First and Last Chapter 13

Sam: Well I am *quite* satisfied with how that turned out.

H.G.: I bet you are.

Rosie: Considering that you had no idea where it was going, it went very well.

Frodo: But I don’t think any of us were surprised with how it turned out. *grins*

H.G.: Yes, Frodo and I will sit back and watch our ship take off.

Frodo: They are good together, aren’t they?

H.G.: Perfect together. Just like you and Sam are perfect as best friends and brothers and all.

Frodo: Indeed.

H.G.: So Rosie, want to give me some tips on how to get a boyfriend? A good one?

Rosie: Sorry, but there are no hobbit boys where you live.

H.G.: No, but there are human boys with hobbit souls, and I will not be satisfied with anything less.

~~~

Chapter Thirteen

Rosie

I lie in bed, smiling as I think about Sam. Odfrin waited at home for me, so he’s in a guest room on the other side of the hole. I’m not at all happy about that, but as long as he’s gone in the morning.

Odfrin didn’t come after me, of course. He’s too selfish to go out in the rain for something as unimportant as his fiancée. I’m glad, though. It means that there was nothing to keep me from reaching Sam.

We talked for a few more minutes after he agreed to elope with me at some point down the road, and then I decided I ought to get going, and he said he had to go back to Frodo. He kissed me goodnight, very gently, and then went to the door. I watched until it shut, and then went back to my pony, still grinning from ear to ear like a small child given a candy.

My door creaks open, and Mother comes in. I close my eyes and pretend to be asleep. She stands over me for a few moments, and then turns and leaves again. I open my eyes, but all I can see is Sam.

“I could talk to your parents,” says his voice in my mind, and I sigh. Dear Sam, thinking everyone is wonderful and reasonable like him. I love him so much. I’m just a tiny bit jealous of Frodo, who gets to spend all his time with Sam, but maybe we can meet in the future. I do like Frodo, and I’ve never grudged him the time of Sam’s that he takes, but, well, a girl can wish for more time with her beau if she wants.

I feel my eyes shut, and I give in. I need to sleep at some point.

Besides, it’s not as though I won’t see him in my dreams…

 

I’m awoken by a knock on my window. I roll over, blink a few times. The knock comes again. I look over and am shocked to see Frodo standing outside. I pull a blanket around my shoulders and open the window a crack.

“I am in my nightclothes,” I hiss.

“I know. I’m terribly sorry about this.” He smiles. “I won’t ask to come in -”

“You’d better not.” I push back my hair – I just know it’s a mess. “What time is it?”

“Just before dawn. Sam’s still asleep. I think. I got up two hours ago and rode here.”

“Won’t he notice you’re gone?”

Frodo considers. “No, I don’t think so.” He adds, as if to himself, “I usually only have one each night. And I already had it before I left.”

“Had… what?” I ask.

“A nightmare.” He straightens and smiles. “Anyway, don’t worry about that. I just wanted to tell you that Sam came back to bed and talked on and on about you.” He smiles fondly. “I couldn’t fall asleep for half an hour because he wouldn’t shut up. Not that I mind, of course. He loves you so much, Rosie.”

“He loves you just as much,” I say. “Maybe more. He refused to leave with me for your sake.”

A shadow crosses Frodo’s face. “What? Well, don’t let that stop you. Elope!”

“We’re going to. Just not until he’s found some way to keep both of us safe.”

Frodo frowns. “I’ll talk to him. With any luck, you’ll be married by the end of the week. Anyway, I’m just here to tell you that he’s coming over tonight to talk to your parents.”

“He is?” I ask, surprised. “How is he going to get them to invite him?”

“Oh, he’s not. He’s just going to walk in. Anyway, see you tonight.”

“You’re coming?”

“Of course I’m coming! I have to help Sam, don’t I?”

“Frodo,” I say firmly. “Does Sam know that he’s coming tonight?”

“Well, no, not yet, but I want him to. He needs to at least try.”

“Frodo…”

Frodo smiles. “If it fails, you can still elope, but if it succeeds, you can marry anyway. There’s nothing to lose.”

“Frodo, you can’t plan my and Sam’s life.”

“I was the one who made him dance with you seventeen years ago.”

“Well -” I sputter.

“And you wouldn’t have started courting if not for that.”

“We might – have-”

Frodo raises an eyebrow. “I’m right. Admit it.”

“Why are you doing this?” I ask. “Why are you trying to make everything work out for us?”

Frodo sighs and looks away. “Because I love Sam very much, Rosie,” he says. “I love him so much that sometimes I think I’ll forget how to breathe if I look at him for too long, or my heart will just explode from it all. I want him to be happy.” He looks back at me and grins. “And Eru knows you two are adorable together.”

I blush.

“So, you get your fiancée out of the way tonight, you get your parents into a good mood, and Sam and I will drop by between dinner and supper.”

“It’s not going to work.”

“No, but we have to try. And now if you’ll excuse me, if I’m not there when Sam wakes up, I’ll be in serious trouble. See you soon, Rosie.” Frodo closes the window for me and then creeps away.

I lie back down. Frodo loves Sam like mad. I can see it in his eyes. I can’t believe he’s going to do this for me – for Sam, for both of us. Surely he knows that if Sam and I are married, things will be different for them.

And yet he’ll give that up, so that Sam can be happy. What have I done for Sam? I love him, of course, and naturally in a different way than Frodo, but somehow…

Somehow, compared to Frodo’s, my love for Sam doesn’t seem to mean quite as much as it did only yesterday night.

 

First and Last Chapter Twelve

Sam: I am excited for this.

H.G.: Well, I’m not. I have NO plot for this chapter, so I’m basically winging it off of a couple ideas I’ve bounced around my head. Here goes.

~~~

Chapter Twelve

Sam

Rosie

Her dress somewhat rumpled, a little muddy, damp from the rain. Her hair is sprinkled with mist and droplets of water. She is turned away from me, but as I close the door behind me, she turns her head and my breath catches. She is as lovely as the last time I saw her.

“Hello, Sam,” she says softly.

“Hello, Rosie,” I whisper in reply.

She smiles a little and turns all the way, to face me. “It’s been… so long,” she says hesitantly.

“Yes.” I gulp. My mouth’s dry as sandpaper and there’s nought I can think of to say. “Over a year,” I get out.

“You’ve changed.” Her eyes scan me quickly. “You’re thin as a reed. And tanner.”

That’s what starving in hell does to you, I think, but I only say, “you… look the same as ever.”

“Really?”

“Well, no. You look older.” Sadder.

She smiles a little. “Well. I suppose we’re both older.”

The awkward conversation dies and we both stand there in silence. Then Rosie says, “Frodo told me Odfrin came.”

“Yes.”

“He’s awful, isn’t he?”

I nod, thinking of the disastrous talk with that horrible person. “He is. Terrible. But Frodo said you -”

“Hate him?” she finishes. “Yes. I never loved him, but my parents sure did.”

“So you …” I gulp again. “Didn’t… ever…”

“Stop loving you?” She takes a step closer. “No, Sam, I didn’t.”

Suddenly I’m up against the wall with one of her hands in my hair and the other on my shoulder, and her lips pressed firmly against mine. I wrap my arms around her and close my eyes. I can feel her tears on my cheeks, and her hand tightens until she might be pulling my hair out, but I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care…

Rosie tips her head back and we both stare at each other, gasping. My face fills with warmth and I know I’m blushing and crying all at once. “Sam,” she whispers.  Slowly, she leans against my shoulder and begins to cry softly. I slip one of my hands into hers and hold her to my side, gently, not desperately,  like how I kissed her. She looks up at me. A tear clings to her eyelashes. “They thought you were never coming back.”

“That’s what I thought, too.”

“But you came back.”

I laugh through my tears. “Yes.”

We’re silent for a moment, and then Rose lifts her head and steps away from me. “So what happens now?” she asks.

I lean back against the wall. “What do you mean?”

“Orcs in the Shire, me engaged to Odfrin Proudfoot. What are we going to do?”

I think for a moment. “I don’t know what to do about the orcs, but Odfrin… I could talk to your parents. Try to work things out.”

“I can’t see the good it will do.” Rosie ponders for a minute, and then her whole face brightens. “Sam!” She grabs my hands. “Let’s run away!” she says, breathless. “Let’s run away and elope! No one’s stopping us. We could go to Bree, we could -”

“I can’t,” I say instantly.

“Why not?” Rosie looks surprised.

“I can’t leave Frodo.”

“But you could leave me.”

“Rosie…” I trail off, run a hand through my hair. I try to think of something, anything, to say that can make her understand. I didn’t know this would happen, any of it, and suddenly I have a strong urge to crumple to my knees and cry, I feel so weighted. Somehow this feeling gives me the words I need, and they come spilling out. “When I left,” I say, “you were here, well looked after in what I knew was and thought always would be the safest place in the world. Frodo went into danger. And so I went with him. I never imagined the Shire would end up this way. I assumed I would leave you somewhere comfortable and happy, and come back soon.

“If I left with you now, I would leave him here, destroyed, broken, in a destroyed and broken world. And we wouldn’t be safe either, even in Bree. But it would kill Frodo to be left behind. And I love him far to much to do that to him.”

Rosie looks up at me. “You won’t leave with me.”

“No.” I stop, trail off, and then add, “But if we can figure something out, something more permanent, in a few moths, a way to stay here and protect him…”

“Yes?”

I smile. “Then I’ll go along with the second part of your plan.”

First and Last Chapter Ten

Sam: Waaaah….

Frodo: There, there.

Sam: It’s just so sad…

Frodo: Well, cheer up, H.G. has come to a decision.

Sam: *sniffle* what?

Frodo: She’s going to write a pre-quest fic.

Sam: Really? Good. I’ve decided any more torture would be too much.

H.G.: It will be very cute.

Frodo: Little baby us.

Sam: Well, little baby me, as you’re twelve years older.

H.G.: So cute!

~~~

Chapter Ten

Rosie

I look around the kitchen. The dishes are put away, the bread I baked is resting under a cheesecloth for tomorrow. I’m thinking maybe I should get some apple preserves from the cellar to go with it, but maybe I’ll end up being the only one eating them and it will be a waste of time.

The front door creaks on it’s hinge, and I hear my mother say, “why Odfrin, what a lovely surprise.”

I go to the cellar door. Looks like I’ll be getting those preserves after all.

“Rosie?” mother calls. “Mr. Proudfoot’s here to see you.”

“I’ll be up in a minute!” I call. Let him leave while I get the jar.

I come back up with the jar after a minute of dawdling, hoping he can’t stay long and will scram. However, when I come up the ladder again with the jar in hand, I can hear his voice still talking to mother.

“…so rude, sometimes,” he says.

“I agree. Lately she’s been very overbearing,” Mother murmurs.

I set the jar on the counter and begin to unscrew the lid very, very slowly. If I’m going to talk to Odfrin, first I need food to keep me sane. Just a little lick…

“You know, I am a bit worried, though,” Odfrin says. “Especially now that…”

“Now that they’re back,” Mother finishes. “Yes.”

I stop with one finger halfway in the jar. Someone’s back? Are the orcs are back in this part of the Shire, even after the Tooks drove them to Northfarthing? Quietly, I go to the doorway of the kitchen, press my back to the wall, and strain my ears.

“But the Silver Scale, of all places,” Odfrin says, and I’m very confused. “Doesn’t seem lordly enough for the likes of Frodo Baggins, does it?”

I’d forgotten I was still holding the jar, but I remember just in time to catch it before it crashes to the ground. I clutch it to my chest with trembling hands. Frodo Baggins is back. And when he left, he took my Sam with him.

So could that mean…?

“Ah, well,”says Mother. “At least that’s far enough from here that he shan’t get the urge to drop in for a visit.”

“Dear Mrs. Cotton. Judging from today, Frodo won’t let his pet out of his sight. Not that Sam would want to leave it.”

The jar crashes into a thousand pieces on the floor, but I am too far ahead for it to be any danger to my feet. I fly into the living room, and before the sound of the crash has faded, I have Odfrin up against the wall by the sides of his coat.

“How dare you not tell me!” I scream into his face.

“Rosie Cotton!” Mother exclaims. “That is not ladylike-”

“SHUT UP, MOTHER!” I roar. I turn back to Odfrin. “HE CAME BACK! I TOLD YOU! AND YOU DIDN’T TELL ME!”

“Release me,” Odfrin hisses calmly.

I let go and run to the door. Sam, Sam is here, in the Shire, so close to me, and nothing Odfrin does will stop me from going to him, from reaching him…

“You don’t want to do that,” Odfrin says.

I whip my head around. “No, I do, actually.”

“Run all those miles in the dark, when it’s all for nothing?”

“I’ll take a pony,” I say haughtily, grabbing my scarf. “And who says it’s for nothing?”

“I do. You see, I told him our little arrangement.”

I stop. “What?”

“Yes, you see, I met with him this morning and, shall we say, spilled the beans.”

I turn away and lean against the wall. “Knowing you, you said it horribly.”

“Well, wouldn’t you hate it if I disappointed you?” Odfrin asks cheerfully.

“You should have let me explain…”

“Why? It’s true. It’s true whether he hears it from me or from you.”

I close my eyes, a tear sliding out. Yes, it’s true, but if I had gone and let him explain, we could fix things. I should go, anyway. I should run to him and tell him everything, even if… even if he already hates me.

“It’s no good, even if you do go,” says Odfrin, as if reading my mind. “He was very upset. Blubbering like a little bairn, can you believe it?”

I whirl around. “He has every right to be upset!”

“And another thing,” Odfrin continues, ignoring me, “I don’t think he’s interested in you anymore. He’s staying at the inn with Frodo Baggins.”

“They’re friends!”

“Yes, but they’re odd. They’re always holding hands and kissing, it’s just so strange.”

“There are plenty of people who are affectionate with their friends,” I say coldly. “I hold hands with my friends, sometimes.”

He shrugs. “Do as you will. I find that relationships as intimate as theirs are strange and unnatural. But I shan’t complain.”

“I find that faces as ugly as yours are strange and unnatural, but do you see me complaining?”

Odfrin stares at me.

“Good evening,” I say, and with that I snatch my scarf and run to the stables while he’s still recovering.

 

Chapter Nine of First and Last

Warning: this chapter contains references death and suicide – nothing is attempted, just mentioned (not seriously) in a conversation. No one is actually considering doing it, but if you don’t like hearing about it in passing, you have been forewarned.

~~~

Chapter Nine

Sam

We’ve just gotten into bed when there’s a knock on the door.

“Mr. Gamgee,” I hear the innkeeper call. “May I have a word?”

Frodo lets go of me reluctantly. “Be quick,” he whispers.

I get up and go to the door and open it enough to look out. “Yes?”

“I hope I’m not bothering you,” he says. “You see, the company’s only just dispersed, so I couldn’t get away, but I was asked to bring a message to you.”

I start. “By who?” I was hoping no one would notice we’re here.

“He’s a gentleman by the name of Odfrin Proudfoot, maybe you know him?”

I shake my head.

“All the same, Mr. Proudfoot called me over after you left and said he couldn’t help but overhear Mr. Frodo’s conversation with me, and he told me to let you know that if you’ll meet with him tomorrow, he’d be happy to take the cost of another room, as he understand’s money is tight for everyone these days.”

“I’d be happy to meet with him, but we don’t need another room,” I say.

“He said you’d say that, but he really doesn’t mind -”

“It’s kind of him, but really,” I say firmly. “We don’t need another. When does he want me to meet with him?”

“Tomorrow around first breakfast in the common room,” says the innkeeper, “but I think it was to discuss renting and your paying him back.”

“Well, I can just tell him it’s not needed,” I say. “Thank you.”

I close the door and go back to Frodo, who looks up at me. “What was that about?” he mumbles drowsily, settling against me.

“Someone named Odfrin Proudfoot offering to get another room for us.”

“Hmm.”

“It’s strange, though,” I say. “We don’t know him, not at all, do we? It just seems odd that he’d offer it out of the blue because he overheard us. I’m supposed to meet with him tomorrow.”

No reply comes. Frodo is fast asleep.

 

I smooth the blanket over him and press a quick kiss onto his temple. “Try and go back to sleep.”

Frodo snorts, keeping his eyes closed. I brush back a lock of hair hanging over them.

“Just try,” I say softly. “I’ll be back soon. Love you.”

“You too,” he mumbles, pulling a pillow over his face. I smile and go out the door, closing it softly behind me.

“Mr. Proudfoot’s in the corner, sir,” says the innkeeper as I enter the common room. Someone calls to him – Boffin I hear them call him – and he goes away. I walk to the table he indicated and stand beside it. Mr. Proudfoot looks up at me and rises to greet me.

He has dark green eyes and brown hair, a square jaw with a long nose – a strange combination. Not that I’m particularly good-looking either, and yet I love the two most beautiful people in the world. He appears to be a little older than Frodo, and therefore much older than me.

“Samwise Gamgee,” he says. His voice is silky and soft. He extends a hand to me. “Odfrin Proudfoot. Such a shame we haven’t met sooner.”

I shake his hand. “Shame, indeed.”

“Do sit down.” He leans back. “I confess that, although you no doubt didn’t know me, I’ve seen you several times. You see, my father runs a shop in the market.”

“Which one?”

“He runs a cloth shop for the… upper class, so I’ve only seen you a few times when you were with your friend. Where is he, out of curiosity?”

“Sleeping, hopefully.”

“I see.” He smiles. “Do you perhaps recall what you were doing every time you visited the market together?”

“Um, shopping?” I ask, confused.

“Holding hands.” He smiles again, but it’s more like a leer. “And you’re quite sure you’re not going to take me up on my offer?”

“Quite sure.” I feel very uncomfortable all of the sudden, and hoping to wrap the meeting up soon, I say, “Well, is that it?”

“I’m afraid not.” Mr. Proudfoot smiles yet again – each smile seems more and more false. “I understand you’re close to Rosie Cotton.”

“Yes.”

“You would consider yourself her friend?”

We were more than friends. “You could say that.”

“Certainly you have her best interests at heart.”

“I think so.”

“You will be happy, then, to hear that she is engaged.”

…and I forget how to breathe.

Odfrin Proudfoot is still looking at me, but I can’t see him any more. I cannot move or breathe any more; my heart stops and my mouth dries up, and at first I’m not even sure why, because the words don’t sink in at first. And then…

Feelings return so strong I want to throw the table over and scream like a child. Engaged? To who?

Not to me.

She told me she’d wait for me…

“Sam?”

There’s a cool hand on my shoulder. Somehow I manage to turn around and see Frodo standing behind me, looking concerned.

“Mr. Baggins,” says Odfrin Proudfoot from a hundred miles away. “I thought you were resting.”

“I was,” says Frodo from behind me, “but then I decided to stop resting.” He cups my chin in his hand and turns my face towards him. “Sam? Is something wrong?”

I just look at him.

“Sam, what is it?” he asks softly.

“I…”

“Please,” says Mr. Proudfoot coldly.

Frodo turns to him. “Excuse me?”

He gives another simpering smile. “Oh, nothing, only that some of us may dislike watching unusual public displays of affection.”

Frodo looks from him to me, then back to him. “I beg your pardon?”

“I believe you understood me.”

Frodo draws himself up. “Listen, Odfrin Proudfoot. I have no idea who you are or what you’ve done to Sam, but something is wrong, and I don’t let people hurt my friends physically or emotionally. Do you understand me? And I’m afraid that any threats you may have given will not work, as my social standing is far superior to yours, whatever it may be. Are you done here?”

“Yes,” says Mr. Proudfoot coldly. “We are, unless your friend has anything else to say.”

I lift my head. “Who is it?” I manage to ask.

He grins, this time not trying to keep it friendly. “Why, me, of course.”

Frodo takes my hand and pulls. I allow him to lead me away from Odfrin, down the hall, and into our room. He throws me in, slams the door, and pulls me into a furious embrace.

“You’re crushing me,” I mumble.

“Sorry.” He loosens his grip on me and looks into my eyes. “Sam, what’s wrong? Won’t you tell me?”

I struggle not to cry.

“What did he tell you?” Frodo asks gently.

I gulp. “He-he asked all these questions about you… and then he said Rosie’s engaged – to him…”

Suddenly I’m in his arms again, and this time I don’t try not to cry. “Oh, Sam,” Frodo whispers, and it sounds as though he is crying to. “Oh Sam, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I love you…”

“I love you too,” I manage to say.

Frodo squeezes me tight again, holding on to me, not letting me go. I bury my face in his neck and close my eyes, trying to shut all this out. There are orcs in the Shire, Frodo has still not recovered from carrying the ring, and Rosie is marrying someone else. Everything is so horrible I can’t even believe this is really my life.

“I want to die,” I whisper.

“NO,” says Frodo firmly.

“But I can’t -”

He pulls back slightly and covers my lips with his hand. “Shush. If you died, I would kill myself.”

“No you wouldn’t,” I say dismissively.

“Yes I would,” says Frodo firmly. He kisses my forehead. “Yes, I would, Sam. I couldn’t bear to go on without you. But you are not going to die. You don’t even want to die. Do you?”

I shake my head slowly.

“Then why did you say it?”

“Because… it all felt like too much.”

“We’ll get through it, though. I promise. Okay?”

I manage to nod.

“Rosie’s gone,” says Frodo. “But I’m not. I’m here for you, and I always will be. I’ll stay with you all your life. I promise I will never leave you all alone. I love you, and I don’t want you to be in pain. Right now it hurts horribly, and right now you need to cry and suffer, but someday that will pass. Everything will be alright. It hurts now, but it will be alright. Isn’t that what you always tell me?”

“Yes?”

Frodo embraces me agin, gently. “Go ahead and cry.”

 

 

First and Last chapter Eight

H.G.: Hello hello!

Sam: H.G. will be going away to work at a summer camp pretty soon.

Frodo: So, she thought she would give you a chapter before that happens.

Sam: …which means we get to be tortured and she gets to go swim around in a pool surrounded by little seven year olds.

Frodo: Unfair.

H.G.: Chapter time! Come on, Frodo!

Frodo: *groan*

Sam: She can’t kill us yet, it’s too early.

Frodo: Hopefully.

~~~

“The best thing to hold onto in life is each other.” -Audrey Hepburn.

Chapter Eight

Frodo

Today we will reach the Shire.

It has been thirteen months since I’ve seen my home, and I’m ready to be back. I know I have a lot of healing left, but I am starting to believe that if I can settle down again, Sam will help me to get better, and maybe I won’t have to use Arwen’s gift.

I still haven’t told him about the gift. We never have secrets from each other, but for some reason, I don’t think I should let him know about this just yet.

“Frodo?” asks Pippin, pulling his pony up alongside mine. “What’s the first thing you’re going to do when we get back?”

“Read.”

“Of course,” Pippin sighs. “Merry, what about you?”

“Drink a barrel of beer.”

“I’m going to eat all the mushrooms in the Shire. What about you, Sam?”

Sam shrugs.

“We all know what Sam is going to do,” I say slyly, teasing my guardian.

“Oh, I bet I know, too.” says Pippin. “I bet he’s going to kiiiiiiiss someone.”

“I wonder who?” asks Merry, getting in on the joke.

Sam tries to ride away; I spur my pony and catch up to him. “Does it start with an ‘R’?” I ask.

“Does it end with an ‘e’?” asks Merry, coming up behind.

“Haven’t you used this joke before?” Sam groans.

“Roooossssiiiiiie?” We all ask.

“I hate you all.”

“Not nice.”

Sam says nothing.

“Oh, come on,” I say, laughing. “Sam, as your best friends, we have permission to tease you. It’s our Valar-given right.”

“But if I tease you, I’m called mean?”

“I can tease you, you can’t tease me.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s how it works.”

Sam sighs. “Frodo…”

I smile innocently. “Love you, Sam.”

We keep riding, Merry and Pippin chattering away about food and beer and more food. I have to agree with them. Food is something I’m in desperate need of. Sam and I lost a lot of weight in Mordor, far more than was healthy for us. And he probably lost even more than me, because he almost never ate.

People thought I was strange before. I was always small for a hobbit, what will they say now if they see me like this? Frail. The word comes to my mind. Unfortunately it is completely true.

“Look!” says Pippin.

I look up. “What?”

“It’s the Brandywine Bridge! But there’s a gate there now.”

Sure enough, on the other side of the Brandywine is a large wooden gate with a hobbit wearing a short sword standing outside.

“Hullo!” calls Merry cheerfully, as we all dismount. “What’s all this for?”

The hobbit looks up. “Why, Meriadoc!” he exclaims. “We thought you were dead!” He scans our faces. “And Peregrine Took, and Samwise Gamgee, and Mr. Baggins? They gave up the search for you months ago.”

“Well, we’re very much alive,” says Pippin, “and we should like to come in, if that’s alright with you.”

He bows. “Of course, sir, but I’m afraid the Shire’s not the same as when you left it.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“Well Mr. Baggins, just that there’s been an invasion and we’re not free no more. The ruffians’ve taken over.”

“Ruffians?” asks Sam, at the same time that Merry asks, “invasion?”

“Some big men came from who knows where and some hobbits with them. They’re under orders from some boss named Sharkey, and they’ve taken charge of things here. What’s more, they have some monsters with them, and they use those to keep us all in line. If you don’t listen to ’em you’re locked up.”

“What monsters?” Sam demands.

“Goblins some call ’em, but goblins they sure ain’t if you understand my meaning. They’s bigger than nary a goblin I’ve ever heard of, and they’re meaner. Ugly faces they have, the sort that makes the children cry, and big arms too. Some are bowlegged and all are bad as Sharkey himself.”

“Orcs,” I whisper.

“Orcs,” the hobbit repeats. “Maybe that’s the name. Anyways, Mr. Frodo, and you, Mr. Gamgee, you’ll not be able to go up to Hobbiton.”

“Why not?” I ask.

“Because they’ve dug up Bagshot Row, sir, and they’re using Bag End as Sharkey’s base.”

I look over at Sam, who seems to be having trouble breathing. We’re homeless now. Both of us. Since I sold Bag End to Lobelia Sackville-Baggins, the plan was for me to stay with him until we could arrange to get to Crickhollow. Could we go there now?

“What of Crickhollow?” I ask.

“Leveled to the ground and used as a lumberyard,” he replies sadly. “But maybe you cold find lodging at The Silver Scale. It’s an inn not but a few minutes from here on foot.”

Sam pulls me aside. “What are we going to do?” he asks. “We can’t go somewhere where there’s to be talk of our return, like an inn we don’t know.”

“But we can’t go to the West Farthing and try for the Green Dragon or the Ivy Bush. It’s too far and even less safe.”

Sam runs his hand through his hair, and I see just how unhealthy he looks. Thin, tired, dirty from the travel. Surely he looked worse in Mordor, but I was so blinded by pain that I didn’t even notice. I stand on my toes and kiss his cheek.

“Let’s just try it,” I say. “The Silver Scale. For one night.”

“Alright.”

Merry and Pippin join us. “Have you made a decision?” asks Merry.

“We’re going to try the Silver Scale for a night and see what we think.”

“Well, we’re going to Brandy Hall,” says Pippin.

“Leaving? Now?”

“It’s the safest place for us,” says Merry. “It’s my home.” He grabs my arm. “Come with us.”

Maybe Brandy Hall is Merry’s home, but although I lived there for several years, it has never been home to me. I was there after my parents’ deaths, with no friends except baby Merry, until Bilbo took  me in and I came to know Sam. And if there is a single group of hobbits that can be counted on for gossip, it’s the Brandybucks.

“I don’t think so,” I say. “At least, not yet.”

“Sam, what about you?” asks Pippin. “What are you doing?”

“My place is right here,” says Sam. “With Frodo.”

Pippin nods. “Okay. Take care of him for us.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” I ask as we ride through the gate. “That I can’t take care of myself?”

Pippin smiles. “Well… this is where we leave you.”

I nod. “Be careful, you two. And if there’s nothing there, or it’s not safe, come straight to the inn.”

“We will,” Merry promises. “You… stay safe.” They turn and ride away. I watch until they are lost from view.

“I’m worried for them, Sam,” I say softly. Sam says nothing.

 

We reach the inn as sunset begins to spread over the sky. I dismount and tie my pony up in the stable, then wait for Sam to do the same before going in. The Silver Scale is somewhat crowded by guests having a meal. My stomach rumbles as I realize I haven’t eaten since the luncheon we stopped for on the road. I go up to the counter. “Excuse me?”

The innkeeper turns and smiles. And then the smile falls off of his face. “Mr. Baggins!” he exclaims with a cry. “We thought you were dead! And Samwise Gamgee too! I must inform the company.”

“Oh no, please!” I cry quickly. “I’d… rather not, yet. We’re looking for lodgings.”

The innkeeper smiles knowingly. “I see, sir. Well, the prices are much lower than before the invasion, so I think I can accommodate you. Shall we say, four copper pennies?”

“For one room?” I say, amazed. That’s cheaper than anything I’ve ever seen in the Shire.

“For two rooms.”

I must look ridiculous – my mouth is probably hanging open. I was worried we wouldn’t have enough money to survive on – all we have is what we were given in Gondor, and I’ve already spent some of it. Even sharing our money as we have silently agreed to, I was nervous. Two pennies a room. We could both eat nine meals a day for a week and still have money left over at that price.

“We’ll take one room,” I say. “And maybe a meal?”

“One room?”

“Yes.”

“For both of you?”

“Yes.”

“Each room only has one bed and one dresser.”

“I know.”

The innkeeper frowns, probably because he was hoping to make more money if we both got a room. “Very well. I’ll show you to your room.”

He leads us down a hallway to a small room with a red, round door. Inside is a medium-sized bed with a brown quilt and a small bathroom to the side. Simple, but functional. We’ll be happy here. Or we would be if it weren’t for the fact that there are orcs in the Shire.

“Thank you,” I say, handing over the money. “We’ll come to the common room for dinner soon.”

He leaves and closes the door. I look over at Sam. “Well, it’s nice enough,” he says, trying to seem cheerful.

“There are orcs. Here,” I say, and then I’m finding it hard to breathe because this is all surreal and nightmarish, and I don’t want to cry. Sam opens up his arms to me, and I go right into them, burying my face in his shirt and closing my eyes. I don’t want to think of anything and for once I don’t have to. I’m safe now. I breathe in deeply of Sam’s light scent of earth and trees and rain. So soothing. So warm. My Sam.

“It’s going to be alright, isn’t it?” I ask, not wanting an answer.

Sam kisses my forehead gently. We are silent.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

First and Last Chapter Six

I haven’t updated in a MONTH? Seriously? What is my issue?? Well, it’s Sam’s turn now, so onwards we go.

~~~

Chapter Six

Sam

It’s a long way to the Shire, but somehow, this journey seems faster than the last one. Only, that time we were walking away from the Shire and into danger, and this time we’re riding towards it, in peace.

Lady Galadriel and Lord Elrond are journeying with us until we reach Lorien and Rivendell. They have white elvish horses and a grey tent, which makes Frodo, Merry, Pippin, and I look rather silly, considering that we ride ponies and sleep in the back of the wagon. But we like it that way, so it’s alright.

The only thing not alright about all this is Frodo. He smiles, and acts the same as ever, but I can just tell there’s something he’s keeping from me. This is odd, because we never have any secrets – but I don’t ask. If he wants to tell me, I know he will.

 

I glare down at Merry, Pippin, and Frodo, sitting in the back of the wagon smiling innocently at me. “Alright, confess. Which one of you stole my blanket?”

“I didn’t!” Merry says.

“Me neither!” Pippin insists.

I look at Frodo, who giggles. I hold out a hand. “Give it back.”

“I didn’t take it, honest.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I really didn’t take it.”

“Give it back or you lose breakfast privileges for a week.”

Frodo looks shocked. “But, the last time I had to cook -”

“You got food poisoning,” I finish. “I know.”

“Why can’t we all just share?” Pippin asks. “I mean, we share the blankets every other night, why not tonight?”

“Because I think you’ve done something bad to it.” I glare at Frodo. “Where is it, and what did you do to it?”

“I didn’t take it, honestly.”

“Tell me or…” I think. “No hugs until we get back to the Shire. For any of you. And no kisses, either. AND no breakfast.”

Merry and Pippin gasp.

“But, Sam! You can’t do that!”

“Watch me.”

Frodo gets up slowly. “Sam… you have to understand… It was an accident.”

“You accidentally stole a blanket? What did you do, use it to wash the dishes?”

“N-no… I was getting the wagon set up for bed and I walked past my pony and… and…” He buries his face in his hands. “The pony ate the blanket,” he whispers. “He just grabbed it with his teeth -”

“You fed my blanket to a horse?!?”

“I’m really sorry!”

“That’s it. No hugs and kisses for you.” I go and snatch an extra blanket from the wagon. “I will be sleeping on the ground tonight.” I turn away to hide my smile. I don’t care about the blanket, but teasing Frodo is so fun – especially because he thinks I’m serious.

“But – don’t you want to sleep in the wagon with us?” Merry pleads.

“You’ll be cold on the hard ground!” Pippin says.

I glance over my shoulder. “I would rather be cold than next to people who were so cruel. That was my last blanket from the Shire.”

“I’ll buy you a new one!” Frodo begs, grabbing my arm. “A better one!”

“No dear, I’m afraid you don’t understand,” I say, nudging his hand off my arm. “I had to save up for days to buy that blanket. It was the profit of hard labor.”

“I’m sorry!!! Please don’t punish me!”

“For this there can be no forgiveness.”

Frodo actually looks like he might cry. He goes and sits down in the wagon with Merry and Pippin, and they hug him tight.

“Sam, look, you made him cry,” says Merry. “Is that any way to treat your best friend?”

“My best friend betrayed me.”

Frodo sobs and buries his face in Merry’s shoulder. Merry hugs him for a while, glaring at me, while Pippin pats Frodo’s back.

“There, there,” he says. “It’s okay. We love you even if Sam doesn’t.”

“I never said I didn’t love him!”

“Go to sleep, Frodo,” Merry soothes, lying Frodo down in the wagon and tucking him in. They curl up in their own blankets. “Maybe Sam will play nice in the morning.”

I sigh, go to the wagon, and sit down next to Frodo. He looks up at me.

“Silly, I don’t care about the blanket,” I say.

He punches me, laughing. “You are so mean!” He snuggles close to me, and I wrap my arms around him. “Mmm, you’re warm.” He sighs, then glances up. “I hate you, you know that?”

“I know,” I say. “Go to sleep.”

“Why did you do that?” asks Pippin, glaring at me.

“Because it was funny.”

“Not really,” says Merry drily. He looks up at the sky. “We’ll be back in the Shire in two months, did you know that?”

“I can’t wait,” Frodo mumbles sleepily. “Night, everyone. Love you.”

“Love you, too.” I kiss the top of his head.

Two months, and we’ll be home.

Chapter Four of First and Last

Sam: WHERE IN THE WORLD HAVE YOU BEEN, H.G.?

Frodo: Leaving us weeping in each other’s arms, abandoned by you, forsaken…

H.G.: I didn’t *quite* do that…

Sam: *smoulder*

H.G.: I’m a published author now! I have things I need to be doing, you know.

Frodo: *glares*

Rosie: Eh he he… so, shall I start?

Sam: Go ahead. We’re really annoyed at H.G.

H.G.: *sniffle*

Rosie: *hugs H.G.* There, there… cheer up, we get to meet a new character today, right?

~~~

Chapter Four

Rosie

“It’s dangerous to go alone at night.”

I don’t turn around. He has followed me so many times. I’d like to go and punch him hard and then leave  him lying in the gutter. I may look sweet, but most boys around here know not to get on the bad side of Rosie Cotton. I was raised on a farm, so I’m strong. I can carry bags of flour twice my body weight. I can certainly throw a punch at a nagging suitor. “Don’t mess with her,” Sam would say if he were here. “She may be the prettiest thing under the sun, but my Rose has her thorns.”

“I said it’s dangerous.”

“Heard you.”

I hear soft laughter.

“That wasn’t meant as a joke,” I say, annoyed. I keep walking, quickening my pace. “I can outrun you, you know.”

“Rosie, it’s midnight, and you’re by yourself for the fiftieth night in a row.”

“Forty-seventh.”

A long pause. Then, “So you’ve been keeping track?”

I nod. “Yes, I have.” I stalk up the silent streets to Bag End, to Sam’s garden,  the garden I decided to work on forty-seven days ago, when They arrived. The garden I started working on so that the beauty wouldn’t die. So I could hold onto something, anything, anything to do with him, and home. This is not my home anymore.

“Well, let me protect you.”

I stop, tilt my head back, and throw out a loud laugh. “I don’t need your protection, Odfrin Proudfoot.”

“Don’t do that so that loudly!”

I look over my shoulder. “Why? What are you protecting me from?”

He shrugs. “Hungry orc?”

“They aren’t supposed to come to these parts.”

“No. They aren’t supposed to.

I stop. We’ve reached Bag End. I kneel down and dig the trowel I’m holding into the hard earth. If I don’t get this weed out tonight, I’ll have to resort to fire. Mr. Weed and I have been fighting for a week. “Cure you,” I think as I glare at the weed. “Couldn’t you have taken root anywhere but the cereus bed?”

Sam loves cereus flowers. He loves every flower, but those are on his favorites list (of which I am at the top.) I asked him why, and he just shrugged and said, “They make me think of Frodo.”

“He isn’t coming back,” says Odfrin, as though he can hear my thoughts. Scary.

“Sam is coming back soon, very soon. I would feel it if he was dead.” I pull on the weed. I’ve almost got it. If I can just move a rock, maybe I can dig it up.

“What? You think he’ll be back tomorrow? Or, back in time to see those cereus bloom? Give up. He’s not coming back.”

“He is not dead.”

Odfrin goes very quiet. I’m grateful, but surprised. I start working away at the rock, trying to shift it out from under the weed and up from the soil. Finally he speaks again. “I wasn’t implying that he was dead.”

This actually stops me in my tracks. I get up, shake off the dirt, tun around, and plant my hands on my hips, still clutching the trowel. “Oh?”

He nods.

“What were you saying?”

“Well, maybe he’s run off.”

“With?”

“Someone else.”

I get right up in his face. “Such as who exactly, Odfrin Proudfoot? Who could make my Sam leave me?”

“Dunno,” says Odfrin, and then adds under his breath, still loud enough for me to hear, “but he did leave to go off somewhere with Frodo Bag-”

I smack him hard across the face with my trowel. He cries out, and covers the wound with his hand. I grab him by the scruff of his neck, yank him close, and growl into his face, “you – are – sick.” I turn him around and send him alway down the road with a kick between the shoulder blades. “Get out of my sight.” I slam the gate shut and turn back to the weed.

It makes my skin crawl. The very suggestion that Sam and Frodo… I know they aren’t like that! But the suggestion gives me another reason to hate Odfrin Proudfoot, so I leave it be.

I turn back to the cereus that Sam loves so much. “They make me think of Frodo.” 

“Why?” I asked

“Because they bloom when no one is watching except me. And they’re so beautiful they almost glow in the dark.”

Wherever he is, I hope Frodo is with him.

 

Part Three in the “Land of Shadows” saga: First and Last.

Hello, all! Yes, I am now going to start part three to celebrate publishing my book. Since it would be a pain to scroll down the whole way through the LoS and THATH page, I will first post chapters in a post, like this here, and then add it to the page afterwards if you wish to read it again. Here we are with chapter one!!! The hobbits are rather pessimisstic…

Sam: Goodbye, Frodo.

Frodo: Goodbye, Sam. Living was nice.

Sam: I love you.

Frodo: I love you, too. *prepares for death*

Okay, THAT’S a little dramatic. But anyway… to the chapter!

~~~

Chapter One

Rosie

Sam, where are you?

The garden you took such good care of is gone. It’s all shriveled and empty. And all the grass of the fields has withered away. We almost never go outside anymore because all of us are too afraid. Too afraid of what They will do to us.

You promised me you’d come home. After you finished your job, after you helped Mr. Frodo do his job, you said. You said then you would come back to me. I’ve been waiting for you since spring came, because I couldn’t believe that you would miss the garden’s blooming. But you have, and you’ve missed much worse things. Everybody tells me you’re dead. Give up and stop hoping. But that’s not like me, Sam. And I need to keep hoping because I cannot imagine a permanent life without you – this is only temporary, right?

I know you love him, but don’t you love me too?

Everyone thinks I am mad – everyone who dares to leave their home and come to mine, that is. I haven’t left home in a long time.

Marigold and I have tried to fix your garden. The one you tended in Bag End is almost completely gone, but the one you planted by your home, that’s at least alive. We saw to that. Even your brothers are concerned for you. But they aren’t your only brothers, are they?

Wherever you are – in this world, you have to be alive – I hope he’s with you. Maybe you’re asleep right now. Maybe he’s curled up in your arms for comfort. You said his mission would be dark. I hope you can be his light, as you are so many other people’s.

Won’t you come back to me and be my light?

Sam, where are you?

The Ninth Day of Fanfic

(Finally! LotR!!! Oh, and, their winter holiday is called Yule, not Christmas, so don’t be thrown off. PS, no slash. Unfortunately, I always feel like I have to put that notice in… groan.)

Soooooo…

On the ninth day of fanfic my H.G. gave to me… nine guys a-walking!

Eight “chefs” a-cooking!

Seven jedi dudes!

Six knights a training…

FIVE JARS OF RUM!!!

Four kids and Aslan!

Three wizard ships.

Two-oo festive daleks

and the Everdeen’s Christmas tree!

~~~

Boromir woke up and looked about him as Aragorn nudged him awake for watch. “It’s snowing,” he said, sitting up and rubbing his head.

“Of course,” said Aragorn. “We are on the foot of Caradhras. It’s always cold here.” He lay down. “Now take your watch with Gimli.”

Boromir looked over at the dwarf, who had snowflakes in his beard and an awed looked on his face.

“I take it you have never seen snow before,” said Boromir with a smile.

“Nay!” Gimli looked around. “I have, but never this much… and not in many a long year.”

They settled down to keep watch till the morning.

 

Legolas woke up as he heard the watchers talking “It’s snowing,” he muttered drowsily, and then he crashed back down onto his pillow and fell asleep again.

 

Gandalf lay awake, watching the snowflakes drift down to settle in his bushy hair, beard and eyebrows. He smiled a little, knowing the hobbits would be delighted. Then he frowned as he thought of how hard the journey would grow. Before he could reflect much on that however, he fell asleep again.

 

Merry opened his eyes to see a million snowflakes drifting to the ground. He gave a little gasp. “So much snow…” he murmured. He looked all about to see that he and the other hobbits had become buried in a nest of fluffy white.

“Pip, wake up!” said Merry, shaking his shoulder. Pippin gave a little yawn and turned over.

“I’m tired, Mer-Mer…” he groaned.

Merry half-lifted him. “Wake up, Pip!”

Pippin slumped into sleep again, his head dropped down, settling against Merry’s stomach. Merry pushed him off. “Please?”

“Why?” Pippin asked, yawning sweetly.

“Because there’s snow.”

The lad opened one sleepy eye. “I don’t -” He paused. “There’s… snow?!”

“It’s snowing,” Merry said. He flung his arms through the clouds of white. “It’s SNOWING!”

“Can you keep it down?” asked Sam drowsily from his place beside his master. “You’ll wake Frodo up.”

“But it’s snow, Sam!” Pippin gathered a handful, walked to the gardener, and sprinkled it into his red-gold curls. “It’s snow! I didn’t know there was this much snow in the entire world! Yaaaaaaaaay!” He flung a handful high into the air. “Wake Frodo up! He has to play with me!”

 

Frodo lay drowning in troubled dreams. Amidst the darkness of nightmares, he felt a loving voice gently coaxing him out. “Fro-do,” the voice sing-songed. He felt a soft kiss on his forehead and opened his eyes. Sam smiled at him and smoothed his hair. “Hello.”

“Hello… is that snow?!” Frodo sat bolt upright only to receive a snowball in the face.

“Gotcha!” shouted Pippin. Sam laughed. Frodo shot him an angry glare through a face full of snow, which only made Sam laugh harder.

“Is there any purpose in this watch?” called Boromir with a groan.

“Well, the sun is up, so no,” said Pippin, pelting him with a snowball, too. “And guess what today is?”

“What?” Frodo complained, wiping his eyes on his cloak.

“First Yule! Which means we get a feast!” Pippin danced happily about the camp, smacking everyone with snowballs. “A feast! And festivity! So we get to have fun all day! And eat snacks and have snowball fights and just be HAPPY!” He smacked Gandalf with three snowballs and then ran to hide behind Merry.

Frodo groaned and flopped down into Sam’s lap. “I’m going to be dead by the end of tomorrow.”

“Why?” Sam asked.

“Pippin will exhaust me until I drop down dead.”

Sam laughed again.

“We do not get a feast,” said Aragorn, standing up and buckling on his sword. “We have enough rations to get us to Mordor.”

“But we can go hunting, right?” said Pippin. “To get food for our feast?”

“Yes,” said Legolas quickly, before Pippin could get too upset.

“No,” said Aragorn. “There is no food to be found atop this mountain.”

“But when we arrive at a settlement, surely we can get more food to make up for the rations we eat today,” Legolas said, because Pippin was sitting down looking heartbroken.

“Perhaps,” said Aragorn. “But if we do not arrive at a settlement?”

“Can I have a word with you?” Legolas asked, dragging Aragorn behind a tree.

“Today is Yule,” said Pippin. “It’s special. We don’t even  have to have second Yule. Can’t we just have this one?”

“My dear young Took,” said Gandalf, shaking his head. “Of our nine members, four are hobbits. Hobbits alone celebrate Yule.”

Pippin’s face fell. Gandalf came over and ruffled his hair. “I see you are disappointed, but we simply cannot delay.”

“Can’t we have Yule while we walk, then?” asked Pippin sadly.

Gandalf smiled. “We shall see.” He headed off to pack up the camp.

Pippin sighed and snuggled up against Merry’s shoulder. “I really hope we can have Yule, Mer-Mer.”

“I hope so too, Pip.” Merry ruffled the lad’s hair.

 

Meanwhile, Legolas was glaring at Aragorn. “That boy is far to young to be on this quest in the first place. Shouldn’t we at least let him have fun this once?”

“Fun? A quest is not fun, Legolas. A quest is dangerous. We have to worry about our lives more than our entertainment.”

“But Pippin shouldn’t have to,” Legolas pressed.

“Then Pippin shouldn’t be here!” Aragorn said, swiping a hand through the air angrily. “And neither should Merry. Even Sam would be better off elsewhere. They are too young. This is not safe for them.”

“But they want to stay with Frodo,” said Legolas. “They love him.” He laid a hang on his friend’s shoulder. “I know you do, too.”

“We all love Frodo,” Aragorn said. He turned around. “And that is why we must protect him. Wasting our rations and delaying the journey could be harmful.”

“But think of how happy it would make him, to see Pippin and Merry just being the young children they are, rather than the war heroes everyone is expecting them to be.”

Aragorn thought. “You’re right,” he admitted finally. “I’m being overbearing. I -”

Legolas held up a hand to stop him. “Just go tell them.”

 

Frodo looked up from the drawings he was making in the snow. “Strider?” he said as Aragorn knelt beside them.

“Can we have Yule?” asked Pippin, clasping his hands and crossing his fingers.

“Well.” Strider ran a hand through his hair. “Yes, but – ”

“Oh thank you, Strider!” Pippin hopped up and hugged him around the neck. “Thank you thank you thank you!”

Aragorn hesitated before hugging him back.

“But only if you agree that we can still walk.”

“Oh, of course!” chirped Merry. “But, can we have a feast?”

“Yes, but a small feast.”

“Yaaaaaaaay!” Pippin and Merry danced around the camp while Pippin chattered excitedly. “This will be the best Yule ever! Gimli, guess what? We get to have Yule and a snowball fight while we walk.”

“I thought that there was a snowball fight this morning, lad,” said Gimli, arching an eyebrow.

“Oh, no. That was just me hitting you. This time you fight back.” Pippin giggled. They both dashed over to Boromir. “Boromir! Boromir!” Pippin said.

“Yes, little one?” asked Boromir, ruffling the boy’s hair.

“We get to have Yule!” said Merry happily.

“Great!” Boromir smiled. “Um, what’s Yule?”

Frodo groaned. “Boromir, please don’t ask them that…”

 

So, the Fellowship headed out. Pippin and Merry wove in and out of the crowd throwing snowballs. Boromir grabbed a handful of snow and threw it back at them. “Retaliation!”

“Nooo!” said Pippin. “Gandalf! I’m going to get you!”

“Oh are you, my lad?” Gandalf waved his staff. “Ninim! Revio!”

“Eeek!” Pippin squealed as enormous snowballs began to form themselves and fly at him. “Take cover!” He ran and hid under Frodo’s cloak. Frodo wrapped an arm around him.

“Ha! I am safe here!” Pippin cheered. “Boromir, vanquish the snowballs!”

Boromir took out his sword and cut the snowballs into pieces as they flew past.

Frodo let Pippin out from his cloak. “All safe,” he said.

And then a snowball hit him on the back of the head.

Frodo whirled around. “Sam! Traitor, how could you?!”

Sam grinned, shaping another snowball. “Sorry.”

“You’d better be sorry!” Frodo flew at Sam and tackled him to the ground, pinning him down. “I should bury you in all this snow for that!”

“For hitting you with a snowball?”

“Yes!” Frodo said indignantly. “I thought I could trust you! I thought you would protect me from all evils! And now you’re attacking me.” He pouted.

“Oh, come on,” Sam said. “That is so fake.”

Frodo smacked him.

“Ow!”

“I am going to get you for this, Samwise Gamgee.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes. I have you pinned,” Frodo said, grabbing Sam by the arms. In an instant, Sam had a grip on Frodo’s wrists, and he rolled him over.

“Who’s got who pinned now?” he teased, brushing a quick kiss on the top of Frodo’s head. Frodo giggled. “Looks like I’ve… got… you…”

“Stop! I have to extract my revenge… Sam, stop it! Let me go!” He broke off, laughing too hard, as Sam stubbornly gripped his wrists tighter.

“Incoming!” shouted Merry, throwing himself onto Sam and Frodo. Pippin joined the pile. “Death by hugs!” he said, wrapping his arms tightly around his cousin.

“Should we be trying to stop that?” asked Boromir, nudging his head at the hobbits, who were now trying to knock each other off the pile with snowballs and flailing arms.

“Oh, let them have their fun,” said Legolas, who was walking on top of the snow. “It’s Yule, after all.”

“I still don’t understand what Yule is,” Boromir huffed.

“Really? I rather like it,” said Gimli. He threw a snowball at Legolas and then dashed ahead while the elf screamed, raking wet crystals from his hair.

 

That night, they ate a double portion of rations, the four hobbits all leaning on each other, as they munched their food and told stories of Yule, winters, feasts, and snow fights. Aragorn even pitched in with a story of Lord Elrond tripping in a snowdrift and landing face down, legs sticking out of the drift and kicking until his was rescued. This made Pippin laugh so hard that he spit the soup Sam had cooked all over Gandalf’s face. Rather than being angry, the wizard used a spell to clean himself, and then another to levitate a snowing cloud above the tween’s head.

Finally they all went to bed, the four hobbit nestling together under all four of their blankets, Gandalf staying up to watch with a lit pipe, and the others flopping about on the ground.

“I’ll still get my revenge,” Frodo whispered to Sam across Merry’s head.

Sam smiled. “I should really never hit you with snowballs, eh? Be keeping that in mind.”

Frodo smiled back. Sam ran a hand down his cheek. “So, did you have fun?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Sam leaned over Merry’s sleeping form to kiss Frodo on the brow. “Sleep well.”

“You, too.”

They reached their hands over the other two lad’s sleeping forms, and their fingers met and clasped.  It had been a wonderful Yule.

Mirkwood Beauty Products

Hello everyone! Well, I’ve steered clear of LotR for a while (otherwise I’d go rambling on and on about it forever) so I thought perhaps today that cycle could end, and we’ll do an LotR story. This is a humorous fan fiction. I managed to not turn the whole thing into hobbits (who, you may have noticed, I am slightly obsessed with) although they do have a cameo. No, this is a mockery of the character everyone loves but me: Legolas! In this story, Gimli and Boromir discover Legolas’s shampoo… and various bad things happen. Peace, fluff, and nonsense. Read and review!

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Mirkwood Beauty Products

Boromir shifted restlessly in his blanket. He could not sleep. The ground was hard, and the hobbits were still awake, giggling and chattering beneath their blankets. For the fourth time, he heard Aragorn tell them to stop talking and go to bed. They quieted for a second, then Boromir heard Sam whisper something to Frodo, and Frodo giggled and gave a quiet response. Pippin and Merry joined the conversation, and soon all four were whispering again.
Boromir groaned, threw off his blanket, and marched over. “Do I need to separate you four?” he asked.
Merry gasped. Sam threw his arms around Frodo.
“Then quiet down.” Boromir went back to his blanket and listened to the hobbits whisper for a second about how mean he was, then kiss one another goodnight and drift one by one to sleep.
He sighed. “Peace at last,” he muttered, fluffing his pillow and falling asleep.

He was awakened several hours later by a foot prodding him. He blinked and opened his eyes to see Gimli waving him up.
“Is it my turn for watch?” asked Boromir.
“Yes, but come on! There’s something I must show you!”
Groggily, Boromir followed Gimli to his sleeping place. “What’s going on?” he asked.
“Shh!” Gimli glanced around. and then, content that no one had woke up, he said, “alright. You’re never going to believe me, but I was rifling in Legolas’ bag a minute ago -”
“Why?”
“Because the hair tie I was using for my beard broke, and I went to borrow one. Anyway… I pulled something aside and I found something very interesting… something we’ve always wanted to see… Take a guess.”
“No,” Boromir breathed.
“Yes.” Gimli pulled out a bottle. “Mirkwood Non-Frizz Tea Tree Shampoo.”
Boromir stared at the label, dumbfounded.
“And that’s not all.” Gimli pulled out more jars and bottle, reading each as he drew them forth. “Mirkwood Non-Frizz Tea Tree Conditioner. Mirkwood Lemon-Infused Facial Scrub. Mirkwood Ultra-Soft Peony Lotion. Oh, this is good,” he said, taking out a wooden box. “Mirkwood Manicure Kit. Includes nail file, cuticle repairer, buffing block, and clear nail polish.”
Boromir laughed. “Should we dump it in the river?”
Gimli wiggled his eyebrows. “No, I’ve a better idea.” He took out another jar. “Dwarvish Beard-Thickening Ointment. And this one here… fake orcs blood, to smear on your face. Makes an impression after battle. Legolas will never suspect it….”

They all awoke the next morning to the sounds of Legolas’ screams, high-pitched and guttural. Boromir sat up and looked over at the elf. Legolas was crying, his hair a frizzy mess of blond tangles, his face streaked with black marks. “What happened to my shampoo?” he sobbed. “And my lotion…?!” He burst into tears again.
“Oh, Legolas,” Aragorn said sympathetically. “It’s probably past the expiration date. Products aren’t safe if you use them too late.”
Merry covered Pippin’s eyes as the Took eagerly sat up. “No, Pippin, you can’t look. It will give you nightmares.”
Legolas burst into fresh tears.
Boromir snuck a glance at Gimli. The dwarf was smiling from ear to ear, although he hid it well in his bushy beard.
“Gandalf, can you magic my hair back to normal?” Legolas sobbed.
“I’m sorry… no spell can undo such a mess.”
“We must be off,” Aragorn said, belting on his sword. “The orcs shall soon be upon us.”
Bill the pony tried to chew Legolas’ hair. Sam coaxed him away while Legolas screamed.

And that was how Legolas went for five days with horrible hair.