Chapter 10
Gollum was weary to the point of exhaustion, but he didn't stop. He was hungry, driven by a craving for revenge. His shrunken and wasted body trembled as he clambered through the dense undergrowth at the side of the river Bruinen. He had journeyed for weeks with barely any rest or food at all. He had left Mordor on his purposeful quest, the ring on one of his bony fingers, its shine long faded and holding no powers save the ability to provide Gollum with the strength to seek revenge upon his most hated enemy. Without the ring, Gollum would have long since perished from hunger and tiredness, but due to his power the foul and decayed creature was able to make the long and tedious journey to The Shire, where he believed Frodo was.
He had avoided Lórien, mainly because of his endless hatred and fear of the elven folk, and he intended to do exactly the same when he reached Rivendell. As he neared the final stages of his pursuit, the creature felt the intense hunger grow inside him, and he repeatedly visualised the moment when his fingers would find the Frodo's throat and proceed in strangling the very breath from his lungs. Each time this grotesque thought entered his rotted mind, Gollum would smile cruelly and a look of perverse happiness would spread over his ghastly face.
He was still many miles from Rivendell, but he did not for a moment consider abandoning his quest. Steadily he journeyed on, drawing nearer and nearer to his goal.
It was in the early hours of the morning, nearly dawn, when Smeágol spotted something in the trees by the river. Stealthily he crept towards the glade, keeping his head low and his body close to the ground. Through the branches and the gloom he could pick out the shape of a large white horse and a small figure. The figure was laying in the grass, his chest rising and falling in a constant rhythm. Gollum felt a stir of excitement as he recognised the figure as a hobbit, and he prowled even closer, not making a sound. As the hobbit's face became visible, the creature gave a hiss of disgust and disappointment. It was not Frodo at all, but his suspicious companion. A look of despising formed on his face as he peered down, but suddenly it dissolved into a sly smile as a plan quickly formulated in his mind. As much as he loathed the hobbit, it could have its uses.
Noiselessly Smeágol rummaged through the contents of the hobbit's satchel, and to his delight he found a tin flask. He slunk back over to Sam again, who was just beginning to stir, and brought the flask down on the hobbit's head with all the strength in his scrawny arms, until he was certain that he was completely unconscious. Then Gollum quickly removed Sam's elven clasp and cloak, shuddering as his hands touched the silky material. He drew the small dagger from the hobbit's sheath and slashed the cloak savagely and repeatedly, spittle escaping his mouth and a wild, vicious look in his moon-like eyes. He then took the cloak out of the small copse and spread it on the path by the riverside, setting the leaf clasp in the middle with a contented cackle.
Smeágol then hurried back to the hobbit and saw that there was also some old and discarded elven rope in the very bottom of the satchel, the very same kind that had been used to bound his hands and feet on the outskirts of the marshes. Gollum hastily snatched the twine from the bag and quickly used it to secure the hobbit's wrists and ankles, ignoring the pain that he felt in his hands when they made contact with the rope.
Blessed with fresh strength, Gollum grabbed a chunk of the hobbit's hair and dragged him away and deeper into the woods to wait.
***
Legolas and Frodo had been riding for many hours, through the entire night. Legolas was beginning to feel exhausted, and he knew that they must rest soon, perhaps when it was light again. Frodo had not spoken since they set off from Rivendell, so the elf was not sure if he was awake or sleeping. He was deeply concerned for him and was regretting allowing him to come.
With a heavy-hearted sigh, Legolas cast his eyes out over the path ahead, and spotted something in the road. It was still not wholly light and he peered hard to try and distinguish what it was. As they drew nearer he gave the reins a sharp tug and the horse slowed to a trot and then into a steady walk. The hobbit did not stir so quietly Legolas brought the horse to a stand and smoothly dismounted. He walked the remaining distance to the object on the path, and when he reached it he inhaled sharply. He knelt down and picked up the beautiful pin and cloak, his eyes widening in shock.
"What is it?"
The elf started when he heard the voice behind him, and he turned to see Frodo standing behind him, his face pale and his eyes puzzled.
"It's..." Legolas did not finish his sentence, but stared down at the items in his hands. He heard Frodo come closer and he closed his eyes, not wanting to see the hobbit's reaction.
"But..." The hobbit could not say anything more, but he sank to his knees opposite Legolas and stared at Sam's things. Frodo's whole body began to tremble and the elf observed him worriedly, not knowing what to do.
Frodo dug his fingers into the muddy path as an unbearable and overwhelming sadness swept his body like a wave and left him completely numb,
"You were right," He murmured.
"Right about what?" Legolas prompted quietly, feeling tears at the corners of his eyes.
"You were all right," Frodo said, his voice suddenly loud and enraged. He stood up unexpectedly, "You, Aragorn, Sam! I was too weak to come, I'm too weak to do anything! If I'd have been stronger then none of this..." He angrily gestured towards the ruined cloak, "...none of this would have happened. He came out here to save me," The anger abruptly died and his voice cracked, "Sam is dead, and it's my fault."
Legolas didn't know what to say, so he remained silent, and silent tears began to spill down Frodo's face as he collapsed back to the ground.
They sat like there for what seemed hours until gradually the sound of horse hooves broke the silence that had fallen. Legolas dragged himself to his feet and looked back along the path from where they had come. He saw another horse rushing towards them, and as it neared the elf recognised the rider as Aragorn. Frodo didn't raise his head.
Within minutes Aragorn had reached them and he dismounted quickly, glancing at Frodo in concern before turning to Legolas,
"What is it?" He asked urgently, seeing the elf's dispirited expression and red eyes. Legolas thrust the slashed cloak into Aragorn's hands and he held it up, feeling the shock hit him as realisation dawned.
Discarding the cloak, Aragorn rushed quickly to Frodo, who was still hunched silently in the road.
"Frodo?" He asked quietly, and the hobbit raised his eyes, only half conscious. Aragorn pulled his friend to him, feeling the hobbit tremble in his arms.
"Is there no use left in hoping?" Legolas asked softly. Aragorn did not reply.
Next chapter up soon