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A trembling hand met sturdy wood.
Sam drew back, he regretted knocking the instant he had done it. It would be wishful thinking to even consider that Frodo hadn’t heard it. Sound travelled easily in hobbit dwellings and Sam knew well that his master's home was no different than the ordinary.
Suddenly the silence and usual tranquility of Bag End was far too much to bear and Sam groaned. He paced the grass of the front garden, freshly trimmed only that day by himself. There was a slight chill in the air and Sam really did consider turning away and going back to his own house.
However, the latter, nonsensical, side of his brain didn’t like that idea. He had knocked and therefore had to wait to see if when Frodo came to answer it.
They had only arrived back as of recent. Sam had been so exhausted he had slept like a baby for the best part of two weeks. That was, of course, until tonight. Sam had woken up in a cold sweat, eyes searching frantically in the dark of his room for someone who was not there. As irrational a thought it seemed now he had sprung out of his bed and then out of his house, bounding straight next door and into his current predicament.
For the entirety of the hobbits' unfortunate venture Sam had not slept apart from Frodo. He had stayed on watch most nights, though he tended to find his gaze landed on Frodo far more than it did on any potential dangers. He found he could not feel peace until he could see the rise and fall of the other man's chest or hear the ever so soft sounds he made in his slumber.
Some days he even found himself slipping closer to the sleeping man just to feel the warm breath on his hand, a consistent reminder that Frodo was alive. On the worst of days he would wake from his own slumber and find himself unable to fall back asleep until Frodo made a particularly lively move. And if Frodo ever caught him staring, neither mentioned it.
Apparently Sam hadn’t broken his habit, for here he still stood, at the front door of Frodo Baggins, waiting for him to answer the door just so Sam could selfishly make sure he was okay.
His thoughts weren’t allowed to wander much further because far too suddenly the door creaked open and there Frodo stood. He was hunched in on himself and yawned as soon as the chill of the air hit him. Sam would have said something if words had not abandoned him.
Frodo had also seemingly expected the other to say something as he didn’t rush to make a greeting.
“Sam.” He stated simply, and all too quickly did Sam come to his senses.
Frodo had sounded tired but his voice lacked the rasp it usually held after being deep in slumber. This would have been an odd thing to notice if the two of them had not spent months in each other's company.
Sam bowed deeply. All of his embarrassment and regret bubbled up to the surface and he suddenly felt deeply ashamed. As was made apparent by the deep blush that now covered his face and the tips of his ears.
“My very sincerest apologies Master Frodo. It was impolite of me to come at this hour.”
Frodo sighed and a moment of silence passed between the two. He opened his mouth as though he was going to say something, but before any words could depart he shivered and changed his mind.
“Come inside. There’s still a fire going.”
And thus the door to Bag End was opened wide enough for Sam to squeeze in. It was shut quickly behind him in order to retain the warmth that had managed to pack into the home.
It was only in the dim light that the older hobbit could now see that Sam was still wearing his bedclothes. This had not been an anticipated visit and Frodo could only hope that nothing unfortunate would come of it. Though that would truly be wishful thinking.
”You’re lucky I haven't made for bed yet.” Frodo spoke, trying to guide his thoughts away from the worst case scenario.
He made a slow walk for the living quarters where the fire was settled and where Frodo had resided all evening through to the now early morning. Sam was quick to be on his tail and followed close behind. Perhaps closer than usual.
“I truly do apologise sir. I didn’t want to-“ He hesitated “I’m sorry”
Frodo gave him a quick, apologetic look over his shoulder.
If it had been any other time of day this wouldn’t have caused Sam to tear up, but alas, he did. It was a mere silly thought that brought him here in the first place and that same silly thought made emotion well up in his eyes. He felt like he'd never looked any more idiotic.
“You're forgiven.” Frodo said cautiously. “Sam…” He stopped suddenly in the wake of the living quarters and faced Sam head on.
In the glow of the fire Frodo could see Sam for everything he was. And while it didn't yet make complete sense to him — he could still understand Sam perfectly.
Sam couldn't look the elder in the eyes. If he did, the dam would break, and he knew tonight that he would be unable to stop it.
“Sam,” Frodo said again. He'd hoped that maybe he'd catch the other hobbit's eyes this time. “Why are you here?”
His words were soft, spoken with such care that Sam almost crumbled on the spot. He sniffled and finally attempted to look into the other's eyes only to find that same softness looked back at him. His suspicions proved right, he wasn't strong enough to hold back and tears flooded his eyes whilst he let out a choked whimper for an answer.
Frodo didn't utter a word. He reached out and carefully pulled Sam into his arms where the other quickly made himself at home. If his cries alone weren't enough to break Frodo's heart then his trembling hands and weak grip on his shirt certainly did.
Frodo pulled him closer. As close as possible. And still he wasn't content with their proximity until Sam weakly rested his head on his shoulder. He sighed and gently ran a hand through the hair at the nape of the other's neck. It didn't take long for Frodo to get misty eyed and allow the slip of a few tears for himself.
They had always shared sentiments, and even if Frodo didn't yet know what Sam was upset about, he felt it all the same.
It took a while for the choked sobs of his friend to die down. So much so that Frodo began to feel the ache in his heels and knew he had to sit down soon. But Frodo refused to let Sam go, he'd much rather collapse in the hall than part from the younger man.
“Come, rest by the fire with me.” He said as softly as he could.
Sam leaned back and tried to step away. And if Frodo grabbed his hands and squeezed them tight, neither of them mentioned it.
The elder guided Sam hand-in-hand to sit on the rug in front of the fireplace. It was his favourite place to sit. Often he'd find his nights entirely spent tucked away against the arm of a chair, possibly reading, probably not.
Frodo settled on the floor and let Sam come down at his own pace. There they sat, knee to knee, hand in hand, listening to the crackle of the fire. It was only a matter of time until one of them cracked and started speaking.
Though neither of them seemed too inclined to start straight away so the moments passed them by, the fire grew and shrunk and grew again, and their hands grew uncomfortably clammy in one another's. But they both refused to let go.
Eventually, Sam was the one to fall under the weight of the silence and he broke it.
“I really am terribly sorry Mr Frodo.” He said with a voice so small Frodo could've been convinced it wasn't Sam he was talking to.
“It's of no bother to me, really.” He replied, squeezing his hand ever so slightly. “Though I must ask, and I do hope you'll answer — what brings you here so early in the day that has you so distressed?”
They sat in another bout of silence as Sam gathered his thoughts and words together. Frodo looked at him and almost immediately adorned a small grin when he saw Sam sporting his thinking face. It may have been in distaste to be smiling so giddily, but the other hobbit's face whilst deep in thought had never failed to charm Frodo.
“I'm afraid it's nothin’ all that serious sir.” Sam started “You see, I woke up scared for ya. I've grown so used to lookin' out for ye durin’ the night an' all that I seem to not yet be used to not havin' to do that anymore.”
Frodo nodded where he thought necessary and wore the most sincere, sympathetic smile. He didn't say anything for it was obvious Sam wasn't yet finished.
“I needed to see you… Well, alive, breathin’. I'm sorry it had to be so early in the mornin’, I panicked, it won't happen again I swear on it!”
“Oh, Sam…”
Frodo didn't say anything more and tugged Sam into another hug.
He tucked the younger man's head against his chest and let the gesture speak for itself. He rested his head atop of Sam's with both arms wrapped firmly around him.
And if they didn't let go of each other until long into the morning, neither mentioned it.
“You’re not a burden to me Samwise Gamgee. Nor are your quirks or odd behaviors.” Frodo stated. “You walked to the edge of the world and back for me. If seeing me merely breathe is all you need in return then you don't have to ever leave my side again.”
“Thank you.” Sam muttered underneath his breath. “Though, I will have to tend to your garden at some point.”
“Then I'll be there.”