Warning: Some inappropriate touching occurs, but nothing more! This is not leading up to slash either. I usually don't write this kind of stuff, but sometimes it comes out.
* * *
Chapter 2: The Gift
Emptiness. All around him, he felt it. His chest burned ice cold, the pain flaring on and off as he breathed. There was no comfort here. Not even unconsciousness could ease the horrible feeling.
Frodo rolled to his side and moaned. At least he could move. He pushed himself into sitting position, one hand clutching his chest. Why did it hurt so much? The last thing he remembered was riding hard on a horse then falling into water.
Now he was in an unfamiliar place. He opened his eyes to grey - like ash - colored the flat floor. The surface was cold and hard like smooth marble. The iciness sunk into his bones. Frodo slowly raised his head. There wasn't much to take in. All around him was a blur, as far as was visible. He rubbed his eyes was one hand, but it didn't not clear the haze.
Every breath he drew pained him, and he felt the need to lie down again. His mind was befuddled, like thinking through mud. Nothing was processing but the pain and the cold. He pushed himself to turn to see behind him. Everything around him was still blurred save for who stood near - a man of dark complexion. His tunic was tattered and stained, whelps covered his skin. His eyes gleamed in a red tint, and the leering smile on his face made Frodo's stomach turn. He closed his eyes, trying desperately to remember what happened after falling into water.
"I claimed you." The dark man spoke, reading his thoughts. "To Mordor I will take you."
Frodo fell onto his back, clutching his chest. The skulked fingers pressed against him. Though he could feel them, there were none present. Then suddenly, real pressure was there. Frodo's eyes snapped open, horror flooding them. The dark man was kneeling beside him, leaning over him. The other large hand rested on Frodo's brow.
"You are mine until we reach Mordor" the dark man said, a strange delighted tone.
"Who are you?" asked Frodo, hoarsely.
A clouded look materialized on his face. "I have forgotten who I am." Ages ago, he was feared by many - his name being Gazza-ta, of a black tribe of Númenorians. The clouded look melted into a wicked, pleasured smile. "I know who you are - Baggins."
Frodo's heart nearly leapt in his throat at the mention of his last name. The Black Riders. The chase. The Ring. It all came back in a sudden shock that made him tremble uncontrollably. He stared, wide-eyed and frightened, at the dark man. He was a Ringwraith; the one who pulled him from atop the horse. Frightened, Frodo scooted backwards until he abruptly hit something solid - a wall.
"If I cannot leave then you shall not either."
"What is this place?" Frodo asked, eyes darting every which way but at the man advancing on him. "Why am I here?"
"The Invisible Realm. I am trapped here forever, in a state of misery. I hunger. I thirst." With every slow step taken by Gazza-ta, an eerie presence molded around them. Fire danced in his eyes. "I have no one. I have seen no one. I have touched no one. He sent me here, imprisoned me. I am at his command until he releases me. But, he will not release me ever.
"I've been given a gift, one he does not know of yet." Delight flowed in his speech again. "I've claimed you. You belong to me until we reach Mordor."
Something strange happened then that Frodo could not stop. He collapsed to the floor like a boneless fish. He cried out, but no sound escaped. His vision grew dim, only shadows were present. He felt himself being pulled into hairy bare arms, being pressed tightly to a chilled body.
"I can touch you. I can feel you. I can feel again" Gazza-ta whispered closely to Frodo's ear. "I will touch you as I please."
The dark man caressed his captive's cheek, rubbing his fingers back and forth. The fingers ran roughly down Frodo's neck to his chest. The sickening feeling made his skin crawl, and his stomach twisted painfully. Warm tears rolled down his cheeks, and Gazza-ta licked them away. His large hand slapped underneath Frodo's left thigh, squeezing it tightly.
The dark man pulled Frodo even closer, positioning him as if he were holding a child. He wrapped his arms around Frodo, and rocked back and forth as he held him. Still, Frodo's tears and nausea did not cease. He longed for relief but found none.
* * *
The farther the Ringwraith's rode, the more deserted the presence of the Ring felt. They had found Baggins. They're mission was nearly accomplished. The Wraith who held the poor, unconscious hobbit halted suddenly. The other Black Riders halted as well, feeling their companion's dismay.
The Wraith searched Baggins' clothes and person, rummaging not-too-gentle over the small body. Nothing, he found. No Ring. He let out an ear-piercing shriek of anger. The other's could sense what was wrong, and vexed him to discard of the unconscious body. But he would not let it go. He pulled the hobbit close to his sunken figure then turned back the way they had come. The gift he would keep until it was found in his possession. The Ring drew him and he could not ignore it, but he would not throw aside the only pleasure he had felt in what seemed like forever.
* * *
Chapter 2: The Gift
Emptiness. All around him, he felt it. His chest burned ice cold, the pain flaring on and off as he breathed. There was no comfort here. Not even unconsciousness could ease the horrible feeling.
Frodo rolled to his side and moaned. At least he could move. He pushed himself into sitting position, one hand clutching his chest. Why did it hurt so much? The last thing he remembered was riding hard on a horse then falling into water.
Now he was in an unfamiliar place. He opened his eyes to grey - like ash - colored the flat floor. The surface was cold and hard like smooth marble. The iciness sunk into his bones. Frodo slowly raised his head. There wasn't much to take in. All around him was a blur, as far as was visible. He rubbed his eyes was one hand, but it didn't not clear the haze.
Every breath he drew pained him, and he felt the need to lie down again. His mind was befuddled, like thinking through mud. Nothing was processing but the pain and the cold. He pushed himself to turn to see behind him. Everything around him was still blurred save for who stood near - a man of dark complexion. His tunic was tattered and stained, whelps covered his skin. His eyes gleamed in a red tint, and the leering smile on his face made Frodo's stomach turn. He closed his eyes, trying desperately to remember what happened after falling into water.
"I claimed you." The dark man spoke, reading his thoughts. "To Mordor I will take you."
Frodo fell onto his back, clutching his chest. The skulked fingers pressed against him. Though he could feel them, there were none present. Then suddenly, real pressure was there. Frodo's eyes snapped open, horror flooding them. The dark man was kneeling beside him, leaning over him. The other large hand rested on Frodo's brow.
"You are mine until we reach Mordor" the dark man said, a strange delighted tone.
"Who are you?" asked Frodo, hoarsely.
A clouded look materialized on his face. "I have forgotten who I am." Ages ago, he was feared by many - his name being Gazza-ta, of a black tribe of Númenorians. The clouded look melted into a wicked, pleasured smile. "I know who you are - Baggins."
Frodo's heart nearly leapt in his throat at the mention of his last name. The Black Riders. The chase. The Ring. It all came back in a sudden shock that made him tremble uncontrollably. He stared, wide-eyed and frightened, at the dark man. He was a Ringwraith; the one who pulled him from atop the horse. Frightened, Frodo scooted backwards until he abruptly hit something solid - a wall.
"If I cannot leave then you shall not either."
"What is this place?" Frodo asked, eyes darting every which way but at the man advancing on him. "Why am I here?"
"The Invisible Realm. I am trapped here forever, in a state of misery. I hunger. I thirst." With every slow step taken by Gazza-ta, an eerie presence molded around them. Fire danced in his eyes. "I have no one. I have seen no one. I have touched no one. He sent me here, imprisoned me. I am at his command until he releases me. But, he will not release me ever.
"I've been given a gift, one he does not know of yet." Delight flowed in his speech again. "I've claimed you. You belong to me until we reach Mordor."
Something strange happened then that Frodo could not stop. He collapsed to the floor like a boneless fish. He cried out, but no sound escaped. His vision grew dim, only shadows were present. He felt himself being pulled into hairy bare arms, being pressed tightly to a chilled body.
"I can touch you. I can feel you. I can feel again" Gazza-ta whispered closely to Frodo's ear. "I will touch you as I please."
The dark man caressed his captive's cheek, rubbing his fingers back and forth. The fingers ran roughly down Frodo's neck to his chest. The sickening feeling made his skin crawl, and his stomach twisted painfully. Warm tears rolled down his cheeks, and Gazza-ta licked them away. His large hand slapped underneath Frodo's left thigh, squeezing it tightly.
The dark man pulled Frodo even closer, positioning him as if he were holding a child. He wrapped his arms around Frodo, and rocked back and forth as he held him. Still, Frodo's tears and nausea did not cease. He longed for relief but found none.
* * *
The farther the Ringwraith's rode, the more deserted the presence of the Ring felt. They had found Baggins. They're mission was nearly accomplished. The Wraith who held the poor, unconscious hobbit halted suddenly. The other Black Riders halted as well, feeling their companion's dismay.
The Wraith searched Baggins' clothes and person, rummaging not-too-gentle over the small body. Nothing, he found. No Ring. He let out an ear-piercing shriek of anger. The other's could sense what was wrong, and vexed him to discard of the unconscious body. But he would not let it go. He pulled the hobbit close to his sunken figure then turned back the way they had come. The gift he would keep until it was found in his possession. The Ring drew him and he could not ignore it, but he would not throw aside the only pleasure he had felt in what seemed like forever.