* * *
When Frodo heard Bilbo's voice echoing through the trees, calling his name, he didn't answer, certain the older hobbit was only going to try and console him. But he was beyond comfort now. Sam was gone, lost to him forever. He'd waited for sixty years, all the while hoping and praying for some sign of his friend, for the sight of his face on one of the ships, but all his hopes had been in vain.
*Well,* he thought sardonically, *I guess this means Bilbo's doing my laundry for eternity.*
But somehow, instead of making him smile, the thought only made him feel worse.
He couldn't blame Sam. Not really. After all, what had Frodo ever been to him but trouble? It was because of him that Sam had been dragged into the whole ordeal with the ring, in the process nearly dying more times than Frodo could count. He'd almost drowned, been nearly beheaded by an orc, been attacked by a gigantic spider, and was practically roasted alive, all trying to protect his master.
*That was it, then,* Frodo thought. *Duty, and no more.* Frodo had grown to depend on Sam, and he had become as dear to him as his own life; nay, dearer; but obviously Sam hadn't felt the same way. Frodo had come to think, to *hope* that he had, but when it came down to it, it had all been for the sake of his *duty.*
Fresh tears welled from Frodo's eyes, and he began to cry again. Not the deep, gut wrenching sobs from before, but soft tears, tears of sorrow, of pain and despair.
How was he to face eternity alone?
But before his grief wholly overtook him, he heard another voice calling his name.
"Frodo!"
The voice was somewhat hoarse, so Frodo didn't recognize it at first. He sat up and looked about him, trying to discover where the sound had come from.
"Frodo? Frodo!"
And as Frodo turned, there came from the trees to his right a figure staggering into view.
Frodo's breath caught in his throat, and for a moment his heart stopped beating. He sat paralyzed, a cry stuck deep in his chest, and stared.
*Sam.*
Frodo watched as his friend turned, searching, but didn't see Frodo from where he stood. He was just beginning to move away when the cry in Frodo's chest suddenly tore from his throat.
"Sam!"
Sam spun around, and from across the clearing their eyes met. Sam's shoulders slumped with relief. Frodo staggered to his feet and ran towards his friend.
They met halfway through the clearing and collapsed into a desperate embrace. Arms clung tightly, grasping with the strength that spoke of the years of heartrending separation.
"Oh, Sam!" Frodo cried into his friend's ear. "Oh, Sam, you're here--! I thought…I thought you'd forgotten me!"
"Forgotten you?" came Sam's ragged reply. "Forgotten *you*? No, no, never! Never, Frodo, never, never, never…"
He dissolved once more into tears.
Frodo clung to him, feeling he couldn't get close enough. He felt the bitter coating around his heart begin to crack and melt away as Sam held him. And while the feel of Sam's arms around him was wonderfully familiar, as though not a day had passed since he'd last seen him, Frodo was at the same time ever more aware of how much he'd missed him. Something within him seemed to crack and spill over, flooding him with the feeling of aching loss he'd grown so accustomed to ignoring, reminding him with each sobbing gasp in his ear or each tightening of the arms about his back how great his loss truly had been.
It was a long time before they were able to pull apart. When they finally did, Frodo stood back and gazed into Sam's face, marveling at the sight that had filled his dreams for so long. He reached out and wiped away a tear that was rolling down Sam's cheek, then brushed his hair from his face and tucked a stray curl behind his ear. Sam smiled at him, reaching out to brush at Frodo's cheek in turn, his lip trembling with emotion. It was a moment before Frodo could find it within him to speak.
"Oh, Sam…" he whispered, not even knowing where to begin. Finally he settled on, "I'm so glad to see you, Sam."
Sam smiled, his eyes shining with tears and love. "And I'm glad to see you, too, Frodo," he whispered back.
Then they both burst out laughing at the obviousness of their statements. "Listen to us!" Sam cried, shaking his head. "It's been sixty years, and alls we can think to say is 'I'm glad to see you'! As though that weren't plain enough. And yet," he said, growing serious and tilting his head to the side as he contemplated his former master, "I feel almost as if it was only yesterday since I last saw you, if you take my meaning. Isn't that odd, now?"
Frodo shook his head. "I don't think it is, Sam, because I feel the same way." He paused and considered for a moment. "I suppose it's because that, even while we were apart, we never forgot each other." He looked at Sam again, realizing how his friend had been ever-present in his mind during the last sixty years, even when he chose to ignore the fact. There were even times when Frodo could see him so clearly in his memory, felt he could reach out and touch him, if he tried hard enough. Frodo whispered, almost to himself, "I never let myself forget what you meant to me."
Sam gazed at his friend, wondering if he was going to continue. After a moment, Frodo seemed to realize Sam was watching him.
"Sam," he said softly, turning to face him and taking Sam's hands in his own, "I don't think I ever told you…exactly how much you *did* mean to me. I…" he broke off and looked down at their hands, their intertwined fingers, and Sam felt a tear fall onto one of the knuckles of his right hand.
"I never said all I meant to, Sam, and for that I'd like to apologize. I was never too good at this sort of thing…" he broke off once more and then laughed. "I suppose I'm still not," he said, then raised his head and met Sam's gaze once more. "What I'm trying to say, Sam, is that I…" he paused, his mouth still open, then looked down again, tears filling his eyes. "I love you, Sam," he whispered. "I don't think I realized just how much until…until you weren't there anymore." The memory of the long years without his dear friend suddenly overwhelmed Frodo once more, and he began to cry softly.
Sam didn't say anything right away, but pulled Frodo into his arms again and drew his head down to his shoulder. Frodo leaned into the embrace, closing his eyes and breathing deeply of Sam's scent as they stood under the swaying evergreens.
After a moment Sam spoke. "You may not've said as much, Frodo," he said quietly, "But I knew. Somewhere in my heart, I always knew." He drew away and kissed Frodo's forehead. Frodo bowed his head, hot tears streaming down his face from under his closed lids. Sam reached out and placed a hand gently under Frodo's quivering chin and raised his head far enough for their eyes to meet once more.
"And I love you as well," he said quietly. "I always have."
Frodo smiled, the tears spilling over his cheeks again. "I know," he whispered.
Sam grinned, and pulled Frodo into his arms once more.
"Oh, Sam, I've missed you so much," Frodo whispered into his friend's shirt. Sam's arms around him tightened.
"And I've missed you," he replied. "And begging your pardon, sir, but you were wrong."
Frodo pulled away just far enough to meet Sam's solemn gaze. "About what?"
Sam's mouth twitched into a half-smile and he reached up to brush his fingertips over the curve of Frodo's cheek, catching a tear with one gentle finger.
"You told me I could not always be torn in two," he whispered, leaning in close. "But I have been, Frodo. Until now."
Frodo's heart clenched and then something burst in him. "Oh, Sam," he whispered, gazing at his friend for a long moment before pulling him back into his arms, resting Sam's head on his shoulder. "So have I," he whispered, and Sam held him tighter, "but never again, Sam."
And Sam echoed, "No, sir. Never again."
For a long time they stood locked in a tender embrace. It was not the desperate embrace of before, but somehow, to Frodo and Sam, it was far dearer. It was no longer frantic, but rather gentle and patient; it spoke of eternity, and eternity was, indeed, what they now had to look forward to.
Finally they drew apart again once more.
"Come on, Sam," Frodo said, taking his friend's arm and drawing him out of the clearing, back into the forest towards the settlement. "Let's go say hello. There are some other people that I'm sure will want to see you."
As they walked away, the setting sun cast it's glow once more through the leaves, leaving a dappled golden pattern on the carpet of grass and leaves that reminded Sam of the golden summers of his youth. He smiled at the sight. He knew, as he walked along in companionable silence with Frodo, that he'd come home at last.
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a/n: One more chapter to go!! :)