Time passed slowly among in Siobhangé, and it was without
any notion of time passing in the outside world that the Fellowship spent
the next few days. Sam and Merry healed swiftly under Anemosi's care, and
for the most part the hobbits were free to run wild about the city. The
younger fey children adored them, and listened with huge eyes to Frodo's
tales of Bilbo's adventures. Sam, for his part, was happy for his master's
newfound joy and peace. Here, among the merry, wild fey, the burden of
the Ring was lifted from Frodo and he was once again as he was back in
the Shire. His blue eyes were always laughing and joyous, and his face
had lost its transparent appearance.
*I wish we could stay here forever,* thought Sam as he wondered along
in the rose bushes in Lord Radik's gardens. He had felt a pressing need
to get away from the action within the house, and now that he was allowed
to walk about as he pleased, he spent much of his time admiring the beauty
of the gardens. He was still not far enough away from the house, however,
to be oblivious to the shouts of rage that floated down towards him. Apparently
the fey were harder to "liberate" food from than Farmer Maggot, and Merry
and Pippin had been caught in the pantry once more.
He chuckled, and realized that he was swiftly growing tired. The days
had passed pleasantly enough, but a dark spot had prevented him from enjoying
himself completely. Anemosi, after sharing the meal with him in his room
a few days before, had taken to her bed and stayed there in a restless
fever, the after-effects of the power spent upon healing Merry and himself.
He missed her company and delicious laughter, and felt a surge of guilt
as he thought of how his health had been obtained at her expense. Kerra
had assured him over and over that she was going to be fine, but he worried
at it much as a dog worries a bone.
He reached the end of the gardens and wearily turned back towards the
house. He entered in through a side door that, unfortunately, led him painfully
close to the kitchens. Iaka, the head cook, barreled out of the door and
nearly ran him down as she pursued Merry and Pippin. She paused for a moment
to heave him to his feet, brushing him off as she uttered various evil-sounding
curses against the two hobbits and their descendants. Sam barely choked
back a laugh as a particularly obscene phrase passed her lips.
"Well, Master Samwise, at least there's two of you folk who aren't
good-for-nothin', lazy, connivin' little imps! They've raided my pantry
for the third time today, and no one's taken up Miss Anemosi's lunch yet.
Poor girl, she's right tired out, and she'll wake up soon with no victuals
as to eat!" Iaka shook her head venomously and started to walk away. "Those
cheeky little devils! When I get my hands on 'em, they'll rue the day they
set foot in my kitchen!"
"Iaka," Sam stammered shyly. "I'll take the food up to her...I know
you've got lots to do, and I'm as glad as anything to be a help to you."
He couldn't believe the words that had popped out of his mouth. Was his
need to be near Anemosi that strong?
Iaka sniffed. "There's no one 'ceptin' me and Lord Radik and Healer
Drake that are 'sposed to be visitin' her, Master Samwise. But, seein'
as you're so helpful and useful like, I'd much appreciate it." She retreated
into the kitchen briefly to return with a small tray of food. She handed
it to Sam and shooed him off.
"Remember, Master Samwise, keep quiet, and try not to let anyone
see you as goin' up there! 'Sposed to be left alone, she is, and don't
you tarry too long!"
Now, as everyone knows, Samwise Gamgee is not exactly cut out for stealth.
He simply climbed the stairs to her rooms, hoping that no one would
stop to question his presence in this branch of the house. He was in luck,
and with a sigh of relief he pushed open the curtain to step into her room.
He left the tray beside the door for her to retrieve later, but as he was
leaving a noise from the bed
She was sleeping fitfully, groaning and stirring on the bed. Sweat
had soaked her light gown, and even though the bed was lightly covered
she had thrown off the sheets onto the floor. He crept over to the bed,
trying not to awaken her, and sat himself down gently beside her. Warmth stirred in his heart. She was too beautiful, too wonderful...not
even his precious gardens back home in the Shire held so much pleasure
for him as did one glance at Anemosi.
*Now, Samwise Gamgee, that orc stuff must've gotten to your brain!
Soon you'll be spouting poems and wearing a crown o'flowers.* He shook
his head in wonderment at this new tenderness within him, and almost without
thinking took up her thin hand in his. It was warm, and soft, and he stroked
it gently. He was nervous, yes, nervous that she would wake up at any moment
and shout at him to get away, but something deep inside him told she would
never tell him to leave her. He drew her hand to his lips and kissed it
gently, then touched each fingertip to his lips as well. Staring at her
again, her eyes closed and mouth slightly open, he was overcome with a
need to be as near to her as he could. He lowered his head to her face
and brushed his lips against hers, and when that drew no negative response
from her, he kissed her more fully, tasting her for the first time.
It came as a shock, then, when she responded. Her lips, at first still under his, began to return his attentions gently, then with more passion. He froze, terrified, and pulled away. Her eyes were open and startled.
"Sam!" she breathed. She had paled considerably, and the light sheen of sweat on her skin made her look pearlized in the cool gloom of her room. Her expression was unreadable.
"Oh, Anemosi...I-I'm sorry..." he mumbled, feeling a blazing hot blush flooding his cheeks. He had an overwhelming urge to run from the room, but embarrassment held him frozen beside her. They stared at each other for a brief moment, not speaking until she shivered violently. In a matter of seconds, she had gone from feverish to freezing cold.
"Oh Sam, I'm so cold all of a sudden!" She fell back onto the bed, shaking uncontrollably. Her hand clutched his wrist tightly. "Don't go! Please!" Her eyes were large and afraid, and glassy with pain.
"Hush, Anemosi, I won't leave you!" That was all well and good, but his company wouldn't help her for long; what could he do? He reached down to the floor and picked up the sheets, laying them gently over her body. Real worry began to form as she moaned, curling up under the sheets as if to try and capture the fleeting warmth of her own body.
Back in the Shire, when a newborn lamb or calf had been found in the dead of winter, Sam had often taken it to bed with him, holding its small body to warm it with the heat from his own. In his simple country mind, and seeing no other alternative (though, one can be sure, if he had wanted to find, or had even bothered to look for, blankets, he could have solved his problem that way.), he slid under the sheets and drew her against him. She was like ice against him. As her shivering grew, he drew her closer against himself and closed his eyes, waiting for it to pass.
She knew what he had done, vaguely, through the cold. Her mind was in a spiral, her immediate discomfort taking precedence over this new twist of events. As she began to warm up, she was happy to stay as she was, with his breath stirring the soft hairs behind her ear. She felt sleep descending upon her, but she knew that as long as she stayed in Sam's arms, she would sleep peacefully.
He didn't move. To move would be to disturb her, and she needed her rest. *Bless me, I need my rest too,* he thought drowsily. The combined warmth of their bodies was soothing. The last thing he remembered as he slipped into slumber was the feel of that one, burning kiss.