Originally written in 2010 and inspired by Kate Rusby's gorgeous song 'The Lark'.
The lark wasn’t singing. Sam could see it darting and dipping high overhead, but no tuneful melody spilled down from the sky to where he lay on his back in the meadow-grass.
Or maybe he couldn’t hear it when the song in his own heart was silent.
’Frodo’s gone to Buckland, Sam, to visit his cousins. Took off this morning, all of a sudden.’ Bilbo shook his head. ‘Sometimes there’s no understanding that boy, but I expect the Road will carry him home again in a few weeks. But my lad, is everything all right? You do look a bit peaky. Best not work too hard in the gardens today.
Three weeks had gone by now, with still no sign of the Road carrying Frodo home.
Was it wrong, what we did? Sam shut his eyes against the punishment of the sky, too blue, too blinding. Just so had Frodo’s eyes looked as he’d leant over Sam in this very spot, while the lark circled above them, singing.
’Why, Sam.’ Newborn wonder in his voice, his palm burning above Sam’s thundering heart, his lips burning against Sam’s mouth, the sweet scent of bruised grass as they tussled, rolled and moved against each other...
‘Why, Sam.’ Sated wonder in his voice, his palm cherishing above Sam’s slowing heart, his lips moving against Sam’s damp throat, the musk scent of spilled seed and sweat drying on lax limbs.
And still the lark circled and sang, and Sam’s heart sang with it.
Sobs crowded Sam’s chest. Tears burned against his eyelids.
“Why, Sam. I hoped I’d find you here.”
Sam’s eyes flew open to find Frodo framed against the unforgiving sky, the silent lark circling above him. He sat up, words replacing the sobs in his chest, choking him, unutterable. He could only stare like the halfwise fool his father called him.
Frodo dropped to his knees. “Sam, I panicked. It was…too big, too much, too important. You were too important.” He lifted his hands, palms upward, supplicating. “Can we begin again, right here? I shan’t run off this time, I promise, but stick like glue.” A hesitant smile hovered about his lips, waiting to be invited out.
Sam rose to his knees, opened his arms wide. Sing, oh sing, he bade the lark, and as Frodo with a joyful smile embraced him, it burst into glorious song.
Sam’s heart sang with it.