Chapter Two: Thoughts in the Middle of Nowhere

DISCLAIMER: Tolkien owns this. Not me. I'm sad now. Very very sad.

"So, Mr. Frodo, where do we have to go again?" Adjusting the heavy pack on his back to a more comfortable position, Sam asked the question he had asked at least three times before.

A little annoyed, Frodo stopped and looked around. "Sam, I've told you. We're bringing it to Bree, where Gandalf will catch up with us again. Now, I have a question for you: do you doubt your own determination? Your own courage? The reason I ask is because I'm starting to believe that you only came along with me is because Gandalf made you. What's ailing you?"

Surprised at the sudden rush of questions, Sam took a minute to answer. "Well, it just seems like too much. Mr. Frodo, I'm leaving my home, the Gaffer and my whole family, my entire life behind in the Shire. This mission, or whatever it is, with it- it meaning the Ring, I suppose-"

"Sam!" chided Frodo sharply. "Don't say that!"

"Who could hear me? We're in the middle of the country? And anyway, as I was saying, Gandalf made out that it is a pretty powerful thing, and I don't want to get all mixed up in wars for the entire Middle-earth. I mean, I have all I ever wanted in the Shire. Why should I have to leave that?"

There was a silence except for the birds twittering to the breeze high above them. Frodo looked right at Sam as he broke it. "That's what I want to know. There's still time to look back. The Enemy doesn't know you are with me or that you know of it. If you don't go with me, I'm most likely to fail. Everything that you just mentioned, the Shire, the Gaffer, those would all be gone, destroyed, dead…" The hobbit's voice trailed off as he stared into the distance, as if contemplating the dawn.

Sam also thought deeply, eyes screwed up in concentration, trying to imagine the image Frodo had presented. He could not imagine life without… well, life. What he considered as life- the sun, the moon, the stars, nature, and of course, those who inhabited it. Knowing that he would regret these words later, he took a shuddering breath and opened his eyes, as though condemning himself to death. "No. I'm coming."

Frodo started as if drawn out of a trance. He smiled broadly. "I'm really glad you're with me, Sam. I could not tread this dark road alone. I owe you a lot, the Gaffer owes you a lot, Middle-earth owes you."

Grinning sheepishly even though he was enjoying the compliments, Sam surveyed the land surrounding them. "That's pushing it a little, Mr. Frodo. So, where do you think we are?"

At this time, another Hobbit bounded up from behind. "You two old people walk pretty fast for your age. Why and more importantly how did you get so far ahead of me?"

"I don't rightly know Master Pippin. I guess either we're too fast, or you're too slow!" Sam grinned slightly as he said that. "What do you have in that pack anyway? You seemed doubled over!"

Pippin frowned and dropped his pack with a dulled thump to the ground. He opened it and stared at the contents. "Why, it's your entire hoard of cooking gear, Sam Gamgee! What's the meaning of this?"

Sam chuckled. It felt good to laugh and not think of the road ahead. He suddenly bounded ahead, his voice brought back to the other two on the wind, "Last one to that dead stump up there is what the orcs dragged in!"

Laughing, Frodo took off after his gardener. "Come on, Pippin, unless you want to be orc dung!"

Looking indignant, the youngest Hobbit hauled the heavy pot and pan laden pack back onto his back and started up a reluctant trot. "I don't think that was very fair, Samwise! You need to haul your own pack around!"

Sam just laughed, but Frodo didn't. This carefree mood would not last for long. He had dragged two of his best friends on a journey that would most likely end in death, but they didn't realize that. What had he done?

The three Hobbits trudged wearily down the Road. Frodo frowned, surveying the surrounding lands. "Do either of you hear something?" Sam and Pippin also stopped, listening hard. "Yes, that!" Frodo heard it again. The sound swelled and increased in volume slightly. It was a song.

Ori rũ uin gaearon,

Ori daur uin sen Ennor

Pán uin mín sí rín…

O Elbereth! Gilthoniel!

"Sam! They speak the name of Elbereth! They are Elves!" Frodo turned to his companion, watching for his reaction.

Surprised at the sudden appearance of elves in his homeland, Sam felt a mix of emotion- happiness and worry, because things were too different. He did nothing but listen to the music and feel the refreshing breeze.

TBC…

Please review. (No action yet, sorry!)

This accurately translates into:

Over the loud sound of the great sea,

Over the leagues of this Middle-earth

All of us here remember…

O Elbereth! Gilthoniel!