by Mainecoon
Author's Note: Concerning the inspiration for this story, and the poem at the end of Chapter 2. This story was inspired by Certain Events of October of 2001. The details of these Events I shall not attempt to record here, as the story would end up longer than the fanfic I am trying to present. But in short, certain things conspired between my best friend and I which neither of us had any control over, and it was Weird, and Creepy, and scared the [expletive deleted] out of both of us, and essentially, it involved a near-death experience and my awareness of said experience before it was verbally related to me. The poem at the end of Chapter 2 is an edited, abridged version of a poem I wrote to her at the very instant she was being wheeled into an operating room. The sentiments expressed herein by Samwise are similar to things I thought due to the side-effects of what I can only describe as a bizarre psychic bonding experience. More I shall not say, as it concerns nobody but myself, Pip, and God.
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CHAPTER 1: Aunie
The tips of the leaves in the woods near the edge of the Shire were just beginning to take on the gorgeous pink and orange shades of autumn. Clouds darkened the sky above, but a cool breeze rustling through the grass made the scene more sad than foreboding. The trees spent days like this remembering times long past, before their playful grass was tended by hobbit hands, before their rolling hills were inhabited by hole-dwellers any larger than moles.
The trees were not the only ones remembering. Samwise Gamgee joined them that day. He wandered aimlessly through the trees, his mind too preoccupied to notice the subtle beauty of his surroundings. He was brooding; and brooding was an art at which most hobbits excelled, though they didn't realize it. Sam was no exception. Heedless of the threat of rain, he had set out before sunrise that morning with just a few provisions. He left a note for Rosie telling her not to worry if he wasn't back before the next day, then started walking, letting his feet lead the way.
It came as no surprise when he suddenly realized he had no idea where he was. The woods were most certainly still within the boundaries of the Shire, but this was not a part that Sam could recall having ever traveled in… unbelievable as that fact was. A small brook trickled nearby, its edges lined with small boulders. A glance towards the sky told him it was long past midday. He didn't particularly feel like turning back the way he came, and for the moment he had lost whatever had initially inspired him to keep going forward. He had nothing to do but compromise: so he climbed onto one of the smooth rocks at the edge of the brook and sat there, legs crossed and chin cupped in his hands, with no intention of moving at any time within the foreseeable future. He thus commenced to brood further. After all, practice makes perfect.
He was not there long before a peculiar splashing noise interrupted his reverie. He looked up to see a large otter perched on a rock at the opposite end of the brook. It was immediately obvious that this was no ordinary otter: ordinary otters do not wear a green vest, as this one did; nor did they mimic expressions with such uncanny accuracy. The otter stared at Sam, her face pulled into a deep frown under hooded eyes. As soon as she realized Sam was looking at her, she crossed her eyes and scrunched her nose up. She looked so grotesquely comical that Sam burst out laughing.
"There!" the otter said. "Got you! I knew you couldn't keep up that grumping long. Not even my great aunt could look so completely miserable as long as you have, and she was very, very good at being miserable."
"Well, I've a good reason!" Sam said defensively.
"Oh, pike-fishes!" the otter answered. She leaped into the water but was back out before Sam could call out to her, this time on Sam's side of the brook. Sam held his arms up to shield himself from the droplets of water as the otter shook herself dry. "My uncle Nelli's knees, poppycock, rot, Mordor's flowers, pshaw, fluffkins, bumperbottoms, and other dismissive exclamations." She leaped onto his rock and sat balanced on her back legs, her front paws held before her in a posture that resembled Rosie's habit of crossing her arms when she was irritated. "I'll bet you haven't a thing to be miserable about!"
Sam opened his mouth to protest once more. "I… Now wait just a moment, why should I tell you?"
"Because," the otter said matter-of-factly, "I've just gone through the trouble of amusing and annoying you out of you deep blue funk. The least you could do is give me a reason why I did that."
"Perhaps I haven't got a reason."
"You said you did."
"Perhaps I lied."
"Perhaps you didn't."
"Perhaps… Oh, this is absurd! I refuse to answer a single question until I know who wants to know."
The otter rolled her eyes. "I do!"
"I know that!"
"Well why did you ask, then?"
By this time, Sam was quite thoroughly fed up with the creature. The only reason he didn't simply stand up and walk away was because he was still quite lost. "Because," he explained, a trifle more calmly, "I meant to ask you who you are."
"Oh! Well, why didn't you, then?"
Sam gave her a sour look.
"All right, all right! My name's Aunie." She hopped up onto her toes and gave a little bow.
"I see…"
"Well?"
"Well what?"
"I'm Aunie, you're…"
"Samwise Gamgee." Sam nodded his head, not in the mood to imitate her perky chivalry.
"Really??" The otter's eyes widened. "The Sam Gamgee?"
"Last I knew, there was only one," Sam said, confused.
"But you're a hero! A true and real hero! What on Middle-Earth are you doing skulking about the woods? You ought to be… doing hero things!"
"Like what?" Sam raised his eyebrows.
"Like… attending grand feasts, flirting with beautiful maidens…" Aunie threw her paws up and spun around. "Galloping into the sunset on your brave steed, conquering unjust nations for the good of the people, committing deeds of foolish courage and facing certain death, asking for a reward only that some princess allow you to look into her eyes…"
"Pardon my interrupting, miss Aunie, but..."
"Not miss! Just Aunie, if you please." She stopped prancing to sit directly in front of Sam. "My mother taught me a trick to know when to call somebody 'miss'. See, it's only miss so-and-something if they're better than you, and if they are, then you miss them when they go away, because everybody wants to be around people who are better. Right? Or, you know, if there's a girl you fancy (my mum told my brothers this, not me), then you call her miss because you'd miss her even more. Well, it seems to me, sir hobbit, even if you weren't a hero, I'd be no better to you than this rock we're sitting on, and you certainly don't know me well enough to miss me if I went away."
Sam looked at her for a long moment. Aunie flicked her tail with impatience.
"Haven't you got anything at all to say?" she asked.
"You. Are. Completely. Mad," Sam pronounced with finality.
"I was only trying to help. You needn't get snippy." She turned away as if to leave. Sam suddenly realized that despite her endless stream of chattering, he rather enjoyed having her company.
"Wait!" he said. She turned around and glared at him.
"What, didn't I turn around properly?"
Sam sighed. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "It's just… I've got a lot on my mind…"
"Well, if you'd just told me what the matter is, you could have avoided a lot of trouble."
"You're not going to let it go, are you?"
"Nope," Aunie answered cheerfully. "Besides, I've never seen you around here before, so I expect that means you're lost. Right?"
Sam nodded.
"Then that means you can't leave here unless I show you the way. Right?"
"And I suppose that means you won't show me the way until I tell you the names of all the plants in the woods, and all the stones in the brook, and all the stars in the-"
"No! I just want to know what's the matter with you."
Sam narrowed his eyes at her. She stared back, her dark brown eyes deep and round yet somehow very much like hobbit eyes. He stared into her, the past her, and finally spoke.
"If you've heard of me, I suppose you've heard of Mr. Frodo…"
Aunie nodded, but did not speak.
"…Well, he's been acting strangely of late. He's always been a bit… oh, I don't know… peculiar, in his way. Always been like he don't belong in the Shire… more elf than hobbit, nearly. But since we got back, and even more so in the past few weeks, he's been downright odd. There's something troubling him. It's always on his mind. I can tell. The way he looks at things…. Sad, like they remind him of something he lost, if you take my meaning. I see him sometimes just staring down the road. He'll just look and look until I don't think he sees anything at all. And always so sad, he is…"
"And it worries you because he doesn't tell you?" Aunie asked.
Sam nodded. "I love him," he murmured. "He's my best friend. I always thought… I thought he knew he could trust me with anything, you know?"
"Why don't you just ask him what's the matter?"
"I've tried," Sam said hopelessly. "He tells me the same thing every time. 'It's nothing, Sam. Don't worry yourself about me. I'm just tired, that's all.' I know it's not true. He knows I know it. But he won't say anything else."
Aunie frowned in thought. "Have you told him you love him?"
"Of course, I…"
"I mean really told him? So it sinks in? I mean, have you pounded it into his skull with a metal pot?"
"Well… no, not quite like that, I don't think."
"You ought to. I've found it's hard to get a point across unless you throttle it."
"What, the point, or the person you're making it to?"
Aunie grinned. "See, you're really not so miserable! If you were, you wouldn't make jokes."
Sam shook his head. "Wrong again. Maybe your kind, whatever creature you are, isn't the same, but my ol' Gaffer always told me if you don't laugh, you'll only end up crying. 'Course, usually you end up crying anyway…"
"Aw, buck up." Aunie pawed his cheek softly. "Come on, I'll show you the way, then you tell your Frodo what's what. Right?"
"If you say so…"
"Well, come on then."
…….
Though the miles stretch on before you
Past snow mountains and sea foam,
Let these words be ever with you:
You are always half way home.
It's no secret that I tell you,
No half-truth or riddled lie.
Home is always there inside you.
It's a flame that cannot die.
It's the music in your laughter,
It's the beating of your heart,
It's the safety you let go of
When a quest's about to start.
It's the courage you find waiting
When you face your greatest fears,
It's the light your eyes find shining
When you can't see through your tears.
There's no distance you can measure,
Whether near or far you roam,
Great enough to take you further than
Halfway away from home.
…….
