Chapter One
Sam finished tearing an especially stubborn weed from its bed of earth and tossed it to the side to accompany the others. He hummed to himself happily, the air still warm even as the sun set behind the horizon line, reddening his already rosy cheeks. He quickly brushed his dirtied hands off on his trousers, his mind delving into plans for the coming spring's garden,
"It'll be full of pansies and tulips, perhaps a nice rosebush or two." He thought contently to himself, itching his ear as he surveyed the small plot of land. Sam silently enjoyed his garden, the feel of good earth on his hands again, the clear air of the Shire. All of it a welcome sanctuary after enduring his terrible quest, all the simple beauties of his hometown more precious and dear. Suddenly, a familiar scratching noise permeated through the open window of Bag End, shaking Sam from his idle daydreams. Tentatively he kneeled down into the loamy soil and positioned himself so that he could see just over the window sill and into the Baggins' study. A small smile stretched over his plump face when he saw Frodo out of bed and busily working on his and Bilbo's book. The fading light of sundown played over Frodo's creamy skin, catching and igniting the tips of his ebony hair, highlighting his wide eyes and making them twinkle shamelessly. Frodo continued to scrawl down the vivid recollections, his pen scraping noisily against the parchment until it became a steady hum. He finished the paragraph, slowly placed the quill back in its inkwell and reclined in his chair, wrapping his think blanket ever closer around his shoulders. A slight draft blew in from the open window, smelling of mud and early spring sky. Frodo leaned towards it, soaking in the soft flowering perfume even as the gentle wind chilled him to bone. But as he laid his hand on the shutter he noticed something odd. Golden blonde sprigs of hair poked up from beneath the ridge and as Frodo tilted further he saw two brown eyes peering back up at him.
"Why Samwise, what are you doing down there?" Frodo asked evenly, a smirk tugging at his cheeks. Sam stood swiftly, his mouth opening and closing like a trout caught on a fishing line.
"Well I was just trimming the grass under the window Master Frodo, I swear." Frodo's grin deepened as he watched Sam dart about, picking up his tools and stacking them till they nearly reached his chin.
"That isn't the first time I've heard that Sam. Now do you mean to tell me why you were spying on me?" Frodo asked with a mock tone of disapproval in his voice. Sam's head shot up and his brow knit together fiercely,
"It wasn't like that Mr. Frodo. No, see I wasn't spying on you I was jus' watching over you. I know you haven't been feeling yourself ever since we got back from the quest an' all. And I was-"Sam took a step forward and in his haste dropped his armload of tools on the ground. "Oh blast it all." As he stooped to gather his tools again Frodo's beam was unleashed, he watched Sam angrily tossing his tools into a heap, amused by Sam's frustration.
"I know you weren't spying on me." Frodo called, grasping the shutters in both hands as another gust of wind rushed inside. "I was only teasing you, now why don't you come inside for sup; we're having mushrooms after all." Sam's face brightened at this offer,
"Why I reckon I'd love to sir." Frodo nodded and shut the window as Sam rushed around the side of the house to the door. Quickly, before he entered, Sam straightened his wetskit and buttoned the cuffs of his sleeves. Having made sure his appearance was proper he let himself into Bag End and sat down at the dining table, contently watching as Frodo busied himself with dishing out dinner.
"There you are." Frodo said, pushing a plate of marinated mushrooms in front of Sam, who merrily tucked into the meal.
"Well aren't you going to have anything Master Frodo?" Sam asked his mouth still filled with food. "You really should have something as well, to get back your strength and such." Frodo drew his usual blanket closer around himself and smiled reassuringly back at Sam.
"I'm not very hungry Sam, just awfully cold." Frodo breathed, his face drooping slightly and revealing the fine lines of age and plights, as he secretly thought of his old ring. The warmth that had exuded from it was now gone, lost forever. He looked up at Sam who was returning his gaze, an expression of empathy on his round face. Instantly Frodo felt embarrassment, his desire for the ring apparent on his face. "Now, enough talking Sam dear, eat up." At first, Sam uncertainly obliged, but in the dim candle lit room he began to notice how frail his master truly looked. Frodo's eyes did not shimmer with the absence of sun; they looked back at Sam with a tired gaze, wet and restless under his troubled brow. At this unsettling reminder Sam set down his fork,
"I'm not hungry much either Mister Frodo." He stood and walked his still half filled plate to the sink, "Why don't we go sit by the fire, I wouldn't want you catchin' a chill." Frodo nodded and paced slowly into the next room where he sat heavily in a large armchair, his eyes blankly gazing into the hearth. Sam cast one apologetic glance at his plate of mushrooms and then joined Frodo by the fireplace. "You seem bothered Frodo." Sam noted hesitantly, "Is there anything I could do to help, sir?" Without looking away from the fire Frodo responded,
"Oh, Sam I am no more troubled than usual. I-" The young hobbit stuttered, raising a weak hand to his forehead. "I feel its power Sam. Still it hangs over me, dragging me down with it, for all time." Instantly Sam knew what his master spoke of. The ring had not let Frodo out of its grip; his treasured friend had not been restored to his previous character after their mission. And Gandalf had grudgingly admitted to Sam before that he was not sure if Frodo would ever heal from the wounds he had obtained during the journey. Sam kneeled before Frodo, cutting off his line of vision to the fire. Frodo's brow wrinkled as he looked down into his steadfast friend's eyes. "I fear I will never be free of it Sam. The memories are with me, the burden is with me especially now." Sam took Frodo's hand in his and tenderly stroked it, hoping to comfort the forlorn hobbit.
"I know Mister Frodo, I know. But there are better times ahead. I swear it." Sam's voiced began to rise slightly out of desperation. "You'll have me. I was there with you remember? Till the end. And I still am Mister Frodo, I still am!" Frodo's head tilted to the side, resting against the chair in a bleak slump,
"Quiet Sam." He said halfheartedly, wetting his lips. "You'll wake Bilbo." Sam's cheeks flushed instantly, becoming even more ruddy than usual.
"Sorry Master Frodo." Sam uttered at last. Expectantly Sam watched for Frodo's response but he did nothing for some time. Just as Sam was getting ready to excuse himself and prepare to go home Frodo firmly squeezed Sam's hand.
"Promise Sam." He said, his eyelids closing with a lethargic flutter. "Promise, you'll stay with me till the end." Sam's jaw tightened as he attempted to evade the tears that were forming.
"I promise Mister Frodo." And with that Frodo nodded off into sleep, a faint smile trailing on his lips as he slid out into dreams. Time passed quickly into night and Sam's own eyes began to feel heavy with drowsiness. "I promise to be with you." Sam swore under his breath as he laid his head in Frodo's lap, slumber finally enveloping them both.