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!
Tiggivon: So pleased that you are still enjoying this! Your comments mean a lot to me.
A Elbereth: Hehe. Thanks. I like getting Frodo feeling groggy. My special scene is coming up in the next chapter, which I am very proud of. I hope it doesn't reflect too much on the last chapter of Lost in Moria as there is a lot of Legolas and Frodo in it.
This is definitely my favourite chapter to date. I hope that others feel the same way.
~ Chapter Eighteen ~
"Ash nazg durbatulûk.."
The voice was so clear in his head. It thrummed and beat in his ears, numbing every other sense but fear. Frodo no longer knew what he was running from. He just ran. Up the staircase, passing to another then down and into another clearing. The voices followed him. Gollum's howl of pain echoed in his mind and the sight of the Ring, a wheel of flame, before his eyes. Blinded by tears and visions, he stumbled and went tumbling down and down and down the stairway. Sting flew from his grasp and there was a thud as it embedded itself in a tree. The little hobbit fell further and faster until something hard caught him full-force in the stomach and he almost blacked out. He curled up around the projection and began to sob, trying in vain to block out the terrible vociferation that shook every fibre of his being.
"Gandalf!" he screamed. Tears filled his mouth and he just lay there, shivering in the rain.
--
Aragorn and Gimli headed down while Sam and Legolas went up. They searched on every canopy talan but Frodo was no where to be found.
"Let us split up," said Legolas, "Not far apart but we will cover a little more ground that way."
The hobbit and elf parted ways and Sam moved down the stairs quickly, calling his Frodo's name. But there was a gnawing fear that he might jump out at him. He could not bear to confront his own master. It would be too much. Gulping in fear, he shouted again in a shuddering voice. Rain pattered all around in thin grey streaks that cast Lórien into a shadow. It nearly obscured his vision completely. Sam moved down level after level until he had almost reached the ground. Before a word could pass his lips, he caught sight of something in the tree. It was Sting, its blade half buried into the bark, looking like a signpost pointing to the South. The hobbit shuddered. Was this an omen? That the sword should fall pointing in such a sinister direction. But how did it come to be there in the first place?
"Frodo must've run into trouble," he said to himself as he ran down a flight of steps. There, he climbed onto the handrail and gripped Sting's hilt tightly. Taking a deep breath, he pulled hard at it. It moved a little and then started jiggling it up and down until it became free. The muscles tensed in his arm and then it came free, sending him flying back onto the steps.
"I hope that trouble weren't Gollum," he finished. He got to his feet, brushed himself off and then moved on down.
The rain came down in a torrent now and Sam almost had to fight his way through it. The landscape seemed to melt, like a painting that slides off the canvas. White blurred with green and brown. The hobbit heard something under his foot crunch and he knew he had reached the ground once more. He waded through the leaves, still calling for Frodo. Quite unexpectedly, there was an answer. It was a very small and frightened voice and Sam could not make out any words but it had come from somewhere close by. He turned round in circles, looking out for a figure in the rain. His feet were numbing with standing in the gradually rising water so he started moving again.
"Mister Frodo, I can hear you but I can't see you!" he yelled, pulling his hair back from his eyes.
"Sam! Oh, Sam, where are you?" came the pleading reply. He sounded so very afraid. Sam saw him at last, a bundle of white clinging to a tree root. He ran across, stumbling on the last stretch and falling to his knees beside his master. Frodo's eyes were screwed shut and he had a vice-like grip on the tuber but at the splash beside him, he looked up. Sam saw how very pale and thin he was; so tattered and worn.
"It's alright, Frodo. Your Sam's here now."
Frodo was barely awake. But he gave his friend one last final smile before he passed out. Sam sheathed the blade through his belt then collected the figure into his arms and began making his way back up to find Legolas. He dreaded to imagine what had happened to his master. He did not dare think what it felt like to keep changing from one person to another. Someone always fighting inside you to get out. An evil someone, who you knew you could not let out or otherwise you would hurt your friends and yourself too. Not being able to tell if what you felt was real or just yet more lies of your heart.
--
Gollum watched Sam carry Frodo up towards the chamber. He hissed under his breath as he tore at the rope again. It finally came loose and fluttered to the ground far belong. But there was no relief. Only burning hatred. Only a yearning for his beloved Ring deep within him. But a feeling of sorrow too. He knew what it was like to fall. To lie in the rain, all alone. Nobody had come for him, he thought with a snarl. But his anger softened to grief. After he had killed Deagol, he had run away. Not looking where he was going. Only terror at what he had done. And he had tumbled had over heels down a hill and there he had lain, weeping and sobbing until he felt that his insides had dried up. Deagol, his most loyal friend, had not come for him. If he had not killed him. Then- then maybe he would be as lucky as Baggins was. It was a blessing to have such a friend. Gollum only wished he had known that at the time. But now he was lonely. Eternally lonely.
Tiggivon: So pleased that you are still enjoying this! Your comments mean a lot to me.
A Elbereth: Hehe. Thanks. I like getting Frodo feeling groggy. My special scene is coming up in the next chapter, which I am very proud of. I hope it doesn't reflect too much on the last chapter of Lost in Moria as there is a lot of Legolas and Frodo in it.
This is definitely my favourite chapter to date. I hope that others feel the same way.
~ Chapter Eighteen ~
"Ash nazg durbatulûk.."
The voice was so clear in his head. It thrummed and beat in his ears, numbing every other sense but fear. Frodo no longer knew what he was running from. He just ran. Up the staircase, passing to another then down and into another clearing. The voices followed him. Gollum's howl of pain echoed in his mind and the sight of the Ring, a wheel of flame, before his eyes. Blinded by tears and visions, he stumbled and went tumbling down and down and down the stairway. Sting flew from his grasp and there was a thud as it embedded itself in a tree. The little hobbit fell further and faster until something hard caught him full-force in the stomach and he almost blacked out. He curled up around the projection and began to sob, trying in vain to block out the terrible vociferation that shook every fibre of his being.
"Gandalf!" he screamed. Tears filled his mouth and he just lay there, shivering in the rain.
--
Aragorn and Gimli headed down while Sam and Legolas went up. They searched on every canopy talan but Frodo was no where to be found.
"Let us split up," said Legolas, "Not far apart but we will cover a little more ground that way."
The hobbit and elf parted ways and Sam moved down the stairs quickly, calling his Frodo's name. But there was a gnawing fear that he might jump out at him. He could not bear to confront his own master. It would be too much. Gulping in fear, he shouted again in a shuddering voice. Rain pattered all around in thin grey streaks that cast Lórien into a shadow. It nearly obscured his vision completely. Sam moved down level after level until he had almost reached the ground. Before a word could pass his lips, he caught sight of something in the tree. It was Sting, its blade half buried into the bark, looking like a signpost pointing to the South. The hobbit shuddered. Was this an omen? That the sword should fall pointing in such a sinister direction. But how did it come to be there in the first place?
"Frodo must've run into trouble," he said to himself as he ran down a flight of steps. There, he climbed onto the handrail and gripped Sting's hilt tightly. Taking a deep breath, he pulled hard at it. It moved a little and then started jiggling it up and down until it became free. The muscles tensed in his arm and then it came free, sending him flying back onto the steps.
"I hope that trouble weren't Gollum," he finished. He got to his feet, brushed himself off and then moved on down.
The rain came down in a torrent now and Sam almost had to fight his way through it. The landscape seemed to melt, like a painting that slides off the canvas. White blurred with green and brown. The hobbit heard something under his foot crunch and he knew he had reached the ground once more. He waded through the leaves, still calling for Frodo. Quite unexpectedly, there was an answer. It was a very small and frightened voice and Sam could not make out any words but it had come from somewhere close by. He turned round in circles, looking out for a figure in the rain. His feet were numbing with standing in the gradually rising water so he started moving again.
"Mister Frodo, I can hear you but I can't see you!" he yelled, pulling his hair back from his eyes.
"Sam! Oh, Sam, where are you?" came the pleading reply. He sounded so very afraid. Sam saw him at last, a bundle of white clinging to a tree root. He ran across, stumbling on the last stretch and falling to his knees beside his master. Frodo's eyes were screwed shut and he had a vice-like grip on the tuber but at the splash beside him, he looked up. Sam saw how very pale and thin he was; so tattered and worn.
"It's alright, Frodo. Your Sam's here now."
Frodo was barely awake. But he gave his friend one last final smile before he passed out. Sam sheathed the blade through his belt then collected the figure into his arms and began making his way back up to find Legolas. He dreaded to imagine what had happened to his master. He did not dare think what it felt like to keep changing from one person to another. Someone always fighting inside you to get out. An evil someone, who you knew you could not let out or otherwise you would hurt your friends and yourself too. Not being able to tell if what you felt was real or just yet more lies of your heart.
--
Gollum watched Sam carry Frodo up towards the chamber. He hissed under his breath as he tore at the rope again. It finally came loose and fluttered to the ground far belong. But there was no relief. Only burning hatred. Only a yearning for his beloved Ring deep within him. But a feeling of sorrow too. He knew what it was like to fall. To lie in the rain, all alone. Nobody had come for him, he thought with a snarl. But his anger softened to grief. After he had killed Deagol, he had run away. Not looking where he was going. Only terror at what he had done. And he had tumbled had over heels down a hill and there he had lain, weeping and sobbing until he felt that his insides had dried up. Deagol, his most loyal friend, had not come for him. If he had not killed him. Then- then maybe he would be as lucky as Baggins was. It was a blessing to have such a friend. Gollum only wished he had known that at the time. But now he was lonely. Eternally lonely.