Sam fic: "Bad Step" Part 18, rated PG
Sorry I missed posting yesterday! I came home happy, but mostly dead. Today I'm slightly alive, so I'll just say Thank you for all your good wishes. The Hoot was wonderful. I'm thrilled to meet so many delightful people, and bask in the joy of your company. *sappy smile*
Here's a short update, just to get us going again. Hugs all around!
Will joined the luncheon party not
long after everyone sat down. From what Frodo could gather, he’d been setting
up the big wash tub in the Gamgees’ back yard so May could rinse out the
mud-begrimed clothes and blankets. Frodo barely shook his head, listening to
May’s raptures over Will’s good nature. Frodo was certain that Will’s
helpfulness had everything to do with May’s praise, and little to do with his inherent
goodness. That May understood that as well was perfectly obvious from her
excessive carrying-on. However, Will had been a fine help to them all this day.
If Frodo had to have someone hanging about the place paying court, he was
grateful it was a sensible, courteous hobbit like Will; there were far sillier
lads May could have fixed on.
For his part, Frodo had little
appetite. He’d tucked into his chicken potato salad lustily enough-after all,
he’d had a trying morning, and no breakfast at all. Then he recollected
Marigold spooning some thin broth between Sam’s cracked and punished lips. From
that moment on, any additional bite seemed a kind of disrespect for all Sam had
gone through. How could he, Frodo, feel hungry after missing only a morning’s
meal, when poor Sam had had nothing, not even water it appeared, for days on
end? From that point on, the savory spread might as well have been sawdust. He
pushed the food about his plate, hoping no one would notice his lack of appetite,
until he could make his escape to the kitchen. Idly, he listened to the chatter
of the young people, while their elders quietly ate.
“Really,” May gushed, “it’s so much
easier to do the washing when I don’t have to carry the water as well. You’re
the saving of me, Will Bunce! My poor back will be sore enough come evening,
and those blankets are so heavy when they’re full of water. I can scarce lift
them onto the line sometimes.”
“I would be happy to help you, Miss
May, if you’ll let me,” Will nobly offered.
May clapped her hands. “Would ye?
You’re too good to be believed, Master Bunce. I always did think ye were the thoughtfullest,
most generous hobbit on this side of the Shire, and that’s a fact. Why, when
Ned Noakes-“
“Leave off, May,” the Gaffer
interrupted irritably. “We’ve business to sort here.”
“What business is that, Gaffer?”
Daisy asked, while her sister looked surprised.
“The nursing of Sam. That’s our
first order of business-much as I appreciate your help with the washing, Will.”
The Gaffer nodded in his direction.
Will smiled. “My pleasure, Gaffer.”
May looked satisfied by this sentiment, and blushed.
“What ye need to know is, Mr.
Baggins has kindly offered us the use of two o’ his rooms while Sam remains
here. I’ll be in the spare room next to Sam, and you girls’ll have the one
opposite. Ye can work out amongst yourselves who stays where when, so long as
there’s no traipsing up and down the Hill in the middle of the night! Pick your
spot for the evening and settle.”
Daisy said to May, “Whyn’t you bring
up Mari’s things after you finish the wash? I’m sure she’ll insist on staying
the first night herself.”
“Where will you be?” May asked.
Frodo wondered for a moment if May contemplated having the smial to herself-and
whatever company she might choose to invite.
“I’ll come home after I finish
making the supper,” Daisy said, crushing May’s plans in that regard (if,
indeed, she had any). Will looked perfectly indifferent, as any wise hobbit
must.
“That’s what ye can sort out later,”
interrupted the Gaffer. “The main point is, ye’re not to bother Mr. Baggins
with a lot o’ commotion. It’s our part to relieve him of such chores as cooking
and cleaning and the tending of Sam, until the lad’s fit to be moved back
home.”
Frodo sat up in alarm. “Master Gamgee,
you’re too generous. Believe me, I did not make my offer so that you and your
family could wait upon me hand and foot. I hope that I, too, will do my share
of the nursing of Sam-and cooking and sitting up and whatever else needs to be
done.”
“It’s kind of ye to say it, sir, but
you’ve put yourself to enough trouble as it is.”
Frodo could not explain the strange
turmoil in his brain. He only knew he needed to do something, and
sitting about whilst everyone else was busy was not it. “Master Gamgee, I made
the offer in part so that I might be of some use to your family. I would
consider it the greatest of favors if you would allow me to do my share. I am
quite fond of Sam, sincerely. It will soothe me to care for him, I think.”
The Gaffer looked hesitant. “Sam is
our responsibility.”
“He is mine as well. I haven’t forgot
that Sam would not be in need of our care if he hadn’t been so determined to
make certain I was safe. I feel that his loyalty is a debt to be honored-indeed
I do, Master Gamgee.”
The Gaffer shook his head unhappily.
The two sisters watched with large eyes. Doubtless the Gaffer ruled his own roost;
such a contest of wills must be rare in their experience.
At last the Gaffer sighed. “Very
well, Mr. Baggins. I must give ye your own way, in light of all you’ve done for
Sam. But don’t think ye’re committed for the duration. If you’ve business to
see to, you must go about and do it. We’ll carry on as needed.”
“I’m certain that you will. But I
can think of no more urgent business at present than seeing Sam back safe and
sound on his legs again.”
A short silence followed this
speech, but Frodo was relieved to see the Gaffer appearing more pleased than
flustered. Frodo hoped his vigorous appeal had convinced the hard-headed
gardener that the presence of the Gamgee family, and Sam in particular, was no
nuisance.
Ma Twofoot had been eating steadily the
while. At the pause, she set down her silver, dabbed her lips, and pushed back
her chair. “Forgive me for hurrying off, but I don't want to neglect Marigold.
No doubt she’ll be wanting lunch as well.”
Frodo jumped to his feet as the
matron collected her dishes. “Let me help you with that.” He hoped the alacrity
with which he scooped up his plate prevented Miss Daisy from seeing how little
of her good cooking he had eaten. To his relief, Ma made no protest, merely
nodded in acknowledgement and set out for the kitchen. Frodo followed hard on
her heels, leaving the others to finish.
Ma set her plate in the kitchen
sink, then reached for Frodo’s. “That won’t help, ye know.”
Frodo was taken aback. “What won’t?”
Ma nodded at his full plate. “I know
ye don’t feel like it, sir, but starving yourself won’t make Sam well.”
Frodo felt a pang of guilt. “I’m not
starving.”
“It’s hard, I know, but ye must keep
up yer strength. You won’t be doing Sam any favors, nor Hamfast either, if you
go fainting away in the middle of the night.”
Frodo wanted to smile, but the burden
of his guilt was too sharp in his chest. “I assure you, dear madam, I have no
intention of fainting.”
“That’s well, for I doubt that anyone
in this smial’d have the strength to lift ye if ye did, apart from Hamfast.
We’d just have to cover ye with a blanket and walk round.”
Now Frodo really did smile. “I'll
look after myself, never fear.”
He added, as she began efficiently
to pack away the uneaten food, “Thank you for your help today. I’m well aware
you have many demands on your time. It’s kind of you to look after Sam.”
“I’ll do my share, for the sake of
Belle and Hamfast, if naught else. But Sam was always such a sweet lad, it’s a
pleasure to look after him for his own sake.”
Frodo was touched. It seemed
everyone had their own reasons for seeing to Sam’s comfort. It mattered not to
Frodo, except to reassure him that Sam would be well tended. As Ma finished up,
he said, “I would offer you a room as well, but I imagine you’ll want to go
home in the evening.”
Ma smiled at him kindly. “Well, it’s
early days. Let’s see how Sam is doing, and then we’ll know.”
Frodo followed her down the hall to
the bedroom. Her disinclination to give him a direct answer had worry snag him
again by the throat. Surely, Sam was out of danger now. He was eased and
medicated, resting in bed. Surely, he was on the road to recovery. Why, then,
did Ma Twofoot’s bland statement put him so much on edge?
Continued in Part 19
For a complete list of entries, see the Bad Step chapter listing.
Here's a short update, just to get us going again. Hugs all around!
Will joined the luncheon party not
long after everyone sat down. From what Frodo could gather, he’d been setting
up the big wash tub in the Gamgees’ back yard so May could rinse out the
mud-begrimed clothes and blankets. Frodo barely shook his head, listening to
May’s raptures over Will’s good nature. Frodo was certain that Will’s
helpfulness had everything to do with May’s praise, and little to do with his inherent
goodness. That May understood that as well was perfectly obvious from her
excessive carrying-on. However, Will had been a fine help to them all this day.
If Frodo had to have someone hanging about the place paying court, he was
grateful it was a sensible, courteous hobbit like Will; there were far sillier
lads May could have fixed on.
For his part, Frodo had little
appetite. He’d tucked into his chicken potato salad lustily enough-after all,
he’d had a trying morning, and no breakfast at all. Then he recollected
Marigold spooning some thin broth between Sam’s cracked and punished lips. From
that moment on, any additional bite seemed a kind of disrespect for all Sam had
gone through. How could he, Frodo, feel hungry after missing only a morning’s
meal, when poor Sam had had nothing, not even water it appeared, for days on
end? From that point on, the savory spread might as well have been sawdust. He
pushed the food about his plate, hoping no one would notice his lack of appetite,
until he could make his escape to the kitchen. Idly, he listened to the chatter
of the young people, while their elders quietly ate.
“Really,” May gushed, “it’s so much
easier to do the washing when I don’t have to carry the water as well. You’re
the saving of me, Will Bunce! My poor back will be sore enough come evening,
and those blankets are so heavy when they’re full of water. I can scarce lift
them onto the line sometimes.”
“I would be happy to help you, Miss
May, if you’ll let me,” Will nobly offered.
May clapped her hands. “Would ye?
You’re too good to be believed, Master Bunce. I always did think ye were the thoughtfullest,
most generous hobbit on this side of the Shire, and that’s a fact. Why, when
Ned Noakes-“
“Leave off, May,” the Gaffer
interrupted irritably. “We’ve business to sort here.”
“What business is that, Gaffer?”
Daisy asked, while her sister looked surprised.
“The nursing of Sam. That’s our
first order of business-much as I appreciate your help with the washing, Will.”
The Gaffer nodded in his direction.
Will smiled. “My pleasure, Gaffer.”
May looked satisfied by this sentiment, and blushed.
“What ye need to know is, Mr.
Baggins has kindly offered us the use of two o’ his rooms while Sam remains
here. I’ll be in the spare room next to Sam, and you girls’ll have the one
opposite. Ye can work out amongst yourselves who stays where when, so long as
there’s no traipsing up and down the Hill in the middle of the night! Pick your
spot for the evening and settle.”
Daisy said to May, “Whyn’t you bring
up Mari’s things after you finish the wash? I’m sure she’ll insist on staying
the first night herself.”
“Where will you be?” May asked.
Frodo wondered for a moment if May contemplated having the smial to herself-and
whatever company she might choose to invite.
“I’ll come home after I finish
making the supper,” Daisy said, crushing May’s plans in that regard (if,
indeed, she had any). Will looked perfectly indifferent, as any wise hobbit
must.
“That’s what ye can sort out later,”
interrupted the Gaffer. “The main point is, ye’re not to bother Mr. Baggins
with a lot o’ commotion. It’s our part to relieve him of such chores as cooking
and cleaning and the tending of Sam, until the lad’s fit to be moved back
home.”
Frodo sat up in alarm. “Master Gamgee,
you’re too generous. Believe me, I did not make my offer so that you and your
family could wait upon me hand and foot. I hope that I, too, will do my share
of the nursing of Sam-and cooking and sitting up and whatever else needs to be
done.”
“It’s kind of ye to say it, sir, but
you’ve put yourself to enough trouble as it is.”
Frodo could not explain the strange
turmoil in his brain. He only knew he needed to do something, and
sitting about whilst everyone else was busy was not it. “Master Gamgee, I made
the offer in part so that I might be of some use to your family. I would
consider it the greatest of favors if you would allow me to do my share. I am
quite fond of Sam, sincerely. It will soothe me to care for him, I think.”
The Gaffer looked hesitant. “Sam is
our responsibility.”
“He is mine as well. I haven’t forgot
that Sam would not be in need of our care if he hadn’t been so determined to
make certain I was safe. I feel that his loyalty is a debt to be honored-indeed
I do, Master Gamgee.”
The Gaffer shook his head unhappily.
The two sisters watched with large eyes. Doubtless the Gaffer ruled his own roost;
such a contest of wills must be rare in their experience.
At last the Gaffer sighed. “Very
well, Mr. Baggins. I must give ye your own way, in light of all you’ve done for
Sam. But don’t think ye’re committed for the duration. If you’ve business to
see to, you must go about and do it. We’ll carry on as needed.”
“I’m certain that you will. But I
can think of no more urgent business at present than seeing Sam back safe and
sound on his legs again.”
A short silence followed this
speech, but Frodo was relieved to see the Gaffer appearing more pleased than
flustered. Frodo hoped his vigorous appeal had convinced the hard-headed
gardener that the presence of the Gamgee family, and Sam in particular, was no
nuisance.
Ma Twofoot had been eating steadily the
while. At the pause, she set down her silver, dabbed her lips, and pushed back
her chair. “Forgive me for hurrying off, but I don't want to neglect Marigold.
No doubt she’ll be wanting lunch as well.”
Frodo jumped to his feet as the
matron collected her dishes. “Let me help you with that.” He hoped the alacrity
with which he scooped up his plate prevented Miss Daisy from seeing how little
of her good cooking he had eaten. To his relief, Ma made no protest, merely
nodded in acknowledgement and set out for the kitchen. Frodo followed hard on
her heels, leaving the others to finish.
Ma set her plate in the kitchen
sink, then reached for Frodo’s. “That won’t help, ye know.”
Frodo was taken aback. “What won’t?”
Ma nodded at his full plate. “I know
ye don’t feel like it, sir, but starving yourself won’t make Sam well.”
Frodo felt a pang of guilt. “I’m not
starving.”
“It’s hard, I know, but ye must keep
up yer strength. You won’t be doing Sam any favors, nor Hamfast either, if you
go fainting away in the middle of the night.”
Frodo wanted to smile, but the burden
of his guilt was too sharp in his chest. “I assure you, dear madam, I have no
intention of fainting.”
“That’s well, for I doubt that anyone
in this smial’d have the strength to lift ye if ye did, apart from Hamfast.
We’d just have to cover ye with a blanket and walk round.”
Now Frodo really did smile. “I'll
look after myself, never fear.”
He added, as she began efficiently
to pack away the uneaten food, “Thank you for your help today. I’m well aware
you have many demands on your time. It’s kind of you to look after Sam.”
“I’ll do my share, for the sake of
Belle and Hamfast, if naught else. But Sam was always such a sweet lad, it’s a
pleasure to look after him for his own sake.”
Frodo was touched. It seemed
everyone had their own reasons for seeing to Sam’s comfort. It mattered not to
Frodo, except to reassure him that Sam would be well tended. As Ma finished up,
he said, “I would offer you a room as well, but I imagine you’ll want to go
home in the evening.”
Ma smiled at him kindly. “Well, it’s
early days. Let’s see how Sam is doing, and then we’ll know.”
Frodo followed her down the hall to
the bedroom. Her disinclination to give him a direct answer had worry snag him
again by the throat. Surely, Sam was out of danger now. He was eased and
medicated, resting in bed. Surely, he was on the road to recovery. Why, then,
did Ma Twofoot’s bland statement put him so much on edge?
Continued in Part 19
For a complete list of entries, see the Bad Step chapter listing.