Disclaimer: I don't own Lord of the Rings. Rather obvious.

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Category: Lord of the Rings
Genre: Drama/Horror/Angst
Rating: R
Summary: AU –Includes torture, rape and abuse- (Frodo/Sam.) Sam is captured in his attempt to rescue Frodo from the tower. The Ring is in danger of being discovered and the orcs want revenge.

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Bleeding Scars

Prologue: Captured

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Crack!

The sickening sound vibrated through the air. Frodo shuddered as he shielded his hands above his face, shockwaves surrounding the pain that his body had just been subjected to. He whimpered from the sting.

"I...I..." he tried to speak, his voice dry with a racked sob. "I did not..."

Snaga sneered down at the pale, trembling creature, his gruesome expression filled with a mixture of loathing and mockery. "Don't you lie to me, you littl' rat," he growled, lowering the whip towards poor Frodo's naked body and trailing the end of the whip over his drawn belly. "I heard you squealin'; squealin' out to someone, now."

Frodo closed his aching eyes. I heard someone singing to me...so beautifully...surely there can be something to cloud the evil here.

The orc gazed with his beady yellow eyes at the long, bleeding gash that was crashing over Frodo's porcelain skin, sweat smearing together with the copper blood. He reached over and traced it with a long claw. Frodo winced.

"Look 'ow you bleed, scum," he whispered coldly, leaning close to Frodo's face so that his rotten breath danced in the Hobbit's nostrils. "Look 'ow helpless you are...all alone...so very alone..."

A tear leaked out of the corner of Frodo's eye. "Leave me alone."

Snaga continued to stare at him, tracing his hands and claws over his smooth, creamy skin and combing his dark hair. "One would think you were an elf, littl' one," he said, gently trailing a finger down Frodo's neck and nestling in the nape. "Don't look like a Hobbit to me, now."

"Please..."

Smarmy fingers ran themselves into the ebony curls, stroking them and playing with them as if he were a newborn babe. Fixed gazes fastened into the clear cerulean orbs that stared back up at him, as if they were clear pools of stardust. Snaga suddenly felt a sense of power over this tiny creature, bare and defenceless before him. He moved closer.

"Don't move, now," he hissed to Frodo, who felt his heart skip a beat at the sight of the oncoming tormentor; a strange look was in his eyes. He swallowed as Snaga craned over him, and to his horror hands ran down his body and grazed along his torso, slipping into a hold over his hips so that they were being cradled.

Frodo gasped. "Stop it! Don't touch me!" He tried to sidle away but the agonising sting of the whip caused him to cry out in pain.

"So smooth..." hissed the orc as he tickled his way down over to the curly hair at the place where the Hobbit's legs and chest met together, a hungry look seeming to flash dangerously in his eyes. "Why don't I keep ya all to myself – be my own littl' toy to play with...?" He licked his black lips.

"No...no!" whispered Frodo, struggling now and attempting to kick himself away. He flushed with humiliation as he felt the orc's fingers groping at his dark, slick hair, and he shuddered. "Stop it...oh, please..."

"Stop squirmin' – just stay...still..."

"No...! Sam...ohhh, Sam..."

All at once, a loud cry, like the scream of a lion as it rushes to protect its cub, broke through the air, curdling the blood of those in the room. Snaga's eyes snapped open and he whirled around speedily, just in time to feel cold metal scrape his slimy flesh, and salty blood coated his skin. He squealed and staggered back.

Frodo stared at the attacker, feeling his heart pound with confusion. He tried to adjust his vision so he could get a better look, his chest tightening. All he could hear were the bellows and screeching of the fight that was taking place in the room. He thought that he could recognise the voice – Sam...oh, Sam – could it be? – but of course, it was impossible...Sam was dead!

"Sam...?" he croaked uncertainly. His voice sounded strangled.

A strong, clammy hand immediately wrapped itself around Frodo's mouth and nose, bringing him closer to the warm, sticky body behind him. He had no time to cry out, but kicked weakly and struggled to wrench himself away, screaming against his gag.

"Sam – Sam!" his throat tore, muffled by skin.

O, Sam – if it is you, don't let them take me, I don't want to be here – sweet Elbereth...don't let them take me!

A sharp pain struck him in the back of his head, his blue eyes rolling back as he ended up with a thud on the floor. He could hear no other sounds but fading gruff shouts and screams, disappearing into gaps and crevices as darkness overtook the room and the Hobbit's eyes.

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"FRODO!" Sam watched his master slump to the stone ground in a naked heap, and his copper eyes flashed. He tightened his already white knuckles around the hilt of Sting in fury, and leapt at Snaga, his heart burning embers of love and rage for all that he cared for – Frodo.

"You stinkin' creature!" he roared, swiping at the orc once more. "Don't you touch my master!"

Snaga sneered but scurried into the corner of the hold, remembering to keep well away from the shiny, painful weapon. His yellow peepers eyed Sam up and down, taking in everything that he could see. "What've we got 'ere, then?" he said, in a voice as oily as his skin. "Come to save the tiny 'elf then, 'ave ya?"

The brown eyes scowled. "I have – and you'd better stay well good away from him if you know what's good for you."

Snaga growled.

In dismay, Sam spotted the unconscious body of Frodo lying there on the hard stone, his skin coloured by bruises and cruel scars of crimson that criss-crossed his arms and back. His master's face was blotted with tear stains and sweat, his naked body visible. Sam fumed, trying to hold back tears, and moved closer towards Snaga with Sting pointing directly at his chest.

"Look what you done to him, you monster! He's bleedin'!"

His only response was a bitter, high-pitched squeal of a laugh as Snaga looked down at the small Hobbit that was speaking to him in such a way; with so much power and determination. He wished to be treated as a threat – when really it was just pathetic for Snaga's sight.

"That scum ain't answering when it's supposed to," he told him with a wry smile. "Says 'e knows nothin' – well, that weren't good enough...'e knows a great deal more than 'e'd like me to think he does, now, and if 'e can't do a simple thing like that – then he can bleed like the sewer rat 'e is!"

This was all too much for Sam. What? Let his beloved Frodo be subjected to such pain and torment, just because his brave heart refused to give away any information? That his beautiful, snow-white skin be churned black and blue because he was willing to protect all of Middle – Earth?

It just ain't right!

"Damn you!" Sam screamed, leaping forward, grabbing the orc by the shoulders and withdrawing Sting in a flash, holding him to the ground in a forensic battle. Claws, teeth and fists were delivered in a whirlwind, blisters forming along with fresh bruises.

Snaga struck out and Sting went clattering to the floor. Harsh breaths tore at Sam's throat as he stared down at his hand – a cut bleeding across his brown skin. He stared desperately at his weapon lying there on the ground, and in a rush he went to grab it.

"No, ya don't – littl' filth!" screeched Snaga, and he threw himself forward, grabbing onto Sam's ankle and attempting to haul him back into the struggle.

"Get your stinkin' hands off me!" ordered Sam, kicking out with his free foot in an effort to free himself from the orc's clutches. He made one last effort to reach Sting before he was dragged away from it and found himself beneath Snaga.

"Intruder! Intruder!" the orc howled, holding down Sam's arms and wrists to the ground as he squirmed.

Pattering, clomping footsteps came next on the rungs of the old ladder, rushing towards the scene. Sam heard snarls and mutters before he felt stronger, clammy hands hold him down further to the floor, making it almost impossible to move.

"Let me go, or I'll 'ave you!" he threatened, but his courageous threat seemed drowned in their ears as they whispered and bickered amongst themselves. One of the orcs spotted Sting lying not too far away and went over to it, scooping it up in it's greedy palms.

"Oy, that's Mr. Frodo's, there!" Sam yelled angrily. "Leave it alone!"

At these words, Sam remembered his beaten master and turned to look at him lying in the corner, blood oozing from his whip wheals; his eyelids fluttered shut. He looked peaceful from a distance away, but his expression clearly showed pain.

Oh, Frodo...Frodo...how could I let them do this to you? I'm so sorry, Frodo...please forgive me – please forgive your Sam...

Snaga and another orc made their way over to Frodo and slipped their hands underneath his arms and back, hoisting him up into a sitting position. Frodo's head lolled about a little on his neck. Snaga eagerly brushed Frodo's fringe of chocolate locks from his eyes, the hungry expression back again.

"Stop it," Sam growled, noticing the look and delivering his threat only to Snaga.

"Better give 'im some o' that draught," brought up the other orc, who was dragging Frodo to the wall. "That should wake the rodent up."

Snaga nodded but made no reply. He was still eyeing Frodo's most private areas with his beady, cruel eyes. He licked his lips again and followed his helper. "Sure thing, Sharbag," he murmured sinisterly, stroking Frodo's shoulder with a claw. "'Ow bout you go get some, eh? I'll...watch over this one while yer gone – "

"NO!" Sam cried out, spotting the body language and struggling desperately beneath the weight of the other orcs, the only thing in his mind of Frodo and that greasy orc touching his body. The idea of Snaga doing things to Frodo in the tower caused his skin to crawl – it was practically killing him inside! "Don't touch him – stop it!"

They laughed.

"Shut that one up, will ya, Nazurk?" Sharbag called back to the tallest of the orcs, who seemed to have an undesirable need to hold Sam down by his neck, every now and then giving it a tiny squeeze. "'E's givin' me a thumpin' head, that one. Search 'im too, we don't want any more sharp things lyin' around."

The Hobbit froze, feeling the weight increase around his neck, the silver chain turning as cold as his blood. No – the Ring! The Ring!

Sam jolted. "N – !"

A blunt pain throbbed at the base of Sam's head and he found that they had taken his sight and his memory at that single blow. Everything blacked out and Sam felt nothing more, except that he could hear Frodo's weak and weary voice calling out to him from somewhere – as if they were in a misty fog:

"Sam...how could you...? How could you...?"

Sam had been captured.

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A/N: Sorry that it's taken me so long to write anything new, I've been through a few problems in the last month. Anyway, please tell me what you think? I've had this idea for a while now and I hope it goes well.