Chapter 8 Unexpected Revelations
He was so cold. He couldn't feel his feet or his arms any longer. Sayeed was nothing but a dead weight pulling him down. Sam looked at the young man he was fighting to save. It occurred to him that as a prisoner of the Haradrim, there really was no reason he should risk his life to save one of Sauron's allies. They were going to take him off to their foreign land and either kill him or make him into a slave. Why on earth should Samwise Gamgee attempt to preserve the life of one of his enemies? But then, he remembered Sayeed's kindness and merry laugh. Maybe he was one of the "enemy" but he was also just a boy and he had been good to Sam. Plus, it wasn't in Sam's nature to let someone be harmed without trying to help. Still, no matter how good his intentions, Sam didn't think he would be able to hold on much longer. He head was pounding and he felt very dizzy. Blood was still flowing from the wound in his scalp and between that and the pouring rain, visibility was negligible. His back screamed in agony from the strain of holding onto Sayeed. His numb hands and arms were becoming harder to control. And of course, there was the cold, the pervasive, creeping cold that was taking over his entire body. He was becoming very sleepy and he thought how easy it would be to just let go. Everything would be over then and he could rest.
He was fuzzily contemplating the benefits of this plan when he dimly became aware of the diminishing rainfall. The winds were also beginning to abate and the world around him came into clearer focus. The storm was ending almost as abruptly as it had started. Sam looked down at Sayeed and bit his lip in concern. The boy's face was alarmingly pale and had bluish cast to it. He was still breathing, but Sam worried about hypothermia. He knew many people who fell into rivers and lakes died not from drowning, but from the cold. It could very well be the death of them both here and now. Well, there wasn't anything more he could do at the moment except hold on and pray someone came soon.
Sam was dreaming. He was remembering the heat of Mt. Doom and his master's last hours in Mordor. He was chasing Gollum and crying out to Master Frodo to destroy the ring. Frodo was laughing at him and claiming he, Frodo Baggins, could be the new ruler of all Middle Earth. His eyes were wild and deranged. Sam ran to him, pleading with him not to do this when Frodo grabbed Sting from Sam's grasp and thrust the bloodstained sword into Sam's chest, still laughing a savage, crazed laugh. Sam cried out in agony as the sharp pain pierced his consciousness.
His eyes flew open as the cry flew from his lips. He suddenly realized someone was pulling on him. His broken ribs screamed in protest and he looked around frantically. With immense relief, he realized the captain and several of his men had created a human chain from the narrow bank of the raging river to his refuge. They were already passing Sayeed back towards shore and one of the men was working to free Sam from his cleft in the rock. "I regret if I am causing you pain," shouted the soldier over the roar of the river, "But we must get you out of here!" Sam nodded his understanding and did his best to help. However, the pain and the cold were too much for the exhausted hobbit and as the man pulled him from the rock, Sam felt himself slip into darkness once again.
"What a strange dream I've had," thought Sam to himself as he slowly came back to himself. Orcs and foreign soldiers, strange creatures living under Mt. Doom, falling into a river. a river! His eyes snapped open. He could see the black sky above him frosted with silver stars and a small fire was burning nearby. He could hear low voices off to one side. On the other side, he heard someone's labored breathing. He felt very cold, but was covered with some rough fabric. His clothing was gone. He turned his head slightly and could see Sayeed's pale face beside him. He looked the other way and saw several men sitting nearby, speaking quietly to each other. One looked up as he noticed Sam's movements. The man gracefully rose to his feet and silently made his way to Sam's side. He lowered himself to the ground and looked thoughtfully down at the prostrate hobbit. It was Captain Fahim.
"Well, Samwise Gamgee," he said solemnly, "You survived your voyage down the river. Few of us did." He looked over at the sleeping boy then again at Sam. "We are in your debt for saving the life of Sayeed."
Sam could feel himself blushing. "Well Sir," he rasped, "I couldn't rightly let 'im drown, now could I? He's been so kind to me and all. I owed 'im that much." Sam was then racked by chills and a painful fit of coughing. When it passed, he lay back, spent and weak. The Captain gently lifted Sam's head and gave him some water.
"You have been very lucky so far, Master Hobbit. It greatly amazes me that you are still alive." He smiled gently and shook his head, "But for you, the Emperor would have lost his only son."
Sam stared in confusion at the Captain. "The emperor's son?" he whispered. He looked over at Sayeed, his eyes wide. "Sayeed is a prince!?"
The captain nodded as reached over to adjust the cloak covering the unconscious boy. "Yes. In our land, the emperor sends his son out as a common soldier to learn the ways of war. He is given no special treatment and must earn his rank as any ordinary solider would. Although, it is expected that we bring him back alive. Anyone who saves a member of the Royal Family is given great honor." Captain Fahim leaned back against a rock and studied the fire thoughtfully. "We have lost our horses and most of our supplies. Only eight of us have survived, that I know of. The journey home will be most difficult bearing one injured member, without having to spare a man to watch over a prisoner." He paused. "I cannot reward you with any great honors for saving our prince, Samwise Gamgee, but I can reward you with your freedom."
Sam was in shock. First he finds that his young guard was the Crown Prince of Harad and now the captain offers him his freedom. Maybe he could make it home! "I.I thank you, Captain, sir. I would surely love to go home to the Shire and see Rosie and the Gaffer and all." And maybe find Frodo, he thought.
The weary captain smiled again. "We will camp here for a day or so to look for our lost companions and to allow Sayeed time to recover. I invite you to remain as our guest. You are not well and I am loathe to simply abandon you to your fate without providing you with what little aid I can. Your clothes will be dry soon. In the meantime, I suggest you rest. The journey to Minas Tirith is very long indeed. Perhaps as many as 200 miles." He eyed Sam thoughtfully, "I am not sure I do you any great favor by freeing you." With that, Fahim got to his feet and rejoined his men.
Well, this was certainly unexpected, Sam thought to himself, and definitely one for the fire side. A prince! And he, Samwise Gamgee, humble gardener from Bagshot Row, saved his life! Then his heart sank. Two hundred miles to Minas Tirith! How could he ever travel that far in his condition and with no supplies? He was beginning to think that the Shire was nothing more than a dream and he was doomed to spend the rest of his life wandering the wastelands of Middle Earth. He sighed sadly and soon drifted off to a dreamless sleep.
He was so cold. He couldn't feel his feet or his arms any longer. Sayeed was nothing but a dead weight pulling him down. Sam looked at the young man he was fighting to save. It occurred to him that as a prisoner of the Haradrim, there really was no reason he should risk his life to save one of Sauron's allies. They were going to take him off to their foreign land and either kill him or make him into a slave. Why on earth should Samwise Gamgee attempt to preserve the life of one of his enemies? But then, he remembered Sayeed's kindness and merry laugh. Maybe he was one of the "enemy" but he was also just a boy and he had been good to Sam. Plus, it wasn't in Sam's nature to let someone be harmed without trying to help. Still, no matter how good his intentions, Sam didn't think he would be able to hold on much longer. He head was pounding and he felt very dizzy. Blood was still flowing from the wound in his scalp and between that and the pouring rain, visibility was negligible. His back screamed in agony from the strain of holding onto Sayeed. His numb hands and arms were becoming harder to control. And of course, there was the cold, the pervasive, creeping cold that was taking over his entire body. He was becoming very sleepy and he thought how easy it would be to just let go. Everything would be over then and he could rest.
He was fuzzily contemplating the benefits of this plan when he dimly became aware of the diminishing rainfall. The winds were also beginning to abate and the world around him came into clearer focus. The storm was ending almost as abruptly as it had started. Sam looked down at Sayeed and bit his lip in concern. The boy's face was alarmingly pale and had bluish cast to it. He was still breathing, but Sam worried about hypothermia. He knew many people who fell into rivers and lakes died not from drowning, but from the cold. It could very well be the death of them both here and now. Well, there wasn't anything more he could do at the moment except hold on and pray someone came soon.
Sam was dreaming. He was remembering the heat of Mt. Doom and his master's last hours in Mordor. He was chasing Gollum and crying out to Master Frodo to destroy the ring. Frodo was laughing at him and claiming he, Frodo Baggins, could be the new ruler of all Middle Earth. His eyes were wild and deranged. Sam ran to him, pleading with him not to do this when Frodo grabbed Sting from Sam's grasp and thrust the bloodstained sword into Sam's chest, still laughing a savage, crazed laugh. Sam cried out in agony as the sharp pain pierced his consciousness.
His eyes flew open as the cry flew from his lips. He suddenly realized someone was pulling on him. His broken ribs screamed in protest and he looked around frantically. With immense relief, he realized the captain and several of his men had created a human chain from the narrow bank of the raging river to his refuge. They were already passing Sayeed back towards shore and one of the men was working to free Sam from his cleft in the rock. "I regret if I am causing you pain," shouted the soldier over the roar of the river, "But we must get you out of here!" Sam nodded his understanding and did his best to help. However, the pain and the cold were too much for the exhausted hobbit and as the man pulled him from the rock, Sam felt himself slip into darkness once again.
"What a strange dream I've had," thought Sam to himself as he slowly came back to himself. Orcs and foreign soldiers, strange creatures living under Mt. Doom, falling into a river. a river! His eyes snapped open. He could see the black sky above him frosted with silver stars and a small fire was burning nearby. He could hear low voices off to one side. On the other side, he heard someone's labored breathing. He felt very cold, but was covered with some rough fabric. His clothing was gone. He turned his head slightly and could see Sayeed's pale face beside him. He looked the other way and saw several men sitting nearby, speaking quietly to each other. One looked up as he noticed Sam's movements. The man gracefully rose to his feet and silently made his way to Sam's side. He lowered himself to the ground and looked thoughtfully down at the prostrate hobbit. It was Captain Fahim.
"Well, Samwise Gamgee," he said solemnly, "You survived your voyage down the river. Few of us did." He looked over at the sleeping boy then again at Sam. "We are in your debt for saving the life of Sayeed."
Sam could feel himself blushing. "Well Sir," he rasped, "I couldn't rightly let 'im drown, now could I? He's been so kind to me and all. I owed 'im that much." Sam was then racked by chills and a painful fit of coughing. When it passed, he lay back, spent and weak. The Captain gently lifted Sam's head and gave him some water.
"You have been very lucky so far, Master Hobbit. It greatly amazes me that you are still alive." He smiled gently and shook his head, "But for you, the Emperor would have lost his only son."
Sam stared in confusion at the Captain. "The emperor's son?" he whispered. He looked over at Sayeed, his eyes wide. "Sayeed is a prince!?"
The captain nodded as reached over to adjust the cloak covering the unconscious boy. "Yes. In our land, the emperor sends his son out as a common soldier to learn the ways of war. He is given no special treatment and must earn his rank as any ordinary solider would. Although, it is expected that we bring him back alive. Anyone who saves a member of the Royal Family is given great honor." Captain Fahim leaned back against a rock and studied the fire thoughtfully. "We have lost our horses and most of our supplies. Only eight of us have survived, that I know of. The journey home will be most difficult bearing one injured member, without having to spare a man to watch over a prisoner." He paused. "I cannot reward you with any great honors for saving our prince, Samwise Gamgee, but I can reward you with your freedom."
Sam was in shock. First he finds that his young guard was the Crown Prince of Harad and now the captain offers him his freedom. Maybe he could make it home! "I.I thank you, Captain, sir. I would surely love to go home to the Shire and see Rosie and the Gaffer and all." And maybe find Frodo, he thought.
The weary captain smiled again. "We will camp here for a day or so to look for our lost companions and to allow Sayeed time to recover. I invite you to remain as our guest. You are not well and I am loathe to simply abandon you to your fate without providing you with what little aid I can. Your clothes will be dry soon. In the meantime, I suggest you rest. The journey to Minas Tirith is very long indeed. Perhaps as many as 200 miles." He eyed Sam thoughtfully, "I am not sure I do you any great favor by freeing you." With that, Fahim got to his feet and rejoined his men.
Well, this was certainly unexpected, Sam thought to himself, and definitely one for the fire side. A prince! And he, Samwise Gamgee, humble gardener from Bagshot Row, saved his life! Then his heart sank. Two hundred miles to Minas Tirith! How could he ever travel that far in his condition and with no supplies? He was beginning to think that the Shire was nothing more than a dream and he was doomed to spend the rest of his life wandering the wastelands of Middle Earth. He sighed sadly and soon drifted off to a dreamless sleep.