Disclaimer: The few quotes from The Fellowship of the Ring are from the movie and obviously do not belong to me. I am just barrowing them.

Author's Note: I am still alive, yes. I am very sorry for taking such a long time to update. School has been – and still is – crazy, and I have had a very challenging time writing this from Frodo's point of view. This story is the movie version of "The Black Gate is Closed." There is, however, in this part a tribute or two based on one of my favorite parts of the chapter in the book. I hope you all enjoy this.

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Part Two: A Grave Matter

I clutch to the rock above me. I dig my battered nails into the stone and pull myself up. Sam disappears over the top of the rock, and I realize we have reached the summit of this huge rock face.

"The Black Gate of Mordor," Smeagol's hiss faintly reaches my ears.

With what little strength I have left I drag myself over the top. I want just to drop to the ground and lie here for a long while, but then I would not be able to make myself get up again. I slowly crawl to Sam, who looks upon the gate from over a boulder.

"Oh, save us! My old Gaffer would have a thing or two to say if he could see us now."

I do not respond to Sam's musings as I reach him. Instead I concentrate on my first clear and up-close look of Mordor. My heart sinks as my eyes absorb the great gate that I must go through to continue on my way to Creaks of Doom. Doom. Just as the thought passes through my mind, I feel the chain around my neck weigh more heavily as the Ring seems to shiver in apprehension. In dread of what is to become of it, or because it knows it is drawing closer to its Master, I do not know. I suddenly want to turn myself away from the sight before me. My heart freezes with fear of this place, but also with dread, for my Quest will soon be ending and I shall take this burden and cast it into the fire. I dig my nails hard into the rock, fighting against the great weight that threatens to win over me. I force myself to look upon this wasteland which is filled with ash and fire. Here I must go. There is no turning back. I stare intently at the orc guards which pace along the battlements. None can enter or leave without those creatures seeing them.

Smeagol's hesitant voice comes from my right. "Master says to show him the way into Mordor, so good Smeagol does, master says so."   

"I did," I answer, not taking my gaze off the path that is before me. I am truly grateful to the creature, for I do not know when or how Sam and I would have gotten this far if Smeagol had not shown us the way.

"That's it then," Sam says resignedly. "We cannot get past them," he says, nodding at the guards that keep watch. The despair in his voice matches that which is in my heart.

I have no answer, for Sam is right. As soon as we distance ourselves from this cliff, we will be spotted. How can we get in? I wonder hopelessly.

I freeze as a loud shout fills the air. Have we already been spotted? I fearfully muse. But no, we are safe still, I realize, as a large Easterling army marches into my view. I crouch lower behind the rock as the army gives a great shout in response.

I breathe quickly. Everything is making it hard for me to think. I must get into Mordor, but how I do not know. Oh! How I long greatly right now for the wisdom of Gandalf or Aragorn's advice. This whole thing is too big for me. I cannot accomplish it. How it is I have even come this far is a miracle to me.

A horn is blown from that black land. Its blast lasts long and loud, reaching seemingly to all corners of the earth. I feel it pressing in on my head. A headache I have had for the last few days worsens greatly.

But over the pounding of my head and the loud horn, I hear frightened gasps and whimpers. I turn and see Smeagol. He has his hands covering his ears, and he shakes his head back and forth. Crying and rocking slightly. My eyes are drawn to his back. Long, ugly scars make crisscross patterns on the thin flesh. Whips. They are the only clue to what the creature suffered when he was last here. I frown in concern.

"Look, the gate!"

I turn my gaze from our guide and glance questioningly at Sam.

"It's opening," he exclaims.

My eyes widen as the massive piece of iron slowly opens, permitting the Easterlings to enter. I then notice Sam venturing on a jagged piece of rock sticking out of the cliff.

"I can see a way down," he exclaims to me before pushing himself forward to get a better look.

My ears pick up on the tiny warning creak. I freeze, understanding too late. "Sam!" I shout, trying to warn him. Sam starts to turn to me. First confusion, then horror settle on his face. His mouth forms a large "O" as the rock gives way.

"No!" I scream as Sam disappears from my sight, his own yell still ringing in my ears.

Sam! Sam… Sam… I silently scream my mouth now dry. I hear no answer.

I am frozen for a heartbeat. No! Not Sam…! I have already lost too many, left too many behind. First it was Bilbo I said goodbye to. But it was Gandalf who suddenly and unexpectedly was lost to me. No words of farewell were there time for; he only told us to run. Then…he fell. He gave us a chance. Fell. Boramir was also lost, for he fell under the influence of the Ring – mine, which I agreed to bear, and I will not let another take it upon themselves. Aragorn told me to run. I ran, leaving him to face the orcs which Sting warned of. He gave me a chance. Even among my fear of the foul creatures roaming the woods and hill, my heart cried when Pippin and Merry urged me to hide with them. I looked at them with sadness and shook my head numbly. I doubt I shall ever forget the look on Pippin's face as he understood what was happening. He wanted to stop me, but I could not stay. Then orcs were aware of us. The three of us stared at each other for a moment before Merry told me to go. That was our good-bye. The last I saw of them they were running away from me, leading the creatures away from me. They gave me a chance. I did not see Legolas or Gimli, but I am certain they were fighting for their lives. I sometimes wonder if Sam and I are all that is left of the Fellowship. Sam fell. Or am I now alone? No! I cannot lose him. He is now all I have.

I do not give thought to the guards on the battlements of the Black Gate or of the Easterling army that might possibly spot me. Nor do I give a glance to Smeagol. Instead, I spring forward and go over the edge of the cliff without fear of my own safety. I slide down, rolling with the loose rocks and dirt. I slow as I near the bottom and take shelter behind a rock. My senses, which I had previously discarded, return to me.  I look about and gasp. Two soldiers are coming towards the base of the cliff. Their eyes peer carefully about. I keep a wary eye on them and continue the rest of the way down. I spot Sam, who is stuck fast in sand and stone. He struggles vainly to free himself. I rush to his side. He's alive! I feel like laughing, singing, dancing, hugging him. But I only rejoice in my heart   -- and not long at that -- for the soldiers are drawing nearer, and we shall be spotted soon. I grab him underneath his arms and try to pull him up. But he hardly gives. I cease trying to tug him and release his arms. I glance up and see the Easterlings steadily approaching. Just a few more yards and they will see us. I heart freezes in my chest. There is no way that Sam and I can avoid being seen. I could try to take cover, but I immediately turn from that choice, that road. I will not abandon Sam.

"Never before have we clad strangers in the garb of our own people. May these cloaks shield you from unfriendly eyes."

The Lord Celeborn's words ring clearly as though it was yesterday he had bestowed these gifts. My heart lightens a bit. I do not have time to think – only to try and hurry. I quickly pull the hood of my cloak low over my head, hiding my face. I cannot take off my pack, for precious moments will be lost. I throw myself onto the ground next to Sam. I try to curl into a ball so that I am completely under the cloak. I then pull part of my cloak over Sam. There is not much, for my pack keeps from my pulling the cloak more. The pack! It shall surely give us away.

"May these cloaks shield you from unfriendly eyes…" the comforting words wash over me again. I sigh; I can only have faith. The silence roars in my ears as I hold my breath, waiting. The silence explodes as my sharp ears hear the ever closer footsteps of the soldiers. My heart jumps at the sound of each crunch, each louder than the last as they draw closer and closer… The sun is blocked out as the Easterlings stop right before us. I feel Sam tremble slightly; I tense, trying not to move or make a sound, and wait with growing tension and apprehension.

The soldiers shift their weight, causing the gravel to crack. After that all is still. I manage to catch a gasp in my throat before it escapes my lungs. The Ring seems to shiver.

Its voice whispers tidings of despair in my mind. "You will be found," It whispers. "You cannot hide on the threshold of my Master's land and escape unnoticed," It purrs. "Put me on," It breathes. Put me on and the soldiers shall not find you. When they look down upon you, all they shall see is the other. You can escape."

I waver; the promise sounds so sure. My fingers tingle, and I watch in fascination as my hands ever so slowly climb their way up towards my neck.  

"Yes," It reassures. "I will save you."

My fingers touch the base of my neck when they suddenly pause. I blink. It seems like light brushes faintly against my mind. I try to catch this thought, this feeling of something searching for me, to draw me in. What is it? Come back, I beg.

"Never put It on, or the servants of the dark Lord will be drawn to It. Never forget, the Ring is trying to get back to Its Master. It wants to be found, Frodo."

 My mind clears as those words from Gandalf long ago echo in my head. Gandalf! I want to answer that mysterious light.

I almost jump, for suddenly I hear footsteps again. But they are fading. Are the soldiers…leaving? I stare down at my hand and lower it. I sigh. Gandalf's memory has saved me once again and brought me back to reason. I stay still for a moment more, making certain that they are leaving. When I am certain that now there are only Sam and I, I rise, throwing my hood off. I quickly look around and see that the Easterlings have nearly all entered through the gate.

I now turn my attention to Sam. With renewed strength and determination I pull while he pushes. Suddenly he jerks up, and he manages to bring up one of his legs out of the sand and rocks. I let him go and move to a boulder and watch the army. Soon the gate will close. I must seize my chance now. I partly climb onto the boulder, ready to spring forward and make a run for it when the time is right. I do not forget the orcs on top of the gate, but this is a risk I am willing to take. I now have more hope than when I first laid my eyes on this place.

I move over and make room for Sam as he joins me. He also positions himself.

"I do not ask you to come with me, Sam," I tell him. I half wish he would not come, for I do not know what things he shall face because of me. And yet I also wish for him to come. For he has stayed by me, refusing to lose me, because of a promise he made to Gandalf which he does not intend to break.

"I know, Mister Frodo," he says as soon as the words leave my mouth. He looks at me. In his eyes are words that say that nothing I say will cause him to go back. I smile at him with just the lifting of the corners of my mouth, a bit sad, amused, and grateful. "I doubt even these elvish cloaks will hide us in there."

I silently agree that he could be right. But there is no other way.

"Now!" I shout and start to jump over the boulder. Something grabs me by the shoulder and pulls me back. I crash to the ground, completely off guard. I jerk and see it is Smeagol who has stopped me – and Sam, who sits on the ground in a heap. I had forgotten him when I hurled myself down the cliff after Sam. How he got down here without the Easterlings noticing I do not know. His eyes are wide, and his body trembles with excited fear.

"No, no! No, master!" he cries looking at me and then at Sam before returning his gaze to me. "They catch you! They catch you!"

I am aware of what he says, but my attention is directed to the gate. He barely finishes before I try to run again. But Smeagol is just as quick; he pulls me back again.

"Don't take it to Him," Smeagol begs, clasping his hands together.

I stare at him intently, trying to understand. I cannot linger here. I must hurry. But I wait gravely and anxiously for Smeagol to explain himself.

"He wants the precioussssssss." A pure fearful look settles on Smeagol's face. His mouth twists into a weird form that reminds me of a smile. His eyes seem to glaze over. "Always He's looking for it," he says, crawling past me to look upon the gate, "and the precioussssssssss is wanting to return to Him, but we must not let him have it." The last comes out in a low hissing tone.

I understand him, but this is my road. I have no other choice. I try to rush by him, but Smeagol grabs hold of my sleeve, while avoiding coming into contact with my cloak.

"No! There's another way."

I snap my head to look at him. He meets my slightly wary gaze without hesitation. He clenches my sleeve more tightly.

"More secret. A dark way," he says while nervously, repeatedly, loosening and then tightening his grip on me.

I wonder at this revelation, at how genuine this new information is. I do not have time to ponder things spoken in riddles.

I am pulled slightly as Smeagol is pulled to face Sam. "Why have you not spoken of this before?" he growls furiously, his eyes blazing.

"Because master did not ask!" he whines.

He faces Sam but reaches for my sleeve again. Sam pushes him away.

"He's up to something," he says, voicing his opinion of the matter before us. Nor does he hide from his features his disgust toward our guide. I fix Sam with a look that serves as a warning. Now is not the time or place for another standoff.

"Are you saying there's another way into Mordor?" I ask a little harshly, turning to Smeagol, who returns to my side. He cowers slightly in uncertainty. He nods his head.

"Yessss," he says in a shaky voice. "There's a path, and some stairs –"

I listen carefully to Smeagol's every word while looking back toward the gate. The black iron groans and slowly starts to shut after the last of the Easterlings enters. I am tempted to spring forward in a final attempt, but I stay still and intently ponder our guide's words; in riddles still does he speak.

"— and then…a…tunnel."

I look down at the creature, wondering at his slowness in telling the rest – the tunnel. Smeagol puts his head down on my sleeve, shaking his head slightly, and a tremor seems to pass through his thin frame. I frown; something troubles him -- I feel it.

A thick silence surrounds the three of us as Smeagol and Sam wait expectantly for my choice. I turn my gaze back to the closing gate. Now it would be impossible for Sam and me to pass through the gate. Thoughts whirl about my mind. What is the name of the place that Smeagol says will lead us into Mordor? I doubt I shall get much more about it out of him. If only I knew. Perhaps it is a place I have discussed with either Gandalf or Aragorn. Then I perhaps would have an easier time reaching a decision. How I long to just sit by myself and think carefully about this. But the time grows short. I frown, searching the deepest parts of my mind. A light seems to shine at me before swiftly passing. I come out of my thoughts.

I glance at the creature upon hearing a small noise come from him. Compassion, pity, hope, and trust are decided. It has only been a few seconds but seems like hours to me. As I gaze at the fearful creature, a picture of Gandalf comes unbidden to my mind's eye and then disappears. I then turn my attention to Sam, who is glaring at Smeagol's unrelenting hold on the sleeve of my jacket. He meets my gaze.

"He has led us this far, Sam," I say in answer to his silent wondering.

His face darkens, and his eyes narrow. He shakes his head in objection. "Mister Frodo, no!" he says in an angry whisper. He refuses to look at our companion.

I inwardly sigh. Sam would be more open to the idea if it were not Smeagol who suggested it. But what would he have me do if I said no to our guide? Where would we go? I look down at our companion. Right now we must trust him. For without him what would become of us?

"He's been true to his word," I try to make Sam understand, while speaking in praise, too, of Smeagol.

The creature in question at last raises his head from my arm and looks me in the eye. I return his gaze; and when an uncertain smile slowly touches his face, a smile comes to the corners of my mouth.

"No," Sam breathes, with a shake of his head.

I look at him. He refuses to understand. I know he only is worried about my well-being, but could he lead me to Mordor when the way is closed to me? I turn away from him, leaving our friendship behind this time.

"Lead the way, Smeagol," I say firmly, nodding to the former hobbit.

I see a change come over him. It seems as if a weight has lifted, for the fear and unease disappear from his eyes, and he smiles. He nods contentedly.

"Good Smeagol, always helps."

I glance at Sam's crestfallen face before getting up and following Smeagol, who waits for me so as to scamper by my side. I do not turn back, even as I hear a boom as the black gate is closed, not letting anyone out or in.

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