A/N: I do not own any of these characters except the named orcs, those are
mine. All the rest belong to J.R.R. Tolkien.
Also, this is my very first fanfiction, so I really would like to know how I'm doing and whether I should continue or not. All suggestions are welcome.
* * *
Chapter 1
Frodo felt a terrible burning sensation in his throat. He awoke. Immediately he noticed the terrible aching pain throughout all his limbs and the pounding of his head. A groan escaped his lips. He felt weak and sick all over and there was a strange burning pain on the back of his neck. He had not even the strength to open his eyes.
He felt a cold hand clutch him cruelly tight on the arm and jerk him. The pounding in his head increased and he cried out.
Frodo's eyes snapped open.
The first thing he saw once his eyes had focused sent a shock of pure terror through him. He was being held by the arm by a huge, hideous black orc who leered over him, bearing yellow fangs. Its grip was fiercely strong. It held a flask of some burning liquid that had just been deposited down his throat. Many more orcs stood round them, fingering their knives.
"Ah, so the little maggot finally awoke now, did he?" sneered the one that held him, leaning in ever closer. Frodo struggled a little, but the orc only held him still tighter, twisting his arm and laughing at Frodo's pitiful attempt to free himself. "Musn't wear yourself out, little one, oh no." It said. "You must save your strength for all the fun that will come later on." Frodo stopped struggling and hung limp in the orc's grasp. He could do nothing to prevent it, he had no more strength, he felt so small and frightened. How had he gotten here? His mind was a whirl of confused and frightened thoughts. What could have happened to him? He tried to think, but the orc shook him again, causing a blinding pain to shoot through Frodo's head and he cried out.
The orcs chuckled evilly and muttered amongst each other in their terrible language. Suddenly the orc that held Frodo, who seemed to be the one in charge, said sharply in the Common Tongue, "Strip him."
Before Frodo knew what was happening, many more pairs of iron-strong hands gripped at him from every angle. They tore at him, pulling, yanking, pinching; their nails digging into his flesh until he bled. For several terrifying moments all he could see were orc faces, looming in at every angle, all he could feel were those hands, groping, grabbing, tearing. He trembled, petrified, as the many hands began ripping at his clothes, his hair, everything. But the orcs' attack had awoken a sudden spark of energy within Frodo and he tried desperately to free himself. He struggled against them with all the strength his aching body could muster, pushing their groping hands away. "Let go! Let go of me!" he cried, but his voice only came out in a frightened squeak, causing the orcs to laugh. But Frodo continued to struggle despite his rapidly declining strength.
But the orcs had quickly become aggravated by the hobbit's struggling; they hadn't expected him to have enough strength to fight back at all. Shelob's victims were usually left extremely weak, even after reawakening.
One of the orcs quickly grabbed hold of Frodo's flailing arms, and pulled them behind his back while another backhanded him across the face. "Stop your wiggling, you imp, or I might have to start the fun early!" But Frodo was deaf to the orc's threats, his only thought was to escape. Escape those terrifying hands grabbing at him from everywhere. He tried to struggle out of the it's grasp but the orc, clearly annoyed, twisted Frodo's arms behind his back until he let out a tormented yell. It then held Frodo's arms in place, so all he could think about was the stabbing pain in his shoulders. Frodo closed his eyes tight and willed it all to end. He felt completely helpless as the others proceeded in taking everything he had.
All of a sudden it stopped. The orcs let go and Frodo was thrown roughly on the ground, cold, naked and in pain. But before he could even regain his senses a strong hand gripped the back of his dark curls, forcing his face upwards. He could feel hot breath on his cheeks but he did not open his eyes. He did not want to face the pain of reality.
"Look at me you rat!" the orc shouted, and it pulled Frodo's head back further until he whimpered from the pain and reluctantly opened his eyes.
An orc, the same that had gripped him before, grinned evilly down at him. The orc began speaking, his grip on Frodo's hair never loosening. "Now you be quiet and behave yourself and things will go a lot easier for you, understand? Because we got ways of making you be quiet that you won't like." The orc pulled Frodo's head back even further until he let out a cry.
"Gugruk," growled one of the other orcs, looking up from where he and the others had been tearing through the bundles of Frodo's belongings. The Ring! Frodo thought. They'll have gotten it! Oh, all is hopeless now! He moaned with despair. "Stop playing around, we'll have our fun later." The orc said.
"Shut your trap, Ushnukh, or I'll have you reported!" retorted Gugruk. Then he turned again to Frodo. "Now I'll be back soon enough, and then the real fun will begin." Gugruk grinned down at him, once again showing those hideous fangs. Frodo cringed. Gugruk chuckled, still gripping Frodo's hair.
Frodo's breath came in great, terrified gasps and his eyes began watering from the pain. All he could see were those wicked yellow eyes squinting mercilessly down at him.
Gugruk laughed again, seeming pleased with himself, and let Frodo go, who collapsed weakly on the floor. Then Gugruk shuffled off after the others who had already left in a flurry of muttering and cursing.
A/N: Thank you for reading and please R&R and tell me what you thought!
~AC~
Also, this is my very first fanfiction, so I really would like to know how I'm doing and whether I should continue or not. All suggestions are welcome.
* * *
Chapter 1
Frodo felt a terrible burning sensation in his throat. He awoke. Immediately he noticed the terrible aching pain throughout all his limbs and the pounding of his head. A groan escaped his lips. He felt weak and sick all over and there was a strange burning pain on the back of his neck. He had not even the strength to open his eyes.
He felt a cold hand clutch him cruelly tight on the arm and jerk him. The pounding in his head increased and he cried out.
Frodo's eyes snapped open.
The first thing he saw once his eyes had focused sent a shock of pure terror through him. He was being held by the arm by a huge, hideous black orc who leered over him, bearing yellow fangs. Its grip was fiercely strong. It held a flask of some burning liquid that had just been deposited down his throat. Many more orcs stood round them, fingering their knives.
"Ah, so the little maggot finally awoke now, did he?" sneered the one that held him, leaning in ever closer. Frodo struggled a little, but the orc only held him still tighter, twisting his arm and laughing at Frodo's pitiful attempt to free himself. "Musn't wear yourself out, little one, oh no." It said. "You must save your strength for all the fun that will come later on." Frodo stopped struggling and hung limp in the orc's grasp. He could do nothing to prevent it, he had no more strength, he felt so small and frightened. How had he gotten here? His mind was a whirl of confused and frightened thoughts. What could have happened to him? He tried to think, but the orc shook him again, causing a blinding pain to shoot through Frodo's head and he cried out.
The orcs chuckled evilly and muttered amongst each other in their terrible language. Suddenly the orc that held Frodo, who seemed to be the one in charge, said sharply in the Common Tongue, "Strip him."
Before Frodo knew what was happening, many more pairs of iron-strong hands gripped at him from every angle. They tore at him, pulling, yanking, pinching; their nails digging into his flesh until he bled. For several terrifying moments all he could see were orc faces, looming in at every angle, all he could feel were those hands, groping, grabbing, tearing. He trembled, petrified, as the many hands began ripping at his clothes, his hair, everything. But the orcs' attack had awoken a sudden spark of energy within Frodo and he tried desperately to free himself. He struggled against them with all the strength his aching body could muster, pushing their groping hands away. "Let go! Let go of me!" he cried, but his voice only came out in a frightened squeak, causing the orcs to laugh. But Frodo continued to struggle despite his rapidly declining strength.
But the orcs had quickly become aggravated by the hobbit's struggling; they hadn't expected him to have enough strength to fight back at all. Shelob's victims were usually left extremely weak, even after reawakening.
One of the orcs quickly grabbed hold of Frodo's flailing arms, and pulled them behind his back while another backhanded him across the face. "Stop your wiggling, you imp, or I might have to start the fun early!" But Frodo was deaf to the orc's threats, his only thought was to escape. Escape those terrifying hands grabbing at him from everywhere. He tried to struggle out of the it's grasp but the orc, clearly annoyed, twisted Frodo's arms behind his back until he let out a tormented yell. It then held Frodo's arms in place, so all he could think about was the stabbing pain in his shoulders. Frodo closed his eyes tight and willed it all to end. He felt completely helpless as the others proceeded in taking everything he had.
All of a sudden it stopped. The orcs let go and Frodo was thrown roughly on the ground, cold, naked and in pain. But before he could even regain his senses a strong hand gripped the back of his dark curls, forcing his face upwards. He could feel hot breath on his cheeks but he did not open his eyes. He did not want to face the pain of reality.
"Look at me you rat!" the orc shouted, and it pulled Frodo's head back further until he whimpered from the pain and reluctantly opened his eyes.
An orc, the same that had gripped him before, grinned evilly down at him. The orc began speaking, his grip on Frodo's hair never loosening. "Now you be quiet and behave yourself and things will go a lot easier for you, understand? Because we got ways of making you be quiet that you won't like." The orc pulled Frodo's head back even further until he let out a cry.
"Gugruk," growled one of the other orcs, looking up from where he and the others had been tearing through the bundles of Frodo's belongings. The Ring! Frodo thought. They'll have gotten it! Oh, all is hopeless now! He moaned with despair. "Stop playing around, we'll have our fun later." The orc said.
"Shut your trap, Ushnukh, or I'll have you reported!" retorted Gugruk. Then he turned again to Frodo. "Now I'll be back soon enough, and then the real fun will begin." Gugruk grinned down at him, once again showing those hideous fangs. Frodo cringed. Gugruk chuckled, still gripping Frodo's hair.
Frodo's breath came in great, terrified gasps and his eyes began watering from the pain. All he could see were those wicked yellow eyes squinting mercilessly down at him.
Gugruk laughed again, seeming pleased with himself, and let Frodo go, who collapsed weakly on the floor. Then Gugruk shuffled off after the others who had already left in a flurry of muttering and cursing.
A/N: Thank you for reading and please R&R and tell me what you thought!
~AC~