Chapter Three: Around the Campfire

Evening found the three hobbit lads sitting around a fire, laughing at a story that Merry was telling—he seemed to have completely forgotten his scare that afternoon. "You should have seen cook’s face when she caught me with my arms full of food!" he laughed. "I wasn't allowed to even set foot in the kitchen for a month, and I had to do extra chores for two weeks when my father found out. Don’t know why they were so upset—it was only some carrots and tomatoes and maybe a few other things. It’s not as though they needed any of the food I took. The pantries are huge! So of course I did it all over again once my punishment was up." He grinned impishly. "And this time, I got to eat most of it before they found me." He and Frodo laughed at Sam's appalled face.

"Don't worry, Sam," Frodo reassured him, "it really doesn’t harm anyone to raid the pantries of Brandy Hall every so often. They’ve more than enough food for everyone." Sam looked relieved, and the lads went back to chewing their supper quietly for a while.

After a few minutes, Frodo broke the silence. "Sam, why don't you recite a poem for us?" he asked. "You probably know more poetry than Merry and I put together."

Sam started to protest that he wasn't nearly good enough, but Merry cut him off. "Of course you're good enough, Sam!" he said. "Frodo's right, you know more than either of us ever will!"

Frodo saw that Sam was weakening and added, "Please?"

Sam couldn't resist the pleading blue eyes and sighed defeatedly. "All right, if you really want me to." Both boys nodded vigorously. "But what shall I recite?"

"How about one you make up yourself; you're good at that," Merry suggested. Sam thought for a moment, then stood up and clasped his hands behind his back as though he was in school. He cleared his throat and began so softly that Frodo and Merry had to lean forward to hear it:

"The stars of Varda shine up high,  

Like silver rain drops in the sky.

The Queen of Stars, she put them there

Like jewels to glimmer upon her hair.

Ëarendil sails through the night,

The silmaril shimmering white.

The stars around him brightly glow

To give hope to earth below.

The light of the stars glimmers bright,

To give a wandering traveler light.

In the velvety black of night they lie,

Like silver rain drops in the sky."

He ended and sat back down, looking expectantly at the other two. Merry was gaping open-mouthed at him and Frodo was staring into space, deep in thought. When neither said anything, Sam prompted worriedly, "Well? What did you think? I know it's not very good, but—"

Merry interrupted him. "You wrote that?" he asked incredulously. "Sam, that’s amazing! You’ll be joining Bilbo next, don’t you think, Frodo?" He elbowed his cousin sharply in the ribs.

Frodo was startled out of his euphoria. "I'm sorry, Merry, what did you say?" he asked, blinking.

Sam lowered his eyes and stared fixedly at his plate. "You didn't like it. Well, I...I know it's not the b-"

"Oh, no, no, Sam! That's not it at all!" Frodo exclaimed quickly. "It’s just that it made me think about things..." He trailed off and Sam looked at him curiously.

"Like what, Mr. Frodo?"

Instead of answering, Frodo lay down on his back and gazed up at the stars, both hands clasped behind his head as he had that afternoon cloud-watching, and asked Sam a question in return. "Have you ever realised just how big the sky is, Sam?"

The younger lad lay down next to him and looked up as well. On the other side of Frodo, Merry silently followed suit. "No, I don't think I've given it a whole lot of thought, sir," Sam replied, thoughtfully staring at the stars. "Until now, that is."

Frodo looked sideways at him and smiled. "That’s what your poem made me think about. Oh!" He propped himself up on one elbow. "And I’ve just thought of something else. Uncle Bilbo has been exchanging letters with one of the Elves he met in Rivendell, named Lindir." He paused, waiting for Sam's reaction. The younger hobbit's eyes lit up at the mention of Elves, and he turned his head to stare at him in rapt attention. "Lindir is always asking for new songs from Uncle Bilbo, so he can sing them for the other Elves. You should recite your poem to my Uncle so he could send it to Lindir! I'm sure they would love it!"

Sam nearly choked in surprise. A poem of his? Sung by Elves?! It was too wonderful to even imagine. "I...but...it's not nearly...I mean..." Frodo watched in amusement as Sam tried to explain how he felt. "Oh, but they...they won't like it at all..." He trailed off and looked into Frodo’s eyes, half-afraid to even dare to believe him. "You mean it, sir? My poem? Sung by Elves?"

Frodo laughed. "Of course I mean it! You really do have a talent for making up poems and songs, which I'm sure the Elves can appreciate."

Sam sighed, suddenly indescribably contented and sleepy. "Thank you, Mr. Frodo!" he said earnestly as his eyes started to close, despite his excitement. "I should dearly like to see real Elves someday, and hear them sing. D’you think you could sing a song of theirs before I go to sleep?"

Frodo smiled and wrapped their blankets around Sam and the already sleeping Merry. "Of course. I'll sing the one about Elbereth."

He first put out the fire, cleaned up the remainders of their meal, and then snuggled up under his own blankets. Then he softly chanted,

"A Elbereth Gilthoniel,

silivren penna mìriel

o menel aglar elenath!

Na-chaered palan dìriel

o galadhremmin ennorath,

Fanuilos, lo linnathon

nef aer, sì nef aearon!"

Frodo looked over at the younger boys, both sound asleep. He rolled over on his back and looked up at the stars again. As his eyes began to close, he murmered, "A Elbereth Gilthoniel..." With that, he fell asleep.

TBC...