Warnings: Character death.
Everything seemed to move slowly as Sam swung the blade. A strangled cry echoed throughout the courtyard as the sword met its mark. For a moment, Sam stood silently, shaking. The only sound made in the yard was the dripping of blood. Sam gazed down at the ground. On the pavement sat a bloodied finger. There was slight glimmer of gold; it was Frodo's ring finger. He took a step toward it but ceased.
"Sam," a mere whisper.
The hobbit glared at the fallen form. Frodo was lying on the pavement grasping at his bleeding hand. Sam took a step back, expecting the other hobbit to burst into outrage. Frodo gazed up at Sam and immediately Sam's face softened. There was no hate in Frodo's eyes, no darkness covering his face, only a tired look and a weak smile. Sam had his old master back. Frodo extended his arms to him.
"Oh, Mr. Frodo!" Sam cried. He rushed forward, dropped the blade, and hugged his master. "You are back. You are really back. Oh, my master."
"Sam, Sam," Frodo murmured, holding him tightly. "I am so sorry. My dear Sam, I am amazed you would show me such affection after all....after all...."
"Do not speak about it," Sam said, pressing his finger on Frodo's lips. "You were possessed by The Ring. It was not your fault."
"But it was my fault, Sam," Frodo sighed. "I could have fought the temptation but like a coward I gave in. It was too powerful to resist; His temptation was too much. I should have been able to fight it. Now I have ruined all of Middle-earth, slaughtered thousands of innocent people. My God, my cousins. My dear cousins."
Frodo broke then. He wept bitterly as Sam tried to quiet him.
"Do not fret over it, Mr. Frodo," Sam said. "I am sure everything will work out for the best. We can work out the differences later. We have other things to worry about at this time. Besides, the important thing is that you are all right now. I will bandage your wound and we can resume our mission. Of course that is easier said then done. We must elude the orcs but I suppose that matter can wait for the moment."
"Sam," Frodo said.
"I must find a bandage," Sam said. "Oh, where could I get one?"
"Sam," Frodo continued.
"Wait, I think I have....."
"Sam!" Frodo yelled, grasping Sam's hands.
"What is it Mr. Frodo?" Sam asked.
"Sam, something is happening to me," Frodo whimpered. "I was fine before but now something is wrong. I can feel a force surging through me. Something is trying to bend me."
Sam blinked, staring silently for a moment, but frightened nonetheless. "I do not understand. What are you trying to say, master?"
Frodo looked at Sam sternly, fierce determination swirling in his blazing eyes. "The Ring, Sam. The Ring is beckoning me. I can hear Him, Sam. I can feel Him trying to manipulate me."
Sam shuddered, jerked back, and tried to rise. Frodo grabbed him and held him in place.
"Look at me," said Frodo.
Sam tried and could not. "Let me go Mr. Frodo!"
Then everything came crashing within him, and he began to cry. His cry was silent, only his heaving shoulders giving himself away. Sam closed his eyes and fought back against the rage swelling inside him. It was not supposed to be this way. No, his master was back and after all this time he could not possibly lose him. He knew all too well what Frodo had planned. He would not be a part of this deed. He reopened them to glare down at other hobbit. There was a dark confidence radiating from his face. He was unable to keep eye contact and glanced at the ground.
"I cannot lose you Mr. Frodo," Sam whispered. "I cannot bear it."
Frodo's hands clasped his. "Look at me Sam. I fear that you have already lost me. Now, look at me."
Taking a deep breath, Sam did so.
"Look into my eyes," Frodo murmured.
He did. He looked down into the soul of his oldest and most trusted friend. A wicked, icy glimmer looked back.
"It is starting again," Frodo sighed. "The power of The Ring is taking hold of me once more."
Sam shook his head in furious denial.
"I cannot let myself be taken, Sam," Frodo whimpered. "I cannot stand to think of returning to that hell, to His hell. But I cannot do it alone. You have to help me do this act."
"No," Sam cried. "No."
One hand slipped across the ground and pulled the sword to him. Sam shuddered and drew back, but Frodo grabbed his wrist and forced the butt end of the blade into his palm.
Frodo ran his other hand across Sam's cheek. "There is no more time for us. The friendship we had was wonderful and I would never trade our time spent together for anything. I do not regret a moment of it. I am proud of you, Samwise. Throughout this journey you have been my strength. If you had not accompanied me I would have never made it this far. I would have been lost without you. And still you are your own person, stayed the same even though the hell I have put you through. I can only hope and pray that one-day you will forgive the heinous acts I have inflicted on you. I love you, Samwise, my servant, but more over, my friend. I only ask that you help me complete this deed. There is nothing more that can be done. Our time here is finished."
Sam could not breathe; he could not see clearly. He felt nauseated and froth began to seep down his chin. "Oh, God, no! You cannot ask this of me! You cannot!"
"I have to!" Frodo snapped. "There is no one else. No one I could depend upon to do it right. Do you really think an orc could complete such a deed?"
"No!" He dropped the sword as if it had seared his skin. "I would rather," Sam choked, "be dead myself! I will not lose you Mr. Frodo! I have you back. You are normal again."
Frodo heard the desperation in Sam's voice. "Oh, my dear Sam. I know you mean well, but I fear that I am far from normal. The power of The Ring has destroyed my soul and I shall never be the same. My dear friend, please, do this for me."
Frodo reached down for the sword and placed it back in Sam's hands. Sam shook his head over and over, silently wording no, no, please no. He touched Sam chin and lifted his face, drawing his eyes once more to his own. Frodo's blue orbs had turned icy and glazed over, the wicked gleam now more pronounced, stronger.
"I am slipping back, Sam. I am being stolen from myself. You have to hurry before it is too late. Do it quickly. Do not let me become that monster again. I...I...." He was unable to finish, his hands shaking over Sam's. "You can do it. I cannot trust myself into doing it. I might....blotch it. I need you. Only you could make it as painless as possible."
Sam's muscles became tight, he could barely move. He glanced over his shoulder and into the sky desperately searching for any signs of help but he knew it was all in vain. He was trapped. There was no escape from this.
"There must be some other way!" Sam sobbed, his words frantic. "We could journey to Mount Doom and throw The Ring away. Once The Ring has disappeared into the cracks you will return to normal. You will be your old self again in no time." Tears were streaming, his vision blurry. "There is no need for this Mr. Frodo. I can save you! I do not care what you say! I can help you become normal again! Things can still be as they were! I know I can save you!"
Frodo's hands shook him. "There is but one way to save me Sam. Besides, the likelihood of me surviving such a perilous journey, especially the shape I am in, is slim. Further more, I would never allow you to throw The Ring into the fire. I would fight you to death and you know it. And even if you were to leave me here I would hunt you down once I gained all my strength back. There is nothing else that can be done. Let it go. Let me go. Help me. Take the sword and use it."
"No!" Sam wailed.
"You have to," Frodo moaned, stroking Sam's cheeks. Even in pain he rose in a sitting position and brought his face to Sam's. He kissed Sam on the nose and rubbed their foreheads together in a rocking motion. For a moment they remained locked in a tight embrace, crying on each other, rocking each other, soothing each other. It was the happiest moment Sam had felt in a long time, to be this close to his master, but it was not to last. "Please, Sam, you must do this. I know this must be difficult for you but it has to be done. Please, complete this task. You can do this. Only you can save what is left of Middle-earth. I know the journey will be strenuous but you are strong and can survive, even if you must do it alone."
"No!" Sam screamed, trying to squirm away.
"Please, Sam, you must!" Frodo yelled, tightening his hold. "You must take care of this before it is too late! Do it before I change back! Do it while you are still able!"
"No," Sam groaned. "Please, do not make me do this. I love you Mr. Frodo. I cannot do this to you. You are all I have left in this world."
Frodo's hand swept up suddenly as if to strike Sam and instinctively he reacted. He brought up the sword over Frodo's chest to counter the attack, hovering inches from his heart. Their eyes locked. For a moment Sam saw the terrible recognition. Frodo was transforming before him. The soft face had become gnarled and his eyes dark, menacing. It stunned Sam and he held his breath.
"Quick Sam," Frodo hissed.
He did not move. Frodo took Sam's hand and gently lowered it until the tip of the blade was resting against his chest.
"Do it Sam," Frodo said.
"No," Sam said.
This time Frodo did strike. It took Sam off guard and fell to the ground clutching at his stinging cheek. Sam stood back up and sobbed.
"Do it Sam," Frodo said, tears staining his cheeks. "I do not want to do that to you again. I hate causing you pain but I will do whatever it takes to make you do this."
"I do not care," Sam cried. "You could beat me to a bloody pulp and I still would not do this."
Frodo raised his hand again but soon lowered it. "I suppose you would not."
Sam could only let a sob. He clenched his eyes shut and fought the onslaught of tears. He began to shake his head back and forth.
"Sam, help me," Frodo pleaded desperately. "Please, my friend. I know you do not want to do this but you know in your heart there is no other way. You have to do it for the good of Middle-earth and yourself."
"No," Sam muttered, furiously wiping at his eyes. "No good can come out of this."
"Please, help me," Frodo said, drawing closer.
He looked into Frodo's eyes then, deep inside, and into the icy haze that was consuming him. The power of The Ring was gnawing at his mind. Sam suddenly forgot the terror he had lived through the past few days. He remembered the old days in The Shire. He remembered how he used to run in the fields as child alongside Frodo and his cousins. He remembered how Frodo helped when he cut his hand while gardening, the sheer gentleness of the touch. He remembered those lonely nights on their journey when they huddled together and told each other tales to pass the time.
He felt Frodo's breath on his face. He felt the closeness he once found familiar and comforting. He felt a pair of hands circling around his neck.
"Mr. Frodo," Sam whispered in despair.
He rammed the steel into Frodo's chest. As the blade sheathed itself within Frodo he laid down to the ground. He made no noise, only his face gave everything away. But there was no look of pain, only one of peace and release. Although he spoke no words Sam could see the unsaid thank you in Frodo's eyes. Frodo took one final breath and moved no more. Tears were forming in Sam's eyes again. He ran his hand across Frodo's face as he held the listless form in his arms.
"Mr. Frodo?" Sam asked. Finally, realization came crashing down in waves on Sam. Frodo was dead.
He broke then. The courtyard was soon full of cries, obscenities, and pleas. He found himself rocking back and forth with his face buried in Frodo's damp curls, drenched from his tears. For hours he remained seated with Frodo's body until he was finally able to tear himself away.
"I am sorry master," Sam cried. "I am sorry that I do not have time to give you a proper burial. I have to go to Mount Doom now. Even if I must go alone, I will complete this mission for you, for all of us. I doubt I will return but, if by some small miracle, I do survive I will return for your body. If I can help it Barad-dur shall not be your final resting-place. I can only hope the orcs do not lay waste to your body with my departure."
He rose from the ground, sheathed the sword in his belt, and slowly strolled toward the bloodied finger. The Ring still shined in the light. Sam found himself enticed by the glimmer. The Ring looked so appealing to him. He reached down to run his fingers across the metal. Instantly, a jolt shot through him but when he expected pain he found a strange pleasure. The Ring was soon torn away and the finger thrown aside. Sam rubbed it back and forth in his palm, his eyes glazing from the energy surging inside him. The closer he brought The Ring to the tips of his fingers, the urge to slip it on grew. In the corner of his eye Sam could see Frodo's body. The urge dissipated and the murky haze followed. Cursing, he placed The Ring in his trouser pocket.
"God help me," he whimpered. "It is bad enough I will make this journey alone but now I have the lure of The Ring to deal with as well. I will not succumb to it though. No, I will complete this mission for Frodo."
He moved over to the body and kissed the cold forehead. "Good-bye, my dear master. I hope at last that you have found peace. You and I shall not be alone for long I suppose. I may join you yet but, hopefully, after I destroy this accursed object." He gave Frodo's hand a final squeeze and used a dirty sheet to cover his form. "Good-bye."
Sam ran from the courtyard numb from grief and half blind from tears. As he fled he was so consumed with emotion that he failed to notice a presence watching over him. It was a shape, shrouded in darkness, hiding on the balcony. It gave chase, keeping itself a fair distance from the running hobbit.
More to follow.