Days passed like minutes to Sam but the hours stretched like years. He
could not bear it. He spent most of his time inside the tent or right in
front of it, on the green grass, in the warm sun. His master never left his
side. Envin still had not resumed the treatment. He was waiting for Sam to
give the word. Sam knew. He watched Frodo, who had now been dressed in the
garb of the Gondorian children like himself. Frodo was quiet, taking things
in often, but they were so much, too much for him to entirely grasp. Words
jumbled in his mind, sky and ground became one amazing thing to him. He
liked sounds though. His ears perked up every time Sam spoke and he saw
Frodo's face change whenever his own voice took on a harsh or gentle tone.
Frodo seemed immensely fascinated with the giggles of Emarin who now
visited the tent often. She was true to her word, though, and Rosie stayed
with Frodo.
~~~
It finally came. Mid-years day was upon Ithilian and with it the wedding day of Lord Elessar and Lady Arwen. The man and the elf woman visited the tent that day and to Sam's relief said he did not have to attend. He so wished to see the fair elves and hear the music of the party. But Frodo would refuse to leave his side and he did not wish his master to be around that many people so soon. Arwen sat with both hobbits for a long while treating them both as she had treated them in Rivendell. Sam was relieved.
Aragorn, Arwen, and Sam sat on the grass outside the tent watching Frodo play with Rosie and Emarin. The sun would soon set and then the couple would soon depart. Sam did not wish it so. He enjoyed the company, Merry and Pippin were busy preparing for the feast as were most of the soldiers of Gondor and Rohan which meant Emáten would not be visiting at all that night as well. Legolas and Gimli were awfully distant since that time, they seemed very solemn and cautious whenever they visited, now, and Legolas kept his head bowed as if with shame.
Sam looked up to see Arwen humming, her voice soft and swaying as the warm spring breeze. Aragorn seemed to breath it in, a life force for him somehow. Sam looked up and saw the lady kneeling peacefully beside him and the lord standing strongly with his hand lain across his breast, staring at the sky. Her voice seemed to be what kept him standing.
Her keen eyes fell on Sam and he quickly blushed for being caught staring. He turned his head down and stared at his lap bashfully. "I- I was wonderin' my lady, have all the elves come?"
"What do you mean, Samwise?" she smiled and her voice was soft and kind.
"The elves from Lorien. Have they arrived?"
"Yes they have, Sam. They have not visited because no one wished to frighten Frodo any more." Arwen lay her fair, slender hand upon Sam's little brown one and he looked up, the blood rushing to his ears. She smiled sweetly and her eyes sparkled as the sun fell gently upon her features. Sam almost gasped as the sight. "They are all worried for you, both of you. But I am not." Her eyes fell on the little white jewel around Sam's neck. "Does it give you hope?"
Sam followed her glance and he lifted a hand to fondle the little jewel. "Sometimes at night," he murmured lightly, "When everything seems black and the stars seem too far away. It gives me light." He grasped it tightly, "But it's hard to find. So very faint, if you follow, small as it seems and tucked away. Don't seem like it could ever overcome that much darkness."
Arwen leaned forward and whispered softly into Sam's ear, "Sometimes you may find hope unlooked for, even in the darkest places." She straightened and Sam looked up at her. He did not try to hide the confusion on his face nor the tears in his eyes.
"Your master," she continued and then turned to the little hobbit and the girl playing a few feet away. Frodo was just watching her as if her every movement, her every sigh was something strange and moving. He sat in wonder and gasped at the soft gentleness of the kitten. "Did he not have a light, deep inside of him?"
Sam's eyes widened, "Yes," he said urgently then lowered his voice. "He did. I saw it three times, I think. In Rivendell when he recovered from that wicked wound. I thought I saw it. It started in his eyes and radiated out of him and all through him, pale and lovely. I thought I was just seein' things, then. But I saw it again, when he brought out the phial in Mordor. The light seemed to come from his very hand! I thought I was just seein' things again. But the third time. When he fought that Gollum creature away. He stood up and it was all light. Bright and white blazing like a beacon from him. In his eyes and all through him, piercing and strong..." Sam's voice faded.
"And since then? Has it been there?" said the lady.
"No," Sam bowed his head. "I reckon I forgot to look."
"You haven't been looking for it? Perhaps you should look for it." Her answer seemed all too simple and obvious, but politely, Sam gave it a try.
Sam looked at his master now dark against the setting sun and he could see nothing. The sky was almost dark now and the couple were to be married under the stars and prepared to leave. Sam watched as the last flames of sunlight licked at the horizon and the tip of the circling orb disappeared in a flash that illuminated the sky. Sam gasped. He watched as Frodo's figure appeared before him, bright and blazing, eyes shining and hair crowned with a halo of white light. It seemed, to Sam's eyes, that his master stood now, tall and stiff with a hand to his breast as he had seen the king. The worn garb of the Gondorien children tattered and blew away like wisps of smoke and a great white robe seemed to be writhing along his master's slender form. By the hand that Frodo had lain upon his breast, where once Sam had seen a blazing wheel of fire was now a small dark hole, as if that part of Frodo had been worn away and now darkness existed. Sam stood up and the flash of light was gone. All light faded now as the darkness stretched across the sky and tiny stars could be seen strewn across the blackness. His master was kneeling again, his head bowed as he looked down at the kitten. Sam could not see his face.
"Mr. Frodo?" Sam's voice hitched and his master looked up at the very sound of it. Sam felt hands lain upon his shoulder and he looked up. "Lady Arwen, did you see-"
"Shh, I don't need to." She bent and lay a kiss upon Sam's curls as the hands slid off his shoulders. She turned and joined her husband-to-be as they disappeared into the dark evening. Sam hugged his arms to him as a cool breeze warned that the night would be a cold one and he brought his master, Emarin, and the kitten into the tent where Envin was resting peacefully.
Sam brought Frodo before Envin and the healer raised an eyebrow scrutinously. "Does this mean you have decided Samwise?" Sam nodded and sucked in his breath. Envin stood and bade his sister join the festivities and seek Emáten. She obeyed leaving the kitten sleeping peacefully upon the bed. Frodo blinked curiously as he saw the little girl leave and the healer grabbed his wrist and lead him to the chair. He obeyed and sat down, watching every movement of Envin and Sam. Sam stood next to Frodo without a sound and gripped his hand tightly. Frodo looked up, confused. Envin returned with his clean surgical knife and held it before Frodo.
Frodo's eyes fell on it. *What does it want me to do with this?*
Envin turned the knife slowly and light shone in Frodo's eyes. The hobbit blinked and rubbed them, then watched the knife shine again. Sam's hand jerked on his own and now Frodo's attention was on his protector. Sam did not look him in the eye, his own gaze on Frodo's outstretched arm. Frodo looked at it too but the instant he did he saw the flicker of the knife fly across his skin and his eyes widened and teared. The knife barely had time to leave his skin before Frodo jerked his arm back and cradled it, shaking violently. He cried out, a shrill scream as he felt warm blood soak his hand as it held the cut.
Frodo felt his breath come in short heaves and he curled up and fell to the floor, refusing to let anyone near him. Sam finally overpowered him by snatching his bloody arm and holding it in place as Envin wrapped it. Sam quickly brought a wet cloth to the arm and wiped away the blood as Frodo looked up reluctantly.
Sam forced him up as Envin retreated to clean the knife for another turn. Gently Sam went about cleaning Frodo's face which was now stained with tears. The simple hobbit looked up at Sam, searching for some answer, some explanation to just what that was. It hurt, sharp and stinging, then it burned and now it was a heavy throb that made his whole arm feel weak. Frodo bit his quivering lip as he saw the pain on Sam's face. *What hurt him now?*
Frodo instinctively put his hands on Sam's arm and felt around. There was no cut or burn or sting or throb there. Sam watched the simple hobbit closely. "What are you looking for?" he muttered. Frodo looked up briefly but then went about examining Sam's arm again.
Something had hurt his protector, he assumed it was the same thing that hurt him. He sought a way to relieve the pain and knew he must find the source. His hands worked nimbly along Sam's arm as he pressed and prodded curiously. He ran a finger along the forearm and found it clean and unscathed. *Why was he hurt? Was he hurt because the shining thing had hurt me?* Frodo looked up at Sam examining the facial expression and storing it away.
Frodo did not like it when Sam was in pain and Sam could tell. The simple hobbit became immediately alert and aware, searching Sam for some way to help him. He did not have to wonder what it felt like to be so helpless, so deep in darkness. He knew precisely how this frustrated Frodo for it frustrated him as well. He could do nothing for Frodo, to heal him, to find him, as Frodo could do nothing to see what pained Sam so.
Envin returned with the knife and Frodo shied away. Sam held him tightly though and would not let him run. Frodo obeyed quietly and stayed put. Envin leaned over to Sam and held out the knife. "Do you think he understands the danger yet?" said Sam. Envin cast a glance to Frodo who was eyeing the knife warily.
"I do," said Envin, "But he seems more concerned with- you."
"What are you suggesting?" Sam cast a glance at the knife.
"Would you?"
"Of course!" said Sam without any hesitation. "That is if you think it will help."
"Let us see," said Envin, holding aloft the knife again. Frodo shrank into Sam and whimpered pitifully. Sam's hold on Frodo's wrist tightened.
Envin shone the knife in Frodo's eyes as he had done the last time. This time Frodo blinked and rubbed his eyes and then left them squeezed shut as a child trying to make frightful things go away. Simple thinking that if you do not see the danger it cannot be there. After a moment Frodo tentatively opened his eyes and Envin took this chance. He let the knife fall, swiftly without a falter, and slashed upon Sam's skin. Sam let out a cry.
"Don't hold it in, Sam," Envin muttered, "Show him your pain."
Sam grunted and a short sob escaped his throat as he gritted his teeth against the pain. He fell to his knees shaking. Alright, perhaps he could have stayed on his feet but Envin did say to show Frodo his pain. It was as if with that knife came all the memories of Frodo smiling at Bag-End as he saw his faithful gardener coming up the hill. As every image of his master leaning over a book and pointing to the smooth flowing script as Sam watched with awe. Images of Frodo showing him how to read, how to write, picking a thick book out of the library and clutching it warmly to him as if it were the most precious thing in the world. Frodo standing in the garden, complimenting on the beauty of the flowers in the fair elven tongue, then again in westron just as fair. And finally, Frodo, dragging his torn and broken body across the black, ashen lands of Mordor, resolve in his eyes. And now Sam expressed all of his pain in one simple scream as he fell to the ground and sobbed. For a moment he let the despair finally take him.
Envin watched in horror before running to get the wraps and bonds for the shallow wound. Frodo's eyes widened as he fell to Sam's side gasping and crying. His eyes ran across Sam's whole body, darting back and forth frantically. His hands shook as they hovered over Sam. He did not know what to do! What could he do? What was wrong? Sam lay motionless for a long while still thinking of what his master used to be. He was barely aware that Frodo was leaning over him frantic with fear, worry, and confusion.
His protector was limp. Just fell, withered as if the very legs were cut from under him. Frodo's mouth worked soundlessly in a mumble of nothing, trying to fit something, some word to all of this, some sound. He could come up with nothing but a loud cry and Envin returned with the wraps. He lifted Sam and suddenly the young gardener came back to that world and looked around wearily. "I'm sorry I must a' just lost my head."
"Quite alright, Sam, you certainly got through to him." Sam turned as Envin was wrapping his arm and saw Frodo leaning forward, arms outstretched, mouth agape, and eyes full of tears.
"Should I say something?" asked Sam as his heart wrenched at the sight of his master looking completely frightened and helpless.
"Go right ahead, we are done for tonight." Envin finished cleaning Sam's cut and retreated to his things neatly putting away the wraps and cleaning the knife. Sam crawled over to where his master was sitting. Frodo was still, as if he had been struck in the face. He whimpered lightly as Sam took him in his arms. Something he had not done since they were in Mordor, trying to shield each other from the death and darkness all around them. Sam cradled his master like a child and mumbled kind words.
"You see, Mr. Frodo?" he said gently. "There are good things in this world. Like the grass outside and the flowers. But there are bad things too. Do you understand?" Frodo just sniffed and smiled gently hopping to here some more babble. Sam did continue, knowing it made his master happy.
"You see, flowers are very pretty, but also very delicate, you gotta know just what each one needs. Now they all need a good bit of water and sunlight but you just can't go pluckin' them from the ground like such. They die. You shouldn't pluck 'em especially when they are small and young, before they bloom. The buds are just baby flowers, you can't pluck 'em then." Frodo smiled up at Sam and he continued. "Now knives are sharp things. They aren't always hurtful, depends on who's usin' it, but you must always be careful. You cannot go foolin' with them like toys, or you'll get hurt again." Sam pressed a finger gently on Frodo's wrapped wound and he pulled away with a hiss of pain. "See?"
Frodo turned confused eyes up to Sam. Sam sighed but Frodo was not finished. He took Sam's hand gently and laid it on his arm. He looked back up at Sam expectantly. Tears filled Sam's eyes. He was beginning to understand. "Yes," choked Sam. "That hurts don't it? A knife cut you. Knife. They hurt, I know, and they can kill you too."
Frodo looked back down at the wrap. *A knife?* He turned this over in his mind for a while until Sam sighed and shifted. Frodo looked up expectantly at him, *What's troubling him now?*
"Maybe we ought to get to bed," yawned Sam as he helped Frodo to his feet. Frodo followed but seemed to be occupied with his arm all night and did not fall asleep right away. *Knife.*
~~~
It finally came. Mid-years day was upon Ithilian and with it the wedding day of Lord Elessar and Lady Arwen. The man and the elf woman visited the tent that day and to Sam's relief said he did not have to attend. He so wished to see the fair elves and hear the music of the party. But Frodo would refuse to leave his side and he did not wish his master to be around that many people so soon. Arwen sat with both hobbits for a long while treating them both as she had treated them in Rivendell. Sam was relieved.
Aragorn, Arwen, and Sam sat on the grass outside the tent watching Frodo play with Rosie and Emarin. The sun would soon set and then the couple would soon depart. Sam did not wish it so. He enjoyed the company, Merry and Pippin were busy preparing for the feast as were most of the soldiers of Gondor and Rohan which meant Emáten would not be visiting at all that night as well. Legolas and Gimli were awfully distant since that time, they seemed very solemn and cautious whenever they visited, now, and Legolas kept his head bowed as if with shame.
Sam looked up to see Arwen humming, her voice soft and swaying as the warm spring breeze. Aragorn seemed to breath it in, a life force for him somehow. Sam looked up and saw the lady kneeling peacefully beside him and the lord standing strongly with his hand lain across his breast, staring at the sky. Her voice seemed to be what kept him standing.
Her keen eyes fell on Sam and he quickly blushed for being caught staring. He turned his head down and stared at his lap bashfully. "I- I was wonderin' my lady, have all the elves come?"
"What do you mean, Samwise?" she smiled and her voice was soft and kind.
"The elves from Lorien. Have they arrived?"
"Yes they have, Sam. They have not visited because no one wished to frighten Frodo any more." Arwen lay her fair, slender hand upon Sam's little brown one and he looked up, the blood rushing to his ears. She smiled sweetly and her eyes sparkled as the sun fell gently upon her features. Sam almost gasped as the sight. "They are all worried for you, both of you. But I am not." Her eyes fell on the little white jewel around Sam's neck. "Does it give you hope?"
Sam followed her glance and he lifted a hand to fondle the little jewel. "Sometimes at night," he murmured lightly, "When everything seems black and the stars seem too far away. It gives me light." He grasped it tightly, "But it's hard to find. So very faint, if you follow, small as it seems and tucked away. Don't seem like it could ever overcome that much darkness."
Arwen leaned forward and whispered softly into Sam's ear, "Sometimes you may find hope unlooked for, even in the darkest places." She straightened and Sam looked up at her. He did not try to hide the confusion on his face nor the tears in his eyes.
"Your master," she continued and then turned to the little hobbit and the girl playing a few feet away. Frodo was just watching her as if her every movement, her every sigh was something strange and moving. He sat in wonder and gasped at the soft gentleness of the kitten. "Did he not have a light, deep inside of him?"
Sam's eyes widened, "Yes," he said urgently then lowered his voice. "He did. I saw it three times, I think. In Rivendell when he recovered from that wicked wound. I thought I saw it. It started in his eyes and radiated out of him and all through him, pale and lovely. I thought I was just seein' things, then. But I saw it again, when he brought out the phial in Mordor. The light seemed to come from his very hand! I thought I was just seein' things again. But the third time. When he fought that Gollum creature away. He stood up and it was all light. Bright and white blazing like a beacon from him. In his eyes and all through him, piercing and strong..." Sam's voice faded.
"And since then? Has it been there?" said the lady.
"No," Sam bowed his head. "I reckon I forgot to look."
"You haven't been looking for it? Perhaps you should look for it." Her answer seemed all too simple and obvious, but politely, Sam gave it a try.
Sam looked at his master now dark against the setting sun and he could see nothing. The sky was almost dark now and the couple were to be married under the stars and prepared to leave. Sam watched as the last flames of sunlight licked at the horizon and the tip of the circling orb disappeared in a flash that illuminated the sky. Sam gasped. He watched as Frodo's figure appeared before him, bright and blazing, eyes shining and hair crowned with a halo of white light. It seemed, to Sam's eyes, that his master stood now, tall and stiff with a hand to his breast as he had seen the king. The worn garb of the Gondorien children tattered and blew away like wisps of smoke and a great white robe seemed to be writhing along his master's slender form. By the hand that Frodo had lain upon his breast, where once Sam had seen a blazing wheel of fire was now a small dark hole, as if that part of Frodo had been worn away and now darkness existed. Sam stood up and the flash of light was gone. All light faded now as the darkness stretched across the sky and tiny stars could be seen strewn across the blackness. His master was kneeling again, his head bowed as he looked down at the kitten. Sam could not see his face.
"Mr. Frodo?" Sam's voice hitched and his master looked up at the very sound of it. Sam felt hands lain upon his shoulder and he looked up. "Lady Arwen, did you see-"
"Shh, I don't need to." She bent and lay a kiss upon Sam's curls as the hands slid off his shoulders. She turned and joined her husband-to-be as they disappeared into the dark evening. Sam hugged his arms to him as a cool breeze warned that the night would be a cold one and he brought his master, Emarin, and the kitten into the tent where Envin was resting peacefully.
Sam brought Frodo before Envin and the healer raised an eyebrow scrutinously. "Does this mean you have decided Samwise?" Sam nodded and sucked in his breath. Envin stood and bade his sister join the festivities and seek Emáten. She obeyed leaving the kitten sleeping peacefully upon the bed. Frodo blinked curiously as he saw the little girl leave and the healer grabbed his wrist and lead him to the chair. He obeyed and sat down, watching every movement of Envin and Sam. Sam stood next to Frodo without a sound and gripped his hand tightly. Frodo looked up, confused. Envin returned with his clean surgical knife and held it before Frodo.
Frodo's eyes fell on it. *What does it want me to do with this?*
Envin turned the knife slowly and light shone in Frodo's eyes. The hobbit blinked and rubbed them, then watched the knife shine again. Sam's hand jerked on his own and now Frodo's attention was on his protector. Sam did not look him in the eye, his own gaze on Frodo's outstretched arm. Frodo looked at it too but the instant he did he saw the flicker of the knife fly across his skin and his eyes widened and teared. The knife barely had time to leave his skin before Frodo jerked his arm back and cradled it, shaking violently. He cried out, a shrill scream as he felt warm blood soak his hand as it held the cut.
Frodo felt his breath come in short heaves and he curled up and fell to the floor, refusing to let anyone near him. Sam finally overpowered him by snatching his bloody arm and holding it in place as Envin wrapped it. Sam quickly brought a wet cloth to the arm and wiped away the blood as Frodo looked up reluctantly.
Sam forced him up as Envin retreated to clean the knife for another turn. Gently Sam went about cleaning Frodo's face which was now stained with tears. The simple hobbit looked up at Sam, searching for some answer, some explanation to just what that was. It hurt, sharp and stinging, then it burned and now it was a heavy throb that made his whole arm feel weak. Frodo bit his quivering lip as he saw the pain on Sam's face. *What hurt him now?*
Frodo instinctively put his hands on Sam's arm and felt around. There was no cut or burn or sting or throb there. Sam watched the simple hobbit closely. "What are you looking for?" he muttered. Frodo looked up briefly but then went about examining Sam's arm again.
Something had hurt his protector, he assumed it was the same thing that hurt him. He sought a way to relieve the pain and knew he must find the source. His hands worked nimbly along Sam's arm as he pressed and prodded curiously. He ran a finger along the forearm and found it clean and unscathed. *Why was he hurt? Was he hurt because the shining thing had hurt me?* Frodo looked up at Sam examining the facial expression and storing it away.
Frodo did not like it when Sam was in pain and Sam could tell. The simple hobbit became immediately alert and aware, searching Sam for some way to help him. He did not have to wonder what it felt like to be so helpless, so deep in darkness. He knew precisely how this frustrated Frodo for it frustrated him as well. He could do nothing for Frodo, to heal him, to find him, as Frodo could do nothing to see what pained Sam so.
Envin returned with the knife and Frodo shied away. Sam held him tightly though and would not let him run. Frodo obeyed quietly and stayed put. Envin leaned over to Sam and held out the knife. "Do you think he understands the danger yet?" said Sam. Envin cast a glance to Frodo who was eyeing the knife warily.
"I do," said Envin, "But he seems more concerned with- you."
"What are you suggesting?" Sam cast a glance at the knife.
"Would you?"
"Of course!" said Sam without any hesitation. "That is if you think it will help."
"Let us see," said Envin, holding aloft the knife again. Frodo shrank into Sam and whimpered pitifully. Sam's hold on Frodo's wrist tightened.
Envin shone the knife in Frodo's eyes as he had done the last time. This time Frodo blinked and rubbed his eyes and then left them squeezed shut as a child trying to make frightful things go away. Simple thinking that if you do not see the danger it cannot be there. After a moment Frodo tentatively opened his eyes and Envin took this chance. He let the knife fall, swiftly without a falter, and slashed upon Sam's skin. Sam let out a cry.
"Don't hold it in, Sam," Envin muttered, "Show him your pain."
Sam grunted and a short sob escaped his throat as he gritted his teeth against the pain. He fell to his knees shaking. Alright, perhaps he could have stayed on his feet but Envin did say to show Frodo his pain. It was as if with that knife came all the memories of Frodo smiling at Bag-End as he saw his faithful gardener coming up the hill. As every image of his master leaning over a book and pointing to the smooth flowing script as Sam watched with awe. Images of Frodo showing him how to read, how to write, picking a thick book out of the library and clutching it warmly to him as if it were the most precious thing in the world. Frodo standing in the garden, complimenting on the beauty of the flowers in the fair elven tongue, then again in westron just as fair. And finally, Frodo, dragging his torn and broken body across the black, ashen lands of Mordor, resolve in his eyes. And now Sam expressed all of his pain in one simple scream as he fell to the ground and sobbed. For a moment he let the despair finally take him.
Envin watched in horror before running to get the wraps and bonds for the shallow wound. Frodo's eyes widened as he fell to Sam's side gasping and crying. His eyes ran across Sam's whole body, darting back and forth frantically. His hands shook as they hovered over Sam. He did not know what to do! What could he do? What was wrong? Sam lay motionless for a long while still thinking of what his master used to be. He was barely aware that Frodo was leaning over him frantic with fear, worry, and confusion.
His protector was limp. Just fell, withered as if the very legs were cut from under him. Frodo's mouth worked soundlessly in a mumble of nothing, trying to fit something, some word to all of this, some sound. He could come up with nothing but a loud cry and Envin returned with the wraps. He lifted Sam and suddenly the young gardener came back to that world and looked around wearily. "I'm sorry I must a' just lost my head."
"Quite alright, Sam, you certainly got through to him." Sam turned as Envin was wrapping his arm and saw Frodo leaning forward, arms outstretched, mouth agape, and eyes full of tears.
"Should I say something?" asked Sam as his heart wrenched at the sight of his master looking completely frightened and helpless.
"Go right ahead, we are done for tonight." Envin finished cleaning Sam's cut and retreated to his things neatly putting away the wraps and cleaning the knife. Sam crawled over to where his master was sitting. Frodo was still, as if he had been struck in the face. He whimpered lightly as Sam took him in his arms. Something he had not done since they were in Mordor, trying to shield each other from the death and darkness all around them. Sam cradled his master like a child and mumbled kind words.
"You see, Mr. Frodo?" he said gently. "There are good things in this world. Like the grass outside and the flowers. But there are bad things too. Do you understand?" Frodo just sniffed and smiled gently hopping to here some more babble. Sam did continue, knowing it made his master happy.
"You see, flowers are very pretty, but also very delicate, you gotta know just what each one needs. Now they all need a good bit of water and sunlight but you just can't go pluckin' them from the ground like such. They die. You shouldn't pluck 'em especially when they are small and young, before they bloom. The buds are just baby flowers, you can't pluck 'em then." Frodo smiled up at Sam and he continued. "Now knives are sharp things. They aren't always hurtful, depends on who's usin' it, but you must always be careful. You cannot go foolin' with them like toys, or you'll get hurt again." Sam pressed a finger gently on Frodo's wrapped wound and he pulled away with a hiss of pain. "See?"
Frodo turned confused eyes up to Sam. Sam sighed but Frodo was not finished. He took Sam's hand gently and laid it on his arm. He looked back up at Sam expectantly. Tears filled Sam's eyes. He was beginning to understand. "Yes," choked Sam. "That hurts don't it? A knife cut you. Knife. They hurt, I know, and they can kill you too."
Frodo looked back down at the wrap. *A knife?* He turned this over in his mind for a while until Sam sighed and shifted. Frodo looked up expectantly at him, *What's troubling him now?*
"Maybe we ought to get to bed," yawned Sam as he helped Frodo to his feet. Frodo followed but seemed to be occupied with his arm all night and did not fall asleep right away. *Knife.*