Chapter 3 On the Road
Sam leaned against the wall of the cavern, his eyes closed with weariness. Two of Kuros' companions had led the hobbit to this cavern whose opening led to the Plateau of Gorgoroth. From here, he would be able to reach the road he and Frodo had followed on their hellish journey towards Mt. Doom. Sam didn't know if orcs or other troops of Sauron's army were using the road that led towards Minas Morgul, but Sam didn't think he had the strength to travel cross country again. The terrain was rough and merciless. No water was to be found in the desolate wilderness and Sam didn't relish the thought of going through that again. Kuros had given him water and food, but Sam would have to ration it carefully as he didn't know when he would be able to replenish his meager supplies. Kuros had also given him a flask containing a clear amber liquid called the Elixir of Tidak which helped revitalize him but had little in the way of additional healing powers. Kuros explained that although the elixir had saved his life, it was not a miracle cure. He knew he had to ration the elixir as well as he had no idea how long it would take him to reach Gondor. The elixir helped alleviate the pain, but when it wore off, things seemed even worse. Kuros told him not to depend on it too heavily. It could make him feel better and cause him to do more than he should, thus aggravating his injuries. So, he had to be careful in using it. "I wouldn't mind soakin' in a barrel o' this stuff!" he sighed to himself as he packed the flask away.
He planned to retrace the route he and Frodo had taken to Mt. Doom. He didn't much like the thought of passing through Cirith Ungol again, but he hoped that maybe the city of Minas Morgul had been abandoned now that Sauron had fallen. He did worry about meeting up with the giant spider, Shelob, but he would have to cross that bridge when he came to it. He still had Sting and it had proven effective against her before. Hopefully, it would again, if it came down to it. He also had the Lady's phial and he knew how useful that could be.
Sam had decided to wait until nightfall before heading out. The scorching rays of the sun were brutal in these wastelands and moving by night would help him conserve his water. He slumped down onto the dusty floor and stared out through the opening. It was partially concealed by rocks outside, but he still felt exposed. His thoughts once again fell on his lost master. Where could Frodo be? Was he killed on Mt. Doom or had he been rescued by the eagles? Sam desperately wanted to believe the latter. Finding Frodo was the only thing that kept him going. If he did manage to make it to Minas Tirith and found that Frodo had been killed, then the least he could do was to make sure everyone knew what a hero his dear master had been. Carrying that ring for so long and for so far had nearly destroyed him. Tears came to Sam's eyes as he remembered the wild look in Frodo's eyes when the Ring had finally triumphed in the fiery darkness of Sammath Naur. It was the worst moment of Sam's life as he realized he had lost Frodo to the evil of the Ring's power at last. He gave a small laugh. Well, that Stinker had proved to be the savior in the end.
He thought about the lonely journey ahead. How he wished Frodo was with him! It was bad enough making the trip the first time, but at least he wasn't alone. Helping Frodo had given Sam the strength he had needed that time. He didn't have that same incentive now. However, he didn't much like the idea of dying out here alone in the bleak lands of Mordor. "If I'm going to die on this journey, I'd much rather do it in a nicer place, like Ithilien, maybe. If I die here, I'm just as likely to be eaten by some passing orc! No, thank you!" He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. Despite his fear and pain, he was finally able to sleep.
When he woke, several hours later, the sun was just disappearing over the horizon. "Alright, Samwise Gamgee" he said to himself, "Now's the time for it. Time for you to leave this awful place and go home!" He lifted his small, battered pack. It had made the journey all the way from the Shire with him. All he had left was his elven rope, his Lothlorien cloak and the Lady's gifts. He had dumped all his other gear into a crevasse on the final leg of their trip to Mt. Doom. "I surely do miss my cooking pots!" he thought sadly. "Not that I have anything to cook!" The pack also carried the supplies given to him by Kuros. Still it was not too heavy and although painful to put on, Sam was able to tolerate it. He peered out through the rocks again, but had to step back into the cavern as a deep, racking cough convulsed his thin body. Gasping for breath, he leaned against the wall to rest. He could taste blood. He waited as the sharp pain from his broken ribs gradually subsided into a throbbing ache. Breathing was difficult at best and again, the despairing hobbit wondered how he would ever manage.
After a few moments, Sam pushed himself from the wall and staggered to the cave opening again. He listened carefully and hearing nothing, stepped outside and limped up the slope to road above. The climb was a steep one, but by sheer determination, Sam made it to the top. He looked both ways and again listened carefully, but no sound was to be heard. Taking a deep breath and hitching up his pack, Sam turned west and started on his way.
The road was broad and empty and it made Sam's journey much easier. However, his progress was slow and he found he had to stop frequently to rest. "This will never do," he panted as he stopped for the fourth time in an hour. "I'll never get out of Mordor at this rate!" He was frustrated by his lack of strength and stamina. His head was throbbing and the bandage covering the wound he had sustained from being knocked down by Gollum was soaked with a cold sweat. He was frequently racked by bloody bouts of coughing which left him feeling spent. He reached into his pack and slowly removed the flask containing the elixir. He uncorked the top and took a deep draught of the spicy liquid. He closed his eyes and almost immediately felt new strength flow through his limbs. Maybe he shouldn't take it too often, but he would need it if he were to make any progress at all. He climbed to his feet and headed purposefully down the road.
His luck held for the next several days and he met no one on the empty road. He traveled by night and rested where he could during the day. There wasn't much shelter in this barren wilderness, but he could usually find some rocks that provided at least the illusion of cover. He took the elixir more than he knew he aught, but justified it in his mind saying that he just needed it until he escaped from Mordor. He wouldn't need it so much after that. He hoped.
On the seventh day after leaving the relative safety of the Muroks' labyrinth under Mt. Doom, Sam's luck finally gave out. It was late evening and Sam had at last reached the foothills of Ephel Duat'h. He shivered with apprehension as he looked towards the towers of Minas Morgul in the distance, shining silver in the moonlight. He remembered the last time he and Frodo had been in this terrible place and Frodo's rescue from the tower of Cirith Ungol. His poor master had been cruelly treated there and of course there was that hideous spider, Shelob. A small smile came to Sam's lips as he remembered the frightened orcs claiming that a powerful Elf-warrior had vanquished the monster. That so- called "warrior-Elf" had been none other than a small, frightened hobbit by the name of Samwise Gamgee. "Oh Mr. Frodo," he sighed to himself, "Thank goodness you're not here to have to see this awful place again!"
Sam was exhausted and decided not to go any further into the pass. He resolved to rest for the remainder of the night and attempt the pass in the morning. He hoped that by traveling through the dark, dank passageways under the mountains during the daytime, he might avoid seeing Shelob. If he did cross paths with the horrible creature, he still had the elven blade, Sting, as well as the Lady's light. That had deterred the spider before. He was really hoping that she was still deep in her lair, nursing her wound from their last encounter. He found a small alcove among some rocks, tucked his pack under his head and settled down to sleep.
"Well, well, well. What little rat 'ave we here?" Sam woke with a start as a deep, rasping voice sounded in his ear. Gasping for breath and clutching his sore ribs, he abruptly sat up and found himself face to face with the cruel, leering face of large orc! Sam couldn't say a word. He looked around, panic stricken, and realized he was surrounded by four more grinning monsters. He was trapped!
Sam leaned against the wall of the cavern, his eyes closed with weariness. Two of Kuros' companions had led the hobbit to this cavern whose opening led to the Plateau of Gorgoroth. From here, he would be able to reach the road he and Frodo had followed on their hellish journey towards Mt. Doom. Sam didn't know if orcs or other troops of Sauron's army were using the road that led towards Minas Morgul, but Sam didn't think he had the strength to travel cross country again. The terrain was rough and merciless. No water was to be found in the desolate wilderness and Sam didn't relish the thought of going through that again. Kuros had given him water and food, but Sam would have to ration it carefully as he didn't know when he would be able to replenish his meager supplies. Kuros had also given him a flask containing a clear amber liquid called the Elixir of Tidak which helped revitalize him but had little in the way of additional healing powers. Kuros explained that although the elixir had saved his life, it was not a miracle cure. He knew he had to ration the elixir as well as he had no idea how long it would take him to reach Gondor. The elixir helped alleviate the pain, but when it wore off, things seemed even worse. Kuros told him not to depend on it too heavily. It could make him feel better and cause him to do more than he should, thus aggravating his injuries. So, he had to be careful in using it. "I wouldn't mind soakin' in a barrel o' this stuff!" he sighed to himself as he packed the flask away.
He planned to retrace the route he and Frodo had taken to Mt. Doom. He didn't much like the thought of passing through Cirith Ungol again, but he hoped that maybe the city of Minas Morgul had been abandoned now that Sauron had fallen. He did worry about meeting up with the giant spider, Shelob, but he would have to cross that bridge when he came to it. He still had Sting and it had proven effective against her before. Hopefully, it would again, if it came down to it. He also had the Lady's phial and he knew how useful that could be.
Sam had decided to wait until nightfall before heading out. The scorching rays of the sun were brutal in these wastelands and moving by night would help him conserve his water. He slumped down onto the dusty floor and stared out through the opening. It was partially concealed by rocks outside, but he still felt exposed. His thoughts once again fell on his lost master. Where could Frodo be? Was he killed on Mt. Doom or had he been rescued by the eagles? Sam desperately wanted to believe the latter. Finding Frodo was the only thing that kept him going. If he did manage to make it to Minas Tirith and found that Frodo had been killed, then the least he could do was to make sure everyone knew what a hero his dear master had been. Carrying that ring for so long and for so far had nearly destroyed him. Tears came to Sam's eyes as he remembered the wild look in Frodo's eyes when the Ring had finally triumphed in the fiery darkness of Sammath Naur. It was the worst moment of Sam's life as he realized he had lost Frodo to the evil of the Ring's power at last. He gave a small laugh. Well, that Stinker had proved to be the savior in the end.
He thought about the lonely journey ahead. How he wished Frodo was with him! It was bad enough making the trip the first time, but at least he wasn't alone. Helping Frodo had given Sam the strength he had needed that time. He didn't have that same incentive now. However, he didn't much like the idea of dying out here alone in the bleak lands of Mordor. "If I'm going to die on this journey, I'd much rather do it in a nicer place, like Ithilien, maybe. If I die here, I'm just as likely to be eaten by some passing orc! No, thank you!" He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. Despite his fear and pain, he was finally able to sleep.
When he woke, several hours later, the sun was just disappearing over the horizon. "Alright, Samwise Gamgee" he said to himself, "Now's the time for it. Time for you to leave this awful place and go home!" He lifted his small, battered pack. It had made the journey all the way from the Shire with him. All he had left was his elven rope, his Lothlorien cloak and the Lady's gifts. He had dumped all his other gear into a crevasse on the final leg of their trip to Mt. Doom. "I surely do miss my cooking pots!" he thought sadly. "Not that I have anything to cook!" The pack also carried the supplies given to him by Kuros. Still it was not too heavy and although painful to put on, Sam was able to tolerate it. He peered out through the rocks again, but had to step back into the cavern as a deep, racking cough convulsed his thin body. Gasping for breath, he leaned against the wall to rest. He could taste blood. He waited as the sharp pain from his broken ribs gradually subsided into a throbbing ache. Breathing was difficult at best and again, the despairing hobbit wondered how he would ever manage.
After a few moments, Sam pushed himself from the wall and staggered to the cave opening again. He listened carefully and hearing nothing, stepped outside and limped up the slope to road above. The climb was a steep one, but by sheer determination, Sam made it to the top. He looked both ways and again listened carefully, but no sound was to be heard. Taking a deep breath and hitching up his pack, Sam turned west and started on his way.
The road was broad and empty and it made Sam's journey much easier. However, his progress was slow and he found he had to stop frequently to rest. "This will never do," he panted as he stopped for the fourth time in an hour. "I'll never get out of Mordor at this rate!" He was frustrated by his lack of strength and stamina. His head was throbbing and the bandage covering the wound he had sustained from being knocked down by Gollum was soaked with a cold sweat. He was frequently racked by bloody bouts of coughing which left him feeling spent. He reached into his pack and slowly removed the flask containing the elixir. He uncorked the top and took a deep draught of the spicy liquid. He closed his eyes and almost immediately felt new strength flow through his limbs. Maybe he shouldn't take it too often, but he would need it if he were to make any progress at all. He climbed to his feet and headed purposefully down the road.
His luck held for the next several days and he met no one on the empty road. He traveled by night and rested where he could during the day. There wasn't much shelter in this barren wilderness, but he could usually find some rocks that provided at least the illusion of cover. He took the elixir more than he knew he aught, but justified it in his mind saying that he just needed it until he escaped from Mordor. He wouldn't need it so much after that. He hoped.
On the seventh day after leaving the relative safety of the Muroks' labyrinth under Mt. Doom, Sam's luck finally gave out. It was late evening and Sam had at last reached the foothills of Ephel Duat'h. He shivered with apprehension as he looked towards the towers of Minas Morgul in the distance, shining silver in the moonlight. He remembered the last time he and Frodo had been in this terrible place and Frodo's rescue from the tower of Cirith Ungol. His poor master had been cruelly treated there and of course there was that hideous spider, Shelob. A small smile came to Sam's lips as he remembered the frightened orcs claiming that a powerful Elf-warrior had vanquished the monster. That so- called "warrior-Elf" had been none other than a small, frightened hobbit by the name of Samwise Gamgee. "Oh Mr. Frodo," he sighed to himself, "Thank goodness you're not here to have to see this awful place again!"
Sam was exhausted and decided not to go any further into the pass. He resolved to rest for the remainder of the night and attempt the pass in the morning. He hoped that by traveling through the dark, dank passageways under the mountains during the daytime, he might avoid seeing Shelob. If he did cross paths with the horrible creature, he still had the elven blade, Sting, as well as the Lady's light. That had deterred the spider before. He was really hoping that she was still deep in her lair, nursing her wound from their last encounter. He found a small alcove among some rocks, tucked his pack under his head and settled down to sleep.
"Well, well, well. What little rat 'ave we here?" Sam woke with a start as a deep, rasping voice sounded in his ear. Gasping for breath and clutching his sore ribs, he abruptly sat up and found himself face to face with the cruel, leering face of large orc! Sam couldn't say a word. He looked around, panic stricken, and realized he was surrounded by four more grinning monsters. He was trapped!