Simple and Clean
Chapter Eight
A/N: Well, I told you that I had a treat for you all! Here you go, a the eighth chapter already posted and waiting for your reading pleasure! This one may be a bit shorter than the others, but it is the set up for Frodo and Aragorn's friendship. Enough of my jabber; onto the chapter!
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Chapter Eight
Fog
The new day was fair, pleasantly sunny and lacking the humidity that had built up previous to the night's storm. Merry blinked up at the sun, happy for warmth on his face. Behind him, Pippin was skipping along over sticks and stones, seemingly forgetting the night's previous terror. Up in front walked Strider, with Frodo beside him. The ranger did not seem able to make up his mind of which way to go. He would start to venture one way, only to steer off of his path an hour or so later. More than once he doubled back and took a different route; if the hobbit's had ever needed to return to Bree on their own, they might have wandered around for days attempting to retrace their steps and never get anywhere.
Sam brought up the rear of the caravan, leading behind him their new pack pony, a "gift" (a ridiculously expensive one at that) from none other than Bill Ferny. The animal was thin, but seemed content enough to be in the wild despite the weight on its back. Sam dotingly called him Bill, saying it was a poor name for a man, but a fitting one for a gentle beast.
Samwise was at a loss for all Strider's twisting and turning. He was quite annoyed at all the extra walking, and at length he quickened his pace so that he was astride with Merry and said in a low voice, "What do you suppose he's doin', weavin' all 'round like that? I reckon he's walked us at least three miles we don't need goin' in circles like this. It'll be night before we get anywhere we haven't been before!"
Merry chuckled quietly and glanced at Sam as he pushed the branches of a gnarled bush aside. "It's my guess that he thinks someone is following us. He's putting them off the trail, I'd say," said Merry sagely.
Sam still was not convinced. He huffed in indignation and pulled at his pack straps. "Puttin' us off the trail, more likely. Letter or no letter, I don't trust him."
"Sam!" exclaimed Pippin, trotting up to his two companions with a grin on his face. "I doubt you would trust any one unless Gandalf himself showed you a list of the accused trustworthy qualities, and even then I am not completely sure. He saved us once last night, remember?"
"And Frodo trusts him at any rate, it seems," Merry finished with a nod off his head towards Frodo.
Sam bit his lower lip and turned his eyes ahead. Frodo was walking a step's pace behind Strider, not looking at the man but keeping his gaze on the horizon ahead. Sam felt something flutter restlessly in his stomach, like there was a bird trapped in there fighting to get out. He frowned. Last night had been the first time Sam could remember that Frodo hadn't listening to Sam's warning. Samwise knew better than to question his master's judgment, but it had stung sharply when Frodo had turned his eyes away and agreed to trust this rascally looking man with a sword at his side (Sam knew it was broken, but it didn't make him feel any better, not a bit). What if Sam and Merry and Pippin hadn't burst in when they did? Would things still have happened the same? Or would this Strider have taken the Ring, or hurt Frodo, or....or....
Sam would not allow the last thought to be finished. No one would be hurting Frodo while he was around, or his name wasn't Samwise Gamgee! Sam gazed at the back of his master's head, suddenly noticing how the sunshine caught on Frodo's dark curls, how Frodo's shoulders swayed as he walked, how his hands hung delicately at his side. Sam wanted desperately to talk to him, but for some reason his feet refused to move up to where Frodo walked. If only Frodo would turn around.....
Bill nudged Sam from behind, tearing the hobbit from his thoughts. He had fallen behind Merry and Pippin again, and was lagging. Sighing, Sam patted Bill on the nose and continued on after his companions.....
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Neek-breek.....
Neek-breek....
Neek-breek.....
"I am going to go mad!" Merry exclaimed, flailing his arms wildly about his face in an attempt to shoo away some of the midges that were milling around him, biting any bare patch of skin they could find.
"I am being eaten alive!" cried Pippin, crossing his arms in an attempt to shelter the exposed flesh at his wrists. "Midgewater! There are more midges than water!"
They had walked long, over the course of a day, and the sun shined no more. Or perhaps it did, but the clouds of biting midges that buzzed loudly in the faces of the hobbits and the tail and ears of poor Bill made it impossible to see anything but the annoying, tiny insects.
Neek-breek...
Neek-breek....
"Noisome things, whatever they are!" Sam cried, referring to the hidden creatures which made the endless droning "Neek-breek" sound. "Neeker-breekers! Oi!" He slapped at his neck as another midge feasted on his damp skin. "What do they eat when they can't get hobbit?"
"I'd guess pony," conceded Pippin, looking back at the poor beast. "Poor old Bill!"
"Pippin," Merry called warningly, throwing an over the shoulder glance at his young cousin. "Watch where you are going. You're liable to trip, get tangled in these weeds, and drown."
As if on cue, Pippin caught his foot on something unseen in the water and pitched forward, becoming submerged to his elbows in cold, nasty marsh water. Sam attempted to help Pip up as Merry called ahead for Frodo and Strider to wait. Off balance by trying to pull Pippin up and hold onto Bill at the same time, Sam slipped and fell as well, unfortunately onto Pippin, getting them both stuck even more.
With a cry of irritation Merry went to help his friends, lifting his knees high as he trudged through the marish. Sam was already struggling to his feet as Pippin said, as he wiped water from his face, "Lawks! Are you trying to drown me?!"
"Drown you? I was trying to help you!" Sam cried.
"Ha! Villain!" cried Pippin and with a laugh he sent a splash of water into Sam's surprised face. The gardener sputtered and Pippin laughed evilly as Merry wrenched him up to his feet.
"A swamp's not a place for playin', Master Pippin," Sam declared stoically. "And a lucky thing it is for you."
A ways away, Frodo stood ankle deep in swampy water with a look of amusement on his face. Strider stood beside him, trying vainly to keep his cloak out of the water as he watched the three hobbits trying to move and maintain their banter at the same time.
"Are they always like this?" The ranger asked, throwing a sidelong glance down at Frodo. The ring bearer continued to look at his companions, his face lit by a soft love. After a minute more of watching he laughed and looked up at the man, smiling with an undecipherable emotion.
"Only when they are in a dreadfully uncomfortable swamp being eaten by flies, going with a strange man from deadly peril to a place they've only heard of in stories."
Strider smiled, then turned saying, "Collect your friends, Frodo, before the midges do."
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At long last they halted. Merry and Pippin cast themselves on the driest ground the could find, cast their blankets over their heads to try to abate some of the flies (which had not abated, though the neeker-breekers had gone), and tired to sleep.
Strider pulled out his pipe and sat off to the side, smoking and keeping watch over the makeshift campsite. Sam gave Bill an apple as a reward for surviving the day's journey and settled down beside his master. Frodo smiled wanly as Sam made himself as comfortable as was possible against the bulk of his pack.
"Seems everywhere I go there's a dirty-great rock or a root diggin' into my back," the gardener muttered as he fidgeted where he sat. "Shame them Sacksville-Bagginses aren't here. This marish would do them good." Frodo laughed softly, then became solemn again.
"We are far from home," he said simply. "And yet it has not really been that long, has it? Not a month, even."
"No sir, should be just about the beginning of October. " Sam leaned back and looked up at the sky, which was clear despite the black flecks of the midges. A thousand stars smiled down upon them. Sam hummed, looking at them.
"How'd they get up there, do you think?" he asked in a whisper. Frodo regarded him with a smile, then he too looked up at the stars.
"The elves say a Valar put them there. Elbereth, they call her. 'The Star-Kindler."
He moved closer to Sam's side, so that they were touching arms, and leaned close to Sam's ear. "Remember Earendil, Sam? The mariner who set sail for the stars with a Silmaril on his brow? Look!" With that Frodo pointed to the brightest star in the heavens. Sam's followed the direction Frodo was pointed in to gaze at the fair jewel in the sky. Both smiled and remained quiet for a while, gazing at the lights of the Valar.
"Elbereth...."Sam breathed. "......Elbereth...." He turned and looked at Frodo, his eyes alight with a joyful realization. "It was her that the Elves were singing 'bout that night, wasn't it, Frodo?"
Frodo's smile grew. Though he probably had not done it on purpose, Sam had left off the 'Mister' before 'Frodo,' for the first time in all the time they had known each other. Turning his eyes back to the stars, he sighed, and found Sam's hand to give it a loving squeeze.
"Yes, Sam. It was her."
In his secluded area, Strider smiled from behind the curtain of smoke emitted from his pipe and thought of a night when he too had seen the stars, not in the sky, but reflected in the eyes of she who was dearer to him than all else...
Night climbed higher. Still Strider thought. The rest of the campsite slept.
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When Frodo opened his eyes next it was still dark. The gentle snores of Merry and Pippin could be heard a few feet away, and a grunt followed by detached mumbling told Frodo that Sam had finally fallen asleep, despite all his misgivings about Strider. Frodo frowned. What had wakened him? Confused, the hobbit shifted slightly and, still laying down, looked around the campsite once more. Bill the pony pawed the ground restlessly and Frodo smiled knowing he wasn't the only one awake.
A soft voice reached his sensitive hearing, so quiet that it almost melded with the other sounds of the marish. Frodo remained still, his ears straining to catch what the voice was saying. After a moment he realized that the voice was not speaking; it was singing, singing in soft tones elvish words, weaving with the haunting melody the tale of......a woman? Who was singing? Who was this woman?
Curious Frodo sat up, resting his the whole of his weight on his elbows as they propped him up. He saw then, to his amazement, that it was the weather worn voice of Strider that was singing the delicate words. The dark haired man had his back to the hobbit, light tendrils of smoke rising from the pipe he held almost carelessly in his callused hand, and it appeared that he was gazing up at the starlight as he sang, as if searching there for the woman he sang of.
*Who is she?* Frodo wondered, and then realized as Strider turned slightly that he had ventured the question out loud. Blushing slightly, and feeling as if he was intruding, Frodo continued after a beat. "This woman you speak of."
Strider did not turn to regard his half-sized companion, nor did he answer immediately. His head lowered slightly and Frodo saw him raise his pipe to his lips. A moment later the pipe was lowered and a serpent of smoke was released as the man let out a long and slow breath.
"It is the lay of Luthien," Strider said, raising his head so he was looking back out over the dark marsh. "An elven maid who gave her love to Beren, a mortal."
The last was spoken with a strange tone, like a light grief resurfacing at the stirring of a painful memory. Frodo sat quietly, not entirely sure of what to say. Again, his mouth spoke without him thinking about it. "What happened to her?"
Again, Strider bent his scruffy head and took another puff on his pipe. This time he was quiet so long that Frodo thought that he would not answer at all; but then the tall man looked up at the heavens once more and answered softly.
"She died."
Frodo suddenly had the thought that perhaps there was more to Strider's song than the ranger was letting on. Frodo turned his gaze down to study his blanket, suddenly fearful that perhaps Strider was the one Luthien had loved and so died for.
"Did.....did you know her?" Frodo asked cautiously after a long silence had passed.
"Once I believed I had ventured upon her," Strider said very quietly, almost speaking to himself. "But it was a dream." Another puff on his pipe, then these words mingled with the smoke. "Only a dream."
Frodo raised his eyes to look at the silhouetted figure sitting with his back to him a yard or so away. The ranger was now smoking his pipe at his leisure, and his shoulders were squared against the moonlight.
*Just who is this man?* Frodo thought then. *Who is this man who knows Gandalf, who speaks of the elves and claims to be a mere Ranger?* The hobbit knew he would find no answers to these questions at least until they reached Rivendell, but this lack of information did not cause Frodo to be wary of the man. The words in Gandalf's letter came back to him. *Not all those who wander are lost.*
*Perhaps he chooses to wander,* Frodo thought. *Looking for the one he lost...*
Frodo cast a look over the sleeping forms of Merry, Pippin, and Sam. His eyes lingered over Sam, his mind recalling the horrible images from the dream at Bree. Deciding to say no more to Strider on the subject of loss, Frodo curled up alongside his cousins, again took Sam's hand in his, and fell asleep warmed by the presence of his loved ones.
Wishing on a dream that seems far off
Hoping it will come today
Unto the starlit night
Foolish dreamers turn their gaze
Waiting for a shooting star
But, what if that star is not to come
Will their dreams turn to nothing?
When the horizon darkness most
We all need to believe there is hope
Is an Angel watching closely over me?
Can there be a guiding light I've yet to see?
Who will fill this emptiness inside of me?
Am I to be satisfied without knowing?
I wish then for a chance to see
Now all I need, desperately,
Is my star to guide.....
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A/N: Those references about the Valar and Earendil can be found in the Silmarillion. If you like LotR I suggest you pick it up! The song at the end is from Lunar Star....I couldn't find the name of the singer or producer, but I thought it fit with this chapter wonderfully so I decided to use it anyway.
Again, I apologize for the shortness of this entry and the long delay in updates. I'll do my best to get things updated faster, but I have two stories going on at once. Know this, though: If a story hasn't been updated, I am defiantly working on it. I'll never abandon a fic!
Next chapter:
Weathertop proves the hobbit's worst nightmare, and it seems no amount of light-heartedness will be able to stifle the pain felt by Frodo and Sam as one of their number suffers.