Chapter Nine: Names and Needles
Sam entered a few minutes later. He was carrying a tray, and Merry and Pippin followed behind him.
"So, I hear you've made Sam worry again, you old ass," said Merry genially to Frodo as he sat down on the edge of his bed. Frodo smiled, and Sam gave him the tray.
"But if getting a breakfast as fine as this one is what comes of it, then I might get dehydrated myself," said Pippin, sitting next to Merry. "Look at the size of that apple!"
"And the eggs look delicious," said Merry. "Sam, you don't suppose that – "
"You can cook for yourselves, you lazy things," said Frodo, and took a sip of tea. "As I remember, both of you are perfectly adept in the kitchen."
"As opposed to you," said Pippin, "who burns the toast by looking at it!"
"I expect you'd have starved by now without Sam," said Merry, "or at least been terribly thin."
"He's too thin now, if I may make so bold," said Sam. "His clothes hang too loose."
"It doesn't look too horrible, does it?" asked Frodo, examining his shirt.
"Nothing a few alterations won't fix. I should've thought to bring a needle and thread from home."
"I'm sure they'll have some here," said Merry.
The door opened and Elrond came in, carrying a basin of water, which he set down next to Frodo's bed. "Ah, I see you have visitors," he said, smiling gently. "How are you feeling now, Frodo?"
"Much better," said Frodo, "with much thanks to the Lady Arwen. And Sam's excellent cooking, of course."
"You seem to be in good spirits," said Elrond, "and because of that, I see no reason why you should stay in bed. But first, I think that your wound should be washed and re-bandaged. If you could remove your shirt, please."
Frodo's stomach felt a bit queasy as he undid the buttons, but of course that was foolish. It wasn't as if they hadn't all seen him bare-chested before at some point or another. But the fact that they were watching him, particularly that Sam was watching him, made him nervous.
"Look there, that's just what I'm talking about," said Sam as Elrond wet the cloth. "You can see his ribs plain as day."
"You're right, he has gotten thinner," said Merry. Elrond squeezed the excess water out and began to take off Frodo's bandage.
"We'll have to make sure you eat," said Pippin. "From now on, you aren't allowed to go to bed at night without having eaten five pounds of food first."
"I hope you are jesting, Peregrin," said Elrond in a grave voice, but from the corner of his eye Frodo could see a hint of a smile twitching in the crevice of the Elf's mouth. Elrond began to cleanse the wound. Frodo gritted his teeth.
"Does it hurt terribly much, Mr. Frodo?" asked Sam, his voice worried.
"No, just a little," said Frodo, but the truth was that it stung a great deal. To his dismay, Elrond pressed harder with the cloth. Frodo shut his eyes.
Strong and warm fingers entwined with his and squeezed lightly. "It looks like Mr. Elrond's almost finished, sir," he heard Sam say.
"Yes, I am," said Elrond. "And when I am, Sam, I will leave your master to finish his breakfast."
A single thought flashed through Frodo's mind without him willing it: "I don't want to be his master." He had never thought of it before, but the moment he thought it he realized its truth.
Master. The word became more asinine the more he thought about it. It was supposed to imply that he had some sort of authority over Sam, which was, as far as Frodo could see, a falsehood. What they were could not be adequately described as "master and servant". Sam didn't work for Frodo so much as he cared for him.
Money was the culprit in this situation, gold and silver. It conspired with prestige and family background. Because Frodo was richer, and more educated, and possessed a surname of more status, he was supposed to be superior to Sam. "Never mind that he's more patient than I'll ever be," Frodo thought angrily, "and more reliable, and more gentle, and more hardworking!"
Elrond began to redress the laceration. "It's healing well, Frodo," he said. "Very well indeed." He secured the bandage and adjusted it slightly. "Now, you are free to do as you please."
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Merry and Pippin decided they were going to do some exploring of Rivendell, which they had not had much chance to do yet. However, they arranged to meet Frodo, Sam, and Bilbo for second breakfast at ten o'clock.
Before he exited Frodo's bedchamber, Elrond mentioned that any alterations in Frodo's clothing could be done with the help of the Lady Arwen, who was apparently an excellent sewer and embroiderer and had many kinds of needles and thread. And so Frodo and Sam set off for her room.
"I hope she's got at least one needle small enough for me to handle," said Sam as they walked down the corridor. Sam's sewing skills had begun to form three days after Bilbo's disappearance, when Frodo accidently ripped his shirt on a loose nail in the garden shed. After Sam's mother died and his youngest sister married, it was just Sam and his father left at 3 Bagshot Row, and the Gaffer's ever-increasing arthritis meant that Sam was in charge of any task that required dexterity.
"I'm sure she will, don't worry about that," said Frodo, turning the corner. "Are you sure that it's necessary to alter my clothes? I'll probably gain most if not all of the weight back, and besides, I don't want there to be extra work for you."
"Don't worry about that, my dear."
Sam typically addressed Frodo as "Mr. Frodo" or "sir", but on occasion it was "my dear". Frodo had always taken it as a matter of course, but now he wondered. "My dear…what?" he mused. "My dear master? My dear friend? My dear…?"
"Hello, Frodo. Hello, Samwise." It was the Lady Arwen, standing in the doorway of her room. Both of them said hello and kissed her hand.
Sam explained about Frodo's clothes, holding up the bag as he spoke. "And your dad, Mr. Elrond that is, said that you had – "
"Needles and thread? Yes, I do. Come inside, please." Though she smiled, her eyes were still rather pink.
In his one very brief visit to Arwen's bedchamber, Frodo had not noticed its dark elegance. The Lady's bed was made of mahogany wood with intricate carvings of faces and flowers, and about the bed was a canopy of heliotrope-colored velvet. The panes of her windows were made of small sections of pastel glass in green, blue, and lavender. Across the room from the bed were two identical burgundy armchairs, each with a footrest. It was on these footrests that Frodo and Sam sat.
From the top of her wardrobe Arwen brought down a great box, which was filled with fabric scraps, along with thread and needles. "I would stay and help you," she said, "but I have a previous engagement. You may leave the things there when you have finished. I hope to see you later this evening." And with that she left, black hair and satin dress swirling.
Sam began to dig through the box until he found a green spool of thread that perfectly matched Frodo's favorite vest. As Sam threaded the needle, Frodo said, "How about I look for thread while you sew."
"Oh no, that isn't necessary, sir. You can just sit there – or maybe go and find Mr. Bilbo, if you're wanting better company than mine."
"Sam, there could be no better company than yours."
Sam blushed and mumbled something.
"No, I mean it. Come, now, let me pick out the thread. I can do some things for myself, you know."
"Sir, I never meant to imply that – "
"I know you didn't, Sam."
As he took out a cream-colored spool of thread and held it up to one of his shirts, Frodo hesitantly said, "You know, Sam, we've know each other for a long time now, and you've been a great friend to me, and I think it's high time that you stop calling me "Mr. Frodo" and "sir." Frodo will do."
Sam looked up, horrified. "Sir, I couldn't!"
"You could. I want you to."
Sam shook his head. "I'm sorry, Mr. Frodo, but I just couldn't. It'd feel most unnatural."
Frodo's heart sank. "Sam," he thought, "dear Sam, if you think that calling me by my first name is unnatural, then what in the world would you think if I told you I might be in love with you?"