Shadows from the Past
by Rosie Cotton
Much has been said and written on how
the Quest maimed Frodo’s life. But Sam has been through pain and
torture as well and certainly his life has been in a way affected too.
It was a lovely summer evening, the sun had already gone down, yet the
air was still warm. The first stars were blinking in the east and in
the west the sky was a perfect symphony of rose and violet . On the
little blue painted bench next to the Smial’s round green door sat two
Hobbits smoking. For some time the only sound to be heard were the
chirping of the crickets and the croaking of the frogs, but then a low
rumble marred nature’s song. “ Mr. Frodo, you are hungry ! Ninnyhammer
I am, we sat here all evening and I forgot to see to our supper. If
Rosie was here she’d long have made it ready. See, I’m completely good
for nothing now when she’s gone, be it just for a couple of days. I got
so dependent on her though it’s just a couple of months since we got
married.” Frodo laughed softly at his friend’s ramblings when his
stomach moaned again to be filled. “ Your Sam really is a fool, Mr.
Frodo, instead of going in and getting you some food I sit here
gabbing. But I won’t let you starve under my very eyes, Mr. Frodo !”
with these words Sam went into the Smial. Soon after he could be heard
calling through the open sitting room window “Would you like some
sausages ? And I got tomatoes, picked fresh from our garden this very
morning. And Rosie made some bread before she went to Marigold’s. And
there’s a blueberry tart in the pantry...” Frodo was laughing. “Sam,
it’s just you and me, you know I can’t eat that much.” “ I know…..” Sam
sighed and said in a low voice rather to himself: “You used to eat more
than me once…before …” He resolutely swept away the thought that was
slipping into his mind . This evening was too perfect to be thinking of
the past. He started slicing the bread, produced butter and some boiled
eggs from the larder and then went to the stove to fry the sausages. He
reached for the big black cast iron pan hanging with its siblings on a
hook above the stove. Thinking on whether he should make a salad of the
tomatoes or serve them just as they were, he didn’t get a fast hold of
the pan’s handle. It slipped from his grip and the heavy pan came
clashing and clattering down on the stonepaved floor.
Frodo, raised by the shattering noise, rushed into the kitchen. He
beheld a strange sight : His sturdy friend sat on the floor, crying.
His whole body was shaking. His eyes were fixed on the pan. “ Sam, Sam,
what happened ? Are you hurt ?” But the other Hobbit did not answer, he
just sat there staring at the pan, sobbing “This Stinker isn’t going to
mess with my pans, no he won’t.” Frodo knelt down beside Sam, gently
laid his left arm around Sam’s shoulders and with the right hand he
lifted his chin. Sam looked at him, his face tearstained, as if he did
not know him. “Sam, look at me. Don’t you know me ? It’s me, Frodo.”
Sam frowned and looked bewildered as someone who woke up in the middle
of a nightmare. The next moment his face blushed deep red . “ I’m so
sorry , Mr. Frodo, sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m alright,
don’t worry, I’m alright. It’s just, you know, that clatter, it
reminded me of….” “ I know, Sam, I know.” Frodo hugged him close and
Sam allowed it until his tears had dried.
The air was hot, not a breeze stirred. The sky was cloudless and the
sun burned down mercilessly. Sam wiped his brow and realized he wasn’t
even sweating any more. “ This just ain’t natural” he grumbled and kept
on watering his flowerbeds. Usually he would never have dreamed about
watering the plants on mid day but for a few days now it had been so
hot they wouldn’t have lasted the day without an additional sip of
water. “ There you go, my beauties, I know you’re thirsty – I am too”.
The watering can was emptied sooner than he’d expected. With a sigh he
went to get it refilled. The sun made him dizzy and he stumbled a few
times on his way . The well was situated under the shadow of some
beeches in a corner of the garden. Usually it was comfortably cool
here, but Sam noticed no change when he reached the shadow. Instead the
air seemed to be even more stuffy here. Sam peered into the gloomy
depths as the bucket wound its way down. The water surface was a lot
lower than usual. Finally he heard a splash and after a few moments
more he turned the crank around to get the bucket back up. The crank
squeaked piteously and the sound added to Sam’s discomfort.
Squeek...squeek...squeek – it was grueling. When the bucket had finally
reached the brim he took it automatically and poured its contents into
the watering can. All of a sudden something jumped at Sam. Something
small, cold, with long limbs hurled itself right into his face. “ Oi,
get off me!” he shouted reaching for his sword. But his hand only
grasped thin air. He took a deep breath – his lungs seemed to fill
themselves with fire. He was parched, his dry throat hurt him. Panic
welled up in his heart and he felt himself swooning. With an effort he
grabbed his assailant and flung him off. It took some time until his
pulse slowed down and his gaze cleared again.
There in a patch of grass sat a small black frog, eyeing him angrily.
