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Sam Gamgee was absolutely embarrassed.
Not only was he coming down with some stupid cold in his nose, he was being loud about it. Because how dare he make any indication that he’s not at his best? Especially in front of Frodo, who absolutely didn’t need the stress of an ill friend on top of that of the ring.
He could just power through on his own, right? That was what he told himself as he snuffled into his sleeve for what felt like the hundredth time that night. He would’ve simply gotten up and given his nose a good blow, but Frodo was curled right into his chest, and he didn’t want to risk waking him.
No, he would simply stay awake the full night to check the seemingly endless flow streaming from his nose. He knew that the moment he fell asleep, he’d start snoring loud enough to wake the entire Fellowship. He always did when he was sick. It annoyed his family to no end.
Sam sniffled yet again, wincing in shame at the gurgling that sounded as everything shifted in his sinuses. He felt Frodo stir again him, and he stilled, but the other hobbit was already awake.
”Are you quite alright, Sam?” Frodo asked groggily, lifting his head slightly to look up at his friend.
Sam feigned a smile—though it didn’t reach past his lips—and nodded wearily, grimacing as his head pounded. “I’mb fide, Mbister Frodo!” He assured, his consonants distorted heavily by congestion.
”Are you sure? You sound a bit bunged up,” Frodo pointed out, sitting up straighter as sleep fell from his eyes and mind.
“Id’s jusd allergies, Mbister, I’mb sure,” Sam mumbled. He reached up to scrub at his nose with his sleeve, his eyes watering at the tingling itchy sensation. “All the pollend id the air, I bet…”
Frodo giggled, then looked up at Sam incredulously, his eyes sparkling with amusement. Were his eyes always such a lovely shade of blue? “Sam, my dear, you’re a gardener. How could you be allergic to pollen?” He questioned fondly.
”Well, id mbust be a differedt tybe of pollend. Mby ndose is used to the flowers id the Shire, sure, but ndot out here,” Sam said stubbornly. Or, at least, tried to. The reddened nose dulled the effect a tad bit.
”If you’re sure, Sam…” Frodo said with a grin, nuzzling back into Sam’s chest.
”I… I won’d be disturbigg you, will I, with mby snuffligg ad all?” Sam asked a bit shyly.
“Not at, my dear… I’ve slept through worse than a bit of sniffles. Just wake me if you need anything, alright? I’ve some herbs in my satchel,” Frodo said softly.
“Thagk you, Mbister Frodo…” Sam mumbled, before finally letting himself drift off into a hazy slumber.
If he snored, Frodo never pointed it out.