~ 2 ~

“Can you believe we got out of there, Mr. Frodo?” Sam exclaims looking at me in wonder after Gandalf leaves.

I slouch back down into the covers, reveling in their warmth and say, “I almost didn’t at first.” I smile briefly. “I thought I’d died.”

Sam frowns. “Well, you haven’t, and neither have I.”

“And I’m so very glad,” I say with a big smile. Sam looks back at me with a funny grin and I give him a questioning look. “What? Do I have something on my face?”

“No,” he says. “I’m just so happy to see you smile again. I didn’t think I’d ever see that again.”

We lay there a moment, smiling at each other, then Sam stirs and says, “We’d best get dressed if the King is waitin’ for us, Mr. Frodo.”

I glance over at our pile of clothing and shudder, seeing the orc things among them. “Do I have to, Sam?” I say. “I want to stay here.” I know it won’t work, but it’s worth a try.

“He’s your King, and he’s going to want to thank you, so you’d best get out of bed,” Sam replies, pulling the covers off and climbing out of the Man sized bed.

I shiver as a cool breeze touches my bare legs, and I pull them up to my chest to cover them in the oversized nightshirt I am wearing.

He comes over to my side of the bed and says, “Now, are you coming, or do I have to carry you down?” He grins at me, and I return the look with a rueful smile.

“You’ve already carried me far enough,” I reply, stretching my legs. “I’ll get down myself.” I look down at the long drop to the floor. “I think,” I add hastily, wondering if Aragorn can get someone to bring us a ladder for future use.

Sam smiles as I clumsily slide down and catches me as I almost topple over on unsteady legs.

“Seems I’ll need more help than I thought,” I reply as a pain shoots up my spine from the impact of my landing.

Sam is instantly concerned. “Don’t over do it, Mr. Frodo. You’ve just recovered from a terrible ordeal.”

My head shoots up at the word “recovered.” My heart leaps at the thought. My troubles are over and I am my own once more.

“Now, you’d best change quickly, Mr. Frodo, the King is waiting for us.” Sam says, handing me the same clothes he handed me back in that horrible tower. I shudder, but accept the clothing, standing staring at them for a moment.

“I know you don’t want to wear those again, Mr. Frodo, but there’s naught else to wear until Mr. Gandalf gets us some proper clothes.”

I nod, changing quickly, standing tense for a moment, the rough orc fabric rubbing against my newly healed skin.

I glance over at Sam, pulling his shirt over his head, and say quietly, “Am I really back? Or is this going to turn into just another nightmare?”

Sam is at my side in an instant. “It’s real,” he insists as I collapse in his arms. “You aren’t dreaming. I’m real, and you’re real, and you can feel me holding you up right now.” As if to emphasize his point, his arms tighten protectively around me and he meets my eyes, seeing the fear and torment I am sure show clearly there.

“You remember in the tower I told you something I said no one else would know but you an’ me?” he says still meeting my eyes.

I nod and he continues.

“I said I wouldn’t never leave you, and I’d pray every day that we was allowed to survive Mordor,” he says.

I smile a little, leaning into him for support.

“Well, I’m not leavin’, and my prayers were answered,” he responds. He kisses the top of my head, and says, “Now get the rest of those things on. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can get new clothes.”

“What would your gaffer say if he could see you now, Sam, telling your master what to do?’ I ponder aloud, smiling ruefully at him.

He smiles and blushes. “I reckon he’d be a mite upset,” he says quietly.

“He just wouldn’t understand,” I murmur. “No one back home will understand…”

“You don’t mind, do you?” he asks, not hearing my last statement as I pull the leather jerkin on.

I glance at him then say, “No. Don’t stop. I need it to keep me going,” I assure him, though I can tell he doesn’t understand my full meaning. I grasp his hand in mine, and smile at him as someone knocks on one of the posts of the tent, near the entry.

I drop Sam’s hand, and say, “Come in!”

“Are you ready?” Gandalf asks, entering the tent with a smile.

I nod. “Yes, I suppose we are,” I say, looking down at my clothing, then over at Sam. We both look as though we’d been trampled by a herd of horses, or some such beast.

“Don’t look so uncomfortable, my lad,” Gandalf says. “I’ll get you new clothing soon enough.”

I can’t help but smile back at his teasing look.

“Come,” he says, holding his hand out to me. “Let me lead you to the King.”

Sam looks at me, eyes wide with wonder. I grin.

“It isn’t everyday a hobbit gets to meet a King, is it?” I say to him.

“No, sir, it isn’t!” he replies.

I take Gandalf’s still outstretched hand and we follow him out of the tent.