Author's Note : *giggles*. If I told you that, Melody, I'd be giving away the story! Okay, Okay…I'll give you a couple of tidbits to chew on…
*Legolas hates Orcs because of what happened that Midsummer Night, and -he- is the Prince she was going to be betrothed to. Even though she was a brat, he had a soft spot for her. He searched for her high and low, and never found her because she had been taken from the land she originally was captured in. He still searches for her, but is distracted by the Fellowship ATM. Will Frodo tell him about her? Will Frodo Remember her? Will Legolas be able to love her when he sees what has happened to her? Will she let him see what has happened to her? Will she run away? Will she live? I haven't written those chapters yet…tee hee. *
This story eventually is going to end up on an uplifting…yet heart-wrenching note. I'm not really sure yet how many chapters it will be. It depends on the reviews, and what people are interested in seeing. If you think I haven't pulled your heart out yet…I've got a trick or two up my sleeve.
Our favorite halfling still has to get recaptured…you know…cause Sam saves him in RTOK. Hm…but maybe…things will be different. This is a fanfic…Will he make it out of the Tower on his own? Anything can happen!
Keep in mind : Frodo is suffering from the following 1) He's still feeling the effects of the alchohol, its numbing his senses, 2.) He's desperate to get back to the Ring (gollum syndrome), 3.) He's still sick; no food for a couple of days, fever, and well…he's already been tortured TWICE. He's got open wounds that haven't been stitched yet….some bandaged…
An…FYI…This chapter may get a little rough. The Mean ol' Orcs are hunting for Frodo. And Orcs when they're mean…are … not nice? ===: )
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CHAPTER TWELVE -- The Eyes of the Tower
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I blinked a few times…I had nearly smacked into the wall on the way down, but I had made it…no broken bones…Thank Elbereth. I winced and glanced down at my side…the gash there was bleeding a little, and my back was hurting. I reached back with one of my hand and felt the warm blood from a weal. I had to find something to wrap my chest in. I looked around, rising to my feet unsteadily. The stone was cold…and damp. Mold clung to the black walls of the room I had landed in, It was lit only by flickering torchlight...and a red glare from the outside. There was a door at the far end of the room, slightly ajar.
I saw a cot on the edge of the room, that had a dirty sheet pulled over it. It had likely been there for a very long time…it would have to do. I stumbled over to it, holding my side. I shook the dust out of it and sighed at the old holes. I had a fleeting memory of Bag-end…my crispy clean sheets…the scent of flowers in the springtime, and I coughed at the dust. The holes at least, made it easy for me to rip it into a few shreds. I quickly wrapped one around my chest and side as tightly as I could manage. Then I struggled into the coat. It smelled awful, but I wasn't about to walk around naked. I winced because I had not been able to clean anything. They would get infected, I was fairly sure. Maybe…maybe I'd find some water. My mind clung to that thought as I steeled myself to rise.
With my most grievous wound bound at least as best as it could be, and a coat around me I could move on. I ventured towards the door, staggering to a halt against the wall and peering into the corridor beyond. There were no guards, and the door leading to the staircase was open. I noticed then that there were a few different ways I could go, more than one staircase, more than one prison. Orcs could not have thought of such a scheme I thought to myself for a moment. Then I heard someone coming up the stairs at the far end and ducked into a turret, praying. As silent as I could possibly be I watched Karkosh shamble past. In his hand he carried a moldy looking loaf of …well…bread perhaps. I grimaced…and barely managed to surpress a cough.
The sound attracted the huge creature and it glanced back, with a "Hm? Who's there?" The Orc was chewing on something…meat perhaps. Something that smelt fouler than his coat. I didn't dare breathe, holding my hand to my mouth in panic. Then…luck was with me…a trio of rats scurried across the hall and clamored into a hole in the wall. The Orc laughed., a brittle echo that made me cringe. He moved back down the hall.
I quickly made my way towards the opposite staircase, I knew that more Orcs would be down the one he had come up. I had to stop and catch my breath. Behind me, I heard a scream…and a crash. I paled…Merilas….I couldn't go back. I froze for almost a minute not sure what to do. Then it dawned on me…the scream had been the scream of the Orc…not of the elf. I knew it would draw others though and managed to will my courage into place. Gandalf would want me to be strong. I had to be. I had to get out of here.
The stairs were huge…I was having trouble descending them quickly, but I did my absolute best. My only companions in this particular stairwell were a curious rat or two, and behind doors…perhaps prisoners more miserable than I. It was very dark…there were no torches that lit these stairs that seemed to go down forever. They were lit by the fires from outside. A red glowing flame that made the small windows look like eyes. I shuddered, and huddled in the cloak. I stumbled once, slipping on the wet stone…and fell several feet before I was able to steady myself.
I sat there for a moment, my head reeling, clutching my side in pain. What I wouldn't give for my feather beds right now…a warm cup of tea…some of Sam's taters…my beautiful garden. I missed the Shire terribly at that moment. I lay there against the stairs, breathing heavily, the only thing holding me up was one very weak hand. *Go on…Frodo.* I almost heard Aragorn's voice for a moment. *You are strong enough, I know you are.* I didn't want to…I was tired…in pain…and dizzy from my second fall of the night. If I didn't move now, I'd stay where I was…and eventually they'd find me.
A rat was making its way towards me, they were big ones in this particular tower, and I almost thought they were more than just rats, remembering Saruman's birds. They were attracted to a small pool of blood that was building underneath me. I tightened my bandages, and wrapped another one around. That seemed to stop the bleeding. Before more rats took an interest in me, I pushed myself to my feet and stumbled against the wall for a moment.
I continued downward…into the darkness of the stairwell when I heard a sound that I had been dreading. The clanking of chain mail and armor coming down my way. I looked around wildly…I had to find a place to hide. I tried one door…locked…then another…and rushed down to a third, panicked. If they found me…
I pushed myself hard against the third door and nearly fell into the room. I picked myself up as quickly as I could and shut the door, listening. I took a quick glance about the room…it was empty…but…There was a half full water basin on a rickety table., it was full because water was seeping into it from the damp walls of the tower. I thanked Elbereth. It may not be the freshest..or the cleanest…but I could clean my side with it, and maybe it would help.
The Orcs were checking the rooms…I heard them wrenching open doors. Then I heard voices. They would come here too…I looked around and found a pile of very…rotten clothing I made a leap for the pile, and scrambled under it. I held my breath…because I knew that if I breathed at all…I would definitely wretch.
"He's Been here. Little Rat. Look…blood." I heard a voice outside. They opened the door and came into the room.
"Did the Slave know anything…which staircase he took?"
"She said he killed the Orc guard and threatened to kill her. He was stronger than he looked."
"Feh." the other laughed, "Just a halfling." he walked over towards the pile of clothes and I could almost see his feet. He poked at the pile with his sword…narrowly missing me. I continued to hold my breath in terror, trying very hard not to shake. "He's not here. He's probably on one of the lower levels by now. Lets go tell Shagrat."
The Orc sheathed his sword and the group lumbered down the staircase. When I was sure they were gone I flung the clothes away from me and gasped for breathe. I was safe…for the moment.
* * *
*Legolas hates Orcs because of what happened that Midsummer Night, and -he- is the Prince she was going to be betrothed to. Even though she was a brat, he had a soft spot for her. He searched for her high and low, and never found her because she had been taken from the land she originally was captured in. He still searches for her, but is distracted by the Fellowship ATM. Will Frodo tell him about her? Will Frodo Remember her? Will Legolas be able to love her when he sees what has happened to her? Will she let him see what has happened to her? Will she run away? Will she live? I haven't written those chapters yet…tee hee. *
This story eventually is going to end up on an uplifting…yet heart-wrenching note. I'm not really sure yet how many chapters it will be. It depends on the reviews, and what people are interested in seeing. If you think I haven't pulled your heart out yet…I've got a trick or two up my sleeve.
Our favorite halfling still has to get recaptured…you know…cause Sam saves him in RTOK. Hm…but maybe…things will be different. This is a fanfic…Will he make it out of the Tower on his own? Anything can happen!
Keep in mind : Frodo is suffering from the following 1) He's still feeling the effects of the alchohol, its numbing his senses, 2.) He's desperate to get back to the Ring (gollum syndrome), 3.) He's still sick; no food for a couple of days, fever, and well…he's already been tortured TWICE. He's got open wounds that haven't been stitched yet….some bandaged…
An…FYI…This chapter may get a little rough. The Mean ol' Orcs are hunting for Frodo. And Orcs when they're mean…are … not nice? ===: )
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER TWELVE -- The Eyes of the Tower
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I blinked a few times…I had nearly smacked into the wall on the way down, but I had made it…no broken bones…Thank Elbereth. I winced and glanced down at my side…the gash there was bleeding a little, and my back was hurting. I reached back with one of my hand and felt the warm blood from a weal. I had to find something to wrap my chest in. I looked around, rising to my feet unsteadily. The stone was cold…and damp. Mold clung to the black walls of the room I had landed in, It was lit only by flickering torchlight...and a red glare from the outside. There was a door at the far end of the room, slightly ajar.
I saw a cot on the edge of the room, that had a dirty sheet pulled over it. It had likely been there for a very long time…it would have to do. I stumbled over to it, holding my side. I shook the dust out of it and sighed at the old holes. I had a fleeting memory of Bag-end…my crispy clean sheets…the scent of flowers in the springtime, and I coughed at the dust. The holes at least, made it easy for me to rip it into a few shreds. I quickly wrapped one around my chest and side as tightly as I could manage. Then I struggled into the coat. It smelled awful, but I wasn't about to walk around naked. I winced because I had not been able to clean anything. They would get infected, I was fairly sure. Maybe…maybe I'd find some water. My mind clung to that thought as I steeled myself to rise.
With my most grievous wound bound at least as best as it could be, and a coat around me I could move on. I ventured towards the door, staggering to a halt against the wall and peering into the corridor beyond. There were no guards, and the door leading to the staircase was open. I noticed then that there were a few different ways I could go, more than one staircase, more than one prison. Orcs could not have thought of such a scheme I thought to myself for a moment. Then I heard someone coming up the stairs at the far end and ducked into a turret, praying. As silent as I could possibly be I watched Karkosh shamble past. In his hand he carried a moldy looking loaf of …well…bread perhaps. I grimaced…and barely managed to surpress a cough.
The sound attracted the huge creature and it glanced back, with a "Hm? Who's there?" The Orc was chewing on something…meat perhaps. Something that smelt fouler than his coat. I didn't dare breathe, holding my hand to my mouth in panic. Then…luck was with me…a trio of rats scurried across the hall and clamored into a hole in the wall. The Orc laughed., a brittle echo that made me cringe. He moved back down the hall.
I quickly made my way towards the opposite staircase, I knew that more Orcs would be down the one he had come up. I had to stop and catch my breath. Behind me, I heard a scream…and a crash. I paled…Merilas….I couldn't go back. I froze for almost a minute not sure what to do. Then it dawned on me…the scream had been the scream of the Orc…not of the elf. I knew it would draw others though and managed to will my courage into place. Gandalf would want me to be strong. I had to be. I had to get out of here.
The stairs were huge…I was having trouble descending them quickly, but I did my absolute best. My only companions in this particular stairwell were a curious rat or two, and behind doors…perhaps prisoners more miserable than I. It was very dark…there were no torches that lit these stairs that seemed to go down forever. They were lit by the fires from outside. A red glowing flame that made the small windows look like eyes. I shuddered, and huddled in the cloak. I stumbled once, slipping on the wet stone…and fell several feet before I was able to steady myself.
I sat there for a moment, my head reeling, clutching my side in pain. What I wouldn't give for my feather beds right now…a warm cup of tea…some of Sam's taters…my beautiful garden. I missed the Shire terribly at that moment. I lay there against the stairs, breathing heavily, the only thing holding me up was one very weak hand. *Go on…Frodo.* I almost heard Aragorn's voice for a moment. *You are strong enough, I know you are.* I didn't want to…I was tired…in pain…and dizzy from my second fall of the night. If I didn't move now, I'd stay where I was…and eventually they'd find me.
A rat was making its way towards me, they were big ones in this particular tower, and I almost thought they were more than just rats, remembering Saruman's birds. They were attracted to a small pool of blood that was building underneath me. I tightened my bandages, and wrapped another one around. That seemed to stop the bleeding. Before more rats took an interest in me, I pushed myself to my feet and stumbled against the wall for a moment.
I continued downward…into the darkness of the stairwell when I heard a sound that I had been dreading. The clanking of chain mail and armor coming down my way. I looked around wildly…I had to find a place to hide. I tried one door…locked…then another…and rushed down to a third, panicked. If they found me…
I pushed myself hard against the third door and nearly fell into the room. I picked myself up as quickly as I could and shut the door, listening. I took a quick glance about the room…it was empty…but…There was a half full water basin on a rickety table., it was full because water was seeping into it from the damp walls of the tower. I thanked Elbereth. It may not be the freshest..or the cleanest…but I could clean my side with it, and maybe it would help.
The Orcs were checking the rooms…I heard them wrenching open doors. Then I heard voices. They would come here too…I looked around and found a pile of very…rotten clothing I made a leap for the pile, and scrambled under it. I held my breath…because I knew that if I breathed at all…I would definitely wretch.
"He's Been here. Little Rat. Look…blood." I heard a voice outside. They opened the door and came into the room.
"Did the Slave know anything…which staircase he took?"
"She said he killed the Orc guard and threatened to kill her. He was stronger than he looked."
"Feh." the other laughed, "Just a halfling." he walked over towards the pile of clothes and I could almost see his feet. He poked at the pile with his sword…narrowly missing me. I continued to hold my breath in terror, trying very hard not to shake. "He's not here. He's probably on one of the lower levels by now. Lets go tell Shagrat."
The Orc sheathed his sword and the group lumbered down the staircase. When I was sure they were gone I flung the clothes away from me and gasped for breathe. I was safe…for the moment.
* * *