31 September 1389

"Mr. Frodo ....I can’t....he’s too...." little Sam looked up at the towering pony. Gil-galad lowered his head and blew on Sam’s face. Sam stood very still and tense, ready to spring away. But Frodo came up behind him and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"It’s alright, Sam. He is only smelling you. He’s making sure you won’t hurt him."

Sam looked up at his future master in astonishment. "Me hurt him? Why, I couldn’t hurt him!"

Frodo couldn’t help but smile. "I know that, and you know that. But he doesn’t. And he also has to make sure he likes you. Tell him who you are, Sam."

Sam turned back to the pony and looked in the warm brown eyes. He seemed to confirm everything Frodo had just told him. Sam reached up a tentative hand and scratched Gil-galad on his star. The pony relaxed and leaned into Sam’s hand.

"Hullo, Gil-galad. I’m Sam. I’m Mr. Frodo’s friend. You take care of him, ya hear?" Sam smiled and relaxed a bit. "I’m sure you will," he crooned. "You’re sweet. You like being scratched, don’t you?" Gil-galad sighed in contentment. Sam and Frodo laughed.

"He likes you, Sam. Now do you want to ride him?"

Sam looked unsure at first. But then he smiled and nodded to Frodo. Frodo led Gil-galad out to the mounting block and lifted Sam into the saddle. After he had swung on himself, Frodo gently urged his pony into a walk. After they walked around the field a little bit, Frodo felt Sam relax against him.

"Do you want to go faster?" Frodo queried.

"Yes!" Sam said without hesitation. Frodo urged Gil-galad into a trot. After a while, Frodo urged his pony into an easy canter. They rode around the field a few times and then Frodo slowed Gil-galad to a walk again.

"What did you think, Sam?" Frodo asked.

At first Sam didn’t say anything, and then he could barely find the words to say. "Mr. Frodo! That was...it was like flying. Did we fly, Mr. Frodo? Because it felt like it. Did Mr. Bilbo buy this horse from the elves? He seems like an elf horse to me. Except that he’s a pony. Can we do that again, Mr. Frodo?" Sam asked, breathless. Frodo laughed. "Of course we can do that again." And so off they cantered again. Sam wrapped his hands in Gil-galad’s ebony mane, as it flowed in the wind. The smooth gait was soothing, and Frodo thought he could go on like this forever.

But his daydreams were rudely interrupted. He didn’t know how it happened. All he knew is that all of a sudden, he felt something whizz past his leg and hit Gil-galad in the side. The pony squealed in terror and bucked and reared. Frodo flew off. All went black for a few moments. As soon as he was aware of where he was, Frodo was on his feet and rushing to find Sam.

The lad was lying on his back in the grass. He didn’t move. Frodo knelt beside the lad and checked for breath. Yes, he was breathing. But his breath seemed a little bit labored. After a moment, Sam opened his eyes. "Mr. Frodo." he whispered.

"I’m here, Sam. You just took a little spill is all. Do you feel pain anywhere?"

Tears started from Sam’s eyes. "I’m so scared, Mr. Frodo. What happened? I’m so scared."

"It will be alright, I promise. Just tell me if you feel pain anywhere on your body."

Sam thought for a moment. "Yes. My leg hurts real bad, Mr. Frodo."

"Move it for me."

Sam tried, but then cried out in agony. "I can’t! It hurts somethin’ fierce." Sam gritted out between his teeth.

Frodo squeezed Sam’s hand. "You did good, you did good. Don’t move. I’m going to go for help. Can you stay here by yourself?"

Sam nodded. Gil-galad had returned and was standing penitentially close by. Frodo stood slowly with a whispered, "I’ll be back. Hold on, Sam." He gathered up the reins and hopped on Gil-galad.

The only thing Frodo could think of as he cantered towards the road was what went wrong. He couldn’t figure it for the life of him. He had ridden Gil-galad many times before he had allowed Sam to ride. Gil-galad had proved himself a very calm horse who didn’t spook often. Again, Frodo’s thoughts were jarred when Gil-galad threw up his head and stopped dead in his tracks. Frodo looked around and saw the perpetrator.

Lotho Sackville-Baggins crouched in the bushes. Frodo swung down from his mount and strode over to his malevolent cousin. Lotho’s surprised expression was met with blue eyes made hard with fury.

"What were you thinking?! Or were you thinking? You...you...how *dare* you? You know enough about horses to know how dangerous that foolish action of yours was."

"I...I missed. You don’t have to get so riled up about it. He wasn’t harmed, was he?"

"First, don’t give me that...preposterous nonsense about ‘I missed’. You’re a Hobbit and that was close range. I’m not a fool, though it may surprise you. And yes, he *was* harmed. Why do you think he is laying in the grass over there?"

"Oh...your Uncle's gardener’s child? I thought you meant your pony."

It took every nerve in Frodo’s body and every ounce of his will to conquer the urge to hit Lotho square in the chin. He hadn’t even thought of the innocent Hobbit child he had hurt. Frodo leapt back on his pony, so that he was out of danger of seriously hurting Lotho. "I didn’t think even you could be so low as that, Loatho. What has Sam ever done to you?" Then he kicked Gil-galad into a full gallop as he sped away down the road to fetch a healer.

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TBC...

Copyright 2006 Frodo Baggins