It was cold that night. The wind swept quickly through the mountains and whistled into the cave where there lay two hobbits.
Frodo lie awake. No surprise, he could never seem to sleep lately. No matter how hard he tried. He had begun accepting the fact that rest was something that would not come. Not with that dammed weight around his neck.
He put his hand to his chest and traced the subtle outline of the sinister ring hiding beneath his chainmail.
Just knowing it was there made his whole body ache.
A sliver of hope still existed for him as this had been the first time he was able to acknowledge the presence of the ring without being tempted to put it on and just disappear. If only disappearing by means of the ring was a simple thing to do.
The young hobbit let out a long sigh and closed his eyes. The wind roared back at him as if to mock his attempt at trying to find some sort of peace.
A rustle behind him cause his eyelids to shoot right back open and his body to go into immediate defense mode. He scanned the area behind him and his eyes fell on his friend.
He let out a laugh, the first one in a long while.
You never were a quiet sleeper, were you Sam? He said gazing down at his companion. It seemed as though Sam was getting a bit restless, tossing and turning underneath all of his cloaks.
Probably dreaming of those pretty girls back at the Shire. Frodo chuckled to himself.
He then began to wonder, if Sam ever dreamed of him.
The thought lingered…
He kneeled next to his sleeping friend and gently touched one of the many soft, golden curls lying motionless on Sam's forehead, and swept it behind his slightly pointed ear. Frodo wished he could see inside of his friend's mind. Just for a while. He wished maybe he could take the heavy load off Sam's mind and just carry it for him, as if he wasn't already carrying enough himself.
All Sam had ever done their entire friendship was protect him. He only ever wanted was best for Frodo, he only ever did what would keep Frodo safe.
Frodo felt a pang of guilt hit him harshly in his side.
What had he ever done for Sam?
His sweet, loyal, sometimes mischievous, lifelong friend had done so much for him, risked his life even, and all Frodo had done was day dream for hours and hours about all of the things he wished he could be for Sam.
He wanted to protect him, he wanted to be the brave one and the one who was fearless and strong and loyal to no end.
He felt safe with Sam. He knew if anyone were to follow him into the fiery pits of Mordor, it would without a doubt be him.
But how did Sam feel? Did he feel safe with Frodo?
Frodo didn't even feel safe with himself.
He hung his head in shame; he didn't want to let Sam down. He had to be brave. He had to be strong. He knew he had to be a man. A man his best friend, his beautiful, faithful best friend could depend on for the remainder of not only their journey together, but for the rest of their lives together.
Together. That was the way they always were. They always came as a pair. And to stick together in this journey they both needed to be fearless.
Frodo reached down and gently took Sam's hand in his. He laid a kiss upon it and whispered;
I will be brave for you always, Samwise Gamgee.