Saturday, March 29, 2014

MMC, Frodo and Sam version

OK, as soon as I saw the writing prompt for this week, I immediately though, "Frodo and the Ring!"  
Here is the prompt: The one thing that was destroying me was the very thing I couldn't seem to let go of. Seriously, that just screams, "Lord of the Rings!", right? I already wrote my entry for this week, so this one is just for fun. I'm going to make a new ending for Lord of the Rings and every one of you will probably hate it, just so you know. ;)

The one thing that was destroying me was the very thing I couldn't seem to let go of. Looking into the boiling fire below me, I felt weary and yet triumphant, like someone who had to do spring cleaning in their whole hobbit-hole in a day. It was hard work, but we did it. It's over now.
As I slid the chain which held the Ring over my neck, I looked at it wistfully. It was so beautiful. It seemed like such a waste to destroy it. 
"Throw it in, Frodo! Destroy it!" I heard Sam cry distantly. Trying to force myself to throw it in was no use. Why should I? It was mine; it was my own; my Precious.
I turned back to him with firm resolve in my gaze. "No,"
Sliding it over my finger, I felt the tiny struggle that was going on in my heart die. It was over. It was mine.
The noises that seeped into my mind mingled together: Sam's cry of grief; the raging lava underneath; the small avalanche of crumbling rocks that fell down, down, down. Then I heard another noise: a shriek of rage. Gollum came barreling into me and he was going so fast, he couldn't stop. Giving one last scream of fury, he fell into the fire of Mt. Doom.
But he had left his mark; when he ran into me, it knocked me off balance and I started to fall.
The Ring was thrown from my finger and that was the last I saw of it. Sam must've seen me, for he came running to the edge, trying desperately to reach me. It was too late.
The last thing I saw was Sam's hand stretched out, trying to reach me. I fell and darkness cut off my vision.

(Here it switches to narrative instead of first person)

Frodo woke up to find himself in an extremely soft bed in a tiny bedroom. He blinked his eyes several times and pinched himself to see if it was a dream. Well... nothing changed after the hard pinch, so he assumed that it was real. But how on earth...
"Frodo Baggins!" said a very noble and yet familiar voice.
"Gandafl? Gandalf!" Frodo cried in disbelieving happiness. He started to prop himself up when he realized something was missing... something was not right. Looking with shock and pain at where his fingers and hand should have been, Frodo felt dazed.
"Where is my arm, Gandalf?" he asked soberly.
A shadow passed over the old wizard's face. "Frodo, my dear hobbit," he began. "When you fell, you landed on a little island in the very middle of Mt. Doom. Sam thought you might be dead, but did that stop him? No! He climbed down and when he was almost close enough to touch you, a small part of the mountain caved in and a boulder fell on you." He sighed and looked off into the distance before continuing. "You're very, very lucky to be alive, you know. Sam is a very brave person and you were very fortunate to have him as a faithful companion."

I don't really have much else to put in there. :P  OK, you all hate me now, don't you? OK, if you don't hate me, please comment and tell me so! :D

2 comments:

  1. I don't hate you but I do prefer the original ending. :-)

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    Replies
    1. Me too, but I had to write SOMETHING different. :)
      Yay! I'm glad you don't hate me. ;D

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