Chapter 21: The Taming of Gollum

Murmured words woke Sam from his sleep the first night after they had parted from the Fellowship. He looked over at Frodo who was laying on his side. At first Sam thought his master was talking in his sleep, but in the moonlight, he could that Frodo eyes were wide open, staring at what Sam did not know. One fist was tightly clenched around the Ring.

“There is no hope,” Frodo said, his voice strange and distant. “No hope.”

Sam touched his shoulder. “No, my dear, there’s always hope,” he protested, but Frodo showed no sign of having heard him.

“He knows we’re coming. The Eye is ever watching. He sees us. He is waiting, waiting. We are going towards our doom.”

“No, we are going toward his doom and he knows that,” Sam insisted.

“No hope,” Frodo said over and over again, softly to himself in his trance-like state.

Sam did not want to even guess what his master was looking at, but all the same he wanted to be there with him. He gently pried Frodo’s fingers from around the Ring and took his hand into his own instead. Frodo’s hand was cold. Sam wrapped both of his around his master’s until it warmed, then still holding Frodo’s hand in one hand, he began to gently stroke the Ring-bearer’s forehead and curls with the other. “Sleep, dear, sleep.”

As he murmured a soft lullaby, Frodo’s voice trailed off and his eyes closed. Sam looked up at the clouds. Something seemed to pass between them and the moonlight and the younger hobbit shivered. Was his master right? Were they being watched? An unnatural sound in the night, far off, made him jump. Frodo didn’t move. He had passed into true sleep, his breathing even. Sam stayed awake as long as he could, guarding his master from the creature he figured they’d be meeting soon enough.Too soon, he thought as he protectively gathered Frodo into his arms and finally nodded off. He was startled awake several times during the night, but straining his ears and squinting into the darkness revealed nothing. Frodo continued to sleep deeply the entire night.

* * *
Sam saw the creature loping across the plain toward him. It was nearly bald, only a dozen or so long dark hairs streamed from its head. Whip scars criss-crossed its entire body - neck, back, chest, arms, legs. There was a scar from a stab wound on its left shoulder and another on one of its legs. As the creature got closer, he could hear it babbling to itself.

“I had it and he took it. He stole it. It was mine. He shouldn’t have taken it. I tried to get it back, but he wouldn’t give it back. He should give it back. It’s mine. It’s not his. It’s mine. I tried to get it back so many times but he hurt me. He hurt me. He hurt!” The last was an anguished cry as the emaciated creature stopped and raised itself to its full height and arched its back in remembered agony before it started on its way again. “Must go back. Must get it back. It’s mine. He took it. He shouldn’t have. It’s mine.”
Sam called out to it and it stopped and looked at him. Recognition flickered deep within its sunken eyes as its shattered mind tried to figure out why the person before it was crying. “Sam.....?” it said.

Sam woke abruptly as he felt someone shaking him. He looked into his master’s concerned eyes and sat up almost too quickly. A smile broke out on his face as he ran his hand over Frodo’s full head of thick, curly hair and saw that his eyes were clear and focused. He didn’t seem to be aware of anything unusual from earlier. “You’re you,” Sam cried happily.

Frodo looked at him confused. “Of course I’m me, Sam. Who else would I be?”

Sam pushed up one of his master’s sleeves, then the other and almost burst out laughing when he saw smooth, unmarked skin. “Bless you, you’re all right!” he cried and hugged him, tears of joy in his eyes.

Frodo hugged him back, getting more confused all the time. “Yes, quite all right, my Sam,” he assured. He held Sam back a bit and held him by the arms. “Are you all right?”

“I haven’t failed you then,” Sam said.

“No, of course not, dear Sam. I know you never will. What kind of dream were you having?”

The gardener’s smile faded and he gripped his master’s arms a little tighter. “Oh, it was terrible, dear, just terrible. You had taken the Ring and disappeared. I couldn’t find you. I called out to you, over and over again, but you wouldn’t answer. I stayed around for days, but you never came back. I finally returned to the Shire and Mr. Merry and Mr. Pippin and I went looking for you, but we didn’t know where to. When we returned, I tried so hard to live again, without you, but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. I left again, trying to find you. I finally did. That’s when I woke up.”

This time when Sam looked up at Frodo, the tears were of pain and fear. “I’m so afraid, my Frodo. I’m so afraid I am going to fail you and you’ll become as sorry a sight as that Gollum. Please don’t let that happen. Please...”

Frodo took Sam back into his arms and held him as he cried. “I’m very afraid I will fail you, Sam,” he said, “but I know you won’t fail me. I know you won’t let me go.”

Sam looked up at him, tears streaming down his cheeks. “But what if you let me go?”

Frodo wiped his tears, then placed his head back down against him and rocked him gently. “Then, my dearest hobbit, you will hold on to me even tighter. I have faith in you, my guardian. It’s the only thing that is keeping me going. You won’t let me fall.”

Frodo continued to hold his beloved Sam while he murmured one of the lullabies he had heard his friend sing to him in Rivendell.
“Sleep now, brother most dear,
Close your weary eyes;
Soon night will be o’er,
And the sun shall rise.
Fear not, for I am nigh
To dry all your tears.

“Sleep now, and when you wake,
I will be here.
Rest now, brother mine,
Do not be afraid;
All the dark night through
Beside you I will stay.
Lie still, safe in my arms,
While I my vigil keep;
I’ll be here when you wake.”

He continued to sing until Sam stopped crying and fell back asleep. Frodo wiped at the last of his tears, then with his arms still encircling his friend, the Ring-bearer slept again himself.

The next morning as they negotiated their way through the Emyn Muil, they stole glances at each other, checking on one another’s spirits. Sam watched his master also for any trouble with his leg for it was hard going at times, but Frodo did not show signs of flagging. When their glances met, they both smiled.

“It’s going to be all right.”

“I know.”

Frodo gazed around him later in the afternoon. It was around here that they had met Smeagol. He knew from Sam’s glances and deepening frowns that his friend realized it as well and wasn’t looking forward to it, but Frodo felt anticipation, even longing to see Smeagol again in his desire to succeed this time in saving him. He stopped abruptly several times during the day to look and listen, seeing something out of the corner of his eye he thought. “Smeagol?” he called out each time, but not even the wind moved. They continued on until evening, Frodo hoping that Smeagol would come to them on his own and Sam dreading that he would. Nothing happened however and the two hobbits settled down to sleep.

* * *
The gangly creature crawled slowly toward the two sleeping hobbits. “It’s ours,” it hissed. “And we wants it. They can’t have it. Not again. It’s ours.”

Gollum launched himself at Frodo who instantly awakened and fought to keep the creature’s hands from the Ring. Sam grabbed him from behind and held him despite the enormous struggle Gollum put up. He cried out in pain when the former hobbit bit down on his hand, but redoubled his hold, instead of releasing it.

Frodo looked at him in concern, but Sam only nodded and Frodo returned his gaze to the struggling creature, regarding him with compassion and pity. He didn’t draw Sting, didn’t even put his hand on his sword, much as Sam had begged him to earlier. “You know what he can do,” Sam had protested. “We’ve got to be prepared.”

“We will be, Sam,” Frodo had assured.

Frodo looked at the enraged creature now who slowly settled down as his former self responded to the calm and sympathy that flowed so strongly from the other. His eyes cleared. “Master?” Smeagol asked.

“Yes, Smeagol,” Frodo said softly. “Master is here.”

“And the Precious?”

The longing in Smeagol’s voice almost broke Frodo’s heart. “Yes, the Precious is here also. I need your help again to get it to Mordor.”

The creature’s eyes narrowed and Gollum reasserted itself. “No! You would destroy the Precious! We won’ts lets you! We woulds destroy you first!”

Frodo did not hesitate to answer, keeping his voice calm and his gaze unwavering, though Sam tightened his grasp and wished he could just run the creature through. “Yes, Smeagol,” Frodo said, well aware of Sam’s feelings, “I am on my way to destroy it, to free us both from this burden. Don’t you want to be free?”

The former hobbit’s features changed again and a hurt, hopeful Smeagol stared back. “Free?” he murmured in wonder. When had he been free last? He remembered now. Master had freed him, before betraying him, but that nasty fat hobbit said Master hadn’t meant as a betrayal. Smeagol was so confused, but he looked at Frodo with almost childlike trust. He did so want to be free.

“Yes, Smeagol,” Frodo continued softly, still looking into the creature’s eyes, trying to convey all his desire to save him. “Free. No longer as a slave to darkness, but living in the light and the fresh air.”

Smeagol looked a little fearful at that. “We don’ts likes the bright light. It burns us.”

“You don’t like it because the darkness hates it. It fears it, too, because it cannot rule it or conquer it. But Smeagol, once you are free, the light can live in you again. The darkness will be gone.”

Smeagol looked up with hope and longing. Frodo was loathe to betray it and hoped he never would. Not again. He held out his hand and Smeagol took it. He nodded at Sam to release their captive and Sam did so very reluctantly.

Gollum hissed at Sam and Sam was very tempted to respond in kind, but restrained himself out of respect and love for his master. When Frodo went back to sleep, his hand clasped around his shirt where the Ring lay on its chain underneath, the two enemies glared at each other.

“Let’s get one thing straight right from the beginning,” Sam said. “Nothing has changed from last time. I’m keeping an eye on you. If you do anything to harm him, even if you look at him the wrong way, I will strangle your scrawny little neck with my bare hands. Understand?”

Gollum hissed loudly, but Smeagol shrunk against the angry words and leaned closer to his master. “We wouldn’ts hurts Master for the world,” he assured Sam fervently. “We loves Master.”

“But we don’t loves you,” Gollum said.

“Well, I don’t loves you either,” Sam retorted. “But I do love my master and that’s the only thing that’s keeping you alive at this point. But even that won’t help you if you hurt him, either of you,” he said pointedly, seeing Gollum’s glare behind Smeagol’s timid look.

Sam started to say something further, then thought better of it. He laid back on the ground and wrapped his cloak tight around him and glared at Gollum. He wished he could tie the despicable creature up, but he knew that would get him nowhere. The howling that would cause would wake Frodo who desperately needed his sleep and would only insist that the rope be removed. Sam trusted and loved his master with all his heart, but he wondered if Gollum would drive them apart again or even worse, try to kill Frodo in his lust for the Ring. He was determined not to let that happen, to keep a watchful eye out all the time, but he was asleep before he knew it.

“You can go now,” Smeagol said to Gollum. “We don’ts needs you anymore. Master has come back.”

“He’s come back to destroy the Precious, to destroy us!” Gollum hissed.

Smeagol shook his head. “No. Master would not do that. He is our friend. Master loves us.”

“He betrayed us! Or have you forgotten that?”

“Did not! But nasty fat hobbit says he didn’ts mean to.”

“And you believed that?” Gollum jeered. He pointed at Sam. “That one hates us.”

Smeagol cringed under Gollum’s tirade, but would not be completely cowed. “Then why be kind to us?” he responded with the bravery he had only when Master was near. “No, leave us now. Master will takes cares of us. He will free us.”

“Free us from the Precious!” Gollum insisted. “Is that what you want?”

“Leave us!” Smeagol cried out. “We wants to be free!”

Gollum snarled very loudly, frightening Smeagol badly. He cowered closer to his master, covered his ears and squeezed his eyes shut. Then after a little while, very cautiously, he opened them again and looked around. It was silent outside.

And inside.

Sam looked up from his place. “If you’ve got to talk to yourself, do it more quietly,” he grumbled.

Smeagol ignored him. He looked around some more, then danced around. “Smeagol is free!” he crowed over and over again.

“Great,” Sam muttered. “Glad to hear it. Now go to sleep.”

He was amazed when the creature actually paid attention to him and did as he asked.

“Free, free,” Smeagol murmured to himself as he fell asleep at his master’s side.

Too bad we can’t also be free of you, Sam thought and fell back to sleep himself.

A/N: That wonderful lullaby is Queen Galadriel’s with a little modification of my own since this time it’s Frodo singing it instead of Sam.