Struggle
(A/N: I'm sorry about the delays on this story! I've been so busy lately, what with the management of a New Year and everything. I'm trying to fit everything in, and I hope this chapter makes up for it. I will finish it soon, in all good time. smile Thanks to everyone who reviewed!)
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Three days and three nights have passed since the encounter I held with Sméagol. As the mist has billowed and the hours have grown overtime I now watch from a safe distance, keeping all of my will evermore tugging at weak Frodo's heart, and as with every step he trundles I whisper longingly into his ear.
"Where are you going…Frodo-love…? Where are you taking me…?"
Never he answers, never does he bide to the call. Only in the darkest hours of his slumber does he tend to subside the more, and that is when my power works its greatest. Yet he continues, not a voice to his pain but to provide him with further strength, as I have seen into his heart and found a love that sickens me.
A love for his friend, that impotent 'Sam' that follows him in his shadow. Thrice I have tried since this journey to turn his head to reasons, which would prove more important, but all have failed because of the trust that lingers. How I wish Frodo would listen…listen to me. But as long as Sam is around, it cannot be seen that he ever will.
The darkness has fallen once more this night, and I have seen strange, twisted strain in the depths of the hobbit's eyes. Fear lingers within, and I hold a strange feeling that this night may not prove unworthy to me at all. The cold tense of the presence somewhat enlightens me, and holds me close.
Now I follow behind, every now and again furthering Sméagol onwards with varied pushes and hints of wary, as he leads both little ones into the cruel, harsh land. He still keeps to remember the previous night, and as I see, is far more cautious than usual.
My smile stays, and as in doing so I crouch to speak to my dear friend, noticing how he flinches and backs away at my approach, a soft hissing escaping between his few teeth. "You have understood…" I say softly. "You do listen…"
He does not respond but instead hands an obedient nod, though he hides this from the ones behind. He lowers his eyes to the ground and proceeds further, his knuckles grazing against the rocks but receiving no reaction to the pain. Trudging he goes on, every once in a while raising his voice to command his usual beckoning.
"Come, come along, hobbitses! Not far now, the stairses are very near!"
The stairs? Ah, so that is where he is leading them. Very crafty and clever indeed, an innocent mind but yet betraying with extreme force. I feel gladdened, for now I certainly know in my soul that Sméagol is set forth to obey me, but has not mentioned it so. You have a tricky mind, my friend.
I cast him a pleasing sneer as I draw backwards to the 'companions' behind. He seems uneasy in my presence now, his eyes darting to all sides and inspecting the closest corners, his breath lost in his throat and his expression narrowed in some form of guilt, though this doesn't last long. He has always been overcome by greed.
I slip nearer to the hobbits, Frodo hunched and his back bent quite low, his loyal Sam supporting the shoulder of his arm as they walk slowly but surely, after Sméagol. Somewhere inside of me an angered flame burns bright, as I hoped by now that Frodo would be ready to cast all of his effort aside, and turn back so as not to bring me to this doom I may encounter.
"Please…please, sweet Frodo…you would not want to destroy me…"
I hear his mournful panting in my head now, a rush of fervent breaths as his attempts grow demanding. It appears that he has not rested his weary head in a while, his eyes are constantly sliding down to meet his flushed cheeks. How he struggles, so much for such a small creature.
His Sam is beside him, hushing and whispering endearments in his ear; so quiet that even I cannot strain hard enough to hear them. His face is planted with concern, his eyes slanted and carefully watching out for harm, shooting troubled glances at their guide as he plods along, his hair rustling in the calm breeze.
I move to stand at Frodo's other side, my lips close and lying intact of his ear. With an intake of furious breath I let loose a tiny hum, causing a panic to rise within his chest and for his heart to leap, taking his voice with it as he lets out a startled cry. I smile in content as he clutches tighter onto Sam, no words said but frightened the same.
He whimpers as my hand travels over his dirty but yet ashen cheek, and soothes for his quietness, as he moans in the back of his throat and shuts his eyes to block out the sound, and catches a gasp.
"Invade the rights…" I tell him softly. "Turn back to your home…your life…"
As I speak, my fingers stroke past under his chin and tickle his neck, coming abound reach of my keep and hold. So I see his hands held together tightly by Samwise, and his resistance down in place, and I know have the advantage of warning that I have been longing for, at least for this break of morning.
Grasping the silver chain that holds my confound about his neck, I softly give on it a sudden tug, not brutal but still rough in force, noticing the swift lines already forming from my action, cutting and burning. "Turn back, I say," I command again, a little louder this time as my voice echoes, as one does in the midst of a hollow cave.
Frodo lets loose a hiss through grit teeth, and pinches his eyes tightly shut as he hopes and wants to block out my call. I hold back a laugh of mightiness, and drag the gold a little further, increasing the weight. Frodo's head rather falls, as if indeed to the mortal eye an invisible load had suddenly been attached.
"Oh!" he cries out, blatantly, his eyes rolling back into his head from exhaustion and his feet struggling to find a hold. Sam, in stunned surprise, lets out an exclamation and feels himself being brought down, Frodo's arm slipping out of his clutches, sending the hobbit to his knees on the rocks, his breath heaving.
I glint at him maliciously, my own smile forming across my face from wickedness, as I lay eyes open the scene that emerged from my cause of action.
"Frodo!" Sam's words leave his mouth in a blind hurry of a breath, as he drops to his knees beside his master and places one of his own arms around his shoulders, holding his head close to his chest as he stares down, fright and concern revealed in his heart. Frodo's breathing deepens as he swallows back with endeavour, and a trickle of perspiration spills down his brow, his eyes always shut.
"Too heavy, Sam…" he breathes. "Must rest…"
"We can't," Sam sighs back. "Not out here, in this place. It's not safe enough."
"Sam…" Frodo almost sounds pleading as he holds on tighter to his friend's shirt, his curls immediately being buried below his servant's chin. He is panting now, and his voice is reaching to that level once more, of desperation or something maybe milder. I uncover another sly scorn as I see how close he is to sleep. Then, and only then, may I come to him and give him my full attention that I desire.
"Please, Sam…" Frodo begs again. "Just for a few minutes." The tone in his voice sounds weary, as if he is in need of dire strength. He closes his sweet, sweet crystal eyes and settles into the comfort of Sam's shoulder, his breath gaining as he struggles to encourage some of his energy.
I see Sam sigh, he appears so defeated as the love and anxiety wells deep in his eyes. He snaps his head rapidly at the sound of a nearby voice, and if I look upon them correctly, draws his master closer to him with an uncanny scowl.
"Master! Hobbitses, keep up! No time to rest, no time!"
"Mr. Frodo's tired, he says!" Sam shouts back indignantly. "All he wants is just a moment's peace, good for all of us, I reckon. Not for long, so don't look so horrified, Gollum, then I think we'll all be on good terms." He motions with his hand to the terrified creature, and signals him to come away from such a large distance.
Sam acts quickly, staring down at his beloved friend and inching away into one mighty crack of a nearby chasm, sheltering them from the harsh wind and cold, and the rain as dirty as poison. Now I see that Gollum is with them, his eyes dangerously alight at the thought of detaining his route.
He sits in beside them, pondering and staring sullenly at Frodo, and it seems as if a strange, far-off glance comes into his face. O, so many mind options could be playing among him now, what that he would succeed in doing, and if his own time would be quickly shattered by all this delay. He backs off away, and settles into his own corner, his sight always on the two, watching.
Sam gazes down at Frodo with a troubled smile, and gently passes his hand over the dark curls, as if some parent to their infant. The action has no effect on his master, he still persists to slumber into deep sleep, but the look upon his face is that of one to smile at, behind the ash and dust and dirt gathered on his skin, there lurks a fair beauty of wonder.
Time passes for a while, I do not know how long. Every so often Gollum would turn and face Sam with a questioning gleam, and every time Sam would glance upon his master and shake his head tiresomely. It was as if they were holding a silent spoken talk of action, as if choosing to move on or rest longer. I note that within Sam's heart, he does not wish to wake Frodo, as for the first time he sees peace in his expression. His thoughts often speak too, clearly but yet saddened by an inner guilt.
Oh, Frodo, I'm sorry for all this…if I could help you further I would…
And still, Gollum continues to back into his corner, rocking here and there and making strange sounds in his throat, whistling and hissing through his teeth and groaning impatiently. "Has Master rested yet, precious?" he asks, catching his glance hopefully on Sam and the sleeping Frodo.
Staring down at the angelic face, so soft and undisturbed, so comfortable, Sam cannot do anything but refuse. "No – no," he says quietly, a frown of slight patience playing upon his face. "Not yet. Let him sleep a bit longer."
"No time, no time!" Gollum snarls back again, becoming intolerant with the wait. He removes himself from the corner and crawls towards them, his eyes ever watching the skies and the fearful weather that the darkening clouds bring. Out of sheer annoyance, he reaches out for Frodo's knee, ready to shake and rouse him from slumber.
Sam smacks his hand away before he can even come close, and with a furious glare, stares back at him with disgust. "You leave him alone, filth!" he snaps. "He hasn't done resting, you've got no right to wake him! I said it wouldn't be long, and it hasn't, not really…so let him alone a while, he'll be ready when he's ready, I says." The look in his eyes was so serious, so sure against his words that it was enough to halt Gollum's actions.
"Unkind hobbit," he spits out. "You are not like Master, no, not at all."
I sit here, and watch them carefully. I detect a strong flow of hatred that burns within both hearts as they frown down at one another, and the sickening way that they speak to one another in their minds, there is clearly a powerful detest lingering somewhere, somewhere deep and dark.
Clicking his tongue and breaking his contact with Gollum, Sam stares down once at Frodo, and again that soft smile returns as he notes upon the heavenly expression. I see his dark eyes widen in horror or fright suddenly, and a small cry emits from his throat. He moves aside his master's collar, and sees brutal markings quite burned into the flesh from the weight of my keep. He holds out a finger as if to touch and soothe them, but stops at the final moment.
The tears threaten almost immediately. "Oh, Mr. Frodo sir!" he sobs out, not quite understanding that he has spoken his words aloud. "Oh, Frodo me dear, what has happened to you? This is something I haven't seen, or even heard word of!" This seems too much for him to bear. Still weeping tragically in his chest, he holds on tighter to Frodo, calming him and hoping to block out the volume in his cries.
"What, what?" Gollum interrupts. "Why does nasty hobbit cry?"
Sam ruefully sat up and rubbed at his eyes, a vicious but sorrowful aspect shadowing his face. For the first time I have seen his true tears when Frodo is not awake, and I feel his heat giving off onto my confound, urgently sending off alarming signals.
"He's hurt!" Sam weeps. "It's all for what that Ring's done to him!"
I sense a strange notion of anger filling me, burning me within my own presence. Because of I? I have only done to help my poor Frodo, to bring him to this state of mind and body. To leave a few scratches behind is none the worse, but I have always intended to assist. Samwise is blaming me, when I have only done good! Good!
I release a furious bellow almighty, striking Frodo with a cruel, hard burn in his sleep and for him to stir unsettled. How should I be taken with this treachery, when I have only promised to do what I believe is right, when my own life force is being snatched away inch by inch, and I can only stand by to watch…and persuade! Even so, sacrifices are in order, but they are all out of my own advantage and well-being!
Don't you see, foolish Samwise? I am so close now that I was before, though I struggle to stay aloft! I am only days yet until my death! And it is all because of you, you! That I am tied to my fate! Let me live, Samwise! Let me belong!
Gollum frowns long and hard. "Can't blame precious, oh no, you can't!"
I glance to and fro from Gollum, to Sam and then to Frodo. I call out to him, urgent and pleading, commanding and furious. I will not lead these events go so misshapen out of hand, I will win through in this pit of events, and it will happen and come alive this instant! My voice is strong and powerful, and reaches Frodo's ears.
"Arise Frodo, awaken and hear me…your precious! I am slipping from you, tumbling away into darkness, arise so that you may hold me again, and not lose! Behold! A true treason is happening as you rest, your dear Sam is robbing you of me! Rise Frodo-love, I beseech you take me back! Understand this, and rescue me!"
Frodo bolts again awake, such as before, his light eyes alive and reproachable as he glances about. His lips are dry and sticky as such, and in his veins I sense a strange bubble of motion making cause of his blood. The heat is alive in his expression, and his mind still consumed by my voice, that he appears as if living a dream. He stumbles to rise and stares around, my call echoing on and on again.
"Yes, Frodo…you know I am here still…"
"Frodo!" Sam gasps, noticing him up and out of sleep. His face crumbles as he looks upon his master, his eyes spinning once more and a frightening notion to see. He seems ready to collapse, staring upwards and into the sky, his dark hair foreboding the shadow of his forehead.
"Yes…Frodo…yes…"
"Listen to It…" he rasps, his voice stiff and solid.
Gollum adds a sudden wicked smile and moves away slowly, his eyes absorbed on Frodo's state and a triumphant glint on Sam's shocked appearance. His cackle is found amidst on the thick air, mingled together as that of my own, as the sound rumbles and rocks into the night and darkens the mountains beyond.
"Yes…Frodo…listen to me…"
His hand slowly travels down his chest, his eyes following their path as he lays eyes upon the gold, a strange twitchiness in his aghast face as he sees I am still supporting his neck. I smile from my spot, watching and waiting for one of his beautiful reactions to my power, that sends a wave of heat into his body and mind.
"Still here…" he murmurs.
"Frodo!" Sam says again, surprised and terrified by the look on his face. "Mr. Frodo! What is it? What's happened to you?"
At the sound of his name being spoken, Frodo looks up and his eyes burn into his servant's, a sudden confusion and yet, hidden malice as they cloud over and burn brightly into the darkness. There is an action as he backs off, shaking his head slowly from dizziness and unbelievably, his fingers clenched in pain.
"What I have spoken is true…he was that close, Frodo…"
He glances up, his head straightened, and all the while the constant sound of Gollum laughing to himself inside the cave, and being held about by Samwise's fearful gaze. Frodo's lip curls a little and his actions become swift. "You…"
Sam staggers back. "What?"
"You…came so close," Frodo snarls, straightening up tall and firm, and his eyes dancing about such as lights on the water. Though these words do not come from his own mind, I pour my speech into his head to speak what I wish, to abandon these incessant thoughts that curse his will. "You shall not again, do not come closer...I warn you, stay back." As he spoke I whispered on and on into his ear, commanding him, telling him what to say.
Poor, innocent Frodo. As if he would dare to speak his mind this way. In his heart he remains merely but a struggle, as if he could not even begin to believe the taunts of cruelty and the hands of cold stone. He shall see, by the time this is through, that his hands provide more strength than he believes them to be.
Tears of confusion spring to Sam's eyes as he frowns. "Mr. Frodo…I'm not out to hurt you. Please…please listen, tell me what's wrong!"
"Nothing…is wrong!" Frodo says, repeating earlier events of the previous nights. In his mind I am demanding him to say these things, but of course Samwise does not understand this. The advantage has returned to me in these final hours, as I had a suspicion that it would in time.
I gather up the quivering hobbit in my arms, squeezing the delicate chest and whispering sweet things into his ear. He lets out a strained grunt, finding no power to force me away, as I am offering his words and creating this force. He shall see that only I accept my own fates, and it does not fall into the hands of others.
"Frodo," Sam sobs, his tears blinding him. "What are you saying?"
"Oh, with his questions! Push him, drive him away! Fight!"
It happens in a sudden burst of energy and anger. I scream at his insubordinate behaviour and his pleading words, and those ugly mud pools that are constantly staring back and forth at unwary foes, that Frodo hears it, and screams himself from the sound. He pinches his eyes closed again, and reaches out blindly for means of escape. He stumbles, catching his shaking foot on a lone rock and falls unsteadily forwards, letting out a moan of under balance, and crashing into Sam. There is a sickening crack, and a sharp cry of utter pain.
Gollum's eyes suddenly come alive with a new face. "Master!" Sméagol wails.
I stare towards the ground, where Frodo lies, breathing found difficult. His curls, now suddenly damp with sweat, lift up the weary head and cast his starlit eyes into the blackness of the happening. Sméagol makes a move for him, but stops at my warning glare, and shrinks back into the shadows like a disobedient animal.
Frodo places one hand over his eyes, turning away the shakiness of his lower body. When they are uncovered, they move to a corner of the rock crevice, stare still, and then widen in sheer alarm. "Sam!" he screams sadly, a fright placing his features as he looks beyond and sees a sinister happening, the crystal windows instantly intimidating tears as they freeze in pure trepidation.
All I can do, is smile in my own satisfaction.
Sam lies there, still and unmoving, crumpled into a tense position against the rock, his eyes closed and unwavering. His fist is clenched into a marvel clutch, and his wrists scraped from the surface of the gravel. His head is tilted back, hit hard from the impact of the push, lying there on the surface of a mighty pointed boulder.
And he is bleeding.
To be continued
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(A/N: Another cliffhanger to make up for lost time: evil smile : What will happen next, I wonder? I'm sorry to keep this at such a long wait! Oh, now I hate myself for what I'm doing to Sam! I'm relentless! Lol, please R&R!)