#samwise the brave

Hello friends, new and old! Welcome to my new blog!

It’s hard to sell oneself in merely a header, title or description, so I figured - for the sake of anyone who wanders into this place - that I would organize a bunch of fundamental information right here!

Who am I?

Who are you?You needn’t think of that now, unless of course, you’d like to.

My name is Jules, I use he/they pronouns, and I am a lifelong fan of Tolkien’s work and world. As a small child, my mother read The Lord of the Rings to me, and by the age of six I had seen the films. I read the books for myself between the ages of eight and ten, and have done so some times since. 

Tolkien’s work shaped me fundamentally from that starry-eyed chapter in my youth, everything from my fantastical adventures and ambitious in my backyard to my perception of masculinity, femininity, love, power and comradery. The young man I am and grow to be each day is very much indebted to the characters and stories of all The Professor’s work.

What is this blog?

Obviously, this blog is themed around an appreciation for anything and everything Middle Earth. 

In particular, though, I intend to post a combination of quotes from the novels and/or films, and brief observations or notations I find in the margins of my copies of the novels as I re-read them, perhaps with some fresh notes to join them. In addition, I am taking a class this semester in University entitled “J. R. R. Tolkien and Counterculture,” (with our dear @wilderlandranger) and will likely post some notes, food for thought, or even scribbles for assignments. 

There will also likely be memes. Maybe some of my own writing. 

I am very much going to treat this blog like a more organized version of a very disorganized Word doc currently festering on my Desktop called “Tolkien Diary,” if that adds any briefer explanation or flavor to what you expect. 

Additives and Addendums

If I find anything more noteworthy to add to this post of great importance, then it will be listed under this section! But, for now, good day!

school fried my brain today so heres a sam i drew

You’ve been into farmer maggots crop!

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The fellowship of the ring, a summary

Aragon: I need all of you to be straight with me

Gimli: That’s going to be extremely hard for everyone here

Any writing requests while I’m up?

I’m trying realistic anime style. WIP

Scroll down to see Glorfindel at Rivendell showing the Fellowship why he was the lord of the House lf the Sunflower in his previous life.

Happy New Year!

Artwork by lorna-ka

The Lord of the Rings : Multishot

Samwise Gamgee x Reader

Word count: 7565

Warnings: some good old gossiping and bullying

Request: “Could I request a multishot with samwise gamgee x reader one where she’s Merry’s cousin (she’s with merry and pippin stealing the veggies when they all meet together) and joins them on their mission? She’s friends with all of them and sam has always had a crush on her, but on their journey he realizes she’s even better than he imagined her to be (like when you stop crushing but actually fall in love)” @ocean-calls-me​

A/N: Welcome to the spotlight that Samwise absolutely deserves! There’s not n e a r l y enough content on this sweet gardener. Therefore, with the beautiful and extremely helpful collaboration with the requester, I bring to you this multi part series.

Essentially it’s a rewrite of the trilogy, but with a little ✨somethin extra✨ and a lot of time skips.

Part 1: The Forester {You Are Here}

Part 2: *being written*

Part 3: *being written*

Part 4: *being written*

S.R. 1393

Their bare feet padded along the polished wood floor, sounding as a herd of stampeding sheep. It echoed through the many halls, sprouting into the great tunnels of Brandy Hall. A positive mansion in comparison to common hobbit holes.

A hobbit woman clad in an apron and bonnet yelped as she moved a heavily laden tray out of the way. The stampede barely missed the array of meats and cheeses fresh from the kitchens.

“Watch where you’re going, you lot!”

The half dozen feet plowed their way through the twisting halls, squealing with laughter. Each bounded with competitive force.

“The dastardly troll has discovered us,” narrated the girl, “We must lead it away to find its treasure hoard!”

The older boy agreed, pushing past a few leisure hobbits making their way to the dining hall. “Let us lead it outside. It doesn’t know the sun has risen outside the cave.”

They heard the panting of the youngest behind them, struggling to keep up. “Wait! What if I were to lose you in these tunnels? I don’t know Brandy Hall as well as…” he began.

The girl replied quickly with a harsh voice, “This is not Brandy Hall, Pippin. This is the dwelling of the cave troll, and you are the troll chasing us thieves!”

“Could the chase slow a bit,” Pippin groaned, “It’s nearly teatime.”

“Tea is for adults,” the girl continued, running past the older boy and cutting the path towards one of the front doors.

The elder, Merry, laughed at her reply, “You can enjoy teacakes and sandwiches when you’re crumbled under the sun, you stinking troll.”

“I outta turn your bones into my bread flour, you conniving little hobbit,” Pippin stated, his small voice grumbling into his best troll impression.

Seeing as none of the young hobbits had ever seen a troll in their life, none criticized his efforts. They merely stamped about towards the entrances, dodging flustered residents along the way.

Thankfully the green circular door was wide open, the girl leaping across the threshold and standing triumphant in the sunlight. “Follow, you old troll, and see what you find!”

Merry matched her heroic stance, watching little Pippin reach where the sun basked them in its warm glow.

He pretended to choke, “Ah! You clever hobbits,” he moaned. “You’ve tricked me into the sunlight – my one and only weakness!” Pippin strained as he feigned turning to stone, freezing into a twisted position.

Merry laughed, jovially shaking hands with his cousin, “Well done, (Y/N). I believe that’s another adventure will fought.”

She smiled, her tongue between her teeth, “Not quite, dear Merry.” And she jumped to Pippin and began tickling him, “I’d see this troll statue fallen to dust.”

Pippin fell to the ground, pealing with laughter at (Y/N)’s hands. “I give up, I give up! I am defeated!”

“Rightly so,” (Y/N) said, “Or so says Bilbo’s stories.”

The existence of trolls was only known to them through the tales of old Bilbo’s adventures. It was quite the thrilling story of three trolls deciding how best to cook Bilbo and his companions before being tricked into stone.

“We should check on Frodo,” Merry said pleasantly, idea springing up from mention of Bilbo. “He’ll want to hear all about our troll mongering.”

“No doubt we’ll get a tale or two out of Bilbo, as well,” (Y/N) said excitedly. The mere idea of adventure was enticing. “Come along, Pip.”

Merry found the path away from Brandy Hall, picking at the reeds that grew alongside fences and tree lines. The Brandywine River wasn’t far from them, matching their bouncing, winding stride.

Ponds lay stagnant nearby, home to cattails and singing frogs. (Y/N) made sure to collect a few. The trio used the reeds to swordfight and charge oncoming wagons. They gathered rocks and called them jewels, treasures to protect from invading forces.

Though invisible to the average hobbit, the cousins could spot the invaders amongst the wet grasses of the ponds. They protected their treasure, fighting them back to the mossy waters.

It was quite the adventure for the shirelings, defeating many a monster. Eventually they came to Bag End, and to the home of Bilbo and Frodo Baggins – another cousin to add to their party.

Frodo lay in the garden, staring lazily at the clouds. He perked up when he heard the laughter of more hobbit children.

“Hi ho there!” came (Y/N)’s commanding voice, “What would you say to a shared quest, young traveler?” she bowed and snorted when Frodo split into a wonderous grin.

He jumped to his feet, “What did you have in mind?” He spotted the other hobbits behind her.

“I’ve heard tale of a dragon governing these skies. Seeing your pondering at the heavens, I thought to ask if you’ve spotted anything amongst the clouds.”

Frodo frowned, assuming his character instantly, “I’m afraid no dragons, but a breeze must’ve blown a trail of smoke this way. Do you see it just there? It must lead us to a dragon, you know their fires burn hot and smoke can travel a long way.”

(Y/N) twirled along the garden patch, gazing above, “Precisely! Let us chase it!” She stumbled and found herself face to face with a gruff elder hobbit. He was covered in dirt and laden with tools of the soil. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she squeaked.

He grumbled, “Stand aside before you trample my freshly planted bulbs.”

(Y/N) knew Hamfast Gamgee anywhere. On the street over, Bagshot Row, he was their next door neighbor. Now he stood over her, a colossal gut making his gardening apron strain around his waist.

The other cousins gathered at the fence, awed that (Y/N) was talking to the grumpy hobbit. Being the gardener of Bag End, Hamfast was frequently found under the windowsill. However, he was not overly fond of the goings-on within the hobbit hole.

He was not so outlandish as to enjoy the stories of adventure and questing that Bilbo often told. The tales of elves and dwarves and big folk made him squeamish and anxious. It was best to leave those ideas outside the Shire.

This was the average viewing of the hobbits of the Shire. Bilbo was something of an oddity to the rest of the town, and they frowned upon his recruiting of young hobbits by his stories.

Adventures were nasty, uncomfortable things that made you late for dinner.

But (Y/N) kept this from her mind now as she pondered Hamfast being there. If he was there gardening, that meant his boy must be nearby.

Samwise Gamgee.

Sam was an apprentice gardener and a shy friend to the cousins. He was more timid than any of the hobbit friends, taking most to Frodo. That pair normally left Merry, Pippin, and (Y/N) to their own scheming devices.

“Where might I find Sam?” she asked.

Hamfast grunted a reply, “Doing his work. He doesn’t spend his time wreaking havoc as others do.” He nodded towards the bundle of reeds and cattails she had grasped in her hand.

“I see,” she muttered, “I will leave you to your planting.” And she bounded away as fast as she could, leaving Hamfast to shake his head disapprovingly behind her.

She ran along the fence and to the gate where the other hobbits were. They were all behaving most peculiarly with sneaky grins on their faces.

“I believe a recruitment is in order,” Merry said, “We’ll need all the help we can get with a dragon involved.”

“If you’re talking of Sam, I can tell you his father is most adamantly withholding his location,” (Y/N) sighed.

Frodo shrugged, “All the more fun for us when we find him.” And he raised his eyebrows and nodded to behind them.

There behind the fence gate stood Samwise. He seemed tentative and freckled with soil, baked from the sun.

“Brilliant,” she muttered, pushing aside her cousins, “We have one position left in our company, Samwise. How would you feel about an adventure to the skies?”

He seemed frozen under her stare, “I’ve – I’ve got to return to my father.”

“Without the dragon defeated, there will be no gardens for you to till,” she reasoned with a sly smile, “Join us and let us be rid of this dragons wicked flame.”

Merry and Pippin snickered behind their hands, eager to start their game. Frodo was smiling in an understanding manner, seeing his shy friend being pestered by his persistent cousin.

“(Y/N)…” Sam reasoned, “Perhaps another time.”

“Your father doesn’t know you have returned,” she whispered, “Let us go before he comes looking for you.” She went for his arm, taking hold, “My mother has a cake waiting for teatime. We’ll make it our victory feast.”

Sam stared down at her petite hand and couldn’t help but choke on his next words, “Could we be back before dinner?”

She grinned, “If we hurry.”

And the party of hobbits sprinted back down the path and towards her home. There awaited a magnificent, tiered cake for snacking, and a red kite painted to appear as a dragon, scaled ribbons and all.

~~~

S.R. 1416; 23 years later.

It was peaceful in her forest. The Old Forest. Though peaceful didn’t mean it was still and quiet.

As she walked through the trees and shrubbery, it teemed with life. Birds sang to each other between nests while bullfrogs croaked territorial warnings below. Busy bumblebees worked amongst the humming forest insects. A rustle to her left signaled the emergence of a rabbit and the swing of a branch told her of the acrobatics of a rambunctious squirrel.

With her skilled and gifted hobbit feet, (Y/N) could walk through the forest undetected. Her steps need not disturb the goings-on of the local wildlife. But after fifteen years of living among them, the forest didn’t seem to mind if she made a noise or not.

The forest became a part of her. And it welcomed her.

Wielding a staff she had crafted years ago, (Y/N) traveled along one of the many paths she’d memorized. The staff had become a trusty weapon in times of peril, as well as a helping hand in times of great fatigue.

It once was a fallen branch, struck down by a passing storm. Now it was something (Y/N) relied heavily upon for her day to day survival in the wilderness.

Not that she needed it now. Where she was going she wouldn’t need a weapon to protect her from predators.

As she neared the edge of the Old Forest, she gazed upon the rolling hills and smoking chimneys of the Shire. Her first home.

There was always a moment of reluctance when she exited her wood. Something about the lack of coverage bothered her. There were no trees she could scale to safety. But the uncomfortable feeling left nearly as fast as it came. She wasn’t leaving the sanctuary of her forest to enter the Wild; she was strolling leisurely into the Shire.

A place whose foundation symbolized comfort by every means of the word.

A place where she’d find her family waiting. Her beloved cousins and friends. Though few and far in between, (Y/N) would always come back to the Shire to see them.

Such a time was now as she continued towards Hobbiton.

Today was her uncle Bilbo’s 111^th birthday, and she’d rather get lost in the Blue Mountains than miss a celebration as grand as that. It was the first stop on her return to the Shire – Bag End – where she was to delight Bilbo in stories of beyond. He always treasured the ones about the elves journeying west.

It was that she concentrated on as she passed neighbors and locals of Hobbiton. Hobbits were not shy about town gossip and their eyes were plastered on her form as she paced herself. No doubt the pub would be ablaze with whispered talk of her arrival.

For you see, (Y/N) was a sort of peculiarity. She was considered odd by the rulings of the average hobbit. And therefore, any contact with said peculiarity warranted poor regard by others. No one wished to be acquainted with the most un-hobbit hobbit they’d ever seen.

But that didn’t stop them from staring and wondering.

“Good morning, Ted,” she nodded towards the local miller of the Shire.

He had the decency to be embarrassed at his staring and promptly returned to his stroll. She had to laugh to herself.

She used her walking stick as she climbed the hills towards Bag End. They were no where near the vastness of the mountains she’d climbed before, but their quaintness made her nostalgic for days running in the sun and chasing dragon kites with her cousins.

Coming around the fence, she spotted someone busying himself in the front garden. She grinned playfully and crouched low.

He was humming to himself a pleasant tune, just as merry as ever. But (Y/N) snaked her staff on the ground and under the fence, winding through the short grasses to Sam’s feet. Just as she started tickling his ankle, he leapt a foot into the air.

“AH!” he yelled, “These blasted garden snakes will never leave me be!” He grabbed his trowel, brandishing it like a weapon, “Where’s the little worm?” That’s when he heard the laughter rippling out of (Y/N).

She was getting back to her feet, arm wrapped around her stomach.

“(Y/N)?” he immediately dropped the trowel. His face was awed and warming, “You’ve come home!”

She wiped at her eyes, “Were you going to beat me with a garden tool, Sam?”

He spluttered, “Well, no – I was going to catch the snake and take it to the Eastfarthing.”

“Then why did you threaten it so?” she asked, using the garden gate.

“Because it gave me a fright!” he gave a chuckle, “I mean – you gave me a fright. I could’ve ruined Mister Bilbo’s tulips.”

“Oh, heaven forbid you toss a tulip.” She eyed the flourishing garden and smiled at the pride Sam took in his work. “How are things at Bag End?”

She could tell he was thinking of something to say or do. Sam was never really very good at conversing with her.

He looked at her shyly now, his initial excitement at her arrival dwindling, “It’s always the same with Bag End. Unless you take stock in the pointless gossip. What have you been doing?” He sat in the dark soil and gestured to Bilbo’s garden bench beside him. “It’s been almost three months since last I saw you.”

(Y/N) took residence on the bench, pulling back the hood of her traveling cloak. In classic hobbit fashion, her hair burst forth in an explosion of curls. Sam stared at her in continued awe.

It almost made her giggle, “I’ve been exploring The Great West Road.”

Sam returned to his planting of new tulips, settled to hear her stories, “And what road is that?”

“It goes through the Old Forest and down into the Southfarthing. It’s the road the elves take on their way to the Grey Havens.”

Sam nearly uprooted a plant he was so excited, “The elves?” He loved hearing stories of the elves – he was quite like Uncle Bilbo in that regard.

She grinned, “Yes, I accompanied a party from Rivendell this time. I traveled with them for a while. They thought my guidance through the Shire impressive and helpful.” She got a faraway look in her eyes, “They were very kind and very tranquil. They had made the decision to reach the Grey Havens a long time ago. It was their final march away from Middle Earth. There’s something sacred about that journey. It’s always a privilege to be a part of it.”

Sam soaked up every word, “Did you learn any more Elvish?”

“Iston i nîf gîn; gi nathlam hí. Mae g'ovannen!”

“What does that mean?” his smile was wondering.

(Y/N) returned the smile, “I said that I know you and you are welcome here. You are very welcome here.”

Sam shook his head, “You’re simply incredible, (Y/N). You and your adventures. I don’t dare go past the farmlands of the Eastfarthing.”

“You wouldn’t have to travel far to meet a company of elves.”

“Still, I wouldn’t know what to say to them.”

“I could teach you to say hello,” she said pleasantly, watching him busy himself with work as something to do rather than ogle at her.

“I’d butcher it.” He blushed, “You say it all so beautifully.”

She let a tense silence appear for no more than a few seconds before saying, “That’s because I’ve had years of practice! Come along, Sam – I’ll show you the path towards The Great West Road.”

His blush grew, “Oh, I don’t know, (Y/N). I’ve still got to get all this planting done before the party tonight. Bilbo will be furious if…”

“Oh, nonsense,” she waved a hand, standing to stretch, “Bilbo will be furious if the Sackville-Baggins’ show up to steal his inheritance, not if he’s missing a few tulips. The path isn’t that far – we’ll call it your extended lunch break.”

Sam sighed heavily, staring at her exuberant face. “I’m not sure I’ll ever figure out how to say no to you.”

“Let’s hope you never do,” she laughed, extending a hand to help him to his feet.

He made apologies for his dirtied hands and removed his gardening apron. (Y/N) continued to laugh, “I’ve lived in the forest for years, Sam. It would be astonishing if I spent all that time afraid of getting my hands dirty.”

And they shared a walk together towards the Southfarthing. (Y/N) continued her tale of elven adventures, bouncing and waving her hands animatedly as she spoke. Sam walked shyly beside her, smiling warmly and asking questions at all the right parts.

He simply loved to hear her talk.

~~~

“I don’t know about this, mum,” (Y/N) said, eyeing herself in the mirror. She was adorning a dress of a blue-green material. She had to admit it was rather beautiful – the colors reminded her of sunlight atop lake water. But the chemise and bundled skirts were very restricting.

“How am I supposed to climb trees in this?”

“You will notbe climbing any godforsaken trees in this dress,” her mum said, “You are going to a party.”

Asphodel Burrows was a fine hobbit, spending most of her time sewing and mending wonderous dresses. She was the talk of the Shire in her day, the most beautiful and eligible at the parties.

(Y/N) could imagine her mother aspired for her daughter to be the same.

“Yes, but I don’t plan on joining a courting dance,” (Y/N) said, exasperated, “I just want to celebrate Bilbo with my cousins.”

“And if a young hobbit catches your eye, you’ll celebrate with him too,” Asphodel smiled, “I can imagine heads will be turning tonight for more than your nonsense adventuring.”

Coming from a family of Tooks, Asphodel wasn’t so adverse to adventuring – she enjoyed hearing a wryly tale or two – but she found the hobbit life sufficient to fill her days. She was proud her (Y/N) found enjoyment outside the Shire, but she also wished (Y/N) found more reasons to stay longer in her visits.

Perhaps if she were to find a hobbit to settle down with…

“Since when have I ever cared for a young hobbits attention?” (Y/N) laughed, watching her mother decide what ribbons to put in her hair. “I’ll put trousers on beneath this anyway.”

“You will not.”

“Oh, yes I will.”

Asphodel laughed with her daughter, gathering curls in her hands to tie elaborate ribbons there. “I’m sure you’ll have fun with your cousins, regardless.”

“Frodo seems put out with all the preparations,” (Y/N) remarked, trying to find pockets in her skirts. “But Merry and Pippin seem keen to stir up trouble.”

“As always,” Asphodel sighed, “And I’m sure you’ll partake in said troublemaking?”

(Y/N) shrugged, smirking, “Perhaps.”

“Hence the need for trousers, am I correct?”

They shared a look before her shaggy haired father came through the entryway, “Why is it I know (Y/N)’s home when there’s absolute cackling heard in the house?”

(Y/N) tore from her mother’s hands to give a hug to her father, “Ada! I was wondering if you’d be home before the party.”

Rufus Burrows returned the hug, smelling of pipe weed and rich soil. “There was talk in the town and I made for home immediately.”

“Talk?” she scoffed, “Of course there is.”

Her mother and father shared one of their classic parenting looks. “Hobbits are ignorant,” Rufus stated matter-of-factly, “You shouldn’t let their assumptions bother you.”

“I don’t,” (Y/N) said defiantly, “It’s just talk. I know who my true family is here.” She looked towards her parents and grinned, “And besides, if my friends don’t pick fights with the gossip, Milo sure does.”

Her elder brother Milo was a force to be reckoned with should any of the neighboring hobbits breath one ill word about his little sister.

Though if she continued to talk of Milo, Asphodel would ramble on about how successful he is with his wife and four children and magnificent hobbit hole on a more prestigious road… it was exhausting to hear.

“Speaking of my friends,” (Y/N) hurried on, “I promised to join Merry and Pippin on my way to the Party Tree.”

Rufus chuckled heartily as Asphodel scrambled to finish placing ribbons in (Y/N)’s hair, “Now have fun, dear, but you must promise me you’ll join in the dancing. And don’t only stick to those cousins of yours. And spare me the heart attack and do not climb any trees in those skirts, all right?”

(Y/N) gave her a hug, “Oh, I can promise there will be dancing.” She ran over to press a kiss to her father’s cheek, “But don’t expect it to be with any eligible hobbit.”

~~~

The air was positively twinkling with starlight – an invention of Master Gandalf’s fireworks. It reflected in the pools of (Y/N)’s eyes, her imagination envisioning the sparks into dragon fire or warrior torches or rain from the heavens.

She clapped along with the rest of the party, being pushed about by Merry.

“We should find Gandalf’s secret hoard,” he peeked around the tents, “And give the Shire a real good show.”

Pippin grabbed (Y/N)’s shoulders and peered around her, “I’ve spotted Gandalf magicking butterflies to the children. We’ve got a clear shot to his wagon!”

“Don’t listen to him, Pippin,” (Y/N) laughed, “You shouldn’t be going about stealing fireworks when you have no notion in how they work. You’ll set fire to the Party Tree!”

“Don’t tell me your time with the elves has made you soft,” Merry said, “We’ll need a lookout.”

She crossed her arms, “If anyone is to be the lookout, it would be Pippin.”

“Hey,” he replied, matching her stance, “I’ve been promoted from lookout since you’ve been gone.”

(Y/N) nudged his curly head, pushing Merry away by the shoulder simultaneously, “Go on – I want to enjoy a dance or two before I find myself in some mischief.”

Pippin whipped his head about, a smile growing, “You want to go dancing?”

“It’ll be the dress,” Merry concluded, eyeing her up and down, “She’s finally fallen prey to her mother’s fancies.”

“No, no,” (Y/N) scoffed, “I – uh, I promised Frodo a turn.”

Pippin tugged on his green vest, “Well, if you’re out promising dances – would you mind if I were to…”

Merry yanked on his arm, shutting him up, “We’re not here to dance, Pip. There are perfectly good fireworks waiting to be lit.”

“I suppose,” (Y/N) said tiredly, “I could rope Gandalf into a waltz.”

“A distraction,” Merry grinned, “Brilliant. Good to have you back on the team, cousin.” They shook hands as they often did during their schemes and adventures.

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, seeing Pippin about to make another offer to dance with her before being pulled away by Merry.

She turned to the merriment of the other hobbits. A grand number of them were dancing jovially in the middle field. It was suddenly as though a handful of Gandalf’s fireworks fizzed in her stomach. It wasn’t the dancing that made her anxious – it was the vast crowd of hobbits spying on her.

The ones that called her peculiar for seeking adventure.

But in her usual fashion, (Y/N) bounced into the fray to dance to her hearts content. She skipped and swayed to the bright tune of the fiddlers, smiling into the colored starlight of fireworks.

She was soon joined by a dark haired somebody, “Didn’t recognize you at first,” said he.

“Very charming, Frodo,” she laughed. “Merry and Pippin said something similar.”

“I imagine your mother had something to do with it?” They joined hands and he put his other about her waist.

She fell into the dance instantly, “Ever trying to find me a suitor.” She twirled, “But I thought to enjoy it nonetheless.”

“Rightly so,” he smiled, “You look absolutely radiant.”

She blushed, keeping her eyes away from him as if that would deter the compliment. She spotted more hobbits staring at her with confusion or haughtiness. It made her head spin with more than just the dancing.

“Where are you off to after the party?” Frodo asked, sensing her noticing of spies.

“Oh, I’ll probably stay for a few days. I’ve missed you all terribly.” She hugged him close as they twirled about.

“Splendid,” Frodo said, “I’m afraid old Bilbo has been acting strange. It’d be nice to have some company.”

(Y/N) shared in the conversation, continuously looking about and spotting onlookers. Until one turnabout, she noticed a familiar face looking her way.

“I do believe that is Mr. Samwise Gamgee,” she whispered to her cousin. She could almost feel Frodo sigh.

“He adamantly refuses to dance.”

“What a pity – I should like a turn with him,” she mused, smiling all the while.

“Really?” There was that twinkle in Frodo’s eye that only ever truly came when he was around (Y/N). “I might just have a word with him about that.”

And with a bound of laughter, he twirled (Y/N) and left her to dance in the middle. She swayed and skipped like before, waiting to see if Frodo’s persuasion could coax Sam from his lonesome spot at the table.

She danced under the rain of fizzing fireworks, attempting to tune out all other noise. She found the large crowds suffocating, but if she could focus on one thing… fireworks. That was enough. She could dance and focus on the fireworks, and nothing would be amiss.

Until another pair of arms clumsily reached her waist.

She snapped out of her reverie, clutching the shoulders of whoever just grabbed her, and found an incredibly flustered Samwise.

“Sam!” she exclaimed.

“I – oh, I’m terribly sorry, Ms. (Y/N),” though he couldn’t seem to unstick his hands from her waist, “I was sort of thrown into… I mean, Mr. Frodo said that you… well, I’m sorry if I trod on your toes.”

And they were pushed into the dance by the next oncoming couple. The way he gripped her waist almost tickled.

“That’s all right, Sam,” she laughed, reaching to put one of her hands in his. That way he could actually lead them in a dance, “There are worse hobbits here that could stomp on my toes.”

His face was sunburnt and freckled, though his cheeks reddened beneath her smile, “Oh! I didn’t even ask if it was all right that I dance with you!”

“We’re already dancing, Sam,” she giggled again, “Clearly I’m not upset that you didn’t formally ask me.”

He seemed unable to speak as they joined the fray, only a dumbstruck look adorning his face as (Y/N) laughed and teased him. More fireworks imploded and a massive birthday cake appeared, burning with over one hundred and eleven candles! It was quite impressive and took the attention of (Y/N) instantly as the fiddlers struck a final tune.

They all clapped, (Y/N) watching the cake that was on fire being toppled above many a hobbit head.

“You look lovely tonight.”

“What?” she turned, still clapping, “Sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

Sam clammed up, pulling on the collar of his vest, “I said you – you look lovely.”

Her hands stopped clapping, “Really?” She tugged on her lake water dress.

“Without a doubt,” he muttered, a shy smile on his red face. “Outshining those fireworks, I’d say.”

“Why, Sam,” she smiled, “What a nice thing to say.” And she bounced to him to place a kiss on his cheek, relishing in his flabbergasted response.

Though nearby came the distinct crash of splintered wood and crumbled paper. There was a very impolite round of cursing that followed.

(Y/N) turned as Sam was about to say something more and cried, “That’d be Merry and Pippin.” She grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze, “Thank you for the dance, Sam. I won’t forget it.”

And she bounded towards the noise, finding a peculiar sight. Gandalf’s wagon seemed to have been raided, festive fireworks crumpled and fallen to the ground. And the smoke coming from the nearby tent wasn’t especially comforting.

She screwed her lips in an amused smirk, marching for the tent entrance and choking on the smoke.

“You’re supposed to stick it in the ground.”

“It is in the ground!”

“Outside!”

(Y/N) coughed, waving a hand in front of her face, “What are you two doing?”

“Ah, (Y/N),” Pippin squeaked, “We’re uh…”

“What does it look like?” Merry was trying to let the firework go without it toppling over.

(Y/N) spotted the lit fuse getting dangerously close to the end, “You’re supposed to stick it in the ground outside!”

“What do you think I’ve been saying in the last ten seconds?” Merry groaned.

Pippin had fingers in his hair, almost setting it ablaze with the match still in his hand.

(Y/N) ran over in two bounds, “Let me have it you clot poles!” And she snatched the firework, meaning to dash it outside before it went off.

But just as she turned to run, it screamed and hissed, quite like she was holding a baby dragon. “Oh, no,” she muttered. And the firework shot out of her hands and took the entire tent with it as it soared into the night sky.

Merry and Pippin were thrown off their feet, doused in soot and smoking by the ends of their hair. (Y/N) fell to the ground in a similar fashion, smudged with black ash and smelling the singeing of her hair. She almost missed the explosion entirely because the fabric of her dress started to smoke as if it were very near to flame.

She hit and patted her skirts until every singe mark dulled to ash, covering her hands in soot. She finally stood, blowing loosened curls from her face to see a magnificent dragon soaring across the crowd and exploding colossally into a shower of stars.

Regardless of the near disaster, (Y/N) couldn’t help but smile. Especially when she heard the cries of Merry and Pippin behind her.

“Meriadoc Brandybuck, and Peregrin Took. I might’ve known.” She saw Gandalf plucking them by the ears, “And Miss. (Y/N) Burrows. A likely trio. Had your fun, did you?”

“I am entirely innocent Master Gandalf,” (Y/N) said in a confident tone, “I merely got caught in the act as I was trying to stop it.”

Merry huffed, “Thanks a lot, (Y/N).”

“Some lookout you are,” Pippin added, wincing at the grip Gandalf had on his ear.

Gandalf twinkled as he regarded the third hobbit, “Very well, you may return to the festivities.” At the protesting of the other two, he added, “She’ll have to deal with her mother and that is a wrath I would not want to add to.”

(Y/N) looked down at her dress to see it torn, dirty, and burned in many places. Gandalf was right – her mother was going to throw an absolute fit.

She smiled apologetically at her partners in crime and found her way back to the main party. There she was met with a wall of stunned hobbits. The lot of them peered at her destroyed dress and burnt hair and sniggered.

They whispered behind their hands and nodded towards her soot covered face.

She felt incredibly small.

“Is she wearing trousers under that dress?”

“Why can’t she be normal for one night?”

“It’s a miracle she got any hobbits to dance with her at all.”

“Is she still going to hang around looking like that?”

(Y/N) walked resolutely to the side of the crowd, spotting Sam and Frodo conversing there. They both turned to greet her, but Sam got awkwardly to his feet.

“(Y/N)!” Frodo exclaimed, “Goodness, look at your…”

“I’ve found myself rather put out, Frodo. I think I’m going to walk home, goodnight.” She then turned on her heel and began the descent away from the party. She wasn’t about to reveal that the sanctuary of the trees was all she wanted – to escape the suffocating air of the Shire and be alone in her peculiarities.

But a voice rose above those intrusive thoughts.

“I’ll walk you home, Ms. (Y/N)!”

She barely turned her head, “That’s all right, Sam.” She rather didn’t want company following her into the forest to find her on the verge of tears.

He jogged to her side, “I, well… it’s dark out and I’d feel better about seeing you home.”

A spark of warmth lit her sullen heart. And she welcomed it with a partial smile. “Thank you, Sam,” she whispered.

He appeared less anxious at her acceptance, falling into her slower stride. It was apparent that she wasn’t in the same high spirits as when she first arrived. He spent the next few minutes deducing how to be of assistance.

“Got caught in the fireworks, did you?” there was an apprehensive laugh in his tone, but he swallowed hard at her lack of returning one.

“Pity about the dress,” she said with difficulty, “It was so lovely.” She sniffed.

He decided with a sudden epiphany to extract a fresh handkerchief from his pocket. “Here,” he said quietly, “Uh, for the soot.”

She took it, “Thank you.” And they both didn’t mention how she dabbed at the corners of her eyes first, “I’ll wash and return it tomorrow.”

“No need,” he said awkwardly. “You… you shouldn’t pay any mind to what the others say.”

“You heard?”

Sam didn’t want to say he heard the talk more often than he liked, especially in The Green Dragon. “Just enough to know that anybody who believes such gossip is a fool.”

“I’m a great fool then,” she whispered.

“No, (Y/N),” Sam grabbed her shoulder, wishing her to face him, “They are fools for ignoring the world. You… you are something they fear. You are spontaneous and open-minded and living your dream.” He started walking again, “The lot of them just wish they were half as brave as you are.”

(Y/N) matched his pace, “I’d say escaping the party with the town gossip is pretty brave.” She nudged his arm and smiled, “They’re going to be saying things about you next, just you wait.”

He waved a hand, “They’ve teased me for years – say I take too much interest in elves. It’s not like a respectable hobbit to have wonderings outside of the Shire.”

“Don’t I know it,” she finally laughed. They made their way not towards the Old Forest, but to Bagshot Row. “You’ve always been very kind to me, Sam.”

He looked at her as if that wasn’t surprising news, “There was never a question of not to be.”

“I’m saying there aren’t very many in the Shire that I can rely on,” she grinned as they made it to her gate, “I’m glad that you are one of the few I can rely on.”

He stared at her grateful expression, feeling his chest tighten. The moonlight was doing wonders to her complexion. She positively glowed. “I will always be at your service. Whenever you need me.”

She nodded slowly, biting her lip, “Very generous.” And she kissed his freckled cheek, giving him a tight hug, “Thank you for seeing me home. I’ll find you tomorrow with the handkerchief.”

“Oh, I – uh… keep it!” he managed to get out of his reddening face, “But I’ll still see you tomorrow.”

She waved him off, giggling at the way he stumbled up the path, humming one of his pleasant tunes. She held tightly to his handkerchief, seeking that spark of warmth alit in her heart – the one he planted there.

Samwise Gamgee, she pondered. He seemed to have grown anew in her eyes. Was he always that cute?

The warming thoughts were put to a stop immediately as her mother nearly suffocated on the gasp she took.

“What happened to your dress!”

~~~

A few days later, (Y/N) found herself bounding towards Brandy Hall, staff in hand. She was having the strangest ideas about Sam and Frodo.

Firstly, she awoke the day after Bilbo’s party to find that he had completely disappeared. Frodo told her so when she greeted him for some breakfast.

Secondly, Frodo was acting peculiarly about the sudden departure of Gandalf the Grey. The young hobbit was most definitely hiding something about the fact.

Thirdly, it had been nearly three days since she’d spoken to either Sam or Frodo. Bag End was found empty that morning, and the garden was beginning to sprout weeds which a diligent Samwise would never allow.

The conclusion was clear: the pair were missing, and (Y/N) was going to find out why.

Luckily she ran into just the pair she was looking for on her way to Buckland. “Oi! Do you have any idea what’s been going on?”

“No,” Merry said jovially, slinging an arm around her shoulders, “But I have a feeling you’re about to tell us.”

“That’s just it – I don’t know.”

“About what?” Pippin questioned, eating an apple rather enthusiastically, like the apple was the greatest thing he’s ever eaten. Which was normally how Pippin looked at anything he ate.

(Y/N) shoved Merry away, “About the fact that Sam and Frodo are missing.”

“They’re not missing,” Merry joked, “Can’t be.”

“Care to tell me when the last time you saw them was?”

“Not the point,” Merry stated seriously, “We’re on our way for our weekly shopping of Farmer Maggot’s crop – care to join?”

She sighed heavily, “You aren’t remotely curious where they’ve been the past few days?”

“Why the sudden interest in Sam’s whereabouts?” Pippin asked suspiciously.

“Sam’s our friend,” she said a bit too forcefully, “He played with us as children just as much as Frodo.”

Merry frowned, humming his disapproval, “Here’s the deal: if you help us with the shopping, we’ll help you find them.”

“You should do it as repayment for my dress you ruined.”

“My offer still stands,” Merry said, head held high.

Pippin tossed his apple core in the wheat fields, “I’m rather in the mood for carrots.”

(Y/N) found herself matching their stride quite against her wishes. It was two against one again, “Fine – I’ll help you with your shopping.”

“Just like the good old days,” Merry laughed, rubbing his hands together, “And you can use your staff to beat back the dogs.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled. It was nice to fall back into the usual antics the three of them normally did together. And it didn’t surprise her when she fell right into place stealing handfuls of Farmer Maggot’s crop. It was like second nature to her, just another afternoon sneaking a few snacks from under the neighbors nose.

Only this time the dogs were sent after them.

“Got your staff ready, (Y/N)?” Pippin squeaked, struggling to hold all the cabbage in his arms.

(Y/N) groaned, only taking a few carrots to keep one hand free, “I knew we should’ve gone through the east side.”

“Yes, yes – you’ll be ringleader in the next heist – now run!” Merry yelled, nearly tripping over a fallen cabbage head.

The booming barks of dogs followed them through an enormous corn field. Whipping past the tall stalks put a giggle in (Y/N)’s voice as she panted. The feeling of adventure was coursing through her again – another successful story to tell.

That is until they collided with something hard halfway through the field. (Y/N) tripped beautifully over Merry’s body.

“Frodo! Merry, it’s Frodo Baggins,” Pippin stated, out of breath.

Merry was already on his feet, “Hello, Frodo!”

Sam was scrambling to help Frodo, swiftly tossing Pippin aside in the process, “Get off him!”

Spitting a leafy corn from her face, (Y/N) made to stand, “Blah! I’ve got dirt up my nose.” She started brushing off her shirt and coat.

“(Y/N)!” Pippin said, pointing exuberantly, “We found Sam and Frodo for you.”

She gave a sarcastic round of applause, “Oh, brilliant, really put in the work for that one, didn’t you?”

Frodo snorted, but Sam walked over to her, muttering, “What are you doing with this lot?”

“Me? What about you? I’ve been looking for you all day.”

“You have?” his eyebrows rose in surprise, “What do you need to find me for?”

“Look, this is lovely and all,” Merry grimaced, “But we’ve got some pressing matters…”

The barks were getting closer, and the infuriated voice of Farmer Maggot was catching up with them. The band of hobbits promptly shoved themselves through the rest of the cornfield. The stalks smacked and whipped them as they ran, but none complained as the dogs became distant.

“I don’t know why he’s so upset,” Merry yelled, “It’s only a couple of carrots.”

“And some cabbages, and those three bags of potatoes that we lifted last week, and then the mushrooms the week before!”

“Yes, Pippin! My point is, he’s clearly overreacting.”

(Y/N) laughed, bounding along and beaming with the chase, “Being upset over thievery is not overreaching.”

“It is when you… Oh!”

They had reached the end of the field… and the end of the hill as well. Slamming into each other, the hobbits toppled over the edge and barreled down a grassy hillside. The fell one over the other, grappling for some semblance of support.

(Y/N) was successful as she managed to grab a large sturdy tree root. Although her shoulder might’ve been popped out of socket with the momentum. She breathed hard, smelling the dewy grass and fresh dirt, and hearing the rest of the hobbits fall in a pile beneath her.

She could barely hear what they were saying as she tried to get her footing back. She followed the roots and saw a tree. Gaining the vantage point, she stood to lean against the trunk, peering down at the grumbling hobbits.

Still panting, she noticed them scrambling for a growth of wild mushrooms. She grinned – of course they could still think of food at a time like this. She also noticed her staff had landed on the path with them, and she was about to tell them cleverly from above when Frodo yelled.

“Get off the road! Quick!”

Suddenly they were leaping for the underbrush beneath deep roots. (Y/N) watched them confusedly, though felt a sudden chill in the silence. Her nerves shot up her arms and she had the distinct wish to be as far off the ground as possible.

Promptly climbing her tree, she hugged the trunk near the top, seeing the thing that made her spine tingle with cold. It got unbearably quiet. Quiet even for the grove of trees they were in. The birds stopped fluttering, the bugs stopped buzzing, and the squirrels stopped jumping.

It was utterly, unnaturally quiet. And the beast on horseback came.

From her viewpoint, (Y/N) could see it all. Her breath refused to come as she watched a cloaked figure guide its horse forward. If she didn’t know any better, she would say that horse was not of this world. Rider included.

Everything about them screamed danger. Professed evil intentions. And (Y/N) did not like it in the simplicity of the forest.

She prayed the hobbits would remain still. And she was sure they would if they felt the same paralyzing chill in its presence. She watched the rider search in vain before leaving to investigate a new noise.

And even though it had left, there was still something unnatural about the feeling that remained. She was just climbing back down to retrieve her staff when the others called for her.

“(Y/N)?”

“(Y/N)!” Merry ran for her, grabbing her shoulder, “Are you all right?”

“We didn’t know where you were,” Pippin said softly, “And that thingwas out here.”

Sam approached her as well, serious about the way he asked her, “It didn’t see you, did it?” She shook her head and Sam watched her with concern for a few more seconds.

“What is going on?” Pippin sighed.

Merry turned away from his cousin, “That Black Rider was looking for something, or someone. Frodo…?”

“I have to leave the Shire,” Frodo said quietly, “Sam and I must get to Bree.”

(Y/N) snapped her head to look at Sam, questions written plain on her face, “To Bree?”

Merry nodded, “You could take Bucklebury Ferry.” He turned to (Y/N), raising his eyebrows.

She seemed brimmed full of unanswered thoughts, but she responded, “I can take you through the Old Forest – it’s faster that way – I know it well.”

~~~

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