Dawn broke over Minas Tirith, golden light warming the land. *It all looks
so harmless* thought Sam sadly, the bandages around his hands were soft,
he'd woken in time to see the damage before the linen strips had been put
on, the skin was blood red, dark and oozing liquid, and hard, even to move
his hands to hold the cup last night nearly made him scream,
*I hate being a burden, specially now…I ain't no good to no one, I can't help Mister Frodo, they won't let me near him, that never stopped me befores…but now he ain't in danger, I can feel it…but he's scared and it makes my heart bleed more than the pain in me hands to know that I can't comfort him this time*
The door creaked open and Sam spun round to see Pippin standing in the doorway, pale faced and shoulders stooped.
"erm, sorry to, ah, interrupt you, but I thought, erm, that maybe you, ah…"
Sam looked at him sadly, all throughout the quest Pippin had been told off for his clumsiness, reminded that he had been warned not to come. He'd felt left out and useless almost every step of the way, until Gondor…here, he'd been special, needed…and now he was being left out again.
"Sam, what is going on? I've asked everyone and all they do is say that everything is be fine, but I know it's not…something is going on with Frodo and I need to know" Pippin's back had straighten and eyes blazed, watching the gardner on the bed, his hands were balled in white strips, his face still pale, thin, thinner than he should have been. As he watched Sam opened his mouth to reply but, taking a breath he sighed softly and turned away. Pippin felt the anger in him begin to boil, he wasn't normally a very emotional hobbit but he was curious and hated been treated like a child. Turning around he took hold of the handle and stepped outside in to the hallway pulling the door closed with a might bang, and started walking, his mind lost too deep in his own thoughts to know where he was going, abrubtly he stopped. Facing a tall dark wood door, he turned around to see where he had come from and found himself staring down a long passageway with no windows, another set of doors stood at the end, one pushed slightly open where he had walked in. Turning back to the door in front of him he found his curiosity raised and reached out his hand to the iron handle, and paused as his fingertips brushed it, it was warm…iron should not have been warm…not down here where it was cold and dark, a chill ran down his spine with a thousand legs making his hand begin to tremble, but he couldn't resist reaching out again and grasping the warm metal and turning it, but to his surprise it wouldn't open, there were no locks or key holes just the one handle, pitting all of his strength against it, Pippin pushed again and felt the door move, almost against it's will. Stepping back he clenched and unclenched his fists and stepped back up to the door and pushed it again, opening just enough for him to squeeze through.
The room was black but like the handle the air was warm. No light brightened it from within, but someone had been here not long before and that thought tempted Pippin to take another step in the room, and another and another. Slowly his eyes adjusted to the murk and he began to see shapes around the edge of the room, cluttered mostly in corners, for the room was square and in the centre stood a large plinth of dark smooth stone covered with a cloth. Pippin himself found himself drawn to it, but even as he stepped closer something inside started warning him that this was not right. If Aragorn had gone to all of this trouble to hide this in here then there must be a good reason, but even those worried thought nagging at him could not stop his feet as he stepped closer, pausing before it, he took a breath and reached out his hand
**************
Darkness, warm and cloudy. How many days have passed I wonder? He is waiting, still here, calling to me…His voice has been with me so long that I begin to forget everything else, I try to remember where I am…but it is easier to relax in to sleep. Something happened, before, they were here, calling me, I wanted to go to them, but…I couldn't, he told me that going back would hurt…I don't want to hurt anymore, he said if I stayed here I would be safe…I want to be safe…but safe from what? Something is whispering the answers to me, but the voice is so far away that I can't hear it…that voice…I know it…from somewhere…before…my voice? No, someone else's a voice I know better than my own, it belongs to someone dearer to me than life itself…from before…
*************
Hot, Sam sat on the edge of the bed looking at the liquid in the jug, beads of cold water slid down the side of the metal pitcher, the glass lay on the floor, broken, shards lay glittering in the bright light sending rainbow- like reflections dancing on the walls.
Hurt, he had gotten so hot that he decided that he could take the pain of lifting the glass and scooping some of the liquid in to it. At first it felt like bolts of lightening racing up his arms every time he tried to move his fingers but slowly he took the glass in his bandaged hands, and gritting his teeth he leant over to lower the glass in to pitch and then one of his hands went numb, the glass slipped from his hand and hit the corner of the small table and shattered, each piece tinkling gently as it hit the stone.
Even as he watched, his other hand went numb, falling back to his side, the palm hit his knee, flinching as he expected to feel agony race through his body, his eyes were drawn to the reflections on the wall, twinkling.
No pain. No feeling. Even the pretty shapes on the wall didn't make him smile as they used to. Numb. Like sleeping.
Maybe this was what Frodo had felt while they went deeper in to Mordor, no feeling, not even hurt or fear…just silence.
Even as he sat there watching the light dance on the walls, the small fire in the grate flickered and grew stronger…its time was almost here…
*Never feeling any pain…*
(Thankyous go out to everyone for sticking with me through this, hopefully the next chapter should be up tomorrow or later tonight. I've already begun planning the next story, but I won't start work on it until this one is finished, not long now…)
*I hate being a burden, specially now…I ain't no good to no one, I can't help Mister Frodo, they won't let me near him, that never stopped me befores…but now he ain't in danger, I can feel it…but he's scared and it makes my heart bleed more than the pain in me hands to know that I can't comfort him this time*
The door creaked open and Sam spun round to see Pippin standing in the doorway, pale faced and shoulders stooped.
"erm, sorry to, ah, interrupt you, but I thought, erm, that maybe you, ah…"
Sam looked at him sadly, all throughout the quest Pippin had been told off for his clumsiness, reminded that he had been warned not to come. He'd felt left out and useless almost every step of the way, until Gondor…here, he'd been special, needed…and now he was being left out again.
"Sam, what is going on? I've asked everyone and all they do is say that everything is be fine, but I know it's not…something is going on with Frodo and I need to know" Pippin's back had straighten and eyes blazed, watching the gardner on the bed, his hands were balled in white strips, his face still pale, thin, thinner than he should have been. As he watched Sam opened his mouth to reply but, taking a breath he sighed softly and turned away. Pippin felt the anger in him begin to boil, he wasn't normally a very emotional hobbit but he was curious and hated been treated like a child. Turning around he took hold of the handle and stepped outside in to the hallway pulling the door closed with a might bang, and started walking, his mind lost too deep in his own thoughts to know where he was going, abrubtly he stopped. Facing a tall dark wood door, he turned around to see where he had come from and found himself staring down a long passageway with no windows, another set of doors stood at the end, one pushed slightly open where he had walked in. Turning back to the door in front of him he found his curiosity raised and reached out his hand to the iron handle, and paused as his fingertips brushed it, it was warm…iron should not have been warm…not down here where it was cold and dark, a chill ran down his spine with a thousand legs making his hand begin to tremble, but he couldn't resist reaching out again and grasping the warm metal and turning it, but to his surprise it wouldn't open, there were no locks or key holes just the one handle, pitting all of his strength against it, Pippin pushed again and felt the door move, almost against it's will. Stepping back he clenched and unclenched his fists and stepped back up to the door and pushed it again, opening just enough for him to squeeze through.
The room was black but like the handle the air was warm. No light brightened it from within, but someone had been here not long before and that thought tempted Pippin to take another step in the room, and another and another. Slowly his eyes adjusted to the murk and he began to see shapes around the edge of the room, cluttered mostly in corners, for the room was square and in the centre stood a large plinth of dark smooth stone covered with a cloth. Pippin himself found himself drawn to it, but even as he stepped closer something inside started warning him that this was not right. If Aragorn had gone to all of this trouble to hide this in here then there must be a good reason, but even those worried thought nagging at him could not stop his feet as he stepped closer, pausing before it, he took a breath and reached out his hand
**************
Darkness, warm and cloudy. How many days have passed I wonder? He is waiting, still here, calling to me…His voice has been with me so long that I begin to forget everything else, I try to remember where I am…but it is easier to relax in to sleep. Something happened, before, they were here, calling me, I wanted to go to them, but…I couldn't, he told me that going back would hurt…I don't want to hurt anymore, he said if I stayed here I would be safe…I want to be safe…but safe from what? Something is whispering the answers to me, but the voice is so far away that I can't hear it…that voice…I know it…from somewhere…before…my voice? No, someone else's a voice I know better than my own, it belongs to someone dearer to me than life itself…from before…
*************
Hot, Sam sat on the edge of the bed looking at the liquid in the jug, beads of cold water slid down the side of the metal pitcher, the glass lay on the floor, broken, shards lay glittering in the bright light sending rainbow- like reflections dancing on the walls.
Hurt, he had gotten so hot that he decided that he could take the pain of lifting the glass and scooping some of the liquid in to it. At first it felt like bolts of lightening racing up his arms every time he tried to move his fingers but slowly he took the glass in his bandaged hands, and gritting his teeth he leant over to lower the glass in to pitch and then one of his hands went numb, the glass slipped from his hand and hit the corner of the small table and shattered, each piece tinkling gently as it hit the stone.
Even as he watched, his other hand went numb, falling back to his side, the palm hit his knee, flinching as he expected to feel agony race through his body, his eyes were drawn to the reflections on the wall, twinkling.
No pain. No feeling. Even the pretty shapes on the wall didn't make him smile as they used to. Numb. Like sleeping.
Maybe this was what Frodo had felt while they went deeper in to Mordor, no feeling, not even hurt or fear…just silence.
Even as he sat there watching the light dance on the walls, the small fire in the grate flickered and grew stronger…its time was almost here…
*Never feeling any pain…*
(Thankyous go out to everyone for sticking with me through this, hopefully the next chapter should be up tomorrow or later tonight. I've already begun planning the next story, but I won't start work on it until this one is finished, not long now…)