A.N. This is all in Sam's POV…just letting you know. And…this is not meant to be slash. Though I am not homophobic at all and I have written some slash stories, I do not intend this to be a FrodoSam pairing. It's all about friendship, my dears! And isn't friendship a vital element of our lives?

I was rudely awakened from a fitful, but deep slumber by a nasty, pointed pebble digging into my ribs. My unconscious self must have positioned my body in the wrong way. This subliminal mistake results in pain and eventually arousal. Whether it was a root, a rock, a hard mound of dirt, a prickly bur, or even a dreadful bone (I have been unfortunate enough to have one of those poking into my back), something would always wake me up in the middle of the night. I have been on this quest for Eru-knows how long and still I am a light sleeper.

I let out a sleepy groan but immediately clapped a hand over my mouth when I remembered something…Mr. Frodo.

"Nice going, Samwise Gamgee," A voice chided inside my head. "Now you're going to wake Mr. Frodo up from all your racket."

I had been traveling alone with Mr. Frodo for a few weeks or so. Well, I don't exactly know how long. Time was such an elusive thing in those parts. The days seemed to be getting shorter and the nights seemed to drag ceaselessly. It was sheer torment.

Anyhow, I was angry at myself for making noise. You see, though I was a light sleeper, Mr. Frodo, on the other hand, was a very tolerant sleeper…that is…until that awful ring began to consume him like a hobbit consumes his breakfast sausages.

Now Mr. Frodo was a lighter sleeper than I was. And I know this for a fact because I've watched him. He'll be lying on his back (which the first sign that he is indeed not sleeping because Mr. Frodo normally sleeps on his side), and then I'd watch him gaze up at the dimly lit stars as he'd clutch that horrible thing around his neck. It was awful of me to spy, I know, but I was just worried. Mr. Frodo needed his sleep more than anyone in Middle Earth, in my humble opinion.

"If only we had the ingredients needed to make Mr. Frodo some nice, calming tea," I thought wistfully to myself. "Maybe that would help him get some shut eye."

I slowly turned over on my other side to face Mr. Frodo and as I saw his face, I had to contain a heavy sigh of relief. He was asleep, bless him.

It was one of my favorite sights to see, Mr. Frodo blissfully dead to the world. His gentle, soft eyelids masked his remarkable blue eyes, his pink lips were effortlessly pressing together, and his breathing was sweet and slow, without a care. Or…so I thought.

Alas, I looked down at his chest and saw his hand there, clenching around the ring. His knuckles were white on his fair flesh as he fisted the accursed thing harder and harder. I hated it when he did that.

I reached out my hand to pull his hand away, but before my fingers even brushed against his hand, Mr. Frodo began to whimper and moan.

"You fool, Samwise! You have woken him up!"

But to my surprise, Mr. Frodo was not awakened. Instead his facial features became distorted in a grimace of pain and he began shivering, squeezing the trinket tighter and tighter and letting out agonized cries.

When his trembling became violent, I could no longer lie there, watching him idly. I had to do something for my dear master and friend.

So, I quickly scrambled over to his side and began lightly stroking the chocolate colored curls on his head.

"It's going to be alright, Mr. Frodo. Calm down." I whispered gently, hoping that my voice would just soothe him and not wake him.

The violently shaking arm whose hand was not holding the ring reached out to me and I ardently took it in mine. His hand was icy cold and clammy.

His face relaxed slightly at the touch of my hand as I gave it a loving squeeze, hoping to spread a little warmth to him. I wished fervently that he would let go of that ring.

Suddenly, he began scooting up closer to me until his quivering body was pressed against mine.

I wrapped my arms around him, letting go of his hand momentarily until he groped around to find it again, almost shoving his hand into mine.

I held him tighter and his trembling ceased. His breathing slowed as he leaned his head back upon my chest, allowing me to rest my chin on his soft mop of hair.

We were close then. Close enough to feel each other's heartbeat and hear each other's breath. We were close. Close…like friends should always be.

Little did I know, as we slept the night away, Mr. Frodo's grip on the ring began to loosen until he dropped it entirely. Only for that night.