Sam awoke to arms being thrown around his neck, grasping tightly, and a
body thowing its weight upon his stomach. He coughed, his eyes opened wide
to the feeling of the weight, slight and frail as it was. The arms' grip
tightened and Sam looked down at Frodo who did not seem to be focussing on
him but someone else. He whimpered and tried to climb better into the
protection of Sam's lap. He was sobbing now, shaking with fright, small
squeaks coming from his throat. Sam suddenly remembered about his little
sister, Marigold, when she was frightened of the scary stories Halfred told
on stormy nights. She'd grip him tight and whimper, too young to talk, too
young to understand that the monsters Hal told of were either completely
false or far far away. She couldn't understand that they were safe, that
they were home. Just that there was something bad out there, somewhere.
Frodo buried his face in the crook of Sam's arm and his cries seemed like little pleas for help. Sam looked up and saw Envin, frozen in a state of shock and Merry and Pippin whose faces would have seemed incredibly comical if not for the crying hobbit in his arms. Sam sat up, cradling the weeping bundle, his eyes trying to scan the situation. "What's all this about?"
Pippin's lower lip quivered and he bit it angrily, trying to act as grown as his cousin who also seemed to be losing composure. Envin was the first to regain speech. "They wished to see him. He was frightened." He said simply.
Sam rocked the curled up hobbit in his arms clumsily. Frodo curled his legs into Sam's stomach making it very awkward for him to hold onto him. Sam also felt so very strange comforting his master this way. He could still not grasp the fact that he was completely helpless, that he was no longer the stubborn hobbit who once insisted on travelling through the wilderness with a mortal wound and poison slowly creeping over his heart. He could no longer brave anything he feared. "Shh, Mr. Frodo, them there are your cousins. They'd never hurt you, Mr. Frodo, never even think of doin' you no harm. They wanted to see you, make sure you were alright." Frodo did not seem to comprehend, he lifted his head slowly at the sound of Sam's words and looked into his eyes. Sam saw that Frodo's face was a mask of confusion and fear as they darted back and forth searching his own face.
Sam made to stand Frodo on his own feet but the hobbit just grumbled and buried deeper into Sam's arm. "Now, come on Mr. Frodo, you gotta try. You gotta trust me." Frodo let his feet fall but put no pressure to them. He lay, limp and stubborn, his brow furrowed in panic. Sam took a moment to scan Pippin and Merry who both seemed to be trying hard to behave and seem less threatening. They *were* awful big for hobbits. Sam was the only one Frodo's size, he seemed less threatening. "Try-" Sam swallowed, knowing this was a foolish idea. "Try gettin' on your knees, Mr. Merry."
Merry obeyed quietly, bowing his head. Pippin followed. Sam leaned Frodo's weight onto him and helped the struggling hobbit towards his cousins. Frodo let Sam help him until he looked up and saw the three creatures he was seeking protection from. He spun around in a blind panic and threw himself to the ground. Sam fell to his knees trying to get Frodo to look up but he was as stubborn as a child.
Sam lifted his hand and Frodo jerked it right back. He pounded the ground and whimpered, curling his legs up to his chest and breathing quickly, his frail chest heaving. "Mr. Frodo!" cried Sam trying to stop the panicking hobbit. Frodo shook his head, making his nose press against the ground. He clenched his eyes shut trying to make it all just go away. "Mr. Frodo please! No one's gonna hurt you! You gotta trust your Sam." Sam grabbed Frodo's shoulders causing the frightened hobbit to go completely stiff and hold his breath as if he were going under water. Sam pulled him onto his lap and cradled him protectively. "It's alright. It's alright, no one's gonna hurt you. Not any one's gonna hurt you."
Envin knew it would frighten Frodo even more but he had to do something. Frodo was hyperventalating and if he didn't do something soon he would pass out from sheer panic. He ran to Sam's side and stroked Frodo's hair soothingly before taking the shaking bundle out of Sam's arms. Frodo kept his eyes closed and did not see his new bearer. Envin set him on the bed and tucked the covers tightly so that he would not try and run. "Mr. Merry, Mr. Pippin, could you please boil me some water, and help me fetch some athelas, quickly, please." Merry and Pippin clambored to their feet and did as bidden as swiftly as they could. Envin ran out of the tent after them to find the king's athelas.
Sam sat where he was left, his face seemed struck, his arms still held out as if he were holding something close to him. He could not take this any more. All of this. It was just too much. He could feel his heart rending. His mind was becoming fussy and he was back on Mount Doom, holding his master close as he fled down the mountain. He could feel the terrible wound on Frodo's head seeping out more and more of his life blood. He was jarred and jolted and came to his final resting place upon the harsh, wicked rocks of Orodruin. Putrid fumes and acids reigned from the blackened sky and the earth moaned and shook. Sam's master left him that day. Died upon that mountain. And Sam could now feel the effects of that loss tearing at his broken heart. His master was gone. Frodo no longer lived in that body.
Sam found himself standing beside the bed of the writhing hobbit. When Frodo ceased his panic he looked up at Sam, eyes burning with fear. They softened as they rested upon Sam's face and he threw his arms around him again, nuzzling securely against him like a contented kitten. Sam's body shook with heaves as he sobbed but Frodo did not seem to understand. The simple hobbit looked up, his eyebrows knotting with a question his brain could not quite form. He pressed his palm against Sam's wet cheek and showed it to him, the same questioning look on his face. "Tears!" Sam yelled, almost angrily and Frodo shrank back.
"Look what's It's done! Look what that foul, wretched thing has done to you! What you've become!" Sam gripped Frodo, roughly, by the shoulders and the hobbit squeaked, now even more confused than before. If he had gained anything, it was that the creature before him would protect him. And now he was even more confused as he was shaken by it, rough hands digging into his shoulders. "And you don't even know what this is!" Sam let Frodo drop and put his own hand to his cheek showing Frodo the tears. "They're tears! I'm crying!" he panted and his rage began to drain. "I'm- I'm crying..." his voice began to lower as the hobbit in front of him trembled. Sam took in a deep breath. "People cry- people cry when they are sad. I am sad because you- you aren't the same as you were before. Do you understand?"
Frodo did not respond. His bright eyes darting across Sam's face, searching, searching for something. Some answer. Some way for him to know. He did not understand the words. They were just babble to him. But the face. It changed. It went from warm, kind, gentle, safe. Then it was all scrunched up, all wet, his lips curled down, his eyes shimmered with water, and then his teeth clenched together. His face tightened, fingers dug into his shoulders. Frodo rubbed his shoulders at the thought as Sam's keen eyes bore into him for some kind of response. *What did this creature want?*
"Look what It's done! What you've become! What It's reduced you to!" Sam muttered his voice shaking. "You weren't always like this, you know. You were always so wise, so learned. You were leadin' me all the time. You taught me everything worth knowin'! Everything. Ever since I was a little lad I- I looked up to you, Mr. Frodo. I always wanted to be like you. An' now, well, me takin' care a' you like this, it- it's-" Sam stopped. He gave up. His words were just wind to his master's ears. He buried his face in his hands and sat on the edge of the bed.
Some time passed. Sam could not tell how much. All was darkness to him. Thoughts ran by too quickly for him to catch. But in the darkness he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was trembling terribly and he looked up. Frodo sat himself down next to him and stared intently into his eyes. Sam saw tears trailing down Frodo's face. "I'm sorry I- I must a' just made matters worse for you- you- must be so confused- and I yelled- I'm-" Frodo pressed his hand to his cheek and showed the glimmering tears to Sam. He then pressed them on Sam's cheek and sat like that for a long while before Sam choked out, "Tears."
Frodo didn't respond to the babble he heard. Some odd tendency for this creature to make funny noises. But he supposed he did the same and rested his head on its shoulder.
Sam patted Frodo's back as the simple hobbit sighed contentedly. Sam rocked him back and forth humming a gentle lullaby. Frodo just simply smiled and listened intently. These strange sounds he liked. They combined together and sounded pleasent to his ears. Sam choked often, he didn't like this at all. This wasn't his child, this wasn't his son. This was his master and yet he was treating him like a child. He hated it, he despised it, he loathed it in every way. But he could not mistreat Frodo like that again.
His horrid actions finally hit him and he felt like he got the wind punched out of him. He hurt him. Frodo couldn't help it. He was trapped like this and he hurt him for it. He yelled at him. Sam, the one that always should have protected him, kept him safe and warm, treated him with kindness, pity, love. Instead he jostled him, insulted him, berated him for what he was. What he was. The thought hurt Sam so very much. This is what his master was. Reduced to a simple child. Didn't even know what tears were. Sam berated himself over and over for this. He would make a terrible father if he treated his children this way. Got so frustrated over tears. Such bitter wasteful tears that this simple hobbit could not understand in his world.
And as all of this twisted into some bitter knot deep inside Sam's belly something else added to it and he felt like he was going to retch. Sam stood up quickly letting Frodo fall with a squeak. He rushed over to Envin's healing items and sought desperately for a bowl. Finding nothing he darted outside and retched all the contents of his stomach until nothing but bile coated his throat. He coughed and heaved and finally fell to the grass sobbing.
Frodo forgave him. So quickly, so simply as if nothing had happened. Frodo trusted him so much, seconds after he had hurt him, thrown him, screamed and insulted him, that gentle sould leaned his head on his shoulder and smiled softly as if it had never happened. He realized, finally, how much faith this frightened hobbit put in him. He was lost in a world he did not know. He was alone and frightened and confused, yet he trusted Sam. He was the single thing in this world Frodo trusted. Even after he was hurt by him, he did not lose faith in him. He did not fear him. Like a loyal dog that could have been kicked and sorely mistreated by his master always returned to his side ready stand by him, never once doubting the love of his master, even if it wasn't there.
Sam finally let the darkness take him as he passed out next to the rejected contents of his stomach. The hot sun burned down on him and he lay alone outside the tent clutching the grass to stop the world from spinning.
Frodo was lying on the bed as Sam left him, staring wide eyed where the creature had run out of the tent in such a frenzy. He waited patiently for a while, knowing his protector would return to him. He waited and heard odd sounds outside. They seemed painful and he finally sat up. Pain. That he knew. He knew it so well. Was his protector in pain? Frodo set his feet on the ground ready to venture out of the safe confines of his tent. Slowly, each step had to be so intently focussed on as he stumbled forward. In blind panic he could run or crawl as quickly as his limbs could fly. But this upright walking was so very difficult. Still his protector had done it, had held him and tried to make him do it. He should try. One furry foot balanced his weight steadily as the other made its way to the ground. Point it forward, not sideways. Don't twist yourself. Bend. Push. Balance. Such a difficult task how did these creatures do it?
He finally reached the flaps of the tent and his little fists gripped them desperately. There was a warm gold light coming from out there. He shied away from it instinctively. It was hot, not cold, bright, not dark. Yet it wasn't there. He could not hold it, grab it, touch it. He watched little seeds float through the gold light that were invisible in the darkness. Tiny little spores that would one day find a home in the ground and sprout life. He ran his hand through it. It was warm and the little seeds danced around his fingers. Facinating. Strange. New. He finally plucked up enough courage to look out.
Like a timid rabbit he peered out until his eyes rested on his protector lying on the ground, not moving. That was odd. He normally moved a lot. And made strange noises too. That babble was becoming enjoyable. He fell to the ground. Crawling was somehow easier. He made his way to his protector's side and nestled close. Now this place was amazing! He couldn't grasp it all at once. The colors! Lots of green. He nestled close and smiled. He was safe now. By his protector's side once more. He could not have been more content but he missed the gentle hum, the mumbling babble. Why wasn't the creature doing any of those things? Frodo's mind could not begin to question this so he stayed where he was until the hot sun made him drowsy.
This was how Envin, Merry, and Pippin found them when they returned.
Frodo buried his face in the crook of Sam's arm and his cries seemed like little pleas for help. Sam looked up and saw Envin, frozen in a state of shock and Merry and Pippin whose faces would have seemed incredibly comical if not for the crying hobbit in his arms. Sam sat up, cradling the weeping bundle, his eyes trying to scan the situation. "What's all this about?"
Pippin's lower lip quivered and he bit it angrily, trying to act as grown as his cousin who also seemed to be losing composure. Envin was the first to regain speech. "They wished to see him. He was frightened." He said simply.
Sam rocked the curled up hobbit in his arms clumsily. Frodo curled his legs into Sam's stomach making it very awkward for him to hold onto him. Sam also felt so very strange comforting his master this way. He could still not grasp the fact that he was completely helpless, that he was no longer the stubborn hobbit who once insisted on travelling through the wilderness with a mortal wound and poison slowly creeping over his heart. He could no longer brave anything he feared. "Shh, Mr. Frodo, them there are your cousins. They'd never hurt you, Mr. Frodo, never even think of doin' you no harm. They wanted to see you, make sure you were alright." Frodo did not seem to comprehend, he lifted his head slowly at the sound of Sam's words and looked into his eyes. Sam saw that Frodo's face was a mask of confusion and fear as they darted back and forth searching his own face.
Sam made to stand Frodo on his own feet but the hobbit just grumbled and buried deeper into Sam's arm. "Now, come on Mr. Frodo, you gotta try. You gotta trust me." Frodo let his feet fall but put no pressure to them. He lay, limp and stubborn, his brow furrowed in panic. Sam took a moment to scan Pippin and Merry who both seemed to be trying hard to behave and seem less threatening. They *were* awful big for hobbits. Sam was the only one Frodo's size, he seemed less threatening. "Try-" Sam swallowed, knowing this was a foolish idea. "Try gettin' on your knees, Mr. Merry."
Merry obeyed quietly, bowing his head. Pippin followed. Sam leaned Frodo's weight onto him and helped the struggling hobbit towards his cousins. Frodo let Sam help him until he looked up and saw the three creatures he was seeking protection from. He spun around in a blind panic and threw himself to the ground. Sam fell to his knees trying to get Frodo to look up but he was as stubborn as a child.
Sam lifted his hand and Frodo jerked it right back. He pounded the ground and whimpered, curling his legs up to his chest and breathing quickly, his frail chest heaving. "Mr. Frodo!" cried Sam trying to stop the panicking hobbit. Frodo shook his head, making his nose press against the ground. He clenched his eyes shut trying to make it all just go away. "Mr. Frodo please! No one's gonna hurt you! You gotta trust your Sam." Sam grabbed Frodo's shoulders causing the frightened hobbit to go completely stiff and hold his breath as if he were going under water. Sam pulled him onto his lap and cradled him protectively. "It's alright. It's alright, no one's gonna hurt you. Not any one's gonna hurt you."
Envin knew it would frighten Frodo even more but he had to do something. Frodo was hyperventalating and if he didn't do something soon he would pass out from sheer panic. He ran to Sam's side and stroked Frodo's hair soothingly before taking the shaking bundle out of Sam's arms. Frodo kept his eyes closed and did not see his new bearer. Envin set him on the bed and tucked the covers tightly so that he would not try and run. "Mr. Merry, Mr. Pippin, could you please boil me some water, and help me fetch some athelas, quickly, please." Merry and Pippin clambored to their feet and did as bidden as swiftly as they could. Envin ran out of the tent after them to find the king's athelas.
Sam sat where he was left, his face seemed struck, his arms still held out as if he were holding something close to him. He could not take this any more. All of this. It was just too much. He could feel his heart rending. His mind was becoming fussy and he was back on Mount Doom, holding his master close as he fled down the mountain. He could feel the terrible wound on Frodo's head seeping out more and more of his life blood. He was jarred and jolted and came to his final resting place upon the harsh, wicked rocks of Orodruin. Putrid fumes and acids reigned from the blackened sky and the earth moaned and shook. Sam's master left him that day. Died upon that mountain. And Sam could now feel the effects of that loss tearing at his broken heart. His master was gone. Frodo no longer lived in that body.
Sam found himself standing beside the bed of the writhing hobbit. When Frodo ceased his panic he looked up at Sam, eyes burning with fear. They softened as they rested upon Sam's face and he threw his arms around him again, nuzzling securely against him like a contented kitten. Sam's body shook with heaves as he sobbed but Frodo did not seem to understand. The simple hobbit looked up, his eyebrows knotting with a question his brain could not quite form. He pressed his palm against Sam's wet cheek and showed it to him, the same questioning look on his face. "Tears!" Sam yelled, almost angrily and Frodo shrank back.
"Look what's It's done! Look what that foul, wretched thing has done to you! What you've become!" Sam gripped Frodo, roughly, by the shoulders and the hobbit squeaked, now even more confused than before. If he had gained anything, it was that the creature before him would protect him. And now he was even more confused as he was shaken by it, rough hands digging into his shoulders. "And you don't even know what this is!" Sam let Frodo drop and put his own hand to his cheek showing Frodo the tears. "They're tears! I'm crying!" he panted and his rage began to drain. "I'm- I'm crying..." his voice began to lower as the hobbit in front of him trembled. Sam took in a deep breath. "People cry- people cry when they are sad. I am sad because you- you aren't the same as you were before. Do you understand?"
Frodo did not respond. His bright eyes darting across Sam's face, searching, searching for something. Some answer. Some way for him to know. He did not understand the words. They were just babble to him. But the face. It changed. It went from warm, kind, gentle, safe. Then it was all scrunched up, all wet, his lips curled down, his eyes shimmered with water, and then his teeth clenched together. His face tightened, fingers dug into his shoulders. Frodo rubbed his shoulders at the thought as Sam's keen eyes bore into him for some kind of response. *What did this creature want?*
"Look what It's done! What you've become! What It's reduced you to!" Sam muttered his voice shaking. "You weren't always like this, you know. You were always so wise, so learned. You were leadin' me all the time. You taught me everything worth knowin'! Everything. Ever since I was a little lad I- I looked up to you, Mr. Frodo. I always wanted to be like you. An' now, well, me takin' care a' you like this, it- it's-" Sam stopped. He gave up. His words were just wind to his master's ears. He buried his face in his hands and sat on the edge of the bed.
Some time passed. Sam could not tell how much. All was darkness to him. Thoughts ran by too quickly for him to catch. But in the darkness he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was trembling terribly and he looked up. Frodo sat himself down next to him and stared intently into his eyes. Sam saw tears trailing down Frodo's face. "I'm sorry I- I must a' just made matters worse for you- you- must be so confused- and I yelled- I'm-" Frodo pressed his hand to his cheek and showed the glimmering tears to Sam. He then pressed them on Sam's cheek and sat like that for a long while before Sam choked out, "Tears."
Frodo didn't respond to the babble he heard. Some odd tendency for this creature to make funny noises. But he supposed he did the same and rested his head on its shoulder.
Sam patted Frodo's back as the simple hobbit sighed contentedly. Sam rocked him back and forth humming a gentle lullaby. Frodo just simply smiled and listened intently. These strange sounds he liked. They combined together and sounded pleasent to his ears. Sam choked often, he didn't like this at all. This wasn't his child, this wasn't his son. This was his master and yet he was treating him like a child. He hated it, he despised it, he loathed it in every way. But he could not mistreat Frodo like that again.
His horrid actions finally hit him and he felt like he got the wind punched out of him. He hurt him. Frodo couldn't help it. He was trapped like this and he hurt him for it. He yelled at him. Sam, the one that always should have protected him, kept him safe and warm, treated him with kindness, pity, love. Instead he jostled him, insulted him, berated him for what he was. What he was. The thought hurt Sam so very much. This is what his master was. Reduced to a simple child. Didn't even know what tears were. Sam berated himself over and over for this. He would make a terrible father if he treated his children this way. Got so frustrated over tears. Such bitter wasteful tears that this simple hobbit could not understand in his world.
And as all of this twisted into some bitter knot deep inside Sam's belly something else added to it and he felt like he was going to retch. Sam stood up quickly letting Frodo fall with a squeak. He rushed over to Envin's healing items and sought desperately for a bowl. Finding nothing he darted outside and retched all the contents of his stomach until nothing but bile coated his throat. He coughed and heaved and finally fell to the grass sobbing.
Frodo forgave him. So quickly, so simply as if nothing had happened. Frodo trusted him so much, seconds after he had hurt him, thrown him, screamed and insulted him, that gentle sould leaned his head on his shoulder and smiled softly as if it had never happened. He realized, finally, how much faith this frightened hobbit put in him. He was lost in a world he did not know. He was alone and frightened and confused, yet he trusted Sam. He was the single thing in this world Frodo trusted. Even after he was hurt by him, he did not lose faith in him. He did not fear him. Like a loyal dog that could have been kicked and sorely mistreated by his master always returned to his side ready stand by him, never once doubting the love of his master, even if it wasn't there.
Sam finally let the darkness take him as he passed out next to the rejected contents of his stomach. The hot sun burned down on him and he lay alone outside the tent clutching the grass to stop the world from spinning.
Frodo was lying on the bed as Sam left him, staring wide eyed where the creature had run out of the tent in such a frenzy. He waited patiently for a while, knowing his protector would return to him. He waited and heard odd sounds outside. They seemed painful and he finally sat up. Pain. That he knew. He knew it so well. Was his protector in pain? Frodo set his feet on the ground ready to venture out of the safe confines of his tent. Slowly, each step had to be so intently focussed on as he stumbled forward. In blind panic he could run or crawl as quickly as his limbs could fly. But this upright walking was so very difficult. Still his protector had done it, had held him and tried to make him do it. He should try. One furry foot balanced his weight steadily as the other made its way to the ground. Point it forward, not sideways. Don't twist yourself. Bend. Push. Balance. Such a difficult task how did these creatures do it?
He finally reached the flaps of the tent and his little fists gripped them desperately. There was a warm gold light coming from out there. He shied away from it instinctively. It was hot, not cold, bright, not dark. Yet it wasn't there. He could not hold it, grab it, touch it. He watched little seeds float through the gold light that were invisible in the darkness. Tiny little spores that would one day find a home in the ground and sprout life. He ran his hand through it. It was warm and the little seeds danced around his fingers. Facinating. Strange. New. He finally plucked up enough courage to look out.
Like a timid rabbit he peered out until his eyes rested on his protector lying on the ground, not moving. That was odd. He normally moved a lot. And made strange noises too. That babble was becoming enjoyable. He fell to the ground. Crawling was somehow easier. He made his way to his protector's side and nestled close. Now this place was amazing! He couldn't grasp it all at once. The colors! Lots of green. He nestled close and smiled. He was safe now. By his protector's side once more. He could not have been more content but he missed the gentle hum, the mumbling babble. Why wasn't the creature doing any of those things? Frodo's mind could not begin to question this so he stayed where he was until the hot sun made him drowsy.
This was how Envin, Merry, and Pippin found them when they returned.