A/N: Thank you ALL so much for the great reviews! Here's the next chapter
:)
CHAPTER 7
Sam stood stock-still in shock. He couldn't have moved if he had wanted to. His heart seemed to have stopped beating as he stared numbly at the bloody heap on the floor.
Hours seemed to pass that way. Sam frozen, still standing on the top rungs of the ladder, his head peeking through the trapdoor, looking at his master's motionless body. Sam's thoughts seemed to be moving so slowly. He couldn't sort things out in his mind.
But in reality it had only been mere moments since it happened. Drenymer, who had been fending off a furious Gugruk finally succeeded in driving his long-bladed sword, dripping with blood deep into the Orc's back. Gugruk bellowed then fell still. Drenymer whirled around, eyes blazing in a mad fury, and caught sight of Sam.
"Hoy!" He cried out in surprise. Then he rushed forward, sword raised high over his head, preparing to strike. Sam noticed only just in time and ducked as the sword came swinging down toward him. Clinging desperately to the now teetering ladder, Sam saw the sword crash into the stone floor and heard the Man above him roar with rage at having missed his target.
But Sam had no time to catch his bearings before he felt a large hand grab him firmly by his collar. He gasped as he was pulled roughly through the trapdoor and thrown on the ground at Drenymer's feet.
Sam, quick as a flash, had Sting out in front of him. Burning anger glowed in his eyes. But overwhelming fear settled in his heart. This Man was so much larger that he. Drenymer immediately jabbed at him again.
"So you must be the other little rat then, eh?" he snarled, driving Sam back with his furious swings. The poor hobbit could do almost nothing to defend himself. All of a sudden a quickly aimed blow cut into Sam's arm and immediately blood began to flow causing the hobbit to drop his sword.
Drenymer quickly kicked it across the floor, out of Sam's reach, grinning evilly down at him.
"You're too late, though, Halfling," Drenymer continued, swinging at Sam, though not as hard as he could. He wanted to make this one suffer before he finished him. "Look at him. You're friend is dying over there. But it's no matter anyway. We have what we wanted, I am sure. And now I will kill you as well. Your mission has failed."
Sam gaped back up at him, his eyes wide with fear, clutching his bleeding arm. He could feel tears prick at his eyes. Although he had not wanted to admit it to himself, Sam had known in the back of his mind that Frodo was probably suffering horribly and that if he didn't get some kind of help soon, he would not survive. Sam stumbled as he dodged the blows, tears blinding him. He could still hear that horrible tortured cry echoing in his mind.
Another fierce blow was aimed at him and he dodged it. Then another and another, missing him by mere inches. He didn't know how long he could keep this up; he was beginning to feel weak.
Suddenly Sam stumbled more as he began to grow dizzy, and he fell to the ground, slamming his head into the hard stone. Vaguely he noticed how close they had come to Frodo, still lying face-down on the floor in a pool of his own blood.
Sam looked up to see Drenymer standing before him, grinning with satisfaction. Sam looked up at him, his eyes glazed with fear and pain. He seemed to feel his death hanging in the air, he could almost smell it.
"Well this is the end, dear Master." He thought to himself, "at least we will die together." And with that he cast his head upon the floor in despair, waiting for the final blow to fall.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Frodo slowly came to again. His pain was beyond pain. He knew nothing but his own suffering. He was soaked in blood, and could barely think as he gasped for air. But a familiar echoing cry in the room suddenly penetrated through his fogged mind.
Sam?
He struggled with all of his might to open his eyes. He thought he could blearily see Sam lying on the ground. He was bleeding. And Drenymer stood over him, sword before him, preparing to strike.
"No." Frodo thought weakly. "This can't happen, not Sam."
Then he noticed Sting, his own short sword, lying before him. He slowly reached forward, feeling for the hilt. The pain from this small movement was extremely painful and Frodo fought to stay conscious. At last he grabbed hold of it, then paused for a moment, trying with all his might not to faint.
With all the effort he could muster, Frodo lifted the sword slowly with one hand. The blinding pain that came immediately was almost unbearable for the beaten hobbit but he would not give in, not until he was dead. Sam needed him.
Frodo lifted the small blade as high as he could and drove it into the large calf muscle of the Man standing before him.
Drenymer cried out and fell onto his back, his sword clattering down beside him. Frodo let him arm drop and collapsed into unconsciousness.
The Man immediately fumbled to regain his weapon, growling in pain. But Sam quickly retrieved Sting, which had fallen from Frodo's grasp, and without even pausing to think, he did what immediately came to his mind. There was nothing else to do. If he did not act now and Drenymer regained his sword than all would be lost. With that Sam lurched forward, forcing the blade through the great Man's chest.
Drenymer looked at Sam for a moment in surprise, clutching at his wound, blood blossoming over his hands. And Sam looked for a moment at the Man who had ruthlessly hurt his Master, his dear Master who had already suffered so much. And Sam watched as the man took his last breath.
Sam sat frozen, Sting still raised in his hand before the dead Man, the shock and horror of killing anything besides an orc slowly seeping in.
Just then a small pained cry echoed about the room, and Sam thought no more of the dead man as he rushed to his master's side.
~AC~
A/N: Sorry to leave it there but it would be too long before a good place to stop. Be prepared for major angst next chapter :)
CHAPTER 7
Sam stood stock-still in shock. He couldn't have moved if he had wanted to. His heart seemed to have stopped beating as he stared numbly at the bloody heap on the floor.
Hours seemed to pass that way. Sam frozen, still standing on the top rungs of the ladder, his head peeking through the trapdoor, looking at his master's motionless body. Sam's thoughts seemed to be moving so slowly. He couldn't sort things out in his mind.
But in reality it had only been mere moments since it happened. Drenymer, who had been fending off a furious Gugruk finally succeeded in driving his long-bladed sword, dripping with blood deep into the Orc's back. Gugruk bellowed then fell still. Drenymer whirled around, eyes blazing in a mad fury, and caught sight of Sam.
"Hoy!" He cried out in surprise. Then he rushed forward, sword raised high over his head, preparing to strike. Sam noticed only just in time and ducked as the sword came swinging down toward him. Clinging desperately to the now teetering ladder, Sam saw the sword crash into the stone floor and heard the Man above him roar with rage at having missed his target.
But Sam had no time to catch his bearings before he felt a large hand grab him firmly by his collar. He gasped as he was pulled roughly through the trapdoor and thrown on the ground at Drenymer's feet.
Sam, quick as a flash, had Sting out in front of him. Burning anger glowed in his eyes. But overwhelming fear settled in his heart. This Man was so much larger that he. Drenymer immediately jabbed at him again.
"So you must be the other little rat then, eh?" he snarled, driving Sam back with his furious swings. The poor hobbit could do almost nothing to defend himself. All of a sudden a quickly aimed blow cut into Sam's arm and immediately blood began to flow causing the hobbit to drop his sword.
Drenymer quickly kicked it across the floor, out of Sam's reach, grinning evilly down at him.
"You're too late, though, Halfling," Drenymer continued, swinging at Sam, though not as hard as he could. He wanted to make this one suffer before he finished him. "Look at him. You're friend is dying over there. But it's no matter anyway. We have what we wanted, I am sure. And now I will kill you as well. Your mission has failed."
Sam gaped back up at him, his eyes wide with fear, clutching his bleeding arm. He could feel tears prick at his eyes. Although he had not wanted to admit it to himself, Sam had known in the back of his mind that Frodo was probably suffering horribly and that if he didn't get some kind of help soon, he would not survive. Sam stumbled as he dodged the blows, tears blinding him. He could still hear that horrible tortured cry echoing in his mind.
Another fierce blow was aimed at him and he dodged it. Then another and another, missing him by mere inches. He didn't know how long he could keep this up; he was beginning to feel weak.
Suddenly Sam stumbled more as he began to grow dizzy, and he fell to the ground, slamming his head into the hard stone. Vaguely he noticed how close they had come to Frodo, still lying face-down on the floor in a pool of his own blood.
Sam looked up to see Drenymer standing before him, grinning with satisfaction. Sam looked up at him, his eyes glazed with fear and pain. He seemed to feel his death hanging in the air, he could almost smell it.
"Well this is the end, dear Master." He thought to himself, "at least we will die together." And with that he cast his head upon the floor in despair, waiting for the final blow to fall.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Frodo slowly came to again. His pain was beyond pain. He knew nothing but his own suffering. He was soaked in blood, and could barely think as he gasped for air. But a familiar echoing cry in the room suddenly penetrated through his fogged mind.
Sam?
He struggled with all of his might to open his eyes. He thought he could blearily see Sam lying on the ground. He was bleeding. And Drenymer stood over him, sword before him, preparing to strike.
"No." Frodo thought weakly. "This can't happen, not Sam."
Then he noticed Sting, his own short sword, lying before him. He slowly reached forward, feeling for the hilt. The pain from this small movement was extremely painful and Frodo fought to stay conscious. At last he grabbed hold of it, then paused for a moment, trying with all his might not to faint.
With all the effort he could muster, Frodo lifted the sword slowly with one hand. The blinding pain that came immediately was almost unbearable for the beaten hobbit but he would not give in, not until he was dead. Sam needed him.
Frodo lifted the small blade as high as he could and drove it into the large calf muscle of the Man standing before him.
Drenymer cried out and fell onto his back, his sword clattering down beside him. Frodo let him arm drop and collapsed into unconsciousness.
The Man immediately fumbled to regain his weapon, growling in pain. But Sam quickly retrieved Sting, which had fallen from Frodo's grasp, and without even pausing to think, he did what immediately came to his mind. There was nothing else to do. If he did not act now and Drenymer regained his sword than all would be lost. With that Sam lurched forward, forcing the blade through the great Man's chest.
Drenymer looked at Sam for a moment in surprise, clutching at his wound, blood blossoming over his hands. And Sam looked for a moment at the Man who had ruthlessly hurt his Master, his dear Master who had already suffered so much. And Sam watched as the man took his last breath.
Sam sat frozen, Sting still raised in his hand before the dead Man, the shock and horror of killing anything besides an orc slowly seeping in.
Just then a small pained cry echoed about the room, and Sam thought no more of the dead man as he rushed to his master's side.
~AC~
A/N: Sorry to leave it there but it would be too long before a good place to stop. Be prepared for major angst next chapter :)
