This is inspired by “For Eyes to See as Can” by Larner, in which Frodo writes a story for Sam as a birthday present on the first birthday Frodo spends at Bag End after being adopted by Bilbo. Sam would be 10, Frodo 22.
 
 

The Story of a Garden, by Frodo Baggins

There once was a garden that grew under a full-grown elm near the edge of town. Many flowers and plants lived in the garden and there was something that everyone could enjoy. Closest to the tree, where there was always shade, grew the blue hydrangea, white periwinkle, pink-with-purple bergamot, and spiky bushes of fern; spreading out from there, where the sun sometimes shone through the leaves of the tree and even blazed the ground to chase away the shade, were the scarlet cinquefoil, soft-pink and white abelia, sky-blue delphinium and grand bushes of lavender. Surrounding the garden were low-cut hedgerows that bore berries in the summer and all year long the many rose bushes bloomed with magnificence in every color of the rainbow.

The garden belonged to no one, but everyone who passed it would stop and enjoy it. If ever they saw a weed or an overgrown bush, they would tend it as if it were their own so the next person could enjoy it all the more. In that manner the garden was tended almost daily, for it grew off the main road going toward the marketplace and there were many hobbits who passed it every day. The garden has always been there from time out of memory, according to Holman Greenhand, the oldest hobbit and the first ever gardener to live in those parts, so he should know!

It was called Hobbits’ Garden, but hobbits were not the only ones who enjoyed its simple beauty. Bees, moths, ladybugs and butterflies visited there often, and there were many birds that lived in the branches of the tree and even a solitary squirrel resided in the bole, though he was allowed to stay only if he did not invite any of his friends to join him, to which he happily agreed. The earthworms of that garden were the fattest found anywhere, and the moles loved it so much that they dug holes deep beneath the soil so they could live there and never have to leave it. They all lived happily together, for their love of the garden united them when nothing else would.  

Then one night, a heavy rainstorm blew into the Shire and the animals and insects were worried, for this storm was fierce and angry, and they feared what it might do to their home. Father Mole told Runner Squirrel of his worry, and Runner took the message to Mother Sparrow. Mother Sparrow braved the storm and flew up to the clouds to beg mercy for their home and the storm was so moved by her bravery that he agreed to spare the garden and all that lived in it. Mother Sparrow thanked him with a song and flew back down to the elm to convey the good news. She, Father Mole, Runner Squirrel and everyone else rejoiced and let their worries be forgotten.

Morning came. The Sun rose over the hills to awaken all her children and she was shocked at what she saw. The land was in waste. Everywhere there was debris and spoilage but for one little spot on the outskirts of the town, which bloomed more beautifully and proudly than it ever had before. She marveled at the sight and wondered how that could be, and just what Storm had been planning when he overlooked the little garden.

Hobbits awoke with the sun and began to repair the damage done. They were soon so busy fixing their own homes and gardens, not to mention stores, shops, inns, roads and even carts and carriages, that no one but the animals and insects had time to spare for the little garden. That was hardly the worst of it, for the storm also brought out the snails, slugs and caterpillars, and white flies were hatching in the many large pools of water left from the rainfall, and the weeds were popping up everywhere one looked. As the pests were dispelled from other gardens and crop fields, they looked about for a new home and began to invade Hobbits’ Garden with great zest.

It was a great and sad war. The moles ate the roots out of many weeds, but where one failed, ten more would take root. The birds flew down to carry away the snails and slugs, and gave the caterpillars to their hatchlings, while the squirrel ran up and down the tree and bushes to chase away the white flies, but no matter how many of the pests they dispelled, more always came. Ants began to arrive and eat away at the leaves of the plants, and the flies were so numerous that no other color could be seen. The plants began to fail. The bulbs grew a fuzzy white mold and the leaves became slimy and brown, or spotted and discolored. The animals and insects who lived there at last had to give up and they sadly left their home for the other gardens that were slowly beginning to bloom again in other parts of town.

So it was that many weeks passed as the hobbits fixed their homes and went back to their everyday lives, but the road that passed by the little garden was lost beyond repair and a new road was built closer to the center of town. No one walked by the little garden anymore and if they did, they would not be able to recognize it, for it was now overrun with pests and weeds. After a time, even the pests left, having nothing else to feed upon, and the weeds grew so big that even the hedges were in danger were being crowded out of their roots. A season passed and then another, then the cold of winter settled over the land, and when the snow melted and the gentle spring rains returned, there was nothing left of the garden but the tree and the bare stems of the flowers and bushes that would not bloom or sprout.

The Sun looked sadly upon this once beautiful garden and wondered what she could do to help. She spotted a young hobbit lad playing alone nearby, down the way on the old broken road. She sent Wind to whisper in the hobbit lad’s ears and the lad shivered at the feel of its cold breath. He stood and went in search of protection from the wind and spotted up ahead an elm tree. He headed toward it and when he came to it, he looked at the garden with shock and shed tears of great sorrow.

How could he have forgotten Hobbits’ Garden? How could they all? There was no excuse for it and he sought to make things right again. He ran home and grabbed a barrow and spade and returned to the garden for a long day of work. He soon found that it would take more than just a day to sort out the wrongs that had plagued this little plot of land for the past many months, and he spent every day there from sun up to sun down, uprooting weeds, shooing away stray or returning pests, and turning out the bad soil for the good.

Already, the garden was beginning to look better for his care, but he soon decided that the old plants and flowers had to be uprooted and replaced altogether. Not wanting to waste them, the lad turned the poor dead plants into mulch, so that it could cover the ground of the newly planted garden and help it grow, and in that way, the old garden could give life to the new. Once the plants were cleared, the last of the pests went away on their own, and the topsoil was dug up to be rid of the weeds for good.

He left the plot alone then, to let the spring rains do their work and refresh the ground before he planted. The poor elm tree would have been truly lonely then, but the hobbit lad made sure to visit every day and he would often sit against the tree’s bole and sing the afternoons away. His singing brought back the birds, and Mother Sparrow taught him many songs he had not heard before. Runner Squirrel came back and did the last of the clean up, emptying out his little hole in the tree and filling it with fresh leaves and sprigs – with the tree’s permission of course. Father Mole tunneled through the soil from a nearby field and came back to his old home, which had survived everything without harm. Now they all waited, wondering when the hobbit lad would begin replanting.

One day, the lad came with a bag full of seeds and he spread these upon the ground, with a stern word to Runner that all the seeds better be allowed to take root and that he would know it if even one flower failed to grow. Runner swore to behave himself, for he wanted his garden back as much as all the others, and they watched as the lad spread the mulch upon the ground. Then the rains watered the ground, and the next day the Sun shined right where it was needed the most while the tree protected the plants at its bole.

At first nothing appeared to happen, but Rain and Sun took turns with the garden, and every day, whether rain or shine, the hobbit lad would come to spend time with the residents of the garden. He sang and he laughed and he told the animals many stories to pass the hours, but still nothing grew or sprouted. The animals and tree were beginning to despair, but the hobbit lad was as joyful as ever, so they took heart in his cheer and hoped it would be enough.

Then one morning when the Sun came to wake up the land, the birds chirped with wonder, for there poking out of the ground all around the tree were so many sprouts that it almost looked like grass. The sprouts grew every day and soon bulbs began to form. Another week passed, and the flowers were breaking into bloom. The hobbit lad came back then to plant the bushes, hedges and ferns, and he let Rain and Sun do their work. To everyone’s joy, the garden was coming back to life.

Only a month after the last planting, the garden was in full bloom again and it looked better and grander than ever before. Hobbits began to walk past it again, not caring that it was out of their way now, and the bees, butterflies, moths and ladybugs rejoiced when they returned to find the garden even more glorious than they remembered it. Every day, the hobbit lad visited, making sure that the flowers and plants were truly rooted into their new home, and the birds, mole and squirrel always came out to greet him and pass an hour or two in song.

The garden was renamed Sam’s Garden, after the lad who had replanted it, and while Sam would always claim that the garden was no more his than anyone else’s, those that lived there knew the truth. He had given them back their home and had rebuilt it with his own hands, and so to their way of seeing things, it belonged to him, and even though he visited less often as the years went by, every time they saw him they sang him a song.

The End!

“Thank you for being my sun in the storm.”
~ your friend, Frodo

GF 3/23/06