A/N: Gollum's lines are straight from the RotK trailer; everything else is the product of my overactive imagination.
_Climbing_
Stretching, reaching, his raw fingers scrabbled for a hold in the rough rock face. Finding a niche, he awkwardly pulled himself upward, every muscle and joint aching in protest of the unaccustomed strain. His shoulder especially cried out from the abuse; he winced and tried not to let go as it twinged painfully.
But all his physical strains combined could not compare to the Weight... and the dark windows leering at him, their empty yet seeing gaze pinning him to the rock. That was what he struggled against, above all else. The darkness of the valley and the luminous city behind him drew him, repelled him, made him want to cower in a corner like a frightened animal. And It dragged against him, until he felt he would be plucked from the rock and thrown down into that cold river to drown forevermore.
He faltered, his mind reeling and his breath labored as he fought the compelling call of the city of the Ringwraiths. "Come, master!" Smeagol urged from above him, his too-large eyes catching and reflecting the unearthly green-white glow of the Morgul vale.
He forced himself to reach upwards again, suddenly very aware of the Ring as it dangled, bumping against stone as he climbed. He could feel Smeagol's gaze upon him as he heard the creature murmur, "Come to Smeagol..."
A sudden desire swept through him to cover It, protect It, put It out of sight seized him, and only with much effort did he keep his hand from straying to conceal the treacherous trinket. Instead he dragged himself up a bit further, and wondered if following the pitiful creature would have any better result than surrendering to the darkness and heeding the call of the deathlike city. 'Twould be better to end it here and now, than struggle on beyond all hope, he thought with weary despair. At least then he could finally rest...
"Mr. Frodo?" asked Sam's anxious voice as a hand lightly touched his heel. "Are you all right?"
"Just tired," and he inched his way up once more. He glanced ahead at Smeagol, sitting on a ledge just beyond his reach, watching him with that queer gleam in his eye. So Gollum felt the draw, too, and wasn't hiding it as well as he. He wants It, Frodo recognized. And he is surely planning a way to get It.
The ledge was just beyond his reach, if he stretched just a bit more, shifted his weight a little, he could touch his fingertips to the edge... Too far. His foot slipped, pelting Sam with small stones, and all the world seemed to pause as he lost his balance, his body crashing into the craggy rock before starting to slip downward. He was allowed one moment to panic, fingers cramping as he clung to his one meager hold, but it wasn't enough. Then he felt Smeagol grab him, hauling him up and onto the ledge by the seat of his breeches.
He lay panting on the ledge as Sam caught up, and allowed himself a moment to be thankful that Gollum had not decided to simply rescue the Ring and allow he and Sam to fall to their deaths. They still had a chance... a chance to achieve their goal without hindrance from Gollum.
He sat up, meeting Sam's questioning gaze with a nodded 'I'm fine.' Then he closed his eyes, steeling himself for the next stretch, and consciously not looking back at that dread valley. Only darkness and despair dwelt there. But as long as he could, he should go on, he *must* go on. Everything depended on it.