Sam lay awake, aware of stirrings in the nursery, and sighed. He had hoped Rosie might get a longer sleep after a disturbed night. He rolled over to wrap an arm around his wife, and nuzzled into her hair. ‘It’s all right, lass,’ he murmured. ‘I’ll see if I can settle her.’ Rosie gave Sam a sleepy smile of thanks and closed her eyes to carry on dozing for a little longer, before the reality of another busy day took over.
Pulling himself from the warmth of the bed, Sam tucked the covers snugly around Rosie’s naked body. He quietly dressed and went through to the nursery, to be met with a cheeky grin. Primrose was standing up at the bars of her cot, soft toys strewn across the floor where she had thrown them. She looked very bright, and as chirpy as a fledgling bird - not at all as though she had spent much of the night in inconsolable wails, to the detriment of parental sleep.
Sam lifted her up and carried her through to the kitchen. Jena had arrived and was raking out the fire and getting the new one laid. ‘Good morning, Mr. Mayor,’ she said with a grin, and Sam rolled his eyes as he always did. Jena had made the swap to Bag End years before; it was her sister who now helped with the milking at the farm, but with so many Cotton wives, other help was superfluous. Jena was proud of her position in the Mayor’s household, and try as Sam might, he could not stop her calling him Mr. Mayor to emphasise the point.
Now all he said was, ‘Our visitors arrived late last night, Jena, so breakfast for three extra.’ It was possible they might not rise until later in the day, but if they did appear, food would be ready for them. One-handed, he shifted the kettle onto the hot-plate, and headed back down the smial to chivy children from bed. Elanor’s bed was empty, and Sam was not surprised that she was up early on this day. Rosie-lass blinked sleepily at him, and he bent to kiss her, while Primrose clung to him like a leech.
‘Up you get, my dear,’ he said. ‘Help Goldilocks and Daisy get dressed, and then go and help Jena with breakfast.’
Rosie pouted up at him. ‘Why can’t Elanor help? It’s not fair!’
‘Oh! Not fair, is it?’ said Sam. ‘Well, if it’s fair you want, maybe I’ll set you to cleaning the smial and doing chores when it’s your birthday, and see how you like that. Now, put that lip away, before the wind changes, and do as I bid, my lass.’ He gave Goldilocks and Daisy their good morning kisses in turn, told them to be good for Rosie-lass, and went to turn the boys out of bed. He found Merry and Pippin already up. Overexcited by the prospect of its being Elanor’s birthday, they were attacking Frodo-lad with their pillows.
‘He’s a troll, Dada!’ squealed Pippin, as feathers flew up everywhere.
‘Stop that now!’ said Sam, in the voice that meant they better had, and Frodo emerged from the flurry of feathers looking red in the face. Sam knew his smaller offspring took advantage of Frodo’s solid good humour, knew also how much the small boys adored their big brother. Now, Frodo spat feathers from his mouth and grinned apologetically at his father.
‘Sorry, Dada,’ he said, and Sam laughed.
‘Well, I’m thinking it ain’t you as owe the apology,’ he said. ‘Not unless you begged these small rascals to set about you.’ He raised an eyebrow and fixed Merry and Pippin with a severe look. ‘You, my boys, will have this cleared up before you have any breakfast, do you understand me?’
Merry and Pippin looked at each other and then at their father. ‘Yes, Dada,’ they chorused.
‘Good! Now, Frodo, up you get and pump some water for Jena, please, and Merry, when you’ve cleared up those feathers, help Ham get dressed.’
‘Why can’t Pippin help Ham?’ asked Merry, and there was a definite whine creeping into his voice.
‘Because!’ said Sam.
‘Because what?’ said Merry, always one to answer back.
‘Because you’re old enough for the Master of Buckland to be bringing you a pony back from Rohan, next time he visits King Éomer.’ He shifted Primrose into a more comfortable position on his hip. ‘Unless I’ve got that wrong, and it’s Pip as is old enough.’ He made a play of looking thoughtful, and then turned to Pippin. ‘Pip, you help Ham to...’
Merry jumped up hastily. ‘No, it’s all right, Dada, I’ll do it, but tell Ham not to go curling up in a ball like a hedgepig when I’m trying to do his shirt buttons up for him.’
Sam smiled at his smallest son sitting up in bed and sucking his thumb. ‘Ham, my lad, you behave when Merry’s helping you. Pippin, you sing Ham that song I taught you ’bout the cow and the fiddle, and you have my permission to stop singing if our little Ham ain’t being good.’
Pippin didn’t bother to wait for the feather clearing to be out of the way; he started bouncing on Frodo’s bed, singing, ‘There is an inn, a merry old inn -’
‘Pippin!’ said Sam. ‘Feathers cleared up, or no breakfast! Your good Ma has more than enough to do today, without having to clear up extra mess. And this little moppet,’ he jiggled Primrose who just clung tighter, ‘has been awake most of the night it seems. So be good, ’cause we ain’t going to abide mischief gladly today, seeing as we’re so tired before we even start.’
He left them to it, but wasn’t surprised when there was the patter of feet behind him and a small hand slipped into his. He smiled down at his little shadow.
‘What’ll we do in the garden today, Dada?’ asked Frodo.
‘I think our garden’ll have to look after itself today, my lad,’ said Sam. ‘There won’t be a whole heap of time for minding what needs doing, but if you get a chance to deadhead the primroses, we’ll get some more flowers out of them yet. There’s a rare show of them down in the hollow this year.’ He tickled the flowers’ namesake in his arm, and she giggled. Primrose was a good babe if you kept her with you, a bit like Elanor had been; whatever had ailed the little lass in the night was obviously past, and she was as sunny as the bright spring day on which she’d been born. It wasn’t two weeks since it had been her first birthday that they’d been celebrating. He and Rosie had had the novel experience of having to think of a name for her, the first of their children not seen in Frodo’s vision. It was a puzzle, because Frodo’s vision didn’t seemed to have come to pass yet. A little knot tightened in Sam’s stomach at the recurring and unwelcome thought that they would lose little Primmy to some childhood illness or misadventure. He hugged her tighter and kissed her cheek.
Frodo-lad bounced up and down at his side, pulling on his arm. The youngster might consider himself quite the grown hobbit at thirteen, but he was childish in his delight at the coming party, and Sam smiled down at him. Long ago, Bilbo’s big hall mirror had shown another small hobbit who might have been the twin of his excited son.
In the kitchen Frodo let go of his hand to run and do his chores, and Sam stood Primrose down in order to pour tea for himself and Rosie. Primrose obligingly held her arms up to Jena to be picked up, and Sam took the opportunity to return to Rosie without the babe. He set the mugs of tea down by the bed, and lifted the covers to slip in next to Rosie. She nestled into Sam’s arms with a sigh. He kissed her forehead, and then claimed her mouth as she tilted up her chin.
‘Good morning, my lovely Rose,’ he murmured against her lips, and he felt her smile.
‘I love you, Sam,’ she whispered and pulled his arms closer around her.
‘Mmmm,’ he said, caressing her round curves, ‘maybe I should take some of my clothes off.’
‘I’m a bit tired for your seducing ways, Master Gardner,’ said Rosie, laughter in her eyes and in her voice. ‘And besides...’ She was interrupted by Goldilocks and Daisy bursting in and climbing onto the bed with hugs for Mama, ‘...there’s bound to be some as disturb us.’
Sam shooed his two golden-haired daughters out, and returned to lay at Rosie’s side. He thoughtfully twined her hair about his fingers. The arrival of these two daughters, with their golden hair, had gone a long way to lay to rest rumours about Elanor’s parentage, which still surfaced from time to time. The most common suspect was still the Took, and sometimes there were comments about her Elvish looks. In a strange way, it pained Sam that Frodo’s name was not linked more commonly with his daughter’s; any suggestion that there had been one of Tookish descent living much closer to home was largely scoffed at, but even the suggestion was rare. Frodo seemed as ignored by the inhabitants of Hobbiton in the question of Elanor’s ancestry as he had been ignored in his great service to the Shire. It was only those who had been close to Frodo - those who had seen his Elvish nature - who saw him reflected in his fair daughter. Time after time, when Sam talked to Elanor, he found himself having to bite his tongue before he said, ‘You sound like your dada’ or ‘Your dada used to do that.’ Even when telling her off for stealing mushrooms from Farmer Noakes, back end of the last year, he had had to suppress both a smile and the desire to say, ‘Your dada had dogs set on him for no less, my lass, so just you watch out; terrified of dogs he was, after that.’
‘Penny for your thoughts, Sam,’ said Rosie quietly, and Sam gave a little jump. His gaze, which had slid out of focus, came back to the here and now. He looked into his wife’s eyes.
‘I’m thinking it’s time to tell her, my love,’ he said, following his own train of thought, but Rosie didn’t need to ask whom had to be told what. She nodded and reached up to tuck his hair back; it had not become any less wayward for his advancing years.
‘Yes, agreed. She’s old enough to understand.’ Her fingers continued the flow of movement along his jaw and their tips brushed lightly over his lips. ‘When will you tell her? Today?’
Sam smiled at the touch of her fingers on his lips, and turned his head to catch them with a kiss as they moved on. ‘Not ‘til after the party, I’m thinking,’ he said. ‘Not ‘til after the younger ones are abed. Then I’ll tell her about the Visit as well. It’s likely that King Elessar will see the truth, and if not, Queen Arwen will. Best Elanor knows before then, I think, and... and the time just seems right.’ He rolled Rosie onto her back, following her with his own body, to close his mouth over hers. Despite her tiredness, she was more eager and responsive than she’d been for a few months past.
It had taken him a while, back in the early days, to adjust to the varying rhythms of Rosie’s desire. There was the obvious ebb and flow of interest through her monthly change, but that was not something he was often aware of: so much of the last sixteen years had seen her pregnant or nursing babes, often both. There was a pattern in each pregnancy, with desire ebbing at the beginning and then returning, while in the early months of nursing, Rosie was often too tired to want to do more than kiss and be cuddled. Nature, it seemed, knew what she was about.
Now Sam raised himself on one elbow to smile down at her. ‘How you can be thinking of babies when Primmy just kept you up most of the night, I do not know,’ he said.
‘And who says I’m thinking of babies, Samwise Gardner?’ asked Rosie with indignation.
‘Are you going to tell me you’re not?’ asked Sam incredulously.
‘Of course I’m not, what a thought!’ said Rosie severely, and then snorted with laughter.
‘What?’ asked Sam, his smile widening at her amusement. ‘What’s the joke?’
‘If the next one’s a boy, can we call him Samwise?’ she asked.
Sam made a low growling noise in his throat and pinned her down onto the bed. ‘Oh, so this is you not thinking about babies, is it?’ he asked, and rubbed his clothed body against her naked one.
Rosie arched up against him and wriggled so his erection pushed hard against her opening through the restraining material.
‘Can we?’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Hmmm. I thought you were too tired for my seducing ways.’
Rosie rubbed her nose against his. ‘I mean, can we call him Samwise, if he’s a him?’
‘Oh, is that what you meant, you tease. Well, no.’
‘No? Why ever not?’
‘Because my Ma named me that after her favourite uncle, who was very kind and gentle and all, but very simple. I don’t think she ever realised it wasn’t his given name, but more of a joke. He always was Uncle Samwise to her, and I don’t believe she ever thought on what it meant.’
’Oh. You don’t like your name, then? I never realised.’
‘I like it well enough on the lips of those I love,’ said Sam. And Frodo could make it sound like poetry. ‘But the likes of Sandyman are always quick to twist it.’
‘What about just Sam, then?’
‘No, I don’t think so. If the next is a boy, then I’d like to call him Bilbo, if you ain’t got no objections. But we shouldn’t be counting our blessings, there might not be any next, and if there weren’t, well, we’re truly blessed already.’
‘Oh, Sam.’ She kissed him. ‘We are, at that.’ Her hands found and loosened the buttons of his breeches. ‘You can seduce me later,’ she whispered into his ear as she released his full and eager shaft. Sam didn’t need the further invitation of her guiding hand; he thrust deep into her generous warmth and moaned as he moved within her. He was familiar enough with all her moods of lovemaking to know that now she just wanted him to come, that sometimes she just enjoyed feeling him pulsing within her. There was, in any case, no time for the slow build necessary to bring Rosie to a full and satisfying conclusion; they might be interrupted again at any time, and the call to breakfast would not - could not - be long delayed. He accepted what she was offering on this day of memories, and came with low moans of pleasure, each exhalation matched by another pulse of his seed into the waiting welcome of Rosie’s womb.
He lowered himself back down to lie on her and kissed his way over her face. ‘I love you, lass,’ he murmured, just before he closed his lips over hers. They lay together, feeling at peace, until Sam’s soft shaft slipped from the nest that was Rosie, and he moved to stretch for a towel to stem the flow of his fluid. He dried her and himself, and readjusted his clothing as Rosie sat up and pulled her dressing gown on. The tea was cold but they drank it anyway, and after another lingering kiss, Sam left Rosie to get dressed while he went in search of the birthday girl.
He had a good idea where to look, and headed out to the orchard, the grass still wet and chill beneath his feet. The sky was clear though, which boded well for the day warming into party weather. It was very rare for them to have bad weather on Elanor’s birthday, but when that happened, the smial took a deal of clearing up afterwards. Much simpler when all the mess was out in the garden and Party Field. Elanor’s birthdays were always full of happy chaos, as Tooks and Brandybucks joined the hordes of Cotton cousins, a fact that added to the Hobbiton speculation about Elanor’s origins.
Sam looked around the garden with satisfaction. It was full of the fresh greens of spring, and the daffodils were putting on a good show. He held imaginary conversation with his old Gaffer about what needed to be done; there was still an ache in his heart from that loss, and he felt a rush of love for his father’s understanding wrapped up in his gruffness and dry wit. ‘Thank you, Dada,’ he whispered to the breeze. Eight years the old hobbit had been gone now, and Sam still missed him during quiet moments in the garden. The Gaffer had often come and sat in the garden in his latter years and reminisced to his son about Bilbo and Frodo; often the same stories, but Sam never minded.
Somewhere in this busy day, there would be a period of retreat into the study for his own memories of Frodo to be called forth, and later... later he would tell Elanor who her father was.
The orchard trees were all mature now, mostly good cropping apple trees - eaters and cookers - but also harvested in their season would be cherries, plums and pears. The flowers were already present as tight buds, with pink tips just visible amongst close-furled green sepals; soon the whole orchard would erupt in a mass of blossom, and later the petals would carpet the ground as the fruit set. There was no sign of Elanor, but Sam made his unerring way to the tree with a swing hanging from a strong branch, and looked up into the leaves. One brown leg hung down from the greenery above, but of its owner there was no sign.
‘Elanorellë,’ called Sam softly, but there was no reaction. The leg swung lazily to and fro; no doubt she was in a world of her own. He called louder, and there was a glad cry of ‘Sam-dad!’ and the leg jerked and disappeared. Amidst a flurry of leaves, Elanor appeared hanging upside down, her knees hooked over the branch. As usual, she was wearing an old pair of breeches and a baggy jumper that bunched up under her arms to reveal braces and a cotton shirt. She held out her arms and he stepped into an upside down hug and kiss.
‘Happy birthday, sweetheart,’ he said, returning the kiss. She smiled and swung to grasp the branch and pull herself up again so she could scramble down the tree. She had hardly touched the ground before she sprang into his arms to be swung around in breathless laughter.
‘You’re getting too big for this, my dear,’ Sam said, setting her down, but laughing at her laughter. ‘Either that, or your poor old Sam-dada is getting too old and weak. Breakfast is almost ready.’
‘Did they come last night? Did they? Did they?’ asked Elanor, jumping up and down in her excitement. ‘I thought Fastred might come and find me here.’
‘Yes, they came, as you’d know if you’d thought to look in the stables,’ said Sam, as they headed back to the smial. ‘But they ain’t up yet, as I know of. The Thain’s brought young Faramir as well.’
Elanor waved her hand to dismiss Faramir. ‘Oh, he’s just a baby,’ she said.
‘He’s six next month,’ said Sam. ‘Diamond couldn’t come, not wanting to travel and risk another miscarriage, and Faramir will go back with Peregrin tomorrow.’
‘Then Fastred’s staying!’ exclaimed Elanor in delight. ‘Oh, he is, isn’t he?’
‘Yes, Fastred’s staying for a while before going back to Greenholm, but I don’t want the pair of you disappearing after the party. I want to talk to you, my Ellie.’
Elanor stopped prancing around him and fetched up in front of him, her eyes sparkling. ‘It’s about the letter, isn’t it?’ she said, and Sam forgot to keep walking and stared at her in dismay.
‘How do you know about the letter?’ he said with difficulty.
Elanor stood on tiptoe to kiss him on the nose. ‘Oh, Sam-dad, you’re not nearly clever enough if you think you’ve kept it hidden. It came by the Southfarthing post last week. I saw you take it in. All wrapped in white silk and sealed with great black seals! It’s from the King, isn’t it?’
Sam felt his breath come more easily. That letter! He raised his eyebrow and looked severely at her. ‘Well, I’ll swear you didn’t see the white silk and the black seals as I was taking it in,’ he said. ‘You were nowhere near.’
Elanor had the decency to blush and stammer in her answer. ‘No, dada-dear, but how could I resist getting a closer look? I didn’t read it, honestly.’
Sam suddenly laughed. ‘And I suppose you learnt your spying from the Red Book,’ he said. ‘How we do get paid back in our own coin. I spied on...’ he hesitated, forcing back ‘your dada,’ saying instead, ‘Frodo of the Ring, and now here I am, the victim of your bright eyes. Well, your punishment will be wondering all day if it truly is from the King, because I’m not saying another word until this evening. Have you told the others?’
‘No, of course not. It’s a secret, isn’t it?’
Sam ruffled her hair. ‘Yes. It’s a secret for the moment. Now come and have some breakfast, and maybe Fastred will be up.’
The day went by in a whirl of activity and merriment. Meriadoc and Estella arrived in the afternoon, having stopped at the Floating Log the night before. Their son, Théodoc, was barely four, but well used to such rumbustious company. It gladdened Sam’s heart that Estella had persevered in her pursuit of Merry, and that finally his friend had fallen to her charm. It was only a shame that Saradoc had not lived to see his grandson.
Peregrin joined Sam and Rosie in a warm welcome of the newcomers, and as soon as they decently could, the three Counsellors of the North Kingdom - the Thain, the Master of Buckland and the Mayor - pleaded urgent business and disappeared into the study together to talk about Frodo.
‘You’re looking as magnificent as always, Merry,’ said Sam, shutting the door behind them. Pippin produced a bottle of Southfarthing wine and a corkscrew, and there was a ‘pop’ as he drew the cork. Sam set out glasses, and they raised a toast to the portrait.
‘To Frodo!’ they said softly, and Pippin added, ‘May he be happy and whole.’ He set his glass down, looking a little misty-eyed, and patted Merry’s waistcoat.
‘That’s new, my friend,’ he said. ‘Very, erm, startling. I feel I need to look at you through smoked glass, or risk my eyesight.’
Sam wiped his eyes and turned from Frodo’s portrait to get the full effect of Merry’s bright golden-yellow silk waistcoat. Magnificent didn’t begin to describe it. The fact that Merry’s girth had expanded under Estella’s care just made it seem all the more as though the sun had come to join them in the study. Pippin’s joke about smoked glass was well made, but it was wonderful to see Merry looking so happy.
‘How are you, Merry?’ he said, as he hugged him again, although he didn’t really need to ask. It wasn’t just Merry’s waistcoat that glowed.
‘Well, thank you,’ answered Merry, laughing. ‘And I may have been slow to start, and have no hope of catching you two up in the matter of fecundity, but Estella is expecting again.’ Pippin let out a whoop, and hastily placed his glass on the desk before he spilt any of the dark red wine. The three of them embraced and another toast was drunk, this time to the House of Brandybuck and the fair Estella.
‘What about Diamond?’ asked Merry gently, and Pippin bowed his head against Merry’s shoulder.
‘We’re hopeful,’ he said. ‘But, well, with two miscarriages...’ He sighed and then looked up with a smile. ‘But at least we have Faramir,’ he finished. ‘It’s harder on Diamond. I’d love more children, but I have so many that I wouldn’t have minded if she’d wanted to stop with one.’
They separated, and Sam sat in the armchair, facing Frodo; Pippin sat on the arm, and Merry took the chair at the desk. There was no point Sam protesting at the lack of courtesy in this arrangement; custom had established that he got to sit facing Frodo.
‘How are you, Sam?’ asked Pippin, stretching out to top up Merry’s glass, before attending to Sam’s and his own. ‘You look tired.’
‘Oh, you know how it is,’ said Sam. ‘Primmy had a bad night.’ His companions nodded. They knew how it was.
‘But how are you feeling today?’ asked Merry, raising his glass towards Frodo’s picture.
‘Not much time to think about it,’ said Sam, ‘truth be told. That’s not to say I ain’t thinking about Frodo, but well, this is Elanor’s birthday now, and what with all the little ones and the Royal Visit and all, there’s not much time to dwell on the past.’
‘Good,’ said Merry. ‘That’s what Frodo wanted, Sam. You know that, don’t you?’
‘And that you should be happy with it,’ added Pippin. ‘He loved the thought of you busy and happy with your family around you. I look at you, Sam, and it gives me a warm glow to think how the possibility of this future made Frodo able to leave. I’ve no doubt it was the best thing for him.’
Sam smiled up at Pippin, perched beside him. He knew that Pippin knew this was what worried him the most, and Pippin let no opportunity go by when he could reassure Sam: Frodo’s leaving was not just for Sam’s sake, but held a good promise of healing for Frodo.
They slipped into reminiscences about Frodo, their eyes turning to his likeness at frequent intervals. Finally, they fetched up at Elanor and how like Frodo she was. It was more indefinable than her looks, or even her little unconscious mannerisms that recalled her father to them, endearing as those were.
‘It’s like seeing the spirit of Frodo,’ said Merry at last. ‘She is so like him in herself.’ Sam swirled the wine in his glass and thought his own thoughts while watching the dark wine settle to stillness again. Yes, she had so many of Frodo’s traits. She could be very sociable, but she liked her solitude as well. She loved reading, and she didn’t seem to care a fig for what public opinion thought of her. Her imagination was boundless.
‘I’m going to tell her tonight,’ he said suddenly. He looked up, and the others sat up straight.
‘Let us know if we can help,’ said Pippin quietly. ‘If she doesn’t understand, maybe it would help to hear about Frodo from us as well.’
‘Good luck, Sam,’ said Merry. ‘I think you are wise in this, but it will be a shock to her at first. Frodo is a great figure of legend in her eyes; it will be difficult for her to reconcile his great sacrifice with the hobbit who wanted his lover safe and his own child to live on after him. How much will you tell her?’
‘Not that we were lovers,’ said Sam quickly, ‘though she has grown up knowing that we loved each other, and what pain was involved in our parting. The rest must come later.’ He stood up. ‘But now I think we should join our families.’
The three of them drained their glasses, and followed the sounds of childish laughter that led them out of the smial and into the warm spring day. The very sizeable Cotton family had arrived, including old Tom and Lily, both nearing a hundred years old, but sound in mind, if a little creaky in body. Young Tom and Jolly fetched chairs for the gammer and gaffer, while Sam collected up a tray of glasses and more wine.
Rosie and Estella stood around with the Cotton lasses, keeping a wary eye for tumbles or disputes amongst their offspring, nursing babes and talking the talk of mothers everywhere, while their husbands discussed the weather, crops, viniculture and horses. In Sam’s opinion, it was probably just as well that the Gamgee cousins were unable to make the trip to join in these gatherings - Frodo’s garden might not have withstood the onslaught; there were nearly thirty children as it was. The teens good-naturedly helped the toddlers with the intricacies of a treasure hunt, and Merry-lad took little Théo under his wing to take him round the orchard and Party Field, following clues. It was a well-known fact that you didn’t dress your children up for a Bag End party, not unless you wanted to be getting grass stains out of clothes and mending tears for weeks afterwards.
Jena laid out food on the kitchen table for hungry hobbits to help themselves, and Sam handed her a glass of wine, enjoying the feeling of life and vitality that seemed to emanate from the old smial. The home was a lot more battered these days, but Sam felt this was a good thing. It was nothing that some sanding, polishing and painting wouldn’t fix, and stood testament to the rough and tumble of family life.
The grown-ups let the children fill their plates and disappear back into the garden, and then seated themselves around the large table for a quieter tea, relying on the oldest teens - Fastred, Holman, Elanor, and Frodo - to keep the peace outside. It was a cheerful gathering, and when the Cottons had all left, with each child carrying a small present, those remaining carried straight on into supper.
Clearing up took some time, as did persuading overexcited youngsters to bed. Young Merry and Pippin were particularly exuberant.
‘What I say is, it’s a mistake to feed them,’ said Meriadoc as they jumped around him, wanting a story. He himself was standing behind Estella, who was leaning back in his arms. He bent his head to nuzzle into her hair, and she turned to kiss him.
His small namesake made an ‘eeeeew!’ noise of disgust. ‘Ma and Da do that all the time,’ he said sympathetically to Théo.
‘Glad to hear it,’ said Peregrin, ruffling Merry-lad’s hair. ‘Now if you help us get the little ones into bed, there’ll be a story in it for you.’ Elanor looked at her Sam-dada.
‘Go on, bright eyes,’ said Sam. ‘You go as well, and then come and find me in the study later.’ Frodo started to complain, but Sam held up his hand. ‘Special dispensation,’ he said, ‘because it’s Elanor’s birthday.’
‘But Dada,’ protested Merry-lad. ‘You promised us the end of the Red Book.’
‘Well it ain’t quite the end, since I’ve not written that, yet,’ said Sam. ‘But you’re right. We’ll have a reading after the little ones are in bed and then you can have the honour of the Thain telling you a story. You must go to bed with no arguments afterwards, mind!’
‘Yes, Dada.’
The reading of the Red Book had gone on for months, with omissions of anything Sam deemed too frightening for Merry and Pippin. The four youngest of his children were not allowed to join in this treat, but it was the second time that Elanor and Frodo had heard the story. Elanor had also read it for herself, sitting in the study armchair when Sam was present, but only after her hands had been inspected to make sure they were clean.
This evening, when Sam finished reading and came to the end of the written story, he closed the book and told them about Frodo’s leaving on the ship. Elanor sat on the arm of the chair, one arm draped around her Sam-dad’s shoulders, while Frodo, Rosie, Merry and Pippin sat on foot stools. After some questions and grumblings, those denied Elanor’s good fortune in being allowed to stay up left, carrying the footstools back to the sitting room, and Elanor kissed the top of Sam’s head.
‘Tell me about Lorien,’ she said softly. ‘Does my flower grow there still?’
‘Well, Celeborn is still there,’ said Sam.
‘Sam-dada?’
He looked at her, and the candles threw a soft golden light on her face, so that she almost seemed to glow. ‘Yes, my dear?’
‘I would like to see the hill of Amroth where the King met Arwen, and the little white niphredil, and the golden elanor in the grass that is always green. And I would like to hear Elves singing.’
‘Then maybe you will one day, my Elanorellë, and that sooner than you think. I never thought I would, but I did. I saw them and heard them.’ He smiled at her. ‘Though now I have you to look at, I don’t have the urge to seek them out.’
‘I was afraid they were all sailing away, Sam-dad. That soon there would be none left here, and then... then everything would be just places!’ she finished in a rush, ‘and the light would have faded.’
‘I know,’ said Sam gently. ‘The light is fading. It won’t go out yet - maybe won’t ever go out while there are those who remember it, even if they have never seen it; but the seeing was something, Elanorellë!’
‘Like being in a story?’ asked Elanor. ‘I wish I could be in a story.’
Sam laughed. ‘You know my answer to that,’ he said, ‘for you know what Frodo of the Ring and I had to say about stories: nice to think about, sitting comfortably together here, but not at all nice to be in. We were hunted and frightened, hungry and exhausted, and we didn’t know how it would end. And your... and Frodo suffered cruelly, and it wasn’t a nice happy ending for him here, was it? Having to give up his home, and his loved ones.’
Elanor was silent for a while before patting Sam’s arm. ‘I didn’t understand at first what Celeborn said to the King, when he said about how he hoped the King’s treasure would stay with him to the end, unlike his. Arwen is the King’s treasure, isn’t she? And Celeborn must have known that Galadriel would leave him, and that was his treasure. I think it was very sad for him.’ Her hand felt for his as she looked earnestly into his eyes. ‘And sad for you, Sam-dad, because your treasure went, too.’
Sam’s brown hand folded over her slender fingers, and he kissed her, blinking back tears.
‘It was sad, Elanorellë,’ he said gently. ‘But, well, it isn’t now. For one thing, Frodo has gone where the elven-light isn’t fading, and there is hope for a happy ending for him there. If any one deserved that reward, it was him. But I have my reward, too. I have lots of treasures. I am a very rich hobbit, and that would be true if I didn’t have a penny to my name, because you are my treasure.’
Elanor squeezed his hand. ‘You say the nicest things, Sam-dad,’ she said.
‘Well, now I’m going to tell you two things, and the first is that before Frodo went away, he told me my time maybe would come. That I would be allowed to seek the elven-light as well and follow him on his great journey. I can wait. It’s a long way away, perhaps not until I’m as old as your Granfather Cotton, or older, but I think maybe Frodo and I haven’t said farewell for good, and I can wait. I have learnt that much from the Elves at any rate. They are not so troubled about time. And so I like to think that Celeborn is still happy among his trees, in an Elvish way. His time hasn’t come, and he isn’t tired of his land yet. When he is tired, he can go.’
Elanor pulled her hand free to clap in delight. ‘And when you’re tired, you will go, Sam-dad. You will go to the Havens with the Elves, and I shall come with you! I shall not part from you like Arwen did from Elrond!’
‘Maybe, but maybe not, my Elanorellë,’ said Sam gently.
Elanor slipped her hand back into his and digested this. ‘I am glad Frodo of the Ring saw me,’ she said after a silence. ‘But I wish I could remember seeing him. I love reading the Red Book, and thinking he wrote those words, sitting at the desk there.’
‘He saw you, held you, sang to you, loved you,’ said Sam. ‘He was a real hobbit, and made hard choices.’ He reached into his inner pocket and brought out the envelope. ‘And this is the letter I wanted to talk to you about.’
‘Oh, but that’s not the letter from the King!’ said Elanor, disappointment showing on her face and in her voice.
‘Maybe you’re right,’ said Sam. ‘Maybe we should talk about that letter first.’ It wasn’t that he was putting it off, he told himself. Best to tell her of the Royal Visit now, rather than right after telling her that her father was Frodo of the Ring.
He stood up and took out the letter wrapped in white silk, with a broken black seal. ‘Yes, you were right,’ he said. ‘It is from the King.’ He unrolled the scroll and handed it to Elanor to read, and laughed as she carefully checked her hands were clean first. She read it slowly and looked up with shining eyes.
‘He’s coming here! In a week!’
‘Well, to the Brandywine Bridge. He made a law to say no Man may enter the Shire, and he’s showing us it applies to him as well, King or no. Do you see?’
Elanor nodded. ‘We’re all invited by name,’ she said in awe. ‘What will we wear? My best dress is too small.’ She bit her lip, and Sam almost laughed aloud. Rosie had assured him that when there was the need, Elanor would be as interested in wearing pretty dresses as the next lass.
‘No need to fret,’ he told her. ‘It’s all in hand. You will all have beautiful clothes ready in time. We’ve had plenty of warning of this, bright eyes, months before the official invitation came, and your Ma has everything in hand. Now, be a good lass, and keep it secret, because the little ones will get so excited likely they’ll be sick and not sleep. However, I think the King and Queen will be particularly interested in you, my dear.’
Elanor stopped jumping for joy and looked puzzled. ‘Why, Sam-dad?’ she asked.
‘Well, now,’ said Sam, clearing his throat and wishing his heart wasn’t beating so fast. ‘The answer to that is in this other letter, though I don’t know what it says rightly. It’s addressed to you.’
‘To me? Oh, but that’s the same writing as in the Red Book! How can a letter have come to me from Frodo of the Ring?’
‘He left it for you, and told me to decide when you were ready to read it. I think you’re ready now, but... Oh, Elanorellë! I can’t be sure.’
She stared at him. ‘Why? Why did he do that?’ she asked.
‘I think it best if I tell you first, and then you can read his words afterwards, Elanor, my dear. And first I’m going to say I love you very much. Come and sit in my lap, my treasure.’
She sat sideways on his knees and wrapped her arms around his neck. ‘What is it, Dada?’ she asked.
‘I’m not your true dada, dear one. I adopted you because I love you and I love your dada dearly.’
All colour had drained from Elanor’s face, and she looked at the letter still in Sam’s hand. ‘Frodo of the Ring?’ she whispered. ‘Frodo is my dada?’
‘Yes, Frodo is your dada. There is so much to tell you, so much to explain, I don’t know where to begin.’
‘Mama?’ said Elanor, her voice shaking.
‘Is your Mama.’
‘Oh, Dada!’ she said, ‘but that means... He was your friend! Did he want Mama to marry him?’
‘No, dearest. He’ll probably explain better than ever I can, but do you remember what your father wrote about when I thought he was dead, after he’d been bitten by Shelob? I’ve not read it aloud, but do you remember from when you read it?’
Elanor nodded. ‘I had to read it twice to understand what he meant. He was saying you thought of killing yourself, wasn’t he, Dada?’
‘He was, and I did think that. It’s maybe hard for you to understand loving someone so much that you don’t want to go on living after they’ve gone. You’ve heard us say that he would have died if he stayed? Well, he wanted to leave because he thought I might die if he died. He thought I might die anyway, and he knew your Mama and I were sweethearts before, so he asked your Mama to persuade me to marry her. He thought if I had her to love and a family, that I would be safe.’
He hugged Elanor close; she was trembling, and he could only hope she was listening to what he was saying. ‘But when he was ill,’ he continued, ‘then I was ill as well, and your Mama was still afraid she would lose me when Frodo left. You have to understand they both love me, my Elanorellë, and your Mama thought that maybe I would be more likely to live through the parting if I had Frodo’s child to look after. Frodo saw you in a vision of his, and he wanted you very much, my dear. He loves you; he very nearly stayed and died because he couldn’t bear the idea of you thinking he left you. But in the end, he would have died if he stayed, and he knew I loved you as my own, and he trusted me to take his place as your dada.’ He tilted her chin up and kissed her. ‘He told me to tell you that he loves you, Elanorellë. He held you as a baby, and he was so proud of you. Peregrin and Meriadoc can tell you the same thing. He loved you so much, and I’ve no doubt he is alive and is loving you still.’
Slowly, she unravelled her arms from around his neck and took the letter with shaking hands. She stared at it.
‘It is private, between you and him,’ Sam said gently. ‘He wanted you to know no one else had read it before you, so he sealed it for you.’ He stood up, lifting Elanor with him, and then sat her back in the armchair.
‘Would you like a little wine?’ he asked, but she shook her head. He sat down at the desk and leaned forward. ‘I’d like it best if you sat there to read it, but if you want to go somewhere else, you may, my dear. If you’ve got any questions, I’ll try and answer them for you. And you can talk to Mama; she just wanted me to be the one to tell you, so you know I’m happy you’re my daughter, and I love you very much.’ He shut up; her silence was disconcerting him, but there was no point talking just to fill it.
She turned the envelope over and ran her finger over the seal, and Sam was reminded painfully of opening his own letter when their lovely Elanor was just a babe. She broke the seal, and Sam was in two minds as to whether to leave her, but decided that he really had no idea how she was feeling, and it was better to stay.
Elanor read the letter slowly, and she was in tears when she finally laid it in her lap and looked at Sam. He moved to hug her, but she met him halfway, leaping to her feet to throw her arms around him and sob. He held her to his breast, making soothing noises, until she calmed a little. She raised her head, and he looked where she was looking: Frodo’s portrait.
‘He sends you his love, Sam-dada,’ she whispered, and Sam made a small choking noise as his own tears came. It wasn’t only the message; even before - just watching Elanor read words from Frodo - the wound of the parting had opened and bled within him. And it was more than that. “Dada!” She still called him “dada,” and he realised how he had feared he might lose his place in her heart.
Elanor turned to him and pressed her lips to his wet cheek. ‘And he told me to kiss you, when you cried,’ she said. ‘He is very wise, isn’t he, Dada?’
‘The wisest person in the world, my dear child,’ answered Sam, kissing her back.
‘It’s funny,’ said Elanor, and her voice made it clear she did not mean amusing. ‘Even with you and Mama talking about him so often, and his picture on the wall and all, he never seemed real before; he has always been Frodo of the Ring in the Red Book, but now...’ she hesitated and looked at Sam. ‘Now, he seems very real. I wish, more than ever, I could remember him.’
‘Just before he went, you called him “Dada,”’ said Sam, and now his tears came in earnest at the memory of that morning. ‘It was his last memory of you. Your mama will tell you that she had to carry you away from him, because he couldn’t leave you.’
‘Oh, Sam-dad, I can’t bear to think of how he suffered.’
‘But you eased his suffering, my dear. You truly did.’ He took the handkerchief back to dry her face. ‘Now, give your Sam-dada another kiss, and find your Mama; I’m afraid she will need to cry as well. Then you must go to bed, and we can talk some more in the morning.’
Obediently, she kissed him. ‘I love you, Dada,’ she said. ‘Will you tell me all about him?’
Sam smiled down at his daughter’s serious face, deeply moved by the simple expression of her love. ‘Yes, I’ll enjoy that,’ he said. She turned to go, clutching the letter to her, and then turned back biting her lip.
‘I’m glad... I’m glad that it isn’t true about the Thain being my father,’ she said, ‘because then I couldn’t marry Fastred when I’m older. Goodnight, Dada.’
She disappeared, leaving Sam with his mouth open. He had not known that she was aware of the gossip, nor that she might have seriously thought of marrying Fastred. She was just a teen, albeit a teen who had always known her own mind. He sat down suddenly in the armchair and looked at the portrait. ‘She’s as full of surprises as you, me dear,’ he said hoarsely. He blew his nose and then laughed. ‘I wonder if Fastred will have a say in the matter,’ he said. ‘She’s her mother’s daughter as well, I reckon.’
He was just reaching for the wine he had offered Elanor earlier, before going to find his Rose and see how she fared, when the Captains appeared in the open doorway. He waved them in, and filled glasses for them all.
‘So,’ said Merry, taking the perch on the chair arm this time, ‘how did it go? Is she very upset?’
Sam sipped his wine and thought how to answer this. ‘Well, yes and no,’ he said, and Pippin rolled his eyes.
‘Now, don’t go getting all Elvish on us, Sam,’ he said. ‘A plain answer, I beg you. Merry and I have been pacing around like two caged beasts, waiting to hear what happened.’
‘I think it hasn’t fully sunk in,’ said Sam, ‘and so it’s hard to know what she’ll think given time, but for now it went well. Better than I expected. She was upset, but it was as though she was more upset for Frodo.’ He sighed deeply. ‘And she called me “Dada”, and said she loved me.’
‘Of course,’ said Merry. ‘You didn’t really think that would change, did you?’
‘I didn’t rightly know what to think,’ said Sam. ‘But I think it was made easier by the fact she’d obviously given some thought to whether I was her dada or not.’
‘She had?’ said Pippin, and Sam laughed again and downed his wine.
‘She said she’s glad you aren’t her father, Pip,’ he said, and Pippin narrowly avoided spluttering wine over the papers spread on the desk.
‘What!’ he said. He mopped at his clothes and glared at Merry and Sam, who were leaning against each other shaking with laughter at his reaction.
‘I don’t know why you’re laughing,’ he said, with as much dignity as he could muster. ‘I’ll have you know I’m a very good father. I’m sorry Elanor has heard the gossip, but really, I don’t see why she should object if I were her father.’
Sam refilled the Thain’s glass, and smiled at him with great affection. ‘Because, Pippin, she is no fool, and she knows she can’t have Fastred as a sweetheart if you are her father.’
Pippin’s eyes went very wide, and then he let out a whoop of joy for the second time that day. ‘Fastred? Elanor? Oh! Wouldn’t that be the finest thing!’ he cried.
‘I think that would be a union whose issue would make the Shire sit up and take notice,’ said Merry, in all seriousness. ‘Another interesting mix of Baggins, Took and Brandybuck.’
‘Well, let’s not count the eggs in the basket before we’ve even got any chickens to lay them,’ said Sam. ‘But I can’t deny, it’s a match as would make me very happy.’ He stood up. ‘Help yourselves to the wine, my friends. I need to find Rosie.’
Rosie was standing on the threshold of Bag End, gazing up at the clear sky. Sam joined her there and looked up at the stars shining on them. Star-gazing always brought Frodo to mind, and this day Frodo had never been far from his thoughts. He looked to the east and saw again, in his imagination, the dread light of Orodruin. He drew Rose close to him and wiped tears from her eyes.
‘This day seventeen years ago, Rose wife, I did not think I would ever see the Shire or you again,’ he said. ‘But I kept on hoping.’
‘And I never hoped at all,’ she answered softly. ‘Not until that very day, and then I knew you were coming back. And you came.’
‘Aye, I came. And you never despaired of me being well and whole again. I was torn in two, and now I’m not. This is the belovedest place in all the world, I have my lovely Rosie, and a fine family, and my memories are as clear and fresh as the Lord Elrond promised me.’ He bent his head and claimed her mouth, stroking her lips with his tongue so that she opened to him. She pressed against him, and as they separated, she laid her head on his shoulder and sighed.
‘Did Elanor find you?’ he asked, running his hands down her back and kissing her lightly on the top of her curls. She smelt of the spicy warmth of the kitchen.
‘Yes, Elanor found me. She hugged me and gave me Frodo’s love and... and...’ Rosie sounded tearful again, but her face was hidden against his chest.
‘And she kissed you when you cried, and told you Frodo told her to,’ Sam finished for her. ‘Who would have thought our lovely girl would be the one comforting us over this,’ he added in wonder. ‘Has she gone to bed now?’
‘Yes, but I doubt as she’ll sleep.’
‘A birthday to remember, I should think,’ agreed Sam. ‘It was a lovely party. You must be tired, lass.’
‘Maybe,’ said Rosie quietly, ‘and maybe not.’ She toyed with the buttons of his waistcoat.
‘And what does it depend on?’ asked Sam, brushing his fingers lightly over her breasts.
‘On how seductive you’re feeling,’ said Rosie, and smiled up at him.
‘Mmmm. I’ll light the fire in our room, and put some oil to warm,’ said Sam, ‘and we’ll see if our little Primmy will oblige us. Let’s go and make excuse to our guests.’
‘Estella’s retired already,’ said Rosie, and her hand slipped between them to caress the bulge in his breeches. ‘I doubt Merry’ll be long in following her. I’d love one of your massages, but not one of the sleepy ones, mind.’
‘No,’ said Sam. ‘It wasn’t one of the sleepy ones I had in mind.’ He drew her inside and closed the door, but as he did so he heard suddenly, deep and unstilled, the sigh and murmur of the Sea upon the shores of Middle-earth.
‘Never fear, my dearest,’ he thought. ‘I will come to you.’