Disclaimer: I own none of the characters within.
Author's Notes: Yesh! This chapter is even messier than the last! Hold onto your hats! If lots of blood disturbs you… oh well. Can't say I didn't warn you. ^_^
Chapter Twenty-Six
~
The smoke was impossibly thick.
Sam squinted his eyes against it, but still the blackness invaded his vision and made his sensitive eyes water painfully, the moisture beading on his filthy coat and splashing noisily to the dry earth, where it was sucked greedily into the dirt. In Sam's ears, the silence of the area was broken by a thousand gunshots for every drop that hit the ground, the reverberations magnified by his own anxiety.
Up ahead, his wispy form almost snatched away by the smoke, he could barely discern Frodo trotting along, determined to the very end. His little tail drug on the ground behind him, too exhausted to lift it up any longer. His paws hardly lifted when he moved them, resigning him to a pitiful shuffle.
And behind him he heard the limping gait of Gollum, heard the rasping breath; grunting and whining as he continued to talk to himself. Sam squared his shoulders with false bravado; if Gollum should make one last desperate attack, the beta was unsure if he possessed the strength to defend his alpha.
Suddenly and as if out of nowhere, the monstrous factory of Orodruin was before them, hulking and terrible. The great walls stretched up and disappeared into the smoke, giving an impression of infinity and more. At once, Frodo threw himself upon it, his large black nose sniffing along the wall defiantly, searching fiercely for any sort of entrance.
Sam padded wearily up to his alpha's side, giving the wall a single pained glance. The days and nights of endless walking were taking a toll on him; his body was thinner, his eyes were wearier, and his coat was beginning to lose its' curliness, as if it was constantly soaking wet and heavy. Even his jaw was aching; the constant chewing on the Ring had done him a bad turn.
Frodo fared little better, though his spirit was lighter. He still had the optimism and stubborn courage that only a puppy knows; a puppy who has no true sense of danger and pain. Frodo had this knowledge, he had tasted death, and yet he retained that tenacious, innocent air about him, keeping him moving though the Ring was now unbearably heavy.
Lingering in the ragged bushes nearby, Gollum watched.
The stump of his tail was rotten and infected, oozing painfully and causing him great agony whenever he even twitched it in the slightest. It was just far back enough that he couldn't reach it and lick it clean, which normally would have kept it from becoming so mangled.
His eyes were those of a creature pushed past the limits of all sanity and reason. The pain in his tail, the death of his pack, the lust for the Ring, the terrifying voice of instinct that now beat like a drum in the back of his mind; all were too much for one wolf to handle. It all came spiraling down into his brain like through a great funnel, funnel that was sending in only madness and fury. He did not hear the roaring of the gears inside the factory; he heard only the sound of Frodo's footsteps. He did not see Orodruin itself in all its' hideousness; he saw only the sight of Frodo wandering along the wall.
Possessed by the Ring itself.
Just then, Frodo lifted his head and barked sharply to Sam. Gollum flinched backwards involuntarily at the suddenness of the sound, while the beta sprang forward dutifully to his alpha's side.
A door. An open door.
Right away, Frodo disappeared into the murky interior. Sam hesitated for a moment, staring apprehensively at the oppressive darkness, before plunging in. Gollum did not follow.
Inside, all the power of Mordor was created.
Sauron himself had designed it. Every single helicopter, every single snowmobile, every single gun was powered from this one enormous powerhouse. The generators, thundering at deafening volumes, were large enough individually to be the size of small houses. All together, it gave the appearance that, if they were stacked up, it could be a whole mountain. Not mountain; volcano.
The whole place was illuminated with a hellish red glow, thrown from the generators and ricocheting off the pumping machinery all around, making the entire area feel like being inside of a fire; the flickering orange and red light was overwhelming.
Sam and Frodo stood there in the doorway, gaping, awestruck, unable to move or even breathe. They could only stare in sad horror at this machine born of man. Sam closed his eyes, desperately trying to summon a vision of the Shire to mind. Frodo swallowed hard, only just now realizing that perhaps there was no way to stop Sauron after all.
But they couldn't give up yet.
Wearily dragging himself into motion, Frodo moved into the factory, Sam right on his heels. They went at a slow pace, prowling cautiously for fear of any sudden danger springing into sight. But all personnel – guards, workers, anyone – had been dispatched to the great battle, of which the two Hobbit wolves were unaware.
A long flight of stairs appeared before them, curving up and out of sight, wrapped like a smothering boa constrictor around one of the largest generators. Frodo began the final climb, Sam still behind him and casting wary glances over his shoulder.
The going was long and hard. The stairs were made of strips of metal, interwoven in a tight grid. The upturned edges of the metal felt painful and unnatural under their paws, and they winced with every step. Still they climbed. They went entirely around the huge generator, at last reaching the top.
Before them was the belly of the beast. The generators were open at the top, so that the wolves could see right down into the churning mass of gears and electricity. A narrow footbridge lead across the entire mouth of the thing, meant to be used for technical repairs.
Where to now? Frodo and Sam exchanged tired glances, now completely at a loss. What could they do up here? Should they go out on the bridge?
Gollum answered that last question for them.
He came barreling up the stairs, flying from around the railing and slamming the full force of his body into Frodo's. His momentum carried them both halfway out onto the dangerously skinny bridge, tumbling end over end, paws and claws scrambling to get a footing, while the gears whirred hungrily below.
Not wasting any time, Gollum bit hard into the back of Frodo's neck, causing the pup to scream sharply in agony. The insane wolf was all teeth, and he snapped furiously on anything he could get his mouth on. The flying jaws ripped into Frodo's right ear, tearing the delicate flesh clean off the pup's head, leaving behind a gaping and bloody hole.
Still at the far end of the bridge, Sam stood frozen for almost two whole seconds, so in shock and exhaustion. But at the sound of Frodo screaming, he threw himself into motion, barking warnings and death threats to the grey wolf.
But Gollum's frantic attack was not in vain. The flailing teeth found their mark… along the inside of the Ring, right at the back, was a tiny, almost impossible to find button. When depressed, it would release the catch on the Ring, freeing its' wearer.
Click.
Suddenly, even through the pain and the haze, Frodo felt the weight of the Ring lifted from him. It passed over his head, seemingly in a slower motion than actually happening, leaving him to slump into a dark and encompassing realm of unconsciousness, his body collapsing in a heap into the middle of the bridge.
Gollum stood there, sides heaving for air, the brilliant gold Ring clutched in his teeth passionately. His eyes darted around wildly, as though he hardly dared to believe that he had succeeded. The good fortune seemed too good to be true.
But it didn't last for long.
Sam took one flying leap over where Frodo lie, lifting into the air and smashing into Gollum with all the impact of a cannonball. Only this cannonball had teeth, claws, and a lust for vengeance.
Back-pedaling crazily, Gollum attempted to spin around and make a run for it. He felt Sam's teeth closing on his hind leg… tried to shake him off… suddenly, there was no ground beneath his front paws, and he was falling…
Gollum plummeted off the bridge, back arching and legs trying to run on air, moving in a distorted sense of slow motion. The gears raced up to meet him, yawning wildly to accept his scrawny body as a bizarre sacrifice.
Crunch.
The legs went first. The generators were slow-moving and patient, dragging Gollum in and giving him time to savor his excruciating death. At first he didn't seem to realize it, stubbornly trying to pull himself out and still holding onto the Ring. But as the gears closed on his hindquarters, the screaming began.
It wasn't quite screaming. That was too loose a term to describe it. It was howling, screeching, something beyond any person's deepest and most horrible nightmares. It was, in attempts to find words that even come close, the screaming of the damned.
Sam tried to look away, but he couldn't tear his eyes from the gruesome sight. By now, the gears were halfway up Gollum's midsection, and the blood flowed from his mouth like a waterfall. Abruptly, the screaming stopped. The body continued to twitch and jerk erratically, but the fire in the eyes had gone out. Gollum was dead, even as his remains were crushed into nothing.
The Ring was still clutched in his jaws, even as his head passed into the gears.
Everything stopped.
In its' indestructible metal quality, the Ring became jammed between two gears. The machine groaned painfully under this sudden obstruction. The whining increased, but the Ring refused to budge. It was stuck fast, and only human interference could remove it.
The whole generator began to rumble. Sam knew in that instant that it was time to leave. Racing back down the bridge, he threw Frodo on his back for the second time and all but fell down the stairs in his haste to get down.
Back across the dark floor of the factory…
The shuddering was spreading to the rest of the generators.
Out the doorway…
The whining was increasing to unbearable intensity.
Across the hills…
Something was going to explode.
BOOM.
~ To Be Continued
