Title: Diary of Frodo, son of Drogo
Author:
gracheness aka me (Georgie).
Fandom: Lord of the Rings
Rating: G
Notes: Written for English, roughly 1,570 words. Frodo/ Sam subtext. Reference to The Very Secret Diaries.
Warnings: Half book, half movie. Adheres to canon of neither. Tolkien would be rolling in his grave at this insult to his work. I've probably screwed up the names of places, but I'm paranoid, because of LotR Nazis. Hence this will only be posted on my journal.
Diary of Frodo, son of Drogo.
Day ?
Nearing Mordor... I think. I’m starting to think we’re going around in circles. I lost track of time and days long ago. When I wake I’m never sure if it’s dawn or dusk. That retched Gollum Sméagol found us again, I suspect he has been with us longer then he’s let on. I was sure I saw his decrepit frame on the banks of Anduin after we left Lothlórien. I’m not entirely convinced he’s all bad. He was a hobbit once, and there’s some good left in him. I’m afraid I could end up like him myself; it drives me further to destroy the ring (or ‘precious’ as he refers to it). Sam is highly suspicious of him. He doesn’t know it, but I watch him. I watch how he treats Sméagol. I think he would be rid of him given the chance. But Sméagol still has a part to play.
Sam is still under the impression that Gandalf perished in Moria. I don’t think so, those pesky wizards are near impossible to kill. He’s bound to turn up at the precise moment we least suspect it stupid wizards. I wonder how the rest of the fellowships are going. I heard Boromir blow The Horn of Gondor at Amon Hen, but Sam and I had already departed. I fear we missed something important. I felt something brewing from the moment I looked down from that mountain, Tol Brandir. Boromir truly scared me. I think the Ring possessed him, I can’t see why he’d take such interest in me otherwise. I do hope Merry and Pippin are okay. It’s my fault they were caught up in all this in the first place. I suspect they will have done vast amounts of growing and maturing in a very short time frame. Most hobbits -save Bilbo- never leave The Shire. I’d be responsible if anything happened to them. I haven’t seen either of them in so long- I do hope they’ve retained their endearing humour and innocence. However, I’m sure Pippin’s got himself into some dire situation by his own stupidity in trouble somehow.
We’re running low on the lembas bread. I am getting quite sick of it though. It sticks dryly to the sides of my mouth and I can barely bring myself to swallow it. I wish Sam would make the rabbit stew again, the one with the herbs he made near Ithilien, but this country is so barren and desolate I doubt it could sustain life. Only now, when we are here in this awful place I appreciate Sam’s loyalty and that he didn’t leave me. I was going to leave the Shire alone; and I insisted that I go alone when we left the fellowship back in Amon Hen. Of course, Sam would have none of it, and I am truly glad he was so defiant; I wouldn’t have got far without him. Not to mention he would have drowned if I didn’t save him. This place- wherever we are- is devoid of light. Sam is my shining beacon here and I treasure his friendship.
Day ?
I feel the darkness of this place closing in on me, suffocating me even. The Ring is getting harder to bear. I can feel it growing heavier on my chest, as though physically bringing me down. I was so upset before that Sam had to comfort me. I still don’t know where we are, but Mount Doom is looming closer. I think we could be coming to the end of our journey. We can see impending doom as the thick black cloud over Mordor engulfs us. Even at this distance we can see the black mass and smell the acrid fumes. We can feel them clinging to our clothes.
We’re getting closer to Mordor still. We can hear a distant rhythm. Something is happening; something beyond my comprehension. When I set out I was unaware of just how immense this task is. I wish I hadn’t been stupid and proud enough to take on this responsibility and just left the thing in Rivendell for the elves to deal with. But, I’d have no claim to fame then. Anyway, we can hear a distant thumping. Something is going on. But the vehicle of war is always going on around Mordor I’m suppose. I don’t speak from experience, but nothing surprises me anymore. It wouldn’t surprise me if the men from Harad were going to Mordor’s aid or if the Ringwraiths grew wings. Perhaps I’m getting too jaded from this trip. I know Bilbo never had to deal with the fate of the world when he was off adventuring. He got to salvage dragon’s treasure and see the eagles; how I’d love to see the eagles. Sometimes I think I’m turning into a whining brat despite myself, but I always have the convenient excuse of the Ring to justify my actions.
I hadn’t given it much thought before, but the elves are starting to irritate me (in their absence). They get to retreat to the undying lands whereas I am here, saving the world. And it makes me wonder, if there are so many other proud races, why is the fate of the world left to a lowly hobbit hobbit? Why didn’t Boromir insist and take the Ring by force? I’m sure it’s not a message that hobbits are superior to elves or men, because that’s plain stupid. Maybe hobbits are destined to make history after all.
Sméagol has been so pleasant to Sam lately, yet Sam despises the very thought of him. I can’t see why- perhaps he thinks he will take the Ring. Sam is a suspicious character and sometimes too loyal even. He seems to ignore the fact that Sméagol saved me from the Dead Marshes. That wasn’t something I was too pleased about, what was Sam doing at the time anyway? Hmph, loyal servant my foot. He insists Sméagol (he still calls him Gollum) is trying to murder me, or at the very least, take the Ring. I doubt that I’m such a precious commodity without the ring. I’m neither suspicious nor worried. Sam watches so closely, he’d kill him if he tries anything.
Day ? (Or is it night?)
Sméagol insisted we take the high pass to Mordor- we’re on the stairs of Cirith Ungol. They go on forever upwards; it’s as if they lead right into the sky. I look up but can’t see summit. Regardless of where we are, I am glad to be away from Minas Morgul- I never want to see that horrid place again. I was scared the Nazgûl would be drawn to the Ring and our position would be discovered.
We haven’t had a moment to rest and it’s been too dangerous to have a fire in the last few days so I haven’t written- allow me to recap. We got to the gate of Mordor and discovered that no, we couldn’t just stroll into Mordor. Honestly, who planned this trip anyway? So then, only after this revelation Sméagol mentions a secret way unknown to anyone but him. This seems to involve going through Minas Morgul aka Nazgûl central. It’s when Sméagol does things like that I suspect him of having sinister motives, or at least an agenda of some kind. Anyway, went to Minas Morgul and I was stupidly drawn to it -against my will- and we were almost discovered. We hid and made our way to the steps. Turns out the Ringwraiths did actually grow wings. Fantastic.
It’s good that I’m not afraid of heights, because I can barely see the bottom from where we are now. I can only see the very tips of Minas Morgul in the distance. The place swarms with evil. It’s as if you can see particles of evil floating around in the air. That place won’t leave me for a long time.
Sam’s been annoying me of late. If I didn’t think he could get any more overbearing and protective I was sorely mistaken. He doesn’t even speak to Sméagol- other then to hurl insults at him. Sméagol retreats more and more into himself. I fear Sam may be damaging poor Sméagol. Anyway, stairs of Cirith Ungol -if they can be called stairs- are mossy and cold. The stairs are black, and crumbly and not very stair-like. I’m also most disdainful at the ever-increasing amounts of dirt under my fingernails. I wasn’t previously aware that the hair on my feet could become matted, but apparently I was wrong. My feet would no longer be considered attractive by hobbit standards. How I wish I brought a brush.
I’ve slipped several times, luckily no major injuries, ignoring the fact I fell on my head twice. Sméagol has been very accommodating, but Sam grows even more suspicious and watchful. Sam seems to think that Gollum will steal our food; he’s getting so irrational he can’t see that Sméagol detests the lembas bread.
Several hours later
Sometimes I wonder why all this was necessary. I’m beginning to think I should have just opted to stroll into Mordor after all. Gollum Sméagol seems to have disappeared. Sam and I finally made it to the top of the stairs. We’re about to go into the tunnel Sméagol spoke of (‘Her tunnel’ he refers to it, his poor, tortured mind. I pity him so). I will write later...
Off to do homework...