Disclaimer: I don't own anything Lord of the Rings.

A/N: I'd like to thank everyone for the great reviews for the last chapters! I hope you all will enjoy this one. Again, the more reviews and expressed interest I get, the faster I will update.

Tola brought up a very good point about Gollum unknowingly doing good, but I'd like to say… please, just give me a chance. I'm getting there.

Chapter 3: Revelations on Morgul Road

I woke again in the middle of the night, or so it seemed at first. I felt as if I had hardly slept, and the Sun had not risen. The sky was covered in a stifling brown, and the air was heavy to breathe. The warfare of the Enemy had commenced.

I sat up, reaching for my pack, in which I had stored plenty of provisions for my travels. I looked over to see the two Hobbits doing the same. Some of their foodstuffs were not uncommon to Minas Tirith, but they were holding a strange cake, thin and paler than fresh parchment, the likeness of which I had never before seen. These two Shire-Hobbits, whose kind habitually remained unassumingly in their quiet homeland with no lusts for travel, had journeyed far and wide, for some purpose yet unknown to me.

"I hope that you two are prepared for this stage of the quest. The Morgul Road is no place for jest or leisure," I said.

"Ready or not, we must leave now, for we have not another moment to spare in leisure. Lead on."

So, we left the relative sheltered shadow of the maimed King's stone head and made for the crossroads. We turned East towards Mordor and journeyed along the cheerless Morgul Road. Soon, we saw the terrible city of Minas Morgul looming up to the right. I looked on it with contempt.

"This place is full of nothing but pure evil. Ever has this City been at war with Minas Tirith, save in the days when it was called Minas Ithil and was a great city of Gondor."

Frodo and Sam stared at it too, and the latter frowned on it and turned back to the Road in front. But Frodo did a very strange thing then. He started walking towards the city, his head to the side and his arms outstretched, as if he were in a daze. All I could do was look on in horror; I was completely convinced that he had finally gone mad, whether by the poison of the Morgul air, or by some other device of the Enemy, or by a cause completely unknown to me.

"Do not go towards it! Come back! Our path lies on the Road," I shouted vainly.

Sam turned and ran towards him. "No, Mr. Frodo! Not that way, she says, and I agree with her. Come back towards the Road." To my relief, he guided Frodo back in the right direction. The dazed look wore off Frodo's face, but before he had time to respond, a great, bone-chilling din arose. All three of us scrambled to get off the road. We hid among the large boulders of the Ephel Dúath, in nooks and cracks that we could find to completely shield us from the terror below.

After a few moments, I mustered the courage to raise my head and watch the hosts of Mordor march out of the city. It was a fearsome sight – rows and rows of formidable Orcs all marching heavily, making the sound of iron on stone. But most formidable of all were the Black Riders, the Nine, though not all nine were present. At the head of the line was the Lord of them all, robed magnificently in all black, seated upon a black steed. So terrible he was that I trembled at the mere sight of him. When he shrieked, every joint in my body quaked, and my blood curdled. Never before had I hard such a shrill, terrifying sound. I covered my ears, though it did not do much good.

I looked over at the other two to see them in much of the same state. But Frodo, whom I was still convinced had gone mad, was fingering a small golden ring, which lied in his open palm. He kept motioning as if to put it on, but apparently thinking better of it, drew away his finger each time. When the Orc hosts had finally emptied out of the city, he placed it back on the chain and hung it about his neck, and he concealed it underneath his garments. I wondered at the meaning of this.

"It was good of you not to put it on, Mr. Frodo," Sam put in. "Who knows what would have happened if you had."

"I know, Sam." He looked grave, and worn, as if he bore a great burden. "I cannot forget Gandalf's instructions and precautions."

"Why is the danger so great in putting on a Ring that even Gandalf the Wise would caution you against it? Or is Gandalf not he that my people call Mithrandir, the Gray Pilgrim?"

"That is indeed he. I recall now that Faramir called him by that name," answered Frodo. "But about the perils of the Ring we shall not speak, especially here where it is strongest. You should not question me further concerning this. Were you not told to refrain from inquiring about it?"

"I have already guessed more than you think, young Halfling. I was asked not to question you concerning matters of your mission. Therefore, I know that this Ring must relate to your errand somehow. I do not doubt that this is also the Mighty Weapon that Denethor sought for Gondor. However, that puzzles me, if its power is strongest in the Enemy's Realm."

"Indeed, you have guessed much. Too much for my comfort, I should say. I shall not deny that what I carry has been referred to as a weapon. Yet, it shall not be used as such, indeed for the very reason that you named. It will serve as a weapon to the Enemy alone; it answers to none other. But, come! We should speak no more of this matter."

That little bit of information was all I needed to fill in the missing piece in the puzzle. Whispered rumors and tall tales about this very Ring had weaved their way through Minas Tirith of late. But they were counted as no more than rumors of the past, and none gave any indication that this One Ring had survived throughout the forgotten Dark Ages and even ages ere that. I stood for a few silent moments in shock and disbelief.

"This then is The Ring, which was believed by even the wise to have perished form the Earth? And we are going to try and march it right in the middle of the very stronghold of the Dark Lord. For what purpose? It is folly! Let it rather be cast away forever out of His reach, in the depths of the Sea, or in some far, secret place of the Elves, beyond the Blue Mountains, or even in the endless depths of the delving Dwarves."

Frodo answered, "We cannot chance for it to be found again. Gollum, who had this Thing before Bilbo my predecessor, encountered it by chance while it lied in the depths of a lake near Anduin. This is the only place where it can be unmade, and unmade it must be. I must go on towards the mountain. Will you not lead me there willingly, or must I plead with you for the remainder of the journey?"

I looked from one Hobbit to the next in utter confusion, not knowing what to say. From the start, I had known that this mission was vain, but now I knew that the Enemy would find the Ring as soon as we crossed the borders of Mordor, and they would take us along with It. We were not merely walking into death traps; if we were, I would have continued not to mind. But the torture chambers of Barad-dûr, which lied what seemed like scant miles ahead, were large and cruel; its victims sought and pleaded for the relative peace of premature death. I began to tremble as I thought about being tortured past the brink of sanity, and searing pain placed on each bone in my body every passing moment, surpassing all other pain I had experienced in my life combined. And there would be no rest or a single break, save in eternal sleep.

I finally answered Frodo. "You will have to plea with me no longer. Any of your pleas henceforth will be futile. Frodo, if you seek endless torment, you are on the right path. Otherwise, I beseech you one last time to turn around. Go back to the Shire or wheresoever your heart desires! But if you will insist for whatever foolish reason to continue, then I will tell you the path, but I refuse to lead you a step farther. You must continue East, and make for the pass of Cirith Ungol. It is not far up the road, and it is marked on the left by a high, winding stair. If after mounting it you can find a path across the impenetrable border of the Ephel Dúath, then you must make your way across the Plateau. As soon as you pass the mountains, you will be able to see Barad-dûr and the Eye that closes not. Closer West is the Mountain that you seek."

"Then that path I must take. I see that I cannot force you to go further, and even threat of death does not daunt you. Go your way then! I have not another moment to spare," Frodo said.

"I know not why you do this, but you are courageous beyond reckoning, young Hobbit. I wish that I could say the same of myself. I wish you whatever luck there may be in such times when evil always prevails. I should not wonder if the end of Middle-earth as we know it is near. I am sorry that you are laden with such a task." I felt my eyes sting with hot tears, and this time, I did not fight to hold them back.

Sam, who had been silent throughout the exchange, suddenly grew very red in the face, as if with anger, and spoke up. "You don't know what a burden this task is! Only now, you begin to see. But none other save him will ever understand what being assigned this errand ever meant. All this time we have been kind to you as we know how to be, and you repay us by walkin' off like this!"

The tears flowed freely from my eyes now. What was I to do? I was torn between loyalty to two Hobbits I scarcely knew and the rational desire to flee from what would be unfathomable torture. Yet, I had to make a decision, and I had to make it without knowing what would come of it. I did not know that I would live to regret and mourn the choice that I made; but hindsight is perfect sight, and foresight is foggy at best, and one cannot change that which has passed. Once a decision has been made, it cannot be revoked, and one has to live with its consequences for good or for evil. And, if for evil, one can try to outmatch it with good, but an ounce of wickedness outweighs a pound of righteousness, for a soiled conscience cannot be mended by time or any other healing process known to Man or even Elf.

So, at the time when I made my decision, I looked again from Sam to Frodo, who both looked enraged and as if they were in great haste. Seeing this, I said, "Farewell!" rather shakily before I turned and fled as quickly as I dared.

I did not look back to see the reaction of either of the two; I looked only ahead to where I was going. But where indeed was that, since I had no place to which I could turn for safety or comfort? I had not fled two hundred yards before I slumped behind a boulder that shielded me from the Morgul Road. Why was I running, if without aim? And in which direction would I turn my face next? Surely, not further East, and just as definitely, not back to the North, in the cheerless lands East of Bree and the Edge of the Wild. Furthermore, my City was under siege without a doubt; Minas Morgul was deserted, and ever had that city been at war with mine. Even if the siege ended in triumph of Gondor, would I be able to return and look the Lord Faramir in the eye while telling him of how I deserted the two Hobbits? True that Lord Denethor had sent two riders to recall us, but somehow, that did not make this deed of mine feel right. But at times when I told myself that this would come to no good, and that I had to go back to the Hobbits, my courage would fail me, and I could not muster up the strength to even rise anew.