G and shirevbound: Thank you for your wonderful support, and I hope you enjoy the third installment as much as the first two.

This one was quite a bit harder to write, because of Gollum and Sméagol's conversation, so there is not as much description. I hope it is satisfactory.

The two hobbits had long since ceased to move, forms as still as the rock upon which they lay. Pale moonlight filtered through the ominous clouds, a piercing ray of hope in the deep of night. Not far from the hobbits, a third figure lay, hissing softly as it thrashed in a restless sleep.

""Too risky...Too risky...Thieves! They stole It from us...kill them...kill them...kill them both!" With a cry, Gollum jerked upright, his pale eyes flashing in the darkness. His eyes darted nervously to the hobbits as Sam twisted uneasily in his sleep. Another being seemed to take over him, and it rebuked the other persona.

"Shh! Quiet! Musn't wake them!" and then, quietly, "Musn't ruin it now!"

Gollum crawled stealthily from his perch on the rocks, to a pool of water just beyond where the hobbits slept. A change came over him as both reflection and watcher met each other's eyes, and it was then that the two sides became clear. The meeker of the two sat nervously beside the water, speaking softly to the reflection, the darker, scheming side of himself.

The weak side spoke nervously to the reflection. "But they knows! They knows! They suspects us!"

The reflection was almost condescending as it replied. "What's it saying, my precious, my love? Is Sméagol losing his nerve?"

"No! No! Never!" the meek side responded with horror, trying to rid itself of the prospect. Sméagol rose up, and took a deep breath, his entire being trembling with the effort. "Sméagol hates nasty hobbitses! Sméagol wants to see them...dead!" he nodded again, in a quick, excitable movement, as though assuring himself.

The reflection's face was merciless. "And we will. Sméagol did it once; he can do it again." Gollum offered a grim smile.

Sméagol's eyes sparked with inner fire. "It's ours!!! Ours!!!" Then, with anxious fervor, "We must get the Precious! We must get It back!"

Gollum spoke shortly. " "Patience! Patience, my love." He stared into Sméagol's eyes with a foul grin. "First we must lead them to her."

"We lead them to the winding stairs." Sméagol added.

Gollum waited with infinite patience for his hasty pupil. "Yes, the stairs...and then?"

"Up, up, up, up the stairs we go and then we come to...the tunnel." Sméagol whispered eagerly.

It was with cold, evil malice that Gollum responded, his face devoid of all emotion. "And when they go in, there's no coming out." He turned his eyes to some distant vision. "She's always hungry. She always needs to feed. She must eat. All she gets is filthy orcses."

Sméagol licked his lips nervously. "And they doesn't taste very nice, does they, precious?"

"No, not very nice at all, my love." And then, absently, "She hungers for sweeter meats..."

It was at this moment that some inner sense woke Sam from slumber. For a moment, he looked about, trying to define the reason for his apprehension, and then, his ears caught a faint sound. Voices drifted to him on the faintest breeze, one hissing, full of evil and animosity, the other weak and fawning. Gollum.

Gollum's voice rasped harshly. "...hobbit meat. And when she throws away the bones and empty clothes, then we will find It!"

Sméagol jerked upright and screeched aloud. "And take It for meeeee!!!"

Anger flared in Gollum's eyes at these words. "For ussss."

"Yes, we meant, we meant for us." Sméagol recoiled in fear from his reflection, and then lurched violently as his body seized around a single word. "gollum! gollum!"

Gollum straightened up and stared into Sméagol's eyes. "The Precious will be ours...once the hobbitses are dead." He tossed a stone into the pool on the last word, watching the ripples in the pond drift away, only to reveal the shadowy form of Sam.

Sam had listened far beyond what he had intended. His heart was consumed with fury and hatred for this creature that they had trusted. Whom his master had trusted. He would not let this foul villain lead him and Frodo to death. Scarcely aware of his actions, he stooped and flung a stone at Gollum's head. It went true, and Gollum cried out as he tumbled onto the ground.

"You treacherous little thief!" he shouted, unable to contain his rage.

Gollum turned about wildly, seeking some means of aid, and his gaze fell on the still-sleeping hobbit. "Argh! No! Master!"

Even in dreams Frodo could not escape the evil of Mordor, he was trapped by the Ring and its dark power. Before his eyes he saw it, a wheel of fire burned forever into his vision, both beautiful and terrible in its beauty. Through the dream he heard sounds, muffled and distant, as though far beyond him. Again, they grew louder, and a sound pierced through the fog, bringing him sharply back to reality.

It took only a moment for Frodo to realize what had happened, and despite his weakness, he sprang to his feet, his hand clasping the hilts of his sword. "No, Sam! Leave him alone!" he seized Sam's shoulder, pulling him away from the cowering Gollum.

Sam turned to face him, his eyes bright. "I heard it from his own mouth; he means to murder us!!!" Hidden in his words, Frodo heard something else, something beyond Sam's anger. A plea, a faint hope that was slowing drifting away.

Gollum heard only the accusation and screamed at them. "Never! Sméagol wouldn't hurt a fly!" By some strange irony, he clasped his head frantically, pulling away his hand to see none other than what had once been such a creature he had spoken of. He shrieked and pointed wildly at Sam. "He's a horrid fat hobbit who hates Sméagol and who makes up nasty lies!"

Sam lunged at Gollum, his eyes blazing with rage. "You miserable little maggot! I'll throw your head in!" he tried to attack him, but Frodo, exercising the last of his strength, pulled him back.

"Sam!" he tried to call his friend back to reason.

His gaze still on Gollum, Sam struggled to free himself. "Called me a liar!" he shouted, and then, to Gollum, who attempted to hide behind a thin tree. "You're a liar!"

Frodo clutched Sam's jacket, turning him around. Their eyes met, and Frodo tried to reason with him. "We scare him off, we're lost!"

"I don't care!" Sam yelled, but his eyes softened, and the light of anger left his eyes, replaced by the brightness of tears. "I can't do it, Mr. Frodo! I won't wait around for him to kill us!" his voice broke.

Frodo was adamant in his reply. "I'm not sending him away!"

Sam's face grew suddenly tired, and the sadness borne of many days watching his old master and friend slip away was written plainly there. "You don't see it, do you? He's a villain."

"We can't do this by ourselves, Sam. Not without a guide." Frodo spoke quietly, as though to assure his friend. Sam watched him then, searching for something he could not find. "I need you on my side."

Sam heard his words with a sense of inner loss. "I'm on your side, Mr. Frodo."

Frodo looked away, and then focused on Sam, a hint of his old self in his voice. "I know, Sam. I know." He looked deep into Sam's eyes, and Sam saw in them an appeal for help. "Trust me."

Sam bowed his head, struggling to suppress the feelings striving in his heart. He could not argue with his master, and yet, he felt as though he had lost something very dear to him. He heard Frodo's voice through a wave of pain.

"Come, Sméagol."

Two words, and yet they had the power to break Sam's heart. Hurt reflected in his eyes as he saw Gollum take Frodo's outstretched hand, and he knew then that he had lost. Fear showed on Gollum's face, and Frodo turned, leading the creature with him. Gollum turned back for the merest of seconds, and Sam caught of glimpse of cruel, scheming grin.

Sam nodded, almost to himself, as if in wretched acquiescence of such treachery, his eyes glittering with tears. He bent his head and followed behind them, the traitor traveling hand in hand with his master.