Frodo looked up at the sky wearily. Not many stars could be seen through the thick black cloud that seemed to cover everything. It was the second night since the two had left the Fellowship. He was tired. Tired of everything. The Quest was far from over yet and he would endure, but he couldn't shake the feeling that it was more than he could handle. Constant was the whisper that said : "Deliver the Ring to the hands of it's Master and go home, little Hobbit. This is too much for you." And when that didn't work: "Claim the Ring for your own and end this war right now".
As the Hobbit's eyes closed, his hand began to move on its own accord, lifting from the ground. A small noise shook him and he suddenly became aware of Sam's presence close by. Turning his head Frodo came almost face to face with the sandy haired Hobbit asleep beside him. He smiled. He *was* glad that Sam had come with him; though he could have hurt him for jumping into that river like that and nearly giving him a heartattack. Hobbits do not swim, that's a fact, but the faithful Hobbit beside him seemed beyond fear as he plunged into the aqua depths of the river.
Sitting up, Frodo gazed down at the younger Hobbit. Unable to stop himself he reached out to brush the sandy bangs from his sleeping companion's eyes. Sam drew in a deep breath and turned his face towards the touch. The older Hobbit smiled and continued to brush the tangled bangs. Frodo felt deeply for Sam, and always had, more so than he could explain. He had always watched Sam from inside Bag End as he tended the garden. Oh, how his ears ached to hear Sam's gentle voice calling for him, "Wake up Mr. Frodo! Breakfast's ready!". Frodo sighed with longing. Sam's breath was slow and study. Frodo swallowed as his hand slowly recoiled.
When things were at their worst, it was Sam that has always helped him the most. A gentle word, a heartening smile; always there, by his side. But something troubled the older Hobbit now: What had he to give Sam in return? And the answer came suddenly: Your Love. But Sam did not think of him that way! Or.. did he? He thought of his cousins, Pippin and Merry, and how close they always were to eachother, were him and Sam like that? Why not? Sam was loyal, hopeful... beautiful. Yes, yes he was beautiful. Frodo took in a deep breath and held it, closing his eyes and slowly leaning down, just over Sam's sleeping face.
His was so close he could feel Sam's soft breath on his face. His eyes opened and he stopped. No.. no, he couldn't do this. Not when he didn't know exactally how Sam felt about him. Sitting back up, Frodo released the breath he had been holding. With a pang of guilt and a nagging sense of lust, Frodo laid himself back down next to Sam and fell asleep, only to find comfort in dreams of fire.
Sam's eyes opened. He was glad that Frodo had not seen his blush because of the darkness. The sandy haired Hobbit sat up to look at his master. He could hardly believe it when he felt Frodo touching him and had been afraid to move for fear that he would wake up and find it a dream. But when he felt his master's face so close to his, it took all he had not to move. Faint, blush, cry tears of joy. He could have done many things. But before he could do any one of those, Frodo had pulled away and left nothing but the cool night air in his place. The only question was why Mr. Frodo had pulled away. Sam knew he loved Frodo dearly, and had always what the older Hobbit's feelings were.
Sam sighed to himself sadly and laid back down beside his master. Frodo groaned and shifted. Another nightmare, Sam thought. He slid his hand into Frodo's and Frodo's hand held tight in response, his body seeming to relax a bit. "It seems I can do *something*" Sam whispered. "And anything is enough if it helps you, Mr. Frodo... and I can wait" With that, Sam closed his eyes and allowed himself to dream only of Shire, and Bag End, and of course, of Frodo.
As the Hobbit's eyes closed, his hand began to move on its own accord, lifting from the ground. A small noise shook him and he suddenly became aware of Sam's presence close by. Turning his head Frodo came almost face to face with the sandy haired Hobbit asleep beside him. He smiled. He *was* glad that Sam had come with him; though he could have hurt him for jumping into that river like that and nearly giving him a heartattack. Hobbits do not swim, that's a fact, but the faithful Hobbit beside him seemed beyond fear as he plunged into the aqua depths of the river.
Sitting up, Frodo gazed down at the younger Hobbit. Unable to stop himself he reached out to brush the sandy bangs from his sleeping companion's eyes. Sam drew in a deep breath and turned his face towards the touch. The older Hobbit smiled and continued to brush the tangled bangs. Frodo felt deeply for Sam, and always had, more so than he could explain. He had always watched Sam from inside Bag End as he tended the garden. Oh, how his ears ached to hear Sam's gentle voice calling for him, "Wake up Mr. Frodo! Breakfast's ready!". Frodo sighed with longing. Sam's breath was slow and study. Frodo swallowed as his hand slowly recoiled.
When things were at their worst, it was Sam that has always helped him the most. A gentle word, a heartening smile; always there, by his side. But something troubled the older Hobbit now: What had he to give Sam in return? And the answer came suddenly: Your Love. But Sam did not think of him that way! Or.. did he? He thought of his cousins, Pippin and Merry, and how close they always were to eachother, were him and Sam like that? Why not? Sam was loyal, hopeful... beautiful. Yes, yes he was beautiful. Frodo took in a deep breath and held it, closing his eyes and slowly leaning down, just over Sam's sleeping face.
His was so close he could feel Sam's soft breath on his face. His eyes opened and he stopped. No.. no, he couldn't do this. Not when he didn't know exactally how Sam felt about him. Sitting back up, Frodo released the breath he had been holding. With a pang of guilt and a nagging sense of lust, Frodo laid himself back down next to Sam and fell asleep, only to find comfort in dreams of fire.
Sam's eyes opened. He was glad that Frodo had not seen his blush because of the darkness. The sandy haired Hobbit sat up to look at his master. He could hardly believe it when he felt Frodo touching him and had been afraid to move for fear that he would wake up and find it a dream. But when he felt his master's face so close to his, it took all he had not to move. Faint, blush, cry tears of joy. He could have done many things. But before he could do any one of those, Frodo had pulled away and left nothing but the cool night air in his place. The only question was why Mr. Frodo had pulled away. Sam knew he loved Frodo dearly, and had always what the older Hobbit's feelings were.
Sam sighed to himself sadly and laid back down beside his master. Frodo groaned and shifted. Another nightmare, Sam thought. He slid his hand into Frodo's and Frodo's hand held tight in response, his body seeming to relax a bit. "It seems I can do *something*" Sam whispered. "And anything is enough if it helps you, Mr. Frodo... and I can wait" With that, Sam closed his eyes and allowed himself to dream only of Shire, and Bag End, and of course, of Frodo.