Stories of Arda - Lord of the Rings Fan-Fiction Archive

The great white steed flew off at maximum speed carrying the small figure
that held a short sword upright. A horrible shrill echoed through the
forest, and five Black Riders came racing up from behind then four more
followed. Frodo glanced to his side, and to his horror two of the Riders
were racing from a fair distance beside him. He could feel what their
plan was - to cut him off at the pass.

Frodo's heart wrenched and he clutched the horse's mane like it were his only
life-giver. Asfaloth rode on, faster than the wind. It wasn't long before
Frodo could see the Ford of Bruinen, but horror awaited him there. The
two Riders who had charged in front of him anxiously awaited his arrival.
He could see them in their raw form. Their night-dark cloaks were cast to
the ground, revealing white and gray-blurred figures - gnarled and
twisted from years of evil dwelling inside them. Pale, steely swords were raised high in their naked hands. Helms stood avoid their cold, glittering eyes.

"Come back! To Mordor we will take you!" they chanted to him. Frodo could
hear them in his ears and inner chambers of his mind, grabbing viciously
at him even though they were still yards away. Frodo closed his eyes shut
and yearned for Asfaloth to stop or turn away, but the white horse kept
ahead.

The foam of the River hitting Frodo's feet gave him slight relief, but
all too soon, the relief was extinguished. An icy hand had seized his
waistcoat, spending Frodo into the River with a hard splash. He gasped in
water, and felt it flood down his throat. He squirmed frantically to
escape the enveloping horror. As quickly as he had been flung into the
water, he was at the surface again - the icy hand clenched tightly, but
not suffocating, around the back of his neck. He was raised high from the rush River into the air. An arm wrapped around his waist, holding him securely to a
sunken, lifeless body.

Frodo knew who had seized him. It was a Black Rider, one of the two that
cut him off at the Ford. His mind was screaming, but no sound reached his
mouth. They have me! They have me! - was all he could comprehend in his
startled mind.

"The Ring! The Ring!" the Riders unyieldingly chanted. Frodo, with eyes
still closed shutting out the terrible misshapen beings, could feel
himself being turned around. He struggled to keep control over his own
conscious. They would search him and find It.

NO! a clear voice screamed, breaking through the Nazguls' searing iron
grip. They will NOT have IT!

With one painful, swift move Frodo pulled out the gold chain which the
One Ring hung from, from under his shirt and yanked it from his neck. The
chain snapped. The Ring, too, had been calling to him all along. It urged
him to slipped It on. It burned his hand and cursed him when Frodo
rejected It's impulsed desire. With a weak cry, he uncurled his clenched hand and the Ring dropped to the ground.

The long, skulked fingers released Frodo's neck and curled under his
legs, pulling him even closer to the lifeless body. Frodo desperately
tried to keep his eyes shut. He felt the deadly black breath on his face.
Raw fingers ran over his brow, and a foul language Frodo did not
understand was spoken, not in his ears but in his mind. It called to him
to reveal the Ring, to join the Ringwraiths in the Shadow Realm where
they dwelt.

His will failing like the last beats of a heart, Frodo felt lightheaded
but heavy with cruel weight. He realized the cold hand of the Nazgul was
upon his chest. Frodo heaved an agonizing cry. Then suddenly a great,
suffocating force pierced his chest, sending all breath from his body.

Writer note: I am very sorry that I haven't updated this story in so long! I didn't think I'd get any reviews for it, but I've been getting a lot lately so I finally got this chapter written. It's short, but I needed to get it out the way for the next part. Enjoy!

Chapter 1: On the Shore of the Ford

Strider and Glorfindel hurled their small companions to the ground just in time as four Black Riders flew by. The Riders did not have a care for anything but the one who held the Ring. They'd snare him then take It from him and make Baggins one of their own. It was Sauron's orders, and they had to carrying out the plan.

The companions who were left behind knew this, and feared it. They lay on the ground long after the sounds of hooves were gone. Finally, Strider and Glorfindel rose up and checked the hobbits.

Strider moved to Pippin, who had not risen yet. Pippin was sitting up, but his hand clenched at his right leg. Strider immediately took Pippin's leg in his hand and felt for broken bones. Merry hurried to his cousin's side.

"Then why does it hurt so much?" Pippin grimaced as Strider gently set his leg on the grass.

"You have a spranged ankle. You will not be able to walk on your own for a couple weeks."

"Estel" Glorfindel said, over the Man's shoulder. "We must hurry to the other side of the Ford."

"And find Mr. Frodo" Sam added. "I hope those Black Riders didn't catch up to him."

Just as Strider was lifting Pippin into his arm, Glorfindel caught sight of a white, long figure trotting their way. He frowned deeply to see that Asfaloth carried no rider. Strider saw this as well.

"NO!" they heard Sam shriek. And before they could stop him, Sam had fled in the direction Asfaloth had just come. Glorfindel was quickly following, but Strider had to take it slow with Pippin injured in his arms. Merry, resisting the urge to take off behind Sam, stayed with Strider.

Though Glorfindel had Asfaloth, he did not mount him and came to the Ford to find Sam there already. There was no sign of Frodo or the Wraiths. Glorfindel watched as Sam knelt down, and appeared to grab something from the rocky shore. He didn't rise until Strider emerged from the woods, halting by Glorfindel's side. Sam stood then turned. His face was streaked with tears and a chain dangled from his hand. The Ring hung from it.

Strider carefully laid Pippin on the grass near the shore. He went to Sam's side, kneeling in front of the hobbit. "Strider, it's Mr. Frodo ring, but he's not with it."

"I fear the Ringwraiths have taken Frodo, but somehow the Ring was left behind."

Sam held out the chain in his fist to the Man, but Strider recoiled. "I cannot take it. You must be its Bearer now."

"I cannot touch it, neither can Glorfindel. Pippin is injury, and I will need Merry to help me with him. You need to keep the Ring."

"What about Frodo?" asked Merry. "How will we get him back from those Black Riders?"

Strider looked solemnly at him, knowing that there was barely a chance of ever getting Frodo back from the Ringwraiths. He could not figure why they took the hobbit and left the Ring, unless somehow the Ring fell from Frodo before he was seized. Through all the commotion and thrill of capturing the one who they knew had the Ring, the Wraiths left carelessly before searching the hobbit for it. The Wraiths most likely were taking Frodo to Mordor. But…

A thought sparked Strider's mind. The Wraiths might stop to take the Ring from Frodo, but find it not there and come back in search of it. It was the tiniest glimmer of hope, but Strider held on to it.

He now looked hopeful at Merry. "We will find him. I do not know how, but we will."

Warning: Some inappropriate touching occurs around the end, but nothing more! This is not leading up to slash either. I usually don't write this kind of stuff, but sometimes it comes out.

Emptiness. All around him, he felt it. His chest burned ice cold, the pain flaring on and off as he breathed. There was no comfort here. Not even unconsciousness could ease the horrible feeling.

Frodo rolled to his side and moaned. At least he could move. He pushed himself into sitting position, one hand clutching his chest. Why did it hurt so much? The last thing he remembered was riding hard on a horse then falling into water.

Now he was in an unfamiliar place. He opened his eyes to grey - like ash - colored the flat floor. The surface was cold and hard like smooth marble. The iciness sunk into his bones. Frodo slowly raised his head. There wasn't much to take in. All around him was a blur, as far as was visible. He rubbed his eyes was one hand, but it didn't not clear the haze.

Every breath he drew pained him, and he felt the need to lie down again. His mind was befuddled, like thinking through mud. Nothing was processing but the pain and the cold. He pushed himself to turn to see behind him. Everything around him was still blurred save for who stood near - a man of dark complexion. His tunic was tattered and stained, whelps covered his skin. His eyes gleamed in a red tint, and the leering smile on his face made Frodo's stomach turn. He closed his eyes, trying desperately to remember what happened after falling into water.

Frodo fell onto his back, clutching his chest. The skulked fingers pressed against him. Though he could feel them, there were none present. Then suddenly, real pressure was there. Frodo's eyes snapped open, horror flooding them. The dark man was kneeling beside him, leaning over him. The other large hand rested on Frodo's brow.

A clouded look materialized on his face. "I have forgotten who I am." Ages ago, he was feared by many - his name being Gazza-ta, of a black tribe of Númenorians. The clouded look melted into a wicked, pleasured smile. "I know who you are - Baggins."

Frodo's heart nearly leapt in his throat at the mention of his last name. The Black Riders. The chase. The Ring. It all came back in a sudden shock that made him tremble uncontrollably. He stared, wide-eyed and frightened, at the dark man. He was a Ringwraith; the one who pulled him from atop the horse. Frightened, Frodo scooted backwards until he abruptly hit something solid - a wall.

"What is this place?" Frodo asked, eyes darting every which way but at the man advancing on him. "Why am I here?"

"The Invisible Realm. I am trapped here forever, in a state of misery. I hunger. I thirst." With every slow step taken by Gazza-ta, an eerie presence molded around them. Fire danced in his eyes. "I have no one. I have seen no one. I have touched no one. He sent me here, imprisoned me. I am at his command until he releases me. But, he will not release me ever.

"I've been given a gift, one he does not know of yet." Delight flowed in his speech again. "I've claimed you. You belong to me until we reach Mordor."

Something strange happened then that Frodo could not stop. He collapsed to the floor like a boneless fish. He cried out, but no sound escaped. His vision grew dim, only shadows were present. He felt himself being pulled into hairy bare arms, being pressed tightly to a chilled body.

"I can touch you. I can feel you. I can feel again" Gazza-ta whispered closely to Frodo's ear. "I will touch you as I please."

The dark man caressed his captive's cheek, rubbing his fingers back and forth. The fingers ran roughly down Frodo's neck to his chest. The sickening feeling made his skin crawl, and his stomach twisted painfully. Warm tears rolled down his cheeks, and Gazza-ta licked them away. His large hand slapped underneath Frodo's left thigh, squeezing it tightly.

The dark man pulled Frodo even closer, positioning him as if he were holding a child. He wrapped his arms around Frodo, and rocked back and forth as he held him. Still, Frodo's tears and nausea did not cease. He longed for relief but found none.

The farther the Ringwraith's rode, the more deserted the presence of the Ring felt. They had found Baggins. They're mission was nearly accomplished. The Wraith who held the poor, unconscious hobbit halted suddenly. The other Black Riders halted as well, feeling their companion's dismay.

The Wraith searched Baggins' clothes and person, rummaging not-too-gentle over the small body. Nothing, he found. No Ring. He let out an ear-piercing shriek of anger. The other's could sense what was wrong, and vexed him to discard of the unconscious body. But he would not let it go. He pulled the hobbit close to his sunken figure then turned back the way they had come. The gift he would keep until it was found in his possession. The Ring drew him and he could not ignore it, but he would not throw aside the only pleasure he had felt in what seemed like forever.

Do You Know Real Nightmares by Nina the powerwriter