Posted: May 2004
Title: Strawberries
Author: Khylea
Type: FCGen
Characters: Frodo, Sam, Aragorn
Rating: G....um...maybe should be rated "SS" for "Sickeningly Sweet". First "Icicle Cream" and now this...gah....I'm turning into a mush. ;)
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters....but if I did, Frodo would get all the strawberries he wanted. I just can't resist those big blue eyes.
Timeline: Two weeks after events in Return of the King
Dedication: For Anais, who keeps me writing. :)
Author's Notes: Uh huh....this is the way my mind works at 6am when I got way too little sleep and lay awake in bed waiting for the alarm to go off. I think of silly, fluffy stories involving Frodo, Sam, and a bowl of strawberries and cream. Oh, and just in case the italics mess up, which they probably will, everything between the two asterisks is supposed to be in italics because it's not a part of my writing, just a recap of what happened on the side of Mt. Doom between Frodo and Sam.

Summary: Remembering what kept Mr. Frodo from letting go on the side of Orodruin, Sam brings him some strawberries and cream. Um yeah....that's about it....

*****

*Do you remember the Shire, Mr Frodo? It'll be spring soon. The orchards will be in blossom and the birds will be nesting in the hazel thicket, and they'll be sowing the summer barley in the lower fields and eating the first of the strawberries with cream. Do you remember the taste of strawberries?

No Sam, I can't recall the taste of food, nor the sound of water, or the touch of grass. I'm naked in the dark with nothing, no veil between me and the ring of fire. I can see him with my waking eyes.

Then let us be rid of it once and for all! Come on Mr. Frodo. I can't carry it for you, but I can carry you. Come on!*

Aragorn started awake at the soft knocking on the door to the king's study. Glowering at the pile of paperwork left unfinished on his desk, he stretched, working the kinks from his neck. He had fallen asleep at his desk.

Again.

He glared at the door, seriously considering bolting it and escaping out the window. If that was another one of his advisors, come to pile more work on him, he was going to seriously think about cracking some skulls. Already the requests for aid from the outlying villages, from Rohan and beyond, were far more than he could hope to fill. Not this soon after the war when Minas Tirith was still struggling herself to feed and clothe her own people.

Legolas had told him, more than once, that he should consider taking on an assistant, or at the very least a scribe, to reduce his workload. Rubbing his hand, still aching from the long letter he had transcribed shortly before falling asleep, he had to reluctantly admit the elf was probably right. But of course he could never let Legolas know that. He smiled wryly. He would never let me live it down, he chuckled to himself. Rubbing his hand again, his grin dropped. "The hands of the king are the hands of a healer indeed," he muttered to himself. "More like the hands of a secretary."

He quickly glanced once more at the large stack of requests for aid he had filed in the "no" pile, the smaller stack in the "maybe" pile, and, what seemed woefully tiny, the pile of "yes". How could he tell all those people that he would not be able to help them? Not this year, possibly not even next? Was he failing at his duty? What if his people began to hate him? To think him uncaring, unresponsive to their needs?

The knocking again, slightly louder this time. "Enter!" he snapped, slightly more brusquely than he had intended, but he was still tired and fighting back a headache.

The door opened slowly, and he glanced up, seeing a head of reddish blonde hair poke in the barely opened door. "Mr. Aragorn, sir? May I speak with you a moment?"

Aragorn's smile was genuine as he motioned the hobbit to a chair opposite his desk that he affectionately called "The Hobbit Chair". It had been raised to a level so that any of the Halflings sitting in it would be at the same head height as him when he sat at his desk, but with footrests so their feet would not dangle like they often did in chairs made for "the big people".

With the part of his mind that still considered itself a healer, he quickly glanced up and down Sam's body, seeing with pleasure that in the two weeks since he had been rescued with Frodo from the side of Orodruin, he had nearly recovered from his ordeal. His skin was no longer tightly pinched across his cheeks, his hands no longer looked like the hands of a skeleton. He had gained back most of the weight he had lost from his trek across Mordor, and his skin once again had a healthy glow. Aragorn almost had to laugh at the amount of food and drink such a small creature could consume, and Sam, being the chunkiest of the Hobbits, was the worst. But it pleased Aragorn to see him eat. The creature brought back to Minas Tirith was only vaguely recognizable as the brave little hobbit who had threatened him in Bree.

"What can I do for you, Sam?" Aragorn leaned back in his chair, enjoying the brief respite from his duties, and in truth, enjoyed talking with Sam. He had a quick wit, an intelligent manner, and a genuine liking of people.

Sam fidgeted in the chair, not meeting Aragorn's eyes, still not entirely comfortable with this new person, King Elessar. He was not sure exactly what was proper protocol with Aragorn, and hesitated to ask something inappropriate and possibly be made to look foolish. "Um...Mr. Gandalf said that Mr. Frodo was doing well on his liquid food?"

"Yes, Sam. He has gained back much of the weight he lost. He is responding well to treatment." His smile widened. "He will be fine. No need to worry."

"I am not worried, Mr. Strider. I know you are a very good healer." He quickly blurted out, then blushed. "I just....Mr. Gandalf said that you were planning on trying to give him some solid food today, to see if he can keep it down."

"Yes. He has been keeping the liquids down well. It is time to get him back to eating solids."

Sam nodded, fidgeting with the hem on his jacket. "What were you going to give him?"

Aragorn sighed, contemplating. "Some bread, or possibly fruit. Why?"

For the first time, Sam looked up. "Would strawberries be alright?"

Aragorn nodded, looking more than a little puzzled. "Yes, I suppose."

"Strawberries with cream?"

"Yes." He hesitated for a moment. "Sam? Why do you ask?"

Sam shrugged, his cheeks flushing pink. "They are Mr. Frodo's favorite food. And....I...." When he made no move to continue, Aragorn moved around the end of his desk. Kneeling in front of Sam's chair, he took the hobbit's hands into his own, gently squeezing.

"What is it, Sam?" He said softly, looking up into Sam's eyes.

"Mr. Frodo almost died out there on that awful mountain." He said softly. "That blasted Gollum took all our food, we couldn't find no water that wasn't poisoned, we hadn't eaten nor drank for days. Mr. Frodo fell on the side of the mountain and couldn't get back up. I think he wanted to die." He glanced out the window, his eyes distant. "I reminded him about the Shire, about the orchards being in blossom, and sowing the summer barley." He met Aragorn's eyes again, his eyes bright with tears. "But I was losin' him, Mr. Aragorn. It wasn't til I told him about the strawberries. The first strawberries are always the sweetest, or maybe it just seems that way cause it's been so long since you had any. I saw him comin' back to me, tryin' to remember what strawberries tasted like. He couldn't remember, but that trying, that trying to remember the strawberries with cream, that kept him from dying on me. Kept him from lettin' go."

Aragorn nodded, suddenly understanding. He knew of the great love Sam had for his quiet friend. It was so clear in the adoring gazes he bestowed on Frodo, in the fierce protectiveness he showed when he felt Frodo was in danger, on the constant working to lighten his load in any way he could. Frodo had told him how Sam had often lied to him; telling him that he had eaten or drank when he had not, so that there would be more for the Ringbearer. Aragorn saw much of himself and Legolas in Frodo and Sam, the powerful bond of friendship shared only by those who have faced death together. The love the two hobbits felt for each other, the friendship they shared, had seen them safely through Mordor.

"You want the first food he tastes to be the strawberries. The food that kept him from leaving you," he said softly, causing Sam's cheeks to flush even brighter. But he did manage to nod, smiling shyly at the king. "Well then!" he said loudly, standing and motioning Sam toward the door. "I believe the royal pantry can spare a few strawberries and a little cream for the saviors of the world as we know it."

"Mr. Strider, sir..."

"No Sam." Aragorn stopped and once again knelt down in front of Sam. "You did save the world. There was no one else who could have accomplished the task you did. The world owes you. I owe you. If you and Frodo had not destroyed the ring, there would be no Gondor left to rule." He grinned. "I think saving the world is at least worth a few strawberries." Before Sam could say anything further, Aragorn had strode for the door. Holding it open for Sam, he motioned the hobbit through.

They threaded their way down to the lower levels, into the underground store rooms where the perishable food was kept. Finding what they sought, they filled a bowl with strawberries, then covered them in rich cream. Once they had returned to the main levels, Aragorn handed the bowl to Sam. "Here. You take them to him. I will be in later to check on him."

Sam nodded, and with a quick bow, hurried down the corridor toward Frodo's room. Aragorn started back toward his study, but then with a smile, changed his course, following behind Sam, far enough back that he would not be seen. He waited outside the slightly open door to Frodo's room, quietly watching and listening to the pair.

Sam quietly slipped into Frodo's room, not wanting to wake him if he had fallen asleep, but the dark-haired Hobbit was sitting up in bed, writing in a journal. His face split in a huge smile as he saw who his visitor was, and quickly set aside his writing, holding out a hand to Sam. Sam took the hand, smiling slightly, careful to keep the bowl out of Frodo's line of sight.

"Sam, my dear Sam...." Frodo said softly, looking with interest at the bowl. "What surprise do you have for me there?"

"A fancy treat for you, Mr. Frodo, but you have to close your eyes. You don't get none if you're lookin'. So close your eyes and open your mouth."

With a grin, Frodo did as he was asked, turning his head to follow Sam's movements as he moved to the side of the bed. Dipping the spoon in the bowl, he stirred the strawberries around until he found the reddest, the sweetest looking one. Carefully lifting it, he filled the spoon with as much cream as it could hold. Ever so slowly, being careful not to spill, he deposited the treat into Frodo's mouth.

For several seconds the only motion Frodo made was several slow chews, to split the berry and send the sweet contents through his mouth. Finally he swallowed and opened his eyes, a lone tear making its way down his cheek. "Strawberries with cream." He whispered, his blue eyes huge. "You remembered."

"How could I forget, Mr. Frodo? Tellin' you about those berries was the only thing that kept you from dyin' on me up on that awful mountain."

"Sam....." Frodo reached out a hand, grasping Sam's much larger hand in his slim one. "My dear Sam." He smiled through his tears as Sam set down the bowl and moved closer, taking Frodo's other hand in his. "Frodo wouldn't have got far without Sam." With a nod, blinking back tears of his own, Sam suddenly pulled him into an embrace.

"Sam wouldn't have got far without Frodo either." He whispered, gently stroking the soft dark hair. Frodo nodded through his tears, pulling Sam even closer against him.

From his place carefully hidden just outside the door, Aragorn blinked back tears of his own, quietly closing the door to give the two friends some privacy. Heading back to his pile of paperwork, he found he suddenly felt better. Moments like that were the reasons wars were fought, the reasons friends died in battle, he told himself. So that two little hobbits could enjoy a bowl of strawberries and cream together without worrying about the outside world.

With a grin, he found himself heading toward the pantry. A bowl of strawberries and cream sounds good to me as well, he thought.

*****

THE END

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