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Sam is already out of breath when he reaches the water’s edge. He has spent perhaps the past twenty minutes scouring the mountain in vain for Frodo. The small boat floating in the center of the river appears uninhabited, but he knows that Frodo must be wearing the Ring that allows him to disappear. The initial wave of anger and betrayal has long faded and is replaced with an overwhelming feeling of relief that Frodo has not gone too far to the point where Sam cannot follow. Upon finding out that Frodo had fled with the Ring and what little belongings he had left, Sam was hurt. He had trusted Frodo with his life and thought that Frodo felt the same way. But Frodo left him to face Mordor alone. Does he not think that Sam has what it takes to survive? He knows as well as anyone else that venturing into Mordor has its risks. That is not his fear at that moment, however; the one thought running through the hobbit’s mind is that he let Frodo slip through his fingers. He has been his sworn protector for the entirety of the journey, ever since the fateful day that Frodo asked Sam to accompany him on his journey.
That day, while only a few months prior, now felt like a lifetime ago. Sam had been clearing the weeds from Frodo’s yard; after all, he was his gardener, but more importantly his friend. He was trimming the ivy that grew up the wall of Frodo’s house when he heard an unfamiliar voice. It was too deep to belong to a hobbit, and the conversation sounded entirely too serious for a slow afternoon in the lazy Shire. Peeking over the eaves of the window, Sam saw a long and pointed gray hat. His heart lifted when he realized that Gandalf was paying Frodo a visit! He moved closer to poke his head in and greet them both, but hesitated when he heard bits of their conversation. What was this about a powerful ring? The enemy gathering? Frodo leaving the Shire! Sam couldn’t help but gasp at that terrible thought. Wouldn’t Frodo be in danger? Before he could think too long about what any of this could mean, he found himself yanked upwards by Gandalf and was unceremoniously thrown into Frodo’s sitting room. He could never have anticipated the importance of the brief conversation that ensued. As punishment for eavesdropping (which Sam would never admit to), Gandalf insisted that he join Frodo on his quest. He had been terrified and was about to vehemently refuse and claim that he was content in his warm home in the lovely fields of the Shire, when Frodo asked him personally to join him. His voice seemed hopeful; but when Sam looked into his eyes he saw a hard, almost frightening determination that Sam had never seen before. After that, it didn’t take long for him to agree to follow Frodo. He often thought of Frodo as his dearest friend and would do anything to protect him. He didn’t know what he was getting himself into.
The same feeling he got back then returns to him now as he stares across the rapid waters of the river, the feeling that whatever happens, he will not let Frodo face any dangers all by himself. He is nowhere near as brave as Frodo, but he would follow him anywhere without hesitation. It is this loyalty that has him sprinting towards the water, shouting Frodo’s name before he can even process what he is doing. The bitter cold of the water is what snaps him back to reality. Being unable to swim, he has grown scared of water over the years. Not that there is any body of water larger than a lake back in the Shire, but he has heard tales of the wide expanse of something called “sea” and the unknown dangers lurking there. The immense chill of the river does not stop him from moving, and neither does Frodo’s cry of surprise. His only goal right now is to reach the boat. The water churns up to his waist, his chest, and still he does not stop. Frodo has taken the Ring off of his finger. His expression of concern and horror is the last thing Sam sees before he is completely overtaken by the river.
He cannot breathe. He cannot think. The stinging chill surrounds him completely and numbs him to anything and everything. Squinting in the murky water, he is only vaguely aware that the light from the midday sun above the surface is growing smaller and dimmer. He sees the shape of the bottom of the boat, and a sense of despair washes over him; he has failed to protect Frodo. He could not stop him in time, and now he thinks it is too late to strain for the surface of the river that is pulling him down, down.
And then another shape appears above him.
It’s a hand, Frodo’s hand, plunging into the cold to reach for Sam in a matter of seconds. What felt like an eternity underwater must not have been more than a few moments, as Frodo does not even have to leave the boat to reach right in front of Sam’s face. That hand is enough to pull him out of his spiral. Hope is not lost, Frodo is right there, trying to help Sam. Frodo must not think him completely hopeless, then. It is this thought that spurs him forward. With a newfound determination, Sam lunges forward and desperately clutches the outstretched palm before him.
He crashes through the surface with a gasp. He is floundering and spluttering, likely making a fool of himself. It is a good thing that there are no enemies around here; he is certainly causing enough commotion to wake even a nocturnal owl from its slumber. He forces his eyes open and is startlingly close to Frodo’s blinding blue eyes. With some effort and an order from Frodo to stop moving, Sam is hauled up and over, onto the boat. Frodo quickly turns the boat and makes for the shallow water of the river bank. Sam stumbles out of the boat and stands there, dripping wet and still struggling to catch his breath as Frodo berates him for following after him and nearly drowning while trying to do so. A fresh wave of guilt hits him, but when he looks up and meets Frodo’s eyes, he sees only faint traces of actual anger, but overwhelming and genuine concern as he looks at Sam. Despite being back with Frodo, he cannot help but worry about where Frodo may have been at this very moment had Sam not found him, so he asks him.
“If I hadn’t a guessed right, where would you be now?”
“Safely on my way.”
“Safely!” Sam would have laughed. “All alone and without me to help you? I couldn’t have a borne it, it’d have been the death of me”.
“It would be the death of you to come with me, Sam, and I could not have borne that”.
Of course Frodo was still insisting that he would do this all by himself. Even after rescuing Sam from the clutches of the river, he is still stubborn as ever. While that stubbornness may not be helping Sam’s case at the moment, he admires that aspect of Frodo’s personality. He holds firm to his beliefs and is courageous yet selfless. From the moment Frodo had risen from his seat at the Council of Elrond and claimed that he would be the one to take the Ring to Mordor and destroy it, Sam knew that Frodo was the bravest hobbit he had ever had the pleasure of knowing. Despite that, every hero needs a companion. Frodo was capable, but not one member of the fellowship could truly grasp the danger that lay ahead. However, this danger doesn’t bother Sam at the moment. It doesn’t bother him when he insists that he is going with Frodo, it doesn’t bother him as he scrambles back to their makeshift camp to grab his belongings, and it most certainly doesn't bother him as Frodo gives him a small smile as he boards the boat once again. He and Frodo sit in the boat once more and paddle down the river to complete the final leg of their journey. Together.