Part Six

Well it had worked out so much better than I hoped. Faramir wasn't like his brother at all, more like Gandalf. Faramir awakened us that night, seems Gollum had found his way to the pool of the waterfall. Frodo had to convince Faramir not to shoot him; I wouldn't have done that. Yesterday we resumed our journey to the crossroads, Faramir was not happy that we are going this way, but could offer no other choice to Frodo in the matter. Seems the pass is haunted or something, Faramir could give us no details, he didn't know himself. Bless me what gifts he gave; he gave us food rations that look to last about 2 weeks. That will sure help supplement the elves way bread. He also gave us walking staff's cut down to our size. The final gift he gave us was a hot bath, what a treat that was with real soap...ah I have missed feeling this clean. We decided to leave behind our winter garments and extra blankets, to make room for the extra food supplies. Sounds like the plains of Gorgoroth in Mordor are a desert or worse, so we shouldn't need the winter wear. Glad to find a spot that we can leave this stuff without the orcs using them to track us. Faramir is heading back towards Minas Tirith; he is expecting the war to start soon. How dreadful, I hope Merry and Pip are somewhere safe. Gollum estimates that it will be another night's march before we reach the crossroads and start on the road that leads over the mountains. Looks like there is a storm coming. The eastern sky is getting darker. Hope we are not caught on the road when it breaks, we will wish we were back in Faramir's cave. Hopefully it will blow itself out over Mordor, before it reaches us. Well we begin another march.

What a strange day this is. The sky is getting darker and darker as the day wears on. Frodo has been talking in his sleep again. He keeps calling for Gandalf. I have had to replace his blanket a couple of times. He keeps throwing it off, and then starts to shiver with a chill. (There is a cool wind blowing down from the east.) Doesn't seem like his dreams are very restful. I couldn't sleep earlier either. The air is thick and heavy. We are near the crossroads. Faramir says this place is called Southern Ithilian, the garden of Gondor. What a steward he will make. He told us that with Boromir's death, he will have to take up the staff of stewardship after his father, he will be one of the greats I have no doubt. Kind and lordly he was. He doesn't want to rule Minas Tirith, he said, he would much rather reside here in Ithilian. It is a lovely place in the sunlight. Gollum has gone off and left us, hunting I suppose. He refuses to eat both the elves and Faramir's food. Poor wretch can't help sometimes feeling sorry for him. He fishes from the rivers and streams here, and that seems to suit him. It's only around noontime. The day is still getting darker instead of lighter. If it is a storm it is going to be terrible. Gollum is back and has startled Frodo out of his sleep. GRR I hate it when he does that, he says we must go now. Don't know what his hurry is. But we will go. Might as well be on the march, since none of us can sleep.

POOR FARAMIR, the war that he spoke of has begun. We sit here and can do nothing as we watch the host of Minas Morgul ride out. They have been riding out for hours it seems, host upon host. Frodo is feeling the weight of the ring ever since we passed the crossroads last night. Caught our last glimpse of sunlight there, it shown upon the head of one of the old kings statues. The dark is not from a storm we have discovered; it seems to be smoke rising from Mordor. Thought we were discovered at last. Frodo had a terrible time fighting the pull of the city first, nearly made him sick. Gollum and I had to pull him away from the bridge; we were heading headlong into disaster. We finally had him going into the right direction when the gates opened and out marched one of those black riders leading the army. He paused at the bridge and Frodo had to fight both the pain of his old shoulder wound and the commands to put on the ring. What a terrible internal battle that must be, my heart aches for him. If only I could do something. The ladies glass helped him win this battle, and he has fallen asleep. I will not wake him until they are gone. There is a long stair cut into the mountain near us and Gollum says that is our way. Looks like a ladder more than a stair and goes straight up the mountain. Frodo will need his rest before then. It is growing darker now, and the last of the host is riding through, we must be going also.

Part Seven

Oh my poor legs, arms, and back. We have spent all day climbing stairs up the mountain. The first set went straight up the mountain, the higher we climbed, the more we clung to the steps in front of us. Always we had this black gaping hole behind us. I didn't dare look back and down. Couldn't have moved otherwise. I was so afraid of falling; if we had slipped we would never have survived to reach the bottom. We rested only a short while at the landing of that stair but since there was a longer winding stair ahead of us Gollum didn't let us rest there long. I thought my legs were going to give out they hurt so badly. Don't know how Frodo withstood it. We have reached the entrance to a tunnel; and there is an awful smell coming out of it. Frodo and I have found a slot to lie up in out of chill wind. Talked about how they would make up stories and sing about us after we got home. How he laughed. Gollum slunk off again while we were talking. I am afraid we are in for a bad day tomorrow. I fear he is laying an Orc-trap for us. There is nothing that resembles food up here, so he couldn't have gone off hunting. Frodo is resting quietly right now; guess he is too weary to even have bad dreams. My legs are to stiff and sore to move anywhere right now. I am so tired too; maybe if I just close my eyes for a moment I can doze lightly while I wait for Gollum to come back, nothing long, just for a mome...

How appropriate that it is black in this tunnel. It matches the color in my heart. Mr. Frodo is dead. There I said it, got it out. Oh dear the tears are running the ink of my journal. Curse them all, for bringing him to this point. Gollum with his foul plans and deeds. Elrond and Galadrial with there high and mighty talk of small hands doing deeds while the eyes of the great are elsewhere, talk of the smallest person changing the course of the world, and Gandalf who should never have left us. Oh dear me, I am angry, I am sad, I am afraid, I AM ALONE. What am I going to do? My best friend is dead. I do not wish to leave my vigil at his side. It was my vow. I won't leave you, I said. Maybe if I set it down in my journal it will help me cope with it. Ahh, but it hurts. Gollum led us into this foul tunnel and disappeared-well it was guarded alright-CURSE HIM-by a huge, hideous spider. The "She" in his debate so long ago-I guess. Frodo frightened her off (or so we thought) with Sting and Galadrial's glass (may she and Mr. Elrond forgive me for my anger at them earlier). Then he cut our way out of her webbed cage. It was there that Gollum grabbed me round the neck from behind and the spider stung Mr. Frodo in the neck. I was too slow to break free from Gollum. Is it my fault? If I had been quicker. If I kept out the light, would Gollum never have grabbed me? If, if, if. Alas, I will never know. How I wish I had broken my staff across Gollum's head instead of his back. I came upon her trying to drag Frodo back to that accursed crack of hers. Grabbing up Sting I fought her off- she's gone now, dead I hope. And Frodo-dear Frodo- after I cut the webs from around him-in him no breathe stirs- I will never be free of the pain. What do I do now, stay here and keep my vigil at his side as I promised, but no, someone must end this foul darkness that Sauron has spread across the lands. I must carry the ring, but where is this place, this crack of Doom as Frodo called it. Frodo saw the maps-he knew the way-the ring is his- WHY ME- oh dear, oh dear I can barely write through my tears let alone stand, walk, think. Come on Samwise: buck up lad. Breathe in-breath out. Okay! I will take the ring, throw it away, come back and see to Mr. Frodo. I will not let him stay here alone, unmourned and forgotten after the ring is destroyed. I will come back for him, I WILL. Okay Samwise enough talk, you've decided. And now I must be brief for Sting's blade is flickering about the edges. What a weight it is, how could Frodo have carried it this far? It makes my head bow, how will I be able to carry it. I must go now. Good-bye Frodo, my friend, Your Sam will come back for you. I WILL...

Part Eight

I don't know whether to cheer or cry. My dear Mr. Frodo is very much alive. Alas but I must hide; again, another orc patrol is passing by. So much has happened. Where to begin, I left Frodo lying there and took the hardest steps that I have ever take in my life. I started towards the end of the tunnel and was nearly at the entrance when an orc patrol came marching from the front and behind, I thought I was trapped, but then I remembered that the Ring would make me invisible if I put it on. Well I may have been invisible to the orcs but I was horribly visible to the Eye. I saw it and it still gives me the shivers. IT WAS HORRIBLE. A red fire-lipped-cats-eye was looking for me. In all my travels I have not experienced anything that resembles the fear I have of this Thing. It was far worse than any fear I had of the Black Riders. The Ring gives strange gifts besides invisibility, though my sight was dimmed, my hearing was sharpened and I could understand the orcs speech. Though that orc patrol didn't see me, they did find poor Mr. Frodo. OH WHY DID I LEAVE HIM LYING THERE? And it was during their arguments amongst themselves that I found out he was alive. Seems the spider doesn't kill its prey right away. GLORY AND TRUMPETS; I am happy for that, but they now have him. They took have taken him up into the tower that we saw at the end of the pass. How much time has passed since they have taken him with them, hours to be sure. I continuously have to play hide and seek with the orc patrols in these accursed tunnels. They seem to think I am some sort of Elf warrior. Ha. If they only knew. I should never have left Mr. Frodo. I knew it in my heart. Never, Never that was my vow. Now they have him. Will I ever get to the top of the tower that they have him in? Just when being invisible would be a good thing, I shant use the Ring again, already it speaks evil thoughts to me. No, no good will come from that direction. Oh dear, what would Gandalf have done. Fool. He wouldn't have left him; he wouldn't have made blind assumptions like I did. Oh dear. I hate waiting for these patrols to clear out.

There is some devilry a work in that tower. Orcs have been rushing in that direction for the last hour. This is the fourth, no fifth patrol to pass me by. All this hiding and sneaking is a wearisome task, and I haven't slept since yesterday when they took him. I will not rest until he has is safe again. I hear what sounds to be fighting, who would be attacking the tower? This could be my chance.

Well I made it to the top. Why I can't find him? Shagrat had Frodo's gear that much is certain. That had to be the bundle he was carrying, wrapped up in Frodo's elvish cloak. But where is he? I have been all over this level and there is no more stairs, all I can find are dead orcs. Was I just wasting time climbing all these stairs, instead of finding out where he really was? Do I go back down to the level where I first encountered Shagrat and search all the rooms from there upwards? Ahh me but I am so tired and afraid. And other than one other orc sneaking about, there seems to be nobody here. I hate being alone. Drat it all now I'm smearing my journal again.

Part Nine

It has been three days since my last journal entry. As Mr. Frodo sleeps I finally have a chance to reflect on the trials we are both been through. All the fears we have experienced and all that we are about to. I say it has been three days but I am not even sure about that. Day and night blur together under this darkness. Only the lessening of the murk above announces the arrival of the day. I found Mr. Frodo and that is the main thing. His battle with the spider and his subsequent capture by the orcs has left him both tired and in pain. He was whipped brutally by the orcs and stripped of everything: clothes, dignity, and happiness. My heartaches for what he had to go through those two days that I spent looking for him in the tower. I could not count the number of rooms I searched, always making my way to the top. That's where Shagrat said he would be. That's where he was; only I didn't know that it took a ladder to reach the room. I found him when I started singing, first snatches of Old Bilbo's songs and poetry, and finally a bit of a song I made up, I wonder what Mr. Bilbo will think of it. Poor Frodo. That only caused him to receive another whipping, but it did cause the orc to show me the way. And I have nothing to bind up the wounds with. I have never seen Mr. Frodo so depressed. I should never have left him alone. I will not make that mistake again. I think part of his depression came from the loss of the Ring. I feel the loss of it even though I only had it for four days. What would 18 years of the burden do to me? Or 60 years like Mr. Bilbo had. Would that I had their strength. Poor Frodo. He has changed so much during this journey, both physically and psychologically. We are both hungry and thirsty all the time. The little water we find is in trickles from the mountains. The cares are etched in to his face. He is no longer the person I knew from The Shire. The last time he attempted a joke was in the tower. Questioning me about inns in Mordor for two weary orcs.

Orcs. That's what we look like. Him, in his orc attire and me, in a cloak and helm we are quite the matching pair. He has thrown away the mail shirt I picked up for him. The weight of it and the Ring were just too much for him to bear. I dare not ask to bear the ring for him. To see myself reflected in his eyes is just too painful. All it does is causing him to react violently and then fills him with sorrow at the pain that he inflicts upon me with those looks. What a terrible thing this is, why did we allow ourselves to be chosen for this burden? How many miles are still to go? How many days will it take us, I wonder? And when we get there? How will we get home? Home. It's almost a dream now. But WE WILL MAKE IT BACK. I will see to that both of us if I have to carry him all the way back to Hobbiton. WE WILL GO HOME. I wish we could travel further each day, but we can only make maybe ten miles a day. We are both so tired. Will it hurt Mr. Frodo if I slept too? Would you look at that! A star. It has been so long since I have seen one. I had almost forgotten what they look like, how beautiful, how simple a single point of light in the darkness. I think, yes, I think I will get some sleep now. Good night Mr. Frodo.