Lyrics From: Because It's Love by The Kelly Family
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**Everythime I look at your face,
I get this feeling,
Everythime I look in your eyes,
It starts healing,
Everything we walk side by side,
Yes I get this feeling,
Because it's love, yes it's love,
Oh it's love**
I look at his head in my lap. His face, He is not sleeping, yet, there is no peace over it. Just the same troubled – almost pained – expression that never seem to leave his face now. My heart twist with pain – a now familiar feeling – I just wish there was something I could do to ease his burden.
His eyes open again, and for a moment the lock with mine. Brilliant blue and deep, it is for a second as if his soul is laid before me. He smiles, sweetly – a little, but still noticeable, smile.
"It's hard to find peace in this place, Sam." He confides with a sigh as his eyes wander in the darkness.
I nod. "I'll keep watch over you." I repeat, hoping that he will find some comfort so he can catch a bit of sleep. He looks as if he needs it.
"Ok." He gives in and tries to settle once again. I stroke a stray lock from his forehead, then let my hand wander through the soft, dark curls.
As his breath evens, my mind drift back through out journey. To be precise, all the way back to the day he woke up in Rivendell after the terrible event at Weathertop. That day was easily one of the happiest days in my life. If not the happiest.
Oh, how wonderful it was then, walking around in Rivendell with Mr. Frodo. Life was just perfect, if only it could have stayed that way. But, I suppose it could not. Just because of one stupid piece of metal – gold – that can apparently ruin the whole world. (It is almost ruining mine, the way Mr. Frodo is suffering because of it.) But at least I am here, with him, with Mr Frodo, as it should be. Yes, where he goes, Sam must follow. (And that darn Smeagol too, it seems. (I do not like him calling Mr. Frodo "master", he is my master, not that Stinker Slinker's master.) Yes, at least we are still together, even if it is in this dark tunnel with that sneaky Smeagol sneaking around.
**It's everytime you looks at my face,
You give me this feeling,
Everytime you look in my face,
My heart starts to tumble,
Oh, I think of you all the time,
It's you I believe in.
Because it's love, yes it's love,
Oh it's love.**
I can feel that he is looking at me, feel his soft brown eyes tracing my face. What is he thinking off?
"Lay your head in my lap." His words echo in my head. Should he really be saying such things to me? At Bag's End it would have been… inappropriate. Unthinkable. Although I suppose in situations like this there really is no wrong or right – none of the usual rules apply. You have to act from your head… or your heart.
Was that what he did? Acted from his heart? Does he like the thought of me sleeping in his lap – not just too keep me safe – or was it just an act of duty for poor master?
His eyes are still on me. Oh, this will not do! I open my eyes again, and for a moment there is a falling sensation as they lock with his.
"It's hard to find peace in this place." He should only know how hard it is. Not so much because of the place, just because of all these thoughts in my head. Oh dear!
"I'll keep watch over you." There is a hint of a smile in his voice, and it brings a strange comfort. Maybe, after all, he too is feeling that we are not merely master and servant anymore.
He is more than my gardener now. More than a servant. I don't think that he is following me because it is his duty as a servant, but because he is my friend. It is all so confusing I think I will just try to sleep instead!
I like the way his hand runs through my hair. It's familiar – comforting – and so not a servant thing. I allow myself to drift off, believing that he will keep me as safe as I would be if I had a guard of 100 men, and safe in the knowledge that he will follow me anywhere… even in my dreams.
THE END
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**Everythime I look at your face,
I get this feeling,
Everythime I look in your eyes,
It starts healing,
Everything we walk side by side,
Yes I get this feeling,
Because it's love, yes it's love,
Oh it's love**
I look at his head in my lap. His face, He is not sleeping, yet, there is no peace over it. Just the same troubled – almost pained – expression that never seem to leave his face now. My heart twist with pain – a now familiar feeling – I just wish there was something I could do to ease his burden.
His eyes open again, and for a moment the lock with mine. Brilliant blue and deep, it is for a second as if his soul is laid before me. He smiles, sweetly – a little, but still noticeable, smile.
"It's hard to find peace in this place, Sam." He confides with a sigh as his eyes wander in the darkness.
I nod. "I'll keep watch over you." I repeat, hoping that he will find some comfort so he can catch a bit of sleep. He looks as if he needs it.
"Ok." He gives in and tries to settle once again. I stroke a stray lock from his forehead, then let my hand wander through the soft, dark curls.
As his breath evens, my mind drift back through out journey. To be precise, all the way back to the day he woke up in Rivendell after the terrible event at Weathertop. That day was easily one of the happiest days in my life. If not the happiest.
Oh, how wonderful it was then, walking around in Rivendell with Mr. Frodo. Life was just perfect, if only it could have stayed that way. But, I suppose it could not. Just because of one stupid piece of metal – gold – that can apparently ruin the whole world. (It is almost ruining mine, the way Mr. Frodo is suffering because of it.) But at least I am here, with him, with Mr Frodo, as it should be. Yes, where he goes, Sam must follow. (And that darn Smeagol too, it seems. (I do not like him calling Mr. Frodo "master", he is my master, not that Stinker Slinker's master.) Yes, at least we are still together, even if it is in this dark tunnel with that sneaky Smeagol sneaking around.
**It's everytime you looks at my face,
You give me this feeling,
Everytime you look in my face,
My heart starts to tumble,
Oh, I think of you all the time,
It's you I believe in.
Because it's love, yes it's love,
Oh it's love.**
I can feel that he is looking at me, feel his soft brown eyes tracing my face. What is he thinking off?
"Lay your head in my lap." His words echo in my head. Should he really be saying such things to me? At Bag's End it would have been… inappropriate. Unthinkable. Although I suppose in situations like this there really is no wrong or right – none of the usual rules apply. You have to act from your head… or your heart.
Was that what he did? Acted from his heart? Does he like the thought of me sleeping in his lap – not just too keep me safe – or was it just an act of duty for poor master?
His eyes are still on me. Oh, this will not do! I open my eyes again, and for a moment there is a falling sensation as they lock with his.
"It's hard to find peace in this place." He should only know how hard it is. Not so much because of the place, just because of all these thoughts in my head. Oh dear!
"I'll keep watch over you." There is a hint of a smile in his voice, and it brings a strange comfort. Maybe, after all, he too is feeling that we are not merely master and servant anymore.
He is more than my gardener now. More than a servant. I don't think that he is following me because it is his duty as a servant, but because he is my friend. It is all so confusing I think I will just try to sleep instead!
I like the way his hand runs through my hair. It's familiar – comforting – and so not a servant thing. I allow myself to drift off, believing that he will keep me as safe as I would be if I had a guard of 100 men, and safe in the knowledge that he will follow me anywhere… even in my dreams.
THE END