Disclaimer: I own none of the characters within.
Author's Notes: Merry Christmas, everyone! My gift to you: a new chapter! Yay! With a really AWFUL cliffhanger! Double-yay!
The actual purpose and design of the Ring is going to remain fuzzy for a while, so just bear with it. I realize Gollum was OOC last chapter, but now that there's a Ring… check it out. On to…
Chapter Twenty
~
Head thrusting forward rhythmically with every stride, Gollum pounded down the sterilized corridors, his long tongue slopping out of his mouth in efforts to cool himself down. He'd been running at his greatest speed for about ten minutes; the duration was taking its' toll.
Every step sent jagged peaks of agony into his joints, his lungs burning with every breath he labored to suck in. Had to keep oxygen coming… had to keep legs moving… no matter what the pain, had to keep the hunters away from master.
Hurtling around another corner, he paused for a split-second to determine his position, and then resumed the frantic pace. Were they gaining on him? Of course, he had the advantage, being a wolf and naturally faster than men. But a tired wolf is no contest in the running department, and he could feel the energy being sapped from his body with each step.
A strained whining found its' way into his breathing, every exhalation a thin cry of terror, as he realized the guards were actually catching up to him. He'd be doomed… back on that table, back under the scalpel…
No!
The panic made him swifter, and his wrenching muscles continued to operate on automatic pilot, his mind glazed and only thinking of finding that way out… where was it?
There.
The gate was ahead! Far at the end of the corridor, he could see a patch of brilliant white light, beckoning him on and promising release. But then… the light began to shrink.
The gate was closing.
Shaking his head in manic denial of his imminent capture, he spurred his overworked limbs into overtime, thundering down the corridor with heavy, pounding steps, quickly blurring into a streak of dirty grey.
Jumping and stretching, he launched himself through the impossible crack, and heard the gates slam behind him. He was outside, breathing the fresh air, the slow-working doors firmly closed at his back.
But a strange buzzing sound was snarling in the back of his head, and he was suddenly so dizzy he fell to the ground. The buzz was slowly turning into a howling siren of pain… glancing over his bony shoulder, Gollum saw.
His tail was still caught in the jaws of the gate!
Screams of agony and horror shattered the air of the tundra.
~
A distance away, Sam nonetheless heard the gut-wrenching screeches, and he trembled. At his feet, Frodo shifted restlessly, ensnared by some vaguely haunting nightmare. His little black paws twitched, and then batted helplessly at the air. Eyes clenched shut in fear. Tail quivering.
Sighing deeply, Sam curled up behind him, trying to calm him with his body. The pup shivered, and then relaxed. But not for long; arching his neck backwards, Frodo unconsciously was trying to bite at the Ring. He of course could not reach it… his paws began rhythmically pushing at the thing, as though he was trying to get it over his head.
The pushing led to shoving led to panic, and soon Frodo was clawing at his own neck and whining, anything to get that Ring off. Pained by this tragic display, Sam nudged the pup into wakefulness, and Frodo's eyes flew open with a yelp.
The shrieks in the distance had stopped abruptly, and Frodo sniffed the air cautiously. Spotting Sam next to him, his tail thumped on the ground and he 'woofed' softly. His blue eyes sparkled with joy, and he rolled onto his back, waving his paws in the air ridiculously.
Rolling his eyes, Sam marveled at the good humor of his alpha. He felt his own inner pup stirring, awoken by stress and in dire need of exercise. Playing along, he swooped down and nuzzled Frodo's belly vigorously.
The pup writhed and yipped under the tickling, his paws latching onto Sam's face and trying futilely to flip the bigger wolf over. But alas, Sam was sturdier than that, and continued in his 'merciless' assault.
The game was abruptly cut short when Frodo yelped and twisted away, using his hind leg to reach around and scratch at the Ring that was chafing his little neck. Whining softly, he turned his mournful gaze on Sam in a mute plea for the removal of the object.
Bowing his head in the remorse of knowing he could never succeed, Sam nonetheless took resolutely to the Ring, gnawing his teeth on it, back and forth around the rim, hoping to find a weakness. Chewing at the metal was painful, but bearable, as Frodo relaxed, naively believing that he would be free at any moment.
That moment never came; Sam's gums only began to bleed again, the unknown metal remained solid and cold. Reluctant to give up and yet unable to continue, Sam flopped down wearily next to his alpha, another deep sigh rumbling in his chest.
A soft sigh echoed the beta's; Frodo stretched out in the snow and glanced idly at the sky. His heart trembled at the ice wrapped around his throat, and yet it continued to beat calmly due to the wolf next to him.
Sam was his anchor.
~
The two slept for many hours, their weary bodies still recuperating from days in corridors and under chemicals. By the time they awoke, it was late, late at night, and the moon whispered in the sky, surrounded by the ragged clouds.
Sam howled a shivering note to the stars, his voice cracking on sorrow and despair. A weak song from Frodo joined him, and the two broken voices slid up and down the musical scale in a song reminiscent of those songs with the Pack of the Quest.
Visions of their companions swam before their eyes, and soon they could see the familiar lithe shapes racing through the mist around them. Merry and Pippin trotted by, tumbling along an inch above the ground, their phantom forms shrouded in fog.
The tall slender form of Legolas rose in the darkness, and Aragorn materialized at his side. They walked alongside the Hobbit wolf ghosts, unaware of Frodo and Sam who watched with pining hearts.
Suddenly, a much more clarified shape appeared. Boromir. His eyes were clear and brown as they had been, unlike the vacant white of the others. He looked almost real, his feet planted firmly on the ground and his gaze looking directly at the two Hobbit wolves.
A breeze hurried by, snatching away the vision of the Gondor male. The ghostly form of Boromir twisted and wavered, before blowing up and into the sky. There, he became a constellation of stars, the eternally captured imaged of a mighty wolf running across an endless tundra.
The others vanished into the chill night, and Sam and Frodo released the breaths they'd been holding. The pup bowed his head. He had understood the significance of Boromir's clarity; the Gondor male must be dead. Dead… Slain by that same rampaging pack of Orcs? Fallen in some mighty battle?
The night wind offered no answer but a sigh, as though it mourned as well for the lost warrior wolf.
~
At dawn, Sam lumbered to his feet, shaking the sleep from this eyes and the snow from his coat. Frodo continued to lounge on the ground, so the beta trotted to the nearest hilltop and glanced around at the forbidding horizon, trembling at the vicious skyline of factories and foundries.
Smoke plumed on the air and rolled towards them, causing Sam to squint his eyes shut against the sting. It was a great blot upon the land…
Behind him, Frodo was struggling to his feet, and Sam obediently loped back to his side. The alpha pup was having some trouble; the Ring seemed to be irritating him even more this morning, and he whined and scratched at it pitifully.
Sam would have been content to stay in that one place and wait it out, or maybe even head back to the West and to the Shire. He sat down and looked meaningfully back towards the wall. But then, unexpectedly, Frodo began marching resolutely towards the heart of Mordor.
Jumping to his feet, Sam chased after him, whimpering a barrage of questions and listing a thousand reasons to turn back. He was not heeded.
It cannot be explained why Frodo kept going. He was not dictated by wolf nature or instinct; a deeper knowledge drove him, some hidden wisdom that even he himself did not realize. All he knew was that he had to get there, somehow.
~
Hardly an hour into their traveling, they stopped suddenly and shivered. A quavering wail ripped through the air behind them, causing all their fur to go on end. Sam spun around to face the intruder, while Frodo turned with weary resignation to whatever fate sped towards them.
Gollum.
Straggling over the hill, the emaciated wolf was all but dragging himself along, his eyes stark and glistening with agony and hunger. A bloodied and broken half of a tail hung behind him, shining with frozen blood and bare bone. In his desperate struggles to free himself, he had nearly ripped the whole thing off. But as the doors had begun to crawl open to release more troops, he had staggered away with half of his tail still clinging to his body.
The agony was forgotten as soon as his gaze settled on Frodo. Stumbling forward, the grey wolf collapsed at the pup's feet, breathing deeply and hardly moving a muscle.
Sickened and confused, Frodo leaned backwards and whimpered uncertainly. Gollum lifted his head curiously, and then everything froze. In leaning back, Frodo had exposed his throat, and the Ring was perfectly catching the sunlight. It glowed with a beacon of its' own…
Gollum recognized it. In years of captivity, he had seen these Rings. He had seen them attached to wolves, and had seen those wolves set free. Wolves had been set free without Rings, and they were always brought back and killed. But wolves with Rings… they were free for good. They stayed loose. Nothing ever bothered them again.
It was a Ring of power. A Ring that promised ultimate freedom.
Mouth hanging open, Gollum saw only that as he mechanically clamped his teeth around Frodo's neck and began tearing at the Ring. His rough jaws scraped against the pup's neck, and he squeaked uncomfortably.
At once Sam was shoving the grey wolf aside. Helpful or not, he certainly wasn't helping now.
Gollum hardly noticed; his gaze was locked on that Ring… the images of freed wolves danced before his eyes. He himself had been set loose… but how long would it last? Without a Ring, they would come looking for him, and then bring him back to his death.
He needed that Ring.
Forgetting the agonies of his lost tail, forgetting the threatening glare of Sam, forgetting even the pleading looks of Frodo, Gollum lunged forward, jaws snapping…
~ To Be Continued
