First Gandalf, and the chasm that opened up all the pain and loss, deep and neverending as the one that he fell within:

Nooo...!

Then Galadriel with her eyes of cold fire and another yawning gulf behind them, this one full of righteous anger and temptation:

You bring great evil here, Ringbearer...

Then the Truth, reflected in the Mirror with its rapacious abyss of dread and knowledge:

One by one it will take them all...

And the ultimate horror when you sat beside me, and tried to get me to eat, or sleep, or just lie down and rest safe in your arms...

You can't help me, Sam. Not this time.

... which spawned the realization that I will be riven of everything.

Everything.

And now, I sit vigil in the dark. The only one still awake is Legolasr12;of courser12;who gave me a grave look of silent understanding then left our campsite to patrol the woods with silent, untiring strides. Curled up tightly on a root burl with the Anduin lapping near my feet, I watch you sleep. We are only a day's cast from Lothlorien; you, like the others, are still satiated with its peace and beauty, while I?r12;I cannot sleep. I am hung with violation, drunk on too much time, snared by destiny, emptied of everything held dear...

Save the one thing I am forced to hold close. It whispers upon my breast and my fingers are snarled in its chain, shaking. I lower my forehead to my knees, raised clenched fists to my face, feel the Ring burn my palms and cheek and hold to it as if it is all I have left.

For soon it will be all I have left, and this certainty terrifies me beyond belief.

What will transpire when there is no longer anything but the barren wasteland that beckons, within and without? What if I by some miracle do get there, to Mordor, and there is nothing left? Nothing left of me? And nothing within that void except It? What will happen when the only thing to satiate this starkness is the Ring, and its song? When there is nothing to deflect its power, and nothing that I can hold to within my own barrened soul to stave that rising?

I just... I just never thought I would have to fight it alone.

Once alone was easy. I'd gotten quite used to being alone. My entire life, one way or another, has been well-accustomed to leave-taking: My parents. Brandy Hall. Bilbo. Bag End and the Shire. Gandalf. Soon nowr12;all too soonr12;my cousins, and my companions, and...

And you.

You can't help me, Sam... not this time...

What will happen when you're not there?

What would happen if you were...?

For not all your care, not all your efforts, not all your love can take it from me. Not all your caresses can drive away its touch, not all your whispers can silence it, not in the end. How much longer before it takes my mind and you lie with a stranger in the night? Before you turn from me, like I saw in the Mirror?

No. No. Better that I leave you now, not understanding why I must, than comprehension come to you one night when I am no longer myself and turn on you unwitting.

You can't help me... Sam, I'm so scared... scared to stay with you. Scared to leave you.

And scarcely knowing what I'm doing I rise, walk over to you slowly, kneel beside you as if enthralled. For you are the only constant, the only succor I have ever known, and watching you is not enough. I have to touch you; to be reassured, if only for a while, that I still can. My hands loose the Ring and lay to your breast, feeling your breath and heartbeat fill it and tingle against my palms in welcome, familiar rhythm. One hand rises to your cheek, fingers tracing there down-soft, hopeful that I won't disturb you.

Immediately you wakenr12;I should have known, you know my touch as well as I know yoursr12;and you look into my face. I don't know what is there and what is not, but you must see something rather desperate, for the sleep is driven from your eyes and you immediately reach out, take me, pull me close. And when I'm helpless in my hesitation, unyielding against you, your broad hands run along my back, trying to soften me into your embrace.

But the Ring whispers in my mind and it will have me in the end; it will take me where you cannot go, and I hate it, hate it for doing this to me, to us...

You can't help me...

The river's rush fades to nothingness and the silence is deafening between us; I find myself fighting you in sudden, unquenchable terror, my fists clenching against your breastbone, a muted growl uttering itself within my chest. I should not have come to you here in the half-darkness... the others might hear us and I am supposed to be keeping watch... I should not have started any of this... should never agreed to hold this enemy so close, in truth should never have let you walk this deadly road at my side.

Don't hold me... you can't help me... I can't bear it...

But you match my wildness with gentle, inexorable strength. You pull me closer, wrap the blankets about us, silence me with your fingertips against my mouth. You kiss my throat, murmuring to me in wordless sounds that go no further than my ears, yet somehow drown out the oily hiss of the Ring's song; with a flick of your fingers it arcs backward on its chain to hang banished down my nape and spine. As simply as that it is silenced, quelled, no longer between us. And you are here, with me, comfort and strength and shelter and need all enfolded into your caresses, as you gather me into your arms and your body...

Oh, Sam...

And a small, broken sound escapes my lips as I submit not only to you but the future, and burrow into your warmth, and realize that this could be the last time...

Help me. Please. Fill me. I'm so... Empty...