Rosie looked at Sam’s drained face as he sat holding Elanor. Despite all her efforts, she couldn’t help herself, she burst into tears. ‘Thank you, Sam,’ she sobbed, hugging him to herself. He was back!
He blinked at her and held Elanor up for her to take back. She did so, biting her lip at his lack of expression as he stood, swaying. The next moment his knees buckled, and he collapsed; the chair fell back with a crash, and his head hit the flagged floor with a thud.
Rosie screamed for Jolly, not knowing where he was in the smial, and dropped to her knees beside Sam. Elanor added her own loud wails as she was set down on the floor. Ignoring her daughter’s cries, Rosie lifted Sam’s head and slipped an arm beneath to cradle him. She stroked his brow and loosened his collar. He was breathing, but looked deathly pale.
‘Sam!’ she cried. ‘Sam!’ She bowed over him and wept, while all the time Elanor bawled her own fright.
Suddenly, Merry and Pippin were at her side. She looked from one to the other as Merry checked Sam, and Pippin scooped up Elanor to quieten her. Both of them looked short of sleep: they had pale, set faces and shadows under their eyes. They were as dishevelled and travel stained as Sam.
‘What happened?’ she whispered.
‘He left,’ said Merry, rather shortly. ‘He left with the Elves.’
Rosie bit back the sharp response that came to her lips. She knew that. She wanted to know how Sam had been at the time and since, but at the sight of their faces - carrying no sign of their usual irrepressible humour - she stayed silent. Merry looked particularly haggard.
Jolly came in then, and stopped short in the doorway. ‘What the...’ he started, but didn’t bother to finish the sentence. He went down on his knees by Merry and together they lifted Sam. Rosie rushed to hold the door; she ran ahead to their bedroom, pushed the door open, and threw back the covers for them to lay him on the bed. Merry was breathing hard as he straightened, and Pippin handed Elanor into Rosie’s arms so that he could grab his cousin.
‘Sit down, Merry!’ he said and pulled him to the armchair. Rosie plonked Elanor on the bed beside Sam and unfastened his Lothlorien brooch. She glanced at Merry and Pippin as she worked at his jacket buttons. Pippin looked over his shoulder at her. ‘Merry’s not been well, either,’ he said. ‘He was ill before we even left Crickhollow.’
‘I’m fine,’ muttered Merry, but he didn’t look it. ‘I want to know that Sam’s all right.’ He gripped Pippin’s arm, and Rosie could see his fingers whiten. ‘Pippin! Do you think this means that Frodo’s collapsed - like he did this day last year?’ Rosie swallowed. It was what she feared, and if Frodo died would Sam die, too?
Jolly was looking at them as though they’d gone mad.
‘No,’ said Pippin calmly, cutting across the atmosphere of fear that was curling around the room. ‘I don’t think that at all. The song’s died, remember. Sam no longer knows how Frodo is feeling. He no longer has that bond. This is no more than grief and great weariness, and I’ve no doubt he’s worrying about Frodo. I’ll trust Gandalf to keep Frodo safe. I’m not saying he isn’t ill, but I don’t think Sam’s state reflects that and I’ll trust Gandalf.’
‘The song’s died?’ whispered Rosie. ‘What do you mean?’ She looked down at Sam’s face and tucked his hair back. She stroked along his jaw line and looked at Pippin again, waiting for an answer.
‘We think it was when Frodo left the circle of this world, and took the Straight Path into the West,’ croaked Merry, glancing towards Jolly. Rosie followed his gaze. Her twin was standing with his mouth open and was now staring at them as though they were not only mad, but had suddenly all grown two heads.
‘Do something useful, Jolly,’ she snapped, ‘and get me one of Sam’s night-shirts. They’re in the top drawer there.’ He jumped to obey and looked relieved to have something to do. He helped her divest Sam of his clothes, and she touched his arm as he held Sam for her to pull the night-shirt over his head. ‘Thank you, Jolly,’ she said. ‘I’ll explain later.’ He nodded as she picked up Elanor again; the child was trying to crawl over her Sam-dada.
Pippin had squatted down beside Merry and was holding his hand. Rosie thought Merry should be in bed, but he also looked like he needed some warm food in him. ‘Supper’s all ready,’ she said. ‘I’ll take mine here, Jolly, please. Make sure Merry and Pippin eat, and then Merry ought to get to bed. Thank you, Pippin,’ she added, ‘I don’t understand what you mean about the song dying, but your trust reassures me.’
Pippin came and hugged her. ‘Frodo said Sam was like a song inside him,’ he explained gently. ‘Sam told us he didn’t know it was the same for him - until the song stopped and there was silence.’ His eyes filled with tears. ‘I don’t know how they came to have that bond, I can’t quite believe that the Ring caused something as beautiful as that to happen. Sam’s face when he realised he couldn’t feel Frodo anymore... it was heartbreaking, Rosie.’
The tears rose again to Rosie’s eyes. ‘What about Frodo?’ she whispered.
‘We can’t know. We won’t ever know,’ said Merry miserably, and buried his face in his hands.
‘Erm,’ said Jolly. ‘I’ll dish the supper out, then, shall I?’
‘Yes... please,’ said Rosie, sitting on the bed and stroking the untidy hair back from Sam’s face. ‘Pippin, would you light the fire for me?’
‘I’ll do it,’ said Merry, looking up. ‘Pippin can help you with Elanor, if help’s needed. He’s good at that sort of thing.’ He pulled himself slowly to his feet.
‘Merry! No!’ said Pippin, laying a hand on Merry’s arm. ‘I can do it. You sit there. Elanor’s quite happy at the moment.’
‘I’ll do it! Leave me alone!’ cried Merry angrily, snatching his arm away. He looked at Pippin’s face, hidden from Rosie’s view, and hung his head. ‘I’m sorry, Pip,’ he said, ‘just let me be doing something.’ Pippin nodded and stood aside. He sat in the chair, just vacated by Merry, and looked at Rosie.
‘How are you doing, Rosie?’ he asked.
‘Ask me in a day or two,’ she answered, looking at Sam. ‘I just want my Sam to be well. Has he eaten anything today?’
‘He’s had some breakfast and lunch. He ate what we put in front of him, but not as though he could tell you what he’d eaten.’
‘I’ll send Jolly back to the farm after supper and see if Ma can come and stop,’ said Rosie, her mind on the next problem, although she had listened to Pippin’s reply. She would welcome some help with Elanor if Sam needed much nursing; their daughter was crawling now and no longer stopped where she was put. As though to prove the point, Elanor headed for the side of the bed furthest from Rosie, and she had to lean across Sam and make a grab for the child. She lifted her up and tickled her tummy to distract her from her thwarted design, and then set her on the floor as Merry and Jolly both returned. Elanor crawled over to see what Merry was doing, and Pippin lifted her up. Holding her in one arm, he placed a large guard around the fire as Merry finished and straightened up from the hearth. Rosie was about to point out the twin latches on the inside of the guard, that hooked into rings in the wall, but Pippin was leaning over and fastening them even as she opened her mouth.
‘We’ll take Elanor with us to the kitchen,’ said Pippin, ‘and then you can eat your supper in peace.’ Rosie felt guilty - they’d been travelling for days, and nursemaid was the last thing they probably wanted to be - but she accepted the offer gratefully. Pippin must have seen some of the hesitation on her face; as he followed Jolly and Merry out of the room, he turned back to her. ‘It’s no trouble, Rosie,’ he said. ‘You’ve no idea how happy it makes me to hold her.’ He bent his free arm up and rubbed his face against his sleeve. ‘Come along, little one,’ he said, and jogged Elanor out of the room. Rosie could hear her giggling recede down the corridor.
She ate her supper quickly, glad that Pippin found Elanor a comfort in this time of loss; she hadn’t thought that the other Travellers might be glad of this link with Frodo, as well. She fervently hoped he wasn’t going to get the babe so excited that she wouldn’t sleep. After supper she would bath Elanor in the big kitchen sink, feed her again, and then settle her for the night in the nursery. Too much excitement now was likely to all end in tears later.
Rosie set her tray aside and knelt by the bed. She stroked Sam’s face. ‘Sam,’ she said. ‘Sam!’ but there was no response. She sighed and kissed him on the lips. It had been too much to hope that she could just wake him up out of this, and when all was said and done, maybe the best thing was for him to sleep... as long as that’s all he was doing. His breathing was steady and even, and that was a good thing.
She would do what she had to do, letting Merry or Pippin sit with Sam, and then she would climb into bed beside him and hold him to her. ‘I’ve missed you, Sam,’ she whispered, tears starting in her eyes. ‘Please don’t leave me.’ She bowed her head over him and wept.
It was Merry who carried Elanor back to her. Rosie heard her daughter’s chatter before they arrived; she straightened and wiped her face before they appeared in the doorway.
‘Thank you, Merry,’ she said. ‘Will you sit with Sam while I heat some water for Elanor’s bath?’
Merry nodded and pulled the armchair closer. ‘Of course I will and be glad to. Jolly’s left for Bywater, and Pippin’s seeing to the ponies, so shout if you need my help in anything.’
‘Thank you,’ said Rosie again. She had no intention of calling Merry for anything: he looked far too in need of sleep. Sleep and a bath, she thought - they all smelt strongly of stale sweat and ponies - but that would have to wait. She wasn’t going to suggest they start drawing and heating water now. She’d probably be inured to the smell after a night with her nose close to Sam.
In the kitchen she set water to heat and placed an old towel on the table to lay Elanor on while she removed her soiled napkin. She dropped it into a lidded bucket, to be boiled with others in the morning, and lifted Elanor down to let her crawl around the room with a bare bottom. Her crawling was still inexpert - Holman could put on a much greater turn of speed - but Rosie was sad that Sam had missed this landmark. It was no good dwelling on the fact Frodo had as well; he had gone, and would never see her first tottering steps, or hear her infant chatter. She blinked back more tears, and poured water into the sink.
‘Ups a daisy,’ she said, as she swung Elanor up and kissed her. ‘Lets pop you in the bath, shall we? What do you think your dada’s doing? Do you think he’s safe?’ She played games with Elanor as she washed her, and was just wrapping her in a big soft towel when Pippin returned from the stables. As she expertly folded and pinned a new nappy onto Elanor, he sat and told Rosie some of what he had seen at the Grey Havens. Elanor sucked her favourite block of wood and kicked her legs in the air.
‘She’s a happy babe, isn’t she?’ said Pippin. ‘I’ve not often seen her scream.’
‘Oh, she has her moments,’ Rosie assured him, ‘and she’s not one for being left. I has to wait until she falls asleep and then lay her down for a nap - and most times she wakes up as soon as I think I can tiptoe out of the room. She don’t wake in the night, though, and that’s a blessing.’
‘Frodo’s daughter,’ said Pippin softly, taking a small hand in his and rubbing his thumb over the back of it. He was nearly hit in the face with the block as Elanor waved her free hand about. He smiled. ‘I wonder what Frodo was like as a babe. I suppose Mother would know.’
‘Well, one thing as I’d like to make clear,’ said Rosie, pulling Elanor’s night-gown from the airing rack over the stove. ‘You’re not to go spoiling her with presents and sweets and suchlike, just on account of who her father is. Now, I want to get back to Sam, and I think you should get Merry to his room and take yourself off to yours. The beds are all ready, as usual. If I’m worried about Sam in the night, I’ll call you.’
Pippin stood as Rosie picked Elanor up, and he kissed her on the cheek.
‘I’m glad you married Sam,’ he said.
When Rosie got to bed, she hugged Sam close and was glad she’d married him, as well. ‘I love you, Sam,’ she said softly. ‘Please be all right.’ She laid light kisses over his face and then pulled the covers over them both. Eventually she slept, but woke in the small hours to find Sam restless and drenched in sweat. He was running a fever and wandering in his mind. She ran for a cloth and water, but left Pippin sleeping: she could manage, and Pippin needed rest. She sponged Sam down, talking to him all the time, but he made no response and didn’t stop his mutterings. He seemed to think he was in a land of dust and ashes - Mordor she guessed - and he was arguing with himself. There were just fragments of sentences until he suddenly muttered: ‘It’s all quite useless. He said so himself. You are a fool.’
When Elanor awoke, Rosie carried her to Pippin’s room and knocked at his door.
‘Sam has a fever, Pippin,’ she called in response to his sleepy query. ‘And Elanor’s woken. I need some help.’
Pippin was there in a moment, pulling his dressing gown around him. He had a whole wardrobe of clothes he kept at Bag End; it had seemed like extravagance to Rosie, but there was no doubting that, at times like these, it was useful for him to be able to just move in and have everything handy. He looked very boyish, with his hair spiked up in all directions, but he still gave her confidence with his calm air.
‘I’ll sit with him, Rosie,’ he said. ‘When did the fever start?’
Merry appeared from further down the corridor in time to hear the question and Rosie’s response; he looked pale and unrested. ‘Have you any dried elderflower leaves or dried peppermint?’ he asked, yawning.
‘Elderflower, yes. But no peppermint leaves,’ said Rosie. ‘I can get that from the market later today. There’s some feverfew in the garden.’
‘Show me, and I’ll make an infusion,’ said Merry.
‘Make some tea, Merry, while you’re at it,’ called Pippin as he disappeared into Sam’s room.
Merry lit the stove and put the kettle to heat, while Rosie settled herself down with Elanor. Elanor fed greedily, while at the same time trying to twist her head to see what Merry was doing.
‘He got chilled on the quayside,’ said Merry, suddenly. ‘He was standing there for a long time after Frodo sailed, just staring out to sea. I’m sorry now we let him. It seemed the best thing to do at the time.’ He turned away from her and leaned on the towel rail that ran along the front of the stove, his head bowed.
‘Don’t blame yourself, Merry.’
‘I promised Frodo I’d look after him.’ His voice shook on the word Frodo and he rubbed a hand over his face. ‘Where are the dried elderflower leaves?’
‘In the pantry. There’s jars of dried herbs and such on the third shelf up, far end.’
He was longer looking for it than she expected, and the kettle had started to whistle before he reappeared. He looked red-eyed, and she guessed he’d been having a quiet cry. Rosie’s own misery over Frodo’s leaving had been submerged by her worry about Sam, and that in turn was being held at bay by thinking through the practicalities. Hot water was needed, but wood had to be fetched first, and more for the stove as well. She didn’t feel she could ask Merry, he didn’t look as though he should be fetching and carrying. A trip to the market was a must, and not just for the peppermint leaves that the herbalist stocked; they were low on food. She wondered if her ma would come, and if so, how soon. There were meals to prepare, Sam could do with being either sponged down or, even better, carried to the bath, and he’d sweated enough for the sheets to need to be changed. That would mean more hot water, over and above what was needed to boil nappies, and Merry and Pippin would probably be glad of a bath as well. She mentally checked over how much wood was stacked in the outhouse, more might need to be chopped, and of course there was all the water to be pumped.
Underneath her planning, a little voice was trying to rise to the surface. What if Sam worsened? Hobbits could die from fever. ‘Oh, Sam,’ she thought. ‘Please be all right. I can’t bear to lose you.’ She gathered Elanor closer into her arms, and the wish came to her that the babe was Sam’s child. If Sam died and she hadn’t even borne him a child...
Suddenly, she could hold back no longer, and wept, rocking Elanor in her arms. Merry was at her side in an instant. He put his arm around her.
‘Did you know Frodo told Sam he would be mayor?’ he asked.
Rosie looked up at that, blinking back her tears. ‘He’d make a fine mayor,’ she hiccuped.
‘He will make a fine mayor, Rosie.’
She was sure he was just saying that to make her feel better, but it was sweet of him. ‘Thank you, Merry,’ she said with difficulty. ‘If you’ve found everything you need, I’m going back to Sam. I’ll cook breakfast in a little while, help yourself if you want something sooner.’
She found Sam was delirious, and Pippin was bathing his forehead. She sat on the bed beside him, letting Elanor continue her breakfast. She took Sam’s hand and spoke to him quietly, telling him his little treasure was close by.
Pippin looked up from his ministrations. ‘I think he knows you’re here,’ he said. ‘He’s not so restless. Keep talking to him.’
‘What’s he been saying?’ she asked.
‘He’s been talking of Frodo,’ answered Pippin, and she nodded.
‘Frodo wants you to get well, Sam,’ she murmured. ‘Elanor’s here and she wants to see her Sam-dada smile at her. I’m here Sam, your Rosie’s here. I know I’m not your best love, but I do love you, Sam.’ She had to stop then, and take the handkerchief that Pippin offered her .
‘What can I do that’s most helpful,’ he asked gently.
‘Get some wood in, and draw some water,’ she answered promptly as she finished blowing her nose and looked up at him. ‘I’d’ve asked Merry, but...’
‘I know. He doesn’t look well, does he?’ said Pippin. ‘But Merry’s a tough old bird, let me worry about him. You’ve got enough to cope with.’
The coping became easier with the arrival of Lily Cotton soon after breakfast. She had brought fresh-baked bread and cakes with her, along with a supply of fresh meat and ham. The Gaffer appeared, rather out of breath, and sat with his son for a while, before disappearing into the garden to dig root crops. Jolly was dispensed to the market for the peppermint leaves and a few necessities, while Pippin kept them supplied with wood and water. Merry filled a bath for Sam, and Rosie heard her Ma calling out to him.
‘Not too hot, and not to cold, Mr. Merry; just betwixt and between if you please.’
Rosie smiled to herself; Merry seemed to know a good deal about nursing fevers and didn’t need anyone telling him what to do. He took her mother’s bossiness in his stride, though, and she heard his assurance with no hint of irritation. He and Pippin carried Sam to the bathroom while Rosie stripped the bed and remade it, ready for Sam to be laid back, wrapped in a towel and smelling of rosemary. It was a great improvement and, even better, his brow was cooler. Merry checked him over and made fresh infusions for him. He lifted Sam into a sitting position, supporting his head while Rosie carefully spooned the medicine into him.
‘How comes you know so much about nursing?’ she asked.
‘I spent a lot of time in the Houses of Healing, in Minas Tirith,’ he answered, moping up spilt liquid with a towel. ‘I was interested, and the herb-master and the wise-woman both loved talking. Someday, I’d like to write a book on herb-lore.’ They talked a little of Minas Tirith, but Rosie knew that Merry knew she wasn’t really listening. ‘Maybe Sam will take you there one day,’ said Merry suddenly, and Rosie couldn’t help laughing despite her worry.
‘What! Me! Go all that way, to a city of big people!’ she said.
‘I don’t see why not,’ said Merry. ‘There’s a King now, and the roads are getting safer all the time.
‘Get on wi’ you!’ said Rosie as Merry laid Sam down again. ‘You’ll be telling me I’ll meet an elf next.’
‘Well, that’s not impossible, either, Rosie,’ said Merry. He tucked the covers over Sam. ‘They’ve not all left.’
Whatever the future might hold, it seemed that for the present the whole of Hobbiton and Bywater knew that Samwise Gamgee was ill, and offers of help and gifts flooded in. Rosie was deeply touched by the proof of Sam’s popularity and the variations of “Sam helped me out when my Ned was ill, there ain’t nothing’s too much to ask. Just say the word, and we’ll help whatever way we can.”
Widow Rumble simply appeared and announced she would be doing the washing. ‘I’ve water heating,’ she said. ‘Just send that brother o’ yours along with it. With a baby in the house, there’s always washing to be done, and a sickroom makes more.’
Molly had come with her gammer and peered from behind her skirts, thumb in mouth, small ragged dog hanging by its ear as before. She looked around the kitchen and pulled her thumb free. ‘Where’s Frodo?’ she asked.
‘That’s Mr. Frodo, my girl,’ said Widow Rumble. ‘None of your cheek.’
Rosie knelt down and handed this small friend of Frodo’s a biscuit. ‘He’s gone away,’ she said sadly. ‘He’s gone away, and he’s never coming back.’
‘Oh, my dear,’ cried Widow Rumble. ‘Your Sam ill, and what’s to become of you if Bag End’s lost its master? Has he sold up again? I saw ‘em leave and I thought Sam din’t look well at the time. What were Mr. Frodo thinking of, taking him gadding all round the country on one of his mad jaunts? Where will you live now?’
Rosie straightened and looked Widow Rumble in the eye There was too much to answer there, what with her needing to be back at Sam’s side. ‘Lost its master?’ she repeated. ‘No! He’s sick but he ain’t lost yet. My Sam’s the new Master of Bag End, Widow Rumble, and if you’ll excuse me, I must be getting back to him. I’ll send Jolly along with the washing, and I do thank you for your help.’ She left the widow mouthing her surprise, and knew that bit of gossip would be round Hobbiton and Bywater even faster than the news of Sam’s illness.
As soon as the widow had taken her leave, Rosie’s mother came scurrying down to the bedroom. ‘Frodo gone,’ she cried, ‘and Sam Master of Bag End! You ain’t serious, now, are you, lass?’
Rosie sat down in the armchair and reached for her handkerchief, feeling tears come again. ‘Yes, it’s true, Ma. Frodo was so sick he was like to die, and the Elves have taken him - over the seas, into the West. He can’t never come back from there. He’s left everything to Sam; ask Merry, he were witness to it. It’s why Sam’s so sick, and... and it’s why Frodo wanted me to marry Sam, if he’d have me, on account of knowing this time would come.’ She broke down then sobbing and gulping as her mother comforted her with an arm around her. ‘There’s more, Ma,’ she whispered. ‘There’s more, an’ you’d best know it. It’s the reason I persuaded Frodo to... to father Elanor.’
Lily Cotton snatched Rosie’s hands away from her face. ‘What! WHAT!‘ she cried. ‘You’re telling me as that Baggins has been spreading his charm around like a philandering Took and left you with a baby... and a husband as’ll likely disown you if he finds out!’ She positively glared at Elanor, who had been playing happily with a rattle on the floor, but whose face now crumpled up, ready to cry at the sound of the angry voice.
Rosie jumped up and lifted Elanor in her arms to cradle her close. ‘Don’t get angry, Ma!’ she said quietly. ‘You knows what a store Frodo and Sam set by each other. It were my fault, not Frodo’s, and Sam knows I did it ‘cause I love him. There’s no point getting angry, Ma, with me or any one, ‘cause it’s done. And you said yourself, she’s the beautifullest babe you ever did see.’ She turned her attention to her daughter. ‘It’s all right little sweetheart, no one’s cross with mama’s bestest girl.’ She looked up at her mother again, her tears unchecked as Elanor patted at her cheek then leaned out of her arms to reach for her Sam-dada. ‘Please don’t get cross, Ma,’ whispered Rosie. ‘Please don’t.’
Lily Cotton sat down suddenly in the armchair vacated by Rosie. ‘What were you thinking lass! Marrying Sam in the first place, with him carrying on like he were, and then this!’
‘I was thinking I loved Sam. I’ve always loved Sam. I loves him now, more’n ever. And Frodo didn’t just leave on a whim. He went because he had to go, and he told me before he left, if anything were to... to happen to Sam, Bag End would come straight to me an’ Elanor. But nothing’s going to happen to Sam! He’s going to get better and be Mayor and we’ll have a whole smial of children... and... Oh! Sam!’ She collapsed down onto the bed, took Sam’s hand, and burst into tears again.
Elanor wriggled out of her arms. ‘Da da da,’ she said.
There was the faintest movement in Rosie’s hand, and a whisper of sound. ‘Elanor?’
Rosie’s tears were checked in an instant. She bent down, her hair falling around Sam’s face, and kissed him on the lips. The kiss was returned, just a light answering pressure, but it was there.
To Sam, it seemed as though he came from one bad dream into another. There was an angry voice and his Rosie was crying. His head was throbbing, and he tried to speak, but nothing came. Blackness and despair roared around him, and he couldn’t pull himself towards the light. Suddenly there was a little voice in his darkness. ‘Da da da,’ it said, and clear in his mind was an image of Frodo wrapped in his arms in starlight. “I need you to take care of them, of Elanor especially...”
’Elanor,’ he whispered and tried to grasp the hand that held his. Lips touched his, and he responded, tasting salt. His Rose was crying. “They need you...”
With a huge effort he opened his eyes. ‘Rosie?’
There was a glad cry. ‘Sam! Oh, Sam! I’m here. Elanor’s here.’
He felt sick and shaky, and nothing would quite come into focus. He closed his eyes again and felt a cool hand stroke his forehead. ‘I love you, Sam.’
He tried to answer, but the darkness rushed back and there was only dust and ashes and an inner voice tormenting him. You’re a fool, Samwise Gamgee! You could have lain down and gone to sleep together days ago, if you hadn’t been so dogged. You might just as well lie down now and give it up.
But another dear voice was countering it, dust and ashes blown away on a sea breeze. “Remember me well and whole, and live your life to the full.”
’I promised Frodo,’ he whispered.
‘What, Sam? What did you promise?’
‘I promised him... I’d tell Elanor he loves her...I promised him... I’d look after her.’
Rosie wiped tears from his face and kissed his forehead. He seemed to have slipped into sleep and there was no trace of fever. ‘You see, Ma,’ she said. She pulled Elanor’s hands away from Sam’s face. ‘No, Elanor, don’t go grabbing your Sam-dada like that. He needs his sleep.’
Elanor bounced up and down in her arms. ‘Da da da,’ she said, and made another grab for Sam’s nose.’
Lily Cotton stood and reached out to take Elanor from Rosie. ‘Seems as though I never come but you has a shock for me,’ she said drily. ‘Have you got anything else you maybe ought to be telling me?’
Rosie shook her head.
‘So how long were you carrying on with the Master, then.’
‘I weren’t “carrying on”, Ma. It were just the once.’
‘You were unlucky, then, to fall pregnant.’
That made Rosie leap to her feet. ‘You ain’t listening, Ma!’ she said angrily. ‘I was lucky. I am lucky. And now Sam and I are blessed with his daughter. Sam calls her his treasure. Sam’s rich now, but if all Frodo had left him was Elanor, he’d still count himself the richest hobbit in the Shire.’ She glanced at Sam; he hadn’t stirred, but she continued more quietly. ‘There’s only one reason I asked Frodo to lay with me, Ma, and that’s ‘cause I thought his child would help Sam, here, now, when her dada had gone. Have you any idea how much Frodo means to Sam, how much they meant to each other? And I weren’t just going to stand by and see them wrenched apart and my Sam fail like a tree as has had its roots cut through. I thought the child might even give Frodo the will to live, so he could stay. I din’t understand how deep his hurts was! Nothing could save him: not Sam’s love, nor mine, nor Elanor in his arms. We had to let him go, Ma, but at least we’ve got Elanor.’
Lily Cotton looked at Elanor who was clinging tightly to her and then back to Rosie. ‘Oh, my sweet Rose,’ she said. ‘You’re hurting, and I’m sorry to see that.’
‘Just take Elanor, please, and leave me with Sam,’ said Rosie quietly. She kissed Elanor on the cheek. ‘Please, just leave me alone with my Sam.’ She waited until her mother had left, and then climbed under the covers with him to lay her head on his chest and weep. She was weeping for herself, for the grief that awaited Sam when he woke, and for Frodo.
When she had cried herself out, she kissed Sam again, and pulled herself up to wash her blotched face with water from the jug. She smoothed out her dress as best she could and headed for the kitchen. She found that they were almost finished with lunch. Pippin disappeared to sit with Sam, so that Rosie could eat her meal while she fed Elanor. Merry lit his pipe and leaned forward.
‘I’ve been going through the papers in the study,’ he said, ‘and Sandyman’s not paid his tithe for the last quarter. I’ll pay him a visit this afternoon. I’m trustee of the estate until it’s all handed over to Sam, so he won’t be able to deny me payment. I’ve written to the Mayor as well. As soon as Sam’s able, we’ll get all the paperwork done, and the deeds made out in his name.’ He glanced at Rosie’s mother.
‘If it’s something about Elanor, then Ma knows,’ said Rosie. Her mother pursed her lips, but remained silent.
‘Ah!’ said Merry. ‘Well, yes, it is. It seems Frodo has left some papers in case there’s ever any need for Sam to adopt Elanor officially. If, for instance, it became common knowledge that Elanor is his daughter, not Sam’s. I suggest you keep them locked away. I also found this.’ He reached inside his jacket and placed an envelope on the table; it was addressed to Sam in Frodo’s handwriting, and sealed with the Baggins seal. ‘And this.’ A small parcel was produced from another pocket, addressed to Rosie.
‘For me?’ she whispered. ‘He’s left something for me?’
‘Well, technically, he’s left everything for you - or Sam, which comes to the same thing - but he wanted this to come straight to you. It’s his birthday present to you.’
Rosie swallowed. ‘I’ll keep it until I can open it with Sam,’ she said.
‘He may not want to open the letter with you,’ Merry warned.
‘Oh, no! I know he won’t want to,’ said Rosie. ‘I just want to share opening my present with him.’ She placed a hand over Merry’s. ‘Thank you for going to Sandyman.’
‘I expect Pippin will come as well,’ said Merry, smiling for the first time since he arrived. ‘He’ll want to see the miller’s face when he hears Sam’s his new master. As, of course, do I.’
When Rosie returned to the bedroom, carrying a sleeping Elanor draped against her shoulder, she met a smiling Pippin coming out. ‘He’s asking for you, Rosie,’ he said, and bent down to kiss her.
‘Would you carry the cot through, and set it where Sam can see Elanor?’ she asked as he moved to leave. He didn’t answer with words, just went through to the nursery and returned with the barred cot that had replaced Elanor’s cradle.
Sam was looking flushed, and his brow was beaded with sweat as though his fever was back, but his eyes were open, following her every move. She placed her hand on his brow. Yes, the fever was back, but not as bad as it had been in the night, and when she kissed him she was delighted to feel his response. She held Elanor so he could see her, and he tried to lift a hand, but it seemed as though it were too much effort.
Sam watched as Rosie laid Elanor in her cot. He’d wanted to touch the soft golden baby curls, and, too late, the thought came to him that he should have cut a lock to give to Frodo. He closed his eyes as misery engulfed him, and gave a sob.
‘Sam?’ The bed dipped as Rosie sat beside him. She took his hand and stroked his face, but he couldn’t halt the tears and his body shook. He felt the covers lift and Rosie laid her body along his and wrapped her arms around him. She let him cry himself out, just holding him tight. He was beyond thought. His world was filled with grief as though it had rolled over him, a dense black fog. For a while there was nothing else, but gradually he became aware of Rosie’s soft voice shushing him, and her hand rubbing over his back. Her curls, wet with his tears, were pressed against his face.
He took a deep breath that shuddered in hitches as the sobs that had wracked him tried to hold sway. ‘I wish he’d had a lock of her hair,’ he whispered when he could speak, and nearly broke down again. He felt stupid saying it; of all his griefs to lose the battle to this small one. The throb of his head, unnoticed while he was in the dark fog, was back. He felt dizzy and sick, and the light hurt his tear-drenched eyes.
‘Hush, hush, dearest. He has a lock of hair, packed safe. I made sure of that.’
Sam gazed at her, trying to focus on the words, the face, anything. After a moment, he pieced together what she had said. He knew he should feel pleased, but all he felt was numb.
‘The light hurts my eyes...’ he muttered, and she left him to draw the curtains and dim the room. He gazed at Elanor, and here was a thought to hold to. He tried to sit up, but had to abandon the attempt as the room swayed around him. Rosie felt his brow again, then slipped her hand below his head and raised him up to hold a cup to his lips.
‘Drink this, Sam,’ she coaxed, and it was easier to obey than argue. It tasted salt and sweet at the same time.
‘I promised Frodo...’ he said as she took the cup away, and his voice didn’t sound like his own, as though he’d lost himself.
‘I know. You promised him you’d look after Elanor.’
‘And you... I promised him I’d look after you.’
She bent down and kissed him before letting his head sink back onto the pillow. ‘Just for now, I’m looking after you,’ she said. ‘I promised Frodo, too. Now, I’m going to leave you, just for a few minutes. I won’t be long. Merry says you has to drink that water with sugar and salt several times in the day, what with you sweating so, but I think you need some more of his infusion as well. Does your head hurt?’
‘Yes.’
‘I won’t be long.’
He closed his eyes and the darkness beckoned. A darkness where there was no pain or grief. He let go and slept.
When he awoke there was a bitter taste in his mouth and his head was throbbing less, but that just made it easier to think - and thinking was a pain in itself. He heard giggling and then Rosie’s voice.
‘Again? Well, once more then. Are you ready?’ More giggling. ‘This is the way the ladies ride - trit trot, trit trot, trit trot...’ He knew, without looking, that Elanor was being bounced up and down on Rosie’s knee. ‘This is the way the gentlemen ride - agallop, agallop, agallop; and this is the way the farmers ride - trit...trot, trit...trot, trit...trot, and dowwwn into the ditch.’ On the word ‘down’ the giggling reached a climax. Sam opened his eyes in time to see Elanor being hauled back onto Rosie’s knee from the imaginary ditch. Elanor bounced up and down and tried to throw herself backwards off her mother’s knee, to emulate the old rhyme. Rosie caught her again, and as she looked up she saw Sam regarding her. ‘Look, sweetheart,’ she said. ‘Here’s Sam-dada awake.’
Elanor twisted her head and bounced some more. ‘Dada, Da da da,’ she said, and leant out of Rosie’s arms, opening and shutting her fists. Rosie brought her to him, and sat on the bed as Elanor still made her little “hold me, hold me” signs.
‘How’s your head, my dear?’ asked Rosie, shifting Elanor’s weight so she could lean over and kiss him. ‘Would you like me to put Elanor on the bed by you?’
‘My heads better,’ he croaked. ‘Yes, I’d like that.’ Rosie sat Elanor down in the middle of the bed and handed her some wooden rings strung together on a ribbon. Elanor waved them around, then dropped them to crawl onto Sam. He stared in surprise and wrapped an arm around her. He found he couldn’t sit up on his own, and Rosie helped him, pulling pillows up behind him. It was a new experience, being the one who needed care. He tried not to think of all the times he’d helped Frodo like this, but he might as well have tried to stop the sun from sinking into the west as shut out the memories and the pain.
He bowed his head into his free hand and felt rather than saw Rosie come and sit next to him on the bed. She slipped her arm around his shaking shoulders, and he turned towards her, seeking any comfort even if it wasn’t the comfort he craved. This was no sprinkling of tears, but a storm that tore him apart. He was only dimly aware of concerned voices and Elanor being lifted away. Rosie gathered him close, and he cried as though he would never stop.
At last, it seemed as though a calm enveloped him, and the wracking sobs - that hurt his chest and made it difficult to breathe - diminished into shaking silence.
He lay shivering against Rosie, all his energy spent, a headache pounding behind his eyes once more.
Rosie was murmuring against his ear. ‘Sam, hush, Sam. It will get easier, my dear. Oh, Sam.’
He realised he was holding her very tight; he eased his hold and opened his eyes. The pain in his head increased, despite the dimness of the room. He took a proffered handkerchief and blew his nose noisily.
‘Do you think he’s safe?’ he managed, at last.
‘You know I can’t know, Sam,’ Rosie murmured. ‘I hope he is.’ Sam nodded. He had to hope. There was Gandalf and Elrond and Galadriel to keep Frodo safe, and Bilbo to give him some homely comfort. He could almost picture the two hobbits settling down with some Elvish tome, surrounded by quills and ink, and arguing for hours over the meaning of a word. He sighed. He wanted to be busy with something himself, but even sitting was more than he could bear at the moment. He accepted some more bitter tasting infusion, and helped by Rosie, lay down again. The relief of sleep came almost at once.
He knew he was ill for several days; daylight, dimmed by the curtains, was intercut with the flickering light of candles, or darkness when the feel of Rosie pressed against his side brought him comfort. Mostly, he woke to Rosie’s presence, but sometimes Pippin or Merry were there, sometimes his Gaffer. Elanor was frequently brought to visit him, and a warm swell of joy would push back his grief for a little.
His illness ran its course, leaving him severely weakened. When he finally got up, he needed all Pippin’s support to take a few steps and collapse into the armchair breathing hard.
‘Sam? Are you all right?’ asked Pippin, anxiously. ‘You’ve gone very white. Do you want to lie down again?’ Sam shook his head. It was a relief to be out of the bed, and he wasn’t going to go straight back there.
The fire was lit, but he shivered, and Rosie rushed to tuck a blanket around him. ‘I’ll bring you something to eat, Sam,’ she said. ‘What would you like? There’s a stew almost ready for lunch, but I can cook you something else if you’d rather.’
‘I don’t care, really,’ he said. ‘I’d like to join you in the kitchen, though.’ He wasn’t very hungry, but he wanted the hustle and bustle of the meal, even if he wasn’t very bothered about the meal itself. He had been confined to his bed long enough, and now he wanted out, wanted to be distracted from his thoughts, wanted to be busy.
Pippin looked at him doubtfully. ‘Can you walk that far, Sam?’ he asked. ‘If I support you? Merry’s out on some business with the Mayor, though hopefully he’ll be back to eat with us.’
‘I can walk that far,’ Sam answered. He was right, but only just, and he fell into the welcome support of the kitchen armchair. Frodo’s armchair. The room seemed to fall away from him and then settled into the painful reality of Frodo’s absence.
Mother Cotton was there cooking, and Elanor was sitting on the floor, chewing on a wooden duck. They both stopped what they were doing. Mother Cotton came over wiping her hands and looked at him critically. ‘Well, I’m not sure as you should be up and about, my lad,’ she said, ‘but it’s a pleasure to be seeing you.’
Elanor crawled over with a speed that amazed him, diverting his attention from the fact he was sitting in Frodo’s chair. Rosie tucked a blanket around him again, and lifted Elanor onto his lap. He was further distracted by the arrival of not only Merry, but Paladin as well. He looked at Pippin accusingly; he would have exchanged his night-shirt for clothes, if he’d known the Thain was coming to visit.
‘Sam!’ cried Merry, and hugged him and Elanor in one all encompassing embrace. The Thain, meanwhile, disentangled himself from Pippin’s enthusiastic welcome and smiled at Sam.
‘Well, Master Samwise,’ he said, ‘I’m glad to see you making a recovery. No, no! Don’t try and get up. I just stopped by to see my good-for-nothing son.’ He smiled fondly at Pippin. ‘It seemed a shame to be close by and not take some report back for his mother.’
‘Will you stay for some lunch, sir?’ asked Rosie. ‘We’d be honoured if you can.’
Paladin sniffed the air appreciatively. ‘Only if you are sure there is enough,’ he said.
Rosie’s mouth quirked. ‘We always cook double quantities for your son, sir,’ she said. ‘He’ll just have to starve for once.’
The Thain roared with laughter. ‘Very good. Very good, my dear. I’d be delighted to stay, as long as it’s only my son I’m starving.’
‘But what happened,’ asked Pippin eagerly, ignoring the jibes about his appetite. Sam was aware that Rosie had paused in the act of setting out another place at the table and was waiting for the answer.
‘All settled,’ said Paladin. ‘Just so much moonshine on the miller’s part. I wasn’t really needed, but I wanted to come and make sure.’
‘Ted?’ said Sam. ‘What’s he been up to, now?’
Merry sat down on the arm of the chair. ‘It’s all right, Sam,’ he said. ‘It’s all sorted.’
Sam looked at him in exasperation. ‘What is all sorted?’ he asked.
‘Sandyman was contesting the will,’ said Merry gently. ‘He claimed Frodo wasn’t in sound mind.’
‘Not in sound mind!’ spluttered Sam, outraged.
Merry patted his shoulder. ‘No need to get excited, Sam. Sandyman hadn’t even bothered to ask to see the will, so he didn’t know Uncle Paladin and Father and old Will were among the witnesses, and he had no idea it was signed at the Free Fair last year. Why, most of the Shire saw dear Frodo then, as sane as always. Sandyman had made official complaint, so we couldn’t just laugh it off, but Uncle Paladin cooked his goose...’
‘With a very handy bit of basting from you, my lad,’ interrupted Paladin, with approval.
‘Thank you, Uncle. The end result was that Sandyman was a laughing stock, and the will was upheld. There was a good bit of cheering when the Mayor said you were Master of the Hill. He told Sandyman he must pay all rent arrears by the end of the month, which is only a week away, and he sent you his good wishes for a speedy recovery.’ He smiled down at Sam. ‘Oh, I am glad to see you up,’ he said. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘As though I want to be doing something.’
‘Not yet, Sam,’ said Merry. ‘You’ve been very ill, and you’re going to have to be patient.’
By the time Paladin left, it was all too evident to Sam that Merry was right. He was exhausted and glad to get back to bed. Pippin came and sat with him.
‘I miss him, Pippin,’ he whispered, tears prickling in his eyes.
‘Oh, Sam, I know,’ said Pippin taking his hand. ‘I keep expecting to see him walk out of the bathroom towelling his hair, or come whistling up the path from the garden. You know, I never put that together in my mind when I was younger, how happy he was when he’d been out to visit the garden. To visit you. And somewhere in his conversation he would always say “Sam says...” I used to tease him about it, not knowing. Though he didn’t either, from what I understand of things.’
Sam let Pippin chatter on. He drifted into sleep and the chatter smoothed into the sound of waves on the shores of Middle-earth.
When he awoke, the candles were lit, and Rosie was sitting in the chair, embroidering a smock for Elanor. He sat up and didn’t make any difficulty about eating supper in bed. Just the thought of getting up again exhausted him. When he had finished, Rosie moved the tray away, with no comment on the half eaten food, and sat on the bed with him.
‘Frodo left you a letter, Sam,’ she said, holding it out to him. ‘I expects you’ll want to read it in private, maybe when you feels a little better. But I wanted to give it to you.’
Sam’s heart jumped, and he took the letter with shaking hand. He rubbed his thumb over the Baggins’ seal, and could picture Frodo carefully sealing it, letting the warm wax fall and pressing the wooden seal into it. Bilbo used to just stamp it down, but Frodo always pressed it carefully and rocked it to make sure the full print was there. Sam lifted the parchment to his nose and inhaled deeply, trying to find some trace of Frodo’s scent, but all he could smell was wax and ink. Rosie was right: he had no intention of opening it now. He slipped it under his pillow and wiped his eyes with the heel of his palm. Rosie handed him a handkerchief and showed him her present.
‘Frodo left this for me,’ she said. ‘I wanted to open it with you.’ She slid the ribbon free, and the paper fell open on her lap to reveal a jewellery case. A card slipped free with Frodo’s flowing script. Rosie read it, and then passed it to Sam.
My dear Rosie, these were my mother’s, and I can picture how well they will match your beauty. Think of me when you wear them, and remember that I love you. Frodo.
Sam slipped his arm around Rosie, and they cried together. When Rosie finally pressed the catch and lifted the lid to reveal the contents, Sam’s tears made the reflected candlelight shimmer and sparkle. Rosie gasped and slowly lifted a silver necklace out from its velvet bed. There was a matching bracelet, and earrings as well. Sam wiped his eyes again to see better. The necklace had a fine silver chain from which hung a rope pattern as though two smooth strands of silver had been twined loosely together. In the centre, one strand made a small heart shape, while the other dipped down into a V. From the tip of the V hung a small blue stone, set in silver. ‘It’s beautiful,’ whispered Rosie. She slipped it around her neck and fumbled with the catch, then squinted down to settle the stone in the middle.
Sam looked from the sparkling necklace to his wife’s shining eyes. ‘Aye,’ he said. ‘Frodo’s right. It matches your beauty.’
‘Oh, Sam!’ She jumped up and went to look in the mirror, twisting back and forth. She sighed and took if off, placing it carefully back in its box. ‘Not an everyday necklace,’ she said. ‘He must’ve polished it up, there’s not a speck of tarnish on it.’ She touched the bracelet and earrings like tear drops, but did not try them on. Instead, she slipped back next to Sam, and kissed him.
‘I have something for you, Sam,’ she said. ‘But I don’t know when’s the best time to give it you. I think you’ll like it, but I think it’ll make you cry more.’
‘A reminder of Frodo?’
‘Yes.’
‘He told me not to shy away from remembering him. Seems to me as though I’ll cry anyway. I just have to think of him and I cry, so don’t worry about causing me more pain.
‘Then I’ll get it, shall I?’
‘Yes.’
Rosie didn’t have to go far. She slid a flat, oblong parcel out from under the bed. It was wrapped in brown paper. She lifted it onto his lap and folded the paper back.
It was his turn to gasp. How could he have forgotten! And yet he had. There had been Ham’s accident and the worry over Rosie, the announcement of the pregnancy and Frodo restored to him, his hopes dashed and the final parting. Never had he thought to ask about the portraits at the Fair.
Now Frodo gazed at him, amused and sleepy. His chin rested on his hand and his mouth was quirked into a smile. The eyelids drooped slightly, and his regard was just as Sam remembered, not only from the tent but also sitting together late into the night in Minas Tirith with Merry and Pippin. The message had always come to Sam loud and clear: it was time they were in bed. And yet, once there, Frodo was not tired. Not tired at all...
He hastily pushed the picture away, lest his tears spoil it. He would look at it in more detail another time, but for now the pain was gripped tight around his chest. ‘Thank you, Rosie,’ he whispered. ‘I can’t look at it now, not now, but I will. It’s a good likeness.’
‘I thought we could hang it in the study for you,’ said Rosie.
Sam nodded; he already had Frodo’s study earmarked as a place to go and think about Frodo in peace. ‘I don’t want anything else changed in there,’ he said hoarsely.
‘I won’t touch anything, I promise, Sam,’ Rosie answered. ‘Merry has been through the papers, but they were all left out ready. He found the letter there.’ Sam nodded. The study would be the place to read Frodo’s letter. Suddenly a thought occurred to him, and he knew the answer even as he asked the question.
‘What was in that leather tube Frodo carried with him?’ he asked.
Your portrait, Sam,’ said Rosie.
‘Did you intend that, all the time?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you told the painter to make me look enticing.’
Rosie blushed and then smiled at him. ‘Maybe one day you’ll undo your buttons for me like that, Samwise Gamgee,’ she said.
‘But you asked him to paint me like that, knowing it was for Frodo?’
‘Yes.’
‘Oh, Rosie! You are the best of lasses.’
‘I slipped the lock of hair into an envelope and put it in the same tube.’
‘Oh, Rosie!’ he said again, and buried his face in his hands. ‘I can’t help wondering how he is. If he truly lives and if he’s hurting this bad.’
‘Hush love, hush now. They wouldn’t have took him if there were no hope.’
‘He was full of hope, Rosie.’
‘Then we should be, too, my Sam,’ said Rosie gently. ‘We should be, too.’