Ifs and Maybes
Pairing: Sam/Frodo
Disclaimer: Don’t own these characters. No offence intended or money made.
Sam opened the window a little wider, letting in some of the soft spring breeze, and turned quietly back to the still figure in the bed. Just missing a sigh, he tucked the blankets more firmly around the too thin form, and made his way from the bedroom.
"How is he?" Rose was sitting quietly in the chair, a nursing Elanor held against her breast.
"Sleeping," Sam answered, dropping heavily into his own chair. He ran a hand through his hair in a most unSam-like way, and fell silent, his eyes glued to the sight of his wife and child, but Rose knew he wasn’t seeing them, not really. His mind was far away. She had long ago learned to wait; he would say what was on his mind when he was good and ready.
She had finished nursing Elanor and settled her in her crib before Sam finally broke the silence.
"He shouldn’t be like this, Rosie, it isn’t fair on him." He was silent again, listening to the thoughts in his head. "Do you remember how he was? Wild and carefree, scared of nothing and no-one."
*Sam! Sam, Sam, the gardener’s son. I haven’t seen you about the place lately. Oh, listen up, can you hear voices? That’s what I thought. If anybody should ask if you’ve seen me, could you say that I went over towards Crickhollow? You’re a good lad, Sam. Come by later, and you can have as many of these lovely mushrooms as your hands can hold." *
"He could strip a mushroom field faster than any other hobbit in the Shire." Sam almost smiled. "For all the times he was caught and punished, there were another half dozen he got away with."
Rose didn’t speak, knowing it wasn’t time yet, but she felt her throat close at the simple statement … And gentle as a newborn lamb, Samwise. Don’t forget that…
*Hello, Rosie. The day’s warm, isn’t it? Let me help you with all that. A lass as pretty as you shouldn’t be burdened so…" *
"He was frightened, Rosie, so frightened, but he did what he had to do because it was the right thing. But he came back wrong … hollow and so lonely. He’s so lonely now. He thinks he should have died on that Mountain, and now he’s just waiting to fade away… it’s not right!" Sam put a hand against his mouth, holding back a sob. "Nothing frightened him, ever."
*It’s all right, Sam, it’s me, Frodo. It’s only a storm, nothing to be frightened about. And anyway, what could a storm do to a brave, bright lad like you? Why are you out so late? Oh, well that was kind of the Gaffer to think of us, but we’re fine. Would you like to come in, or would you rather go on home? We can’t just stand here in the pouring rain like this. All right, I’ll come with you down the Row, give me your hand so that I don’t slip in the mud, and let’s be off. Shall I tell you a story while we walk? That will take our attention away from the lightning."
Unable to bear the loss in her husband’s voice, Rose crossed to Sam, holding his head against her breast, crooning to him as if he was a child who needed comfort.
*Come on, Sam! Oh don’t worry about work. The sun’s shining, all is right, and Merry and I are up here with food enough for the Shire! Come and join us! That’s it, make yourself comfortable. We’re safe from the world up here."*
"We would lie under the tree .." Sam gestured upwards. "He would sit with his back against the trunk and tell stories of elvish heroes and heroines, and even though all the stories seemed to be tragic, I would lie with my head in his lap and listen to his voice, and oh Rosie, he could make me see those deeds he spoke of …"
*I don’t know why so many of the stories are tragedies, Samwise. Maybe it’s the fate of the elves to be like that. We could never be tragic, could we? Can you think of Fatty Bolger missing even one meal as he pined over a lost love? Of course, he may pine over a lost sausage, but that’s another story! No, we’ll never be tragic heroes, my Sam." *
"And he would look at me, as I lay there, and he would run his fingers through my hair, and I could see in his eyes … see the love he had for me. And it was returned, tenfold."
"Oh Sam, my beautiful, beautiful Sam! Let me touch you, let me hold you … kiss me again … Sam."
"There was never a more beautiful sight than Frodo, stretched out on the grass, moonlight shining on his skin, his hair, catching in his eyes and reflecting back all the glory of the light…"
Rose felt a twinge of hurt then, but she batted it away impatiently, for Frodo was a beautiful creature, and Sam had been young enough to have his head turned.
"He’s yours, Rosie, of course he is. Heart and soul. It’s just … it would be nice if I could have a little corner of his heart, just to remember him by."
"If only Mr Bilbo had never found that Ring! If only he had taken it with him when he left!" Sam pulled away from Rose and stood up, wandering aimlessly to the window and then to Elanor’s crib, his face softening as he looked on the wonder that was his child.
"So many ifs," he said softly. "So many things I should have done differently. Maybe then, I wouldn’t be here, waiting for him to …"
"Sometimes, I think I can hear the elves, Sam. Singing one of their mournful songs. And I hear the sea. I’m so tired…"
"Now Sam, you can’t live a life on ifs and maybes." Rosie found her voice at last. "What’s happened has happened, and now we just have to make the best of it." She touched Sam’s back gently, trying to offer comfort. "Come now, sit to table and I’ll get you something to eat."
Blindly, Sam did as he was told. He listened to the silence from Frodo’s room and thought how one day, hopefully, this silence would be filled with children – his and Rosie’s. And how Frodo would still be with them, beaming proudly at his honorary nieces and nephews.
But sometimes, Frodo wasn’t the only one who could hear the sea.
The End
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