As Sam stepped into the wilderness he suddenly wished that he could stay in the confines of Barad-dur. The wind was picking up, blowing sand into his watering eyes and scorching his face with bitter heat. In the distance he see the shape of Orodruin spitting fire. It almost made him turn back. Then, he remembered the promise he gave Frodo; he remembered eluding the orcs. No, after all the misery and trouble he had gone through it would be pointless to lay down and give up. He tried to push the doubt and fear out of his mind but it kept seeping in. He moved slowly, forcing his feet forward with every step.

'Come now, Samwise,' he told himself. 'Keep yourself moving. You know you cannot linger in this area.'

A distant shriek made him shudder. 'Once the wraiths and orcs discover Frodo's body they will start ransacking the place for me. I can only hope to gain a fair distance before they start searching this wasteland.'

Above him the sky began to darken and the intense heat began to dissipate.

"Wonderful," he muttered. "Of all the times I could have left it had to be during nightfall. Now instead of dealing with the heat I have to deal with the bitter cold. I suppose I will have to find some sort of shelter. Besides, I feel as if I will not be able to travel the rest of the night. The last thing I need to do is fall asleep out in the open. Then I would be joining Frodo all too soon."

He journeyed over the bridge and left the paved road to venture into barren land. When he thought he was a safe distance from the tower Sam began to search for possible shelter. Within minutes he found a shallow cave and collapsed to the floor. He tightly wrapped a cloak around his body and drifted into uneasy slumber. Unaware to him a dark shape sat looming over the entrance, only peering but not yet making a move to enter. It knelt down, pondering what its next actions would be. The figure seemed to come to a decision and it slowly began to inch deeper and deeper into the cave.

A low moan came from Sam. A burning sensation was forming on the side of his hip. The pain roused from the short sleep and his fingers fumbled into the trouser pockets. Immediately he pulled The Ring out and the burning on his lower body subsided. However, the searing pain spread all over his fingers causing him to howl and flay. The Ring fell to the ground letting out a loud clink.

The figure huddled to the wall of the cave and stared down at the glimmering gold. It remained still, staring, hypnotized, for the moment.

For a moment Sam glared down at the object, unable to bring himself to pick it up. Soft footsteps echoed in the cave. Sam jerked, spun around, and backed up from the entrance. He slid his hand across the floor to reach for the sword. As he did so the hobbit's fingers grazed over The Ring. A sudden jolt surged through his body forcing a scream from his mouth. His fingers dove into the ground allowing The Ring to slide over the tip of his finger.

"Sam."

Sam found himself running into darkness but it soon gave way to light. A soft breeze grazed across his face and he smelled a familiar scent of pine. His eyes focused and he saw ranging hills and small forms working in fields. He was home in The Shire. In the distance he heard a faint voice, recognized it, and moved toward it.

"Sam."

That voice again, familiar yet not. Sam turned and glanced at the soft earth to view Frodo lying on his back. He rose from the ground and stretched his arms out in welcome. Tears of relief trickled down his cheeks as he knelt next to his master.

"Mr. Frodo?" Sam asked. "Wh-I do not understand this. What has taken place? Why am I here?"

"Does it matter, Sam?" Frodo asked. "We are back home again and things are as they were." Frodo frowned. "I thought it would it please you to be home once again. What ever is the matter?"

Sam wiped at his eyes. "Oh, I am grateful to be here, master. It just...it just does not seem to be real if you understand me. It feels too good to be true. What magic brought me here?"

Frodo smiled. "But it is real, Sam. It matters not how it came to be only we have the rest of our lives to be at peace. You never have to worry about anything ever again."

"We have plenty to worry about though, Mr. Frodo," Sam sighed. "I know it is a miracle to be home but I will be unable to stay. I have yet to destroy The Ring. I will have to leave The Shire and return to Mordor."

A change came over Frodo's face, his features darkened. "Ah, yes, The Ring. I assume you still have it on you. May I see it, please?"

Sam began to inch away. "I do not think that would be wise, Mr. Frodo."

Before Sam could go any further, Frodo latched onto his arm and pulled him back. His blue eyes were shining madly. "And why is that, friend? I only want to look at it once more before you....destroy it. I will not take it from you. I would never do such a thing to dampen your trust of me."

"Mr. Frodo, you are hurting my arm," Sam gasped, wincing in pain. "Let me go sir."

Frodo ignored his words. "Why will you not permit me to view The Ring? I already told you I would not take it. Let me see it."

"No," Sam said, attempting to free his arm. The grip began to tighten and he forced himself to keep from panicking. "Release me, Mr. Frodo."

Frodo leaned into Sam's ear and hissed. "I will not, not until you show me The Ring."

"No," Sam repeated.

When Sam felt Frodo's hand beginning to search his body, he struggled to free himself. Soon he found himself thrown on his back and pinned under Frodo's weight. Hands were roaming over his body, searching over and under his shirt and finally heading toward his trouser pocket. Sam tensed as the hand slowly made its way in. Sam tried to throw Frodo off but was rewarded with a hard fist in his abdomen. He grunted in pain.

"Where is it?" Frodo growled. "I know you have it somewhere on you. Tell me where!"

"Mr. Frodo, please," Sam moaned.

A smirk formed on his face when he saw Sam squirm. "Oh, so you are hiding it one of your pockets, aren't you? Well, since it is not in this one it must be in the other."

Frodo's hand snaked toward the other pocket. Immediately Sam bucked and sent Frodo sprawling. The hobbit shot back up glaring fiercely at Sam. His fists clenched tightly.

"I see how it is now," Frodo spat. "You would keep it for yourself!"

"Mr. Frodo no!" Sam wailed. "I have no intentions of keeping the cursed thing! I only wish to rid Middle-earth of it."

"I cannot allow you do such a thing," Frodo snarled. "Now, be a good little hobbit and give me back what is rightfully mine."

A realization suddenly dawned on Sam. This creature before him was not his master. Slowly, he inched away and dark eyes followed his every movement. Instinctively he reached for his sword but found his belt empty.

"Whatever is the matter Sam?" Frodo asked. "You should not fear me. I will not hurt you."

"Stay away from me," Sam hissed. "Whatever you are, stay away."

"That is no way to treat your master," Frodo snapped.

"You are not my master," Sam muttered.

Darkness seeped over Frodo's face. His eyes became downcast and the scenery around them began to shift. Without warning Sam no longer found himself in total darkness. Although he could see nothing he certainly felt a presence with him. He made an attempt to move.

Give it to me.

Sam froze. It wasn't a voice he heard but more of thought that raced through his mind. It sent chills down his spine and made his hair stand at end. His hand crept toward the trouser pocket. His eyes widened at the movement and he fought to stop.

Give me what is mine.

His hand encircled The Ring and he began to draw it out. He could feel the sweat forming on his brow from his efforts. Pain laced over his body while he slowly lost the grip on The Ring. His hands were replaced with others. Bony, slimy hands groped at his sides, nails digging into his flesh.

Give me The Ring.

He felt like screaming then but he could not force words from his lips. He began to flay like a mad thing. The hands dug deeper, piercing his soft flesh.

Sam awoke. A cold sweat had broken out all his body and his breaths came in ragged pants. There was the faintest sound of scuttling feet from behind. Sam's breaths caught in his throat. His heart rate increased pounding like a drum in his chest and his face became flushed. As the intruder inched closer a familiar scent blew by him. The scent of dead things. Sam moved his hand cautiously to his belt and then remembered. The sword was no longer there but a few feet in front of him. The footsteps became louder, closer. Sam turned his head to gain a better view of the side of the cave. Pale eyes and warm, stale breath to the back of his neck greeted him. He recognized the intruder all too late. When he drew out the sword back teeth sank into his wrist, eliciting a sharp scream. The sword was dropped and Sam was pressed face first into the stone surface.

"No, no!" Sam yelled. "You are dead! I saw you fall into the cracks and consumed by the fire!"

"Hisss! Not dead, not dead," Gollum growled. "We fall, yes, very close to the fire after nasty hobbit hurt us. But we held onto the rocks and climbed our way out. Yes, my Precious. Nasty, wicked hobbit broke most our teeth but we manage, yes we do. We have searched for the Precious for days. No food or rest. Only rocks and dust, dust and rocks. So hungry."

"What do you want from me you foul creature?" Sam snapped, squirming.

"Give it to us," Gollum hissed. "Give the Precious back to Gollum. Yes, give the Precious back to us. The Precious belongs with us."

"Get off me you vile thing!" Sam screamed.

Gollum slid his hands around Sam's neck causing the hobbit to squeak in fear. He was soon gasping for air as the clammy hands began to tighten around his airway. "We will take the Precious from you. Hisss. What right does the nasty hobbit have in keeping if from us? Where does the hobbit hide it? Does the hobbit have it somewhere in its jacket, on its neck, or perhaps in its pockets?" Gollum gazed about. "Maybe on the dirty ground?"

"No, no!" Sam cried, drawing Gollum's attention. "I do not have it! Frodo has it back in Barad-dur! I escaped from the tower!"

The statement earned Sam a scrape across his shoulder. "Wicked hobbit is trying to cheat us!" Gollum spat. "We saw everything back in the tower! We saw you take the Precious." He licked his lips. "We saw you kill the other hobbit. Yes, we saw you cut his finger off and then drive cruel steel into his chest and you took the Precious. Yes, you took the Precious from him to keep for yourself."

Tears seeped down Sam's cheeks. "I did no such thing. I never intended to take The Ring for myself."

"You killed the other hobbit though," Gollum continued, preying on Sam's weakness. "We saw it, you cannot deny it. You killed the other hobbit in cold blood."

"I had no choice," Sam sobbed. "He was turning and he forced me."

"He never forced you, no," Gollum said. "We saw, you did it of your own free will. Killed your own master. Killed for the Precious....just like us."

Fury rose up in Sam. "I am nothing like you, you miserable wretch! I wish to destroy your Precious, not keep it! And I will be rid of it just as I will be rid of you if you do not release me!"

"We cannot allow that," Gollum hissed. "No, we will allow no such thing. The Precious will leave with us, one way or the other. Give it to us, now."

"I already gave you my answer!" Sam yelled, bucking wildly.

The grip around his throat tightened. "We will take the Precious soon but not before we eat. So hungry. So hungry." His mouth touched the nape of Sam's neck. "Does it taste good, my Precious? Does the hobbit taste good?"

Sam felt his insides curl in disgust as Gollum fastened his lips around the bite wound, gently suckling on the flowing blood. The hobbit tried to crawl away, throw the creature off, even cry for help but it was all in vain. If he had not been weakened from lack of food, beaten down to almost nothing, then he might have been able to fight back. He soon gave up his struggles and lay helplessly on the cold floor. He welcomed the fate that the creature had in store for him.

More to follow.