Disclaimer: I own none of the characters within.



Author's Notes: Ack! Yes, the chapters are taking longer. A shout-out to some of my reviewers:



Tenshiamanda - Thanks a ton for your reviews. I'm glad this story holds your interests and whatnot. I'm amazing? Ooo... :D



TK - At a loss for words. I'm thrilled I've reduced you to such a state. Thanks for all your reviews as well!



Cudae - Here's some Frodo and Sam for you. Sorry I've made you wait so long. :)



Abigail da Jedi - Never read it, never heard of it. Eeps!



Amarth - Darling, this chapter's for you. ;)









Chapter Ten













~



The mourning began.



Eomer and Eowyn sang with broken hearts over the body of their strong alpha, Theoden.



Wrenching was the song of Haldir over his fallen brothers, Rumil and Orophin, which Galadriel and Celeborn also howled for.



The Imladris pack crooned softly over their loss of Lindir and Erestor.



While a short distance away, all was joyful as two large wolves and two very little ones shared a reunion that all had thought impossible. Legolas, Aragorn, Merry, and Pippin rubbed noses and bodies, licking faces and whimpering many greetings.



Nearby, Arwen sat and watched her love.



And on a lone hilltop, a wolf and an eagle spoke of the war that still loomed overhead...



~



The war was being fought already.



Days ago, long before the Battle of the Deep was even fought, two small Hobbit wolves were fighting across the Southern end of Moria.



Frodo and Sam forged onward, deeper and deeper into the territory towards Mordor. Many times had the older wolf paused and looked back, wondering why they were taking this terrible road. But the little pup with the wise blue eyes knew, and kept moving Eastward.

Deep in his heart, Frodo felt an uncanny pull towards the dark land, knowing somehow that the only way the battle could be won would be there in the heart of evil. He was tiny and frail, but Sam protected him, and with the beta at his side there was the possibility of victory.



But not now.



They were lost, wandering through the dark and twisting roads of Moria. At first they had moved with stealth and speed, but then it became clear that the Orcs had moved on. The two could not possibly know that the fell creatures had moved on to the Deep and were preparing for battle.



Now they drifted aimlessly, always Eastward, but still very uncertain of the route. What if they should stumble upon a trap? Or become lost forever in the winding crevices and ravines? Or what if they should starve?



Sam worried mournfully, contemplating the hundreds of terrible fates that awaited him if he continued right into the clutches of the Hunter. But he had sworn to follow Frodo, and follow he would, even if it meant his own death.



Late at night, the two rested in the shelter of an overhanging rock, huddled against the biting wind that sliced through the land. Frodo shivered, and Sam put a paw protectively over him, curling his furry body up behind the pup to provide more warmth. The stars winked overhead, almost mocking in their freedom and peace high in the sky...



But then there were stars winking on the ground.



Sam stared. He saw for the briefest of moments two pinpoints of light, very much like the stars he had just been viewing, but very close and certainly not in the sky. They looked almost like...



Eyes.



In an instant, Sam was on his feet and racing towards the spot, the confused Frodo sending a yelp after him. Yet upon reaching the place the eyes had been, he saw nothing. Nose to the ground, he sniffed about. There was no trace of life.



Had he been seeing things?



Shaking his head, Sam trotted back towards his little charge and settled down again, urging the pup back to sleep. But he himself kept a wary eye out for any signs of intruders.



His deepest sense warned him that they were not alone.



~



All through the next day of travel, Sam had the unnerving sense that they were being watched or followed. Many times he whirled around to face their stalker, and always there was no one there.



Frodo gradually became aware of this as well, and began casting uneasy looks over his shoulder, reluctant to turn his back on this unknown danger.



It was that night the follower was revealed.



Curled up together again, Sam feigned sleep and peered out of slitted eyes. The twin stars appeared again, moving swiftly. Definitely a living creature. Sam tensed. The eyes drew nearer, weaving back and forth. Soon he could hear the shuffle of feet.



Closing his eyes, Sam lay absolutely still. Heated breath drifted down his neck as something sniffed him. And in a flurry of movement, Sam had leapt to his feet and seized the intruder's neck in his teeth.



It was a wolf, small like the Hobbit race, but the similarities ended there. This animal was thin, terribly thin and bony, with sparse grey hair and large yellow eyes.



This was Gollum. Long ago, he had been caught by the Great Hunter and taken to Mordor. Years in a cage had turned him into a scrawny, shifty creature that was also skittish and sly. He was smart, had always been very smart, but now it was a warped intelligence that was chilling. Inexplicably, he had been set loose in Moria. Uncertain and crazed by the sudden and overpowering freedom, Gollum had gotten cocky and allowed himself to be caught by Sam.



Whining and wriggling, he arched his back in an attempt to shake Sam off. No use. When his escape failed, Gollum simply went limp and lay trembling on the ground. With a snarl, Sam was about to finish him off...



When Frodo stepped in the way. Cautiously, the pup came closer to Gollum's face. The wide yellow eyes stared back at him blankly. Frodo gave a little yip, a call of friendship. Gollum's tail wagged slowly.





Growling, Sam stepped between them. He didn't trust this stranger. The scent of the Hunter was faint on his body, and that was enough to spell trouble. Shouldering the grey wolf roughly, Sam ordered him to leave or be slain.



But Gollum shoved back, with surprising strength, and trotted around the beta to stand next to Frodo. Sam bared his teeth, but the blue-eyed pup reprimanded him with a sharp bark.



Gollum was welcomed.



He did little at first, just following them around uselessly, making odd little growl-whimpers as he talked to himself, a habit developed in captivity. Sam tolerated him barely, and looked for every excuse to drive him off.



And then Gollum proved a purpose.



Side by side, Sam and Frodo sat staring at the Eastern horizon. Many times they had done this, pondering their route and reflecting on the Shire land they would never see again. Gollum slunk up alongside them and gave a quizzical whimper. Nodding his head, Frodo strained his eyes to the East. Glancing back and forth between the pup and the East, Gollum understood.



With an explosive bark, he jumped into the air, his legs wind-milling uselessly before landing on the ground and carrying him over the hill. He turned, and whined for them to follow. It became clear to even Sam.



Gollum knew the way.



So for days they trailed behind him. He moved with a weird, twisting gait, his head cocking from side to side and his ears always swivelling. And the path zigged and zagged up and down Moria, turning back on itself occasionally as though he were trying to loose someone.



Always Gollum strived for Frodo's attention. He crawled on his belly, he rolled on his back, anything to get a wolf smile from the pup. And always Frodo granted that smile, sending Gollum into ecstasies that lasted the rest of the day and upped the pace of their travel.



They came to the Marshes.



Never was more deadly natural trap found in the tundra. The dark and festering muck would drag the strongest caribou to it's death, and the small solid path that snaked through it was far too thin and perilous.



Sam paused at this obstacle and refused to continue. Glancing back, Frodo yipped reassuringly. Bristling, Gollum tossed his head impatiently. Slowly, Sam crept forward and onto that terrible road. He had sworn to follow Frodo, and follow he would.



Darkness fell, and still Gollum did not slow their pace. Even Frodo began to get nervous, his paws slipping into the water that heralded a murky grave. He whined for Gollum to stop; he was ignored. Stumbling, Sam landed on his belly and facing the depths.



The skull of a wolf stared back at him.



Yelping, he leapt to his feet, racing to Frodo's side. The pup stood paralyzed, staring across the waters at the eerie glows of swamp gas that twisted on the air. He stepped forward, towards that peculiar light...



And then Gollum was at his side, tugging his shoulder and begging for no more stops. His eyes, glowing strangely in the dark, shifted about nervously as though he sensed a presence lurking in the shadows.



At dawn, a dark shape passed overhead with the hum of a helicopter.



Instantly, Gollum was on the ground, writhing under the phantom pains of needles and scalpels. Sam barked in warning, but the grey wolf would not listen and shrieked like a thousand claws were digging into him.



For hours Gollum lay there, shaking and convulsing. Frodo's kind blue eyes widened in sympathetic horror, and he was about to move forward. But suddenly, Gollum was on his feet and racing onward.



He led them North, and then West again, driven by the terror of whatever had passed them. Now Sam had no idea where he was, and catching up to Gollum, he threw him violently to the ground and snarled.



The fight that was about to happen never took place. For at that moment, another wolf loomed from the shadows. A full-sized wolf, proud and strong...







~ To Be Continued