Chapter Two: Bargains and Beauty

Sam woke to a strong hand clamped on his shoulder. He opened his eyes slowly, then looked up to see Gandalf standing over him.

"They're taking excellent care of him, Sam," the wizard said gently. "I think Frodo would want you to get some rest. Elrond's had a room fixed up for you right across the hallway."

"We'll call you right away when he wakes up, Sam," said Pippin, who was standing on the other side of the bed next to Merry. "Elrond says he's made wonderful progress. It shouldn't be too much longer. Come on, even Bilbo gave in a few hours ago."

"If it ain't going to be too much longer, then I can wait," said Sam firmly. He had come on this quest mainly to help Frodo, and that was what he was going to do, even if he was weak from fatigue. Besides, Frodo might be alarmed if he woke up and his Sam wasn't there, and alarm was not something Frodo needed.

"Well, we're going to go to bed," said Merry. "My room is across the way and down one and Pippin's is three down to the left on this side of the hall. Tell us when he wakes up." They left out the door, leaving Gandalf and Sam alone with Frodo.

"You won't be much good to Frodo if you're worn-out and exhausted," said Gandalf, a bit more sternly this time.

"Just a bit longer, Mr. Gandalf," Sam pleaded. "I'll make a bargain with you, how's that? If Mr. Frodo hasn't woken by nine-thirty, I'll go off to bed. It's only another four hours, and that won't seem like much after four days, if you follow me."

Gandalf sighed a heavy sigh and ran one hand through his long grey hair. "All right. But I'm holding you to that promise, Samwise Gamgee. If you aren't in bed by nine-thirty, I'll put you there by magic."

"All right, sir, it's a bargain," said Sam. Gandalf smiled and departed.

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Frodo's translucent eyelids were closed, and his breathing was regular and deep now. Even if he hadn't woken yet, Sam was comforted by the fact that he didn't seem to be having nightmares anymore. He rested Frodo's hand in his, and its coldness reawakened his fears.

Though he had known Frodo for years, ever since he came to live at Bag End, Sam was still struck by his beauty. Frodo's skin was like ivory in comparison to his own, which was reddened by the sun. Though most hobbits had brown hair, Frodo was one of the rare ones who had hair the color of the darkest chocolate, so dark that it was almost black. Some days back at home Frodo would come outside to see how the garden was coming, and Sam would look up to see the sun glinting off of his master's hair, bringing out the lighter highlights.

And, after hours upon hours of keeping vigil at his bedside, Sam knew every detail of Frodo's left hand, the one that lay on top of the coverlet. The nails, nicely filed when they had begun their journey, were now bitten down to the cameo-colored part that lay directly on top of his fingers. There was a small cut at the base of his thumb. Yet Frodo's hand, with its long slim fingers and almost incandescent paleness, still gave off a certain elegance.

Some hobbits were plain. Others were pretty. Frodo Baggins was exquisite.

Frodo stirred slightly, his long eyelashes fluttering, and for a second Sam thought he was going to wake up. But Frodo sighed and settled down back into the blankets.

He lay like that for over an hour, and, just as Sam was beginning to think that he should take everyone's advice, Frodo murmured, "Sam."

"I'm here, sir," whispered Sam quickly, and kissed Frodo's hand. Whether his master heard him or not, he could not say.