He stood in Sauron's smithy. He had carried himself there on his own two feet. He drew out that … Lover? Master? Self? ... that Golden Ring. And he remembered no more.
Until he found himself standing beside his … Servant? Gardener? Brother? ... his Friend of Friends. Sam had carried him out….
But to Mordor, the land of despair.
To be out, Frodo knew now, was not to be whole — was not to be happy.
"Come in, Mr. Frodo. You'll catch your death of cold out here!"
And Sam led him through the green door of Bag End.