Misgivings, Part 1
"Pains of Darkness"
by Kati + Laur
Disclaimer: Kati and Laur do not own. See Tolkien. And it's more movie than book. You'll see.
Summary (Part 1): Sam and Frodo realize the only way to live is to escape from the kingdom of Gondor.

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Night fell; it was the coldest summer night in the all the history of Gondor. Nothing could be heard except the icy winds sweeping across the rubble and the dead. Gondor had never had an attack on their city this massive. It was wondered if the city would even be able to carry on after that night.

Huddled in a corner of broken apart amoury, two hobbits clung together trying to shield their small bodies from the bitter cold. Two guards shivered and talked to one another outside the entrance, trying to push from the minds the destruction they had seen that day.

"Mr. Frodo." Sam whispered, lips trembling. "Are you alright, Mr. Frodo?"

"I'm f-f-f-fine, Sam." Frodo managed to slip out.

"We have to get out of here." Sam continued. "We can't last here much longer."

"Sam, we can't leave."

"The two of us alone can't do anything. We need help, Mr. Frodo. From anyone who's willing to give it to us. But the two of us? Alone? We wouldn't last two minutes by ourselves." Sam broke apart from the huddle and lifted his head to peer out at the two guards. "We have no other choice."

Frodo turned toward the entrance. He knew in the very depths of his being that this really was his only opportunity to escape. Who knows what would happen to them if they stayed in Gondor? But despite all the certainty he felt to leave, his mind was plagued with what would happen if he stay. Would it be better in the long run? A burden should have been lifted from his small shoulders, but instead it felt like he was carrying the weight of Middle-Earth tenfold.

"You're right, Sam. We can't stay here. There's nothing left for us alone."

The two hobbits stared intently at the entrance, watching for any opportunity to sneak past their captors. Hours seemed to trudge as they huddled close to one another, trying not to even breathe too loud out of fear that they would be caught for even thinking of escape. Finally, one of the guards mumbled something solemn to the other and lumbered away, towards the center of the city, leaving one tired and nearly frozen guard to stand watch alone.

"Now's our chance, Mr. Frodo." Sam stood slowly, gingerly. He crept towards the archway, pulling the hood of his cloak over his head and down his forehead. Frodo was a step behind, doing the same to his hood. The two pressed their small frames against the cold stone that surrounded them and with small sidesteps, made their way out of the armory.

With a few small steps, Frodo was facing the guard's back, about seven feet in front of him. A panic rose in Frodo's blood. He suddenly couldn't move one more step. Sam was already paces ahead of him, but he felt that if he even shifted his weight from one foot to the other that he would be caught. His fingers gripped the frozen wall, and his large eyes were fixated on the guard's back.

Sam was almost completely out of the guard's view before he realized that Frodo wasn't behind him. He whipped around to see Frodo's expression of horror. His mouth was wide open and his chest heaved, trying to get any breath into his closed lungs. Sam inched back to Frodo's side, but Frodo didn't even notice that Sam was next to him once again. He grabbed Frodo's wrist in an attempt to get him to budge, but it was in vain. The expression of complete fear still lingered on Frodo's brow, and his hand remained clasped to the wall. Sam searched to all sides, as silently as he could, to try and find anything to help them get out of there. His eyes turned to the ground, where bits and pieces of fallen buildings lay at his feet. He picked up a jagged piece of stone about the size of his palm, and gripped it in his fingers. Swallowing all his breath, Sam threw the debris with all his might, and it sailed unknowingly over the guard's head. When the rock had disappeared from view, it was followed by a large clang, as if it hit something made of metal, and then a crash, causing a chain reaction of objects to topple over. The guard whipped his head towards the noise, and ruckus of loud voices raised. The sound of rusty armor and tired bodies jogged in the direction of the clamor. Loud voices shouted, raising the alarm of another possible attack.

Sam's fingers once again wrapped around Frodo's wrist, this time with success. Frodo's expression dissipated and his shocked eyes turned to meet Sam's gaze. "C'mon, Mr. Frodo." Sam managed to get out over the shouts and banter of the soldiers. "We don't have much time."

The two hobbits turned on their large feet and sprinted as fast as their legs could carry them. Ducking behind any fallen column or broken bits of statues, Frodo and Sam managed to slip past any guard that crossed their path. Sam stayed ahead, being sure to scan each area before giving the signal to proceed. Towards the outskirts of the city, voices could be heard back in the distance.

"They've escaped! The hobbits have escaped!"

"Tell Captain Faramir! Sound the alarm!"

"They couldn't have gotten far!"

Frodo turned towards the direction of the voices, trying to process everything at once. He missed his footing and fell into a pile of rocks before him. Sam heard the crash and turned to see Frodo face first in a pile of dirt and shards. He pulled Frodo back to his feet. The sound of armored footsteps came from around the corner. Frodo's frozen expression returned to his face, but Sam grabbed the front of Frodo's cloak and pulled him low to the ground, creeping towards a darkened corner of a collapsed building.

Sam pulled Frodo against the cold iron bars that covered the walls, trying to keep any sudden jerks or movements to be noticed by the two guards passing in front of the emaciated structure. Heavy breaths heaved from Frodo's lungs. He clasped his chest, and felt his heartbeat through his chest. He's never felt it beat so fast in all the times he could remember.

A long pale arm reached through the bars and gripped Frodo's right shoulder. A loud gasp rose from Frodo's lips as he flipped around to see what had touched him.

"Smeagol!" Frodo whispered loudly. Gollum was huddled in the farthest corner of his cell, his long arms wrapped around his mangled body. Even in the dead of night, Gollum's pale skin glowed. "Smeagol. Master's here."

"Master." Gollum's long skinny neck turned in Frodo's direction. Frodo was taken back by the even more dishelved form of Gollum that was before him. His skin was even paler then usual and his bright eyes were dull, glazed over. "What's the Master doings way out here? The Master will gets hurt." Gollum turned on his knuckles and crawled towards the worried Frodo and the watchful Sam. Trying to peer over Gollum's head, Frodo caught sight of a dark puddle near where Gollum was standing before.

"What's wrong, Smeagol? Tell Master." Gollum rolled over on his back and starred straight up into the night sky. A large gash lay across Gollum's chest; bright red droplets gathered in the corner of the wound and dried flakes of blood lay gathered on Gollum's chest.

"The mean men hurts us, Master. Makes them stop hurting us."

"Oh, Smeagol." Frodo's demeanor softened and he reached into the cage to take Gollum's icy hand.

Sam reached and stopped Frodo's intent. "Mr. Frodo, there's no time for this. We're going to get caught if we stay here."

"We can't just leave him here, Sam! The soldiers are hurting him. He's scared."

"Don't leaves us, Master. Don't leaves." Gollum's voice was even raspier and courser then usual. Frodo turned and stared at Sam, trying to get any kind of response from him at all.

"I hear something over here!" A soldier shouted from a distance away.

"Frodo, we can't stay here. We have to leave now!" Sam pleaded. Frodo turned to Gollum once again, still crumpled on the floor of his cage, defeated and wasted. Sam rose and made his way to the opposite end of the building, trying to see a clear path out of the city.

"Smeagol, listen. Master will come back for you. I promise. I will come back and get you out of here." Gollum looked away from the stars and stared at Frodo, the blueness of each other's eyes reflecting off one another. "I promise I will be back."

"FRODO!" Sam hissed. Frodo mirrored Gollum one more time and then gather himself and followed Sam out of the building. The two hobbits started sprinting again, looking for anyway out of the city. Behind them, Gollum's screams could be heard, pleading for "Master" to return.

The buildings of the city began to grow smaller, being steadily replaced by fields and trees. Soon, the two companions were free. They continued to run until they felt they would die if they took one more step. To the hobbits, nothing was left of Osgiliath except the flickering light of torches and the horrible memories that took place.

Sam knelt down on the cold earth and breathed heavily, trying to catch his breath after all the running they had done. He rummaged through his sack to try and find any remnants of food. Frodo, exhausted as well, leaned against the closest tree to him. He was free; everything should be fine now. Nothing left to worry about. He raised his hand, trying to feel if his heartbeat had slowed any since they left the city.

A sharp pain jolted into Frodo's chest. He cried out, pulling at his shirt and cloak, doing anything he could to stop the pain. i"Why is this happening?"/i Muddled thoughts raced through his head. i"This shouldn't be happening."/i Another jolt surged and traveled to every tip of his body. He cried out again, falling to the ground and grasping at the tree roots.

The sudden cries startled Sam, who dropped his pack to the ground, his water jug toppled over and spilled into the ground. He crawled over to Frodo. He jerked from side to side, shrieking in pain with each shot. "Frodo!" Sam gripped Frodo's hand, intertwining their fingers. "Hold on, Mr. Frodo! I've got you!"

A final and heavy shot of pain shot through Frodo's chest and he let out a blood-curdling scream that echoed throughout the trees. Sam still held tightly to Frodo's hand trying to steady his convulsing body. Frodo turned to Sam, a wave of fatigue swept over his body. "Sammm..." he barely muttered. His eyes glazed over and their brilliance dulled. His head rolled to one side and stared out into the empty black night.

"No." Sam shouted. "Mr. Frodo! Mr. Frodo! No!"

Sam's frantic eyes scanned Frodo, looking for any sign that his friend was still there. The wind blew hard as Sam shielded the side of his face facing the wind. He couldn't think. His head was swimming. All he knew was that Gondor was too close and every other place in the world was too far away. Frodo wouldn't survive out here. Sam needed to find some place safe. It was Frodo's only chance.

Somehow, with all the weight from his pack, Sam picked up Frodo and ran out of the forest shelter. He wished more then anything, that he had a map. Sam didn't know anything about the world that stretched farther then the East Farling. He held Frodo's crumpled body to his chest and ran with as much speed his tired feet could muster. He ran in the only direction he could see, heading to the West, following the light of the moon high in the sky.

Two long agonizing nights stretched on and Frodo's weight was starting to take its toll on Sam. Day and night lingered, and each step was more ounce of the strength that he didn't have. Every few hours, the hobbit would stop and rest his exhausted muscles, allowing himself a gulp of water before continuing.

Frodo was even paler every time they rested. The two days he was in Sam's care, he didn't wake. Sam wasn't even sure he was breathing. Sam would lay Frodo gingerly on the ground and look for anything that would give the signal that Mr. Frodo was in there. Sam laid his hand on Frodo's chest, and each time, he breathed a deep sigh of relief when he could feel a faint heartbeat. But each time, the beating was softer and softer. Frodo was growing weaker and weaker by the minute.

The hills and mountains passed and trees and forests gave way to wide open valleys and windy pathways. After those two horrible nights, alone and scared in the wilderness, Sam found his glimmer of hope.

A city lay in the distance, on top of a hill. The top of the largest building reflected the sun's rays into a brilliant shower of gold that blinded Samwise. It was the first clue that Sam had seen in days to let him know that he wasn't alone in the world. i"There Mr. Frodo will be safe. They can help him there."/i Hope had finally arrived and Sam continued the arduous journey to the city on the distant hill.

Ahead of him, Sam heard the soft whiney of horses. And then followed by a fast gallop, heading in his direction. Two beautifully adorned charcoal-grey horses appeared over a small mound, and mounted on top laid the glittering armor of two native soldiers. "Who goes there?" A gruff voice shouted from atop one of the horses.

The gallop grew louder as they headed towards Sam and Frodo, still laying half way between life and death in Sam's arms. They stopped suddenly right in front of Sam, their sheer size atop their horses caused Sam to draw back and feel light-headed.

"Who are you and what is your business here?" The loud and angry voice shouted again. Sam couldn't feel a voice within his throat anymore. He just stared with wide and scared eyes at the giant horsemen before him. "WHO ARE YOU?" The soldier yelled again.

Sam's vision clouded over, and everything in front of his eyes became as dark as night.

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The battle for Helm's Deep served as the turning point to Rohanian history. The people of the Horse Kingdom were saved from extinction thanks to the leadership of Theodan, the King of Rohan, and three mysterious hunters, appearing one day from the fields accompanying the wizard, Gandalf.

The population that remained made the long returning journey to their capital city on top of a hill, Edoras. With the help of the hunters, Aragorn, son of Arathorn, Gimli, son of Gloin, and Legolas, elf of the Woodland Realm, the Rohanians tried to rebuild their lives with some semblance of what had passed.

But unrest remained within the band of hunters. The ever-growing threat of an attack from Mordor increased with each passing day and the three began to grow unsure of what the future would hold for them. They understand what could happen if Mordor chose to attack, but for them, especially Aragorn, the idea of two little hobbits roaming the wilderness with the One Ring in their keeping always remained in the back of their minds. iWhere were their friends? Had they reached Mordor? Were they even alive?/i

This restlessness caused many disagreements within the party. Aragorn and Legolas had different ideas of where their journey should lead them next.

"We cannot sit idly by, Aragorn. We have the backing of Rohan's army, now it is time to seek the assistance of Gondor," Legolas said to Aragorn, his deep blue eyes intense and unwavering. Both towered over the dwarf, whose eyes darted between the two. He listened with a hopeful ear for a time when he could let his voice below them be heard.

"The Rohanians need at least a day to rest. As well as the three of us, Legolas. We are wearing ourselves thin. If we go in there, determined to fight Mordor, we will not have the strength to defend ourselves, much less execute an offensive attack. At this moment, we do not have the strength."

"He has a point," chimed Gimli, a smile of satisfaction spreading across his face.

Both the man and the elf shot a look to the dwarf. The smile disappeared under a long braided beard, and the two went back to their disagreement. Aragorn gritted his teeth, and continued. "Without the help of the Rohanians, we are nothing. The three of us cannot take on an army that numbers as large as Mordor's. If for nothing else, this time is for the Rohanians." He stopped and looked around the city that lay before his feet. He and his companions stood on the very balcony of the Golden Hall. The figures of the small Rohanian citizens darted in and out of various buildings spread across the hillside. Aragorn's voice softened. "Their entire world disappeared in the matter of one battle. They need to rebuild." he said, still looking out at the people. "If nothing else, these people need us here. For whatever reason, we need to be here. We just...we just do." Aragorn turned back to his friends, staring at his obvious display of emotion for the people before.

Before Legolas could even open his mouth to reply, the conversation below them became louder, interrupting whatever train of thought that had been held before.

"So, where were they?" asked one of the guards that stood watch over Meduseld.

"Out there." the other answered. "Just beyond that ridge." Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli looked out to the open fields, although unsure of the direction the guard below them meant. "I heard there were two of them."

"Do you know what they were? I heard they were two children."

"No, not children. Something else. I'm not quite sure exactly what." The guard shouted something unknown to a passer-by below them and then continued. "One of them is very small. Incredibly sick. He's down the infirmary now."

Aragorn raced the edge of the balcony and shouted to the men below him. "And what of the other?" Legolas and Gimli came to both sides of him and waited eagerly for an answer. The guard paused, curious of the band's sudden interest in the findings of the army. "Quickly, man." Aragorn shouted. "What of the other?"

"Umm...he's down at the infirmary, as well, Lord Aragorn. He was unconscious when he was found, but when he awoke he babbled something about Mister...um...Mister...Odo or something like that. And started in about the Shire and a ring. He was quite incoherent from what I understand."

All three exchanged looks amongst one another before turning and running back inside and through the Golden Hall. They passed the two confused guards on the way out and raced down the steep hillside to the city below.

[end part one]