We reached the slopes of Mount Doom when the world seemed to have died. Not a sprig of life grew among those black rocks. And it was black! Not grey or brown but pure black. I heard the rumble within it like some great monster. Like a great Balrog. I looked up instinctively and saw fire raining down from the mighty crater at the peak. A path drew up around the side, cut into the rock as if someone had bitten it. As my mind was occupied with the whole vastness of the mountain, Frodo let out a slight moan and dropped down beside me. He was twitching with spasms of pain. I fell to my knees beside him.

"Master! What's wrong?"

"Too tired," he managed to croak. Then he rolled over and closed his eyes. Not now, a voice in my head screamed, no, it can't be here! Thoughts rushed through my head. And at last I made up my mind.

"I may not be able to carry It for you, but I can help. I said even if I had to carry you to the very Cracks of Doom I would. Now's the time."

I assisted Frodo to his feet and then he scrambled onto my back. He weighed nothing. I couldn't believe it. So ravaged from wounds and weakened by starvation, it was no more than.well, than carrying little Elanor on my back.

"Onwards, then," I said. I walked up to the pathway and started the arduous climb up. I could sense my every muscle and bone moving as I walked. I could feel my whole skeleton working to my movements. It was like watching myself from the side and each little screw and cog winding inside me. We went on for about two hours and my back began to grow taught from being bent for so long.

"My precious! We have it! We haves it!"

A sudden weight knocked Frodo from my arms and I toppled forward. There was a searing pain and the back of my hands tore open to blood on the sharp rocks beneath.

"Gollum!" I shouted and struggled up to turn round. My master and that horrible creature were locked together, clawing and biting, rolling about. For one terrible moment I thought they would roll off into the abyss. But then Frodo stood victorious over Gollum, tall and proud, his chest heaving with exertion.

"Never touch me again!" he bellowed. His voice was like thunder, ringing about the land, clear as bells. It resounded over and over. "Never!" His voice shook slightly with anger.

"Save us, precious!" Gollum was weeping, "Spare us! Nice hobbit, nice bagginses. We be good!"

I felt prickles in the back of my neck. My eyes were drawn to the horizon. It was all up! There it was, clear as day, clearer maybe in this wasteland, the eye. He had seen us. He was watching now and He was there. He was seeing straight to my master. Straight to the.

"Frodo, go! Go now!"

He turned to me and nodded. Gollum still cowered on the ledge, long fingers entwining his brow. He rocked back and forth, muttering piteously to himself. Frodo moved slowly and steadily up the path, head held high. I turned to face Gollum. His fingers parted and I saw a snarl form on his face. But something deep inside me was moving. Through all the panic, all the fear, something had changed in me. Gollum was worn thin, the outline of his skull visible through the bruised grey skin.

And as I raised a fist to strike, I felt nothing behind it. There was no anger, just sorrow and.pity. It felt odd somehow. But I could not strike him.

"Go back, Smeagol," I instructed him, "Go and live out the rest of your life here. That is punishment enough for anyone. Go quickly, while I'm in a good mood!"

And when I next blinked, I saw him leave. Wordlessly making his way down. And then Gollum passed out of sight; gone.