Disclaimer: AU Story. The fourth large LOTR fic! My word, not another,
surely? The characters are not mine. The settings are not mine. The plot
is, however, my creation. I hope you find this an enjoyable read.
I am very annoyed at FanFiction for not letting me read *any* of my reviews and for deleting a lot that I sent. I have sent an email asking if they're actually gone but...ah well. Thank you very much for reviewing any how- this chapter is a little bit longer, to say how grateful I am. :-)
~ Chapter Twelve ~
The Ring called to Its bearer over and over, raking his dreams with evil visions in an attempt to rouse him. But Frodo was lost to the world, blood seeping through his shirt from the Morgul wound. The Ring sent message after angry message into the sky, to try and call the Nazgûl back, but it was merely circling the city, waiting for a more opportune chance. At last, a searing pain from his shoulder jerked Frodo into consciousness.
"Sam," he croaked, wondering where the caring hands had gone and why his friend had not answered his cry. Then he realised where he was. He sat up in terror, mud rising up between his fingers and sticking under his nails. He was lying at an awkward angle against the back of an inn. Half the wall had crumbled away into plaster-like shards, revealing the room beyond. Soldiers were crouched behind upturned tables and chairs.
Bodies were draped like cloth near the door and all the while Frodo could hear the whistle of arrows ringing in his ears. Putting an involuntary hand over the Ring, he crawled through the wrecked wall into the inn, crawling from one hiding-place to the next.
"Where do I go?" he asked the Ring softly.
*Onwards, precious, must go on.*
"Hey!"
Frodo started and looked round wildly. A soldier with a bloodied face was staring at him from the corner of the room.
"Hey," he said again, "What are you doing here, boy? You should have left days ago."
"I'm not a-"
"We have to get you somewhere safe. It's alright now," the man soothed as Frodo flinched away from his outstretched hand, "I'll look after you. Take my hand. Go on."
"No, please, you don't understand," the hobbit gasped. For a moment or two, he was free from the Ring's power and it fell from his grasp, tinkling down the chain with a sound like running water. The soldier gaped.
".The halfing." he breathed, "And a halfling forth shall stand. That's what they're saying in the city."
"I am that. Thank you for your offer but.I need to get out of here and into the city. Can you help me? Please, I must-"
"We are saved!" the man roared, leaping to his feet, "We can use the Ring for our own devices! Give It to me, halfling! Let me put an end to this!"
"No!" Frodo screamed feeling the Ring begin to glow with heat.
*Run, precious! Run!*
With faltering steps, Frodo stumbled away from the approaching soldier and fled for the door. What he saw outside, though, was nearly enough to make him turn back. The river was boiling and churning as bits of rubble tumbled through to its blood-soaked bed. Great balls of rock were flying through the air, crashing into towers and raining debris. Frodo felt infinitely small in those few seconds, so alone and frightened that he wanted to weep. But no, the Ring said someone was coming to take away all his suffering. Then he could go home and climb into bed and forget about all this. He would wake up the next morning with the sun spilling through the window as his beloved Sam pulled back the curtains and bid him a fine morning.
The hobbit was tugged unceremoniously back to reality as hands began pulling at him from behind. He tore away without looking back, the soldier's cries echoing loudly across the city.
"Let me finish it! Give me the Ring! Let me end this *war*!"
--
Sam stumbled along with the group, trying his very best to keep up with the rest of the rangers. Gollum loped along beside him, his breath coming in excited gasps.
"Not far.now, precious," he assured, "Soon we will both have the master back, hobbit."
Sam was too breathless to even throw back a scathing remark to this and concentrated on keeping his feet going, taking one step and then another. Finally, one man took pity on them and he and his companion bent down to carry them. But Gollum was having none of it.
"No! No! Sméagol does without help. Stupid men. Stupid foolish men will tie Sméagol up!"
When one of the men made to protest, Sam caught his eye.
"Don't bother yourself with him," the hobbit sighed, "He's a miserable creature but he'll do quite happily on his own."
So the army ran for Osgiliath, coming out of the thick tree groves and off the path at the sight of smoke filling the eastern horizon. They mounted a small rise and clambered up to its summit to view the damage. At the lead, Captain Faramir stopped and drew in breath. There, balanced like frail tree limb on the river, lay Osgiliath. Fires had broken out on turrets, the tiled roofs, the paved walkways and at almost every collapsed arch. Even from this distance, he could spot orcs and men alike leaping through the wreckage, here and there engaged in bitter combat. A sudden earth- shattering crash made the captain look up to see one of the mighty pillars splintering into dust. Another boulder was catapulted at it further down, exploding on impact, and Faramir thought he heard a scream.
"Is your.is the creature quite sure that your master is in there?" he asked Sam anxiously. The hobbit looked at Gollum who rolled his eyes impatiently.
"'Course we're sure! Stupid man knows nothing. Precious is leading master there. We hears him speak to It, try and fight with It, but the precious is too strong for master and so he goes. Precious is calling for the wraiths now.soon all will be done and all will be dead."
At these chilling words, Sam wriggled out of the ranger's grasp and dropped to the ground. As soon as he had caught his balance, he began to run. He ran like he could not ever remember running. He heard Faramir's frantic calls coming up close behind him but he did not care.
"Master!" he cried desperately, "Master, please, I'm coming!"
The heat from the city was intense. Sam could feel sweat prickling on his brow and the landscape wavered like a reflection under a thick veil of smoke. He began to cough and he had to slow his pace. It was thanks to this decrease in pace that he heard Faramir's scream.
"Samwise! Nazgûl! *Nazgul*!"
He fell flat on his face and, half a second later, he heard a shriek right overhead. There was an abrupt rush of air and Sam felt something jag the sleeve of his shirt. Then it was passed and the creature rose up into the smoky sky again. Gasping from shock, Sam sat up shakily and glanced at his arm. The sleeve had been ripped off from the elbow down and a deep gash was now bleeding readily on his dark skin.
"Samwise!"
The hobbit jumped and glanced up. The captain was bending over him and concern filled his eyes.
"Forgive me, Samwise, I did not see it until it was nearly on you! Thank goodness you are safe. Come, let one of my rangers bind your arm."
"No, there's no time for that!" Sam snapped, the shock beginning to fade, "If that black rider's flapping around here then it's not me he's after, is it? Mister Frodo's got to be nearby. I know it! I just know it! Come on!"
He grabbed Faramir's arm and started pulling him towards the nearest city opening. Osgiliath was a ruin. The house on their left was little more than a skeleton, the white bones of the stairway riding up like a spine through the wreckage.
"Where's he going to be?" Sam muttered to himself. The man could see his green eyes flicking from one side of the river to the other, up and down again, across and then above. His only concern was for his master and it filled Faramir's heart with pride. He wanted more than ever to help this child-like hero, he wanted to aid him in his task. "Come," he said, "Come, we are not safe so close to the river." As if to punctuate this statement, a black-flighted arrow buried itself into the pillar just behind them. "Quick! Behind here!"
They dived behind one of the rotten houses and began pushing their way through the fallen rubble to escape the narrow alleyway and reach higher ground. From here, if they looked back, they could make out the rest of the army streaming down the hillside, swords and spears raised in readiness for their attack. Both companions flinched as another screech rent the air.
"We haven't got no more time! Where is he?" Sam cried despairingly.
"We'll keep looking. We'll find him and we'll get him out of here," Faramir assured him. He bent down and pressed his forehead to that of the wide-eyed hobbit. "I'm going to get you out."
"Fat hobbit! Sam!"
The scream echoed across the city and Sam leaped upright, almost knocking the captain out in the process. But he could see him. Gollum had clambered up onto a house rafter and was waving frantically across at the only person he knew who could save them then. He was pointing across the river to a slice of white wall and calling,
"Sam must save the precious! Sam must save his Frodo!"
I am very annoyed at FanFiction for not letting me read *any* of my reviews and for deleting a lot that I sent. I have sent an email asking if they're actually gone but...ah well. Thank you very much for reviewing any how- this chapter is a little bit longer, to say how grateful I am. :-)
~ Chapter Twelve ~
The Ring called to Its bearer over and over, raking his dreams with evil visions in an attempt to rouse him. But Frodo was lost to the world, blood seeping through his shirt from the Morgul wound. The Ring sent message after angry message into the sky, to try and call the Nazgûl back, but it was merely circling the city, waiting for a more opportune chance. At last, a searing pain from his shoulder jerked Frodo into consciousness.
"Sam," he croaked, wondering where the caring hands had gone and why his friend had not answered his cry. Then he realised where he was. He sat up in terror, mud rising up between his fingers and sticking under his nails. He was lying at an awkward angle against the back of an inn. Half the wall had crumbled away into plaster-like shards, revealing the room beyond. Soldiers were crouched behind upturned tables and chairs.
Bodies were draped like cloth near the door and all the while Frodo could hear the whistle of arrows ringing in his ears. Putting an involuntary hand over the Ring, he crawled through the wrecked wall into the inn, crawling from one hiding-place to the next.
"Where do I go?" he asked the Ring softly.
*Onwards, precious, must go on.*
"Hey!"
Frodo started and looked round wildly. A soldier with a bloodied face was staring at him from the corner of the room.
"Hey," he said again, "What are you doing here, boy? You should have left days ago."
"I'm not a-"
"We have to get you somewhere safe. It's alright now," the man soothed as Frodo flinched away from his outstretched hand, "I'll look after you. Take my hand. Go on."
"No, please, you don't understand," the hobbit gasped. For a moment or two, he was free from the Ring's power and it fell from his grasp, tinkling down the chain with a sound like running water. The soldier gaped.
".The halfing." he breathed, "And a halfling forth shall stand. That's what they're saying in the city."
"I am that. Thank you for your offer but.I need to get out of here and into the city. Can you help me? Please, I must-"
"We are saved!" the man roared, leaping to his feet, "We can use the Ring for our own devices! Give It to me, halfling! Let me put an end to this!"
"No!" Frodo screamed feeling the Ring begin to glow with heat.
*Run, precious! Run!*
With faltering steps, Frodo stumbled away from the approaching soldier and fled for the door. What he saw outside, though, was nearly enough to make him turn back. The river was boiling and churning as bits of rubble tumbled through to its blood-soaked bed. Great balls of rock were flying through the air, crashing into towers and raining debris. Frodo felt infinitely small in those few seconds, so alone and frightened that he wanted to weep. But no, the Ring said someone was coming to take away all his suffering. Then he could go home and climb into bed and forget about all this. He would wake up the next morning with the sun spilling through the window as his beloved Sam pulled back the curtains and bid him a fine morning.
The hobbit was tugged unceremoniously back to reality as hands began pulling at him from behind. He tore away without looking back, the soldier's cries echoing loudly across the city.
"Let me finish it! Give me the Ring! Let me end this *war*!"
--
Sam stumbled along with the group, trying his very best to keep up with the rest of the rangers. Gollum loped along beside him, his breath coming in excited gasps.
"Not far.now, precious," he assured, "Soon we will both have the master back, hobbit."
Sam was too breathless to even throw back a scathing remark to this and concentrated on keeping his feet going, taking one step and then another. Finally, one man took pity on them and he and his companion bent down to carry them. But Gollum was having none of it.
"No! No! Sméagol does without help. Stupid men. Stupid foolish men will tie Sméagol up!"
When one of the men made to protest, Sam caught his eye.
"Don't bother yourself with him," the hobbit sighed, "He's a miserable creature but he'll do quite happily on his own."
So the army ran for Osgiliath, coming out of the thick tree groves and off the path at the sight of smoke filling the eastern horizon. They mounted a small rise and clambered up to its summit to view the damage. At the lead, Captain Faramir stopped and drew in breath. There, balanced like frail tree limb on the river, lay Osgiliath. Fires had broken out on turrets, the tiled roofs, the paved walkways and at almost every collapsed arch. Even from this distance, he could spot orcs and men alike leaping through the wreckage, here and there engaged in bitter combat. A sudden earth- shattering crash made the captain look up to see one of the mighty pillars splintering into dust. Another boulder was catapulted at it further down, exploding on impact, and Faramir thought he heard a scream.
"Is your.is the creature quite sure that your master is in there?" he asked Sam anxiously. The hobbit looked at Gollum who rolled his eyes impatiently.
"'Course we're sure! Stupid man knows nothing. Precious is leading master there. We hears him speak to It, try and fight with It, but the precious is too strong for master and so he goes. Precious is calling for the wraiths now.soon all will be done and all will be dead."
At these chilling words, Sam wriggled out of the ranger's grasp and dropped to the ground. As soon as he had caught his balance, he began to run. He ran like he could not ever remember running. He heard Faramir's frantic calls coming up close behind him but he did not care.
"Master!" he cried desperately, "Master, please, I'm coming!"
The heat from the city was intense. Sam could feel sweat prickling on his brow and the landscape wavered like a reflection under a thick veil of smoke. He began to cough and he had to slow his pace. It was thanks to this decrease in pace that he heard Faramir's scream.
"Samwise! Nazgûl! *Nazgul*!"
He fell flat on his face and, half a second later, he heard a shriek right overhead. There was an abrupt rush of air and Sam felt something jag the sleeve of his shirt. Then it was passed and the creature rose up into the smoky sky again. Gasping from shock, Sam sat up shakily and glanced at his arm. The sleeve had been ripped off from the elbow down and a deep gash was now bleeding readily on his dark skin.
"Samwise!"
The hobbit jumped and glanced up. The captain was bending over him and concern filled his eyes.
"Forgive me, Samwise, I did not see it until it was nearly on you! Thank goodness you are safe. Come, let one of my rangers bind your arm."
"No, there's no time for that!" Sam snapped, the shock beginning to fade, "If that black rider's flapping around here then it's not me he's after, is it? Mister Frodo's got to be nearby. I know it! I just know it! Come on!"
He grabbed Faramir's arm and started pulling him towards the nearest city opening. Osgiliath was a ruin. The house on their left was little more than a skeleton, the white bones of the stairway riding up like a spine through the wreckage.
"Where's he going to be?" Sam muttered to himself. The man could see his green eyes flicking from one side of the river to the other, up and down again, across and then above. His only concern was for his master and it filled Faramir's heart with pride. He wanted more than ever to help this child-like hero, he wanted to aid him in his task. "Come," he said, "Come, we are not safe so close to the river." As if to punctuate this statement, a black-flighted arrow buried itself into the pillar just behind them. "Quick! Behind here!"
They dived behind one of the rotten houses and began pushing their way through the fallen rubble to escape the narrow alleyway and reach higher ground. From here, if they looked back, they could make out the rest of the army streaming down the hillside, swords and spears raised in readiness for their attack. Both companions flinched as another screech rent the air.
"We haven't got no more time! Where is he?" Sam cried despairingly.
"We'll keep looking. We'll find him and we'll get him out of here," Faramir assured him. He bent down and pressed his forehead to that of the wide-eyed hobbit. "I'm going to get you out."
"Fat hobbit! Sam!"
The scream echoed across the city and Sam leaped upright, almost knocking the captain out in the process. But he could see him. Gollum had clambered up onto a house rafter and was waving frantically across at the only person he knew who could save them then. He was pointing across the river to a slice of white wall and calling,
"Sam must save the precious! Sam must save his Frodo!"