A/N: Here's my very first fic in this account; hurray! This isn't my first LOTR story, but this is the first one that I will post. I'm nervous. But, yeah, enjoy!
--
At length Gandalf rose. 'The hands of the King are hands of healing, dear friends,' he said. 'But you went to the very brink of death ere he recalled you, putting forth all his power, and sent you into the sweet forgetfulness of sleep. And though you have indeed slept long and blessedly, still it is now time to sleep again.'
—Return of the King, Book Six Chapter 4: The Field of Cormallen
--
At last the glad day ended; and when the Sun was gone and the round Moon rode slowly above the mists of Anduin and flickered through the fluttering leaves, Frodo and Sam sat under the whispering trees amid the fragrance of fair Ithilien; and they talked deep into the night with Merry and Pippin and Gandalf, and after a while Legolas and Gimli joined them. There Frodo and Sam learned much of all that had happened to the Company after their fellowship was broken on the evil day at Parth Galen by Rauros Falls; and still there was always more to ask and more to tell.
Frodo felt exhausted, but never felt the urge to lay down and sleep as he watched Pippin and Merry telling their stories with great amount of optimism. Sam was throwing in questions when he got the chance, undeniably interested. Still trying to absorb every events that he had not seen. Gimli and Legolas sat, contented with seeing the Hobbits.
It was comforting, to tell the truth. As Pippin, dear, sweet Pippin, rose and swung his imaginary sword, while Sam laughed. "And how many did I hit? I cannot keep count, but I can tell that I had slain more Orcs than Merry!" hollered Pippin, grinning and laughing and shining in Frodo's eyes. He laughed, too, whilst Merry argued about how it shouldn't matter and that it was a lie. Gandalf's eyes twinkled with joy and satisfaction. Indeed, seeing them this way makes him forget the fear that lingers, and the emptiness inside him.
But as Pippin finally ended his story, Frodo felt an overwhelming throb on his left shoulder. He felt himself fall, and he heard himself cry breathlessly. Suddenly, the laughter died down, and it was replaced by several voices talking altogether. He recognized Sam's voice, calling out his name— the worry in his voice made Frodo squirm. He had worried Sam a lot, and now, he is worrying about his master again. It is unfair. Sam deserved all the peace in the world after what he had done— keeping him safe and all, while he is in the verge of dying himself.
His Sam should've been safe if he did not accompany him. He should have been in the Shire, trying to gain confidence to talk to Rosie, or maybe even confessing his true feelings for her. Not—
Someone was speaking. Someone was speaking. He knew it. But who? And to whom?
"He is alright," said the weary voice above him. Finally, finally, he forced his eyes to open.
Sam was holding his hand, worry etched on his face as he looked at him. Merry and Pippin were there, too, their smiles strained, yet comforting. Gandalf softly beamed at him. Legolas and Gimli were nearby, though not as close as his fellow hobbits and the Istari were.
"Dear Elbereth, Mr. Frodo. You had me frightened there, sir, and I wish for you to not do that, me dear, if you take my meanin'." Sam fussed. Frodo, with the help of Gandalf, sat up, still clutching his shoulder. "What happened?" he asked, looking at the wizard. The Istari's expression was grim.
"It is the wound that the Morgul blade conflicted, my boy. I feared that the pain will haunt you still, and for that I am terribly sorry to forewarn you late." said the wizard.
"My thanks," Frodo started, "for informing me about it, Gandalf! There is no need to apologize. I am utterly fine, I promise." His last sentence was directed to Sam and the others as well.
Feeling his and everyone's relief, Merry smiled. "Hey, Frodo, do you remember how we stole Gandalf's fireworks?"
Pippin beamed, and straightened up. "Yes; that one! It was completely splendid."
"Not if you made everyone panic, Master Pippin, sir." said Sam, grinning.
"What happened, then?" asked Gimli.
"Well, apparently, Merry and I only wanted to see more fireworks." started Pippin. "Gandalf was busy laughing and dancin' with children and all that, and so we found the place where Gandalf stocked all of them." Merry added.
"I can already see where this is heading." said Legolas, smiling.
"And then we lit this one gigantic firework that we found!" Pippin said enthusiastically. "It didn't go as planned, of course, but the results were still fantastic." said Merry.
"And, if I would be taking my guess, I think you destroyed something." Legolas said.
"Well, we sent a tent flying, but everything was fine." replied Merry.
Seeing Gandalf's (false) stern look, Frodo laughed. "Well, it was a beauty, nevertheless. I can still remember it clearly." said Frodo.
Sam chuckled beside Frodo. "Fireworks are always as amazing as they are." said Sam, in which Frodo agreed to.
For the rest of the night, they did not slept. They only laughed and talked, and it was, without a doubt, peaceful. It was only a room full of optimism and warmth, and for Frodo, it was enough.
--
A/NThis is written at 3 AM by none other than me, without food or water or anything, just me staring at my netbook and refusing sleep because I'm such an idiot.
But, yeah, I hope y'all enjoy this little fluffy fic. Have a blessed day!! :)