Chapter 8 The Enemy Within
Sam's recovery went well and within a couple of weeks, he was up and around. Although weak and prone to tiring easily, he was feeling more like his old self every day. Except for the headaches. They came and went unexpectedly and sometimes were so fierce, he thought his head would explode. He didn't want to worry anyone. He noticed, however, that they seemed most intense when he was alone with Frodo. This puzzled him greatly, but still he said nothing. He hoped they would simply go away eventually.
He was also concerned by the blank periods of time he was experiencing. On several occasions, he would find himself someplace with no recollection of how he got there. The most disturbing episode was when he awoke late one night to find himself hovering over a sleeping Frodo, a pillow clenched in his hands. He was then assaulted by a blinding headache so intense, he almost collapsed right then and there. He managed to stagger from the room before he was violently ill. Again, he feared to mention this to anyone. He couldn't chance being left behind when the Fellowship departed for Mordor and he knew headaches and blackouts would probably be considered adequate reasons to keep him in Rivendell.
The days passed quickly with preparations for the Fellowship's departure . Sam grew stronger every day and as the day of departure approached, he was immensely relieved when Elrond proclaimed him fit to travel with Frodo and the others. Sam was still suffering from the headaches, but the blackouts had become less frequent, which eased his mind somewhat. He still believed it was better not to mention any of this, although he did notice Frodo, Merry and Pippin sometimes looking at him strangely. Well, if they suspected something, they didn't mention it.
The day of departure finally arrived. Sam was both excited and apprehensive about the journey. He didn't think much of them heading into black lands and fiery mountains, but he was determined to remain at Frodo's side at all costs. He periodically stole curious glances at their new companions. Gandalf and Aragorn he was well acquainted with. Frodo told him that the elf, Legolas, had been with Aragorn when he found Sam on the ridge. Sam was somewhat intimidated by him, although the elf was always pleasant to him. He wasn't too sure about the other man, Boromir. He was of noble blood, Sam knew, but he seemed uncommonly interested in the Ring. This did not sit well with the suspicious hobbit, who feared for his master's safety. The other newcomer, Gimli the dwarf, was a boisterous, loud spoken fellow, and as he was closer the hobbit's size, Sam felt somewhat more comfortable around him.
The Company headed south, hoping to pass through the Redhorn Gate and into the Dimrill Dale and thus cross the Misty Mountains. As the journey progressed, Sam found his headaches were becoming less frequent, although he sometimes felt a strange lassitude come over him and his movements seemed automatic, almost as if they were barely under his control. It was as they began the steep climb up Caradhras that the weather changed for the worse. Fierce biting winds and heavy snow descended upon them, making it almost impossible to see and progress slow. The hobbits trailed behind the larger folk, allowing them to break a passage for them through the drifts. Sam had never felt such bone-chilling cold in his entire life. Frost covered his face and he found himself becoming drowsy and gradually less aware of his surroundings. Each step seemed more difficult than the last. Frodo was beside him, looking just as cold and miserable. Pippin and Merry were a little ways ahead, mindlessly plodding forward. It was doubtful whether any of the hobbits could continue much longer under these grueling conditions.
Suddenly, Sam thought he heard someone yell stop. Freezing in place, he looked up startled, but was even more puzzled by the fact that no one else seemed to have heard the command. Sam gradually became aware of a low, rumbling sound that could just be heard over the shrieking wind. Looking up in alarm, he saw to his horror, the entire side of the mountain ahead of them seemed to be coming down! Rocks and a rushing wall of snow came roaring down the hill, burying everything it its path. Sam cried out as he saw Merry and Pippin throw themselves against the wall of the mountain and disappear beneath the onslaught. Sam grabbed Frodo's arm and hauled him out of the snow's lethal path. They lay huddled by Bill the pony as they waited for the avalanche to end.
But, it was as he pulled on his master's arm that something strange happened. Sam felt that familiar, but terrifying sensation as he head exploded in blinding pain. This time, he felt a moment of intense despair, then everything went black
"Sam!" cried Frodo frantically as he regained his feet. He was covered with snow and he felt colder than ever, although not entirely because of the weather. He was staring at the place where he had last seen his cousins. "Hurry Sam! We must dig them out!" Frodo started to surge ahead through the monstrous drift before him when he felt an iron grip on his arm Whirling about in confusion, Frodo found himself staring into the face of a stranger. Frodo blinked, trying to clear his vision in the swirling snow.. It was Sam's face alright, but those cold, black glittering eyes were those of a stranger. Frodo felt a thrill of fear race up his spine. "Sam?" he whispered fearfully.
The eyes just stared at him, unblinking. Suddenly, Sam burst into action grabbing Frodo about the neck, attempting to strangle him. Frodo was caught completely by surprise. He reached up trying to break Sam's hold. The only thing saving him were his many layers of clothing. Sam was finding it hard to get a good grip on Frodo's throat. Frodo slipped in the deep snow and Sam lost his tenuous hold. Desperately Frodo attempted to crawl away, but in a moment, Sam had thrown himself on top of him. Sam caught hold of the back of Frodo's cloak and pulled it tight across Frodo's throat, once again cutting off his air. Frantically, Frodo fumbled with the clasp, his frozen fingers refusing to cooperate. As darkness began to gather at the edges of his vision, Frodo finally pulled the clasp free and his cloak came loose. Unbalanced, Sam flew backwards, disappearing into a drift behind them. Gasping for breath, Frodo managed to regain his feet and staggered a few steps.
With a roar of frustration, Sam struggled to his feet and again threw himself at his master. Frodo wheeled around, panting, attempting to ward off this new attack, but he was second too late. Sam, using his superior weight and momentum, flung Frodo to the ground, pinning him. Seizing a nearby rock, he raised it above his head, ready to bring it down. "Sam!" cried Frodo desperately, "Sam! No! Please! It's me, Frodo!" For just a moment, there was a change in Sam's eyes. The ominous glitter disappeared, and they were Sam's once more. Looking down at his friend, Sam's face contorted into a mask of grief and horror, but just for a moment. The Ring was lying visible on Frodo's heaving chest and as Sam spied it, a tremor passed through his body, and the glittering eyes returned. Without a sound, he brought the rock down firmly on Frodo's head. Frodo cried out in pain, then was silent. Sam raised the rock a second time, but hesitated, looked at Frodo, then slowly opened his shaking hand, allowing the rock to tumble silently into the snow beside him.
Sam was breathing hard and closed his eyes, frowning. Another tremor ran through his body. A moment later, his eyes snapped open, dark and glittering once more, all expression gone from his face. He stared at Frodo's bloodied face and then down at the Ring on its shimmering silver chain. After a moment's hesitation, he reached over and slipped the chain over Frodo's head then draped it over his own, the Ring icy cold against his chest.
Sam stood up, seemingly oblivious to wailing wind and snow. He reached down and grabbed Frodo by the arm and began pulling towards the edge of the cliff, blood staining the snow as they went. Again, Sam hesitated for the briefest of moments, then grunting with the effort, pushed Frodo over. Impassively, he watched as Frodo disappear in a cloud of snow.
"NOOOO!" An anguished scream cut through the wind, but Sam was deaf to its pain. Merry had just broken a small opening through the mountain of snow and watched in horrified disbelief as Samwise Gamgee pushed Frodo into the void. "SAM!" He cried again. Slowly, Sam turned and gazed at the Merry's despairing face. Merry felt his blood run cold as he stared at those icy, glittering eyes, so unlike Sam's warm ones. Then, still looking into Merry's eyes, Sam gave a small smirk, placed the Ring on his finger and disappeared from sight. Only his tracks, leading back down the mountain trail, gave any indication of his passing.
Desperately, Merry continued to dig through the snow and rock, trying to create an opening through which he and Pippin could escape. Fortunately, the slight overhang of the mountain had diverted the worst of the avalanche away from them. When it was over, they had found themselves entombed in snow and rock, but unharmed. Merry could not believe what he had just seen and all he could think about was reaching Frodo and hope he wasn't too late.
"What's happened!?" cried Pippin anxiously as he too dug at the packed snow. Merry was wide eyed with panic and clawing at the snow as if his very life depended on it.. Merry stopped for a moment, resting his head against the snow before him, gasping for breath.. Tears were running down his face and Pippin stared at him in alarm. "What's happened?" Pippin repeated even more anxiously, speaking barely above a whisper. Merry turned to him, his face bleak., the tears beginning to freeze. He wasn't sure he could get the words out.
"Sam's killed Frodo!"
Sam's recovery went well and within a couple of weeks, he was up and around. Although weak and prone to tiring easily, he was feeling more like his old self every day. Except for the headaches. They came and went unexpectedly and sometimes were so fierce, he thought his head would explode. He didn't want to worry anyone. He noticed, however, that they seemed most intense when he was alone with Frodo. This puzzled him greatly, but still he said nothing. He hoped they would simply go away eventually.
He was also concerned by the blank periods of time he was experiencing. On several occasions, he would find himself someplace with no recollection of how he got there. The most disturbing episode was when he awoke late one night to find himself hovering over a sleeping Frodo, a pillow clenched in his hands. He was then assaulted by a blinding headache so intense, he almost collapsed right then and there. He managed to stagger from the room before he was violently ill. Again, he feared to mention this to anyone. He couldn't chance being left behind when the Fellowship departed for Mordor and he knew headaches and blackouts would probably be considered adequate reasons to keep him in Rivendell.
The days passed quickly with preparations for the Fellowship's departure . Sam grew stronger every day and as the day of departure approached, he was immensely relieved when Elrond proclaimed him fit to travel with Frodo and the others. Sam was still suffering from the headaches, but the blackouts had become less frequent, which eased his mind somewhat. He still believed it was better not to mention any of this, although he did notice Frodo, Merry and Pippin sometimes looking at him strangely. Well, if they suspected something, they didn't mention it.
The day of departure finally arrived. Sam was both excited and apprehensive about the journey. He didn't think much of them heading into black lands and fiery mountains, but he was determined to remain at Frodo's side at all costs. He periodically stole curious glances at their new companions. Gandalf and Aragorn he was well acquainted with. Frodo told him that the elf, Legolas, had been with Aragorn when he found Sam on the ridge. Sam was somewhat intimidated by him, although the elf was always pleasant to him. He wasn't too sure about the other man, Boromir. He was of noble blood, Sam knew, but he seemed uncommonly interested in the Ring. This did not sit well with the suspicious hobbit, who feared for his master's safety. The other newcomer, Gimli the dwarf, was a boisterous, loud spoken fellow, and as he was closer the hobbit's size, Sam felt somewhat more comfortable around him.
The Company headed south, hoping to pass through the Redhorn Gate and into the Dimrill Dale and thus cross the Misty Mountains. As the journey progressed, Sam found his headaches were becoming less frequent, although he sometimes felt a strange lassitude come over him and his movements seemed automatic, almost as if they were barely under his control. It was as they began the steep climb up Caradhras that the weather changed for the worse. Fierce biting winds and heavy snow descended upon them, making it almost impossible to see and progress slow. The hobbits trailed behind the larger folk, allowing them to break a passage for them through the drifts. Sam had never felt such bone-chilling cold in his entire life. Frost covered his face and he found himself becoming drowsy and gradually less aware of his surroundings. Each step seemed more difficult than the last. Frodo was beside him, looking just as cold and miserable. Pippin and Merry were a little ways ahead, mindlessly plodding forward. It was doubtful whether any of the hobbits could continue much longer under these grueling conditions.
Suddenly, Sam thought he heard someone yell stop. Freezing in place, he looked up startled, but was even more puzzled by the fact that no one else seemed to have heard the command. Sam gradually became aware of a low, rumbling sound that could just be heard over the shrieking wind. Looking up in alarm, he saw to his horror, the entire side of the mountain ahead of them seemed to be coming down! Rocks and a rushing wall of snow came roaring down the hill, burying everything it its path. Sam cried out as he saw Merry and Pippin throw themselves against the wall of the mountain and disappear beneath the onslaught. Sam grabbed Frodo's arm and hauled him out of the snow's lethal path. They lay huddled by Bill the pony as they waited for the avalanche to end.
But, it was as he pulled on his master's arm that something strange happened. Sam felt that familiar, but terrifying sensation as he head exploded in blinding pain. This time, he felt a moment of intense despair, then everything went black
"Sam!" cried Frodo frantically as he regained his feet. He was covered with snow and he felt colder than ever, although not entirely because of the weather. He was staring at the place where he had last seen his cousins. "Hurry Sam! We must dig them out!" Frodo started to surge ahead through the monstrous drift before him when he felt an iron grip on his arm Whirling about in confusion, Frodo found himself staring into the face of a stranger. Frodo blinked, trying to clear his vision in the swirling snow.. It was Sam's face alright, but those cold, black glittering eyes were those of a stranger. Frodo felt a thrill of fear race up his spine. "Sam?" he whispered fearfully.
The eyes just stared at him, unblinking. Suddenly, Sam burst into action grabbing Frodo about the neck, attempting to strangle him. Frodo was caught completely by surprise. He reached up trying to break Sam's hold. The only thing saving him were his many layers of clothing. Sam was finding it hard to get a good grip on Frodo's throat. Frodo slipped in the deep snow and Sam lost his tenuous hold. Desperately Frodo attempted to crawl away, but in a moment, Sam had thrown himself on top of him. Sam caught hold of the back of Frodo's cloak and pulled it tight across Frodo's throat, once again cutting off his air. Frantically, Frodo fumbled with the clasp, his frozen fingers refusing to cooperate. As darkness began to gather at the edges of his vision, Frodo finally pulled the clasp free and his cloak came loose. Unbalanced, Sam flew backwards, disappearing into a drift behind them. Gasping for breath, Frodo managed to regain his feet and staggered a few steps.
With a roar of frustration, Sam struggled to his feet and again threw himself at his master. Frodo wheeled around, panting, attempting to ward off this new attack, but he was second too late. Sam, using his superior weight and momentum, flung Frodo to the ground, pinning him. Seizing a nearby rock, he raised it above his head, ready to bring it down. "Sam!" cried Frodo desperately, "Sam! No! Please! It's me, Frodo!" For just a moment, there was a change in Sam's eyes. The ominous glitter disappeared, and they were Sam's once more. Looking down at his friend, Sam's face contorted into a mask of grief and horror, but just for a moment. The Ring was lying visible on Frodo's heaving chest and as Sam spied it, a tremor passed through his body, and the glittering eyes returned. Without a sound, he brought the rock down firmly on Frodo's head. Frodo cried out in pain, then was silent. Sam raised the rock a second time, but hesitated, looked at Frodo, then slowly opened his shaking hand, allowing the rock to tumble silently into the snow beside him.
Sam was breathing hard and closed his eyes, frowning. Another tremor ran through his body. A moment later, his eyes snapped open, dark and glittering once more, all expression gone from his face. He stared at Frodo's bloodied face and then down at the Ring on its shimmering silver chain. After a moment's hesitation, he reached over and slipped the chain over Frodo's head then draped it over his own, the Ring icy cold against his chest.
Sam stood up, seemingly oblivious to wailing wind and snow. He reached down and grabbed Frodo by the arm and began pulling towards the edge of the cliff, blood staining the snow as they went. Again, Sam hesitated for the briefest of moments, then grunting with the effort, pushed Frodo over. Impassively, he watched as Frodo disappear in a cloud of snow.
"NOOOO!" An anguished scream cut through the wind, but Sam was deaf to its pain. Merry had just broken a small opening through the mountain of snow and watched in horrified disbelief as Samwise Gamgee pushed Frodo into the void. "SAM!" He cried again. Slowly, Sam turned and gazed at the Merry's despairing face. Merry felt his blood run cold as he stared at those icy, glittering eyes, so unlike Sam's warm ones. Then, still looking into Merry's eyes, Sam gave a small smirk, placed the Ring on his finger and disappeared from sight. Only his tracks, leading back down the mountain trail, gave any indication of his passing.
Desperately, Merry continued to dig through the snow and rock, trying to create an opening through which he and Pippin could escape. Fortunately, the slight overhang of the mountain had diverted the worst of the avalanche away from them. When it was over, they had found themselves entombed in snow and rock, but unharmed. Merry could not believe what he had just seen and all he could think about was reaching Frodo and hope he wasn't too late.
"What's happened!?" cried Pippin anxiously as he too dug at the packed snow. Merry was wide eyed with panic and clawing at the snow as if his very life depended on it.. Merry stopped for a moment, resting his head against the snow before him, gasping for breath.. Tears were running down his face and Pippin stared at him in alarm. "What's happened?" Pippin repeated even more anxiously, speaking barely above a whisper. Merry turned to him, his face bleak., the tears beginning to freeze. He wasn't sure he could get the words out.
"Sam's killed Frodo!"