Who are you? You are not the same one I once knew. It cannot be! My mind is
screaming. How did I not see it before that in this moment all the pains of
my failure are evident? You! You are no longer what I once knew. ---------
~~~
Shire Reckoning: April 1420 Fourth Age (One year after the Destruction of the Ring)
It was a morning that could only be described in song. Sam remembered mornings like these from his childhood and he knew just how he wanted to spend it. Once the sun hit it's high lustrous note and all the music of the morning was in full swing Sam gathered up his gardening tools and set to tending the garden at Bag-End. He was feeling rather jittery lately and he needed some time to think. Bag-End's gardens were the perfect place to think. In fact he could not think of a better place in the whole of Middle- Earth, perhaps Lothlorien, no Lothlorien was beauty beyond reckoning but it wasn't home. He sighed with relief as he finally made it among the snap- dragons and the lilies.
He had quite a lot on his mind and his Gaffer would always say; "When your mind's gonna be weighed down by all that thunkin' and troublin' don' you go gettin' crushed by all them troubles, Sam Gamgee, it won' solve a thing."
Sam leaned back and sighed, his Gaffer was right. He could let them float away for now. Now the garden sang him a song and he listened. He was sitting in his favorite spot. All among the bright blue trumpets, and the leathery vines, and the butter ball buds he settled himself among the gentle prizes under Frodo's window. His eyes scanned the ground. That pretty plant no longer grew there. It had gone long ago, he had almost forgotten about the Dancing Spirits until he now noticed that there were no more curly springs dancing amongst the grass. No longer did the tiny pin prick stars dazzle and pucker in the fresh green grass. Sam's hands wove frantically but naught a root or leaf was left of it. Not even a sprout of what it had once been could be seen amongst the common grass.
Tears rolled down Sam's cheeks. He had never been so distraught over a single flower before. But these were special. They were extravagant flowers. Flowers he named for his master. Flowers his master loved so very much. They were gone. All of them. Not a trace was left and Sam could not hold to the hope that they did up and wander away to see the world. Perhaps when he was little he would have. Perhaps when he was ten Frodo would tell him a tall tale about flowers walking about the Shire, wandering the woods, and traveling with elves and such. With this evidence the little Sam-lad might have believed it. But no more. He knew the cold hard truth. During that dark winter their precious lives were claimed by the frost. They were so tiny and delicate and how beautiful and brave they were they were fragile. Just as the spirit of his master once was. So brave and beautiful and shattered in the coldness of that venemous Ring!
Sam pounded his fists to the ground and wept. "They're gone! All gone! Broken and destroyed like all the beauty in the world!"
"Sam?"
The hobbit jumped up almost trampling the flowers and turned to see his master standing beside him. Frodo no longer carried music with him. He moved in silence and shadows now. His eyes no longer danced with mirth and his voice no longer sounded like the tinkling of bells. Now his eyes shone with the shadow of pain and there was a dark space where you could see a piece of his soul missing. Sam trembled at these thoughts as he gazed at the shadow of his beloved master that stood before him. The laugh was a cold echo like the ringing of cruel metal on hollow stones in the dark. Sam felt almost afraid of the hobbit that was before him but he tried to hide it.
This hobbit no longer danced. His soul once fluttered high above the ground, Sam could not see it now. He wondered if he lost his special sense. He wondered if he was no longer right to see it. But he knew this wasn't true. It was Frodo that had changed. Sam still had the special sight, but he had nothing to see. The Dancing Spirit inside of his master was dragged to the ground by the weight of the Ring. He no longer danced. He had always heard the music of the day, Sam knew that Frodo was deaf to this day. Just by the way he walked, no longer with that graceful step, that bounce in his feet. It was gone. Like all the beauty in the world. He could no longer hear the croon of the heat and the blare of the sky, the harmony of the sun and the melody of the wind. He was deaf to these things now. The grass did not whisper its secrets to him any more, the ballad of the birds was just a racket to his ears. The lute of nature's voices fell on deaf ears and died in his dark mind. A bubbling stream was mindless chatter to him and he no longer danced. It was his music and he lost it. Now it played for no one and Sam noted that it mourned for their lost listener. No longer would things be as they were, as Sam thought they were always meant to be. Nature would sing, Frodo would dance, and he would watch. Frodo's slender fingers no longer wove the gentle tune of nature's notes. And there was something forever amiss in this new world. It could not be precisely what the old world was and only people with special eyes could see and special ears could hear. Sam saw it. Sam heard it. But Frodo was lost to it and perhaps that was what was missing. Frodo. He was a part of that world. It had lost its Dancing Spirit. It had lost it's note in the song. And now it was forever flawed. Sam wondered if it was because the hands that once wove the music were missing a finger so a single thread was forever amiss. He wondered.
"Sam, what's the matter?" The voice was shaking with love and concern but Sam could still hear the missing note.
"It's- it's your flowers, Mr. Frodo. You're special Dancing Spirits. They're gone."
Frodo looked at the horizon, his hair ruffled in the breeze but he did not heed it. "The world has changed, Sam. I thought I wanted them to see it all. I thought it was wonderful. All of it. They lost their spirit because they knew what I had the learn the hard way." Frodo's hand crept to his neck and tears slipped down his fair face. "I'm glad they're gone!" he spat bitterly. "They would just have their souls stolen away any way! This world steals and crushes everything beautiful!"
Sam trembled trying to hold in his screams. Why was Frodo this way!? He was never so horrid! So frightening! So dark and bitter!
Sam felt something on his hand and he looked down through teary eyes. "Hey look, Mr. Frodo!" he tried to calm his shaking voice and make it sound cheery. "A little beetle goin' off to war."
Frodo's cold stare rested on the beetle. "That's silly, Samwise, it's a beetle they don't fight wars."
Sam let the beetle waddle away and buried his face in his knees. Why!? Why did he have to change!? Why did his Dancing Spirit have to die!? It wasn't fair! There would be no more silly stories of beetles in battles or walking flowers or fox tails. It was all gone! All gone! Everything beautiful in this world was destroyed!
Sam struggled to look up his face a mask of misery and pain. When he looked up at Frodo he saw that his master's face had changed. It had grown paler, his eyes shone with fright and malice. His hand tightened around Sam's shoulder and he hissed between his teeth.
Sam looked around to see what had made Frodo so angry but he saw nothing. Frodo stood stiffly and stomped over to the corner where a frail spider web was shining in the sunlight. The small inhabitant was waiting for her breakfast patiently in the center. Frodo glared down at the tiny villain and before Sam could give a dismayed cry of protest Frodo lifted his foot and stomped the creature and her home into the dust. He growled low and deep in his throat then turned back to Sam. "You were right, Sam," he muttered in a dark tone. "They don't deserve life." With that he stormed away and slammed the door to Bag-End.
For a moment Sam sat, trembling in utter shock and silence until finally he released a wail of anguish and threw himself to the ground. He tore up grass and pounded the earth. WHY! WHY! WHY! Was all he could think. His mind screamed, his voice rasped to sobbing and his face was smeered with dirt and tears.
Who are you? You are not the same one I once knew. It cannot be! My mind is screaming. How did I not see it before that in this moment all the pains of my failure are evident? You! You are no longer what I once knew.
He had tried to save his master and he had failed. The song of the morning became a grim lament and only Sam's ears could hear it.
End.
~~~
Shire Reckoning: April 1420 Fourth Age (One year after the Destruction of the Ring)
It was a morning that could only be described in song. Sam remembered mornings like these from his childhood and he knew just how he wanted to spend it. Once the sun hit it's high lustrous note and all the music of the morning was in full swing Sam gathered up his gardening tools and set to tending the garden at Bag-End. He was feeling rather jittery lately and he needed some time to think. Bag-End's gardens were the perfect place to think. In fact he could not think of a better place in the whole of Middle- Earth, perhaps Lothlorien, no Lothlorien was beauty beyond reckoning but it wasn't home. He sighed with relief as he finally made it among the snap- dragons and the lilies.
He had quite a lot on his mind and his Gaffer would always say; "When your mind's gonna be weighed down by all that thunkin' and troublin' don' you go gettin' crushed by all them troubles, Sam Gamgee, it won' solve a thing."
Sam leaned back and sighed, his Gaffer was right. He could let them float away for now. Now the garden sang him a song and he listened. He was sitting in his favorite spot. All among the bright blue trumpets, and the leathery vines, and the butter ball buds he settled himself among the gentle prizes under Frodo's window. His eyes scanned the ground. That pretty plant no longer grew there. It had gone long ago, he had almost forgotten about the Dancing Spirits until he now noticed that there were no more curly springs dancing amongst the grass. No longer did the tiny pin prick stars dazzle and pucker in the fresh green grass. Sam's hands wove frantically but naught a root or leaf was left of it. Not even a sprout of what it had once been could be seen amongst the common grass.
Tears rolled down Sam's cheeks. He had never been so distraught over a single flower before. But these were special. They were extravagant flowers. Flowers he named for his master. Flowers his master loved so very much. They were gone. All of them. Not a trace was left and Sam could not hold to the hope that they did up and wander away to see the world. Perhaps when he was little he would have. Perhaps when he was ten Frodo would tell him a tall tale about flowers walking about the Shire, wandering the woods, and traveling with elves and such. With this evidence the little Sam-lad might have believed it. But no more. He knew the cold hard truth. During that dark winter their precious lives were claimed by the frost. They were so tiny and delicate and how beautiful and brave they were they were fragile. Just as the spirit of his master once was. So brave and beautiful and shattered in the coldness of that venemous Ring!
Sam pounded his fists to the ground and wept. "They're gone! All gone! Broken and destroyed like all the beauty in the world!"
"Sam?"
The hobbit jumped up almost trampling the flowers and turned to see his master standing beside him. Frodo no longer carried music with him. He moved in silence and shadows now. His eyes no longer danced with mirth and his voice no longer sounded like the tinkling of bells. Now his eyes shone with the shadow of pain and there was a dark space where you could see a piece of his soul missing. Sam trembled at these thoughts as he gazed at the shadow of his beloved master that stood before him. The laugh was a cold echo like the ringing of cruel metal on hollow stones in the dark. Sam felt almost afraid of the hobbit that was before him but he tried to hide it.
This hobbit no longer danced. His soul once fluttered high above the ground, Sam could not see it now. He wondered if he lost his special sense. He wondered if he was no longer right to see it. But he knew this wasn't true. It was Frodo that had changed. Sam still had the special sight, but he had nothing to see. The Dancing Spirit inside of his master was dragged to the ground by the weight of the Ring. He no longer danced. He had always heard the music of the day, Sam knew that Frodo was deaf to this day. Just by the way he walked, no longer with that graceful step, that bounce in his feet. It was gone. Like all the beauty in the world. He could no longer hear the croon of the heat and the blare of the sky, the harmony of the sun and the melody of the wind. He was deaf to these things now. The grass did not whisper its secrets to him any more, the ballad of the birds was just a racket to his ears. The lute of nature's voices fell on deaf ears and died in his dark mind. A bubbling stream was mindless chatter to him and he no longer danced. It was his music and he lost it. Now it played for no one and Sam noted that it mourned for their lost listener. No longer would things be as they were, as Sam thought they were always meant to be. Nature would sing, Frodo would dance, and he would watch. Frodo's slender fingers no longer wove the gentle tune of nature's notes. And there was something forever amiss in this new world. It could not be precisely what the old world was and only people with special eyes could see and special ears could hear. Sam saw it. Sam heard it. But Frodo was lost to it and perhaps that was what was missing. Frodo. He was a part of that world. It had lost its Dancing Spirit. It had lost it's note in the song. And now it was forever flawed. Sam wondered if it was because the hands that once wove the music were missing a finger so a single thread was forever amiss. He wondered.
"Sam, what's the matter?" The voice was shaking with love and concern but Sam could still hear the missing note.
"It's- it's your flowers, Mr. Frodo. You're special Dancing Spirits. They're gone."
Frodo looked at the horizon, his hair ruffled in the breeze but he did not heed it. "The world has changed, Sam. I thought I wanted them to see it all. I thought it was wonderful. All of it. They lost their spirit because they knew what I had the learn the hard way." Frodo's hand crept to his neck and tears slipped down his fair face. "I'm glad they're gone!" he spat bitterly. "They would just have their souls stolen away any way! This world steals and crushes everything beautiful!"
Sam trembled trying to hold in his screams. Why was Frodo this way!? He was never so horrid! So frightening! So dark and bitter!
Sam felt something on his hand and he looked down through teary eyes. "Hey look, Mr. Frodo!" he tried to calm his shaking voice and make it sound cheery. "A little beetle goin' off to war."
Frodo's cold stare rested on the beetle. "That's silly, Samwise, it's a beetle they don't fight wars."
Sam let the beetle waddle away and buried his face in his knees. Why!? Why did he have to change!? Why did his Dancing Spirit have to die!? It wasn't fair! There would be no more silly stories of beetles in battles or walking flowers or fox tails. It was all gone! All gone! Everything beautiful in this world was destroyed!
Sam struggled to look up his face a mask of misery and pain. When he looked up at Frodo he saw that his master's face had changed. It had grown paler, his eyes shone with fright and malice. His hand tightened around Sam's shoulder and he hissed between his teeth.
Sam looked around to see what had made Frodo so angry but he saw nothing. Frodo stood stiffly and stomped over to the corner where a frail spider web was shining in the sunlight. The small inhabitant was waiting for her breakfast patiently in the center. Frodo glared down at the tiny villain and before Sam could give a dismayed cry of protest Frodo lifted his foot and stomped the creature and her home into the dust. He growled low and deep in his throat then turned back to Sam. "You were right, Sam," he muttered in a dark tone. "They don't deserve life." With that he stormed away and slammed the door to Bag-End.
For a moment Sam sat, trembling in utter shock and silence until finally he released a wail of anguish and threw himself to the ground. He tore up grass and pounded the earth. WHY! WHY! WHY! Was all he could think. His mind screamed, his voice rasped to sobbing and his face was smeered with dirt and tears.
Who are you? You are not the same one I once knew. It cannot be! My mind is screaming. How did I not see it before that in this moment all the pains of my failure are evident? You! You are no longer what I once knew.
He had tried to save his master and he had failed. The song of the morning became a grim lament and only Sam's ears could hear it.
End.