Important disclaimer.
Alright, before people start throwing things at me let's get one thing straight.
I love Samwise, exactly the way he is, and the dynamics of all his relationships. Also, even if given the chance, I wouldn't change one single detail of either the books or the films. I'm just having fun. Just one of those "What if…?" Thingamabobs. I also don't really have anything against slash fanfics; personally, they just don't do it for me.
I did not come up with this idea on my own: I read another fanfic called "The Baths", by EithneCeana. I fell in love with the concept. (Warning; if you plan to read it, it's a lemon ficlet.)
Softness. That was the first thing she was aware of, surrounding softness. No sounds, no smells, no sights, just warm soft, mellow darkness.
The last thing she remembered was heat: Not just warm-summer- afternoon heat, but scorching winds, mountain ash searing her lungs, where the air itself scalded and burned. She remembered being surrounded by molten rock and thinking that this was surely, truly, the end.
They were both going to die. After everything.
But Frodo did it.
He was free. All of Middle Earth was free from the shadow cast over it for countless lifetimes.
Sadly the two of them would not see it. They would not see their friends sing in joy and the darkness flee. And yet, there were worse ways to go, all things considered, than dying whilst you cling to your dearest friend.
I'm glad you're with me Sam… here at the end of all things.
She was glad too.
She was glad that Gandalf caught her eavesdropping and insisted she accompany the master of Bag End on his dangerous journey, neither of them realizing just how perilous and intense it would become. She was glad to be there when he needed rescuing, first from the Nazgul, then from the spider, then from Cirith Ungol.
She was glad to keep him from dying alone on the slope of Mount Doom.
For he had surely died as well. An oliphaunt couldn't have survived such circumstances, let alone two weary little hobbits.
She would miss everyone, and they would miss her and Frodo, but they were free. And that was all that mattered.
While she was here, she might as well open her eyes and see what the afterlife looked like.
It took more effort than she expected, and the first thing that clouded into her vision was whiteness. It was so bright she had to close her eyes again.
At that moment, she became aware of the certain, comfortably familiar smell of pipe-weed.
Did folk have access to pipes and pipe-weed in the afterlife?
She managed to crack her lids open in increments, adjusting them to the soft white of her surroundings. Her vision blurred then cleared, wandering around, taking in what she could.
She fallowed the direction of the smoke, her gaze catching a surprisingly dark figure, large and slouched in a chair beside the bead on which she lay. Her vision grew clearer and she saw the person sitting in what appeared to be thoughtful silence, puffing intermittently on the pipe, unaware that she was awake.
The face looked familiar; like someone she had not seen in quite some time.
"Strider?"
Her voice came in a faint rasp. Yet he heard, and surprised, he turned to her, pulling the pipe from his smiling mouth. "Good Marrow, Samantha Gamgee! It's so good to see you awake!"
Her spirits fell. "You're here too?" She asked. Not that she wasn't glad to see him again, but in the circumstances…
"That I am." He looked amused by her question. "Though, you don't seem pleased about it."
Sam opened her mouth to say that of course she wasn't pleased that he was here and dead, but then the wheels turned in her head. She noted his words and actions, she remembered the bleariness of her eyes, and realized the aches and stiffness of her joints.
She was under the assumption that the hereafter was a place free of all pains and ails. Of course, it wasn't like anyone had gone there then come back to report it.
She finally asked. "Aragorn, where exactly are we?"
He smiled warmly and pressed her hand with his much larger one. "We are in Minas Tirith, Mistress Hobbit."
Her jaw went slack. "The White City?"
"Yes. Did you think you had passed on, Miss Gamgee?"
"Well, begging your pardon Aragorn sir, but it would've taken nothing short of a miracle to save me and…"
She gasped, eyes wide, bolted upright. "Frodo! I almost forgot! Where is he?!"
The ranger quickly placed his pipe on the bedside table and leaned forward to place both hands gently but firmly on her shoulders to hold her in place. "Be at ease Mistress Hobbit: Frodo is nearby, alive and well and resting." He assured.
Giving a gusty sigh of relief she lay back. "Oh, thank heavens." She murmured. "I was so sure we were both goners." She lifted her head, the obvious question finally striking her. "How are we alive in the first place?"
He smiled again. "As you said, it took a miracle: The King of the Eagles, who has helped Gandalf in many times of need, was sent with one of his subjects to find you both when the mountain erupted. They both returned with one hobbit each."
"Eagles!" She shook her head. "Just like what happened to Master Bilbo! I would've liked to see that. And I slept right through it!"
"It was a sight." Aragorn concurred. His face grew somber. "You were both in need of healing, but our dear Frodo was in worse condition than you. He was weak from undernourishment, and his left forefinger was severed at the middle joint." The look he gave Sam indicated that he suspected all too well what caused this injury.
She lowered her gaze into her lap, staring bleakly at her folded hands. The memory of perhaps the worst moment in her life bringing a heavy coldness in her stomach.
"It had him" She stated.
There was only understanding silence at Strider's end, so she continued.
"He was in its thrall: completely and utterly…" She shook her head as if to dissipate the images that would surely haunt her, of his words spoken in a menacing voice, of the dark smile and cold stare he gave her as he slipped the ring on his finger.
"He was going to keep it, Strider! He actually put it on and tried to sneak away from me like a thief! For a few minutes the Frodo Baggins I'd known for years was gone! Why, I don't know where we'd be had that wretched creature Gollum… not… come and…" She trailed off, realization coming clear and bright.
She was silent for a moment, then to Aragorn's great puzzlement, the little she-hobbit suddenly burst into hysterical laughter.
It took a moment for her to form words. "He did it: That thing saved all of Middle Earth! He wanted the ring and bit Frodo's finger clean off to get it!" She laughed again.
"This amuses you?"
"Not so much as… oh goodness! Frodo wanted … tried… to give the miserable creature another chance, and I was so bullheaded about him being a great big liar. And here I am… alive because he fell into the fires of Mount Doom and took the bloomin' ring with him!"
"I wondered what became of Gollum." Aragorn nodded, once her laughter dissipated. "He'd been following us before we disbanded."
Sam sighed, then asked. "Who sent the eagles in the first place?"
"Gandalf did. He's probably with Frodo as we speak."
She blinked, giving a start. "Did I mishear you… or did you say…?'
"That's right!" Aragorn remembered. "You didn't know."
"Know what?" Excitement rose in her chest.
"Gandalf is alive, and more powerful than ever before." The ranger beamed.
Her jaw practically fell to her lap. "But… but we saw him fall to his death!"
"No." Strider corrected gently. "We merely saw him fall."
Happy tears threatened to spill, more laughter coming from her mouth. "This is too good to be true: All of this!"
Aragorn only smiled in agreement.
Frodo did not expect to awake, much less to the sight of an old and very dear friend, one he thought he'd lost.
His first thoughts were that this was impossible.
Gandalf was dead. But then wasn't he?
Then the door burst open and his two cousins came bounding in, very much alive and happy to see him.
He was smothered in the hugs of his kin, warmed by the bright gaze of Gandalf, and there was more to come.
He watched with relief as Gimli, Legolas, then Aragorn stepped in, their grins heavy with gratitude.
His joy and love for his friends washed over him. But where was…?
Finally, a small figure stepped quietly in. A feminine figure, looking tired, freckled face raw from the scorching winds, yet she smiled when he met her gaze.
Warm gratitude and affection joined the plethora of emotions.
All was well.
"Wait: you mean she carried you all the way up the mountain?!"
"Well, not all the way, but still…"
"I could only do it because you'd had nothing to eat for days and were naught but skin and bones!"
Once Frodo had regained enough strength for visits, the four hobbits gathered and exchanged their tales of what happened to them after their separation. It was currently his and Sam's turn and he was getting to the part about reaching the fires of the volcano.
"Still," Merry put in. "Not many a lass can claim to hoist a fellow up onto her shoulders and carry him a ways up a mountain." He nodded to Sam in admiration.
Humble soul that she was, Sam only flushed and said. "Well, I think Eowyn might've done such a thing." This earned a chuckle from the others. She and Frodo had shortly been introduced to the lady of Rohan, among many others; both took an instant liking to her, and vice-versa.
"Perhaps." Frodo said with a smile that seemed almost playful. "But would she have rescued someone from a ravenous, oliphaunt-sized spider?"
"It wasn't that big."
"It was big enough."
"Eowyn killed the Witch-King! I just stabbed an overgrown arachnid; didn't even kill the beast."
"Had you not driven it off," He countered, "The One Ring and I would now be in its belly."
"Eeeucchh!" Pippin shuddered at the thought.
The two of them continued, back and forth, in their own accounts of the story, finally ending with Gollum biting the ring of Frodo's finger and falling in the fire, the two hobbits just barely escaping with their hair singed.
Merry and Pippin's eyes went to and fro between them, looking at whoever was speaking. It seemed that every other sentence was to praise the other, only for the receiver to deny that they were so special and insisting that the other was far more courageous. They laughed over the more amusing memories or shared jokes, and there were moments when they seemed to forget that they had an audience instead of just the two of them.
At some point, Merry and Pippin glanced at each other out of the corners of their eyes, and exchanged knowing smirks.
Aragorn was crowned at the end of the month. A Gondor coronation was quite an event.
The four hobbits were given new clothes in the colors and manner of shire folk, but in far finer material than either had worn before. Sam made the others laugh when she commented on how nice it was to be wearing a dress again, having traded the one she wore on departing from the Shire with more functional trousers and a shirt before leaving Rivendale.
During The feasts and fanfare, Frodo would catch glimpses of Aragorn and Arwen, seeing the open adoration for each other made him feel glad for his friend, and also a little wistful.
As the festivities continued the rest of the day, Sam and Frodo hardly left each other's side. Like the earth and the moon, one always orbited the other, never straying too far for too long. This little detail did not go unnoticed by their friends. In fact, while talking with Gimli, the dwarf gave a chuckle out of nowhere.
"Isn't it a thing of beauty?" He said.
"What is?" Frodo asked.
Gimli motioned to the two of them. "The fact that you two aren't sick and tired of each other: nothing short of a little miracle, if you ask me."
For some reason, Frodo felt heat rise to his face, and a glance at his female companion saw that she had an uncomfortable expression.
"What… what's so incredible about that? It's not as though you're sick of Legolas and Strider." Samantha pointed out in an unsteady voice.
"Don't be too sure of that Lass." The dwarf guffawed. "'Sides, we're not acting like we're tied together with an invisible thread, unlike you and Master Baggins."
Sam adopted the expression of a little hobbit child caught with its hand in the cookie jar. "I…" she ducked her head and headed off to her left, muttering, "I think I forgot something…". Frodo and Gimli watched in bewilderment as she disappeared into the crowd of big folk.
"Did I say something stupid?' Gimli asked "Didn't mean to offend the wee lass."
Frodo wasn't sure what to say. "I'm certain it's nothing."
Frodo decided that Sam probably wanted breathing space, so decided to let her alone for a while. He walked around, talking to the curious citizens of Gondor who'd heard so much about him, meeting up with those he knew and exchanging a word or joke.
After an hour, he felt the need for some quiet, so he ducked into an arbor, walking along the dappled moonlight with his hands stuffed into his pockets and enjoying the pleasant scent of leaves growing.
His right hand automatically felt around the pocket, and its emptiness brought a tiny brief swell of panic.
No. he reminded himself. It's gone. You don't want it back. You don't.
But in spite of his attempts to convince himself otherwise, he knew deep in his heart that he did want it back. In spite of all it had done to him, even looking back on the twisted perversion of his former self he had almost become in such short time, a part of him felt empty without it, feeling naked without the circlet of gold.
It was done with, but its affects were not.
His reverie was broken by a soft and familiar voice.
The Lady Arwen was nearby, speaking earnestly to someone. For a moment he assumed, based on the location that she was having a private moment with Aragorn and he was prepared to leave. But her tone and inflection was not one of romantic intimacy, but simple conversation.
Curiosity prickled him and he fallowed the sound down the corridor of stone and vine.
He turned a corner and saw the elf maid seated a few yards away on a stone bench, speaking to the one person he'd been trying not to think about for the last hour or so.
But, heavens, she looked so endearing at this moment.
In spite of all the things they'd seen, and all the elves they'd met, including this one, Sam remained utterly fascinated and captivated by the luminous beings. Though Frodo couldn't hear quite what the princess was saying, Sam listened, eyes wide and shining, hanging on to every word, like the hobbit children did whenever Bilbo would tell them about this adventure.
He was unable to stop the smile growing on his face, or the warm swell of affection in his chest. Seeing the two women together, side-by-side, proved something he'd already secretly suspected for several months now: Samantha Gamgee was every bit as lovely as the Elvish maiden. But in vastly different ways.
Arwen's beauty was both subtle and arresting, immediate, like moonlight. Sam's was one that you did not notice immediately, but had to observe and spend time with her to see, and Frodo had spent plenty of time. Sam's loveliness was like the sun shining through autumn leaves.
It reminded him of home. It reminded him of the Shire.
Many things about Sam reminded him of the Shire, when he thought of it. Not merely because she was a hobbit like himself, but little details made him think of the things he missed. Her blond hair reminded him of the grain that sprouted from the soil in years past, her faint freckles reminded him of the stars he used to gaze up at while lounging in the grass on summer evenings, her brown eyes harkened to the rich soil where the hobbits of countless generations had grown their food. But the thing he liked the most about her appearance was the set of her mouth, a feature that was unique and completely her.
He only wished he could have noticed all this much sooner.
Soon though, a smile curled at the corners of Arwen's mouth and she slowly turned to look at him, as if she'd known he would be there, and he almost smacked a hand to his forehead for forgetting that her elf's-hearing meant she probably heard him coming before he knew the two of them were there.
Sam craned her neck to see him. He almost expected her to shuffle away like she had earlier, but was relieved when she instead gave him that little lopsided grin and spoke in a teasing voice, "Are we at the point of spyin' now, Mister Frodo?"
He smiled back at them both. "Forgive me dear ladies; I didn't mean to intrude. I was walking along and heard the Lady Arwen's voice."
"Samantha and I were just telling each other of our childhoods." The princess said. "I was recalling a joke my brother Elladan played as a child at the expense of my father's counselor, Erestor."
The idea that lofty and dignified elves played jokes like Merry and Pippin, even as children, was an odd one to him.
"But I am afraid I must be off and bid you both good evening." The elven maid rose, giving the she-hobbit one more smile. "I will finish my story at some future time, if you wish to hear the end."
"Oh of course! I'd like nothing better, your Ladyship!" Sam piped.
Arwen nodded to them both and whisked away. Sam gave a distant sigh.
"I feel so tiny compared to the likes of her." She said with a faraway smile. "Like a mouse standing beside a swan. And you know something? I don't mind it one bit."
Frodo hopped onto the bench beside her. "You've always had a humble spirit." He told her.
Sam brushed some dust from her green skirt. "I'm sorry for just taking off like I did, earlier. Something about what Gimli said made me feel… I don't know…."
"I felt it too." Frodo assured her. "Uncomfortable is the best sort of description I can give it."
Her eyebrows crinkled together in concern, mouth pursed slightly in the way he'd grown to love. "I didn't upset him, did I?"
"He was more worried about upsetting you." He informed the lass. "He always becomes a perfect gentleman whenever a lady is concerned."
"Bless him." She responded.
He shot her a grin. "Your problem, Samantha, is that you're sometimes too tenderhearted for your own good."
"I can be rude when the situation calls for it." Sam retorted crossing her arms. "Remember when we left Bree?"
"Ah yes." He nodded with a chuckle. "You threw your half-eaten apple at that Bill Ferny bloke when he was jeering at us and hit him right square in the nose. Quite surprised me, if you must know."
"I'm a bit ashamed of it though." She admitted.
"Truly?"
She nodded. "Waste of a perfectly good apple, it was."
Frodo laughed at that. Sam felt happy that he was receiving some much needed mirth.
"If you want the truth," he told her. "A part of me was cheering you, and wishing I had the gumption to do something of that kind."
"Ah, well, perhaps next time."
"So," he began. "You and the Lady Arwen seem to have become fast friends."
The lady hobbit blushed. "I can't be too sure 'bout that; like as not she's just being polite and gracious to a star-struck little halfling."
"Nonsense! I'm sure she found you quite enchanting." He certainly did.
"Well, she had the most interesting girlhood." Sam continued. "For example, the day she was born…"
Frodo didn't really listen to the story. Not that he didn't find Arwen's life interesting, but because he found the speaker even more captivating. He watched, as Sam became engrossed in the retelling, her russet eyes shining like stars reflecting off of the surface of coffee. (Being a hobbit, his thoughts would inevitably turn to things edible) Her strong, calloused hands moved to add emphasis, hands that had known work and hardship and clasped his own when he needed support. Her hair was pinned up, but a few curls still danced over her brow and behind her ears.
Yes. She was utterly captivating, and didn't even realize it.
Sam was certainly feeling more comfortable. She'd felt very silly about just running off when Gimli made a comment that made her feel as if she had been caught doing something, but some time away had cleared her head, and she had the added benefit of seeing Elrond's daughter face to face and having a proper girl-to-girl visit.
But at some point, she stopped talking when she noticed the way Frodo was looking at her.
He had an undeterminable expression, lips curved into a gentle smile, blue eyes softly glowing. His expression was a soft one, and yet there was something intense and revealing about his gaze, so much so that, for the first time in goodness-knows-when, she was unable to meet his gaze.
He felt a small trill when she paused, saw him staring, then ducked her head, glancing at him with a light flush appearing beneath her freckles. "What…what are you looking at me like that for?" She stammered quietly.
"Like what?" he asked softly.
All moon-struck and starry-eyed; like Aragorn looks at Arwen. Like Faramir's been looking at Eowyn. But what she ended up saying was, "Almost like Gollum looked at the Ring."
Immediately, she mentally kicked herself. That was the worst possible thing to say, especially this soon after the fact. And sure enough, Frodo's smile dropped a fraction and a shadow passed over his handsome features.
But it only lasted for a moment, and when he saw her wince at her blunder, he gave her a reassuring smile and gently grasped her hands. "It's alright: I know what you meant."
His thumb grazed over the top of her hand. "Perhaps," He chose his words carefully. "All people look a similar way when they gaze upon that which they hold most precious to them." She didn't seem to get his double meaning, so he continued.
"But unlike Sméagol, I've taken my treasure for granted time and time again." He gave her a meaningful look, brushed aside a curl hanging over her ear, and her eyes started to widen with realization.
"I don't deserve this beautiful gem that is most dear to me in this world, but all I want now is to keep it safe from all harm, and let everyone know what it means to me."
Sam's mind was running around in circles, trying to convince herself she was hearing what it sounded like she was hearing, and trying to understand his words, but all thought came to a halt when she realized he was leaning closer. Or was she the one leaning closer?
He moved cautiously, afraid of frightening her off and ruining everything. He saw surprise flicker before her eyes fluttered close. There was no room for misinterpretation. He breathed her name in a voice that was barely audible. Eyes closing, he slid his nose next to hers…
But stopped there, leaving the final decision up to her.
Immediately, Sam closed the hair's-breadth distance and slanted her lips over his own.
Neither could remember a time when so many strong emotions flowed so freely. Silent, miniature fireworks exploding behind their eyelids, stomachs and chests fluttering as if whole flocks of tiny birds were trapped inside, and the single realization settling and illuminating from within:
I love you.
They remained for a good few minutes before parting, exchanging shy smiles.
"Samantha Gamgee," Frodo began. "I want to promise you something."
"What is that?" She could barely speak, trying not to break into giddy laughter.
"I promise to never take anything you do for granted ever again." He declared.
A giggle slipped out, and he pressed another soft kiss to her brow.
"I don't know what to say…" She murmured.
"You don't have to say anything." Frodo assured. He gave a sigh. "You are too good to me, though there is no way I will ever be able to repay you for all that you've done."
"Perhaps not." She conceded, then gently grasped his chin and brushed her thumb along his lower lip. "But you're making a fine start."
As you may have guessed, I took elements from both the books and the films. And, yes, Sam actually does throw an apple at a rotten person in the book.