Chapter One: Captured
Frodo opened his eyes, wondering as he lay naked on a cold stone surface,
where was he? What had happened? Where was Sam? What is this place and how
had he gotten there? Nothing, he could remember nothing. His memory seemed
to be enveloped in a fog. All Frodo knew was that he was cold, sore
and his head hurt. He lifted his hand and reached for his forehead, a sharp
pain emanated from under his right arm. Frodo reached over and felt under
his arm and discovered a long stinging scourge mark caked in blood. He felt
his forehead, he had a large gash over his left eye and a bump on the right
side of his head. His lip was swollen and that was bleeding too. What had
happened to him? Frodo could remember nothing.
As Frodo sat up to survey his surroundings, he became aware of a great pain
on his back. A sharp stinging pain much like the one under his arm and he
feared there were scourge marks on his back as well. Every muscle in his
body was screaming in agony.
Frodo began to look around the room. It was very dark save one red lantern
hanging from the ceiling. It was a cold, damp, stark place and there was
a revolting stench hanging in the air. The room was round with one small
window behind him, high up the wall. It was so dirt-encrusted that
no light could penetrate the glass. Frodo could not tell if it was
day or night. He Tried to stand but found that his legs were too weak to
bear his own weight collapsing back onto the stone surface he looked around,
to no avail, for something to cover himself with. He was cold, so very cold.
He didn't think he could remember a time he was ever so cold.
Frodo tried desperately to remember the events that brought him to this place,
but It seemed impossible to clear the fog that surrounded his memory.
What was the last thing he could remember?
Sam, he had been with Sam. Frodo remembered a long dark tunnel,
a foul rancid smell, and they were running. Running from what?
He couldn’t remember. He knew he had been afraid. He felt the
awkward scared tumble of his heartbeat as he ran. Sam was right behind
him. He heard Sam yell. “Look out master! I’m…” Sam’s voice drifted
away. Then Frodo heard no more, he felt a sharp stinging pain in his
neck. Then rope, a sticky rope enveloped him. He couldn’t move
his arms and legs. Was he being dragged? Oh this was too much.
Suddenly everything became black and his mind faded.
That was all Frodo could remember. He had a horrible sinking feeling
in the pit of his stomach. He feared the worst for Sam. What
if Sam was dead? It was so horrible that Frodo didn’t even want to
think about it. He couldn’t, however, shake the awful feeling from
his mind and he seemed to know somewhere deep inside his heart that Sam was
gone, gone forever and would not be coming for him. Suddenly the tears
began to flow, and Frodo lay down on the cold hard stone surface and sobbed
uncontrollably.
Frodo roused himself from sleep feeling drained and not at all rested.
He sat up and looked around him, he was still in the same place, this dark,
dank, dungeon. He wondered again how long he had been there, and who
was keeping him. He felt his stomach growl and wondered how long it
had been since he had eaten. He stood up, his weak leg muscles quivered
but they held his weight and he began to walk around to room to investigate.
Walking toward the red lantern he noticed it was almost out of fuel.
He stumbled, his legs began to wobble, Frodo reached for something to steady
himself grabbing hold of a wall for support. The wall was cold and
not at all smooth, its jagged surface bore into Frodo’s all to raw right
forearm and he winced from the pain of it. He stood for a moment catching
his breath, clutching at his breast. His fingers were fumbling for
something that wasn’t there, something important, something precious to him.
What it was he couldn’t remember but Frodo couldn’t shake the feeling that
this object was the reason for his imprisonment.
Frodo began to walk the spherical shaped room, still clutching the wall for
support. He noticed there appeared to be no doors in the room, and
he wondered where the entrance was. He didn’t have to wonder very long.
There was a sudden scraping sound and he distinctly heard a bolt being drawn
back. Frodo turned and saw a wooden trap door in the floor of the room
suddenly fly open and slam against the cold stone floor. It created
a thunderous sound, which resonated off the pallid stone walls. Ascending
the ladder was a hideous Orc grasping a sword in one hand and a whip in the
other. Frodo, terror-stricken instinctively reached for Sting, remembering
it wasn’t there, began to shrink away, his heart seized in fear! The
Orc reached the top rung of the ladder and stepped into the room. A
second even more hideous larger Orc entered the room behind the first.
Frodo felt his blood rush to his head and felt an intense pressure began
to build around his brain. He could see the Orc’s mouth moving.
He was speaking, saying something. Frodo could not understand him.
all Frodo could hear was the vigorous pounding of his heart echoing in his
ears!
The Orc slowly began to move toward Frodo, holding something in his hands!
Frodo, wild with fear and trembling recoiled against the stone wall!
He felt a scream rising within him but it fell dead at his throat, for who
would hear him? Who would come to help him now? No one, there
was no one left.
Chapter Two: Terror in the Night
Frodo, paralyzed with fear, clenched his fists as one of the large Orc’s
drew closer; the second Orc remained at the door standing guard. “Lugbúrz
says you eat!” Sneered the Orc as he threw something on the floor at
Frodo’s feet. Frodo did not look down, did not dare to take his eyes
off the orc, fearing the worst. He leaned in closer, Frodo could feel
his foul, hot breath on his face, “its not fair I haven’t eaten
yet…shouldn’t feed food, to food!” The Orc laughed, turned on his heals,
walked back to the door and descended the ladder. The second Orc just
stood there staring at Frodo menacingly. His black eyes peering at
him sizing him up, Frodo heard the unmistakable sound of metal scraping metal
as the orc began to unsheathe his sword. The Orc licked his lips and
said something about ”fresh meat”. Frodo heard the first orc holler
“Gorbag, get down here!” Gorbag muttered something inaudible, replaced
his sword and climbed back down the stairs, watching Frodo with a menacing
look. The trap door slammed shut and Frodo heard the bolt slid back
into place.
Frodo breathed a sigh of relief at their departure, and looked down to see
a plate and a flask lying at his feet. Frodo wondered who or what Lugbúrz
was and why he felt it necessary to provide Frodo with provisions.
He sat down to discover what they had brought him. On the plate there
was foul smelling meat and some stale bread, he contemplated if the food
had been poisoned and hesitated eating it. He finally determined that
poisoning food was not in orc fashion, they would rather spear their prey
with a sword, Frodo decided to chance that the food was safe.
He was especially glad to have the water he did not realize how thirsty he
had been. His lips were caked with a film and his tongue seemed thick
and swollen. He picked up the flask and poured some water into his
hand, it was dark in color but it did not smell offensive, he took a sip
and it tasted good, and he began to drink. He stopped when it was about
half gone, deciding to save the rest not knowing when he would receive more,
if ever. Frodo looked at the plate of food pushed the meat aside there
was no telling what kind of meat was on the plate. He knew better that
to eat meat offered by Orc’s and decided the bread was the safest choice.
Frodo sat back and began to eat the hard, stale bread. He oddly found
himself wishing for Lembas bread. His thoughts returned to the day
he and Sam were in Emyn Muil sharing the stale bread and how glad Sam had
been to have it. “Nothing ever dampens your spirits does it Sam?”
Frodo had said, meanwhile wincing at the staleness of it. How glad
he would be to have that Lembas now, he would never complain again, but the
Lembas had been taken with all his other things. His clothes, his pack,
his Sam, how much he missed Sam. He must be dead , for Frodo knew that
nothing short of death would keep Sam from his Masters side. Frodo felt a
tear rolling down his cheek, there was such a pain and emptiness inside him.
There was a longing Frodo could not describe, for Sam yes, but there was
something more, something that he could not remember gnawed at his very soul.
Frodo’s right hand was again clutching his breast fumbling for something
that wasn’t there. What was he looking for? What had he lost?
He still could not remember.
Frodo wondered what day it was, perhaps it was night, light still did not
penetrate filthy window. He began to think about Bag End and how much
he missed his home. Frodo’s eyelids began to grow heavy
and his body felt light. A weariness began to take a hold of
him “I wonder what was in that water” he thought to himself as he lay down
and sleep quickly began to take a hold of him.
Frodo woke suddenly, there was a brightness in the room and a voice he recognized.
“Good morning Master Frodo, I was beginning to think you were going to sleep
the day away. You must be awfully tired. Too much ale with Mr. Merry
and Mr. Pippin at the Green Dragon last night I reckon.”
Sam!! It was Sam! Frodo bolted straight up in bed just as Sam was pulling
back the curtains in Frodo’s bedroom. Sam turned around
“Why Master Frodo, what’s the matter? you look as if you’ve just seen
a ghost. Come on I’ve got breakfast ready. It’s getting to be
near ten am. You’ve wasted almost the whole day away now. I thought
I might do some Strawberry picking today if you have a mind to join me.
Only a week or so left of strawberry season you know.” Frodo just sat
there unable to move or speak. He was home at Bag End, in his own room,
in his soft feather bed, with his lovely feather pillow. He felt euphoric,
his eyes began to fill with tears “ I am so glad to see you Sam! “ he said
“Why Master Frodo, What ever is the matter with you today? You just saw me yesterday?”
“Oh Sam!” cried Frodo, as he ran to embrace his friend “ I have just had
the most awful nightmare ever, you were there, Merry, Pippin, there were
Elves”
Frodo’s voice drifted off not sure he could put this dream into words.
“Elves you say Mr. Frodo, well I have always wanted to go see the Elves,
come on then you can tell me all about it at breakfast” and with that Sam
left the room.
Frodo sat back down on the bed and breathed a sigh of relief it had all been
a horrible nightmare. He caught the aroma of sausages and eggs coming
from the kitchen and he rushed to get dressed, he didn’t ever remember being
so hungry. Frodo ran to the kitchen and began to tell Sam all about
his dream. Sam just sat on the other side of the table wide eyed in
amazement. When Frodo got to the part about Shelob, Sam’s eyes became
wild with terror.
“Stop Master Frodo, I don’t think I can hear anymore! I’ve always wanted
to go see the Elves I have, but Orc creatures, gigantic spiders, and black
riders it's just too much Mr. Frodo I can’t bear to hear anymore!”
Frodo began to laugh “alright Sam, “I’ll spare you anymore details. I’m just
glad to be here, I am sure it is an awful thing to hear. I was terrified
mind you, and I suppose its no conversation for the breakfast table.
And Frodo began to eat.
Just then there was a knock at the front door and before Sam could answer it Merry and Pippin came tumbling through the door.
“Good morning cousin Frodo!” said Merry
“Yes, good morning cousin” chimed Pippin “ooh sausages, lucky for us were just in time for second breakfast!”
Pippin quickly sat down opposite Frodo at the kitchen table grabbing a plate
and helping himself to four sausages and two eggs. Sam shot Pippin
a look of disdain, thinking him very rude to just help himself, but thought
it better not to say anything. After all this was Master Frodo’s house
and he didn’t seem to mind. Merry came up behind Frodo grabbing him
about the neck.
“That was some time we had last night wasn’t it Frodo? Where on earth
did you ever hear that song you were singing? Something about a man named
Tom Bombadil? Never heard such a strange song. Come on lets have
it again Frodo” said Merry as he reached up and tussled Frodo’s hair.
Tom Bombadil? Tom Bombadil? Where had Frodo heard this name before?
Suddenly there was a shiver in his spine and he felt uneasy. Frodo
reached up to remove Merry’s hand from his head, When all of a sudden there
was a sharp pain!
“Ouch!!!!” Cried Frodo
Merry had stabbed him with something, Frodo grabbed Merry’s hand it was soft,
and furry, Frodo flung it off his head and heard a dull thud and a hissing
sound.
Frodo opened his eyes, it was pitch black . It took a moment for him
to remember where he was. He was in the tower, the lantern had gone
out and it was as black and cold as a moonless winter night.
Frodo was frightened, it had all been a dream! Sam, Merry, Pippin the
sausages it was all a dream! It had seemed so real and that made the
emptiness of this place seem even darker. Frodo held his hand it was
bleeding, something had bit him. It could only be one thing Frodo thought
to himself, a rat, a horrible rat!
As he lay there quietly he could hear the sound of many tiny claws scurrying
across the stone floor. What could he do with no light in the
room there was nothing to keep the rats from crawling on him! Frodo
was terrified, he lay there as quiet and as still as he could. His
resolve was to not move a muscle, maybe they would not know he was there.
He tried to calm his breathing and relax. Something brushed past his
foot, then something past his arm! His mind was spinning, everything
started to go foggy, he started to feel himself falling, and he felt like
he was suffocating! Suddenly he heard a voice singing quietly at first
but it steadily got louder.
Ho! Tom Bombadil, Tom Bombadillo
By the water, wood and hill, by the reed and willow
By fire, sun and moon, harken now and hear us!
Come, Tom Bombadil, for our need is near us.
It was Frodo’s own voice, he was singing, he knew that ol’ Tom Bombadil was
too far away to hear him, but it seemed to ease his spirits, and for some
reason it seemed to be keeping the rats away for the moment.
Frodo lay there singing into the black night as loud as his feeble, worn,
cracked voice would allow him. Listening to the sounds of claws scurrying
across the cold stone floor. Wondering how long his singing would keep
them at bay? Wondering how long his singing would keep them at
bay? Not very long it seemed and he felt something crawl up his leg, then
something on his arm! Frodo closed his eyes tight, tried to breathe and sang
even louder!
Ho! Tom Bombadil, Tom Bombadillo...
Chapter Three
Frodo lay there in the darkness singing till his throat was horse and
his frail voice was barely echoing off the stone walls. He tried to
keep the horror of what was happening out of his mind but it was impossible!
He could feel the mangy vile creatures enveloping his body like a blanket.
Everywhere he could feel their razor-sharp claws prodding, climbing over
his bare skin. He tried standing and moving but it did not help they
clung to him like leaches. He was terrified and thought this nightmare
would never end! Just when he thought he could bear no more and darkness
began to take him, he heard the bolt on the trap door being pulled, the door
swung open and came to a halt on the floor with a tremendous thud.
There was a bright light in the room and Gorbag stood there staring at Frodo,
a lit torch blazing in his hand.
“Stop your sqeekin’ or I’ll learn you good!” sneered the Orc. “I see
you’ve had some visitors,” he jeered as he watched the rats scurry from the
light. “That’s alright, they don’t eat much,” Gorbag laughed.
He then replaced the extinguished lantern with a lit one and turned to leave.
“Now be quiet, or I’ll chain you up for good!” he growled and the door once
again slammed shut and Frodo heard the bolt slide back into place.
It was quiet again, the rats had disappeared, but Frodo could still feel the sensation of their claws against his skin.
The new lantern seemed brighter; he could see much more of the room than
before. He still sat upon a cold stone ledge at the far edge of the
room. Attached to the wall, farthest from the door, were rows of chains
with shackles hanging from the ends. He shivered at the thought
of being chained up, he would be quiet as ordered, Frodo glanced at the lantern
wondering how many hours of fuel were in it. How long did he have until
the veil of darkness resumed, and the rats returned?
Frodo continued his glance around the room, he noticed something lying in
a heap in the corner, he walked over to investigate. He at last discovered
the source of the foul stench in the room; it was a pile of dirty rotting
rags. The smell made him nauseas and he reeled backward collapsing
onto the floor.
Frodo, drew his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them for warmth.
He sat there thinking and desperately trying to recall what had brought him
to this place. He remembered a great black monster surrounding him,
its many black, piercing, baleful eyes peered down at him, he was trapped
between the great arches of her many legs. He had been bound from his
shoulders to his feet, he was being lifted off the ground and dragged, he
remembered Sam yelling something and then everything went black. He
knew nothing till he woke up in this place.
Orcs there were horrible orcs all around, they gave him a gruesome drink
and it burned his throat. Then they stripped him of everything, and
questioned him. Hours, days, weeks, he did not know He thought
would go insane from all the questioning. They were looking for something,
they wanted something of his! Their fingers pointing, prodding, poking,
jabbing! What had they wanted? Frodo sat there frustrated at
himself, feeling the need to remember something he could not. He felt
a yearning for something that he no longer possessed. His head began
to hurt, his right hand again fluttered toward his breast in a vain attempt
to seek for something that was no longer there. Frodo closed his eyes
searching the deep recesses of his mind, trying to discover what it was he
was missing. His mind drifted back, back to a place of darkness.
Five tall, dark figures loomed over him, black robes swirling in the air,
their white, ghostly drawn faces burning, piercing the darkness that surrounded
them, and their sullen eyes peering out from under black robes, searching,
yet not really seeing. A white, pellucid, gaunt hand was reaching,
grasping for something. A flash of something gold on Frodo’s finger, Frodo’s
hand not being able to resist the force was being pulled, lifted toward the
looming figure. With desperate strength Frodo pulled back, a long dagger
pierced his left shoulder pinning him to the ground. Frodo cried out
in agony, reached over and removed an object from his left hand!
The Ring! Frodo suddenly remember the ring! It was gone!
His ring, the purpose for the quest it was the reason that he was here!
Terror seized him, it was gone they had taken the ring, he had failed!
The one task he had been given to do he had failed at. Frodo’s heart
was sickened, all hope was lost! Frodo remembered Galadriel’s words
to him in Lothlórien; “This task was appointed to you, and if you
do not find a way, no one will.”
What will happen now? What was to become of him? Locked away
in this dungeon, the ring now in the hands of the Enemy! Frodo couldn’t
help but feel that if Gandalf had lived none of this would have happened.
The Fellowship would not have been broken, he and Sam would have never followed
Gollum, Sam would still be alive and Frodo not locked up in this horrible
place! Frodo began to weep, all was now lost!
What had Gandalf ever seen in him, why had he been entrusted to such a task?
He was just a small hobbit from the shire. Such things were beyond
him. The entire fate of Middle Earth had rested on his shoulders and
he had failed! Frodo’s grief consumed him he was sickened by the thought
of his failure!
A feeling began to well up inside of him, something he had never felt before,
he was grieved over the failure yes, but this was something more, something
deeper, a desire he had never felt before. It was so strong that he
felt as if it would devour his very soul. He heard a voice speaking,
he looked around, despite the fact he knew no one was there. “Who’s
there?” cried Frodo!
There was no answer just a menacing laugh. Frodo shrank away in fear.
“Who are you he cried?” The cackling laugh just got louder.
“What do you want?” asked Frodo
The voice responded “We wants it, no, we needs it, must have precious!”
“Who are you?” demanded Frodo.
“Why Frodo, don’t you know? the voice laughed “you should recognize
me! I am you! They stole if from us must have it back, must have precious!”
Frodo recognized his own voice speaking these words and yet somehow his voice
was different. A deeper, gruff violent voice, he knew couldn’t be his
and yet somehow it was familiar. Frodo suddenly realized who he sounded
like. Sam’s words came flashing back in his mind.
“Can’t you hear yourself? Don’t you know who you sound like?”
Frodo had shrugged off Sam’s words that day. He knew it wasn’t possible,
he would never become like Gollum. The ring would never have the same
affect on Frodo that it had on Gollum, would it?
His heart sank, now Frodo knew it was possible, the ring had taken him, it
had consumed him, the quest was over, his life was finished.
He only wished Sam was there, Frodo would tell him he was sorry. Sam
had been right about so many things especially Gollum, but Frodo wouldn’t
listen.
Frodo wondered was what was to become of him now? He knew that he was
destined become a slave to Sauron. Frodo remembered Gandalf’s
words to Frodo in Rivendell about being stabbed with the Morgul blade
“If they had succeeded you would have become like they are, only weaker
and under their command. You would have become a wraith under the dominion
of the Dark Lord and he would have tormented you for trying to keep his ring.”
Frodo knew what was in store for him, he would forever be under the Dark
Lords control and power now. He didn’t care so much for himself but
for his friends he was worried. He knew that they had depended on him
and he had failed!
Frodo completely drained of strength collapsed upon the heap of stinking,
rotting rags. The stench was vile and all consuming, but he didn’t
care, his tiny frail body could take no more. He lay down his head
and prayed for death, for that was the only thing that could truly save him
now! Death was the only escape left.
Frodo was not sure how long he lay there but he thought he heard Elves singing.
Was he dreaming? Had death finally come for him?
In western lands beneath the sun
the flowers may rise in the spring.
The trees may bud, the waters may 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:
I will not say the Day is done,
Nor bid the stars farewell.
Suddenly a feeling began to well up in Frodo’s heart, he knew this song.
Bilbo had taught it to him, Frodo lifted his voice and began to sing along
with the Elves. His faint quiet voice was feeble at first but gradually
grew stronger. Before too long Frodo sensed someone in the room.
“ I told you to lie quiet or you’d pay for it! You’ve not got long
to live in peace, I guess; but if you don’t want the fun to start right now,
keep your trap shut, see?”
Frodo heard the crack of a whip and felt a great stinging pain, he didn’t
care, maybe death would come for him now. He instinctively shielded
his face but secretly wanted death to take him. Frodo heard a scream,
was it him? He didn’t think so, everything was growing so foggy and
distant. He heard a struggle occurring and then a great thud!
He felt his body going light like he was beginning to float away, his arms
and legs began to go numb. This was it, he thought, death coming for him,
he was glad, he was tired and was ready to die. His last thoughts were
of Sam, he hoped that with death he would be able to see his beloved Sam
again, on the other side, wherever that was. And with that thought
Frodo faded into blackness.
“Frodo! Mr. Frodo, my dear! Frodo!” Frodo opened his eyes, kneeling before him was Sam!
“It’s Sam, I’ve come!” Sam was sobbing and holding Frodo to his breast.
“Oh Mr. Frodo, hold on I’m here, it’s your Sam!”
“Sam?” replied Frodo “Sam are we dead?” Sam continued to cry, stroking Frodo’s furrowed brow.
“No Mr. Frodo we are not dead, we are very much alive, and I’ve come for you!”
“Am I dreaming? The other dreams were all so horrible.”
“No Mr. Frodo you’re not dreaming! Said Sam half laughing half crying Tis’ I tis’ your Sam and I’m really here!
Frodo lay back in Sam's gentle arms, closing his eyes.
“I’m glad you’re here Sam, oh how I have missed you, I think you shall never know.”
“Come Mr. Frodo, I need to get you somewhere safe.”
Sam gently picked Frodo up and headed toward the door.
