Frodo opened his eyes, and for a moment was disoriented. The last thing he remembered happening was the knife in the dark at Weathertop. Now as he looked around, he realized that he was in a large, comfortable bed and surrounded by beautiful carvings and tapestries. When he realized that he was alone, Frodo became frightened. "Hello!" he called. "Sam! Sam? Sam, where are you??"
The sound of sturdy hobbit feet running down the hall outside of his room made Frodo start and pull the covers up over his breast. Then the door burst open and Sam flew in, sandy curls plastered to his forehead with the sweat of recent exertion. Frodo could see by the dark circles under his eyes and the crumbs on his tunic that Sam had only just left his room to grab a bite to eat before once again returning to his master's side. The thought of Sam's devotion caused Frodo to blush.
"Frodo! Frodo! You're alive! I mean, you're awake! Oh Frodo!" Sam cried, running to Frodo's bedside. He grabbed the older hobbit's hand and kissed it fervently, tears falling from his tired eyes.
"Yes, Sam. I'm here. How long have I been out? Where am I?"
"Three days, Mister Frodo. Three long days of Master Elrond working on your wound and the rest of us standing around hoping against all hopes that you'd pull through." Sam's chest hitched with a stifled sob, and he put his hand over his mouth. "Three long days, Frodo, and I never left your side once. Not once!" Sam hung his head, "At least not until now when I went to get a bite to eat."
"Elrond?" said Frodo, "So we have made it to Rivendell then."
"Oh yes! And there's elves everywhere, Frodo. Elves!" Sam's eyes shone with wonder at the thought of the fair folk. Frodo smiled and touched Sam's cheek, "Do you mean to say you spent the last three days by the side of an ordinary sleeping hobbit when you could have been listening to elf song? Dear Sam."
Sam blushed and looked down at his hands. "You're hardly an ordinary hobbit, Mister Frodo..." Frodo sat up in bed, and reached over to take Sam's face in his hands.
"Sam...look at me," he said, gazing into Sam's wide brown eyes. "I wasn't entirely asleep for those three days. Sometimes I came to a bit, but then faded out. What I mean to say is, dear Samwise, I heard the things you were saying to me when you thought I couldn't hear."
Sam flushed even redder, if that could be possible, and slowly raised his eyes to look into Frodo's cerulean gaze. "You heard me? You heard me talking to you?"
"Yes Sam, " said Frodo, taking Sam's hand, "I did." Sam burst into tears and turned his back to Frodo. "I ought to be going, master," he said, "I'll pack my things rightly and be back on my way to the Shire before you know it."
"Sam! Don't you dare go now!" Sam stiffened, and turned back towards Frodo.
"Yes, Mister Frodo?" Frodo turned himself around, wincing at the pain that lingered still in his shoulder, and sat on the edge of the bed.
"Come here, Sam," he said. Sam sat down obediently. "Sam, I'd like to hear you say those things again. While I'm awake and able to fully appreciate them."
Sam burned red with embarrassment, and pushed his tousled curls from his eyes. "I don't know what you mean, Mister Frodo," he said, voice trailing.
"I think I do, Sam," said Frodo tenderly, "and I'd like to hear it again."
Still blushing furiously, Sam coughed and stared at his feet. "It's just...it's just that...oh blast! Out with it Samwise! That's what my Gaffer used to say. Stop stuttering and fess up!" Sam raised his head and boldly gazed into Frodo's eyes. "I told you that you couldn't die on me, Master. I told you that because I didn't think I could go on living without you, if you see my meaning." Frodo moved closer to Sam on the bed, and took his hand. Breathing a deep, ragged breath, Sam continued his confession. "Having you so close to dying made me come to realize a few things, Mister Frodo. I...I..." Sam trailed off and blushed again.
"Yes Sam?" said Frodo softly, "You can say it. You can tell me."
Sam's wide, brown eyes stared into Frodo's clear, blue ones. He swallowed audibly, and licked his lips with a dry tongue. "I love you, Mister Frodo," he whispered, and began to cry again.
Frodo took Sam into his arms and held him as a mother would hold her child. "Sam...Sam...dearest Sam," he murmured over and over again, as if singing a lullaby. Frodo tipped Sam's head up gently, and held his face with both hands. "There's only one response I can have to that, Sam," he said. Fearing the worst, Sam closed his eyes and wept fresh tears. "Oh my dear Sam..." Frodo tenderly wiped the tears from Sam's face and kissed him softly on his still-trembling lips. "You see, Sam, I love you as well." Frodo looked thoughtful. "It seems, perhaps, that I always have."
Sam stared at Frodo in astonishment, and then leaned in and kissed his master the way he had always dreamed of: softly, tenderly, filled with nothing but unconditional love. "I love you, Frodo," he whispered again, "and you love me too." He then pulled Frodo in and hugged him fiercely. "I'm never letting you go again, Mister Frodo. Never."
Frodo nuzzled Sam's neck and absently traced the line of his jaw with one finger. "I certainly hope not, Sam," he said. "for if you did, I'm sure I'd be completely lost without you. You've been my rock, Sam." He ran his finger over Sam's lips. "My rock and now my love."
The two hobbits sat on the bed holding each other; murmurs interspersed with kisses and soft sobbing until the knock came on the door to summon Frodo to the council. Frodo stood up and wiped his eyes. "I guess it's time for me to go, Sam," he said. "I'd like...I'd like to continue this later this evening...if you don't mind."
Sam looked up, eyes glistening. "Oh no, Mis...uh...Frodo. I don't mind a bit. Not a bit." As Frodo left the room, Sam hugged himself and smiled.
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