~ 5 ~

Today Sam and I wander about, having recognized our location as being very close to where we ran into Faramir in Ithilien.

Aragorn would have followed us the whole day to be sure we were all right, but Gandalf insisted he had other things to do and that Sam and I would be perfectly fine on our own.

We wander the land in silence until we come upon the path.

“Do you remember it, Sam?” I ask, slipping my hand into his.

Sam looks around, then nods. “I remember I saw an oliphaunt that day, and I was so worried after I told Captain Faramir about our business there.”

A brief smile flits across my face at the mention of Sam’s blunder. At the time I had been just as horrified as he that he’d told Faramir. But now it seems almost humorous; Sam getting angry with himself, and me being so terrified I fainted.

“It seems such a long time ago,” I say distantly, trying to shrug off the melancholy feeling creeping up on me.

Sam tightens his grip on my hand and smiles at me encouragingly. We walk for a few minutes more in silence until suddenly we hear a quiet rumble, and Sam chuckles, turning red.

“My stomach’s tellin’ me it’s time for lunch, Mr. Frodo,” he explains, rubbing his stomach.

“We’d best head back to camp, then,” I say, smiling, and starting back up the trail, Sam right behind me.

It seems so normal now for us to walk like this: me in front and Sam behind keeping an eye on me. Suddenly I glance back at him and we laugh softly as he comes to stand beside me.

We reach camp just in time, it seems. Pippin spots us and comes bounding up to us, rather energetically for someone who bore the injuries he said he had. For a moment I am afraid he is going to collapse and break, but he doesn’t.

“Frodo, Sam! You’re just in time!” he exclaims. “We’ve got luncheon waiting for you, and I’m starved!”

We walk back to our tent with him, listening to him chatter about the quality of the food in camp. Apparently his only complaint is their lack of mushrooms.

We enter the tent and find that Aragorn, Gandalf and Merry are waiting for us. I notice that Sam and I have been given smaller rations, as at the feast last night. Aragorn explained to us that we need to allow our bodies to get used to eating more again.

“I wondered when you’d show up!” Merry says from where he is sitting, at the small table they’ve set up for us in the middle of the tent. Aragorn and Gandalf are sitting on the ground near him, and the three of us take our seats at the stools they had managed to find for us and eat.

* * *

After we have eaten, Aragorn takes Sam aside for a few moments, and Merry and Pippin lead me off to their favorite glen.

“What are they talking about?” I ask, gazing after them as they walk in the opposite direction.

“I’m not sure, but we’d best not disturb them,” Merry replies, sitting down under a tree.

I sit next to him, but I notice Pippin groaning when he sinks down to the ground.

“Are you all right, Pip-lad?” I ask, glancing over at him.

He nods, and smiles at me. “I’m still a bit sore,” he says. “I feel like a gaffer and I’m not even of age yet!” he exclaims with a laugh.

I smile. It is so like Pippin to make light of his injuries.

“What of you, Frodo?” Merry asks, gazing at me with those eyes that have always seen right through me.

I shrug. “I’m all right,” I reply, trying to make light of it, and move on.

But Merry doesn’t want to leave it there. “Come on, Frodo, we’re your cousins. I can tell there’s something not quite right still, what is it?”

I glance away, not meeting his gaze. I think for a moment how to answer him. “I don’t know what’s wrong,” I answer, feeling that what he says is true, but unsure what to do about it. “I just need time, I think,” I say, hoping he’ll leave it at that. He does, though I can tell he doesn’t accept my answer.

My stomach is beginning to feel queasy. Maybe I ate too much for lunch…

* * *

I head back to our tent a little while later, lying across the bed, hoping the uneasy feeling will leave if I rest for a while. I close my eyes, and feel myself drifting off to sleep.

I wake when I hear the tent flap open and Sam comes in.

“Mr. Frodo?” he asks, seeing me. He comes up to my side and says, “Are you all right?”

I nod, blinking. “Yes, I’m fine. I just fell asleep.” I rub my eyes, and sit up slowly. My stomach is feeling better, but I am now tired instead.

“Do you want anything, Mr. Frodo?” Sam asks, climbing up to sit on the bed by me.

I gaze at him for a moment, seriously considering his question. “Yes,” I say. “I want you to stop calling me Mr. Frodo,” I reply, a small smile playing about my face.

He looks at me, taken aback for a moment. “What?” he says. “What would I call you, then?”

“Just Frodo. Please, Sam?” I meet his unsure look and smile reassuringly.

“I can try,” he says. “But that’s what I’ve called you since I met you, and it just kind of sticks in my head, see.”

I put an arm around his shoulders and lean against him. “I know.” I smile. “But I also know I’ve always been just Frodo in your heart, and you can’t deny that.”

Sam smiles now, and hugs me. “That I can’t deny,” he says. “Frodo.”

I grin. “See, that wasn’t too hard, was it now?”

He shakes his head, and says, “All right, Frodo it is.”