Disclaimer: AU Story. My second large fic because it gave me so much
pleasure writing the last. I do not own any of the characters or places in
this story- both belong to the genius, Tolkien. I know; I torture the
characters but I will do my very best to save them. Hope you enjoy!
MagicalRachel: Hooray! At long last! ..I know. I love the hobbits but the rest of the Fellowship needed a moment alone if you get my meaning. They are important too and I reckon that there are a fair share of big Legolas/Aragorn/Boromir/ (er, well, maybe not Gimli) fans out there.
Shirebound: Don't fret. Merry is definitely not blind. Just very disorientated and generally feeling pretty dire. "Frodo is ???" kinda sums up his predicament. He's in limbo right now. That's my way of saying he'll be coming into the next chapter. Hehe. I know. Lórien hasn't times like these - "since the dark ages". I'm evil, I'm evil *does little evil dance*
Quicky note to everyone: My novel (currently being read by publishers *big proud smile*) The Dogs are at War is now in my file and I was wondering if anyone thought I should upload it onto FF.net. It is set in 2007 when all dogs and cats have been thrown out to fend for themselves. Then the threat of war looms again and the dogs and cats must unite to stop it. I have finished the sequel and am working on the third book but I don't know. Do you guys want to read it?
~ Chapter Sixteen ~
Frodo saw blackness in his mind. Then two silver-washed eyes appeared before him. He gasped, instinctively groping for the chain round his neck. A hiss reverberated all around and suddenly, the eyes were gone. The darkness fell away to reveal a wide pool. It was bright blue with hints of green at the edges. A river snaked off from one side and mountains reared at the other. He was running towards it. He did not know why but it was so very important to get there before time ran out. The pool began to boil and froth and soon the clear waters turned a sooty black and fire leaped about it. The mountains swept down and engulfed the whole land around, locking Frodo in an impenetrable rocky cavern. Then the Ring was in his hand and he was throwing it away into the fire.
"Frodo."
The hobbit felt hands on him. Orc hands trying to pull him away. A Nazgul, astride a dragon-like creature, was swooping down into the pool. His clawed hand reached into the blaze and it brought out the Ring. Frodo screamed, struggling against the hands that held him back. He kicked and lashed out but the Black Rider was in the sky, holding the Ring aloft. It glittered dully in the smoke. Frodo yelled again, feeling tears pour down his face. Despair and disappointment welled in his heart. He tried calling to the rider but it refused to turn to him and on its winged steed, it rode upwards towards the peak of the cavern.
Frodo woke, drenched in perspiration and gasping for breath to find Boromir, Sam, Legolas, Gimli and Pippin standing before him. They were looking at him in terror but when Boromir saw he was awake, he gently lifted the hobbit into his arms and rocked him back and forth like a child.
"But," started Frodo, "But the rider.. and- and the fire. It didn't happen..?"
But he felt far too exhausted to continue. Everything hurt. The nightmares had seared into his mind and there was a heavy throbbing in all his limbs. His head was reeling now but he dared not close his eyes.
"It's alright, little one. There is no rider, there is no fire," Boromir said gently. When Frodo had relaxed a bit, he laid him carefully back onto the bed. Legolas stroked a hand through the damp, dark curls and knelt beside the bed while Sam did not hesitate in climbing onto the covers at his master's feet.
"Do you want us all to stay with you?" the elf asked. Frodo nodded feebly. Gimli growled under his breath.
"Don't you worry, Master Baggins, we'll fight off anything or anyone who enters this room!"
He was pleased to see the flickers of a smile on the hobbit's tired face. But just then, the door slammed open. Gimli, true to his word, started drawing his axe and the rest of them were so alarmed that they also lifted their weapons to the defence. Aragorn was standing in the doorway, soaking wet and gulping in air after his frantic climb up the staircase.
"We have him!" he cried, "We've got him!"
Frodo sat up in bed, apparently the only one who understood this statement.
"Ara-" he stopped, too weak. "Where?" he croaked.
"Lómelindë has him at her house. Oh, I shall explain later but right now, you all must come. Especially Frodo."
This last declaration was so determined that no one apart from Sam made a protest.
"Strider, he isn't going anywhere," he said stubbornly from his place on the bed, "Mister Frodo needs a lot of rest. And we can't leave Merry neither. Whatever it is, it can wait at least another few hours."
"No, no it cannot!" Aragorn cried. "Look, one of you stay here and look after Merry but the rest of you have to come. I will carry Frodo."
"No! No offence meant, Strider, but you know full well that Mister Frodo has had a rough time of it all. The last thing he needs is to be hauled down some stairs," Sam said adamantly. But Frodo was shaking his head.
"I.. need to see. It's important, Sam."
--
Sam, determined to keep his master safe, had to be coaxed into letting Frodo follow Aragorn. It was decided that Boromir and Pippin would stay with Merry, just in case he woke again. The company then wrapped Frodo in his coverlet and Aragorn carried him out into the clearing. The rain had abated for now but the sky sagged with bruised and angry looking clouds. In every direction there was not a patch of blue. Travelling would certainly have to be put off for now.
Frodo discovered during the descent that a bandage had been wound round his stomach and back. There was also a large swelling on his head that was sore to touch. He remembered having a large weight on his back and orcs flooding into the clearing. He had been terrified. But not for his friends or even for himself but for the Ring. He felt a pang of guilt when he reflected upon it. How selfish he had been! But then, what if the Ring really had fallen into enemy hands? He would have died then and there. It was a strange feeling. He remembered so much darkness, so many shadows engulfing him. An intolerable pain. And he was too tired to fight it. Too drained from grief and despair that he could not resist the voices calling to him. The wounds that burned him that flared that gone and he was young again, a child. And then the nightmares came back to him and he knew he was alive. It was his only real assurance. When the nightmares vanished, he would know that the quest had ended. Or, at least, his quest. And the blame of Gandalf's death weighed like stone on his shoulders. He had led them into Moria. He had been given that choice and he could have sent them on over Caradhas. What if- what if- what if. There was no sense in dwelling in the past. You could use the present and future to rectify it or try and make amends but you can never change what has been. There are so many things we would like to make different. Say something better, do something more skilfully or used more sense. But now only the future met Frodo Baggins like a wall looming up out of the mists. And there was no way of climbing over it or getting round it.
"Here we are. Now, all of you, inside. You will be amazed," Aragorn breathed when they reached Lómelindë's house. He knocked on the door and a screech ripped from somewhere within. There were hurried footsteps and then the door opened and the elf appeared before them.
"He is unstoppable," she exclaimed, letting them inside. All those except Frodo and Aragorn gaped at the sight that met their eyes. It was Gollum. He was tied to Lómelindë's bed by two lengths of elven rope and was thrashing about like a wild thing. The hunter had been hunted down.
~
Not very interesting but it is a break. I can't get the picture of Frodo in a dressing-gown out of my head!
MagicalRachel: Hooray! At long last! ..I know. I love the hobbits but the rest of the Fellowship needed a moment alone if you get my meaning. They are important too and I reckon that there are a fair share of big Legolas/Aragorn/Boromir/ (er, well, maybe not Gimli) fans out there.
Shirebound: Don't fret. Merry is definitely not blind. Just very disorientated and generally feeling pretty dire. "Frodo is ???" kinda sums up his predicament. He's in limbo right now. That's my way of saying he'll be coming into the next chapter. Hehe. I know. Lórien hasn't times like these - "since the dark ages". I'm evil, I'm evil *does little evil dance*
Quicky note to everyone: My novel (currently being read by publishers *big proud smile*) The Dogs are at War is now in my file and I was wondering if anyone thought I should upload it onto FF.net. It is set in 2007 when all dogs and cats have been thrown out to fend for themselves. Then the threat of war looms again and the dogs and cats must unite to stop it. I have finished the sequel and am working on the third book but I don't know. Do you guys want to read it?
~ Chapter Sixteen ~
Frodo saw blackness in his mind. Then two silver-washed eyes appeared before him. He gasped, instinctively groping for the chain round his neck. A hiss reverberated all around and suddenly, the eyes were gone. The darkness fell away to reveal a wide pool. It was bright blue with hints of green at the edges. A river snaked off from one side and mountains reared at the other. He was running towards it. He did not know why but it was so very important to get there before time ran out. The pool began to boil and froth and soon the clear waters turned a sooty black and fire leaped about it. The mountains swept down and engulfed the whole land around, locking Frodo in an impenetrable rocky cavern. Then the Ring was in his hand and he was throwing it away into the fire.
"Frodo."
The hobbit felt hands on him. Orc hands trying to pull him away. A Nazgul, astride a dragon-like creature, was swooping down into the pool. His clawed hand reached into the blaze and it brought out the Ring. Frodo screamed, struggling against the hands that held him back. He kicked and lashed out but the Black Rider was in the sky, holding the Ring aloft. It glittered dully in the smoke. Frodo yelled again, feeling tears pour down his face. Despair and disappointment welled in his heart. He tried calling to the rider but it refused to turn to him and on its winged steed, it rode upwards towards the peak of the cavern.
Frodo woke, drenched in perspiration and gasping for breath to find Boromir, Sam, Legolas, Gimli and Pippin standing before him. They were looking at him in terror but when Boromir saw he was awake, he gently lifted the hobbit into his arms and rocked him back and forth like a child.
"But," started Frodo, "But the rider.. and- and the fire. It didn't happen..?"
But he felt far too exhausted to continue. Everything hurt. The nightmares had seared into his mind and there was a heavy throbbing in all his limbs. His head was reeling now but he dared not close his eyes.
"It's alright, little one. There is no rider, there is no fire," Boromir said gently. When Frodo had relaxed a bit, he laid him carefully back onto the bed. Legolas stroked a hand through the damp, dark curls and knelt beside the bed while Sam did not hesitate in climbing onto the covers at his master's feet.
"Do you want us all to stay with you?" the elf asked. Frodo nodded feebly. Gimli growled under his breath.
"Don't you worry, Master Baggins, we'll fight off anything or anyone who enters this room!"
He was pleased to see the flickers of a smile on the hobbit's tired face. But just then, the door slammed open. Gimli, true to his word, started drawing his axe and the rest of them were so alarmed that they also lifted their weapons to the defence. Aragorn was standing in the doorway, soaking wet and gulping in air after his frantic climb up the staircase.
"We have him!" he cried, "We've got him!"
Frodo sat up in bed, apparently the only one who understood this statement.
"Ara-" he stopped, too weak. "Where?" he croaked.
"Lómelindë has him at her house. Oh, I shall explain later but right now, you all must come. Especially Frodo."
This last declaration was so determined that no one apart from Sam made a protest.
"Strider, he isn't going anywhere," he said stubbornly from his place on the bed, "Mister Frodo needs a lot of rest. And we can't leave Merry neither. Whatever it is, it can wait at least another few hours."
"No, no it cannot!" Aragorn cried. "Look, one of you stay here and look after Merry but the rest of you have to come. I will carry Frodo."
"No! No offence meant, Strider, but you know full well that Mister Frodo has had a rough time of it all. The last thing he needs is to be hauled down some stairs," Sam said adamantly. But Frodo was shaking his head.
"I.. need to see. It's important, Sam."
--
Sam, determined to keep his master safe, had to be coaxed into letting Frodo follow Aragorn. It was decided that Boromir and Pippin would stay with Merry, just in case he woke again. The company then wrapped Frodo in his coverlet and Aragorn carried him out into the clearing. The rain had abated for now but the sky sagged with bruised and angry looking clouds. In every direction there was not a patch of blue. Travelling would certainly have to be put off for now.
Frodo discovered during the descent that a bandage had been wound round his stomach and back. There was also a large swelling on his head that was sore to touch. He remembered having a large weight on his back and orcs flooding into the clearing. He had been terrified. But not for his friends or even for himself but for the Ring. He felt a pang of guilt when he reflected upon it. How selfish he had been! But then, what if the Ring really had fallen into enemy hands? He would have died then and there. It was a strange feeling. He remembered so much darkness, so many shadows engulfing him. An intolerable pain. And he was too tired to fight it. Too drained from grief and despair that he could not resist the voices calling to him. The wounds that burned him that flared that gone and he was young again, a child. And then the nightmares came back to him and he knew he was alive. It was his only real assurance. When the nightmares vanished, he would know that the quest had ended. Or, at least, his quest. And the blame of Gandalf's death weighed like stone on his shoulders. He had led them into Moria. He had been given that choice and he could have sent them on over Caradhas. What if- what if- what if. There was no sense in dwelling in the past. You could use the present and future to rectify it or try and make amends but you can never change what has been. There are so many things we would like to make different. Say something better, do something more skilfully or used more sense. But now only the future met Frodo Baggins like a wall looming up out of the mists. And there was no way of climbing over it or getting round it.
"Here we are. Now, all of you, inside. You will be amazed," Aragorn breathed when they reached Lómelindë's house. He knocked on the door and a screech ripped from somewhere within. There were hurried footsteps and then the door opened and the elf appeared before them.
"He is unstoppable," she exclaimed, letting them inside. All those except Frodo and Aragorn gaped at the sight that met their eyes. It was Gollum. He was tied to Lómelindë's bed by two lengths of elven rope and was thrashing about like a wild thing. The hunter had been hunted down.
~
Not very interesting but it is a break. I can't get the picture of Frodo in a dressing-gown out of my head!