Chained

***ok, for anyone out there whos just as confused as i am, apparently something screwys going on with my computer, and it either deleted the chapter, or is hiding it, which i doubt ver much. Hope that clears up any confusion that existed. Ok so this just continues on the first chapter, Aragorn gets a little violent, but nothing more serious then a slap across the face. That about covers it, as without further delay from my ranting on, the next chapter.***


Frodo awoke with a start, not quite sure why at first, but realised quickly enough when a second clap of thunder caused him to nearly jump out of his skin. He loved thunder, and he loved rain, which was another queer thing about him, but right now he was anxious, and tense, though at first he could not understand why. He rubbed his eyes groggily, and looked around. *Empty* he thought. *just as it was before I went to sleep.* He realised that Aragorn had not been in there very much that day, and he wondered why, seeing as how Aragorn seemed to think of him as some sort of pet, whom he could chain up at will when he thought the pet was being naughty, or when it threatened to run away. This thought made Frodo’s temper rise. He did not like men treating him like a child, and he liked it even less when they treated him like an animal, to be bought or sold at will.

He stood and walked over to the window, his back stiff from leaning against the wall for so long, and he longed to be back in his room in his warm bed, Sam snoring softly in the bed next to him. But he was not in his room in his bed, and Sam was not snoring beside him either. *Where is Sam?* This question made it feel as though someone had stabbed a knife in his gut, and turned it in a circle savagely. Could Sam have left without him? He blew this thought aside, assuring himself that Sam would not leave without an explanation and not without saying goodbye to him. But still the knife remained planted where it was, though only causing a little twinge of pain.

It must have been nearly an hour since he had woken up whe hhe heard the familiar *snick* of a key turning in a lock, and the creak of the door opening. He had nearly jumped out of his skin, for the second time that day when he heard the key turn in the lock, but managed to compose himself as Aragorn walked in. What he was going to do now, he had no idea, but hundreds of ideas flitted through his head, on chasing after the other, and they all seemed to get mixed up.

He found himself glowering at Aragorn’s big cheery smile, the man was acting as if there was nothing out of the ordinary to come back to roomroom and find a hobbit, a good friend of his no less, collared and chained to the wall. Frodo looked away, back out the window. Frodo wondered why Aragorn had chosen a room with such a dismal view. It overlooked a small courtyard, with nothing in it, and all that it was used for, apparently, was training some of the knew soldiers for battle. Frodo watched the rain fall, and assumed that this was because Aragorn wished to oversee the warriors performances from the comforts of his own quarters, and brushed the thought to the back of his head. He had more important things to deal with right now.

Aragorn had been moving around the room, probably changing his clothes as they were dirty and seemed to be covered with mud, and Frodo only truly remembered his presence when he felt a hand on his shoulder, and was startled to see Aragorn standing behind him.

Aragorn watched the halflings reflection in the small window, feeling him tense up under his touch, and smirking silently to himself. He wasn’t entirely sure why he had kept Frodo here buy such means, only that it was important to keep Frodo in the city, and not let the halfling escape from him. He did not know why he felt this, but he knew that even if he knew the real answer, he could not let Frodo escape from him so easily anyway.

He had not meant to, but somehow he had fallen in love with the small creature, and knew that there was no way Frodo would love him back. Not in the same way. That simply wasn’t done in the Shire, as Aragorn knew so well. But still he had desired Frodo for quite some time. Just about ever since he had returned from the quest. He wanted to flip Frodo around, pin him against the wall, and kiss those soft lips, watching the fear in the halflings eyes as it cowered before him.

It? Frodo was an it now? Aragorn wondered why he had thought of Frodo like that, but decided to brush it away. Now that he was actually touching Frodo, is was almost impossible to keep control of himself, though he did not know why he did, only that it was not yet time to move in like that, as that would destroy Frodo completely.
‘Are you hungry Frodo?’ He said, realising that neither had spoken yet, and that h desperately needed to take his mind off of these ghtsghts. The halfling shook his head, but his stomach betrayed its master with a loud low growl. *So Frodo is playing stubborn again?* Aragorn thought. *No matter, I have seen him stubborn before, had arguments with him, and have managed to win him over.* This time it will be a little different, for not only did Aragorn wish to win the arguments, he wished to have the halfling submit to his will. And he would.

Frodo wasn’t sure what to make of Aragorn’s expression. He was no longer smiling, and his eyes were dark, in a malicious sort of way that made Frodo slightly nervous. There was a greedy look in those eyes too. One that Frodo had seen in other men’s eyes when they looked at him, but had never been able to place. It made him uncomfortable, and he usually went to another room, or simply left when a man looked at him like that, but here there was no escape. And for the first tiFrodFrodo realised how trapped he really was.

His stomach gave another growl, and he silently cursed it as a small smirk appeared on Aragorn’s face. *After traveling through Mordor, living on nothing but a wafer of lembas bread and very little water, sometimes less then that, now your complaining?* But he knew that Lembas for one was, perhaps not filling, but enough to keep his stomach satisfied, and that his stomach was now readjusted to having its hearts content worth of food (if stomachs had hearts) and was expecting a meal about this time, having not had anything to eat during the rest of the day did not help either.

Aragorn walked away over towards a table which, Frodo noticed for the first time, was set with many exotic foods. Though he had lived in Minas Tirith for a while, he had not tasted very man of there foods, being more happy, and accustomed to the foods of his lands, like mushrooms for example. Aragorn lifted the cloth over top of a small basket, and the smell of fresh baked bread filled the air, making Frodo’s stomach rumble again. Still he ignored it. He watched as Aragorn took out a roll, and carefully buttered it. He raised it to his mouth as if about to eat it, then gave a look at Frodo with a raised eyebrow, and moved it down again.

He turned to face Frodo, a small sneer like grin playing across his face, making the anger in Frodo bubble and froth, and causing his to glower back at Aragorn. The man had arrogance that was for sure. Among other things. He held out the roll to Frodo as if offering a dog a treat.
‘Do you want the roll Frodo?’ He asked. Frodo starred at him in disbelief that Aragorn was treating him like this.
‘Come and get the role Frodo.’ He said. Frodo recd frd from him in disgust, forgetting about his chain, and tripping over it in the process. He landed flat on his back, all the air was knocked from his lungs, and he knew that Aragorn was watching him mockingly, so he avoided the mans gaze and stayed where he was.

Frodo lay there for several minutes, and Aragorn let him, allowing the halfling to catch his breath. When Frodo finally did stand up, Aragorn held out the roll again, and told Frodo to come and get it. Frodo glared at him, disbelief, disgust, and anger showing clearly in those forget-me-not blue eyes.
‘I am not a dog you can train to come when you call.’ Frodo said quietly. Aragorn felt a rage build up in him that he could not explain, and he jumped up, sprang towards Frodo, and soon had him pinned to the wall by his shoulders.

It happened so fast Frodo could not even have begun to try to defend himself, and found himself pinned to the wall by his shoulders, which Aragorn held in a vicelike grip.
‘You don’t think I can’t break you?’ Aragorn hissed, his voice low and menacing, causing a shiver to course through Frodo. Aragorn clearly felt it, for a smirk played across his mouth.
‘Are you frightened?’ He asked quietly, and Frodo was reminded of that night at the prancing pony so long ago. He suddenly felt a terrible pain across his cheek, and his head snapped back and hit the wall with an almighty *CRACK.* At first Frodo couldn’t place what had happened, then when his vision refocused, he saw that Aragorn was glaring down at him, that one of his hands was raised to strike again, and that it had little droplets of blood on it. It was only then that Frodo realised that his lip was bleeding, though he had been able to taste the blood since the hand made contact.

He starred at Aragorn in disbelief, now rather terrified of the man standing before him. Kidnapping was one thing, but beating was something that Frodo had never expected Frodo Aragorn. *Just goes to show you* he thought. *You can’t trust none of the big folk, save Gandalf and the elves i guess, but not the men.*

Aragorn had acted before he had thought, and though he slightly regretted hurting Frodo, he found the power he felt from the blow rather nice, and found himself inclined to hit the small creature before him.
‘I asked you a question!’ He snarled at Frodo. He would not tolerate disobedience, not from a little Shire rat like this. Shire rat! He had never called Frodo, or any hobbit that, and had scorned any who did, for it was a foul name to give such small undeserving creatures.

*That was why he hit me? Because I did not answer his question quick enough?* Frodo could hardly believe his ears, though after that incident, he was sure not much in the whole of Middle-earth could surprise him now. He felt Aragorn’s hand tighten on his shoulder, and his cheek gave a nasty throb, Aragorn was preparing to strike again.
‘Yes.’ He said. The answer was plain and simple, not filled with fear, though he felt plenty, he remembered what Gandalf had said to him once when he was still a young teen “Frodo, you may not think yourself courageous because you feel fear, but you cannot be brave without fear. If you are immortal, and cannot be killed, then you can never be brave either, for you will have nothing to fear. Courage is not the lack of fear. But rather the knowledge that there is some greater task at hand, and the ability to go forth and face it.” These words had not made much sense then, but now they seemed to fit together better, though they gave him little comfort. He became aware that Aragorn was speaking again.
‘Not nearly frightened enough, you know not what you face.’ Aragorn suddenly released his shoulders, and he found himself lying, a crumpled heap on the ground, Aragorn looming over him, eyes still dark with malice. Presently he turned and walked to the door.
‘I shall see you tomorrow, goodnight Frodo.’ Frodo spun his head around to see Aragorn standing by the door, preparing to open it. Against his better judgement he cried out
‘Sam and the others will come for me.’ He found his voice was small and weak sounding, but he did not pay this much heed, he was paying more attention to stopping himself from shaking, to Aragorn’s reaction to the words.

Aragorn slowly turned to face him, and Frodo was horrified to see a grin forming across the mans face.
‘They will not come for you Frodo.’ He said, ‘They left this morning, after I informed them of your decision. Frodo’s face blanched. But his eyes grew even fiercer, though Aragorn could see worry in them. ‘What decision might that be?’ He asked, his voice faltering slightly. The grin grew on Aragorn’s face, to an outright sneer.
‘Oh, your decision to stay here in Minas Tirith.’ Frodo’s breath caught in his throat, and the color drained from his face.
‘They wanted to see you before they left of course, but I told them that you were sleeping, and not to be disturbed.’
‘You didn’t...’ Frodo said, unable to believe the words he was hearing. But Aragorn ignored him and continued ‘they said that they did not care whether you were asleep or not, and demanded to see you to say goodbye. I told them that this was a surprise to me, that you had told me that you had said goodbye the previous evening, and that you just wanted to sleep now, not to be awakened. Gandalf of course began muttering something about after effects of the Ring, Merry and Pippin were a bit taken aback, and Sam was utterly beside himself.’ Frodo found his breath was coming in raggedly, and that his throat seemed to be closing in around the lump that was forming there.
‘They left just the same, though Sam took quite a bit of convincing before he left, and I believe he was crying when they rode off.’
Frodo felt tears fighting to get out of his eyes, but he held them back, looking away from the man before him. Or at least, what he had mistaken as a man. Right now this creature seemed to be more orc than anything. Argorn turned the doorknob, opened the door, and took a step outside.
‘Goodnight Frodo, my pet, sleep well.’ He heard Aragorn call before he let the door swing shut behind him. Frodo waited a few minutes after the lock clicked, before allowing the tears to stream from his eyes. This couldn’t be true, it mustn’t be true! But deep down in his heart he knew it was true, and the knife gave another sharp twist. He curled in on himself, letting the tears flow freely onto the soft carpet, trying to shut out the rest of the world, though there was little to shut out. He cried for so long, until, exhausted from crying, and from the rest of the days endurances, he drifted off to sleep once more.