Chapter Three: A Simple Question

"How about this one, Rosie?" Marigold held up a sweet, green dress embroidered with pale yellow and blue flowers around the hem and on the sleeves.

"It might do," Rose replied doubtfully. She held the green dress up next to a deep pink one of slightly different design and eyed the two of them, trying to imagine which would be better for the picnic the next afternoon. It was late spring and the Gamgee and Cotton lads and lasses were taking advantage of the improving weather. It promised to be a lovely party, if only Rose could make up her mind which dress to wear. After pondering for several minutes, she came to a conclusion.

"I think you’re right, Mari. The green is definitely better if only because it will hide grass stains better."

That decided, she put both dresses back in the wardrobe and turned to other, more important, matters. Namely, baking some pies for the aforementioned picnic.

"I thought apples might be nice in the pies," Rose stated as she pulled a basket full of the fruit from the pantry.

"Maybe we could make some blueberry pies as well. The bushes out back are practically bursting with berries." Marigold looked with longing out the window.

"I think you’re right, Mari. Some blueberry pies would go over a treat. Tom’s always raving about your blueberry pies."

Marigold blushed slightly but otherwise didn’t acknowledge that comment. "I’m glad that’s settled then," she said. "I’ll just go pick some berries whilst you cut up the apples."

With the labor thus divided, the lasses set to work. It took only a few moments to collect enough berries for several pies and soon Marigold and Rose were singing and chatting away over their unfinished pastries. By tea time there were several apple and blueberry pies cooling on the window sill and both lasses had worked up an appetite.

"Will you stay to tea?" Rose asked her friend.

"Sorry Rosie, Mum asked me to come home early today. She wanted some help sewing up the new curtains for the parlor and I promised to work on them this afternoon."

After seeing Mari off, Rose quickly set a pot of tea to steep and pulled several loaves of bread, a large amount of fruit, cheese and salted pork from the pantry and set it on the table along with one of the pies she and Mari had baked that afternoon. She was just in time. Her father and brothers came in from the fields as she finished putting out the plates and silverware. There was a great hustle and bustle for the next several minutes as everyone washed up and sat down at the table. Soon everyone was present except for Lily, who had gone to help a neighbor with a sick child.

Most of the meal was consumed in cheerful silence. Finally Farmer Cotton pushed back his chair, sighing contentedly. "That pie was down right tasty, Rose," he commented. "You’re getting to be a right good cook, just like your mother, bless her heart."

Rose’s cheeks pinked up a bit with pleasure at the compliment. "Why, thank!ee Da."

"Don’t let it go to your head, Rosie," her older brother teased her. "Remember, it was only last week that you scorched the chicken something fierce."

"Aye, I do remember," the lass retorted. "Apparently better than you. For I do believe that it was you, Tolman Cotton, who created such a ruckus in the yard that we all came running to see if you’d been killed, only to find that it was nowt but you in the pond with a swarm of angry bees after you. By the time we’d all calmed down and come back inside, the chicken was burnt. I suppose next time we hear you hollering like that, we’ll all just ignore it in order to be certain the food don’t get ruined."

Tom shifted in his seat but otherwise showed no sign of embarrassment. "You just be sure and do that then." He grinned at his sister and despite herself, she grinned back.

"Right then," their da spoke up. "We’ve all got work that needs doin’. Rosie, your mum should be back soon and I expect she’ll be awful tired. Why don’t you make up another pot of tea and some nice sandwiches for her?"

"Yes, sir." Rose had already had it in mind to do just such a thing. First, she cleared up the mess from their tea, piling plates in the sink to be washed, wiping down the table and sweeping the floor. Next, she set a pot of water to boiling for tea and then set to on the dishes. Within an hour the room was set to rights, the tea was steeping and a tray of sandwiches and cakes had been prepared and covered for mum.

Lily was exhausted when she returned home. She had spent the day with the Bracegirdles on the next farm over. They were a young couple with only one child. Their lad had been caught out in a terrible storm a week ago and had been very ill since. They were overwhelmed with trying to care for the sick child and keep up with the ever present demands of farm life as well. Lily had gone down for the day to do what she could to help. She had cleaned the house and cooked as much food as she could, preparing several meals so that poor Mrs. Bracegirdle could focus on her child. Now she wanted to do nothing more than put her feet up and sit for a spell.

"Poor Mum," Rose sympathized. "Go get settled in the sitting room and I’ll bring you your tea."

In a few minutes, Rose had her mother comfortably settled in a cozy armchair with her feet up on a footstool in front of a cheerily crackling fire. Lily relaxed into the chair with a sigh.

"So how’s Ned doing, then?" Rose asked after giving her mother time to drink her tea in peace.

"Better, the fever’s down and he’s breathing easier. It’ll be awhile though, before he’s up and about." She paused to nibble on a cake. "His poor parents are a wreck. It’s the first time either of them had to deal with a serious illness and they’ve been terrible afraid." Lily smiled. "I remember the first time young Tom was sick. Oh, what a fuss we made over him. We probably near to killed him with all our worrying. My mum finally stepped in a put a stop to the fussing. Of course, she confessed to doin’ the same thing when I was a babe and I daresay you’ll do the same with your first child, too."

Rose laughed, enjoying the story. "I’m real glad Ned’s doin’ better. Now, you just sit here and rest while I get supper on." Rose leaned over and kissed Lily’s cheek affectionately before returning to the kitchen. She was kept busy for the rest of the evening, preparing a hearty stew for dinner and then cleaning up the remains after everyone had eaten. She didn’t let Lily do any of the work, knowing her mum had done enough work for several days at the Bracegirdles’.

By the time she crawled into bed that night she was worn out. Even so, it took her a long while to fall asleep. She was thinking on many things. She was looking forward to the picnic the next day. It had been a particularly wet and cold spring and this was the first chance they’d had for an outing in a long while. She hoped Sam would be able to join them. He had been taking over more and more of the responsibility for the grounds up at Bag End and didn’t have as much free time as he used to, but he’d told Marigold that he would try to make it for the afternoon.

Even after four years, Rose still hadn’t really reconciled her feelings for Sam. It was all so confusing. There were times when she was sure that she cared for him, but other times she thought that the very idea of loving Samwise Gamgee was the most preposterous thing she had ever heard of. She was still very young, of course, barely into her tweens. Still, she was remembering the story her mother had told her that evening and trying to picture herself sometime in the future with a child of her own, a fine young lad or lass to take care of and love. Somehow, it seemed that Sam was always there, in her imaginings, whether she wanted him or not, looking over her shoulder at the wee bundle in her arms, or holding the child himself. This was ridiculous, of course, but none-the-less, there he was. Finally, after tossing for nearly an hour, Rose drifted to sleep, after giving up altogether on trying to oust Sam from her fantasy.

The next morning flew by. There was a bit of spring cleaning to be done still and Rose wanted to get a lot done so she wouldn’t feel guilty leaving in the middle of the day. She helped her mum take down the curtains in the parlor and wash them. She also took the rugs out to beat them and let them air out. All of the bedding needed to be aired out as well, but that was tomorrow’s job. Finally all the chores were done, the wagon was loaded and everyone was ready to go.

"Come on, Rosie. Up you get," Tom helped his sister onto the bench before climbing up beside her. Jolly, Nick and Nibs hopped into the back and they were off. In less than half an hour they were on the road leading up the Hill. They were greeted outside the Gamgees’ hole by Bell Gamgee.

"Hullo, young Tom," she spoke cheerily. "You’ve got a lovely day for your picnic."

"That we do, Mrs. Gamgee," Tom replied. "Why don’t you join us? There’s always room for one more."

"That’s very kind of you, lad. It’s not quite warm enough for my old bones. I think I’ll just stay at home and have a nice tea in front of the fire," she said with a laugh. "But I’ll send the lasses out to you now." With that she turned and entered the smial.

It took only a moment for Daisy, May and Marigold to join the Cottons, with several well-laden baskets. Tom climbed down from the wagon and handed each of the lasses up, lingering just slightly while helping Marigold.

"Thank’ee Tom," she said with a smile, her cheeks turning rosy. She looked about. "Is Sam not here yet?" She frowned. "He promised to come."

"And here I am, Mari." Sam was walking down the hill from Bag End. "Sorry I’m late, I was helping Mr. Frodo replace some damaged shutters and it took longer than I thought it would." He nodded to Tom and swung up into the back of the wagon. Tom climbed back onto the bench and they were off.

They headed west of Hobbiton, going several miles before starting to look for a likely place to stop. Eventually they came to a small pond in the midst of a shallow vale full of wild flowers and sweetly scented grasses. Everyone climbed out of the wagon and stood about, taking in the fresh air and the beauty of the day.

"Right, who’s up for a little walk before lunch?" Daisy was eyeing a path meandering up the slope of the vale with interest.

"Maybe we can find some mushrooms," mused Jolly, whose passion for the fungi was legendary in his family. Nibs’ eyes lit up at that. His passion was nearly the equal of his brother’s.

"Fine," Tom laughed, "You two go hunt mushrooms, but don’t get lost and don’t be gone too long. We’ll eat all the food without you." Jolly was barely into his tweens and Nibs was only sixteen. Neither lad was terribly responsible and both needed a lot of looking after. Looking delighted, the two disappeared in short order.

Tom opted to take a short nap, having worked quite hard on the farm that morning, but the rest joined Daisy on the path she had spied out. The young hobbits walked along quietly for a time, speaking in hushed voices as they explored. Soon, Nick started singing a favorite walking song and before long everyone was singing and laughing.

Rose moved away from the group. She had spied some small, white flowers and wanted to investigate. When she got close enough, she was pleased to see that her guess was correct. The field was covered with strawberry vines. Further examination showed that many of the vines held small, ripe berries. Humming happily to herself she began to pick the succulent fruits, filling her pockets.

"Here, let me help you, Rosie." Startled, Rose looked up, surprised to see Sam standing there. She had been so intent on her task that she hadn’t heard him approach.

"Of course, Sam." She smiled warmly at him. "I think there’s enough here to take back for everyone." They made an efficient team and it didn’t take very many minutes to pick the vines clean.

Sam looked around and grinned ruefully. "We seem to have been left behind, the others are nowhere in sight."

"Faithless friends, to leave us stranded here." Rose grinned back. "P’raps we shouldn’t save any of these tasty berries, after all." So saying, she popped one of the tiny red fruits in her mouth. "Oh, these are delicious. Here, Sam, try one."

After tasting the berry, Sam was forced to agree that they were indeed very fine. The two settled to the ground to enjoy their little snack, forgetting any plans to share the treasure they had found.

"Well, that’s all of them," Rose stated after searching her pockets in vain.

"I think I have one left," and Sam held out one last juicy strawberry. "Here, Rosie. You take it."

"Don’t be silly. It’s yours. You should eat it."

The lad looked at the berry in his hand, torn between his desire for the fruit and his desire to please Rose.

"I’m stuffed," he lied. "I couldn’t eat another bite. You may as well eat it. Otherwise it’ll go to waste."

Rose laughed, but allowed herself to be persuaded by this argument. "Well, we wouldn’t want that, now would we? I suppose I can make a small sacrifice and eat the poor berry."

Having finished their snack, they laid back in the grass and pointed out cloud pictures to each other.

"Look, Sam. There’s a sheep that’s been half sheared."

"D’ya see the little cloud over by that tree, Rosie? Don’t it look just like a hawk?"

"That one over there looks like a face, don’t you think?"

"Aye, and the bigger one next to it looks a bit like a boat." Sam paused for a moment. "I think it’s an elven boat and the face belongs to one of the elves. He’s going to the Grey Havens to set sail, leaving Middle Earth forever."

Rose sat up and looked at her companion. "That’s a sad thought. Why do the elves leave?"

"I don’t know, really." Sam looked thoughtful. "Mr. Bilbo said they leave because they are fading, or maybe because Middle Earth is fading, or some such." He laughed. "I never was very clear on the why of it. I’m not sure Mr. Bilbo was either. At least, he never was able to explain it very clear to me."

"Do you miss him, Sam?"

"I do. He used to tell such wonderful stories, all full of elves and dwarves and dragons and all sorts of things." He looked so sad for a moment that Rose reached out and touched his hand to comfort him.

"I know most folk considered him a bit cracked, going off to foreign parts with those dwarves and all," he continued, "but there never was a kinder, more good-hearted hobbit in all of the Shire, if you ask me. Why, look what he done for Mr. Frodo, rescuing him from those strange Brandybucks across the river and bringing him to Bag End, where he could live with decent folk." Sam fell silent, leaving Rose a bit surprised. She didn’t think she’d ever heard quite such a speech from him.

"And how ‘bout Mr. Frodo. D’ya like workin’ for him?"

"Oh, aye! He’s a wonderful master. My old gaffer wasn’t too sure at first. He don’t much like change and he’d been working for Mr. Bilbo for most of sixty years. Mr. Frodo does some things a mite different, more casual-like, if you get my meaning. He’s got some odd notions of his own. I’m forever finding him pottering about in the gardens. ‘Course, he always was like that. Must come of that wild childhood of his, no one looking out for him proper an’ all." Suddenly Sam blushed bright red, realizing he’d been gossiping about his beloved master.

"No matter, Sam. I won’t tell anyone," Rose reassured him gently. He looked at her in gratitude and she became acutely aware that she was still holding his hand. Now it was her turn to feel the blood rushing to her cheeks. When she tried to move her hand away, Sam caught it and held on tight.

"Well, it’s about time!"

Rose and Sam both gasped and jumped up, dropping their hands. They had been so absorbed in their conversation that they had not heard the return of the walking party.

"Where have you two been?" Daisy demanded sternly. "I turned around to ask you something, Sam, and you were both gone. No one knew where you’d got to." She sighed a sigh of the much put upon. "Tweens," she muttered, half to herself, "they’re such a lot of work." Daisy had come of age just that spring and felt herself to be a species above these foolish youngsters. However, her dignity was a bit diminished by the wreath of wildflowers she had placed atop her head and which had become sadly askew during her walk. Rose and Sam wisely suppressed their laughter until she had turned back to the others.

Rose was quiet on the walk back, resisting Marigold’s demands to be told everything that she and Sam had done, seen, said, felt, thought, or breathed. She was busy thinking. It had taken four years and one afternoon to come up with a certain sure answer to the question Marigold had asked her, although it had been a simple enough question. It turned out the answer was simple, too. A sweet smile came to her lips. She was sweet on Sam Gamgee.