The Monster of Bywater
Chapter Eight - A Day Out
By Talking Hawk
Author's Note: There's only two more chapters after this - sorry, folks! I hope you've enjoyed this though. Also, I didn't realize I've been being so vague about my personal life. . . Well, for what it's worth, I've been INSANELY busy, clutching onto the delightful jagged cliff known as "Grades." Yep, "Grades" (kind of has a "Caradhras" feel to it, don't you think?). Also, I've been spending most of my writing energy on essays for English Honors and for the school newspaper (hey, I wrote an article about Lord of the Rings - isn't that worth something? o_O). I'm not sure how much more time I'll be able to spend writing fanfics, but I'm doing the best I can. All of your support is much appreciated at this time! Thank you, everyone. =)
"Oh, hi, Sam!"
Sam yelped, jumping a good foot into the air. He had spent much of that morning searching about the meadows for his companion, and finally giving up, he decided to go get a bit of a drink at Bywater. Seeing Frodo *next* to the pond would have been big enough a surprise, but seeing him *in* the water. . .
"Frodo, Frodo!" Sam shrieked, forgetting all formality in his panic. "Get out of the water, get out of the water!!"
". . .Why?"
Sam swiveled his head about, then scrambled up the biggest rock in sight. He pulled a reed from the ground, and clinging to the rock's surface, he reached out his arm with the reed. "Grab on!"
Frodo could have quite easily taken hold of the plant, but he merely stared dumbfounded at it. Slowly, he lifted his gaze to look at Sam quizzically, his head cocked to the side.
"I ask again. . .why?"
"You'll drown!!"
". . ."
Finally smiling, Frodo laid out on his back and pushed his foot against the rock, pushing him through the water (A/N: he's wearing his underpants again, just so you know. . .). He lifted his arms toward the sky, and in a great circular motion, wafted through the pond. His toes were pointed forward, and his feet pushed against the water as wings do air. The boy was a graceful swimmer indeed.
Sam's mouth hung open, not quite sure what to make of this. Wasn't Frodo supposed to sink? What was wrong with this here?
"How. . ." Sam whispered, still recovering from his shock, "how do you do that?"
"Oh, it's easy," Frodo assured him. Another smile crossed his lips. "Maybe I'll even show you sometime."
The Gamgee sniffed his nose, and turned away, folding his arms firmly over his chest. "Hobbits weren't meant to swim."
Frodo stopped pedaling and stood up in the water, the surface circling about his neck. He rubbed his toes thoughtfully against the smooth pebbles that outlined the bottom of the pond. "What makes you say that?"
"Me Gaffer."
The elder boy - despite the short time that he had known Sam - had become well versed in what the Gaffer thought about certain things. It seemed that whatever Frodo liked, the Gaffer had a couple things to say about it. . .
"As me Gaffer always says," Sam started up again, "'If Hobbits were meant to swim, they would've sprouted gills.'"
Frodo bent his head forward and laughed - not in mockery, but from being entertained. When he had regained his normal breathing patterns, he gasped, "Oh, maybe you're right. . . Haven't found any gills on me yet. I knew there was something wrong. . ." He ran a hand down the side of his neck, pretending to search for the lost characteristic. It was Sam's turn to laugh.
"Well," Sam finally admitted, "I *suppose* it won't do any harm if you swim a bit, seeing as you know how. . ."
For a time, Frodo swam some more, making the occasional show of himself as to suggest his many years of swimming experience. Having been practically born in the water - thanks to his Brandybuck mother, his fluid movements were reminiscent of that of a swan or a not-so-ugly fish. Sam folded his knees to his chest, and holding onto his ankles, watched in both awe and apprehension.
Mid-day came about, and the sun melted away Sam's worry and replaced it with a slight case of jealousy. Rubbing the back of his burnt neck painfully, Sam regretted that he wasn't an "odd hobbit" as well, and knew how to swim. But nothing could be done about it, the boy inevitably decided. Rolling up his breeches, he took a walk about the outer edge of the pond, never going more than two inches into the water. The water was cool, and in it being so, froze the jealousy that had grown in Sam's heart.
He was content with the way things were.
Bored of swimming on his back, Frodo began dog-paddling through the water. He immediately stopped, however, when he became face to face with something small. . .and yellow. . .
". . .Aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"
Sam's mouth fell open, stunned by the sight before his eyes. Frodo, screaming and paddling backward wildly, thrashing about in the pond and sending spray everywhere. And Arnold wading nearer to shore, seemingly oblivious by the fright he had apparently given the elder hobbit. Now returning to his senses, Sam narrowed his eyes and approached the duck, scooping him up into his hands by the time he was knee-deep in water.
"You *naughty* duck!" he scolded the little bird. "What were you trying to do - run away from home?"
"Quack!"
Samwise growled beneath his breath, and pressed the duckling to his chest with one hand in a sort of hasty hold. He called out to Frodo, "Sor-"
"SAMWISE GAMGEE!!"
". . .ry. . ."
A large form dashed past him, sending up large drops of water as he splashed through the surf. Frodo stared at the nearing man wide-eyed, and just about as he was beginning to swim away from the furious hobbit, a gnarled hand gripped his shoulder. Though the man was waist-deep in water, he had no trouble lifting the boy out of the water and placing him to his hip like a sack of potatoes.
Sam began shaking violently, horror creeping through his soul. Muttering words of rage and fury beneath his breath, the Frodo-toting man approached the boy. "Samwise!" he shouted again. "We're going home - NOW!" Sam gulped.
They had been caught - and it was only the beginning. . .
Chapter Eight - A Day Out
By Talking Hawk
Author's Note: There's only two more chapters after this - sorry, folks! I hope you've enjoyed this though. Also, I didn't realize I've been being so vague about my personal life. . . Well, for what it's worth, I've been INSANELY busy, clutching onto the delightful jagged cliff known as "Grades." Yep, "Grades" (kind of has a "Caradhras" feel to it, don't you think?). Also, I've been spending most of my writing energy on essays for English Honors and for the school newspaper (hey, I wrote an article about Lord of the Rings - isn't that worth something? o_O). I'm not sure how much more time I'll be able to spend writing fanfics, but I'm doing the best I can. All of your support is much appreciated at this time! Thank you, everyone. =)
"Oh, hi, Sam!"
Sam yelped, jumping a good foot into the air. He had spent much of that morning searching about the meadows for his companion, and finally giving up, he decided to go get a bit of a drink at Bywater. Seeing Frodo *next* to the pond would have been big enough a surprise, but seeing him *in* the water. . .
"Frodo, Frodo!" Sam shrieked, forgetting all formality in his panic. "Get out of the water, get out of the water!!"
". . .Why?"
Sam swiveled his head about, then scrambled up the biggest rock in sight. He pulled a reed from the ground, and clinging to the rock's surface, he reached out his arm with the reed. "Grab on!"
Frodo could have quite easily taken hold of the plant, but he merely stared dumbfounded at it. Slowly, he lifted his gaze to look at Sam quizzically, his head cocked to the side.
"I ask again. . .why?"
"You'll drown!!"
". . ."
Finally smiling, Frodo laid out on his back and pushed his foot against the rock, pushing him through the water (A/N: he's wearing his underpants again, just so you know. . .). He lifted his arms toward the sky, and in a great circular motion, wafted through the pond. His toes were pointed forward, and his feet pushed against the water as wings do air. The boy was a graceful swimmer indeed.
Sam's mouth hung open, not quite sure what to make of this. Wasn't Frodo supposed to sink? What was wrong with this here?
"How. . ." Sam whispered, still recovering from his shock, "how do you do that?"
"Oh, it's easy," Frodo assured him. Another smile crossed his lips. "Maybe I'll even show you sometime."
The Gamgee sniffed his nose, and turned away, folding his arms firmly over his chest. "Hobbits weren't meant to swim."
Frodo stopped pedaling and stood up in the water, the surface circling about his neck. He rubbed his toes thoughtfully against the smooth pebbles that outlined the bottom of the pond. "What makes you say that?"
"Me Gaffer."
The elder boy - despite the short time that he had known Sam - had become well versed in what the Gaffer thought about certain things. It seemed that whatever Frodo liked, the Gaffer had a couple things to say about it. . .
"As me Gaffer always says," Sam started up again, "'If Hobbits were meant to swim, they would've sprouted gills.'"
Frodo bent his head forward and laughed - not in mockery, but from being entertained. When he had regained his normal breathing patterns, he gasped, "Oh, maybe you're right. . . Haven't found any gills on me yet. I knew there was something wrong. . ." He ran a hand down the side of his neck, pretending to search for the lost characteristic. It was Sam's turn to laugh.
"Well," Sam finally admitted, "I *suppose* it won't do any harm if you swim a bit, seeing as you know how. . ."
For a time, Frodo swam some more, making the occasional show of himself as to suggest his many years of swimming experience. Having been practically born in the water - thanks to his Brandybuck mother, his fluid movements were reminiscent of that of a swan or a not-so-ugly fish. Sam folded his knees to his chest, and holding onto his ankles, watched in both awe and apprehension.
Mid-day came about, and the sun melted away Sam's worry and replaced it with a slight case of jealousy. Rubbing the back of his burnt neck painfully, Sam regretted that he wasn't an "odd hobbit" as well, and knew how to swim. But nothing could be done about it, the boy inevitably decided. Rolling up his breeches, he took a walk about the outer edge of the pond, never going more than two inches into the water. The water was cool, and in it being so, froze the jealousy that had grown in Sam's heart.
He was content with the way things were.
Bored of swimming on his back, Frodo began dog-paddling through the water. He immediately stopped, however, when he became face to face with something small. . .and yellow. . .
". . .Aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"
Sam's mouth fell open, stunned by the sight before his eyes. Frodo, screaming and paddling backward wildly, thrashing about in the pond and sending spray everywhere. And Arnold wading nearer to shore, seemingly oblivious by the fright he had apparently given the elder hobbit. Now returning to his senses, Sam narrowed his eyes and approached the duck, scooping him up into his hands by the time he was knee-deep in water.
"You *naughty* duck!" he scolded the little bird. "What were you trying to do - run away from home?"
"Quack!"
Samwise growled beneath his breath, and pressed the duckling to his chest with one hand in a sort of hasty hold. He called out to Frodo, "Sor-"
"SAMWISE GAMGEE!!"
". . .ry. . ."
A large form dashed past him, sending up large drops of water as he splashed through the surf. Frodo stared at the nearing man wide-eyed, and just about as he was beginning to swim away from the furious hobbit, a gnarled hand gripped his shoulder. Though the man was waist-deep in water, he had no trouble lifting the boy out of the water and placing him to his hip like a sack of potatoes.
Sam began shaking violently, horror creeping through his soul. Muttering words of rage and fury beneath his breath, the Frodo-toting man approached the boy. "Samwise!" he shouted again. "We're going home - NOW!" Sam gulped.
They had been caught - and it was only the beginning. . .