Title: Nice Hobbit

Author: Anemone Frost

Email: Weepingwillow987@aol.com

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Frodo, believing that Sam has perished, reluctantly continues the journey with Gollum. In the meantime, Sam finds himself on the other end of the Dead Marshes, and races to catch back up with Frodo.

Feedback: Yes, please.

Warnings: Angst

Archive: Ask first.

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Tolkien.



Frodo slowly woke to a stabbing pain coursing through his skull. Groaning, he rubbed at his forehead, and slowly rose to a sitting position. The ends of his trousers were drenched, dripping muck, and he gazed around in confusion. He remembered gazing into the water, entranced by the dead faces that stared up at him. Their soft, enticing calls still echoed within his mind. The terror came back to him, and he recalled wanting to back away, but his body betrayed him. His feet moved against his will, and he was forced to walk to the water's edge, but someone had grabbed him, and attempted to pull him away. Sam. Then everything had gone dark. Where was the other hobbit? Frodo glanced around wildly, but only found Gollum smiling at him.


"Where is Sam?" Frodo asked.


Gollum lowered his head, and a sad frown appeared. "The hobbit tried to pull you out, but you were too strong. So, Smeagol helped, but by the time we gots there, you shoved him. He fell into the deep water, and disappeared below the dark surface. We could not save him, no. We had to get you out."


"No, that can't be," Frodo stuttered, on the verge of tears.


It seemed impossible that he could do such a thing, but at the same time, he couldn't doubt it. There had been many times where he was tempted to end Sam's life due to the power of the Ring. He never thought he would actually go through with it. He had always caught himself, and stopped before anything got too out of hand. Then, other images slowly came back to him. Sam was in front of him near the water, and then he was shoved hard below the surface, sending water splashing in every direction. Sorrow, shame, and guilt clouded over his mind. How could he have done such a thing to his dear Sam? He suddenly felt very sick, and bile rose in his throat.


Crying out, Frodo scrambled to the water, trying to wade in and somehow retrieve the younger hobbit. Gollum was on him in an instant, wrapping his strong arms around Frodo's waist, and tugging him back to land. Frodo spat out curses, and lashed wildly to break free. His eyes stung bitterly, and tears seeped down. He was sobbing now.


"Please, let me go!" Frodo wailed. "I must reach him! I must find him!"


"You mustn't!" Gollum spat, tightening his hold. "The lights will get you! The lights got the other hobbit!"


"No!" Frodo screamed, tearing and pounding at the creature's arms, but he could not break free. "I will not leave him down there! I can't leave him alone!"


"Hobbit is gone!" Gollum yelled, shaking Frodo hard. "Nothing can be done now! If you go in, you will be lost, along with the Precious!" His voice grew low, almost menacing. "And we can't allow the master to lose the Precious. No."


Gollum released Frodo from his harsh hold, allowing the hobbit to crumble in a wretched, sobbing heap. Frodo griped at his hair, and then pounded his clenched fists into the ground. He couldn't believe this was happening. Sam was dead, and it was his fault. He had killed Sam; his own, precious Sam. The hobbit that had remained loyal, and had always kept a watchful, caring eye on him, was lost forever. Frodo crawled near the edge of the water, and gazed down into the shadowy depths, hoping in vain to see some sign of the hobbit. There was nothing, even the dead faces had vanished, leaving a dark void. The water rippled as Frodo's tears dropped down.


"Oh, Sam, what have I done?" Frodo wept. "Forgive me! I never meant to hurt you! I never meant for this to be your fate! Oh Sam! Forgive me! Forgive me!"


His cries grew incoherent, and he broke down into more fits of sobbing and cursing. Gollum kept his distance, but did little to hide his gleeful smile. He relished the hobbit's pain, and knew with time, it was only going to grow. He had succeeded in killing the fat one, and now all that stood in his way to the Precious was Frodo, and he would be easy enough to do away with when the time came.


When Frodo grew quiet, Gollum crawled to him, placing a firm hand on the hobbit's shoulder. Frodo gazed up at him, his eyes puffy and red; his was face wrung with sorrow, worn from the long journey and wear of the Ring, and filled with dread. For a moment, a pang of sympathy spread through Gollum's mind. He knew the pain of losing another, and the weight of the Precious all too well. He regretted all the suffering the hobbit was enduring.


"Come, nice master," Gollum murmured. "There's nothing left here but death. Master should move on. Smeagol will help lead the way. Smeagol will care for nice master."


Frodo nodded solemnly, and limped after Gollum. He felt dizzy, and his feet were sluggish. Tilting his head, he glanced back at the water, and he choked on a sob. Once more, he collapsed to the ground and bawled uncontrollably. He could not bring himself to leave—to leave Sam behind. Gollum was back at his side, giving what comfort he could. Frodo couldn't make out the soothing words, and he trembled violently, feeling as if he would pass out. Gollum securely snaked his arm around Frodo's waist, and aided him to walk away.


*


Sam shot upright, coughing up water. For a moment, he was left in a daze, and he glanced around the landscape in confusion. He felt weary, and could barely force himself up. He was wobbly, and he keeled over, vomiting. Images were racing through his mind. Ones of Frodo, water, and Gollum. Rage came to him then. He remembered. The Stinker had pushed him in, leaving him to drown and somehow, against all odds, he had managed to survive. He stood again, and winced. There was a sharp twinge running through his left ankle, where he had been grabbed. He didn't understand how he had escaped, but guessed that the current carried him off.


'Where am I?' he thought dully.


From what he could tell, he was still in the marshland, but Frodo was no where in sight, or Stinker. He searched around, and came across his pack, soaking wet. Shaking, he opened it, and mumbled to himself angrily. The food was ruined, and he tossed it aside. Only the Lembas had survived, and there was very little left.


'Wonderful,' Sam snapped. 'Most of the food is destroyed, and I'm trapped in the middle of no where while Mr. Frodo is stuck with that Stinker. If I ever catch up with them I going to ring out Stinker's scrawny— '


A sudden pang of horror spread over him, and though he couldn't explain it, he had the urge to hide. He bolted under a cluster of brush, and grew still. A piercing shriek rang across the land, and Sam covered his ears and cowered in terror. A large shadow grew over the land, and Sam saw a winged creature flew overhead, the sound of its flapping wings immense. Another shrill cry echoed, and Sam recognized it. A lone Nazgul was flying overhead.


'Now, why would that thing be out here?' Sam pondered. 'Oh no! Mr. Frodo! That thing must sense the Ring!'


When the creature seemed far enough, Sam scrambled from the bush, following after it. He was sure the Nazgul would lead him to Frodo. He prayed that Frodo would avoid capture. He prayed that he wouldn't find his master dead at the hands of Gollum.



To be continued.