faderift | [open] many meetings

Entry tags:

[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

Post a starter or ask for one!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Sam puffs up, clearly taking her praise of Bill as praise of himself by proxy as he gazes with shining eyes at the pony. "He is special at that; a more intelligent pony you'll never meet, nor a hardier one. Found his way here, didn't he?" He pats Bill's neck affectionately, then glances back at Hermione, noticing her hesitation, the way she clearly wants to pet the pony, and his eyes soften as he smiles. "You can go ahead. He won't bite!"

Hearing the way Sam supports Bill makes that smile turn into a laugh, but before she could comment, he seems to invite her to pet the small pony. Looking at Sam as though to make certain that he's sure, Hermione gingerly reaches out, fingertips lightly brushing along the crown of Bill's head. "I wouldn't think he'd bite if he's as smart as you say. It looked like you were having a bit of a tiff with him, though."

"Oh, well," Sam sighs, giving Bill a wry look. "It's just these stairs; he don't seem to want to go down them today, and I can't think why. It's time for his breakfast and all." He looks helplessly at the pony, unable to fathom not being hungry for breakfast, even if it is just oats. "But he's a good pony, all the same."

"Maybe he isn't hungry," Hermione muses. "If he's never had trouble with stairs before, I hardly think he'd have an issue with them now." With a final little pet at Bill's head, she looks up and looks towards the other end of the courtyard. "There's another set of stairs over there. If he doesn't want to go down either way, maybe you can at least walk a little with him until he's more liable to be hungry."

"Not hungry?" Sam asks in bewilderment. He thinks a bit, brow furrowed. "I...well I suppose it's possible, isn't it? Only it's never happened before." He looks back and forth between one set of stairs and the other. "Now there's an idea! I would have thought he'd had enough walking by now; I don't know that any pony's ever traveled so far as Bill! But if it's walking he wants it's walking he gets."

He glances shyly up at Hermione. "Would you like to walk with us, Miss Hermione? Just up and down the path a bit?"

There could be any number of reasons for an animal to not be hungry at a given time, but Hermione doesn't bring that up. Instead, she only smiles gently at the way Sam looks at her, giving him a little nod. "I'd like that very much, Samwise. It would give us a chance to catch up."

Sam brightens at that, giving her a smile. "That it would!" He turns away from the stairs at last, giving Bill's reins a tug. The pony happily plods along behind him. "What have you been up to, Miss Hermione? It is nice to be back in Skyhold, and out of that awful hot desert, isn't it?"

It's hard not to smile at a pony, at least if your name is Hermione Granger. Giving Bill's neck one last gentle pat, she falls into step besides Sam, focused on engaging him in conversation. "I'll take Skyhold over the desert any day," she agrees. "I'm still working on getting my magic to where it should be, so I was just happy I was able to do enough to get some water to where it was needed out there. I take it you're doing much better now, too, what with there being less of a chance of clumsy witches getting sand in your eyes?"

"Oh don't say that, Miss Hermione," Sam admonishes her gently. "Why it weren't your fault at all - I'm sure you weren't expecting anyone at hobbit-height, when you swept that sand away!" He smiles. "But since you ask, I am doing better now, back in Skyhold, rather than - than anyplace else." He clutches his hand, remembering Macrinus and Weisshaupt, and shivers. "In fact I've just about made up my mind not to leave it again - leastways not until I can go back home, that is."

Hermione can't help laughing good-naturedly at Sam's commentary, though she still shakes her head gently. "I still feel bad for it, though. But I'm glad that Skyhold is treating you better than anyplace else you've found so far. I don't much want to leave here again, too, not unless I'm called to it."

Which, really, she might be asked to do more than he would, given that she can do at least a little magic, but she isn't about to say as much. Sam might have all sorts of hidden talents, after all, and they might just be invaluable under the right circumstances.

"What's your home like, then? I don't believe we got to talk much about where we were from."

His forehead creases in worry, and he looks up at Hermione anxiously. After all, he'd only decided to stay in Skyhold after a succession of terrible things had befallen him, each worse than the last - first falling into the Mire upon his arrival, then being caught in a snowstorm and nearly being lost forever, and finally Macrinus himself, using Sam's shard for his own ends and against his friends. It pains him to think of Hermione experiencing the same sorts of things.

"I do hope you haven't had too hard a time of it!" he says urgently. "Leastways we're both safe here - or so I hope." He shakes his head. "As for my home, why, it's in the Shire, back in Middle-earth - the Shire is the land of hobbits you might say, though of course there are hobbits who live outside of it too, up and around the Bree-land - right alongside the Big Folk, if you can imagine that! But that's not for me; Gamgees are Shire-hobbits born and bred. The Gamgees live in Hobbiton, on Bagshot Row under the Hill. It's a good enough hole I suppose, warm and dry; though it does get a bit cramped at times!" He offers her a smile, trying to forget his earlier worries.

Hermione's had her fair share of bad luck, starting from being dropped into the middle of a battle with demons and Red Templars alike. Between that and the fact that demons have played into almost every single excursion she's made outside of Skyhold, she's not exactly all that anxious to leave the relative security of the fortress.

"I think everyone in Thedas has had a hard time of it, honestly," she sighs gently, but she doesn't say much more on that. Sam is pleasant to be around, and his world sounds delightful, in a simple sort of way. But then, just because he hasn't mentioned war or tragedy doesn't mean that none exists, and she's going to be careful not to risk veering the conversation towards more depressing topics. "So you come from a land where hobbits are predominant, but there are other places where they live among-... Big Folk? Do you mean people like me, or bigger?" Not that Hermione is overly big, but there's no sense in calling them giants if Sam's perception of "giant" might not be the same as hers. "It sounds like you have a very big family. That must be nice. Most of the time, anyway."

"Oh yes - Big Folk's our word for Men, if you follow me. Though I wouldn't say all of them are like you - not near so pretty anyway," he says, blushing. "Most of the world's Men in fact, and dwarves, and Elves. Us hobbits mostly stick to our own little corner, in the Shire." He smiles. "As for family, well, I suppose it can be nice, having lots of people around - there's always someone to talk to, and something to do. I imagine a small one would be nice too, but I couldn't know for sure - I've never known anything else but what I've got!"

He looks up at her, interested. "What about you, Miss Hermione? What's your family like?"

There's a moment of quiet surprise when she realizes that Sam's just called her pretty, but Hermione eventually lets it go with a soft laugh and a bit of a light blush. He means nothing by it, of that she's certain, but it's still unusual for her to spend time with someone so forthright. For now, she listens to what he has to say about his world, thoroughly interested.

"Oh, well... it's just my parents and I. No brothers or sisters or cousins or anything like that. But my best friends more than make up for it. There's Harry, who's also an only child, and whose parents passed away when he was a baby. But then there's Ron, who's one of sev-... six. Six now. He lost a brother recently." Well. So much for staying away from depressing topics. But she's determined not to focus on that, forcing back the lump in her throat and instead continuing, "His mum and dad are like parents to Harry, and like a second set of parents to me. So it feels like I've a much larger family than I do."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[open] many meetings

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject