CHAPTER NINE - CAPTURE

A/N: Because this is my story, I decided that Sam would journey much slower alone and therefore wouldn't arrive in Ithilien until the events in Return of the King. The others, driven on by their need to find Frodo hurried a bit more and are therefore slightly early. Therefore, Sam is in Ithilien at the same time that Gandalf, Pippin and Frodo arrive at Minas Tirith.

Outside the tent, Aragorn and Gandalf continued their discussion. They had dispatched a Rohirrim rider as decided; his orders to follow Saruman, observe him and interfere only if he endangered another's life. Saruman was not to be killed under any circumstances, Gandalf had been adamant about it.

"The enemy is moving towards Minas Tirith, Aragorn and he will not wait for us. If we are not there, Minas Tirith will fall to the enemy, to the doom of all the free peoples."

"But what of Frodo? He will not survive the long, hard journey to Minas Tirith Gandalf, he is barely holding on now." Aragorn hissed.

"Then we will have to chance it. We have already dawdled here far too long. We must reach Minas Tirith before the enemy. Treebeard will ensure that Isengard is secure while we are gone."

Aragorn knew that Gandalf was right, but after finally saving the small hobbit, he was reluctant to chance his life so quickly. "I will speak to the king."

Gandalf clasped Aragorn's shoulder. "Frodo will be alright."

Gandalf disappeared into the last shadows of the night, leaving Aragorn alone with his thoughts.

***

Gandalf heard a yelp and found Pippin led out on the floor next to the Palantir. After some coaxing, Pippin came out of his trance and started crying.

"I'm so sorry Gandalf, but it has been calling to me ever since I touched it at the bottom of Orthanc. Merry and Frodo were asleep and I just couldn't stand it anymore. Please forgive me, Gandalf."

Gandalf stared into the young hobbit's eyes and found nothing but fear and guilt.

"It is not your fault Peregrin Took. I never should have let you near the thing in the first place, but for your foolishness you shall ride with me now to Minas Tirith."

Pippin's eyes grew wide with terror as Gandalf told him of the King's decision. Merry would travel to Edoras with King Theoden and Aragorn to be kept safe. Pippin and Frodo would travel away from the Palantir and Saruman's influence to Minas Tirith. As soon as the King had secured Edoras, he would ride to Minas Tirith with all haste.

When all prepartations were made, Frodo and Pippin mounted Shadowfax with Gandalf, and as Shadowfax rode into the wind, it seemed to Pippin that they were flying.

***

Legolas stared up at the stars. The stars seemed the same as they had been yesterday, yet something was different; he was different.

Frodo was alive and so was Mithrandir, so perhaps he had not failed at all. He mused on his thoughts while he kept watch. The remaining party would be leaving in a few hours and he with them. He should really get some rest, but every time he closed his eyes, the image of Frodo jumping from the balcony tore him from any kind of restful slumber.

Legolas knew that Frodo was alive, but Frodo was so badly hurt. If Legolas had only gotten there sooner, he could have prevented the little hobbit so much torment and pain. Legolas reiterated his previous decision; he was pathetic. He was not worthy to remain in the party. Perhaps he should have volunteered to go after Saruman and Grima, at least then he would be alone, there being no one else he could hurt.

***

Aragorn watched Legolas from across the camp. Elrond had warned him back at Rivendell that Legolas blamed himself for Frodo's apparent death, and it seemed that he still believed that. Legolas's spirits had improved by Gandalf's return, but he never seemed to be truly happy.

Aragorn had spoken to Gimli and Gandalf about this, but none of them could think of anything to do. Gimli seemed to be overcoming all their numerous differences and arguments to try to find the underlying cause of Legolas' misery, but when asked, Legolas would either clam up or avoid the subject. None of them knew how to cure an Elf of grief.

Gandalf had seen many Elves in the pain of grief in his time, yet no one that had remained in Middle Earth had survived. All they could do was keep supporting him and hope; hope that Legolas could forgive himself for doing nothing wrong.

***

Sam looked up at the rain clouds above him. He'd travelled through Emyn Muil, but had become lost in it's warrens of stone. Everything had seemed the same, each rock, each tree and peak. It had only been when Gollum had appeared and guided him out that he had escaped it's maze. Sam had been reluctant to have any association with the creature, remembering Mr Bilbo's stories of Gollum all too well. But in the end he'd had no choice. He'd started by binding the creature in Elven rope, but the vile slug had whined and moaned to the point of distraction and Sam had agreed to let him go from his restraints on the condition that Gollum guided him safely to Mordor.

He was incredibly suspicious of Gollum, having a natural dislike for him that made him shiver every time he saw him. Sam knew that he could never trust Gollum and kept half an eye open at night to make sure Gollum didn't try to throttle him in his sleep. Yet the creature had been true to his word and brought him to the Black Gates. Sam had nearly run straight in, but Gollum had held him back, begging him to come with him another way. Suspicion raised, he would have gone through the gate had it not been closed and so was forced to follow Gollum yet again.

Gollum had brought him into Ithilien. They were camped there for now and Gollum had gone off to eat, Sam presumed. He was glad Gollum rarely brought whatever he ate near him, for though he could often smell the remains on him, he had no wish to actually know what poor creature it had been. He sat near the embers of his dying fire, rubbing his numb hands together. The last of the day's light was fading and he knew he should get some rest. Yet, as always, he couldn't. The ring bore down on him like a great weight, always whispering to him, always tempting him. He would sit and look at it for hours, admiring it's simple beauty.

Sometimes it would seem as thought it weighed more than Middle Earth itself around his neck and sometimes he would not feel the weight at all. More often lately, as the Ringwraiths passed overhead he would remember when Frodo had been stabbed by them at Weathertop, feel the eye searching for him. The eye burned his mind, and although it had not yet found him, the burning never ceased. There was only one thing that kept Sam going, that made him put one foot in front the other. Mr Frodo had left him this last task to finish and finish it he would.

***

Frodo could feel the ring getting closer with every stride Shadowfax took. He revelled in it's warmth, the heavy presence that felt so normal to him tempted him. Pippin had told him that Sam had continued the quest on his own and Frodo had almost laughed. If he could catch up with Sam, Sam would surely give him the ring. He stopped.listening to himself; he sounded like the Gollum in Bilbo's stories. He honestly did want to see Sam again, to have his reliable presence by his side again, even to hear his numerous poems and stories again. He had missed Sam whilst he had been at Isengard he realised, but meeting him again could be deadly for them both.

Frodo clung closer to Pippin and tried not to think about how much pain he was in. The pain of his bruises rubbing against his clothes; the pain of holding his head up with his throbbing neck. The pain on his back was the worst, and it rubbed against Gandalf in time with Shadowfax's gallop, irritating the burns and lacerations there. He began to fade into unconsciousness and welcomed it, at least he wouldn't feel the pain then.

***

Sam heard something and was instantly at his feet. He ran through the woodland and crept up to the top of a knoll. He peeked over the top to see thousands of men dressed for war parading towards Mordor. Sam winced slightly at the sight of so many warriors of evil. Gollum laughed.

An oliphant came into sight and Sam's face showed his obvious awe.

"No one's ever going to believe this back home." He murmured almost to himself.

Arrows started flying down at the men and Sam ducked back slightly behind the mound. The oliphant stumbled and dropped a man several feet away from Sam, causing him to jump back. He turned and ran right into a cloaked warrior.

He tried to struggle and found it useless. A man, slightly taller than the rest came forward looking at him with an intense gaze. Sam could see none of his face, for it was hidden behind a hood. The leader gestured to another and Sam's hands were bound and a hood thrown over his head.

***

Sam tried to be brave, he knew Mr Frodo would be in his position. Mr Frodo would stand tall and proud against those nasty men; well maybe not so tall, but proud all the same.

He was kicked to the floor when he assumed they'd arrived at wherever they were going and his hood removed. He stood up and slowly looked around. Everything seemed so big around him and he cowered. The leader moved towards him and sat on an old barrel.

"My men tell me you are an orc spy."

"Spy? Now wait just a minute."

"Well, if you are no spy, then who are you?"

Sam looked confused, unsure of how much this man could be trusted.

"Speak!"

"I am from the Shire, Bag End to be exact. My name is Samwise Gamgee."

"And where is your skulking friend? That gangrel creature. He had an ill- favoured look."

Sam hesitated. "There is no one else. The Fellowship is broken and I am all that is left." Sam trailed off, thinking of his parting from the company.

The leader paused. "You left from Rivendell with Boromir?"

"Yes."

"You would count him among your friends?"

"Yes I suppose so."

"It would grieve you then to learn that he is dead?"

"Dead?" How could Boromir be dead?

"As one of his companions, I had hoped you would have news of his death. He was my brother."

The leader pulled back to reveal a face that was similar to Boromir's, yet younger and less worn.

"Captain Faramir." A voice said from behind Sam. Faramir, yes he thought. Boromir had spoken of having a younger brother by that name, but Sam had never thought he would be in this position with him.

Sam was led into small room containing three large barrels. He sat down and wept. He was alone in a strange land, apparently abandoned by his only guide and in a strange prison of Boromir's brother. What was he to do?