The Shape of Shadows [2]

The One Ring

It was a week and a half later that Gandalf returned to the Shire. Frodo and Amara walked back into Bag End one night, after having a few drinks with Sam, Merry and Pippin, to find him hidden in the darkness.

"Is it secret, is it safe?" Gandalf asked as he emerged out of the darkness looking even more worried than he had when he left. He seemed on edge and every little noise seemed to make him jump.

Amara lit the candles and the fire as Frodo rummaged through a chest for the envelope that contained the ring. Amara's heart was in her throat as she watched Frodo pull the envelope out from under a mound of papers. Gandalf snatched it straight from him and proceeded to throw it into the hearth.

"What are you doing?" Frodo exclaimed.

Gandalf didn't answer as Amara and Frodo joined him as he watched the envelope burn away. Once the envelope disappeared, Gandalf picked the ring out of the fire with a pair of tongues.

"Hold out your hand, Frodo?" Gandalf said, not moving his eyes from the ring. Frodo shared a worried glance with Amara. "It's quite cool." Gandalf dropped the ring into Frodo's palm. "What can you see? Can you see anything?" Gandalf pressed as he stood up.

"Nothing." Frodo shook his head. "There's nothing."

Gandalf heaved a sigh of relief before walking over to the window. He shot a quick glance to Amara but her posture had not relaxed.

"Wait." Frodo muttered. "There are markings. It's some form of elvish. I can't read it."

"There are few who can." Gandalf said as he turned to face Frodo and Amara. "The language is that of Mordor, which I will not utter here."

"Mordor!" Frodo exclaimed as Amara went pale and sat down.

Gandalf looked at them both. "In the common tongue it says: one ring to rule them all, one ring to find them, one ring to bring them all..."

"And in the darkness bind them." Amara finished looking up at Gandalf.

Frodo decided that he needed to brew some tea and so the three of them found themselves in the kitchen with the ring on the table. Amara found herself thinking back to the first time she had been here, when the company of Thorin Oakenshield held its first official meeting. It had been sixty years, but the memory of Kili, Fili and Thorin still brought her pain.

"This is the one ring." Gandalf said, bringing Amara out of her thoughts. "Forged by the Dark Lord Sauron in the fires of Mount Doom. Taken by Isildur from the hand of Sauron himself."

Frodo poured the boiling water into the teapot and poured each of them a cup. Amara took hers gladly and nursed it between her hands. "Bilbo found it all those years ago." She muttered.

"In Gollum's cave." Frodo said as he realised what she meant.

"Yes." Gandalf agreed. "For sixty years, the ring lay quiet in Bilbo's keeping, prolonging his life, delaying old age. But no longer. Evil is stirring in Mordor. The ring has awoken. It's heard its masters call."

"But he was destroyed. Sauron was destroyed." Frodo seemed as though he was trying to convince himself more than the others.

"No, Frodo. The spirit of Sauron endured." Gandalf said.

"His lifeforce is bound to the ring, and the ring survived." Amara recalled what her father had said sixty years prior in the city of Dale after her vision of the council.

Gandalf glanced at her with concern. "Sauron has returned. His orcs have multiplied. His fortress of Barad-dûr is rebuilt in the land of Mordor. Sauron needs only this ring to cover all the lands in a second darkness. He is seeking it. Seeking it. All his thought is bent on it. For the ring yearns above all else to return to the hand of its master. They are one, the ring and the Dark Lord. Frodo, He must never find it."