I'm back with another "anniversary of Weathertop" story! This one is quite dark at points, and if you're triggered by thoughts of self harm or by unreality please go read another fic 3 also please note that I'm going to try and start updating on this site again, but I'm much more active on my ao3, I post there multiple times a month. So if you want more frequent updates and you have an ao3 account, I'm there under the same name :) thanks for reading! Comments are much appreciated!
Chapter 1: Shadow
On October the first, Sam came into the smial for supper and found Frodo sitting at the table, staring out of the window.
"I'm all right," Frodo said in answer to Sam's questions, but that was all he would say. His eyes looked glassy, his pupils enlarged, and when he thought Sam wasn't looking he rubbed his left shoulder as if it pained him. Sam got him to eat a little bit of supper, but he refused dessert.
"I don't really feel like myself," he finally admitted, when he and Sam had curled up on the sofa in the parlor. He stared into the fireplace, red flames flickering, reflected, in his eyes. Then he turned to look at Sam, smiling softly. "But it is October."
"Yes," Sam agreed. "I'd hoped you'd be better this year." He smoothed a curl back behind Frodo's ear.
Frodo took Sam's hand and held it in both of his. "Promise me that you won't work too hard this time. Last year you were so exhausted. It worried me."
"I'll try, love," Sam promised. "But I've got to be there for you. I couldn't live with myself otherwise."
Frodo nodded. "I understand. I'm sure I would feel the same way. But send for help if you need it."
Neither Frodo nor Sam liked having to ask for outside help, especially during Frodo's illnesses. They lived alone together at Bag End, and it had been that way since they had returned from the Quest. Sam's family, Merry, Pippin, and the local healers were all happy to help, but none of them really understood what was wrong with Frodo or how to help. Granted, Sam didn't exactly understand either, scientifically speaking, but he knew Frodo better than anyone else and Frodo told him things that he didn't tell even to his cousins. And often there wasn't much that anyone could do for Frodo, apart from loving him, and Sam loved Frodo with an aching devotion. He didn't need anyone else's help with that.
Frodo and Sam crossed out the date on the calendar together. There remained only five blank days left before October sixth, and Frodo sighed.
"I suppose I should work on my book while I still can."
"But not now," said Sam firmly. "You need to go to bed."
Frodo simply laughed and followed Sam to their bedroom. They curled up in bed together, and Sam pulled an extra blanket over them both.
"It's a chilly evenin'," he said.
Frodo quirked an eyebrow. "Hm, really?"
Sam giggled. "All right. I just don't want you to get cold. Y'know you ought to stay as warm and comfy as possible."
"My dear Sam." Frodo wriggled over and buried his face in Sam's chest, and Sam put an arm around him.
"Your Sam will keep you warm," he said.
