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Sam awoke to the sound of chirping crickets and an empty bedroll next to him. In a second, he was up on his feet and ready to wake up the rest of the fellowship because Mr. Frodo was gone, surely some orcs had kidnapped him while they slept soundly, god knows whatever they might be doing to him now—
But before he could wake the others with his yelling, he caught sight of a figure slipping into the forest around the little glade they had settled in for the night.
His poor heart which was not used at all to this kind of dangerous adventures seemed to stop for a second before he recognized the dark green cloak and black curls. He released a deep sigh, sure that he would start to go gray sooner than later if this kept up.
His face shifted into an expression of worry. He hadn't been fond of Frodo's decision to carry the ring to Mordor in the first place, but he had no say in the matter. That was primarily why he was here, to make sure his master would go and come back from Mordor unscathed. And his task also included all the middle parts, such as making sure Mr. Frodo ate and slept correctly, or as much as it was possible. He wanted to assist in the most minuscule details like this, seeing as he didn't have Aragorn's ranger knowledge, or Legolas' skill with the bow, or Gandalf's magic. If he couldn't do much, well, what he could he wanted to do the best he was capable of.
So why was Frodo awake so late at night? It made him uneasy knowing that he was so vulnerable to any attacks, astray from the loose circle they had formed when settling in before going to sleep, deliberately keeping the ringbearer in the middle of it.
Oh. He felt as if someone had dropped a bucket full of cold, freezing water down his back.
What if it was the Ring? Whispering all sorts of nasty things into his master's ear, all day long. He didn't have a full understanding of the effect it had upon the one who bore it, but he understood enough. From what he'd heard in snippets of Gandalf's and Aragorn's conversations, he knew that blasted ring could drive Frodo mad.
And he'd seen Frodo get a glazed, troubled look in his eyes in their long walks. It was as if he was possessed, or something along those lines. Luckily, it wasn't a frequent occurrence, but it still made him nervous. But what if it was happening right now?
He couldn't let him just wander off in that state!
He hurried towards the trees Frodo had disappeared between.
" Mr. Frodo!" he half-whispered, not wanting to attract any unwanted attention from whatever wild animal or orc roamed around.
The moon provided enough light so he could see where he was stepping, but he couldn't make out any figure between the tall and wide tree's trunks. Just when he was beginning to panic and consider going back to camp to wake everyone up, he saw him.
In a small clearing, where the tree's branches turned away and made an opening for the white light of the moon to pass through. It was...ironic as it was beautiful. To have such a stunning meadow in an eerie place as this.
There he stood, his back turned to him. Sam sighed in relief. He was staring up at the star-cluttered sky, seemingly unaware of his arrival.
"Mr. Frodo?" he called out, taking slow steps closer. Frodo's body flinched and tensed, then relaxed as he realized who the voice belonged to.
"Sam," he acknowledged him, his voice quiet but in the dead of night, he had no problem understanding him. He still hadn't turned. "What are you doing here?"
Sam stopped, his mouth open as he found his words. The monotone tone his master spoke in took him by surprise, and if he was being honest, it hurt him a little. "I was looking for you," he answered after a beat of silence.
A few long seconds passed, not a word being exchanged between them.
"You can't run off like that in the middle of the night, Mr. Frodo," he said, "You almost scared me to death!"
Another beat of silence.
Crickets chirped. An owl hooted in the distance.
"Are you alright, Mr. Frodo?" he asked, apprehension filling his voice. All this strangeness was only solidifying his fear.
"I'm sorry, Sam," his master said, finally turning around to face him. He shot him a tired-looking smile that didn't reach his weary eyes, probably intended to reassure him, but it only served to concern him all the more. "I didn't mean to upset you."
It struck him how pale he looked under the moonlight. How his eyes had sunken in and his cheeks had become more hollow since the start of their journey. Not only that, but he'd noticed how a veil of constant tiredness had draped over him, weighing down on him as a heavy load resting around his neck.
"What are you doing out here? You should be sleeping, like the others," Sam began, "We'll all need the rest, Mr. Frodo, tomorrow will be a long day."
Frodo looked down at the ground. "I know, Sam. I just... couldn't stop turning and tossing around in my bedroll, so I figured a walk would help me calm down," he explained, returning to stare at him with big, exhausted blue eyes.
"Oh," he said eloquently as a blush rose to his cheeks, suddenly feeling quite silly. "Well, with all due respect, sir, you could have asked anyone to make you company, if you don't mind me saying. These woods out here sure don't make me feel safe at all, who knows what kind of creatures there might be here, waiting for a chance to make a move on us. Reminds me of the Old Forest back at The Shire, it sure does."
He clamped his mouth shut before he could continue to ramble. He'd noticed he tended to do that whenever he was nervous.
"You're right, Sam," he said, a gloomy look taking over his eye. "It was unwise of me to wander off like that. I put the mission in danger."
Sam came closer to him, eyes widening and hands coming up in a placating manner.
"No, no! I did not mean it like that!" He spluttered over his mistake. Oh dear, there goes my big mouth making it all worse.
"I'm deeply sorry, Mr. Frodo. What I meant was—was that I was worried about you!" He choked on air, his pointy ears bright red at this point. "I, I didn't mean to sound rude, please forgive me."
What was he even thinking about? Admonishing his employer? Not only did he step out of line, but he also made him feel guilty.
"No, it's okay," Frodo said calmly reassuring him," I know you had no ill intentions, what I said just... slipped out of my mouth." He sighed, his shoulders slumped.
He sat down on the ground, cross-legged, and he patted the space on his right with his hand. There was that tired half-smile again, somehow managing to be melancholic and sweet at the same time. "Would you mind making me company for a little while?"
For a whole lifetime, if you'd let me. He chastised himself mentally. He couldn't indulge in those passing thoughts.
"Uh, not at all!" He answered quickly, noticing his silence had prolonged for more than expected.
He willed his feet to move until he was next to Frodo, plopping down in the same cross-legged position. He looked at his master from the corner of his eye, finding that same profile he'd traced over with his eyes hundreds of times in just about any place they happened to be together in.
Sam swallowed.
After some seconds of quiet, Frodo laid down on his back. "Let's watch the stars, would you like that, Sam?"
There was no saying no to that worn-out tone. Not that he'd say no in any case.
"I certainly would, Mr. Frodo." He laid down.
The sky above them was deep black with streaks of purple and blue here and there, dotted with thousands of little white specks everywhere. He could even notice some constellations, though he knew not their names.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Frodo asked quietly, barely above a whisper.
"Yes," Sam replied in awe.
A comfortable silence fell over them for a few minutes, both content in just enjoying the moment.
"Mr. Frodo?"
"Yes, Sam?"
"If it's not terribly improper of me, may I ask you why you are so restless tonight?"
Enough seconds passed to make him start formulating an apology before Frodo answered.
"It's always talking to me, Sam. Whispering." He felt a chill go down his spine, even if he expected that response somehow. "The Ring," he said, as if an explanation was needed. Sam turned his head slowly to look at him as he talked.
"It... constantly weighs down on my mind. And I also find myself dreading whatever might happen in this journey, Sam. Whatever might happen to anyone in the fellowship," he continued, his voice tense," They came on this trip wittingly putting themselves in danger, all for a slim chance of a simple Hobbit they met not long ago destroying a ring of power."
"They have families and friends that care about them. Aragorn found a father in Elrond, and love in his daughter. Legolas has a father and his people to lead. Gimli has his kinsmen in Erebor. Boromir has the whole kingdom of Gondor in his care. They mean something to this world. They matter, and yet they are risking their lives to protect a Hobbit. Thinking of Merry or Pippin dying because of me—" he stopped, a knot in his throat suddenly appearing.
Sam found the reply came easy to him. At least, he could talk from his own position.
"It was their own decision to come on this trip," Sam began talking in a kind voice," It was the union of all races to fight against the evil in this world, Mr. Frodo. No one forced their hand or tricked them into accepting to come. Don't feel guilty for what others have decided."
"And besides, it's because they have people they care about why they're here right now. They're here because they want to fight for their well-being. It's their right to battle against an evil which might take their loved ones from them."
Frodo didn't look completely convinced—nothing would shake off the feeling of guilt at bringing innocents into this— but he seemed to understand why they decided to come better now. Sam counted that as a small victory.
Another easy-going silence fell over them until Frodo broke it with a question.
"Do you remember when we were passing through the Shire?" The sudden change of topic threw him off a little. "When we came across the Wood Elves going to the Grey Havens?"
Yes, he remembered. They seemed to glow with their own light, ethereal beings singing in unison in a language he didn't understand. But he didn't need to understand it to appreciate its beauty. It had been a wonderful spectacle, but a little sad nonetheless.
"Yes, I remember," he said. "We hid behind bushes so they wouldn't see us spying on them."
"Do you remember their song?"
"I don't think I'll ever forget it, even if I didn't understand a single word they said." Sam didn't know where this was heading, but he was happy they had strayed from dark topics. "Lovely, it was." He allowed himself to smile at the memory.
"Lovely indeed." Even Frodo seemed to relax slightly, a small smile playing on his lips. "From what I could understand, they were singing to Elbereth."
Sam paid intent attention to his master. He'd always admired that about him; the desire and hunt for knowledge that made him turn to books and other stuff that gentlehobbits were so fond of.
"Elbereth is a Vala, one of many powerful spirits that helped to shape the world. She is the one the Elves love the most, for she kindled the stars they saw when they first opened their eyes when Middle-Earth was still young," he explained. "The Elves pray and sing praise to her, and she answers not only the prayers of them but of other races as well. Or, well, that's what's said."
"How do you know all that?" Sam asked.
"Gandalf told me, and then I read some books back in Rivendell. I was telling him a summary of our trip, when the thought came to me," Frodo answered. "I know little Sindarin, and Elbereth was a name I had seldom heard, so I asked him."
Frodo turned to look at him, and Sam felt his heart skip a beat at being caught staring.
"I think the Elves are very wise to believe that, don't you think Sam?"
He was too entranced in the light blue of Frodo's eyes to know what he was referring to for a moment. But how could he not be, when he looked so devastatingly beautiful with the way the white light shone on him?
"Yeah!" He started, realizing Frodo expected his answer. "The stars are, are surely very beautiful things, it's no wonder they workship her!"
And, not to help with his nerves at all, Frodo smiled at him. Small, no teeth showing, but real.
It felt like his heart did a somersault, had been impaled, and stopped all at once, so Sam was the first to break the eye contact. The stars, he found, were much easier to look at, though not more alluring.
"Look there, Sam, there's the Sickle," Frodo said, and pointed to the sky. Sam looked at where he pointed and there it was.
Seven dots placed perfectly to form the shape of a sickle, therefore its name. It shone brighter than the stars surrounding it, and Sam found himself awestruck again.
"It was wrought by her just before the elves awoke from their sleep." Sam thought about just how relaxing it was to listen to Frodo's voice narrating old stories. "And it also was a warning and challenge to an ancient evil that lurked in those days. Of its future downfall."
Frodo huffed. "Gandalf chose not to elaborate on that part. Said that we had no need to dawdle over the dark parts of the story."
"Well, sir, I actually kind of agree with him. It's enough having to go through what you do, no need to listen about other awful villains," Sam said, and Frodo chuckled.
"Of course you do, Sam." He said it with such amused fondness that Sam felt a blush bloom on his cheeks. "I guess I can see why he wouldn't tell me," he said with a sigh.
"But I also can fill in the gaps on my own," he frowned. "I think it was something comparable to him, if not greater, as even the Valar were involved." Sam's eyes were fixated once again on his profile.
Frodo's hand snaked down on the grass, taking ahold of a lone daisy and ripping it from the ground. He continued to speak as he observed it intently. "But Elbereth's foretold doom of this evil became true, and it was probably more because of whatever actions they took, but I think the Sickle, or all the constellations she kindled took part in it. Even in an indirect way."
"Maybe whenever they were overwhelmed with despair and anguish, maybe they looked at the sky and thought there is still hope. Maybe it was the anchor they needed to keep on fighting until the end. A light that shone even when they felt as if they were being swallowed by a dark abyss." The daisy was crushed in his hand, then it was dropped on the ground. His hand followed and laid limply by his side.
Frodo sighed. Sam listened.
"I just hope it will help me, too, Sam. I hope it will."
His voice was so small, so fragile in that moment, that Sam felt something in his chest tighten.
"I'm sure it will, Mr. Frodo," he said, his tone soft and gentle. "Right now, it may seem an impossible quest, but it's our only chance. We need to have faith, Mr. Frodo. If we carry on with hope and courage, we just might destroy the ring and be done with all of this just in time for spring to start."
"We can look up at the stars whenever we need to. Whenever it gets too much, when we're too tired to take another step," as he spoke, Sam's hand crept closer to his. "And if we cannot, then..."
He took Frodo's hands and intertwined their fingers in an impulsive act of braveness —or foolishness, he couldn't decide—that surprised him. But he couldn't stop there.
"Then I'll do my best to give you hope, Mr. Frodo."
Frodo looked at him, and Sam saw surprise written all over his face—big blue eyes widened, mouth slightly agape.
Just enough seconds passed for Sam to start to think this was a horrible idea, what was he even thinking, when Frodo's expression melted into affection, and there was that smile again. It made Sam sigh in relief.
"My dear Sam," he said so sweetly, and squeezed his hand. Sam was convinced he could pass out at any moment.
"I mean it, Mr. Frodo," he said, thanking the gods for this sudden burst of confidence. "So, don't shut us away when you feel this way. Don't shut me away."
Frodo's smile only grew, and while he seemed tempted to give in, there was something in his eyes that knew none of the Fellowship would ever fully understand him. But that was okay, Sam didn't need to understand to offer comfort. To be there when his master needed him.
"I..." Frodo said quietly. Something shifted in his expression, and he licked his lips nervously. "I'll try my best. I promise."
Sam knew that was as good as he was going to get, so he took it and smiled softly at him. His chest felt a little lighter nonetheless.
They fell into a pleasant silence and continued to stare up at the stars.
The Sickle shone brighter as if waving hello. The crickets kept singing. The night went on.