At the Cracks of Doom
A fourth LOTR fiction by Iorhael
Rate: PG
Warning: AU, angst
Disclaimer: All characters, setting, and even the plot belongs to the greatest author and storyteller, Prof. J.R.R. Tolkien. This story is an imaginative elaboration of what Tolkien mentioned in his letters in The Green Book.
Summary: Gollum bit off the Ring from Frodo. Gollum took over the hold of the Ring. But Gollum did not slip. Oh, no, he did not.
AN: I dared myself to beg Aralithiel to beta this for me. I want to see her reaction on the plain work of mine compared to the grander pieces of hers. And I am so glad she agreed to have a look at it. So, any great things written here belong to her. Emma and MBradford, my apology for not asking you this time. I mean to give you two a surprise. This story is dedicated to you. Hope you like it!
Chapter 1
"We've come, Sam." Frodo straightened, his voice barely a whisper. Several paces ahead of him the Cracks of Doom gaped in mocking revelry as the flames danced and capered along its edge.
They had been crawling up, Frodo and Sam, silently and wearily, to this place, not realizing how near they had come to the end of their quest. No, not the end yet. There was still something terribly important Frodo had to do. Something that Frodo almost had no more energy left to execute.
It was dark, menacingly dark around them, until Frodo stepped further, toward the edge of the gap. Frodo caught his breath. The blazing heat from the tongues of fire deep down below him almost toppled him over. It was the kind of heat Frodo had never experienced before. And the sulfuric smell was so sharp Frodo almost gagged.
"Yes, Mr. Frodo," replied Sam weakly. Frodo turned around, feeling almost sorry for his loyal gardener. Frodo vaguely remembered Sam with a much rounder body and face, but that was no longer so. This journey had withered Sam's once-husky frame until it was almost as slight and pitiful as his own. Frodo wondered how many times Sam had gone without in favor of his master.
"No, Sam," protested Frodo in a cracked voice once. "You need to eat, too. I still need you, Sam." But Sam just shook his head. Mr. Frodo needed it more than him, with the mounting burden he still had to bear. "Well," Frodo sighed. "All right if you insist, then. But at least have some drink." This time Sam gave up, taking a wee gulp of water. Nothing refreshing, though. It was oily and horrifyingly bitter. What could they hope to find in this cursed land of Mordor? At least the water was not poisonous.
Sam's apparent weariness could also be explained by his insistence on carrying Frodo on his back at times when he found his master drooping and unable to raise himself anymore. It was a miracle that he could do that, Sam mused, but he had promised never to leave Frodo and promised to do anything to help him in this impossible task.
But Frodo was far from himself, too. The once sparkling eyes of his were now dimmed. Frodo's body was nothing more than skin and bones, clad in tattered and shabby orc rags. Filthy, unkempt, spent, and completely exhausted.
Frodo forced a smile for his gardener. "Finally, Sam."
"Yes, Mr. Frodo. And now," Sam reached for Frodo's shoulder, kneading it gently. "It is the time."
The two hobbits were so deep in their own reveries they did not notice a sneaking figure coming out of a dark cave not far behind.
"Tricksy --- tricksy hobbitsess. Murdererss--- Yess, they kill the old ladyss. Now they must pay, oh yess, they will---" But the hissing sound was still too low to be heard, not that Gollum cared if they did hear him or not.
What really caught the creature's attention was the loving grasp of the nasssty gardener to his master and that completely averted Gollum's mind from Shelob's figure, lying wounded and perhaps even dying in the dark passes of her noisome lair. Gollum's mind drew back to the memory of two sleeping hobbits not long before this. Or, was it long enough already? Certainly not for Gollum for it was still fresh in the twisted being's mind how Frodo and Sam both slept soundly as if nothing in the foul air of Mordor could disturb them.
Frodo was lying on his back, the upper part of his body resting on Sam's lap. And Sam was sitting down, leaning on a tree with one hand clamping over Frodo's chest and the other over Frodo's forehead.
Gollum was drowned in his own mind, eyes darting unseeingly, lips parting forming a weird yet sweet smile. Those hobbits had looked so peaceful, and Gollum's affection toward Frodo deepened. He had actually grown to respect the young hobbit, much younger than himself, ever since Frodo spoke on his behalf against Sam's rude remark.
Sam. Yess. That cruel hobbit must be finished soon. He had called Gollum sneak. Yess, he did. He had called Gollum loathsome names. And that was totally unforgivable. Gollum had only wanted to touch Frodo, to caress the peaceful, dozing hobbit, never intending to hurt him, let alone snatching off the Ring. But the fat hobbitsss had then snapped awake and accused him of wanting to harm Frodo. Sneak, thief, were just some of the names the cruel hobbit had thrown at him.
Gollum had to kill the unpleasantly plump gardener. Yess, he had to do that.
"--- I will not do this deed! THE RING IS MINE!" A thundering voice yanked Gollum back to reality. Hardly recognizing the voice as the gentle hobbit's, Gollum focused his sight and caught Frodo's looming frame at the edge of the fissure, lifting the Ring high in the air, eyes gleaming in sovereignty – eyes that seemed not to belong to the Frodo that Gollum had come to know. And Gollum saw how the gardener fell on his knees beside his possessed master, quivering and trembling both in disappointment and trepidation.
"Frodo, no!!" Sam's voice was unbelievably small compared to Frodo's. Sam scrambled up and flailed his hands, trying to reach at the Ring squeezed in between Frodo's thumb and forefinger, but it was too far. He could only seize his master's sleeve.
"Foolss!" hissed Gollum. "Let him go, you ninnyhammerss!" Gollum blindly felt around and his claws caught the biggest rock near him. He stormed forward and jumped high, and with a screeching scream, he slammed the rock hard at the unaware hobbit's head. Completely caught off his guard, Sam did not realize the danger coming upon him fast and deadly. The rock struck him hard on his skull, leaving him to reel and stagger backward.
"F – frodo---" Sam whined weakly, rolling his eyes back and going totally slack and limp, before witnessing how his master eventually claimed the Ring – putting it on the third finger of his right hand.
--- and whap! Frodo disappeared into thin air.
Gollum was aghast, open-mouthed in an utter shock.
"NO!" he shrieked one long moment after he could finally get back to himself. No! The hobbit could not take IT! It was his! His own! His preciousss! It meant a lot more than Frodo – however deep Gollum's fondness was.
Gollum gave a long, sharp stare at the empty air where Frodo had been standing, and leapt forward. Feeling sure that the hobbit still hovered around the place, Gollum jumped up, another shrill voice heard in the darkness.
And he was right. Gollum was right. He felt something and he caught it. It felt like a flailing hand. And Gollum took it close to – his mouth. And bite he did – and he bit hard.
A wailing scream full of pain pierced the air, coming seemingly out of nowhere – before its owner re-emerged a moment later. Panting vigorously, Frodo cast himself to the ground. His eyes darted around wildly, trying to adjust to the bleakness – save for the fire from the fissure. Frodo looked almost confused. Almost – as he was also burned inside with rage. He had almost gone home, with the Ring around his finger. And although everything seemed blurred in the shadow's world, Frodo could see clearly all the battles in which men and elves fought against the Dark Power. And Frodo could see that the Dark Power – he – almost gained the victory.
But not anymore. The Ring had been snatched away from him without his knowing how or by whom. And the rage that was flooding all over him slowly diminished, turning to dread.
Then Frodo realized a short while later how his right hand was shaking uncontrollably, throbbing painfully. And HE was shaking uncontrollably to find out the reason why. Slowly Frodo raised his hand and with eyes widening in terror, he spotted a gap that was created between his fingers. One of them was missing, and a fountain of crimson streamed from the ragged wound. Frodo bellowed in agony, taking the maimed hand into the other one as if it would help lessen the pain. He started to feel nauseated and doubled over to the ground to stop himself from vomiting. For a moment the memory of the Ring was erased from his mind as he desperately tried to control the stinging pain.
Not once did Frodo notice the jumping and cavorting form not far from him. Frenzied by the joy of having successfully ripped back his 'precious', Gollum failed to notice the quivering, huddled-up figure near him, too. The figure of the former Ring bearer.
Eventually Gollum's outburts subsided and he dragged himself toward Frodo, eyes still glistening with ecstasy. He extended his hand to the hobbit, poking at the shoulder with gentle care.
"Frodo Baggins," Gollum called merrily.
Frodo jerked up to a sitting position, one hand still clasping upon the other, curly ruffles falling haphazardly to his face hiding his wild eyes. For a moment nothing else mattered but a gold band clutched between the crouching creature's fingers before him.
"Thief!" hissed Frodo, completely out of his usual self. Yet, he had NOT been his usual self during the journey. "Give it back to me at once! Give me back the Ring!"
Gollum seemed taken aback – and fumed. This was not something he had expected before. He was about – to share his happiness.
He was no longer crouching. Gollum loomed up as tall as he could, his fingers flying to Frodo's direction, clawing, and catching the hobbit in the throat.
"Aackk---" A choked sound emitted from the shocked Frodo. He flailed his bloody hands and gripped Gollum's wrists, attempting in vain to get rid of the bony limbs. Frodo's throat started to burn, his bones cracked, causing the pain from the bitten finger to be forgotten for a moment.
Gollum watched in excitement at the weakened hobbit. Frodo began to grow lax. There was barely any strength left in his body. Frodo's eyes rolled back as oxygen in his brain was thinning.
"What says you now, hobbitss?" Gollum sneered. "Who do you call thiefss, thiefss?!"
In between his desperate attempt to stay awake, Frodo's mind suddenly cleared, releasing the fury and instead focusing on another, more powerful sensation. Only fear. Fear. Gollum. The Ring. Gollum had the Dark Power in his grasp. And Frodo was to be the first victim. No. Sam. Sam was the first. Frodo was his second.
Another thing flashed across Frodo's brain. He had failed, Frodo hitched. Now Middle earth was going to collapse. And it was all because of him. Frodo shut his eyes more tightly in misery. He was leaving this world, peacefully or not.
But suddenly, a realization seemed to return in Gollum and he released Frodo in an abrupt toss. Frodo whimpered softly as he felt, dream-like, the hard thump at the back of his head.
Gollum seemed to grasp who was in front of him – a hobbit who had wisely and understandingly defended him from the other, fat, hobbit. A hobbit that empathized with Gollum's loneliness over the years. A hobbit he came to like very much.
Frodo groaned as consciousness seeped back to brain. He blinked the lids of his eyes, opening them, refocusing them – to catch his attacker in his sight. Frodo gasped and shrank back.
"No, please!" Frodo pleaded. But the jerking movement had caused his injured hand to sting again. "No – ahh!" Frodo brought his hand to the chest, covering it again with the other.
Frodo's rejection toward him saddened Gollum so. This should not be happening. Gollum – no. Smeagol. Smeagol loved Frodo. And it was this cursed half – Gollum – that had forced him to lead the hobbit to the old lady's lair to his near death.
Smeagol approached Frodo slowly and the hobbit threw himself further to the back – only to realize that he had been cornered as he felt a rough surface of rocks behind him. Smeagol stopped at once and spoke with the gentlest voice he thought he had.
"Fear not, hobbitss! Smeagol is good. Smeagol will not hurtss!"
The twisted creature realized Frodo was the first person in his lonely, 500-year-long life that had brought his memory back, making him remember his real name, although at the same time, making him aware of the thing he had done long, long time ago, murdering his own kin. But it was Frodo who freed Smeagol from the nightmare of the guilt.
Smeagol advanced again, stretching out, hardly comprehending the result of his action to Frodo, who stared at him in sheer panic.
TBC
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