1.1 Sam's Tale

Reviews coveted and appreciated!

"I asks, yes. And if that isn't nice enough, I begs!"

Author: Nilramiel@aol.com, aka RosieCotton

Rating: G, PG, R

Genre: General/Romance

Setting: The Shire, year 1420

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1.2 Chapter 25: Conceived

Rating: PG-13

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One warm summer's night, around mid-June, Sam was woken at midnight by Rosie's insistent shaking.

"Sam. Sam, wake up, love."

Sam groaned. His well-trained gardener's body knew that it was not morning, not even near to morning. But he opened his sleepy eyes and found Rosie bending over him.

"Sam," Rosie said softly, lifting her hand from his shoulder, "Please come look. I know it's late, but I've never seen anything like this. What I mean is, it's moved before, but not like this."

His curiosity peaked, Sam climbed out of bed, surprised to find his wife dressed and holding a candle. He was used to her getting up at night, but generally she remained in her nightclothes, or put on an overshawl. Rosie was actually in one of her simple dresses, laced up the front, such as she wore about the smial on a summer's day. Sam thought she looked especially beautiful with the candlelight flickering on her face and her honey-colored curls loose about her cheeks.

Rosie handed him his trousers and shirt. Silently he dressed, watching her face for signs of what she was up to. But she said nothing, taking him by the hand and drawing him quietly through the hole, past Frodo's bedroom, through the round door and out into the night air.

It was a clear moonless evening, and a very light breeze was blowing. But instead of silence, or the chirping of insects, Sam heard a great rustling sound. It was like the round of rushing water, or of a great wind - near, but not too near, from the direction of the Party Field.

"What's that?" he asked Rosie in a whisper, looking about but seeing nothing that could account for the odd noise.

"I was having trouble sleeping," Rosie whispered back, "and I didn't want to wake you, so I took my cup of tea out here to sit in the garden for a bit."

Sam nodded. His Rose was prone to sleep lightly and woke often at night. On more than one occasion, he had found her in the wee hours, sipping tea in the parlor or the garden.

"Well," she continued, "Once I got out here, I heard it. And I went to investigate. Come and see." And with that, she pulled him through the gate and towards the Party Field.

It was the mallorn that was causing the noise. Its branches were tossing about violently, as if a great wind was blowing against it. Leaves and flowers showered from the boughs as they pitched wildly against one another. Even the trunk, though it was now as thick as Sam's waist, bent to and fro near the top.

"Ah!" Sam cried in alarm, running up to the tree and laying his hand upon the trunk. "It behaves as if it will shake itself to pieces!"

"Rosie looked from Sam's face to the mallorn and back again, concern written across her features. "What's wrong with it, Sam? Will it be alright?"

Sam placed his ear against the smooth silver bark, listening.

"Well," he said after a moment, "There's no sound of splintering or cracking. An' the tree doesn't feel distressed, if you take my meaning. She feels sound and strong." He stroked the trunk lovingly, his forehead still etched with puzzlement.

Rosie nodded. She was well acquainted with Sam's uncanny sensitivity towards all growing things, and towards this tree in particular.

"You know what I think, Rose," Sam continued, turning towards her, "I think it must be blowing a gale up in Lorien, a real house-rattling storm. What I think is that this here mallorn – well, it feels what is happening in Lorien, where all it's brothers and sisters are. I think when the wind blows there, that's when it gets to quiverin' and thrummin' like it does. But this is a big wind, a storm even, I'm sure of it, tho' I never saw a storm when I was in Lorien." He looked thoughtfully up at the tossing branches. "No, all the time I was in Lorien, we had nought but gentle rains and soft breezes." He paused. "But maybe times are changing there, too, like they are in all of middle-earth."

Rosie looked at Sam with admiration, then back up at the tree. She said nothing for several moments, sensing that his thoughts were far away, in the Golden Wood. Finally, she spoke again, gently. "Look, Sam, it's starting to calm a bit."

Sure enough, there was a perceptible slowing, a reduction in the violence of the branches' movements. Although the branches still tossed, very few leaves or flowers were now falling.

On an impulse, Sam lay down beneath the mallorn, on his back, and crossed his arms behind his head. He gave a huge sigh and smiled, breathing in the night air as if it was a draught of good ale after a long day's walking.

Rosie grinned down at him. "What exactly are you doin', Samwise Gamgee?" she asked.

In response he sat up, grasped her hand, and pulled her down beside him. For a while they lay, side-by-side, hands clasped, gazing up at the tossing branches and the white stars winking between. The night was dark, and warm, and from time to time a sweet-smelling flower drifted from above towards their upturned faces.

Rosie twisted over onto her side, nestling her body against Sam's and tucking her head against his shoulder. She laid her arm upon his chest and sighed deeply.

Sam echoed her, lacing his fingers with hers and pulling her closer against him with his right arm. He loved the feel of her warm body against him, and loved her, so much that it made his chest ache.

After a moment, she spoke against his ear. "Sam?"

"Yes, my love?"

"Kiss me."

Sam turned his head, meeting Rosie's lips with his own, and she kissed him deeply, not the kiss of a drowsy hobbit wife, but the kiss of a newly married bride whose thoughts are on anything but sleep.

After several moments, Sam pulled his mouth from hers.

"Rose?"

"Mmm?"

"Should we go… you know… inside?"

Rosie propped herself up on her elbow, "Why should we?" she asked him with a grin, "There's no one awake, Sam, not in all of Hobbiton. And this spot is as safe as Bag End, this time of night." She bent and kissed him again, feeling for the waistband of his trousers.

Sam cast his eyes left and right (with some difficulty), and saw that Rosie was right. Not only did the area look as uninhabited as Amon Sul, it was a moonless night, and the grass was tall. He chuckled deep in his chest, and used his right arm to pull Rosie on top of himself.

"Ah," purred Rosie, pausing for a moment to look at his face. "Did you change your mind, Mr. Gamgee?"

"Aye, I have that," said Sam, capturing her mouth again with his own and moving his hands to her bodice. He still felt nervous, but it was a different kind of nervousness than he was used to, and he liked it.

"Good," she murmured, reaching down to pull her skirt up around her waist, then helping him unfasten the buttons on his breeches. She could feel her heart pounding against her ribcage, and as she pressed her bared chest to his, she could feel his heart as well, thundering in his strong chest in time with her own.

They joined with one another there, under the mallorn, not once, but several times, and great joy was in them both, even more than they had yet found in one another, and Sam felt as if his heart would burst within him.

As their passions calmed so did the tossing branches, until both the tree and the hobbits were still against the predawn dimness. It was not until the stars began to wink out, and the dew began to spring upon the grass, that Sam and Rosie stole back to Bag End and tiptoed past Frodo's bedroom to their own.

~TBC~

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Acknowledgements: The characters, setting, and much of the dialog belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, and I give full credit to him. This story focuses on the relationship of Samwise Gamgee and Rose Cotton, and it is how I imagine the events following the Hobbits' return to the Shire following the War of the Ring and King Aragorn's coronation and marriage. If you have read the book, The Return of the King, you will find the events familiar. I have tried to "fill in the gaps," regarding Sam's courtship to Rose Cotton. Sam is my favorite character in Tolkien's work, and this is written with the deepest respect for both Tolkien and the noble Samwise.