| Subject: unending |
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sam
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Date Posted: 21:15:23 09/11/02 Wed
Sam was in the middle of one horrible night. It was the worst he had ever had. Nightmares about everything and anything, it was so scary how real it felt.
Flashes of images, some longer than others. Images and events that had been, events that are, and Sam hoped, events that would never be.
He was drowning, the light above was growing darker and his mind was clouding up. He was blacking out, losing oxygen fast.
He couldn’t swim! He couldn’t stay above the water! This was it, the end.
No oxygen. No air to breathe. His lungs felt like they were being squeezed, compressed.
Where was Frodo? Surely he would help. He wouldn’t just leave him to drown. Would he?
It was getting darker. He couldn’t see a thing.
Sam reached up into the lighter water and tried valiantly to pull himself upwards.
One last try.
All hope lost.
Sam felt himself lose all his energy and he blacked out.
“I’m leaving you Sam…”
“Dad!”
“Ryna? Where are you?”
Sam stood in a field, the colour of blood red. There was a vast emptiness around him. Nothing could be seen in any direction.
“DAD!”
“Ryna? I can’t see you. Where are you? What is happening?”
“Dad! Why aren’t you saving me?”
“I’m trying! I am” Tears ran down Sam’s cheeks. What was happening? Why was Ryna in trouble? Where was she? There was nothing around. Her voice seemed to come out of no where yet everywhere at the same time.
Ryna’s screams filled the air. High petrified screams that were endless.
“RYNAAAAAA!!! Ryna” Sam began to sob “Ryna! Where are you? Please”
Ryna’s screams were suddenly cut off and there was silence. Sam felt a part of himself rip out of him as Ryna’s presence was felt no more. Sam felt nothing. He fell to the ground.
“…It isn’t working…”
There were five tall figures, three advancing. In their faces burned keen and merciless eyes, in their hands were swords of steel. Their eyes fell on him and pierced him, as they rushed towards him. Desperate, he drew his own sword. Two of the figures halted. The third was taller than the others: his hair was long and gleaming and on his helm was a crown. In one hand he held a long sword, and in the other a knife. He sprang forward and bore down on Frodo.
“This is Frodo’s nightmare” murmured Sam before rolling over and falling back into his fitful sleep.
At that moment Frodo threw himself forward on the ground. At the same time he struck at the feet of his enemy. A shrill cry rang out in the night and he felt a pain like dart of poisoned ice pierce his left shoulder. Even as he swooned he caught, as though a swirling mist, a glimpse of Strider leaping out of the darkness with a flaming brand of wood in either hand.
“…I can’t bear it anymore…”
All he could see were hobbits, all in a long line that went on forever. It was dark, the sky was cloudy and grey and everywhere was a sense of defeat and sadness. They had been defeated, the shire and all of middle earth had been taken over and ruled by Sauron. They were all slaves. All the people he cared about were either dead or just about. Sam was starving and exhausted. He was one of the last in his group. The rest of the fellowship was gone. Not that it mattered. There was nothing else to live for.
“There is nothing else here for us and you won’t leave. Our children are gone and there is no food left. I’m sorry.”
Sam jolted awake; he had been having a bad night. Ryna was crying in the next room. She was obviously was going through the same thing. He had the feeling everyone was. No one got reoccurring nightmares like that naturally. And he and Ryna both? It didn’t make sense. He had the feeling this was going to go on all-night and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
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