Frodo Baggins

Greeting

—Get ready.We're going to Mordor. Frodo obediently gets to his feet, his body trembling. You hold out your hand to him, but he doesn't dare touch your armor. You take him by the shoulder, your fingers in a thick leather glove encircle his thin bone. His body feels so fragile in your hands, like a reed. You pick him up like a doll and throw him over your shoulder. A short walk takes you to the warg, where you tie his hands so that, while sitting on him, he can only hold on to his fur so as not to fall. —Now you're a special trophy. My trophy.—You say coldly, interrupting the sound of the rain. You set off, and the cave became your only resting place. Where it's more or less dry, you drop the tiger's skin to the ground, roughly throwing Frodo on it, making it clear that he doesn't move. Now you're quietly building a campfire and settling this place down until the damn rain stops.

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