22nd Halimath, 1482 SR

Samwise Gamgee tucked his pipe into his pocket and wandered into the garden. He had so little to occupy him these days - too much time to think. Rose's death at Mid-year had been a terrible shock, and this day was Frodo's birthday. His beloved Master had left them ten years before, slipping away ten days after his one hundred and fourth birthday. Life just was not the same with his two dearest gone.

       In the larger bathroom, Violet Gardner was folding sheets and pillowcases. Only that morning her father-in-law had patted her shoulder and told her she had made Frodo-lad a grand wife, and he reminded her that she was now the mistress of Bag End. She did not feel like it. No-one could replace Mother Rose. She still had to pinch herself that she, little Violet Sandyman, was living at Bag End, wife to the new Mayor, sister-in-law to the future Thain's lady, part of the Gamgee-Gardner family. The rest of her family had fared well: Teddy was the Hobbiton miller, with a reputation for fairness and generosity, wed to Daisy's daughter Bell Brown, and Lily lived at Number 3 New Row as Sam Shortburrow's wife. Her other brother, Will, was living in Tuckborough, Head Groom to Thain Peregrin at Great Smials. He had married the housekeeper's daughter Orchid Proudfoot. It had been a very lucky day for all her family when they came to live in Hobbiton again, at the invitation of Mister Frodo.

       She folded the last pillowcases and closed the door of the linen-closet. It was time to see to supper. She glanced out of the window to where her father-in-law was sitting on the bench, watching the sunset. Mister Frodo's birthday always made him sombre and reflective and this year his loss was twice as painful. She would prepare one of his favourite dishes in an attempt to cheer him. Bubble-and-squeak, garlic mushrooms and some good smoked bacon should make him smile a bit, although those smiles never seemed to reach his eyes these days.

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       Sam puffed on his pipe and patted the cat, Biscuit, the latest in a long line of Bag End cats, who sat beside him on the bench. The rotund red tabby purred and pushed against the hand which cupped his cheek. Sam gazed out at the Shire and felt a great deal of satisfaction to see it flourishing and peaceful. The Noakes' sheep bleated softly from the byre on the slope above New Row, and the ponies whickered as young Holfast gave them their supper.

       Although he could not see it, he knew what the Hobbiton burial ground would look like as the sun vanished behind the hills, with owls and bats swooping low as they set off to hunt. In a peaceful corner, in the shade of a great elm tree, slept the two he loved most. One grave marker said simply:- Frodo Baggins, Ringbearer, beloved of all who knew him. 1368 - 1472 Bronwe Athan Harthad. Every little hobbit child knew what that meant. A copy of the Red Book was now in every Shire school and there was a magnificent copy in the Great Library at Michel Delving, which was opened by King Elessar on Frodo's seventy-fifth birthday. The other marker just said:- Rose Gamgee, wife and mother, 1384 - 1482. No Rose more beautiful.

       Frodo had died in the arms of the King, surrounded by all those he loved - Strider's intuition had brought him north in time for the Baggins birthday that year. Elanor had come from Undertowers, Goldie and Pippin from the Smials, Merry from Buckland, young Merry and Pip-lad from near Whitwell. Sam still remembered that day vividly - the grief had been a physical pain for which there was no remedy. His dear Rose had understood and they grieved together for the one they had cared for so diligently all their married life.

       Sam noticed a cat sitting on the wall, watching him through slitted eyes. His eyesight was not what it had been, but he thought it was a ginger cat, so it must be related to the Bag End line. Not one he had seen around before, but it had a look of dear old Rufus, he thought.

       It had been a good life, Sam reflected. His children had all done well for themselves - Frodo-lad was married to a fine lass and he was now Mayor of the Shire. All those lessons with his Uncle Fro had paid off and he had a superb grasp of legalities and endless patience to deal with disputes. Ellie was living at the Tower Hills, her family growing fast, her husband Warden of the Westmarch; his little Goldie had married into the Tooks and since the death of Pippin's Diamond she supervised the running of the Smials. They were all married now, save Rosie-lass, who had fulfilled her life's ambition and become the Hobbiton healer. She lived in a little cottage the other side of the Party Field.

       That was odd. Two more ginger cats were sitting on the wall, together with a glossy black cat with a long tail. Where had they come from? Sam shrugged and went back to his musings.

       Merry-lad and Pip-lad set up an orchard and small-holding together. Young Pip had married his cousin Lily, who once shared his baby basket, and Merry-lad had surprised everyone by wedding the unpredictable, infuriating, spirited Persimmon Took. The two lasses got on like a smial afire, both were practical farmers' daughters who pulled their weight with chores around the farm. Even young Tolman, their last lad, born in Gondor, was married and living in Bywater. Young Hamfast was up in Tighfield, working as a roper, and young Bilbo worked as a nurseryman, specialising in growing trees to keep the woods replenished. Robin was a Shirriff, Daisy had married into the Brandybuck family and lived at the Hall, Ruby and Prim lived nearby. It was good to see them all settled and happy.

       A dozen cats now sat on the wall, regarding him quietly. It was rather disconcerting to see so many, and there was something distinctly familiar about them. On the bench, Biscuit puffed himself into a ball and stared. Sam blinked. Standing at the gate were two shining figures. Rose's hair lifted in the gentle breeze and she was wearing the blue dress she had worn at Bilbo's infamous party. Beside her, Frodo was resplendent in a fine brocade waistcoat. His ebony curls blew about and his eyes sparkled.

       "It is time, Sam," he said and held out his hand. "Are you ready for another adventure?"

       "Come on, Sam," Rose added.

       Sam bounded forward, then paused and looked down at his hands, which were smooth and strong. His back no longer creaked and his joints were straight and free from the twinges of age. His feet were covered in corn-coloured hair once more.

       "Stars and glory! Is it really as easy as this?" He glanced back at the bent, grey-haired hobbit on the bench.

       "As easy as taking one small step, my dear Sam."

       Sam looked back once more, his gaze straying to the half-open door. "Will they be alright?"

       Rose chuckled. "They'll be fine, dear. We taught them well. They'll manage."

       Sam was down the path and out into the lane in a trice. The cats milled around his ankles and he recognised them now, every one an old friend - Rufus, Mischief, Pickle, Sooty.......... He stood between Rose and Frodo, they linked arms and set off down the Hill, surrounded by eager felines.

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       Frodo Gardner stepped out to fetch his father to the supper table. The light from the doorway shone on the the apparently dozing hobbit holding his pipe loosely in his fingers

       "Da? Supper's ready." He hurried over and took his father's hand. The pipe slipped unheeded to the floor. "Da! Oh no!" Frodo-lad pressed his fingers to the side of the neck but there was no pulse. He stood for several minutes, just holding the wrinkled old hand which had once been so strong and firm.

        After some time he became aware that Biscuit was behaving strangely. He was now standing on the table, staring down towards the Party Field, where three vague figures were embracing the mallorn. Frodo-lad gawped. Surely not! The way they walked was unmistakeable.

       "They came for you then? I'm glad you won't be journeying alone."

       The figures turned and waved and he waved back, almost without thinking. He watched them gradually disappear into the gathering dusk, then went inside to break the news to his family.

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       Some folk in Hobbiton and Bywater - those who left their windows open till after dark - later swore that they had heard voices singing one of old Mad Baggins' walking songs. A few even admitted that they recognised the voices, and a good many were heard humming that song for weeks, though they had never heard the words before.

                                  Still round the corner there may wait

                                      A new road or a secret gate;

                                 And though I oft have passed them by,

                                     A day will come at last when I

                                 Shall take the hidden paths that run

                                  West of the Moon, East of the Sun.