Sam paced up and down, over and over again. He was so agitated that he hardly knew how he was managing to place one foot in front of the other. Walls, walls all around him, dirty stinking walls closing in on him, trapping him, forcing thoughts out of his head, making him come to a decision.

The monster had slunk away. In a fit of rage, grief and a hatred he never even knew he possessed, Sam had slain the creature which had killed his beloved. His eyes crept back to the silent, sleeping figure on the floor, the deathly still figure of his love.

His love.

His master. He who Sam had sworn to serve and never to leave.

And never to lose. Don't you lose him, Samwise Gamgee, the wizard had said, long, long ago at Bag End on the night before he and Frodo had slunk away like thieves in the night.

Alabaster skin, always so pale, had now taken on an even whiter tinge. Frodo lay there, unmoving, as beautiful in death as he had been in life. Sam looked at him, blinded by grief, knowing that nothing would ever be the same again. His world had collapsed, he felt as good as dead himself for his reason for living had ceased to be.

Sam couldn't bring himself to use the word "dead". It was unthinkable. Frodo wasn't dead, he was just sleeping. As long as Sam kept telling himself that he'd manage to keep himself alive. Sure in the knowledge that his master would wake up soon, probably not knowing where he was, and Sam would be there, as always, to take care of him.

Despair flooded through Sam's veins, coursing through him with a vengeance which was terrible, almost wicked, in its intrusion into his consciousness. Sam swallowed heavily. His throat hurt but he wasn't aware of it. No physical pain could trouble him now, so intense was the pain in his heart.

Frodo.

Sam knelt beside the silent figure, his head shaking slowly from side to side in denial. Denial of what he saw, what he knew, what he feared to believe.

Frodo was dead.

Sam's head dropped and rested on Frodo's unmoving chest. Sam's body was wracked with sobs as he knelt there, tremors tore through him again and again until his grief exhausted him. Laying his head on Frodo's body, Sam drifted into a world which was not quite sleep yet not a state of wakefulness. He forgot where he was, who he was, forgot everything except the enormity of the distress which had been thrust upon him.

Arising from his state of unearthly nightmare, Sam lifted his head. Pain overwhelmed him once more as the suddenness of his situation rushed back into his consciousness.

At last, drawing upon a strength which had helped see him and his master thorough many previous difficulties, Sam managed to gather himself together. "Mopin' around here won't do no good", he said aloud. His voice was shaking but it was as good as he could manage in the circumstances. "Must get Mr. Frodo to safety. Don't want them nasty orcs messing with him".

Sam leaned forward and, with the kind of gentleness which is borne out of only the deepest love, he lifted Frodo's body in his arms.

Before he had a chance to take even a single step, Sam received a sharp and painful reminder of his reason for being where he was.

The Ring.

Secure on its silver chain around Frodo's neck, the thing slipped out from behind Frodo's shirt and lay, gleaming gold and seemingly innocuous, against Frodo's deathly pale skin.

Sam stared at it, transfixed. He ought to have remembered it sooner. He'd lost track of time -had lost track of everything - had no idea of how long he'd been there with Frodo's body or how long before that they'd entered the wretched place.

The One Ring.

Sam lowered Frodo's body gently to the ground. In his grief, he'd quite forgotten about the Ring. It had ceased to exist, nothing had existed except his master's dead body and his own misery.

Cradling Frodo's inert body on his lap, Sam found the clasp and undid the chain. Holding it in his hand, he eyed the Ring sullenly, blaming it for the death of his Master. One thing was for sure, his master wasn't going to be burdened by it for any longer.

Sam stuffed the Ring and chain into his pocket. He lifted Frodo up again but then hesitated. The Ring, the Ring ..... they were supposed to destroy it. They were supposed to travel to Orodruin and hurl it into the fiery depths in which it had been forged many, many years ago.

Sam closed his weary eyes, eyes which ached through lack of sleep, eyes which ached with the hurt of staring at a vision which had only existed in his worst nightmares - the dead body of his beloved friend and master. Fresh tears filled Sam's eyes as he rested there, half sitting, half kneeling, with Frodo's precious body cradled against him. Blinded by grief, Sam kissed his master's forehead, feeling not warm, vibrant skin but skin which had been touched by death's icy fingers.

At that moment, amidst the tumult and wretchedness of Sam's inner thoughts, one voice rang out loud and clear:

Don't you lose him, Samwise Gamgee. Don't you lose him.

At that moment Sam made up his mind. Gandalf -dear, beloved, kindly Gandalf, of whom Sam was slightly afraid - had made him promise never to leave Frodo on the night they'd set out on their long, tortuous journey and Sam saw no reason to take a detour from that path now. Nothing would separate him from Frodo now, dead or alive, of that he was certain.

Laying Frodo gently down on the ground, Sam stood up. He looked all around him, trying to focus in the blackened gloom. A trail of filth and slime -still glistening - led off along a corridor, a place where the spider monster had limped after Sam had dealt it its fatal blow. Sam wondered whether the thing was now dead or still laying in agony, unable to move.

Pushing aside such thoughts as no longer relevant to his situation, he drew Sting from its scabbard and turned around to follow the trail of slime. He used Frodo's light - the gift he had received from Galadriel - to light his way. Fresh vigour flowed through him as he powered on, deeper and deeper, further and further, until he came to an abrupt and very steep drop.

He could not make out what was down there, for even the Phial of Galadriel would not cast a light so far a distance, but instinct told Sam that the spider monster lurked down there somewhere. Perhaps the thing had fallen, too crazed with pain to prepare itself for the steep drop.

Sam held the Ring in his hand for a moment and stared at it. He knew of the Ring's power. He'd seen Frodo's desire to keep it near him at all times and knew of the effect it had had upon Bilbo and Gollum. Sam turned it over in his hand once and then allowed it to drop into the blackness of the chasm.

He turned on his heels immediately and made his way back to the chamber where his master lie. Frodo was still there, unmoving, undisturbed, and Sam lost no time in gathering him into his arms.

"Right, it's time we got ourselves out of here", said Sam, once again speaking aloud. The reassuring sound of his own voice served to fortify him as he slowly began the long task of retracing the steps they had followed on their way into to this accursed, wretched place.

It was a long, bitter and painful journey for Sam.

Burdened with the dead weight of his master's body, every step he took was borne of a desire to ensure that his beloved master came to no more harm in death than he had in life. Sam held Frodo's body in his arms as he trudged one weary step after another. Feeling his way in the dark, hoping he had guessed correctly and, in a moment of panic and desperation, even wishing that the despised Gollum was there to act as his guide, Sam picked his way down the long, never-ending stairs until he arrived at the place where he and Frodo had rested a while before continuing on their journey.

The place where Frodo had slept with his head in Sam's lap.

Grief stung at Sam as he took a moment's rest. Misery wrapped its tortuous arms around him as he sat there, once again cradling Frodo in his arms but this time cradling a dead Frodo instead of a living, breathing Frodo.

It hurt Sam more than anything had hurt him before.

He forced himself to think ahead, to make plans. Somewhere, at the back of his mind, he had an idea of making his way back to Ithilien with Frodo and to find some nice little spot to finish off what he'd planned to do as soon as he'd realised that his very reason for living had ceased to be.

A distant but very ominous sound roused Sam into a state of tension. He strained his ears against the near-silence. Orcs. Sam knew that the sound, as yet, emanated from some way off - quite possibly from the chamber where he and Frodo had encountered the spider-monster - but he knew only too well how fast orcs could travel when they put their minds to it.

The thud-thud of their heavy-booted step was still some way off and, mercifully, was not growing louder. Sam held Frodo close against him, relieved beyond measure that he had not left him at their terrible mercy. He looked around for a hiding place, just in case the orcs decided to come this way. Sam was relieved he had left none of their belongings behind. He carried what was left of Frodo's pack, as well as his own, on his back and he was satisfied that they had left nothing whatsoever for the orcs. The orcs would never know they'd been there nor would they know of the place where Sam had disposed of the Ring.

The footsteps were receding, something at last for Sam to draw small comfort from. Satisfied that they had retreated, he stood up and made ready to resume his journey.

Sam didn't even consider food or drink as he trudged along. It was, perhaps, fortuitous that his mind did not think of such things. There was a reasonable amount of the food given to them by Faramir in the packs but of water there was perilously little.

Sooner than he had anticipated, Sam found himself at the dark crevice where they had rested and ate some food on their inward journey. For the first time in what seemed to be an eternity, Sam felt the wind on his face. He breathed deeply, relieved to be free at last from the dank, dark passageways which had robbed him of the love of his life.

Sam allowed himself a few moments rest as he sat there. Lowering Frodo's body gently to the ground, he unfastened the pack which contained most of the food. He took a few mouthfuls of his sparse water supply and then a slice of cold meat, some dried fruit and a small piece of lembas.

Darkness was falling rapidly and Sam knew that this was no place to linger, no matter how quiet it seemed for now. He re-fastened the packs and once again took Frodo's body into his arms. Tears pricked at his eyes but, with a supreme effort, he forced them back.

It was hard for Sam to fight off feelings of despair as he trudged his weary path. He knew that it was a long, long way back to Ithilien and that he'd need every ounce of his strength to make it there. But resourcefulness was one of Sam's greatest qualities and he'd make it somehow, of that he was sure.

Sam was in a state of extreme exhaustion when he reached the white bridge. He knew that even he, for all his physical strength and mental determination, would have to find some place to rest once he had safely crossed it. He drew his elven-cloak around him and pulled up his hood. The glaring tower had eyes on each of its evil faces and now would be no time to get caught.

Sam crossed the bridge and knew he could go no further. He hid himself and his master under an overhanging ledge and pulled both their cloaks over them. Clutching Frodo's body close against him, Sam quickly fell into a deep sleep.

---

It was dead of night when Sam heard the sound which very nearly caused his heart to stop.

"S...S...Saaaam".

Sam was immediately alert. It was with a mixture of disbelief, joy and incredulity that he gaped at Frodo's face.

"S...Sam".

There was no mistaking what he saw. Frodo's lips were moving, or at least trying to move. His eyelids were flickering too, as if he was trying to rouse himself from a sleep which had lasted a hundred years.

"Sam".

This time Frodo managed to form the word he needed to say, the first word which came to him as he began his slow return from the dead.

Sam, still cradling Frodo in his arms, looked at him with widening eyes. He laid his finger against Frodo's neck and, to his joy, found the faintest flutter of a pulse.

Frodo's lips were still trying to speak, still trying to form words which would not come. When he had spoken Sam's name it had been little more than a weak, ragged whisper. Sam rested his forehead against Frodo's and pulled him close. "Your Sam's here, Mr. Frodo. Your Sam's here. Everything's going to be alright, just you see".

A glimmer of a smile touched Frodo's parched lips.

Sam stroked Frodo's face with a gentle finger. His skin was not so cold now, nor quite so pale. "Mr. Frodo, can you open your eyes?" breathed Sam softly, his face only inches away from his master's. "Try and open your eyes, Mr. Frodo".

At last, Sam was rewarded.

Sam could not describe the feelings which leapt tall in his heart as he found himself gazing down into Frodo's drowsy eyes. The two of them gazed deeply into one another's souls; it was as though all the need and mutual dependence which had developed along their journey had deepened into feelings of such intense devotion that mere words were no longer necessary to describe them. Their love for each other was openly declared in those soft, velvety moments. Even the stars above twinkled brightly as if to express their approval.

Tears fell from Sam's eyes and onto Frodo's face as they lay there. Sam made no attempt to hide either his joy or his love, for he knew that it was no longer necessary. He entwined a finger in Frodo's dark curls with exquisite tenderness and then ran the same finger gently over the sweet miracle of Frodo's face, marvelling at the joy which filled his heart. He held in his arms everything which was precious to him, everything which he had ever cared for. His labours had brought him the greatest reward possible. Not only was Frodo alive but he also returned Sam's love.

Frodo, smiling, looked up at him with gentle eyes, eyes which expressed the joy he felt at being held in Sam's arms. Very slowly, Sam leaned forward and touched Frodo's lips with his own.

It was the softest, gentlest kiss imaginable. It was a kiss which, although soft as the touch of a butterfly's wing, expressed the immense depth of love which Frodo and Sam had never before dared to express. It was a kiss which contained a delicate promise of the love which was still to come.

A love which was as pure and sacred as time itself.

---

They remained thus, safe in the warm glow of their embrace. Sam took Frodo's cold hand in his and rubbed it gently. Frodo was still not fully recovered from his enforced slumber, Sam was quick to notice, and reviving him would be a top priority.

"My limbs feel so cold, Sam, so stiff", said Frodo. He held up his other hand which Sam quickly took between both of his. He rubbed Frodo's arms, legs and feet, desperate to give him back some feeling. Mercifully, Frodo was soon feeling much better and, although Sam would not yet let him stand, he was able to move and flex his arms and legs with relative ease.

Sam reached inside his pack for one of the few remaining water bottles. Frodo's lips were dry and parched, a state of affairs which Sam was anxious to remedy. He cradled Frodo with one arm and held the bottle to his lips with the other. Frodo managed to take a few mouthfuls of water and Sam urged him to take more - as much as he needed - being prepared to go without himself if necessary. Now was certainly not the time to remind Frodo of how short their water supply was.

Frodo took a few more mouthfuls and continued to lean against Sam. Sam wrapped his arms around Frodo protectively, feeling glad with every fibre of his being that he had not abandoned Frodo in the tower. His blood ran cold as he considered what might have happened to him had the orcs taken him prisoner and colder still as he imagined the terror Frodo would have experienced had he woken up in the midst of those vile and brutal aberrations of nature. It was best this way, Sam thought, and Frodo nestled closer to him.

"What happened to the Ring, Sam?"

Frodo lifted his head and looked inquisitively at Sam. It had not taken him long to realise the Ring's disappearance.

"I got rid of it", replied Sam simply. "We don't have to bother with it no more".

A wild look sprang up in Frodo's eyes but died away rapidly.

"Oh".

Frodo gazed at the darkened horizon and said nothing. A worried frown creased his brow.

"I threw it where no-one will ever find it", continued Sam. "That monster that hurt you, I stabbed it. I followed the trail it had left as it slunk away to die. I threw the Ring down where it had fallen, a chasm, like. No one'll ever find it. No one will ever go there".

Frodo looked troubled. "But it hasn't been destroyed, Sam. We were meant to destroy it. Mount Doom, that's where we were supposed to go, remember?"

Sam nodded. "But we aren't going there anymore", he said. "We can't go there now. We haven't got the Ring with us. The Ring has gone".

Frodo laid his hand gently upon Sam's. "Sam, I want you to tell me everything that happened in that tower. I need to know how I got here and what led up to it".

So Sam told him everything. How Frodo had turned his back on the spider monster and been stung in the neck by it, how the filthy monster had bound him in web spun as thick as rope, how Frodo had given every appearance of being dead. Then Sam told him how he'd remembered Gandalf's warning that he must never leave Frodo's side and how he'd decided that he had no choice but to relieve them both of the burden of the Ring. Finally Sam told Frodo of how he'd crept back through the dark tunnels and steep stairs until he'd eventually found his way out and across the white bridge to where they were now.

A plethora of feelings coursed through Frodo as he listened carefully to Sam. Deeply touched -although not surprised - by Sam's love and devotion, he still felt an ominous disquiet about the Ring. The realisation that he had failed as Ringbearer weighed heavily on him and the knowledge that the thing still existed and was laying virtually under Sauron's nose made him feel agitated and uneasy.

Sam sensed his disquiet; he knew Frodo took his duty seriously and that he would never have discarded the Ring had the choice been his.

"No-one knows we were there", he said, trying to calm Frodo's fears. "I made sure I left no trace of us behind".

He gestured towards the two packs.

"Oh dearest Sam, how you must have suffered", said Frodo. He took Sam's hand in his and holding it close to his face, kissed it several times.

"I don't care nothing about that", said Sam. "And I'm sorry about the Ring. It's just that ..... well, enough is enough, like, we've done the best we can with it. So we didn't get it to Mount Doom but who's to say we'd have got there anyway?"

Sam paused for a moment as tears filled his eyes. "I thought you was dead", he said, his voice wracked with taut, painful emotion. "And I didn't care about the Ring no more". Sam sobbed as he spoke. "All I wanted was to get you - your poor body - away so those wretched orcs couldn't get at you. I didn't want them hurting you, even though you was dead".

Sam's body shook with sobs. Frodo wrapped his arms around him and held him close. "Don't worry, Sam, I don't blame you", he said in a soft-reassuring voice. "It's done now, we've just got to make the best of it". Sam returned his embrace and the two of them held each other, invisible against the darkened terrain.

"But we've somehow got to get word of what has happened to the others", said Frodo, the burden of the Ring still very much evident upon his face. "Faramir will need to know. We've got to do something, Sam, we can't just sit back and do nothing. The Ring may have gone but it's still our responsibility".

Sam realised that Frodo spoke the truth. Both of them were deeply troubled as they held each other in the darkness and the matter of the Ring was still a burden they had to bear.

---

Back in Shelob's lair, Gollum was at work. He had witnessed the attack of Shelob upon Frodo and, unlike Sam, knew that Frodo was not dead but paralysed. He had seen Sam's display of grief and his subsequent indecision and had also seen him take the Ring from around Frodo's neck. Gollum had followed Sam, unseen by him, as he followed the trail left by Shelob after she had flung herself down into the pit of darkness in which she had been conceived. Maddened with pain and rage, she knew that her own death was only a matter of time.

Gollum's pale, lamp-like eyes had gleamed as he witnessed Sam casually throwing away the object which had been his sole desire for more than half a millennium. He'd scarcely been able to contain himself as he saw Sam retrace his steps back to the chamber where his lover slept. Gollum had witnessed the way they had looked at each other, the way they touched, on many occasions and had no doubt as to their true feelings. It had made him jealous for one brief moment but nothing could compare to the love and desire he felt for his Precious.

Once Sam's footsteps had died away Gollum lowered himself into the pit. He alone knew that there were many ropes by which an agile enough person could lower themselves into the pit. They were not, in fact, ropes, but web spun by Shelob over a period of many hundreds of years. Making careful use of the web-ropes, Gollum cunningly found his way to the bottom of the pit.

It didn't worry him in the least that it took him several days of groping in the stinking darkness to locate that which he desired. He was mad with delight when at last he found it, and he jumped up and down chanting "Sméagol's got the Precious, Sméagol's got the Precious" over and over again.

But, unbeknown to him, Shelob had not yet taken her last breath. Not quite. Had it not been for Gollum's groping around and his constant talking to himself she may have died in her sleep without another thought but she had been roused for one last time and she was angry. She saw the creature who had led many victims to her lair but did not recognise him. All she knew was that she resented his presence, his intrusion upon her quiet death-bed.

Gollum was holding the Ring close to his face as Shelob made out his dim presence in what was left of her eyes. He kissed it, he touched it, he licked it, he played with it. He slipped it on and off his finger, slipping in and out of invisibility.

It was when Gollum was holding it to his lips that Shelob attacked. With the very last breath of her body, she kicked out at Gollum with her powerful foreleg causing him to lurch forward and swallow the Ring in a single gulp. As he was choking and spluttering, Shelob's mighty foreleg crashed down from a great height and crushed him to death.

Gollum and Shelob both lay dead. The Ring was inside Gollum's stomach.

---

Frodo and Sam slept in each other's arms. Drowning in their love for one another, their joy at being able to sleep so closely entwined was immense. Sam was in a state of bliss as his arms encircled Frodo's precious warmth and he knew that from now on they'd always sleep together.

Some of their other dreams, however, were anything but comforting. Frodo was tormented with visions of Gandalf rising up out of the black pit of Moria. It was not the kindly Gandalf he knew and loved but a huge and terrifying figure who pointed his staff at him and accused him of allowing the whole of Middle-earth to fall into peril.

Sam's dreams were no less disturbing. He saw the Shire, blackened and ruined, over-run with orcs and uruk-hai, whipping and beating the terrified hobbit-folk into submission. Each and every one of his kinsmen turned accusing, angry eyes on Sam. It was clear, even in the swirling torment of his dream, that the Shire-folk held him responsible for their terrible fate.

Frodo and Sam had discussed their plans before falling into their uneasy sleep. They would try to make their way back to Ithilien, eking out their meagre food and water supplies in the hope that they would last until they found Faramir. They would tell Faramir what had happened and he would then no doubt call an emergency council meeting to discuss what could be done.

Beyond that, Frodo and Sam were unsure of their plans. They had no idea of what was taking place in the lands which lie between Ithilien and their home in the Shire. Frodo was reluctant to return to the Shire for the Nazgûl were well-acquainted with the names "Baggins" and "Shire" and it would only be a matter of time before they hunted him down again. The fact that he no longer had the Ring in his possession would make no difference; those terrifying black riders - slaves to the One Ring for as long as it existed - would not cease searching until they found it.

Frodo and Sam had talked about settling in Rivendell, but even if they were able to reach that beautiful haven of serenity in safety, for how long would they be able to remain there? For how long would anywhere be safe?

Sauron did not have the Ring but the Ring had not been destroyed.

---

As Frodo and Sam slept, Sauron's forces practiced their manoeuvres.

Frodo was dreaming. His earlier, disturbing dreams had given way to something far more pleasant. He dreamed he was laying in Sam's arms and he could feel the comforting warmth of the other hobbit all around him. Happiness enveloped him; he felt safe and secure. As he lay there, deep in sleep, he knew that whatever difficulties life threw at him he'd be able to cope so long as he and Sam were together.

Frodo stirred from his slumber and as he opened his eyes a sudden joy struck him. This was no dream; he was laying in Sam's arms for real. They were together, they were close and Frodo's happiness for that brief moment knew no limits.

But all too soon Frodo was jolted out of his reverie. Memories of recent events flooded into his consciousness with agonising, sharp-edged clarity. He remembered where they were and why they were there.

Frodo raised his head to look up at Sam. The other hobbit was still sleeping but it was not a peaceful sleep.

"No ... no ... please ...", moaned Sam in his sleep. "Don't hurt him ... please don't hurt him. Hurt me instead ..."

"Sam", whispered Frodo, shaking Sam gently. "Sam, wake up".

"No ... please ... please... ", said Sam, still held within the torment of his dream. "No ... no ... NO ..."

"Wake up, Sam", said Frodo, shaking him again. "Wake up. You're having a bad dream".

At last Sam opened his eyes, eyes which were brimming with the agony of a painful nightmare. Those eyes immediately filled with tears as they looked upon the concerned, dearly-loved face which gazed down at him.

"Frodo", murmured Sam, clutching his beloved against him. "My sweet, precious Frodo". Sam wept.

"It's alright, Sam", said Frodo soothingly, cradling Sam's head in his arms. "It's alright".

"I've had such a terrible dream", said Sam, his voice wracked with emotion. He continued to hold Frodo close.

"What was your dream about, Sam?" asked Frodo. "Tell me".

Pain was etched on Sam's face. He seemed reluctant to tell Frodo what had taken place within the confines of his nightmare.

"Tell me, Sam", encouraged Frodo. He squeezed Sam reassuringly. "A problem shared is a problem halved, remember".

"It was orcs. They were hurting you", said Sam, his lower lip trembling. "I dreamed I left you back in that place and they came and took you away".

"Sam, I'm here, I'm with you. No-one is hurting me", said Frodo, doing his best to comfort Sam.

Frodo partially withdrew Sting from its scabbard and Sam was relieved to see that there was no trace of blue on its blade.

"See, Sam, there are no orcs around. I'm safe, thanks to you. You brought me here, remember? You carried me all the way back from the spider's lair. It was just a dream you were having, Sam, just a dream".

Sam eventually managed a smile. Putting aside the memories of his dreadful nightmare as being nothing more than just that, he concentrated on the immeasurable joy of holding Frodo in his arms.

"You did the right thing, Sam", said Frodo. He propped himself up on one elbow and looked at Sam. "The Ring. You did the right thing".

"I've been so worried", confessed Sam, levering himself up. The two of them leaned against the wall of rock which had provided them with shelter for the night. Sam drew Frodo into his arms again. At that moment he couldn't bear not to hold him.

"You did the only thing possible", said Frodo. He hesitated for a moment. "That Ring has terrible powers. It was starting to affect me". Frodo stared at the ground and bit his lower lip.

"It would have taken me eventually. I could never have cast it into the flames of Mount Doom, even if we had made it that far".

Sam's eyes widened.

"And the Ring was getting heavier, Sam", Frodo continued. He spoke as though he had for a long time carried a terrible secret and was finally unburdening himself. "It felt so heavy around my neck, so strange".

Frodo fingered the place where the chain had once been.

"You did the right thing, Sam", he said again.

Sam continued to hold Frodo close. He was determined that nothing would ever separate them now.

"Well, it wouldn't have been your fault if the Ring had taken you", said Sam firmly. "If you ask me, they had no business expecting you to take it to Mordor in the first place".

Frodo managed a small, wry smile.

"I volunteered, Sam", he said. "At the Council of Elrond, remember?"

Frodo sighed.

"Ah, what I would give to be back in Rivendell now", he said, recollecting the waterfalls, the river and the blissful tranquillity of the place.

The two of them looked around at the harsh, dry landscape before them.

"Sam, we must make our way back to Ithilien and try to find Faramir", reminded Frodo. "That much is our duty".

Sam nodded in agreement.

"Are you going to be well enough to travel?" Sam asked, tenderness written all over his face. "After what happened to you ..... what that monster did to you ....."

"I'm quite well, Sam", said Frodo, smiling reassuringly. He touched Sam's face with a gentle finger. "Whatever that creature injected into me has worn off now and I am well rested. Of course, waking up in your arms was the best possible cure for me".

Sam gazed at him adoringly, his love for Frodo overwhelming him.

"In fact, I feel better than I have done for a long time", continued Frodo. He stood up and stretched his arms. "I feel as though I have been relieved of a terrible burden", he added. A pensive look shadowed his face. "The Ring, Sam, I'm sure it was sapping my strength. It was gradually weakening me. I'm not sure I could have gone much further with it".

Sam stood up, listening carefully to what Frodo was saying. After much doubt and many misgivings, he realised at last that he had indeed done the right thing by disposing of the Ring. It had been a source of misery and torment for his beloved and now they were well rid of it.

He and Frodo stood there, facing each other. "Are you sure you're alright, Sam?" Frodo asked anxiously. He touched Sam's face with his hand. "You carried me all the way here yesterday. You must have been exhausted by the time you got here".

Sam kissed Frodo's hand.

"Well, if seeing you alive and well doesn't fill me with strength, nothing will", he replied with a familiar cheery smile, a smile which was pure Samwise.

The two of them surveyed the drab landscape and then looked up at the sky.

"Well, I reckon it's well past midday", said Sam, noting the position of the sun. "We've had a good, long sleep and that should set us up well for our journey".

"And we must travel only by night", added Frodo. "We can't risk being seen".

Sam nodded in agreement.

"I suppose there's no way of knowing what might be after us", he conceded. A worried frown creased his brow.

"But we no longer carry anything of value, Sam", Frodo reminded him. "Even if we are caught by Sauron's minions he will not get his hands on the Ring".

Sam wrapped his arms protectively around Frodo. He had absolutely no intention of allowing his beloved to fall into the clutches of any of Sauron's creatures, even if he himself died protecting him.

---

Frodo and Sam spent the remainder of the day going through the contents of their packs. They ate a little of their food and drank some of their meagre water supply and, as darkness fell, they started off on their journey.

"What happened to Gollum?" Frodo asked as they walked along. "Did you see anything more of him?"

Sam shook his head. "No idea what happened to him", he replied. "He led us to that monster, though, I'm sure of it. Wouldn't be surprised if he'd planned all along to wait for the spider to attack us and then steal the Ring". Sam grimaced in distaste; he had always hated Gollum.

"We mustn't be too harsh in our judgement of him, Sam", said Frodo, smiling tolerantly at his companion. "He was very much in the power of the Ring, remember, so we should not be too quick to blame him for what he did. The Ring has terrible powers; it is impossible to resist it indefinitely. Gollum was exposed to it for far longer than either I or Bilbo was so it is hardly surprising that he acted as he did".

"Well, maybe", conceded Sam grudgingly. "But I still think he's a stinker and I'm glad we're rid of him now". He looked over his shoulder as if expecting to find Gollum creeping along behind them. There was no sign of anyone.

Frodo and Sam walked throughout the night, pausing only briefly on a couple of occasions to take some food and a few mouthfuls of water. They remained close together at all times. Sometimes they held hands and sometimes they walked with their arms around each other. At times they talked quietly but at others they were content simply to allow the cosy warmth of companionable silence to wrap itself around them.

As they walked along, their body language spoke clearly of the immense depth of love which existed between them. They had, after all, known each other for a long time and the traumas they had suffered on their long and eventful journey had given rise not only to a concentrated mutual dependence but also to an intense emotional bond; a bond which was so strong that it could never be broken. They belonged together; always had and always would.

When the first of the sun's rays appeared in the eastern sky Frodo and Sam knew it was time to search for a place to rest during the daylight hours. It was essential that they remained hidden from view; they were all too aware of the fact that only they knew of the Ring's whereabouts and if anything happened to them on their journey that knowledge would die with them. The consequences of that happening were not pleasant to contemplate.

Quite apart from that, Sam and Frodo had no desire to die. Their life together was just beginning and their newly-declared love for each other held the promise of a rosy future, a future which they both desperately wanted. And if they -or anyone else, for that matter - were to have any kind of a future the Ring would somehow have to be destroyed.

There was a proliferation of ferns in this area of Ithilien and before they had travelled much further Frodo and Sam found a large enough area of the plant under which to camouflage themselves safely. They crawled under the cool green canopy and gratefully set down their packs.

Sam drew one of the few remaining water bottles from his pack and offered it to Frodo first. They each drank a few mouthfuls.

"I hope we can find our way back to Henneth Annûn, Sam", said Frodo. "We were blindfolded when we left there and I am not entirely sure of the way back".

"Perhaps we'll get picked up by Faramir's men", suggested Sam. "They were kind to us and helped us last time".

"But they will almost certainly not be on the lookout for us", said Frodo. He pursed his lips. "They will not expect to see us back so soon", he added in a quieter voice.

A deep frown creased Frodo's brow as he sat there, gazing from their leafy shelter out onto the woodland beyond.

"I keep thinking about Merry and Pippin, Sam", he said solemnly. "I can't help but wonder what happened to them".

Frodo turned and looked at Sam.

"They sacrificed themselves for me, Sam", he said, his voice full of sorrow. "They distracted the orcs so that I could get away".

Tender concern spread across Sam's face. He knew that the unknown fate of Merry and Pippin weighed heavily on Frodo.

"Now, you don't want to be thinking the worst", said Sam in the best cheerful, 'no-nonsense' voice he could muster. He grasped Frodo's hand and squeezed it. "They'll be alright, I expect. They're a resourceful pair, them two".

Frodo smiled at him. "Dearest Sam", he said, squeezing Sam's hand back. "You always know how to cheer me up. Whatever would I do without you?"

"You won't have to", replied Sam firmly. "Do without me, that is. Not now, not ever". Sam edged closer to Frodo and slipped his arm around him.

"And anyway, what about the times you've cheered me up?" Sam asked, burying his face in Frodo's dark curls. He nuzzled Frodo's head tenderly.

"We help each other, Sam", said Frodo, rubbing his face against Sam's. "We are always there for each other, come what may".

They were silent for a moment, holding each other close under their leafy green ceiling.

"I hope we get back home", Sam said at last. "I hate the thought of never being able to see the Shire again".

"We shall go home, Sam dear, I'm sure of it", soothed Frodo, holding Sam close and doing his best to provide as much comfort and reassurance as he could. "One day, you and I will lay in each other's arms on the soft green grass of the Shire and speak of our love for one another. Is that not a dream worth clinging to?"

There were tears in Sam's eyes as he nodded in reply.

---

Later on, during the heat of the day, Sam and Frodo stirred from their slumber. Locked in each other's arms under the shelter of their ferny canopy, their whole world at that moment consisted of nothing but each other. They held each other tightly and pressed their bodies together as urgent, passionate need consumed them. A kiss, unsure and tentative at first, deepened quickly and as they tasted each other properly for the first time the intensity of their desire increased, filling them both with an aching, desperate longing for a closeness and an intimacy far greater than their fully-clothed state would allow.

But Frodo and Sam held back. They were all too aware that the land they travelled in was highly dangerous. They had had first hand experience of witnessing a battle between the Rangers of Ithilien and the forces of the enemy and they knew that the enemy's creatures could appear at any minute. To disrobe completely and abandon themselves to their desires - and thus deaden their senses against signs of potential danger -would be foolhardy.

Frodo and Sam knew that, for now at least, they would have to content themselves with their newly-discovered, searching kisses and with touching each other through the fabric of their clothes. Their hot, throbbing need for one another was readily apparent. Softly moaning each other's names, they stroked and rubbed each other until they gave each other the fulfilment they desperately craved.

Laying together as their wildly-beating hearts gradually slowed, Sam and Frodo's love had never been so great. Their yearning need for each other had been temporarily sated but their love for one another was so deep that this heated encounter had served only to increase their desire for each other rather than diminish it.

They were wrapped in each other's arms when they woke at dusk. Wonderment overwhelmed them as they gazed into each other's eyes and memories of their lovemaking surged through them.

"Was I dreaming, dearest Sam, or did we do something very interesting earlier on?" asked Frodo lazily. He reached up and stroked his fingers through Sam's thick hair.

"Well, er, we did do something", began Sam, rubbing his face tenderly against Frodo's. "But we did it with our clothes on, like".

They both laughed at the same time.

"Well, it's not as if we haven't seen each other naked", remarked Frodo, who had a mischievous twinkle in his eyes as he spoke. Sam looked thoughtful.

"No, but this time it'll be different, won't it?" he asked, wrapping his arms tightly around his beloved. "Seeing each other with no clothes on". His hazel eyes were filled with longing as he looked at Frodo.

Frodo gazed back at him, equally yearning. "Yes, Sam, it will be different", he agreed, kissing Sam on his lips. "Everything is different now".

A further chance to express their love came sooner than they expected. After travelling all through the night, they once again looked around for a place to rest and were fortunate enough to discover a small, secluded area well away from the main woodland track. They looked all around them before they deposited their packs on the ground and strained their eyes and ears for any trace of sight or sound which might threaten their safety.

Sting displayed no traces of blue as Frodo removed it from its scabbard, and although that gave them some reassurance they were well aware of the fact that it was not only orcs who were on the loose throughout this woodland.

"So beautiful, Sam", said Frodo, casting his eyes around the charming little spot which they had chosen for their day's resting place. The compact, grassy area was completely enclosed by trees and contained a small pool of bright, clear water fed by a spring which bubbled cheerily out of the ground above them and then cascaded in the form of a hazy, multi-coloured mini-waterfall into the little pool.

They stood there together, their arms around each other, satisfied that they would be out of harm's reach for that day at least. The sun had already broken and its warm golden rays danced merrily on the sparkling water.

"Yes, you are beautiful", breathed Sam, turning Frodo round to face him. Holding Frodo close against him, Sam touched Frodo's warm, soft mouth with his own, allowing his tongue to move gently between Frodo's lips and to explore the heavenly contours of his mouth.

Frodo gave a little gasp as Sam's mouth took possession of his. He returned Sam's kiss hungrily, allowing his body to mould itself against Sam's as desire flared hotly in each of them.

Frodo was aware of Sam's hands slipping his braces off his shoulders and almost immediately he began to clutch at Sam's clothes, desperate to remove the barrier which separated them. The yearning and the desire they felt for each other were building to fever pitch.

When their clothes were finally strewn they stood and looked at each other. For several long moments they each allowed their eyes to take in every detail of the other's body. There were tears in Sam's eyes as he took a painful note of Frodo's spare frame.

"What is it, Sam?" asked Frodo, taking Sam's face between his hands.

"You've lost so much weight", replied Sam, choking back his tears. He ran his hands gently over Frodo's narrow waist and hips.

"So have you, Sam dearest", said Frodo. Sam's once ample girth was now considerably reduced in size.

"But there's more of me than there is of you", concluded Sam, taking Frodo into his arms. He held him close, encircling Frodo's waist with one arm and tenderly cupping the back of his head with his free hand.

"Our long days of walking have made me lean and hard", responded Frodo. He pulled away slightly and looked into Sam's eyes.

"I'm fine, really I am", he insisted. "Would I have been able to cover the distances we travelled in the last two days if I had been weak or unwell? I am quite strong, believe me. And you know I would not lie to you, Sam". Sam knew this was true.

His eyes wandered to the white mark left by the Morgul-knife high up on the left side of Frodo's chest. He stroked it gently then leaned forward and kissed it.

"Does it hurt you?" he asked, his eyes alight with worry. He smoothed the wound with his thumb, wishing he could have suffered it instead of Frodo.

"It's just a little ache from time to time, that's all", responded Frodo, sliding the fingers of both his hands through Sam's hair. "I can live with it, Sam. It's nothing".

Frodo then took Sam's hand in his and pulled him towards the water.

"Come on, Sam, let us bathe together. The water looks so beautiful".

Sam followed Frodo, feeling as though he was in the middle of an enchanted dream.

The water was indeed beautiful. It was clear and inviting and within moments Sam and Frodo had slipped beneath the surface and were enjoying its invigorating warmth. They held each other close as they moved further into the pool, allowing the water to lap around them at chest level. Time stood still for them as they gazed deeply into each other's eyes. It was a moment which transcended time and space; a moment which allowed each of them to plainly see - and marvel at - the sheer beauty of the unique and precious love which bound them together.

Their two hearts beat as one as their bodies entwined under the warm, sparkling water. Cares and worries were temporarily washed away as they touched and explored each other and allowed their bodies to express the love which had reached a crescendo of yearning, throbbing desire. Again and again they called the other's name, gasping and thrilling to the new sensations which so excited and overwhelmed them that at times they each came close to losing consciousness.

It had been a long, long time since Frodo and Sam had been as happy as this.

When at last they emerged from the water they laid themselves down on the soft grass, enjoying the feel of the warm sunshine on their glistening bodies. They made no attempt to get dressed for they were comfortable with their nakedness and utterly at peace with each other.

Sam watched with undisguised adoration as Frodo laid back and arched his body to the sun. He was beginning to realise that there was a deeply sensual side to Frodo's nature, a side which had hitherto remained locked away in some unreachable chamber deep inside him. Only Sam held the key to the inner sanctum which contained Frodo's sensuality and passion; only Sam had ever been able to reach that hidden part of him.

"Let me rub your shoulders, Sam", said Frodo suddenly. He moved around and placed his hands on Sam's strong, well-muscled shoulders.

"You must be so tired, dearest Sam", said Frodo, his voice a soft whisper in Sam's ear. "You carried me for such a long way. It must have been such a strain on your poor back".

Sam tingled to the feel of Frodo's long fingers -gentle yet surprisingly strong - as they massaged his back and shoulders.

"How does that feel?" asked Frodo, kneading away gently. "Beloved Sam. If it hadn't been for you I'd probably be dead by now".

It was all too much for Sam. His senses and his emotions had been raised to levels he had never even realised existed during the course of this beautiful day. A reminder of the fate which could have befallen his beloved had he not carried him to safety provoked an outpouring of the most intense feelings he had ever known.

Sam's body was shaking with sobs as he pulled Frodo onto his lap and enveloped him in a warm circle of love. Frodo was more precious to him than all the riches the world had to offer.

"I love the very bones of you", he said, choking on his tears. Sam gently laid Frodo down on the grass and cradled him in his arms.

"For how long have you loved me, dearest Sam?" asked Frodo, gazing up into Sam's eyes. His eyes, like Sam's, were filled with tears. He reached up and entwined his fingers in Sam's thick sandy curls.

Sam gazed down at him. "Since always", he replied, his tears falling onto Frodo's face. "I've always loved you".

"And I have always loved you, my own Sam", replied Frodo, making Sam's heart leap with joy. "I cannot remember a time when I did not love you".

Sam smothered Frodo's beloved face with soft, tender kisses.

"I want to give love to every precious little bit of you", he said, his voice ragged with emotion.

"I shan't stop you, Sam", responded Frodo, his tear-filled eyes revealing to Sam just how much he needed Sam's love.

Bathed in the warmth of the afternoon sun, the two hobbits made love to each other here in their own secret corner of Ithilien, spilling some of their seed onto the soft green grass of that fair land. Far from their home in the Shire they might be, yet they had discovered something of great importance during the course of this rare, beautiful and perfect day.

Wherever they found themselves would be home to them, as long as they were in each other's arms.

---

"There are few days in life, Sam, which are truly perfect, but I believe that today was one of them. Today was given to us as a gift".

It was approaching dusk and although Frodo and Sam desperately longed to continue their love-making, they knew they could linger for no longer. They were aware that they had a duty to fulfil and were dressed and ready to resume the journey which they hoped would take them back to Henneth Annûn. They had had no sleep but their thoughts of the earth-shattering experiences they had shared would provide them with all the determination they needed to face another night of walking.

Sam's eyes reflected the joy of the love they had shared that day, a joy which was so intense in its completeness that it was almost unbearable.

"It was the happiest day of my life", Sam said quietly. Tears were forming in his eyes.

"Mine too", added Frodo. He stroked Sam's tears away with a gentle finger.

"We will have other days like this, beloved Sam", Frodo said. "But perhaps not for a while. Come, let us bid farewell to this enchanted piece of land. It is time for us to leave it behind".

Hand in hand, they set off.

It was dark as Sam and Frodo made their way along the roughly-hewn woodland path. Dark outside, maybe, but in their hearts they could think of nothing but the wonder and the joy of the love they shared. They glanced at each other often as they walked along. Unwilling to be separated, their hands were clasped, enabling each of them to draw comfort from the warmth of the other's touch.

Their bodies tingled from the experience of expressing their love physically for the first time. They had discovered each other in the most intimate way possible and their love-making had been both tender and passionate. They cared for one another with a depth and sincerity which had its roots in long-term friendship and companionship but which, throughout their perilous journey at each other's sides, had deepened into everlasting love.

But now the time had come to put aside such thoughts as Frodo and Sam had a task to complete. Headed towards Henneth Annûn under cover of night's darkness, their one wish right now was to find Faramir and regale him of what had taken place since they had last seen him.

Frodo did not relish the prospect of telling Faramir of the loss of the Ring. He was unsure of how the tall Man of Gondor would react to such news. The only thing he knew for sure was that he and Sam would have to provide Faramir with as much co-operation as possible if the Gondorian decided to launch a mission for the recovery of the Ring.

It was whilst Frodo was deep in contemplation of the possible ways of doing this that Sam turned to face him.

"Did you hear that?" he whispered, pulling Frodo close. Frodo strained his ears. All he could hear were the eerie collective mutterings of night creatures as they went about their business in the forest.

Moments later they were both stung into a state of vigilance as an arrow whistled past them -narrowly missing Frodo's arm - and embedded itself in a nearby tree. Fear and alarm rose in them when they noticed that the arrow's feathers were not of the green favoured by the Rangers of Ithilien but red. Sam and Frodo drew their swords instantaneously. Sting bore no trace of blue but they still had every reason to be startled.

Straining their eyes against the darkening blanket of the forest, Frodo and Sam looked all around them for a trace of their attacker. Silence spread its ugly black wings all around them; even the night birds had stopped their chattering.

Before either of them had a chance to react, they were each grasped roughly from behind by a very large hand. Finding themselves lifted into the air by the hoods of their cloaks, Frodo and Sam attempted to twist themselves round so they could face their attacker and do some damage with their swords.

After much thrashing around, Frodo jabbed Sting into the wrist of his attacker. Blood spurted from the wound and the large person howled with pain. Clutching at his injured wrist, he let go of both hobbits and they fell to the ground.

They lost no time in trying to put distance between themselves and their attacker. It was not until then that they realised how incredibly tall he was - taller even than Aragorn or Faramir. Although they could not see his face, for he was wearing a helm, Frodo and Sam could see that the man was adorned with garish war paint. The red eye of Sauron was branded on his upper arm.

Clutching at each other with wildly beating hearts, Sam and Frodo moved away from the man who had attacked them. They were about to turn around and make a run for it when two more arrows flew past them.

Before they had a chance to register what was happening, two cloaked figures emerged from the trees and grasped the first man by the arms. Relief flooded through the hobbits as they noticed the brown and green clothing of the second two figures, identifying them unmistakeably as Rangers of Ithilien.

The Rangers saw Frodo and Sam immediately. The hobbits' sense of relief grew stronger as they recognised the Rangers as Mablung and Damrod,

Keeping a tight hold of their wounded but struggling captive, Mablung and Damrod peered closely at the hobbits as if wishing to assure themselves of their identity.

"Greetings, Rangers of Ithilien", said Frodo. "We offer our thanks to you".

"Greetings, Halflings of the Shire", responded Damrod. He looked vaguely suspicious. "We meet again".

"Indeed we do", agreed Frodo. "Although perhaps a little sooner than I anticipated". He hesitated for a moment. "My companion and I have urgent business which we wish to discuss with the Lord Faramir. Does he remain at Henneth Annûn or has he already returned to Minas Tirith?" Mablung and Damrod looked at each other.

"He has not yet departed for Minas Tirith", replied Mablung hesitantly. "But his departure is imminent. If you wish to speak with him I suggest you accompany us as we take this prisoner back to our fort".

Frodo and Sam needed no second invitation. They waited whilst Mablung and Damrod bound their captive's arms behind him and blindfolded him and then proceeded to follow in their footsteps.

It was a long and tiring walk which eventually brought Sam and Frodo back to the Rangers' secret hideout at Henneth Annûn. They had struggled to keep up with the fast, lengthy pace of the tall men and Mablung and Damrod, as on the previous occasion they had met, seemed reluctant to engage in conversation.

Sam and Frodo were relieved when at last they came upon the Forbidden Pool. Mablung and Damrod marched their prisoner round to the rear of the ancient edifice, and bid Frodo and Sam to wait where they were.

Faramir quickly rushed out to greet them.

"Dear hobbits, this is a most unexpected surprise. Pray, come within and tell me what brings you back to these parts so soon after our last meeting. I hope you do not bring bad tidings".

"Our news is not good", responded Frodo. A frown creased Faramir's forehead.

"Then come inside now. Take some refreshment and then reveal to me the reason why you have returned".

"We no longer bear the Ring", said Frodo immediately. He studied Faramir's reaction apprehensively. The Gondorian's face bore no trace of annoyance or resentment.

"Then we have much to discuss", Faramir said, taking a deep breath. "I take it you know the whereabouts of the Ring?" Frodo nodded.

Sam stepped forward and addressed Faramir.

"It was me who lost it. I threw it away", he declared stoutly. Frodo glanced at him. He knew that Sam was still troubled by what he had done with the Ring and, as their eyes met, he offered Sam as much reassurance as he could. He longed to give Sam some display of physical comfort but refrained from doing so in the presence of Faramir.

"There is a tale to tell of the Ring", said Frodo, measuring his words carefully. "All is not yet lost". Faramir watched them carefully, his eyes darting back and forth from Sam to Frodo.

"Come inside", he said, turning on his heels. The hobbits followed him. The interior of the building was much as it had been before.

"This is indeed a serious matter", said Faramir, once they were inside. "And I confess that this news which you bring is not something I expected to hear". He glanced at Sam as he spoke.

"If what you say is true, then an alternative plan must be considered". Frodo nodded gravely.

"Dawn is only a few hours away", Faramir announced, glancing through the open door at the night sky. "I suggest that you get some rest. A council will be convened here early tomorrow morning".

Faramir looked at the hobbits, his eyes taking in their exhausted, worried demeanour.

"Frodo", he began. "I can see that both you and Master Samwise are deeply troubled and that you have endured much to return here. From what I learned of you and your companion at our last meeting, I do not for one moment believe you would deliberately jeopardise the safety of Middle-earth". He paused for a moment. "But for now you must rest. Your tale will, I am sure, wait a few hours".

Frodo and Sam listened to him gratefully. Frodo was relieved to hear Faramir's words; they at least brought some small comfort.

"Please help yourselves to food from the table", said Faramir, gesturing towards a long table at the side of the chamber. "And then rest. The beds you occupied on your previous visit are available to you. Now, if you will excuse me, I wish to go and question our prisoner".

Faramir bowed low to them and then strode off.

As soon as they were alone together, Frodo and Sam fell into an embrace. The love they shared, so special and so sacred, pulled them together like an invisible magnet. They held each other close for several long moments.

"Best get something to eat", said Sam, reluctantly taking his arms from around Frodo. He and Frodo took some of the food from the table and immediately retreated behind the curtain at the rear of the chamber. They clambered onto one of the beds.

"Try and eat something, my love", said Sam encouragingly, noting that Frodo seemed distracted. He squeezed Frodo's hand lovingly. Frodo gazed at him fondly, knowing that Sam was deeply concerned about the fragile state of his body even though he had protested there was nothing wrong with him. His earlier hunger had passed but he ate as much as his shrunken stomach would allow if only to please his beloved Sam. Both hobbits were grateful for the chance to drink fresh water.

When they had finished they lay down together and pulled the soft pelts and blankets over them. Sam immediately wrapped his arms around Frodo and the two of them snuggled close together, drowning in the tender warmth of their love. They allowed their lips to touch but did not permit the kiss to deepen. Now was not the time for greater intimacy; the level of privacy afforded by the curtain was not sufficient and, in any event, they were both exhausted from their long and arduous march.

Safe in each other's arms, and luxuriating in the comfort and warmth of a soft bed instead of hard ground, Sam and Frodo drifted into a deep sleep.

Frodo awoke a few hours later and panic gripped him as soon as he opened his eyes. He had forgotten where they were. But that feeling slipped away as soon as he felt the loving warmth of Sam's arms around him. Sam was gazing down at him and the deep, unconditional love which shone in his eyes filled Frodo's heart with joy. There was so much to be grateful for; they had reached Henneth Annûn safely, Faramir was still there and, above all, they had each other to cling to.

They threw the covers off the bed and climbed off it. Although it was painful to tear themselves out of their embrace, they knew that they had business to attend to and neither of them wished Faramir to walk in and see them wrapped in each other's arms.

There were already several men at work in the main chamber when they emerged. Faramir moved amongst them as they busied themselves arranging rows of chairs. He was as gracious as ever when he greeted the hobbits.

"Ah, Frodo and Samwise, I trust you slept well. This chamber, as you can see, is being made ready for our council".

Faramir moved across to them and drew them to one side.

"I have been deep in thought since our words of last night", he began, crouching so as to bring him down to the level of the hobbits. "I believe a full and frank discussion is needed if we are to stand any chance of retrieving this situation". His grey eyes were grave and concerned as he looked at them. "Frodo, I wish you to address this council and regale my men of everything that has happened. You have my personal assurance that they can all be trusted". Frodo nodded briefly.

"I think it would be wise if you told the tale of the Ring from when it came into your possession. Everything must be told, leave out no detail, however irrelevant it may seem".

"Very well", agreed Frodo. He and Sam glanced at each other.

The mood was sombre as the chamber began to fill. One by one, the Rangers of Ithilien filed in and took their seats. Sam and Frodo immediately recognised Anborn, Mablung and Damrod and there were quite a few others whose faces were familiar to them. There was one man, however, who they did not recognise. He stood aloof at the front of the chamber, apart from the other men, giving the impression that he resented being there. His eyes were cold and contemptuous as they rested upon Frodo and Sam.

Faramir took a seat at the trestle which had been positioned at the front of the room and gestured to Frodo and Sam to join him. Frodo asked Faramir who the cold-eyed man was.

"His name is Rombard", replied Faramir. "A Captain of Gondor. He has only recently joined us from Minas Tirith. The news he brought with him about the city was not good. Soon it is likely to be under siege".

At last everyone was seated and Sam counted fourteen men in addition to Faramir. There were fewer men present than there were last time and Sam presumed that some of them had already travelled to Minas Tirith to help defend their city against whatever onslaught had been mounted against it.

"Gentlemen, please listen carefully", began Faramir, rising to his feet. "The matter which we are to discuss is of the utmost importance. I state from the outset that the very existence of Middle-earth is in peril. Hear my words and understand them. They will not be repeated. Do not take them lightly and do not seek to minimise what you are about to hear for your lives - and the lives of all those whom you hold dear - may depend upon it.

"Sitting at my side are two Hobbits of the Shire, Master Frodo Baggins and Master Samwise Gamgee. Some of you have already had the pleasure of making their acquaintance, some have not. They have a tale to tell. A very interesting one. Listen carefully and believe everything you hear". Faramir gestured towards Frodo, who rose to his feet and moved around to the front of the table so as to address the Rangers.

"Gentlemen, I greet you and offer you thanks for the welcome hospitality you have afforded myself and my companion. I will begin the tale from the beginning, as requested earlier by Lord Faramir".

Frodo stood there before the assembled company of Rangers and told of how he had inherited a ring from his Uncle Bilbo upon his coming-of-age and how, years later, the wizard Gandalf had discovered it to be the One Ring forged by none other than the Dark Lord Sauron. He told of how he and his companions had fled the Shire and how he had been forced to adopt an assumed name. He then went on to tell them of their meeting with the man who was later revealed to them as Aragorn son of Arathorn, heir to the throne of Gondor.

There was a noticeable heightening of attention amongst the Rangers as Aragorn's name was mentioned.

Frodo continued with his story, telling the Rangers of how Aragorn had led him and his friends to Weathertop and the near-fatal wound he had received there at the hands of one of the nine pursuing Nazgûl.

"How do we know this is true?" It was Rombard who asked the question and he was on his feet.

"Did I not make it clear at the outset of this meeting that you were to believe everything you heard?" responded Faramir. His voice was edged with annoyance as he addressed Rombard and Frodo and Sam were both left with the distinct impression that Faramir had little liking for the other man.

"Captain Rombard, perhaps I could offer you some proof of that which you so clearly doubt", said Frodo. He undid the top button of his shirt and pulled the garment to one side. "This is the scar left by the Morgul-blade. As I am sure you will agree, it is quite unlike any other scar you have seen".

Rombard peered closely at the scar and sat down without saying a word.

"Indeed", continued Frodo, re-fastening his shirt. "Had it not been for the healing power of the elves that wound would have cost me my life".

As Frodo told the tale of his flight to the Ford on the back of Glorfindel's horse, Asfaloth, and his subsequent healing and recovery at the hands of Lord Elrond, Sam noticed - with pride - how the Rangers appeared to regard Frodo with a new-found respect.

Frodo then told them of the Council of Elrond and of the important decision which was made there. Once again Rombard sprang to his feet.

"Am I the only one present who can see that the very idea of expecting these two hobbits to reach Mordor alone was sheer lunacy?" Rombard's voice was cold and hard and he spat out the work 'hobbits' with as much contempt as he could muster. The other men remained silent.

"Perhaps, Sir, you did not hear me clearly", said Frodo politely. Sam stifled a small giggle by placing his hand over his mouth.

"There were nine of us when we set out. It was never our intention to travel to Mordor alone. The breaking of the Fellowship was an unforeseen event".

"Indeed it was". It was Faramir's voice, unmistakeably edged with sorrow, which rang out. Frodo glanced at him, knowing that the untimely death of his brother Boromir pained him greatly.

"Frodo, please tell the Council how my brother died. Spare no detail".

The assembled Rangers seemed shocked when they heard of how Boromir had tried to take the Ring from Frodo. They also learned how he had met his death, why it had happened and the subsequent repercussions. A taut silence fell upon the chamber.

After some moments Frodo continued. He told of how he and Sam had made their way by boat across the Great River and how they had managed to acquire the services of Gollum.

"He acted as our guide", said Frodo simply. "Without him we would never have found our way to the pass of Cirith Ungol".

There were some sharp intakes of breath as Frodo uttered this name.

He continued with the long and wearisome journey he and Sam, led by Gollum, had made up the many stairs which eventually led them to the lair of the monstrous spider.

"So the legend is true", said Faramir, his face white with shock. "This creature does exist".

"Indeed it does, Lord Faramir", said Frodo. "It dealt me what my companion believed was a lethal sting".

He looked at Sam.

"Gentlemen, I believe my friend ought now to continue the tale". Sam looked alarmed at the prospect of standing up and addressing such a large gathering but Frodo's encouraging smile gave him the reassurance he needed.

"Well now", Sam began, taking a deep breath. "It looked to me as though Mr. Frodo was dead. The monster had stung him when he wasn't looking, like, and it had bound him in web so thick that it was like rope".

The men looked horrified as they listened to Sam.

"I can't remember how long it was before I made a move", continued Sam. "It might have been ten minutes or it might have been ten hours". He looked down at his hands and then glanced sideways at Frodo.

"I was blinded by grief". Sam paused for a moment, his face cast downwards as he fought back the tears which had formed in his eyes as unwelcome memories of those horrific moments surged through him.

Frodo watched him tenderly. He longed to reach out to Sam and take him in his arms but knew that such a move was out of the question whilst they stood in full view of everyone.

Sam continued bravely.

"It was then that I stabbed the monster".

There were gasps of amazement all around the room.

"You slew this creature, Master Gamgee? Alone?" Faramir looked as though he could not believe his ears.

"Well, there weren't no-one else present", said Sam in a matter-of-fact tone. "I had so much rage that I just lashed out at it. I think my sword got its eyes. Then it limped off, leaving a trail of slime in its wake".

"Is it dead?" asked Anborn, speaking for the first time.

"Yes, it's dead", replied Sam. He then told the company of how, seeing no alternative, he had taken the Ring from around Frodo's neck and dropped it into the pit where the monster had fallen in its death throes.

"And then, presumably, you carried your master's body - at least what you thought at the time was his dead body - back along the path through which you had entered the Pass", said Faramir, and Frodo noted the compassion in his eyes as he looked at Sam.

"That's right", said Sam. "And then later on he woke up".

Frodo's hand, unseen by the men, brushed lovingly against Sam's as he sat down.

"So, gentlemen", said Frodo, taking up the story. "The Ring lies in a pit beneath the pass of Cirith Ungol. I have, sadly, failed in my task as Ringbearer. The Ring is undestroyed and it remains perilously close to Sauron".

Frodo sat down and surveyed the taut, grey faces of the men in the chamber. He exchanged glances with Sam and then looked at Faramir. The tall Gondorian remained silent for a few moments before rising to his feet.

"So you see, gentlemen, we have a problem. A problem which will not recede and one which, I believe, has fallen to us to remedy".

Rombard stood up. His face wore its usual contemptuous expression.

"So the Ringbearer's mission has failed", he said. "That is hardly surprising. One could hardly expect this servant" - he made an impatient gesture towards Sam as he spoke - "to have the intelligence to think of an alternative plan of action".

Frodo sprang to his feet.

"Do not speak disparagingly of my friend", he said, his voice low with suppressed anger. "For it would seem that he is endowed with considerably more in the way of intelligence, Sir, than you are in grace".

A ripple of barely-suppressed laughter passed over the chamber. Sam noticed that even Faramir's grave face bore the traces of a smile.

"Were it not for the intelligence and the courage of my companion, I would certainly not be here addressing you at this moment", continued Frodo, focussing his stormy eyes upon Rombard. Sam had never seen Frodo so angry.

"What do you suggest he should have done, Sir, carry the Ring to Mount Doom alone? Have you heard any of my story? Have you learned that this Ring has mysterious powers?"

Rombard was silent. Frodo stood before him, half his size, yet it was Rombard who, at that moment, seemed the smaller of the two.

"If you wish to point the finger of blame at someone, I suggest you point it at me", said Frodo, still staring at man who had spoken so unkindly of his beloved Sam. "It was I who turned my back on the spider and thus allowed it to attack". Frodo remained silent for a moment, deep in thought.

"Of course", he continued quietly, "One is apt to lose one's concentration from time to time when one is weak and weary through long toil and lack of food".

Rombard's face was red as he sat down. Frodo's quiet dignity, coupled with the complete lack of self-pity in his words, won him immense respect from every single Ranger in the room. The men remained silent for a few moments, each of them contemplating what they had heard in their own way.

"It is clear, gentlemen, that these hobbits have suffered enough", said Faramir. "They are worn and weary. They have displayed enormous fortitude in bearing the Ring from their home far away in the Shire to the very gates of Mordor and they can be expected to play no further part in its story".

All the men present, except Rombard, nodded or muttered in agreement.

"I put it to you, gentlemen, that our company of proud Rangers must march into Mordor. We must take the Ring to Mount Doom and complete the task which the Company of Nine originally set out to do". Faramir surveyed his men. "Do I hear any dissent?" he asked.

"This creature ..... this spider monster", began Rombard, rising to its feet. "It is definitely dead, I take it?"

"Oh, it is indeed dead, Sir", responded Frodo. "Thanks to the immense bravery of my friend Master Gamgee, there is absolutely nothing for you to be afraid of".

Rombard's humiliation was complete. He took to his seat amidst a chorus of barely-suppressed derisive laughter and remained silent for the remainder of the meeting.

"I propose that our entire company marches to the pass of Cirith Ungol", said Faramir, once the laughter had died down. His eyes were bright as he spoke. "We will disguise ourselves as soldiers of the enemy. We have slain many of their number and can lay our hands upon as much of their clothing and helms as we need".

"Lord Faramir, the fellow your men captured last night may prove useful in this exercise", ventured Frodo, who had listened carefully to Faramir's plans. "He may well be able to help you find a safe route through the pass and, if you are able to locate the Ring, thereafter through Mordor and onwards to Mount Doom".

"A splendid idea, Master Baggins", said Faramir, his eyes blazing. "I have already questioned this man, or, at least, exchanged a few rudimentary words with him. He and his kind have no loyalty to the Dark Lord. They were brought into his service by force and brutality. He will be of great assistance to us, I am sure".

"Then perhaps he might be offered safe passage back to his own land in the event of the mission being successfully accomplished", suggested Frodo.

"Agreed", said Faramir.

"Gentlemen, we have work to do. Our task is clear. We shall march to the pass of Cirith Ungol in the guise of soldiers of the Dark Lord. We will make every attempt to locate the Ring and thereafter cast it into the flames of Orodruin or we will die in the process".

Faramir took a long, deep breath as he cast his eyes over the men he trusted, men who he knew might never return from this mission.

"The Ring, presuming it is found, will remain in the hands of each of you for no longer than one day at a time. At dawn each day it will pass to a new bearer. You shall each in turn be bearers of the One Ring. Be mindful of your responsibilities, gentlemen, Middle-earth depends upon you".

"Do not look at it and do not touch it", warned Frodo, his face grave. "Wrap it in a cloth and conceal it about your person without allowing it to come into contact with your skin".

"May I ask, Master Baggins, how long you possessed the Ring before it was lost?" enquired Mablung.

"The Ring was in my possession for seventeen years before I set out on my journey", replied Frodo. "It remained in my home throughout that period. It was not until I commenced this journey that I came into constant close contact with it. It was against my skin, reminding me of its presence and working its spell on me. Had I borne the Ring for much longer it would have surely consumed me".

The men were visibly shocked at Frodo's words. One or two of them shivered apprehensively.

"Take heed of Master Baggins' words, gentlemen", advised Faramir, his face solemn. "For he knows of what he speaks. Gentlemen, the fate of Middle-earth rests upon our shoulders. If legend is to be believed, the blood of Men failed many years ago when Isildur stood at the Cracks of Doom and failed to destroy the Ring. He had his chance to destroy evil once and for all but failed to do so. Our blood must not fail. Our world depends upon us. We must see it done".

There was a hushed silence as Faramir finished speaking. He then dismissed his men and then asked Frodo and Sam to join him by the Forbidden Pool.

"I shall take the Ring last of all", explained Faramir as he, Sam and Frodo walked around the beautiful Pool. "I shall bear the responsibility of casting it into the flames of Mount Doom for that is not a task which I can order any of my men to undertake. Anborn will accompany me to the Cracks", he continued, his face a mask of iron resolution. "He will be ordered to kill me should I display the same weakness as Isildur. The Ring must be destroyed at all costs".

Sam and Frodo's expressions were grave as they listened to Faramir.

"Begging your pardon, Sir, but what about Frodo and me? Are we to remain here?" asked Sam.

"No, Master Gamgee, that would not be safe", replied Faramir. "This place could be over-run by the enemy's forces at any time. I have it in mind to transport the two of you to Minis Tirith. One of my men will accompany you".

"No, Sir, that will not be necessary", insisted Frodo. "Sam and I will find our own way there".

"I will not hear of the two of you travelling alone", said Faramir. "You have already faced much peril. I can spare one man to take you to Minas Tirith although I regret that I cannot vouch for what you may find once you get there not can I guarantee that your journey there will be free from incident".

"We will take our chances", said Frodo. "And we offer you our thanks for the courtesy and protection you have made available to us".

"Lord Faramir, I believe the plan you have devised is the best that can be achieved in the circumstances", said Frodo. A shadow crossed his face as he spoke. "But I confess that the words spoken to me by the Lady Galadriel weigh heavily upon my mind". Frodo took a deep breath and looked at Sam, who knew of the words he spoke.

"When I met her in the woods of Lothlorien, she told me that if I did not find a way of destroying the Ring, no-one would".

Faramir's clear grey eyes were alert as he listened. He crouched down to the hobbits' level.

"Frodo, the words of the Lady can be interpreted in many ways", he said. "I believe you have found a way of destroying the Ring. You have borne it yourself thus far and have given us the benefit of your experience and wisdom so as to enable us to continue with the mission".

"Let us hope so", responded Frodo soberly. "Let us hope so".

On their way back to the chamber they ran into Rombard.

"Ah, Master Baggins", he began. "I believe I owe you an apology". Frodo looked surprised.

"You owe me nothing, Sir".

"Well, that is most gracious of you", responded Rombard, smiling. "It is true what they say, you Halflings of the Shire are ....."

"But I believe you do owe an apology to my companion", interrupted Frodo. He made a gesture towards Sam.

Rombard's face reddened and he looked visibly uncomfortable.

"Very well", he stuttered. "Master Gamgee, Halfling of the Shire, I offer my apologies to you for my earlier outspoken behaviour. I was wrong in my assessment of your intelligence". He paused for a moment. Neither Sam nor Frodo spoke.

"You are both intelligent and brave, Master Gamgee, of that I have no doubt. I underestimated you. In truth I am in awe of you. There is hope for us all whilst the world is peopled with you and your kind".

"Well, we'd best say no more about it, then", said Sam graciously, exchanging an unnoticed sidelong glance with Frodo.

Faramir, who had witnessed the scene with interest, then addressed his kinsman.

"Captain Rombard, I wish you to take these two hobbits to Minas Tirith. You are to give them your protection and ensure they reach the White City safely. Once you are there I wish you to take them to my father, the Lord Denethor. Is that understood?"

"You have my word, my Lord", responded Rombard, bowing low. "It will be an honour to escort these noble creatures to the city of my birth". Faramir then turned to the hobbits.

"Frodo and Sam, I have a favour to ask of you when you reach the White City. When you meet with my father, the Steward of Gondor, I wish you to tell him of my plan to destroy the Ring.

"It will be done", assured Frodo.

---

Frodo and Sam spent the night at Henneth Annûn. At first light the following day Faramir and his company - remarkably well-disguised so as to resemble Sauron's own troops - were ready to begin their march towards Mordor. The captured prisoner, now much subdued, was amongst them.

Faramir approached Frodo and Sam as they stood there in the cool dawn light.

"I hope this will not be the last time we meet, Hobbits of the Shire", he said warmly. "I know not what fate lies in store for me, yet I know what I must do".


"I have something for you, Lord Faramir", said Frodo. His expression was serious as he offered Faramir the Phial of Galadriel.

"Please take it. It was a gift from the Lady of the Wood and it would please me to pass it to you. It provided light for Sam and I when no other was available, so perhaps it will do the same for you". Faramir accepted Frodo's gift graciously.

"I am indebted to you, Master Frodo", he said, and bowed low. "It will be returned to you should I be fortunate enough to return from my mission".

"There is one further thing of which I must speak before you depart", said Frodo. "It concerns Gollum".

"What of him?" asked Faramir.

"Gandalf said to me once that he believed, in his heart, Gollum had a part to play in the destruction of the Ring. Gandalf is wise beyond any person I have ever known and it is my belief that his words should be heeded".

"Agreed", said Faramir. "I will heed those words".

"And should you find Gollum alive, I implore you not to treat him with unnecessary cruelty", said Frodo.

"You shall have your wish, Frodo. The creature will be spared should we chance upon him", said Faramir, and Frodo knew he could trust the Gondorian.

"Farewell, Lord Faramir. May your journey be a successful one".

Both Sam and Frodo had heavy hearts as they watched Faramir and his company march off. They stood close together by the Pool and Rombard withdrew to prepare his carriage for the journey to Minas Tirith.

Sam slipped his arm around Frodo and held him tenderly. Frodo returned his embrace and the two hobbits clung together.

"He'll make it", said Sam, tenderly nuzzling Frodo's dark curls. "He'll destroy the Ring".

"He will have to do that which his brother could not", said Frodo, his face darkening as he recalled the wild look on Boromir's face as he had tried to take the Ring from him.

With their arms around each other, Sam and Frodo walked off to join Rombard and begin their journey to the White City.

The wheels of the carriage turned slowly on the uneven ground and Rombard's white steed trod her path carefully. It was anything but comfortable for Frodo and Sam as they sat behind the Gondorian in the back of his open carriage, although they both had to admit that it made a pleasant change from walking. The tough, leathery nature of hobbits' feet rendered the wearing of shoes unnecessary but Frodo and Sam had undertaken considerably more than their fair share of walking in recent weeks and were only too glad of the opportunity rest their feet and ride instead.

"I'd love to soak in a nice hot bath, Sam", murmured Frodo as they rode along. The hobbits had discovered that as long as they talked quietly there was no risk of Rombard overhearing them. "Me too", added Sam, thinking longingly of gallons of hot soapy water lapping around his sore, tired body. "But it would be even better if we could have one together".

Frodo gazed at Sam adoringly. He knew that Sam longed for intimacy as much as he did. The thought of sharing a lovely hot bath with Sam was almost more than he could bear. He laid his head on Sam's shoulder, arousing in the other hobbit the intense protective feelings which were never far from the surface.

The two of them leaned against each other as the carriage jolted along. Rombard had made few attempts at conversation since they set out and the hobbits guessed that he was embarrassed about the way he had behaved at the Henneth Annûn council. They had learned a little more about him as their journey progressed. He'd started life as a mere stable hand before entering the Gondor Regiment as a lowly apprentice and the hobbits gained the impression that his family were immensely proud of his subsequent achievements. Frodo and Sam were beginning to realise that there was more to Rombard than met the eye and the struggles and prejudices he'd faced in his early life could be the reason for the rather aloof and arrogant exterior he now projected.

It was early afternoon before they stopped for a break. The sun blazed down upon them and both Sam and Frodo were grateful for the chance to escape its burning rays. They sat down, along with Rombard, under the shade of an ancient oak tree.

"How far are we from Minas Tirith?" asked Frodo, as Rombard offered food and water to both hobbits. "Our journey has some way to go yet", responded Rombard, breaking a piece of bread. "I trust it has not been too uncomfortable for you?" "It's been fine", replied Sam. Sam was not being entirely truthful in his answer but at the same time he had no desire to hurt Rombard's feelings.

The three of them ate in silence for a little while and the hobbits were surprised to see that Rombard showed no signs of tiredness. He went out of his way to be kind to them and they were beginning to look upon him with respect. After they had refreshed themselves they took up their places in the carriage and resumed their journey.

Sam wrapped his arm around Frodo as soon as Rombard's back was turned. He breathed in the scent of Frodo's hair, drowning in the memories of how it had felt to make love to him upon the soft green grass of Ithilien. He held Frodo close and thanked the heavens for granting him the joy of being able to express the love he had kept pent up for so very long.

Dusk was soon upon them. They had ridden for many weary miles and Sam and Frodo wondered how much further they would have to travel. Surely the White City couldn't be much further away?

Frodo felt strangely tense as they rode along. He clutched at Sam's hand and Sam was alarmed to see that Frodo's eyes had become wide and glassy. Sam held Frodo close as an unseen but eerily-detected fear spread its icy fingers over both of them.

Rombard pulled up his horse and cast his keen eyes swiftly to his left and then to his right. He peered into the darkening gloom, straining his eyes in the half-light. The Gondorian, like Frodo, had sensed the presence of someone - or something - and was climbing out of the carriage in order to take a look around.

A deafening blanket of silence had been thrown over them and was suffocating them with its heavy weight. Rombard gestured to the hobbits to get out of the carriage, which they did. Frodo and Sam crouched to the side of it and strained their eyes for signs of movement.

Frodo became more and more uneasy as they waited in the suspenseful, darkening silence. Sam noted with alarm that Frodo's breathing had quickened and he himself became more apprehensive as one tension-filled moment stretched unbearably into another.

Then came a sound which struck terror into the hearts of Sam and Frodo.

Thud, thud, thud.

Heavy hooves resounded upon sun-hardened ground. A black figure, mounted on a huge black horse, loomed in front of them.

It was a Ringwraith.

Rombard drew his sword and at the same time Sam shouted in horror. He wrapped his arms protectively around Frodo. "You won't get him, you monster". Sam spat out his words venomously and unsheathed his own sword. His normally calm and gentle features were distorted with hatred and he meant what he said. Sam would protect his mate at all costs. He was vaguely aware of Rombard shouting something but had no idea of what he was saying.

The Nazgûl drew his evil poisoned blade and advanced slowly towards Frodo.

Frodo was transfixed. His eyes had become glassy pools of emptiness as he stared helplessly at the Ringwraith's black presence. Terror gripped his heart and squeezed it mercilessly, choking the life from him, rendering him paralysed. Inky blackness wrapped itself all around him and an even blacker presence was gliding inexorably towards him.

The most horrific nightmare imaginable was once again upon him. Frodo was back at Weathertop.

---

Faramir and his men were making good progress. Their early start had paid dividends and the long strides and disciplined marching of the tall Men of Gondor had enabled them to eat up the miles which lay between Henneth Annûn and the pass of Cirith Ungol in double-quick time.

They became more and more wary as they approached the pass. Unlike Frodo, Sam and Gollum, these men would not be able to gain access to the pass under a cloak of stealth and invisibility. Each and every one of them, artfully disguised so as to resemble Sauron's own foot soldiers, was alert and vigilant. They knew that much depended upon the actions of the prisoner who had marched with them and that a single false word on his part could betray the true purpose of their mission.

Faramir pressed a knife into the prisoner's back as they approached the pass. Tensions ran high as an orc guard appeared. The hideous creature studied the company suspiciously before uttering a few questioning words in the harsh, guttural language of Mordor. The prisoner replied promptly. Although none of the Gondorians understood much of the Black Speech, the prisoner's words seemed to have done the trick as Faramir's company was allowed to proceed unhindered.

The prisoner, in fear of his life and desperately hoping for the much longed-for reward of being able to eventually return to his own land, had not let them down.

Faramir was uneasy as he and his men marched on. They had negotiated their first major hurdle with surprising ease but he was all too aware of the eyes of the orc guard following them. Had it been a little too easy for comfort? Only time would tell, but for now Faramir and his men were free to proceed along the stairs and passages of Cirith Ungol.

---

Frodo lay still. He stared upwards, although whether it was the sky or the ceiling of a room above him he knew not. Everything was swirling; even their air itself seemed to be rushing around and forming itself into whirling, dizzying shapes. Frodo didn't even know whether he was asleep or awake; conscious or unconscious; dead or alive. Everything he saw was shadowed or indistinct; there wasn't a single shape he recognised.

"Frodo".

A word. A sound. A piercing of his consciousness.

"Frodo, my love, it's your Sam here. Come back to me, my love, come back. I love you. I need you. I don't want to live without you".

Sam. Love.

Frodo stirred. Those two words - spoken by a voice he knew and adored - had touched him. Someone was there. Someone warm and comforting, someone who cared for him. Someone for whom Frodo cared in return. Someone he loved more than his own life.

"Sam?"

Frodo had managed to speak. Slowly, his eyes focussed on the face which hovered above him and the warm arms which gently held him.

There was no mistaking the relief on Sam's face as he watched his beloved leave behind the paralysing world of terror which had taken possession of him. Little by little, Frodo began to float back into reality.

"I'm here, my love", said Sam. Tears had filled his eyes. "You're safe. No-one's going to hurt you. Not while your Sam's here".

"Sam".

Frodo gazed into the eyes he loved and reached up. His arms felt leaden but he still managed to wrap them tightly around Sam's neck. "I love you so much, Sam", he said, squeezing Sam close against him. Sam returned his embrace, smothering Frodo with the kind of love which was so great that it had the power to change the course of a whole world.

Sam helped Frodo to sit up and the two hobbits clung together as life and relief surged through them. Closeness enveloped them in its loving warmth and brought with it the knowledge that they were together and they had each other.

"What happened, Sam?" asked Frodo warily. Alarm gripped him as he recalled what had happened. "There was a wraith. Where did it go". Sam grimaced. He took Frodo's hand in his and kissed it. Frodo looked at him questioningly, fearing the worst. Sam's eyes wandered sadly to an inert figure on the ground nearby.

Rombard. Frodo struggled up and ran over to the figure. His face immediately clouded over. "He's dead".

Frodo's voice was blank as he knelt at the side of the dead Gondorian's body. When Frodo had been attacked at Weathertop, the Nazgûl's blade had missed his heart and the healing power of the elves had saved his life. Rombard had not been so fortunate. This time the Ringwraith's weapon had found its target. The remnants of the crumbled Morgul-knife lay upon Rombard's chest. This man had followed Faramir's orders to the letter and had paid the ultimate price.

"He died protecting us", said Sam, choking back the tears as he spoke. "He was so brave. Told me to drag you out of the way then he went at the devil with his sword. But Captain Rombard's weapon made no impression on the wraith".

Sam and Frodo both knelt at the side of the dead Captain. They looked at him and then at each other. "How many more have to die, Sam?" asked Frodo, his voice reflecting the deep and bitter sadness in his heart. "How many more innocent lives will be claimed before this is over?" Sam looked at him despondently. Frodo was not expecting an answer, for he knew there was none.

"Rest in peace, Son of Gondor", said Frodo, touching his right fist to his forehead and then to Rombard's forehead, a ritual which Aragorn had once described to him. "You gave your life for us, which is more than we are worthy of. If we reach Minas Tirith safely, I will do everything in my power to ensure you are given the honours you deserve".

Sam and Frodo pulled Rombard's body under some bushes and then arranged it in a dignified form before laying his sword on his breast. They placed his shield behind his head. Finally, they covered him with his cloak, wishing they could provide him with a better funeral.

Despite their grief, Frodo and Sam knew they could not linger in the area. Sam told Frodo of how the Ringwraith had climbed back on to his black horse and rode off after stabbing Rombard. "I think the wraith realised you no longer had the Ring", said Sam. "After it killed Rombard it didn't seem concerned with us anymore". Frodo felt numb as Sam spoke. "What happened to Rombard's horse?" he asked. "She was frightened by the Nazgûl steed", answered Sam. "She broke free from the carriage and galloped off".

The carriage had overturned and its contents had spilled onto the ground. It was far too heavy for Frodo and Sam to move and there was little that could be done with it anyway. The hobbits took as much of the food and water as they could carry and did their best to camouflage the carriage with leaves and branches which had fallen from the trees.

Once again, Sam and Frodo found themselves travelling on foot. Their hearts were heavy as they set out along the path. An innocent man had lost his life protecting them and that weighed heavily upon both of them. Their bodies felt weary as they trudged along and the sights which greeted them did nothing to improve their frame of mind.

Dead bodies were dotted around here and there; either singly or in small mounds. As far as Sam and Frodo could tell, some of the bodies were Gondorians and some were unmistakeably servants of the Dark Lord.

Both hobbits knew they'd be lucky if they reached Minas Tirith safely. Every step they took brought them closer to danger, for all the signs were that the armies of the enemy were converging on the city and preparing for an assault.

All manner of alarming noises filled Frodo's and Sam's ears as they crept along. Cries, gradually becoming louder and louder, became more prevalent as they drew nearer to the White City. "Look, Sam, I think we are nearly upon Minas Tirith", said Frodo, pointing to what looked like the towers of a large castle way in the distance. "That is where we must go".

Sam nodded grimly. He didn't like the look of what he saw. He and Frodo were completely unprotected and that bothered him terribly. They crouched under some bushes and watched warily as a group of Sauron's garishly-clad soldiers marched by. They were a fearsome sight, even under cover of darkness, clearly visible in their tall helms and war paint made vivid under the glare of their torches, a sight which made Sam and Frodo's blood run cold.

They travelled a little further, stopping every time they heard anything suspicious. The undergrowth was thick and difficult to negotiate; both Frodo and Sam stumbled from time to time as they followed their laborious path.

On and on they walked, grateful for the cover of night's darkness which, in their elven cloaks, rendered them virtually invisible. They walked across a furrowed field, pocked with the hoof-marks of many horses, and then stumbled their way across a fast-running stream, hurting their feet on the many sharp stones which lay, unseen, beneath the dark, swiftly-flowing waters.

They were moving closer and closer to the towers of the White City. It looked ever nearer in their sight and that was something which brought them some comfort. Neither Frodo nor Sam allowed their thoughts to linger on what they might find once they arrived at the city; they busied themselves for the time being in simply taking one step at a time. Once they arrived at the gates of Minas Tirith their plan was to ask for an audience with Lord Denethor.

It was still dark when Sam and Frodo decided to rest awhile. Their legs would carry them no further and they slumped, exhausted, under some bushes. Holding each other close, the two hobbits snatched a few hours' rest before taking stock of their situation at break of day.

Dawn broke early over Minas Tirith. It cast its rosy glow over the White City, giving its walls a warm, pinkish tinge, a pretty colour which belied the horror of the situation outside. The terrible sounds of battle awakened Frodo and Sam from their slumber. Immediately alert, they clutched each other protectively, looking all around them for signs of disturbance. Although they were both unbelievably sore and weary, they were anxious to set out on the final leg of their journey, the journey which they hoped would take them to the gates of the White City.

But as soon as they peered through the branches of the bushes Sam and Frodo knew that things were not going to be that simple. The assault upon Minas Tirith had already begun and the hobbits found themselves very much in the thick of it.

---

Faramir and his men made their way up the same steep, treacherous stairs which Frodo and Sam, led by Gollum, had climbed not so long ago. Faramir marvelled at the resilience and stamina of the hobbits; these steps were not easy to negotiate and must have presented a stern challenge to the two small halflings.

The company rested awhile when they reached a suitable platform. They had marched long and hard that day and Faramir was not insensitive to the needs of his men, hardy though they were. With two of the men keeping watch, the remainder of the company settled down to sleep.

They were on their way again a few hours later and the long and weary climb of the stairs continued. Faramir led the way with Mablung and Damrod taking charge of the prisoner, who by now was offering no resistance whatsoever.

It took several hours before Faramir's company neared the chamber where Sam and Frodo had encountered Shelob. They approached the area in silence and with extreme caution for it had become apparent that they were not alone.

Heavy footfalls echoed through the passages as Faramir and his men trod their silent step. There was a good deal of thudding and banging and the sounds were growing louder. When Faramir and his men reached the chamber, the sight which greeted them filled them with horror and dismay.

Pressed against the walls of the corridor lest their presence be detected, Faramir and his company witnessed many orcs milling around the chamber. A large group of them were standing in a corner and conversing in the Black Speech. Faramir, his face taut and grey, looked at the prisoner questioningly, making it clear he expected a translation. The prisoner looked back at him blankly.

A further brigade of orcs emerged from a tunnel leading off from the far side of the chamber. Their eyes were evil and gleaming. Faramir's heart lurched as he watched them for this was the passage which Sam had advised would lead to the chamber where the giant spider had fallen and into which the hobbit had thrown the Ring.

The orcs streamed past, their boots thudding so heavily that the ground shook. One by one they ran past until the last of them emerged from the passage. He threw something to the ground as he followed his companions.

Faramir turned round and looked at Anborn. The other man's face, creased with fear and worry, reflected Faramir's own thoughts and, indeed, the thoughts of all the men present. There was only one conclusion to draw.

The orcs had found the Ring. They were taking it to Sauron.

---

Frodo and Sam embraced as the battle raged all around them. A sense of fatality had overtaken them in recent moments; they knew that their lives could end at any minute and neither of them wished to depart this life without declaring their love one last time.

We'll need a miracle if we're to get out of this alive, thought Sam glumly. He held Frodo in his arms and tears fell from his eyes. After all they'd been through, all they'd faced together their lives were about to end. At least we'll be together when we die, thought Frodo, holding Sam tightly. United in life, united in .....

Something nudged them, nearly pushing them over. Frodo and Sam fell apart, startled, and found themselves looking at Rombard's beautiful white horse. "She must have followed us", said Sam. He stroked the mare's soft muzzle.

Frodo watched as Sam petted the horse. "You always had a way with animals, Sam", he said, smiling fondly. "And I can't help but wonder if this horse represents our best chance of getting out of here". Sam nodded. Precisely the same thought had crossed his mind. He continued stroking the horse; she seemed pleased enough to see Sam again but the problem was her size. Both Sam and Frodo were capable of riding ponies but this animal was huge in comparison.

Frodo looked around him for something to climb onto. He pointed to a large tree stump nearby. "Look, Sam, perhaps if we climb up there we'll be able to mount the horse". Sam led the horse over to the stump and handed the reins to Frodo. "I'll climb up first and then you climb up behind me. Then we'll have to hope we can manage to ride her".

Mounted upon the large horse, with Frodo behind him and holding on to him tightly, Sam urged the animal forward. The hobbits felt as though they were sitting atop a huge lolloping barrel as the horse began to walk. Sam urged the creature to pick up her pace and she broke into a trot.

There were a considerable number of horses and riders converging on the area and many of them were galloping at breathtaking speed. Sam and Frodo clung on for dear life as the mare broke into a canter and then into a much faster gallop. The air rushed past them at dizzying speed and the surroundings became a blur.

With considerable effort Sam managed to rein in the horse as they neared the city gates. His heart was pounding wildly as the horse slowed but the only thing which mattered to him was that Frodo was still clinging to him. Arrows were flying all around them. Men who were only a few yards away from the hobbits fell dead as arrows pierced them.

Frodo and Sam half slid and half fell from the horse but before they had a chance to take stock of their situation they came upon a sight which rendered them wide-eyed with amazement. "Look", shouted Frodo, his voice hoarse with excitement. He grabbed Sam's arm and pointed. "It's Merry!"

---

Faramir and his men watched forlornly as the orcs filed out of the chamber. Despair flooded into their hearts yet they knew that far too much depended upon them for them to give up their quest, even though the situation seemed hopeless.

"We must follow the orcs", said Faramir quickly, once Sauron's creatures were out of earshot. "We are hopelessly outnumbered but we must make an attempt to seize the Ring". He looked at his men, wishing he did not have to order them to undertake so vile a task. "We have our wits, gentlemen, and we have our intelligence. We may have to resort to subterfuge to get what we want. But we cannot give up. Follow me".

Faramir turned and made ready to lead his men after the orcs but as he did so he stumbled upon something. He looked down and saw that it was the object which the last of the orcs had thrown down before leaving the chamber.

Faramir's eyes widened as he peered downwards. "It is the creature which accompanied the hobbits on their last visit", declared Anborn, staring at the thing. "The creature known as Gollum. Dead, by the look of it". "Indeed it is", said Faramir, frowning. He leaned forward, studying Gollum's stinking, decomposing remains in the poor light. He looked thoughtful. "With respect, my Lord, I feel we should make haste to follow the orcs", suggested Anborn. "The speed at which they can travel is not to be underestimated and ....."

"Wait". Faramir raised his hand. He continued studying Gollum's remains. The conversation he had had with Frodo about this creature was very much in his thoughts. He noted Gollum's staring eyes and, in particular, his wide open mouth. The crushed skull led Faramir to believe that Gollum had been savagely attacked.

"Cut the creature open", he commanded. Damrod stepped forward and drew his sword. He slit open Gollum's body from throat to abdomen and pulled the flaps of skin and flesh apart. A foul stench filled the chamber, causing many of the men to wretch.

Faramir covered his nose and mouth with a cloth and even though he examined the insides of the dissected body closely he saw nothing. But drawing upon a sudden moment of inspiration, he took Frodo's gift - the Phial of Galadriel - from his pocket and held it over the body. Something immediately caught his eye. Something which glittered evilly, even though it was covered in foul-smelling gastric juices. Something which would never be overlooked or ignored.

Faramir plucked it from Gollum's entrails and as he held it up there was a collective sharp intake of breath, for all the men knew beyond doubt what it was.

It was the One Ring.

---

Frodo and Sam surged forward; they had seen Merry and wanted to be near him. Something quite remarkable had just happened for on the floor in front of him lay what looked like the crumpled black cloak of a Ringwraith. A tall, beautiful lady with long golden hair lay on the ground nearby. She was clutching her arm.

"Merry!" yelled Frodo, rushing forward to embrace his cousin. Meriadoc Brandybuck looked up and a huge smile spread across his face before he lost consciousness.

Sam and Frodo gathered up Merry's unconscious form and carried him towards the city gates. Pandemonium reigned everywhere; all around them lay dead and wounded people, some of whom were being dragged to safety and some of whom, through necessity, were left to their fate. Frodo and Sam, along with many others who were bearing the bodies of the injured, found themselves ushered inside the city gates.

Much later, after he had been assured that his cousin would to make a full recovery from his injuries, Frodo, leaving Sam in the healing rooms with Merry, sought an audience with Faramir's father.

Lord Denethor, the Steward of Gondor, was a strange-looking man who bore no resemblance to either of his sons. He regarded Frodo with curiosity as he received him and Frodo detected little or no warmth in the man's welcome. Denethor's unwillingness to look him in the eye bothered Frodo.

"Greetings, Lord Denethor, I come with news of your son", said Frodo, bowing his head in acknowledgement of the position which Denethor held. "My son?" responded the Steward, a wild look flaring in his eyes. "This cannot be. My son is dead". "It is the Lord Faramir of whom I speak", continued Frodo calmly. "And he is very much alive, I assure you".

This caught Denethor's attention. He fidgeted nervously as Frodo delivered his tale and glanced several times at a small plinth which stood to his left. Frodo, in accordance with Faramir's wishes, told Denethor the story of the Ring from beginning to end. Wishing to spare Denethor unnecessary pain, he gave as little detail as possible about how Boromir had lost his life.

Denethor stared straight ahead once Frodo had finished speaking. He breathed heavily and seemed agitated and worried. "So perhaps what I have heard ..... what I have seen .....", he began, staring at Frodo wildly. "I understand you not, Sir", responded Frodo. He frowned as he tried to make sense of the old man's strange words. "What you have seen where?" "No matter", said Denethor, breathing heavily. He shook his head from side to side and once again looked at the plinth. "My son ..... my younger son", said Denethor, silently musing to himself. "Going to Mordor. This cannot be; I have not seen this".

Frodo looked at the old man with sympathy. He presumed that the death of one son coupled with the imminent danger faced by the other must have addled the Steward's brain. "Sir, perhaps you should rest awhile", suggested Frodo. He stepped forward and offered the Steward his hand. "No, no", moaned Denethor, shaking his head. "I must think carefully. What you tell me is something I have not seen, yet my heart tells me it is true. I must know if you speak the truth". "Why, of course I speak the truth, Sir", said Frodo kindly, not taking offence at the old man's question. "Why do you doubt it?" Denethor's watery eyes looked around the room wildly before once again coming to rest on the plinth. He looked blankly at Frodo but did not answer his question.

Frodo saw no point in continuing the interview. Denethor appeared lost in his own world and did not even notice when Frodo left the room. Once the hobbit had gone the Steward gave his full attention to the object which lay on the plinth. His eyes blazed as he grasped the edges of the cloth which covered it.

Frodo was puzzled as he made his way back to the healing rooms. The behaviour of the Steward of Gondor mystified him and he could not quite believe that it was all down to concern over Faramir's safety. Frodo made up his mind to pay Denethor another visit shortly but for the time being there was every reason for him to be overjoyed.

Not only was Merry now sitting up in bed and talking animatedly to Sam but sitting by the side of him was Frodo's other cousin Pippin. Frodo ran across and hugged both of them, grateful beyond belief that they were alive. All at once he and Sam were bombarded with an incredible story about escaping from the orcs and being carried along by walking, talking trees.

"It was incredible", said Merry, his eyes wide. "Treebeard carried us all the way to this place called an Entmoot ....." "And you should see Gandalf now", cut in Pippin. "He's ....." "Did you say Gandalf?" asked Frodo. He and Sam looked at each other in disbelief. "Gandalf's alive?"

"Indeed I am". A familiar voice boomed behind them. Resplended in heavy white robes and pointy hat stood the old wizard.

"Gandalf!" The wizard stooped to embrace both Frodo and Sam. He laid a kind and gentle hand upon both their heads and looked at them with twinkling grey eyes. "My dear, dear hobbits, it gives me immeasurable joy to see you both alive", he said warmly. "I had feared the worst after hearing of how the two of you set off alone. There must be a very long tale to tell, I am sure". Frodo nodded gravely. "There is indeed much to tell, Gandalf", he confirmed. "And it is to be hoped that all is not lost".

Gandalf drew himself up to his full height. Not only were Sam and Frodo overjoyed to see him alive but his very presence seemed to fill them with an optimism they had not felt for many a day. But Gandalf's face was grave as he spoke. "There is much work to be done", he said, a myriad of worries flickering across his aged visage. "A battle rages all around us and I am about to rejoin it. Frodo, please walk with me and tell me of your adventures".

Frodo glanced backwards at Sam as he and Gandalf headed out of the room. The two of them longed to be together but they knew that, for the time being at least, they would have to put their own needs to one side and concentrate upon helping others.

Frodo's articulate speech enabled him to bring Gandalf up to date with events quickly. The wizard frowned as he learned of Faramir's involvement. "Let us hope he can do what his brother could not", he remarked grimly. Gandalf took a deep breath. "Frodo, there is no time for me to linger here for I have work to do on the battlefield and I must leave you now. But I cannot leave without saying once again how overjoyed I am to see you alive". He glanced towards Frodo's chest. "The wound inflicted by the Morgul-knife, Frodo, does it trouble you?" "It's nothing I can't handle", Frodo assured him. "There are people here who have far more serious injuries". He hesitated a moment. "And Sam is helping me to deal with it". Gandalf smiled knowingly. Frodo wondered whether the old wizard suspected that the relationship he had with Sam had deepened into something more than just friendship. "As long as Sam is by your side, Frodo, you will be able to cope with anything". Gandalf's eyes twinkled.

Frodo watched fondly as Gandalf strode out of the castle. He was right. The wizard did know about him and Sam. Frodo smiled to himself before rushing off to find Denethor again.

In the meantime the golden-haired lady who had been injured on the battlefield had woken up and Sam was by her bedside. She smiled kindly at him. "You are not the first halfling whose acquaintance I have had the pleasure of making", she said. Her voice was as pure and as beautiful as her appearance. She glanced across at Merry as she spoke. "Pleased to meet you, Miss", said Sam cheerfully. He handed the lady a cup of water. He had never seen a female wield a sword before. She drank in silence for a moment and then introduced herself. "I am …owyn, sister-daughter of Théoden of Rohan", she announced. "My name is Samwise Gamgee, son of Hamfast", responded Sam. He treated …owyn to a smile which warmed her heart.

"Begging your pardon, Miss", continued Sam. "But I was wondering how you and Merry managed to slay that wraith", he said. "Frodo and me encountered one of the devils earlier on and we had Captain Rombard with us. He was a big, tall man, like, much bigger than you and stronger than you and Merry put together, I wouldn't wonder. Not meaning to be impertinent or anything but with you just being a maid, how did you kill the thing?"

Although …owyn smiled, there was a sadness about her which touched Sam's heart. "That was no ordinary wraith, Master Gamgee", she said softly. "He was the Witch-king of Angmar, otherwise known as the Lord of the Nazgûl". Sam's eyes widened. "The legend tells that this entity could never be slain by a man. I, as you have observed, am no man and neither is your friend Merry. That is how - or perhaps why - we were able to slay the Witch-king". Sam swallowed heavily as he absorbed …owyn's story. Things were beginning to make sense at last.

He spent some time talking to …owyn and she seemed pleased to have his company. Sam told her much of his adventures with Frodo and noticed how her eyes seemed to light up whenever he mentioned Aragorn's name. But she was filled with sadness at the same time and Sam wondered precisely what had happened to make her so unhappy.

"I hope you get to meet Lord Faramir when he comes back", he said, doing his best to cheer her up. "Such a brave and handsome man. Wise too. I think you'd like him". Sam told …owyn of Faramir's brave mission. "I should very much like to meet this Lord Faramir", she said after listening attentively to Sam's story, and then she fell asleep.

In the meantime, Frodo had found his way back to Denethor's chamber and he did not like what he saw. The old man was crouched before his plinth and was grasping the edges of the cloth which covered it. Frodo was unable to make out what lay on the plinth other than that it appeared to be a round object.

"Sir, I know not what lays beneath that cloth but I believe it is affecting both your health and your reason", said Frodo in a slow, even voice. "Please give it to me. I will take it and put it somewhere safe".

Denethor panted wildly and his claw-like hands continued to grasp the edges of the cloth. He gave no indication that he had heard Frodo speak. Frodo waited a few moments more then decided it was time to take matters into his own hands. But before he could get near the plinth Denethor lunged towards it and knocked it over. A large glass sphere fell to the floor.

Frodo dived on it quickly and covered it with the cloth. He snatched it out of the way before Denethor could pounce on it but not before a deeply disturbing image flared within the sphere.

Frodo's heart was pounding as he clutched the object. He knew what he had just seen. He looked at Denethor with sorrow. The poor old man wailed piteously as Frodo turned and walked off with the object which, for a very long time, had ruled his life.

Frodo walked quickly back to the healing rooms. He sought out Sam and quickly told him what had happened. "Look after this", he said, handing the wrapped sphere to Sam. "Put it somewhere safe but do not look at it for it is dangerous. I will give it to Gandalf when he returns".

Sam nodded gravely as he took the sphere from Frodo. Their hands touched briefly as the object was handed over. The sight and feel of Frodo's fragile hands made Sam's heart lurch; he was overwhelmed with the need to take Frodo into his arms and hold him close.

"Perhaps soon we will have some time alone, dearest Sam", said Frodo softly. His yearning for Sam was every bit as strong as Sam's was for him. He cupped Sam's face gently in his hands. "I love you, Sam, I love you so much".

Tearing themselves away from each other, when they desperately yearned to be close, was painful for both hobbits. They longed to be able to steal away to somewhere quiet, somewhere they could be alone together. Their love was so deep and so intense that being apart, even for short periods, caused them much distress.

Frodo put on a brave face as he headed back to Denethor's chamber. He knew that the old man was suffering and he also knew that the sphere which he had confiscated from him was the cause of his misery. He was determined to do something to help Faramir's father.

---

Faramir stared at the Ring. His men watched him as he held it between thumb and forefinger and most of them marvelled and rejoiced at how the orcs had somehow managed to overlook Gollum's dead body as a possible receptacle for the Ring whilst carrying out their search in the spider's pit.

But Faramir's expression was odd. Anborn, who had known Faramir since childhood, had never before seen such a look on his colleague's face.

Anborn cleared his throat. "Sir, do you not think that we should continue with our journey and take the Ring to Mount Doom?" he suggested, watching Faramir's reaction closely. Faramir continued to stare at the Ring. "Hmmn?" Faramir looked up. "The Ring, Sir", continued Anborn. "I think we should be on our way with it". "Oh, indeed, yes", said Faramir. He looked at the Ring once again and then placed it carefully in his pocket. "Perhaps I should take charge of it first", said Anborn firmly. "It was agreed that you, Sir, would take it last of all, don't you recall?" Faramir looked sheepish. "Indeed I do", he conceded. "Thank you for reminding me, Anborn". He reached into his pocket and handed the Ring over to Anborn. "Here, wrap it in a cloth and hide it. It will change hands at dawn tomorrow. Any man who refuses to hand it over will be killed".

A heavy and ominous silence, brought about by the Ring's presence, had fallen upon the men as they trudged along. Anborn was particularly troubled by Faramir's behaviour. He was well aware of the fact that he would be the one to accompany Faramir to the Crack should the company reach Mount Doom safely and the idea was already making him uncomfortable for he had already been given orders to kill Faramir should the other man falter when it came to disposing of the Ring.

The company's march across Mordor began. The journey met with incident almost as soon as they set foot in the Land of Shadow and had it not been for the prisoner in their midst Faramir's men would almost certainly have faced certain death at the hands of a patrolling company of orcs.

Faramir and his company spent the night amidst a similarly clad brigade of soldiers and were forced to join in with their manoeuvres so as to avoid detection. He and his men were hot and uncomfortable beneath their disguises yet none of them faltered as again and again they were called upon to answer duty's call.

They were stopped several times as they made their tortuous way across Mordor. Each time the men counted themselves lucky to have escaped detection and each of them knew that their prisoner had allied himself with them and had turned his back upon the forces of the evil.

The men were in a surprisingly buoyant mood as they approached the foot of the tall, imposing Mount Doom. It towered ominously above them and belched poisonous fumes into the already unpleasant atmosphere; all the men in the company were affected by the fumes and many of them had developed hacking coughs, something which they feared would give them away in the early stages of their journey.

The Ring had changed hands each day as planned and this morning it had passed to Damrod. He placed it in his pocket, much as his predecessors had done, and was watched carefully by the other men as he secreted it about his person.

The final leg of their journey was about to begin. Faramir had successfully led his men to Orodruin and now they had only to find their way to the Crack of Doom and destroy the Ring.

---

The days spent in Minas Tirith were busy ones for Frodo and Sam. Frodo spent much time with Lord Denethor and, through patience and careful questioning, eventually learned the secret of the palantír, the spherical object which had caused the old man so much torment and misery.

Frodo was shocked when he learned the truth. He knew beyond doubt that he had seen the Eye of Sauron flare in the palantír on the occasion he'd been forced to look at it and the thought that Sauron may have seen him and recognised him as the former ringbearer was a worrying one. Frodo hoped that it would not jeopardise Faramir's mission in any way.

"You have quite possibly saved the old man's life", said Gandalf, nodding wisely as Frodo told him the story of Denethor's palantír. He took the object from Frodo. "I now have two of these seeing stones in my possession". "Where did the other come from?" asked Frodo, curious to know more about the things. "From Saruman", answered Gandalf sadly. "Sauron is adept at seeking out sick or weak minds. Saruman and Denethor were ideal targets for him to corrupt".

Frodo was pleased that he had been able to do something to help Faramir's father. The old Steward, whilst still not in the best of health, was slowly recovering from the madness which had taken hold of him as a result of much time spent gazing into the palantír and much of this was down to Frodo.

Sam, for his part, busied himself in the healing rooms where his skill with herbs and plants provided much-needed assistance in caring for the sick and the wounded. His expertise brought comfort to the men who had been hurt in battle and he spent many an hour talking to them and doing his best to bring them some cheer. Some of the soldiers were so badly injured that they would never leave the healing rooms and for many of them their last memory of this world was the presence of a small, cheerful hobbit whose selfless warmth and kindness did much to ease the pain and suffering of their final hours.

Sam and Frodo heard of Merry and Pippin's many adventures and Frodo's cousins, in turn, learned what had happened to Sam and Frodo after they became separated from the rest of the Fellowship. It all seemed so long ago now. Frodo and Sam were delighted to learn that Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas were safe but the fact that so many innocent lives were being lost on the battlefield weighed heavily upon them.

"This has got to end soon, Sam, it's simply got to". Frodo and Sam were standing on one of the castle's south-facing balconies. Gandalf was there, as were Denethor, Merry, Pippin and …owyn who was now well enough to leave the healing rooms. All of them wore the same anxious expression as they looked in the direction of Mordor.

"It's all down to Faramir now", said Gandalf pensively.

Frodo and Sam looked at each other, each having the same thought. Hand in hand they slipped away from the others and went back into the castle. They had had no proper rest since their arrival in Minas Tirith but right now rest was the last thing they had in mind. They both knew that if things went badly with Faramir they could be dead within hours.

The bed they found was built for men rather than hobbits but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered to Frodo and Sam at that moment except that they were together. They sat close together on the edge of the big bed and, for the first time since the green grass of Ithilien, experienced the joys of being able to open to each other in a proper kiss.

As their tongues entwined blissfully, Frodo and Sam drifted into another world, a world in which only their love mattered. Their need for each other had never been greater than at that moment. Their movements were frenzied yet tender as they removed each other's clothing and the way they held and touched each other spoke of the eternal love which burned within each of them.

Frodo arched his slender body to Sam's loving caresses; each and every touch was an expression of the deepest love imaginable, a love which was so overwhelming that it reduced them both to tears. The knowledge that their lives could soon be over added and even more desperate, poignant quality to their lovemaking.

Had Frodo and Sam died there and then they would have had no regrets. Wrapped in each other's arms, they were exhausted as they drifted into a deep slumber, a slumber from which they knew they might never wake.

---

The heat was intense as Faramir and Anborn stood above the Crack of Doom. The fire below raged angrily and the two men, standing far above it, could feel its heat scorching their skin.

Faramir drew the Ring from his pocket. Anborn fidgeted uncomfortably, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. He wanted this business to be over. Faramir had the Ring in his hand and had only to drop it into the flames for evil to be destroyed for good.

But Faramir seemed to have other things on his mind and that troubled Anborn greatly, for he had no desire to kill the noble man who was not only his commanding officer but also his life-long friend.

"Do you not think it strange that the entire fate of Middle-earth should rest on so small a thing?" Faramir spoke in a slow, staccato voice, the tone of which made Anborn shiver despite the heat which flared from the crevasse below. "It must be destroyed", replied Anborn boldly. "I suggest you to it now, Sir. Destroy evil for ever".

Faramir appeared not to have heard. He stared at the Ring as it lay in the palm of one hand and caressed it with the forefinger of the other. Faramir's face bore the same strange, unreadable expression which Anborn had witnessed when Faramir had plucked the Ring from Gollum's stomach.

Anborn was distraught as he watched Faramir. Instead of allowing the Ring to drop into the crevasse, he held it up and continued to stare at it. "It's mine, Anborn, all mine", hissed Faramir. His eyes glittered strangely in the malevolent, shooting firelight.

Anborn drew his sword.

"Put away your sword, Anborn".

Faramir gave his command firmly and decisively.

"I will not, my Lord. I have my orders. They are orders I intend to follow if necessary".

Anborn's face was a rigid mask of determination as he spoke, a mask which concealed the agonised feelings that raged within him. He stood there with his sword raised, ready to strike if he had to.

"Put away your sword".

Faramir looked Anborn directly in the eye as he spoke. This time his voice was rational, more like that of the Faramir Anborn knew and respected. It took him by surprise.

"Sir?"

Anborn was confused.

Faramir managed a small, wry smile.

"Trust me, Anborn", he said quietly. "In all the years we have known each other, have you ever known me to betray you?"

"No, Sir, but you did not previously have the Ring. Please drop it into the flames now and let us be done with this business once and for all".

Faramir sighed.

"How little you understand, Anborn", he said, shaking his head sadly. His face was illuminated by the firelight from below as he cast his eyes around the ancient, blackened chamber.

"This Ring", continued Faramir, holding the thing in his hand. "I possess it. It is mine, do you not agree?"

"Or perhaps the Ring possesses you, Sir", replied Anborn sardonically. He had re-sheathed his sword but his hand remained on the hilt.

"Anborn, this Ring here, it killed my brother", said Faramir. His face was becoming distorted with a slow, burning hatred. "It killed him. It possessed him. It ensnared him and took away his reason. It drove him to madness".

"Please destroy the Ring, Sir", pleaded Anborn. "I ask you one last time to cast it into the flames. I will not allow a whole world to be sacrificed".

But Faramir continued to stare at the Ring which he held in his hand.

"You killed my brother", he said, this time addressing the Ring instead of Anborn. "You killed the brother I adored, the brother I modelled myself on. The son my father was so proud of. You killed him. You killed him. You killed him".

Faramir wept. All the grief and anger he had suppressed for so long was suddenly released. He stood there above the fiery furnace with his hand outstretched. The Ring lay in the palm of his hand.

"You killed my brother", repeated Faramir, his handsome face distorted with hatred. "YOU ... KILLED ... MY ... BROTHER", he shouted, as his rage burned with an intensity so great that it rivalled the fire below. "And now ....I .....KILL.....YOU!"

Faramir laughed triumphantly as he turned his hand over. The Ring hurtled downwards, downwards, ever downwards, screaming in fury as it fell to its fiery death.

---

Frodo and Sam lay in each other's arms in the big soft bed. They were blissfully happy as they lay there, lost in their own world, a world in which nothing but their love existed.

Cradling his dearest one lovingly with one arm, Sam was gently sucking each of Frodo's fingers. Frodo gazed at him with dreamy, adoring eyes.

"I don't want to leave here, ever, Sam", he said huskily. "I just want to stay here, in this bed, in your arms, forever".

"I can't believe I'm here with you, like this", said Sam, choking back the emotion which blinded him. "I dreamed of being close to you for so long. Dreamed of being able to love you properly, the way you deserved to be loved".

"I'd be lost without you, beloved Sam", whispered Frodo. "Totally lost. Don't ever leave me".

"Leave you?" said Sam, horrified. "I could no more leave you than I could stop breathing. You're my life, my love, the reason I'm alive. My life would have no meaning without you".

Sam's words - replete with raw emotion and so typical of the unconditional love he gave to Frodo - filled them both with need. They embraced again, unable to tear themselves away from each other. The passion they had shared in the preceding hours was still very much with them; their love had made them feel warm, languid and contented.

"Sam, something very strange happened when I fell asleep last night. I heard someone singing, it sounded like an elven lady. I couldn't make out her words but she had the most beautiful voice".

Sam looked dumbfounded.

"I heard it too", he said, his face animated. "I heard the elf lady singing. Who do you think she was?"

"I don't know", replied Frodo thoughtfully. "There are no elves here, as far as I am aware".

"Perhaps we dreamed it", suggested Sam.

"But how could we both dream the same dream?" asked Frodo, puzzled. "It doesn't make sense".

They thought no more of it then, for Frodo had other things in mind. He rolled on top of Sam and kissed him passionately. Sam's lips opened willingly; he wanted to taste Frodo's velvet tongue with his. It was a sensation which he simply couldn't get enough of. Their tongues entwined, igniting little flames of passion which quickly caressed their bodies into a state of burning arousal.

They stroked and caressed each other slowly at first, each of them allowing their hands and lips to explore the other's upper body. Frodo gasped as Sam's warm mouth kissed gently across his sensitive throat and then trailed a line of soft, moist kisses all the way down his body.

Sam lingered when he reached Frodo's navel; he allowed his tongue to taste it and explore it. Frodo sighed with pleasure, totally helpless as he lay there writhing with delight as Sam's loving hands moved over his naked skin.

They were both very hard and very aroused as they lay in each other's arms under the luxurious covers of the wide bed. They stroked and petted one another gently, exploring each other's length and shape and treating each other's bodies with tenderness and respect. They continued to kiss deeply and intimately. Sam rolled on top of Frodo without even realising he had done so; their limbs entwined as their bodies meshed and became one.

Their ecstasy was unparalleled and their love soared to new heights as they made love to each other in the great bed. Moving naturally from one position to another, whilst rubbing their aroused bodies together, Frodo and Sam gave themselves to each other heart, body and soul. They each called the other's name when the earth-shattering final moment came. It was an explosion of such phenomenal passion which, quite literally, made them feel that the earth had moved.

"Oh, Sam", gasped Frodo breathlessly. "I have never known anything like this".

But it was not just their lovemaking which had made the earth move. A real tremor had shaken the castle. Sam and Frodo got out of bed and ran over to the window but it was too high for them to see out of. Dressing hurriedly, they ran outside onto the balcony and found themselves immediately joined by Gandalf, Denethor, Merry and Pippin as well as members of the palace staff.

"Look! See!" cried Gandalf, pointing in the direction of Mordor. "Orodruin is erupting. "Oh, rejoice, rejoice! Faramir has succeeded in his task! He has destroyed the Ring!"

All at once celebrations broke out. As far-off Orodruin continued to light up the sky with its sensational fireworks, everyone on the balcony cried, laughed and jumped for joy. Middle-earth was safe. The Shadow was gone and the enemy destroyed. Sauron was no more and never again would he terrorise the free peoples of the world.

Merry and Pippin danced around the balcony as if drunk and very soon they were joined by soldiers, servants and nurses from the palace household. Frodo and Sam joined in too; the heady atmosphere was as different as could be imagined from the suffocating worry which had burdened them all last night.

"That explosion did signify that the Ring had been cast into the Crack of Doom, didn't it?" Frodo asked Gandalf, as the old wizard joined in the fun and games.

"Indeed it did", responded Gandalf. "Orodruin would not erupt like that unless something very significant had taken place. And I can think of nothing more significant than the destruction of the Ring".

Frodo had never felt so relieved in his entire life. Good, brave Faramir had found a way. He and Sam were ecstatic; the news was so good that they could scarcely bring themselves to believe it.

"I imagine that you two will always have fond memories of what you were doing at precisely the moment the Ring was destroyed", remarked Gandalf a little later. He had been quick to take in the hobbits' dishevelled, hurriedly-dressed appearance and his eyes were twinkling benignly.

Sam's face deepened to the colour of the reddest beetroot. Frodo looked vaguely embarrassed but somehow managed to avoid blushing. Neither of them spoke. Gandalf was chuckling to himself as he strode off.

"The earth definitely moved", said Sam, once Gandalf was out of earshot. "And it weren't all to do with that Ring, either".

"Yes, Sam", beamed Frodo. "The earth did move for us, no doubt about it".

---

"RUN! DON'T LOOK BACK!" Faramir shouted his orders as he and Anborn made ready to flee the chamber. They ran as swiftly as they could, dodging the chunks of burning debris which fell all around them. The noise was deafening. Jets of molten lava were spewing out of the Crack; both Anborn and Faramir knew they would be lucky to escape from this place with their lives.

They joined up with the rest of the men and started to make their way down the mountain. Lava poured all around them and cut off their means of escape and burning debris was still being hurled with great force out of the volcano.

"This way!" yelled Faramir, signalling with his arm that his men were to follow him.

They had to make their way very carefully; a route ill-chosen could mean an agonising death in a sea of burning lava. The men discarded the heavy armour which they had worn to disguise themselves as soldiers of Sauron for there was thankfully no longer any need to maintain this pretence. Their path down the side of the mountain was a slow and tortuous one and by the time they reached the foot each and every one of them was suffering from severe dehydration and exhaustion.

But Faramir would not allow them to rest until they were out of harm's reach. He was pleased that none of his men had suffered injury, for he took his responsibilities seriously. All the men - including himself - were blackened with the dirt and fire debris through which they had battled to get themselves to safety.

Mordor was in chaos. The black tower of Barad-dûr had been reduced to rubble. Sauron's soldiers, now directionless and leaderless, wandered around in bewildered disarray, desperate for someone to guide them and orcs committed suicide in droves.

Faramir's long-suffering prisoner spotted a group of men from his own land and, using one or two rudimentary words in the Common Speech, asked the Gondorian's permission to join them.

"Go in peace", responded Faramir immediately. He touched his former's prisoner's forehead with his fist. "May you find your way back to your own land, wherever that may be. And take with you our thanks and our gratitude for all you have done".

Faramir and his men watched as the delighted foreigner bounded off to join his own kinsmen. None of them had overlooked the immense part he had played in allowing them to find their way to Orodruin and none of them wished him anything but good luck.

Anborn looked at Faramir with undisguised admiration.

"You have saved us all, my Lord", he said. "You found the strength to destroy the Ring and thus free the world from the dire peril it faced".

"All in all a good day's work, would you not say?" responded Faramir evenly. He looked relaxed and happy; a far cry from the taut, grief-stricken and angry man who had stood at the Crack of Doom a short while ago.

The men were cheerful as they retraced their steps through Mordor. Their mission had been a resounding success and although they still had a journey to face they knew that once they arrived home they'd be able to settle down to a life of peace, contentment and happiness in a world which was free from the shadow which had threatened it.

---

Frodo and Sam were having a wonderful time in Minas Tirith. There were celebrations galore in the city as the realisation that it was safe from further tyranny gradually dawned upon its inhabitants. Great flagons of ale were consumed and people danced merrily in the streets night and day.

But the celebrations were not entirely without seriousness. Victory over Sauron may have been achieved, but the number of dead bodies which had to be collected from the battlefield served as a painful and poignant reminder to all concerned that the War of the Ring had been won at a very high cost.

In due course Aragorn returned to Minas Tirith, there to claim the crown which was his by virtue of his long and noble ancestry. He was accompanied by both Gimli and Legolas and it pleased the hobbits not only to see them again but also to witness that the dwarf and the elf, after their initial period of antagonism, had gone on to become firm friends.

Aragorn had many words of kindness for Frodo and Sam for he had been troubled when the two of them set off alone after Boromir's death. He gave Frodo a potion to counteract any poison which remained in his body following his encounter with Shelob and then praised Sam's decision to dispose of the Ring.

"I could never have left Frodo in that orc tower", said Sam. The thought still made him shudder. Aragorn studied both hobbits closely; Frodo wondered whether the King-in-waiting suspected anything about the relationship which had developed between him and Sam but quickly realised that, even if he did, it would not be something which bothered someone as worldly-wise as Aragorn.

Frodo and Sam were quick to accept Aragorn's invitation to travel to the Field of Cormallen with him. This place lay not far from Henneth Annûn in northern Ithilien and translated into the words "circle-golden", an appropriate place for further celebrations to mark the destruction of the One Ring.

There was every reason for Frodo and Sam to be overjoyed as soon as they arrived at the Field. Faramir and his men, triumphant from their successful mission, had arrived there safely. They had found horses wandering loose at the gates of Mordor and had had no hesitation in making use of them as a means of transport back to Ithilien.

"Faramir! Are you well?" asked Frodo as Faramir rushed to greet them.

"Yes, we are all well", replied the brave Gondorian. Miraculously, save for a collection of cuts, bruises and minor burns, none of his men were harmed.

He stooped and enveloped both hobbits in a special embrace, an embrace which spoke of the immense gratitude they all felt at the destruction of the Ring and the party's safe return home.

"There are no words which I can speak to describe the joy I feel right now", said Frodo, as he and Sam hugged Faramir.

"Dear Frodo and Sam, it was your guidance, strength and wisdom which made this possible", responded Faramir, his eyes sparkling warmly. He drew something from his pocket.

"Here, please take this, Frodo". He handed over the Phial of Galadriel. "This gift served a very useful purpose in the dark chamber of Cirith Ungol. Did I not say that, if I returned from my mission, it would be returned to you?"

Frodo nodded and accepted his Phial back graciously.

"I thank you, Lord Faramir. You have delivered our world from peril and we all stand very much in your debt".

"As do I in yours", responded Faramir. He drew himself up to his full, lofty height.

Frodo and Sam looked at each other. They had not understood Faramir's words.

"You gave me the chance to avenge my brother's death", explained Faramir, smiling as he noted the hobbits' bemused expressions. "And that is something for which I will be eternally grateful". His face darkened as he recollected those never-to-be-forgotten moments when he had stood at the Crack of Doom holding the fate of Middle-earth in the palm of his hand.

"As I stood there I could feel the Ring's power working on me", he continued, his eyes blazing. "It was speaking to me, calling me, encouraging me to slip it on my finger". Faramir paused for a moment and stared in the direction of Mordor. "I could hear it whispering my name. But I focussed on one thing - the death of my brother. I knew that had it not been for the Ring my brother would still be alive and it was this knowledge which gave me the strength I needed to put an end to the Ring's power".

Sam and Frodo listened attentively as Faramir's story unfolded. They had had immense respect for this man before he left for Mordor and now their respect for him had doubled. They were both full of admiration for the quiet way he told his story and for the way he sought no glory for himself.

"What about Gollum?" asked Sam. "Did you see any more of him?"

"Indeed we did", answered Faramir, smiling wryly. "But he no longer lives".

Faramir told Frodo and Sam of how he and his men had discovered the Ring in Gollum's stomach.

"Your wizard friend was correct", he concluded. "Gollum's role in the story of the Ring proved to be a most vital one".

"Poor Gollum", mused Frodo sadly. "I feel so sorry for him. He became the creature he was because of his long exposure to the Ring. It was not his fault. I could have ended up like him had I kept it as long as he did". Frodo shuddered. Sam placed his arm protectively around him.

Sam then told Faramir of how Captain Rombard, upon being confronted by a Ringwraith, had given his life in order to protect himself and Frodo. Faramir looked grave as Sam's tale was told.

"Although I had no great liking for the man I am saddened and dismayed by his death", he said. "I shall see to it that his name is included amongst those who died with honour". It pleased both Sam and Frodo very much to hear this.

Aragorn walked up to them and he and Faramir clutched one another's arms in the traditional greeting of Gondor.

"My King", said Faramir, bowing low. "I greet thee and welcome thee. I am honoured to be thy subject".

"It is I who am honoured", responded Aragorn. "To have a man as fine and as noble as you for kin is more than I deserve".

The two tall Men of Gondor, bonded by kinship and a great deal more, walked off together. They had much to discuss.

In due course Sam and Frodo returned to Minas Tirith along with Aragorn, Faramir and the other Rangers. They were thrilled to be attending the ceremony which would see the crowning of the newly-returned King. Minas Tirith was alive with excitement as preparations were made for the coronation. Gondor had not had a King for many a generation and its people were not about to let the occasion pass without celebrating it to the full.

Lord Elrond arrived from Rivendell along with his incomparably beautiful daughter Arwen Evenstar and they were soon joined by Arwen's grandmother, Galadriel, who had travelled from Lothlorien with her husband Celeborn.

The coronation itself was a grand affair. Aragorn stood resplendent in regal glory as the Crown of Gondor was placed upon his head. He carried the blood of Isildur in his veins but the weaknesses of that long-dead ancestor had not passed to him. He looked every inch the King as he received the homage of his subjects, a far cry from the disreputable-looking ranger the hobbits had made the acquaintance of long ago in the village of Bree.

Special ceremonies were held to mark the achievements of the Ringbearers. Both Frodo and Sam were honoured for their part in bearing the Ring as far as the very gates of Mordor and all the other members of the Fellowship were saluted for the roles they had played too. Each and every one of the Rangers of Ithilien were commended for their efforts and bravery but the highest honours of all were reserved for Faramir, the man who had shouldered the ultimate responsibility for the Ring's destruction.

"There is no honour in all the world that I can bestow upon you which can truly reflect the esteem in which I hold you", said Aragorn, as he conferred the title of Prince of Ithilien upon Faramir. Faramir bowed graciously and then turned to receive the cheers and adulation of the massive crowd which had gathered to witness the celebrations.

The coronation celebrations were swiftly followed by the wedding of the newly-crowned King Elessar to Arwen Evenstar. She had been promised to him in marriage long ago but her father had forbidden the marriage to take place until such time as Aragorn regained the throne of Gondor. There was now no such obstacle to stand in the way of their marriage and the wedding duly went ahead.

The celebrations in Minas Tirith lasted for several days and Frodo and Sam enjoyed themselves to the full. They spent much time with Merry and Pippin and Frodo noted with amusement that his two young cousins had lost none of their talent for mischief-making.

Faramir, at the King's insistence, had been awarded the title Steward of Gondor and he spent much time in the company of his father. Denethor had decided to stand down and spend the remainder of his life in peaceful retirement and it pleased Faramir greatly to note that his father's health seemed much improved from the last time he had seen him.

"I hope the two of you will visit me in Ithilien", Faramir said to Frodo and Sam. "You will always be welcome there and I shall always harbour special feelings and respect for each of you". His grey eyes were earnest as he regarded the two hobbits.

"I am sure we shall be honoured", responded Frodo, glancing at Sam and noting the agreement in his eyes. They each remembered that Ithilien was the place where they had first made love. "Ithilien is special to us", added Sam, thinking longingly of the beautiful pool where he and Frodo had bathed together.

Sam was pleased to see that Faramir was also spending quite a lot of time with …owyn.

"I think they make a rather handsome couple, don't you?", he remarked to Frodo, as the hobbits watched the tall man and woman on the balcony. Frodo looked at Sam with mock suspicion.

"Why Sam, I do believe you are plotting something!" he said, beaming widely. Sam grinned and denied any involvement but both he and Frodo could not help but notice the light which shone in …owyn's eyes as she conversed with the handsome, much-lauded but very modest Prince of Ithilien.

In due course the celebrations in the city died down and as Minas Tirith began to settle down to a new way of life the hobbits decided that the time had come for them to take their leave of the White City.

"Please do me the honour of accompanying me to Rivendell", offered Lord Elrond as he walked with Sam, Frodo and Gandalf in the palace gardens late one afternoon. "You are welcome to travel with me there and to remain there for as long as you wish".

"That is an excellent idea", added Gandalf quickly. "A spell in Rivendell would be most beneficial to both of you".

Frodo and Sam considered the idea together and then happily accepted Elrond's kind invitation. A week later, after bidding extremely fond and sad farewells to Aragorn and, especially, Faramir - and after promising to come back and visit them - they set out on the road to Rivendell along with Elrond, Merry, Pippin and Gandalf.

The peaceful beauty of Rivendell, so different to the hustle, bustle and noise of Minas Tirith, was exactly what Frodo and Sam needed. They felt at home as soon as they entered the tranquil environs of Elrond's house.

Frodo's first task was to seek out Bilbo. His ageing, white-haired relative was overjoyed to see Frodo again and relief surged through him as he saw how well and happy Frodo was looking. Tears filled his eyes as he embraced his nephew with Gandalf, Sam, Merry, Pippin and Elrond watching fondly.

"My dear boy", sobbed Bilbo. "You're safe, you're well, you're here. I can scarcely believe I'm looking at you". Frodo hugged him tightly and smiled. It was so good to be with Bilbo again.

At dinner that evening Merry and Pippin announced their intention to leave for the Shire as soon as possible. They each confessed to homesickness and were adamant that they wanted to set off the following day.

Frodo and Sam were sad as they waved goodbye to Merry and Pippin. The two young hobbits, riding ponies provided by Elrond and accompanied by Glorfindel, who had offered to ride with them for part of the way, waved back cheerfully and promised Frodo not to get into any trouble on the way.

"If only I could believe that", said Frodo, as he and Sam went back into the house.

"Oh, come on", said Sam. "They managed to escape from an army of orcs, remember. What could possibly happen to them on the way back to Bree?" Frodo merely raised his eyebrows quizzically in response.

Sam and Frodo went up to their room after they had said goodbye to Merry and Pippin. Sam's face clouded as they entered the light, airy chamber, the same beautiful room in which Frodo had convalesced after receiving the wound from the Nazgûl blade. Sam's memories of Frodo, laying so close to death, had resurfaced and Frodo was immediately aware of his loved one's distress.

"Don't worry, Sam", he said, gently taking Sam's broad face between his hands. "All that is in the past now. Let us enjoy ourselves whilst we are here, for we have so much to be thankful for".

"I nearly lost you", responded Sam in a small, tearful voice. "Twice I nearly lost you. You, the most precious thing in the world to me".

"Dearest Sam, I am truly the luckiest being on earth to have won your love", said Frodo, kissing Sam's hand with moist, tender lips. "Sometimes I feel I do not deserve you".

Sam wrapped his arms around Frodo and held him close. He couldn't believe what he'd just heard.

"I'm going to love you for ever", he said, and his voice was muffled and thick with emotion as he pressed his face into Frodo's hair. "I'm going to love you, cherish you and care for you every day of our lives".

The two of them clung together tightly.

They wandered over to the balcony and watched the beautiful waterfall as it cascaded its path and fell into the ancient river below.

"It's so beautiful here, Sam", said Frodo, tearing his eyes away from the view at last.

"But not as beautiful as you", responded Sam. He kissed Frodo's warm face tenderly. "There's no sight in the world as beautiful as you waking up in the morning".

Frodo pressed close to Sam, laying his head upon his shoulder and nuzzling into his neck. He loved to feel Sam's arms around him.

"I must confess, beloved Sam, that I can never understand why you find me beautiful. When I look at myself in the mirror I see nothing but scrawny ugliness. If I have any beauty then it emanates from the glow of being loved so deeply by you".

"You're the most beautiful thing in the world", insisted Sam. "You're more beautiful than an elf. More beautiful than the dawn".

Frodo smiled and entwined his fingers in Sam's corn-coloured curls.

"Sam, do you mind staying in Rivendell for a while?" he asked. He knew that Sam, like Merry and Pippin, had a longing to go home. "I do not feel ready to return to the Shire just yet".

"We'll stay here as long as you like", Sam responded swiftly. "I don't care where we are, as long as we're together".

A shadow of worry flickered across Frodo's face.

"I hope that we will have a home to return to, Sam", he said. "My house in Crickhollow ..... I hope it's still there. The Ringwraiths might have destroyed it".

"Now don't you be worrying about that", said Sam firmly. He took both Frodo's hands in his and kissed them. "Them Ringwraiths aren't going to trouble us no more and Merry and Pippin promised to go to the house and make sure everything's alright. If there's anything that needs doing they'll take care of it".

He paused for a moment, still holding both Frodo's hands to reassure him.

"Besides", he continued. "Even if there's been trouble at Crickhollow it won't matter because wherever we are I'll make it into a home for you. I'll fill it with all my love and warmth and spend my life making you happy".

Frodo's eyes were moist as he gazed at Sam.

The hobbits set out for a walk that afternoon. The air in Rivendell was cool and refreshing and the late autumn sunshine's dappled glow added a pleasant warmth which added to Frodo and Sam's pleasure as they walked along.

"Come on, Sam, I'll race you to that rock!" Frodo's face was flushed with the sheer enjoyment of being in Rivendell, being able at last to cast aside his worries and, above all, of being with his beloved Sam. He pointed to the rock and ran ahead quickly but Sam caught up with him and grabbed him as they reached the rock.

"Now don't you be getting any ideas about running away from your Sam", grinned Sam as he and Frodo fell to the ground panting.

"No chance of that", laughed Frodo. He nimbly wrapped his arms around Sam's neck and kissed his lips passionately. Sam pulled him close and returned his kiss with equal passion.

"Do you know what I'd really like now, Sam?" asked Frodo, yawning.

"What, my love?" asked Sam softly. Frodo snuggled against him.

"I'd like to fall asleep with my head in your lap, just like I did when we were climbing those wretched stairs with Gollum".

Sam, only too willing to grant Frodo's wish, lowered him gently into his lap and gazed down at him lovingly.

"Oh, Sam", said Frodo blissfully. "I'm so happy".

He closed his eyes and soon drifted into sleep. Sam watched him fall asleep, overwhelmed with tenderness and love. He cradled Frodo protectively as he slept, remembering only too well how they had fallen asleep like this at Cirith Ungol.

But this was different. They were in Rivendell now, not Mordor, and they were safe. There was nothing to harm them anymore, nothing to make them afraid. Sam relaxed his guard and yawned, realising that he was tired too. He and Frodo had had a long journey from Minas Tirith and they had been up early that morning to see off Merry and Pippin. Before long Sam, propped against a stone, was asleep too.

It was Sam who woke up first. It was still daylight but the sun was sinking low in the sky. Intense happiness flooded through him as soon as he realised where he was. A shock of love overwhelmed him as he looked down at Frodo, a perfect picture of peace and contentment as he slept on in Sam's lap.

Sam stroked Frodo's hair off his face and kissed him gently on his forehead. Frodo stirred, murmured and smiled as he gazed up into Sam's loving eyes.

"Sam", he said, reaching up to stroke Sam's hair. "Dearest Sam. I have dreamed of waking up with my head in your lap ever since the last time it happened. I am so happy that I could cry".

Sam held Frodo close, lost for words. The two of them gazed at each other for several long, precious moments.

Frodo then allowed his hand to slip inside Sam's shirt. He stroked Sam's bare skin gently, and the two of them still gazed into each other's eyes. Sam gasped as Frodo's fingers encircled his sensitive nipples.

"I love you, Sam", he murmured. "I love you so much".

Sam made no protest as Frodo unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it open.

"There, that's much better", breathed Frodo huskily. "Now I can look at you". His breathing quickened as he feasted his eyes on Sam's bare chest.

"You've no idea how many times I longed to touch you like this", continued Frodo, stroking Sam's exposed skin. "You have such a beautiful body, Sam. So tanned, so strong. When you used to take your shirt off in the summer, back at Bag End when you were working in the garden, it was almost more than I could bear".

Being touched like this was almost more than Sam could bear. Frodo's caresses were making him shudder all over. Frodo, who still had his head in Sam's lap, was very much aware of the heat and hardness of Sam's arousal. He started to unlace his breeches.

Once he had removed Sam's lower garment and laid him bare, Frodo gave a little murmur of satisfaction. He stroked the hardened length of Sam's arousal, enjoying the delicious feel of it and loving its heat. Easing the foreskin back gently, he then took as much of Sam as he could into his mouth.

Sam groaned and writhed with sheer unadulterated pleasure as Frodo's tongue explored its way around his most intimate part, thrilling especially as Frodo allowed his tongue to linger and flutter around the sensitive ridge. Frodo instinctively knew exactly how Sam loved to be touched just as Sam knew how best to give Frodo pleasure.

Sam cried out Frodo's name as his pleasure was brought to a climax. He laid there breathless and speechless, overwhelmed with the feelings which his mate aroused in him. They laid there together for a little while, feeling the need to linger in the afterglow of their love before making ready to return to the house.

"I do believe you enjoyed that, Sam", teased Frodo as he watched Sam dressing. "It's a good job we found a nice secluded spot, don't you agree? It wouldn't do for the elves to be watching us, would it?" Frodo's eyes were dancing with merriment as he spoke. Sam, putting his own pleasure to one side, was overjoyed to see his beloved so happy.

The two of them spent a delightful evening in the company of Elrond, Bilbo and Gandalf and a number of elves from Elrond's household. After dinner there was much storytelling and the song-singing and no-one went to bed until the early hours of the morning.

Memories of Mordor were fading fast for Frodo and Sam. That night, whilst they were sleeping peacefully in each other's arms, they once again heard the same beautiful singing of the elf lady that they had heard in Minas Tirith.

A few days later Sam was wandering around the house and looking with great wonder at Elrond's collection of artefacts. Sometimes he found it hard to comprehend the fact that Elrond and many of his elven-kin were over three thousand years old. He wondered what it would be like to live as long as that and his immediate thought was that he wouldn't mind it in the least provided he and Frodo could be together.

Frodo was with Bilbo. The elderly hobbit had grown increasingly frail in recent months and spent much of his time in his room but Frodo made a point of spending time with him each day. Bilbo was particularly keen for Frodo to see the book he was writing about his travels and made a point of insisting that when Frodo and Sam left for the Shire they must take the book with them and finish it.

As Sam continued to stare at the artefacts, Gandalf wandered out to join him. He smiled fondly at the halfling; Sam had changed a great deal from the uncertain, scared hobbit whom Gandalf had pulled through the window at Bag End and chastised for eavesdropping. Gandalf smiled to himself as he recollected that moment and thanked the gods for giving the foresight to send Sam out with Frodo on that fateful night.

"Is something troubling you, Samwise?" asked Gandalf. "You look as though you have something on your mind". Sam looked up and wondered whether to tell Gandalf of his thoughts. He decided that he would.

"Well, nothing's troubling me, like, but I was just a bit puzzled about something. Frodo and me, we've had the same dream. Twice it's happened. We both hear a lady singing when we're asleep, an elvish lady we think it is, but we don't know who she is or how we can both be dreaming it at the same time".

A look of incredulity flared in Gandalf's eyes. He stooped so as to be on a level with Sam.

"Do you know the tale of Beren and Lúthien, Samwise?"

"Yes, I do", replied Sam, nodding. "Aragorn told us".

"Well, it was Lúthien - or Tinúviel, to use her elvish name - whom you and Frodo heard singing".

Sam was bewildered.

"I don't understand", he said. "How could that be?"

"Samwise, the love which Beren and Lúthien had for each other was said to be the love to end all loves, you know", said Gandalf wisely. "They sacrificed so much for each other. Legend has it that those who love very deeply - and I do mean very deeply - are somehow able to hear the singing of Lúthien".

Gandalf paused for a moment as Sam's alert hazel eyes widened.

"The love you and Frodo share is very special, Samwise", he continued. "You followed Frodo all the way to Mordor, never once flinching from your task. You would have followed him further if the need had arisen, into the very fires of Orodruin had it been necessary. The decision you made not to abandon him, even though you believed him to be dead, was borne of the deepest love imaginable. There were many different choices which could have been made at that point and each would have resulted in a different conclusion. But one thing would have remained constant throughout; you and Frodo would always have come together eventually, even if it had taken many years".

Sam gaped. He was astonished by Gandalf's words.

"I have known of your love for each other for a long time", continued the wise old wizard. "Perhaps even before the two of you became aware of your feelings. The journey you undertook, whilst unpleasant at times, was responsible for uncovering your feelings".

Gandalf paused again, allowing Sam the chance to take in what he had said.

"Your love for Frodo saved a whole world, Samwise", said Gandalf, with a smile which lit up his old face like a lantern. "The choice you made back at Cirith Ungol led to the destruction of the Ring. Who knows what might have happened had you chosen a different path?

"I am pleased that you and Frodo are remaining here in Rivendell, Samwise. This place has tremendous recuperative powers. Both of you have been through a great deal".

"But it was him who suffered, not me", said Sam. "Poor Frodo was the one who got stabbed by that Ringwraith".

"Indeed, Samwise, but you have suffered trauma too. You believed Frodo to be dead after the spider attacked him, did you not? Your suffering at that time must have been very great indeed".

"Yes, but I was so happy when he woke up though. I'll never forget that moment for as long as I live". Gandalf smiled understandingly.

"So stay here for a while, Samwise. Allow Rivendell to heal you. You and Frodo will return to the Shire when the time is right".

Gandalf made ready to leave Sam alone with his thoughts but then he remembered something else.

"Samwise, the singing of Tinúviel is something which is only heard in rare or exceptional circumstances, you know. This is the first time anyone has spoken to me of it. If you hear her again - and I suspect you will - it is likely that her words will become clearer".

Sam stared after Gandalf as he walked off. He could still hardly believe what he had been told.

The months they spent in Rivendell were filled with immeasurable happiness for Sam and Frodo. Every day brought new pleasure for them, a new way for them to discover their love. They took long walks in the beautiful environs which surrounded them. They bathed naked together in the secluded little pools which led off from the river. Frodo taught Sam - amidst much frolicking and laughter - how to swim. They spent a good deal of time in the company of Bilbo, Gandalf, Elrond and the other elves and enjoyed every minute of it.

Frodo and Sam also had plenty of time to be alone together. They made passionate, tender love by candlelight in their beautiful bedchamber and then slept naked in each other's arms in blissful contentment.

It was a good job that Sam and Frodo had the cosy bathroom which adjoined their bedchamber to themselves, for they had taken a particular liking to the circular bathtub and enjoyed spending time immersed in hot, soapy water.

Frodo and Sam were enjoying that particular pleasure that very morning. They had had breakfast in bed and then decided to enjoy the delights of taking a bath together.

"Oh, Sam, this is heavenly", breathed Frodo as he sank into the divine warm water. "It feels so good".

It was in the bath that the two hobbits discovered another pleasure.

"Here, give me your foot", said Sam, taking one of Frodo's feet in both his hands. He massaged it tenderly, loving the feel of it.

"Your feet are so nice", said Sam dreamily. He closed his mouth around Frodo's big toe and sucked on it gently, closing his eyes as he abandoned himself to the delicious sensuality of the act.

Frodo moaned with pleasure; this always happened when Sam did this to him.

"My feet are just the same as any other hobbit's feet, Sam", he argued softly, smiling indulgently at his beloved.

"No they're not, they're prettier", insisted Sam. His voice was roughened with desire as he spoke.

Returning his full attention to Frodo's hairy feet, he gently pulled Frodo's toes apart and allowed his tongue to lick and explore between each of them. He then sucked long and hard on each individual toe, driving Frodo to delirium with the heavenly sensation of it all, before repeating exactly the same procedure with his other foot. Sam adored doing this to Frodo, and consequently took plenty of time over it.

To say that it drove Frodo wild was an understatement. He adored having his toes sucked by Sam. Right now, though, there was another part of Frodo's anatomy which needed attention.

Frodo was already close to climaxing as Sam's hand touched him where he needed to be touched. Sam slipped his hands under Frodo's hips and gently lifted him upwards, so that his body was above the level of the water. Frodo wrapped his legs around Sam's shoulders and Sam licked at the moistened head of Frodo's burning arousal, flicking his tongue back and forth with soft little darting movements which drove Frodo to near madness. He shot his seed into Sam's mouth, calling out his name, and then collapsed, sated, into the water.

Frodo and Sam held each other close, lingering, as always, in the precious afterglow of their love-making.

"You're so beautiful", said Sam throatily, as he looked at Frodo's flushed face. "So beautiful".

Autumn passed and still the hobbits remained in Rivendell. Winter arrived, affording them the chance to frolic in the snow and throw snowballs at each other. Then, one cold winter's day when they were taking breakfast in their room, something significant happened.

Frodo was drinking the delicious fruit cordial which the elves always provided for breakfast when a very strong yearning arose in him.

"Sam", he said. "I've just had a vision. I saw a kettle boiling over a roaring kitchen fire and a warmed teapot waiting to be filled. There was a cosy kitchen, a table laden with good, wholesome food and the two of us were sitting down to enjoy a meal together".

Frodo's eyes were bright as he grasped Sam's hands.

"Sam, if it's alright with you, I think I'd like to go home now. I'm ready to return to the Shire".

Sam was overjoyed to hear these words. He had been waiting to hear them for so long but under no circumstances would he have ever forced Frodo to return before he was ready. He hugged Frodo, knowing that a new phase in their lives was about to begin.

The hobbits decided to remain in Rivendell until the snow cleared and once the first buds of spring appeared preparations were put in hand for their journey home.

Gandalf spoke to them a week before they were due to leave.

"Frodo, Samwise, I must leave Rivendell now. The time has come for me to depart Middle-earth, for my work here is done now". Both hobbits were crestfallen to hear this.

"But Gandalf, must you go?" protested Frodo. "We'll miss you so much".

"I'm sorry, Frodo, but I must go", insisted the old wizard. "There is no longer any reason for me to remain here".

Frodo and Sam realised they could do nothing to prevent him from leaving.

"We'll never see you again, then", said Sam glumly.

"Oh, but you will", replied Gandalf. "As Ringbearers the two of you have earned the right to pass over the Sea, if you wish. It is a privilege which is normally reserved only for elves". Frodo and Sam looked at each other, not fully understanding the implication of Gandalf's words.

"I only had the Ring when I went to throw it away", insisted Sam. "I didn't really bear it at all".

"Oh yes you did, Samwise", insisted Gandalf. "You bore a Ring of Power, just like Frodo, and the fact that you bore it only for a short time makes no difference. You can both pass over the Sea on an elven ship and then be together in the Undying Lands. You will know when the time is right, just as you know now that the right time has arrived for you to return to the Shire".

Gandalf paused and the hobbits looked at each other thoughtfully.

"Do not trouble yourselves with thoughts of the Sea just yet", advised Gandalf wisely. "You have your lives to lead first, lives which, I predict, will be full and happy. The Shire is calling to you and each of you will contribute much to its future. But your love for each other will by far be the most important thing in your lives".

Gandalf withdrew for a few minutes, allowing Frodo and Sam some time alone together. When he returned they had more questions for him.

"What about Faramir and all the other men who bore the Ring?" asked Sam.

"They have the right to pass over the Sea too, if they choose", added Gandalf. "But as Men of Gondor I believe they will choose to die in their own country".

"And Bilbo?" queried Frodo. "He bore the Ring too, remember".

"Indeed he did", confirmed Gandalf. "He is entitled to pass over the Sea. He will go when he is ready".

Gandalf left Rivendell the following day and both Frodo and Sam were deeply sad to see him go. He rode off on his beautiful white horse, Shadowfax, and such was the speed of this animal that within minutes he was out of sight.

It was on Frodo and Sam's last night together in Rivendell that they heard Tinúviel singing again. It was a truly mystical and wonderful experience for them to lay in each other's arms in the beautiful bed and listen to the sweet magic of her voice, especially as the moon was illuminating the room with its ethereal light. And Gandalf had been right about Tinúviel's words becoming clearer, for this time they heard her words in full:

'Before the Sun and Moon were born When mountains cooled in dawnless skies When fields of green had not yet grown And birds were yet to wing and fly A tale was told of love so great A love to change the world Through dark and light that love endures Both high and low it grows It knows no end and will not cease And time can it not erase The miracle of love is always near Love's heart will never fail So close be you, so love you dear Until time's end is here'.

Frodo and Sam clung together and wept as Tinúviel's beautiful and moving words were revealed to them.

It was a sad moment for Frodo when he bid goodbye to Bilbo. He had tried, unsuccessfully, to persuade the old hobbit to return to the Shire with him and Sam but Bilbo made it clear that he had no intention of leaving Rivendell until such time as he was ready to pass over the Sea. Aside from having to leave Bilbo, who was too weak to leave his room, Frodo was happy. He and Sam bid farewell to Elrond and thanked him for his hospitality. Gracious as ever, the noble and long-lived elf told the hobbits that they would be welcome to return to Rivendell at any time.

Sam had been warned by Gandalf to keep Frodo away from Weathertop on the way home, so after Glorfindel left them they set out on their ponies along the main road to Bree, instead of cutting across country.

The journey to Bree was both enjoyable and uneventful for Sam and Frodo. They spent idyllic, carefree nights making love under the stars, setting up camp wherever they felt like it, and found much to take pleasure in during the days. Sam taught Frodo how to recognise various herbs and plants and the two of them talked about the things they'd do together once they'd settled themselves into their new home.

They reached Bree safely and Frodo and Sam passed a pleasant night at the Prancing Pony, sharing a luxurious feather bed together, and were filled with anticipation and expectation as they neared the Shire.

"If only we were going home to Bag End", sighed Frodo, as their ponies walked on. "I wish I'd never sold it to Lobelia", he confessed.

"It don't matter", said Sam firmly. "We'll be together, and that's what counts".

It was nearly dark when Frodo and Sam arrived at the Brandywine Bridge. They paused and looked all around them, straining their eyes to see something of their homeland in the failing light. Frodo wished they had arrived in the daytime.

The two of them decided to proceed along the High Way towards Crickhollow.

"We can always stay at Brandy Hall if the house at Crickhollow has been destroyed", said Frodo. Sam squeezed his hand reassuringly.

But before they had a chance to go any further a large group of hobbits emerged from over the bridge. Some were riding ponies and some were on foot but almost all of them were shouting excitedly.

"They're here! They're here!" came the cries, and they were getting louder as the chattering, excited horde made their way over the bridge.

"Look, there's Merry and Pippin!" said Frodo, waving as he made out their familiar forms. Sam and Frodo were overjoyed as the hobbit-folk neared them. They were back amongst their own kind at last.

"Well, you took your time getting here!" declared Merry. He stood with his hands on his hips in mock annoyance but then jumped around excitedly, hugging both Sam and Frodo with affection. Pippin was almost mad with delight as he welcomed his cousin and friend back to the Shire; he and Merry had waited a long time for this.

So had all the other hobbits. Frodo and Sam were delighted to see many of their old friends in the party.

"Fatty!" exclaimed Frodo. "How are you?"

"I'm fine", replied Fatty Bolger, clapping Frodo on the back. "But more about that later. Come to Hobbiton, something's going on up there".

"Hobbiton?" Frodo was puzzled. "We were going to Crickhollow", he said hesitantly, wondering why the others wanted to steer him and Sam away from that direction.

"No, no, come on up to Hobbiton first", insisted Merry. He and Pippin dragged Frodo and Sam in a westward direction.

"Why? What's going on there?" asked Sam, every bit as puzzled as Frodo.

"You'll see", responded Pippin smugly. "You'll see". He and Merry smiled mischievously.

Frodo and Sam had no alternative but to follow the other hobbits on the long road to Hobbiton. They got back on their ponies and the final leg of their journey begun.

There was much singing and merry-making on the way back and Frodo and Sam abandoned themselves to the moment, enjoying the company of the friends they once thought they'd never see again. They were asked numerous questions about their adventures but none of the hobbit-folk seemed keen to tell Frodo and Sam anything about what had happened since they'd been away.

Not that Sam and Frodo noticed anything untoward; they were far too busy enjoying themselves. Anticipation mounted in them as they neared the much-loved and very familiar territory of Bywater; they were not far from Hobbiton now.

"Look! It's started!" shouted Fatty. He pointed ahead to where something magnificent was lighting up the sky.

Before Frodo and Sam had a chance to ask what he was talking about there was a deafening explosion of noise and brightness. Huge fireworks shot into the sky in a blaze of colour before forming into the words, 'WELCOME HOME FRODO AND SAM!'

Frodo and Sam were speechless. As they got off their ponies they found themselves hoisted onto the shoulders of the other hobbits and carried for the final stage of the journey. They were now only minutes away from Hobbiton.

When they reached The Hill the sight which greeted them took their breath away. Virtually every Baggins, Boffin, Took, Brandybuck, Grubb, Chubb, Burrows, Bolger, Bracegirdle, Brockhouse, Goodbody, Hornblower and Proudfoot had turned out to welcome back Hobbiton's two most famous residents. In fact, it looked as though the whole of the Shire had turned out.

A huge marquee had been set up in exactly the same place as Bilbo's unexpected party and there was an enormous banner displaying the same welcome home message as the fireworks. Long tables laden with food had been set up and there was enough ale for the entire population of the Shire to drown in.

Every single hobbit present cheered loudly as Sam and Frodo came into sight. They raised tankards and mugs and yelled out greetings and good wishes until they were hoarse. More fireworks were let off and then the party begun in earnest.

Frodo and Sam found themselves amidst a dizzying whirl of activity; over and over again they were congratulated, clapped on the back and welcomed home. All their dear and familiar friends and relatives had turned out to see them and they were so happy that absolutely nothing could have marred their joy.

"Frodo! Samwise! So glad to see you arrived home safely". Frodo and Sam turned around to see a beloved figure.

"Gandalf!" The hobbits rushed over to greet the old wizard.

"You said you was going away ", exclaimed Sam. "We thought we wouldn't see you again".

"Oh, I will be going soon", said Gandalf, a familiar twinkle lighting up his eyes. "But you didn't really think I'd miss your homecoming party, did you?"

Much was beginning to make sense now. Gandalf had ridden to the Shire and alerted Merry and Pippin of Sam and Frodo's imminent departure from Rivendell and this had afforded Frodo's two cousins the opportunity of making arrangements for the party.

Sam and Frodo soon found themselves gobbling food, downing mugs of ale and joining in the dancing. There was a full moon over Hobbiton that night but, bright though it was, it struggled to compete with the splendour of Gandalf's fireworks.

"I think I'll have a little rest", said Frodo to Sam, midway through the evening.

"Oh no you don't", responded Sam with a gleam in his eye. "There's a lass over there who's had her eye on you all evening. You don't want to disappoint her, do you?" He gave Frodo an almighty shove which sent him cannoning into the buxom charms of Primrose Collier, who looked well pleased.

Frodo shot the smirking Sam a 'just you wait' look as he danced with Primrose. He got his reward only minutes later as Sam found himself caught up in the arms of Primrose's twin sister, Violet. Frodo and Sam laughed themselves silly as they spun round the dance floor with the Collier sisters.

Merry and Pippin, taking a little break from stealing Gandalf's fireworks and pouring intoxicating potions into the fruit punch, were watching the dancing.

"Looks like those lasses have struck lucky with Frodo and Sam", commented Pippin, munching his way through a huge slice of pie. Merry took a deep breath and put his arm around Pippin.

"I think the lasses are going to be disappointed, Pip". Pippin looked puzzled.

"Why?" he asked innocently, continuing to devour his pie. Merry looked at Pip, raised his eyebrows, then jerked his head in the direction of the dance floor.

Pippin watched Frodo and Sam as they danced with the two lasses. There seemed nothing amiss as far as he could tell but then the realisation that they seemed to spend more time looking at each other than at their partners dawned.

He looked up at Merry as the penny dropped.

"You mean ..... Frodo and Sam are ... they're settling in together?"

"Yes, Pip".

"And they do things like ..... kissing?"

"Yes, Pip".

"And they ....... sleep in the same bed together?" Pippin had lowered his voice to a whisper.

"Yes, Pip".

"So is that why we only made up one bed for them?"

"Yes, Pip".

Pippin was silent as understanding slowly sank in.

"Do they know about Bag End yet?" he asked, returning his attention to his food.

"Not yet", replied Merry. "I'll save that surprise for later".

Frodo and Sam ate, drank and danced all through the night. No sooner had they shaken off the attentions of the Collier sisters than they found themselves fighting off the advances of numerous other hobbit-lasses, all of whom, as Merry had predicted, ended up disappointed.

It was whilst the party was in full swing that Frodo drew Sam's attention to a small figure sitting alone at one of the tables. Sam looked across and bit his lip as he recognised her.

It was Rose Cotton.

Frodo wandered off discreetly and Sam walked over to where Rose was sitting. He sat down opposite her.

"Hello, Sam", she said, her pretty face breaking into a lovely smile. "Haven't seen you for ages".

"It has been a long time, hasn't it?" agreed Sam. He had been sweet on Rose long ago, before he realised where his true feelings lay, but right now he simply felt uncomfortable. Rose had become a stranger to him.

"What have you been doing, then, you and Mr. Frodo?" asked Rose, who, like Sam, seemed ill at ease. She kept lacing her fingers together, as if she was trying to hide something.

"Oh, this and that", Sam replied, doing his best to appear detached. "And what about you. What have you been up to since I've been away?"

Rose stood up. Her swollen belly gave Sam an immediate answer to his question. It was at that moment that he spotted the ring on her left hand. A few moments later Ted Sandyman appeared.

"Oh! Welcome back, Sam", said Ted in his clipped tones. "I see that you and my wife here have been having a little chat". He placed his arm around Rose's shoulders.

There was an awkward silence.

"Ted, just give me a few moments with Sam, would you?" Rose asked. "Let me have a little word with him".

Ted sloped off reluctantly.

"Sam, I don't want you to be disappointed", Rose blurted out, as soon as Ted was out of earshot. "I know there was a kind of understanding between us, like, but ..... well, I didn't know whether you was coming back or not and you was gone for such a long time and that and ....."

"It's alright, Rose", said Sam softly. "I understand, honest I do. It's a good match for you. I'm pleased for you".

"Oh, Sam I'm so glad you're not upset", said Rose, relief flooding over her. "I was so worried that you'd be annoyed to see that me and Ted had got wed, especially as there's a little one on the way. You're not disappointed, are you, Sam?" she asked.

Sam took a deep breath and made every attempt to look serious.

"Well, of course I am. But I'll get over it".

A huge smile spread over Sam's face as Rose and her husband walked off together. He was relieved to have extricated himself from a potentially awkward situation but his kind and caring nature left him feeling delighted that Rose was so happy.

Sam wandered off to rejoin the party and his heart lurched as he spotted the love of his life talking to Gandalf. He gave Frodo a special glance which told him that everything had been resolved between him and Rose and then watched as Merry and Pippin came over to join them.

Merry placed a bunch of keys in Frodo's hand.

"What's this?" Frodo asked. Merry and Pippin looked at each other and grinned.

"It's the keys to Bag End", said Pippin hastily, before Merry had a chance to speak. Frodo looked at them questioningly and then turned to look at Sam. He looked every bit as confused as Frodo.

"It's yours again", said Merry. "Lobelia has sold it back to you. We've had all your stuff moved up from Crickhollow and I think we've arranged the furniture more or less as it was and ....."

"Lobelia ..... sold it back to me?" said Frodo, stunned into a state of incredulity. "Why? What's been going on? And where are Lobelia and Lotho, why aren't they here tonight?"

"I'm sure you have many questions, Frodo", said Gandalf, who had witnessed the scene. "Much has happened here since you and Samwise have been away, not all of it pleasant. Things are being set to rights but there's still some way to go. I'm sure you and Sam will play a part in things from now on".

"Wait a minute, some of the trees up at Bagshot Row are missing", said Sam, peering in that direction as the first rays of dawn broke through.

"Like I said, there will be many questions", resumed Gandalf patiently. "But they can wait. But the important thing, Frodo and Samwise, is that you have your home back. It's yours again. Go there now and be happy. All will be explained in due course".

Frodo and Sam looked at each other. They were both too stunned to speak.

Merry and Pippin declined Frodo and Sam's invitation to come back to Bag End with them. Pippin was still hungry so he and Merry went off in search of more food, adding that they'd be round later. Gandalf promised to call on them tomorrow before leaving the Shire for the last time.

Frodo and Sam walked home together. It was a short distance from The Hill to Bag End and the path they followed was well-trodden and familiar. Their arms were around each other as they neared the dearly-loved and much-missed hobbit hole. Neither of them could believe that this was happening, that Bag End was theirs again.

They walked up to the familiar front gate and lingered there for a few moments, trembling with happiness. Sam opened the gate and followed Frodo through, closing it behind him.

Sam then fell to his knees and plunged his hands into the earth.

"It's been so long since I've felt the earth of the Shire on my hands", he said, looking up at Frodo with glistening eyes. "The earth here smells sweeter than anywhere in the world".

Frodo joined him on the ground and took Sam's dirtied hands in his.

"We are of this earth, Sam, you and I. We belong here. We are home".

The two of them wept.

They then walked up the path and joy seared their hearts as they approached the beloved round green door. Sam unlocked it and the two of them stood there for a few moments, hand in hand, before stepping through the door together.

"Well", said Sam. "We're back".



- T H E E N D -

This series consists of the following chapters:
(1/5) The Alternative Choices of Master Samwise - PG
(2/5) The Long Road Back - R
(3/5) The Council of Henneth Annûn - PG
(4/5) The Treachery of the Ring - R
(5/5) The Homecoming - NC-17