Disclaimer: these characters belong to J.R.R. Tolkien. I make no money off of this. I just like to write about them.

Man of Quality

Chapter 8

The feeling was sweet and serene. Warm and gentle. He had been here before. A long time ago, being cradled in the light as he struggled against the dark foes of Mordor. After he had been stabbed by the Witch-King at Weathertop, he had witnessed the Elf maiden in her true light, calling for him to come back home. It was now his turn to guide Arwen back to the light that he had once encountered and followed.

The singing was a comfort, familiar with the soft vocals that could carry your very soul off into a world of oceans, sand and pastures forever green. Legolas had carried many a tune on their journey before they had parted in Ammon Hun. Even Aragorn had a positive effect on him as his body lay in rest, recovering after his rescue from Mount Doom.

Without warning, the ethereal connection had been broken. A throbbing pain in his head as he was jerked out of the quiet warm place, multiple cries heard above him. His body felt warm, then chilled as if running a fever, sweat breaking out on his brow. Small fingers probing beneath his night shirt, a stinging sensation across his abdomen. Opening his eyes, he saw Sam's face, tears caressing the pudgy cheeks not yet comprehending words watching his gardener's mouth move. Then Sam's hands were cupping his own sunken cheeks, brushing the hair out of his eyes.

"Mr. Frodo?" Sam peered into his master's eyes, chaffing the cold cheek with his callused hands, tears of frustration rushing over filled rims. The stout hobbit, anger in his eyes, glared at the man holding the blood tinged blade just inches away from his target, still dripping with Frodo's blood. His master on the floor, Sam jumped up toward the Ruffian. His actions were not well thought out, as the blade was still suspended in mid air, ready to strike. He tripped landing with palms down.

"Sam, NO!" Lady Eowyn yelled out as she managed to raise a skirt covered leg into the air, tripping the halfling, hoping to deflect any kind of recourse on his behalf. One of her friends down was quite enough. She did not feel like telling the King that two dear to his heart were gone.

Alphus glared at the woman daring to intervene with his revenge. He wanted them all dead, but a hand stayed his, lowering the sword from its striking position.

"That will do, Alphus. We do not want all the prisoners dead," Toulouse said sneering as he looked into the eyes of the devoted servant to the Captain's fiancé, "Not yet anyway. We would not have any kind of leverage then, now would we?" he finished, grasping the Ring-bearer up by his shoulders none too gently. Blood trailed from the inflicted wound as the semi-conscious halfling was dragged away. "Let us see how he fares knowing he was the one responsible for this halfling's slow tortured death," he yelled out onto the balcony. Ripping a tie cord from one of the many draperies, the leader tied Frodo securely to the balcony's cold stone ledge, exposing the sliced abdomen to all the flying vermin to see. "Do you hear me King Elessar! Your precious Saviour will remain out here for the crows to nibble on until I receive confirmation that my men have gone free!"

"Aragorn, Aragorn!" Legolas shook the King's shoulders, calling him back to reality.

Aragorn's eyes glistened, then his face hardened as he looked into his friends face. "They will not leave Minas Tirith alive."

Legolas knew that the Ranger did not have to ask whether he would follow. It was an understanding between them that had grown over the many years they traveled together.

Pippin sat against the wall, shocked. He was at a loss for words for the first time ever, Strider thought to himself. It was his turn to shake the halfling, giving consolation. "Pippin! Frodo will be all right. You trust me?"

Slowly, Pippin recovered, the words of "crows nibbling" still echoing in his head. When he felt a large hand shake his shoulders, he was looking into steele gray eyes. "Trust? Um...Yes, my Liege. I trust that you will rescue them all," he said managing to by-pass the lump that had formed in his throat.

"This is what we are going to do and I need you to run interference to Faramir," Aragorn said. Pippin still seemed to be in a far away place. Strider shook him harder this time, the little ones head snapping back on his neck, "Peregrin Took! Do you understand your Lord?" he said sternly to get the future Thain's undivided attention.

"Yes, My Lord," Pippin replied taking a deep breath, pulling himself together. "I am ready."

Faramir was just above the King's chambers when he heard the Ruffian yell out his demands, securing the hobbit to the balcony's ledge. He heard moaning from below, his heart going out to Frodo. He could have taken the terrorist, but he did not know where the other man was, and he did not want to endanger the other captives. He had already received the message from the guard that one of the terrorists had been killed, quite by accident, but they were unsure how many were still occupying the room. The experienced Captain did not want to take the chance and expose his position too early, but he wanted to ease the Ring-bearer's mind that he was not alone.

Sam sat worriedly against the wall, dried tears streaked his cheeks. His stomach was tied in knots not being able to see his wounded master, or for that matter what exactly the Ruffians did to him. He was furious at the Lady for tripping him, but deep down glad that she had. He figured he would have been dead and that would not have been the best way to help Frodo. He mentally told himself he had to keep his anger and fear in check.

"I am sorry Samwise," Lady Eowyn apologized. "There will be an opportunity to help Frodo, and that was not it. You can pick your battles, but that one you would not have won," she whispered down to him.

"Yes,my Lady," he whispered back, looking up into her sapphire eyes. He reached for something in his pocket while the Ruffians had their backs turned, shoving it quickly into her bound hand,"Here, for later."

Eowyn felt a porous sharp edged fragment placed into her palm, closing around it fast. She nodded to Sam, keeping her eyes totally on their captors.

A small moan captured Sam's attention, thinking it was Frodo. Concentrating on listening for his master, the moan continued, but seemed closer. Sam glanced at a movement out of the corner of his eye, spying a moving finger belonging to the Elf. The moan turned into a sigh as more movements came from Arwen. "My Lady," Sam whispered touching the Elf on her forehead as her long lashed eyelids fluttered opened.

Eowyn had thought Sam talking to her and turned when he spoke, but realized that the Queen was finally awakening. He heart leaped with relief because Arwen had been out for quite a long time, thinking that King Aragorn's wife may never recover her senses.

Arwen had taken her time coming to awareness after she felt Frodo's life force being torn from her. She smiled inwardly, aware of the faint flutter within her belly knowing the little one she carried survived through the trauma. Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes staring into green gold concerned eyes. Licking her dry lips, she felt the bump to the back of her head with long fingers, whispering "Samwise."

"Shh, do not talk. We are bein' held prisoners," the Ring-bearer's gardener warned.

"Frodo?" she asked concerned for his master's welfare.

At the mention of Frodo's name, tears welled up again and this time he could not keep them from coming. "They hurt 'im," he cried quietly, placing the Elf's head in his lap. He did not know if he should have, but it seemed to him that the Queen was most uncomfortable with her head resting on such a hard surface.

Arwen's eyes expressed understanding and her gaze left Sam's finding them looking into the Lady of Rohan's.

"How are you feeling?" Eowyn asked the Queen, bowing her head.

"I will be fine. How are you?" her voice cracking, realizing that Eowyn's hands were tied and hers were not.

"No talking!" Alphus bellowed coming around the corner from the foyer. His eyes roamed over the prisoners realizing that the Queen had awoken. "Well, I thought we had knocked you out never to return," he taunted stroking Arwen's face with his gloved hand,"I say, you did put up quite a fight."

"Leave her alone. Haven't you done enough?" Sam cried out, smacking the hand away from the delicate Elf's face.

"Well, aren't you brave," Alphus sneered looking at the unaffected hand, he continued to provoke the gardener, "If you do not want to end up beside the other hobbit, squirming in pain as his blood slowly seeps from his exposed wound attracting all sorts of vermin, I suggest you shut your trap."

Arwen's eyes bulged at the mention of Frodo's demise. She was about to get up herself when dizziness assailed her. She did not know what she would have done, but the thought of Frodo being tortured made her stomach roll.

"Stir something up, did I? Well, you just keep your pretty face down, or your King will find your head posted beside his Saviour," Alphus teased, one last stroke with his finger down her cheek before he got up laughing, leaving the prisoners feeling more helpless.

Relieved that his sensations were getting stronger, Frodo wished that he had stayed numb for a while longer. Horrible stinging pain assailed his belly, feeling rivulets of sticky ooze slide down his abdomen. It was becoming hard to breathe as the rope had been tied tightly around his bruised ribs, his breath coming in gasps. He was hot and cold at the same time and the stone did nothing for the waking ache in his back. Tears of despair fell hot on his face making him feel vulnerable, deciding this was worse than the Ring whispering falsehoods to him.

Even though it was nightfall, a shadow fell over him. His tear filled eyes looked toward the darkened area, recognizing the face of the Ruffian who had kicked him earlier.

"Hurts does it?" Alphus asked without remorse, prying none to gently the sticky skin apart, satisfied that the Ring-bearer flinched in pain.

Frodo noticed the man had a flask in his hand, uncorking it. His eyes closed as the foul breath Ruffian leaned in close, blocking the view from the rest of his aching body.

"Hmm, that must have hurt, but not enough. You see, I gave your friends the idea that you are in great pain as you were literally being picked to death. Now, let's have a scream," he hissed as the flask was tipped above Frodo's middle, emptying its cold contents onto the opened wound.

The blood curdling scream was wrenched from deep within Frodo, raising the hairs on everyone's neck that was withing hearing range.

tbc...