The Difference
by Leafy
Rating: PG-13 for violence, bad attitudes, and tense situations.
Author's Note: This fanfic is loosely inspired by an episode of the television show "Deep Space Nine", and is much more drawn from the movie of FOTR, than the book, though there are elements of both in here.
I hope you enjoy it!
Disclaimer: I own nothing Tolkien or DS9.
Responses to all my wonderful reviewers:
Enigma Jade: Thanks! I'm happy you think this is exciting. Wait'll you see what's in store, this chapter. Major plot twists! Thanks again!:o)
Europa: I wanted to apologize for missing commenting on your review last time. I read it, and thought I'd commented on all of them, but realized that I'd missed you just before I got your new review. Sorry! Anyway, I did read it, and it was good to read. Thank you! :o) And, in response to your new review, yes, Sam imprisoned is hard to believe, but it will be explained better in this chapter. :o) Thanks for the reviews!
Marissa: Hello!! You're back! Very glad!! Okay, so, responding to your questions: What is the "alternative" the guards spoke of? You'll find out, not in this chapter, but soon. Why is everyone so touchy? You'll find out. Why doesn't anybody recognize Lego? You'll find out. "Lord Frodo"? Uhm…::nervously eyes the formidable-looking muses congregating behind Marissa:: :o)…I'd better not say. Thank you for the review, it was wonderful! :o) Hope you're liking this! (And trust me, you will find out everything, eventually! :o))
Ecri: Aww, shucks. :o) Thanks so much, your review was very kind, great to read. Did you know, you are the first person ever to comment on something Merry has done, in either of my stories? :o) Pretty cool, huh? I'm glad you're liking this! Thanks!
Onward!
* * *
Chapter 4
'Much Discussion'
Aragorn sat in a dingy corner of the cell, nursing a hand that had been sliced painfully deep across the top, in his imprisonment. He and the others had resisted, of course, though in vain. They were now all imprisoned, in the dank stone underbelly of the wooden structure. The building had not looked very formidable on the outside, the mud-mortar giving it the appearance that a particularly drawn-out thunderstorm might bring it down. The prison underneath was a different story.
It was made entirely of stone, from the floor, to the walls, to the ceiling. There were no windows and an impassible door where bars should have been, so there was subsequently very little light. It was only when their eyes had adjusted to the dimness that the fellowship could see anything at all.
Not that there was much to see in the cell. There was nothing to sit on but the floor, nothing at all in the cell, aside from a few small rocks, scattered about on the floor, which only made finding a comfortable place to sit, difficult.
The only fortunate thing about their new environment was that it was very large, so none of them bumped into each other as they settled, blinded by the darkness, into their own areas of the cell, to nurse their wounds and mull the new situation over.
"What do we do now?" asked Frodo, at length.
Aragorn was silent. He honestly didn't know, though he didn't want to admit it. If he admitted that he could see no solution, no way to escape, surely this would do nothing but destroy whatever hope any of them might still retain.
"We'll have to wait until they open that door again," Aragorn said finally. "Or, perhaps we can find a way out elsewhere, in a wall--"
"There is no secret way out," an unfamiliar voice said suddenly. "There is no way out at all."
Aragorn started, looking off into the darkness, toward the voice.
"Who are you?" he demanded.
He heard someone stir at these words, getting up at the far wall slowly, as if they'd been sitting for a long time. Aragorn rose defensively.
As the figure approached him, Aragorn could see that it was rather short. Drawing nearer, its face became distinguishable, and he recognized it as the face of the unconscious Elf he'd seen back in the clearing, dragged away by Norgeth.
"Don't worry," Emblethor said, looking with true camaraderie at Aragorn. "I won't hurt you, even if I could."
"What are you doing here?" Aragorn asked, a bit more relaxed, now.
"Who are you?" Merry interrupted, standing up blindly.
"Emblethor," Aragorn and Emblethor said simultaneously.
"The Elf that I told you was captured," Aragorn continued, looking off in the hobbit's direction.
"Yes," Merry responded, recalling Norgeth's words back up at the court. "I remember now."
Aragorn redirected his attention to the Elf.
"Norgeth put me here," Emblethor began. "Norgeth--you've met him?"
"Yes," said Aragorn quickly, not wanting any further description of the nefarious being, at the moment.
"He put me here," Emblethor continued. "You see, he knows about the Ruling Ring. He knows your friend has it--"
"Who?" Aragorn interrupted. "Which friend?"
"The Elf," Emblethor replied, as if it should be obvious. "Legolas."
"Legolas doesn't have the Ring," Frodo said suddenly, despairingly. "I--" he paused, faltering. "We don't know where it is, now."
"Don't you?" Emblethor looked a bit skeptically at Frodo, who shrank back, though he couldn't see the Elf's expression very well. "That won't be well for your friend, when Norgeth finds out. It won't be well for any of you."
"I don't know that Legolas has to worry about that any longer," Frodo responded with soft sadness.
"Where is he?" Emblethor asked, coming closer to the hobbit.
Frodo looked toward Aragorn for help.
"He was--claimed," the ranger responded. "By some evil magic. A light--"
"From the flask?" Emblethor interrupted him.
"Yes," Aragorn said, looking at the Elf with surprise. "Do you know what it was?"
"Yes," Emblethor responded, looking down at the floor with a bit of shame. "It was a healing portal. I made it."
"You made it?" Aragorn exclaimed, further shocked. "Why?"
"It was for you," Emblethor said softly, not looking up. "To get rid of the rest of you, so that Norgeth would have no trouble getting to the Ring."
"So, Legolas is dead?" Frodo barely managed to speak the statement, his eyes welling up.
"No," said Emblethor quickly. "The portal I made--a healing portal, more specifically--doesn't kill those who are claimed by it. It transports them to a different, often dangerous reality, from the one they live in. But the transfer cannot kill them. In fact, it does quite the opposite. It rejuvenates them, hence the name. And, they'll need their strength, to survive wherever they've been placed."
"If you did this," Aragorn stated as the Elf finished, "if you were helping Norgeth get rid of us, what are you doing here?"
Emblethor looked back up at Aragorn.
"I wasn't helping him," he said. "There is a different kind of portal, one that is lethal on transport, that he wanted me to make for you. I didn't want to kill you though, so I made the healing portal instead. It looked very much like the one he wanted, and I hoped he wouldn't notice the difference. But he did."
"And that is what you were quarreling about," Gandalf stated softly from his corner.
"If you could call it a quarrel," Emblethor smiled a bit in the direction of the wizard. "I'm no match for Norgeth."
"But you know magic, and he does not," said Gandalf, drawing the flask from the clearing, again ignored by the enemy, from inside cloak. He held it out to the Elf, smiling.
Emblethor came forward, reaching out for the flask. He smiled as well, as he pulled out the stopper and put his hand over the opening in the top. Almost instantly, the round glass body of the bottle began to glow, filling with a harmless, helpful light. Emblethor replaced the stopper, setting the flask in the center of the cell, evenly dispersing the light so that everyone could much better see their surroundings.
"So, Emblethor," Gandalf continued, both hearty and respectful, "do you know a way to reverse the portal that has claimed our Elven comrade?"
"Yes," Emblethor responded, pleasant but hesitant. "Though, to bring Legolas back, I will need something of him."
"What do you mean?" asked Frodo.
"Something of his physical self," Emblethor explained. "Blood, or hair, or something of that nature."
At the mention of hair, Aragorn immediately remembered the light little patch of strands that he'd seen on the floor, seemingly all that was left of Legolas. And he remembered the braid at the center, pristinely woven, but lopped off at one end, then snatched up by the calloused hands of Norgeth, who dangled it before him like a piece of meat was dangled before a hungry dog.
"I know where we can find something," Aragorn said, narrowing his eyes at the memory.
**********
Sam looked suspiciously at Legolas, at the mention of his name. He glanced down, wiping his hand on his ragged, filthy clothes, then looked back up at Legolas.
"Who are you?" he asked with quiet dislike.
"You don't know me?" Legolas was surprised. "I'm Legolas, your comrade in the fellowship."
As he said these words, Legolas realized that this might not help explain who he was, as it had become obvious to him that this was either some place in the future Middle-Earth, or it was an entirely different dimension of Middle-Earth, one where, perhaps, the fellowship had never existed.
"You can't be," Sam said tonelessly, turning away and heading back to his corner. "Legolas is dead."
Legolas stood silent, his mouth slightly open, unable to speak for shock at this news.
"But--," he said finally, "but, I'm here."
"That doesn't make you Legolas," Sam responded, sitting down to face the Elf. "I saw Legolas die."
"That doesn't make me dead," Legolas said tentatively, sitting down also, as he was growing tired of bending over.
Sam had no response to this. He looked away, off toward the wall of the small, dark cell.
"What are you doing here, anyway?" he asked, finally.
"Trespassing," Legolas responded vaguely, his mind now on other things. "What about you? After I heard of Lord Frodo, you became the last one I'd expect to find here."
Sam looked slightly pained at the mention of Frodo's name.
"Yes," he said heavily. "He's just full of surprises."
"Why were you put here?" Legolas asked again, gently.
Sam blinked hard, still not meeting his eye.
"It's a long tale to tell," he mumbled.
"I've got time," Legolas patiently responded.
Sam paused, seeming both to be considering and remembering.
"I suppose you know about the Ring," he said eventually.
"I know of it," said Legolas. "But, judging by what I know of this place, perhaps you should tell me what happened to it."
Sam grunted.
"Frodo kept it," he muttered. "He tried to destroy it once, with the fellowship, which you seem to know of. Then, suddenly, he changed his mind. He said that he believed evil wouldn't be destroyed, if we got rid of the Ring. He said that new, greater evil would only surface, too great for us to annihilate. He said that we should keep the ring, and wield it. His argument was that, if we were the ones in power, we could keep enemies at bay, totally preventing a greater threat. He said he'd had a revelation. But he was lying," Sam broke off then, shuddering back the tears, and the painful memories.
Legolas leaned forward a bit, shocked by what he'd heard and saddened by what he saw.
"What do you mean?"
"He changed his mind because Legolas was dead, and he felt responsible," Sam spoke clearly now, and angrily, looking Legolas straight in the eye. "He gave up."
Legolas started back. He was stunned speechless, unable to think of what to ask Sam first. Some many bewildered questions were floating in his mind now.
"Why—did Frodo blame himself for Legolas' death?" Legolas asked after a pause.
Sam looked at the floor.
"Because he died battling a band of orcs, who were tracking us because of the Ring. He got between Frodo and an orc-spear," Sam whispered, tears dropping silently down his face, dotting the dusty floor.
Legolas was silent.
"I suppose he felt worse, because Legolas was a stranger to him, before the quest. If it hadn't been for the Ring, he wouldn't have died," Sam continued softly. "But Frodo didn't see it that way. Frodo thought that, if it hadn't been for him, Legolas wouldn't have died."
"But then—" Legolas asked, "why did he not see fit to destroy the Ring?"
"I don't know!" Sam burst out, not angry, but sad, and exasperated with the eternal question. "I think he just gave up, gave in to the Ring. He began to act as if he had, as we traveled, not back to Rivendell, but over the Misty Mountains, at his command. He became distrustful of everyone, desolate…and he began shouting at me angrily, whenever I spoke to him," Sam looked up at Legolas. "Understand, I still said that he should destroy the Ring. The others had given up trying to convince him long ago, perhaps beginning to be affected by the Ring, as well. And, with Gandalf gone—"
"Why was Gandalf gone?" Legolas asked suddenly, alarmed.
"He disappeared, after it became clear what was happening to Frodo. I thought he was going to get help—Elves, or more wizards, or something—but he never returned. After we stopped, at the base of the Mountains, and it became known what Frodo had done, there were great battles for the Ring, battles which eventually destroyed Saruman, and seemed to have destroyed Sauron, or at least weakened him into submission. The battles never involved Frodo, or any of those who decided to follow him, but the greater enemies, trying to get rid of each other, before pursuing the Ring. It was in this time that most believed that Frodo really knew what he was doing. But I didn't. I never believed it. I should have left Middle-Earth, like so many were doing, going over the sea, but I stayed," Sam made a choking noise then. "I wanted to stay with Frodo. I wanted to help him. But, the more I tried, the less it seemed to help. Frodo grew to hate me," he ended on a quiet note, staring down at his feet.
"That's why you're here," Legolas said.
"Yes," Sam said. "And here, I won't mind staying."
He looked back up at Legolas, studying him, searching his face.
"Who are you, really?" he asked.
Legolas opened his mouth to make the obvious response once more, but then closed his mouth, looking back toward the sealed-up hatch he'd been ordered to climb through.
"I'm lost," he replied.
~~End of Part 4