It took several days for Frodo to resume his story. Revealing to his friends what he had had to do in order to survive made him sick two nights in a row, waking up in the middle of a nightmare before rushing to the chamber pot to vomit. Sam woke up with him, gently stroking his back and hair as he emptied his stomach in painful spasms. He would then take him to the washstand to help him freshen up. Frodo would then indulge in noisy and liberating sobs, the ones he held back as he told his story in the afternoons. He allowed himself to feel sorry for his own fate, in the arms of Sam who cradled him against his heart.

'Only you have seen what I have become, Sam,' he moaned. 'Like Gollum, fearing the light of day and the company of others. I saw myself becoming more like him every day, even though my steps were gradually bringing me closer to home. And how I resented you! I would spend days wondering what you were doing, if you were thinking about me, hoping that you had forgotten me, and hating you for it! I was going crazy, I had become crazy!'

Sam couldn't answer without crying in turn, so he held him a little tighter and rocked him gently.

'You had every right to be angry with me,' Sam finally whispered. 'It's natural that you felt all those things! You'd been through so much already, with the Ring, and the orcs, and the tunnel... Oh, Mr. Frodo, don't ever think that I could blame you for losing faith in me. How could I be angry with you? I've lost faith in myself many times too, and I've cursed myself more than you will ever curse me.'

'Oh, Sam...'

'But to have found you, to see you and touch you, well, glory and trumpets! It's the most beautiful thing possible, and it surpasses by far all the pain of losing you.'

At these words Frodo laughed, and Sam felt his heart swell with gratitude.

'We've been very shy with each other ever since I ran away from the Gaffer's with Merry and Pippin,' Frodo said in a somewhat shameful voice. 'I'd like you to kiss me again, if you don't mind. And maybe... maybe some other things too, if you don't find the idea too repulsive now...'

'Never!' exclaimed Sam forcefully.

There was so much vehemence in his protest that Frodo laughed again. And Sam, encouraged by this light sound, leaned over to kiss Frodo. There was nothing shy about that kiss. Frodo let out a little moan of surrender, marvelling at finding in the embrace of this familiar companion the thrill of desire. Sam let his hands wander a little over his master's body, dazzled to find, instead of the sharp feel of bones protruding under skin, the softness of flesh. His fingers slipped under the nightshirt, uncovering a thigh and lingering on a hip. He hesitated. Frodo took his hand and kissed it.

'Don't do anything you don't want to do,' he whispered.

'I wouldn't want to do anything you wouldn't me want to do, Frodo.'

There was a silence, then Frodo chuckled before laughing for good.

'Sam,' he said, taking a breath, 'we're not going to get very far, you and I, at this rate.'

'It's not a race,' Sam replied, his face flushed.

'No, of course it isn't. I feel I've embarrassed you. I'm sorry. I promise to tell you, if you do something I don't like. And I expect the same from you.'

'Okay,' Sam answered in a small voice.

They kissed again. The weariness of the disrupted night caught up with them as their hands began their lazy exploration again. Their mouths quenched a new thirst and their whole bodies pressed together. The embrace lost its vigour as their eyelids grew heavy, and soon they fell asleep.

The next day, when Frodo told the rest of his journey, he settled in Sam's lap as he had done the first time, Sam's arms firmly wrapped around his waist. There was nothing intimate about the way they held each other, and Sam marvelled at being able to hug Frodo like this without the others finding fault with it.

'Where was I?' Frodo asked, resting his cup of tea on the pedestal table.

'You were telling us about wintering in a small hut between the Anduin and Mirkwood.'

'Oh, yes, that's it. Winter. I actually stayed there until the middle of spring. I think I was trying — in vain — to get healthy again. I slept all the time, and tried to eat wild fruit. As if this kind of food would chase away the abominations I had fed my body. I chewed on aromatic herbs, not that it filled my stomach much, but I think they saved my teeth!'

'It's quite possible,' said Sam seriously. 'And if you ate thyme or rosemary you probably avoided some infections. It wasn't a bad idea.'

'You're too good to me, Sam. Anyway, in the middle of spring I set off again, still following the Anduin. It was the easiest way not to get lost, but certainly not the quickest route. I remember crossing the old forest road, I knew that if I followed it westward, through the mountains I would reach Rivendell. It was an enticing idea. But, for some reason, I was terrified that the elves would see me, and even more terrified that Bilbo would find out what I had become. I was obsessed with going back to the Shire, but terrified of being seen by anyone. It's absurd, isn't it?'

'Not at all,' said Pippin in a soft voice. 'You've suffered so much, Frodo, it's natural that you've been muddled and inconsistent.'

'You're very kind, Pippin.'

'So you didn't take the road?' asked Fatty.

'No, I kept going. It was madness, I had to cross that river some day, to reach my goal, and the ford there was my best option. But I went on, I passed the Carrock which Bilbo mentioned in his adventures. And at last, many weeks later, I arrived at a place where the Anduin was narrow enough to risk crossing on foot or by swimming. In spite of the summer heat, the river at this place close to the mountains was very cold, fortunately I found a passage shallow enough and was wet only up to my waist. Then I had to find a way to cross the mountain range that still separated me from the western regions. And autumn was approaching! I decided to attempt a crossing in spite of everything, and this is how I lost many more months away from you, my friends. I lost my way, of course. The rocky maze was unfamiliar to me, and I was very weak, too weak to brave the mountain. I found refuge in a cave — I guess I had become accustomed to such places by now. It did not stink like Shelob's cave, but food was scarce, and the provisions I had gleaned along the way were very small. I had kept one of the blankets from the hut on the Anduin with me, and I managed to make fire. I would have frozen to death otherwise, no doubt.
When the weather turned fine again, I wandered around the mountains for a few more weeks before I came back to a path, probably an old road — I'll have to look in the old maps of Bilbo. When I finally came down to the plains, I walked along the river Hoarwell. I had been sheltered in the mountains, among the rocks and caves, but I was still afraid of meeting trolls there. So I walked only in daylight, trying to stay out of sight, and stopped to rest only in hiding places so narrow that I did not risk to be caught.'

'And did you see any trolls?' Pippin asked.

'I saw some from a distance. But I think that my unappetising smell kept me from their curiosity.'

'But, Frodo,' said Merry, 'you were only a few weeks' walk from Bree, at the most. Why didn't we find you sooner?'

'My dear Merry,' replied Frodo with a sad laugh. 'It's just that fate was not finished with me! Exhausted and determined to complete my journey, in spite of the delirium that made me fear to see you all again, I finally reached the East Road. I was terrified of running into someone: my appearance could not inspire trust and I had no strength to defend myself. When I finally met a group of merchants, I was surprised to find them so friendly. They seemed worried about my condition, and gave me water and bread. I thought that the end of my ordeal had come, when they caught me and locked me in a cage they had hidden under a canvas in their wagon.'

'The scoundrels!' exclaimed Sam, outraged.

'I thought they were going to turn me over to the nearest local authority, but they did not. I traveled with them for several days without understanding who they were or what they wanted from me. When we arrived in a small village, I realised that my captors were a bunch of entertainers. They were doing tricks, music, pantomime, and I was the highlight of their show.'

'No!' said Fredegar angrily. 'But why?'

'You haven't seen me at my worst,' replied Frodo softly. 'I looked very much like a creature of Mordor, I think. I was dirty and smelly and very thin and pale, like a cave beast. And their trade consisted in giving the people who had suffered from Sauron's sinister works the satisfaction of seeing his servants humiliated and beaten. I was put on the stage and had to fight one of the men in a choreography that was meant to ridicule me. They fed me enough to keep me alive, but I was still very weak, too weak to even cry. Once this mock fight was over, the audience was invited to insult me and throw all sorts of things at me. It was often stones, rotten fruit, sometimes even worse. They often had a word for a fallen loved one, a burnt crop, a destroyed house. These people had suffered, and they were hungry for revenge. That is what I was exposed to, that was the injustice I was making right, if just for a night.'

Sam was furious. To imagine that Frodo could have been treated like that! He, who had contributed at the cost of his life — or his health at least — to put down the enemy of those who then revelled in seeing him suffer! It was more than he could bear. He gently removed Frodo from his lap and apologised. He stumbled outside where he unleashed his anger on the first tree stump he found. He punched it until his knuckles were bloody and he fell to the ground in tears. A hand rested on his shoulder and he turned around.

'We're all angry,' said Pippin in a soft voice. 'All this is terribly unfair.'

'The monsters...' hiccupped Sam as he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. 'I don't know what kind of sentence would be just to punish such viciousness!'

'This is not the time for this, Sam. Frodo needs us to listen to him, and most of all he needs you.'

'Yes, you're right, Mr. Pippin, but that's why I got out. I didn't want Mr. Frodo to be affected by my anger.'

'That's very kind of you. Will you please come back now?'

Sam nodded and Pippin took his arm. Before entering the house, he stopped him and embraced him fiercely.

'Thank you for everything you've done for him,' Pippin whispered. 'And thank you for saving us from seeing him when he was at his worst.'

'I did it for him as much as for you,' Sam answered.

'I know you did. But still, it was very brave of you.'

There was silence and they parted.

'Your poor hands!' exclaimed Pippin. 'Go and put them under cold water, we're waiting for you.'

Sam took Pippin's advice and joined the others in the parlour. When Frodo saw him enter, he gave him a worried look and Sam smiled faintly. He returned to his place in the armchair with Frodo on his knees and dared place a kiss on his temple. Merry spoke up:

'We've heard of these entertainers who take poor creatures on stage to be lynched by mobs... Some of them tried to come and perform in the Shire, but we made sure that they were banned. We had no idea then that you had suffered from it, too.'

'And that only proves your kindness,' said Frodo with a smile. 'During my captivity, I had several companions of misfortune. Creatures I would have wished dead a few years earlier, but whom I pitied now. Orcs, most of them. Those who were caught were often in a very bad shape and I had little to fear from them. The poor things were stoned to death by the raging crowd.'

'And you didn't have your mithril shirt on, to protect you?'

'I had been searched and stripped of my knife and mithril shirt the very first day. The jesters had no idea how valuable it was, otherwise they would probably have gotten rid of me and stopped their dishonest trade for good. I remember feeling deprived of a part of me, as if the last thread that tied me to who I was had been broken. After all, this shirt could have helped my former companions to recognise me! But I think I decided, at that moment, that survival was what mattered most.'

'Didn't you try to plead your case? To tell them who you were?' asked Fatty.

'Alas, I was deprived of the skill of speech, then. I had gone two years without speaking to anyone. I was already having trouble understanding them, as if they were speaking a language I had known a long time ago and that now escaped me. No, I could only hope they wouldn't kill me. They would feed me and, even though we were heading south and away from home, I would take advantage of being carried in a wagon to rest. In the end, even though the regular performances we gave were a real torture for my aching body and mind, I was rather better off than I had been.'

'Frodo,' said Merry, 'only you could say such a thing!'

'You're too generous with these scoundrels,' said Pippin.

'I don't forgive them, don't think I can be so charitable! But I must admit that I regained some strength during that time. And so we travelled to the mouth of the Greyflood River. There we spent the autumn and part of the winter. The company had sold my chain mail and divided the gold among themselves. I think that caused some tension between them. And I'm sure they didn't get a tenth of its value for it. But still, it was a real fortune to them. They took advantage of their money to take shelter during the cold season and to afford quality lodgings. I often slept chained in the stable with the animals and this was the warmest I had felt in a long time.
Even though I was a prisoner, I think that this period was helpful since it got me used to the presence of others again. Language especially, came back to me slowly, and I tried to talk to myself, as if I was trying to operate an old rusty machinery again. And then, one day, we started travelling the road back north. I don't know how many weeks went by, but I still remember clearly the evening when one of my captors announced to the others that our next stop would be the last one before we reached Bree.'