Haunted by Antane
Author: Antane
Title: Haunted
Element: creepy
Rating: G
Summary: Mayor Samwise thinks of the ghosts that inhabit the Shire Not a scary story (the muse could not come up with one) and so likely not exactly what is being looked for, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless. Elanor and Frodo-lad are in it also with unnamed camoes by the rest of the clan.
Word Count: 1,596
Mayor Samwise was quite aware of all the talk that went about Hobbiton about how “queer” a place Bag End and even how “creepy” it was, with all the tales about Mad Baggins disappearing not once but twice, and the last time at his own birthday party never to be seen again. Sam had even heard tales of how others had seen Mr. Bilbo suddenly disappear and just as disconcertedly reappear even before he had gone off into the blue forever. The Mayor knew better, of course, but had long given up trying to correct his fellow hobbits. But one thing he did agree with was that Bag End was haunted. Not in the way they meant, but in the lingering presence of his masters which he took great comfort in and indeed silently and joyfully celebrated, after the initial sense of terrible loss had given way to the realization of how close he still was to them, especially that one he considered not only master but brother, even at times child.
The treasured ghosts that haunted Bag End could be seen or heard at any given time by those who had eyes to see and ears to hear. There were the pipes left behind, the tea mugs, the blankets, the clothes, the myriad parchments and books. There was the bench in the garden that at times Rose watched her Sam stare at as though listening for and to a beloved voice and looking at a dear face. Sometimes the presence was so strong that Sam even leaned down to kiss a beloved head, though to anyone else it would seem he touched only air. Sometimes the Mayor thought he could hear Mr. Bilbo’s laugh and dramatic or mischievous voice as he retold of his adventures or a story of the Elves; sometimes Sam could all but see the twinkle in his eyes. There were the times when his master-brother was felt most vividly, whether it was full of life and light or awash in torment. The latter was when the Master of Bag End felt his treasure’s presence and absence the keenest and his heart was wrung to where he could hardly breathe or speak for his longing to soothe that agony and know he was separated by all the Sundering Sea and could not do so. Those times were hardest in the beginning, but in the past years now, he had not felt such and the ghosts that surrounded him were peaceful and happy.
Sam discovered he wasn’t the only one who felt those invisible ones, so long departed, yet still so present, when he overheard Elanor and Frodo-lad arguing one afternoon. The children all loved to act out the story their Sam-dad and Uncle Frodo and all their other uncles had lived through and usually they were content to be in the roles of their namesakes, but one day Elanor said she wanted to be Frodo.
“But you’re a lass, Ellie!” Frodo-lad cried. “And anyway, I was named after him, so I should be him, just like always.”
“You weren’t even alive when he left and I was,” Elanor argued. “I’m the only one he saw, the only one he held, the only one he sang to.”
“You were just a baby when he left. You can’t possibly remember any of that, so it’s almost the same as the rest of us. You read in the book that he called some of us even by name, so he did see, even he didn’t stay.”
Elanor was not to be put off. “I do remember him and I won’t have you say nay.”
Sam smiled a bit, thinking that somehow his master’s stubbornness had carried over to her. Of course, his eldest son was not about to put off either.
“I do say nay. Sam-dad’s told us so much about him that you are remembering that.”
“I am not! I remember how he held me and told me he loved me and was glad I was here and that all he had suffered was worth it, so just so we could all be safe. I do remember him! He was so sad, but he was so beautiful. He had his own light inside like he was lit by the stars and I’m not just remembering that from the book. I saw it! I think sometimes I still do hear and see him.” Her voice softened to a gentle murmur. “And he’s happy now.”
“Then if you remember so much, tell me how he sang and what he sang.”
Sam then heard his eldest raise her voice in song, but was not prepared by how strongly it struck him to his core. It was so heartachingly beautiful, and so true, even if it was a voice of a lass, that tears sprang to his eyes. It was then he knew Elanor was haunted as well. He came into the room with a heart full to bursting with sweet pain.
“Now see what you’ve done!” Frodo-lad said. “You’ve made Sam-dad cry!”
Elanor looked at her father and the tears on his cheek and ran to him and squeezed him tight as she began to cry herself. “I’m sorry, Sam-dad! I didn’t meant to make you cry.”
Sam held her, stroking her curls and softly murmuring to her when he regained control of his voice again. “Oh, my dearest flower, there is naught to be sorry for. It was that wonderful to hear you sing - and to hear him sing again. You have given me a great gift.” He raised her head, wiped at her tears and smiled at her with overflowing love. “Don’t you remember what Mr. Gandalf said, that not all tears are evil?”
Elanor nodded. “Yes, Sam-dad, I remember.”
Sam kissed his daughter’s head and hugged her again. “I’m glad you remember him, my fair lass.”
The argument was over with Frodo-lad agreeing this one time only his sister could take Uncle Frodo’s role. When Elanor chose the last days before they had reached the Fire, Sam grieved and rejoiced anew to see such vivid portrayal of their beloved one. Elanor truly did remember, which had to be because there was something Elvish about her and always had been which Sam celebrated.
It was not just Bag-End itself that was haunted neither. The lands around were also. Rose knew if her Sam could not be found in the garden then he was likely to be resting against or more likely sitting facing his master’s favorite tree. Many a time Frodo had sat there reading or after the Quest, simply sitting, staring out, trying to put down roots again and finding that an increasing impossibility. Sometimes Sam had found him there after a worrisome search, pressing his hands down on the grass so hard they were white, as though he could force himself back into the land he had loved and suffered so much for. Other times, Sam would find him staring distantly, hands slightly trembling at his sides. The gardener saw such even long after Frodo left, but more times he saw those hands at peace now, those beloved eyes still staring, but no longer tormented by what he was feeling emptied of, instead having the peace of being filled again. Those were other times one would see the Mayor bend to kiss the air.
The Gamgee children liked at times, with their Sam-dad’s supervision, to travel away along the road to Crickhollow which was haunted by other spirits as well. They raced to hide behind the same tree that their father and uncles had when the Black Rider had shown up. Sam was amused (after he got his initial horror) about how much his children argued who was going to be the Rider. They knew he was real, or had been, but to them, he was just a scary figure out of a story, a wraith in more ways than one, someone who couldn’t really hurt them. It was those times that Sam smiled and silently honored his master’s sacrifices in ensuring that this is all those wraiths would ever be to the children of all Middle-earth, just a character out of tale, if known at all. The Gamgee clan also acted out the crossing of the Brandywine and Sam looking back and seeing the Rider on the shore they had just left. They were that proud of their father and so a double argument would break out, who would be the Rider and who would be Sam, if Sam himself did not play the role, which at times they pleaded for. More than one time they made it as far as Crickhollow itself, which Merry had said would always be welcome for them to use. And while they happily splashed and sang as they washed away the dirt of the day’s adventures, he would hear echoes of his own and Frodo’s and Pippin’s. It seemed at times the whole Shire was haunted with merry sprites.
Sam wished they could travel as far as old Tom’s house and meet that merry fellow and the fair Goldberry, but he did not wish to endanger his children for he remembered there were spirits that haunted the area between that were truly creepy.
The Mayor contented himself with the ghosts that lingered that he still held close to his heart and still was able to hear and see, even if others though him as cracked as Mad Baggins - both of them. If he was in such grand company, he did not mind it all.
Title: Haunted
Element: creepy
Rating: G
Summary: Mayor Samwise thinks of the ghosts that inhabit the Shire Not a scary story (the muse could not come up with one) and so likely not exactly what is being looked for, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless. Elanor and Frodo-lad are in it also with unnamed camoes by the rest of the clan.
Word Count: 1,596
Mayor Samwise was quite aware of all the talk that went about Hobbiton about how “queer” a place Bag End and even how “creepy” it was, with all the tales about Mad Baggins disappearing not once but twice, and the last time at his own birthday party never to be seen again. Sam had even heard tales of how others had seen Mr. Bilbo suddenly disappear and just as disconcertedly reappear even before he had gone off into the blue forever. The Mayor knew better, of course, but had long given up trying to correct his fellow hobbits. But one thing he did agree with was that Bag End was haunted. Not in the way they meant, but in the lingering presence of his masters which he took great comfort in and indeed silently and joyfully celebrated, after the initial sense of terrible loss had given way to the realization of how close he still was to them, especially that one he considered not only master but brother, even at times child.
The treasured ghosts that haunted Bag End could be seen or heard at any given time by those who had eyes to see and ears to hear. There were the pipes left behind, the tea mugs, the blankets, the clothes, the myriad parchments and books. There was the bench in the garden that at times Rose watched her Sam stare at as though listening for and to a beloved voice and looking at a dear face. Sometimes the presence was so strong that Sam even leaned down to kiss a beloved head, though to anyone else it would seem he touched only air. Sometimes the Mayor thought he could hear Mr. Bilbo’s laugh and dramatic or mischievous voice as he retold of his adventures or a story of the Elves; sometimes Sam could all but see the twinkle in his eyes. There were the times when his master-brother was felt most vividly, whether it was full of life and light or awash in torment. The latter was when the Master of Bag End felt his treasure’s presence and absence the keenest and his heart was wrung to where he could hardly breathe or speak for his longing to soothe that agony and know he was separated by all the Sundering Sea and could not do so. Those times were hardest in the beginning, but in the past years now, he had not felt such and the ghosts that surrounded him were peaceful and happy.
Sam discovered he wasn’t the only one who felt those invisible ones, so long departed, yet still so present, when he overheard Elanor and Frodo-lad arguing one afternoon. The children all loved to act out the story their Sam-dad and Uncle Frodo and all their other uncles had lived through and usually they were content to be in the roles of their namesakes, but one day Elanor said she wanted to be Frodo.
“But you’re a lass, Ellie!” Frodo-lad cried. “And anyway, I was named after him, so I should be him, just like always.”
“You weren’t even alive when he left and I was,” Elanor argued. “I’m the only one he saw, the only one he held, the only one he sang to.”
“You were just a baby when he left. You can’t possibly remember any of that, so it’s almost the same as the rest of us. You read in the book that he called some of us even by name, so he did see, even he didn’t stay.”
Elanor was not to be put off. “I do remember him and I won’t have you say nay.”
Sam smiled a bit, thinking that somehow his master’s stubbornness had carried over to her. Of course, his eldest son was not about to put off either.
“I do say nay. Sam-dad’s told us so much about him that you are remembering that.”
“I am not! I remember how he held me and told me he loved me and was glad I was here and that all he had suffered was worth it, so just so we could all be safe. I do remember him! He was so sad, but he was so beautiful. He had his own light inside like he was lit by the stars and I’m not just remembering that from the book. I saw it! I think sometimes I still do hear and see him.” Her voice softened to a gentle murmur. “And he’s happy now.”
“Then if you remember so much, tell me how he sang and what he sang.”
Sam then heard his eldest raise her voice in song, but was not prepared by how strongly it struck him to his core. It was so heartachingly beautiful, and so true, even if it was a voice of a lass, that tears sprang to his eyes. It was then he knew Elanor was haunted as well. He came into the room with a heart full to bursting with sweet pain.
“Now see what you’ve done!” Frodo-lad said. “You’ve made Sam-dad cry!”
Elanor looked at her father and the tears on his cheek and ran to him and squeezed him tight as she began to cry herself. “I’m sorry, Sam-dad! I didn’t meant to make you cry.”
Sam held her, stroking her curls and softly murmuring to her when he regained control of his voice again. “Oh, my dearest flower, there is naught to be sorry for. It was that wonderful to hear you sing - and to hear him sing again. You have given me a great gift.” He raised her head, wiped at her tears and smiled at her with overflowing love. “Don’t you remember what Mr. Gandalf said, that not all tears are evil?”
Elanor nodded. “Yes, Sam-dad, I remember.”
Sam kissed his daughter’s head and hugged her again. “I’m glad you remember him, my fair lass.”
The argument was over with Frodo-lad agreeing this one time only his sister could take Uncle Frodo’s role. When Elanor chose the last days before they had reached the Fire, Sam grieved and rejoiced anew to see such vivid portrayal of their beloved one. Elanor truly did remember, which had to be because there was something Elvish about her and always had been which Sam celebrated.
It was not just Bag-End itself that was haunted neither. The lands around were also. Rose knew if her Sam could not be found in the garden then he was likely to be resting against or more likely sitting facing his master’s favorite tree. Many a time Frodo had sat there reading or after the Quest, simply sitting, staring out, trying to put down roots again and finding that an increasing impossibility. Sometimes Sam had found him there after a worrisome search, pressing his hands down on the grass so hard they were white, as though he could force himself back into the land he had loved and suffered so much for. Other times, Sam would find him staring distantly, hands slightly trembling at his sides. The gardener saw such even long after Frodo left, but more times he saw those hands at peace now, those beloved eyes still staring, but no longer tormented by what he was feeling emptied of, instead having the peace of being filled again. Those were other times one would see the Mayor bend to kiss the air.
The Gamgee children liked at times, with their Sam-dad’s supervision, to travel away along the road to Crickhollow which was haunted by other spirits as well. They raced to hide behind the same tree that their father and uncles had when the Black Rider had shown up. Sam was amused (after he got his initial horror) about how much his children argued who was going to be the Rider. They knew he was real, or had been, but to them, he was just a scary figure out of a story, a wraith in more ways than one, someone who couldn’t really hurt them. It was those times that Sam smiled and silently honored his master’s sacrifices in ensuring that this is all those wraiths would ever be to the children of all Middle-earth, just a character out of tale, if known at all. The Gamgee clan also acted out the crossing of the Brandywine and Sam looking back and seeing the Rider on the shore they had just left. They were that proud of their father and so a double argument would break out, who would be the Rider and who would be Sam, if Sam himself did not play the role, which at times they pleaded for. More than one time they made it as far as Crickhollow itself, which Merry had said would always be welcome for them to use. And while they happily splashed and sang as they washed away the dirt of the day’s adventures, he would hear echoes of his own and Frodo’s and Pippin’s. It seemed at times the whole Shire was haunted with merry sprites.
Sam wished they could travel as far as old Tom’s house and meet that merry fellow and the fair Goldberry, but he did not wish to endanger his children for he remembered there were spirits that haunted the area between that were truly creepy.
The Mayor contented himself with the ghosts that lingered that he still held close to his heart and still was able to hear and see, even if others though him as cracked as Mad Baggins - both of them. If he was in such grand company, he did not mind it all.