Storybit -- "R & R"
Mar. 22nd, 2004 11:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rabidsamfanThis and the other piece I posted tonight are part of the same story, but I haven't figured out which bit happens first...
Sam was slumped in the Gaffer’s chair, his breakfast plate forgotten on the floor beside him. He turned his head a little as Frodo came in out of the bright morning light.
“Well it's gone.”
Frodo thought Sam was talking about the Ring until he saw that Sam was turning Galadriel's box in his hands. "There was a wee bit left, but I couldn’t do no more, and I didn’t know as it would stay good past this Spring, so I stopped at the Three Farthing Stone on the way and gave it to the wind." He handed the box to Frodo. "I hope that was the right thing to do."
"I'm sure it was, Sam," Frodo said, opening the small box in his hands. A single grain of dust clung to the bottom, so tiny that only the glow of its magic gave it away. How many trees had Sam planted in these few months? Hundreds at least, perhaps thousands. So many grains of dust would fit into even this small a box, and he'd watched Sam planting the chestnuts along the Bywater road, using tweezers to place a single speck of Galadriel's gift with each of the new trees. There must hardly be a village in the Shire that hadn't seen Sam come through since fall.
Small wonder he was tired.
Frodo touched Sam's shoulder and for a long moment he saw his friend and servant with the strange new vision that the Ring had bequeathed him -- not as a hobbit, but as a tree that has been roughly uprooted and washed downstream until it comes to a muddy place and tries to take root again.
The vision passed, and as his eyes adjusted to the dimness of the smial he realized that Sam was pale and drawn, and almost as thin as he’d been last March. Rosie was right. A puff of wind would put him on the road again.
Frodo let the bittersweet temptation linger for a moment. How marvelous to leave the troubles of the Shire behind. How soothing to walk in the wilderness again with Sam beside him and Lothlorien ahead, and no burden to trouble either of them as they sat and shared a bit of supper.
“Sam, you addlepate, have you let your breakfast go cold?” the Gaffer stood in the doorway, peering at the half-filled plate by his son’s feet. “There’s no call to go wastin’ vittles.”
“You can have it, Dad,” Sam said, with the careful clarity that they’d learned worked best in the face of his father’s deafness. “I had a good breakfast before I started out this morning.” He started to lever up, but Frodo stopped him, and shook his head as he bent to retrieve the plate.
“Not this time,” he said. “It’s all right, Master Gamgee. I’ll see to Sam.”
“Well and good, Mr. Frodo,” said the old hobbit, unoffended. “He might listen to you when he don’t listen to sense.” He picked up a trowel that he’d left on a shelf by the door and went outside again.
Frodo put the spoon into Sam’s hand and the plate onto his lap.
“You need to eat, Sam,” he ordered. “At least a few bites more. And then you need some proper sleep. You’ve worn yourself out with all this traveling.”
Sam almost smiled for a moment, and he dutifully ate a bite of the porridge, but then he put the spoon carefully down. “Maybe after I’ve slept some,” he said.
Frodo thought of all the breakfasts he’d barely touched and forbore from chiding Sam. “If you’re sure, Sam.”
“I am.” Sam pushed himself out of the chair, and stumbled towards the bedroom. Frodo followed him and helped him get out of the heavy mail shirt. Sam was too tired to make more than a token protest, and Frodo waved it aside.
“I don’t mind, Sam. You can’t sleep in all that.”
“I did on the road,” Sam said, rocking gently where he stood. “It don’t matter.”
Frodo realized that there were tears running down Sam’s face, and steered his exhausted friend into the bed. “What is it, Sam?” he asked.
“It’s Gollum,” Sam said, turning his head on the pillow as if he were ashamed to have said as much.
Gollum? Frodo sat very still as the memories of Smeagol danced in front of his eyes. “What about him?” he asked, when he could speak again.
“Two years ago today he fell, Mr. Frodo, and ain’t nobody grieved for him yet.”
“And aren’t you grieving for him now, Sam?” Frodo said, pulling the blanket up to Sam’s shoulders. “He’s not forgotten, Sam. I promise.”
“But he’s gone. And he didn’t have to be, or Gandalf wouldn’t’ve come to the mountain with three eagles and not just two. And it’s my fault. I never thought about how hard words hurt.” For a moment his eyes went to the window, where the Gaffer could be seen puttering among the flowerbeds. “I wonder sometimes… he was so quietlike there on the stairs… If I’d not called him a sneak…”
“I hurt him first and worst at the pool by Henneth Annun,” said Frodo. “He might still have come to me if I’d told him the truth, but I never gave him the chance.”
“You meant no harm,” Sam said, taking Frodo’s hand. “And you’d been woke out of a sound sleep, and the first good bed you’d seen in a long time.”
“Just as you’d been wakened on the Stairs,” Frodo reminded him. “There’s no good in wondering about might have beens, Sam. We did our best.”
“I’ll believe it if you will,” Sam said, closing his eyes.
Frodo waited, but Sam didn’t speak again, and his breathing softened. “It wasn’t your fault,” he whispered, when he was sure that Sam was sleeping. “None of it was.”
Sam was slumped in the Gaffer’s chair, his breakfast plate forgotten on the floor beside him. He turned his head a little as Frodo came in out of the bright morning light.
“Well it's gone.”
Frodo thought Sam was talking about the Ring until he saw that Sam was turning Galadriel's box in his hands. "There was a wee bit left, but I couldn’t do no more, and I didn’t know as it would stay good past this Spring, so I stopped at the Three Farthing Stone on the way and gave it to the wind." He handed the box to Frodo. "I hope that was the right thing to do."
"I'm sure it was, Sam," Frodo said, opening the small box in his hands. A single grain of dust clung to the bottom, so tiny that only the glow of its magic gave it away. How many trees had Sam planted in these few months? Hundreds at least, perhaps thousands. So many grains of dust would fit into even this small a box, and he'd watched Sam planting the chestnuts along the Bywater road, using tweezers to place a single speck of Galadriel's gift with each of the new trees. There must hardly be a village in the Shire that hadn't seen Sam come through since fall.
Small wonder he was tired.
Frodo touched Sam's shoulder and for a long moment he saw his friend and servant with the strange new vision that the Ring had bequeathed him -- not as a hobbit, but as a tree that has been roughly uprooted and washed downstream until it comes to a muddy place and tries to take root again.
The vision passed, and as his eyes adjusted to the dimness of the smial he realized that Sam was pale and drawn, and almost as thin as he’d been last March. Rosie was right. A puff of wind would put him on the road again.
Frodo let the bittersweet temptation linger for a moment. How marvelous to leave the troubles of the Shire behind. How soothing to walk in the wilderness again with Sam beside him and Lothlorien ahead, and no burden to trouble either of them as they sat and shared a bit of supper.
“Sam, you addlepate, have you let your breakfast go cold?” the Gaffer stood in the doorway, peering at the half-filled plate by his son’s feet. “There’s no call to go wastin’ vittles.”
“You can have it, Dad,” Sam said, with the careful clarity that they’d learned worked best in the face of his father’s deafness. “I had a good breakfast before I started out this morning.” He started to lever up, but Frodo stopped him, and shook his head as he bent to retrieve the plate.
“Not this time,” he said. “It’s all right, Master Gamgee. I’ll see to Sam.”
“Well and good, Mr. Frodo,” said the old hobbit, unoffended. “He might listen to you when he don’t listen to sense.” He picked up a trowel that he’d left on a shelf by the door and went outside again.
Frodo put the spoon into Sam’s hand and the plate onto his lap.
“You need to eat, Sam,” he ordered. “At least a few bites more. And then you need some proper sleep. You’ve worn yourself out with all this traveling.”
Sam almost smiled for a moment, and he dutifully ate a bite of the porridge, but then he put the spoon carefully down. “Maybe after I’ve slept some,” he said.
Frodo thought of all the breakfasts he’d barely touched and forbore from chiding Sam. “If you’re sure, Sam.”
“I am.” Sam pushed himself out of the chair, and stumbled towards the bedroom. Frodo followed him and helped him get out of the heavy mail shirt. Sam was too tired to make more than a token protest, and Frodo waved it aside.
“I don’t mind, Sam. You can’t sleep in all that.”
“I did on the road,” Sam said, rocking gently where he stood. “It don’t matter.”
Frodo realized that there were tears running down Sam’s face, and steered his exhausted friend into the bed. “What is it, Sam?” he asked.
“It’s Gollum,” Sam said, turning his head on the pillow as if he were ashamed to have said as much.
Gollum? Frodo sat very still as the memories of Smeagol danced in front of his eyes. “What about him?” he asked, when he could speak again.
“Two years ago today he fell, Mr. Frodo, and ain’t nobody grieved for him yet.”
“And aren’t you grieving for him now, Sam?” Frodo said, pulling the blanket up to Sam’s shoulders. “He’s not forgotten, Sam. I promise.”
“But he’s gone. And he didn’t have to be, or Gandalf wouldn’t’ve come to the mountain with three eagles and not just two. And it’s my fault. I never thought about how hard words hurt.” For a moment his eyes went to the window, where the Gaffer could be seen puttering among the flowerbeds. “I wonder sometimes… he was so quietlike there on the stairs… If I’d not called him a sneak…”
“I hurt him first and worst at the pool by Henneth Annun,” said Frodo. “He might still have come to me if I’d told him the truth, but I never gave him the chance.”
“You meant no harm,” Sam said, taking Frodo’s hand. “And you’d been woke out of a sound sleep, and the first good bed you’d seen in a long time.”
“Just as you’d been wakened on the Stairs,” Frodo reminded him. “There’s no good in wondering about might have beens, Sam. We did our best.”
“I’ll believe it if you will,” Sam said, closing his eyes.
Frodo waited, but Sam didn’t speak again, and his breathing softened. “It wasn’t your fault,” he whispered, when he was sure that Sam was sleeping. “None of it was.”
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(no subject)
Date: 2004-03-22 10:26 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-03-22 11:28 pm (UTC)i love how Frodo is taking care of Sam too... i think most fanfic writers emphasize the Sam care for Frodo..i love how you reverse roles =)
and i agree with perhaps looking at Sam's guilt with Gollum in his point of view... very nice observations and thoughts.. its' good to know that Frodo might not be the only once carrying guilt and thoughts about the Quest... Sam was hurt too and it'll take time for him to heal as well =)
Thanks a lot, rabidsamfan =)
(no subject)
Date: 2004-03-23 04:11 am (UTC)*bows deeply to your genius* This is an incredible chapter! So much emotion, and Sam mourning for Gollum. Amazing. I would never have thought of this.
(no subject)
Date: 2004-03-23 04:47 am (UTC)I was rather surprised when I first saw the movie and the eagle Gandalf was riding picked up Frodo. I always assumed that the eagles might not be able to carry much more than a man's weight so Gandalf would ride one as guide and the other two would pick up a hobbit each. Of course that is assuming thazt Gollum is dead or maybe that an eagle could manage a hobbit and a Gollum.
:-)
Date: 2004-03-23 02:19 pm (UTC)Re: :-)
Date: 2004-03-23 02:36 pm (UTC)Re: :-)
Date: 2004-03-23 02:58 pm (UTC)And THANK YOU for that Gollum piece...you wouldn't believe all the looks I get when I say I always felt sad when Gollum fell into the fire, and that piece about Sam expressing regret over his death was amazing.
oh, yeah, please do friend me, LOL.
(no subject)
Date: 2004-03-24 03:11 am (UTC)