Post by Admin on Jan 9, 2021 1:30:56 GMT
Author: Darkover
Ranking: 3rd place
Summary: Sam feels he has made a big mistake, and gets a sympathetic hearing from an unexpected source.
Rating: K+
After looking into the Mirror of Galadriel, Sam made the unprecedented move of leaving Frodo alone in order to go off on his own and think for a time. The little gardener had no specific destination in mind, but he was troubled by the visions he had seen in the Mirror, and it had made him worry about the people he had left behind. Particularly, one person whom he had left behind. He was so intent on his thoughts that he stumbled a little. A hand reached out to steady him, and a deep, quiet voice spoke to him.
“Does something trouble you, Master Samwise?”
Sam looked up, blinking. It was Strider the Ranger. Since entering the elven-land, the Dunadan’s clothes had been cleaned and mended, and he appeared less grim and more fair. He even smiled and laughed at times. But he was still one of the Big Folk, and thus outside Sam’s experience.
“Are you concerned about Frodo?” the tall Man asked. “He is in no danger here. Frodo is safer in Lothlorien than in any place in all of Middle-Earth.”
Sam shook his head. “No, it’s not my Master. As you say, Strider, he—and all of us—are likely more safe here than anywhere. It’s someone I left behind, if you take my meaning.”
Strider nodded slightly. A clear stream flowed nearby, with a stone bench near it. With a subtle gesture, the Ranger indicated they should sit. It was a bit difficult for Sam, as the bench was higher than he was used to, but he managed it. The tall Man sat beside him, stretching out his long legs. Both were silent for a moment, just listening to the soft, almost inaudible murmur of the water as it flowed past.
“It’s Rosie Cotton,” Sam said at last. “She’s a farmer’s daughter, is Rosie, the daughter of old Farmer Cotton back in the Shire. I’ve always been right fond of Rosie—well, fond may not be the right word. She’s pretty as the day is long, a good hard worker, loves children, and she’s very smart—much smarter than I am, though that’s not saying much. I miss her something terrible, Strider.” He paused, trying to articulate his feelings. “What if she doesn’t wait for me?”
“Does Rosie feel the same about you?”
“I think so. We’ve never talked about specifics, but we’ve had an understanding, the lass and I.” He stopped, as if something had just occurred to him. “At least, I believe we did. I never declared myself too openly, for I wanted to make sure I could support us both, and there seemed to be plenty of time. I mean, nothing ever changes much in the Shire.” He recalled some of the things he had seen in the Mirror of Galadriel, and shuddered. “After what the Lady Galadriel showed us in her looking-glass, though, I’m not sure of anything any more. I think I may have made a big mistake.”
Strider put a hand on the hobbit’s shoulder. “Not everything that appears in the Mirror of Galadriel comes to pass, Sam. Do not berate yourself. You made the right decision in accompanying Frodo.”
The gardener twisted his curly head to look up at his tall companion. “That isn’t what bothers me so, begging your pardon, Strider. It’s how Rosie and I parted. I mean, Mr. Frodo was leaving for foreign parts, though no one but me was supposed to know, and there wasn’t time, really, to say a proper goodbye to Rosie. The lass is going to think I don’t care as much about her as I do, just going off like that. If I could do it all over again…” Sam fell silent for a moment. “Well, anyway, I wish my last words to her before I left were kinder ones. And I wish I’d thought to ask her to wait for me. Nothing fancy, maybe, but I wish I’d had the courage to let her know how I felt, and that I might not be coming back for a long time, but that didn’t mean I don’t—love her.”
His voice broke and he looked away, embarrassed. Surely Strider thought him a fool, and he did not look up, for although Strider sometimes mystified him, Sam could not bear that the Man should think ill of him or scorn him. But he only felt a gentle pressure as his tall companion gave his shoulder a supportive clasp, and that gave Sam the courage to raise his head once more and meet the Dunadan’s gaze.
“Few things are harder than being separated from the woman you love,” Strider told him. His voice was low and intense, his grey eyes clear and direct as he gazed down at Sam. “But I speak with the foresight of my people, Samwise Gamgee: if this quest proves true, so will your hopes for you and Rosie.”
Sam nodded mutely, only half-comprehending the Man’s words. Strider released his shoulder just as Frodo wandered up to join them. The both rose quickly from the bench. Frodo smiled at them both, but it faded a bit as he saw the slightly bemused expression with which his gardener was gazing at the Dunadan.
“Are you all right, Sam?”
“Yes, Mr. Frodo.”
“I should go,” Strider said. “But remember my words, Sam.” He rose, nodding to Frodo, and moved off on his long legs. Frodo turned a questioning gaze to his hobbit friend.
“We were just having a bit of a chat, is all, Mr. Frodo,” Sam said. Although he trusted Frodo more than anyone on earth, Sam did not wish to speak of his feelings and thoughts about Rosie to his Master, for fear that Frodo would feel responsible for taking Sam along on the Quest. So he turned his face away from his Master, to gaze after Strider until the tall Man was well away from them both.
He means well, does old Strider, but he’s a Man, and a Ranger at that. He leads a wandering life, and he knows all sorts of important folk, like Mr. Gandalf, Lord Elrond, and Lady Galadriel. What does Strider know about hobbits? Or life in the Shire?
And I’m sure Strider has never known what it’s like to be apart from the woman you love.
Ranking: 3rd place
Summary: Sam feels he has made a big mistake, and gets a sympathetic hearing from an unexpected source.
Rating: K+
After looking into the Mirror of Galadriel, Sam made the unprecedented move of leaving Frodo alone in order to go off on his own and think for a time. The little gardener had no specific destination in mind, but he was troubled by the visions he had seen in the Mirror, and it had made him worry about the people he had left behind. Particularly, one person whom he had left behind. He was so intent on his thoughts that he stumbled a little. A hand reached out to steady him, and a deep, quiet voice spoke to him.
“Does something trouble you, Master Samwise?”
Sam looked up, blinking. It was Strider the Ranger. Since entering the elven-land, the Dunadan’s clothes had been cleaned and mended, and he appeared less grim and more fair. He even smiled and laughed at times. But he was still one of the Big Folk, and thus outside Sam’s experience.
“Are you concerned about Frodo?” the tall Man asked. “He is in no danger here. Frodo is safer in Lothlorien than in any place in all of Middle-Earth.”
Sam shook his head. “No, it’s not my Master. As you say, Strider, he—and all of us—are likely more safe here than anywhere. It’s someone I left behind, if you take my meaning.”
Strider nodded slightly. A clear stream flowed nearby, with a stone bench near it. With a subtle gesture, the Ranger indicated they should sit. It was a bit difficult for Sam, as the bench was higher than he was used to, but he managed it. The tall Man sat beside him, stretching out his long legs. Both were silent for a moment, just listening to the soft, almost inaudible murmur of the water as it flowed past.
“It’s Rosie Cotton,” Sam said at last. “She’s a farmer’s daughter, is Rosie, the daughter of old Farmer Cotton back in the Shire. I’ve always been right fond of Rosie—well, fond may not be the right word. She’s pretty as the day is long, a good hard worker, loves children, and she’s very smart—much smarter than I am, though that’s not saying much. I miss her something terrible, Strider.” He paused, trying to articulate his feelings. “What if she doesn’t wait for me?”
“Does Rosie feel the same about you?”
“I think so. We’ve never talked about specifics, but we’ve had an understanding, the lass and I.” He stopped, as if something had just occurred to him. “At least, I believe we did. I never declared myself too openly, for I wanted to make sure I could support us both, and there seemed to be plenty of time. I mean, nothing ever changes much in the Shire.” He recalled some of the things he had seen in the Mirror of Galadriel, and shuddered. “After what the Lady Galadriel showed us in her looking-glass, though, I’m not sure of anything any more. I think I may have made a big mistake.”
Strider put a hand on the hobbit’s shoulder. “Not everything that appears in the Mirror of Galadriel comes to pass, Sam. Do not berate yourself. You made the right decision in accompanying Frodo.”
The gardener twisted his curly head to look up at his tall companion. “That isn’t what bothers me so, begging your pardon, Strider. It’s how Rosie and I parted. I mean, Mr. Frodo was leaving for foreign parts, though no one but me was supposed to know, and there wasn’t time, really, to say a proper goodbye to Rosie. The lass is going to think I don’t care as much about her as I do, just going off like that. If I could do it all over again…” Sam fell silent for a moment. “Well, anyway, I wish my last words to her before I left were kinder ones. And I wish I’d thought to ask her to wait for me. Nothing fancy, maybe, but I wish I’d had the courage to let her know how I felt, and that I might not be coming back for a long time, but that didn’t mean I don’t—love her.”
His voice broke and he looked away, embarrassed. Surely Strider thought him a fool, and he did not look up, for although Strider sometimes mystified him, Sam could not bear that the Man should think ill of him or scorn him. But he only felt a gentle pressure as his tall companion gave his shoulder a supportive clasp, and that gave Sam the courage to raise his head once more and meet the Dunadan’s gaze.
“Few things are harder than being separated from the woman you love,” Strider told him. His voice was low and intense, his grey eyes clear and direct as he gazed down at Sam. “But I speak with the foresight of my people, Samwise Gamgee: if this quest proves true, so will your hopes for you and Rosie.”
Sam nodded mutely, only half-comprehending the Man’s words. Strider released his shoulder just as Frodo wandered up to join them. The both rose quickly from the bench. Frodo smiled at them both, but it faded a bit as he saw the slightly bemused expression with which his gardener was gazing at the Dunadan.
“Are you all right, Sam?”
“Yes, Mr. Frodo.”
“I should go,” Strider said. “But remember my words, Sam.” He rose, nodding to Frodo, and moved off on his long legs. Frodo turned a questioning gaze to his hobbit friend.
“We were just having a bit of a chat, is all, Mr. Frodo,” Sam said. Although he trusted Frodo more than anyone on earth, Sam did not wish to speak of his feelings and thoughts about Rosie to his Master, for fear that Frodo would feel responsible for taking Sam along on the Quest. So he turned his face away from his Master, to gaze after Strider until the tall Man was well away from them both.
He means well, does old Strider, but he’s a Man, and a Ranger at that. He leads a wandering life, and he knows all sorts of important folk, like Mr. Gandalf, Lord Elrond, and Lady Galadriel. What does Strider know about hobbits? Or life in the Shire?
And I’m sure Strider has never known what it’s like to be apart from the woman you love.