Bag End, Late Autumn, 1420

“What are you doing, dear?” Sam asked as he watched Frodo drag up a crib from the cellar. He immediately reached to help him the rest of the way.

“This, my Sam, is for my niece,” the elder hobbit said proudly, though a little out of breath. “I slept in this and so did Bilbo and so did many other of my cousins before and after me. I would be honored if your children would sleep in it also.”

Sam looked at his dear one’s face. There were two bright pink spots on his cheeks from the effort it had taken to bring the crib up and Sam fretted about that since he knew his beloved master had not recovered the strength the Quest had robbed him of. But he did not fret long for Frodo’s face was shining. There was no hint of the pain and lack of peace that he had suffered from for so long. There was only love and joy there and a smile to lit up the world. Sam touched that smile in wonder.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured.

Frodo kissed his brother’s fingers. “That’s all your doing, my Sam.”

Sam could have lost himself in that shining face forever, but he looked back at the crib. “I would be most honored for my son to rest there, my dear. Thank you.”

Frodo smiled. “Then it’s settled! I’ll paint it fresh and clean it up so it is perfect. Nothing but the best for my niece!”

Sam smiled. They had been having this talk for a long time. For some reason, Frodo was absolutely insistent that the child growing within Rose was a lass, but Sam really wanted his first one to be a lad so he could name him after his beloved dear.

Frodo rubbed his hand along the rail. “She’s going to be so beautiful, my Sam,” he said softly. “You are going to have so many and what a joy it will for me to know that they will be all resting here.”

There was a wistfulness to that voice that Sam was well aware of and his worries returned. So many times he had watched his treasure when Frodo didn’t think anyone was aware and there was longing in his master-brother just like it had been there before they left the first time. The slow walking over fields and meadows, the long glances at a favorite place, the soft muttering he didn’t know anyone heard, the caresses to trees or to books in the study. It was as though he was trying to prepare himself to leave again, but Sam told himself it was only because he would be leaving to see Mr. Bilbo again at some point.

When Frodo looked up at Sam again, he was smiling again, and though there was some sadness lingering there, there was also the most tender love. He hugged his beloved guardian tight. “I’m so happy for you, dearest Sam, so very happy for you. Thank you for making me an uncle.”

Frodo laid his head against his shoulder. Sam held his beloved for a long while, rocking gently. There was no sadness now in Frodo’s voice, no tenseness in his body. There was contentment and if becoming an uncle was what did it, Sam would fill the Shire with children so his Frodo would always be happy.

“You’re welcome, my dear,” he said with a kiss to that dear head. “Thank you for what you did so I could become a father.”

The next several weeks were filled with chores that Frodo set for himself “so that my niece will be born in the most beautiful smial there ever was!” First he painted and cleaned the crib so it looked almost brand new, but for one part that Sam had stopped him from fixing on the railing where Frodo had confessed that his parents had told him that he had gnawed at it when his teeth were coming in. There was tiny marks there and Sam had touched them, thinking how happy he was that his children would be resting in a place where his beloved had also. “Leave those there, dear,” he had said just as Frodo had raised his brush to paint it.

Next, he and Rose cleaned up the bedroom where she and Sam slept, aired out everything and spread new linens. Sam had wanted to help but they had shooed him away, smiling at each other as though they shared a big secret.

Frodo also spent much time sprucing up his own bedroom. “For this will be yours, Sam, and you and Rose should have the very best.”

Sam watched, pondering what Frodo meant, concerned that his master and brother was going to overexert himself, and though the erstwhile Ring-bearer did show signs of fatigue, there was also more life to his features than there had been in too long a time. All the activity helped Frodo sleep better too and Sam was very grateful for that, for he knew the night was the worst time for his treasure, sometimes the worst time for himself.

There had been too many nights already that Frodo cried out in his sleep and Sam came running. Other times it was he who cried and Rose held him or Frodo did. There were other times when Sam would rise, just to check on him, and find him laying wide awake, bathed his own moonlight, his fist firmly in his mouth so he would not wake anyone. Other times Frodo would found Sam that way. Each time, one or the other gently relaxed the clenched fist, kissed the dear hand and held it until the fears passed and the tears were wiped and sleep came again. Another soft kiss to the brow would be given before the comforter would seek sleep for himself. Rarely would words be spoken for none were necessary, though at times lullabies would be softly sung as curls were gently stroked and “It’s all right, dearest, it’s all right” was murmured until believed.

Rose sometimes watched such love expressed and always felt it to be a sacred act coming from whatever they had experienced so far from the Shire. They were both very close whenever it came to discussing that and those times of comfort during the dark night were almost the only times she glimpsed just a little of it. She felt most times an intruder for she doubted they were even aware she was there. They were back on their Road, wherever that had been, out in the dark, with only each other for company and comfort. Whatever had happened had brought them closer than ever and Rose was very glad for that, that they had each other still to give aid that only the other could. She tried, but their Sam was the only one who could truly comfort Mr. Frodo and Mr. Frodo the only one who could truly comfort their Sam when the terrible memories came. The other time Rose saw what had happened was whenever she looked into those sad but still lovely eyes of Mr. Frodo. But there was little sadness for those glorious weeks Frodo busied himself around the smial.

The front door had a coat of fresh green paint and the knob shined. Sam wondered if Frodo would catch cold since he always shivered now even in the summer, but it seemed all the activity kept him warm enough. The entire hole was swept out and the cellar stocked with wine, tea, leaf and wood to last for a long while. Frodo sorted out the baby goods that remained in trunks down there.

“My first nightshirt!” he said one day, coming up from there and triumphantly holding out a small, white shirt with lace around it. “My mother sewed this herself. It should look well on a lass, if you would like to use it, my Sam.”

“It would be perfect for my lad, dear, thank you,” Sam said with a smile.

Frodo smiled and went off to do his next chores which was sweeping the front walk and oiling the hinge to the gate. Sam was quite out of work for he had already sent the garden to sleep and Frodo excitedly did everything else himself or had assistance from Rose. It was wonderful for the younger hobbit to see his treasure back to himself and all the extra work was also keeping him from laboring over the book he was writing, which Sam thought was a good thing. While he had working on it, Frodo relived the same bad memories during the night. It was pleasant to have him take a break from that, even though he knew Frodo would return to it.

The study was not abandoned all together, however. After Frodo and Rose had made sure the larder was stocked with every good thing, he had scurried off to dust the books in the study and to place everything just right. The room had been rather a mess before, and neither Bilbo nor Frodo had ever tried to fix it or even allow Sam to mess with it. “I know where everything is, my lad,” Bilbo had said once, though Sam had not been always entirely sure of that since he sometimes heard his master, one or the other, mutter, “Where is that dratted paper?”or some such. But always, soon after would come, “Ah! There it is.”and Sam would know the words were true after all. Frodo had not changed anything when he had become master of Bag End, partly because he wanted to leave it just as Bilbo had, out of fond memory and a longing not to have things change too much.

But now everything was better organized. The books on the shelves were stacked neatly instead of haphazardly and with care to topic and size. The tables were cleared where before there had been so many books stacked Sam had thought it a marvel that they had never spilled over. He had always feared one day that he would hear a huge crash and find one furry foot stuck under the pile, if he saw even that. But it had never come to be. The maps that had been strewn around were all now carefully mounted and placed on the walls. Scrolls were neatly rolled and stored. The ink jars and quills were neatly placed on the writing desk, ready to be used. That was in fact the only thing that Frodo hadn’t needed to change for he and Bilbo had always been very careful with their writing tools.

Sam looked in wonder at the transformed room when Frodo was at last done with it, sitting exhausted but happy in on a long bench, a dusting cloth still in his hand. Sam was a little sad though, because it seemed the character had gone out of the room. He had spent his whole life with seeing it a disheveled mess, and now realized how beloved that mess had been because his masters had made it and loved it.

“I wonder how I shall ever find anything again!” Frodo said wearily. “But the place should not be mess for my nieces and nephews, nor for you, my Sam. I should have done this long ago, before you and Rosie came. But it’s done now and it will be a good room for everyone to use.”

The younger hobbit sat down next to his master, on the same bench that he had learned his lessons with Mr. Bilbo. “Thank you, dear,” he said. “I hope they will find just as many adventures here as we did.”

“And they’ll be easier to find now too!” Frodo said.

Sam looked around now with different eyes. The magic had not left the room, not entirely. It was just rearranged. The books were still there and the maps and the scrolls. The adventures that they had delved into as eager lads were still there, waiting for another generation to discover them.

“I made a shelf just for you, Sam,” Frodo said, “with the poems you wrote as lads and the stories we made up. I know all the bairns will love to hear them so I wanted to make sure you would know where to find them. And,” here his eyes twinkled with mischief and Sam marveled at it, “since I know you will be too humble to show them yourself, I also made sure Rosie knows where they are too. Such beauty should not be left out.” Frodo laid his head on his Sam’s shoulder. “I would have them with me always if I could.”

There was a hint of that wistfulness again at the end, but Sam did not fret very much over it. His master was happy and that was the only thing that mattered. No, the magic hadn’t left. He put his arm around his Frodo and Frodo placed his head on Sam’s shoulder.

“You will have such a wonderful life, my Sam, such a wonderful life.”

Sam kissed his head. “Because of you, dearlove. Thank you for all you’ve done.”

“I could not have done it without you.”

“Don’t know about that, dear. You did all this without me.”

“It is returning a gift, my brother, in the only way I can since I could never match the depth and beauty of your gift.”

“You have already, dearest, just be being here with me.”

The two sat quietly together. Frodo could not bear to tell his Sam that the decision had already been made that they would be parting in the autumn. But he also didn’t want to leave Sam’s heart totally unprepared so he gave what veiled hints he could, to be understood at the proper time.

Frodo wrapped his arms around his beloved guardian. “Yes, my Sam, we shall ever be together,” he said and it was no lie, for he knew, he hoped, that their hearts would ever be united and in that space, they would always be together, even with all the Sea between them.