Golden snowflakes.
Chapter one: Of letters and holidays.
T: Hello people. Yep I'm back again with another LOTR fan fiction. This one's a little special though because the concept entirely mine, there are no what if questions and it has (hopefully) more than two chapters. Right to the disclaimer shall we? None of the characters or places mentioned here in are mine, trust me you'd know if I owned Sam…You'd know! Spoilers for ROTK and so therefore logically the other books also, book cannon which means that those of you who have seen the movie and not read the books may get a little confused. Of slash leanings though I haven't decided yet if it will go any further than it has at the moment…I'll see. Onwards.
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Bilbo Baggins was perplexed, he had faced down dragons, tossed away a Ring of power and horror of horrors, seen Lobelia Sackville Baggins naked and yet all of this was nothing compared to the agonising horror he was experiencing in attempting to write a letter to his Nephew.
Throwing his quill to one side he stared hard at the ink stained sheet before him. Everything had begun so easily, with a brisk edge of thanks for the letter Frodo had written him, but it was what came after that was causing Bilbo such strife. It was not that he did not wish to write back to Frodo, but that he no longer knew quite how to treat his dear Nephew any longer. For Frodo's continued contact with the Ring had changed him in a way that none could understand. Of course it had been widely agreed that if any person were to relate to Frodo it would be Bilbo, the older hobbit having carried the Ring for as long as he had. However, Bilbo had almost completely forgotten his time with the Ring in the peace of Rivendale and was now no more help to Frodo than an ordinary hobbit.
Somehow though, Frodo seemed to have made his own recovery for there was an edge of his old frolicsome nature contained within the letter, mixed though it was with the ordinary self-doubting, self-hating tone that was Frodo's norm of late. Stranger still was the finely crafted broach that Frodo had sent with the letter, for in its simple representation of the great tower of Gondor, wrought in iron and jade, there was an edge of almost elfin beauty. It was very surprising, therefore, to learn that his Nephew had created the broach earlier in the season supposedly to `keep his mind from things`.
Taking his quill into his hand again he pulled across a fresh sheet of paper and began to write again,
`Frodo,
I must first thank you greatly for the broach; it was a wonderful gift, my lad, one I shall treasure for many years to come.`
Yes that seemed the best way to begin the thing, but still he could not think of how to continue, `weather remains fine` would be a suitable next sentence, but so very impersonal that Bilbo could not bring himself to write it. What he needed was a safe topic; one that did not agitate Frodo's unstable sense of mind and yet was personal enough to show Frodo that Bilbo cared.
The shifting of the breeze brought the scent of freshly budding spring flowers into Bilbo's nose and a sudden inspiration struck the hobbit and he began to write again lest it was lost.
`I hope that the flowers about Bag End are growing again, sweeter and stronger than ever before under Sam's watchful gaze. You must tell him that I hope he did not neglect the Forget me nots that grew under my bedroom window, for they were my favourites and it would sadden me to think that he may have replaced them with something of greater beauty. You must recall to him also that summer is the best season for marriage and that when he gets to using that gold of his he must buy a Smaile close to Bag End so that you can visit each other often.
`How are Meriadoc and Peregrine? Still causing you trouble I've no doubt. Please recall to Pippin that I have not forgotten what he told me and that I may yet carry out my threat if it seems to me that he is idling deliberately.`
He paused again; his brow creasing thought for a moment before his eyes caught on the other letter he had received that day.
`Aragorn asked that I might visit him in Gondor for the summer, by my heath being what it is I fear that I must refuse him. I wonder if you would like to go in my stead, a few days from the Shire might do you a little good.
`I am worried about you, about how you must feel trapped in the Shire when you have seen the world beyond. I do not want you to regret the choices you made Frodo and I certainly do not wish you to throw away your life, you are young yet after all. Instead I ask you to recall that all wounds can be healed, if given time and the right medicine.
Bilbo.`
*
Frodo sighed under his breath and tucked the letter back into its envelope, his mind wondering over its contents. The soft footfalls of hobbit feet upon the floorboards drew him out of his revere and up into the deep green of Pippin's eyes.
"Bad news?" The Took enquired as he sat himself onto the chair across from his Cousin.
"No." Frodo replied as his eyes moving towards the empty fireplace.
"So are you going to tell me, or do I have to drag it from you as always?"
"The letter is from Bilbo."
"How is he?"
"As well as ever. He asked that I recall to you that he has not forgotten what you said to him and that he may yet carry out his threat." Frodo said. Pippin blushed to the tips of his pointy ears and turned his head away from the morning glory blue of his cousin's eyes, which had turned upon him suddenly but a moment ago.
"He should have written to tell me that rather than have it passed through a messenger. He knows that I do not wish to talk of such things with others yet, for fear of teasing more than anything else."
"When you feel like enlightening me, Pip, I shall not tease you."
"Thank you, Frodo. Never let it be said that you have anything other than a heart of gold."
"And let it never be said that Peregrine Took has anything other than a silver tongue, for my heart is not golden. Not any longer at least."
"Hear! We'll not travel down that road today, thank you very much. You've been doing far to well of late to fall back into that pit."
"Yes, I have been doing well Pip, it is just…" He paused, his gaze never wavering from Pippin's face. "I miss the Ring, the power it gave me. Ever since it was destroyed I have felt…half alive…as if everything around me has been turned down."
"That was how I felt when I looked into the Palantír, though for me it was more as if I was suddenly very alone in the world."
"Pip, do you ever think about leaving the Shire again? Not permanently, but for a vacation of sorts?"
"Yes I do, on occasions at least. I always stop thinking like that after a while though, the Shire is my home now and though I yearn for adventure, I know that everything I want is here."
"But the Shire is a dream, Pip and dreams do not last forever." Frodo said after a moment of silence. Pippin lent forward slightly in his chair, his green eyes twinkling as the sunlight caught them.
"This is not coming from nowhere is it Frodo? What else did Bilbo say to you in that letter?"
"Aragorn wanted Bilbo to visit him in Gondor this summer, but Bilbo believes his health is not up to it. He suggested that I might go in his stead."
"If you do go Frodo then I shall accompany you. For though I love the Shire, I miss Gondor and Aragorn also. Indeed I have often wished, of late, to gaze upon the white city just one more time." Pippin said.
"I am still not sure if I shall go, Pip, there are so many memories attached to the journey that we would be taking. So much pain…" He trailed and he raised a hand to massage his shoulder, his eyes staring into the middle distance for a moment.
Pippin allowed the silence to wash over him, his mind buzzing with half formed sentences and suggestions. He wished feverishly that Merry were here, for his impulsive Brandybuck Cousin always seemed able to pull Frodo away from these regressions. Unfortunately Merry had been called back to Buckland early due to a family emergency of sorts. Pip had, of course, wished to come for fear that some ill had befallen his dear Uncle or Aunt, but Merry had made him stay,
`Frodo needs one of us to stay with him, Pip. `Was all the explanation he had been given before Merry had left.
"Perhaps the whole thing would be made better by company?" Pip enquired once the silence had grown enough to be stifling. Frodo's eyes focused quickly and a smile appeared on his face,
"Yes, perhaps it would at that. I shall think carefully about it, Pip and I shall let you know when I have made a decision."
*
"He's plottin` something or my name isn't Samwise Gamgee." Sam said as he took another sip from his ale.
"Plottin' or no, Samwise, it's best you let him be. `Master knows best` is what I always say." The Gaffer replied, his voice muffled slightly by the pipe in his mouth.
"Aye and I'd normally be the first to agree with you, but something isn't right. If I didn't know better I'd say he was workin' himself up to leave again."
"A change would do him good, Sam. He's wasting away here in the Shire."
"And I'd be the last one to keep him here if it's doing him ill, it's just…" Sam's voice trailed and his eyes fixed themselves firmly upon his mug. The Gaffer watched his son quietly; there was something on Sam's mind, that much was clear. Something important enough that the lad seemed wary to share whatever it was, for fear of rumours spreading.
He knew, however, that Sam would not keep his confidence much longer, for the lad knew that he could trust his father to keep things quiet and was aware that a problem shared is a problem halved. Indeed Sam's eyes rose again a moment later to catch onto his father's and mere seconds later he began his sentence again.
"I'm fearful that he's going to be leaving and not coming back. Back in Gondor the Lady Arwen mentioned to him that he might cross over the sea to Valinor if he continued to be pained by his wounds."
"There's a simple way to assure yourself that he's coming back, Sam and that's to go with him."
"Aye `tis sensible advice and t'aint nothing I would rather do than keep Master company."
"But?"
"I'm tied Dad, plain and simple."
"Tied? Would ye care to explain how?" The gaffer enquired. Sam blushed then and an irrational fear gripped hard at the Gaffer's heart.
"Well I shouldn't be saying anything 'till everything's been discussed proper like, but I intend to be wedding Rose Cotton by the end of the season." Sam said. The Gaffer set his pipe to one side and stared hard at his son for a moment. He knew that it was not his place to go meddling where he wasn't wished, but he couldn't sit camlet idle on this subject. Not when his ninnyhammer of a son was setting himself up for a fall, least ways.
"Samwise, you know that I have always thought highly of ye and your tendency to drop in on things feet first. Indeed I know that it was that tendency that saved us when we were in that horrible mess with Sharky."
"What are ye getting at, dad?"
"I think it might do you good to take some time thinking about wedding Rose. Have a talk to Mr. Frodo and see what it is he's up to and follow in his tracks if he's moving on again. Your about due for a holiday anyways, lad."
"Do you not approve of my choice, dad, is that what this is about?"
"No, it's not that lad. Rose is the best lass that I could ask for ye to wed. I just don't want you regretting your marriage is all, lad."
"But I won't, dad."
"Humour me?"
"Fine, I'll go and have a talk to Mr. Frodo."
"Thank you, Sam."
*
"And who's going to keep an eye on Bag End while your gone?" Merry enquired, the chide in his voice going altogether un-noticed by Frodo who was carefully packing items into a sack.
"You are just miffed because Frodo won't let you come with us." Pippin supplied as he ducked his head out from the kitchen. Merry attempted to look indignant for a moment, but gave up when he realised that Frodo still wasn't paying him any attention.
"Well what if I am, Pip will cause more trouble that me on the journey and yet you're still taking him."
"Correction, Merry, Pippin will cause trouble if you come with us. On his own he's a very well behaved hobbit." Frodo replied, his eyes never moving from his task. Felling altogether indignant about the cheek and the idea that he would be left out of an adventure that Pippin was going on, Merry decided that now was the time for his trump card.
"What about Sam? I bet your not even going to tell him that you are going are you?" Merry allowed himself to smile smugly as Frodo paused mid-movement, his eyes widening just a fraction.
"I do not wish him to be troubled, Merry. He has enough responsibility with his life here in the Shire, he does not need the extra burden of worry about my life as well." Frodo said after a moment, his hands resuming their movement. Merry winced at the ice in his Cousin's voice and fully aware that he would probably regret ever asking he enquired,
"Have you two had an argument, Frodo?" That got Frodo's attention and a moment later Merry found himself pinned under the fire within Frodo's eyes.
"No we have not had a fight, Meriadoc and even if we had it would be none of your business." Frodo said, the temperature of his voice now practically sub zero. Swallowing and preying for assistance from any God that would listen, Merry said,
"I know that it is not my business, Frodo, but I worry about you. Sam has nothing in his life more important to him than you are, you should know that..."
"That is not true anymore, Merry, things have changed between us. Sam is courting Rose Cotton now and I have to learn to cope without him." Frodo said, interrupting Merry before he could finish his sentence. The Brandybuck wished to argue, wished to tell Frodo that somewhere along the line something must have been misunderstood. It was common Shire knowledge after all, that Samwise Gamgee had eyes for none but Frodo Baggins. There was something in his Cousin's eyes, though, a faint warning light that stayed his objections. Instead he broke out into a false grin and enquired,
"What's for lunch?"
"Fresh mushrooms, Mr. Merry." Sam replied as he entered the living room. Frodo flinched slightly at the gardener's voice and Merry couldn't help noticing the faint blush that painted his Cousin's cheeks.
"Sam, what are you doing here?" Frodo enquired once he had found his voice again.
"I came to drop of these mushrooms, sir." Sam said as he gestured to the basket in his hands, " I knocked, sir, but you didn't hear me seamlessly."
"Yes that is it entirely, Sam, you caught Frodo a bit off guard, I am afraid. But we shall forgive you this time if you will make us something delicious with those mushrooms."
"I'll try my best, Mr. Merry." Sam said, laughter crinkling at the sides of his eyes.
"I will help." Frodo remarked suddenly. Sam nodded in thanks and the pair retreated into the kitchen.
A moment later and Pippin appeared in the living room, an indignant look still upon his food stained face.
"Meddlesome Gamgees." He murmured as he sat himself down.
"It is your own fault, Pip. Merry supplied as he came to sit opposite his Cousin.
"My fault? You're the one who corrupted my innocent mind."
"Innocent? I am not as stupid as Frodo, Pip, plus I have seen the evidence of how `innocent` you can be without me around."
"Bah! You are just jealous that I am going to Gondor and you are not."
"True, but I am also worried, Pip. Something is not altogether right between Frodo and Sam."
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T: Da dah! Part one over and done with. I am already writing chapter two but it's causing me some strife so it might not be up for a while. I'll keep you abreast though folks. Also for those of you who know the book quite well I have a ridiculously fan girlish fact: Tomorrow is march the 13th they very day on which Frodo gets stung by Shelob!