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Frodo has thought since he first crossed the Anduin River and felt the soil of the Mordor side of shore beneath his toes, that there was no way he was going to get out of this quest alive. That was the main reason why he'd been so determined to go alone. Better that than drag everyone else to their deaths with him.
He wasn't sure what he had expected would happen when he finally threw the ring into the mountain but the whole thing blowing up really hadn't been on the list of things he'd dreamed about. Nor among his nightmares.
A volcanic eruption was what had happened though. Of course the unexpected, unplanned thing was what Frodo and Sam had to deal with when they were both bone tired and malnourished.
They had managed to outrun the rising lava, rushing out of the volcano's interior before somehow finding the strength to clamber up a rocky crag. There both Frodo and Sam finally collapsed, high enough up that they are not in immediate danger of melting in the scorching heat but Frodo could still feel the hair on his toes singe.
'Sam doesn't look any better but he still had all of his fingers.' Frodo thought. He couldn't say that about himself. It was the price he had to pay for failing in the end.
The little gardener had come so far since he was so scared to leave the Shire. Their leaving home felt like some pleasant dream now that they were so far away. Months and endless miles spanned between the Frodo that had walked through Farmer Maggot's field and the one sitting here now. Frodo didn't know whether he would be able to recognise himself anymore.
He wouldn't mind returning to the Shire but it didn't seem like that would ever happen, he no longer had the strength to even sit up never mind track back the way they had come.
Frodo had Sam though and that was enough.
If he is to die here at least he has Sam.
At least there is Sam. Samwise Gamgee is as much a home for his heart as Bag End ever was.