"I've thought of another use for you."
"U-use?" Sam stammered, the trace of humor under Gandalf's words somehow frightening him even more.
Without shifting the piercing stare that pinned Sam to the tabletop, Gandalf said, "Frodo, do you have a spare knapsack about? And perhaps a few other useful things that Sam might borrow for the journey?"
"J-journey?"
Stepping forward, Frodo said sharply, "You don't mean to have him accompany me?"
Finally releasing Sam from his gaze, Gandalf looked at Frodo, expression gentling. "I do. It's not safe for anyone to travel alone in these troubled times, and Sam can provide an extra pair of eyes and ears to watch for danger, as well as companionship for what will be a lonely trek."
Easing onto his feet and edging around the table to get as far away from the wizard as possible, Sam blurted, "I can't leave! Who'll see to Bag End? Or my Gaffer? I've too much to do to be traipsing off!"
Ignoring him, Gandalf put a hand on Frodo's shoulder. "Nor would it be safe to leave him here on his own with all that he knows. When the agents of the Enemy find their way to Bag End, it will be a small matter for them to discover who would be most likely to know your whereabouts. I do not think they would be kind in their questioning, nor inclined to believe whatever Master Gamgee might have to say unless it were forced from him."
Frodo glanced at him, and Sam held back another protest, sure that Gandalf would listen to an educated gentlehobbit long before he would listen to a gardener. "Then we send him elsewhere without telling anyone; to my Took cousins perhaps."
"And everyone in the Shire would know by mid-morning that he was there and you were not." Gandalf bent until he was at a level with Frodo and added more tenderly than Sam had ever heard, "There is no safety for him here."
"And there would be more traveling with me?" Frodo shook his head stubbornly, alarm coloring his features. "No, there must be a better way, even if we only hide him where none would think to look."
Straightening, Gandalf said, "If there were one, I promise you, we would use it."
Frodo's trying to protect me from whatever is after *him!* Sam realized, jaw dropping. He shut his mouth with a snap. That will never do. Without thinking, he said, "Well, then, there doesn't seem to be any help for it, so we best stop jabbering and get a-going, if you take my meaning."
"Sam," Frodo started.
"You're not going anywhere without me, so I might as well see what I can do about gathering up what we'll need from the kitchen."
Stepping close and lowering his voice as if to shut Gandalf out, Frodo said, "Sam, you don't have to do this. I'll be fine on my own."
"Begging your pardon, sir," Sam said, "but Mr. Gandalf is right. T'aint safe to be out and about without a stout lad or two at hand, and seeing as I'm all you've got near, we'll both have to make do. Bree ain't that far, and we'll both be back in no time."
Smiling slightly, Frodo said, "There's no use arguing with you now, is there?"
"No sir, none."
"Well, then," Gandalf said genially, breaking into their conversation, "It's settled. Frodo, go fetch those things for Sam while we see to the kitchen."
With a wave of his hand he put out the parlor fire, and added, "Lock up as you go, and take care you blow out any candles that might be lit. Oh, and Frodo, if you have anything lying about you don't want the Sackville-Bagginses pilfering, you might want to hide it. No doubt they'll use your unexpected absence as an excuse to try to claim Bag End, just as they did when your uncle was gone, and probably with a great deal more haste for fear you'll return the sooner."
Laughing, Frodo went down the hall of smial to do as told. Sam went into the kitchen, but not without a look or two over his shoulder at Gandalf, who was following him closely. Snorting to himself because it seemed Gandalf was expecting him to change his mind and slip out the garden door, Sam concentrated on what they needed. Almost without thinking, he reached for the right pots and pans, already mentally arranging them in his pack.
Sitting at the chair that first Bilbo, then Frodo, always kept at the table for him, Gandalf leaned on his staff and watched, so silent and still that Sam almost forgot he was there.
"Samwise, why were you listening at the window? Shouldn't you have been home asleep?"
Not knowing what to say, Sam didn't say anything, but went on with his work, despite the quiver of oddness in his middle.
"Sam?"
Reluctantly, Sam answered, "Summat told me that I needed to look in on Mr. Frodo, be sure he was safely abed."
When the questioning silence stretched out too long, he said slowly, getting it straight in his own mind as he did, "Maybe it was because I had more than my fair share of ale down at the Green Dragon and wasn't too steady on my feet. Or maybe because it was such a bright, clear night, too nice to be in a hurry to go inside. I sat down beside the road for a bit, waiting for my head to stop spinning some and admiring the stars. My Gaffer had left a light on in our hole, and I was thinking how cheery it was to have that beckoning me on, and hoping that he'd even laid on a bit of a fire since the evening was a mite chill."
Hands stopped mid-reach, Sam looked away into the distance, seeing nothing at all but remembering very clearly the little clench of pain around his heart when he thought of Frodo going into a cold, dark home with no one to look after him.
"I looked back at Bag's End, wishing I had waited at the gate until Mr. Frodo had lit a candle, so's I'd know he'd gotten to his own bed - he'd had more than a little ale himself. 'Stead of a single candle, the whole of Bag End was lit up and the fire was stoked. Bothered me, some. Like maybe Mr. Frodo found a problem when he came in. So I got to me feet and aimed myself that way, in case he needed me for something. When I got close I could hear voices - sound carries ever so well on a calm night like tonight, you know - and the tone of them."
Mentally shrugging, Sam went back to work. "I recognized your voice soon enough, but for once Mr. Frodo didn't sound happy to see you. Didn't seem proper to just invite myself in on a private conversation, and didn't feel right just to toddle off when he was so upset. So I listened in, thinking I could look in on him after you left, maybe. Or if the talk turned quiet, take myself off home."
"I see," Gandalf said in such a pleased way that Sam couldn't help but worry what was going on behind those bushy brows. "Well, most likely it's all for the best." He leaned forward, peering at Sam in a way that reminded him uncomfortably of when he'd been hauled in through the window. "You do know, don't you, that when the path becomes difficult, Frodo is going to hold himself responsible for you being brought into his troubles."
Sam put down the little bundle of spices he was holding. "Blame himself because I haven't enough sense not to put my nose where it didn't belong? I'll not stand for that."
"I doubt he'll share that particular regret with you until it's too late." Gandalf sat back, hand going to his pouch as if considering taking out his pipe. He didn't and took his staff in both hands again, almost in disappointment, Sam thought. "I'll wager that the first you will know of his remorse will be when you wake up alone with no idea of where he's gone."
"He wouldn't!" Sam burst out. "He couldn't. Not just *leave.*
"Come now, you know him as well as I do. Tell me what you think he would do if you were in danger, or worse yet, hurt, and he believed himself the cause?"
Much as Sam didn't want to admit it, Gandalf was right. Mr. Frodo wouldn't see that Sam would be doing what he was supposed to do - taking care of his master, no matter what. Despite that, it was hard for him to accept even the possibility that Frodo would simply leave him behind when he was so clearly needed.
"I see you're coming around to my way of thinking," Gandalf said, stabbing Sam again with his intense gaze. "Don't you lose him, Samwise Gamgee. I want you to promise me that you'll keep close watch on him at all times. Don't let him slip away."
Mildly insulted that Gandalf would think a promise necessary, Sam said, "I've no trouble with giving you my word on that, sir. Why, I'd never be able to look myself in the eye if I couldn't take better care of him than that."
"I thought that might be the case." There was no mistaking the satisfaction behind Gandalf's tone this time, and Sam spared a moment to wonder why.
Before Sam could convince himself to chance it and ask, Frodo came back into the kitchen, holding an untidy bundle in one hand and candle in the other. "I think this will do. One of Bilbo's spare knapsacks, some clothes from those you've left behind for one reason or another, Sam, and one of my old cloaks."
"No need to take one of yours. I might ruin it," Sam protested without thinking at the feel of the finely woven wool as Frodo dumped it all into his arms. "We can stop by my Gaffer's and pick up mine."
Laughingly, Frodo tugged the cloak free and draped it over Sam's shoulders. He deliberately dropped the hood over Sam's eyes for a moment before relenting and lifting it with two fingers on either side. "Don't be silly. Bilbo got this one for me when he thought I hadn't stopped growing yet. It's far too generous in the shoulders and chest; I get lost in it. And if you do tear it, it's easy enough to replace."
"Still," Sam began distractedly. A second later he forgot what he was arguing about, caught by the depth of Frodo's eyes.
Gandalf put out the kitchen fire with a sweeping gesture and opened the garden door. It left the smial completely dark except for a bright beam of moonlight pouring through the door. The silvery light turned Frodo's eyes to shining pools and gave his skin the look of purest alabaster, pale and delicate, imbuing him with almost otherworldly beauty. For a mad moment Sam wanted to stroke his fingers over Frodo's cheek to see if it was warm and living, or cool and smooth, like the moonlight itself. Almost, *almost,* he reached, the first two fingers of his hand already curled in anticipation, but darkness abruptly covered the room, startling them both.
Gandalf bent low to look in, expression hidden by the dip of his hat and brilliance behind him. "No, Sam, you cannot stop at your Gaffers for another cloak or anything else. Too much opportunity for too many questions! Quickly. Quickly, now. We've tarried far too long; we must be away before your neighbors awaken to see you go."
Gladly dismissing the peculiar moment, Sam hastily stuffed what he could into the pack and arranged pots and pots on the outside as Frodo rolled a blanket up for him and tied it to the top of the knapsack. Frodo helped Sam shrug into the pack, adjusting the fit quickly under Gandalf's impatient glare. Far too quickly for Sam's taste, they were out the door, latching it behind them, following Gandalf down the garden path toward the forest.
He looked back at Bag End once, hardly believing that it was rapidly vanishing behind them, despite a grinding ache in his stomach warning him that it was truly happening. Turning toward his own home, worried that he couldn't stop there at least long enough to warn his Gaffer that he was leaving, Sam lagged behind a step, then another.
He opened his mouth once to suggest just that, but snapped it shut again at a glower from Gandalf, and stole a peek at Frodo, intending to ask him to intercede on his behalf. He caught Frodo watching him out of the corner of his eyes, a small, worried frown in place, and immediately pushed his own troubles to the back of his mind. He had a promise to keep and a welcome duty to see to; that was all he really needed to dwell on. And how far was Bree, after all?
finish