'When the storm rises up, when the shadows descend
Ev'ry beat of my heart, ev'ry day without end
I will stand like a rock, I will bend till I break
Till there's no more to give, if that's what it takes
I will risk everything, I will fight, I will bleed
I will lay down my life, if that's what you need.'
-- If That's What It Takes, Celine Dion

The pale grey light of another Mordor dawn had just begun to spread its thin, cold fingers over the rocky ground; in the meagre, colourless haze Sam's face appeared dark as leather speckled with coal dust against the snow-white skin of Frodo's. As the dull glow swept its icy tendrils over the hobbits where they lay, Sam with a protective arm thrown over his master, the gardener's eyelids flickered once or twice and then his eyes opened, warm and brown as always but now bearing a story of pain and weariness that had not existed six months previously.

The air was, as ever, chill and acrid, constricting as a cold sweat, oppressive in such a manner that it was on occasion quite terrifyingly difficult to draw breath. Sam sighed and struggled up on one elbow, gazing down at Frodo's still countenance, delicately beautiful as a spring flower, untroubled in sleep. For perhaps five minutes he lay thus, scanning the features he knew so well and yet whose perfection continued to amaze him, until close behind a too-familiar voice hissed cautiously, "Is hobbitses awake?"

Despite himself Sam started and turned his head sharply although he knew perfectly well that it was the creature Gollum who had spoken. He looked very pale and thin standing there, his skeletal figure framed against the whiteness of the early morning; for a fleeting moment Sam almost pitied him.

"Ssh, Gollum," he whispered. "Master's still asleep."

Gollum hissed through his teeth pensively. "Hobbits musst be leaving soon, yess," he opined.

"Leave him be a while longer," Sam insisted, once more allowing his gaze to linger tenderly on the face of the hobbit who was dearer to him than anyone else in all Middle Earth. Frodo's ivory-white face might have been that of a carven effigy, so still and perfect was it then.

"He's beautiful, ain't he?" Sam murmured, half to himself.

"Yess, yess, nice master very beautiful," Gollum retorted somewhat impatiently. "But he won't be beautiful if nassty orcses catches him here, oh no. Master must go."

Sam sighed heavily. "I can hardly bear to wake him; he's that tired," he muttered, stroking his free hand gently over the smooth curve of Frodo's cheek.

"Smeagol will wake master," Gollum offered brightly, but Sam only laughed caustically.

"Oh, no, Smeagol won't do aught of the sort. Smeagol can just sit there and be good, for once. I'll wake him." Gently he stroked the dark curls back from Frodo's forehead and as his master's eyelids twitched he bent closer and pressed a kiss, feather-light, high on his brow.

"Come, wake up Mr Frodo," he called softly, feigning cheerfulness. "It's quite a lovely day, as always," he added with a wry grin.

Frodo smiled wanly and looked up into Sam's face, and Sam was amazed all over again by the azure brightness of his eyes, bluer than the warmest summer sky, their loveliness undiminished by the dark, tired circles beneath.

"Yes, it's a beautiful morning," Frodo agreed, smiling wistfully, glancing around at the barren landscape now wreathed in a grey half-light. "Is this all the light we shall get?"

"I'm afraid so, Mr Frodo," Sam said apologetically, "But we can't help that."

"No, indeed, you have helped quite enough already," Frodo muttered, wriggling into a sitting position. "If it weren't for you I should have lain down to die long ago."

"Oh, don't say that, sir," Sam protested plaintively. "Don't put such pictures into your Sam's head; I don't like to think of it."

"There are many things we do not much like to think of, Sam, but I find myself increasingly thinking of them all as we are walking," Frodo said distractedly.

"Master must leave," Gollum hissed inopportunely, and both hobbits glanced at him in surprise; Sam had quite forgotten he was there.

"Smeagol, slink off until we need you, won't you?" Sam ordered.

"As nice hobbitses wish," Gollum crooned, turning away with a flash of his bulbous eyes.

Sam turned back to Frodo and took his hand. "You ought to think of nice things, Mr Frodo," he suggested. "Think of the Shire. Think of the Brandywine River and the garden at Bag End."

"I try, Sam, but I cannot see them," Frodo said seriously, catching Sam's eyes with his own and holding them. "All I can see is you. You have been my eyes and ears, and now you are my memory too."

"In that case, I shall make you remember," Sam asserted. "Can't you see the river, Mr Frodo? It's blue in summer, and in winter it's green, and the little lads and lasses play tag along the bank all the year round. When I was a little lad you used to take me skating down there when it froze over. And the garden, now, well, that has all sorts of different plants in it; all different colours an' shapes, can't you see? Daffydowndillys in spring and nasturtiums, and don't you remember the Party Tree, Master?"

With a rueful smile Frodo shook his head. "Memories are so precious, they are the first thing the darkness consumes, Sam. The first thing Sauron took. Oh, I remember what we did back home; I remember the events that took place; I know that you woke me every morning and what colour the flowers were under the study window, but the images are gone. He took them, Sam. You are all I have."

Sam's brown eyes were swimming with unshed tears; he could not comprehend the mentality of any being who would wish to take and destroy and corrupt everything that was pure and beautiful in the world' who would wish to hurt his Mr Frodo. "An' you'll always have me," he said hoarsely, "Always your Sam. I know it ain't a lot of consolation, but there it is. I'll give you everything I have to give, sir, you know that."

"Sam, you have given me all you can and more already," Frodo replied unsteadily, "And I will not take more than what is right. I do not wish to inflict any pain or suffering upon you, dear Sam, least of all this, although I know that without you I should have given up." His expression was wistful and yet somehow still showed traces of the determination that had aided him in battling the great evil of Sauron to this extent. "Don't leave me Sam," he murmured desperately, half to himself; his honest blue eyes, clouded with a sorrowful wisdom he ought never to have acquired, sought Sam's face as if seeking a last hope.

"Oh, Frodo..." The name without the customary prefix tasted strange and yet as sweet as honey in Sam's parched mouth like some new exotic delicacy. "Frodo, you ought to know I won't never leave you. Not if Sauron himself was to come here right now and try to prise us apart with a spanner."

Sam looked so fierce that Frodo would have laughed, had he possessed the strength to do so. Instead he bowed his head until his chin was resting on his thin chest and allowed the tears to come, precious water, now hot and salty, trickling down the smooth lines of his face and coursing into his mouth. His lips were trembling violently, compressed in an attempt to stem a convulsive sob welling up within him. Sam pulled him close then and held him tightly against his own chest as if he were the most precious entity in the whole of Middle Earth, as indeed to Sam he was. Frodo did not respond at first but merely let his arms hang listlessly while Sam held him as one would a crying child.

Sam allowed him to cry unhindered, and Frodo in turn made no attempt to halt the steady flow of tears, merely permitting them to soak into the dirt-encrusted fabric of Sam's homespun shirt, the stitches once so lovingly sewn now broken in many places. It was almost comforting to watch the curious manner in which the tears all penetrated the loose weave at the same point and yet each spread slowly in its own independent direction, combining and growing until a large translucent patch stained the front of Sam's off-white shirt. Frodo blinked once or twice, his blue eyes now red and bloodshot, and then quite impulsively, summoning the last of his strength, he flung his arms tightly around Sam and clasped him to himself as if he meant never again to let go.

Sam sat in silence, his own tears tracing silent patterns through the film of dirt on his face, crying as if he could wash away the impenetrable darkness that had wrapped itself around all the beautiful thoughts and memories that had once resided in Frodo's mind.

Shutting his eyes in a last attempt to visualise life as it had been in the old days, the sun before the shadow had fallen across it, he concluded miserably that his own memories, too, were being slowly corroded by a foul, incessant blackness. Blindly he pressed his cheek to Frodo's; finding soft skin he endeavoured to kiss it clumsily over and over, along the jaw right up to the brow as if he were trying to press what remained of the light in his own heart into his master.

Frodo's thin frame juddered and shook as a deep sob emerged, and then he was inhaling deeply, carefully, attempting to steady himself. His face was pressed to Sam's shoulder and his breath was creating a patch of warmth there as he breathed in the reassuring scent of Sam, of pipeweed and sweat and soil. Tentatively he raised his head, and Sam thought to himself that even while his eyes were red and his face streaked with dirt he was more beautiful than Arwen, more lovely than the lady Galadriel. Sam smiled blearily. "Are you ready to go?"

Frodo nodded, drew a hand over his eyes and rose to his feet with a groan. "I'll go and find Gollum."

Sam watched the slim figure depart, allowing his own tears to dry on his cheeks in the barely sensible breeze. Sauron was bearing down on his master always, he knew, but Sam would not let him lead Frodo to death. He knew that Frodo's heart was too pure to be wholly corrupted even by a might as great and terrible as Sauron's. His love for him rose now above all other emotions, above his anger at the armies of Mordor, above his anxieties over what would become of them; he knew only that he would never ever leave him; that he would go through ash and smoke and brimstone for him; walk through a pit of hellfire; duel with Sauron.

"If that's what it takes," he whispered brokenly to himself, and rose to follow his master.

You're the bravest of hearts, you're the strongest of souls
You're my light in the dark, you're the place I call home
You can say it's all right, but I know that you're
breaking up inside
I see it in your eyes
Even you face the night afraid and alone
That's why I'll be there

When the storm rises up, when the shadows descend
Ev'ry beat of my heart, ev'ry day without end
Ev'ry second I live, that's the promise I make
Baby, that's what I'll give, if that's what it takes
If that's what it takes

You can sleep in my arms, you don't have to explain
When your heart's crying out, baby, whisper my name
cause I've reached out for you when the thunder is
crashing up above
You've given me your love
When you smile like the sun that shines through the
pain
That's why I'll be there

When the storm rises up, when the shadows descend
Ev'ry beat of my heart, ev'ry day without end
I will stand like a rock, I will bend till I break
Till there's no more to give, if that's what it takes
I will risk everything, I will fight, I will bleed
I will lay down my life, if that's what you need
Ev'ry second I live, that's the promise I make
Baby, that's what I'll give, if that's what it takes
Through the wind and the rain, through the smoke and
the fire
When the fear rises up, when the wave's ever higher
I will lay down my heart, my body, my soul
I will hold on all night and never let go
Ev'ry second I live, that's the promise I make
Baby, that's what I'll give, if that's what it takes
If that's what it takes
Every day
If that's what it takes
Every day
--Celine Dion - If That's What It Takes