Chapter 8 - The decision

Sam's gentle hazel eyes peered into the darkness. His breathing was uneven and though it had been more than an hour since their friends had fallen through the hole in the tunnel, he could still feel salty tears in the corners of his eyes. He shifted his position slightly as the rocky wall stuck into his back. Frodo stirred slightly in his troubled sleep, his head resting on Sam's shoulder.

Sam knew the disaster had been harder on Frodo than himself because of the responsibility he felt towards his cousins. Sam had tried to tell him that if they had left the young Took and Brandybuck at Rivendell, the two young Hobbits would have followed on their own anyway, but Frodo had not listened to him.

Aragorn sat opposite from the two Hobbits, his head resting on his hands and his grey eyes closed. Sam knew he was not asleep and was trying desperately to decide what was best to do next. Responsibility weighed heavily on him also, as the leader of the company since Gandalf's sudden departure Sam could see Aragorn blamed himself for what had happened.

Sam turned his head slightly and looked at the man on his other side. In the dark, if he had not known them intimately, Sam would have been hard pressed to tell Aragorn and Faramir apart. Both had deep eyes in which Sam always could see both care and wisdom and dark hair that reached past their shoulders. Both were of around the same height and build and to one who did not know them, they could have been considered brothers.

Sam listened to Faramir's quiet, regular breathing and relaxed slightly. The man was seated against the wall like himself, his head tilted back as he stared blankly at the ceiling. Although at first Sam had thought Faramir too quiet and secretive for his liking, always watching out for his master as usual, Sam now realised that it had just taken the man a while to judge the people around him so he could understand them better. This way of getting to know people was proven wise as now Faramir could talk with anyone in the company with ease, except perhaps Legolas to whom he did not seem to know what to say. He had discovered everyone's favourite topics of conversation and was able to make them relax.

Sam noticed Faramir had treated Gandalf differently from the rest, often content to sit quietly with him as the old wizard smoked his pipe. He did not seem to need to question Gandalf as he did with Merry and Pippin, telling them endless stories by request. He did not tease him as he did with Gimli and did not even talk about things they had in common which Sam was quite aware Faramir did with himself. It was as though they shared a silent understanding.

Faramir looked in Sam's direction and offered a reassuring smile. "How is Frodo?" he asked, gazing at the sleeping Hobbit.

"He's just plain tired out," Sam told him, "this business, well . . . it's taken its toll if you take my meaning, Sir."

"And yourself, Master Samwise? How are you?" Sam was surprised, he had not thought about himself.

"Well, Sir, what doesn't kill you can only make you stronger, as the Gaffer would say. Don't you worry yourself about me, though I'm a bit worried about Bill. How's he goin' to get over that great hole in the ground?" Faramir did not answer and Sam could see he was holding something back.

Faramir could not bear tell Sam they would have to leave Bill if they crossed the crevasse. Luckily at that moment Aragorn raised his strong care worn face, his dark sunken eyes pools of worry and remorse.

"As I see it," he said slowly, "we have three options. First, to attempt to jump the crevasse, second, to prepare ourselves for battle follow our friends into the darkness below, or third to turn back and hope to find another way. In my mind all choices seem ill, we jump and some of us may fall, we fall and risk bringing the ring into danger, we go back and waste time that could mean the lives of our friends, not even considering the fact there may not be another way."

"Perhaps we should take a vote," Sam suggested, "that way you won't have to decide on your own." Aragorn seemed grateful for the suggestion and after a moment's thought, he agreed.

"Should you wake Frodo?" Faramir asked Sam.

"He's in no fit condition to be worrying, perhaps we should let him rest and decide without him. Just the three of us."

"Alright Sam," Aragorn assented wearily, "what do you think?"

"Well, as Bill could never make the jump, nor could he follow us down the crevasse, I vote we turn back. I can't leave him to be eaten by the horrible creatures who live in the caves!"

Aragorn nodded, unsurprised. "I'm sorry Sam, but in my opinion it would be unwise to seek another path. Our friends may be in dreadful danger and time is valuable. I believe Bill would not wish us to sacrifice the lives of our friends' in his place."

Aragorn's face was pained when he saw Sam cringing at his words. Sam swallowed as if there was a lump in his throat and failed to speak. Faramir knew he was asking himself how could he ever just leave Bill in the dark after all they had been through together? His tearful brown eyes met Faramir's grey ones, pathetic hope reflected into the man's eyes.

"What is it to be, Faramir? I fear the choice is yours, to jump or turn back." Aragorn said quietly.

Faramir tried to ignore the Hobbit's desperate eyes that pleaded with him, those of Aragorn, his friend, his King. His heart was wrenched in two ways at once and taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and spoke, "I'm sorry . . . my Lord . . . I must agree with Sam . . ." the title came awkwardly as never before had he called Aragorn by anything other than his name. He wanted to be sure Aragron knew he had his respect and loyalty, it was so hard to go against his choice.

Aragorn's heavy hand was on his shoulder, "my friend, you chose what your heart told you was right. This you must not regret for I would not wish it. Then it is decided, we will turn back and seek another way."

A black webbed hand felt around in the blackness, his nose searching for a scent, his body searching for the feeling that drove him on. Perhaps it was an unconscious attraction, perhaps the dark emaciated creature did not know what he sought. Ignorant or otherwise, he followed his unnatural sense around the circular cave until he found something on the wall. A dark liquid covered a sharp out cropping of rock. He sniffed it and it brought back terrifying memories of the tall folk, their shining eyes piecing him, their horrible ropes and prisons that had held him. He sat shivering in the dark for some minutes, then reached out and touched the blood. He screeched as the dark liquid burned his skin.

"Cursses it! Nassty elveses blood . . " The smell was familiar, he knew the Elf whose blood now burned his black fingers. Other smells he knew as well, the grey man who had caught him by the dead marshes years and years ago. "We hatess them all we do . ." the creature hissed, a deep hate growing with his fear. He crept towards the tunnel opening and crept along the twisted passages.