Chapter 31: A Horrible Choice

Shelob reared up with her stinger and prepared to impale the two hobbits staring up at her, swords in hand. Ichor dripped from numerous stab wounds they had already made on the enormous creature that towered over them. Frodo’s left hand held Galadriels’ brilliantly lit phial. It was sticky with the insect’s blood and his arm was burned from what had splattered there. A small bit had burned Sam’s cheek as well, narrowly missing his eye. Still they fought on. A short distance back, Faramir and his Rangers fought fiercely with another wave of orcs. At long last, Frodo managed to get close enough to jab the bloated underside of the huge spider with the phial. That was too much for Shelob. She bucked and would have crushed Frodo under her weight, but he ducked out from under her, stabbing once more. She retreated back into one of the many holes in the labyrinth, to nurse her wounds, perhaps to die.

Before they could celebrate though, Sam heard a cry behind him and spun around just in time to see his master fall. "Frodo!" he cried and hurried over and knelt by the prone form. Frodo lay amidst much blood, but Sam saw after a moment’s panic, that much of it was ichor from the giant spider and by some ill fortune, his master had slipped in it and fallen. Frodo moaned as Sam lifted his friend’s head and checked for injuries. He saw a small amount of Frodo’s own blood seeping from a cut under filthy curls.

"Oh no, dear, no," Sam murmured, laying his friend’s head against his chest and stroking his cheek. "Wake up now, wake up for your Sam."

Tears streaked down Sam’s cheeks, making tiny, muddy rivlets down Frodo’s where they mixed with the dirt on his face. "Wake up, oh, please, wake up. You can’t leave me. You can’t go on ahead without me. Don’t go where I can’t follow."

Frodo was completely still. Sam continued his pleas until he noticed that Sting which Frodo had dropped in his fall was burning a brighter blue than before. And soon Sam heard footsteps coming from above. He had only a moment to decide what to do and he nearly panicked, but he reigned that in brutally. He looked desperately at Faramir and his men, but they still engaged in fighting orcs that continued to come from the opposite direction.

"If Shelob is done having her fun with the halfings," Sam heard one of the orcs say that was coming down the stairs, "they’re to be taken to the Eye."

Sam looked down at his master and his eye caught on the chain around his neck. He had no time to spirit Frodo away, but he did have time to take the Ring.

"What a horrible choice," he muttered as he gently lifted the chain from around his friend’s neck. He looked down at his beloved brother. "I hate more than anything that I have to choose the Ring over you, me dear, but I know you would never forgive me if it fell to the Enemy. I hope you can forgive me that I must let you fall instead." Sam bit his lip as he saw the chain he held had some of his master’s blood on it. "Oh, what a terrible, terrible choice!"

Frodo moaned as the Ring was removed from his chest and even though unconscious, his hands moved toward his throat to try to stop it from being taken. Sam caught them in his and kissed them.He looked up. The orcs were nearly upon him. With the Ring in one fist and Sting in his other hand, he quickly hid himself where he could still see his master. There was an air of unreality to the whole thing as Sam couldn’t quite believe what he was allowing to happen. But it was real, it was all too real.

The orcs entered the spider’s lair a moment later and eagerly noticed the small prone form before them. One of them leaned down and touched Frodo’s head, moving it roughly back and forth. The hobbit groaned and Sam bit his lip fiercely enough to bleed, barely able to restrain himself from leaping out to do battle. He could not restrain the tears that continued to streak down his cheeks as he watched Frodo be lifted up and carried up the stairs. A horrible howl filled the entire chamber as Sam felt like his heart was being torn out as he watched his dearest friend disappear.

"I’m coming, dear," he assured softly. "I’m coming. Just you hold on until your Sam can come and rescue you. If you can even stand to see him after all he let happen to you."

He felt then a powerful compulsion to put on the Ring, to disappear, and he was tempted for a moment, because he was sure he’d be found based on the cry his heart had made. But then he realized it was loud truly only in his own ears. He wouldn’t give into the Ring. His fist tightened around it. "Quiet you," he hissed with a violent hatred and anger that should have frightened him, but he was beyond feeling anything beside the pain in his heart. If he could have crushed the Ring in his grip right then, he would have, but all he did was cut bloody half-circles into his dirty palm. Slowly he released his grip and put the Ring around his neck. It bowed his head down, but he forced it back up. He retreated from his hiding place, looked around and caught Faramir’s eye and motioned that he was going up the stairs. The Ranger nodded. Sam clutched Sting tightly in his hand and went to find his master.

A/N: My thanks to my second oldest nephew, ‘Theodred’ , who gave me the idea of what to do with Shelob.