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*