He was still confused - neither Frodo nor himself had achieved anything much yet, as far as Sam was concerned, save for walking so long and so far it was a wonder their feet hadn't fallen right off. But then Legolas leaned close, squeezing Sam's shoulder and speaking to him reassuringly, and he gave up asking for the moment, merely returning the Elf's smile with a grateful, somewhat watery one of his own.
Thranduil's own reassurances were less easy to accept. Sam darted an uncertain look his way, swallowing hard. Legolas was one thing, being a sort of friend as it were, but the other Elf was so tall and so grand, he couldn't quite bring himself to speak to him with such familiarity.
"Y-yes, Mr. Thranduil, ser," he mumbled instead - the best he could manage. Thankfully a distraction was near at hand, and the best kind. Sam looked at the biscuits with wide, hopeful eyes, and hesitated only briefly before giving Bill an affectionate pat on the nose and hurrying to the table. He scrambled up onto the chair, sitting on his own feet with his legs tucked up underneath him to have a hope of reaching the table, and looked from one Elf to the other.
"My troubles," he repeated, and sighed heavily, the weight of all his anxiety and worry crashing down on him again. "It's - well it's as I told you before. It's the Lady Galadriel." He turned to Legolas, eyes pleading - Legolas must understand, Legolas had been there in the Golden Wood just as Sam had. "They've taken her - they've taken her away and locked her up!" Tears sprang unbidden to his eyes. "Oh it's the awfullest thing. That cold dark cell - and they oughtn't've done it, why even she said so, that she'd done nothing wrong - and of course she didn't, she couldn't. But they won't listen." He wiped away messy tears, shaking his head in misery. "I thought Moria was bad, and Mordor sounded worse, but I never dreamed there'd be a place as bad as this - so lovely and fair on the outside, and full of Elves and good food and - and gardens and all, but it's rotten on the inside, rotten to the core and no mistake, if the Lady Galadriel can be locked up so undignified, and without even so much as a by your leave."
no subject
Thranduil's own reassurances were less easy to accept. Sam darted an uncertain look his way, swallowing hard. Legolas was one thing, being a sort of friend as it were, but the other Elf was so tall and so grand, he couldn't quite bring himself to speak to him with such familiarity.
"Y-yes, Mr. Thranduil, ser," he mumbled instead - the best he could manage. Thankfully a distraction was near at hand, and the best kind. Sam looked at the biscuits with wide, hopeful eyes, and hesitated only briefly before giving Bill an affectionate pat on the nose and hurrying to the table. He scrambled up onto the chair, sitting on his own feet with his legs tucked up underneath him to have a hope of reaching the table, and looked from one Elf to the other.
"My troubles," he repeated, and sighed heavily, the weight of all his anxiety and worry crashing down on him again. "It's - well it's as I told you before. It's the Lady Galadriel." He turned to Legolas, eyes pleading - Legolas must understand, Legolas had been there in the Golden Wood just as Sam had. "They've taken her - they've taken her away and locked her up!" Tears sprang unbidden to his eyes. "Oh it's the awfullest thing. That cold dark cell - and they oughtn't've done it, why even she said so, that she'd done nothing wrong - and of course she didn't, she couldn't. But they won't listen." He wiped away messy tears, shaking his head in misery. "I thought Moria was bad, and Mordor sounded worse, but I never dreamed there'd be a place as bad as this - so lovely and fair on the outside, and full of Elves and good food and - and gardens and all, but it's rotten on the inside, rotten to the core and no mistake, if the Lady Galadriel can be locked up so undignified, and without even so much as a by your leave."