[open] concerning hobbits

[harthad_uluithiad]

WHO: Samwise Gamgee and EVERYONE HE CAN FIND
WHAT: Sam's arrived at Skyhold and is exploring! Also asking questions. All the questions.
WHEN: After arriving from the Fallow Mire
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: Feel free to meet Sam in any part of Skyhold! He'll be all over.

He'd tried to stick close to who he'd already started privately thinking of as his new friends - the other Sam and the wizard Twisted Fate. He'd even glimpsed, once or twice, the Man who'd pulled him out of the Mire in the first place, and saved him from being drownded. But the road from the Fallow Mire had been long, and Sam had spent much of it on his own, tucked away in small corners of wagons or sitting astride horses alongside dwarves, being too short to walk and have a hope of keeping up.

And when they'd arrived at last, he'd found himself suddenly left completely to his own devices.

Skyhold. He rolls the word around in his mind, staring up, up at the battlements and the clouds beyond. It's a good enough name for the place, he supposes, being up in the mountains as it is. And there's something in it that appeals to him - it's not quite Elvish, not quite Rivendell or Lothlórien, but it's a bit more fanciful than Hobbiton or Bywater, he thinks. As for the place itself, he finds himself a bit overwhelmed - not only with the size (which is enormous in its own right, apart from everything in it being built proportionate to Big People), but with the ceaseless activity and the seemingly endless places to explore and get lost in.

He finds the kitchen first, hobbit-senses guiding him true, but after he's snacked his fill he finds himself wanting to explore more, and he steps carefully down the stairs into the yard. There are folk of all shapes and sizes everywhere (though nobody he recognizes), and he takes a deep breath before walking forward, not quite sure where he's going.

There are Elves here; he knows that much. If nothing else, perhaps the Elves will know more about what's happened and why he's come here. Perhaps they'll at least know Gandalf's name.

Comments

[harthad_uluithiad]

Sam blushed, ducking his head at the Elf's praise. He tugged at his cloak again, stroking his fingers a bit more thoughtfully along the fabric.

"It's a fine gift indeed, my lady," he assured her. "And I've still got a bit of elven rope with me, having taken a length of it from the boat for safekeeping, begging your pardon. And this of course."

He reached into his pocket, and slowly drew out a small grey box. Though his hands and face were grubby and his clothes a bit threadbare and ragged after his long journey, the box was still in perfect condition, and he handled it with a special care and reverence as he held it out for her to see.

[laurenande]

Galadriel watched as he withdrew the box from his pocket, her curiosity piqued in the strangest way. He had been given these things, all of them wrought by her hand, borne of Lorien, and seeing each of them revealed without memory of giving them? It was not unlike staring into the Mirror, watching the threads of fate as they drew upon the unfamiliar. She knew what she saw was a reflection of herself, but she did not recognize it.

He held out the grey box, pristine and cared for, and Galadriel's smile fell away in shock.

On the lid it still bore the mithril rune for her name.

"I gave you this?" Galadriel asked distantly and reached forward. Her fingers lighted on the box delicately and, without thought for propriety nor asking for his permission, she lifted it from his hand and drew it closer.

The box was old, by any measure it was a relic, but it had little power beyond that which had crept into it over thousands of years. It was a sentimental thing; the container of a far more precious gift, and Galadriel's attention was consumed by it as she opened the lid.

What she found, she did not expect.

She stared a moment, caught in silence and confusion, and the nature of her gift, of what she held, gradually became apparent. This gift was not so great in magnitude as she had expected; it was a practical thing, something fond and, daresay, optimistic. Why she had chosen to give him this, in this container, was baffling but she did not question it. She had not gifted him the Elessar but, looking upon the contents of the box, she found them far more precious than even the clear green light of that brooch.

"It is from my garden," she said, her voice quiet and distant with thought. Her fingers grazed the soil and, without her leave, a great, longing sorrow welled up within her. By the grace of the Valar, or perhaps the gods of Thedas, her composure was steady as she closed the lid again. She did not weep, but the tears that found their way down her pale cheeks were not thin.

[harthad_uluithiad]

Sam waited patiently, not minding in the least when Galadriel picked up the box for a closer look. It wasn't quite fair to her, after all, that she'd given it to him and couldn't remember doing so; he could hardly blame her for wanting to see just what it was.

"Yes, m'lady," he answered her, but she didn't answer, and he fell silent, watching curiously as she gazed upon the small box, seemingly lost in her own thoughts. Curiosity was lost to concern as she continued to stare almost obsessively at it, and Sam was just about to ask if she was feeling quite herself when she closed the lid again.

He looked up at her face, and was struck with horror at what he saw. Tears tracked wide paths down her cheeks, marring her otherwise perfect features, and Sam's heart sank right down to his toes as he inwardly cursed himself for a fool.

"D-don't cry, my lady!" he cried, guiltridden and panicked; he would have done anything in that moment to stop her tears, to see her smile again. He thrust the box towards her in offering, and if he'd been a bit taller he might have forced it into her hands. "You can have it back. I don't need it; not like you do, now that you're so far from home. There's plenty of garden for me here anyhow. Please, please don't be sad!"

[laurenande]

As such request often were, the hobbit's cry was counter-productive at best. He was so obvious in his dismay that Galadriel could nearly feel it radiating off his heart. Another tear tracked down her cheek and she regarded him sadly, even as he held the box aloft and all but jumped to press it back into her hands.

"Be calm, Master Hobbit," Galadriel said, though this time her voice was not nearly so startled or loud as it had been when he first crashed into her.

He offered to return it, this piece of home wrapped safely in sentiment and nostalgia. She longed for it, in as much as she could long for so simple a thing, but she did not need it...not as he would. Hope was such a small thing, fleeting and delicate, and she could think of no other reason she'd have given him such a gift. It was worthless for his travels--more than that, it was a burden to be dragged into the dark lands. He needed hope more than she, at least, if his travels were what she feared they were.

It was simply a fragment of Arda; for her, it was something tangible and little else, something to linger over and mourn.

"I am simply homesick, you needn't worry," Galadriel told him and, once she'd brushed her fingers across her cheeks, her tears were but a memory.

"That gift was given to you. I would not reclaim it, nor any of the others, for that is not their fate. They are yours and were not given lightly." She could not muster a smile, but she did not look so sad as she lowered her hands and hid them between her sleeves again. "But I would ask something of you, Master Hobbit, if you would grant it.

"Tell me, for time has stolen our introductions, what is your name?"

[harthad_uluithiad]

He couldn't help her, not even in this small way. Sam looked crestfallen, but he took the box back, carefully tucking it away again. His expression was full of anxious worry as he looked up at her, and his heart sank a little lower when she regarded him still without smiling.

Her question surprised him at first, before he realized that of course she wouldn't know his name if she hadn't met him yet. "Samwise Gamgee, my lady," he answered, and bowed low. He might have said something more, but words failed him; everything he'd said to her so far certainly didn't seem to have done much good.