Yellowrose- Yes, Pippin is dead. I, personally, do not believe in bringing
characters back to life once truly dead. For myself. I do not think I have
enough talent to make something like that believable. I also to not believe
in happy endings, generally. (For my fics, again. If anybody else had a
tragic ending, I would skin them alive. And yes, in case you were
wondering, I am a hypocrite.) As you can see, the updates will be coming
more quickly from now on.
Laurajslr- Indeed, Merry shall not be altogether pleased with the turn of events. Nor will Sam, in case you were wondering. As for Frodo going on a killing spree, I don't think he's going to do that... yet... As I said before, Pippin is going to remain dead. Sorry! He is not entirely gone from the narrative though... I am planning on having some flashbacks, and he will probably appear in some of those. I can promise you that he will not be the last casualty of my writing. I was quite mad at Gandalf myself, but before I could stop him, that part had been typed already and... well, you know how it is. But I can pretty much assure you that Sam won't be doing anything like *that* again... and not because of Gandalf's admonishment...
ElegantArrow64- yes, I am evil by nature. And I will continue to reinforce your assessment of me in future chapters *evil French laugh* ::hon hon hon::
Sami1010220- yes, Pippin. His cheerfulness and the general fact that he was liked by everybody made him the perfect target. I needed a way for all of our good guys to cast aside any sympathy they ever had for him. Sam would have worked as well, except I need him for the plot to continue.
Maikafuiniel- I will try... I promise... *backs away* don't kill me!
Abigail da Jedi- Yes, I am afraid it is true. But as I told Laurajslr, our dear little Pippin will be appearing in some flashbacks. This next chapter is quite short, but after this we will be getting to the good stuff. Promise!
******************
Chapter 6
Sam stumbled, the world spinning before him. All around him was a blur of sound and color, but he was keenly aware of his own body. The way his pulse was pounding in his ears; the way the stones bit his hands and knees as he fell to the ground. Someone was grabbing him, and Sam felt the coarse material of a woolen robe against his cheek, and a gnarled hand holding him close. His eyes burned terribly, and he could feel fiery rivers flowing forth and down his face. The taste of salt assaulted him, and his throat constricted. Suddenly, Sam wretched. He clenched his eyes shut tightly, trying in vain to shut out the misery about him, but found he could not. Opening up his eyes, the gardener found himself buried in Gandalf's robe, which was wet with his tears and vomit. Sam suddenly realized that Gandalf was still holding him tightly, whispering, "Be calm, Samwise. Be calm."
Sam suddenly felt furious. Why was Gandalf cradling him, giving him his sympathy? It was Pippin who deserved to be held and loved. But they couldn't! He was dead. Dead. The word echoed in Sam's head until if became a meaningless sound that he could not connect to the young hobbit. Pippin wasn't dead! Pippin was outside, playing in the garden, and Sam was telling him, "Mind you don't tread on the daisies, Mr. Perigrin Took." Pippin was watching him intently as he baked the apple pie, telling him that he was so happy that Sam was teaching him, and that when Sam came visiting, he would bake a pie for him, just to show him that he had learned. Pippin was picking cherries from the tree, and Sam was scolding him because they were not yet ripe. And there was Mr. Frodo, laughing, saying, "Oh, don't be such an old worrywart, Samwise. Let the lad have some fun."
Now Frodo was pushing Pippin to the ground and thrusting the sword through his heart. Pippin's blood was running in torrents and soaking into the dirt. Pippin was dead.
"'Twas my fault," thought Sam numbly. He had let Mr. Frodo live, even though he knew that his real master, the one who cherished him and had never raised a hand against him, was gone. Then this monster, this shadow of his old friend who bared no resemblance to his Frodo but in appearance, had killed little Pippin. Cheerful, innocent Pippin. Because of his own stupidity, he had lost two of those most dear to him.
Why was Gandalf holding him, as if he were one who did not deserve his misery?
The wizard was surprised when Sam pulled away from him. The young hobbit looked up at Gandalf with unfamiliar brown eyes, emptied of their innocent curiosity and filled with unspoken accusations and tears. They trailed down his dirt-smudged face, leaving in their wake a hint of the once healthy, tanned skin beneath the dust. He swallowed hard, barely managing to suppress the sob that was threatening to tear out of his throat, and turned away from the wizard.
Sam forced himself to turn his eyes to where little Pippin lay, his eyes closed and his lips parted slightly. A new wave of grief and nausea overtook him, and he struggled to keep his composure. And there was Mr. Frodo, standing over him. Sam had never seen anyone look so helpless before, but he did not waste his sympathies on his master. On Pippin's murderer.
Frodo dropped to his knees beside his cousin's body, and to everyone's surprise, began to weep in terrible, racking sobs. "What have I done? What evil has taken me for me to do such a deed?" With shaking hands, he took Pippin's shoulders and shook them crying, "Wake up! I'm sorry! I'll never do it again! Never, never, never! Oh, please!"
But Sam did not heed these words. An anger possessed him like none he had ever felt. An anger for his master's betrayal, and at himself for allowing this to happen. But, he vowed to himself, he would not make the same mistake again. "He doesn't hear you, and he never will. You killed him! You're a filthy liar and traitor, and this isn't the first murder you've done... you killed my master. You tore out poor Mr. Frodo's soul, and you made me let you live because I loved him! How could you? How..." He couldn't take it anymore. Sam broke into feverish tears. Above head he could here the cries of the Nazgul, circling over them. They would all be gone soon, but this murderer would be first.
Frodo looked up at Sam with wide blue eyes brimming with emotion. "But it is me Sam! I do not know what shadow possessed me, but it is passed, I swear to it!"
"There's nothin' you could say that I would believe, and that's a fact. And if you are listnin', Mr. Frodo, you know this is what I have to do." Sam knelt down beside Pippin, and whispered, "I'm sorry, Pip," and pulled the blade from his chest.
Aragorn could not help but give a small gasp. He instinctively began to stride over to Frodo and Sam, but Gandalf put out a hand to stop him. Aragorn looked at the wizard questioningly, but Gandalf said, "This is something that Sam must do, painful as it may be. It would be wrong to hinder him."
Aragorn bit his lip but nodded, watching in disbelief the one thing that he had thought would never happen come to pass.
Sam strode over to Frodo as best he could with the cumbersome sword. Frodo stumbled backward, fear gripping his pounding heart as the talons of a hawk strangle the life from their prey. "Sam! You cannot do this! Please!"
Sam desperately tried to block out his master's cries. "Don't you listen to that liar, Samwise Gamgee. He's not your Frodo, he's not, he's not..." He repeated these words in his head, as he struggled to master the large blade his hands. Sam swung the sword wildly, but his stroke went wide by several feet, for the weapon weighed heavily on the hobbit's small arms.
Suddenly, Frodo, seeing Sam's lack of skill with the oversized blade, got up and sent his fist furiously to the side of Sam's head. Fresh blood flowed down Sam's already filthy face. Frodo aimed a blow for his servant's stomach, but this time Samwise was prepared. He dodged the blow and attempted to get his free hand about Frodo's neck. But the young hobbit was dizzy from loss of blood, and he instead got a fistful of Frodo's raven curls. Frodo's neck snapped back, leaving his throat exposed to Sam's blade.
Again, the haunting cries of the fell beasts sounded in the bleak sky. Reflexively, Sam pulled his master closer to him, his body still recalling the long months in which he had shielded his ever-weakening master from the enemy. But now... now Frodo was the enemy, and the only action Sam could take was to free his master from the prison that his own body had become and save him from the fate of being Sauron's puppet for the rest of Middle Earth's dark Ages. And to do that, he had to kill him; drive Gandalf's sword into his chest as Frodo had to Pippin.
And yet, Sam's resolve wavered. How many times had he held Frodo in the same way, driving away his fears and whispering clumsy words of encouragement? How many times had he held Frodo like a child, banishing his demons with soft reassurances? There had to be another way, a way in which he could free Frodo from this evil shadow without slaying his dear master.
And suddenly the thought struck him, piercing him like a clear silver lance from the heavens. Sam recalled Gandalf telling himself and Frodo how Isildur had cut the ring from Sauron's hand. Could he not do the same? Indeed, it would cause Mr. Frodo pain, but perhaps one day his master would recover and they would again live together in the Shire. In peace.
Grabbing the offending hand, Sam attempted clumsily to get the sword into the proper position. He raised it above his head, attempting to grip it solidly.
There came a rush of wind, and a sound like the flight of a thousand crebain. Then came a cry, piercing and unbearably earsplitting. With a clatter the weapon fell to the ground, as Sam clutched his ears and clenched his eyes shut, teeth chattering. When he opened them, he beheld his master sitting astride the beast, eyes glinting with a wicked malice. "Ah, my simple servant, you have made the same mistake as poor Pippin. But, as you shall soon discover, his fate was a fortunate one. You will soon be begging me for a passing as easy as his, but that, my dear, is something I will not allow."
The fell beast beat its wings and lifted slowly from the ground. Removing his hands from his ears, Sam found them to be covered in blood. He felt the bile rise once again in his throat. Sam dully heard someone calling out his name. He turned to find Gandalf beckoning to him, crying out furiously, "Come here, you fool! Run! Speed! Speed!"
Sam ran, giving no heed to the resonance of the wings swooping behind him. Closer, closer, closer to safety he ran. Relief flooded over him; he was mere feet from the wizard. Then he felt something gripping his chest, and in panic poor Samwise realized that he was being lifted from the ground. "Nooooooooooooooo!" he cried out in despair. "Gaaaaaaaaaadaaaaaalf!" But it was all for naught. Samwise was caught helplessly in the claws of the fell beast.
**********
So, next chapter we will be getting to the exciting part—lots of Sam torture, hoorah! (I am way too happy about this...) There won't be anything horribly graphic, though. I don't think I could write anything too bad. Now I have a little favor to ask of all of you: can somebody please tell be how to make words bold and italicized? This info is going to be very much needed in the coming chapters. Thanks in advance.
Toodles!
~*Nymredil*~
Laurajslr- Indeed, Merry shall not be altogether pleased with the turn of events. Nor will Sam, in case you were wondering. As for Frodo going on a killing spree, I don't think he's going to do that... yet... As I said before, Pippin is going to remain dead. Sorry! He is not entirely gone from the narrative though... I am planning on having some flashbacks, and he will probably appear in some of those. I can promise you that he will not be the last casualty of my writing. I was quite mad at Gandalf myself, but before I could stop him, that part had been typed already and... well, you know how it is. But I can pretty much assure you that Sam won't be doing anything like *that* again... and not because of Gandalf's admonishment...
ElegantArrow64- yes, I am evil by nature. And I will continue to reinforce your assessment of me in future chapters *evil French laugh* ::hon hon hon::
Sami1010220- yes, Pippin. His cheerfulness and the general fact that he was liked by everybody made him the perfect target. I needed a way for all of our good guys to cast aside any sympathy they ever had for him. Sam would have worked as well, except I need him for the plot to continue.
Maikafuiniel- I will try... I promise... *backs away* don't kill me!
Abigail da Jedi- Yes, I am afraid it is true. But as I told Laurajslr, our dear little Pippin will be appearing in some flashbacks. This next chapter is quite short, but after this we will be getting to the good stuff. Promise!
******************
Chapter 6
Sam stumbled, the world spinning before him. All around him was a blur of sound and color, but he was keenly aware of his own body. The way his pulse was pounding in his ears; the way the stones bit his hands and knees as he fell to the ground. Someone was grabbing him, and Sam felt the coarse material of a woolen robe against his cheek, and a gnarled hand holding him close. His eyes burned terribly, and he could feel fiery rivers flowing forth and down his face. The taste of salt assaulted him, and his throat constricted. Suddenly, Sam wretched. He clenched his eyes shut tightly, trying in vain to shut out the misery about him, but found he could not. Opening up his eyes, the gardener found himself buried in Gandalf's robe, which was wet with his tears and vomit. Sam suddenly realized that Gandalf was still holding him tightly, whispering, "Be calm, Samwise. Be calm."
Sam suddenly felt furious. Why was Gandalf cradling him, giving him his sympathy? It was Pippin who deserved to be held and loved. But they couldn't! He was dead. Dead. The word echoed in Sam's head until if became a meaningless sound that he could not connect to the young hobbit. Pippin wasn't dead! Pippin was outside, playing in the garden, and Sam was telling him, "Mind you don't tread on the daisies, Mr. Perigrin Took." Pippin was watching him intently as he baked the apple pie, telling him that he was so happy that Sam was teaching him, and that when Sam came visiting, he would bake a pie for him, just to show him that he had learned. Pippin was picking cherries from the tree, and Sam was scolding him because they were not yet ripe. And there was Mr. Frodo, laughing, saying, "Oh, don't be such an old worrywart, Samwise. Let the lad have some fun."
Now Frodo was pushing Pippin to the ground and thrusting the sword through his heart. Pippin's blood was running in torrents and soaking into the dirt. Pippin was dead.
"'Twas my fault," thought Sam numbly. He had let Mr. Frodo live, even though he knew that his real master, the one who cherished him and had never raised a hand against him, was gone. Then this monster, this shadow of his old friend who bared no resemblance to his Frodo but in appearance, had killed little Pippin. Cheerful, innocent Pippin. Because of his own stupidity, he had lost two of those most dear to him.
Why was Gandalf holding him, as if he were one who did not deserve his misery?
The wizard was surprised when Sam pulled away from him. The young hobbit looked up at Gandalf with unfamiliar brown eyes, emptied of their innocent curiosity and filled with unspoken accusations and tears. They trailed down his dirt-smudged face, leaving in their wake a hint of the once healthy, tanned skin beneath the dust. He swallowed hard, barely managing to suppress the sob that was threatening to tear out of his throat, and turned away from the wizard.
Sam forced himself to turn his eyes to where little Pippin lay, his eyes closed and his lips parted slightly. A new wave of grief and nausea overtook him, and he struggled to keep his composure. And there was Mr. Frodo, standing over him. Sam had never seen anyone look so helpless before, but he did not waste his sympathies on his master. On Pippin's murderer.
Frodo dropped to his knees beside his cousin's body, and to everyone's surprise, began to weep in terrible, racking sobs. "What have I done? What evil has taken me for me to do such a deed?" With shaking hands, he took Pippin's shoulders and shook them crying, "Wake up! I'm sorry! I'll never do it again! Never, never, never! Oh, please!"
But Sam did not heed these words. An anger possessed him like none he had ever felt. An anger for his master's betrayal, and at himself for allowing this to happen. But, he vowed to himself, he would not make the same mistake again. "He doesn't hear you, and he never will. You killed him! You're a filthy liar and traitor, and this isn't the first murder you've done... you killed my master. You tore out poor Mr. Frodo's soul, and you made me let you live because I loved him! How could you? How..." He couldn't take it anymore. Sam broke into feverish tears. Above head he could here the cries of the Nazgul, circling over them. They would all be gone soon, but this murderer would be first.
Frodo looked up at Sam with wide blue eyes brimming with emotion. "But it is me Sam! I do not know what shadow possessed me, but it is passed, I swear to it!"
"There's nothin' you could say that I would believe, and that's a fact. And if you are listnin', Mr. Frodo, you know this is what I have to do." Sam knelt down beside Pippin, and whispered, "I'm sorry, Pip," and pulled the blade from his chest.
Aragorn could not help but give a small gasp. He instinctively began to stride over to Frodo and Sam, but Gandalf put out a hand to stop him. Aragorn looked at the wizard questioningly, but Gandalf said, "This is something that Sam must do, painful as it may be. It would be wrong to hinder him."
Aragorn bit his lip but nodded, watching in disbelief the one thing that he had thought would never happen come to pass.
Sam strode over to Frodo as best he could with the cumbersome sword. Frodo stumbled backward, fear gripping his pounding heart as the talons of a hawk strangle the life from their prey. "Sam! You cannot do this! Please!"
Sam desperately tried to block out his master's cries. "Don't you listen to that liar, Samwise Gamgee. He's not your Frodo, he's not, he's not..." He repeated these words in his head, as he struggled to master the large blade his hands. Sam swung the sword wildly, but his stroke went wide by several feet, for the weapon weighed heavily on the hobbit's small arms.
Suddenly, Frodo, seeing Sam's lack of skill with the oversized blade, got up and sent his fist furiously to the side of Sam's head. Fresh blood flowed down Sam's already filthy face. Frodo aimed a blow for his servant's stomach, but this time Samwise was prepared. He dodged the blow and attempted to get his free hand about Frodo's neck. But the young hobbit was dizzy from loss of blood, and he instead got a fistful of Frodo's raven curls. Frodo's neck snapped back, leaving his throat exposed to Sam's blade.
Again, the haunting cries of the fell beasts sounded in the bleak sky. Reflexively, Sam pulled his master closer to him, his body still recalling the long months in which he had shielded his ever-weakening master from the enemy. But now... now Frodo was the enemy, and the only action Sam could take was to free his master from the prison that his own body had become and save him from the fate of being Sauron's puppet for the rest of Middle Earth's dark Ages. And to do that, he had to kill him; drive Gandalf's sword into his chest as Frodo had to Pippin.
And yet, Sam's resolve wavered. How many times had he held Frodo in the same way, driving away his fears and whispering clumsy words of encouragement? How many times had he held Frodo like a child, banishing his demons with soft reassurances? There had to be another way, a way in which he could free Frodo from this evil shadow without slaying his dear master.
And suddenly the thought struck him, piercing him like a clear silver lance from the heavens. Sam recalled Gandalf telling himself and Frodo how Isildur had cut the ring from Sauron's hand. Could he not do the same? Indeed, it would cause Mr. Frodo pain, but perhaps one day his master would recover and they would again live together in the Shire. In peace.
Grabbing the offending hand, Sam attempted clumsily to get the sword into the proper position. He raised it above his head, attempting to grip it solidly.
There came a rush of wind, and a sound like the flight of a thousand crebain. Then came a cry, piercing and unbearably earsplitting. With a clatter the weapon fell to the ground, as Sam clutched his ears and clenched his eyes shut, teeth chattering. When he opened them, he beheld his master sitting astride the beast, eyes glinting with a wicked malice. "Ah, my simple servant, you have made the same mistake as poor Pippin. But, as you shall soon discover, his fate was a fortunate one. You will soon be begging me for a passing as easy as his, but that, my dear, is something I will not allow."
The fell beast beat its wings and lifted slowly from the ground. Removing his hands from his ears, Sam found them to be covered in blood. He felt the bile rise once again in his throat. Sam dully heard someone calling out his name. He turned to find Gandalf beckoning to him, crying out furiously, "Come here, you fool! Run! Speed! Speed!"
Sam ran, giving no heed to the resonance of the wings swooping behind him. Closer, closer, closer to safety he ran. Relief flooded over him; he was mere feet from the wizard. Then he felt something gripping his chest, and in panic poor Samwise realized that he was being lifted from the ground. "Nooooooooooooooo!" he cried out in despair. "Gaaaaaaaaaadaaaaaalf!" But it was all for naught. Samwise was caught helplessly in the claws of the fell beast.
**********
So, next chapter we will be getting to the exciting part—lots of Sam torture, hoorah! (I am way too happy about this...) There won't be anything horribly graphic, though. I don't think I could write anything too bad. Now I have a little favor to ask of all of you: can somebody please tell be how to make words bold and italicized? This info is going to be very much needed in the coming chapters. Thanks in advance.
Toodles!
~*Nymredil*~
