wandering the void between zero and infinity...
The strength to sever the tangled strings
still sleeps within your heart.
Note: Would like to thank Emmy-chan for helping me write some. She is the greatest writer ever, save for veggie. XD ...naw, I love 'em both.
----
How warm the morning was. How refreshing...the Sun beamed in through the window and gently stroked Sam's cheeks. If only everyday was like this. A day where the Sun was as lazy as him, and he didn't have to work, and he didn't have to care. And his heart didn't have to work at all. His hands laid contently on his hobbit belly, and his hair grew about the side of his face while his head nestled on his pillow.
Hopefully he'd wake up to a fruitful meal and a good smile. A chance of that, of course, was most unlikely. Hamfast, the well-known Gaffer of Hobbiton, blocked the Sun's shining face with his stern yet flushed body. His overalls had already received it's usual bath in the garden, as well as his hands. Slowly, as his arms pressed scoldingly onto his hips, began to awake his son, "Wake up, you tired old git!"
Samwise opened his eyes with a glorified look. "Ah, what is it you want?"
"You are such a ridiculous fellow! What son of mine would sleep in like this for no special occasion? You need to get over to Bag End and help that Mr. Frodo. Here you are, and it's high passed noon. Passed lunch, I reckon."
Sam grinned, pleased with his old Gaffer's expression. "It's special for me. I mean, if you know what I mean. Everyone has their own special days. And today happens to be mine." He roused himself, stomach pleading for food. The morning dew grew in his hazy eyes, as the sunlight swam along. It reflected all he had to tell for the past year or so. As of late, he daily rose with the sun just to see Frodo. His only excuse was that he needed to tend the wonderful bushes and flowers of the Bag End coves. In his heart though, it was Frodo that meant getting up every morning.
That's all Frodo will see me as though...He will always think that is why I came...but that isn't my life...Sam looked up at his Gaffer's impatient face. Well...at least, not completely...
"Mr. Frodo told me I could stay here. You know, sleep in...take a rest..."
The Gaffer suspiciously eyed Sam, wondering what all this meant by the tone of his son's voice. It was calmer than usual. "Alright, alright..." he mumbled. "Tea and the liking is out on the table...but I don't expect you to waste a whole day. That's not what it's for. Not at all, working hard gives you a better view of things...That's a Gaffer's ambition." Sam could almost completely mouth along the words, they were overused more than enough.
"Well, I reckon I'll see Mr. Frodo later or so...I guess." Sam bowed his head.
"Well...whatever works for you," the Gaffer replied, almost solving the puzzle as he looked above Sam like a hawk to it's prey. He whiped his hands on a handkerchief hanging by his back pocket, and heading for the door called to Sam, "And also, you have a guest out at the table. Such a rude host you can be at times."
Sam looked startled, almost oblivious until the commands came out again. "Well? Up! Don't wanna keep him waiting, either!"
Sam slid himself from bed, nightclothes still sleeping upon his body, and his hair in a mess. "Who is it?" he mumbled, still sleeping. His head tilted to the side, and for a second everything about him turned black and full of sleep. Until the name left the Gaffer's mouth and latched onto Sam like grass on a hot dry day.
"It's that Peregrin Took."
Warm sunlight enveloped Frodo, kissing him gently like a familiar friend. Warmth flooded his heart, making him feel the strangest of sensations, save the times he gazed upon Samwise of course, but not everything in the world was as perfect as that. Only the Stars, Moon and Sun had at least a tiny chance of the love Sam brought to his garden each morning.
He eventually awoke though, as the birdsong was stronger than ever. He wanted to sing along, for he had written a song for his Samwise...and it only worked in the thin aurora of the morning, where you'd first awake...and find the one you love amidst the morning sun, staring lovingly at you. Frodo wrote such a thing in an inspiration from such fantasies. Twice had he dreamed about it, as well.
Alas, Sam wouldn't think anything but a friendly act of kindness from what Frodo wanted to do. His songs and poems for the one he loved were useless, they'd never be read or heard by anyone but himself. Such a pity for the works he never had the depth to write before.
Frodo wanted to sleep more, but his ears twitched and his eyes descended to the sound of a steaming kettle. Footsteps scurried, and a familiar voice rang. He sat up, almost wanting to laugh. Immediately, he slid from his bed, not minding his loose shirt hanging, and walked casually into the kitchen to find his dear cousin Merry amidst the steams of boiled up water.
"Having fun?" Frodo laughed.
Merry turned around, surprised to find Frodo finally awake. "Of course! Boiling water is my kind of thing, you know." He grinned until he pressed a hand against the burning kettle and screamed. Too humorous for a frown though.
"I'm sure it is," Frodo laughed up through his painted cheeks. "So glad you come in the morning as I sleep!"
"Well, what was I to do? It's way passed breakfast, and even lunch, and you hadn't wakened til now. Is a boring morning, you know. Not much to do, as Sam had slept in too. Pip went to go see him though." He took out a mug for himself and Frodo and showered the tea with bubbling water.
Frodo began to slowly mix it about, and stare at the swirling water. The spoon clanged against porcelain of the mug and sang out an off-key tone. "Why did Pippin go see Sam, though?"
Merry shrugged, looking up from his warm cup. "You've got me there. Not a clue in the world. We haven't seen both of you in a while, you know." He stirred the water more, being absorbed in the fun it caused.
Frodo stared blankly at the table, the cup kept his hands warm as the rest of his body was in such a chill. His feet swung as they barely touched the floor, as where Merry could sit plainly and drink. Once again, Merry looked upon Frodo's pale face. "Well, anyway, Frodo. Why was it you slept so late anyway? And Samwise as well..."
"Oh," Frodo recollected the day before. "I told him he had no need to come over tomorrow. He's such a hard working fellow, takes much after his Gaffer."
Merry laughed, "That or his Gaffer makes him."
Frodo smiled along too, "Yeah. Samwise takes many orders without following his own. That's very admirable of him. You don't find many people like him. I had to let him sleep a day away, just to know what it's like to be a lazy gent."
Merry had a never-ending smile upon his lips. It seemed plain to him. In fact, in seemed plain to everyone else too, just not Frodo himself. "You know, Fro'...I never took it into much consideration up til now. You and Mr. Gamgee..."
Frodo was on the thinnest of ice now, Merry had that look. No, the look. The one where you know he knows, and the one where he also is scheming as he assumes. It was times like that Frodo thought Merry was a bit too merry.
Merry began to kneel up on his chair, leaning over the table to Frodo slyly. Oh no, that look...Frodo sank in his chair. But Merry's eyes would not draw away. His face beamed, and as the reign of Merry took control, he slid about the table and right by Frodo's side, still with a look of pure madness and joy. If only it was neither.
"Oh Frodo!" He wrapped his arm about his cousin's neck, rubbing his thumb along Frodo's cheek. "I knew it for so long. You do, don't you? You truly do..."
A chill ran up Frodo's spine, trying to let the answers escape his tight lips. A tension was building inside him, levity and toil, and as Merry talked in more riddles, it came clear to Frodo that he could not escape. And so, with the first ounce of courage he'd have conjured up for the day, shouted into Merry's grinning face...
"Yes! It is true, Merry! I do love Samwise Gamgee! I love him dearly! I let him stay home so I wouldn't have to behold his beautiful face, and waste another day without letting him know I love him. I love the happiness he brings with him to Bag End and into my garden. I love when he sings with the birds as he walks down that path, and I love his never-ending smile. His powerful laugh...and his will. He's a wonderful hobbit. I love him."
Merry's glorified smile turned into a shocked expression that scared Frodo dearly. He had assumed what Merry thought wrong...and now he was on the edge of a knife...and no matter which way he went, he'd fall. Such an idiot I am...Frodo thought in woe.
"Ah...well," Frodo said, smiling embarrasingly. "...Right?"
Merry began laughing uncontrollably infront of Frodo, "I thought...ah..." he began to roar with more laughter. "I thought Sam and you were fighting over me!" He laughed more, falling off the chair as Frodo elbowed him above his head.
"Such a fool you are!" Frodo closed his eyes in displeasure.
As Merry's feet dangled in the air and his head met with the floor, Frodo couldn't help but smile. "Well, sit up! I'd want to talk to you, now that you know..."
Merry sat himself up, and began to spoon his tea about more. He seemed eager to listen to what Frodo had to say, for he never expected it. It was obvious they were meant to be, friend wise, but in love was a complete story. He didn't know if Sam felt the same, it'd be a pity if he didn't. Possibly Sam already knew well enough how beautiful Frodo was, but felt unworthy. Either way, Merry wanted to help his cousin in any way.
"So," said Merry, biting his lip. "You love Sam?"
"Dearly."
"That's adorable!" he taunted, making star-eyes.
"Get serious, Merry!"
"Alright, alright," he responded, still laughing at his own joke. "Yea, if you didn't tell me sooner, I'd of found out by myself. The way you look as you speak or hear his name. You seem...entranced."
"Exactly!" Frodo pressed his hands on the table, gripping it as if it were Sam. "This is how deep it's been getting, Merry. I've been aching much as night, just thinking of him, saying his name. I didn't fall asleep until the moon did last night, and that's why I slept so late. Maybe if I keep that up, I won't have to face him again...seeing as I can't without wanting to grab his hand, fall to my knees, and say I love him. I think that'd scare him." He smiled faintly, but frowned as he did before.
Merry stared at Frodo in awe. "My Frodo! Certainly you can't live like that forever...Sam wouldn't want it that way."
"But Sam might not love me. That's what I'm afraid of...I just don't want to ruin such a wonderful companionship."
"Aw, I almost feel like I should help..."
"Oh no...you couldn't." Frodo almost considered it, until it crossed his mind: "You'd probably mess it up."
"Come on, Fro! You know I'll try...give me a chance."
"Hmm, well...Give me a moment." Frodo took a last sip from his cup, and stood up, and walked into his bedroom, feet pounding against the wooden planks. Merry heard Frodo's footsteps return as Frodo came in with a giant chest that seemed barely able to shut correctly, and that it'd explode on impact.
Frodo hummed a tune familiar only to himself, and opened the chest with the magic only he could do. "Only my touch will keep this chest from flying into your face. It hurts a bunch, even ask Pippin." He smiled grimly, and took out a stack of papers stained with years of sleep. Setting the papers gently onto the table, he said in a stricken voice: "Do not ruin these papers, I had written some of them at least a year or two ago, and some are freshly printed from newfound interests. You know, all about Samwise...and maybe other beauties that catch my eye, but none as valuable as Sam."
Merry stared at the papers, stunned and delighted, and such shock to find Frodo writing such things that came only from his heart. Words that mixed with pain and bliss, Sunshine and Moonlight, pleasure and tears...everything that stood for emotions. At least, to Frodo. These things must really stand tall in the depths of his mind...I mean, just staring at him; his eyes are the same, but the colors twitch and yearn.
"What will you do with all of these? Are they for yourself only?"
Frodo looked up from a paper full of poems he had written, and he was smiling and admiring it. He had a proud smile to wear, Merry did think they were the most beautiful things in the world. However, Frodo looked up from the memories of sitting at a desk on a cold summer night, the window open, and the Moonlight bathing him with a remembrance. "Of course not..." his voice trailed off, making Merry sure Frodo wasn't.
"You don't sound too sure..."
"No, no! I am sure! I want Sam to see all of these!" Frodo stood up, with a sorrowful gaze. His face was very pale, and his hair was swaying to the unlatched window's whistle. It caressed his face and a single tear slipped from his eye, as it was kissed away surely by the wind as it hit his chin.
Merry smiled, and walked over to Frodo's side; without another word or tease, wrapped his arms around his cousin's shoulders and embraced him brotherly. "I will help you as much as I can, Fro'. Just don't be so sorrowful alone, you know how much I dislike that. Brings even me to a few tears," he rubbed his cheek to Frodo's, showing the proof of the tears he spoke of.
Frodo placed his hand onto Merry's wrist, and beamed with appreciation. "I love you much. No one could possibly do more..."
"Oh but they can," cackled Merry as he dug his face into Frodo's neck. "And they will," he muffled out.
"Good morning, you sleepy hobbit!" Pippin cheered as Sam walked sleepily into the kitchen. Pippin stood up and pulled the chair out in favor of the sleepy hobbit, still singing cheerfully, "There you go!"
"Good morning to you also, Mr. Pippin. What brings you over so early, if you don't mind me asking?" Sam rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and yawned as Pippin brought him over a plate of leftover taters Mrs. Gamgee had rounded up while Sam still dreamed in bed. Cracking his knuckles, Sam began to gratefully eat off the plate, responding with a full mouth: "Thank you dearly!"
Pippin, whiping the potato bits from his face, laughed and said, "Oh! Just visiting, seeing as this is the first morning you've ever wasted. I mean, not going to Bag End and all. Actually quite scary."
Sam gave a light-hearted smile that warmed Pippin up and his eyes shined. "That's an easy one to answer!" Sam ate his fill, as he finished up the remaining potatos on his plate and continued speaking contently. "Mr. Frodo told me I should be getting more rest. Told me I work too hard and that I needed a day to relax. I'm thankful he talked me into it, I'd of already been over there. 'Course it's hard to stay here, you know. I'd rather be over there...I mean, just to be near him. But it lightens my heart to know he cares enough to force me to rest." He placed his hand on the back of his neck and laughed, "It takes that much to stop me from trying."
A light reflected upon Sam almost, raining doubt. A bashful sigh he gave, and Pippin was clued more into the mystery. Such a majestic possibility reigned from Samwise's beaming face, it almost set Pippin's mind on fire. He's showing something, Pippin thought. He surely is. I'm sure it is what I think...
"I see. Mr. Frodo is like that, he doesn't want to work people to the point where they can't breathe. You've worked for him constantly, you'd think he'd of let you off sooner. Maybe possibly you'd want to work on the bushes out in Tookland?"
Sam nodded with a refusing squeal, "I'm a bit too fond of Mr. Frodo's garden, if you get what I mean. They've become dear friends, I can't part with them."
Pippin frowned, "That's an understanding. He does have a beautiful garden. All the thanks go to you, as well." Pippin patted Sam on the back. "So, how about some afternoon tea?"
"Sounds fine to me, don't have much else to do, unless you allow me back to sleep."
Pippin shook his head and gave a slight wink, "I'd rather have some tea!"
Pippin danced about, opening the cabinets and hopping up to grab mugs. As he placed a kettle on the fire, he began to wonder: How does Frodo feel about Samwise coming over every morning, anyway? The thought appealed to Pippin, as he thought possibly that Frodo didn't like Samwise. It wasn't possible though, Frodo and Samwise were an inseperatable pair, like songs and pipeweed, or even fish and chips. Samwise was like that around Frodo; they were the a match of Stars and Moon. Frodo couldn't appear in the sky unless the Stars of Samwise were there to comfort him.
Pippin's train of thought lost its track as the inferno under the kettle bubbled the water and Sam called out, "A-hoy! Watch it, watch it!"
With a laugh, Pippin took the kettle by the handle and watered the tea prepared in the cups like flowers. Sam placed his head in his hands, stared at the water as it poured almost heavenly with the sun bathing it. He graciously closed his eyes and thanked Pippin, but began to stare off into the abyss of dreaming he had been in.
Pippin blew the steam slowly from his mug and sipped it, bouncing with a reaction from the hot. He turned his eyes to Sam, noticing he wouldn't drink right away. "Is it alright?"
Sam reached for the blue bowl at the center of the table, grabbing a lemon and said, "Yes, yes...I'm really fine, actually. Except...well, you know...Bag End and...it's kind of hard to explain, I'm guessing."
Pippin's heart sank, and reached out to Sam's wrist and gripped it. "I know, I think. We can go visit Bag End after we have this tea." Sam's face burned red and his lips curled into a ray of sunshine. "First I want to finish it though, and all, so we can talk. We haven't chatted much in a while, and I'm dying to know what's up lately, besides the usual gardening."
"Ah, well, not much, that's saying least wise. Unless you count Mr. Frodo had once invited me to go on a walk with him, that was a beautiful day, it was. Was a bit passed Mid-Year's day, and I came up the pathway that is so familiar, and Frodo greeted me at his wonderful rounded door. Painted it not too long ago, as well. But besides that, he had a surprising smile on his face, and out of nowhere asked me 'Samwise, my dear hobbit, this is the most beautiful day I've seen since before Bilbo left! Come, let's walk around a bit. I won't allow you to work today, it's too beautiful.' Of course, I responded delightfully. And I'll tell you for sure, I'm glad I didn't decline, it was such a gorgeous day and no mistake."
Sam took a deep breath and drained his cup. "Birds were praising us as we headed towards Buckland, 'course we didn't walk far, at least not a foot more than Michel Delving. We walked far, and around noon we stopped by a small flowing stream, a very beautiful one. Mr. Frodo and I sat on the grass and talked and laughed and ate. It was very comforting. Very content, very cozy. When we headed home, Mr. Frodo limped a bit, even for the small way we walked...and I supported him. And as he thanked me...my heart became soft. Almost wanted to tell him that, tell him that my heart would be a pillow for him to rest his weary head."
Sam snickered at his own foolishness, "Strange of me to talk of this," he mumbled.
"No, no...go on, Sam. It's heart-warming, actually." Pippin gripped onto his mug, noticing the warmness of the tea had died out.
"I don't know," Sam blushed. "Frodo does something to me. Everything I feel around him is so confusing, and it twists my heart. Memories such as him randomly asking me to walk with him so far a distance, I can't forget it. Small things stick in my mind, like a day where he had asked me if I was hungry, and I told him I couldn't possibly until the bushes were trimmed. He gave me the most, and not in a bad way, heart-stabbing smile. It was an image that would never leave my mind. And now I keep it more close to me own heart..."
Pippin gave a smile that told Samwise he understood. Pippin did, he knew what it was that made Samwise ache and turn. The reason why he woke up every morning for the same reason: to see Frodo's shining face before him.
Pippin gently said to Samwise with much concern, "Sam...I think yo--"
"I think I love Mr. Frodo, Pippin." Samwise said, eyes hazy as he interrupted his friend unexpectedly. "I love him with all my life, no mistake. I can't touch a garden anymore unless it's of Bag End's territory. I just can't live anymore. I can't sleep without shaking at night, trying to figure out why he does this to me."
Pippin stared at Sam with much sorrow, wishing he didn't have to see his dear friend this way. "Oh Samwise, everything will turn out fine. It's good you told me...now I can help you, in anyway you let me." He stroked his finger under Sam's drowning eyes. Even his tears had a weightless doubt to them, and it hurt Pippin to the point where he thought he'd cry.
Pippin stood, walking over to Samwise's side, he kneeled down by Sam's side and said happily, "Why don't we go to Bag End now?"
Sam shook his head doubtfully, "Mr. Frodo can't know though, Pippin. I wouldn't dare ruin our fellowship, or possibly scare him. I'd truly hate myself then."
"I won't say a word," Pippin nodded cheerfully, elbowing Sam's arm lightly. "I promise. Not even to Merry. And somehow I'll help you...because I know what it feels like to ache how you are now."
Samwise's eyes grew from the squinting river they were in, and he beamed with such joy; he wrapped his arms tightly around Pippin's neck and cried happily into his hair. "You're a marvel! You don't know much that would mean to me! Oh, Pippin! How I love you!"
Pippin smiled back, squeezing his companion as much as possible. "I know Mr. Frodo loves you, Sam. You're very admiral. Who couldn't? You deserve Frodo, and I think he wants you too."
Sam rubbed his remaining tears away, "Thank you so greatly..."
"Anything for you, Samwise."