A/N: Hi there! I thought this would be the last chapter, but it turns out
it would be way too long otherwise. So it is in two pieces now. The other
is written, but not fixed, so it should be up in the next few days. Sorry
for the long delays between chapters, but this is finally coming to a
close. Thanks for the encouraging reviews!
shirebound: Thanks so much for your comments, you really made my day. I realize I lost a lot of readers with Frodo's death and not everyone was too happy, but it's great to know one of them came back and read some more anyway. As if it isn't honor enough to have *you* reading my story in the first place! Thank you.
ShireElf: Congratulations! I'm so glad you liked that and figured it out. Though I don't think it was all too hard. More will be said about that in this chapter and a little in the next.
Sorry if I confused you guys! Next bit will be up soon :-)
CHAPTER 13
The next few days were some of the hardest for Sam. He was plagued with nightmares whenever he drifted off to sleep. And he always dreamed the same thing:
He was surrounded by darkness so dark it seemed to be pressing in on him and there was a terrible stench in the air. Frodo was calling out to him from somewhere in the darkness, begging for help. Sam would try to answer but no sound ever came out. He would try to run to where the cries came from but he was always too slow and they grew fainter and fainter into the distance. Then he would see a small figure lying on the ground before him. It was covered in blood and deathly pale. Frodo. He had been too late- again.
Sam would always wake up sobbing from this dream and attract a few of the over-watchful healers in the process. They always asked him to tell them of what it was that distressed him so in the night but he would always refuse and lay awake the rest of the night, Frodo's cries echoing in his head.
By day he was no less at peace. Nightmares did not haunt him but the grief lay heavy on his heart like a disease. There was not one moment out of any day that he did not feel the immense weight of it. Sam believed this must be his punishment. He had been responsible for Frodo's death and now the memory of it would haunt his every moment. He could not escape.
Day and night there was a constant stream of healers coming in and out, tending to him, so he barely had a moment alone. They always referred to him as 'sir'. This irked Sam quite a bit. These people believed him to be their savior. They thought he had rid the world of evil. He had done nothing. He had not completed his task; he had failed. His task had only ever been to protect his master. He had failed in that. He had carried the Ring on to complete the task his master had not. But he had failed in that too. He had been weak and listened to the evil. He had been mere seconds away from claiming it as his own. There was only one thing that had stopped him.
The strange little voice that had called out to him there in the Cracks of Doom was something Sam could not forget. He pondered over what it could have been but it was impossible to identify it. Try as he might, Sam could not recall what it had sounded like in his head. He remembered how strangely familiar it had been. Something about it had made him stop. It had blocked out the overpowering voice of the Ring and the deep cold evil that had seemed to settle into Sam's very bones had quickly disappeared. But he could not remember anything more about it.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
About a week after Sam had awoken Gandalf decided it was time to see him. He had heard from the healers countless times of how the hobbit lay in the large bed day and night, seldom sleeping, but the sound of sobbing could be heard often. He ate little and there seemed to be nothing but sorrow and grief in his eyes.
Of course, none of the healers knew the extent of what this little one had been through. But now Sam had an even harder task, harder than the trek to Mount Doom, and Gandalf wondered if he would succeed. He must heal, emotionally he was broken and he needed desperately to heal. His body had been mended by the best young healers in the land; there were no lasting physical scars. But the emotional ones would remain for the rest of his life. It was Gandalf's job to help them fade.
It had been hard enough on he himself to learn of the Ringbearer's death. But he knew no one's grief, no matter how deep, would be equal to that of Samwise. He had endured countless hardships at his master's side, always putting Frodo before himself. And then he had witnessed his own master's death and was unable to prevent it. He knew that this had been tormenting Sam but he doubted he knew to what extent the little one's sorrow went.
All this went through his mind as the wizard slowly approached the hobbit's room. He stood before the door and knocked. A servant came hurrying out, bowing hastily in recognition before scurrying down the hall. Gandalf slowly pushed the door open the rest of the way and stepped over the threshold.
In the large bed over on the far corner of the room he could just make out the small curled-up figure of the hobbit buried under the covers. All that could be seen of him was the sandy curls on the top of his head. Gandalf walked in quietly shutting the door behind him and strode over to the bed and sat on the edge.
"Samwise?"
A pair of bloodshot eyes peeked over the blanket at him and quickly grew wide with surprise.
In a moment Sam had shot straight up in bed. "Gandalf!" he exclaimed. "But how--?"
The wizard put up a hand to silence him. "It is a long story and a tale for another time, I think." He replied softly. Sam fell silent gazing upon the figure of a friend he had believed was lost forever.
Gandalf looked long and hard at the wasted little figure on the bed before him. He looked a mess. He was so thin and pale and there were dark rings under his eyes, not at all like the stout little gardener that had left the Shire alongside his master. And Gandalf knew these physical changes were not just caused by his hardships in Mordor. They went much deeper than that; there was something different about Samwise Gamgee, he could see. Something was gone. Then he knew. The hope that had always been kindled in Sam's kind green eyes was gone. They were empty now.
As he watched, Sam's eyes filled with tears and spilled over onto his cheeks. Sam had thought it impossible that he could have any more tears left to cry but there was always more. Without a word the wizard gently gathered the small form, shaking with sobs, into his arms and rocked him gently. Sam did not deserve this, not after all he had been through. He seemed so small and frail now. The light in his eyes had long since been extinguished. Small hands buried themselves into the many folds of his robes and Sam sobbed uncontrollably into them. How could this small hobbit have endured so much?
A small croaking voice interrupted the wizard's thoughts. "I'm s-sorry Gandalf," Sam whispered, his voice slightly muffled by the robes. "It's all m-my fault. I broke my word. I l-lost him. I'm sorry."
It took a moment for Sam's words to sink in. Then Gandalf remembered his words to Sam before Frodo and he had set out from the Shire so long ago. He closed his eyes in horror. He knew this must have been just eating away at Sam, as if the grief of his master's death was not enough. But Frodo had been more than just his master, he had been his friend.
He pushed Sam up away from him so he looked directly at the small tear- streaked face.
"This was not your fault, Samwise." He said softly. Sam opened his mouth to protest but Gandalf held up a hand once more. "None of what happened was ever your fault, you could do nothing to prevent it." Tears still fell down Sam's pale face.
"Tell me what happened, Sam."
And so Sam did. He let his whole story spill out. The words just seemed to come out in a rush and once he started he couldn't stop. He was unaware of his own small trembling voice, often interrupted by hiccupping sobs, because he was lost, lost within the terrifying memories. When he reached the point of Frodo's death he stopped and remained silent for a few moments, gazing ahead, silent tears streaming unchecked down his face. Gandalf simply placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder and eventually Sam took a shaking breath and continued.
He recounted his decision to take the Ring and complete the task, his escape from the orc tower, his journey through Mordor, his encounter with Gollum, and just how the fall of the Ring and Gollum had come to pass. Such a tale will never again be heard in Middle Earth like the one told by Samwise Gamgee that day. Though he would recount the tale many times throughout rest of his long years, it would never be the same.
When Sam had finished he took a deep breath and looked up and Gandalf who looked back down at him, his aged face expressionless. However, behind those fathomless eyes, the wizard was in pure awe of what the hobbit had truly been through- and overcome.
He had done what many men never would have. He had overcome the evil of the Ring and completed the task. More importantly, he did it not for himself, nor for honor or recognition. He was not thinking of the well- being of all the inhabitants of Middle Earth as he resolved to take the Ring, as he let go of Gollum there in the chasm. He thought of only one individual, the one he had done all of this for. The love Sam held for his master was truly amazing. Gandalf could almost feel it. And he felt the same love, equally strong, emanating back to Sam.
After a long pause the wizard finally broke the silence. "Have you given any thought to what made you stop, Samwise?" he asked. "What it was that stopped you from claiming the Ring. Helped you overcome its deceiving voice."
Sam looked up and frowned a bit in thought. His curly head rested against Gandalf's arm. The recounting of his journey had taken a lot out of him. He felt the pain in his heart more fiercely, yet somehow he felt relieved to finally have let it all out.
"The voice, Gandalf," he said softly after a while. "It was so familiar but I could not place it then and I cannot recall what it sounded like now." He struggled once more to remember, but found it as impossible as he had before.
Gandalf looked directly down at the hobbit once more. "I think, Sam, that the voice was that of your master speaking to you down there." Sam's mouth opened slightly and he gave a small gasp but Gandalf continued. "He is with you, Sam, I know it. I feel it. There is a strong feeling of love and companionship that always seems to surround you. He has never left your side once, Samwise Gamgee, and he was there as the Ring spoke to you. I believe it was a near miracle that his small voice could be heard over the powerful evil influence of the Ring, but it did. His love was stronger than its evil. And, Sam, do you remember now?"
Sam looked long and hard at Gandalf for quite a while, stunned at what he had just heard. Unshed tears swam in his eyes, a single tear rolled down his check. Finally he spoke.
"I do, Gandalf." He whispered. "I remember now. It's the oddest thing, but all of a sudden I can hear it so clearly. It is him."
He let out a small sob and Gandalf was surprised to see he was smiling, the first smile in ages. "It's him, Gandalf!" He gasped, like a delighted child. "It's my Mr. Frodo. He saved me. He did it."
Sam was still grinning broadly, tears streaming down his face. It felt odd, an emotion he hadn't felt in a long time. To smile. He reached up tentatively, an expression of wonder on his pale face, and gently felt the curve of his mouth, the uplift of his cheeks. He was, he truly was smiling.
~AC~
shirebound: Thanks so much for your comments, you really made my day. I realize I lost a lot of readers with Frodo's death and not everyone was too happy, but it's great to know one of them came back and read some more anyway. As if it isn't honor enough to have *you* reading my story in the first place! Thank you.
ShireElf: Congratulations! I'm so glad you liked that and figured it out. Though I don't think it was all too hard. More will be said about that in this chapter and a little in the next.
Sorry if I confused you guys! Next bit will be up soon :-)
CHAPTER 13
The next few days were some of the hardest for Sam. He was plagued with nightmares whenever he drifted off to sleep. And he always dreamed the same thing:
He was surrounded by darkness so dark it seemed to be pressing in on him and there was a terrible stench in the air. Frodo was calling out to him from somewhere in the darkness, begging for help. Sam would try to answer but no sound ever came out. He would try to run to where the cries came from but he was always too slow and they grew fainter and fainter into the distance. Then he would see a small figure lying on the ground before him. It was covered in blood and deathly pale. Frodo. He had been too late- again.
Sam would always wake up sobbing from this dream and attract a few of the over-watchful healers in the process. They always asked him to tell them of what it was that distressed him so in the night but he would always refuse and lay awake the rest of the night, Frodo's cries echoing in his head.
By day he was no less at peace. Nightmares did not haunt him but the grief lay heavy on his heart like a disease. There was not one moment out of any day that he did not feel the immense weight of it. Sam believed this must be his punishment. He had been responsible for Frodo's death and now the memory of it would haunt his every moment. He could not escape.
Day and night there was a constant stream of healers coming in and out, tending to him, so he barely had a moment alone. They always referred to him as 'sir'. This irked Sam quite a bit. These people believed him to be their savior. They thought he had rid the world of evil. He had done nothing. He had not completed his task; he had failed. His task had only ever been to protect his master. He had failed in that. He had carried the Ring on to complete the task his master had not. But he had failed in that too. He had been weak and listened to the evil. He had been mere seconds away from claiming it as his own. There was only one thing that had stopped him.
The strange little voice that had called out to him there in the Cracks of Doom was something Sam could not forget. He pondered over what it could have been but it was impossible to identify it. Try as he might, Sam could not recall what it had sounded like in his head. He remembered how strangely familiar it had been. Something about it had made him stop. It had blocked out the overpowering voice of the Ring and the deep cold evil that had seemed to settle into Sam's very bones had quickly disappeared. But he could not remember anything more about it.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
About a week after Sam had awoken Gandalf decided it was time to see him. He had heard from the healers countless times of how the hobbit lay in the large bed day and night, seldom sleeping, but the sound of sobbing could be heard often. He ate little and there seemed to be nothing but sorrow and grief in his eyes.
Of course, none of the healers knew the extent of what this little one had been through. But now Sam had an even harder task, harder than the trek to Mount Doom, and Gandalf wondered if he would succeed. He must heal, emotionally he was broken and he needed desperately to heal. His body had been mended by the best young healers in the land; there were no lasting physical scars. But the emotional ones would remain for the rest of his life. It was Gandalf's job to help them fade.
It had been hard enough on he himself to learn of the Ringbearer's death. But he knew no one's grief, no matter how deep, would be equal to that of Samwise. He had endured countless hardships at his master's side, always putting Frodo before himself. And then he had witnessed his own master's death and was unable to prevent it. He knew that this had been tormenting Sam but he doubted he knew to what extent the little one's sorrow went.
All this went through his mind as the wizard slowly approached the hobbit's room. He stood before the door and knocked. A servant came hurrying out, bowing hastily in recognition before scurrying down the hall. Gandalf slowly pushed the door open the rest of the way and stepped over the threshold.
In the large bed over on the far corner of the room he could just make out the small curled-up figure of the hobbit buried under the covers. All that could be seen of him was the sandy curls on the top of his head. Gandalf walked in quietly shutting the door behind him and strode over to the bed and sat on the edge.
"Samwise?"
A pair of bloodshot eyes peeked over the blanket at him and quickly grew wide with surprise.
In a moment Sam had shot straight up in bed. "Gandalf!" he exclaimed. "But how--?"
The wizard put up a hand to silence him. "It is a long story and a tale for another time, I think." He replied softly. Sam fell silent gazing upon the figure of a friend he had believed was lost forever.
Gandalf looked long and hard at the wasted little figure on the bed before him. He looked a mess. He was so thin and pale and there were dark rings under his eyes, not at all like the stout little gardener that had left the Shire alongside his master. And Gandalf knew these physical changes were not just caused by his hardships in Mordor. They went much deeper than that; there was something different about Samwise Gamgee, he could see. Something was gone. Then he knew. The hope that had always been kindled in Sam's kind green eyes was gone. They were empty now.
As he watched, Sam's eyes filled with tears and spilled over onto his cheeks. Sam had thought it impossible that he could have any more tears left to cry but there was always more. Without a word the wizard gently gathered the small form, shaking with sobs, into his arms and rocked him gently. Sam did not deserve this, not after all he had been through. He seemed so small and frail now. The light in his eyes had long since been extinguished. Small hands buried themselves into the many folds of his robes and Sam sobbed uncontrollably into them. How could this small hobbit have endured so much?
A small croaking voice interrupted the wizard's thoughts. "I'm s-sorry Gandalf," Sam whispered, his voice slightly muffled by the robes. "It's all m-my fault. I broke my word. I l-lost him. I'm sorry."
It took a moment for Sam's words to sink in. Then Gandalf remembered his words to Sam before Frodo and he had set out from the Shire so long ago. He closed his eyes in horror. He knew this must have been just eating away at Sam, as if the grief of his master's death was not enough. But Frodo had been more than just his master, he had been his friend.
He pushed Sam up away from him so he looked directly at the small tear- streaked face.
"This was not your fault, Samwise." He said softly. Sam opened his mouth to protest but Gandalf held up a hand once more. "None of what happened was ever your fault, you could do nothing to prevent it." Tears still fell down Sam's pale face.
"Tell me what happened, Sam."
And so Sam did. He let his whole story spill out. The words just seemed to come out in a rush and once he started he couldn't stop. He was unaware of his own small trembling voice, often interrupted by hiccupping sobs, because he was lost, lost within the terrifying memories. When he reached the point of Frodo's death he stopped and remained silent for a few moments, gazing ahead, silent tears streaming unchecked down his face. Gandalf simply placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder and eventually Sam took a shaking breath and continued.
He recounted his decision to take the Ring and complete the task, his escape from the orc tower, his journey through Mordor, his encounter with Gollum, and just how the fall of the Ring and Gollum had come to pass. Such a tale will never again be heard in Middle Earth like the one told by Samwise Gamgee that day. Though he would recount the tale many times throughout rest of his long years, it would never be the same.
When Sam had finished he took a deep breath and looked up and Gandalf who looked back down at him, his aged face expressionless. However, behind those fathomless eyes, the wizard was in pure awe of what the hobbit had truly been through- and overcome.
He had done what many men never would have. He had overcome the evil of the Ring and completed the task. More importantly, he did it not for himself, nor for honor or recognition. He was not thinking of the well- being of all the inhabitants of Middle Earth as he resolved to take the Ring, as he let go of Gollum there in the chasm. He thought of only one individual, the one he had done all of this for. The love Sam held for his master was truly amazing. Gandalf could almost feel it. And he felt the same love, equally strong, emanating back to Sam.
After a long pause the wizard finally broke the silence. "Have you given any thought to what made you stop, Samwise?" he asked. "What it was that stopped you from claiming the Ring. Helped you overcome its deceiving voice."
Sam looked up and frowned a bit in thought. His curly head rested against Gandalf's arm. The recounting of his journey had taken a lot out of him. He felt the pain in his heart more fiercely, yet somehow he felt relieved to finally have let it all out.
"The voice, Gandalf," he said softly after a while. "It was so familiar but I could not place it then and I cannot recall what it sounded like now." He struggled once more to remember, but found it as impossible as he had before.
Gandalf looked directly down at the hobbit once more. "I think, Sam, that the voice was that of your master speaking to you down there." Sam's mouth opened slightly and he gave a small gasp but Gandalf continued. "He is with you, Sam, I know it. I feel it. There is a strong feeling of love and companionship that always seems to surround you. He has never left your side once, Samwise Gamgee, and he was there as the Ring spoke to you. I believe it was a near miracle that his small voice could be heard over the powerful evil influence of the Ring, but it did. His love was stronger than its evil. And, Sam, do you remember now?"
Sam looked long and hard at Gandalf for quite a while, stunned at what he had just heard. Unshed tears swam in his eyes, a single tear rolled down his check. Finally he spoke.
"I do, Gandalf." He whispered. "I remember now. It's the oddest thing, but all of a sudden I can hear it so clearly. It is him."
He let out a small sob and Gandalf was surprised to see he was smiling, the first smile in ages. "It's him, Gandalf!" He gasped, like a delighted child. "It's my Mr. Frodo. He saved me. He did it."
Sam was still grinning broadly, tears streaming down his face. It felt odd, an emotion he hadn't felt in a long time. To smile. He reached up tentatively, an expression of wonder on his pale face, and gently felt the curve of his mouth, the uplift of his cheeks. He was, he truly was smiling.
~AC~
