Dear Dad,

I dashed this off over a dinner of mushrooms and such at F. Maggot’s. We are on our way to Crickhollow and the good farmer offered us supper and a ride to the Ferry. His taters don’t hold a candle to yours. I’ll send this off from Buckland.

Later,

We didn’t stay but the one night in Crickhollow, and Mr Frodo wanted to make an early start. Can’t say any more at present.

Yours afctnatly,
Samwise

***

Dear Dad,

We got a bit turned about and ended up lodging with this queer character, Tom something. He has quite the way with trees and growing things. I think you’d like him. There doesn’t seem to be any post from here, so will try to send this off later.

Later,

We met up with some shady characters who stole the shirts off our backs. I know you warned me about going outside the Shire but I never really knew what could happen…

Still later,

We are staying the night in Bree. Mr Merry has gone out to take the air, Mr Frodo and Mr Pippin went down to the common room for a pint and I’m just trying to finish this up.

Still later,

Have met this tall person they call Longshanks—I’d call him “Grubby” myself, but he’s that tall I won’t say anything to him. He seems to know all about Mr Frodo’s business. Nosy kind of fellow. Will close and send this off now. Best to Mari.

Yours afctnatly,
Samwise

***

Dear Dad,

Haven’t been able to send off any of my little notes. I don’t think much of the Mayor and his messenger service. Today we ran into some unpleasant chaps. Mr Frodo disappeared. Can’t say I blame him.

Grubby is travelling partway with us. Cannot tell you where we are going but it is someplace with elves. Mr Frodo is rather sick and tired of travelling. Can’t say but that I will be glad to get to where we’re going and turn around to come home again.

Later,

Found a jool on a bridge in the middle of nowhere today. Folk hereabouts are surely careless about their possessions. Seems clear to me they don’t have the sense to sew their valuables into their underwear as they ought.

Still later,

Those unpleasant chaps seem to be following us. Mr Frodo got into a game of follow-the-leader with them but after he crossed a river a flood came down and washed them away. Rivers is tricksy things, just like you’re always telling me. Hope we won’t see them again soon, nasty fellows they are with terrible breath.

Yours afctnatly,
Samwise

Book II

Dear Dad,

Do you remember when Mr. Bilbo went away everyone shook their heads and said he'd come to a bad end? Well he's landed on his feet, he has, and is living in the lap of luxury.

And there really are such folk as Elves.

There are all sort of folk here, Big Men and Dwarves and the aforementioned.

Mr. Frodo was ill when we arrived, but he's ever so much better now. I am supposed to be sleeping, after sitting up with him for ever so long a time. More later.

Later,

Still no way to send post. This'll be a fine fat packet when I finally send it off! They had a grand moot today with all the visitors and it seems that Mr. Frodo will be travelling some way farther. O'course I cannot let him go by himself. He needs someone to look after him, and that is for certain.

Yours afctnatly,

Samwise

***

Dear Dad,

I do hope that your Yule was fine. It is cold and dampish where we are.

I don't think much of mountains. Freezing, unpleasant places they are, with snow higher than a hobbit. If you are still planning to go on holiday I think you ought to stick with the seaside.

The wind howls like wolves here, and Mr. Gandalf is waving his staff about and kindling fire. Looks as if I had better get to cooking. More later, I do surely hope.

Later,

I don't think much of the pools of water they have round here. Nasty unpleasant snakes lurk there. I lost my pony, that had come with us all the way from Bree.

Do you know? Hobbits isn't the only folk what lives under the ground. Dwarves do as well, only their smials are a deal larger than Shire-folks'.

Master Peregrin Took wants a good deal of looking after, I'm afraid. Do you know how you taught me never to chuck things down a well? Seems as if he don't have enough sense to stuff a turnip.

Much later,

So much has happened, Dad, I don't know how to tell even a part of it. Mr. Gandalf, he--

He fell down, and we had to leave him behind in the Dwarves' smial. And then we came to this glorious wood. I cannot begin to tell you about it, but I can say this much. Elves is just as good gardeners as hobbits. Maybe better.

They don't know their taters, though.

There's a funny sort of mirror here, and I looked in it, and I thought a moment I saw you. I know what you'd say. "Don't muck about with things beyond you, Samwise!"

But I promised myself I'd stick this through, and Mr. Frodo wants looking after, no doubt about it.

Yours afctnatly,

Samwise

***

Dear Dad,

The one thing I was missing before was rope, and now I have some in my pack, nestled around my pans, I am set for what ever lies ahead. It's elvish rope, to be sure, but I'm sure it's nearly as good as Uncle's.

And the Lady of the Wood (you'd like her, Dad, tall and beautiful she is, and she loves growing things) gave me a box to bring back to the Shire, with earth from her orchard, and a great value she sets by it, as any true gardener would.

But I fear to tell you that we travel now in boats. Yes I know you've told me often enough that boats is tricksy things, and Mr. Frodo's parents got drownded in a boat. I'll do my best not to get drownded.

I must close now, as Mr. Frodo has gone off by himself, and he does want quite a bit of looking after.

Yours afctntly,

Samwise

Book IV, Chapters 1-3

Dear Dad,

We’re in a fix and no mistake. There are no roads in this country to speak of. I know what you’re thinking, no roads means no inns, and you’d be right, no inns, neither. We can see where we want to go, but getting there’s another story. Lots of green where we’re going, but not a good wholesome green like in the Shire, and from the stink I fear it’s a nasty bog ahead of us.

We’ve come the wrong way, and even if Mr. Frodo should be inclined to stop and ask directions, which I’d doubt, him being a gentlehobbit and not likely to admit going wrong, there’s nobody here to ask.

I got to put my new rope to use today and though I know you won’t half credit it, it’s as good as any of Uncle Andy’s.

Later,

Sorry, Dad, I scratched that last bit out because it was grumbly and not fit to write. It wasn’t anything to write home about.

We did stop and ask directions, and the fellow said he’d go one better and show us the way himself, though I wouldn’t trust him any further than I could paddle a boat. Still, Mr. Frodo welcomed him to join us. You know how trusting he always is. He does want a good bit of looking after, Mr. Frodo does, for his own good.

But it’s time to sleep, so I’ll try to write again when there’s news to tell. Best to Mari.

Yours afctnatly,
Samwise

***

Dear Dad,

I could do without marshes. First Midges, and now this. Dreary stinking place, and tricksy lights, and the food is not all I could wish, though I suppose it’s better than going without.

One of those unpleasant fellows tried to find Mr. Frodo again, up to no good, but we managed to give him the slip.

Later,

More mountains ahead, but these are bare rock, and make me sick somehow to see them. They badly need a good gardener here, but I don’t think the wages would suit.

Our guide is even less trustworthy than I thought. I’m keeping a close eye on the wretch, though Mr. Frodo is as fair-spoken to him as ever. I never saw such a gentlehobbit for minding his manners.

Still later,

You often said I’d come to a bad end if I didn’t watch my step, and well, I’d give most anything to hear you say I told ‘ee so, Sam. O’ course, you wouldn’t know me to look at, to say it to. We all badly need a wash, even Mr. Frodo. I know, you always say Ponies sweat, gardeners perspire, and gentlehobbits sort of glow but to tell the truth, even gentlehobbits can be in need of a bath sometimes, though it would never do to say so.

We tried one way to get where we’re going but came smack up against a gate, locked shut, like Mr. Proudfoot’s back garden when the cherry trees are bearing and the young hobbits come around with more hope than sense.

We’re going to have to find another way. I only hope our guide will lead us true, and that Mr. Frodo knows what we are doing.

Still later,

Saw four of those unpleasant fellows today, but they didn’t see us. Good thing, too.

Later, again,

Have seen more big folk hereabouts, all in red and gold, than you could shake a stick at, sure as Shiretalk. But no Oliphaunts. Perhaps there ain’t no such beasts after all, if the Swertings don’t have ‘em.

But it is time to take our rest, and then it'll be time to move on again.

I dearly would like to have seen an Oliphaunt.

Yours afctnatly,
Samwise

***

Oops, almost forgot this disclaimer. There are a few words and phrases from The Two Towers, by J.R.R. Tolkien, scattered throughout this chapter.