Title: Under Dark Clouds
Notes: It's a Frodo/Sam ficcy! My first ever! Finally finished reading all the books and got inspired to write about those silly little hobbits. Nothing more really to say, except for that this chapter is basically just developing stuff: characters, relationship, whatever. No action yet. Hehehe. Hope you like!
Warning: SLASH! If you don't know what slash is, it's boyxboy, yaoi, all that other stuff. In other words, gay-ness. If you still don't understand, don't read this. Or if you don't like that stuff, don't read this. Or if you don't like Frodo/Sam. No flames for slash please! And I suppose it's AU, just because the dialogue is a little switched. Some things that Sam's supposed to say Frodo says, etc. And AU for slash.
Disclaimer: Please. Do you really need to hear me say it? Fine, I don't own any characters or basically anything from Lord of the Rings. All that stuff belongs to other people. Not me. Thanks for reminding me.
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Chapter 1: Belief
Frodo looked out on the fiercely uninviting landscape. His eyes panned sharp black mountains, like huge dark soldiers waiting threateningly in their lines. The frowning peaks dared him to come close, to try and break their ranks. The range was endless, an unbroken perimeter of the savage territory where he had found himself of late. Frodo wondered by the devising of what higher power he had been allowed to pass those hopeless cliffs. Truthfully, the Mountains of Shadow were made not as much to keep others out, as to imprison the slaves of Sauron inside. Nevertheless, it was still a fantastic accomplishment to pass through those mountains. Fantastic, in the sense that it was a massive achievement for the Ring-bearer and his friend.
At this Frodo wondered. Was it in fact an achievement?
'Well, of course it was an achievement, though I should not think I will get an award and a cheering crowd for it,' he thought to himself. 'But not an achievement in that I would feel glad at the results. For I don't, not in the slightest. And therefore it is an achievement that I had to accomplish, not one that I wanted to," Frodo reasoned.
He had known this all along, in fact. He merely liked to run things through his mind, so he could be sure they were right. But he had known since the Shire that no one expected him to complete the journey to destroy the One Ring because of his bravery, knowledge, or other talents. For of these he had very little, at least in comparison to the elves or men that had valor and wisdom.
Instead, the reason for Frodo to complete this mission was because he had to. It was his duty, his task, his overwhelming burden. As Galadriel had put it, when he visited her in Lothl—rien what seemed like decades ago, "If you do not find a way, no one will". And this lonely task was rising to the front of his mind, weighing him downÐit had been ever since L—rien. All of those around him had been starting to see that before he and Sam departed secretly. And here, in the obscurity of Mordor, Frodo was beginning to feel himself slipping into shadow. His duty, his task...
He turned around and began to walk back to the burrow-like shelter he and Sam had found to rest for a while. Actually, Frodo hadn't helped at all in finding the burrow; Sam had discovered it. Sam had been unofficially put in charge of any physical or mental labor that had to be done to keep the two alive in this place. Frodo just wasn't capable of doing any work in his weakened state. It pained Frodo deeply to see his utterly devoted friend loading up with extra gear or searching for a hiding place from orcs all by himself. After all, Sam was going through similar psychological torment from being in this region, so near to the Dark Power.
But Sam was not really weakened, Frodo thought as he observed him day after day. In fact, the strenuous journey and immense pressure seemed to make Sam perform better. He was physically stronger, easy for anyone to see from his outside appearance. But Frodo sensed a mental change in Sam as well, a snap in his nature and personality. Sam was wiser, quicker, and more animated. Frodo loved and respected this change, this growth in Sam.
Sam was the only one who believed in him. It seemed to Frodo that Sam was the only person who thought that he had enough strength and intelligence to get into Mordor and destroy the Ring. Sam respected and believed in him so much that it overwhelmed Frodo.
As he walked back through a thicket of sharp, dry scrub to their den he thought of Sam's endless generosity and care for him. His gardener-turned-comrade had become the dearest person in his life, and after all that they had been through together, this was expected. And Sam seemed to have an infinite supply of good cheer and calm words for his beloved Mr. Frodo. Frodo truly could not have gotten to this point without him.
Frodo reached the hollow and sat down on a flat, dusty rock a few feet away from Sam, who was sleeping on his side. Frodo watched Sam's brown curls fly up and away from his forehead and then settle back down around his face whenever a light breeze passed by. His expression was one of satisfaction, and Frodo guessed that he was dreaming of the days back in the Shire.
Frodo often dreamed of the Shire as well; or he had, at least, before he started having nightmares about flames, torment, blackness and death. During those nights Frodo would wake up, frightened and panting, shaking with heat and cold at the same time. In a matter of seconds or less, Sam would be by his side, cradling him in his arms, comforting him.
Frodo looked at Sam's kind face and sighed. How had such a pleasant, well-meaning hobbit ended up in this awful place? He felt terrible for dragging him in here. On the other hand, he had hardly been able to leave him behind. Sam's devotion to his master was unbreakable.
Frodo continued to watch Sam, the gardener's chest moving up and down as he breathed, his rough hands positioned under his head as a pillow. His light brown curls flying in the slight wind. Frodo gazed at Sam for quite some time before his mind suddenly rushed back to reality and he wondered why he was doing so. His eyes focused, he shook his head and he stood up quickly, making himself dizzy. He rushed to the side of the cave to support himself in his hazy condition. Sam's eyelids twitched suddenly, then opened as he rolled up to a sitting position.
"What's the matter, Mr. Frodo? Somethin' wrong?" he asked, quickly changing state from groggy to fully alert.
"No, Sam. Everything's fine. It's fine. I was just...surprised," replied Frodo.
"What were you scrambling about for, then?" Sam inquired.
"I....I was just....I hope I didn't wake you," Frodo changed the subject quickly as Sam began to get up.
"Naw, Mr. Frodo, it's time we got on again anyway. Are you feelin' alright?" Sam asked this question of Frodo every day.
"Fine, Sam," Frodo answered. In fact, Frodo was feeling cold, thirsty, and confused. He was still wondering about his long gaze at Sam, but wasn't soon going to ask him about it. Instead, he put on his light pack and guiltily watched Sam putting on his bulging one. Impulsively he reached out his hand and pushed the pack back down to the ground. Sam looked at him quizzically.
"Perhaps we should leave some of this gear behind, Sam," Frodo answered Sam's silent question. "We--we shan't need it where we are going. Leave some behind."
Sam nodded. "You're right, Mr. Frodo. I daresay we won't need it." Sam said this sadly, dreading both the fatal road ahead and the thought of leaving behind his precious cooking supplies, which he had grown quite attached to.
Both of the hobbits knelt and began to pull items out of the pack. Frodo let Sam decide whether or not to bring his cooking supplies, and felt sad for him when he saw Sam place his pots on the ground behind him.
Then, both of the hobbits reached for a small scrap of dirty, ripped cloth, which perhaps used to be some kind of facecloth. Their hands touched slightly and Frodo felt the cold soreness in his hands be overtaken by a pleasant, but shocking, warmth spreading from the spot where Sam's hand had touched his. Surprised greatly, Frodo's eyes widened and he stopped unpacking and stood still. Sam noticed the pause beside him and turned to Frodo.
"What's the matter, Mr. Frodo?" Sam asked for the second time today. "Did you hurt yourself? Why've you stopped?"
Frodo looked straight at Sam and could see no sign of him feeling anything like he had. "No reason, Sam. I'm just weary, I suppose," he replied gloomily.
"Weary? But the day's just started!" laughed Sam. "Here, I've got something that will hearten you. Lembas bread!" He took some out of the pack and took off the leaf wrapping.
"Oh, no, Sam. I've eaten too much already. That's your share," exclaimed Frodo.
"Go on. Take it! I don't need it," Sam countered.
"Oh, Sam, no," Frodo resisted. At that Sam looked so disappointed that Frodo could do nothing but relent to Sam's will.
"All right, fine. I'll eat it, since you want me to." Frodo took the dry bread while Sam leaned back and watched. It usually made Frodo uncomfortable to eat right in front of others, but with Sam he had already done so so many times, it didn't matter anymore.
After Frodo had finished, the two put on their lightened packs and set off through the dead thicket. They came to the roadside and turned to the right, continuing where they had left off last night.
Ahead of them they could see the harsh landscape, including Orodruin, the fiery mountain, which was spewing out flames and black clouds high above the ground. Mt. Doom, their dismal destination, the place they had been heading for for days, silently hoping never to get there. The friends walked side by side, both minds filled only with thoughts of moving on deeper into the harsh land, under the shadow of Mordor.
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First chapter done. Pretty short I guess. Like? Or not? Whichever, I want to know all about it. So press the pretty blue button and give me criticism/praise/whatever. Next chappie most likely coming soon, as I am very hyper from eating a whole carton of B&J's ice cream. So, see you round! Love ya!