Okay, the lyrics here (the words in quotation marks) are from the one
and only most awesome band of this and every other century, The Josh Joplin
Group. It is not within my creative capacity to write these kind of
lyrics, and regrettably so.
The characters in this thing are not mine, but belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, as you all know. Just thought I'd clear that up, because some people are weird about it.
Anyway, this takes place in the desalinate desert that Sam and Frodo must get across before reaching Bharad-dur, and I don't have little accents to make that word perfect on this computer, because it's stupid, all right? All right. This is pre-Gollum experience, and just talks about how Frodo looks at his relationship with Sam. Not a slash.
************************
The jagged precipices rose all around us as we plodded forward, and I had the feeling we would only meet another jagged cliff that we would either have to dodge somehow, or descend. The utter oblivion of the world around us was depressing, and the Ring, and Sam, seemed to be my only comfort. The Ring hung right nest to my heart, laying flatly on my chest...
I was beginning to lose myself in it's simple wretchedness, and my desire to wear it, and the desire to reveal myself to the enemy. Everything seemed as if it were a haze anymore. One looming rock after another in this red wasteland. Sam, though... he may have complained, but he still maintained a somewhat cheerful exterior... cheerful for such a dreaded place, anyway.
He worried about me often, but... I couldn't explain to him my infinite desire that laid within the Ring. I couldn't put in words how the Ring made me feel; how every step I took I felt it pull me to the earth, how it was beginning to drain my life away because I had to use all of my strength to resist it. I couldn't tell him I was hardly myself anymore.
'I think therefore, I think I am
I can't make my mind up and I can't make you understand...'
I hardly wanted to eat anymore. Whenever we stopped, it was all I could do to keep from slipping my callused fingers over the smoothness of the Ring. I couldn't sleep, for the Ring had clutched onto my very existence, depriving me of everything I needed to survive, trying to leave me weak, vulnerable, and open to its attacks, urging me, pressing me to wear it.
I hardly spoke to Sam as much as I would have liked to. I knew that he worried. I knew he also lost some of his sleep watching over me, protecting me from the dangers of the open world around us; Gollum, the Ring Wraiths. I didn't know what to say to comfort him, to help him sleep, to assure him that we'd end up on the better end by the finish of this dreadful journey.
'...How I get distracted, how I search for things to say
How I let myself get myself into my way...'
It seemed like my only relief from my endless misery, and woe, were his vocal complaints, and merry-making of bad situations. His voice was what gave me life, anymore. Every word he spoke brought more of myself back into place. It distracted me from the impending doom that lie ahead, and from the heavy burden that lay pressed against my chest.
'...I love to hear you talk, it's funny but it's true...'
Sometimes, he was enough to draw a smile from my lips, or a laugh from my throat. I don't know what I would have done if he wasn't there with me. Perhaps I would have gone mad with lust for the Ring, perhaps I would have thrown myself off of the ledge of a precipice to end my torture. Thankfully, I didn't have to find out. He was there with me, and I was there with him.
'...What gets into me, must be you
What gets into me, must be you...'
The dead world around us was beginning to wear on the both of us, though, I think. We stopped more often than we would have liked at times, and at times we pressed on to escape the loneliness, and horror of where we stood. Even Sam let the surroundings press on his heart. When he did, it seemed as if all hope went with his good mood.
Sam was always wary, though, despite the monotonous skies, and unbearable conditions. It was as if he was my body guard, and in a way, he was; protecting me from everything, including not only Gollum, but the cold at night. Even when I fell behind, which I did more often than before, he was willing to protect me from the weariness that lied so heavy on me. He was always willing to wait, and always urging me on.
'...I'm always late but it's really not my fault
Time just hates me, that's why it made me an adult...'
Sam was just so persistent during our journey. At times he would want to stop to rest, certainly, but only to regain his vigor, and outlook on the situation. At least, that's what I believed. I beheld him as an untouchable hero at the same time that I viewed him as a life-long friend, and brother. Despite me seniority over him, he always seemed to know what to do when a trouble came. At times I had my own ideas, sure, and he usually agreed with me, but he was always the first to try out any plan without complaint.
'....If wisdom comes with age then I haven't got a clue
What gets into me, must be you
What gets into me, must be you...'
I always felt that, despite the Ring eating away at my mind, I had to remain strong; not just for myself, but for Sam. He worked so hard to be cheerful, and trying to lull me into sleep with his gentle humming, or his insistence that everything was well. I wanted to take lead, to be the one with the watchful eye, I wanted to be the one lulling my dear friend, and companion, into sweet sleep, and unfeigned dreams. At times, I did. I came up with the plans, and led us down paths where neither of us were certain would go. At times, I was the one to comfort us both with stories of home. We both just wanted to go home, and took delight in such stories.
'....Turn off your clock sleep in today
There isn't a job that can not wait
I can not wait to be home with you.....'
Sam... my beloved Sam. Always so just, and innocent, yet crude, and judging in the same instance. He told me Gollum was out to get us, and that was that. At times, when he said that, though, I could only think back to Gandalf's words about the wretched thing, and frown upon Sam's unlearned outlook of Gollum. It was natural for him to want to keep me from any hands prying in the dark, but he hated the poor thing with a passion.
Most of the time, it didn't matter to me. He was most likely right. I would sullenly agree, and try to change the subject to some distant idea, or thought. He would always follow my lead, and it was just so nice to be by his side, laughing under the brown sky, journeying with him from cliff to rivine. At times, I didn't care if the fear of orcs was around, I just wanted to feel like it was old times at the Green Dragon again, and laugh long and hard like I once did.
'...I might be walking and I might just laugh out loud
at something you said in the middle of a crowd
Well let the people stare I can't tell them what to do....'
Sam tolerated my foolishness, and my solitary moods with grace. I could tell that I broke his heart with what I was turning into at times, those times when I fell behind, or failed to sleep and eat, or when I refused to speak, or when all I could do was touch the Ring as if it were the only thing keeping me alive. I knew that it ate at him to see me so tortured, and, at times, to forget about my old Sam. My friend. He knew, though, that it was during those times when I needed him most, and he was always aiming to please with an old joke, or teasing smile.
'...What gets into me, must be you
What gets into me, must be you.'
I thought about all of this as I lie awake, clutching that Thing in my hand, listening to the even breathing of my companion who finally subdued to the call of sleep. His hand lay on my shoulder, letting me know he'd never leave my side, and he was something more important than some stupid ring. I knew this, yes, I knew this all along. I wished to show him, more desperately than I wanted to wear the Ring, more desperately than I wanted to destroy the foul Thing that had fallen into my possession. Somehow, though, I think he already knew that. I think he already knew that when I had sunk into a pool of despair, and he dragged me out to let me catch my breath, that I wanted to hug him, and give him a soft bed to rest in, if only for that night. I think he already knew that I saw him as my security blanket, and my escape from the harsh and cruel landscapes, and vapors. Yes, as I listened to him mumble his dream language, I knew that he knew.
The characters in this thing are not mine, but belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, as you all know. Just thought I'd clear that up, because some people are weird about it.
Anyway, this takes place in the desalinate desert that Sam and Frodo must get across before reaching Bharad-dur, and I don't have little accents to make that word perfect on this computer, because it's stupid, all right? All right. This is pre-Gollum experience, and just talks about how Frodo looks at his relationship with Sam. Not a slash.
************************
The jagged precipices rose all around us as we plodded forward, and I had the feeling we would only meet another jagged cliff that we would either have to dodge somehow, or descend. The utter oblivion of the world around us was depressing, and the Ring, and Sam, seemed to be my only comfort. The Ring hung right nest to my heart, laying flatly on my chest...
I was beginning to lose myself in it's simple wretchedness, and my desire to wear it, and the desire to reveal myself to the enemy. Everything seemed as if it were a haze anymore. One looming rock after another in this red wasteland. Sam, though... he may have complained, but he still maintained a somewhat cheerful exterior... cheerful for such a dreaded place, anyway.
He worried about me often, but... I couldn't explain to him my infinite desire that laid within the Ring. I couldn't put in words how the Ring made me feel; how every step I took I felt it pull me to the earth, how it was beginning to drain my life away because I had to use all of my strength to resist it. I couldn't tell him I was hardly myself anymore.
'I think therefore, I think I am
I can't make my mind up and I can't make you understand...'
I hardly wanted to eat anymore. Whenever we stopped, it was all I could do to keep from slipping my callused fingers over the smoothness of the Ring. I couldn't sleep, for the Ring had clutched onto my very existence, depriving me of everything I needed to survive, trying to leave me weak, vulnerable, and open to its attacks, urging me, pressing me to wear it.
I hardly spoke to Sam as much as I would have liked to. I knew that he worried. I knew he also lost some of his sleep watching over me, protecting me from the dangers of the open world around us; Gollum, the Ring Wraiths. I didn't know what to say to comfort him, to help him sleep, to assure him that we'd end up on the better end by the finish of this dreadful journey.
'...How I get distracted, how I search for things to say
How I let myself get myself into my way...'
It seemed like my only relief from my endless misery, and woe, were his vocal complaints, and merry-making of bad situations. His voice was what gave me life, anymore. Every word he spoke brought more of myself back into place. It distracted me from the impending doom that lie ahead, and from the heavy burden that lay pressed against my chest.
'...I love to hear you talk, it's funny but it's true...'
Sometimes, he was enough to draw a smile from my lips, or a laugh from my throat. I don't know what I would have done if he wasn't there with me. Perhaps I would have gone mad with lust for the Ring, perhaps I would have thrown myself off of the ledge of a precipice to end my torture. Thankfully, I didn't have to find out. He was there with me, and I was there with him.
'...What gets into me, must be you
What gets into me, must be you...'
The dead world around us was beginning to wear on the both of us, though, I think. We stopped more often than we would have liked at times, and at times we pressed on to escape the loneliness, and horror of where we stood. Even Sam let the surroundings press on his heart. When he did, it seemed as if all hope went with his good mood.
Sam was always wary, though, despite the monotonous skies, and unbearable conditions. It was as if he was my body guard, and in a way, he was; protecting me from everything, including not only Gollum, but the cold at night. Even when I fell behind, which I did more often than before, he was willing to protect me from the weariness that lied so heavy on me. He was always willing to wait, and always urging me on.
'...I'm always late but it's really not my fault
Time just hates me, that's why it made me an adult...'
Sam was just so persistent during our journey. At times he would want to stop to rest, certainly, but only to regain his vigor, and outlook on the situation. At least, that's what I believed. I beheld him as an untouchable hero at the same time that I viewed him as a life-long friend, and brother. Despite me seniority over him, he always seemed to know what to do when a trouble came. At times I had my own ideas, sure, and he usually agreed with me, but he was always the first to try out any plan without complaint.
'....If wisdom comes with age then I haven't got a clue
What gets into me, must be you
What gets into me, must be you...'
I always felt that, despite the Ring eating away at my mind, I had to remain strong; not just for myself, but for Sam. He worked so hard to be cheerful, and trying to lull me into sleep with his gentle humming, or his insistence that everything was well. I wanted to take lead, to be the one with the watchful eye, I wanted to be the one lulling my dear friend, and companion, into sweet sleep, and unfeigned dreams. At times, I did. I came up with the plans, and led us down paths where neither of us were certain would go. At times, I was the one to comfort us both with stories of home. We both just wanted to go home, and took delight in such stories.
'....Turn off your clock sleep in today
There isn't a job that can not wait
I can not wait to be home with you.....'
Sam... my beloved Sam. Always so just, and innocent, yet crude, and judging in the same instance. He told me Gollum was out to get us, and that was that. At times, when he said that, though, I could only think back to Gandalf's words about the wretched thing, and frown upon Sam's unlearned outlook of Gollum. It was natural for him to want to keep me from any hands prying in the dark, but he hated the poor thing with a passion.
Most of the time, it didn't matter to me. He was most likely right. I would sullenly agree, and try to change the subject to some distant idea, or thought. He would always follow my lead, and it was just so nice to be by his side, laughing under the brown sky, journeying with him from cliff to rivine. At times, I didn't care if the fear of orcs was around, I just wanted to feel like it was old times at the Green Dragon again, and laugh long and hard like I once did.
'...I might be walking and I might just laugh out loud
at something you said in the middle of a crowd
Well let the people stare I can't tell them what to do....'
Sam tolerated my foolishness, and my solitary moods with grace. I could tell that I broke his heart with what I was turning into at times, those times when I fell behind, or failed to sleep and eat, or when I refused to speak, or when all I could do was touch the Ring as if it were the only thing keeping me alive. I knew that it ate at him to see me so tortured, and, at times, to forget about my old Sam. My friend. He knew, though, that it was during those times when I needed him most, and he was always aiming to please with an old joke, or teasing smile.
'...What gets into me, must be you
What gets into me, must be you.'
I thought about all of this as I lie awake, clutching that Thing in my hand, listening to the even breathing of my companion who finally subdued to the call of sleep. His hand lay on my shoulder, letting me know he'd never leave my side, and he was something more important than some stupid ring. I knew this, yes, I knew this all along. I wished to show him, more desperately than I wanted to wear the Ring, more desperately than I wanted to destroy the foul Thing that had fallen into my possession. Somehow, though, I think he already knew that. I think he already knew that when I had sunk into a pool of despair, and he dragged me out to let me catch my breath, that I wanted to hug him, and give him a soft bed to rest in, if only for that night. I think he already knew that I saw him as my security blanket, and my escape from the harsh and cruel landscapes, and vapors. Yes, as I listened to him mumble his dream language, I knew that he knew.