Author's Note: I guess I'm getting these updates out faster than
anticipated, but I fear next week will be very busy and updates less
frequent.
IFF: Yeah, I think this story is turning out a bit longer than expected! What can I say!? I figured you did so many reviews for the last chapter because you just that excited about it! LOL.
Minty: I'm not sure we should allow you sharp, pointy things! You're beginning to sound a bit, um, deranged? Truly understandable, however.
ElevenPirate: I always wondered why Boromir carted that big heavy shield around. I mean was its purpose functional or decorative? Anyway, I figured it was about time he actually did something useful with it!
FrodoBaggins: Thanks for the wonderful review for "The Long Way Home". I'm really getting kind of addicted to this writing thing! My classwork is beginning to suffer.*sigh* I look forward to more of your tales!
Samwise the Strong: There simply is not enough quality Sam torture IMHO! Much too much Frodo suffering. I'm all about equal opportunity!
Aemilia, Bookworm 2000, Gamgeefest and Guumajo: I want to thank you guys so much for your numerous wonderfully encouraging reviews! I always get excited when you give feedback (maybe that's why I'm inspired to update quickly - I'm addicted to reviews!)
I also want to thank Wanda, Tinuviel, Three Fifthling mini-wraith, Kay, Amrun, ( I hope I didn't miss anyone) - You guys are the greatest! Your reviews really mean a lot to me. I know people don't have to review the stories they read, but I truly appreciate y'all letting me know what you thing. I hope you're still reading and enjoying this convoluted tale of woe! ____________________________________________________________________
Chapter 12 Samwise the Brave
Sam sat unmoving in the pouring rain. He was thinking hard about what just happened. He had been so happy to see Frodo standing there before him, but he was troubled by Frodo's request. Could Gandalf truly have been leading them into a trap? But, even Lord Elrond had agreed that the only place the Ring could be destroyed was in the fires of Mt. Doom. Yet, on the other hand, Frodo had never lied to him before. Sam leaned forward, resting his aching head in his hands. It was so hard to think. His mind couldn't wrap itself around all the things that had been happening to him since the avalanche. All he really wanted to do was crawl into a hole someplace and sleep. He raised his head, sighing despondently. Well, he could at least find a hole and get out of the rain. He was shivering more violently than ever and his body was suddenly wracked by a bout of deep, painful coughing. "Wonderful," he moaned aloud, "Now I'm gettin' sick on top of everything else! I might as well just throw myself off a cliff and be done with it!" For a moment, he seriously considered that prospect. But Sam, even as beaten down and wretched as he was, could never quite bring himself to do something so drastic and final. There was always a faint spark of hope dwelling quietly in the far reaches of his heart.
He struggled to his feet and lowering his head against the driving rain, began slogging through the deep mud in search of shelter. He finally located a narrow fissure in the ravine wall that provided at least the illusion of shelter. He crawled in and collapsed on the cold, damp rock. Hard as he fought to stay awake, he was so utterly exhausted, that he soon lost the battle and sleep overtook him.
When Sam awoke the next morning, the rain had stopped. He felt terrible. His throat hurt and the deep, rattling cough seemed worse than ever. Bouts of shivering left him feeling as if he had never slept. He crawled out of the crevice, his cramped muscles screaming in pain. Outside, in the gray morning light, the ravine was a sea of mud and large puddles Sam stood up stiffly and scooped some water from a rocky hollow. At least the rain allowed him to slake his thirst. If only he had some food. His last meal was just a distant memory.
He leaned against the rock and wearily pondered his next step. Should he attempt to return to Rivendell or should he fulfill his promise to Frodo and continue to Isengard? He closed his eyes for just a moment. Then, mechanically and without conscious thought, he turned southward and started walking. After a short distance, he stopped, frowning. What was he doing? It was strange, he considered, but as long as he moved willingly towards Isengard, his head no longer hurt so much and he experienced a feeling of tranquility. The pulling sensation actually made the journey seem effortless when he wasn't fighting against it. "Maybe Mr. Frodo was right," mused Sam numbly. "It's so much easier this way. Perhaps this is the way I'm supposed to go." Even if it wasn't, he simply didn't have the strength to fight any longer.
He stayed close to the ravine wall where there was less mud to deal with. He plodded along mindlessly, hour after hour, occasionally stopping when the bouts of coughing were upon him. It was well into the afternoon when he detected an unusual tromping sound behind him. He stopped and slowly turned towards the noise, frowning. It was only a few moments before a huge, black creature came trotting along the ravine, moving easily and tirelessly. "One of them Uruk-hai!' thought Sam wildly, feeling the familiar sense of fear, and yet, he also experienced a strong compulsion to cry out to the creature, making it aware of his presence. But some instinct stopped him. The Uruk was carrying something slung over its shoulder and as it approached the spot where Sam stood shrouded in shadows, the hobbit realized that that something was Merry!
The sight of his friend being carried off by the huge Uruk-hai galvanized Sam into action. He immediately understood that Merry must have been following him and the last thing Sam wanted was to be responsible for the death or injury of another of his friends. He had to do something! Scurrying out of the shadows, his short sword in his hand, Sam cried "Stop!"
The Uruk wheeled around, almost as if he had been expecting this, and faced the grim faced hobbit. "Well, what have we here?," the Uruk grunted curiously peering closely at the small figure standing before him. "Another halfling!" He studied Sam warily, then nodded. "I think you just might be the halfling I'm lookin' for. You look like things ain't been goin' too easy on you!" He smiled knowingly and began to reach towards Sam.
"Sam! Run!" croaked Merry struggling to see around the Uruk's broad back, "Get away!" The Uruk keeping his eyes fixed on Sam, absently dumped Merry onto the ground. Merry scuttled away, slipping in the mud, and ducked behind a boulder. He gasped in dismay as he finally spied Sam several feet away. Sam looked as if he had aged 20 years overnight. His face was haggard and his eyes sunken and red-rimmed with exhaustion. It appeared as if he could barely stand upright. "No, Sam!" Merry whispered in desperation, "Don't let it get you!" He reached for his own sword, groaning in frustration as he remembered the Uruk had taken it from him shortly after his capture.
But Sam was tired of running. He was tired of being used and victimized. But most of all, he was tired of seeing his friends suffer. Frodo was dead by Sam's own hand and now Merry was here because of him. Sam was not about to have the blood of another innocent soul on his head. "Yes! I'm the one you want," rasped Sam angrily, he could feel the pain growing in his head again, making it seem as if would explode. Saruman was not pleased with this turn of events.
The massive form of the Uruk cautiously circled around Sam. "So, rat," he sneered, "Just what do you think yer goin' to do with that little pin? Surely you don't think you can hurt me with it do you?" He laughed harshly but stopped abruptly when Sam suddenly disappeared from sight. "Hey! What's goin' on?" growled the Uruk in confusion, spinning around trying to catch a glimpse of the hobbit. "Where did you go?" He then howled in pain and surprise when Sam's sword caught him behind the knee. Whirling quickly, he almost grabbed the invisible Sam who just managed to dance out of the Uruk's groping reach. The Uruk was furious.The last thing he expected was to have to fight some half-grown rat. He roared again and that was when Sam found his opportunity. He rushed in and thrust his sword upward with all his might, finding the space between the Uruk's breastplate and his chest. It was with great satisfaction that Sam felt the sword slide home, burying itself deep into the creature's black heart. The Uruk snarled in rage, staggering several feet before finally collapsing into the mud, dead.
Sam stumbled backwards, away from the creature's body, gasping and coughing. It was then he realized how different the world looked under the power of the Ring. It was then that he felt the full force of the fiery Eye of Sauron. Sam stared, mesmerized by the sight. He might have stood there forever if another harsh voice hadn't broken the hypnotic spell.
"Come out now, halfling, or yer friend is done for!" Sam blinked and turned as if in a dream. Standing behind him, backed up to the ravine wall, was the Uruk, Gorek. He stood with Merry in his iron grip and holding a vicious looking dagger at the hobbit's exposed throat. Gorek was peering around, trying to figure out where Sam was. "Did you hear me, halfling?" he growled again, pressing the knife more firmly against Merry's throat, causing a thin trickle of blood.
Merry gasped in pain, but still had the courage to cry, "Sam! Never mind about me! Run!" He whimpered again as the Uruk's knife cut a little deeper into his tender flesh.
"Shut up, you!" Gorek snarled, still peering about. He called again. "I'm warnin' you now, halfling! Show yerself or this runt is as good as dead!'
IFF: Yeah, I think this story is turning out a bit longer than expected! What can I say!? I figured you did so many reviews for the last chapter because you just that excited about it! LOL.
Minty: I'm not sure we should allow you sharp, pointy things! You're beginning to sound a bit, um, deranged? Truly understandable, however.
ElevenPirate: I always wondered why Boromir carted that big heavy shield around. I mean was its purpose functional or decorative? Anyway, I figured it was about time he actually did something useful with it!
FrodoBaggins: Thanks for the wonderful review for "The Long Way Home". I'm really getting kind of addicted to this writing thing! My classwork is beginning to suffer.*sigh* I look forward to more of your tales!
Samwise the Strong: There simply is not enough quality Sam torture IMHO! Much too much Frodo suffering. I'm all about equal opportunity!
Aemilia, Bookworm 2000, Gamgeefest and Guumajo: I want to thank you guys so much for your numerous wonderfully encouraging reviews! I always get excited when you give feedback (maybe that's why I'm inspired to update quickly - I'm addicted to reviews!)
I also want to thank Wanda, Tinuviel, Three Fifthling mini-wraith, Kay, Amrun, ( I hope I didn't miss anyone) - You guys are the greatest! Your reviews really mean a lot to me. I know people don't have to review the stories they read, but I truly appreciate y'all letting me know what you thing. I hope you're still reading and enjoying this convoluted tale of woe! ____________________________________________________________________
Chapter 12 Samwise the Brave
Sam sat unmoving in the pouring rain. He was thinking hard about what just happened. He had been so happy to see Frodo standing there before him, but he was troubled by Frodo's request. Could Gandalf truly have been leading them into a trap? But, even Lord Elrond had agreed that the only place the Ring could be destroyed was in the fires of Mt. Doom. Yet, on the other hand, Frodo had never lied to him before. Sam leaned forward, resting his aching head in his hands. It was so hard to think. His mind couldn't wrap itself around all the things that had been happening to him since the avalanche. All he really wanted to do was crawl into a hole someplace and sleep. He raised his head, sighing despondently. Well, he could at least find a hole and get out of the rain. He was shivering more violently than ever and his body was suddenly wracked by a bout of deep, painful coughing. "Wonderful," he moaned aloud, "Now I'm gettin' sick on top of everything else! I might as well just throw myself off a cliff and be done with it!" For a moment, he seriously considered that prospect. But Sam, even as beaten down and wretched as he was, could never quite bring himself to do something so drastic and final. There was always a faint spark of hope dwelling quietly in the far reaches of his heart.
He struggled to his feet and lowering his head against the driving rain, began slogging through the deep mud in search of shelter. He finally located a narrow fissure in the ravine wall that provided at least the illusion of shelter. He crawled in and collapsed on the cold, damp rock. Hard as he fought to stay awake, he was so utterly exhausted, that he soon lost the battle and sleep overtook him.
When Sam awoke the next morning, the rain had stopped. He felt terrible. His throat hurt and the deep, rattling cough seemed worse than ever. Bouts of shivering left him feeling as if he had never slept. He crawled out of the crevice, his cramped muscles screaming in pain. Outside, in the gray morning light, the ravine was a sea of mud and large puddles Sam stood up stiffly and scooped some water from a rocky hollow. At least the rain allowed him to slake his thirst. If only he had some food. His last meal was just a distant memory.
He leaned against the rock and wearily pondered his next step. Should he attempt to return to Rivendell or should he fulfill his promise to Frodo and continue to Isengard? He closed his eyes for just a moment. Then, mechanically and without conscious thought, he turned southward and started walking. After a short distance, he stopped, frowning. What was he doing? It was strange, he considered, but as long as he moved willingly towards Isengard, his head no longer hurt so much and he experienced a feeling of tranquility. The pulling sensation actually made the journey seem effortless when he wasn't fighting against it. "Maybe Mr. Frodo was right," mused Sam numbly. "It's so much easier this way. Perhaps this is the way I'm supposed to go." Even if it wasn't, he simply didn't have the strength to fight any longer.
He stayed close to the ravine wall where there was less mud to deal with. He plodded along mindlessly, hour after hour, occasionally stopping when the bouts of coughing were upon him. It was well into the afternoon when he detected an unusual tromping sound behind him. He stopped and slowly turned towards the noise, frowning. It was only a few moments before a huge, black creature came trotting along the ravine, moving easily and tirelessly. "One of them Uruk-hai!' thought Sam wildly, feeling the familiar sense of fear, and yet, he also experienced a strong compulsion to cry out to the creature, making it aware of his presence. But some instinct stopped him. The Uruk was carrying something slung over its shoulder and as it approached the spot where Sam stood shrouded in shadows, the hobbit realized that that something was Merry!
The sight of his friend being carried off by the huge Uruk-hai galvanized Sam into action. He immediately understood that Merry must have been following him and the last thing Sam wanted was to be responsible for the death or injury of another of his friends. He had to do something! Scurrying out of the shadows, his short sword in his hand, Sam cried "Stop!"
The Uruk wheeled around, almost as if he had been expecting this, and faced the grim faced hobbit. "Well, what have we here?," the Uruk grunted curiously peering closely at the small figure standing before him. "Another halfling!" He studied Sam warily, then nodded. "I think you just might be the halfling I'm lookin' for. You look like things ain't been goin' too easy on you!" He smiled knowingly and began to reach towards Sam.
"Sam! Run!" croaked Merry struggling to see around the Uruk's broad back, "Get away!" The Uruk keeping his eyes fixed on Sam, absently dumped Merry onto the ground. Merry scuttled away, slipping in the mud, and ducked behind a boulder. He gasped in dismay as he finally spied Sam several feet away. Sam looked as if he had aged 20 years overnight. His face was haggard and his eyes sunken and red-rimmed with exhaustion. It appeared as if he could barely stand upright. "No, Sam!" Merry whispered in desperation, "Don't let it get you!" He reached for his own sword, groaning in frustration as he remembered the Uruk had taken it from him shortly after his capture.
But Sam was tired of running. He was tired of being used and victimized. But most of all, he was tired of seeing his friends suffer. Frodo was dead by Sam's own hand and now Merry was here because of him. Sam was not about to have the blood of another innocent soul on his head. "Yes! I'm the one you want," rasped Sam angrily, he could feel the pain growing in his head again, making it seem as if would explode. Saruman was not pleased with this turn of events.
The massive form of the Uruk cautiously circled around Sam. "So, rat," he sneered, "Just what do you think yer goin' to do with that little pin? Surely you don't think you can hurt me with it do you?" He laughed harshly but stopped abruptly when Sam suddenly disappeared from sight. "Hey! What's goin' on?" growled the Uruk in confusion, spinning around trying to catch a glimpse of the hobbit. "Where did you go?" He then howled in pain and surprise when Sam's sword caught him behind the knee. Whirling quickly, he almost grabbed the invisible Sam who just managed to dance out of the Uruk's groping reach. The Uruk was furious.The last thing he expected was to have to fight some half-grown rat. He roared again and that was when Sam found his opportunity. He rushed in and thrust his sword upward with all his might, finding the space between the Uruk's breastplate and his chest. It was with great satisfaction that Sam felt the sword slide home, burying itself deep into the creature's black heart. The Uruk snarled in rage, staggering several feet before finally collapsing into the mud, dead.
Sam stumbled backwards, away from the creature's body, gasping and coughing. It was then he realized how different the world looked under the power of the Ring. It was then that he felt the full force of the fiery Eye of Sauron. Sam stared, mesmerized by the sight. He might have stood there forever if another harsh voice hadn't broken the hypnotic spell.
"Come out now, halfling, or yer friend is done for!" Sam blinked and turned as if in a dream. Standing behind him, backed up to the ravine wall, was the Uruk, Gorek. He stood with Merry in his iron grip and holding a vicious looking dagger at the hobbit's exposed throat. Gorek was peering around, trying to figure out where Sam was. "Did you hear me, halfling?" he growled again, pressing the knife more firmly against Merry's throat, causing a thin trickle of blood.
Merry gasped in pain, but still had the courage to cry, "Sam! Never mind about me! Run!" He whimpered again as the Uruk's knife cut a little deeper into his tender flesh.
"Shut up, you!" Gorek snarled, still peering about. He called again. "I'm warnin' you now, halfling! Show yerself or this runt is as good as dead!'