Frodo was brought to Rivendell more dead than alive, for the wound he'd taken at Weathertop had done more than cut into his flesh; the tip of the Black Rider's blade was working its way toward his very heart and taking him into their dark world. He was already fading, and would have been completely lost in a matter of days if the Elves had not found Strider and the hobbits in the wilderness.
Sam, left behind with the others while Frodo was swiftly carried away to safety, was in agonies of worry until he was with his master again--but his first sight of Frodo lying so pale and still under the healer's hands did nothing to quiet his fears. Lord Elrond had done all he could, but Frodo was not out of danger yet.
Since he'd been taken to Frodo, Sam had barely moved from his master's bedside. He would have slept across the bed at Frodo's feet if Gandalf had not sent him away at intervals to rest.
Gandalf was sleeping now, seated in a chair near the windows. He had not sent Sam away tonight, and so Sam remained where he was, sitting by Frodo's side. This was his proper place, and all he really wanted--to be near Frodo, and to hold his hand.
Frodo's hand was still frighteningly cold. Sam gently squeezed the fingers between his palms, as if he could transfer some of his own warmth and life into them.
"Oh, Mr. Frodo, me dear..."
No response. Frodo didn't murmur, nor moan, at the softly spoken words. The long, black eyelashes didn't even flutter upon the pale cheeks.
How happy he'd been, just a few weeks ago, to be allowed to come on this adventure with Frodo. They would travel together, and see all the wonderful places he'd heard tales about. He would see the Elves! He had no idea then what sort of danger they were heading into, not even when the Black Riders had first shown up. Not until it was too late and Frodo had been struck down. And now Sam was terribly afraid that he was going to lose Frodo forever.
Frodo, gone! The thought of it tore at Sam's heart. What would he do if Frodo should die? How could he go on living without the master he adored- No. Sam refused to imagine it.
He lifted Frodo's hand up to cradle against his tear-dampened face and pressed his lips to the wrist. He could barely feel the pulse-beat. "Please, Frodo, don't go," he whispered. "You can't. Not yet."
There were so many things that he'd like to tell Frodo, if only he could find the right words. If only he dared. He couldn't say them aloud when his master might hear.... but now? He might not get another chance.
"You can't die and leave me. What'd I do without you? I couldn't go on. It'd be too hard. I need you too much, Frodo. Don't you see that? We've only just started. There's so much left undone."
Tenderly, he reached out with his free hand to brush the dark curls from Frodo's brow--then, daring only because the moment was so dire, he leaned down to kiss one pale cheek that felt as cold as Frodo's hand had been.
"Sam Gamgee."
Sam jumped, startled at hearing his name. Whatever else he had been about to say was forgotten. It wasn't Gandalf's voice that spoke, and he hadn't been aware of anyone else in the room. Who-?
He whirled to find a small, shadowed figure in the darkness by the door behind him. The figure came nearer, stepping into the halo of candlelight: he was wrinkled and white-haired, looking much older than he'd been when Sam had seen him last, but Sam recognized him right away.
"Mr. Bilbo! I didn't know you were here!"
"Oh, yes..." Bilbo said as he advanced slowly toward the bed. "I came here after I left the Shire. I meant to go farther, you know, travel back to the places where I'd had my adventures all those years ago, but somehow I found Rivendell too comfortable to leave. The 'Last Homely House west of the mountains,' they call it, and I didn't feel up to crossing the mountains. So here I've stayed. I was hoping I'd see Frodo here one day, but not like this, poor lad." Once he reached the bedside, he stood looking down at the sleeping form. "How is he, Sam?"
"Mr. Gandalf and that Lord Elrond say they got the knife's point out of his wound. It was creeping nearer his heart-" Fresh tears began to flow down Sam's face. "Once it touched there, it'd be the end of him! They got it out, but they don't know for certain if he'll pull through."
Bilbo sat down beside him and patted his arm comfortingly. "You mustn't worry. He's in the best hands, Sam. If anyone can bring Frodo out of this, it's Elrond. He's a master healer. And Gandalf will watch over him." The elderly hobbit cast a fond glance at the snoring wizard. "He won't let anything happen to Frodo if he has a part to play in it. Neither, I suspect, will you. I know how much Frodo means to you."
"Do you?" Sam realized that Mr. Bilbo must have heard his whispered words--and, more than that, must have seen him kiss Frodo. His first guilty impulse was to let go of Frodo's hand, but Mr. Bilbo was smiling at him with such kindness that Sam was reassured. He did not let go.
"He means a great deal to me too," Bilbo told him. "I love Frodo dearly, as the son I might have had." He gazed down at Frodo's sleeping face, and shook his head sadly. "I blame myself for what's happened to him. This is all my fault."
"Oh, Mr. Bilbo, no-"
"It is, Sam. I brought this trouble upon him. He needn't have carried the Ring at all. I might have brought it safely to Rivendell ages ago! I haven't done as well by him as I meant to, and now I have to rely on others to keep him safe from the dangers I got him into. You'll have to do a better job of it than I have." The elderly hobbit turned his eyes to Sam. "I can count on you, can't I?"
"Yes, of course!" Sam answered earnestly. "I'll do whatever I can, only- well- there doesn't seem much I can do for him right now. It's beyond me. Out of my hands, you might say."
"I'd say it's right in your hands," Bilbo replied, and patted the hand that covered Frodo's. "What you've been doing seems the best thing to me. Stay by him. Look after him. Hang on to him for as long as you can. Don't let go, whatever happens, and maybe it'll turn out right in the end."
Sam nodded, taking this as a solemn charge. While he didn't understand just what Mr. Bilbo meant by insisting so urgently that he stay by Frodo--maybe he expected Frodo to be ill for a long time after this--Sam was warmly gratified that he would ask it. If staying close to Frodo was what was needed, then he would do it. He'd do it even if nobody asked. Still, it was nice to have Mr. Bilbo's blessing. He couldn't feel ashamed at having been caught out, for the old hobbit seemed to understand how much he loved Frodo--and maybe knew he'd take special care of Frodo because of it?
"You're a good lad, Sam." And, with one last pat, Bilbo rose to leave.
"You're going?"
"Yes. It's very late, but I had to see Frodo before I could rest. I'll sleep better knowing he has the best of care. I believe he will get well. In fact, I feel quite certain of it." As he headed toward the door, Bilbo added, "This isn't the end for Frodo. There's so much left to be done, just as you said, Sam. His part in this tale isn't finished."
Sam gaped at him. Had he misunderstood what Mr. Bilbo was saying? "But I wasn't meaning this adventure of his!" he blurted out. "I- I meant-" He blushed suddenly, and stopped.
The old hobbit turned back to him and smiled sympathetically. "I know what you meant, Sam."
And he left Sam sitting at Frodo's bedside, still holding his hand.
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