This is just a collection of little stories that were too small to post
separately.
Disclaimer: They don't belong to me… Yadda, yadda, yadda…etc
Frodo, in the Shire,
Sam, I think of him very often now, he lives here and I suppose its only natural, but there are many other reasons I do this. More often it is his devotion to me in Mordor that comes to mind. Even now the lad must be quaking in his sleep, he seems to know when those dark thoughts cross my mind, even when I think I don't let on. He seems connected somehow. Many times we have been laughing and talking with Merry and Pippin when suddenly I have a remembrance of one of those dark cold nights and soon a work- roughened hand is touching mine, he knows.
He once told me his side of what happened when he found me under Shelob's poison, thinking me dead. I cannot imagine the pain. For me to find 'him' in that way, would I have taken the courage to bear the ring on my own to Mt. Doom? Even more, would I have sworn to come back to his dead body, unable to carry him away and slowly allow my self to die beside him? Sam would have lived up to his promise and more. Sometimes I picture him, black and worn from the horrible journey to Mt. Doom. Having destroyed the ring he returns to my pale lifeless body. Unable to leave me alone even in death, lying beside me, clutching my head to his breast, merely waiting to die, looking beyond the darkness to where we would meet again after death.
But I'll never forget how it really happened. I could here him singing down below that awful tower, my vain attempts to answer, and then his return. How bleak and meaningless it all would have been without Sam, my Sam, dearest of friends.
Sam, in Rivendell,
I looked around the beautiful elven room in awe ounce again, we had been recuperating a while in Rivendell, but it wasn't often they could take me from his side. He was sleeping then, it was very late. I had sat up out of restlessness only after paternally sending dear Frodo to his bed. He wasn't fully physically recovered yet and his sleep was dear to him. Though I knew in my heart his emotions would never heal completely. That got me to thinking of my self. I was with him the entire way! How was I to heal? How was I to pick up and go on? Then it came to me like a clear silver bell, as I watched my soul mates' slumber. Yes that's it, that's why we both felt the pricking of needles at our souls. It was the sewing of our souls together with the threads of pain, loss, and hurt and then of comfort. Yes that is how I am to heal.
1
Disclaimer: They don't belong to me… Yadda, yadda, yadda…etc
Frodo, in the Shire,
Sam, I think of him very often now, he lives here and I suppose its only natural, but there are many other reasons I do this. More often it is his devotion to me in Mordor that comes to mind. Even now the lad must be quaking in his sleep, he seems to know when those dark thoughts cross my mind, even when I think I don't let on. He seems connected somehow. Many times we have been laughing and talking with Merry and Pippin when suddenly I have a remembrance of one of those dark cold nights and soon a work- roughened hand is touching mine, he knows.
He once told me his side of what happened when he found me under Shelob's poison, thinking me dead. I cannot imagine the pain. For me to find 'him' in that way, would I have taken the courage to bear the ring on my own to Mt. Doom? Even more, would I have sworn to come back to his dead body, unable to carry him away and slowly allow my self to die beside him? Sam would have lived up to his promise and more. Sometimes I picture him, black and worn from the horrible journey to Mt. Doom. Having destroyed the ring he returns to my pale lifeless body. Unable to leave me alone even in death, lying beside me, clutching my head to his breast, merely waiting to die, looking beyond the darkness to where we would meet again after death.
But I'll never forget how it really happened. I could here him singing down below that awful tower, my vain attempts to answer, and then his return. How bleak and meaningless it all would have been without Sam, my Sam, dearest of friends.
Sam, in Rivendell,
I looked around the beautiful elven room in awe ounce again, we had been recuperating a while in Rivendell, but it wasn't often they could take me from his side. He was sleeping then, it was very late. I had sat up out of restlessness only after paternally sending dear Frodo to his bed. He wasn't fully physically recovered yet and his sleep was dear to him. Though I knew in my heart his emotions would never heal completely. That got me to thinking of my self. I was with him the entire way! How was I to heal? How was I to pick up and go on? Then it came to me like a clear silver bell, as I watched my soul mates' slumber. Yes that's it, that's why we both felt the pricking of needles at our souls. It was the sewing of our souls together with the threads of pain, loss, and hurt and then of comfort. Yes that is how I am to heal.
1