Title: Nice Hobbit

Author: Anemone Frost

Email: Weepingwillow987@aol.com

Rating: PG-13

Summary: The Ring's call over Sam intensifies.

Feedback: Yes, please.

Warnings: None

Archive: If you think it's good enough. Contact first.

Author's Note: To all the reviewers, thank you so much for your kind words. I never thought this fic would get good reviews, for some reason. Now, I must move onto something....different.


Hillary Scherr: you write a lot of angst, don't you. Handle

I remember you. You're the one that wrote that god awful fic on how much you hate Lord of the Rings, how stupid it is, how ugly Elijah Wood is, blah, blah, blah. Hm, it seems your reviews are as pointless as your fics. I also notice that fic is gone now. Aw, did the bombardment of flames become too much for you to handle? Answering your question, yes I do write a lot of angst and I do like it. Exactly how long did it take for you to figure that out?

Ok, enough ranting. It's time to move on with the fic.

A veil of mist clung over the land, making everything appear gloomy, but that did little to dampen Sam's mood. Frodo was close at his side, which was a different, welcome change. Gollum was a few paces ahead, occasionally glaring back at the two hobbits. He was completely hunched over, rubbing his hands nervously, muttering to himself. Sam could tell that Gollum noticed the change, and it seemed to make the creature agitated. Smiling, he crawled back to Frodo, tugging on his cloak, urging him to move faster.

"We're getting close, master," Gollum chirped. "Very close. Won't you come and walk with us?"

"Thank you Smeagol, but I'm talking with Sam for the moment," Frodo answered, unclasping the creature's hands. "You're more then welcome to stay by both our sides."

Gollum eyed Sam narrowly and snorted. Sam returned the sentiment. Growling something inaudible, Gollum scampered off, always keeping his gaze moving from Frodo to Sam.

Sam smirked. "Why, Mr. Frodo, I believe that Stinker is jealous."

Frodo shook his head and sighed. "Something is bothering him."

"You know, it's almost like.....no," Sam said, shaking the thought off.

"Go on, tell me," Frodo urged.

"Well, sir, it almost seems like he wants us to be apart," Sam replied. "It's like he wants us to be fighting with one another, always at each other's throats. That makes no sense though, I suppose. Why would he want that?"

Frodo's eyes widened. "Actually, that does make sense Sam."

"It does?" Sam inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"Think about it for a moment," Frodo muttered. "He knows how violent I can become if I feel the Ring is about to be taken, and he knows I can release this madness on you, Sam, my dear friend. I think he wants me to kill you or perhaps for you to kill me. That way, there would only be one of us left. This would give him a better opportunity to steal the Ring."

"That rotten Stinker," Sam snarled, grabbing at his sword. "I'm tellin' you, Mr. Frodo, he's too dangerous to have around."

Frodo stilled his hand. "Sam, it's only a theory. Besides, he has kept true to his word so far, so there is no excuse for killing him."

"But if we wait for him to make a move, then you could get hurt Mr. Frodo," Sam pleaded. "I don't want anything to happen to you."

"Don't worry Sam, nothing will happen," Frodo assured.

Frodo smiled, and patted Sam on the shoulder. Sam watched his master stroll a few paces ahead. A slight pang had started to grow in his chest, turning into a burning pressure. His body felt heavy, and he began to lag behind.

You're doing it again, Samwise Gamgee.

'What am I doing?' Sam asked, annoyed.

You're letting him lead you to downfall.

'What are you ramblin' on about!' Sam snapped.

Once more he's putting all his trust in that creature. Nothing has changed. He still views you as worthless, compared to Gollum.

'That's not true!' Sam growled.

He tried to kill you the other night, did he not? What more proof do you need?

'I— I— ' Sam stuttered. 'The Ring possessed him! It wasn't his fault! Besides, he stopped himself!'

No, you stopped him, remember? Poor Sam. That must have hurt your fist when you had to punch him.

'Stop,' Sam moaned.

When are you going to see the truth? Will you only see it when Frodo, your precious master, shoves his hard, cold blade into your heart or shall you still deny it even with death at your side? He's getting weaker, Sam. The Ring will take him over, and in the end, he will kill you.

'Please,' Sam thought, starting to tremble.

You know it's true. One of these nights, Frodo is going to slice you to bits.

'Please,' Sam repeated, hunching over. His stomach burned, and it felt as if he would vomit. 'Please, stop.'

Take the Ring, Sam. Why should he carry it when you're more fit for the task?

Sam convulsed under the pressure, and began to spit into the ground, trying to clear his throat of the bitter bile.

"Sam?" Frodo asked.

The hobbit gazed up, finding his master watching in concern. He smiled.

"I'm alright, Mr. Frodo," Sam murmured. "I'm just feeling a bit sick, but I'm sure it'll pass."

Frodo nodded, and strode on. A frown formed, and Sam's face contorted with anger as he saw Gollum pacing alongside his master.

He'll lose the Ring to Gollum. You know it in your heart; you know what you must do. Take the Ring.

'No, I can't,' Sam whimpered.

Aw, you're afraid of harming dear Frodo.

'I won't do it,' Sam snarled, rising back to his feet. 'He'll try to fight back. I— I can't— '

He's going to kill you Sam! You have to act first! Take the Ring!

A sharp twinge coursed down Sam's spine; something was taking over his being. He didn't understand how it was happening, and the more he tried to fight sensation, the stronger it seemed to become. It had spread all over, leaving the hobbit in a state of dizziness. He was walking again, but he wasn't controlling his movements. Fear and panic entered his mind when he spotted Frodo in front of him, turning briefly to smile warmly at Sam, unaware to the change. An ache coursed through his mouth as he tried to call out to Frodo, but his jaw refused to open. His hand snaked down, griping the handle of the sword tightly, drawing it slowly. The other hand reached out, grasping Frodo's shoulder, holding him in place with the tip of the sword being pressed in the back of his neck.

"Give me the Ring," Sam snarled.

To be continued.