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Chapter 7 Departure
Aragorn strode up to the Lady Uzelle, stopping abruptly just a few feet away. His eyes were blazing. Faramir stood beside him looking no less furious. Lady Uzelle had been glancing around at her gathered admirers to make sure they recognized her newest guests and it took a moment before she realized something was amiss. She turned to Elessar, prepared to greet him loudly, yet graciously but the words died on her lips and she paled at the look of fury on his face. Shifting her gaze to Lord Faramir she realized that she would find no support there. Her companions were slowly putting some distance between themselves and her as if to avoid being associated with whatever Lady Uzelle had done to incur such wrath. Lady Uzelle, however, was no coward and moistening her lips nervously, she fastened a smile upon her porcelain features and again turned to Elessar.
With a low curtsey, she spoke. "My...my Lord," she began, a slight quaver in her voice, "I am honored by your presence at my insignificant little gathering. I hope I have done nothing to offend you or my lord Faramir." She looked coyly through lowered lashes, certain that whatever was irritating these two men could be solved with a little flirting. She excelled at such things.
"My lady," growled Aragorn, his voice deadly cold. The spectators moved a bit farther away. "Am I to understand that you purposefully excluded the Ringbearer, Samwise Gamgee, from this ball!?"
Lady Uzelle froze; her eyes flitted around as if looking for support from her previous companions. None would meet her eyes. "Well, I... uh," she licked her lips again, "You see, my lord," she tried again, a look of sincerity replacing her fear, "I only did it for his sake! I mean, he is but a simple gardener, unused to such heady company, and I saw how uncomfortable he seemed at his first ball. I was simply trying to protect him!" She was speaking quickly now, a sheen of perspiration beaded on her brow.
"That is not what I understood," replied Aragorn his voice low and menacing. This unnerved Lady Uzelle far more than if he had ranted and raved at the top of his lungs. "I understand that you did not want him to attend because he was nothing but a mere servant, unworthy of your invitation. After all, what lord or lady would want to break bread with someone as insignificant as a gardener!" Aragorn stepped closer to Uzelle, his face only a foot away. "Well, I for one would be honored to break bread with any gardener, especially one as brave and as faithful as Samwise Gamgee! Do you have any idea, any at all, of what Sam and Frodo experienced on their quest to destroy the Ring of power and in turn, save all of us? Do you!?"
Lady Uzelle stumbled back a step or two. This was not at all what she was expecting this evening! In fact, this man was humiliating her in front of all the most important people in Gondor! Her own ire began to rise. She was not used to anyone berating her in public and she was not going to sit still while this upstart king scolded her on proper etiquette! "My lord Elessar," she snapped, her own voice now as cold as his. "I realize you are unfamiliar with the protocols of Gondorian society, but I assure you, I was simply acting in accordance with our rules. Master Gamgee is Frodo Baggin's servant. He admitted it to me himself. Servants are not invited to state balls. It is not proper!" She stood rigid, eyes flashing with indignation.
"Proper!? PROPER!?" roared Aragorn, all semblance of civility gone now, "I'll tell you what proper is! Proper is showing respect to the one person who saved your precious city and way of life! Proper is getting down on your knees and begging Samwise Gamgee's forgiveness for the appalling way you have treated him! Proper is having insufferable snobs like yourself thrown bodily from this city until you can learn what is truly important! "
Suddenly, Frodo shouldered his way forward. He too, stood side by side with Aragorn and Faramir, his face livid. "You have no idea what Sam really did!" he spat angrily at the woman towering over him. "You would have nothing if not for Sam! Your parties, your balls, your fancy homes, everything would be gone! I could not have destroyed the Ring alone! Sam single handedly drove off the giant spider Shelob! He was prepared to take on the burden of the Ring and carry it to Mt. Doom alone when he thought I was dead! Yet he had the strength and purity of heart to return the Ring to me after he managed to make his way into the tower of Cirith Ungol, past dozens of orcs and rescue me! I doubt anyone here could have done that! He literally carried me upon his back all the way up the slopes of Mt. Doom after giving me all the food and water!" He stopped for a moment, breathing heavily. "You honor me as the Ringbearer and Hero of Middle Earth but there is only one true hero here, and that is Samwise Gamgee." He felt Merry and Pippin standing firm behind him, glowering at the odious woman before them.
Lady Uzelle stood completely alone now. Her friends had all abandoned her in the face of this onslaught. She looked helplessly to Faramir, hoping that as a nobleman of Minas Tirith, he would at least understand her position, but his eyes were hard and unforgiving. Absently, her hands strayed to the jewels around her neck as she quickly considered her position. "Well," she said finally attempting to look contrite, "Perhaps I did make a small error in judgment. Yes, yes I do see your point and perhaps I was a tad hasty in my assessment of Master Gamgee. Well, no harm done! He is more than welcome to attend my ball!" she added magnanimously as if this would somehow atone for all pain she had caused.
Aragorn shook his head in disgust. "You honestly do not understand what you have done, do you? You hurt Sam more than you can possibly imagine." Suddenly, slight smile touched his lips. "You, madam," he began in a commanding tone that would brook no argument, "are never to darken the doorway of this palace or attend any state functions again unless Samwise Gamgee gives you leave. You are hereby banned from court." There was a collective gasp of horror. Aragorn had touched on the one thing that would truly hurt the Lady Uzelle. Her life revolved around social events and intrigues. Without that, she had nothing. In just a few moments, she had gone from the matriarch of Gondorian society to social pariah.
Her face white and set, Lady Uzelle stared at Aragorn in appalled disbelief. Then, after a moment of silence, muttered through clenched teeth, , "As you wish, my Lord." With a brief curtsey, she turned and stalked from the room. No one followed. This evening had turned into her worst nightmare.
*************************************************************
Sam sat in the shadows of his room. Moonlight flowed through his open window, but he avoided its silvery glow. He wanted no part of light these days. He felt as if his life had gone completely dark and he could see no light at all. His head lay wearily on his knees. Frodo had left a short while ago. Frodo. His dear master. He had tried so hard to convince Sam to attend the ball with him, but Sam doubted the sincerity of the request. Nor did Sam have any desire to be publicly humiliated by that woman again. Everyone would undoubtedly laugh at him. Foolish Samwise Gamgee –who did he think he was? Him, a simple gardener, putting on airs and thinking himself good enough to attend Lady Uzelle's most exclusive ball! No, it was better if he stayed here, safe in dark's comforting embrace.
He slowly lifted his head. It throbbed painfully and felt as if it weighed a hundred pounds. On second thought, maybe he didn't want to stay here. Frodo and the others might come back and Sam simply had no wish to talk to anyone. He could walk down to his secret garden. No one knew of it and he could sit there in peace as long as he wanted. It was dark and quiet there. Yes, that is what he would do. He awkwardly climbed to his feet but stumbled as he felt the world spin around him. He managed to grab onto the window sill and regain his balance. Panting, he closed his eyes and waited for things to settle down. His ribs throbbed. He felt so weak all of sudden, his body covered with a cold sweat. When had he eaten last he wondered distantly. Today? No, he didn't think so. Yesterday perhaps? Who knew? He certainly couldn't remember. Eating and sleeping seemed part of a distant past.
When he felt steady enough, he opened his eyes again. Tentatively, he released the window ledge and took a few steps. Yes, he could manage now. He walked outside and slowly made his way down through the city. A great many festivities were going on this evening as people celebrated in anticipation of the next day's coronation. There would be much larger, more elaborate celebrations tomorrow. No one seemed to notice the small shadow that passed among them. Sam was wearing his beloved Lothlorien cloak and it shielded him from the eyes of those around him.
As he reached the lowest level of the city, he made his way to his little garden. He wanted to see how his few flowers were doing. They always made him feel a little better. When he entered the garden, he knew immediately something was different. Several dark forms were lying in the grass near the gazebo. He approached cautiously but was relieved to see they were nothing but goats. He stood still as he realized what this meant. Someone had found the garden and was not using it to pasture their livestock. It was a secret no longer. Forlorn, Sam shuffled over to where he had so carefully nurtured his little plants. The buds had just started to open and he was eager to see them in full bloom, but It was not to be. The flowers were gone, victims of the goats' ravenous hunger. Shoulders slumped in defeat, Sam slowly left his garden for the very last time. He had lost even this small comfort.
Reaching the main thoroughfare, Sam looked towards the wall surrounding Minas Tirith and he could see that the ruined gate of the city standing wide open. Sam wandered towards it and looked out across the plains of Pellenor. There were a number of glowing fires marking the campsites of the Riders of Rohan. Sam could hear singing and laughter but it sounded alien to him. He turned away and gazed up at the brilliant stars twinkling in the black velvet sky. He and Frodo had often used the stars to navigate their way on their journey. Slowly, he turned until he was facing northwest – the direction of the Shire. The direction of home. Gradually it occurred to Sam that the road leaving Minas Tirith headed in that very direction. If he followed it, it would take him back to the emerald green hills of his beloved Shire. He took a tentative step outside the city and onto the road. He stood very still for a moment. Then he slowly looked back towards the city behind him. Back towards Frodo and all the members of the Fellowship. Back towards pain and humiliation. Then he peered down the dark road, the road to Hobbiton, his family, his gardens. The road to Rosie Cotton. He took another step forward, then another and soon the dispirited Hobbit, with no thought of the future, was on his way home.
Chapter 7 Departure
Aragorn strode up to the Lady Uzelle, stopping abruptly just a few feet away. His eyes were blazing. Faramir stood beside him looking no less furious. Lady Uzelle had been glancing around at her gathered admirers to make sure they recognized her newest guests and it took a moment before she realized something was amiss. She turned to Elessar, prepared to greet him loudly, yet graciously but the words died on her lips and she paled at the look of fury on his face. Shifting her gaze to Lord Faramir she realized that she would find no support there. Her companions were slowly putting some distance between themselves and her as if to avoid being associated with whatever Lady Uzelle had done to incur such wrath. Lady Uzelle, however, was no coward and moistening her lips nervously, she fastened a smile upon her porcelain features and again turned to Elessar.
With a low curtsey, she spoke. "My...my Lord," she began, a slight quaver in her voice, "I am honored by your presence at my insignificant little gathering. I hope I have done nothing to offend you or my lord Faramir." She looked coyly through lowered lashes, certain that whatever was irritating these two men could be solved with a little flirting. She excelled at such things.
"My lady," growled Aragorn, his voice deadly cold. The spectators moved a bit farther away. "Am I to understand that you purposefully excluded the Ringbearer, Samwise Gamgee, from this ball!?"
Lady Uzelle froze; her eyes flitted around as if looking for support from her previous companions. None would meet her eyes. "Well, I... uh," she licked her lips again, "You see, my lord," she tried again, a look of sincerity replacing her fear, "I only did it for his sake! I mean, he is but a simple gardener, unused to such heady company, and I saw how uncomfortable he seemed at his first ball. I was simply trying to protect him!" She was speaking quickly now, a sheen of perspiration beaded on her brow.
"That is not what I understood," replied Aragorn his voice low and menacing. This unnerved Lady Uzelle far more than if he had ranted and raved at the top of his lungs. "I understand that you did not want him to attend because he was nothing but a mere servant, unworthy of your invitation. After all, what lord or lady would want to break bread with someone as insignificant as a gardener!" Aragorn stepped closer to Uzelle, his face only a foot away. "Well, I for one would be honored to break bread with any gardener, especially one as brave and as faithful as Samwise Gamgee! Do you have any idea, any at all, of what Sam and Frodo experienced on their quest to destroy the Ring of power and in turn, save all of us? Do you!?"
Lady Uzelle stumbled back a step or two. This was not at all what she was expecting this evening! In fact, this man was humiliating her in front of all the most important people in Gondor! Her own ire began to rise. She was not used to anyone berating her in public and she was not going to sit still while this upstart king scolded her on proper etiquette! "My lord Elessar," she snapped, her own voice now as cold as his. "I realize you are unfamiliar with the protocols of Gondorian society, but I assure you, I was simply acting in accordance with our rules. Master Gamgee is Frodo Baggin's servant. He admitted it to me himself. Servants are not invited to state balls. It is not proper!" She stood rigid, eyes flashing with indignation.
"Proper!? PROPER!?" roared Aragorn, all semblance of civility gone now, "I'll tell you what proper is! Proper is showing respect to the one person who saved your precious city and way of life! Proper is getting down on your knees and begging Samwise Gamgee's forgiveness for the appalling way you have treated him! Proper is having insufferable snobs like yourself thrown bodily from this city until you can learn what is truly important! "
Suddenly, Frodo shouldered his way forward. He too, stood side by side with Aragorn and Faramir, his face livid. "You have no idea what Sam really did!" he spat angrily at the woman towering over him. "You would have nothing if not for Sam! Your parties, your balls, your fancy homes, everything would be gone! I could not have destroyed the Ring alone! Sam single handedly drove off the giant spider Shelob! He was prepared to take on the burden of the Ring and carry it to Mt. Doom alone when he thought I was dead! Yet he had the strength and purity of heart to return the Ring to me after he managed to make his way into the tower of Cirith Ungol, past dozens of orcs and rescue me! I doubt anyone here could have done that! He literally carried me upon his back all the way up the slopes of Mt. Doom after giving me all the food and water!" He stopped for a moment, breathing heavily. "You honor me as the Ringbearer and Hero of Middle Earth but there is only one true hero here, and that is Samwise Gamgee." He felt Merry and Pippin standing firm behind him, glowering at the odious woman before them.
Lady Uzelle stood completely alone now. Her friends had all abandoned her in the face of this onslaught. She looked helplessly to Faramir, hoping that as a nobleman of Minas Tirith, he would at least understand her position, but his eyes were hard and unforgiving. Absently, her hands strayed to the jewels around her neck as she quickly considered her position. "Well," she said finally attempting to look contrite, "Perhaps I did make a small error in judgment. Yes, yes I do see your point and perhaps I was a tad hasty in my assessment of Master Gamgee. Well, no harm done! He is more than welcome to attend my ball!" she added magnanimously as if this would somehow atone for all pain she had caused.
Aragorn shook his head in disgust. "You honestly do not understand what you have done, do you? You hurt Sam more than you can possibly imagine." Suddenly, slight smile touched his lips. "You, madam," he began in a commanding tone that would brook no argument, "are never to darken the doorway of this palace or attend any state functions again unless Samwise Gamgee gives you leave. You are hereby banned from court." There was a collective gasp of horror. Aragorn had touched on the one thing that would truly hurt the Lady Uzelle. Her life revolved around social events and intrigues. Without that, she had nothing. In just a few moments, she had gone from the matriarch of Gondorian society to social pariah.
Her face white and set, Lady Uzelle stared at Aragorn in appalled disbelief. Then, after a moment of silence, muttered through clenched teeth, , "As you wish, my Lord." With a brief curtsey, she turned and stalked from the room. No one followed. This evening had turned into her worst nightmare.
*************************************************************
Sam sat in the shadows of his room. Moonlight flowed through his open window, but he avoided its silvery glow. He wanted no part of light these days. He felt as if his life had gone completely dark and he could see no light at all. His head lay wearily on his knees. Frodo had left a short while ago. Frodo. His dear master. He had tried so hard to convince Sam to attend the ball with him, but Sam doubted the sincerity of the request. Nor did Sam have any desire to be publicly humiliated by that woman again. Everyone would undoubtedly laugh at him. Foolish Samwise Gamgee –who did he think he was? Him, a simple gardener, putting on airs and thinking himself good enough to attend Lady Uzelle's most exclusive ball! No, it was better if he stayed here, safe in dark's comforting embrace.
He slowly lifted his head. It throbbed painfully and felt as if it weighed a hundred pounds. On second thought, maybe he didn't want to stay here. Frodo and the others might come back and Sam simply had no wish to talk to anyone. He could walk down to his secret garden. No one knew of it and he could sit there in peace as long as he wanted. It was dark and quiet there. Yes, that is what he would do. He awkwardly climbed to his feet but stumbled as he felt the world spin around him. He managed to grab onto the window sill and regain his balance. Panting, he closed his eyes and waited for things to settle down. His ribs throbbed. He felt so weak all of sudden, his body covered with a cold sweat. When had he eaten last he wondered distantly. Today? No, he didn't think so. Yesterday perhaps? Who knew? He certainly couldn't remember. Eating and sleeping seemed part of a distant past.
When he felt steady enough, he opened his eyes again. Tentatively, he released the window ledge and took a few steps. Yes, he could manage now. He walked outside and slowly made his way down through the city. A great many festivities were going on this evening as people celebrated in anticipation of the next day's coronation. There would be much larger, more elaborate celebrations tomorrow. No one seemed to notice the small shadow that passed among them. Sam was wearing his beloved Lothlorien cloak and it shielded him from the eyes of those around him.
As he reached the lowest level of the city, he made his way to his little garden. He wanted to see how his few flowers were doing. They always made him feel a little better. When he entered the garden, he knew immediately something was different. Several dark forms were lying in the grass near the gazebo. He approached cautiously but was relieved to see they were nothing but goats. He stood still as he realized what this meant. Someone had found the garden and was not using it to pasture their livestock. It was a secret no longer. Forlorn, Sam shuffled over to where he had so carefully nurtured his little plants. The buds had just started to open and he was eager to see them in full bloom, but It was not to be. The flowers were gone, victims of the goats' ravenous hunger. Shoulders slumped in defeat, Sam slowly left his garden for the very last time. He had lost even this small comfort.
Reaching the main thoroughfare, Sam looked towards the wall surrounding Minas Tirith and he could see that the ruined gate of the city standing wide open. Sam wandered towards it and looked out across the plains of Pellenor. There were a number of glowing fires marking the campsites of the Riders of Rohan. Sam could hear singing and laughter but it sounded alien to him. He turned away and gazed up at the brilliant stars twinkling in the black velvet sky. He and Frodo had often used the stars to navigate their way on their journey. Slowly, he turned until he was facing northwest – the direction of the Shire. The direction of home. Gradually it occurred to Sam that the road leaving Minas Tirith headed in that very direction. If he followed it, it would take him back to the emerald green hills of his beloved Shire. He took a tentative step outside the city and onto the road. He stood very still for a moment. Then he slowly looked back towards the city behind him. Back towards Frodo and all the members of the Fellowship. Back towards pain and humiliation. Then he peered down the dark road, the road to Hobbiton, his family, his gardens. The road to Rosie Cotton. He took another step forward, then another and soon the dispirited Hobbit, with no thought of the future, was on his way home.