It was only when she reached the river Aunduin, that disastor struck.
They had been living off whatever food their mother had managed to throw into a small sack that had been with Darres. Berries, often, came upon their journey, and Tanth'Quiel stained her hands bright red picking them. She had scratches all up her arm: but still worried often about their soon ending supply.
It was upon one of these forages that she came back to find themselves surrounded by an army of orcs. Darres was crying: huddled to Fenella's leg, as one by one, the ugly creatures advanced for a closer look. There were only about 10 in the whole group: but they were just as menacing as 100 in Tanth'Quiel's case. It was her mistake to utter a cry; and they were seized.
The head orc instructed with grunts and un-impressed snorts for the two to be tied together. Darres was much shorter then his sister and could not walk with one arm raised in the air. Tanth'Quiel had pleaded to be let to carry him, but the orcs only sneered and pressed their jarred spears deeper into her back. Quira and Fenella were led by another two; it was obvious the orcs valued their possesion.
'Stay strong Darres,' Tanth'Quiel whispered. Her brother gave a whimper and in a loyal fashion pressed his small frame nearer to her leg, staring around with big eyes. Pretty soon they were moving onward.
They crossed the river on boats towards midday. Once on the other side, their mad journey continued. The two mortal captees were kept at a brisk march, the two equines spurred constantly into a pace nearer to a trot. Every now and then one would buck and be whipped harder.
It may have been weeks: Tanth'Quiel didn't know, but finally, she felt an un-comfortable breeze stir up, one that told of misfortune upahead. The air was thick now, and before them, great towering mounds loomed, with a peircing tower cutting through the grime. It took them a full days journey to get there: and they entered through the gap into a land more horrid then the girl had ever seen, even in nightmares.
Mordor, she realized, remembering the stories. The land where Sauron dwelled.
They stopped to rest at nightfall, set up camp. The two prisoners were thrown bread crusts and some dirty water in a flask (most of which was then sacrificed to Darres, as well as one, small piece to Quira and Fenella) and then all was still. Sleep overtook the orcs, and even Tanth'Quiel's guard dozed off.
She sat in silence, in darkness, pulsing with fear. It seemed to close her eyes would be just as fearful as keeping them open. Mordor held her in it's grasp: terror was within every movement anyone took, within the charred breeze that roamed these lands, and the moon, hidden behind swirling mist.
Tanth'Quiel had been un-bided from her brother upon entering Mordor. It seemed, the orcs guard had been rested in ease upon entering their own land, and they were now much more calmer. Now, all that was keeping the two young prisoners from freedom was ropes around their wrists and the two orcs ordered to keep watch.
Tanth'Quiel seized her chance. She stood up, very slowly, breath held, fearing every motion could seal her fate. Tip-toeing to her brother, always keeping an eye on the rest of the orcs, she quickly picked him up into her arms. Together, they stepped back. Again. And again. Until they were about 100 metres from the orcs, whence Tanth'Quiel tripped.
She fell without a cry: and with relief noted that no one had stirred. Picking herself up and putting Darres down, she looked upon the cause of her slip. As her eyes travelled, she noted the thick layer of dust and mud covering her clothes. [I must look like an orc myself] she thought.
But was forced to hold down a gasp when she saw what was lying beneath her feet. A figure: small, silent, in the position that would sujest he was sleeping: one arm outstretched forth, one leg raised slightly to his belly. But he was not sleeping, he wasn't **breathing**.
Tanth'Quiel knealt down and brushed a strand of his hair from his closed eyes. Soft, wavy, lightish locks opened up a rounded face. He looked almost peaceful: lying there so insignifcantly, and yet, with a haunted look set upon his features. The girl wished with all her heart to bring him back from his departure from life. There was something touching about this person she did not know.
However, all further thought was interupted by a grunt: Tanth'Quiel spun around to find a orc shifting, then lifting his head. He blinked in the before-morning light, then sprung up, nudging the two nearest orcs beside him. 'The mortal's escaping!'
Tanth'Quiel barely got to move, they were already upon her. 'No! Let me go!' She fought with arms and legs: but the grip around her shoulders was iron. A voice snickered in her ear. 'Thought to get away, pathetical mortal.'
She looked around with anguish, only to find Darres gone. He was running across the land, followed closly by a pursuing orc. Upon her eyes, seeming in slow motion, the orc roared, fired an arrow, and Darres fell, went limp. She cried out, struggled, beat with all her might, but her brother lay un- moving, a child in his crib, sleeping, in her eyes.
The landscape before her gloomed; she lowered her head as she was dragged back to the camp. Tears seeped through eyelids closed tightly: pain filtered throughout her heart. Darres was gone, really gone, and nothing could ever bring him back.
It was the night whence Tanth'Quiel of Gonder found Samwise Gamgee lying upon the road, dead, and lost her own brother, that Frodo stirred in his cavern of darkness. He shifted from something much like a sleep: a state he had been in for almost two days now. Frodo was neither anxious nor jittery: time seemed to have no effect on him at all in Sauron's lair. He felt like he could spend the rest of eterenity in his prison: waiting to be called to power.
He went to his lookout and stared. Middle-Earth was crumbling before his eyes: darkness creeping up into the land steadily. He felt somewhat shamed: but refused to give in to this, and turned away.
He spent two more days in total silence, with no thoughts and emotion let through the wall he had barricaded himself in. He found, though, that bits of his past life he could not remember already: there was a place where he once lived, with plains and forests, and his.. uncle was it? And elves..
No. No elves. Just Hobbits. Hobbits? What a silly name!
He vaguely wondered what Hobbits were. Some, no doubt, weak and power-less race he had once met.
At this moment, his train of thought was interupted, as something stirred. Two voices grew louder within his cavern: and in response, Frodo melted into the shadows, waiting.
Two orcs.
'So what do we do with this petty mortal thing?'
'Lord Sauron said to put all captees in the North Cavern.'
'Wasn't there someone here?'
'Oh, yeah, the halfling.' A pause. 'Dunno what happened with him though, this cavern looks pretty empty.'
'It gives me the creeps, let's just dump the girl.'
'Let me **go**!'
'Shuttup!'
'Why was there only one prisoner here?'
'How should I know?! All I've been told is there are some more coming from The Shire, and Rohan.'
The two voices faded then, and Frodo blinked. In the light floating down from the lookout window, filtered to a pale gray, a figure was upon hands and knees, head beant downward. She looked like she was shaking with silent sobs: but that was all Frodo could tell. He shifted and stood in silence, watching.
Her mop of curled, brown hair hung around her face, which Frodo could not see. She was small: yet lean, and a thought of 'men' floated by, but was disregarded.
She raised her head and saw him. Flinging her body up, and onto her feet, she looked all but petrified. 'Who are you?!' her lips were set in a stright line: eyes wide with fear.
She may have rivaled Galadriel's beauty for all the difference to Frodo. But as it happened, Tanth'Quiel was very simple for a mortal: her features could have been labeled 'charming' but not quite 'beautiful'. It was not the same she thought of him: he could have been very handsome once, with tightly curled black hair, and eyes the color of bright blue. Now, he seemed drained and pale.
He uttered his name as if hearing it for the first time. 'Frodo.' And as an afterthought: 'Baggins.'
The young girl re-coiled, and her features changed so drastically it seemed impossible. 'You're the betrayer!' she spat.
'No, the wise one amongst fools.'
'You're the cause of all this destruction. You're the cause of my brother's death, Gonder's anguish.'
He stepped forth with a note of anger, and seemed paler then before. 'I acted as I should have. Do not try and imagine how much suffering I went through for the ring, and Middle-Earth, whilst it stood in rich comforts waiting for me to save them all. I gave up my life, everything, just because no one else could take the ring here, could not risk their own existance, rather send some useless. Hobbit. Why should I be the hero?! I never asked for this!' his voice was rising, and echoing oddly in the hollow crack of the cavern.
'So,' she said furiously. 'You turned to selfish-ness in order to save yourself?'
He gave no reply, swung around and disapeared into the shadows. Tanth'Quiel tilted her head to the light coming from the window and got up, went over the lookout and sat down, watching.
______
**cowers** I can only imagine the reaction from the wonderful people (THANKYOU, THANKYOU, THANKYOU, THANKYOU!) who've been reviewing this to Sam's death. In my own defense, I'd like to say, that this was how it was planned from the very beginning of the story and please don't hurt me.
They had been living off whatever food their mother had managed to throw into a small sack that had been with Darres. Berries, often, came upon their journey, and Tanth'Quiel stained her hands bright red picking them. She had scratches all up her arm: but still worried often about their soon ending supply.
It was upon one of these forages that she came back to find themselves surrounded by an army of orcs. Darres was crying: huddled to Fenella's leg, as one by one, the ugly creatures advanced for a closer look. There were only about 10 in the whole group: but they were just as menacing as 100 in Tanth'Quiel's case. It was her mistake to utter a cry; and they were seized.
The head orc instructed with grunts and un-impressed snorts for the two to be tied together. Darres was much shorter then his sister and could not walk with one arm raised in the air. Tanth'Quiel had pleaded to be let to carry him, but the orcs only sneered and pressed their jarred spears deeper into her back. Quira and Fenella were led by another two; it was obvious the orcs valued their possesion.
'Stay strong Darres,' Tanth'Quiel whispered. Her brother gave a whimper and in a loyal fashion pressed his small frame nearer to her leg, staring around with big eyes. Pretty soon they were moving onward.
They crossed the river on boats towards midday. Once on the other side, their mad journey continued. The two mortal captees were kept at a brisk march, the two equines spurred constantly into a pace nearer to a trot. Every now and then one would buck and be whipped harder.
It may have been weeks: Tanth'Quiel didn't know, but finally, she felt an un-comfortable breeze stir up, one that told of misfortune upahead. The air was thick now, and before them, great towering mounds loomed, with a peircing tower cutting through the grime. It took them a full days journey to get there: and they entered through the gap into a land more horrid then the girl had ever seen, even in nightmares.
Mordor, she realized, remembering the stories. The land where Sauron dwelled.
They stopped to rest at nightfall, set up camp. The two prisoners were thrown bread crusts and some dirty water in a flask (most of which was then sacrificed to Darres, as well as one, small piece to Quira and Fenella) and then all was still. Sleep overtook the orcs, and even Tanth'Quiel's guard dozed off.
She sat in silence, in darkness, pulsing with fear. It seemed to close her eyes would be just as fearful as keeping them open. Mordor held her in it's grasp: terror was within every movement anyone took, within the charred breeze that roamed these lands, and the moon, hidden behind swirling mist.
Tanth'Quiel had been un-bided from her brother upon entering Mordor. It seemed, the orcs guard had been rested in ease upon entering their own land, and they were now much more calmer. Now, all that was keeping the two young prisoners from freedom was ropes around their wrists and the two orcs ordered to keep watch.
Tanth'Quiel seized her chance. She stood up, very slowly, breath held, fearing every motion could seal her fate. Tip-toeing to her brother, always keeping an eye on the rest of the orcs, she quickly picked him up into her arms. Together, they stepped back. Again. And again. Until they were about 100 metres from the orcs, whence Tanth'Quiel tripped.
She fell without a cry: and with relief noted that no one had stirred. Picking herself up and putting Darres down, she looked upon the cause of her slip. As her eyes travelled, she noted the thick layer of dust and mud covering her clothes. [I must look like an orc myself] she thought.
But was forced to hold down a gasp when she saw what was lying beneath her feet. A figure: small, silent, in the position that would sujest he was sleeping: one arm outstretched forth, one leg raised slightly to his belly. But he was not sleeping, he wasn't **breathing**.
Tanth'Quiel knealt down and brushed a strand of his hair from his closed eyes. Soft, wavy, lightish locks opened up a rounded face. He looked almost peaceful: lying there so insignifcantly, and yet, with a haunted look set upon his features. The girl wished with all her heart to bring him back from his departure from life. There was something touching about this person she did not know.
However, all further thought was interupted by a grunt: Tanth'Quiel spun around to find a orc shifting, then lifting his head. He blinked in the before-morning light, then sprung up, nudging the two nearest orcs beside him. 'The mortal's escaping!'
Tanth'Quiel barely got to move, they were already upon her. 'No! Let me go!' She fought with arms and legs: but the grip around her shoulders was iron. A voice snickered in her ear. 'Thought to get away, pathetical mortal.'
She looked around with anguish, only to find Darres gone. He was running across the land, followed closly by a pursuing orc. Upon her eyes, seeming in slow motion, the orc roared, fired an arrow, and Darres fell, went limp. She cried out, struggled, beat with all her might, but her brother lay un- moving, a child in his crib, sleeping, in her eyes.
The landscape before her gloomed; she lowered her head as she was dragged back to the camp. Tears seeped through eyelids closed tightly: pain filtered throughout her heart. Darres was gone, really gone, and nothing could ever bring him back.
It was the night whence Tanth'Quiel of Gonder found Samwise Gamgee lying upon the road, dead, and lost her own brother, that Frodo stirred in his cavern of darkness. He shifted from something much like a sleep: a state he had been in for almost two days now. Frodo was neither anxious nor jittery: time seemed to have no effect on him at all in Sauron's lair. He felt like he could spend the rest of eterenity in his prison: waiting to be called to power.
He went to his lookout and stared. Middle-Earth was crumbling before his eyes: darkness creeping up into the land steadily. He felt somewhat shamed: but refused to give in to this, and turned away.
He spent two more days in total silence, with no thoughts and emotion let through the wall he had barricaded himself in. He found, though, that bits of his past life he could not remember already: there was a place where he once lived, with plains and forests, and his.. uncle was it? And elves..
No. No elves. Just Hobbits. Hobbits? What a silly name!
He vaguely wondered what Hobbits were. Some, no doubt, weak and power-less race he had once met.
At this moment, his train of thought was interupted, as something stirred. Two voices grew louder within his cavern: and in response, Frodo melted into the shadows, waiting.
Two orcs.
'So what do we do with this petty mortal thing?'
'Lord Sauron said to put all captees in the North Cavern.'
'Wasn't there someone here?'
'Oh, yeah, the halfling.' A pause. 'Dunno what happened with him though, this cavern looks pretty empty.'
'It gives me the creeps, let's just dump the girl.'
'Let me **go**!'
'Shuttup!'
'Why was there only one prisoner here?'
'How should I know?! All I've been told is there are some more coming from The Shire, and Rohan.'
The two voices faded then, and Frodo blinked. In the light floating down from the lookout window, filtered to a pale gray, a figure was upon hands and knees, head beant downward. She looked like she was shaking with silent sobs: but that was all Frodo could tell. He shifted and stood in silence, watching.
Her mop of curled, brown hair hung around her face, which Frodo could not see. She was small: yet lean, and a thought of 'men' floated by, but was disregarded.
She raised her head and saw him. Flinging her body up, and onto her feet, she looked all but petrified. 'Who are you?!' her lips were set in a stright line: eyes wide with fear.
She may have rivaled Galadriel's beauty for all the difference to Frodo. But as it happened, Tanth'Quiel was very simple for a mortal: her features could have been labeled 'charming' but not quite 'beautiful'. It was not the same she thought of him: he could have been very handsome once, with tightly curled black hair, and eyes the color of bright blue. Now, he seemed drained and pale.
He uttered his name as if hearing it for the first time. 'Frodo.' And as an afterthought: 'Baggins.'
The young girl re-coiled, and her features changed so drastically it seemed impossible. 'You're the betrayer!' she spat.
'No, the wise one amongst fools.'
'You're the cause of all this destruction. You're the cause of my brother's death, Gonder's anguish.'
He stepped forth with a note of anger, and seemed paler then before. 'I acted as I should have. Do not try and imagine how much suffering I went through for the ring, and Middle-Earth, whilst it stood in rich comforts waiting for me to save them all. I gave up my life, everything, just because no one else could take the ring here, could not risk their own existance, rather send some useless. Hobbit. Why should I be the hero?! I never asked for this!' his voice was rising, and echoing oddly in the hollow crack of the cavern.
'So,' she said furiously. 'You turned to selfish-ness in order to save yourself?'
He gave no reply, swung around and disapeared into the shadows. Tanth'Quiel tilted her head to the light coming from the window and got up, went over the lookout and sat down, watching.
______
**cowers** I can only imagine the reaction from the wonderful people (THANKYOU, THANKYOU, THANKYOU, THANKYOU!) who've been reviewing this to Sam's death. In my own defense, I'd like to say, that this was how it was planned from the very beginning of the story and please don't hurt me.