DISCLAIMER: I only own here the cringe-worthy idea of mixing celebrities and their fictional characters in with a SERIOUS story. Apart from that, all characters and places, I disclaim.
A/N: A few reviews already. Thanks for your time!
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Frodo yelled as loud as he could, in hope that maybe one of the Fellowship might have wandered too, but a strong hand clamped his mouth shut as he was wrestled to the ground. Sting lay three feet to the side of him; he'd dropped it in terror, and could not reach for it now.
"Shut it hobbit, or you'll know what's coming when it greets you right in the eye!"
He tapped the Morgul Blade on the hilt to indicate to Frodo. This man, Orli, stuffed a dirtied rag into Frodo's mouth and wrapped him tightly in his own Elven cloak. He fastened one side of Frodo's Elven broach to his cloak, and then searched for wherever else to pin it.
Telling from the smirk as an idea came to him, it was obvious it was not something that wouldn't hurt him. Orli forced the pin of the brooch through the skin of the upper side of Frodo's hand, and pushed it upwards so that it pierced the skin on the other side. A muffled cry came from Frodo as the pain shot up his arm like an arrow and hacked into his shoulder blade like an axe. Orli clasped the brooch shut, and leaned forward to admire his 'handiwork', ironically.
"There. We won't dare to move, will we?" A satisfied Orli smiled at Frodo.
"Aragorn will HAVE YOU for this!" Frodo cried as he struggled against the unbearable pain.
"Aragorn," His eyes flashed dangerously. "We'll have to have a little chat with him soon, won't we just?"
"What?" Frodo was confused. He… knew Aragorn? Frodo thought as Orli picked him up around his middle and carried him to the boat, like a parcel.
"Oh you won't understand, halfling. We go way back, way back..." Orli sniggered to himself as they approached the river. There in the clearing was a small boat, one that he had probably stolen from the other Fellowship. Yes, he could just spot Sam's piece of silver Elven rope. He flinched as Orli carelessly threw him into the boat like some piece of unneeded luggage, then jumped in himself and started rowing away swiftly, down the River Anduin.
"Meanwhile, before the rest of the cretins I suppose you'll be travelling with catch up, we'll have some fun, won't we? Yeah… just you and me…" Orli said quietly: almost to himself in fact, as he pushed out the boat and jumped on board as it rocked dangerously. Frodo didn't know what that meant, but it didn't sound good, and he closed his eyes in despair, and to fight the pain in his hand. He heard Orli speak.
"You don't know what it's like, being surrounded by people that practically worship people like you... you wouldn't know, it's like- like drowning..."
It was confusing; one moment Orli's a menace and the next... this had to be for a purpose, not necessarily an enjoyable one either. But for now, Frodo began to see a side for which he felt empathy for, even if it was a pathetic case, which he dare not speak aloud. It was some time before Frodo realised Orli has stopped rowing, and was floating down the river.
"Wh-where are we going?" Frodo asked quietly.
"No where, for now," Orli turned around in the boat, to face Frodo, looking dangerously calm again, but fidgeting slightly.
"Now, let's see…" He lifted Frodo and turned him around in the boat, to find the brooch. He took it off of the cloak carefully, but when it came to Frodo's wrist… he forced the needle upwards and breaking the skin completely in a long line of blood that appeared almost instantly. Frodo shrieked as the pain renewed itself once again, and he felt his arm go numb, knowing that the cold wasn't helping. Orli unwrapped the cloak that was tightly bound around him and sat the dazed hobbit up in the boat, but pinned his arms to his sides and lifted him once again.
"Now. Now you can see what it's like: literally, physically," Frodo remained confused, but still, this was not good, "Like drowning."
With that, Orli threw Frodo out of the boat before he barely had time to realise what he meant, but held onto his ankles and pushed his head down into the cold. Frodo kicked and splashed with all his might. The salt water seeped into the wound in his wrist, causing it to sting with an unbearable agony as he thrashed in the freezing water until his lungs burst. His energy had left him, and he hung limp, Orli still clasping his ankles.
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The Fellowship were resting silently at Amon Hen. Most had fallen asleep, apart from a bored Sam, who was tapping his foot and frowning at the steadily amplifying snores of Pippin and Merry. Gimli, who was left to watch across the Western Shore, grumbled under his breath and sincerely wished he hadn't protested at Aragorn's order of resting. Suddenly, Sam fidgeted, glancing around and noticed that the corner where Frodo was meant to be sleeping was guarded from view with a shield. Sam leant forward and pulled at the heavy armour. It fell forward onto dust. There was no Frodo. He jumped up and looked about himself.
"...where's Mr. Frodo?" he asked Gimli. Gimli shrugged. Sam began to call his name. No answer. His face became full of concern. Soon the whole Fellowship were unsettled, and they began a search for him.
Aragorn, as rangers do, found some small, light foot prints in the soil, most definitely that of a hobbit. He followed them closely, until he saw that larger, heavier footprints were paced behind the footprints, then a gap, then a mixture of footprints pacing out in many directions, as if a scuffle had taken place. Finally, just the large prints remained, heading toward the bank, where they stopped at the water. On the floor was a small box.
Aragorn called the fellowship, and together they inspected the box. It was a small, black wooden box, small in stature and painted in black.
"What's inside it? Are there any clues?" Sam waited anxiously. Aragorn peered at it, but left it closed. No finger-marks...
"Well… open it then!" Gimli cried impatiently.
"Oh- just give it here!" Legolas snatched the box from Aragorn. Everyone stared at Legolas, shocked at his outburst as he inspected the contents. Inside was a large mess of torn up paper and a note; the note read-
'Cretins,
Where's your halfling now? Don't bother looking, you'll never find him. He will be DESTROYED. Ha!
Your loving friend, Orli. XxX'
"Oh… eru…" Legolas turned to Aragorn and said something in Elvish. Aragorn gasped and quickly took the note and read it for himself. Pippin, who did not understand fully what this meant, said loudly, "what else is in the box?" cheerfully as Legolas peered into it.
"It's… it's… some kind of puzzle." He took the torn pieces of paper, and positioned them into a picture.
It was a drawn picture of Frodo, with a large, red cross stabbed over him.
"Oh, my-" Legolas dropped the box in shock, but then ran towards the shore. The fellowship stared at each other in total bewilderment, until they heard a voice call back.
"ONE OF THE BOATS ARE GONE!" then Legolas cursed in Elvish.
He pushed out yet another boat and set off down the Anduin. Only Aragorn knew what was to happen, but he ushered the fellowship into the rest of the boats and told them to follow, with a 'what's going on?' from Pippin ever now and then.
The only noise was a slight splashing on the river, and the sound of Sam choking and snuffling as the night greeted them.
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A/N: That's it for Chapter Two! More coming soon, I promise you.