LotR fic, my one and only
Sep. 15th, 2003 12:04 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
valarltdThe only LotR fic I have on the web. Finished a sweet/sad/loving Legolas/Gimli for heather's zine, but I think I've shot my wad for Middle Earth.
This is an alternate ending, originally written for a fantasy lit class, this was published in The Minas Tirith Evening Star some years ago. All characters property of the Tolkien estate.
*****
"Till dark lord lifts his hand"
A postulation
1991 Angel
*****
The orcs found Frodo in the lair of Shelob and carried him to Barad-Dur. Sam,
his heart pounding in his mouth, followed stealthily. He had dispatched that
stinker, Gollum, although he had not meant to. The sneak now lay in a drying
puddle of blackish blood near the mouth of the spider's cave where Sam had backed
into the rock wall to save himself. The weight of the Ring pulled at his neck
as he heard the foul folk in the tower quarrel and fight among themselves.
Exhausted by the ordeal at Cirith Ungol, he dozed.
When he awoke, there was silence. He ventured a cautious look out of the niche
he had occupied. Nothing. As he ventured further out, listening for danger, he
tried to remember where he had last heard Frodo taken. He did not see the shape
behind the door as he crossed the threshold of the tower. He was looking at the
grisly scene before him. Shargat and Gorbag had come to blows, and all their
followers with them. In the end, Gorbag's troops had won, but Sam did not know
all of this. The shape behind the door watched as a mighty figure wrapped in
grey shadow with a blinding light held forward strode into the tower.
Gorbag closed his eyes and waited a moment. The light passed and he saw another
of the little rat-folk, like the one with the pretty armor in the cell above,
begin to climb the stairs. Moving silently, he followed Sam and, halfway up the
stairs of the tower, smote him from behind. The hobbit fell to the stairs,
unconscious. Gorbag picked the hobbit up, slung him over his shoulder, and
carried him up the steps to join his comrade.
"Ho now, what's this?" he grunted, seeing the Ring fall out of Sam's jerkin.
"The Master will be glad of this." Leaving the two halflings, he locked the trap
door and left the tower.
The next day did not dawn. The siege continued at Minas Tirith. In the forest,
the Riders of Rohan and the wildmen were embattled with nazgul and other fell
beasts. And Sauron, at last, returned his precious ring to its rightful place.
In the heat of his hand, the writing appeared again. The bearers of the Three
know what had happened, becoming aware the moment he put it on.
Cirdan at the Havens turned his face west and wept for his people who would now
be destroyed before leaving for Elvenhome. Galadriel walked among the just
blooming mallorns, her hands wrapped tightly around each other, her fair face
drawn and sad. Elrond merely bowed his head in sorrow, knowing the quest had
failed and that the Enemy had been far wiser than any suspected.
The men of Gondor fought valiantly before the Witch-King and his troops, and fell
as valiantly. Peregrin was slain before the doors of the White Tower, and even
the wounded in the Houses of Healing were murdered in their beds. The Rohirrim,
much decimated, arrived too late. No living thing moved in the streets of Minas
Tirith, save orcs.
The Corsairs of Umbar, sailing up the Anduin, saw the banner of the Eye floating
over the walls. Elessar unfurled his banner, and although he slew many, when he
was cut down by the Witch-King, it fluttered into a forlorn heap of cloth, no
longer shining with starlight, on the deck of the ship.
Saruman was reinstated to Isengard, and given a portion of the lands around.
Fangorn was leveled. Lothl¢rien burned. Mirkwood again became a home for
unclean things. The Shire fell, its people becoming slaves to till the ground.
The Dwarves of the Mountain were seduced with the remaining rings and became
thralls of Mordor.
The two hobbits watched all of this, their hearts breaking, from the window of
Barad-Dur.
"Do you not like my handiwork?" came the voice from everywhere and nowhere.
"Since you assisted me so well, I thought I should give you the privilege of
seeing it through to the end, the end of all things."
Frodo awoke in his chair at Bag-End, clutching the white stone around his neck.
He was shaking and the wound in his shoulder ached as it had not since it was
new. Darkness lay in the hall and around the edge of the room. He almost
fancied he heard a sniffing sound from outside.
He sat awake until dawn, merely to watch the sun rise over the Hill and to know
that the dream was false. Sam was due back the next day from a gardening
expedition, and he would break the news of his impending journey to the Havens then.
This is an alternate ending, originally written for a fantasy lit class, this was published in The Minas Tirith Evening Star some years ago. All characters property of the Tolkien estate.
*****
"Till dark lord lifts his hand"
A postulation
1991 Angel
*****
The orcs found Frodo in the lair of Shelob and carried him to Barad-Dur. Sam,
his heart pounding in his mouth, followed stealthily. He had dispatched that
stinker, Gollum, although he had not meant to. The sneak now lay in a drying
puddle of blackish blood near the mouth of the spider's cave where Sam had backed
into the rock wall to save himself. The weight of the Ring pulled at his neck
as he heard the foul folk in the tower quarrel and fight among themselves.
Exhausted by the ordeal at Cirith Ungol, he dozed.
When he awoke, there was silence. He ventured a cautious look out of the niche
he had occupied. Nothing. As he ventured further out, listening for danger, he
tried to remember where he had last heard Frodo taken. He did not see the shape
behind the door as he crossed the threshold of the tower. He was looking at the
grisly scene before him. Shargat and Gorbag had come to blows, and all their
followers with them. In the end, Gorbag's troops had won, but Sam did not know
all of this. The shape behind the door watched as a mighty figure wrapped in
grey shadow with a blinding light held forward strode into the tower.
Gorbag closed his eyes and waited a moment. The light passed and he saw another
of the little rat-folk, like the one with the pretty armor in the cell above,
begin to climb the stairs. Moving silently, he followed Sam and, halfway up the
stairs of the tower, smote him from behind. The hobbit fell to the stairs,
unconscious. Gorbag picked the hobbit up, slung him over his shoulder, and
carried him up the steps to join his comrade.
"Ho now, what's this?" he grunted, seeing the Ring fall out of Sam's jerkin.
"The Master will be glad of this." Leaving the two halflings, he locked the trap
door and left the tower.
The next day did not dawn. The siege continued at Minas Tirith. In the forest,
the Riders of Rohan and the wildmen were embattled with nazgul and other fell
beasts. And Sauron, at last, returned his precious ring to its rightful place.
In the heat of his hand, the writing appeared again. The bearers of the Three
know what had happened, becoming aware the moment he put it on.
Cirdan at the Havens turned his face west and wept for his people who would now
be destroyed before leaving for Elvenhome. Galadriel walked among the just
blooming mallorns, her hands wrapped tightly around each other, her fair face
drawn and sad. Elrond merely bowed his head in sorrow, knowing the quest had
failed and that the Enemy had been far wiser than any suspected.
The men of Gondor fought valiantly before the Witch-King and his troops, and fell
as valiantly. Peregrin was slain before the doors of the White Tower, and even
the wounded in the Houses of Healing were murdered in their beds. The Rohirrim,
much decimated, arrived too late. No living thing moved in the streets of Minas
Tirith, save orcs.
The Corsairs of Umbar, sailing up the Anduin, saw the banner of the Eye floating
over the walls. Elessar unfurled his banner, and although he slew many, when he
was cut down by the Witch-King, it fluttered into a forlorn heap of cloth, no
longer shining with starlight, on the deck of the ship.
Saruman was reinstated to Isengard, and given a portion of the lands around.
Fangorn was leveled. Lothl¢rien burned. Mirkwood again became a home for
unclean things. The Shire fell, its people becoming slaves to till the ground.
The Dwarves of the Mountain were seduced with the remaining rings and became
thralls of Mordor.
The two hobbits watched all of this, their hearts breaking, from the window of
Barad-Dur.
"Do you not like my handiwork?" came the voice from everywhere and nowhere.
"Since you assisted me so well, I thought I should give you the privilege of
seeing it through to the end, the end of all things."
Frodo awoke in his chair at Bag-End, clutching the white stone around his neck.
He was shaking and the wound in his shoulder ached as it had not since it was
new. Darkness lay in the hall and around the edge of the room. He almost
fancied he heard a sniffing sound from outside.
He sat awake until dawn, merely to watch the sun rise over the Hill and to know
that the dream was false. Sam was due back the next day from a gardening
expedition, and he would break the news of his impending journey to the Havens then.
