*Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien, not me.
Explanation: I based this story on the LotR movies, not the books; except I based the way Rosie looks on the books (because really hobbits aren't supposed to have blond hair :) ). The reason I didn't give names of other characters is because I thought it simplified it a little. Also, this started out as a poem, which is why the line breaks are sometimes at weird places.
Anyway, I really hope you like it, this is my first finished fanfic so reviews would be highly appreciated. Thanks!
Sam & Rosie
She mostly passes by him without noticing him watching her,
an old childhood friend.
He sets down his mug as she trips along by his table.
She turns at the slight thump. "Hello, Sam."
He melts…right into a nervous puddle. Why isn't his best friend here when he needs him? "Hello, Rose." He blushes as his voice cracks.
She gives him a polite smile, then continues towards another one of the tables…where she sits down across from a- Sam can't help but notice- very good-looking guy. The two are almost instantaneously immersed in conversation.
Sam sinks back down into his seat and his drink, watching Rosie.
He had sort of hoped she would see him leaving and stand up to say good-bye. After all, once upon a time they were friends.
But no such luck. The years long past- spent wading in the clear pools, and with her small, gentle fingers braiding meadow flowers into his curls, and exploring the woods with her and her brothers- they seem to be gone.
And Sam kicks a pebble across the dusty road. She has grown up and left him behind. He has watched her go from a bright, carefree girl to a sweet, dedicated woman. She is something he, a gardener, could never hope to reach.
What he does reach is his front door,
handle worn from frequent use,
hinges rusted and squeaky,
and covered and surrounded on every side by vines and buds and leaves and flowers, flowers, flowers.
You see his father is a gardener too.
Sam grew up in a big family- six children. But really, for where he lives that's not so unusual.
Now he has one sister left; all the others have gone away or gotten married. All it is is Sam and Mari. Who, ironically, is a good friend of Rosie's.
Mari is at home when Sam walks in. She knows exactly what he has been up to and has made tea for him. Which was nice of her, and it helps his headache.
Days pass, just like they always do. Late summer begins to descend into fall. Winds change, and grow sharper.
For a long time Sam is caught up in his gardens. It's sort of a welcome break, but sometimes Rosie walks past his house or one of the gardens he is helping his father in and he finds himself very distracted. He looks after her until she is out of sight and his father nudges him and he attempts to get back to work.
She smiles at him when she sees him, and that's quite a bit because Marigold invites her over to their house a lot, but Sam has seen Rosie with other guys, and they obviously like her.
Rosie seems oblivious.
Sam isn't exactly sure how he feels about all of it.
But now he has something else to take his mind off her. His best friend's cousin is throwing a huge birthday party, and since the best friend's birthday is on the same day, it's going to be for both of them. Sam volunteered to help out.
It's enormous. Everyone for miles around is invited, and coming. Luckily, the cousin is pretty loaded.
Sam decides to stay home that night. He wants to avoid seeing Rosie, because his tongue ties itself in knots and he tends to turn red and feel like he's about to pass out when she's around. Especially if she actually talks to him or something.
His best friend is having none of it. "You're coming to the party, Sam."
So on the night of the party Sam finds himself trekking down the hill that overlooks the party field.
On one end there is a huge tree, hung with paper lanterns.
Throughout the rest of the field there are scattered people and people and tents and tents and tents. Mostly containing food.
And where there aren't tents, the people are dancing.
Sam actually isn't that bad at dancing, but the only person he has ever danced with is his sister.
His best friend is a bit of a flirt. He pulls Sam behind him as he heads over to one of the tents and launches into a conversation with some girl Sam doesn't know. Sam stands awkwardly beside them, shifting from foot to foot, leaning against a tent pole.
Eventually the girl leaves and the best friend proceeds to go start dancing. Sam sits at a table and watches the partygoers, and of course, there's Rosie.
Sam thinks he's never seen her so pretty. She let her sandy curls, usually pulled up, tumble down over her shoulders. She braided a dozen pale ribbons into her hair.
Most of all, she is alone. The other guys who have been with her so often lately are nowhere to be seen.
Huh, thinks Sam, and is about to go get something to drink (why bother sitting there and hoping he catches her attention?) when his best friend bounces over. "Go dance with her, Sam!"
"Uh, no, that's okay-" Sam protests, but his best friend drags him away from the table and pushes him into Rosie's arms. Sam just about dies.
Genial Rosie isn't even flustered. She takes one of his hands and places her other one on his shoulder. He hesitantly puts his other hand against her waist.
His best friend takes Sam's place at the table and his blue eyes follow the pair as they dance uneven, looping circles to the music. The best friend's delighted grin reaches from ear to ear.
By the end of his life, Sam will have seen many magical things
but he will always remember that night as the most magical of them all. Even after the song ends and Rosie gives his hand a squeeze and lets go, he is in a wonderful daze. And it stays that way until he climbs into bed that night, a tiny happy smile on his face.
But for his best friend, that night is less happy and more confusing, and a month or so later Sam finds himself following his friend away from the town where they grew up, away from everything familiar and understandable. He is thrust into an adventure, and he and his best friend travel miles and miles and miles.
But that adventure is another story altogether.
Rosie meanwhile is having a difficult time. She has been thinking of Sam increasingly often. Not in a romantic way. But she wonders how their friendship dissipated. Was it her fault? No, not really. It was on both sides. They just grew up, and things changed. But Rosie feels guilty. She remembers how much she liked him when they were kids.
He had come to the inn where she worked, with his best friend, the night before he left.
Rosie had decided since he was so shy, it was up to her to make them friends again.
"Hi, Sam. How are you?"
Sam just stared up at her for an awkward moment before his best friend elbowed him. Sam blinked. "Oh…um, I'm good, how are you?"
"Fine, thank you." She smiled. He managed a crooked smile back.
Then she was called away to another table, and when she had another free moment Sam was leaving.
"Bye!" She called after him, and if he replied, she didn't hear it, because she was distracted by another out-going customer. Fantastic, she thought, annoyed.
And then he was gone.
"He just stopped by to say he was going away for a while, and then he left," Mari told her upon an inquisitory visit.
"Why?"
"Had some business with his friend." Marigold shrugged. "His friends are sure strange ones."
Rosie watches out her window at every opportunity for the next couple months, hoping to see him walk by, and she visits Mari noticeably more often, hoping for the news that he is on his way home.
But he never is.
Months move slowly by. The winter never gets too cold in that area, but to Rosie it is like the North Pole. She still has her routine, her friends, a job she loves, but there is something missing.
Someone missing, actually, but she hasn't quite figured that out yet. All she knows is that part of her heart is empty.
On a cool evening late in March she sits before her fireplace, wrapped up in a blanket, reminiscing. She thinks about Sam, and her other childhood friends, and Sam, and a childhood escapade involving a bunch of mushrooms, and Sam, and Sam's best friend, and Sam, and Sam's best friend's friends (who had also been part of the escapade involving a bunch of mushrooms), and Sam. And she falls asleep with him on her mind.
There are two things that can happen when someone goes away: forgetting and remembering.
Rosie remembered.
In a distant place, close to death and bereft of hope, Sam thinks of her too. And there is a tiny spark that is lit in his heart, and it gives him the one last ounce of strength he needs.
There are two things that can happen when you go away: forgetting and remembering.
Sam remembered.
Nearly six months later, Sam and his best friend and the two others that went with them
return home.
Their adventure has battered them: their souvenirs are eternal injuries and scars. But their battle is over, and they have been victorious.
It's humbling, after all they have done, to return home and realize that so many people have no idea. They are followed by curious eyes, questioning glances.
Sam ignores them. He only sees the familiar hills and trees, the gardens…he is home. He is home.
But there's one thing left.
They go to Rosie's inn: coincidentally, because it's the one place everyone agrees on.
Sure enough, there's Rosie wiping down the front counter…
Sam's breath catches, and he is almost bowled over by how much he is in love with this girl. He hadn't even realized the extent.
His eyes glued to her, he slides onto a bench at one of the tables. The four companions look between each other for a moment, the past year running through their minds.
Sam glances back to Rosie, and to his surprise he finds she is staring at him.
She beams, and Sam makes his decision.
His best friend knows at the same time Sam does. He squeezes Sam's shoulder; then, as Sam determinedly gets up from the table, the best friend leans back and breaks into a huge smile, watching the one who has gone to the end of all things with him finally follow his heart to where it belongs.
Sam presses his hands to the counter, his knuckles white. In contrast, his face has turned scarlet up to his ears.
Rosie could not believe her eyes when he walked through the door of the inn, and she can't believe them now, when he is standing here before her.
Sam checks surreptitiously to make sure she hasn't acquired a wedding ring in the past year.
No, she hasn't, he notes with relief.
He looks into the eyes of the love of his life. "Rose, I have to ask you something."
She nods, returning his gaze.
"Will you…" he hesitates, then he forces his voice to be steady. "Rosie, will you marry me?"
Rosie's heart leaps. For a second she cannot speak. She throws her arms around his neck, awkwardly because she has to lean all the way over the counter, but she doesn't mind. She presses her lips against his ear, whispering past his tangled curls.
Yes.
THE END
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