Then he got up and slowly began to walk back home. He needed to sleep, after several restless nights.
* * *
That same hot night, while Frodo was out in the fields, Sam was at home, but awake as well.
It was too stuffy to sleep and the sweat had turned his tiny bed into a mess. But what was keeping Sam’s mind vigil was the constant thought of Mr. Frodo.
Suddenly all had became so difficult. The nice gentlehobbit, greeting him every morning with a wide smile, talking with him while he was working in the garden, often sharing lunch with him and spending more than one drinking evening at the Green Dragon, was now avoiding him every time he could.
Sam could not understand why, and the only answer that came to his mind was that lately he had been watching Frodo with different eyes.
With desiring eyes, he had to admit, often peering through the window when Frodo was in his room, or following him with his gaze when he went out for his walks.
Maybe Frodo had realized this and felt embarrassed, if not disgusted.
This sudden thought was unbearable to Sam. He had to talk to Mr. Frodo and put the matter straight. He got up, dressed and went out of his smial, hoping, since he knew Frodo’s habits, to find him still awake.
He had just passed the front gate on Bagshot Row, when he met Frodo, returning home from his walk. He looked so pale and tired, but immensely beautiful all the same.
Sam felt his heart pounding madly and gathered all his courage. “Mr. Frodo!”
Frodo almost startled at the sight of Sam, but tried to hide his embarrassment without stopping. “Let me go Sam, I’m tired and I need to sleep.”
“Of course you need sleeping, begging your pardon, you spent a lot of nights awake …”
“That’s none of your business, Sam.” Frodo sounded harsher than he had intended. But at least he had stopped and turned to face Sam.
“Please Mr. Frodo, we can’t go on like this. Is there something wrong I did? You seem to avoid me, to escape from me anytime I’m near you.”
The sad look in Sam’s eyes, and his desperate plea, made Frodo heart tighten with guilt. He wanted more than anything to throw his arms around his beloved friend, to tell him the truth. Instead, he heard his own soft voice, almost trembling, “No Sam, you did nothing wrong. Now let me alone, I want to be alone …”, before turning again towards Bag End.
But Sam could not accept just letting him go without any explanation and, rapidly following Frodo, took him by the arm. Frodo hastily pulled it away from his strong grip, a mix of anger and sadness in his eyes, now fixed on Sam’s.
“Why, Mr. Frodo? Is there something troubling you?”
Frodo nodded.
“So why don’t we talk, we’ve always been talking about everything, until …until now.”
Sam’s eyes were so intense and he was so genuinely worried, that Frodo felt he was close to surrendering. But he couldn’t.
“There’s nothing to talk about, you would not understand.” That said, Frodo turned his back on the other hobbit and walked quickly to Bag End.
Sam stood by the gate of his smial in silence, his heart caught in a painful grip. It was true, he didn’t understand. When he turned to enter, he saw his Gaffer beside the door.
“Come inside Sam, I think we need to talk.”
* * *
