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

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Iorhael: Angst-lovers are the best ;0 Thanks for the review! Here be more angst!

Anouch: You'll find out if Sam saves him in this chapter...mwahaha, I torture these poor hobbitses ;p Hope you enjoy this, thanks for reviewing!

Abby: I understand where you're coming from, hun ;p Don't fret, I haven't given up on this, I was just really busy over the last few months and unfortunately had hardly any time to update –SOB- but as you can see I'm sorting that problem out :D F\S is tres interesting – I love their relationship, you no pathetico, I feel Sam's pain too, and I'm writing the blasting thing! LOL Thank you for your lovely review! Here's more for you!

Lady Lalaith: Best story EVER? O0 Thank you...but I very much doubt that...-Le BLUSHO- Stay alive please? I shall write more for you, and thank you for favouriting me! Hehe, enjoy!

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Bleeding Scars

Chapter Four: Lighten the Load

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The walls all around him were dripping with the noises of festered rainwater and greased slime. If the hobbit wasn't too busy screaming his lungs raw, he would have savoured his breath to block out the foul smell. He struggled in Akhrásh's strong, oily arms, kicking and thrashing as much as his bruised muscles could handle.

"SAM!" he yelled, his voice splintering, fear rising in his eyes. "Sam...Sam! PLEASE!" At that, he reached down to smack Akhrásh across the head after the orc hoisted him up onto his shoulder. "Put me down!"

As they passed through the dank sewers for halls, other orcs and handfuls of Uruk-hai witnessed the scene, smirking and hollering at the sight of the naked creature being hauled against his will for all to see.

Despite his struggling, Frodo could not help but feel very ashamed. It was almost as if he were a lamb to the slaughter – splayed out in front of them like a piece of meat.

"What've yer got 'ere then?" sneered an orc in a sinisterly teasing voice, appearing out of nowhere and travelling his beady eyes over the hobbit's body and staring evilly into his frightened blue eyes. He reached out a collection of claws and rubbed eagerly at poor Frodo's bare legs and opened welts.

"Don't touch me!" he gasped, attempting to draw himself in, away from any touch. "Stop it!"

But by this time, even Akhrásh was beginning to be encouraged by the orc's actions. He smirked, showing a mouth full of yellow teeth and, with the hand that he was using to support Frodo, stroked it over the hobbit's porcelain skin.

"Yeah, tasty lil' thing, ain't 'e?" he jeered, reaching his claws around Frodo's buttock and giving it a squeeze. "Pleasure holdin' 'im, jus' to feel right 'ere..."

More random orcs began to crawl out of the stonework, eyeing the hobbit's body hungrily, persuaded by other's doings. "Ooh, give us a feel," they snarled, thousands of palms and claws grappling for a touch of smooth, Halfling flesh that they were so curious for.

Frodo, on the other hand, was absolutely disgusted. "Leave me alone!" he tried to cry out, although it was smothered by the calls and chortles of his tormentors. He thrashed and kicked, screaming through his torn throat, but it only seemed to encourage them all the more. "STOP IT!"

"Feisty, ain't 'e?" another orc giggled, moving behind Akhrásh and taking hold of Frodo's ankles, scratching his fingers across the sole of the hobbit's foot and placing them between the spaces of his toes, swivelling them around. "Ooh, would I love t'eat you up, juicy lil' thing!"

"Give 'im here," beckoned an orc, reaching around to stroke the insides of Frodo's thighs, dangerously moving upward. "We'll all 'ave a good time with 'im, won't we, boys?"

At this remark the orcs hooted and roared with mocking laughter. However, inside, Frodo felt his bone marrow freeze rigid. Oh no, no, no...please, no – not that, not that! He stared at them, wishing that he could die on the spot, or retreat into some corner of his mind...away from this!

"No, no – please!" he begged, struggling in Akhrásh's arms. "Please, no...leave me be!"

"Won't do yer no good fidgetin', rat," barked his captor, his foul breath killing Frodo's nostrils. "As much as these lads would love t'play with yer – " and at this, the crowd of orcs whistled and moved forward for another feel of flesh – "Yer wanted somewhere else."

"Where?" his voice was a demanding whisper.

"Don't worry, tiny elf," sneered Akhrásh, patting the hobbit's left buttock and stroking. "You'll like 'im." He winked. "'E sure takes a fancy t'yer."

Frodo's mind was racing; a mix of panic and desperate confusion. Who? Who is it – why won't they tell me? Where is he taking me –what are they going to do! He gazed around at all of the laughing, jeering monsters, shouting calls and whistling long and hard.

Deep, deep inside, he had a funny idea of what they were planning, and the thought terrified and revolted him. They had already informed that they would use him for sport...but not this kind of sport! It was simply wrong and disgusting – and he was refusing!

I won't let them, he told himself, attempting to be determined but it only sounded somewhat half-hearted. I won't let them do anything to me – I was waiting until I was ready before anyone...

...I waited for Sam.

"Let's go," snorted Akhrásh, hoisting Frodo up higher and carrying him away down the stairwell. "Someone wants t'say hello to yer."

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"Oh – " gasped Frodo as he was rested back onto his feet, but then immediately shoved into a small, dungeon-like room, many levels below the tower that he was in earlier. He hit the floor with a horrible smack, shuddering from the cold that flowed from the room.

"'Ere you are," smiled Akhrásh, who was standing like a black silhouette in the doorframe. "E's all yours. Enjoy."

"Wait," panted Frodo, attempting to rise to his feet, even though his legs were stiff and trembling. "W-what am I...what are you going to do...?" Blood oozed from his bottom lip.

And then, almost an answer for him, a slow, drawling voice crawled from the shadows and addressed him, sounding very eager and excited at the sight that lay before him – all pale, smooth flesh and dark, glossy curls. Frodo heard it snicker.

"Mmm, why hello there," it oozed, stepping out of the shadows. "'Ave we met?"

Yes, thought Frodo with a stroke of dread. Yes...this voice is familiar.

He recognised it as Snaga, the orc who had held him prisoner before Sam came barging to his rescue. He also remembered the slimy creature...touching him and fondling him in places only Sam was allowed to touch. Frodo swallowed, a bitter flavour in his mouth.

"Please, wait – " he started, making his steady way towards the door. He didn't want to stay here with this monster! He had to think of some way out.

Slam! The door clanged shut on it's chunky, iron rings with a huge clang, and for a moment, Frodo was thrown into a short stage of inky shadow. That was, until, he opened his eyes, and saw filtered, urine-stained light glimmering down from the crude windows wedged into the stone. He turned around and saw Snaga standing there, licking his black lips.

"No," Frodo growled, taking a step back. "Don't you dare touch me you...you – !"

"Hush, littl' one," whispered Snaga, moving nearer. "Hush, now...yer safe with me. At last...I 'ave you all to m'self." He moved so close he made it possible for him and Frodo to be pressed up against the wall, skimming the skin of Frodo's thigh with the leathery hide of his own. "Ooh," he murmured, touching Frodo's cheek with a trace of his claw. "Such soft skin...jus' like a rose petal..."

"Don't..."

"I like the feel of yer..." he smiled, taking a handful of Frodo's leg and raking it softly with his nails, bringing it around behind and clenching the hobbit's buttock, squeezing forcefully. "Oh, yes...soft and firm...feels good," he leant in close, peering into those blue eyes and pressing the poor hobbit even further against the cold stone, until certain other areas of their bodies were touching.

"Mmmm..."

This was too much for Frodo. "No – Stop it!" he cried out, struggling and thrashing against the persistent beast with as much strength as his body was willing to offer him. "No! I will not let you do this to me! I won't!"

"Hush!" ordered Snaga passionately, grabbing hold of Frodo's bruised arm and pulling him close to his own body, peering into his face and moving his hand further downwards, groping at slick, dark hair and between thighs, a monstrous, famished glint in his yellow eyes. "You jus' stay quiet, now," he said quickly, with eagerness as he touched and rubbed, fully pleasured. "Jus' stay so very, very quiet..."

Frodo lashed out, striking and screaming as he tried to break free. "NO!"

"Hush, I said!" Snaga grasped hold of Frodo's hair fiercely, yanking his neck back, and causing Frodo to yelp in pain. "If yer don't shut yer trap, I'll scourge yer skin raw until yer bones creep through! That'll really give yer somethin' to scream about!"

Frodo said nothing but let a few silent tears fall. No matter what he did, he couldn't win. He would rather, if he had a choice, be robbed of his flesh rather than be invaded by this ruthless – and very unrelenting – orc. But, he was afraid that he would be whipped until he lost consciousness...and then who knows what he would do to him in that state.

He shook his head and reluctantly relaxed his muscles.

"Good," sneered Snaga, releasing his grip and reducing the pain. "Tha's better...relax yerself...lemme touch yer..." And, saying that, he used his oily body to pin Frodo's to the wall, letting his clawed hands trace over his prisoner's flesh with lustful moans, and whispers into his ear.

Frodo shuddered, but tried to ignore it. He knew full well what may happen, and he knew that he was not prepared for it. He didn't want it to happen, but he knew that it would possibly happen anyway. He didn't know what it would feel like, or what he would do when it happened. Still, he knew that as long as he kept telling himself that it would all be over soon, it would at least be something.

Do not fear, Sam...it shall be over soon.

"Ooh, yer so smooth," chided Snaga, taking hold of Frodo's thighs and touching the areas inside them. "Jus' like silk...elf silk – come 'ere." He laced his hands around Frodo's hips and pulled him to his, slowly rubbing them up and down. "Yeah...ooh, yeah...all mine..."

Frodo squeezed his eyes shut as tight as they would go, and thought of Sam. Sam...Sam, my love...I love you, Sam...only you...

He felt cold floor beneath his back and looked up into the small eyes of the terrible beast, touching his smooth chest. He felt thick, muscled legs straddle him and something stroking him fiercely, desperately.

"Mine...all mine...my littl' toy t'play with..."

He stared desperately at the bolted door and closed his eyes tight again, trying to block out the lustful pants and chuckles of the thing that lay upon him.

Sam...I love you. I'm sorry.

And from outside, many orcs and Uruk-hai, including Akhrásh had gathered around the outside of the cell, listening eagerly and nudging one another. They all winked and threw each other satisfied, knowing looks as they heard pleading and screams of pain coming from within, as well as the occasional chortle and groaning from Snaga.

Akhrásh simply stood there with his arms crossed, smirking.

Job done.

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A/N: Le gasp ;p Pretty evil of me to do this, I know, but it will make sense for the rest of the stuff I had planned (rubs hands) Hope you all enjoyed it, these orcs are getting nastier each chapter, huh huh? ;)