It was but the second night of their lonely journey when Samwise Gamgee awoke suddenly to the violent thrashing of his companion. The visions that haunted Frodo seemed to be getting worse with every hour that passed. They would have to be swift in the coming days before his sanity was shattered permanently. Sam blinked a few times and sat up, trying to regain enough strength to rouse him.

"Oi, Mister Frodo," yawned Sam, putting a hand on the other's shoulder and shaking him gently.

Frodo gasped into consciousness and flipped over, allowing Sam to see the tears of fright that had formed at the rims of his eyes. He was clutching the ring with such force that his knuckles were white with strain.

"Sir—" The gardener started to say. But then he was surprised into silence as Frodo released the golden relic and grabbed at Sam's arm instead.

"S-Sam?" said the ring-bearer, trembling. "Is…Is everything okay?"

Sam struggled for words as Frodo turned to face him better. His arms were still wrapped around the blonde's.

"Uh, y-yes Mister Frodo, sir." Sam assured him, putting his free hand on the hobbit's other shoulder. "You were having another nightmare is all."

"A nightmare…" Frodo exhaled deeply. He shut his eyes briefly, loosening but not breaking the grip he had on his friend's arm.

There was awkward period of calming silence, in which both Halflings simply breathed and listened to nature's soundtrack of night.

"I'm worried about you, Mister Frodo." Sam whispered, trying not to disturb the peace as much as possible.

"I wish you were not," commented Frodo, avoiding his eyes. "To be truthful, I have enough worry for the both of us combined."

Sam frowned. "And what makes you think I don't feel the same?"

"Sam…If anything happened to you because of me…"

"No," replied the other firmly. He cupped the side of the brunette's face and forced him to make eye contact. "Now you listen, that is the least of our troubles. Us getting rid of that ring and keeping your head in check until it's gone is our main priority right now. Anything else we'll take as it comes. Alright?"

Frodo stared at him with his electric blue eyes, looking terribly nervous. He gulped and with much effort managed to nod.

"I care about you, I hope you know that." Sam concluded, glancing to the side and dropping his hand. Frodo felt his face heat up at this mention, suddenly being able to sense a new meaning to his words. Recent events had changed their lives so drastically and so quickly. There had hardly been any time lately to give a thought to anything besides surviving and completing their quest. The young Halfling could deny no longer that he had quickly become fatigued of this lifestyle. Although they had no choice but to move on and keep going, he felt it was necessary to come to terms with each other. Whatever that could mean.

"I do know that." Frodo proclaimed, tugging on Sam's arm to make him lean closer. Sam looked forward once more, his nose lightly grazing the brunette's. "And I for you, which is why I cannot help but worry and vice versa. But I won't let it consume me, my faith in you is too strong."

Sam's face flushed in the darkness of midnight, and the corner of his mouth upturned in a sincere smirk. "And, I suppose, my faith in you, Mister Frodo." His hand floated to the other's neck, avoiding the chain on which the source of their burdens hung.

Frodo swallowed his thoughts of hesitation. Before he was fully conscious of his actions, he pulled Sam's arm only slightly closer to close the aperture between them. The blonde's breath caught in his throat, staying there for a half of a minute until the gap reopened in a somewhat clumsy manner, allowing their limbs to be freed. The two hovered in front of each other, quietly respirating.

"What…What was that?" Sam squeaked, anxiously staring straight ahead. His mind refused to cooperate with the received stimuli.

Frodo appeared as baffled as he was. "I don't know," he admitted helplessly, "I just sort of…I don't know. I'm sorry."

"No no, it's fine." Replied Sam a tad quickly. "I uh…It wasn't unpleasant, if that's what you think."

"Really?" Frodo's voice did a horrible job of concealing his surprise. Or his eagerness, for that matter. "Then do you—I mean—"

"Only if—"

"Yeah."

"Okay."

Ungracefully, the pair resumed their kiss. At first there was a horrid tenseness that hung in the air since neither knew quite what exactly they were doing. But then Sam's hand crawled up and dug into his companion's dark curly hair, and the anxious atmosphere seemed to disintegrate immediately.

Dismal thoughts of peril and corruption were blurred away by the saliva of their tongues, prodding into the foreign terrain of an unknown mouth. It was a pleasurable kind of madness, one that Frodo greatly preferred over the ring's torment. The feeling was almost happy.

Happy. The brunette sighed blissfully onto Sam. What a thought to have, he thought, after all that has happened. But that was the beauty of the moment; Having something happy and not destructive, even if it was only temporary. They were still together, they had gotten this far.

Sam's lips trailed down along Frodo's jaw and onto his neck, resulting in some minor tremors. The hobbit tilted his head back, giving the gardener more access to the outer portion of his trachea. Their legs—and sleeping bags—were messily intertwined on the ground. The metaphor about having butterflies in one's stomach was a massive understatement; To Frodo, it was more like a snake, constricting relentlessly around his stomach and…elsewhere.

Hell if he knew what was to happen in the coming days, all the ring-bearer was concerned of in that instant was Sam. His newfound best friend and protector, bound to him originally by a foolish dropping of eaves. And what was he now? Frodo wasn't sure what to think. "Friend" just seemed like a pathetic understatement at this point.

Their fondling was halted as a growl echoed through the rocks. It wasn't loud, almost undetectable, but both hobbits heard it clearly. They were being followed.

Frodo gripped Sam's shirt, his excitement cascading into nervousness. The blonde was perplexed and embarrassed at having just kissed the living hell out of his comrade. He didn't realize the gravity of the situation until Frodo whispered his name in a concerned, quiet tone that hinted at something more urgent than fooling around.

"Mister Frodo…" tried Sam, still holding the other close. "What was…"

"We're not alone." He answered stiffly. The present had creeped up on them once more, and the ring felt heavy again.

Sam cleared his throat. "We should move a little, just in case." The duo nodded in agreement.

They gathered their items in an uncommunicative and rushed way, then proceeded to trudge stealthily onward until a better camp could be established. For fifteen minutes, all was taciturn. No signs of pursuit followed them.

Frodo relaxed somewhat, checking beside him to look upon Sam. He didn't appear to be as calm. A sudden surge of improvisation gave Frodo the courage to grab his hand and deliver a soft smooch to his lips.

Sam flinched and stopped walking for a juncture, looking a tad conflicted. "Hey," Frodo assured him with a smile, "We'll be alright. I know we will."

Breathing out steadily, Sam grinned back. "Yeah, yeah we will."

With their fingers comfortably interlaced, the pair marched on into the dark. Perhaps the happy thought was not as far-fetched as it had seemed.