But it too, could enslave minds, eating away at your very soul, however, if the carrier had a strong will, the object could be restrained and used. Zasalamel knew this, as he looked down upon the three tiny beings, halfings the locals called them, two of them healthy and young, the other, a skinny depraved looking being. He knew this one by name, he called himself, Gollum, many times Zasalamel had spied on him, watching him as he talked overtly to himself, sometimes carrying on lengthy conversions, back when he had the Ring. Yes, The Ring, to gaze upon it was ecstasy, it would compel you to take it, to use it, to be it. But, Zasalamel laughed at it, not taken by its whim, the Ring grew enraged when he had first encountered it, its hold meaningless on his old mind. He had seen it when it was first forged, all those years ago, the Ring knew Zasalamel was strong, his soul nearly as hold as Sauron himself. Zasalamel brushed its advance off like the Ring were a mere thought. Zasalamel knew there would be a time when he would take the Ring, and place it in its rightful owner's hand. Now was that time.
As Samwise Gamgee walked, he was always looking over his back, watching to see if the creature Gollum would attack, waiting for his own chance to attack. He had taken his attention off those that watched them, those that sought them, those that would harm them. In the distance was the great city, Minis Morgal, once the sister city of Minis Tirith, now it was under the control of Mordor, its walls full of darkness, glowing with black energy, this was the layer of The Nine, Sauron's top warriors.
Sam looked on at Smeagol, he glared at him, wishing nothing more than to tie him up somewhere and leave him, or kill him, Sam felt no pity for this hunched remnant of a hobbit, as Frodo does. Frodo was to leaniant, allowing Smeagol to live, using the excuse of their need for a guide. He felt, he almost knew the diseased hobbit would turn on them, he was just waiting for the right time. His mistrust was not misplaced either, Smeagol often looked on at Sam when he didn't know it, feeling , if Sam were not there, he would have taken the Ring long ago.
They came to a wide and long bridge, two statues shapen into gargoyles guarded its entrance, and behind them, the gates of Minis Morgal. Its peaks were black, the greenish glow covering its high walls, the smell of decay and fire. "The dead city...very nasty place...- Smeagol spoke in a voice of hatred, he had been behind its walls, he had seen the atrocities held within, he knew it more as the city of torture. He darted his eyes at Sam-"...full of enemies." He finished as Sam lowered his head.
Frodo looked on at the city walls, dread filling all his senses, Sam behind him heard a noise, like laughter, coming from the peaks above. Smeagol heard the voice too, remembering it he yelled," The man, the dark man, he finally comes for the Ring! Master, we must hide, quickly!" But it was to late, standing at the base of the Winding Stare, was Zasalamel, clad in his white and green and golden robes, Kafziel at his side, he spoke," Gollum, the time is now, give the Ring to me." Smeagol began to choke, more so than he usually did, he cried out, grabbing at his throat, he fell back screaming.
Frodo screamed, "What are you doing to him! Stop!" Frodo ran to Smeagol's side, holding his head in his arms. Sam unsheathed his sword and leapt at Zasalamel, holding his sword in an offensive stance. Zasalamel turned his golden eye toward the charging Sam, using the pommel of Kafziel he stabbed down on Sam's stomach, then thrust it forward, crippling Sam, he fell screaming. Frodo cried,"NO!",he rushed toward Sam, tears in his eyes, seeing his best friend dying he tried to help him. Zasalamel grabbed his throat, lifting him into the air, the Ring dangling on a chain wrapped around his neck, Frodo kicked and screamed, his eyes still watching Sam laying on the ground in a pull of his own blood.
"They are truly fools, to give the Ring to such weaklings." Zasalamel said, he yanked the Ring from Frodo's neck, he felt its power, he sneered at it. He turned back to Frodo and said, "Little being, realize that you are nothing more than a helpless little worm, all that you have accomplished is for nothing, the Ring is going back to its master."
He was about to snap Frodo's neck when a deafening sound echoed off the cliff walls, the ground quaked, as the all the energy was sucked from the air and into the great pillar at the center of Minis Morgal, it swept up its sides like a whirl wind, it looked as if greenish blue fire had engulfed it. Zasalamel, taken by surprise by the explosive noise, dropped Frodo. He watched the pillar of energy ascend into the clouds, its light bright enough to light the surrounding canyon, it came to a sudden stop.
The sound of heavy beating wings could be heard, coming from within the city walls. A Fell beast rose up from behind the wall, atop its back was the Black Captain of Mordor himself, Sauron's deadliest warrior, it let out an ear piercing scream, Zasalamel fell to his knees, the pain coursing through his brain like knives, Frodo crawled away, holding his ears he fell into the ditch bordering the road. The screaming came to a stop, and Zasalamel looked up at the Witchking, he hated him, many times the Witchking had caused his plots to fail, even now he had. Zasalamel uttered a spell, his body began to sink into the ground.
Smeagol stopped choking and scrambled to his feet ,"Master! Where?" Smeagol looked for Frodo, fear coming over him as he began to realize Zasalamel had taken the Ring. He looked down and saw the chain that had held the Ring, laying on the ground, snapped, its silvery links torn and stained with blood. He screamed out in despair, knowing he would never reattain it, he fell to the ground weeping.
The mighty doors of Minis Morgal slowly opened, the steady beat of war drums now echoed through the canyon, as an army came marching out from within. Frodo lay in the ditch, blood seeping from the cut on the back of his neck, he slowly peaked over the road and saw Smeagol laying next to Sam's dead body crying. One of the soldiers from the marching army saw Smeagol and ran forward, and began to hack him to pieces, others began to scour the road, looking for any others.
Frodo rolled onto his back, wanting nothing more than to die, to not have to worry about rings, wars and pain. Then he remembered the dark man called Zasalamel, how their entire quest was brought to a sudden and almost demeaning end. How Zasalamel had told him how meaningless and powerless he was, how the Ring was going back to Sauron. He began to feel rage, he felt his heart beating faster as the hold on his body and mind by the Ring was relinquishing, he began to gain control again, he watched the army march by, instead of letting it all go he decided to avenge Sam and Smeagol's deaths. He felt his sword Sting glowing, he had a new mission, to kill Zasalamel.