A second LOTR fic by Iorhael

An AU horror/mystery. Frodo was a second too late to take the Ring off his finger when he first put it on at the Pony. Not only was the Eye able to see him but it also took a part of Frodo’s spirit hostage.

Rated: R for violence, torture, angst

Disclaimer: all belong to JRR Tolkien, the greatest writer on earth.

Warning: AU

Author’s Notes: Some lines are taken from the best movie, Fellowship of The Ring.

Chapter 1

“Baggins!” exclaimed Pippin. “Sure I know a Baggins. He’s over there, Frodo Baggins.”

Pippin’s words snapped Frodo away from fingering the golden band – The One Ring, as mentioned by Gandalf, The Grey. The wizard was one of his uncle Bilbo Baggins’ close companions apart from the elves and some men.

He didn’t mean to fondle the accursed yet tempting, simple ring, but ever since the thing came into his keeping, it had been trying to make him, to seduce him to put it on. This night, in the midst of the strange big folk of Bree and in front of his cousin Merry and his loyal servant and gardener, Sam, he would have slipped it around his chubby forefinger if not for Pippin who had unwittingly, as usual, mentioned his true name despite his warning NOT to do so at any cost. He was Mr. Underhill now, as he had told Butterbur, the innkeeper and bartender of this rather stuffy drinking place, at the counter a moment ago.

Frodo rose swiftly from the hobbit – sized stool and hurried toward the crowd that gathered around his foolish cousin.

“Pippin!” His voice was a mixture of anger, worry, and fear, especially of the scruffy-looking men.

“Steady on!” Warned Pippin, seeing that Frodo was stumbling in his direction.

Unfortunately, an outstretched booted foot caught one of Frodo’s bare heels, making him slip backward. The Ring, which was still in the hobbit’s tiny hand, slipped and flew up, whirling a moment in the air, and fell back down, right onto Frodo’s finger. Frodo disappeared at once, inviting loud, gasping breaths from the Breelanders. Pippin gasped too, eyes widening in disbelief.

“Frodo!” He hissed.

But Pippin’s cousin was no longer there. He was still crouching down, but he was surrounded by a world unfamiliar to him. Bree was dark, he realized, but this place was much darker. He felt as if he were surrounded by mist, and in a second, the hooded creatures that had been chasing him and his cousins down from the Shire were there with him. He felt himself being lifted up and a mammoth-sized, dark gate welcomed and swallowed him whole. The invisible hands that carried him up didn’t stop there. He went up and up and ---

“Aaahh!!”

A big, fiery Eye’s bright light blinded him, forcefully compelling him to shut his eyes.

“You cannot hide! I see you!”

A thundering voice almost forced his eyes open. Frodo didn’t comply, overwhelmed by terror at the possibility of seeing Sauron himself with his own eyes.

But nobody actually told him to open them.

Instead, he was dragged further, this time forward, and Frodo sensed fingers tighten at his upper arms. Frodo opened his eyes right before being thrown unceremoniously to the floor.

“No!” he protested, unclear to whom.

“Silence!”

It was that voice again. Frodo got to his knees and turned from side to side but he could see no one, not even the ones who had brought him here. He could only see a large, murky, empty, windowless room with rough, stony walls and floor. Frodo turned around and found a towering, steel door behind him that was securely locked. He didn’t remember it being opened or closed before. That alone sent shivers down his spine.

“Welcome to Barad-dur!”

Frodo gulped realizing the voice did not emerge from a living being, yet it had indeed emerged from somewhere. Frowning, Frodo scanned every corner of the room, seeing nothing but darkness. Only ---

Frodo let out a stifled cry.

Now there was something!

Preceded by a cold wind that chilled him almost to the bone, a form of enormous lumpy fog floated in the air, circling Frodo’s body, teasing him with its ice-cold groping fingers. It floated down, not really touching the ground, before settling itself across the shrinking and quivering hobbit. The fog didn’t have eyes but Frodo was overwhelmed by a feeling that it stared at him, piercing right into his soul. Frodo backed away only to find that he had been pressing himself hard against the freezing, uneven wall.

“How do you fare?” the fog asked him in a blaring voice. Frodo almost choked at the question, despite the fact that the fog didn’t have a mouth to speak with. Frodo could barely utter a squeak, but just stood there mesmerized, his mouth gaping wide. The fog raised its voice again.

“Please, do make yourself at home because you will remain here long. How long will depend upon you!”

Stay? Frodo went rigid. But before he could do anything, he felt two strong hands grabbing his wrists. A feeling of being betrayed burnt in him and he thrashed hard against the unseen hold. The next thing he felt was probably the strangest sensation he had ever experienced.

He couldn’t fight his enemy, as it was far too strong for him. He was being snatched away, with his arms held tightly behind his back. But at the same time, he also felt himself being thrust back to where he had been standing, this time without anybody or anything restraining him.

The next second, Frodo gaped so wide his eyes hurt from the strain. He – he saw himself in front of him, also gawking widely!

A clamor of laughter made both Frodos bolt in surprise.

“Allow me to introduce you to yourself, Baggins!”

The two jerked their heads in the fog’s direction.

“Ah, do not look so surprised. Of course I know who you are! You are the thief, Baggins from the Shire.”

Frodo realized then that it was talking about his uncle. But he was more curious about his ‘twin’ who was still writhing desperately.

“Do you know who he is?” asked the fog. Frodo stayed still. “He is a part of your spirit. He will help me get me back my Ring. Of course, I will need your cooperation, as well!”

Frodo squinted at the fog. Suddenly his breath caught in his throat. A part of his spirit? Did that mean that he was among the living dead now?

The fog seemed to chuckle.

“No, you are not.” Oh, so it could read minds. “You are still alive. You’re not a zombie, yet, but you will be, if you do not do what I ask.”

The fog – the evil spirit of Sauron – continued.

“I have done so many things to get my Ring back. I captured the sulking creature Gollum. I sent away orcs and Ringwraiths to trail you. But I realize that they all are not enough and cannot guarantee that my Ring will return. I have finally come to this – a method both effective and certain. I only have to hold half of you to make sure that the other half will deliver the Ring to me – quite willingly.”

As he froze to hear such an abominable plan, Frodo was feeling the Ring around his finger. The fog laughed again.

“You see, you have so many ways to bring it back to me. You may simply encounter the Ringwraiths and ask them to bring you and the Ring here. You will need to come here to regain your other half, of course. Or if you want to walk all the way to Mordor by yourself, you may, although I won’t recommend that. I want my Ring and I want it NOW!”

Frodo felt his knees wobbling. But Gandalf said it had to be destroyed---

“If it is destroyed, then you will be destroyed with it!” The fog thundered, catching Frodo’s thoughts. “I hold your other half here, Baggins. Do not forget that. The longer you delay your coming here, the weaker he will become. I will not feed him, and he will eventually fade away. You cannot imagine how to feed a spirit, can you?” It laughed maliciously. “And if you try to tell anybody about this, I will have to torment him. But one thing you must know. If he suffers, you will certainly suffer too!”

At this point, Frodo could no longer hold himself upright. His legs gave way and he collapsed, whimpering in anguish. He flailed his hand, showing that he had the Ring right here, right now.

“Take it. Take it now. But please release him. Release ME.” His voice was a mere whisper. But the fog only chuckled, bewildering Frodo.

“Oh, my dear Baggins. You may be lovely, but you are also foolish. Even you are only a spirit right now. You are not really here. Your body is still in your world and so is my Ring! I suggest that you --”

That brought Frodo back to himself, and with a speed swifter than any ponies in the Shire, Frodo reached for the Ring and yanked it off his finger. He was back at the Prancing Pony again.

TBC