Flowers, Gems And Estella - Chapter IV
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Frodo stared into the flickering fire intensely, thinking about nothing and everything at the same time. His hand found its way to his chest as he felt yet another twinge of pain – it was over a year since Weathertop. He took another sip from his tea, and sat it down on the small table next to the cushy chair in which he was sitting – soft green with oak armrests, Bilbo’s favorite chair if he remembered correctly. But he was at Rivendell now – of course, Bilbo had promised to make the journey all the way to Hobbiton every once in a while, but that couldn’t be expected to happen often. There had only been one visit since Frodo and the others had returned from their travels – just one visit during which his uncle slept most of the time.
Frodo laid back, pondering on everything that had happened recently – specifically the events of that day. As he had heard it, Sam had come very close to actually talking to Rosie Cotton.
“There she was,” he had said, “Walking within the market, looking at the beautiful objects on sale – none of them as beautiful as her, of course – and I finally felt ready to talk to her. I mean, I really felt ready – I would talk to her, and she would talk to me, and we would go for a drink, and I would invite her out with me the next day, and we would become good friends – and eventually more than friends.” His eyes had glazed over with a distant look when he’d said this. “And I suddenly broke from my thoughts to notice that Rosie was no longer there.” Sam had hobbled all the way home after that.
A smile found its way to Frodo’s lips as he thought on it – Sam could have a million chances to talk to Rosie, and might possibly never take a single one of them – and in the end the torch that he carried for her would still burn bright as daylight. His love would always rival that told of in the tale of Beren and Lúthien – a mortal man and immortal elf, one fated to live when the other had died.
But Sam would not end up like that – he may have been foolhardy and shy, but he was also extremely loyal and – when the situation called for it – nobly brave. There was no doubt in Frodo’s mind that Samwise Gamgee would eventually have Rosie Cotton for a wife – even if it took him awhile to say just one word to her.
“Just go up and say hi,” he had said, “Don’t think about it – it’s like swimming, you just jump in and eventually you’ll forget about how cold it is.” Sam thought on this as he made his way to Bywater that evening – trying to imagine Frodo’s bravery passing onto him, and giving him the ability to do what he most feared.
Samwise the Brave – yeah, that’s what I have to be – that’s what Mr. Frodo wants me to be.
“You journeyed to Mount Doom and back, my dear Sam,” Frodo had said, “Surely you can manage a simple conversation with Miss Cotton.”
I’ve fought orcs and goblins – and much worse. They called me an Elven warrior at Cirith Ungol – now’s my chance to prove it.
The Green Dragon pub was quite crowded that night – Sam almost considered leaving then and there. But there she was, up at the bar – she was talking to a young lad, younger than Sam himself, but about the same age as her perhaps – maybe he should just let her talk to him, and go his merry way – he was sure there was something he needed from the market, and it would be closing in due time – perhaps if he left now he could make it before they closed, and buy what he needed.
But then the lad left – he saw that it was Doderic Brandybuck, from Buckland, probably visiting with Merry – and he also saw Rosie look up at him, and smile, at him, no less. She had smiled at him – no one was forcing her to, she did it of her own free will – and that alone meant the world to Sam.
It seemed he had no choice but to go and talk to her now – not doing so might risk wiping that lovely smile from her beautiful face – he sat on the barstool, nudging himself around so as to be able to fit his wide frame upon it.
“What’ll you have, lad?” she said to him. He looked up, still in a confused daze that she was addressing him – still smiling at him, even.
“Um – uh – a, uh – an ale, I suppose,” he said to his hands resting on his lap. Rosie only smiled again though, and went to get his drink. Sam wiped his forehead of the nervous sweat, placing his trembling hands on his lap – why did he have to be so nervous, and now of all times? He wasn’t nervous going into Mordor, or taking on Shelob for Frodo’s sake – why now, when all he was planning to do was talk to a lass? A lass that he was romantically interested in, true enough – but it shouldn’t be this hard anyway!
“Why can’t I talk to her at all?” Sam shouted, pounding his fist down on the bar surface.
“Talk to who?” he heard someone say, and looked around to see Rosie holding his drink.
“Um – nobody – nobody at all. Just – someone I knew from my travels!” He suddenly came up with a brilliant lie to tell her. “You see, while I was away, I met this Elven girl – I became friends with her, we all did – by that I mean all of us hobbits – Frodo, Merry, Pippin and me – and we all promised her to write to her after we returned home, here in the Shire – but her father tells us she’s gone away to Valinor, and we can’t talk to her anymore!” Sam grinned honestly when he was finished. She won’t believe a word of it.
“What was her name? Why did she go away to Valinor – where, and what, exactly is Valinor? Do all Elves go there?”
Sam nearly slapped himself in the head. “Well – her name was –” He racked his brain for thoughts. Arwen? “Ar –” Elrond? “– el –” Glorfindel? “– findel! Arlfindel! Yeah, she went away to Valinor – that’s the undying lands to the west, over the Sundering Seas, where all Elves go.”
“And that’s where Arlfindel went?” Sam nodded sadly. “Oh – how sad. And I guess you won’t ever see her again, since only Elves go there, right?”
“Yeah, but Elrond’s thinking about extending that invitation to us, you know – since we were so important to the destruction of the ring, Mr. Frodo and I. He wants to – uh – have us there, in the great halls, to be remembered, until the end of the world, you know – since we’re so important and all,” he said, leaning back in his seat.
“Wow – sounds amazing, to go to Valinor someday – I hope you get to go, I know I’d be excited to go, being able to see new places and people – why, I always get excited just traveling to a distant part of the Shire that I’ve never been to before,” she said cheerfully.
“Well, you know – it’s a dangerous business, going our your door – you step onto the road – and if you don’t kick your feet – keep! Keep your feet, I mean – if you don’t keep your feet, there’s no knowing where you might be swept off to.”
“Where did you hear that?”
“Why, from Mr. Frodo of course – he knows lots about traveling, does it all the time with his Uncle Bilbo.” He heard the clock within the pub strike the house – ten. “Well, Miss Cotton, it seems I might have overstayed my welcome – I’m sure to be needed back in Hobbiton.”
“Why of course, Mr. Gamgee.” The way she said it put a permanent smile on his face.
“So I will bid you goodbye and goodnight, ma’am.”
“And to you the same, good sir.”
Sam walked home that night, his heart feeling so light that it might have carried him all the way to Valinor if he allowed it.