Chapter Text
Four years ago
Merry and Sam walked back to Bag End from the green dragon pub. Frodo and Pippin had stayed behind to keep up the celebrations but Sam had work in the morning. Now that he was no longer an employee of the Bag End estate he had to find work elsewhere, after all, he couldn't be courting the person who signed his cheques. Fortunately he was very good at his job and his services were in high demand no matter that he didn't enjoy working for Mrs. Bricegirdel quite as much. He still enjoyed the work, and he wouldn't do anything to upset the balance of his relationship with Frodo.
Besides, in true hobbit fashion they had been celebrating all week. Merry and Pippin had arrived The Sunday after their engagement on Friday and it was now the Sunday night of the following week. It had been ceaseless eating, drinking and laughing with his soon to be cousin in laws, as well as receiving well wishes and congratulations from every passerby for 8 straight days.
To be honest, although he would never say this out loud, Sam was glad to get back to work, he didn't think he could keep up with Merry and Pippin much longer.
Speaking of, the older of the pair was being quieter than he had been since he arrived. Probably just dreading travelling home to Buckland with hungover-Pippin.
“You know Sam, I think you may be the best thing to ever happen to Frodo.” The way he said it was pensive, like he had thought long and hard about this.
“Well, thankyou Mr. Merry.” He responded not quite knowing what to say. The three cousins had tried long and hard to break him of his habit of formally addressing them, but he still slipped up sometimes. He could only undo so much of his upbringing.
Merry stopped walking and gave him an appraising look; but it was hard to see in the dark and they were only half way down Bagshot row. “Has Frodo told you much about when he lived with me in Brandy Hall?”
“A little” there were a few stories here and there but mostly when he talked about the past it was always his happy memories with Bilbo.
“ Yeah, I figured. He doesn't like to talk about it much. We shared a room, and it was so cool to be sharing a room with my older cousin. It made me the coolest kid there. I didn't realize until years later how unhappy he was.”
Frodo was never an unhappy person, but he was so young when his parents died and his whole life was up rooted overnight, it would have been weird if he was happy. But of course Merry being so young himself could hardly understand this at the time.
A few years ago when he was visiting Bag End, before Bilbo had left, they were catching up and Frodo made some off handed comment about being “better. A lot better than I was.” It wasn't until that moment that Merry realized the stark contrast in his cousin before and after he moved to Hobbiton. In that moment a dozen memories came flooding back. Every time Frodo would slightly grimace when he heard the word orphan, all the extra chores Frodo would take on himself to prove he was useful, and all the times he woke up from nightmares in the early days after he moved in. As Merry finished telling Sam the story, both their hearts ached a little more for the hobbit they both loved.
“I'm telling you this now Sam, because I need you to understand just what you mean to him. He's never really believed people will stick around for him, and until Bilbo he'd never really had anything that was his own. Sometimes I don't think even he realizes how bad he was back then. But now, especially since Bilbo left, he's willing to call you his forever, and believes that you're gonna stick around for that long.”
“Now you listen up Gamgee and you listen good. There's a reason Pippin and I are so protective of him despite him being older than us, and now we're counting on you to protect him when we can't. I'm not gonna bother telling you not to leave him cause I've already done that. And I won't bother telling you not to hurt him cause I know better than to think you would do that. So I’ll say this; don't let him hurt himself. Don't let him get lost in his own head and too noble for his own good.
"I know that’s an impossible task but whatever you're already doing seems to be working ‘cause I've never seen him this happy. You're a good hobbit Sam Gamgee, keep it up.”
They came up the the front door at the end of Merry’s speech and Sam felt he was going to cry. “Thank you Merry.” because honestly what else could he say after such a passionate speech!? “You're a good friend. To Frodo and me. I won't let you or him down.”
They hugged and went inside. Merry went into the guest room he'd been staying in and Sam sat on the sofa to reflect on this new information. He wasn't reflecting for long however because Merry came back into the room holding a piece of paper.
“what's this?”
“A final nail in the coffin to hammer home my point. The letter he sent me when you two first got together.” he said with a wink, “but please give it back when you're done, I need it to write my best man speech”. With that he left Sam to read and to get ready for bed.
Present day
Frodo woke from another nightmare about all the ways he let down the people he loved. Now that he no longer carried the ring it was starting to sink in just how horrible he had behaved. He had abandon Merry and Pippin in the wilderness with the rest of the fellowship and he had led Gandalf to his death. No amount of healthy coping was going to make that guilt fade, even if he now logically understood that it wasn't his fault, emotionally he just couldn't believe it.
He woke with a start crying out Gandalf's name, watching him fall in his minds eye. He sat up and became aware of his surroundings, he was still sitting on the patch of grass where he fell asleep, only with Sam's cloak across him as a blanket, and his own under his head as a pillow. Sam was stirring a pot a few feet away.
“Oh damn it.” He muttered under his breath and went over to Sam.
“What's wrong love?” Sam must have heard him.
“I fell asleep without helping you cook, or finding food or even setting up the fire! I'm supposed to be taking care of you now, like you did for me when I had the ring and you're still carrying my weight.”
Ah, so that's what he's been doing, Sam thought to himself. Most of the days spent walking Frodo hand been pointing out every thing he saw, usually birds and plants, and trying to make light conversation about it.
Oh look Sam, a robin!, Oh Sam, look at that weird log! Sam look at the bark on that tree it looks like a door!
He was being sweet and trying to keep my spirits up.
“Darlin’ I much prefer you sleeping when you need, to you not sleeping at all like you have been these last few months.” He wanted to say stress is bad for the baby but he knew that comment would be greatly unappreciated, “Beside, you may not be carrying the ring but your still carrying. And that counts for something.”
“Sam, there are several people across the world who are currently pregnant. But there's only one current ring bearer. And as strong and capable as he is, he deserves to have his partner not falling asleep on the job.”
“You've only been asleep for less than an hour!” He can really be a drama queen when he feels guilty about something. “Besides, you passed out the second you sat down, I doubt you could've stayed up much longer if you tried.”
“Oh. Well, I still need to be better. What do you need help with now?”
Sam tried to think of something to make Frodo feel better but honestly there wasn't much to do. “I'm just stirring the broth while I wait for Smeagol to get back, you can either stir, or keep watch if you'd like.”
“I'll keep watch for a bit”. At home They both did their fair share of house making, but Sam was always the better cook. When Frodo was younger, Bilbo had to inforce the ‘no books in the kitchen’ rule (with the exception of cook books) because he kept getting distracted and burning whatever he was trying to make, and on one occasion, accidentally got some sauce on a book.
“Where is Smeagol anyways?” Speak of the devil and he will appear.
“Look hobbits! Look what Smeagol found!” Smeagol dropped two dead coney rabbits in his lap, picked up one and started ripping at it, making crunching sounds as he snapped the bones.
“Stop that, you'll make him sick!” Sam scolded and took the coneys away to clean them. Frodo, while he was feeling nauseous, was proud that he managed to keep the bile down and not throw up.
“Thankyou for getting the meat Smeagol, that was very… efficient hunting”.
Sam added the meat to the stew and Smeagol started whining again “oh here, and quit that racket before half of Mordor knows where we are”, Sam threw him some scraps of raw meat he had saved for him.
Smeagol still hissed and scowled but he seemed appeased with his scraps.
The stew was nowhere near up to shire quality, but it was the first cooked meal they had in days, and Sam made it, so it was the most delicious meal ever. Even if they didn't have any potatoes.
Sam and Smeagol were… debating cooking methods, when suddenly there was a rumbling sound.
“shush” he hissed. Sam mistakes this for ‘stop arguing’ rather than ‘stop talking’.
“Sorry love-”
“Shush!” The rumbling sound was getting louder. “Do you year that?” But he didn't wait for Sam to answer before he was creeping towards the sound.
Frodo made his way through the brambles on the other side of the clearing. Looking over the cliff, he saw what was making the noise and it filled him with dread. Legions of people, not soldiers but dressed for war, marching towards the black gate.
He jumped a little when Sam came up from behind and put his hand on his shoulder. He settled into his side and brought his left arm across his chest to Sam's right shoulder and Sam brought his left arm across his back. The stared, holding each other, looking down at the armies moving to defensible position, knowing that they would likely be fighting against people they knew.
“They're not Orcs.” his voice felt disconnected from his body, it was difficult to comprehend that people would choose to pledge allegiance to Sauron. What circumstances had led them here? “They weren't bred for this. They shouldn't be anymore that we should” Sam said nothing and held him a little tighter.
They were just about to turn away, when they heard another louder, more alien noise. Like the largest tuba in the world being played by stone giants (Although Sam thought it sounded more like his dad snoring).
“Sam look!” there were great beasts, larger than a hobbit could comprehend, with tusks the length of trees. “Oliphants!”
“No one back home is gonna believe us” Sam's eyes were as wide as dinner plates. When Bilbo was teaching Sam to read, there was one book that had oliphants that he would request over and over again. Eventually Bilbo just let him keep the book and Sam kept reading until he had it memorized. He started spouting oliphant poetry he had written in the margins of that book. (Sam was quite a good poet and in, Frodo's incredibly biased opinion, did not get half as much credit for such a skill).
And for a moment Frodo could imagine that they were back home, and Sam was just rehearsing his poetry for him by the fire.
“Do you think our faunt would like to see oliphants someday?”
“Do you think there'll be any left?”
The moment ended. Chaos erupted as several men burst from the surrounding trees and started firing arrows at a lone charging oliphant.
“We've stayed here too long,” Frodo crouched and started back through the bushes and brambles but Sam stayed frozen where he was. “Come on Sam!”
Suddenly there was big person in front of him, grabbing and lifting him up into the air. With the shock and fear of it all he barely had time to yell out “I'm gonna be sick!” Before he was throwing up.
The big person was taken off guard by the hobbit throwing up in his arms and dropped him on the ground. Luckily Frodo had managed to go limp enough to avoid breaking a wrist or an ankle. Unfortunately he did not avoid landing in his own vomit. His left shoulder and sleeve soaked in bile, the wind was knocked out of his lungs and he ached all over.
“Ew”
The second he heard Frodo in danger Sam had snaped out of his daze and drew his sword. But there were too many of them (and they were much bigger) and he was quickly knocked down with a sword pointed at his neck.
Frodo got up again and tried to tackle the man threatening Sam, but was just as quickly being restrained but said man.
“What are children doing out in these woods?” One of the men asked.
Before Frodo could stop himself he yelled out “hey kid, I'm fifty!”
Their pleas of innocence went unheard as their hands were bound and they were marched off. They were also blindfolded which resulted in multiple stubbed toes. They couldn't even see each other. Frodo would've given anything at that moment to see Sam, to just make eye contact enough to reassure him that everything would be alright. Actually while I'm wishing for stuff, I'll wish that this stupid quest was over and done with and we were already back home by the fire. But for now I'd settle for eye contact and to be not covered in vomit.
Finally they arrived at what must have been the camp of these ruffians, their blindfolds removed and they were met by a red haired human who kind of looked like Boromir. Oh come on Fordo, not every human with red hair looks like Boromir.
“My men tell me you're orc spies.” said the human.
“Spies!? Now wait just a minute-”
“Well if you're not spies then what are you?”
They exchanged glances, several questions were asked between them in the two seconds of eye contact in a way that could only happen between people who had known each other as they had.
“My name is Frodo, and he's Sam.” Answered Frodo. Unlike Bilbo, who casually gave his full name and address to people he met in caves, Frodo had his uncle's example to learn from.
“And who are you?” he turned to Sam, “his bodyguard?”
“his, gard'ner.” Sam hesitated as he said it.
Good thinking Sam, Frodo thought to himself but wanted to say out loud. Boromir might have been respectful but wasn't the most understanding about our relationship, best not to risk anything. Besides, the less they know about us the better.
“And where is your skulking friend?”
Shit I forgot about Smeagol. I'm going to be a horrible parent. “There was no other” he told Boromir of how they set out with 9 companions.
He informed them of Boromir's death and ordered them into a cell.
“Wait,” Frodo called before he could be shoved away.
“You are in no position to be making requests, halfling.”
It irked him, but it seemed like the wrong time to point out that most hobbits consider halfling to be a slur. “Be that as it may, I'm going to make one anyways. Your men were quite rough with me and I was sick, and I'm sure you can see and smell from my clothes.”
Faramir had noticed the putrid stains but it didn't seem polite or relevant to bring them up.
“I have a change of clothes in one of the bags you confiscated from us. All I ask is a few minutes of privacy to dress?”
After a moment of consideration Faramir conceded, but whether it was from not wanting to spread disease to his men, pity, or just not wanting to smell Frodo’s disgusting shirt was unclear.
Frodo was escorted to a separate room (really it was a cave with some boxes stacked as a door) while Sam was taken away to a separate cell. He didn't want to risk looking suspicious by requesting that Sam stay with him. Big people's chronic underestimation of hobbits was probably the only reason they allowed him to be alone.
The guard shoved him into the room and tossed his bag in after. It had obviously been searched. He removed his soiled shirt and crumpled it in a ball. He had to be quick about getting dressed since flaunting the mithril shirt while being captured would be incredibly stupid. Despite that, this was the first time in weeks that he had decent privacy, and he needed to check something.
He removed the chain mail and under shirt, and just as he suspected, it was more difficult than it was the last time. He was starting to show. Just barely, and you couldn't tell under the layers, but it was definitely there. He was only 9 weeks and five days along (one of the guards was nice enough to tell him the date), and typically people wouldn't start showing until 12-16 weeks along. But with the constant exercise and eating less than half as much as he was used to he had lost considerable weight.
He dressed quickly and quietly as he could and knocked on the crate for the guard to take him back to Sam.
They rushed to each other the second they were in view and embraced as tightly as they could. The second Frodo was in his arms Sam felt the ring's voice become quieter. with all the humans around he could feel it calling out, trying to claim a more corruptible host.
“Did they hurt you?” They both asked simultaneously.
“Boromir is dead” it was unclear which one of them said it. The news of their friend's death was devistating, there were fat tears were rolling down their cheeks and Frodo felt Sam's soaking into his shoulder, well, it's better than vomit.
“What are we going to do?” Frodo looked into the fear and uncertainty in his husbands face, and in the span of few seconds had a mental conversation with himself.
Damn it Baggins get a grip. There will be time to grieve later, Yavana knows you've done it before. Sam needs you to take charge, if he's going to take the ring to Mordor you have to get him there, and what we need now is a plan. Frodo held Sam's face in his hands, wiped away his tears with his thumbs and took a deep breath.
"Okay, here's the situation"