It was autumn in the Shire and the fields and gardens around Bag End had given up their bounty. The harvests had been gathered and the barns and storehouses brimmed with produce for the coming winter. The last few months had been busy for Sam. He was often away from home tending the trees and saplings growing tall under the influence of the benign weather and the elven magic of Galadriel’s gift. The party tree had blossomed, even as Rosie’s pregnancy had progressed, and the birth of his beautiful daughter had crowned his happiness. Only his continued concern for Frodo marred his otherwise settled existence.  Frodo had never really seemed comfortable being back in the Shire. He avoided the company of all but his closest friends and often fell into silent, distracted isolation.  The pain of his injuries a constant dull reminder of his toils during the Quest.  He spent long hours in the study organising and finishing Bilbo’s diaries and completing the account of the Quest.  Merry and Pippin were frequent visitors, but even they could not rouse Frodo from his self-imposed isolation. Sam could offer comfort and companionship on the bad days, days that were becoming more frequent as the months progressed and the summer waned.

***

The afternoon lengthened into early evening. A comforting fire warmed the kitchen of Bag End. The day had been busy for all of the occupants but the bustle of the day faded  into quiet companionship. Sam slipped out to the stables to go and check on the ponies, he had checked the saddles and harnesses earlier but his excitement at the prospect of tomorrow’s journey made him restless.  It was weeks since Frodo had even contemplated venturing out of the burrow, so when he had announced to Sam his intention to visit Bilbo Sam had been delighted. To Sam’s disappointment he couldn’t venture with him all the way to Rivendell but he would accompany him for a week or so until Frodo joined up with other travelling companions.  Sam wasn’t aware of how these arrangements had been organised but he trusted Frodo’s judgement and knew that he would be well looked after.

Rosie bustled about the kitchen preparing the supper. Frodo sat in the rocking chair beside the fire with Elanor cradled in his hands.  He was crooning a story to her as he rocked gently. Her bright eyes gradually lost focus as her lids drooped, heavy with sleep. Frodo continued his story, his voice gradually getting softer and softer as she drifted into slumber.  When he was sure that she was sleeping he gently shifted her up onto his chest so that her head nestled unto his neck. He pulled a shawl around her and breathed in the gentle, distinctive baby smell. His breath caught in his throat, as he was overwhelmed with sadness.

Rosie looked up from the stove, aware of the sudden silence. Her smile quickly vanished as she noticed the tears on Frodo’s’ cheeks.

“Why Mr Frodo, whatever is the matter?” concerned that he might be in pain.

“Its nothing Rosie,” he choked

“Well the baby has had one bath today, I don’t want you giving her another” she teased gently, trying to ease the tension that filed the silence. “Let me settle her in her crib and then I’ll make you some tea”.  She lifted the sleeping baby and set her down in the crib.

Frodo continued to rock, unable to stem the silent tears that ran down his face. He hated to show his weakness, but could no longer contain the emotions he had suppressed for so long. He wanted to escape to his room to avoid Rosie’s’ concerned attention but he found that he lacked the energy to move. Rosie knelt in front of him and enveloped him in a loving embrace. He tried to pull away but she tightened her grip until he resisted no longer and he sank against her, sobbing.

“Shush…shush” she soothed as she would have done to Elanor. She held and comforted him for a long time until he stilled against her and his breathing eased.

“Can you tell me?” she asked quietly, taking his pale, beautiful face in her hands and wiping the tears from his cheeks with her thumbs.

“I’m not sure that you would understand… I’m not sure I understand!” he said shakily. “”You have both been so good to me. I’m so glad that Sam has you and Elanor…. it will make it easier…when…”

“When what, Mr Frodo?”

Suddenly realisation dawned and she stared at him in disbelief. “You don’t intend to come back, do you?”

“There is no coming back from this journey, Rosie. The Elves and Bilbo are travelling to the Grey Havens to journey to the West and I will be going with them!” He turned his eyes to the fire, unable to meet her shocked gaze.

“But what about the Shire and Bag End and the people that love you! What about SAM! You can’t do that to him…Not after everything you’ve been through together… you will break his heart,” she whispered “he loves you”.

“And I love him, that’s why I have to go” he countered. “I will not stay here and put you both through any more of my suffering. I couldn’t bear for him to see me diminish and fade away, to become feeble and helpless and a burden. You two deserve to be happy and I will not put that in jeopardy. ”

“ I knew when I accepted Sam’s proposal that you and he came as a package and I have never regretted my decision, you are part of his life and hold a large part of his heart and I love him for it.” she said brushing away a  tear that ran down her face.

“When do you intend to tell Sam?” she asked, moving away to put some distance between them

“Not until we are on the way,” he said. “…I know that it is cowardly of me, but if I tell him before we leave he’ll try and persuade me to stay, and I’m not sure if I am strong enough to resist him…. I don’t want to hurt him,” his eyes pleaded with her to understand and to forgive him.

“Are you sure this is the only way?” she demanded, her knowledge of Sam’s pain warring with her compassion for Frodo.

“What else can I do? This isn’t an impulsive decision. I’ve known ever since we returned that there would be no happy ending for me here in the Shire, but I did hope to have longer than this. If I don’t go now it will be too late and any chance I have of finding peace and contentment will be lost”

Rosie handed him a cup of tea and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

“Well then, you had better get yourself off to bed, Sam will be in soon. One look at your face and he will know that something is wrong. He knows you too well to be fobbed off with excuses”

“Thank you Rosie…. for everything!”

Later as she lay in bed Rosie listened to the soft sighing breaths of the baby asleep in the crib beside her, and the gentle snores of Sam. She moved closer and wrapped her arms tightly around his solid, comforting frame. He stirred and nestled against her, murmuring her name in his sleep. She wanted to wrap him in an embrace that would protect him from the hurts to come, knowing that she was powerless. She cursed the fates that had blighted the lives of the two who meant so much to her.

***

Sam was up with the dawn; he dressed quietly and slipped out into the kitchen to make a cup of tea for Rosie and Frodo. As he waited for the kettle to boil he gathered together the rations he would need for the journey and stowed them neatly into his pack along with his pots and pans. He whistled to himself as he worked, his happiness at the prospect of travelling with Frodo for a few days evident on his countenance.

“I’m not sure you should look quite so happy at the prospect of leaving me here on my own, Samwise Gamgee!” Sam turned to see Rosie in the doorway, her eyes heavy with sleep. Sam could see Elanor peeping at him from the bundle of shawls in her arms.

“Oh, I’m not happy to be leaving you, Rosie love, never think that” he said sheepishly.

“I know Sam, I’m only teasing,” she said planting a kiss on his cheek. “Now where’s my tea, this young lady woke me up to demand breakfast and I need something to wake me up proper”

“You don’t mind my going, do you? Asked Sam, now ashamed of his eagerness to go travelling.

“Of course I don’t mind. Marigold is going to stay with me until you return. We plan to be busy with bottling the fruit and making jam and cleaning through the burrow from end to end. A job that will be much easier without you under our feet!”

Sam wasn’t fooled by her brisk tone “I do love you Rosie; what ever did I do to deserve you?”

“You fought goblins, spiders and the odd Oliphant from what I heard tell!” She joked, “That’s not bad for starters! Now where’s my tea?” Sam smirked as he put the kettle on the range.

“Oh, I survived that and I came home to a dragon!” he ducked around the table to avoid a well aimed cuff.

***

It was mid morning before they were finally organised and ready to leave. Sam saddled Strider and Bill and they were now waiting patiently, tethered to the gate. Frodo moved from room to room, saying a final farewell to his home, trying to imprint each room into his memory. When he reached his study he checked through the documents on the desk to ensure that all were in order. Finally he took a sealed envelope and a bunch of keys and placed them on top of the large, red, leather bound journal. With a final glance around the room, so full of memories and lost dreams, he closed the door.

“Ready, Mr Frodo”

“Nearly Sam”.

At the round, green door Frodo turned to Rosie. He embraced her and whispered softly “Look after him for me, help him to understand, for he is dearer to me than life itself”, further words were impossible as he fought to contain the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him.

“I will make him happy, for his sake and for yours. It has been an honour to know you Frodo. Go now and find the peace you seek”.

“Thank you, Rosie”. With a last kiss he turned and walked to the gate.

***

They travelled at a leisurely pace and for the first few hours of the journey they travelled in companionable silence. The sun was warm and the autumn breeze played gently over the grass as they followed the road towards Woody End. Frodo’s face was hidden from Sam within the hood of his cloak, although he looked around as if drinking in the sights as they passed. Sam was constantly surveying the surroundings to check on the state of the trees as they passed and making mental notes of areas that still needed his attention to repair the ravages caused by the ruffians. 

As the afternoon wore on Sam suggested that they find a place to stop, he pleaded tiredness but this was merely an excuse. He had noticed that Frodo was sagging in the saddle, his head nodding down to his chest as he rode. They found a sheltered glade in the green hills and camped by a small stream.

“Come on now Mr Frodo, let me help you down”. Frodo wanted to resist his help but found he was too tired and stiff to dismount unaided.

“I seem to be a bit out of practice Sam, maybe I have been spending too long over my books!”

“Never mind that, the fresh air will do you good and get some colour back in your cheeks. You sit here while I light a fire and sort out the ponies”

By the time Sam had a fire going Frodo had fallen asleep, curled up in his cloak, his head resting on his outstretched arm. Sam smiled down affectionately at his master “I guess it has been a hard day” he said to himself. He laid out the bedding rolls and prepared some supper.  When all was ready he gently roused Frodo.                     

“Come on Sir, I hate to wake you but supper is ready and you need to keep your strength up.” He helped him to sit up and pulled a blanket around his shoulders. “Have some tea first it will help you feel better”. They sat side by side in the light of the fire. Several times Frodo seemed on the point of saying something but each time he faltered and lapsed into silence. Sam placed a hand on his shoulder “Come on Sir, lay yourself down and get some rest, we have further to travel tomorrow”.

“Thank you Sam, but you must rest too”

“Now don’t you go worrying about me, you just rest. I think I’ll just sit and watch the stars for a while”. Frodo lay down and pulled his blankets and cloak around him. Within minutes he was asleep.

Sam looked on the tranquil face of his companion. In the moonlight the fair contours of his face glowed with an inner beauty that tugged at Sam’s heart. As if sensing that their days together were numbered Sam ached to sooth away the cares and the shadow that had blighted the happiness of his dearest friend. With a sigh he pulled his bedroll up close and lay down on his side facing Frodo, he sought for the maimed hand under the blanket and enclosed it within his own. “Good night, my friend, Sleep well.”

********

Sam was again up with dawn. He washed himself in the stream and set about preparing breakfast and a hot drink.  When all was ready he roused Frodo gently, a mug of tea to hand to ease his friend into the day.

Frodo tried to turn over to lever himself into a sitting position, but failed miserably and lay back with a groan.

“What is it Mr Frodo?” asked Sam in alarm.

“I can’t move Sam” said Frodo with a grimace.

“Are you in pain?”

“Yes, but it’s not that so much as the fact that my arms and legs don’t seem to want to obey my commands” he added with a wry grin.  “It seems that when it comes to travelling I am more out of practice than I thought!”

“Well you have been spending rather a lot of time in your study just recently!” said Sam, “but I’m sure you’ll get back into the swing of things in a day or so”

“That’s not much help now though is it?” said Frodo with a flash of exasperation.

Sam put down the mug and helped Frodo to sit up.  He moved one of the saddles over for him to lean against and handed him his drink. They finished their drinks in silence. Then Sam proceeded to massage his master’s legs to warm the muscles and bring them back to life.

“Thank you Sam” said Frodo struggling to rise to his feet; he limped painfully towards the shelter of the trees. Sam rose to follow.

“It’s alright Sam; there are some things I can manage on my own!” He said with a distinct twinkle in his eye. Sam blushed and turned back to attend to the breakfast, pleased to see the flash of humour that had been so rare of late.

An hour later they were on the road again. Frodo had decided that he would walk for a while to try to ease the stiffness in his limbs. They walked side-by-side leading the ponies. Frodo was again lost in thought and was rather startled when Sam turned to him, rather hesitantly, and voiced a concern that had been growing in him since breakfast.       

“Mr Frodo, meaning no disrespect, but how are you going to manage when I turn and head back to Hobbiton?  It’s obvious to me that you are not strong enough to travel without help.  Much as I would love to see Mr Bilbo and Rivendell again, I did promise Rosie I would be gone only a week or two!”

“Don’t fret Sam, for I will be travelling with Elves: indeed, if we are lucky we should meet up with them this evening. I think you can trust them to care for me nearly as well as you would.” Frodo turned his face towards the horizon, guilty that he had still not the courage to tell Sam the real intention of his journey. “Come on, let’s ride for a while and see how far we can get before lunch.” He hoped to change the subject without Sam realising.

“It will be grand to see the Elves again” said Sam “I hope Rosie will get to meet them before they all leave for the West”, he continued wistfully. Frodo pulled his hood down over his face so that Sam wouldn’t see the shining rivulet run down his cheek.

As dusk fell the two riders came to a road that ran from East to West along the top of a rise.  They could see the road disappearing into ancient forest groves in each direction.

“We will stop here Sam, for this is where I hope to meet up with the elves”.

“We have been here before, if I’m not mistaken” said Sam, looking around, trying to remember why the glade seemed to evoke such a powerful feeling of familiarity.

“Yes Sam, it was near here that we encountered the Black Rider for the first time” said Frodo, looking around apprehensively, as if expecting another of the fell riders to burst through the trees.

“Perhaps we should move on a bit further, Sir?” suggested Sam sensing Frodo’s disquiet.

“No, it’s alright Sam; those phantoms cannot hurt us now.” said Frodo with a shudder.

They sat down in the shelter of the trees. Sam produced a cold supper of bread, cheese and apples from his pack and they washed it down with a mug of cider.  Frodo sat, his gaze lost in the middle distance. Sam lay back with his head cushioned on his hands, watching as the first stars appeared in the fading light.

“Sam, are you happy?”

“What a strange question Mr Frodo. You know I love spending time outdoors, and with you here beside me I couldn’t be happier”. Sam looked across, puzzled by strained note in Frodo’s voice.

Frodo flashed a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “That’s not what I meant, Sam. Are you happy with Rosie and Elanor and your life at Bag End?”

“Of course I’m happy! When we all got home safely and I realised that Rosie had waited, never giving up hope of our return, well, I thought I would burst with happiness. Of course it was a great shock to come home and find the Shire in such a mess, just when I thought all our troubles were over. But it was soon set to rights and well, … the scars will fade and the sleepy inhabitants of the Shire will settle back into their comfortable ways and pretend that it never happened. Not that I intend to let them forget, even if I have to bang the stories into their heads with my shovel!” Sam paused a while before continuing “Happy, oh yes Sir, I’m happy and now I’m the father of the most beautiful lass in the Shire, what more could I ask for?”

“You deserve every drop of happiness, Sam Gamgee, never lose sight of it, for it is very precious!” said Frodo wistfully.

They both began to doze as they sat and watched the evening stars brighten in the deepening blue of the night sky. It was as though the very stars were singing a fair tune to welcome the night.  Sam looked west along the road hoping to catch a first glimpse of the Elves. The singing grew louder, but it was not in the west that the faint glow of lanterns appeared.  They approached from the east, and as they got nearer it became obvious that it was a large party.

Frodo and Sam rose to their feet and bowed in welcome. Gildor led the party, and amongst the host they saw Lord Elrond and the Lady Galadriel riding either side of small pony who carried a familiar figure.

“Why bless me it’s Mr Bilbo!” exclaimed Sam.

“Then Bilbo woke up and opened his eyes. “Hullo, Frodo!” he said. “Well I have passed the Old Took today! So that’s settled. And now I think I am quite ready to go on another journey. Are you coming?”

“Yes, I am coming,” said Frodo. “The Ring-bearers should go together”.

( JRR Tolkien. The grey Havens, The Return of the King)

Sam sat down, his legs no longer able to support him, realisation suddenly dawning. It took a few moments for the full impact of Frodo’s words to sink in. He felt as if his world had suddenly collapsed.

“You’re going… you’re leaving and I am not to go with you!” he whispered, grief and pain overwhelming him. He felt sick; he could hear his heart beat pounding in his ears.

“I’m so sorry Sam,” whispered Frodo “I wanted to tell you, to warn you, but …I just couldn’t…..please forgive me” he pleaded.

Sam looked around at the gathered host, trying to detect anything that could bring him hope. Finally he looked to Lord Elrond and then Lady Galadriel, he saw the sadness and compassion in their eyes and knew then that all hope was in vain. He turned back to Frodo and grasped the front of his cloak. Frodo put a hand out to touch him; to make contact, to do something to ease the pain in Sam’s eyes, but Sam pulled away.

“Sorry!...You should have told me. After everything that we’ve been through…. you should have told me” He shouted.  Turning on his heals; he pushed passed the assembled crowd.  “In all the time I’ve known you, I’ve never before known you to be cruel……. how could you do this to me?” he staggered forward and brushing off the hands that tried to stay him, he blundered into the shelter of the trees.

“Sam…Please…” begged Frodo, but his words went unheeded

Lord Elrond looked about and saw that Frodo was on the point of collapse.  He steadied the trembling Hobbit and, lifting him, handed him to one of the Elves, where he lay silent and heart broken. Lord Elrond announced that they would travel no further that night.  They made camp and while Galadriel attended to Frodo he dispatched Gildor to find and care for Sam.

***

Sam blundered, unheeding, into the trees.  The darkness of night now complete. He moved forward, wanting only to put some distance between himself and the travellers. He could scarcely breathe for the pain in his chest; his sight blinded by the tears that poured down his face. He slammed his fist repeatedly against a tree, needing a physical pain to mask the strangling pain in his heart. In the darkness his foot caught on a tree root; he stumbled and lay gasping for breath, his hands clutching at the forest floor. As the pain and grief overwhelmed him he let out a howl of anguish that rang through the silent forest. He was racked with sobs that tore at him until he retched. 

Deaf and blind to his surroundings he didn’t hear the Elf approach. He was suddenly aware of an arm supporting him across his chest, he wanted to pull away but he had neither the strength nor the will to resist the firm but gentle embrace. He looked up at the Elf who supported him but the fair being never spoke; he rocked Sam against him as though he were a child. Sam felt the tension flow out of him and he turned his face against the chest of his comforter as his tears flowed.

Sam had no way of telling how much time had passed when his tears finally ceased. He pulled away from the Elf and rose to his feet, finally recognising Gildor.

“The last time we met in these woods you cared for us and offered us your protection…. It was one of the most special memories I had of our travels…. my first encounter with Elves…yet our dealings with Elves seem to bring nothing but pain…!” his words weren’t an accusation, just an expression of lost hopes.

“How can I answer that when your grief and pain are so clear, and yet we share in your sadness even though we cannot prevent it?” said the Elf gently. “Come Sam, for you are cold and weary, let us go and find warmth and comfort while we can”.

“Warmth maybe, but I can see no comfort that will bring me ease,” said Sam as he allowed Gildor to lead him back through the trees.

As they reached the encampment Gildor guided Sam to one of the smaller fires. He sat him down and wrapped a blanket around his shoulders.  He fetched a hot drink and a plate of food. Sam took a long drink but left the food untouched; he shuddered as the warmth settled in his belly.  He gazed into the fire, as he had done so many times on the long dark nights of the quest, trying to find courage and hope within its depths, but now it brought only memories of pain and struggle.

“He never meant to hurt you!” Sam was pulled from his reverie by the gentle but insistent tones of Lord Elrond. 

“Then why didn’t he tell me”?

“Because he was afraid that if you asked him to stay his resolve would falter. He loves you Sam, but he knew that leaving was the only chance he had to find peace and healing. He is going so that he may release you from the burden of his distress…How much longer do you thing he would last if he remained in the Shire?”

“I never asked to be released…he was never a burden… Oh, I could see he was failing: getting thinner and weaker with each passing month, but I promised to look after him and to never leave him…and now he is leaving me!”

“He will never leave you Sam, for he will always be in your heart: a love as strong as yours doesn’t just fade away, it strengthens as the bad memories fade and the joyful ones remain to shine forever”. Sam wiped his sleeve across his face. He swallowed down the tears that threatened to fall.

“What must I do?” he asked quietly.

“You must be brave, for Frodo needs you to be strong for him.   However hard this parting is for you, it is far more painful for him.  He is leaving behind all that he holds dear; his home, his family, his friends and all of the hopes and dreams that he had for his future. Be strong for him now, for your anguish can only cause him more distress. You kept him going through the darkest hours of your journey. It was your love that helped him to endure when no other help was at hand.  I know that your grief is raw and your heart is breaking…be strong for him for a few days more, care for him as you have always done.” Lord Elrond turned, and clasping Sam’s hands within his own, he continued “I give you my solemn vow; that when you give him into my care he will receive all that my kin and I can give to aid his recovery and his search for peace and happiness”.

“He told me long ago that I too could take a ship to the West,” declared Sam with a piercing gaze rarely seen on his normally tranquil countenance. “If I decide to take that road I will hold you to that vow and call you to account. My judgement will be harsh if I find you wanting!” 

“I will not fail you!

Sam allowed Lord Elrond to attend to his injured hand. The knuckles were bruised and swollen. He cleaned the wounds carefully and applied a soothing salve before applying a light bandage.

“Where is Mr Frodo?” he asked quietly.

“He sleeps over by the large campfire close to Bilbo. I gave him something to help him rest and to sleep without dreams”.

“I must go to him, I would not have him wake and find that I am not at his side”.

Sam moved soundlessly across the clearing. Few of the Elves were sleeping although some had settled down to the open eyed resting that Sam had become accustomed to seeing from Legolas during the time they had travelled together.  As he approached the largest campfire he saw the two sleeping Hobbits swaddled in blankets.  His own bedroll, supplemented with extra blankets was laid out next to Frodo.  He edged it closer and taking one of the blankets to wrap around him, he lowered himself down and, sitting cross-legged, he began his sleepless vigil. When Frodo stirred he crooned to him softly, tenderly brushing the hair from his brow. Sam tucked the blankets closely around him and rested his hand on his chest.

“Sam….!”

“Shush now… your Sam is here” Sam rocked himself backward and forwards, forcing down the tears that were so near the surface. The beauty and stillness of his master cutting like a knife to his heart.

***

* TBC*

As the sun rose, its warmth and light brought the company to life.  Frodo awoke to find Sam sitting beside him with his hand on his chest.  Frodo looked up at his friend and realised that he had fallen asleep, sitting upright, his head slumped forward onto his chest.  The events of the previous day returned to Frodo with a sudden clench of his heart.  He struggled to sit up, cursing the weakness that left him feeling so helpless.  Lord Elrond helped him to sit up and offered him a warm drink to ease him into the day.  Frodo eyed the liquid uncertainly and raised an eyebrow in silent question to the Elf.

“It is only tea, I assure you Mr Baggins” said Elrond with a smile. “I also have some for Sam; I believe he will be stiff and sore when he wakes, for he has not rested this night!”

“Is he alright”

“Frodo, he is brave and strong, and he loves you very much. But yesterday was a shock for him. It may take a while for him to understand your reasons for leaving. At the moment his grief and pain are great but he will, in time, see that it was the only way.”

Lord Elrond moved around behind Sam and began to gently massage the muscles in his shoulders. Sam’s head came up as he became aware of the hands easing the tension out of his rigid and quite painful muscles.  He opened his eyes to see Frodo holding a cup towards him. 

“Good morning Sam”. One look into the depths of the deep blue eyes of his friend all he needed to know that the anger and recriminations of the previous day were forgiven and forgotten.

“How about some breakfast, Mr Frodo”?

****

All that day and the next the party travelled steadily to the West. Even the Elves were subdued, the sad and solemn atmosphere of the Hobbits dampening their normal enthusiasm.  Bilbo appeared to sleep for much of the day, propped safely on his pony by elves on either side.  Frodo and Sam rode side-by-side, rarely speaking but occasionally reaching to touch the other as if to reassure themselves that they were as yet united.

When the party stopped for the night Sam attended to Frodo with his usual diligence.  The Elves relieved him of the necessity of caring for the ponies and of preparing meals.  When he was sure that Frodo had eaten his fill he set out his bedroll and helped him to get comfortable. He watched his friend until he was sure that he slept, and politely refused all offers from those who offered to take watch in his stead.  By sheer willpower alone he forced himself to stay awake, unwilling to surrender one minute of the short time he had left be with his master.

On the third day of travel Sam’s plight became a cause of concern to all who saw him.  His face looked gaunt and grey with exhaustion and dark smudges shadowed his eyes. The weather had turned colder and a light drizzle added to his misery. He shivered within his cloak and pulled his hood down over his face.  At midday they stopped to rest and to eat, taking shelter from the rain under a thick grove of trees. Sam insisted on attending on Frodo even though his hands were shaking so badly he could barely hold his cup. He drank his own tea in silence, not even having the energy to eat his own rations. Even Lord Elrond couldn’t break through the barrier of will he had erected.

“Sam this is madness, you are making yourself ill! You must rest and take care of yourself”

“Leave me be! I have the remainder of my life to rest and look after myself…. I promised to care for my Master and care for him I will, until you take him away from me! I have not given him into your care yet and I will not do so till the very end…. so please leave me be!”

Lord Elrond backed off, his healers’ sense telling him that to push harder would only worsen the situation.  Before the party started off again he spoke quietly to Gildor and asked him to stay close to Sam as they travelled. It was not long before Sam’s shoulders began to droop and his head dropped forward onto his chest.  Gildor moved up quickly, he put his arm around Sam’s shoulder to support him, and peering under his hood realised that Sam was fast asleep. Sam never stirred as he was lifted gently from his pony and cradled in the arms of the Elf. Sheltered with the folds of the Elven cloak his slept for the remainder of the day’s journey. When they stopped for the night pavilions were erected to protect the travellers from the rain. Sam slept on, cocooned within a nest of blankets, Frodo on one side, Bilbo on the other.

 Sam fought his way to wakefulness. He could hear softly spoken voices and at first thought them to be part of his dream. He felt a hand on his face and heard someone call his name.

“Sam, it is morning, are you with us?” He opened his eyes in confusion, expecting to see his familiar bedroom at Bag End.

“Mr Frodo…..!”

“Hush Sam, I’m here,” He saw Frodo at his side and behind him, Lord Elrond. “Come Sam, sit up and drink this and then we will have a proper Hobbit breakfast…. Lord Elrond’s orders!”

“I don’t understand,” he said shaking his head as if to rattle some sense into his muddled brain “What happened?”

“You fell asleep Sam, Gildor caught you before you fell to the ground and you have hardly stirred since”.

“Is this your doing Lord Elrond? Did you have a hand in this?” accused Sam.

“No Sam, though I was sorely tempted” said the Elf with a wry smile. “I had it on good authority from Gandalf that The Baggins clan were the most stubborn in the Shire but I believe you surpass even them! Now, we will not move another step until you have had a proper breakfast so I suggest that you stir yourself!”

“Yes SIR” said Sam rather forcefully for the normally respectful Hobbit.

****

As the sun rose, on what would be the final day of the journey, Sam and Frodo could be seen sitting together at the side of the glowing embers of the campfire. The two friends had not slept and the Elves had not intruded their quiet contemplations.

The night had passed slowly but to both of the friends’ morning had come too quickly.They had spent hours in quiet conversation, reliving memories, both good and bad. At times they had cried together, leaning on each other for support and comfort. Occasionally a soft chuckle would hover in the quiet night air at remembered mischief: the watchful Elves moved at the sadness conveyed by the outwardly happy sound. At other times they would rise and stroll silently about the glade, never moving beyond the sight of the assembled company but too restless and tired to keep still. As the morning bustle of activity stirred the camp the Hobbits recognised that they had at last come to a degree of acceptance, both of them aware that they could neither change the past nor deny the future. The chain of events that moved them set in motion long before their births. They bowed their heads to the inevitable.

Frodo and Sam had no need to speak together as they journeyed on, all speech unnecessary for they had opened and shared their hearts to one another.

Sam found Lord Elrond riding at his side. “Do I have you forgiveness, Sam?” he asked.

“Why would you seek my forgiveness? Me, a plain Hobbit gardener and you a great Elf Lord” he asked, puzzled.

“For not having the strength or the wisdom to save Frodo from pain and harm. I wish it had been within my power to spare you both from hurt!” Sam looked up at the Elf and saw grief and pain in his eyes

“I know you did what you thought was best, and maybe you were right. I just wish it had had a happy ending for Frodo… he has paid a bitter price…one that no Hobbit or Elf or Dwarf or Man should have to bear. Fate is a cruel master!”

They travelled on in silence for a time. As if to distract Sam, Lord Elrond asked him to describe the happenings in the Shire.  Hesitantly at first, Sam began to describe their return to the Shire from the time they had said goodbye to Gandalf.  He told of the locked gates on the bridge and their arrest by the Sherrifs. He laughed as he described how Merry and Pippin had force-marched the Sherrifs all the way from Frogmorton  to the Three-Farthing Stone, until they had given up exhausted and left their ‘prisoners’ to continue on to Bywater unescorted. He described their shock and anger at the wanton destruction of property and trees and the ugly, brick built houses and chimneys that had replaced them. As he told of Merry and Pippin ‘Raising of the Shire’ he glowed with pride, barely mentioning his role in the action. Lord Elrond noted the omission and smiled.

“Did you not have a part in these great deeds, Sam?” he asked with a chuckle.

“Well I suppose I did, but Merry and Pippin cut such a dash in their fine livery that they had the citizens roused and organised in no time. Not that it didn’t end in bloodshed! 19 Hobbits killed and 30 injured- some of them I’d known all my life. It wasn’t quite the homecoming we had expected!”

“Yes, the darkness cast a long shadow; there was little of Middle Earth that did not feel the taint of Mordor! And yet Sam, I hear that much of the stain has been removed already from the Shire, by your hand especially. You have put the Lady’s gift to good use and the groves and fields of the Shire blossom under your stewardship”

“Well growing things have always been my business and my pleasure, I am first and last a gardener”. “Is that so! Well from what Frodo has told me, he has planted a few seeds of his own and when they come to fruition he intends you to be a little more than a humble gardener!”

“What do you mean…? What seeds?”

“Never you mind for now, for each comes to bloom in its own season,” He said with an enigmatic smile. “Now, you have not yet told me about the changes in your life. I understand that you have now a wife and daughter”

This was a subject on which Sam needed no encouragement to speak. Love and happiness flowed from him as he described Rosie and Elanor.

“I never really understood before the joy of holding your own child in you arms, seeing the trust and love in the depth of their eyes and knowing that you have created something so perfect. I never thought to find such blessing in my life” he had to swallow down the tears that had come unbidden to overwhelm him. “I wish that I could have seen Frodo with a child of his own in his arms: he would have been a wonderful father! It’s just one more thing that the Ring took away!”

“I know Sam, becoming a Father changes your life forever” now it was Lord Elrond’s turn to turn his face away to hide his emotion. “Treasure every moment with your family, for each one is precious and will never come again.  Children grow so quickly that before you realise it their childhood is gone and they seek a life of their own”.

After a moment he put his hand on Sams arm “Sam, may I ask a favour of you?  I will never see my daughter, or indeed my step-son again except in memory… When you see them, as I am sure you will, will you embrace her and give to her the love of a father in my stead?”

“It would be an honour,” said Sam awed that he should be tasked with such a request. He continued with a wry grin “though I may have some explaining to do to the King!”

“Then you embrace him too and tell him that you stand in my stead, and that he should mind you as he would me!” Sam was not fooled by the stern expression, when the words were filled with such love and longing.

****

The Grey Havens were bigger than Sam had ever imagined. They passed through the gates and he gazed in wonder at the fair buildings that surrounded the harbour.  Sam stared in open-mouthed amazement, as he looked out upon the vast, endless expanse of water that moved in ceaseless motion upon the shingle beach. He had never realised that the ocean would have a voice of its own and he sat transfixed, wondering how he would ever explain it or the effect it had on him. Part of him wanted to run back to the safety of the Shire, to hide from the vastness that filled his vision. The other part wanted to stay here and drink in the beauty and wonder of its majesty and power.  It made him feel insignificantly small and at the same time honoured to be experiencing its grandeur.

He felt Bill move forward and realised that the company were moving on towards the harbour wall. There a great white ship sat, high in the water, sails furled, and waiting only for the passengers to board. This them was truly the end of the road.

He slid down from the saddle and moved to help Frodo dismount. Sam felt strangely calm. He felt Frodo tremble, he put an arm around his shoulders and whispered softly “It’s alright Frodo, it’s nearly time, don’t fret no more. You’ve had a long, painful road to bear and now it’s done.”

He spied Gandalf waiting for them and he gently ushered Frodo to his side. Gandalf greeted them warmly and gestured to two familiar figures hurrying towards the Quay. It was but a brief reunion but one that brought comfort to them all.  Frodo embraced his cousins and whispered his farewells.

Finally turning to Sam he held his dearest friend in a tight embrace. “I will wait for you, if that is your choice. Go now and be happy, a heart as big as yours will fill the Shire with happiness. Your friendship and love have been the blessing of my life. I love you Sam…. don’t forget me!” With that he turned and supported by Gandalf went aboard the ship.

At that moment Sam felt a physical pain within his chest as the hard knot of grief settled within his heart. He reached out blindly, seeking support. He felt Merry and Pippin move to his side and they stood together, locked in memory and grief as the white ship sailed, taking its precious cargo away across the sea.

*******

“Well, I’m back!”

Three small words, and yet they said so much.  Rosie heard Sam before he had appeared at the door.  She knew that he would see to the ponies before he came in.  She took the opportunity to boil the kettle and stoke up the fire.  Her heart thumped in her chest, knowing that the last few days would have exacted a terrible toll on her gentle, beloved Sam.

He stood in the doorway and one look at his face, grey and defeated, confirmed her worst fears. She drew him into a tight embrace as he stood uncertain and unresponsive before her.  She kissed his cold cheek.

“Come on Sam, come and get warm by the fire” she whispered. She unclipped his cloak, helped him out of his jacket and guided him to the chair near the fire. She could see him shivering with cold and grief; she reached for one of Elanor’s blankets and tucked it around him. She poured him a cup of hot, sweet tea and after a moments pause added a large tot of brandy.  When she turned back Sam was rocking backwards and forwards and staring blindly into the depths of the fire. She called his name softly but got no response. She called again, and with a hand to his cheek turned his face towards hers.  She nearly cried out at the look on his face when his eyes met hers, for the loving spark had been extinguished and in its place deep pools of grief and pain.

“He’s gone”!

The finality of it seemed to wash over him. “He’s gone to the sea with Mr Bilbo and the Elves and he ain’t never coming back!... He’s gone and left me… what will I do now?”

Rosie put down the mug she had been holding out to him.  She sat down on his lap and enfolded him within her arms.  At this his control crumpled and he broke down. Tears flowed as he was wracked with sobs that robbed him of breath. He clung on to her as though he was drowning and she was his only point of safety.  She rocked and caressed him for a long time until he gradually calmed and his breathing settled. She handed him the mug of tea but his hand was still too unsteady to hold it, so she put it to his lips and held it until it was finished.

Leaving Sam by the fire she busied herself, putting a warming bottle in the bed and running a hot bath.  She tipped in some of the lavender oil she normally used for Elanor’s baths, hoping it would help Sam to relax.

“Come on Sam lets get you warmed and settled”

“Just leave me be Rosie, don’t fuss…just let me be!” It nearly broke her heart to see his anguish but she knew she had to be strong.

“Sam Gamgee, don’t you go telling me how to look after my own! You are cold and tired and full of grief, and right now I know what is best for you, so don’t you dare argue with me!” she said, taking his hands and pulling him to his feet. He put up a token resistance but one look at her convinced him that she was determined to have her way. In truth he had neither the energy nor the heart to resist her. She guided him like a reluctant child to the bath room; helped him out of his clothes and waited until he was settled in the warm, scented water. Rosie returned to the kitchen, banked down the fire, and put out the lamps.

As she had hoped Sam had relaxed into the warmth and comfort of the tub. For a moment she thought that he had fallen asleep but when she touched his shoulder he turned his sad eyes to her and sighed, Rosie’s words dried up before she could utter them; words were of no comfort now. Within ten minutes Sam was dry and dressed and tucked up in bed. Before she slipped in beside him Rosie lifted the sleeping baby from the crib and placed her onto Sam’s chest. He looked at her with questioning eyes and before he could form his words she put a finger to his lips.

“This is how you go on, Sam! This is what’s important. You, me and our family! Maybe the future isn’t going to be what you hoped or expected, but all of the pain and suffering and sacrifice that you and Frodo and the others endured was to secure the future, not just of the Shire but for the whole of Middle Earth. You all paid a heavy price and you did it willingly.” She squeezed his hand and raised it to her lips. “You have a future; here with us….it’s what Frodo wanted… he waited to make sure you were happy….”

Elanor stirred and settled her face against his neck.  He felt her soft breath against his skin and at that moment his world shrank to cocoon him within the arms and safety of his family. He pushed down his fears and his grief and locked them within his heart to protect himself from the pain and loss.  He made a vow to himself that he would shed no more tears even if it meant living with the knot that had lodged within his breast.

***

Sam lay in bed for two days. Mostly he slept, rousing only enough to take the meals and drinks that Rosie brought to him.  She sat at his side and fed him as though he were a sick child, coaxing  and cajoling until he had finished.  Sometimes he would lay awake staring at Elanor sleeping in her crib for an hour or more at a time as if seeking answers to questions he couldn’t yet frame. He rarely spoke, seeking solitude in silence.

On the third morning after his return Rosie decided to take matters in hand and push Sam gently towards a normal routine. She had chores to do and the baby to care for and she reasoned that the sooner Sam took up the reins of his responsibilities the easier he would find it to regain his equilibrium. When breakfast was nearly ready she called to him from the kitchen. When this failed to get a response she marched into the bedroom, threw back the curtains and pulled the covers off the bed.

“Come on, Sam, breakfast is on the table getting cold and I’ll not have good food go to waste!” Sam recognised this as a veiled challenge but a lifetime of compliance was too hard to counter and he sat up.

“All right, Rosie lass, I’m coming!”

He dressed slowly and shuffled through to the kitchen.  Breakfast smelled good but he had neither the appetite nor the inclination to eat. He moved the food around the plate listlessly, conscious of Rosie’s silent disapproval.  When she went out into the garden he quickly scraped the remains of the food into the bin. “Don’t you go telling on me now Ellie” he whispered. Elanor was banging a wooden spoon onto the table top.  She flashed him a wide toothless grin and continued her game. At a loss what to do next Sam wandered out into the garden. He stood and watched as Rosie pegged washing on the line.

“Don’t just stand there dreaming, Lad, you go and see to the ponies while I finish here”. Sam entered the stall and habit took over from thought. He replenished the feed and water and brushed both ponies until their coats shone, all the while muttering soft endearments to them.  He found the task comforting.  With their grooming complete he turned them loose into the paddock and cleaned out the stall. As he watched the two ponies grazing placidly in the field he caught himself envying their simple and uncomplicated life.

***

Their life did resolve into a kind of routine, though it was not as Rosie had hoped.  Sam continued to flounder from day to day, lost in a haze of misery.  He helped her around the home and garden when she asked, but he failed to see what needed doing without being prompted.  The energy and drive that had kept him hard at work ever since he was a lad seemed to have deserted him.  The garden especially began to show signs of neglect; weeds competing for space amongst the flowers, and the grass, normally clipped and tidy was unkempt. He abandoned his care and stewardship of the recently planted seedlings. He rarely ventured beyond the edge of the garden.

It was two weeks before he plucked up the courage to enter the study; he was afraid that the memories there would overwhelm his fragile sense of control.  It was in the early hours of the morning, after another sleepless night, just as dawn began to lighten the sky that he made his way to the door. He held a lantern in one hand and raised the other to knock.

“Well you are a fool Sam Gamgee, you're the master now there is no one  going to bid you enter?” he scolded himself. He pushed open the door and peered in cautiously as though expecting to be caught trespassing. The light from the lantern illuminated the familiar scene in front of him and moving quietly he entered and closing the door he leaned back against it.  He had known this room since he was a small lad, the familiar smells reminded him of a thousand evenings spent here, first at Bilbo’s knee listening to tales of adventures and Elves and dragons, and later companionable evenings with Frodo.  He put the lantern on a shelf next to the door and picked up a small, glass inkstand. It was so familiar to him that he felt rather than saw the designs that decorated it. It had been Mr Bilbo’s prized possession, a gift from the Elves on his great adventure. It was small and rounded, and deceptively heavy. The glass was an opaque, milky colour and the decoration of leaves and flowers were embossed upon its surface. When Sam was a child it had always stood in pride of place on the desk, always filled and ready to use. After Bilbo had gone it had been placed on the shelf, a decoration to precious for everyday use. Frodo had his own inkwell; a small, glazed earthenware pot, decorated with his own shaky initials, made for him by Pippin. Sam weighed the trinket as his eyes move around the room.

He noticed that the room was uncharacteristically tide. The books neatly filed on the shelves that covered two walls: the desk normally an untidy mess of papers and documents was clear except for the big, red leather journal set in the centre. On top of the journal he could see a letter and Frodo’s big set of keys. He continued his surveillance from his position by the door. His eyes roved over to three maps pinned up on the wall.  The first was the oldest and showed the most sign of wear.  It was Bilbo’s map, detailing his journey long ago when Gandalf and the Dwarves had plucked him from his comfortable bachelor life and whisked him away to face dangers and adventures in far away places. Sam had always loved to hear Bilbo’s tales but now the realisation that his own and Frodo’s trials stemmed from Bilbo’s discovery of the ring darkened his memories. He had a sudden desire to tear the map from the wall and shred it into a thousand pieces. The sudden upsurge of anger took him by surprise; it was so powerful it made him gag. He was suddenly relieved that Bilbo had gone over the sea, relieved that he was beyond his reach! All of Sam’s anger was directed at Bilbo: angry that he had found the Ring, angry that he had brought its taint into the Shire and angry that he had passed its evil to Frodo. Sam could never remember lifting his hand in anger to anyone; even on the quest he had only lifted his sword in defence of Frodo or his companions, but now he wanted to hurt Bilbo, hurt him for what he had done. Sam looked at the inkwell in his hand and with a hiss of suppressed pain he threw it at the fireplace.  The glass exploded as it hit the hearth, glass fragments showering rainbow prisms in the light of the lantern as the shards settled on the floor and desk. His anger dissipated like a swirl of mist, he looked down at his empty hand and shoved it down into his pocket.

He dragged his eyes to the second map. This was the most familiar, and to Sam the most reassuring. It was a map of the Shire, centred on Hobbiton and detailed all the familiar haunts and pathways of his youth. This was the Shire of his memory. The Shire when life was sweet and uncomplicated; before darkness and fear had invaded his life.

Finally Sam turned his attention to the third map. It had been given to Frodo on their return journey to Rivendell. It was a beautiful Elven map of Middle Earth.  Sam pulled a  cloak from the back of the door and laid it on the floor to cover the shards of glass. He moved forward and raised the lantern to take a closer look.  Coloured lines marked the journeys of the Fellowship. From Hobbiton, to Bree, to Rivendell and beyond to Caer Andros was marked with a single black line; dates and notes marked in Frodo’s small script charting the progress of the quest. From Caer Andros the breaking of the fellowship was marked with a spider web of different coloured lines marking the individual journeys of the companions until they finally converged at Minas Tirith. Frodo had used this map to assist him in writing his narrative in the Red journal, a task that had consumed him mentally and physically.

Sam turned to the desk; he picked up the keys and put them in his pocket.  For the first time he noticed that the letter was addressed to him.  He turned it over and traced his finger gently across his name. He brought it up to his face, but there was no familiar scent there, he sighed and tucked it, unopened, into the front cover of the journal; not yet able to face this final communication. He left the room sadly and locked the door.

***

Winter turned to spring but even this failed to break through the haze of misery that enveloped Sam. He was thin and pale and hardly recognisable as the sturdy gardener of previous years.   He shuffled about Bag End, conscious that his unhappiness was affecting those around him but unable to fight his way back to normality.  He felt detached and isolated; his capacity for love and laughter sucked away by the black cloud of depression.

At night he would cling to Rosie in desperation; seeking comfort in her embrace but unable to offer her comfort in return.  He would wake from nameless terrors that left him shaking and struggling for breath; but he was unable and unwilling to share his fears with her. He would get up in the night and stagger outside to the garden to hide his weakness and mask his terror until the tranquillity of the night and the silence of the stars brought him a degree of calm.  He wanted to protect Rosie from the horror of his nightmares but he succeeded only in pushing her further and further away. Even Elanor seemed to sense the change him. Normally a happy, noisy child she sensed that Sam needed stillness and calm.  She would climb up onto his lap and stroke his face with her podgy, starfish hands or bury her fingers in his curls until they both fell asleep in the comfort of each others embrace.  Rosie tried hard not to resent the bond between them but she began to despair of getting back ‘her’ Sam.

Merry and Pippin made a point of visiting regularly. They soon realised the depth of Sam’s distress.  Sam would sit quietly while they reminisced about the past, he would sit and smoke his pipe seemingly lost in memory but he never joined in their discussions or laughed at their attempts to humour him.  Rosie came to depend on them for support and reassurance. She watched as they played and tumbled with Elanor; they would listen to her worries and while they offered no solutions except patience and time, she knew that they cared and understood.

***

It was clear to both Rosie and Sam that a crisis was brewing, but locked in their unhappiness neither seemed able or willing to head it off.

Elanor was growing rapidly and Rosie decided that as she was outgrowing her crib it was time to move her into her own room. She recognised that she would have to raise the matter with Sam and with some trepidation she cleared away the supper dishes and sat down next to him.

“Sam, I need to talk to you!” he raised his eyes to her but didn’t answer. Rosie took this as acknowledgement and continued.

“Ellie needs her own room; she’s getting too big for the crib. Will you make her a special bed, one with a rail so she won’t fall out?.... All the spare beds are too big for her right now” she said as she squeezed his hand encouragingly.

“If you like,” Sam replied

This was hardly an enthusiastic response and she hesitated before continuing.

“I’d like to do out the room next to ours for her,” she said quietly.

“No!”

“But Sam…”

“I said no… you’re not to touch anything!” he said vehemently, shaking off her hand.

“Sam, it’s the nicest room with the prettiest view, surely you want the best for Ellie,” she pleaded.

“That’s His room… you just leave it be!”

“But Sam, love, he’s gone and he’s not coming back!” she said gently.

“Do you think I don’t know that?” he shouted getting to his feet.  “I said no…and that’s an end to it,” he picked up his pipe and stormed out pulling on his cloak as he went.

Rosie sat with her head in her hands, she felt tired and sick and lonely.  She had handled it all wrong she realised, but then maybe there wasn’t ever a right way. She heard the baby crying; as she rose to go to her she swayed as a spasm of dizziness swept over her. She gripped the edge of the table and took a deep breath to steady herself, the fight with Sam had left her upset and hurt. She went through to the bedroom to settle the Elanor.

“Shush, sweetheart, go to sleep” she crooned “It will be alright… Dadda loves us...I know he loves us, ” she choked and a rain of hot tears fell down her cheek.

***

Sam stumbled into the Green Dragon and ordered a mug of Ale.  He looked around; the bar was full and noisy.  He found a quiet nook near the fire and nursed his drink. He spied Farmer Cotton and one of his sons across the room, he acknowledge their greeting but kept to his quiet corner, wanting only peace and quiet .He was ashamed of his out burst and at having raised his voice to Rosie. He knew it wasn’t her fault and that he wasn’t being rational but the thought of even going into Frodo’s room was more than he could bear. His quiet contemplations were rudely interrupted by a jolt on his arm.

“Why if it isn’t Sam Gamgee? We don’t see you in here much these days. I guess you’re above slummin’ it with us peasants now that you’re a man of property” Sam looked up to see Matty Harbottle leering drunkenly over him.

“I’ve just come for a quiet drink, Matt” said Sam, hoping he would soon loose interest and go away.

“Well you’re a sly one I must say, but then I guess you Gamgee’s always did know what side you bread’s buttered?” The fat, middle-aged Hobbit was too far gone with ale to notice the spark of fire in Sam’s eyes.

“And just what’s that supposed to mean?” said Sam, his temper rising.

“Well, always smarming and creeping round those Baggins’, making yourselves indispensable; first Bilbo with his mad adventures and silly tales and then young Frodo- sounds like he was as batty as his uncle!”

Sam had him pinned against the wall before he could blink.

“Don’t you ever, ever talk about Mr Frodo like that again, do you hear!” his voice was low and full of menace.  “He has more courage in his little finger than you’ll ever see in you poor, sorry lifetime. You have no idea of what he did…what he went through.  If it wasn’t for him you would all be servants of that Sharkey or worse still slaves of Mordor” Sam spat the words out as if they were poisoning him. “While you sat on your fat, complaisant backsides he went to hell and back… and what thanks did he get…heh!”

Sam kept the pressure on Matt’s’ throat, barely conscious of anything around him; adrenalin pumping through his veins.  He startled and looked around when he felt a firm but gentle hand on his shoulder. “All right Lad, let him be, he’s not worth the trouble” Farmer Cotton urged.  Sam dropped his arms; Mat took the opportunity to push Sam away and managed to land a blow on the side of his face.  At this the bar erupted into chaos as the private confrontation became a general brawl. Sam staggered to the door and slipped out into the night.

Once outside Sam’s knees buckled and he lurched into the shadows, coming to rest with his back against a low wall. He was shaking so badly he couldn’t even pull his cloak around him.  He could feel cold, icy sweat dripping down his back; he gasped, trying to catch his breath, his vision went black and bright lights flashed behind his eyelids. He could hear the blood pounding in his ears, he clenched his fists and tried to block out the screaming in his head.  It flashed through his head that maybe he was dying, and at that moment he didn’t care!

He lost track of time until finally became aware of his surroundings. His breathing became easier and his heartbeat settled; he slowly and painfully unclenched his fingers.  He listened for signs of activity but the bar was now silent. He pushed himself up and made his way home on unsteady feet.

Rosie was still up when he got home.  She took one look at him and moved to get a cloth and some salve for the bruise on his face.  Sam slumped down in the chair and pushed her hand away as she attempted to bathe the swelling on his cheek.

“Leave it be, Lass, I don’t need fuss!” he said tiredly.

“And what do you need, Sam?” the words burst forth before she could stop them. “It’s plain that you don’t want or need me! I can’t go on like this any longer, Sam…. I love you but you’ve shut me out and I don’t know how to help you…I won’t go on trying to compete with a memory and I won’t live in some museum to the past. This is supposed to be our home but now I feel like a stranger…..” her voice tailed off.

Sam didn’t respond.  He saw the truth of her words but didn’t know how to break out of the cycle of despondency.  The knot in his chest tightened.  The silence echoed.

“Sam?”

When she received no response she turned away.  Sam heard the rustle of her skirts as she walked out of the kitchen and caught the echo of sounds as she moved around the bedroom.  A few minutes later she was standing before him with Elanor asleep in her arms. She placed the child in his lap.

“You may not need me, but this one needs you; she needs her Father to love her, teach her, comfort her and care for her. It’s time you faced reality and stopped feeling sorry for yourself… I can’t do this on my own any longer…. I’m tired and lonely and I’ve had enough!” She turned and walked away, shutting the round, green door and walking into the night.

Two mornings later Merry rode up the hill and stopped at the gate of Bag End. He slipped his leg over the saddle and dropped lightly to the ground. It was mid morning and he was surprised to see no signs of life; the curtains were drawn, the door closed and there was no washing on the line.  He looked around at the garden sadly, dismayed by the obvious air of neglect. He shook his head and knocked loudly on the door. He could hear faint stirrings inside but his knock went unanswered. He tried again, more loudly and receiving no answer he turned the handle and slowly pushed the door open. He called out but his words were drowned out by the wailing that seemed to be coming from the kitchen. He stood at the kitchen doorway unobserved and took in the scene before him.

Sam was standing at the stove, still dressed in a crumpled nightshirt, his hair dishevelled. He was attempting to prepare breakfast with one hand while holding Ellie perched on his hip. The child was crying loudly and wriggling so hard that she was in danger of falling. One look at the state of the kitchen convinced Merry that all was not well. The sink was full of dirty crockery, the table strewn with plates of unfinished food and the floor covered with abandoned baby toys.

Merry coughed to announce his presence. Sam turned, hoping against hope that he would see Rosie; his face fell when he recognised his visitor.

“I’m not really up to visitors today” said Sam his shoulders drooping.

“Morning to you too, Sam, it looks like you could do with a bit of a hand?” Merry came forward and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Elanor’s cries stopped abruptly when she spied one of her favourite uncles, she raised her hands to him and squealed in delight as he plucked her from her Dada’s arms. After a quick cuddle Merry swung her into the air and dropped her lightly into her highchair. He stifled her emerging protest by handing her a cookie in one hand and a toy in the other. He guided Sam firmly to the table and sat him down.

“Right, Lad, first things first! You sit there while I make a brew and rescue the breakfast.”  Five minutes later the table was cleared and the floor tidied. Merry sat opposite Sam and handed him a mug of tea. Sam sipped his in silence, watching as Merry fed Ellie her oatmeal porridge.

“Sam, where’s Rosie?” Merry posed the question that had been puzzling him since he first arrived. “Is she ill?”

“She’s not here….she’s gone!”

“Gone where?” queried Merry, his concern growing.

“I don’t know… we had words...and she left!” Merry struggled not to allow his shock to show on his face. This was worse than he had imagined. He had come over to see if Sam was alright after he had heard whispers about the upset in the Green Dragon but he had not anticipated this turn of events. It was obvious that Sam was in a hole and needed help.  Merry took charge.

“Right,” he commanded “you go and get yourself washed and dressed: a hot bath will perk you up. I will sort out this little one and then we will have a proper breakfast.” Sam continued to sit with his head in his hand. “Come on Lad, get yourself moving, I haven’t got all day.” He watched Sam shuffle off down the hall and turned his attention to the baby.

“Now then, Princess, what are we going to do about this mess…heh? The dirty pots are easy; it’s your Da that needs help…any ideas for your uncle... I’m a bit out of my depth here!” Elanor smiled and continued with her game.

“Well, Merry, it looks like you’re on your own?” he muttered to himself.

Merry started on setting the kitchen to rights. He washed the pots and examined the contents of the pantry. Rosie’s absence was obvious by the absence of provisions; the bread was stale and the mushroom crock empty. He found some bacon and two smoked sausages, he went outside and collected the eggs and a few nearly ripe tomatos from the vine and assembled his hoard to cook them when Sam was ready.

“Now then, Princess Dirty Face, lets get you sorted.” He lifted Elanor from her chair and wrinkled his nose. “One of us needs a bath and I don’t think it’s me!. I think you’d better join your Da in the bath.” He undressed her and cleaned her off as best he could. “It’s a good job it’s me here today, your uncle Pippin doesn’t know one end of a baby from the other.” He blew a raspberry on her tummy and smiled as she giggled.

“Let’s go find your Dada.”

***

“Sam, I have to go over to Bindbale to check on some timber for my Father, will you to come with me?” Merry and Sam sat in the shade of a tree smoking their pipes, Elanor asleep on a blanket between them. Sam gently brushed a stray curl from her face.

“I don’t think so…how can I?. I’m not good company right now”

“Sam, there’s nothing that can’t be sorted…if you have the courage… lets face it anything from here has got to be an improvement, hasn’t it?” he said gently.

“What about Elanor…What about Rosie?”

“One thing at a time, Sam! Now I won’t take no for an answer, so you need to get sorted. I’ll take Elanor over to her Grandma while you get organised and get us some provisions.  It will take me an hour or two. I’ll leave my pony here while we’re away… can you get one of the lads to tend them for a day or two?”

“Don’t you want to ride to Bindbale?” queried Sam.

“No, I rather fancy a ramble, besides the exercise and fresh air will do you good!”

Sam helped Merry to collect together sufficient clothes and toys for Elanor and packed them into a saddlebag. Merry secured the infant in a papoose at his chest and set of for Cotton Farm. “I’ll be back by lunchtime Sam, make sure you’re ready!”

***

Mrs Cotton came to the kitchen door when she heard the pony’s hoofs clattering on the cobbled yard. She clutched at the doorpost, her face draining of colour when she saw Merry carrying her grand-daughter, her fear evident on her face.

“What is it…what has happened… is he alright?”

Merry, seeing her fear, raised his hand and smiled in reassurance. “It’s alright; Sam is fine or as fine as he can be given the circumstances. But I do need your help!” he continued, getting down carefully from the pony. Elanor’s eyes lit up with delight to see her Grandma and she wriggled to be free from the restraint of the papoose. Once free she went to her Grandma with delight.

“Is Rosie here?” asked Merry.

“Yes, she’s here, but she’s in a terrible state! I can’t get much out of her…she just sits and cries…I’ve never seen her like this…It’s like the pair of them are determined to break each others hearts…I don’t know how to help them, short of banging their heads together!”  

“I know, that’s why I want to get Sam away for a day or two. I thought that with a change of scenery I could maybe get through to him and help him to face up to things. This situation has gone on long enough…it’s hurting them both!” said Merry. “May I see Rosie?”

“Of course, she’s in the kitchen.  I’ll take this little one to see the animals and give you a chance to talk.”

Rosie was sitting by the fire, a shawl draped around her shoulders, a wet handkerchief twisted in her hand. When she saw Merry fresh tears flowed down her swollen, puffy face.

“Hush now…don’t cry any more. It will be alright” Merry hoped his voice sounded more convincing than he felt. “Tell me what happened?”

It was a while before she had calmed enough to speak. When she did finally begin it was as though a dam had burst and her words came out in a torrent. Merry held her hand and listened in silence as she unburdened herself of all her fears and concerns. She explained about Sams’ silence, about the locked study, the broken inkwell and about the unopened letter, about the sleepless nights and night terrors and Sams’ refusal to enter Frodo’s room, about his reluctance to talk about Frodo or the quest. When she had finished Merry gave her a hug and handed her a clean handkerchief.

“Rosie, I love you all dearly and I will do my best to help you all.  I want to take Sam away for a day or two. When we get back will you come and talk to him?”

“Will he want to talk to me? I’m the one who walked out…he may not want me back”

“Do you love him, Rosie?”

“Of course I do, but I’m not sure he has enough love left for me…too much was lost when Frodo left…I think he wishes he had gone with him!” This caused more tears to fall.

“Rosie, Sam loves you… I was there on the day you were wed, I saw the joy on his face, and he fair glowed with it. That love hasn’t gone; he’s just too full of unhappiness at the moment to see it. Don’t lose faith in him…we’ll get him back!”

Rosie smiled sadly. “I hope you’re right”.

*****

It was a cloudy but warm afternoon. Merry kept a brisk pace as the two Hobbits headed out towards Bindbale Woods. They stopped briefly mid afternoon for a snack and for Sam to catch his breath. He was shocked at how out of shape he had become.  He barely had enough breath to talk as they moved across country. He contented himself with listening to the titbits of gossip that filtered through the haze of his exhaustion.  As the shadows lengthened he called out to Merry who had gone on ahead.

“Ho, Merry, I need to stop for a while; I’ll catch you up later!” he sat down and leaned his head on his knees.

Merry dropped back. “Come on, Lad, there’s a good spot for camping just up ahead… can you make it?”

“Ay. I’ll be there in a minute just let me catch my breath,” gasped Sam. Merry handed him a water bottle and went ahead to make camp and start a fire. By the time darkness had fallen the Hobbits had finished their supper and were enjoying a second mug of Ale. The moon was large in the clear night sky and the stars twinkled through the haze of the fire.

 Sam sat contemplating as he gazed into the fire, anticipating the lecture that he had been expecting all day. The silence lengthened. When Merry finally spoke the comment took Sam by surprise. 

“Why did you stop tending to your trees, Sam? I thought that growing things were important to you. The Lady’s gift gave you such pleasure and I know how much it meant to the Hobbits about here. We all saw you nurturing and tending the Party Tree when it was first planted… Why did you stop caring?”

It took Sam a few minutes to order his thoughts and begin to craft an answer that would convey to Merry his meaning.

“I never stopped caring…but….it got too painful… growing things that I couldn’t care for anymore…it was more than I could bear!”

“I don’t understand, Sam!”

“All my life I’ve loved the outdoors, even as a nipper I liked nothing better than helping my Da in the garden, getting my fingers dirty, growing things to eat or just for their beauty. That was my life; I was ‘Sam the Gardener’, happy to tend Bag End for the love of doing a good job and bringing pleasure to my Master. I didn’t need riches or clothes or a fine Burrow…my life was simple.” Sam was barely conscious of his companion as he spoke; it was as though he were finally vocalising thoughts that had been whirling in his head for months. “And then we went on that journey and left all certainty behind us; every thing that was safe and familiar.” Sam lapsed into silence.

“Go on, Sam?” whispered Merry.

“Do you remember what it was like in Rivendell? When I had time to notice after… well, after Elrond had done his healing…I thought I had woken up in a dream.  It wasn’t just the Elves, though they seemed magical and special to me, it was everything: everything was so vital, so full of life and energy. Then when we got to The Lady’s Wood it was the same… and yet even more so, if you get my meaning. It was as if all of my senses were somehow improved; colours were brighter, scents more intoxicating, my touch more sensitive. I could feel the life and vitality of the trees and flowers, I could almost see them growing before my eyes: they shone with health.

When we left Lorien that extra sensitivity seemed to stay with me. That’s why being in Mordor was so hateful! It wasn’t just that our task was hopeless or that the land was barren and fouled; I could feel the wrongness of it, it was like the evil was seeping out of the rocks and the air and trying to invade my senses… I could never block it out!” Sam got up and paced around the fire, his hands forced down into his pockets. Cutting off his memories abruptly, he continued. “When we got home I planted the trees and sprinkled the Lady’s Blessing far and wide and I could feel it again, the life and vitality of the earth and I was happy…”

“So what changed, Sam?” asked Merry gently.

“When I got back…back from…after we said goodbye…it was as though someone had turned out the light. The trees and flowers were still there; I could see their colours and even see their beauty but I could no longer feel it! It was like looking at nature through a dirty window… I knew the beauty was there but it was indistinct and remote…I couldn’t bear it…it was like someone had taken a precious gift away and handed me back a paper copy…it was safer to have nothing to do with it…”

“But you’re right, Sam! It is still there; the beauty and the life and the vitality. It’s not a dirty window that is blocking your senses…it is grief and unhappiness- can you not see that? Why are you so hard on yourself? There is no shame in grieving or in sharing your grief! You are not the only one who misses Frodo!”

Sam sat down and stared into the fire in silence. Merry decided to change tactics.

“I recon it’s time we had something to look forward to. It’s been a pretty miserable year so far, I think it’s time we revived an old Bag End tradition. What do you say, Sam?”

Sam feared he knew what was coming. “I’m not sure I get your meaning” he said tightly, turning onto his stomach and looking away into the dark shadows of the trees.

“Do I have to spell it out, Sam?”

“Please…don’t….I don’t want to…I can’t… not yet… please, Merry, don’t!” he said in desperation.

“Don’t what, Sam... Don’t talk about grief…don’t talk about Frodo? Don’t mention his name. Is that what you want, Sam? To pretend that it never happened…that he never existed!” Merry shouted, emotion taking over. “To pretend that none of it mattered, that we never loved him or he us!”

Sam buried his face in his hands. “Of course not” he whispered, “it’s just that…”

“Just what, Sam?” Merry grabbed Sam and pulled him up onto his knees, he held him so that he couldn’t look away. “Go on, Sam, say it…tell me what it is?” When Sam failed to answer he shook him and shouted “TELL ME!”

“I can’t… I don’t know how…it...it just hurts so bad… I just want it to go away…to go to sleep and never have to face another day of missing him…it hurts Merry…it hurts!”

Merry watched in horror as Sam sagged away from him, lost in the depths of a waking nightmare. He watched as Sam toppled to the ground and lay curled up in a rigid ball, his eyes pressed to his knees and his hands covering his ears. He could hear his breathing, rapid and gasping as he struggled for breath. He had never seen anyone so distressed and was unsure of what to do. Whatever reaction he had hoped to elicit from Sam this was not what he had expected. He pulled a blanket over him and placing one hand on his chest and the other on his forehead he attempted to comfort and reassure his stricken friend. Minutes seemed like hours but gradually Sam’s breathing settled and his consciousness returned. He relaxed slightly and pulled away, ashamed that Merry had witnessed his weakness.

“Leave me be” he croaked, trying to stand, trying to get away and hide his shame.

Merry was having none of it. “Oh no, Lad, there’ll be no more hiding. There has been too much of that all ready.” Sam struggled but Merry just held him more tightly. “Come on Sam, just let it go...you don’t have to pretend or hide anymore. I know how much you’re hurting…I know how much you loved him!” Sam stopped struggling and covered his face with his hands, great sobs wracked his frame and finally his tears fell, the first few unleashing the dam of his grief.  Merry held him close as he was overwhelmed by the tidal wave of suppressed emotion. Merry did nothing to halt his own tears…”It’s alright, Sam…he’s safe now…and he loved you so much…don’t hurt yourself any more!” Sam felt the hard knot in his chest loosen slightly as his tears flowed.

***

Much later in the night the two Hobbits lay side by side in the glow of the fire. They had spent many hours talking and remembering and sleep had eluded them. Sam had opened his heart in the safety of the darkness and they had spoken long about rebuilding the future.

As the sky lightened with the dawn Merry had a final request.  He sat up and put a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Sam, I want you to do something for me!” He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a letter. “I want you to read Frodo’s letter?”

Sam took it from his hand and turned it over. “This is the last thing he ever wrote to me; once I open this I’ll have nothing left, except memories.”

“Go on, Sam, there are things in there he wanted to say to you, to share with you…it’s important! Holding on to an unopened letter won’t bring him back!”

Sam slipped his finger under the seal and unfolded the parchment. He clutched Merry’s hand as he read.

***

My Dear Sam

When you open this letter you will be back safely in the arms of your dear family. I know that you will be sad, and that my going will leave a hole in your life and in your heart.

Forgive me, my dear Sam, that I was not able to discuss my plans with you or to take you into my confidence. This was not meant to cause you further distress. But I could not trust myself. I was afraid that you would urge me to stay. My fear, that you would succeed and that I would change my mind! It would have been the wrong decision for both of us, Sam.

I realised many months ago that I would not live out my life in the Shire. Too much has changed; I have changed. I left too much of myself in the depths of Mordor and even my beloved Shire cannot bring me the healing and relief that I seek.  The scars of my wounds run too deep.  I see now that the biggest scars are not physical but are burned within my soul.

When I left the shire, at the start of our quest, I set out in the hope of drawing the danger away from the Shire and the people that I loved. Even at that point I had said my farewells, knowing that Middle Earth held many dangers and that there was a chance I would not return. When we left Rivendell it became clear that in undertaking the Quest I would forfeit my life! And I accepted that, Sam, it seemed a price worth paying. My only regret was that I was leading you to share my fate.

But we succeeded, Sam, beyond all hope and expectation, and my heart rejoiced.

I did not realise them how deep the scars had run. I cannot stay and become a burden to you and dear Rosie; though I know it is a burden you would gladly shoulder. You have both cared for me so tenderly for these last few months. But Bag End should ring to the sounds of happy laughter and I no longer have that laughter in me

Sam, my destiny it not to live out my life in the Shire.  But I see for you a long and happy life; surrounded by a rapidly growing family and a community that will value your strength and good sense. You have grown, Sam, in ways that you could never have imagined. You left the Shire a humble and loyal gardener but you have returned as one who will lead and guide those around you and earn their love and respect.

You are a Hobbit of means now. I leave Bag End and all of my belongings to you, my true friend and heir. Enjoy them and think of me with love. Find comfort and joy in your Rosie, for I can see in her lovely face that you have found your true soul mate.  I envy you that happiness but no one deserves it more than you.

I also leave to you Bilbo’s journals. I have finished my part; I leave you to write the last chapters. Keep the stories alive, Sam. Do not let the tales of the past be forgotten; they are a warning for the future. Evil will never be totally driven away and with the passing of the Elves who else will protect Middle Earth?

Although I leave with great sadness I do not leave in despair. I believe that in the West I will find healing and a release from the darkness that still haunts me. I will be among friends and will treasure the remaining time I can spend with Bilbo.

So do not grieve for me Sam.  Remember me as I was in the carefree days of our youth. We did not realise then how precious those times were. Live your life to the full Sam, in honour of the trials we went through. Look to our companions when you need support or guidance.  Merry and Pippin will need you too, though they may not see it yet.

What more is there to say?

Words cannot convey to you all that is in my heart. You are the brother I never had. I could never have asked for a truer friend or a more loyal companion. I love you, Sam, and if at the end of your labours you too wish to take the journey to the West a ship will be waiting for you at the Grey Havens; The last of the ring bearers on a final big adventure.

I will not say goodbye.

For I know in my heart that we will be together again.

Farewell, my beloved friend.

Frodo.

Sam finished the letter through a veil of tears. He handed the letter to Merry. “He always knew me better than I knew myself” said Sam smiling sadly through his tears. Merry handed back the letter and rubbed his hands across his face.

“Goodbye Mr Frodo” whispered Sam to the last star in the lightening sky of the dawn.

***

“Now, Sam, about this celebration?”

“Look I know you mean well, Merry, but I have too much to take on right now! “I have to win back Rosie, if it’s not too late. Though why she should ever forgive me I don’t know. I’ve hurt her so bad…I’ve made such a mess of thing and I love her so much…”

“And she loves you, you daft beggar” said Merry with a chuckle “You just have to talk to her and share with her…no more silences or secrets…! Now, how about if I organise the party and leave you free to woo the beautiful Rosie, does that sound like a sound plan? When we get back we’ll get Pippin and maybe Marigold to help us get Bag End into shape before you ask Rosie and Elanor to come home; it will be a fresh start for you all.

It took six days of hard work to get Bag End fit to welcome back Rosie. Merry, Pippin and Sam worked hard in the garden, digging, weeding and pruning until even Sam was satisfied. They then turned their attention to the interior. Marigold helped with the spring cleaning, polishing furniture and windows until they gleamed.  Merry helped Sam to pack away the last of Frodo’s possessions into cedar-wood chests to be stored. A new child sized bed was set in pride of place and complimented by a small table and chair. Marigold raided her Mothers blanket chest and produced a brightly coloured patchwork quilt. It was fashioned from scraps of cloth and each square was decorated with embroidered and appliquéd pictures of flowers and animals. It was also embroidered with names of all of the children who had slept within its comfort.

New sunshine yellow curtains at the window had been sent over by Mistress Cotton. Marigold restocked the larder and spent a morning baking and preparing enough food to keep the small family fed for days.

When all was ready Merry and Pippin set of in the wagon to fetch Rosie and Elanor home. They returned as the stars emerged in the night sky. Merry helped Rosie down and carried her bags as far as the door. “Alright, Lass, this is where we leave you. We will see to the ponies. Now you go and sort out that daft lad…!” Merry gave her a hug and kissed her fore head. “See you soon Rosie” he said nudging her gently into the hall.

“Thank you, Merry” she called softly as he set off down the path.

“Come on, Pippin, I think we deserve a pint or two, don’t you?”

*******

*TBC*

A/N  Frodo’s letter to Sam was first posted on fanfiction.net in April 2003 under the title ‘Remembrance’ and was the inspiration for this story.

Chapter 7

It wasn’t easy, not that he had expected it to be, but rebuilding his sundered relationship was his overriding priority.

They had both watched, with moist eyes as Elanor explored her new room. She had rushed about in a daze of excitement, exploring each item and squealing with delight. She tried out the table and chair for size and tried to pull her Sam down to join her, he ruffled her hair and explained gently that he was too big for her pretty new furniture. Next she scrambled up on to the bed and dived under the covers, pulling the quilt up to her chin. She carefully examined each colourful square, tripping over the names of the animals that decorated each patch. She was too restless and excited to stay beneath the cover and moved next to the window. She clambered up onto the window seat and gazed out at the garden, then opened and closed the curtains with the air of a house-proud matron.

Rosie and Sam stood in the doorway and watched. Sam smiled sadly as the  new images vied in his mind with the long held memories of the past; there was only the vaguest echo  of the once familiar scent in the room. Fresh paint, new timber and new fabric masked the old and set a new pattern.

“Thank you, Sam,” whispered Rosie, “you’ve made her so happy.”

“Aye, lass, I guess you’re right.” Their hands touched briefly and they both drew back at the spark of energy that jolted the sense of hesitancy between them.

Their reunion that night was tender and gentle. Each felt their way back towards intimacy with hesitant and uncertain steps. The easy, laughter filled passion of their early days together remembered but not yet rekindled.  As they lay together Sam began to talk, quietly and haltingly; he soon lost himself and much that he had kept locked within himself poured forth in a torrent of words and feelings.  For the first time since his return from the Havens he talked openly of his friend; the grief, the pain, the lost tomorrows, for the first time speaking his name out loud to Rosie. Now it was Rosie’s turn to weep silently as she lay within the circle of his arms. There was still much that remained unspoken, each guarding confidences that they hadn’t yet the courage to voice.

“Can you forgive me” whispered Sam, “I never meant to hurt you so…I love you Rosie.” Rosie drew his hand to her lips and unfurling his fingers pressed a soft kiss onto his palm.

“Only if you can forgive me for leaving you?”

“But I never gave you much choice, did I?...I’m surprised you stayed for so long!” he hugged her more tightly. “Don’t ever leave me. I’m not whole without you. I couldn’t bear to lose you too!”

They fell asleep folded in each others arms, heartbeats mingling and combining in a tattoo of rekindled companionship.

When Sam woke, in the dark fear filled grip of terror Rosie tightened her embrace, soothing and comforting until his fear abated and his breathing settled into the easy rhythm of sleep.

“Will you tell me, one day, Sam where you travel in your dreams and what shadows darken your memories?” whispered Rosie as she watched him sleep.

***

As the summer days shortened to autumn Sam slowly regained some of his former vitality. He took pleasure in being outside and introducing Elanor to the pleasures of growing things. She followed him round with her own miniature tools in a tiny barrow and he righted her accidental damage with a smile of love and pleasure. His skin darkened in the sun and his wasted muscles hardened with the exertion of outdoor exercise. There were still bad days; days when sadness and grief caught him unawares, slowing his footsteps and clouding his vision. Now he recognised them and accepted the pain, sharing it with Rosie when he was able and embracing her comfort when sharing was beyond him; rebuilding the intimacy and trust in slow but hopeful steps

One afternoon in September Sam came into the kitchen with a basket of freshly harvested produce from the garden and was surprised to see Rosie and Marigold up to their elbows in flour. Even Elanor had a corner of the table and was busy creating grubby delicacies out of bread dough.

“What’s going on, Lass?” he asked, his eyes travelling  from stove to pantry, taking in platters of food, his nose twitching at the delicious aromas of baking and roasting that filled the kitchen.

“Oh, we are just stocking up the larder,” said Rosie taking the basket out of his hands. “Don’t let us keep you from your chores!” she said, firmly shooing him back towards the door.

“Are you trying to get rid of me?”

“Of course not,” she said planting a soft kiss on his cheek, “but we have lots to do and no time to stand about gossiping.” Sam shrugged and returned to the garden, seeking sanctuary in his workshop, muttering under his breath about fussing women as he went.  It was there that Merry and Pippin found him several of hours later.

“Rosie said we would find you hiding in here…we didn’t get a very warm welcome in the kitchen…What’s going on?... Have you two had words again?” said Merry with a surreptitious wink at Pippin.

“Of course not!” was Sam’s outraged response. “We’ve been getting on grand…but something’s up. I don’t understand it… maybe I should go and talk to her…!”

“Best leave it for now,” said Pippin, “you know what lasses are like when they’re in that kind of a spin. There’s no talking too them! I vote we slip down to the Green Dragon and leave them to it! We haven’t had a drink together in ages!”

“You never need an excuse to sup ale, Pippin” said Merry, levering Sam towards the door, “but just this once I think you have the right idea.”

“What do you mean…just this once?”

“I’m not sure I should just disappear.”

“Oh, come on, Sam, live dangerously for once,” taunted Pippin, “show Rosie who’s boss!....you don’t need her permission to meet up with reliable, lifelong friends!”

“I do know who’s boss and I’m not sure you could be classed as reliable!” muttered Sam under his breath as they propelled him down the path.

***

The Green Dragon was quiet; the lunchtime trade had long since returned to their chores and it was too early for the early evening patrons. The barkeep was on his own, cleaning glasses and restocking the shelves.  Merry steered Sam towards the small parlour, leaving Pippin to order a jug of ale. The parlour was gloomy, a single lantern and the fading fire giving the only illumination.

“Well, it was more cheerful in my shed…is this the best you can do?” said Sam turning to Merry and shrugging his friends hand from his shoulder.

“Well that’s not a very friendly welcome to a friend who has travelled far to see you!”

“Gimli!... Upon my word…here’s a fine surprise!” the look of shock on Sam’s face was a picture that Merry would hold in his memory for ever.

From a quiet shadowed corner other eyes looked on at the reunion and noted with sadness the changes written so clearly on Sam’ face; he hair now peppered with grey, the shadowed eyes and the thinness of his face, the well remembered smile that now struggled to touch his eyes. Even on the Gladden Fields Sam had retained his bright spark of hope and optimism, but perceptive Elven eyes could see that the spark was diminished and struggled to maintain its glow. The Elf rose gracefully and moved into the light.

“I hope I too deserve such a warm welcome, Sam!”

“Legolas! It’s wonderful to see you… I had no idea…I don’t understand!  Do I?...What’s going on!” Happiness, confusion and bewilderment all struggling for mastery as he embraced the tall serene Elf.

“We both decided that we had been too long away from our Hobbit friends and when we heard the rumour of an approaching Hobbit celebration we decided that it wouldn’t be complete without a little Dwarvish or Elven influence…I hope you don’t mind us imposing on your hospitality!”

A look of horror spread over Sam’s face and he sat down heavily. He looked from face to face in panic. The date and the proposed celebration had completely slipped his mind. It had not been mentioned since Rosie’s return and in his effort to rebuild his marriage he had given it no thought. Pippin pushed a mug into his hand but he was shaking so much that most was spent into the floor.

“Don’t take on so, Sam, I told you I would see to it. Rosie has been a willing collaborator. You just have to come along and enjoy yourself!” said Merry.

“How could I have forgotten…I’ll never forgive myself… not one year has passed and I’d forgotten!” Merry put a comforting hand on his shoulder and turned Sam to face him.

“Sam this is not a wake! It’s a birthday party…just like the ones we had for Bilbo…it’s a celebration of Frodo’s life and the love we all shared. So no long faces and no unhappy thoughts… the party starts now!” Merry raised his mug. “To Frodo Baggins; friend and cousin, wherever you are!...Happy Birthday, may you live long in happiness and peace!”

 Mugs clinked together in salute.“To Frodo.”

******

*TBC*

The fire was burning low and the soft lamplight cast a soft glow. Rosie rested on the couch with her feet raised on a stool. She was exhausted but far too comfortable to want to move. She let her gaze wander slowly around the room, taking in the mixed company that relaxed in the warm afterglow of a fine Hobbit feast washed down with some of Sam’s excellent rose-petal wine.

She was fascinated by Gimli, the first Dwarf she had ever encountered. He was sprawled out in an easy chair, his feet thrust out in front and his hand resting protectively on the child curled up on his chest. His soft snores had lulled the child to sleep, her head resting on his chest, her hands tangled in the silky softness of his thick ginger beard. From the moment he had entered the burrow Elanor had fastened herself to him, ignoring even her favourite uncles. His gentle handling of the tiny Hobbit had caused much merriment, but he took the teasing in good heart and declined to abandon this new and unexpected role.

Rosie’s gaze turned to the Elf, Legolas, who had moved his chair close to the open window. His nose wrinkled occasionally as the fog of pipe smoke filled the air. He was as fair as she had expected an Elf to be. She lowered her eyes as the Elf caught her gaze. In truth, she felt rather intimidated by him--not that he had given her any cause to be. He was polite and courteous and his affection for the Hobbits was plain to see, but there was stillness and an air of serenity about him that she found hard to fathom.

Sam, Merry and Pippin were sitting propped up at the table, picking at the remnants of the feast and blowing smoke rings across the table. It had been an evening of laughter, despite Sam’s initial discomfort. With so much news and gossip to catch up on time passed quickly. Sam listened more than he spoke, but eventually even he was drawn into the conversation when it turned to the happenings in Minas Tirith and Osgiliath and news of the Royal Court and the Steward and his family.

When they turned the conversation to the happenings in the Shire, Sam wasn’t given the opportunity to sink back into his shell.  When Merry and Pippin began reminiscing about their escapades of the past Frodo’s name inevitably came up. Rosie held on to Sam’s hand and before long he too was smiling. When tears dampened his cheeks no one was sure if they were tears of sadness or laughter or a mixture of both.

A murmur from Elanor broke her reverie, and she pushed herself up with a sigh. Gently untangling the curled fingers from Gimli’s beard, she lifted the sleeping child onto her shoulder and bid the company a quiet goodnight. Within minutes the sleeping child was tucked up beneath her quilt.

****

Legolas stood in the kitchen doorway and watched as Rosie tidied up. She picked up a large pile of crockery to put in the pantry then sighed when she realised that the door was closed and she hadn’t a free hand to open it.

“Allow me, Mistress Rose.” Legolas unlatched the cupboard and relieved her of the plates. “It is too late for heavy work and you look tired!” He picked up a shawl and placed it around her shoulders.  “I could do with some fresh air, would you join me for a moment?”

They went out into the Garden and sat down on a bench. The lights of Hobbiton twinkled below them and moonlight frosted the trees with silver. They sat in silence drinking in the beauty and tranquillity of the night.

Rosie sighed. “It’s been a long day.”

“From what I hear, it has been a long year!” said Legolas quietly.

“It‘s not been the best of years,” she conceded. The understatement of her words spoke more eloquently than the words themselves.

“Merry wrote and told us about Sam. He was very worried by how badly Frodo’s departure had affected him. I can still see the grief written in his eyes.” Rosie turned her eyes to the stars, the painful memories still too close and raw for comfort.

“It was Merry who brought him back to me…He had gone so far into himself…I didn’t think he would ever find his way back.” Her voice was tight with strain. “It was all such a shock to Sam; he couldn’t or wouldn’t see what was happening in front of him. Frodo was so frail and ill…I tried to prepare him...He just wouldn’t see!” She shook her head to dispel the thoughts clamouring for her attention.

“And now?”

“Oh, he’s much improved, he even whistles sometimes when he’s working!” she said with a wistful smile.

They sat in quiet companionship for a while. Rosie broke the silence. “He never talks about the journey, about what he saw and did…I know it must have been terrible…” she clasped her hands together. “I think he is trying to protect me…he has some terrible dreams…” She shot a glance at Legolas and caught his gaze upon her, compassion and understanding in his night-sparkled eyes.

“Perhaps he seeks to protect you from that knowledge, to keep it out of your home…”

“But it’s not out, is it?” her cry full of anger and hurt. “It is right here in front of me. I am sure the imagining is nearly as bad as the reality… I can see and feel the fear…I’ve seen and heard him cry and scream in his sleep…It hurts me to see him in such pain but…he shuts me out!”

 Legolas put a comforting hand on her arm. He stilled for a moment and closed his eyes, a slow smile spreading across his features.

“And what about you, Mistress Rose, have you no secrets?” Rosie started in surprise, a warm heat flooded through her, lighting her face in a blush.

“I don’t…” she stammered. Legolas just smiled.

“How did you know?”

“It is hard to hide some things from Elven senses,” he said gently. “I take it Sam doesn’t yet know?”

“I was going to tell him soon…I can’t keep it a secret much longer!” she confirmed with a nervous smile, embarrassment flooding over her.

“Why the secrecy?  Do you think he will be unhappy with the news?”

“Oh, no. I’m sure he’ll be pleased. But I couldn’t tell him till now…he’s had too much to cope with. He has tried so hard these last few weeks to make things right between us; I couldn’t risk anything that might upset his recovery.” After a pause, Rose chuckled at a memory. “When I was expecting Elanor he nearly drove me mad with his worrying and fussing. In the end I had to get my Mamma to have a word with him; he would have had me resting in bed the whole time!”

“And was that the only reason for your silence?”

“Do you read minds.” she asked more sharply than she had intended.

“No, but I do sense that that is not the whole story, Mistress Rose.”

“I didn’t tell anyone…not even my Mamma, although I think she may have guessed. I’m sure you’ll think me silly but…well, while it was my secret I felt safe…that by keeping it to myself I could stop anything going wrong.” She placed her hands protectively over the swell of her abdomen. “…I couldn’t bear the thought of it going wrong…it would have been the final straw…!”

“And now?”

“I will tell him, he is recovered enough now to enjoy the prospect.” Legolas reached over and placed a hand gently on her stomach, his eyes lost their focus as he directed his senses on the sensations in his fingertips. He smiled.

“Do you wish to know if it is a girl or a boy?” he asked.

“Oh no, that would spoil the fun of waiting. I will wait until the child is in my arms.”

“Then I will tell you only that you shelter a happy, healthy child; a child with a gentle spirit who will bring you great joy.” Rose slumped down into the seat, releasing the tension that she hadn’t recognised was there.

“Thank you,” she whispered, leaning over and placing a light kiss on his cheek. “I am so glad that you are here and that we can count you as our friend.”

“It is a pleasure and an honour to have you all as friends and I believe that between us we can help put the light back in Sam’s eyes.”

Sam stood at the window, himself unseen, watching as Rosie went from tension to ease, though he couldn’t hear what was said. He smiled when he saw Rosie lean over and kiss Legolas. “Well, Lad,” he muttered to himself. “There’s a thing; an hour ago she could barely talk to him and now it’s like they’ve been friends for ever. I wonder what new conspiracy they’re planning.”

***

Lunchtime found the friends out beneath the party tree. It had taken a large wheelbarrow to transport the ample picnic from Bag End, Legolas and Gimli no longer surprised by the quantity of food provided, or by how quickly it was consumed. Legolas stirred from his post meal stupor, and pulled a bulging sack from beneath the barrow.

“I believe it is a Shire custom to exchange gifts when celebrating a birthday. I was entrusted to bring some with me…may I distribute them now?” He delved within the bag and drew out two rolls of parchment, each secured with a royal seal. He handed one to Merry and one to Pippin.

“A letter from Aragorn!” exclaimed Pippin excitedly.

“Mine is from Faramir and Eowyn,”

“Aren’t you going to read them then?” asked Sam.

“Oh, let’s see what else Legolas is hiding first,”  said Pippin, eager to see what other delights lurked in the bag.

The next package was for Elanor. Legolas placed the bag into her lap and they all watched in silence as she examined the blue velvet bag, held closed with gold braid. The bag was heavy and the contents knocked together with a dull rattle. Rosie released the ties and pulled open the bag. Elanor upended the contents into her skirts, and three lumps of smooth grey stone fell out. She picked up the largest stone and examined it closely, with a puzzled expression, before handing it to her Father. The stone fitted comfortably within his palm. It was fashioned from a soft grey rock, carved and smoothed and highly polished.

“Why, it’s an Oliphaunt,” he exclaimed in wonder. The shape had been carved and smoothed into rounded contours. The eyes were set with semi-precious stones that sparkled in the afternoon sun. Sam handed the stone to Rosie and looked at the other two. They were all identical, except in size; the smallest nested within Elanor’s small fist. “Why Ellie, you have a family of Oliphaunts… look there is a Dadda, a Mamma and a baby.”

“Why, but they’re odd-looking creatures, and no mistake,” exclaimed Rosie. “They’re not a bit how I imagined them!” She turned the toy and examined it from every angle. “They look quite harmless.”

“Not when they are bigger than a tree and bellowing in anger.” Sam shuddered at the memory. “This is just a child’s toy”. Elanor retrieved the three animals and set about playing with them in the grass.

The next parcel was for Rosie. Hers too was wrapped in a covering of blue velvet. She slipped the cover off and held a large book bound in soft, brown leather, the binding embossed and gilded with a decoration of rambling roses. She was too stunned to speak. Reverently, she opened the book and gasped as she beheld its contents. Each page contained an exquisite and detailed illustration of a plant or flower, for each picture there were instructions for cultivation and use, and tucked within a flap a small paper packet containing seeds.

“This can’t be for me” she whispered, “It’s far too fine….I can’t even read all the words.”

“Nothing’s too fine for you, Mistress Rose, and I’m sure Sam or Merry will help you, if you need help with the instructions.” Legolas reassured her with a smile.

This appeared to be the end of the gift giving. Merry and Pippin read out their letters and Rosie and Sam sat together looking at the flower book. After a while Gimli and Pippin wandered off on a little adventure with Elanor, and those remaining relaxed in the shade of the Party tree. Sam lay down next to Rosie and rested his arm across his face, teetering on the edge of sleep. He was aware of Merry and Legolas talking quietly to each other but he tuned out their words, lost in his own thoughts. Elanor’s toy had jolted his memory back to the encounter with the Rangers and Lord Faramir in Ithilien. He fought to suppress the sudden tightness in his chest as unwanted feelings and fears crowded in on him. He barely noticed that Merry had moved closer or that Rosie had slipped her hand into his.

“Tell us, Sam!”

Sam wanted desperately to feign sleep and to avoid what could only be a painful discussion. He tried to relax his breathing but his attempts did not convince his watching friends. He kept his face hidden beneath his arm.

“There is nothing to tell, the past is past and talking will not change it…leave it where it belongs,” he pleaded.

“And is that working, Sam?” Merry’s voice was quiet, but insistent.

“It’s the best I can manage.”

“No, Sam, it’s not! Why will you not talk to us and share this burden? It does you no good to keep it locked inside. Fear and pain are like a wild animal, the closer you cage them the wilder and more dangerous they become…. You don’t have to face this on your own.”

“Maybe I do! Maybe it’s a lesson I learned too well on the road!” There was a shocked silence as they absorbed the implication of his words. “I was on my own…I didn’t have anyone to turn to, did I?” There was no accusation in his tone, just defeat and regret. “You and Pippin had each other and Mr Frodo had me…I had to be strong…I had to keep him going…that was what I was there for.” He drew a shuddering breath and sat up with a jolt.

“I promised the Elves and Gandalf that I would look after him… they trusted me! But it wasn’t enough, was it!...Do you  really want to know what it was like, what I felt? Well, I was scared; every minute of every day I was scared, so scared that some days I could scarcely put one foot in front of the other,  too scared to move, too scared to sleep and then too scared to open my eyes in the morning and have to face another day of pretending that I was alright. And every day he went further and further away from me till he scarcely knew or cared that I was there. I wasn’t brought up to do brave deeds, to be a hero or be a mighty warrior…I’m just a gardener, a plain and simple gardener…” his voice trailed off and he buried his face in his hands. Rosie broke the stunned and awkward silence. She knelt in front of Sam and taking his face in her hands she pulled his face up to hers.

“You are a hero to me, Sam Gamgee,” she said holding his gaze and looking deep into his eyes. She brushed away the tears on his cheek and smiled at him sadly. “Courage isn’t about not being scared, or  about wielding a  mighty sword, it’s about recognising your fear and going on regardless…you did what had to be done and you did it willingly, out of love and devotion…I know you would have laid down your life for Frodo without a second thought. I love you, Sam, not for what you’ve done but for who you are…and don’t you ever forget it!”

“Can you forgive us, Sam?” Legolas’ voice quivered as he spoke. “We failed you… we didn’t recognise your distress…we should have offered you our support… we took you for granted… You seemed so strong…I’m so sorry.” Sam reached out a hand and squeezed his arm, a nod of understanding passing between them.  Merry was not so restrained; he reached over and embraced husband and wife together.

“It’s partly your own fault,” he said shakily a few moments later. Before anyone could remonstrate with him, he went on. “Sam, you can’t spend all your life giving yourself body and soul to others and not looking out for your own needs! If you don’t tell people you’re hurting or that you need something from them, how are they to know? We are not mind readers, you know!”

Sam smiled, sheepishly. “I’ll try to remember that, but you may need to keep reminding me.”

 Legolas looked on quietly and then reached once more for his bag; he pulled out another velvet wrapped parcel and handed it to Sam.

“Queen Arwen sent this for you, Sam.” It was a book, almost identical in appearance to the flower book except that the binding of leather was black. Sam opened it: the pages were all of blank white parchment. He looked up in confusion.

“It is for you to fill, Sam. It can be a journal, a memoir, a note book, whatever you want. Sometimes it is easier to write down what you feel or fear than to voice it out loud…keep it private or share it; your thoughts are just as important as anything in Bilbo and Frodo’s book!” Sam clasped the book to his chest then and his tears flowed without restraint.

“How…how did she know?” he gasped through his tears.

“She has had her own burdens to carry, Sam. You are not the only one to grieve for those who journeyed over the Sea!” 

****

Later in the afternoon as the autumn sun slipped behind the hill the party slowly made their way back up to Bag End. Rosie and Sam lingered behind and savoured a few moments of companionable peace. As they watched the sunset fading into evening, Sam took Rosie by the hand and turned her to face him.

“Rosie, can I ask you something?” She nodded. “Were you ever going to tell me? Or were you intending to surprise me when the Midwife knocked on the door!” She looked at him and grinned.

“How long have you known?”

“A fair while.  I can count well enough and I have eyes in my head…When is it to be?”

She kissed him deeply. “I recon early in the New Year… are you pleased?”  she asked a little uncertainly. His answering kiss left her breathless.

“Come on, Love. Let’s go home”

*****

TBC

 A/N  Many thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed.

A special thanks also to Shirebound for her help and input with this chapter.

The midsummer sun beat down on the busy roadway leading to the Brandywine Bridge. Sam brought the cart to a standstill amid the press of mounted and walking Hobbits, all making their way to the broad pasture beyond the river. Sam sat high on the driving bench, reigns held loosely in his hands, exchanging greetings with the many friends who shared the same road and the same destination. All the residents of the Shire had been invited, by Royal Proclamation, to attend a celebration and to meet their new King. Rosie was seated comfortably in the back of the wagon with the children, sheltered from the midday sun by a canopy stretched over willow struts. Elanor, a golden, grown up lass of four summers, watched with wide-eyed excitement, giving a constant commentary to her mother of all she could see. Frodo lad slept against his mother’s skirts, his thumb in his mouth, his curls plastered damply around his face. Rosie rested against cushions for comfort, the new baby cradled in her arms.

Sam urged the ponies on slowly as the press of the crowd moved forward. Just beyond the bridge the throng was halted at a guard point, liveried guards checking and directing the Hobbits towards a field set aside to accommodate tents and stabling.  When he reached the front of the queue, Sam handed a roll of parchment to the guard, who on reading the inscription promptly saluted.

“Greetings, Master Gamgee. I was instructed to look out for you.  If you will excuse me for a moment, I will arrange for you to be escorted to the Royal Pavilion.” The guard called over to a companion and together they moved aside the barrier and led the cart through.  The second guard climbed up beside Sam and directed him across the pasture and up a gentle rise towards an area cordoned off for the Royal Party.

Elanor woke Frodo and they gazed about in silent wonder. At the lower end of the pasture were brightly coloured merchant tents and stalls, flags and banners fluttering in the breeze. The central area was open space and at the bottom of the rise long trestle tables had been set up to accommodate the expected throng. Large marquees housed those engaged in cooking the feast, the smell of baking bread and roasting meat filled the air and set Hobbit stomachs rumbling.

The cart was brought to a standstill in front of a large and lavish, tented pavilion, festooned with banners and surmounted by the Royal Standard. Rosie was rendered speechless with wonder and apprehension; Sam gave her a reassuring hug as he helped her and the children down.

“This way, Sir. Don’t worry about baggage and cart, they will be attended to.” The guard led them in through the curtained entrance and announced them to their Royal hosts and the assembled guests.

Guiding Rosie, and holding the children’s hands, Sam stepped forward and bowed. The King and Queen stood side by side, tall and regal, and as fair as Sam had remembered them. Sam was conscious of the King’s keen and perceptive gaze upon him, scrutinizing his countenance and searching his face looking for signs of change.

“King Elessar, Queen Arwen, may I present my wife Rose, my daughter Elanor, Frodo and baby Rose. Rosie blushed and bobbed a flustered curtsy, desperately trying to soothe Rose, whose cries of hunger threatened to drown out all conversation and hindered by Frodo Lad who had hidden his face in her skirts and was clinging on as if his life depended on it.

“Rosie it is a pleasure to welcome you; Sam, it is too long since last we met.”  The King stepped forward and kissed Rosie’s hand in a formal gesture of welcome and then kissed her forehead in affectionate greeting. Arwen, seeing her discomfort, swept over and putting a comforting arm around her shoulder, drew her over to an area set aside for comfort, furnished with rugs, cushions and comfortable seating.

“Make yourself at home, Rosie, I can see the baby requires your attention”

Thank you, My Lady; I’m afraid she is not shy about letting her needs be known!”

“It’s a pleasure to have you here and to get to know you all better; and please call me Arwen.  We are all friends here, please relax and enjoy yourself. We have heard much of your charms from your friends over there,” she said with a smile, pointing to the far side of the room.  Merry and Pippin had drawn Sam and Elanor into the midst of the assembled company.  The King, Legolas and Gimli were all seated around the table, mugs of ale in their hands. The conversation was loud and full of laughter. Elanor had been lifted up to sit on the table between Legolas and Gimli, her legs dangling down as she captivated them with her description of the journey.

There was so much news and gossip to catch up on that the afternoon passed quickly. Sam was quietly observing the friends around the table when he saw Arwen rise from her place beside Rosie and walk across the room towards him. He was suddenly reminded of a promise he had given several years before. Acting on the impulse of the moment and before his courage failed him, he stood up, pulled over a footstool and climbed up onto it. As Arwen approached he hailed her quietly.

“My Lady.” He extended his hand to draw her forward. Arwen smiled and looked at him quizzically; surprised by the uncharacteristic boldness of his actions but eager to hear what it was he had to say. She stepped in front of him and waited as he raised his gaze to hers. Sam was oblivious to the silence and surprise that had settled over the company as they watched the tableaux unfolding before them. Raising his hands he placed them on Arwen’s shoulders and gently pulling her towards him he kissed her on each cheek and then on her forehead. She had hardly time to react before he lowered his head and whispered quiet words that only she could hear. Her reaction was immediate; tears sprang to her eyes and she lowered her head onto his shoulder, raising her arms to embrace him tightly. He returned the embrace as she sobbed quietly against him. The silence in the room thickened as the King got to his feet.

“Sam, what is the meaning of this!” The king’s words were icily quiet but his face was stern as he stood beside his wife. Sam dropped his arms and let his eyes fall to the floor as Arwen released him and turned away to compose herself. She reassured the King with a sad smile and a light embrace and moved away to her private chamber. The King turned back to Sam, awaiting an explanation.

“Well, Sam!” Sam remained still until the King stood right before of him, only raising his head when he felt the King’s breath ruffle his hair. His heart was hammering in his chest and he had to brace his knees to stay upright. He slowly raised his eyes to meet the frosty gaze of the King.

“I was asked to deliver a message and a greeting, Sire,” he said in a hesitant and slightly shaky tone.

“Then I suggest you deliver it without delay!” Sam was suddenly reminded of the grim-faced ranger in the Prancing Pony. He smiled at the recollection, and taking his courage in his hands he embraced the King, bestowing kisses of salutation on his cheeks and brow.  The King braced himself at the unexpected display of intimacy but Sam held his gaze and retained a grip on his shoulders.

“I travelled with Frodo on his journey to the Grey Havens,” he began by way of explanation. “It was a difficult journey…” he paused, suddenly caught up by the poignancy of the memory. Taking a deep, steadying breath he continued, “I knew I could no longer keep him safe…that I had to let him go…and it was so hard!” Sam paused again, his eyes never leaving the face of the King as he battled for mastery over his own fragile emotions. He saw the sternness replaced by a look of deep compassion and felt a comforting hand on his shoulder urging him to continue. “Lord Elrond vowed that he would care for Frodo and look after him in my stead.” Silent tears ran crept down his face as he spoke; he brushed them away roughly on the sleeve of his jacket. “As one father to another he asked me to stand in his stead when next we met and for me to pass on to you his love and his blessing.  He asked me to tell you that not a day would go by that you…you were not…not in his thoughts.” Unable to control the flood of emotions that overwhelmed him, Sam tried to pull away but all movement was prevented by the bear-tight embrace that held him pinioned. It took several minutes for him to regain his composure.

 He was suddenly aware of the deathly, uneasy silence that filled the room; he looked about and saw the shock and discomfort of his family and friends. He looked back to the King, and filled with mortification whispered, “I’m sorry, I meant no offence…I didn’t mean to embarrass you or your guests.” He jumped down before the King could reply and rushed for the entrance, bumping into a guard as he went.

“Aragorn!” Legolas had risen to his feet and moved towards the King. “You can’t leave it like that! Shall I go after him?”

“Peace, my friends. Give him a few minutes privacy, and then I will go and find him. Bravery comes in many guises and I think that display took even Sam by surprise.”

***

Sam was lying on the ground beneath a large oak tree, in a small copse behind the Royal Pavilion. He gazed up at the leaves as they moved in the afternoon breeze; dappled sunlight played across his vision and the soft whisper of the leaves soothed him with their quiet song. He wondered if the King would ever forgive him.

“You still grieve, Sam?” He hadn’t heard the quiet footfall as the king approached and he made to rise but a hand on his shoulder urged him to be still. The King settled next to him with his back against the tree.

“Ay, a bit… but it’s not grieving so much now as…well just missing him. I think of things I want to share with him, things that would have made him laugh, seeing his eyes light up or that wicked grim spread across his face.  I guess it’s the old Frodo I miss; Frodo before the Ring, when everything was simple and easy and I was happy to be just a gardener and he was just Frodo Baggins, Master of Bag End.  I guess that must sound daft- like a child wishing for the moon!”

“Not so silly, Sam. Shall I let you in to a secret? There are days when I long to dig out my old clothes and become Strider again…to disappear into the wilderness with only a horse for company and never have to sit through another council meeting or meet another trade delegation or be nice to people whom I would never willingly invite into my home.” They sat in silence, each contemplating what had been lost and what had been gained, and the price that had been paid.

 Their quiet reverie was interrupted by a quiet cough from nearby. “This all looks very cosy, but poor Rosie is in there worrying herself into a tizzy thinking maybe you’ve been clapped in irons for upsetting the King and Queen. I think you should come back and put her mind at rest!” Merry stood with his hands on his hips and regarded the King and the Hobbit with a look of feigned annoyance. “And Sam, that is not the sort of behaviour we expect from the next Mayor of Hobbiton! Next time you plan to upset the Queen and accost the King could you please give me prior warning!  I nearly had a heart attack in there and poor Gimli is still choking on his beer!

“Did I ever say I wanted to be the next Mayor of Hobbiton?” said Sam with a degree of exasperation

“Look, Sam, we have been through this before. It wasn’t my idea-which is a surprise since it is such a good idea,” he continued with his usual brand of cocky self-confidence. “Frodo set it in motion; he proposed you and did all the paperwork to set it on a proper footing- and you wouldn’t want to go against his wishes, now would you?” Sam gave up with a shrug, knowing he had been backed into a corner from which he couldn’t escape.

“Looks like it is back to work,” said the King with a grin, as he helped Sam to his feet. “No peace for the wicked, hey Sam?”

“Then I must ‘ave been very wicked” muttered Sam to himself as he followed them back to the Pavilion.

***

Late into the night, Sam sat at a small desk and by the light of a small lantern wrote of the day’s events in his journal. His head was so full of thoughts and memories that his hand had difficulty in keeping up as he poured them out onto the page.  He still felt slightly heady from the fine wine served at the banquet, but what filled his heart had occurred after the feast. A herald had blown a fanfare and the gathered host had settled into silence as the King got to his feet to address the assembled company. His speech had not been long; he greeted and thanked the Hobbits for their welcome and reaffirmed his commitment of protection and support of the Shire. Then he called forward Merry, Pippin and Sam and proclaimed and honoured them for their courage and actions during the fight against the Darkness. Finally, to Sam’s joy and delight, the King called forth a minstrel who sang to the gathered company the song the three Hobbits had first heard on the Field of Cormallen-‘Frodo of the Nine Fingers and the Ring of Doom’. As on his first hearing, Sam listened with tears in his eyes, Rosie’s hand clasped tightly. His joy was that now all of the Hobbits of the Shire would know and begin to understand the enormity of the quest Frodo had undertaken and the price he had paid.  No longer would the traveller’s tales be dismissed as stories; the primacy of the King placed a stamp of authority that none would dare to discount.  At that moment, Sam had felt the last vestiges of pain and anguish melt away. He turned to the King and bowed; his happiness and joy lighting up his face. The King had acknowledged his thanks with a smile and a nod; words were not needed, for he understood.

Now as the lantern light flickered, Rosie padded over quietly. ”Come to bed, Sam, it’s very late and we have a long road home tomorrow.” She looked over his shoulder as he closed the precious book and saw the inscription inside the front cover:

The thoughts of Samwise Gangee.

Memories for a friend.

“Ay, Rosie, it’s a long road, but we’ll get there, in the end.”

THE END.

********

A/N According to the Appendix B, the visit of King Elessar to the Brandywine did not occur until 15 years after Frodo’s departure. I have invented this earlier visit for the purposes of my story.

Many thanks to everyone who has encouraged and offered me support over the last few months. I appreciate ever review and comment. Special thanks to Kay and Puxinette who have been with me from the beginning, and to Shirebound for kindly ironing out the wrinkles in my spelling and punctuation and always having a kind word- Thank you.

Helen