A/N: I am sorry that it has been so long since I last posted.  Looking back at the reviews for the last chapter, I see that there are some that I never responded to - most of them from back in February!  Since it’s been so long, I’m probably not going to reply to them this time, but I would like to say once again that I treasure all of your comments (with special thanks to those of you who have reviewed very often).  They continue to be a source of great encouragement for me.

There is one more chapter left.  I don’t think it will take terribly long to complete.  Life has been full since the last time I posted here, which tends to drain my creative energy.  Things have slowed down for the time being so I have reason to hope.

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Chapter 17: A Change in the Weather

When Sam awoke in the morning he was pleased to find that he felt somewhat better in both body and in spirit.  He limbs remained tired and achy but his sickness seemed to have lessened, and for the first time in many days, his dreams had been uneventful.

One glance around the shallow cave told Sam that he was the last to awaken.  Boromir, Pippin and Gandalf were on watch.  Merry and Frodo were stirring something in the pot atop the firepit.  Strider was taking an inventory of his supply of medicines and bandages, and Gimli was inspecting his chainmail.  As for Legolas, he was sitting cross-legged near Sam, balancing a tin cup of tea on his open palms.  Sam was pleased to see that he was fully dressed and looking much more like his old self, though it did appear as though his mind was miles away.

Legolas stirred when he saw Sam move.  “Aur bein,” he said.

“Good morning,” Sam replied softly.  The others had all turned to look at him, and he felt suddenly shy, remembering how he had broken down so completely the night before.

“Sam!  How are you feeling?” asked Strider.  “Better, I hope.”

Sam nodded.

“Your throat?  And the cough?”

“Not so bad yet.”

“We shall see how you do as the day wears on.  You should keep drinking my tea.”

Sam sighed.  “Begging your pardon, but it tastes awful.”

“If it did not, it would not be medicinal,” said Strider, his eyes twinkling.

“All medicine tastes bad,” agreed Pippin from his place at the edge of the rock overhang. 

“And what do you know?  It is already brewed and waiting,” said Frodo, who promptly began pouring the now-familiar greenish tea into a cup.

“Lucky me,” said Sam.

Frodo chuckled.  “And a good morning to you, too!”

Sam took the offering and resignedly sipped at it, studying the rest of the Fellowship above the rim as he did so.  Everyone seemed to be in high spirits.  They were all smiling at him, even Gimli, who was trying not to be too open about it.  Sam was warmed by their concern for him, but he couldn’t quite share their good cheer, for there was still the matter of his secret.  He had already concluded that the company ought to know that he had considered giving Frodo up, for the information affected them all and might alter Gandalf’s plans.  The difficulty lay in getting up the courage to do it.

The company was waiting for Sam to speak, but he was at a loss for words.  The only thing he could think about was his impending confession, and he was not prepared to give it yet.  But what could he talk about that did not touch on his captivity?  Sam was all too aware of his separateness from the rest of the Fellowship.  He was not the same hobbit he had been prior to the flood, and only Legolas had seen him through that change.

A few moments of awkward silence passed until Strider came to the rescue.  “If your health continues to improve, I think we will be ready to move on tomorrow.”

“Already?” said Sam, turning to look at Legolas.  “I mean – yes, I will be all right, but are you well enough, sir?”

“I grow stronger with each passing hour,” said Legolas.  “I am perfectly able to walk.”  He lowered his voice to the barest of whispers so that only Sam could have heard his next words.  “And stop calling me ‘sir’.”  The twitch at one corner of his mouth was enough to show that he was not angry.

Sam supposed that Legolas would hold him to his promise to discuss Jakov at greater length – and soon.  Well, thought Sam, he’ll hear more than he bargained for, that’s certain!  He had mulled a few things over after weeping away his pent-up sorrows, one of which was the notion of telling Legolas his news before telling everyone else.  Legolas had proved to be a willing ear and confidant, and he understood the ordeal better than anyone else could, though that still wouldn’t make telling him easy.  His kind words of the night before had cut Sam like a knife; and then, when Legolas had insisted that Sam deserved his respect, Sam had felt that knife twist most cruelly.  The Elf couldn’t have known that he was causing pain, and Sam didn’t blame him for it.  The problem now was that letting Legolas down was going to hurt all the more.  What if Legolas wished his words unsaid?

“In truth, I feel ready to leave now,” said Legolas, raising his voice so that everyone could hear.  “We have already lost nearly a week of time on this river.”

“Don’t let the delay concern you,” said Gandalf.  “Our Fellowship remains whole and the immediate threat has been dealt with – mostly.  There is no need to hurry today unless the Nazgul suddenly appear at our backs.”

“I could go now, too,” said Sam.  “Really.”

“Not until tomorrow,” said Strider.  “The rest will do you good.”

Sam tried offering again, for he thought he really was well enough to walk at least a few miles, but Strider and Gandalf refused, saying that it was better to remain in such shelter as they had while Sam and Legolas recovered.  Thus it was that Sam found himself with a whole day on his hands.  He still did not feel much like talking to the others, at least not until he was ready to break his news, but he did not feel the need to completely remove himself from their company as he had done the day before.  Sam felt a twinge of embarrassment when he thought of how coldly he had behaved, but no one seemed to be holding a grudge.

Sam kept himself busy while trying to find the courage to speak with Legolas and occasionally managed to forget his troubles.  Going through his recovered pack gave him pleasure and he spent nearly an hour scratching Bill’s ears, who was appreciative of the attention.  Yet when these pleasant tasks had been completed, Sam grew increasingly restless.  He could not forget his obligations when the rest of the company kept firing encouraging looks in his direction.  Frodo’s glances were the keenest of all, almost as if he suspected something.

The midday meal was hours gone before Sam had finally had enough of waiting.  Joining Legolas’ company was easy; like Sam, he had mostly eschewed conversation, and the others had only disturbed him when necessary.  When Sam approached he was engaged in the same activity he had been at for most of the day: the painstaking inspection of his arrows.

Legolas lowered the arrow he had been scrutinizing and looked Sam in the eye.  “You have been waiting,” he observed.  “Perhaps I should have come to you.”

“No,” said Sam.  “I’ve only just decided.”  His eyes roamed over the two piles of arrows – one on Legolas’ left and one on his right.  He could hardly believe how long it was taking for Legolas to sort through them, but he held his tongue.  Remarking on it would have been impolite.

“I suppose I am being a bit thorough, but it seemed as good a way to pass the time as any,” said Legolas.  “However, this one does need to be checked carefully.”  He held up the arrow between his fingers.  “It struck a boulder instead of its intended target.”

Brund, thought Sam.  His stomach squirmed a little at the thought of those missiles being wrenched out of the dead Men’s bodies.  “Why didn’t you just leave them?”

“I have supplies for the making of arrows,” said Legolas, “but such work requires time and care and is not easily done in our circumstances.  I cannot afford to leave them in the bodies of the fallen – not if they can be retrieved.  Boromir and Gimli fetched these for me.”

Sam made a face.

“It is a gruesome task,” Legolas admitted, “but time and practice makes the job somewhat less distasteful.”

Sam didn’t answer.  He didn’t think that he ever wanted to get to the point where he no longer found such a thing to be unpleasant.

Legolas glanced toward the rest of the company, looking pensive.  Sam thought he could guess at his thoughts.  The others could hardly help overhearing what was said, being only a short distance away.

“Shall we step outside?” Legolas asked pointedly.

“Please,” said Sam.

Despite Legolas’ insistence that he was feeling better, Sam watched closely as the Elf got to his feet.  His eyes went immediately to the upper left side of Legolas’ back and found little evidence that his companion had been shot at all.  The old blood had been washed out of the fabric, and Frodo had stitched up the damage made by the arrow and Strider’s blades.

Once he was up, Legolas turned to look at the Fellowship yet again.  Sam followed his gaze just in time to see Gandalf raise one eyebrow and give the slightest nod of his head.

“He’s not worried about our going out, then?” Sam asked in a near-whisper.

“I would not say that,” Legolas whispered back.  “He has done something to safeguard us.  A warding of some kind, perhaps.”

Sam reflexively looked down at his body.  He didn’t feel any different – no tingling, no excess warmth or cold – but was odd, knowing that Gandalf had done something to him.  Or perhaps he had done it to the whole campsite!  In Sam’s opinion, acts of magic should be accompanied by noise or flashes of light.  At least then he would know that something had happened.

Whatever it was that Gandalf had done, Sam was not about to step into the open unarmed.  He silently gathered his Dagger of Westernesse, which he kept very close now, and found that Legolas was girding himself in similar fashion.  Feeling suddenly nervous, Sam rose and picked his way around the packs and bedrolls to the edge of the overhang.  Legolas followed…

…and together they stepped into a world of hushed splendor.  Every surface was covered in a thick blanket of white that seemed to brighten the wan sunlight.  The air was cold and smelled sharply of frost.  There was no wind, and little sound could be heard save the river nearby.

Sam had seen many a snowfall in the Shire, and the scene he now beheld was as tranquil as any he had ever witnessed.  The wildness of the gorge had been tamed by its new clothing.  It was hard to believe, he thought, that the same river had been the site of death and despair just a few days gone.

“Snow makes all things seem new,” Legolas sighed.

Sam did not respond.  It seemed as if even talking about the beauty around him would taint it somehow.

Legolas pointed to a nearby boulder.  “Shall we sit?”

“You’re that tired?” said Sam, surprised.

“Nay!  Do not worry about me; I am no longer feeling so sluggish.  It is only that our conversation will likely be weighty, and difficult to hold while pacing.”  Sam could not deny this, and a few moments later he found himself perched atop the freshly-swept boulder with Legolas on his left side.  A blanket spread over the stone kept some of the bone-deep cold from reaching his skin.

With the long-dreaded moment nearly upon him, Sam was feeling exceptionally alert.  Even his skin seemed to vibrate in anticipation of what was to come.  It was akin to what he had felt upon standing at the edge of the cliff and looking straight down.  Garan’s intrusion of his mind had also produced a similar effect.  Sam could only suppose that nothing heightened one’s awareness like impending doom. 

Sam and Legolas sat in silence for what felt like quite some time.  Sam was struggling to find the right way to begin; in some ways, taking this particular plunge was harder than jumping from the cliff had been.  He really hadn’t had much choice then – going back into Garan’s hands hadn’t been an option – but that wasn’t the case now.  He’d done nothing irreparable until he opened his mouth.  It was so hard to take the leap!

“Your health truly does seem to be improving.”

“Oh,” Sam muttered.  “Yes.”

“You have not been coughing as much today.  Your throat is better?”

“A little.”

“To my eye, you are still weary.  I am sure that if you need more rest, Mithrandir will –”

“I don’t want to stay here any longer.  I want to leave.”

The words were brusque, and for a moment Legolas was silenced, but then he nodded.  “I am not surprised.  I also wish to go and never return.  This river will ever be a place of darkness for me – and for you, I should imagine.”

That was as perfect an opening as Sam knew he would get.  As he gathered his courage a voice in his head gibbered at him to reconsider, but he quashed it ruthlessly.  It was time.

“I’ve something to tell you.”

Legolas blinked.  Clearly, this was not what he had been expecting Sam to say.  Then he took in Sam’s drawn face and his eyes darkened.  “It is Garan, is it not?  What has he done that I do not already know?”

Sam was gratified by Legolas’ obvious anger on his behalf, but this time it had been misplaced.  “It’s not Garan.  It’s me.”

“What?”

Sam hunched his shoulders.  “I….”  He faltered for a moment, grimacing.  He had to make the words come.  “I’m not so brave as you think, sir.”

Legolas was apparently mystified enough to overlook the fact that Sam had called him ‘sir’ again.  Still, he regrouped speedily, and his face took on a soothing expression that made Sam feel ill.  Oh, how he was going to disappoint everyone!  “I doubt that very much,” the Elf said simply.

“You shouldn’t.”

“There is nothing you can say that –”

“I thought about giving up Mr. Frodo,” Sam interjected.

Legolas froze in mid-sentence.  His eyes searched Sam’s face while the hobbit’s heart began to sink – slowly at first, then faster as Legolas continued to gaze at him in silence.  It was as he had feared; Legolas was disillusioned with him at last.  Telling himself that it had been necessary was no consolation.

After what seemed like an eternity, Legolas’ features grew calm.  What he said next was entirely unexpected.

“When?”

All other emotions vanished in the wake of Sam’s astonishment.  That was Legolas’ response?  Not ‘What’ or ‘Why’ or ‘How could you’, but ‘When’?  And he seemed completely unruffled to boot!  Dazed, Sam replied, “At the end.  When Garan got into my head, and the trees woke up.”

“I see.”

Anger replaced surprise with lightning speed.  “That’s all you’re going to say?  ‘I see’?”

Legolas’ brows furrowed.  “I was not necessarily finished, but I had not yet thought of what else to say.  Would you have me be angry with you?”

That Legolas appeared to be genuinely confused only stirred Sam’s ire.  “You….  This is important!” he spluttered.

“I am sorry,” said Legolas, who now looked embarrassed.  “I had not meant to imply that I thought otherwise.”  His eyes suddenly locked with Sam’s.  “You did not tell him?” he asked urgently.

“Of course not!”

Legolas exhaled with obvious relief.  “Then how have I offended you?  I do not understand.”

“I thought about giving him up!” Sam exclaimed.  How else could he explain it?

Utterly flummoxed, Legolas stared right back at Sam.  He seemed to weigh his next words very carefully.  “But… you did not.”

“No!”

“Then why are you upset?  You have done Frodo no harm.”

Sam had no rejoinder; if Legolas could not see why this mattered, then there was nothing he could do to make him comprehend it.  Frustrated, hurt, and angry, he felt his face beginning to grow red.  This was not going at all the way he had thought it would.

Legolas’ mystified frown abruptly melted.  “Ah, I think I….  You do not see it the same way, do you?”

“Mr. Frodo has to know he can count on me,” Sam said quietly.  Now that Legolas was clear, he could feel his anger swiftly ebbing away into a low, throbbing ache.

“But he can count on you,” Legolas said firmly.

Sam forgave Legolas his thick skull for the kindness of that affirmation even though he knew what was coming next.  Legolas was going to try to convince him that thoughts of betrayal weren’t as awful as all that, but Sam knew better.

“Do not be so hard on yourself!  Think of what you were facing.  You would have had to be devoid of all feeling not to at least entertain the notion of succumbing.”

“Would you have thought about it?” Sam demanded.

“You must stop putting me on a pedestal.  If you do, I am bound to disappoint.”

“You haven’t failed me yet.”

Legolas laughed mirthlessly.  “Oh?  I was unsuccessful in reaching the right side of the river.  I misjudged the danger posed to us by the Men.  I should have listened to you when you suggested that we swim to avoid them.  I could not stop their mistreatment of you, and you very nearly drowned during our escape.”  He shuddered and looked away.

Sam didn’t like the turn that the conversation had taken.  Listening to Legolas indulge in self-recrimination could not be borne.  “I told you yesterday, you couldn’t help any of that.  You did the best you could.”

“Then how is your situation any different from mine?  We are critical of ourselves, but not of each other.”

Sam shook his head.  These so-called failures were in an entirely different realm than his own.  How could he make Legolas acknowledge what he didn’t want to see?  “For a moment – just one – I thought about it.  I really thought about it, and it doesn’t feel right that I should’ve.”

“All the more reason for Frodo to feel secure in his choice of bodyservant,” Legolas insisted.  “Turning away from something that you do not want in the first place is easy.  The difficulty lies in holding to your path when the temptation to stray is very real.”

Sam opened his mouth to retort… and hesitated.  Was it possible that Legolas was right?  He had denied Garan what he wanted most, and Frodo was still safe.  Whatever he’d considered, things would have been much worse if he had chosen to follow through.  He hated that he’d considered it at all, but he’d held fast even under threat of torture.

Sam knew what he had to do.  It wasn’t enough that Legolas held him blameless or even that he might – just might – be able to forgive himself.  “I have to tell Mr. Frodo,” he said aloud.

“If it will ease your conscience,” said Legolas, “but I would wager much that he will think no less of you for it.”

“We’ll see then, won’t we?” said Sam.  Legolas’ face reproached him for continuing to doubt, but he did not press the point any further.

Silence fell, and before long Sam was alone in his mind again.  He was feeling rather off-balance.  He had been certain that there was nothing Legolas could say to make him feel any better, but now he found himself daring to hope that Frodo would forgive him.  Legolas seemed so certain that he would.  No matter what the Elf said regarding his actions over the past few days, Sam still had faith in his judgment.

Once again it was Legolas who broke the stillness.  “I never did thank you properly for saving my life.”

It was as Sam had suspected; Legolas did want to discuss Jakov.  “It’s nothing you wouldn’t’ve done if it’d been me instead of you,” he said.

Legolas shook his head.  “That may be so, but it is not the same thing.  You are not accustomed to bloodshed.”

Sam looked away when he saw the expression on Legolas’ face.  He didn’t think he could bear the weight of all that compassion again.  “I wouldn’t have left you to die.  I’d feel a sight worse than I do now if I’d done nothing and those Men had hurt you.”

“I wish to say that –”

“Please don’t,” said Sam, pained.

Legolas’ face was the picture of frustration, but he refused to be silenced.  “I have not the words to express my gratitude, but you must….  I beg of you, let me try!  My thanks and friendship are all I have to give you, and they do not seem sufficient.”

Sam smiled thinly.  “It’s more than enough.  Never thought I’d be real friends with an Elf, and that’s the truth.”

“In this wilderness I can do no more than accompany you on your path,” said Legolas, “but when our Quest is over, I will ensure that all of Eryn Galen is at your service – provided that I survive to carry the tale home, that is.”

Something in that statement signaled a warning in Sam’s ear.  “What do you mean, carry the tale home?” he asked querulously.

“The Shire is not far from where my people dwell.  I wish you to be able to come to them should you ever be in need, and they must know who you are if that can be.”  Legolas laughed suddenly.  “Besides, my father will not keep silent when he learns of this!  Your name may become as well known as that of Bilbo Baggins.”

It had taken all of a heartbeat for Sam’s stomach to turn ice-cold.  “Then please, don’t tell him!” he cried.

Legolas’ demeanor grew solemn.  “Very few manage to gain my father’s trust these days, whether they are Elf or mortal.  I am dear to him, and he will want to show his gratitude – as do I.  Is this proposition truly so awful?  I know you are modest, but –”

Sam seized Legolas’ arm with one hand, stopping him in mid-sentence.  He had to explain before the Elf got himself all turned around again.  “It’s not that I’d not value your father’s goodwill.  I’d be honored, to be sure, but it sounds like you think he’ll make some sort of pronouncement, and then your folk’ll be thinking I’m something I’m not.  If you must say something, can’t you just say that I helped you – that we helped each other?”

By the time Sam had finished, Legolas appeared to have resigned himself to the situation.  “If it is truly your wish that my people should know nothing at all of the matter, then I will honor it,” he said.  “I would not have my gratitude become a burden to you.  Even so, you should know that my captains must hear the full tale of this incident.  I am duty-bound to report all threats to our realm.”

Sam blinked.  “Brund?”

“Yes.  I was captured by servants of Saruman, one of which lived to carry word of my escape back to his master.”

“But you didn’t give your right name.  You think he’d still be able to tell…?”

“The White Wizard knows much – and sees much, judging by what I learned at the Council.  Should Brund reach him, he may quickly discover who ‘Legolas Ilantharion’ really was.”

A sudden, terrible realization seized Sam.  If Saruman could figure out who Legolas was, than that meant….  “You don’t think he’d go to the Shire?” he gasped.

“Possibly, but I think Saruman would turn to Eryn Galen should retaliation be on his mind.  Your gentle people pose no threat to him; you and your companions are the only hobbits he need fear at present.  Only when all others have fallen will he look to the Shire… or so I guess.”

“Oh, I wish you’d shot Brund!” cried Sam.  The moment the words passed his lips, he felt something lurch within him.  There he went, thinking those awful thoughts again.  Just a few days gone he’d wished some of the other Men dead, too.

“Are you well?” Legolas asked.  “Suddenly, you do not look it.”

“Proper hobbits don’t wish for things like that,” Sam murmured.

Legolas watched Sam closely for a long minute.  “Your actions still trouble you,” he said at length.

Sam sighed.  “Maybe you’re right.  Maybe they shouldn’t, but –”

“Why should they not?” said Legolas, moving swiftly to interrupt.  “You are a hobbit, and a gardener besides.  Surely you have not thought much on killing before now.”

“I’ve thought about it some,” said Sam, a trifle defensively.  “I saw enough on the road to Rivendell to know this business wouldn’t be neither neat nor tidy, but for sure I didn’t think I’d be doing much killing.  That’s what you Big Folk are for.”  He raised his eyes to Legolas’ face, briefly remembering how he’d looked during his rampage – very different from the composed Elf that sat next to him now.  Frightening was the only word for it.

“I knew I might be killed if I went on this Quest,” Sam continued.  “After all, Mr. Frodo’s got some right awful things chasing him.  It’s being captured I never thought of!  Nothing to do but wait and be afraid….  I don’t want to go through that again.  We’re very lucky to have got away at all.”

“There was a good deal more than luck to it,” said Legolas.

Sam looked away.  “There you go again, telling me I’m brave.  I didn’t feel brave then and I don’t feel brave now – leastways, not about what I did to Jakov.  I was just so mad, that’s all!  They were hurting you for fun.”  Just thinking about the Men and their smug cruelty was enough to make him angry again.  “It was wrong of them, and I had to try to stop it, but even so… killingone of them!  Maybe he deserved to die, but it doesn’t feel right.  We don’t kill in the Shire, Legolas.  We just don’t.”

Abruptly Sam realized that he was not taking the trouble to keep his voice down.  He and Legolas were not at all far from camp, and the company might be able to hear him.  Well, perhaps that wasn’t such a bad thing.  He still hadn’t figured out how he was going to tell Frodo, Merry and Pippin about his part in the escape, and this was one way to do it.

“Your people are fortunate to have dwelt so long in a land of peace,” said Legolas.  “I do not think there is any place like it in all the world; not even Imladris and Lothlorien enjoy such tranquility, and they are… protected.”

Sam felt a sudden rush of gratitude for Strider and his brethren.  They watched over the borders of the Shire, and it was largely through their vigilance that hobbits remained isolated from Middle-earth.  A few months ago Sam would not have believed that such protection was necessary, but now he knew that the world outside the Shire could be very hard indeed.

“My people do not live by your mores,” Legolas continued.  “We cannot, or we would have perished long ago.  Our lives are bought with the deaths of spiders, orcs, and Men.”

Sam could not fathom what it would be like to constantly fight for survival at home.  “How can you stand it?”

Legolas shrugged.  “Killing spiders and orcs causes me no heartache, for they are bent upon the destruction of all free peoples.  As for Men….  They are not born under the shadow of evil as orcs are, and slaying them can cause green warriors great pain.  My first such kill was many years ago now, and it shook me terribly, but I have learned to distance myself from those who must die by my hand.”  He paused, and Sam guessed that he was choosing his words carefully.  When he spoke again, his voice was rough.  “It is well that you feel regret for Jakov, whether or not he deserves it.  You have not a warrior’s calloused heart, and I… I hope that you can remain so.”  He blinked several times in rapid succession and looked away.

Sam knew Legolas well enough by now to recognize a compliment in this sudden show of sentiment.  Legolas seldom loosed his emotions save in Strider’s company – and in Gimli’s, though there was no warmth in the latter case.  Any such openness, Sam now knew, was a sign of trust on Legolas’ part.

“I hate them for what they wanted to do to you,” said Sam, “and I’m not used to hating anyone, so I hate them all the more for that.”  Legolas smiled off in another direction, and Sam had the feeling that he was trying to regain his composure.  “But I still feel sorry for them – at least a little.  How unhappy they must have been!  Most of all I hate that this had to happen.  I couldn’t have left you like that, but I can’t help but wish there’d been another way.”

“Perhaps there was no other way,” Legolas mused.  “And perhaps you may find yourself needing to kill again ere we are through, but be assured that those of us here who are not hobbits are quite prepared to shoulder that job for as long as we can.”

“There’s no denying I’ve no taste for killing, but that doesn’t seem fair,” said Sam.  “Anyway, oughtn’t we to be getting used to it?  It’s a long way yet to Mordor.”

Legolas’ eyes fell upon Sam once more.  “Oh, my friend, I would not worry about that.  I have already seen what you can do under duress – you and Merry and Pippin and Frodo.  Three of you have already drawn blood.  You will be able to do it again no matter how much you loathe it, for you cannot break the bonds between you, and we cannot allow our Quest to fail.”

We cannot allow our Quest to fail.  Sam’s heart resonated with these words, reminding him that he had yet to make something right – or at least try.  There was still no telling how the company would react to his tale; Legolas was not upset with him, but he was an Elf, and Big Folk could be perplexing.

“I think I’d like to have done with this mess,” said Sam.

“You still mean to speak with Frodo?”

Sam nodded.  “Best to get it over with.  A quick cut, if you understand me.”

“That sounds wise.”

They slid off the boulder and stood up.  Legolas took up the blanket and shook it free of snow.  Meanwhile, Sam watched the company.  Every single one of them had turned to look, and he took their quick notice as evidence that they had been listening, or trying to.

“I’m afraid to do it,” Sam admitted.

“It will not be as bad as you think,” Legolas said gently.  “You will see.”

“I hope you’re right.  Let’s go.”

The Fellowship watched as Sam and Legolas made their way back to the overhang.  Sam was conscious of the scrutiny, but he kept his eyes on Frodo.  The crunching of his feet on the snow was unusually loud in his ears.

Sam reached the edge of the shelter and stopped.  “Mr. Frodo, there’s something I need to tell you.”  When Frodo said nothing, he went on.  Goodness, how his pulse was racing!  “I told you that Garan didn’t believe Legolas and me were on our own.”

Frodo nodded.  “I remember.”

“And he kept asking about hobbits when he… questioned me.”

“You said you didn’t tell him anything, and I believe you,” said Frodo, smiling warmly.

“But I didn’t tell you everything, sir.”  Frodo’s smile slipped a little, and Sam plunged on.  He was afraid to stop lest he be unable to start again.  As steadily as he could manage, he told Frodo how Garan had been prepared to torture him to get what he wanted.  “It only stopped because Legolas woke the trees up.  I suppose he’s told you about that already.”  Sam glanced up at Legolas, who nodded back at him.  “Mr. Frodo, I… I thought about telling him what he wanted.”

Looks of surprise dawned on several faces.  Frodo said nothing.

Sam clasped his hands before him.  “I’ve never been so scared in my life, sir – not on Weathertop, and not when I was in the river.  But that doesn’t excuse it.  We can’t none of us give you up, not for anything, and you’ve got to be able to trust us.  If you… want me to go back to Rivendell, I’ll understand.”  He averted his gaze, unable to look at Frodo’s still face any longer.

Frodo stood up.  “Come here, Sam.”

Sam’s heart sank.  “Sir –”

“Come here, if you please.”

Filled with trepidation, Sam dragged himself to where Frodo stood.  Now it was coming – the moment he had been dreading for the past three days.  Steeling himself for the worst, he raised his head to look Frodo in the eye… and found himself being embraced.

“I don’t care, Sam,” said Frodo.  “Do you hear me?  You’re back, you’re safe, and that’s all that matters.”

Sam could hardly believe what he was hearing.  “But, sir –”

“I heard what you said.  Of course you would have at least thought about giving me up.  It’s what that Man wanted, wasn’t it?  That’s how you could have saved yourself.”

“I –”

“But you didn’t, did you?  Think of what the Gaffer always said.”  And to Sam’s astonishment, Frodo released him and did his best impression of the Gaffer.  “ ‘Your word’s nothin’ but hot air, Sam, if’n you don’t follow it through.’ ”

Gandalf chuckled softly, and Merry and Pippin laughed together.  “That’s the Gaffer, all right!”

Frodo beamed at his cousins for a moment before turning back to Sam.  “You promised to help me see this thing through to the end, and I know you mean to keep your word.  I never imagined you would have to try holding to it under threat of torture.”  Frodo’s expression grew sad.  “Dear Sam!  I won’t have you doubting yourself; you are the truest friend anyone could ask for.”  He put his hands on either side of Sam’s face, drew him close, and kissed him on each cheek.  “You’ve done nothing that needs forgiveness from anyone here.  Now, let’s have no more talk of your going away.  I’ve only just got you back again, and I can’t face this road without you.”

Tears were pricking at the corners of Sam’s eyes.  Legolas had been right after all; Sam could feel self-satisfaction rolling off him in waves.  In mere moments his heart had gone from leaden to feather-light, and now it seemed to be trying to float right out of his body.  There remained only one piece of the tale still to be told, and then it would be over!

“There’s one more thing, sir,” said Sam.  “I killed a Man.”

Frodo smiled gently.  “I know.”

Sam blinked.  “You do?”

“We all do,” Boromir put in.

Sam looked up at Legolas again, but the Elf shook his head.  Puzzled, he turned back to the others.  If Legolas had not told them, then how…?  Then he remembered.  “I s’pose I wasn’t talking too softly just now,” he said.

The hobbits were suddenly looking at Sam with expressions that could only be called sympathetic, and the Big Folk seemed to be working very hard at keeping their faces still.  They could not have indicated any more clearly that they had a tale of their own to tell, and they were not eager to do it.

It was Frodo who took it upon himself to explain.  “We heard snatches of what you said, but that’s not how we know.  We saw it.”

Sam’s eyes widened in shock.  “You what?”

“We saw most of what happened to you, just before the two of you jumped into the river,” said Frodo.

Sam listened in stunned silence while Frodo related the circumstances by which the Fellowship had come to find them.  Knowing that such a thing had happened cast everything in a new light.  He and Legolas had been fighting for their lives, and the others had been watching from across the river?  It was almost unfathomable!

When he had finished, Frodo took both of Sam’s hands in his.  “I am sorry that we didn’t tell you sooner,” he said, “but we just didn’t know how.  You were already so upset, and we were afraid that if you knew….  Well, we didn’t help you, did we?”

Sam found his voice at last.  “Bless me, Mr. Frodo!  You thought I’d be angry?”

“Of course I did,” Frodo replied.  “No matter why we did it, you deserved better from us.”

“Oh, sir!  I’d never’ve thought you’d just abandon us.  If you didn’t help, I expect it’s because you couldn’t.”

Frodo suddenly looked uneasy, and Sam grew confused. “Sir?” he asked timidly.

“Oh, by the stars!” Gandalf exclaimed irritably.  “I will explain this clearly, so we may be done with it.  It was my decision to abandon you to your fate.  Anything I might have done could have attracted the Enemy’s notice, and I would not put the Ring-bearer in danger.  I cannot blame you if this angers you, but I will not apologize for it.  Did I have to make the decision again, I would not change my mind.  Frodo – comes – first.”

The gravity of this statement settled over the company like a heavy blanket, rendering them all temporarily silent.  Frodo might be the center about which the Fellowship revolved, but Gandalf was its undisputed leader, and he had just said quite plainly that any one of them could be discarded if it meant ensuring Frodo’s success.  Sam already knew this and suspected that the others did too, but they had never actually discussed it, and it was not easy to hear.

“I am sorry,” Frodo said softly, “sorrier than I can say.  I think you’ve rather put us to shame, Sam.  You didn’t leave Legolas behind when you had the chance to run.  You helped him though it must have cost you dearly, and we didn’t even try to help you.  Maybe our decision was the right one, but the fact remains that we left you.  I left you.”

Sam’s head cleared quickly in the wake of Frodo’s self-blame.  “No, sir.  Gandalf’s right; the Ring makes the difference.  You had it, and me and Legolas didn’t.  It would’ve been foolish to put yourself in danger for us.”

“Sam!” cried Frodo.  “You are my dear friend, and more important to me than any Ring.”

“Mr. Frodo, don’t say that!  You’ve got the rest of Middle-earth to think of.”

“Careful,” Gimli growled.  “What if that fellow is still lurking about?”

“I agree.  Let us speak no more of jewelry,” said Gandalf.  “It is not safe!”

Frodo flushed.  “You are right, of course, Gandalf.  I will try to be more careful.  Look,” he said, fixing Sam with his eyes, “all I am trying to say is that you are more valuable than you give yourself credit for, and I don’t want to lose you.  And maybe we will all have to make sacrifices for my sake, but I don’t have to like it.”

“I won’t feel abandoned until you wish me gone, sir,” said Sam, still anxious to reassure his master.

“Well, that is one thing I will never wish for,” said Frodo.  His face had smoothed a little, but he did not seem fully convinced.  “Oh, how I wish we didn’t have to make such hard choices!”

“If wishes were horses….” Merry muttered.

“Indeed,” said Gandalf.  “We should be rejoicing that things turned out as well as they did instead of dwelling on what might have been.  We can only do the best we can and trust that it will be sufficient.  I think we are a capable lot; that we are united and living after such a misadventure is proof of it.”

Despite his mild words, there was no mistaking Gandalf’s strong suggestion to let the matter be.  Sam was content to oblige him, for it didn’t seem that he could fully soothe Frodo’s injured spirit, and he didn’t want to hear his master talk of endangering the Quest just for his sake.  Sam was flattered by the sentiment, but such an act really would be madness.  Besides, his heart warned him that Frodo might not really know just how important the Ring was to him.  Of late Sam had begun to wonder if the Ring wasn’t growing on Frodo a little.  His master’s hand seemed to clasp the chain about his neck more often than he used to, and he had begun muttering things in his sleep, too.  Gandalf had said that the Ring was corruptive and Sam believed him.  If a wizard dared not take the Ring for fear of its influence, then surely a hobbit couldn’t keep it for years without being just a little bit affected, not even a hobbit as noble as Frodo Baggins.

Well, thought Sam, I can keep an eye on him now that I am back!  That’s my job – to make sure that Ring troubles him as little as it may.  And if I stick by his side, then he won’t ever feel he needs to choose between It and me.

“You look a little thinner than I remember, Mr. Frodo,” Sam said aloud.  Turning toward Merry and Pippin, he asked, “Have you been making sure he’s eating properly?”

Pippin rolled his eyes.  “We have been doing our best, but no one nags quite like you do, Sam.”

“I think I am rather thinner than I was a week ago,” said Boromir.  “I have missed your cooking.”

“As have I,” said Gimli.  “I march better on your food than any other.”

“Now, now, Mr. Frodo, Merry and Pippin are all fair cooks,” said Sam, who could not help blushing at the unexpected compliments.

“Certainly,” said Boromir, “but you seem to have a true talent for making something tasty out of nothing at all.”

“I take no offense at the truth!” said Pippin, who stood and gave Boromir a short bow.  “Everyone knows that Sam is the best cook here.”

“Please, don’t talk of food unless you plan to bring some out,” said Merry.  “I’ve been hungry for hours and have held my tongue just as Gandalf asked – a fact which I hope he will remember tomorrow.  Discussing food when we can’t have any is just cruel.”

“It is nearly time for supper, is it not?” said Strider.  “Daylight is already fading.”

“The sun nears the horizon,” Legolas confirmed.  It was the first thing he had said since escorting Sam back to the overhang.

“Then it is time to eat – or at least start the preparations,” said Frodo.  “And it is my turn to cook.”

“Oh, no, Mr. Frodo!” said Sam.  “Let me.”

“You are on bed rest until tomorrow,” Frodo admonished.  “No chores until then.”

“You know I don’t think cooking a chore!  I would like to do it.”

Pippin smirked.  “You could take my turn currying Bill if you need some –”

“Pippin!”

“Really, sir, let me whip something up – and not just because you’d enjoy it.  It’d feel so nice and normal after all this… unpleasantness.”

Frodo was unable to refuse such an earnest request, and two hours later the Fellowship was seated in a circle around the firepit, spooning down fish stew and effusively praising Sam’s handiwork.  Gandalf’s dire words were on no one’s mind any longer.  Frodo seemed to have shaken himself out of his funk, Merry, Pippin and Boromir were in high spirits, and Strider and Gandalf were almost relaxed.  Legolas and Gimli were eyeing each other strangely, which Sam thought odd; in the past they had either quarreled or ignored one another completely.  Yet whatever they were thinking, they seemed content, and Sam was glad that they were behaving civilly in close proximity.  It was a definite change for the better.

Sam’s heart felt very full as he gazed around at the rest of the Fellowship.  Now that he had everything off his chest, he felt that the distance between himself and the others had closed a little, and he ceased to hold them at arm’s length.  Frodo, Merry, and Pippin were overjoyed by his apparent return to the fold and showed it with great enthusiasm.  Sam had feared such a different reception that he almost wondered if it was all a dream.  He had been so certain that he had permanently altered his relationship to Frodo, Merry, and Pippin – indeed, with all the Shire – but it was not so.  He might not be quite the same old Sam, but knowing that the other hobbits still saw him that way made him feel as light as air.

The company was laughing at a jest that Boromir had made when Sam suddenly found himself locking eyes with Legolas across the fire.  Unnoticed, they shared a smile, and Sam felt his heart swell anew.  Real friends with an Elf! he thought.  Who’d’ve ever thought that something so wonderful could come out of such an awful time?  As the others chuckled around him, he found himself feeling affection not just for Legolas and the hobbits, but for all the Big Folk.  He hadn’t realized how much he had come to value their company until he had been separated from them.  Could they all learn to be such friends, he wondered?  It didn’t seem likely, but if they could…!  Surely Sauron’s heart would tremble in the face of such an unlikely brotherhood.

Legolas looked away as the laughter bubbled down; but Sam, who was feeling more buoyant than he had in a very long time, found himself doing something he’d never had the courage to do before.

“Will you sing something for us, Legolas?”

 The hobbits beamed delightedly at Sam.  Gandalf’s eyes glinted knowingly.

Legolas’ smile was pure contentment.  “It would be my pleasure.”

Sam leaned happily against Frodo’s side and let the first clear notes wash over him.  He could not really understand the words, for his grasp of Elvish was still rudimentary, but it didn’t matter; he could tell that it was about something good.  Sam wondered if Legolas was feeling the same way he was – rejoicing in a return to the simple pleasures of companions, a warm blanket, and hot food.  Sam doubted if he would ever compare the Fellowship’s humble campsites to the comforts of the Shire again.  From now on, he would compare them to what he had endured in Garan’s company.

Time passed and the song went on.  Warm and comfortable, Sam felt himself growing drowsy.  Before long his eyelids were drooping, and he soon gave up the fight to stay awake; but just before his eyes slid closed, he caught a glimpse of the sky through the trees outside.

The stars have finally come out at last, he observed.  How fitting!

And with that, he fell asleep.