Chapter 6 - Torn in Two

Rethe 27

Bag End’s front door was still locked the next morning, and Sam knew from that alone that Mr. Frodo had not returned, for the door was always open when his master was at home. ‘Well, he’ll be back by tonight for certain, even if the rain held him up,’ Sam thought and went to the toolshed to pull out the long shears to cut the grass. 

As he raked up the grass clippings and added them to the compost piles, he made a mental list of the flowers that needed replanting and where. He had an idea of how to leave the Cottons early today, and only hoped he didn’t give away his true intentions when he approached Tolman.

He stayed at Bag End as long as he dared, listening always for the sound of footsteps upon the road or the creak of the gate swinging open, and hearing neither. By the time he pulled himself away from the garden and returned to his own home, his sisters were preparing to leave and Hamfast was washing the dishes. A warm plate was left on the table for him and Sam had to eat quickly to be ready to leave with his sisters.

Hamfast saw them off from the gate. He would not be working today for his joints were too sore, but he would be ‘puttering about’ his own garden. Then he planned to go to The Ivy Bush to take some ale with Daddy Twofoot. He was interested to see how fast the rumor had spread from Bywater about Mr. Frodo’s disappearance. He also wanted to curtail any whisperings about “Mad Baggins” as far as he could help it.

Sam went immediately to work when they reached the Cotton’s. He greeted everyone with a smile and a wave. They were pleased to see him back to his normal, cheerful self and they greeted him happily in return.

Sam noticed right away that the last of the tree was gone. Nick explained that after he and the others had left, they had finished sawing the last of the tree to nil. Shortly after that, the lumber for the barn wall had been delivered and the delivery had taken up the rest of the evening. Sam was about to ask why that was, but Nick explained before he could open his mouth to speak. “I’m sorry, Sam, but Furzy let it out about your master. I’m sure everyone in town knows by now.”

“Which means they’ll know in Hobbiton by evening if they don’t already,” Finch put in.

“You better prepare yourself,” Jolly said with a degree of seriousness uncommon for him. “You’re going to be the center of much attention over the next few days. Everyone’s going to want stories of your master.”

“They’re going to be sorely disappointed,” Sam replied shortly and said no more, for at that moment, Tolman gave the order to begin their daily task and the chatter turned to work.

Now that the tree was out of the way, they turned their attention to repairing the barn wall and damaged stalls. A weakened support beam needed replacing, as did half of the wall planks, the door and its frame. One stall needed to be completely rebuilt and another two needed structural work. With all of them working together, both in and outside the barn, Tolman hoped to have the wall completed by the end of the day. Then they would have to figure out what to do with the steadily-growing pile of firewood currently being stored in the ruined stalls, for once the barn was repaired, Tolman wanted to move his ponies out of his brother’s stables and back into his own.

Their first job was to add temporary support beams for the hayloft so they could replace the old one. Once the beams were in place, they set to work tearing down the planks that had been damaged or splintered by the impact of the tree. These then where broken into smaller pieces and added to the scrap piles. After this was finished, they began to carry the lumber to the barn. 

Carl Hornbeam had taken Tolman’s order to his father a few nights earlier and the lumber was already cut to the appropriate sizes. This would save them considerable time, but even given that, they still needed to make sure the beams would fit as well as they were meant to. As it turned out, a couple of the beams did need some sawing and shaving and they fixed those before they did anything else.

Elevenses was served as they were finishing the prep work, so they took a break to eat. Sam chose this moment to approach Farmer Cotton. “Uncle Tom, I was wondering if I might speak with you privately?” he asked. He was fidgeting nervously with a shirt button and trying to appear composed at the same time.

Tolman quirked an eyebrow and nodded. “Certainly Sam. Come inside.” 

He led Sam through the kitchen to the parlor and they stood facing each other. Tolman had been watching Sam closely all morning and had been relieved up to this moment that Sam had at last got over his shock from yesterday. Looking at him now, however, Tolman was not so certain Sam was completely out of the woods yet and thought perhaps he was not feeling as well as he was letting on. “Now what’s the matter, lad?” Tolman asked with concern.

Sam forced himself to stop fidgeting, aware of the farmer’s scrutiny. He stood up straight and asked calmly, “I was wondering, sir, if you didn’t mind, if I could leave early today, at teatime?”

“Why would you be needing to do that?” Tolman asked.

“Well, you see, sir, I’ve been trying to get Bag End to straights when I can,” Sam explained. “I’ve been working there mornings and evenings since the storm. I’ve got nearly everything done as needs it now, thanks in large part to your sons helping me yesterday. But I still have the planting to do, see, and I have to get the plants and whatnot ordered. Only, I can’t order them while I’m here. So I was wondering if I could leave early, just for today.”

‘There, that sounded casual enough,’ Sam thought guiltily to himself. That he wasn’t lying did not appease him. He knew he could easily enough ask his father to put the flower order in for him, but he wanted to leave. He wanted to get up to Bag End as soon as time would allow to see if his master had returned yet.

Tolman nodded, considering. “I suppose we could do without you for another afternoon, though we’ll miss your help. But stay for tea by all means. Rosie made some of that seed cake you like so much, and she’ll be sorely disappointed if you miss it.”

Sam nodded gratefully and let out a breath he did not know he was holding. “Thank you, Old Tom. I’ll make up for it, you have my word,” he promised, then turned and left the room, not realizing that Tolman watched after him with troubled eyes.

After elevenses, they set to work making the repairs. The younger lads and a few of the fellows worked on the stables while everyone else concentrated on the wall. With the number of experienced hands available to do the work, the job went quickly and steadily. One group worked on staining the wall planks while another did the heavy work. They put the new support beam in place, then replaced a splintered crossbeam. After constructing a new doorframe, they raised this into place and tested the structure as it stood so far. It was perfectly sound and solid. Now it was just a matter of nailing the new planks to the beams to make the wall, and hanging the new door into place.

Not until they stopped for luncheon was Sam able to tell his friends he would be leaving early. At first they were concerned, but once he managed to convince them he was fine and only leaving to get some of his own work done, they quickly relaxed. Tom was disappointed though that he would not have a partner to chop firewood with. 

“How am I supposed to show off to Goldie without you to lose to me?” he asked, pretending to be put off.

“I have faith in you Tom. You’ll find a way,” Sam teased, causing the others to laugh in turn. 

Tom just grinned, taking the teasing with ease. He looked up and caught a glimpse of Marigold through the kitchen window and nodded. He would most definitely find a way.

After tea, Sam waved good-bye to everyone and told his sisters he would be home later. As he walked through town, he greeted everyone cheerfully but was mindful of Jolly’s warning and did not slow or linger to talk. He could see the eager expressions on folk’s faces when they spotted him and knew without having to look that their heads were coming together to speak in whispers after he passed. He ignored it as best he could and put on a face as though nothing was wrong or out of sorts.

He relaxed once he was on the Bywater Road, where there was less traffic. He soon found this a mistake for the Road brought with it another problem. Folk traveling from Bywater to Hobbiton would slow down to offer him a ride, and he had difficulty turning them down. Finally, he left the Road altogether and traveled the rest of the way through the open fields. ‘No wonder Mr. Frodo fancies open land when he travels, if everyone is so pushy and nosy as that,’ Sam thought bemusedly.

When he reached Hobbiton, he found that Finch had been correct in his suspicions. Still, the whispering was not as rabid as in Bywater, and Sam found it easier to keep to his own business. These hobbits were his neighbors and they knew him well. As such, many of them knew better than to question him about his master; Sam was not a servant who gossiped. On the other hand, many hobbits also felt he owed them his confidence for the friendship they shared.

“Sam,” called Farmer Goodheart as Sam walked past his stall, “what’s this I keep hearing about Mr. Baggins? They say he cracked like his uncle and flew off into the Blue.”

“You heard wrong. He’ll be back, if he’s not back already,” came Sam’s short reply as he continued by without stopping.

With great relief he reached the nursery. The owner was kind and knew both him and Mr. Frodo well. She was always respectful to the Master of the Hill and Sam knew she would hold her tongue on any questions she may have.

“Good afternoon Flora,” Sam greeted as he looked around the shaded nursery. There were only a few other shoppers at the moment, and they thankfully stayed near the other side of the shop, looking at the potted shrubbery.

“Good afternoon Sam,” Flora greeted cheerfully. “I thought you were over at the Cotton’s all this week.”

“Aye, I am, but I’m needing to get some flowers ready for planting up at Bag End,” Sam explained. “It’s hard to do that after you close shop.”

Flora nodded again. Her hands at the moment were wrist deep in soil, so she pointed with her chin. “Have a look round, then. I just put out some orchids. They bloomed just last night. Those lilies there sprouted a few weeks ago and will be ready for planting soon, and there’s some honeysuckle already growing on a trellis. But I reckon you know best what Mr. Frodo would like.”

Sam smiled and picked up a crate from the stack near the door. He walked up and down the aisles of fragrant and colorful blossoms and felt calmness return to him for the first time since yesterday afternoon. If he let himself, he could spend hours in this nursery, just looking at all the flowers and planning the garden. He had work to do though, so he went through the list in his head as he fingered the petals and leaves of the various flowers. He wanted everything to be as close to its previous appearance as he could manage it.

Figuring he would need five crates in all, he packed them according to where he would put the different flowers in the gardens. So, front garden first. For that he needed bearded iris, primrose, carnations and sunflowers. Next came the side garden, with more carnations, some daisies and tulips, a rainbow of flowers there. Then came the reading garden near Mr. Frodo’s bench. In this crate went gardenias, snapdragons, dahlias and lavender. He grabbed a vine of honeysuckle at the last moment, thinking Mr. Frodo would like to sit under the elm and watch the hummingbirds when his eyes tired of reading. Finally, daffodils, violets and roses for the beds lining the walk paths went into the last two crates.

“This should do the job,” Sam said as he placed the last crate on the counter. “Can you deliver them today? I’d like to get started as soon as I can.”

“I’ll have my son bring them up shortly,” Flora said as she added the last crate to a cart loaded with other purchases. “This’ll go on Mr. Frodo’s account?” Sam nodded silently. “I do hope he turns up soon,” she added quietly and patted his hand sympathetically. 

“He’ll turn up,” Sam said with a grateful smile. Then, bracing himself for the curious on-lookers outside, he said good-bye and stepped out the nursery gates onto the lane.

“Sam!” He heard his name being called from every direction. At this rate, it would be a miracle indeed if he reached Bag End without being stopped. He waved at those who called him and greeted them pleasantly before hurrying out of town and over the bridge.

When he reached Bag End, he bee-lined for the door and knocked. When no answer came, he turned the knob and again found it locked. His heart sank and he slumped down to sit on the top step.

Why hasn’t Mr. Frodo returned yet? He reminded himself that the storm had lasted more than a day and if his master had waited it out somewhere, then that would explain the delay. ‘Still doesn’t explain why he would leave in the first place though,’ he thought uneasily, remembering Robin’s words about Mr. Frodo acting out of sorts. 

What if his master still didn’t turn up tonight? How long would it be until they heard news from Buckland of the search? Robin said they started the search the day before yesterday, and it would take up to four days to complete and return to Brandy Hall. That would be tomorrow. ‘Then another two days at least for word to reach here,’ he thought miserably, not sure at all he would be able to wait that long to discover his master’s fate. What if Mr. Frodo was injured? Too injured to return home right away? What if he was ill? How could he not be after being out in the storm all day and night? What if…

Sam grunted impatiently and shook his head. “Stop playing ‘What If?’ Sam Gamgee. It does no good and you’ll drive yourself to worry,” he told himself firmly, but it did no good. The questions, worries and concerns continued to plague him until the sound of a squeaky cart wheel shook him from his thoughts. 

He looked up to see Flora’s son at the gate and waved down to beckon the lad in. Then Sam got up to help with the crates and tell the lad where he wanted them. The lad followed him obediently, and though he cast many curious glances at the smial, he did not pry. He did wish Sam a good evening, and Sam tipped him generously for his courtesy.

Once the lad was gone, Sam got to work. The beds were already filled with compost and rich soil, so all he had to do was dig. He filled a large kettle with water from the well, for he would need to water the flowers as soon as they were planted to encourage them to take root. The front garden came first and would take him the rest of the sunlight hours to plant. Thankful to have something to occupy his mind, he set to work, arranging the flowers in a way he knew would please his master.

He worked long into the night, not stopping for food or drink. After he finished planting the front garden, he began trimming the shrubs at the back of the garden, barely registering the sunset that dazzled the sky with brilliant hues of yellow and pink. Dinner and supper passed, and the stars were twinkling brightly before he lifted his face to the sky. 

Though he knew he had to, he was reluctant to leave, fearing that as soon as he did, his master would return. Only when the moon rose over the horizon did Sam force himself to put away his tools. He washed up at the well and headed down the Hill to Number Three, Bagshot Row.

A strange sight greeted him there. A cart overstuffed with firewood sat in the Row outside his home, and a pony was grazing in the field across the lane. ‘So, that’s what Old Tom finally decided to do with all that firewood? Divvy it up and hand it out,’ he thought, a small smile forming on his lips. Well, they should not want for wood again for a good long while.

Sam entered the darkened smial soundlessly and gently closed the door. He saw a plate sitting on the stove for him and was just sitting down to eat when Hamfast entered the kitchen with candle in hand. He did not look pleased to see his son. 

Sam put down his fork and waited for the inevitable. His father sat down across from him and set the candle between them. It was a small flame and barely lit the table, casting everything into smoky shadow. Even in the dim light, Sam could see the conflicting emotions on his father’s face; this was going to be a long lecture.

Hamfast did not exactly have a lecture in mind. He looked at his son and sighed. “Don’t you see lad? This is what I wanted to protect you from. Mr. Frodo’s a model gentlehobbit and a proper fellow, but he’s still Mr. Bilbo’s heir. Just as Mr. Bilbo took off into the Blue, I figured one day Mr. Frodo would too and you’d be left behind. Now, it could be that he’ll turn up soon enough and I hope to the stars above that he does, but you need to prepare yourself for the fact that he may truly be gone. If that’s the case, you’re going to have to get yourself to town once you’re finished at the Cottons and see if you can find any other assignments. Shouldn’t be hard, everyone knows you’re the best gardener in these parts and they’ll be happy to have you. Mind, they won’t be able to pay as handsome a stipend as Mr. Frodo does, and things’ll be tight round here for a while but we’ll manage just as we’ve always done.”

He stood up and shuffled out of the kitchen, leaving the candle on the table. He stopped in the doorway and said over his shoulder, “Tom’s here waiting to speak with you, so finish up your supper. And I don’t want to hear again about you leaving your post early, for whatever reason.” With that he returned to his room, closing the door quietly behind him.

Sam sat in troubled contemplation alone in the candlelight. He watched the tiny flame dance, suddenly no longer hungry or even aware of the food before him as he tried to make sense of his father’s words. They painted a bleak picture of a future Sam did not want to think about. Mr. Frodo gone for good, never to return, just like old Mr. Bilbo. Sam remembered how upset his father had been when he found out Mr. Bilbo had left the Shire behind for the Road and adventure. Did Sam now face that same fate?

‘But Mr. Frodo wouldn’t just take off like that,’ Sam insisted to himself. ‘He had plans for when he returned and he said to me, “I’ll be back in two week’s time” and told me to get out of the garden for a bit.’ 

“He’ll be back,” he told himself again, even as a nagging seed of doubt planted itself in his heart. 

He ate his food and washed the plate and fork. He put these away and picked up the candle to take to his room. There he found Tom, sleeping on the covers in the middle of the large bed. Sam tiptoed over to the bedside and placed the candle on the nightstand. He reached over and gently shook his friend, who woke immediately and yawned. 

“Lor’ bless me Sam, but I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer. How ever did you come by such a comfortable bed?” he asked.

Sam smiled. “The hard way,” he answered and sat next to his friend. “By waiting out two older brothers who liked to hog the sheets. What are you doing here?”

Tom smiled now and pointed with his thumb in the general direction of the front door. “Had to bring the firewood and Gaffer told me to wait until you got back to unload it. Besides, someone had to bring your sisters home.”

“Sister, you mean. Is this how you decided to impress Goldie then?”

Tom shook his head. “Oh, that. That was easy enough. I just chopped both your share of the wood and mine – without breaking a sweat. She was mightily impressed.”

Sam laughed and shook his head. “That a fact?”

“It is,” Tom replied, then grew serious. “Is he back yet?”

Sam shook his head. “No,” he replied simply. He reached over, picked up the candle and lit the oil lamp sitting on the nightstand. “Come on, you Tom-fool. Let’s get that firewood unloaded, then you best just stay here tonight. That way, you can impress Goldie with your cooking in the morning.”

Tom grinned. “I do make some rather delicious mushroom omelets if I do say so myself.”

“Aye, you do,” Sam agreed, “say so yourself, that is.”

Tom guffawed and gently nudged Sam on the arm, then took the lamp from his hand.

They went outside and began the enormous task of unloading the wood. Some they took directly inside, but the vast majority of it they piled outside the front door or behind the tool shed in giant mounds until there was no more room to put it. The rest they divided between Sam’s neighbors, piling the wood just inside their gates. By the time they finished, both lads were ready to fall asleep where they stood. 

Rethe 28

Tom woke Sam early in the morning. He was so eager to start cooking that Sam couldn’t help but laugh. Of course, this also meant he would have to stay and help his friend find his way around the kitchen. He climbed out of bed and washed quickly at the basin, then went with Tom to the kitchen to start breakfast. 

They prepared the meal in companionable silence. Sam settled on chopping the vegetables and mixing the eggs, letting Tom do the actual cooking. He retrieved some bread and milk from the pantry, and set the table as Tom heated the omelets to a light golden brown.

The smell of the food soon woke the others in the house. Hamfast came to the table first, pleased to see Tom still there and making sure his son spent a normal breakfast at home. A few minutes later, May and Marigold came to the table, surprised to find breakfast already prepared and waiting for them. May said good morning as she poured herself some milk. Marigold followed her lead but with a noticeable flush to her cheeks as she greeted Tom. 

Sam insisted his sisters sit down and allow themselves to be waited on for a change. He handed out slices of the bread, warmed and buttered, and slices of apples and pears. Tom served everyone a steaming omelet and poured them cups of sweetened tea. Once everyone was served, the lads sat down to their own plates.

“Tom did all the cooking himself, so if it’s bad you can’t blame me,” Sam said with a wink.

Everyone dug in and tasted the food prepared for them. Sam was impressed. He rarely had opportunity to taste anything his friend cooked and when he did it was usually something simple. This was delicious and he nodded his head approvingly. 

“Oh Tom, this is almost as good as Sam’s,” May exclaimed.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Sam said with a teasing smile.

“I would,” Marigold said. “This is wonderful Tom.”

“Thank you Goldie,” Tom said. “I’m glad you like it.” He quickly took a large bite of his own omelet to hide the wide grin threatening to split his face in two.

Hamfast only grunted his satisfaction between bites, laughing softly at Tom’s and Marigold’s obvious flirtations. So his youngest daughter has found a suitor. He shook his head, amazed and saddened at how quickly his children kept insisting on growing up. 

Since they ate early and had the pony trap to take them all to Bywater, Sam had plenty of time after the meal to go up the Hill and get some more planting done. Tom went with him and volunteered to get everything out of the tool shed they would need as Sam checked the door. It was still locked. He tried to play off his despair when he joined Tom in the small side garden, but his friend quickly noticed his disappointment.

“Oh don’t worry, Sam,” Tom tried to cheer up his friend. “Two more days and word’ll be coming from Buckland that your master is just fine.”

Sam nodded in agreement, even as the unease grew in the pit of his stomach. As much as he wanted to convince himself that his master was bound to turn up somewhere, he kept coming back to the alarming manner in which Mr. Frodo had reportedly disappeared. What could upset his master so much that he would run into a storm? He knew it was too soon to hope for word from Brandy Hall, but he decided to seek out Robin at some point today if he could.

With Tom’s help, Sam fiddled with the potted flowers, placing them here and there until he was satisfied with the arrangement. Once they knew where the flowers would go, they made quick work planting the blossoms. Tom was not as efficient with a trowel as Sam was and tended to be slower, but he knew what to do and required no instructions. 

Once the flowers were in their beds and watered, Sam studied the sky and figured they had time to plant the honeysuckle vine as well. They went to the reading garden and began looking for the best place to plant the vine. They argued over this spot and that spot, and Tom suggested taking the vine off the trellis and letting it grow as ground-cover. Sam disliked this idea and finally decided to plant the vine behind the reading bench, near a steep slope in the hill. With this decided, they had just enough time to dig a hole deep enough to support the trellis and cover all the roots. They planted the vine, watering as they packed the soil tight around the plant. 

Once finished, they washed quickly at the well, then headed down the Hill. They would have to leave for Bywater as soon as they returned. However, May and Marigold had different ideas. They had some loads of laundry to deliver and took advantage of the cart while they had it. Sam helped them load their bundles onto the cart while Hamfast pulled Tom inside the smial for a private word or two. 

They left at last and Tom steered them through the roads and lanes so the lasses could make their deliveries. Sam was not pleased about the delay. He found the same attention he had received yesterday and had difficulty keeping his master out of casual conversations with passing hobbits as his sisters were inside speaking with their mistresses. Thankfully, they kept their visits short, and Tom was there to steer conversations onto other topics while they waited on the lasses. 

Finally, they were on the Road and away from prying eyes. Even starting late, they arrived at the same time they normally did, thanks to the sturdy pony. The lasses headed into the house as Tom and Sam put the cart away and led the pony into her brand new stall. Sam was surprised to turn around and see so much firewood still laying against the repaired wall. The pile was half as long as the wall itself and came nearly to his waist. Half of it was made up of logs yet to be chopped.

He turned and gaped at Tom, who simply shrugged. “Just let us know when you need more wood,” he said as they walked out the door and down to the lower fields.

The last of the water had drained away at last, and the beasts had been returned just in time to help pull up the dying grain. Tolman was relieved that he had not lost as many crops as he initially feared. Only the crops closest to The Water that were submerged the longest had failed, just over an acre all together. He would have to keep his eye on the acre next to this if he was not to lose those crops as well, but for now, he need only worry about reaping the spoiled grain and reseeding the plot for a new yield.

Even with the ponies to help, it was hard work. The day passed quickly, and before everyone knew it, teatime had arrived. They left the lower fields for the last time that day and went to the house. Sam noticed immediately that the remainder of the logs had been piled onto two large carts to take into town. He stopped and looked at the carts with a comically put-off expression.

“Now come on Tom,” he said. “You have to give me a chance to beat you at the wood-chopping contest.”

Tom laughed and draped an arm around his friend’s shoulders. “You should have thought of that before you left yesterday. I guess I’ll have to suffer with everyone knowing I’m better than you, as Pa wants this wood gone. We’ve enough here already to last us till the king comes back. We’re to take this into town and hand it out free to those as wants it.”

Sam perked up at this. He would be able to look for Robin without leaving his post.

After tea, he and Tom took one cart, Jolly and Finch the other. They rode into town to The Green Dragon and began asking who needed firewood. Before long, the word was out and hobbits were coming with wheelbarrows and small carts of their own to haul the wood away. Many of the hobbits tried to get word of Mr. Baggins while they were at it, but none of them volunteered any information.

When the second cart was a quarter of the way distributed, Sam spotted Robin leaving the inn’s stables. He hopped down from the cart and ran after the young shirriff. “Robin!” he shouted to get his friend’s attention.

Robin turned around, spotted Sam and waved. He waited for Sam to catch him before speaking. “You’re looking better,” he said. “Are you hungry? I was just going in for dinner.”

Sam shook his head and came right out with it. “Have you heard anything yet?”

Robin shook his head apologetically. “Folk have been looking as they go about their business but it’s fairly certain Mr. Baggins didn’t come this way at all. We got word from the bounders that he never crossed the bridge and we know for a fact that he didn’t take the ferry as that’s how Mr. Brandybuck crossed the River. That means he’s either in Buckland or he’s…”

“Left the Shire,” Sam finished. He hung his head and muttered what sounded suspiciously like “This is all my fault.”

“You keep saying that,” Robin replied. “This isn’t your fault. No one could have thought something like this would happen like it did.”

“I should have known,” Sam insisted. He looked suddenly exhausted, as though he had not slept in days. “I should have known if I was paying more attention. Something was bothering him and I didn’t know it. It would have been something that’s been building up for a while for him to leave the way he did, and I didn’t see it.”

“You still couldn’t have stopped this,” Robin tried to reason. Sam’s words were similar to the ones he had used when he first learned the news, and Robin now suspected that Sam had been speaking of his own lack of vigilance even then. “Mr. Baggins was out of your care when this happened. You couldn’t have done anything even if you did know something was wrong. It’s not as though you had a choice to stay or go.”

“But I did!” Sam exclaimed, truly distressed now. “I did have a choice. He said to me ‘You’re going to have to come to Buckland one of these days, Sam’ meaning he wanted me to go but didn’t want to ask outright so I wouldn’t feel obligated. And I made excuses not to go, just because I was afraid to leave home and be surrounded by so many important folk. If I had gone, then I would have been there to take care of him and he wouldn’t have been able to sneak off without anyone noticing.” He hid his face in his hands, too ashamed to look as his friend any longer. 

“Sam,” Robin said helplessly. He had never seen Sam distressed like this before. At least in his shock of the day before, Sam had been thinking clearly and practically. “You couldn’t have known, not if Mr. Baggins didn’t want you to.”

“I should have known anyway. I should have gone,” Sam mumbled into his hands. Then a wild thought occurred to him and he seized upon it desperately. He looked at Robin with determination. “I’ll go now,” he said. “I’ll go look for Mr. Frodo.”

Robin stared at him in disbelief and shook his head. “Sam, be practical about this. The search is probably already over, which means Mr. Baggins is most likely relating his adventure to everyone in Brandy Hall as will listen to it. In two days, we’ll get word that all is well.”

“And if they don’t find him?” Sam pressed. “If he’s left the Shire? What then?”

Robin shrugged sympathetically. “Then nothing. He’ll be a week out of the Shire by then and who knows where in the Wild. How would you have any hope of finding him? You’d get lost on your way to Buckland.”

“You can come with me,” Sam replied earnestly.

“What? No,” Robin replied emphatically. “I can’t leave my post. I’ll get dismissed. This is my first job. I can’t afford that and neither can my family. And neither can yours. You can’t just leave your post.”

“Mr. Frodo is my post,” Sam argued, ignoring the truth of Robin’s words. “I have to find him.”

“Bag End is your post,” Robin corrected. “And tell me, where are you going to look?”

Sam shrugged, helpless and defeated. “I don’t know. Bree maybe? He’d have to stop and get supplies wouldn’t he, if he left Brandy Hall all of a sudden.”

“Bree? Sam, the folk in Buckland are odd enough. Who’s to say what you’d find in a town half run over by Men. Besides, we’re assuming the worst and I’m sure in the end it will be for naught,” Robin reassured calmly. “Your Frodo is fine and he’ll be home before you know it. The more you obsess over this, the longer it’s going to seem. Just go home and go about your day like normal. I’ll find you with the good news as soon as I hear it.”

Sam nodded cheerlessly and returned to the carts, his shoulders slumped, feeling no better than he had that morning. It was going to be a long two days.

To be continued…