A/N: Once again, thank you to everyone for all the feedback it is greatly appreciated. I am sorry this chapter took so long again but I promise the next few parts should all be coming out fairly quickly now since I have a week off and plan to do a lot of writing. I hope you all enjoy this chapter and continue to review. Thank you for reading :)
CHAPTER 11
The smaller orc crashed open the trapdoor with such force it bounced back on its hinges. He looked for a moment in shocked disbelief at the scene around him. Dead bodies of both Man and Orc littered the chamber. He recovered enough to get his voice back.

"Hey! They- they're all dead up here- all of em!" He still hadn't moved from his perch on the top rung of the latter, his head peeking over the door's opening.

The larger orc remained behind him on the ground. "What about the prisoner?" He called out. "Do you see him?"

The small orc hadn't seen the prisoner when it had been brought into the tower but he knew that it was very small and, for some odd reason, he had heard a rumor about furry feet. He hadn't believed it at the time but he struggled to remember all he had heard about the mysterious creature they had found as he swept his gaze swiftly around the room looking for anything different from orc-bodies.

Then he saw it. Off near the far corner lay a much smaller creature than the orcs with a head full of dark curly hair just visible from where the orc was standing and- believe it or not- hairy feet. But the small body lay motionless, wrapped in a blanket soaked in blood. It was not orc's blood.

"Well?" came the impatient growl from below him. "Is it dead?"

"I. dunno. Can't tell. Real bloody though."

The larger orc growled with frustration and forcefully shoved the other through the opening and into the room before hastily climbing the latter himself.

He also took a moment to stare in shock. Finally he broke the silence. "Imagine, that Man defeated. that elf's got to be around here somewhere. I can't wait till I find him and chop off his filthy head. where's the little rat they was keepin' up here?"

The other orc gestured toward the corner where Frodo lay and they both made their way over to him. "He's been stabbed." The large orc commented.

"Blast, that Man takes his jobs seriously, don' he?" said the other. "Look what they did to this little mite. Looks like they did a number on him even before that. Maybe the master doesn't want him after all."

There was a pause as the orcs considered what to do. They had never expected something like this.

"Is he dead?" the smaller orc stepped forward to take a closer look at the hobbit. "Strange little thing, eh?"

"Yeah." the larger answered, "This fellow's deader than dead, though. He can't be no use now."

"Musta refused to cooperate." Growled the smaller of the two. "Drenymer was real tough when it comes to that."

"Well after we catch up to the elf-boy the Master should be pretty pleased with us."

"But what about this thing?" He gestured toward Frodo again and the big orc glanced down. "Sounded real important that we keep it alive."

"Well that didn't work out now, did it? Look at it." The big orc raised his foot to give Frodo's small body a hard kick in the side. At that moment a small but furious figure bolted out from a dark corner at the far end of the room brandishing a short sword.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Sam spent one terrifying, panicked moment debating what he should do. Frodo still lay in his arms, the mysterious expression of peace very apparent on his face still marked with old lines of worry and pain. The last thing Sam wanted to do was leave him. He couldn't. he wouldn't leave his master.

But he knew he must.

The Ring weighed heavily around his neck as a constant reminder of what he had to do. the impossible task that lay ahead of him. And he was alone. As terrible as it felt Sam knew if he was to protect the Ring and go along with what he decided to do he would have to save himself. He must not be seen.

Quick as a flash he practically flew across the few feet between himself and Sting. He snatched it up and backed into the shadowed corner furthest from the entrance in the floor, for once being grateful for the dim gloom of daylight in Mordor. He quickly hid the sword, glowing bright blue in warning, under his cloak and watched the trapdoor crash open and the hideous head of an orc poke over the top and squint around.

Anger boiled in Sam's veins to see one of those monsters. He felt there was anger and grief enough inside of him at the moment to kill 20 orcs. But no. as much as he hated it he must hide and wait it out while Frodo lay out there in plain view. He gritted his teeth and watched.

The orc looked around stupidly for a few moments gaping at the scene before it. Then it seemed to be talking to someone down below it. Another orc. how many were there? Then a rather angry growl sounded from down below and the orc in the doorway was pushed roughly into the room followed soon after by a second larger orc.

This one too gaped around for a matter of moments. Sam took a moment to marvel at the stupidity of these creatures. His thoughts were quickly interrupted, though, when the two began to grumble quietly to each other and he saw the smaller shorter orc point over at where Frodo's body still lay and Sam followed the other's gaze until it came to rest upon the little hobbit's still form.

Both orcs quickly strode over to Frodo and continued to grumble to each other barely audibly. Sam could just make out the words, ". deader than dead. no use now." and he saw the larger orc lift one large booted foot and give Frodo a rough kick to turn him over.

Sam's rage boiled over. he couldn't stand to sit idle and watch his master treated like that, in life or death. Without ever stopping to consider the consequences Sam rushed from his hiding place, Sting's blade held high before him, and with a small, strangled cry of fury he rushed forward at the pair.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

There was no time to react. Before either of the orcs knew it Sting's short blade was buried in the large orc's back. Its eyes opened wide in shock for a moment before the blade found its mark, piercing his heart. A trickle of blood dribbled from his mouth before he collapsed face-first on the ground where he stood.

Without the great height of the large orc between them the smaller orc came face to face with his small but mighty attacker holding a short blue-bladed sword stained with orc blood staring with wide eyes at what it had just done. The smaller orc hadn't yet moved, its feet seemed to be rooted to the floor on which it stood.

Sam wasted no time. Before the remaining orc knew what had happened he was across the room at the opening for the trapdoor. He took one last look back at his master before hastily turning away. He did not want to remember Frodo like that. lying so pale and battered and bloody.

"Goodbye, dear master. Won't nobody ever forget the deeds you done." He thought to himself.

Even as he turned and fled down the ladder and into the corridor from which he had come Sam could still see the contented smile on Frodo's face. He knew that image would stay with him forever. And with that he hurried on, blinded by tears, cursing the ring as he went.

Already Sam could feel the intense weight of it about his neck, if it weren't for that evil thing he could have remained with his master forever, soon to join him where he had gone. But no. he had a job to do. He felt terrible running to save himself when his master lay fallen in some evil place. But he had to remind himself, he was not running to save his own life, but the future of Middle Earth rested in his hands now. This sent a shiver up his spine, but he knew he could not just turn the task away. It would be like dealing out death and suffering to all he cared for, though the one he cared for most was already taken from him. As soon as the task was over, as soon as it was completed, though, he could lie down and return to his master and never leave his side again. With that thought to urge his tired legs on, he continued to stumble down.

Sam looked around the space he found himself in now. Several other corridors led out of it but he hurried to the one directly in front of him. This looked like the way he had come.

A moment later Sam nearly tripped over something lying in his path and he stopped and turned to see what it was. The sounds of the orc pursuing him were fainter now. He seemed to have taken a different turn. Sam saw that he had tripped over yet another dead orc. He grimaced but edged closer nonetheless. As quick as he could with his trembling hands he took the mail, a cloak, and a small knife from the body and hastily put them on. Hopefully this would help him fit into the scenery of Mordor better. He shivered at the thought and hurried on.

There were no sounds anymore. Maybe the orc had lost track of him. Sam kept his eyes open anyway, his heart thudding so loud in his chest he feared his enemy would surely hear it. Then he stopped completely. It was too quiet.

He heard the slight scrape behind him just a second too late. The orc came bounding around the corner, blade held high, swinging it down toward the startled hobbit.

Sam dodged it, the blade barely missing his face, and continued to run faster than he ever thought he could, blessing his hobbit reflexes. He heard the orc stumble and growl in rage as it turned and followed Sam at a frightening speed. Soon the orc was right behind him again. Sam skidded around the last corner and was faced with a long empty corridor. No corners or doors leading off of it. There was nowhere to hide.
With nowhere to turn Sam was at a loss. Then it came to him. it was the only thing he could do, though the last thing he should. He took a deep breath and slipped the ring onto his finger. The world seemed to change though he could still see.

Sam pressed himself to the wall and watched as the orc ran past, not even glancing at him. He held his breath until he could no longer hear the orc's footsteps, then hurried after him.

He had been right, this was the way out. He could see the entrance and hurried through it. He was outside. And there were the horrible Watchers of the gate. Although they could not see him, he knew they knew of his presence. He could feel their menace growing and almost gave in, he was so tired. But then his thoughts returned to Frodo and the thought drove him on. He could not give up now. He had escaped the tower. As before Sam raised the phial of Galadriel, which he still bore, high over his head and, without even realizing it, cried out words he did not even know the meaning of. They simply burst forth from his tongue.

"Gilthoniel, A Elbereth! Aiya elenion ancalima!" And with that he hurried past them, trying to fight off the icy sensation of fear and pure evil clawing at his soul. He ran all the faster, desperate to put some distance between himself and that horrible feeling.

Once past the guards the terrible fear he had felt slowly diminished and he ran and ran for what seemed like forever, nearly forgetting he still had the ring on. As he ran on Sam heard a loud calling screech go up into the night. A few moments later it was answered. He ran faster, feeling more than ever that the glowing windows of the tower were looking at him.

Suddenly a great eye was before his vision. Sam knew it saw Him; he heard a dark voice calling to him. Fear like ice covered his heart and panicked, he pulled the ring off and continued to run, driven on by his fear.

After what felt like hours of running Sam finally collapsed behind a large boulder, now far away from the tower, and cried until he felt all his tears were spent and his heart shattered. Eventually he fell into an exhausted sleep.

~AC~