Disclaimer: I own only my laptop and a battered and much read copy of Lord of the Rings. I write for fun and creativity and the meager acclaim of fellow writers on ffn.
AN: Think what you will of this chapter and all future chapters in this story, I am not attempting to imply a former romance between Sam and Frodo. I suppose if you really like them being in love, you can read it that was, but that is not that thrust of this story. Just thought I'd make that clear.
Last Ring-Bearer
Chapter 2
Sam traveled, alone and weary in heart, for nearly a day. The plain of Gorgoroth spread before him as he picked his careful way down the cliff face. It was still filled with the dreadful host of orcs, and he could not see a way to cross without being taken.
At least he did not hunger or thirst. When he had taken Sting, the Ring, and the Lady's phial from Frodo, he had just enough sense beyond the consuming grief to know that he would need Frodo's provisions and water bottle.
With both the provisions given to them by Faramir, the lembas bread, and Sam's cookware, his pack was filled near to bursting, so much that he had to tie the water bottles next to Sting on his belt. He had lost his iron-shod staff in Shelob's tunnels, but he supposed that that it was just as well, for without it his load was lighter.
Even so, when Sam had been walked for some time he realized that his beloved pots and pans would have to be left behind. He didn't want to leave them lying somewhere where orcs, or worse, Gollum might come upon them, so he vowed to drop them down the first crevasse he came to.
Sam walked until he felt his feet could carry him no further, nearly a day and half a night by his reckoning. He sat down in a cave set the cliff face so shallow that it was more of a depression, but it was the best he could find.
His grief for Frodo threatened to overwhelm him then, but he fought it back as best he could. To distract himself, he took stock of his food and water.
The wind parches my throat; I'm going through the water faster than I ought. I need to find a stream of some sort soon.
Save the lembas for last, he thought, It will last longer.
Sam chewed on some dried meat and fruit, not really hungry but knowing that he needed it.
Having taken stock and eaten, and knowing he could walk no farther for awhile, Sam could no longer ignore his grief. Tears began sliding slowly down his face and he didn't bother brushing them away.
"Oh Mister Frodo," Sam whispered, "This Quest was never meant for me." Then he cast himself on the ground and slept, uncaring of who might find him.
He dreamt of a wheel of fire that hung from his neck, growing heavier with every second. It dragged his head to the ground, until he was kneeling in dust and ash.
If he put it on it would become feather-light, he knew. But if he put it on then he would be visible for all to see.
The flamed from the Ring ignited the ash around him, until he was bound and immobile in a sea of fire.
If he put the Ring on, he could make the fire go out.
As he reached out to where the Ring burned in the dust, he saw hairy feet in the dust, miraculously unsigned by the raging inferno. Someone took him by the shoulders, and lifted him effortlessly to his feet.
Frodo stood there, holding Sam by the shoulders and looking the same happy Hobbit he had been at Bilbo's birthday party. Only instead of being rosy and peach, a clear white light shone from underneath his skin.
"If you put it on, even for a moment, all fires will go out." Frodo said gently.
Sam didn't know why Frodo didn't feel the fire, but Sam's clothing was beginning to smolder. "It burns Mister Frodo."
Frodo gave him an understanding smile. "Our life always burns us away in the end, because we are mortal. You must let it burn."
"I'll try Mister Frodo, but I fear it is already eating me."
Frodo kissed Sam gently on the forehead, and the fire shrank away from them both. The Ring stopped dragging down on Sam's neck, and it seemed as if cold water was flowing from where Frodo had kissed him. And light was shining down from a star-strewn sky.
Sam awoke, feeling refreshed. His grief was still there, but it no longer felt as if his heart would shatter from it. The Ring still seemed unnaturally heavy, but it wasn't burning like it had in the dream.
Sam drank a little water, then emerged from his small hole in the cliff. The first thing he noticed that there seemed to be a little lighter than when he had gone to sleep.
He looked out once more on the plain of Gorgoroth, determined to find a path among the orc-camps.
What he saw made him despair anew. By his reckoning he was at least forty miles from the scarred bulk of Orodruin, and the strait path was packed with Sauron's army.
He tried to remember back to Rivendell, to the few times he'd looked at a map. He thought of trying to sneak by to the north, but dismissed it.
They'll be packed in tighter there; the pass is much narrower. That left attempting to circle to the south, which if he remembered correctly was much more open, with fewer places to hide even a small Hobbit.
Can't go back, can't go forward... what am I to do? He looked back the way he came, and on the edge of the cliff above him there was a line of blue sky.
Something good must have happened, if the darkness could not hold sway in the West. Sam thought, and that gave him new hope that he could indeed make the journey and finish his part.
Deciding that he didn't have enough food, even with his extended provisions, to circle to the south and that attempting a straight dash was folly, he chose to turn north once he made it to the foot of the cliff, and trust to the rocky landscape to keep him hidden from unfriendly eyes.
Sam set out once more. He was still alone, still afraid, but a new hope had grown in his heart that could not be quenched even by the dark skies above him and the smoky ruins of Gorogoroth.