Sam coughed and stumbled half-blindly through the smoke as he made his way into the crack of Mount Doom. He was already exhausted from having carried Frodo up the mountain's rocky, forbidding slope, and barely had the strength to put one foot in front of the other. He looked around for Frodo and was relieved to see him alive and well, standing at the end of a long, thin stretch of rock, holding the necklace which carried the ring in his hand.
"Mr. Frodo!" Sam called out.
"I'm here, Sam," Frodo said, turning around.
"Destroy it!" Sam shouted. "Toss it into the fire!"
Frodo dangled the ring over the precipice, watching the firelight dance across its metallic surface. He knew he should destroy it, but he couldn't. It was too unique, too beautiful, too… precious. It had become almost like his friend, making him feel good when nothing else could. How could he give that up?
"What are you waiting for?!" Sam demanded. "Just let it go!"
Let it go. Sam made it sound so easy. But it wasn't. Not when he had carried the ring for months, wearing it near his heart, putting it on when he had to hide. Surely he had more of a right to it than anyone else did. After all, he thought, as his uncle had before him, why not? Why shouldn't I keep it?
Frodo turned to Sam and grinned maliciously. "The ring is mine," he said.
And then he put it on, and instantly seemed to vanish.
"No," Sam whispered. He began to cry. This couldn't be happening. They couldn't have come all this way for nothing. He had to do something. Now. But what?
Sam wiped his eyes and positioned himself firmly across the small ledge that jutted out into the chasm. Even though he couldn't see Frodo, he knew Frodo couldn't leave Mount Doom without getting past him.
"Mr. Frodo," he said firmly, "I know you're still in there. That ring hasn't got a hold of you, not all the way. Listen to me, Mr. Frodo. You know how we were able to get past the Eye of Sauron? All our friends in the Fellowship, they must've created a distraction. They're out there fightin' Sauron's army, fightin' and dyin' for us. Remember Gandalf and Boromir? They gave their lives just so we could get this far, so you could destroy the Ring. We can't let them down, Mr. Frodo. We can't let their deaths be in vain."
They were fools. Frodo couldn't tell whether the thought came from him or the ring. Besides, how did Sam know that the rest of the Fellowship was fighting for them? For all he knew, they had abandoned them. They were all alone up here, and there was nothing to stop Frodo from taking the ring for himself. Nothing except Sam. And he could be easily dealt with.
Sam changed tactics. "Mr. Frodo, think of your uncle Bilbo," he said. "Think of what that ring nearly did to him. Think of what it did to Gollum, bein' alone with it for five hundred years. Do you want to end up like that? Because that's what the Ring does, Mr. Frodo. That's all it does. It doesn't make you powerful or make all your dreams come true. It just tears away at everythin' good inside you, until there's nothin' left."
Frodo was still invisible, so Sam couldn't tell what effect his words were having on him. He wasn't fighting Sam, but he wasn't giving up the ring either.
Sam was quickly running out of ideas. If reminders of Gandalf and Boromir's sacrifices and of Gollum and Bilbo's corruption by the ring didn't persuade him, what could?
Samwise the Brave. That was what Frodo had called him once. It seemed like forever ago now. But when the time came, would he be brave enough to do what had to be done? He had asked himself a few times, though he had tried to put the question out of his head, whether he would be able to kill Frodo to destroy the Ring, if it came to that. And it looked increasingly like it would. Gandalf hadn't explicitly told him he might have to, but surely the possibility had crossed his mind as well. Sam knew he would die to destroy the Ring. But could he kill to destroy it? More to the point, could he kill Frodo? He had sworn an oath to protect Frodo, but surely the Quest was more important than that. Would Frodo be no better than Isildur? Would Sam be no better than Elrond?
Frodo seemed to sense Sam's hesitation. "What are you going to do?" he challenged. "Kill me?"
"No," said Sam. "But if you want to leave with that ring, you'll have to kill me."
It was a risky gamble, he knew. Frodo might just be crazy enough to do it. But Sam had to try. He couldn't kill Frodo, and Frodo knew it. Now the choice was in Frodo's hands: kill his best friend and seal his fate, just like Smeagol had done five hundred years ago, or give up the ring and save Middle Earth - and his soul.
Frodo reached for the dagger he kept under his belt.
As long as he was wearing the ring, Sam couldn't see him holding it. It would be so easy to stab him in the chest, toss his body into the fires below, and walk away. The ring cried out for him to do it. He was so close, and then the ring would be all his, forever.
Frodo's hand trembled as he held the dagger over Sam's chest. He couldn't do it. Sam was his best friend, whom he had known for as long as he could remember. He had been his constant companion on this long, perilous journey. He had saved his life multiple times. He had carried him on his back up the slopes of Mount Doom. Even now, he looked back at him with a look of complete trust and love. If Frodo killed him, he would be the worst traitor in the history of Middle Earth.
He stole the bread, the ring whispered. Frodo's face twisted in anger, but then he remembered. Sam hadn't stolen the bread; Gollum had framed him. That was what the ring had made him do. He wanted to turn Sam and Frodo against each other so he could kill them and take the ring for himself. Sam was right. The ring made you care so much about keeping it that nothing else mattered.
"Mr. Frodo," said Sam calmly, "give me the ring."
Frodo looked down at the ring and stroked it fondly. If the ring made him want to kill Sam, he didn't want it. He closed his eyes tightly, ripped it off his finger, and gave it to Sam before he could change his mind.
"I knew you could do it, Mr. Frodo," Sam said, smiling.
Sam only hesitated for a moment before he tossed the ring into the fire. Frodo watched in horror as it fell, and, forgetting for a moment where he was standing, began to lunge after it. It was only a strong pair of arms around his waist that kept him from falling into the fires of Mount Doom.
As soon as the ring dissolved into the magma where it had been forged millennia ago, Frodo felt a great weight lifted from his shoulders, like he could breathe easier now. But he also felt a terrible sense of loss. With Sam holding him back, he looked deep down as far as he could at the spot where the ring had disappeared. It was over. It was all over.
But Frodo didn't have time to dwell on his feelings. Sauron's eye immediately turned towards Mount Doom, and the rock the hobbits were standing on began to crumble. Frodo and Sam rushed out of the mountain crevice, barely managing to jump to safety in time before the entire rock bridge collapsed. As magma gushed out of the mountain, pouring down its slopes, they scrambled onto one of the crags that jutted out above the deadly waves. It was small and very uncomfortable, but it would have to do for now.
While they waited for the magma to die down, Frodo and Sam had nothing to do but watch the sparks raining down around them. It felt like the end of the world, even though they knew that it was a beginning.
"I'm so sorry, Sam," Frodo said, sobbing.
"It's all right, Mr. Frodo," Sam said gently.
"No, it's not all right," Frodo said. "I was going to kill you. I had the dagger in my hand. I wanted to do it."
"But you didn't," Sam said. "You did the right thing in the end, and that's all that really matters."
"You did the right thing," Frodo said. "I couldn't have done it without you. I wasn't strong enough."
"No one else could've carried the ring as far as you did," Sam said. "You mustn't blame yourself, Mr. Frodo. You're rid of it now, and even if we die out here, we're going to die as ourselves. Even if we never see the Shire again, we know it's saved because of what we did. And it's still there in your heart, even if you don't remember it. That's the good that's worth fightin' for. And that's enough. It has to be enough."
Sam held Frodo tightly, stroking his back as if he was comforting a small child. Frodo reached out to Sam, trying to support him even a fraction of the way Sam had supported him. The ring was gone, Gollum was gone, and there was nothing more to stand between them. They had been through something together that no one else could ever understand. And when the eagles came to carry them away, they knew that, for better or for worse, nothing would ever be the same.
A/N: This is my first LotR fanfic, so apologies if this premise has been done a million times. Also, I haven't read the books, so this is just based off the movies.