1. A Split Second
Author's Note: This was inspired from the scene in the "Fellowship of the Ring" movie. I thought this was one of the most intense scenes in the movie, and though it was not in the book, Sean Bean's performance was so inspiring I just had to write this!
Thank You: A HUGE thank-you to Anna (Ascacoirewen) for beta-reading and helping me improve this fanfic!
There it lay, partially obscured by the snow, glimmering brilliantly under the sun. At the sight of such splendor, my heart starts pounding so heavily I can no longer hear anything else. I look around, trying to breathe evenly. Do they notice? Can they hear my heart, hammering away fitfully at my chest? I feel a trace of panic as I struggle to keep my thoughts under control. Do not be foolish! There is nothing to fear, and you have done nothing wrong, I chide myself. I raise my head and cast a quick glance at my surroundings.
Frodo's movements catch my eye immediately. He is searching frantically for the ring.
"Frodo," I whisper inaudibly. A pause. I take in a deep breath and prepare to speak louder.
"The ring is here, Frodo," I want to say. Stubbornly, the words refuse to leave my mouth. I stagger closer towards the ring, and bitter thoughts fill my head. I stop in mid-stride. But why... Why should I let Frodo have it? Why should Frodo, a hobbit, be the Ringbearer? The ring, that beautiful ring: such a thing of magnificence, he cannot possibly comprehend its power! Oh, how it pains me to see it so... wasted. Is that to be its fate? To be carried by a mere halfling and then destroyed? Something this precious - destroyed?! My heart aches at the very thought.
Never to be used again? They should let me... I almost let out a strangled cry of frustration, but I catch myself just in time. I exhale loudly. Did they hear me? I scold myself softly for losing control like this. I must not let these poisonous thoughts run rampant. It has already been decided that Frodo should be the Ringbearer, and that the Ring should be destroyed.
"The ring is here, Frodo..." I move my lips slightly, but no sound escapes. I hold out my arm to point to the ring, but instead I snatch it violently from the snow. My breath quickens as I clutch the chain tightly in my hand, and slowly, I hold the Ring up. Immediately, I start to shake.
I let out a sigh: the cold should not bother me. Men of Gondor simply do not succumb so easily to the whims of weather! I steel myself, and prepare to hand the ring back to Frodo. Yes, my next step should be quite simple. I shall take the ring to him. After all, it would not do to have the poor hobbit fall in the snow again. I begin to walk in his direction, but as I try to lift my feet, something roots me to my place.
A distant voice calls to me and my eyes are drawn to the Ring once more. I am no longer on Caradhras, but in Mordor, wielding the Ring against Sauron. I can feel its power surging through my veins.
Sauron shall be no more and the power will be mine!
I look up from my trance. With visions of Mordor and Sauron's defeat still vivid in my mind, I stare at the dark-haired man through a haze. I do not recognize him, and it is not until moments later that my memory returns to me.
"It is a strange fate that we should suffer so much fear and doubt over so small a thing… such a little thing," I murmur quietly. My hand grips the Ring tighter. Such a little thing of such tremendous power!
"Boromir! Give the ring to Frodo."
Aragorn. I sense a tightness in his voice. He is afraid of me. He is afraid of what I am capable of doing with the ring. He is afraid that I will accomplish what he, the heir of Isildur, could not! Yes, I understand everything now. His unwavering support for Frodo, his pestering insistence that the ring be destroyed - he merely wishes to have the glory all to himself! It is so simple; how could I have missed this before?
As I hesitate, I notice Aragorn reach for the hilt of his sword. But he wouldn't...
I swallow hard. As my surroundings crystallize, I see that everyone has been watching me. Fear lurks behind their eyes, and they seem to be anticipating something. The realization hit me hard: they think that I will betray them. They think that this will end in violence. Ha! The fools think that I would bring trouble to them? No. It is Aragorn they should fear and distrust, not I. Oh, how I wish I could make them see! Aragorn is leading them to their doom, but I can save them! If only they'd let me... I look back at the ring. I can slip it on now...Who's to stop me?
Suddenly, a voice inside me cries out and I feel a searing pain explode within my head. I barely manage to keep my composure. I blink and it is gone; gone as quickly as it had come. My head no longer feels clouded. I must bide my time. Almost shaking, I hand the ring to Frodo.
"As you wish. I care not." I am surprised that my voice does not quiver. Frodo quickly grabs the ring away from me, as if he were keeping the ring away from Sauron. I chuckle at the silly notion and ruffle Frodo's hair. I catch a glimpse of Aragorn moving his hand away from his sword as I turn to resume climbing.
As if I were Sauron.
I begin to chuckle again, but visions of Mordor invade my sight once more. The feeling of exhiliration I felt as I wielded the ring rushes through my head. I had defeated Sauron. I had true power. I was...
As if I were Sauron... But I was...
My throat tightens and the weight in my heart grows ever heavier. I turn my face towards the pelting snow, relishing the harsh icy sting. Come on, Caradhras, is this all you have?! The sound of my spiteful laughter is quickly carried away by the howling winds. I look down again, feeling the moment of humour fade away.
Caradhras, Caradhras - why is it, that at this moment, I fear thee less than I fear myself?
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.