This chapter is entirely redone (FINALLY!), with many book quotes added, and the entire first part rewritten! I have also changed the chapter title…hope you like it! (I've been listening to the 30 second clips of the ROTK soundtrack too much!)
I will be going through every chapter like this, and changing errors that people have so kindly pointed out, and making the whole thing much better (I hope…). Since many things will be change, I recommend reading through each chapter again when it is edited. Chapters 7 and 8 have been deleted because I was not happy with them at all.
Thanks to all the people who reviewed over the past, few months to get me back on track with this!
Special thanks to Arwen Baggins who reviewed every chapter over again, and put a recommendation in her story "Frodo's Bane and Pippin's Stomach"! THANKS AGAIN! And thanks also for reading through this chapter.
Thanks also to Ariel, who beta-read the old version.
*****
"There is nothing we can do for Frodo. The Quest will claim his life."
Mordor, March 25, 3019
"I am glad you here with me. Here at the end of all things, Sam," said Frodo, his voice wavering
slightly because of exhaustion and the smoke.
Behind them mountains crumbled, towers fell, and many things were
ending. It seemed that they would end
here also, buried among the ash. His
strength was failing him, and though the burden of the Ring was
removed, it was not enough.
"Yes
I am with you, Master, and you're
with me. And the journey's finished,"
replied Sam. "But after coming all that way I don't want to
give up yet, It's not like me somehow, if you
understand." He could and would not give
up. He had left much in the Shire he
longed for, to see his gaffer's face as he told his tale, and Rosie.
And the Shire itself, he longed to see it
again, and to see if what he saw in Galadriel's mirror was true. His master also, though he was tired and worn, his
body emaciated from the days of going miles on just a bit of lembas he was
himself, the evil shadow of the Ring was removed from
his eyes.
"Maybe not, Sam, but its like things are in the
world. Hopes Fail. An end comes.
We have only a little time to wait now.
We are lost in ruin and downfall, there is no escape." There was no escape, he could feel death
coming quickly, approaching them from all sides. The fire, smoke, and stench from the Black Land choked his lungs, robbing him of the
will to move.
"Well, Master, we could at least
get a little further from this danger place here, this Crack of Doom, if that's
the name," said Sam. "Now couldn't we? Come, Mr. Frodo, lets go down the path at any rate."
"Very
well, Sam, if you wish to go I'll come," said
Frodo. Seeing that his master was not
capable of standing on his own, Sam gently grabbed Frodo's hand, his good hand, and helped him on his
feet.
Slowly they started down the steep
slope, Sam leading the way, and Frodo stumbling behind, his head bent staring
at the rock and ash below, but still he tripped, and stumbled, falling almost
to his knees a few times. Sam looked ahead, trying to find a safe
way through the maze of burning ash and lava, though it was getting very hard
to find. For a moment
he glanced up on the horizon, out East towards Barad-dur. Where only a few hours ago
there stood a great dark fortress; the display of Sauron's power, there stood a
huge pile of broken rock. Sam gasped in awe of what his master had
accomplished, and Frodo took some notice, only lifting his head slightly and
nodding weakly.
At last
no path could be found, and they collapsed upon the black rock, exhausted to
wait for their wait for their end.
"What a tale we have been in Mr. Frodo, haven't we?" said Sam, still amazed at the destruction of
Barad-dur. "I wish I could hear it
told. Do you think they'll
say Now comes the story of Nine-fingered
Frodo and the Ring of Doom. And then they'll hush like we did, when in Rivendell they
told us the tale of Beren One-Hand and the Great Jewel. I wish I could hear it! And I wonder how it will go on after our
part."
"But I shall never live to hear
it," said Frodo, taking the last sip from his water bottle, and spilling most
of it on himself.
"It may not be the end of
things just yet, Mr. Frodo," said Sam, holding his master's maimed hand.
"It shall be the end of me, at
least," said Frodo, his eyes closed "I'm tired, Sam, and this Quest has hurt me more than
you can know." He paused for a moment, to catch his
breath, pain seared through his shoulder and side, and with every breath, his
dry throat stung. "I cannot go on any
further. Even if there were a way out,
what would there be to live for?"
"Mr. Frodo!
But we're heroes, Mr. Frodo, you're a hero! Heroes don't just
give up. And anyway,
don't you want to see everyone again, Strider, and Merry and Pippin, don't you
want to see what happened to them? And
the Shire, and Bag End, and Bilbo and the book he was going to write about our
journey?"
"I am no
hero, Sam," Frodo began, "I failed the quest, if
it were not for Gollum the world would have a new Dark Lord. I gave in to the Ring, and claimed it as my
own. I failed Strider, and betrayed him
and the others who entrusted me with the Ring, and you, I hurt you. What is left in this world for me but pain and darkness?
My purpose has been fulfilled, the world was saved, but not for me."
"Mr. Frodo, please hang on, for me?" pleaded Sam, but Frodo shook his head weakly. "You can't just leave me here Mr. Frodo!"
Frodo's breath caught in his throat.
"Elbereth, save him!"
"Forgive me, Sam," said Frodo, opening his eyes one
last time to gaze at the world, as if asking what more it had to offer. And with that he was
gone.
"NO, MR. FRODO!" Sam screamed, and pulled Frodo into his
arms. He felt for his chest moving with
labored breaths, or any pulse at the neck or wrist, but there was none; he was
dead. Frodo Baggins, savior of Middle-Earth was dead.
Sobs escaped Sam's mouth, but no tears came, for there
were none to shed, he always gave the water to Frodo. "And what good has it done, Samwise Gamgee,"
he said to himself, "Now that he's dead, and you're stuck on this filthy
mountain alone. Gandalf told you to not
lose him, and look what you've done."
Gently he laid Frodo back onto the
ash-covered ground. Frodo's eyes still
lay open and glazed, staring out at the world around him, for an answer that didn't come. Slowly
and gently, Sam closed them, the last time he would
look into those eyes, which once had seen joy, but they would no more. Sam folded Frodo's arms across his chest, and then kissed his
forehead, still holding Frodo's maimed hand.
"Your poor hand, Mr. Frodo," said Sam, "But I guess it doesn't matter
anymore, I guess nothing like that matters anymore." He wrapped the elven cloak tighter around
Frodo's shoulders, and then lie down on the ground
next to him.
"And now all I have to do is await
the same fate that took you. I'm coming,
Mr. Frodo."
***
Two eagles dove down into the
destruction surrounding Mount Doom, they had spotted two forlorn shapes
lying amid the ashes. Lower they
circled, until at last they were able to grasp the shapes, the bodies of two
hobbits.
Gandalf clung to the back of the
larger eagle, Gwaihir, worries cluttering his head as they dove. They had flown very fast to the slopes of Mount Doom, faster than any servant of the enemy
could. But had
they come soon enough, or had the hobbits fallen in the Fire, or in despair
after the destruction?
Some of his fears were refuted when the eagles picked up two hobbits in their
claws. "How do they fare?" he asked the
eagles.
"They are both cold, and very
thin, and put under some deep sleep."
"That is what I feared," Gandalf
replied, "Though at least they are both alive."
"They are not, or at least this
one is not," Gwaihir said, and Gandalf noticed that he bore Frodo. "There is no breath from him, and no beating
of the heart."
"Let me see him!" Gandalf
commanded, and Gwaihir obeyed.
As he looked at Frodo, he realized
Gwaihir was right; his greatest fear had come true. Frodo's body was limp, his face was pale, and
his hands were cold. There was no breath
or beating of his heart.
"Frodo, lasto beth lammen, tolo dan nan
galad(1),"Gandalf spoke, grasping Frodo's face,
trying to wake him, he wished that Frodo had fallen into some dark sleep even
though in his heart he know it was not true. Frodo Baggins was dead, and there
was nothing Gandalf could do. Even though he had the power to heal
him, he was forbidden to use it.
Tears poured down the Istari's
wrinkled face as he held the lifeless hobbit in his arms. For many years,
they had been friends, and now he was lost. Gandalf had known this could
have happened when he had sent Frodo on the Quest, he had even argued with
Elrond not to send him, but fate chose Frodo, and he had volunteered to carry
the Ring himself.
Gandalf's eyes trailed down to the
chain around Frodo's neck, now empty. The Quest had
been completed, but the hero lost. From the corner of his eye, he
spotted the hobbit's maimed hand, bleeding and deformed; it had cost him pain
to destroy the Ring, but the greatest pain had come afterwards, and would come
to those who had known him.
The eagles dove onto the lands of Ithilien, which were mostly deserted except for a few tents left by the Host of the West, and healers waiting for the survivors of the battle. Gandalf landed and stepped off Gwaihir's back. Bearing Frodo and Sam, he rushed to the tents to find them a place of rest. Sam was still seriously ill and hurt by the Ring, but when he heard of his master's death, he would despair. He laid Sam inside a tent in the middle of a peaceful grove, ordering a healer to watch over Sam, and tell when he had awakened. It felt relieving to leave Sam under another's care, but he still held the greater burden.
Frodo's body was frail and thin, but it felt to Gandalf as if he bore the Ring along with the small hobbit. Still he was tempted to use his power, and heal Frodo, though he revoked it in his mind with something he had once said to Frodo, "Many that live deserve death. And some that die deserve life. Can you give it to them?" He sighed, set Frodo's body down in an empty tent, and then rushed out into the nearby lands. He had to think how to break the news to Sam, but his own grief clouded his mind.
****
(1) Listen to the words of my tongue, come back to the light.
*****
Hope
you liked the first, re-edited chapter!
I was also thinking of ending this chapter at the first part, for more
suspense and angst, and putting Gandalf's part with the next chapter or in its
own. Please review and tell me what you
think (of the chapter and my thought)!
I don't
know when the next chapter will be edited, my time is still rather scare, but I
hope you will stick with me!