I'm Here
Frodo turns half in delirium, half in agonised terror. Lights blare in his eyes, burn into his skin. He feels exposed, torn, as if something has branded him inside out. A face appears above him in the gloom. Eyes scour his ravished body and he raises his arms to protect himself, a strangled cry escaping from his lips.
He is surprised when warm tears fall onto his chest.
"Mr Frodo it's alright… I'm here." The voice is strangely disembodied as if floating in the air.
"Mr Frodo…?"
And then he sees it, familiar brown eyes, eyes that bring warmth and light.
"Sam…? Sam, is that you?"
"I'm here Frodo; it's your Sam…"
"Oh Sam…"
He lifts his arms like a child and all of a sudden he's covered in warmth. He doesn't remember ever being hugged like this. It is as though time has been suspended and it's just the two of them; a soft elven cloak against his cheek and muffled sobs against a bare-skinned shoulder. He reaches up to burrow his hands through curly hair, pressing warm kisses on his cheek, his forehead, his nose.
"I'm sorry Sam, so sorry," Frodo tries to plead, but Sam hugs him all the tighter. A build-up of tension blinds his eyes for a moment and Frodo finds himself weeping openly, clutching onto his faithful friend as though his life depends on it.
"I'm sorry… so sorry…" manages to come out between sobs. But still Sam holds him, rocking him, stroking his back, soothing him.
"It's ok Mr Frodo…its alright…"
The light dims slightly around them, but still they sit there, rocking gently. Frodo shudders and then pushes his head up, determination on his face for the first time in what seems like an age.
"I knew you'd come for me," he says. Clasping Sam's hand in his own. "I knew you'd come. I could never have done this without you Sam..."
And for a moment as Sam looks upon the light-filled eyes, bluer than the clearest summer's day mirrored with such hope, the dank, fetid cell seems to vanish and it is as if all is right with the world, victory just a hair's breadth away.