A/N: Thank you everyone who has kept up with my story. I'm sorry it has taken me so long to update, but with a full time job, time to write is very scarce to come by.
Anyway, I took some time off work and am visiting some family in Texas so I have been able to finish chapter 7 while I was here.
I hope you enjoy and thanks again for reading!
:: Aoura Maiden ::
Ch. 7
A few hours later, Sam brushed the loose dirt off his trousers and headed for Bag End. Standing outside the back door, he considered what to do; does he stay with Mr. Frodo and try to help him? Does he make dinner then leave? Does he just go home? Unsure of what his plan of action was, Sam decided to just go in and do what he could.
"Mr. Frodo?" He called into the large smail. He voice echoed off the walls and soon faded away. There was no replay. "Mr. Frodo? Where are you?" Slowly weaving his way through the many passages, Sam finally stumbled upon his master. Frodo was at Bilbo's desk in the study; sound asleep with a quill still in his hand. Stacks of parchment lay scattered on the desk and a few on the floor. Most of it was written in elvish.
Oh, how Sam wished he could read it. Nothing fascinated Sam more then Elves, everything about them was so mysterious and exciting. Bilbo had been teaching Frodo how to read, write and speak elvish and, in turn, Frodo promised to teach Sam.
"But only if you're good." Frodo had said jokingly.
"Oh, I will be, Mr. Frodo. I will be." Sam promised. Frodo laughed a truly heartfelt laugh at this. Sam missed that. He couldn't remember the last time he heard Frodo laugh like that.
'Maybe I should wake him?' Sam thought as he looked back to his exhausted master. 'No, he needs his rest. He seems to have been loosing a lot of sleep lately.' So, rushing to the linen closet, Sam retrieved a blanket and, careful not to wake him, draped it over Frodo's shoulders.
Just as he was about to leave to prepare dinner, one of the pieces of parchment caught his eye. At the top was written;
Dear Mr. Hamfast Gamgee,
What was Frodo doing writing to his father? Knowing in his heart it was wrong, curiosity over cam him and Sam slowly removed the letter from under part of Frodo's arm. Though he had not been studying his letters for a very long time, Sam was able to make out most of the note. It read;
For years, you have cared for, not only Bag End and it's gardens, but also my Uncle Bilbo and I. Your service has always been greatly appreciated. Your son, Samwise, is a wonderful lad and a talented gardener. He has done a wonderful job and has served us very well. You should be proud of him.
Yet, I believe that it is in everyone's best interest that Sam does not return to Bag End for a time. Please do not think that this is some sort of punishment since Sam has done nothing wrong to be punished for. I simply believe that it will be a benefit to all. Please consider this more of a vacation.
Respectfully yours,
Frodo Baggins.
Sam was in a state of shock. What did this mean? Why did Mr. Frodo not want him to return to Bag End? So many questions and so few answers. Replacing the letter on the desk, Sam left the study and headed for the kitchen to prepare dinner. The entire time he was cooking, his mind was even more clouded then it was before.
Sometime later, after almost cutting his finger with a knife, Sam decided that he needed to focus his attention on his cooking before he burned the smail down! But it was so hard with the words from the letter reeling in his mind.
"Sam?" Frodo's still tired voice came from the hallways. Sam spun around to face him but, unfortunately, was too enthusiastic about it and his left hand slammed right into the scalding skillet. Letting out a scream of shock and pain, Sam jumped back, causing the fried tomatoes to scatter on the floor.
"Sam! What happened?" Frodo raced around the corner, the blanket flying behind him like a cape then floated to the ground as he released it from his grasp. Skidding to a halt, his gaze fell upon poor Sam, who was kneeling beside the kitchen table. His right hand was gripped around his left wrist and both were pulled tightly to his chest.
"Sam! Are you alright?" Frodo dove onto the floor beside Sam and examined the situation. He gasped as he saw Sam's poor hand. The whole side of his hand, including his thumb, and part of the back of his hand was bright red and a few blisters could already been seen.
"M...Mr. Frodo." Sam started between sobs. "I...I'm s...sorry."
"Don't worry Sam. It's just some tomatoes. Here, let me help you up so we can do something about that burn." So, very carefully, Frodo helped Sam into the nearest chair and took his injured hand into his own. "There now, let's just rinse that and I'll wrap it up. Just let me get some fresh water from the pump." Frodo began to leave the kitchen when Sam jumped to his feet.
"I'll get it, Mr. Frodo." He said, cringing from the throbbing, burning sensation coming from his hand.
"Nonsense!" Frodo exclaimed, putting his hand on Sam's shoulder and attempting to return him to his seat. "You won't be able to do anything unless we get that hand fixed up."
"But..."
"No." And with that, Frodo rushed out of the kitchen and headed for the back door. A few minutes later Frodo returned, a bucket of cold water in one hand and a bundle of cloth and bandages piled in the other.
"Mr. Frodo, let me..." Sam went to stand up to take some of the load from Frodo, but Frodo shoot him a warning look and Sam fell silent. Dipping a cloth into the bucket, Frodo carefully took Sam's injured hand and began cleaning it. Each time the icy cold water touched his now sensitive skin; Sam would gasp or cringe, attempting to control his desire to scream out.
"I know Sam, I know." Frodo cooed as he cleansed the injury. "I'm almost done." Sam flinched as the bandages were tightened but he kept reminding himself that it would be over soon. Sure enough, the next thing Sam heard was Frodo's voice saying;
"There you go. All done." Sam looked down and saw his hand was almost twice its normal size. He wouldn't be able to do any decent gardening in this condition. Oh no! Now the Gaffer would NEVER let Sam return to Bag End, even if Mr. Frodo ever decided he wanted him back!
"Here, take this ointment and some extra bandages. Make sure you clean it twice a day. The ointment will help with the pain and reduce the amount of scaring." Sam slipped the ointment and bandages into his pocket. "Now you go home and rest that hand."
"But what about your dinner, Mr. Frodo. I've ruined it."
"Don't worry about that, Sam. There's no use crying over spilt tomatoes."
"At least let me make you somthin' else." Sam begged. Frodo looked at the gardener and smiled. Samwise Gamgee was one of the most dedicated and persistent hobbits in the entire Shire.
"Sam, you really need to rest that hand of yours. I'll be fine." Frodo reassured him. Still Sam refused to leave. "Sam, you'll be of no help here if you injure yourself again." Frodo said a bit more sternly. "Just go home, Sam." These words, though meant with good intentions, felt like a blade in Sam's heart. He felt defeated and lowly at the moment.
"Yes sir." Sam finally answered, turning from Frodo so he could not see the tears welling up in his eyes.
"Oh Sam, before you leave, I have something for your father. Wait her just one second." Frodo quickly left the kitchen and headed straight for the study. Sam's heart stopped. The letter. He had hoped Frodo had forgotten about it, but it seemed he had remembered it all along.
The time ticked by slowly. What could be taking him so long to simply retrieve the letter from the desk? It seemed an eternity before Frodo returned, holding the letter in his hand. What Sam didn't notice was that this letter was written on a completely different colored parchment then the one he had found in the study.
"Give this to your father." Frodo instructed. Sam nodded and, with a slightly shaking hand, took the unsealed parchment. "Now you just head home," Frodo said, ushering Sam to the front door, "and I don't want to see you back in that garden until that hand of yours is healed. Understood?"
"Yes sir," Sam said obediently and passed out the door and walked down the path to the gate. He took one last look at Bag End before starting the walk home. The round green door, that was always so inviting, now seemed to have 'no entry' signs on it.
As he walked home, Frodo's final words echoed in his mind. Again, they were like daggers. And Sam had always thought Mr. Frodo liked him. He thought they were friends. How wrong he was.
A/N: Poor Sam. I don't like hurting him but it almost seemed necessary. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and please look for more updates!