Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings is owned by J.R.R. Tolkien, his family, New Line Cinema, etc. I have written this fic for my own enjoyment (and, hopefully, yours too).

Summary: The End of Days is finally come. But whose ..?

A double-Droubble and a half (450 words - again. Sorry …)

Chapter Fifteen: Doom

Quick as a flash, Sam spun violently around. There was a rip of fabric as his shirt split and he saw a tattered strip of material dangling from fetid grey teeth. Above the beast, a Nazgûl leaned forward, hand outstretched. Without thinking, Sam raised the Star-glass and threw the remaining liquid at his attacker. Water soared through the air, splashing straight into the hood of the hissing Nazgûl and dribbling down onto the fell beast's back.

The effect was instantaneous.

Piercing cries rent the chamber. Rider and mount bucked into the air before crashing against the two beasts behind them, landing several feet away in a tangle of robes and wings. Thick, grey smoke rose from hood and flesh, rising in furious coils and melting into the ash clouds swirling throughout the Sammath Naur. Servant and steed thrashed spastically on the ground, consumed in throes of agony.

Whether they perished or not, Sam couldn't say: there was no time left to stand and watch. The remaining Nazgûl were closing in fast - and looking none too pleased at what he'd done to their friend!

Closing his ears to their vengeful hisses, Sam shoved the empty phial into his tunic pocket, turned smartly about, and threw himself bodily at the tarnished Ring. He snatched it from the dirt and scrabbled to his feet just as Frodo made one final, feeble grab for his Precious.

The motion was futile: Sam already stood at the very brink of the chasm.

Desist! screamed the Ring in his mind, but its voice sounded strange now: rougher, coarser …

Vulnerable.

Suddenly he realised what wrath had been visited upon it: though the Water of Light could not destroy it, it had temporarily weakened Sauron's gem.

It was a small comfort to Sam - but only small; there was naught to say the Dark Lord couldn't repair the damage that had been done to it, if it were delivered to him still.

As for what he would do to Sam and Frodo for their parts in its injury …

Reflect on the power you might hold! rasped the Ring, intruding on his thoughts. Samwise Gamgee, Most Honoured Gardener of Middle-Earth!

But its words were no more than the desperate treaties of a doomed foe.

He clasped it tightly in his fist, feeling the perfect symmetry of it one last time before raising his arm. With a twist of his head, his gaze landed on the speeding Nazgûl now less than ten feet away.

"The Ring! The Ring!" they chanted in unison.

"If you as wants it, then go and get it!"

And without further ado, he flung it with all his strength into the burning abyss below.

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Author's Note: Gosh, I really hope I haven't portrayed Sam as some sort of super-hobbit. I had intended to have Frodo chuck the Ring into the pit, but given his current incapacitation, and the fact that he was unable to do so himself in canon, it seemed slightly bizarre for him to do so here.

I have no idea what the effect the Light of Eärendil might have on either the Ring or the Nazgûl, so anything I've came up with is pure speculation. Hopefully good speculation though …

*sheepish smile*

Just a few more chapters and then finito, folks. My brain needs the rest after this mad writing frenzy …

Kara's Aunty ;)