For Starfire Moonlight, who wanted an explanation on why hobbits don’t like boats or water; and for Rabid Sam Fan, who suggested a story explaining the odd nature of the Tooks.
 
 
 

“Three Elf-towers of immemorial age were still to be seen on the Tower Hills beyond the western marches. They shone far off in the moonlight. The tallest was furthest away, standing alone upon a green mound. The Hobbits of the Westfarthing said that one could see the Sea from the top of that tower; but no Hobbit had ever been known to climb it. Indeed, few Hobbits had ever seen or sailed upon the Sea, and fewer still had ever returned to report it. Most Hobbits regarded even rivers and small boats with deep misgivings, and not many of them could swim. And as the days of the Shire lengthened they spoke less and less with the Elves, and grew afraid of them, and distrustful of those that had dealings with them; and the Sea became a word of fear among them, and a token of death, and they turned their faces away from the hills in the west.” ~ FOTR, The Prologue

“…most of the folk of the old Shire regarded the Bucklanders as peculiar, half foreigners as it were. Though, as a matter of fact, they were not very different from the other hobbits of the Four Farthings. Except in one point: they were fond of boats, and some of them could swim.” ~ FOTR, A Conspiracy Unmasked.
 

Chapter 13 – Out of the Oar-dinary

The Fellowship was formed; only six days remained until the Ring-bearer’s departure. Merry and Pippin were relieved that they were included among the Nine Walkers, at the behest of not Aragorn but Gandalf. Elrond was not happy with the decision but he could not ignore the advice of both his foster son and the wizard. In his heart, he knew they were both right and he could only hope that Merry and Pippin came to no serious harm upon the road, as he hoped for all of them.

Frodo also had mixed feelings about the decision. He was glad that he would have his cousins’ company upon the road but he was worried for the danger they would face. If it were up to him, they and Sam would remain safely behind in Rivendell, but as he had been told so bluntly on a warm autumn night in Crickhollow, the decision was not his to make. At the first opportunity, Merry and Pippin would sneak after the Company and that would put them in far graver danger. Frodo too would simply hope they and Sam came to no harm; he would not want to answer to their parents if he should return to the Shire without them – if he returned at all.

Winter was now upon them. The days were growing increasingly chill and the nights colder still. No more snow had fallen but frost covered the grounds each morning. Still the warmth of late autumn attempted to hold on longer than it would and on the day after the forming of the Fellowship, the hobbits woke to find the sun bright in the sky above and the air singing with the warm gusts that blew through it. They dressed for warm weather but took their jackets and scarves to be safe, and in the dining hall, everyone seemed cheered by the abrupt turn in the weather.

“It will not long hold,” Glorfindel informed the Fellowship as they dined at table together. He, Bilbo and Lindir were also sitting among them.

“The weather always warms just before winter truly sets in,” Lindir explained. “By the end of the week, there will be no more warmth until spring.”

“We should take advantage of it then,” Merry said. “It’s been some time since we went swimming. Do you think it will be warm enough for that?”

“The air may have heated, but the water will be chill yet,” Elladan said, coming up behind with his brother. They too sat with the Fellowship. “I do not advise it.”

“It will be fair enough for boating,” Elrohir said, “and it shall be the last opportunity of the year for fishing.”

“Perhaps then after your training, we will accompany you to the pond and we could attempt to fatten the kitchen’s stores,” Aragorn said.

“That sounds delightful,” Frodo said and the others quickly agreed. They arranged to meet near the paddock at the forest trail leading to the pond. Only Sam looked forlorn and he ate his food more slowly than he would. Frodo gently patted his friend’s shoulder; he would remain on land with Sam and find a fishing pool where they could sit together.  

They arrived at the pond shortly after luncheon. Bilbo had remained behind, but all the others had come. Gandalf found a boulder near the water’s edge to sit upon and smoke his pipe. The three boats were carried by Elrohir and Elladan, Aragorn and Boromir, and Lindir and Legolas. They set the boats upon the ground near the pool’s edge and looked about as the hobbits caught up. They carried the fishing gear for all, and Gimli carried the basket that contained the tea things; Sam had insisted they bring the basket as they wouldn’t have time to walk back to the house. It also gave Sam an excuse to stay on the land, as someone would have to tend the fire once it came time to prepare the tea.

“Won’t you be fishing with us, Gandalf?” Pippin asked, sounding hopeful.

“I prefer to remain dry, thank you very much,” Gandalf said around the stem of his pipe, a twinkle in his eye. “I heard that you and water do not go together very well.”

“That’s bath water,” Pippin said, “and I won’t be bathing here today. You should remain quite dry.”

“Then it does not matter if I get in a boat or remain here on this rock,” Gandalf countered.

“Except there you may not hear any stories that Pippin may tell about you to the others,” Frodo pointed out.

“He won’t be telling any stories,” Gandalf said and looked hard at Pippin. Pippin gulped and shook his head empathically.

“Will you be going in?” Sam asked his master.

“I think I’ll join you,” Frodo answered. “I find I usually catch more fish along the shore than out in a boat.”

“You are not coming on the water?” Lindir asked as Legolas and Boromir climbed into his boat.

“I wouldn’t think so, sir,” Sam answered, looking at the water and the boats suspiciously. “Don’t let Mr. Frodo, Mr. Merry and Mr. Pippin fool you, but hobbits don’t like the water. We can’t swim and why use a boat with a line from land will get you fish and a footbridge will get you over the rivers and streams? It ain’t natural, meaning no disrespect.”

“None taken,” Merry assured and he and Pippin climbed into the boat they would be sharing with Glorfindel.

“Many elves do not swim either,” Elrohir said. “It is a skill that we do not much require, though those whose duty takes them to the Sea or over water will learn without heed. Why do hobbits consider it unnatural?”

The hobbits all shrugged. “It’s just the way of things,” Merry said. “The only reason Frodo knows how to swim is from growing up in Buckland. Had he grown up in Hobbiton, I doubt he’d have learned; Bilbo can’t swim either and avoids the water.”

“Yes, we have noticed that, though it never occurred to us this was common amongst all hobbits,” Elladan said. “Even elves who cannot swim will go into the rivers where it is shallow enough to bathe at need, or wash their clothes.” He and Elrohir got into their boat, joining Aragorn who was already sitting.

“Dwarves do not swim either,” Gimli put in. “There’s no need for it, as there are rarely lakes to be found under mountains. Those who do attempt it do not get very far; our stature doesn’t allow for it.” He went down the line of boats and gave each a firm shove into the pool. He then joined Frodo, Sam and Gandalf. “Shall we find a fishing pool?”

Gimli, Frodo and Sam walked around the pool until they came to a shallow section that Sam declared ripe for fishing. They sat down, baited their lines and sunk them.

Sam glanced around the pool, a worry line forming on his brow as he watched the boaters row closer to the middle of the pool and the waterfall. He had to admit that it was a beautiful sight to behold. The water cascaded down the hillside, shimmering in the afternoon sun like many glittering crystals. The spray from the waterfall misted the air and the tree-covered hillside, and all around the shoreline were still many flowering plants that cheered the pool for their brightness.

If there was anything to object to, as far as he was concerned, it was the point where the falls crashed into the otherwise tranquil pool. Sam eyed the roaring waterfall dubiously, his frown lines deepening as he watched the falls pound into the pool, churning the water like he imagined a giant watermill would. The only other time he had seen anything like it was at the Ford of Bruinen, when he had thought he’d lost his master forever. He shook his head; he would rather not think about that if he could help it.

“Sam?” Frodo asked, concerned for his friend. “Is something wrong?”

“Nay, Mr. Frodo, just getting lost in my thoughts again,” Sam assured quickly. He didn’t want to worry his master unduly. Frodo had more than enough things to worry about without adding Sam Gamgee to the list.

Frodo didn’t look convinced but he let the matter go. He had come to realize over the course of their journey that he did not know Sam nearly as well as he had once thought. Frodo spoke to Sam so often of his own thoughts and experiences that he had failed to notice that Sam would only occasionally return the favor. He knew that if he asked, Sam would say it wasn’t proper for a servant to bother his master with his worries, and there would be nothing Frodo could do to convince him otherwise. If Sam did eventually decide to tell him what was weighing on his mind, he would do so at his own time and when they weren’t surrounded by so many others.

“Too bad it’s too cold for a swim,” Frodo said instead, sounding more wistful than he had expected. How long had it been since his last good swim? He could not immediately remember.

Sam hummed and reflexively curled his toes into the moist soil under his feet, as though to reassure himself that there was still land beneath him and not water. “If you say so, Mr. Frodo,” he answered.

“May I ask, young master, that if you learned to swim only because you lived in Buckland, it is then a skill that is only taught there?” Gimli asked. “Why is that exactly?”

“Buckland is next to the Brandywine River,” Frodo answered. “The Baranduin, as you would call it. It’s wide and fast and quite dangerous. Those who have business or homes near the water usually learn, for safety reasons more than anything else. That does not mean that every hobbit in Buckland can swim or even enjoys boats. Most do not and will take the extra journey to the bridge to avoid using the ferry. Pippin learned because he visits Merry quite often, and so Merry taught him. Pippin’s sister Pervinca swims as well, but Pearl and Pimpernel never learned.”

“There is no other place in the Shire where hobbits know to swim?” Gimli asked next.

Sam shook his head. “Nay, it’s not a skill as any other hobbit would need.” He had almost said ‘any normal hobbit’ but had caught himself just in time.

“It is still curious though, for folk who live among so many rivers and streams, that more of your kind do not know how to swim,” Gimli said. “I would think it’d be like a dwarf who cannot whet an ax.”

Frodo shrugged and said, “It’s just the way of things,” just as Sam clucked his tongue and said, “Well…,” under his breath. The gardener trailed off quickly though and shifted uncomfortably, keeping his eyes on his line as though a fish might make off with it at any moment.

Frodo and Gimli exchanged curious looks then watched Sam. “Well…?” Frodo repeated and waited.

Sam cleared his throat, licked his lips and shrugged. “It’s naught, really.”

“It doesn’t sound like nothing,” Frodo pried. “If it were nothing, you would have said nothing.” He may not know Sam as well as he once thought, but he could still tell when Sam could be goaded and when he couldn’t. One could easily mistake the gardener’s clamped lips and lack of eye contact as refusal to speak, but Frodo knew that not to be the case. 

Sam shifted uncomfortably again. He glanced up at the water and watched the boaters. Merry and Pippin were talking animatedly to Glorfindel, and Aragorn and Boromir were chuckling while the others simply looked perplexed. Whatever the young masters were saying, Sam reasoned that if he couldn’t hear them, they would not be able to hear anything being said on shore. Sam glanced over at Gandalf. The wizard was chuckling also and seemed to be able to hear what the others were saying, which meant he’d probably be able to hear Sam also. Although, considering Gandalf’s long acquaintance with the Shire and his friendship with the Old Took, he has probably already heard this tale before.

“It’s just a story my Uncle Andy told me once,” Sam said, still hoping to get out of telling it. “He’d be my dad’s elder brother. He’s a roper up away in Tighfield,” he explained to Gimli. “He weren’t much in the way of story-telling.”

“And yet he told you one,” Frodo said. “I would like to hear it.”

“As would I,” said Gimli.

“It’s just a silly thing. Not a word of it’s true I’d wager,” Sam said.

“I enjoy a bit of yarn from time to time,” Gimli replied.

“Come on, Sam, let’s hear it,” Frodo requested.

Sam sighed. He put his foot in it now and no mistake. He glanced back up at Merry and Pippin and lowered his voice to be on the safe side. “Well, it’s concerning the Tooks and the Oldbucks, if you follow. You may have already heard it?” he asked hopefully.

Frodo shook his head. “I couldn’t say as you haven’t said what it entails.”

“Oldbucks?” Gimli asked.

“The Brandybucks,” Frodo informed him. “The name was changed when they crossed the Brandywine and settled in what would later become known as Buckland.”

“My Uncle Andy said as I shouldn’t go repeating it near gentry,” Sam apologized before even starting. In truth, that was the warning given every time this tale was told, for he had heard it again many times over the years, repeated around bonfires and laundry basins or in kitchens or bakeries, but he was not about to tell his master that. The tale varied slightly depending on who was doing the telling, but Sam always considered the tale his Uncle Andy told him to be the correct one, if only because that was the version he heard first. And now here Sam sat, surrounded by Elves, a Took and a Brandybuck, and his master. His master was kin to both families as well, and the manner of how he came to first learn of the story was still a sore subject for Frodo even after all these years.

“I won’t hold it against you Sam, or your Uncle Andy,” Frodo assured.

Sam nodded, took a deep breath, and began his tale.

“Well, it was the summer of my sixth year. Hamson – that’s my eldest brother – he was prenticed to my Uncle Andy – who’d be my dad’s elder brother – the year before and had gone up to live with him and his family in Tighfield. My dad arranged it so me and Halfred – that’s my next elder brother – could go up to Tighfield to visit with him for the summer. So after the Free Fair as is held every year at Mid-summer we went home with Hamson and Uncle Andy.

“We weren’t there more than a few days when I made mention to Uncle Andy all about Mr. Bilbo’s young cousin, Master Frodo, who’d come to visit Mr. Bilbo every spring the last couple of years. We were working out back behind the barn and it were right hot, even in the shade of the barn wall. We were sweating fit for melting and I said as how Mr. Frodo could swim and would go out to the river to cool down when it got hot. Then I said as how he’d offered to teach me sometime if I wanted.

“Well, Uncle Andy, Hamson and Halfred got real quiet and still after that, but Uncle Andy went all pale-like. He put down his thread and rested his ropewalk on his thigh and he gave me a queer look. ‘Where’s this Frodo from as he swims like he a fish?’ he says. ‘He’s from Buckland,’ I says. ‘His daddy was a Baggins right enough, but his mama was a Brandybuck.’ ‘What’d ya mean by was?’ he asks. ‘Well,’ says Halfred, ‘his parents were out boating in the Brandywine one day and they were drownded. No one’s sure how exactly it happened.’ ‘Is that right?’ says Uncle Andy. ‘That’s right,’ we says. ‘Well, I can’t say as I’m surprised,’ says Uncle Andy, ‘for naught but Tooks and Brandybucks can drift on the water and live to tell the tale. His daddy should’a stayed ashore.’ ‘What’d ya mean, Uncle Andy?’ we asks and that’s when he told us the story, see?”

He looked at his master sharply, searching for signs of distress. Frodo had long ago accepted his parents’ deaths but when reminded of it unexpectedly, it could still jar him. Rather than showing signs of distress, however, Frodo shook his head, his expression perplexed.

“I can’t say as I do see,” he answered, “as you have yet to tell us the story, and I have to say that this does not sound like one I have heard before.”

“I’m getting to it, sir,” Sam said, still watching his master closely, worried about what this might bring about later in Frodo’s dreams. “It’s just, you’ll be asking later how I come to know the tale if I don’t tell you now.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Frodo admitted. “But do not keep me in suspense for much longer.”

“Indeed,” agreed Gimli. “This sounds to be an intriguing tale.”

Sam nodded, still uncertain, but he was already committed and couldn’t back out now even if he wanted to. His master would hound him mercilessly until Sam gave it up.

“Well, sirs, to be understanding how I come to hear it, you got to understand how my Uncle Andy come to hear it too,” Sam said.

“Sam,” Frodo started.

“I ain’t stalling sir, honest,” Sam assured. “It’s an important part of the tale.”

“We’ll see about that,” Frodo said.

Sam gave him a pained looked then continued with his story.

“You see, my granddaddy’s brother-in-law’s cousin worked in the Great Smials as a chambermaid back in the Old Took’s day. The Old Took would be Gerontius Took; he was Took and Thain from 1248 through 1320 when he passed at the remarkable age of 130, if you can believe that. The Old Took’s youngest son and child was Isengar Took.

"Now, Gandalf was a good friend of the Old Took, even used to set off fireworks on his birthday. He had an ear of each of the Old Took’s children, nieces, nephews and cousins, and quite a few of them went off on Adventures during that time. Hildifons Took never did return from his, but Isengar did. He disappeared a few years after his coming of age and was gone for four years. Said he was going to sail the Sea, which everyone worrit meant as he’d never return. The Sea is a sign of death in the Shire, and always has been, though no one knew for sure why. We just always avoided the Sea, or any form of water, but Isengar decided as he would go anyway. No one thought he’d return, that he’d disappeared like his older brother and never be heard from again, so you can imagine everyone’s shock when he come back about four years later, in the autumn of 1301.”

“This is rather a long time after Oldbuck settled in Buckland,” Frodo interrupted. “Nearly 600 years, in fact.”

“I’m getting to it, sir, honest I am,” Sam said, still keeping his voice just above a whisper. “Now where was I? Oh yes… So, Isengar returns from the Blue and instantly all sorts of rumors and stories start to circulate about his Adventures, but my granddaddy’s brother-in-law’s cousin heard this tale from Isengar hisself, or so it’s said.

“This is the tale as my Granddaddy Hobson told it to my Uncle Andy, and as my Uncle Andy told it to my brothers and me…”  

From our Wandering Days not much could be told about where we come from or why, but there are those out in the Blue as have longer memories than ours. When Isengar Took set out into the Blue and spent all those years traveling the Sea to foreign parts, he come across a boat of Sea-elves. Upon hearing his name, they cried in amazement and immediately brought him to their Queen in her tower of stone as was built upon the sea cliffs.  

The Queen was a fair and formidable lady, tall and graceful, and she greeted Isengar with great honor, laying out tables of food piled high to the ceilings, which were a good twenty feet above the heads of the tallest Elves. She looked joyful indeed to meet him, though he noticed as she couldn’t meet his eyes without crying.  

“Why do you cry so, Fair Lady?” asked Isengar.  

“I weep so bitterly for you remind me of a dear friend I knew once in the Ancient Days,” she said. “In truth, you look very much like him, and if I did not know of the short years of your people, I would swear that you were him. Except even then I would know it to be false, for you cannot be him, even if your years were as long as ours.”  

“Why is that, Fair Lady?” Isengar asked. “How do you come to know any Hobbits?”  

“My people did not always live upon the Sea,” the Elf-queen said. “We were once of a woodland realm far to the East and North, beyond the realm of Angmar before its blackening. For many endless years we lived amongst the mountains, trees and little rivers there and we were merry indeed.  

“One day in my faraway youth, I was out for a walk beyond the borders of my realm. I came to a grove and decided to rest there in the shade of the trees before turning back towards home. I sat on a small mound and simply looked around at the tranquil little place. I was about to get up when I heard an odd sound, almost like a door opening beneath me where I sat. I looked down and indeed there was a door opening out of the hillside! I was even more amazed when two little creatures came out of it. They looked to be Elves or Men, except that they were half our size. Curious, I stood up and the creatures noticed my movement. They turned around, but rather than being startled, they looked at me curiously.  

“‘Well, hullo there,’ one creature said. ‘Are you of Elves or Men?’  

“‘I am an elf,’ I answered. ‘What are you, little sirs?’  

“‘We are hobbits,’ the hobbit answered. ‘My name is Handy Tûc and this is my cousin Tomba Olbuc.’  

“I told them my name in return and we sat there for many long hours, talking about everything we could think of. The hour grew late and it was nearly twilight before I noticed the fading of the light. Jumping up, I promised to return as soon as I could so that we may finish our conversation, then I ran home, arriving only just in time. I told my father all about the hobbits I had met and what wonderfully delightful creatures they were, but my father forbade me to go visit them again. Still, as often as I could, I traveled to the hobbits’ home and we would talk and eat and eat and talk for many hours. I met their families also – they had been away visiting friends the first time I was there – and discovered that this particular hole in the ground belong to Handy and his family, while Tomba’s family lived a little further away in another hole. Handy was the eldest of eight children and would one day be the leader of his people, and Tomba was the eldest of six children, and the closest kin to Handy. They were princes and I was a princess, and so I determined that our friendship was well and good, an unexpected alliance.  

“A few years passed in this manner. Handy, Tomba and I were good friends and I dearly enjoyed their company. Handy especially enjoyed our visits and would often give me gifts when I visited, and so I would take him and his family little trinkets as well, though I had quickly learned they enjoyed food and ale above all else.  

“One day when I went to visit, they were not there and there was no smoke coming from the chimney, or from any of the other holes nearby. The next time I went to visit, the same thing happened, and I began to worry. I thought they might be visiting friends again, and so I returned at least once every other week or so, hoping to find them returned, only they never appeared and their little homes grew into disarray after many months. I could only determine that they had abandoned their home, but I could not figure out why. I was very sad and greatly worried.  

“My father noticed my distress, and so he asked me what was amiss. At last I told him and he was quite cross with me. ‘I told you not to visit those creatures again,’ he reminded me to which I could only nod miserably. ‘Forget about them and do not go there again. Their ways are not for us to interfere in.’  

“I agreed never to go back, only because I knew it would be pointless. They were gone and would not be returning. I did however hope to find where they had gone and would search out the woods and mountainsides all around looking for them. Never a sign of them did I find and the year closed with chilly snows and freezing storms. I pined so much over the long winter that my father relented and in the spring announced that he would send two of his best scouts to look for the Tûcs and Olbucs. ‘But Father,’ I said, ‘the scouts would not recognize them and my friends will not know the scouts. They will hide from anyone but me.’ So my father allowed me to go as well.  

“We traveled for many weeks, searching for any signs that we may find of my friends. We found many trails that always lead to a dead end, and after a couple of months, the scouts determined that it was hopeless. ‘They have fled the land. Such is the way of mortals and you would do best to forget about them,’ they told me.  

“On our return home, one of the scouts spotted a trail of smoke in the distance, near the river valley at the birth of the Great River. I knew immediately it was my friends and I begged leave that we go and look. The scouts consented and we traveled south, keeping the smoke trail in our sights over the next two days. Finally we came to the river valley, only to discover that the smoke was on the other side of the delta, and as it was spring, the rivers were flowing fast and wide, fattened by the snowmelt from the mountains all around. It was impossible to cross.  

“Forlorn, I begged leave to make camp there, at least until we saw my friends, so I could know it was them indeed and that they were happy in their new home. The scouts agreed and it was near the end of the day before we spotted a group of hobbits returning from a hunt. Handy and Tomba were among them. I jumped up with great joy and shouted over the delta, ‘Handy! Tomba! My dears! It is I!’  

“They looked up and nearly dropped their kills. Instead, they set them down carefully and waved back. ‘I would have informed you of our leaving, but I did not know how to get word to you!’ Handy shouted back.  

“We were much concerned about you!” Tomba called.  

“‘I am glad to have found you but I will not be able to meet with you again, dearest of friends,’ I said in reply.  

“‘So it must be,’ Handy agreed. ‘I will miss our friendship dearly, my sweet princess.’ And then he and Tomba bowed, picked up their kills and began on their way with their friends and family.  

“Just at that moment, there was a great howling and baying behind where the scouts and I were standing. Dark Wolves had moved into the mountains, and it was later that I would discover the reason the hobbits chose to leave when they did. They could cross the river delta when it was frozen and settle in the safety of the valley beyond. The wolves could not cross the river frozen without great difficulty and would not cross it as all when it was rushing, for it was too strong a force to contend with.  

“But when the Wolves spotted us, they sent out a party to slaughter us and take us as prey to their den. We were soon surrounded but the scouts were well-armed and had slaughtered many wolves and goblins in worse situations than this. My dear little friends across the delta could not know this and when Handy saw the wolves’ approach, he dropped his kill again, took up his crossbow and jumped into the river. His family and friends cried out in dismay, catching my attention. Handy could not swim but he was determined to save me if he could. The river soon dragged him under and would have swept him away south within a blink had he not been caught in some rocks at the river bottom.  

“I left the scouts to deal with the wolves and dove in after my friend, not realizing that Tomba, who did have some experience with water, had dove in also. But the river was stronger than I expected and it nearly bested me. I had to put forth all my strength to keep from being swept away and though I tried many times to reach him, Handy was always just out of my reach. At long last, I could no longer hold my breath and I was exhausted and weary. I swam to the surface and to the shore, coming aground on the side of the river where the hobbits lived. The hobbits were weeping bitterly and crying out in great distress, and I joined them with my own tears, frustrated at my inability to save my friend. Only then did I learn of Tomba, who had been swept away with the rushing current, swallowed by the river, and I joined my tears with their own.”  

The Queen ended her story there and for many minutes could not continue as bitter tears once again rolled down her fair face. Isengar dared to step forward and placed a hand upon the Queen’s knee. “Thank you for telling me this, Fair Lady,” he said. “We do not have many stories from our Wandering Days and my people will be humbled to learn of this. Perhaps if they are reminded of the friendship that once existed between Hobbits and Elves, they will not be so suspicious of your kind now.”  

The Queen did not respond at first and when she continued, it was to finish her tale, which Isengar had wrongly thought concluded already. “The scouts did kill the wolves, or chase them off, and they soon joined me on the other side of the river. We stayed with the hobbits for a few days, until I could gather enough strength to make the journey again. But before I left, I prayed to the stars and the heavens that all the kin of Handy Tûc and Tomba Olbuc shall never again know water as their enemy, and I promised them it would be so. They did not look comforted.  

“The morning we departed, Handy’s father alone bade us farewell. ‘We see now the danger of rivers and will avoid them, whether or no,’ Master Tûc said of my promise. Then he gave me Handy’s crossbow and Tomba’s sling and spear. ‘They no long require these, but you may find them useful on your journey home. I beg of you, do not search us out again. There are those who believe you a bane to us, and you make them wary.’ He bowed in apology, then turned and walked away. He was the last hobbit I would see until now.  

“After I married, I left my home and brought my people West to the Sea. Handy had once told me that he always longed to see the Sea, though he was dearly afraid of it all the same. So I had erected three towers, and the tallest I built upon a mound, in which I laid to the rest the weapons of my friends as a monument to their sacrifice. From the top of that tower, you can see the Sea, and so in this I hoped that Handy would have his wish at last, to see the beauty of the Sea far away from the dangers it may impose on him.”  

The Queen stopped talking again and dried her eyes. She placed a hand over Isengar’s and smiled. “I place again that blessing upon you and your kin.”  

“And so Isengar Took remained with the Sea-elves for a good year, learning all sorts of stories out of the Old Days,” Sam concluded. “My Uncle Andy reckoned as that’s how come the Tooks and Brandybucks are so queer, meaning no disrespect, and how come they can swim and all, being cursed with magic by the Elves. He said as it weren’t for our kind to be attempting such tricks. ‘After all,’ he said, ‘we were smart enough to stay away from such folk and we know as to keep our feet on land and out of water. They weren’t as sharp, bless them, so they started fooling about with boats and ferries and other tomfoolery, even long after they forgot all about the curse. So that’s how come you can’t ever mention this story to one of them, and how come Isengar was told as to never go repeating it. If they were reminded about the curse, well, who’s to say what sort of madness they’d think up next!’”

Sam finished his tale and watched his master closely. Frodo looked down at the water and their forgotten fishing rods and for many moments his face was blank of any expression. Then slowly a smile spread over his lips and he soon began to chuckle, and then giggle and finally he was howling with laughter like he hadn’t done in months. He doubled over with it, and tears rolled down his face. Sam too allowed himself to laugh along with his master, and Gimli even chuckled a few times under his breath, and he smiled goofily to see the Ring-bearer so merry.

In their boats, Merry, Pippin, Boromir, Aragorn and their elf companions looked over at the trio on the shore curiously.

“What’s that about?” Pippin asked.

“I don’t know,” Merry answered, “but bless Sam for getting Frodo to laugh like that. It’s a welcome sound.”

Legolas smiled to himself. He was closest to the shore and had caught some, if not all, of what Sam had said.

“What is it?” Boromir asked him.

“Later,” Legolas promised.

From his perch on the boulder, Gandalf chuckled too. He put more weed into his pipe and relit it, watching fondly as Sam and Frodo attempted to regain their composure, with little success. The story was both true and untrue, as such things go, and it had been himself who warned a young hobbit mariner to never tell the story again, for fear of adventurous Tooks who had never swum a day in their life. Seems he should have extended that warning to the servants who had been in the room when Isengar told it to him, but it seems no harm was done by that mistake.

At long last, Frodo and Sam caught their breath, though they still chuckled helplessly from time to time. “Dear Sam, but that is the most wonderful tale,” Frodo said. “I didn’t know your Uncle Andy was one for such tales.”

“He ain’t,” Sam said. “That’s the only tale as he ever told and that’s the only time as he ever told it, so far as I know. Fred and I asked Dad as soon as we got home if he knew the story too. He said he did, but he didn’t see no point in repeating it at all so long as we kept our hobbit sense about us and kept on land where we belonged. ‘If we were meant to swim in water, we’d’ve been fish,’ he said and that’s right enough.”

Frodo chuckled again. “Is that why you never accepted my offer to teach you to swim?”

Sam nodded, looking sheepish. “It is,” he admitted. “I know now as it ain’t more’n a tall tale, but at the time I believed it. Truth is, it’s partly the reason as I thought you had Elf-blood in you, sir, meaning no harm.”

“None taken,” Frodo said and wiped the last tears of mirth from his eyes.

“A very entertaining tale, Master Hobbit,” Gimli said. “I’ve not heard the likes of it before.”

“Nor have I,” Frodo said.

“Thank ‘ee, Master Gimli,” Sam replied.

“You’re just as good with a tale as Bilbo is,” Frodo commented, looking at Sam pointedly. “And to think that you remembered this tale all these years since hearing it at the tender age of six.”

Sam lowered his eyes to his fishing rod and pretended great interest in its inactivity. “Well, it was the only one as my Uncle Andy ever saw fit to tell us,” Sam said, “and it was about Elves.” He then bent forward to fiddle needlessly with the line of his rod, hoping he wasn’t blushing as noticeably as he thought he was.

“You’ve an impeccable memory,” Gimli complimented, though he too suspected Sam may have heard that story more than once since. Still, it was clear that Sam would say nothing else on the point.

Frodo at last had mercy on Sam. He wouldn’t push him to say anything he truly didn’t want to say. He leaned back to rest on his elbows and gaze up at the clouds. “I must admit, I have to agree with your Uncle Andy,” he said after a time. “If certain hobbits got wind of this story, there’s no knowing what may come of it. The Brandybucks will be building houses out of boats and living right on the water, and keeping their gardens floating on ferries.”

Sam looked at his master, thoroughly scandalized that such a thought could even occur to him. “Don’t you even speak it, sir!” he exclaimed. They cautioned to look at each other then and once more burst into laughter.  

“So what is this story you were telling Frodo earlier?” Merry asked as he and his fishing companions came to shore. They had done well, catching enough fish to feed the entire House for dinner tonight.

He and Pippin left the men and elves to pull the boats ashore. They joined Frodo, Sam, Gimli and Gandalf around the fire Sam was tending. A pot of tea was already steaming, filling the air with a sweet aroma.

Sam risked glancing up at Frodo and smirked. Frodo looked up at his cousins and shrugged nonchalantly. “Oh, it was nothing really,” he answered and gave Sam a wink. He would never tell.
 
 
 
 

To be continued…
 

GF 7/26/08