The Betrayal

Disclaimer: You all know that this world and these lovely characters belong entirely to the master, J.R.R. Tolkien. I am merely borrowing, and not even doing them great justice, at that.

A/N: Just a little wisp of an idea of what our poor Samwise might have been thinking.

Sam couldn't seem to get comfortable sleeping on the hard ground, even after all this time. You would think that after all of these weeks he would be used to it, but no. The others didn't seem to mind it, but there wasn't a way that he turned that the rocky earth didn't poke him, some sharp stick nudging into his back. Now that they were way up here on the stairs of Cirith Ungol, he was afraid for his very life. Hobbits weren't meant for scaling mountains! They were meant to be planting things in the fresh green earth, not stuck halfway to heaven on bare rock. Sam sighed. There were so many things that were not meant to be that they didn't bear pondering on. He turned over carefully, trying to find a position that eased the ache in his back.

It was nearly morning, but there was no way to tell that except by instinct. The stars were veiled in the ever present gloom, and the days had now grown so dark as to be worthy of being compared to constant dusk. It seemed that even in true night it was impossible to get a good night's rest. Something seemed to suck the peace from one's sleep. Dreams were a rarity, and it was just a meaningless tumble upon the ground until morning. Another sort of fight that was done lying down. At least it eased the blisters, Sam thought ruefully. He had hardy Hobbit feet and was not much of a complainer by nature, but this trek was slowly sucking the goodwill out of even him. He didn't know how Mr. Frodo stood it. It was so much worse these days, the closer they got to Mordor.

Sam thought about his friend. They had grown up knowing each other, but it seemed as if in these last few weeks they had become so much closer, closer than anyone could ever be. It pained him to see the change come over Frodo, like a sickness. He had always been quiet and reserved. Now he had withdrawn into himself. He was not well. It was evident for anyone with eyes to see, but Sam knew him the best of all and could see the changes most clearly. It wasn't just a physical ailment, although Mr. Frodo surely was suffering in that way, too. He was not the same Hobbit that he used to be, both in thought and in deed. There were glimmers of his true self, but more often than not, there was something darker starting to take hold, and that chilled Sam to the bone. He didn't want to lose his friend to the darkness.

He blamed Gollum for a lot of this. That creature was naught but evil! A stab of jealousy pierced deep into Sam's breast at the mere thought of the other's name, and he was a little surprised by the ferocity of the emotion. What did he have to be jealous of? He was Mr. Frodo's best mate, not Gollum! It galled him that that slimy creature had wormed his way into Frodo's affections. Mr. Frodo was too trusting by half! It was up to Sam to protect him from that grasping, snivelling thing. He was up to no good, Sam was sure of it. If any harm came to Frodo because of him...

The idea of Frodo in harm's way made Sam's breath almost stop. Why was he thinking this way? Why was he having these thoughts? Was it because they were so close to the unknown thing at the top of the steps of Cirith Ungol? Whatever the reason ,Sam had never really thought about what he felt for Frodo before. He had just known that they were a team. Suddenly it became blindingly clear how much he valued him. Oh, he loved Rosie, and he was going to marry her as soon as they got back to the Shire. He did know that. But he had never needed someone like he had needed Frodo before. He had never had friend who knew him like Frodo did. The idea that he needed Frodo, had always needed him, had snuck up on him so suddenly that it took his breath away.

With new resolve, he knew that he would never be the same if he couldn't be by the side of Mr. Frodo. They had to complete this journey, and together. There couldn't be any other way than to do this thing side by side. If Frodo had need of his strength, he would lend it, and follow him into the very fires of Mordor, if need be. Sam wiped his eyes and took a shaky breath. He was a little more worked up than he had realized. Still, now he had the attitude he needed to finish this thing and see it through to the end. He noticed that it was getting to be later in the morning and sat up. Gollum, that sneaky thing, was already up. They had some words about him sneaking around. Gollum was spiteful , as always. Sam felt the bitterness and ire rise up like a bile in his throat, but he bit it back, and turned his thoughts to Mr. Frodo.

"Mr. Frodo," Sam said gently. "I am sorry. It's time to be awake."

Frodo was disoriented. "Is it? It is still dark."

Sam was apologetic. "It is always dark here. Let us get some food. There is still some of the lembas bread left, have some."

Frodo lifted himself up weakly, but Sam was staring in horror at the bag, it was gone!

The fight that ensued seemed to come about in slow motion, and Sam felt as if someone else was arguing in his stead. He heard the words as if he had water in his ears, through a great time and distance, and in the end, nothing mattered. All he felt was the breaking of his heart when Mr. Frodo told him to leave. The only thing he saw was Frodo taking the hand of that...vile monster...and sending him away. The rage that rose up in him was nothing he had ever felt before. He wanted to beat that creature to a pulp, and he did get a few punches in, but it didn't make him feel any better. He had grief and anger mixing into a poison that almost stopped the very breath in his lungs. He didn't think he could do anything except sit there and feel the waves of pain at being rejected.

Sam didn't think he would ever forget the look in Frodo's eyes, right when he made the decision, stared straight at the heart of Sam and severed himself. Sam wanted to blame the ring for that, but he wasn't sure who was talking to him just then. He would never know.

In the end, he turned and forced his feet to climb down the stairs. He would do what Mr. Frodo asked of him, even if it was the last request he could honor. The broken edges of his heart felt like glass in his chest, as he made his way down, further away from the person he loved best in the world.