[open] many meetings

[harthad_uluithiad]

WHO: Samwise Gamgee and YOU
WHAT: Sam is back in Skyhold and never leaving again, he means it for real this time, like no seriously guys that's it
WHEN: Post-Weisshaupt (Justinian) through Solace, whenever you want it to be
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: Macrinus was mean to him :( also warning for cruelty to nugs (sorry Leliana)

i. at the sign of the prancing pony

"Now, come along, Bill," Sam says patiently. He gives the pony's reins a tug, fixing him with a chastising look. "You know you won't get no oats til you go on down to the stables."

But Bill only tosses his head and whinnies loudly, stamping his foot. Sam sighs, looking down the long stone staircase leading down to the gardens, and eventually on across Skyhold to the stables below. "I just don't understand it," he says, half to himself, half to the pony. "You've always wanted your breakfast before." He looks back at Bill, now with a frown of disappointment. "Don't tell me you're ascared of these old stairs now. They can't hurt you, not with me there to keep you from falling."

ii. of herbs and stewed...rabbit?

Sam looks doubtfully down at the creatures hopping peacefully along the ground in front of him. "I don't know about this," he muttered. "I do wish there were a nice brace of coneys around - or even some pork, if wishes it is! Well there's not, and that's all there is to it." He sighs, bending down, and suddenly he goes very still. Clad in his Elven-cloak as he is, he seems almost to disappear from view, and even those who had known he was there might be hard pressed to keep sight of him.

One of the creatures - something not unlike a rabbit in fact, but bald and pink of skin, hops closer, blissfully unaware of Sam's presence. Quick as a whip the hobbit's hand darts out, and he snags it by the neck, yanking it off the ground. A sharp crack and the nug goes limp, head lolling.

Sam gets to his feet, still studying the creature skeptically. "Leastways there's no chance of fur getting into the stew," he muses optimistically, and heads for the kitchens, his spoils in tow.

iii. a knife in the dark (closed to thranduil)

He still dreams of it, sometimes - Weisshaupt Fortress. The fortress itself hadn't been a bad place, if a little hard and cold for Sam's taste, but a stone castle isn't something to cause nightmares, even a dark and dank one. No, what's stuck with him are the demons, and the pain in his hand.

He wakes with a cry, sitting bolt upright in bed and looking down to find his left hand cradled in his right, the thumb rubbing rhythmically up and down the glowing green mark. Sam studies it, swallowing hard. He's never tried to use the mark to close rifts, nor to do anything else; in fact he'd done his best to ignore it as much as possible ever since his arrival. But it's impossible to ignore now, not when he can remember Macrinus yanking hard at his wrist, sending searing pain through his hand and manipulating the mark to do...something.

Something that had hurt people.

iv. wildcard

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