Pairing: Frodo/Sam

Summary: Frodo and Sam continue their journey to Mordor but they will face more than the lure of the Ring. This can be read as a continuation of my story, "Just for a Moment" or can stand alone.

Disclaimer: Needless to say, these characters belong to Tolkien (except for the obvious original character). No profit is made, nor offence intended.
Rating: PG-15, Angst, UST, some violence
Feedback: Always appreciated - perhobfan@yahoo.co.uk
AN: This story deviates from both book and movie cannon but its only a little detour along the way.

Part 4

Sam ate a hasty meal on the run, though he begrudged the slackening of pace greatly. He had been following the trail of the Orcs as best he could for several hours, gleaning as much as he could from the bare ground. Steadfastly, Samwise Gamgee refused to give up hope. His master would be found, unharmed, and they would continue their journey as if nothing had happened. If he had to despatch a few hulking great Orcs to accomplish this, then he would, that was all there was to it.

The sliver of lembas went down all too quickly and Sam would allow himself not a crumb more; chances were that Frodo would be a little peckish and might fancy a spot of tea. Maybe he could snare a bird and make some broth, that would do them both the power of good. And Frodo would likely be cold and need some extra warmth tonight so he would need to shake out his blanket extra carefully. Tonight? Sam remembered the coil of rope tucked in the bottom of his pack and decided that tonight he would tie one end around Frodo's ankle and keep a tight hold of the other. He never wanted to go through this again.

Sam froze. A chill ran up his spine and took up residence in his scalp and he knew, instinctively, that he was not alone. In truth, the feeling had started to take root some minutes hence, though he could not have named it then, this imperceptible knowing that something was wrong, something was near. And it was not Frodo.

"The Captain amuses himself with the runt," sneered an Orc, tearing a shred of dry meat from his ration. "I told you, he's a strange one, the Captain."

His companions nodded agreement and furtively watched their leader and the prisoner at the outskirts of the camp.

"But why linger here? Our reward is in Isengard, many days hence! It is folly to stay here. The horsemen may happen upon us at any time, we should go and go now", this from a squat, swarthy bowman. There was deep discontent in the camp of the Orcs.

Decreeing that they would travel again at dusk, the Captain had posted perimeter guards and ensured that, should an attack be launched, they would be well prepared. His own scimitar lay by his thigh, within easy reach, though at this moment he feared nothing.

Tall for an Orc, broad at the shoulder and meaty, the Captain was in stark contrast to the halfling sitting an arms length away. Frodo, untied, had assumed as proud a bearing as he could muster, though in truth he was sick with fear. His eyes kept darting from the shining, serrated scimitar to its dark and terrifying owner, try as he might not to look.

"Are you afraid of me, halfling?" asked the Captain, his voice guttural but distinct. Frodo had been surprised to find the Orcs used the Common Tongue, though it sounded outlandish issuing from those lips.

"No." Frodo replied, quickly.

"I think you are."

"You are twice my height, possess many times my strength; you are armed to the teeth and are one of six. Why would I be afraid of you?" said Frodo, somewhat sarcastically.

The Orc threw his head back and laughed, a strange sound indeed, being so totally unexpected. He leaned over to stare hard into the face of the Hobbit, then laughed again and leaned back against the rock.

"I have orders, orders to take you to Saruman. What do you think of that, brave little warrior?" he asked, serious again. Frodo fought to control his fear and the weight of the Ring which had begun to make its presence known. Did the Ring fear it would be passed to yet another Bearer when all it yearned for was to be reunited with the Dark Lord himself?

"You think deep thoughts, I see them whirling in your little head, behind those big eyes, halfling," said the Captain, his hand resting on the blade of his scimitar. "Are you contemplating escape? No,you are too cunning for that, you know it would be useless. You think then to find some other way out of your fix?"

Frodo did not like this turn in the conversation, nor the suddenly feral look in the Captain's lean and hideous face. Could the Orcs really have shared a common ancestry with the Elves? Likened on occasion to an Elf himself, Frodo found himself studying the Captain, seeking in his ruined countenance some remnant of the proud race of Lord Elrond and Legolas.

"Your companion," began the Captain, flicking the scimitar over and over almost playfully. "I watched him as he watched you. Is he your lover?"

Sam had almost convinced himself that he was suffering from an overactive imagination brought on by hunger and worry when in the tail of his eye he caught a quick, furtive movement and spun round to find himself facing the strange creature who had dogged their steps in Moria - Gollum. Gollum!

"You! C'mere my lad!," Sam cried, and caught the wriggling wretched creature by a skinny wrist.

"Leave us be, he's hurting us!" wailed Gollum, twisting in Sam's iron grip.

"What's your game? Out with it? Do you know where my master is, do you?" Sam thundered.

Gollum writhed to no avail. "No, no, we don't know, we don't. He's lost him and now he blames us, he does, when he's the one what lost him, and the precious."

"I don't care a fig about the precious as you call it, I care only about my master!" Sam threw the miserable creature to the ground and stomped about, picking up his packs and cursing under his breath. This was a turn of events, no mistake. Now what to do?

"Did you put them Orcs onto Frodo?" he demanded, over the prone and whimpering form of Gollum.

"No, we would not do that, we would not", howled Gollum, catching at Sam's ankle imploringly.

Sam tried to shake off the bony hand to no avail and set off again in pursuit of Frodo with Gollum dragging behind him. Desperation, hunger and terrible fear conspired to cause Sam to convulse in hysterical laughter as he slumped down on the ground beside his tormentor. Before the laughter could convert to tears, Sam got shakily to his feet, dragging Gollum up after him.

"Are you coming with me? Because if you are, know this, that if you try to hinder me I will kill you, do you hear me? I will, mark my words." Gollum nodded, and Sam thrust his pack at the creature, preferring to trust Frodo's to his own keeping.

"Now keep up!" he yelled over his shoulder.

"Is he your lover?"

"That is absurd," Frodo was indignant and found to his dismay that he was blushing. The Captain had somehow managed to diminish the distance between them whilst Frodo was distracted and now sat by his side. The soldiers were changing the guard, those coming off duty lazing on the ground, those going on grumbling and casting evil glances at the Captain and his runt.

"Do you have a lover?" persisted the Captain. Frodo glanced cautiously up into the amber eyes of this strange Orc and saw beyond the physical to the loneliness there, a great depth of loneliness. And something else, something less worthy of his pity. He tried to scramble away but the Captain caught hold of his wrist and held him gently but firmly.

"I had a lover, once. A soldier, like me. He was tall and fine and strong. He taught me to look beyond the next meal, the next kill. We made love as if we were the first ever to do so."

Despite himself, Frodo had to ask.

"What happened to him, your lover?"

"He was killed by Men. He died valiantly, bathed in blood, it was as he would have wished it. Orcs do not grow old and die in soft beds, halfling."

They were silent for a moment and Frodo thought of Sam. How strange that this Orc had discerned such a thing about Sam. His lover? A thrill of pleasure surfed through his body at the thought of Sam as his lover. A spasm of joy which then became tangible and of the moment. Looking down, Frodo saw the big hand of the Orc on his thigh and he stared at it as one might a poisonous snake. The hand was caressing him through his breeches, a rough, almost a scaly hand, the nails very long. Frodo shuddered to think of that hand touching his flesh, yet there was undeniable excitement there too.

The Orc's breath came quicker now as he shifted position to more easily fondle the Hobbit. Revulsion swept over Frodo but he could not bring himself to withdraw from that hand.

"I will not hurt you. I have not thought of my lover for many a long day until I saw you. You are nothing alike, save you have his spirit. I could take you here and now and you would have no choice but to obey me; that is simply the rule of nature, halfling. But I would rather you joined to me willingly. It will be a long road to Isengard, but I will make it easier for you and do everything to protect you - just be with me." The Captain's hand crept softly through the folds of Frodo's tunic and waistcoat and long nails paused as they scraped the mithril coat. Despite himself, hating himself, Frodo found the warmth emanating from that hand hard to resist.

"Captain!" It was one of the soldiers. He was surly looking even for an Orc, and he had his hand on the hilt of his scimitar, the blade drawn an inch from its sheath.

"We think we should move on now, rather than wait for dusk. We have wasted enough time here. If we are to make sure of our rewards at Isengard we should go, now."

"We will go when I give the order, not before." The Captain rose, his weapon in his hand. "Get back to those other curs and think yourself lucky I am a patient Orc."

"Captain, you would do well to reconsider. We waste precious time while you enjoy yourself with this puny halfling. It may be supposed you have lost your senses over him."

"So this is the way of it, you seek to replace me?" asked the Captain, rising to his feet.

Without warning, the arrow came from nowhere and pierced the arm of the Captain; for a moment he stood frozen and bemused, watching his blood seeping down to the wrist. The archer, the one Orc who the Captain had long considered loyal, fitted another arrow ready to loose, while the others surrounded their erstwhile leader and the Hobbit. Frodo felt rough hands seize him and he was pulled into the air and hefted onto the shoulder of one of the Orcs.

With a bellow of rage the Captain swung his blade in a wide arc and felled two of the soldiers with one blow, the mouth of one gaping open as he let out a shriek, even as his head left his shoulders. Frodo was thrown back on the ground as his captor turned to face the Captain, the remaining two Orcs joining him to circle their quarry warily. This, after all, was the Captain and wounded prey was deadly prey.

"You think to take my glory from me? You think to steal the prize? You shall not have him!" the Captain swung the scimitar and dealt death to the archer even as he loosed his second arrow. Frodo cried out as the Captain fell, the black arrow protruding from his chest. Now there were two, and the ringleader readied his blade to finish off the Captain. He raise the scimitar above his head and was about to complete the downswing when his eyes bulged from his sockets and he fell, surprised, to the ground. Behind him, panting and wild eyed, stood Frodo. He had never killed anyone, any living creature, before. He looked at the rock which he had thrown at the head of the Orc and which was now covered in blood, and he felt bile rising in his throat. Gandalf had warned him not to be hasty in dealing out death and judgement, yet it had come to that and he had made his choice. Please, Gandalf, understand.

Now there was just the Captain and the final soldier of his company. For a moment Frodo thought the Orc would best the Captain, wounded as he was, but ludicrously he turned tail and ran, as fast as his legs could carry him.

Sinking to the ground, the Captain stared at the arrows which impaled him and then looked to Frodo. The Hobbit hesitated a second and then ran to join him. He gently touched the arrows which quivered as they were caught in the rhythm of the Captain's labouring heart.

"What must I do?" he asked, helplessly. Should he try to draw the arrows out?

"Captain, what must I do?", implored Frodo, the tears he had suppressed now falling fast.

"What must you do? You must find your lover and leave me here, alone. That is what you will do," came the reply. Then there was silence.

Frodo looked down at the body of the Captain, bathed in blood. A good way for an Orc to die.

Sam and Gollum came upon Frodo, surrounded by death, as the sun was setting.

No words were needed. Explanations would come later.

Sam was understandably surprised when Frodo asked for his help in burying the Captain. The job was beyond them, however, Gollum refusing to render any assistance whatever. They compromised and covered the body in a cairn of bleached stones. Frodo stood silent for a moment, then the three of them resumed their journey.

As evening fell, Gollum left the Hobbits and went in search of food, having expressed his utter contempt for the lembas of the Elves.

Frodo seemed quite uninterested in how Gollum came to be with Sam or indeed in what might lay ahead. He stared at the small fire and did not utter a single word of protest when Sam gently tied the rope around his ankle. He realised he had not told Sam about his part in the killing of the Orc, and he decided it would be best not to, at least for now.

"Sam, may I ask you a question?" asked Frodo, his eyes cast to the ground.

"Of course, Mr Frodo, ask away," replied Sam, tying the other end of the rope around his wrist.

"Are you my lover?"

Sam felt as if the sky had fallen in on him, stars and sun and moon, the whole job lot. He looked at Frodo, who kept his head down.

"What do you mean by that?" asked Sam, hoarsely.

"Be my lover, Sam. I do not wish to die alone."

"Oh, Frodo. If I has my way, you won't be dying, alone or otherwise, for a very long time."

Frodo looked upon the weathered and honest hands of Sam as they explored his body, and put away the memory of larger hands which had sought to do the same. He returned Sam's touch with passion, allowing himself to fall more deeply into this first, sweet embrace than he would have thought possible. Unbidden, Frodo recalled the words of the Captain about his lover, that they made love as if they were the first ever to do so. He had not understood those words then but he did now. Long in dreams had Frodo been joined with Sam, how sweet was the wakening.

The two became one, bound by love and a coil of Elvish rope.