# ~ # Down the Dungeon at Barad-dur # ~ #

The chills and warmth that formerly tormented him slipped Frodo’s mind. The torture-weakened eyes went exceptionally wide as they recognized the illuminated figure above him. It was nothing like the form that had put him under horrific trials. It was so unlike the fog that had come and gone, the fog that had brandished and withdrew instruments of torture. It did not bring fear with its presence. It was not a being that would be invisible at one moment, and the most appalling creature the next.

Frodo blinked. It had to be him. This could not be mistaken as the ruler of this cursed land. It could not be Sauron.

Frodo stared in amazement. It felt like he had never seen this person for a lifetime, the one who looked so familiar in his long, grey hair; kind, smiling eyes; and grey robe. It was this light engulfing his body that Frodo had never seen before.

But how could it be? Frodo knew he had yet to be rescued from Mordor. So how could Gandalf be present here, standing above his shuddering body and releasing him from his restraints?

“Gandalf?” called the hobbit again, trying his luck. Perhaps this was really Gandalf. But perhaps this was just some kind of a cruel tactic for Sauron to try on him. The thought sent another shiver wracking his half-naked body. What if that was true? What if Sauron had grown bored of playing with him physically and decided to play with his mind instead? Frodo realized the Dark Lord would do anything to get his Ring back. Frodo was up to a sitting position and scrambling backward when a soothing voice entered his mind.

“No. Do not run away, Frodo Baggins. I am really him. I am Gandalf.”

It might sound soft and kind but the fact that the figure talked to him through his mind unnerved Frodo. This was how the fog had been talking to him! Frodo cracked down and he closed his eyes, trying to do the same with his mind. His lips quavered as he attempted to shush the creature away. He would not dare to talk back, imagining the ill-treatment he would receive in return.

“Frodo, do not fear. Son of Drogo and Primula, open your eyes!”

Sauron could not have known his parents’ names, thought Frodo gingerly, and his eyes opened slowly. He was frozen in place, a hand flailing up at first intending to send Gandalf away, but now it reached out to touch the wizard. Trembling, the hand reached and reached, and Gandalf welcomed it. He grasped the the small, skinny hand in his strong one. Frodo gaped. He tried to pull his hand back but he could not. The wizard would not allow it.

Frodo was drowning in confusion. Gandalf would never be able to feel him, not in the state he was in. Frodo twisted his hand as much as his could.

“Let go! You’re not Gandalf! You’ll never be able to feel me, never!”

“Ssh! Don’t make a sound. Use your mind if you want to speak.” Gandalf was afraid Sauron would hear Frodo as he had shouted just now.

Frodo flinched. There were so many things he failed to comprehend.

Gandalf lowered himself.

“I’m not what I am although I do kneel down before you. I’m wearing the Ring, Frodo. That’s why I can come to this place.”

Frodo’s eyes opened even wider. Concern filled them. Sauron could come any time! He must have felt Gandalf’s presence.

The wizard tipped Frodo’s chin.

“No need to worry, little friend. Elrond helps me with his elven ring. The Ring of Air put me under its protection.”

The Ring of Air? Bilbo must have forgotten to tell him story about that one. What an incredible piece of jewelry it must be. But… would that mean he could go home soon? Frodo stared at the wizard pleadingly. His big eyes turned glassy.

“Gandalf, I want to go home.”

Gandalf’s heart broke at the plea. Bringing Frodo back to his body – perhaps not his home – was what he wanted to do more than anything. He could only pray everything would go as planned.

“Soon, my boy,” Gandalf went numb for a moment, hands clutching at Frodo’s shoulders. “Soon.”

Frodo took one of Gandalf’s hands and hugged it to his chest. The dam broke.. He wept and wept. He wanted to tell Gandalf anything, everything that had happened to him. All the pains and the sufferings Sauron had delivered upon him, all the torments he had to bear, and all his feelings – alone, despaired, degraded. Frodo could not stand all of them anymore.

He had been ready to die. He could not see a way out of this place. He did not dare to hope to see his friends again. Sam. Merry. Pippin. They were all mere shadows from a distant memory. Death had been his only expectation – and even that was denied by Sauron.

When he had been left alone in the dark, Frodo knew if he was not to die, he would surrender his sanity. He would not want to defy the Dark Lord anymore. Sauron could do anything to him but he would not get what he wanted from this Frodo - the Frodo that was trapped in this forsaken realm. Frodo had been ready to give up the last thing he had left – his mind.

But now hope had arisen yet again as did his fear. What if Gandalf failed to get him out? Frodo’s mind went to Sauron and he went limp as despair and trepidation returned full force.

Gandalf took pity at the feeble hobbit. He lowered Frodo down to the ground, a wordless gaze following him.

“I must go now, Frodo. I never want to leave you. Not at all. But I will return with your half, and we are all going home together.”

There was no response from the spirit Frodo. Not even a question as to why Gandalf did not come with the corporeal Frodo now. He could already picture the answer. He did not beg Gandalf to stay, though he could not imagine having to be alone in this place again.

Frodo merely stared. And closed his eyes. And drew his breath. Deeply.

TBC