Chapter Thirteen: The Thirteenth

The longing did not leave Frodo and the gardener and Ring-bearer both grieved at that, but it had not changed their relationship. If anything, Sam was even more concerned and protective and over the next couple months, he always knew when his brother needed some release from the pain. Without speaking, he would make sure Frodo was bundled up enough, then take him by the hand out into an isolated part of Hobbiton and hold him as Frodo screamed, then bury his sobs in his brother’s chest. Sam would cry himself during those times, though he hoped they went unheard. He would sing softly and then when the elder hobbit was calm again enough, they’d return home. Neither of them said anything to Rose, though she saw enough in the pain and sorrow in both their eyes to know that even now, so long after their return, there was still so much torment for her friend.

Sam came into the parlor late one night to find Frodo staring into space, the book he was writing open in front of him, but he wasn’t writing. “Time to get to bed, dear,” Sam said quietly.

Frodo didn’t look up. “I’m going to stay here a while longer, Sam,” he said. “I don’t think I’ll sleep tonight anyway. Tomorrow’s the....”

“Thirteenth,” Sam finished for him. “Precisely the reason you do need sleep. If you have another spell, you are going to need your strength to get through it. I’ve seen you too many times recently staying up so late, you fall asleep right here and what do you think you are doing, reading that so late!”

Frodo smiled slightly. “You never said I couldn’t read after lunch, dearest heart, just that I couldn’t write.”

Sam pursed his lips. If his brother wanted to be stubborn, he should have remembered that his Sam could be just as stubborn if not more so. “Well, I’m not going to stand for that tonight. Now are you going to come with me peaceably or am I going to have to carry you out?”

Frodo was amused and touched by Sam’s firm tone. Here was the mildest, gentlest, most loving of hobbits, standing with feet firmly planted, arms crossed and face set in an expression that wasn’t going to brook any argument. Frodo knew better than to try any harder so merely smiled. “I think to preserve my dignity I’ll go with you peaceably,” he said.

“Good.”

Sam took his brother gently by the arm. Frodo allowed himself to be led to his bedroom, the soft smile still on his face. Sam spoiled him terribly and he was determined to enjoy it.

“Now, you get yourself ready for bed,” the gardener said, “and I’ll go get your tea. No doubling back into the parlor either while I’m gone neither. I want to see you in bed by the time I’m back.”

Frodo’s smile widened as he looked at his beloved guardian. “Yes, Sam.”

When Sam returned, he was pleasantly surprised to see that Frodo had obediently gotten into his nightshirt and was sitting up in bed, piled under many covers. He accepted the mug Sam handed him with thanks as the younger hobbit moved the nightstand closer to the bed so Frodo could put the cup down whenever he wished. When Sam was younger, before the Ring had so changed his brother, he remembered that there always used to be several books stacked on that stand, adventures stories that Bilbo had told or given, stories that Frodo himself had written as a child and tween, when his head was full of the grand stories his uncle told and Frodo and Sam dreamed of adventures of their own. Sam was one of the very few Frodo had ever shared the stories he wrote. The younger hobbit had even helped write some of them and a few of the drawings he had made were in there as well. Sam sometimes wondered what happened to those stories. He hadn’t seen his brother reading anything since his return and that hurt him deeply that another thing so essential, so definitive of Frodo, was missing.

Frodo took the steaming mug from his friend’s hands and wrapped his cold hands around it. It was still almost too hot to sip, but he wished he could drink it all down right away to counter the cold that was always with him.

Sam took a seat next to the bed. “Just wait for it to cool a little and then you’ll have a better night once you’ve drunk it. I can stay with you if you’d like.”

Yes, Frodo thought, stay forever, don’t ever leave. Sam looked nearly as cheerful and filled with light as he always had and for that Frodo was very glad. The Quest had left little mark on him, but for the worry for Frodo that never really left his eyes, but was overwhelmed by the love and compassion that streamed from there. Frodo dearly wished he could have recovered so easily, but his journey had been so different than Sam’s. He could already sense the demons of the thirteenth lurking in the shadows. They wouldn’t approach while Sam was near, but they would pounce the moment he left and when they did, not even Sam would be able to beat them back until they disappeared the next night. He didn’t want to think of that now so instead looked at his friend tenderly. “Do you have any idea how much I love you, Sam?” he wondered.

The gardener smiled at his brother. “I have a pretty good idea. I’ve seen it every day in one way or another since I was a child. It’s not something you can keep inside you, you know, but I love you more.”

“How do you know that? I love you a great deal, Sam. It started when I met you.”

"But mine has been growing since even before I met you. Mr. Bilbo was always talking about you. I don’t think I ever knew him to be so excited the day he told me that you’d be coming to stay with him. I already knew I loved you and that was confirmed the moment I saw you, arriving at your new home with that terrible cold on your birthday. I felt so bad for you.”

Frodo smiled at the memory, then take an experimental sip of tea, feeling the warmth goes all away, even into the coldest parts of his soul when the pain and longing for the Ring still lingered, or maybe it was the warmth of the memories that reached there

“You helped me so much even then, Sam,” he said. “You have always watched out for me. I can never thank you enough for that.” Sam opened his mouth to protest, but Frodo held up his finger. “I know how much you don’t like being thanked, but you have to understand how much I need to do it anyway.”

Sam sighed, but accepted it. “My mum was always so pleased with how polite and courteous you were. ‘A perfect little gentlehobbit,’ she called you whenever you came to call, either to drop something off or return something she had lent or to ask if I could come for a walk with you. I’d come running out to you before her ‘yes’ was half-out her mouth and you and she would laugh and you’d hug me and take my hand and we’d be gone the whole day, you matching your steps and pace to mine, not at all minding being with someone so young when there were others of your own age. I dare say my mother was glad that she didn’t have to look after me for a spell.”

Frodo smiled as he took another sip of tea. “She was always very kind to me.”

Sam stared at that smile and thought if happier memories caused it, he would think up all he could. “Remember all the stories you’d read me from Mr. Bilbo’s books or poems you had made up yourself? Or when you’d sit back against your favorite tree with that lovely smile of yours on your face, eyes closed, listening to me read to you? Or after you had taught me how to write, I read you my own poems?”

Frodo smiled wider and then drank more of his tea. “I remember all that and much more. Which is why I think I love you more, at least I did, before you began to spoil me even more on the Quest and now.”

Sam let out an exasperated sigh. “I’m not going to argue with you about it, me dear. I love you more and that’s that. You’re just going to have to accept it. Now say, ‘Yes, Sam.’”

Frodo tried very hard to look appropriately cowed, but he couldn’t help smiling widely. “Yes, Sam.”

Frodo smiled even more at Sam’s victorious grin. He put down his finished tea, leaned over to kiss Sam’s cheek, then put his arms around his waist and laid his head against his friend’s chest where he could hear his brother’s heartbeat. “You are so good to me, Sam,” he said quietly. “Thank you for taking such care of me.”

Sam kissed his head in return and held him close, rocking him gently as he continued to search through his memories. “Do you know I never shared those poems I wrote with anyone else?”

“Then I am very privileged. And I am sorry the rest of the world never heard them. They were very good. I’ve kept them all. Perhaps your children would like to read them one day.”

Sam blushed. “I don’t know how good they were. Yours were always so much better.”

“I wish for those days again, Sam,” he said thoughtfully.

“They were grand fun, weren’t they? When we weren’t reading, we’d race each other all over the Shire and you would always let me win.”

Frodo raised his head and an eyebrow. “Let you win? My dear Sam, I discovered much to my chagrin that the older I got, the slower I got and the older you got, the faster you got. Maybe in the beginning, I let you win, but you won a lot of those races fair and square, even when I was running full out.”

Sam grinned. His heart danced to see his beloved brother in such spirits. It was so rare these days. If remembering times gone by helps him, I’m going to talk myself hoarse every night. “The best part though was the birthday parties and the way you’d slip me an extra piece under the table and put your fingers up to your mouth like it was supposed to be a big secret.”

Frodo laughed and Sam’s heart soared. “But it never was,” the elder hobbit said, “because we could never keep from giggling and giving it all away. Oh, Sam, thank you so much for these memories. I loved all those times with you. It’s strange that you could be lonely in such a big place as Brandy Hall, but I was much of the time. I never was though, with just one person. Being with just Bilbo or just you or my cousins has always been my favorite part of my life instead of just being one of many, barely noticed in a Hall big enough to be a small town, instead of a home. Bag End was always much more my size where I could be more spoiled and looked after.” Frodo paused. “Terribly selfish of me, I suppose.”

Sam looked at his brother, not sure if Frodo was teasing him or not, then Frodo smiled and it reached his eyes and Sam knew there was nothing more beautiful to see than that. He had always thought so. He stared at it fascinated, wanting to capture it in his arms and his heart and never let it go.

“I think I will sleep much better tonight,” Frodo pronounced. “You don’t have to stay, Sam, really. I promise I’ll behave myself.”

Sam looked at his beloved brother and his corners of his mouth twitched in a quirky little smile. “Begging your pardon, dear, but I don’t trust you. I think I’ll stay until I know you are really asleep. There’s nothing for it. You are just going to have to put with me. And don’t try faking to be asleep just so I leave. I’ve watched you often enough to know when you are truly sleeping.”

Frodo smiled again and laid his head back on Sam’s chest.. The tea and companionship warmed him and for the first time that day, he didn’t feel so cold. He truly was terribly spoiled by his Sam and he continued in his resolution to savor every last moment of it.

“Well, good night then, Sam,” he said and closed his eyes. Sam continued to rock him and soon after listening to a cherished heartbeat and softly sung lullaby Frodo fell asleep.

Sam laid his brother down in the bed, brought the covers up to his chin, then he leaned down to kiss Frodo’s brow. “Good night, dear. Sleep well. I love you.” He stayed a while longer, just watching, then sought out his own bed, hoping against hope that the thirteenth would dawn and it would be like any other day, that at least that part of the aftermath of the Quest would be conquered. But he left the door open to Frodo’s room and his own and knew he would only doze lightly that night, just in case, he was needed.

* * *

Darkness deepened around Frodo, drawing him in, choking him. He had entered the spider’s lair fearfully but trustingly. He had forgiven the betrayal that followed, but the terror he had felt while there consumed him once more. He thrashed in his sleep, tangling himself in his covers, moaning as he sought to escape the gargantuan spider that followed so closely behind him. The sticky threads of the web wrapped around his hands and legs and mouth. He was bound. He could barely move and still it came. He would not escape this time. He thrashed all the more, tangling himself ever more. He saw the spider, but he couldn’t move. It dropped down in front of him and impaled him with its stinger. He gasped in pain as he felt the poison spreading through him once more, then he couldn’t even do that, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t scream. But he could hear. He hear Sam come to him, hear him cry out his challenge to the beast and then his terrible fears that Frodo was dead. He wanted nothing more than to reassure his friend, but he could not and that hurt more than anything to hear Sam’s sobs and not be able to comfort him.

In his delirium, he woke in the dark tower, conscious but almost too weak to move. The orcs surrounded him again, their ungentle hands stripping him and binding his hands and feet so he couldn’t defend himself from their blows that rained down on his head, face, chest, back, everywhere. He could only cry out, tears streaming down his cheeks, burning him as they fell into cuts the orcs carved into him from sheer malice. They were looking for the Ring, Frodo knew, and part of him desperately wanted to give it to them just so they would stop beating him.

But most of him knew it was already gone and he cried from that failure to keep it safe.

Sam entered the room, hearing his brother’s cries. Frodo’s hands were raised over his head, held wrist to wrist as though they were bound, trying to block the blows that rained down on him in his mind. He was curled around himself, trying to present the smallest target possible. Tears streamed down Sam’s cheeks as he watched. It hurt him so to see his beloved friend still so tortured by the torment of the past. He didn’t even want to imagine what his brother had had to endure before he had come to rescue him. But it hurt even more that Frodo was probably not even aware that he was there, that he wasn’t alone as he had been then. Sam didn’t move, though, he knew from sad experience Frodo couldn’t be approached yet while he was still thrashing around. Three blankets had dropped to the floor, leaving the stricken hobbit tangled in just a sheet. Sam picked up the blankets and put them back on the end of the bed. He moved the nightstand away so Frodo couldn’t hurt himself if he hit it. As he watched Frodo threw his head back and Sam sucked in a breath, afraid that his brother would hit his head against the headboard, but Frodo fell against pillows. The gardener let out a loud sigh and approached the bed. He didn’t know whether his brother could hear him, but he started talking, hoping it would help.

“I’m here, me dear,” he said quietly, trying to keep his voice as calm as possible. “I want nothing more than to hold you to let you know that, but I have wait until you calm. Remember what happened last time when I did it too soon and you thought I was an Orc and you struggled so bad, you hit your head and gave me such a terrible fright when I couldn’t wake you right away. I’m not going to risk that again. But as soon as I can hold you, I will and I’m not going to let you go.”

Frodo heard the orcs talk to him but he could not understand them and they beat him even worse because he didn’t respond. They forced his mouth open and with filthy fingers groped around. Frodo gagged and would have spit had he any saliva left.

“Wat...” he croaked.

Sam left for a moment, then returned with a cup of water. When he raised it to Frodo’s lips, the dazed hobbit saw only the orc who had stood over him in the tower and laughed as he poured a much fouler liquid in. As soon as it had passed his lips, Frodo tried to close his mouth and turn his head away, but his jaw was held firmly open and his head in place by another laughing orc. He coughed and gagged, trying not to let any of the terrible liquid go down his throat. Some of it did though, burning as it went. He retched and the remains of Rosie’s delicious dinner came up, soiling his nightshirt and blankets.

Sam jumped back slightly. “Now, what did you do that for, dear?” he chided gently. “I thought you wanted a drink.”

He reached for the chamber pot under the bed and held it close in case anything more came up. A little bile did and Sam held the pot under his brother’s chin and caught it, then wiped at the edges of Frodo’s mouth and chin to clear off the last. The tormented Ring-bearer lay back in a tight curled ball, shivering. Sam put aside the pot and stripped the soiled bedding, for the moment putting it on the floor to be cleaned later. He set out clean sheets and blankets at the base of the bed, then got out another nightshirt and approached his brother again.

Frodo remained in a ball, his arms tight against his chest, his fists curled his shirt, his eyes open and staring into what horrors, Sam did not even want to contemplate. Blinking away tears, he reached for his beloved friend’s arms to pull them away so he could change his soiled night wear. Frodo resisted, his eyes widening in horror. He tried to twist away, holding his arms even tighter against himself. “No!” he cried out.

Sam held back for a moment. “I know what you’re thinking I’m trying to do,” he said with a hitch in his voice. “And I can’t stand that I am causing you more pain, but you need to be clean, dear. You can’t go laying around in your own waste. That’s not going to help you.”

He tried again. Frodo continued to stubbornly resist. Sam at first gently, then more forcefully pulled his brother’s arms away so he could remove the shirt. When it was finally done and tears were in both their eyes, Sam added it to the pile of bedding to clean. Frodo looked at him in unseeing horror, then reverted back into the defensive ball, shivering even harder.

Sam brought the clean shirt and anticipated the same battle. “I’m so sorry, dear,” he said with tears in his voice. “Just one more thing. I need to get you into this new shirt. You don’t want to catch a chill. Maybe you will recognize it’s me and not some orc. What one of them would do this?”

It was nearly enough to break Sam’s heart how much Frodo struggled, so caught in his delirium, that he did not understand what his friend was trying to do. He resisted even stronger as Sam once again had to pry his brother’s arms away from his chest and put them through the sleeves of the shirt. Frodo seemed quite confused at that, but settled down when it was through.

“There now, my dear,” Sam said softly, bringing up the clean bedding to Frodo’s throat, to try to still the tremors that shook his brother. “You look - and smell - much better.” He reached up to stroke Frodo’s forehead. The elder hobbit flinched at the touch and Sam winced. He continued to stroke though and Frodo eventually calmed. “I’m so sorry that you have to go through this. It’s not fair, but I’m here. I’m here. Just let it pass. You know it will.” He began to sing as he continued to stroke.

“Softly are the shadows creeping,

All around us night is deep.

But lie you still now, hush your weeping,

Sleep, my loved one, sleep.

“Night has fallen, day is dying,

The sun has set in the west.

Close your eyes and cease your crying,

Rest, my loved one, rest.

“Slumber now until the morning,

Sleep and may your dreams be blest.

I'll be here till day is dawning.

Rest, my loved one, rest.

“All the long night I'll be near ye,

Ever wakeful, watch to keep.

Rest and have no fear, my dearling,

Sleep, my loved one, sleep.”

Frodo didn’t hear him. He was thrown aside by the orcs and cried out when his head struck a wall. It hurt a moment, then consciousness fled and he could only be grateful. He passed the rest of the night in and out of dark dreams, pummeled awake every hour for apparently no reason but that the orcs didn’t find what they were looking for and were none too happy about it. During those brutal sessions and the pain that surrounded him, Frodo clung to what sanity he had left, trying to keep one part of his mind safe and secure, that no one but he could reach, that he could escape to, but it was so hard.

The dawn came outside Frodo’s window but inside he writhed in the darkness of his mind. Rose stood at the threshold of his bedroom and Sam looked at her tear-streaked face. Wordlessly, she picked up the soiled bedding and clothing and Sam smiled, kissed her quickly on the check in gratitude, wiped at her tears, then turned his face back to Frodo’s, his own tears falling.

“Sam,” Frodo whimpered, laying still as the orcs left him again.

“I’m here, dear, I’m here,” came a very distant voice, a dream-voice, no more. But he held onto it, tried to follow it.

Arms encircled him then and he wanted to fight, but he had no strength left. Slowly he became aware of another heart beating besides his own pounding one. A gentle, steady beat that had always soothed him in the past. And he smelled the soft, fresh earth of the Shire instead of the filth and decay of the orcs.

“It’s going to be all right, me Frodo, it’s going to be all right,” Sam murmured over and over again, trying to break through, trying to believe it himself. He never knew what had happened to his brother that terrible day they were separated, but he would never forget the look in Frodo’s eyes and would have given his life to have his friend spared from it, not just once, but twice, and now each year as if it were happening all over again.

“Sam?” Frodo croaked. He opened his eyes, but had trouble focusing. “You’ve come...”

“Yes, my dear, I’m here. Your Sam is here.”

Frodo sighed in relief and closed his eyes. Sam stroked his brow and prayed that his beloved brother would find sleep and this spell would pass sooner than the year before, but suddenly Frodo stiffened and opened his eyes again. The wild, terrified look had returned and he began to tremble again. “They’re coming back, Sam. I’m so afraid. Please, Sam, don’t let them hurt me again.”

Sam tightened his hold on his beloved brother and kissed his head. “Shhhh, dear, shhhh. Don’t be afraid. I’m right here. I’m not going to leave you. Just lay still and let your Sam take care of you.”

But Frodo remained lost in his foul dream. At times he would cry out and try to shield himself from the blows that were all too real in his mind. “Sam! They’re hurting me! You said you’d help me. Where are you?!”

Sam held onto his brother tighter as Frodo grew increasingly frantic. “I’m right here, dear,” he said softly. “I’m holding you. Can’t you feel me?”

Frodo opened his eyes, but Sam knew they didn’t see anything but the horror of those hours in the tower. “No, Sam, no I can’t! An orc is holding me down. I can’t see you. Where are you?!”

“It’s no orc holding you. It’s me. It’s your Sam.”

“No!” Frodo cried and began to thrash in his panic. “Let me go! Let me go!”

Afraid that his brother would hurt himself in his thrashings, Sam reluctantly let go, his heart breaking a little more when he realized that Frodo had no idea he was there anymore. Frodo calmed some then until he ducked his head to avoid another blow and his whole body spasmed as the imagined, but all too real, attack came down on him. He had to hold on until Sam came, he told himself. Sam would rescue him. But then he remembered. He had sent Sam away. His friend would not be coming. Despair finally crashed down on Frodo and he began to cry again.

“Sam...” he whimpered and his whole body shook with the force of his sobs.

The twin to those tears coursed down Sam’s cheeks as well as he watched his brother. Rose came with a small meal and Sam looked at her. She cried with him and held him for a bit, then left, knowing she could do nothing more than him. She left the meal on the dresser, but knew it would probably not be touched.

Sam looked back at his brother and wondered how he could reach him again, then so slowly, tremulously at first due to his voice being choked by tears, he began to sing the same song he had sung the two times he had searched for Frodo in the tower. Slowly, the Ring-bearer calmed and softly, so softly at first, Sam wasn’t even sure he was actually hearing it, he heard his brother respond to him, his voice also raised in the same song. And that caused Sam to cry even more and attempt to embrace his beloved friend once more. Frodo did not fight him this time. He opened his eyes.

“Sam?” he breathed in wonder and relief. “You’ve finally come.”

More tears pricked at Sam’s eyes but he smiled bravely. “Yes, my dear, I’ve finally come.”

“Don’t leave me,” Frodo begged. “I don’t want to ever be alone again.”

Sam stroked his cheek. “You won’t ever be. I’ll always be with you.”

When the orcs came back again, Sam did not let go, but held and rocked his brother and sang to him, his voice lifting above the grunts of the orcs in Frodo’s mind.

“All the land in darkness deep now lies,

Moon and Sun are hidden from your eyes,

But though all round about us shadows loom,

The world is still fair beyond the gloom.

“In distant lands where still the day is fair,

The rivers run, the flowers die not there.

The sun yet shines to keep away the night,

And in the evening sky, the stars are bright.

“It may be long ere this dark night is past,

It may be long ere morning comes at last;

It may be long ere the shadows fade away,

But always after darkness comes the day.

“O rest ye now, be not afraid.

The night will end and shadows fade.

I will be with you while you sleep,

Till morning comes my watch to keep.

“Do not let go of hope, for hope remains.

The sun shines ever clearer after the rain,

And so when these dark clouds are gone away,

You’ll rise to greet a glorious fair new day.”

Sam kissed his brother’s head and rocked him gently as Frodo moaned and wept in his foul dream.

“Lie you still, safe in my arms, my dear.

Close your weary eyes and do not fear.

Rest your weary head and do not weep.

I am here to guard you while you sleep.

“Slumber now in peace, O brother mine,

Dream of lands where the sun forever shines.

Rest in quiet now, close to my heart.

And while I live I’ll never from you part.

“O hush ye now, my dear, be not afraid.

Till moon shall wax and sun and stars shall fade,

Until this earth is lost beneath the sea,

I will be with you and you with me.”

Frodo struggled to concentrate all his will on listening to that pure, soft voice when it seemed the orcs would overwhelm him again. He concentrated all the harder, holding tighter to his brother when those beasts tried to pry them apart. Sometimes it was nearly impossible to hear and to hold on and those times he feared so much that his Sam had left him again. But that beloved voice, though at times very faint, was always there and Frodo strained to follow it and to believe what it said.

“Sleep now, my dear one, held safe in my arms;

While I am by you, you need fear no harm.

Sleep, my beloved, until break of day,

And all through the night by your side I will stay.

“Fear not the shadows that round us now close.

Hush now and rest, for ’tis time for repose.

Sleep now, my dear one, till dawning of day,

When shadows and darkness will be gone away.

“Sleep now, my treasure, my bright shining star.

My love shall be with you, wherever you are;

And if we are parted, then know this, my dear,

In thought and in spirit, to you I’ll ever be near.”

Sam kept singing even after he thought he could no more.  He wanted to give his brother something else to focus on if he could other than the terrors that assailed him.

“Sleep now,

And fear not the darkness.

There's nothing can harm you,

Let go all your fear.

"Sleep now,

Rest safe till the morning,

And when you awaken, I'll be here.

“Sleep now,

And know I'll be with you

To hold and protect you

Whatever befall.

Sleep now,

For I'll e'er be nigh you

To hear you and answer when you call.

“Sleep now,

May no shadow touch you.

O close now your eyes, dear,

Lay down all your care.

Sleep now,

And know I'll be by you,

Your every joy and woe to share.

“Sleep now,

For I will not leave you.

All through the long night

Beside you I'll stay.

Sleep now,

And know that I'll love you,

Keep and defend you all my days.

“Sleep now,

My joy, my beloved,

And know that I'll never

From you depart.

"Sleep now,

And know that whatever

This life may hold, you'll be in my heart.”

When Frodo opened his eyes again hours later, they were clearer. Horrors that Sam did not even want to guess at receded back into the black depths they had come from. “Sam?”

“Welcome back, my dear,” Sam smiled through his tears.

“Is it over?”

“Yes. You’re back in your own bed.”

Frodo sagged against his brother. “I’m so tired.”

“Then sleep now. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Have you been here the whole time?”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t know, not all the time. I’m so sorry. It must have been horrible for you, but I heard you sing all those wonderful songs.  Thank you.  They were the only things that kept me from going completely mad. How many more times is this going to happen, Sam?”

“I don’t know, dear.”

“But you’ll be with me?”

Sam held his brother tighter and kissed his head. “I will always be with you.”

Frodo relaxed. “I know you will be, even if...even if...” He didn’t finish and Sam feared for what he didn’t say. He looked into his beloved guardian’s eyes. “It’ll be all right, Sam, no matter what happens. It’ll be all right.” He closed his eyes then and slept peacefully until the next morning, safe in his brother’s arms.

A/N: A bumper crop of loving lullabies by the queen! :)