Is it slash? Well, the word love is used, but it's used in the book too. However you see Frodo and Sam's relationship in the book, view it the same here.
Dedication:To every LotR geek at work, and most especially to Dark Elf 'cause she'll probably be the only one to read this :) Hope ya like it!
Disclaimer:Yeah, you bet it's not mine.
Worthwhile
Part 1
The weight. The weight of it around his neck was almost too much. He was so close to giving up - so close. He'd have given up long ago, but for Sam. The thought of his friend returned his mind from the dark, hopeless world of the Ringspell, to the realm of Mordor - also dark, but there hope remained. He smiled down at the golden-curled head lying at his side, snoring gently. He touched the sleeping hobbit's shoulder, as if to remind himself that he really was there, that he wasn't some bittersweet hallucination, an oasis of love and a reminder of home in this dark and shadowed land. The warmth under his hand convinced him that Sam was indeed there, really had travelled to this endless wilderness of rock, in the shadow cast by the darkness of the unseen Black Gates and the Eye of Sauron.
At the thought of the Dark Lord, a strange thrill passed through his body from the circlet of gold on the chain around his neck. Swallowing thickly, eyes darting towards where he knew the Deceiver was watching, looking for him constantly, Frodo Baggins forced himself to look away, to put the Ring back into the confines of his shirt, where it could cause less damage. He instead forced his attention back to the very best of friends, Samwise.
"Why did you follow me here?" Whispered Frodo softly. He knew better than to take the reason Sam had given him as the only one. A promise from Master Gamgee was indeed one that would be honoured, and Sam had promised Gandalf that he would not leave him. But more than a promise had led him here. Frodo felt the whisper of a smile pass over his lips. He and Sam had been friends since the moment they met. When Frodo had moved to Bag End after his parents' death, he had been dreading the move away from everyone and everything he had ever known, favourite cousin or not. But the view of the shy young hobbit of about nine watching his father work in the garden, with his strange colouring - golden hair shining like honey in the sun - had made him wonder if perhaps he could possibly enjoy it there after all. Crossing his legs, trying to get comfortable on the ceaselessly sharp stone of Mordor, the hobbit slipped into memory for a while, remaining alert to any movement around him.
On that first day, though later in the afternoon, once the boy and his father had finished their work and washed, they had joined them for tea at Bilbo's request, "Now this, young Frodo," Bilbo had said, "Is the Gaffer, but Mister Gamgee, to you! He is my gardener, and a mighty fine one at that." The Gaffer nodded in greeting, and Frodo nodded back.
"Greetings, Mister Gamgee," he had said politely, but the Gaffer looked uncomfortable at that.
"Now then, don't go giving me idea's above my station. I'm the Gaffer to everyone 'round here, and that includes you" he said, biting a chunk out of one of the rock cakes Bilbo had baked earlier with Frodo's help.
"And this is Samwise. He's a bit younger than you, but I think you'll get along just fine," Bilbo had smiled.
"Hello, Samwise," Frodo said, smiling. The other hobbit seemed unwilling to look him in the eyes.
"Evening, Mister Frodo," he said, and his voice had a softness that surprised the other hobbit.
"Now then!" Bilbo said. "I hope you'll help me get Frodo adjusted to life in Hobbiton, Sam."
The young hobbit's eyes flashed to Bilbo, then just as quickly back to the plate that sat before him covered with cake crumbs. "As you wish, Sir."
The older hobbit chuckled and reached over to muss Samwise's hair. "You don't need to be so proper! Frodo here needs a friend, not a servant. Do you think you're up to it? Because I truly don't think there's anyone better in the whole of the Shire."
"I'll do my best, Mister Baggins," Sam said, looking up for the first time, encouraged by Bilbo's praise. Frodo was somewhat startled to see the colour of the boy's eyes. People always remarked how unique and beautiful his own eyes were, but they were nothing to Sam's. The boy's eyes were the brown of well-tilled earth that made things grow and thrive. His own eyes were the colour of the sky, ethereal and full of dreams - just like him. His mind was always elsewhere, rarely doing anything practical. From Sam's eyes, Frodo guessed he would be the opposite - hard working with skill and talent to nurture growing things.
He had been right, that day thirty years ago. He had remained a dreamer, and as Sam entered his tweens, he had become a most capable and talented gardener, overcoming his Gaffer in only a few years.
He had entered the kitchen one day as Sam had been making a pot of tea for them, and those brown eyes with depths few bothered to notice had been staring out of the window at Bag End's beautiful garden, a frown on his face.
"Is everything all right, Sam?" He had asked, concern for his friend colouring his voice. Sam had turned to see him, and blushed when he realised Frodo had caught him in one of his thoughtful moments.
"Oh, fine Mister Frodo," Sam said, taking two cups from the cupboard and starting to fill them with tea. Frodo had taken one of the cups from him, and sat down at the table.
"You don't seem fine," Frodo had said softly. Sam had sighed, and sat opposite him, then looked up at him. He held Frodo's gaze for a moment and then let his eyes drop, frowning once more. "Come on, Sam. Tell me. Did I... Did I say something wrong?" He asked, worrying suddenly that Sam's mood was due to him somehow.
"No! No, Frodo. It's just..." His voice had trailed off, and his eyes wandered to the garden, as it did whenever he was worried. He found strength and solace in living things, he knew. But Samwise had always previously confided in Frodo. They were best friends, despite their age difference, and Frodo couldn't imagine why Sam was keeping something from him now, if it was not something that Frodo had done to upset him. "Truly Frodo," said Sam, seeming to know his thoughts. "It's not anything you did."
"Then what is it?" Frodo asked, reaching across the table and squeezing Sam's hands in a gesture of comfort. "Come on, Sam, you can tell me. We're friends, aren't we? The best."
At that, Sam's eyes met his, and though the frown remained, he didn't look away. "I know. But... But I don't deserve to be."
Frodo blinked. Of all the things he had expected to hear, that was the last. "...What?"
"I mean," started Sam, "I mean, you're so much better'n me. You're cleverer, and smarter - you know your letters, an' you're from a respected family, an' you've got money and friends and - and I'm just Sam, a gardener and a fool to think you ever worthy of me. You're worthy of friends better'n me by far."
"What?" Frodo repeated, an edge to the words this time. Still holding Sam's hands, he squeezed them. "Samwise Gamgee, I would never normally label you a fool, except perhaps right now after hearing what you just said! Not worthy of being my friend? Sam, you're the best friend I have ever had, the best friend I could ever have. You are no fool, no less clever or smart of worthy than I. Bilbo taught you your letters, didn't he?"
"He did, but I was never very good," Sam murmured.
"Then I shall teach you and you shall learn them well. You're no fool, Sam. You may be able to act like one and fool everyone else, but you can't fool me. I know you too well, too deeply and too strongly. I won't abide you acting like one any longer. Do you want to be able to read of the adventures of the elves, of the days of old? To keep in contact with your family in the other Farthings?"
"You know I do, Mister Frodo."
"Then will you let me teach you - as a friend?"
Sam had paused, and then a smile had slowly spread across his face. "You mean it, sir?"
He had asked, and Frodo had nodded. "Every word, Sam. Every word."