Drabble: Wheel of Fire

[claudia603]

Wheel of fire, careening and hissing. Always burning. The goose feather pillow becomes molten rock, the blankets so lovingly tucked around his chin turn into clutching hands, always after the precious.

“Mr. Frodo,” the plaintive voice says, keeping away the shadows for only a moment.

“Where am I?” Frodo asks, his voice hoarse, lips cracked. “So thirsty.”

“You’re with your Sam and no place else.”

Frodo smiles, brief serenity crosses his face. “Sam…”

The wheel of fire cannot block the calloused hands over pale smooth skin, lips clamping with earthy good sense, setting a different kind of fire within him.