Title-  the Winding Stair

Author-  Sharku (wargmaster03@yahoo.com)

Pairing-  Sam/Frodo, although technically it is
Sam/Sauron, as Frodo is under the Ring's influence.

Rating-  R ... contains descriptions of non-consensual
activites and a Hobbit behaving very badly.

Disclaimer-  Tolkien's characters, not mine. If they
were mine, I'd force them to do naughty things all day
long.

Summary-  As Frodo and Sam climb the stairs to Cirith
Ungol a madness takes hold, and Frodo is not himself.

Author's Note-  I wrote this story in response to a
challenge by Emma, to write a story of hobbits
behaving badly. Hope I done you proud! This is one of
my first few attempts at LotR fanfic, so don't rip me
a new a*hole if you don't like it please. I would
appreciate any kindly-worded feedback though, whether
positive or otherwise. I know not many guys post slash
fic but I am a hopeless fan of Frodo/Sam and
Merry/Pippin, and of course anything non-consensual.
(Especially involving Grima! *snickers*) It's
something I enjoy a lot so if I don't get flamed to
death I'll keep writing.  

----

    The ring weighed heavy on Frodo's mind as he and
Sam trudged along the Morgul Vale. Since entering the
borders of this cursed land he had slowly felt his
mind slipping away from him, growing murkier by the
day, obscuring all thoughts of normal Hobbit things
and replacing them with darkness. Dark thoughts
plagued Frodo of fire and fear, and around every
corner they turned his mind imagined the slick dark
forms of Orcs slipping behind the large black rocks
that cluttered their way. And the Eye... he only had
to close his eyes for a moment to see it there,
staring at him, pulling down the weight around his
neck until it felt like a burning stone. When his eyes
were open he could feel Him near, he knew not where
exactly but Frodo could almost feel His shadow upon
him.  Sam stumbled along bravely beside him as always,
doing his best to seem unaffected as he chatted away
about sunlight and good crops, not noticing-- or not
letting on if he did-- that Frodo did not seem to
listen or hear. Now and then a rock in Frodo's path
would cause him to stumble, and without missing a
second Sam would be there to catch him, muttering
something good-naturedly like "Careful there, Mr.
Frodo!" and would immediately return to his
reminiscing. 

      Ahead no more than a few yards skulked Gollum,
hissing and muttering to himself, turning around now
and then to be sure the Hobbits were still stumbling
along behind him. His head buzzed with a static of
hatred and murderous thoughts, focused keenly on his
goal at hand.  He led them to the foot of the Stairs
of Cirith Ungol that led to Her tunnel... the Hobbits
did not wish to climb at first, but when the gates of
Minas Morgul split open to reveal a vast marching
horde of Orcs they quickly began to scramble upwards.
At last after what seemed to be several hours of slow
laborious climbing it became clear that Frodo could
proceed no more this day, so Sam sought meager shelter
on a flat landing of rock with a slight overhang
above. Still shivering at the thunder created by the
departing armies below Sam hurriedly tucked Frodo back
as far as he could into the crack made where the
overhang met the landing, wrapping his cloak around
him for extra warmth. He did not like the distant look
in his master's gaze.

    "Just get some rest now, Mr. Frodo," he said,
settling down beside him and resting his head on the
bent crook of his elbow. What I wouldn't give for a
proper pillow, thought Sam for not the first time
during their journey. 
    "Sam." Frodo was looking at him now, his face
creased in worry and concern.
    "What is it, Mr. Frodo?" 
    "Sam, I... I don't feel right anymore. I... I
think I'm losing my mind, Sam." This was nothing new
to Samwise, who had noticed the changes almost as soon
as they had entered the Black Lands.  He wrapped his
arms around Frodo then and held him bundled up against
himself. 
    "I know," he said quietly, and could think of
nothing else to say for once. He felt himself
eventually begin to nod into a half-slumber, when
Gollum's wretched shadow suddenly passed across his
face and woke him instantly. 
    "Here, what you doing?" he said groggily to the
creature. Gollum's head snapped up and he scurried
away from Sam, up to the rock above them. 
    "Nothing!" Gollum spat. "Stupid fat hobbitses,
always suspecting us!"
    Sam shook his head. Avoiding conversation with the
vile creature was always foremost on his mind so he
let the matter drop. He put a hand on Frodo's shoulder
to shake him awake, but jerked his hand back when he
realized his eyes were already open and he stared
gloomily at Sam.

    "Mr... Oh! I didn't see you awake there. Sorry Mr.
Frodo, but we best be moving on now." 

    Frodo didn't move and his gaze did not shift. For
a brief horrifying second Samwise thought him for
dead, but then his parched lips creaked out his name.
    "Sam," he said quietly, reaching out from under
the cloak to take Sam by the wrist. Any physical
contact from his master was always welcome, but for
some unknown reason Sam found himself jerking his hand
away quickly this time. Frodo's mouth tightened into a
thin line and he grabbed for Sam's wrist again, this
time locking onto it with such a firm grip that Sam
cried out.

    "What's the matter Sam?" he said in a low voice.
Sam saw those deep familiar eyes were no longer blue,
but clouded gray and he did not feel it was Frodo
looking through them.   

    "I... nothing, Mr. Frodo, you just aren't yourself
today is all. We best be..."

    Frodo leapt off the ground then, flinging Sam's
cloak away from him and toppling the Hobbit to the
landing onto his back, with Frodo straddling atop him.
Sam felt burning tears sting his eyes as he called out
his master's name. Frodo wrapped his hands firmly
around Sam's neck and began to tighten, squeeze...
until his fingertips met in the back and Sam was no
longer able to say Frodo's name, only gasp and wheeze
as he writhed helplessly on the ground. Frodo's thumbs
pressed down in the middle of Sam's neck, and the face
below him turned gray and hands clawed wildly at his
iron grip. He leaned forward then and put his mouth
over Sam's, forcing his tongue inside and kissing him
as he tried to turn his head. Frodo pulled his mouth
away and leaned back, hands still clasped about Sam's
neck, laughing malevolently. The ring slipped out of
his shirt and dangled before Sam's fading eyes,
swinging in front of him like a dancing ring of fire,
laughing at him. Frodo released him then and he choked
for air, gasping and coughing violently while Frodo
still sat atop him, staring almost thoughtfully down
at him as he recovered. In the scuffle nobody seemed
to notice Gollum perched above them on the overhang,
hands clasping his face, shaking his head in fearful
wonder at the sight below. 

    "Please, Frodo..." Sam coughed, his throat raw and
rasping. Frodo pressed his mouth over Sam's once more
then, kissing him roughly. 

    Sam was afraid of this change in his master, but
even more so he felt deeply saddened. For years he had
loved Frodo, cared for him, walked by his side. During
so many days of picnics in the Shire and evenings of
conversations by the fireside had he stared at Frodo
and longed to kiss him, to feel the soft weight of
those lips on his and those divine blue eyes staring
at him with adoration and desire. The eyes that stared
down at him now held desire indeed, but not out of
love for Sam but from a dark longing to claim him and
corrupt him. And the kisses... not what Sam had long
dreamt about, but raw painful vicious kisses that left
his lower lip bleeding. Frodo tore at Sam's shirt in
his lust-filled hunger, and Sam tried his best to
shove Frodo off of him. Not like this, Sam cried
silently to himself. Not like this. 

    "No, Frodo! Please!" He had almost succeeded in
squirming out from under his master-- he wondered at
the weight of him, as under normal circumstances Frodo
would not have been able to secure him to the ground,
much less subdue him-- when a sharp backhand across
his face sent him flopping onto his back once more,
his cheek and temple throbbing. Frodo pinned him down
with the heel of his hand on each shoulder, scowling
at him; and the glinting ring that dangled before
Sam's weeping eyes seemingly scowled at him too. 

    "Quiet, Sam!" he shouted, and his hands flew to
Sam's neck once more and tightened like a noose. Sam
sputtered and gasped under his grip, kicking his legs
and digging his heels into the rocky landing in a
feeble attempt to push away. Frodo held him firm
though, and as darkness blurred the edges of Sam's
sight he felt Frodo's sex grow hard against his
stomach where he straddled him and he could hear the
hobbit's breath panting eagerly above him as he
throttled his friend. It was at the very moment that
Sam thought unconsciousness-- or death --would pull
him under when he felt Frodo's hands release his neck
and precious air began to leak back into his lungs.
Again Frodo seemed to watch in amusement as Sam
coughed and the color slowly returned to his face. 

    "Frodo, I know you aren't yourself, I know this
isn't you..." he managed to utter before Frodo
backhanded him again. His master forced his tongue
inside his mouth once more, roughly kissing him and
biting his lip fiercely before pulling away. With one
hand he clamped down on Sam's neck and began to
squeeze, closing off Sam's airway once again, and with
the other hand he reached under himself and began to
free Sam's limp sex, squeezing it and raking his hand
along it with the same fierce intensity as the grip on
his neck. 

    Sam tried to will himself not to harden under
Frodo's hand, and in his suffering he found it was not
difficult. He felt anything but aroused. His heels
banged against the stone floor he lay on as he pulled
at Frodo's hand around his neck. Frodo merely
tightened his grip and continued his coarse stroking.
Once again as Sam neared the point of passing out he
felt the hand release his throat; and as he lay there
sputtering he felt his insides clench with horror as
Frodo leaned down to him, murmuring Sam's name softly
in his ear, kissing him gently with parched lips. He
felt Frodo's hand stroke the side of his face, turning
it to meet his own, pressing his lips again to his.
The hand between Sam's legs worked him kinder now,
stroking him tenderly and Frodo breathed softly in his
ear.

    "This is what you want, isn't it Sam?" He felt his
master's tongue slide down his neck and the hand that
held him gripped him firmer, in a pleasant way, and
Sam was aroused then in spite of himself. He almost
felt lost in the soft kisses Frodo placed on his face
and neck; he wanted so badly to melt under the deft
hand that caressed him, to give in completely to his
master, but he knew with a heavy heart that this still
was not his Frodo.
    "No!" Sam mustered all his strength and shoved
Frodo backwards as hard as he could, and with a
surprised yelp his master sprawled over backwards and
toppled to the ground. Sam climbed to his knees but
Frodo was already up off the ground, the impious flame
burning in his eyes once more.
    "Wicked Sam!" he growled, in a voice Sam hoped he
would never hear ever again as long as he lived. Frodo
lunged at him then, knocking him onto his back once
more. Sam's head struck the stone ground with a smack
and he was momentarily stunned, groaning at the dull
agony at the back of his skull. Frodo mounted him and
Sam felt the hot sting of his master's hand as it
struck his face again. Blood leaked from Sam's nose
and Frodo hit him once more. Sam's hands flew to his
face and covered it, and from behind them his muffled
cries uselessly begged Frodo to stop.

    As he hid behind his trembling hands he was
unaware that Frodo had taken the chain from around his
neck and was holding the ring clasped in his fist. The
other hand worked crudely at Sam's loins, until
finally with a sharp grinding pain Sam felt something
small and hot rammed down onto his shaft and ripped
off again. He peered through his splayed fingers in
time to see Frodo jam the ring onto his sex once more,
and in a blinding red flash Sam saw a great burning
Eye before him. As Frodo yanked the ring off of him
the vision disappeared, but in a fleeting second he
felt the grinding tightness scrape along his member
once again and the Eye leapt up before him, shaking it
seemed with a deep fell laughter. To Gollum's
terrified eyes, as he rocked back and forth above them
with his head in his hands, each time the ring was
pushed onto Sam's sex he disappeared under Frodo, then
reappeared as soon as the ring was torn off.  Sam
fought against Frodo in a delirious panic, flailing
his arms wildly; for in Sam's mind now the two had
become one, and he could no longer distinguish between
the Eye and the glimpses he caught of Frodo each time
the ring was removed from him. It was simply Him now,
leering above Sam, his dark heartbeat seeming to pound
all around them as he violated the screaming Hobbit. 

    "I see you..." a low voice laughed at him.
 
    The pain was more than he could bear. His sex had
long since gone limp, and it felt raw and bleeding. He
grabbed frantically at Frodo's hands and tried to take
hold of the chain, hoping to rip the ring from his
grasp and-- Sam realized much later when he thought
back on this day that he had fully intended to tear
the ring from Frodo's hands and hurl it over the side
of the cliff on which he lay. He hadn't cared about
losing it then, or about who would find it after. His
only care at that moment was getting the cursed thing
away from Frodo in the hopes that this would break its
hold over him. The two hobbits rolled about on the
stone landing slapping and scratching and kicking at
one another then; Sam groping madly for the chain that
held the ring, and Frodo biting and clawing at him to
keep him away. With a wordless shout Frodo bashed the
back of Sam's head down onto the stone, and Sam
released Frodo immediately, stunned. Aching and dazed,
he was barely aware of Frodo climbing off of him as he
lay there sweating and trembling in terror. Frodo
slumped his back against the overhang and slid down
until he was sitting on the ground beside Sam. Sam
rolled over onto his stomach and wept. The sight of
the Eye was fading from his mind, but the memory of
Frodo's terrible voice and the dark hand that groped
him still hung heavy in his memory. 

    "It's you, Sam." Frodo's hoarse voice broke the
stillness, slow and wary-sounding.
 
    Sam looked up at him through teary eyes. "What?"

    "I'm sorry," Frodo climbed sluggishly to his feet.
"But you can't help me anymore, Sam."

    Sam bolted upright. "You don't know what you're
saying! Mr. Frodo, I'm here for you always..."

    Frodo shook his head. "Go home," he said, quietly
but decidedly. This was still not his Frodo, Sam could
tell. Sam wailed at his master, but Frodo simply shook
him off as he gathered his things. 

    Gollum leaned down from his perch and hissed in
Frodo's ear. "You see? You see now? He is tricksy,
that one! Cannot trust the fat one! We told you, we
did! Told you he'd try to take it!"

    Sam felt rage bubble up inside him and he cocked
his fist back, releasing it to slam into the scowling
face on the rock above him. Gollum howled and blood
spurted from his nose. "Shut up, you!" he shouted at
the creature.
 
    Frodo grabbed his arm, yelling his name in a fury.
"Sam! Stop it, Sam!"

    Sam sobbed an apology as he sat down on the
landing, burying his face in his hands. Frodo stood
above him, gazing down at him unsympathetically.

    "But he's a liar!" Sam cried. "He's poisoned you
against me! This whole awful place has poisoned you
against me! Don't you see it, Mr. Frodo?"

    "No, Sam," said Frodo quietly as he gathered up
the last of his pack and hung the ring around his neck
once more. "You cannot help me now. Go home."

    And so Sam watched in abject horror as Gollum
ascended the Stairs with his master in tow, and Frodo
never once looked back. 

---

    Hours had passed, it seemed to Sam, sitting there
in his wretched bleary haze. He finally climbed
unsteadily to his feet, groaning at the throbbing
pains in his neck and groin, and the tender welts
swelling on his head and along the side of his face
from where Frodo had struck him. He had just begun
making his way down the Stairs, fresh tears welling in
his eyes, when on the distant winds he swore he heard
his master's voice. He listened hard, straining his
ears against the roar of wind and the continuous
thunder of the troops still passing below. Hearing
nothing, he was about to turn to continue his descent
when again he heard his master's voice, clearer this
time, and he was shouting in terror.  Sam choked back
the panicked urge to call out to him.

    Instead, he mounted the steps and climbed up
quickly as he could, mumbling "I'm coming Mr. Frodo!",
no longer caring about his pains or the last few
terrible hours they had spent together. He could tell
his Frodo needed him, and that was all that mattered. 

---

Finis.