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Now and For Always  by Antane

Astron, Hobbiton, 1390

Chapter One: Now and For Always

Bilbo looked up again from guiding young Samwise in his studies. Frodo was in the chair nearby, his writing stick scratching irregularly in the book the elder hobbit had bought for his nephew to copy his lessons in Sindarin in. The book was currently propped up against the tween’s folded, raised legs, but what caused Bilbo to look up was that the lad was once more tapping his stick against his book and his knees were jiggling restlessly. Frodo was looking at a wall, as though he could see through it to the hills and meadows outside. The old hobbit sighed for he had deliberately a room without a window so neither of his lads would have such distractions. He knew his nephew wouldn’t be able to concentrate much more on the lesson today. Frodo always grew restless this time of year, heart and legs burning for exercise and adventure like Bilbo had had.

“You inherited that from me, I’m afraid,” Bilbo had told him once and the tween had lit up like the sun to know he had something else in common with his beloved uncle. Frodo felt his eyes on him now and turned back to his studies a little shamefacedly and was soon mouthing words to himself. Satisfied that his nephew was once again applying himself for a few more moments, Bilbo returned to instructing 10-year-old Sam.

But the stick tapping soon began again and it began to be accompanied by foot tapping as well. Bilbo looked up again and found his nephew’s eyes already on him. “May I be excused?” Frodo asked in delightfully accented, perfectly pronounced Sindarin and then Bilbo realized what he had been silently practicing to say.

Sam looked up from his studies. He loved hearing Mr. Frodo speak Elvish. Bilbo restrained another sigh and smiled instead.

“Yes, Frodo, you may,” he responded in Sindarin. And then he turned to Sam and spoke in Westron. “And you may be, too, Samwise, for I don’t think I could keep Frodo indoors for another moment and you can keep him better entertained than his lessons right now.”

The young lad scrambled off his seat. “Thank you, Mr. Bilbo! I’ll take good care of him I promise.” He took the tween by the hand. “Come on, Mr. Frodo. A walk should do you good. Maybe we’ll even meet some Elves so you can practice all your learning on them!”

Bilbo chuckled and shook his head as the two left the room. Sam never lost his hope for seeing Elves one day and one day the old hobbit promised himself he would make sure the lad would have his wishes fulfilled. Maybe he would inquire at the same time about the light that lit them both from within that flared whenever their hands clasped and always seemed to be a bit brighter when they were in the same room together. He didn’t think many were aware of Sam’s light. Gandalf had looked long and thoughtfully at him once, but kept any thoughts to himself much to Bilbo’s frustration. He knew Bell was aware of it and so was Marigold, for the little lass had once shyly confided to the old hobbit that she loved her brother’s “shininess.” But he didn’t think anyone else, but Frodo, was aware.

The day was cloudy but that did not put the two lads off from running off on another adventure. It was later in the afternoon, when after stopping first in Frodo’s bedroom to claim the two wooden swords that Bilbo had made for them, that they left Bag End and headed into the meadows beyond.

“Let’s hunt for dragons, Sam!” Frodo said and Sam ran along his friend and future master. There was no one he loved more in the world than his Mr. Frodo, except his mum.

The afternoon was filled with fun and adventure as it always was and the tween was able to work out some of his excess energy by traveling far afield with his young friend, who he had long considered as much as brother as Merry was, though it was only just over half a year that they had met. Many a dragon were valiantly slain that day and when they were almost too tired to play anymore, there was a ominous rumble in the sky that was not part of their drama, but would soon be.

Sam looked up at the clouds that had grown much more threatening looking while they had been busy being the saviors of Middle-earth. “Mayhap we should get back home, Mr. Frodo,” he said as the first drops of rain began to fall.

“Quite right, my Sam,” the tween agreed and took the younger lad’s hand in his. “I’m sorry we didn’t see any Elves today, but we will one day. It would have been grand to have seen them today for they could give us shelter from the storm and we could stay up all night listening to their songs and stories.”

Sam’s eyes lit up. “Do you think one day we truly will?”

“Of course, we will. They still do travel through the Shire at times. The Havens lay beyond and they have to get to them somehow, don’t they? Don’t you fret, Sam, we have a lot of time still to see them.”

The rain began to fall harder and the two lads walked closer together. Sam clasped his friend’s tighter as the thunder grew a little closer and louder. Frodo kept up a steady stream of chatter, trying to keep him distracted.

“Did you know that Gandalf told Bilbo and Bilbo told me that the Elves have a special seeing stone of some sort at the Havens that allows them to see all the way to Elvenhome beyond the Sea? Wouldn’t that be wondrous to look in?”

“Yes, Mr. Frodo,” Sam said with a quiver to his voice, “it would be.”

“I’ve been wanting to ask Bilbo if we could go one day and see it for ourselves. Imagine seeing all the way there. It would be the adventure of adventures and to see the Sea itself! Oh, Sam! It’s the closer we would ever get because mortals aren’t allowed across, except for Earendil and he could never return after he arrived there.”

“Never?” Sam asked, beginning to be drawn into the tale as Frodo hoped he would be.

Lightening flashed once and Frodo bit his lip, hoping his young friend would not be frightened out from the spell he was trying to create.

“That sounds very sad,” the lad said, “never being able to come home again. I wouldn’t want that to happen to me.”

“I don’t think he knew that would be the cost when he went there,” Frodo said, “and it was for a very noble cause he did so too. And now he sails the sky above in his ship with a Silmaril lighting the way.”

“How could he do that?”

“It was a special gift he was given.”

There was another lightening flash and a louder rumble of thunder. Sam’s hand clutched at Frodo’s a little harder.

“Maybe that would be not so bad then,” Sam said. “Can he look down below and see his home that way, mayhap?”

“I don’t know. It was destroyed long ago. I agree it would be very sad to leave home, but I hope I would be brave enough just like him if I had to do it myself. And he slew a great winged dragon, Ancalagon the Black.”

Sam’s eyes widened. “He did? Just like we do?”

Frodo smiled. “But he did it for real.”

They hid under a tree for a little bit as the rain grew harder. Frodo looked out, as though he could see a future longed for. “I do want to leave one day, just to have an adventure with Bilbo, like he had with the dwarves.”

Sam looked up at him. “You’d take me with you, Mr. Frodo, wouldn’t you?”

Frodo squeezed his brother’s hand. “Of course, Sam-lad. I couldn’t leave you behind now, could I? Especially since we’d most likely be seeing Elves. And especially if I could convince Bilbo to go the Havens. I would love to see the Sea.”

“The Elven New Year is coming soon, on the 6th.”

Sam’s eyes grew as wide as saucers. “That’s my birthday!” There was another lightening flash and rumble of thunder but the lad barely noticed.

Frodo looked at his friend and smiled. “It is? Oh, Sam, that’s splendid! What a day to be born on!”

The rain was coming down in sheets now and the two continued to huddle under the tree, already soaked through and still a couple miles from home. They both jumped when a particularly loud thunderclap boomed directly over their hands and lightening struck a nearby tree. Sam began to cry. Frodo bit his lip for the spell he had woven was now broken and he was a little nervous himself.

“Come on, Sam! There’s nothing for it but to make a run for it! Can you manage?”

The lad nodded miserably. He wanted to be brave for his friend and brother, but he was now so frightened he felt he was shaking as bad as the leaves being whipped around. He clasped Frodo’s hand so tight it would have hurt had Frodo noticed it, but the tween was trying to control his own fear.

“Ready?”

“Ready, Mr. Frodo.”

They ran and ran until at last, soaked through and through, they passed into the safety of the Bag End parlour, and shut the storm out. Sam was still crying a bit, but Frodo wiped at his tears and hugged him and kissed his head, then turned him to look at himself in the mirror there. The lads were soon laughing at their outlandish appearance. They were covered in mud from the knees down and liberally splattered just about everywhere else. The other place that was still clean was where their hands had been so tightly clasped. Their curls were plastered flat against their heads and the water dripping from the cloaks and breeches and hair was forming muddy puddles on the floor.

They turned when they heard a loud clearing of the throat behind him. Bilbo stood there with two large towels and held them out with a frown. Frodo smiled and instantly took one of them and started to wipe up the floor. He gave the other to Sam. “Go run into the privy, Sam, and get yourself into the tub! I am going to run down to Number 3 and get you some clean clothes.”

“But Mr. Frodo, you ought not go out again into that storm! I should go so you don’t get yourself dirtier. And you shouldn’t be cleaning up the floors neither! That’s my job.”

Frodo’s grin grew. “I don’t think I could get dirtier, my Sam! Now off with you and be all clean and dry when I get back so you don’t catch your death from standing too long in soaked clothes.”

The lad thought about that a moment. It still didn’t sit right with him that Mr. Frodo would be going out again. “All right, but only if you come right back and get into something dry yourself.”

Bilbo smiled, hearing Sam have no compunctions about ordering his future master around if he thought it was in his best interests to do so.

“I promise, Sam,” he said.

He laid the clean towel down and Sam went off into the privy with his towel, still dripping heavily and leaving muddy footprints everywhere.

Bilbo went into the kitchen and set a large kettle of tea to boil. It would be needed. He set out the honey Frodo loved and put out his favorite mug, then two others.

Frodo returned soon and found Sam as ordered, standing in one of Frodo’s own nightshirts that Bilbo had let him borrow. The tween found also the tub filled again with clean, warm water and clothes already laid out for him to wear and he knew who had done that for him too. When he emerged cleaned and dressed again, the parlour floor was also clean up and all the mud that they had both tracked in. The storm continued to rage about them but they were safe inside now.

It was after their tea that the two lads stood at the window, watching the rain continue to pour down. “Will it ever stop?” Sam wondered, as a large thunderclap boomed above them and he jumped.

Frodo laid a comforting hand on his shoulder and the lad looked up at him and saw the smile and love from those luminous eyes and knew he was perfectly safe. “It will stop, my Sam, and then we can have fun, splashing in all the puddles!”

Bilbo chuckled behind them and moved into the study. How his beloved nephew had flourished again after the grievous loss of his parents. His broken heart had just needed the right soil to set roots back down into and he had found them in Merry’s young heart and now in Sam’s.

“I wish it would stop. I should be getting home, but I don’t want to get back out into it.”

“No need, my Sam. I told your mum I didn’t want you to be going back out into it either so I brought back one of your nightshirts so you won’t be tripping in mine. You can stay with me tonight. Maybe if we are really lucky Bilbo can read us some tales and then tomorrow we can get you back home.”

Sam looked up at his treasured friend with awe. “Truly, Mr. Frodo?”

Frodo smiled. “Truly.”

That night at dinner, Sam sniffled some and Frodo offered him on his handkerchiefs to blow into. He took another with him for during the night just in case he needed it.

After they crawled into Frodo’s bed that night, Bilbo did indeed regale them with tales of the Elves, then when the wonder in Sam’s eyes yielded to yawns deep and wide and his head began to loll against Frodo’s side, the elder hobbit said his goodnights, kissed both their heads and blew up the lamp beside the bed. Frodo returned the kiss and gave his uncle a tight hug. “I love you, Uncle.”

“I love you, too, my lad.”

When the two lads had gotten themselves comfortable, Sam spoke into the darkness and searched for his friend’s hand. “We’ll always be friends, won’t we, Mr. Frodo?”

Frodo kissed his head and clasped his hand. “Of course, my Sam. Now and for always.”

 





        

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