CHAPTER 61

The next morning Frodo was up early, waking to the smell of breakfast cooking.

He went into the kitchen and found Sam busy cooking.

“Sam, what on earth are you doing here so early this morning?” asked Frodo. “You’ve got far too much to do for the wedding to be here making my breakfast!”

“That’s *why* I’m here early, Mr. Frodo. I thought you and Mr. Gimli would be enjoying a bit of breakfast before I start on the kitchen garden; Mr. Legolas has already gone out for his walk of a morning. But with all the things I have to do, and having to go to Rosie’s to sit for the gifts in the afternoon, I knew I’d better get a start on things early if I’m to get anything done here at all.”

“Sam, you know I meant for you to be taking time off!”

Sam laughed. “Mr. Frodo, I’ve had more than enough time off this Spring. If I don’t spend a bit of time here now, before the wedding, I’m going to have to spend it after. I don’t think you want me to have to take my honeymoon weeding the flowerbeds?” He laughed good-naturedly.

Frodo sighed. “Well, I guess you know your own business better than I do, so I’ll say no more. But I want you to let Rosie know you are your own taskmaster in this. I don’t want her to think I’m taking advantage of you.”

Sam looked scandalized. “Why, Mr. Frodo! She never would!” He expertly flipped the pancake he was making. “What do you have planned today, sir?”

“This morning I need to go see the woodwright, and find out if he has finished the new beds for Merry’s and Pippin’s guest rooms. They will be here soon, maybe this very evening, or tomorrow at the latest, and I’d like the beds in place before they arrive, if possible, especially since Pippin’s young friend Bergil is coming with them.”

“Is he really?” asked Sam, and then smiled slyly. “You did remember to order new sheets?”

Frodo snorted. “Yes, I did. I’m not likely to forget the mistake Bilbo almost made.”

Both hobbits laughed at this, remembering when Bilbo had built the new guest room for Gandalf, and had nearly forgotten that hobbit sized sheets would not fit a Man-sized bed.

Just then Gimli came in, drawn by the wonderful smells of Sam’s cooking, and the three sat down to breakfast.

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“Well, Mr. Tunelly, the beds look just fine! I’m very pleased with the workmanship.”

They were in fact, sturdy and well built, half again as wide, and nearly two feet longer, than the average hobbit bed, but not quite as large as a Man-sized bed. The headboards had been carved, one with the tree and stars of Gondor, and the other with the running horse of Rohan. Otherwise, they were plain, but the grain of the wood perfectly matched and the finish was a glossy shine.

“Can you have them delivered and set up this afternoon?” Frodo asked, as he handed over the agreed upon payment.

“Most certainly, Mr. Baggins. I’ll send ‘em up along with a couple of my sturdy lads, right after luncheon.”

“Very good,” said Frodo. “I’ll be expecting them, then.”

After leaving the woodwright’s shop, Frodo headed for his lawyer’s office. He had a bit of business to conduct, that he had been putting off for some little while.

“Mr. Baggins, it’s good to see you,” said the lawyer. Mr. Grubb could remember when he was just a lad, and his grandfather had handled Frodo’s adoption by Bilbo. He had only been fourteen at the time, but he recalled it well. What a happy time that had been, though it was the occasion of much gossip, a lot of it evil-minded and started by the Sackville-Baggins.

“It’s nice to see you again, as well, Mr. Grubb. How is your grandfather?”

“Getting on in years. I am afraid he spends much of his time sleeping.” Grubb sighed. “Now, what can I do for you today?”

“Well, as you know, the circumstances under which I made my last will are somewhat changed. When I left, I fully expected never to return. Nor did I expect my cousins to accompany me. That was a bit of a surprise for me, I am afraid. And of course, Samwise was accompanying me.”

Grubb nodded. Under those circumstances, Frodo had made young Meriadoc and young Peregrin his legatees, not knowing that it would be useless to do so.

“My health is not what it once was. There is no chance now of my marrying or having children of my own. As there are no other male Baggins in my generation, there should be no problem in allowing me to choose a non-Baggins as my heir. Merry and Pippin have all they need and then some. I would like to make my heir Samwise Gamgee.”

“You do realize there will be some spiteful things said about this. I know Samwise, and am aware that he would be quite worthy, but there are those who will hold the fact of his being your gardener against him.”

Frodo’s eyes sparked with a rare anger. “They will be quite out of countenance if they do. I do believe it has been established that he holds one of the highest ranks in the re-established Kingdoms, and that he has the close friendship of the King, not to mention the future Master of Buckland and the future Thain of the Shire. Anyone who does not show him all the honor he deserves will find the problem on his or her own doorstep.”

Grubb grinned. “I think you are quite right. But it was my duty as your lawyer to mention it.”

“I would like to keep this will as quiet as possible. If you could arrange to have it drawn up, and will find six of the witnesses, people whom you trust to keep their silence, I will provide the seventh. I would prefer to do this in your office. I do not want Sam to know. For of all the people who will object, he himself would object the loudest.” And now Frodo allowed himself a sly smile.

“Very well,” said Grubb, smiling himself, and imagining the surprise all this would be to the humble young gardener. “Is there anything else?”

“Yes; please make the usual arrangements for a Baggins,” and now he looked thoughtful. “You know the clause I mean.”

“Ah. The one about taking effect if you leave the Shire permanently.”

“That’s the one. I *am* Bilbo’s heir after all. No need of taking chances.” Frodo glanced away and bit his thumbnail.

Grubb nodded, and made a note. He also made note to himself that it appeared Frodo Baggins might very well consider leaving the Shire again. A shame really, that he could not find it in himself to settle down, but there it was--he was a Baggins, with a good deal of Took and Brandybuck in him. A very dangerous combination, and not one Grubb thought was conducive to a quiet life.

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Frodo left the lawyer’s office and stopped off briefly at the seamstress’s, to see if the sheets and bedcoverings he had ordered were finished. They were, and Frodo arranged for them to be delivered after luncheon. With any luck, they would arrive at about the same time as the new beds.

As he passed Bagshot Row--no, New Row, now--Marigold called out to him. “Hello, Mr. Frodo, how are you doing today?”

“I’m doing well enough, Marigold. Is Sam here?”

“He just came in for lunch a moment ago. He’s in the kitchen washing up. Would you care to take lunch with us? We‘ve a bit of nice vegetable soup and some dark bread.”

“Why, yes, thank you. That sounds very nice. I shan‘t be able to linger, though, as I‘m expecting some deliveries this afternoon. Do you think you could come up and prepare the guest rooms for me? I am expecting Merry, Pippin and Fredegar tonight or tomorrow. Oh, and Pippin‘s young friend Bergil as well.”

“Certainly, Mr. Frodo. And we’ll have to have a quick lunch anyway, as Sam has to go over to the Cotton’s afterwards.” She grinned.

“Ah, yes, to sit for the wedding gifts.”

After lunch, the Gaffer retired for a nap, Sam took Bill the Pony and headed for the Cotton farm, and Marigold walked up to Bag End with Frodo.

She kept looking as though she wanted to ask him a question. Finally, Frodo looked at her and said “Out with it, Marigold. What do you want to know?”

She blushed. “Well, Mr. Frodo, Tom and I will be getting wed ourselves, and we’ve decided to do it during Lithe. Seeing as how you are doing the marrying for Sam and Rosie, it seemed to me as how maybe you might could do it for us, too?”

“I would be honored Marigold. In fact, I have made up my mind to give over being Deputy Mayor at that time, so yours will be the last wedding I will officiate.”

She looked troubled. “But Mr. Frodo, you are doing such a good job of it. I will surely be sorry to see you give it up.”

“Well, I don’t know how good a job I am doing, but I do know that I have developed quite a distaste for politics, and am heartily tired of it. I do like weddings, though,” he smiled.

“Tom and I do thank you then, sir.” She blushed prettily, as they came up to the smial. The carters from the woodwright’s shop, and the delivery hobbit from the seamstress arrived at just the same time.

The woodwright’s assistants took down the old beds and stored them in one of the mathom-rooms, and then put up the new ones. Marigold took the new bedcoverings and began to make the beds. She also went in to straighten up the other guest rooms.

“Where are Mr. Legolas and Mr. Gimli this afternoon?” she asked Frodo.

“Ah, they went down to the Cotton’s to take their gifts to Sam and Rose.”

“Oh my! To think they will have wedding gifts of an Elf and a Dwarf! And Rose had one of the King! It would be enough to turn a lass’s head, it would, if it were anyone less sensible than our Rosie!”

“I don’t think there is much that would turn Rose’s head besides Sam,” said Frodo.

Marigold laughed. “That’s probably the reason then, Mr. Frodo.”

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Sam and Rose sat on the settee in the Cotton’s front room, comfortably, but not scandalously close. They’d had a few gifts trickle in, but most would start to show up the next day.

There was another knock on the door, and Lily went to open it. She ushered Legolas and Gimli into the room with a broad smile. Legolas was having to duck considerably, as the Cotton ceiling was quite a bit lower than the one at Bag End. He sat down upon the floor next to the young couple, and Gimli took a nearby chair. The Dwarf held a box upon his knees. Legolas had a small package wrapped in linen and tied with a ribbon.

Gimli spoke first. “Well, Master Sam and Miss Rose, we have come to bring your wedding gifts according to the custom of your people.” He held forth the box. Sam took it and handed it to Rosie.

She lifted the lid, and her eyes grew wide. Inside were two beautifully wrought pewter goblets. Along the stem and up the sides of the cup twined a climbing rose.

“They are of pewter, as I wish you to make use of them, and knowing you, Master Sam, if they were of silver, you would put them on a shelf to look at and never drink from them. I tell you, Miss Rose, these are to be used, or I shall be very vexed.” His eyes twinkled as he said it.

Sam held one of them up to look at. “You made these yourself, didn’t you, Mr. Gimli?”

Gimli smiled. “ ‘T wouldn’t be much of a gift if I didn’t, now, would it?” For that was the Dwarven way.

“Now it is my turn,” said Legolas. He handed the parcel to Sam. Rose untied the ribbon and let the wrapping fall away. Inside a small open basket held several little packets of paper. Puzzled, she picked one up and showed it to Sam.

He looked at the word on the front. “Elanor.” He gasped. “Mr. Legolas, is this what I think it is?”

Legolas nodded with a smile. “Yes. It is the seeds of the flower elanor, from the Golden Wood.” He lifted another little packet. “Here are some seeds of niphredil, also from Lothlorien. Here is simbelmynë from Rohan. This one is a nameless little golden flower from Ithilien. It grows as a climbing vine, so I have marked it “yellow creeper”, but doubtless you will find a nicer name for it. It seems to be very hardy. I found it growing amid the ruins. Here is mountain daisy from the heights above Minas Tirith. And from Rivendell is seregon,⁽¹⁾ called White Stonecrop in the western tongue. It grows well among rocks and stone walls, and is often used by Lord Elrond to stop bleeding⁽²⁾.   And here is loth-ithil,⁽³⁾the Moonflower from my own home in the Greenwood. It is a vine which grows well in the deep shade. It is a night bloomer, with large round white blooms that open at moonrise and close at sun-up. If you should plant it within the next two weeks, you will have the blooms from Midsummer to first frost.”

Sam’s eyes were wide and shining. “Oh, Mr. Legolas! This is grand this is! Look, Rosie! Oh my!”

Soon he and Legolas were in deep conversation over where and when to plant the precious seeds.

Rose laughed and looked at Gimli, who gave her a rueful shrug. “Well,” she said, “it looks like we’ve lost them now.”

Sam and Legolas did not even hear.

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Frodo had said farewell to Marigold after they had finished putting the smial to rights. He found himself wandering about, picking things up and putting them down again. It suddenly occurred to him that this was the first time since his return to the Shire that he was actually alone in his own hole.

He was not really sure how he felt about that.

After all, he had spent seventeen years living here on his own, alone except for the visits of his cousins and Gandalf. He had thought it perfectly natural. Bilbo before him had lived alone for decades until he adopted Frodo. But now he wondered. Perhaps his disinclination to marry and share his life had been fostered not by his own solitary nature, but by the Ring, ever jealous. He knew that now he was eager to have Sam and Rose come live under his roof. Perhaps he would never know for certain.

Shaking off the disturbing thoughts, he went to the kitchen to prepare tea. Legolas and Gimli should be returning from their visit to Sam any time now. Perhaps a nice mushroom pie…

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(1) Plant name found at http://www.uib.no./People/hnohf/vocab.htm.

(2) Information found at http://www.magdalin.com/herbs/plants_pages/s/stonecro.htm

(3) This name I made up using elements found in site (1). If anyone wiser than I in the ways of Sindarin would care to correct it, please let me know.