As Cold As Ice (Sam Gamgee X F Hobbit! Reader)

As Cold as Ice (Sam Gamgee x F Hobbit! Reader)

Description: The Fellowship has been stopped at Caradrahas, and you and the hobbits are beginning to feel the cold.

Warnings: gets angsty, reader momentarily contemplates death

a/n: Well, I did it! First one shot! Also, I should mention I like writing in a universe that's closer to the books than the movies, and I thought, where better for an angsty fic than that part where they're stuck in the blizzard and everyone is getting hypothermia? Leave a comment of some feedback if you will, it's like "writer motivation juice":)

~

“Caradhras was called the Cruel, and has an ill name,” said Gimli, “long years ago, when rumor of Sauron had not been heard in these lands.”

      “It matters little who is the enemy, if we cannot beat off his attack,” said Gandalf.

      “But what can we do?” cried Pippin. He was leaning on Merry and Frodo, and he was shivering.

“Either stop where we are, or go back,” said Gandalf. “It is no good going on. Only a little higher, if I remember rightly, this path leaves the cliff and runs into a wide shallow trough at the bottom of a long hard slope. We should have no shelter there from snow, or stones – or anything else.”

      “And it is no good going back while the storm holds,” said Aragorn. “We have passed no place on the way up that offered more shelter than this cliff-wall we are under now.”

      “Shelter!” muttered Sam. “If this is shelter, then one wall and no roof make a house.”

~ J. R. R. Tolkien

      You wrapped your cloak about your shoulders as tightly as it would go, rubbing the coarse, worn threads against your shoulders in a vain attempt to get warmer. The snowstorm hadn’t let up at all since the Fellowship had slowed to wait out the storm, and you were beginning to feel the biting cold – really feel it, in a deep and scary way that was freezing the feeling right out of your body and making you feel all thick and heavy.

      To your right, the other four hobbits were huddled in a cluster behind Bill the pony, trying to stay warm. Sam, angel that he was, was actively trying to warm his companions up, rubbing their shoulders and pulling blankets out of packs to wrap them in. You watched as he wrapped a blanket around Frodo’s shoulders, then practically squawked in alarm and pulled Pippin up from where he’d been trying to lay his head down in the snow – he was the tiniest of the five of you and hadn’t been bearing the frigid temperatures very well.

      Even though there was no heat to be found anywhere, a tiny part of your core warmed watching Sam take such good care of his friends. You knew that, even in a hopeless situation like this one, he’d fight until the very last to protect everyone that he could. Me next, a tiny voice in the back of your mind whispered. Please come take care of me next.

      A gust of wind blew snowflakes into your eyelashes, and you choked on a cough as the bitterly cold air hit the back of your throat. You knew Sam wouldn’t be coming to warm you – you explicitly told him not to. There’d only been room for four to shelter behind Bill, and you knew in your heart of hearts that the other four were far more important to the quest than you were. They hadn’t asked for you to sneak after them on this quest – it wasn’t their fault that you’d been snooping to see why Sam was moving to Crickhollow. They didn’t make you chase after them into the old forest when they suddenly left early one morning, or stalk them until you were all caught by the Barrow-Wight. They weren’t supposed to be saddled with you, and you weren’t going to be the one extra person who caused the downfall of the Fellowship.

      Sam had been angry when he found you’d tagged along. The two of you had fought – he’d said things that made your heart ache, like “you weren’t supposed to be here,” “I never wanted you involved in something like this,” “can’t you just go home, Y/N?” Because you wanted to be there. You wanted to be there, heart, body, and soul, because he was there. You’d die before you let Samwise Gamgee run off on a dangerous quest that he might never return from without saying so much as goodbye to you. In fact, there was quite a bit more you’d like to say to him, but the two of you had barely said two words in passing to each other since that fight. Because then the Nazgul had come, and you’d had no choice but to continue on with Strider and the rest. They were stuck with you.

      But you weren’t as important. You weren’t needed, and you could feel it. Which was why you were letting the other hobbits take the available shelter; “I’ll be fine keeping watch here,” you’d told Sam shortly. “Tend to the others. I’ll sit with Boromir and Legolas.”

      Now, the cold was getting to you, and almost twice as fast as the others. You’d been sitting on Boromir’s right, and his tall figure provided some refuge from the gusts of snow that blew at you, but small piles of white were beginning to collect in the folds of your clothing, and your eyelashes were cold against your face when you blinked, which you were doing much more slowly and frequently as the cold threatened to take you into a never-ending sleep.

      Perhaps this is how they’ll get me off their hands, you thought dejectedly. This cold will freeze me to the bone, but perhaps it’s better off that way.

      Another part of your mind pushed back. You haven’t told him how you feel yet, it argued. You’ve got to live for the day that you can hold Samwise’s hands and tell him that you love him, live for a time when his arms will give you all the warmth you could ever need – a time past this when we can have time for love again.

      You remembered his scathing comments, the ones that proved you weren’t wanted.

      Perhaps life was just full of those sorts of disappointments, sorely and bitterly freezing, as cold as the end you were surely about to meet.

      You closed your eyes, letting the cold numb away the last of the feelings you would ever have.

      “Y/N?”

      A voice.

      “Y/N! Oh, she’s so cold...I never should have let her out of my sight.”

      It couldn’t be. Shouldn’t be.

      “Please, someone, a blanket…anything! Get her warm. Bless you. Boromir. I’ll repay you somehow, swear. Hold on to me, Y/N. I’ve got you.”

      You fastened yourself to the sound of Sam’s voice, and hauled on it as hard as you could to pull yourself back to the conscious world.

      One eye opened, then the other. You gasped and shuddered as the cold came rushing back in an icy surge – the numbness was leaving, but at least you still had feeling in your extremities. As you came to, you noticed just the barest warm presence enveloping you, not unlike a blanket.

      You half-expected to be met with snowflakes falling into your eyes, but none came. You were met with the image of a tall animal with four legs, shuffling its feet to keep warm.

      “Bill?” You rasped, confused. Then you realized where you were – and how you were, more so.

      It was Sam. Of course, it was Sam. He was holding you tightly in his arms, with the two of you seated so you were as close as possible; if you would have had any blood circulation to spare, you might have managed a blush. His warm chest pressed against your back, and a scrap of something soft was tucked around you – a scrap of Boromir’s cloak, you realized, cut rather jaggedly like it had been sliced with a sword.

      “This will be the death of the halflings,” you heard Boromir say, but his voice was distant in your ears. You managed to tilt your head so you could look into Sam’s eyes.

      I’m sorry for being such a burden, you wanted to say. I’m sorry that I’m here.

      Instead, all you could stutter was, “S-s-so c-c-c-cold, hur-r-rts.”

      Sam looked back at you, a startlingly fierce look in his eyes. “I know. I’m so sorry I let you go so far. But you’re going to get warm again, soon if I have any say in it. We’re going to be alright, Y/N.”

      The sudden his change in his demeanor was unexpected, but you weren’t going to complain. You nestled closer, clutching the scrap of Boromir’s cloak in one hand and Sam’s arm in the other.

      A rustle in the snow next to you – Legolas knelt down next to Sam, holding a bottle. “Miruvor,” he said softly. “Elven cordial – one small sip for each of us, but it holds the promise of fresh strength and warmth. There is enough to split between the five of you.” He handed the bottle to Sam with an encouraging look.

      Sam held the bottle straight out to you. “You have mine, Y/N,” he said stoutly. “I haven’t felt the cold much, I’ll do alright without.”

      It was tempting to take the liquor and down as much as you could – it was clear and sparkling in the bottle and smelled of warm spices. But you pressed it back into Sam’s hand, noting how his fingertips had an icy coolness to them. “There’s enough for each of us,” you echoed. “You first, Samwise.” You tightened your grip on his wrist, weak as it was, hoping to communicate that you hadn’t completely lost your strength.

      Sam shook his head and uncorked the flask. “I’d never known anyone more stubborn before you, do you know that?”

      You chuckled, just a little. “I’d s-say yes, but you’ve known your-r-self your whole life.”

      He was convinced quickly – you guessed he was colder than he let on. After a tiny sip, it was your turn. The liquid hit your throat warmer than you’d expected, and you shivered at its sweetness and flavor. The miruvor had a vitality to it that you’d never gotten from any food before – part of the elven magic, you supposed.

      Sam would have gone absolutely mad over this back when we were still naïve little Shirefolk, you thought sadly. Not just having been in the presence of elves, but traveling with them, and tasting their potions…only the circumstances absolutely ruin it.

      You felt your strength returning, and an internal warmth tingled through your bones. Your limbs moved with less stiffness, and your eyelids didn’t feel so heavy – the cold was by no means blocked out, but the worst of it seemed to have come to pass.

      You lifted your head and looked around. Gandalf seemed to have overcome his aversion to fire, for one had been lit and was crackling merrily under the shelter of the cliff. The other hobbits were huddled around it; Merry was practically pouring the last of the elf cordial down Pippin’s throat (the youngest hobbit looked to be in barely a better state than you were). Frodo was curled up next to Boromir, who was constantly prodding the hobbit to ensure he was awake.

      It was at this point you realized you were still seated on Sam’s lap, and an uncomfortable number of conflicting feelings struck you with such ferocity that it seemed more prudent to avoid them altogether, You made to crawl off of Sam’s lap and join everyone at the fire, but a firm grip on your wrist held you back.

      “Wait.” There was a different note in Sam’s voice, one that made you turn quickly. “I want to know why you did that just now. Why would you put yourself at risk like that, refusing shelter and tryin’ to go off on your own? You could have easily died. Matter of fact, you almost did.”

      This was it. Here came the conflict again – why are you here, Y/N, ruining our grand adventure? Maybe if you just laid it all out on him, he’d leave you be.

      You inhaled, then let all the words on your mind out in one breath so nothing could be held back. “I don’t belong here, Samwise Gamgee. You of all people should see that, since you’re the one who tells me so often. I know I’m a burden, and I hate that you hate that I’m here. This whole quest would be better off without me, alright? You, Frodo, Pippin, Merry – you’re the important ones. You need to survive, so I gave you the shelter. It doesn’t matter if I die here. In fact, it would probably help you all along. So there you have it. Happy? Now if you don’t mind, I do prefer being alive at this time, so I’m going to try and get some warmth.” The rant left a nasty taste in your mouth, like you’d spit something toxic.

      “It does matter.”

      You didn’t want to hold your breath, to wait and see what followed, but you did anyway, because no matter what he had said, there was a reason you’d stole away from Crickhollow early that morning. There was a reason you’d chased Sam all the way through Middle Earth, up until now.

                Sam took your hand in his. “It matters to me, Y/N. It matters because… because… well…” He stopped and looked away.

            You were speechless. In all your time, Sam Gamgee was the poet. He always had pretty words to say. You’d never seen him at a loss for them.

            When he turned back, that fiery look of resolution was back on his face. You almost didn’t have time to process it, because before you could blink, he was kissing you – a strong, passionate, romantic sort of kiss, one that would have had you weak at the knees if you weren’t already sitting on them. You once again found yourself frozen and unable to move, but this time it wasn’t cold or altogether unpleasant; in fact, a lovely, tingly sort of warmth was spreading through you. You summoned up all your willpower and threw your arms around Sam, kissing him back with as much intent as you could muster.

            After some undefinable amount of time (you never knew how long that first kiss of yours was – only that there were many future ones), he finally pulled away, as pink in the cheeks as a frozen hobbit could be. “I hope that explains some things,” he said rather shyly. “I only wished you weren’t here because this quest could be the end of us all, and I want you alive and happy and safe. If I were to be the selfish sort, I’d have taken you with me from the beginning, if only so I could have your beauty and kindness to get me through the struggles of each day.”

            You shivered, though the cold likely wasn’t the cause. There was the poet you’d fallen in love with – the strong soul who you knew would probably be the reason this quest succeeded, if the Fellowship could make it off this cursed mountain. “Well, you make the worst sort of liar, Samwise,” you said, but there was a smile on your face. “You had me fooled – though I suppose you’ve somewhat made up for it now.” In fact, you could barely suppress the giddy grin that was trying to stretch your frozen cheeks.

            Sam laced his fingers through your cold ones. “Well, I suppose there’s no turning back now, so we might as well make the best of it. I suppose I can hardly complain now, with you as my companion...or sweetheart now, I suppose.”

            “I’ll tell you a secret,” you whispered, “I’ve always wanted to hear you say those words.” You squeezed his hand. “I came because I couldn’t stand to leave you, and I don’t plan to. Let’s go warm our bones before we freeze into a pair of hobbit-sicles.” You tugged him after you to the fire, which warmed everyone through the night.

            Hope no longer seemed so far away.

Theory: Nobody who writes a physics textbook gives any fucks

Evidence:

Come on, cute little potato...work your magic...

I'm a butt-dialing, rage-quitting Debbie Downer. Ah, 2005.

I'm stealing this from Twitter

Here's the link

I am a high-definition gateway drug body double!

These hcs are k i l l i n g me

Things the Fellowship has argued about

What name to call Aragorn

What name to call Gandalf

What to call their meals. Boromir thinks, if it is eaten at dinnertime, regardless of whether it is the first meal of the day or not, then it is dinner. Sam thinks it isn't proper to call the first meal of the day dinner. Aragorn suggests they combine the two words but now everyone is fighting over whether it should be called breakfast-dinnner or dinner-breakfast. The fight nearly becomes physical

Whether Legolas or Gimli is winning their daily argument with eachother

If hobbits are regular sized and everyone else is really big, or if everyone else is regular sized and hobbits are small

The same as above except with horses and ponies

If Gimli's beard is real or not. This one started as a joke between Merry and Pippin but then Legolas saw how mad it made Gimli and so continues to bring it up

Inter-hobbit fighting about whether it is called pot-ae-toes, pot-ah-toes, or taters

"Can Legolas really talk to trees, or is he just fucking with us?" Aragorn and Gandalf refuse to weigh in on this

Whether the Ent-draught caused Merry and Pippin to grow or if they just did that on their own. This fight is Pippin vs. Everyone Else

Whether the non-hobbits of the Fellowship would be Tooks, Brandybucks, or Bagginses. This argument is unintelligible to most of them, although Gandalf has the knowledge to be offended when Pippin suggests he would be a Took.

"What would happen if someone ate the ring?"

Fights over whether the elves, the dwarves, or the hobbits tell the story of the reclaiming of Erebor most accurately. Even though Gandalf was there, he just shrugs when anyone asks him

Which variety of pipeweed is the best kind. Merry threatened Gimli to a duel over this one

Who gets next watch