Scars of the Future

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, both Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings. They were created by the amazing minds of J.K. Rowling and J.R.R. Tolkien.

A/N: This fic was not created by myself alone. It was done inscript format over Instant Messenger by myself and Animagus-Spirit. This fic and most of the events in it are her brilliant ideas, I have just taken the task to write it. Therefore, this fic is dedicated to her. I would also like to thank my beta, Inwe Telemnar. You guys are the greatest!

Chapter 21: Sacrifice

Frodo's legs felt leaden as he guided Sam and Gandalf forward. He didn't want to be here, he didn't want to fight, he didn't want any of this, and what was he doing? Gandalf had promised that he and Sam need not become involved in battles, yet here they were, marching to an inevitable fight. And though he wanted to place the blame for his position on Gandalf, he knew it was his fault. Had he not gone after Harry to the graveyard in the first place...then again, had he not spoken so harshly to Bellatrix Lestrange she needn't have brought him to Voldemort, and he would still be free. But his dignity had been at stake, and the stubbornness that ran thickly in his blood hadn't allowed him to back down. The same resilience had saved him before, but he feared that this time it had doomed him.

He found Sam's hand resting on his arm and realized he had stopped moving and that he was visibly shaking. He met the younger, but certainly not young, hobbit's eyes and tried to smile his thanks, but a wave of vertigo overwhelmed him and he swayed dangerously on his feet before sinking to the floor, his breath coming in short gasps.

Sam mopped his brow with a handkerchief while Frodo tried to make the white spots of light in front of his eyes disappear. He clutched Sam's arm, needing something to ground himself to and clenched his eyes shut against the swarm of images that shot through his mind.

Tonk's pale face in the light of a candle…

"Mr. Frodo?"

Sirius's eyes, empty of all emotion, staring…

"He's not—"

...Harry standing in the middle of a room, blurs of other people moving around him, anger prominent in all parts of his stance as he raises his wand…

"—won't stop shaking—!"

"…the death of your beloved master!" Voldemort's voice, followed by his high-pitched, evil cackling and a blinding flash of green light, and Frodo's own scream of complete anguish…"

A firm grip on his shoulder was shaking him, and Frodo came to his senses and saw Gandalf staring at him with concern. Frodo realized he was shivering and had broken out into a cold sweat. Gandalf had apparently found and taken him and Sam into a small room. "The visions, again, Frodo?"

The hobbit nodded, not trusting himself to open his mouth. He felt as if he would be ill.

"He's in no fit state to do any fightin' Mr. Gandalf, beggin' your pardon," said Sam, moving to Frodo's side and feeling his brow.

Frodo yelped and scampered away, backing into a corner like a frightened beast. Sam's touch had been cold and had sent jolts of pain though his body. He huddled, staring at him with wide eyes. Sam and Gandalf exchanged alarmed glances, and then Sam slowly moved over to Frodo, stopping an arm's length from him. Eyes full of compassion, he extended a hand to his master.

"Mr. Frodo?" he asked tentatively. "It's me…it's your Sam."

Frodo's eyes softened and he clasped Sam's hand, who then embraced him, holding the shaking form in an attempt to comfort and console as Frodo released the tears, born from fear and stress, which had built up over the past few days.

"Forgive me, Sam. I do not know what has come over me. I am afraid, Sam, so afraid."

"Of what?"

Frodo shook his head. "I don't know. I cannot help feeling that some dreadful event is going to transpire."

Sam sighed. "Maybe we should go back, Mr. Frodo. We weren't meant to be here," he said.

Frodo looked passed Sam's shoulder at Gandalf, who stared back, although his face remained impassive. Frodo opened his mouth to object Sam's proposal, despite his wish to leave, but halted immediately at the sound of shouting from the corridor outside.

Gandalf rushed to the opening and looked out, then beckoned to the hobbits. "Come my friends! Now is the time to fight."

Sam gave Frodo a looked that clearly inquired to his well-being, and Frodo nodded. Sam helped him to his feet, and swords drawn they quickly followed Gandalf into the tunnel.

It was clear that the Order had arrived, and a group of Death Eaters had met them in the junction of the tunnels. They were engaged in a ferocious duel which Frodo, Sam, and Gandalf leapt into, using swords and staff to whatever purpose they could.

"Gandalf!" Gimli shouted above the din. "Keep going! We need no assistance here, do what you must accomplish!"

The Maia grabbed both hobbits and pulled them away from the scene of chaos. "Lead the way, Frodo, our time runs thin," he said.

Frodo, with Sam directly by his side, hurried forward down the tunnel and into the cellar. The door to the house was unlocked; the Death Eaters had most likely forgotten to lock it in their haste to reach the scene of disturbance in the tunnels. He pushed it open and walked into the house. Goyle stood waiting for them.

"Well, well," he said. "It appears the Dark Lord has a traitor. What should I do with him? I could—." His words were cut short as Gandalf shoved Glamdring through his gut.

"May that teach you to act before your enemies have time to react," the wizard spoke.

"Onward, Frodo."

Through the house Frodo led them, though they met only a few Death Eaters, three of which were quickly knocked unconscious by Gandalf's staff, ("We don't want to kill any we don't need to kill. They must testify before a judge once this is all ended,") and one was killed by Sam in defense of his master.

When they reached the staircase Frodo stopped. "He dwells at the top," he said. Gandalf nodded, and took the lead, for which Frodo was grateful. The two hobbits trailed behind him.

Halfway to the top Frodo had to stop, unable to move any further. It was as if some force wanted to prevent him from reaching the summit, and each step became more and more difficult. He caught his breath and took a drink from Sam's water flask, then deemed himself able to continue and began following Gandalf once more.

They reached the top and walked into the spacious room. All three froze.

Lord Voldemort stood in the center of the room, and standing in a half circle behind him were at least fifty Death Eaters. Voldemort grinned evilly.

"So…we meet again, Frodo Baggins. I bid you congratulations. There are few who have ever deceived me."

Frodo stiffened but said nothing as Sam gripped his sword.

"Thomas Marvolo Riddle!" Gandalf shouted. "Stop this madness! What have you done to yourself? Why do you choose this pathetic existence?"

Voldemort's eyes flashed in anger. He eyed Gandalf carefully, as if sizing him up.

"Gandalf the White…I have learned much of you from memories implanted in the minds of young Merry and Pippin."

"And if as much is true, then you should know that you are in for quite a match," Gandalf said.

"Am I?" Voldemort asked with mock interest. "We shall see—Crucio!"

But Gandalf was too quick, and sent the spell zooming back at Voldemort, who was hit squarely in the chest. The Dark Lord twitched and screamed until Gandalf raised his staff. The Death Eaters took a step back, alarmed by the power Gandalf seemed to have over Voldemort.

"You!" gasped the Dark Lord, pointing a finger in Gandalf's direction.

Despite himself, Frodo chuckled, and Voldemort whirled on him. "You dare mock me, Baggins?"

"I did not lie when I said I had more powerful allies than you, and even you must admit that now. Tell me, Voldemort, is Albus Dumbledore still the only wizard you fear, or are there now two?"

"You shall pay for your outburst, Crucio!"

Intense pain burned throughout every fiber of Frodo's body, and he felt as though he was being ripped apart. He had felt this before, but not like this, this—this was worse than before, and it didn't seem that it would end.

He heard Gandalf shout something above his screams and the pain stopped abruptly. Sam rushed to his side and brushed sweat-soaked curls out of his eyes. "Oh, me dear…"

"Ssh, Sam, I'm all right," Frodo said, sitting up. He didn't have the strength, though, and collapsed against Sam, breathing rapidly. He clutched his hand, entire body aching and head reeling. He had not the energy to fight his emotions any longer, and his resolve broke, allowing the fear to overcome him. He trembled and closed his eyes, willing himself to disappear.

Rage erupted inside of Sam upon seeing Frodo in such a state, and he glared at Voldemort. "Look what you've done to him! I won't let you touch him again!" he roared.

Voldemort laughed. "You are a pitiful servant," he said. "You have no right to speak to your betters, slime!"

"No…" muttered Frodo. "It's not true, Sam. I'd be nowhere without you, none of us would. Let it go, I'll be fine. Please, Sam."

But Sam was beyond reasoning. Blood pounded in his ears and he wanted nothing more than to cause as much pain as he possibly could to the one who had dared harm his dearest friend.

"I am not your servant," he said through clenched teeth, his voice quiet, yet firm. He was beyond the point of shouting now. "And I'm not afraid of you. I don't have to obey any of your orders, because you're nothing but a weed to me, especially after what you've done to Mr. Frodo."

Fury blazed in Voldemort's scarlet eyes. "But you will be a witness to the death of your beloved master!"

Frodo's eyes flew open the instant Voldemort raised his wand. "Avada Kedavra!" the Dark Lord shouted, but even before he was finished speaking the words or Gandalf could react, Sam threw himself in front of Frodo, shielding him with his body. There was a blinding flash of green light, and Sam fell limply to the floor.


TBC

I feel bad about this, so I'm posting the next chapter.