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Dreamflower's Dribs and Drabs  by Dreamflower

 In Darkness Buried Deep

Could it really be over?

Frodo had not thought it would end this way. He had not expected to survive his mission. It had been long since he thought he might live, perhaps even in Rivendell he had begun to know his life was forfeit to the Ring.

But this? Captivity! The Ring gone? Gone to the Enemy! All was despair: no hope for anyone else, much less himself.

It was torment realising the hated trinket no longer hung around his neck. For so long, his life had been nothing except the journey and the Ring. How hard it had become to keep it quiet! He should feel relieved it was no longer his burden, but the sense of failure ran deep. All was lost! His cousins, the Fellowship, the Shire, Sam…

Oh, Sam! The last thing he heard before he had lost all awareness was Sam weeping. Undoubtedly he was dead or being tormented elsewhere in this dreadful place.

But what was that sound? Sam’s voice singing? No, he must have gone mad to imagine Sam singing. “Oh, Sam!” He had not meant to cry aloud.

“Ho la! You up there, you dunghill rat! Stop your squeaking...”

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