Summary: Another Frodo/Sam story, set in the TTT book cannon
Rating: PG15
Warnings: Some implied sexual violence/angst/UST
Disclaimer: Everything that is original, timeless and profound belongs to Tolkien and his estate, the remnant is mine. No profit is made, nor offence intended.
Of all the things that could happen, why this? With so much riding on so little, why this now to distract us from our road? Is this the will of the Ring or of Sauron himself?
I was myself for a time, I knew the path I had set my feet upon and though it was not to my liking it was my path and I would walk it to the very end. But now...
I feel as if I am in the middle of a riddle and this one is without beginning or end. And the one rock I can usually count on, my pillar of strength, my anchor in this storm tossed nightmare, has become estranged to me.
How it happened I do not know, but happen it did. For several days, as we toiled across wickedly inhospitable terrain, my dear friend Sam and I were as one. It needed no words for us to gauge the thoughts of the other, our purpose was tangible and real. To deliver the Ring to the Cracks of Doom and have an end to it. Thus with Hobbit pragmatism would we do what Men, Dwarves, Elves and Wizards would not, could not. A little Hobbit commonsense and a case of planting our feet on the right path and following it to the end.
We would walk and climb and then rest and eat our lembas and drink sparingly of our precious water, and we would talk, a lot. Sam would make me chuckle with his stories of the Shire and his young friends. Of course, the Ring weighed heavily on me and sometimes I would find myself drifting off into a "dark time" and leaving Sam far behind. At these times I would be completely lost, there is no other way to describe the sensation of being of the world and yet outside of it. My heart would become like a heavy, pounding thing, a weight I would sooner be rid of than the band of gold that swung above it.
But Sam would bring me back to him, I would come to my senses and find him, my kind and faithful companion, watching me and even find his reassuringly strong hand on my shoulder. "Come on, old lad, "he would say, respectful and yet companionable, "take a rest now, Mr Frodo, and I will watch out".
Yet this morning, it was different. I was with Sam, walking, dragging my feet from one wretched, putrid patch of ground to the next, endeavouring to retain my good cheer, when I felt the pull of the Ring, stronger than ever. I had to sit for a moment and dear Sam helped me to a rock to rest. How long I sat I do not know. I do remember a softly billowing curtain falling over my eyes and the Ring singing softly, sweetly to me in that sultry, wanton way it had perfected. I do know that I fought it but succumbed as I had done before. Sam was by me, he would protect me and be there when the Ring had done with me, as he always had been.
But when I was me again, I found myself completely alone.
I felt drained and oh so weary, and Sam was not there. I felt his absence as strongly as if something vital had been ripped from my body, as if the very space that he should have occupied was in limbo awaiting his return.
"Sam", I called as I got shakily to my feet. I looked wildly about for him, my heart pounding in my chest and my voice pathetic and lost in that desolate landscape. Somewhere, at some stage during the dark time, I had shed my cloak and now I trembled with the cold.
Then I saw him, sitting on a rock some way away. I felt such relief I almost cried like a babe and stumbled to his side.
"Sam, " I pleaded, "why did you not answer me?"
"Are you rested now, Mr Frodo?" he replied, stiffly. I saw for the first time that Sam was hugging himself, He looked unkempt, his face flushed.
"What has happened, Sam?" I asked, my fear rising like gall in my throat.
"'Tis nothing" Sam replied and I saw in his eyes a wild mixture of fear and shame and something else, a thing surprised and immeasurably sad.
"Something has happened, Sam. Please tell me what it is so I can put it right, please don't let it lie between us like this" I pleaded.
Sam, oh Sam.
But he stood and left me, left me, and would not speak to me the rest of that long and wretched day.
Night has fallen and I am desolate. Sam is wrapped in his blanket and far removed from me. I must discover the truth of this but I am afraid of what I will find out. Only the comfort and friendship of this dear Hobbit has kept me on this road of ours, I cannot face it alone.
"Talk to me, Sam, please" I begin, and I lay a tentative hand on his arm. To my relief he lets it lie there.
"Mr. Frodo", he whispers, and then he chokes. Fat, wet tears slide down his face and puddle on his chin. I feel a strange urge to wipe them away but that would not be seemly. Seemly! How ridiculous it is to adhere to the strict master/servant etiquette here in this lamentable and evil place, when danger and even death stalk us constantly. Still, a lifetime of indoctrination is not an easy thing to cast into a fiery furnace along with a damnable ring.
"Talk to me, Sam", I say gently and I put my arms around his shoulders and allow him to sob into my shoulder. Now I do wipe away the tears from his face and look deep into those eyes, such kind and gentle eyes that I have never really appreciated until this moment.
"Mr Frodo, you hurt me" Sam sniffles into my coat. I feel a tightening in my chest and an icy sliver of evil, like to that remnant of the Morgul blade that had pierced me at Weathertop. My breath is shallow as I hold onto Sam. I need to hear what is to come but I dread it too.
"What did I do, Sam?" I ask, softly.
"You, you were yourself for a time, just lost in yourself like you get sometimes with that evil thing around your neck, that Ring! I thought I could just hold onto you like I always do and the evil would subside like, but it didn't Mr. Frodo, it didn't!"
My heart is cleaved in two by the words of my dear Sam, but I have to hear the rest.
"You came to, out of your trance and I felt relieved like I always do, and I thought I ought to sort you out a bit of a meal, you being so thin now and me worrying so much about you... but you pulled at me, you pulled me by the hair and you pushed me to the ground..."
The look on Sam's face is that of a bewildered child.
"Go on, Sam, please tell me the rest" I say and I am chastened to see the sad look in his eyes, as he tries to continue.
"You know, you must know, that I think of you as the kindest and best of folk, Mr. Frodo, the most book-learned and finest Hobbit in the Shire, even counting your dear Uncle Bilbo. But you hurt me, you kissed me, on the mouth, hard and long, and I was quite unable to stop you. I am much, much stronger than you in the normal way, but you were a thing possessed, I couldn't stop you."
There is a silence between us.
"I know it was the Ring, Mr. Frodo, I know you would never do something like that in the natural course of things, it would be the last thing you would do, but you wouldn't stop."
Bile now is in my throat and I would rip out my heart and cast it at his feet if only it would make him forget, so we could return to how it had been. I feel like the lowest form of life in this barren land, of any land.
I know, of course, the truth of the matter. That the Ring was merely subverting what was already there. In my mind, in my hidden mind, I covet Sam. I loath myself for it but at night I harbour such thoughts of Samwise Gamgee as would shock a Breelander.
"Sam", I say at last, "I am so very sorry. I need to know, did I do anything else?"
Sam stares at the ground and a change comes over him. He straightens his shoulders and seems to grow in stature before my very eyes.
"No, Mr Frodo" he says simply, and he stands before me, my strong and faithful Sam. He looks at me then, with an age of wisdom in his young eyes that I have never seen before. It is more than strength, more than loyalty, more than friendship. What I see then in Sam is unbearably pure love, the kind that can forbear judgement and forgive. I know now that I have indeed hurt him in ways I will probably never remember and in ways he would never tell. Knowing that my actions were born of the evil around my neck is no consolation, I am become unclean, but if my dear Sam can forgive me and continue on this road of ours, then so must I forgive myself, if only for the sake of the Quest.
The End