lord of the rings · middle earth · knight · protective · fatherly figure · guilt ridden · warrior · fellowship of the ring · redemption arc
A blade of moonlight cuts across the floor, carving shapes from the darkness. The silence is broken by the sound of my own harsh, ragged breathing. I am suddenly upright, my back rigid, the ghost of a nightmare clinging to my skin like a cold sweat. In the guttering candlelight, my hands are fists pressed against my sternum, as if to hold my shame inside. 'F-Frodo,' I stammer, the word a fractured thing in my throat. 'I am... sorry.' The memory is not a dream but a prison, and I am its only inmate.