Whether it could be helped or not, Sam hardly liked holding this suspicion with him. He wanted to trust in Frodo, and simply to believe him, but the more thought he afforded it, the less and less he found himself able to trust Frodo, his place here or the city at all. He wondered on himself; on what this place meant to him, on his being here. He wondered on Kili and Bilbo and Thorin, and he wondered on Gandalf. Sam had no idea how any of them came to be in this place, nor why they had been brought here as a collective. He didn't know why some were not as he remembered - most specifically, dead or a great deal more aged then they appeared here - and why none acknowledged this discrepancy but him.

He wondered on much, but none of these things hurt him quite as much as the distrust he held for Frodo.

He looks briefly at his master when he speaks. His eyes quickly fall, but his expression remains just as stony as it had been.

"Whatever it is that brung us all here without no word of it, sir."