Authors Note: Thanks very much to my reviewers, (remember, you're always
welcome!) Disclaimer: LotR is Tolkiens and not mine at all.
Chapter Two- The Road Goes Ever On and On
Sam rode through Bywater just as the morning sun was peeping over the green hills of the Shire. Wanting to leave quietly without any fuss, he had told nobody that he was going. He had not wanted a goodbye, and instead had left a (long and detailed) letter on the kitchen table of Bag End saying a personal farewell to each of his children. He had left Bag End to his eldest son, Frodo-lad, knowing that he could trust him to keep it well.
Sam felt a lump in his throat as he thought of Bag End, and then he understood what the feelings of Frodo must have been when he left it all those years ago to go on his journey, thinking that he would never return. He was safe now, safe in the Undying Lands with Bilbo and Gandalf and the Elves. Sam hoped that he was happy and rested.
He looked up, still deep in his thoughts, over the hills of the Shire. He knew that this would be one of the last times that he would see them, and although he knew he would miss them, no part of him wanted to stay. He knew that his place was with Frodo, to live happily for however much time he had left.
Sam rode on, slowly but steadily, for most of the day. He only stopped to eat a few morsels that he had packed or to stretch out his stiff limbs. It had been some time since he had ridden a pony, but he preferred it to walking. It was a comfort to him on his lonely journey to have a companion.
Sam affectionately clapped William on the neck, a small smile on his lips as he looked out over the hills.
"Come on William lad," he muttered to the pony, thoughtfully stroking his mane. "We've a fair way to go before nightfall."
He mounted (with the aid of a nearby tree stump) and they ambled on down the worn and dusty road. All was silent, save for the occasional bird song or creak of branches, and William's hooves rustled through the autumn leaves that had already begun to litter the ground.
The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began
Sam smiled at his choice of words. One of Bilbo's old songs, wasn't it? And after all, the road did seem to go on and on sometimes. Right now it flowed on ahead of him through the fields, the Sun filtering through the leaves and making golden patches of light dance about the ground. Sam lifted his voice and sang again.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way
Where many paths and errands meet.
And whither then? I cannot say.
Throughout the song Sam's voice grew stronger, and when his voice faded the longing to see Frodo and Bilbo and old Gandalf grew. He then felt a twinge of doubt in his stomach, and worried that they might not be there to greet him.
"They call it the Undying Lands, but I suppose that's just for the Elves. Frodo and Mister Bilbo are no more immortal than I am. You shouldn't go getting your hopes up, Samwise Gamgee, that's what Rosie would say. But I cannot help it, and what is wrong with a little hope? I do not suppose I shall see Mister Bilbo again, but there's no reason Frodo shouldn't be there," Sam muttered to himself.
Sam rode a good many miles before the day was spent, and he camped under an old oak tree, about three miles west of Frogmorton. He took his breakfast at an Inn in the village, his cloak cast over his face so that no one would recognise him. He then carried on down the road to Whitfurrows and onwards to the Brandywine Bridge. Exhausted, he slept like a log, huddled under many blankets beside the river.
The next morning dawned and Sam was on his way again. He glanced into the Old Forest and wondered if Tom Bombadil was still living happily with Goldberry in their little house that Sam had spent two comfortable days in. He smiled fondly at the memory of their fair singing and rosy, smiling faces. He remembered as if it was yesterday their journey through the forest, and the time when Merry and Pippin had been trapped inside Old Man Willow and how Tom had been strolling past and saved their skins.
By lunchtime, with typical hobbit timing, he had reached his destination. He drew William to a halt and laboriously clambered from his back, then rapped with his knuckles three times on the red front door of the hole at Crickhollow.
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Chapter Two- The Road Goes Ever On and On
Sam rode through Bywater just as the morning sun was peeping over the green hills of the Shire. Wanting to leave quietly without any fuss, he had told nobody that he was going. He had not wanted a goodbye, and instead had left a (long and detailed) letter on the kitchen table of Bag End saying a personal farewell to each of his children. He had left Bag End to his eldest son, Frodo-lad, knowing that he could trust him to keep it well.
Sam felt a lump in his throat as he thought of Bag End, and then he understood what the feelings of Frodo must have been when he left it all those years ago to go on his journey, thinking that he would never return. He was safe now, safe in the Undying Lands with Bilbo and Gandalf and the Elves. Sam hoped that he was happy and rested.
He looked up, still deep in his thoughts, over the hills of the Shire. He knew that this would be one of the last times that he would see them, and although he knew he would miss them, no part of him wanted to stay. He knew that his place was with Frodo, to live happily for however much time he had left.
Sam rode on, slowly but steadily, for most of the day. He only stopped to eat a few morsels that he had packed or to stretch out his stiff limbs. It had been some time since he had ridden a pony, but he preferred it to walking. It was a comfort to him on his lonely journey to have a companion.
Sam affectionately clapped William on the neck, a small smile on his lips as he looked out over the hills.
"Come on William lad," he muttered to the pony, thoughtfully stroking his mane. "We've a fair way to go before nightfall."
He mounted (with the aid of a nearby tree stump) and they ambled on down the worn and dusty road. All was silent, save for the occasional bird song or creak of branches, and William's hooves rustled through the autumn leaves that had already begun to litter the ground.
The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began
Sam smiled at his choice of words. One of Bilbo's old songs, wasn't it? And after all, the road did seem to go on and on sometimes. Right now it flowed on ahead of him through the fields, the Sun filtering through the leaves and making golden patches of light dance about the ground. Sam lifted his voice and sang again.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way
Where many paths and errands meet.
And whither then? I cannot say.
Throughout the song Sam's voice grew stronger, and when his voice faded the longing to see Frodo and Bilbo and old Gandalf grew. He then felt a twinge of doubt in his stomach, and worried that they might not be there to greet him.
"They call it the Undying Lands, but I suppose that's just for the Elves. Frodo and Mister Bilbo are no more immortal than I am. You shouldn't go getting your hopes up, Samwise Gamgee, that's what Rosie would say. But I cannot help it, and what is wrong with a little hope? I do not suppose I shall see Mister Bilbo again, but there's no reason Frodo shouldn't be there," Sam muttered to himself.
Sam rode a good many miles before the day was spent, and he camped under an old oak tree, about three miles west of Frogmorton. He took his breakfast at an Inn in the village, his cloak cast over his face so that no one would recognise him. He then carried on down the road to Whitfurrows and onwards to the Brandywine Bridge. Exhausted, he slept like a log, huddled under many blankets beside the river.
The next morning dawned and Sam was on his way again. He glanced into the Old Forest and wondered if Tom Bombadil was still living happily with Goldberry in their little house that Sam had spent two comfortable days in. He smiled fondly at the memory of their fair singing and rosy, smiling faces. He remembered as if it was yesterday their journey through the forest, and the time when Merry and Pippin had been trapped inside Old Man Willow and how Tom had been strolling past and saved their skins.
By lunchtime, with typical hobbit timing, he had reached his destination. He drew William to a halt and laboriously clambered from his back, then rapped with his knuckles three times on the red front door of the hole at Crickhollow.
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