CHAPTER 24

In the Cotton’s cozy kitchen, Rolly Banks finished his tea. The Cottons had been kind enough to put him up last night after he had delivered the word to Bywater and Hobbiton that the King’s Men would be passing through on their way to Tuckborough. He had also delivered a letter from the Deputy Mayor to old Ponto Baggins. Now he had to get on the road again, this time to Michel Delving, where he would share the last of his messages, and meet his brother Denny for the ride home to the Bridgefields.

“Thank ye for your hospitality, Mistress Cotton,” he said to Lily Cotton.

“That’s quite all right, lad,” she answered. “We’ll have this food packed up in only a moment.”

Rolly cast a wistful eye on the two lasses who were helping to put up some travel food for him. A shame two such comely lasses were already betrothed, for Marigold Gamgee, Samwise’s sister, was betrothed to the Cotton’s eldest son Tom, and of course Miss Rosie Cotton was Sam’s own betrothed.

Not that there would have been any kind of chance for anyone else in Rose’s eyes.

During Sam’s long absence, a lot of hobbits had tried. One of Rolly’s Bywater cousins had been among them. He told Rolly how she had turned him down gently at first, but when he had the temerity to suggest Sam might be dead, or never come back, she had turned him out sharply with a flash of temper. “My Sam *will* be back, and soon I’m thinking; but even if he’s not back for ten years or twenty, I *will* wait for him, so don’t go and start thinking otherwise! And even if he never comes back while I’m alive I don’t want no other lad--and most especially you!”

Of course, Rolly and his cousin had disagreed on Sam’s ultimate fate. His cousin, like many in the Hobbiton and Bywater area, was under the firm belief that Lotho Sackville-Baggins had sent his ruffians to Buckland to murder Frodo, his cousins, and Sam. Rolly, who had seen and heard the commotion caused by those huge Black Riders was sure that they were not just ruffians. Whoever they were, they would never have taken orders from a mere hobbit. Still neither of them had any doubt that Sam and his companions were dead, and they agreed that though it was a shame, it was also a waste of time for Miss Rose to be waiting on Sam’s return.

Rolly remembered how amazed and delighted they had all been in Buckland when the word had come that Mr. Merry and his companions were back. And then had come the word that Mr. Merry and Mr. Pippin were throwing the ruffians out. He didn’t hear so much about what Mr. Frodo and Sam had done, but after seeing those King’s Men, and how they had bowed to Mr. Frodo and Sam, and told them that anything they wanted the King would do, he had no doubt they had done *something* great and brave. He looked at Miss Rose, and thought of that pretty necklace the King and Queen had sent. He’d kept his mouth shut about that. He knew better than to spoil a lass’s wedding surprise.

The lass in question turned to him and handed him the food package. “Here you are, Rolly. I hope you have a good journey to Michel Delving.”

“Thank you, Miss Rose.” He looked at her warm smile. That Samwise Gamgee was one lucky hobbit. “I’ll be on my way now.”

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The delegation and the hobbits had breakfasted early and broken camp. As they made preparations to mount up and leave, Merry had kept one eye constantly on the road.

“Merry, don’t fret,” said Frodo. “He might not yet be ready for something like this. Even coming out as he did yesterday was a big step for him. He may not want to face anyone today.”

“It was just so hard to see him that way, though, Frodo. Cooped up in his room with nothing but his grief to keep him company.”

“Well,” put in Pippin with a gesture of his chin, “I don’t think you need to fret anymore.”

Merry and Frodo turned to see the hobbit on a pony coming up the road from the east. It was Fredegar. “Sorry I was almost late, but Mother had so many last minute words for me that I thought I’d never get away. Father--” he added with a touch of surprise, “had to put his foot down, or I’d still be standing in the front hall listening to her.”

His three friends laughed. They knew Rosamunda.

“Don’t bother to dismount, Freddy,” said Merry. “We are getting ready to leave right now. Why don’t you ride between Pippin and me, and we can talk as we ride?”

Fredegar nodded, but he cast a wistful eye back down the line, to where Legolas and Gimli now sat atop Arod.

“Don’t worry,” said Frodo. “You will get plenty of chances to speak to Legolas when we reach Hobbiton. Do you remember any of your Elvish?”

“I think so.”

Frodo laughed, and mounted his own pony. He and Sam turned to take their places behind the Thain and the Master. Pippin and Merry, with Freddy between them rode up to their place at the head of the whole thing.

As they moved out, Freddy asked “So what happened after I left you at the Old Forest?”

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Frodo had Sam had been riding quietly. Frodo noticed the thoughtful look on Sam’s face. He was fairly sure he knew the cause.

“You really *do* need to come with us to Tuckborough, Sam. We may need you to tell of some things at the assembly.”

“Mr. Frodo, I’ll do as you ask--you know I will, but I’ve been away from Rosie so much lately. And we have wedding plans to work on. Thrimidge is only a month away.”

“Sam, I wasn’t going to say anything yet, but if it will relieve your mind--the Thain is going to invite Rose and Marigold to come with us to the Great Smials. I wanted to wait until we knew whether they would accept before I said anything to you.”

Sam stared at his master with an expression equally compounded of delight and horror. “My Rosie and my Marigold coming to stay with the Tooks and all? I’m not sure if that would be--”

“Samwise Gamgee,” said Frodo sternly, “*do not dare* to say the word ‘proper’ to me. I have heard it more than enough from your lips. If the Thain thinks it will be appropriate for your betrothed and your sister to come visit the Tooks, then it would *not* be ‘proper’ for *you* to gainsay him.”

Sam’s mouth opened and closed wordlessly, rather like a fish out of water. He could not deny Frodo’s logic, but still…

“Now *I* have a charge for you, Sam. For one week, the word ‘proper’ is not to come out of your mouth.” Frodo fixed his friend with a stern eye, which though it contained a twinkle of humor, was nevertheless perfectly serious.

“A week, Mr. Frodo?” Sam squeaked.

“A week. That should not be so hard for a hobbit who faced all the long leagues of Middle-earth for me.”

Somehow Sam was sure his master was not joking. But he was not sure how hard it would be. He might find it harder than the trek up Mount Doom.

Riding alongside, Legolas and Gimli overheard their conversation. Gimli chuckled. Legolas smiled, and wondered if he could tempt the word out of Sam. No, that would not be fair--amusing, but not fair.

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Back among the pack animals, Leodwald found himself making conversation with Bergil, and with Tip, the stable hobbit. Tip was a Brandybuck, albeit a distant one, he was still proud to carry the name.

“Mr. Leodwald, sir, those are mighty fine ponies and horses you bring out of your country. That Stybba, he’s been the envy of the Shire, ever since Mr. Merry came home.”

“Stybba is indeed a fine pony. He bore Sir Meriadoc through long leagues of Rohan, though not to battle. His son, Pybba is also a fine beast, though he is a gelding.”

“Well, why couldn’t Mr. Merry ride Stybba in battle?”

Bergil interrupted. “Because he rode to battle with the Lady Éowyn, of course.”

“Yes, child, that is true,” responded the Rider of Rohan. “Yet more than that, among the great horses charging into battle, Stybba would have been more a hindrance than a help, however great his heart was. That was one reason our King had told Meriadoc to remain behind.”

“So he didn’t mind the King?” Tip was surprised.

“No, he would not be left out of the fighting, nor would our White Lady. Some of us knew that they were among us, but we had to pretend not to notice them, else all would have been in trouble. Yet it was as well they did disobey, or all would have gone much worse. For it was their destiny to slay the Witch-King.” Leodwald spoke with confidence. Some among the Rohirrim argued whether anyone else could have slain the foul Sorcerer, or whether the Lady or the holbyltla had struck the death blow. But the Lady herself believed that it had taken both of them to do the job, and she ought to know if any did. Leodwald did not think it could have been anything less than fated.

“Well, I always knew that Mr. Merry was right brave, I guess if any hobbit could do such a thing, it would be him.”

“Indeed.” said the Rider.

“Well, of course he is brave!” exclaimed Bergil. “He is Sir Pippin’s cousin!”  And *my* honorary cousin, thought the child smugly.

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Éothain listened to the conversation behind him with amusement. He thought back to the bleak day, riding out after the skirmish with the Orcs near Fangorn with Éomer. Then they had encountered the strangers in the Mark: Man, Elf and Dwarf. He had thought his kinsman Éomer foolish to make them free of the Mark, and not only that, but to lend them horses. In fact, he had said as much, and been told to hold his tongue for his effort. But he had been wrong. How glad he was that he had been wrong. Those strangers had been the saving of Rohan, bringing Gandalf to rid the king of Wormtongue, and bring him back to himself. Then again at Helm’s Deep. And Éomer had been wrong about the holbyltlan being slain among the Orcs, as well.

Éothain remembered, too, his first sight of Meriadoc and Peregrin, sitting among the ruins at Orthanc, spouting smoke from their mouths, and jesting with their friends who had sought to rescue them. Little did he know then of how valiant the creatures were, in spite of their light-heartedness.

When Éomer King had given him the honor of being his messenger to the Shire, he had been pleased, but now he saw it as more than a mere honor. Being able to observe these people in their own land was an experience that would fill him the rest of his life. He chuckled as he thought back to yesterday, and how easily Meriadoc’s father and kinsmen had dealt with the group of troublemakers. These were a worthy race, and any who thought them merely childlike would be foolish indeed. But on that account, anyway, Éothain judged himself a fool no longer.

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