faderift | [open] many meetings

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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"...Oh thank the bloody maker." Katniss put a hand to her chest, breathing out slowly, before she looks down at the tiny beast. A frown touched her lips, "Sam, if you needed meat, why didn't you come and see me?"

"Come and see you?" Sam looks honestly perplexed. "Begging your pardon, Miss Katniss, but why should I do that? There's plenty of food round Skyhold, if you know where to get it. And I may be from Hobbiton and not 'way out in the Northfarthing, but that don't mean I can't hunt when there's a need same as anybody."

"Well ... because I am a hunter, Sam. It's what I'm good at, outside of scouting. I mean, I could definitely get you something bigger than a nug." She paused, realizing that she might be hurting his pride. "Of course, I couldn't catch one with my bare hands, and if that's what you were looking for..."

"Oh," Sam says, surprised. His pride isn't hurt at all - though he's proud enough of his talent in many things, and rightly so, hunting doesn't happen to be one of them - but he furrows his brow in thought. The Gaffer had traded vegetables for meat off other hobbits, occasionally; but mostly the Gamgees had lived on what could be grown in the garden, supplemented rarely with meat from small animals they trapped themselves. "It's very kind of you to offer, anyhow. But it's as you say, perhaps; I don't know what I'd do with anything bigger - besides having a lot of trouble even getting it into the kitchens!" He grins, then adds, "But I never knew you was a hunter at all!" Which should explain why he hadn't come to her, at any rate.

She gives him a crooked smile, lifting her shoulders in a shrug, "Have been, since I was ten years old. And I'd carry it for you, too. Full service hunter, here."

She looks thoughtful, "Nugs are tasty -- but I would keep from eating them in, ah, pubic. The Nightingale keeps them as pets, you see."

"The Nightingale?" Sam furrows his brow, confused. "Now don't be silly, Miss Katniss! How could a bird keep one o' these as a pet? Specially one as small as a nightingale!" He shakes his head; he may be slow (or so his da had claimed, upon occasion) but he's not stupid.

"... Er, no, Sam. That's - the Nightingale is Sister Leliana. They call her the Nightingale. Well, I guess I call her that too." Her smile is wry, before she pauses, "Ah ... you do know who Sister Leliana is, right?"

He shakes his head, eyes wide and guileless. "I'm afraid not, Miss Katniss. But it's not a surprise; I never seen so many people all in one place before as there is in Skyhold! Why I didn't even know you had a sister!"

Oh ... Oh Sam. Katniss resists the urge to pinch her own brow, before she answers kindly, "Come on, let's take your nug to the kitchen and I'll explain a little more about how the Inquisition works."

Sam smiles, wide and bright. A story, any story, is never something he'll turn down, and an explanation of the Inquisition is close enough to that. "Well, if you insist, Miss Katniss," he says happily. "Or even if you don't! And you can be the first one to taste nug stew."

Katniss couldn't help the smile, but she did add, "I have had nug stew before -- but I am sure you'll be able to put a new twist on it. Now - Sister Leliana isn't my sister. I do have sisters, one of them passed on last year, and the other one is Ariande. Sister Leliana is more of a ... religious title. Ah, did they tell you about the Chantry here?"

Sam looks vaguely guilty, and shakes his head. He'd heard some talk about the Chantry, but it had sounded very much like Big Folk things that didn't concern him, and he had never paid much attention. "No, Miss Katniss," he says meekly. "Leastways - leastways if they did, I wasn't listening." He gives her a pleading look. "Maybe you could tell me?"

She looks down at him, and Maker bless her, she's never turned down someone who needs help. "Sure Sam. I'll be glad to."

[open] many meetings

And Katniss goes whew.

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wanna handwave the rest?

Handwave!