Prompt: What if you were given the chance to rewrite the plot of your favorite story? Not as the author but as a scrapped character?

**

I had to return to the swamp mission, where I had that strange Alice in Wonderland hallucination, to find out if I had delivered the message.

This time, I was careful with the mushrooms, jumping over them or climbing trees to avoid stepping on any. The hallucination, a bizarre journey through a topsy-turvy world, had left me disoriented and questioning my reality.

I reached the swamp, shrouded in fog. The water surface was burning in places due to the sulfur. It was like a candle in the water, with just the vast flame visible. I didn't understand it because water and fire don't usually coexist. It was a spooky place, and my skin crawled, especially when I noticed bodies in the water, their white skin glowing in the dark gray water. I stepped cautiously to avoid falling into the water among the corpses.

Then I saw three figures. Two were short hobbits, and there was a scrawny creature whose species I couldn't identify. They seemed familiar somehow, so I followed them. What else could I do? I suspected I was part of some story again and just needed to figure out which one and why I was there.

One of the hobbits slipped into the water, and I immediately ran to save him at all costs. When I grabbed him by the collar and pulled him out, I recognized Frodo. Gasping for air, Frodo looked at me, and by then, Sam had arrived, staring at me with wide eyes: "Tom! By God, you're Tom Bombadil!" He gave me a friendly pat on the back.

"Hey, dol! Merry dol! Ring a dong dillo!" I said, or did I sing? I need to find out where I got that from. I only then noticed the long, thick beard falling onto my chest, moving as I spoke.

It happened again; I was in a story and hallucinating again. But why, since I had avoided the mushrooms? The sulfurous air may have had this effect on me. I remembered the hobbits' story but needed to know how Tom ended up here. I thought he was a character from the beginning of the story.

"It seems it's your habit to save us!" Sam enthused. "Remember, Frodo, when he saved us, and Merry and Pippin, from Old Man Willow, and later from the Barrow-wights?"

Frodo smiled gratefully at me.

"Yes, and I think that's why I'm here now!" I replied, remembering that I was always curious about what would have happened if Frodo and Sam hadn't listened to Gollum and went straight to the Black Gate. Can I rewrite the story?

Frodo looked better now and hugged me, too. "Tell me, old friend, how do you plan to help us?"

"I suggest you don't follow Gollum, as he will only lead you on a needlessly longer, dangerous path, and his sole aim is to get the ring," I answered.

"See, Frodo, I told you!" Sam agreed.

Gollum eyed me suspiciously and seemed to spit in my direction. "Who is this old man?" he hissed through his teeth.

"And Tom, do you know the way?" Frodo asked.

"Gollum will lead us to the Black Gate, or I'll tear him to pieces!" I threatened. "From there, we'll go straight through the gate."

"Madness!" the scrawny creature hissed. "Going through the gate is suicide. I know a much safer path, though it might take a little longer..."

I raised my fist threateningly, and he fell silent. He reluctantly led us through the swamp, muttering to himself all the way.

The Black Gate's immense size surprised me; it was much more robust than I had imagined. It was open, and soldiers were marching through it, adding to the tension of our mission.

Gollum fell behind somewhere, and we didn't see him again, but we didn't bother about him anymore. Hiding behind the rocks, we discussed passing through the gate unnoticed.

"If we set a fire there at the edge of the forest," I pointed to a nearby spot, "we could distract the guards and somehow make it through."

The two hobbits thought it was a good idea, so we circled the clearing before the gate to approach the small forest. We found some discarded orc armor and helmets among the dry trees, likely left from a previous skirmish. We gathered these, as they would serve as good disguises when we attempted to cross the gate.

We didn't have to fuss long with starting the fire; in the heat, the trees and wilting bushes quickly caught and roared with huge flames. Our plan was working, as we soon saw some commotion at the gate, with sacks being brought to the side where the flames were spreading.

We returned to the other side and waited for it to get darker. The fire didn't die down; it spread over a larger area, coming close to the massive gate's left side, where more and more sacks were piled up. In the confusion, we saw one sack burst open, spilling sand all over the ground. The soldier responsible received heavy blows to his head and back. Using the chaos to our advantage, we donned the orc armor and tried to blend in. Our height made it difficult, but we managed to slip through the gate with everyone rushing around and panicking about the encroaching fire. Sam was gasping for breath, so nervous he jumped at every little noise. Frodo, on the other hand, looked worse and worse. It was clear the ring's power was consuming him constantly. He would stop frequently as if having visions, and he was no longer the cheerful little hobbit I remembered from the books.

"Shall I help carry the ring?" I asked, helping him remove his helmet and the orc armor. His face was much more worn, and his eyes stared at mine with a dazed look. "Remember?" I continued. "The ring had no effect on me. Perhaps I could carry it until we reach Mount Doom."

He nodded and, although hesitantly, took the ring from around his neck and placed it around mine. His face was terrifying as he looked at the ring. The sadness in his eyes and that longing—I hadn't realized how much torment it caused him.

"But always stay close to me! And be very careful with it!" he said, and I could see the immense effort it took for him to finally let go of my shoulders.

I noticed a certain degree of relief on his face, and it was for the best because we were immediately faced with the barren, hostile land. We traveled at night and hid during the day to avoid the patrols.

The journey across the plains of Gorgoroth was exhausting. The extreme weather and the need to use all my skills to find water or food wore me out. But it wasn't just me—the two hobbits also ran low on their reserves. We trudged on, worn out, with the hot wind chafing our skin.

We frequently encountered those flying scouts circling above us more often, which slowed us down.

Frodo surprisingly managed hunger well. Sometimes, we survived for days on nothing but some bugs, scurrying over the smoldering hot ground with their quick legs.

Sam was a bit more unstable, but I admired him for persisting even when we couldn't find any bugs.

Frodo looked at me suspiciously as if he didn't trust me. I would wink at him and show him I still had the ring in those moments. There were nights when I woke up to find him lying close to me, fumbling with my shirt, trying to pull out the ring. There were also times when he succeeded, and the ring was already halfway on his finger, and I woke to the sound of Frodo's heavy breathing.

Sam would wake up at my shout and barely manage to pull him off me. His desire for the ring grew stronger as we got closer to our goal. He explained that he had never felt its effect this intensely before and said he understood how Gollum had gone mad.

He once cried, asking when all of this would end. I felt so sorry for him.

Then, when we reached Mount Doom's fiery heart, I gave him back the ring so he could complete the task. And I think everyone knows what happened from there...

As for me, I needed to run again, far away, until the entire barren landscape disappeared, and once more, forests surrounded me, and I could no longer see Tom's beard fluttering on my chin.