Title:  Temptation at Cirith Ungol
Author: Kathryn Ramage
Email:  kramage@erols.com
Pairing: Frodo/Sam 
Rated:  R
Summary: An alternate version of the scene in the ROTK chapter, 
"The Tower of Cirith Ungol;" Sam is offered a temptation he can't 
resist. 

Disclaimer: The characters and overall storyline are certainly 
not mine.  They belong to J.R.R. Tolkien's estate, and I'm just
playing with them a little bit for the entertainment of myself
and anyone else who likes this kind of thing.  Some dialogue 
used here is taken from the chapter "The Tower of Cirith Ungol." 

January 2003 (revised June 2003)

!~|*|~!

Frodo was not dead, but he was in the hands of the Enemy.  When 
the orc guards on patrol had discovered his stunned body outside 
Shelob's lair, they had carried him into the tower of Cirith Ungol 
and were holding him prisoner there.  The only thing Sam could do 
was rescue him; he never considered any other course of action 
once he'd learned that Frodo was still alive. 

But rescuing Frodo proved to be more difficult than Sam had 
imagined.  First, he tried to follow the orcs into the tower, 
but the stone door they had gone through with their prisoner was 
sealed, impassable to him.  Seeing no other way in, Sam decided 
to try the main gate.  He couldn't wear the Ring, which he had 
taken from Frodo when he'd believed him dead; now that he was 
in Mordor, it would only draw the Enemy's attention if he put 
it on.  His one hope lay in slipping inside the tower unnoticed, 
and finding his master... somehow.

Sam crept up the path toward the gate, his desire to find Frodo 
pushing him onward when common sense and every other instinct 
urged him to run and hide.  How could he turn back?  He already 
felt guilty for leaving his master behind in the first place--
abandoning Frodo to the mercy of the orcs was unthinkable!

He had a bad scare when he crossed the gaze of the Watchers at 
the gate and set off the alarm, but once he was within the court-
yard beyond, he found a surprise.  Expecting to meet with orcs at 
every step, he had braced himself to fight, even kill, any who 
tried to stop him, but it seemed that the job had already been 
done for him.  Except for one small creature--more frightened of 
_him_ than he was of it--he encountered only dead bodies as he 
ventured into the tower itself and made his cautious way along 
the dim passages.  They had been fighting amongst themselves, 
Sam realized; in fact, he had heard part of their quarrel from 
outside.  It must have been a remarkably vicious battle, even 
for orc-kind, for few were left alive and none barred his way.

More alarmed than ever at his master's fate, Sam went on up 
the steep and winding stairs, chasing after the hobgoblin he'd 
frightened, until he came, trembling, exhausted, and gasping 
for air, to the tower's top.  There, he found more orcs dead 
or dying, the Captain of the Tower berating his one surviving 
underling, and no sign of Frodo.

Then, just as Sam sank down in despair, he finally discovered 
that Frodo was being kept in a chamber hidden in the uppermost 
part of the tower's turret; his own singing to banish his fears, 
and that same little orc, led him to find his master at last.  

The orc was quickly dispatched--since the vile creature had gone 
up into the chamber specifically to beat the prisoner, Sam did 
not hesitate to get rid of _him_--then ran to the naked and 
battered figure that lay on a bed of filthy rags in a corner.  

"Frodo!"  Sam immediately gathered him up. Frodo's head fell to 
his chest; he was in a swoon, but alive.  "Mr. Frodo?  Can't you 
hear me?  It's your Sam.  I've come for you."  He did what he 
could to rouse his master: stroked Frodo's hair away from his 
bruised face, lightly patted his cheek, kissed his brow, and 
glanced desperately around the red-lit room for some water.  

At last, to Sam's relief, Frodo's eyes fluttered open and focused 
on his face.  "Sam..." he murmured.  "Is it really you?  I'm not 
still dreaming?"

"You're not dreaming.  It's me.  I've come.  I'd almost given
up hope of ever finding you in this awful place." 

"Well, you have.  Dear Sam."  And Frodo smiled softly, and shut 
his eyes again.

As Frodo settled down to rest in his arms, Sam felt he could ask 
for nothing more than this.  If he had his way, he'd be happy to 
sit forever, cradling Frodo like a sleeping child, but he knew 
they couldn't linger here.  The orc guards had either fled or been 
killed, but sooner or later, more would arrive.  They wouldn't 
leave this important tower unattended for very long.

"We've got to get out of here," he said.  "How badly did they 
hurt you?"  He would carry Frodo down the stairs if he had to, 
but they'd go more swiftly if Frodo were able to walk by himself.  
Sam looked over his master's body: there were a few bruises, a 
red, swollen lump rose on the nape of Frodo's neck where Shelob 
had stung him, and an ugly-looking welt cut his flank, but that 
seemed to be the worst of it. 

"It isn't so bad," answered Frodo.  "It hurts worst, here-" he 
indicated the sting on his neck.  "Something hit me, didn't it?  
The last thing I remember is running out of the tunnel.  You'll 
have to tell me what happened when we have more time."  Then a 
sudden look of horror spread over his face.  One hand went to 
his throat, fingers clenching as if they sought to clasp some-
thing that wasn't there.  "But they've taken everything, Sam.  
Do you understand?"  His voice rose as the full implications of 
the loss were borne upon him. "_Everything_!"  And, drawing up 
his knees, Frodo curled in upon himself, as if he wanted to hide 
from a disaster beyond imagining.  "The quest has failed, Sam.  
Even if we get out, we can't escape.  No one can, except the 
Elves.  It's all lost."

"No, not everything, Mr. Frodo," Sam told him.  "I have the 
Ring.  I took it from you, begging your pardon, before the orcs 
came.  I've kept it safe.  I've got it right here."  He pulled 
the chain out of his shirt and held it up for Frodo to see.  

"You have my Ring?"  Frodo looked up, expression changing at 
the sight of the golden circle dangling above him.  "It's mine, 
do you hear?  _Mine_.  Give it to me, _now_!"

"Yes, all right," Sam agreed, startled by his master's vehemence; 
he almost expected Frodo to snatch the Ring away from him.  "I'll 
give it back."  With a strange pang of reluctance, he lifted the 
chain from around his own neck and slipped the loop over Frodo's 
head.  

As soon as the Ring dropped to his chest, Frodo closed his hand 
around it.  The touch seemed to revive him.  With a deep sigh, 
he relaxed and sank back against Sam, who was still willing to 
hold him.

"Forgive me, Sam," Frodo said after a minute.  

After bearing the Ring himself for a day, Sam felt that he knew 
something of the temptations it offered.  He'd been tempted him-
self when he'd first crossed into Mordor.  The Ring had shown him 
a vision of what this ruined land would become if he commanded 
it: instead of fires and ash-pits, lush gardens spread as far 
as the eye could see.  But Sam had not been lured by this vision 
for long; as lovely as the garden was, it was not real and could 
never be.  Besides, he had to find Frodo.  His master was more 
important to him than any foolish dream.

"It's all right, Mr. Frodo," he answered.  "I understand."

"You understand..." Frodo laughed softly.  "Of course you do.  
You're marvelous, Sam.  Simply wonderful."

Sam was surprised again at this sudden change, but touched by 
the unlooked-for praise.  "It's nothing," he mumbled.

"No, it isn't 'nothing'.  After all the trouble you've taken to 
come and rescue me, I treat you like a thief.  You must think 
I'm horrible."  

"I don't," Sam insisted.  "I couldn't ever think that about you, 
Frodo.  I know what a burden that Ring is to carry.  I can't 
blame you for being a bit snappish."

"Thank you.  I am very grateful, you know, for everything you've 
done."  Frodo lifted his head from Sam's shoulder to regard him 
with an odd glimmer in his eyes.  "Let me show you how grateful 
I am."  And he stretched up to give him a kiss.

Sam had been kissed once or twice before, but _this_ kiss came 
with an insistence that took him entirely by surprise.  He tried 
to push Frodo off gently, but everywhere his hands went, they met 
warm, bare skin.  Frodo wrapped both arms around his neck, and 
pulled him down.

Before Sam knew how it had happened, they were on the floor.  
Frodo was under him, moving against him; there were more burning 
kisses and whispered words... words he never thought he'd hear.  
Words he didn't think Frodo even knew.  This was all like some 
wild dream he'd never even dared to imagine--but it was _real_, 
and his for the taking.

But he couldn't.  "No," he said, and shoved himself free of those 
entangling arms.  "We can't do this, Frodo.  Not now, not _here_."  

"Why not?" Frodo sat up as Sam climbed to his feet, clutching at 
his shirt-sleeve to detain him.  "Why shouldn't we do this, Sam?  
It's what you want, isn't it?  What you've always wanted."  He 
spoke in a soft, cooing tone that sent shivers thrilling through 
his bewildered companion, and his eyes were glowing like nothing 
Sam had ever seen.  "It's why you've come all this way, to be 
with me.  Isn't that so?"

"Yes," Sam breathed.  He'd never imagined saying this to Frodo.  
He barely admitted it to himself. But how could he deny it now?  
Kneeling before him in the red lamplight, Frodo seemed afire, 
the Ring a glint of gold between the arcing wings of his collar-
bones.  To Sam, he was beautiful, seductive, almost impossible 
to refuse.  

"Then why are you holding back?"  Frodo held out his hand, 
beckoning.  "Come to me, Sam."

Why _was_ he holding back?  Sam would have surrendered then, 
when he realized that this wasn't Frodo talking, but the Ring's 
influence over him.  It was all a trick to delay them, to make 
him forget the danger they were in and stay here until it was 
too late and they were caught.  The Ring had tempted him once 
before with a vision he'd had the strength to resist; this time, 
it offered him something he wanted even more... the one thing 
he wanted enough to give the whole world for.  

He felt furious and ashamed.  He'd endured a lot from the evil 
forces that had threatened them on this quest--Nazgul and orcs, 
giant spiders and that sneaky, lying Gollum--but this mockery of 
his most tender feelings, using them against him to try and make 
him betray his master, was more than he could bear.  And to use 
Frodo this way-!

"No!"  He steeled himself and did one last unimaginable thing: 
raising one hand, he struck Frodo as hard as he could across 
the face.  The blow sent Frodo sprawling and, for a terrible 
moment, Sam was afraid that he'd knocked him out.

Then Frodo's eyes opened--unfocused, but that strange gleam was 
gone.  He was himself again.  Dazed, he reached up to his mouth 
and wiped the fresh blood from his lower lip.

"Mr. Frodo, I'm so sorry!"  Sam knelt at his side.  "Please tell 
me you're all right?"
 
"All right?" Frodo stared at him.  "Sam, I'm losing my mind!  I 
have no control--I see myself doing these things as if someone 
else is guiding me, and I'm powerless to stop it."  And, letting 
his face fall to his hand, he began to weep.  He had not done so 
before, in spite of everything he'd been through.

In ordinary circumstances, Sam would have lifted Frodo up to 
comfort him, but he didn't think he ought to right now. "Hush," 
he said as he took off his cloak and spread it to cover his 
master.  He patted him gingerly, careful not to touch Frodo's 
bare skin.  That seemed safest.  "Hush now.  It's not your 
doing--it's that blasted Ring.  The sooner we throw it into the 
fire, the better off we'll be.  But first things first.  We've 
got to get away before more of them orcs show up.  Are you fit 
to walk?"

"Yes, I think so."  Frodo sat up and, drawing Sam's cloak close 
about himself, tried to rise.  But he was still dazed and un-
steady on his feet, and he quickly sank to the floor again. 

"Rest a minute more, then give it another try," Sam told him.  
"Why don't you wait here, Mr. Frodo, while I go below and find 
you some clothes?  It'll have to be orc-stuff, but I suppose 
that's best in Mordor."  Frodo nodded assent, and Sam scrambled 
up to leave.  "Pull the ladder up after me.  I won't be gone 
long." 

He climbed down the ladder, more relieved to be out of that 
room than afraid of whatever dangers he might encounter below.  
Some temptations were greater than any power the Ring offered, 
and Sam wasn't certain he could withstand _this_ one if he 
stayed near Frodo much longer.

!~|*|~!              

"I love him.  He's like that, and sometimes it shines through,
somehow.  But I love him, whether or no."
                                         - The Two Towers