I recently watched The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring and The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, and found the slash between Sam and Frodo nearly tangible. And so, this little ficlet was born.

Takes place sometime in The Two Towers, but I'm not sure when. This is only Movieverse because I have not read the books.

Warnings: slash. Don't like it, don't read it.

Pairings: onesided SamFrodo. If you squint and turn your head to the left, you will see that Frodo loves him back.

I tried to keep it true to their interactions in the films, but I did not dare try and force out their Old English-like style of dialogue. If I have misspelled or misinterpreted anything from Tolkein's amazing world, please, dear God, please tell me.

Even though I was drop-dead tired, I could not sleep. We've been walking, moving, hiking for so long. My legs are weak, hurting with a raw ache. My back is becoming curved with strain. My hair, usually a rusty red, is matted and colored light from dust and rock. I was filthy, coated in a thin layer of grime. What I wouldn't give for a warm bath.

We were lying in a bed of dirt and rock, our cloaks providing the only comfort. Large, moss covered boulders blocked us from view on all sides. They also blocked something from our view.

Mordor.

Even from the great distance between us and it, I could hear the shrill cries of the orcs, the bellows of the uruk-hai, and the roars of horrors we have not yet seen. From behind the boulders, I could not see the great black gates, but I could feel them there. I could feel the gaze of the Eye roving over the mountain side, not seeing us but still suspicious.

Frodo was asleep at my side. The creature, Gollum, was lying a little farther off, muttering every once in a while, but he, too, was asleep. I envied them both. How can they so easily slip into slumber when death lies in wait before us?

I gazed down at Frodo. He had a pained look on his face and his hands were clutched tightly at his chest. My heart rose to my throat. He was having another nightmare. I didn't want to know what this one was about.

Frodo gasped and started shaking violently. I quickly slid over beside him. I unclenched his small hands, finding the Ring inside them. Hatred blossomed in my chest. I ripped it out of his hands and stared at it. I was glaring at it, this small, ugly reminder of the horrors that awaited us. It called to me. Anger made my stomach tight. How dare it try to take me. How dare it take Frodo. My heart panged at that.

I quickly slipped it into Frodo's shirt, desperate to hide it from view. I looked at Frodo again. His shaking had become a quiet shudder. I scooted myself next to him, wrapped his arms around his thin torso and pulled him into me. He unconsciously buried his face in my chest.

A ghost of a smile played on my lips as I held him and stroked his hair gently. He curled closer.

"It's going to be all right in the end, Mister Frodo," I whispered into his ear. "We're going to be okay. After this nasty business is over and done, we can go back to the Elves. Merry and Pippin will come, too. We're see ol' Bilbo again, Frodo. I'm sure you'll be glad to see him. Then we can return to the Shire. Oh, won't everyone be happy to see us?" Tears slid down my cheeks. My voice was quiet, strained. Frodo wasn't shaking anymore. In fact, he wasn't even asleep.

He slowly pulled away from me and sat up. His dark curls framed his face beautifully, his blue eyes glowing with concern and affection. Even coated in grime, he was lovely. His skin shone bright underneath the filth, shining like a young elf maiden's. It gave me hope.

"Sam?" he said softly, voice thick with sleep.

"Yes, Mister Frodo?" I couldn't meet his eyes.

"Sam, what's wrong?"

"It's nothing, sir. I'm just feeling…" What was I feeling? Lost? Hopeless?

His eyes softened in understanding. "Sam, we're going to get through this. Soon, you'll be back at the Shire, dancing with your dear Rosie once more." He smiled.

My heart ached. If only he knew… my father had once described love to me. Gazing at my mother, he described to me what it felt like. How it would feel perfect and painful at the same time. His description did it no justice. Now, as Frodo looked at me with his innocent blue eyes, my heart broke and felt whole. Longing was a lump in my throat, need an ache in my chest.

My distress must have shown on my face because his smile faded. "Sam, we're okay. Smeagol will lead us into Mordor safely."

I looked at the ground so he wouldn't see my eyes flash with anger. Such faith in others. This journey will surely rid him of that.

I suddenly felt an uncontrollable need to protect him. To save his innocence, his blind trust. A fresh tear rolled down my cheek. I heard a shuffling and looked up. I was startled to see his face so close to mine.

"Sam?"

"How can you trust everyone so easily, Mister Frodo?"

"I trust you, Sam." His voice was warm. I smiled, but it was small. He returned the smile and wrapped his arms around my neck. I moved my arms to hold his back, clutching him to me.

"And you should. I won't leave you, Mister Frodo." I buried my face into his shoulder.

"I know, Sam." He rubbed my back and pulled away, smiling at me. It wasn't a cheerful smile, but it was lovely.

He turned and settled down next to me. He laid his head on my shoulder. I rested my chin on his head and crossed my arms, resisting the powerful urge to nuzzle into the soft curls. The rising sun was peeking over the boulders in front of us, painting them a misty pink.

In the distance, and orc screamed.

Reviews keep me alive.3