-Of Frodo and Sam-
A/N: This goes mostly with the movie in this chapter, otherwise I try to follow the books. You'll probably notice songs in every chapter (hehe), but I love music; it makes the world go round....and this chapter LOL. There is a bit of dialogue from the movie, so you'll probably spot it when you get there. Other than that, LOTR belongs to Tolkien and New Line, this little story plot comes from yours truly. ;)
PS: Excuse my last mistake in my 1st chapter! By Shire Reckoning , the year is 1390, not 2990...oops!!!
Chapter Two: Of Simpler Times
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Shire Reckoning: Borders of the Shire, September (Halimath) the 24th, 1418 T.A.
Clear and splendid did the moon rest upon the quivering trees that undisturbed night. It was a cloudless sky, dotted with what appeared like glittering grains of sand. The chirping of crickets sounded of chimes and gave no comfort to Sam Gamgee. Thrice he backtracked and doubted his own steps and finally he slumped in defeat.
"It's said at last, Mr. Frodo. The trail is lost and there is no way in the Shire we'll find it again in this dark a-night," Samwise muttered crossly and he scanned the ground for any signs of a trail. The ground was moist and carpeted with thick grass and pebbles. Nowhere did he see a dry path under his feet.
Frodo came up to his side and patted his shoulder, "It's quite all right, Sam. I think it is time for us to turn in and get a night's sleep anyway." He said and he came up to a fallen trunk of a thick oak tree. He rested his walking stick against it and Sam plodded next to him and relieved his shoulders from the heavy pack he had been carrying. His back was strong and he was used to carrying heavy loads, but he waited for the day in Bree when his master, himself, and Gandalf would rest in their chairs with mugs of ale.
In no time, Sam had gathered up pieces of dry and dead wood and kindled a gentle fire. They gathered round the burning fire and lit their pipes. The pleasure of the pipes eased their spirits and they smoked in silence.
The trees swayed and trembled in the light wind and Frodo laid down on the ground, his chest face-up to the open sky. Sam joined him, with troubled thoughts of what tomorrow would bring flooding his mind. He turned to his master, his eyes content and pure under the light of the crescent moon. His cheeks were flushed pink and lines of worry and stress had not yet disturbed his blessed face. His pipe was placed between his teeth and he looked up to the heavens and blew the hair off his brow lightheartedly.
Sam smiled and a curious question crossed his mind, "What are you thinking about, Mr. Frodo?"
Frodo faced him for a second and turned back to the tops of the trees, "I was thinking of our old Gandalf and even Bilbo, where ever he has gone, but I suppose I'm thinking of…of the Ring. At first, I found it plain silly to be voyaging far from home just to rid it," He confessed and Sam nodded, yearning for home, "And yes, it does seem quite silly. Just a mere trinket to the unknowing eye…yet, it is much more than that, Sam. 'Tis more powerful then we will ever know, and much more evil too. I can feel its power sometimes; it has tried to direct to places we have passed by and even at times it seems to weigh a little heavier in my pocket. No, dear Sam, it is much more than a pretty ring," He said and his voice was stern, but subtle.
Samwise wore a bothered look in his eyes as he thought of his great evil, lying in the presence of them now. He thought of the battles that had most likely fought over the Ring, many of the men and other creatures perishing for that one power. Then his hobbit-sense took over once more and he envisioned simple things, like food and good pipe-weed.
"And what are you thinking of, Sam?" Frodo asked. His laughing voice was strange in the dark woods and Sam listened to the silence after his voice had faded.
He studied the glowing moon and sighed, "Elves, Mr. Frodo. Wood-elves…I can't get them out of my mind since we saw them passing by last after-noon." And Frodo chuckled at Sam's young mind and interest in the Elves.
"Yes, they are gracious beings, aren't they?" He whispered and he blew a smoke ring in the air. "Gracious…," he repeated and he sighed, "Soon all the frail and elder creatures of Middle-Earth will be passing through the woods and to the sea. It's beginning to end, Sam; the world they lived on is fading."
He rolled onto his side. "Now, now. Enough of this talk of change," Frodo said mostly to himself, "Sam, I'm afraid I cannot say up any longer without my eyes drooping! Goodnight until morning." He shifted on his shoulder, his back to the glowing embers, and let out a long breath.
"See you in the mornin', Mr. Frodo," Sam said and he moved over to his abandoned pack. He took out two thick blankets and draped one over Frodo's shoulders. No wind nor footsteps stirred the still night, and all was silent to the hobbits in the middle of the woods. Sam moved once more on his back, but this time he found more uneasiness. He attempted to move again without making any noise, but his feet crunched loudly on the fallen leaves. The remains of the fire crackled and Sam groaned, wanting sleep to come over him.
"Everywhere I lie there's a dirty great root stickin' into my back," He said to himself, assuming that his master was far off, dreaming, in his comfort. He lifted up to move over to a different spot when Frodo's hushed voice came to his ears.
"Just shut your eyes…and imagine you're back in your own bed---with a soft mattress and a lovely feather pillow," He whispered soothingly, his eyes too weary to open to look at Sam.
Sam laid back down as he cleared his mind. Ok, Sam Gamgee, think of home. Think of your pillow lying on your soft bed…, he thought. He lay flat and closed his eyes tight, imagining the ground softening under his very skin. He opened his eyes and let out an aggravated sigh as the ground bit and poked at his back, "It's not working, Mr. Frodo…I'm never going to be able to sleep out 'ere." He cuddled his blanket and glanced at his open pack. He grabbed a dry loaf of bread and ate the bread leisurely, trying to forget about the roots and rocks in his back.
Frodo smiled good-hearted and he spoke softly, "Me neither, Sam." His back was sore from the painfully firm ground but thoughts of Bag End made the irritation on his back easier. His breath slowed down and his cheek brushed the cool earth. If finding a restful sleep every night was the top of their worries for the rest of their quest, Frodo knew that he might wind up in a story like dear Bilbo. One with plenty adventure and thrills, all the while coming home in the end to a safe fire in the hearth. He heard Sam finish his bread and try to grapple with thoughts of sleep once more, when Frodo thought of his Bilbo and the Shire. The wind stilled and Frodo tranquil and rich voice whispered through the trees as he sang from his thoughts…
Passing days and simple ways
And listening for your return;
Fading stars and forgotten wars,
Memories of you, 'tis what I yearn.
They will come, time does pass,
When dreams take over my pretty lass;
Take me in and bring me home,
Woods of white is where I'll roam.
Frodo let his heart at ease and finally, slumber took him away and into an easy sleep. Sam listened and wiped his eyes before any tears flowed down his cheeks. And for the rest of the night, he mouthed the song in his secure sleep.