Samwise Gamgee (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
uluithiad) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
dysproslogs2013-05-20 11:19 pm
uluithiad) wrote in dysproslogs2013-05-20 11:19 pm
Entry tags:
now far ahead, the road has gone
Who: Sam Gamgee (his_gardner) and Frodo Baggins (wheeloffire)
What: Liangyu's Request, talking, apple-eating.
When: Whenever Liangyu's Request actually takes place.
Where: Somewhere in Tinwick.
Rating: E for everyone or whatever.
Never would Sam have expected that speaking to Frodo would not come naturally.
It had never been a difficult thing in the past. Words came easily to Sam around Frodo, and they had since he'd been a young Hobbit. The Baggins were a constant presence in Sam's young life. Even as a child, Bag End had always been a place of welcome and familiarity.
There's a distinct emptiness to knowing that's gone here, as there always has been. He walks along the streets of Goldvale, bearing the sigil of the Scarlett Dragons across his chest on a tunic with a sword and some small satchels belted to his waist. He's also wearing leather bracers; subtlely jewelled and tied to his forearms, as given to him by his chosen guild. He's thankfully been cleaned and fed since his arrival in the city, though precious few of his questions seem to have real answers. This isn't a place of any real sense, and Sam knows this on some level, but the knowledge hardly comforts him. He's roosted and settling, but only out of obligation. It hardly seems as though any of them are going anywhere.
At his side is Frodo. Or, perhaps, someone Sam recognizes as Frodo. It doesn't take much to see that he's different. Cleaner, healthier and slightly less troubled. In any other situation, Sam would have rejoiced and thanked anything that would listen for this change in his master's demeanor. He hardly thinks he would have questioned the sudden change for the good fortune of it. But he still comes to Sam too changed for his own comfort, as though something pulled the most painful moments of their quest straight from Frodo and left him for a more peaceful time. The presence of Frodo and a younger Bilbo was the most troubling mystery to reach him yet, and the subject of many pensive hours passed in the safety of his bunk. There are many things that he can't be sure of, simply by the nature of this place, but not Frodo. He never wanted to be unsure of Frodo.
Barely has he spoken to his master as they walk, looking for somewhere quiet to rest. Even accompanying him this far had taken some consideration, after learning more of Frodo's apparent lack of memory. But he accepted his request, because most unsettling of all, he knows that this is, indeed, Frodo Baggins. He knows that it can't be anyone else, just as the Hobbit claiming to be Bilbo isn't lying. He wouldn't deny Frodo protection of a passable calibre after seeing some of the ruffians who have taken up residency in Nickelhollow.
And so he leaves Steelarm, having learned a bit and with heavier pockets, to Tinwick with his master. He remains focused and cordial as he can, and he doesn't speak to Frodo unless he's spoken to first.
Upon reaching the quiet, pensive district of Tinwick, Sam finds a tree by a fairly sizable pond and shrugs out of his pack, taking a seat against the trunk. Wordlessly, Sam opens the pack and retrieves a yellow-skinned apple, and holds it out to Frodo.
his_gardner) and Frodo Baggins (wheeloffire)What: Liangyu's Request, talking, apple-eating.
When: Whenever Liangyu's Request actually takes place.
Where: Somewhere in Tinwick.
Rating: E for everyone or whatever.
Never would Sam have expected that speaking to Frodo would not come naturally.
It had never been a difficult thing in the past. Words came easily to Sam around Frodo, and they had since he'd been a young Hobbit. The Baggins were a constant presence in Sam's young life. Even as a child, Bag End had always been a place of welcome and familiarity.
There's a distinct emptiness to knowing that's gone here, as there always has been. He walks along the streets of Goldvale, bearing the sigil of the Scarlett Dragons across his chest on a tunic with a sword and some small satchels belted to his waist. He's also wearing leather bracers; subtlely jewelled and tied to his forearms, as given to him by his chosen guild. He's thankfully been cleaned and fed since his arrival in the city, though precious few of his questions seem to have real answers. This isn't a place of any real sense, and Sam knows this on some level, but the knowledge hardly comforts him. He's roosted and settling, but only out of obligation. It hardly seems as though any of them are going anywhere.
At his side is Frodo. Or, perhaps, someone Sam recognizes as Frodo. It doesn't take much to see that he's different. Cleaner, healthier and slightly less troubled. In any other situation, Sam would have rejoiced and thanked anything that would listen for this change in his master's demeanor. He hardly thinks he would have questioned the sudden change for the good fortune of it. But he still comes to Sam too changed for his own comfort, as though something pulled the most painful moments of their quest straight from Frodo and left him for a more peaceful time. The presence of Frodo and a younger Bilbo was the most troubling mystery to reach him yet, and the subject of many pensive hours passed in the safety of his bunk. There are many things that he can't be sure of, simply by the nature of this place, but not Frodo. He never wanted to be unsure of Frodo.
Barely has he spoken to his master as they walk, looking for somewhere quiet to rest. Even accompanying him this far had taken some consideration, after learning more of Frodo's apparent lack of memory. But he accepted his request, because most unsettling of all, he knows that this is, indeed, Frodo Baggins. He knows that it can't be anyone else, just as the Hobbit claiming to be Bilbo isn't lying. He wouldn't deny Frodo protection of a passable calibre after seeing some of the ruffians who have taken up residency in Nickelhollow.
And so he leaves Steelarm, having learned a bit and with heavier pockets, to Tinwick with his master. He remains focused and cordial as he can, and he doesn't speak to Frodo unless he's spoken to first.
Upon reaching the quiet, pensive district of Tinwick, Sam finds a tree by a fairly sizable pond and shrugs out of his pack, taking a seat against the trunk. Wordlessly, Sam opens the pack and retrieves a yellow-skinned apple, and holds it out to Frodo.
no subject
He wondered on much, but none of these things hurt him quite as much as the distrust he held for Frodo.
He looks briefly at his master when he speaks. His eyes quickly fall, but his expression remains just as stony as it had been.
"Whatever it is that brung us all here without no word of it, sir."
no subject
Both of them were on a very important quest, and whatever had brought them here had yanked them out at one of the most vital moments of them all...especially in Sam's case, or so it seemed. It was very inconvenient, and he very much so wanted to return home, and he had no doubt in his mind that Samwise thought the same.
If anything, even more so.
"Of course. Understandable, yes...very understandable indeed..."
Samwise didn't lie- Frodo knew that well. And if he were to have a problem, he would tell Frodo if there was one. Perhaps, he was being a little too intimidated by this Sam. "I must beg your pardon. For I believed that you were unhappy with me."
no subject
If nothing else, Goldvale was a green and vibrant place. He enjoyed the city for its dreamlike beauty; but at times, this only seemed to lend credit to his misgivings. No place he knew had potential for this sort of beauty; this vibrant, colourful place of green things and golden sun-light held such a natural draw to Sam. He hadn't seen its like since he'd left the Shire, and while he found it soothing and welcoming, it made him suspicious. Its appeal to Sam seemed unreal and strange; it was homey and familiar enough to be welcoming, but new and exotic enough to keep his interest. It only fueled his more unwelcome suspicions of the nature of this place, and of his purpose in being here.
He looked back when Frodo apologized. "No harm." He replied calmly, "No harm and no trouble neither, sir."
no subject
But...there was something about it all that was more of a relief than not. While this new world was very suspicious, it also put Frodo's busy mind to rest. It was like a home away from home- ...home. A place where odd little things told him he would never see again during his last living days upon this very earth.
Yet, he was here. It was nothing like the Shire, absolutely not, but it was so very much like it!
The trees were green, the air was clear and pure. The sky was always a very pretty blue, and Frodo found himself busying himself with studies and books and research. Those too were very different from what he was accustomed with, but it reminded him of the days where he and Bilbo would study the languages of the Elves, and that helped to settle him a bit.
Perhaps, the Ring could no longer poison him here.
"Shall we ever return, Sam?" It was a question that very much came out of nowhere, but Frodo found himself oddly curious.