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
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.