Elanor lay staring at the ceiling. The quiet breathing of her sisters told her she was alone in her wakefulness, even before she turned her head to look at them in the barest light of predawn. Her half-sisters, she corrected herself. It was a strange feeling, as though she wasn’t who she’d thought she was. And yet... and yet she was still Elanor.
She rolled on her side and slipped her hand beneath her pillow to pull out the letter. She had read it twice more before she went to bed, her heart beating as fast as the first time in Sam-dad’s study. All the time, during her first reading, she had been aware of his quiet regard and - dear dada that he was - his worry. The worry had been there in the written word, as well. Both her dadas worrying she might be hurt by this astounding discovery.
She wasn’t quite sure what she felt. Surprise, awe - even some relief that doubts and fears were out in the open, and that Fastred was no brother of hers - but no hurt. The insidious whispers had filtered down to her in childish blurtings of half-understood conversations, but Elanor had largely ignored them when younger. Sam-dad was... Sam-dad, her best beloved Sam-dad, and knowing Frodo was her dada didn’t alter that fact in the slightest. But who was Frodo? He had suddenly become so much more than Frodo of the Ring. If there was any hurt, it was that his hurt had been made real to her for the first time; his hurt and Mama’s. Sam-dad’s hurt she had always been aware of, although the knowledge that Frodo was his treasure had come more slowly as she read the Red Book.
She slipped from her bed in the dim light, which allowed her to dress and to negotiate Rose’s bed without falling over the corner of it. Once in Sam-dad’s study, she lit candles to help her read, but before sitting down with the letter again she stood in front of Frodo’s portrait, and looked at it as she never had before. She studied each feature, trying to see herself. His eyes held hers, and she smiled back at him; he seemed to be sharing some secret with her, and for the first time she wondered when the portrait had been painted. He looked relaxed and happy, sleepy and amused, but there was no doubting that the picture was after Mordor: the missing finger stood testament to that.
Elanor looked at him thoughtfully. Frodo-dad! She was still of an age when all grown-ups looked old, but Frodo looked young compared to Sam-dad. Yet she knew from the book that he must have been over fifty when the picture was painted, and she still remembered when dear Sam-dad had his fiftieth birthday, so they ought to look of an age. She touched his face and rather self-consciously kissed his cheek. Are you alive, Frodo-dad? she thought. Are you healed?
She ran her fingers over the Red Book on its stand, and then curled into the armchair with the letter in her hand. Slowly, she unfolded it and settled down to read it yet again.
My dear Elanor,
There are two things I need you to know, and were I simply to tell them to you, this would be a very short letter. However, they seem to me a good place to start.
You are my daughter. I love you.
Elanor looked up to the portrait and wiped a tear away with the heel of her palm. She was very careful not to let any dampness touch the paper, and she wiped her hand on her old breeches before continuing. The next line was the reason she had returned to the study - that, and the portrait.
I sit in the study at Bag End - your home still, I hope - and I feel great pain that I will soon walk from here and leave you forever. Forgive me, my sweetheart. I will die if I stay. My dear Sam and sweet Rosie know this as well as I. As the leaves fall, I will fail in my strength, and I will be no more to you than a mound where you can lay flowers in my memory. Instead, I choose to accept the great grace offered to me, and depart with the Elves to a place outside this world. That may sound like death to you, but it is not. Even though I cannot return to hold you in my arms again, I will be thinking of you and picturing you as you grow into a beautiful woman.
Elanor looked up and nodded to the portrait. ‘I do understand,’ she whispered. ‘Mama told me how poorly you were, and how you nearly died before I was born.’ His face looked thin, but then distant relations of the pat-you-on-the-head and treat-you-as-a-five-year-old variety usually clucked over her, telling Sam-dad that her face was too thin; just as though she weren’t standing there listening. Sam-dad always replied that his Elanorellë was perfect and reminded him of an elf-maid, and you couldn’t get fairer than that. Sam-dad always made her feel special, and now Frodo’s letter was having the same effect on her. She read on.
I love you, Elanor. You are a blessing and a joy to me. I wonder how I can explain that you were conceived, not on some whim of passion, but with foreknowledge of you, yourself. Conceived out of the love your mama and I bear for your Sam-dada, conceived because I wanted my Elanor to be born. Maybe the best way is to let you see what I see.
First then, my vision from long before you came into being, from long before I even realised the truth of who you are.
I see a great crowd of hobbits gathered by the Brandywine River. There is great excitement and an air of festivity. Everywhere that a garland can be hung, it has been hung. Crowds surge over the Bridge in colourful confusion, but I know I am not one with them. I can only see what I am granted, cannot turn around or look about me. None are aware of me, and I am not aware of my own self. I have sight and sound, but that is all. I know it is a warm day because the good hobbits who fill the scene shed their coats and wipe their brows, but I do not feel the sun warm my body. I am without form, seeing what is, but not being part of it. It seems to me to be a glimpse of a great story that goes on, even though I have fallen from it.
Elanor sighed and thought of the other letter, the King’s letter. Subsequent revelations had driven her excitement at a Royal Visit into the shade, but surely this was a description of it. The King was coming to the Brandywine Bridge in less than a week!
There are great tents and pavilions in a field upon the far side. Here are important burghers of the Shire, if the fineness of their dress is anything to judge by, yet I cannot see the Thain, the Master, or the Mayor. No, I am wrong: here comes the Mayor, and I laugh, although there is no sound to disturb these good hobbits. The Mayor is Sam! My dear Sam! This is the answer to all my wishes to know that my Sam is safe and well in a future I do not share with him. He has changed, but not so much that I do not instantly recognise him. His body is a little more portly, and his hair has a sprinkling of silver; his face bears more lines, but they are gathered together into lines of laughter. He is happy, and whatever has befallen me - death or departure - has not shadowed his life.
Elanor wriggled deeper into the chair and smiled at this description of her Sam-dad. It described him exactly: the sprinkling of silver, the lines gathering in laughter. Her Sam-dad laughed more than not, and he was portly, as befitted the Mayor.
He slows, and his smile widens, and now I see a line of children waiting. Seven children in order of height, and the tallest a maid so beautiful that I would like to hold my gaze on her, but I do not have this choice. And now here is a likeness of Sam, made young and eager again, and stepwise after that each child diminishes in size until I reach the smallest, who have been made to wait too long, perhaps. They fidget and pull each other’s hair, until the eldest leans forward in the line and tells them to behave because Dada is coming.
Elanor looked up at the portrait and smiled again. If she was right, and this was a week away, then her Frodo-dad thought her beautiful now. For the first time, she wondered how she had such faith in his words, why she didn’t doubt that he could see the future. Maybe it was because Frodo had always seemed an extraordinary and astonishing hobbit to her, and that was only partly in consequence of reading the Red Book. It was not possible to grow up with Sam-dad and Mama, with the Thain and the Master of Buckland, without thinking of Frodo as someone quite exceptional. If he said he had seen the future, then he had seen the future. She turned her attention back to the letter in her hand.
There is a great stir among all those I can see, and those further back crane their heads to see better. I cannot turn, but Sam does so, standing by the tallest girl, and now I have time to study her a little better. She is slender and tall, fair-skinned, with a mass of golden hair; she smoothes down her dress - dark green with a yellow bodice - and looks as graceful as any elf. Sam smiles at her; I can tell he is very proud of her. Now a hush falls upon the concourse; Sam bows, and as he introduces each child, they curtsey or bow in turn, though the smallest pair get the giggles and cling to each other. Now I have names to put to the faces: Elanor, Iorhael, Meril, Gelir, Cordof, Glorfinniel, Baravorn ar Eirien. That is: Elanor, Frodo, Rose, Merry, Pippin, Goldilocks, Hamfast and Daisy.
That they were being introduced in Elvish seemed a further reason in Elanor’s mind to tie the vision to the King’s visit. The King’s letter had been written in the common tongue, but also in Elvish: the characters beautiful, but largely incomprehensible. But where was Primmy? She had been overlooked in the King’s letter as well.
I cannot see Daisy, but I can hear a babe cry and be shushed, and it occurs to me that Daisy is a babe in her mother’s arms.
The vision fades, but I love it; it gives me great comfort, and I return to it time and again. Sam is safe, and he has a fine family. Only as I return to the vision in my mind do I come to realise that the eldest is not his daughter, and for the first time I hear more clearly how he names her - names you, my dear.
“My lord, this is my beautiful Elanor, my treasure who brings joy to my heart each day. I do not think I have to tell you why.”
No, even though he is not speaking to me, he does not have to tell me why. For suddenly I know beyond any doubt that you are my daughter, not his, and he loves you as a father. He knows who you are, and he is full of happiness.
Elanor looked again to the picture of Frodo. The Travellers and Mama all agreed it was a good likeness. ‘Yes, he is happy, Dada,’ she said out loud. ‘I wish I knew if you were.’ She sniffed and hunted in her breeches pocket for a handkerchief, but as usual she had forgotten it. She rubbed her face on her sleeve instead, and looked down at the letter. The room was lightening, diluting the candlelight, and she could hear early stirrings in the smial. She read on to finish before she was disturbed or called to help Jena.
The vision influences my choices, and you are conceived and born. Now, I can turn from visions of you as a hobbit maid and see you in truth, since you are by my side as I write. My eyes turn to you frequently, enjoying the sweetness of your slumbering form, watching as you make little movements in your sleep. I wish to hold you in my arms, but that would disturb your rest, and there will be time for that when you awaken. So, let me turn instead to my task of talking to you across the years, and tell you my memories, in the hope of showing how dearly you are loved.
First then, the joy of greeting you. I sit by your mama as she holds you in her arms, and your Sam-dada is close by. She looks radiant in her pride at bringing you forth safely into the world, and I am filled with tenderness and gratitude towards her for giving me this gift. I kiss her on the brow, for we are not lovers, she and I, although we love each other. I do not know if you will understand this. I stare, entranced by your beauty, and my heart feels fit to burst with the intensity of my feelings for you. I can hardly breathe as I stretch out a finger to stroke your cheek, to assure myself that you are solid and real, and no vision.
Your mama asks me to name you, and when I tell her that you are Elanor, her eyes brighten with tears because she likes the sound of it so well. Elanor! I take your Sam-dada’s hand, and we smile at each other. ‘Our child,’ I say.
Your mama asks if I will hold you. Oh! Yes! I am overjoyed, but I hesitate, because I have been ill and my arm is weak. I fear that I will not be able to hold you safely. Sam guesses my concern and helps me to the armchair close by; he carries you to me and lays you gently in my arm. Now I feel my handicap: I cannot use my left hand to touch your face as I would like, but I can use my eyes, and I take in each precious detail, overwhelmed by your perfection. You open your eyes and yawn, and my captivation is complete. I am a father!
In the weeks and months that follow, I struggle with my decision to leave. How can I leave you when I love you so? But common sense prevails: I will die if I stay. I have a duty to the Shire to finish the Red Book, but I spend as much time as possible with you. When you are sleeping in the day, you are with me. You stir and start to cry, and I lift you against my chest and hold you close as we go to find your mama. She smiles as we enter the kitchen and takes you from me to feed you. She sits in the armchair - is it still there? It used to be my favourite seat - and gives you sustenance, and when you have finished you are in a mood to play. You turn your head to see if I am watching, and smile at me. Your mama tells you that you cannot really still be hungry if you have time to stop and stare at your dada. She baths you in the sink, and I reclaim the armchair to watch you kick and splash in the water. There is nowhere else I would rather be.
When you are clean and sweet-smelling and dressed, I claim you back again and carry you out to the garden to find your Sam-dada. He straightens from his work to hug us both, and you giggle as he tickles your toes. Your mama brings us tea, and we sit, all three of us together, watching you do very little except lie on your back and wave your arms around and kick your legs. You chew on your fist, and I feel in my pocket for a teething ring for you.
There is nothing to the memory, and yet everything: our comfort together as we are united in our love for each other and for you. We talk very little - it has all been said - and I put aside my sadness and see the world made new through your eyes. We laugh together at your antics, at the way you turn your head to watch the birds flying over the garden, and your surprise when you hit yourself on the nose with your toy. Your surprise turns to delighted gurgles, and you kick your feet in excitement, not knowing why we laugh, but pleased to have such an audience.
One of your dadas picks you up to hug you, and lets you dance upon his knees as he holds you under the arms. It matters not which dada because, as your mama is so fond of saying, Sam-dada and I are two halves of a whole.
So, I will leave you with my other half, knowing he will be the father to you that I cannot. Do not hesitate to call him your dada. He is your father, not only by adoption, but also by the love we share.
Forgive me that I cannot be with you as you grow. You have brought me great joy, and I fervently hope that does not come at the price of your sadness or anger once you know the truth. Should you rather grieve for me, then think of me healed of my hurts in Elven lands. May you live your life in peace and joy.
Please give my love to your Sam-dada and your mama, and kiss them for me when they cry.
You are my daughter. I love you.
Namárië,
Frodo.
Elanor folded the letter up and tucked it inside her shirt. She pulled her legs up, resting her feet on the edge of the chair seat, and propped her chin on her knees. There was too much to take in at once, but she felt truly loved. She wished she could tell him. She was just slipping into a reverie in which she was sailing with Sam-dad from the Grey Havens, when there was a tap on the door, making her jump. She could just pretend there was no one in the room, but if it was Jena she would come in anyway to clear out the fire. She called out an invitation to enter, and was surprised when the Thain looked in.
‘Oh, Elanor, my dear, I’m sorry to disturb you,’ he said. ‘I was looking for your dada. May I come in, now I’ve found you instead?’
Elanor nodded. She liked both the Captains very much, and for the first time she understood why they came to her birthday feasts and not those of her brothers and sisters. Mind you, if they came to them all, she realised, they might as well live at Bag End permanently.
Pippin waved her to remain seated as she moved to offer him the chair, and he seated himself at the desk. ‘How are you this morning?’ he asked. ‘And in case you’re wondering,’ he added with a smile, ‘I do mean, how are you, having read Frodo’s letter.’
Elanor tugged her hair, not sure how to answer. ‘I’ve just been reading it again,’ she said. She looked up at her dada’s picture and smiled at him. It surprised her how easy it was to think of him as Dada, even though her dada was Sam-dad.
She was aware of Peregrin smiling at her as she smiled at the portrait. He didn’t press her for an answer, or maybe he was taking her smile as that. She looked at him shyly. ‘Tell me about my dada,’ she said.
Peregrin threw up his hands. ‘We could be here in a month’s time, and I’d still be telling you,’ he said, ‘except I need to get back to Diamond, and I’m leaving after breakfast. Can you be more specific? What would you like to know about him?’
She rubbed her nose with the back of her hand while she thought about this, and Peregrin laughed out loud. ‘You look so like your father when you do that,’ he said. ‘And now I can tell you. Gives me a warm tingle all the way to my toes to see the likeness. You have several of his mannerisms. I’ve often wondered if they are passed on somehow, like your Tookish good looks, or if you picked them up watching him when you were a babe. I wonder if mushroom stealing is inherited.’
Elanor blushed, and then grinned at the Thain.
‘Did you ever get into trouble?’ she asked.
‘Me? All the time!’ said Peregrin with feeling. ‘If your father was staying at Great Smials, he would rescue me from the punishment I deserved - part of the reason my mother always thought he was a bad influence on me. Two or three times he took the blame, and being an adult and the Master of Bag End, they just had to accept his apology for the sheep being out or the window being broken. I didn’t realise at first he was paying for the damage done, to crops or glass - I was only about the age of your Merry-lad - but once I did realise, it made me more careful. Something all the telling off in the world had failed to do before.’ The Thain’s face took on the faraway look of reminiscence, and Elanor stayed silent. This was what she wanted, little day-to-day details, not the grand scope of the Red Book.
The Thain stirred and smiled at her. ‘He was very patient; it can’t have been easy having a small teener running around after him all the time. If I saw him leave for a solitary walk, I’d be off and after him, regardless of gates left open. He never complained about my company - though I’ve no doubt now that if he’d wanted it he would have asked me along. Once he realised I was on his tail, he would stop and wait for me, and smile at me as though I were the best thing that had happened in his day.’
They both turned as the door opened and Sam looked in. ‘There you are, bright eyes,’ he said. ‘You’re wanted to help with getting the little ones up. Fastred’s looking for you as well.’
‘But Dada,’ said Elanor in her best wheedle, ‘the Thain is telling me about Frodo-dad.’
‘Well, that’s as may be,’ said Sam, ‘but chores are chores.’ He and Peregrin exchanged smiles, and Elanor felt as though there was a whole lifetime of knowing her dada in the exchange.
‘And there was I thinking you were calling me “bright eyes,”’ said Peregrin, standing up and stretching. He held out a hand to Elanor, and there was no getting round taking it and getting up to join in the early morning activity.
‘Does Fastred know?’ she asked.
‘No,’ said Peregrin. ‘Not yet. There are few who do.’
‘Who you tell is up to you, Elanorellë,’ said Sam-dad. ‘We’ll talk about that later, but you’re wanted now, so off you go, and no disappearing until morning chores are done. There’s a little matter of a dress to try on, as well.’
Ma kept her busy, but Peregrin came to find her and gave her a huge hug when he left with Faramir. The Thain was so very large, and his hugs so very bear-like, that she was reminded of Beorn in old Mr. Bilbo’s story. Meriadoc stood beside her as they waved farewell, and when Pippin and Faramir had disappeared from view, he turned to her and slipped his hand beneath her chin. He tilted her head up, and bent down to kiss her on the cheek. His smile told her that he knew she knew. She’d known that anyway; if Sam-dad and the Thain knew something, it was very unlikely that the Master wouldn’t. The three Counsellors of the Northern Kingdom! She wondered if the King knew that they were quite capable of behaving like three tweeners when they got together, leaning on each other’s shoulders and weeping with laughter at some joke or prank.
She worked steadily through the morning, but kept an eye out for the seamstress coming. As soon as she appeared - with clothes wrapped in cotton sheets - Elanor grabbed her sister Rose, and they ran to the parlour, laughing and breathless.
‘So, you’re to be first, are you, my lovelies?’ said the seamstress. ‘Your mama says to use her room, but you must be careful: the dresses are only tacked up at the moment.’
It was a moment full of nervous anticipation for Elanor as the seamstress laid two well-wrapped dresses on Mama and Sam-dad’s bed, and unpinned the cotton. Elanor hopped from foot to foot, clutching Rose’s hand, and wanted to scream at the slow deliberation of the hobbit before her, who was carefully securing each pin in her bodice for safekeeping.
She bit her lip as the first dress revealed was cream and pink, but Mama knew how she disliked pink, so she kept her eye on the second bundle, and suddenly it was being swept up to hang before her. Elanor’s eyes went round, and she made a small exclamation of delight. Not only was it a beautiful dress, it was the dress in green and yellow! She had been sure it would be, and at this small confirmation of her dada’s letter, tears came to her eyes. She blinked, trying to stop them, but she was suddenly overwhelmed by the fact that Frodo of the Ring was her dada, that he had seen her in this dress, that he’d thought her as beautiful as an elf. She gave a sob and turned to run from the room, aware that Rose was looking at her in concern, and the seamstress in surprise. She ran slap into her mama and burst into tears.
By the time Sam joined them in the study, summoned from the garden by Jena, Elanor had subsided into the sniffing stage. He kissed Rosie, noting her eyes were red-rimmed. This was proving painful for her as well, bringing her memories into sharp focus. It wasn’t quite the same for him; his memories had never dulled with the muffling distance of time. He had told his fellow Travellers the truth: he was too busy to go dwelling on such things as the terrible journey to Sammath Naur, but his memories of Frodo were a different thing entirely. He remembered everything about Frodo in vivid detail: all his senses reliving his lover’s presence as though he were there in his arms. If he remembered Mount Doom, it was more likely to be in the smell of Frodo’s sweat, the feel of his weight against Sam’s back, the taste of his ash-covered skin as Sam pressed a kiss to the hands clasped between his own. He might not think of that often, but never a day went by without some intense memory of his beloved Frodo. Now, the memory fresh in his mind was that of Frodo holding his daughter in the garden, asking Sam to convey his love to Elanor when she was old enough to be told. He drew Elanor from the armchair and seated himself there, letting her settle into his lap with her head on his shoulder. Rosie smiled at them.
‘If you’ll be all right,’ she said, ‘I must be getting to see how Mistress Longholes is doing with the trying on.’ She leant over and gave Elanor a kiss. ‘Come back when you’re ready. Tell Sam-dad about the dress.’
‘What’s the matter, my Elanorellë?’ asked Sam, gently. ‘Is there a problem with the dress?’
‘Oh, no, Sam-dada!’ cried Elanor, lifting her head from his shoulder, and Sam smiled at her obvious excitement. She was so mature and self-possessed that he tended to think of her as a tween, but cuddled on his lap, calling him Sam-dada instead of Sam-dad, she suddenly seemed very young.
‘So, are you troubled about the letter?’ he asked.
Elanor caught a lock of his hair and started twisting it about her fingers. ‘Did my... did Frodo-dada ever tell you about his vision of me?’ she asked.
‘Yes, sweetheart, after I decided to marry your mama, he did. He worried that if he told me of it before, I’d feel obliged to marry her, instead of doing so because I wanted to.’
‘Oh.’
‘You sound disappointed.’
‘I thought... well, it’s like what you just said about marrying Mama. You both knew what my dress should be like, so of course that’s how you knew to choose those colours.’
‘Ah. Now we’re back at the dress, sweetheart, and I’ve no idea what you’re trying to tell me.’
Elanor brought her other hand up and started twisting a lock on the other side of Sam’s head and kissed him on the nose. ‘Frodo-dad told you my dress was green with a yellow bodice,’ she said, ‘didn’t he?’
‘That’s what he told you, is it?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, little one, truth is he wasn’t willing to tell me much at all. I overheard him speak some names once, and later guessed they were the names of your brothers and sisters - except Primmy wasn’t mentioned. But he didn’t give me any details. I’m introducing you, it seems, and in Elvish, no less.’ He looked at her, understanding dawning. ‘He’s told you it’s the Royal Visit!’
‘He told me it was an important occasion, and it was by the Brandywine Bridge, and... and he told me what my dress was like.’
‘Green, with a yellow bodice?’
‘Yes. Truly? You and Mama didn’t know?’
‘No, truly we didn’t know. But it doesn’t surprise me. Sometimes I feel him close by, and then I wonder if the moment was one he saw.’
‘I remember.’
‘What do you remember, my dear?’
‘Years ago. I rode up from the Party Field on your shoulders, and when we came into the kitchen, Mama asked you what was wrong, which seemed silly, because you’d been laughing and jogging me up and down. You told her Frodo had been in the Party Field, which seemed silly, as well, because I’d been there alone before you came to find me. Mama hugged you, and you seemed upset, so I gave you my daisy chain, even though I didn’t understand.’
Sam kissed her forehead. ‘I’ve still got it, you know. I pressed the flowers and kept it.’
‘Oh, Sam-dada, I do love you.’
‘And I love you. You are my daughter, but your Frodo-dada loved you just as much. When I came into the room just now, I was remembering him telling me to tell you how much he loved you. He was sad at the thought of leaving you, but he reckoned himself lucky to have you as a daughter. He told me so, and he said’ - Sam checked his memory to get the words right - ‘“When she’s older, and you tell her, you will tell her that I love her, won’t you?”’ Sam looked up at the portrait, and now there were tears in his eyes. ‘I suggested he write you a letter, and he... he kissed me, and told me it was already written.’
Elanor smoothed his hair down and clasped her hands around his neck. ‘It just seems to get realer and realer,’ she said quietly, her eyes fixed on Sam’s. ‘Frodo is my dada as well as you. It makes me sad, that you were all so sad. Will you really follow him one day? I don’t want to lose you, Sam-dada.’
‘If I can, I will, but it won’t be until I’m so old you’re like to lose me the way we lost Gaffer Gamgee.’
‘He was very old, wasn’t he, Dada?’
‘Yes, Elanorellë, he was very old. Over a hundred. But old Mr. Bilbo, he was a hundred and thirty-one when he made the journey, and for all we know he’s still alive in the Elven lands. Frodo told me time was like to go different there. When I think of your dada, I never think of him as any different than when he went - which is foolishness, no doubt, but there you are. I just can’t think of him as aging.’
‘Can Mama go, too?’
‘No, sweetheart. Only the Ring-bearers are allowed, and I carried the Ring, if only for a little.’
Elanor bit her lip. She had a worried frown on her face, her eyebrows drawn together.
‘Now that look’s your dada’s, and no mistake,’ said Sam. ‘He was a rare one for bottling up his worries, but he always felt better about things after he told his Sam.’
‘Will you leave Mama?’ It came out in a rush.
‘No, I couldn’t do that, and Frodo wouldn’t expect me to, neither. And if I die before your mama - because we must die someday, Elanor, and you know that - then Frodo reminded me of the tale of Beren and Luthien. He reminded me we could still meet in the Halls of Mandos.’
Elanor sighed and stroked Sam’s face. She still looked grave, but no longer worried. ‘Will you tell us that story again tonight, Sam-dad?’ she asked.
‘I’ll tell it to you after the little ones have gone to bed; but now I think you should go back to Mama and Mistress Longholes and try on the dress. Fastred is in charge of Merry and Pippin, and they’re cleaning out the ponies’ stables for me. I told him when he’s done, and you’re done, I’ve no objection if you two go for a ride; you can take Strider.’
Elanor lost her grave look as Sam was speaking and she clapped her hands in delight as he finished. ‘May we take a picnic basket?’
‘Yes, you may. But make sure you’re back in time to help Mama with the evening meal and getting the little ones to bed. Off you go, and be sure to let your Sam-dad have a sneak look at your dress. I think there’s cloaks to be discussed as well.’
‘Oh, we won’t need cloaks,’ said Elanor airily over her shoulder as she headed for the door.
‘Is that a fact,’ said Sam, amused by her conviction.
Elanor turned and gave him a wide smile. ‘Yes, it is. Frodo-dada says so. You wait. It’s going to be a lovely warm day.’
And so it proved. The glorious spell of weather continued after Elanor’s birthday; everyone was surprised, and no one should have been, since it had happened almost every year since the Travellers returned. Fastred stayed on to travel with the Gardner family to Buckland, and Sam was as good as his word and they had two smart carriages to travel in.
It was a squash in the house at Crickhollow, but they would have had to squash in at Brandy Hall if they’d stayed there: every hobbit with even an ounce of Brandybuck blood had remembered the connection when needing somewhere to stay near the Brandywine Bridge.
Sam was amused that the Shire in general seemed content to show little interest in the King until a Royal visit was announced, and then excitement reached fever-pitch. The hobbits as a whole were prepared to feel well-disposed to King Elessar after his edict of nearly ten years ago: banning men from crossing their borders, and naming the Shire a Free Land, under his protection but not his rule. There were also some who dismissed the Travellers’ tales as jolly good yarns, and they were no doubt interested to see if the Thain, Master and Mayor were as friendly with the King as was claimed; those who scoffed at the stories had, however, diminished in number after the Royal Proclamation which made Pippin, Merry and Sam himself, Counsellors of the North-kingdom.
‘What do you have to do, sir?’ asked Fastred as they were getting ready to leave Crickhollow and travel to the Bridge. ‘As Counsellor, I mean,’ he added, in response to Sam’s raised eyebrow. ‘I’m always meaning to ask Father, but somehow never do.’
‘Well now, it’s not very much,’ said Sam. ‘But the King sends us the details of any proposed law or edict that affects the North-kingdom, so we can comment on the impact it might have on the Shire, you see. His chancellor was keen to introduce a toll on the Greenway, but we suggested to the King that it might adversely affect the Shire’s dealings with the outside world. A lot of new trade and ideas have been coming into the Shire with the settling of the lands, and we feel it’s a good thing that our fellow hobbits stop looking on everything outside the Shire as ridiculous, dangerous or both.’ They waited in the garden for the lasses to appear, and Sam smiled at the serious hobbit by his side. Fastred was genuinely interested in this sort of thing, and Sam enjoyed talking to him.
‘And, of course, he’s been asking our advice about this visit,’ Sam continued. ‘He doesn’t want to offend hobbits by some blunder in protocol, so we filled him in on Shire customs, and your father advised him not to wear his crown, handsome though it is. Dealing with Men is intimidating at the best of times; add a high crown, and the effect is even worse.’
‘But will people accept he’s a King without a crown?’ asked Fastred.
‘Anyone can put a crown on, lad,’ said Sam, ‘and be no more a king than you or I. King Elessar don’t need a crown. You’ll see. Now, if those lasses don’t make an appearance soon, I’m thinking that my Merry’s and Pippin’s clothes are going to be mired beyond saving.’ They looked across to where the two young hobbits were racing around the meadow that stood in for a garden at Crickhollow. Merry pulled Pippin to the ground, and they rolled over and over.
‘Hoy!’ shouted Sam, striding across and hoiking them to their feet. ‘That is not what your new clothes are for.’ He dusted them down. ‘Go and relieve Frodo from holding the ponies, and I’ll see what the lasses are up to.’
With a little chivvying, and large amounts of assurance that they looked lovely, Rosie, Elanor and Rose-lass appeared, with all the little ones washed and brushed to within an inch of their lives. Hamfast was surreptitiously trying to ruffle his hair up, while Goldilocks and Daisy were both playing with the ribbons in their curls. Sam looked with delight at wife and children, and his heart swelled with pride. How did he come to have such a fine family? He smiled at Rosie; the answer was obvious, really. He had Frodo to thank.
Rosie drew him close and slipped her hands beneath the back of his fine new silk waistcoat to run them up his back. ‘Don’t you look a picture, Master Gardner,’ she said, and they took a moment from the worry of organisation to kiss. Rosie smoothed down her dress as they parted, and looked around at the assembled children. ‘I think we should be putting Merry and Pippin in separate carriages, don’t you?’ she said. She raised her voice. ‘Jena! Where are you?’
‘Coming, Mistress, coming,’ called Jena, and appeared looking very pretty in a new dress. ‘I were just finding something to shade Primmy’s face from the sun.’ she said. ‘It’s that hot already!’ She was carrying Primmy on her hip, and the babe was trying to pull a sun hat off.
It was indeed hot, but when they arrived at the East Road, there was ample space to leave their two carriages and to tether ponies in the shade of the Hedge. Grooms were laid on from Brandy Hall to keep the beasts fed and watered. The Mayor and his family joined the Bucklanders thronging across the East Road. Merging with them, and swelling their numbers, was a crowd of hobbits crossing the Bridge from the East Farthing. All was chattering excitement, colour, and hurrying masses. It would be very easy to lose a small hobbitling.
Rosie was carrying Primmy now, since the babe had become fractious on the journey, maybe as a consequence of the loss of the normal routine of her life. Jena took Daisy’s hand, while Elanor and Rose-lass took charge of Goldilocks and Hamfast. Merry and Pippin were considered old enough to take charge of themselves and find the family again if they got separated, but they seemed unusually quiet and stayed close; Sam guessed the occasion was beginning to overawe them. He shepherded his family towards the Royal tents, close by which was a large dais hung with awnings.
Few men were in evidence, but one came striding to meet them, and Sam pushed forward with a cry of delight. ‘Beregond!’ he exclaimed. ‘Oh, this is a wonderful surprise. I didn’t expect you to be with the King. Does this mean Faramir has come?’
Beregond knelt down on one knee, as all men of Gondor had learnt to do in their dealings with hobbits in past times. ‘No, Ernil i Pheriannath. Quiet the lands may be around Gondor, but it was not considered politic for both our King and Prince to be absent at the same time. Faramir holds stewardship in his stead. As for myself, how could I resist this chance to see dear friends again?’ He laughed. ‘Is this your family? You have not been idle!’
Sam laughed back and hugged Beregond. ‘Let me introduce you,’ he said. He finished up with Fastred. ‘I have left Fastred to last,’ he said, ‘but I think you will be pleased to meet him.’
Beregond started at the name. ‘Fastred!’ he exclaimed. ‘This is indeed a pleasure. Your father is my true friend, and I owe him my life! I hear one of his sons is named after me, but I have yet to tell him the honour has been returned: Bergil’s firstborn is called Peregrin. I hope you will visit us one day; my house shall be yours.’
Fastred made polite response, but Sam saw him swallow nervously. First meeting with a Man was disconcerting enough, and Sam suspected the enthusiasm of Beregond’s welcome was overwhelming Fastred. It was one thing hearing about your father killing a troll and saving a Man’s life, quite another having that Man walk out of the page, so very large and real.
‘I am charged with a message for you from the King,’ Beregond said, standing and turning to smile down at Sam. ‘He requests that you will bring your good lady wife to be introduced, if it is convenient, before he meets the rest of your family.’
Sam looked his family over. ‘Elanor? Frodo?’ he said. ‘Can you manage with Jena’s help?’
Frodo looked back up at him. His eyes were rather large, but he was holding his usual position close by Sam. ‘Of course we can, Dada,’ he said, and Elanor nodded in agreement; it was something they often did, although not usually in such crowded circumstances. The only problem was that Daisy had clambered up Jena at the first appearance of Beregond, and she refused to be put down so that Jena could take Primmy.
‘Will the King mind if I bring the babe?’ Rosie asked Sam. She looked a little pale.
Sam gave her a reassuring kiss. ‘No, my love,’ he said. ‘It’s obvious none of us remembered to tell him about her in our correspondence, so we can rectify that now, and she can have the privilege of being the first of our bairns to meet the King.’ He slipped his arm around Rosie and looked at the children. ‘Now, you youngsters behave and do what Elanor and Frodo tell you, do you hear?’ He looked meaningfully at Merry and Pippin. ‘Because if you don’t, the King will hear of it.’ For once it was not an idle threat.
Beregond led them to a large pavilion and raised the tent flap. ‘My Lord, the Mayor and his wife,’ he announced, and stood back to allow Sam and Rosie to enter.
Sam had hardly got inside the tent before Aragorn was there, kneeling before him, hugging him close. ‘Samwise! This is such a pleasure!’ he said. ‘Long have I wanted to make this journey to my North-kingdom.’
‘Strider!’ cried Sam, deciding some Gamgee cheek was in order. ‘It’s wonderful to see you, and looking so fine. Very kingly, if I might make so bold, sir.’
Aragorn laughed in delight, and Sam knew he had struck the right note. Moreover, the former ranger did indeed look very kingly: over his fine clothes was a knee length tabard with the tree of Gondor surrounded by seven stars embroidered on it in silver thread - maybe even Mithril, Sam wasn’t sure. He was pleased to see that Aragorn had taken his counsellors’ advice over the matter of the crown, and was wearing a simple gold circlet over hair which was a little more grey than at his coronation. Overall, he did not look so very different, and Sam guessed that seventeen years had touched this Númenórean less than the hobbits; Aragorn certainly did not look over a hundred years old. He turned as the king released him, and drew Rosie forward. ‘This is my wife, Rosie,’ he said. ‘Rosie, this is King Elessar.’
Still kneeling, Aragorn held out a hand to Rosie as she rose from a curtsy and drew her close to kiss her on the brow. ‘I had heard that my friend Sam had married a beauty,’ he said. ‘Now I can see for myself, that was no more than the truth.’
Rosie blushed bright red, and Sam beamed at the King. ‘She’s the beautifulest and bestest lass in the whole Shire,’ he said. He didn’t think Rosie could blush any deeper, but she managed it.
Aragorn stood and looked down at her kindly. ‘Come and be seated,’ he said, ‘and take some light refreshment. My dear Queen will be here soon. Is this your daughter Daisy?’
Rosie shook her head mutely, and Sam answered for her. ‘This is our youngest, Primrose, or Primmy as we call her, already having two Roses in the family, as it were, sir.’
Just then the tent flap was raised again, and Beregond announced Pippin, Diamond, Merry and Estella. Aragorn went down on one knee for a second time, and Merry and Pippin rushed into his outstretched arms with cries of delight. Sam thought Diamond was looking well, but the King was suitably solicitous for her welfare, and soon had all three hobbit wives seated. Sam very much suspected that Rosie was also pregnant, since she had started showing little signs he recognised. Pippin hovered around Diamond, standing behind her as she sat and laying a hand on her shoulder. It warmed Sam’s heart to see the care Pippin took of his diminutive wife, even while it filled him with gentle amusement to see the disparity in their size. Diamond laid her hand over Pippin’s and smiled up at her husband.
‘I was sorry to hear of your hopes miscarried,’ said the King gently. ‘You are not alone in this. My Queen also suffered this misfortune between the birth of our son and our first daughter. I am very much looking forward to meeting your Faramir... to meeting all your children,’ he added, looking round to include Sam and Merry. Sam caught Merry’s eye, and their lips quirked. This was a tactful way of including all Pippin’s issue without being insensitive to Diamond. Diamond had married Pippin knowing about his colourful and fecund past - who didn’t? - but it made it harder for her when she couldn’t carry to term.
Diamond smiled up at the King. ‘You are very kind, my Lord Elessar,’ she said.
‘Please know that I do not wish you to stand in my presence,’ he told her. ‘And if you feel unwell, be sure to leave the proceedings. One of the Queen’s maids will show you where you may lie down if you feel the need.’ He turned to Samwise. ‘Now, my friend, I have been getting hints and teases from my knight, Peregrin. Some great secret that it behoves me to know before I meet your family.’
Sam opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the arrival of Queen Arwen Undómiel, accompanied by two maids of honour - great ladies in their own right, Sam guessed. Rosie, Diamond and Estella all rose with a great scattering of cushions to curtsey, while Sam, Pippin and Merry bowed low. Sam had forgotten how beautiful she was.
‘My dear hobbits,’ said the Queen as they straightened. ‘Please be at ease and be seated. We are all friends together here.’
They were a little tongued-tied in her presence at first, but with refreshment taken together came ease, and Aragorn raised again the subject of Sam’s family. ‘You are indeed blessed to have eight children,’ he said, as they sat together.
‘And there we have it,’ said Sam. He looked at Merry and Pippin, and their laughing eyes brought the laughter bubbling up inside him. ‘You see, strictly speaking, I have seven children.’
‘You speak in riddles, Master Perian,’ said Aragorn. ‘Unless it is that Shire folk count to a different system.’
‘Nay, my lord Aragorn. My family is made up of eight children, all beloved by me, but the oldest is mine by adoption, not by birth.’
‘This is Elanor you speak of?’
‘Yes, my lord. She is the daughter of Frodo.’
‘Frodo!’ cried Aragorn, jerking upright in his chair and grasping the wooden arms. His whole face lit up with joy. ‘Oh, Elbereth be praised! This is news indeed. Why did you not tell me?’
‘We told no one, my lord, until Elanor was told herself, and that is only a week since, prompted partly by your visit.’
‘We thought it best that she did not meet you in ignorance of her parentage,’ chipped in Pippin. ‘You will understand when you meet her. And Sam deemed the time was indeed ripe for her knowing.’
‘And her mother?’ asked the Queen gently. ‘Who is her mother?’
Rosie stirred on her seat, Primmy held tightly to her. ‘That would be me, my lady,’ she said. Sam took Primmy from her and raised her to her feet to kiss her in front of the King and Queen.
‘Well, well, “more tales to tell than ours,” I see,’ said Aragorn. ‘I am very much looking forward to all that you can tell me of our gentle Ring-bearer, but that must wait until we can take our ease over the noonday meal, or maybe later. Being introduced to Frodo’s daughter, on the other hand, is a pleasure that I ask to have now, before I address your fellow hobbits. Rest here in the meantime, while Sam takes me to his family. And in your mercy, please call me Aragorn or Elessar in private, rather than my lord.’ He smiled at Sam. ‘Even Strider, if you prefer.’
‘Well then, Aragorn,’ said Merry, ‘that is easily done, and you do us great honour, but if you think we are going to miss seeing your face when you set eyes on the lovely Elanor, you are sadly mistaken.’
‘Very well,’ said Aragorn, laughing. ‘Let those who wish to accompany me do so, but I think Diamond should not be walking about in the sun.’
‘I will stay with Diamond,’ said Rosie. ‘Primmy ought to have a feed to keep her quiet for what follows.’ Sam suspected she was also feeling the exhaustion of early pregnancy, even - or rather especially - so early on. Diamond gave Rosie a grateful smile, and Estella spoke her wish to stay quietly as well. Queen Arwen stood before the three hobbit matrons. ‘Will you forgive me, if I leave you for a moment to see this child?’ she asked. ‘Like Elessar, I do not wish to delay this joy unlooked for.’
Two guards fell in behind Aragorn and his Queen as they left the tent, but he waved them back. Sam looked around. There, standing in a line - as though all had been prearranged for the purpose - was his family. Goldilocks and Hamfast were having an argument over the merits of who pushed whom, while Jena stood a little apart holding Daisy.
‘We seem to be expected,’ said Aragorn, looking down at Sam in surprise.
‘Inside knowledge, I would guess,’ said Sam, cryptically. ‘I’ll explain later, my lord.’ The injunction to be familiar had been for when they were in private, he had noted. ‘I believe tradition demands I introduce them in Elvish,’ he added. Aragorn raised his eyebrows, but Merry and Pippin smiled with dawning understanding and nodded their agreement.
Sam hurried forward, smiling at Elanor, but she had leant forward to shush the two smallest in line, who were now pulling each other’s hair. ‘Goldie! Ham!’ she hissed. ‘Behave! Look, here comes Dada!’ The little ones looked up, subsiding at the sight of the tall King and Queen, and Elanor straightened. She self-consciously smoothed down her dress, and gave Sam a smile that nearly had him laughing aloud for joy. He had never seen the likeness to Frodo so strongly as at that moment. He heard the Royal couple gasp as he fetched up next to her and turned to face them.
‘My lord,’ he said, bowing. ‘This is my beautiful Elanor, my treasure who brings joy to my heart each day. I do not think I have to tell you why.’ Elanor curtsied, and Sam knew without a doubt he had to carry on and introduce all the children. His heart sang. Nothing had happened to Primmy! She was simply elsewhere. He suddenly remembered other words of Frodo’s, words of comfort at an anxious time. “There is one more I cannot see, although you introduce her with the others; I believe that she is a babe, held in her mother’s arms.” What a good thing Frodo had not been able to see! His faith in his vision might have foundered if he had seen, not Rosie, but Jena holding the babe. As Sam introduced each child in turn, they bowed or curtsied, even Goldie and Ham, although they got the giggles and clung to each other. Sam saw the King lose his stunned expression for the first time and laugh at the sight.
Sam looked where Elanor was looking, away from the Royal couple and towards the Bridge, and he smiled even as tears gathered in his eyes. Can you see me, my dearest, all those years ago? I love you. I haven’t forgotten you. He swallowed, and Elanor’s hand slipped into his. ‘Sam-dada,’ she said. ‘The King is waiting for us.’
‘Will you show me?’ he said hoarsely. ‘Will you show me what he wrote about today?’
She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. ‘Yes, dear Sam-dad, you can read all his letter if you wish.’
He freed his hand from hers to hold her round the shoulders. ‘Thank you,’ he said, kissing her cheek. He looked about. ‘What happened to Fastred?
‘He was given Faramir to care for, and they’ve gone to look at the Men’s horses. Faramir can’t believe they’re so large.’
Sam nodded and shepherded his family over to the King. He introduced Jena, who was made speechless by the honour: a remarkable achievement. The great throng of hobbits kept a respectful distance.
‘Now, my friends,’ said the King loudly to Sam, Merry and Pippin - and there was a murmur as of wind in a wheat field as this appellation registered with the watching crowd - ‘join me on the dais, and let your families sit under the awning at the side here, where they can get a good view of all that passes.’
The Travellers mounted the steps to the dais, following on the heels of Aragorn and Arwen, while one of the Queen’s maids was sent to summon Rosie, Estella and Diamond to join their families. To Sam’s eye, the three lasses looked more relaxed for the chance to discuss the wonder of their first impressions in private together, and happy that they were not expected to stand with their husbands. From his vantage point, Sam could see Elanor’s face light up at the appearance of Fastred, with Faramir jumping up and down at his side. A servant from the Hall came, carrying Théo, and then hurried away to the anonymity of the crowd, now pressing as close as they were allowed. Many, but not all, of Pippin’s children had taken advantage of the privileged seating, and golden hair predominated.
The King stepped forward, and a hush fell on the assembled masses.
‘Hobbits of the Shire,’ he said, his voice pitched to carry. ‘I am King Elessar, King of both the South and North-kingdoms. I live far from here, in the city of Minas Tirith, but my thoughts turn often to the north, and to the doings in this land. I know the Shire well, from the time when I laboured as a Ranger to protect your borders, and I value the friendship of the Thain, the Master of Buckland and the Mayor - my counsellors on matters relating to yourselves.
‘Now they counsel me that if I would win your approval, I should keep this speech short.’ The crowd laughed, and a few clapped. ‘They also advise that I should feed you well.’ There was more laughter, and Sam relaxed. They had indeed advised Aragorn of both these points in their last letter to him. Aragorn held up his hands to quieten his audience. ‘I will tell you now that I value their advice, and I hope you will appreciate the shortness of this address. I also hope you will leave the feast that follows with no corners left to fill.’ There were some cheers and more enthusiastic clapping.
‘I would like to confirm my edict, issued many years ago,’ said Aragorn as the noise subsided. ‘Although the Shire falls within the boundaries of my Kingdom, I declare it a Free Land, in which you are therefore free to settle your own affairs. Men may not cross your borders, and in good faith of that, I meet you here. Should danger threaten you, however, I consider the Shire to be under my protection.’
There was some polite clapping at this, but apart from when the Ruffians had taken over, the Shire had always settled its own affairs, and where had the protection been when Sharkey moved in? Sam had listened to this sentiment expressed many times since the original edict. He had given up trying to make the hobbits understand the fact that the Shire had originally been gifted to them, and that it was only because the North-kingdom had failed, that overlordship by the King had fallen into abeyance. It was a real concession they were being offered, but they seemed to consider it as no more than their due.
‘Coming north at last, I am delighted to meet again my dear friends: Peregrin Took, knight of Gondor; Meriadoc Brandybuck, Holdwine of the Mark; and the indomitable Samwise Gardner, without whose brave and selfless actions much ill would have befallen us all. My only sadness is that Frodo Baggins is not here to greet me. His remarkable achievement in bringing about the destruction of the Dark Lord, whom you call the Necromancer, is celebrated throughout my lands. Yet he only achieved what he did because of the support and love given to him by your good Mayor. Together they faced the horror of Mordor and wrought great deeds!’
Sam felt as though he might cry at this public affirmation of Frodo’s actions. The clapping was enthusiastic, but Sam was sensible of the fact this was likely to have little to do with what happened in the War of the Ring, and everything to do with the Shire showing support for their Mayor.
Aragorn waited for the applause to fade before he continued. ‘I have had the honour of bending my knee to them both in gratitude, but now I would like to bestow a further honour on Samwise, who is also called Harthad Uluithiad, that is “Hope Unquenchable.” He took hope into Mordor, and it was never quenched.’
The King held out his hand towards Sam, and in a daze, Sam felt Merry and Pippin propel him forward; no doubt they were privy to the King’s intentions, and he would be having words with them later about springing this on him. He started to bow, but Aragorn caught his elbow to stop him, and the next moment the King was bending on one knee to bring himself down to Sam’s height. Beregond held out a cushion, and from it the King lifted a gold chain to slip over Sam’s head. He kissed Sam on the brow and then stood, turning Sam to face the concourse as he did so.
‘Behold!’ cried Aragorn. ‘The Star of the Dúnedain was never more deservedly given!’
Sam shook his head, trying to clear the tears. He was overcome with confusion at the honour done him. The noise of cheering was deafening, though once again he suspected they were simply cheering to see their Mayor honoured, rather than out of any appreciation of what it was for. The crowd before him was no more than a confused blur, but he became aware that the noise was dying down, and the King was speaking again.
‘It only remains for me to publicly honour both Peregrin, son of Paladin, for saving the life of Faramir, Prince of Ithilien, and Meriadoc, son of Saradoc, for coming to the aid of the Lady Éowyn when she was at the mercy of the Witch-King of Angmar. Truly, great things are sung of the deeds of hobbits in my lands.’ Merry and Pippin bowed to the King, who smiled at them and turned once more to hobbits gathered from the four corners of the Shire.
‘Come, my friends. Let merriment be the order of the day today, but let us not forget Frodo our Ring-bearer who brought us the peace to make merry in. Later, I will ask you all to drink a toast in his memory, the memory of a great soul who has passed over the sea to Elven lands. I for one wish him health and healing and the protection of the Valar.
‘Now, however, it is time to eat and drink. I thank you for your patience, and hope you enjoy the feasting and entertainment provided.’ He stepped back and turned amidst the applause of the hobbits to take Arwen’s hand.
Sam was still standing in a daze, barely registering the fact that Aragorn had taken their last piece of advice: ‘We humbly suggest that you finish by announcing that it is time to eat; they will cheer you, whether your speech was to their liking or not.’ Merry and Pippin grabbed him, and guided him off the dais into Rosie’s embrace. She was in tears as well. ‘Oh, Sam,’ she cried. ‘I’m so proud of you.’
His children were all crowding round, wanting to look at what was hanging around his neck. Sam lifted the chain so he could see better. On it was hung a heavy gold star with six points, and superimposed over the centre was another, much smaller star. He rubbed his thumb over it and smiled at Merry and Pippin.
‘The Star of Eärendil,’ he said quietly. He had seen the emblem at Minas Tirith, and remembered it because of his experience in Mordor. It seemed a fitting tribute to his hope, which had been kept alive by Eärendil, the great mariner of the sky, ancestor of the Dúnedain. His confusion and embarrassment were beginning to give way to a quiet pride.
Beregond joined them, and the less bold hobbitlings scattered to hide behind their elders. ‘The King requests your company at the Royal table,’ Beregond said. ‘Your children are all welcome in the Royal Pavilion, but there is a separate tent for them with not only food but also a magician and conjuror to entertain them. My Lady Arwen suggests you make both tents known to them, and allow them to come and go between them as they will.’
This proved to be a very sensible and practical arrangement. The Counsellors had given Aragorn a list of Shire worthies to invite to the Royal Pavilion, and had included the foremost names on the roll of honour from the Battle of Bywater. It was a larger gathering than Bilbo’s hundred weight feast. The youngest children were in and out, but as the meal progressed they gradually disappeared and did not return; the entertainment was obviously to their liking. Meanwhile, the rest of the Shire were well catered for in the open air, and the sound of music and singing drifted in. Later, there would be dancing for all.
The conversation around the King’s table turned for a while to Frodo’s departure, and Elanor listened quietly as the three Travellers told Aragorn all they could. Sam turned to Arwen and told her about her father, and made them all laugh at the tale of Bilbo’s upbraiding of the great lord.
‘He would not have minded,’ said Arwen. ‘He may not have known much of hobbits, but he held you all in great esteem. Now, in courtesy, we should change the subject, for the sake of those here present who have not our first-hand knowledge of Frodo.’
‘My lady,’ said Estella, ‘it is not possible to be married to my husband and not hold Frodo Baggins in esteem, although to my shame, I did not realise his worth when he was here. Please do not change your conversation on my account.’
‘Nor mine,’ said Diamond, ‘because I know how much it pleases Pippin.’ She smiled at Pippin, and he kissed her.
Elanor said nothing, but it was obvious to Sam how much she was enjoying the talk about her dada. Arwen smiled at her. ‘I am hoping, my dear, that you might like to be a maid of honour to me, and that your mother and father will bring you to the court in Minas Tirith when you are older. There is no need to decide now, nor does agreeing commit you to having to come to our city - I realise that must be a daunting prospect! However, if you would like to be named as my maid of honour, we could do that towards the end of the feast.’
Elanor’s eyes went wide with excitement, and she looked at first Sam, then Rosie. ‘Can I, Sam-dad? Can I, Mama?’ she asked.
Sam just nodded, thinking how proud Frodo would be, but Rosie was more practical. ‘I think we would have to look careful-like at a visit to Minas Tirith, my lady,’ she said. ‘We couldn’t be letting her go alone, to live in a great city of stone, and she ain’t the only child we has to consider. I think we would have to wait to say yay or nay to that until the time comes, but that don’t mean she can’t be named as maid of honour now, from what you say.’
‘I quite understand,’ said Arwen. ‘And it will delight me to do that. You are all coming to stay at Lake Evendim with us, are you not? She can attend me there.’
Just then Faramir came running in, full of breathless excitement, but it was not his parents he wanted. ‘Fastred! Fastred!’ he cried. ‘Come and see what the magic man is doing! You’re missing it!’ He grabbed Fastred’s hand and pulled. ‘Come on!’
Fastred stood up good-naturedly and swung Faramir up on his shoulder. ‘Pipe down, pip-squeak,’ he said. ‘I’ll come and see, but I’m not going to stop long, all right?’
Aragorn watched them go with interest. ‘Faramir, I would guess, has no idea that he will be Thain and your eldest son will not,’ he said to Pippin. ‘It would be easy for resentment to rise there when Fastred is older.’
‘Fastred wouldn’t...’ began Elanor, but subsided, blushing, as the King looked at her gravely.
‘Who can say what will happen in the future,’ said Aragorn. He turned to Pippin. ‘I would wish to help you in this, my friend, if you would allow it. I have seen dissension arise in families when ability is thwarted, and I judge Fastred to be a fine young hobbit, not lacking in ambition. I wish to gift the Westmarch to the Shire. Not yet, I think, for that would not suit my purpose. Let it be around the time Fastred comes of age; I will give you the keeping of the wardenship, but with the understanding that Fastred might be given the title when he is ready. What do you say?’
‘Aragorn, thank you,’ said Pippin in delight. ‘That is generous indeed.’
‘Good,’ said Aragorn. ‘Now let us hear your speeches. Arwen will announce that Elanor is to be maid of honour, and I will propose a toast to Frodo. After that, I have a surprise for you.’
Sam patted his pockets and felt the reassuring crackle of his notes. He tended not to use them - making speeches had become second nature to him - but he liked to know they were there. Fastred returned, with a bow to the King, in time for his father’s speech on making closer ties with those outside their borders, and Sam followed that up with a brief reminder on the benefits the Shire received from trade coming up the Greenway. He kept a straight face over this, which was quite an achievement, given that Merry had suggested horny goat weed as an example. Sam finished up his speech by pointing out that there were plenty of opportunities to make this a two-way flow of goods.
Arwen stood to reply and called Elanor to her side to make her announcement. ‘This honour is for the love my lord Aragorn and I bear her father,’ she said, and Sam positively beamed with delight, while Elanor stood blushing.
Aragorn picked up his wine glass and stood as well, and all present followed him onto their feet. ‘To the hobbit who sacrificed so much for us,’ said Aragorn. ‘By the grace of the Valar, may he find healing from all hurts and the happiness he deserves.’ He raised his glass. ‘To Frodo Baggins!’
‘To Frodo Baggins,’ came back the chorused reply, and all three Counsellors added, as one of them always did, ‘May he be happy and whole.’ The next moment Sam gave a gasp of delight. The King’s minstrel was bowing before them.
‘My Lord King,’ the minstrel said. ‘I beg your leave to sing the lay of Frodo of the Nine Fingers and the Ring of Doom.’
As the sweet words opened old wounds, Sam was transported back to a time when pain and delight flowed together, and he openly wept. Pippin put his arm around him, and Sam turned into the solid strength of his friend. Pippin murmured words of comfort in his ear, not wanting to interrupt the flow of the song, as the clear voice of the minstrel rose in remembered silver and gold. ‘I’m sure he’s all right, Sam,’ he said.
Sam nodded, and his pained eased in his delight at hearing Frodo’s praises sung. He smiled at Pippin, but still there was the nagging doubt. ‘I wish that I knew for sure,’ he whispered as they seated themselves, and their glasses were refilled by the King’s attentive squire.
‘I can’t imagine he doesn’t miss you,’ said Pippin softly. ‘But apart from that, I believe he’s where he needs to be, and that everything else will follow. Have faith, Sam.’
Sam nodded again. His hope was unquenchable. With unspoken agreement, they touched their glasses together and settled back to listen to the minstrel.