He walks into the study and closes the door. His children have been asking about Frodo again. Asking to hear the story. So he told the story about the Ringbearer.
But he didn't tell their story. He never told the story of Frodo and Sam. It's time now. He needs to write down that story before it's too late. Before the only one left, who knows the story by heart, leaves too.
Where to begin?
In the beginning of course, Sam, my dear.
Yes, Frodo, my love. I shall start the story at the beginning. It began when Frodo came to Bag End. When Sam came with his Gaffer in the morning to tend to the Garden, only to find a boy sitting on the stoop. A small, but older boy, with big eyes. That is not what Sam saw. He saw that the little boy was reading. Reading! Like it was the most natural thing in the world. Just like Mr Bilbo.
That was the first time. And the wonder Sam felt for the reading boy grew during the years. Changed to admiration, to lust, to love.
So inappropriate. So beautiful.
You found out before we left for Bree and didn't want me to come. But I saw the look of love in your face. "No, Mr Frodo! You heard what Mr Gandalf said, sir! They'll try to hurt you. I must come. For protection. They'll come at you with their swords and arrows and knives, sir! I'll stand in front of them and take the force of their blows."
I remember that... You were always protecting me. I've leaned on you for years, but now you can come lean on me. Sam, my dear.
Yes, I will come. I just have to finish this, Frodo, my love.
In Moria, it hurt me that I couldn't stop to soothe your pain. That blow -- and you just had to get up and keep running.
On the shore of Amon Hen... Had you not turned around to get me, drowning would have been the next best thing.
Oh, Sam, my dear. Of all that would have been lost to the world if I had left you behind, the loss of you would have been the greatest.
I had to go after you, or drown. I just can't live without you. I proved that at Cirith Ungol. I'm not so selfish that I would willingly let the quest fail, but I would have come back. I would have stayed alive to get back and die by your side. That is my place, it's where I belong.
The sound of pen scratching on parchment fills the room for long hours until Sam puts the quill down on the last page, and softly blows the ink dry. The sun is raising itself over the hills in a cascade of reds and yellows.
It's dawn now, Sam, my dear. Is it beautiful?
Yes, Frodo, my love. It's breathtaking.
Are you finished writing? Can I hear it? Just the last lines... I want to know how the chapter of Sam and his Frodo finishes.
Yes, I've finished. I'll never forget the way you looked that night. I've never seen you shine so brightly. And when you turned around and smiled, it took my breath away. Such a feeling of complete and utter love.
I long to see the sunlight in your hair, and kiss your lips a thousand times. I sometimes think my heart will overflow, if I see the pools of your eyes.
It's been so lonely without you here. How can you have a day without a night? I could be so content just hearing the sound of your breath.'
Oh, Sam, my dear. That was beautiful. I'm sorry I hurt you by going away. Don't you know that nothing can tear us apart? You're coming to me now. We'll be together again.
I can't believe I lived so long without you. I thought surely I'd die. But it's over now. I'm coming.
He opens the door and walks out of the study, leaving his quill lying beneath the last line of the Story of Frodo and Sam, ink soaking into the parchment.
'I loved you right from the start.'
I sit beside the fire and think
of people long ago
and people who will see a world
that I shall never know.
But all the while I sit and think
of times there were before,
I listen for returning feet
and voices at the door.
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Much Too Late To Breathe by Monie
Story notes: What to say? My second Tolkien inspired fic. I want to thank LeLe - my beta – who had many wonderful things to say about this story, but this one is really worth quoting:
"lots of times people use the phrase "evil plot bunny" but this one wasn't evil, it was a very nice and elegant and graceful plot bunny, wasn't it? A prima ballerina of a plot bunny."
