Disclaimer: AU Story. The fourth large LOTR fic! My word, not another, surely? The characters are not mine. The settings are not mine. The plot is, however, my creation. I hope you find this an enjoyable read.

Garden of the Moon--

What if Frodo and Sam were endangered before they met Faramir? What if Gollum's betrayal came sooner than expected? And who would save them from the peril then?

~ Chapter One ~

A single red light burned on the Morannon. Like a great eye watching them from afar. It seemed to pierce the darkness like a knife, through all boundaries. All it's concentration on them. Gollum would not lead the hobbits along the road but at its side, under cover of shadows. But the night was receding and the cold waxing moon was beginning to dim in the sky. Though Frodo and Sam often begged their guide to let them rest, he drove them onwards all night, until grey dawn began to slide out from behind the mountains.

"I can't go a step further," Frodo gasped. He staggered back and then dropped to his knees. Everything ached desperately.

"Alright, Mister Frodo," Sam answered, "Then we won't. Hoy, Gollum! We're stopping!" The creature turned and bared his teeth angrily.

"Hobbitses cannot stop yet," he snapped, "Still a long way to go. Long way yet."

"And we'll walk it when we're ready. We've got to rest." Rolling his eyes, Gollum came creeping back and squatted nearby, muttering under his breath. The hobbits wrapped their cloaks about themselves and huddled together on the dark bank. Around them, the barren rocky landscape was being lit by the cold frosty light of day and the black mountains reared up like soldiers on every side. But beyond the wasteland lay rolling hills, set about with charred pine trees and rotting logs. Tall heather swayed in fields before them and in the distance sat fallen pinnacles of rock. Even from here they could make out the silver gleam of water trickling among them.

"Mister Frodo," said Sam, "We'd do better if we were among that heather. We wouldn't be seen so easily and, well, it'd be nicer to lie on than rocks and hard ground." Frodo nodded, too weary to force words past his lips. Leaning on his friend, he waded into the wild meadow and then let the pack slip from his shoulders as he toppled forward into blessed sleep. Sam, however, found it difficult to close his eyes. He kept watching Gollum as he hurried back and forth, at times cradling something in his hands and at others seeming to be gnawing at his fingers, waiting impatiently. He never seemed to sleep. Sam kept a wary eye on him and stayed close to his master. It may have been his hunger that kept him awake as well. Though lembas was a fine meal, it was little compared to the bounty of the Shire. His stomach rumbled at the memory.

--

At evening, Sam woke Frodo and they struggled to their feet to start another journey. Though, this time, they did not begrudge the landscape. It was still dark but at least this they could see that it had once been beautiful.

"It's like worn metal, isn't it?" whispered Sam, "It used to be all shiny and now Mordor's gone and dulled it down."

"Yes. Dulling light with darkness. Well, come on, Sam, we must get moving. That is, if Gollum is still willing to lead us."

"Where is he? The devil! That Stinker's off hunting again, I'll be bound." Frodo glared at him.

"There's no need to call him names, Sam. He's held to his word this far hasn't he? We cannot think the worst of him."

"There's no *better* in him, Master! And...well, that's what he is. There's nothing left in him but deceit." Frodo felt angry at his friend's stupidity.

"You don't understand," he said. He lowered his tone, "And what would you know of it anyway?"

"What don't I understand? This is Gollum and more than likely he'll stab us in the back when we're asleep."

Frodo's temper, already taut, snapped.

"Is that what I'll do, Sam?" he shouted, "When the Ring takes me? I'll be nothing more than a- a Stinker to you? It's wonderful to know, Sam, that when the Dark Lord comes for me, my only friend in this wilderness believes there is nothing left in me but lies! You just don't understand what the Ring did to him. What it'll do to me!"

His last vicious word echoed tenfold and then died away. Sam was looking at the ground, his face red. Frodo had never spoken to him like this. He did not sound like Gollum. How could he ever be like that stinking creature? Could the Ring do that to his master?

"I'm sorry, Mister Frodo..." he mumbled, "I didn't mean to get you upset and all."

"What have I said?" said Frodo faintly. His eyes flicked from one side the other, his hands groped for unseen support. "Sam, I'm sorry...oh, forgive me, I can't even control my words anymore."

"Hobbitses! Hobbitses, come quickly!" came a voice from the undergrowth. Gollum bounded out from the heather and pranced around them delightedly. "Sleep well, did we? Good, good, now we go on. Master must go on into the garden. But it isn't safe yet. So must be cautious, precious, or the bad men find us..."

"Men?" cried Frodo, "Where, Sméagol? Are they near? Should we hide?"

"Oh, bad men go through everyday, Master. The Dark Lord is summoning his troops so they come. Must be swift, hobbits, swift as shadows."

They followed Gollum back to the road and trekked along it for hours. It cut through the hilly landscape, round the crumbling pillars and obelisks and over grey, winding streams. This was Ithilien, the Garden of the Moon. A shrunken magnificence. The trees were all withered and only the plants that grew among their humped roots flourished. At one point, they were crossing over a bridge, when they heard the thunder of feet in the distance.

"Sméagol?" Frodo ventured uncertainly. Gollum rose off his hind legs like a dog and sniffed at the air. He grimaced.

"Orcses, precious. Orcses moving to the Black Gate."

They moved away from the road, heading due south and into the depths of Ithilien. A sweet fragrant smell filled the air, of herbs and berries and of the fallen pine needles that carpeted the floor. Gollum passed this by with a look of intense dislike but the hobbits were reminded of the Shire. Sam felt a huge pang of homesickness and he realised just how much he missed the Gaffer and Rosie. But he fought against it. They did not need him getting all mawkish now. So he set his sights on the path ahead.

--

Gollum led them to a small dell that surrounded a glimmering pool. Broken stonework lay scattered about and the odd discarded helm and cuirass. They drank from the water gratefully as day began to stain the sky once more. The wind was beginning to pick up and it was bitterly cold, so they looked about once more for a hiding-place. Frodo felt as if there was another presence, watching them. Every crack of twig or flurry of leaves made him spin around in expectation of the Eye to come flying through the underbrush to engulf them. He shuddered and tried to press the thought from his mind. But so oblivious to where he was putting his feet, he tripped over something in his path and sprawled in the dust. Sam spun round.

"Mister Frodo, are you alright?"

"Fine, Sam. But...what on earth did I trip on?"

He glanced over his shoulder and recoiled in fright. A man's skull, with a few tattered strips of flesh still clinging to its bleached skin, leered up at him. All around them were bones, bits of charred armour, wads of burnt skin and other, even fouler things.

"We'll go higher up this hill," Sam said defiantly, trying desperately to drown out the terrible silence of those bones.

They struggled higher until they found a bracken-strewn ledge to rest on. There, they shed their packs and stretched out across the slab, gasping for breath. Above them, the sun, or what was accounted for a sun in this evil land, shed a murky light into Mordor and they slept uneasily. Even Gollum settled down amongst the fern and closed his eyes. All three of them were still; like mithril tokens scattered in the brush.

But they were woken by the pounding of drums.

~

A bit dark but I hope you will enjoy :-)