Bandages

 

By LejindayBunny

A short LotR fanfiction

A/N: I wrote this during midterms so excuse me if it’s a little depressing. I think it’s cute though. Set rather a few years before the ring quest. I’m posting it in honor of dear Sam’s birthday which was this Saturday, April 6th. Oh, and no I don’t really think the Gaffer was that bad, it just made a good story.

Disclaimer: JRR Tolkien owns The Lord of the Rings, not me. Unless I’m his reincarnation.

Bandages

Sam slumped in through the little doorway, tired and more than a bit sunburned. In one hand he carried his gardening shears, and under the other arm; a book Mr. Bilbo had lent him. He’d been working in the front garden all day, until Bilbo had called him in for tea. It was a routine now, having started nearly four years before.

Sam remembered the first time he’d been asked in. He’d thought it hardly proper but the master of Bag End insisted. Eccentric, they called him. Sam thought Bilbo was the best Hobbit ever lived. But he’d shown Sam his book and asked him what he thought of it. Poor Sam had confessed that he didn’t know how to read and the elder Hobbit had declared firmly that he would teach him.

It had taken the better part of two years, since he could only spend about an hour a day practicing, and Sam wasn’t the fastest learner.

Nowadays when he invited the young gardener in he showed him bits of poetry he was writing or told him old stories. Sam especially loved hearing about elves.

Some days when he was leaving he’d see Mr. Bilbo’s nephew coming back with his two friends. Today though, Frodo hadn’t gone out, his friends had come there, and Bilbo had been doing something he’d always been good at, hosting. He’d lent Sam the book that he was holding now and sent him home a little early.

Samwise looked around the small hole, it seemed that he was the only one home, but he didn’t want to take chances by making any loud noises. He half crept across the room and sat down on the floor in a corner beside the table.

He opened the tome and read the first page slowly, the script was difficult for him.

He heard someone enter the room and looked up. A diminutive Hobbit girl with pigtails and a pink dress stood looking at him.

“Whatcha got Sammy?”

He tried to hide it. “Nothing,” he immediately regretted saying.

“DADDY DADDY DADDY DADDY DADDY!!!! SAMMY’S GOT SOMETHING AND HE WON’T LET ME SEE IT!!!!”

Through the doorway stalked Hamfast Gamgee, a fat balding Hobbit with a ferret-like nose.

“What ya got there, boy?”

“N-nothin'”

“Don’t you lie to me, boy,” he said sharply. “Give it here.”

Cowering he handed over the book.

His Father’s face twisted with rage. “SO! You been stealin’ Mr. Bilbo’s books!” he hit Sam across the face.

“I- I haven’t!” he insisted tearfully. “Mr. Bilbo lent it to me he did!”

“I’ve heard enough of you lies, ninnyhammer! Why would he lend YOU a book?!”

“He… wanted me to, to read it, sir.”

He struck the boy again. “YOU CAN’T READ!”

“I… I can! Mr. Bilbo, he TAUGHT me.”

The Gaffer was furious, “YOU THINK YOU TOO GOOD FOR US? DO YA BOY?!”

“No,” he whispered, “I just-“

“You jus’ WHAT?! You don’ wanna be a Gamgee you kin jus’ gimmee back that name a yours an take another one!! There one ya want. IS THERE?!” He leered at the cringing Hobbit boy. Sam looked at the floor. “LOOK AT ME WHEN I’M TALKING TO YOU!!!”

Baggins, Samwise thought piteously. He lifted his eyes. “N-no sir,” he squeeked.

“YOU GET OUTTA MY HOUSE YOU UNGRATEFUL LITTLE WRETCH!” he screamed, face red.

Sam wimperingly got up to leave.

“DON’T YOU TURN YOUR BACK ON ME BOY! YOU GET BACK HERE! I AIN’T FINISHED WIT YOU YET!”

He sank back to the floor against the frenzy of his father.

He kicked the helpless boy in the ribs. There was a sickening crack. “That’s right you little nothing,” he spat, voice dripping venom. He put his foot forcefully on the boy’s back. “Kiss the floor! I said KISS IT.” His father was practically foaming at the mouth.

Sam was sobbing now from the pain and humiliation. He was sure that at least one of his ribs was broken and a bruise was forming across his face. His choking breath was painful and he obediently put his lips to the dirty, bare floor.

Why won’t he just let me leave? Sam thought despairingly. This was what always happened, no matter what he did to prevent it his father always found some reason to scream at and beat him.

He kicked him harder this time, missing the ribs and hitting his arm, and an even louder ‘crunch!’ was heard. Sam gave a strangled cry of pain.

This seemed almost to bring the Gaffer back to sanity, for he kicked him one more time, the boy choking back a yelp and growled, “You get to your room boy, before I change my mind. And remember, it’s more than you deserve.”

He jerked Sam to his feet and shoved him.

He limped piteously off to his room, left arm hanging uselessly at his side the other holding Bilbo’s book. The gaffer said nothing.

Once in his room Sam shut the round door with his foot and lay on his creaky old bed, his face buried in his pillow. The tears still ran freely from his big brown eyes.

His whole left side ached. His face was swelling and his arm, broken.

If only he was an elf like in one of Mr. Bilbo’s stories. Then, thinking of that he realized that his father would still make him go to work the next day. The thought half cheered, half set him into another round of sobs.

The next day the sun shone brightly and Sam was discovering that one handed gardening didn’t work very well. He couldn’t use his tools with just one hand and every time he tried to use his left arm he’d wince, gasp in pain and keep working.

After a while he needed to sit down and rest. He held his arm and ribs and tried to wish the hurt away. It was like this that Frodo found him.

“Is something wrong?” a light voice asked.

Sam jumped up immediately, “No nothing’s wrong- aah!” He winced as he stretched his left arm much too far.

“Now, you can’t tell me that that is nothing. You look very hurt and sound it too. Tell me what happened,” he demanded, concerned.

“Twasn’t nothin’ Mr. Frodo, sir. I – I took a fall this mornin’ and…” he trailed off.

“That must have been quite a fall. You look as though you must have broken something.”

“I’m fine…” he picked up his shears and trembled in pain again.

“And what about your face? I think you’re hurt more than you’re trying to let on. Sam, is it?”

Sam nodded.

“Well you’d better let me see so I can do something about it.”

He shook his head.

“Then I suppose I’d better just tell my Uncle then,” he said coolly, “He can’t have you gardening like that.”

“No please sir!” Sam cried out, “Don’t tell Mr. Bilbo, he’ll worry unnecessarily.”

“Well I am ALREADY worried about you and it IS necessary so you’d better take off you shirt and let me see what’s wrong,”

Obediently Sam reached for his shirt buttons and shuddered with pain again.

“On second thought I’d better do that.”

“No, I-I’ve got it,” Sam quickly and painfully doffed his shirt.

“Well look at that,” Frodo gingerly ran a finger over Sam’s arm. “That’s a break if I ever saw one. And your ribs too! Where did you fall from, a cliff?”

“I, I’m rather clumsy, sir.”

“Oi! Pippin!” Frodo called over his shoulder, “Get over here!”

A Hobbit jumped down from a nearby tree and jogged over.

“What is it, huh?”

“Go into the house and bring me some bandages, Pippin.”

He made a face, “It’s always Pippin do this and Pippin do that. What am I, you errand boy?”

Frodo sighed, “Would you please just get me some bandages? We can discuss how badly I mistreat you later if you really must.”

Pippin walked off in the direction of the hole, grumbling a little to himself.

“You didn’t have to make ‘im go Mr. Frodo,” Sam said, ” I coulda gotten-“

Frodo looked at him and he shut up.

Someone came running up to them. It was Merry. “Hey, Frodo, have you seen Pippin?” he asked.

“I sent him to fetch something for me.”

“Ah, Hey, what happened to him?” Merry gestured towards Sam.

“He seems to have had a nasty fall. Pippin’s getting him some bandages.”

“Must have been some fall. I’m Merry, you?”

“Sam Gamgee, sir.”

“Ah, no need for that. You’re Bilbo’s gardener’s kid aren’t you?”

Sam nodded.

Just then Pippin came back. “Here’s you bandages Frodo.” He tossed them, hitting Frodo on the head.

“What did you do that for?” he demanded.

“Yeesh, it’s just gauze, not like I threw a rock at you or something.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time.”

Merry chuckled. “He’s got you there, Pip”

Sam watched the three talking and laughing. After a moment he supposed that he’d been forgotten and got up to finish his work.

But Frodo caught him by the unhurt shoulder. “And just where do you think you are going?”

“I was just going to finish up the hedges Mr. Frodo.”

“There is absolutely no way that I am going to let you do any more gardening today at all, let alone with your arm still like that. Trying to trim hedges with a broken arm, honestly.” He shook his head. Merry laughed.

Frodo picked up the bandages. “Now give me your arm Sam, this may hurt a bit, I think I may have to set the bone.”

Sam yelped with pain as Frodo twisted his arm back into place. Then the young Baggins made something between a cast and a sling for the injured arm.

Look at him, Sam thought. He hardly even knows me and look what he’s doing. And look at his eyes, warm and determined. As though he actually cares that I’m in pain.

“There, that’s it. No. Maybe I’d best see to those ribs as well.” He wound the gauze tightly around Sam’s waist. It tickled more than a little and he bit his lip to keep from giggling.

“There we go. I hope that didn’t hurt too much.”

“Oh no Mr. Frodo, not at all. Thank you very much.” Sam delicately put back on his shirt. “Now I’d best be seeing about those hedges.”

“Oh BOTHER the hedges!” Frodo said rather forcefully and Sam shrunk back just a little. “Sorry… Now look, I was serious when I said that I wouldn’t let you do any more work today. Merry, Pippin and I are going into town for a little while and I would like you to come with us. Would you like to?”

“I’d like that ver much, sir, but I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

Frodo turned to the others, “Any objections?”

Pippin looked like he was about to say something, but Frodo glared him into submission.

“Well then, let’s be off.”

“Oh thank you Mr. Frodo,” Sam was grinning.

“It’s just Frodo, Sam.”

“Anything you say Mr. Fro-” he cut himself off, flushing with embarrassment.

Pippin smirked, “Guess you can’t teach a dumb dog new tricks, eh Frodo?”

Merry elbowed him, “I suppose not, we certainly haven’t had any luck teaching you manners, have we Pip?”

That finally shut him up and the four Hobbits headed down the lane.

End

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