Simple and Clean
A/N: Sincere apologies for the delays. I had such a problem with this chapter. (Bad chapter! Bad!!) I knew exactly how I wanted this chapter to play out, but it took me six times before I finally got it the way I wanted it. Plus, some of the "inner thoughts" sections took me more than ten times to rework. I truly hope that you all enjoy this chapter. It was hard!!^_^ As it is, I am STILL not completely satisfied with it, particularly the ending, but I can always rework it if I ever have a break in time. On another note, I've begun a synopsis for a new story. It should be up within the next week or so, and I like to think that I'm being rather clever about the plot of it (but perhaps that is merely the root beer speaking....)
Review responses:
Violet Raven: This chapter I dedicate to you!! ::Hands Violet Raven the " Chapter Four Dedication Award". Endorsed by Dominic Monoghan himself.....oh I wish:: In response to your query, yes this is going to be quite a long story. I finished the synopsis for it yesterday and came up with 35 chapters plus an Epilogue. After that I plan on posting several "Lost Chapters" separately, if you all are interested of course!!
Luthien: Greetings, Tinuviel!! I'm glad that you're enjoying my little ficlet. Also, did you know that in The Fellowship of the Ring (movie), when Arwen first comes onto the camera all glowing like, that the chorus singing is saying Tinuviel! Luthien! in a very drawn out manner? Too much free time.....but I swear it is true!!
ZoSo Gamgee-Baggins: Once again your post made me crack up. Now every time I think of that scene I shall think of Gandalf being dragged through a field in a blue dress. Oh if I could draw!! Also, I read your bio (nosy little me) Wonderful!! Another silly hippie! I applaud ye....
Bakemono: Oh dear, Miss Cotton is not too popular of late, is she? Poor, poor lass. ::shrug:: Me+recently-recieved-RoTK picture= stroke from pure happiness. I suggest to all of you to go to theonering.net and find those pictures, they are gorgeous!! Sam with Frodo in his arms, Aragorn in Gondorian armor, Merry and Pippin standing in flooded Isengard....so...precious. ::apologizes to Bakemono for turning this review response into an advertisement....bows, then gives Bakemono the scepter of apology::
Seregon:Thank yous and thank yous!! Yes, I suppose I do work in movie and book canon. It just played out that way, although I try my hardest to stay true to the book. (Check the weather in this chapter against the weather in the same part of the book.......I'm obsessed I tell you!! I just HAD to get the weather right....grumble....) I do indeed plan on bringing this story to the bitter end. Also, every character I bring into this fic I will try to make come alive, even that dratted Legolas-elf....
Tiriel: I am glad that you've enjoyed it so far!! Welcome, welcome. May you be greeted with a thousand golden Figwits. ^_^ Oh yes, and you have every right to be persnickety. I try very hard to reread my work before I post it to check for typos but I'm a little dyslexic and often don't catch things....grrr...I need a beta reader....
This chapter brought to you by lembas, the elvish waybread. One bite is enough to feed a grown man for a full day.
Merry: How many did you eat?
Pippin: Four.....*belch*
Sorry, I'm in a mood today. Cursed April air.....
Simple and Clean
Chapter four
Pure
"Mr. Frodo, breakfast is ready!"
Frodo groaned and buried his head under his pillow. He heard the muffled sound of footsteps and then the shutters being thrown opened. His bedroom intruder sighed then reshut the shutters.
"Come on, Mr. Frodo, wake up! There's a nasty bit of rain today and its a touch cold. Not much, mind you, but enough to give the garden a chill. I'll have to go make sure the plants ain't harmed none." The voice paused thoughtfully. "After I get you out of bed that is."
Despite himself Frodo smiled. Sam's cheerful prattle never ceased to amuse him. However, Frodo's false scowl took over his features once again as the pillow was gently pulled away and the blankets were pulled back. Dramatically, Frodo threw his arms over his head and groaned again. Sam gently shook his master's shoulder.
"Come on now, Mr. Frodo. I've a nice fire goin' in the kitchen. You'd best stop bein' a slug-a-bed before your breakfast chills." Sam shook his head bemusedly. He knew when Frodo was playing, full-grown though they both were.
Grudgingly Frodo opened his bright blue eyes and turned over onto his back to blink up at his friend. Squinting, he declared, "I shan't move from this bed. If you want me to come to breakfast you shall have to carry me to the table, for although you've woken my head up my feet are still fast asleep."
"Mr. Frodo...." Sam pleaded, putting his hands on his hips. The action and tone made Frodo think of the young Gamgee in the garden years ago, saying it wasn't proper to play in the mud. Sighing loudly, Frodo surrendered his jest and sat up, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand.
"Very well, I'm up, I'm up. Honestly Sam, I don't know who I ever managed to rouse myself up in the morning. I daresay if you weren't here I'd sleep the day away and be no more the wiser for it." He rose to his feet and stretched his arms over his head. "It seems that you've always been here. It has been years since this little tradition started, if I remember correctly."
Sam nodded and raised his eyes to the ceiling in thought. "Since the morning after Mr. Bilbo left, I'd reckon."
Frodo nodded in agreement. "The years fly, don't they?"
Sam lowered his eyes to study Frodo. Yes, the years had flown, but Frodo looked none the worse from them. Why, he was just past fifty and still looked no older than Sam himself. It was a curious phenomenon, but Bilbo, too, had been 'well preserved.' It was nothing to get excited about. So, Sam merely smiled and said, "Aye, that they do, Mr. Frodo. I'll go warm your breakfast for you."
Humming to himself the gardener left the bedroom and headed for the kitchen. Frodo looked after him for a moment then forced himself to rise completely and go over to his clothing chest. As he riled through the drawers for the day's clothes he laughed thoughtfully.
"Do you remember when you were a lad, Sam? You said that when you grew up you were going to fatten me up properly." Frodo slipped off his nightshirt and pulled on his breeches. He made a childish face at his reflection in the bureau mirror. Though still uncommonly thin for a hobbit he had indeed acquired a healthy bit of extra weight, a fact he attributed to Sam's good cooking.
"I believe you held true to your word," Frodo called, slipping on his shirt and running his hands through his bed-tousled curls. "As usual," he added as an after thought.
"Yes sir, I do remember that," Sam's voice drifted from the kitchen followed by the clatter of pans. Frodo yawned and went out into the hallway, listening to the rain outside as he did so.
As he passed through the parlor the old wooden chest caught Frodo's eye, just as it had every morning for the last decade. A fine layer of dust covered the lid. Frodo had only opened it once after thrusting the envelope with Bilbo's magic ring inside deep into the confines of the box; only once on a whim, just to make sure the heirloom was still there. For the rest of the years it had lain silently, nearly forgotten except in some deep place of Frodo's mind, where somehow it constantly prodded; calling out, begging to be taken out and examined. Today, however, the call was too weak to be paid much attention and Frodo continued through the parlor to the kitchen where Sam was just setting out the plates of food freshly heated from the fire.
Frodo inhaled the aromas deeply as he sat down at his place. Everything smelled delicious and when Frodo said so Sam flushed light pink and mumbled his thanks before getting the tea kettle and bringing it over to the table. He poured the hot drink first into Frodo's cup, then his own.
"What are you plannin' to do today, Mr. Frodo?" Sam asked nonchalantly as he sat down and began to eat. Frodo took up a forkful, chewed, and swallowed thoughtfully before answering.
"You know," he said slowly, "it is just the perfect kind of day to simply laze about in front of the fire with a good book. Perhaps I shall write in my journal. I've been meaning to lately; I never was as diligent in writing down my daily personal thoughts as Bilbo. No doubt he's filled three books already...."
Sam nodded his approval then took a swig of his own beverage. "That sounds fine, Mr. Frodo," Sam said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "After all, its better to be in then out in these nasty, cold days. And truth be told, sir, I'd bet your hands been wantin' some exercise. Ink and pen might do you good. Get the blood flowin', you might say."
Frodo cleared his throat. "Why don't you join me, Sam? Surely the garden will not suffer from one day of your absence."
"Perhaps not, sir, but I'd best make sure they ain't drownded," said Sam between bites. "Shouldn't take me long; no more than the mornin'."
Frodo flet a stone of disappointment settle in his stomach, but the immediately he reprimanded himself. Why should he feel disappointed? Sam had work to do and he was only trying to fulfill his duties properly. Pushing the stone away, Frodo sipped at his tea and changed the subject.
"How are things at home, Sam?"
"Well enough, I suppose. Just me and the gaffer now, you know, since Marigold got married. My gaffer's been cranky of late; his joints've been painin' him in this rainy weather. He's been hecklin' me 'bout gettin' married myself, since I came of age."
Frodo paused in his meal long enough to raise his eyes and say, "Why haven't you?"
"Why haven't you , beggin' pardon, Mr. Frodo?" Sam countered, breaking into a smile. Then he shrugged and resumed his eating. "I'm happy the way things are now."
Frodo smiled. "That's all that matters then, isn't it?"
They finished breakfast in comfortable silence then together they cleared the table. That finished Sam was off to the gardens, his feet sticking in the mud and water dripping from his hood as he went. Frodo stood by the window for a while, watching the grey clouds roll by and the grass sway in the wind. A perfectly nasty, dreary day. Frodo smiled to himself. Just as he had told Sam, these days were the best for reading or writing or thinking. *Perhaps I shall practice my elvish,* Frodo thought.
Reciting various lilting words and phrases the gentle hobbit returned to his room and stood before the knotty, wooden bookshelf laden with handwritten tomes and parchments just begging to be read. Frodo pondered over the selection then decided against reading. His hands itched to write!
Slyly, he crept to his bedroom door and shut it. Then, feeling like a paranoid child, he slunk over to his dresser, opened the bottom drawer, and dug out a cloth bound journal from beneath his clothes. "Ridiculous!" Frodo exclaimed with a laugh out loud to himself as he shut the drawer and opened the book to the front page before beginning. "To cousin Frodo, so that he may stop day dreaming and write down some of those sill thoughts of his. From Meriadoc the Magnificent." Frodo chuckled as he read the inscription then turned to a blank page and picked up the quill.
~Today is a rather dreary day,~ he began. A loud sneeze sounded outside his window and Frodo knew that Sam was right outside, gardening away despite the cold rain. Frodo shook his head with a sigh and continued his writing.
~I should have liked to stay warm in my bed until well past elevensies, but, of course, dear Samwise would have none of that. I do believe he would have poured ice water on me if I had not complied to his wishes. And I his elder! When did it happen that student orders teacher? Imagine! (I mean this of course in only the best humor.)
It is lonely here, alone in this grey room while outside a grey rain falls from a grey sky. It is days such as this that I am grateful for my consistent companion. When all else is despondent and dreary Sam is the one thing that remains sprightly and vivacious. But now here I am getting poetic again.
I often wonder what Bilbo is doing. Perhaps it is raining in Rivendell. Perhaps it is. Raindrops like crystal shards or broken starlight, I would wager. I should like to see it one day. Rivendell, that is. I 've begun to wonder if I shall ever leave the Shire. I wonder if I shall ever see the world outside. Almost, I can picture it in my head. The great halls of the Elves, all wrought in silver leaves and moonlight. Mountains higher than an eye can see, stretching up towards the heavens with snow covered fingers. Vast forests with trees that seem almost animated, with leaves the color of elven gems and trunks the color of Sam's eyes when he is laughing...~
Here Frodo came to an abrupt halt. Outside there was the angry rumble of distant thunder, and the rain began to come down in sheets. Frodo frowned and stood up, leaving his journal open on his desk, and went to his window. Outside, Sam stood in the center of the garden, shovel in hand, blinking up at the sky in bewilderment.
Frodo could not help but be slightly amused. Apparently the sudden cloud burst had caught the gardener off guard. With a slight smile on his face Frodo opened the window.
"Sam!" he shouted as rain blew into his face unforgivingly. Sam jumped and squinted at Frodo from beneath his drenched cloak.
"Musta been a cloud burst, Mr. Frodo!" the younger hobbit shouted back.
"Indeed! For heaven's sake, Sam, come inside! You'll catch your death out there!"
As if to further punctuate Frodo's statement Sam's chest hitched and he sneezed loudly. "You see!" Frodo accused. He laughed and shook his head. "Come back inside. The plants will be more than nourished. And do not argue with me!" Frodo added as Sam opened his mouth to protest. Frodo ducked his head back inside and quickly closed the window to block out the onslaught of rainwater. He moved to put his journal away and as he picked the clothbound book up he casually ran his eyes over the page he had just written. He went to the dresser and opened te drawer to rehide his personal thoughts when he came to the last phrase of the entry: ~like Sam's eyes when he's laughing.~ When Frodo had written that he had been lost in thought; writing almost subconsciously as he envisioned the Lands Beyond, so why had he....
Struck by a sudden pang of curiosity Frodo quickly flipped through his previous entries. Each one mentioned the stout hearted gardener at least once. In January: ~......There is hardly a coverlet of snow on the ground today, yet Sam still shivers in the garden. I do wish he would come inside and sit by the fire; it is pitiful to seem him work so hard....~
In February:~.......since I am visiting Merry for the week. He has grown up in body but certainly not in spirit. While I enjoy the antics of my young cousin I often find myself longing for Bag End. It grows very lonely at times, without Sam's whistling.....~
A week later:~..........if there is any reason to remain here it is Sam's cooking. I've no idea how I sustained my health before.....~
In March: ~ The Sun has decided to grace us with her presence. It is oddly warm for this time of the season and it would be a tragic waste to whittle it away indoors. Therefore, I found it necessary to go for a stroll near the woods. Sam accompanied me and as we walked he surprised me with a gasp. Upon my query of his behavior he swore that he had seen an elf. While I'm not entirely positive if it was in fact an elf, it is not impossible. Of late I've seen glowing caravans of the High Folk traveling in quiet files. They are going across the sea.....~
And so it continued. Frodo pondered this for a while but ultimately found nothing odd about it. "He is my friend," the hobbit said out loud. "One of my dearest...." He dropped the journal into the drawer then shut the drawer and went to meet Sam.
Frodo found him dripping on the main hall's threshold. The gardener was looking down at the puddle of muddy water beneath his feet abashedly. His hood was thrown back and his thick curls were drooped heavy with water. He looked up, distressed, as Frodo entered the hallway.
"I'm afraid I've dripped water all over your floor, Mr. Frodo," Sam said guiltily. "I'll clean it up...."
"No, no," replied Frodo, holding up a hand. "Don't fret about it. It is merely water; it will dry. But look at you, you're nearly drowned!"
Samwise blushed the color of a rosebud and ran his moppish looking hair. He realized that he most likely did look as if he had just hopped into the Brandywine and also realized that his employer found it quite amusing.
Sam admired Frodo, more than he did anyone else. Frodo was patient, kind hearted, polite, educated, and more than that, he had tried to educate Sam. Throughout all the years Frodo had kept his word to teach the lad. Together they had read nearly all of Bilbo's books and papers. Sam had learned to write, albeit not as delicately or precisely as Frodo could. With Frodo the words seemed to spill out of his finger tips onto the paper like leaves fell from the trees. Sometimes Frodo would let Sam read some of his poetry and Sam had found the soliloquies so beautiful he was moved to tears. Frodo was so much greater and nobler than Sam could ever hope to be, and someone of that much grace had to be treated with the proper respect. Which was why after Frodo had drawn Sam inside, set him by the fire, and put on the tea kettle for second breakfast, the elder returned to find Sam on his hands and knees mopping up the excess water with a rag he'd found.
"Well!" Frodo exclaimed, putting his hands on his hips. "I leave for two minutes and here you are scrubbing at the floor!"
Sam glanced up and gave Frodo a sheepish grin. "Well sir, its the only safe thing to do. You might of fallen if you'd stepped here, and broken an arm or a leg. And I ain't gonna have you gettin' injured, Mr. Frodo, on account of my foolishness."
"Very well," hummed Frodo as he pushed his sleeves up past his elbows. "If you absolutely insist on keeping me safe then I shall help you."
Sam stood up in a hurry. "Its alright Mr. Frodo. I can manage."
Frodo was indignant. "Sam, I am clearly capable of cleaning my own home." He'd taken no more than two steps forward before Sam's warning proved true. As Frodo settled his weight onto the slick floor his foot turned, throwing him off balance. Startled, Frodo threw all of his weight to the right to help steady himself but only succeeded in making himself slip altogether and plummet towards the ground.
Sam rushed forward in a panic and caught his master securely in his arms before any damage could be done. "Whoa there, Mr. Frodo, steady now!"
Frodo was horrendously embarrassed. He felt heat on his cheeks and knew that he was blushing. Sam still had his arms around him, holding him snugly lest Frodo should fall again. The gardener's clothes were still damp from the rain and as Frodo took in a shuddering breath he noticed that Sam smelled of new earth, wet wool, and tea; a natural, but oddly comforting odor. The seconds ticked by and Frodo knew he should move, but he couldn't bring himself to. Something about the situation seemed comforting and oddly familiar, like picking up a book you've read before and reliving the same story, or returning home after a long days hike. Knowing that Sam was nearby had become something of a security blanket, one that Frodo was glad he had.
"Are you alright, Mr. Frodo?" asked Sam, his deep, concerned voice resonating in Frodo's ears.
"Hmm?" Frodo glanced up and half-heartedly tore himself out of the strong arms. "Oh, yes....just a little surprised, that is all."
Sam clucked his tongue. "I told you to be careful, sir, but there you went and scared me near to death. I almost thought you a-done that on purpose!"
At that Frodo laughed and his sheepishness dissipated. "I almost wish I had! Perhaps then I would have been spared the humiliation of tripping over my own feet. Could you imagine if I had been crippled from slipping on the floor? No doubt the Sacksville-Bagginses would have some stories to tell then!" Frodo chuckled to himself at the thought of old Lobelia conspiring to somehow use such an injury to her own advantage but Sam's face remained clouded and worried.
"You shouldn't joke about you gettin' hurt, Mr. Frodo," he said softly. Then the shadow passed as if it had never been and Sam glanced at the window. "Lor save me; the sun's come out!" he exclaimed joyously. Frodo followed the gardener's eyes. Golden sunlight cascaded through the glass and onto the floor. The rain had ended for the day and the light had broken through. Frodo turned his eyes back to Sam who was still smiling about the sun and now chattering about all the work he should do. Gazing at his dear friend, Frodo felt the feeling that had been sparked all those years ago on a summer night now glowed warm again. Frodo felt it throughout his being, thought he could not identify it as of yet, not to himself at any rate. Helpful, faithful Samwise, always there, always cheerful. The corners of Frodo's lips twitched upward in a quiet smile. The sun had risen indeed.
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The stars were twinkling overhead as Sam walked home from the Green Dragon that night. The storm had completely blown over and now cool evening was giving way to mild night. After a very pleasant day of fireside tales with Frodo, just like when Sam had been very small and Frodo then very shy, Sam had headed home only to be dragged to the tavern by his gaffer. Sam had been doubly irritated. He had many things on his mind and had wanted to think them through, but his gaffer had absolutely insisted.
"You be spendin' too much time at that place. Folk will say things. Lor knows theys are already sayin' things. 'Sides, Rose Cotton's been working at the Green for some few years now. Word is she's got her eye on you, though how that is I ain't got no idea. You just play your cards right, lad......"
Sam had heard it all before. He wisely avoided telling his aging father that he had not spoken to Rosie since Bilbo's 111th birthday party....
So he had gone, and sat, and smoked in quiet thought while the folk around him once again spoke of strange occurrences in the far corners of the Shire. Occasionally Sam would interject his two cents into the conversation but he was only half paying attention. Even when Rose Cotton managed to catch his eye and smiled (apparently forgetting the party incident), Sam could not keep his concentration on her. His mind kept drifting back to Frodo, dear Frodo, falling into his arms; Frodo quietly smiling; Frodo singing his own songs, reciting his own poetry...
It was Frodo that Sam was thinking about at the present as he gazed up at the stars, whistling softly to himself. The stars held an elvish light to them, or so Sam believed; that twinkled and danced and winked; sometimes soft and warm, other times bright and gloriously blinding. The light held some sort of mystery, because even though one knew what they were, one didn't understand why or how. Frodo too held that light. Sam had sometimes seen it sparkling behind his master's eyes. Other times, usually when Frodo was sleeping, it seemed to radiate outward from deep within. Still other times the light could not be seen but it could be felt, filling entire rooms with its presence. Sam loved and cherished that light......
"Like magic it is," Sam whispered to himself. "He's like that....." A breeze swept through the grass, tossing up fallen leaves. It seemed to whisper words of feelings from the depths of Sam's heart and soul. "You love him..." it whispered. "You love him....."
"Oh hush!" Sam cried aloud to the passing wind, then blushed, embarrassed at the sudden notion. He shoved his hands in his pockets and scuffed at the ground with his feet. "What kind of thing is that to say? 'Course I love him," Sam mumbled to no one in particular. "He's my master and......well, he just is."
"You love him," cooed the wind, brushing through Sam's curls, reminding him of....
"Hush!" Sam exclaimed. The breeze began to die down. "Tell him..." it sang before fading away completely. *Tell him what?* Sam thought, although he knew the answer. *Tell him how wonderful he is....*
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The next morning the sun shone brightly, a lovely April morn. Sam Gamgee got to work early, taking in the sweet fresh air of spring. Everything was pure and clean, ready to be born and grow. Many of the plants had shot up literally overnight and so did a few weeds. Sam had to make sure that they were uprooted before they choked out the rest of the plant life.
All through the morning Sam worked, humming to himself and listening to the gorgeous world around him. The gardener was trimming the grass-border below the study window when a familiar voice coming from inside stopped him.
"You ought to begin to understand, Frodo, after all you have heard...." Gandalf! It was Gandalf, returned at last after long years of absence. Sam was so overjoyed that he almost leapt up and poked his head in the window to say hello, but what the wizard said next halted him.
"A Ring of Power looks after itself, Frodo. It may slip off treacherously, but its keeper never abandons it. At most......" Gandalf's tone was unhesitantly stern and serious. Sam scolded himself for eavesdropping on his betters but he simply could not help himself. A ring of power? Sam had only heard of such things in stories of elves and the like, but Gandalf was talking about them as if they were right in the garden of Bag End!
Feeling like a crook and going against all his better judgment, Sam laid his shears down on the grass and crept close under the window. *You tomfool!" Sam's common sense screamed at him. *You're going to get in trouble! Just think of the things Mr. Gandalf could do to you! Do you want to be turned into something unnatural?* Sam bit his lower lip in shame but did not move. The thought of the elves was too much to resist.
The day wore on, and Sam's eyes grew wider and wider with awe and growing fear with each word spoken between the wizard and Frodo. A Dark Lord? Elendil? Gollum? Bilbo's old ring a weapon for evil? It was all too much for Sam. His mind tried to make sense of all the foreign words and complicated history, but in the end all he could gather was little more than: a)Bilbo's magic ring was very, very bad and b) the people who wanted it knew where the Shire was. The thought of the beautiful Shire overrun with darkness made Sam's stomach feel ill and tears sprang to his eyes. *Surely it ain't true!* He reassured himself. *Its all just a tale; just a story Gandalf's come up with. Good old Gandalf, always joking he is....*
"......I am afraid you are right," the wizard was saying currently. "The Ring will not be able to stay hidden in the Shire much longer; and for your sake and the sake of others you will have to go-"
A strangled cry sprang unbidden from Sam's throat. Realizing his mistake, the Gamgee clapped his hands over his mouth and cursed silently. Gandalf continued to speak, seemingly not hearing the cry. Needless to say, Sam was thankful.
But......Frodo was leaving? No, no, that couldn't be! Frodo was everything, the whole world to Sam. Frodo could not leave, not on some wild errand that he should not have been involved in in the first place! It wasn't right.
Sam was suddenly aware that inside Bag End all discussion had ceased. He leaned closer to the hill, trying to hear something. What had happened now?
Then wack! Something struck him on his shoulder, knocking him back and causing him to cry out; and then Gandalf's hand shot down through the window and seized Sam by the ear, hauling him to a standing position. Sam Gamgee had been caught.
~"Well, well, bless my beard!" Said Gandalf. "Sam Gamgee is it? Now what may you be doing?"
"Lor bless you, Mr. Gandalf, sir!" cried Sam. "Nothin'! Leastways I was just trimming the grass-border under the window, if you follow me."
"I don't," said Gandalf grimly. "It is some time since I last heard the sound of your shears. How long have you been eavesdropping?"
"Eavesdropping, sir? I don't follow you, beggin' your pardon. There ain't no eaves at Bag End, and that's a fact."
"Don't be a fool! What have you heard and why did you listen?" Gandalf's eyes flashed and his brows stuck out like bristles.
"Mr. Frodo, sir!" cried Sam quaking. "Don't let him hurt me, sir! Don't let him turn me into anything unnatural! My old dad would take on so. I meant no harm, on my honor, sir!"
"He won't hurt you," said Frodo, hardly able to keep from laughing, although he was himself startled and rather puzzled. "He knows as well as I do that you mean no harm. But just you up and answer his questions straight away!"
"Well, sir," said Sam dithering a little. "I heard a deal I didn't rightly understand, about an enemy, and a ring, and Mr. Bilbo, sir, and dragons, and a fiery mountain, and-and Elves, sir. I listened because I couldn't help myself, if you know what I mean. Lor bless me, sir, but I do love tales of that sort. And I believe them, too. Elves sir! I would dearly love to see them. Couldn't you take me to see the Elves, sir, when you go?"
Suddenly Gandalf laughed. "Come inside!" he shouted, and putting out both arms he lifted the astonished Sam right through the window and stood him on the floor. "Take you to see the elves, eh?" he said, eyeing Sam closely, but with a smile flickering on his face. (The Fellowship of the Ring: The Shadow of the Past)~
Sam shifted uncomfortably under the Grey Pilgrim's keen stare. Nervously the bewildered little hobbit wrung his hands and bit the inside of his bottom lip. Briefly his eyes flitted to Frodo, who was in turn gazing at Sam with an expression both amused and sad. Sam felt his face go hot and he looked away again.
Gandalf hummed to himself. "I believe I have found something to shut your mouth and punish you properly for listening, Samwise Gamgee."
Sam gulped heavily and closed his eyes, ready for whatever Gandalf had decided was adequate punishment for Sam's blatant disrespect.
"You shall go away with Frodo!" Gandalf declared.
Sam's eyes sprang open. Of anything else Gandalf could have said, this was the last that Sam had expected. Half of him leapt with joy at the thought of not being separated from his master and seeing elves and the like; but the other half quaked with fear of the big, outdoor world beyond Hobbiton. The two emotions collided with one another, and Sam could only mutter in a shocked state: "Me, go see Elves and all that? Hooray!" And then he burst into tears.
The daily things (like this and that and what is what)
That keep us all busy
Are confusing me
TBC
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Next chapter: The quest begins. Frodo and Sam pack up and head out together, and on the way come across a very special group of people. Upon seeing the elves, our heroes discover something very important about themselves. (This next chapter is my personal favorite!^_^)
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Added note: if anyone is interested in knowing more about my next fic I have put up a movie-ish preview on A Brief Soliloquy. I was very er........unentertained at the moment.