In honor of Samwise Gamgee's birthday...
Yes, I know it's a day late -- I'm usually a bit late remembering birthdays. A drabble for the fellow I fell in love with at the age of 14.
This was not his Sam.
This aged Hobbit looked him in the eye, called him "Frodo," nodded to Elrond and Gandalf but regaled them as easily as if he sat with his cronies at the Bush; definitely not the diffident young gardener who'd followed him to Mordor. This Sam spoke with authority borne with the ease of custom, 49 years as Mayor, the Master of Bag End.
A warrior? Sam had the scars. A wizard? He'd brought the battered Shire back to life.
Now Frodo spoke to Sam as if to Aragorn; he knew a king when he saw one.
This was not his Sam.
This aged Hobbit looked him in the eye, called him "Frodo," nodded to Elrond and Gandalf but regaled them as easily as if he sat with his cronies at the Bush; definitely not the diffident young gardener who'd followed him to Mordor. This Sam spoke with authority borne with the ease of custom, 49 years as Mayor, the Master of Bag End.
A warrior? Sam had the scars. A wizard? He'd brought the battered Shire back to life.
Now Frodo spoke to Sam as if to Aragorn; he knew a king when he saw one.