Disclaimer: I don't own these characters or the basic story of "The Lord of the Ring." Those are the creation of JRR Tolkien.
Author's Note: I submitted this story once, but took it off because I was still trying to figure out the system and it really wasn't ready! This is my first attempt at fan fiction period, so I'm definitely on a learning curve. Hope it comes across OK! Thanks!
*******************************************************************************
Chapter 1 Moria
Sam was exhausted. He wasn't used to fighting, especially vicious orcs, with a sword, in a mine. The scene was chaotic. Everywhere Sam looked, he could see his companions fighting for their lives – Boromir and Aragon were plowing through the hordes of screeching orcs, sending their victims careening out of their way. Legolas dispatched one orc after another with his deadly bow. Gimli was roaring with delight as he hacked yet another orc into pieces. Even the other hobbits had joined the fray, slashing at the orcs with their short swords. No one in the Shire would ever believe that Merry and Pippen could be so lethal.
Sam looked around for his master, Frodo. He had tried to keep track of him amidst the chaos, but it was almost impossible. Figures kept dancing back and forth in front of him as he tried to look around the chamber. Suddenly, he heard Frodo's desperate cry of "Aragorn!" Sam could see the huge cave troll thrusting at something in the corner. It must be Frodo! Frantically, Sam tried to make his way over to Frodo. He must save his master! However, he had only gone a few steps when he felt himself knocked to the floor. It was as if someone had hit him in the chest with a hammer. With great alarm, he looked down to see the black shaft of an orc's arrow quivering in his breast! He looked back over towards the cave troll and saw the huge beast bearing down on his beloved Frodo with a spear. Unthinking, Sam grabbed the shaft of the arrow and yanked it as hard as he could. The pain was more than he would have believed possible. Black spots danced in front of his eyes as waves of nausea washed over him. He stared at the arrow in his hand, dripping his own blood. He closed his eyes and thrust it away.
Rolling over he pushed himself up onto his knees. He was panting heavily. He could feel the blood pulsing through the burning wound and running down his chest. He grabbed his cloak and ripped a piece off, balled it up and thrust it under his shirt, against the wound. "C'mon Sam," he gasped as he struggled to his feet, "No time for lyin' about! Mister Frodo needs you!" But, it appeared he was too late. Frodo lay face down on the floor of the cave. Aragorn and Gandalf were staring at him in shocked disbelief. Legolas, Merry and Pippin were attacking the cave troll. Sam barely heard the creature's cries of pain and anger as Legolas finished it off with an arrow in its mouth. All Sam could see was his master's lifeless body. He had failed him. Sam had promised to protect Frodo at all costs, and now, Frodo was dead.
Aragorn crawled over to Frodo's body and gently turned him over. Aragorn pulled back in surprise as Frodo gasped and attempted to sit up. "He's alive!" whispered Sam, "He's alive!" Relief washed over him, his own pain forgotten in his joy. Frodo was still alive. The others gathered around Frodo and stared in amazement at the glistening mithril coat that had saved his life. But they were not out of danger yet.
"There will be more orcs on the heels of these," warned Gandalf, "We must make our way to the bridge of Khazad-dum!"
Sam remembered little of the flight through the dark caverns of Moria. He ran after Frodo and the others without thinking. He could feel the blood continue to soak through his shirt. The small compress had done little to stem the flow. However, his fear kept him going. There simply was no time to worry about his injury. They must get out of the black caves of Moria! He recalled running through the labyrinth of mine passageways, navigating innumerable flights of stairs, the seemingly endless numbers of screaming orcs, and finally, the Balrog. Sam stood next to Merry and Pippin at the far end of the Bridge of Khazad-dum, watching in terror as Gandalf fought the fiery demon, and then falling to his death. Sam could hear Frodo crying out Gandalf's name as Boromir restrained him and then dragged him through the passageway to the mine's exit. Gimli pulled on Merry's arm crying, "Come, we must go!" Pippin and Sam followed close behind, dodging the barrage of arrows orcs were releasing at them across the chasm. The last to leave was Aragorn, his craggy face etched in disbelief. How could Gandalf be dead?
Outside the mines, the hobbits collapsed in grief. Gandalf had been like a kindly grandfather to them. They all had firmly believed that as long as the old wizard was with them, all would be right in the end. But now he was gone. How could they go on? Sam stumbled over to a rock and sat heavily upon it. The pain from his wound seemed to multiply many times over as the adrenalin dissipated. He began to feel light headed and the nausea was returning. He knew he should say something to Aragorn, but the Ranger was peering across the barren, rock-strewn hillside and urging the others to get up. Orcs would be there by nightfall and they must be away while there was still time. They must get to Lothlorien where the elves would surely help them.
"Come on, Sam." urged Aragorn, "On your feet." Sam sighed. He pulled his cloak closer around him and stood. He felt the world start to spin and his knees shake. "You're fine, Samwise Gamgee!" he scolded himself. "You've got to make up yer mind that all is well. A little scratch won't stop you!" He just wished the wound would stop bleeding. He had torn a piece off his shirt this time and when no one was looking, pushed it under his shirt, pressing it against the wound, doing his best to ignore the throbbing pain.
"Hurry up, Sam!" called Merry, "Or you'll be left behind!" Sam took a deep breath, wincing as he adjusted his pack and turned to follow the others down the hill. Looking ahead, he could see Frodo, wrapped in a blanket of grief. The other hobbit had been especially close to the grey wizard. Frodo was walking automatically, a look of anguish on his pale features. Sam wished there was something he could do to comfort his friend, but only time would help lessen Frodo's loss.
The way to Lothlorien was long and treacherous. Every step became more and more difficult for Sam. The wound was still bleeding and he was wracked with chills. Sam realized this was bad, but there just didn't seem to be a good time to bring it up. The other members of the fellowship were deep in their own thoughts. Legolas, Boromir, and Aragorn were constantly on the alert for pursuers. They didn't seem to have the time to notice that one hobbit was gradually falling behind. Sam was becoming less aware of his surroundings. He could hear the footsteps and voices of the other hobbits, but they seemed to be getting further and further away.
"Sam?" Sam blinked and saw that Frodo was standing beside him. "Sam? Are you alright? Why did you stop?" Sam looked around and saw that he had indeed stopped walking and was simply standing the pathway.
"Um, I,.." stammered Sam, "I'm fine, Mister Frodo, just a little tired." Frodo peered at his companion a little more closely in the fading light, and was about to say something when he heard Aragorn call his name.
"Frodo! Is anything the matter?" Sam looked farther up the path at the Ranger who was striding towards them searching about for any sign of danger.
"No. We're fine," replied Frodo, turning from Sam, "Sam just stopped to rest."
Aragorn looked at the two Hobbits before him. "Well Sam, not to worry" smiled Aragorn, "We are making camp just ahead. Follow me." With that, the tall Ranger turned and led the way up to where Gimli and the other hobbits had starting making a small fire.
Sam found a small hollow among the rocks. He eased his heavy pack to the ground, slowly settled himself beside it and closed his eyes. The chills were back and he felt so very tired. He didn't think he could ever move again. The pain kept pulsing in his breast and he could feel the blood slowly trickling downwards. "I really should say somethin' to Mister Frodo or Strider," he thought distantly, "But, I think I'll just rest a bit first." He pulled his cloak closer about him. After that, Sam knew no more.
Author's Note: I submitted this story once, but took it off because I was still trying to figure out the system and it really wasn't ready! This is my first attempt at fan fiction period, so I'm definitely on a learning curve. Hope it comes across OK! Thanks!
*******************************************************************************
Chapter 1 Moria
Sam was exhausted. He wasn't used to fighting, especially vicious orcs, with a sword, in a mine. The scene was chaotic. Everywhere Sam looked, he could see his companions fighting for their lives – Boromir and Aragon were plowing through the hordes of screeching orcs, sending their victims careening out of their way. Legolas dispatched one orc after another with his deadly bow. Gimli was roaring with delight as he hacked yet another orc into pieces. Even the other hobbits had joined the fray, slashing at the orcs with their short swords. No one in the Shire would ever believe that Merry and Pippen could be so lethal.
Sam looked around for his master, Frodo. He had tried to keep track of him amidst the chaos, but it was almost impossible. Figures kept dancing back and forth in front of him as he tried to look around the chamber. Suddenly, he heard Frodo's desperate cry of "Aragorn!" Sam could see the huge cave troll thrusting at something in the corner. It must be Frodo! Frantically, Sam tried to make his way over to Frodo. He must save his master! However, he had only gone a few steps when he felt himself knocked to the floor. It was as if someone had hit him in the chest with a hammer. With great alarm, he looked down to see the black shaft of an orc's arrow quivering in his breast! He looked back over towards the cave troll and saw the huge beast bearing down on his beloved Frodo with a spear. Unthinking, Sam grabbed the shaft of the arrow and yanked it as hard as he could. The pain was more than he would have believed possible. Black spots danced in front of his eyes as waves of nausea washed over him. He stared at the arrow in his hand, dripping his own blood. He closed his eyes and thrust it away.
Rolling over he pushed himself up onto his knees. He was panting heavily. He could feel the blood pulsing through the burning wound and running down his chest. He grabbed his cloak and ripped a piece off, balled it up and thrust it under his shirt, against the wound. "C'mon Sam," he gasped as he struggled to his feet, "No time for lyin' about! Mister Frodo needs you!" But, it appeared he was too late. Frodo lay face down on the floor of the cave. Aragorn and Gandalf were staring at him in shocked disbelief. Legolas, Merry and Pippin were attacking the cave troll. Sam barely heard the creature's cries of pain and anger as Legolas finished it off with an arrow in its mouth. All Sam could see was his master's lifeless body. He had failed him. Sam had promised to protect Frodo at all costs, and now, Frodo was dead.
Aragorn crawled over to Frodo's body and gently turned him over. Aragorn pulled back in surprise as Frodo gasped and attempted to sit up. "He's alive!" whispered Sam, "He's alive!" Relief washed over him, his own pain forgotten in his joy. Frodo was still alive. The others gathered around Frodo and stared in amazement at the glistening mithril coat that had saved his life. But they were not out of danger yet.
"There will be more orcs on the heels of these," warned Gandalf, "We must make our way to the bridge of Khazad-dum!"
Sam remembered little of the flight through the dark caverns of Moria. He ran after Frodo and the others without thinking. He could feel the blood continue to soak through his shirt. The small compress had done little to stem the flow. However, his fear kept him going. There simply was no time to worry about his injury. They must get out of the black caves of Moria! He recalled running through the labyrinth of mine passageways, navigating innumerable flights of stairs, the seemingly endless numbers of screaming orcs, and finally, the Balrog. Sam stood next to Merry and Pippin at the far end of the Bridge of Khazad-dum, watching in terror as Gandalf fought the fiery demon, and then falling to his death. Sam could hear Frodo crying out Gandalf's name as Boromir restrained him and then dragged him through the passageway to the mine's exit. Gimli pulled on Merry's arm crying, "Come, we must go!" Pippin and Sam followed close behind, dodging the barrage of arrows orcs were releasing at them across the chasm. The last to leave was Aragorn, his craggy face etched in disbelief. How could Gandalf be dead?
Outside the mines, the hobbits collapsed in grief. Gandalf had been like a kindly grandfather to them. They all had firmly believed that as long as the old wizard was with them, all would be right in the end. But now he was gone. How could they go on? Sam stumbled over to a rock and sat heavily upon it. The pain from his wound seemed to multiply many times over as the adrenalin dissipated. He began to feel light headed and the nausea was returning. He knew he should say something to Aragorn, but the Ranger was peering across the barren, rock-strewn hillside and urging the others to get up. Orcs would be there by nightfall and they must be away while there was still time. They must get to Lothlorien where the elves would surely help them.
"Come on, Sam." urged Aragorn, "On your feet." Sam sighed. He pulled his cloak closer around him and stood. He felt the world start to spin and his knees shake. "You're fine, Samwise Gamgee!" he scolded himself. "You've got to make up yer mind that all is well. A little scratch won't stop you!" He just wished the wound would stop bleeding. He had torn a piece off his shirt this time and when no one was looking, pushed it under his shirt, pressing it against the wound, doing his best to ignore the throbbing pain.
"Hurry up, Sam!" called Merry, "Or you'll be left behind!" Sam took a deep breath, wincing as he adjusted his pack and turned to follow the others down the hill. Looking ahead, he could see Frodo, wrapped in a blanket of grief. The other hobbit had been especially close to the grey wizard. Frodo was walking automatically, a look of anguish on his pale features. Sam wished there was something he could do to comfort his friend, but only time would help lessen Frodo's loss.
The way to Lothlorien was long and treacherous. Every step became more and more difficult for Sam. The wound was still bleeding and he was wracked with chills. Sam realized this was bad, but there just didn't seem to be a good time to bring it up. The other members of the fellowship were deep in their own thoughts. Legolas, Boromir, and Aragorn were constantly on the alert for pursuers. They didn't seem to have the time to notice that one hobbit was gradually falling behind. Sam was becoming less aware of his surroundings. He could hear the footsteps and voices of the other hobbits, but they seemed to be getting further and further away.
"Sam?" Sam blinked and saw that Frodo was standing beside him. "Sam? Are you alright? Why did you stop?" Sam looked around and saw that he had indeed stopped walking and was simply standing the pathway.
"Um, I,.." stammered Sam, "I'm fine, Mister Frodo, just a little tired." Frodo peered at his companion a little more closely in the fading light, and was about to say something when he heard Aragorn call his name.
"Frodo! Is anything the matter?" Sam looked farther up the path at the Ranger who was striding towards them searching about for any sign of danger.
"No. We're fine," replied Frodo, turning from Sam, "Sam just stopped to rest."
Aragorn looked at the two Hobbits before him. "Well Sam, not to worry" smiled Aragorn, "We are making camp just ahead. Follow me." With that, the tall Ranger turned and led the way up to where Gimli and the other hobbits had starting making a small fire.
Sam found a small hollow among the rocks. He eased his heavy pack to the ground, slowly settled himself beside it and closed his eyes. The chills were back and he felt so very tired. He didn't think he could ever move again. The pain kept pulsing in his breast and he could feel the blood slowly trickling downwards. "I really should say somethin' to Mister Frodo or Strider," he thought distantly, "But, I think I'll just rest a bit first." He pulled his cloak closer about him. After that, Sam knew no more.