Title: Bent Author: Angelwings Author’s email: agslevel4@aol.com Pairing: Frodo/Sam Summary: Hurt/comfort -- Sam rescues Frodo from his nightmares. Rating: R Warnings: descriptions of rape and torture. Disclaimer: The characters are not mine. Some scenes are taken directly from the movies. Feedback: Yes, please! I am a new writer and I need lots of help! Author’s note: ‘Sweet and sappy,’ according to my daughter. You have been warned! ‘If I fall along the way Pick me up and dust me off... Can’t you help me? I’m bent I’m so scared that I’ll never Get put back together...’ Matchbox Twenty, ‘Bent’ The acrid smell of smoke and the stink of orcs awoke Frodo with a start. He opened his eyes to see a brick wall and his bound hands. He looked down and realized that he was naked. And the Ring -- He panicked as he realized the orcs had taken the Ring. They might have already delivered it to Sauron! He quickly turned over and came face to face with one of the ugliest orcs he had ever seen. “Well, now, look at this! He’s awake! Now we can have some fun with him!” The orc picked up a whip and cracked it across Frodo’s legs. When Frodo yelped in pain, the orc laughed. He was joined by another one, even uglier. “Give him another taste of the lash!” the second orc bellowed. Frodo closed his eyes as the whip fell once, twice, three times. Red welts began to grow on his skin, and tears were forced from his eyes by the stinging of the wounds. Then came a hot poker against his chest, his buttocks, his feet. A chain was pulled tight around his neck until he thought he would pass out. But the orcs seemed to want to keep him conscious, so they always stopped short just before he fell into the oblivion he so desired. He cried out loudly so many times that his voice became hoarse. Ragged sobs followed as they continued to torture him. Then came the worst part -- He was forced onto his hands and knees and the orcs violated him with their misshapen fingers and finally with their own genitals. Frodo screamed for what seemed like forever. ‘Sam! Oh, Sam!” he thought, in agony. “Please save me, Sam!” But no one came, and the pain continued interminably...... * * * * * * Sunlight streaming through the window woke Sam slowly. Sleepily he opened his eyes, then sat up in bed. He could hear strange sounds coming from Frodo’s room next door. It almost sounded like screaming. Alarmed, Sam jumped out of bed, put on his clothing and hurried to the next room. “Mr. Frodo?” he called as he slowly opened the door. “Are you all right?” Frodo was mumbling in his sleep, tossing and turning as if he could not find a comfortable position. Suddenly he screamed again and sat up in bed, his eyes still shut. Then he fell back onto the bed. “Wake up, Mr. Frodo!” Sam cried, rushing to the bed. He shook Frodo vigorously. “Wake up! It’s just a dream!” But Frodo did not awaken, only continued to thrash about, twisting the covers around him. Sam could hardly hold onto him to shake him. Why wouldn’t Frodo wake up? Sam tried shaking him once more, but it didn’t work. He felt confused and helpless and frightened. What should he do? He had to go for help. Who could he go to? Who was the best healer? Aragorn, of course. He must go to Aragorn. He hated to leave Frodo, but he knew that he must. * * * * * * Parched throat. Cracked lips. Sunken belly. Aching muscles. Frodo trudged along, trying to ignore the discomforts of his body. Just a little farther -- if they could only go a little farther. But the mountain was steep and rocky, and they had to pick their way carefully. It was all too easy to lose their footing. The air was heavy and foul, and Frodo found it hard to breathe. He gasped, took one more step, and fell forward into the dirt. “Mr. Frodo!” Sam cried out. Frodo was not unconscious, but he couldn’t move. “Sam,” he whispered. “Help me, Sam. I can’t go any further.” His head throbbed and his feet burned. The pain was unbearable. He cried out in agony... * * * * * * “Where is the king?” Sam cried, pushing his way through the crowd in the dining hall. “I have to find the king!” He glanced around as he ran, searching for a familiar face, and finally he spotted Gandalf. “Gandalf!” he called. “I need your help!” Gandalf turned to face the young hobbit. “What is it, Sam? Where is Frodo?” “That’s just it, Mr. Gandalf. I can’t wake him. He’s having nightmares, screaming and tossing and turning, and he won’t wake up! He needs a healer, and the best one around is the king. Do you know where he is, sir?” Gandalf nodded, putting his arm around Sam. “Let us go see him.” Gandalf led Sam through a maze of corridors and into a large doorway. There sat King Elessar and his lovely elf-wife, eating a leisurely breakfast. Aragorn looked up as they entered. “What is it?” he asked quickly, seeing the distress on Sam’s face. “It’s Mr. Frodo, sir,” Sam blurted out. “He’s having nightmares, and he won’t wake up. I don’t know what’s wrong with him. Please, sir, I hate to disturb you, but could you please come and help him?” Sam’s eyes were pleading as he looked up at the king. Aragorn smiled slightly. “Of course I shall come, and also Arwen. We will see what we can do.” * * * * * * The noise was loud as the fellowship fought the orcs of Moria. Frodo was being chased by a cave troll. Those horrible, misshapen teeth, and the spit dripping from its foul mouth -- Frodo found himself with his back up against the walls of a corner, unable to run. The troll grabbed his legs and pulled. Frodo tried to catch himself on a rock. “Aragorn! Aragorn!” he cried. The troll raised his hammer, and Frodo slashed with his sword, Sting. Then Aragorn leapt up before the troll and stabbed at him with a huge spear, while Merry and Pippin threw rocks at the troll’s head. The troll swept Aragorn to the side with his hammer, and Frodo ran to help him. But the troll was still alive, and had pulled the spear out of his body. He tried to pin Frodo with the spear. Frodo ran away, but then he was caught against another corner, and the spear made contact. Frodo cried out and sank to the floor in agony. “Help me,” he tried to whisper, but only a gasp came out. The battle raged on.... * * * * * * Sam, Gandalf, Aragorn, and Arwen made their way quickly to Frodo’s room. There they found their friend still suffering, his cries piercing the silence, his face flushed as he moved back and forth on the bed. Aragorn knelt by Frodo’s side and took his hand. “He is fevered,” the king said. “Sam, bring cool wet cloths. Arwen, send for the athelas water. The wound on his shoulder is burning.” He spoke a few words in Sindarin, laying his hand on Frodo’s forehead. Gandalf stood nearby, watching. Sam and Arwen soon returned with the supplies. “Sam, bathe his forehead with the cloths.” Aragorn took the bottle of athelas water from Arwen and applied it to the old wound, touching it gently since any rough touch would set Frodo to screaming again. Frodo continued to mumble, punctuated by occasional cries, but most of what he said was unintelligible. Even though Sam trusted Aragorn’s abilities, he knew that after Weathertop Aragorn had been unable to save Frodo --Frodo’s wound had required elvish medicine. Perhaps Arwen -- no, Arwen was not a healer. “Sam!” Frodo cried suddenly, and Sam had a glimmer of hope. But to his dismay, Frodo was still talking in his sleep, not responding to Sam’s ministrations. “Why won’t he wake up?” Sam exclaimed, his voice breaking and tears forming in his eyes. “He is caught in the arnithor, the wound-fever,” Aragorn explained. “The stab of a Morgul-blade never fully heals; it can become reinfected at any time.” “Perhaps it would be wise to send for Lord Elrond,” Gandalf suggested quietly. Aragorn pondered for a moment, then agreed. “Arwen, would you send out a rider?” “Of course.” She left quickly. “How far away is he?” Sam wanted to know. “He should not be too far -- at most, two days away,” Gandalf replied. “Two days!” Sam exclaimed. “Frodo can’t last like this for two days! Can he?” Aragorn and Gandalf looked at each other, and Aragorn shook his head slowly. “We must hope for the best.” Sam felt the tears running hot down his cheeks. “Oh, Mr. Frodo!” he whispered. “Please come back to me!” * * * * * * They were coming -- five of the Nine -- and Frodo could feel his heart pounding in fear. He and his three companions drew their swords. “Go!” Frodo cried, and they ran, but the Nazgul were too fast for them. Back to back the hobbits stood as the Black Riders approached out of the darkness, brandishing their evil swords. “Back you devils!” cried Sam, his sword clashing against the enemy’s, but he was soon thrown up against the wall. Merry and Pippin also tried to protect Frodo, but they too were cast aside. Frodo dropped his sword and fell backwards onto the ground. The Ring called to him... he drew it out of his pocket and held it up, attracting the attention of the nearest Nazgul. Frodo tried to scoot away, but the Nazgul kept advancing, forcing Frodo up against the wall. Suddenly he felt an irresistible urge to put on the Ring, and he slipped it onto his finger. He disappeared from the normal world... ...but now he was part of the shadow world, and he could see the Ringwraith’s faces, no longer dark shadows covered in black hoods. No, they were men, old men, wearing crowns and shadowy white robes. Frodo held out his hand and the wraith reached for the Ring. But Frodo pulled his hand back at the last minute. In anger, the leader of the Ringwraiths stabbed Frodo with his Morgul- blade, and Frodo cried out in anguish. The blade was searing hot and frigid cold at the same time. The wound it left felt like flaming ice. Suddenly Frodo saw Aragorn leap forward with a burning torch, attacking the Ringwraiths. Frodo pulled the Ring off his finger and screamed. “Frodo!” shouted Sam, rushing to his master’s side. “Oh, Sam,” cried Frodo, “I didn’t mean to do it...” “Shhh,” Sam whispered, taking Frodo’s hand. “I know you didn’t.” Frodo screamed again, feeling as if the blade were still in his flesh..... * * * * * * Sam had been left to watch over Frodo, as Aragorn, Arwen, and Gandalf had other duties to perform. It broke Sam’s heart to see his master in such anguish. In the hours that had passed, Frodo had become much worse. His color was growing dusky, and he gasped for breath at times. “Oh, Mr. Frodo,” Sam murmured, holding Frodo’s hand as he sat beside him on the bed. “Please don’t die on me. I’ve so much to tell you yet. I never told you how I feel about you, Mr. Frodo. Maybe you already know, but I’d like to say it out loud at least once.” Sam took a deep breath and continued. “Mr. Frodo, I love you more than anything, and I can’t bear to see you suffer like this. You have to come back to me.” Frodo muttered something unintelligible. “I know you love me, too,” Sam added. “I can see it in your eyes. And I want you to know it’s all right if you don’t say anything. I just want you back, Mr. Frodo. Please come back.” Sam suddenly realized he was sobbing, and tears were streaming down his cheeks. He pressed Frodo’s hand against his face, feeling the heat from Frodo’s fever. The next moment, he heard the door open, and he quickly turned around. “Lord Elrond!” he cried in relief. Then he felt ashamed that the elven-lord had caught him crying. “I’m sorry, sir,” he said, standing up. “I was just that worried about him.” Elrond raised his hand. “It is all right, young Samwise.” “How did you get here so fast?” Sam asked curiously, wiping away the tears with his sleeve. “Gandalf said you were two days away.” “I became aware that Frodo was falling ill and needed my help, so I turned back to Gondor yesterday.” He laid his hand on Sam’s shoulder. “You can save him, you know.” Hope sprang into Sam’s heart. “How?” he asked. “I thought *you* could heal him.” Elrond shook his head. “No,” he said. “You must be the one. You are closer to him than anyone else, and he will respond to you.” “But I’ve tried!” Sam cried. “I’ve tried, Lord Elrond, and he won’t wake up.” Nodding, Elrond replied, “I know. You do need my help. But you must become closer to him than ever before. You must succor him with your body, Samwise, with your bare skin. He needs to feel the healing power.” “Take off my clothes?” Sam exclaimed incredulously. “My Lord Elrond, surely you don’t mean that!” Elrond smiled a little. “Yes, Sam. It is the only way. Frodo needs your healing touch, and he cannot get it through your clothes. Or through his, for that matter.” Sam blushed deeply. He had always been a modest young hobbit. He didn’t even want to take his clothes off to go swimming with his friends, which was why he couldn’t swim. The thought of lying naked in a bed with Mr. Frodo -- well, to be sure, he had had dreams, but he never thought they would come true. However, he was willing to do anything if he could only reach Frodo in his suffering. “I’ll do it,” he said firmly. “You are an excellent and loyal hobbit,” Elrond proclaimed. “I will now endow you with some of my healing powers.” He laid his hand on Sam’s head and spoke in Quenya. Sam didn’t know what he was saying, but he felt a tingling and warmth run through his body, and he knew that Elrond had given him power indeed. “I will go now,” Elrond said. “Do not worry. You will save him. I have foreseen it.” With that, he was gone. * * * * * * Frodo cried out again as Sam returned to his side. “Help me!” he cried. “I cannot go on! Help me!” “Shhh,” Sam whispered. “It’s all right, Mr. Frodo.” He gently pulled back the covers, then with some difficulty, due to Frodo’s convulsive tossing and turning, he managed to remove Frodo’s nightshirt. He quickly covered him again so that he would not get a chill. Now it was time to remove his own clothing. He took a deep breath, then as rapidly as possible he stripped down to his underwear and climbed into the bed beside Frodo. “Sam!” Frodo suddenly cried. “Where are you, Sam?” Startled, Sam looked to see if Frodo was awake, but his eyes were still shut tightly. “I’m here, Mr. Frodo,” Sam said, capturing the flailing arms and holding them by Frodo’s side. “I’m here to take care of you.” He gently turned the unconscious Frodo onto his side, then snuggled up against him, wrapping his arms around Frodo for warmth. On impulse, he kissed Frodo’s shoulders and the back of his neck. “I’m here,” he repeated. “I’m going to heal you. Come back to me, Frodo. I need you here. You can’t leave me like this. I love you too much to let you leave me.” Frodo had stopped crying out, but he still struggled against Sam’s embrace. Sam tried to put as much skin as possible against Frodo’s, for the maximum healing power. He had complete and utter faith in Lord Elrond. If Elrond said it would work, then it would. It might take some time, but it would happen. “Sam!” Frodo cried again, and Sam held onto him tighter. “It’s all right, Mr. Frodo,” Sam soothed him, massaging Frodo’s tense shoulders. “Your Sam is here. Be at peace, Mr. Frodo.” Frodo mumbled something, then suddenly went still. Sam froze, wondering if Frodo was dead, or if he was finally responding to his touch. Thankfully Frodo was still breathing, so he was alive. Sam waited for a long time, listening as Frodo’s breathing gradually slowed to an even pace. Joy filled Sam’s heart. His Frodo was coming back! Now, if only he would wake up... “Frodo?” Sam whispered. Then, more loudly, “Wake up, Mr. Frodo!” He held his breath as he waited. Would Frodo wake up? “Sam,” Frodo said in a low voice. Sam was afraid to look, but he forced himself to sit up and look at Frodo’s face. He could see that Frodo’s eyes, still heavy-lidded, were fluttering open at last. “Oh, Mr. Frodo,” he cried, turning Frodo to face him. “Sam,” Frodo whispered again, the blue irises and black pupils more visible now. He slowly embraced Sam, laying his head on Sam’s shoulder. “I’ve been so afraid, Sam. The dreams -- they were horrible -- and I couldn’t wake up --” Frodo shuddered, his voice breaking. “How did you save me?” he asked, sitting up in bed, glancing down at himself and realizing that he was almost naked. “Why am I naked, Sam?” he asked curiously. “And you, too.” Sam blushed. “I - I - It was Lord Elrond’s idea, Master Frodo, sir. I’m very sorry, sir. I didn’t rightly know what else to do.” Frodo smiled. “It’s all right, Sam. Don’t be embarrassed -- I’m not. I’m just thankful.” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “Did I call out to you in my sleep, Sam? In my dreams I did. Is that why you came to me?” “I would have come anyway, Mr. Frodo,” Sam replied earnestly. He climbed out of bed hastily, uncomfortably aware that he was mostly naked. The dreams were starting to come back. He blushed again as he remembered the dreams, and Frodo -- “Where are you going, Sam?” Frodo asked gently. “To get Gandalf and Strider -- I mean the king,” he corrected himself quickly. “Won’t you stay?” Frodo asked softly. “I don’t want to be all alone, Sam. They will come soon enough.” Sam had picked up his clothes and was about to put them on, but he stopped short, surprised at Frodo’s request. “Sir?” “Won’t you stay with me?” Frodo repeated. “I need you beside me, Sam. I need your comfort. Won’t you stay? Frodo’s blue eyes were pleading, and Sam’s heart melted as he gazed at his master. “Of course I’ll stay,” he replied, continuing his dressing. “Wait, Sam.” Frodo put up his hand. “Don’t -- please.” Sam stopped again, confused. “Sam, I want to feel your skin against mine,” Frodo said, not looking at Sam. “Do you mind terribly?” Sam’s heart was pounding so hard he thought it would beat right out of his chest. “N-N-No, Mr. Frodo,” he stammered, embarrassed. “I don’t mind at all.” He climbed back into bed beside Frodo, then hesitantly put his arms around his master. They snuggled close together, holding each other tightly, as if they never wanted to let go. Nose to nose they lay for a long time, until suddenly Frodo leaned a bit and kissed Sam on the lips. Startled, Sam started to shy away, but then he realized that if he refused Frodo now, he would regret it for the rest of his life. So he leaned into the kiss, feeling the searing heat of Frodo’s lips against his. When Frodo broke the kiss, Sam was startled again. “Mr. Frodo,” he murmured. Frodo laughed. “Just ‘Frodo’, Sam. You can’t be *this* close to me and call me ‘Mr. Frodo’!” Sam certainly *wanted* to be this close to Frodo, so he agreed. He kissed Frodo again, then laid Frodo’s head upon his shoulder. They fell asleep intertwined, and that’s how Gandalf found them several hours later. the end