A drouble (200 words)
May. 28th, 2004 10:26 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rabidsamfanDeparture
It wasn’t until the bags were sitting on the porch that he realized that he would never see Bag End again -- not the way that it should be – not with the Sackville-Bagginses moving all their truck in tomorrow. He padded softly through rooms, remembering. Chalk and pipeweed and Mr. Bilbo saying the names of the letters. Soap and flour and his mother rattling pans on the stove of a morning. Leather and iron and dwarves leaving marks in the floor with their hobnailed boots. Books and fireworks and Gandalf’s voice rumbling like approaching thunder. Ink and parchment and Mr. Frodo wandering out to listen to tavern-gossip for a while before going back to his books.
He paused in the doorway of the empty study and put a hand on his stomach, wondering if it were possible to be homesick before you’d even gone off. For half a moment all he wanted was to run for Bagshot Row and put his head under the covers.
But there was no turning back. “A drop of beer, that’s what you need, Sam Gamgee,” he told himself, and went to the cellar to find it.
Malt courage was better than none at all.
Timeline (fiction only, most recent version, includes AU) first previous next last
It wasn’t until the bags were sitting on the porch that he realized that he would never see Bag End again -- not the way that it should be – not with the Sackville-Bagginses moving all their truck in tomorrow. He padded softly through rooms, remembering. Chalk and pipeweed and Mr. Bilbo saying the names of the letters. Soap and flour and his mother rattling pans on the stove of a morning. Leather and iron and dwarves leaving marks in the floor with their hobnailed boots. Books and fireworks and Gandalf’s voice rumbling like approaching thunder. Ink and parchment and Mr. Frodo wandering out to listen to tavern-gossip for a while before going back to his books.
He paused in the doorway of the empty study and put a hand on his stomach, wondering if it were possible to be homesick before you’d even gone off. For half a moment all he wanted was to run for Bagshot Row and put his head under the covers.
But there was no turning back. “A drop of beer, that’s what you need, Sam Gamgee,” he told himself, and went to the cellar to find it.
Malt courage was better than none at all.
Timeline (fiction only, most recent version, includes AU) first previous next last
