Her Promise of Death
Summary: Frodo's POV in Shelob's Lair. 'There, behind him, beheld a creature, twisted in her rage and repulsiveness…'
Rating: PG --- use of a swear word, and you might call it 'scary images' ;) (no sex, or slash at all)
Genre: Angst/Horror
A/N: I really wanted to write about what I thought had happened when Frodo was being chased by Shelob, since it's never really described it much in the books. Obviously, spoilers to those who don't read the books and are waiting for ROTK. (whee! Can't wait!) I do not own Frodo or Sam sadly, and thank goodness, Shelob isn't mine. Just borrowing them from the great mind of Tolkien!
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Light. Light? Was it possible in such a place. Sting lay heavy in his shaky hand, and a dim light peeked through the opening it cut. The passage was cleared and an overpowering rush of ecstasy filled his mind. Run. Run out towards the end of this festering torment.
The light drew ever so faintly and it stung his weak eyes, still used to the endless dark he had been crawling through for many a day. O, how he groped through the nights with his raw hands! With Gollum in his own lead and Sam behind his every step, he went on, looking for a glimmer of hope. Now his hope was shining on him, warming his very skin, and he would not let it slip away.
"The pass, Sam! The pass! Run, run, and we'll be through---through before anyone can stop us!" He cried to Sam, his voice shrill and clear. He still ran, his mind still focused on that one hope. The same hope that shone through Sam's comforting words when he spoke of faith. He had despaired on those words before, but now they burned in his chest and he began to believe in the stories Sam had trusted in…and their happy endings.
Dear Sam. He needn't worry about Sam now; his footsteps followed his like a shadow and they echoed against the cold walls with his.
Then another pair of footsteps came. No, not a pair---much more then a pair, and suddenly, it seemed as if the light was dying and his hope shattered.
"Look out behind! Look out behind, Master! I'm---" Then Sam's cry of warning stopped short and Frodo panicked. His steps faltered and he stumbled as he turned his head. A silent scream of horror escaped his lips and his body collided against the stone-carved walls.
There, behind him, beheld a creature, twisted in her rage and repulsiveness. Her hellish eyes were fixed on him and her legs crawled towards him in a furious speed. His flesh and blood was what she yearned for and death was all she promised in her lair.
There was nothing he could do but run, run straight. The cave echoed with her hissing and her mouth frothed and bubbled with poison. He turned sharply and ran onto a different path, a mere crevice in her den and at last he deemed he lost her. He still ran and for a moment he thought she had ran back to get Sam, a vulnerable victim. Sam! His heart dropped and he dashed back, his hand on the hilt of Sting.
He stumbled in the dark to the entrance of the crevice, and the valor and love that made him run back to Sam shrank, and his knees gave-way. It was a trap. A trap of misery and suffering and no way out. She rose out of the gloom and pressed her body towards her prey. The sword he drew for his defense fell out of his hand as she leaned over him. He was terrified and he fell and cowered under her belly. His head throbbed and blood ran down his brow. Her terrible head bent besides his and she pricked his exposed neck. He felt all pain---then he felt none.
So this is death. Please…not like this, not here or now…
Then Shelob lifted up his feet, black and bruised from his journey that was ending, and she started to spin a tight blanket around him. He wanted to struggle but his arms were lifeless and he lost all sense of touch. The Ring was no longer heavy round his neck and for the first time, the burdened lifted and he was free from the evil of the Ring. But was he free, free now? Her stench engulfed his mind and his breath was drawing short. His tongue was swollen and his throat was dry. He screamed and wept, but his mouth did not move. It was the bursting agony from his heart.
This is where my story ends…there is no ending for this story….Bilbo. Bilbo…
Darkness blanketed his eyes and a mist of smoky grey blurred his vision. All his senses had been taken by Shelob's shadow---except for the inaudible sounds he heard. Nothing. Nothing at all. No crickets chirping, wind blowing, or footsteps coming to his rescue. All he heard was the monster's rapid breathing, impatiently waiting to suck the life out of him. He was no longer panicked nor afraid, but alone. Alone with his own suffering and dark thoughts. Alone without the comfort of the fire in Bag End. Alone without the incense smoking out of his pipe. Alone without Sam.
Sam, Samwise---w-where are you? I need you. I need your secure hands in mine. I need you to support my weight and hold me until my death. I want to be back in the Shire, not here. Don't forget me…don't forget…
His thought slipped and all went black…except for a growing light, shining bright like--like a star. Although, no warmth came from this star and he despaired. His breath shuddered and he went cold.
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