Disclaimer: I'm neither Tolkien nor Peter Jackson.
Note: Okay, I'm new to LOTR, so forgive me if I get stuff wrong. This fanfic is based entirely on the films and not the books. This is what would happen if Sauron captured the Fellowship and company. The major difference is that when Frodo and Sam go to cast the ring in the fires of Mount Doom, Aragorn, Arwen, Legolas, Gimli, Gandalf, Merry and Pippin run in on a lower platform of rock across a ravine, having entered Mount Doom on it's other face. The Ringwraiths have followed them, and now with the Ring so close to where it was forged, the spirit of Sauron takes physical form, energised by the one Ring. Also, neither Lurtz nor Uglúk died. They were some other uruk- hai, right? O_o
There are lots of lines from the films in here, but I'm not trying to claim them for my own. I'm just paying homage to them.
Well, here goes.
"Frodo, cast it into the fire!" Gandalf the White shouted up at the young hobbit, his elderly face intense and taught.
Frodo Baggins rolled the golden ring between his thumb and forefinger. A wisp of flame from the chasm below passed it, and the Black Speech markings resurfaced. Frodo could not read the language of Mordor, but he knew very well what it said.
There was a screech from below.
Sam pointed wildly, "Look, Mister Frodo!"
Nine black figures, wrapped in dull robes and brandishing steel swords, had charged into the mountain's interior, onto the lower platform. They screeched and screamed as they attacked Frodo's friends. The Ringwraiths were even bolder now than they were normally, fearing the One Ring was about to be lost. Gandalf, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli and Arwen drew their own blades and fought back whilst Merry and Pippin back off warily.
"What are you waiting for, Mister Frodo?" Sam asked, "Get rid of it! Help them!"
Even as he spoke, Arwen gasped as the point of a Ringwraith sword plunged into her shoulder. It was only a minor cut, but the Ringwraith prepared to strike again.
Aragorn's weapon slashed at its cloak, and it howled in rage. But there was nothing within the robe for Aragorn to cut, and it lunged forward, leading its comrades into battle.
Gandalf stood calmly in the way of the Nine, and he spoke to them as if they were harmless rather than the opposite, "I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the Flame of Anor. The Dark Lord will not avail you, Kings of Witches!"
With that, the end of his staff burst into blue flame. The Nazgûl were consumed by the lilac fire, and they fled screaming from Mount Doom.
"Most impressive, Gandalf the White".
The voice was a roar, a bellow from another time and age. It seemed to be coming form the cracks below, from which fire blew in angry red waves. It began to rise in a whirling vortex of lethal energy.
"But not enough".
Gandalf watched it in fear, then looked up at Frodo, "Now, quickly!"
Frodo blinked.
"Now!" the wizard ordered.
The young hobbit threw the Ring. It somersaulted away, over the edge of the rocky precipice.
"Too late now. Far too late", the voice sneered.
From the tornado of flames a hand was formed. It seized the falling Ring and continued its advance.
It dawned on the hobbits the identity of the spirit forming before them, as their companions knew very well what it was beforehand. As the torrent of flickering rage reached the platform on which Frodo and Sam watched, it began to take a monstrous shape.
Suddenly, the fire ceased burning. Where it had been stood something far more dangerous. It was barely a few feet away from Frodo and Sam, and facing in their direction.
It was humanoid in form, but much greater, twice as large as the tallest man. A billowing black cape only emphasised this. Dull-grey armour encased the creature, with large spikes protruding in various places. In its right hand it gripped a huge mace.
But it was the head that captured Frodo's attention. The silver helmet was monstrous and twisted, as large as him. Six horns rose off the top. Two small black shields covered lidless eyes, wreathed in flame.
Sauron, the Dark Lord of Mordor, laughed. It shook the cavern, causing rocks to crumble and fall into the fires below and filling those around him with fear. He held the Ring in his thick fingers, gloating harshly.
"You have returned to the hand of your Master", he hissed.
The fires of Mount Doom seemed to burn with an even greater intensity. From the distant outside, there were the triumphant screams of the Nazgûl. A low chanting came from the Ring as it neared Sauron's finger;
"Ash nazg durbatulûk,
ash nazg gimbatulûk,
ash nazg thrakatulûk agh
burzum-ishi krimpatul!"
But the Ring never reached the finger.
There was a twang, followed by a whistling. An arrow, fired by the precision-minded Legolas, stuck into Sauron's finger, who roared in surprise and fury as he the Ring fell from his grasp, onto the stone floor.
Sauron yanked the arrow out and snapped it. He wheeled about, facing the elf and his companions, then charged forward and leapt clean across the ravine, crashing down before them. The mace swung in his huge hands. Legolas flew backwards with a cry.
"Nooo!" Gimli bellowed, and hewed his axe at the Enemy's knee.
An instant later he too lay crumpled on the floor.
Frodo and Sam watched in horror as Sauron lumbered forward, this time towards Gandalf, who thrust his staff forward. The Dark Lord was bowled over, hitting the bare rock with a crash, his robes flapping wildly.
But any thoughts of hope were quashed as Sauron leapt back up and brought his club down hard towards the wizard. An intense but brief battle followed, as Gandalf used his years of studying in the field of magic against the deadly combination of Sauron's brute strength and dark sorcery.
Aragorn, Arwen, Merry and Pippin came in to aid their friend, but they could not contend with the will of Sauron. They joined the White Wizard in a pile of crumpled bodies.
Frodo suddenly realized his one chance to end the destruction of his friends. He leapt forwards, towards the One Ring. But he was too slow.
It flew across the ravine, into the clenched hand of Sauron.
"And now", the Dark Lord laughed, "After these millennia three, it is mine once more".
He slipped the Ring onto his finger.
Note: Okay, I'm new to LOTR, so forgive me if I get stuff wrong. This fanfic is based entirely on the films and not the books. This is what would happen if Sauron captured the Fellowship and company. The major difference is that when Frodo and Sam go to cast the ring in the fires of Mount Doom, Aragorn, Arwen, Legolas, Gimli, Gandalf, Merry and Pippin run in on a lower platform of rock across a ravine, having entered Mount Doom on it's other face. The Ringwraiths have followed them, and now with the Ring so close to where it was forged, the spirit of Sauron takes physical form, energised by the one Ring. Also, neither Lurtz nor Uglúk died. They were some other uruk- hai, right? O_o
There are lots of lines from the films in here, but I'm not trying to claim them for my own. I'm just paying homage to them.
Well, here goes.
"Frodo, cast it into the fire!" Gandalf the White shouted up at the young hobbit, his elderly face intense and taught.
Frodo Baggins rolled the golden ring between his thumb and forefinger. A wisp of flame from the chasm below passed it, and the Black Speech markings resurfaced. Frodo could not read the language of Mordor, but he knew very well what it said.
There was a screech from below.
Sam pointed wildly, "Look, Mister Frodo!"
Nine black figures, wrapped in dull robes and brandishing steel swords, had charged into the mountain's interior, onto the lower platform. They screeched and screamed as they attacked Frodo's friends. The Ringwraiths were even bolder now than they were normally, fearing the One Ring was about to be lost. Gandalf, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli and Arwen drew their own blades and fought back whilst Merry and Pippin back off warily.
"What are you waiting for, Mister Frodo?" Sam asked, "Get rid of it! Help them!"
Even as he spoke, Arwen gasped as the point of a Ringwraith sword plunged into her shoulder. It was only a minor cut, but the Ringwraith prepared to strike again.
Aragorn's weapon slashed at its cloak, and it howled in rage. But there was nothing within the robe for Aragorn to cut, and it lunged forward, leading its comrades into battle.
Gandalf stood calmly in the way of the Nine, and he spoke to them as if they were harmless rather than the opposite, "I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the Flame of Anor. The Dark Lord will not avail you, Kings of Witches!"
With that, the end of his staff burst into blue flame. The Nazgûl were consumed by the lilac fire, and they fled screaming from Mount Doom.
"Most impressive, Gandalf the White".
The voice was a roar, a bellow from another time and age. It seemed to be coming form the cracks below, from which fire blew in angry red waves. It began to rise in a whirling vortex of lethal energy.
"But not enough".
Gandalf watched it in fear, then looked up at Frodo, "Now, quickly!"
Frodo blinked.
"Now!" the wizard ordered.
The young hobbit threw the Ring. It somersaulted away, over the edge of the rocky precipice.
"Too late now. Far too late", the voice sneered.
From the tornado of flames a hand was formed. It seized the falling Ring and continued its advance.
It dawned on the hobbits the identity of the spirit forming before them, as their companions knew very well what it was beforehand. As the torrent of flickering rage reached the platform on which Frodo and Sam watched, it began to take a monstrous shape.
Suddenly, the fire ceased burning. Where it had been stood something far more dangerous. It was barely a few feet away from Frodo and Sam, and facing in their direction.
It was humanoid in form, but much greater, twice as large as the tallest man. A billowing black cape only emphasised this. Dull-grey armour encased the creature, with large spikes protruding in various places. In its right hand it gripped a huge mace.
But it was the head that captured Frodo's attention. The silver helmet was monstrous and twisted, as large as him. Six horns rose off the top. Two small black shields covered lidless eyes, wreathed in flame.
Sauron, the Dark Lord of Mordor, laughed. It shook the cavern, causing rocks to crumble and fall into the fires below and filling those around him with fear. He held the Ring in his thick fingers, gloating harshly.
"You have returned to the hand of your Master", he hissed.
The fires of Mount Doom seemed to burn with an even greater intensity. From the distant outside, there were the triumphant screams of the Nazgûl. A low chanting came from the Ring as it neared Sauron's finger;
"Ash nazg durbatulûk,
ash nazg gimbatulûk,
ash nazg thrakatulûk agh
burzum-ishi krimpatul!"
But the Ring never reached the finger.
There was a twang, followed by a whistling. An arrow, fired by the precision-minded Legolas, stuck into Sauron's finger, who roared in surprise and fury as he the Ring fell from his grasp, onto the stone floor.
Sauron yanked the arrow out and snapped it. He wheeled about, facing the elf and his companions, then charged forward and leapt clean across the ravine, crashing down before them. The mace swung in his huge hands. Legolas flew backwards with a cry.
"Nooo!" Gimli bellowed, and hewed his axe at the Enemy's knee.
An instant later he too lay crumpled on the floor.
Frodo and Sam watched in horror as Sauron lumbered forward, this time towards Gandalf, who thrust his staff forward. The Dark Lord was bowled over, hitting the bare rock with a crash, his robes flapping wildly.
But any thoughts of hope were quashed as Sauron leapt back up and brought his club down hard towards the wizard. An intense but brief battle followed, as Gandalf used his years of studying in the field of magic against the deadly combination of Sauron's brute strength and dark sorcery.
Aragorn, Arwen, Merry and Pippin came in to aid their friend, but they could not contend with the will of Sauron. They joined the White Wizard in a pile of crumpled bodies.
Frodo suddenly realized his one chance to end the destruction of his friends. He leapt forwards, towards the One Ring. But he was too slow.
It flew across the ravine, into the clenched hand of Sauron.
"And now", the Dark Lord laughed, "After these millennia three, it is mine once more".
He slipped the Ring onto his finger.