Oh no... No! No! No!
I've brought vampires and hobbits together- wait no... I've brought vampires and Lord of the Rings together! (I have to be honest with you, I feel a little sick right now)
For those of you who have come on this fic thinking 'What the fuck is this?'
I don't know.
I came across a Lord of the Rings vampire fic some time ago, and I thought 'You know what... I might just try and make it work'
Well, I've definately tried my hardest so tell me what you think I beg of you- I've tried to stray away from the new commerical vampires, [God damn, I hate all this vampire obsessiveness- Ever since Twilight, which, in my opinion... aint all that]
Before I STFU and GTFO so you can read this shit, tell me via reviews- Do you think this should be a slash? (Sam/Frodo that would be) But then the whole story would be romantically orientated, or do you think I should just base this around the vampire stuff... as that shit seems to be quite a big issue in this.
Or maybe two different stories? It would leave me with something to do I suppose even if I'm not so good at it.
Okay, here we go...
'Sam, I am awfully sorry I've kept you for so long'
'That's no fault o' yours, Mr Frodo. It's by my own doing I'm here at this hour, there's work t' do an' I don't get tired too often' Sam admitted, clearing up the last of a spilt tumbler of cordial.
'I do enjoy your company, Sam. But that's no reason for me to keep you so long,'
'I don't want to keep telling you sir, but I don't mind being 'ere'
'If you say so, Sam. But if I ever keep you talking too long, be sure to tell me, it's just since...' Frodo stopped and sighed, an expression of slight pain flickering across his porcelain face, 'Since Bilbo left, Bag end feels rather empty' Frodo cast his gaze to the floor, 'Rather too empty' He mumbled to himself in a low tone he assumed Sam could not hear,
'Sir, I don't mind keeping you company, after all Bag End was never made for only one hobbit' Sam reminded him, 'Now I think you should stop thinkin' about Bilbo, Sir. You should be gettin' some sleep at this time o' night' Said Sam softly, his house work almost complete,
'As much as I would love to, sleep is not was I need right now. I think a slow walk around the Shire would calm my feelings'; a little walk around the Shire was usually the answer to Frodo's problems, whatever the time, no matter. It allowed the hobbit to observe, to think, to contemplate and to drive thoughts from his mind.
'Mr Frodo... I'm not sure that's wise'
'Samwize, you know I am not a stupid hobbit. I wouldn't allow anyone to stalk near me at such an hour, anyway, who would want to come near the mad Frodo Baggins?' Frodo asked rhetorically, smiling slyly as he knew Sam despised Frodo being named 'Mad'
'Now, Frodo, you shouldn't say such things, and what of the weather? It's snowing a'least a foot deep out there, ner'mind the ice! You could slip and break a bone or maybe even freeze to death!' The worry was evident in Sam's voice and he even gave out a visible shudder at the thought of Frodo getting hurt,
'I shall be fine, my cloaks the warmest you could possibly find, now stop fretting, I sharn't be out an hour and wouldn't like to leave my walk till any longer.'
'Sorry, sir.' Sam admitted quite openly, 'I just worry is all, have fun, Mr Frodo'
'I shall' Frodo said with a chuckle, 'I don't expect you to be here when I come back, you should go home, Samwize, get some rest. You're not the only hobbit allowed to worry about a friend'
Sam smiled, his cheeks turning slightly pink,
'Take care of yourself, Sir'
'I shall, Sam' Frodo strode over to the coat pegs, taking the thickest wool cloak off the peg, he set it aside while buttoning his fine weskit – though it was completely unnecessary as it added no warmth to his person,
'Thank you, Sam' Frodo muttered, as he swung the alarming green door open, 'I shall see you tomorrow morning, but be sure to give yourself a lie in, this night has been a long.'
'I can't promise you'll see me late, Sir' Sam smiled, persistent as he was, Frodo could not complain, as loyal and good as he was a worker he had the same strengths as a friend, though Frodo often feared of this hobbit's vulnerability and at times Sam seemed not to realised how much he meant to Frodo.
'Goodbye, Samwize' Frodo spoke, though it almost seemed as if he was saying it to himself,
'Bye, Sir' Sam said quite hurriedly as Frodo was already swinging the door of the hobbit hole shut.
Frodo did not intend to make his was brief, a lot strayed Frodo's thoughts when he would prefer to think straight. Hobbits seldom came out at these early hours, which made it best for Frodo to contemplate, a dark stream or great tree was only best embraced in the hours of which people didn't care for. These were what Frodo liked to call the empty hours where not a hobbit could be seen outside in the Shire.
But at this night, Frodo's thoughts strayed deeper. A haze on his path made his eyelids feel heavy when sleep was never his intent, something lurked in the shadows looking for some venerable being, Sam might be a perfect victim but Frodo was a strong hobbit with a strong mind and he wasn't to fall for such trickery. If this was what was to stray Frodo's thoughts from where they shouldn't be, then so be it, Frodo welcomed this than the awful hint of dread plunging into his stomach whenever his thoughts lingered to the chest in which Bilbo's gift to him lived. A plain piece of jewellery is all Frodo was frightened of, such cowardly thinking.
Frodo moved on to a part of Hobbiton where the Snow flaked tree's made a thick white canopy above his head and the roads where particularly hilly, making it hard for a Hobbit's feet to withstand the thin layer of glassy ice, it's shine barely visible as the tree's protected the moons dull light.
Though Frodo would not let this hinder his journey, he longed to see the stars that were not completely cloud hidden through the trees, where the magic of the elven stories his uncle always read to him as a child almost became fact.
He stopped; it would appear his feet frozen to the ground (or more likely the sea of ice plaguing the roads), there wasn't the sound of the wind humming through the trees or ice falling from a stray branch and an odd feeling filled the hobbit, in the seemingly empty and silent road an ancient evil lurked.
An evil unheard of for many a generation of man or elf, and to the Shire they had flocked, only two, Servants of the dark lord with a will of their own.
Frodo didn't realise at first, why he stopped, why the feeling had been brought upon him until he realised there had been a fell voice of song in the air, singing words he had never heard and never longed to learn,
'Through canopies of dark
To sing a dark lullaby,
To sleep, the lulled are hindered,
For centuries roaming have we strayed,
For the torch to be once again relight,
Amongst burning lands we strived,
Where beings were turned to fiend,
For crumbling ruins we reside,
But in the dark we shall once again rise,
Where beings stir we capsule light,
Be it in dreams or illness we were plagued,
None are greater than those that are not bound to die,
Where majestic elves lie before our time,
Behold before, they are inferior,
They are to be at their own weakness,
Lengthy nights, at darkness order,
Be lulled and calm and bewildered,
An innocent traveller on a path to nothing,
Shall now rise above all other race,
Condemn any other curse,
A race of superior.'
There were skinny steely fingers at Frodo's neck, as the presence behind him brushed stray hairs aside. Frodo dare not utter a word or run forward away from the presence as a dark hooded figure now loomed before him, taller than any man he might imagine, the voice still singing in his ear, forcing him to shudder as the voice cut through him.
He noticed what the assumed was the evil bore no weapon, this did not calm Frodo has his mind lingered on what horror a creature must have no have no threat of weapon, yet still manage to hold a hobbits fright in their palm.
They were soundless and their decision ultimate and unchangeable.
A pain shot down the hobbits veins. Every inch of Frodo ached with a sudden unbearable pain, crippling him so he was face to face with the ice on the floor.
Frodo made no sound, as his breath was lost in pain, the song was over. There was no singing to lull the hobbit to distraction from the pain.
It was brief, the pain lingered while the travellers strode over the body as if it were nothing, a cry for help would be meaningless as no good would hear him or would dare to save him.
And, as he noticed the blood trailing from his neck down his shirt, he was certain we was going to die.