Thanks for the reviews everyone!
Laurasjlr: Well, this should at least explain why the lady doesn't like Sam! She's first and foremost an insufferable snob! I look forward to more of your new story!
Hey Samwise the Strong: Yeah, there's more. I tend to write fairly lengthy stories, as you know! Don't know how long this one will end up being, though. I'm currently up to chapter 10!
Aly: Thanks for the review (BTW, LOVE the dance!). I hope you enjoy this story as much as the others. Can't have too many Sam stories (I actually planned on writing one about Merry, but since I found this one again, figured I'd just go with it!).
Althea: I did debate for a long time about posting this story. I don't think it's bad or anything just different! I hope you continue to enjoy it!
DISCLAIMER: For some reason, I always forget this in the first chapter! The characters and story of Lord of the Rings are not mine, but the exclusive property and creation of JRR Tolkien.
Chapter 2 Lady Uzelle
Frodo had been having such a wonderful time; it was quite some time before he realized Sam was gone. It had been so long since the Ringbearer had been able to relax and enjoy himself that he wanted to savor every minute of this delightful merry making. He laughed as he watched Merry and Pippin singing their favorite tavern songs, teaching the laughing audience the choruses to some of the more raucous ones.
"It certainly is good to see you laugh again, Frodo," smiled Gandalf warmly. "It has been much too long!"
Frodo took a long drink of ale and leaned back in his chair. "It feels wonderful!" he exclaimed, a weary smile on his face. "I feel as if the weight of the world has been lifted from my shoulders!" He took another swig of ale, then surveyed the boisterous room before him. Everyone seemed to be having a marvelous time. Gradually, Frodo's grin was replaced by a troubled frown. "Where is Sam?" he asked suddenly sitting straight in his chair looking about for his friend.
His companions stood up from the table and did their best to peer through the amorphous crowd. Aragorn, Gandalf, and Eomer, who also sat with them, began to work through the people, trying to track down the missing gardener.
"Oh he left some time ago, my lord," replied a guard at the door in response Aragorn's question. "He looked exhausted and none too happy, poor lad. Appeared to me like the party was a bit too much for the little fellow." Aragorn nodded. It would seem that Sam had simply retired early. It probably had been too much for him, after all he had just awakened from his long sleep. Aragorn turned and reported back to Frodo.
"I think it is perhaps time you too retired," said Gandalf thoughtfully. "You and Sam both were very close to death and have just barely risen from your beds. We would not want you to overdo. In addition, I believe I would feel better if we made certain Samwise returned safely to his chamber." Frodo nodded, feeling reluctant to leave, but more concerned for the safety of his friend.
The next few weeks were full of activities as the city prepared for the king's coronation. The Hobbits were often invited to banquets and soirees held in honor of the coronation and the success of Frodo's Quest. However, not all the Hobbits seemed equally welcomed. Sam noticed more and more frequently that when he attended one of these events at Frodo's side, the other guests often ignored him. Once, while seated at a dinner table, the footman passed right over him and it wasn't until Frodo spoke up that the man acknowledged Sam's presence and served him his dinner. Sam certainly did not crave the limelight. He was content to remain in the background and let the other Hobbits garner the attention, but even he didn't like being treated as if he didn't exist. Thus, he was increasingly reluctant to attend these public events.
On the eve of Aragorn's coronation, there was to be held the biggest ball yet. Everyone of importance was to be invited. Everyone, that is, but Samwise Gamgee. One cool evening, Sam was walking down the road through one of the upper tiers of the city, when an elaborately carved sedan chair, carried by four muscular footmen pulled up along side him. Sam stopped in surprise when he heard a voice call his name.
"Master Gamgee!" He turned and found himself facing the unpleasant woman from the first ball. She was leaning through the small window in the door peering down her long nose at him. Sam had noticed her at several events since, but she seemed to make a point of ignoring him completely. "Master Gamgee!" she called again. "Might I have a word with you?" Hesitantly, Sam approached the enclosed conveyance. Another footman appeared, opened the door and lowered the steps leading inside. Reluctantly now, Sam climbed in.
The woman studied him coldly, Her shrewd eyes missed nothing, noting his simple clothes and shy, uncomfortable manner. She waited until the door was closed before speaking. "Master Gamgee," she began abruptly, "Do you know who I am?"
Sam, his eyes lowered nervously, glanced up at her and shook his head. "No, my lady, I... I'm afraid I don't."
"I am Lady Uzelle, wife of Lord Angarhad, the wealthiest and most influential man in this city, besides the King, of course and perhaps Lord Faramir. I am in charge of organizing the pre-coronation banquet next week. I am sure you are aware of it?"
Puzzled, Sam nodded again. He looked up into the woman's face as if hoping for a clue that would help him understand what was going on here. She sighed impatiently, shaking her head. "Master Gamgee, let me get straight to the point. In your homeland, I believe that you are a, uh, gardener. Is that correct?"
This was getting stranger with every passing minute. Did she want him trim her hedges? "Yes, my lady," he replied slowly. "I work for Mr. Frodo tending his gardens at Bag End."
The woman smiled disdainfully. "Yes, that is what I had heard." she said with a note of triumph in her voice. "Master Gamgee, I do not know if you are aware of it, but here in Minas Tirith, we have established very firm boundaries between what is acceptable behavior in a servant and what is not. For example, for a servant to attend a formal function as a guest, even at the behest of his master is not acceptable behavior. Do you understand?" Sam stared at her outright now. What did she mean?
Lady Uzelle rolled her eyes at Sam's look of confusion. This just confirmed her opinion that Frodo Baggin's manservant was not especially intelligent. "What I am saying," she said slowly, "Is that you are not invited to the ball. Have you not noticed that people are less than welcoming when you show up with your master?" Sam's face burned. "Well, I wish to avoid further embarrassment for us all, especially you, Master Gamgee," she added, trying to sound kindly. She failed miserably. Her message came across loud and clear. Because he was a gardener back home, he was nothing more than the hired help in this woman's eyes. It didn't matter to her that he was a hero of Middle Earth, he was first and foremost a servant and not welcome in her world.
Again, Sam felt his face grow hot with humiliation. He had never been treated like this in his entire life. It was true that he didn't come from the upper echelons of Hobbit society like Mr. Frodo or Merry and Pippin, but he had always been treated well by them. Obviously the members of Minas Tirith society did not wish to fraternize with the "help". "I...I understand, my lady," mumbled Sam miserably. He stared at his hands fighting back the tears burning in his eyes. He really didn't care about attending the ball, but he was very tired of being rejected.
"Good," she said smiling thinly. "I am sure you will be able to explain things to your master." Sitting back on her velvet cushion, she rapped on the wall signaling the footman to open the door. Sam hurriedly clambered out and retreated to the side of the road. The footmen, bearing their heavy burden, continued on their way. Head hanging and shoulders slumped. Sam slowly turned and made his way back towards his rooms as the long shadows of night reached out to him.
Laurasjlr: Well, this should at least explain why the lady doesn't like Sam! She's first and foremost an insufferable snob! I look forward to more of your new story!
Hey Samwise the Strong: Yeah, there's more. I tend to write fairly lengthy stories, as you know! Don't know how long this one will end up being, though. I'm currently up to chapter 10!
Aly: Thanks for the review (BTW, LOVE the dance!). I hope you enjoy this story as much as the others. Can't have too many Sam stories (I actually planned on writing one about Merry, but since I found this one again, figured I'd just go with it!).
Althea: I did debate for a long time about posting this story. I don't think it's bad or anything just different! I hope you continue to enjoy it!
DISCLAIMER: For some reason, I always forget this in the first chapter! The characters and story of Lord of the Rings are not mine, but the exclusive property and creation of JRR Tolkien.
Chapter 2 Lady Uzelle
Frodo had been having such a wonderful time; it was quite some time before he realized Sam was gone. It had been so long since the Ringbearer had been able to relax and enjoy himself that he wanted to savor every minute of this delightful merry making. He laughed as he watched Merry and Pippin singing their favorite tavern songs, teaching the laughing audience the choruses to some of the more raucous ones.
"It certainly is good to see you laugh again, Frodo," smiled Gandalf warmly. "It has been much too long!"
Frodo took a long drink of ale and leaned back in his chair. "It feels wonderful!" he exclaimed, a weary smile on his face. "I feel as if the weight of the world has been lifted from my shoulders!" He took another swig of ale, then surveyed the boisterous room before him. Everyone seemed to be having a marvelous time. Gradually, Frodo's grin was replaced by a troubled frown. "Where is Sam?" he asked suddenly sitting straight in his chair looking about for his friend.
His companions stood up from the table and did their best to peer through the amorphous crowd. Aragorn, Gandalf, and Eomer, who also sat with them, began to work through the people, trying to track down the missing gardener.
"Oh he left some time ago, my lord," replied a guard at the door in response Aragorn's question. "He looked exhausted and none too happy, poor lad. Appeared to me like the party was a bit too much for the little fellow." Aragorn nodded. It would seem that Sam had simply retired early. It probably had been too much for him, after all he had just awakened from his long sleep. Aragorn turned and reported back to Frodo.
"I think it is perhaps time you too retired," said Gandalf thoughtfully. "You and Sam both were very close to death and have just barely risen from your beds. We would not want you to overdo. In addition, I believe I would feel better if we made certain Samwise returned safely to his chamber." Frodo nodded, feeling reluctant to leave, but more concerned for the safety of his friend.
The next few weeks were full of activities as the city prepared for the king's coronation. The Hobbits were often invited to banquets and soirees held in honor of the coronation and the success of Frodo's Quest. However, not all the Hobbits seemed equally welcomed. Sam noticed more and more frequently that when he attended one of these events at Frodo's side, the other guests often ignored him. Once, while seated at a dinner table, the footman passed right over him and it wasn't until Frodo spoke up that the man acknowledged Sam's presence and served him his dinner. Sam certainly did not crave the limelight. He was content to remain in the background and let the other Hobbits garner the attention, but even he didn't like being treated as if he didn't exist. Thus, he was increasingly reluctant to attend these public events.
On the eve of Aragorn's coronation, there was to be held the biggest ball yet. Everyone of importance was to be invited. Everyone, that is, but Samwise Gamgee. One cool evening, Sam was walking down the road through one of the upper tiers of the city, when an elaborately carved sedan chair, carried by four muscular footmen pulled up along side him. Sam stopped in surprise when he heard a voice call his name.
"Master Gamgee!" He turned and found himself facing the unpleasant woman from the first ball. She was leaning through the small window in the door peering down her long nose at him. Sam had noticed her at several events since, but she seemed to make a point of ignoring him completely. "Master Gamgee!" she called again. "Might I have a word with you?" Hesitantly, Sam approached the enclosed conveyance. Another footman appeared, opened the door and lowered the steps leading inside. Reluctantly now, Sam climbed in.
The woman studied him coldly, Her shrewd eyes missed nothing, noting his simple clothes and shy, uncomfortable manner. She waited until the door was closed before speaking. "Master Gamgee," she began abruptly, "Do you know who I am?"
Sam, his eyes lowered nervously, glanced up at her and shook his head. "No, my lady, I... I'm afraid I don't."
"I am Lady Uzelle, wife of Lord Angarhad, the wealthiest and most influential man in this city, besides the King, of course and perhaps Lord Faramir. I am in charge of organizing the pre-coronation banquet next week. I am sure you are aware of it?"
Puzzled, Sam nodded again. He looked up into the woman's face as if hoping for a clue that would help him understand what was going on here. She sighed impatiently, shaking her head. "Master Gamgee, let me get straight to the point. In your homeland, I believe that you are a, uh, gardener. Is that correct?"
This was getting stranger with every passing minute. Did she want him trim her hedges? "Yes, my lady," he replied slowly. "I work for Mr. Frodo tending his gardens at Bag End."
The woman smiled disdainfully. "Yes, that is what I had heard." she said with a note of triumph in her voice. "Master Gamgee, I do not know if you are aware of it, but here in Minas Tirith, we have established very firm boundaries between what is acceptable behavior in a servant and what is not. For example, for a servant to attend a formal function as a guest, even at the behest of his master is not acceptable behavior. Do you understand?" Sam stared at her outright now. What did she mean?
Lady Uzelle rolled her eyes at Sam's look of confusion. This just confirmed her opinion that Frodo Baggin's manservant was not especially intelligent. "What I am saying," she said slowly, "Is that you are not invited to the ball. Have you not noticed that people are less than welcoming when you show up with your master?" Sam's face burned. "Well, I wish to avoid further embarrassment for us all, especially you, Master Gamgee," she added, trying to sound kindly. She failed miserably. Her message came across loud and clear. Because he was a gardener back home, he was nothing more than the hired help in this woman's eyes. It didn't matter to her that he was a hero of Middle Earth, he was first and foremost a servant and not welcome in her world.
Again, Sam felt his face grow hot with humiliation. He had never been treated like this in his entire life. It was true that he didn't come from the upper echelons of Hobbit society like Mr. Frodo or Merry and Pippin, but he had always been treated well by them. Obviously the members of Minas Tirith society did not wish to fraternize with the "help". "I...I understand, my lady," mumbled Sam miserably. He stared at his hands fighting back the tears burning in his eyes. He really didn't care about attending the ball, but he was very tired of being rejected.
"Good," she said smiling thinly. "I am sure you will be able to explain things to your master." Sitting back on her velvet cushion, she rapped on the wall signaling the footman to open the door. Sam hurriedly clambered out and retreated to the side of the road. The footmen, bearing their heavy burden, continued on their way. Head hanging and shoulders slumped. Sam slowly turned and made his way back towards his rooms as the long shadows of night reached out to him.