I apologize for the delay in updating this, but I have been really sick for the past 5 days and hacking coughs and fevers are not very conducive to writing (at least not for me!). I hope this chapter makes sense (I'm still running a low grade fever!) and that you all enjoy it!

Mogwort, Baileymag, and AouraMaiden: Welcome and thank you so much for reading my story! I am always excited when new people review (which is not to say that I appreciate my wonderfully devoted regular reviewers any less – you guys are the best!). I'm glad you've liked it so far and hope you continue to do so!

FrodoBaggins87: It won't be much longer now!

Gamgeefest: Saruman is just such a fun guy to have around! Yes, he's a little more serious about his general mayhem than Lotho!

Laurajslr: Sam isn't out of the running yet! It would be kind of dull if he did nothing but sit in some stinkin' lockhole for the rest of the story!

Samwise the Strong: Welcome back! I wondered where you'd disappeared to! Glad to see you haven't forgotten me. (

Sam: Ow! Biting is rather painful, wouldn't you say!? But, justly deserved. I didn't even think about Pippin and the palantir when I wrote the last chapter, but it is sort of the same concept.

Janna Hawkins: I think Lotho deserves a lot more than what the rebels did (and of course, he does end up paying the ultimate price once Saruman moves in).

LalaithoftheBruinen: I always have to check several times to make sure I have spelled your name correctly! LOL! How did you come up with it? Sorry this update was delayed, but here it is now! Hope you like it!

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Ch 23 Rebels Disbanded

It was dreary, drizzly autumn night and Sam was worried. Things had been changing in recent weeks and not for the better. It started with the arrival of new groups of ruffians from outside the Shire. The ones Lotho had hired previously had been bad enough, but whereas most of those were no more than bullies and thieves, the new arrivals had shown themselves to be far more violent and with few qualms against killing or torture. Sam remembered the bodies of the hobbits hanging from the trees when he first arrived. He learned later that fortunately, that kind of violence had been restricted to the outlying areas and was actually quite rare. After Fig's death, virtually no other hobbits had been killed leading many to believe that he had been the chief instigator of such cruelty. However with the arrival of the newcomers more killings were reported and the Lockholes were filling up quickly.

It was not just the populace that suffered. The Shire itself was under attack. New orders from Bag End had the ruffians chopping down the beautiful trees throughout the land. The Mill, which had already been expanded by Lotho's command, was changed even further. It was now a blight upon the beauty of the Shire, spewing black smoke into the air and foul substances into the Water, creating a nauseating stench to any who approached too closely.

It also appeared that there had been a change in management in Bag End. Although Lotho was still said to be in charge, all the new commands came from someone called "Sharkey" or simply the Boss. No one had actually seen Lotho in awhile; not that anyone cared, but most agreed that this Sharkey was even worse. Sam sighed. He had certainly been making their work more difficult. There had been several close calls when they were raiding the pipeweed caches. So far, none of the rebel band had been captured, but they were all concerned.

Tonight, Sam was more worried than ever. Several of the band had gone out to carry the stolen pipeweed to the meeting place near the Brandywine River. There, they would meet the hobbits from Bree who would then take the pipeweed on to the town where they would sell it. Fredegar and the others had left three nights ago and still were not back. Sam was sitting in the entrance of one of the many of the caves and holes that riddled the Hills of Scary watching for the return of his comrades.

As he sat there, the raw, biting rain seemed to penetrate to his very bones. Unconsciously, he turned his eyes toward the east, beyond Bree, beyond the Barrows. He was thinking of Frodo and how the two of them had huddled together in a similar rainstorm in the wilds of Emyn Muil. For the first time in a long time, Sam let himself really think about Frodo and what they had been through. Distantly, he could feel a few errant tears make their way down his cheek, then without warning, his sense of loss and grief threatened to overwhelm him as he felt sobs rise from deep within him. How he missed his beloved master! He rested his head on his knees and let his sorrow carry him away. He couldn't have stopped the tears even if he had wanted to. It was as if all the pain he had kept bottled up had finally managed to erupt and wouldn't stop until it had all been released.

How long he wept, he had no idea. Exhausted, he had finally collapsed onto the damp floor of the cave and an uneasy sleep took him. He only regained consciousness when he felt someone gently shaking him and calling his name. Slowly, Sam opened his eyes and blinking, saw the terrified face of Folco Bolger staring down at him. "Sam!" Folco cried again, "You must come right away! Something terrible has happened!" Without a word, Sam climbed to his feet and stumbled after Folco has he led the way back to the rebels' cavern.

There were only a few that had not gone on this trip to deliver the pipeweed, and those that remained were huddled about something near the fire. They looked up as Sam and Folco arrived, their faces reflecting a mixture of horror, fear and anger. As Sam approached, he felt a coldness descend upon him that had nothing to do with the weather. There, lying on the floor with his head supported by Tamblin, was Largo Brockenboring. His shirt was soaked in blood and a black-fletched arrow stood quivering in his side. His face was gray and soaked in sweat.

"Largo!" cried Sam in shock as he crouched beside him, "What's happened? Where are the others?"

Largo's eyes were closed as he fought for every rasping breath. Finally, he opened his eyes and peered up at Sam. "They were wating for us, Sam" he croaked weakly. "They knew we were comin' and ambushed us. I don't know how many they captured alive, but at least two or three others were killed outright." He paused, gasping for breath, trying to muster enough strength to go on. Sam reached to the bucket nearby and trickled some water between Largo's parched lips. Largo gave him a faint smile of thanks. "I had to come back," he whispered. "Had to warn you! You...must leave here. Now. They're coming...." The last was so faint, Sam barely made out the words. It was the last thing Largo ever said. His battered body shuddered in pain and with a final rattling breath, Largo was gone.

Sam and the others stared at Largo's body, unable to believe what had just happened. They had gone on so long without any serious problems, that somehow they had all come to believe that they were invincible. How wrong they had been. "If Lotho's men were indeed waitin' for them," said Sam finally, "That means someone must have talked! If so, they probably know where we are! Largo's right. We got to leave here straightaway!"

"But, where should we go?" asked Folco anxiously. "Lotho's men are everywhere!"

Sam thought for a moment. "We need to head north toward Dwaling. I hear there aren't many men up that away and it won't be so easy for the men to track us in the hills." He looked at the frightened faces before him. "I don't know about you lads, but I'm not ready to give up yet!"

There were only five of them left, but Sam's words gave them courage. They all knew something like this could happen one day, but seeing Largo's bloodied body before them was a terrifying reminder that this was no game. Quickly, the remaining members of the rebel band gathered their weapons and provisions and fled from the cavern that had been their home for so many months. They hadn't gone far up the hill outside the cavern entrance when they heard distant voices.

Sam turned around and peered through the dark and mist. Sound carried a long way in these conditions but he was certain the men would be there soon. Urging the others forward, they silently disappeared into the night.

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Saruman paced back and forth in the small hut he now called home. Although it looked plain on the outside, he had had it furnished quite comfortably and he rarely ventured out. Lately, he had been sending groups of his ruffians out to try and intercept the elusive band of rebels that had been operating somewhere around the Hills of Scary. The rebels had been causing considerable difficulty with the pipeweed shipments, and he wanted it stopped. Recently, he had put out the word that he would be willing provide a generous reward to anyone who could provide him with information leading to the capture of the band. A rather despicable hobbit living alone near the Brandywine had happened to catch sight of one of the exchanges between the rebels and the Bree hobbits and was more than happy to bring this information to Sharkey.

For almost two weeks Sharkey's men kept watch by the Brandywine without success, but just an hour ago, a messenger had arrived with the news that the rebels had been captured! Saruman was now awaiting further information. He wanted to know if all the rebels had been captured and if not, where were the rest?

A short while later, Saruman heard a knock at the door. Bill Ferny stood there with a triumphant smirk on his large mouth and a haggard looking hobbit held tightly in his grip. "'ello, Boss!" said Ferny, still grinning, "I brung ye one o' them troublemakers that's been makin' off with yer pipeweed. Figured ye might be wantin' ta talk to 'im!" With that, Ferny gave the hobbit a rough shoving, sending him sprawling across the floor.

"Thank you, Bill," said Saruman, his dark eyes narrowing as he examined the unfortunate prisoner. "How many did you capture?"

"Well," said Ferny thoughtfully as he swaggered into the hut. "I reckon there were 'bout ten o' the little rats. We done caught eight of 'em, and two's dead. O' course, there were more 'cross th' river, but we couldn't get to them in time."

Saruman nodded, then turned to the cowering hobbit before him. The hobbit was young, barely into his tweens, and not likely to put up much resistance. Saruman slowly advanced, his eyes boring into the hobbit's. "Tell me, master hobbit," said Saruman in his low, melodious voice, "What is your name?" Although Saruman had lost his magical powers with the downfall of Orthanc, he still had the power of his voice.

"W...Will Proudfoot, sir," stammered the young hobbit, unable to tear his eyes away.

"Excellent, Will," purred Saruman, "Now, you will tell me if there are any more rebels running loose, what their names are and where they are hiding. Do you understand?"

Will nodded as if mesmerized. "There are only six others sir. Tamblin Bracegirdle, Folco Bolger, Rory and Largo Brockenboring, and Sam Gamgee."

Saruman frowned at the final name. It sounded vaguely familiar somehow. Where had he heard it before? "Who is Sam Gamgee?" Saruman asked quickly.

"He..he's from Hobbiton," began Will in a frightened voice, but unable to stop himself. "He worked for Mr. Frodo Baggins in his gardens. Then, 'bout a year ago, he and Mr. Frodo disappeared with two others, Merry Brandybuck and Pippin Took. Sam says he and Mr. Frodo went to Mordor to destroy some ring. Sam came back in the spring, but the others aren't back yet." Will stopped, eyeing Sharkey nervously. The man had started to laugh, quietly at first, but soon his voice was filling the room.

"Samwise Gamgee!" he laughed. "Of course! I remember now! Gandalf told me all about Frodo and his companion! How perfect!" He then turned to Will again. "You will tell Master Ferny here exactly how to find the rebels' hideout, do you understand?" Will nodded quickly. Saruman then looked at Ferny. "I want the rest of those rebels brought in immediately," he ordered. "I especially want Samwise Gamgee and I want him alive." Bill nodded eagerly, then hurried away, hauling the hapless Will Proudfoot after him.

Saruman continued to laugh softly. He sat down in his chair before the fire and turned to the figure crouching in the corner. "I do not believe things could possibly have worked out better, my dear Wormtongue," he chortled. "Do you not see what this means? After what those miserable halflings did to me, it has been my intention to teach them that they cannot expect to come out of this unscathed. Thus, I have been doing my best to destroy their precious Shire. But now, think how much greater the pain when Frodo Baggins comes home to find not only his precious home has been destroyed, but his dearest companion as well! What a perfect ending!"