Date: 7/23/03 3:57:10 (PM Eastern Daylight Time)

3: Nazgul


The first thing that came to Frodo's mind was Pippin, where was he? His eyes shifted in his eyelids at a rapid pace, as he tried to get his limbs to move when blinding pain engulfed his entire being. He cried out opening his eyes. To his discomfort he found himself in a soft bed his, head resting on a feather pillow. Slowly his eyes shifted downward as much as they could to find small scratches across his right arm, his left arm in a sling. With a groan he realized that he was at Bag-End, in his bedroom lying down. He smiled thinking the worst was over, and nothing happened. It was all a bad dream. Frodo settled down into the bed ready for another bout of slumber. However, the ache in his body would not allow him to surrender to sleep so easily. His mind buzzed frantically, trying desprately to recall what had brought him to the state he was in. Frodo realized that what had happened to him, what he was feeling was no dream at all. Pippin had truly been taken by the dragon.

"Pippin!" he gasped, setting up quickly. He shifted about in the bed trying to find his way out from underneath the sheets. A pair of hands held him back pushing Frodo back in the bed. His eyes shifted toward the hobbit he recongized as Samwise Gamgee. The sandy-haired hobbit gave his master a welcoming smile and finally got him to lie down. "There now, Mr. Frodo," Sam coaxed, pulling the covers back up on him. Frodo groaned when his the gardeners hand hit his shoulder. He gave the gardner a wary expression as he allowed him to made him comfortable. "You're in no condition to go anywhere," Sam said in a perental tone.

Frodo sat up again, pushing away Samwise's hands from his shoulders. Doing his best to ignore the pain he flung the sheet from off his body and swung one of his legs from off the bed followed by the other. He grunted at the stinging pain that continued to course through his being, he turned to Sam who's face was twisted with worry. "S-Sam," Frodo stuttered, unable to speaking correctly. His mind was processing the sentence, but when it came out broken up. Frodo struggled against his dried throat, but it had once again come out as gibberish.

Sam rested his hands on Frodo's arms, preventing him from bolting out of the bed, what was Frodo trying to say? "Pippin?" Sam repeated, struggling to keep Frodo in the bed. "What happened to Mr. Pippin!" Frodo could barely breathe when he remembered what happened and tried to explain. Frodo shook his head quickly, images of Pippin's frightened. Sam tried to calm his injured friend down, Frodo would not. "Mr. Frodo, calm down! What about Pippin! Your not making sense," Samwise cried shaking his master. Frodo's eyes were wide with grief as he pushed against Sam's hold on him.

Sam was beyond worried now. "Calm down Mr. Frodo!" Sam cried shaking him harder. "You're hurtin' yourself even more by doin' this!" Frodo did not cease struggling against him. He brought his hand up and backhanded him. Frodo recoiled from Samwise, crawling back onto the bed. "S-Sam?" He murmured. "Why'd you do that?" Sam sighed not sure how to explain himself, he only hopped Frodo would forgive him. "It looked like you were goin' to have a nervous breakdown if I didn't do something, Mr. Frodo," he said bowing his head.

The hobbits said nothing to each other for a while, and were silent when Miss Lila came running in. "Frodo-lad! You're all right!" She cried, rushing to Frodo's side. Frodo looked up at the Bree hobbit, and his spirits lifted a bit. "Lila!" Frodo gasped. She pulled him into a hug, he grunted in pain which caused her to remove herself from around him. Lila cleared her throat embarrassed. "Sorry," She muttered scratching her face. Frodo nodded before his mind brought him back to his main concern, his cousin. "You have to find Pippin! He was taken by a dragon!" He cried. Sam and Lila gave eachother glances wondering what he meant. "Dragon?" Sam and Lila said, in unison. Frodo nodded, clutching the sheets with his good hand.

Frodo began to explain his adventure across the shire to find Pippin in as much detail he could without rambling. Sam and Lila listened intently, wondering what parts were true and what parts weren't. By the time Frodo finished his tale, he could barely keep himself together, he buried his face in his hands in an attempt to compose himself. Miss Lila rubbed the small of his back, trying to calm him. He looked up at Sam with red eyes, he scrubbed his face roughly, sniffling. Samwise took Frodo's hand, also trying to bring some sort of peace to the hobbit. "Oh Sam, what am I to do? How am I going to tell Merry? Or worse, the Thain?" The halfling buried his face in his hand. Everyone was going to be so infuriated with him; he just knew they would. "Don't you worry none, Mr. Frodo. Things'll work out for the better, you'll see," Sam offered, trying his best to upbeat about the situation. Frodo stared blankly at his hands in response.

Miss Lila sighed, knowing if Frodo was going to get any better, Sam was just the person to help him. Rising from the bed she left the room quickly to fetch bandages and antibodies for Frodo's injuries. Lila was unaware she had passed Merry. He sat on the floor with his arms around his legs and his chin resting on his knees. Pippin, he thought, his hands balled into fist's, letting his legs fall straight. I'm going to find you, cousin. I promise. Making sure that no one was coming out of the room, Merry hurried down the hall, heading for the entrance of Bad End.


Pippin awoke with the wind beating hard against his back, trying to make its way around his body. He swallowed against his dry sore throat as the feeling slowly returned to his limbs. Pippin's fingers flexed slowly, his eyes opened slowly as their vision was slightly fogged. Pippin focused his blurred vision on a wrongly colored sky, a depressing shade of gray. "Frodo?" He moaned. It took another few moments to get himself into a managable state of mind, he looked around the surrounding area and saw nothing but gray skies as far as the eye could see. Slowly he climbed to his feet, Pippin struggled to stay conscious, his legs felt weak as the blood came rushing through them once again. Pippin cast his gaze downward and stared at his waist. There, he discovered a scar that extended upward to his chest but no further than that. His shirt was dried with blood, his vision was blurred still, yet he could see that dried blood was everywhere on his body.

His mind wandered while he turned slowly in a cricle, trying to figure out where he was exactly, when he remembered the dragon. Fear gripped his heart immediately, his green eyes darted from side to side. "Frodo, where are you?" He whispered.

The Ring . . . . .

Pippin jumped at the voice, it echoed in his mind like a voice that faded in a cave when. Pippin stepped back, his heart thudded hard in his chest and only seemed to increase in strength when his foot stepped past the edge. Peregrin felt his body sway over the edge of the cliffside, now realizing that was which he stood upon. His arms flailed about him in a circular motion through the air. He leaned forward as best he could, his feet planted themselves upon the ground and he moved away from the edge. He coughed choking on the dust that rose around him when he fell. Hastily he climbed back onto his feet.

Where is the ring? . . . . . Tell me!

Pippin jumped again, the harashness of the voice chilled him to the bone. Now more than ever, he was terrified; Breathing became difficult, the shift in the atmosphere caused the air to become thick and the foul smell hung the air once more returned. The dragon was returning! Pippin's stomach twisited with fear he turned around, searching for the origin of the voice.

You know of what I speak! Give me the ring! Now!

A horrible dark force engulfed his entire being forcing horrible images into his skull. Pippin's body convulsed violently as he fell to the ground. He tried with all his might to the force horrible morbid images from his head, but the enitiy's grip only strengthed the more he struggled. He felt as if his skull was going to explode. The air was pulled from his lungs, he wheezed desperately trying to inhale the oxygen that was taken from him.

I know all that is in your mind! Give me the ring! Now!

Pippin looked on in horror; images of Frodo, Sam and Merry being nailed to crosses assulted his mind. The four of them made not a sound, though their expressions were clearly in pain as the deformed creatures drove the nails deeper into their feet and hands. Once their task was done, they flitted the crosses fromt he ground and slid them into the prepared holes. Frodo, Sam, and Merry grunted as their bodies lurched forward then slamming into the back of their crosses. The rain beat down heavily upon their prone figures, washing their blood away down a path that used to be a road. Pippin broke out of the enity's hold on him. In a desprate attempt to escape, he rolled toward the edge. His body tumbled over the cliffside to what seemed to be his death. The last thing Pippin heard as he watched the winged beast take flight, the harsh voice.

Sauron will have the Ring!

He fell into a river below, loosing consciousness.


TBC

Authors note: That particular scene was inspired by "Idles Of March," (Xena:Warrior Princess).