The After Years
(Chapter 1)
"The Unexpected Guest"
By: Lady Elaine
(Aqua: Meaghan)
Sam sat up in bed, his eyes snapped wide in horror and sweat streaked his pale face. His vision swam with crimson horror and pale death in the shape of hundreds of menacing eyes. When the dark cloud lifted from his eyes, the terrified hobbit looked frantically around and saw, to his great relief, that he was in his own room at Bag End. His wife Rosie was sleeping peacefully next to him, and Elanor, as far as he could hear, was still sleeping soundly in the next room. Sam heaved a sigh of relief as he wiped away the tears that were uncontrollably slipping down his face.
Rose stirred in her sleep and sat up, she placed a loving hand on her husband's arm, "Those dreams again?" she whispered.
He turned slowly to look at her worried face and smiled weakly, "They were not as bad tonight," he said, reaching up to stroke her cheek. He lied of course, the dreams had no end and little mercy, he was afraid that they would haunt him forever. He shuddered as he remembered the grotesque feeling of the slimy, blood soaked hands of the orcs in his dream, prodding and poking at him as if he were some piece of roasting mutton. Oh, how he wished it were only a dream.
Sam had never told his wife, or anyone else for that matter, all the horrors he had seen in lands that no one even dared speak of. But the memories of them still haunted his dreams, and he had no idea how to stop them.
It seemed ages ago when he and Frodo were lost in Mordor without any hope of ever returning home, though it had only been two years. He wondered if Pippin or Merry had similar dreams, he needed to talk to someone who knew, someone who could still smell the gut wrenching stench of the orcs' rancid breath and see their horrid faced clear as day when they shut their eyes. He needed to talk to his friends.
The still fairly new resident of Bag End gazed out the little window that looked out to the north, the direction in which Rivendell lay and Lothlorien somewhere beyond that, and sighed happily, remembering the merriment the elves never seemed to lack. He had refused to sleep anywhere near the side of the house that looked out to the east, to the Land of Shadows that he utterly wished to forget.
The sun was still sleeping just below the horizon, and Sam thought that it looked as though the land had never been stripped of it's beautiful trees by Sharkey and his Dark men who had invaded their home those years ago. The gift The Lady Galadriel had given him worked wonders all over the Shire. Suddenly Sam thought of Frodo, and his heart gave a sorrowful leap. It had been five long months since his beloved master went off with Bilbo and Gandalf and the rest. Sam missed him deeply but knew that the former Ring Bearer was in a place where the Shadow could never again bring him pain.
****
Meanwhile, nearly 15 miles away, Merry's screams of terror echoed through the hall of the Brandybuck estate as he clawed desperately at the imaginary hands of his orc attackers. His free hand felt through the bedclothes, searching madly for the sword that was not there.
When he finally realized he was in his own room, the disgusted hobbit bolted out of bed to the washtub in the next room full of icy water from last night's bath, and plunged in his head.
****
While Merry was scrubbing the filth of his dream from his body, a certain Peregrin Took was a few miles away slashing madly at his curtains with an invisible sword.
He swung once, twice, three times, but lost is footing when he was preparing for another and fell to the floor with a valiant cry of defeat.
The fall was enough to jolt the poor, young hobbit out of his nightmare; he stood up feeling both terrified and very turned around.
Pippin, being the youngest member of the Company and feeling that something was wrong, though he didn't know what, wasted no time in dressing and running a pony nearly to death all the way to Brandy Hall. He wondered foolishly what he was going to say to poor Merry when he woke him up, and vaguely wondered why he had to be doing it at four o'clock in the morning, by Shire reckoning.
But when he reached Merry's door, he saw a light on in his room. 'Something is definitely wrong,' thought Pippin to himself, 'Merry would sleep for weeks if we would let him, what on earth is he doing up!' At that he dismounted, ran to the window and tapped on it softly.
Inside, Merry sprung lightly out of the chair in the corner, where he had been attempting to read, and crouched instinctively into a fighting stance, expecting to be bombarded by an army of hobbit eating orcs. But seeing Pippin's face, he quickly relaxed and went to let in his friend.
"Pippin, lad!" cried Merry when he lifted the window, "what on earth are you doing lurking around under peoples windows at this ghastly hour of the night!"
Pippin climbed through the window and stood to face his abnormally large friend, "Same reason why you are reading, I suppose," he said, seeing the book in Merry's hand.
Merry let the forced smile fade from his lips and gazed back at Pippin seriously. They both knew why the other was awake, they didn't know how they knew it, somehow they just did, and had it been a few years ago they would have laughed it off. But they were too changed by their last adventure that they were no longer able to do things exactly as they had before.
Finally Merry broke the gaze that they had held and turned back to the chair to set down his book. "What is happening to us Pippin?" he said, cupping his face in his hands, "Are we going mad?"
Pippin looked at his friend sadly, 'he looks older' he thought, 'old and tired, just like Frodo. But I guess we have all changed a bit in some way or another. How I wish Frodo were still with us.' With that thought he walked over to Merry's chair and placed a hand on his right arm. To his surprise the arm felt cold and dark, and he jerked back his hand with a cry, "Merry, your arm..."
Suddenly Merry felt a much too familiar, cold, piercing pain flow through his arm, the same arm that had pierced the dark hide of the Ringwraith King two years ago. He clutched it with his other hand and held it to his chest, but it did no good. Pippin threw himself to the floor and covered his head with his arms crying out with fear that it was happening again. Merry felt it as well, perhaps more even than poor Pippin. Something was happening, and though he could not see the sky above him, he knew, somehow he just knew that if he could, he would see a dark winged creature swooping over his house.
After a moment, Pippin lifted his head and cautiously looked at the ceiling before turning to Merry, who was still clutching his arm to his chest, his face screwed up in pain and utter terror.
"How---" he began, "How can one of them still be alive?"
Merry paled even more, as if he had just realized what this could mean and looked desperately out the window. "I - I don't know," he said, his voice shaking uncontrollably, "I really don't know."
****
Meanwhile, back in Hobbiton, Sam, who could not have gone back to sleep for the life of him, had gotten dressed and walked out the door. He did not know exactly where he was going, nor did he care, he just let his feet wander wherever they would. Sam's mind was a blur of dreams and reality, and he didn't quite know which was which. He wondered desperately why the dreams were getting worse, and why he suddenly felt this sickening feeling of dread, like something was about to happen. Why couldn't he just get over his fears and enjoy his life?
It was still a bit dark when the troubled hobbit set out and a little chilly but Sam could tell, from experience, that the sun would be up within the hour. He stuck his hands in his pockets and looked down at his feet as he continued to walk and let his thought wander.
****
It was some time later that Sam finally stopped and looked around as if he had just woken up while sleepwalking. He was surprised and alarmed to find that his feet had taken him off the road and in the direction of Buckland. The lone hobbit was standing in a large, grassy field on the edge of a grove of trees that cut through Hobbiton to Crickhollow. Sam laughed as he realized that he had absent-mindedly taken the exact rout that he, Frodo and Pippin had taken the night they had left Bag End, not knowing if they would ever see it again.
"Well, a fine mess you would have gotten yourself into, Sam Gamgee, if you had walked yourself all the way to Rivendell without knowing it!" he said to himself, laughing a little at the idea.
"I'm sure our merry friends would have been equally amused and laughed you right back home!"
Sam jumped so high at the sound of that strange voice behind him that he fell flat on his back when he came down again. This set the voice laughing as a tall man, cloaked in grey from head to toe, stepped out of the trees.
Sam jumped to his feet and reached instinctively for his sword hilt, but when he realized that he no longer carried Sting with him, his hands closed into fists, "I will fight you with my bare hands if I must," he said, hoping he sounded braver than he felt, "who are you and what are you doing slinking around like a cat in lands that you have no business in?"
The stranger laughed fondly; "Put up your weapons Sam, you ass!" he said as he threw back his hood and stepped out of the shadows, "You always were too quick to judge a stranger!"
Sam's mouth dropped open and tears welled up in his eyes as he finally recognized the man.
"Strider!" he breathed as his hands dropped to his sides, "Good lord it's good to see you! What in Middle-earth are you doing in the Shire? Don't you have your own kingdom to rule?"
Aragorn laughed again and embraced the shocked and utterly flabbergasted hobbit. "Ah, Sam," he said, releasing him and clapping his hands on his friends shoulders, "of all the things I have known a hobbit to be, I have never known one to be forgetful. Do you not remember the last thing I said to you and the others when we parted company nearly two years ago?"
Sam, suddenly remembering his manners and the rank of this man standing before him, fell to one knee, bowed his head low and said in his best courtly voice, "My Lord, I remember well what you said to us that day. But if you will forgive my saying so, we did not expect you for many years yet."
Again Sam was privileged with Aragorn's deep, ringing laugh, "Get up Sam!" he said, raising the hobbit to his feet. "You are making a scene, my friend, and I have come in secret on important business. But, tell me, where were you off to at such an untimely hour of the morning, for anyone, let alone a hobbit? You should be tucked away warm in your bed, is something wrong?
Aragorn's expression changed to concern as he looked on Sam, for the first time noticing how tired and pale he looked.
"I do not know," replied Sam, looking thoughtful, "but it seems my feet were headed to Buckland, and I have learned that my feet are in the right of things more often that I."
"Then I suppose we must continue to follow your feet while they still have some common since," said Aragorn seriously, "for I have a bad feeling about this."
"As do I," replied Sam, as the two reunited companions turned and continued to walk through Hobbiton to Merry's house in Buckland.
****
It was nearly noon when San and Aragorn arrived at Brandy Hall later that day. Merry and Pippin sat silently at his kitchen table nibbling on rice cakes and sipping sulkily at their tea, when they heard the knock on the front door. They glanced at each other briefly over their cups, exchanged a look not of surprise, but of fearful understanding, and calmly left the room.
Although Sam had not expected to see Pippin there as well, he was not surprised to see him standing in the hall behind Merry when the door was opened.
When the resident hobbit of Brandy Hall saw Sam standing on his doorstep, a small smile touched his lips, and if he was surprised to see him he did not show it.
"Ah, Sam," he said, rather too cheerfully in his effort to act as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. "How nice to see you, lovely day eh? Won't you come-" he stopped and looked up at Sam's companion, having just that moment noticed him. Pippin gave a muffled yelp from the hall and whispered almost inaudibly, "Strider!" then fell silent, obviously unaware that he was gawking.
Merry did not seem as surprised as his young friend, though he was still a bit shocked. He recovered more quickly that Pippin did, however, and managed to find his voice as well. "Well met, Aragorn, my friend," he said, seeming to be the only one of the three who remembered to use his proper name.
"Well met, Meriadoc," ha replied, "Peregrin," he added nodding to Pippin who looked as though his eyes would role right out of his head. Aragorn was oddly formal to the last two members of the company, for he was looking into their faces and what he saw there made his fear rise to urgency.
"Well," Merry began, trying to make light of the awkward moment, though he knew he wasn't fooling anyone, "The Company has nearly all come together again! Did you bring our fearless duo?" The hobbit molded his lips into what he hoped was a grin, but his eyes showed, what looked to Sam, a mixture of continually growing fear, foreboding and immense relief.
Aragorn smiled kindly, but did not laugh as he had with Sam. "It seems the thing I feared has already begun," he said, lowering his voice as if someone could be listening. "Let us go inside, we have much to discuss."
The four companions filed into the cozy little hole and barred the door tightly behind them. But not before Aragorn stole one last look around and saw, without a doubt, two large, pale eyes watching them menacingly through the leaves of a nearby tree.
If the three hobbits from the Shire only knew what they were getting into when they woke up that morning, they would have gladly died in their sleep.
(Chapter 1)
"The Unexpected Guest"
By: Lady Elaine
(Aqua: Meaghan)
Sam sat up in bed, his eyes snapped wide in horror and sweat streaked his pale face. His vision swam with crimson horror and pale death in the shape of hundreds of menacing eyes. When the dark cloud lifted from his eyes, the terrified hobbit looked frantically around and saw, to his great relief, that he was in his own room at Bag End. His wife Rosie was sleeping peacefully next to him, and Elanor, as far as he could hear, was still sleeping soundly in the next room. Sam heaved a sigh of relief as he wiped away the tears that were uncontrollably slipping down his face.
Rose stirred in her sleep and sat up, she placed a loving hand on her husband's arm, "Those dreams again?" she whispered.
He turned slowly to look at her worried face and smiled weakly, "They were not as bad tonight," he said, reaching up to stroke her cheek. He lied of course, the dreams had no end and little mercy, he was afraid that they would haunt him forever. He shuddered as he remembered the grotesque feeling of the slimy, blood soaked hands of the orcs in his dream, prodding and poking at him as if he were some piece of roasting mutton. Oh, how he wished it were only a dream.
Sam had never told his wife, or anyone else for that matter, all the horrors he had seen in lands that no one even dared speak of. But the memories of them still haunted his dreams, and he had no idea how to stop them.
It seemed ages ago when he and Frodo were lost in Mordor without any hope of ever returning home, though it had only been two years. He wondered if Pippin or Merry had similar dreams, he needed to talk to someone who knew, someone who could still smell the gut wrenching stench of the orcs' rancid breath and see their horrid faced clear as day when they shut their eyes. He needed to talk to his friends.
The still fairly new resident of Bag End gazed out the little window that looked out to the north, the direction in which Rivendell lay and Lothlorien somewhere beyond that, and sighed happily, remembering the merriment the elves never seemed to lack. He had refused to sleep anywhere near the side of the house that looked out to the east, to the Land of Shadows that he utterly wished to forget.
The sun was still sleeping just below the horizon, and Sam thought that it looked as though the land had never been stripped of it's beautiful trees by Sharkey and his Dark men who had invaded their home those years ago. The gift The Lady Galadriel had given him worked wonders all over the Shire. Suddenly Sam thought of Frodo, and his heart gave a sorrowful leap. It had been five long months since his beloved master went off with Bilbo and Gandalf and the rest. Sam missed him deeply but knew that the former Ring Bearer was in a place where the Shadow could never again bring him pain.
****
Meanwhile, nearly 15 miles away, Merry's screams of terror echoed through the hall of the Brandybuck estate as he clawed desperately at the imaginary hands of his orc attackers. His free hand felt through the bedclothes, searching madly for the sword that was not there.
When he finally realized he was in his own room, the disgusted hobbit bolted out of bed to the washtub in the next room full of icy water from last night's bath, and plunged in his head.
****
While Merry was scrubbing the filth of his dream from his body, a certain Peregrin Took was a few miles away slashing madly at his curtains with an invisible sword.
He swung once, twice, three times, but lost is footing when he was preparing for another and fell to the floor with a valiant cry of defeat.
The fall was enough to jolt the poor, young hobbit out of his nightmare; he stood up feeling both terrified and very turned around.
Pippin, being the youngest member of the Company and feeling that something was wrong, though he didn't know what, wasted no time in dressing and running a pony nearly to death all the way to Brandy Hall. He wondered foolishly what he was going to say to poor Merry when he woke him up, and vaguely wondered why he had to be doing it at four o'clock in the morning, by Shire reckoning.
But when he reached Merry's door, he saw a light on in his room. 'Something is definitely wrong,' thought Pippin to himself, 'Merry would sleep for weeks if we would let him, what on earth is he doing up!' At that he dismounted, ran to the window and tapped on it softly.
Inside, Merry sprung lightly out of the chair in the corner, where he had been attempting to read, and crouched instinctively into a fighting stance, expecting to be bombarded by an army of hobbit eating orcs. But seeing Pippin's face, he quickly relaxed and went to let in his friend.
"Pippin, lad!" cried Merry when he lifted the window, "what on earth are you doing lurking around under peoples windows at this ghastly hour of the night!"
Pippin climbed through the window and stood to face his abnormally large friend, "Same reason why you are reading, I suppose," he said, seeing the book in Merry's hand.
Merry let the forced smile fade from his lips and gazed back at Pippin seriously. They both knew why the other was awake, they didn't know how they knew it, somehow they just did, and had it been a few years ago they would have laughed it off. But they were too changed by their last adventure that they were no longer able to do things exactly as they had before.
Finally Merry broke the gaze that they had held and turned back to the chair to set down his book. "What is happening to us Pippin?" he said, cupping his face in his hands, "Are we going mad?"
Pippin looked at his friend sadly, 'he looks older' he thought, 'old and tired, just like Frodo. But I guess we have all changed a bit in some way or another. How I wish Frodo were still with us.' With that thought he walked over to Merry's chair and placed a hand on his right arm. To his surprise the arm felt cold and dark, and he jerked back his hand with a cry, "Merry, your arm..."
Suddenly Merry felt a much too familiar, cold, piercing pain flow through his arm, the same arm that had pierced the dark hide of the Ringwraith King two years ago. He clutched it with his other hand and held it to his chest, but it did no good. Pippin threw himself to the floor and covered his head with his arms crying out with fear that it was happening again. Merry felt it as well, perhaps more even than poor Pippin. Something was happening, and though he could not see the sky above him, he knew, somehow he just knew that if he could, he would see a dark winged creature swooping over his house.
After a moment, Pippin lifted his head and cautiously looked at the ceiling before turning to Merry, who was still clutching his arm to his chest, his face screwed up in pain and utter terror.
"How---" he began, "How can one of them still be alive?"
Merry paled even more, as if he had just realized what this could mean and looked desperately out the window. "I - I don't know," he said, his voice shaking uncontrollably, "I really don't know."
****
Meanwhile, back in Hobbiton, Sam, who could not have gone back to sleep for the life of him, had gotten dressed and walked out the door. He did not know exactly where he was going, nor did he care, he just let his feet wander wherever they would. Sam's mind was a blur of dreams and reality, and he didn't quite know which was which. He wondered desperately why the dreams were getting worse, and why he suddenly felt this sickening feeling of dread, like something was about to happen. Why couldn't he just get over his fears and enjoy his life?
It was still a bit dark when the troubled hobbit set out and a little chilly but Sam could tell, from experience, that the sun would be up within the hour. He stuck his hands in his pockets and looked down at his feet as he continued to walk and let his thought wander.
****
It was some time later that Sam finally stopped and looked around as if he had just woken up while sleepwalking. He was surprised and alarmed to find that his feet had taken him off the road and in the direction of Buckland. The lone hobbit was standing in a large, grassy field on the edge of a grove of trees that cut through Hobbiton to Crickhollow. Sam laughed as he realized that he had absent-mindedly taken the exact rout that he, Frodo and Pippin had taken the night they had left Bag End, not knowing if they would ever see it again.
"Well, a fine mess you would have gotten yourself into, Sam Gamgee, if you had walked yourself all the way to Rivendell without knowing it!" he said to himself, laughing a little at the idea.
"I'm sure our merry friends would have been equally amused and laughed you right back home!"
Sam jumped so high at the sound of that strange voice behind him that he fell flat on his back when he came down again. This set the voice laughing as a tall man, cloaked in grey from head to toe, stepped out of the trees.
Sam jumped to his feet and reached instinctively for his sword hilt, but when he realized that he no longer carried Sting with him, his hands closed into fists, "I will fight you with my bare hands if I must," he said, hoping he sounded braver than he felt, "who are you and what are you doing slinking around like a cat in lands that you have no business in?"
The stranger laughed fondly; "Put up your weapons Sam, you ass!" he said as he threw back his hood and stepped out of the shadows, "You always were too quick to judge a stranger!"
Sam's mouth dropped open and tears welled up in his eyes as he finally recognized the man.
"Strider!" he breathed as his hands dropped to his sides, "Good lord it's good to see you! What in Middle-earth are you doing in the Shire? Don't you have your own kingdom to rule?"
Aragorn laughed again and embraced the shocked and utterly flabbergasted hobbit. "Ah, Sam," he said, releasing him and clapping his hands on his friends shoulders, "of all the things I have known a hobbit to be, I have never known one to be forgetful. Do you not remember the last thing I said to you and the others when we parted company nearly two years ago?"
Sam, suddenly remembering his manners and the rank of this man standing before him, fell to one knee, bowed his head low and said in his best courtly voice, "My Lord, I remember well what you said to us that day. But if you will forgive my saying so, we did not expect you for many years yet."
Again Sam was privileged with Aragorn's deep, ringing laugh, "Get up Sam!" he said, raising the hobbit to his feet. "You are making a scene, my friend, and I have come in secret on important business. But, tell me, where were you off to at such an untimely hour of the morning, for anyone, let alone a hobbit? You should be tucked away warm in your bed, is something wrong?
Aragorn's expression changed to concern as he looked on Sam, for the first time noticing how tired and pale he looked.
"I do not know," replied Sam, looking thoughtful, "but it seems my feet were headed to Buckland, and I have learned that my feet are in the right of things more often that I."
"Then I suppose we must continue to follow your feet while they still have some common since," said Aragorn seriously, "for I have a bad feeling about this."
"As do I," replied Sam, as the two reunited companions turned and continued to walk through Hobbiton to Merry's house in Buckland.
****
It was nearly noon when San and Aragorn arrived at Brandy Hall later that day. Merry and Pippin sat silently at his kitchen table nibbling on rice cakes and sipping sulkily at their tea, when they heard the knock on the front door. They glanced at each other briefly over their cups, exchanged a look not of surprise, but of fearful understanding, and calmly left the room.
Although Sam had not expected to see Pippin there as well, he was not surprised to see him standing in the hall behind Merry when the door was opened.
When the resident hobbit of Brandy Hall saw Sam standing on his doorstep, a small smile touched his lips, and if he was surprised to see him he did not show it.
"Ah, Sam," he said, rather too cheerfully in his effort to act as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. "How nice to see you, lovely day eh? Won't you come-" he stopped and looked up at Sam's companion, having just that moment noticed him. Pippin gave a muffled yelp from the hall and whispered almost inaudibly, "Strider!" then fell silent, obviously unaware that he was gawking.
Merry did not seem as surprised as his young friend, though he was still a bit shocked. He recovered more quickly that Pippin did, however, and managed to find his voice as well. "Well met, Aragorn, my friend," he said, seeming to be the only one of the three who remembered to use his proper name.
"Well met, Meriadoc," ha replied, "Peregrin," he added nodding to Pippin who looked as though his eyes would role right out of his head. Aragorn was oddly formal to the last two members of the company, for he was looking into their faces and what he saw there made his fear rise to urgency.
"Well," Merry began, trying to make light of the awkward moment, though he knew he wasn't fooling anyone, "The Company has nearly all come together again! Did you bring our fearless duo?" The hobbit molded his lips into what he hoped was a grin, but his eyes showed, what looked to Sam, a mixture of continually growing fear, foreboding and immense relief.
Aragorn smiled kindly, but did not laugh as he had with Sam. "It seems the thing I feared has already begun," he said, lowering his voice as if someone could be listening. "Let us go inside, we have much to discuss."
The four companions filed into the cozy little hole and barred the door tightly behind them. But not before Aragorn stole one last look around and saw, without a doubt, two large, pale eyes watching them menacingly through the leaves of a nearby tree.
If the three hobbits from the Shire only knew what they were getting into when they woke up that morning, they would have gladly died in their sleep.