The Ring was heavy around his neck, and the air seemed unnaturally warm against the coldness of the unhealed wound on his shoulder. He shivered involuntarily, his teeth chattering.

"Are you all right, Mr. Frodo?" Sam asked, stopping abruptly, concern in his hazel eyes.

'No!' Frodo wanted to scream. 'I'm not all right! I can't stand this anymore!'

But he only smiled at Sam and nodded. "I'm fine," he lied, wondering if Sam would believe him this time.

No such luck. Sam frowned as Frodo shivered again. "Begging your pardon, Mr. Frodo, but no, you're not fine," he disagreed, his hand on Frodo's arm. "You need to rest. Let's stop here for awhile."

Frodo started to protest, then shivered once more. "All right, Sam, you win," he agreed reluctantly.

Sam began to unload his pack while Frodo sat down against a rock, his eyes slowly closing as he leaned back.

Then it happened again, as it often did when he closed his eyes. He could see the Black Riders approaching, brandishing their swords with a depth of evil that could not be comprehended. Their leader was closest. Frodo tried to run away, tried to fight, but found himself trapped, unable to move. He slipped the Ring onto his finger, hoping to disappear from their sight. But instead, he could now see their hard, cruel faces, and they could see him. He cried out in agony as the blade pierced his shoulder.....

......and sat up abruptly in bed, sweat pouring down his face, realizing that the cry that awoke him was his own. He looked around frantically, trying to reassure himself that he was safe at home in Bag End.

A figure appeared in the doorway. It was Sam, with the same look of concern that he had worn in the dream.

Sam strode towards Frodo's bed. "Was it Weathertop again?" he asked, sitting down beside Frodo on the bed and slowly taking his hand.

Frodo nodded, trembling. "Sam.... I'm so cold," he murmured, leaning into the warmth that radiated from his friend.

Sam leaned forward and kissed Frodo's forehead. "You just lie down, Mr. Frodo," he said, gently smoothing the covers over Frodo's too-thin body. Then he carefully climbed into the bed beside Frodo. He wrapped one arm around Frodo's shoulders and with the other hand began to stroke Frodo's cheek, his touch gentle and tender. "It's all right," he whispered soothingly. "Your Sam will keep you warm."

Frod smiled a little, leaning into Sam's touch. Then he took Sam's hand and kissed the rough palm. "I feel warmer already, Sam," he said softly, snuggling against Sam's broad chest.

They lay there together until Frodo's breathing became so even Sam was sure he was asleep. He opened his eyes, only to find Frodo gazing at him with the bright blue eyes that were so full of love and understanding.

"I thought you were asleep," Sam said hastily, a bit embarrassed.

Frodo ran his hand through Sam's golden brown curls, smiling slightly. "No, I'm not asleep," he murmured. "I was just admiring how beautiful you are."

Sam blushed crimson. "Don't say that, Mr. Frodo," he replied, even more embarrassed than before. "It ain't proper."

"Not proper for me to tell you how much I love you?" Frodo asked, an amused smile on his face. "Perhaps I should show you instead."

He leaned closer and brushed his lips lightly against Sam's, then kissed him more earnestly. Sam responded in kind, his heart pounding as it always did at Frodo's touch. For a long time kiss followed kiss, tongues exploring and tasting and delighting in one another.

Even Frodo's shoulder stopped aching as he clung to Sam.

After awhile they broke the kiss and smiled at each other. "Sam, I want..." Frodo began, in a whisper.

Sam placed his finger on Frodo's lips. "Shhh," he whispered back, his eyes bright with desire. "I know what you want, Mr. Frodo, and it's yours for the taking."

And so he did.


the end