I will not say the Day is done - english version

The servant

Before long, the days all looked the same at Hamfast Gamgee's: Sam spent them with Frodo, feeding him, washing him and giving him news of the Shire. The first time he applied the ointment on Frodo's skin, Sam took a thousand precautions. He was distressed by Frodo's skinny figure and scared by the idea of hurting him with blunt fingers. But the soft pressure on the aching muscles seemed to do him good, and Sam gained confidence. He took great care of his feet, worn out by long days of walking. Frodo's calves and thighs, though sadly gaunt, had become hard as wood. Sam flattered him about it, trying to provoke a reaction from Frodo, even if just a smile.

But Frodo remained silent. When he wasn't dozing, he looked at Sam with a suspicious or calculating look on his face. The first time Sam had massaged his feet with the ointment, Frodo hadn't taken his eyes off him for a second, as if he was trying to figure out what the other Hobbit really wanted. Some days he would try to fight off Sam's touch.

It broke Sam's heart, because Frodo might never forgive him for abandoning him, but more importantly, because his violent and terrified reactions told the whole story of what Frodo had gone through while he was away. The tortures inflicted by the orcs in the tower of Cirith Ungol, the hardships, the loneliness... Sam was unable to imagine all that he had experienced. How could he? If he had only suspected Frodo was alive and suffering such cruelty, he would never have agreed to come back to the Shire. He would have turned every stone in Mordor to find him. But the soldiers of Gondor who had gone in search of Frodo's remains had been positive: there was nothing left in Cirith Ungol. The tower had been destroyed, along with all of Sauron's dirty work. Sam had cried, shouted, begged, but to what end? To find a body? It wouldn't have brought Frodo back.
But then, he'd made a mistake. The soldiers were wrong. Everybody was wrong. Frodo had survived; he must have managed to escape the tower before it collapsed. How, Sam wouldn't know until Frodo told the story, if he ever agreed to tell it, and if the words came back to him. All Sam could do in the meantime was help his master become himself again. So Sam would talk to him about trivial things, so as not to plunge him back into the darkness of Mordor that so often seemed to haunt his nightmares. Sometimes Frodo would utter a word, which he would often repeat after Sam had said it, as if he was testing for himself those strange sounds that were once so familiar to him. When Sam sang, Frodo would sometimes hum the tune with a muffled rumble. Little by little, the suspicious glow left Frodo's eyes. It was already something.

Five days after Violet's visit, Rosie showed up at the door. She was reassured to find the Gaffer in good shape and didn't seem to notice the awkward atmosphere in the hole. Sam was constantly preoccupied, and the few hours Rosie spent in their company he passed them with his eyes riveted to the door of the room behind which Frodo was resting. After tea, the young Hobbit-lass went away, having made sure that Hamfast needed nothing, and Sam wanted to rush to his master when his father stopped him.

'Samwise,' he said in a stern voice. 'This cannot go on any longer. You're locked in here all day, you don't come out, and neither does Mr. Frodo! It's no good being locked up like this.'

'But, Da...'

'I know, I know, he's still too weak to run around, and too sick to been seen by anyone. Well, at least take him to the back yard. It'll be very quiet there, and these few steps will do him a world of good. You can't keep him in bed like that, it's not natural. A Hobbit needs to be on his feet.'

'You're right, Da. I'll go see if he wants to get up.'

Sam entered the room where Frodo was sitting on the bed, looking out at the tiny window. When Sam called his name, he turned his head.

'Mr. Frodo,' Sam said again as he approached slowly, 'how about going outside for a while? My father's right, you're going to make yourself sick by staying inside. Why don't you take a little walk in the garden, just to get some fresh air?'