Chapter Text
There was silence. Sam sat crouched in his hiding spot, listening to make certain the orcs had left. He had watched them clumsily carry Frodos limp body away.
Alive? He was alive you fool Sam
He muttered to himself once stepping in to the clearing.
I need to get him back. Sam's mind raced. And before he knew it his large cold numb feet were racing too, along with his heart.
I'm coming Mr. Frodo, just you wait for me. Your Sam will be there soon.
He whispered to himself as he stealthily followed the orcs. It was an easy enough task, orcs are loud creatures. Sam could follow from afar, and track them by the filth and carnage they left in their wake.
It was a two day hike to where they would imprison Frodo and Sam watched them, each night, make camp and talk about how they wanted to eat Mr. Frodo. His anger soared as he watched the brutes chuck him to the floor, leaving him with no blanket or fire to keep warm while he slept. And oh, I can't tell you how Sam's heart ached when Frodo finally stirred from the spiders poison.
Sam!
That was his first word when he woke up
Sam, where are you?
He blinked trying to steady his vision. Orcs! He tried to stand and run but his hands and legs were tied.
Oh lookey here, the hobbits awake!
A foul smelling orc cackled, moving closer to Frodo. A trio surrounded him and he desperately wished for a more pleasant looking face to wake up to. He wished particularly for Sam's. Little did he know, the young hobbit was observing from a short distance.
Tears fell from Sam's cheeks watching the orcs push Frodo around between them, starting their own horrid game. He wanted to run to him and hold him, wipe the mud from his face and yell at the orcs, to tell Frodo it would all be okay. But alas, there were far too many, he would be outnumbered eighteen to one.
The creatures game grew more aggressive and some more joined in, stripping the hobbit down to his skin, kicking him to see the bruises appear fresh. His clothes tossed this way and that, trodden on, and squished down into thick muddy puddles. The night grew cold and the orcs grew tired of their game.
Get some sleep, don't let the frost bite, bite!
A large orc spat in a sing songy voice.
Will reach our base tomorrow
Another one had grunted.
It was a stormy night when the orcs finally arrived with Frodo at the prison. Sam noticed a single tear rolling down his friends face as he was carried inside, held under his arms, legs shaking from the cold. What do I do, what do I do?
Sam paid careful attention to the guards, mentally mapping out their watch patterns. They changed over every 2 hours or so. That meant Sam had a small gap where he could sneak in during the switch, he would have to be quick.
He snuck through the guards entrance, his large worn feet not making any noise as he pads through a long corridor, ignoring the cries of other prisoners being tortured. Praying he wouldn't hear Frodo's. Sam reached the last door and crossed his fingers, wishing this could be the one Frodo is behind He walks through and his wish is granted.
Frodo laid naked, curled in a ball, on the dusty stone floor.
Mr. Frodo!
Sam!
Frodo croaked. He tilts his head up slightly, to get a look, the action looks painful. And Sam quickly squats down to help him sit up.
Oh Frodo what have they done to you?
He asks, his voice full of sadness at the sight of the bedraggled hobbit. His wrists were red sore with rope burns, they dug deep to his pale skin.
Let me cut those loose-
Frodo interrupts him softly,
I just want to say-
But before he can they hear crashing footsteps walking the corridor to Frodo's cell. A chill runs through the room, a wind making Sam's long hair, brush over his forehead. And a cold sweat runs down Frodo's sly body.
We need to get out of here.
Sam says. Frodo pulls his thin arms up and over Sam's head, supporting all his weight on the boy to try and stand up with him, he was unsteady and Sam caught him when his legs folded. A hand on his back and the other under his legs. He cries in frustration.
It's okay, I'll carry you Mr. Frodo. You can't walk with your legs bound anyway
Frodo rests his tired head on Sam's shoulder, nuzzeling into the familiar sweet earthy smell on his soft clothes.
I have missed you
He says. His sobs muffled by Sam's clothing and the creaking of the door being opened. An ugly creature runs at the them and Sam brandishes his sword, slicing at the air, before landing a heavy blow to the monsters torso. The creature screeches. And flies backwards and with a loud cracking noise, smacks against the stone walls, then slopes down it, crumpled and lifeless. Smeared blood dripping down the stone wall.
Take that you filthy creature!
Sam grumbles under his breath. Breathing heavy. He lowers his sword and squeezes Frodo closer to him with his free hand.
Let's leave
Frodo says sounding quite exhausted. But deep down, maybe not that far from the surface. He knew he felt more. What was that feeling? Pride, maybe...
Or was it attraction? Attraction yes. He felt an odd sense of attraction towards Sam's protectiveness over him. He blushes despite knowing his thoughts are private and Sam had no way of telling he was turned on.
He hides his cheeks in his friends shoulder anyway. Scared he will see. And Sam turns and starts the uncomfortable climb to get both him and Frodo out the small window of the cell.
Once out in the cold air of the night Frodo shivers and begins shaking uncontrollably. Teeth chattering, he tries desperately to get closer to Sam's warmth.
We need to get you in some clothes before you freeze to death
Just carry me away Sam
He screamed. He was afraid. Sam didn't say any more, he just carried Frodo in silence.
Before long the hobbit grew tired, he stopped and gently laid Frodo down on some dry deep green moss. He had carried him far enough now, they were safe and the tower was out of sight. It was secluded, Sam chose this spot especially due to it being sheltered from the wind and there being a river.
You're safe now Mr. Frodo, will you please let me take these bonds off you now?
Sam begged. He had asked several times while walking but Frodo had insisted they continue walking, he had said,
I never want you to end up there Sam Wise Gamgee.
And he had stopped asking after that, remembering the dreadful screams he had heard while freeing Frodo.
Yes Sam.
Frodo responded and Sam pulled a pocket knife from his side, and knelt closer, placing a hot hand on Frodo's knee while he cut through the rope tying his feet together. He sighed a breath of relief twisting his feet in a circular motion and sat up, holding his cuffed hands out to Sam. Who held them with his left hand, carefully using the knife in his right to slowly cut through the rope, not wishing to scrape Frodo in doing so.
You're always so gentle
Frodo spoke, rubbing his sore wrists.
Only with you
Sam whispered, tucking a strand of his dirty blond hair behind his ear. The other stared at him and Sam felt hot under his gaze,
Mr Frodo you really should put something on
I think you can just call me Frodo now my dear, there's no need for formalities.
Okay
Well, Frodo, please put some clothes on
He says shyly, chancing one more look over his unclothed body, he then makes the mistake of looking at Frodo's face. His bright blue eyes are watching him intensely. Sam blushes a deep shade of red, 'he must have seen me check him out' Sam thought.
Sam are you blushing?
Frodo questions, a smile at the corner of his lips. Sam's blush spreads to his ears, he looks away down to the river. Then Frodo takes his hand and places it on Sam's hot cheek, turning his face and making him look at him. They smile at each other. Then they laugh. They laugh so loudly at the absurdity of it all.