Disclaimer is the same as in chapter one.
Author's note at the end.
"Hostile Takeover"-Chapter Fourteen: The Old Mines
Sally extinguished the light from her flashlight at the first sound of the deep-throated voices behind her. She crouched low in the shadows and prayed that no one heard her as well. She closed her eyes and childishly willed herself to be invisible.
Legolas had drawn a very good map but no one had planned for the dwarves to deviate from their normal practices. In her blind, human stupidity she had almost walked into the middle of their camp. She had caught a glimpse of their firelight before she turned back on her trail.
The hobbit within her had forgotten that she was supposed to be afraid of dwarves.
But in her clumsiness, she made her presence known. The sound of heavy footfalls followed the voices and both grew louder and closer. Fear pounded her heart hard against her chest. As much as she wanted to run, she knew it was pointless. The only path away from the dwarves led back to the world of man, away from Frodo. She had to reach him, or die trying.
She clapped her hands over her head as the dwarves set upon her and hoped that they would be merciful and quick in their judgment. Two hands grabbed her roughly and dragged her through the blackness, back towards the camp. A voice from above her called to his kinsmen in chilling tones. Sally didn't recognize the words but she knew they concerned her. She did not fight them or try to escape. She was already in enough danger.
The light from their fire illuminated her sight as she stumbled into the midst of their camp. She glanced around quickly and counted five dwarves before another pair of hands grabbed her shoulders and threw her into the wall. The action happened so quickly that she didn't bring up her arms to catch herself. Her face hit the wall before the rest of her followed. She felt an odd snap in her nose and for the briefest of moment saw a shower of shimmering stars. Her knees buckled beneath her and she sank to the ground.
"How did you get in here, human?!" a voice from behind her demanded.
A wave of nausea followed the spreading pain in her head. She struggled to keep what little of her senses had not smashed against the cave wall but could not muster the coherency to answer. She could only moan in reply.
Another voice, more soft-spoken, said with alarm, "Look, she wears to elf's cloak."
"Maybe she killed him," the first replied with disgust.
From the proximately of his voice, she knew he had come closer. Her body reeled with the anticipation of further abuse. She forced her head to lift and her mouth to speak. "No!" she cried, "You don't understand. He gave it to me!"
Though her vision had blurred in her right eye, she could now see six dwarves surrounding her. They regarded her as if humans were incapable of speech. Either they did not hear her or they did not care. The three closest to her hefted their axes menacingly. One used the handle to poke at her like a caged zoo animal.
Her wincing reaction caused him to chuckle. "Look at her," he remarked, "a weakling like that wouldn't have been able to blink at him."
Sally tried to take a deep, steadying breath but her nose was ruined. To try to breathe through it took her down a road of pain that threatened her consciousness. As she opened her mouth, she could taste her blood on her lips. "Please," she said, forcing calm into her voice, "I'm here for the Ringbearer.I'm here for Frodo." She raised her hands to them in supplication. Somehow, she had to make them listen. "Please, I have to find him."
"Why?" a new voice asked from the back of the group. "Why must you find him?" This dwarf stepped forward and met her eyes with an intensity that made Sally unable to look away. Strangely, she noted that his beard was significantly shorter than the others.
"Because." Her mind labored over a convincing answer. She then realized only the truth would fit this. "Because he can't do it alone," she said quietly. Tears burned in her eyes. "I have to help him."
The short bearded dwarf approached her and the others parted to let him closer. He bent down on one knee before her and studied her with an unreadable expression. She did not take her eyes away from him. Out of respect or out of fear, even she did not know. As he looked at her, she knew he would decide her fate.
Finally, he lifted his axe and Sally felt the color drain from her face.
"Let her be," he ordered. "I take her under my protection." He turned to face the others, his brothers, and stood between her and them, displaying his weapon to show he meant what he said.
The other dwarves stared at him in disbelief. "Boz, have you lost your mind?" one of them asked. "She's human. They can't be trusted." He spoke these last statements in harsh whispers as if the words themselves were scandalous.
"So she's human," her defender scoffed, "so she comes from a place of evil. We have heard many tales where evil springs out of goodness. Cannot the opposite happen?" He stepped towards them as he explained and they backed away from him unsteadily. They looked to him as if his compassion towards the human were some contagious disease. "The elf must have known this. How else can you explain the cloak? He sent it with her as a sign. I believe her and I will lead her to the Ringbearer."
An elder dwarf came forward and rested his hand on the younger's arm. "Boz- -" he began in a placating tone.
Boz wrenched his arm out of the other's grasp. "Don't," he said warningly. He hefted his axe between them. "I know what I am doing."
One by one, the others turned their backs on him and the human he chose to protect. Each packed their belongings together and without a word to their brother, they left. Boz watched them go without expression, standing before Sally with his axe in hand, ready to defend her if need be.
Sally kept silent, fearing that anything she could say would only make the situation more difficult. She stared at her benefactor in bewilderment. He had alienated his people for her and she didn't know why.
When at last the other dwarves left the campsite, Boz relaxed and began his own task of gathering his belongings.
Sally ventured to speak. "Your decision isn't a very popular one," she remarked softly.
"I care nothing for popularity," he replied without looking at her. Obviously he didn't protect her because he liked humanity.
Still, whatever his reason, Sally was unspeakably grateful. "Thank you. You saved--"
"Who are you?" he asked suddenly. He had turned his intense eyes upon her and fear crept back into her heart.
"Uh, I," she stammered, "My name is Sally. I'm--"
"That's not what I meant," he snapped impatiently. He took two broad strides towards her and lifted her up by the cowl of her cloak. "Who are you really?"
Sally trembled as his hot breath fell upon her. The right side of her face throbbed from the delicate contact. "I don't understand," she whispered in reply.
Boz looked at her closely as he had before he took her under his protection. He almost seemed to be looking for something, beyond the surface, a point of recognition. Others had looked at her this way before. "You're one of them, aren't you?" he asked her roughly. "One of the little ones. Which one?"
She swallowed hard. She understood. "Sam."
He released his hold on her immediately. His expression softened and he almost seemed to smile. He reached up and touched the undamaged side of her face with a calloused hand. "I should have known," he said softly. "I can see it, you know. There, in your eyes."
Gently, she pulled his hand away from her. Only members of the Fellowship had been able to even guess at who she was. What would this dwarf know of her destiny? "How?" she asked.
He chuckled softly at her wariness. "I wondered if I was the only one," he said. Then, he became solemn, remembering a shame he had been unable to share before. He looked down at his hands, lying open in his lap. They craved a gentleness he had not found with his kinsmen, a touch of understanding that could only come from one who knew his suffering. "I thought that I was here to atone for my weakness," he admitted quietly.
Sally's heart swelled with her realization. She recognized him at once. She was no longer alone. "You're Boromir," she breathed.
Her hands reached out to him and he took them. Though they had not shared a closeness in their previous lives, they embraced now, for they had a common bond so deep they could not express it with words. Boromir began to laugh warmly as he patted her on the back. "So, Master Samwise," he said, happy in the reunion. "We surely are a sorry lot. A juvenile dwarf and a human female. Why do you think we're here?"
Sally parted from him and smiled wistfully. "Perhaps you're not the only one seeking atonement."
* * *
After they picked up the gear and extinguished the fire, they deserted the campsite, leaving the small cavern uninhabited once again. So few traveled through this part of Moria that years could pass before fire would light those walls again, and yet in the dust, the footprints of dwarves and human would remain untouched and forgotten.
Sally tucked Legolas' map into her pack. She no longer needed it. She couldn't have imagined a better guide through the twisting, rising, sloping trails laced through the center of this mountain. As she followed, paces behind him, she watched him intently, searching for traces of the man he had once been. The way he held his head, the slope of his shoulders, his stride, all these things echoed the past.
She wondered how she resembled her former self.
"We are only trailing them by a few hours," Boromir called back to her.
She broke from her reverie. "You saw him?" she asked. That possibility had not occurred to her. She had thought that the dwarves' presence on her path had just been her bad luck but now she saw the sense in it. Of course he would have seen Frodo. They were waiting for him.
He nodded. "My father is leading the group to take him to the other side." He slowed a moment, reflecting on his statement. "That feels strange, saying that to you. My father."
Sally couldn't repress her growing smile. "How does it feel to be a dwarf?" she asked.
He glanced back at her with mischievous warning. "How does it feel to be a woman?"
She looked down at her trail thoughtfully, considering the question. "Different," she replied finally, "but not altogether unfamiliar. I've only known that I'm Sam for less than a day."
Boromir nodded again. He understood well the feelings behind her words. "There had always been something missing from my life. A wrongness that I could never repair," he explained, "but today-clarity. It was as if I took my last breath on Amon Hen and then opened my eyes here."
Sally stopped. She looked at the dwarf in front of her with sad realization. "Amon Hen.?" she asked in a quavering breath. In order for her to see him in this life, the other had to end.
"The Uruk-Hai," he explained matter of factly. "Trying to take the Ring from Frodo was nearly the last thing I did."
He did not hear Sally's footsteps behind him and he turned to see the reason. He saw her shaking, leaning against the left wall of the tunnel for support. He ran back to her and found her bruised, puffy face streaming with tears. "Sam?" He took her hand. His voice was full of concern. She would not look at him.
"I." she began unsteadily. "I didn't know that you had died."
Boromir looked at her with astonishment. She wept for events of distant past as if they were fresh and occurred before her eyes. The sentiment touched him but he knew that it was misplaced. He took her chin gingerly in his free hand and turned her face until she had no choice but to meet his eyes. "Do not grieve for me, Master Samwise," he told her with a robustness that could only come from a dwarf. "In this life, I still live."
* * *
They had begun their journey in song and jubilation but now the dwarves' voices fell silent. Gorin leaned close to Frodo and whispered in explanation, "We are nearing orc territory. We should try not to alert them to our presence."
The hobbit nodded in agreement. Orcs were a fixture of his past that he did not wish to see again. He had often marveled at their continued existence. Despite their repeated defeats in battle and their often perilous proximity to extinction, they possessed a stubborn will to survive. The dwarves almost tolerated their presence in Moria. Unlike humans, the orcs held no hidden agenda. They wore their evil like a banner.
Frodo sometimes believed that the dwarves were secretly happy to have them there. If they ever succeeded in driving the orcs out of Moria entirely, the mines might become too quiet.
Woton stopped their party with a gesture. Each in line tilted their head to listen. Frodo strained to hear but the sounds that came to his ears were indistinct. He would have dismissed them easily but their leader gave another silent signal which caused each dwarf to make axe and shield ready.
The events which followed happened too quickly for the hobbit to assimilate. A shower of arrows scattered among them causing the party to raise their shields in a united defense. The air filled with the deafening howls of the orcs who descended upon them from the path ahead.
The dwarves pressed around Frodo forcing him backwards through the tunnel. His instinct to join the fray drove him to feel for his sword before his conscious mind reminded him he had given it to another. He watched the battle helplessly as he realized these valiant dwarves were his only defense.
No. 'You are not helpless,' a familiar voice called to him. 'You are the most powerful being in the world.' Of its own volition, his hand reached for his pocket.
But fate had other plans for him. The ground shifted beneath his feet. He had only the briefest moment to cry out before the floor gave way entirely, dropping him to the darkness and uncertainty of the tunnel below.
* * *
Sally panted with every step as she trailed behind Boromir. Each breath was a raspy struggle to bring the stale cave air into her weary lungs. She had stopped speaking nearly an hour before. To speak and breathe had become too much of an effort for her.
Boromir stopped in a small cavern ahead of her and dropped his pack and weapons to the floor. "We will make camp here," he announced.
"Why?" Sally asked.
"Why?" he snorted in response. "Because you need rest."
She bent forward and leaned her hands on her knees. She shook her head. This was all the rest she wanted. "You said we were close," she argued, pulling herself upright. "I don't want to stop until we reach them."
Boromir stepped towards her and lifted his torch to illuminate her battered face. She could see him scrutinize her every feature and she tried to make herself look convincingly strong. He frowned at her effort. She had failed his inspection. "I don't like the sound of your breathing," he said at last.
Sally looked away guiltily. "I'm fine," she lied as she pulled in another wheezing breath. "I think my nose is broken," she offered as a weak excuse.
"It is broken," he confirmed. He turned back to his gear. "But your nose is not what concerns me, little one."
Suddenly, the stone walls that surrounded them shook. Although the sensation was everywhere, a rumbling sound issued from the path ahead of them. "What was that?" Sally asked in a harsh whisper. Her eyes had grown wide with fear.
"Orcs," he growled. "They've begun digging out the rock to make the tunnels weak. They set a trap and someone's fallen into it." He scooped up his shield and axe and abandoned the rest of his belongings as he returned to the trail.
He ran and Sally followed.
* * *
So much dust had settled at the collapse of the tunnel that hobbit blended almost too well with the surrounding rock. He laid very still with his face hidden behind his left arm. His mop of dark brown curls had turned gray with a layer of camouflaging dirt and the rest of him laid buried beneath the trail he once walked upon. Very little of his unconscious form remained visible to anyone who might look for him there. Had Frodo been able to see his predicament he might have despaired of his rescue.
Perhaps he had already despaired. Perhaps this unnatural sleep was his reaction, a self-imposed enchantment only to be broken at his will. In sleep, he could dream and surely in his dreams he could fare better than this.
"Mister Frodo?"
He could hear Sam calling to him, but his voice sounded strange. Higher. Not Sam.
Sally.
He dared to open his eyes. He moved his arm away from his face as he could feel the weight of the rocks leaving his small body. He couldn't believe what he saw. He had to still be dreaming.
"Sally.?"
She crouched before him amidst the broken rocks, peering down at him with concern. Her face was wet with tears and .blood? She had taken a beating. He reached up and touched her cheek to confirm her presence. She had been hurt.
But she was here. She was real and she was here. Together with him again.
"Stand ready, Master Samwise," a young dwarf called from behind her. Frodo recognized him vaguely as Woton's son. He had his axe and shield held ready to defend them. His eyes stared intently at the darkness ahead of him.
Sally turned in response. She spread her arms protectively over Frodo. "They're coming."
No. Not now. Not when everything is going to be alright again. Without another thought, Frodo reached for the Ring.
TBC
Author's Note: I didn't give this chapter my usual write-over, proofreading. I hope it doesn't show. The next chapter may take some time. I've planned for 15 to be a showstopper and that's going to take some dedication. It may also be extra long. I might break it up into two chapters but I won't post it until everything I have planned is written just the way I want it. Nothing but the best for you. In a way, guys it's going to be the beginning of the end. Only three chapters to go.
Chapter Fifteen: "The Mirror of the Soul"-A life is saved and a soul is lost. Also, Piper and Merrick's story comes to an end.
Author's note at the end.
"Hostile Takeover"-Chapter Fourteen: The Old Mines
Sally extinguished the light from her flashlight at the first sound of the deep-throated voices behind her. She crouched low in the shadows and prayed that no one heard her as well. She closed her eyes and childishly willed herself to be invisible.
Legolas had drawn a very good map but no one had planned for the dwarves to deviate from their normal practices. In her blind, human stupidity she had almost walked into the middle of their camp. She had caught a glimpse of their firelight before she turned back on her trail.
The hobbit within her had forgotten that she was supposed to be afraid of dwarves.
But in her clumsiness, she made her presence known. The sound of heavy footfalls followed the voices and both grew louder and closer. Fear pounded her heart hard against her chest. As much as she wanted to run, she knew it was pointless. The only path away from the dwarves led back to the world of man, away from Frodo. She had to reach him, or die trying.
She clapped her hands over her head as the dwarves set upon her and hoped that they would be merciful and quick in their judgment. Two hands grabbed her roughly and dragged her through the blackness, back towards the camp. A voice from above her called to his kinsmen in chilling tones. Sally didn't recognize the words but she knew they concerned her. She did not fight them or try to escape. She was already in enough danger.
The light from their fire illuminated her sight as she stumbled into the midst of their camp. She glanced around quickly and counted five dwarves before another pair of hands grabbed her shoulders and threw her into the wall. The action happened so quickly that she didn't bring up her arms to catch herself. Her face hit the wall before the rest of her followed. She felt an odd snap in her nose and for the briefest of moment saw a shower of shimmering stars. Her knees buckled beneath her and she sank to the ground.
"How did you get in here, human?!" a voice from behind her demanded.
A wave of nausea followed the spreading pain in her head. She struggled to keep what little of her senses had not smashed against the cave wall but could not muster the coherency to answer. She could only moan in reply.
Another voice, more soft-spoken, said with alarm, "Look, she wears to elf's cloak."
"Maybe she killed him," the first replied with disgust.
From the proximately of his voice, she knew he had come closer. Her body reeled with the anticipation of further abuse. She forced her head to lift and her mouth to speak. "No!" she cried, "You don't understand. He gave it to me!"
Though her vision had blurred in her right eye, she could now see six dwarves surrounding her. They regarded her as if humans were incapable of speech. Either they did not hear her or they did not care. The three closest to her hefted their axes menacingly. One used the handle to poke at her like a caged zoo animal.
Her wincing reaction caused him to chuckle. "Look at her," he remarked, "a weakling like that wouldn't have been able to blink at him."
Sally tried to take a deep, steadying breath but her nose was ruined. To try to breathe through it took her down a road of pain that threatened her consciousness. As she opened her mouth, she could taste her blood on her lips. "Please," she said, forcing calm into her voice, "I'm here for the Ringbearer.I'm here for Frodo." She raised her hands to them in supplication. Somehow, she had to make them listen. "Please, I have to find him."
"Why?" a new voice asked from the back of the group. "Why must you find him?" This dwarf stepped forward and met her eyes with an intensity that made Sally unable to look away. Strangely, she noted that his beard was significantly shorter than the others.
"Because." Her mind labored over a convincing answer. She then realized only the truth would fit this. "Because he can't do it alone," she said quietly. Tears burned in her eyes. "I have to help him."
The short bearded dwarf approached her and the others parted to let him closer. He bent down on one knee before her and studied her with an unreadable expression. She did not take her eyes away from him. Out of respect or out of fear, even she did not know. As he looked at her, she knew he would decide her fate.
Finally, he lifted his axe and Sally felt the color drain from her face.
"Let her be," he ordered. "I take her under my protection." He turned to face the others, his brothers, and stood between her and them, displaying his weapon to show he meant what he said.
The other dwarves stared at him in disbelief. "Boz, have you lost your mind?" one of them asked. "She's human. They can't be trusted." He spoke these last statements in harsh whispers as if the words themselves were scandalous.
"So she's human," her defender scoffed, "so she comes from a place of evil. We have heard many tales where evil springs out of goodness. Cannot the opposite happen?" He stepped towards them as he explained and they backed away from him unsteadily. They looked to him as if his compassion towards the human were some contagious disease. "The elf must have known this. How else can you explain the cloak? He sent it with her as a sign. I believe her and I will lead her to the Ringbearer."
An elder dwarf came forward and rested his hand on the younger's arm. "Boz- -" he began in a placating tone.
Boz wrenched his arm out of the other's grasp. "Don't," he said warningly. He hefted his axe between them. "I know what I am doing."
One by one, the others turned their backs on him and the human he chose to protect. Each packed their belongings together and without a word to their brother, they left. Boz watched them go without expression, standing before Sally with his axe in hand, ready to defend her if need be.
Sally kept silent, fearing that anything she could say would only make the situation more difficult. She stared at her benefactor in bewilderment. He had alienated his people for her and she didn't know why.
When at last the other dwarves left the campsite, Boz relaxed and began his own task of gathering his belongings.
Sally ventured to speak. "Your decision isn't a very popular one," she remarked softly.
"I care nothing for popularity," he replied without looking at her. Obviously he didn't protect her because he liked humanity.
Still, whatever his reason, Sally was unspeakably grateful. "Thank you. You saved--"
"Who are you?" he asked suddenly. He had turned his intense eyes upon her and fear crept back into her heart.
"Uh, I," she stammered, "My name is Sally. I'm--"
"That's not what I meant," he snapped impatiently. He took two broad strides towards her and lifted her up by the cowl of her cloak. "Who are you really?"
Sally trembled as his hot breath fell upon her. The right side of her face throbbed from the delicate contact. "I don't understand," she whispered in reply.
Boz looked at her closely as he had before he took her under his protection. He almost seemed to be looking for something, beyond the surface, a point of recognition. Others had looked at her this way before. "You're one of them, aren't you?" he asked her roughly. "One of the little ones. Which one?"
She swallowed hard. She understood. "Sam."
He released his hold on her immediately. His expression softened and he almost seemed to smile. He reached up and touched the undamaged side of her face with a calloused hand. "I should have known," he said softly. "I can see it, you know. There, in your eyes."
Gently, she pulled his hand away from her. Only members of the Fellowship had been able to even guess at who she was. What would this dwarf know of her destiny? "How?" she asked.
He chuckled softly at her wariness. "I wondered if I was the only one," he said. Then, he became solemn, remembering a shame he had been unable to share before. He looked down at his hands, lying open in his lap. They craved a gentleness he had not found with his kinsmen, a touch of understanding that could only come from one who knew his suffering. "I thought that I was here to atone for my weakness," he admitted quietly.
Sally's heart swelled with her realization. She recognized him at once. She was no longer alone. "You're Boromir," she breathed.
Her hands reached out to him and he took them. Though they had not shared a closeness in their previous lives, they embraced now, for they had a common bond so deep they could not express it with words. Boromir began to laugh warmly as he patted her on the back. "So, Master Samwise," he said, happy in the reunion. "We surely are a sorry lot. A juvenile dwarf and a human female. Why do you think we're here?"
Sally parted from him and smiled wistfully. "Perhaps you're not the only one seeking atonement."
* * *
After they picked up the gear and extinguished the fire, they deserted the campsite, leaving the small cavern uninhabited once again. So few traveled through this part of Moria that years could pass before fire would light those walls again, and yet in the dust, the footprints of dwarves and human would remain untouched and forgotten.
Sally tucked Legolas' map into her pack. She no longer needed it. She couldn't have imagined a better guide through the twisting, rising, sloping trails laced through the center of this mountain. As she followed, paces behind him, she watched him intently, searching for traces of the man he had once been. The way he held his head, the slope of his shoulders, his stride, all these things echoed the past.
She wondered how she resembled her former self.
"We are only trailing them by a few hours," Boromir called back to her.
She broke from her reverie. "You saw him?" she asked. That possibility had not occurred to her. She had thought that the dwarves' presence on her path had just been her bad luck but now she saw the sense in it. Of course he would have seen Frodo. They were waiting for him.
He nodded. "My father is leading the group to take him to the other side." He slowed a moment, reflecting on his statement. "That feels strange, saying that to you. My father."
Sally couldn't repress her growing smile. "How does it feel to be a dwarf?" she asked.
He glanced back at her with mischievous warning. "How does it feel to be a woman?"
She looked down at her trail thoughtfully, considering the question. "Different," she replied finally, "but not altogether unfamiliar. I've only known that I'm Sam for less than a day."
Boromir nodded again. He understood well the feelings behind her words. "There had always been something missing from my life. A wrongness that I could never repair," he explained, "but today-clarity. It was as if I took my last breath on Amon Hen and then opened my eyes here."
Sally stopped. She looked at the dwarf in front of her with sad realization. "Amon Hen.?" she asked in a quavering breath. In order for her to see him in this life, the other had to end.
"The Uruk-Hai," he explained matter of factly. "Trying to take the Ring from Frodo was nearly the last thing I did."
He did not hear Sally's footsteps behind him and he turned to see the reason. He saw her shaking, leaning against the left wall of the tunnel for support. He ran back to her and found her bruised, puffy face streaming with tears. "Sam?" He took her hand. His voice was full of concern. She would not look at him.
"I." she began unsteadily. "I didn't know that you had died."
Boromir looked at her with astonishment. She wept for events of distant past as if they were fresh and occurred before her eyes. The sentiment touched him but he knew that it was misplaced. He took her chin gingerly in his free hand and turned her face until she had no choice but to meet his eyes. "Do not grieve for me, Master Samwise," he told her with a robustness that could only come from a dwarf. "In this life, I still live."
* * *
They had begun their journey in song and jubilation but now the dwarves' voices fell silent. Gorin leaned close to Frodo and whispered in explanation, "We are nearing orc territory. We should try not to alert them to our presence."
The hobbit nodded in agreement. Orcs were a fixture of his past that he did not wish to see again. He had often marveled at their continued existence. Despite their repeated defeats in battle and their often perilous proximity to extinction, they possessed a stubborn will to survive. The dwarves almost tolerated their presence in Moria. Unlike humans, the orcs held no hidden agenda. They wore their evil like a banner.
Frodo sometimes believed that the dwarves were secretly happy to have them there. If they ever succeeded in driving the orcs out of Moria entirely, the mines might become too quiet.
Woton stopped their party with a gesture. Each in line tilted their head to listen. Frodo strained to hear but the sounds that came to his ears were indistinct. He would have dismissed them easily but their leader gave another silent signal which caused each dwarf to make axe and shield ready.
The events which followed happened too quickly for the hobbit to assimilate. A shower of arrows scattered among them causing the party to raise their shields in a united defense. The air filled with the deafening howls of the orcs who descended upon them from the path ahead.
The dwarves pressed around Frodo forcing him backwards through the tunnel. His instinct to join the fray drove him to feel for his sword before his conscious mind reminded him he had given it to another. He watched the battle helplessly as he realized these valiant dwarves were his only defense.
No. 'You are not helpless,' a familiar voice called to him. 'You are the most powerful being in the world.' Of its own volition, his hand reached for his pocket.
But fate had other plans for him. The ground shifted beneath his feet. He had only the briefest moment to cry out before the floor gave way entirely, dropping him to the darkness and uncertainty of the tunnel below.
* * *
Sally panted with every step as she trailed behind Boromir. Each breath was a raspy struggle to bring the stale cave air into her weary lungs. She had stopped speaking nearly an hour before. To speak and breathe had become too much of an effort for her.
Boromir stopped in a small cavern ahead of her and dropped his pack and weapons to the floor. "We will make camp here," he announced.
"Why?" Sally asked.
"Why?" he snorted in response. "Because you need rest."
She bent forward and leaned her hands on her knees. She shook her head. This was all the rest she wanted. "You said we were close," she argued, pulling herself upright. "I don't want to stop until we reach them."
Boromir stepped towards her and lifted his torch to illuminate her battered face. She could see him scrutinize her every feature and she tried to make herself look convincingly strong. He frowned at her effort. She had failed his inspection. "I don't like the sound of your breathing," he said at last.
Sally looked away guiltily. "I'm fine," she lied as she pulled in another wheezing breath. "I think my nose is broken," she offered as a weak excuse.
"It is broken," he confirmed. He turned back to his gear. "But your nose is not what concerns me, little one."
Suddenly, the stone walls that surrounded them shook. Although the sensation was everywhere, a rumbling sound issued from the path ahead of them. "What was that?" Sally asked in a harsh whisper. Her eyes had grown wide with fear.
"Orcs," he growled. "They've begun digging out the rock to make the tunnels weak. They set a trap and someone's fallen into it." He scooped up his shield and axe and abandoned the rest of his belongings as he returned to the trail.
He ran and Sally followed.
* * *
So much dust had settled at the collapse of the tunnel that hobbit blended almost too well with the surrounding rock. He laid very still with his face hidden behind his left arm. His mop of dark brown curls had turned gray with a layer of camouflaging dirt and the rest of him laid buried beneath the trail he once walked upon. Very little of his unconscious form remained visible to anyone who might look for him there. Had Frodo been able to see his predicament he might have despaired of his rescue.
Perhaps he had already despaired. Perhaps this unnatural sleep was his reaction, a self-imposed enchantment only to be broken at his will. In sleep, he could dream and surely in his dreams he could fare better than this.
"Mister Frodo?"
He could hear Sam calling to him, but his voice sounded strange. Higher. Not Sam.
Sally.
He dared to open his eyes. He moved his arm away from his face as he could feel the weight of the rocks leaving his small body. He couldn't believe what he saw. He had to still be dreaming.
"Sally.?"
She crouched before him amidst the broken rocks, peering down at him with concern. Her face was wet with tears and .blood? She had taken a beating. He reached up and touched her cheek to confirm her presence. She had been hurt.
But she was here. She was real and she was here. Together with him again.
"Stand ready, Master Samwise," a young dwarf called from behind her. Frodo recognized him vaguely as Woton's son. He had his axe and shield held ready to defend them. His eyes stared intently at the darkness ahead of him.
Sally turned in response. She spread her arms protectively over Frodo. "They're coming."
No. Not now. Not when everything is going to be alright again. Without another thought, Frodo reached for the Ring.
TBC
Author's Note: I didn't give this chapter my usual write-over, proofreading. I hope it doesn't show. The next chapter may take some time. I've planned for 15 to be a showstopper and that's going to take some dedication. It may also be extra long. I might break it up into two chapters but I won't post it until everything I have planned is written just the way I want it. Nothing but the best for you. In a way, guys it's going to be the beginning of the end. Only three chapters to go.
Chapter Fifteen: "The Mirror of the Soul"-A life is saved and a soul is lost. Also, Piper and Merrick's story comes to an end.