Yes, I know, I'm a terrible person. Got to get better at this updating
jazz! *ducks back into cave to avoid volley of arrows* Heh heh... I BEG
MERCY! *hobbit eyes*
THANK YOU SHIRE!ELF!! glad you don't get tired of it! ^_~ *chocolate covered shrooms!* My beta, you know, so's I won't go making mortifying mistakes like in chapter one! (Got Frodo's shoulders mixed up, it's his LEFT! *taps noes* Don't be hasty) So people, go read her stuff, 'cause they're the kind of stories where you really have to press yourself to get over your shock at how great the story was and move on to her next one!
Anyways!
Chapter 4 ~ Orcish
Horrible images flashed before Sam's eyes.
He saw himself being dragged in, struggling and kicking and cursing, surrounded by a victorious throng of orcs through the door of the tower. He saw Frodo in the background, already covered in welts and being held back by a huge Uruk-hai as he fought desperately to run to Sam, frantically calling his gardener's name.
"Sam! Sam!! NO! SAM!!"
Sam watched his could-be self whirl around and gape at Frodo in shock.
All at once, one of the orcs yanking Sam along got tired with his resistance, and caught him a dizzying blow to his temple. Sam groaned and slumped, but didn't pass out. Instead, he continued blinking bemused eyes at Frodo. Frodo screamed as he watched Sam fall.
"NOO!!" And with a wild, fear and rage driven strength, Frodo somehow managed to yank his arm free of the Uruk's iron grip. In a blind burst of adrenaline, the little hobbit lunged, catching the Urak-hai's hand in his teeth. With a crunch of bone scraping bone, Frodo ripped the Uruk's knuckles clean out of its blackened skin.
The Uruk-hai roared, and Frodo was thrown into the ground, black blood dripping from his mouth. He sprang right back up, and snatched the confused and enraged creature's sword out of its scabbard, and holding it in both hands, swung it clumsily into the Uruk's knee. There was a horrible crack, and the Uruk fell.
Sam watched all this in complete disbelief, his mouth hanging open. He was terrified by the animal void of Frodo's eyes, like a wounded and cornered wolf's.
The May-be Sam was being dragged along by his hair down the corridor, nearing a corner at the end of it. None of the orcs seemed to notice the tiny, beaten figure panting for breath behind them over a felled Uruk-hai, clutching a bloodied orc sword much to big for him in white, shaking hands, swaying violently in front of the still open gate to Barad-dur.
Frodo hesitated for only a second, casting one longing gaze at the unbarred gate leading out of this hell, before hefting up his huge orc blade and running after Sam.
"NO!" the Sam watching all this screamed desperately, lurching forward to stop the Could-Be from running straight to his doom. But Frodo's madly gleaming eyes didn't even waver, and Sam realized, he was helpless. He was completely invisible, and powerless to stop the haunting reality pulsing around him.
Sam swayed and his vision blurred, even as Frodo reached the throng of orcs and swung recklessly at the nearest monsters bearing the semi-conscious Sam. A shower of black orc blood spurted through the air, but was soon joined by a spray of red and a cracking scream.
Frodo teetered and fell, a horrible, jagged lash ripped across his chest. And then the orcs pounced.
Sam couldn't help it any more. His eyes rolled back and he fainted, Frodo's screams still ringing in his ears.
"Whadda ya reckon it is?"
"How the fug should I know? Easy meat is all I'm thinkin'."
"Na, don't go killing it yet, ya better wait 'till the Cap'm gets back."
Sam groaned softly, thousands of blinding stars blinking around inside his head. His mind pulsed with the beat of their dancing, faster, faster, faster. . . and the voices only added to the rhythmic pounding in his ears. Valar, did Sam have a headache.
"Might be one 'na dem halfling rats," a low, rough voice was barking. Sam felt like he should be afraid, the star's dance was trying to tell him something, but he was too tired to figure out what. "The Cap'd be right pleased if it was, might even give us second rations."
"Ya know the boss'd never do that." The first voice Sam had heard floating through the fog of his mind spoke again. "He 'ardly keeps us alive as it is. 'E'd never cough up extra food. Flog us more he'd do." Yes, this was the voice that had told the other not to kill him, was it not? This voice was slightly higher than the other one was, not by much, but perceptibly so. It sounded more worn and hoarse as opposed to the second, throatier voice.
And it sounded scared.
Sam blinked slowly, two grayish blobs were bobbing over him. The stars gave one last warning blink as they drifted slowly into the back of his mind, the song diminishing along with them.
The burning eye faded as well. Sam's head cracked with pain. For some reason he knew he should be frightened or relieved, but he couldn't find the energy for either.
The lower voice was growling again. "Flog /us/? Who said anything about /us/? If anyone's gonna be handin' this thing ova to Shagrat, it's gonna be you."
There was a short pause. The blob's were beginning to focus.
"Well, what if he'd be likin' it? Looks like it'd be me getting the second ale, iffin it was /me/ that brought it to 'em."
"If that'd be what happened, then you'd be getten flogged by me. Take yer pick, half-swallow."
Sam's head took one last stinging pang, and everything slid back into focus.
Well, for a moment. Before Sam's mind could take in a thing, a painful talon encased his entire lower arm in an iron grip, and he was hauled dizzyingly to his feet.
"Lookit, the mite's awake."
Sam's eyes went huge. A black and fearsome Uruk-hai was leering down at him, appraising him like some sheep or cow ready for the butcher, it's rotten breath nearly making Sam gag.
Next to it stood a little orc, bristling and spider-like, running its tongue over sharp, white little teeth as it peered at him, too. Its skin was a pale gray, with an angry white scar slashed across the center of its face, and many other reddish and black relics of its mutation. Its gaunt face was framed by two long, grotesquely pointed orc ears, which dangled with rusty metal and bleached bone orcish jewelry.
It glared at Sam sharply, the icy, electric blue of its eyes so cold it burned. Behind it, Destiny's Muse floated past on an adjacent corridor, her identical, animalistic eyes never straying from their fixed point straight ahead.
Sam's blood ran so cold it must have frozen, because his heart certainly didn't beat for several seconds.
Frodo stared into Sam's eyes, seeing in so deep it was like gazing through a window onto a life lost and forgotten. Sam stared back, and watched his friend's eyes soften as they beheld more pleasant images, reflections of memories he had forgotten, little tokens that were all Frodo had left of the Shire. The little orc broke eye contact first, blinking and casting his gaze to the floor. He growled low in his throat, not out of anger or fear, but confusion. He didn't know what else to do.
Sam wondered why tears wouldn't come, as his eyes prickled and burned. But his were not the only ones. A third eye burned along with his own.
The Uruk-hai was speaking. "Here, you, take the mite back ta my quarters, an don't let any of da others see we have it. And don't ya even think about havin' a midnight snack."
"You take it back, I'm not missin' my only meal again. We got watch tonight too, and there's no way I'm standin' all night out there on an empty stomach."
The Uruk growled angrily, and Sam could just see Frodo flinch beneath his baggy orc rags. "You'll take it back an' keep it hidden 'till I see if it's worth anythin'. An' if you try anything gutsy, I'll tell Number One it was you who let them other halfling rats go. Ya hear?"
Sam watched the small amount of blood in Frodo's face drain away, and judging by how he quaked, the Uruk had come dangerously close to the truth.
Sam suddenly found himself wondering what happened to Merry and Pippin.
Frodo hissed angrily and grabbed the offered rope from the Uruk-hai's hand, tying it tightly around Sam's neck before the shocked hobbit could even cry at the irony.
The Uruk snorted his approval and stomped away. Frodo swore at his back.
"Come on, you," he snapped, yanking on Sam's lead. Sam stumbled and followed obediently down the filthy stone corridor, unable to think of anything else to do. Frodo didn't look at him, keeping his angry eyes busy glaring at the few other underling orcs they passed, barring his teeth occasionally as to ward off a possible attack. Sam noticed he kept his scarred hand gripped on the handle of a small sheathed blade in his belt. Sam didn't blame him. He was by far the shortest orc around.
One particularly large orc moved to snatch Frodo by the neck, but the twisted hobbit ducked quickly and pulled out his dagger, breathing hard. The orc leered down at him, his amber eyes flickering from Sam back to Frodo.
"Whatcha got there, maggot-" Frodo didn't give him a chance to finish, scurrying away before things got ugly, Sam scampering along in his wake.
Finally, Frodo and Sam reached a rotting wooden door at the end of the hallway. Frodo kicked it open and, still pulling Sam along by the neck, jerked his companion inside. Sam squeaked at the pain in his neck, and looked up at Frodo with a bruised soul. The two halflings had walked together so many times before, but now everything was so wrong.
Frodo looked blankly back at Sam, and again looked away, something like fear flickering behind his scars. There was a pause, as Frodo tied Sam's lead to a post on a crude bed collapsing in a corner, and Sam shivered with indecision.
Frodo suddenly yelped like a dog and whirled around, staring at Sam with eyes so frantic and wild he looked the maddest he had yet.
"What are you!?!" he demanded shrilly, messaging his left shoulder as though it pained him. A wraith screeched outside. "What are you? SPEAK!"
Sam backed up, startled by Frodo's sudden outburst, but stuttered. "I-I'm a, a hobbit, I'm. . ." but Sam stopped. He couldn't take the pain of Frodo not remembering. Not again.
Frodo was staring at him intently, fixing his eyes with such a sharp blue glow it made Sam feel uncomfortable to blink. He was still breathing hard, but seemed to have calmed down a little. He dropped his hand from his shoulder.
"A hobbit," he whispered, trying out the word for himself.
Sam nodded tiredly, a new sadness gnawing at his heart. "A hobbit."
Frodo's eyes fixed on something so far away, a life and a death separated the memory from the soul that longed for it so. Such a sorrow floated in the little orc's eyes, an onlooker would suddenly not think the seas so big, nor the stars so bright.
Sam died a little death as he watched Frodo grieve for what he couldn't even remember. For Sam, the Light of Earendil would never be quite so bright again.
Frodo looked up slowly, as though the weight of the world was dangling around his neck. Like it once had. "My name is Maznak," he mumbled softly, by way of a small comfort.
That did it for Sam. Galadrial's starglass flickered and died, and Sam was angry. He'd loved the Lady's light.
"NO!" he hollered furiously, screaming the one word that all of his recent emotions could be crammed under. Frodo jumped and bristled, his hand flying to his dagger. "NO!" he yelled again, "No! That's not your name! Your name is Frodo! Frodo Baggins! Ya hear me?" Sam yanked at the cord around his neck so hard, he pulled the bedpost clear off the rotting frame. Sam watched the splinters snap and fall to the floor, broken bits of what had once held the bed upright.
Sam swayed and sunk to the floor, staring at the broken shards of wood and clasping at the rope around his neck. "Frodo," he whispered to himself, so he wouldn't forget. "Frodo Baggins of the Shire."
Sam didn't know how long he'd stared into eternity, but eventually he felt a movement next to him, and looked up to see a very white and wide-eyed Frodo grabbing him by the collar and cramming him under the collapsed bed.
"Stay down," Frodo hissed, pushing Sam's curly head out of sight. Frodo paused for a half second, examining Sam's hobbit locks, raising a hand to brush them back from Sam's forehead. The little orc narrowed his eyes and spun around hurriedly. But Sam saw him raise a quivering hand to his own dark curls, where they flopped over his eyes.
It was as Frodo spun around and slinked towards the door, that Sam first heard the commotion outside. He startled and ducked even farther under the bed, identifying the angry snarling and pounding as orcs trying to knock the door down.
Frodo slipped catlike across the room, like a thin, slinking shadow, to hide in the darkness next to the door. Not a second later, the door burst open with a deafening bang, and nearly burst off its hinges as it swung backwards, effectively concealing Frodo from sight.
Orcs poured into the room like water, scurrying about in a mad frenzy like dark crabs, snarling and spitting like dogs hot on a trail. Sam curled up as small as possible, and tried to melt into the stone floor beneath him, as the orcs condensed into a mob in the center of the room, peering about like predatory birds.
Silent as a wisp of smoke and almost as translucent, Frodo gently eased the door almost closed, prowling out of his shadow with his dagger raised. Sam could just make out his eyes, gleaming like coals through his black bangs, lit with anger and not a little fear.
Sam realized almost on a subconscious level that that was how orcs lived, sneaky and snarling but always afraid. Just one in a thousand wretched others, no doubt doomed to die spitting blood on a sword, one way or another. No one would mourn the loss of just another damnable orc.
Frodo crouched ready to pounce only feet behind the nearest orc. His eyes flicked over his targets back, searching out the weakest spot, planning out where he would strike.
With a shrieking snarl the diminutive orc leapt forward, plunging his dagger neatly through a gap in the chain mail stretched across his opponent's shoulder blades. The orc seized up and roared, but Frodo tossed him aside and off his blade, and stood squarely glaring at the watching pack of orcs, panting heavily. He didn't once look down at the dying creature bleeding on the ground.
The tense mob hesitated, waiting for someone to make the first move. Finally, the big orc Sam recognized as the one who had tried to strangle Frodo earlier, stepped forward from the center of the group, striding up to the smaller orc threateningly, a horrible leer twisting his face.
"So, rat, tryin' ta hide somemat from the rest of us, are ya?" he growled, casually pulling a sword from his belt that made Frodo's knife look like a toothpick. "Willin' to kill us to keep it a secret, aye?" he thrust the sword to Frodo's throat. Frodo kept his ground and parried the blow, but didn't have the strength nor the weapon to push the attacking sword away, only to stop the weapon from slicing his neck.
The big orc lowered his voice to an intimidating hiss. "You know that's not the way things work 'round here, maggot. Little runts like you should know betta than ta mess wit the rest of us."
Frodo moaned softly as the pressure pushing the sword towards his throat increased, and his hands began to shake as his strength gave out.
"Time to teach you a little lesson, rat," the orc snarled in his ear.
Frodo reared back and kicked the orc in the gut, ducking around the sword at his throat and swinging his dagger back behind his head in preparation for a deadly stab.
The stab never came. One of the other orcs had sneaked around behind him as the big one talked, and grabbed his wrist as he flung his arm back. In less than a second, Frodo's arm was twisted brutally behind his back, and his dagger crushed from his hand. Frodo squeaked in pain as he was slammed into the wall behind him, his feet dangling a few inches above the ground.
The orcs sneered and crept closer, watching happily as Frodo squirmed against the unrelenting hand at his throat that held him off the floor. His struggles became weaker and weaker as he gasped for air around the grip on his neck.
Sam moved to sneak out from his hiding place, but realized what a futile action this would be and froze. Yet deep back in his heart, Sam knew that if things had been right, he would have rushed out to defend his old Frodo without a thought. But, Sam realized with a jolt, this wasn't his Frodo anymore. That little orc was Maznak.
The big orc with the amber eyes leered down at the nearly limp form his crony had pinned against the wall with a new feeling of power, brought about by his ability to make another creature suffer. The big orc liked power. He wound up his arm and backhanded the pitiful thing dizzyingly across the face. Maznak moaned and blinked blearily, stunned by the cracking blow. The big orc grinned more widely, and followed his backhand with a resounding slap, watching with satisfaction as the puny orc's neck snapped back and forth under his power.
Maznak's eyes rolled and his already labored breathing turned to dragging gasps as his beating continued. The lack of air made him giddy with franticness, as his shaking fingers struggled to loosen the iron grip around his aching neck. His head was bashed to and fro endlessly, making his mind dumb with pain. Finally, as the breathless orc began to drift from consciousness, the brute holding him to the wall let him drop heavily to the ground, where he lay gasping and shivering with weakness. His nose and split lip splattered black orc blood down his front, and his eyes and face blossomed purple and blue.
But the orcs weren't done. They pressed in around their helpless prey like wolves on a wounded calf, beating and ripping and biting until Maznak gave up, and went completely still.
The world swam before Sam's eyes, and the shocked hobbit wondered if he had passed out.
All at once, a terrifying roar echoed through the room, and the pack of orcs all jumped and sprang back, scattering like dust on a wind.
The Uruk-hai that had ordered Frodo to bring Sam here stood framed in the doorway, the very picture of murderous rage. The little orcs cawed and scurried about desperately, only a lucky few escaping the Uruk's deadly anger through the door.
Only moments after the one-sided battle began, the Uruk flung the last underling orc out the window, and hurried across the room to where Maznak still lay sprawled on his side against the wall. Two huge black eyes were already blooming, and black blood slowly pussed from his raw cheeks. The little creature's chest heaved and his whole body shook like a leaf, weakened by his punishment. He groaned as the Uruk-hai clumsily tried to pull him to his feet, his eyes remaining weary and closed.
"Maznak, you okay, little thing?"
The Uruk had probably tortured and killed more prisoners than Sam had the stomach to consider, and yet here he was, unsure, awkwardly yet gently grasping a completely limp Maznak by the arms, holding his smaller partner and slave in an upright position.
It was obvious that this Uruk was usually the one inflicting the pain, not the one comforting the receiver of it. After half-balancing a lopsided Maznak on his feet, the Uruk let go, apparently hoping the thrashed orc could maintain his own footing. Maznak teetered and fell, and again the Uruk stood him up and watched him collapse, at a loss of what to do.
Sam scrambled out from under the bed.
He knew it was stupid, he knew that his Frodo was an orc now, and that this Uruk was still a Uruk even if it did prove to have a beating heart, and that he was a little hobbit in an unforgiving and relentless world of kill or be killed, where mercy could not be spared on the dying.
But Sam also knew that those orcs would have killed him, or worse, and that Maznak had protected him on a basis only as sturdy as his remembrance of him; as solid as water. Maznak had tried to take on all those bigger orcs, with nothing to support his actions besides that he and the other both had curly hair and big feet, and when he looked into Sam's eyes, he knew he hadn't always been an orc.
Sam hurried across the room and caught Maznak in his arms as he fell weakly from the Uruk's hands for a third time. Sam heard the Uruk-hai grunt in surprise, but didn't look up, being too busy gaping at the bleeding orc in his lap. Maznak had finally opened his eyes, and Frodo stared up at Sam with eyes drowning in confusion.
"Y-you're that one," he whispered thickly, his words heavy with fear. "The one that they. . ." Frodo trailed off shivering. Sam remembered, as he would a past nightmare, his own corpse, rotting and glaring and tormenting Frodo to the brink of insanity. And over.
"They killed you," Frodo murmured softly, leaning into Sam's collarbone. "Have they killed me too? Please tell me I'm dead," Frodo pleaded
Sam was at a complete loss for words. Desperately he looked up without thinking, and was mildly startled to see the Uruk-hai was still there. Sam watched the Uruk's gaze flick from his feet to Frodo's, comparing the two smaller creatures. Realization dawned in the Uruk's eyes, as he truly took in Frodo's height, curly hair and sapphire eyes for the first time. The fearsome Uruk-hai actually met Sam's gaze as he stared from one little hobbit to the other. Sam could almost see the shock and understanding chasing each other around inside the Uruk's head as it stared at the quivering orc in Sam's arms.
But before another member of the strangest threesome in the history of Middle Earth could say a word, an intimidating sound echoed through the hallways and chambers of Barad-dur, splashing into every dark corner like waves of sound, until the entire tower was flooded with it. The Uruk jerked and lurched to the window, glancing about apprehensively before turning back towards the orc and hobbit.
"War horns," he growled, striding over to Frodo and Sam and pulling the semi-conscious orc from his lost friend's lap. Frodo whimpered and fought to hold onto Sam, as the Uruk pushed the gardener away and yanked Frodo to his feet a fourth time, keeping the little orc upright with a hand under his arm. "They'll expect us ta fight."
The Uruk wavered only a moment, glancing from the overwhelmed hobbit he'd pushed to the ground to the twisted and beaten little orc fighting his hold, struggling to return to the friend already torn away from him once. But these feelings were beyond a fighting Uruk-hai, and with a frustrated grunt, he turned and strode away down the corridor, dragging Frodo away with him.
Sam was too overwhelmed to move, watching with wide eyes as Frodo twisted in the Uruk's grip to stare back at him as he was forced away, his arms dangling limply over the one bearing him along backwards. Sam saw Frodo's lips moving strangely, as though they were trying to form words.
He could just hear Frodo whispering, "S-, s-, si-, se-, s-, sa-" over and over. Sam watched with a bleeding heart as his Frodo struggled to remember his forgotten friend's name, as he was yanked forcefully away, off to a battle where he would surely lose his life.
Lose his life. . .
Sam screamed as he was whisked away on a wind, whipped out the window and rocketed over the land of Mordor, which was swarming with armies of orcs all making their way towards the Black Gate.
Sam shimmered in the air like a heat haze, invisible to any eye that happened to glance his way. Except one. But nothing was invisible to Him.
Sam desperately scanned the crowds of underling orcs being forced to form into the starting lines, none of them destined to live out the day. The orc and Uruk captains bellowed and roared, trying to organize the frightened troops into lines, the smaller, weaker orcs that could be spared in the front. And there, in the second line, an especially short orc was limping into position, the biting whip of a captain at his back. The diminutive orc pulled a crude helmet lower over his head, his right hand a mess of white knuckles on the hilt of an overly-large, rusty sword.
Even Sam could tell that Maznak was never going to leave this battlefield. Neither was Frodo, for that matter.
With another resounding blast from the orcish war horns, and Black Gate groaned and slowly opened, unleashing a gust of ash and heat to blow over the opposing army standing unflinching outside, the Gondorian and Rohan flags flapping in the wind.
Sam had floated down to shimmer next to Frodo. Even in a reality in which he was dead, Sam would be with Frodo when the end came.
Frodo's eyes suddenly contracted and went huge, a wild gasp escaping his throat and all blood draining from his face.
Sam followed Frodo's gaze and rasped silently as he beheld the army at the gate.
Before either hobbit could get their breath back, the two armies charged, and white swords clashed with black as the two sides collided.
Frodo's eyes were still huge and unfocused as he was jostled forward and forced to charge or be trampled. But the littlest orc's mind was clearly elsewhere, the raging battle around him only a fuzzy, unrealistic dream.
Aragorn roared as he plunged into a sea of swords, the white tree of Gondor splashed across his chest. Legolas's twin elvin blades flashed and swirled around his hands like harnessed lightning, reeking havoc on any orcs bold enough to get too close. Gimli was surrounded by a circle of dead and dying enemies, his ax spraying blood through the air as it whistled home. And there, only adding to the surreal feeling of an unreal dream, fought Gandalf, a blinding white gleam of murderous light.
Sam noticed, detached, that Merry and Pippin weren't there. Slowly, thoughts and ideas trickled through Sam's waterlogged mind; Frodo having been mutated into Maznak, Sam being murdered brutally before his friends very eyes, the Uruk saying two other halflings had been mysteriously let go. . .
Sam felt a sick surge of dread, fear, and a strange anger welling up inside him. Where was the RING!?!?
Both the fiery Eye woven into this could-be reality and the one branded into Sam's mind snapped and roared with renewed fire.
Frodo, miraculously, had survived the initial charge, and was now fighting for his life in the heart of a furious carnage, his eyes locked in a permanent state of terror. He ducked and swung, swerved and slashed, blocked and killed, his muscles working frantically without time enough to consult his brain. Adrenaline and instinct were in control now, and his movements became increasingly more desperate, more feral, more animalistic, as he continued to knock elbows with death.
Sam was petrified, frozen in blind fear, as he hung invisible in the war air. Arrows flew his way, causing him to scream in anticipation of the upcoming pain, only to strike between his eyes and rip through his head without even drawing blood. Axes and swords slashed through him, flecking torn flesh through the air, but didn't even leave a scratch. Horrifying monsters charged straight at him, roaring and frothing, but continued running, plunging the invisible hobbit momentarily in ice-cold water as they stepped right through him. Bleeding soldiers, shrieking in their dying agony, stumbled and fell through him, grizzly, mortal wounds glaring at Sam accusingly, crying tears of blood.
And Sam was helpless to stop any of it, completely powerless. Floating above the battlefield, amidst the dust and ash, he alone could see the thousands of lost souls floating upwards and fading away, ripped away from the body that anchored them to Middle Earth. He alone could hear their screams.
Frodo had struggled his way out of the center of the bloodshed, and now fought on the outskirts, on the far side of the battle, the side farthest from Mordor. Sam forced himself to move, biting his lip until he tasted blood as he floated literally 'through' the warfare. Yet even from the slight distance between him and Frodo, Sam could tell Frodo killed only as many elves and men as attacked him, fighting only in self-defense, his eyes traumatized oceans of fearful uncertainty. Maznak's entire world had been thrown off balance, teetering dangerously between who the little orc was now and would forever be, and who Frodo had been, and wanted more than anything to be again.
Frodo shrieked simultaneously with the Ringwraiths soaring overhead, stumbling backwards and clutching his shoulder. Sam had lost count of how many times he had awoken in the night to his friend's erratic breathing and tear-filled eyes, and sat up in concern to see the same shivering hand clutching the same scarred shoulder.
Finally, the tears Sam thought Mordor had dried came, and overflowed from his eyes as he truly realized how much he could lose, all the good and bad things that would only be worse if the treacherous Ring managed to tear the two ringbearers apart.
When Sam blinked down through his tears at Frodo, Frodo was crying too. A thousand and one emotions swan in those blue eyes, as a tidal wave of memories washed the smallest orc's soul up on the tide, the air thick with the spray of the sea.
Frodo spun around in a cloud of dust, turning his mutated yet tear-streaked face towards Barad-dur, and screamed at the top of his lungs, "SAM!!"
He broke off with a pain-filled shriek, even the name of his beloved friend tainted by the blood that sprayed from his mouth as he called out Sam's name. In a burst of blinding black Frodo was stabbed right through, the tip of Narsil protruding from his chest.
Frodo groaned and spluttered horribly, turning around to face his attacker even as he collapsed to his knees.
Aragorn, son of Arathorn, gaped open-mouthed into the fading blue of the tiny orc's fluttering eyes, rasping despairingly, "Frodo?"
Frodo stared, shocked, heartbroken yet without accusation, into Aragorn's eyes, panting weakly for breath as his life dripped to the parched ground. His eyes fluttered half closed and with one last gasp he fell over backwards, Narsil jerked harshly between his shoulders.
Before a sobbing Aragorn could reach his side, Frodo was gone. The last thing he ever saw was the smoky red sky of the land that had taken everything from him.
TBC
Bwa ha ha! Fear me! Okay, we need a nice fluffy fate soon, I'm starting to scare myself.
REVIEWERS I LOVE YOU! I can't put into words how much you guys mean to me so I'm not even gonna try! Thank you SO MUCH!
For Chapter Two! ~ Linriel- Slashless Sam! We likes friend!sam. Ick, nasty schoolsess. We hates it too. *ahem* Yes... more shroomies for you! Wide selection this time, we've got chocolate covered, vanilla, and those yummy multicolored sprinkles! Take your pick. 0o0o0o0oh, that was a great idea for the end! *pokes plot bunnies, so they start running on their hamster wheels that power my muses' thinking caps* Must incorporate that some how...
Lady-Willowish- Welcome on board mate! Rum? Or maybe a poisonous shroomie? (Woo, way too much Pirates of the Caribbean...) Glad you like it! *sniff* Yea, I never liked how clueless Sam was about Frodo wanting to come back, so screw that, I wrote this! :D
Danny Barefoot- *jams pot over head and grabs Sam's frying pan* Heh heh, um, I'm using movie verse because I kinda sorta *glances around nervously* haven'treadthebooks *is attacked by army of orcs* Meep! I'm sorry! I will! Someday! Promise! Thank you loads for the help though... must stop mentioning the Valar...
QT-Pie- *blushes happily* Pretty pretty pretty review! *glances around nervously and tosses review under bed with other shiny gold mysteriously ring-shaped reviews* Thank you SOO much! And about why Sam's having these dreams, *giggles evilly* we'll be finding out soon enough, I've been thinking of writing a little companion piece from Frodo's POV with some more hints in it... *moo ha ha*
ShireElf- LOVE YOU GIRL! Got your second email thingy. Happy it was no trouble! *hugs Frodo!Muse too* I love muses! *Frodo begins to suffocate* o0o0o0oh, look at what an adorable shade of blue he's turning!
Evil Vampire Lady- Wow, I'm so happy you're like it so much! Have to get better with updating...
Irish Flying Fish- Glad you like! And yep, Frodo's going to have some very interesting AUs to listen to!
Sami1010220- *tear* Thank you!
Bubble Girl- SO GLAD TO SEE I'M NOT THE ONLY SKITZO ON THE SITE! *high fives* go schizophrenia! Our alternate-egos should get together some time! ^_^
RabidSamFan- hee hee, yea, poor Sam. He could use a break *hands Sam!Muse a kitkat bar*
Arwen Baggins- Happy you liked it! And glad someone was sharp enough to pick up on Frodo having dreams too. *shrooms for you!* I might do a little companion ficcy thing, from Frodo's POV, not sure yet though. After writing all this gloom and doom I just wanna read cute little Merry and Pip fics! ^_~
Aaand... Chapter 3! ~ Linriel- have I mentioned I was THRILLED to see people were following my story! *jig of glee* and yet more shroomies! *munches happily on cookies, throwing the odd chocolate chip to Frodo!Muse* Thank you SO MUCH for about the billionth time. *giggles happily* I STUNNED people! *more scary victory jig*
Arwen Baggins- *squeals* Another follower person! [insert victory jigging with hobbit muses] Real close, but not quite what Frodo was watching. He was remembering the orcs killing Sam. Equally traumatizing for the poor guy, though, huh? Thank you soo much, hope you liked this chapter!
RabidSamFan- *BRANDYWINE OF SHROOMS!* Shh! Don't give it away! Wow, you smart cookie, you guessed it! Treacherous little ring, isn't it? ^_~
Laurajslr- *bounces with excitement* Pretty reviewsie! :D Thank you soo much for everything, I'm happy you like it! Hope you enjoyed this chapter too. Help yourself to shrooms! *offers platter*
ShireElf- *shrugs and throws more shrooms* Why not? THANK YOU SOO MUCH FOR THE BA-JILLIONTH TIME, might as well not stop sounding like a broken record now! :o)
Evil Vampire Lady- No, not Merry or Pip poor Frodo had to watch die! That's all explained up nice in this chap though, so I won't go into a rant. *sniff* Yea, poor Sammy, he didn't ask to go on this quest, DID HE GANDALF!?! *glares murderously* AHEM! Yea. THANK YOU FOR THE REVIEW! ^-^ hope you liked this chapter too! *shroom!*
Sami1010200- Thanx! :oD
A E Amdusias Blue- *hands more ducktape* I'M SORRY! Maybe I'll start writing fluff after this. THANK YOU FOR REVIEW THOUGH! *shroomie... geez I'm starting to run out*
Skye12- *grits teeth* my...comp...is...so...EVIL! OMG! IT WON'T LET ME READ YOUR STORY! THE TORTURE! THE PAIN! THE AGONY! *writhes on the ground, while Frodo watches with a look of revenge* It's been killing me! Just know I'm sure it's positively magnificent and I must get to the library soon and read your updates before I completely crack! If I haven't already *shifty eyes* Hm, perhaps we are crazy *Frodo and Sam look shocked at the very idea* heh, we won't go into a rant like that again, I promise! Next review will be nice and sane, you'll see! (I hope) *does a little jig* I'm a nutbag, a nutbag, a nutbag! Hee hee I like that expression! THANK YOU SOO MUCH FOR THE REVIEWSIE! You had be bouncing off the walls with excitement when you reviewed, cause like, I love your story and I was really excited *trails off staring down the mouths of twenty so pistols* I think they've come to tranquilize me again... anywayz, truckload of shrooms for you! ^_^
Chaos- Glad you like it! Hope you liked this chappie too. Thank you soo much!
Danny Barefoot- Thank you soo much! Sorry I wasn't creative enough to think of something entirely unique for hobbits to turn in to, hope little orcs were okay... Must go read Mary Borsillio's fic! I'm excited! Don't worry, Evil!Frodo is coming soon enough! Thanks again for all your help!
QT-Pie- *is stroking review when Frodo stomps in and steals it from her* GIVE IT BACKSESS! *notices people watching* oh, um, heh heh, hi! I can't even put into words how much I love your reviews, so I'm not even gonna try and am just gonna say THANK YOU SOO MUCH I LOVE YOU! *shrooms shrooms shrooms!*
*rubs wrists and weighs empty shroom bag in hands* I don't think I've ever responded to so many reviews in my LIFE! THANK YOU SOO MUCH YOU GUYS! *tear*
THANK YOU SHIRE!ELF!! glad you don't get tired of it! ^_~ *chocolate covered shrooms!* My beta, you know, so's I won't go making mortifying mistakes like in chapter one! (Got Frodo's shoulders mixed up, it's his LEFT! *taps noes* Don't be hasty) So people, go read her stuff, 'cause they're the kind of stories where you really have to press yourself to get over your shock at how great the story was and move on to her next one!
Anyways!
Chapter 4 ~ Orcish
Horrible images flashed before Sam's eyes.
He saw himself being dragged in, struggling and kicking and cursing, surrounded by a victorious throng of orcs through the door of the tower. He saw Frodo in the background, already covered in welts and being held back by a huge Uruk-hai as he fought desperately to run to Sam, frantically calling his gardener's name.
"Sam! Sam!! NO! SAM!!"
Sam watched his could-be self whirl around and gape at Frodo in shock.
All at once, one of the orcs yanking Sam along got tired with his resistance, and caught him a dizzying blow to his temple. Sam groaned and slumped, but didn't pass out. Instead, he continued blinking bemused eyes at Frodo. Frodo screamed as he watched Sam fall.
"NOO!!" And with a wild, fear and rage driven strength, Frodo somehow managed to yank his arm free of the Uruk's iron grip. In a blind burst of adrenaline, the little hobbit lunged, catching the Urak-hai's hand in his teeth. With a crunch of bone scraping bone, Frodo ripped the Uruk's knuckles clean out of its blackened skin.
The Uruk-hai roared, and Frodo was thrown into the ground, black blood dripping from his mouth. He sprang right back up, and snatched the confused and enraged creature's sword out of its scabbard, and holding it in both hands, swung it clumsily into the Uruk's knee. There was a horrible crack, and the Uruk fell.
Sam watched all this in complete disbelief, his mouth hanging open. He was terrified by the animal void of Frodo's eyes, like a wounded and cornered wolf's.
The May-be Sam was being dragged along by his hair down the corridor, nearing a corner at the end of it. None of the orcs seemed to notice the tiny, beaten figure panting for breath behind them over a felled Uruk-hai, clutching a bloodied orc sword much to big for him in white, shaking hands, swaying violently in front of the still open gate to Barad-dur.
Frodo hesitated for only a second, casting one longing gaze at the unbarred gate leading out of this hell, before hefting up his huge orc blade and running after Sam.
"NO!" the Sam watching all this screamed desperately, lurching forward to stop the Could-Be from running straight to his doom. But Frodo's madly gleaming eyes didn't even waver, and Sam realized, he was helpless. He was completely invisible, and powerless to stop the haunting reality pulsing around him.
Sam swayed and his vision blurred, even as Frodo reached the throng of orcs and swung recklessly at the nearest monsters bearing the semi-conscious Sam. A shower of black orc blood spurted through the air, but was soon joined by a spray of red and a cracking scream.
Frodo teetered and fell, a horrible, jagged lash ripped across his chest. And then the orcs pounced.
Sam couldn't help it any more. His eyes rolled back and he fainted, Frodo's screams still ringing in his ears.
"Whadda ya reckon it is?"
"How the fug should I know? Easy meat is all I'm thinkin'."
"Na, don't go killing it yet, ya better wait 'till the Cap'm gets back."
Sam groaned softly, thousands of blinding stars blinking around inside his head. His mind pulsed with the beat of their dancing, faster, faster, faster. . . and the voices only added to the rhythmic pounding in his ears. Valar, did Sam have a headache.
"Might be one 'na dem halfling rats," a low, rough voice was barking. Sam felt like he should be afraid, the star's dance was trying to tell him something, but he was too tired to figure out what. "The Cap'd be right pleased if it was, might even give us second rations."
"Ya know the boss'd never do that." The first voice Sam had heard floating through the fog of his mind spoke again. "He 'ardly keeps us alive as it is. 'E'd never cough up extra food. Flog us more he'd do." Yes, this was the voice that had told the other not to kill him, was it not? This voice was slightly higher than the other one was, not by much, but perceptibly so. It sounded more worn and hoarse as opposed to the second, throatier voice.
And it sounded scared.
Sam blinked slowly, two grayish blobs were bobbing over him. The stars gave one last warning blink as they drifted slowly into the back of his mind, the song diminishing along with them.
The burning eye faded as well. Sam's head cracked with pain. For some reason he knew he should be frightened or relieved, but he couldn't find the energy for either.
The lower voice was growling again. "Flog /us/? Who said anything about /us/? If anyone's gonna be handin' this thing ova to Shagrat, it's gonna be you."
There was a short pause. The blob's were beginning to focus.
"Well, what if he'd be likin' it? Looks like it'd be me getting the second ale, iffin it was /me/ that brought it to 'em."
"If that'd be what happened, then you'd be getten flogged by me. Take yer pick, half-swallow."
Sam's head took one last stinging pang, and everything slid back into focus.
Well, for a moment. Before Sam's mind could take in a thing, a painful talon encased his entire lower arm in an iron grip, and he was hauled dizzyingly to his feet.
"Lookit, the mite's awake."
Sam's eyes went huge. A black and fearsome Uruk-hai was leering down at him, appraising him like some sheep or cow ready for the butcher, it's rotten breath nearly making Sam gag.
Next to it stood a little orc, bristling and spider-like, running its tongue over sharp, white little teeth as it peered at him, too. Its skin was a pale gray, with an angry white scar slashed across the center of its face, and many other reddish and black relics of its mutation. Its gaunt face was framed by two long, grotesquely pointed orc ears, which dangled with rusty metal and bleached bone orcish jewelry.
It glared at Sam sharply, the icy, electric blue of its eyes so cold it burned. Behind it, Destiny's Muse floated past on an adjacent corridor, her identical, animalistic eyes never straying from their fixed point straight ahead.
Sam's blood ran so cold it must have frozen, because his heart certainly didn't beat for several seconds.
Frodo stared into Sam's eyes, seeing in so deep it was like gazing through a window onto a life lost and forgotten. Sam stared back, and watched his friend's eyes soften as they beheld more pleasant images, reflections of memories he had forgotten, little tokens that were all Frodo had left of the Shire. The little orc broke eye contact first, blinking and casting his gaze to the floor. He growled low in his throat, not out of anger or fear, but confusion. He didn't know what else to do.
Sam wondered why tears wouldn't come, as his eyes prickled and burned. But his were not the only ones. A third eye burned along with his own.
The Uruk-hai was speaking. "Here, you, take the mite back ta my quarters, an don't let any of da others see we have it. And don't ya even think about havin' a midnight snack."
"You take it back, I'm not missin' my only meal again. We got watch tonight too, and there's no way I'm standin' all night out there on an empty stomach."
The Uruk growled angrily, and Sam could just see Frodo flinch beneath his baggy orc rags. "You'll take it back an' keep it hidden 'till I see if it's worth anythin'. An' if you try anything gutsy, I'll tell Number One it was you who let them other halfling rats go. Ya hear?"
Sam watched the small amount of blood in Frodo's face drain away, and judging by how he quaked, the Uruk had come dangerously close to the truth.
Sam suddenly found himself wondering what happened to Merry and Pippin.
Frodo hissed angrily and grabbed the offered rope from the Uruk-hai's hand, tying it tightly around Sam's neck before the shocked hobbit could even cry at the irony.
The Uruk snorted his approval and stomped away. Frodo swore at his back.
"Come on, you," he snapped, yanking on Sam's lead. Sam stumbled and followed obediently down the filthy stone corridor, unable to think of anything else to do. Frodo didn't look at him, keeping his angry eyes busy glaring at the few other underling orcs they passed, barring his teeth occasionally as to ward off a possible attack. Sam noticed he kept his scarred hand gripped on the handle of a small sheathed blade in his belt. Sam didn't blame him. He was by far the shortest orc around.
One particularly large orc moved to snatch Frodo by the neck, but the twisted hobbit ducked quickly and pulled out his dagger, breathing hard. The orc leered down at him, his amber eyes flickering from Sam back to Frodo.
"Whatcha got there, maggot-" Frodo didn't give him a chance to finish, scurrying away before things got ugly, Sam scampering along in his wake.
Finally, Frodo and Sam reached a rotting wooden door at the end of the hallway. Frodo kicked it open and, still pulling Sam along by the neck, jerked his companion inside. Sam squeaked at the pain in his neck, and looked up at Frodo with a bruised soul. The two halflings had walked together so many times before, but now everything was so wrong.
Frodo looked blankly back at Sam, and again looked away, something like fear flickering behind his scars. There was a pause, as Frodo tied Sam's lead to a post on a crude bed collapsing in a corner, and Sam shivered with indecision.
Frodo suddenly yelped like a dog and whirled around, staring at Sam with eyes so frantic and wild he looked the maddest he had yet.
"What are you!?!" he demanded shrilly, messaging his left shoulder as though it pained him. A wraith screeched outside. "What are you? SPEAK!"
Sam backed up, startled by Frodo's sudden outburst, but stuttered. "I-I'm a, a hobbit, I'm. . ." but Sam stopped. He couldn't take the pain of Frodo not remembering. Not again.
Frodo was staring at him intently, fixing his eyes with such a sharp blue glow it made Sam feel uncomfortable to blink. He was still breathing hard, but seemed to have calmed down a little. He dropped his hand from his shoulder.
"A hobbit," he whispered, trying out the word for himself.
Sam nodded tiredly, a new sadness gnawing at his heart. "A hobbit."
Frodo's eyes fixed on something so far away, a life and a death separated the memory from the soul that longed for it so. Such a sorrow floated in the little orc's eyes, an onlooker would suddenly not think the seas so big, nor the stars so bright.
Sam died a little death as he watched Frodo grieve for what he couldn't even remember. For Sam, the Light of Earendil would never be quite so bright again.
Frodo looked up slowly, as though the weight of the world was dangling around his neck. Like it once had. "My name is Maznak," he mumbled softly, by way of a small comfort.
That did it for Sam. Galadrial's starglass flickered and died, and Sam was angry. He'd loved the Lady's light.
"NO!" he hollered furiously, screaming the one word that all of his recent emotions could be crammed under. Frodo jumped and bristled, his hand flying to his dagger. "NO!" he yelled again, "No! That's not your name! Your name is Frodo! Frodo Baggins! Ya hear me?" Sam yanked at the cord around his neck so hard, he pulled the bedpost clear off the rotting frame. Sam watched the splinters snap and fall to the floor, broken bits of what had once held the bed upright.
Sam swayed and sunk to the floor, staring at the broken shards of wood and clasping at the rope around his neck. "Frodo," he whispered to himself, so he wouldn't forget. "Frodo Baggins of the Shire."
Sam didn't know how long he'd stared into eternity, but eventually he felt a movement next to him, and looked up to see a very white and wide-eyed Frodo grabbing him by the collar and cramming him under the collapsed bed.
"Stay down," Frodo hissed, pushing Sam's curly head out of sight. Frodo paused for a half second, examining Sam's hobbit locks, raising a hand to brush them back from Sam's forehead. The little orc narrowed his eyes and spun around hurriedly. But Sam saw him raise a quivering hand to his own dark curls, where they flopped over his eyes.
It was as Frodo spun around and slinked towards the door, that Sam first heard the commotion outside. He startled and ducked even farther under the bed, identifying the angry snarling and pounding as orcs trying to knock the door down.
Frodo slipped catlike across the room, like a thin, slinking shadow, to hide in the darkness next to the door. Not a second later, the door burst open with a deafening bang, and nearly burst off its hinges as it swung backwards, effectively concealing Frodo from sight.
Orcs poured into the room like water, scurrying about in a mad frenzy like dark crabs, snarling and spitting like dogs hot on a trail. Sam curled up as small as possible, and tried to melt into the stone floor beneath him, as the orcs condensed into a mob in the center of the room, peering about like predatory birds.
Silent as a wisp of smoke and almost as translucent, Frodo gently eased the door almost closed, prowling out of his shadow with his dagger raised. Sam could just make out his eyes, gleaming like coals through his black bangs, lit with anger and not a little fear.
Sam realized almost on a subconscious level that that was how orcs lived, sneaky and snarling but always afraid. Just one in a thousand wretched others, no doubt doomed to die spitting blood on a sword, one way or another. No one would mourn the loss of just another damnable orc.
Frodo crouched ready to pounce only feet behind the nearest orc. His eyes flicked over his targets back, searching out the weakest spot, planning out where he would strike.
With a shrieking snarl the diminutive orc leapt forward, plunging his dagger neatly through a gap in the chain mail stretched across his opponent's shoulder blades. The orc seized up and roared, but Frodo tossed him aside and off his blade, and stood squarely glaring at the watching pack of orcs, panting heavily. He didn't once look down at the dying creature bleeding on the ground.
The tense mob hesitated, waiting for someone to make the first move. Finally, the big orc Sam recognized as the one who had tried to strangle Frodo earlier, stepped forward from the center of the group, striding up to the smaller orc threateningly, a horrible leer twisting his face.
"So, rat, tryin' ta hide somemat from the rest of us, are ya?" he growled, casually pulling a sword from his belt that made Frodo's knife look like a toothpick. "Willin' to kill us to keep it a secret, aye?" he thrust the sword to Frodo's throat. Frodo kept his ground and parried the blow, but didn't have the strength nor the weapon to push the attacking sword away, only to stop the weapon from slicing his neck.
The big orc lowered his voice to an intimidating hiss. "You know that's not the way things work 'round here, maggot. Little runts like you should know betta than ta mess wit the rest of us."
Frodo moaned softly as the pressure pushing the sword towards his throat increased, and his hands began to shake as his strength gave out.
"Time to teach you a little lesson, rat," the orc snarled in his ear.
Frodo reared back and kicked the orc in the gut, ducking around the sword at his throat and swinging his dagger back behind his head in preparation for a deadly stab.
The stab never came. One of the other orcs had sneaked around behind him as the big one talked, and grabbed his wrist as he flung his arm back. In less than a second, Frodo's arm was twisted brutally behind his back, and his dagger crushed from his hand. Frodo squeaked in pain as he was slammed into the wall behind him, his feet dangling a few inches above the ground.
The orcs sneered and crept closer, watching happily as Frodo squirmed against the unrelenting hand at his throat that held him off the floor. His struggles became weaker and weaker as he gasped for air around the grip on his neck.
Sam moved to sneak out from his hiding place, but realized what a futile action this would be and froze. Yet deep back in his heart, Sam knew that if things had been right, he would have rushed out to defend his old Frodo without a thought. But, Sam realized with a jolt, this wasn't his Frodo anymore. That little orc was Maznak.
The big orc with the amber eyes leered down at the nearly limp form his crony had pinned against the wall with a new feeling of power, brought about by his ability to make another creature suffer. The big orc liked power. He wound up his arm and backhanded the pitiful thing dizzyingly across the face. Maznak moaned and blinked blearily, stunned by the cracking blow. The big orc grinned more widely, and followed his backhand with a resounding slap, watching with satisfaction as the puny orc's neck snapped back and forth under his power.
Maznak's eyes rolled and his already labored breathing turned to dragging gasps as his beating continued. The lack of air made him giddy with franticness, as his shaking fingers struggled to loosen the iron grip around his aching neck. His head was bashed to and fro endlessly, making his mind dumb with pain. Finally, as the breathless orc began to drift from consciousness, the brute holding him to the wall let him drop heavily to the ground, where he lay gasping and shivering with weakness. His nose and split lip splattered black orc blood down his front, and his eyes and face blossomed purple and blue.
But the orcs weren't done. They pressed in around their helpless prey like wolves on a wounded calf, beating and ripping and biting until Maznak gave up, and went completely still.
The world swam before Sam's eyes, and the shocked hobbit wondered if he had passed out.
All at once, a terrifying roar echoed through the room, and the pack of orcs all jumped and sprang back, scattering like dust on a wind.
The Uruk-hai that had ordered Frodo to bring Sam here stood framed in the doorway, the very picture of murderous rage. The little orcs cawed and scurried about desperately, only a lucky few escaping the Uruk's deadly anger through the door.
Only moments after the one-sided battle began, the Uruk flung the last underling orc out the window, and hurried across the room to where Maznak still lay sprawled on his side against the wall. Two huge black eyes were already blooming, and black blood slowly pussed from his raw cheeks. The little creature's chest heaved and his whole body shook like a leaf, weakened by his punishment. He groaned as the Uruk-hai clumsily tried to pull him to his feet, his eyes remaining weary and closed.
"Maznak, you okay, little thing?"
The Uruk had probably tortured and killed more prisoners than Sam had the stomach to consider, and yet here he was, unsure, awkwardly yet gently grasping a completely limp Maznak by the arms, holding his smaller partner and slave in an upright position.
It was obvious that this Uruk was usually the one inflicting the pain, not the one comforting the receiver of it. After half-balancing a lopsided Maznak on his feet, the Uruk let go, apparently hoping the thrashed orc could maintain his own footing. Maznak teetered and fell, and again the Uruk stood him up and watched him collapse, at a loss of what to do.
Sam scrambled out from under the bed.
He knew it was stupid, he knew that his Frodo was an orc now, and that this Uruk was still a Uruk even if it did prove to have a beating heart, and that he was a little hobbit in an unforgiving and relentless world of kill or be killed, where mercy could not be spared on the dying.
But Sam also knew that those orcs would have killed him, or worse, and that Maznak had protected him on a basis only as sturdy as his remembrance of him; as solid as water. Maznak had tried to take on all those bigger orcs, with nothing to support his actions besides that he and the other both had curly hair and big feet, and when he looked into Sam's eyes, he knew he hadn't always been an orc.
Sam hurried across the room and caught Maznak in his arms as he fell weakly from the Uruk's hands for a third time. Sam heard the Uruk-hai grunt in surprise, but didn't look up, being too busy gaping at the bleeding orc in his lap. Maznak had finally opened his eyes, and Frodo stared up at Sam with eyes drowning in confusion.
"Y-you're that one," he whispered thickly, his words heavy with fear. "The one that they. . ." Frodo trailed off shivering. Sam remembered, as he would a past nightmare, his own corpse, rotting and glaring and tormenting Frodo to the brink of insanity. And over.
"They killed you," Frodo murmured softly, leaning into Sam's collarbone. "Have they killed me too? Please tell me I'm dead," Frodo pleaded
Sam was at a complete loss for words. Desperately he looked up without thinking, and was mildly startled to see the Uruk-hai was still there. Sam watched the Uruk's gaze flick from his feet to Frodo's, comparing the two smaller creatures. Realization dawned in the Uruk's eyes, as he truly took in Frodo's height, curly hair and sapphire eyes for the first time. The fearsome Uruk-hai actually met Sam's gaze as he stared from one little hobbit to the other. Sam could almost see the shock and understanding chasing each other around inside the Uruk's head as it stared at the quivering orc in Sam's arms.
But before another member of the strangest threesome in the history of Middle Earth could say a word, an intimidating sound echoed through the hallways and chambers of Barad-dur, splashing into every dark corner like waves of sound, until the entire tower was flooded with it. The Uruk jerked and lurched to the window, glancing about apprehensively before turning back towards the orc and hobbit.
"War horns," he growled, striding over to Frodo and Sam and pulling the semi-conscious orc from his lost friend's lap. Frodo whimpered and fought to hold onto Sam, as the Uruk pushed the gardener away and yanked Frodo to his feet a fourth time, keeping the little orc upright with a hand under his arm. "They'll expect us ta fight."
The Uruk wavered only a moment, glancing from the overwhelmed hobbit he'd pushed to the ground to the twisted and beaten little orc fighting his hold, struggling to return to the friend already torn away from him once. But these feelings were beyond a fighting Uruk-hai, and with a frustrated grunt, he turned and strode away down the corridor, dragging Frodo away with him.
Sam was too overwhelmed to move, watching with wide eyes as Frodo twisted in the Uruk's grip to stare back at him as he was forced away, his arms dangling limply over the one bearing him along backwards. Sam saw Frodo's lips moving strangely, as though they were trying to form words.
He could just hear Frodo whispering, "S-, s-, si-, se-, s-, sa-" over and over. Sam watched with a bleeding heart as his Frodo struggled to remember his forgotten friend's name, as he was yanked forcefully away, off to a battle where he would surely lose his life.
Lose his life. . .
Sam screamed as he was whisked away on a wind, whipped out the window and rocketed over the land of Mordor, which was swarming with armies of orcs all making their way towards the Black Gate.
Sam shimmered in the air like a heat haze, invisible to any eye that happened to glance his way. Except one. But nothing was invisible to Him.
Sam desperately scanned the crowds of underling orcs being forced to form into the starting lines, none of them destined to live out the day. The orc and Uruk captains bellowed and roared, trying to organize the frightened troops into lines, the smaller, weaker orcs that could be spared in the front. And there, in the second line, an especially short orc was limping into position, the biting whip of a captain at his back. The diminutive orc pulled a crude helmet lower over his head, his right hand a mess of white knuckles on the hilt of an overly-large, rusty sword.
Even Sam could tell that Maznak was never going to leave this battlefield. Neither was Frodo, for that matter.
With another resounding blast from the orcish war horns, and Black Gate groaned and slowly opened, unleashing a gust of ash and heat to blow over the opposing army standing unflinching outside, the Gondorian and Rohan flags flapping in the wind.
Sam had floated down to shimmer next to Frodo. Even in a reality in which he was dead, Sam would be with Frodo when the end came.
Frodo's eyes suddenly contracted and went huge, a wild gasp escaping his throat and all blood draining from his face.
Sam followed Frodo's gaze and rasped silently as he beheld the army at the gate.
Before either hobbit could get their breath back, the two armies charged, and white swords clashed with black as the two sides collided.
Frodo's eyes were still huge and unfocused as he was jostled forward and forced to charge or be trampled. But the littlest orc's mind was clearly elsewhere, the raging battle around him only a fuzzy, unrealistic dream.
Aragorn roared as he plunged into a sea of swords, the white tree of Gondor splashed across his chest. Legolas's twin elvin blades flashed and swirled around his hands like harnessed lightning, reeking havoc on any orcs bold enough to get too close. Gimli was surrounded by a circle of dead and dying enemies, his ax spraying blood through the air as it whistled home. And there, only adding to the surreal feeling of an unreal dream, fought Gandalf, a blinding white gleam of murderous light.
Sam noticed, detached, that Merry and Pippin weren't there. Slowly, thoughts and ideas trickled through Sam's waterlogged mind; Frodo having been mutated into Maznak, Sam being murdered brutally before his friends very eyes, the Uruk saying two other halflings had been mysteriously let go. . .
Sam felt a sick surge of dread, fear, and a strange anger welling up inside him. Where was the RING!?!?
Both the fiery Eye woven into this could-be reality and the one branded into Sam's mind snapped and roared with renewed fire.
Frodo, miraculously, had survived the initial charge, and was now fighting for his life in the heart of a furious carnage, his eyes locked in a permanent state of terror. He ducked and swung, swerved and slashed, blocked and killed, his muscles working frantically without time enough to consult his brain. Adrenaline and instinct were in control now, and his movements became increasingly more desperate, more feral, more animalistic, as he continued to knock elbows with death.
Sam was petrified, frozen in blind fear, as he hung invisible in the war air. Arrows flew his way, causing him to scream in anticipation of the upcoming pain, only to strike between his eyes and rip through his head without even drawing blood. Axes and swords slashed through him, flecking torn flesh through the air, but didn't even leave a scratch. Horrifying monsters charged straight at him, roaring and frothing, but continued running, plunging the invisible hobbit momentarily in ice-cold water as they stepped right through him. Bleeding soldiers, shrieking in their dying agony, stumbled and fell through him, grizzly, mortal wounds glaring at Sam accusingly, crying tears of blood.
And Sam was helpless to stop any of it, completely powerless. Floating above the battlefield, amidst the dust and ash, he alone could see the thousands of lost souls floating upwards and fading away, ripped away from the body that anchored them to Middle Earth. He alone could hear their screams.
Frodo had struggled his way out of the center of the bloodshed, and now fought on the outskirts, on the far side of the battle, the side farthest from Mordor. Sam forced himself to move, biting his lip until he tasted blood as he floated literally 'through' the warfare. Yet even from the slight distance between him and Frodo, Sam could tell Frodo killed only as many elves and men as attacked him, fighting only in self-defense, his eyes traumatized oceans of fearful uncertainty. Maznak's entire world had been thrown off balance, teetering dangerously between who the little orc was now and would forever be, and who Frodo had been, and wanted more than anything to be again.
Frodo shrieked simultaneously with the Ringwraiths soaring overhead, stumbling backwards and clutching his shoulder. Sam had lost count of how many times he had awoken in the night to his friend's erratic breathing and tear-filled eyes, and sat up in concern to see the same shivering hand clutching the same scarred shoulder.
Finally, the tears Sam thought Mordor had dried came, and overflowed from his eyes as he truly realized how much he could lose, all the good and bad things that would only be worse if the treacherous Ring managed to tear the two ringbearers apart.
When Sam blinked down through his tears at Frodo, Frodo was crying too. A thousand and one emotions swan in those blue eyes, as a tidal wave of memories washed the smallest orc's soul up on the tide, the air thick with the spray of the sea.
Frodo spun around in a cloud of dust, turning his mutated yet tear-streaked face towards Barad-dur, and screamed at the top of his lungs, "SAM!!"
He broke off with a pain-filled shriek, even the name of his beloved friend tainted by the blood that sprayed from his mouth as he called out Sam's name. In a burst of blinding black Frodo was stabbed right through, the tip of Narsil protruding from his chest.
Frodo groaned and spluttered horribly, turning around to face his attacker even as he collapsed to his knees.
Aragorn, son of Arathorn, gaped open-mouthed into the fading blue of the tiny orc's fluttering eyes, rasping despairingly, "Frodo?"
Frodo stared, shocked, heartbroken yet without accusation, into Aragorn's eyes, panting weakly for breath as his life dripped to the parched ground. His eyes fluttered half closed and with one last gasp he fell over backwards, Narsil jerked harshly between his shoulders.
Before a sobbing Aragorn could reach his side, Frodo was gone. The last thing he ever saw was the smoky red sky of the land that had taken everything from him.
TBC
Bwa ha ha! Fear me! Okay, we need a nice fluffy fate soon, I'm starting to scare myself.
REVIEWERS I LOVE YOU! I can't put into words how much you guys mean to me so I'm not even gonna try! Thank you SO MUCH!
For Chapter Two! ~ Linriel- Slashless Sam! We likes friend!sam. Ick, nasty schoolsess. We hates it too. *ahem* Yes... more shroomies for you! Wide selection this time, we've got chocolate covered, vanilla, and those yummy multicolored sprinkles! Take your pick. 0o0o0o0oh, that was a great idea for the end! *pokes plot bunnies, so they start running on their hamster wheels that power my muses' thinking caps* Must incorporate that some how...
Lady-Willowish- Welcome on board mate! Rum? Or maybe a poisonous shroomie? (Woo, way too much Pirates of the Caribbean...) Glad you like it! *sniff* Yea, I never liked how clueless Sam was about Frodo wanting to come back, so screw that, I wrote this! :D
Danny Barefoot- *jams pot over head and grabs Sam's frying pan* Heh heh, um, I'm using movie verse because I kinda sorta *glances around nervously* haven'treadthebooks *is attacked by army of orcs* Meep! I'm sorry! I will! Someday! Promise! Thank you loads for the help though... must stop mentioning the Valar...
QT-Pie- *blushes happily* Pretty pretty pretty review! *glances around nervously and tosses review under bed with other shiny gold mysteriously ring-shaped reviews* Thank you SOO much! And about why Sam's having these dreams, *giggles evilly* we'll be finding out soon enough, I've been thinking of writing a little companion piece from Frodo's POV with some more hints in it... *moo ha ha*
ShireElf- LOVE YOU GIRL! Got your second email thingy. Happy it was no trouble! *hugs Frodo!Muse too* I love muses! *Frodo begins to suffocate* o0o0o0oh, look at what an adorable shade of blue he's turning!
Evil Vampire Lady- Wow, I'm so happy you're like it so much! Have to get better with updating...
Irish Flying Fish- Glad you like! And yep, Frodo's going to have some very interesting AUs to listen to!
Sami1010220- *tear* Thank you!
Bubble Girl- SO GLAD TO SEE I'M NOT THE ONLY SKITZO ON THE SITE! *high fives* go schizophrenia! Our alternate-egos should get together some time! ^_^
RabidSamFan- hee hee, yea, poor Sam. He could use a break *hands Sam!Muse a kitkat bar*
Arwen Baggins- Happy you liked it! And glad someone was sharp enough to pick up on Frodo having dreams too. *shrooms for you!* I might do a little companion ficcy thing, from Frodo's POV, not sure yet though. After writing all this gloom and doom I just wanna read cute little Merry and Pip fics! ^_~
Aaand... Chapter 3! ~ Linriel- have I mentioned I was THRILLED to see people were following my story! *jig of glee* and yet more shroomies! *munches happily on cookies, throwing the odd chocolate chip to Frodo!Muse* Thank you SO MUCH for about the billionth time. *giggles happily* I STUNNED people! *more scary victory jig*
Arwen Baggins- *squeals* Another follower person! [insert victory jigging with hobbit muses] Real close, but not quite what Frodo was watching. He was remembering the orcs killing Sam. Equally traumatizing for the poor guy, though, huh? Thank you soo much, hope you liked this chapter!
RabidSamFan- *BRANDYWINE OF SHROOMS!* Shh! Don't give it away! Wow, you smart cookie, you guessed it! Treacherous little ring, isn't it? ^_~
Laurajslr- *bounces with excitement* Pretty reviewsie! :D Thank you soo much for everything, I'm happy you like it! Hope you enjoyed this chapter too. Help yourself to shrooms! *offers platter*
ShireElf- *shrugs and throws more shrooms* Why not? THANK YOU SOO MUCH FOR THE BA-JILLIONTH TIME, might as well not stop sounding like a broken record now! :o)
Evil Vampire Lady- No, not Merry or Pip poor Frodo had to watch die! That's all explained up nice in this chap though, so I won't go into a rant. *sniff* Yea, poor Sammy, he didn't ask to go on this quest, DID HE GANDALF!?! *glares murderously* AHEM! Yea. THANK YOU FOR THE REVIEW! ^-^ hope you liked this chapter too! *shroom!*
Sami1010200- Thanx! :oD
A E Amdusias Blue- *hands more ducktape* I'M SORRY! Maybe I'll start writing fluff after this. THANK YOU FOR REVIEW THOUGH! *shroomie... geez I'm starting to run out*
Skye12- *grits teeth* my...comp...is...so...EVIL! OMG! IT WON'T LET ME READ YOUR STORY! THE TORTURE! THE PAIN! THE AGONY! *writhes on the ground, while Frodo watches with a look of revenge* It's been killing me! Just know I'm sure it's positively magnificent and I must get to the library soon and read your updates before I completely crack! If I haven't already *shifty eyes* Hm, perhaps we are crazy *Frodo and Sam look shocked at the very idea* heh, we won't go into a rant like that again, I promise! Next review will be nice and sane, you'll see! (I hope) *does a little jig* I'm a nutbag, a nutbag, a nutbag! Hee hee I like that expression! THANK YOU SOO MUCH FOR THE REVIEWSIE! You had be bouncing off the walls with excitement when you reviewed, cause like, I love your story and I was really excited *trails off staring down the mouths of twenty so pistols* I think they've come to tranquilize me again... anywayz, truckload of shrooms for you! ^_^
Chaos- Glad you like it! Hope you liked this chappie too. Thank you soo much!
Danny Barefoot- Thank you soo much! Sorry I wasn't creative enough to think of something entirely unique for hobbits to turn in to, hope little orcs were okay... Must go read Mary Borsillio's fic! I'm excited! Don't worry, Evil!Frodo is coming soon enough! Thanks again for all your help!
QT-Pie- *is stroking review when Frodo stomps in and steals it from her* GIVE IT BACKSESS! *notices people watching* oh, um, heh heh, hi! I can't even put into words how much I love your reviews, so I'm not even gonna try and am just gonna say THANK YOU SOO MUCH I LOVE YOU! *shrooms shrooms shrooms!*
*rubs wrists and weighs empty shroom bag in hands* I don't think I've ever responded to so many reviews in my LIFE! THANK YOU SOO MUCH YOU GUYS! *tear*