Disclaimer: AU Story. Based on Shirebound's wonderful drabble, "Grace";
much thanks for her permission. The characters and settings continue to
belong to Tolkien. But the plot is mine and I very much hope that you enjoy
it. ^^
Shirebound: Heh, I see I've induced quite a bit of sighing. It means so much that you're enjoying this. I hope the story continues being so willing to be told!
Aemilia Rose: Aw, thank you! Are you a Sam fan too then? He's such a sweetheart and I should wake him up in this chapter. Sorry for not updating sooner!
Bookworm2000: I'm so pleased you liked the last line. That scene is a huge favourite of mine :-D Hmm, thank you for the idea, think you've inspired some hobbit angst...
MagicalRachel: Alright, I'm sorry, I'll stop talking :-P Heh, I know! I missed Sam, so he should crop up in this chapter. Good luck at Sheffield! You're going to do great.
Senni: I am glad! As long as the chapter worked, then that's OK. "I can never get enough post-Mordor hobbit angst" I shall try not to disappoint! Thanks very much for your lovely review and, in answer to your question: it's kind of an AU story already, but yes, it's going to move about it and go very mad. Mwa ha!
Trust No One: Thank you! I've currently been reading quite a few Cormallen fics- including Shirebound's drabble- and got inspired to do one myself. I'm thrilled you liked Aragorn's character- thanks again!
This chappie dedicated to MagicalRachel for her unfailing support and her new step into the wide world. Don't know what I would have done without you!
~ Chapter Five ~
Aragorn stayed with Frodo until the hobbit drifted off to sleep. The world spun on, if a little sleepily. He smiled at the comforting fall and rise of his friend's chest, an action that he had missed for a great length of time. Frodo looked almost the same as he had in Bree, all those life-ages ago.
"Aragorn?"
He turned to see a little fact at the tent entrance.
"Hmm? What is it, Merry? It's alright, you can come in, he's asleep."
Merry came in and stood awkwardly by the king's chair, fumbling with his hands and looking at the ground. He cleared his throat but said nothing. It seemed he was getting up the courage to say something.
"What is it?" Aragorn asked gently.
"Well," Merry replied, still a little hesitant, "I know that Frodo's feeling a bit, well, confused at the moment, what with all these new faces and such. That's why I'm not sure what he'd make of things that have...changed."
The man frowned.
"What are you getting at?"
"I was wondering what you've told him. For instance, did you mention Gandalf?"
"Gandalf came and spoke to him. I've never seen anyone so amazed in all their lives! But I think he was a little too sleepy to really understand why he should be. No doubt things will be a bit clearer after time."
"Yes. Alright. Well. That's fine. And did you tell him about Boromir?"
"I did. It was the same reaction. He told us about the confrontation too. It seems that Boromir gave him the burst he needed to set off for Mordor in the first place."
"Ah. Interesting. Well. And...what about...well..."
"I told him about the Ring," said Aragorn, finally grasping Merry's train of thought. The hobbit's face creased into lines of age that should not have been there.
"That can't have been much fun," he said dryly, "He hardly needed to hear that. Not after...What did he say?"
Aragorn glanced back to the bed anxiously, rubbing his hand up and down his leg absently as his mind wandered from one unpleasant memory to the next. There would be many more times like that, where Frodo would be lost in the dark with no one to give him light. But surely he had to know.
"He was glad to be rid of it," he answered simply.
Merry's eyebrows almost rose up into his hairline.
"He said _that_?"
"He said that."
The little knight fell silent once more, unable to fill the air with struggling words. His eyes glazed as he looked to the bed, as if he was seeing further and deeper than the pale figure beneath the sheets. Frodo stirred and he broke out of his reverie.
"Sorry, Aragorn. I was just little preoccupied with it. I'll go and get some food for you both. You will tell me if Sam..."
Aragorn's face crumpled in mock horror.
"Meriadoc, how could you doubt me!"
--
Sam felt...he could barely describe it. Warm, that was it. Warmth from the mountain, no doubt. For a few moments, he savoured it. At least it was a refreshing respite from the chill wind that usually woke him on the black plains. But then where was his Master? Sam's eyes snapped open at this and he drew in a gasping breath. He was surprised to find white above him. There was no fog of mealy grey or close sticky air. He reached up a hand towards the whiteness but found he was unable to touch it. He dropped his hand and discovered, to his further consternation, that someone had placed a sheet over him. He went over the contents of his pack in his head. He could not for the life of him remember putting such a thing in there.
"Master?" he said quietly and immediately regretted it. His throat burned and his tongue felt like a furry piece of lead. Swallowing against the stiffness in his chest, he sat up. The whiteness was everywhere. Even a strange white figure sitting across from him and a white bed a few steps away.
"Oh," he breathed, as things began to sink in, "Oh, you wretched Gamgee! No, no, no! Useless wretch I am! Oh, Gollum's gone and killed me. I knew it! I knew it! But Mister Frodo had to go all soft. Frodo! I can't have left him, not on his own!"
There was a murmur of sound, which brought Sam's head round fast on his shoulders. The bed next to him rose and the blankets on it unfurled like ship's sails to reveal a face beneath it. There, amid the unblemished sea of linen, Frodo's fair face looked truly elvish. No line between his brows. No worried murmuring from his lips. It was as if all burdens had been lifted from him. Sam hurriedly pulled himself together and began tearing off his own covers. He swung his legs round and down and tried to stand up. But his feet refused to support him. He felt as if he was trying to walk on clouds. He fell with a frustrated cry, only to be caught in yet more white.
"Honestly, Samwise, you wake up after weeks of sleeping and then the first thing you try and do is stand up! Ridiculous hobbit!"
"I'm sorry, Gandalf, but..."
Sam blinked and went over the sentence again in his head. A face appeared in front of him.
"Gandalf? Aren't you dead?"
The wizard laughed as he helped the bemused hobbit back into bed. It was the sound of bells chiming and a thousand voices singing in Sam's ears. It was better than rainbows and sunshine. It was better than all the music of the elves. It was more beautiful than elves themselves even. As soon as his head rested on the pillow, he sat up again, heedless of the dizzying effect this had on him as he wrapped his arms round Gandalf.
"Oh, Gandalf, Gandalf!" he kept saying, "Sun and stars, it's really you! You ain't gone!"
"No indeed, my dear friend, I am here and so are you, I see. Even after all the dreadful things that good-for-nothing Ringbearer got you into."
"Gandalf! You mustn't say such things!"
"Ah," the wizard said with a sparkle in his eye that could have rivalled Pippin's, "You are a most forgiving soul, Samwise. And I trust there are many things you wish to explain to me. Before you ask, yes, Frodo is safe and well."
"Thank goodness..." Sam gazed up into his friend's eyes and tightened his hold on him, "He was awful brave, Gandalf. Even when things were truly awful, he was the bravest hobbit you ever saw!"
He drew away a moment to examine Frodo's face, making silent sure that there was no unusual movement or cry. He smiled.
"That's my Mister Frodo," he said proudly, "Frodo the Brave...I wouldn't have got far without him, I can tell you that, Gandalf. But, wait...wait one moment, how did I come to be here? If you're not dead then I don't think I am, 'lest I'm a ghost or some such." He cast his companion a wary glance. "I'm not a ghost, am I?"
"Certainly not! My dear Samwise, you are very much a whole hobbit, if not more so."
"Well, that's alright then. But then where am I? How'd I get here? This isn't Mordor by any stretch."
"This," Gandalf swung one arm round and gestured to the entrance of the pavilion, "Is Ithilien, where you briefly stayed, I understand. You were brought by Lord Gwahir of the eagles from the Mountain of Fire, at the end of the War of the Ring and at the end of Mordor itself. The Ring is destroyed. You are among friends."
Sam laughed. And to Gandalf's ears, it was the sound of bells chiming and a thousand voices singing. It was better than rainbows.
Shirebound: Heh, I see I've induced quite a bit of sighing. It means so much that you're enjoying this. I hope the story continues being so willing to be told!
Aemilia Rose: Aw, thank you! Are you a Sam fan too then? He's such a sweetheart and I should wake him up in this chapter. Sorry for not updating sooner!
Bookworm2000: I'm so pleased you liked the last line. That scene is a huge favourite of mine :-D Hmm, thank you for the idea, think you've inspired some hobbit angst...
MagicalRachel: Alright, I'm sorry, I'll stop talking :-P Heh, I know! I missed Sam, so he should crop up in this chapter. Good luck at Sheffield! You're going to do great.
Senni: I am glad! As long as the chapter worked, then that's OK. "I can never get enough post-Mordor hobbit angst" I shall try not to disappoint! Thanks very much for your lovely review and, in answer to your question: it's kind of an AU story already, but yes, it's going to move about it and go very mad. Mwa ha!
Trust No One: Thank you! I've currently been reading quite a few Cormallen fics- including Shirebound's drabble- and got inspired to do one myself. I'm thrilled you liked Aragorn's character- thanks again!
This chappie dedicated to MagicalRachel for her unfailing support and her new step into the wide world. Don't know what I would have done without you!
~ Chapter Five ~
Aragorn stayed with Frodo until the hobbit drifted off to sleep. The world spun on, if a little sleepily. He smiled at the comforting fall and rise of his friend's chest, an action that he had missed for a great length of time. Frodo looked almost the same as he had in Bree, all those life-ages ago.
"Aragorn?"
He turned to see a little fact at the tent entrance.
"Hmm? What is it, Merry? It's alright, you can come in, he's asleep."
Merry came in and stood awkwardly by the king's chair, fumbling with his hands and looking at the ground. He cleared his throat but said nothing. It seemed he was getting up the courage to say something.
"What is it?" Aragorn asked gently.
"Well," Merry replied, still a little hesitant, "I know that Frodo's feeling a bit, well, confused at the moment, what with all these new faces and such. That's why I'm not sure what he'd make of things that have...changed."
The man frowned.
"What are you getting at?"
"I was wondering what you've told him. For instance, did you mention Gandalf?"
"Gandalf came and spoke to him. I've never seen anyone so amazed in all their lives! But I think he was a little too sleepy to really understand why he should be. No doubt things will be a bit clearer after time."
"Yes. Alright. Well. That's fine. And did you tell him about Boromir?"
"I did. It was the same reaction. He told us about the confrontation too. It seems that Boromir gave him the burst he needed to set off for Mordor in the first place."
"Ah. Interesting. Well. And...what about...well..."
"I told him about the Ring," said Aragorn, finally grasping Merry's train of thought. The hobbit's face creased into lines of age that should not have been there.
"That can't have been much fun," he said dryly, "He hardly needed to hear that. Not after...What did he say?"
Aragorn glanced back to the bed anxiously, rubbing his hand up and down his leg absently as his mind wandered from one unpleasant memory to the next. There would be many more times like that, where Frodo would be lost in the dark with no one to give him light. But surely he had to know.
"He was glad to be rid of it," he answered simply.
Merry's eyebrows almost rose up into his hairline.
"He said _that_?"
"He said that."
The little knight fell silent once more, unable to fill the air with struggling words. His eyes glazed as he looked to the bed, as if he was seeing further and deeper than the pale figure beneath the sheets. Frodo stirred and he broke out of his reverie.
"Sorry, Aragorn. I was just little preoccupied with it. I'll go and get some food for you both. You will tell me if Sam..."
Aragorn's face crumpled in mock horror.
"Meriadoc, how could you doubt me!"
--
Sam felt...he could barely describe it. Warm, that was it. Warmth from the mountain, no doubt. For a few moments, he savoured it. At least it was a refreshing respite from the chill wind that usually woke him on the black plains. But then where was his Master? Sam's eyes snapped open at this and he drew in a gasping breath. He was surprised to find white above him. There was no fog of mealy grey or close sticky air. He reached up a hand towards the whiteness but found he was unable to touch it. He dropped his hand and discovered, to his further consternation, that someone had placed a sheet over him. He went over the contents of his pack in his head. He could not for the life of him remember putting such a thing in there.
"Master?" he said quietly and immediately regretted it. His throat burned and his tongue felt like a furry piece of lead. Swallowing against the stiffness in his chest, he sat up. The whiteness was everywhere. Even a strange white figure sitting across from him and a white bed a few steps away.
"Oh," he breathed, as things began to sink in, "Oh, you wretched Gamgee! No, no, no! Useless wretch I am! Oh, Gollum's gone and killed me. I knew it! I knew it! But Mister Frodo had to go all soft. Frodo! I can't have left him, not on his own!"
There was a murmur of sound, which brought Sam's head round fast on his shoulders. The bed next to him rose and the blankets on it unfurled like ship's sails to reveal a face beneath it. There, amid the unblemished sea of linen, Frodo's fair face looked truly elvish. No line between his brows. No worried murmuring from his lips. It was as if all burdens had been lifted from him. Sam hurriedly pulled himself together and began tearing off his own covers. He swung his legs round and down and tried to stand up. But his feet refused to support him. He felt as if he was trying to walk on clouds. He fell with a frustrated cry, only to be caught in yet more white.
"Honestly, Samwise, you wake up after weeks of sleeping and then the first thing you try and do is stand up! Ridiculous hobbit!"
"I'm sorry, Gandalf, but..."
Sam blinked and went over the sentence again in his head. A face appeared in front of him.
"Gandalf? Aren't you dead?"
The wizard laughed as he helped the bemused hobbit back into bed. It was the sound of bells chiming and a thousand voices singing in Sam's ears. It was better than rainbows and sunshine. It was better than all the music of the elves. It was more beautiful than elves themselves even. As soon as his head rested on the pillow, he sat up again, heedless of the dizzying effect this had on him as he wrapped his arms round Gandalf.
"Oh, Gandalf, Gandalf!" he kept saying, "Sun and stars, it's really you! You ain't gone!"
"No indeed, my dear friend, I am here and so are you, I see. Even after all the dreadful things that good-for-nothing Ringbearer got you into."
"Gandalf! You mustn't say such things!"
"Ah," the wizard said with a sparkle in his eye that could have rivalled Pippin's, "You are a most forgiving soul, Samwise. And I trust there are many things you wish to explain to me. Before you ask, yes, Frodo is safe and well."
"Thank goodness..." Sam gazed up into his friend's eyes and tightened his hold on him, "He was awful brave, Gandalf. Even when things were truly awful, he was the bravest hobbit you ever saw!"
He drew away a moment to examine Frodo's face, making silent sure that there was no unusual movement or cry. He smiled.
"That's my Mister Frodo," he said proudly, "Frodo the Brave...I wouldn't have got far without him, I can tell you that, Gandalf. But, wait...wait one moment, how did I come to be here? If you're not dead then I don't think I am, 'lest I'm a ghost or some such." He cast his companion a wary glance. "I'm not a ghost, am I?"
"Certainly not! My dear Samwise, you are very much a whole hobbit, if not more so."
"Well, that's alright then. But then where am I? How'd I get here? This isn't Mordor by any stretch."
"This," Gandalf swung one arm round and gestured to the entrance of the pavilion, "Is Ithilien, where you briefly stayed, I understand. You were brought by Lord Gwahir of the eagles from the Mountain of Fire, at the end of the War of the Ring and at the end of Mordor itself. The Ring is destroyed. You are among friends."
Sam laughed. And to Gandalf's ears, it was the sound of bells chiming and a thousand voices singing. It was better than rainbows.