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“Really Frodo, you should take this one instead,” said Sam, offering Frodo the new blanket, “That ol’ thing has been on its last days for a long while.” He squinted his eyes, “Is that a new hole right there?”
“Sam, it’ll be okay,” Frodo laughed, packing the rather small, old-looking quilt into his bag, “Besides, I like this one better.”
“I can’t really see why,” sighed Sam. The quilt had to have been older than him, his Gaffer could remember the days Sam would run around the house with it in tow as soon as he was able to walk. The stitching could use a lot of work, the squares were either faded or torn, and it hardly kept him warm these days. Unless this was part of Frodo’s complicated plan to finally do away with the thing, Sam couldn’t understand why he’d want to travel with it.
“I just want you to be as comfortable as possible,” said Sam, plopping himself at the edge of the bed. He didn’t mean to dote on Frodo so much but he couldn’t help it. They’d gone on trips before (multiple in fact — Frodo did love to scratch his adventurous itch whenever he could), but this was the first time either of them would be traveling alone since they got together. Logically, Sam knew Frodo was more than capable of making the flight to Rivendell on his own, but it didn’t stop the anxious knot in his belly from forming. It was already worrisome enough that Bilbo suddenly took ill so far away from home, but Frodo had his own health issues to consider as well. And for him to fly without Sam in case something happened...
Sam tried his best to keep the thousands of worst-case scenarios from playing in his head, but it was useless to keep his face from hiding it. As if Sam’s worries was a sixth sense to him, Frodo stopped his packing, walked over and stood before him.
“Sam,” Frodo said, bringing his hands up to cup his face. Their eyes met and Frodo smiled, “I’ll be okay.” His thumb stroked Sam’s cheek soothingly and Sam leaned into the touch (Frodo’s cold hands were not reassuring but they seem to always be cold these days).
“I know you will,” Sam replied, moving his head to plant a lingering kiss onto Frodo’s palm, “I just can’t help it.” Frodo brought their foreheads together kissed the tip of Sam’s nose.
“I’ll still have Uncle Thorin in case I need him,” Frodo reassured. Sam leaned up and pressed the lips together, his arms finding their way around Frodo’s waist, “And you’ll let me know as soon as something happens?”
“Of course!” Frodo smiled, his hands dropping down to Sam’s arms, “Now, while I do love being like this with you, I’m afraid I’ll miss my flight if you keep me here like this.”
*
To the relief of everyone, it turned out to be a scare and Bilbo was expected to make a full recovery, according to Frodo a few days later. Nonetheless, he decided to stay an extra week in order to help his Uncle Thorin out until Bilbo got back on his feet (despite Bilbo’s stubborn insistence that he was fine).
That was all fine and dandy to Sam at first, but then he began to notice how empty their home was without him: how every sound seemed to echo a bit in the silence no matter what he did, the way he would reach over to Frodo’s side of the bed each morning to find it just as empty and cold as it was the night before, and how he would stop before heading out the door each morning for his kiss goodbye before realizing Frodo was not there.
Sam had wanted Frodo to come home soon out of worry, but it was clear now he wanted him home because he missed him so much. It wasn’t enough to see Frodo through a screen each night, he needed to touch him, feel him. He chose keep the depth of his feelings to himself — Frodo was already dealing with his own burdens, no need to add his own foolish thoughts to the pile.
He counted down the days until finally, Sam stood among a small crowd gathering outside the terminal gate. As the small plane touched down on the runway, he felt his heart pound against his chest. He felt silly for missing Frodo as much as he did — it was only two weeks after all — but knowing they would be reunited so soon made him want to go out to the runway and direct the plane to the gate faster.
After some agonizingly slow minutes, the passengers began to stream out of the gate. The crowd dispersed to meet up with their own loved ones, but Sam kept his eyes fixed on the gate until at last, Frodo walked out. He looked exhausted, but his face immediately brightened when his eyes landed on Sam.
“Sam!” He cried as he ran to Sam and threw himself onto him in an embrace.
(Oh, how Sam missed him.)
*
“So, how was your flight?” Sam asked as they drove out of the airport’s small parking lot.
“Alright I suppose, but I’m glad it’s over,” Frodo replied, pulling the old quilt closer to him. He had pulled it out of his bag in order to keep warm during the drive back, but Sam shook his head and sighed. “I’m gonna throw that old thing out once we get back home,” Sam said.
“No you are not,” Frodo protested light-heartedly.
“But it’s not even keeping you warm,” Sam said, turning up the heater dial, “I can see you shivering over there, don’t try to hide it.”
“Yes, it may not be doing its job as well as it used to,” Frodo laughed. Sam was ready to shoot back an answer but he felt a hand settle on top of his thigh, “But, the quilt reminds me of you.”
“Pardon?”
“I knew I’d miss you terribly once I left,” Frodo said. “Along with Bilbo’s illness, I felt as if I’d go mad if I didn’t have something to help anchor me. And I’d say it did its job quite well if I do say so myself."
(Samwise Gamgee, you are a downright fool, Sam thought).
Sam brought a hand down from the steering wheel and placed it on top of Frodo’s, “I missed you too,” Sam said, squeezing his hand on, “So much so it made me ache.”
“Oh, Sam,” Frodo replied, bringing their joined hands up to his lips for a quick kiss.
“But I would like to spruce the quilt up a bit” said Sam, “It looks like if might fall apart if you breathe on it wrong.” Frodo laughed, clear and loud.
“You have yourself a deal!"