That evening, Frodo sat before the fire in his room, curled in a chair with his arms around himself. He had been quiet and thoughtful all afternoon, had eaten little of his dinner, and had returned to his room soon after. Sam, who was sitting nearby to keep an eye on him, wondered what was going on in his mind. He knew that Frodo must be terrified--and yet to all outward appearances, he seemed remarkably calm.
For an instant, Frodo's eyes flickered to meet his, then quickly looked away again. This wasn't the first time Sam had caught those troubled blue eyes on him today.
"Are you all right, Frodo?" he asked. "Isn't there anything I can do?"
"I'm fine," Frodo answered; he sounded as if he were surprised to hear himself saying it. "I feel... fine." He lapsed into silence and turned to gaze into the fire. Sam waited patiently and, after awhile, Frodo went on, "I'm not ill, but I am very frightened, Sam. Orcs or otherwise, this must have begun in Mordor. I thought all that was finished. We were safely out of Mordor, and lucky to be alive. The Ring was destroyed, and Sauron with it. That should have been the end of it, once and for all... but it isn't over yet. They might be gone, but they aren't through with me. When I think of the possibilities, of what this child I'm carrying might be, I want to crawl into a corner and scream, or else do as Gandalf suggested and purge it from my body." He turned to Sam, eyes wide as if, knowing how abhorrent the idea was to him, Sam must realize how disturbed he must be to consider it.
"You'd do that?"
Frodo shook his head. "I've thought of it, but I can't, not until I know. All I can do is wait." He seemed ready to say something more, when there was a knock on the door.
Merry peeked in. "How're you feeling, Frodo? Any better?"
"A little better," Frodo replied with a falsely light tone. "I thought you and Pippin would be off to the pub by now." The two usually went out for a pint of ale after dinner; sometimes, Sam and Frodo went with them. "I'm sorry, but I'm not up to going out tonight."
"I didn't think you would be," Merry responded. "But Pip and I were talking, and we thought we might stay in and sit with you instead."
"If you'd care for the company," added Pippin, who had come in behind Merry.
"It's kind of you to offer, but you needn't sit here on my account," said Frodo. "I am rather tired, and I'm afraid I wouldn't be a very pleasant companion. I'll probably be off to bed soon. Go on and have your fun, and don't worry about me."
His cousins nodded sympathetically, and departed.
"Aren't you going to tell them?" Sam wondered after the pair had gone.
"Not yet," said Frodo. "They'll have questions, and I have no answers. There'll be plenty of time to explain things to them later, when I understand it myself."
"D'you want me to go too, if you're going to bed?"
"No, Sam. Stay, please." He glanced at his friend shyly. "It's been a horrible day, and I don't think I could bear to be alone tonight. You will stay, won't you?"
"Yes, of course," Sam answered, puzzled by this shyness. Did Frodo think he would refuse?
Apparently, the answer to that question was Yes, for Frodo sounded sincerely grateful as he said, "Thank you," and then confessed, "I was afraid you might be angry with me."
"Angry? Whatever for?"
"For telling Gandalf that the child was yours. I wasn't lying intentionally, Sam. I didn't mean to accuse you of something you didn't do."
"Have you been worrying yourself about that all this time?" Sam asked in surprise. Was this the reason for those quick, troubled glances? Had Frodo been feeling guilty all day, and was only now working himself up to an apology? "I know you didn't mean anything by it, Frodo. You only told Gandalf what you thought was true."
Frodo looked relieved. "Yes, that's so. I honestly thought you must be responsible. I didn't see how it could be anyone else. You'll say I'm ridiculously innocent, but I thought that what we'd done..." Color came into his pale cheeks. "I thought that was enough."
They rarely spoke of the nights they had spent in Ithilien on their way toward Mordor. They'd been afraid for the future then too, for they were heading into great danger, perhaps facing death. During those nights, they'd lain close together, clinging to each other tightly. Perhaps it was only natural that their feelings would take on a certain intensity. It had come to no more than a few kisses shared and some tender words whispered, but Frodo seemed embarrassed about it since the end of the quest and Sam, not wishing to push himself where he wasn't wanted, had tactfully not reminded him.
Frodo seemed reluctant to talk about it even now, for he dropped his gaze as he said, "I'm so glad you understand, Sam. I have been worried. I didn't know how much I could ask of you, and I need your help right now. I can't go through this alone."
"You'd never have to fear for that," Sam assured him. "D'you think I'd leave you by yourself at a time like this?" After all these months of care and devotion, Frodo's well-being had become more than a duty to him; it was the center of his life. That would not change now, not when Frodo so desperately needed his support. "I said I'd look after you and the baby, and that's just what I mean to do. Even if it's not my baby, it's the decent thing."
Frodo listened to this, and smiled. "Are you proposing to me, Sam?"
"Well... yes." Sam was beginning to feel somewhat shy himself. "That is, if you'll have me. I don't know as it'd be allowed for us to marry in the proper Shire way, but I'd consider us just the same as if we were."
"It's gallant of you to offer."
"It's more'n that. You know how I feel." Then, lest Frodo misunderstand his motives, he added, "But I wouldn't get above myself with it. I wouldn't ask anything of you. I'll do just as you like, Frodo. Whatever'll help. I'll be a husband to you, if that's what you want. I'll be a father to this baby as if it were my own, no matter what it turns out to be."
"You really are the dearest, most wonderful creature!" Frodo said in amazement. He was still smiling, but tears sparkled in his eyes as he regarded his friend. When he spoke again, he was solemn. "Yes, I think I'd like that. I never imagined I would need a husband, but since it seems that I do, I'd be honored to call you mine." He rose and tentatively crossed the space between his chair and Sam's. "And, Sam, you can ask anything of me. That's what I want, too."
He stood over Sam's chair, unsure of what to do next, until Sam took one of his hands and placed a light kiss on the palm. Frodo leaned down to kiss him and, since there wasn't enough room on the chair for him to squeeze in beside Sam, he sat on Sam's knee. Sam's arms went around his waist, and they clung to each other as they had on those nights in Ithilien.
"I didn't think I had the right to ask you," Frodo said against Sam's shoulder. "We haven't been as close as we were. You haven't slept with me in weeks, not since we came to Minas Tirith, and I've missed having you nearby. But you'll be with me tonight..." He lifted his head and sat back to look into Sam's eyes as he asked, "and you'll show me?"
"Show you?"
"How babies are made."
"But you've already got one on the way!" Sam blurted out the first thing that came into his head; the moment he'd spoken, he could have bitten his tongue off in mortification, if Frodo hadn't laughed.
"I'm very much aware of that, Sam! But if I'm going to be in this condition, I think I ought to do something to warrant it. You said you knew, and if there's more to bedding together than what we've done already, then I'd like to know too. Besides, I'd prefer to be carrying your child than... something else." A shudder rippled through him, and he snuggled close again. "Perhaps if we do this, then it will seem as if it is. And, if we're going to consider ourselves married hereafter, then we should have a proper wedding night."
He kissed Sam again, and they went on kissing. Sam was amazed by how this evening had turned out. Like Frodo, he'd thought that this part of their closeness had ended weeks ago. How could he have foreseen this morning that he'd be asking for Frodo's hand, and that Frodo would accept him? But then it had been a most unusual day. He slipped his arm under Frodo's knees and, as gently as he could, picked him up and carried him to the bed.
"It won't harm the baby, will it?" asked Frodo between kisses as Sam set him down.
Sam didn't know. "We'll be careful," he promised. "Careful as we can be."
Frodo dreamt that night of the tower at Cirith Ungol. He lay shivering on the cold wooden floor, unable to move. The red light from the single lantern suspended from a beam overhead pierced the ever-present Mordor gloom and cast deep and ominous shadows in the corners of the chamber. Several orcs were gathered beneath the circle of red light in the center of the room, pawing through his belongings and examining each article from his pack before tossing it into a pile on the floor. One enormous orc turned and came toward him.
There was a flash of metal as a blade was drawn--a long knife with a wicked-looking spike jutting from the tip. The orc used this spike to catch the front of Frodo's shirt and sliced it open from waist to collar with one swift jerk, then grabbed the shredded rags to tear them away from his body. He struggled to get away, but the orc pinned him easily. With a meaningful leer, the creature ran one clawed hand down his bare chest until it reached the waistband of his trousers, then cut them open too. In an instant, Frodo lay naked, screaming, and helpless. The other orcs crowded around to watch their captain at his sport...
He woke with a gasp. It was the middle of the night; the fire had died down to a few glowing embers on the grate, and Sam lay sleeping beside him.
He had had dreams like this before, mixing his most terrifying memories with his worst fears, but never one so vivid. It hadn't happened quite that way when he'd actually been captive: He had not been awake when the orcs had cut away his clothing. Nor had he been raped--because of what he and Sam had done tonight, he knew that certainly now. No orc had ever done that with him. They would never have taken him with the gentleness that Sam had, but would have torn into him brutally and left him bleeding and in no doubt about what had been done to him even if he'd been unconscious at the time.
What had they done to him?
He moved closer to Sam, seeking comfort against the warmth of his lover's body, but it was a long while before he slept again.
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