Stories of Arda Home Page
About Us News Resources Login Become a member Help Search
swiss replica watches replica watches uk Replica Rolex DateJust Watches

The Multi-Faceted Mr. Frodo  by Gentle Hobbit

Disclaimer: All the settings and characters belong to J.R.R. Tolkien. This story is my way of working out or interpreting ideas and concepts already present in The Lord of the Rings. This is done for enjoyment, and for sharing, but not for profit.

Author's Note: This is a little bit of post-Quest holiday cheer with just a tiny smidgeon of angst. Unlike the other ficlets and drabbles, this one was only posted today at Live Journal. Since it seemed timely, I decided to add it into my ficlet collection immediately.

~ * ~ * ~

 

Candles

"Close your eyes, Mr. Frodo, and just stay where you are." Sam's voice came from the evening-dark hall just outside the study door.

"What is this, Sam?" Frodo asked, although he had obediently closed his eyes. He leaned back in his chair.

Sam did not say a word, but Frodo could hear him moving about, setting some objects on the floor. And then Frodo gasped, for Sam had picked him up, chair and all, and turned him around so that his back was to his desk.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

There was no answer. Sam simply continued to busily arrange... something.

But soon there grew to be a soft glow that Frodo could sense through his closed eyes, and a warmth was all about him.

"Don't move," Sam said softly.

And then Frodo felt his hands taken, clasped gently between Sam's own, and a kiss bestowed upon the cold left one, and then upon the incomplete right. And then they were wrapped around what felt like a waxen candle. After a moment's pause, the glow grew brighter.

"Open your eyes," Sam said.

And Frodo did. In wonderment he looked around him. He was surrounded in candle light. Bowls of water lay at his feet, and small lights floated within. Stools were placed on either side of him, and candles were burning upon those. Either side of his slanted writing board were similarly decorated and behind him at the top of the desk stood three pillar candles. In his hands was a taper.

"This is beautiful, Sam," he said, and marvelled at it all. "You have placed me in a circle of light."

Sam only smiled, but with the rapt expression almost of a child. He knelt down.

"How... why did you do this?" Frodo asked softly.

"The light behind you," said Sam dreamily, "is catching reddish-ginger lights in your hair. The candles in front shine in your eyes, and on your waistcoat."

Frodo looked down, and it was as Sam said. The blue satin of his Yule waistcoat shone deeply and richly.

"You are like a jewel in its setting -- a setting of light."

"Sam?" Frodo was quizzical, for there was a note in Sam's voice that he had not heard before.

"You've always been my light, Mr. Frodo. And, if you will pardon my words, you've always been my light when other lights have gone out."

Frodo laughed a little shakily. Holding onto the candle with one hand, he reached out the other and placed it on Sam's curls.

Sam spoke again. "I think that I shall do this each Yule, if you're willing, sir. It is a fair treat to see. A new tradition, maybe. 1420. A good year to start."

Frodo's smile dimmed a little, but then the moment passed.

"A new tradition, then." And mindful of the candles at his feet and in his hand, Frodo leaned forward and hugged his faithful friend.

"Merry Yule, Sam. Bless you."





<< Back

Next >>

Leave Review
Home     Search     Chapter List