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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Sam beamed, though he refrained from calling Kirk anything for the moment. Being told he could call his betters (as he still thought of most everyone in Skyhold) by their given names was one thing; actually doing it was something else altogether. "And a fine trot it is too, I'm certain; and a fine start," he said. "Are you practicing now? Perhaps you could show me - unless you've already finished?"

"One thing you should know about me, Sam - I never miss the chance to show off," he grinned, taking up the reigns a bit more firmly and clucking his tongue. He squeezed with his thighs and set the gelding off.

It was a slow trot, the gelding willing to pick up the pace, but only the bare minimum. He concentrated and began to rise and fall with the horse's slow gate, posting as he had been taught though he wasn't sure if he was on the right leg, or if it mattered all that much. He went around his little patch twice before slowing back to a walk, smiling at this small achievement.

Sam watched with eager and genuine interest, beaming and applauding when Kirk returned. From anyone else it might have seemed sarcastic or overdone; not from Sam.

"Well done, sir! Not that I know about horse-riding, mind; that's more the Brandybucks' style than the Gamgees. Why I never had no pony of my own before Bill. Still and all, it's a fine horse, isn't it? And I daresay it likes you, too," he ventured, looking affectionately at the animal.

It was sweet how earnest Sam was in his pleasure at seeing even this small success. It warmed Kirk and he felt himself flushing slightly around a smile, rubbing the back of his head. He couldn't say why, but it felt particularly good to have the little hobbit's praise.

"Well, he's not really mine - I got permission to use him for my lessons," he explained, shifting his weight and swinging off, dropping down. He winced when he hit, rubbing his thighs. "Oh, that is going to take getting used to..."

Sam's enthusiasm was undimmed. "I don't know that it matters to him much," he said thoughtfully. "Treat him right, feed him oats, and he'll do the same for you! Well not the oats perhaps," he added quickly. "Has he got a name? Oh, but your poor legs. Don't you worry about that none; they'll strengthen right up!"

"Are oats bad for a horse? I thought that was part of their normal diet," he asked, somewhat concerned now. He didn't regularly feed the horse, but he helped out a bit with its care. He was riding and using him, it felt only natural he should take on some responsibility for the animal.

"I am glad you have such faith in me," he huffed, rubbing a thigh as they tingled. He would need to make sure he rubbed some ointment on them later, probably. "Don't happen to have anything for that, would you Sam?"

Sam gives Kirk a politely confused look. "Well of course they are," he says, baffled. "I said to feed him, didn't I?" Breezing right past their miscommunication - perhaps Mr. Jim had simply forgotten that quick - he moves on to the next topic of conversation. "Well, there's not much for it in the end but to rest up and give it time. A day or two and you should be right as rain! Though you might try boiling a bit of lavender or mint, and rubbing it in."

Oh, he must have misheard him then. The pain in his thighs was muddling his head, it seemed.

"Heh, you should set up as an apothecary," he chuckled. "You certainly seem to know more than enough about plants. I bet a lot of people would be happy for little remedies like that."

Sam shakes his head, gaze firmly fixed on the ground.

"I'm no healer," he protests, "and we've got plenty of those. Anyhow someone's got to grow the plants, and make sure we've got plenty of all sorts - when they're needed."

"Ah, so you are our resident herb farmer then? That's equally as important. Apothecaries don't have much without their supplies, right?" he beamed at him, turning to lead his horse back into the stables to unsaddle him and rub the beast down.

"That's true enough," Sam agrees. "And it's not as easy as you might think! But the soil's good here, and it's warm enough despite the snow outside; I've grown plants in worse places." He pauses, thinking. "But what do you do in Skyhold, Mr. Jim, apart from learning to ride? It seems everyone does something here, even those up at the very top." Not like Hobbiton, where Mr. Bilbo and Mr. Frodo too had lived a life of leisure - at least until adventure had stolen them both away.

That was a good question, wasn't it? What did he do here? Odd jobs to earn his coin, but that wasn't really much of a purpose, was it? So he shrugged as he walked, the clop of his horses' hooves filling the quiet.

"Well, I've taken to teaching some - math and science and some hand-to-hand defense," he said. "I suppose that's what I do. Which is something since when I'm honest a lot of this is very much out of my depth."

Sam looks surprised. "Begging your pardon, but I can't see you as much of a schoolteacher," he confesses. "Do you mean to say you teach people their numbers, and - and nature and things? And how to fight?" It seems an collection of subjects, but then, Mr. Jim's a bit odd himself, at least in Sam's estimation.

"Yeah, that's about right. I help people with basic math all the way up to some more complicated stuff, and the same with science," he nodded. "I'm good at it, back home, so I figured I might as well put it to use and spread knowledge while I'm here. I'm of the mind everyone should know the basics - knowledge is power, after all."

[open] many meetings

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