Judgment Reckoning
Chapter Nine
Author: Kidders
Fandom: Lord Of The Rings, The Two Towers
Pairings: None, no slash
Genre: Angst, drama, h/c
Disclaimers: See Chapter One
Setting: Movie-verse mostly, AU, so anything goes
A/N: Thank you all for your kind reviews, everyone who continues to write in. Know that lately, due to real life issues and the stress of dealing with a chronic illness, my free time has been limited. I have devoted most of it to writing, so my great apologies for not sending reviews of late. Actually, the rare occasions I decided to go online and catch up, ff.net was always giving me a 'too busy' message. Very annoying, I do wish the problem to be fixed soon. As for JR, a few people felt the story was getting a bit slow and dragging (the curse of writing a long tale), so I hope last chapter picked up the pace. Hope this one won't be too boring, as I am actually going to try to do some comfort here. It'll be tenuous at best, as comfort is not my forte, but some people have requested it and I felt the story needed just a pinch. Also, rhyming song is not one of my talents either, but I gave it a shot. If this is a slow and easy coast, be warned, there are troubled waters ahead in the next chapter. Enjoy!
Chapter Nine POV: Sam
My master's in a dismal peck of trouble, and I wish flat out I was a crafty wizard or a healer like Strider so I'd be able to help him proper. Here Frodo's taken to dwelling upon things that should rightly stay tucked away in memory, and forgetting the gist of what's important. He ain't to blame, of course-it's the work of that vile trinket creased 'round his neck. Only it's nestled in my pocket, see? I don't know how my master managed it, but when Faramir snuck up on us, Frodo must've been more scared the Ring'd be discovered, for he yanked it off its chain and slid it into my breeches, so sly the Captain didn't notice.
The battered toll it takes is more than miserable enough, leaving him with a pining to hold it again, so bad Frodo aches with the pain of it. His precious. Precious nuisance, more like. What happens next is wholly my own fault. My Gaffer always told me I had a fool's knack for blabbing when I shouldn't, and what a sorry sight I must be, proving him right. With Faramir staring down my master like he's figured out our riddle, I go and blurt, "Mr. Frodo, no! Ya can't tell 'im of the Ring-" I feel my face flame, a guilty heat scouring blame. "Valar watch over us, what 'ave I done?" I cry. For I've gone and laid our secret bare with a shameful slip of my tongue.
Frodo's eyes go wide as saucers, and the Captain. When I look 'round, Faramir's eyes gleam intently under the dim light of the torch, part of his face hidden by shadow, and making him seem as sinister as those Orcs who surrounded us in Moria. I gulp, unable to look away.
"Where is is?" he demands hoarsely, not sounding himself one bit.
"Oh dear! Ya can't blame Frodo, Sir. Not when I'm the ninny causin' the problem," I yammer, desperate to undo my blunder. He won't take the Ring, surely? He'll want it, just like his brother, but he can't take it, not with Frodo so o'erworn and haggard. My master couldn't bear to lose it now.
"A host of men at my call," murmurs the Captain, stepping so close I could reach and touch him, not that I want to. "And two halflings caught in the wild. A chance for Faramir, Captain of Gondor, to show his quality. Where is it? Where is this Ring?"
"It's mine," Frodo whimpers, "given to me. Only my own."
"Frodo does not carry it," Faramir whispers, in such a quiet way I retreat a smidgen, 'til my bottom's pressed straight back into the cot. I feel Frodo's hand clasp and paw at my pocket, though I daren't take my eyes from the Captain. "Which means you must, Master Gardener. I ask once more, where is the Ring of Power?"
"He shall steal it, Sam. You mustn't let him have it!" Set to trembling, I can barely breathe. That I hear the echo of that treacherous Gollum in my master's voice don't help my state in the least. "I will certainly die without it!"
Frodo's questing fingers find the broken chain, and I hear him moan- not a cry of pain, 'tis a gasp of perverted relief that he's found his treasure. I glance up at Faramir, my stomach giving a sick lurch. "Look at 'im," I growl tetchily. "Goin' without the Ring is drivin' 'im mad, besides the grief an' bleedin' taking his strength. 'E can't take much more, it'll kill 'im! Frodo won't keep still unless 'e's got his precious band o' gold. It's plain as the nose on yer face e's already tied to it! You want ta show yer quality, you'll let us go!"
Faramir glowers, gripping his offended hand as though it aches fiercely. He shakes his head. "Understand, I am duty bound to seize anything that might sway Gondor's plight in this war. I have granted you much favor, for it would be well within my rights by law to order you both executed."
I nearly swoon, and repeat numbly, "Kill us? But we've done nothin' wrong 'cept ta cross yer lands."
"Which is why I've taken exception on your behalf." He extends his hand, eyes gleaming like a hungry wolf ready to move in for the kill. "The Ring?" He wants it, nearly as much as Boromir did. That shady circlet is calling to him.
"Saaammm." Frodo's call is wretched, cracked in a wail of despair that don't stop 'til he's run out of air. I turn, see my master's fist clenched around the thing, and whirl on the Captain. Blessed be, please don't let him be motley enough to pry it from Frodo's fingers.
"How can ya do this? Ask such a price ta pay?" I feel tears begin to brim in my eyes, and blink angrily. "You swore ta make 'im well, ya gave yer word! Or don't that mean nothin' where yer from?"
"It does indeed." He rubs his temple, looking at me through narrowed eyes. "We will speak of this later. The Ring will go to Gondor, but Frodo may keep it for now."
I sway, sighing out the breath I'd been holding in. How I'll deal with the Captain's demand, I can't fathom. 'Tis no use to put up a fuss right away, there's my master to see to. I glance over my shoulder, and ain't surprised by Frodo's reaction. He's quailed by fits of shivering, right hand locked tight over his breast, eyes winked shut. They don't even flicker when I whisper his name. Not liking the look of him, I fret over what to do.
"His body cannot sustain its temperature, it is marshaling a defense against the loss of vital fluids," Faramir says, causing me to jump and slew my gaze around. The Captain utters a weary sigh, eyes no longer ready to reave the Ring from Frodo on a blackened whim. "You needn't worry, Sam. I gave a vow to help him, and I shall honor it."
"What's truly wrong with 'im?"
"Frodo was struck in a place along the side and back not well protected. There is no bone to shield what lies inside, and the force of the impact was intensified since the stone fell from a great height."
I touch Frodo's icy hand, drape it with my own fist. "What lies inside?"
"An organ, hollow and sponge-like, shaped like a bean. I do not know its purpose, but the blood when he passes his stream is sign enough that it was injured."
"Can it be fixed? If it's inside where we can't get?" I am close to despair. Surely we've not come this far for Mr. Frodo to meet his death this way.
Faramir nods slowly. "There is a chance." Eyes growing distant, he gestures to the cot. "Lie down beside him, Sam. Lend him the warmth of your body, it will ease the strain he suffers. I shall get extra blankets."
Gingerly, I do as I'm told, though how much it'll benefit my master I can't see, as it's only hip to shoulder I can reach. Sliding my back to his side, I scoot in close. The Captain piles three blankets atop of us, leaving me to wonder how long before I'm boiling under all this trapping. After tucking in the last corner, Faramir bends down, his look so grim I can't tell what dodgy thoughts are shifting in his head. I shrink in fear, and he withdraws a pace.
"Keep him warm, keep him still," he warns, delivering a full leather cask into the hand I've managed to free from its prison. "And soon, you must convince your master to imbibe some liquid. Have him drink much, and often." He raises a mug of glazed brown clay, slipping it beneath our mattress, and moves to a chiseled inset leading to the main cavern. "There is something I must attend to. I shall return shortly."
Finally, he's gone. We're alone, more or less. With only one caper burning, I can look at the ceiling and not stew over the tears coursing down my cheeks. The rock's got little sparkles in it, and they glow like the stars in the night sky. If I close my eyes, and listen to the distant patter of pouring water, I can nearly pretend it's a storm blowing in from the east. Then I hear my master grunt, a sorely lament to yank me right out of thinking such nonsense. You old cabbage, I scold myself, your Gaffer'd take a stick to you if he knew how you was dreaming of the Shire like you hadn't a care, when Mr. Frodo's in such a grave way.
My master stirs roughly, shuddering one minute then going pithlessly limp the next. I gather my wits, and ask, "Is it at all better?"
Frodo hesitates, like he's too tuckered out to answer, then sighs shakily. "I do not like lying like this. I'll never be able to rest properly. I've not slept on my back.not since Rivendell.I never do so."
"Ya 'ave to stay quiet. The Captain said 'tis because yer wound inside must 'ave a chance ta heal."
"I have not the energy nor the will to move, Sam. I just wish.the p- pain in my back might ease. I barely feel the pinch of my shoulder now, even my head has stopped aching, but my back feels like it's been skewered through by a white-hot dagger." I can feel him struggling to take slow and careful breaths, only no valiant effort can halt the quiver in his voice. "I w-want to see my friends and cousins again. Just.our fellowship is truly b-broken, isn't it? Faramir knows I have it.the R-ring. He's going to try and t-take it, Sam! I won't be able to endure it! Those few moments when I placed it in your pocket, I wanted.I felt as though I were dying. The darkness closed in and." He gulps, voice mulled by terrible loss. "The Shire isn't there anymore. It was what I was holding onto, the one t-thing I had left. You were right.about everything. The Ring's taken me, Sam."
The air of worn acceptance in his tone stirs me to protest. "That ain't so! I know the burden's wearin' on you, so bad ya don't want ta go on at times. It's got a toe-hold, aye, but you've still got some say. The Shire is there, Mr. Frodo. As long as one o' us can hold it dear, it'll keep on. I can give it back to ya, if you'll let me, Master. Startin' with Strider."
"Strider," Frodo echoes, sounding gloomy. "I know his name, yet."
"Can ya see 'im?" I ask hopefully.
His arm does a twitch against my side. "No."
"Well, it's been awhile-a sorrowfully, long time by my reckoning- since we've 'ad a song or somebody told a tale. Maybe this rhyme will do the trick. Let me see.
A Ranger at ease with 'erb or blade
Smote by gallantry that'll never fade
We met at Bree in an Inn full o' men
Not the time knowin' 'e was Isildur's kin
'E guided us true all the way ta Rivendell
Sent those Riders scatterin' on a confounded yell
Kind blue eyes paired to an easy smile
Only 'e could coax Frodo to take concoctions most vile
Strider we called 'im, thou 'is proper name's Aragorn
A man who'll be king, our allegiance 'tis sworn.
"Aragorn.Sam, that was wonderful." The change in Frodo is striking, his voice warming like a starved root brought water. "I don't know how you do it. Weave such clever words. I can see him now. Quite clearly."
"Then ya won't be adverse to another?"
"No, please," he prompts breathlessly, "I'd forgotten how much I miss something as simple as a song."
"Remember 'ow Merry an' Pippin joined us on the quest?" The sudden silence from him makes me realize my blunder, and I hum softly. My poor tired head better not quit on me, not when I need it most.
A Took an' a Brandybuck, who'd 'ave thought
Would come an' knock us flat in Farmer Maggot's crop
Followin' us far out o' the Shire
Stickin' close when things turned dire
We 'ope they've found a safer path
An' somewhere cozy to 'ave a bath.
Frodo makes a soft noise that sounds as awful lot like a snicker. I turn slightly, pulling the blanket close, and finally feel the unnatural stiffness the pain's twisted him into begin to melt. He ain't being aggravated so, now that the hubbub's died down. "Well, there's more to this story.
A Dwarf an' Elf did join our quest
Their constant bickerin' sorely put us to the test
Arguing over whose mark 'twas straighter
'Til even their friends wanted ta gag them, I'd wager
But truer bravery ya never did see
Than Legolas an' Gimli fightin' ta keep us free.
A muffled laugh, mostly snorted through his nose, makes Frodo wince. "'Tis been a long time since I've enjoyed any merriment," he quietly admits. "I never thought out here 'twould be possible. Had I come alone-" He shudders, spooked by the notion. "Why did you do it, Sam? Leave the others? My doom is already laid before me, it shouldn't claim you as well. 'Twas my ill fortune I could not bring myself to leave the Company sooner. Now, we're caught in a ruinous snare, with no way out. It seems hopeless."
"You'll forgive me for sayin', but that account is fit only to heap in the rubbish cart!" I argue. "I came with ya 'cause I promised Gandalf, only that ain't the only reason. I followed so you wouldn't 'ave to bear yer burden all alone. I know ya think you ought, it's just plain wrong ta 'ave a mind like that. You do need 'elp, an' my da' always said when a lad's got trouble sittin' down ta supper, you save an extra spot at the table."
We lie in silence for a spell, then Frodo whispers, "Gandalf.he's gone, isn't he?"
No sense in fibbing. "Yes, sir, I'm sorry ta say. Gandalf's the last one derservin' mention, if you'd be wanting to 'ear it."
"Yes." Though Frodo's sigh is trodden with grief, there's a wistfulness to it that says how much the old wizard meant to him. "I don't wish him to remain lost, fallen out of my mind.into.into shadow."
My master's breathing hard, and a bleakness settles over us like a dark cloud. Ignoring the rumblings of my stomach, I vow, "'E won't, Mr. Frodo. I shall fare 'im a proper tribute.
With twinklin' eyes an' beard o' gray
A staff that glimmered like a sun-lit ray
Never a better wizard would ya meet
Eagerly did we gather for a story at 'is feet
Bold deeds an' long journey did make our quest
Told by those o' us who knew 'im best
Ta be remembered in times o' need
So 'is words o' wisdom would we heed
Gandalf the Gray was 'is name
The Shire without 'im shan't be the same.
I sniff, suddenly feeling teary-eyed again. "By comparison, a nobler effort I'll say, though it still don't do 'im justice."
"It was more than enough, Sam," Frodo expresses after a resolved sigh. "You have given them all back to me. I shall never be able to repay your kindness, but I am thankful for it. So glad that you're here w-with me."
I hear him yawn, then his wrist bumps gently against my hip. His fingers ain't coiled in such a desperate neaf any longer, though I bet the Gaffer's secret recipe that were I to look, I'd glimpse the Ring cupped in his palm. I catch myself in sudden, wide yawn, and scrub my forehead. "You gone on ta sleep, Mr. Frodo. I'll say awake an' keep watch."
"Sleep," he murmurs in a whisper of longing. "Yes, I should very much like to rest awhile."
To Be Continued.
A/N: Special mention of thanks to the following: Shirebound and Budgielover, it was you two who asked for Frodo comfort, so I tried to oblige. I am much better at angst, but the story needed it, and it was a rather unique challenge to write. Hope you liked. And Frodo Baggins of Bag End, I feel your pain. I don't know what illness squicks your health, but as someone who bears the burden of a chronic disease, I know what it can take out of you. Sort of our own Ring to bear. But I salute you for the effort you put into your yahoo site to keep it up and running. No small feat, and I applaud your efforts. I'm having a lot of fun here!
Chapter Nine
Author: Kidders
Fandom: Lord Of The Rings, The Two Towers
Pairings: None, no slash
Genre: Angst, drama, h/c
Disclaimers: See Chapter One
Setting: Movie-verse mostly, AU, so anything goes
A/N: Thank you all for your kind reviews, everyone who continues to write in. Know that lately, due to real life issues and the stress of dealing with a chronic illness, my free time has been limited. I have devoted most of it to writing, so my great apologies for not sending reviews of late. Actually, the rare occasions I decided to go online and catch up, ff.net was always giving me a 'too busy' message. Very annoying, I do wish the problem to be fixed soon. As for JR, a few people felt the story was getting a bit slow and dragging (the curse of writing a long tale), so I hope last chapter picked up the pace. Hope this one won't be too boring, as I am actually going to try to do some comfort here. It'll be tenuous at best, as comfort is not my forte, but some people have requested it and I felt the story needed just a pinch. Also, rhyming song is not one of my talents either, but I gave it a shot. If this is a slow and easy coast, be warned, there are troubled waters ahead in the next chapter. Enjoy!
Chapter Nine POV: Sam
My master's in a dismal peck of trouble, and I wish flat out I was a crafty wizard or a healer like Strider so I'd be able to help him proper. Here Frodo's taken to dwelling upon things that should rightly stay tucked away in memory, and forgetting the gist of what's important. He ain't to blame, of course-it's the work of that vile trinket creased 'round his neck. Only it's nestled in my pocket, see? I don't know how my master managed it, but when Faramir snuck up on us, Frodo must've been more scared the Ring'd be discovered, for he yanked it off its chain and slid it into my breeches, so sly the Captain didn't notice.
The battered toll it takes is more than miserable enough, leaving him with a pining to hold it again, so bad Frodo aches with the pain of it. His precious. Precious nuisance, more like. What happens next is wholly my own fault. My Gaffer always told me I had a fool's knack for blabbing when I shouldn't, and what a sorry sight I must be, proving him right. With Faramir staring down my master like he's figured out our riddle, I go and blurt, "Mr. Frodo, no! Ya can't tell 'im of the Ring-" I feel my face flame, a guilty heat scouring blame. "Valar watch over us, what 'ave I done?" I cry. For I've gone and laid our secret bare with a shameful slip of my tongue.
Frodo's eyes go wide as saucers, and the Captain. When I look 'round, Faramir's eyes gleam intently under the dim light of the torch, part of his face hidden by shadow, and making him seem as sinister as those Orcs who surrounded us in Moria. I gulp, unable to look away.
"Where is is?" he demands hoarsely, not sounding himself one bit.
"Oh dear! Ya can't blame Frodo, Sir. Not when I'm the ninny causin' the problem," I yammer, desperate to undo my blunder. He won't take the Ring, surely? He'll want it, just like his brother, but he can't take it, not with Frodo so o'erworn and haggard. My master couldn't bear to lose it now.
"A host of men at my call," murmurs the Captain, stepping so close I could reach and touch him, not that I want to. "And two halflings caught in the wild. A chance for Faramir, Captain of Gondor, to show his quality. Where is it? Where is this Ring?"
"It's mine," Frodo whimpers, "given to me. Only my own."
"Frodo does not carry it," Faramir whispers, in such a quiet way I retreat a smidgen, 'til my bottom's pressed straight back into the cot. I feel Frodo's hand clasp and paw at my pocket, though I daren't take my eyes from the Captain. "Which means you must, Master Gardener. I ask once more, where is the Ring of Power?"
"He shall steal it, Sam. You mustn't let him have it!" Set to trembling, I can barely breathe. That I hear the echo of that treacherous Gollum in my master's voice don't help my state in the least. "I will certainly die without it!"
Frodo's questing fingers find the broken chain, and I hear him moan- not a cry of pain, 'tis a gasp of perverted relief that he's found his treasure. I glance up at Faramir, my stomach giving a sick lurch. "Look at 'im," I growl tetchily. "Goin' without the Ring is drivin' 'im mad, besides the grief an' bleedin' taking his strength. 'E can't take much more, it'll kill 'im! Frodo won't keep still unless 'e's got his precious band o' gold. It's plain as the nose on yer face e's already tied to it! You want ta show yer quality, you'll let us go!"
Faramir glowers, gripping his offended hand as though it aches fiercely. He shakes his head. "Understand, I am duty bound to seize anything that might sway Gondor's plight in this war. I have granted you much favor, for it would be well within my rights by law to order you both executed."
I nearly swoon, and repeat numbly, "Kill us? But we've done nothin' wrong 'cept ta cross yer lands."
"Which is why I've taken exception on your behalf." He extends his hand, eyes gleaming like a hungry wolf ready to move in for the kill. "The Ring?" He wants it, nearly as much as Boromir did. That shady circlet is calling to him.
"Saaammm." Frodo's call is wretched, cracked in a wail of despair that don't stop 'til he's run out of air. I turn, see my master's fist clenched around the thing, and whirl on the Captain. Blessed be, please don't let him be motley enough to pry it from Frodo's fingers.
"How can ya do this? Ask such a price ta pay?" I feel tears begin to brim in my eyes, and blink angrily. "You swore ta make 'im well, ya gave yer word! Or don't that mean nothin' where yer from?"
"It does indeed." He rubs his temple, looking at me through narrowed eyes. "We will speak of this later. The Ring will go to Gondor, but Frodo may keep it for now."
I sway, sighing out the breath I'd been holding in. How I'll deal with the Captain's demand, I can't fathom. 'Tis no use to put up a fuss right away, there's my master to see to. I glance over my shoulder, and ain't surprised by Frodo's reaction. He's quailed by fits of shivering, right hand locked tight over his breast, eyes winked shut. They don't even flicker when I whisper his name. Not liking the look of him, I fret over what to do.
"His body cannot sustain its temperature, it is marshaling a defense against the loss of vital fluids," Faramir says, causing me to jump and slew my gaze around. The Captain utters a weary sigh, eyes no longer ready to reave the Ring from Frodo on a blackened whim. "You needn't worry, Sam. I gave a vow to help him, and I shall honor it."
"What's truly wrong with 'im?"
"Frodo was struck in a place along the side and back not well protected. There is no bone to shield what lies inside, and the force of the impact was intensified since the stone fell from a great height."
I touch Frodo's icy hand, drape it with my own fist. "What lies inside?"
"An organ, hollow and sponge-like, shaped like a bean. I do not know its purpose, but the blood when he passes his stream is sign enough that it was injured."
"Can it be fixed? If it's inside where we can't get?" I am close to despair. Surely we've not come this far for Mr. Frodo to meet his death this way.
Faramir nods slowly. "There is a chance." Eyes growing distant, he gestures to the cot. "Lie down beside him, Sam. Lend him the warmth of your body, it will ease the strain he suffers. I shall get extra blankets."
Gingerly, I do as I'm told, though how much it'll benefit my master I can't see, as it's only hip to shoulder I can reach. Sliding my back to his side, I scoot in close. The Captain piles three blankets atop of us, leaving me to wonder how long before I'm boiling under all this trapping. After tucking in the last corner, Faramir bends down, his look so grim I can't tell what dodgy thoughts are shifting in his head. I shrink in fear, and he withdraws a pace.
"Keep him warm, keep him still," he warns, delivering a full leather cask into the hand I've managed to free from its prison. "And soon, you must convince your master to imbibe some liquid. Have him drink much, and often." He raises a mug of glazed brown clay, slipping it beneath our mattress, and moves to a chiseled inset leading to the main cavern. "There is something I must attend to. I shall return shortly."
Finally, he's gone. We're alone, more or less. With only one caper burning, I can look at the ceiling and not stew over the tears coursing down my cheeks. The rock's got little sparkles in it, and they glow like the stars in the night sky. If I close my eyes, and listen to the distant patter of pouring water, I can nearly pretend it's a storm blowing in from the east. Then I hear my master grunt, a sorely lament to yank me right out of thinking such nonsense. You old cabbage, I scold myself, your Gaffer'd take a stick to you if he knew how you was dreaming of the Shire like you hadn't a care, when Mr. Frodo's in such a grave way.
My master stirs roughly, shuddering one minute then going pithlessly limp the next. I gather my wits, and ask, "Is it at all better?"
Frodo hesitates, like he's too tuckered out to answer, then sighs shakily. "I do not like lying like this. I'll never be able to rest properly. I've not slept on my back.not since Rivendell.I never do so."
"Ya 'ave to stay quiet. The Captain said 'tis because yer wound inside must 'ave a chance ta heal."
"I have not the energy nor the will to move, Sam. I just wish.the p- pain in my back might ease. I barely feel the pinch of my shoulder now, even my head has stopped aching, but my back feels like it's been skewered through by a white-hot dagger." I can feel him struggling to take slow and careful breaths, only no valiant effort can halt the quiver in his voice. "I w-want to see my friends and cousins again. Just.our fellowship is truly b-broken, isn't it? Faramir knows I have it.the R-ring. He's going to try and t-take it, Sam! I won't be able to endure it! Those few moments when I placed it in your pocket, I wanted.I felt as though I were dying. The darkness closed in and." He gulps, voice mulled by terrible loss. "The Shire isn't there anymore. It was what I was holding onto, the one t-thing I had left. You were right.about everything. The Ring's taken me, Sam."
The air of worn acceptance in his tone stirs me to protest. "That ain't so! I know the burden's wearin' on you, so bad ya don't want ta go on at times. It's got a toe-hold, aye, but you've still got some say. The Shire is there, Mr. Frodo. As long as one o' us can hold it dear, it'll keep on. I can give it back to ya, if you'll let me, Master. Startin' with Strider."
"Strider," Frodo echoes, sounding gloomy. "I know his name, yet."
"Can ya see 'im?" I ask hopefully.
His arm does a twitch against my side. "No."
"Well, it's been awhile-a sorrowfully, long time by my reckoning- since we've 'ad a song or somebody told a tale. Maybe this rhyme will do the trick. Let me see.
A Ranger at ease with 'erb or blade
Smote by gallantry that'll never fade
We met at Bree in an Inn full o' men
Not the time knowin' 'e was Isildur's kin
'E guided us true all the way ta Rivendell
Sent those Riders scatterin' on a confounded yell
Kind blue eyes paired to an easy smile
Only 'e could coax Frodo to take concoctions most vile
Strider we called 'im, thou 'is proper name's Aragorn
A man who'll be king, our allegiance 'tis sworn.
"Aragorn.Sam, that was wonderful." The change in Frodo is striking, his voice warming like a starved root brought water. "I don't know how you do it. Weave such clever words. I can see him now. Quite clearly."
"Then ya won't be adverse to another?"
"No, please," he prompts breathlessly, "I'd forgotten how much I miss something as simple as a song."
"Remember 'ow Merry an' Pippin joined us on the quest?" The sudden silence from him makes me realize my blunder, and I hum softly. My poor tired head better not quit on me, not when I need it most.
A Took an' a Brandybuck, who'd 'ave thought
Would come an' knock us flat in Farmer Maggot's crop
Followin' us far out o' the Shire
Stickin' close when things turned dire
We 'ope they've found a safer path
An' somewhere cozy to 'ave a bath.
Frodo makes a soft noise that sounds as awful lot like a snicker. I turn slightly, pulling the blanket close, and finally feel the unnatural stiffness the pain's twisted him into begin to melt. He ain't being aggravated so, now that the hubbub's died down. "Well, there's more to this story.
A Dwarf an' Elf did join our quest
Their constant bickerin' sorely put us to the test
Arguing over whose mark 'twas straighter
'Til even their friends wanted ta gag them, I'd wager
But truer bravery ya never did see
Than Legolas an' Gimli fightin' ta keep us free.
A muffled laugh, mostly snorted through his nose, makes Frodo wince. "'Tis been a long time since I've enjoyed any merriment," he quietly admits. "I never thought out here 'twould be possible. Had I come alone-" He shudders, spooked by the notion. "Why did you do it, Sam? Leave the others? My doom is already laid before me, it shouldn't claim you as well. 'Twas my ill fortune I could not bring myself to leave the Company sooner. Now, we're caught in a ruinous snare, with no way out. It seems hopeless."
"You'll forgive me for sayin', but that account is fit only to heap in the rubbish cart!" I argue. "I came with ya 'cause I promised Gandalf, only that ain't the only reason. I followed so you wouldn't 'ave to bear yer burden all alone. I know ya think you ought, it's just plain wrong ta 'ave a mind like that. You do need 'elp, an' my da' always said when a lad's got trouble sittin' down ta supper, you save an extra spot at the table."
We lie in silence for a spell, then Frodo whispers, "Gandalf.he's gone, isn't he?"
No sense in fibbing. "Yes, sir, I'm sorry ta say. Gandalf's the last one derservin' mention, if you'd be wanting to 'ear it."
"Yes." Though Frodo's sigh is trodden with grief, there's a wistfulness to it that says how much the old wizard meant to him. "I don't wish him to remain lost, fallen out of my mind.into.into shadow."
My master's breathing hard, and a bleakness settles over us like a dark cloud. Ignoring the rumblings of my stomach, I vow, "'E won't, Mr. Frodo. I shall fare 'im a proper tribute.
With twinklin' eyes an' beard o' gray
A staff that glimmered like a sun-lit ray
Never a better wizard would ya meet
Eagerly did we gather for a story at 'is feet
Bold deeds an' long journey did make our quest
Told by those o' us who knew 'im best
Ta be remembered in times o' need
So 'is words o' wisdom would we heed
Gandalf the Gray was 'is name
The Shire without 'im shan't be the same.
I sniff, suddenly feeling teary-eyed again. "By comparison, a nobler effort I'll say, though it still don't do 'im justice."
"It was more than enough, Sam," Frodo expresses after a resolved sigh. "You have given them all back to me. I shall never be able to repay your kindness, but I am thankful for it. So glad that you're here w-with me."
I hear him yawn, then his wrist bumps gently against my hip. His fingers ain't coiled in such a desperate neaf any longer, though I bet the Gaffer's secret recipe that were I to look, I'd glimpse the Ring cupped in his palm. I catch myself in sudden, wide yawn, and scrub my forehead. "You gone on ta sleep, Mr. Frodo. I'll say awake an' keep watch."
"Sleep," he murmurs in a whisper of longing. "Yes, I should very much like to rest awhile."
To Be Continued.
A/N: Special mention of thanks to the following: Shirebound and Budgielover, it was you two who asked for Frodo comfort, so I tried to oblige. I am much better at angst, but the story needed it, and it was a rather unique challenge to write. Hope you liked. And Frodo Baggins of Bag End, I feel your pain. I don't know what illness squicks your health, but as someone who bears the burden of a chronic disease, I know what it can take out of you. Sort of our own Ring to bear. But I salute you for the effort you put into your yahoo site to keep it up and running. No small feat, and I applaud your efforts. I'm having a lot of fun here!