A/N:Thank you guys for reading this! I hope you like it as much as my first LOTR fic! And to those of you that have reviewed--THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!!! You're what keeps me writing! You guys rock!!
***********
Sam collapsed against a tree, soaked in sweat and feeling dirtier than
he ever had before in his life. They had been forcing their way through
the forest for seven days since they had awaken to find their ponies slaughtered
and their food supply destroyed. They had subsisted on barely a mouthful
of water a day and whatever roots and leaves that Kerra and Sam mutually
decided were safe for consumption. It had been a hard hike, slashing through
the brush that seemed to be trying to ensnare them constantly, and they
forced themselves on at a starvation pace in the hopes that they could
reach the edge of the forest before what little water they had left ran
out.
Hope was fading fast.
He silently volunteered for the first watch. All talking had stopped after the desperate race through the Molasba Forest had began, with all communication deteriorating into hand signals. Merry and Pippin curled up near each other to ward off the chill of the Molasba nights as Kerra and Frodo quietly swept the small grove they were hiding in for anything that would hint at an enemy presence. When that small duty was over, they too lay down for rest, and were asleep almost instantly.
Sam was left alone in the vapid semidarkness within the grove, with only his thoughts for company, which soon turned bleak and despairing as he realized the depth of the danger they were in. Even if they did escape the Molasba Forest, what was to say that Lanal's forces would not be waiting for them? Who had told them that this foolhardy mission would ever work? For all they knew, they were racing forward only to join their loved ones in death.
His eyes fell on Frodo as the dark-haired hobbit was sleeping and his thoughts turned to wonder at Frodo's devotion to him in his time of need. So many believed that only Sam's half of the relationship was of the sacrificing type, but all Sam had to do was look at Frodo to know that nothing could be farther from the truth. Frodo had left the comfort and peace of the Undying Lands to help Sam and Kerra in their journey, with no possible gain for himself; he had done it simply because of his love for Sam.
Love...there it was again, working its elusive magic on his tattered heart. Thinking back to their first journey over the blasted land of Mordor, Sam could see, with no arrogance, that he had been the one to support Frodo through those dark, ashy days of hell; now, it seemed, that Frodo was returning the good deed. But at what cost? Would he lose those nearest to him to that bitch in Mordor?
That hideous thought brought Anemosi's face up hot and close in his mind. Already it seemed as if another seventy years had passed since he had seen her, or held her...and it was unbearable. They had had so little time together, and now they were separated again, possibly forever. It had been bad enough before, not knowing if she had been slaughtered as soon as she had closed the door, but to have to wonder again if she was crying out for him, or if she was already gone, or if she had somehow given in...
No! That did not bear thinking about. His thoughts were in a whirl, flashes of agony and despair and worry and exhaustion sparking in his brain as visions of Elanor, of Merrie, of Frodo, of Kerra, of Anemosi fled across his eyesight. In desperation, he sent out a wailing prayer to the Lady of the Fey, hoping that she would aid him as she had so often aided Anemosi in the past.
Lady, he prayed, I know I'm not one of your folk, but I can't see as there's anyone else that can help us. Anemosi...his mind choked at even the thought of her name, but he swallowed hard and went on.
Lady, my Anemosi always believed in you. She always said that you'd never do anything without a reason, and that you were kind, and that you loved your folk. And maybe...I thought that maybe, because we both love her, you'll help me.
Almost before he had finished his thought, it was as if a huge hand had wiped his mind clean and empty. He would have been terrified if his thoughts had been his own, and he was vaguely conscious, more in his body than in his mind, of how Anemosi must have felt when the Lady spoke to her. He did not hear the voice in his head so much as he saw it, a myriad display of color and shapes and speed that he could barely remember when it was over, much less describe.
Samwise Gamgee of the Shire, said the voice in his head. I hear, and I answer. Do you not think that I have been watching you through your quest? I will guide you in your time of need.
Thank you, he moaned inwardly. He was out of control, falling into a dry abyss, when the voice of the Lady spoke again.
I forget, Samwise, that you are not used to my voice. You should be aware of my power...you have seen it before.
Then the voice seemed to change tone, and it became gentle and caressing.
I am glad you called to me, it said kindly. You have suffered much, and still stayed true to the cause, as painful as it may have been. I will reward you for your selflessness.
There's no need to do that--he thought before the voice interrupted him in a shower of sparks.
Do not reject my gift, Samwise. I offer it freely; any other would have to work for it.
Aye, he thought, chastised.
Sleep now, Samwise. I shall be guarding you tonight.
His eyes slammed shut with a will of their own. Before he could grow fearful or worried, he was deep in sleep, a slumber filled with the sound of rushing rain and a low, thrumming hum.
I give you, said the voice as it faded away, perfect beauty.
The darkness in his mind was clearing, shapes were forming out of the blank space. He was lost in wonderment as a soothing warmth crept into his body, sweeping away pains that he had long grown used to. Sam seemed to open his mind on a rainy day in a lush garden, redolent with scent and color. It was so familiar to his astonished brain, but he could barely believe it when he realized just what this garden was.
Bless me, it's Siobhangé!
All the beautiful days of roses and sun and warmth were flowing back, a river of joy that flowed through and around him. He looked around, scarcely aware that he was sleeping and not really in the garden, and his eyes moved joyfully from rosebush to rosebush. He remembered the hours he had spent here with Anemosi--how could he forget them? They were as dear to him as his own heart, or hands. In that garden, he had not been just a gardener, and she had not been just the Lady Radika; they had only been themselves, without any extraneous matter to clutter up their essences. Together, they had been complete, and time was reduced to a dry, impotent idea that had no meaning.
How could the Lady of the Fey have known how deeply he longed for that time? He could only breathe a silent prayer of thanks that she had discerned his most passionate desire.
In the dream, he walked through the sweet rain towards the rosebushes. They had thorns, but even the sharpest edges could not prick his hands as he pulled the branches apart, wondering at what may lay in its depths. What precious treasure were those thorns protecting?
Sam's gaze seemed to fall forever into the darkness at the center of the rosebush before a glimmer of silver appeared. It deepened, widened, glowed, and he realized that he had always known what lay at the center of the garden.
Sam nearly cried out as Anemosi, laying prone on her back, opened her eyes into the rain that fell past him. The raindrops sprinkled her skin like a careless shower of diamonds, and she smiled, oh, how she smiled, and reached out her arms to him, forever yearning, forever seeking. His hands met her, and suddenly she was in his arms, the thorns and rain forgotten, and he was kissing her as he had never done before. He was beginning to believe, in spite of himself, to believe that he was truly in the gardens of Siobhangé, and that he was truly kissing Anemosi, when he felt her body melting away against him. Already she was as insubstantial as the rain, and in a breathe she had vanished on the wind, her roses and her thorns accompanying her into the dream-world from which she had come.
He started awake back in the eerie world of the Molasba Forest. His four companions were still sleeping, but his heart was pounding hard in his chest, and sweat was covering his body in a cooling layer. Sam felt a vague shiver run through his body as the Lady withdrew herself completely from his mind, leaving him alone in his own body once more. Her message and her command, however, were clear as mountain air, and Sam was strengthened. His dream, achingly painful as it was to recall it, was one he would treasure for the rest of his days.
Far, far away, Anemosi was jarred awake. Her breath came short
in her throat, and for a moment Brule thought she was foreseeing another
of Lanal's attacks, but that was not the case. For Anemosi, though too
far away to know it, had dreamed the same dream.
