Last Night in Hobbiton

Sam is 11, Halfred 22

Wedmath 1391 SR

Sam watched from the doorway as Halfred went through his packing one last time. The last few years, Halfred had spent half the year in Little Smithy at his apprenticeship and the other half at home. They had all been telling Sam that eventually Halfred would go away for good, move to the Northfarthing to stay there. Sam knew enough to believe them; after all, Hamson had gone to live in Tighfield and they usually only saw him now during the Free Fair. Still, seeing the boxes packed with Fred’s things, and the bag on the bed stuffed with his clothes and other things he would need during his journey north, it somehow seemed real now. Fred was really going to leave. He really wasn’t coming back. 

Fred glanced at Sam and smiled. “Chin up, little brother,” he said with a grin. “It’s not like you’ll never see me again.”

“You’ll come to the Free Fair?” Sam asked, stepping into the room. He sat on their bed and peered into the bag. The storage bins underneath their bed were nearly empty now, holding only Sam’s bit of clothes and his study things from Mr. Bilbo’s lessons. 

“Well, no,” Fred said. “Little Smithy is a fair ride from Michel Delving, and they have their own fair up there for the Northfarthing. But we’ll see each other. There’ll be visits.”

“You’ll still come for Yule, though?” Sam asked. 

“I’m a senior apprentice now,” Fred said. “I won’t be able to get away as often, but I’ll see what can be done about Yule.” He sat next to Sam and closed the bag. He dumped it unceremoniously onto the floor. He pulled a clay pipe from his pants pocket and handed it to Sam.

“I’m too young for a pipe,” Sam said, taking it anyway. 

“It’s not for smoking, least not yet anyway,” Halfred said. He draped an arm around Sam’s shoulders and jostled him gently. “It’s so you won’t forget your big brother.”

“I’d not do that!” Sam said.

“I know it, Sammy,” Fred said and sighed. “I’m just feeling sentimental, I suppose.”

“What’s that?”

“That’s when you feel like remembering things, and they make you happy but a little sad too,” Fred said. He held Sam’s gaze, turning serious. “You’ve got to be the big lad of the smial now, Sammy. It’s just you and Gaffer here to take care of the lasses. They’re going to be depending on you. That means as you’ll have to give up some things to see to the family. Remember, it’s family first and always.”

“You won’t have a family in Little Smithy,” Sam said sadly, clutching the pipe.

“Sure I will. Hale will be there, and there’s lots of our Gamwich kin there too,” Fred said. 

Sam felt his brother’s arm tighten at mention of Hale and wondered about it. Hale Goodchild was their second cousin on their mother’s side. He was older than Fred by about five years and had been taking his apprenticeship with their uncle Andwise in Tighfield until Fred announced his decision to take a position in Little Smithy at one of the tile shops there. It wasn’t unheard of for a lad to change apprenticeships, but Hale had excelled in the art of rope-making and seemed to enjoy it immensely, so it had come as a surprise to all when he decided to follow Fred up north. 

“Don’t you like Hale?” Sam asked. “I thought as you were best mates.”

Fred smiled. “We are. We even managed to talk our master into letting us room together. Hale figures if we save as much of our wages as we can, we’ll have enough to rent a little smial after our apprenticeships are up. By the time mine’s done, he’ll be off his contract and able to find work of his own. It’ll be hard but we’ll manage. We may have to trade jobs for furniture and other such things to start, but we’ll not starve. Tile a hallway, get a chair and a chicken, that sort of thing. He’s got it all worked out.”

“You need more’n chairs,” Sam said, frowning. “You can’t sleep on chairs.”

Halfred laughed. “No, not comfortably anyhow. We’ll make do, and we’ll get all as we’re needing eventually.”

Sam put the pipe to his nose and breathed deep. The strong scent of old pipeweed and ashes wafted up his nose, burning his sinuses. He sneezed and took another, more cautious, whiff. Starburst leaf and apples, with a hint of chamomile. Sam leaned into his brother’s side and could smell the same scent on his clothes, leftover from his pipe outside with their father. Hamfast had some last-minute advice and orders for Fred, and so they had taken their evening smoke during a short stroll to the Water and back. They had both been silent since returning, but the tension that had been there between them over the last several weeks was gone. 

“Gaffer doesn’t like Hale,” Sam said.

“He likes Hale well enough,” Fred said. Sam felt him shrug. “He just worrits as he’ll be a bad influence on me, is all.”

“Why’s that?” 

“Acause he figures as Hale should be talking me into marrying some day,” Fred said, and Sam didn’t have to look to know his brother’s nose was scrunched up in distaste. Halfred had vowed long ago never to marry, but Sam sometimes wondered if he would only keep to that promise to spite their father. “Naught against the lasses, but I don’t reckon on spending the rest of my life with one. Twenty-two years is enough.”

“You just haven’t met the right lass yet,” Sam said.

“Now you sound like Gaffer,” Halfred said. “He’s not always right ‘bout everything, Sammy. Don’t let him tell you as you can’t do things, or as you belong in one place when your heart tells you better. You understand?”

Sam didn’t answer right away. In all his short years, he had yet to find his father wrong about anything. Their father was the smartest hobbit in the Shire, in Sam’s opinion, and if he said to do something then you’d be wise to listen. Yet he knew that their father and Fred had their disagreements. In fact, it seemed at times as though they disagreed about near everything. 

“Sammy?” Halfred said. 

“I’m awake,” Sam said to buy himself some more time. He licked his lips and nodded. “I’ll remember.”

Halfred grunted, a hint of a laugh underneath. Fred knew well enough what his brother meant. Sammy thought the sun rose and fell by their father, but he didn’t want to disagree with Fred either. This was his compromise. “You’re a smart one, Sammy. Don’t ever let anyone tell you different.”

“Can I come visit you and Hale sometime?” Sam asked. 

“Whenever you want. And I better get letters from you. I’ll find someone as can read them to us,” Fred said.

“I will,” Sam promised. He yawned widely and rubbed his eyes. “I learned a new story today.”

“Did you then?” Fred asked. “Tell me it.”

So Sam started telling him about a dog named Rover who bit a wizard, was turned into a toy and went to the moon. Sam began growing sleepy halfway through Rover’s moon adventure, slurring his words and his periods of silence grew longer with each pause. He finally mumbled a few final words before nodding off completely. 

Halfred pulled the covers over them and stayed up through the night, listening to Sam’s deep breathing and soaking in the image of his room one last time. He would try to visit, as often as he could, but he knew such opportunities would be rare from now on. It could very well be years before he saw Number Three and his family again. In a way, he didn’t want the morning to come. If it were possible, he would will this night never to end and he would stay here in the peaceful dark of their windowless room with only the dim glow of the oil lamp illuminating the bed and wall. Sam stirred and rolled over, away from Fred, who reached out and placed a hand on Sam’s brown head. 

They were still in that position when Daisy woke them the next morning. She smiled bravely when Fred opened his eyes. “Morning, Knucklehead,” she said. “Get him ready. Breakfast’s on. The coach’ll be here in an hour.”

“As you say, Mother Daisy,” Fred said. 

Breakfast was a quiet affair. The coach arrived just as they were putting away the dishes. Marigold ran to their room and emerged a couple of minutes later, as Halfred, Hamfast and the driver were loading the coach. Fred would have company in the carriage until Nobottle at least, a kindly gammer and her two granddaughters. The gammer chatted with Hamfast as the driver made sure the boxes were secured properly. May elbowed Halfred and pointed her chin at the oldest granddaughter, a maid of about nineteen or twenty. 

“Don’t tease,” Fred chided quietly.

“Don’t hurt to be encouraging,” May said and hugged him fiercely. “You behave yourself away up there, and don’t let Hale get you into too much trouble. Two tween lads living on their own. It ain’t proper.”

“Our master’ll be there and the other prentices,” Fred said, hugging her back. “Don’t fret about it none. I’ll try to think of yours and Daisy’s disapproving scowls whenever Hale suggests anything tempting.”

“Here,” Goldie said, handing over a cloth-wrapped gift. “It’s from all of us.”

Fred opened the present. Inside were a pair of handsome files, designed specifically for working with tile. 

“These are neat!” Fred said. He hugged Goldie and Daisy next, then Sam, who still held tight to his pipe. Finally he turned to Hamfast. “So I’m off.”

“Aye,” Hamfast said stoutly. He lingered somewhere between a hug and a handshake, and finally settled on the hug. Fred took a deep breath, both to keep from crying and for one last sniff of his father’s scent: earth, flora and boiled tubers. 

At long last, Hamfast let him go. He didn’t bother reaching up to wipe away the single tear that beaded at the corner of his eye, but instead reached into his pants pocket and brought out another sending-off gift. “You’ll be needing these also,” he said gruffly and pushed the bundle into Fred’s hastily raised hands. 

Fred guessed what it was immediately, but still gasped when he pulled back the cloth to reveal a new set of nippers and a saw. He didn’t dare ask what his father had to pay or trade for them, but quickly hugged him again and dared a brief kiss on his cheek. “Thanks, Dad,” he said and started to cry anyway. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, lad.” They both knew they meant more than just the tools.

Another round of hugs and kisses followed, and finally Fred pocketed his presents and climbed into the carriage. The driver whistled smartly and the ponies started at a trot. Fred waved at his family out the window, gripping his tools just as Sam gripped his pipe. 

“Leaving home?” the elder maid asked as the carriage turned onto the Lane and headed down the Hill.

Fred didn’t answer right away. He would miss his family terribly but Number Three and Bagshot Row were already too small for him. The ache of homesickness would go away eventually as he settled into his new home. When he arrived at Little Smithy, Hale would be there waiting. He smiled, thinking of his cousin. Hale had promised to have his favorite dinner ready for his homecoming, and that was an encouraging thought indeed.

“I’m going home,” he said. He couldn’t wait to get there.

GF 8/11/10