A/N—J.R.R. Tolkien owns this. I don't.
Summary: Something in the East awakens...
Many thanks to Gwedhiel0117, who reviewed the introduction! They pointed out that I hadn't been very clear on the timeline for this piece-thank you Gwedhiel!-and I'd like to amend that now. This takes place in the Fourth Age, 20 years after The War of the Ring. I'm afraid that's the best I can offer. I don't really know the dates that well. Thanks again Gwedhiel! This chapter's for you!
The Fourth Age—20 years after the Fall of Sauron and the Return of the King...
"NO!"
Frodo started from his bed, sitting bolt upright, fingers clutching at the bed sheets. His shoulder throbbed, and black spots pulsed over his vision. He could still hear the harsh words, whispering and hissing in the back of his brain, the volume rising with every repeated remembrance of a glowing eye.
Ash nazg...ash nazg...ash nazg...
The stone floor was cold beneath his feet. He winced, the sharp stones of Gorgoroth rising in his mind, sticking into his skin, drawing blood that pooled—he looked down, searching for the seeping liquid, but there was none. He took a deep breath that rattled in his chest, catching like a sob, and stepped towards the hearth to rekindle the fire that had gone out.
It oughtn't to have, something in him whispered.
The curtains to the open window hung limply over the pane, and in a flash of burning horror, Frodo saw the fingers of the Witch King, reaching towards him...curling around the sword...
Ash nazg...ash nazg...
The whisper continued like a drumbeat, calling with all the horrific power that the Ring had possessed. Frodo glanced out of the window, searching for the moon, but it was hidden behind thick clouds—
Ash nazg...ash nazg...
The coals certainly shouldn't have been dark. The metal tongs were cold, and Frodo's shoulder screamed as the metal morphed into a sword that buried itself in his shoulder, sending numbing chill down his arm and side, into his fingers, into his heart...
Ash nazg, ash nazg...
He shifted the coals, and something shimmered, glowing of its own accord in the dark room.
Ash nazg durbatuluk...
As simple, as lovely as if it had never left the mantelpiece.
Ash nazg gimbatul...
His fingers shook as he grabbed the flint and struck it, tossing the flaming piece of fabric onto the coals.
Ash nazg thrakatuluk...
Waiting...waiting...his heart pounded; his throat blocked; he pushed back the scream—
Agh burzum-ishi krimpatul...
—letters raced along the golden surface, shaping in loops and curls, forming into words—
Frodo thrust his hand into the fire, ignoring the pain, and scooped the trinket from its place in the flames.
"Gandalf!"
The gold sang as the Ring dropped from Frodo's fingers onto the table, where the flickering light of the candle made the ever fading words glow intensely.
"Look."
His voice seemed almost to run around the surface of the golden oval, slipping back out into the room, changing the deadened monosyllable into a whispering river—look...look...look...look...—that hung on the air.
Gandalf bent over the table, and Frodo saw his eyebrows lower. The wizard's eyes clouded, and he looked up briefly at Frodo, their eyes meeting, and Frodo winced as he saw, for an instant, the Eye, ever searching, pinning him in the form of Gandalf's gaze.
"Sauron was destroyed," Frodo said, and it wasn't like the last time, wasn't confident, wasn't incredulous. It was soft, confused, frightened—
The wind was gone. He couldn't breathe...
Ash nazg...ash nazg...
The fire wouldn't stay, the candle kept failing, kept casting them into darkness...
Ash nazg...ash nazg...
Gandalf picked up the Ring, the first time he'd ever done it, and he changed—tall—burning—overpowering—cold sword in his finger, laced with fire that spurted from the ring upon his finger—
"Frodo."
He blinked, pushing the image away, his lips moving in silent words, silent whispers that he didn't understand.
"Frodo. Listen to me."
He nodded, and he could feel the weight of the Ring on its chain, digging into his neck, rubbing away the skin...
"This is the One Ring."
Ash nazg durbatuluk...
"You have seen the words. Have you not?"
He nodded again. His limbs were shaking...he couldn't feel his left arm...
Ash nazg gimbatul...
"I fear that things we never dreamed of are about to happen: the One has resurfaced—"
Ash nazg thrakatuluk...
"Sauron has returned."
Agh burzum-ishi krimpatul...krimpatul...krimpatul...krimpatul...
A scream split the air and the world pulsed with light.