The black cloud that permeated from Mordor caused the failing sunlight to create long, menacing shadows and all around the land seemed to sigh with a depressing heave. The rich greens and browns had been muted and were a murky grey under the defused and sickly illumination that settled upon them. It distressed Sam to see nature capitulating to the malevolent disease that evil was weaving across Middle Earth.

But the shadow that swept across the land was nothing to the veil that had fallen over Frodo's spirit as the power of the ring did battle with his soul. Looking into Frodo's eyes Sam could see the essence of Frodo's being struggling to keep enough sanity to fulfil the task set for him in Rivendell. The ring was seducing Frodo with promises of power and glory and he was slowly slipping away. His resolve was wavering and the temptation of the small band of gold was weighing heavily on his mind. Sam could only hope that the radiance that emanated from his heart was enough to light the way for his love, to his goal and back again, to see the Shire, resplendent in all the colours of the rainbow.