That eerie view from a ravine. Staring at Isingard. That enemy's lair.
One must venture out of the shire of his comfort and do things that must surpass that that his Bilbo Baggins did.
Being a Frodo and saying yes, even with your heart still saying no. "This ring I must bear I said."
Support came from more than just friends.
I had an Elf, a Dwarf, a wizard, a ranger, a warrior, and best of all, three God given best friends.
We fellowshipped till I realized— trusting is no virtue.
But that wasn't all I learnt. I also learnt that, no matter how much you push away a friend, he will never leave.
The burden was growing by the day. The weight— too strong.
A ghost followed us. A living testimony of failure.
The one called Smeagol possessed by the gollum.
It was destiny that we cross paths. He was a constant reminder that we must never fail. That we must never give in to the temptation.
He crawled on all fours and ate raw games.
Sam never fell for his treachery, but I, told by another to pity him. And I pitied him.
And why would one not?
It's wasn't my place to judge him for who he now is. I showed him love where hate formally resided.
Samwise would scold him now and then.
We got captured by Faramire, the warrior's brother.
He too was tempted to take the ring from us but Sam screamed, "the ring drove you brother mad!"
He apologized like they all do after they realized their temptation.
And he let us go.
Smeagol was beaten and we lost his trust, just when passed a temptation for over fifty years and rebuked the spirit the tormented him.
We climbed up the steps at Minas Morgul, and Smeagol smeared my elvish cloak with the elvish bread we had in our backpack.
Smeagol convinced me, preying on my pity for him. And I sent Sam away. Alone, I went into the tunnels. Smeagol disappears and a vile looking creature appeared from the darkness behind me.
I brought out the gift bestowed to me by the so-called elvish witch.
"This will be a light for you when all other lights go out."
I fought the eight legged beast and made it out of the cave.
Smeagol wrestled me but fell into a Marianna-like pit.
Unbeknownst to me, the big spider stung me from behind and rolled me all up with its thick web.
But Sam discovering Smeagol's treachery had ran to my rescue. Thinking I was dead, he left because some orcs where coming.
Realizing how silly he had been for leaving after hearing the orcs saying I was only paralyzed and not dead, he came charging to their tower.
Now, at last, the eye of Sauron was diverted away from us. We made it into Mount Doom.
But not without the help of Sam.
"I cannot carry this ring for you, but I sure can carry you."
Then came the great temptation. I couldn't throw the ring into the molten fires of Mount Doom.
Smeagol came charging at me and bit off my finger. We wrestle some more and he fell into flames of Mount Doom together with the ring.
But not without the fake drama of Hollywood.
"Take my hand Frodo. Don't you let go."
Haba, over molten magma. Fresh one oh. E never even dey cool, nai person dey e never get first degree burn?
They made it, eventually.
There were times he said it was impossible.
This is life at its worst.
And they all lived happily ever after in elvish heaven except for Sam who is going to star in the third book.
Don't ask me the title.
Am I the one writing it?
Maybe; maybe not.
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