Slipping
A/N: I never thought that I would get so many reviews from this. I am really thankful. Enjoy Chapter 4!
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My sight withers upon this new arrival. In a sparking fear of intermission I feel my eyes glinting with hatred, coal fires ablaze as they rest on the light. I hiss soundly through my teeth, as if warning him away. He does not hear it.
I feel a rumble through the earth. My Master is growing sour in our lateness, for a moment I scowl for him as my time bides longer and the tremors fall down into the valleys from the Mountain as if they were rain. The stars dot out one by one as a thick, smoky cloud quickly takes over. The darkness has returned.
I clutch hold of Frodo still, my hand tightening on his throat. I take his hand for my trinket and persist to try another time…maybe there will be a chance before the sane approach. I notice how the hobbit's senses seem to grow and gain life at the sound of the new voice, and how his heart spirit rises in his chest.
"What is it, Master?" The other one continues to speak, moving and edging closer to where we lie, and with every inch that he moves I draw the little one in my arms closer to my power. Those filthy eyes of this Sam, grow wider with wonder and fright – oh, fright is revealed in all places now. It is always shared.
As a last strand of trial, I release my call to rest upon Frodo's ears, willing him to follow his inner desire. I hum softly but drone-like, my voice deep and formidable against the night and settling into the comfort of the temptation. I smile in slow form as his eyes flutter if nearing sleep, and a quiet sigh of lessening he makes.
"Sam…" he breathes, his dirtied supple lips sticky as they part. I hush him comfortingly, wiping the dirt from his neck. Such a delicate creature. So beautiful and pale, so lost from his mind. Unable to hold on for more than he believes to be true.
As I look upon his withered form, a sense of control floods my essence. I feel the advantage, the strength and management. He is like a broken animal, a beast not wanting to be tamed but the power has taken him and beaten him down. Knowing that in my heart I will regret it and my Master will rage, I lower my head and plant my lips on his clammy brow in a kiss. "Sweet Frodo," I muse.
My new touch gives him life…his own strength. With an alarmed cry he shouts out again, using the remainder of his will to fight against me as he struggles and thrashes wildly, sobs echoing into the night. "No!" he shouts, his voice breaking with tears bursting from his damaged eyes. "No – leave me! Sam! SAM!"
My anger is risen further as within that final call, Sam hurries to reach his pained friend, scraping the skin off his knees and palms as he lifts himself up to his feet and quickens to Frodo's side, the fretfulness written in his face. Now he is beside me too, and I can hear his heavy breaths.
To my disgust and sickening taste, he takes Frodo's hand from my own with surprising ease – he takes it from me! The unworthy fool! I am the one to comfort this hobbit – it is I! My stare is piercing as I glower horribly into his dirty eyes, knowing that if my looks could wound, his would be one so great he would be dead before the night was through.
He kisses it, and soothes it with his own motion. He shushes under his breath, speaking in assurance. "Sh, Mr. Frodo. S'all right," he says, his eyes showing sheer sympathy and his voice dipped with mellowing console. "Your Sam is here now, he's here to take care of you. And he will as well, he shall."
His voice rings like cutting knives on my ears.
"Sam…" Frodo gasps in relief, and shuts his eyes, his face tightening. Another whimper erupts and he quickly clutches blindly at his friend, the corners of his eyes tensing against his smooth skin and his face streaked with despair from the tears he sheds.
Sam frowns down in worry at his elder, his expression contorts in pain. I smile at his hurt, at his suffering. Poor naïve Samwise. Both of them know so little of this world. They will have much to learn from it in time.
"Master?" he asks, his voice trembling.
"Help me – help me, Sam…I can't stop It…" Frodo's words sound as if he were falling, falling. His hand shakes and another lone tear trickles. I feel his throat close in a choking intake and his bright eyes begin to roll.
I sit there and smile. Then I hum. I am calling him to my song.
Then the awaiting moment, for which I have desired for so long this night arrives. A pitying cry issues throughout the valley, echoes off the rocks and rings into the black of the late.
Frodo screams. He screams for it to stop. Then he grabs madly at Sam in his final shout, pulling him down to his side and tugging at his shirt collar as if it were a rope from the deaths, and his hope to be pulled up. I never stop now, I see what I am doing to him…wondrous this is, to see his worst denial without even lifting a finger.
"Frodo!" Now Sam looks on in horror, still with his hand in his grasp but refraining from being pulled to the filthy ground by his master's remaining strength. There is strain in his face. "Frodo - "
"Make It stop!" Frodo pleas, his voice racking with sobs.
"I don't understand, Mr. Frodo sir, but hold on - "
"I cannot!"
"Yes, you can – I know you can, you can do this - "
"It…never stops…"
They go on for a time, Sam all the while hoping to keep down the level of Frodo's shouts and orders. They are hidden, and my torture is sending the little one into a state of madness. I never halt my song, my call. Not once.
"Listen to It!" Frodo cries out suddenly, catching Sam's shirt in his nimble fingers. "Listen how It speaks! It never stops, Sam! Never!"
"Mr. Frodo - " Sam began, tears choking as he pulls back on his knees and attempts to pry his shirt out of his friend's clutches. "Frodo – let go, please…s'all right as I told, you just have to hang on now - "
"Can you not hear It!" he demands, his eyes almost spinning. "Listen!"
"Master, don't shout…someone could hear - "
"I can hear!" Frodo shoots back in triumph, his lips curling and his eyes dancing on the water. "I can hear It well! I hear It all the time! It wants to listen – listen to It, I say! Listen!"
"Frodo – something's wrong!" Sam cries, now his tears flow. He stares down at his friend in shocking disturbance, I can feel his heart crying. It is really crying. Crying with fear, and sadness, and dread.
"Nothing is wrong!" Frodo laughs.
"There is! You have to hold on!"
"I am!" Frodo sighs, his face slipping into a dream and his voice in a calming whisper. "The song…"
"Snap out of it!"
"Listen to It…"
"No!"
"It never stops…listen…"
"Frodo…" Sam weeps, his grip tightening on his hand and his voice meaningful to the mind and soul. His palms are grazed and dirt lies on his knees. He suddenly seems pitiful too. I sneer at the power I contain. "Frodo, listen to me…"
"I am listening…"
"Then hear me out."
"The song…"
"Not the song! Listen to me, your Sam! Listen to your Sam!"
Frodo grimaces, blinking slowly. His expression darkens into a frown and concentration lies upon his face. It seems to freeze, as if a sense of knowing has suddenly dawned among the voice within. "Sam…"
I look towards Sam in rage, and see an elated grin. It almost seems as if he could weep for joy upon hearing a sane answer. I could have taken Frodo in, if it were not for his meddling. My anger courses through my veins like fire.
"Yes, Frodo me dear!" Sam sighs. "Your Sam. He's right here."
"Oh, Sam…" Frodo breathes, his throat racking in apology. He breaks away from my drone and turns his attention towards his friend. His lip and the lump in his throat both quiver as he fights back tears. "Where was I?"
"Somewhere bad, Mr. Frodo. But not anymore."
Frodo gasps out in surprise at the tears on his friend's face. He looks down at their hands entwined and freezes in terror. "What have I said?" he murmurs, feeling his mind wander. "What did I do? O, I cannot remember. Sam…" he glances up into the muddy eyes…and I feel his comfort from them, as I scorn.
"I tried," he sobs, his fading tears falling.
They fall into an embrace, soothing and warm. I look on them both with malice glinting in my eyes, my grip has now been tarnished from Frodo and torn a blunder by this Sam. For as he took up his friend in his words he pried the feeble body from my clutches and into his own arms.
I hear a hiss not far from above me. I turn behind to see a familiar face. An old friend. My dear Sméagol. So he is still with them. I had not known he would still become to me, still think of my presence. But for now I feel a sense of faith in him.
He is loyal to me, unlike some many. Maybe this night is not yet over as it may seem. Maybe there could still be that moment when the time would be ours. Sméagol, Frodo and I. We could all share it…they would be powerful too.
"As long as your Sam is here, he won't let nothing happen." I hear these words from my distance now as I turn back, from the hateful one I anger. His words show protection, as if he were looking after a lost child. And as I watch, his friend seems in appearance as one, lying cold and afraid in his carrier's arms.
Though he smiles contentedly, and holds him close.
I sneer again in spite. Then I turn back, my eyes close on Sméagol, prowling the tops of the rocks and whispering quietly. I smile at him. The only one who may as well listen to me now, the only one. There may still be a chance, for my Master and myself.
My sight falls upon the view ahead, distant and cold. I feel warm again, as if I have made no mistakes. Then I breathe, and slowly turn my back on the Shadow Mountain.
To be continued
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(A/N: Believe it or not, there is still more to come. Please tell me what you think!)