This is a response to the lotr_community challenge fic "Spring Fever" with the herb of echinacea/coneflower in March 2017. Loved exploring this fic and maybe it can be something even longer that i started years ago. (if i can find it in my computer).  Also, some quoted material is directly lifted from Lord of the Rings, so it's from our dear Professor so that is a disclaimer. 

Hope everyone enjoys and if want something longer and substantial, please let me know! Thanks for reading!

Also, special thanks to grey_wonderer for her encouragement and shirebound for her beta! <3 <3

“I am learning a lot about Sam Gamgee on this journey.  First he was a conspirator, now he’s a jester.  He’ll end up by becoming a wizard-- or a warrior!” --Frodo, Fellowship of the Ring

Taking care of the Shire after the ruffians were rounded up and dismissed to their homes South was a bigger job than the hobbits anticipated.  Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin all had their parts in cleaning up the Shire.  Frodo was in charge of making sure the Shirriffs were back in their rightful place, keeping them to the amount that they were before the Troubled Times, as the hobbits referred to the year in which Frodo and his friends were absent.  Frodo was thus named Deputy Mayor for Mr. Whitfoot was in no shape to guide the hobbits at his malnourished state.

Merry and Pippin took care of the deceased and their families and helped with funeral arrangements, as well as taking care of those that had been freed from the Lockholes.  They also chased down the rest of the ruffians and it was soon done.  In addition, they had business within their own families to take care of.  Their absences from their families were felt when they were gone for a year.

Sam took on the large task of ordering the Shire and the clean up.  He organized groups of hobbits and made sure certain trees and flowers were replanted.

“We can’t have the Shire not looking like our Shire,” he said mournfully and worked tirelessly on all the gardening projects that he set his sights on, overseeing six large groups of helpers in the four different parts of the Shire.

The Party Tree’s demise and the wreck that Bagshot Row had sustained was a pain to Sam’s heart more than anyone could imagine.  Hobbits worked hard and industriously, but none harder than Sam. The damage that the ruffians caused went far and wide, Sam wanted to restore every part of the Shire as it had been before the war, or even better.  The first major projects were clearing of the HIll and bag End, the restoration of Bagshot row, and replanting the trees.  Sam also had his mind to set Bag End right for his master before Spring.  Number 3 had to be fixed up for his old Gaffer.

“This is our home, Mr. Frodo. We are going to set a’right again.”

“Yes we will, Sam; we will do it together.” Frodo felt as pained as Sam did and supported all Sam’s efforts.  Sam also knew that someone had to lead the Shire’s other efforts to calm down the hobbits and let them know that things should go back to pre-Sharkey times as soon as possible.

He worked tirelessly the entire winter even when the weather went chill, he did not mind for he knew he had to work harder now in order to feel the fruits of his labor in Spring.  His hard work did not go unnoticed, however, and Rosie and Frodo both started to get concerned especially since even in Yule, Sam did not stop to check up on all the efforts while many hobbits had already stopped for the holidays.

“Sam,” said Rosie one day after a long twelve hour day, “you have to take care of yourself or you’re going to come down with something.”  Sam and Frodo had been staying with the Cottons until Bagshot Row and Bagend was restored.

“I’m feeling fine, Rosie, no need to worry,” Sam tried to flash his best smile.  He had been feeling tired lately but assumed it was because of the work that he’d done.  He along with his hobbits had planted seeds all throughout Hobbiton and he was going to travel tomorrow to see how the planting of other areas of the Shire was going.  He missed every part of the gardening tasks for each season and wasn’t going to stop.  

In addition to cleaning and revamping the Shire, renovating it, Sam scurried about doing the typical tasks and especially the labor of repair because the damage was so extensive.

“Sam, you don’t have to work seven days straight. Take a break tomorrow and just relax at home,” added Frodo.

But Sam did not listen.  He felt responsible for what happened to the Shire in his absence. Hadn’t he seen into Galadriel’s mirror and knew that something may have happened? What if he didn’t continue on the Quest and did return to the Shire to warn his fellow kinsmen? The Party Tree would still be there.  Not as many hobbit lives would’ve been taken in the Battle of Bywater.

So Sam worked through January and February, the chilliest months.  His Gaffer finally returned to Number Three because of Sam’s hard work and Sam was glad about it.  His old Gaffer was pleased at his son and Sam was happy his hard work was going somewhere.

“It’s an ill wind as blows nobody no good, as I always say.  And All’s well as ends Better!” ***

Early March was still very chilly.   There was even a late snow storm which kept the ground wet.  Little gardening work could be done but Sam and some hobbits  still kept busy, getting rid of sheds, cleaning up and restoring Bag End instead.  

One morning in late March, Sam felt more tired than usual when he woke up.  He hadn’t slept well, enduring  dreams of shadow and ash, culminating in two shadowy figures seeming to fight to their deaths, and before he had a chance to scream, he woke, only to fall fitfully back asleep.  His throat hurt and he had a bit of a runny nose, so he packed more handkerchiefs than usual in his bag that he would use for his gardening. He got up uncharacteristically late and Rosie and Frodo noticed.

“Sam, are you alright?” Rosie called out to him before he had a chance to dash outside.

“You don’t look too well and you didn’t have any breakfast yet,” Frodo added, his face full of worry.

“Yes, i’m a’right.  I have some--”

Both of them sat Sam down to the nearest chair.  His cheeks were flushed and his skin was warm to the touch.  

“You have a fever, Sam.  You are very warm,” said Frodo fervently as he felt his friend’s forehead.  “You have to stay home today.”

“I do feel a bit… tired, is all,” replied Sam unconvincingly.  “I am fine though.  I don’t have time today.”

“No, Sam- i think you ought to--”

“You don’t understand,” he pleaded, “I can’t stay home. There are more projects by the Party Tree that needs clearing out before--”

“Sam, relax. You don’t have to do everything at one time!  There are other hobbits that can help.  Please stay home with us, just today,” insisted Rosie.

Sam was caught between a rock and a hard place.  Both Rosie and Frodo were treating him as he never got sick before.  He had, and it was no big deal.  Why were they so insistent on treating him like a hobbit lad? It was just a cold.  He was starting to get frustrated, but that made his tiredness turn into a headache.  And it did seem warmer than before.

Before he could protest further, Frodo brought him a steaming mug of tea.

“What’s this?” asked Sam as he sniffed it.  The tea didn’t look like regular tea-- it was darker in color and smelled odd.

“This is willow bark, just to be on safe side.  If you do have a fever, it will help aid it,” said Frodo, handing it out to his friend.

“You’ve been warm since yesterday and we watched you even though you didn’t know,” added Rosie.

“If i drink this, you both have to let me get to work.  I am already running late-- is that a deal?” Sam hated bargaining but he couldn’t say no to both master and the hobbit lass he loved.  

Neither Rosie nor Frodo seemed like they were going to let Sam out the door.  Their eyes were fixed on Sam drinking his medicine.

Sam obediently gulped down some of the tea-- it tasted awful.  And it didn’t help that his sore throat made it hard to swallow.

“Does your throat hurt too?” guessed Rosie gently.  “I couldn’t help but noticing your appetite waning since last night and am guessing you are having the start of a nasty flu and we ought to be careful.  I’ll go make some tea and honey, and echinacea will help as well.”  She stepped into the kitchen before Sam could protest.

“ Go rest, Sam,” said Frodo firmly.  “No working today.  I’ll let the other hobbits know.”

“But--”

“No but’s, Sam! Now don’t act like a child or i’m going to have Jolly and Nick guard the door if you’re going to be so stubborn,” growled Frodo.  Frodo did not want Sam to get sicker.  Sam’s cheeks were flushed, his eyes looked bleary and Frodo noticed that his voice had changed, sounding congested.

“Now be a good lad, and go back to bed, please.  Rosie and I will bring the medicine once it’s brewed.”

It was Mr. Frodo and his Rosie asking, so Sam reluctantly obliged and walked slowly back to his room.  His head was pounding.  He didn’t even bother to change his clothes before his head hit the pillow, and he fell asleep.

TBC

"Ash and fire. Bagshot Row and trees were all demolished.  Rows of tarred sheds. The poor Party Tree was just an ugly charred stump. The old mill replaced by the brick building straddling the stream. The poor old mill!  “If I hear ‘not allowed much oftener, I’m going to get angry.” ***

Sam woke up groggily, feeling disoriented. His poor Shire.  What time was it?  Did he sleep the day away?  He threw away his covers and sat up.  The curtains were drawn and beside him was water and a mug of tea.  He felt warmer than ever and didn’t feel strengthened or different from his unintended nap.  

“Sam?” Rosie glanced at him worriedly at his left side. “I am glad you’re up. You slept for almost two hours. Are you feeling better?”

“We were waiting for you.  We have some willow bark for you, tea with honey for your throat and echinacea for your congestion -- you must take some,” added Frodo who was on his other side.  “These should help for now.  You barely had any before your nap.”

Sam was thirsty so he obliged without a word to take the teas his friends insisted upon.  He sipped slowly at the willow bark tea since it had a slightly bitter taste.  He felt foolish to insist that he could work today where he didn’t even feel like speaking.  But his Shire needed mending… He had helped Frodo with the Quest for the greater Middle-earth but now his own gardening skills were needed far and wide in the Shire.  It was spring-- spring meant planting...and other important tasks.  Especially now.

“Sam?”

“I...am feeling dizzy,” Sam lay back down to his pillow. He did not want to share his worries with his friends for he was already bothering them with his minor flu.  “Also, throat ...hurts.  Sorry for…all.. this..trouble.”

“Don’t speak of this, Sam!  Have some more water,” coaxed Rosie gently.  She handed Sam another mug.

Sam shook his head. “Not yet. I ...will. Tea was ...strong.” Indeed, the willow bark was brewed to a high concentration because it would help with fever reduction.

“You’ve been overworked, Sam.  You need to take it easier.  No working for at least next two days.  If you’re not better tomorrow, we will call a healer,” said Frodo, while applying cold icy cloths to Sam’s forehead and neck.

“No need, Mr. Frodo, I’m fine,” Sam replied resolutely.  He’d battled colds and fevers before.  Why would this time be different?  “And Mr. Frodo, I’ll be better by tomorrow,” He reached for some handkerchiefs for his nose.  “I just need some... rest today.”

‘“Finally you agree with us,” said Frodo with a smile. “Good, you’re not going anywhere today.”

“Are you hungry, Sam? Are you well enough for some lunch?” Rosie inquired.  “You missed breakfast and elevenses.”

“No, not now. Maybe ...later,” replied Sam.  “For now…I’m just... tired.” He felt his eyelids closing again.  He could not fall asleep though for he was uncomfortably hot.

“Sam, why don’t you change into some more comfortable clothing?  We will just be outside if you need anything,” said Rosie.

“I’ll be fine.  Later...”  Sam feigned sleep.  He did not want to bother them anymore.  He agreed he had to be better and intended to be so within the next couple hours.  For he was never ill for more than a day.  That is why his old Gaffer always relied on him to do most of the work.  His Gaffer would be ashamed to see him resting like this and not helping more.  HIs Gaffer was so happy to move back to Number 3.  He had to help Frodo with Bag End as well.  He heard his friends exchange a few quiet words.

“Sam, we are just outside,” Rosie glanced at him one more time and then left with Frodo to allow him some privacy.

Sam sat up, put his legs to the edge of the bed and stretched out his arms trying to energize himself.  He did not have the energy to go to his drawer for his pajamas.  He was still very warm, uncomfortable and dizzy. He took off his vest, belt and suspenders, but stretched back down, frustrated with his sluggishness.  But this was one battle his mind could not win over his body as he felt his eyelids drooping and he fell into another restless sleep.

…

“Garn! You can’t touch me.  I’m a friend o’ the Boss’s.  But he’ll touch you all right, if I have any more of your mouth. Don’t ‘ee like it Sam? But you always was soft.  I thought you’d gone off in one o’ them ships you used to prattle about, sailing, sailing.”  **

Sam saw Sandyman and so many hobbits seeming to gang up against him.  There were too many of them versus him to repair and fix the Shire.  Why did everyone want to wreck his home?  Would his efforts be wasted?

“You won’t get away with this, Sandyman!” cried Sam.

“But it’s not my fault! It is he who instructed us,” bellowed Sandyman pointing to a shadowed sinister figure that Sam could not make out.

“Get out now, from my Shire! You have no place here!” Sam’s voice sounded shrill in the cold Shire air.  It didn’t sound like him at all.

“Saruman’s home could be all wrecked, and he could be turned out, but no one could touch yours. Oh no! Gandalf would look after your affairs  Not he! When his tools have done their task he drops them.”***

“It’s not true! Gandalf did not mean for this,” cried Sam. He did not believe Gandalf would intentionally leave them to fend for themselves.  But now his Shire was ruined, and for what?

“Go away, Saruman!” Sam cried.

“Sam, wake up!”

Sam woke up again and it seemed dark, but Rosie and Frodo were next to him, seemingly as alarmed as ever.  He sat up with a start this time, seeming to fear that something had gone amiss?  He shivered even though he had blankets wrapped around him.  

“What happened? Why are you all here?”

“You were talking in your sleep! And you’re having nightmares, Sam!  You really need more willow bark, water and some food now.  It is late afternoon; food and medicine work hand in hand,” said Frodo as he helped his friend up to a sitting position.

Sam noticed a tray of food at his nightstand coupled with three mugs, cold cloths and handkerchiefs.  His forehead were laid with many layers of cold cloths.  Sam blushed to remember he was ill and that he was so inconveniencing both his master and his hobbit lass.

“Sorry…”

“Sam, there is no need to apologize. Our Shire will heal and you need to get well along with it,” said Rosie as she helped Sam up to some porridge and some chicken noodle soup.

“Rosie is right.  Don’t blame yourself for the Shire’s condition.  We had no idea that Saruman would come.”

“But Mr. Frodo, i did know! I saw! But I had to go with you,” Sam said as he burst into tears.  

“What do you mean?” Frodo was confused.

“I meant, is I saw Sandyman a-cutting down trees as he shouldn’t in Lady Galadriel’s Mirror, sir! I could’ve come back but I couldn’t leave you.  I couldn’t leave you, Mr. Frodo.” Sam was beside himself now, shedding free tears.  It did not help his headache nor appetite.  “But my Shire and my trees and crops…”

“Sam, dear Sam,” Frodo gave his friend a hug.  “It’s not your fault with the Shire.  It is no one’s fault.”  Frodo felt like he was trying to convince himself as well.  For all the happenings in Middle-earth, returning was the hardest and he felt exactly what Sam felt-- guilt.  How could this have happened?  It was the saddest hour of their lives seeing their Hobbiton almost unrecognizable with refuse, sheds and pollution.  HIs own Bag End ruined.  Frodo felt tears accumulating in his own eyes.  

“It will all be better soon when your seeds will sprout,” he tried to allay Sam’s fears as well as his own.  ”Our Shire would be healed, like you will be, dear Sam.”  

“It really is no one’s fault,” echoed Rosie, handing tissues to the distraught Sam.  ”Neither Mr. Frodo nor yours. No one could’ve known!  Now, you have to get back to your old self and we will continue to heal the Shire.  You’ve already done so much since you returned, Sam.  No need to be so hard on yourself!  Silly hobbit,” Rosie laid a hand on Sam’s cheek and kissed his fevered brow.  “You too, Mr. Frodo… from the stories I’ve heard from Merry and Pippin, you hobbits went to the ...the Mountain of Doom and rid yourself of … something from the Enemy? That is incredible!  How scary yet heroic!”  Rosie’s face glowed. She loved Sam all the more for his courage.  She had newfound respect for Frodo as well.

Sam felt better with these words and reluctantly took his porridge, some soup, and his teas with Rosie’s assistance.  He had no appetite and still felt sick but he knew he had to have some food.  Frodo felt heartened by Rosie’s words too.  He had no pride in his role in the Quest but surely he had to put his own guilt aside to aid his Sam where Sam had chosen to go with him where he certainly had his choice.  

Frodo sighed.  Sometimes Sam was just like him with his stubborn ways.  He had to let him know it was fine to not lay blame for no blame was necessary.  It was harder for him though.  Sam was different than he.  Sam was the hero, not him.  Sam let his loyalty guide his actions at all time.  But what guided Frodo in his own conscious?

Frodo kept these thoughts to himself as he prepared some more cooling cloths. He did not tell Sam about Arwen’s words to him in Gondor nor did he want to worry his friend.  And now, he would have to help heal Sam first and try not to think of his own hurts.

TBC

“Use all the wits and knowledge you have of your own, Sam and then use the gift to help your work and better it.  And use it sparingly.  There is not much here, and I expect every grain has a value.” - Frodo, The Return of the King

Sam did get better from his fever but he stayed home for a week because of a lingering cough and general fatigue. The healer, Amaryllis Goldenfeet, did come to make sure that he wasn’t suffering from anything more serious and suggested a few days rest as well as prescriptions for his nasty cold. 

“Samwise, you shall not work for next couple of days until the congestion clears up.   We do not want a relapse.  You don’t do anything foolish now,” warned Amaryllis who glanced at Frodo and Rosie as well as she spoke.

Sam looked downcast, but Frodo and Rosie did their best to keep him calm and well, and also convinced him that it was for the better that he stayed home.    Jolly and Nick Cotton were quite alarmed at Sam’s illness, and they spent time at home with Sam as well.  They were both very fond of Sam and looked to him as a big brother.

“The other hobbits are quite happy with the placement of the seeds and such, Sammy,” said Jolly, as he handed Sam a cup of echinacea tea.  The healer had recommended that in order to strengthen Sam’s immune system and to reduce the cold’s duration.

“The flowers are starting to see signs of sprouting!  You did well with the planning. I came from Frogmorton yesterday and it seems like this Spring is going to be great everywhere!” added Nick.

“Really?” Sam smiled at the news.  He had worked hard all winter but he did not know the signs would come so soon, especially since March was still colder than usual.  He was looking forward to going outside again. The healer, Rosie and Frodo would not let him out the door until he finished all his teas.  His voice was finally getting better.

“Wait till Rosie knows this-- she’ll be happier indeed,” chuckled Jolly.  “Though she’s happy with anything you do.” Jolly smirked.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Sam between coughs.  He still blushed when Rosie’s brothers joked with him.

“Nothing… but Sam, you have to know that Rosie’s been waiting…” said Nick, handing Sam a mug of water.

“Waiting?” Sam did think of Rosie often, and thought of taking the next step, but he was so busy tending the Shire and his master… was he continually neglecting the love of his life?

The Cotton brothers exchanged knowing looks.  “You just have to talk to her yourself.  Speak tonight. We will be out with friends.”

Indeed Jolly and Nick were right about the Shire’s recovery.   The seeds that Sam planted were starting to show.   Young saplings had begun to sprout and grow, and small hints of golden flowers were seen in the fields of the Shire.  

Sam’s groups of gardeners and helpers still went around Hobbiton, Waymeet, and Frogmorton, among other villages, to make sure remnants of sheds were gone, flower seeds and tree saplings  replacing all signs of ruffian invasion.  It was April now, and indeed the spring of 1420 was one to remember in the Shire.  Eventually Sam healed and did feel that his work did pay off especially when Bagshot Row was fully restored, and Frodo was able to return to Bag End.

“You were right, Mr. Frodo,” Sam said one clear Spring evening when they were sitting outside Number 3, smoking pipe-weed.  It was sunset and they were enjoying the mild springtime weather.

“What was I right about, Sam?” Frodo had a thoughtful look upon his face seeming to be beyond himself.

“You said that it wasn’t my fault what happened with the Shire and you also told me how to use what was in the Lady’s box.  Signs of those trees are here!  The Shire is going to be beautiful again!”

“And yes, it is thanks to your wits and your patience.” Frodo turned to Sam.  “You really are the hero, Sam.  You protect me and our home at all times and that makes you one of the best hobbits in the Shire.”

“Sam could not do it without Mr. Frodo,” replied Sam solemnly.  “Middle-earth needed Mr. Frodo most of all, don’t forget that.”

“You surprise me with everything you say, Sam,” Frodo put his arms on Sam’s shoulder.  “Thank you for always being here for me and learning to value yourself.  Never blame yourself and don’t overwork yourself.”

“You too, Mr. Frodo-- Bilbo and Gandalf always said you’re the best and wisest hobbit in the Shire so don’t you forget that.   I am lucky to have a master like you.  Thanks for taking care of me when I was sick.”

“Of course I need to take care of you, Sam! You’re my dearest hobbit and of course I’ll always be there for you.  But thank you, Sam but really.  You should get all the credit for everything that happened,” Frodo said seriously and looked away.

“But Mr. Frodo.  Without your courage to lead me, I wouldn’t have gone.  Your guidance led me and you fought through all the way in ...during the Quest.  Don’t you forget your role.”

“You don’t understand, Sam.  I fear things will not be the same.  I do not feel it being the same.”

“It won’t be, you’re right but you are going to get better and you just rest,in the Shire and relax.  You will see that with time, we are going on with our lives.”

“I hope so, Sam. But I just don’t know,” said Frodo with downcast eyes as he looked towards the westering Sun.

Sam did not what to say. He was indebted to Frodo in so many ways and he just wanted his master to be happy.  His own relationship with Rosie was strengthening and he felt joy most days, but he wanted his master also to feel like they had succeeded and things would come around.  But the shadow from the East seemed still present in their Shire and Sam felt sad that he couldn’t do anything.  Was there anything to make Frodo forget about the Quest?  Perhaps time was all that was needed to mend his master?

“Don’t worry, Sam,” Frodo gave a wan smile seeming to read Sam’s mind.  “I have my duties as Deputy Mayor to keep me busy and also my book! Bilbo wants me to finish what he started, remember?”

“Yes, you need to write more or you’ll forget!  I want to read it when it’s done, Mr. Frodo.”

The golden flowers were showing signs of dominating  Hobbiton’s landscape, and where the Party Tree once was bloomed the first mallorn west of the Mountains and east of the Sea.  Frodo and Sam did not know yet, but 1420 would be one of the marvelous years in Shire history. 

Sam thought of the story that he had landed in and the events in the past year.  He had not known that he would make it through, yet he had kept his hope alive when it was dark in Mordor. Returning to the Shire caused another grief in his heart, but his Shire had survived and now he and his fellow hobbits were better off.  He was especially happy now since Rosie had set a date for their wedding and he was happy to oblige and thankful that Rosie had waited for him when he was gone.  Only Frodo had to return to his old self and hopefully with the Shire being as splendid as ever, that would also help Frodo’s spirits.  

It seemed like there was a lot to be hopeful about after all, and this Spring seemed even more bright and cheerful than any he had ever known.

~Fin~