A/N: No slash! This idea came to me last night and I thought I'd try to write a short one-shot about it. It's kind of just Sam's thoughts about how the Quest is going so far, how Frodo has changed, etc. Trying to make it a drabble or drabblet, maybe…
"It's alright, Sam, I'm fine. We have to keep moving."
That's what Frodo had said about ten minutes ago. Now, he and Sam had stopped in a craggy but flat pass that seemed safe enough to take a short rest in. Frodo was curled up on his side, fast asleep.
Sam sat beside him, keeping watch. He decided that this was one of the rare moments he had to think, to sit and mull over the task at hand, maybe even let his mind wander.
The thought that the fate of Middle-Earth rested on his and Frodo's shoulders was a more than overwhelming thought to deal with. He glanced over at Frodo, his 'master', but more importantly, his friend, best friend if he dared to say it.
Sam had noticed changes in Frodo as the quest wore on. He hardly ever laughed anymore, and smiles were a welcomed but rare sight. His face was pale almost always, his cheeks not as cheery and pink as a Hobbit's should be, and, ever since the encounter with the Black Rider, when Frodo had been stabbed in the shoulder, there seemed to be permanent circles under his eyes.
'Poor Mr. Frodo's wastin' away,' Sam thought worriedly.
Frodo's whimper jarred Sam out of his deep thought, and he quickly rushed to his friend's side. Frodo was still asleep, but his body twitched slightly, and his hand was grasping his shoulder hard, knuckles white.
"Mr. Frodo, wake up. It's just a dream, you're alright." Came Sam's strained voice.
Frodo gasped with a cry, sitting up suddenly.
"Sam," he whispered, eyes haunted. "It was so real. It happened again, the wraith, stabbed me…with the knife…" his eyes were glassy with unshed tears and fear.
"It's alright, Mr. Frodo," Sam tried to speak softly; in the tone he used to use back in the Shire with the Hobbit children. "If those black riders ever come lookin' for you again, they'll have to go through me first."
Frodo repositioned himself so he was facing his friend.
"But there was more, Sam," Frodo's voice was nothing above a whisper. " Y-you saw it happen, you were…. standing, right there. B-but you just looked at me and walked away, leaving me in the dark, all alone… I called to you, but no one came… I-I…"
He broke off, and it was suddenly too much. He began to sob.
Sam was distressed, and slightly sickened by the thought of leaving Frodo here, in this horrible land, all alone. He scooted over and wrapped his arms around a shaking Frodo.
"It's all okay, Mr. Frodo, you know I would never leave you alone, anywhere, unless you asked me to, of course." He said reassuringly.
"I k-know, Sam. You are the best friend I've ever had." He looked up at Sam, his large blue eyes reflecting a little bit more of the old Frodo.
"And you are the best I've had. Come on now, Mr. Frodo, let's get you up and a move on." Sam tried to sound confident. He was glad that Frodo was okay again, and a bit of him said that they would make it, that all of their struggles could not possibly have been in vain.
It was a feeling that Sam didn't feel often: a sense of purpose, real purpose. As they climbed closer and closer to the smoking mountains, sam felt something in his heart harden, and knew that he had something he hadn't before:
Something worth fighting for.
A/N: So what did you think? More than a drabble or even a drabblet, Iknow. But this is my first LOTR piece and my first one-shot. It started as an angsty fic, but as I wrote it morphed into a ''Sam' tale. Review, I'd like to know what you think.
~CandySmile~