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“I'm sorry our adventure was never meant to end with a dragon.” Gollum had gone away, off hunting or snuffling or whatever the creature did when he left Frodo and Sam to rest. These words were the first properly spoken between them since the day's march had begun, Sam's thoughts too preoccupied with food and keeping an eye on both Frodo and their wayward guide, while the burden grew heavier and more draining upon Frodo with each step eastward.
“Ain't nothin' to apologize for,” Sam shifted in the dark, reaching out to touch Frodo's hand in the dark, to offer comfort. It was still and cold. Unnerved, he gently chafed it in hopes of warming it. Frodo continued to stare, it seemed, past, or even through him, listless and far away, the gleam in his eye dull, perhaps even gone. “I knowed it wouldn't be like Mr. Bilbo's tale since I heard you an' Gandalf talkin' that day. I was ready for that.”
Sam wasn't sure Frodo had quite heard him. “I wanted to take you adventuring someday, you know.” That much was true, Sam knew; Frodo had mentioned it occasionally in passing in their tweenhoods, wanting to go leaping off into the Blue down the Road, after Bilbo and all those Tooks Gandalf had spirited away. There had never been a proper moment, though, nor a company of dwarves bearing a contract to sweep them off to a treasure-laden series of adventures.
No, their Quest was not to gain treasure but to lose one. Sam remembered Frodo had not been truly happy – unbridled, unburdened and joyful, as he'd once been when they were young – since that fateful visit from Gandalf all those years ago. There had been moments of almost pure and untained joy, but Sam knew the Ring weighed ever in Frodo's mind, and he knew it brought more pains to him than Sam could see or know. “Wanted?” was all Sam could manage, feeling his throat suddenly dry at his loss for words.
“You know we're not meant to go back again, Sam.” It frightened Sam how still and almost lifeless Frodo's hand was. He squeezed it.
“Don't talk like that.” he managed, emotion coming into his voice and making him sound less sure of himself and more desperate. “That ain't no good, thinkin' that way. It don't matter what's at the end; only here an' now.”
Suddenly Frodo's eyes were aware again, even if they held little light, and he looked at Sam suddenly, with fear in them that pierced Sam's heart. “Do you really believe that?” he asked quietly. “Can you really not think of what awaits us, Sam?”
“I ration the food,” said Sam, trying to sound obstinate and holding Frodo's hand tighter, now more for himself than Frodo, “an' I mind after that stinker, an' slinker too. An' I make sure you're getting' on. Them's all that is as matters to me, an' I ain't got no place worryin' about what ain't on my plate yet, 'cause what's already there needs all my thought.” This was something of a fib, an act which the Gaffer would've clouted his ear for, but perhaps even Sam's father could be moved to pity and forgive this one. Sam did worry about what the next steps of their journey were, but he knew he would risk collapse and never rise again if he even considered they might not manage to make their way back. The end of their Quest meaning the end of their lives, meant a world without Frodo, and that did not bear thinking about.
Frodo seemed to wilt as his eyes fell away again and he lay back. “I wish I could hold such fervent hope in my own heart, and guide my thoughts as I willed them.”
Feeling suddenly courageous, but also desperately sad and afraid for Frodo, Sam raised Frodo's clasped hand between his own and kissed it. “Let me do the hopin' then. I promise you sommat, I can hope enough for the both of us.” He caught Frodo's eye, and continued, “Remember them orchids Mr. Bilbo wanted to grow so bad that time in the back garden? An' how the Gaffer couldn't even suss out when them fussy things was needin'? An' I just kept at it for all them weeks on end, lookin' to see if they had too much or little light, or water, or even if the wind were botherin' 'em? An' even after the Gaffer gave up, I kept at it, an' then by Forelithe, 'cuz of all my fussin' for those flowers, Mr. Bilbo finally had that orchid patch he'd wanted so bad?”
Frodo's lips twitched, and Sam's heart swelled. “Yes, I remember. You were so stubborn, and the Gaffer and Bilbo both got so frustrated with how much time you spent on what they started insisting was a worthless venture. And yet you made those flowers bloom like a pool of living gemstones a dwarf or an elf alike would've wept to see.” Frodo's gaze sobered again, as little as it had lightened, though it was a different look; more thoughtful, Sam thought, as Frodo's gaze lowered to their joined hands. “You have always had a special touch and special heart, Sam. Strong, but gentle, each given in the needed time; and big and so full of love for every one and everything.” He smiled again, remembering. “From the smallest blade of grass to the Shire's biggest tree.” The smile grew, and as he looked up at Sam, he pulled their hands against his chest, and Sam closer to him. Sam could feel the beat of his heart; an assurance life, and hope was still there. “You hold so very much love. And I think, now, love is hope.
“And if it is, I believe too you have enough to see us there and back again.” Frodo brought his other hand up to cover Sam's. “Were it not for that,” his happy light dimmed again, “I would be lost, Samwise. Thank you for guiding and bearing me, with so much love and hope.”
Sam felt his face getting warm, even up to his eartips. “Love comes from love.” his words came unbidden, but they seemed right. He hoped they were. “Right enough I don't know any other hobbit than me that's been so blessed wi' the love I've known, knowing you.” He wasn't sure how it came to pass, but soon enough he was sitting at and leaning against Frodo's side. “Mr. Pippin was right, in the end, that I would jump down a dragon's throat for you. I know there ain't one away at that Mountain, an' so I won't. Instead I'll keep doin' as I'm doin', keepin' you goin' and makin' sure that Gollum don't lead us to a bad end, an' I'll see us through.”
Frodo pressed them closer together, and Sam felt the impulse to wrap his arm around Frodo's shoulder. The gesture was not unwelcome as Frodo curled against him. “And I in turn won't fail you.” Frodo murmured, and they were cheek to cheek, supporting one another. “I could not, in the face of a gift of such magnitude given so freely.”
“You don't got to do this for me.”
“But I do,” said Frodo, quiet and yet direly serious, “this is for everyone, born and yet unborn and every person past, spanning all the way back to the dawn of life. It is inextricably for you, Samwise. For that, and also that you are chief among all the companions of my heart. I must do this for you.”
Sam's eyes swam, and he felt Frodo's hand against his cheek, wiping away his tears. “You do so much for me,” Frodo murmured, “I must do what I can for you.”
In the most bittersweet way, Sam's heart broke, and he sobbed. Frodo's arms came round him, and they held one another. “Just don't let that go away,” Sam choked, “don't lose it, Frodo; you can't. That's the thing I'm workin' so hard to keep safe and strong.”
Frodo's gentle hand smoothed his hair away from his face. “I know, my dear. I won't lose it.”
There was a pause, and Sam quieted and stilled when Frodo placed a kiss against his temple. His heart pounded still, but the tension that gripped his frame shifted from distress to surprise. He managed to wipe his nose on his sleeve, and said as clearly as he could manage, “When we get back, I'm gonna plant another orchid patch at Crickhollow. I don't care how finicky them flowers are, they're gonna be at their best for you.”
Frodo tucked another strand of hair behind Sam's ear. “I know. And I'll relish in their beauty each and every day. Especially when you are there beside me.”
Sam shifted and held Frodo closer and tighter. “I ain't goin' nowhere, not ever.”
“I know.”
Sam did not know if Frodo viewed their kiss as the seal of a promise they wouldn't break. Sam did, though that was something he decided much later.
In the moment all he thought and felt was Frodo's very self, somehow an opalescent light, shining colors of all sorts and new patterns and shades every time you gazed at it from a new angle. It was courageous and bright, though it needed strong hands to protect it and gentle hands to guide it.
For which Sam's hands were perfect.
Sam did know Frodo knew that.