1~The Scouring of the Shire

It is the end. Saruman is dead. At my doorstep. The Shire has been nearly all destroyed. I gaze over the ruins of what was once the beautiful garden of Bag End, and see Sam doing the same, a tear coming to his eyes.

He glances away and sees a few hobbits helping a badly wounded hobbit-lad down the hill to his hole, and leaps up to help them.

I look back down the lane and notice the crumpled body of Wormtounge still in the road. I had looked away when they shot him. The sight makes me feel sick, and I begin to sway, realizing that Sam isn't by my side.

But before I fall I see Sam giving Pippin a look and my dear cousin is by me, holding me up.

"Easy there, Frodo!" he says. "You feeling all right?"

"Not at the moment," I reply, suddenly thinking that I'm glad he's gotten stronger and taller than I, otherwise I would have knocked him over.

"When Sam's done, he can take you down to the Cotton's farm with him," Merry says. "Pippin and I will deal with this mess for you, Frodo."

I thank him, grateful. I do not want to handle this, and am glad that Merry and Pippin are willing to help.

A moment later Sam returns, and my stomach is more or less settled. He looks at me anxiously, and I say, "I'm fine, Sam."

"We should go now," he says. Most of the other hobbits are gone now, only a few, curious about us, remain.

"What will you do once you're finished here?" I ask, turning to my cousins.

"We'll come join you for the night, then decide where to go from there," Merry responds. "There's a lot to be done around here, that's for sure."

I nod and say farewell, then turn and follow Sam, who is holding the reigns of our ponies.

The Cotton's have been kind enough to offer the four of us a place to stay as long as we need it, and I am glad of it, as Bag End is not mine any longer, and I would not want to stay with my family at the Smials or at Brandy Hall. I love them dearly, but I don't want to leave Sam just yet.

When we get there, Mr. Cotton and Mr. Gamgee begin asking us questions about what we'd been doing. The Gaffer didn't seem to happy that I had run off for a whole year with his son, but he didn't say so.

"Where exactly were you?" Mr. Cotton questioned.

"Lot's of places," Sam says. "Mordor, mostly."

I shudder, not wanting to remember it.

"Mordor?" Mr. Cotton's eyes grow large. "Where Mr. Merry and Mr. Pippin there too?"

"Merry was in Rohan and Pippin was in Gondor," I reply, glad that he at least seems to believe us.

"Why'd you go there?" the Gaffer asks, looking quite cross.

"We had to, Da," Sam replies, but says no more. He glances over at me, and I smile at him the best I can.

"You had to, eh? Did you know yer sisters and Rosie have been worried sick about you?" the Gaffer replies.

Sam frowns. "Yes, Da. I realize that," he says.

I reach up to hold the jewel Lady Arwen gave me, and Mr. Cotton's eyes get very large. "What happened to yer finger, Mr. Frodo?" he asks.

I meet Sam's eyes, suddenly panicked. I'd not thought up a suitable explination for that. To tell them what happened would mean telling them the whole story, and I don't have the time, or the courage, to do that just now.

"I'd rather not talk about it just yet, Mr. Cotton," I reply quietly. Perhaps I'll just let them think that is the worst scar from my journety. Though I will never have it back, the loss of my finger is the least of my worries. I'm beginning to fear that my worst scars will not heal here in Middle-earth, not even given enough time.

Now it's supper time, and Merry and Pippin come through the door just as Rosie calls us to the table. It is laden with a less-than-hobbit sized meal, but it seems alot, concidering the circumstances.

Sam takes a seat by Rose, and I sit on his other side, with Merry and Pippin across from me. The Cotton boys and Sam's sisters find their places by us, and Mr. Cotton sits at the head.

My apetite must still be lacking, because I keep noticing May and Daisy watching me with worried expressions throughout the meal.

Sam also notices how I am eating, and leans over to tell me, "I'm glad you're eating more."

I smile at him and see Daisy's eyes widen in surprise.

"I suppose my stomach is healing more," I reply. All those weeks in Mordor with little or no food harmed me far worse than I had thought initially. "I'm hungry today. But Aragorn said not to over do it."

Sam shrugs. "Just don't starve yourself either, dear. Just because Strider says something doesn't mean it has my approval, hear?"

I nod. "Yes Sam."

Daisy and May are now looking at their brother, astonished that he would dare order me around.

I sit quietly for a moment, and am suddenly drawn back to the table by Sam saying, "Drink this, Mr. Frodo. Might make you feel better." He hands me a mug of ale. "Drink it down and try to enjoy yourself, we're celebrating the freedom of the Shire tonight."

I take the mug. "Did Aragorn say..." I begin.

"I don't care if Aragorn said you could or no. You're drinking that whole thing."

I smile, glad Sam said so.

But then I hear the Gaffer say, "Samwise, you oughtn't to order yer betters about."

I turn to him and say, "Mr. Gamgee, I am not Sam's 'better'. If anything, he is 'better' than I."

Sam blushes and the Gaffer looks confused, and a little surprised by my words.

"Frodo," Sam begins.

"And don't you 'Frodo' me. It's the truth and needs to be said," I tell him.

Merry and Pippin smile.

"Now that's settled," Merry says clapping his hands. "On to business!" He winks at Pippin, and they both grab their mugs of ale. "I hearby challenge Sir Peregrine of Gondor to a drinking match!"

I shake my head, smiling. They'll be in pain in the morning. And they know that, yet they insist on having their "fun." I remember doing the same as a tween and enjoying it at the time, but such games do not tempt me now.

"Frodo! Come keep count!" Pippin says as the girls clear the table and start knitting.

I step over to where I can see them both and say, "Go." I begin to drink my own ale at a much more leasurely pace.

2 ~ The Lockholes

We decided this morning to leave Hobbiton for Michel Delving to free the hobbits from the lockholes. We rode out early and are now standing outside the hole.

Merry steps in first as a group of local hobbits gather round, ready to help if needed. Pippin, Sam and I follow close behind and soon we come to a cell with a young hobbit-lad about Pippin's age.

He told us he'd only been there a few days, and even that was horrible. I brace myself for what else we might find down there, and plod on to find the next person.

That next person happens to be our good friend Fredegar Bolger. He is very thin and looks ill. I unlock the cell and we enter it.

"Can you walk, Freddy my lad?" Merry asks.

He shakes his head in wonder. "I don't think so. Is this really happening? I thought you were dead!" his voice is weak and raspy.

Merry bends down and lifts him, seeing that he weighs barely anything.

*“You would have done better to come with us after all, poor old Fredegar!” Pippin says.

Freddy opens an eye and tries gallantly to smile. “Who’s this young giant with the loud voice?” he whispers. “Not little Pippin! What’s your size in hats now?” *

Pippin laughs. “The biggest hats in the Shire won’t fit me now, Freddy!”

Sam and I move on as they carry him outside to a carriage waiting to return him to his family, and Merry decides to go with him.

Pippin returns to help us unlock quite a few more cells. Some of the hobbits I recognize. Others I do not.

I find myself thinking maybe I could have prevented this by staying put. If I hadn’t left maybe the Ring would’ve stayed quiet, as it had been, in Bilbo’s possession for so long. I shake my head. No. It had been looking for ways to return to Sauron. Nobody would have been safe if I hadn’t gone away. Sauron would have taken over and the destruction of the Shire would have been worse.

Still… I feel as if I am responsible somehow.

Now we come to a cell, whose occupant is shouting loudly. I glance over at her.

“Lobelia?” I question.

She stares at me long and hard, then says, “Get me out of here, Frodo Baggins! Where are those ruffians? I’ll give them a talking to for locking me in here!”

For all her vocal fire, she is very thin and looks weak and sickly. I unlock the cell and she limps out, steadying herself on me.

“Where are they?”

“They’re gone, ma’am,” Sam says.

“They’d better be,” she says, waving her battered umbrella in his face.

“Let me carry you out, ma’am,” Sam says, leaning over to lift her, but she stops him and says, “I’m walking out of here on my own two feet, thank you very much.”

She grabs my arm for support and begins walking out of the lockholes. When we reach the entrance the hobbits outside begin cheering and clapping. Apparently news of her standing up to the Ruffian’s has gotten around quickly.

“Where’s my Lotho?” she asks me, looking around, her eyes filled with tears. No one has ever clapped for her before to my knowledge.

“I’m afraid he’s been murdered by the Ruffians, Lobelia,” I reply gently.

She looks stricken. “Murdered?”

I nod. “I am very sorry.”

She looks at me suspiciously, then, seeing that I truly mean it, she bursts into tears, leaning her head on my shoulder.

I lead her over to one of her Bracegirdle cousins, standing nearby, ready to help her away in her wagon, watch as they drive away, wondering if she’ll go back to Bag End, then turn back and help with the rest of the prisoners.

That night I am so tired I almost head for my room before supper, until Sam reminds me, and I join the others at the table. But I don’t feel like eating much tonight, and receive looks of concern from Daisy, May and Sam.

Not feeling much better after supper, I head straight to bed and fall asleep the moment my head touches the pillow. Tomorrow we are to visit the Mayor, who we rescued from the lockholes, to discuss the problem of finding a Deputy Mayor, seeing as Mr. Whitfoot isn’t quite in the right health to attend to his duties.

* * *

This morning Sam wakes me by touching my good shoulder and saying, “Wake up, Mr. Frodo.”

I glance up at him, and he smiles at me. “Did you sleep all right?”

I nod. “Better than I have for a while.” I reply, rubbing my eyes

“I’m glad.” He glances towards the door as someone rushes by, then back at me.

“Your sisters seem to be overly concerned with my health,” I say, smiling wryly.

Sam rolls his eyes. “You know they’ve always liked you,” he replies.

I shake my head and laugh quietly. “Yes. Who doesn’t know? They weren’t exactly discrete about it, Sam.”

“You can say that again,” Sam says with a laugh, both of us remembering their numerous attempts to get me to like them.

“I just hope they don’t ask me about it,” I say quietly.

“I don’t think they will. They’ve barely said two words to me, and act in awe of all four of us,” Sam states. “Only Marigold and Rosie are acting sane. Rosie doesn’t like it that we left, and Marigold is overjoyed that we’re back.”

I smile. Marigold had been literally bouncing up and down with happiness when her elder brother returned.

“What time is it?” I ask.

“Nearly time for second breakfast,” Sam says. “You slept clear through first breakfast, so I figured I’d better come wake you up.”

I rise and get dressed, then join Sam and Merry and Pippin in the kitchen for an early second breakfast meal, then we head out on our ponies to visit Will Whitfoot.

A/N: the lines in between the * are from The Return of the King: The Grey Havens. I did not make them up. I only changed the tense, for sake of the story.

3 ~ Deputy Mayor

Mrs. Whitfoot answers the door when we arrive, and leads us to the parlor, where Mr. Whitfoot is sitting in a comfortable arm chair, his feet propped up. He looks at us and smiles briefly.

“Hello, lads,” he greets us. “Sit down, sit down!”

We take our seats on the remaining chairs in the parlor. Sam and I sit on the couch, and Merry and Pippin on the two chairs by the fireplace.

“How are you feeling, Will?” Merry asks, “You look a lot better than you did yesterday.”

“Thank you, Meriadoc. I am feeling better now that I’m out of that horrid place,” he says, smiling at us lopsided.

He looks less pale, and a little less starved.

Now, on to business,” Will says, clapping his thin hands. “I am afraid that both my healer and my wife have decided that I am not yet healthy enough to go back to work, so I am in need of a Deputy Mayor after all.”

I nod. “Any suggestions as to whom?” I can’t think of any off the top of my head.

“Actually, yes,” he replies. “I was thinking of you, Frodo.”

My eyes widen, and I’m sure I look as shocked as I feel. Merry and Pippin look surprised, Sam looks concerned.

“Me?” I ask, hoping my voice isn’t giving away how scared I am. I don’t know hardly anything about the Mayor’s job, and it never interested me.

“It would only be temporary, Frodo. Just until Mid-years at the most,” Will says.

I look at him carefully. “Mid-years? That’s a rather long time,” I reply. “Is your condition that serious?”

He shrugs. “I suppose you’d say so. Not life threatening. Just uncomfortable, and dreadfully inconvenient,” he says with a slight chuckle. “The healer said that since I was down there so long the lack of fresh air damaged my lungs, and the lack of substantial food damaged my stomach.”

My eyebrows raise, and my thoughts suddenly drift back to Ithilien. I glance at Sam. He meets my eyes and rests a hand on my back. I turn back to Mr. Whitfoot and say, “I didn’t realize it was that bad. I, myself, was afflicted by much the same problem not long ago.”

Will looks at me strangely for a moment. “How did that come about?” he asks.

“The air of Mordor is mostly ash and fumes,” I reply. “My supplies ran out as well.” Nearly everyone I know has heard that I was in Mordor. Very few know, or care to know, why.

“I see,” Will states. “Was it a long recovery for you?”

I shake my head. The recovery wasn’t long, but the after affects are still lingering. Though my case was decidedly worse than Will’s. “No,” I tell him. “My healer was one of the Dunedain, gifted with healing.”

“Then will you be willing to be my Deputy Mayor?” Will asks.

I hesitate, then nod. “If you think I’d do a good job, then I’d be honored to.”

He smiles at me. “There’s no one I’d trust more,” he says.

Trust… Oh, if he only knew how “trustworthy” I’d been on the Quest. An image of my hand holding Sting to Sam’s throat enters my mind, but I push it aside, trying to focus on the task at hand.

“There will be papers to sign, as usual, and we must have reliable witnesses chosen,” Will is saying as I force myself back to reality. “We have two here, if Meriadoc and Sam want to sign it. And I’m sure the Thain and the Master will want to sign it as well, so with me that makes five. You can choose the other two Frodo.”

The discussion is ended soon enough, and we go back to the Cotton’s for elevenses. But soon after that Merry and Pippin set off with a group of sturdy hobbits to route out a group of ruffians hanging around the south farthing.

Sam goes out to supervise the clearing of the hill. The houses are to be torn down and holes re-dug along Bagshot Row, which people have talked about re-naming as well. I like the old name.

I remain at the Cotton’s, thinking over the events of the day. Suddenly I feel overwhelmed. How can I possibly be deputy mayor? My brain and my nerves have been tested enough.

When Sam comes to my room first thing to say hello after he returns, I am lying on my bed, trying to read to take my mind off of things.

He takes one look at me and knows something is wrong. He puts a hand under my chin, and lifts it to look into my eyes.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, looking concerned.

I shake my head. “It’s gone Sam,” I say.

“Yes, it is,” he replies, looking at me curiously.

“No, you don’t understand,” I tell him. “It’s gone, so that they can live peacefully. And no one seems to care why or how it happened.”

Sam watches me carefully. “What are you saying, Frodo?”

I look down at my hands, feeling miserable. “I’m not quite recovered yet, Sam. It’s hard. It hurts. And now they want me to be Deputy Mayor. I may not be a physical invalid, but I’m still not as well as everyone wants to think. I’m so afraid I’ll let someone else down.”

Sam pulls me into a hug as he sits on the edge of the bed, and says, “You’ll do your very best, I know you will. I know it’s hard, but you will be healed. I know it.”

Sometimes I wish I had his confidence. But there is a reason he has it, not me.

“I understand, though, Frodo. Don’t think too badly of them for not gettin’ it or appreciating it. They don’t want to know what happened because they don’t want to believe anything so evil would have anything to do with us.” He makes me look at him again. “They want to believe they’re safe. And they are, because of you. They wouldn’t feel half as safe if they knew of all the dangers beyond our borders. I’m afraid the ruffians was as much as they could handle.”

I look at Sam, surprised. “I’ve never thought of it that way before.” I frown. “It makes no sense to me, but I can see why they would think that way.”

Sam looks at me questioningly. I know he sees it as simple hobbit sense. Now I am beginning to wonder if it is really sense at all, or only blind ignorance. Whatever it truly is, I am glad of it now that Sam has explained this to me.

We hear a knock on the door, and Rosie steps in.

“Time for supper, lads,” she says, smiling at Sam.

Sam’s face suddenly brightens as he gazes back at her. “We’ll be there in a moment, Rosie,” he replies.

She nods, her red-brown curls bouncing at the movement, then she leaves.

Sam turns to me, “Do you think you can come eat, dear?” he asks.

I shrug and he looks at me reproachfully. Reluctantly I rise from my bed and follow Sam out.

4 ~ The Message 

It is two days later. The official document that will seal my fate is sitting on Will's side table. It has only to be signed by the seven witnesses and I shall be locked into another task I am unsure I can accomplish.

Sam has faith in me. I cannot let him down again. I have already agreed to this, so I must do it to the best of my ability, failings or no.

I sign my name under the clause stating my official duties and what is expected of me. My hand, surprisingly, is not shaky or scrawling, as I had suspected it would be. It is still difficult for me to write without a finger, but I was afraid they would attribute such a hand to fear.

I step back and hand to quill to Will, who wipes it, and dips it in the red ink, and the witnesses sign it one by one: William Whitfoot; Paladin Took; Saradoc Brandybuck; Meriadoc Brandybuck; Samwise Gamgee; Hamfast Gamgee; Tolman Cotton.

I glance around at them as they finish, feeling my heart stop pounding, and a calm flow over me. They all think I can do this, and wouldn't be backing me if they didn't.

"Well, that's done," Sam says. "What next?"

"Frodo will file this for me in my office in Hobbiton and take up his official duties in the morning. Really he doesn't need to do much except paperwork, and deal with those confounded Shirrifs."

"Unless Aragorn sends word," Merry adds.

"Who?" Will asks.

"Aragorn, King Elessar," Merry replies. "We talked about him two evenings ago, with all of you."

"What business does he have with the Shire?" Paladin asks, slightly defencive. "You didn't mention that."

"All in good time, Uncle," Merry says. "He wants to help the Shire. He even suggested banning Men from entering."

"How do you know we can trust him? You said you spent much time with him, but didn't say much on his character," Saradoc questions.

"His character is the very highest," I say, glancing at both of them. "He is a very good friend of ours: Merry, Pippin, Sam and I. He is trustworthy, loyal, honest and courageous."

This seems to satisfy them and they cease asking about Aragorn and start discussing banning Men from the Shire.

I sink onto the couch by Sam and try to pay attention to what they are saying, but my thoughts stray to Aragorn and Lady Arwen. I have not heard from them since we parted ways and headed towards the Shire.

Suddenly I turn to Sam. "We did make sure to give him our addresses, didn't we?"

Sam blinks. "Strider?" I nod. "Yes. We gave him mine, and Mr. Merry's and Mr. Pippin's."

"I was afraid we'd forgotten," I reply.

Sam smiles at me, and I look at him quizzically. "What?" I ask.

"I believe that's the most hobbit-like thing I've heard you say in a long while," he says.

I smile back and lean my head on his shoulder. The discussion is giving me a headache. Merry and Pippin sit down next to me. "You worry too much, cousin," Merry says. "You forget, Strider is a Ranger, and most definately capable of tracking you down."

"If they ban Men from the Shire, does that include Gandalf and Aragorn?" Sam asks me.

"Well, Gandalf isn't really a Man, he's a wizard, and quite capable of sneaking in anyhow. I suppose, though, that Aragorn would have to follow his own laws," I reply, thinking what that would mean for the four of us.

Suddenly there is a knock at the door and Mr. Cotton goes to answer it.

A messanger hobbit stands at the door. He smiles at Mr. Cotton and says, "Letter for Mr. Baggins."

I raise my head, and say, "For me?" I am surprised. I haven't gotten any mail since I got back.

The messenger bows and leaves.

"Who is it from?" I ask, rising.

"Lobelia Sackville-Baggins," Mr. Cotton reads slowly. He hands me the letter and I rip it open to read it.

The whole room grows quiet as I read it to myself. Then I look up. "She's giving me Bag End."

"What?" everyone in the room explodes in unison.

"She says she's very sorry for all the trouble she's caused me, and that she doesn't want to live there anyways because of what happened to Lotho," I read.

"She's really changed, hasn't she?" Uncle Sara murmures. I remember her being the reason my aunt and uncle wanted me to come back to Brandy Hall.

"I do believe she has, Uncle." I collapse onto the couch and sigh. Now I can go home. That may help me even more than coming back to the Shire. I hope it does.

5 ~ Bag End

Sam and I step across the threshold of Bag End. It's been two weeks since Lobelia gave it to me, and today is the first time I've gone back.

The inside reeks of grubby Men, and most of the floors and walls are dirty. The furniture is ruined and the doors are falling off their hinges.

I stand in the doorway of what used to be my bedroom and see that it has been transformed into a rather cluttered, dirty office.

"This place is a worse mess than I expected," Sam exclaims. "If Saruman weren't dead, I'd kill him!"

I sigh. "There's so much work do be done here, and I don't have time for it." I remember the boxes of paperwork needing to be signed and filed properly. The task is almost as daunting as climing the Mountain of Fire, and nearly as high.

"Don't you worry, Frodo. I'll take care of this for you," Sam says, squeesing my good shoulder. "I might not get to it 'till after Yule, but I'll get to it."

"Thank you, Sam," I say, glancing around the parlor one last time. I see a basket in the corner with something fuzzy in it.

"Sam!" I exclaim. "Look!" I hurry over to the tint kitten in the basket and find a note attached.

"His name is Wanderer. I don't have enough money to take care of him, and his Mum died," I read the note.

"Somebody must've been in here lately," Sam states. "The lock on the door's been broken, so who knows who's been in here."

"Do you think the Cotton's would mind if I keep him?" I ask, looking up at Sam.

"P'raps. He's awful cute," Sam replies petting the kitten's head. Sam has always liked cats.

I pick the kitten up and he licks my nose. "Wanderer, is it?" I say. "I think we've all had enough wandering, don't you think?"

Sam smiles and chuckles.

I glare at him jokingly. "Don't tell me you never talk to Bill. I've seen you do it." That silences him and we walk out of the hole.

* * *

"Reminds me of your first cat, Pip," Merry says when we get back to the Cotton farm. They are staying the night, and plan on leaving for Crickhollow in the morning.

"No, not in the least," Pippin retorts. "My first cat was big, scary and as ugly as a horse's backside."

"Watch it Pip, the lasses are still here," Merry reminds our beloved cousin.

Rosie laughs. "We don't mind," she replies, smiling at Pippin.

Pippin blushes. Rosie can do that to any of us four. Her smile reminds me of an Elf maiden's.

"So what's his name?" Rosie asks, leaning over the table to pet him.

"Wanderer," I reply. "They didn't leave an explanation why."

"I think he's lovely," Marigold says, coming up to stand by Rose.

"Will your Da let me keep him, Rose?" I ask, looking up at her hopefully.

"I don't see why not," she says. "We've plenty of animals here. One more shouldn't be a problem."

I smile and Sam meets my gaze, smiling as well.

I put Wanderer's basket by my bed, and find a box to fill with sand to put in the corner for him.  I find a blanket for him, as the nights are getting colder the closer we get to December. Then I sit back and smile. The wanderer has found a home.

I join the others in the parlor intil dinner. It makes me happy to hear my dear friends talking about normal hobbit things. They all seem so happy now, despite the Troubles. They have moved on much faster than I can.

I sit between Sam and Pippin tonight, wrapped in my blanket with Wanderer curled up in my lap.

“I think he likes you, Fro,” Pippin says to me, watching the kitten lick my thumb.

“I’m glad,” I reply, smiling. “He’s a very sweet cat. Perhaps his name should have been Pippin.”

Pippin shakes his head. “I’m honored, cousin, but I do believe his name should have been Sam.”

Sam glances at Pippin. “Oh, no. His name should have been Frodo.”

I shake my head and smile. I like Wanderer’s name the way it is. Merry saves me by saying, “Nay, friends, his name should have been Merry, for we all know I am the sweetest.”

The room erupts in laughter.

6 ~ Yule

Today is first Yule in the Shire. Sam and I are headed to the Took Smials to spend it with my family. Sam, of course, had to be talked into coming, as he said it wouldn’t be “proper”. I am beginning to hate that word. I argued that Pippin specifically invited him and it wouldn’t be “proper” to refuse an invitation.

So now the two of us are riding our ponies towards the Smials, both of us silent, thinking.

This will be the first Yule we’ve celebrated in a long while, though at the moment I don’t feel much like celebrating. My duties as Deputy Mayor aren’t that difficult. All I’ve done so far is reduce the number of Shirrif’s, remove the horrid “rules” that first welcomed us home, and tackling about half of a stack of paperwork without making much of a dent in the over all pile. I’m doing all that they’ve asked of me, yet I can’t help wondering if there’s something I’ve overlooked.

I am unsure what Sam is thinking. He has been very busy lately, with the restoring of Hobbiton. They’ve just begun to re-dig the holes along Bagshot Row and fixing up the town. Bywater is mostly fixed as well, and The Green Dragon is scheduled to re-open in a few weeks.

I glance over at Sam, and see that something is troubling him.

“Is something the matter, Sam?” I ask.

He glances up at me, and says, “Well, truth is, I had wanted to have Bag End all fixed up for you as a Yule gift, but it ain’t finished at all yet.”

I smile and chuckle. “Oh, Sam, you are a wonder! I don’t think I’ve ever had a better friend than you!”

Sam blushes. “But ‘tisn’t even finished…”

“It doesn’t matter. At least you thought of it.” I smile at him.

He smiles back, and we urge our ponies into a canter as we come closer to the Smials.

* * *

At the door we are met by Merry and Pippin and their parents, and instantly taken to wash up for luncheon.

“So how was the ride over?” Merry asks as I rinse my hands and step aside to let Sam wash his hands.

“All right. The wind was really bad in Bywater area, though,” I reply taking off my Elven cloak, and unclasping Sam’s as he dries his hands. I am, for once, too hungry to wait for him to finish.

“Let me take those,” Pippin says, taking the cloaks from my hands and heading for the coat rack. “Now, let’s hurry! Aunt Esme said that the food will be served in five minutes, and I for one want to be there.”

I smile and ruffle his red-brown curls playfully.

We follow them into the dining room and seat ourselves around the table as Aunt Esme, Uncle Sara, Uncle Paladin, and Aunt Tina enter the room.

“So glad you could come, Frodo,” Aunt Esme says as she sits down to my right near the foot of the table, where Aunt Tina is seated. “You as well, Samwise.”

“Honored, ma’am,” Sam replies, and I reach under the table to give my aunt’s hand a squeeze.

Esme smiles at me, then glances down the table at her husband as the servants bring out platters of food.

Pippin’s eyes brighten and he rubs his hands together greedily. Merry elbows him and gives him a look and Pippin tried to hold in his enthusiasm.

“I see one of us is eager to begin,” Uncle Sara says, eyeing Pippin with good humor.

Aunt Tina and Aunt Esme giggle.

“I’m sorry,” Pippin replies with a smile. “It’s just that I haven’t eaten since first breakfast and I am rather hungry.”

“Well, then, no need to keep you waiting. Shall we begin?” Paladin says, smiling at his son.

* * *

After luncheon we head for the parlor, and Uncle Sara stops me in the hallway.

“Frodo, could I have a word?” he begins, looking concerned.

I look at him, perplexed. “Is something wrong, Uncle Sara?”

He shakes his head. “Perhaps. I wish to speak to you about something.”

“As you wish,” I say, following him to Uncle Paladin’s study a few doors down.

“What do you want to speak to me about?” I ask.

He motions for me to sit down in one of the chairs in front of the desk and stands beside the desk, leaning against it. “Frodo, you know I love you as a son,” he begins. “And therefore I desire to protect you from harm, no matter how old you are.”

I know this much as he has told me so more than once.

“So I want to tell you that there have been…rumors going around about you,” he finishes, watching me for a reaction.

My stomach sinks. Somehow I knew something like this would happen.

“What kind of rumors, Uncle Sara?” I ask, not sure I want to hear the answer.

7 ~ Rumors

“Have you heard any of them?” Sara asks. “They’ve been circulating since late November, no doubt started by sour relatives of Mrs. Sackville-Baggins.”

I shake my head. I hadn’t heard them, or even knew they existed.

Uncle Sara sighs. “Well, there are those who are saying that you and Sam are far too close for comfort.”

My eyes open suddenly, shocked. “What!? Who would say that?” This is just plain insulting. That anyone would stoop so low as to attack my honour is disconcerting.  “He’s like my brother, Uncle. Like my family. That’s as close as it is,” I say. “We’ve been through a lot together.”

“I’m not questioning that, Frodo. I’m only saying that people will believe what they want to believe,” he replies. “Whether it’s the truth or not.”

“What else are they saying?” I ask, letting my head fall into my hands.

“They’re saying it was rather convenient that Lobelia gave you Bag End the day you became the one in charge of such affairs,” Sara comments. “And one I heard just recently is that you only became Deputy Mayor so that the King could gain more control over the Shire, and bring Men back.”

“So they’re attacking Aragorn as well?” I shake my head in despair.

“Don’t give up, Frodo,” Uncle Sara says, putting a hand on my shoulder. “I know they aren’t true and Paladin knows they aren’t true. We just wanted you to be prepared incase someone were to say something tonight at the party.”

I nod. “Thank you Uncle,” I say, glancing up at him.

“You’re very welcome, lad. I love you.” He kisses the top of my head and I smile.

“I love you, Uncle.”

“Do know, Paladin and I will do all in our power to stop these rumors. And if certain people won’t listen to the Thain and Master, then that is their problem.” He smiles at me encouragingly, then says, “Let’s go into the parlor now.”

I rise and follow him out.

Merry, Sam and Pippin are all crowded on the one couch in the room with Esme, Tina and Paladin on a few chairs. They are in the process of having new furniture made as their old pieces were used as extra kindling during the Troubles.

I go to sit on the floor by Sam’s feet, but he stops me.

“I’ll sit there, Frodo. You sit up here,” he says, rising.

I smile. “Oh, no, Sam dear, that’s quite all right. I prefer sitting on the ground to being squished by giants.” I glance playfully at my cousins, who both roll their eyes.

I sink to the floor and rest my head against Pippin’s knee. Sam gives up arguing, knowing he won’t win, and sits back down.

“We’re having the Big Party tonight,” Aunt Tina is saying. “Almost everyone we know and more are attending, as this is the first official party since before the Troubles.”

“And there is no lack of food or drink,” Pippin adds, absentmindedly playing with my hair. “Almost every farm around has given what they can afford to make this Yule special.”

“So it isn’t just limited to the Smials?” I ask, surprised. That is usually the case; those that live there and close relations.

“Oh no!” Aunt Tina exclaims. “We’ve practically invited the whole Shire! And it’s a good thing the Smials are so big, or else we’d never find enough room. As it is, we’re erecting quite a few pavilions out back for the food and dinner tables.”

She seems as happy as a lass with a new pet. I smile. I haven’t seen her like this since before we left. She’s been so worried about Pippin. More so, I think, then Esme worried about Merry and I. Which is strange, as Aunt Tina is not much of a worrier.

“Oh, I do hope this turns out, Tina!” Aunt Esme says. “It is going to be so much fun!”

8 ~ The Party

We are pleasantly surprised that evening when Sam’s family and the Cotton’s show up at the Smials for the party. None of them had mentioned anything, wanting to surprise us by being there. They’d even rented rooms at the nearby inn, and Rosie had brought my kitten with her.

Many people had arrived early, not wanting to miss anything, and I was pleased to see Fredegar Bolger, well and himself again, excepting a limp in his right leg, attending with his parents and his sister, Estella.

I rush over to give him a hug, and say, “Glad to see you’re feeling better, Freddy!”

“Well, I won’t be doing any dancing tonight, that’s for sure, but I am feeling much better, thank you!” he replies. “And how are you?”

Estella steps up to us and says, “Hello Frodo! It’s good to see you again, it’s been so long!”

I smile at her. It seemed that ever time I would go to visit Freddy, Estella was always out. I hadn’t seen her since before the Quest, nearly two years.

“You as well. I do believe Merry was waiting for you to come,” I say, grinning at her. “He’s probably near the kitchen with Pippin making a nuisance of himself.”

“Well, then, I had better go relieve them of their nuisance and ask Merry to dance with me,” she says with a sparkle in her eye.

I turn to Freddy as she walks off, and say, “Since when did she grow up?”

He shrugs and we laugh.

* * *

Freddy, Pippin and I sit along the sidelines of the dance floor watching the others dancing, but quite content to stay put ourselves.

Sam and Rosie have danced nearly every dance together, and are now heading off in the direction of the food tables, just outside the open doors for refreshments. Merry and Estella are with them, and they all appear to be having a wonderful time.

I meet Sam’s gaze across the room, and he smiles at me. I smile back.

“Pippin, that girl over there has been staring at you all evening,” Freddy says. “Go ask her for a dance.”

Pippin and I glance where Freddy discretely indicated to see a pretty young lass about Pippin’s age with grey-green eyes and long red-gold curls.

“She’s pretty, Pip. Maybe you should chance it,” I say. “She might be nice too.”

The next song starts up, and Pippin stands. “I think I shall. Hold this,” he says, handing me his ale mug.

“Oh dear,” I say, glancing at Freddy with a look of mock concern. “It’s more than hald empty!”

We laugh as Sam comes up. For a moment all three of us watch in silence as Pippin asks the girl, and she blushes, then she smiles, and stands, and they walk onto the dance floor hand in hand.

I look at Sam. “Where’s Rosie?” I ask.

“She promised her brother Jolly she’d dance one with him,” Sam replies, sitting down beside me on the bench as I take a drink from Pippin’s mug.

“Have you eaten anything yet, dear?” Sam asks me.

I shake my head.

“You should,” he chides me.

“Sam, I had a rather large lunch, if you didn’t notice, and if I eat anything more just now I think I shall be sick,” I reply, hoping this will make him stop. It does.

“All right,” he says with a sigh. “But I want you to eat something before this night is over.”

“If you say so Sam,” I say surprised at the unexpected comeback. Sam sits back smugly, enjoying his victory.

“Don’t get too cocky, my lad,” I reply. “ You won’t beat me next time.”

Freddy chuckles, then we all fall silent for a moment, watching the dancers. Pippin appears to be getting along with his dance partner, and I see her laugh at something he says.

Uncle Sara and Aunt Esme come join us. They had been busy in the background until just now.

“It’s good to see you well again, Fredegar,” Aunt Esme says, smiling at him.

“Thank you very much,” he replies.

Sara pulls Sam and I aside as Aunt Esme continues to engage Freddy in conversation.

“There’s a Man to see you at the front door,” he tells us. “He said it is an urgent matter.”

I nod. “Did he leave a name?” I ask.

Sara shakes his head. “None. Said he needed to talk to you.” He pauses, then says, “Frodo, one of Lobelia’s loud mouthed relatives is here tonight, and liable to make a fuss about this…”

“I won’t bring him in then, unless it’s important,” I reply. “I’ll be back shortly.” Sam and I head for the doorway, and find Merry and Pippin waiting in the foyer.

“I can’t think of who it could be,” Pippin says as we head for the entryway.

We step through the arch, and all four of us gasp in wonder, for there, sitting in our hallway, dressed in his Ranger attire is Aragorn.

I run to him, Merry, Pippin and Sam not far behind, and find myself enveloped in his arms.

“What are you doing here?” Pippin asks the moment he regains his senses.

“I said I would come visit the rest of my kingdom,” Aragorn replies with a broad smile.

I look up and see that all four of us have tackled him to the ground quite successfully, and also managed not to break my aunt’s favorite vase on the hall table.

“Uncle Sara said you needed to talk to us about urgent matters,” I say, suddenly worried that something has happened.

“Of course,” he says with a smile. “Seeing my friends on Yule is very urgent.”

I look at him reproachfully for a moment, then smile, and laugh. “Oh I’ve missed you, Aragorn!” I say, hugging him as best I can.

“How’s Gondor?” Merry asks. “Not too big of a country, is it? I could take half of it, if you want.”

“As if you could control it!” Pippin says with a snort. “Now me on the other hand…”

“Neither of you could do a good job, beggin’ yer pardon,” Sam says. “I think Strider’s the only one who can do that.”

I roll my eyes, and, as the three of them continue to argue, I whisper to Strider, “Maybe I should take Arwen’s gift. Any place would be better than here listening to this all day long!” I grin at him, and he smiles back. Then we both start laughing.

9 ~ Motives

Moments later we are all standing outside, a far more comfortable place than inside the Smial for Aragorn, concidering his height.

He has told us that he came to discuss certain issues with the Thain and the Master of Buckland, and me, but that he decided to come early to spend Yule with us.

Then, as he came to stay for quite a while, and they concern him as well, I tell them about the rumors.

Aragorn looks very grave for a moment, then says, "I cannot believe a hobbit would start such rumors."

Sam and Pippin are silent. Merry shakes his head.

"Uncle Sara told me that it was Lergie Bracegirdle who apparently started them," I reply.

"Repeated them, perhaps, but I don't think he would have started them," Aragorn says.

"Then who did?" Sam asks, looking up at him.

"Perhaps a ruffian who decided to hang around. Obviously it's someone who wants to discredit you, Sam and me," Aragorn replies.

"But why?" I demand. "And if it was a ruffian, how would he know I became Deputy Mayor? How would he know anything about me?"

"I am not sure. But I do not think half the hobbits in the Shire understand half the implications of those rumors," Aragorn states, leaning against the wall of the Smial.

"But Lergie Bracegirdle isn't from the Shire!" Merry says, standing up suddenly from where he had been sitting.

We all look at him quizzically.

"Where IS he from?" Pippin asks.

"He's lived in Bree for the past thirty years. He moved back about half a year before the Troubles. I know because my father didn't want to let him pass through Buckland, he's a rather shady character if you ask me."

"Well that explains some of it, but it doesn't give us a motive," Aragorn says.

I shudder.

"Some people are just bad, if you understand me," Sam says. "If they can't get what they want, they don't want anyone else to be happy neither."

"You think Bracegirdle had a financial motive behind this?" Merry asks me.

I think for a moment. Then it suddenly dawns on me. "I think he would have been Lobelia's heir," I say. "He must have come back from Bree when he heard Lobelia and Lotho owned Bag End, and after the Troubles he must've been waiting for her to die so he would have Bag End."

"So now he's just trying to do as much damage as possible and hope something good happens to him," Pippin states, frowning.

"A habit he most likely picked up in Bree." Aragorn sighes in disgust.

"They say that bad company corrupts good character," I add. "Not that everyone in Bree is like that, but it seems to be the case here."

"Now the only question is what do we do?" Merry sits back down on the bench and glances around at us.

"We pay him no mind," Sam says. "Go about our business as if we don't care what he says. We won't let him defeat us by seeing us cower away."

Pippin nods. "We've conquered bigger problems than this before. I side with Sam. Who's with us?"

10 ~ Breakfast

I sit alone on my bed late that evening, pondering the events of the day. I've tried to stop thinking, but I can't. My mind is racing.

We decided that Aragorn would stay in one of the empty mathom rooms that night, as it was the only room big enough for him to sleep in, and the room least likely that anyone would look in.

The party is just now breaking up, and luckily we didn't have any trouble with Mr. Bracegirdle, but I figured it was just as well that I was out of the way as the guests left.

Someone knocks on my door and I rise to answer it.

"Frodo, Rosie says she's brought Wanderer with her," Sam says, leaning on my doorframe. "She didn't want to leave him, says he was whining for you."

"Where is he?" I ask, confused.

"At the inn she's stayin' at. I was going to take her over there and she asked if you wanted to come too."

I smile. "Yes, I'd like that."

We head down the hall and find Rosie in the entryway, already bundled up in her warm winter cloak and the scarf Sam gave her for Yule. Sam and I grab our elven cloaks from the coat tree and we head out.

"Are you lads going to be warm enough?" Rosie asks, glancing at the thin material of our cloaks questioningly.

"They are alot warmer than they appear," I assure her, pulling my hood up to keep my ears warm. It has begun to snow and the temperature is dropping.

I glance over at my companions a moment later and see Rosie slip her hand into Sam's. I smile to myself. They shall be happily married someday, and be blessed with many children. I only hope I shall be here to see them all.

Sam meets my gaze and smiles back, but I can tell he noticed the brief sadness in my expression.

We reach the inn shortly after, and Rosie shows us to her room, where Wanderer is waiting on her bed. As I approach he walks to the edge of the bed and meows for me to pick him up.

"I'm afraid he's missed you terribly, Mr. Frodo," Rosie says, grinning as I lift the tabby kitten into my arms.

"Thank you for taking care of him for me," I reply, smiling at her. For a moment the whole world feels perfect, just the three of us and Wanderer. Then I am brought back to the real world as Sam lays a hand on my arm and says, "It's late, dear. We'd best get Wanderer's things and get you home, and let Rosie get to bed. She looks almost as tired as you do."

"Tired and happy," Rosie replies beaming at Sam. Then she turns 'round and grabs Wanderer's basket and sand box and hands them to Sam. "And here's a bag of leftover food my Mum sent for him." She puts the sack in the basket, then we say goodnight and leave.

* * *

This morning I awake to the sound of conversation outside my room. The voices are too low for me to understand what they are saying, but loud enough for me to know that Aragorn and Sam are standing there.

I rise and get dressed, then join them in the hall. Sam looks a bit surprised to see me up so early.

"I was just coming to wake you," he says, searching my face. "Is something the matter?"

I shake my head. "Wanderer woke me up," I reply. "He seems to think that my bed is his."

Aragorn smiles as said kitten prances happily out of my room and leaps towards my  left shoulder. He grabs the cat mid-leap and stroaks his silky grey fur gently. "Wrong shoulder, Wanderer," he says, placing him safely on my right shoulder.

"He's attached to me because I rescued him from Bag End," I say. "But he's only two months old. When he grows up he may leave me alone more."

We start down the hall. I feel as though I need to talk to keep from worrying about all that has happened lately, and, luckily, Aragorn is willing to comply.

"Have you met Merry and Pippin's parents yet?" I ask, glancing up at Aragorn's hunched figure.

"Yes, I met them this morning, as a matter of fact," he replies, attempting not to bump his head in any of the doorways. "They seem like very nice people."

"They are," I reply. "Really they're my cousins, however many times removed, but I've always called them my aunts and uncles. Uncle Sara and Aunt Esme were my guardians after my parents died. That is, until Bilbo adopted me," I explain.

Aragorn nods, and I can see he's thankful I didn't explain exactly how we are related. He's heard enough of that from Merry and Pippin already.

Merry and Pippin are already waiting for us in the dining room when we enter, ready to start second breakfast, though I see evidence that Pippin has not been able to control his hunger succesfully.

"You couldn't wait, could you?" I whisper to him as we sit down around the table.

He shakes his head. "I was hungry, and you take forever to get here," he replies. "Now eat up before I eat the rest of it."

11 ~ What Happened Next

After elevenses Pippin and Sam sneak Aragorn out to the barn to visit his horse and our ponies, and Merry challenges me to a game of chess. Wanderer is curled up in my lap, watching every move we make as if he understands the game.

I am about to win when a knock sounds at the door. Merry leaps up to answer it. I sit still for a moment, knowing that I know the messenger standing in the doorway. Then it hits me and I rise slowly.

"Hullo Frodo," he says smiling at me. "Merry. I thought I'd never see you two again."

I smile as he steps in and Merry closes the door behind him. "Hello Gen. It's been a long time."

"I'll say!" our old friend Gen replies. "I've got good news for you."

"What?" Merry asks.

"Well, you see, Brend and I were staying at a nearby inn with a few other friends, and I'm sure you heard there was a brawl this morning?" he says.

"Yes, what does that have to do with us?" Merry questions.

"It started when Brend heard Lergie Bracegirdle talking about you, Frodo, and none of the seven of us there liked what we heard. You've heard the rumors he started?"

I nod and he continues. "Well, he was yelling and spluttering about it, and I could tell he was drunk. So Brend, who's a Shirrif, got up and placed him under room arrest for slander."

I stare for a moment, then say the only thing that comes to mind. "Brend is a Shirrif?"

Gen nods. "I know he swore he wouldn't, but, as he says, plans change."

"Well this is starting to look up," Merry states.

"Brend wants to talk to you at the inn," Gen says, looking at me for a moment.

At that instant Sam and Pippin walk through the door.

"Strider's in the barn, Frodo. He needed to wash his horse, so we decided to leave," Pippin says, stopping the moment he sees Gen. "Who're you?" he demands.

"Gen Brandybuck," Gen says. "I'm a friend of Frodo and Merry. Who are you?"

"Pippin Took. I'm their cousin," Pippin responds. "And this is Sam Gamgee," he adds, indicating Sam, who is standing beside me.

"Nice to meet you," he half bows from where he's standing, then turns to me. "Are you going yo come? Brend was insistant that you come soon. We've already wasted half the day talking to the witnesses."

"What's happened?" Sam asks, stroaking Wanderer's head.

"They've arrested Lergie Bracegirdle for slander," I answer, letting Wanderer climb onto his shoulder. I turn back to Gen. "Can my friends come as well?" I ask.

"I don't see why not," Gen replies.

I look at them. "They want me to come down to the inn and talk to the Shirrif." I smile at Merry who is grinning at the mention of our friend.

"All right then, let's go!" Pippin says.

* * *

We meet Brend and Uncle Paladin in the common room of the inn a few blocks away from where Rosie is staying.

Brend smiles at us. "Hello Frodo, Merry. How've you been getting along without me?"

"Alot better than we ever were with you," Merry replies sarcastically.

Brend grins. "All right, down to business," Brend says, leading the six of us towards a table in the corner. Once we're seated he turns to look at me and says, "Your uncle says he wants you to decide what his sentance is."

I look at Paladin questioningly, and he nods encouragingly.

"What is the usual sentance for this?" I ask.

"Usually a fine payed to the person, or banishment," Brend replies. "We haven't much need for the sentance since such a crime is very rare in the Shire."

"I have no need for more money," I say, thinking. "Perhaps banishment would be best. Then he will not be around to torment any one else."

Brend nods. "Sounds right to me."

"Well, now that's over with, let's have a drink!" Pippin says with a grin. Uncle Paladin rubs his face and rolls his eyes.

"All right," Brend says. "Find us a waiter." He turns to me. "Don't look so depressed Frodo. Nobody believed those rumors. They know you well enough to trust you. Besides, no hobbit born and raised in the Shire would ever think of doing such things."

I give him a half smile. "You're sure they don't believe him?"

"Absolutely! Trust me, I was back in Buckland when he passed through on his way here. He stayed a few nights there at an inn. They all said he was a tall-tale drunkard."

"No one here liked him much either," Gen added. "One hobbit I talked to said he was vulgar, and not worth talking to."

I relax a bit. "So," I say, looking at Brend. "Tell me your story. How did you become a Shirrif?"

Brend shrugs. "I joined up so I could go on the search parties for you," he says. "Then Sharkey and Lotho took over, and Gen and I and a few other folks rebelled. We ran off into the forest and stayed there nearly six months, doing all we could to tamper with the Ruffians plans. I used your crop raiding technique, Frodo. It kept us alive, believe it or not."

I smile. "Our rebel years actually paid off?"

"They did," he replies. "And the whole time we wished you were there, cause I was sure we were doing something wrong."

I laugh and see Sam smile across the table.

"So what about you, Frodo? We've heard some strange tales about what you were doing," Gen says, accepting the mug of ale offered him. "Was it true you went to Mordor? I don't know where that is, but it sounds frigtening, if half the tales are true."

"Yes, we did go there," I reply, keeping my right hand under the table. I remember the smell of Mordor even here, like burning sulfur, and suddenly feel almost suffocated. I remind myself that I am not there, I am home, and safe with my friends around me, and after a brief second I feel all right. Sam looks concerned.

"You all right, Frodo?" Brend asks.

I nod. "I'm fine," I reply.

He looks at me for a moment, then, as if sensing I want to change the subject, he says, "I visited old Farmer Maggot when I was back home a few weeks ago. My Da wanted me to get some mushrooms, the right way, of course. Farmer Maggot told me he saw you before you left the Shire."

"Yes," I reply. "Pippin, Sam and I were walking to Buckland cross-country, and ended up on his property by accident, and he invited us in for supper. I don't think he recognised me at first."

We sat and talked for almost an hour, then we decided it was time to leave.

Gen and Brend stand up and give Merry and I hugs.

"Do come visit sometime," Brend says. "Gen's got a wife and six children at home, but I'm sure he won't mind you stopping by if you can find his new hole. I still live in the same place."

"Perhaps we'll come the next time we're in Buckland," I say. "Farewell!"

12 ~ Luck at Last

"You see Frodo, we've got some more luck at last," Sam says with a smile as he helps me attempt to bathe my kitten that evening. "I didn't think any respectable hobbit would believe such things."

"Oh Sam, I wish I had your optimism," I reply, holding Wanderer's head and tail so he doesn't dash away.

"What are we going to do now that that's done with?" Sam asks, grabbing the bar of soap and lathering it on his hands before soaping Wanderer's fur. "Aragorn said he wanted to talk with you and your uncles."

"I was thinking I'd stay here for as long as I'm needed, until Aragorn goes home," I reply. "You can stay as well, if you like. Merry's going to stay."

"I think I will. But I need to get back to Hobbiton to see what's to be done about the plants and trees as soon as I can," Sam says.

"All right," I say, tightening my hold as Wanderer tries to wriggle away. "Oh, this cat is making me tired! I'm going straight to bed once he's clean!"

"And hope he stays in his bed tonight, not yours," Sam states.

I roll my eyes.

* * *

"Are you sure you're awake enough for this meeting, Frodo?" Uncle Sara teases me when I yawn for the third time in two minutes.

"Of course," I reply, sitting straighter in my chair. Uncle Paladin shakes his head.

Aragorn is sitting on the floor in front of us. "He seems to like yawning," he says. "He made the rest of us tired just by yawning all morning."

"At least then I had an excuse," I reply under my breath, just loud enough for him to hear.

"Back to the real reason of our meeting..." Aragorn says, looking pointedly at me. "I can inforce the ban from outside by setting Rangers along the borders of Buckland and the Shire. Any Man wishing to enter must have written permission from the Thain, the Master and the Mayor."

Uncle Paladin nods.

"This does not include elves and dwarves, does it? Only Men?" I ask.

"That is correct. To my knowledge Shire-folk have never had problems with them," Aragorn replies.

"I like it," Uncle Paladin says. "Sounds as if it will make the Shire a very safe place to live. That's just what we need. Are we in agreement?"

I nod and Uncle Sara says, "Yes." I sigh. Finally we've reached a verdict. And we spent since second breakfast discussing how commands and alerts would get from the Bounders to the Rangers. Politics are so very detailed.

We discuss a few other matters that concerned the Shire, then sign papers and so forth.

When we are through, I open the door just at the moment Sam was about to knock to bring us to elevenses.

"Oh Sam, I'm SO glad to see you. I was about to die of sheer boredom!" I say, sighing in relief that we're finally done.

"Stop acting so dramatic, Frodo," Uncle Sara says. "It isn't that bad. And you're pretty good at this."

I straighten up. "You think so?"

Uncle Paladin nods. "It's probably not as exciting as those adventures you used to talk about, but you could make a job of this."

Sam and I exchange glances. I'd rather be anywhere than on the Quest again.

"Well, elevenses is ready. Are you going to join us Strider?" Sam asks.

"Oh, no thank you. I shall go tend to my horse. But thank you anyways," Aragorn replies, then turns and walks out.

"For someone so big he doesn't eat much," Uncle Sara states, watching him leave.

* * *

Late in the afternoon I find Aragorn outside the stables in a grove of trees where no one would see him.

"Mind if I join you?" I ask.

He shakes his head. "Have a seat." He pats the ground beside him.

I sit and he turns to look at me. "You're still very thin, Frodo," he says, searching my face carefully.

I shrug. "I find that if I eat less, I have less of a chance of losing it later."

"Sam does not seem to have the same problem," Aragorn replies. "And his condition was even worse than yours."

"I don't understand it, Aragorn," I say.

"I think I do. But I don't like it."

"What?"

"Carrying the Ring might have had something to do with it," he says. "It made you weaker than Sam, even though you were both going through the same physical harm."

I nod. I know that all too well.

"Other than that, how are you getting on?" he asks.

"As well as can be expected, I suppose," I reply, watching the leaves on the ground. There is no snow here because of the trees over head, but it is still very cold. "Sam and Merry and Pippin are doing their best to make me happy, but..." I sigh. "I keep telling myself it will just take time, for everything to return to normal."

Aragorn nods. "And you're not sure you believe that?" he asks.

"Yes," I say, pulling my cloak closer around me.

"Sam tells me you are having trouble sleeping."

I nod. "Yes, but most of that is Wanderer's fault," I state, smiling mischevously.

Aragorn grins. "Cats can be difficult."

"Have you ever had one?" I ask.

"No, but Arwen wants one to help keep the mice out of the kitchens. She likes cats," he replies. "I prefer horses."

"Uncle Bilbo always had cats when I lived with him. Once his cat had kittens, and we had seven cats." I smile remembering it.

He looks at me for a moment. "It's good to see you smile, Frodo. Don't lose hope yet. It may just take more time."

"Yes, I know," I say as Aragorn pulls me into a hug.

"Now you'd better get inside before you freeze to death," he says jokingly.

I rise and obey my king.

13 ~ Home Again

Three days later we are on our way back home. Wanderer is secured in a crate tied to one of Strider's saddle bags, making a big fuss about it.

The ride back to Hobbiton is almost as quiet as the ride to the Smials. Alot has happened in the past week, and Sam and I are both deep in thought.

Merry and Pippin are riding a few paces behind us, singing a song Pippin learned in Gondor; something about a battle, and a drunk soldier beating an evil king in a duel. I am not really paying attention.

We reach the Cotton's farm be suppertime, and hurriedly unpack our things before joining them for the meal. Once again the long ride has made me extremely hungry, and Mrs. Cotton is a wonderful cook.

"Will you be staying the night Sam?" Mr. Cotton questions. "Or'll you go on up to yer Da's place?"

"I think I'll stay the night, if you don't mind," Sam replies. "It's getting late, and I wanted to talk to you about the planting."

"Well, we've plenty of seeds here, as does your Gaffer, so all you've gotta do is plant 'em now and hope they grow come spring," Mr. Cotton says.

I remain silent, listening intently. I keep waiting for Sam to think of the gift Galadriel gave him when we left Lothlorien, but he never mentions it.

They discuss what plants they have and where to place them, and what to do about crops for the coming year. Sam believes that by spring the Shire will be in bloom again and be as beautiful as it used to be. He believes it can be healed by his care and love. Perhaps that is all I need as well. Oh how I wish that were so!

A while after supper the Cottons head for bed, but the four of us stary in the parlor, staring at the burning embers of the fire.

Suddenly I see a light dawn in Sam's eyes. He rises and says, "I'll be right back." He runs out to where his saddle bags are sitting, by the front door and hurries back.

"I just remembered Lady Galadriel's gift! She said that it would help my garden if I sprinkle this there," he says, holding out the small box.

*"I wondered when you'd think of it," I say. "Open it!"*

Inside it is filled with grey dust, and a small silver seed. I have never seen anything like it in my life, and I wonder what plant the seed is from. Some sort of Elvish tree, I suppose.

*"What can I do with this?" Sam says.

"Throw it in the air on a breezy day, and let it do it's work!" says Pippin.

"On what?" says Sam.

"Choose one spot as a nursery and see what happens to the plants there," says Merry.*

I grin. My cousin's love to help, but they aren't very good at it. I already know what Sam has in mind for this gift of his.

*"But I'm sure the Lady would not like me to keep it all for my own garden, now so many folk have suffered," Sam says.

"Use all the wits and knowledge you have of your own, Sam," I say. "Then use the gift to help your work and better it. And use it sparingly. There's not much there and I expect every grain has a value."*

"Of course! But will this last over the whole Shire?" he asks.

"It's magic, of course it'll last!" Pippin exclaims.

"Use it wisely, dear. I'm sure you'll know how to work it through all the Shire," I add with a smile.

"Just don't use it all up in Hobbiton and not come help us poor Bucklanders," Merry commands. "We may not be in the Shire, but we need help too."

"If you say so, Mr. Merry," Sam replies. He glances back over at me. "You look tired."

I nod. "I am tired. Perhaps I should go to bed now." I rise, and the others follow suit.

"I guess we're all sleepy, cousin," Pippin says, grinning at me.

We quietly head for our bedrooms.

* * *

I glance at the clock above the mantle. It reads two in the morning. I haven't slept very well tonight, even though I am as tired as if I'd worked hard all day long.

The door to my room creaks open slowly, and I expect to see Wanderer leaping onto my bed, but instead I see Pippin enter my room, looking very young and frightened.

"Did you have a nightmare?" I ask as he climbs onto my bed.

He nods. "I didn't want to wake Merry. He's not been sleeping well and he was snoring. I knew you were already awake."

For a moment my thoughts are drawn back to when Pippin was little, and he always came to me when he had nightmares. Now I look at him, and it's hard to remember he's still only thirty. He seems so much older now.

"What was it this time?" I ask as he scoots closer to me. I wrap my arms around him.

"Trolls," he says. "Lot's of them."

I feel him shudder and say, "Don't you worry, Pip. I'm here. You have nothing to fear." The old words come back to me so easily, and I see him smile faintly. "Do you think you can fall back asleep now?" I ask.

"I hope so," he whispers. "It's getting better, though. I don't have so many nightmares anymore. Merry hardly has any."

"I'm glad Pippin," I reply. I love listening to my cousin talk. He is always so optimistic and innocent.

"Frodo?" he asks. "Can I ask you something?"

I look at him questioningly. "What?"

"Have you ever liked a lass?"

I think for a moment. "Well, when I was younger I did like this one girl, but nothing ever came of it," I reply.

"Oh," he says. "What happened?"

What had happened was that Uncle Bilbo had left, given me the Ring, and the lass had given up on me, claiming I was too distant.

"Frodo?" Pippin says.

"The Ring happened," I reply, knowing he'll understand.

He does. "I think I like a girl, Fro," he says. "I mean, really like her."

"That lass you were dancing with?" I question, smiling at him.

"Yes. Her name is Diamond, and she's from Long Cleave. I think she likes me too. What do I do?" he asks.

"You can't get married yet," I remind him. "But you could become friends and make sure you really like her and her family," I reply.

"Like Sam is doing? He and Rosie are really good friends." Pippin smiles.

"Yes," I say. "Like Sam. As a matter of fact, Merry is doing the same thing with Estella. Though he keeps telling me they're not getting married for along time."

Pippin yawns. "She's really nice and really pretty, Frodo."

I smile as his green eyes close and he falls asleep. I rest my head on his shoulder and drift of to sleep myself, hoping he won't break my bed because of his height.

A/N: The lines between the * are from The Return of the King - The Grey Havens. I changed the tences for the purpose of this story.

14 ~ Of Conspiracies and Kittens

Merry and Pippin are leaving for Buckland today. Sam has moved back in with the Gaffer in his new hole on New Row, formerly Bagshot Row, since the holes were done a few days ago. He will be home only a few more days, then he’s going to Buckland to start on the planting there.

To my surprise, Wanderer didn’t wake me up this morning, Pippin woke me by shaking my shoulder gently and saying that he’d eat all my breakfast if I didn’t get up. Wanderer was nowhere to be seen.

I looked everywhere for him, and now I am standing in the doorway to Rosie’s room. Apparently Wanderer likes her as much as he likes me, because he’s sitting on her dresser watching her fix her hair.

“Did you want your cat back, Mr. Frodo?” she asks me, turning around to look at me. “He snuck in here all by hisself and started playin’ with my hair ribbons.”

I smile. “If you want me to take him, I can,” I reply.

“Please do! He’s shredded my blue ribbons already.” She grins, trying not to laugh at the kitten.

I lift him off the dresser and stroke his fur. “Are you going to the winter party with Sam this Friday?” I ask. There’s been a party in Hobbiton every winter but last. Sam and I usually went with Bilbo until he left. Then we started taking Pippin, Merry and Freddy.

She nods, smiling. “Are you coming, Mr. Frodo?”

“Not this year,” I reply. “I have a lot of paperwork to file, and I want an evening alone. But you and Sam will have a wonderful time.

The whole Cotton family will be gone, so I will have the house to myself. Sometimes I miss the days when I lived in Bag End alone. So many people around all the time is sometimes more than I can handle. They tend to make me claustrophobic, even though I love them dearly. I felt the same way at Brandy Hall, so many years ago. 

I step out of Rosie’s room, cat in hand, and head back to Sam’s room, where Merry, Pippin and Sam are all sitting on the bed talking.

When I enter, their conversation stops abruptly, and Merry says, “Hullo, Frodo. Found your cat?”

I nod. “Why do I get the feeling that another conspiracy is being started behind my back?” I ask, glancing at each of them.

“I don’t know,” Pippin replies, looking quite innocent. “We were just talking.”

Wanderer leaps out of my arms and curls up next to Sam.

“We’ve got all our things packed and need to be heading out soon,” Merry informs me.

I wish they could stay. They’ve been living here at the Cotton’s with us since we came home, and have only been gone a few weeks at a time to rid one place or another of Ruffians, or to help in the restoration going on across the Shire.

Now they’ve both moved back to Crickhollow, at the house I bought there, since Pippin started having trouble walking, and Merry started having trouble sleeping. They seem to do better looking after each other.

Not only that, but I think the reason they aren’t going back to their parent’s smials is that they feel stifled, and restrained. Their parents don’t realize exactly how much they have grown up in the past few years.

“You will visit often?” I ask.

“Of course, Frodo! We’re not deserting you entirely,” Merry replies. “Don’t look so sad!”

I smile a little.

“And we’ll try not to ruin any of your furniture while we’re there,” Pippin says with a grin. 

I ruffle his curls and grin at him. “You do and I’ll have your head,” I state jokingly.

The three of them rise, Wanderer following suit, and we head out to help them put their things in Merry’s wagon.

“Reminds me of when you left for Bag End, only in reverse,” Merry says, coming up to me.

I hug him tightly and say, “We’ll meet again soon?”

“Of course,” Pippin says, standing beside me. “We’ll be over here all the time!”

Merry releases me, and Pippin hugs me.

“Easy, Pip, you’ll crush me!” I say. Pippin doesn’t realize exactly how much bigger he’s gotten.

Then they both hug Sam, and are on their way.

15 ~ Writing Plans

Despite the fact that I feel alone at the Cotton’s house now that my closest friends have all gone home, I am looking forward to having tonight to myself.

Sam is here, waiting for Rosie. The rest of their families have already headed out, but Rosie was still searching for matching hair ribbons when Sam showed up. It seems that my cat enjoys using them as play things. I promised her I’d buy her some new ones at the market on Monday.

For now, though, she’s been keeping them in a box, safe from prying claws.

We hear footsteps in the hall, and Rosie comes out, dressed in a beautiful creamy yellow gown, with a satin like gold sash. She had the dress made when my aunt gifted her with left over yellow fabric from Pippin’s sister’s dresses. Marigold had one made just like it. She’s also managed to find two matching yellow ribbons.

Sam rises, smiling. “You look beautiful, Rose,” he says.

She blushes, grinning back at him. “Why thank you, Sam.”

They look at me.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come, Mr. Frodo?” Rosie asks, looking concerned.

I nod. “I’ll be fine,” I reply.

“There’s plenty of food in the kitchen, if you get hungry,” Rosie says. “I baked a pound cake this morning, if you want it.”

“Thank you Rosie,” I say, smiling at her. “Now you go have fun!” I shoo them towards the door, quickly catching Wanderer before he dashes out with them.

They turn back at the gate and wave before going on down the road. I wave back.

Then I close the door, and lean against it, sighing. The house is completely silent. I love the sound of silence. It is very comforting after so long hearing that constant voice in my mind. I do not hear it much any more.

I go to my room, setting Wanderer on the floor, and drag a big black box out from under my bed. I open it and lift out a leather bound red book. I flip to the first empty page where a note is resting between the leaves.

I pull it out and read it again.

Here is your Yule present, my lad. I was awake to pick it out myself. I hope you like using quills, otherwise this ink will do you no good. Please use it to write your adventure in my book, after mine of course. Please hurry, lad. I want to hear it all!

Namarie,

You loving uncle,

B. Baggins

I smile at the way he lapsed into Sindarin halfway through the note. Then I pull out the four bottles of black ink he sent me for Yule, and my favorite quill pen.

Wanderer is watching me questioningly. He’s never seen my writing things before, or any writing things for that matter, as I always write while he’s wandering in the afternoons.

His big yellow eyes follow me as I take the things to my desk. Then I go back to the trunk and pull out an old pad of notepaper and my uncle’s notes.

Tonight, though, is different from my normal writing. I have finished Bilbo’s story, with Sam as my faithful reader and helper, and now I intend to start our story. I plan to write the whole thing, including Merry and Pippin’s journeys. I wish everyone to know what they did to protect the Shire.

I haven’t even told Sam what I’m going to do because I know he’ll say I don’t have to. But I do have to. If not for others to read, then to help me. I need to write it down.

I sit at the desk and let Wanderer lie in my lap as I pull the top off the crystal ink bottle, prepare my pen and blotting paper, and begin at the beginning of my tale: Bilbo’s birthday party.

The memories of the Party so long ago come back to me easily, and before I know it, I am nearly twelve pages into the story and at the end of Bilbo’s speech.

Wanderer has fallen asleep in my lap and the clock on the mantle reads ten-thirty. The Cotton’s won’t return for another hour.

I sit back and sigh. It’s started, now I must finish it. I wonder absently how long it will take me to write all of this, and I might need another book soon. There are many pages not written in yet, but it seems rather small to fit our whole story in.

Wanderer rises and yawns. I glance down at him. “What do you say about having some pound cake?” I ask, as he looks at me. He leaps off my lap and heads for the kitchen, and I follow him.

16 ~ The Sea

Sam and Rosie had a wonderful time at the party last night. I am at Sam’s hole today, to talk before he leaves for Buckland tomorrow for two weeks. Sam and I are sitting in the parlor, sipping mugs of tea.

“Are you planning on asking for her hand soon, Sam?” I ask when he finishes telling me about the events of the party.

“Soon,” Sam replies blushing and smiling. “Soon enough.”

I smile back. “We’ll you’d best hurry! You’ve waited too long to make her wait much longer,” I say.

“I know. It’s just not the right time yet, it seems,” Sam states.

I nod. “I understand.”

“What were you keeping busy with, Frodo? You seem quite…peaceful today,” Sam says, changing the subject.

“I was writing,” I reply, glancing down at my hands, and noticing an ink stain still on my palm.

“Writing what? I thought you’d finished Mr. Bilbo’s book by now.” He looks confused.

“I did,” I reply, pausing for a moment. Then I say, “I’ve started on ours.”

“Ours?”

“Yes. Sam, I have to, if only to just get it all out,” I say. “Whether anyone else ever reads it or not.”

Sam sits silently for a moment, then he nods. “I thought you would write something about it before long,” he says.

“You did?”

“Yes. But I didn’t think you’d take on the whole story. Thought it might be…” he pauses, and shrugs.

“Might be painful to remember?” I ask quietly.

He nods.

“It might. But I started it last night, and somehow it made me feel better. I want so badly to be better,” I say, clutching at my necklace.

“Well, if you think it’ll help, then I’ve no objections,” Sam replies, smiling at me. He rises from his seat to come sit by me. “You will be well again, dear,” he says, enveloping me in his arms. “I have no doubts you will.”

I lean on him and say, “Yes, I believe I shall.” But silently I wonder where and how long until it happens.

* * *

I hear the sea at night in my dreams. I have since my parents died. I heard it, and, at the time, I had wanted to leap into the Brandywine to be swept away to sea, never to be seen in Middle-earth again. But I didn’t then, and I shan’t now. I haven’t lost my regained hope yet.

I sit here by the Water, in a secluded grove, writing in my book, wondering how to continue. Perhaps it would be best to write the rest of this when Sam comes home. He left this morning.

I have already gotten through half of what Gandalf told me that day when he came with the news of the Ring. I marvel that I didn’t throw it to the wind when I still could have. But if I had done that… I don’t think anything would have turned out as well as it did, for everyone else. Everything good comes with sacrifice, it seems. And though I feel as though my sacrifice may turn out to be my life, I will not give up yet. I cannot give up yet.

17 ~ Good News

My nightmares return every time Sam leaves Hobbiton. Somehow my subconscious mind cannot get around the fact that he’s not close enough if I need him. I don’t really need him close by much anymore, not like I did in Mordor, or soon afterwards. I want him here, but I don’t really need him. Yet my mind at night in the dream realm tells me something may happen to me and Sam won’t be there to save me.

I find myself eating less as well, and I know Rosie notices, though she doesn’t tell Sam. She promised him to look after me while he is gone. My appetite isn’t fully returned yet, and I only eat more to make Sam feel better, but I don’t enjoy it.

Now I am laying awake in bed, wondering if I dare tackle the next part of our story alone. It’s been almost two weeks since I started it, and I’ve just now gotten to the Old Forest. Much of our time there is blurry to me. I remember the Barrow-wights quite clearly and…and Tom not disappearing when he put the Ring on. I remember Goldberry. I remember how kind she was to us, and how beautiful she was. But aside from that my memory is foggy.

Wanderer leaps on my bed and curls up on my chest, licking my nose before falling asleep. I smile. Maybe with Wanderer protecting me my nightmares won’t come tonight.

* * *

“You look as if you’d got a good night sleep, Mr. Frodo,” Rosie whispers to me at breakfast.

I smile at her, not saying anything as her twin brother Jolly comes to sit across from us.

“Morning, Mr. Frodo!” he says cheerfully as his mother starts setting food on the table.

“Good morning,” I say, catching Wanderer just before he leaps from one empty chair to the table. I stroke his head gently as the rest of the family enters for breakfast.

“There’s a letter for you, Mr. Frodo,” Mr. Cotton says, handing me one envelope out of his stack of papers. “Messenger came early this morning. Said this letter was important.”

I take the letter and tear it open, recognizing Merry’s handwriting on the front.

My dear cousin,

I’m writing to inform you that Sam is doing a marvelous job with the flowers out here. He’s done wonders with the Hall, made it look almost normal again! Oh, and Brend is getting married and wants you to come to the wedding. He invited Sam, too. It’s in a few days. Perhaps you could drag your worn and weary self over here for a few days to spend with us all before hand?

Love always,

Merry

I glance up at Mr. Cotton. “I’m leaving for Buckland today.”

“Is everything all right?” Mrs. Cotton asks.

“One of my old friends is getting married in a few days, and he wanted me to be there,” I reply.

She smiles. “Oh how lovely! And while you’re at it, you can check on Sam and see how he’s keepin’ with them Bucklanders.”

I grin. “I’m sure he’s doing just fine,” I assure her. “I’ll bring him back with me in a week.”

“Tell him we miss him,” Rosie says, smiling.

“I will, Rose,” I reply.

* * *

I mount Strider late this morning, my saddle bags full of the few things I’ll need. I have left Wanderer to Rosie’s care. I bought her a little jewelry box with a lock she was admiring at the Market to keep her hair ribbons in so Wanderer can’t get at them. I wave to her and my cat, then ride off.

18 ~ Memories

I arrive at Crickhollow just in time for dinner. Merry is at the door to greet me. I glance around, a bit nervous. The house doesn’t look damaged, but I can feel it. They were here.

“It’s not so bad inside,” Merry assures me, rubbing his arm absentmindedly. “But you don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to.”

“And miss out on your company?” I say with a small smile. “It’s only been two weeks and I miss you already.” My shoulder is beginning to feel cold.

Merry grins, tethering Strider to the front porch. Then he looks serious as he observes my pained expression. “It was really bad when we first moved here. Pippin couldn’t feel it, but I could.”

I put an arm around his shoulders and we walk inside to where Pippin and Sam are setting the table. The feeling of darkness is all but gone in here, and I feel more relaxed.

Pippin sees me and starts bouncing over to me. I am sure he is the reason it feels so different in here.

“Hullo Frodo!” he says. “You came just in time for dinner! Brend is really happy you’re coming. He’s nervous about getting married, but Violet is absolutely gorgeous, and I can tell they’re in love.”

I smile. “What smells so good?” I ask, glancing around at the food on the table.

“That is Sam’s first attempt to teach Pippin how to cook,” Merry says, coming up behind us as Sam sets a loaf of bread on the table.

“It looks edible,” I state, giving Pippin a surprised look.

“I did mention that Sam was helping him, didn’t I?” Merry adds.

“Ah, that’s the reason,” I say, ruffling up Pippin’s hair.

Pippin grins. “Just you wait ‘till I try it all by myself. Then you’ll both have to eat all of what I make,” he says impishly.

Sam looks scared. “I would run away if I were you, Frodo,” he says, stepping up to me.

“That would be the wisest decision,” I reply. I smile at Sam. “Rosie said to tell you she misses you.”

Merry and Pippin grin mischievously as Sam blushes.

“Come on, Sam, it’s nearly March. You’ve been home for almost four and a half months already, when are you going to ask her to marry you?” Pippin says impatiently.

“When I’m good and ready,” Sam replies, sending Pippin a look that silences him.

“Well, supper’s ready,” Merry says. “So let’s eat, and hope Pippin’s cooking is as good as it smells. Gen invited us over to see his family for supper. You’ll love his kids, Frodo, they’re absolutely wonderful!”

* * *

Gen’s wife, Heather, greets us at the door and ushers us in. She’s a very pretty hobbit, with long dark curls and stunning grey eyes. She appears quite a bit younger than Gen, but they are happy together with their three children, Lily, who’s seven, Ruby, who’s five, and Brend, who just turned two.

They are adorable children, and Brend reminds me of his father.

“Brend and I made a deal,” Gen explains to me. “I name my first son after him, and he’d name his first son after me.”

We head into the dining room as Heather sets supper on the table. Whatever she made smells good, though I am not really that hungry.

“It’s good to see you again, Frodo, for something other than business. How’ve you been?” Gen asks.

“Well enough,” I reply. “Signing and filing papers all day isn’t what I’d call enjoyable, but it keeps me busy. What about you?” I ask, making sure I take only very small portions of each food. Sam frowns at me, but I pretend not to notice.

“I’m the same as always. Traveling across the Shire with the Post,” Gen states. “I’m not gone as much as I used to, but I’m usually gone at least two days a week.”

“He ran into me on my way to Crickhollow, Frodo,” Sam tells me.

Gen nods. “I was very pleased to meet him. I’m glad you’ve got Sam for a friend, Frodo. He’s a good hobbit.”

Sam blushes, but says nothing.

Suddenly Heather looks at me, and says, “Pardon me if I sound forward, but I was wondering how old you are? Gen talks as though you were growing up together, but you don’t look old enough.”

“I’m 52,” I reply. “Same as Gen. Actually I’m nearly six months older than Gen.” I notice her expression change to wide-eyed surprise.

“I would never have guessed! I thought you were Merry’s age at the most,” she exclaims.

“Must have taken after your uncle Bilbo,” Gen says, looking at me with a strange expression. “He never seemed to age either.”

I nod absently. Taken after him in more than just looks.

Pippin glances at me, then says, “Why don’t you tell the children the story about the dwarves visiting Bilbo.”

I smile at him, thankful that he’s changed the subject.

Gen smiles. “That’s a great idea! You’re the best story teller I know,” he states.

Sam looks at me encouragingly, as Heather asks the children if they want to hear a story. They all say yes, so I begin to tell the tale of when Gandalf sent Thorin and his gang of dwarves to Bag End.

* * *

Uncle Sara and Aunt Esme are here today for luncheon. Pippin decided to let Sam make the meal today, even though his cooking last night wasn’t too bad.

We’ve already eaten, and they are sitting in the parlor with Merry and Pippin while I help Sam get the table cleared.

I hear Uncle Sara ask Merry something about the Quest and Sam pauses to listen.

“T’wasn’t all that bad, really,” Merry says.

“We always seemed to get new clothes,” Pippin adds. “At least I did in Gondor. But I was glad I didn’t lose my scarf on the way.”

They continue to talk about clothes on the Quest, and I pick up a glass pitcher. I freeze a moment later when I see a small black thing moving towards me on the table.

“Sam!” I yell, backing up and accidentally dropping the pitcher. It immediately crashes to a million pieces as Sam comes up to me, and Merry, Pippin, Aunt Esme and Uncle Sara dash into the room.

“It’s just a spider, Frodo,” Sam assures me as he grabs a napkin and squishes it. “There, now. Are you all right?”

I nod, though my knees are weak, and I am trying to breathe normally.

“Take him into the parlor,” Merry says. “Pip and I will clean this up.”

Uncle Sara and Aunt Esme follow us into the parlor where Sam and I sit down on the couch. I am trembling now and lean against Sam for support.

“I don’t know what’s come over me,” I say, steadying my voice. “I know it was only a spider, but…”

“It’s all right, dear. You’ve a right to be afraid of it if anyone does,” Sam replies.

“Why?” Aunt Esme questions. “What’s happened?”

Uncle Sara puts a hand on her arm as if to tell her, “Not now.”

“Sam?” I say, a sudden thought making my heart begin to pound again. “What if it bit me?”

“Doesn’t do no good to think of such things, Frodo,” he says, as I rest my head on his shoulder. “It didn’t happen. And you know that Merry, Pippin and I won’t let it happen if we can stop it.”

I smile and say, “Thank you Sam.” I pause for a moment, then say, “I feel so foolish. I should be able to take care of myself.”

Sam pulls me closer. “You’re not helpless Frodo. But things are different now, and you’ll need our help for a while yet if things are going to get better.”

I close my eyes and sigh.

“It’s like when your Mum and Da passed, and you needed Mr. Bilbo and me to help you.”

“Only this is worse, Sam,” I whisper, almost afraid to admit that, even to Sam.

“I know dear,” Sam replies, then is silent and just holds me for a while.

19 ~ The Night Before

The four of us enter the inn and join Gen, Brend and one other hobbit in their table in the corner. The place is fairly populated tonight, and there are many hobbits around singing and drinking their fill.

“Merry! Frodo!” Brend says, calling us over to his table. “Good to see you and your friends again!” he adds, saying hello to Sam and Pippin.

“Hullo again, Brend. Who’s your friend?” Merry asks, glancing at the new hobbit questioningly. I can tell from his look that he’s also examining how trustworthy he looks. Merry picked up that habit on the Quest and still hasn’t stopped using it.

“Tom Boffin. My cousin on my Da’s side,” Brend replies. “Tom, meet my friends, Gen’s distant cousins, Frodo Baggins, Merry Brandybuck, and Pippin Took. And their friend Sam Gamgee.”

We nod and bow to Tom, then take our seats. A moment later I realize that we’d greeted him Gondorian fashion without even knowing. Ah well, the Shire will have to get used to us eventually.

“You nervous, Brend?” Merry asks.

Brend nods. “I can’t wait, but I am a little scared,” he admits, taking a bite of his mushroom potpie.

“See Sam? He can’t wait. Maybe you should follow his example with Rosie,” Pippin states, nudging Sam with his elbow.

Sam blushes, but says nothing.

“He’ll get to it when he feels like it, Pip,” I remind him gently.

“It’s not as if she’ll go off with another hobbit while he’s got his back turned,” Merry says. We all know that Rosie always has and always will be madly in love with Sam.

“He’ll wish he hadn’t waited,” Gen says, smiling. He’s the only one here already married.

The conversation continues, but I am not really paying attention. My gaze falls on the plate of food before me. Everyone is eating, and nobody is watching me, so I discretely switch my plate with Pippin’s empty one, knowing he’ll eat it. He glances at me, then whispers, “Frodo, you’ve not even touched this!”

“I know,” I say. “I’m not all that hungry right now.”

“You haven’t eaten since luncheon. Sam will be upset if he finds out,” Pippin states, looking over at our friend deep in conversation with Gen.

“Oh, please don’t tell Sam!” I plead. “I don’t want him to be angry with me, but I really can’t eat that right now.”

“Well,” Pippin replies, looking at the plate questioningly. “I wouldn’t want it to go to waste…”

I smile at him, then turn to listen to the conversation Merry and Brend are having.

“So you wear your livery all the time?” Brend questions, examining the golden embroidery on Merry’s sleeve.

Merry shrugs. “Became a habit. Pip and I both wear the uniforms all the time now.”

I glance over at Pippin. I suppose I’ve gotten so used to seeing them in the uniforms of Rohan and Gondor that I’d forgotten to notice.

“They look rather comfortable,” Brend replies.

“They are! And all of Rohan and Gondor wear them. Well, the soldiers anyhow,” Pippin says, looking up from his food to interject in the conversation.

I reach for my mug of ale, and Brend falls silent, watching my hand. Too late I realize that I am using my right hand. I refrain from drawing it back and hiding it as Brend says, “So it’s true then. I’d heard you’d lost your finger, but wasn’t sure I could believe it.”

“I did,” I reply, looking down, not wanting to meet his gaze. I am unsure what to think about my finger still. On the one hand, losing it meant that I had failed and claimed the Ring. On the other, it also meant the Ring was destroyed.

“How did it happen?” Brend asks, interrupting my thoughts.

I shake my head. “Maybe some other time I’ll tell you,” I say. I am still not quite ready to explain it all. And not to someone who isn’t all that close to me. Once I’ve written it down perhaps the whole Shire will know.

“You’ve all met the King, haven’t you?” Tom asks, suddenly changing the subject.

The four of us nod.

“Is he a good man, or is he just like all those ruffians who came into the Shire?” he asks, glancing at each of us.

“Aragorn is not a ruffian,” I say firmly. “He is one of our closest friends. I would trust him with my life.”

This seems to surprise the other three, but Merry, Pippin and Sam nod. They would, and have, trusted Aragorn with their lives and mine on numerous occasions, and he has never let us down.

We talk about Aragorn for a while, and my thoughts are drawn back to our time in Minas Tirith. We stayed there nearly a year, and enjoyed the chance to spend more time with Aragorn, even though he was still very busy.

Then finally Brend says, “Enough talk. Let’s have a song!” He glances over at Merry and Pippin.

Pippin grins and grabs his ale mug. “What shall we sing?” he asks, excitedly.

“Sing us something of Gondor,” Gen suggests, and Merry and Pippin proceed to leap onto the table and sing a hearty drinking ballad of Gondor.

Sam scoots over to where Pippin was sitting, and takes my hand under the table.

“They’re good at distracting me,” I whisper to him as he squeezes my hand.

“Why would they do that?” Sam asks, acting innocent. He turns serious a moment later, saying, “They don’t like you being so gloomy all the time. Anything they do to make you smile is worth it.”

I grip his hand tightly. It is becoming increasingly harder for me to find things to smile about. Just as it is getting harder for me to find reasons to crawl out of bed in the morning. I will try to hold out as long as I can, but it has only been a year since the Ring was destroyed and I already feel my hope ebbing away slowly.

I shake my head and try to focus on the song Brend and Merry are now singing, a song Bilbo made up for Merry and I when we were younger. I see Pippin looking at me worriedly, and give him an extra smile for his efforts. Maybe I can try not to be so gloomy.

* * *

Sam and I stumble back to Crickhollow under the weight of two very drunk hobbits. Brend and Gen offered to help us, but they are about as drunk as my beloved cousins, and I respectfully turned down their offer. After we get them to bed, Sam and I sit in the kitchen sipping mugs of tea.

“Does it bother you that they ask what happened?” Sam asks, lifting my hand and massaging the place where my finger should be like Aragorn taught him. It is supposed to help with phantom pains, but it only helps a little.

I nod. “I don’t know what to tell them, Sam. I feel so ashamed of it,” I reply.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Frodo. I’m not sure what to make of it myself,” he says. “But you don’t have to tell them if you don’t feel comfortable.”

I look up at him. “Do you think I failed, Sam? I didn’t mean to, I just couldn’t do anything else,” I say, looking away again.

Sam makes me look into his eyes. “Now, don’t you be thinking that, dearest. You didn’t fail, you did exactly what you told Mr. Elrond you would do, to the letter.”

I smile a little at him. At least one of us believes that.

“Now, you’d best get off to bed,” he tells me.

I rise, and hug my friend. “Thank you Sam,” I say, then turn and head for my room.

A/N: You are all cordially invited to Brend and Violet’s wedding. Enjoy! And be sure to congratulate the happy couple. (And give Frodo an extra hug, he’ll need it)

20 ~ The Wedding

Today is the day of the wedding. It is being held in a beautiful field by the Brandywine. The flowers are just starting to bloom, even though it is still late February, and the sun is shining and warm for the first time this year. Brend looks excited as a child at Yule as he comes up to us before the ceremony, all traces of his earlier inebriation gone.

“First Gen, now me,” he says. “When are you going to find a lass and settle down, Frodo?”

I shake my head. “I shall never marry,” I reply.

“What? The one hobbit who could have almost any girl in the Shire not marry?” he exclaims. “Why not?”

“I can’t,” I say simply. Suddenly I feel so empty. I have nothing left to offer a wife. I used to believe I would marry and have many children to fill Bag End. Now I don’t even want to. I just can’t.

Brend looks at me questioningly, but doesn’t press the matter. “Well,” he says, smiling again, and putting it behind him. “I do believe I must go get ready. I shall see you later!”

He pats Merry on the back, and squeezes my right shoulder. I force a smile in his direction.

“He knows something isn’t right with you, Fro,” Merry states, pulling my sleeve to make me move back with him, letting Sam and Pippin walk on alone. “He’s worried about you.” Merry gazes at me with his piercing grey-blue eyes. “He doesn’t understand what’s happened to you, and I’m not sure I do either.”

I meet his gaze for a moment, then look away, feeling ashamed. He forces my chin up, and says, “We’re here for you, cousin.”

“I’m sorry, Mer,” I say. “Today should be happy.”

“I hope it is, Frodo my lad. And not just for Brend,” Merry replies with a smile.

* * *

We sit near the front and watch as the ceremony commences. Brend is standing near the front under the trellis of purple wisteria flowers, with Gen beside him, and the officiator in the middle. The crowd rises as Violet comes down the aisle, and stands beside Brend.

Violet looks radiant as she smiles up at Brend. She’s waited this long to get married, and has finally found the perfect hobbit for her, and I can tell she’s overjoyed.

After a short speech, the officiator has them sign the marriage certificate that will be filed in Brandy Hall, where Uncle Sara keeps them. Then he turns to the crowd, pronounces them husband and wife, and says, “You may kiss your bride.”

Brend pulls Violet close and kisses her for the very first time. Next to me, Merry and Pippin sigh jokingly, and Sam elbows Merry in the ribs. I smile. As long as my friends are happy, today shall be a happy one.

 * * *

Brend introduces us to Violet afterwards at the feast. She is a charming, sweet girl, with just enough spirit to be able to keep Brend in line.

The meal we spend with Gen and his family, though I haven’t eaten much of it. I do not feel hungry right now.

Before I know it, I have been talked into a retelling of another of Bilbo’s adventures for Gen’s children, and I pull the youngest girl, Ruby, into my lap as the others sit around, intrigued by the tale of the three trolls until it is time to leave.

* * *

I am lying in one of the guest bedrooms late at night in Crickhollow. I can’t sleep. I don’t want to stay awake. I dozed off earlier, but awoke when I found myself dreaming of the sea.

I don’t want to think that leaving Middle-earth is an option. I don’t want to go. I haven’t even told Sam that it is open to me, and to him, should I choose to leave.

I try to think of something else, and my thoughts drift slowly to our story. I have brought it with me, and have let Sam read what I’ve written so far. I have surprised myself at how easy it has been for me, so far, to write so impersonally about the Ring, as if it didn’t really matter to me what its fate was, or that it even existed.

I feel a wave of fear rush down my spine, and I rise and quickly head across the hall to Sam’s room before it overcomes me.

Sam rises on his elbow as I enter. “You can’t sleep either?” he asks.

I shake my head.

“What’s wrong, dear?” Sam asks, sitting up and making room for me on the bed by him.

“My thoughts were running away with me and I just needed company,” I reply. “What’s your excuse?”

Sam blushes in the dim light, then after a moment he says, “T’was a bad dream.”

“What about?” I ask gently.

He shudders. “Mordor. And you. And Gollum.” He shudders again. I pull him close and we wrap our arms around each other.

“You never told me you had nightmares as well, Sam,” I chide him gently.

“I didn’t want you to worry,” Sam replies as I wipe a tear away from his face.

Suddenly I laugh. “Oh, Sam!” I exclaim. “And here I thought you were the only one of us immune to nightmares! You should have told me. I wouldn’t worry, I’d try to help you.”

He buries his head in my shoulder, and for an instant I get a picture in my mind of us as children, me at 21, and him at 9, and I am comforting him during a thunder storm that is frightening me just as much. But then the vision passes, and I am brought back to reality.

“You want to tell me about it?” I ask.

Sam shakes his head. “I’m all right, now.”

“All right. But you will tell me next time?” I say.

“Yes I will.”

I hug him closer. “Good.”

I feel as though now I can repay Sam a little for all that he’s done for me, even though this is only a little thing.

A moment later I realize Sam has fallen asleep in my arms.

21 ~ Iluvitar

This morning I awake to find Sam still in my arms, his head on my shoulder. He is playing absentmindedly with the buttons on his nightshirt, one Rosie made for him before we left.

Suddenly it hits me. “You don’t want to marry Rosie yet because of your nightmares, is that it?” I ask quietly.

Sam looks up at me. “I didn’t know you were awake,” he says, avoiding my question.

“I am. Answer my question, Sam-lad,” I order him, straightening a flyaway curl on his head.

He nods. “I don’t want to frighten her if I start yellin’ in my sleep. My gaffer says I do.”

“Rosie won’t mind. She loves you, Sam. You know that,” I say.

“I want to wait a little longer yet. Mr. Merry told me his nightmares are getting better, and I was thinking that maybe if I have someone to talk about them with, mine might go away too,” Sam tells me.

“I’ll be here if you need me,” I reply.

He looks up at me, and smiles. “Thank you,” he says.

I hear his stomach rumble, and grin. “I think it’s about time for breakfast.”

* * *

“My Da wanted to see you today, Fro,” Merry tells me at breakfast. “Said he wanted to talk to you about something. He invited you over after second breakfast.”

“Is it urgent?” I ask. Most hobbits don’t have company before elevensies.

“No, but he said he misses talking to you and that he would be busy all afternoon. That was a good time for him, since you aren’t busy,” Merry replies.

After second breakfast I mount Strider and ride over to Brandy Hall.

Uncle Sara’s apartment is hardly changed since I was last there, nearly two years ago. I can see almost unnoticeable differences outside the hall where plants had obviously been destroyed and Sam had lovingly replanted them.

Aunt Esme greets me at the door with a hug. “Hullo, Frodo. How are you?” she asked.

“Well enough,” I reply. “And you?”

“Good. Your uncle is waiting in the parlor for you,” she says, nodding towards the hallway.

I enter the parlor slowly, unsure of what Uncle Sara wants to talk to me about. The last time he wanted to talk to me he told me of Lergie Bracegirdle.

“Hello, Frodo-lad! How are you today?” Uncle Sara asks, rising from his chair to give me a hug.

“I’m all right,” I reply. “You?”

“Fine, fine!” he says.

He asks me a few more questions about life in general, then his expression turns serious and he says, “Frodo, I’m going to be blunt with you. Something is wrong, I know there’s something wrong. I’ve talked with Merry, and, though not hesitant to speak of his own experiences out of the Shire, he is unwilling to say much of you.”

I nod, already uncomfortable with where this is headed.

“I may be the only hobbit in the Shire who is curious about what happened to you, but then again, Esme and I are your closest relatives who don’t know,” he continues. “What did happen to you, Frodo?”

I look down at my hands, wondering why all of the sudden they’re curious.

“Your accident the other day was quite unusual,” he says. So that’s it. “You’ve never been squeamish about spiders before.”

I sigh, preparing myself to say… something. Finally I begin. “In Mordor,” I start, “Sam and I were attacked by a giant spider.”

Uncle Sara’s eyes grow large.

“It bit me, poisoned me,” I continue. “I thought I was going to die…” I leave off, feeling my body trembling.

Uncle Sara comes to sit beside me and puts an arm around my shoulders. “Why did you go to Mordor?” he asks gently.

“I had to. No one else could,” I reply. “I had to…” Memories I have been trying so hard to forget come back to me in a rush.

“Had to what?”

“I had to destroy Sauron’s weapon in Mount Doom,” I say quietly. I see the Ring again in my mind, and at once I long for it and hate it with all of my being. I feel tears in my eyes, and find myself sobbing uncontrollably in my uncle’s arms.

He rubs my back gently, comforting me as he did many years ago when my parents died. Only this time I am sure the pain will not leave me for a very long time, if at all.

This time Uncle Sara does not understand, and I doubt any one will ever truly understands what that thing did to me, how it stole my very soul.

A moment later I am a bit calmer, and I sit upright. “I’m sorry, Uncle,” I say softly.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” he says, straightening my curls. “You’ve been very brave, Frodo, and I’m proud of you.”

“Really?” I ask. I wonder if he’d still be proud of me if he hears what I’ve done.

“Yes, really.” He smiles at me, then says, “As long as you’re here, will you stay for elevenses?”

* * *

During elevenses a messenger comes in bearing a letter and a package for me.

“Said ‘twas special, an’ important, and that I should bring it straight to you,” he tells me, bowing before he leaves.

I glance at the address, not recognizing the handwriting of the beautiful elvish script, but seeing that it is from Rivendell. I rip it open and find that it is from Queen Arwen.

Dearest Iorhael,

I pray this letter finds you well. You have been on my mind much lately, especially since Aragorn and I have seen your uncle, visiting here in Imladris. I know nothing can be changed or erased from what happened to you, but I have found these writings of your uncles in the library, and he suggested I send them to you. They are more of his translations from Elvish to Westeron, part he hadn’t sent you, I assume, to read for himself. The pages are well worn, but I’m sure you won’t find that a problem. Bilbo wishes, as I do, for you to know the love and mercy of your Creator, and this book contains many of the Elves writings on Him. I hope you will take them to heart, as Bilbo has. You are not alone, dearest. You will always be loved by Iluvitar .

May the mercy and grace of Iluvitar and my sincere prayers be with you,

Arwen

I open the box carefully and pull out the book. I have heard of Iluvitar, more often as Eru, though. I know who he is, but I do not truly know him.

Uncle Sara looks at me a moment. “Who is it from?” he asks, curious.

“Queen Arwen,” I reply, fingering the binding of the well read book with Bilbo’s name penned on the front leaf, marking it as his copy.

I open to the first page and read silently.

* “In the beginning was Eru, the One…” *

I glance over the rest of the text, then close the book and set it back with the letter in the box.

“The Queen sent you a book?” Aunt Esme asks, glancing up from her plate.

“Yes,” I answer, putting the box on the floor underneath my seat.

Somehow it comforts me to know Arwen is praying to Iluvitar on my behalf. I wonder if it will do any good after all that’s been done to me.

A/N: The quote in * is from the Silmarillion.

22~ The Thirteenth

It is now March, and I am beginning to fear what might happen in the up coming weeks. March. It has almost been one whole year since the attack by Shelob and since the destruction of the Ring. My mind wanders back to October sixth, how the pain in my shoulder returned, and the evil visions that had assailed me that day. I wonder, shall it be the same on the thirteenth? And what of the twenty-fifth?

Sam will be gone the week of the thirteenth. I am scared of facing whatever may come alone, but glad that he will not be here to see whatever happens to me, whether it be returning illness or unpleasant dreams. Sam has been gone a lot lately, working on other parts of the Shire. He is almost done, and soon will not have to be gone so much. He says that he’ll move in with me once Bag End is finished so I won’t be lonely.

I know Rosie is concerned about me. She’s noticed that I tend to lock myself in my room now to write in the afternoons, and that I’ve declined more than one recent party invitation.

“I hope you don’t mind, Mr. Frodo, but you’re like another brother to me, a very special one, mind,” she says. “I know somethin’s wrong. I just want you to know I’m here if you need somethin’.”
 

I smile, remembering the mothering gaze in her eyes. She’ll be a wonderful wife and mother to Sam and their future little ones. For a brief moment I wonder if I shall be alive to see them all, but I push the thought from my head, and turn back to my writing.

* * *

No one knows what is happening to me. They know I am ill, but they don’t understand why. My body aches, a feeling I remember clearly from when the spider’s poison spread, paralyzing my mind and body.

I remain in my room, though I did attempt to get dressed this morning. But doing much else is futile, and I lay back down on my bed, praying this will end quickly.

I close my eyes. Visions of orcs and giant spiders fill my mind. I hear their voices again, evil and cruel. I see their whips and feel their rough hands pawing me for my things, stripping me of everything I own.

I shriek in terror and one of them takes his whip, cracking the butt of it across my shoulders. I cry out in pain, clutching my wounded shoulder, and he laughs as though it was funny.

My eyes are wide open now, though they do not see anything real. I see another orc grab at my elven cloak, ripping a hole in it, and one of his companions grins evilly, saying, “Where’s yer elf friend now, little rat?”

I shudder and sigh, reaching for the chain about my neck.

Sam is gone.

The Ring is gone.

I am alone doomed to die at the hands of these hideous creatures.

* It is gone forever, and now all is dark and empty.

I cling tightly to the jewel around my neck and the pain subsides a little. I wish Sam was here. He could save me from this. Slowly I begin to remember what Arwen mentioned to me in her letter, and I realize that there is someone by me at all times, One who can save me even when my dearest friend cannot. He is always there.

Not sure what to do, I find myself praying to Iluvitar for strength and courage to continue, and for peace. I sense some relief almost instantly, though the pain in my body remains. The visions disappear and I feel as though I am being held in someone’s arms, comforted and protected, giving me the will to go on.

Wanderer enters the room, and sensing that something isn’t right, he lays down beside me, not begging for attention, or clamoring for food.

I hear someone at the door, and look up to see Rosie standing there, leaning against the doorframe.

“Are you all right, Mr. Frodo?” she asks, looking concerned.

“I will be,” I reply. “Thank you.”

She comes closer and lays a hand on my forehead. “I think you’ve got a fever, Mr. Frodo.” Quickly she pulls the comforter of my bed out from under me and lays it over me. “Do you want to take something for it?” she questions.

I shake my head. I’ve had enough of medicines from Aragorn. “No thank you, Rosie. I’ll be fine by tomorrow.”

She nods. “As you wish.” She turns and leaves, and again I am alone, save for the purring cat by my side and the unending love of my Creator surrounding me.

* * *

Merry and Pippin came to visit today. They told me that they’d seen Sam in Michel Delving and he’d asked them to stop by and visit me. I don’t mention my illness the day before, but they know something happened.

“Gen’s wife is having another baby, Frodo,” Merry informs me as we sit down for elevenses. “Gen told us a few days ago, and I was going to write you but we ended up coming out here.”

“How many children do they want?” I ask. Gen seems so grown up now. He was the youngest of the three of us, Brend was only a few weeks older than I.

“A lot,” Pippin answers. “Gen wants at least seven. But Heather wants more.”

“More than seven children!” I exclaim. “Isn’t that a lot?”

“Quite a lot,” Merry says, nodding. “Though Sam told me that Rosie told him she wants at least twelve.” That much I’d known as she’d told me herself once. I hadn’t thought she was serious.

They stay and talk with me all afternoon, and every once in a while, one of Rosie’s brothers would join us for a moment or two. But before long they say they have to leave, as they wanted to get to the Took Smials by nightfall.

They both hug me close and kiss my forehead, and I return the gesture. “We love you, Frodo,” they say, and turn to leave. 

I wish they didn’t have to go, but they have business to attend to. I watch as they head down the path, and mount their ponies. They wave at me, then ride off into the distance.

I turn and go back to my room. I flop down on my bed and sigh. They only ever stay a few hours anymore, and, even though there are always other hobbits around, I can’t help but feel lonely without them and Sam here.

My thoughts turn to my uncle. I miss him so much, and in a split second I realize that when he leaves Middle-earth, I shall never see him again. Unless… unless I go with him.

I shake my head and sit up suddenly. Wanderer leaps onto my bed and settles himself in my lap, looking up at me as if to tell me he won’t leave me.

A/N: the quote in the * is from The Return of the King, The Grey Havens.

23~ Despair

Sam is coming home today. He wrote a few days ago and said he might be longer than expected, but I have a feeling he is on his way home at this very moment.

I awoke this morning feeling strange. I knew I wasn’t sick, it didn’t feel like that. I felt a heaviness and darkness on my soul. I did not, at the moment, recall the date, but I knew soon after what was wrong without looking at a calendar.

My hand would stray unwittingly towards the chain around my neck, and at the last moment, I would pull away, knowing that what my hand and my soul sought was no longer there.

My mind seems to play tricks on me. I know it is gone, but I keep haring it’s whisperings, feeling it’s pull on me until I think I shall go mad.

I stick to my room today. I don’t think I’ve eaten since supper last night, and it’s already nearly time for afternoon tea. My stomach is growling, but I do not desire to eat, I desire something I can no longer have, and I hate myself for it.

Shall I never be rid of it? I wish desperately to go back to the way I was before I even heard of the Ring, but that is impossible. My wounds are too deep, the scars too permanent.

I pray that Sam gets here soon. I long to throw myself into the arms of someone who understands, at least a little bit, and cry until I fall asleep. The feeling is so acute that it almost hurts physically.

I lie on my bed not moving, and feel Wanderer crawl up by my good shoulder. He knows something is wrong today as well, and is just content to sit by me, comforting me by his presence.

I hear the door open and click shut, and I sit up, hoping Sam won’t notice the state I’m in. He has enough to worry about already. But my hope is not granted. He comes to my doorway and stands there a moment, his eyes meeting mine, then he comes to sit beside me and wraps me in his arms. I notice that he hasn’t even taken off his cloak yet.

“Are you all right, dear?” he asks, wiping a lone tear from my face.

I shake my head and close my eyes, leaning against him. I lay in his arms, wishing he could fix everything for me just by holding me close, but he can’t.

Once again I feel my hand stray to my neck, but this time Sam grabs it, and kisses it, then lays it back in my lap. Gently he removes the jewel Arwen gave me from my neck and wraps my maimed hand about it. The heaviness on my heart recedes a little.

“Mrs. Cotton has tea ready,” Sam says a moment later. He doesn’t ask if I’ve eaten. Rosie probably told him I haven’t. “Do you want to eat something?” He looks as though he is going to stand up, and I grab his coat and shake my head.

He watches me carefully as I bury my face in his shirt. “What’s wrong, dear?” he questions when he realizes distracting me won’t work.

“It’s not working, Sam,” I whisper. “I’m not getting better.”

He strokes my hair gently and says, “What do you mean?”

“I’ve been thinking about it all day,” I admit after a moment of silence. “I’ve tried not to, but I can’t help it.” I look down at my hand, gripping the jewel tightly. At the sight of my missing finger, I am once again overwhelmed by the guilt that’s been threatening to drown me all day. “I’m sorry Sam,” I say, bursting into tears. “I’m sorry.”

He holds me closer to him and says, “You needn’t apologize.”

I fall asleep in his arms a few moments later, and awake late in the night only remembering him saying, “I love you, Frodo,” before falling into darkness.

I feel his arms still around me, and I move closer to him, like a frightened child seeking refuge in a siblings embrace. He is still wearing his traveling clothes, though he took off his coat and his cloak.

I look up at him, and he smiles at me. “Are you feeling any better?” he asks, the smile fading.

I shake my head. I truly don’t, and I don’t know if I ever will. “I’m all alone,” I say softly.

Sam gives me a surprised look. 

“Please don’t leave me, Sam,” I beg, tears coming to my eyes again.

His arms tighten around me. I’m trembling now, and I’m not sure why.

“Now what gave you that idea?” he asks.

I shake my head and look away for a moment. He directs my eyes back to his. “I won’t ever leave you, Frodo. I may be gone for a little while, but I won’t leave you,” he explains. “You’re like my brother, I’d never desert you.”

I smile a little, and after a moment fall asleep again.

I find it unsettling that even in my guardian’s embrace I am still afraid; afraid of the darkness; afraid of the Ring; afraid he’ll leave, and afraid of myself. I fear that there is no escape in Middle-earth for me.

A/N: This chapter is dedicated to Arwen of Lorien. You asked for a happy moment for Frodo, so here it is! Enjoy dear!

24 ~ A Not-So-Expected Party

Once again my cousins have succeeded in distracting me a little from my woes. I am glad of it, too, as I’ve been feeling a little guilty of making them worry, and of what appears to me to be self-pity. I was not the only one who suffered on the Quest. Many times in the past few days, Sam has come to me with his nightmares.

But this distraction is different. We’ve planned a surprise birthday party for Sam in the 6^th of April, his birthday, in the party field where his beautiful seed has sprouted into a tall, stately Mallorn tree reminiscent of the ones in Lothlorien.

Once the darkness I felt on the twenty-fifth diminished, I was able to get up just enough excitement to help plan the party, since Merry and Pippin counted on me, as Sam’s best friend, to know what he’d want.

It took a whole other day for me to recover, as that coupled with my illness the week before left me feeling tired and weak. I realize that more has changed that I had originally thought.

* * *

“Careful Sam,” I say as he trips over a stone and almost falls on me. “I’m not strong enough to hold you up, dearest.” At least I know the blindfold is effective.

He grins, glad to see I can joke around a little. “Sorry, Frodo. I just can’t see where I’m going.”

“You’re going east, I believe, if that helps any,” I reply. “As straight as possible.”

He shakes his head. “That doesn’t help.”

I smile. Sam never really liked directions, though he knows them now whether he cares to or not. I lead him to the party field where all of our close friends and Sam’s family is waiting, and I remove the blindfold.

Everyone cheers “Happy Birthday!”

“You didn’t…” Sam begins, his face turning red. I knew he’d never agree to a party if I’d asked him, but now he can’t back out.

“Blame Pippin,” I whisper. “It was his idea to do a surprise party.”

Sam hesitates for a moment, looking as if he’s wondering whether he should kill Pippin or thank him, then I push him forward to where Rosie is waiting by the set up dance floor.

Pippin had called up a few cousins who could play his favorite instruments to be the band for the day and they play beautifully as the few couples dance. The cheerful music seems to lift my spirits a little and I smile as I watch the dancers.

I notice my cousin Pervinca out there dancing with a strange hobbit I haven’t met yet. I walk over to question Pippin about it.

“Oh, that’s one of Merimas Brandybuck’s relatives. His name is Corin. I believe he’s Merimas’ third cousin twice removed on his father’s side and his fifth cousin once removed on his mother’s,” Pippin explains, handing me a mug of ale.

I wave my hand, lost at third cousin. I never liked genealogies very much. I know it’s very un-hobbity of me, but while I find them boring when compared to the exciting tales in the history of Middle-earth.

“He’s really nice, though,” Pippin is continuing. “He’s started courting Pervinca and they may get married later next fall, if Da approves.”

I nod, still watching the dancers. I hadn’t realized she was now old enough to get married.

“Frodo, is Marigold all right?” Pippin asks me, watching Sam’s youngest sister standing all alone on the edge of the dance floor. She looks kind of sad, and I know why.

Rose’s brother Tom has gone to Michel Delving to buy farm supplies and Marigold has no one to dance with. They are planning on getting married around the same time as Rosie and Sam, as soon as Sam makes up his mind to ask her.

I step up beside Marigold and bow.

“Hello, Mr. Frodo,” she says, smiling gently at me.

“Hello, Marigold. I was wondering if you’d like to dance?” I ask, extending my hand to her as a wider smile lights up her face.

“I’d love to, Mr. Frodo,” she replies, then adds, “though I dare say my sisters’ll be right envious.”

We glance over to where Daisy and May are standing, helping Mrs. Cotton and Pearl prepare food for luncheon, and laugh at their indignant looks. Then we step onto he dance floor.

I find myself actually enjoying the next few hours, not only dancing with Marigold, but with Rosie and my cousins Pimpernel, and Pervinca.

At luncheon I sit with Sam and his Gaffer and the conversation never strayed far from gardening, and I could see that Sam and I were both glad of that. He seems to be enjoying himself today as well.

I begin to wonder if Sam has decided to ask Rosie to marry him yet. His nightmares are less frequent now, and not quite as frightening. I wish I could say the same of mine, but ever since the thirteenth they’ve been worse, whether Sam is gone or not.

After luncheon we play games that I’ve not played since we left the Shire. They are fun games such as Capture the Flag, and Blindhobbit’s Bluff; games we played as children. I am sure the children here find it funny to see all of us grown-ups playing their games.

It seems that today of all days a renewed vigor has come upon me, and I am thankful for it, hoping that it will last a very long time. There is something about this day that has a healing quality to it. I remember back to my parent’s accident. I was just turning twelve and they had died only two months before. The pain of their passing had not left me for a long time, but on this day I felt, as I feel now, that something wonderful had taken place and that I, of all people could not be sad. I never realized till afterwards what exactly had occurred that day.

I am watching now as Sam blows out the candles on his birthday cake, wondering now if it was only chance that he was born the year my parents died. That cannot be so.

“What did you wish for, Sam?” I ask him, as I did every year when we were young.

“You’ll know if it happens,” he replies with the same gleam in his eyes. Only this time, the smile makes way for a look of pure joy and happiness instead of his old mischievous grin. He points up at the Mallorn tree to where three lone white flowers have bloomed. His love and hard work have paid off with the tree. I feel a gleam of hope returning to me.

He hugs me tight and I laugh with pleasure, then push away to accept the piece of lemon cake Rosie hands.

“I do hope your wish comes true, dearest,” I say, leaning back in my chair to gaze up at the beautiful little blossoms.

* * *

I wake this morning to see Sam sitting beside me on the edge of the bed. “How’d you sleep, dear?” he asks, smiling at me.

”Quite well,” I reply. “Did you have to fight Wanderer to be the one to wake me up?” I look down at my cat, rubbing himself against Sam’s leg, purring loudly.

“He gave up when I gave him something to eat,” Sam says. “Now, get up and get dressed and meet me in the kitchen in ten minutes. There’s something I want to show you. I haven’t given you my birthday present yet.”

I look at him questioningly, but he gives me no further explanation. He stands, kisses my forehead, then leaves.

25 ~ Home

“Where are you taking me?” I ask as Sam leads me along blindfolded down the path.

“To my birthday present for you,” Sam replies.

“This is payback for yesterday, isn’t it?” I ask, gripping his arm tightly so as not to stumble on the rocky path. He only laughs.

“Sam, we’d better get there quickly because I’m beginning to feel a bit claustrophobic in here,” I say.

We stop abruptly after climbing four or five winding stairs.

“We’re there,” he says.

“Shouldn’t we make him wait just a little longer?” I hear Pippin’s voice. “He looks so funny with that blindfold on.”

I hear Merry laugh and say, “He’s been waiting long enough, Pip. Are you ready, Frodo?”

“Of course he’s ready,” Sam exclaims, putting his hands on my shoulders. I feel someone untie the blindfold and I find myself standing in front of the open door of Bag End. I’ve seen the outside, and knew that it had been fixed, but no one ever allowed me inside. I had been sure that it would take till at least June to be finished, since Sam has been so busy lately.

“Go on in, dearest,” Sam whispers in my ear.

I glance at Merry and Pippin, standing on my left, smiling at me encouragingly, and step into my hole.

I look around the entryway and down the hall for a moment, before breathing deep and entering further. It smells of paint and wood smoke from the fire on the hearth. The walls have been scrubbed and painted and the woodwork and tile on the walls and floor have been fixed or replaced where needed. The furniture I took to Crickhollow with me has been returned undamaged to their original places, including, to my delight, Bilbo’s favorite arm chair in the parlor.

I rest my hand on the walls as I walk towards the parlor, as if to help me believe it’s real, then I stand in the doorway, silent, as my friends come up behind me.

“It seems as though I’d never left,” I say softly.

“Mr. Cotton will be bringing your things up later,” Sam says. “Do you like it?”

I turn to look at him, smiling. “It’s the best present I’ve ever gotten,” I say.

Sam smiles as Merry and Pippin envelop us in a hug. “I’m glad you like it, dearest. That’s why the three of us have been so busy lately, doing this on top of our other duties,” he explains.

I feel a tear of relief fall down my nose and Sam looks instantly concerned.

“Are you all right?” he demands.

I nod, smiling. “Thank you, Sam,” I whisper.

“Go look at the rest, Fro!” Pippin says, bouncing excitedly. He grabs my wrist and pulls me towards the bedrooms.

I look through the doorway of my bedroom, fixed up and re-done exactly as it was before I left. I stand there a moment, then flop down on my bed and lie there, taking in the new smells of my home. For the first time since I’ve returned to the Shire I feel as though I am finally home.

A moment later I sit up and see Merry and Sam standing in the doorway, and Pippin sitting on the floor at my feet. They are all watching me intently, and I give them a big, genuine smile. Pippin grins and Merry and Sam relax a little bit.

“I’m home,” I say softly, looking at them in amazement. “I’m alive and I’m home. In all my wildest dreams I never expected to come back at all.”

“You’re home, safe and sound, Fro,” Merry says.

For a brief second I wonder if I deserve it, but I push the thought from my mind.

Soon we are all sitting around the kitchen table and my dear friends are relating to me how they managed to keep their work secret all this time. I had known there was another conspiracy afoot, but I’d been too preoccupied to take any notice.

By noon there is a knock on the front door – my front door – and I jump up to open it.

“Hullo, Mr. Frodo!” Mr. Cotton says as I let him in. “We’ve brought yer things up. Figured as how you might want ‘em.”

“Thank you, Mr. Cotton,” I say as Jolly and Nibs come through the door, carrying bags full of my things. “I hope it wasn’t too much trouble,” I add.

“Not t’all,” he replies as I follow him out to the wagon where Rosie is sitting, holding Wanderer’s crate.

“Morning, Mr. Frodo!” Rosie calls as her father helps her down. She carefully sets the crate in my arms. “He’s a little frightened, Mr. Frodo. I think ‘cause he was left here alone, that he’s afraid to come back.”

I nod. “I don’t doubt it,” I respond, allowing her to walk ahead of me down the pathway and follow with my cat.

When I enter Bag End, Wanderer is crouched near the back of the crate, lying against me, shivering in fear. I bring him into my room and pull him out of his crate as Sam and Farmer Cotton come in carrying my writing trunk.

His claws dig into my shirt and waistcoat, and barely pierce my skin. It hurts a little and I grimace.

“What’s the matter, Frodo?” Sam questions.

“Wanderer’s a little scared,” I reply, gently pulling him away from my clothes. He meows, a small, strangled sound and I lay down on my bed, setting him carefully on my chest, hoping he’ll calm down. His ears twitch and I stroke his head.

“Do you want my help?” Sam asks, sitting beside me on the bed.

I shake my head as he fixes my curls. “No. I’ll just keep him with me until he calms down. I think he’s afraid of being left here alone.”

Sam nods. “I’m going to get these things put away, then,” he says, heading over to my boxes of clothing and books.

I rest my head on the pillow and close my eyes.

* * *

Sam and I are sitting in the parlor now, Wanderer calmed down a little and lying in Sam’s arms. Merry is beside me on the couch, asleep with his head on my lap, and Pippin is curled up on the floor at our feet on top of a pile of pillows that mysteriously disappeared off the couch. We are all tired after celebrating tonight. Pippin’s arms tighten around the cheese platter that he emptied almost single-handedly.

I glance over at Sam, sitting in an armchair, and smile a little. *“When are you going move in and join me, Sam?” I ask.

He blushes awkwardly and looks down at his feet.

* “There’s no need to come yet, if you don’t want to,” I say, hoping he isn’t thinking of turning down my offer. * “But you know the Gaffer is close at hand, and he will be very well looked after by Widow Rumble.”

* “It’s not that, Mr. Frodo,” Sam says, calling me by my old title out of habit. His face is getting red.

* “Well, what is it?” I ask, glancing at him quizzically, though I think I know the answer to my question.

* “It’s Rosie, Rosie Cotton,” he blurts out.

I smile, knowingly. I had been wondering when he’d bring this up.

26 ~ Engagement

Mr. Cotton, Mrs. Cotton and I are standing to one side, watching as Sam stands in front of Rosie, looking at her shyly. I smile at him when he glances over at me for support. He talked with Mr. Cotton nearly all day yesterday, explaining how he would provide for Rosie, and how I have offered them a home at Bag End. At first Mr. Cotton was a little concerned about me thinking they had taken advantage of me, but Sam explained to him that he was needed by my side. Mr. Cotton has always liked Sam and knows how much he and Rosie love each other, and he whole-heartedly agreed after that. Sam looks a bit nervous, but he quickly swallows his fear. Then he takes a deep breath and says it.

“Rosie, would you marry me?” he asks, searching her face for a sign of her answer.

She smiles and squeals happily, throwing her arms around Sam’s neck and kisses him. He seems surprised, but is smiling radiantly when she pulls away.

“I thought you’d never ask, Sam Gamgee!” she cries. “I haven’t been waiting all this time for nothing. Of course I’ll marry you!”

Sam smiles, and for a moment I see in him a brilliant light, shining like the phial of Galadriel. I smile a little to see if, remembering the times it shone for me on the Quest and how Sam’s light kept me going.

But after a moment it fades and he is once again just my Sam.

Mr. Cotton turns to me and says, “They’re so happy they’re glowin’!” He looks shocked.

I only smile back.

* * *

Sam’s belongings were all brought up to Bag End yesterday, only a week after I moved in. I wanted to give him Bilbo’s old room, the master bedroom, but he settled for one of the larger guest rooms close to my room, saying it didn’t feel right taking Mr. Bilbo’s room, even if Bilbo wasn’t coming back.

I close my eyes in the darkness of my room, wondering how much different things are going to be when my best friend is married.

Wanderer is curled up by my head, and I know he will keep me company at nights when I’m frightened, but I can’t help but wonder if Sam will still know instinctively when I need him or when I’ve had a nightmare. I wonder if he’ll still want me to calm him after his own terrifying dreams, or if that will be Rosie’s job now.

As I continue wondering, the door to my room creaks open and Sam comes to sit on my bed. He searches my face for a moment, then says, “Are you thinking what I’m thinking about?”

“And what’s that?” I ask, scooting over to give him room.

“Thinkin’ of how things’ll change once I’m married,” Sam replies, blushing as he says it.

“Yes,” I say. I look down at my hands, then glance up at him questioningly.

“T’won’t be too different,” Sam explains. “I’m still here when you need me. Rosie understands.”

“She is your main priority now,” I remind him.

He nods. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to forget you,” he assures me.

“But what about you?” I ask him. “Will you still need me?”

He gazes at me a moment, then moves to sit beside me and gathers me in his arms. “Of course!” he says. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

I smile. I like being needed. I lay my head on Sam’s chest and say, “I’m so proud of you, Sam.”

“For what?” he sounds confused.

“For finally asking Rosie. And for knowing when was the right time. I’m so happy for you,” I whisper. A pang of sadness flows over me for a moment when I realize again that I am never going to marry and have many children filling up my empty home. But I am happy for Sam, and I hope he and Rosie will have enough children to make up for it.

“What are you crying for, love?” Sam asks when I realize that tears are falling down my face. I wipe them away quickly and sniff.

All I wanted growing up was to be as good a father to my future children as my father was to me before he died. Now all my dreams are gone, and my soul with them. I look up at Sam, hoping he understands what I am unable to put to words. He does.

“I s’pose things are already more different than we wanted,” he says, holding me closer.

I nod, thinking suddenly that perhaps any new changes will be a good thing. I may not ever marry, but I will be with my brother and his family for as long as I am in Middle-earth, and I realize that no matter what changes, there are no other people I’d rather be with.

* * *

I wake up late the next day to the sound of dishes clanking in the kitchen, and take a moment before I remember that Sam lives here too, now.

I smile, rise, and get dressed to meet him out in the kitchen.

“Whatever you’re making smells good,” I say coming up behind him and giving him a quick hug.

“Are you hungry? There’s plenty here,” he says, indicating the pan he has over the stove filled with scrambled eggs, mushrooms, and various vegetables.

“I am a little hungry,” I say, wondering exactly how much I mean by a little, and hoping Sam won’t notice if I eat less than he normally sees me eat. I don’t want him to worry about me. “Can I help Sam?” I ask.

He looks as though he’s going to protest, so I quickly say, “Please?” and give him a pleading look.

He concedes and says, “You can get the table ready, then.” He smiles at me as I hurry to get it set.

I notice Wanderer laying at Sam’s feet, purring and almost asleep, for the first time looking completely relaxed in Bag End. I smile as Sam tries to walk towards the cupboard and nearly trips over him.

“Darn cat,” he says, smiling through his words. Wanderer just looks up at him drowsily and yawns before padding over to me and rubbing himself against my leg.

“Do you know, I believe that’s the first time I’ve seen him fall asleep here without his eye trained on me,” I say, glancing up at Sam in sudden astonishment.

“Is it, now?” he says, grinning. I meet his gaze, and his eyes tell me, “I told you there is hope for everyone, Frodo Baggins.”

27 ~ Troubles

Sam and I stand in the front room of a very dilapidated hole that had once been the home of a family of hobbits with eleven children.

I survey the damaged the Ruffians inflicted on the hole and close my eyes a moment. I hear Sam explaining to Mr. Goodbody that Lobelia Sackville-Baggins died three days ago and left me in charge of her money and Lotho’s with orders to help hobbits hurt or made homeless by the Troubles, as they call it. The Goodbody’s are able to live in their hole, but it is hardly in livable condition.

The children gather around behind their father, staring at Sam and I shyly. I notice the oldest boy standing near the back of the group, his left arm in a sling. I meet his gaze for a moment, then glance away when I see the haunted look in his eyes.

But he keeps looking at me, and steps around his siblings to stand in front of me. He looks about twenty-six years old, but as I look in his eyes again I get the feeling that he understands more than most.

“Are you troubled by what you see?” he asks, watching me sympathetically.

I glance around at the nearly ruined hole, and nod. I turn back to him and ask, “What happened?”

Mr. Goodbody and Sam head toward the kitchen, Mrs. Goodbody and the children following. Mrs. Goodbody turns and gives us a sad smile before closing the door behind her.

“The Ruffians wanted to use our hole like they used Bag End, because it’s in between Hobbiton and the Great Smials,” the boy begins. “They kicked us out, and forced a few of us to work the fields to produce food they kept for themselves. We moved back after your friends kicked them out, but we’ve had no help since.”

I shudder. Why hadn’t I thought to help before? Even Lobelia had thought of it before me.

“Don’t you worry, Mr. Frodo,” he says, reminding me of Sam. “You couldn’t have done anything then anyhow. You were needed in Hobbiton.”

“What’s your name, lad?” I ask, meeting his eye again.

“Ellis,” he replies.

“Ellis,” I repeat. “I gather you were forced to work as well?” I see numerous scars on his face and wonder about the sling on his arm.

He nods as he sits down on the ripped up couch. “They worked us hard. After a while, maybe seven or eight months, they wanted me to work as their servant boy, instead of in the fields. Just before you returned, my older sister died giving birth to her second child, and I couldn’t bring myself to do anything that day, so they beat me. Broke my arm. It didn’t set right when it healed, so now it’s useless.” He laughs a little. “My Da said he’d save to hire me a teacher, though, since I can’t do any manual trade now. I’ve always wanted to learn how to read.”

Suddenly I get an idea. “I can teach you to read for free,” I say. “And write and do sums and anything else you’ll need to know.” After all, I did teach Sam pretty much on my own with little help from Bilbo.

“Would you?” Ellis’ face lights up.

“Yes. I’d be glad to,” I reply.

He throws his good arm around me and hugs me tightly. “Thank you, Mr. Frodo!” he says. “I’d love you to teach me!”

“Then we shall talk with your father as soon as Sam’s done with him.” I gaze at the door to the kitchen.

“My mum probably has something to eat in there. Let’s join them,” Ellis says, taking my hand and leading me into the kitchen where his family and my Sam are gathered around a huge table, eating the food Mrs. Goodbody has prepared.

Ellis takes a seat beside his father and I take the empty chair to Sam’s left.

“What were you talking about?” Sam asks me in a whisper.

“I’ll tell you later,” I reply as he hands me a plate with a few pieces of fruit and a slice of Mrs. Goodbody’s cake on it.

“Eat that,” he says, returning to the conversation he was having with Mr. Goodbody.

A moment later they’ve finished discussing what must be done to make their hole decent to live in again, and Ellis turns to his father.

“Da, Mr. Frodo said he could teach me to read,” he says gently.

Mr. Goodbody turns to me, and I see Sam smile out of the corner of my eye.

“Would you teach him?” he asks, looking at me hopefully.

I nod. “Without charge. If he can find a way to be at Bag End three days a week I’ll teach him,” I say.

Sam takes my maimed hand under the table and squeezes it as we talk about details. I can tell he’s proud of me, and that he noticed I ate everything he put on my plate.

As we ride away Sam asks what Ellis and I had been talking about.

“About what happened to their family,” I reply. “He reminds me of myself as a child,” I say quietly. “He knows the reality of death and evil, yet he is still innocent and pure.”

I don’t miss the reproachful look Sam gives me but I ignore it. He knows what I had implied by that statement.

“I’m glad you said you’d teach him. You need it as much as he does, I think,” Sam says, changing the subject.

I nod. “I just want to help them.”

* * *

I rise the next morning to find Rosie and her twin brother Jolly here talking with Sam about wedding plans.

“Can we have it soon? There’s not much to prepare and there’s no point waitin’ much longer,” Rosie says as I enter the room.

“As soon as you want,” Sam says. “How ‘bout the first of May?”

I sit down at the kitchen table next to him.

“Sound’s fine to me,” Rosie says. She suddenly notices me. “Good morning Mr. Frodo,” she exclaims. “Your trip yesterday must have wore you out. It’s nearly elevenses!”

I nod. “I was very tired.”

“We should have all our plans ready for May first,” Rosie says, informing me on some of the things they were planning.

When Rose and Jolly leave, Sam turns to me and says, “Frodo, I was wondering…” he hesitates a moment.

“What, Sam?” I ask.

“Well, you know as how the groom should have one of his brothers standing with him in the ceremony? I was wondering if you’d do it for me instead of Ham or Hal.”

I smile. “Why, of course, Sam,” I say. “But,” I add. “What will your brothers say?”

Sam shook his head. “They don’t mind,” he says. “I’ve never been as close with them as I have with you, and they understand that.”

“Then yes, I will,” I say.

28 ~ Meetings

It is one week till the wedding. Merry and Pippin are here, staying with us, and Brend and Gen plan to come the day before with their families. It’s been planned that I am to go back to Buckland with them for two weeks after the wedding to allow Sam and Rosie some time alone.

I told my cousins about Ellis and they also agreed that teaching the lad would do me good. I haven’t thought much about it yet, since we’re busy with the wedding and I said I’d start teaching him once my term as Deputy Mayor is over, after mid-years. Ellis had been so excited to begin learning that I think he was a little disappointed to have to wait, but I know it would be too much for me, and he said he understood.

Rosie and her mother and Sam’s three sisters have been rushing all over Hobbiton to be sure everything is ready, while Mr. Cotton and the Gaffer have been making plans to move Rosie’s things in a few days.

Sam has been busy as well, and I’ve had little time alone with him lately, but I’ve enjoyed being with Merry and Pippin. They haven’t visited enough lately.

* * *

Gen and Brend brought their families to Hobbiton today and they are all at Bag End with us. It’s nice to hear children playing in Bag End. Gen’s three, Lily, Ruby and Brend, ran about all day, exploring and imagining while their parents joined the rest of us in the parlor.

“Rosie should be over soon,” Sam says as we all sit down in the various chairs and couches around the room.

“I can’t wait to meet her,” Heather says, taking her seat next to Gen.

“I’m sure you’ll like her,” Sam says with a smile.

I go to sit in a chair by Brend, not wanting to get in Sam and Rosie’s way, but Sam waves me over to sit by him on the couch that is big enough for three.

As I sink into the couch, Rosie walks through the door, and Sam stands to greet her, and introduce her to our friends.

Before we know it Rosie, Heather and Violet are talking about fabrics for wedding dresses and other such stuff like old friends. Gen glances at us, and grins, rolling his eyes. Sam nods his head towards the kitchen.

“Well,” Brend says cheerfully once we leave the lasses to their chatter and gather in the kitchen for a mug of ale. “At least we know they get along!”

“Do girls always do that?” Merry asks, looking somewhat frightened.

Gen and Brend nod. “They could talk straight through for days if you let them!” Brend exclaims.

“You’ve heard my sisters talking before, Mer,” Pippin says, smiling.

“Well, yes, but I thought that just ran in the family,” he says, grinning at me.

“Hey, slow down, lass!” Gen calls as his youngest daughter, Ruby, races through the kitchen, Lily holding Brend close on her heels.

“Someday your children will fill Bag End,” I say to Sam as I gaze after the three little ones, images of many children with Sam’s golden-brown curls running through the halls of Bag End.

I see Brend’s look out of the corner of my eyes, and I know he’s still confused as to why I won’t marry.

“Speaking of children,” he says a moment later, breaking the silence as though he’d just remembered something. “Violet is pregnant. She just found out a few days ago”

Gen claps his friend on the back. “Congratulations!” he exclaims, and we all join in drinking his health, then Sam’s.

* * *

I can’t sleep tonight. Wanderer is curled against my stomach, purring hypnotically, but I can’t stop myself from thinking that my friend is getting married tomorrow. I’m very excited.

I hear my door open, and a moment later Sam crawls into bed beside me. I roll over and smile at him. “Couldn’t sleep?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “Just thought I could stay with you tonight since I’ve been so busy lately and you’ll be gone for a while.”

I nod and smile. “I’m glad you came,” I say. “I’m going to miss you.”

“How’ve you been?” he asks, looking concerned. “I’ve been meaning to ask for days, but I’ve been dragged here and there, and Mr. Pippin said he’s got everything handled.”

“I’m all right,” I reply, this time really meaning it. “Better than I have been.” It seems forever since the thirteenth or the twenty-fifth. I haven’t done much writing lately, and I suppose with all the busyness has distracted me from thinking much, at least until I am alone at night.

“Why didn’t you want to come sit with me earlier?” Sam asks suddenly.

I stare at him for a moment, then say, “I didn’t want to be in the way.”

“Why wouldn’t you be in the way?” he asks. “Don’t you be thinkin’ that,” he chides me gently, scooting closer to me and wrapping his arms around my waist.

“Yes Sam,” I reply as he rests his head against my heart. I pull him to me, stroking his hair, remembering the last few times he had nightmares. They had been about me dying on Mount Doom, and after each he had reassured himself that I was still alive by falling asleep again with his head against my heart, listening to it beating.

“You know I want you around, and Rosie does too,” Sam states a moment later.

“Yes,” I say with a nod.

“Good then,” he says, curling up closer to me and letting wanderer lay at our feet. “Remember that, dearest.”

“I will,” I reply, smiling as we both drift off to sleep.

A/N: Once again there is a wedding in the Shire, and you are all invited! Please congradulate Sam and Rosie on FINALLY getting married!

29~ Another Wedding

“Are you nervous, Sam?” I ask in amazement, watching his hands tremble as he attempts to straighten his collar.

He blushes red and nods.

I chuckle a little and help him with his rebellious collar. “Don’t be nervous, love. Everything will go just fine,” I assure him, resting my hands on his shoulders as we both survey his attire in a full length mirror.

“You look fancy enough to be Prince of Gondor!” I say approvingly.

Again he blushes. “But Frodo, I don’t want…”

“I know, I know. Today is for you and Rosie, so enjoy it,” I order, kissing his cheek and running off to my room to change my waistcoat.

* * *

The weather is beautiful as we gather under the Mallorn tree, awaiting the arrival of the bride. The flowers that had blossomed earlier his spring reflect the midmorning sunlight and appear golden against the green leaves.

Then Rosie steps out of the closed tent at the back of the field and begins down the aisle. Sam grips my hand tightly as he gasps at her beauty.

Her red-golden curls are done up in lavender ribbons that match the lining on her white dress, and her smile is radiant as she comes to stand beside Sam.

He releases my hand to hold her hands in his as the officiator begins his speech. I barely hear a word he says, basking in my joy at Sam’s happiness. The feeling is one I haven’t felt for a long time, and I accept it happily. I doubt Sam and Rosie heard much either, as it seems the only thing in the world to them at this moment is each other.

He finishes and presents them with their marriage certificate, and they sign it before he announces them as husband and wife.

“You may kiss your bride,” he says in closing, and Sam does just that.

The crowd applauds, and Gen’s daughters begin giggling hysterically in the second row of hobbits. We all dismiss, and gather around the tables for luncheon. I sit next to Sam and Rosie, and try to fill my plate and begin eating before Sam remembers to remind me of it. I see Pippin near the other end with the young lass he’d met at the Yule party and head over to them the minute the meal is over.

“Ah! Frodo!” Pippin says, waving me over. “This is Diamond. She’s the girl I was telling you about. Diamond, this is my cousin, Frodo.”

I bow politely and say, “At your service and your family’s.”

She smiles and says, “Hello,” in a very quiet, shy sounding voice, nodding her head in a half bow.

“What brings you to Hobbiton?” I ask.

“My family is visiting some old friends for the week,” she replies.

She is, as Pippin had said, remarkably pretty.

“I ran into her and her older brother in the market yesterday, and heard she was staying, so I invited her to come with me,” Pippin explained. He looked happy and nervous at the same time. “That and Merry made me promise to introduce him as soon as possible.”

Diamond laughs, a sound almost like a water fountain, delicate and pretty.

“She thinks Merry’s funny,” Pippin explains again.

I nod. “I see. Well, you’ll have to introduce her to Sam and Rosie before we leave. I was just on my way to ask Merry when we’re going.”

Moments later I am saying goodbye to my best friend, wishing him well, and assuring him I’ll be back in two weeks. “I promise I’ll be all right,” I say, putting my hands on his shoulders. “Merry and Pippin will take care of me. You just worry about taking care of your Rose.” I smile at him, then grin at Rosie, standing beside him. “I love you, my Sam,” I say, hugging him tightly.

“I’ll miss you,” Sam says.

I squeeze his arm gently and then turn to Rosie. “You’ll take care that Sam doesn’t worry too much about either of us?”

“Of course, Mr. Frodo,” she says with a grin.

“I know you will. Congratulations, Mrs. Gamgee,” I say, using her new married name. Both Sam and Rosie smile and blush. They look at each other, then at me, and bid me farewell.

I wave back to them as I follow Merry and Pippin to their waiting wagon.

~Finis Part One~

A/N: I am sorry for the infrequency of my posts. This story would come along faster if it weren't for school, and the fact that I have very few ideas so far for how to begin part two. But never fear, it will come soon, I hope! God bless, Ellie Silmariën

~Part Two~

30 ~ Lessons

I watch carefully as Ellis scratches the letters to his name out on the small slate I had given him. We’ve already gone over the letters of the alphabet, and now I am showing him which ones make up his name. I am glad we’ve progressed so far in our first lesson. Ellis is an eager and quick learner.

As we continue, I can’t help but glance out the window at the road. Before I came home I got a letter from Sam saying that one of Rosie’s great-aunts had died and that they’d be gone till the day after I got home. The house seemed so lonely yesterday with just me and Wanderer. I am glad I changed my mind and had Ellis over for a lesson today instead of starting in a few months when we had planned.

“Here you are, Mr. Frodo, E-L-L-I-S. Ellis!” the boy exclaims, showing me the roughly shaped letters on his slate.

“Perfect!” I say. “Now which letter is the ‘e’?”

“The first one,” he replies.

“And what kind of letter is an ‘e’?” I ask. We had just gone over this.

“A vow-el,” he says, stumbling over the unfamiliar word.

“Exactly. Do you remember the vowels I taught you?”

As he lists the five vowels, Wanderer comes up and curls himself in my lap, purring.

“That cat is right attached to you, Mr. Frodo,” Ellis states, watching us intently. “I ain’t seen an animal that attached to no one, unless it were a dog.”

I smile down at Wanderer, then look back at Ellis. “I found him left in a basket here at Bag End when the place was in ruins. He rarely ever leaves my side unless he’s off exploring.”

“He mist know you’re somethin’ special,” Ellis says matter-of-factly.

I gaze at him moment, then look away, unsure how to respond to his words. I’m really not anything special.

“Can we learn how to spell your name now, Mr. Frodo?” he asks, as if not noticing my look.

“Of course!” I say, and I’m in the middle of explaining how you add titles to names when a cart rolls up the lane, and Sam and Rosie come up the walk, waving goodbye to the driver, a distant cousin of Sam’s.

I try to remain calm, and focus on the lesson, but Ellis stops me, saying, “Mr. Frodo,” and nodding his head towards the door, smiling.

I grin at him, then leap to my feet. I have the door opened and am in Sam’s arms almost before Rosie knows I’m there. She jumps a little, started at the sudden movement, but chuckles a moment later when Sam lets me go.

“Well, somebody missed you, Sam dear,” Rosie says with a laugh.

Sam blushes and looks at me. “How are you? Did Mr. Merry and Mr. Pippin take good care of you?”

I nod. “They did. Tried to fatten me up on Pippin’s cooking,” I say with a laugh, then step back so he can look at me. “As you can see, they weren’t very successful. Experiments are not often the pleasantest thing to eat.”

There’s a giggle from the doorway, and I suddenly remember Ellis and the lesson. I wave for the lad to come out and introduce him to Rose.

“At your service,” he says, bowing politely.

“We were in the middle of a lesson,” I say.

“Well, then, go have your lesson, and Rosie an’ me’ll just unpack our bags, and get settled,” Sam says, but I insist on helping him carry their bags in before returning to Ellis’ lesson.

“Was Sam your servant, Mr. Frodo?” Ellis questions when we sit back down to our lesson.

“Yes, he was.”

“But he isn’t now,” Ellis asks. “You treat him like a brother.”

“Yes. He’s far more than a brother,” I reply quietly. “He’s my heart.”

Ellis looks at me a moment, then says, “My sister was mine.”

I look at from the slate and stare at the boy for a moment. I hadn’t expected him to understand what I meant.

“When she died, a part of me died with her,” he says gazing at me. “My friends find it strange. They don’t understand.”

“Not many do,” I reply, smiling at this boy, wondering at how perceptive he is.

“I’m glad you do, Mr. Frodo,” he says with a smile.

31 ~ The Story

That evening I join Sam out in the garden while Rosie is preparing dinner. He is tending to the bed of marigolds that he and I have kept up ever since we were young lads trying to teach Sam’s younger sister to garden. She decided to stick to embroidery instead, so we ended up tending to a garden full of her name-flowers, and have kept them there ever since.

For a moment we just sit there in silent companionship. Then Sam says, “How was your time in Buckland?”

“Fine,” I reply. “Except when Pippin and I got stuck watching Gen’s children. That was an adventure!”

Sam chuckles, knowing Gen’s children have a lot of energy. I begin recounting the tale to him, telling of their various antics, beginning with the massive amount of soap suds the two girls managed to make in the kitchen, and ending with the all-out pillow fight before bedtime.

Sam laughs at the story, glad I had a good stay. I don’t mention the nightmares I had, or how much my shoulder pained me after watching the children. He doesn’t need to worry.

I kneel down by him and pick up a spare shovel to help him dig the weeds out of the garden.

He looks at me for a moment as if to protest, but I ignore him and continue weeding.

“You did good teaching that lad today,” he says. “Once I was done unpacking, I stood in the doorway listening. Reminded me of when I was learnin’.”

I smile at him. “Except you weren’t quite as fast a learner as Ellis,” I tease him.

He chuckles, remembering the incident I am thinking of, when he didn’t understand a certain concept I had been trying to teach him for a whole week. I had almost given up, until Bilbo came and explained it to him again. Eventually he understood it. He only needed it better explained to him.

We fall silent again, and after a moment more, my shoulder begins to ache, and I sit back on my heels, setting the shovel down.

“Are you all right?” Sam asks, stopping his work to look at me.

I nod, as Rosie comes to call us to dinner, thankful that I don’t have to explain to him that my shoulder has been causing me trouble lately.

* * *

After dinner Sam and I are sitting on the couch in the parlor. His feet are pulled up under him, and I am laying down, my head in his lap.

Rosie insisted on doing the dishes and shooed us out of the kitchen.

I had hesitated earlier to ask how their time at Bag End went, knowing that was personal, and he might not want to tell me, but Sam begins to tell me how excited Rose was when she found all the cooking utensils in the kitchen, and how she had decorated their room using the curtains and bed sheets her mum had made for them.

I laugh when he tells me how Wanderer had left them alone the first two nights, curling up on my empty bed, and then kept trying to sleep in their bed, right in Sam’s face.

“And Rosie didn’t believe me when I told her we found out the cat can play chess,” he says. “So I sat right down and challenged him to a game. And he won. She laughed so hard after that!”

I chuckle. “He’s getting too good for us, isn’t he?” I say.

“He is indeed,” Sam says softly, looking down at Wanderer, curled up at his feet.

Rose steps into the room and smiles at us, then comes to sit on Sam’s knee. Her expression changes a moment later, and Sam says, “What is it, Rose?”

“I was just thinkin’,” she says hesitantly. “Seein’ as how I’m part of your family now…” She glances at me, then back to Sam. “An’ I don’t really know where you went or why… and I was wonderin’ if maybe…”

Sam looks down at me, and I meet his gaze. “It ain’t really my story for the tellin’.”

I sit up and scoot closer to Sam, taking a deep breath. “I can tell it…” I say, glancing at Rosie, who is looking at me, as though bracing herself for something bad. She’s seen my finger, and Sam’s scars from the journey, but she doesn’t know it all. And for her sake, I won’t tell it all. “You don’t mind staying up late, do you?”

She shakes her head, and makes herself comfortable in Sam’s arms as I grab a blanket and let Wanderer crawl onto my lap. I take another breath, then I begin.

By the time I reach Rivendell, Wanderer is fast asleep in my arms, and I know Rosie is already scared. And I am not even telling her exactly how desperate we were to reach Rivendell.

“You must’ve been terribly worried, Sam!” She exclaims, wiping her eyes with the edge of her apron.

“I was,” Sam says, taking my hand lying beside him, and gripping it tightly.

She laughs, though, when I reach the day of Elrond’s council, when I tell her how Sam insisted he come with me, and how Merry and Pippin felt they were being left out.

I quickly go through our travels and our failed attempt to pass over Caradhras, then our journey through the nightmarish tunnels of Moria. She gasps when I tell of the Balrog, and Gandalf’s fall.

But when I mention Lothlorien, she seems calmed, almost, as though the very name of the place has magic to it.

I tell of all our gifts, and how Sam’s turned into the new party tree. I tell her how we left down the river, and how Sam was afraid of the water.

“And it’s right sensible of him, too!” she exclaims. “Rivers are dangerous!”

I nod. “But we had Strider with us, and he wouldn’t let anything happen to us,” I say, continuing on to tell of how Gollum was following us, and how Boromir was corrupted by the Ring.

Sam’s hand tightens around mine, and I know he’s remembering all the rest of what Boromir did and said that I told him as we made out getaway.

The rest of the story I go through rather quickly, leaving out much of the horror and despair of Mordor. I let Sam tell of his battle with the spider, smiling a little at the way Rosie is beaming at him, and then Sam tells of how he found me in the tower of Cirith Ungol, and lets me tell the rest. But I pause when we get to the mountain, staring down, and hiding my maimed hand under Wanderer’s soft fur.

Whenever I tell this story I freeze here. I did when I told it in Minas Tirith, and I am pausing now. I don’t think it will affect me to tell it until I try to, and now all I want to do is crawl away somewhere alone and die.

Rosie puts a hand on my shoulder in a motherly gesture and Sam pulls me to him, saying, “Go on, dearest. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. It weren’t your fault.”

That is easier said than believed. I take a breath, then begin again. “It took me at the end,” I say, still looking down. “And I claimed it for my own.”

I recount how Gollum attacked me, and how the Ring was destroyed in the end; not by me, but by the one creature who killed for it.

I tell her how we thought we would die, and how we were rescued and taken to Minas Tirith, and how everyone applauded us and praised us. And I tell her how, after a few months, we wanted to go home, and now here we are.

“And that’s the story,” she finishes for me.

I nod, looking at Sam. He sees that telling this has taken a lot out of me tonight, but he smiles at me and says, “We’d best all get to bed.”

I glance up at the clock on the mantle that reads two in the morning, and nod. We will all probably sleep till elevenses tomorrow.

32 ~ Party Plans

I wake up the next morning to my cat kneading my stomach with his front paws and purring loudly. I smile at him, stroking his grey patched fur gently as Sam comes in.

“Good morning, Frodo,” he says, drawing back my curtains.

I rub my face, trying to wake up and ask, “How late did I sleep?”

“Not too late. It’s only ten-thirty, and Rosie an’ me just woke half an hour ago,” Sam replies, coming to sit by me on the bed. “Are you all right? You seemed a little shaken after telling the story last night.”

I nod in consent. “I was, but I’m fine now,” I lie. I don’t think fine is quite the word for it, but if it appeases my Sam, then…

Sam looks at me searchingly, and I force a laugh, saying, “You worry too much, love.”

He shrugs, then says, “Rosie’s makin’ something to eat to make up for missin’ both breakfasts. Come eat something,” he says, tossing me my clothes and heading out to the kitchen.

* * *

“I need to run to the market today,” Rose says as she stands at the stove, scrambling the last of our eggs.

“Why don’t I do that for you, love?” Sam says. “And Frodo can come with me.” He looks at me questioningly.

I nod in consent as Rosie passes each of us a plate of bacon, eggs and her famous biscuits, freshly baked.

“I’ll get you a list once I’m done eatin’,” she says smiling at us.

I notice she’s given me less food than she did Sam, and I smile at her, grateful that she recalled how small my appetite has been of late.

Shortly after we’ve finished, Sam and I are out the door with a list of things that encompass one whole sheet of paper.

“We could be a while,” I say, looking at the paper, then smiling at Sam.

As we head down the road, out of earshot of Bag End, Sam turns to me and says, “I need help, Frodo. It’s Rosie’s birthday in two days, and I haven’t got a clue what to make for her birthday dinner. She says she just wants her family, mine and you there. So I don’t have to cook too much, but I don’t know what I want to cook for her.”

I pause for a moment. “Well, you know we’ll need a cake” I think for another second. “And mushrooms are a must. But other than that, I’m not sure either. She does like that chicken pie you make, though, Sam.”

Sam’s face lights up. “You’re right! I’ll make her that, then!” He gives me a brief hug, then we continue down the road.

As we purchase the items on the list, and a little extra for Sam’s surprise for Rosie, begin to feel sad. I see all the love and effort put out by my Sam on her behalf, and I am happy for them. It makes me sad that I won’t be able to give that for a wife of my own.

I remember my Uncle Saradoc used to tell me when I was a child that it wasn’t the end of the world when I didn’t get what I wanted. But now I don’t have what I want, and it appears to be the ending of my world.

When we get back to the smial, only two hours after we set out, we find a note in Rosie’s still choppy handwriting that says,

Sam and Mr. Frodo, Mrs. Salvia Goodbody (Ellis’s Mum)

is in town so Marigold and me are at the Gamgee’s

having tea with her. She said to thank Mr. Frodo for teaching

her lad. I’ll be back ‘round three.

Love, Rosie

I smile at Sam. “Now we can hide the extra food before she returns,” I say hurrying to help him unload the bags and baskets.

I reach the bag with the mushrooms in it, and pull one out while Sam’s back is turned.

“You can eat that, just so long as you’re eatin’ somethin’,” he says, still not looking at me.

“How did you know?” I ask, taking a bite out of the mushroom as he turns to put the basket of bread away.

“I know you too well, Mr. Frodo,” he says with a grin, unknowingly adding my title to my name.

I smile softly. “I am glad of it. I wouldn’t be here if you didn’t,” I reply quietly.

He shrugs, smiling back. “Just doin’ my job,” he says, turning back to his groceries.

I grin, then rush to help him with dinner details for Rose’s party.

33 ~ The Party

The hole is full tonight with Sam’s family and Rosie’s. I enjoy seeing them, especially Sam’s youngest sister, Marigold. She reminds me much of Sam, and has always been like a little sister to me.

Rosie looks as excited as a child today. She enjoys parties immensely and is so happy that Sam thought to give her one.

She rushes up to Marigold and Tom as they enter with Mr. and Mrs. Gamgee, and hugs her.

“I can’t wait to give you your present!” Rosie exclaims, beaming mischievously at her sister-in-law. “You’ll love it!”

Marigold smiles. “Will I?”

“Come, everyone else is already here, and waitin’ for us in the dinin’ room,” Rosie says as Sam and I lead the way. “I dare say our brothers are starved!”

“Indeed, they probably are,” Marigold says with a giggle, setting her cloak on the coat stand, and hurrying after us.

Marigold and Tom sit beside me as Sam sets the chicken pie on the table. Rosie is beaming at him.

“You made my favorite, love,” she says, kissing him before sitting down.

Sam smiles and blushes, then sits next to her.

After dinner, Rosie leads us all into the parlor to give out her presents. But before she starts, I rise and say, “Rosie, I have something for you. Among the Men of Gondor it is traditional to receive gifts on your birthday. Queen Arwen and King Aragorn sent this for you for your birthday.” I hand her a small box wrapped in blue paper.

Rosie looks at me curiously, then proceeds to open the box. She pulls out a beautiful gold chain with a ruby and diamond pendant attached to it.

“It’s beautiful!” she exclaims. “I’ve never had nothin’ so fine!”

“It was made in Rivendell by the Elves,” I reply, smiling as Sam helps her put it on.

“I shall have to write a thank you to them directly,” she says, reaching behind her chair to pull out a few bundles. “After I give out my presents of course.”

She steps over to Marigold, and hands her one of the large bundles. “You first, since I’ve been waitin’ all day to see your reaction.”

Marigold opens the sack, and pulls out the dress Rosie had worn for her wedding. “Oh, Rosie!” Marigold gasps, beaming.

“I knew you wanted it, so I altered it to fit you and decided to give it to you now.”

Marigold smiles happily, and throws her arms around Rosie’s neck, kissing her cheek and saying, “Thank you so much!”

She gives me and Sam and her various brothers, by blood or by marriage, each a scarf she had knitted.

Her mother receives a lovely apron and her father and the Gaffer are given sweaters.

At last she hands Daisy and May each a lovely bracelet she had made, and sits down next to Sam again.

The conversation picks up again, and Sam meets my eye as Rosie laughs at something Marigold says. He smiles at me and mouths, “Thank you.”

I smile back in answer, but I can’t think why he’s thanking me. I did barely anything.

For the rest of the evening I sit back with Wanderer on my lap, listening to the sweet sound of joyful conversation around me.

* * *

I pull another book off the shelf and glance over its pages quickly. I wonder how far Ellis will get in our lesson today.

I hear a cart pull up to the front gate and glance out the window to see the lad come up the path, a bag of books and supplies over his right shoulder.

I go to open the door for him, and he greets me with a large smile and a “Hello, Mr. Frodo!” just the way I remember Sam doing when he was younger.

I smile and say, “Good morning, Ellis. How are you today?”

Ellis shrugs, the smile never leaving his face. “Ready to learn more, Mr. Frodo!” he says, excitedly.

I close the door after him and lead him into the parlor.

“I learned the sounds of all them letters, and found ‘em in one of the books you gave me,” he says, leaping onto the couch and hurriedly, but carefully pulling out his slate, chalk and books.

“Good,” I say. “Now show me.”

He shows me the letters he’d found in the first paragraph of the book I had given him, then I ask him to sound out a few simple words and copy them onto his slate.

He does this quite nicely and quicker than I had expected. He pauses for a moment, after writing them down, and I look up from the book I had been flipping through, looking for short sentences I think he can read. I notice him looking at my missing finger. He isn’t staring as though he’s scared of it, or horrified by it, or even looking as though he doesn’t know what to think. He is just gazing at it thoughtfully, until he asks, “What happened on yer journey, Mr. Frodo?”

I pause for a moment. “Much happened. It would take a long time to tell of and I do not think your mother would appreciate it if I told you much of what occurred,” I explain to him.

He doesn’t protest, only sits back, knowingly, not pressing the matter, showing a maturity far beyond his years.

“It must have been bad, then. I heard there was a war,” he says. “Does your finger hurt?”

I glance down at it. “Yes, sometimes,” I reply.

“My arm still aches sometimes on account a it didn’t set right,” he says, unconsciously cradling his injured arm to his chest.

“Some wounds never heal,” I tell him gently. “Many of mine haven’t.”

“What do you do about it?” Ellis asks, stroking Wanderer’s head as he comes by.

I hadn’t really thought of it before. “I go on with my life, I suppose,” I reply. Which is true, for my physical wounds. But there are other wounds that no one can see that I have not, or will not, face, and I cannot go on with my life because of them.

I see a look in Ellis’ face that tells me he understands my pain and that he doesn’t know what to do about it either. I feel a sudden urge to comfort him and help him, but how can I help him if I don’t know what to do myself?

I pull out the book I had been looking at and return our attention to his lessons.

34 ~ The News

I am sitting in the study, gazing down at the half blank page before me, unsure if I should go on or not. I am nearly to Moria, but I do not wish to write anymore of darkness. I must go on, though. I have started it, and I must finish it.

I pause and glance up as the door opens. I turn around and see Sam standing in the doorway, a sad expression on his face.

“Sam, what’s wrong?” I ask, standing up.

“I just heard from a friend of the Goodbody’s that Mrs. Goodbody took ill sudden an’ they don’t expect she should get better,” Sam says sadly. “They don’t think she’ll last the night.”

It takes me a moment to process what he’s saying. “They think she’s going to die, then?”

Sam nods, and I feel a deep sorrow for Ellis and his family. They have become good friends of ours since I began teaching Ellis three weeks ago.

“We must go to them!” I say, suddenly. “Go tell Rosie to get ready, and pack some of those candies she makes that the children like.”

Sam nods and goes out, and I run to grab my pack and blanket before meeting them in the kitchen.

“I’ll go fetch the wagon,” Sam suggests, and I nod, helping Rosie shove the jar of candies in the bag she had grabbed. He notices the blanket in my pack and looks at me questioningly, but says nothing. It is summer now, but I still find myself getting cold much quicker than I used to.

* * *

Ellis and two of his younger sisters greet us at the door.

“Mr. Frodo!” Ellis exclaims, throwing himself into my arms. “Da didn’t know what to do, the little ones are all just sittin’ here, and they’ve been told to not bother the healer, but just sittin’ here’s makin’ them scared, and I don’t know what to do about it…” I can hear the tears threatening to break loose in his voice.

Rosie instantly rounds up a group of the children, and heads them into the kitchen to help her make supper.

Ellis looks at me for a moment, then buries his head n my shoulder, crying softly. I stroke his back, trying to comfort him the way Sam has always comforted me.

“I don’t want her to die too,” he whispers.

“I know,” I say.

I glance up to see Sam talking with Mr. Goodbody in the doorway to the bedroom. He looks strained and sad. He meets my gaze, and gives me a small, grateful smile.

I return it with a nod, and then turn to lead Ellis into the kitchen, where Sam joins us a moment later.

I notice that their kitchen is mostly repaired, though the rest of the hole is still in ruins. Rosie pours a glass of milk and hands it to Ellis, who sits, sniffling, at the table, cradling his arm to his chest.

He looks up and says, “Thank you,” then stares back down at the table as I come to sit beside him.

I can’t help but wonder why more sorrows have been brought upon this family that has endured so much. I do not understand why evil must continually befall those who do not bring it upon themselves, even after all I have seen of it. I wish I knew. That knowledge might make the trials easier to bear.

“There must be a reason for it,” Ellis says quietly.

I meet his eyes, seeing that old haunted look coming back. “Mum always said there’s a reason for everything. Even Ana dying,” he says, tears coming to his eyes again. “If she hadn’t died, this wouldn’t have happened” –he raises his arm- “ and I might never have met you, Mr. Frodo.” He shakes his head. “I just don’t see a reason for this happenin’ now.”

I nod as he leans against me, knowing that nothing I say will help at the moment.

“Ellis…” one of his younger sisters comes to sit by us, a small smile on her face. “You’ve got a milk mustache.” She giggles and Ellis smiles a little.

“Do I?” he says quietly. “Well, why don’t you bring me a napkin, Amber, and I’ll take care of it.”

I smile. “None of your other siblings would do that, would they?” I ask. “Make you cheer up like that?”

Ellis looks at me for a moment, then says, “No, they wouldn’t.”

“I’m guessing this is your turn to be to her what Ana was to you,” I suggest.

The child, Amber, comes up with a rag, and hands it to her brother, promptly seating herself in his lap.

Ellis wipes the milk off his upper lip, then wraps his arms around his sister’s waist and kisses the top of her brown curly head.

A deathly silence fills the room. Even the youngest are quiet, they understand that now isn’t the time for noise. And we wait.

35 ~ And then... 

The clock on the mantle strikes nine in the evening, and suddenly Rosie rises from her seat. “We should get the children in bed, Ellis. There’s no reason keepin’ ‘em up, and we can wake them, should somethin’ happen.”

Ellis nods, rising and lifting Amber into his arms. She is already half asleep, yawning as she wraps her arms around his neck.

Sam and I rise and we help pack the ten little ones off to bed.

As soon as we get the last child in bed in one of the three rooms the children share, there is a knock at the door, and Ellis rushes to open it so the sound doesn’t disturb the healer in the other room.

“Ferdinand!” Ellis cries softly. “You came!” He flings the door open wider as a hobbit of about 39 or 40 enters, carrying a small baby wrapped in a pink knitted blanket and a boy of about three or four toddling behind him arms wrapped around his leg.

Ellis ushers them in, taking the baby out of the hobbits arms.

“How is she?” he questions.

“I don’t know. The healer shut the door a few hours ago and hasn’t come out since,” Ellis replies. Suddenly he notices the hobbit staring at Sam, Rosie and I. “Oh, Ferdi, this is my teacher, Mr. Frodo Baggins, an’ his family, Sam an’ Rosie Gamgee. They’re good friends o’ Mum an’ Da too.” He turns to us. “This is my brother in law, Ferdinand Burrows, and his son Ben, and daughter, Ana. He was married to my sister, Ana.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” I say, bowing my head in greeting.

“And you,” he says, returning the gesture. “Ben’s tired, Ellis. Do you think I could slip in and put him to bed with Ted and Brin?”

“Of course. We just sent them to bed, so they’re probably not asleep yet,” Ellis says, sitting down on the makeshift couch, holding baby Ana carefully in his one good arm.

I stand behind him, gazing over his shoulder at the baby. “She’s beautiful,” I say.

“Looks like her Mum,” Ellis replies. “Someone asked me why I don’t hate her, since she’s the cause of Ana dyin’. I told ‘em, I couldn’t hate her. She’s almost all I got left of my sister.”

* * *

The clock on the mantle strikes eleven. Ellis is asleep on the couch, Rosie is rocking baby Ana, while Ana’s father paces the floor restlessly. I am lying at the foot of the couch with my head in Sam’s lap, as he absentmindedly straightens the tangles in my curls.

The door to the bedroom opens, and Mr. Goodbody comes out, looking extremely tired. Ellis is instantly awake and sitting up. Ferdinand stops pacing.

I rise to a sitting position, and search his face for a sign of what had occurred, but I’m not able to tell if it is good or bad.

“She’s alive,” he says, a small smile of relief flooding across his face. “The healer says she’ll probably not walk again on her own, but she’s gonna live.”

Behind me I feel Ellis sag in relief, and Ferdinand supports Mr. Goodbody to the cough, where he sinks down and pulls Ellis to him, tears streaming down his face.

As soon as they’ve composed themselves, Mr. Goodbody turns to me. “Thank you for comin’ out here. It feels good knowin’ folk really care,” he says.

“We couldn’t do nothing,” I say. “We’re only glad we could help.”

Sam and I stand. “We’d best go now,” Sam says.

“If you need anything else, feel free to send someone for us,” I say as Rosie hands Ana to Ferdinand, and gathers our cloaks and things.

“Thank you again,” Mr. Goodbody says.

“You’re quite welcome,” Sam replies.

I look back and see Ellis mouth goodbye, and I nod in farewell.

Sam and Rosie bid them goodnight, and we head home, exhausted, but relieved.

36 ~ Nightmares

The next day at noon, Rosie hitches Bill to the wagon and heads off to help Mr. Goodbody with the children and take them a dish she had made for tea.

Sam and I stay home so there aren’t too many people in the way.

At first I sit down in the study to write, but I cannot focus my thoughts on paper, and I realize I am too tired to write at the moment. The events of yesterday have left me drained.

I head out of the study, Wanderer trailing behind me, and flop down on the couch in the parlor. I stretch out, resting my head on the arm, pull a nearby blanket over me and fall asleep listening to the sound of Sam humming in the kitchen.

* * *

Darkness. That is all I can see. Darkness without end. My feet are moving, and I am walking, but I don’t know where I am headed.

I hear a Ellis’ voice saying, “I don’t want her to die too…” and I glance around, frightened. I look down and see… water, vast dark water, starting at my feet, with paths winding through it. I think instantly of the marshes outside of Mordor, and shudder. I gaze into the water, expecting to see the cold bloated faces I have seen in many nightmares since. They are there, but on face is different. Familiar.

“Mum?” I murmur, gazing at her dead distorted body in horror.

I stumble back, then turn and run, as far away as I can.

Ahead I see a light. It is directly in front of me, and I run towards it. But as I get closer the edges begin to take shape and I find myself standing before my worst nightmare: the Eye of Sauron.

Crying out in fear and pain from his gaze, I attempt to leave, but his Eye has be enchanted as the gaze of a dragon would.

“You cannot run, Halfling,” his voice cackles in my ears, loud and harsh. “You belong to me, your soul is lost.”

I shake my head, knowing they are lies, but something in me keeps telling me it’s true.

The Eye advances on me, attempting to drown me in flame and I fall back, shrieking in terror.

And suddenly I am awake with Sam by my side, shaking me gently.

“You had a bad dream, Frodo,” he states. “Are you all right?”

I shake my head, looking at him, frightened, trying to slow my racing heart.

“What did you dream of?” he asks.

I shudder and say, “Him.”

Sam meets my pained look and nods in understanding. “What did he say?”

I shake my head. “I haven’t dreamt of him in a long time,” I say, changing the subject. “I forgot how terrifying it is.”

Sam nods. “Are you going to be all right?” he asks. “Do you want to come with me while I make supper?”

I gaze at him blankly, unsure.

“You’re trembling,” he says, sitting by me, and pulling his feet up under him. “Supper will have to wait, I suppose.” He pulls me onto his lap, and pulls the blanket back over me so I am not cold, and holds me close to him.

I cling to his jacket, hiding my face in his shoulder, trying to calm myself. I hear Sam murmur, “What did he do to you, love? Why couldn’t I stop him?”

I know he’s talking to himself, but I say, “You wouldn’t have been able to stop him, even if you had a chance to. He would have killed you.”

He meets my eyes for a moment, then says, “Do you want to tell me about it? It might make you feel better.”

I hesitate, feeling tears come to my eyes.

“Go on,” he says. “I won’t be frightened or appalled by anything you say, love.”

I wonder if he’d say that if he knew what I know. I open my mouth, then hesitate again. After a moment of staring into his loving brown eyes, I look away and shake my head. I realize Ellis and I had talked about this very thing a few days ago, but I can’t help it.

“I can’t,” I say sorrowfully. “I just can’t face that.” I bury my head in his shoulder again and feel his arms tighten around me.

“You haven’t had a nightmare that bad in a while, have you?” Sam asks, gently rubbing my back as I tremble in his embrace.

I shake my head. “I thought they were gone for good,” I say sadly. I lay still a moment longer, then look up at Sam. “I don’t want to keep you from your work, Sam,” I say, my fear slowly receding.

“Are you sure?” he asks, meeting my eyes.

I nod. “I’ll come with you, but you needn’t hold supper on my account,” I say, smiling gently at him.

He falters, wanting to be sure I am well, but then slowly lets me go, and I stand shakily, allowing him to get up and follow him into the kitchen.

I sink into a chair at the table, and Sam puts the kettle on the stove for tea.

A few moments later, Rosie comes through the back door, smiling as Sam hands me a mug of peppermint tea.

“Mrs. Goodbody’s doin’ splendidly!” she announces, beaming at us. “She ate a little, and was sittin’ up, so the little ones all brought ‘er pictures they’d drawn on the paper you sent them, Mr. Frodo.”

“Good,” I say, sipping the tea carefully.

“Mr. Goodbody said he’d have Ferdi drive Ellis over for his lesson tomorrow,” she informs me.

I nod, then smile as Sam kisses her before they both go to make supper.

37 ~ Scars  

“I hope you don’t mind, Mr. Frodo,” Ellis says standing at my door the next day with Amber in his good arm. “Ferdi’s got his hands full of the other children, so I thought I’d bring her with me.”

I smile gently. “No, I don’t mind. Come in,” I say, ushering them into the front room.

Ellis sets Amber on the ground, and she glances around in awe.

“It’s so big, Ellis!” she exclaims, sticking close to her brother. “You live here, Mr. Frodo?” She looks up at me with big brown eyes.

“Yes, I do. Rosie, Sam and I,” I reply.

“Do Mr. Sam and Missus Rosie have any children, Mr. Frodo?” Amber asks. “You could fit lots in here, an’ I bet they’d not hafta share rooms, neither.”

I laugh. “No, they wouldn’t. Sam and Rosie don’t have any children yet, though.”

We move into the parlor, and suddenly I feel little hands taking my right hand and turning it over gently.

“What happened to your finger, Mr. Frodo?” Amber asks, glancing up at me questioningly.

“I lost it,” I reply, every muscle in my body resisting the urge to stiffen up and yank my hand back.

“An’ you can’t find it again? My Da takes off his thumb and puts it back on.”

Ellis shows me the trick most hobbit lads learn to scare the girls and I smile.

“No,” I say, “I’ve lost it.”

“Too bad. Maybe you’ll find it again someday.” She gives me a big, cheerful grin, and suddenly I feel my spirits lift just a little.

Ellis grins at me, as if sensing the change in my mood, and pulls Amber onto his lap as we begin our lesson.

I sit across from him on the couch and pick up the parchment he’d brought with him where he’d sketchily written the words I’d assigned him. Halfway down the page I see two words with handwriting different and a bit neater than Ellis’.

“Who wrote these?” I ask, pointing out the two words: quilt and horse.

“Amber did. She said she wanted to read cause she wants to read stories about adventures, so I’ve been teachin’ her what you’re teachin’ me,” Ellis replies, looking a little embarrassed. “So I had her write them words to see if she could write too.”

“Her handwriting is very nice,” I say smiling down at Amber, who is grinning at me.

“Thank you, Mr. Frodo!” she says, blushing.

* * *

They leave before Sam and Rosie get home from the market, so I whistle for Wanderer and shut myself in the study to do some bit of superfluous paperwork for the mayor, then I pull out my leather book to write a little more.

Wanderer curls up on my lap, purring loudly, and I stroke his ears as I consider how to begin the next chapter.

As hard as it is for me to brace and begin writing, I’ve found that I can’t stop very easily once I’ve begun.

I think over my opening statement four times, then finally put pen to paper, and I am swept up in my memories until a soft knock pulls me out of them. I blink, taking a moment to collect my thoughts.

“Frodo, Rosie’s got luncheon ready,” Sam says, opening the door and coming to stand by me.

I rub my face and look up at him blankly. “Hmm?” I ask.

“I said, ‘Rosie’s got luncheon ready,’” he repeats. “You’ve been writin’ since Ellis left, no doubt?” He gives me a reproachful look.

I nod, stretching my hand out and grimacing as pain shoots up my non-existent ring finger.

“Come on, let’s get something to eat,” Sam says, helping me rise, and leading me out to the kitchen.

* * *

After dinner I slip off to bed quietly after saying goodnight to Sam and Rosie. I keep thinking of Amber’s innocent statement, “Maybe you’ll find it again.” I look down at my finger in the dim light before blowing the candle out. Perhaps my finger will never be physically restored, but perhaps the scars left may be healed.

A/N: Another birthday gift for Antane, because she requested more chapters of my stories. Here you go, filled with hobbity-love, and Frodo having fun!! *grins* This chapter is actually based on real events that happened with me, my friend Eleon (my Sam) and our friend Tiana, playing in a fountain with a really nice pool (long story. *grins*) so it was really fun writing. I hope you like it! God bless, Ellie.

38 ~ The Picnic

The sun shines clearly this afternoon as I ride my pony up the drive from Mr. Whitfoot’s home. It is now Mid-year’s Day. I had received a letter from Mr. Whitfoot not three days ago, informing me that my term as Deputy Mayor is over, should I wish to resign.

I replied very quickly that I do wish to resign, though Mr. Whitfoot requested I stay for another term as Mayor.

Now the papers have been signed, Mr. Whitfoot is Mayor again, and I am on my way home, feeling as though the weight of responsibility has been lifted from my shoulders, even though it wasn’t much of a responsibility.

When I arrive back home, I find Sam standing in the kitchen, loading things into a basket.

“Hullo, Frodo!” he says, grinning at me. “I thought we’d go for a picnic today, seein’ as how the weather’s nice an’ all.”

I smile, feeling almost light hearted for the first time in a long time. “That sounds wonderful, Sam. Where’s Rose? Is she coming along?”

Sam nods. “She’s in changin’ so she won’t get her good dress dirty.”

Within moments Sam has finished with the basket and Rosie is done changing, and the three of us head out to find a quiet spot on the banks of The Water, away from other people out on this lovely day.

Rosie lays out a blanket, and we all sit down, resting for a minute from the walk before Rosie starts pulling out plates and bags of food Sam had brought to make lunch.

Suddenly my stomach growls, and Sam looks up at me with a shocked expression.

“Was that your stomach, Frodo?” he asks.

I feel myself blush and say, “Yes, it was. I think it’s saying I’m hungry!” I say, trying to make light of it. I have not been this hungry since… well, since the Quest, I suppose. But today my stomach must have decided to act more normal than it has been. I laugh, and Sam smiles at me, still looking a bit surprised, but happy.

We eat slowly, and then Rosie lays back, her head on Sam’s knee, and I stretch out on my stomach, gazing at the calm river flowing along beside us, ignoring our presence.

“I haven’t been on a picnic since Merry was little,” I say, thinking about how much I had used to enjoy picnics. “Uncle Bilbo wasn’t much of a picnic person. He preferred camping trips.”

Sam nods. And we sit silent again for a moment.

Suddenly, I rise, getting an idea. The sun is shining clear through the trees, and the day is hot. I walk up to the bank of the river, and dip my toes in.

“It’s not that cold,” I say. “Anyone up for a swim?” I glance back at Sam and Rosie, seeing the skeptical look forming on Sam’s face.

“Swim, Mr. Frodo?” Rosie asks. “I ain’t swum before, an’ I don’t reckon I’d be very good at it.” She grins at me.

“I don’t think I like swimming,” Sam says, and I can see he’s remembering when he almost drowned.

“Come on, Sam,” I plead. “It’s only about waist deep here, and I won’t let you drown.” I smile encouragingly at him. “It will be fun!”

Rosie is standing up. “I think it does sound like fun,” she says. “Besides, the heat is near unbearable.”

Sam looks from Rosie to me, questioningly as I roll up the ends of my pants, and wade into the water up to my knees.

Rosie comes to the edge and dips a toe in. “It isn’t all that cold. Feels right good!” She pulls off her apron that serves as a skirt over her dress, and comes in after me.

Sam stands, and looks at us as though we are crazy. Then he shakes his head, and says, “All right, if you insist, I’ll come.”

He pulls off his jacket and rolls up his pant legs as he saw me do, then follows us to the middle of the river.

It really isn’t that deep, only a bit above my waist, and the current is not very strong.

“See, Sam? It isn’t all that scary, is it?” I ask, as he wades over to us.

He grips my arm tightly, and says, “It is a bit, but not as scary as that river we was on,” he says, smiling at me a little.

“Just watch where you put your feet so you don’t slip on a slick rock,” I warn, feeling the bottom of the river with my toes.

Suddenly I feel a splash of water on the back of my neck. I jump in surprise, whirling around to see Rosie standing behind us, her hands clasped behind her back, and a mischievous grin on her face.

“Rosie?” I say. “Did you do that?”

“Me, Mr. Frodo?” she asks, putting on an innocent look. “Why, I wouldn’t do that!”

“I didn’t think so,” I say. “You’re too nice to think of it.” I pause for a moment, grinning. “But I’m not that nice!” I say, splashing her back. She shrieks in surprise, lifting her hands to block the water, and giggling.

Sam laughs. “So this is what I get for bringing you two on a picnic? A water fight?” he says with a grin. “Well, then you both deserve this!” He splashes water in our faces, getting Rosie’s hair soaking wet.

I cough and splutter, pretending to be shocked for a moment. “Sam!” I cry.

He looks immediately worried. “Frodo? Are you all right?”

I splash him back, wetting his shirt and hair. “Now I am,” I say, and he laughs.

“You scared me, love,” he says, as we all simultaneously decide that the water fight is over.

“I’m sorry, Sam. I couldn’t resist,” I say grinning at him.

“The water isn’t so bad, is it, Sam?” Rosie asks, bobbing up and down.

I take a deep breath, and dive under, popping up again beside Sam. “See, it’s perfectly fine,” I say, leaning back and floating on top of the water.

He watches me for a moment, then finally admits. “All right, it’s not that bad.”

I stand up. “Good!” I say. “I doubt you’ll be going under any time soon, but at least you’re not afraid of it.”

“How do you stay floating like that?” Sam asks. “I didn’t float, I sunk!”

I pause for a moment. “I don’t know. It just happens, I suppose, if you try lying on your back,” I reply.

We swim about for a bit longer, and I try to teach Rosie and Sam how to float on their backs.

After a while we look up to see that the sun is starting to set, and Rosie says, “All right, lads, I think we’ve had enough swimming for one day. It’s near time we should be getting’ home.”

39 ~ Exciting News

Sam has been gone for a few days now, visiting a sick second cousin across the Shire. The peaceful feeling of that day last week lingered until Sam left. Then I took to shutting myself in my study to write. Today, though, I am not feeling quite up to writing, so I curl up in my uncle’s old arm chair with a large book while Rosie is off visiting her mother for the afternoon.

I get so lost in the tale that I don’t notice Rosie is back until she comes to stand in the doorway to the parlor.

I glance up at her. She looks bewildered and a bit frightened.

“Is everything all right, Rosie?” I ask as she enters the room, hand resting on her stomach. I am beginning to suspect what’s going on.

She looks at me, wide eyed. “Mum says I’m pregnant,” she says quietly. She sits down heavily on the couch.

I refrain from leaping in the air for joy. My Sam is going to be a father! I smile at her, too excited for words, and she grins at me, then laughs.

“I’m having a baby!” she says. “Sam’ll be thrilled when he finds out!”

“Yes he will,” I reply. “I am so happy for you!”

She beams at me, then her expression droops a little. “I’m a little scared,” she admits. “What if something happens? Or what if I don’t know how to raise this child?”

“You’ll be a wonderful mother, Rosie,” I assure her.

She smiles again, then asks, “How long’ve you known, Mr. Frodo?”

I shrug. “I’ve seen this one in my dreams for a while now,” I reply. “This child will be a wonderful gift.”

Rosie grins at me. “Oh, I can’t wait to tell Sam!” she says, nearly bouncing off the couch. “He did promise to be back well before Tom’n Marigold’s weddin’ this weekend, didn’t he Mr. Frodo?”

I laugh gently. “Yes, Rosie-lass, he’ll be home soon. Perhaps even tonight.”

She suddenly leaps up. “I’m going to visit Ellis’ mum, tell her the news,” she says, kissing my forehead before grabbing her cloak and dashing for the door. “I’ll be back in time to make summer, so don’t you go touchin’ anything in the kitchen Mr. Frodo. I’ll cook it tonight!” she says, and I smile. “Goodbye!”

“Goodbye, Rosie!” I call in response as the front door clicks shut.

* * *

Rosie comes through the door a few hours later, a bag in her arms. I meet her in the doorway to take it from her.

“Salvia just had to give me some o’ her baby things!” Rosie says with a grin. “She said I could have them seein’ as she don’t need them anymore, as all her children are out of baby clothes now.”

“Well, that was thoughtful of her,” I say, glancing through the bag at the clothing and blankets, and smiling.

“I didn’t want to take them at first, but she insisted,” Rosie replies, her face suddenly clouding. “She said the healer told her she isn’t strong enough to have children no more. But she said she’s content with her brood as they are.” She smiles again. “I don’t know how she handles so many little ones, and bein’ stuck in bed or a chair all day at that!”

She has me put the bag in a drawer of her and Sam’s wardrobe, then heads to make dinner, the cat at her heels.

I stand in their room for a moment, thinking of their child-to-come, and wondering what Sam will say when he finds out, then I follow after Rosie to help her with dinner.

* * *

About an hour after dinner, when the sun has gone down, I hear the door creak open and Sam’s voice calls, “Rosie, Frodo! I’m back!”

Rosie looks up from her knitting, and I look up from my book. We smile at each other, then go to meet him in the doorway.

Rosie throws her arms around his neck and kisses him, then steps aside as Sam comes to hug me.

“Sam,” Rosie says when he turns back to her. “I’ve got somethin’ to tell you.” She grabs his hand and pulls him into the parlor. She holds his hands, and I lean in the doorway, listening. She is practically bouncing again in her excitement.

“Sam, I’m pregnant!” she says, grinning. She is practically glowing.

Sam’s eyes fly wide open, and for a moment he is speechless. “You… you are?” he asks when he finds his tongue.

I laugh, and Rosie nods. “Yes! I am,” she says.

Sam’s face lights up and he lifts her up, twirling her around before kissing her.

“When are you having the child?” he asks, looking just as excited as she.

“Mum says near March or April,” Rosie says.

Sam smiles again, then turns to look at me. I meet his gaze with a look, and he says, “What?”

“I was just thinking of how many little Gamgee children will be running around me hole,” I reply with a smile.

Sam grins. “As many as’ll fit,” he says.

I nod. “Yes. As many as you can fit.” Sam waves me over and wraps one arm around my waist and his other around Rosie’s.

“Congratulations,” I say. “That sounds sort of hollow and formal!” I complain. “But there isn’t a word I can think of to say what I mean.”

Sam laughs. “I think we know,” he says.

I lean my head on his shoulder, and close my eyes. “Can they call me Uncle Frodo, Sam?” I ask.

“If you want them to, dear,” Sam replies, and Rosie agrees.

I smile and nod. “I think I’ll go to bed now. Good night!” I hug them both, then turn and head for my room.

40 ~ Marigold’s Wedding

Sam has been whistling and singing all day long as we prepare for Marigold’s wedding, and his cheerfulness has lifted my spirits even more than Rosie’s news a few days ago.

Once, when I get him alone when he is singing, I smile at him and say, “What is the matter with you, Sam-lad?”

He grins. “Nothin’s the matter,” he says. “In fact, nothin’ could be better. My sister’s gettin’ married, my wife’s havin’ a baby, and you’re feelin’ well and lookin’ better.”

I grin and he hugs me, starting to sing again. His voice calms me and I rest back into his arms.

When his song is over, he makes as though to move away and go finish what he has been working on, but I stop him.

“Please, don’t stop singing, Sam,” I say, grabbing his arms and holding them about me.

He smiles, complying and I lean my head against his shoulder to listen.

* * *

Marigold and Tom decided to have the wedding in the evening under the party tree.

The three of us go out early to help with the preparations. Sam tried to convince me I should stay until it was time for the wedding. He said I didn’t need to help, but I insisted that I wanted to, and so he let me.

We reach the field just as the hobbits begin setting up chairs in the rows along the field.

Sam and I immediately begin to help, grabbing chairs and setting them in place and Rosie heads over to where her mum and Sam’s sisters are putting flowers everywhere.

I can see out of the corner of my eye that Sam is watching me closely every time I lift one of the chairs, but I just smile to myself and pretend I haven’t seen his look.

My back aches by the time we are through, but I am happy I could help. I do not mention this to Sam, but I can tell he knows my shoulder is bothering me as well.

The wedding commences without much trouble, other than Ham and Hall nearly knocking over the tables while setting up the food for afterwards.

Sam is all jittery. He and Marigold have always been close, and he is so excited that his little sister is getting married at last.

When the wedding is over, Sam stays close to his sister and her new husband for the feast.

I watch them from my seat beside Rose as Sam sits beside Marigold. They are all so happy and content that it can’t help but rub off on me a little.

I feel almost me again. I’ve been so focused on other things that I’ve almost been able to forget my problems.

Rose smiles at me. “It’s nice to see he’s makin’ you happy, Mr. Frodo,” she says.

I grin. “He’s always been able to make me happy, Rose.”

“He’s somethin’ special, hmm?” she muses. “Special like you, Mr. Frodo.” She grins at me as I feel myself blush deep red.

“Now, don’t you go denyin’ it, sir,” she says, wagging her finger in my face. “Both Sam an’ I see it.”

I smile at her gratefully. “Thank you, Rose,” I say. “Sam is very lucky to have you.”

Now it’s her turn to blush.

* * *

The three of us get back to Bag End late and go to bed shortly afterwards, but I can’t sleep. I just lie in bed thinking over everything that has been happening lately, and when I finally do fall asleep, my dreams are filled by a small, blonde haired hobbit lass.