Chapter Text
Sam walked through the back barley field, pushing his way through the tall golden stalks around him, humming as he did. The weather was beautiful and he glanced up at the brilliant blue sky, feeling a faint cool breeze against his cheek.
He was in high spirits. All the Gamgees, save himself, were staying with Hamson in the South Farthing to help him with his new baby. Sam alone had stayed behind to keep up his work in the garden. With no one asking nosy questions, Sam thought there was a very good chance he might end up at Bag End this evening with leave to stay as long as he liked. He just needed to position himself near Frodo and put in a few words and he was sure Frodo would invite him to supper. Sam beamed.
He let his thoughts drift toward the lunch he had packed and left at Bag End. His stomach growled and he sped up a bit. He was dreamily pondering the contents of his lunch basket when his left foot went down unexpectedly and Sam cried out as he pitched forward.
He felt a cold jarring snap and his leg went out from under him as he fell. He yelped in pain and slammed into the earth. He lay for a moment in stunned shock, taking a moment, as fear and pain throbbing through him. He gingerly tried to roll himself so that he could see what had happened. As soon as he did, he groaned in pain and clenched his teeth. His left foot was still stuck in the hole and it was twisted at a bad angle.
Broken.
He’d broken a bone he was nearly sure of it.
This wasn’t good. He was a fair ways out on Baggins property and no one knew where he was. He wouldn’t be missed at lunch either. Frodo was out at some meeting with Hobbiton’s local leaders and he wasn’t due back until after tea at the earliest. Worse, his family wouldn’t notice his absence when he failed to return. His heart began to pound.
“I’ve just twisted my ankle,” Sam told himself stubbornly and pulled his leg up out of the hole. Moving the leg at all was agony. “Well even if it is only twisted,” he muttered to himself through clenched teeth, “I can’t put weight on it.” He was going to have to crawl and there wasn’t any place closer than Bag End. The only saving grace was that the barley fields were in the upper fields so it would not be an uphill climb.
*
Sam drug himself out of the barley at long last and collapsed on the hillside, panting. He couldn’t do anymore, at least not for a while. His body shook with muscle strain and the pain in his leg was overwhelming. He turned, peering down and saw that his calf was swollen and that his pants leg was stretched tight, biting into his skin. He hissed in dismay. His pocket knife was sitting on the brick wall by the pump behind Bag End. He turned back and collapsed down into the dirt, closing his eyes and panting.
Besides the pain he was incredibly hungry and thirsty. He was afraid if he kept pushing himself he would pass out, either from the pain or faintness from hunger. He was just going to have to lie here, at least for a while. He was on the hillside, visible now from the path. He would hope that someone saw him and didn’t think he was only napping. He needed to stay awake so that he could call out if anyone came by. But even as he thought it, Sam fell into a swoon.
*
When he next woke, Sam was astonished to see that the sky had darkened and stars were beginning to peek out into the evening sky. He gasped and struggled up onto his elbows. Everything hurt- his leg, his head, and he was so thirsty.
“Help!” he cried out. He caught his breath, tears in his eyes. He didn’t want to spend the night out here. He shouted out more, trying to project his voice. His voice sounded weak in his own ears, but he forced volume into it. Panic was beginning to set in.
“Sam!”
Sam gasped in relief and turned to look south. Frodo was bounding up the hillside, clutching his pipe as he ran.
“Mr. Frodo,” Sam called.
“What’s happened?” Frodo cried as he drew near and knelt at his side, “You’re hurt?”
“Yes, my leg,” Sam said, through tears. Frodo moved down and Sam heard him draw in air through clenched teeth.
“Your leg is very swollen. Oh dear, your pants are cutting into your skin,” Frodo said. Sam felt him take hold of his pants leg and try to gingerly move it up. Sam hissed in pain. “Oh, sorry,” Frodo paused, “No good. I’ll have to cut the bottom of your britches.”
“Please,” Sam murmured. His strength was gone again. He felt Frodo tugging at the fabric and then blessed relief as the tight band released around his calf.
“Did you take an evening walk?” Frodo asked him. Sam blinked, and realized he was slipping back into a swoon.
“No,” he quivered, “I fell around noon. Out in the barley field.”
“Noon!” Frodo gasped.
“Please, can you get me some water?” Sam begged.
“Yes! Of course!” Frodo staggered up, “I’ll bring some food as well and then we’ll see if we can’t get you off this hillside.”
“Thank you,” Sam breathed. His mind went fuzzy, and though he didn’t think that he lost consciousness completely this time, when Frodo appeared at his side again, it seemed as if no time had passed.
“Can you sit up?” Frodo asked, taking a seat at his side. He held a large clay mug and Sam’s lunch basket.
“I think so, but I’ll need to lean against you. I’m not very steady,” Sam said, “I keep dropping off.”
“Come,” Frodo helped him turn and pulled him up to lean against his shoulder.
“Thank you,” Sam said, exhausted. He made himself take the mug and gulped the water.
“I found your lunch in the mud room,” Frodo said softly. “Oh, Sam, if only I had noticed it earlier! I would have known something was wrong.”
“S’ alright,” Sam panted as he finished the water.
“I came back late from my meeting and I thought you’d left for the day,” Frodo said, and there was deep regret in his voice, “I almost turned in early. But I thought I would take a little walk up to the oak tree and smoke. Oh. I am so glad that I did.”
“I got this far and I think I fainted,” Sam said, taking the sausage from his basket and biting into it. “I only woke just now.”
“How did you hurt your leg?”
“Stepped in a hole,” Sam murmured, “felt it twist under me and I fell.”
“And you were out in the barley?”
“Yes.”
“Oh how horrible. I’m so sorry that happened. You were very clever to get yourself out of that field and into a place where you could be seen.”
“Mm.”
They sank into silence as Sam ate. When he was finished Frodo took the basket and mug.
“I must get you off this hill. I think perhaps we could try a wheelbarrow?”
“Yes, I think that will work,” Sam said.
When Frodo returned they struggled for sometime, trying to get Sam up into the wheelbarrow. Frodo pushed it forward until it was vertical and set against Sam’s back. Sam scooted into it, and tried to lean back. When it moved, he nearly fell out, and it jolted his leg. Sam groaned but Frodo was there then.
“Here, I think if I…” he said and put an arm under Sam’s knees and another around his back. Sam would have protested normally, but he was beyond all protest now. Frodo lifted him and set him into the wheelbarrow, mindful to not touch his leg or jolt it. Frodo kept a hand on him, bracing him as the wheelbarrow angled up and Sam was on his back, curled into the curve of the tray.
“Alright?” Frodo asked.
“Alright,” Sam answered.
“We’ll go to Bag End?” Frodo asked.
“Not Number Three?” Sam asked. Frodo paused.
“There’s no one there,” he said.
“I know.”
“Would you like to stay with me?” Frodo asked.
“I don’t want to be a bother.”
“You are not a bother and I would be very glad to have you stay at Bag End,” Frodo told him as they made their way down the slope, “I can’t bear the thought of taking you to Number Three when there is no one there to look after you.”
“Thank you,” Sam sighed.
*
Frodo had brought extra pillows from the other rooms and had built a slope to elevate Sam’s leg. Gingerly, they’d both worked to get his leg up onto it without jostling it. Then Frodo had gone off for a bit. Sam lay back and stared at the ceiling. His fear had all drained away but he still felt very foolish.
When Frodo returned he had a tray, piled high, which he set on the table at Sam’s side.
“I wasn’t sure if you wanted more to eat, but I heated the pot of soup I made earlier,” Frodo said. Besides the soup there was bread and cheese as well as a cluster of elderberries and a steaming cup of tea.There were also several chunks of ice, wrapped in thick cloth. “The tea is chamomile and willow bark,” Frodo added. Sam gazed at the tray and then up at Frodo. Frodo’s cheeks went a little red.
“It’s lovely, Mr. Frodo,” Sam said, “thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Frodo took the ice chunks and their wrappings and began placing them around Sam’s swollen leg, adjusting the pillows, to keep the packs in place.
“I feel very silly,” Sam said as he took up the soup bowl.
“No reason you should.”
“Ah, I fell cause I was walking and not paying attention. Thinking about lunch.”
“Happens to the best of us I’m afraid,” Frodo teased.
“Eh. I’ve done a number this time though,” Sam sighed. Frodo's smile faded as he gazed down at Sam’s leg.
“I’m going to see if I can’t get Doctor Beehill out.” He stood. “I will try and be quick. Is there anything you need before I leave?”
“You're going out tonight?”
“Yes, of course,” Frodo blinked. “Though I do hate to leave you when you can’t move about.” He paused, “What about the privy? Do you need to go?”
“Yes,” Sam said, wincing. They looked at each other. “If you can get me to the outhouse, I think I can do the rest.” Frodo nodded. He helped Sam out of the bed and gave him a crutch to use. With the crutch on one side and Frodo on the other, ready to catch him should he fall, they moved out of the guest room and down the hall. Frodo held open doors and got him out into the back garden and into the little outhouse tucked into the hillside. Frodo latched the door behind him.
“If you get into difficulty, call out. I’m not squeamish.”
“Yes, sir.”
Once Sam was seated it all went alright, though peeing while seated was a new experience. When he finished, Sam clambered up on his crutch and opened the door. Frodo came back to the entrance and once again they walked together slowly back to the guest room.
“Perhaps after the doctor sees you,” Frodo said as he helped Sam back onto the bed and settled the pillows and ice packs back into position, “we can brace your leg so you can move a little easier.”
“Thank you.”
Frodo nodded and promised again to be quick, then left. Sam heard the front door close. He finished the soup and moved on to the rest of the meal Frodo had left him. He heard the door open once more and perked up.
“Samwise?”
Sam blinked. That was Mrs. Twofoot, his neighbor.
“I’m back here,” Sam called. A moment later Ginger Twofoot and her husband Jack entered the room. They were both much older than Sam and it gave him some comfort to see them.
“Oh poor lad,” Jack said.
“Mr. Frodo asked us to come and look after you while he goes for the doctor.”
“Oh, thank you,” Sam said, touched. The pair drew up chairs and took a seat.
Sam talked to the couple he’d known most of his life. It eased him greatly. After a time, they decided that Sam ought to be washed up for the doctor, so Mrs. Twofoot set some water heating and Mr. Twofoot helped Sam undress. His clothes were grubby and Sam hadn’t liked laying in Frodo’s nice bed in soiled clothes. While Sam scrubbed up, best he could, Mrs. Twofoot went down to Number Three and brought some of his clothes up. Sam had gratefully changed into a clean nightshirt and small clothes.
They passed the time in light talk that eased Sam considerably and kept his mind away from fear as he waited for Frodo to return with the doctor.