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Chapter 12: The Dead Marshes

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Tathar: Yeah, I almost had to stop writing because I felt my babys (i.e. Frodo) pain! But, this is Frodo torture, is it not? And thats what I do best, is it not? (Thick posh English accent) Ooh-de-lallying wizzo! Thanks!

 

Tiggivon: I know, I was so happy when Stolen Lives was FINALLY updated! And yeah, I agree about Frodos fate. Everything seems to happen to him. Oh well. On with the torture! :) Thanks for yet another encouragingly happy review!

 

Anyway, without further ado (smile) here is your chapter!

 

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Frodo slept fitfully that night. His shoulder pained him, like it once did once before when he was passing into the shadow world; a constant reminder, was the pain, and sometimes it brought back to him rushes of those feelings.

 

Once, in fatigued exasperation, he had looked over at his now bare shoulder, save for the material bound across his stinging wound. He caught a glimpse of his Morgul wound as he fidgeted.

 

It was burning, almost boiling to the touch, and Orli had said that this was because such good had touched a reminder of evil. Frodo shuddered at the thought and the irony that his shoulder was evil.

 

But anyway, it was dawn, and now he good not sleep. He was turned towards the fire: the dying embers hissed as once again he opened his heavy eyelids again, and sighed, wincing at the pain that simple gesture had brought him. He heard Orli stir somewhere behind him, and a shuffle.

 

"Frodo?" a voice heard behind him. Frodo murmured in reply, and turned his head to look behind him. Orli said he was making sure that Frodo was awake, and hurriedly sorting his possessions into his pack.

 

Once more, he commanded Frodo to sit, and when Frodo ceased to do so, Orli sat him up by force. Only once did Orli feel pity for the halfling; when he pushed Frodos head forward to life his back, he saw that Frodos eyes were wide in a silent scream, and that was only once, that he felt pity.

 

He realised that he had been slightly hard on the hobbit. After all, he had just been speared with an arrow. Orli sighed, "Lle anta est," he mumbled, and because Frodo was a little dependant at the time, spooned some Miruvor into him, and let him sleep for a few more hours.

 

This time, Frodo slept peacefully, and upon awakening found that it felt easier to breathe, and he could sit by himself.

 

"Where are we going?" he asked as he surveyed Orli gathering his things together once again.

 

"Were still travelling- remember?" --of course, Frodo thought, he never changes. Always the same, cold stare. Same, cold voice.

 

"But where to-" Frodo felt another stab of pain down his left arm, cutting off the rest of his words.

 

Orli thought for a moment. That was a good point. At last, he replied.

Through the Dead Marshes. What in erus name was the Dead Marshes?

 

Suddenly, while Frodo was deep in thought, he saw something that made his blood run cold. In the midst of the nearby foliage, with burning green fire in the centre, was a pair of eyes...

 

"Orli!" Frodo hissed, digging his nails into the dirt and moving sideways, away from the staring beings. Orli had seen them too. He nodded in knowing and crept away, into the shadows, to catch the beast upon surprise.

 

No, Frodo suddenly though, no he mustnt do that! In Frodos horror, the eyes blinked and narrowed dangerously. Then a spidery creature leapt out and bounded towards Frodo in shocking speed.

 

"Orli!" Frodo yelled, "ORLI!"

 

For he knew perfectly well that Gollum had been following.

 

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"GET THE ERU OFF OF ME, YOU-" Frodo kicked and struggled, but Gollum clasped his clammy fingers across Frodos throat and shook him, back and forth continuously. Frodo thought furiously in blind panic, as he was pressed closer and closer to the steaming wood of the embers of the fire.

 

As Gollum pushed him closer and closer, Frodos struggling began to cease, and he let himself be dragged closer and closer...

 

"Nassssty hobbitsessssss... take oursss precioussssss, birthday present. Yesssss..." Gollum disgusted Frodo, croaking in his slimy throat.

 

Suddenly, Frodo broke free and spinning round, ignoring the fire in his shoulder, Frodo unsheathed Sting savagely and turned to face the creature, just as Orli leapt out of the bushes nearby and ran towards them.

 

"What in hells name-" he cursed as he went straight past them, content on Frodo scaring Gollum into stillness with Sting, and dug from his pack a coil of Elven rope.

 

"Nasssssty hobbitsesssss... nassssty men... take ours preciousss!" Gollum sneered, but Frodo adamant.

 

"QUIET Gollum, or Ill cut your throat!" Gollum startled when he saw the blade glinted as the sun was steadily rising.

 

Orli crept up behind him, and took hold of Gollums foot and hastily tied the rope in a loose loop around his ankle.

 

"No!" Gollum screamed, and failing himself around, started clawing at the noose.

 

"Hm. So you dont like elvish things then?" Orli snickered. Frodo, noticing the blood beginning to seep through the binding again, sank back down by the fire, and wrapped his travel-stained cloak about him.

 

Orli, meanwhile, was dealing with Gollum, "I should kill you right this minute!" he snarled, "You are a vile creature, Sméagol, and you should be put down! Like he should!" he gestured to Frodo, who looked up in alarm.

 

"NO!" Gollum threw himself at Orlis feet, who hastily kicked him away, "DONT hurt the precious!" he babbled insanely, his eyes flashing, "Dont hurts usss!"

 

"Eurgh," Orli winced as Gollum threw himself towards him again, and stepped aside so that Gollum fell on Frodo instead.

 

"Aah!" Frodo cried, and clutching his shoulder, fell sideways and shook, curled up in a foetal position, on the ground. Gollum shrieked and threw himself backwards again, only to be dragged forward by his foot, still bound with the rope.

 

"Do you know the way to Mordor!" Orli commanded, pressing his boot down on Gollums toes. Gollum shrieked again.

 

"Gollum will take nice hobbitsesss and men there..." he drooled, "Gollum is nice!"

 

"Then swear," Orli said coldly, "Swear that you will be good as you say,"

 

Gollum composed himself and said seriously, "Sméagol swears on the precious."

 

"No!" Orli yelled in exasperation, and kicked him once more, "But swearing the precious life, that enables you to betray your word! Now try again!

 

"Sméagol," Gollum snarled, "Sméagol swears on... the-" it almost hurt him to say it, " the life of the precious that he will be good,"

 

"Very good," Orli said coldly, and looked across to Frodo, "Come on. You get up. Weve got to go."

 

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They travelled threw much marshland, while Gollum led the way, babbling incoherently and still prisoner by the rope. Orli had given it to Frodo, because frankly, he said, it bored him. SO Frodo had to do it.
Soon, Sméagol stopped in the shadows. It was now evening, and Gollum had been moaning all day about the sun. Instead, they had travelled undercover of shadow, and never stopped to rest.
"Here it is..." he muttered, "Dead Marshes, yes..."
They soon passed into a cave of trees, still trudged through the stinking sludge, until they came to a clearing of marshy wasteland.

 

Frodo saw Orli pale steadily as he stepped onto the slush. As Frodo reached it, he saw eerie white lights come into view. As he looked down, he withdrew his foot immediately. There, in the base of the marshland, there were faces. Faces of elves, faces of men, faces of orcs. All staring blankly at him. It sent cold shivers down his spine.

 

"Mustnt look when candles are lit," Gollum hissed, "Masters not look when candles are lit," and he crept along a line of reeds.

 

But Orli and Frodo could not look away from the basin of the marsh: perhaps in shock.

 

The faces. Proud, fair and noble faces, grim faces, sad faces and evil. All of them lay in the murky pools, with weeds in their silver and grey hair. But all are dead, foul and rotting.

 

"Yes," Gollum answered, "All dead. All rotten. Sméagol knows. When Sméagol was young, there was a great battle here, of Men and Elves and Orcses. Terrible battle. Horrible Elves with bows and men with swords. They fought for days at the Black Gate. But all dead now. All dead! Marshes swallowed all the bodies up. All dead!"

 

Orli looked like he was going to be sick at this description. As he stepped lightly along the rushes, all the faces followed him with their empty eyes. Some of them rose in the water, followed Frodo as he fiercely pushed his eyes away from them and clutched his shoulder as it began to ache again.

 

But Orli could not ignore the staring black holes for eyes, like hammers had bored into the skulls of the rotting.

 

TO Frodo, it looked like hell had rested into Middle Earths water. All the twisting, foul faces that were once fair haunted him. Suddenly, Orli kicked out as he felt a slimy hand curl around his foot and yelled.

 

"I thought you said they werent real!" he stammered as more faces and half-bodies looked like they grouped around him as he splashed around, trying to kick them off.

 

Frodo felt it too, as an oozing claw found itself gripping Frodos ankle. He panicked and fled through the water, trying not to scream. Suddenly, as he spun around, he saw a decaying body lunge forward at him. He cried and fell back into the water, shaking uncontrollably in terror.

 

He felt feet around him and saw a reflection of Orli moving towards him above the water, and made the mistake of turning his head sideways. Many of the sickening heads leered at him, their rotting lips curling into sneers. Frodos tears merged into the water, and his shoulder wound burned like fire.

 

He closed his stinging eyes and felt himself being lifted out of the water, his hands holding his head in distant comfort, trembling as Orli cursed the hobbit and placed him over his back.

 

Orli and Gollum ran through a line of reeds, thus escaping the dead marshes. Orli hoped he would never have to cross through there again.

 

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It was late at night when they reach firmer ground again. Frodo was still shivering from the terror, having learned that the ring gave him hallucinations, it was the ring who had made that body lunge at Frodo. Frodo felt the ring sneer at him for believing it.

 

They still travelled on through the night. Many a time Gollum craned his neck eastward and southward, seeming displeased or troubled. Frodo wondered what it could be, but then, he cast his mind back to the Fellowship, back to Frodo, to Sam and to Merry and Pippin.

 

The shadow that was over his heart lifted for a moment, and then he remembered where he was, and the shadow grew thicker once again. He curled up tightly as they at last came to rest, and fell into troubled sleep, to the sound of Gollum wheezing close by him.

 

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Translation

Lle anta est You need to rest.