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Trespasses  by Iorhael

Title: Trespasses
Summary: Frodo on Ford Bruinen, of shadows, clouds, mist, and light.
Rated: G
AN: Kisses and hugs for celandine_g for her help, again.


In his despair he leaned back hard and pressed himself into the slender but powerful arms embracing him from behind. They held fast and kept him from swaying off the horse’s back. He wanted so much to feel safe, to surrender and lose himself in the shadow, to sleep in peace.

For he had indeed been in the shadow, the dark-grey clouds hanging down and down, second-by-second, in steady notches. It only added to the damp, pawing claws of swirling mist, and together they closed in on him, turning his world bleak and deadly cold.

Frodo’s throat tightened, refusing to take in any air. The slightest sensation of warmth and safety had vanished, giving way to panic and horror as his hands and arms flailed out, legs jerking and kicking unseen foes.

Only that was not completely true--for his limbs had felt so heavy; now resting dead on warm, sandy ground. Was there really ground beneath him? He couldn't tell.

There was still no air to smooth his shrunken lungs; all he could do was gape and wheeze at some distant comfort that eluded him. Shivering shook his body as waves of coldness spread out from the Morgul wound and brought him nearly into madness. It was too much. The torment was too much.

Then suddenly a harsh voice breached Frodo’s ears, piercing deeply like a physical thrust, leaving him gasping. Through the unfamiliar language, Frodo’s tormented mind understood well what had been said.

“Surrender yourself, halfling! And your agony shall be ended.”

The threat plummeted into his mind and hacked it into pieces. Mere words but Frodo felt his insides being ripped out. He convulsed in nausea.

“You shall not be able to stand this torture. Surrender now or there shall be no mercy.”

Suddenly he heard a faint chant floating in the air. The mist and clouds lifted up on streaks of light seeping through them.

“Lasto beth nîn, tolo dan na ngalad.”

Frodo’s clouded eyes gazed wearily to the light and his lips moved slightly.

“Help me.”

He desperately wished that his ears had deceived him, for all he heard was a wretched, feeble squeak coming out of his mouth instead of his words.


~ * ~





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