Disclaimers: I do not own The Lord of the Rings and "Star Wars". They belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, George Lucas, Bioware, and Disney. All other canon material belongs to their respected owners. All original material belongs to me, the authoress of this fanfiction story.

*.*.*

Basically, on January 23rd, 2019, I had a dream with Palpatine/Darth Sidious and Frodo. This is the one-shot that I wrote that came out of that dream. Enjoy! :)

*.*.*

Frodo Baggins awoke to the smell of charcoal and salt. He was laying on a massive iron metal grate, which made his back throb painfully. He groaned, scrambling to his feet as he observed pillars of obsidian stone spiking up towards the top of the sharp-edged ceiling.

Before the stone pillars were eight wooden thrones, placed in front of the obsidian stone pillars in a large circle. Sitting on those wooden thrones were a group of men and women all dressed in black robes. They looked menacing. Maybe it was better that Frodo leave this room before something bad happened to him.

Blast!

Torches blazed on the stone pillars, lighting the room in an orangish-yellow to different shades of green. The whole atmosphere was very frightening to say the least. Frodo wanted to leave. This room was just too evil for him to bear!

"Relax boy! You're not in danger yet!" an elderly fellow, dressed in dark robes and covered in wrinkles, said in a sinister voice.

"You must have questions. We'll be happy to answer them," said another elderly man with a kinder face and donned in silver armor.

Frodo faced the armored man, telling him, "I want to go home!" He was welcomed by shrills of laughter from the evil men and women. Frodo trembled, unsure what to do. "What?"

"You can leave whenever you want," the armored man said, extending his hand to him. "But first, you must bow before me."

"Ahem!" the wrinkled man cleared his throat.

"I mean, us," the armored man said, keeping his hand extended to the gentle-hobbit.

Frodo looked at the armored man's hand in vain. Should he take it? Should he just accept that he didn't know where he was? He gulped, unable to avoid the situation. He approached the armored man, taking his hand. He winced in pain, finding he was kneeling and bowing before the man. Frodo looked up at him, who he learned telepathically that the armored man's name was Valkorian and the wrinkled man's name was Darth Sidious. They wanted him, but for what purpose remained to be seen.

-x-

The days blurred the longer Frodo stayed at the Sith Temple. His lighter-than-usual skin turned white from lack of sunlight. His blue eyes became paler the more he focused on the Sith work that Valkorian and Darth Sidious wanted him to do. His fair elvish features were becoming thinner and muscular in twisted ways. His short pointy ears became cold from the chilly temple air. His soft, thick, curly dark brown hair on his head and the tops of his feet became wet and stuck to his skin from the amount of training he did.

The day he entered his room, Frodo was given a clean set of black robes, a synthetic tabard made out of black leather, similar to Anakin Skywalker's tabard that he found out during his various lightsaber training lessons, a grey utility belt to sheathe his weapons, and a strange silver hilted weapon that, when turned on, had a red beam zip out of one end of the hilt, leaving Frodo chilled to the bone. This was the last weapon he wanted to take. He was a good hobbit. He could never condone to the ways of the Sith!

Nevertheless, he had to use the weapon against his foes. There was no turning back. But surely, he could find a way out of this place.

-x-

Frodo opened the door to his room. The wide stone-walled hallway was pretty much empty. Only one Sith Acolyte was a distance away from his room, practically heading down the hallway and to the next corner. He sighed, deciding then to act like he was one of the Sith.

It was the only way he was getting out of this temple alive.

But where was he? What world, realm, or… planet was he on? If he could learn that knowledge, then he had a chance to leave this world and return to his home world, Middle-earth.

He darted off, searching endlessly down the hallway for a terminal. At last, he found one! The holoterminal and security room lay several doors down from his room, but it was there nevertheless! Okay, so how was he to locate his homeworld? He needed to type in a few buttons and… there! He got it!

What are you doing here, boy? Valkorian's voice radiated inside Frodo's head, forcing the poor hobbit to cover his ears and collapse on the stone floor in pain. He told the lad, shrilly, Even you cannot escape the Sith! You—are—MINE!

Frodo screamed, finding his thoughts overwhelmed by darkness. Valkorian took over for a few minutes; at least, until his voice vanished from Frodo's thoughts, leaving the poor hobbit feeling empty inside. The gentle-hobbit opened his eyes, returning to his room to look at himself in the mirror. His eyes were no longer bright blue, but yellow. The yellow in his irises was intense and full of rage. Frodo snarled, ready for anything.

Valkorian did it alright. Frodo was now a member of the Sith and loving every minute of it.

*.*.*

Thanks for reading. :)