The air was burning around him as lava poured metres below the outcropping of stone. Sam watched in horrified fascination as Gollum seemingly wrestled with air, but he knew for a fact it was only Frodo, who had taken the Ring.
The Hobbit had no idea why, why now of all times Frodo had succumbed to the will of the Ring. It had totally and completely consumed him, and this was the result. And, yet, he found he could do nothing but sit and gape, open mouthed.
His thoughts were brought to a halt by the heart rending scream that penetrated his ears and floated above the sound of the lava beneath. He saw Frodo now, cradling his hand while Gollum danced in joy behind him.
Quite obviously the vile creature had triumphed, with the Ring, his precious, as his reward. Frodo had tears streaming down his cheeks, as he sobbed over the loss of his finger, and the loss of the Ring, which had fleetingly been his.
Before Sam could rise to his feet, maybe to comfort Frodo, maybe to run Gollum though with Sting, Frodo stopped his tears and looked up, a maniacal light in his blue eyes, making him look almost possessed. And maybe he was.
The Baggins heir started toward Gollum purposefully, the said being ignoring the Hobbit as he danced and whooped with delight. He made a grab for the Ring, and the two struggled to gain the upper hand, to acquire control of the Ring, to be crowned victor and righteous possessor of that small yet powerful trinket. And they continued this duel, until they both toppled over the edge, straying too close.
"No!" Sam shouted, but it was too late. He hurried to the edge nonetheless, and heaved an enormous sigh of relief at seeing Frodo hanging there, looking for all the world like he was going to let go. Gollum, he saw, was falling, falling, falling…
And he hit the lava, the Ring balancing precariously on his outstretched hand. 'Soon it would be destroyed,' he thought. 'Soon that blasted Ring will be destroyed and Mr. Frodo will be normal again and Middle-Earth will be saved.' He reached out a hand to pull up said Mr. Frodo when the inexplicable happened.
The screech of the Ringwraith almost burst his eardrums in the confines of Mount Doom as it rode atop the Fell Beast. Using its powers, it somehow summoned the Ring to its hand.
Sam knew he would have fallen to his knees if he wasn't already kneeling.
The Fell Beast (By the Gaffer, how could this thing fly in a volcano?) manoeuvred its way so it was level with Sam. The Hobbit closed his eyes and hoped that the pain would be fleeting.
But all he felt was the claws of the Beast enclose him, and he opened his eyes in shock, only to see that he was airborne, with Mr. Frodo gripped in the other foot or hand, clawed nonetheless.
And with the air rushing around him and the blood going to his head from hanging upside down, he could hardly tell where they were going, but gut feeling told him it would not be pretty.
He was let go, suddenly, and he fell to a marble floor with a scream he could not contain. Sam was immediately bound tightly in strong and rough rope that cut into his skin, and a dirty gag was stuffed into his mouth when he opened it to cry out again. He was trussed up like a turkey, so to speak, like the many fowls he himself had tied and killed for Yule.
Frodo had not been treated as such, no, instead of ropes binding him, Frodo was held back by a single hand on his shoulder. It was a Ringwraith gripping him, and on his stabbed shoulder nonetheless. The Hobbit still had that maniacal glint in his eyes, but was clearly in pain.
The Witch King, after alighting from his Fell steed, held the Ring in a clenched fist (As much as a hand lacking muscle and sinew could be a fist). The head Ringwraith took a big windup that would be associated with baseball, had the game existed in that world, and let fly.
The Ring of Power hit the Great Eye, Sauron, square in the middle.
There was a loud "OW!" a pink poof of smoke, and a thud. As the final tendrils of smoke cleared, Sam gasped, or would have gasped if there wasn't a gag stuffed into his mouth. But I digress.
And, in a voice that echoed throughout the whole of Middle Earth, chilling blood of all creatures, Sauron, the self-proclaimed lord, said:
"I WON, I WON, NEENER, NEENER, NEE-NERRR!"