**Happy New Year, everybody! Here is part two. I would love to hear your thoughts on this second installment. Hope you enjoy! :) **

**This is inspired by a dream I had about a year ago-- I just found the paper on which I wrote about it, and it inspired this story. It will be a short one (read: not a novel), but I wanted to split it into more than one part so that it can have more time to fully flesh out. At the end, I will also try to get a better title, since this one doesn't quite fit. Let me know what you think, and as always, Enjoy. :) **

**Before I start I want to ask that you please, please don't make your comments into a debate. Just keep it friendly and respectful. Etc.**

In regular school, this feeling I'm having right now was very familiar. Sweating palms, pounding heartbeat, a kind of rush in the ears that after a few minutes I realize is the sound of my own heavy breathing. This happens whenever I am a combination of scared and impassioned, when I find that I must raise my hand and say, No, this is wrong! And then, class would end and I would turn to writing as my outlet.

Frodo’s Thoughts

Frodo meditates while walking to  Crickhollow.

*Walking. Large strides, heavy heart, dark thoughts.*

“Start walking.

I wonder where Gandalf is? I’ve never known him to be truly late before, though sometimes you would think he was.

They have offered me my life for my love.
They will kill us all- unless we surrender lovely Julian.
He is more than what he seems. He is the chosen one; I see that now.
How could anyone do this to him? And how can he not do it? He is too noble to let them kill us all.
They will hand him over, and he will go.
Lovely Julian!
They have offered our lives for my love.

Behold, he speaks!
He says he will go. He will betray himself to death to save lives. If it will save lives. This he has determined to do, and he will not turn back.

Korin walks over and knocks on the door. “Hey! We need a new lamp in here!” There is no response. He pounds harder and finally we hear boots clattering on the stone.
“What’s going on in there?” an irritated voice sounds from the other side.
“We need a light. The lamp just went out.” Korin responds. Suddenly, without the sound of anything opening a lock, the door swings open and light spills back into the ink that is our cell. An extremely annoyed face covered in brown beard glares at Korin.

Some time ago (a couple weeks, I think), I was taking a walk on the bike path running near our house. It was a foggy day, but as I love walking in fog, I didn’t mind the clammy cold. I started at our street where the path crosses over, and headed down the path, going northeast. Ahead was pure fog; I could not see a thing in front of me. Taking some steps, and looking back, I could presently see nothing behind me either except the mist. I could only see some feet in front and behind me, and some feet on both sides of me. Walking as I was in this manner, a thought struck me.