As did Gollum, who stood even more wretchedly (if possible) than ever before, his bulging eyes staring into the gaping hole where the Ring had disappeared just a moment before beneath the boiling magma.
"My Precious!" he wailed in despair, "Poor, poor, Smeagol. What have those fools done to you, my Precious?"
Unable to contain his grief, the pitiful creature leapt forward over the precipice and dived after the Ring.
"Well that's killed two birds with one stone," muttered Sam showing no remorse, "and while we're on the subject, answers those nasty rumours that have been circulating about poor Master Frodo and the demise of certain wretched speciman."
"Talking of which," enquired Gandalf with a stern eye cast upon Frodo, "How come you still had the ring in your possession when you told us all you had already cast it into the Cracks of Doom?"
If anything, Frodo suddenly appeared even more wretched than Gollum had a moment before.
"My Precious!" he wailed in despair, "Poor, poor, Frodo. What have those fools done to you, my Precious?"
Also unable to contain his grief, he too leapt over the precipice to join Gollum in the boiling magma.
"No, Master Frodo, My Precious!" wailed Sam, unable to contain his grief.
Before he too could leap to his certain death, however, a terrible, evil laughter rose from the fiery pit. Flames began to rise higher, coalescing into a manlike form as the pit began to close beneath them.
"Call yourselves wise?" the fiery figure mocked the crowd. "Fancy falling for that old Cracks of Doom illusion. My granny wouldn't have fallen for that one."
Laughing still, Sauron, for indeed it was the Dark Lord himself, placed the Ring, His Ring, on his finger.
"Now, bow down before me!" he demanded of those cowering before him. "And while you're about it, get out of my pockets..."
Burying his hands deep within them, he pulled forth like magic, both Gollum and Frodo. Which appeared the more wretched is open for debate....