It was after reading the fanfic "The Samwise Within" by Mainecoone aka
Halfwest one day that I realized Sam's thoughts of suicide after Frodo's
encounter with Shelob and wondered what if he really did it. Yes this will
be dark, brooding, morbid, gloomy, somber, solemn, melancholy, shadowy, and
enigmatic. Not to mention scary and horribly horribly sad. Samlovers out
there I am one too please don't kill me for this one. PLEASE I NEED
FEEDBACK!
~
Sam lowered his sword and breathed heavily. But he had no time to relish his victory over Shelob or seek the creature Gollum, as quickly as sensible thoughts made their way through the dissipating, blind rage that had taken his mind and body, revenge seemed useless. He sprang forward, crawling desperately, to his master's side. All was still and silent.
"Master, dear master!" Sam cried as he reached Frodo's side. His desperate voice answered only by the heavy silence and menacing darkness.
It was so dark that Sam could almost touch it, taste it, weigh its heavy burden on his shoulders. He was crawling in a void of black nothingness that pressed menacingly at the corners of his mind. He could barely make out his master's still figure just before him. As the darkness pressed Sam drew out the phial of Galadriel like a sword to protect him from the living shadow. A gleaming light burst forth and vanquished the darkness around him.
There before him lay his master, wrapped tightly in pale cords like a small child tucked in for a night's sleep. Frodo seemed at peace, his tranquil face resting in its light of elvish beauty. He was deathly pale, the light of the starglass giving his features a moonlit glow.
"Master, dear master!" Sam cried again. Frodo did not speak, he heard no voice and lay still as death. Sam held his breath. "Frodo! Mr. Frodo!"
It was the stone silence that answered that scared Sam the most. He drew out Sting and cut the bonds that held his master. Sam's mind raced, his heart let out a soulful cry. He bent, not wanting to touch his dear master for fear it would bring home to him the cold, harsh reality his mind did not want to believe. He bent, slowly, and laid his head on Frodo's breast. His mind desperately hoping for that low hum of life. A light flutter or slow thud, calming and reassuring him that life still stirred inside his master's body, there was none. Still as stone, breath and bone.
Sam moved his ears to Frodo's mouth, praying to hear a light rasp of cold, rattled breath, shaken as it has been of late, as if a heavy burden pressed on his lungs. Not even that heartbreaking, pathetic, gasp of life that clung Frodo to this world would stir. Silent stillness in the dark of night.
Sam rose, his wide, fearful eyes meeting Frodo's still and placid face once more. It seemed a pale green in the light of the starglass. Sam put his trembling hands to Frodo's forehead, then touched his fingertips to Frodo's wrist, no warmth or gentle throbbing could be found. All was still and cold.
"Mr. Frodo! Frodo!"
Silence.
"Oh please wake up! Don't go where I can't follow!"
Stillness and cold.
"Please wake up! Don't you hear me! It's your Sam calling you! Please wake up!"
His echoing voice rang it's sorrow and despair in the emptiness of Shelob's lair. It was then that the blind fury and rage that had set upon Sam in his moment against Shelob returned with all its potency. He gripped Sting and cursed loudly, his voice echoing in agony. He stabbed the air and stones around him, he cried out, his heart screaming in anguish.
Darkness slowly crept back into Sam's mind and he dropped Sting immediately, running to Frodo's side again. Frodo lay as he was left, cold and still, like a figure of elvish beauty frozen under an icy pond. Sam brushed a dark curl from Frodo's face but nothing stirred. This was the final stab into Sam. He knew. The image that was given to him in Galadriel's mirror from what seemed an age ago, returned to him. Frodo laying still, under a dark cliff, in a serene sleep. A sleep from which there is no waking.
"He's dead." Sam's words whispered in a hollow coldness. "Not asleep. Dead." The words had a finality to them that sent a cold shiver down Sam's spine and stung him, the pain never subsiding.
It was those words that brought a dark night into his heart that the phial of Galadriel could not slay. He hung his head low, and drew his grey hood over his face in mourning. Darkness crept and killed everything that had ever lived in Sam; hope, light, friendship, faithfulness. But with it died fear. He was no longer afraid of the darkness that was slowly consuming him and whether he sat there in deep despair for minutes, hours, eternities, it did not matter. He lifted his head, tears glittering down his face like hundreds of tiny, dying stars as they landed in his hands and faded into the gloom. What could he do? He could not turn back. He could not go on. No, such a journey would be a forever stumble into dark despair and loneliness only destined to fail in the end. He knew this. He was not chosen, the Ring was given to Frodo, surely he would fail. He'd die long before he even reached the slopes of Mount Doom, if he wasn't dying already. Inside was dead and dark and the phial of Galadriel was just an intruding light in his forever night. No more comfort, hope, faith. It was all for naught. The quest was destined for doom the second they stepped out of Rivendell, perhaps even the Shire.
He could seek vengeance. Once the dark blood of Gollum is spilled over this bleak landscape it will give him this bittersweet sense of closure with which he could die. And die he would, that he knew. That was what he was meant to do. Die in this forsaken land of darkness and shadow. But with perhaps his secure sense of closure watching the blood of Gollum soak the scorched, dry ground. No, that would be no good. It was not worth leaving his master's side for. It could not bring his master back. But nothing will. They had better both be dead together. The thought echoed in Sam's mind.
"We had better both be dead together. Though that too, a lonely journey. It would bring an end to this suffering." Sam's eyes searched the darkness for an answer. None came. His heart was silenced with overwhelming grief that threatened to kill him slowly and painfully. He might as well just end it there.
His eyes fell on Sting, the smooth metal a soothing burn to vanquish the freezing coldness inside of him. Empty no more. What lies behind the tip of the sword where all brave and valiant knights may travel? Sam, in his own eyes, was neither brave nor valiant, but there in lies the end of his journey. The journey to the tip of the sword, to feel it's metal fill you, and an empty fall off a black brink into nothingness, and lie beside his master- forever more.
He lifted Sting, watching it shine and flicker it's blue icy light. He looked at everything as if he was seeing it for the first time, but truly his last. The starglass, so bright and full, as contrast to him, dark and empty. The dark cliffs, so malevolent and brooding, watching him. He held out his arms so that Sting would slide straight through his hollow, aching chest when he thrust his arms back in. He sighed, his breath ragged. His gaze at last fell on his master's fair face, still and serene in it's tranquil pose of elven light. Just asleep, a peaceful sleep, from which there was no waking. Sam breathed again, Sting almost touching his chest, pricking at his skin. A moments pain and then no more, this cold anguish in his torn heart would soon be gone. A moments hesitation, did Frodo stir? Sam's heart stopped as he watched his master intently. He did not blink, waiting in cold torment for some sign of life. He received none, not a stir, flutter of heart, slow breath, stillness. Sam cursed his eyes for showing him something he only wished was true but was not, a cruel trick of his mind. No more tricks. It would be done with soon.
"Farewell, master, perhaps we will meet shortly. I am sorry I have failed you."
Sam fell forward into Sting's grasp. Darkness filled his world, the pain subsided into a warm numbness and then- nothing. The night that lay perpetually in his heart lifted with a veil of mist as bright white light penetrated his clouded vision, and- no more.
~
~I hated doing that! I don't know how such a dark thought came into my mind but I wish it had never been! As I was nearing Sam's death I almost gave up on this, I love Sam, I never thought I'd kill him. What drove me to this!?!? Please don't hurt me I love Sam just as the rest of you but the second I set this task out for me I knew there was no turning back. Now I know you're all saying "And Frodo!?!? He's gonna wake up and then what!?!?!" I have my plans for the rest of this don't worry just a warning now it will be dark and not happy. Who know's I may destroy Middle- Earth!!!!! Who knows what I'm capable of. If you are looking for a happy fluffy ending TURN BACK NOW! I will update according to my reactions. PLEASE DON'T HURT ME!! ::cowers:: I never meant to hurt anyone. I just started it and it got way out of control!! ::hides::~ FEEDBACK PLEASE! ~
~
Sam lowered his sword and breathed heavily. But he had no time to relish his victory over Shelob or seek the creature Gollum, as quickly as sensible thoughts made their way through the dissipating, blind rage that had taken his mind and body, revenge seemed useless. He sprang forward, crawling desperately, to his master's side. All was still and silent.
"Master, dear master!" Sam cried as he reached Frodo's side. His desperate voice answered only by the heavy silence and menacing darkness.
It was so dark that Sam could almost touch it, taste it, weigh its heavy burden on his shoulders. He was crawling in a void of black nothingness that pressed menacingly at the corners of his mind. He could barely make out his master's still figure just before him. As the darkness pressed Sam drew out the phial of Galadriel like a sword to protect him from the living shadow. A gleaming light burst forth and vanquished the darkness around him.
There before him lay his master, wrapped tightly in pale cords like a small child tucked in for a night's sleep. Frodo seemed at peace, his tranquil face resting in its light of elvish beauty. He was deathly pale, the light of the starglass giving his features a moonlit glow.
"Master, dear master!" Sam cried again. Frodo did not speak, he heard no voice and lay still as death. Sam held his breath. "Frodo! Mr. Frodo!"
It was the stone silence that answered that scared Sam the most. He drew out Sting and cut the bonds that held his master. Sam's mind raced, his heart let out a soulful cry. He bent, not wanting to touch his dear master for fear it would bring home to him the cold, harsh reality his mind did not want to believe. He bent, slowly, and laid his head on Frodo's breast. His mind desperately hoping for that low hum of life. A light flutter or slow thud, calming and reassuring him that life still stirred inside his master's body, there was none. Still as stone, breath and bone.
Sam moved his ears to Frodo's mouth, praying to hear a light rasp of cold, rattled breath, shaken as it has been of late, as if a heavy burden pressed on his lungs. Not even that heartbreaking, pathetic, gasp of life that clung Frodo to this world would stir. Silent stillness in the dark of night.
Sam rose, his wide, fearful eyes meeting Frodo's still and placid face once more. It seemed a pale green in the light of the starglass. Sam put his trembling hands to Frodo's forehead, then touched his fingertips to Frodo's wrist, no warmth or gentle throbbing could be found. All was still and cold.
"Mr. Frodo! Frodo!"
Silence.
"Oh please wake up! Don't go where I can't follow!"
Stillness and cold.
"Please wake up! Don't you hear me! It's your Sam calling you! Please wake up!"
His echoing voice rang it's sorrow and despair in the emptiness of Shelob's lair. It was then that the blind fury and rage that had set upon Sam in his moment against Shelob returned with all its potency. He gripped Sting and cursed loudly, his voice echoing in agony. He stabbed the air and stones around him, he cried out, his heart screaming in anguish.
Darkness slowly crept back into Sam's mind and he dropped Sting immediately, running to Frodo's side again. Frodo lay as he was left, cold and still, like a figure of elvish beauty frozen under an icy pond. Sam brushed a dark curl from Frodo's face but nothing stirred. This was the final stab into Sam. He knew. The image that was given to him in Galadriel's mirror from what seemed an age ago, returned to him. Frodo laying still, under a dark cliff, in a serene sleep. A sleep from which there is no waking.
"He's dead." Sam's words whispered in a hollow coldness. "Not asleep. Dead." The words had a finality to them that sent a cold shiver down Sam's spine and stung him, the pain never subsiding.
It was those words that brought a dark night into his heart that the phial of Galadriel could not slay. He hung his head low, and drew his grey hood over his face in mourning. Darkness crept and killed everything that had ever lived in Sam; hope, light, friendship, faithfulness. But with it died fear. He was no longer afraid of the darkness that was slowly consuming him and whether he sat there in deep despair for minutes, hours, eternities, it did not matter. He lifted his head, tears glittering down his face like hundreds of tiny, dying stars as they landed in his hands and faded into the gloom. What could he do? He could not turn back. He could not go on. No, such a journey would be a forever stumble into dark despair and loneliness only destined to fail in the end. He knew this. He was not chosen, the Ring was given to Frodo, surely he would fail. He'd die long before he even reached the slopes of Mount Doom, if he wasn't dying already. Inside was dead and dark and the phial of Galadriel was just an intruding light in his forever night. No more comfort, hope, faith. It was all for naught. The quest was destined for doom the second they stepped out of Rivendell, perhaps even the Shire.
He could seek vengeance. Once the dark blood of Gollum is spilled over this bleak landscape it will give him this bittersweet sense of closure with which he could die. And die he would, that he knew. That was what he was meant to do. Die in this forsaken land of darkness and shadow. But with perhaps his secure sense of closure watching the blood of Gollum soak the scorched, dry ground. No, that would be no good. It was not worth leaving his master's side for. It could not bring his master back. But nothing will. They had better both be dead together. The thought echoed in Sam's mind.
"We had better both be dead together. Though that too, a lonely journey. It would bring an end to this suffering." Sam's eyes searched the darkness for an answer. None came. His heart was silenced with overwhelming grief that threatened to kill him slowly and painfully. He might as well just end it there.
His eyes fell on Sting, the smooth metal a soothing burn to vanquish the freezing coldness inside of him. Empty no more. What lies behind the tip of the sword where all brave and valiant knights may travel? Sam, in his own eyes, was neither brave nor valiant, but there in lies the end of his journey. The journey to the tip of the sword, to feel it's metal fill you, and an empty fall off a black brink into nothingness, and lie beside his master- forever more.
He lifted Sting, watching it shine and flicker it's blue icy light. He looked at everything as if he was seeing it for the first time, but truly his last. The starglass, so bright and full, as contrast to him, dark and empty. The dark cliffs, so malevolent and brooding, watching him. He held out his arms so that Sting would slide straight through his hollow, aching chest when he thrust his arms back in. He sighed, his breath ragged. His gaze at last fell on his master's fair face, still and serene in it's tranquil pose of elven light. Just asleep, a peaceful sleep, from which there was no waking. Sam breathed again, Sting almost touching his chest, pricking at his skin. A moments pain and then no more, this cold anguish in his torn heart would soon be gone. A moments hesitation, did Frodo stir? Sam's heart stopped as he watched his master intently. He did not blink, waiting in cold torment for some sign of life. He received none, not a stir, flutter of heart, slow breath, stillness. Sam cursed his eyes for showing him something he only wished was true but was not, a cruel trick of his mind. No more tricks. It would be done with soon.
"Farewell, master, perhaps we will meet shortly. I am sorry I have failed you."
Sam fell forward into Sting's grasp. Darkness filled his world, the pain subsided into a warm numbness and then- nothing. The night that lay perpetually in his heart lifted with a veil of mist as bright white light penetrated his clouded vision, and- no more.
~
~I hated doing that! I don't know how such a dark thought came into my mind but I wish it had never been! As I was nearing Sam's death I almost gave up on this, I love Sam, I never thought I'd kill him. What drove me to this!?!? Please don't hurt me I love Sam just as the rest of you but the second I set this task out for me I knew there was no turning back. Now I know you're all saying "And Frodo!?!? He's gonna wake up and then what!?!?!" I have my plans for the rest of this don't worry just a warning now it will be dark and not happy. Who know's I may destroy Middle- Earth!!!!! Who knows what I'm capable of. If you are looking for a happy fluffy ending TURN BACK NOW! I will update according to my reactions. PLEASE DON'T HURT ME!! ::cowers:: I never meant to hurt anyone. I just started it and it got way out of control!! ::hides::~ FEEDBACK PLEASE! ~