This one shot is about four different kinds of friendship, and as you will see, it is a story Sam reads to his daughter Elanor.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or settings, and I don't own the direct speech from Book V Chapter 8: The Houses of Healing and Book VI Chapter 3: Mount Doom
The Master and his Servant
Barely could he hear the mutters of his dear friend, for the hisses of the Ring were louder in his ears, like a dreadful storm drowning every other noise. What Sam was saying, Frodo did not know. What the Ring was saying he could guess, for those were the same words, always, in the dark tongue of Mordor, and now that it had found its homeland and its master was so close, it was growing, in size as in might, and Frodo possessed not the strength to withstand its power any longer.
He felt weary, so weary; death was but a short walk away, a light in the dark which he must not approach, though he wished to dearly. But no, as he opened his eyes the light faded, and was replaced by another, stronger yet darker; hotter. Fire. Walls of fire all around him and no escape. And he wept for himself and the world, but no tears were shed, for he had no more and even if, the fire would vaporize them and flames would lick his skin, burn his flesh and at last there would be no choice but to go into the light.
At the same time he wished for that to happen and feared it, but life he dreaded as well; there was no life for him, for certainly he knew that this was not how it was supposed to be, yet he could not recall what it was supposed to be. Frodo despaired, for he could not remember anything worth fighting for; there was nothing but the fire and the Ring around his neck, and pure, utter agony.
How he could hold his body on his knees he could not tell, yet suddenly he was aware of Sam's words, for they were determined and in his voice there was strength, strength that he himself lacked, like a cask which had once been filled to the brim holding but a last puddle of wine.
"Come Mr. Frodo! I can't carry it for you, but I can carry you and it as well! So up you get!"
And Frodo obeyed; with his last power, this last puddle, he rose to place his arms around his gardener's neck, and then feebly he let all his weight fall onto brave Sam's back, whose arms grasped his master's legs and held him there, ere he stumbled to his feet and carried the fordone hobbit and his dark burden to the doom of them all.
For when the master's strength fades his servant must be there to hold him, and when he truly loves him he will be, even in the darkest of times. And thus was the love Sam felt for Frodo, who was far more than merely his master. Frodo was his dearest friend, who loved him in return and saw him, in reverse as well, as far more than a servant. His dear Sam.
The Best of Friends
There he sat on a doorstep, right before Pippin's waking eyes, weeping like one who has lost everything, even the will to live. And yet he was alive, and that mattered most to the young hobbit. His Merry. Brave, old Merry.
And to stop his tears he told him where the Lady Éowyn and her brother, Éomer, now to be crowned king of Rohan, were, though the king Théoden had fallen in battle, and there were no words yet of comfort. Upon seeing his cousin weep his own heart fell, for they could not be as cheerful about their reunion as by rights they should have been; darkness was still looming above their heads, and the shadow of death was hanging heavily in the air. Yet, he reminded himself, at least they were here.
"How glad I am to see you again!", said Pippin, and proceeded not to talk endless hours, as it is common with hobbits, but to ask him about injuries and pain, for weary and mournful the hobbit was for every man that might pass to see, but in his familiar eyes Pippin beheld more than that, and with sorrow he listened to his friend, who could not move his arm anymore. Who seemed as though he would fall senseless unless he was swiftly carried to the Houses of Healing, and confirmed this by telling him that his sight was growing dark again.
"Now I must act fast!", thought Pippin, and had Merry lean on him and tried to encourage him, saying, truthfully, that the way ahead was not a long one.
"Are you going to bury me?" asked Merry, and at the mention of his best friend's possible death Pippin's whole world began to crumble like the walls of Minas Tirith had not long ago, for his heart feared this more than he could put into words.
"No, indeed!" replied the young hobbit, and any attempt to sound cheerful was all but futile, for though the battle was over the war was not, and his Merry, so close now, was slowly fading away, and he, small Pippin, could do nothing but keep walking and hoping that he would not be too late.
Yet when Bergil came, whom the Took was thankful to see alive and well, that spark of hope was brightened, for the lad would send Gandalf to them and then all would turn to good account, the hobbit knew that. So Pippin decided to wait for the wizard and in the sunlight he laid Merry down softly, bedded his friend's head in his lap and held his hands, delighted and amazed that at last they had each other again, and confident that the Brandybuck would recover and that some day they would return to the Shire together, hand in hand, laughing.
For true friendship overcomes all evil times, and though people, and hobbits, mind you, may change, their feelings for one another, if strong enough, never intrinsically do, and the friendship that bound Merry to Pippin was one of that kind, and lived through good and bad times, and brightened the smile on their faces when the sun shone upon them.
The Rivals turned Friends
How could it be told how fair the Golden Wood, realm of the marvelous Lady of Lothlórien, was? There was no word in the tongue of men, Elves or Dwarves to do them justice. Or Gimli knew none, and when he asked Legolas neither did he. All beauty of the gold under the mountains, even that of Erebor, paled in comparison to the leaves on the trees, and above all to the hair of Galadriel, fairest of all beings, of all who dwelt in Middle Earth. Her loveliness exceeded even that of the Lady Arwen of Rivendell, the Evenstar of the Elves. At least to Gimli's eyes it did. And to him it seemed wondrous, for never had he beheld any other beauty than that of the gems beneath the mountains, but though it was dear to his heart his memory began to fade beneath her roof of golden leaves.
Legolas wandered far into the forest, and never did he stray, for he appeared to know the woods of Lórien like he knew his own home, dark Mirkwood. And he saw the eyes of the proud Dwarf wide with wonder with a smile. "Thus is the magic of the Golden Wood", the Elf said to himself, for he thought Gimli too far in dreams to perceive any sound beside the whistling of the wind and the rustling of the leaves it touched.
Yet he was not. "Yea, there is magic at work in this forest. But it is not evil."
"Nay, no evil is to be found in Lothlórien, where the Lady of the Light dwells to this day", answered Legolas. "For her power is yet too great. Alas! it shall not remain so if the quest fails."
"The quest! Too simple is it to forget about our doom here, where no harm is near and time seems to wear on as fast as mountains grow! Here I could stay, if it was not for the oath I have taken and if the days were lighter."
The Elf laughed merrily. "Never would I have thought to hear these words from you, Gimli, son of Glóin! But I am glad that you have made your peace with my people here in Lothlórien, dwelling of Celeborn and Galadriel and the Wood-elves, who are my kin."
"Made peace with them I have indeed!", exclaimed the Dwarf. "And I shall never think of Elves as I have again! The more so because I have found friends in their kind. Above all one."
And with affection and awe he looked at Legolas, and was astounded to find the same emotions in the Elf's eyes, who was smiling kindly. "As I have found a friend in a Dwarf, who is more brave and faithful than I could have hoped for."
Thus it was spoken, a friendship between Elf and Dwarf, which had been seldom heard of before, yet neither of them thought about this or cared, and if they had it would have filled them with pride, for both were thankful for each other, which is far more valuable than all the gems and gold of the Dwarves and all fair dwellings of the Elves added together.
The Equals
"You are the only one I shall trust with a matter of this importance, and it is of great importance, as you will find," Gandalf told the ranger, concern though may have been on his wrinkled face then.
"I understand this, yet I am worried that the faith you have put in me and my abilities may be vainly given." Aragorn stood and bowed to the wizard. "Nevertheless shall I not stop ere I have found him, and I shall not tire."
"My friend," said Gandalf, and a twinkle was in his keen eyes, "A wizard does not gift a man with friendship and trust haphazardly. And you are no mere man. You are Isildur's heir, heir to him who cut the Ring of Power from Sauron's hand and kept it, and you will find the one who has born it after and for many long years."
"However," sighed the wizard, "I must once again remind you that this is the last piece missing, and that my desire to find Gollum is as great as the significance of this task, for I have questions that only he can answer. And he will not be easily caught, for he is swift as a shadow and cunning as a fox, and he knows the paths of Middle Earth well, perhaps better than even you do, Aragorn, son of Arathorn. So beware!"
And with that he left the ranger and they did not meet again until much later in Mirkwood, where by then Gollum would be the Elvenking Thranduil's prisoner. But this day Aragorn stood for a while, and thought of Isildur and his weakness, and of the creature he was about to search for, which had befallen a worse fate; he did not know how Gollum had come by the Ring, and he did not know how many years it had maimed his heart, but even so, though he seemed a gruesome creature to the ranger, he did pity him.
Last, as he embarked on a journey both long and perilous, he thought of Gandalf, whose purpose was the same as his own, who was wise and mighty, who saw more in him than a mere ranger; who saw in him the heir to the throne of Gondor, though Aragorn himself could not often see this. Gandalf, who was his friend and ally, and he valued both almost more than the friendship of Elves and his fellow rangers, yet but almost.
Thus was their friendship, and remained it, for they held the same respect for one another, and what Gandalf saw in Aragorn would come to pass, for he would reclaim the throne of Gondor and kingship and it would bind them even when the wizard, whose counsel would no longer be needed after the defeat of Sauron, the purpose which had first brought them together, would sail into the west.
And however different these four friendships might have been, they had three things in common, and those were love, trust and the fortitude which bound them, and so it mattered less to them why they were friends than that they were, and that is as it should be, always keep that in mind," Sam finished, and kissed his daughter's cheek, closing the book on his lap.
"And now go outside, play with your friends," he said and smiled at the small girl who was already, at a very young age, so pretty with her red cheeks and golden curls.
"But how do I know if they are friends like those in the story?" Big eyes looked up at him questioningly, and Sam laughed merrily, for she was as inquisitive as his master had been and reminded him of Frodo in more than one way.
"You will know," answered he, and gave her a nudge out of the door, where the sunlight and green hills of the Shire were waiting and with a quick glance back at her father, Elanor stepped outside and disappeared from his sight not long after, but he knew she was not far, and that she was safe. And he also knew that it was thanks to these friendships, and others. "And that", he said to himself, "is a beautiful thought on a beautiful day."
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