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A Tale That Grew in the Telling  by GamgeeFest

Chapter 5 – Missing, Part II

Rethe 26

“Tom?” Rosie called from her perch on the table. “What’s going on?”

Tom shrugged his shoulders, not taking his eyes off Robin as the young shirriff walked away with his best friend. When he failed to make any further response, Jolly answered for him. “Robin was telling us how he got picked for the shirriffs, then he pulled Sam away to talk. It seemed mighty serious.”

Lily shook her head impatiently and waved her sons over to the chopping blocks. “Well, whatever it is, leave them be. I’m sure we’ll hear all about it sooner or later. In the meantime, this wood won’t chop itself. Jolly, it’s your turn with Finch now. Tom, you’re next.”

“I can’t go without Sam,” Tom reasoned and used this excuse to walk towards the barn. 

He stayed far enough away so as not to eavesdrop, but close enough to read Sam’s and Robin’s facial expressions. He noted Sam’s agitated confusion and Robin’s reluctance. Finally, Sam placed his hands on his hips like he did when he was demanding an answer to something, and Robin drew himself up and calmly replied. Tom could not begin to imagine what kind of news Robin had to deliver that he would have to screw himself up so much to give it. 

Tom’s sense of unease grew as the scene before him seemed to freeze for the longest of moments, and he knew that something bad was about to happen. 


“It’s your master, Mr. Baggins. He went missing, just before the storm hit.”

Robin froze after his declaration, readying himself for Sam’s reaction. He expected Sam to shout out in dismay or make some other such dramatic display. What happened instead was much worse. Sam simply looked at him with an expression of stubbornly confused doubt and for several moments, said and did nothing. Then he slowly shook his head.

“What are you rambling on about?” Sam asked. Had he just heard Robin correctly? “Where did you hear this from? Is Ted Sandyman back and spreading rumors again? You know better than to listen to him.”

Robin shook his head and tried to remember what he had so elaborately rehearsed during his ride from Frogmorton. “It’s from Mr. Merimac Brandybuck, the Master’s brother, that this news comes,” he began. “He came into Frogmorton yesterday afternoon. He had ridden all the previous night and that whole day to get to us. According to him, on the day of the storm, it was discovered that your master was missing. He was nowhere to be found in Brandy Hall or the area immediately nearby. The best that could be figured, the last time anyone saw Mr. Baggins was the night before, around the time the storm started. They were to start searching all of Buckland yesterday until he’s found,” Robin finished, relieved to finally have the story out but worried still about how Sam would take it once the news sunk in.

Sam was silent for many minutes, trying to sort out what he had just heard. He seemed reluctant still to believe the story and shook his head again. “That doesn’t make any kind of sense,” he said at long last. “How could he be gone so long without anyone realizing it?” he asked, as if he could reason the problem away.

“I don’t know, Sam,” Robin replied. “But it happened. Mr. Baggins is lost, but they are searching for him, high and low.”

Sam mulled this over as he began to absent-mindedly fidget with one of his shirt buttons, his expression growing more confused and agitated by the second. He was beginning to accept at last what Robin was telling him. He really had no choice but to accept it, as he knew Robin would never lie to him, especially about something so serious as this. But that didn’t mean that Robin would not refrain from mentioning certain facts if he felt Sam couldn’t handle hearing them. Sam suspected this was the case, as there was something about all this that wasn’t making sense. 

“What aren’t you telling me, Robin? Mr. Frodo wouldn’t go disappearing into a rainstorm for no reason. And if he’s in Buckland, why are they sending word over here?” he demanded.

Robin grew reluctant again, affirming Sam’s suspicions by his hesitation alone. Sam returned his hands to his hips and glared at his friend. Robin sighed and rushed ahead, knowing it would be futile in any case to try to keep the information from him. He would hear it one way or another eventually.

“They think he wasn’t in a … ‘right frame of mind’ when he left. They think he was troubling over something and that’s why he took off. They don’t know what that something could be, but they think there’s a slight possibility he could be making his way home. But they think it’s more likely that he’s in Buckland, that he was injured or some such in the storm. That’s why they’re searching Buckland, see, but they still wanted to send word over the River just in case. Of course,” and here he paused and braced himself for the inevitable, “they think it’s also likely that Mr. Baggins left a purpose. … That he left the Shire and won’t be back.”

“They think?” Sam asked, his tone and expression incredulous. “They’re certainly spending a lot of time thinking. Why don’t any of them know anything?”

“They just weren’t expecting this to happen, that’s all,” Robin shrugged, realizing too late that was the wrong response.

Sam let go of his shirt button and began to pace. The fear Robin had expected earlier had finally arrived and in full force as Sam at last realized what this news meant. What Robin had not counted on was anger. He watched as Sam’s pacing quickened, and he stepped back a few paces as Sam began to rant, his normally sweet and gentle voice gradually growing from frustration to full on rage. 

“Not expecting it? And why would they? Mr. Frodo wouldn’t take off for no reason or no word, and he especially wouldn’t just leave the Shire. Any fool would know that. Though they must be fools, for how else could he slip past over two hundred hobbits to walk outside into a rainstorm? Wasn’t anyone watching him? And how could they not know if something was bothering him? Even if he was trying to hide it, which of course he would, all you have to do is watch for the way he fusses with the things in his pockets to know something is wrong. Wasn’t anyone paying attention? And if they did know, why didn’t they do anything about it? Don’t they care? And where were Mr. Merry and Mr. Pippin that they didn’t notice he was gone until clear into the next day!”

“Sam! Sam, calm down,” Tom said as he stopped Sam’s pacing by placing strong hands upon his friend’s shoulders. He had run into the barn when Sam started yelling and now turned to Robin, who was watching Sam as if he had never seen the gardener before in his life. “Robin, what’s this all about? I could hear him shouting clear outside,” he said as Tolman and Lily rushed into the barn.

“What in the name of the Shire is all this racket about?” Tolman asked. 

They too had heard the commotion – everyone had. Lily had quickly handed control of the contest over to another hobbitess and ordered everyone to stay put, then had come running behind her husband to find out what the problem was. Neither of them could remember ever hearing Sam raise his voice in anger before, and they were greatly concerned about what could have caused the outburst. 

Tolman stood next to Tom, and Lily went to Sam’s other side to help her son in his attempts to calm the unusually upset gardener. She was shocked to feel the tension in Sam’s muscles, strained so tight they were shaking. “You best start at the beginning lad,” she said to Robin.

So Robin repeated everything, avoiding Sam’s glare as best he could. He noticed that the Cottons were taking the news rather hard as well, and he wondered how much of that was for Sam’s benefit. Everyone knew how highly Sam regarded his employer, and his outburst had shown them just how deep that attachment went.

When he finished, everyone was quiet as they absorbed the full implication and meaning of the news. Hearing it a second time had done Sam no favors. He was now leaning heavily against Tom and his expression was one of resigned disbelief and shock.

“Oh dear,” Lily said at last. She tightened her grip on Sam’s arm and concernedly stroked his hair. “That doesn’t sound good at all. Not in a right frame of mind? Mr. Baggins may have his oddities, but I always found him to be a sensible, levelheaded lad. I can’t see him doing something as rash as this.”

Tolman Cotton shook his head. “It’s none of our mind what Mr. Baggins does or doesn’t do, but you, Sam… Let’s get you into the house until you calm down, and then you best get on home for the day. You’ll go with him, Tom. You too Robin.”

“Yes sir,” Tom and Robin agreed.

They slowly made their way out of the barn and towards the house. As soon as they emerged outside, all pretense of keeping up the contest stopped. Everyone turned and gawked at the sight of the usually sturdy Gamgee being guided by Tom and Lily, with Robin walking miserably alongside and Farmer Cotton leading the group.

Tolman reached the contest area in time to stop May, Marigold, Jolly and Rosie from rushing to Sam’s side. “Stay here at least long enough for me to explain what’s going on. That way no one has to repeat themselves a hundred different times.” He waited until he heard the kitchen door close before proceeding with the news.


In the house, Tom and Lily led Sam to the guest room and sat him upon the bed. Tom went to grab a pitcher of apple juice and a glass, while Lily went to retrieve a couple of damp cloths. Robin sat next to Sam and draped a supportive arm around his friend’s shoulders to keep him sitting upright. Sam just sat where they had put him, staring blankly at the wall.

Moments later, Lily bustled in, with Tom close behind. “Lay him down Robin, and prop his legs and feet up with the pillows. Leave his head level with the bed. Tom, have him drink two glasses of juice now, wait ten minutes and give him another.”

“What’s wrong with him Ma?” Tom asked uncertainly as Robin quickly followed the orders given him. It was easy enough as Sam seemed aware of everything going on around him and lay down on his own with support from Robin. He let his friend move the pillows from under his head to under his feet, yet he said nothing and continued to look around the room with a dazed expression, and his face was pale. 

“He’s gone into a bit of a shock, poor thing. It should pass soon enough, but for now, keep him drinking that juice. All this news drained him out, and that will help replace some of the gumption he lost,” Lily explained. She handed the damp cloths to Robin, who was still sitting next to Sam on the bed, now holding his hand. “Robin, dear, place these towels underneath his head and on the top of his chest near his neck, no need to undo the shirt.”

Robin reached over with his free hand and took the towels. Sam lifted his head so Robin could slip a rolled-up cloth under his neck, and Tom helped Sam drink his first two glasses of juice at the same time. Then they gently laid him down again and Robin placed the second cloth upon Sam’s chest. Robin ran his fingers through Sam’s hair, pushing errant curls off of his pale face while Tom and Lily looked on. “Sam,” he said pleadingly, “say something.”

Sam was silent for what seemed like agonizingly long minutes before mumbling, “This is all my fault.”

“Now Sam, you know it isn’t,” Tom said. He knelt by the bed and took his friend’s other hand in both of his. “How could you even think such a thing?”

Again Sam took a long time to respond. By the time he did, there was a thundering of feet outside in the kitchen. He answered just as Jolly, Rosie and his sisters burst into the room, speaking so quietly that only Robin could hear the answer. “I should have been with him.”

“Oh, Sam!” Marigold exclaimed a second later as she saw her brother lying upon the bed, looking as close to death as she had ever seen a living person look. She attempted to rush to his side, as did May, Jolly and Rosie, but Lily stepped in front of them and blocked their path.

“Not so fast, children,” she ordered in a calm, controlled voice. “I know you’re all concerned but we must not crowd him. May and Goldie, you take over for Tom and Robin. You lads, go fetch the cart and harness, and get ready Robin’s pony. You’ll have to take Sam home when he’s ready. Rosie, go into the kitchen and put together a bowl of mixed berries, then bring it in here for Sam. He needs to eat something for the shock.”

The children quickly obeyed. Tom gave Marigold the glass of apple juice, and he and Robin followed Jolly outside, back to the barn. Rosie went with her mother to the kitchen as Marigold and May took over vigil of their brother.

Sam became more respondent with his sisters in the room and took the glass of juice to drink himself. The muddled confusion in his mind was beginning to clear and he was starting to feel silly for all the commotion he was causing. But with the clearing of his mind came the questions and ‘what ifs’ and Sam soon found it difficult to continue laying still. When he tried to sit up, however, his sisters gently pushed him back down. He waited a minute before trying again to rise, and again his sisters restrained him.

“I can sit up,” he said tersely. 

“Sam, you can’t see how pale you are,” May replied worriedly. “You stay put until Auntie Lily says you can get up.”

Sam complied then and stayed put as he was told. He really did feel strangely tired and lightheaded, but without something to do, he could only replay over and again everything Robin had told him. There was a horrible image in his mind of Mr. Frodo running blindly through the rain, then slipping and falling down an enormously high cliff. Or twisting his ankle and falling into a ravine. Or tripping over something and falling into the river. 

‘Now what was it Robin said about the River?’ he thought. It had flooded over, but there was something else. A flash flood. What if Mr. Frodo was trying to cross the bridge over the river when the flood came down? Sam had never seen a flash flood, but from everything he heard about them, they were dangerous and destroyed everything in their path. Panic overtook him and he sat up at last, despite his sisters’ attempts to restrain him. He was simply too strong for them and without his willing compliance, they had no hope of keeping him abed.

“Sam, you need to rest,” May said as Sam swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. He waited until the room stopped spinning, then grabbed the towel on his chest and threw it upon the bed. He crossed the room in three long strides and was almost out the door when Rosie came back. They nearly collided and Sam had to reach out quickly to grab hold of the doorframe to keep from stumbling backward.

Rosie looked up at him with surprise and concern. “You shouldn’t be out of bed,” she said then handed him a small bowl of sweet berries. “You need to eat. It will make you feel better.”

“I need to speak to Robin,” he countered and attempted to squeeze past her.

Rosie, however, wasn’t about to let him go so easily. She placed a hand upon his arm and rooted herself between him and the exit. She knew he couldn’t get past her without pushing her aside, and she knew also Sam would never attempt to do that. He frowned at her but she shook her head. 

“I’ll get Robin, but only if you go back to that bed and lie down as Ma told you. Take this bowl with you and eat everything in it. And another glass of apple juice, Goldie,” she said, looking pointedly at Sam. Keeping her one hand upon his arm, she motioned with the other towards the bed. “Go on, now.”

“But Rosie,” Sam started but was quickly cut off.

“Don’t you ‘but Rosie’ me, Samwise Gamgee,” Rosie said. “You do as you’re told or I shall get Pa, and then we’ll see what Gaffer has to say about your appreciation of our hospitality.”

That did the trick. Sam grumpily took the bowl and returned to the bed. Rosie waited until he was sitting down, leaning against the wall for support, his mouth full of strawberries, before leaving to get Robin. May and Marigold tried their best not to snicker but couldn’t hide their smirks. “Oh, quiet you,” Sam grumbled as he took a bite of blueberry. 

Sam was finishing the last of his snack when Robin returned, followed by Rosie, Jolly and Tom. “Pony’s ready,” Robin said. “We best get you home Sam. Are you feeling better?”

But Sam wasn’t interested in his own needs at the moment and ignored the question. He quickly swallowed his last bite and turned to his friend. “You said there was a flash flood,” he started. “What if Mr. Frodo was coming home and he was on the bridge when it came down?”

Robin shook his head. Is that what had got Sam so riled up? “No, Sam,” he reassured. “If Mr. Baggins was coming home, he’d have been well over the bridge by that time, so don’t you fret none.”

Sam nodded, having no choice but to believe his friend. After all, he only knew the lands within twenty miles of Hobbiton and couldn’t begin to know how long it would take to get to and from anywhere beyond the Three-Farthing Stone. Then a more hopeful thought occurred to him. “The storm began three nights ago. If Mr. Frodo were coming home, he’d be arriving today. I need to get to Bag End.”

“You need to get home,” Jolly corrected.

“Then I’ll go up to Bag End and get Daddy,” Marigold finished. 

“Come on,” Tom said. “Pa’s given us all leave to go, so we’d better get moving on.”

So Sam was at last allowed out of bed. His sisters stayed close to him in case he stumbled, but Sam walked steadily and with determination. He was still somewhat pale, but his energy had returned in the form of adrenaline as his heart raced with the hope that he would be seeing Mr. Frodo soon. He would see about being left on Bagshot Row once they got home, but now was not the time for arguments.

They piled into the cart and Robin took the reins. The ride to Hobbiton was subdued. No one really knew what to say. They all hoped to find Mr. Baggins once they arrived home, but they couldn’t forget what else Robin had said, about the possibility that Mr. Baggins may have taken off like old Bilbo Baggins had all those years ago. Sam also remained quiet and kept a hopeful eye towards home. 

When they reached Bagshot Row, Sam tried to argue against being taken home, but he was rather outnumbered. Robin stopped the cart for Marigold to jump out where the lane met the Row. She ran up the Hill as Robin urged the pony to Number Three, where everyone clambered out and made their way inside. Sam only managed one brief glance up the Hill before being led inside the smial.

“Really, I’m fine,” he insisted as May and Rosie led him to the kitchen. “I’m much better now, honest. I can go up to Bag End.”

“No!” five friends said in unison.


“Daddy!” Marigold called as she entered the gate of Bag End. She ran up the path and into the smial’s front entrance. “Daddy!”

“What are you doing in there, lass?” Hamfast called. He had been startled from his work by his daughter’s many frantic calls and had come running from the back garden to see what was the matter. He came to the front of the hole to find Marigold standing fretfully in the doorway to Bag End. “Why aren’t you at the Cottons? What’s happened?”

“Is Mr. Baggins here then?” she asked, indicating the door as she ran down the steps to her father.

“Of course he ain’t,” Hamfast said, growing more confused by the second. “That door’s broken, though how I can’t see. Locksmith should be here soon. Now are you going to tell me what you’re doing here lass, or not?”

“It’s Sam; he’s not well.”

“Is he hurt?” Hamfast exclaimed, his heart sinking and pounding simultaneously with fear for his youngest son. 

“No, not that kind of not well,” Marigold said and grabbed her father’s arm. “I’ll explain on the way home.”


“Really, I don’t need any more food,” Sam was protesting to May and Rosie as his father and younger sister arrived. He saw them and stood up expectantly. “Is Mr. Frodo here?” he asked.

Marigold shook her head apologetically as Hamfast came to his son’s side and felt his forehead, which other than being a bit clammy felt fine. “Are you all right, Sammy?” he asked, forgetting Sam’s age and calling him by his childhood nickname in his worry.

“Yes, I’m fine,” Sam said, losing patience. “Why won’t anyone believe me? Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get to Bag End. I should be there when Mr. Frodo gets back. Please, Gaffer?”

Hamfast considered, carefully scrutinizing his son. Sam did appear to be fine enough, but he wondered how long that would last if Mr. Baggins didn’t show up as Sam was hoping. Still, there was no point in forcing Sam to stay at home when he didn’t need to be, and at least he could get some work done with what was left of the day if he went up to Bag End.

“Very well,” Hamfast finally agreed, “but you’re working while you’re up there, and I want someone with you.”

“We’ll go,” Tom and Robin said, stepping forward. 

Hamfast looked up, for the first time noticing the company, and gave a start. “Robin Smallburrows! Good to see you, my lad,” he greeted. “Do you know your way around a garden?”

“I think I can manage it, with Sam’s guidance,” Robin replied.

Hamfast nodded, then looked sternly at Sam. “If you start feeling even the slightest bit light-headed, I want you to come home straightaway. Tom, Robin, I’m counting on you to keep an eye on him. May, Goldie, you may as well stay here and get some chores done. Jolly, Rosie-dear, you can stay or go, but if you stay, you’re working.”

So the lasses brought out a load of laundry to wash and press while the lads made their way up the Hill to Bag End. They walked into the garden, everyone looking around in interest. Many long years had passed since the last time Tom, Jolly or Robin had been inside the garden. Even after the abuse of the storm, it was still a sight to behold. Sam was pleasantly surprised by how much his father had been able to accomplish in just a few hours and quickly set about finding tasks for everyone to do.

They weren’t there long before company arrived. Sam was explaining to Robin how to clear a flowerbed and turn the soil for planting when a knock sounded upon the gate. Sam was up and running a moment later. He came to the gate only to see the locksmith there standing in the lane. He let the locksmith in and together, they inspected the round green door of Bag End as Sam explained its odd behavior over the last week.

“Can you fix it?” he asked as the locksmith finished his inspection.

The locksmith shook his head and frowned. “There’s nothing to fix, Sam, as far as I can see. You don’t have a ghost do you?”

Sam grinned. “Only the made-up kind.”

“That’s the best kind to have,” the locksmith said with a laugh, “but that still leaves us without a clue to go by. I can put in a new lock and see how that works for you, but that’d be a waste of effort in my opinion. Of course, it’s not my opinion as counts. You just tell me what Mr. Baggins would prefer, and I’ll do it.”

Sam shook his head, also at a loss. “I don’t see how it would do any good myself either, and Mr. Frodo’s not home at the moment to ask. Best to leave it till he gets back I suppose. If it continues, I’m sure he’ll be calling on you for your services.”

“I could go ahead and reset the lock for you while I’m here, unless you have a key.”

“I don’t,” Sam said and nodded. “That sounds like the best plan.”

So the locksmith took out his tools and slipped the lock into place from the outside, ‘working backwards’ as he called it. When he finished, he rattled the doorknob experimentally and the lock stayed in place as it ought. “Easy as pie,” he stated, then waved off any fee and headed back to the lane.

Sam followed him to the gate and waved him off before returning to work. With everyone pitching in, he was able to get the last of the flowerbeds turned, as well as reset the reading bench in its rightful location under the elm tree. They raked up the last of the debris from the lawn and out from under the shrubs, then started plucking the weeds that were growing in full force. 

They chatted easily amongst themselves, and the friends couldn’t help but notice that Sam was not really listening. At least, not to them. He was easily distracted throughout the afternoon, his ear tuned for any sound of someone coming up the lane, and his eyes constantly wandered to the gate, which he kept in his sight at all times.

At last, Robin and the Cottons had to go. The sun was beginning its final descent and twilight would soon be upon them. They had to be back in Bywater soon and could not stay any longer. They helped Sam to clean up and walked with him back to his hole. Rosie was keeping watch for them and came out as soon as they reached the gate. She pecked Sam on the cheek, then climbed into the cart with her brothers. Robin took the reins again and started them off.

“See you tomorrow Sam!” the Cottons called.

“I’ll let you know if I hear anything new,” Robin promised. He would have to get back to his own work tomorrow or risk getting lectured by his captain. 

Sam walked into his smial with a heavy heart but he didn’t have long to brood. As soon as he was through the door, May was escorting him to the kitchen table. She at least still seemed convinced that Sam needed to be kept in food and served him three full servings until Sam could eat no more. Marigold offered him dessert out of courtesy but wasn’t surprised when he refused it. 

Throughout the meal, Sam kept looking out the kitchen window every few minutes, a fact that Hamfast noted, along with Sam’s poorly-concealed worry. When supper was over, he asked for a moment alone with his son and the lasses left for the parlor.

“Mr. Baggins is more than capable of taking care of himself, Sam,” Hamfast said, jumping straight to the point as he gathered pots and dishes for washing.

“But Robin said he wasn’t feeling well. What if he shows up tonight? He may need someone to care for him.”

“Then he shows up tonight and he’ll be there in the morning,” Hamfast reasoned. “If he’s not well, you can go fetch him a healer then. There’s no point in you camping outside of Bag End on a ‘what if’. You’ll wind up ill yourself.”

“What if he shows up sometime tomorrow? The storm could have held him up. I should be there when he gets back.”

“You will do no such thing,” Hamfast said. “You promised your cousins you would help them and that comes first. Mr. Baggins will understand that well enough. I’ll keep my eye out on the Road during the day. If I see him, I’ll go up and see if he’s needing anything straightaway.” 

Hamfast decided not to mention the possibility that Mr. Baggins may not even be heading this way at all. If Sam needed that hope to keep him functioning, then Hamfast would indulge him for the time being. Once it appeared Mr. Baggins would not be turning up, well, then he’ll deal with that problem when it came.

Sam thanked his father and dismissed himself from the table to wash up and go to bed early. He would not admit it to the others, but he was still tired and growing more weary by the moment. It didn’t help that the ‘what ifs’ were starting to plague him again.  

Mr. Frodo had not shown up and Sam wondered what that meant. The possibilities were endless and each one more horrible and dreadful than the last. The only thing that kept the crushing and befuddling darkness at bay was the hope that Mr. Frodo was making his way here with each passing hour. Sam knew he wouldn’t be able to spend a whole day away from Bag End tomorrow. He didn’t want Mr. Frodo returning to an empty smial, not if he wasn’t well. Not ever. 

Sam nodded to himself, his mind made up. While he knew his father was correct about keeping true to his word with the Cottons, he also had a responsibility to Mr. Frodo and as far as he was concerned, Mr. Frodo came first. But Sam couldn’t just take off either. He would have to think of a way of leaving early tomorrow that wouldn’t cause alarm on the Cottons’ part or disapproval on his father’s. 

What if Mr. Frodo didn’t show up tomorrow, or the day after that? Sam tried to keep himself from panicking, told himself that surely, nothing truly bad could have befallen his master. ‘If he doesn’t show up here, that means they’d have found him in Buckland is all,’ he thought sensibly to himself and hoped he was correct.




To be continued…





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