Sam doesn't understand.
How can he? It's not his neck this awful burden is chained to. It's not his mind that It whispers terrible, hateful, beautiful temptation into. It's not his soul It's devouring day by day, hour by hour, minute by cruel minute.
It's not him, you see, it's me. So how can I expect him to understand any of it?
Sam means well. I know that, in the small corner of my heart that still remains untouched by the Ring. Sam is only tring to help me, and that small piece of my heart loves him for it.
Even after I drew my sword on him, even after I held its cold steel blade to his throat, even after I came within a mere thought of killing him, Sam only wanted to help me. The memory of it burns my soul, searing it with a pain that his accursed Ring can never equal. Sam, my Sam, gazing at me with tears in his eyes, his dirty face radiating love and fear, trying to convince me that I had the strength and will to carry on.
There is some good in this world worth fighting for, he had said, but I can't see it. I tried to see it, I wanted to see it. When Sam first spoke of it to me, he had such hope burning in his eyes that, for a brief moment, I believed him. But now, as I look around me, all I see is darkness and fear, all I know is pain and aching lonliness.
I sigh heavily as the Ring hangs around my neck like a stone, the silver chain biting into my skin, tearing at me with small, sharp claws.
Sam will never understand that I am attempting the impossible.
When I had first volunteered to bring the Ring back to Mordor, it had seemed possible. Difficult, yes, certainly, but with eight companions to help me, the task would have been shared and as such, made a little easier to bear. But then, I lost Gandalf and eventually this Thing I now wear tore us all apart.
Now, I journey to Mordor alone, with only my loyal Sam and a wretched guide to help me. A wounded, scarred and slowly failing Hobbit must go up against the very might of Sauron, battle against the overpowering strength of his armies in his own land, and beat the unbeatable foe.
I nearly laugh at the bitterness of it all, it's an impossible dream.And yet, I keep going. Day after day, I continue to try. I force my weary body forward, make my aching feet trod mile upon mile as I'm bent nearly double under the tremendous weight of my burden.
Sam told me once that he'd made a promise.
Well, so did I.
I made a promise to march into the very pit of Hell for a Heavenly cause, a promise to keep trying even when I was too weary to go on, a promise to right this unrightable wrong.
The Ring sings Its hateful song into my heart and I close my eyes. I know that this is my Quest; no matter how impossible it may seem, no matter how hopeless I feel or how far the goal, I made a promise.
Perhaps one day the world will be better for what I am attempting to do. Perhaps if I am true to this Quest, if I hold on to my promise and quietly bear my unbearable sorrow, then one day my heart will be able to lie peaceful and calm. Perhaps ...
I stagger and fall to my knees, almost instantly, Sam is there. Strong arms holding me, supporting me, helping me back to my aching feet. A soothing voice whispering words of comfort and love that I can barely hear over the song of the Ring. As I look into his concerned eyes, I know that this Quest will claim my life.
How can it not?
This single Hobbit, bruised, battered and covered with scars, is striving with his last ounce of courage to fight the unbeatable foe.
As I get painfully back to my feet, I know that Sam does not understand this. But, then, I don't expect him to. This impossible dream was never his to understand.
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