Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings.

Of Rest and Responsibility

Frodo looked around wearily as he lifted his head from the mounds of paperwork.  He blinked to focus.  There sat Sam, his gardener, sleeping peacefully in the corner; he had tried to help after Bilbo left, but he was more of a nuisance as much as Frodo hated to admit, breaking his concentration with, "Do you need anything, Mr. Frodo?"  He dabbed the drool off of his paperwork and began to work quickly, though it be two.  Why, oh why, had he fallen asleep? The Sackville-Bagginses would soon be intruding, annoyingly seeking answers from the new Master Baggins of Bag End, Frodo.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings.

Master

Bag End

Sam watched his new master diligently. There was something different about him. He was nice – not that Bilbo Baggins was not – but he was somehow subtly different. He observed his master working, eyebrows knitted as he poured over the never-ending work. His eyelids drooped as he turned up the light to no avail. "Here, let me git that fer ya, Mr. Baggins."

"Frodo, please. No formality is necessary, and thank you, Sam Gamgee."

Sam blinked and promptly held back a confused expression. "Yes, Fro – Mr. Frodo."

"Very well, Sam."

Oh yes, there was definitely something different about his new master. How Sam longed for old Mr. Baggins to return and break the ice!

Bree

Sam watched his master "sleep," though he knew not how he could sleep with all the unanswered questions. He had learned much of Frodo, yet this still puzzled him. Had those evil fiends have been part of what Frodo and Gandalf had talked about all those months ago? Sam rubbed his chin and cast his gaze from Frodo to the strange wanderer and to Merry and Pippin, until finally it rested on the fire. Why could they sleep, yet he could not? Was it the uncanny feeling that his master was hiding something? How much he knew not of Frodo.

Weathertop

Sam cradled his agonized master in his arms. He glared furiously at Strider. He had led them, knowing those villains were possibly pursuing them, and they had found them. He was to blame. But no, he was not. He had come in the nick of time and saved all but Mr. Frodo from injury.

Sam searched for someone else to blame, but he found naught but himself. He was to blame, not Strider, not Merry, not Pippin – he, Samwise Gamgee. He had failed his master. Sam began to cry, and he realized for the first time how much he really cared.

Rivendell

Sam walked briskly through the elves which he had longed to see for so long. But it was not them who he had on his mind. It was not them his eyes longed to see, nor their care to tend to. He had one person, purpose and thought in mind, and he meant to see it through. The elves would wait, but his master could not. He was possibly dying. He did not trust the Elvish medicine, though Gandalf assured him it was the best and Merry chided him for being worrisome. Sam entered the room, and his face lit up with joy as he saw his master awake and well.

Lothlorien

Sam looked uneasily down from the tree ledge. The elves expected them to sleep here? "Mr. Frodo, are you feelin' alright?" he whispered so as not to disturb Merry and Pippin, who he believed to be asleep.

Frodo sighed and rolled over. "No, I cannot, for I do not like these heights."

"Oh, you're awake, too?" Pippin asked. "Maybe now Frodo can answer some questions."

"No," Sam interjected. "Mr. Frodo's tired an' grievin', can't ya see?"

Pippin shrugged and lay back down.

"Thank you, Sam."

Sam said nothing, but later on he pondered how the others could sleep so peacefully.

Cirith Ungol

"His will was set, and only death could break it."

Sam followed blindly the sound of the marching orcs, feeling like a horse with blinders, only able to see a few feet ahead. Regardless, he stumbled on, fearing his master's life may be in danger. His will was set on saving his master, no beloved friend, from being horribly tortured and shamed. He would follow to the end. The ever-faithful gardener plundered boldly on. No braver hobbit one has seen than that of Sam Gamgee; verily, no truer friend, yea, no loyaler being. 'Til death's cold grasp meet him, he would plunder bravely, courageously on.

Minas Morgul

Samwise Gamgee, Hamfast's son, stared in horror as his master turned toward Minas Morgul. What was he doing? Had the Ring driven him mad? "Mr. Frodo!"

"No, not that way!"

"Come back!"

"It's calling me." The loyal friend grasped tightly his master's arm as Gollum petted Frodo and plead in vain. "Let go," came the weak, mesmerized command.

"Mr. Frodo, no." Sam and Gollum pulled strongly back the entranced Ringbearer. Sam felt relieved until a burst of energy came rising up. Quickly, he rushed off, but instinctively he turned back and called his master who lagged behind though danger loomed.

Mount Doom

"Master?" Sam called upon regaining consciousness. He rubbed his eyes and blinked, dizziness overtaking him. Finally, eyes focused, he glanced around only to find Frodo – or no Frodo – being attacked by a floating Gollum.

Sam cringed as his master cried out in agony and reappeared clutching his maimed hand, only to soon chase after the joyous, pathetic creature and knock him down, his Ring-lust getting the better of him.

Sam shook his head sadly, his legs and arms too weak to help him stand. How had his beloved master come to this? Why did he forget the life he had before?

Houses of Healing

Sam awoke from peaceful slumber, forever changed from his former self. "Where am I?" Sam muttered as he sat up, feeling slight pain in his back.

"You are safe," came a calm reply.

"Mr. Frodo…" moaned Sam, eyes searching. "Is he –?"

"No, he is across the way."

Sam threw back the covers and rushed out despite the healer's protest, longing to see how his master fared. He slowed his pace as he neared the door and peered inside. Happily, he stepped in, and his eyes rested a moment on the hand. As their eyes met, Sam felt himself Frodo's equal.

Shire

Sam rode behind Frodo on Bill as they came to the Shire. He was going home! He was happy, even more so since he had successfully brought Frodo back with him. Merry and Pippin rode beside Frodo, and talked eagerly of the Green Dragon. Sam felt out of place amongst the others who had been his companions for the most difficult trial in his life.

Sam saw ahead of him as he rode silently some dark figures standing, seeing these before Frodo, Merry, or Pippin even saw them. He shuddered, not liking the feeling he was getting. He had to get ahead of his master, fast. But Frodo began to speak to them, and Sam sat silently in the back, not sure of his place.

Grey Havens

Frodo was leaving. Sam could not quite grasp the reality of that fact. It was too much to comprehend when he still felt torn in two. That Quest, that Ring! If those had not happened or come to existence, he would have his Mr. Frodo in whole. He would not feel the need to leave him, not when Sam still wanted to know him better. But then he might never have gotten to know Frodo as he had, for Bilbo may not have left; he may never have desired to leave the Shire again after his own Journey.

Sam sighed, holding back tears, though they came flowing out despite the effort as his master embraced him and kissed his forehead. Then, his beloved friend boarded the ship, giving a reassuring smile, and Sam knew all would be all right.

 Fading Hope

He was tired. All he wanted was to sleep, but he could not, not when so much still had to be done, so much had to be protected. The gardener looked into the starry sky. It was black as everything around him seemed to be. His eyes had not seen light for what seemed like a few weeks. They were weary from the strain of wandering through the dark land to the Crack of Doom, tired of having to go on, straining to keep hold of the hope of returning home afterward. Now, that hope was fading – fading to naught.

 Goodbye

Do you hear me, Mr. Frodo? Sam wondered as he lay on the quickly fading mound of rock in the middle of the sea of lava. Can you see me? Or feel the heat growing about you? He looked at his beloved master with a wanton smile. He was there with him at the end of all things. He had done his duty, but he felt that he had not done it to his best. With one last glance, he closed his eyes. They would die. Sam let himself leave consciousness, missing the sight of hope that swooped from behind.

Gone

What was happening? He could hear loud noise outside, but he could not understand them. He threw on some clothes quickly, and raced outside – right into his uncle. Saradoc looked with dismay at his nephew. So young, so young. Frodo wondered silently what was wrong as his uncle steered him back inside.

“Frodo?”

“Yes?” Frodo’s eyes were wide with confusion.

“I – your parents have died.”

“Died? How?” Tears ran down the lad’s face.

“Their boat capsized.”

Frodo hung his head and sunk into the soft couch behind him. His uncle could not be serious. He could not. What did he mean “dead”?

“Your –” Saradoc sighed. “Your aunt and I will take you in. Frodo, do feel free to talk anytime.”

But Frodo did not reply, only rocking. Rocking and crying were all he could do. He was in shock. The most important people in his life were no more.

 Regret

Why did I not take him in? This lad who was the son of my relatives? Why did I not open my home and my heart to him? It could have been good for our son, and perhaps things would not have turned out how they did. My Lotho becoming a pawn of Sharkey. It could have made us all happy, made us more complete to have the common nephew of mine live amongst us. But, my foolish, young heart was jealous. I could not live to bear the thought of having one so “spoiled” as he in my home.