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Sam never left Frodo’s side.
It had only been a few days since they arrived at Rivendell, and throughout those days Frodo remained unconscious. Sam feared that he would never awaken, and the elves didn’t help quell these fears, only stating their own uncertainty.
He could see the bandages where Frodo’s shirt slipped off his shoulder. The wound seemed to be healing well enough, but it would leave a terrible scar. Sam could only sit there, holding Frodo’s freezing hand. It pained him to be there, knowing that there was nothing he would be able to do until Frodo hopefully awoke
Merry and Pippin had tried to pull him away from Frodo’s bedside a couple of times, but almost never succeeding. Sam only left to eat, and even then he rushed through each meal to return to his post. He feared that Frodo would wake up without a familiar face nearby. And after everything he’d been through he deserved to see someone he knew upon awaking.
On the fourth night of this routine, Sam grasped Frodo’s hand between both of his. If only the simple act was enough to warm his master's hand, but there was no change. He was half tempted to fetch more blankets from the room he had been assigned. Sam was still debating himself when a soft knock broke the silence.
Sam didn’t look up to see who it was, assuming it was a healer coming to check in on Frodo. Therefore he was surprised to see Bilbo Baggins pull up a chair on the other side of the bed. A book was clutched in his hand and he was blinking sleep from his eyes. As soon as he registered Bilbo he straightened up, dropping Frodo’s hand in the process.
“I wasn’t expectin’ you Mister Bilbo sir,” Sam let out hurriedly, “Is there anything you need?”
Bilbo waved a hand, “Relax my dear boy, I just wanted to sit here with my nephew,”
Sam let out a sigh, but didn’t take Frodo’s hand again. He certainly didn’t want to step out of line in front of Bilbo. Instead he rested his elbows on the side of the bed to hold his head up. Bilbo had opened up his book and was reading by light of the fire. It must’ve been past midnight already, as Sam was having trouble staying awake. But he refused to sleep until he knew Frodo was going to be okay.
Eventually, once the fire had died down and lengthened the shadows, Bilbo set aside his reading.
“When was the last time you slept Sam?”
Sam jumped slightly, not expecting the question, “I got a couple o’ hours last night, sir,”
Bilbo’s face filled with worry, “You know you’re allowed to sleep,”
“I just don’t feel right sleepin’ while he’s not well,” Sam rubbed his neck nervously, “He just should have someone he knows with him when he wakes,”
“Just make sure to take care of yourself as well lad,” Bilbo shook his head and returned to his book.
Sam had to admit he was exhausted. A short nap wouldn’t hurt anything he thought, yawning. Afterall, Frodo would be fine while he got a bit of rest. There was certainly no point in trying to take care of Frodo if he couldn’t keep his own eyes open. He leaned back in his seat, and the last thing he saw before he closed his eyes was Frodo, still unconscious against his pillow.
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Frodo screamed in what must’ve been agonizing pain.
It tore through the air and Sam was powerless to do anything. It felt as though he was rooted to the spot, unable to do anything to help poor Frodo. His master writhed in pain, but when Sam tried to step towards him, he found that he couldn’t. Filled with panic he yelled out for Frodo, trying to move to him still.
“Frodo!”
Sam felt tears stream down his face involuntarily, forced to watch his masters suffering while he was powerless to stop it. If only he could take his place, because Sam knew he would do so in a heartbeat.
Suddenly he felt a pressure on his shoulder. Sam turned his head, gasped as he came face to face with the hooded figure who stabbed Frodo.
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Sam awoke with a start, sweat beading up on his forehead. He’d had the same dream the past couple of nights whenever he’d tried to rest. Hopefully the terrors wouldn’t last too long.
Bilbo was still seated on the other side of the bed, finishing up the book that he’d brought with him. A few hours had probably passed since Sam had fallen asleep, as he could see the start of daylight peeking through the window. Shifting his gaze to the bed, Sam almost yelled out in surprise.
Frodo was no longer there.
He jumped up, immediately distressed, “Mister Bilbo sir! Where’s he at?”
Glancing up from his book, Bilbo said, “He woke a couple of hours ago. Wondered off not long after,”
“Did he seem alright?” Sam wasn’t hiding his worry very well.
“A little weary, but quickly on the mend,”
Sam didn’t wait for him to say anything else before he ran from the room. It wasn’t very likely that Frodo went far, most likely just wanting to look around.
Luckily it wasn’t long before he found him. Frodo was on a balcony just down the corridor, watching the sun as it began to rise. His shirt hung off his shoulder still, and his hair was a mess. Sam felt his breath catch in his throat. It was only then that Sam realised that there really had been a chance that Frodo wasn’t going to wake. He had been trying not to stress over it, but now Sam couldn’t feel anything but immense relief at the fact that everything was going to be okay.
“Mister Frodo!”
Frodo turned around, eyes widened, but as soon as he saw who it was his face split into a grin.
“Oh Sam,”
Before he even registered he was moving, Sam stood in front of Frodo, “You’re okay,”
“I’m okay,” Frodo’s eyes glistened, and Sam quickly pulled him into a soft hug, remembering to watch his wound.
He felt Frodo wrap his arms around Sam carefully. His shoulder was probably still bothering him quite a bit.
For a little while they just stood there, wrapped in their embrace. Sam rested his head atop Frodo’s, inhaling the scent of his tangled curls. A voice in his head told him he was being too familiar, but he pushed it aside to focus on Frodo. Frodo who felt so small and fragile in his arms, weakened by the injury and the ring.
He didn’t want the moment to end.
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Frodo hadn’t been surprised that Sam had come looking for him. Sam had been asleep when he’d awakened and, despite his eagerness to see the other, Frodo didn’t want to disturb the rest he surely needed. After all it was Frodo’s fault he was so worried in the first place. If only he’d been more careful and not fallen as easily to the power of the ring.
“You’re okay,” Sam said, voice low in the early morning hours.
Frodo felt his eyes well up, “I’m okay,”
Sam must have noticed because he wasted no time pulling him into a warm hug. It surprised Frodo slightly since Sam usually tried not to be too affectionate with him. Even though Frodo had made it clear that he saw Sam as an equal and he shouldn’t worry about upsetting him. Therefore he wasted no time putting his arms around Sam, hoping to quell any worries he had.
If only Frodo could quiet his own worries. He was scared that Sam would one day discover how much Frodo craved the affection from him. Sam didn’t love him in the same way, and Frodo had accepted that a long time ago. Rosie Cotton had always had eyes for Sam, and there was no way that Frodo was going to keep him from her. Besides it being unheard of for two hobbit lads to court, he was certain Sam wouldn’t return his affections, and Frodo didn’t want him to feel obligated to do anything.
They stayed like that, swaying in each other's arms as the sun rose. At one point Frodo felt Sam rest his head atop his own. It felt nice, especially when Sam pressed a kiss into the curly knots.
Eventually they both pulled back enough to look at each other properly. Sam’s brown eyes bore into Frodo, and he could see the exhaustion that was behind them.
“I’m so sorry Sam,” Frodo felt a couple tears escape against his will.
“You have nothin’ to be sorry for sir,”
Frodo’s tears began to fall faster, but Sam wiped them away just as quickly. He leaned back into Sam, pressing his face into the other's neck. The natural warmth that radiated from him was a comfort that Frodo felt guilty. If Sam knew how Frodo felt he would certainly never treat him that way.
Sam had started to rub his back, murmuring in his ear, telling him over and over again that nothing was his fault. That he needn’t apologize for things that he had no control over. Frodo tried to listen to the things that Sam was telling him, but the only thing that soothed him was Sam’s voice.
It wasn’t long before his tears eased, and he lessened the grip he had on Sam’s tunic. He didn’t pull back immediately, and kept his head against Sam’s shoulder, allowing himself to treasure the moment.
“What would I do without you Sam,”
Sam answered by tilting Frodo’s head so their eyes could meet. They were close enough that Frodo could see the freckles that were scattered across Sam’s tanned skin. Without thinking, Frodo shifted his gaze down towards Sam’s lips. When he brought his eyes back up, his face heated when he realised Sam had been watching him. Sam gave the slightest of nods, answering Frodo’s unasked question.
When their lips touched Frodo’s mind went blank. Suddenly he couldn’t remember a time before the kiss, wondering why they hadn’t been doing it all along. Sam’s lips were soft and gentle, and moving against his own as if they were meant to be there. Sam kissed Frodo as if he was someone who was worth the affection.
Frodo had one hand at the nape of Sam’s neck, pulling him as close as possible, while the other one was buried in his sandy blond curls. Sam’s hands were on Frodo’s waist, his hands warm through the fabric of his shirt.
The kiss came to an end too soon for Frodo’s liking. But the soft smile on Sam’s face almost made it worth it. Frodo rested his forehead against Sam’s, holding on to him as if he’d disappear if he let go.
“I love you Sam,” Frodo muttered softly, before blushing and averting his eyes away from Sam’s, “I’m sorry. I’m being far too forward aren’t I? I didn’t mean to make things awkward–”
Sam cut off his rambling with a swift, but gentle kiss.
“I love you too Mister Frodo,” he said, hands still cupping Frodo’s face.
They stood there in an embrace long enough for the sun to have fully risen. After a while, Sam let out a yawn, and Frodo suddenly remembered that Sam probably needed to sleep after the last few days.
“You should really get some rest Sam,”
Sam nodded, “I’ll be sure to sleep later,”
“Nonsense Sam. You’re clearly exhausted,” Frodo gripped Sam's hand, “I’ll be okay,”
But Sam didn’t look convinced. It was obvious that Sam wasn’t leaving his side anytime soon. With anyone else he would have wanted space. With Sam he only found it endearing.
“Would you sleep if I was there?”
“That might help sir,” Sam’s face heated, “But I don’t want to trouble you Mister Frodo,”
“Oh Sam, you are never a bother,” Frodo said, rubbing his thumb across Sam’s hand, “And you don’t need to call me sir,”
Wordlessly, while keeping their hands intertwined, Frodo began to guide Sam back to this room.
Bilbo was still there, but he was now fast asleep, his head resting on his chest whilst he snored lightly. Ignoring his uncle, Frodo crawled into bed, pulling Sam with him.
It was a bit awkward at first, but once they were both under the sheets, Sam wasted no time pulling Frodo to his chest. Frodo in turn wrapped his arms around Sam, and tucked his head into the crook of his neck.
It wasn’t long before they had both fallen into a quiet, peaceful slumber.