Shelob
(A/N: I'm so, so sorry about the late chapter! Here be a nice long one for the wait!)
:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:
The nights are longer now, bringing a darkness greater than that which exists in the day. The air has dropped to a chill, freezing bones and stifling eyes. It is a new morn of a third day since the recovery of Frodo's feeble servant, and now they return on their journey, threatened but not smite.
Frodo at his own pace, Sam close behind.
How it angers me to see them still so set! Sam should have perished from the fall, and all would have been lost. I would reside in the comfort of my Master again, and all of the lands of this earth would be ours, The Black Kingdom, and we will reign all.
Foolhardy hobbits! The end is so near and so bitter and they choose not to taste it! For all of the power and rage I hold I rely on the counters of my dear, good friend.
Sméagol walks under my frown. I kick him, roughly.
"Do not fail me," I say, scowling. "For your sake."
Sméagol says nothing, but looks towards the ground with a hiss and trembles. He turns his head behind at Frodo, beckoning him onward and quick. "Come Master, come!" he says softly. "We are close now!"
I turn back to Frodo, watching his effort. A frown plays across my face.
"I am fine, Sam," I hear him plead. "You should not strain so much. Rest is...important to you, now. After what I did to you - " He stumbles, caught in Sam's open arms. His knees shake from the weight and he holds onto his friend's shirt. Sam holds him close and with a gentle whisper that does not reach me.
Yes, Frodo. After what you did. Just rest that in your weak mind and you will always bear the hardy weight of guilt, as you also carry me.
"How far to go, my friend?" I ask Sméagol, who has his eyes deeply fixed on Frodo. His eyes travel to me, and stop still.
"The stairses, lie here, they do. Around this corner, precious," he says, pointing.
I smile slowly, the edges of my lips curling into a sneer. "Excellent."
The stairs will weaken their strengths and hearts. No nimble wit nor quickened pace are match for their steady length. A picture plays in my mind of my Frodo, his hands grasping tight to the stairs as he pulls himself upon them. His eyes droop, his neck stinging from my burns and his wrists chafed and bleeding from the cruel harshness of the stone. His throat dry, his shirt lifting away from his stained skin, his hair blowing.
"Tell our weary travellers to quicken the pace," I tell him. "We do not have much time." A distant wind billows, sending the hair on my head to course behind me. My eyes flash as they rest on Frodo, glowing brightly.
Sméagol does what I say. "Hobbits! Hobbitses!" he cries. "Make haste! We have reached the stairses! Lots of steps, there are!"
Frodo and Sam gradually meet him before the Stairs of Cirith Ungol, desolate and dirty, and stop for breath. I laugh inside at the horror that must run through them at the sight of the tall, uneven steps. The stairs travel onwards for a while, I know this. The demand is mighty for their tiny bodies, and they will struggle and shake upon their grand steadiness.
Sam looks high above, his dark eyes wide. "We climb up there?"
"Yes, yes, up, up!" Sméagol says impatiently. "All the way up! Long way to go!"
The light one still looks doubtful, now that he sees how far it is. There is still a dark brown stain in his hair from his fall, not more than three days after all since it happened. He will still carry on though, denying his pain. I see it through him.
"Well," he says, "it doesn't look so bad, Mr. Frodo. At least there's some good for that wall on either side. That's a comfort." With a wary glance behind him, he takes hold of his master's hand and guides him to the base of the stairs.
Frodo's balance topples at the sight before him. He moans, but holds a brave face.
"We must keep moving," he whispers.
That, Frodo...is exactly my plan. You fall deeper into a trap, and my clutches with every step you take. Not long now.
:--:
"Gollum!"
The creature darts away, his hand inches from Frodo's knee.
What is he doing? The sneak! How dare he take advantage like this...
But before I have a chance to scold him, Sam is awake like a shot and doing the task. That is when I notice Frodo's head in Sam's lap. The darkness must have caused me not to notice before...
I snarl at Gollum, retreating back into the shadows. He thinks he is helping but he is only making it worse. He is bringing them closer together, tightening the bond.
"Sneak..." I hear Sam's words echo through the night, speaking to that miserable, good for nothing beast. I believe it is the first moment that I have ever even thought...especially considered agreeing with him.
:--:
The strain begins to show in the faces as the stairs grow steep. As narrow as they are crooked, footholds become a problem. Only Sméagol is nimble and swift, scrambling up the side as if it were a level terrain.
Often it appears as though the hobbits will fall, but they hold strong.
I hear Frodo's heartbeat in my head.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Of course he is struggling, with such a weight as I! He is proving to be masterful and strong, despite the effort. I find myself surprised again.
I glide to his fingers, watching them shake and tremble. How feeble, yet how inviting. I wonder...how fast and far would a hobbit fall if he were to let go?
I wonder...
I take his forefinger of his right hand deep in my grasp.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
I lift it up carefully, feeling a strange tremor shiver through his body. He grabs on tighter, his feet scraping the rock for a steadier hold. I almost hear him cry out.
A twinkle in the sky. I ignore it, staring upon his fevered brow.
"And then the little hobbit when a-tumbling down..."
I sing to him. He hears me.
Thump-a-thump. Thumpitty thump.
He fights my hand away, almost slipping down the side. "No - " he chokes.
Sam looks upward, sweat on his face. "Careful, Mr. Frodo!" he calls out to him. "It'll be all right, we're almost there now, with hope. Hold on..."
"I'm fine," Frodo says, giving me an exhausted, yet poisonous look.
:--:
When the pinnacle of the stairs comes into view, I smile at the weariness I see before me. The woven lines below their eyes are deep. The lack of rest they have had is bearing them down, and I see that for Frodo, his eyelids command sleep. I imagine the nights – the many nights that lay before us – oh, Frodo!
"First stair has passed," Gollum hisses to them. "Next comes the winding stair. Straight stair has passed. Hobbits are doing very well, yes, precious says."
I struggle to keep a straight face. The looks of horror and oppression amuse me. The idea of a second stair...perhaps longer...
Frodo topples, sitting down on the floor, panting. "Oh..."
"What after that, Gollum?" Sam asks crossly.
"We shall see," Gollum replies, his eyes alight in the dark. "Oh, yes, we shall see."
I give him a sly grin, the boundaries of my gratitude overwhelming even myself. What a loyal servant Gollum is! How different from Sméagol...slow-minded, cowardly, weak – foolish Sméagol. He spills out no hint toward our achievement, yet I see his cunning behind his words.
My eyes dart to Frodo, tending his fingers after the brutal climb. A singular drop of blood spills down past his neck. The chain is cutting deeper. Deeper into his skin...
A few strands of dirt lift into the air as my toes barely touch the floor. I fly swiftly but silently behind Frodo, so close I can hear him breathing. I feel him sending me away with his mind, clutching the gold tightly to his chest.
"Don't touch me, wretched Thing..."
"I shall do what I like..."
And like it, I do.
Slowly the flesh of my fingertips falls to the soft skin upon his neck. I move them in steady, small circles, the base of his curls tickling against my palm. A strand of my own hair is reached by the wind and curls below his throat. His muscles tense under my touch, the smell of ash, dust and poignant leather hanging in my nostrils.
He wafts me away. "Stop - "
Husssh
My lips are lowered. They trace velvet skin, and then they meet in a tender kiss just below the top of the spine. My senses detect the smell of blood, trickling down his neck. I can see it spill past his collarbone, dark and warm, and as my fingers begin their action again, my bitter tongue laps it up. Frodo shivers.
"You taste warm," I tell him, my words dancing off his ear in a whisper.
My hands continue their journey, trailing down his shirt to where it hangs out of his breeches, and my fingernails gently finding, and fondling the hidden flesh. A sigh escapes out of Frodo's chest, a beseeching sigh.
"Supple..." I murmur, the smoothness of his hide like glass. "You are well endowed, Frodo-love. As fair as the Ghâsh-hai…" ("Fire-folk...") Here I pause, my fingers grasping the base of his shirt, travelling to feel his broad hips above his legs, and a softer patch of skin...
"I wonder if the whole of you is as fair as I deem..."
"Sam," Frodo interrupts, sitting up tall and letting my hands brush away. "I am rested now. Perhaps we should...make another start."
I sneer at the tremor in his voice. He is already falling.
:--:
The blackness grows near. Slowly, steadily...choking...
An entrance to such a lair holds the filth and stink of approaching death. Festering flesh and tooth hang in the air. The stony feel almost makes me feel comfortable.
"Lead them here," I tell him, entering the cave for myself. I feel bitter and cold in the dampness of the walls, and the stench becomes fouler. I realise that when these moments come it is Sméagol I see great faith in, and wait impatiently for the marvellous moment to arrive...when Samwise is taken deep into death and despair.
"You will not harm a hair on my Frodo, will you love?" I remember asking.
"No, no, Sméagol will not."
"Are you sure this is the only way?" I hear Frodo question Gollum from behind.
I do not hear his reply, only the fainted heartbeats of the hobbits as they draw in closer to the darkness. A smile forms across my lips as with every step they take, another breath is taken...another drop of sweat forms. The smell is so intensifying; I feel their poor lungs finding it laborious to breathe.
It is a long way, through the tunnel. Many twists and turns but always in one direction. The sun is banished in this world, and darkness is the ruler. Frodo and Sam hang back, pinching together their noses and clutching tight to the wall, holding back their breath to keep some of the beautiful clean air they have left.
At one bend, Sam topples from the smell, reeling. He falls! I cry, grasping for the glory...
"Up! I won't lose you. All the stench and peril comes from here, now for it!"
Frodo...
He pulls Sam up, back onto his feet. I would feel greater anger if I had not known that his doom was vastly approaching him. Scowling, I turn my head onto the view, a cause of rage blocking the way.
:--:
Long moments which seem such as hours pass. The constant steps of the hobbits behind me are a longing pleasure. Soon it will only be one pair of pattering feet.
Frodo...your sweat is still so sweet on my lips. At last I shall taste you...
Wham! Gollum is off like a shot, colliding into me with little force but still enough for me to suspect. I growl, following after the scurrying creature and attempt to tackle him.
"What is this?" I cry. "Stop you bumbling coward!"
"Sméagol is showing the way to go," he replies.
"They are much distance behind...do you not want them to track you? They will be lost here in these shadows and murk of death! Think of it!"
There is a silence. Only the slow gurgling gasp of Gollum echoes throughout the cave, and the lonely and frightened cry of; "Sméagol! Wait!"
"You...promised that you would not leave my Frodo to death and darkness," I say, frowning so deep that my eyes are lost. "You said that you would not harm a hair on his head – why leave him behind for Samwise's fate! He is dear to me, and precious – yes, I forbid you to abandon him! We had a deal!"
"Sméagol said those things," he sneers cruelly. "He did, he did. But Sméagol is no longer here, precious. Sméagol is gone for good. Gone and it is good!" He spits on the ground below my feet.
This is an outrage!
Coward...liar...betrayer...
"GET OUT!" I cry, swinging for a blow at him, but unhappily miss. Gollum scampers over the crevice of the cave and sinks into a hole below the roof, cackling a dry laugh as he leaves. The steady drip drip stays with me.
I feel my eyes burning beneath my hair and I want to rip it out. I want to scream...I want to sob; I want to throw a rock at that creature's head. Never have I felt such anger! To leave Frodo to the jaws of that beast, chomping and feasting on his delicate form, draining his life blood from his veins...
No, no, no!
Frodo...pale and lifeless in a hole, decayed and forgotten...
No, no, no!
Never again to whisper those words...
NO!
My precious...
"GOLLUM!" I scream madly, a radiating energy of rage blistering all manners around me, so terrible that it is almost eating away at the rock. "WE HAD A DEAL!"
I sigh, a growl coursing along my throat. What will become of Frodo now? Will he turn back? Lost and forgotten, all alone. It may be a chance. Will they take a different route, back to the cities? I cannot let Samwise take Frodo away from me. This is our time, ours! He should be left for dead!
I retreat back, my feet barely touching the ground as my urgent behaviour somehow lifts me up. I tear through cobwebs too mighty for many to cut, and all of the blackness seems to rip past me as I make my way back to my dear Frodo.
"Frodo...Frodo-love!" I call out, and wait to hear his voice. His breathing is quite strong now, and I know that he is somewhere close. I listen to his heartbeat, and his blood pulses so quickly I feel as if it is excited. But this is fear.
Gollum, the filthy fool! To bring this beautiful hobbit to such fear!
Then I hear his whispers, soft and quiet in another one's ears but louder than an echo in mine. "The glass...the glass...save me, Lady..."
I will save you, Frodo – come to me!
"Aiya Eärendil Elenion Ancalima!" comes a cry, which holds me still in my path. The words sting me, cut through my skin with a piercing pain, and catch me still of breath. I hold, squirming in agony at the sound, and turn my eyes to the direction of Frodo's voice.
He speaks poison...what has he done?
I go blind. A light so great and terrible boars through the caverns and hits off all the walls. It hurts so unbearably I find myself falling to the ground, and I land ruggedly on my knees with a palm over my face.
"NOOOOO!"
My eyes! Oh, they hurt me! I am blind!
The pain hits my head, such a strong power that I tremble, and yet the light continues to linger on. I pick myself up and bolt back on the path that leads towards Gollum, struggling to outrun from the weapon of light.
Frodo commanded it...my Frodo, who would never harm his precious!
I bolt away, and I run for anything before me, a dark hole from which to hide away. My eyes still sting and I cover them.
Frodo...Frodo...how could you do this? Carry something so evil and speak such things? He is turning away from the darkness, slipping into light! O Master, how would he betray me? Betray us?
Then a hissing comes, a low hiss. I use my hearing to listen as my eyes are still worthless to me.
Ah, oh behold!
It is Shelob, a monstrous beast. She has lived here for so long a time yet she is still secret to many. Her illustrious figure appears to me as beauty herself, as in which I am proud. She holds power, but not the ultimate power. But she is natural, and that is what makes her so fearsome.
My eyes widen as she slowly creeps past me, unseen to my sight. How magnificent she is! Awe takes me before I remember Frodo. He is lost and alone back there. Gollum is off wandering, and Sam is fallen behind.
Though it is her duty and under agreement with that wallowing coward to destroy a hobbit, I will not let anyone but Samwise be killed. No matter what has happened, I will offer Frodo a chance to live. He still has to do so much more.
I move in darkness now. The gleam of that light is so terrible my eyes feel as if they are being borne to prone energy and fire, slicing them deep. They remain shut, as I allow only my instincts for the twists and turns of the cave.
I become frantic, hearing screams and shouts and urgent panting in my ears. If that monster takes hold of Frodo...
I need him! I need him! My very life, my own existence lies in his hands!
I become lost in the dark, calling and calling, all alone.
"Frodo! Where are you? ANSWER ME!"
Drip drip drip.
Then I feel it. Like a crushing horde of terrible breath a silence overtakes me, and I know something has happened. Why would he retreat without responding? The last words I heard speak from him were those of elven culture. I knew it...a curse of some sort! A curse to put him to death!
A screeching sound from the right. I follow it, it being the only noise I have picked up for a while. Oh, you have gone this way?
I can smell his blood...feel his sweat upon the floor. His path leads me to a tight opening in the cave and I squeeze through. A giant cavern awaits me...laden with the comfort and safety of one in peril. I sense his heartbeat here...quickening, quickening...stopping...
All goes silent. His heart! No sound I can hear! What has become of him?
"Frodo!" I command. "Speak!"
It is a faint hope, but I must try...must keep trying...trying...
I glide now; the light vanished a while back, placing me in deeper dismay. I drift on, unaware of what I am expecting, anger burning through me for Gollum and Sam.
Their mistakes may have cost Frodo his life...
Then I peer through yonder, and notice a still figure, covered from shoulder to foot in thick spinet web – a prey undoubtedly captured by Shelob the Great – and one of her long, clawed legs dragging it aside. Every muscle in me tenses, my breath catching still and my hair billowing sadly around my face.
Frodo...he is dead.
: To be continued :
:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:
(A/N: Ah, I know you hate me for keeping you waiting but reviews are most appreciative: is pelted with rotten vegetables :)