"Don't you think we should be headin' back by now, Mr. Frodo?" asked Samwise, stifling a yawn. They had been walking for hours, and though he would never admit it, his young legs were tired, and he couldn't go much farther.
"Nonsense, Sam!" said Frodo brightly, but he, too, was feeling tired. Suddenly he looked up at the sky in alarm. Darkness had been covering the forest so gradually that he hadn't noticed it, but now he looked up in horror at the swollen clouds about to burst over their heads.
"Um, never mind," he said. "Have some more bread?" he added, holding the pack out to Sam, who nodded gleefully and took a large slice. "We'd best be getting back," he said, still trying to sound cheerful, but Sam wasn't fooled. They spent so much time together that Sam could practically finish Frodo's sentences, and he could sense Frodo's growing alarm.
"Don't worry, Mr. Frodo," he said. "We'll be all right. I'll always be all right when you're with me," he added confidently, leaning his head against Frodo's shoulder. Frodo slowly stood up, closed the pack again, and said "Well, let's be off then."
"Which way?" asked Sam, and they both realized at the same moment that they were lost.
"I think we came from over there…" Frodo started uncertainly, and then was suddenly just as sure that they had come from the other direction. He closed his eyes as hot tears stung his cheeks and he realized he had no idea where he was, or in which direction home lay. Sam, to make matters worse, leapt up and bounded confidently off in the direction Frodo had pointed. "Sam, come back," he said. "We're lost."
Sam's face fell. "I know, Mr. Frodo," he said softly. "I just thought that was as good a way as any to try." Frodo smiled wanly and followed him off among the trees.
Ten minutes later, they were in a large clearing, but still not sure where they were. Frodo seemed to remember coming through it on the way, but Sam said he didn't, and it looked for all the world like the last three clearings they had been through. Sam gave a hopeless whimper and reached up to grasp Frodo's hand. He had absolute faith in Frodo. Frodo would get him through this; he always did. Frodo could do anything.
Just then the rain began to fall, in large, unforgiving drops that made it clear that they meant business. They pelted the ground ferociously, knocking leaves away from the forest floor and soaking everything within a few minutes.
"I'm cold, Frodo," said Sam. Frodo pulled off his pack and cloak, wrapping the latter around Samwise's shoulders and securing it with his pin. "But won't you be cold?" Sam asked, concerned.
"I'll be fine, Sam," he answered. "But it's too long for you to walk. I'll have to carry you." He lifted the pudgy young hobbit onto his shoulders and started briskly off in the direction of what he hoped was home.
"Yay! A ride!" said Sam, but his enthusiasm soon diminished, and he fell into an exhausted sleep, his sodden head pressed against Frodo's cheek. Frodo leaned into the wind, shivering. He was cold without his cloak, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered now, except to press on and find Hobbiton. He wiped his wet hair from his eyes and continued.
He walked like this for perhaps an hour, and finally sat down on a log in despair. "Oh, it's no good. We shall never find it again, and we shall drown, just like…just like my parents." He shuddered in horror at the memory of hearing the news, that day something inside him died, never to be found again. "No. I won't go that way. And if I must, then I must, but I'm not taking Samwise with me. He, at least, has a future. I must go on, if only for his sake." He glanced to his left and noticed a cave of sorts. It was a narrow overhang of rock over a small hollow, just large enough to shelter the two of them. The previous occupant, probably a badger or some sort of rodent, had long gone. He crawled under the rock, pulling Samwise down beside him, and curled himself into a tight ball. Sam snored contentedly beside him as his burning tears fell into the dust.
"Nonsense, Sam!" said Frodo brightly, but he, too, was feeling tired. Suddenly he looked up at the sky in alarm. Darkness had been covering the forest so gradually that he hadn't noticed it, but now he looked up in horror at the swollen clouds about to burst over their heads.
"Um, never mind," he said. "Have some more bread?" he added, holding the pack out to Sam, who nodded gleefully and took a large slice. "We'd best be getting back," he said, still trying to sound cheerful, but Sam wasn't fooled. They spent so much time together that Sam could practically finish Frodo's sentences, and he could sense Frodo's growing alarm.
"Don't worry, Mr. Frodo," he said. "We'll be all right. I'll always be all right when you're with me," he added confidently, leaning his head against Frodo's shoulder. Frodo slowly stood up, closed the pack again, and said "Well, let's be off then."
"Which way?" asked Sam, and they both realized at the same moment that they were lost.
"I think we came from over there…" Frodo started uncertainly, and then was suddenly just as sure that they had come from the other direction. He closed his eyes as hot tears stung his cheeks and he realized he had no idea where he was, or in which direction home lay. Sam, to make matters worse, leapt up and bounded confidently off in the direction Frodo had pointed. "Sam, come back," he said. "We're lost."
Sam's face fell. "I know, Mr. Frodo," he said softly. "I just thought that was as good a way as any to try." Frodo smiled wanly and followed him off among the trees.
Ten minutes later, they were in a large clearing, but still not sure where they were. Frodo seemed to remember coming through it on the way, but Sam said he didn't, and it looked for all the world like the last three clearings they had been through. Sam gave a hopeless whimper and reached up to grasp Frodo's hand. He had absolute faith in Frodo. Frodo would get him through this; he always did. Frodo could do anything.
Just then the rain began to fall, in large, unforgiving drops that made it clear that they meant business. They pelted the ground ferociously, knocking leaves away from the forest floor and soaking everything within a few minutes.
"I'm cold, Frodo," said Sam. Frodo pulled off his pack and cloak, wrapping the latter around Samwise's shoulders and securing it with his pin. "But won't you be cold?" Sam asked, concerned.
"I'll be fine, Sam," he answered. "But it's too long for you to walk. I'll have to carry you." He lifted the pudgy young hobbit onto his shoulders and started briskly off in the direction of what he hoped was home.
"Yay! A ride!" said Sam, but his enthusiasm soon diminished, and he fell into an exhausted sleep, his sodden head pressed against Frodo's cheek. Frodo leaned into the wind, shivering. He was cold without his cloak, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered now, except to press on and find Hobbiton. He wiped his wet hair from his eyes and continued.
He walked like this for perhaps an hour, and finally sat down on a log in despair. "Oh, it's no good. We shall never find it again, and we shall drown, just like…just like my parents." He shuddered in horror at the memory of hearing the news, that day something inside him died, never to be found again. "No. I won't go that way. And if I must, then I must, but I'm not taking Samwise with me. He, at least, has a future. I must go on, if only for his sake." He glanced to his left and noticed a cave of sorts. It was a narrow overhang of rock over a small hollow, just large enough to shelter the two of them. The previous occupant, probably a badger or some sort of rodent, had long gone. He crawled under the rock, pulling Samwise down beside him, and curled himself into a tight ball. Sam snored contentedly beside him as his burning tears fell into the dust.
