You tried. You delivered Sam and Frodo to Shelob. And then the attack on Mount Doom where, even then, Sam spared you after you whined like a sissy boy:
'Don't kill us', he wept. 'Don't hurt us with nassty cruel steel! Let us live, yes, live a lttle longer. Lost lost! We're lost. And when Precious goes we'll die, yes, die into the dust!' He clawed up the ashes of the path with his long fleshless fingers. 'Dusst!' he hissed.
Smeagol the Pansy.