Shirebound: thank you for the kind review, and I hope that following chapters will be as satisfying, b/c I'm going to add a bit besides the movie
Frodo's strength waned as they struggled across the bleak wasteland that was Mordor. His steps had long ago ceased to carry the easy swiftness of a contented hobbit, now he stumbled over rocks and dirt, his lips moving silently in the fog that had overwhelmed him. What pale light had shone at dawn, it had been lost under the long, rolling darkness that spread like poisonous fumes over the three figures far below. Far ahead, creeping through the shadows, their guide moved rapidly over the ground in nervous haste, eyes darting every so often to the clouds as a cry pierced the silence.
Sam followed as best he could, his eyes ever watchful for some sign of treachery. He held his tongue for his master's sake, but in his heart he could fell nothing but hatred for the loathsome creature that had entrusted. He had heard the deceit in Gollum's voice when first they met, a promise kept only until it had served his purposes. He had heard the change, the hissing, the agitated conflicts between the two: Slinker and Stinker, he called them. And now, he turned to look at his master-it had become a matter of surviving day by day.
It no longer mattered to Frodo that he had fallen behind. His hand pushed feebly at the shadows, his hollowed eyes turning from sights the others could not see, one hand clutching the Ring about his neck. The weight, the endless, tiresome weight, dragged him down and caused him to stumble, rising each time more exhausted, more strained. He walked blindly, his eyes no longer seeing the shapes that rose up before him, only to fade away into the darkness...the ever lengthening darkness...
A stone, hidden from his haunted gaze, fells him. He stumbled, and then let his weary body fall to the earth, his thoughts drifting away from all but his burden. His hand clenches as a scream rents the air, terror striking his heart with the dread he knows so well. For a moment, Frodo awoke from his waking slumber, turning to the glitter of gold. Another cry is carried on the air, and he stared up at the skies, jealously, suspiciously searching for the fell creatures that made it. With anxious movements, he thrust the Ring beneath his shirt, just as Sam reached his side.
"We can't go on, Mr. Frodo- not with you in this state. Wait 'ere a moment, and I'll go get that Gollum."
Frodo pushed himself up, taking in the small ledge upon which he lay, a small pool just beyond what little growth had managed to live here. It seemed far longer to him that Sam took in returning, and his hand moved automatically to cover the place where the Ring lay hidden. A last cry, louder than the others, reached his ears, and he fell back against the rocks, fiery lances of pain stemming from an old wound.
"Mr. Frodo?" Sam appeared at his side, taking the limp hands in his. "You're safe, Mr. Frodo-they're heading back now-away from 'ere." Frodo opened his eyes, and saw Sam's gentle concern etched on his lined face.
"They're calling it, Sam. They're calling it back to them...to Him..." he whispered. "They know it's here."
"I know, Mr. Frodo, I know. I can 'ere them too." Sam sighed. "You should try to get some rest before we start again."
"Master should listen to the fat hobbit. Master should keep up his strength, very nasty business ahead, we knows. Very long way into Mordor...very secret...yes, yes." Gollum had arrived, his long fingers pawing a Frodo's arm. "Sleep now, very nice, be very nice for Master."
Sam backed away, his eyes shadowed in dislike and suspicion as Frodo turned to look at him.
"We must keep going, Sam." His hand clenched, and Sam turned his eyes away from the sight, the evil he saw destroying his master.
"Just sleep for a bit, Mister Frodo, and I'll catch a bit too. I reckon even Gollum would take some, if he could get it." Sam looked into the pale blue eyes of the fawning creature.
"Yes, yes. Even Smeagol needs his rest. Very safe here in the dark, can't be seen by nasty Wraiths." Gollum backed away under the Sam's wrathful gaze, slightly away from the hobbits. "Good Smeagol, waiting for Master."
Sam moved forward menacingly. "I'll sleep right 'ere, Mister Frodo, if you don't mind me saying so." He murmured, carefully lying down nearby. "I'd be happier if we'd never seen this 'orrid place."
"So would I, Sam." Frodo closed his eyes wearily and dropped his head. "So would I."