Disclaimer: The most I own is 1 copy of each Lord of the Rings book and 1 copy of each movie. Sam's speech about the tales that really mattered is partially pulled from the book, as are the Orc's line and Frodo's declaration at the end of the chapter.
A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed for last chapter! Those really are a big encouragement. This chapter is very long, but in it lies the long-awaited resolution. Let me know what you think!
Chapter 7: The Road to Mount Doom
Sam roused me again while the night was old and had almost given way to day, or day as we would call it in brief, though there was no sign of sun or even light. Had I not been awoken, I may have thought that it was still late; I felt nearly as tired as I had the night before. Nevertheless, I bit my tongue and kept watch as I had promised, though it proved uneventful and lasted a scant few hours before Sam arose once more. He woke his Master, whose head had been resting peacefully in Sam's lap. Then the three of us ate a hurried breakfast, accompanied by what water we could spare, and we were on the road as quickly as possible.
"We are bearing North along the Eastern side of the Mountains," I told Frodo, who had not yet woken up at the moment when Sam and I decided our route. "We will continue this direction until your Mount Doom is due East, and then we will head as straight for it as conditions may allow. We may have to circumvent some Orcs along the way."
About this time we noticed that said Orcs, still somewhat scattered and a little below us, were moving in the same direction as we were. It was Sam who, after a space, first voiced his concerns. "D'you think they're following us? Have they caught us?"
I slowed down for a moment in order to survey the scene below me. "No. If they had spotted us, it would have been known. It is not after the manner of Orcs to be discreet. And, look! See how their eyes are fixed on the road ahead and not on us. Seems as if they go to amass at the Black Gate once more, to march off to war in the West. Still, I advise caution; it takes but one to sound the alarm. I hope only that we may slip past unnoticed."
Carefully and deliberately, we moved along the mountainside, and constantly I repeated my prayer that we remain unseen. Sam was the most optimistic of the threesome. "We must trust to luck. This ridge conceals us fine. Just let's keep moving, and if we're seen, well, we will ford that river if we come to it. And while we are speaking of rivers if we could only have a little water! But we must trust to luck in that, too."
For my part, after Sam said this, I began to realize that I was thirsty, and just how much I yearned for the sweet satisfaction of pure water. We had been conserving the water in the few skins that we had between us, which was surely wise, but it helped in adding to our increasing fatigue. As it seemed, there was no water to be had in these barren lands where nothing grew, and our skins had not been filled since we had reached the East bank of the River Anduin. My tongue was cleaving to my palette, and each of my steps was attained through the greatest exertion. I grew both tired and weary, and felt as if I myself were weighted down by a great weight, though I had slept soundly for the better part of the previous night. How much more weary could Frodo be feeling, he who did indeed carry a great burden and whose peaceful slumber might be tainted by some demonic images instigated by the Ring's evil?
A glance over my shoulder revealed that he was trudging along much more wearily than I, with eyes half closed and neck bowed low, so that he saw only the ground beneath. Sam had temporarily gone on ahead, for some reason yet unknown to me; perhaps he had seen something distant and was serving as a scout. Seeing this, I staggered to Frodo's side, placing a supportive arm round his shoulders. "Come on, Frodo." I said, and, though he looked in the direction of my face, I do not know whether he recognized me. "Sam is already ahead of us by a good deal, and I think he might have urgent news for us."
Frodo did not respond, but rather leaned against my shoulder for support, as one who is in a daze. Not a few steps had we progressed before we heard the voice of Sam calling frantically to us. Thinking that there was some dreadful terror that he encountered ahead, we quickened our pace, but when we reached Sam we saw that his face was full of wonder, not terror, and his voice was excited, but with joy and not with desperation. Still an even greater sound reached our ears, and as we turned to our left, agape, wonder found its way into our expressions as well. I hardly dared to believe that I gazed upon water, a small stream that poured thence from the rock above.
"Look, Master!" Sam was exclaiming. "Just when we thought we'd run out of luck, we find water! Well, our luck hasn't failed us yet."
We smiled more broadly than we had in days, and sat down gratefully at the foot of the steam, quickly drinking to our fill thought the water had an indescribably rancid taste. Once we'd had quite enough, we took the opportunity to fully replenish our water skins.
It was water, notwithstanding its impurities, and it nourished and revived our bodies, as well as it gave us a new hope. When Frodo rose anew, I remarked how much more energy there was in his step. He looked no longer timid and exhausted Hobbit, but resolute with some stamina left in his wearied bones, enough so that he could move and walk about on his own. Now not even his great burden had the potency to cause him to falter. "We shall see how long that lasts," I thought sadly, hoping for his sake that he endured longer in this ameliorated state than I supposed he might.
Thus we moved on, seemingly no nearer to our ultimate destination than we had been. The Orcs below us, too, kept marching on ahead, madly, and as if blindly focused in that one direction, toward one single purpose. Other tribes and new groups came from behind the primary one, merging haphazardly into one enormous host. Ever so cautiously we continued, periodically taking cover to preclude any potentially hazardous incidents, lest a pair of curious eyes wander in our direction. We assumed the air of Orcs charged with border patrol, performing as we ought to, like good servants of the Dark Tower. This simple guise, thanks to our good fortune, held out for long hours till what would have been the hour of twilight, were there a Sun to tell the hour in those dark lands. Our incredible luck in remaining concealed thus raised my spirits by a good deal. I, who was still the active guide, then looked over to my right, where the Mountain was fully visible, its flames starkly contrasting with the surrounding black. "Just a little farther North," I announced, "before we turn due East towards our impending doom, if I may be forgiven for bitter jest in my choice of word."
"I don't know East from North as you do," Sam said. "But any Hobbit with plain sense can see that it will be impossible to cut across that mob of Orcs. No need to blow on a trumpet during a game of hide-and-seek, as my Gaffer would say!"
"My dear Sam," I laughed. "With this Orc-gear, we shall blend in as well as blue fish in the sea. It will be best to move among the Orcs while they move; there is more of a chance that we may slip away unnoticed. This course of action would not prove fruitful were these Orcs still."
"But also, there will be a chance of us getting stuck in that sea of Orcs. Our purpose in this quest is to save our friends, not march out to war against them with the enemy," Sam said.
"Such a risk we have no choice but to take; if we continue in this direction, we shall find ourselves facing the Black Gate all the same. We must soon assume a different course."
"A fine mess we've landed ourselves in," Sam said, shaking his head. "But what do you think of it, Mr. Frodo?"
Simultaneously, Sam and I turned to Frodo, who had been silent to that point. Upon seeing him, I observed that he stood very still, clutching the Ring from the spot where it hung around his neck as he often did of late.
I think nothing of it Sam. And furthermore, I feel as if I cannot think at all with so empty a stomach, and I cannot decide anything." With a heaving sigh, he sunk onto the rocky ground.
"We've gone far enough today, and have eaten little," said Sam, taking his place by his Master's side; I followed suit. "Let us speak no more of East or North till after we've eaten."
Even after we had finished, Frodo was no more decisive about what to do concerning our predicament. He dithered uncertainly as he mused aloud, taking into consideration both Sam's ideas and mine. In the end, he only sighed heavily once again. "What can we do? We sit here, weary, and trapped between fire and foe. We have no place where we can safely turn. How then can we pick the lesser of these evils? I feel as if I can go no farther." And he bowed his head.
I merely sat where I was, uncertain of what to do or say, feeling quite useless as I gazed at Frodo. But in those moments I felt, or thought I felt, a sense of the reality, the weight of his burden, and I looked at him with pity in my eyes.
"Alas that our path is laid thus!" said I.
"There isn't aught we can do about that. Our path is before us, like in the old tales and songs, the ones that really mattered. Folk seem to have been landed in them, usually – their paths were just laid that way. And they were tough paths, not just trails to coast along on real easy like, with maybe a bump here or there. But if they'd turned back, we should never have known of their great tales. They would've been just like ordinary folk, nothin' to speak of. They sure had lots of chances to turn back, only they didn't, no matter how hard it was not to." Here he cast a deliberate glance in my direction, full of rebuke. Unable to withstand the guilt that it induced, I turned my neck downward and looked at the ground in shame.
"It is thanks to me that this is the way our path takes us; this is the route that I chose for us to follow. And follow it we must, lest we become cowards unworthy of this type of great tale. Though I fear that I have already become such a coward. And now I have added stupidity to cowardice in choosing an improper path for us to follow."
There was a slight pause, filled with melancholy thought. After a few moments, I looked up from the ground to see that Frodo's eyes were on me. "Unfitting as it may be," he said, "It is better than the only other alternative, which would have been to take the Orc-Road. Some time, have Sam tell you of a so-called 'shortcut' that I chose for us to take while we were yet in our own homeland. Then you will laugh at what you called your stupidity! But as for right now, look how the Orcs amass. We ought to wait for some form of chaos in the mob, for this is common among Orcs. Then we will approach the bewildered crowd and manage to slip away in the confusion, similar to what you and Sam did before I awoke. See! I am thinking clearly now."
So we continued and, ever so surreptitiously, and in small increments, approached the line of Orcs. We came nearly to the point of crossing it, and it seemed as though Frodo's plan would work without incident. But the Orcs were placed in a more orderly formation than we had anticipated, and because we were moving in a contrary direction, we became easy to spot. To our dread, one patrolling Orc came towards us and began scolding us hardly in the common tongue. "Traitors! Rebel scum! Where do you think you're going? You know your orders. Your kind was supposed to be at the Isenmouthe yesterday!" We heard a whip crack, and took the harsh blow with pain. Sam and I staggered, struggling to keep our balance, and I refrained from crying aloud, but Frodo, unable to bear his weight as well as endure pain provoked by the whip, would have fallen to the ground had Sam not been there to catch and support him. "Move on, you slime!" the Orc kept shouting to us as well as to the other mob, part of which had paused to cast curious glances at us.
We fell into formation in the dreadful line, Frodo leaning on Sam for support.
"It's such a weight, Sam," the former related. "I feel as if it is a task to even move, much less continue under the impatient prodding of the scourge." I longed more than ever to help Frodo then, but of what use could I be when he had so faithful and courageous a servant nearby, on whom he could lean in any circumstance? All I thought of to say was: "Move as fast as you can, and this devilish Orc will be less inclined to crack the whip." I succeeded only in making Frodo wince at the mention of the harsh weapon.
"Don't be so down, Master. I'm right here next to you," Sam assured his Master, and at once, he smiled weakly and regained some of the strength he needed to march forward.
And march we did – farther and farther forward we moved, till my mind became void of everything save the sound of my step. What remained of my will urged me forward, so that I would not have to endure the harsh crack of the scourge. All hopes of completing our mission almost completely strayed out of memory and I only longed to somehow escape the fate that awaited me: marching out of the Black Gate to meet my fellow city-men in war, armed with only a long knife that I knew not how to use. But our good fortune that had been present with us all throughout this cumbersome journey did not fail us entirely. Two or three other large groups of Orcs approached the larger mob from the South and East, and at this point, were haphazardly merging into one another. In the disarray, we saw an opening for escape.
Sam looked at Frodo, and then at me. He whispered his words so that the marching iron-clad Orcs around us failed to hear his soft suggestions of treachery over their own din. "Now for it! This is our best chance to get away where we need to go."
I nodded my consent as my spirits rose from their despairing state. My mind was again lucid, rather than absently brooding. The new hope also seemed to have this same effect on Frodo, and before we knew it, our trio had discreetly combated through the steady flow of Orcs making their way North, and we had the liberty at last of turning East as was necessary.
We continued until we were certain that we were out of sight and earshot of the dreadful creatures. Not long thereafter, we sank onto the ground in a state of utter exhaustion, for we had gone far that day even before we had marched long and hard; much had transpired, and it was well after dusk.
"Good luck at least that the dreadful Eye is turned towards his war in the West and not towards us," I said.
We started out quite slowly the following day. Sam and I arose feeling refreshed, but Frodo had not closed his eyes last night for a moment without seeing that formidable Eye of flame, gazing back at him without blinking. Now he came along wearily, the Ring's weight twice as heavy as it ever had been. Yet not a complaint did he utter; forbearingly he carried his burden as he resolutely moved forward, step by painful step. But at what was about midday by my estimations, his strength started to wane. At last, he ceased to walk, and exhaled deeply as he finally expressed his discomfort aloud.
"I cannot go on like this. This Ring is such a weight. I cannot carry it as well as wear all of this cumbersome Orc-gear. I shall have to cast it aside. I cannot go one step further, and the guise is no longer needed now." And with that, he cast way all of his armor, down to the mail shirt and once again donned the Lórien cloak. Sam and I did likewise with our own Orc-armor, though Sam still kept charge of Sting, and thus, we were able to walk a little faster though easier.
Days passed, many long, tiresome days, each as dull and arduous as the preceding. Our water supply again began to dwindle, as did our stores of provisions. In secret, Sam gave most of his share of food and water to his Master. Moved as I was by this simple generosity, I did not return to him the kindness of the favor; I was weary as well, and needed every bit of the sustaining energy that my portion of the food and water provided. I did, however, limit the share of lembas allotted to me to one small bite. We had been saving the supply of wondrous Elven waybread for the last, most rigorous part of the journey, but, now that the mountain was in view, we thought it best to consume the rest of it for this last stage.
At long last, after so much toiling and despair, we reached the foot of the mountain, and its fires were all that filled our view. Silently I wondered what we would do, what we ought to do, now that we had reached it. The path that we currently followed wrapped around the North side of the mountain. Would we be able to find our way to our designated spot via the path? Or would we be required to ascend to its peak in order to make our way to the interior, to destroy this wretched Ring that only this fire could unmake?
A sense of indecision was present also in the faces of Frodo and Sam, but in the former, I noted also something akin to exhaustion. I paused in my step to observe; mere seconds later, he swayed and fell to the ground before I had time to anticipate and catch him. Sam, who was but a few steps ahead of Frodo, turned about, and rushed to his side. Frodo was at that point gasping for air. "I can carry this thing no further. I am exhausted. It is overpowering me."
I felt my eyes sting with hot tears of pity, but I remained silently in my place, knowing not what should be done. I knew it would be futile to offer to carry the Ring for him. Sam, however, thought of a feasible solution.
"It would do no good for me to carry the Ring for you, Mr. Frodo, though I would gladly do it. But it's your task, as you've said. Even if I can't carry it for you, I can carry you with it!"
"Samwise!" I exclaimed. "Do not oblige yourself to take on such a burden. Frodo has grown very slight throughout the journey, but you have as well. You'll have to take on Frodo's weight as well as the Ring's. It may, I fear, be too much for you. I am built slightly taller and stronger. Let me then take this task upon myself."
"No," Sam insisted firmly. "Mr. Frodo is my Master. It's me who ought to make sure that he don't get hurt. I will carry him up the mountain though it breaks my back."
"You have abundant courage, young Hobbit. Your loyalty to your Master is to be greatly admired. But for your own sake, I would ask you to let me take him."
Sam, however, was inexorable in this matter, and as he hoisted Frodo onto his back, I looked on him with the utmost admiration, and my desires to in any way aid this duo that I had come to love increased. As it was, I felt rather small and helpless as Sam thus carried Frodo up the sides of Mount Doom. At first, he did so with relative ease, but as hours progressed, and his body had time to grow tired from bearing the additional weight, his feet began to stumble. I insisted once more that he let me carry Frodo; once more, he refused, though still he faltered.
We followed the narrow, winding path up the steep sides of the mountain, wrapping around its northern edge so that, for a dreaded period, the Great Eye was in full view, though not on us. But shortly thereafter, we reached the end, the terrible heart of the fiery mountain, the end of our journeys. This place I would consider under any other circumstances the most wretched sight in Middle-earth, though at the moment I considered my eyes blessed that they should behold it. Soon hereafter, so I thought, I would be able to turn west, and behold again my City, for good or for evil.
Then we approached the Cracks of Doom, a mere hole as a speck in the vast wall of the mountainside. The path led into it and terminated abruptly on either side, forming a precarious promontory that dropped into the fiery sea of lava below.
"Sam," I heard Frodo say, "Let me down now. This is my own task, mine and no other's." Sam did as Frodo requested, and I stood back, still wishing that I could be of some help to Frodo, but I found consolation in the reassurance that all of his grief would soon be ended.
He walked to the very edge of the precipice, holding out the Ring as if to cast it away forever. He held it on level with his eyes and regarded it with a mixture of hatred and wonder, and something in his expression as he did so made him appear very lordly and powerful.
Turning then to us, he said, "I have come. But I do not choose now to do what I came to do. The Ring is mine!" And even as he resolutely moved to put it on his finger, Sam started to weep bitter tears of shock and anguish, trying to protest but perhaps thinking better than to reproach his Master. Contrarily, I was outraged. How could it be that Frodo, who had first convinced me of the necessity of this journey, and who had pledged to fulfill his mission or die trying, now refuted the very reason for which he came to this spot? I approached him in something akin to rage. Hot tears stung my eyes, and the steaming lava and smoke surrounding us were not their only cause.
"We have not journeyed through fire and shadow and ash in order for you to shirk your duty. And I will not allow you to do this!" My hand outstretched as I forcefully grabbed Frodo's right hand which still greedily clutched the Ring, but in the next moment, he seized the offending wrist, and I cried out in pain. I felt him drive me downwards, and I felt my head collide with some sort of hard rock. Though my eyes were close, I could feel my awareness slowly being blotted away, and I feebly attempted to cry out against the vice like grip about my neck. It became increasingly harder to breathe. Then, I had the sensation that I fell a long way, and after that, I was granted the relative bliss of knowing no more.