Arachnophobic

Disclaimer: Nope, nothing is mine. I'm just using the characters so I can sadistically torment them.

Well, it's almost Halloween and I decided to write a creepy story involving Frodo, because there can never be enough Frodo torture.

It was nighttime, and the only sound that could be heard in Frodo's room was the soft scratching of his pen. A few minutes idly ticked by and he laid down his pen and read over what he had carefully written. He nodded in satisfaction. He would write the rest of that chapter tomorrow. Now it was time for bed.

The candle on his desk was still burning and Frodo was about to blow it out, but something caught his eye. At first he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him, but then he saw it move. It was small and black and was slowly crawling across the desk. Frodo was unsure of what it is until it crawled over into the candlelight.

It was not big and it was not small either, but it was large enough to install fear within the hobbit. As Frodo watched it creep along, his body froze up and his eyes widened. He put his hand on his chest and touched a wound that was there; a wound that had been inflicted by a creature not so different from the one that was now right in front of him.

It had stopped moving and now just sat there. A many-legged dark brown mass. Its hideous head was facing Frodo and seemed to be eyeing the hobbit up like a predator observing its prey.

Frodo didn't understand why he was so frightened, but he was. He was terrified. He was helpless. He felt sick. His head was spinning and his body felt weak, and he was ashamed of himself for such sick weakness. He was behaving like a coward and there was nothing he could do about it. He no longer had control over his emotions or actions. It was in control.

He gulped and as the saliva traveled down his throat, his mouth suddenly felt dry. He could imagine it pouncing on his face and puncturing his eyeball with one of the sharp pincer-like legs at the front of its head. He could almost feel the blood that would run from his ruined eye, leaking down his face and into his open, screaming mouth. He could almost taste the tangy blood that would be there, mixed with fluids from his eye.

The frightening thoughts were enough to make the hobbit cover his face with his hands tightly and hastily scoot his chair back a foot.

After sitting that way for about a minute, he slowly lowered his hands and looked at the desk. The spider had disappeared from his sight and he didn't know where it had gone. It could be anywhere. It could be on the floor, inching its way towards him. Or it could be right behind him, about to crawl up his back and sink its teeth into his vulnerable flesh.

The very thought of that made Frodo stand up, leave the room, and tightly shut the door. He didn't even bother blowing out the candle or tidying up his papers. He just wanted to get out of that room as fast as possible.

He crawled into bed and pulled the blankets tightly around his body. As much as he tried, he couldn't stop thinking of them. Spiders. Lots of crawling, black spiders, flooding his bedroom and wrapping him in webs. After all this time, he was still traumatized by the memory of Shelob and was still frightened by her and anything that reminded him of her.

He didn't know how long he lay there, but he eventually fell asleep and slipped into troubled dreams. His dreams were filled with them; crawling all over his body and making his skin tingle and itch, forcing their way through his mouth and scuttling down his raw throat, scrambling into his clothes and biting him all over, causing him to scream with fear and pain.

And then she appeared, so much bigger than all the rest. Frodo could have handled all the little ones, but now that she was here, Frodo just wanted to die.

She stood in the shadows, looking exactly as she did back when she was alive. Saliva dripped from her pincers and pooled on the floor and her body inhaled and exhaled, pulsating sickly. Frodo's jaws opened wide and he vomited on the floor, covering many of the small spiders with the thick reddish-brown stuff. The smell of it reached his nostrils and he gagged.

Shelob advanced towards him, her gigantic legs tapping eerily on the floor. Frodo wanted to run but he couldn't move and stood there petrified with his eyes glued on the spider. Shelob was coming closer now. All the small spiders stopped moving and turned to face her as if they were all saluting her. Closer now. So much closer. Frodo's eyes widened further and his mouth opened to scream.

And he did scream, long and loud, waking up the tranquil stillness of the hobbit hole. Frodo was awake now and as the scream died in his sore throat, he looked wildly around him and realized he was laying sprawled out on the wooden floor with his fist clutching his blanket, which was spilling off of the bed.

He calmed himself down and took in his surroundings. No spiders. No Shelob. It had been a dream and nothing more, and he had luckily woken up from it just in time. He must have been thrashing around in his sleep and finally tumbled off of the bed. His entire backside felt sore and he sat up very slowly.

"MR. FRODO!"

The bedroom burst open and Sam came in, armed with his sword. Dear faithful Sam, always coming to Frodo's rescue whenever he needed him. "Mr. Frodo? What is it?"

Frodo raised one of his hands weakly. "I'm here, Sam."

Sam's eyes widened in panic as he saw Frodo looking so disheveled and haphazard on the floor and he rushed to his side. "What happened, Mr. Frodo? I heard you scream and I came to see what's wrong!"

Frodo shook his head. He was shaking slightly and there was a frightened look in his wide eyes. "It's nothing, Sam. I just had a nightmare, that was all. I'm fine, I promise you."

But Sam was eyeing him with wariness and concern written all over his face. "It must have been though. I heard you screaming sir, and no hobbit should have a nightmare that would make him scream like that. Are you sure you're all right, Mr. Frodo?"

"Yes, Sam. Just a nightmare that frightened me. Go back to bed and get some sleep. I apologize for waking you up."

"No, Mr. Frodo, I don't mind. I just had to see what the matter was, you see."

Frodo smiled at his friend. He could always count on Sam. "Go and get some sleep, Sam lad. You don't need to worry about me."

Sam didn't want to leave when Frodo was in such a state. His trembling had stopped but he still looked disturbed by something. What in Middle-earth had he been dreaming about? Frodo had given him an order though and Sam obeyed. He left the door open as he left the room, just in case Frodo needed him. He dearly hoped he wouldn't be needed. He just wanted Frodo to have a good night's rest without further mishap.

Frodo slowly got to his feet and slowed down his breathing. It was all over now. He could go back to sleep and everything would be fine in the morning.

He bent down to pick up the half of his blanket that was on the floor. But as he was bending over, something over by his dresser caught his eye. He gasped and jumped slightly as he saw what it was. Not another one of those awful things. Could he ever get away from the spiders? He had to get some rest somehow and there was only one way to do it.

He left his room, walked down the hall, and knocked on Sam's bedroom door. It opened and Sam appeared.

"Sam?" Frodo asked. "May I sleep with you tonight?"

Well, that's the end. Feedback is appreciated and keeps the spiders at bay!