Burning Blood

A/n: Here's a little drabble, a hundred-word story, to celebrate my sixteenth birthday, which was yesterday. I'm following hobbit customs and giving treats (

Disc: Not mine.

Fire seeps from the Mountain, as blood flows from my hand. The Ring has torn us both apart, Mordor and myself. Do we feel the same pain? Blood and fire…burning blood…oh Sam…

Sam holds me, cradles my hand. So strong, he's still whole, but his wholeness cannot fill me. I am broken, blood and fire and life flowing from me. I will die, a broken hobbit on a shattered mountain. But not Sam, please, if Mercy truly exists. His heart does not bleed despair and death…still not broken…dear Sam…my blood mingles with Mordor's at the end of all things.