Disclaimer: I don't own Lord of the Rings. Rather obvious.

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Kaewi: Yay, my first review! does dance I'm a fan of Frodo angst myself, but Sam angst can be very interesting too (as I'm learning in this story), there will be plenty angsty-Frodo-stuff coming in the following chapters, though. blushes Oops, you're right, I messed that line up a bit, but it's fixed now, so thanks for pointing that out! bows

Lasrai: Thanks! Here is more for you to read!

Iorhael: Thank you for your review! I wouldn't say my work is brilliant but it is improving, that's a definite! I hope you enjoy the rest!

Amrunofthesummercountry: o.0 big gasp YOU! I've read most of your stories – they're awesome! Thanks for reviewing, those orcs are gonna get pretty nastier in chapters to come, I hope you'll read more! Hehehe, I have a talent for writing evil folk? evil smile Perhaps cos I'm evil myself, mwaahaha...Lol. If you're a Sam fan then you may like this chapter, I hope. Enjoy!

Chickloveslotr: Yes, it is rather sad, but I'm glad you like it! hugs

Space Case: Thanks for your review! Ok, you twisted my arm, here's another chapter.

Llang: Thank you!

PhoenixRaider: Thank you for your kind review! You should read more LotR fanfics, you know, there are some really good ones!

bitch, rape ain't a plot: My, you have a bizarre name. Ok, I get the point, you didn't like the story, but please don't insult me. My story is nothing like the one that you described. There is a different kind of "sick", and mine is not the one that you are describing. You are describing toilet humour, not an act. I accept flames, but usually only those with constructive criticism. Otherwise, you're just wasting your time.

British Child: Thank you very much for your review! I like to experiment with more of Frodo's tortured side, because of the way that I come across sometimes...I like to place my feelings into some of the characters I write. Perhaps that is why you say I write it well, yes? chuckles Just a guess. hugs

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Bleeding Scars

Chapter Two: Cracking

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"In western lands beneath the Sun

The flowers may rise in Spring,
The trees may bud, the waters run,

The merry finches sing.

Or there maybe 'tis cloudless night
And swaying beeches bear
The Elven-stars as jewels white
Amid their branching hair.

Though here at journey's end I lie
In darkness buried deep,
Beyond all towers strong and high,
Beyond all mountains steep,

Above all shadows rides the Sun
And Stars forever dwell,"

Frodo flickered his eyes open at the sound of the soft melody that reached his ears, hearing Sam's voice drift gently over to him, seeming to sooth without touching. Frodo's tired eyes stared upwards and smiled at the gardener.

Sam readied himself to complete the song, but as he did, he heard a small, quiet voice join him – slightly exhausted but with a beautiful ringing of silver bells hanging in the cords:

"I will not say the Day is done,
Nor bid the Stars farewell."

Soft, brown rays of sunlight gazed down at the pale one lying in their arms, forcing a weak smile and looking magnificent, even in the darkest of times and with hardly any strength left. It was like the first patch of snow that always looked beautiful, no matter how many had walked upon it.

"Frodo," Sam whispered, cradling his master in his arms and gently kissing his forehead. "You're awake."

Frodo stretched feebly in the protecting arms, yawning a little, as if Sam had just awoken him from a deep slumber on a Midsummer's Day, ready to greet the morn and the sun.

There is no sun here.

"Singing," Frodo murmured sleepily, staring deep into the cores of Sam's chocolate irises. "You were singing – "

"I'm sorry if I woke you, sir," muttered Sam, brushing back a few of Frodo's ebony curls with his fingers, wiping the dirt from all of the creases and seething them away. "I meant no – "

Frodo pressed his cheek against Sam's shoulder, feeling the warmth vibrate through the skin and enter his own. "It was beautiful," he sighed.

"Now, Mr Frodo," replied Sam, hoisting Frodo gently with crimson lining his cheeks. "You shouldn't really say things that aren't true, now."

Frodo didn't reply. Instead he wove his nimble fingers into Sam's touch and accepted it as his own. He trickled them across the cold floor and shivered again, violently. With a deep sigh he hoisted himself into a sitting position against the wall, trying to ignore the throbbing pain of the bruise highlighting his torso.

Sam groaned. "Curse those orcs." He stared down at his wrists and shifted them, in an attempt to release them from the rope. "They had no right to do that to you, Mr Frodo."

Frodo said nothing. He continued to gaze at the wall opposite, longingly groping the space of flesh that once held the Ring close. A mysterious look burned in his eyes.

"We have to get of here somehow," Sam muttered, gazing around at the black roof and the muddy stone walls. "If we weren't tied t'might be a little easier, though. Those orcs might come back before we even think about it."

"Let them come," grumbled Frodo in a hollow voice.

Sam stared at him. "What?"

His master faced him with a bleeding lip, fire burning in his eyes. "They already have the Ring," he whispered, rather harshly. "What point is left in this journey?" He turned away.

"Mr Frodo – we can't just sit here and let them do what they like with us!" Sam protested, continuing to struggle with his bonds. "Lor' knows what they'll do!"

Silence.

Sam frowned a little, more out of confusion than anything. How could his master just sit there and claim not to do anything? They could still get out – they could be free! Perhaps they could snatch the Ring back and destroy it once and for all!

"We can't just give up," Sam said, almost to himself. "There has to be a way out."

"This isn't a game, Sam," Frodo suddenly snapped, in a cold, calm voice. "Perhaps there isn't a way out. Perhaps everything is forsaken. What is the use of fighting back when there is nothing to fight for?"

"What about our lives?" Sam insisted, boring his eyes into Frodo's. "I thought they were important enough to fight for, now!"

Frodo sighed, staring at his bound feet. "Sam," he started, almost too slowly. "The only reason why I continued with this struggle was for the goodness that would come forth. I didn't think about my own life, only the ones of others. Why should I think of my own soul when I have betrayed everyone else?"

"Well, I'm thinkin' of yours!" Sam argued, moving closer to Frodo and holding his tied hands in his. "I'm always thinkin' of it!"

"Well, don't!" Frodo growled, wrenching his fingers from Sam's grasp. "I don't need your pity, Sam! I don't need anything!"

A little taken aback, Sam sat and stared at Frodo. All at once, he could see some things that he had not noticed before. Some things that were different. Dark circles of exhaustion had embraced his master's eyes, and allowed them to appear lost...lost and enclosed in darkness. The sapphires hidden away seemed to glow, but only when they were enraged and burned with a blue flame.

He seems so angry with me, Sam realised. But I don't know what I did to make 'im angry.

"I don't pity you," Sam murmured quietly, in case he angered his master again. "I love you."

Frodo sighed, waves of guilt crashing against his heart. He turned away again. "I don't see how."

Sam opened his mouth to reply, but froze when he heard growls and footsteps on the rungs of the ladder. He gasped and backed up against Frodo, who merely sat there as if nothing was happening.

"I won't let them hurt you, Frodo," Sam whispered to him, but Frodo didn't reply. Sam couldn't decide if he had heard him, or was choosing not to.

Grimlok's foul head poked through the hole in the floor, and his cruel eyes lit up at the sight of the two bound Hobbits in the corner. "We got a lil' surprise for you," he smirked, climbing out and staring down at them.

"Don't you touch 'im!" Sam shouted bravely at their tormentor, his hand slipping through Frodo's arm, holding him close. "You lay a finger on 'im and – !"

Instead, Grimlok merely laughed. "Keep yer mouth shut, scumbag!" he spat, baring his teeth at the Hobbit. "Yer not in a position to take orders, here."

Sam looked desperately at the numb Frodo, who seemed to be a million miles away, in another world of his own. Surely, these orcs wouldn't hurt Frodo in any way! What did they want him for? They had the Ring!

"What d'you want with us!" Sam cried, clenching his fists. "Y'got what you wanted, why do this?"

They guffawed cruelly.

"Sport," came another orc's voice, Akhrásh, who was appearing at the top of the ladder with a long whip slung across his chest. Scars ran deep over his slimy body, and he smiled, teeth menacingly glowing through the black lips. "We ain't had some action f'a while, about time we did, eh?"

Sam couldn't believe his ears. What was the point of hurting them so? For fun?

"Please," Sam started, thinking quickly. "If that's the way it has t'be, then use me for your sport. Don't keep my master here – let Frodo go. He's been through enough, now...he don't need this!"

Frodo turned his head slowly, gazing at Sam. A strange, almost unbelieving look shimmered in his eyes. Sam was willing to sacrifice himself through so much pain and anguish, just so Frodo would not be touched!

He found no words to speak.

The orcs looked at each other for a moment, but then glared down at him.

"Y'think we're that stupid, d'ya?" Grimlok barked. "We know th'second yer friend is loose, he'll run off for reinforcements! 'E won't keep yer capture secret!" He smiled horribly at the naked Frodo. "Nah. 'E stays."

"He won't do that!" Sam protested, scrambling to his knees. "Please, just let 'im go!"

"Shut up!" Grimlok growled, kicking Sam in the knee and causing him to stumble to the floor again. "We said 'e's stayin', and that's just what e's doin', so pipe down!"

"Besides," hissed Akhrásh, a malevolent, mocking gleam highlighting in his eyes. "Snaga wouldn't take kindly ta'that, would 'e, now?" He directed his question to Grimlok, with a smarmy wink.

Grimlok sneered. "Nah, 'e wouldn't. 'E's taken," he looked Frodo's pale body up and down, "A likin' to that one, there."

Sam burned with anger at their laughter.

"Hold tha'one down," Grimlok ordered fiercely to Akhrásh, glaring at Sam with hatred alive in his words. "'E's gettin' on my nerves, already."

Sam's body went cold. He budged backwards with aching limbs, desperately urging for the feel of the wall against his back. If only his hands weren't tied, he would give these orcs more than what they were bargained for! And now...now they were going to torture him!

But before he could say anything, he heard Frodo's voice, rising from the shadows after such a long rest.

"No, no!" his master cried, panic trembling from his form. "Please, no! Do not harm Sam! I beg you!"

No, Frodo! Sam found himself thinking, I'd rather take it than you!

"It's all right, Mr Frodo," Sam muttered to him, seeing the orc staggering closer. "You jus' stay there – I don't want them hurtin' you!"

Frodo frowned, seizing Sam's arm to drag him away. "No, Sam!" he ordered, staring directly into Sam's eyes. "Let it be me – I could handle the pain! I fear for you...please do not do this, let it be me!"

"You've been through enough!" came Sam's bellow, in a voice that was not recognised by either of them. It announced itself with such viciousness that Frodo unwillingly released him, slightly taken aback.

"Come on!" Akhrásh snarled, brutally taking Sam's arm and hauling him to his feet. "Haven't got all day!"

"Get off of me!" Sam growled, struggling to wrench his arm from out of the creature's grasp, his feet flying to deliver kicks unsuccessfully.

Everything all seemed to be happening in a different world. Sam didn't feel like he was someone about to be scourged from limb to limb, but rather watching himself fall witness to it. He felt numb, and could barely make out the shattered pleas coming from Frodo across the room.

Rather me than you, Mr Frodo, was the only thing he could think of, as he fought back still, his stubborn heart not ready to give in.

"Hold 'im down!" he thought he heard Grimlok shout, and all at once he felt his knees give way, and the side of his face connected painfully to the cold, stone floor. Strong arms held his down and yet still he struggled.

Frodo's voice became louder; he could hear him clearly now, mingled with the sound of his rushing heart and his harsh breaths.

"Sam! Sam! O, please – don't do this! Please!"

Crack!

Sam felt his eyes squeeze themselves shut, his teeth clenching against an unstoppable scream that climbed from his throat. A strong, stinging pain, like hot fire, raged across the skin of his back, burning away all the senses. This hurt so much! How he wished it would stop! But still, he kept thinking the same thing:

Rather me than you, Mr Frodo.

The long, slender whip raised itself again for another attack.

"Sam! No! Oh, don't hurt him anymore...please! Please! I beg you – please!"

Crack!

Another bolt of white, hot pain sprinted across Sam's spine, cindering the flesh. He didn't even realise that tears were leaking from his eyes until he felt them on his cheeks.

Rather me than you, Frodo.

"Again!" he heard Grimlok yell.

The sound of Frodo's weeping. "Release him – please! Please! Take me, instead!"

Crack!

Sam heard another scream emit from his mouth, followed by a strangled sob. His fingers clenched at the cracks in the floor.

Rather me than you, Frodo.

"This will teach yer some respect, scum!"

"Curse you!" Frodo yelled wildly, tears streaming down his cheeks. "Curse all of you – damn you!"

Slap! The sound of Grimlok striking Frodo across the jaw to silence him.

Frodo's cry of pain.

Crack!

Sam groaned, bitter sobs clawing at his throat; the wave of fresh pain coursing through his skin.

Rather me, than you, love.

"Faster!"

"Sam!"

Crack! Crack!

Rather me than you, Frodo.

Crack! Crack! Crack!

"Oh, Sam! Sam..."

Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!

Rather me than you.

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A/N: Sorry that it's taken me so long to write this chapter, was caught up with work for a while, and I thought it was time to deal with the dark stuff. Please let me know what you think!