Fic: Change
Just testing this out before I post my Star Trek fic.
Title: Change: A Short Story
Fandom: Lord of the Rings
Pairing: Frodo/Sam (can be seen as slash or friendship.)
Rating: G, I guess. Nuthin' explicit.
Disclaimer: I only own my brain and not even that sometimes.
Summary: "Sam is coming soon." Frodo's POV. Post RotK.
* * * * *
This piece is part of a collection of pieces dedicated to the Lord of the Ring series. All were hand-written into two books, one that I own, and one that I gave to my teacher. These two collections, each called The White Book of Gondor, were made up of writings by each of the Nine Walkers. They were gathered by Arwen and passed to two of her children, Eldarion and Iminyё, and has been passed from generation to generation ever since, kept in secret until a new Day arises. Here is a small taste of what everyone shall read when that Day comes and we will finally be free from this ignorant bliss we've forced over our eyes.
* * * * *
I dreamt of Samwise Gamgee last night. Which isn’t abnormal, really, but it was different last night. This wasn’t the Sam from my memories. I’ve never seen him quite so old. Flaps of skin hung loosely from his neck, deep wrinkles were carved around his eyes and mouth, and his hair was silver and paper-thin with time, but his eyes were the same. His green eyes were still as bright and shining as they’ve always been, even when the crops were bad or the skies were eternally gray, almost as if all the hope had been drained from the world, dragging all the color with it, extinguishing the sun, killing everything in its path-
In the dream, Sam was standing on the deck of an elegant ship, the bow reaching up as if to pierce the dark, sapphire blue sky. The sun was beginning to set and it shone brightly from behind him, magicking his iron hair gold and giving his form such a glow, it seemed as if he himself was the sun.
He started to creep his way down the ramp, off the Elven ship, and onto the Undying Lands, metamorphosing with each step. Slowly, his thin hair grew thicker, his crooked spine straightened, and his wrinkled face smoothed, youthful once again. During this entire transformation, however, his kind smile didn’t waver or falter and was as warm, if not warmer, than any other time it lit up his face. He said something I could not quite hear as he stepped closer and his eyes glowed with humor.
Just before he reached me, just before I could touch his face, the dream faded and I woke, the room bright with the memory of Sam’s grin. At that moment, I knew that he was coming. I would get to see Sam again soon.
***
Life in the Undying Lands isn’t much different from life in the Shire. In some spots, green stretches as far as the eye can see, while in others, waves gently crash on shores as white as clouds. The mountain upon which my house now sits stretches down to the turquoise sea, seemingly reaching its long fingers to the world beyond this one.
Early in the morning, I left my home and walked down the smooth, cream-colored path to the ageless wooden pier, pointing in the distance. My feet make an odd hollow scuffling sound as I walk over the landing, the only sound in the pre-dawn silence. Finally making it to the end, it seems as if no time had passed at all since I woke from the strong dream and I sit on the edge, dangling my legs to the dark blue mass below. I settle myself in, knowing I had a long wait ahead and I wouldn’t be able to do anything else until I see white sails against the horizon.
***
I sat long enough for the sky to lighten, melting from a deep black to a dark purple, slowly changing to bright pink and finally to a brilliant blue. I sat there for I don’t know how many hours, watching the sun rise slowly from its bed. I was sitting there, thinking about what was to come, when I heard the soft footsteps behind me and a taller, older man sat down with me.
“Good morning, Gandalf,” I said, knowing without looking that it was the elderly wizard.
“It is, isn’t it,” I heard him muse, a smile in his voice. “An excellent day to sit on the dock, if I do say so myself.”
I grunted in reply, only just now realizing how tired I was from my mostly restless night. We remained quiet for a while, appreciating the natural beauty of the world. After a while, though, I could feel that Gandalf was itching to say something, but waiting for me to breech the topic first. He strived to act mysterious and all knowing, but after you’ve been in the company of someone long enough, those words don’t describe them well anymore.
Knowing he would eventually burst if I didn’t say anything, I decided to play along and be a little nice.
“I had a Dream last night.”
“Oh,” he said with an all-knowing note in his voice and his muscles relaxing.
I nodded, still looking ahead, toward the horizon. “Sam is coming soon.”
“Ah, yes,” he murmured. “It shall be nice to see Samwise again.”
***
After a while, Gandalf left, pipe in mouth and staff in hand. He had mumbled something about meeting Legolas for about something-or-other, but I was too preoccupied with thoughts of the Dream to listen much.
In the Undying Lands, Dreams are something to be expected of its residents. Of course, some elves have shown talents for Dreams even when in Middle Earth, but here, everyone has these mysterious visions of the future and they are known to always come true. They can be anything, from as minor as a change in the winds, to the arrival of a long lost friend.
The sky was quietly turning orange and purple again, the day birds were beginning to settle into their nests and owls were cracking open their huge, wise amber eyes. Still looking in the distance for that boat, I idly noticed that my stomach was growling. In all my anxiousness, I had forgotten to eat anything today, but I still couldn’t bring myself to rise from my hard seat.
Pondering if the Dream wasn’t about today, I was halfway off into my own mind when I saw a flash. There, right on the line separating the ocean from the sky, was a tiny square speck of white. My heart pounded and my mouth turned dry. After all this waiting, all this wondering, he was almost here, closer than he’d been in years, and I couldn’t think of anything to say.
I stood, not able to sit any longer, and watched as the white speck grew larger and larger until I could make out the ropes and planks of the boat. I backed away from the edge of the dock, suddenly scared. What if he’d come to hate me? What if…
And then he was there. Just like the Dream, he was standing on an elegant ship, old but eyes bright. As soon as I met his eyes, all my anxieties disappeared, evaporated into thin air.
He walked down the ramp, becoming younger before me, and words didn’t matter. He stood in before me, all the glory of his early days warming the air all around us.
“Hello, Mr. Frodo,” he said, his emerald eyes alight with silent amusement.
Still speechless, I choked out a laugh and reached for him, reached for solid proof that he was really there. I touched his cheek, soft and warm, and my knees almost buckled beneath me.
The air in my lungs came out in one big whoosh. Gripping his shoulders, I pulled him into a tight hug, and tears escaped from behind my lids. Barely able to breathe, I clutched at him, and sobbed, saying only one thing:
“Sam.”
* * * * *
Reviews are love!
~LtC
Title: Change: A Short Story
Fandom: Lord of the Rings
Pairing: Frodo/Sam (can be seen as slash or friendship.)
Rating: G, I guess. Nuthin' explicit.
Disclaimer: I only own my brain and not even that sometimes.
Summary: "Sam is coming soon." Frodo's POV. Post RotK.
* * * * *
This piece is part of a collection of pieces dedicated to the Lord of the Ring series. All were hand-written into two books, one that I own, and one that I gave to my teacher. These two collections, each called The White Book of Gondor, were made up of writings by each of the Nine Walkers. They were gathered by Arwen and passed to two of her children, Eldarion and Iminyё, and has been passed from generation to generation ever since, kept in secret until a new Day arises. Here is a small taste of what everyone shall read when that Day comes and we will finally be free from this ignorant bliss we've forced over our eyes.
* * * * *
I dreamt of Samwise Gamgee last night. Which isn’t abnormal, really, but it was different last night. This wasn’t the Sam from my memories. I’ve never seen him quite so old. Flaps of skin hung loosely from his neck, deep wrinkles were carved around his eyes and mouth, and his hair was silver and paper-thin with time, but his eyes were the same. His green eyes were still as bright and shining as they’ve always been, even when the crops were bad or the skies were eternally gray, almost as if all the hope had been drained from the world, dragging all the color with it, extinguishing the sun, killing everything in its path-
In the dream, Sam was standing on the deck of an elegant ship, the bow reaching up as if to pierce the dark, sapphire blue sky. The sun was beginning to set and it shone brightly from behind him, magicking his iron hair gold and giving his form such a glow, it seemed as if he himself was the sun.
He started to creep his way down the ramp, off the Elven ship, and onto the Undying Lands, metamorphosing with each step. Slowly, his thin hair grew thicker, his crooked spine straightened, and his wrinkled face smoothed, youthful once again. During this entire transformation, however, his kind smile didn’t waver or falter and was as warm, if not warmer, than any other time it lit up his face. He said something I could not quite hear as he stepped closer and his eyes glowed with humor.
Just before he reached me, just before I could touch his face, the dream faded and I woke, the room bright with the memory of Sam’s grin. At that moment, I knew that he was coming. I would get to see Sam again soon.
***
Life in the Undying Lands isn’t much different from life in the Shire. In some spots, green stretches as far as the eye can see, while in others, waves gently crash on shores as white as clouds. The mountain upon which my house now sits stretches down to the turquoise sea, seemingly reaching its long fingers to the world beyond this one.
Early in the morning, I left my home and walked down the smooth, cream-colored path to the ageless wooden pier, pointing in the distance. My feet make an odd hollow scuffling sound as I walk over the landing, the only sound in the pre-dawn silence. Finally making it to the end, it seems as if no time had passed at all since I woke from the strong dream and I sit on the edge, dangling my legs to the dark blue mass below. I settle myself in, knowing I had a long wait ahead and I wouldn’t be able to do anything else until I see white sails against the horizon.
***
I sat long enough for the sky to lighten, melting from a deep black to a dark purple, slowly changing to bright pink and finally to a brilliant blue. I sat there for I don’t know how many hours, watching the sun rise slowly from its bed. I was sitting there, thinking about what was to come, when I heard the soft footsteps behind me and a taller, older man sat down with me.
“Good morning, Gandalf,” I said, knowing without looking that it was the elderly wizard.
“It is, isn’t it,” I heard him muse, a smile in his voice. “An excellent day to sit on the dock, if I do say so myself.”
I grunted in reply, only just now realizing how tired I was from my mostly restless night. We remained quiet for a while, appreciating the natural beauty of the world. After a while, though, I could feel that Gandalf was itching to say something, but waiting for me to breech the topic first. He strived to act mysterious and all knowing, but after you’ve been in the company of someone long enough, those words don’t describe them well anymore.
Knowing he would eventually burst if I didn’t say anything, I decided to play along and be a little nice.
“I had a Dream last night.”
“Oh,” he said with an all-knowing note in his voice and his muscles relaxing.
I nodded, still looking ahead, toward the horizon. “Sam is coming soon.”
“Ah, yes,” he murmured. “It shall be nice to see Samwise again.”
***
After a while, Gandalf left, pipe in mouth and staff in hand. He had mumbled something about meeting Legolas for about something-or-other, but I was too preoccupied with thoughts of the Dream to listen much.
In the Undying Lands, Dreams are something to be expected of its residents. Of course, some elves have shown talents for Dreams even when in Middle Earth, but here, everyone has these mysterious visions of the future and they are known to always come true. They can be anything, from as minor as a change in the winds, to the arrival of a long lost friend.
The sky was quietly turning orange and purple again, the day birds were beginning to settle into their nests and owls were cracking open their huge, wise amber eyes. Still looking in the distance for that boat, I idly noticed that my stomach was growling. In all my anxiousness, I had forgotten to eat anything today, but I still couldn’t bring myself to rise from my hard seat.
Pondering if the Dream wasn’t about today, I was halfway off into my own mind when I saw a flash. There, right on the line separating the ocean from the sky, was a tiny square speck of white. My heart pounded and my mouth turned dry. After all this waiting, all this wondering, he was almost here, closer than he’d been in years, and I couldn’t think of anything to say.
I stood, not able to sit any longer, and watched as the white speck grew larger and larger until I could make out the ropes and planks of the boat. I backed away from the edge of the dock, suddenly scared. What if he’d come to hate me? What if…
And then he was there. Just like the Dream, he was standing on an elegant ship, old but eyes bright. As soon as I met his eyes, all my anxieties disappeared, evaporated into thin air.
He walked down the ramp, becoming younger before me, and words didn’t matter. He stood in before me, all the glory of his early days warming the air all around us.
“Hello, Mr. Frodo,” he said, his emerald eyes alight with silent amusement.
Still speechless, I choked out a laugh and reached for him, reached for solid proof that he was really there. I touched his cheek, soft and warm, and my knees almost buckled beneath me.
The air in my lungs came out in one big whoosh. Gripping his shoulders, I pulled him into a tight hug, and tears escaped from behind my lids. Barely able to breathe, I clutched at him, and sobbed, saying only one thing:
“Sam.”
* * * * *
Reviews are love!
~LtC