Gleina na Agar: LOTR story (Reader)

The Crack of Doom

 "____?" Frodo asked again, finding it hard to believe you were in front of him.

You ran your fingers through his thick head of hair, "Hey, Frodo... I'm here."

He began to panic, "The Enemy—the—the Eye!" He grappled at your sleeve, taking in harsh breaths, "You're not safe here, the Eye!"

Sam gripped his arm, "It's gone, Mr. Frodo! The light's passed on, away towards the north. Somethin's drawn it's gaze!"

At Sam's reassurance, Frodo calmed down enough to process your appearance, "Wha—how? How are you here?"

"I took the stairs." You smiled as you helped him sit up.

"But... Why? Why did you come?" His voice cracked.

"I may have found a way to stay alive, but I had to catch you before you threw the ring in," You looked at the two of their astonished faces, "If I can drop my blood into the fire before you destroy the ring, I may be able to escape Sauron's grasp."

Frodo nodded, understanding before he tried to push his way to his feet, "We—we have to get to Mount Doom!" He stumbled upright, falling back to his knees.

"Sam, take his arm," You instructed, heaving Frodo to his feet, "You can lean into me and we'll do this together."

It took so much more energy to climb the mountain side, even more so than the stairs of Cirith Ungol. At least with the stairs you were able to gage your progress, Mount Doom felt like it escalated forever. The climb was a constant steep slope of soft dirt and ash. You had to dig your feet into the earth to stay upright, using your staff to keep you from collapsing. Jets of hot steam burst out of the rock around you, giving off suffocating sulfuric odors.

You were hardly recognizable under the layers of grime and sticky ash mixing with your sweat. Sharp rocks dug into your boots, rubbing your blisters, making the climb that much more unbearable. Breathing itself was a challenge. As you got closer to the top of the mountain, ash and hot wind flew into your lungs with each breath. You glanced back every now and then to make sure the hobbits were still with you, staggering and swaying under the heat.

The nest time you looked back, Frodo had collapsed, and so had Sam to rest beside him. You skidded back along the slope to let your knees buckle beneath you beside Frodo, needing whatever break was necessary. You pulled yourself up to caress him, the hot wind of the mountain blowing your hair in your face.

Sam sighed as he sat beside you, "Do you remember the Shire, Frodo? It'll be spring soon, and the orchards'll be in blossom and the birds'll be nestin' in the hazel thicket... And they'll be sowing the summer barley in the lower fields, and eating the first of the strawberries and cream. Do you remember the taste of strawberries?"

Each of you were shedding tears at the memories he spoke of. You may not have lived your entire life in the shire, but you had shared in those memories when you used to live with Frodo and waited for Gandalf to return.

Frodo wheezed, closing his reddened eyes, "No Sam. I can't recall the taste of food, nor the sound of water or the touch of grass... I'm naked in the dark. There's—there's nothing, no veil between me and the wheel of fire," he began to panic, "I can see him with my waking eyes!"

His words made you feel for him. Made you want to get rid of whatever was haunting him. Made you hate Sauron even more!

Sam sneered, clearly feeling the same way as you did, "Then let us be rid of it once and for all! Come on Mr Frodo, I can't carry it for you, but I can carry you! Come on!" He took Frodo from you and threw him over his shoulder.