THE ONE
Ever wondered what would've happened if the one ring was restored? What would happen if Sauron had reached out somehow and caught the one ring before it went into Mount Doom?
Well, here's a speculation fic, a story of "what if?"
Also, an immense spoiler- so If you don't know HOW the ring got into the fiery mountain- If you don't know who own the three (Elven rings) - then read no further! I'd hate for me to spoil your surprise!
We begin from the deciding second… There's no build up to the climatic action, I just drop you straight in! Hold on!
Sam watched in horror as Gollum grappled
with the invisible Mr. Frodo. The heat of the forges searing his face and
drying his eyes out, and his hands clenched uselessly on the dry, dusty ground
before him, dirt finding its way under his fingernails. Dirt that had never
known a drop of water and gathered on his sweaty palms, caked under his chin
unnoticed as the scene unfolded. The seeming alone Gollum rolled this way and
that, biting the empty air, snarling and cursing in his hideous hissing language,
and Sam, poor Sam watched helplessly.
Gollum grabbed something invisible and brought it to his sharp fang rimmed
mouth, eyes aglow with malicious hate- a sickly green of the prosperous that
arose from the rotting dead.
Sam didn't think- he felt the dirt give beneath him as his heart lurched, fear gripping his throat as his sluggish, starving, thirsty mind made connections- a cold premonition like an icy finger down his spine. He KNEW what Gollum planned to do.
"Oi! Stinker! You let him go you rotten little slimy Gollum! Let him go! Don't you be biting my Master!" His sturdy little body flew at the grappling pair, knocking them all down, precariously close to the hell light of the furnace below.
This had been all the leeway Frodo had needed. Sam, now locked with Gollum, clutching, grasping fingers around his dry throat, felt an invisible foot in his stomach as something ran towards the cooler entrance
"Master Frodo! No sir- come back!" He
cried, feeling the sharp pain of betrayal, of abandonment, uselessness. His
voice died to a squeak as Gollum tightened his horrible fingers.
"Nasssty fat hobbit! You letsss him escape uss! You letsss him escape and now
HE hall get it! You horrible nasty CRUEL hobbitses!" Gollum shrieked, tearing
at Sam's face as the poor hobbit struggled for air. A welcome relief when he let
go, finally deciding to follow his "precious" rather then throttle Sam.
Sam struggled up to all fours, gasping and coughing, half ragged sobs tore at him as he got o his feet and hurried after his master, his poor twisted master…
But he slid to a stop just as he broached the cave and burst into the dim light. A horrible, icy wail made his innards freeze. His voice died in his throat, the cold, deadly flap of wings thundered through the sky, cries of triumph rent the air like vicious blades, Sam wept as he ran, terrified, but his love for Frodo overpowered, a bend in the road displayed all. The showy cloaked forms, one holding something invisible at arms length, crying its macabre message of triumph over the plains and featureless mountain side- another with a gauntleted grip on Gollum. Their steeds leered overhead, perched on rocky outcroppings like nightmarish birds of prey.
"No!" he howled, flying at the one struggling to take something away from the invisible Frodo. He hit the voluminous cloaks of the Nazgul full on, beating and stabbing with his little sword. He barely head Frodo's source less cries and objections.
A cold steel hand grabbed him by the scruff of the neck like some disobedient puppy, and he rose from the ground fighting and sobbing.
Gollum was now scratching at his own face repeating "You have failed! You have failed! He has it now! Bad hobbitses! Not listen to wise Sméagol!" and Frodo hung limply from the Nazgul's cold hand, eyes wide but twisted, now fully visible, scratching and tearing at the unfeeling arm that held him. Sam relaxed, closing his eyes. Frodo's wordless cries rent at him. The one ring had been taken from him by force…
Aragorn watched as they beat back the now timid forces of Mordor, triumph surging through his veins. Where had the Nazgul gone and why so suddenly? He knew that should concern him but he had to worry about cleaning out the hosts first.
Suddenly the evil orcs and horrors they
battled from Mordor gave a mighty cheering cry, and the King's heart quailed…
What new devilry was this? The troops re attacked with new vigour. Aragorn felt
his doom heavy upon him… they would die here, outnumbered in the dust.
He signalled his troops to continue the battle, hopelessly until it's
inevitable end- but the remarkable happened- a relief, yet a portent that
seemed more fell then the renewed vigour. A brazen iron horn rang from the
towering gates, and they suddenly retreated, filing back past the ominous
gates, cheering and chanting, full of bravado.
The gates shut with a terrible clang and only the opposing forces and the dead remained.
"Gandalf,
old friend, what..." he began to ask his perplexment, but the old man silenced
him with a hand.
"I do not know, Aragorn, son of Arathorn, but I do not like it one bit. There
is something fiendish on the air. Recall the troops and find the wounded. We
make our way back to Gondor- the riders of Rohan, tokens from the princes- all."
With that, he wheeled Shadowfax into the milling and confused crowds, on the
search for wounded.
Gimli and Legolas rode upon the back of Arod beside the small form of Pippin, who lay wounded on the wagon.
"It is indeed a blessing you found young
Pippin, Friend Gimli" Legolas said into the heavy silence that fell over the
column like a cloud of doom "I would sorely miss the company of one we have
spent such time and effort to find."
"Indeed, friend Legolas. I scarce believe my own luck in finding him." The silence
fell again like a funeral shroud. Legolas tentively spoke again after several
agonizing minutes, speaking worry that lay on his mind
"Gimli, this- dark depression concerns me so, I fear it may cast a pall on the healing of the wounded, on the spirits and mind- for if there is more fighting, why, how can these men battle with their souls leaden as such?"
Gimli smiled in spite of himself, in spite
of the same gloomy darkness that lay heavily upon him
"Ah, my incorrigible friend Legolas! How I wish I had your light, gay heart! I
do not know if we shall survive an attack- I do not know what causes this
darkness, but I feel it too. Even these fields of Ithillian seem dark and dank
to my heavy heart"
"Ah me, I must confess all is not light and gay with me, either, friend, although
the sights and scents of this fair place delight me so, it is in a melancholy way.
I almost feel as if a winter is to descend, and spring shall never return."
"Don not speak of that!" Both Gimli and Legolas turned about to face Gandalf as
he nudged his great grey beside them. "It's an evil air that descends from Mordor
that darkens you so. Do not think or speak on it! We shall return to Gondor
soon."
They rode together in silence for a time, then Gandalf spoke again. "Friends, I have special missions fro you both, for I did not ride here t you just to tell you off for dark murmurings, nor to share gloom laden silence with you. We need to gather a council together. It is clear to me that whatever has occurred in Mordor- whatever or wherever the Ring barer and his quest are now; we can not face this alone. Legolas, I ask you to ride out when the sun fails and ride swiftly to the home of your father. Implore him to gather as many elves as remain and bring them to Gondor- stress the importance and speak your darkest fears. When they are upon the road, ride as swiftly, accompanied by Gimli, as I see you shall not be parted, to the Iron hills and the Lonely Mountain and set the Dwarves on the same path, this war will concern all the races of middle earth…" He spoke so gravely Gimli, stout hearted Gimli began to quail and Legolas shifted nervously on Arod's back. Presently the elf spoke in his light fair voice, still like a small ray of light upon the darkened earth despite the doubt and fear that now lay heavily upon it.
"What of the Halflings? They have proved to be stout peoples… will you not summon them?" he placed a delicate hand on Pippins small shoulder. Gandalf looked weary.
"I have indeed thought long and hard on that, but I have not made a decision. The Hobbits know nothing of war, and the darkness shall not touch them yet… but I do not know." He sighed deeply, studying Pippin's young, blood and dirt smeared face "I am riding with Elladan and Elrohir to alert both Galadriel and Elrond, and implore their help. Rivendell is not that far from Hobbiton. I may pass by at the very least to see their situation." He sighed, and the three friends sank into silence.
Oooh! What happens next?
The next chapter shall be up soon, and will concern the council of these
peoples… And the fate of Frodo… Will Sauron kill him? What will the dark lord
of Mordor do with Sam and Gollum? Why does he wait in silence and allow his
enemies to rally?
Find out next chapter!
