Late July (Afterlithe) 1430 SR

The loud knocking on Bag End's green front door interrupted the conversation at the supper table and Sam hastened to open the door before the visitors knocked a hole in it.

       "Evening, Master Gamgee, zur. We're itinerant agricultural workers looking for work, and we 'eard as 'ow you was 'arvesting your 'ay meadow tomorrow." Pip tugged his forelock in an exaggeratedly servile fashion.

       "That's right, zur. We're desperate for work. We ain't eaten for all of 'alf an hour!" Merry fell on his knees on the doormat.

       "Who is it, Sam?" Frodo wandered into the hall and stopped short when he saw his cousins.

       "Itinerant labourers wanting work hay harvesting," Sam explained.

       Pip joined Merry on the mat. "Please, Mister Baggins, don't send us away. We're 'ard workers and we'll do anything. We're starving" He tried not to grin as Frodo started to laugh.

       "If these two are starving then I'm Evalina Proudfoot!" said Sam drily.

       "Mrs. Proudfoot! How delightful to make your acquaintance at last!" Pip trilled in a high falsetto, leaping to his feet. He advanced on Sam and pumped his hand enthusiastically.

       Frodo sank on to the settle in the passage and laughed until the tears were running down his face. The children emerged to see what was causing Uncle Fro so much hilarity; Frodo-lad giggled at Pip's high-pitched voice, Rosie-lass looked baffled and Ellie, ever her mother's daughter, gave him a look which managed to combine tolerance, resignation and amused pity.

       "Pip, you really are a silly ass!" Frodo managed at last, almost choking.

       Pip bowed. "Thank you, thank you. I aim to please."

       "I suppose we'd better feed them, or our lack of hospitatlity will be all over Hobbiton by the morning. Come in, you two." Frodo wiped his eyes and embraced the two strapping hobbits before him.

       Merry lifted his slender cousin, flung him over his shoulder and carried him through to the kitchen, where Rose was filling two extra plates.

       "Put me down, you silly fathead!"

       "Tsk! That's no way to speak to your favourite cousin." He bounced Frodo and finally settled him on a chair, while the children watched open-mouthed.

       "I thought I was his favourite cousin," Pip objected.

       "No, I'm his favourite cousin."

       "Ahem."

       The two looked up to find Rose watching them, hands on hips, a tea towel hanging from her apron pocket. When she had their attention she took the tea towel and swung it meaningfully. The pair slunk into their seats and gave their full attention to the food.

       "Are you serious about haymaking?" Frodo asked, sliding in next to Merry. Since the return from the Quest and the acquisition of several ponies Sam had planted up a hay meadow to provide food for them during the winter months.

       "Of course we are. It's all hands to the pump when haymaking starts, and if we work at it and the Cotton lads help out we should get it all cut in a day."

       Pip gesticulated with his fork. "And the weather looks set fair for a week or two so it should dry out nicely. Go on, you know you want to see us slaving while you loaf about with a mug of ale and a plate of sandwiches."

       Frodo contrived to look injured. "I said I wanted to help but Sam disapproves. He's worried about me overdoing things - as usual."

       "Haymaking's hard work, me dear, and you haven't done anything like that for a long time."

       "I used to love haymaking - always went to Whitwell to help Paladin for haymaking and later for harvest, and I used to help on the Cotton's farm. I'm strong now, Sam."

       "I don't think you should be troubling yourself. All Rose's brothers are coming, and Will Sandyman said he'd help, and with me and these two hulking louts we should have it all cut by tea-time."

       Frodo humphed and fed the imploring Rufus who was sitting on his feet, tapping his leg to remind his master of his presence.

       "How're Di and Stella?" Rose queried. "Won't be long now for both of them."

       "Uncomfortable in the heat, but thriving. Di says she feels as big as an oliphaunt!" Merry chuckled. "I think they both look even more beautiful, just as you do when you're expecting, Rose dear."

       "Flattery will get you nearly everywhere, Merry. You're after a nice big piece of the raspberry pie, aren't you?"

       Merry batted his eyelashes. "Would I do such a thing?"

       "You? Of course not, my gallant knight of Rohan. Pay compliments in the hope of receiving food?"

       "Do you suppose she's being sarcastic?" Merry asked his cousins.

       "Just slightly," said Frodo.

       Supper over, the children dragged their uncles off to see the garden. Young Fro was anxious to show them his small garden, which was a mass of petunias, pansies, begonias and sweet night-scented stocks. Rose and Sam finished the washing-up and went outside, carrying baby Pip in his wicker basket. His feet almost reached the end now and he would soon be too big to fit in it. He chewed on a carved ring of wood and then began to experiment with putting his toe in his mouth.

       It was a perfect evening, the air full of fragrance and the sky almost luminous with the clear light of high summer. A few small clouds had turned the colour of strawberry juice as the sun slipped down in the west, behind the hills. The birds were still about, catching insects for their young before handing over the duty to the bats who would soon be emerging into the dusk. Below them the fields spread out in a patchwork of different colours from green to gold, each square of the giant quilt separated by hedgerows and the winding threads of lanes and footpaths. Puffs of smoke rose from various chimneys and hung in the still air, and bees continued to bumble in the honeysuckle in their search for nectar.

       "Ah, lovely!" Pippin lit his pipe and settled on the bench. "What a view!"

       "Nowhere quite like Bag End, eh?" Merry plopped down beside him. "Where's Plodly these days?"

       "Yes, where is he? Haven't seen him for ages."

       "He was in the lavender earlier," said Sam, glancing round. He drummed his hand on the bench and called, and eventually there was a rustling in the bushes and Plodly emerged.

       Plodly was a tortoise, the first and only one in the Shire. It was too far north for them to live in the wild, but they were common in Gondor and the lands to the south. Frodo had been fascinated by them after the Quest - how he had wished on the journey that he could have taken Bag End with him, and this strange creature carried his house, rather as a snail did. He liked their comical little faces and their stoic refusal to be deterred from their path. They had a stubborn will which was somehow quite hobbit-like. Aragorn had presented him with one when they left Minas Tirith and Gandalf had supplied much information about the creature's behaviour and dietary needs, some of which had undoubtedly come from Radagast. Lord Elrond even managed to find some information in one of the many books in his library, and he gifted the volume to Frodo on their departure. Every autumn Sam prepared a box and filled it with straw. When Plodly was safely bedded down, the lid was secured, with air-holes, and it was carefully placed in the shed. Sam checked regularly to ensure there were no rats about, and every spring Plodly rose from his strange sleep and trundled out to greet the warmth. He was offered water and fresh food, because Gandalf said it was necessary to flush out the poisons which accumulated during the long months of his hibernation, and he also liked a warm bath. His shell was polished regularly, and he grew slowly but steadily. He was now the size of a tea plate, but would become even bigger and probably live for a hundred years.

       "Plodly!" Pip lifted the tortoise carefully and set him on the table, where he surveyed the company in an amiable manner.

       Frodo darted inside and emerged a few moments later with some chopped salad on a dish. Sam meanwhile had gone out into the lane and grabbed some dandelion leaves from the side of the path. Plodly almost beamed at them and began to tuck in, chomping on the succulent tomato wedges first as they were his favourite. Rufus hopped onto the bench beside Frodo and stood on his hind legs to say hello to his friend. They touched noses briefly. There had been a time when Plodly would hiss at the cat if interrupted while feeding but he soon realised that Rufus had no interest in salad, although they would sometimes share a dish of ground beef.

       Sam went round replenishing water dishes for the various residents and visitors to the garden. He encouraged the hedgehog families because no-one liked slugs and snails less than a gardener and no-one liked them more than a hungry hedgehog. The fruit and vegetable garden could be decimated in a short time and Sam disliked killing things if a more natural way could be found. As dusk crept over the Shire the hedgehogs trotted out to search for their supper.

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       The Cotton lads arrived before first breakfast and although they had undoubtedly eaten at the farm they were not about to refuse anything cooked by their sister. Frodo, Merry and Pip joined them and Sam went on up to the stables, to turn the ponies out into the paddock and muck out the stalls. Will Sandyman would be there to help - the lad had developed a liking for ponies and was a very willing helper. Sam always made sure he received something for his work, although he knew Will would have done it for nothing. Mrs Sandyman was pleased that her younger son was spending time with someone she recognised as a good influence, and had noticed the increasing maturity in the lad's behaviour. The Mayor was a much better role model than her feckless, drunken husband, and he took a genuine interest in all her children, as did Mister Baggins.

       The stables cleaned and laid with fresh straw, Sam and Will walked over to the hay meadow, where the harvesting was already underway. It was already a warm day, and most of the workers were stripped to the waist, although they all had hats on, to prevent heatstroke.. Only one still wore a shirt and Sam watched the figure swinging his scythe with an almost Elven grace, upper body turning in a gesture both strange and familiar.......

       Frodo! The stubborn Baggins had decided to come and work after all. Sam shook his head and walked over, taking care to avoid the swinging blades.

       "Sneaky!" He wagged a finger at Frodo, who laughed.

       "It's so lovely to be out here, Sam. The smell of new-mown hay is delicious."

       Sam allowed himself a smile. "Well, I suppose it won't do you any harm - so long as you promise to stop if you feel tired or giddy, and take a breather every now and then."

       "I promise."

       "Obstinate Fallohide!"

       "That's good, coming from the most stubborn hobbit in Middle-earth!" Frodo grinned cheekily at Sam from beneath the brim of his hat. "See? I'm wearing my hat and keeping covered."

       "Glad to hear it. Now don't forget, rest when you feel tired. No-one will mind."

       Frodo watched Sam walk further down the field, then shook his head.

       "Proper old fussbudget, isn't he?" murmured Jolly Cotton.

       "He gets worse, I swear. I'm stronger now than I've been for almost twelve years, and he still fusses."

       "I heard that!" Sam called.

       "Stop giving him excuses to be lazy, Sam," teased Pip, mopping his face. "Those Bagginses are always ready to duck out of a job."

       "Impudent Pipsqueak!" Frodo yelled, laughing. "Slandering us Bagginses!" He swung the scythe methodically and with a beautiful economy of effort, enjoying the exercise and the feel of a working tool in his hands once more. The bright red poppies and blue corn cockle stood out around the edges of the field together with the bright yellow of the hedge mustard.

       They ate a combined second breakfast and elevenses and drank ale which had been cooling in the stream. At midday Rose and the children arrived with lunch and they sat in the shade and savoured every mouthful while the children scampered through the cut hay, tossed it in the air and rolled in it. Baby Pip crawled about and was bounced on a variety of laps by his doting uncles, and Merry-lad lived up to expectations by removing all his clothes and daring his older siblings to catch him.

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       Progress that afternoon was good and by tea-time they had completed the task. The hay would need to be turned every few days so that it could dry thoroughly before being stored in the hayloft - stored damp, it would decompose and generate heat, which could cause a fire. The weather looked fine and the old gaffers in the West Farthing predicted it would stay dry for at least two weeks more.

       "You alright?" Sam asked Frodo as they headed down to Bag End.

       "I feel wonderful! Just nicely tired, with the satisfaction of a good day's work done, a few blisters on my hands, which are to expected, and my back will probably twinge a bit, but I've had such a lovely day."

       "Good - that is what I always wanted to hear. I'm sorry if I fuss - I know I do - but I can't help it."

       "Oh Sam, you wouldn't be my dear Sam if you didn't fuss a bit, but don't worry so. I've caused you son much trouble and worry over the years and I know you fuss because you care for me."

       "Just tell me if I'm being daft old Sam."

       "I wouldn't swap 'daft old Sam' for all the treasures of Arda, dearest, you know that. I've never been better cared for and you have given me back everything I thought I'd lost. I have a home, a family and I'm surrounded by so much love I can't express what it means to me." He linked his arm through Sam's and they walked into the kitchen together.

       Dinner was superb - roast chicken with potatoes and vegetables and all sorts of fruit pies and puddings for afters. Pip was pink and itchy from sunburn, Merry was a rich golden colour and the Cottons were tanned as deeply as Sam. Even the children were glowing. Rose gazed at her large and cheerful family as they ate and talked, and felt so happy she thought she would burst. The hay harvest was done and if the fine weather held, there would be plenty for the winter months. If it was as good for the wheat and barley harvest in Wedmath they would have another 1420. In the Southfarthing the new vines in the Winyards fields were plumping nicely and a bumper vintage looked likely. Aragorn had already placed an order for a hundred bottles, and would give some cases as diplomatic gifts. Even the ambassadors from Harad and Rhun had expressed an interest.

       After dinner the Cottons wended their way home and the Bag End residents sat comfortably in the garden, watching the bats. Plodly rearranged the straw in his little summerhouse - an ale keg on its side - and Rufus chased moths. In the orchard a family of badgers slipped quietly from their sett, the youngsters to play and the adults to look for food.

       "This has been a perfect day," said Merry, puffing on his pipe. "Some days are like that. And we did what the proverb says we should - make hay while the sun shines."

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       In a small room at the top of the White Tower, Aragorn, son of Arathorn, assumed the guise of Strider as he gazed into the palantir and wished himself in that fragrant garden, surrounded by dear friends, full of good food and ale. A visit to the Shire always revitalised and cheered him, particularly if he had had a long day of diplomacy. When he returned to the Royal Apartments and his waiting family he was singing joyfully, and they knew he had enjoyed a brief visit with his loved ones in the Shire. The children clamoured to know, and he took Gilraen and Melian on his lap, hugged Eldarion and Arwen close, and told them about haymaking in Hobbiton on one perfect summer's day.