Happy Birthday and LotR Fic- part 1
May. 30th, 2004 12:51 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tarotgalHappy Birthday ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
shirehobbit2002!!! Hope you have a wonderful day... and an even better year You certainly deserve to! *hugs*
Okay... as for the fic... this is why I didn't go into detail with you on AIM about it. LOL But due to this move I'm currently going through, I didn't have time to complete it. It's rough and only mildly edited now. And if anyone has ideas of where to go from here/how to finish, I'd love to hear them. I've ideas but none of them are really that strong.
ANYHOO, I'm making this fic my first priority when the move is done and my computer is unpacked. But I wanted to give you a taste for your birthday at least. Many happy returns!
Title: Currently Untitled
Author: tarotgal
Fandom: Lord of the Rings
Rating: G
Pairing: Sam/Rosie-implied
Disclaimer: goodness, no, they’re not mine!
Summary: Sam wakes up one morning to find Frodo is ill
Author’s Notes: Written in honor of Hermione’s birthday… I’m sorry I couldn’t get it finished in time!!!
Samwise woke, a few days before the wedding, just as the dawn was coming over Bag End. From his room, the best bedroom which had once belonged to Bilbo, he could see the sun’s faint light creeping over the flowerbeds out front. The glow was warm and welcoming, and he thought to linger in bed just a little longer than usual.
He could only assume Frodo felt likewise about the morning for the other hobbit was not in the kitchen when he went in to fix breakfast. The birds in the nest outside the kitchen window began singing as Sam cooked and he was so distracted by their lovely melody that he didn’t notice that Frodo was still not up until he scooped the eggs onto the plates by the slices of toast. Sam frowned at the empty seat at the table, and set the plates and pots down.
It wasn’t one of the anniversaries. Sam was sure of that as he headed down the hallway towards Frodo’s room. Every year on the anniversaries of his stabbings and losing the ring, he stayed in bed all day with intense pains. But today was just any old day, nothing special at all. And it wasn’t at all like Frodo to sleep so late, even after a night out at the pub.
Sam tapped lightly on the circular door to Frodo’s bedroom. He pressed his ear to the door so he could hear within. “Mister Frodo?” he called when there was no response. A level of panic and worry rose in Sam, and he began very quickly to go through all the possibilities in his mind. Everything from oversleeping to having been kidnapped. It was often that Frodo left to wander about the fields or the edge of the forests alone, but he never left without telling Sam and certainly never left without a good breakfast in his stomach. “Mister Frodo?” Sam called out again, anxiously. He pressed his pointy ear against the thick wooden door as hard as he could, straining to listen.
Finally he heard some movement, and then a soft, “Come in, Sam.” Well, this proved at least he was awake. Things could not be so bad after all.
So Samwise lifted the doorlatch and entered, finding Frodo still in bed. The hobbit looked far better than he had at times during the war, but far worse than he looked normally. Much of it was from sleep and his head of curly dark brown hair was naturally always in tangles. But he looked weary and exhausted, especially in the eyes, and that was a look Sam had hoped never to see upon Frodo’s face again.
Sam mentally double-checked to be sure this wasn’t actually one of the anniversaries. It wasn’t. He was sure of it. Before Sam had a chance to ask what was the matter, Frodo raised himself up on one elbow and leaned forward with a deep breath. “hheee-CHHHH!” He sneezed wetly, the sound strong for such a small nose. He sniffed lightly and raised his head back up. “Sorry, Sam.”
Shaking his head, “No need to apologize to me,” he said softly. “Are you… feeling ill, Frodo?”
Frodo gave a slow, decisive nod. “I do believe that is the word for it.” He rubbed a finger alongside his nose, sniffling. Then cupped his whole hand over his nose and mouth. “hee-KSHHHH! CHIHHH!” He sneezed in rapid succession, snapping forward with each.
Sam shook his head and turned his back to Frodo in order to look through the dresser. He pulled several thick handkerchiefs out from the top drawer and walked over to Frodo. He placed it over Frodo’s hand, letting the hobbit make the rather wet transfer from hand to handkerchief on his own. As Frodo rubbed his nose into the cloth, Sam felt his forehead. It was hot with fever and damp with sweat. “Why did you not call for me?” Sam asked, looking down sympathetically. With a fever on top of the sniffles, he must surely feel as bad as he looked if not worse. “How long have you been ailing?”
“Since last night,” Frodo replied, feeling honesty was the best course of action and feeling too sick to drum up a decent fib anyway. Sam looked a little shocked at this confession, however, not wanting to believe his friend had been sick so long without his noticing. Frodo tried his best to explain. “I did not want to worry you, what with the wedding so near.” Samwise frowned down at him. “You have had quite enough worrying over me to last you a lifetime, my dear Sam.”
Sam’s face softened a little. It was hard to stay cross with Frodo Baggins, especially a sick Frodo Baggins. “I can bear a little more, Mister Frodo,” he said with a smile. Frodo smiled back and felt his hand squeezed reassuringly just as it had been back in Rivendell. It seemed like ages and ages ago, but it was the same comforting squeeze. Sam would always be there to look after him, and Frodo had to admit he was glad for it.
“Now let me get you a cloth for your forehead, and something cool to drink for starters,” Sam said at once. “I’ve made eggs and toast for breakfast but I don’t suppose you’ll be wanting that just now?” Frodo shook his head, looking a bit sorry. “No matter,” said Sam quickly, before Frodo could feel too badly. “Like I said we’ll just start with the drink and go from there.” Frodo nodded back gratefully.
As was the standard procedure when Frodo was feeling unwell, Sam did his best not to pressure him at all. There were some times in life, and Frodo knew this intimately, that one could not avoid pressure and feel it weighing heavily. But this was not one of those times. As Frodo had resigned as Deputy Mayor, only just recently, he did not have that burden. And the wedding festivities seemed far away, though already planned out properly. There was nothing left to do but see Frodo through this as best he could.
Returning to Frodo’s side, he found his friend in the midst of more sneezes which shook him helplessly in bed. Sam helped Frodo sit up against the wooden headboard until the fit passed. “hehh-Chhhhh! CHHHH! Heh… hih-KSHHHH! Hheeee-CHISHHHH!” Sam readjusted the blankets, tucking them around Frodo more securely so they would not come loose from the sneezing hobbit’s movements. Then he put a hand on Frodo’s shoulder, moving with it as the hobbit fell forward with each sneeze, there just as a comforting reassurance more than anything else. “heeKShhhh! hehCHH!” Frodo sniffed into the handkerchief, folded it, and blew his nose. Already early in the morning, and he already sounded exhausted from the process. Frodo balled the handkerchief up in his hand and gave his nose a final swipe before looking up at Sam helplessly, apologetically.
“It’s all right,” Sam said softly. He pried the used handkerchief from Frodo’s fingers and put a fresh, clean one in its place. Then he handed over the drink. “How about a bit of drink?” Frodo took a few gulps of the juice as Sam held the glass to his lips. Sam might have liked Frodo to drink more, but Frodo seemed done after that, and wanting to lie back down. So Sam helped him do so, and then placed the cool compress on his master’s forehead. “There… that’s better, isn’t it?” he asked softly.
Frodo looked up and nodded. His brilliant blue eyes had dulled since the beginning of their adventures, but were bright now only with fever. It was an unnatural look for Frodo, and Sam felt uneasy at it. He swallowed hard and flipped the compress over after a few minutes as the part against Frodo’s head had warmed already from body heat. “Don’t you go worrying now. You just rest,” Sam said, calming a bit when Frodo closed his eyes. A bit, but not much. “I’ll see you through this.”
Frodo smiled faintly. “I know you will, my Sam.” Back to sleep he drifted, quickly and quietly, leaving Sam to hover over him with worry.
*
When he woke not much later, it was to find Sam sitting hunched over in a chair by his bedside. His arms were folded and crossed on Frodo’s thighs, and Sam’s head rested sideways upon them. He was fast asleep, and even calling out to him did not make him stir. It made Frodo smile to remember how difficult a time Sam had once had falling asleep in uncomfortable circumstances. It seemed the lack of comfort in a journey to Mordor had trained him to be able to sleep anywhere. Frodo, on the other hand, found it hard to sleep through the night still and sometimes woke in the middle of the night to turn over and see Sam standing watch over him from the doorway. Such was the routine of life since Sam had moved in with Frodo to make preparations and take care of him.
One thing Sam couldn’t sleep through, however, was Frodo sneezing. It came unexpectedly and powerfully, shaking Frodo where he lay. “heee-CHISHHH!” Sam lifted his head with a start, looking up at Frodo. Frodo rubbed a handkerchief at his nose then reached down and petted Sam’s head affectionately. “Sorry to wake you.” It was his way of saying thank you for staying, knowing Sam understood without actually having to say it.
Sam nodded in a way that made Frodo understand he didn’t mind being woken. For if Frodo was awake, it surely meant he was in need of something. Something Sam could get him. Samwise looked him over critically for a few seconds. “I’ll go get another drink for you. Maybe a few water crackers… and another cool compress…” He left without need of a reply, for the look in Frodo’s eyes said that all the items mentioned were most appreciated.
Frodo spent the mid-day slipping in and out of sleep. He woke to take a few sips of juice. Or fell asleep to the cool cloth wiping his brow. Or blew his nose quietly so as not to miss a word of one of Sam’s songs. Sam, who had always preferred listening to singing, had been so filled with adventures that he was able to make up stories in the way most simply retold events. They were creative, engaging tales of characters with traits so familiar to Frodo that the hobbit was sure he knew where Sam had pulled them. But though Sam’s tales involved battles and overcoming hardships, they were always kind and entertaining and never spoke of anything like what he and Frodo had gone through.
“The one about the Miller and the dragon,” Frodo requested, feeling again like the young man he had once been, eager to hear Bilbo’s tales before bed. But Bilbo never had quite so nice a tune behind his tales as Sam had. And it was a struggle at times to stay quiet and awake to the ending. Sam never minded picking up from the middle and telling it over again until Frodo caught it all, however. Frodo had been through adventures of his own that had claimed his soul, his livelihood. But he enjoyed hearing ones from Sam as he knew they were not real but instead part of his friend. A part he most enjoyed getting to know better.
“Could I get another hanky?” Frodo asked weakly as Sam finished another song, feeling the urge to fall asleep but finding his nose too bothersome at present to allow it.
Sam nodded, already halfway to the dresser to retrieve a few more. His hand grazed Frodo’s forehead after handing a handkerchief over. Frodo felt warm, but slightly better than he had that morning. If the fever continued to decrease at this rate, the illness would be easily gone in a day. Still he sat down in the chair by the bed and patted Frodo’s leg gently.
Frodo acknowledged the touch with a smile, but had more pressing matters to attend to. His nose was tickling again, so that burying his nose in the handkerchief and rubbing through the fabric was not helping any. “ehhh…” He drew a strong breath, then paused. Samwise patted his leg again. The corner’s of Frodo’s mouth turned up in a smile at this, and that few seconds of distraction seemed to be all it took. His face fell and his body stiffened. “heeeChuhhh!” He was tossed forward in bed.
Samwise looked on in worry.
to be continued...
shirehobbit2002!!! Hope you have a wonderful day... and an even better year You certainly deserve to! *hugs*Okay... as for the fic... this is why I didn't go into detail with you on AIM about it. LOL But due to this move I'm currently going through, I didn't have time to complete it. It's rough and only mildly edited now. And if anyone has ideas of where to go from here/how to finish, I'd love to hear them. I've ideas but none of them are really that strong.
ANYHOO, I'm making this fic my first priority when the move is done and my computer is unpacked. But I wanted to give you a taste for your birthday at least. Many happy returns!
Title: Currently Untitled
Author: tarotgal
Fandom: Lord of the Rings
Rating: G
Pairing: Sam/Rosie-implied
Disclaimer: goodness, no, they’re not mine!
Summary: Sam wakes up one morning to find Frodo is ill
Author’s Notes: Written in honor of Hermione’s birthday… I’m sorry I couldn’t get it finished in time!!!
Samwise woke, a few days before the wedding, just as the dawn was coming over Bag End. From his room, the best bedroom which had once belonged to Bilbo, he could see the sun’s faint light creeping over the flowerbeds out front. The glow was warm and welcoming, and he thought to linger in bed just a little longer than usual.
He could only assume Frodo felt likewise about the morning for the other hobbit was not in the kitchen when he went in to fix breakfast. The birds in the nest outside the kitchen window began singing as Sam cooked and he was so distracted by their lovely melody that he didn’t notice that Frodo was still not up until he scooped the eggs onto the plates by the slices of toast. Sam frowned at the empty seat at the table, and set the plates and pots down.
It wasn’t one of the anniversaries. Sam was sure of that as he headed down the hallway towards Frodo’s room. Every year on the anniversaries of his stabbings and losing the ring, he stayed in bed all day with intense pains. But today was just any old day, nothing special at all. And it wasn’t at all like Frodo to sleep so late, even after a night out at the pub.
Sam tapped lightly on the circular door to Frodo’s bedroom. He pressed his ear to the door so he could hear within. “Mister Frodo?” he called when there was no response. A level of panic and worry rose in Sam, and he began very quickly to go through all the possibilities in his mind. Everything from oversleeping to having been kidnapped. It was often that Frodo left to wander about the fields or the edge of the forests alone, but he never left without telling Sam and certainly never left without a good breakfast in his stomach. “Mister Frodo?” Sam called out again, anxiously. He pressed his pointy ear against the thick wooden door as hard as he could, straining to listen.
Finally he heard some movement, and then a soft, “Come in, Sam.” Well, this proved at least he was awake. Things could not be so bad after all.
So Samwise lifted the doorlatch and entered, finding Frodo still in bed. The hobbit looked far better than he had at times during the war, but far worse than he looked normally. Much of it was from sleep and his head of curly dark brown hair was naturally always in tangles. But he looked weary and exhausted, especially in the eyes, and that was a look Sam had hoped never to see upon Frodo’s face again.
Sam mentally double-checked to be sure this wasn’t actually one of the anniversaries. It wasn’t. He was sure of it. Before Sam had a chance to ask what was the matter, Frodo raised himself up on one elbow and leaned forward with a deep breath. “hheee-CHHHH!” He sneezed wetly, the sound strong for such a small nose. He sniffed lightly and raised his head back up. “Sorry, Sam.”
Shaking his head, “No need to apologize to me,” he said softly. “Are you… feeling ill, Frodo?”
Frodo gave a slow, decisive nod. “I do believe that is the word for it.” He rubbed a finger alongside his nose, sniffling. Then cupped his whole hand over his nose and mouth. “hee-KSHHHH! CHIHHH!” He sneezed in rapid succession, snapping forward with each.
Sam shook his head and turned his back to Frodo in order to look through the dresser. He pulled several thick handkerchiefs out from the top drawer and walked over to Frodo. He placed it over Frodo’s hand, letting the hobbit make the rather wet transfer from hand to handkerchief on his own. As Frodo rubbed his nose into the cloth, Sam felt his forehead. It was hot with fever and damp with sweat. “Why did you not call for me?” Sam asked, looking down sympathetically. With a fever on top of the sniffles, he must surely feel as bad as he looked if not worse. “How long have you been ailing?”
“Since last night,” Frodo replied, feeling honesty was the best course of action and feeling too sick to drum up a decent fib anyway. Sam looked a little shocked at this confession, however, not wanting to believe his friend had been sick so long without his noticing. Frodo tried his best to explain. “I did not want to worry you, what with the wedding so near.” Samwise frowned down at him. “You have had quite enough worrying over me to last you a lifetime, my dear Sam.”
Sam’s face softened a little. It was hard to stay cross with Frodo Baggins, especially a sick Frodo Baggins. “I can bear a little more, Mister Frodo,” he said with a smile. Frodo smiled back and felt his hand squeezed reassuringly just as it had been back in Rivendell. It seemed like ages and ages ago, but it was the same comforting squeeze. Sam would always be there to look after him, and Frodo had to admit he was glad for it.
“Now let me get you a cloth for your forehead, and something cool to drink for starters,” Sam said at once. “I’ve made eggs and toast for breakfast but I don’t suppose you’ll be wanting that just now?” Frodo shook his head, looking a bit sorry. “No matter,” said Sam quickly, before Frodo could feel too badly. “Like I said we’ll just start with the drink and go from there.” Frodo nodded back gratefully.
As was the standard procedure when Frodo was feeling unwell, Sam did his best not to pressure him at all. There were some times in life, and Frodo knew this intimately, that one could not avoid pressure and feel it weighing heavily. But this was not one of those times. As Frodo had resigned as Deputy Mayor, only just recently, he did not have that burden. And the wedding festivities seemed far away, though already planned out properly. There was nothing left to do but see Frodo through this as best he could.
Returning to Frodo’s side, he found his friend in the midst of more sneezes which shook him helplessly in bed. Sam helped Frodo sit up against the wooden headboard until the fit passed. “hehh-Chhhhh! CHHHH! Heh… hih-KSHHHH! Hheeee-CHISHHHH!” Sam readjusted the blankets, tucking them around Frodo more securely so they would not come loose from the sneezing hobbit’s movements. Then he put a hand on Frodo’s shoulder, moving with it as the hobbit fell forward with each sneeze, there just as a comforting reassurance more than anything else. “heeKShhhh! hehCHH!” Frodo sniffed into the handkerchief, folded it, and blew his nose. Already early in the morning, and he already sounded exhausted from the process. Frodo balled the handkerchief up in his hand and gave his nose a final swipe before looking up at Sam helplessly, apologetically.
“It’s all right,” Sam said softly. He pried the used handkerchief from Frodo’s fingers and put a fresh, clean one in its place. Then he handed over the drink. “How about a bit of drink?” Frodo took a few gulps of the juice as Sam held the glass to his lips. Sam might have liked Frodo to drink more, but Frodo seemed done after that, and wanting to lie back down. So Sam helped him do so, and then placed the cool compress on his master’s forehead. “There… that’s better, isn’t it?” he asked softly.
Frodo looked up and nodded. His brilliant blue eyes had dulled since the beginning of their adventures, but were bright now only with fever. It was an unnatural look for Frodo, and Sam felt uneasy at it. He swallowed hard and flipped the compress over after a few minutes as the part against Frodo’s head had warmed already from body heat. “Don’t you go worrying now. You just rest,” Sam said, calming a bit when Frodo closed his eyes. A bit, but not much. “I’ll see you through this.”
Frodo smiled faintly. “I know you will, my Sam.” Back to sleep he drifted, quickly and quietly, leaving Sam to hover over him with worry.
*
When he woke not much later, it was to find Sam sitting hunched over in a chair by his bedside. His arms were folded and crossed on Frodo’s thighs, and Sam’s head rested sideways upon them. He was fast asleep, and even calling out to him did not make him stir. It made Frodo smile to remember how difficult a time Sam had once had falling asleep in uncomfortable circumstances. It seemed the lack of comfort in a journey to Mordor had trained him to be able to sleep anywhere. Frodo, on the other hand, found it hard to sleep through the night still and sometimes woke in the middle of the night to turn over and see Sam standing watch over him from the doorway. Such was the routine of life since Sam had moved in with Frodo to make preparations and take care of him.
One thing Sam couldn’t sleep through, however, was Frodo sneezing. It came unexpectedly and powerfully, shaking Frodo where he lay. “heee-CHISHHH!” Sam lifted his head with a start, looking up at Frodo. Frodo rubbed a handkerchief at his nose then reached down and petted Sam’s head affectionately. “Sorry to wake you.” It was his way of saying thank you for staying, knowing Sam understood without actually having to say it.
Sam nodded in a way that made Frodo understand he didn’t mind being woken. For if Frodo was awake, it surely meant he was in need of something. Something Sam could get him. Samwise looked him over critically for a few seconds. “I’ll go get another drink for you. Maybe a few water crackers… and another cool compress…” He left without need of a reply, for the look in Frodo’s eyes said that all the items mentioned were most appreciated.
Frodo spent the mid-day slipping in and out of sleep. He woke to take a few sips of juice. Or fell asleep to the cool cloth wiping his brow. Or blew his nose quietly so as not to miss a word of one of Sam’s songs. Sam, who had always preferred listening to singing, had been so filled with adventures that he was able to make up stories in the way most simply retold events. They were creative, engaging tales of characters with traits so familiar to Frodo that the hobbit was sure he knew where Sam had pulled them. But though Sam’s tales involved battles and overcoming hardships, they were always kind and entertaining and never spoke of anything like what he and Frodo had gone through.
“The one about the Miller and the dragon,” Frodo requested, feeling again like the young man he had once been, eager to hear Bilbo’s tales before bed. But Bilbo never had quite so nice a tune behind his tales as Sam had. And it was a struggle at times to stay quiet and awake to the ending. Sam never minded picking up from the middle and telling it over again until Frodo caught it all, however. Frodo had been through adventures of his own that had claimed his soul, his livelihood. But he enjoyed hearing ones from Sam as he knew they were not real but instead part of his friend. A part he most enjoyed getting to know better.
“Could I get another hanky?” Frodo asked weakly as Sam finished another song, feeling the urge to fall asleep but finding his nose too bothersome at present to allow it.
Sam nodded, already halfway to the dresser to retrieve a few more. His hand grazed Frodo’s forehead after handing a handkerchief over. Frodo felt warm, but slightly better than he had that morning. If the fever continued to decrease at this rate, the illness would be easily gone in a day. Still he sat down in the chair by the bed and patted Frodo’s leg gently.
Frodo acknowledged the touch with a smile, but had more pressing matters to attend to. His nose was tickling again, so that burying his nose in the handkerchief and rubbing through the fabric was not helping any. “ehhh…” He drew a strong breath, then paused. Samwise patted his leg again. The corner’s of Frodo’s mouth turned up in a smile at this, and that few seconds of distraction seemed to be all it took. His face fell and his body stiffened. “heeeChuhhh!” He was tossed forward in bed.
Samwise looked on in worry.
to be continued...
no subject
Date: 2004-05-30 05:43 am (UTC)But happy birthday and glad you like it thus far! *snuggles Frodo*
no subject
Date: 2004-05-30 01:07 pm (UTC)I've got a few notes, though they're mainly editing sorts of things, so if this isn't the sort of feedback you're wanting, I apologise. (Just trying to be helpful, don't want to upset anyone with unsolicited criticisms.)
In paragraph nine: The sentence starting with 'Then' isn't a complete sentence, but it would be if you changed the preceding period to a comma and decapitalised 'Then.'
Paragraph fifteen: You've got two instances of 'already' in the same sentence, and it looks as though the second one is what you mean, not the first. I'd delete the first, or change it to 'only' or something.
Paragraph sixteen: The word 'drink' appears twice, quite close together, and it sounds a bit repetitive. Perhaps change the first one to 'glass' or 'cup.'
Paragraph twenty-three: This is nitpicky, but I don't think a hobbit would look back on his days as a 'young man.' As I recall (and it's been quite a few years,) in the book the word 'man' specifically denotes a human.
Sneezes: I understand why you start them off with a lowercase letter, but when the sneeze is the beginning of a sentence, it looks odd that there's no capital letter.
I hope these might be helpful and not obnoxious.
-Ell
no subject
Date: 2004-06-02 10:16 pm (UTC)