Title: The Pledge
Pairing: Frodo/Sam
Rating: PG now, higher in future chapters
A/N: This is a fic of many firsts for me- my first fic of any kind for 9 months, my first piece of slash, and, most importantly, my first LOTR fic. As such, I'm trying to get used to the huge amount of effort necessary to keep a fic accurate in a world as precise as Tolkien's. I may end up mixing movie and book versions, a plan that pains me deeply but from which I can currently find no recourse if the story is to follow its planned plot. At any rate, this chapter is book-based. If I accidentally slip something non-book in there, please correct me. This fic starts at the line "An exclamation of dismay came from the empty boat", when Sam is sinking into the River Anduin in pursuit of Frodo. If you haven't read 'em, be warned that the movie and book differ in several respects during this scene, the most important difference being the fact that Frodo still has the ring on as he's paddling away.
Reviews: Please... Don't stop...Oh, yes, YES! (Reviews aren't the next best thing, they ARE the best thing : P )
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, but they own me.
Chapter 1
Frodo was sure that his heart had stopped. He paddled frantically back towards the spot where Sam had sunk, following the ripples that turned a bit of the river into the gaping mouth of a vengeful serpent, bent upon swallowing his beloved whole. It seemed to take a year to navigate his sluggish canoe back to Sam, but he finally made it and plunged his arm into the waters of the Anduin, icy in the February chill. To Frodo's immense relief, his hand closed almost at once upon Sam's golden curls, which, accompanied by the young gardener's head, were soon above the surface of the river. Frodo's gasps (he was sure that he hadn't breathed since Sam went under) echoed Sam's as the latter struggled to rid his lungs of water. Frodo ached with pain at seeing his Sam so afraid, and for the millionth time he cursed the evil luck that had taken them both away from their comfortable, safe life in the Shire.
Frodo managed somehow to keep from bursting out in passionate endearments and keep his voice serious and steady, maintaining as always the thin layer of formality between himself and his servant. "Up you come, Sam my lad!" he said, extending his other hand to where Sam's churned the river's surface. "Now take my hand!"
"Save me, Mr. Frodo! I'm drowned!"
Sam's voice sounded small and slightly childish, and for the first time in many days Frodo remembered the age difference between them. But the smile that might have curled Frodo's lips was curbed by his fear and bitterness as he remembered the fate of his parents, who had gone to their deaths in a river much smaller and less threatening than this one. Sam's next words broke Frodo's reverie-- "I can't see your hand!" Frodo had forgotten that the ring was on his finger, a fact that frightened him immensely. But there was no time to take it off just yet; Sam couldn't swim, and Frodo would die rather than lose him, lose his Sam whom he had desired and, as he had later admitted to himself, loved since the younger hobbit was barely more than a lad. Reaching so far that he almost fell himself, Frodo finally managed to get a hold on Sam's wrist.
"Here it is. Don't pitch, lad!" A hint of annoyance crept into Frodo's voice at Sam's continued thrashing; he was only barely maintaining his hold on Sam's arm. "I won't let you go." That sentence had meant much more than its surface value, and Sam realized it if the look that crept over his face was anything to judge by. Frodo quickly snapped back to his businesslike tone. "Tread water and don't flounder, or you'll upset the boat. There now, get hold of the side, and let me use the paddle."
It took a struggle to bring the boat to shore with Sam upsetting its balance, but the range of Sam's jump hadn't been a long one and it wasn't more than a few paddles to reach the western shore. He leapt nimbly from the canoe and slipped the ring off his finger, returning it to its chain around his neck and feeling as though a tremendous weight had been lifted from him. Sam, startled by his master's sudden reappearance, slipped back into the river with a splash. Laughing, Frodo bent over, took Sam's hands and pulled him up, watching the water as it slid down Sam's form, following with his eyes the progression through the golden curls, down over shoulders, chest, hips, legs.....
Frodo blushed and quickly looked up into Sam's face, suddenly aware of just how close they were standing, and of the still entwined hands between them. The ringbearer quickly stepped back, but, keeping his eyes on Sam's face, noted a look of something like disappointment cross his companion's features. 'Is it possible?' Frodo's mind enquired with wonder. This hadn't been the first time Frodo had guessed that Sam's feelings for him were less innocent than the gardener let on. Frodo had one very dim memory of his early time in Rivendell. As he lay, feverish and shivering, he though he saw and felt Sam, who sat beside his bed, take Frodo's hand and cradle it, caressing it with his lips and cheek [1]. In the past, Frodo had dismissed the episode as a pleasant dream. But he hadn't had any pleasant dreams while under the power of the ringwraiths...
Frodo had to know, had to test his newfound hope as best he could. Walking around Sam, he put his hands around his friend's shoulders to pull the sopping cloak from his back. Frodo intentionally stood nearer than was necessary, pressing against Sam slightly, but kept his tone light when he spoke.
"Of all the confounded nuisances you are the worst, Sam!" Frodo said this so teasingly that it would be impossible for Sam to take his words seriously.
"Oh, Mr. Frodo, that's hard!" Frodo and Sam caught the innuendo at the same moment, but Frodo turned quickly away to hang Sam's cloak on the jutting prow of the little boat and to give Sam a moment to catch himself. "That's hard, trying to go without me and all," Sam clarified hurriedly. A note of pain bent into Sam's tone as he added, "If I hadn't a guessed right, where would you be now?"
The reasoning behind Sam's question, the unspoken assertion that Frodo couldn't take care of himself, struck a wrong chord in the Baggins. He replied, with a sleight undercurrent of anger in his tone, "Safely on my way."
"Safely! All alone and without me to help you?" Frodo snapped open his mouth, ready to point out that, as the elder of the two, he was sure that he could take care of himself, thank you. But Sam's next words stopped him dead-"I couldn't have a borne it, it'd have been the death of me."
All thoughts of anger fled from Frodo's heart. "It would be the death of you to come with me, Sam, and I could not have borne that," Frodo murmured, stepping near to Sam enveloping his love's hands in both of his own.
"Not as certain as being left behind," Sam's eyes burned into Frodo's, and again it was as though the ringbearer had forgotten how to breathe. He wanted more than anything to lean into those soft lips; many, many imaginings had convinced him of exactly how a kiss from Sam would taste and feel, and Frodo longed beyond words to test his fantasies. But Sam had to make the choice of whether or not to follow his friend himself-Frodo had to give Sam the chance to escape the doom and terror towards which it was Frodo's path to flee.
"But I am going to Mordor." Frodo knew that he could have worded his statement far more strongly, could have tried harder to make Sam understand what he was risking. But losing his Sam, especially now, was hardly something that Frodo wanted.
Sam smiled, sadly but gently, and said softly, "I know that well enough, Mr. Frodo. Of course you are." He dropped Frodo's hands and stepped back, looking down as he said, "And I'm coming with you."
The reluctance that Frodo perceived in Sam's tone hurt Frodo deeply. He knew that if there was even the slightest doubt in Sam's heart, it wasn't fair to bring him along on this quest, but if Sam wasn't with him then the journey hardly seemed worth traveling. Frodo let his pain and fear slip into his voice as he said, "Now Sam, don't hinder me!"
Sam's immediate and pained reaction weakened Frodo's resolve, but he had to be absolutely sure that Sam was ready. So he continued, "The others will be coming back at any minute. If they catch me here, I shall have to argue and explain, and I shall never have the heart or chance to get off. But I must go at once. It's the only way."
To Frodo's complete surprise, Sam broke into a grin at his words. "Of course it is, but not alone," Sam replied as he wrung out his wet weskit and turned back to the boats to apply the same treatment to the elven cloak that Frodo had pulled off of him. Turning back towards Frodo, he looked him straight in the eye and said in an unusually serious tone, "I'm coming too, or neither of us isn't going. I'll..." Sam eyes roamed the campsite, searching for an appropriate threat, his smile returning as he playfully threatened, "I'll knock holes in all the boats first!"
Frodo laughed for what seemed the first time in an age. "Leave one," he said, with the broad grin he now wore slipping into his tone, "We'll need it."
A moment later, Frodo found himself unexpectedly enmeshed in a pair of strong arms. He was quite unsure whether it had been him or Sam who initiated the hug, but it didn't really seem to matter. Frodo leaned close, caring not at all about the sudden dampness of his clothes as he leaned against Sam's still dripping form. How could he have possibly contemplated leaving without his Sam? He needed Sam's deep, unconditional friendship more than anything.
Still smiling, Frodo reluctantly pulled away, adding, "But you can't come like this without your gear or food or anything."
"Just hold on a moment, and I'll get my stuff!" Sam was already bounding away as he spoke, calling vaguely over his shoulder as he took up his pack, "It's all ready. I thought we should be off today." From the obvious enthusiasm in Sam's voice, it would have been easier to believe that he was setting off on a picnic in the Shire than on a dangerous mission to the dark lands.
Feeling rather useless next to Sam's determined bustle, Frodo turned to clamber awkwardly into the elfin canoe, which rocked and shook with his weight. 'It's unbalanced now,' though Frodo. 'But when Sam is here with me, I imagine it'll do just fine.' The thought filled Frodo with joy, but also brought more solemn thoughts. 'I have to tell him,' Frodo decided, 'he has to know how much I love him.'
Sam's struggle to get himself and his heavy pack into the canoe broke Frodo's reverie, and he reached his hand out to help the gardener up. "So, my plan is spoilt! It is no good trying to escape you," Frodo said aloud, letting some small part of his true thoughts slip into his choice of words. "But I'm glad, Sam. I cannot tell you how glad." A small, sweet smile slipped onto Frodo's lips, and he squeezed Sam's hands before releasing them. "Come along! It is plain that we were meant to go together. We will go, and may the others find a safe road! Strider will look after them." Frodo's smile stayed in place, but his eyes were sad as he added, "I don't suppose we shall see them again."
Sam slipped his pack off his back and onto the bottom of the canoe, taking his paddle in hand. "We may yet, Mr. Frodo," Sam said, turning back to his master. "We may."
Frodo lifted his own paddle, and without another word the two companions began to paddle away, towards Mordor and their destinies.
_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*
A/N: Well, this covers only about half of the content that was supposed to be in the first chapter, but I've already spent an obscene amount of time (6+ hours) on this, and if I try to write any more before posting SOMETHING I'll drive myself nuts. The next chapter should arrive pretty soon, since that one won't be set inside a Tolkien scene so I won't have to work around his dialogue. The title, by the way, will be explained in the next chapter. Please review, input concerning the next parts would be adored!
Pairing: Frodo/Sam
Rating: PG now, higher in future chapters
A/N: This is a fic of many firsts for me- my first fic of any kind for 9 months, my first piece of slash, and, most importantly, my first LOTR fic. As such, I'm trying to get used to the huge amount of effort necessary to keep a fic accurate in a world as precise as Tolkien's. I may end up mixing movie and book versions, a plan that pains me deeply but from which I can currently find no recourse if the story is to follow its planned plot. At any rate, this chapter is book-based. If I accidentally slip something non-book in there, please correct me. This fic starts at the line "An exclamation of dismay came from the empty boat", when Sam is sinking into the River Anduin in pursuit of Frodo. If you haven't read 'em, be warned that the movie and book differ in several respects during this scene, the most important difference being the fact that Frodo still has the ring on as he's paddling away.
Reviews: Please... Don't stop...Oh, yes, YES! (Reviews aren't the next best thing, they ARE the best thing : P )
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, but they own me.
Chapter 1
Frodo was sure that his heart had stopped. He paddled frantically back towards the spot where Sam had sunk, following the ripples that turned a bit of the river into the gaping mouth of a vengeful serpent, bent upon swallowing his beloved whole. It seemed to take a year to navigate his sluggish canoe back to Sam, but he finally made it and plunged his arm into the waters of the Anduin, icy in the February chill. To Frodo's immense relief, his hand closed almost at once upon Sam's golden curls, which, accompanied by the young gardener's head, were soon above the surface of the river. Frodo's gasps (he was sure that he hadn't breathed since Sam went under) echoed Sam's as the latter struggled to rid his lungs of water. Frodo ached with pain at seeing his Sam so afraid, and for the millionth time he cursed the evil luck that had taken them both away from their comfortable, safe life in the Shire.
Frodo managed somehow to keep from bursting out in passionate endearments and keep his voice serious and steady, maintaining as always the thin layer of formality between himself and his servant. "Up you come, Sam my lad!" he said, extending his other hand to where Sam's churned the river's surface. "Now take my hand!"
"Save me, Mr. Frodo! I'm drowned!"
Sam's voice sounded small and slightly childish, and for the first time in many days Frodo remembered the age difference between them. But the smile that might have curled Frodo's lips was curbed by his fear and bitterness as he remembered the fate of his parents, who had gone to their deaths in a river much smaller and less threatening than this one. Sam's next words broke Frodo's reverie-- "I can't see your hand!" Frodo had forgotten that the ring was on his finger, a fact that frightened him immensely. But there was no time to take it off just yet; Sam couldn't swim, and Frodo would die rather than lose him, lose his Sam whom he had desired and, as he had later admitted to himself, loved since the younger hobbit was barely more than a lad. Reaching so far that he almost fell himself, Frodo finally managed to get a hold on Sam's wrist.
"Here it is. Don't pitch, lad!" A hint of annoyance crept into Frodo's voice at Sam's continued thrashing; he was only barely maintaining his hold on Sam's arm. "I won't let you go." That sentence had meant much more than its surface value, and Sam realized it if the look that crept over his face was anything to judge by. Frodo quickly snapped back to his businesslike tone. "Tread water and don't flounder, or you'll upset the boat. There now, get hold of the side, and let me use the paddle."
It took a struggle to bring the boat to shore with Sam upsetting its balance, but the range of Sam's jump hadn't been a long one and it wasn't more than a few paddles to reach the western shore. He leapt nimbly from the canoe and slipped the ring off his finger, returning it to its chain around his neck and feeling as though a tremendous weight had been lifted from him. Sam, startled by his master's sudden reappearance, slipped back into the river with a splash. Laughing, Frodo bent over, took Sam's hands and pulled him up, watching the water as it slid down Sam's form, following with his eyes the progression through the golden curls, down over shoulders, chest, hips, legs.....
Frodo blushed and quickly looked up into Sam's face, suddenly aware of just how close they were standing, and of the still entwined hands between them. The ringbearer quickly stepped back, but, keeping his eyes on Sam's face, noted a look of something like disappointment cross his companion's features. 'Is it possible?' Frodo's mind enquired with wonder. This hadn't been the first time Frodo had guessed that Sam's feelings for him were less innocent than the gardener let on. Frodo had one very dim memory of his early time in Rivendell. As he lay, feverish and shivering, he though he saw and felt Sam, who sat beside his bed, take Frodo's hand and cradle it, caressing it with his lips and cheek [1]. In the past, Frodo had dismissed the episode as a pleasant dream. But he hadn't had any pleasant dreams while under the power of the ringwraiths...
Frodo had to know, had to test his newfound hope as best he could. Walking around Sam, he put his hands around his friend's shoulders to pull the sopping cloak from his back. Frodo intentionally stood nearer than was necessary, pressing against Sam slightly, but kept his tone light when he spoke.
"Of all the confounded nuisances you are the worst, Sam!" Frodo said this so teasingly that it would be impossible for Sam to take his words seriously.
"Oh, Mr. Frodo, that's hard!" Frodo and Sam caught the innuendo at the same moment, but Frodo turned quickly away to hang Sam's cloak on the jutting prow of the little boat and to give Sam a moment to catch himself. "That's hard, trying to go without me and all," Sam clarified hurriedly. A note of pain bent into Sam's tone as he added, "If I hadn't a guessed right, where would you be now?"
The reasoning behind Sam's question, the unspoken assertion that Frodo couldn't take care of himself, struck a wrong chord in the Baggins. He replied, with a sleight undercurrent of anger in his tone, "Safely on my way."
"Safely! All alone and without me to help you?" Frodo snapped open his mouth, ready to point out that, as the elder of the two, he was sure that he could take care of himself, thank you. But Sam's next words stopped him dead-"I couldn't have a borne it, it'd have been the death of me."
All thoughts of anger fled from Frodo's heart. "It would be the death of you to come with me, Sam, and I could not have borne that," Frodo murmured, stepping near to Sam enveloping his love's hands in both of his own.
"Not as certain as being left behind," Sam's eyes burned into Frodo's, and again it was as though the ringbearer had forgotten how to breathe. He wanted more than anything to lean into those soft lips; many, many imaginings had convinced him of exactly how a kiss from Sam would taste and feel, and Frodo longed beyond words to test his fantasies. But Sam had to make the choice of whether or not to follow his friend himself-Frodo had to give Sam the chance to escape the doom and terror towards which it was Frodo's path to flee.
"But I am going to Mordor." Frodo knew that he could have worded his statement far more strongly, could have tried harder to make Sam understand what he was risking. But losing his Sam, especially now, was hardly something that Frodo wanted.
Sam smiled, sadly but gently, and said softly, "I know that well enough, Mr. Frodo. Of course you are." He dropped Frodo's hands and stepped back, looking down as he said, "And I'm coming with you."
The reluctance that Frodo perceived in Sam's tone hurt Frodo deeply. He knew that if there was even the slightest doubt in Sam's heart, it wasn't fair to bring him along on this quest, but if Sam wasn't with him then the journey hardly seemed worth traveling. Frodo let his pain and fear slip into his voice as he said, "Now Sam, don't hinder me!"
Sam's immediate and pained reaction weakened Frodo's resolve, but he had to be absolutely sure that Sam was ready. So he continued, "The others will be coming back at any minute. If they catch me here, I shall have to argue and explain, and I shall never have the heart or chance to get off. But I must go at once. It's the only way."
To Frodo's complete surprise, Sam broke into a grin at his words. "Of course it is, but not alone," Sam replied as he wrung out his wet weskit and turned back to the boats to apply the same treatment to the elven cloak that Frodo had pulled off of him. Turning back towards Frodo, he looked him straight in the eye and said in an unusually serious tone, "I'm coming too, or neither of us isn't going. I'll..." Sam eyes roamed the campsite, searching for an appropriate threat, his smile returning as he playfully threatened, "I'll knock holes in all the boats first!"
Frodo laughed for what seemed the first time in an age. "Leave one," he said, with the broad grin he now wore slipping into his tone, "We'll need it."
A moment later, Frodo found himself unexpectedly enmeshed in a pair of strong arms. He was quite unsure whether it had been him or Sam who initiated the hug, but it didn't really seem to matter. Frodo leaned close, caring not at all about the sudden dampness of his clothes as he leaned against Sam's still dripping form. How could he have possibly contemplated leaving without his Sam? He needed Sam's deep, unconditional friendship more than anything.
Still smiling, Frodo reluctantly pulled away, adding, "But you can't come like this without your gear or food or anything."
"Just hold on a moment, and I'll get my stuff!" Sam was already bounding away as he spoke, calling vaguely over his shoulder as he took up his pack, "It's all ready. I thought we should be off today." From the obvious enthusiasm in Sam's voice, it would have been easier to believe that he was setting off on a picnic in the Shire than on a dangerous mission to the dark lands.
Feeling rather useless next to Sam's determined bustle, Frodo turned to clamber awkwardly into the elfin canoe, which rocked and shook with his weight. 'It's unbalanced now,' though Frodo. 'But when Sam is here with me, I imagine it'll do just fine.' The thought filled Frodo with joy, but also brought more solemn thoughts. 'I have to tell him,' Frodo decided, 'he has to know how much I love him.'
Sam's struggle to get himself and his heavy pack into the canoe broke Frodo's reverie, and he reached his hand out to help the gardener up. "So, my plan is spoilt! It is no good trying to escape you," Frodo said aloud, letting some small part of his true thoughts slip into his choice of words. "But I'm glad, Sam. I cannot tell you how glad." A small, sweet smile slipped onto Frodo's lips, and he squeezed Sam's hands before releasing them. "Come along! It is plain that we were meant to go together. We will go, and may the others find a safe road! Strider will look after them." Frodo's smile stayed in place, but his eyes were sad as he added, "I don't suppose we shall see them again."
Sam slipped his pack off his back and onto the bottom of the canoe, taking his paddle in hand. "We may yet, Mr. Frodo," Sam said, turning back to his master. "We may."
Frodo lifted his own paddle, and without another word the two companions began to paddle away, towards Mordor and their destinies.
_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*
A/N: Well, this covers only about half of the content that was supposed to be in the first chapter, but I've already spent an obscene amount of time (6+ hours) on this, and if I try to write any more before posting SOMETHING I'll drive myself nuts. The next chapter should arrive pretty soon, since that one won't be set inside a Tolkien scene so I won't have to work around his dialogue. The title, by the way, will be explained in the next chapter. Please review, input concerning the next parts would be adored!