It's Kharl's Fault!

by Terasa

The final war has begun and it's up to our heroes to save the day, but will Andi manage to destroy the Ring or will it destroy her first? Ashley quickly discovers she has no head for politics when she arrives in Gondor, and Kharl will have to fight harder than ever to ensure those he cares about live to tell the tale of the One Ring. Secretly-A-Fangirl helped Haldir/OC Aragorn/OC

7. Dark Thoughts

ANDREA

I struggle to climb the stairs, nausea making me shaky and it doesn't help that the further up we go the more deteriorated the stairs become. Part of the step under my feet crumbles, leaving me dangling in midair by my fingers. "Careful, Master," Sméagol warns," very far to fall, very dangerous on the stairs." No shit, Sherlock. Sméagol peers down at me over the ledge he was perched on. As I try to grab onto the ledge, the Ring slips out and dangles in plain sight for all to see. Sméagol backs up quickly as though he had been struck, blue eyes widening to the size of dinner plates.

"Andrea," Sam shouts with his little sword drawn. The sudden shout makes me jump and lose the footing I had just managed to get. "Get back, you! Don't touch her!" Sméagol grabs my arm in a bruising hold, pulling me up with surprising strength and dropping me on my stomach.

"Why does he hate poor Sméagol," Sméagol asks in a hurt tone. "What has Sméagol ever done to him, Master? Master carries a heavy burden…. Sméagol knows…. Heavy, heavy burden. Fat one cannot know. Sméagol looks after Master." Sméagol comes closer to me to whisper in my ear. "He wants it. He needs it! Sméagol sees it in his eyes. Very soon, he will ask you for it—you will see…. The fat one will take it from you."

My eyes move from the malnourished Hobbit to Sam, distrust surging through me as I hold tightly to the Ring. Don't trust anyone, a small voice whispers. They will take it from you. Sam will take it from you the second he gets the chance. He wants it for himself, he wants the power the Ring would give him. Sam struggles up the stairs, face covered in dirt and blood and grime—the innocence slowly fading away from his hazel eyes.

"Andi," he grunts, holding up a hand for help. Slowly, I reach out and take it, pulling him up onto the ledge after a second's debate on whether I should just let him fall and be done with it. "Thank you." Nodding, I look down at the hard, uneven ground, breathing becoming more difficult. "Maybe we should rest for a few hours, give you a chance to catch your breath."

"Yes," I nod, speaking distractedly as dark thoughts begin to take over. "Yes, resting would be nice…. We should all rest to gather our strength and courage." Kill him while he sleeps, it would be easy. You could use one of his pots or smother him with his cloak. I shake the thoughts away, shivering in the cold. It would only get worse, these thoughts come more and more frequently these days and I can't stop them or slow them down as I used to. One of these days I may actually act on them and do something I could never redeem myself of, like murdering Sam. I can't do this for much longer.

This burden is too much for someone to bear on their own like I am.