Chance Encounter, part 33
Apr. 26th, 2005 08:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dreamflowerAnd now for Sam's party...
PART 33
Sam found himself completely flummoxed. This was the *last* thing he had expected. He knew he ought to be saying “You shouldn’t’ve,” because the Gaffer would never have thought it proper to have the gentlehobbits, and especially Mr. Frodo, attending on him and throwing him a party, but he just couldn’t. It felt so good to see everyone in such good spirits, and to see how much they cared.
And there sat the King--Strider, grinning at him like the cat that’s got into the cream. And the King of Rohan and his sister, who would probably be leaving tomorrow or the next day to get things ready for their uncle’s funeral, poor things. How could he grudge them anything that would put a smile on their faces? Gandalf was chuckling at him, as if he knew just what was passing in his head--and he probably did, not even from being a wizard, but just from knowing hobbits so well as he did. All of them and the others as well were regarding him with amusement. He supposed he ought to be saying *something*. He wished he had Mr. Bilbo’s gift for speechifying.
Mr. Frodo was standing there, with his hand on Sam’s shoulder. Sam looked back and up at him.
Frodo chortled. “Sam, don’t you dare say ‘you shouldn’t have’; we’ve had entirely too much fun planning this. Since it seems it will be a while until we see home, I thought a Shire style party would be welcome.”
Sam nodded, eyes shining. Seemed he wouldn’t have to say anything yet after all.
He looked up to see Merry, Pippin and Gimli bringing in the low table from the kitchen, with a lovely cake on it. Another table nearby was laden with other goodies, and--was that a beer keg in the corner?
Menelcar took his harp and went to stand on the stair landing, and started to play a Shire air. Pippin--why where in the world had Mr. Pippin got a fiddle? went to join him. And one of the Rohirrim added a flute--and good heavens! Strider took a drum, a tall thing with a slight hourglass shape to it, and went and sat alongside them, keeping the time with his fingers. Sam’s jaw dropped, and some of the others looked surprised as well to see that.
Gandalf smiled. “That is a drum such as the Easterlings use. It is something he picked up on his many travels in his youth.”
By now, toes were tapping. The musicians had begun to play the air known as Southfarthing Brawl, a dance done in a circle that didn’t need partners. Merry and Frodo grabbed Sam and pulled him up, and they began to show the others how it was done. First Gandalf, and then Legolas and then Éowyn and Faramir came to join in, and soon everyone did, as the music grew faster and faster.
Everyone was puffing hard when it finished.
The musicians played several more toe-tapping Shire melodies, and then Menelcar and Pippin sang. They sang some old Shire songs and some of Mr. Bilbo’s songs, and Sam found himself missing old Mr. Bilbo something fierce. Oh, wouldn’t he love to hear about this!
Menelcar and Pippin had just finished the song about “Princess Mee” and then Pippin spoke up.
“Sam, Merry and I have a song we made just for the party. Merry made up most of the words, and it is set to the tune of ‘Down the Green Hills’.”
He played just a bit of that sentimental air, a favorite in the Shire with fiddlers and pipers alike, and then he stopped to sing, his voice so clear and sweet.
“The Road has brought us ever on
A long and winding way,
And step by step it lead us on
Through fire and flood and dark and dawn
Further from home each day.
Of the world’s beauty and sorrow
There is much we can tell,
And through darkness and through shadow,
We have fought to find tomorrow,
And hoped all would be well.
No matter how far we would roam,
Together or apart,
When we struggled on all alone,
Our dreams were always of home,
For there we kept our heart.
Where the Brandywine meanders
Down through the rushes green,
In rills and ripples wanders
On past all the gentle splendors
Of every rustic scene.
Where the scent of summer clover
So sweetly fills the air,
And the bees through fields of heather
Over open blossoms hover
On warm mornings so fair.
Oh, there is much we can admire
Here in this world of Men,
But we will find our heart’s desire
On down the Green Hills of the Shire;
We will be home again.”
Pippin’s green eyes glistened when he finished, and Sam found himself sniffling. Oh, he did so want to go home soon. He missed his Gaffer and his sisters and his dearest Rosie. He felt a hand tighten on his shoulder, and looked to see Mr. Frodo’s tears were running down his cheeks. And Mr. Merry was dashing away tears as well, impatiently.
But as he looked about the room, he realized even the Big Folk seemed to have been affected by the song. The hobbits were not the only ones with tears in their eyes.
Menelcar waited for a moment, and then to lighten the mood, began another song, a comic song about a young Man trying to court a farmer’s daughter, while all along the lass saucily denied him. Soon there were chuckles and tapping toes once more.
Sam was glad. Mr. Pippin’s song was beautiful, and he was glad to have heard it, but he wanted the evening to end on a jolly note.
All too soon, it seemed, some of the guests took their leave. The Rohirrim were the first to go, for as Sam had thought, they would begin their solemn journey to Edoras on the morrow. Faramir also left, for he wished to spend a bit of time with Éowyn before she left.
The others stayed a bit longer, but eventually, only the King was left, and then he, too, reluctantly took his leave.
“Now, Sam,” said Pippin, “you just hie yourself off and relax. This was your Party, and you are not to do any of the cleaning up.”
So Sam went off to the little room that was used for a study, and attempted to write a letter to Rosie. He never seemed to get anywhere with one, but it made him feel closer to her to try.
Legolas, Gimli and even Gandalf helped the other three hobbits with the washing up, and then the weary hobbits made their way to bed.
About an hour after they had retired, Legolas crept down to the first floor room the hobbits shared. He put his hand to the doorknob.
“Legolas.”
He turned. “Mithrandir. How is it that I did not hear you?”
“I can be quiet when I wish, Master Elf. And what are you doing?” But it was very clear from his tone of voice that he knew quite well already.
“They are resting quietly these nights. If I am there, I can stave off the ill dreams.”
“And do they *know* you are doing this for them?”
He flushed. “No. I did not wish them to feel under obligation or to thank me.”
“I thought as much. It is one thing to give them occasional respite--*with* their permission. It is quite another to be doing this night after night, every night.”
Legolas shrugged. “I would do it for them the rest of their lives if necessary to spare their suffering.” He looked up with a glint of defiance. “They have suffered enough already, I think.”
“It is not so simple a matter as that, Master Greenleaf,” the wizard said, shaking his head. “Go you on your way and rest this eve. *I* will watch over them tonight; but on the morrow, we will be having a talk with Frodo, and with the others as well. I think you may find that meaning well does not always provide a solution.”
Legolas sighed, but one did not argue with this White Wizard.
Gandalf quietly entered the hobbit’s chamber.
PART 33
Sam found himself completely flummoxed. This was the *last* thing he had expected. He knew he ought to be saying “You shouldn’t’ve,” because the Gaffer would never have thought it proper to have the gentlehobbits, and especially Mr. Frodo, attending on him and throwing him a party, but he just couldn’t. It felt so good to see everyone in such good spirits, and to see how much they cared.
And there sat the King--Strider, grinning at him like the cat that’s got into the cream. And the King of Rohan and his sister, who would probably be leaving tomorrow or the next day to get things ready for their uncle’s funeral, poor things. How could he grudge them anything that would put a smile on their faces? Gandalf was chuckling at him, as if he knew just what was passing in his head--and he probably did, not even from being a wizard, but just from knowing hobbits so well as he did. All of them and the others as well were regarding him with amusement. He supposed he ought to be saying *something*. He wished he had Mr. Bilbo’s gift for speechifying.
Mr. Frodo was standing there, with his hand on Sam’s shoulder. Sam looked back and up at him.
Frodo chortled. “Sam, don’t you dare say ‘you shouldn’t have’; we’ve had entirely too much fun planning this. Since it seems it will be a while until we see home, I thought a Shire style party would be welcome.”
Sam nodded, eyes shining. Seemed he wouldn’t have to say anything yet after all.
He looked up to see Merry, Pippin and Gimli bringing in the low table from the kitchen, with a lovely cake on it. Another table nearby was laden with other goodies, and--was that a beer keg in the corner?
Menelcar took his harp and went to stand on the stair landing, and started to play a Shire air. Pippin--why where in the world had Mr. Pippin got a fiddle? went to join him. And one of the Rohirrim added a flute--and good heavens! Strider took a drum, a tall thing with a slight hourglass shape to it, and went and sat alongside them, keeping the time with his fingers. Sam’s jaw dropped, and some of the others looked surprised as well to see that.
Gandalf smiled. “That is a drum such as the Easterlings use. It is something he picked up on his many travels in his youth.”
By now, toes were tapping. The musicians had begun to play the air known as Southfarthing Brawl, a dance done in a circle that didn’t need partners. Merry and Frodo grabbed Sam and pulled him up, and they began to show the others how it was done. First Gandalf, and then Legolas and then Éowyn and Faramir came to join in, and soon everyone did, as the music grew faster and faster.
Everyone was puffing hard when it finished.
The musicians played several more toe-tapping Shire melodies, and then Menelcar and Pippin sang. They sang some old Shire songs and some of Mr. Bilbo’s songs, and Sam found himself missing old Mr. Bilbo something fierce. Oh, wouldn’t he love to hear about this!
Menelcar and Pippin had just finished the song about “Princess Mee” and then Pippin spoke up.
“Sam, Merry and I have a song we made just for the party. Merry made up most of the words, and it is set to the tune of ‘Down the Green Hills’.”
He played just a bit of that sentimental air, a favorite in the Shire with fiddlers and pipers alike, and then he stopped to sing, his voice so clear and sweet.
“The Road has brought us ever on
A long and winding way,
And step by step it lead us on
Through fire and flood and dark and dawn
Further from home each day.
Of the world’s beauty and sorrow
There is much we can tell,
And through darkness and through shadow,
We have fought to find tomorrow,
And hoped all would be well.
No matter how far we would roam,
Together or apart,
When we struggled on all alone,
Our dreams were always of home,
For there we kept our heart.
Where the Brandywine meanders
Down through the rushes green,
In rills and ripples wanders
On past all the gentle splendors
Of every rustic scene.
Where the scent of summer clover
So sweetly fills the air,
And the bees through fields of heather
Over open blossoms hover
On warm mornings so fair.
Oh, there is much we can admire
Here in this world of Men,
But we will find our heart’s desire
On down the Green Hills of the Shire;
We will be home again.”
Pippin’s green eyes glistened when he finished, and Sam found himself sniffling. Oh, he did so want to go home soon. He missed his Gaffer and his sisters and his dearest Rosie. He felt a hand tighten on his shoulder, and looked to see Mr. Frodo’s tears were running down his cheeks. And Mr. Merry was dashing away tears as well, impatiently.
But as he looked about the room, he realized even the Big Folk seemed to have been affected by the song. The hobbits were not the only ones with tears in their eyes.
Menelcar waited for a moment, and then to lighten the mood, began another song, a comic song about a young Man trying to court a farmer’s daughter, while all along the lass saucily denied him. Soon there were chuckles and tapping toes once more.
Sam was glad. Mr. Pippin’s song was beautiful, and he was glad to have heard it, but he wanted the evening to end on a jolly note.
All too soon, it seemed, some of the guests took their leave. The Rohirrim were the first to go, for as Sam had thought, they would begin their solemn journey to Edoras on the morrow. Faramir also left, for he wished to spend a bit of time with Éowyn before she left.
The others stayed a bit longer, but eventually, only the King was left, and then he, too, reluctantly took his leave.
“Now, Sam,” said Pippin, “you just hie yourself off and relax. This was your Party, and you are not to do any of the cleaning up.”
So Sam went off to the little room that was used for a study, and attempted to write a letter to Rosie. He never seemed to get anywhere with one, but it made him feel closer to her to try.
Legolas, Gimli and even Gandalf helped the other three hobbits with the washing up, and then the weary hobbits made their way to bed.
About an hour after they had retired, Legolas crept down to the first floor room the hobbits shared. He put his hand to the doorknob.
“Legolas.”
He turned. “Mithrandir. How is it that I did not hear you?”
“I can be quiet when I wish, Master Elf. And what are you doing?” But it was very clear from his tone of voice that he knew quite well already.
“They are resting quietly these nights. If I am there, I can stave off the ill dreams.”
“And do they *know* you are doing this for them?”
He flushed. “No. I did not wish them to feel under obligation or to thank me.”
“I thought as much. It is one thing to give them occasional respite--*with* their permission. It is quite another to be doing this night after night, every night.”
Legolas shrugged. “I would do it for them the rest of their lives if necessary to spare their suffering.” He looked up with a glint of defiance. “They have suffered enough already, I think.”
“It is not so simple a matter as that, Master Greenleaf,” the wizard said, shaking his head. “Go you on your way and rest this eve. *I* will watch over them tonight; but on the morrow, we will be having a talk with Frodo, and with the others as well. I think you may find that meaning well does not always provide a solution.”
Legolas sighed, but one did not argue with this White Wizard.
Gandalf quietly entered the hobbit’s chamber.