Author's Note: Here is the next chapter. Moving right along! As always,
thank you all so much for the reviews!
Merimas Gamgee: Looking at my maps (in the "Atlas of Middle Earth"), it looks to me like the road from Sarn Ford to Waymeet skirts the western edge of the Took's land. According to the book, Lotho's men had surrounded the Tookland keeping anyone from going in or out. Thus, I figured that they would have at least secured the main road running through the area. After all, Lotho had been shipping stuff south and that road would have been the only efficient way of doing it.
Renaissancegrrl: I figured the men in the outlying areas were less under the Chief's control and more likely to resort to violence than those closer to Hobbiton. Not very nice fellows at all! I also believe that Sam probably knows a lot more curse words than we give him credit for! LOL!
Laurasjlr: We will be seeing the other hobbits at some point. Just not sure when exactly! We will also be hearing more from poor Hertig.
Sam: Yeah, life in the Shire isn't exactly a fun experience these days! Help will come....eventually!
Gamgeefest: Actually, I've only seen Xena a few times, but I always thought bodies hanging in trees to be a rather effective, if gruesome, warning to others and goodness knows, it seems to have been used often enough (runaway slaves, pirates, thieves, etc.) As I mentioned above, I felt like the ruffians in the outlying areas were freer to do what they wanted without fear of reprisal.
Bronwyn: Yeah sort of like insult to injury. Not only does Sam despise Lotho, but now he has to work for him at Bag End no less! The suffering our hero must endure never ends! LOL!
Nymredil72: Thanks for reviewing again! I sure appreciate it! Yeah, I could have ended it with everything wrapping up neatly when Frodo found out why Sam was upset, but where's the fun in that when there's so much more misery to be had!
Szhismine: Sam certainly has a habit of running into despicable people in my stories! Of course without them, what dull stories these would be!
Bookworm2000: Well, we pretty much know what the Shire is like when Frodo and the others return, but of course this time, Sam will already be there. Just what Sam's circumstances will be remains to be seen!
FrodoBaggins87: I haven't quite decided how I'll work the Saruman and Sam situation yet, but when I do, you know it won't be fun for our Sam!
Althea: I'm glad you're enjoying the story and that all is not well for Sam. He still has a ways to go before things improve. Maybe I really should try and write happy stories some day....naaaah.
Ronzgirlz: Thanks for the kind words. I try to make my stories interesting and frankly, I abhore slash. To me, it goes against everything Tolkien wrote (not to mention it really seems absurd – Legolas and Aragorn? Legolas and Gimli? Legolas well, with just about everybody? Blechh!). Thus, you will never see it my stories!
Anyway, thanks again to all my wonderful readers and reviewers! Hope you enjoy the chapter!
Chapter 17 Friends in the Shire
It was a long, cold night for Samwise Gamgee locked away in the shed. His head throbbed from inhaling the acrid tar fumes and he ached all over. He hardly slept at all. What has happened to Hertig, he worried. Would his friend be all right? Sam felt weighted down with guilt for what had happened to the Rider. If Sam had stayed in Minas Tirith with Frodo and the others, Hertig would be home safe and sound with his family and Sam wouldn't be locked in a shed facing a life of slaving away for that loathsome Lotho Sackville-Baggins! What a fool he had been!
Sam spent the night huddled in a corner of the shed trying to keep warm. He watched wearily as space beneath the door gradually grew lighter. Dawn had arrived. It wasn't long before the he heard the sound of the lock being undone and the door swung open. He groaned to himself as he spied Fig's sneering face peering in at him.
"Come on, runt," he snarled holding the door open. "The Chief wants you to start workin' on his garden straight away, so get a move on." It was then Sam noticed the whip in Fig's hand and the eager look in the man's bloodshot eyes. It was obvious the ruffian had been drinking and even more obvious that he couldn't wait for some excuse to use his whip.
Silently, Sam rose to his feet, his stiff limbs aching as he stumbled through the door. Sam cried out in pain as Fir struck the side of his head with the butt of the whip. "I said, MOVE" snapped the man giving Sam a hard push which sent the hapless hobbit flying into the mud. Sam's face burned with anger as he listened to Fig snickering behind him. Again, without a word, Sam climbed to his feet wiping the mud off as best he could then heading to where he could see a wheelbarrow and tools piled up. Grumbling, Fig hurried after him.
Sam surveyed the ruined gardens with growing dismay. He had spent so many happy hours working in these gardens first for Mister Bilbo and then for Mister Frodo. It broke his heart to see such wanton destruction. With a sigh, he began to work. At least it felt good to be back working with the soil and plants again, even if was for that accursed Lotho.
As the sun rose higher and higher in the sky, the day grew uncomfortably hot. Sam's throat was burning with thirst and he felt dizzy from lack of food. When he had asked Fig if he might rest and have a drink of water, all he received was a lashing for his efforts. Blood seeped through the back of his tattered shirt and Sam constantly bit back sharp cries of pain. He refused to give Fig the satisfaction of knowing how much he had hurt him.
It was late in the afternoon now and Sam was having a difficult time. He was feeling shaky and his head pounded. His clothing was soaked with blood and sweat and he was dangerously dehydrated. Pushing his sodden hair from his face, Sam noticed Fig had fallen asleep beneath the shade of one of the sheds. Knowing he had a few moments respite, Sam sunk to the ground as if his legs could no longer hold him. This was not far from the truth. As he lay panting in the scant shade provided by the wheelbarrow, he heard some quiet steps approaching but Sam simply did not have the energy to see who it was. If it was that horrible Fig, he'd certainly know soon enough.
"Sam?" Sam started at the quiet voice. Opening his eyes, he found himself staring up into the startled face of his old friend, Jolly Cotton. "Sam?" the voice repeated just as quietly, "Is that really you?"
"Jolly?" croaked Sam, still not sure if he should believe his eyes. The face broke into a relieved grin.
"Aye, Sam! T'is me!" Jolly frowned as he looked at Sam's pale, bruised face. He then glanced over to where Fig sat snoring. Quickly, the hobbit reached down to a water skin he carried at his side, and lifting Sam's head, gently poured some water down his throat. "Easy, Sam!" he cautioned, "Not too much at once! I've seen more than one good hobbit laid low by those ruffians and it don't look like they've been overly gentle with you!"
Sam desperately gulped down as much water as Jolly would allow, then lay back with a relieved sigh. "I thank you for that, Jolly Cotton," he whispered. "Don't know how much longer I coulda gone on. Haven't had no drink nor food since early yesterday."
Still looking apprehensive, Jolly pulled out a hunk of bread and broke it into small bites for Sam to choke down. "What're you doin' here, Sam?" Jolly finally asked as he continued scanning the area nervously for any sign of approaching ruffians. "We thought you and the others must be dead by now. We've had no word for these many months. Is Mr. Frodo with you?"
Wordlessly, Sam shook his head. Again, that wave of guilt washed over him. "No, he and Mr. Merry and Mr. Pippin are still in Minas Tirith." Jolly frowned at Sam blankly. He had little idea of what lay outside the borders of the Shire. Sam sighed. "It's a city a good long ways from here," he explained. "In Gondor. Takes weeks to get there."
Jolly was silent for a moment. That still didn't mean much to him. "Why aren't you with them, then?" he finally asked. "Did Mr. Frodo send you on ahead?"
Sam gave a small rueful laugh. "No, Jolly," he said sadly, "I came along on my own. I was worried about me gaffer." He then looked at his friend. "Have you seen him, Jolly? My gaffer? Is he alright?"
Jolly frowned again. "Well, he could be a sight better," he said, bitterness in his voice. "When they dug up Bagshot Row, they made him move into one o' them awful shacks. Me dad brings him some food when he can, but there's all sorts o' rules now against sharin' food and such. Seems the only one yer allowed to share with these days is the Chief!"
"The "Chief," spat Sam angrily. "The only thing I'd like to share with him is the business end of my sword!" He slowly pushed himself up to a sitting position and looked around. He glanced over at the snoring Fig. "If it weren't for me Gaffer, I'd be up and out o' here in a minute," Sam muttered. He turned to Jolly, "Lotho claimed he'd lock the Gaffer in someplace called "the lockholes" if I didn't do his gardening. Now, I don't rightly know what these lockholes are, but I'm certain they're nothing good."
Jolly shook his head, handing the Sam the waterskin again. "You'd be right enough there, Sam." He sighed. "Old Lotho and his bunch have taken over the storage holes in Michel Delving and are using them as a jail. They've locked up anybody they feel ain't cooperatin'. Mayor Whitfoot was one o' the first. Pimple, that's what we call ol' Lotho, has appointed a whole slew of new Shirriffs; some willin', some not. But, they ain't got no choice. Then, o' course, there's all them men. Well, I'm guessin' you've seen enough o' them to know what they're like!"
Sam nodded grimly, thinking of the bodies he'd seen hanging from the trees. He wondered if Jolly knew about those. He was about to ask, when he heard an angry roar. Looking up, he saw Fig charging down the hill towards him, whip raised. "Run!" hissed Sam pushing Jolly away. Jolly scurried off, looking back in horror. The young hobbit watched as the furious ruffian brought the whip down on Sam again and again. Sam fell to his side, curling himself up to protect himself from the cruel bite of the whip. He never made a sound.
Jolly ran as fast as he could towards his father's farm. He kept out of sight as best he could, not wanting to draw attention to himself. He was appalled at Sam's condition and the way he was being treated. Sam was much thinner than Jolly had ever remembered him and there was a deep pain behind those world-weary eyes. This was not the carefree, happy-go-lucky Samwise Gamgee Jolly had known before. When he reached home, his family was just sitting down to a meager supper.
"Jolly!" cried his mother in surprise as he bolted through the door. Panting, he slammed it behind him and leaned against it. His father, old Tom Cotton, rose to his feet and hurried over to his son.
"Jolly?" he asked, "What's wrong, lad?" The rest of the Cotton family stared at Jolly in alarm waiting for him to catch his breath.
"It...it's Samwise Gamgee!" Jolly gasped wiping the sweat from his brow. "He's back! I just saw him up at Bag End. Old Pimple is forcin' Sam to work his gardens and he's got that accursed Fig guardin' him."
"Fig!" spat Tom Cotton, his face darkening with anger. "That villain will be the death of poor Sam! Was Mr. Frodo with him? Or Merry Brandybuck or Pippin Took?"
Jolly shook his head. "Sam said they was still in some city a long ways from here. I'm still not certain why Sam came on alone, but with the way Fig's treatin' him, he'll be lucky to still be alive by the time Mr. Frodo and the others get back." Jolly paused a moment to take a drink of water. "Fig was alayin' into poor Sam with that whip of his when last I saw him." A cry of horror stopped him and Jolly turned to see his sister Rosie standing nearby, her face white as chalk and tears traced glistening trails upon her pale cheeks. Her clenched hands covered her mouth as if to stop any further cries. Her mother hurried to Rosie's side and guided her gently into a chair.
"We can't let them do that to Sam!" cried young Tom, another of Farmer Cotton's sons. "He's like one o' the family! We need to go rescue him!"
"It ain't that simple," sighed Jolly. "Sam said that if he don't work for the Pimple, they'll put his gaffer into the lockholes. "
"You know his pa ain't been that well this winter since they put 'im in that drafty shack," said Mrs. Cotton, shaking her head sadly. "Sticking an old feller like him in one of them lockholes might just be the death of 'im. Sam could never live with that!"
Her husband nodded looking discouraged. "You're right. If we go rescuin' Sam and hidin' him, no tellin' what that Pimple will have his thugs do to the Gaffer. But that don't mean we have to let the poor lad starve! Jolly, you keep an eye out and see where they're akeepin' Sam. Probably in one o' them shacks by the garden. When we get the chance, we'll sneak some food in to him. It's the least we can do." Unhappily, the others agreed.
Rosie sat in her chair wiping the tears from her face. She had listened carefully to all that was said and she had every intention of being involved. She would be the one to take the food to Sam if she had anything to say about it! She had missed the quiet gardener more than she wanted to admit since he disappeared so many months ago and it made her furious to hear of Sam's mistreatment by the Chief's ruffians. Maybe they couldn't rescue him right off, but they could certainly help
Merimas Gamgee: Looking at my maps (in the "Atlas of Middle Earth"), it looks to me like the road from Sarn Ford to Waymeet skirts the western edge of the Took's land. According to the book, Lotho's men had surrounded the Tookland keeping anyone from going in or out. Thus, I figured that they would have at least secured the main road running through the area. After all, Lotho had been shipping stuff south and that road would have been the only efficient way of doing it.
Renaissancegrrl: I figured the men in the outlying areas were less under the Chief's control and more likely to resort to violence than those closer to Hobbiton. Not very nice fellows at all! I also believe that Sam probably knows a lot more curse words than we give him credit for! LOL!
Laurasjlr: We will be seeing the other hobbits at some point. Just not sure when exactly! We will also be hearing more from poor Hertig.
Sam: Yeah, life in the Shire isn't exactly a fun experience these days! Help will come....eventually!
Gamgeefest: Actually, I've only seen Xena a few times, but I always thought bodies hanging in trees to be a rather effective, if gruesome, warning to others and goodness knows, it seems to have been used often enough (runaway slaves, pirates, thieves, etc.) As I mentioned above, I felt like the ruffians in the outlying areas were freer to do what they wanted without fear of reprisal.
Bronwyn: Yeah sort of like insult to injury. Not only does Sam despise Lotho, but now he has to work for him at Bag End no less! The suffering our hero must endure never ends! LOL!
Nymredil72: Thanks for reviewing again! I sure appreciate it! Yeah, I could have ended it with everything wrapping up neatly when Frodo found out why Sam was upset, but where's the fun in that when there's so much more misery to be had!
Szhismine: Sam certainly has a habit of running into despicable people in my stories! Of course without them, what dull stories these would be!
Bookworm2000: Well, we pretty much know what the Shire is like when Frodo and the others return, but of course this time, Sam will already be there. Just what Sam's circumstances will be remains to be seen!
FrodoBaggins87: I haven't quite decided how I'll work the Saruman and Sam situation yet, but when I do, you know it won't be fun for our Sam!
Althea: I'm glad you're enjoying the story and that all is not well for Sam. He still has a ways to go before things improve. Maybe I really should try and write happy stories some day....naaaah.
Ronzgirlz: Thanks for the kind words. I try to make my stories interesting and frankly, I abhore slash. To me, it goes against everything Tolkien wrote (not to mention it really seems absurd – Legolas and Aragorn? Legolas and Gimli? Legolas well, with just about everybody? Blechh!). Thus, you will never see it my stories!
Anyway, thanks again to all my wonderful readers and reviewers! Hope you enjoy the chapter!
Chapter 17 Friends in the Shire
It was a long, cold night for Samwise Gamgee locked away in the shed. His head throbbed from inhaling the acrid tar fumes and he ached all over. He hardly slept at all. What has happened to Hertig, he worried. Would his friend be all right? Sam felt weighted down with guilt for what had happened to the Rider. If Sam had stayed in Minas Tirith with Frodo and the others, Hertig would be home safe and sound with his family and Sam wouldn't be locked in a shed facing a life of slaving away for that loathsome Lotho Sackville-Baggins! What a fool he had been!
Sam spent the night huddled in a corner of the shed trying to keep warm. He watched wearily as space beneath the door gradually grew lighter. Dawn had arrived. It wasn't long before the he heard the sound of the lock being undone and the door swung open. He groaned to himself as he spied Fig's sneering face peering in at him.
"Come on, runt," he snarled holding the door open. "The Chief wants you to start workin' on his garden straight away, so get a move on." It was then Sam noticed the whip in Fig's hand and the eager look in the man's bloodshot eyes. It was obvious the ruffian had been drinking and even more obvious that he couldn't wait for some excuse to use his whip.
Silently, Sam rose to his feet, his stiff limbs aching as he stumbled through the door. Sam cried out in pain as Fir struck the side of his head with the butt of the whip. "I said, MOVE" snapped the man giving Sam a hard push which sent the hapless hobbit flying into the mud. Sam's face burned with anger as he listened to Fig snickering behind him. Again, without a word, Sam climbed to his feet wiping the mud off as best he could then heading to where he could see a wheelbarrow and tools piled up. Grumbling, Fig hurried after him.
Sam surveyed the ruined gardens with growing dismay. He had spent so many happy hours working in these gardens first for Mister Bilbo and then for Mister Frodo. It broke his heart to see such wanton destruction. With a sigh, he began to work. At least it felt good to be back working with the soil and plants again, even if was for that accursed Lotho.
As the sun rose higher and higher in the sky, the day grew uncomfortably hot. Sam's throat was burning with thirst and he felt dizzy from lack of food. When he had asked Fig if he might rest and have a drink of water, all he received was a lashing for his efforts. Blood seeped through the back of his tattered shirt and Sam constantly bit back sharp cries of pain. He refused to give Fig the satisfaction of knowing how much he had hurt him.
It was late in the afternoon now and Sam was having a difficult time. He was feeling shaky and his head pounded. His clothing was soaked with blood and sweat and he was dangerously dehydrated. Pushing his sodden hair from his face, Sam noticed Fig had fallen asleep beneath the shade of one of the sheds. Knowing he had a few moments respite, Sam sunk to the ground as if his legs could no longer hold him. This was not far from the truth. As he lay panting in the scant shade provided by the wheelbarrow, he heard some quiet steps approaching but Sam simply did not have the energy to see who it was. If it was that horrible Fig, he'd certainly know soon enough.
"Sam?" Sam started at the quiet voice. Opening his eyes, he found himself staring up into the startled face of his old friend, Jolly Cotton. "Sam?" the voice repeated just as quietly, "Is that really you?"
"Jolly?" croaked Sam, still not sure if he should believe his eyes. The face broke into a relieved grin.
"Aye, Sam! T'is me!" Jolly frowned as he looked at Sam's pale, bruised face. He then glanced over to where Fig sat snoring. Quickly, the hobbit reached down to a water skin he carried at his side, and lifting Sam's head, gently poured some water down his throat. "Easy, Sam!" he cautioned, "Not too much at once! I've seen more than one good hobbit laid low by those ruffians and it don't look like they've been overly gentle with you!"
Sam desperately gulped down as much water as Jolly would allow, then lay back with a relieved sigh. "I thank you for that, Jolly Cotton," he whispered. "Don't know how much longer I coulda gone on. Haven't had no drink nor food since early yesterday."
Still looking apprehensive, Jolly pulled out a hunk of bread and broke it into small bites for Sam to choke down. "What're you doin' here, Sam?" Jolly finally asked as he continued scanning the area nervously for any sign of approaching ruffians. "We thought you and the others must be dead by now. We've had no word for these many months. Is Mr. Frodo with you?"
Wordlessly, Sam shook his head. Again, that wave of guilt washed over him. "No, he and Mr. Merry and Mr. Pippin are still in Minas Tirith." Jolly frowned at Sam blankly. He had little idea of what lay outside the borders of the Shire. Sam sighed. "It's a city a good long ways from here," he explained. "In Gondor. Takes weeks to get there."
Jolly was silent for a moment. That still didn't mean much to him. "Why aren't you with them, then?" he finally asked. "Did Mr. Frodo send you on ahead?"
Sam gave a small rueful laugh. "No, Jolly," he said sadly, "I came along on my own. I was worried about me gaffer." He then looked at his friend. "Have you seen him, Jolly? My gaffer? Is he alright?"
Jolly frowned again. "Well, he could be a sight better," he said, bitterness in his voice. "When they dug up Bagshot Row, they made him move into one o' them awful shacks. Me dad brings him some food when he can, but there's all sorts o' rules now against sharin' food and such. Seems the only one yer allowed to share with these days is the Chief!"
"The "Chief," spat Sam angrily. "The only thing I'd like to share with him is the business end of my sword!" He slowly pushed himself up to a sitting position and looked around. He glanced over at the snoring Fig. "If it weren't for me Gaffer, I'd be up and out o' here in a minute," Sam muttered. He turned to Jolly, "Lotho claimed he'd lock the Gaffer in someplace called "the lockholes" if I didn't do his gardening. Now, I don't rightly know what these lockholes are, but I'm certain they're nothing good."
Jolly shook his head, handing the Sam the waterskin again. "You'd be right enough there, Sam." He sighed. "Old Lotho and his bunch have taken over the storage holes in Michel Delving and are using them as a jail. They've locked up anybody they feel ain't cooperatin'. Mayor Whitfoot was one o' the first. Pimple, that's what we call ol' Lotho, has appointed a whole slew of new Shirriffs; some willin', some not. But, they ain't got no choice. Then, o' course, there's all them men. Well, I'm guessin' you've seen enough o' them to know what they're like!"
Sam nodded grimly, thinking of the bodies he'd seen hanging from the trees. He wondered if Jolly knew about those. He was about to ask, when he heard an angry roar. Looking up, he saw Fig charging down the hill towards him, whip raised. "Run!" hissed Sam pushing Jolly away. Jolly scurried off, looking back in horror. The young hobbit watched as the furious ruffian brought the whip down on Sam again and again. Sam fell to his side, curling himself up to protect himself from the cruel bite of the whip. He never made a sound.
Jolly ran as fast as he could towards his father's farm. He kept out of sight as best he could, not wanting to draw attention to himself. He was appalled at Sam's condition and the way he was being treated. Sam was much thinner than Jolly had ever remembered him and there was a deep pain behind those world-weary eyes. This was not the carefree, happy-go-lucky Samwise Gamgee Jolly had known before. When he reached home, his family was just sitting down to a meager supper.
"Jolly!" cried his mother in surprise as he bolted through the door. Panting, he slammed it behind him and leaned against it. His father, old Tom Cotton, rose to his feet and hurried over to his son.
"Jolly?" he asked, "What's wrong, lad?" The rest of the Cotton family stared at Jolly in alarm waiting for him to catch his breath.
"It...it's Samwise Gamgee!" Jolly gasped wiping the sweat from his brow. "He's back! I just saw him up at Bag End. Old Pimple is forcin' Sam to work his gardens and he's got that accursed Fig guardin' him."
"Fig!" spat Tom Cotton, his face darkening with anger. "That villain will be the death of poor Sam! Was Mr. Frodo with him? Or Merry Brandybuck or Pippin Took?"
Jolly shook his head. "Sam said they was still in some city a long ways from here. I'm still not certain why Sam came on alone, but with the way Fig's treatin' him, he'll be lucky to still be alive by the time Mr. Frodo and the others get back." Jolly paused a moment to take a drink of water. "Fig was alayin' into poor Sam with that whip of his when last I saw him." A cry of horror stopped him and Jolly turned to see his sister Rosie standing nearby, her face white as chalk and tears traced glistening trails upon her pale cheeks. Her clenched hands covered her mouth as if to stop any further cries. Her mother hurried to Rosie's side and guided her gently into a chair.
"We can't let them do that to Sam!" cried young Tom, another of Farmer Cotton's sons. "He's like one o' the family! We need to go rescue him!"
"It ain't that simple," sighed Jolly. "Sam said that if he don't work for the Pimple, they'll put his gaffer into the lockholes. "
"You know his pa ain't been that well this winter since they put 'im in that drafty shack," said Mrs. Cotton, shaking her head sadly. "Sticking an old feller like him in one of them lockholes might just be the death of 'im. Sam could never live with that!"
Her husband nodded looking discouraged. "You're right. If we go rescuin' Sam and hidin' him, no tellin' what that Pimple will have his thugs do to the Gaffer. But that don't mean we have to let the poor lad starve! Jolly, you keep an eye out and see where they're akeepin' Sam. Probably in one o' them shacks by the garden. When we get the chance, we'll sneak some food in to him. It's the least we can do." Unhappily, the others agreed.
Rosie sat in her chair wiping the tears from her face. She had listened carefully to all that was said and she had every intention of being involved. She would be the one to take the food to Sam if she had anything to say about it! She had missed the quiet gardener more than she wanted to admit since he disappeared so many months ago and it made her furious to hear of Sam's mistreatment by the Chief's ruffians. Maybe they couldn't rescue him right off, but they could certainly help