Tolkien Fan Fiction
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| Shadows of the Past, Shades of the Future |
By: Vistula |
| “…and then I saw them, thirteen dwarves hanging from the trees all trussed up like turkeys ready to roast for supper. And supper they were going to be, mind you for sitting right there in the shadows as nice as you please…” here the storyteller forced a shiver and squinted his eyes at his audience of one, “…were the largest…hairiest…and most dangerous looking spiders you could ever imagine….” Eyes round with excitement, young Samwise Gamgee stared intently at the Master of Bag End, hanging on every word of the all too familiar tale. Behind him, lights twinkled to life in the homey windows down the row. Around them, the deepening shadows of early evening swallowed the Shire in what promised to be a clear and cool night. “…closer and closer I crept until I could see their glittering eyes, smell the stink of their…” “SAAAAMWIIIIISE!” Startled, the small lad jumped at the howling of his name from down the row. Looking over his shoulder and into the gathering dark, he frowned at how late it had suddenly become. “Uh oh…that’d be Daisy a lookin’ for me. B..beggin’ yer pardon, Mister Bilbo sir,” he stammered, bounding to his feet and brushing tufts of grass from the back of his britches. “I reckon I done overstayed m’welcome…” “Nonsense lad,” the elder hobbit assured with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Still…best be on your way, before she comes and drags you off by your ear. That one’s a regular terror when her back gets up.” He winked at the lad with a knowing twinkle in his eyes. “We’ll finish the story another time Sam my lad, not like you need that at all…I suspect you could tell it almost as well as I do by now.” “Oh no, Master Bilbo,” he whispered, shaking his head earnestly, “…ain’t no one what tells it like you sir.” Bilbo ruffled the lad’s hair affectionately and shoo’d him on his way. “Best run along now, before your gaffer has to call.” “Oh yes sir! G’nite!” Suitably motivated and nodding his head respectfully to the elder hobbit, the lad turned away. With a wave of his chubby hand, he sped through the gate at Bag End and raced off down the lane towards home. Chuckling contentedly, Bilbo drew deeply on his pipe stem and blew a lazy smoke ring into the still night air. The Gamgee lad never tired of listening to the tales of his master’s burgling days and Bilbo had to admit that he really never tired of telling them. ‘Spiders and Elves,’ Bilbo thought as he smoked through the last remnants of his tobacco, and listened for the slamming of a smial door that heralded the lad’s safe arrival at home. Sam never seemed to mind the spider part, knowing that soon enough there’d be tales of Thranduil’s hall and the Elves of Mirkwood. Sam loved to hear anything about Elves. ‘Mirkwood Elves. Hrrrumph…a bother, the whole lot of them, if you ask me…’ *** Sam’s sister met him at the doorway, hands on her hips and lips pursed in a way that the younger hobbit knew meant trouble. She clucked at him angrily and the sound reminded Sam of a wet hen. “And just where were you?” she questioned, glaring him into the room. “Don’t you know how late it be getting? You’re s’pose to be home afore dark. Your lucky da ain’t home.” Daisy was alternately bossing him around and mothering him – though she was only eight years his senior. Sam frowned at his hands. He knew she’d likely tell their gaffer about his tardiness, especially if he couldn’t come up with a good excuse for his lateness, and the lad didn’t relish the tongue-lashing he’d receive with his first breakfast in the morning. “I were just finishing up at Mister Bilbo’s,” he grumbled vaguely. He pulled off his coat and settled it and his cap on a peg by the door before turning defiantly to face his sister’s reproving gaze. He wasn’t exactly telling a falsehood, but Sam felt a tightening in his chest at the fib just the same. It was wrong to tell a lie, even a little one, and he knew it. Daisy stood silently, reading her younger brother’s face for a long moment before sighing in an all too adult fashion. “Well, you’d best wash yer face and hands real quick then, and be off to bed – afore da gets home an’ dusts yer britches for you.” Satisfied that her authority would not be questioned, Daisy moved away from him and swiveled to tend the fire that still blazed under the kettle in the kitchen hearth. Behind her, Sam screwed his face up into a grimace, poked his thumbs in his ears, flapped his fingers and stuck his tongue out at her back. Then finished with his moment of childish defiance, he turned to skip down the long hallway, heading to the far end of the smial and the little cubbyhole he called his own. Shutting the door with more vigor than necessary, he jumped onto his bed to the echoing of his sister’s irritated voice down the hall. A half full pitcher and washbasin rested on a stand next to the bed, and without leaving his perch, Sam splashed some of the pitcher’s cold water into the bowl. Wetting a scrap of cloth, he scrubbed at his face, neck and ears to remove the day’s collection of grime then ran wet fingers through his tangled hair. Satisfied he’d pass his sister’s inspection should she choose to bother with him, he draped the wet rag over its peg. Sliding from the bed where he’d been kneeling, he took the basin to the room’s small window and dumped the contents outside onto the ground below. The gentle breath of a breeze hinted at a chilly night to come, and for a moment the young hobbit considered closing the shutters. He hesitated, caught all at once by the glow of the moon as it peeked through a thin covering of clouds, and watched – mesmerized – as it painted the leaves on the trees with a silvery sheen. Sighing, his heart filled with dreamy thoughts of Elven homes like Rivendell he turned wistfully away from the portal leaving the wooden barriers open. “‘Tis too pretty a night to be shuttin’ it out,” he whispered to no one in particular. “Near magical it is…” He shucked his clothes and pulled a fresh laundered nightshirt over his tousled head. Then adding another woolen blanket to the pile upon his bed, he crawled into the comfortable nest. Tired from a hard day at play, his head full of fanciful stories, Sam settled in with hopes of adventurous dreams. *** In a darkness broken only by the glowing of the near full moon, Sam startled awake. Silvered light danced across his bed covers and painted pictures on the earthen floor. He wasn’t sure of what exactly had disturbed him, but a sudden crawling of icy gooseflesh dotted his arms and sent shivers trembling up his back. The smial was silent, the residents all likely long in bed, and the lad snuggled the blankets up under his chin. Glancing warily around the room his no longer sleepy eyes caught movement in the far corner. Fear pawed at him and his heart leapt into his throat and seemed to lodge there as he quickly shut his eyes. ‘I be seein’ things,’ he rationalized, covering his face with his hands. ‘Taint nothin’ there.’ He scrunched down in the blankets until only his hand-covered face peered out from the folds of fabric. Peeking through splayed fingers, he glanced once more toward the corner of the room – the one near the door, the one that lay opposite the window. For a moment he saw nothing, only the familiar scarred textures of woodwork that had always been part of a room he’d slept in all his life. But then he saw it again, what his first glance had only hinted at. Long, hairy black legs and a huge bulbous body scuttled across the wall, making quick patterns on the aging boards as the mammoth creature spun the strands of a web that nearly covered the whole surface. ‘Spider!’ The word screamed in Sam’s young mind, causing a nervous sweat to break out on his face and at the nape of his neck. ‘Big…BIG spider!’ Frozen, heart pounding, Sam thought of Mister Bilbo’s stories and the giant spiders of Mirkwood Forest. Mind whirling in fear, he could almost feel the tickling brush of the creatures’ hairy legs against his cheek, crawling on his arm, skittering down his back. Horrified, he imagined the clinging touch of web as the beast wrapped him up in a sticky cocoon before devouring him. And where there was one big spider, could others be far behind? Mister Bilbo’s tale had spoken of many… A scream welled up in Sam’s chest as the creature hesitated in her work, poised in the corner as if ready to pounce on the hapless hobbit lad. He squealed in terror, throwing the blankets over his head to guard against the imminent attack. Tearful and trembling, he covered his face with shaking hands and awaited the end. “Sam-lad?” The voice from behind the door was sleepy but held a hint of concern. The hinges creaked, footsteps scuffled into the room and a weight pressed down into the soft rushes of the bed. “What is it lad?” “Da!” Sam threw back the covers and fell into his father’s waiting embrace, burying his face into the worn material of the elder Gamgee’s nightshirt. “What be wrong, Samwise?” “Don’ let it get you!!” the frightened child squeaked, clinging to his father even tighter. “Let what get me lad?” “There da, don’ you see’t?” Sam waved a shaky finger toward the corner by the door, his face still buried in his father’s shoulder. Glancing to where his son was pointing, Hamfast chuckled gently and squeezed his son’s trembling body. “Oh m’lad…” “Don’ you see it da? The spider! ‘Tis the biggest one you ever seen…big as even ‘em in Mister Bilbo’s stories!” “Is that what this be all ‘bout?” Hamfast asked, frowning over his shoulder at the apparition that still scuttled about on the far wall. “Now lad, you got nothin’ to be ‘fraid of. Look here…” The elder Gamgee released his son, and rising from the bed he crossed to the window. Pointing with a weathered hand, he revealed the shadow’s culprit – a normal garden spider, spinning her web in the opening. Back lit by moon light, the spider and web had been projected onto the opposite wall, creating a larger than life-sized shadow. “‘Tain’t nothing here what can hurt you lad. ‘Tis just a trick of the moon…” *** Bathed in nervous sweat, Sam startled to a sudden wakefulness and shook off the last remnants of a dream not quite remembered. For a moment he was disoriented, unsure of where he’d come to be sleeping and where his master was. ‘Ah yes,’ he breathed, clarity returning as he glanced around the dark grove. ‘’Tweren’t Henneth Annun no more…they’d done left Capt’n Faramir and the rangers earlier that day…or were it yesterday now, he couldn’t tell and they had come some seven or so leagues along since then.’ He wasn’t sure what sound or movement had driven him from his uneasy sleep, but icy gooseflesh still dotted his arms and sent shivers down his back. Well, it certainly hadn’t been Gollum pawing about; the creature had gone off not long after they’d stopped for the night and a quick glance about proved he hadn’t yet returned. But what then? Sam sighed, uncurling the folds of his cloak, and eased to sit with his shoulders sagging against the cold bole of a sheltering tree. At his side, Frodo lay motionless still immersed in deep slumber. Sam watched him in silence, counting his master’s breaths in the stillness of the night. A small smile turned up the corners of his mouth. ‘Good,’ he thought, ‘you sleep on, m’dear Mister Frodo, with no dreamin’ to disturb you. ‘Tis enough of darkness yet to be faced without it haunting your sleepin’ too.’ Remembering the vestiges of his own dream, he rested for a moment, contemplating it in silence. Spiders…now what had dredged up that old memory. Sam had nearly forgotten that night so long ago. He smiled, remembering the gentle way his father had shown him the small visitor to his bedroom window and the way the moon’s light though the opening had swelled her into a foreboding shadow. His da had even shared with him a whimsical spate of hand shadows – rabbits and birds and other silhouette creatures – to help ease the fear that the moon’s illusion had created. And though he’d been reassured by the explanation, some anxiety had remained even as his gaffer had tucked him back under the covers. ‘Tain’t no need to be afeared, lad,’ his da had soothed, smoothing back his unruly curls and caressing his cheek. ‘Long as you be under my roof I sure as won’t be letting nothin’ hurt you.’ He’d not known until much later that the Gaffer had spoken with Mister Bilbo that next morning, asking him to leave off with tales of spiders and such until his lad were a bit older. In his fatherly way, he’d sought to protect his gentle son, to shelter him just a little longer. Now here that same son was, so far from family and home, off with his Mister Frodo on some frightful adventure of his own. ‘Already we’ve face so many horrors more fantastical than Old Mister Bilbo’s stories,’ Sam thought, remembering the Black Riders and all the dark happenings in the bowels of Moria. He reached out a hand to touch Frodo with a feather light touch, trying to reassuring himself with the gentle contact that he wasn’t alone there in the wilderness. ‘I reckon now Frodo that I’ll never see them great spiders of my childhood dreams with quite the same fear as I once did.’ Lying back down, head pillowed on his dwindling pack, Sam shifted about trying to find a comfortable position on the lumpy ground. Though weary to the bone he still found sleep elusive. He knew that all too soon they’d have to be on their way once more, following that creature Gollum toward who knows what new horrors. Sam relaxed, forcing his eyes shut and his anxious mind to silence. Whatever their path may be, he’d deal with it tomorrow – when the morning’s light would chase away the shadows of the past – just like his Gaffer had, that night so long ago. ~~~ Two Towers – Chapter 7: Journey to the Cross-roads “Darkness came early to the silent woods, and before the fall of night they halted, weary, for they had walked seven leagues or more from Henneth Annun. Frodo lay and slept away the night on the deep mould beneath an ancient tree. Sam beside him was more uneasy: he woke many times, but there was never a sign of Gollum, who had slipped off as soon as the others had settled to rest.” |