Stumble
Do not stumble, the sneak had told us. We were in the midst of the Dead Marshes, and we had been told not to stumble. Nonetheless, all three of us – Frodo, Stinker, and myself – were covered in the reeking slime from the curls on our heads to our woolly toes.
Mister Frodo thought I did not notice when he began to lag behind. I purposely slowed down, ignoring Stinker when he whined at us to hurry.
'We must hurry, yess,' the sneak was whimpering now. 'Do not stumble, do not follow the nasssty lights!'
'If he says 'do not stumble' one more time...' I growled under my breath, leaving the threat hanging.
Mister Frodo took wrong step at that moment. 'Do not stumble!' Smeagol wailed, loping back towards my master. 'Foolish master! Must not stumble!'