Additional Disclaimer: The first four lines exchanged between the Orcs were taken directly from the book and I do not own them, as I do not own anything else related to this story except my original character.

A/N: Thanks to all who reviewed! I hope everyone enjoys this chapter. Please constructively review for this chapter even if you think it's terrible.

Chapter 5: Through Cirith Ungol

"Now, how to get in?" Sam wondered aloud. "There's no going back, that's for sure. But this path seems to dead end right at the front door of that Orc tower, or if not, they can certainly spot us walking past from up there."

"Despair not. I believe that this is actually the rear of said Tower. Even the seemingly most fortified stronghold has dark spaces small enough for a Hobbit to slip through. Our only hope lies in the pass, for we cannot scale these cliffs." I motioned to the frowning walls on either side. "Getting past should be a fairly easy task for me, I should guess. I have become quite skilled over the years in using and wit to evade danger. Come! Let us take the remainder of this pass. Too long have we remained in the open, and not out of the view of the tower you fear."

"Very well, then. I shall carry my Master if it breaks my back, even though you may be a good deal stronger than me."

"All right. But if he become too heavy for you, speak up, and I will do what I can to help you. I probably do have more bodily strength than you."

Finally, we set out, quickly but stealthily as possible, always scanning with eyes and ears to make sure no Orc was about. We stayed as close as we could to the right side of the pass, for the Tower was on the left, and the cliffs on the right side provided more hope of cover should Orcs appear. And, just as we were at the foot of the shallow stairwell in the shadow of the Tower, appear they did, in great numbers. By good fortune, or because they made a typical Orc-racket as they approached, we heard them well before they were able to see us, and we slipped away into a barely visible crevice in the broken boulders of the rocky cliffs. Soon afterwards, another group came from the other direction, evidently out of the tunnel, to meet the first. I crept as far as I dared to the front of the crevice in order to see and hear what I may. Sam sat down and laid Frodo's head in his lap, making the unconscious Hobbits as comfortable as possible with what little room there was on the ground.

"Hai, Gorbag!" the leader of the first group called. "What are you doing up here? Had enough of war already?"

"Orders, you lubber," the other barked back. "And what about you Shagrat? Tired of lurking up there? Thinking of coming down to the fight?"

"Orders to you. I'm in command of this pass. So, speak up! What is your report?"

"We've seen nothing."

Shagrat snarled. "Nothin', eh? Is that the best you Morgul rats can come up with? We thought we saw something moving along the pass – a spy, perhaps two of 'em. Sneaky little maggots, they were, but we saw 'em, several of us did. And our eyes don't deceive us as easily as yours, Morgul Rats."

My heart felt like it had stopped beating altogether and jumped into my mouth, but I had no time to think of my peril. This was the perfect opening for an argument to materialize. I could not lose what could be my only chance. I needed my voice to sound fierce and hot with rage, not as that of one who is being hunted by two great hosts. "Morgul rats, you call us? We do all the fighting for you stinkin' Ungol pieces of baggage, and all you do is sit up in that tower of yours and stare out of windows." I deepened my voice and made it hoarse, until it convincingly sounded like that of an Orc, and I threw it in the direction of the Morgul group. Sam started slightly, and leaned forward to look at me as if I were mad. I simply mouthed the word Wait.

The ruse worked; Shagrat stepped forward and addressed the group that was obviously form Minas Morgul. "See! All your talk about fighting all high and mighty like, and you don't have the nerves to stand up to me and say what you said to my face. Step forward, the one of you who said that. If you talk of fighting, come forward and get what you want!"

The dispute was underway; soon it would heat up until it was as hot as flame, and it would culminate in physical conflict before long. If I needed to add spark to fuel the fire, I would do so at my discretion. But the need never came. A particularly strong and bold-looking Orc who was standing beside Gorbag stepped forward to challenge Shagrat. "I don't know who said that, but it don't matter. He speaks for me and all of us. We're sick of you Ungol maggots sittin' lazily watching Shelob do your work for you, and then giving us orders. You'll get your fight!"

Quicker than lightning, he produced an arrow from his quiver, strung his bow, and shot Shagrat in the heart at close range. Shagrat cried out as he sank to the ground, and with swift vengeance, the rest of the Ungol Orcs charged at the Orcs of Minas Morgul. Arrows sailed through the air at high speeds, as did heads of various other Orcs, and blade and hand-to-hand combat ensued. Other Orcs from the Tower dashed into the fray, only to be shot down by some Morgul Orcs at the rear. One arrow flew from behind the Orc who had stepped forward, and it pierced the back of his neck. He fell to the ground with a hoarse final cry.

I looked over at Sam with a glance of amusement, which he hesitantly returned. Then he peered out of the crack at the combat, still ongoing but in its final stages, and he reached down to stroked his Master's still head. He started to speak. "I can't leave you, Mr. Frodo, not for one second. But what about those other Orcs?" A peek outside the crack showed that the Morgul Orcs had vanquished the other group, though their numbers were greatly diminished. They were beginning to loot the others' gear, and with all the racket they made, they could never have heard Sam's quiet whispers. "We'll never get through unseen! It's best I go and finish them off. But I hate to leave you."

"I'll look after him, Sam, if there is any comfort in that. You have my word, however little that may mean to you."

Sam looked at me sharply, as if at first he had forgotten that I was still seated across from him. "Tallah promises to look after you, Mr. Frodo." He leaned down and kissed his Master's forehead through the outer cloak. "We must trust to luck." He rose and reached for the chain around his neck, and took the Ring off of it. Then he put it on his finger and, lo and behold! Even as he made the motion, his entire body vanished into thin air. It seemed that he crawled out of the crevice that had concealed him, and leaped into the company of Orcs, for the next moment, I heard a shockingly fierce Hobbit cry. Though he was wholly invisible, I could see the sword that he drew, and it glowed a radiant blue in the surrounding darkness.

I moved to Frodo's side and lifted him with relative ease, bringing him to rest on my lap. And as I reached through a gap in the folds of the cloak that encompassed him, I put my hand to his face and saw that it was no longer as clammy as it had previously been. His breast swelled with breath slightly more rapidly. The poison was wearing off.

A few moments later, Sam reappeared, standing in front of the crevice with the Ring in its proper place on the chain around his neck. He looked as one who has just won a great victory in battle, thought not without great pain and price.

"Well, I took care of the rest of them. We'd best be moving along, before we get any more visitors." He nodded in the direction of the Tower that loomed close above us now.

"You speak rightly." I climbed out of the crevice, taking a moment to stretch my cramped muscles. Then I lied on the ground, reached for Frodo, and dragged him out as tenderly as possible with Sam's aid.

"Wait!" Sam cried suddenly, and he smacked a hand to his brow. "Samwise, you ninnyhammer! If we're going through enemy land, it's best to be disguised as the enemy."

I caught his meaning directly and wished to strike my own brow for not having thought of it. "Again, a wise thought. But do you think that the Orc gear will fit us properly? And what of Frodo?"

"It won't fit like gear made for us, or this Elvish stuff, of course. But we'll have to make due. Perhaps we can find Frodo something somewhere else along the road."

We examined all the Orc gear on the limp bodies and hastily donned the mail and helms of the Morgul Orcs, which fit us much better than the others, for they were built slightly shorter but stouter. Sam had no need of a sword, for he still carried Sting, but I had taken a long knife for my own defense, though I had little knowledge of how to brandish it. There was a little room in each of our packs to fit a few minimal items for Frodo to put on when he returned to consciousness.

Once we were done, Sam carried Frodo once more, and we resumed our journey, this time as alleged Orcs carrying a bound prisoner through Mordor.