TITLE: Dance on a Volcano
AUTHOR: Sanguinary
COPYRIGHT: June 23, 2002
DISTRIBUTION: Want? Ask. Otherwise, expect to find a vampire hobbit clinging off your ankles.
RATING: PG 13
CATEGORY: Horror, Vampires, some slashy subtext
SERIES: Barren
SPOILERS: Return of the King
DISCLAIMER: Everything in the LotRverse not mine.
FEEDBACK: Spawns more vamp!Hobbits: Sanguinary_515@hotmail.com
SUMMARY: Sam and Frodo at the lip of Mount Doom. But destroying the Ring may be the easier task
to complete.
~
The heat is stronger than Sam would have ever imagined it to be. It weighs heavily down on him,
pressing his body into the dead earth. If he were not a vampire, he would not have the strength
to pull both himself and Frodo up the mountain. And even with his newly gained strength, he is
bone tired and about three steps away from total collapse. But the lip of the mountain is within
his reach now.
Frodo lies on Sam's back, motionless. The gentle thumping noise and slow breaths are the only
indication that Frodo is not dead. The poor Hobbit is deep in sleep, so deep that he didn't
even try to pull away from Sam's touch. This worried Sam intensely and he would rest if he
didn't know that it wouldn't do any good.
The quest must be completed. And when it is, Sam will lie down next to Frodo's cold body and
they'll both sleep for eternity.
Finally, he steps on the lip of the volcano. His legs are shaking badly but he manages three
more steps before he collapses. Sam lies on the ground, unable to move a muscle. Presently, he
remembers Frodo and he gently rolls the too-light Hobbit off his back. Frodo is still asleep,
his hand clutching the One Ring. The heartbeat has slowed since they started up the mountain
and his breathing is almost non-existent.
Frodo's dying. And Sam's starving. He hasn't eaten a bit since they left that Orc army and Sam
managed to take one or two mouthfuls from one of the fallen beasts. It burned his insides but
the horrible blood had given him the strength to carry on until this point. Now his body called
for fresh blood. And the only source was Frodo.
Sam shook Frodo gently, willing him to wake from his sleep. It seemed like forever before he
opened his eyes and stared up at Sam. His face and eyes were pale, like they had been when he
was suffering from the Mogul blade. "Mr. Frodo." Sam said hoarsely, "We're here Mr. Frodo.
You've got to throw the Ring into the fires."
Even though he was still aching all over, Sam helped Frodo stand and together, the two Hobbits
limped towards the abyss. The molten metal churned below them in eager anticipation, glowing
with an unearthly light. Sam looked at the Ring and saw it glow with the same unearthly light.
It had returned to its birthplace.
Frodo lifted a hand to the ring and slipped the chain over his head. He held it above the
burning heat. "Sam..." He said quietly, "I came here to destroy the Ring. But I can't.
I can't..." Frodo gripped the chain tightly and tears streamed down his sooty face.
Sam reached for Frodo's hand and pried the chain out of it. A sudden strange light lit inside
of Frodo, "Give to me! It's mine!" He clawed for the Ring but Sam easily brushed aside his
hands.
He held the Ring up, watching it spiral in the bright light of the volcano. It called to Sam,
knowing that he was one of the Dark creatures. The Ring whispered promises of power, of jewels
and gold, of gardens and a world covered in beauty.
"Will you give him back to me?" Sam asked the Ring, "Will you make me alive again?"
The Ring was silent. It could promise many things, but it could not promise life to the dead.
It could not unmake what its powers had wrought.
Sam flung the Ring into the volcano, oblivious to Frodo's anguished scream. It fell downward
and Sam watched its movement until it disappeared into the raging liquid below. A distressed
moan sounded from beside Sam.
He tore his eyes away from the volcano in time to see the light in Frodo's eyes die. The
smaller Hobbit collapsed, pulling Sam with him. "Frodo!" He screamed, "Frodo!"
But the destruction of the Ring had proved too much for Frodo. Behind him, the volcano began
to boil with a furious rage as it destroyed the Ring. Calling on the last reserves of strength
in his body, Sam picked up Frodo and ran down the mountain. His body screamed in pain as he
struggled down the mountain. The sharp rocks that littered the volcano pierced his feet,
causing him to stumble. But he never fell, no matter how the stones tore his feet. His head
throbbed in time with the unearthly pulsing light of the erupting volcano.
Finally, he reached the base of the mountain and they both collapsed. Frodo had stopped
breathing and now his heart was beginning to give out. "No..." Sam moaned, torn between
letting Frodo die or cursing him with eternal unlife.
The two red marks on the side of Frodo's neck almost glowed in the dead lights of the
wastelands. With a snarl, Sam's beast came to forefront, fangs ripping though his gums and
eyes glowing with an aberrant red light. The hunger of the beast overwhelmed the goodness of
the Hobbit. He tilted Frodo's head back and bit into his skin, piecing the red marks.
Blood, hot and salty, filled Sam's mouth in a rush. With a moan of pleasure, he drank in long
gulps, feeling the warmth fill him. The world seemed to shrink and in a moment, there was only
the body beneath his and the taste of life filling his dead body. He could have continued
forever just drinking, but the frantic, failing heartbeat reminded Sam of his purpose.
Instinct took over where logic failed. Once, long ago, Smeagol had lain overtop his cousin
Deagol in the same manner and did nothing. But Sam was not Smeagol and Frodo meant more than
the world to Sam.
He drew his mouth away from Frodo's neck and, using his teeth, ripped open his own wrist. Sam
pressed it to Frodo's open mouth, forcing the blood down his throat. "Drink Frodo," He urged,
tilting the head to allow more to flow in, "Drink!"
Frodo lay with his mouth open, as still and quiet as Sam's heart. Time stretched on forever,
then Frodo swallowed one, twice and then no more. The heartbeat went on for a little more time
before finally halting. Sam cradled the body in his arms began to cry, the features of the
beast within him fading away.
And that's how they were found when the eagle arrived at Mount Doom. Sam refused to let any
other touch Frodo and they were born on the back of the Gwaihir the Windlord, for no other
eagle would touch them.
When they arrived in Minas Tirith, Sam and Frodo were quickly taken to the healers. And though
they tried to take Frodo away, Sam refused to let go of his fallen master. The healers looked
at Frodo's still form and concluded that they could do nothing. No one of them noticed that
Sam's form was as still as Frodo's.
When night finally descended, Frodo stirred ever so slightly and opened his eyes, now a dark
indigo instead of their natural blue.
"Sam," he croaked.
"Yes Frodo?"
"I'm hungry." His eyes fixed on Sam's face, "So hungry." He sat up and pushed away from Sam.
"What did you do to me?"
"I..."
Frodo's hand reached up and touched the newly opened marks on the side of his neck. The look
of betrayal in Frodo's eyes was like a slap across Sam's face. "You touched me?" He hissed,
"Like Gollum did? You made me like him?"
"Frodo, I..." Sam reached out to touch his master.
"Don't." Frodo slipped off the bed and out of Sam's reach. "I trusted you Sam. I trusted that
you would let me go. I shouldn't have trusted you."
Sam tried to speak but the words wouldn't come. Frodo took one last look at Sam and left the
room, shutting the door behind him. The moment the door closed, Sam buried his face into his
hands and cried, bloody tears staining his palms.
~Fins~
AUTHOR: Sanguinary
COPYRIGHT: June 23, 2002
DISTRIBUTION: Want? Ask. Otherwise, expect to find a vampire hobbit clinging off your ankles.
RATING: PG 13
CATEGORY: Horror, Vampires, some slashy subtext
SERIES: Barren
SPOILERS: Return of the King
DISCLAIMER: Everything in the LotRverse not mine.
FEEDBACK: Spawns more vamp!Hobbits: Sanguinary_515@hotmail.com
SUMMARY: Sam and Frodo at the lip of Mount Doom. But destroying the Ring may be the easier task
to complete.
~
The heat is stronger than Sam would have ever imagined it to be. It weighs heavily down on him,
pressing his body into the dead earth. If he were not a vampire, he would not have the strength
to pull both himself and Frodo up the mountain. And even with his newly gained strength, he is
bone tired and about three steps away from total collapse. But the lip of the mountain is within
his reach now.
Frodo lies on Sam's back, motionless. The gentle thumping noise and slow breaths are the only
indication that Frodo is not dead. The poor Hobbit is deep in sleep, so deep that he didn't
even try to pull away from Sam's touch. This worried Sam intensely and he would rest if he
didn't know that it wouldn't do any good.
The quest must be completed. And when it is, Sam will lie down next to Frodo's cold body and
they'll both sleep for eternity.
Finally, he steps on the lip of the volcano. His legs are shaking badly but he manages three
more steps before he collapses. Sam lies on the ground, unable to move a muscle. Presently, he
remembers Frodo and he gently rolls the too-light Hobbit off his back. Frodo is still asleep,
his hand clutching the One Ring. The heartbeat has slowed since they started up the mountain
and his breathing is almost non-existent.
Frodo's dying. And Sam's starving. He hasn't eaten a bit since they left that Orc army and Sam
managed to take one or two mouthfuls from one of the fallen beasts. It burned his insides but
the horrible blood had given him the strength to carry on until this point. Now his body called
for fresh blood. And the only source was Frodo.
Sam shook Frodo gently, willing him to wake from his sleep. It seemed like forever before he
opened his eyes and stared up at Sam. His face and eyes were pale, like they had been when he
was suffering from the Mogul blade. "Mr. Frodo." Sam said hoarsely, "We're here Mr. Frodo.
You've got to throw the Ring into the fires."
Even though he was still aching all over, Sam helped Frodo stand and together, the two Hobbits
limped towards the abyss. The molten metal churned below them in eager anticipation, glowing
with an unearthly light. Sam looked at the Ring and saw it glow with the same unearthly light.
It had returned to its birthplace.
Frodo lifted a hand to the ring and slipped the chain over his head. He held it above the
burning heat. "Sam..." He said quietly, "I came here to destroy the Ring. But I can't.
I can't..." Frodo gripped the chain tightly and tears streamed down his sooty face.
Sam reached for Frodo's hand and pried the chain out of it. A sudden strange light lit inside
of Frodo, "Give to me! It's mine!" He clawed for the Ring but Sam easily brushed aside his
hands.
He held the Ring up, watching it spiral in the bright light of the volcano. It called to Sam,
knowing that he was one of the Dark creatures. The Ring whispered promises of power, of jewels
and gold, of gardens and a world covered in beauty.
"Will you give him back to me?" Sam asked the Ring, "Will you make me alive again?"
The Ring was silent. It could promise many things, but it could not promise life to the dead.
It could not unmake what its powers had wrought.
Sam flung the Ring into the volcano, oblivious to Frodo's anguished scream. It fell downward
and Sam watched its movement until it disappeared into the raging liquid below. A distressed
moan sounded from beside Sam.
He tore his eyes away from the volcano in time to see the light in Frodo's eyes die. The
smaller Hobbit collapsed, pulling Sam with him. "Frodo!" He screamed, "Frodo!"
But the destruction of the Ring had proved too much for Frodo. Behind him, the volcano began
to boil with a furious rage as it destroyed the Ring. Calling on the last reserves of strength
in his body, Sam picked up Frodo and ran down the mountain. His body screamed in pain as he
struggled down the mountain. The sharp rocks that littered the volcano pierced his feet,
causing him to stumble. But he never fell, no matter how the stones tore his feet. His head
throbbed in time with the unearthly pulsing light of the erupting volcano.
Finally, he reached the base of the mountain and they both collapsed. Frodo had stopped
breathing and now his heart was beginning to give out. "No..." Sam moaned, torn between
letting Frodo die or cursing him with eternal unlife.
The two red marks on the side of Frodo's neck almost glowed in the dead lights of the
wastelands. With a snarl, Sam's beast came to forefront, fangs ripping though his gums and
eyes glowing with an aberrant red light. The hunger of the beast overwhelmed the goodness of
the Hobbit. He tilted Frodo's head back and bit into his skin, piecing the red marks.
Blood, hot and salty, filled Sam's mouth in a rush. With a moan of pleasure, he drank in long
gulps, feeling the warmth fill him. The world seemed to shrink and in a moment, there was only
the body beneath his and the taste of life filling his dead body. He could have continued
forever just drinking, but the frantic, failing heartbeat reminded Sam of his purpose.
Instinct took over where logic failed. Once, long ago, Smeagol had lain overtop his cousin
Deagol in the same manner and did nothing. But Sam was not Smeagol and Frodo meant more than
the world to Sam.
He drew his mouth away from Frodo's neck and, using his teeth, ripped open his own wrist. Sam
pressed it to Frodo's open mouth, forcing the blood down his throat. "Drink Frodo," He urged,
tilting the head to allow more to flow in, "Drink!"
Frodo lay with his mouth open, as still and quiet as Sam's heart. Time stretched on forever,
then Frodo swallowed one, twice and then no more. The heartbeat went on for a little more time
before finally halting. Sam cradled the body in his arms began to cry, the features of the
beast within him fading away.
And that's how they were found when the eagle arrived at Mount Doom. Sam refused to let any
other touch Frodo and they were born on the back of the Gwaihir the Windlord, for no other
eagle would touch them.
When they arrived in Minas Tirith, Sam and Frodo were quickly taken to the healers. And though
they tried to take Frodo away, Sam refused to let go of his fallen master. The healers looked
at Frodo's still form and concluded that they could do nothing. No one of them noticed that
Sam's form was as still as Frodo's.
When night finally descended, Frodo stirred ever so slightly and opened his eyes, now a dark
indigo instead of their natural blue.
"Sam," he croaked.
"Yes Frodo?"
"I'm hungry." His eyes fixed on Sam's face, "So hungry." He sat up and pushed away from Sam.
"What did you do to me?"
"I..."
Frodo's hand reached up and touched the newly opened marks on the side of his neck. The look
of betrayal in Frodo's eyes was like a slap across Sam's face. "You touched me?" He hissed,
"Like Gollum did? You made me like him?"
"Frodo, I..." Sam reached out to touch his master.
"Don't." Frodo slipped off the bed and out of Sam's reach. "I trusted you Sam. I trusted that
you would let me go. I shouldn't have trusted you."
Sam tried to speak but the words wouldn't come. Frodo took one last look at Sam and left the
room, shutting the door behind him. The moment the door closed, Sam buried his face into his
hands and cried, bloody tears staining his palms.
~Fins~