Hey, y'all. This chapter turned out longer than I expected... very long, for one of my chapters. I had it all written out from over vacation, but when I came back and started typing it, it sort of... grew...
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Disclaimer- I do not own the song that the hobbits sing in the flashback, although I made up the verse that Pippin sings and altered some of the words so that they would fit into this fic. When I was visiting my cousins they taught me this song. I do not know where they got it from; perhaps they made it up themselves. No matter. I still do not own it.
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Forever Young- ::smiles fondly:: Ah, yes... Elijah was and is the most adorable person on this Earth. ::cuddles little baby Elijah:: And, yes, Merry will become a very conflicted character, but he will have no qualms about killing poor Frodo, if he gets the chance. But, you know, he could be seen as the smartest one, since everyone else would have been better off killing Frodo. Merry always did have the most common sense when it came to making hard decisions like that... plus he loved Pippin more than anyone else so he wants his revenge as well.
Arwenfrodogurl- sorry, can't stop now! And neither can you... you must keep reading! I promise that you will soon have reason to sympathize with Frodo again... just bear with me!
Yellowrose- yes, I can't seem to give any of the characters a break, can I? That sure sounds like someone I know... ::coughs and looks accusingly at yellowrose:: btw, I have been reading and enjoying "At the End of All Things." What a lovely conclusion! I just haven't had the time to review... after I got back from vacation a couple of days ago I had so much to catch up on. But great job! I hope that I can count on something new soon... there aren't enough SamAngst fics out there let alone good ones... and now that both you and Laurajslr finished your fics, I don't know what I'm going to do with myself! You should try writing something shorter... then I can read it faster! Hurry up!
Laurajslr- I'm glad you liked the light paragraphs... I was really close to taking them out because I thought they did not go with the mood of the fic, but I figured I needed to put in some humor, which I also love writing with all my heart. I had a very hard time with all 3 of those characters, and I'm glad you liked them! I had the same feeling about Merry, but I couldn't find anything to fix... I figure I'll get to know his character better as time goes on. And is Merry going to die? Everyone's lives are in danger at this point and some main characters have yet to die, but I will not say if Merry is one of them... but it was very perceptive of you to see that little bit of what might be foreshadowing... I put that out there to make you nervous... I'm glad I succeeded.
AuraMaiden- well, you'll be very pleased with this chapter, because Sam is back! However, I don't know if you'll like how I treat the poor hobbit...
Frodo's Sister- This fic isn't nessisarily about Frodo becoming as evil as the Dark Lord. Remember, Sauron cannot be defeated until the ring is destroyed. However, Frodo claimed the ring (therefore allowing the ring to claim him) when he was under the false impression that he could defeat the Dark Lord by using the ring. However, Frodo miscalculated and is now being controlled by the Dark Lord, but part of him is still struggling against his captor. There will be more detailing of his struggle in chapter 10. I would very much appreciate it if you gave this fic a chance, for I am trying very hard to justify all of my character's actions.
Somebody- Thank you for your kind words. And a definite comparison can be made between Gollum and Frodo. Frodo is fighting against the ring's power as hard as Smeagol, if not harder.
Me- if you read the response I gave to Frodo's sister, that is basically the same thing I would say to you. I have tried to justify every action taken with evidence from the book.
Breck- thank you so much for your series of wonderful reviews! They really made my day! For a while I was getting all positive reviews, but then a bunch of new people came in and told me that Frodo would never become evil, and so on and so forth... It was so refreshing to have a new reviewer to come in and like the story! Well, I'm back to Frodo and Sam now, so I hope that makes you happy... it certainly makes me happy... I love those two! ::huggles Frodo and Sammie::
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Chapter 9: Bonds Forged and Severed
With all of his will, Sam resisted his sudden urge to bash himself against the great stone door that separated him from freedom until it crumbled to dust, having the distinct feeling that such a performance would do him no good. Instead, he crawled into the corner, hugging his legs to his chest and burying his face in his knees. He pushed himself deeper into the corner, and when he could not squeeze his body any further into it, he clenched his eyes shut and began to chant in a low trembling voice, "This is not real. I in the garden, dozing off. This is not real. Any moment, Mr. Frodo will come and wake me with his gentle hand on my shoulder, and his gentle voice in my ear. This is not real." But the image would not take hold in Sam's mind, and melted away like a snowflake in the grip of Udun. "Mr. Frodo, my dear master, where have you gone to?"
Voices rose up from somewhere beneath the prison of Samwise, clambering up the rushing stair until they reached his lonely ears. In his darkened corner, Sam slowly lifted his golden head, heavy with the aching weariness that comes with the soul's agony. He stood unsteadily on quaking legs, bracing himself against the cold wall. He found that, if he pressed his ear against the door, he could hear the voices fairly clearly.
"My lord, what thou suggesteth, 'tis naught but a simple beating. Surely thou couldst design something more inventive, at the least?"
"Castellan, I must ask you not to question me or my judgment. All grotesque methods of torture I will leave you to divine, seeing as that is your specialty. However, when I am the one who is dealing with Samwise, I will do as I please. Are you hearing me quite clearly?" Sam's body tensed at the sound of his master's once soft and melodic voice, now hardened with the sound of one who has passed the point where he can feel pain. Panic threatened to rise from within Sam once again when he realized what Castellan was speaking of, and he struggled to maintain his composure. Castellan continued,
"Your pardon, my lord, but I feel the need to tell thee that it has become my firm belief that thou art continuing to harbor some sympathy for the halfling. This must be true, or else he would be much worse off than he is now. This has rung clearly enough from thy speech, my lord."
To stop himself from hoping that Castellan's words held any truth, more than anything else, Sam muttered to himself, "Very peculiar, that is. Why is he so quick to call him, 'my lord' and such, and be so very polite- like? Now, Samwise, if someone had just killed your master, and come and took his place like it was nothing, you wouldn't be so quick to take to him, now would you? Of course you wouldn't, Sam Gamgee, you would be more than a fool to do such. Than why does this Castellan fellow, if that's even his name, let Mr. Frodo come in and do just the same?" Sam was thoroughly perplexed by this question, and decided the Castellan couldn't have liked his first master very much. "And who would? Brrr! The very thought makes my skin crawl!"
While Samwise had been entertaining this matter, there was a loud thump! and Frodo had mumbled something that Sam could not discern from his lofty seat. There was the sound of the shuffling of feet and he said in a clearer voice, "The fool is a traitor, and I do not tolerate the like, as you would do well to note. I will show him not even the smallest mercy until he submits himself back into my service."
It seemed, to Sam, Castellan was not taking notes, for he said without a suggestion towards any hesitation, "Why dost thou care if he serves thee? The halfling is as worthless as the filthiest orc, perhaps even more so. The very fact that thou carest whether he gives his allegiance unto thee is a testament to thy feelings towards him – my lord!" he added hastily.
Sam, cringed, knowing that Castellan had not acted with wisdom. Frodo roared, "If you again presume to question my motives, I will, I swear this to you Castellan, torture you alongside Samwise. And," he added with a bitter tone, "I will be as 'inventive' as my mind allows me."
Sam decided with some surety that Castellan had finally grasped the concept that Frodo did not like to be questioned, for, as far as Sam could hear, the man did not even allow himself a hiss of anger. Samwise pressed his ear more firmly against the door, hoping to hear more of his master and Castellan, if only to distract himself from his predicament. However, Sam was never granted that opportunity.
The door was, suddenly and without warning, flung open, and Sam himself was flung backwards several feet. In strode Castellan, glaring down at him with contempt, and behind him was Frodo, shaking his head in an almost fond fashion. "My dear Sam, some things shall never change, shall they?" The affection in his voice was so terribly genuine that Sam had a very hard time at convincing himself that his master was merely mocking him. It seemed that Castellan was plagued by the same trouble, for his eyebrows were raised so high that they threatened to come flying off above his head.
However Frodo did not take long to dispel all of their doubts, for he continued on the same breath, "How many times must I tell you that only bad little lads drop eaves, especially on their master! You must be a very terrible little boy to do it so many times! It seems to me that I have no choice but to punish you. Come, now." Frodo offered his hand to Sam. When Sam did not take it, but only stared up at his master with fearful brown eyes, Frodo took the hand he had been holding out, and slapped Sam's face with great force. Sam gasped and his own hand rushed to where he had been hit and he held it their as his face smarted and stung. "Castellan!" called Frodo, "I believe I need your assistance with this young hoodlum!"
Before Sam could so much as move, Castellan had him by the wrist, and was dragging him to the opposite wall, where there hung some wicked looking chains with cruel spikes on the cuffs. The poor hobbit recoiled in horror and began to scream as if his very soul were being wrenched from his body. Desperately, he kicked at Castellan's left ankle. As the man fought to maintain his balance, he loosed his grip on Sam's wrist. Without a second thought, he fled to the door, which Frodo had foolishly left slightly open. In a heartbeat, Sam was there, his small fingers working themselves desperately into the small crack that his master had left. He pulled with all his might, now sweating and panting. The door was so heavy! But there! he could almost fit himself through! Just a little bit more and...
Strong hands gripped him, under his arms and lifted him from the ground! Sam blinked, disoriented, as the room seemed to spin around him. The hobbit discovered himself to be thrown over Castellan's broad shoulder. With a mighty cry, he beat his tiny fists against the man's back, and kicked furiously at his hardened chest. But Castellan, who was very surprised by the halfling's valiant fight, had learned his lesson, and was holding Sam tightly, undaunted by his small kicks and screams.
Samwise found himself being thrown roughly against the wall, and all the air was knocked out of his lungs. As he gasped in pain, fighting down the rising nausea in his stomache, Castellan faced him towards the wall and chained both his wrists and ankles. Sam howled in agony, as the small spikes were driven into his flesh, rivulets of blood running down his arms. "Ma-ake him sto-op M-mister Frodo! Ple-ase!" Sam's voice was shaking uncontrollably, and he thought dully that he must be on the verge of hysteria, but he found that he did not care.
His pitiful pleas went unheeded, as Castellan pulled a large crank. Sam's chains were pulled tightly so that his body was stretched out as far as it would go, his feet dangling about a foot off the ground and his arms reaching up towards the ceiling. Sam's muscles screamed as they were stretched and stretched until he felt they would snap. Crack! Pain like cold fire shot from his shoulder through his arm. He clenched and unclenched his fists, trying so hard not to think of the pain. Breathe. Clench. Unclench. Breath. Clench. Unclench. Breathe. Breathe.
Abruptly, the pulling stopped, and Sam was left dangling. Dimly, he heard jumbles of words echoing in his mind until they became mere sounds with no meaning. He is ready for thee, my lord. Which whip do you believe will suite my purposes the best? That one, certainly but don't you think that thisonehascertainadvantages? Yesbut... Breathe. Breathe.
"Samwise Gamgee, I shall give you one last chance to avoid what promises to be a thoroughly dreadful experience."
Master, don't you know me?
"All you must do is accept your servitude to me, and all this unpleasantness can be avoided. Is this really so hard?"
Sam was in such a state that he could not even pull together a coherent answer. "Murderer," he mumbled, half gone from the waking world.
"What did you say?"
"Murderer!" Sam cried, loud and sure despite the tearing sensation in his throat.
Swish! Snap! Crack! Frodo's whip fell swiftly onto Sam's back, leaving a fiery trail in its wake. Mr. Frodo! Why don't you love me no more? Pain. Sam had never imagined there could be any pain such as this, so terrible, so complete.
Swish! Snap! Crack! Another slash across his back; another scream ripping through the air. More warm blood running down his body; more sweat trickling down his face. Where was he? Mr. Frodo, me dear, where have you gotten to?
Swish! Snap! Crack! The whip sang as it beat upon him in its relentless, persistent pattern. Would it never end? He's laughing at me, thought Sam dully, why does my dear master hate me so? Frodo! Is this my master?
Swish! Snap! Crack! No, this was not the Frodo he knew, not the Frodo who was always smiling, always laughing...
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Frodo's laugh, or at least, his laugh as Sam remembered it from the faraway days of the Shire, was peaceful and sweet with a strange rippling melody, like lemonade on a hot summer's day. Sam would perk up his keen ears as he knelt in the garden, straining to hear that lovely sound come rushing over the lazily rolling hilltops like a bubbling stream.
It was one of those languid summer afternoons where the stagnant air seems to hum and vibrate, and the occasional breeze whispers soft songs of quiet sleep. Sam was in the garden, blinking hazily as the air seemed to press in on him, heavy and insistent that he lay down his head and drown in the heat of the day. He yawned loudly, and it seemed to disturb the sleepy silence of the afternoon. Even the birds were quiet, too hot and tired to sing their cheerful tunes.
Sam finally gave in and stretched out his body, propping his head up against a tree. He sighed contentedly. Mr. Frodo was away visiting in Buckland, and wouldn't be there to catch him napping in the garden, although, Sam had to admit, even if he were in Bag End he would hardly blame Sam for doing so. Mr. Frodo. For a moment, worry flickered through his mind. On any day other than this, the young gardener would have been beside himself with worry. Frodo had been supposed to be back at Bag End the night before, but had never come. He really ought to- Sam yawned loudly. The afternoon sun would simply not allow him to be bothered. His mind drifted away over the hills and sparkling Bywater Pool and the glowing wheat dancing in the fields to a forest, lush, cool, and green with small pools filled to the brim with topaz waters and small rushes of green moss spilling forth into it. The waving grasses were soft and cool, sprinkled with dew and small, jeweled flowers, blooming with variety and intensity. Sam waded into the shimmering pool with no trepidation, feeling its refreshing coolness wash over him. He had never felt so alive!
He became aware that there was a soft voice hovering in the air, dancing in a brilliant chorus with the birds. It struck Sam after a minute or two that this singing sounded distinctly like laughter, but that realization did not take away from its dryad loveliness.
Now there was a soft, tickling sensation on his nose. Sam ignored it at first, content to listen to the music playing distantly on the wind, but as it became more persistent he gave in and scratched it. But the bebothered itch would not let him be! "Hrumph!" Sam said angrily, and scratched it with a renewed vigor, but to no avail! It seemed now that the laughter was now not at all pleasant, and in fact, seemed like many voices laughing together, loudly and cruelly. Sam opened his eyes.
There was young Perigrin Took squatting next to him, his face only inches from Sam's, a feather in hand. He was snorting in a most unbecoming fashion, obviously trying to stifle his rude laughter. And beside little Pippin was his elder cousin, Meriadoc Brandybuck, who was only two years younger than Sam and was also attempting, rather obviously, to conceal something behind his back.
"Hrumph!" said Sam again, and sat up, not caring in the least that Pippin toppled backwards. He found that Merry was holding an empty water bucket! Sam blinked stupidly and suddenly realized that he was dripping wet with water, no doubt, from Merry's bucket.
Sam jumped to his feet, not exactly sure what he was going to do, only that it would be painful, when he realized that standing over the two cousins was his master, Frodo Baggins. The unfortunate gardener looked down at his soaked, filthy, dirt-ridden body, and his face turned a bright crimson. "M-mister Frodo!" he cried, attempting futilely to brush the dirt off of his clothes (futilely because all the dirt had turned to mud when dear Merry had literally tried to drown him in slumber!) Frodo was still laughing, clutching his sides and shaking all over, his dark curls bouncing with merriment.
"Oi, Frodo! Did you catch sight of this scoundrel sleeping in your garden? What shall you do with him? I would suggest hanging him from this tree by his ankles, although that is only my personal preference..."
"Merry, I know you shall not believe this, but underneath all that filth and grime, that hoodlum is my gardener!"
"Really, Frodo? That is very interesting. I, myself, would have never recognized him due to the layer of mud masking his features. But seeing as he is your gardener, I would suggest firing him straightaway."
Sam goggled and gaped at the group rather unbecomingly, as Frodo laughed some more. "Don't be thick, Sam! We're only joking! I would never even think of firing, especially not for napping on a lazy afternoon such as this. I am told that for most hobbits, sleep is rather inescapable on summer days like today. Just ask Pippin," he said, gesturing to his young cousin, who had curled up on the ground and was snoring gently. Sam smiled shyly as Frodo continued, "I am rather hurt that you think me such an unkind employer that I would in fact fire you for such a silly reason."
Sam blushed, for he hadn't thought of that, and muttered, "Sorry, sir."
Frodo laughed again, and said, "Quite all right, Samwise," and gave him a friendly cuff on the shoulder. He proceeded to haul a wildly protesting Pippin to his feet as he said, "Since I can see that none of us are going to get any work done today, I suggest that we all play a game. Yes, even you, Sam."
"I really must protest, cousin," said Pippin authoritatively and in his most grown-up manner. "I am too old for your childish games. Do you forget that I am now a tween and am not given to indulge in such trivialities?"
Frodo said in an airy voice, "Do not be ridiculous, Mr. Perigrin Took. I am twice as old as you are, and still play games. So, a game we shall play!"
"Mr. Frodo, what game shall we pay?" inquired Samwise with unabashed eagerness.
Frodo took what Sam had privately entitled his "thoughtful pose," where he put one arm across his chest and rested his other elbow on it, and stroked his chin with that hand, his feet planted apart. "Sam," he said eventually, "since we have so rudely embarrassed you, we shall play a game that is very much to your liking," (at this point he seated himself on a bench, and the other three hobbits sat on the ground, gathering in closer with anticipation) "We shall make our own song!" he concluded triumphantly as he watched Sam's eyes go alight with joy.
"But how?" the gardener asked, his eyes wide with awe. Mr. Frodo was the cleverest hobbit he should ever hope to know, he thought proudly.
"Since I am the eldest," answered Frodo, "I shall make up the chorus. Then, we will each make up a verse, and there is our song. Simple!"
The other hobbits gave exclamations of excited agreement so Frodo began,
"Boom, boom! Ain't it great to be crazy?
Boom, boom! Ain't it great to be crazy?
Giddy and foolish the whole day through!
Boom, boom! Ain't it great to be crazy?
"Now it's your turn, Sam," said Frodo. "You have to make up the first verse. Go on!"
Sam blushed profusely and said, "I'd rather you do it, sir, if you don't mind, that is. I'm not sure how I ought to do it, if you know what I mean, sir."
"I suppose I can, Sam, if you want me to. But you must know that there is no way that you 'ought to do it.'
"A horse and a flea and three blind mice
Sat on a curbstone shooting dice.
The horse he slipped, and he fell on the flea!
'Oi,' said the flea, 'there's a horse on me!'"
Sam did not feel at all comfortable, especially after seeing his master belt out lyrics like it was nothing. His face was red, but finally he sang in a melodic, cheery voice,
"Way down south where bananas grow,
A flea stepped on an Oliphaunt's toe.
The Oliphaunt cried, with tears in his eyes,
'Why don't you pick on someone your size?'"
This earned a laugh from the group, and as soon as it had faded, Merry added his bit.
"Way up North where there's ice and snow,
There lived a penguin. His name was Joe.
He got so tired of black and white,
He wore pink trousers to the dance last night!"
Frodo and Sam laughed appreciatively, while Pippin asked loudly, "Why is it that I always go last?"
"Because you're the youngest," said Merry angrily, because Pippin hadn't laughed at his verse.
"Don't you listen to him," said Frodo calmingly, "It is because one must always save the best for last. Don't you know that, you silly Took?"
"Oh, I see," said Pippin, grinning widely as Merry snorted with disgust. He began to sing in his high, sweet voice,
"Way out west where there's peace and green
A gard'ner thought he had met a queen
He got so drunk on her ale and rum,
When he danced with her, he fell on his bum!"
Merry laughed loud and long at this obvious reference to an unfortunate incident of Sam's at the Green Dragon with his sweetheart, Rosie. Frodo raised his eyebrows and looked at his gardener, curious as to what his reaction would be to this stinging insult. Poor Sam was fairly brisling with anger. He stood there for a moment, seemingly debating with himself, and then charged right at Pippin, bringing him to the ground with a heavy tackle and pouncing on his stomache.
"Oi, Sam!" Pippin cried, "You're getting a little heavy there, aren't you?"
"Arg!" answered Sam, and pinned the tween's arms down. He proceeded to tickle the poor little hobbit until he shrieked. Frodo and Merry watched the proceedings with apt fascination. "No more! No more!" Pippin giggled, and finally Sam released him.
As Sam rose, Frodo looked up at him, humor dancing about in his eyes. Sam looked at the ground, feeling a little guilty. "Begging your pardon, Mr. Frodo, but I had to do it."
Frodo too climbed to his feet, and put his arm around Sam's shoulder. "I understand perfectly, my dear Samwise." And he laughed again, so full of joy and merriment, that Sam thought it was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard. And the birds were suddenly alive with the glory of the day, and they laughed with him, just like in Sam's dream.
And so, for the rest of the day the hobbits were content and comfortable, until the sun sunk below the horizon, casting them all in her golden hue,
"Boom, boom! Ain't it great to be crazy?
Boom, boom! Ain't it great to be crazy?
Giddy and foolish the whole day through!
Boom, boom! Ain't it great to be crazy?"
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As Sam listened to the cruel laughter filling the chamber to the brim with evil, so much that it was a wonder that it did not overflow, he thought to himself, "No, Samwise Gamgee, this is not your Frodo."
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Phew! That was a long chapter! I believe that it was twice as long as any of the other chapters I have written, so I hope it was worth the wait. The first half of this chapter was so awful, I figured I had to give you guys a break with the second half.
I must ask you, with all my heart and soul, to please read some of my other fics. If you liked my little flashback scene, then I highly recommend, "A Hobbit's Ode to the Creation of the Donut," and "Sam's Farewell to the Beer- Barrel in the Cellar." If you like my angst-ridden sappy stuff, then I suggest you read "Friend," although the style is a bit more poetic than in this fic. I also write poems! If you like poetry, check them out!
And that is all from the shameless plugging segment.
As always, review, and Toodles!
