return

1230 the return of the king
no passing hour, bringing no change. Sam began to wonder
if a second darkness had begun and no day would ever
reappear. At last he groped for Frodo’s hand. It was cold and
trembling. His master was shivering.
‘I didn’t ought to have left my blanket behind,’ muttered
Sam; and lying down he tried to comfort Frodo with his arms
and body. Then sleep took him, and the dim light of the last
day of their quest found them side by side. The wind had
fallen the day before as it shifted from the West, and now it
came from the North and began to rise; and slowly the light
of the unseen Sun filtered down into the shadows where the
hobbits lay.
‘Now for it! Now for the last gasp!’ said Sam as he struggled
to his feet. He bent over Frodo, rousing him gently. Frodo
groaned; but with a great effort of will he staggered up; and
then he fell upon his knees again. He raised his eyes with
difficulty to the dark slopes of Mount Doom towering above
him, and then pitifully he began to crawl forward on his
hands.
Sam looked at him and wept in his heart, but no tears came
to his dry and stinging eyes. ‘I said I’d carry him, if it broke
my back,’ he muttered, ‘and I will!’
‘Come, Mr. Frodo!’ he cried. ‘I can’t carry it for you, but
I can carry you and it as well. So up you get! Come on, Mr.
Frodo dear! Sam will give you a ride. Just tell him where to
go, and he’ll go.’
As Frodo clung upon his back, arms loosely about his neck,
legs clasped firmly under his arms, Sam staggered to his feet;
and then to his amazement he felt the burden light. He had
feared that he would have barely strength to lift his master
alone, and beyond that he had expected to share in the dreadful
dragging weight of the accursed Ring. But it was not so.
Whether because Frodo was so worn by his long pains,
wound of knife, and venomous sting, and sorrow, fear, and
homeless wandering, or because some gift of final strength
was given to him, Sam lifted Frodo with no more difficulty