Stories of Arda - Lord of the Rings Fan-Fiction Archive

A Gardener's Tale by Elentari Greenwood

Upon entering Bag-End, Sam set the basket of apples down in a corner of the porch and, turning, pushed the round, green door firmly closed. Then , with shuffling steps, he bustled down the hall to the kitchen. Taking a loaf of bread and half of a small round cheese from the larder Sam set them out on the table. Placing her basket on the wide windowsill, Ruby uncovered it and drew out a large bowl of still-steaming mushrooms. She set the bowl on the table, alongside the bread and cheese. Sam brought plates and cutlery from the sideboard, and motioned his daughter to a chair. "So how is young Farmer Maggot today, my dear?" Sam inquired, sniffing the scent of the mushrooms appreciatively. "Toby's just fine, dad" Ruby assured her father. She had married Tobias, the grandson of Old Farmer Maggot, in the spring of last year and, together with the rest of the current Maggot clan, they lived and worked on the old farmstead. The couple was expecting their first child next spring.

"And how are Robin and Tolman getting on? Behavin' themselves proper, I hope?" added Sam questioningly. His two youngest sons had moved in with their sister and her husband, and were working on the farm. "Oh, they're doin' their share, dad, and no mistake", said their sister fondly. Bringing over the heated kettle, she poured the boiling water into a plump, brown teapot which sat on the table, then returned the kettle to it's hook over the hearth. Ruby sat in a chair across the table from Sam. "You weren't working out in the garden all day, were you dad?", Ruby asked suspiciously. "No, no, just doing a bit of this and a bit of that is all" replied Sam rather evasively. "I wanted to pick some of those apples as were ready." Ruby smiled; "If you like, I'll take some down with me, and bring you a pie tomorrow." She was staying the night down the Hill at New Row, where her older brother, Bilbo, lived in what had been the Gaffer's rebuilt hole. While Sam and Rosie's children had scattered, like so many dandelion seeds in the wind, to all corners of the Shire, from Buckland to Undertowers, Bilbo had remained on the Hill. He had also, as had his namesake, remained a bachelor (up to the present, at any rate). Ruby had left her pony and cart there and climbed the Hill to stretch her legs a little. "I wouldn't mind it a bit!" Sam replied enthusiastically. Dishing out the mushrooms onto two plates he said, "Now let's attend to these beauties before they get cold!" They ate for a time with appreciative concentration. When the plates were wiped clean with the last of the bread, Sam retrieved two brown mugs from a small cupboard and placed them on the table. Ruby took up the teapot and filled the mugs with the steaming liquid. In silent agreement father and daughter carried their mugs of tea into the sitting room, and settled into deep cozy chairs, one on either side of the small oval hearthrug before the fire.

"Been feeling all right, dad?" asked Ruby solicitously. "Now, don't you go worritin' about your old dad", said Sam cajolingly in a fair, though unconcious, imitation of his own Gaffer. "If you're meanin' my little nap in the garden, why, I was just enjoyin' the sunshine a bit. After all, I am used to makin' my bed on the ground on occasion", he reminded her, "and in worse places than the lovely soft grass of the garden at Bag-End!" A thoughtful expression came over Sam's features just then, and his eyes seemed all at once focused on something beyond the confines of the cozy sitting room. Ruby felt all at once alone somehow, as if her father had suddenly disappeared from the room. he shivered involuntarily, and wrapped her hands tightly around her mug of tea for warmth. A few moments passed; then Sam's voice broke the silence in a soft voice that Ruby had to strain to hear.

" I was havin' a lovely dream out under that tree", said Sam. " I was walkin' under the golden trees of Lorien, and suddenly, there was the Lady", Sam continued in a voice touched with awe. "Dressed all in silver and white, she was. She smiled down at me, and put her hand on top of my head. And then she spoke to me..." Sam stopped speaking as his thoughts went back to his dream. He suddenly realized what he had not thought strange about the dream before now; the Lady and he had not spoken with words. Her voice had seemed to enter his mind, and Sam found he could answer the same way, and it was much easier so. "Well met again, little lover of trees", Galadriel had said. "Have you grown so quickly tired of your own garden, that you have come to walk in mine?" the Lady questioned gently. "Oh, no your Ladyship!", Sam quickly replied. "It's as lovely a place as you'd ever want to be in." "Then why have you returned here?" Galadriel persisted. " I don't rightly know myself", replied Sam. " I don't even reckon how you and I've come to be here, or how I'm talkin' to you now" Sam puzzled. " I recall you sailed away over the sea with Mr. Frodo a long time ago", he replied sadly. She smiled at him then, and said, "Our thoughts have a way of taking us where we wish to be, though that place be far beyond our reach", she said kindly. "Tell me what troubles you?"

"Well, your Ladyship," Sam ventured, "I've been plain lonely, and that's the truth. My Rosie passed on, you know" Sam told her quietly. She nodded gravely, eyes filled with sympathy. "I reckon I've been feeling sort of left behind, so to speak," he thought, rather insightfully. "And with my Rosie gone, you see, I can't help missin' Mr. Frodo too. Rosie was always a comfort; she just seemed to know when things were botherin' me" Sam told his dream Lady shyly. "And now you are here" said Galadriel thoughtfully. "Perhaps you desire to take another journey?" Sam looked up at Galadriel doubtfully. "I'm not a young hobbit by any means to go traveling as I once did." He hesitated ; " besides, where would I go? The Road's too long to travel to Gondor and visit Strider again" Sam continued sadly. "Only you can find what you seek; I can give only this in counsel," Galadriel told him. "All you need do is make a beginning," she said gently. "The end will be what it will be." And with Galadriel's words still in his mind, he had come up out of the dream to find the sweet face of his youngest daughter gazing down at him with love.

Sam came out of his reverie, and turned his thoughts back to his beloved Ruby where she sat across from him, a searching expression on her lovely face. Sam sighed and said, "Well, my girl, that was quite a dream and no mistake!" Ruby eyed her father anxiously. "Why don't you come down with me to Bilbo's?" she invited. "We can all visit together in the kitchen while I get to work on those apple pies", Ruby cajoled. Sam replied, "it's surely a tempting offer, but I've a mind to take myself off for a ha'pint at the Ivy Bush, and catch up on the latest doings of the Four Farthings." "The latest gossip, you mean!" Ruby said; but she grinned. "That sounds just the ticket, dad. You go on ahead then. I'll tidy up here and then fill my basket with them apples and go on down to New Row. You'll have a fresh apple pie for your breakfast tomorrow", she promised. Ruby shooed Sam out of the house amid protests, saying she'd do the clearing up tonight, and that was that! Then she stood in the open doorway for awhile, and watched Sam's progress as he made his way down the Road.

The trade was brisk inside the Ivy Bush that evening. With the fine weather holding sway, many folk were glad to be out for a pint and companionship, taking advantage of this blessed time, before the winter weather set in.To one side of the main room, near the green door that led to the kitchen, stretched the worn oak counter; behind it on the wall were several shelves; the lower held mugs and glasses, while bottles filled with rich-colored contents were lined up neatly along the top-most shelf. On the other side of the counter were lined up (not so neatly) a half-dozen or so local hobbits holding forth with pints in their hands, most being deep in conversation amongst themselves.

Two fellows at the far end of the counter were holding a quiet conversation with Mr. Hardbottle, the innkeeper, a rather large, round hobbit, with a mass of salt and pepper curls upon his head. The innkeeper nodded towards a group of four older fellows who were gathered close to the blazing hearth on the other side of the common room.

"No, you just can't find a dearer old Gaffer in all of the Shire than our own Master Samwise,"said Mr. Hardbottle fondly, indicating with another slow nod one member of the group by the fire.

"Why, o' course,"said one of the hobbits. "We've known of 'im away down in the Southfarthing for many a year."

"If a body doesn't know that feller, then he doesn't come from the Shire!" the second hobbit emphatically replied.

"Naturally, 'e doesn't get around all over the way he did for many a year," the Innkeeper added. "A couple of his sons have taken up the name 'Gardener', though. They go about makin' sure everything's looked after proper, and that's as it should be. And his family keeps a close eye on 'im too, since Mistress Rose passed on." The hobbit at the end of the bar sipped his pint slowly.

"That's a sad thing, indeed, her passin'," he said sadly.

"Aye, that's the truth!" exclaimed Mr. Hardbottle. "e doesn't say too much about 'imself as a rule, but it's taken 'im hard, it has."

Over near the fire, the group of hobbits, which did, indeed, include Sam Gamgee, were drawn up close together in a little semi-circle in front of the merrily dancing flames. Their conversation ran to common things: which trees had especially lovely fruit this year, who among them had gained a new grandbaby this season, and so on. As the hobbits' voices droned on, like the pleasant humming of bees in an orchard, Sam gradually fell silent,, gazing into the fire with eyes that saw things beyond the cheerful, flickering flames.He saw his own children as they were when small, playing about the garden; he saw himself sitting in a chair at the kitchen table, little Elanor on his lap, and there was Rosie, setting a steaming bowl of stew in front of him, and patting his arm companionably.

A log popped and sparked in the hearth, and with a start Sam saw the vision shift; but this time the flames of the fire became one tiny flame in a lamp, and that lamp was resting on his bedside table. Sam himself was lying in bed, a plump bolster behind his brown, curly-haired head. He turned his face away from the flame, and there was Rosie beside him, tucked up snugly under the covers. Her small, work-worn hands were clasped together atop the coverlet. Sam reached out to cover her hands with one of his own, slightly larger and sun-browned in contrast.

"We have had a busy day, haven't we, Rosie my dear?" Sam said with a sigh. "Goodness knows, the children are more than happy to help with the chores; you must let the girls help you put up those beets and beans tomorrow" he chastised gently. "We must face the fact that we need to take things a little slower, I suppose," he continued whistfully. Sam paused and glanced over at the well-known face on the pillow next to his. Rose's eyes were closed, and the quilt rose and fell almost imperceptively with the regular rhythm of her breathing. "Why, I've talked you right to sleep, my dear," Sam said softly. At that, her eyelashes fluttered, and Rose opened her eyes then, turning to gaze fondly at her husband.

"Dear Sam," she said, a smile playing gently at the corners of her lips. "I'm just that worn out tonight; let's leave talk of beets and beans for the mornin', shan't we?"

"Of course, Rose dear; close your eyes now, and happy dreams my love," Sam replied as he patted the small hands once more. As Rosie's eyes drifted closed, she said softly,

"mind, Sam, that you put out the light."

Sam turned and extinguished the flame in the lamp on the bedside table, and lay back against the pillow in the velvet dark, a slight smile on his lips, and a warm spot in his heart.

Sam was awakened next morning, as he had been nearly every morning in the Shire, with sweet notes of birdsong, and a fresh-scented breeze coming in through the window that was always left open just a crack. He lay still for a few moments looking up at the ceiling, and thinking about the day ahead.

"Well, Sam, once begun's as well as done," he said to himself, and turned the covers back with a sigh. Sitting up, he turned his head to look upon the sleeping form of his wife. "Rosie, my dear, you just have a bit of a lie-in," he whispered. "I'll get the kettle on, and our breakfast ready." Sam climbed out of bed and got into his clothes as quietly as possible, then tip-toed out of the room, leaving the door slightly ajar.

In the kitchen, he got out a rasher of bacon from the pantry, and hummed softly and cheerfully to himself as he took down his favorite frying pan, and placed it on the stove. When he'd got the bacon started, he filled the kettle with water from the pitcher on the table, and hung it on the hook above the fire. Setting out the dishes,, cups and cutlery, he measured the tea into the familiar round, brown teapot. After turning the bacon, Sam got out two eggs and, cracking the shells, poured the contents gently into the pan.

When all was at last ready, Sam walked along the passage, and entered their bedroom. He crossed to Rose's side of the bed and called her gently, brushing back a few stray strands of hair from her face.

When their son, Bilbo, entered Bag End some hours later, he found a cold pot of tea on the kitchen table, and a frying pan full of congealed bacon and eggs. Puzzled, he proceeded down the hallway towards the back of the house.

"Ma?" he called tentatively; "you back here?" At the door to his parents' bedroom he paused; a faint breeze came from the partly-open door. Bilbo pushed it open and peered in.

Sam was still there, seated in an old rocking chair that was pulled up beside the bed. He was holding Rosie's hand, rocking silently.

"What is it, Dad?" Bilbo asked in a frightened voice. Then Sam looked up, and Bilbo caught his father's stricken expression. The son moved across the room to join his father; he rested a shaking hand on Sam's shoulder, and gave a gentle squeeze.

"Oh, dad," said Bilbo in a small voice, at a complete loss for words. Sam heard as from a distance his son's voice calling; "Dad......dad.....," and felt a more persistant hand on his shoulder. Sam came to himself then, and realized with a shock that he was no longer in his bedroom, but in front of the fire at the Ivy Bush. The hand gently nudging his shoulder was, in fact, that of his son, Bilbo, come to join his father in a pint before closing time. As the sounds of the common room came once again to his ears, Sam shook himself with an effort.

"Well son,I was wondering when you'd be along; have you got your pint yet? Pull up a chair, my dear boy. Have you brought your whistle along with you? I'm sure we'd all like a tune, eh?" Sam asked his companions. There were replies of assent and clapped hands. Bilbo reached into his vest pocket and drew out his wooden flute, and began to play a lively tune. Soon there was a much larger group near the hearth. Someone produced a fiddle and joined in the next song. One tune followed another, and it was more than an hour later when Bilbo drained his pint.

"Well, dad, we'd best be off for home, else Ruby'll come lookin' for us," said Bilbo with a mischevious glint in his eyes.

"You're right, my boy, it's late; and that's a fact about your sister!" Sam chuckled. Goodnights were said all around, and the Innkeeper stood looking out of the window and waving, as father and son started out on the road home.

"Yes, that's just the thing I wanted," Sam said with satisfaction.

Next, Sam moved over to where the old kitchen stove stood, warm and homey, and awash with the heady scents of woodsmoke and roasting meat. Sam bent to open the door and check on the progress of supper, then went to the counter to put the finishing touches on a delightful-smelling apple cake. He sprinkled the cake with a generous dusting of freshly-ground cinnamon, then covered it with a clean, white tea-towel, to keep until after supper. Heaving a contented sigh, Sam passed through to the sitting room and sank gratefully into his favorite chair, deep and soft, to rest and wait.

Later, as the sun began to cast long, late afternoon shadows on Hobbiton, Sam emerged from his bedroom, having washed hands and face, and put on a clean tunic. As he moved along the hall, there came a pull on the front door-bell, which Sam had been expecting. Lifting the latch, Sam opened the large, round door with an expectant smile. It was mirrored in the cheeful round faces looking back at him from the doorstep.

"Things are smelling wonderful in here!" announced Pippin enthusiastically, bright eyes sparkling. There he stood, a head above Sam, who had to look up at both Pippin, and Merry who was standing beside him. Merry grinned tolerantly.

"That's getting to the point, Pip," he chuckled. Putting out his hand, Merry clapped a delighted Sam on the shoulder.

"Welcome, welcome!" Sam exclaimed warmly, stepping back from the door and motioning the two friends inside.

They ducked their heads a bit as they entered the doorway, then straightened and looked around them with familiar eyes. Sam pushed the door firmly closed behind them, then bid Merry and Pippin to remove their grey cloaks, which he hung carefully on pegs near the door. Leading the way, Sam preceeded his guests down the hall towards the kitchen.

"Homey as ever," Pippin pronounced with a happy sigh, though Merry privately thought there was an air, however slight, of distance, maybe, about the place, as if everything belonged to another, older time, much like a museum.

Arriving in the kitchen, Sam announced to his guests,

"Sit yourselves down then;everything's ready." Sam bustled about with purpose, setting the meat dish on the table, along with a warm loaf of brown bread, fresh creamy butter in a cold crockery dish, and a huge platter mounded high with succulent, steaming mushrooms. This was accompanied by a plate of freshly grilled tomatoes and a steaming pot of tea, with sugar and cream nearby. Sam sat down across from his guests, and the hobbits set to with relish. For a long while the house was quiet but for the sounds of silverware clicking and scraping on plates. At last, Pippin washed down his last mouthful with the dregs of tea remaining in his mug and gave a satisfied sigh.

"You certainly do set a fine table, Sam," he asserted fondly.

"I, er...imagine there's something sweet to follow?" questioned Merry hopefully.

"Surely! seeing as how this is a celebration" Sam replied, his cheeful voice belying the thoughtful expression on his face. "Why don't you both relax a bit in the sitting room, while I brew us a fresh pot of tea to go with. Besides, I've something to show you I think will be of interest, if you don't mind my saying."

"Certainly, Sam!" Merry replied with an eager smile. Both guests pushed their chairs back from the table and rose to their feet. "We'll just go on through, and you come along when you're ready." Merry turned and moved off after Pippin into the room beyond.

After putting the tea to brew in a potful of fresh hot water, Sam joined his company in the sitting room, where he found them doing just that, in the soft, comfy chairs before the fire, which was blazing cozily in the hearth.

"As I said, I've something to show you; rather fitting, considering the occasion," Sam called over his shoulder. Sinking to his knees in front of an old wooden chest which resided under the window facing the garden, he lifted the lid and reached inside. Rising to his feet and straightening, Sam turned towards the companions, an eager smile lighting his face. They observed in Sam's hands a large book with a red leather cover. Their eyes brightened as they realized Sam held Bilbo's book containing their adventures of so many years ago. "I've kept it safe and sound these many years. Now I think it's time you both took another gander at it."

Merry took into his hands the book which Sam held out to him, and opened the front cover. There were the well-remembered words written out first in Bilbo's spidery hand, followed by Frodo's firm, flowing script. After searching through a few pages, with Pippin looking on over his shoulder, Merry turned to the back of the book. There he found a page bearing the title

"The Grey Havens", and the handwriting changed again, to a small, careful hand Merry knew immediately.

"Why, Sam; You've added to the book!" he exclaimed excitedly.

Scanning the pages as Merry turned them, Pippin added,

"You've put in the departure of Frodo's ship, and all the happenings of the Shire these many years; all our comings and goings to visit Strider and Arwen too!" he cried delightedly. Sam blushed.

"Well, Mr. Frodo said as how the last pages were for me to keep up with everything."

"Just so, Sam," Merry affirmed. "I begin to wonder if stories ever really come to an end."

"Well, Master Merry, you've hit the mark there, I'm thinking." Sam gazed thoughtfully at the two friends pouring over the book. "As a matter of fact, I've been meaning to take another little trip of my own, you might say." Two curly heads popped up as Merry and Pippin looked at Sam expectantly. "Oh, not an adventure! No; not much of a trip, really. It's just that I've not seen my Elanor in a long while, and I've decided to ride down to the Towers for a visit."

"When will you go?" inquired the Thain. Neither of Sam's guests thought his plans in any way unusual, being still quite fond of travelling themselves.

"The fact is, I'm starting on my way tonight; we always were fond of travelling at night, and my boy, Bilbo, has found a pony for me to use. I've got a pack with a bit of this and that to keep me on the Road."

"How long will you be gone?" Merry asked.

"Well now, I can't rightly say," Sam replied with a vague wave of his hand. "Until we've had a nice visit anyway."

"Very well," said Merry, "we're glad you asked us to celebrate the birthdays before you left."

"We couldn't let one go by unmarked, now could we?" Sam asserted, a twinkle in his eyes. "Now you two finish looking at the Book; I'll go on out and cut the cake, and pour us some tea." Off went Sam to the kitchen, as Merry turned pages slowly, with Pippin looking on.

When Sam called, the two guests set the book aside and went through to the kitchen. All three pulled up chairs to the table, and Sam passed around plates with thick slices of cake, and filled mugs with fresh, hot tea. Looking round at each other, they raised their mugs in unison. It was Merry who spoke:

"Dear old Frodo and Bilbo, the happiest of days, in your home across the waves."

"Why, you made it rhyme! How nice," Sam complimented. They all took a sip, then Pippin raised his mug again.

"Safe trip to you, Sam! Enjoy your visit, and tell us all the news when you return." They drank Sam's health, then setting mugs on the table, picked up their forks and began on the cake, eating with relish, and with compliments to the host. It was several helpings later until the friends said their goodnights and Sam saw them to the door. They parted with smiles, and Sam waved as they went off down the Hill into the gathering twilight.

The morning autumn sun shone brightly, but did not yield much warmth, as early next morning found Sam well on his way toward the distant Tower Hills, and a long overdue visit with his firstborn daughter, Elanor and her family. The Fairbairns had a lovely home at Undertowers, with plenty of room for their growing family. Sam found himself thinking about his two newest grandchildren, whom he had never seen. His eyes fairly sparkled with delight at the thought of finally having the chance to bounce them on his knee.

'Though these old knees o' mine ain't as good as they used to be,' mused Sam. 'Still, I reckon they'll hold up well enough,' he chuckled to himself.

Sam released a sigh of great contentment as he rode west along the Road, mounted upon the nutbrown pony that Merry had kindly arranged for him. It was a good-natured creature; although well-behaved, it kept up a lively pace and was not lazy. Sam knew from Merry that the pony was called Acorn, which to Sam's mind was a fine name for a good, sturdy hobbit pony - though not quite as fine a name as Bill. This thought Sam kept to himself, however, and the two got along very well as the miles rolled away beneath them.

Not having traveled to these parts for some time, Sam's gaze roamed everywhere, reveling in the sights and sounds of the Shire. Above all, he delighted in each tree, be they tall and venerable, or saplings but newly sprung. The vibrant hues and earthy scents of autumn worked their special magic upon Sam, and soon he was singing aloud a cheerful song. Acorn flicked his fuzzy brown ears back and forth, seeming to approve of the joyful music.

The sun was riding midway in the clear blue sky, and the day had become fine and warm, when Sam halted his pony in a likely spot.

'Now then, my lad; you've outdid yourself this morning, but we mustn't go any further without a bite and a rest.' Beneath a birch tree Sam laid his pack upon the ground. The pony's reins he looped over a slender branch of the white-barked tree as, above their heads, the delicate yellow-green leaves rustled busily in the breeze. Sam gathered some deadfall branches he found lying nearby, and soon had a small fire going, some distance from the trees. Taking a small pan from his pack, Sam went down to the stream's banks and filled it with water. Using several larger branches, Sam made a tripod on which he hung the pot of water, and left it to boil for tea. Taking up the reins, Sam led the pony to the water's edge, where he sucked greedily at the refreshing water.

'Take it slow there now!' cautioned Sam, leading Acorn back to the trees. 'Too much at once, and you'll have a nasty bellyache! Sam'll let you have more in a bit.' While he waited for the water to boil, Sam sat upon the grass and leaned his back against the tree. He unwrapped a bit of cloth, which held a small loaf of brown bread and a wedge of cheese. Sam tucked into the provender hungrily, chewing with concentration for some time, while the pony snuffled nearby, and cropped the few green shoots of grass he could reach from his tether. All around them, the quiet of the bright afternoon was broken only by the rustle of leaves overhead, the humming of bees in the sweet clover, and the occasional strident call of some brightly colored bird, winging its way swiftly by in the blue sky above them. No other travelers did they encounter. When the water was hot, and the tea had steeped, Sam put out the fire and settled contentedly back under the birch tree, sipping the hot tea gratefully. Afterwards, he, and the pony, dozed.

As the day wound down towards evening, the last rays of the sun slanted across the gardens of a long, low fieldstone cottage nestled below the heights of the Tower Hills. The lady of the house, Elanor Fairbairn, was out in the side yard, taking down the dry washing from the clothesline. It had dried quickly, as the day had been fine and breezy. As she unpinned the clothes, Elanor hummed a lighthearted tune; the youngest members of the Fairbairn clan, Blossom and Meriweather, sat contentedly playing in the lush grass at their mother's feet.

Folding another piece of clothing into her basket, Elanor heard the faint wisp of a voice on the air. Wondering if her husband had called to her, she held aside a hanging sheet, looking towards the house. On the Road, still some hundred yards distant from the lane, she could make out a small figure, the dust rising from the road where it came out from the trees and began to wind its way down a small hill towards the house. Curious, Elanor stepped clear of the sheet to watch as the figure approached. Whoever it was, they were riding not a horse, but a pony, she could see now. The voice she had heard came to her again; it was raised in song. Elanor suddenly became very still: she had recognized that nonsense song, and the voice that was singing it. Letting the forgotten clothing fall from her hands, Elanor took off running up the lane, shouting,

'Papa! Papa!' The rider put his pony into a lively trot. They met at the top of the lane, where Sam brought his pony to a halt. Elanor, her eyes alight with joy, stood with one hand clutching the pony's bridle, and pushing her golden curls back from her flushed face with the other. 'Papa!' she said incredulously, and laid her hand upon his knee, 'have you come all this way by yourself?' Sam climbed stiffly down from his pony, and gathered his daughter into his arms.

'My sweet Elanor!' he spoke into her clouds of bright curls. 'My stars, how wonderful it is to see you again!' And they clung to each other for a long while, as the sun dropped lower in the sky.

At last, they walked side by side down the lane towards the house, Sam leading the pony. In the yard, Elanor gathered up the twins, telling them happily,

'This is your grandad!' They grinned with their usual pink-cheeked good humour. Sam fairly beamed, smiling widely.

'What precious little posies you have here!' Sam exclaimed happily. At last, Elanor showed Sam where to stable the pony, telling him, ' Come straight inside and wash up when you've done, Dad,' she told him. 'You're just in time for supper, and it'll be on the table soon!' With a huge smile for her father, Elanor whisked the children into the house. Sam ambled off to stable his pony, possibly the happiest man in the Shire.

Supper in the Fairbairn house that evening seemed to Sam like a feast; not only due to the delicious food and generous portions, but the merriment that accompanied it. The children were all filled with excitement at seeing their grandpa Gamgee again, and Sam had the pleasure of fulfilling his wish, to get acquainted with his two newest grandchildren, and to bounce them upon his knee. After the children had been bathed (with much laughter and splashing about,) and put to bed, (complete with stories by grandpa, ) the grownups sat in the parlour by a cheery fire while Elanor served tea and cakes. There was much talk of all the doings in the four farthings, and of relations far and near. There were reminicences of the time Elanor had spent in Gondor, as lady's maid to the Queen Evenstar. And although she recalled those days fondly, Elanor did not regret coming home; what she had in her life now was more than she could have imagined in those days, home and family were her greatest joys. Her husband was the best hobbit in the Shire, she often thought - next to her Dad, of course.

Excusing himself, Sam went off to the room where Elanor had settled him, and opened up one of his saddlebags. Drawing out a large, cloth-wrapped parcel, he carried it back to the parlour. Going over to Elanor, he handed the parcel to her with great ceremony. Curious, Elanor stared a moment at the object which lay heavy in her hands. Sam sat down in the chair opposite, motioning with a wave of his hand:

'Go on, my dear, open it up,' he encouraged. His eyes twinkled in the firelight as, with cautious fingers, she untied the twine that held the cloth in place. Turning back the folds of cloth, Elanor smiled broadly; in her lap lay Mr. Bilbo's book, which, Elanor knew, contained the entire story of Bilbo's grand adventure, and also a chronicle of the War of the Ring, which had been written down carefully by Mr. Frodo's own hand. Elanor knew that Mr. Frodo had given the book into her father's keeping before departing from the Grey Havens for parts unknown. Sam had looked after it lovingly for all these long years. Elanor reached out and caressed the cover with gentle fingers. Her husband, who had never seen it, looked on curiously over her shoulder. Elanor opened the cover and turned a few facing pages; there was the title page, and the next two held maps of Middle Earth, beautifully rendered by Mr. Bilbo's own hand.

The three passed the evening hours reading passages of story and song from the book, while the fire in the hearth burned ever lower. When at last they closed the cover, Elanor rose and made as if to hand hand it back to her father, but Sam held up his hands.

'No, my dear girl, I shan't be taking it with me when I go. I want you to keep it here from now on: to keep it safe, and read the stories to the children, as maybe they'll do with their children, someday. Which is as it should be,' Sam finished.

'Oh, but Dad,' said Elanor in awe; Sam stopped her gently.

'No, now hush child; I kow that you'll take good care with it, and I want you to add any adventures that may come along after my time.' With happy tears in her eyes, Elanor hugged the book tightly to her chest. Then, laying the book reverently upon her chair, she turned and hugged Sam even tighter.

'I'm so glad you came, dad,' she whispered against his chest.

'You're a dear girl, bless your heart, and I love you,' said Sam. 'It's done me a world of good to see you again. Sleep well, my beautiful Elanor.'

Sam had no real notion of how far they had come; he rode along as if in a dream while the Road wound away behind them. At last the Elf signaled a halt; gently taking hold of the reins, Rumil guided Sam's pony into a copse of trees. Sam could see several Elves, in form and raiment like unto Rumil. They stood silently in a group beside a tall, white horse; tall also, and imposing, was the Elf Lord who sat astride it: white were his robes, and he wore a circlet of silver upon his brow. Sam sat unmoving, in silent wonder, as the Lord Celeborn spoke to him.

'Greetings, Ringbearer,' said the Lord of Lothlorien, to Sam's utter astonishment. Then the other Elves did as Rumil had, placing hands upon breasts and bowing low in greeting. 'Long are the years that have passed for thee, unto this age of the world,' Celeborn continued. 'Yet, to me, they seem as but the blinking of an eye. Now is the time come, when thy reward for selfless deeds may also be redeemed.' Seeing Sam's look of confusion, Celeborn's stern features softened, and almost it seemed as if he smiled.

'Master Celeborn, your Lordship, I am honored that you've come all this way just to visit me,' stammered Samwise nervously. 'But I don't need no rewards, if you please, sir. All I've ever wanted was to be able to look after my own - my master, and then my family - and I've already been and done all those things, and been as happier than most, I'd dare say,' Sam finishd abruptly, then ducked his head, cheeks flushed, for he felt sure he'd been forward, and said far too much. But Celeborn looked kindly upon him, and asked, 'Will you ride with me? It would please me,' he added. Sam could not refuse, and silently nodded his head. Celeborn turned his horse, and Sam's pony stepped obediently behind, seeming to need no direction. The other Elves walked beside the two riders in silence, as they left the trees and followed the Road once more, as it skirted the lower end of the hills and wound about the other side. Here, the land dipped, and the travelers came down from the hills. There was a flash of silvery light, and Sam glimpsed the moonlight dancing upon the water afar off. At that moment, the Elves accompanying them burst into song, and the beauty of it filled Sam's heart, as full as the unshed tears which brimmed in his eyes.

At last the party reached the place where the Road ran down to its ending, upon the very shores of middle earth. As they approached the quayside, Sam, in awe and wonder, beheld a white ship, fashioned after a great swan, in the manner of the Elves. Beside the ship, upon the dock stood, tall & venerable, the Keeper of the Grey Havens, Cirdan the Shipwright, whom Sam at once recalled from that sad day of parting so long ago. The Elf Lord had not changed; and now he raised his arm and hailed them, the palm of his hand held out in greeting.

The Elves halted beside the dock, and one again took hold of Sam's pony. Sam was bewildered beyond all imagining, and more than a little distraught: why had they thought to bring him here, a place which held such painful memories for him? Sam's weary features began to crumple, but Rumil left Celeborn's side, and stood looking up at him with kindness.

'Do not grieve for past sorrows, master Samwise,' he said gently. 'Look to the future, for therein lies comfort and peace, and your heart's desire.' Sam sniffed disconsolately.

'Then let me go on home to my Elanor's, master Elf, for I surely won't find any peace in this place. Er, begging your pardon, your Lordships,' Sam muttered, unable to meet Celeborn's gaze. Then Cirdan approached, and spoke:

'And if Cirdan has need of your assistance, to fulfill his last commission?' Sam looked at him in surprise, torn between his love for the Elves, and his doubt and unhappiness. At last he sighed;

'I am at your service, sir,' Sam replied, and bowed from astride his pony. 'If it's not too forward of me to ask, what is your job of work, in a manner of speaking, and how could I be of help to the likes of your Lordship?' The Elves looked then to Celeborn, who rode forward to Sam's side.

'Cirdan needs you, Samwise of the Shire, to fulfill his final commission upon these shores, for it has been laid upon him to wait for the last of the Ringbearers, and to bear that one across the Sundering Seas. You are the last, and you are wanted,' Celeborn repeated to Sam; 'will you go?' Half of Sam's mind was panic-stricken at the thought of going out upon the wide ocean, worse by far than any mere river had been; the other half went racing back to all his children, his home, the familiar pathways of the Shire. Sam sat upon his pony, his mind in turmoil. He looked very unhappy. The Elves were silent, eyes downcast; the decision rested with Sam alone, and they afforded him what privacy they could - all except Celeborn, who gazed steadily upon Sam. All at once, a thought came, unbidden, to Sam's mind, and his heart leapt at the possibility. Looking up at Celeborn, then at Cirdan, Sam asked quietly,

' Do you mean to say, this is my time? At last?' Cirdan smiled, and nodded. Celeborn replied,

'If you desire it.' Sam hesitated, then squared his shoulders. He could sense that, once again, he was in the midst of something much bigger than himself. With quiet dignity he said,

'If you say you've been waiting for me, sir, then I will go.'

From the time Sam made his decision, things began to seem surreal to him. Deferentially, the Elves helped him down from his pony; when Sam expressed concern over the pony's well-being, Rumil reassured him;

'I will see him safely home,' he promised. Then Celeborn moved his mount in close to Sam, and, reaching down, laid his hand upon Sam's curls. 'Namarie, Ringbearer; may you live in blessedness all your days.' 'But,' Sam blurted out, looking up, ' I thought you were coming with me! Aren't you going to see your Lady again?' Then Sam blushed furiously, as he beheld the sorrow in Celeborn's eyes, for a moment laid bare and unmasked.

'It is not my fate; I will remain, to govern the last of my people.' Then the Elves who were to take ship surrounded Sam and together they passed into the ship. Once aboard, Sam looked ashore and beheld Cirdan, who made a solemn bow to Celeborn, then turned and, taking up the mooring rope, came also aboard, the last of all. Then among the Elves there began great rejoicing and song, but upon the shore, Sam saw Celeborn turn his horse, and he looked no more upon the departing ship. With Rumil beside him, leading Sam's pony, they moved away upon the Road, and receeded into the distance, as the ship set sail and began to move away from the shore.

When morning came, Elanor discovered her father had not returned; when she went to the stable, the pony was there, contentedly munching hay in his stall. When her husband woke, he found Elanor sitting, quiet and dry-eyed, in the parlor, the book clutched tightly to her bosom.

'What's the matter? What's happened, my dear?' he asked, with puzzlement plain on his face.

'Dad's gone off, in the night,' she told him. 'I saw him take the pony, and ride away. The pony's back this morning, but he's not.'

'Gone off in the night? But why would he? He's likely to be lying hurt somewhere,' exclaimed her husband.

'No, he's not; Dad's gone off with the Elves,' said Elanor, smiling sadly. 'I think they've taken him to see Mr. Frodo.' Holding the book before her, she looked long upon it, and said, 'Good luck, Papa,' and kissed the worn red cover softly.

How long their ship sailed upon the water, Sam couldn't tell. It all seemed beyond his mind's grasp, somehow. Surprisingly, his fears had soon receeded, and he lay at times upon his hammock, or stood looking out at the endless ripples on the water, with a sense of calm anticipation. The Elves who were his shipmates were always polite and attentive when he was present among them, bringing him food or drink, telling him stories or singing songs, and listening to Sam, as he told them of his simple life in the Shire.

There came a day of cooling rain, and Sam stood under a white canopy, watching the rain fall like a soft, thick mist. Some time later, an tall, blonde Elf came to him bearing a bundle, and saying,

'Here, master, is new clothing, for your comfort.' Sam thanked him politely, and went to change, donning the hooded robe of deep forest green, which reached to his feet, and clasped a beautiful belt of finely wrought silver leaves about his waist.

'Well,' he thought shyly, 'this don't seem no fit gear for the likes of me.' But he didn't want to appear rude and ungrateful, so he left it on. When he went back out to the others, it seemed an air of exhilaration pervaded the others on board; even Cirdan stood in the prow, peering steadfastly into the mist. Then it seemed to Sam that his eyes were dazzled, for as the mist parted, drops of moisture clinging to his lashes caught the light of a new sun, as she rose above a vast, green land upon the horizon. Dashing the drops away with the back of his hand, he looked again upon that which lie before them. Then, as if for the first time, Sam perceived that all the stories he had heard were true; indeed, he, himself, was in one, and he thought,

'Now get ahold of yourself, Sam; don't go getting your hopes too high,' but he felt a song rising in his heart, and he sang it aloud; a song about the white ships sailing home, that he had heard from Bilbo, long ago.

Nearer now, Sam could see tall figures waiting upon the shore; and he heard beautiful voices raised in song, to welcome them. His eyes scanned the shore, but there was no sign of the much shorter figure whom he sought.

When the ship docked, the travelers were greeted by the host of Elves, their faces beaming with welcoming smiles. Two met Sam as he came ashore, bowing respectfully to him. Reaching out, they each took hold of Sam's hands, one upon either side, and led him towards a distant pavillion, crowned with a white canopy above. Once there, they stopped and motioned Sam forward. Beneath the canopy three figures sat, raised upon a dais, and their eyes were upon him as he approached. Sam felt as though his legs would give out, for there was Galadriel, whom he had never thought to lay eyes upon again; and if he had imagined her beautiful in Lothlorien, it was as nothing compared to her appearance in this place. Her face was aglow, her white raiment shining with ethereal radiance. There also was the Lord Elrond, and another whom Sam rejoiced to see. Sam bowed low, finding nothing to say. Then the Lady spoke:

'Greetings, Ringbearer; I perceive your life has been full and with great blessings; now, upon the shores of the Blessed Realm, you shall have your ultimate reward. May your days be filled with peace and joy in this place. The other rose, and came to stand before him; then, kneeling, Gandalf embraced Sam tightly.

'Gandalf,' Sam managed to utter, his voice choked with emotion. Then Gandalf stood, and gripped Sam by the shoulders; he, too, was dressed all in white, and he smiled upon Sam fondly.

'And now, my dear Samwise, you shall be made whole.' And bowing to Galadriel and to Elrond, Gandalf led Sam with his arm about Sam's shoulders. As they walked upon the grass, Sam found his tongue, and asked that which was foremost in his mind. Answering the second question first, Gandalf replied,

'Bilbo has passed peacefuly into the eternal realm; he lived happily here for all of his time.' They had reached a garden, it's many paths winding away among the clouds of bright flowers. Sam looked around him, unable to help admiring the most beautiful gardens he'd ever seen. At the end of one path stood an arbor, and here, Gandalf paused, urging Sam forward.

'He has been waiting for you,' said Gandalf, and left Sam standing there. Sam's steps were hesitant as he approached the arbor, and there, his heart leapt in his chest, and he thought it might burst with joy. He realized he had been afraid to hope. And if the others had shone with a white light, Sam perceived Frodo, seated within the arbor, as filled with a clear, pure light, almost as if one could see through him. Yet very real and solid he seemed to Sam, and he smiled, and held out his arms.

'Sam; so you have come to see me at last,' said Frodo. Sam took two steps, and enveloped Frodo in a gentle embrace.

'Mister Frodo, as I live and breath,' whispered Sam, and he burst into happy tears.

'Welcome home, Sam,' said Frodo. And that was the truth, for Sam's heart was, indeed, home at last. And the hours stood still, and time ceased to matter. As the two walked among the gardens or along the shore, Sam told Frodo of all that had passed in the time they had been apart. Or they could be seen in later times, seated upon the verdant hillsides, rejoicing in each other's company. And all who looked upon them smiled fondly and were glad, yet bowed with great respect whenever they passed. But Gandalf's joy was as boundless as the seas as he beheld them, together at last.

~ The End ~