In the Grey Twilight

Gracious thanks to all the reviewers! You're wonderful all of you. I have been rather conscious that this story is not…well…  "action-packed," and needed the encouragement.  I have more to come, and welcome suggestions.

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Sam beamed as he followed Frodo down the rows of judging tables, pleased that Frodo had asked him to help in something so important. Frodo seemed to think that Sam had a better taste for jam and pies and a better eye for quilts and livestock than his own, and Sam was happy to stay close to him in secret conference over each entry.  Frodo spoke softly, sometimes lifting a bite of pie up to Sam's lips, and Sam felt a quiver of pride. Although Merry and Pippin drew a lot of attention with their soldier-gear and stories, today Frodo and Sam were wearing their elven-cloaks and broaches, which made Sam feel dignified and worthy. 

Sam simply felt good when Frodo was content, and it was a bit like tending a little fire whose embers were flickering and needed constant care. Sam was happy keeping close to him and pouring forth his energy in an attempt to make his master smile. When Frodo did smile the result was a wave of heat in Sam's heart, gladdened at their easy companionship and rewarded by the exclusive attention Frodo gave him. Rosie thought Sam cared for Frodo out of obligation only, but she didn't understand. It was frustrating sometimes, because there were so many things Sam felt inadequate to express. You weren't there, Rosie dear, when I found him in that Tower. And you don't know what that Ring meant, what it did to him, and what he bore in bravery to save the Shire. If you and all the Shire knew the truth... But tales from the South were of no interest in the Shire, no matter how anyone tried to explain their importance.

His eyes fell away from where Frodo was marking down Sam's choices for Best Pie and searched out Merry and Pippin. For the next few nights the four of them could sit round the hearth with their pipes and remember the days of the War together, and be comforted. Merry and Pippin struck a beautiful presence these days but now Sam thought they seemed happier and closer than ever. He watched as they showed their swords to a small swarm of hobbit-children, smiling, and then Merry began to unclasp Pippin's mail by way of demonstrating to the little hobbits how it worked.

"Sam?" Frodo's voice suddenly broke into his thoughts. "Sam?"

"O, I'm sorry Mr. Frodo. I was just watching Merry and Pippin over there." As he spoke, the hobbit-children all ran off in a great burst, laughing and yelling Dragons! Dragons and Trolls! They're coming! And with that, Pippin dragged Merry by the hand to the main tent, where an energetic dance was taking place, and they whirled each other around.

Sam chuckled. "Look at them. You couldn't separate them for promise of gold or jewels or the Moon." 

"Or a pretty lass?" Frodo murmured.

Sam sucked on his bottom lip thoughtfully. "Maybe not, Mr. Frodo. I don't right know."

Frodo nodded and turned back to the tables. "All these chickens look the same to me, I'm afraid. Which do you like?" 

Still gazing off at the tent, Sam scratched his head. "Maybe them chickens can wait, Mr. Frodo. We can't very well let Merry and Pippin have all the fun, can we?"

"You'd like to join them?" he asked. A slow but sure smile alighted on Frodo's face, as he inclined his head to the mass of dancing hobbits.

"I think that settles it! Come on, Mr. Frodo!" And with sudden energy he took Frodo's arm and they nearly ran for the tent, their judging-papers left billowing on the grass behind them.  

The music was swift and free, inviting a great deal of jumping and turning. Merry and Pippin cheered when they saw them, and Sam, too excited and delighted to be shy, took a firm hold of his master's hands and swung him in circles. Frodo's face lit up with surprise and joy, and soon he was pulling Sam about. Hands on each other's waists now, they swirled so fast the world was a blur, nearly crashing against each other as dizziness shook them, but they could only laugh. Sam thought that for a moment his master looked younger, somehow, and then he knew why: he was remembering Bilbo's birthday, of course.  But maybe Frodo really did look younger; he hadn't laughed so beautifully in such a long time...

The song broke to a stop and Frodo fell, panting, against Sam's chest. "Wonderful!" he gasped and Sam couldn't help but hug him--and by the time the music started again he had lifted Frodo off his feet in a bear hug and was swinging him around.  

"Put me down before you drop me!" Frodo cried, exhilarated.

Rather out of breath, Sam complied. Having set his master on his feet again he reached out to smooth down his hair.

"I could do with something to drink, Sam."

Mr. Frodo looked winded, but his face was flushed with colour as if kissed by a rose and they stood so close Sam could feel his master's heart pounding.

"Sure thing. Are you tired?"

Frodo smiled deeply. "Certainly not. I intend to tire you out."

* * * *

The afternoon was chased away and evening settled on the land. It was coming on time for the feast, and Frodo felt an easy contentment fill him like warm cider, sweet and comforting as he watched Sam's joyful face. Together they walked through the rows of tables in the pavilion and passed Rosie who was already seated.

"Hullo Sam," she said prettily, clearly waiting for him to sit down. 

"Rose! A right fine Fair this is!" Frodo watched in disbelief as Sam gave her a small kiss, a pat on the shoulder, and moved aside as if to continue walking with his master. They were heading for Merry and Pippin's table, where the two young hobbits were marvelling over the great banquet. Cheerfully they raised their mugs and drank together--To the end of darkness! and the safety of the Shire!--while Pippin speared an apple with his little sword and Merry rolled his eyes.

But Rosie was fast behind them, hands raised in frustration. "Sam, wait." They stopped and she planted herself immovably before her husband. "I've been wanting to talk to you all day. It's not getting any less important."

"I'm sorry, Rose dear, 'tis been a busy day for sure. What's the matter?"

At that moment a high-pitched, singing crack shot over the fairgrounds, and every curly head in sight snapped up to look for its origin. From away on a hill, a light burst forth like so many doves suddenly released from a cage, swelling upwards in a spontaneous dance. There was a great cheer as the lights changed to sparkling red butterflies, scattering in all directions and flying down among the trees and tents. A sweet scent and soft noise followed each tiny light as it finally glimmered out to stardust.  

There was still some sunlight from under the horizon, and Frodo stared in wonder at the white form standing upon the hill, a white horse motionless nearby.

"Gandalf!" Frodo cried and grabbed Sam's hand in his astonishment. They bolted off together, running through the grass like children, and Sam gave a laugh for the merriment. Up the hill they climbed and Frodo would have landed in a heap at Gandalf's feet if the wizard had not caught him. Gandalf's voice was clear and cool as river-water.

"Look here, young Frodo," Gandalf said, feigning a sterness that could not touch his eyes, "I'm on secret business and would have my presence here remain unnoticed."

"Well you shouldn't have sent up that flare!" Frodo countered, and it was almost in the manner of their old times. Neither could contain their laughter. "Gandalf! O, I wish you had come sooner."   

"Few would be glad to see my face here, I think. It is best that I watch the merry-making from afar. I had nearly forgotten how hobbits' light-heartedness is a joy to all those around." Gandalf set his hands on Frodo's shoulders and looked long into his face. "I should hope it eases your heart as well." 

Frodo smiled gently. "Have you heard from the King?"

"Yes, I saw him lately, though not for too long. But he bade me bring tidings of your well-being. He asked after you as well, Samwise." 

"There's naught that could be better," Sam said. "The Shire's never seen such a harvest, and I've never eaten so many strawberries!"

Gandalf reached out to put a hand on Sam's head, almost in the manner of a blessing. "I shall tell the King. Frodo, have you a message for him?"

"Sam's report is well enough. How long will you stay, Gandalf?"

"Just long enough to send my lights into the sky, dear boy. I have work to do; wizardry awaits. But take heart, Frodo, for we shall not be forever parted. I have Seen it."

"I know," Frodo said in a small voice. He hugged Gandalf fiercely, wanting to ask what else he had Seen. Did Gandalf glimpse his future? And Sam's?

"What of those imps, Meriadoc and Peregrin?" Gandalf asked.

Frodo shifted, suddenly uncomfortable.

"Same as ever," Sam put in helpfully.

Frodo bowed his head to the wildflowers. There was no reason to hide it; there was nothing wrong... "They've made a commitment," Frodo said quietly. "A commitment to each other. They exchanged rings. I don't know what to call it. I suppose they're married." 

The wind rose around them and rustled the tall grass. Gandalf's hair billowed slightly and his face looked very serene. "Ah," he said, and gave forth a soft chuckle like a bell. "The King will be glad, I think."

Sam was standing very still, blinking. "Married, you say?" he asked at length.

Gathering courage from a deep well of frustration, Frodo met his friend's eyes. Before he even knew what he was saying, the words were out: "Yes, married. They made a commitment to each other, because they're in love."

Sam swallowed and finally nodded faintly, but did not speak.

Tension thickened in the air but it did not appear to affect Gandalf. "A cause for celebration, indeed. And if I'm correct, you're missing the banquet. You, Samwise, are being beckoned."

Sam whirled around and saw Rosie standing stock-still where he'd left her. "Goodness! I'd best be off, Mr. Gandalf! Farewell, farewell!" And he went, nearly tumbling headfirst down the hill. His companions watched after him for a moment.

"Have you been well, Frodo?"

"It's like a never ending sunset for me." He sighed, tearing his anxious eyes away from Sam's back. "Gandalf...I've been wanting something I can't have. Tell me...what do you think he feels for me?"

There was a knowing pause as Gandalf knelt before him. "I see how it troubles you, dear Frodo. But my answer means little. Only his answer will satisfy you."

"I don't think he feels for me what I feel for him," Frodo whispered. "I realized it when we got back. But...Merry and Pippin put thoughts into my head, and stirred up things that should have remained quiet and hidden."

"All things come to pass for a reason. I do think, however, that you have kept silent too long. Talk to him, and ease your heart."

Frodo turned again to watch Sam tramping across the field. "Perhaps you're right, though I fear my words may come to ill. Goodbye, Gandalf."

"Farewell, Frodo. Live in peace." The wizard kissed him, absently touching the white stone hanging from Frodo's neck. "Would it were so simple to put hope and comfort in a stone, that despair might forever be thwarted."

Their eyes met in some understanding and then Frodo broke away, suddenly driven to run. Sam looked red and gold in the deepening shadows at the bottom of the hill, and Frodo's blood pulsed in his veins; he was charging now, all caution abandoned. Dew splashed onto his feet and he reached to catch Sam by the shoulder.

"Sam," he said, as if he were the only thing in the world. Sam looked back at him intensely. Was there any difference between these soul-searching gazes he poured over Frodo sometimes, and the good-morning kisses he gave Rosie? 

"I missed Gandalf too," Sam replied softly.

Frodo opened his mouth, breathing hard and wanting to steal away this moment forever, wanting to turn to Sam and tell him what lay in his heart. But Rosie was already approaching, only a few feet away, and she snatched him by the arm. Then Sam was gone, disappeared almost as if he'd slipped on the Ring; he had lost him... Frodo saw everything in slow motion. Under lantern-light and ribbons, Rosie took Sam's hands in hers. A crowd began to gather, and Frodo edged away as if he might hide himself. Finally, Rosie pulled Sam close and said something into his ear. Sam blinked.

"Really?" he said. Rosie nodded. Everyone was silent.

"We're having a baby!" Sam cried, tears glittering in his eyes. "O Rose me dear!"

Frodo shut his eyes. The world tossed him up and he was crashing down, knocked flat and winded, and it was all he could do not to cry out, or whisper the desperate no that screamed in his throat.  A terrible numbness was fast setting in as Merry and Pippin came to his side; a bitterly cold and anguished resentment. Roughly he pushed away their arms and refused their sympathy, stumbling backward as if he might break into a run. "Go on, have a drink and sing a song for him," he mumbled. "He's waiting."

"Frodo--" they kept saying, still trying to offer their arms in comfort.

"Please. Go be with him, have a drink, I beg you. I'll have a bit of a walk and come by later."

"Wait," Pippin insisted. "It's for naught! It doesn't mean anything, he doesn't love her--"

Frodo shook his head violently, his eyes wet. "Don't. Don't say it. Didn't you see his face? O, look at him..." And he turned away.

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TBC. Feedback would be greatly appreciated.