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Amid The Whispering Trees  by Crystal Gray

Stars shone brightly within the evening, littering the darkness with the light of a thousand fireflies seemingly held aloft forever among the length of the ebony sky. Far in the distance the rush of water flowing along the smooth rocks of its riverbed could be heard as it passed through the tall reeds, out into the depths of the Anduin, lost among the tide. Glowing embers of amber lined the horizon as small fires burned while soldiers and riders gathered round the warmth of their rising flames. Beneath the boughs of the whispering trees many tents stood, harboring weary feet and minds from days long past… from days when long shadows seemed ever present… when the darkest hour had come, only to be passed with victory so near to bitter end. Voices from afar fell upon listening ears while a figure stood guard at the opening of a small tent, glowing with a soft light from the many small candles that burned within, resting in trays of silver on a wooden table, leaning slightly with a broken leg. Hands then came to tired eyes, trying to pass away the desire for a restful sleep. Indeed the night had grown long but so many questions had gone unanswered. A deep yawn then fell over a face worn with scars and pains of war far beyond his young age. Merry breathed in heavily and his eyes turned back to the opening of the tent watching for the faintest bit of movement within. Inside Frodo and Sam slept, side by side upon a soft bed of feather down. Merry then brought his attention away looking to a small shadow that seemed to grow close, accompanied by two men of the city, each bearing a silver helm in their arms. A smile then fell over Merry’s face as the shadow grew into the form of a hobbit, golden autumn brown curls fallen over a tender brow, which hid two soft blue eyes, glowing with the return of a joyous grin.

“Pippin!” Merry replied, making his way to his dear friend, taking him into a gentle embrace. “You should be resting, not coming hither to stand watch with me at such an hour.”

“Aye, that I should.” Pippin said with a laugh that touched Merry like newly fallen rain. “But come now, you can not tell me that the company of a dear friend is not welcomed in the tranquility of this night.”

“That I can not.” Merry smiled bringing Pippin to his side. “So let us spend it away together. Come, rest and talk with me. The evening is still quite young!”

“As young as dear old Bilbo!” Pippin quipped, smiling once again.

“So it is!” Merry replied brightly, pleased with seeing his dear companion in such great spirits once again. They then made their way towards the tent, taking a seat on the cool spring grass before a tiny fire that burned within a circle of stones. Together they shared soft song and ale, while the fire warmed their hearts as the night faded before them, soon drawing them to find slumber under the canopy of the trees.

*******

Darkness still was fallen when Merry opened his eyes, feeling the cool of the night biting at his skin. The fire had slowly begun to fade and he leaned forward looking to Pippin lying peacefully by his side. His hands were folded beneath his head, offering a soft cushion from the ground beneath. A long stick rested next to the circle of stones and Merry took it up into his hand, poking it around the base of the smoldering fire, bringing life to the embers that had grown dim as the hours drew by. Soon small flames rose up into the night as the crackling of small leaves and grass within the fire fell upon Merry’s ears. His sights then shifted to the tent, for a shadow had risen within. Minutes passed as the dark shape stood unmoving and slowly it fell, seemingly resting on its knees. Merry touched his fingers to Pippin and shook him, trying to rouse him from sleep. A soft mumble fell from his lips and Merry pushed his hand harder to Pippin’s shoulder, his eyes opening with a rather stern glance.

“Someone is in there.” Merry whispered lowering his lips close to Pippin’s ear as he pointed a finger to Frodo and Sam’s tent. “I’m going to have a look.” Merry said slowly crawling towards the tent on his hands and knees.

“Not without me.” Pippin said softly, following close behind. Soon they both reached the front opening of the tent looking in from the shadows that hid them away from normal sight. Inside the tent candles still burned, now nubs of wax holding flame with naught but a stem of wick left behind. There kneeling before the bed was Sam. In his hands he held Frodo’s right hand to his brow, his head bowed low in silent prayer. Merry looked to Pippin, his eyes almost wet with tears, for he could see Sam’s own face shadowed in the light of the fire, growing moist from the sorrow that had come forth in the still of the night.

“You suppose everything is alright?” Pippin replied quietly, his eyes meeting with Merry’s.

“I don’t know Pip.” Merry said taking in a deep breath. “A lot has happened to the both of them that we don’t even know about yet.”

“A lot indeed.” Pippin replied with a soft whisper. “What do you suppose happened out there, with Frodo’s hand?”

“Only Frodo or Sam could tell us.” Merry sighed watching as Sam took Frodo’s hand away from his brow before gently caressing it with his fingers. For a moment all was silent and then Pippin spoke up once more trying to arrange himself comfortably against the trunk of a nearby tree.

“I know what I’ve heard.” Pippin quietly remarked. “That Frodo put on the ring and tried to keep it for himself… and that Sam took his sword up into his hand and cut his finger away.”

“Pippin!” Merry sharply snapped lending Pippin a hard hit on his back with his closed fist. “Now where ever did you hear that?”

“Around.” Pippin said with a whimper while rubbing the back of his shoulder.

“Well don’t speak of it no more.” Merry angrily replied. He then stood to his feet and made his way towards the tent trying not to make a sound, while coming closer to watch Sam. Minutes then passed before Pippin followed standing quietly at Merry’s side. Slowly Merry then came forward standing before the opening of the tent when Sam took notice of him, quickly setting Frodo’s hand down upon the coverlet.

“Sorry, Mr. Merry sir!” Sam said backing away from the bed. “I meant no harm. I was just checking on his poor hand is all. Such a shame it was for things to end as they did.”

“Please, Sam just call me Merry.” Merry replied coming inside the tent sitting close to Sam. “After all that we’ve been though together, that is the least I could ask of you to do.”

“Then I will.” Sam smiled looking over Merry’s shoulder noticing Pippin still standing before the opening of the tent. “What about you Mr. Peregrin Took? You care to join us too?” Sam said softly.

“I shall.” Pippin replied looking to Frodo as he lay still upon the bed. His eyes did not open, nor his body falter from where it lay. Still as a rock he was, while shallow breaths fell beyond his lips.

“We should take care not to wake him.” Pippin said coming in and sitting next to Merry upon the grass. “He needs his sleep more than us all.”

“Aye.” Sam sighed pulling his knees close to his chest. “He has been through so much in these last few weeks.”

“As have you.” Merry added putting his hand on Sam’s shoulder.

“True.” Sam said silently. “But I would go through it all again… for Mr. Frodo if you know what I mean.”

“I do.” Merry quietly replied. “If all that has come to pass fell upon me again, I would still take part in it just the same.” A deep silence then fell among them all as Merry and Pippin sat near Sam, watching as his eyes filled with tears while he kept vigil over Frodo as he slept. Pippin then took notice of Sam’s sword, lying near his feet, resting over his clothes that were tattered and torn through the land of Mordor. For an eternity it seemed his eyes were fixed upon that blade as it caught the light of the candles in reflections upon its cold steel. Pippin could feel a lump come high into his throat and then his eyes met up with Sam’s. His face having weathered through hardships untold, his brow scarred with the aftermath of rage. Sam’s eyes grew ridged and he kicked the sword aside, covering it over with a faded tunic dried with blood and soot from the mountain’s fallen ash.

“I didn’t do it, if that’s what yer thinking.” Sam snapped, his face turning red with anger. “I’ve heard others say it, so I know you’ve thought it too. Come on now! Out with it! I know you both have secrets too! We all have fallen weak in this war!” Sam yelled out, causing Frodo to turn over in his sleep. An eerie stillness surrounded them all as they held their breath, fearing Frodo would wake. Moments passed and no movement came again. Sam then placed his chin down on his knees and closed his eyes, pressing tears beyond his lashes and down his weary cheeks.

“Forgive me.” Sam whispered, grasping his hands around his ankles. “It was not my place to say such things.”

“You have the right to say what you wish.” Merry said placing his hand on Sam’s arm.

“Merry’s right.” Pippin said. “I should ask for your forgiveness for imagining such harsh things.”

“Just think of it no more.” Sam replied softly. “I could never do that to him. Not Mr. Frodo. Never in a thousand years. He grew weak in the very end and it took over. Taking him within its grasp. He had no choice other than to do what he did.”

“What was it that he did?” Merry quietly asked, trying to show Sam reassurance with his words.

“Promise me you’ll say nothing.” Sam said bringing his eyes to meet with Merry and Pippin. “These words must stay between us as friends.”

“We promise.” Pippin spoke nodding his head as Merry did the same. Sam then took in a deep breath looking towards his master still lost in restful slumber.

“The ring took him.” Sam whispered. “He claimed it for his own. Set it right on his finger and faded from my sight.”

“How could you let him do that?” Pippin questioned, quickly covering his mouth having spoken without thought.

“How could I?” Sam spoke harshly. “Tell me that these do not show how I fought to keep him alive as far as I did!” Sam said turning over his arms, showing Pippin and Merry the many scrapes and gashes that covered his tanned skin. “These bruises upon my arms and the ones that were left from fingers wrapped tight about my neck speak for themselves. And see…” Sam replied taking his hand to his brow pushing away his curls still stained from his blood. “This scar was not wielded by my master, nor by my own fault. You can not imagine the pain I suffered having to watch and not being able to do nothing to save him!” Sam then grew silent, his eyes closing for a moment as he breathed in deeply.

“Had it not been for Gollum, it would have all been for nothing. Frodo would have been consumed fully by the ring in the bitter end.” Sam replied with a tender sigh.

“Gollum?” Pippin asked. “The same creature that Bilbo met in the caves?”

“One and the same.” Sam replied. “He led us all the way to Mordor and almost cost us our lives. But had it not been for Frodo and I, staying our hands when we so wished to run him through on our swords, he would not have been there to save Frodo. He is the one who took his finger from his hand.”

“How?” Merry said puzzled.

“He brought his finger up into his jaws and bit down taking the ring, and Frodo’s finger from his hand while he was deep within his madness after claiming it for his own.” Sam replied quietly. “Gollum fell back into the fires of that mountain with the thing still in his grasp, thus ending with his precious. Frodo had said that if he ever touched him again, he would be cast into the fires out Mount Doom and so it was, just as he had foretold. Serves him right, the vile creature that he was.” Sam then fell into silence once more saying not another word while tears began to fall along his face. Merry sighed and then looked to Pippin nodding his head towards the opening of the tent.

“We should leave.” Merry replied softly. “Rest Sam. Your heart will find comfort in peaceful slumber, far from the memory of the past.” Merry stood to his feet as did Pippin while his eyes fell back on Sam.

“No other could have lasted so long as Frodo.” Pippin said quietly. “And he could not have made it so far without you.” Pippin then took leave while Sam looked up, a soft smile on his lips. Merry smiled in return and then left as Sam gathered himself together standing slowly up to his feet. Carefully he made his way back to the bed, sitting near the edge as not to disturb Frodo as he brought himself beneath the silken covers. Sam closed his eyes, thinking of the Shire and his garden below the study window of Bag End. A warmth filled him within and then he felt a hand touch his brow and he opened his eyes looking into those of his master, a smile full upon his face.

“Thank you Sam.” Frodo whispered. “I couldn’t have been so strong telling them as you did.”

“Mr. Frodo?” Sam said. “You heard it all?”

“I did.” Frodo replied. “I was awake the whole time. Just playing opossum as your Gaffer would say.”

A sly smile fell over Sam’s lips and he laughed to himself as Frodo closed his eyes once more.

“Sam…” Frodo said softly.

“Yes, Mr. Frodo?”

“Thank you again.”

“For what Mr. Frodo?”

“Just for being there. And for not leaving me then, nor now at the very end.”





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