TITLE: The Rebellion Of Mordor: Chapter 1
AUTHOR: bunyip123
RATING: For people 12 and up
SUMMARY: Frodo and Sam continue their quest to Mordor, and Merry and Pippin find a vital weapon of the enemy.
"I am glad you are with me. Here, at the end of all things, Sam."
-Frodo Baggins, Return of the King
II
Pippin felt a fiery, burning sensation on his tongue. The feel of it was similar to that of acid; yet no physical damage was being done to him. He opened his eyes. As he spat out the vile liquid, he saw that he was propped against a mountainside, with Merry coughing next to him.
"Merry!" Pippin whispered. Merry opened his eyes and noted Pippin's presence.
"Yes?" he asked. He did not seem to be ill, showing no signs of weakness; or strain. Yet his voice seemed a bit forced. Pippin figured he had also been given the brew, whatever it was intended for. Pippin looked from side to side. He saw their Uruk-Hai captors, all talking and snapping and bellowing amongst themselves. 'No, they're of no use to us!' and, 'We've got our commands, scum!' Pippin suddenly realized that, along with Merry, his hands and legs were bound.
"Where…where are we?" Pippin asked. Merry looked around him.
"Well, a mountain, obviously." Merry said, having a sarcastic sound in his response. Pippin smirked and sat himself up straight.
"Why did they come here?" he asked. Merry thought for a moment, remembering what he could before he slept.
"They said they were to meet someone here." He said, remembering the harsh voices. An Uruk-Hai standing next to him leaned in and snarled,
"You're not here to talk!" as he dug a scimitar into the ground in front of Merry. Merry gulped nervously and tried to make himself as far from the blade as possible. Pippin shifted and tried as hard as he could do break the ropes around his wrists and ankles. He then looked to the scimitar.
"Merry! Grab the sword!" he said. Merry nodded and reached, but his binds were making it difficult to grasp anything, let alone pull a sword out of a rock. He was able to get his fingers around the hilt. He pulled, and pulled…
Suddenly, a screeching sound filled the hobbit's ears. It sounded large, almost as large as the Balrog of Morgoth. Pippin and Merry screamed, trying to break free, as to block their ears. But, to no avail. They suffered the sound. A great whooshing sound accompanied the screeching, and a loud thump ended both. Merry looked front of him. His eyes widened as he shook Pippin's shoulder.
What was before them was an enormous monster. It had gray, rough skin, giant leathery wings, two hind legs; yet no front legs, a long neck and tail, and a serpent-like head filled with sharp fangs. Its yellow eyes seemed to darken with every breath. On its back, was a black-cloaked figure wearing a demonic helmet. The figure did not seem to be breathing, but how could it be so? Could something dead still live? Merry then came to a realization.
"Pippin, dear lord, it's a black rider!" Merry screamed, obvious shock in his tone. "A wraith!" Pippin looked at the figure in pure fear and awe. It climbed down from its monster and came to the Uruk-Hai. Compared to the height of the Uruk-Hai, the wraith looked like as if it must have been, at the very most, eight feet tall. In his hand, there was a great black sword, its blade wreathed in transparent flame. It's raspy, empty voice then spoke.
"Why be you here, at this place? Isengard is your destination." It stated, showing no signs of emotion. It stood at its place, no more still than a statue. The sheath for its sword was of the blackest metal, for no glint; nor shine could have come from its surface.
One of the Uruk-Hai, the largest of them, came to the wraith and bowed before it.
"Forgive us, sire. We knew not where Isengrad lay, so we must get to the summit." It explained in its gruff voice. Again, other than its voice, the wraith showed no response.
"It lies to the South. Now go." The wraith snapped. It sheathed its sword and climbed back onto the fell beast. Before another sound was made, small footsteps were heard, coming down the trail.
"Oui! What're doin' with Merry and Pippin?!" It was Sam. In his hand was his dagger at the ready.
"Sam! Run!" Pippin warned. But, before anything else was permitted to happen, the monster screeched again. The hobbits screamed. Sam knelt to the ground and covered his ears. As he did so, the blade dropped from his grasp. He was vulnerable.
"What's he doin' here?!" An Uruk-Hai snapped. "Give me the rope!" At this command, one of the smaller Uruk-Hai fetched rope from the trail and threw it to the commander. The Uruk-Hai commander grabbed the rope, and ran to Sam. He bound his hands and feet. "Quit your squealin'!"
Sam could not break free. He was too tightly bound. As the screeching stopped, the Uruk-Hai untied the hobbit's feet, but not their hands.
"Fetch the medicine!" one of the Uruk-Hai yelled. One tossed a small damp pouch to him. He then poured dark red liquid. After having it poured into his throat, Pippin realized that this was the acid-like liquid he had tasted before.
"Sam! Where's Frodo?!" Merry yelled to Sam, over the bustling rough voices of the Uruk-Hai.
"I saw him break his fall!" Sam yelled back. Pippin flinched.
"He fell? Where?" Sam sighed.
"Off the peak, but he's still on the mountain, and alive!" Sam answered. Then, he remembered something. Frodo had nothing to eat; or drink.
"I pray for his safety." Merry said. One of the Uruk-Hai came to the three hobbits. He had a whip ion his hand, covered in blood.
"Start running, scum!" he barked, black spit and blood coming from his mouth. The hobbits got to their feet. They had no other choice. They would have to run to Isengard.
"Sam, are you sure Frodo's alive?" Merry whispered. Pippin looked to Sam nervously. Sam felt a tear roll down his cheek.
"God help him." He said, and with that, they ran.