Sophinisba Solis (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sophinisba) wrote2006-01-12 04:51 pm
sophinisba) wrote2006-01-12 04:51 pm
Entry tags:
New Frodo AU
I still might change the title if someone would suggest something better. *hopes*
Title: Not Yourself, Chapter 1/11 (probably)
Author: Sophinisba Solis
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Gen AU following mostly movie-verse. Faramir takes the Ring and means to save Frodo from madness.
Beta: Thank you,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
claudia603!! Readers, if you see a problem we missed, please drop me a line!
Disclaimer: Of course, of course, I don't own these characters or their setting, and I make no money by writing about them.
Warnings: Kinda dark, some off-screen violence, no happy ending. More extensive intro, summary, warnings and author's notes here, hidden for the benefit of those who prefer to be startled.
1.
They’ve taken away his sword, of course. That was the first thing, back at Osgiliath. They took away the sword even before they took the Ring. Knocked it out of his hand and pushed him back against a broken stone wall, and Frodo was barely aware of Sam staggering away, clutching at his throat but still staring back at Frodo with an expression Frodo was too preoccupied at the time to try to interpret. As Frodo continued to struggle, the men pushed harder, then in frustration began to strike him. And Frodo thought he heard Sam give a shout of protest before the grey shapes around him lost form and faded to nothingness.
Frodo understands them taking away Sting and reflects that he never really made good use of it as a weapon. It served as a warning when orcs were near, it worked to threaten and tame Gollum, but he never actually used it to harm any of their enemies. And then he used it to betray Sam and, he realizes now, to betray himself, their quest, the faint hope that Gandalf and all the others had placed in him.
“Useless,” he mutters, and the man’s hand moves up and down his right arm again, probably trying to soothe. Frodo awoke in this position, spread uncomfortably on a full sized horse, pressed against an unseen man at his back. The man holds Frodo close with one arm clasped around his chest, grasping the reins with the other. Frodo’s hands are bound together in front of him. He’s tried to turn to glimpse the man’s face, but the hold tightens whenever Frodo tries to move. The horse jerks up and down and Frodo aches all over, but especially on the right side of his face, and the middle of his top lip, where he can taste blood, and on the left side of his chest (his heart, he thinks with a wild kind of amusement) -- places where he supposes he was hit especially hard. He concentrates on the horse’s rhythm and tries to immerse himself in the physical pain. It hurts places in him, and it hurts as nothing has hurt since the troll’s spear in Moria, but there is a straightforward cause to it, and there is a limit to it. He can imagine this pain might lessen over time.
The shame, the loss, the certainty of his failure is a different feeling altogether. It is absolute, overwhelming, and, he is sure, permanent. He tongues his swollen lip and tries to recall the punches instead.
Or tries to imagine what it might feel like if they were to turn the sword on him. If they were to lose patience with his struggling and his resistance, and simply stab into his heart and end it. He is fairly certain this is what they did to Gollum, at Osgiliath, after Frodo passed out. Perhaps what Frodo himself should have done to him much earlier. For what is the use in mercy, or compassion, or friendship even, when your enemy is the kind that can take hold of anyone? Frodo dared to trust the disgusting creature that certainly planned to take the Ring from him, but in the end he was defeated by this handsome, seemingly rational and kind man.
It could have been anyone though, Frodo muses; given enough time and the growing desire for the Ring he believes even Sam might have tried to betray him. Or Frodo himself…
He feels the vibration of the man's chest behind him, looks around and knows that several of the men are shouting to each other, but he cannot seem to make out any of their words, or to care very much. He is powerless here, so what good will it do him to know what is going on?
The horses are slowing, then stopped, and Frodo is lifted around his arms, off the horse and onto the ground. Although he is set down on his feet, there is no strength in his legs and he immediately drops to his knees. With his hands still bound, he is off balance and toppling forward, unable to steady himself, but he is caught before he falls completely. He is held, he is embraced; and the pressure intensifies the pain in his chest, but it is a good pain, immediate and grounding. There are more vibrations, and sounds, and a face close to his, and there is warmth and support. But Frodo still doesn't comprehend words or identify faces. The world around him doesn't quite spin, but it does seem to tilt and rock for some moments, and Frodo leans into the arms that hold him, and waits for the world to still.
"Mr. Frodo?"
What is it? The sun is low in the sky but still too bright, and Frodo can't see properly. The earth though is steady at last. Frodo is still kneeling on the ground and so is the hobbit facing him, but the earth may as well swallow them up. Frodo has regained his balance and he squirms.
"Mr. Frodo, can you stand up? This isn't a good place, we'll just…"
The voice goes on talking and the arms loosen but don't let go, and soon he is being pulled up and onto his feet again. He wants to hit out, forgetting his hands are still tied, and he nearly loses his balance yet again, but this time the hand only catches his shoulder to steady him, and waits.
"That's all right, Mr. Frodo, it's only your Sam. Now, do you think you can walk over to this hillock with me and we'll have a bite to eat, before they load us back on them horses again?"
There is too much that needs to be said to Sam, a level of betrayal and regret that Frodo cannot possibly express. And anyway he can barely speak at the moment. He opens his mouth to apologize, but what come out is a half-croak, half-sob, and the words, "It's gone."
Ah, the shame is overwhelming, and he loses his bearings again for a bit, loses the ability to make out Sam's chatter, but lets himself be led a few yards away, and sits down with Sam on the hillock and does not weep. The words continue, and something is pressed into his hands. And even though they are still bound together Sam shows him that he can lift them to his mouth, and tear off a bite of whatever it is (tough, salty), and chew. Pain pulses on his face.
Frodo hears: "get a few bites of that…fresh water they gave us…asked them if I could undo the bonds on your poor hands, but they said…" He thinks that Sam sounds resigned but awkward. Frodo swallows the dried meat. "…only stopped to make sure you were all right, because Mr. Faramir was worried you'd faint again. But it's not far now at all."
Frodo's heart is racing at the mention of the name. And Faramir must be nearby, would not have let Frodo out of his sight. But Frodo tries not look around for him, tries to concentrate on what is important.
"...Get to Minas Tirith by sundown," Sam is saying, "and after that…"
"The quest, Sam," says Frodo. "We didn't -- I mean, we were meant to take it to Mordor, and in secret. I don't know how we could get it back now, and even if we did, there's no chance of our staying hidden now. And we've no guide, for he killed Sméagol, didn't he? We -- "
"Well, we didn't make it to Mordor, that's one way of looking at it," Sam interrupts. But Sam does not interrupt Frodo. Or at least, he never has, but things have changed now, Frodo understands at once. "But another way is, we weren't likely to make it anyway, seeing as we didn't know the way, and that Stinker had it in mind to throttle us while we slept." Sam lays his hand on Frodo's shoulder again, and Frodo flinches, but he does not attempt to move away. "You can say we didn't finish the quest, but you could also say we finished our part in it, and now it's Mr. Faramir's turn." Sam pauses; Frodo tenses. "Let the men fight the battles," Sam continues, "and let you and me get some rest, and let you get healthy again, and see about getting home."
"And what do you mean by that?" Frodo snaps, distantly surprised at how much more easily the words flow when they are spoken in anger. "'Let me get healthy again'? What exactly is thought to be wrong with me?" He knows, of course he knows what they think, but some twisted part of him wants to hear Sam voice the accusations: You're mad, Mr. Frodo. You tried to hurt me, Mr. Frodo. You were weak, Mr. Frodo, and you let the Ring take over you. You'd never have made it to Mount Doom, Mr. Frodo, the Ring wouldn't have let you destroy it.
But Sam says none of these things, perhaps because, even as Frodo sits on the ground with his hands tied and his body nearly too weak to eat, even surrounded by armed men, Sam is still afraid of him.
Instead Sam answers, "Now, Mr. Frodo, you know I don't mean anything against you. I'm only saying, we can be done with it now, and that doesn't have to be such a terrible thing."
It does have to be, Frodo knows; there is no possible way things can cease to be terrible now. But Frodo doesn't feel up to explaining it, and Sam doesn't seem much interested in listening. Frodo finishes the food, drinks the water that Sam presses into his hands next, and allows himself to be lifted back onto the horse.
Get to Minas Tirith by sundown, he thinks, and after that… but he can't remember what is meant to come next.
next part | series tag | fic index
Title: Not Yourself, Chapter 1/11 (probably)
Author: Sophinisba Solis
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Gen AU following mostly movie-verse. Faramir takes the Ring and means to save Frodo from madness.
Beta: Thank you,
claudia603!! Readers, if you see a problem we missed, please drop me a line!Disclaimer: Of course, of course, I don't own these characters or their setting, and I make no money by writing about them.
Warnings: Kinda dark, some off-screen violence, no happy ending. More extensive intro, summary, warnings and author's notes here, hidden for the benefit of those who prefer to be startled.
1.
They’ve taken away his sword, of course. That was the first thing, back at Osgiliath. They took away the sword even before they took the Ring. Knocked it out of his hand and pushed him back against a broken stone wall, and Frodo was barely aware of Sam staggering away, clutching at his throat but still staring back at Frodo with an expression Frodo was too preoccupied at the time to try to interpret. As Frodo continued to struggle, the men pushed harder, then in frustration began to strike him. And Frodo thought he heard Sam give a shout of protest before the grey shapes around him lost form and faded to nothingness.
Frodo understands them taking away Sting and reflects that he never really made good use of it as a weapon. It served as a warning when orcs were near, it worked to threaten and tame Gollum, but he never actually used it to harm any of their enemies. And then he used it to betray Sam and, he realizes now, to betray himself, their quest, the faint hope that Gandalf and all the others had placed in him.
“Useless,” he mutters, and the man’s hand moves up and down his right arm again, probably trying to soothe. Frodo awoke in this position, spread uncomfortably on a full sized horse, pressed against an unseen man at his back. The man holds Frodo close with one arm clasped around his chest, grasping the reins with the other. Frodo’s hands are bound together in front of him. He’s tried to turn to glimpse the man’s face, but the hold tightens whenever Frodo tries to move. The horse jerks up and down and Frodo aches all over, but especially on the right side of his face, and the middle of his top lip, where he can taste blood, and on the left side of his chest (his heart, he thinks with a wild kind of amusement) -- places where he supposes he was hit especially hard. He concentrates on the horse’s rhythm and tries to immerse himself in the physical pain. It hurts places in him, and it hurts as nothing has hurt since the troll’s spear in Moria, but there is a straightforward cause to it, and there is a limit to it. He can imagine this pain might lessen over time.
The shame, the loss, the certainty of his failure is a different feeling altogether. It is absolute, overwhelming, and, he is sure, permanent. He tongues his swollen lip and tries to recall the punches instead.
Or tries to imagine what it might feel like if they were to turn the sword on him. If they were to lose patience with his struggling and his resistance, and simply stab into his heart and end it. He is fairly certain this is what they did to Gollum, at Osgiliath, after Frodo passed out. Perhaps what Frodo himself should have done to him much earlier. For what is the use in mercy, or compassion, or friendship even, when your enemy is the kind that can take hold of anyone? Frodo dared to trust the disgusting creature that certainly planned to take the Ring from him, but in the end he was defeated by this handsome, seemingly rational and kind man.
It could have been anyone though, Frodo muses; given enough time and the growing desire for the Ring he believes even Sam might have tried to betray him. Or Frodo himself…
He feels the vibration of the man's chest behind him, looks around and knows that several of the men are shouting to each other, but he cannot seem to make out any of their words, or to care very much. He is powerless here, so what good will it do him to know what is going on?
The horses are slowing, then stopped, and Frodo is lifted around his arms, off the horse and onto the ground. Although he is set down on his feet, there is no strength in his legs and he immediately drops to his knees. With his hands still bound, he is off balance and toppling forward, unable to steady himself, but he is caught before he falls completely. He is held, he is embraced; and the pressure intensifies the pain in his chest, but it is a good pain, immediate and grounding. There are more vibrations, and sounds, and a face close to his, and there is warmth and support. But Frodo still doesn't comprehend words or identify faces. The world around him doesn't quite spin, but it does seem to tilt and rock for some moments, and Frodo leans into the arms that hold him, and waits for the world to still.
"Mr. Frodo?"
What is it? The sun is low in the sky but still too bright, and Frodo can't see properly. The earth though is steady at last. Frodo is still kneeling on the ground and so is the hobbit facing him, but the earth may as well swallow them up. Frodo has regained his balance and he squirms.
"Mr. Frodo, can you stand up? This isn't a good place, we'll just…"
The voice goes on talking and the arms loosen but don't let go, and soon he is being pulled up and onto his feet again. He wants to hit out, forgetting his hands are still tied, and he nearly loses his balance yet again, but this time the hand only catches his shoulder to steady him, and waits.
"That's all right, Mr. Frodo, it's only your Sam. Now, do you think you can walk over to this hillock with me and we'll have a bite to eat, before they load us back on them horses again?"
There is too much that needs to be said to Sam, a level of betrayal and regret that Frodo cannot possibly express. And anyway he can barely speak at the moment. He opens his mouth to apologize, but what come out is a half-croak, half-sob, and the words, "It's gone."
Ah, the shame is overwhelming, and he loses his bearings again for a bit, loses the ability to make out Sam's chatter, but lets himself be led a few yards away, and sits down with Sam on the hillock and does not weep. The words continue, and something is pressed into his hands. And even though they are still bound together Sam shows him that he can lift them to his mouth, and tear off a bite of whatever it is (tough, salty), and chew. Pain pulses on his face.
Frodo hears: "get a few bites of that…fresh water they gave us…asked them if I could undo the bonds on your poor hands, but they said…" He thinks that Sam sounds resigned but awkward. Frodo swallows the dried meat. "…only stopped to make sure you were all right, because Mr. Faramir was worried you'd faint again. But it's not far now at all."
Frodo's heart is racing at the mention of the name. And Faramir must be nearby, would not have let Frodo out of his sight. But Frodo tries not look around for him, tries to concentrate on what is important.
"...Get to Minas Tirith by sundown," Sam is saying, "and after that…"
"The quest, Sam," says Frodo. "We didn't -- I mean, we were meant to take it to Mordor, and in secret. I don't know how we could get it back now, and even if we did, there's no chance of our staying hidden now. And we've no guide, for he killed Sméagol, didn't he? We -- "
"Well, we didn't make it to Mordor, that's one way of looking at it," Sam interrupts. But Sam does not interrupt Frodo. Or at least, he never has, but things have changed now, Frodo understands at once. "But another way is, we weren't likely to make it anyway, seeing as we didn't know the way, and that Stinker had it in mind to throttle us while we slept." Sam lays his hand on Frodo's shoulder again, and Frodo flinches, but he does not attempt to move away. "You can say we didn't finish the quest, but you could also say we finished our part in it, and now it's Mr. Faramir's turn." Sam pauses; Frodo tenses. "Let the men fight the battles," Sam continues, "and let you and me get some rest, and let you get healthy again, and see about getting home."
"And what do you mean by that?" Frodo snaps, distantly surprised at how much more easily the words flow when they are spoken in anger. "'Let me get healthy again'? What exactly is thought to be wrong with me?" He knows, of course he knows what they think, but some twisted part of him wants to hear Sam voice the accusations: You're mad, Mr. Frodo. You tried to hurt me, Mr. Frodo. You were weak, Mr. Frodo, and you let the Ring take over you. You'd never have made it to Mount Doom, Mr. Frodo, the Ring wouldn't have let you destroy it.
But Sam says none of these things, perhaps because, even as Frodo sits on the ground with his hands tied and his body nearly too weak to eat, even surrounded by armed men, Sam is still afraid of him.
Instead Sam answers, "Now, Mr. Frodo, you know I don't mean anything against you. I'm only saying, we can be done with it now, and that doesn't have to be such a terrible thing."
It does have to be, Frodo knows; there is no possible way things can cease to be terrible now. But Frodo doesn't feel up to explaining it, and Sam doesn't seem much interested in listening. Frodo finishes the food, drinks the water that Sam presses into his hands next, and allows himself to be lifted back onto the horse.
Get to Minas Tirith by sundown, he thinks, and after that… but he can't remember what is meant to come next.
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