"I should like to save the Shire, if I could - though there have been times when I thought the inhabitants too stupid and dull for words, and have felt that an earthquake or an invasion of dragons might be good for them. But I don't feel like that now. I feel that as long as the Shire lies behind, safe and comfortable, I shall find wandering more bearable: I shall know that somewhere there is a firm foothold, even if my feet cannot stand there again."

carrying the world around his neck

"I see no hope of it now. But I've got to do the best I can."

Gathering Darkness, Vlad Dracula + Frodo Baggins

thesonofthedragon:

As the shadows grew long, and darkness enveloped the forested slopes of the Carpathians, Vlad went out to hunt. The terrible necessity of this had increased since he had drunk of Mirena’s blood and changed forever.

He was sunk still in his feelings of guilt and despair over the loss of Mirena, and baulked at taking another innocent human life, but would seek out the wicked, or the enemies of his people, for it assuaged his own guilt in the act somewhat. 
His vampiric vision picked up the heat of living creatures, and in a subtle way, the quality of their life force, carried in the blood, which pulsed with light. He flew, shape-shifting into a cascade of small batlike forms down over the mountainside and towards the lights of villages below. On the lower slopes his attention was caught by the sight of a single very strong red - glowing aura, close to but not on the main road. Someone alone in the forest after dark was most unusual, especially since news of vampires being abroad had spread.
Dracula descended almost silently through the canopy of the trees and alighted on the forest floor. A darker shadow in the gloom, he approached the lone traveller. 
As he got closer, he was astounded to see this person crouched over a campfire upon which a small kettle steamed. At the same time, Vlad became aware of a strange phenomena, which emanated from this small male, who was perhaps only a head taller than his son, and yet had a sturdy adult body. 
It was a thrum, not the heartbeat of this strange personage, but something more, a pulse that called to him, that caused the demon inside to uncoil in recognition of it.. it was power, and darkness.

Vlad was instantly wary, but he would find out what this thing was, and who it was that had brought it into his domain. He stepped out of the lee of a tree and moving towards the traveller, said casually. 

“ It is not wise, my friend, to be abroad after dark in these parts, these forests are full of dangers.”

He was either going mad or he had somehow been taken from the road to Cirith Ungol by a magic – or power – that he knew too well. That was destroying him slowly but surely. Gone was the innocence of the middle-aged hobbit who sought only adventure and tales worthy of being told. Like Uncle like Nephew –…but he reminded himself bitterly at times that he was nothing like Uncle, could not be, the burden he chose to bear had been in part out of his wish to protect him from the Ring’s stain. IT had already done so much by their parting. 

Our last parting, no..I do not feel I shall return again. But Samwise..I have cursed him to think it the wise choice to follow me into darkness and death, and now I have left him by no choice of my own from heaven’s know what. Alone with Smeagol they are bound to quarrel – even.. 

A shaking breath escaped him, shoulders far too thin beneath his elven cloak shaking with the weight of his burden. Since coming to wherever these woods were, he had little option but to find a camp, make the smallest fire possible, (for it was too cold and if he were to die –) and try to warm bones that would never strengthen as they had. 

Even so, even feeling in his heart, a spirit near shattered, a body breaking from the weight – Frodo knew he had to continue. Even if caught in a detour. It was his immeasurable strength of will that kept the hobbit even conscious. Or else the pain would have swept him away long ago. 

And that’s when he felt it.

Without much of an option, Frodo had noticed that when darkness and danger grew near that the Ring gleefully clamored towards it, pressing down on his shoulders, around a neck already carved with welts and it’s indention on the chain. He felt it keenly now, enough that his grip on his tea trembled, sucking in a breath.

It is getting..so heavy..—

With a sip that felt useless granted the pain, the Hobbit set it down, hands fumbling for Sting, wondering if it would shine for him and tell him if orcs were near. Or…if it were a far greater thing to fear.

By the time the voice was heard he’d already turned his head in that direction, meeting the gaze of a pale man who seemed to come as if from nowhere. 

The Race of Man, glorious but of Isildur..who was taken by the Ring..
He could almost feel Gandalf’s cautionary words wash over him, and his own body was rigid with pain – and that caution. 

Lifting his gaze, the visitor might have been startled to see eyes that did not belong on such a small body, let alone any’s. They were old, near see-through as if something was tearing the little man apart..but in them was also wisdom, a strength that had yet to be strangled. Those eyes watched, hand removing itself from Sting. 

“No, but I find few places that are.” A man’s voice came from a small body, wary and cautious – Frodo had a feeling he was right to be so.
“But I am lost – cold. There is little option left to me then making what provisions I may and hoping I survive the night before seeking out the familiar.” For a moment his renewed grip on the cup seemed to shake, not out of fear but pain. A part of him was numb to fear – just as it was aware of it. 

“….Who are you, sir? Have I disrupted you in some way?”
Please, leave me in peace. What I carry could mean your doom,
and many others. I will not risk that and so I will risk the wood.