written for Marigolds challenge #3 which can be found here: http://www.livejournal.com/users/talechallenge03/

Samwise the Brave

Pure rage unlike anything Sam had ever known gave him the energy and stamina needed to throw his body up the steep, slippery stairs.  Just wait till he got his hands around that stinky little…villain’s… nasty little neck.  Even if Sam had just run all the way to Mount Doom, he would still have the energy to give the stinker exactly what he deserved. 

Sam stumbled to a stop a step away from the gaping darkness of the tunnel.  If he had known that the pause to gain some breath would calm his temper, Sam would have continued his hasty plunge into darkness.  As it was, his cool, hobbit sense reared its responsible head and Sam found himself thinking, as always, of Frodo.  The murderous traitor had Frodo within his grasp.  If Sam entered the situation rashly, he could make it worse.  He had an obligation to Frodo and if that included sparing Gollum, then so be it.  With more forgiveness than Sam thought he had the capacity for, he pulled his responsibility to Frodo to the forefront and let his bloodthirsty rage for Gollum slide down his list of priorities. 

With his new found calm, Sam looked to his next trial, feeling rather tall and ready for anything.  His levelness nearly foundered under the heavy darkness that emanated from the tunnel’s mouth.  All at once, he was a small hobbit again; one who’s will very nearly broke at the thought of venturing into that abyss.  His hands fumbled for any weapons as he forced his feet to step to the very brink of the darkness.  With his sword in one hand and one of his sturdy pots in the other, he took the first step. 

The next step was easier, and the step after that easier still.  Soon he was walking quickly and quietly in the way that only hobbits can, with his ears and eyes straining and the pot replaced on his pack to allow his hand to trail against the wall.  In the total blackness, where distance and size were difficult to judge, Sam began to feel tall again. 

A light glimmered at the end of the tunnel and Sam steered towards it.  It looked small and woeful against the huge darkness around him.    

Suddenly, something under his feet crunched as his hand encountered something sticky and extremely un-rock-like.  With a gasp, he snatched his hand away and stumbled back, brandishing his sword.  During the tense moments that followed, Sam wished his heart would stop beating so loudly.  It was difficult to hear something sneaking up on you with your pulse pounding in your ears.  Sam inched forward again, reaching out a cautious hand to the wall. 

Whatever it was, it felt sticky and slimy, and something indefinable that sent shivers up and down his spine.  It made him hope Frodo had not come this way.  He stepped forward again and cringed at the crunching.  He knew what scattered on the floor now.

This is no mine.  It’s a tomb.  Boromir’s voice echoed in his head as he took another shaky step.  His breath caught and he squinched his eyes shut tight.  The mines of Moria had been bad enough.  This was almost unbearable. 

Step.  Step.

Clink.

Sam’s eyes flew open and he froze.  Without actually moving, his eyes slid over to the right, to where the sticky, strangely luminous substance stretched across a gaping hole in the wall.  Was it a trick of the light, or a pair of eyes gleaming in the deep darkness?  His hand stretched slowly out and tore the sticky layer away.  It stuck to his fingers, adhered to his clothing and ensnared his sword, but Sam was trying to stretch his eyes into the darkness and did not spare it any thought.

Nothing. 

His pounding heart eased slightly.  He went to brush his forehead with his hand, but found that he could not pry it from his jacket.  Both hands were glued to his clothes and, with the sword snarled into the mess, Sam could tell it would be a trick to free them.  He pulled one hand away slowly and laboriously, wincing at the sound of ripping fabric. 

Quickly, he cleared the mess from his fingers as well as could be and picked despondently at his newly acquired rip in his coat. 

“Ma won’t like this one,” he sighed.  Though he was loath to risk ripping his clothing, there was really nothing for it.  Sam sighed again as he set his stance and gripped the sword.

“Samwise Gamgee, she’d say,” he muttered, “How many times do I have to tell you?”  He paused to peer suspiciously into the darkness.  “Bet she wouldn’t mind if she were here though,” he added, before turning his attention to the task. 

Sam gave a quick, hard jerk that freed both sword and hand and left him precariously unbalanced.  The sword slipped out of his grasp as he fell head over heels, tumbling among the skittering bones and leering skulls.  They covered him, as if to claim him as one of their own.  He kicked them away with a growl.  One skull went flying and Sam heard bones connect with bones.  Sam cast a slow, terrified glance up at the ceiling.  A skeleton wrapped in the same stickiness that covered everything in this cave shivered from the impact and came crashing down.  With a hoarse yell, Sam curled into a ball with his hands over his head and his head on his knees as the dry remains collapsed over him.

With a sound that was half sob, half scream of disgust, Sam flung himself onto his feet and stumbled away.

“What is this place?” he yelled with frustration and fear ringing clear in his voice, “It’s like a giant web!”  His voice echoed in the cave and his own accusation came back to him again and again as realization dawned.  A giant web.  Which meant…

“A giant spider,” he whispered, his eyes wide.  His legs threatened to melt at the thought.  “A giant…spider.”  His strength flowed away and he fell to his knees.  He was only a hobbit who loved sunshine and daisies.  What could he do against a giant spider?  Despair rolled over him through the darkness.  He would never be free of this hideous place.  He would be trapped here in the dark forever until the spider found him sitting like a fly.  If only he had some light!  Maybe then he could untangle this maze.

Light.  Even as he thought the word, his wish blossomed before his eyes, softly at first, but with growing intensity.  It revealed the dark rocks and old bones in all their disgusting glory, but Sam gave his attention to the blazing light and glint of metal that hung next to it.    

In a state of awed reverence, Sam staggered to his feet and fumbled forward, ignoring the stray bits of web that clung to his clothes and tangled his hair.  There it was.  He stumbled to a halt.  Sting hung suspended in front of him, caught in the strings of web.  The light shone next to it, like a star come to earth.  Gently, his grubby hand closed around the cool glass.  He watched in fascination as the brilliance made his hand appear like fire.  Here was the unraveling of the maze then.  Elvish light didn’t just up and saunter into spider caves on its own. 

Frodo.

Without a second thought, Sam grabbed the sword from the air and plunged forward, forcing his way through.  The original blaze of light dimmed slightly as Sam no longer needed it to find his way.  He rushed forward until he finally fell over a jagged rock and tumbled out of the tunnels.  After the deep darkness of the spider’s den, the murky half-light of the open air seemed like bright sunlight.  He scrambled to his feet, peeked around a nearby rock and nearly had his heart ripped from his chest.

The gigantic spider, so much larger than he imagined, hovered over a hobbit sized shape covered in her oversized webs.  Sam bit his lip as he tried to stifle a sob of fear and despair.  In his hand, he could feel the light welling up again to aid him in one of his darkest trials.

He swallowed his tears and forced his feet to take him into the small enclosure.

In that moment, Sam understood the heroes of the old stories, who did not fight because they were brave or tall, but because they had to and because they were not brave and not tall.  He gathered his strength, set his stance and brandished both sword and light.  The glass phial poured forth its brilliance, buffering him from the dark creature and lending him the courage he needed.

“Let him go, you filth!”