"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."

a plea;

themagehero:

ninefingered:

Odd how he once felt so comforted around others a few weeks ago. Now this. Back to how it was, leery of those that weren’t an assured friend. 

“No — that is of every importance. ” His voice, though slurred in agony, is very clear on that, the cloudy eyes, terrible in their almost emptiness, settle on Daylen’s face.

“What is done to me is nothing. It will pass. It is my companion who faces greater pains than I do, if they..” A sharp intake of breath, not exhaling, fear of drawing out the pain, the greatest the wound from Weathertop.

“If they are discarded like trash then…then I must go with him…cannot…abandon him — ” Bleary eyes took sight of the hand and a feeble smile touched his lips, not full of any real happiness.

“You…are kind — I do not know if I can reach…” Perhaps his other shoulder might help but he was in too much pain to move, presently.

The mage had been in this city for a few months, and regaining the memories back had been a large shock to him. But those memories weren’t all that traumatic, weren’t what the other man was going through

Daylen thought he knew now what was going on, or at least his own idea of it. Damn those scientists, forever and always. The other man’s eyes were almost empty. The mage could recognize that emptiness, he’d experienced it before too many times.

The other man seemed to be in a lot of pain, so Daylen withdrew his hand and instead got onto the ground next to the other man. Right now, all he could really do was let the memories come and try to be a reassurance, to help the man. He believed in protecting and helping others, after all.

“I can only assume you’re remembering things, but right now we need to let those memories come. The scientists trapped you here, and presumably took away your memories of your homeland as they did to my memories of this city.

So the pain, everything you will have went through will come back. All at once. But I’m not about to leave you alone to suffer all this, even if I don’t even know you.”

They were all flooding back to him, so quickly he could scarcely draw breath. In this condition, it was no different than having the Ring in full power back on his shoulders again, wrapped tight around his neck. Frodo struggled for a breath of clean air and found no respite. All he saw was Gandalf falling in Moria, Sam defenseless in Eru knew where, if this place was any sort of charitable sort, and it wasn’t. They most likely hadn’t even dropped him off in the area around Cirith Ungol. Wherever it was, he prayed against all hope that it was safe, that he could last until he was able to reach him again.

He cursed his weakness of body, that he could not follow the one who had willingly chosen to follow his Master despite said Master’s protests that none follow and suffer alongside him. Sam had done so much for him but he could not even reach him? It made his eyes sting. 

What Daylen spoke was obvious, he was feeling it now, but the words at the end warranted some sort of thank-you, as did himself being someone who didn’t seem in the business of harming him.

“..You’ve..my thanks, for staying, at the least.” Frodo spoke softly, breathing ragged, slurred and once again heavy with the weight of things he had forgotten about for a time.

It truly had all been a dream.

“Who..who are you?”