Title: Invocation

Pairing: F/S

Rating: PG

Warnings: none.

Disclaimer: I'm only borrowing these characters and scenarios.

Feedback: Would be highly appreciated.

Summary: In Shelob's lair, someone watches over Frodo and Sam.

You couldn't see how the cragged walls, usually so unmoving in this darkness, quaked as the words tore from your throat: "Master, dear Master!" Such a cry of fury and anguish they have never heard, and they have heard the many cries of tortured prisoners and minions alike. The only other cry that has resounded so strongly within them was that of the dying Shelob, whom you smote in desperate vengeance of your fallen companion, your mate. The walls of Her lair were shaken by the defeat of their Mistress, and almost humbled in a way. But your mind could not comprehend this, for there was room for no thought, save one, which threatened to consume you.

You rushed to his side and fell to your knees, praying with all your being that your worst fear had not come to pass. "Oh, Frodo, me dear, wake up! Oh, please, wake up!" you pleaded, your eyes wildly scanning for signs of life. His face, which had glowed fair with stars and Sun when you had last seen it in the light, was now pallid and cold as stones beneath your fingertips as you searched for some warmth. Your ear, rested first upon his lips, then pressed against his chest, could not feel gathering mist, nor hear the steady cadence that had reassured you countless times in the past. You could, however, feel your own rhythm becoming ragged and painful, and you (along with the walls) could hear your heart splitting into thousands of shards, each one screaming "No!"

And then you felt each shard falling softly, like ash, whispering: "You failed him."

"Frodo, love," you said brokenly, "It's your Sam calling. Don't go where I can't follow. Don't leave me behind."   You willed his eyes to open and narrow in disbelief, as if to say, I've tried that before, Sam Gamgee, and it's obvious that I'll never be able to escape you! If only it were true now. You'd once made a promise that you'd never leave him, which was not only heard by his ears. That promise, which had proved true for so long, was now broken. Cruel, that you were separated from him at long last. Torture, that you'd never find him again.

"What do I do now?" you whispered, confused and afraid. "Do I stay with him here, or go on?" The last words rang with incredulity. "Go on? But how can I just take It from him and leave him?" You were suddenly weighed down with a cold, clutching terror that forced you to bow your head in despair. "Leave him! After all we've been through, after all we've seen, how could I leave him? Oh, what am I to do?" Abandoning moral debate for the time being, you took his leaden hand in yours, and finally allowed yourself to weep, harsh, wrenching sobs that nearly crumbled those walls, and another who was watching you from afar. You stroked his hand, trying to pour warmth and love into his body as you quieted down. In your grief, you did not feel the light brush against your brow, but you did feel strangely comforted and resolved.

"Well," you sighed, looking down at his face, "I suppose I know what I must do. I don't like it a bit, but naught will get done if I sit here. It's up to me to finish the task, it seems, so I'll have to take It and go on without him." But you made no signs of doing either. You couldn't let go, not yet.  Even now, you couldn't fathom abandoning all that you loved to lie alone in the darkness. Another wave of reassurance suddenly coursed through you, and you gathered all your courage and strength together to do the hardest thing you'd ever done in your life.

"Begging your pardon, Frodo dear, but I have to go on," you whispered, tears stinging your eyes. "Forgive your Sam for leaving you here alone. Forgive him for- for failing you. He never meant to." You paused, laying your face upon his for a moment. "But the task must be completed. And for that to happen, I'll have to take It from you, which I'm not all too sorry for." With that, you gently lifted his head, bestowed a kiss onto his forehead, and carefully relieved him of his burden, placing it about your own neck. "I'll be needing your Sting, and your phial, too. They're too good for the likes of me, but I'll need their light, for I'll always be in the dark now. Once I'm done, I'll come back, and I'll never leave your side again, I promise you." You pressed your lips to his, and they tasted bitter with his blood and your tears. "Do you understand?" you said, your lips now against his ear. "I've got to go on. But it'll be like leaving half my soul behind, it will. I can't remember a time when I didn't love you. Death would be the kindest end for me, but I reckon I don't deserve it. 

"Goodbye, my dear master!" you murmured, standing up, preparing to turn your back on the dearest thing your heart ever knew.  "Rest you quiet while I'm gone; and if the Lady could hear me and grant me one wish, I would wish to come back and find you again." Using the phial, you looked upon his illuminated face, lovely and tragic as an Elf's, for the last time and stumbled away, certain you hadn't been heard.

But you were not alone, Samwise Gamgee. Evil was not the only vigilant eye upon you there. Your invocation was heard, and your wish was granted, for you are both cherished more than you know. 

There was much I could not do for you, but I could not, and would not, deny you this.

*some lines taken directly from "The Two Towers".