Title: He Watches
Author: Krissy
Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien.
Author's Notes: This is set in the movie 'verse. During the scene where they stop to rest, just before the Crebain attack, after they left Rivendell. Just note, I don't have much knowledge of anything that is book related. Just bits and pieces. :D
Dedication: To Dana and Hope-you two rock. :)
Pairing: Sam/Frodo, Frodo/Boromir (both one-sided)
Rating: PG
Sam wasn't very good with prose, or even words in general. It was like being lost and not being able to find your way back, but in his case -- it was just losing himself in descriptions he didn't quite grasp. He understood simple things, like 'his eyes were clouded from the midmorning sun.' That he got. He knew what the sun looked like and he also knew what Mr. Frodo's eyes looked like. It was an easy image, just blended together.
The sun was hot on his back as he clambered to his feet, telling Frodo, "I'll get our food, sir."
But Frodo wasn't listening. Sam barely heard the "Alright." he got in response. He gazed at the older hobbit in concern. It wasn't like Frodo to barely pay attention to him, not when they were just conversing on the different flowers they'd plant when they returned home. He followed Frodo's hypnotizing gaze.
He was watching Boromir, Pippin, and Merry.
It wasn't an unusual sight, to see Frodo studying the others in the Fellowship. After all, it was his job to protect the ring, even from them. Frodo had told him of his concerns of the two men a few nights ago. They hardly knew them, and they were to trust them? His hands were twisted together, wringing his fingers, and Sam had told him to stop.
'Stop what?'
'Fretting, you're making yourself sick with worry. We have a long journey, Mr. Frodo, sir, so please just sleep.'
'You worry about me too much, Samwise Gamgee.' Frodo laughed. There had been a lengthy pause, 'Who worries for you, Sam?' The full moon was bright, and his hair gleamed like raven birds caught in sunlight. It was a magical moment, and a magical night. His words were bright in his voice, as he said,
'I don't need anyone to worry for me, Mr. Frodo.'
Frodo then rolled over, whispering, 'I'll worry for you, then, Sam.' It had been clear the conversation was over and Sam had smiled and tried to sleep, too. Worrying could happen in the morning.
But there was something funny in his expression, Sam noticed, as he turned to leave. It wasn't the general indifference; he had come to associate with the others, but a gleam. A look, something... Jealousy, perhaps. Sam could recognize the glaze as one of his own; when he'd watch Frodo speak to Rosie, back home, or with Merry on a regular visit.
Did he wish he was with them? Practicing the sword with that man?
The man he shouldn't want to associate with. Didn't Frodo realize what a risk Boromir was to him? He could be hurt, tricked... But everyone else seemed okay with him, Sam reminded himself. Gandalf didn't appear to like him all that much, but Gandalf always took his time in liking someone.
He wanted to tell Frodo to be careful, to watch out, but then Frodo would want to know why, and Sam would have to explain his theories. And what if he was wrong? Then he'd give Frodo the idea, and it would be all his fault.
He heaved a heavy sigh, and was almost glad that Frodo was too busy staring to notice, and Sam climbed off their rock perch, and wandered over to the fire. It just wasn't fair. At least Frodo was a presentable hobbit. He was smart and could hold a decent conversation, and Boromir would have no problems seeing past the fact that Frodo was a mere hobbit. But Sam was just a plain gardener, and what did he told in comparison to a man? Sam would like to think they were friends, good friends even, but he knew not to expect much. He was his servant, not someone of class, of great respect, like Frodo, himself. It wasn't hard to see where that train of thought was heading.
He crouched in front of the fire, heaping their small portions of food onto the worn plates, and tried not to imagine Frodo's tentative declaration of love, when the time came right, and then Boromir's shock, then delight. And then they'd kiss, and touch, and Frodo's skin would flush like golden red leaves, as Boromir easily ripped at his clothing.
"Are you okay, Master Samwise?"
Sam jerked his hand back, nearly dropping his fork in the process, and looked up at the sound of approaching footsteps. Legolas stared curiously at him, as he walked past, and Sam hid a blush.
"I-I'm fine, Master Legolas."
Legolas cocked his head to the side, but nodded, and was gone before Sam could say another word. Not wanting anyone else to notice his misguided thoughts, Sam headed back up to the rock, setting the food down next to Frodo before claiming his previous crouch.
Frodo was intently watching, and Sam touched his shoulder, and then handed him the plate.
"Thanks," he said.
"Merry and Pippin are improving," Sam tried, hopelessly attempting conversation. Frodo just nodded. And he could feel any future chance crumble in just an instant. An instant was all it took now. Especially when Merry and Pippin were involved.
They had Boromir tackled to the ground, tickling him unmercifully, and one glance at Frodo let him know all he needed to know. The look in his eyes was guarded, but Sam had learned to read him long ago. He knew there was something there, in the caution and uncertainty, and Sam wondered if he'd ever receive it himself. But that was just a hopeless dream, and one he'd long ago grasped. And, he supposed, as long as Boromir never tried to hurt him, Sam would be glad.
He was never as glad for an interruption as he was when the Crebain attacked a few minutes later.
His musings could wait for another time. And he knew a time would come. A time always did for Sam. It always did.
Author: Krissy
Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien.
Author's Notes: This is set in the movie 'verse. During the scene where they stop to rest, just before the Crebain attack, after they left Rivendell. Just note, I don't have much knowledge of anything that is book related. Just bits and pieces. :D
Dedication: To Dana and Hope-you two rock. :)
Pairing: Sam/Frodo, Frodo/Boromir (both one-sided)
Rating: PG
Sam wasn't very good with prose, or even words in general. It was like being lost and not being able to find your way back, but in his case -- it was just losing himself in descriptions he didn't quite grasp. He understood simple things, like 'his eyes were clouded from the midmorning sun.' That he got. He knew what the sun looked like and he also knew what Mr. Frodo's eyes looked like. It was an easy image, just blended together.
The sun was hot on his back as he clambered to his feet, telling Frodo, "I'll get our food, sir."
But Frodo wasn't listening. Sam barely heard the "Alright." he got in response. He gazed at the older hobbit in concern. It wasn't like Frodo to barely pay attention to him, not when they were just conversing on the different flowers they'd plant when they returned home. He followed Frodo's hypnotizing gaze.
He was watching Boromir, Pippin, and Merry.
It wasn't an unusual sight, to see Frodo studying the others in the Fellowship. After all, it was his job to protect the ring, even from them. Frodo had told him of his concerns of the two men a few nights ago. They hardly knew them, and they were to trust them? His hands were twisted together, wringing his fingers, and Sam had told him to stop.
'Stop what?'
'Fretting, you're making yourself sick with worry. We have a long journey, Mr. Frodo, sir, so please just sleep.'
'You worry about me too much, Samwise Gamgee.' Frodo laughed. There had been a lengthy pause, 'Who worries for you, Sam?' The full moon was bright, and his hair gleamed like raven birds caught in sunlight. It was a magical moment, and a magical night. His words were bright in his voice, as he said,
'I don't need anyone to worry for me, Mr. Frodo.'
Frodo then rolled over, whispering, 'I'll worry for you, then, Sam.' It had been clear the conversation was over and Sam had smiled and tried to sleep, too. Worrying could happen in the morning.
But there was something funny in his expression, Sam noticed, as he turned to leave. It wasn't the general indifference; he had come to associate with the others, but a gleam. A look, something... Jealousy, perhaps. Sam could recognize the glaze as one of his own; when he'd watch Frodo speak to Rosie, back home, or with Merry on a regular visit.
Did he wish he was with them? Practicing the sword with that man?
The man he shouldn't want to associate with. Didn't Frodo realize what a risk Boromir was to him? He could be hurt, tricked... But everyone else seemed okay with him, Sam reminded himself. Gandalf didn't appear to like him all that much, but Gandalf always took his time in liking someone.
He wanted to tell Frodo to be careful, to watch out, but then Frodo would want to know why, and Sam would have to explain his theories. And what if he was wrong? Then he'd give Frodo the idea, and it would be all his fault.
He heaved a heavy sigh, and was almost glad that Frodo was too busy staring to notice, and Sam climbed off their rock perch, and wandered over to the fire. It just wasn't fair. At least Frodo was a presentable hobbit. He was smart and could hold a decent conversation, and Boromir would have no problems seeing past the fact that Frodo was a mere hobbit. But Sam was just a plain gardener, and what did he told in comparison to a man? Sam would like to think they were friends, good friends even, but he knew not to expect much. He was his servant, not someone of class, of great respect, like Frodo, himself. It wasn't hard to see where that train of thought was heading.
He crouched in front of the fire, heaping their small portions of food onto the worn plates, and tried not to imagine Frodo's tentative declaration of love, when the time came right, and then Boromir's shock, then delight. And then they'd kiss, and touch, and Frodo's skin would flush like golden red leaves, as Boromir easily ripped at his clothing.
"Are you okay, Master Samwise?"
Sam jerked his hand back, nearly dropping his fork in the process, and looked up at the sound of approaching footsteps. Legolas stared curiously at him, as he walked past, and Sam hid a blush.
"I-I'm fine, Master Legolas."
Legolas cocked his head to the side, but nodded, and was gone before Sam could say another word. Not wanting anyone else to notice his misguided thoughts, Sam headed back up to the rock, setting the food down next to Frodo before claiming his previous crouch.
Frodo was intently watching, and Sam touched his shoulder, and then handed him the plate.
"Thanks," he said.
"Merry and Pippin are improving," Sam tried, hopelessly attempting conversation. Frodo just nodded. And he could feel any future chance crumble in just an instant. An instant was all it took now. Especially when Merry and Pippin were involved.
They had Boromir tackled to the ground, tickling him unmercifully, and one glance at Frodo let him know all he needed to know. The look in his eyes was guarded, but Sam had learned to read him long ago. He knew there was something there, in the caution and uncertainty, and Sam wondered if he'd ever receive it himself. But that was just a hopeless dream, and one he'd long ago grasped. And, he supposed, as long as Boromir never tried to hurt him, Sam would be glad.
He was never as glad for an interruption as he was when the Crebain attacked a few minutes later.
His musings could wait for another time. And he knew a time would come. A time always did for Sam. It always did.