Chapter 27: They’re Here

“We should reach Osgiliath by nightfall,” Faramir said.

Frodo looked up at the man with memory-haunted eyes. “Do we have to go there?” He glanced sideways at Sam, unable to meet his friend’s eyes, though he was aware of those soft brown eyes looking at him with concern and love as always, remembering the same things he was. “That was where...where...” The Ring-bearer’s voice trailed off.

Sam took his hand. “There’s nothing for it, dear,” he said before Faramir could answer. “Maybe it won’t happen the same way. But it doesn’t matter if it does. I’m not leaving you.”

“Of course it matters, Sam,” Frodo said, weary with apprehension and his burden. “Maybe you...”

“No.”

Frodo raised his head, surprised at being interrupted. Sam looked at his master squarely in the eyes. “I’m not leaving you, dear. Ever. Now I don’t want to hear any more of this nonsense, hear me?”

Frodo smiled and Sam’s heart leapt to see it. “Yes, Sam,” the elder hobbit said in meek obedience.

“That’s better,” the gardener said. Then he began to mumble under his breath. “What would the Gaffer say if he knew I was talking to the master that way? Probably send him to an early grave.”

Frodo was mightily tempted to chuckle at that, but he sobered when he realized unfortunately that was likely true. He squeezed his friend’s hand and smiled at him. “Thank you, Sam. I needed that.”

Sam looked up into his dearest friend’s loving face. The light shone from him and the gardener stood there for a moment, mesmerized by it. Frodo’s smile widened, then he let go of his guardian’s hand and put his arm around his shoulder instead as they continued on. Sam stole glances at his master even now and then.  Frodo’s light continued to be clear to see in the gathering dusk.

As they got closer to the city though, Frodo clasped his arms across his chest. “It’s so cold,” he said.

Sam looked over at him. It was cool, but not overly so, even for March. He put his arm around his Frodo, pulled him close and rubbec his hand up and down his master’s arm to try to warm him.

“Thank you, Sam.”

The Ring-bearer’s gaze kept anxiously scanning the sky for the signs of the Nazgul he dreaded to see. One hand closed protectively, possessively around the Ring, the other kept clutching his shoulder. “They are close,” he murmured. “They are so close.”

Sam’s gaze was torn between the sky – was that a small black speck he saw moving in the distance? - and watching his beloved friend’s features grow more tense and pained.

Faramir too squinted with several of his men in the falling light, trying to discern whether there really was something growing closer in the sky, but it was hard to tell in the gathering gloom.

Frodo had no doubts. The Ranger looked worriedly down at his small friend who was now very pale and visibly trembling. The hobbit’s gaze was fixed on the speck that was indeed growing in size and menance. “So cold, so close. They are coming, so close.”

With a last anxious look at the sky, Faramir looked at Sam. “Get him down below the city. Nahim will show you. That should give you some protection. Let’s hope it will be enough.”

Sam bowed as Faramir nodded to one of his men. “Thank you, Captain,” the hobbit said.

Faramir gave the gardener a nod and faint smile, then moved away to prepare for the Nazgul’s attack as best he could.

Sam grasped Frodo a little tighter around the shoulder and tugged at him gently. “Come away, dear,” he said. “We’ve got to get you away from here. Mr. Nahim is going to take us underground. Maybe we’ll be safe there.”

Frodo continued to stare at the increasingly large black spot growing in the sky even as Sam began to lead him away. Already he imagined he could see the giant wings of the fell beast, feel the cold breath of its master.

“There is no safe place,” he said, clutching the Ring even tighter in his fist.“ They’re coming, they’re coming.”

Sam gave one last, apprehensive look at the sky, then guided his master away. Frodo stumbled after him, not tearing his gaze away until it was blocked from him. Sam began to breathe easier once they got under the heavy stone. He knew that wasn’t natural for a hobbit to feel, but the more stone and space between us and that terrible thing, the happier I’ll be. He was glad to note that Frodo appeared calmer as well. He was still mumbling but it was softer, his trembling was a little less and his grip on the Ring relaxed a little.  Sam was glad to see that in the flickering torchlight, his friend did not look so pale.

The Ranger they followed led them to a corner. “This is the most secure spot in the city,” he said.

“Thank you, Mr. Nahim,” Sam said.

He placed a torch in a wall sconce and Frodo gazed at it, trying to draw its light into himself to counter the darkness growing inside. Then he looked at Sam who smiled bravely at him and he smiled faintly back. The gardener wrapped both arms around his beloved friend and Frodo hid his head against his guardian’s shoulder, whispering to Elbereth. Sam began to rock him gently. He could think of little else to do. He could shield his master’s eyes and cover his ears, but he knew the Ring and the wraiths reached places inside his friend that he could not guard. Frodo’s heart was open and the gardener grieved that he could place his arms around that as effectively as he could around his brother’s body. He felt Frodo grow tenser as the elder hobbit held him tightly and buried his head deeper against his shoulder, trying to hide.

“Please,” he murmured over and over again and Sam did not know who or what he was speaking to.

The gardener began to sing softly a Shire walking song that he had heard Bilbo sing many a time to give Frodo some other anchor than the fear that was settling over them both.

“Twas early one morn in the spring of the year,

and I was on errantry bound;

The birds they were singing, the flowers were gay,

from blue skies the bright sun shone down.

Oh what exceeding great joy filled my heart,

and I sang as I went on my way.”

“Oh, why do you sing?” Frodo joined in with softly and Sam’s heart nearly leapt of his chest in joy that his master was able to sing with him. He held his friend tighter as he continued.

“I sing for the joy of the day.

I sing for the spring and the birds and the sun

that shines on the Earth so warm and bright.

I sing for the glory of the moon and the stars,

that brighten the cold darkling night.

I sing for the river that flows swiftly on,

unhindered, untroubled and free.

I sing for the flowers that sweeten the air

and dance in the breeze merrily.

“So come ye, my good lad, and join in my song,

and gladly together we’ll sing

of rivers and flowers and birds and the sun

that warms this wide world in the spring.

We’ll sign of our homes and of food and good cheer,

of loved ones now far, far away.

We’ll sign of our road and of when we return.

We’ll sign for the joy of the day.”

“For the joy of the day,” Frodo echoed in a far away voice. He squeezed his eyes shut. He had relaxed a little as Sam had sung the beloved song, but he tensed once more as he felt the Ring call out to the wraith above them, felt the call in his blood and heart and soul and knew there was nothing between him and the Rider. He was naked before it.  “No,” he whispered over and over.  He raised his head. There was no hiding, no more.

He pulled away from Sam. “It’s all over now,” he said in a clear, chill voice. “They’re here.”

He began to stumble away back where they came from, his limbs driven to seek the Nazgul that the Ring beckoned to. His breath came in rasps as he tried to fight the compulsion. Sam grabbed at his arm to tug him back, but the Ring continued to lead him above.

Faramir looked down with surprise as the two hobbits emerge into the night. Sam still tried to pull his master back, but Frodo continued to move away, compelled on, his eyes vacant.

The giant fell beast rent the air with its horrible screech. Frodo cried out but didn’t stop moving. Sam grimaced and cried out as well in pain, but wouldn’t let go of his master. The foul stench of the beast was nearly overwhelming as was the horror and despair that poured from his rider. Those soldiers still sane enough and brave enough to fire their flame-tipped arrows at it were rewarded by being snapped in two in the beast’s jaws or swept off the parapets by its wings.

Frodo unerringly moved toward the wraith. The fell beast lowered its head in anticipation of another conquest. The Nazgul looked down at the small being in front of him, smelling fresh blood. The Ring sang in Frodo’s ears. Sam trembled with terror, his insides jelly, but he followed his master without hesitation. The Ring quivered against Frodo’s chest in eager anticipation and the hobbit’s hand reached inside to pull at the chain.

Frodo came to the top of the stairs and drew the Ring in front of him. His breaths came in slow gasps now as he looked at the beast and its Rider that towered above him. The creature lowered its head and opened its jaws, ready to snap.

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A/N:  The song is from Queen Galadriel with a teeny bit of modification of my own.