33 ~ The Party

The hole is full tonight with Sam’s family and Rosie’s. I enjoy seeing them, especially Sam’s youngest sister, Marigold. She reminds me much of Sam, and has always been like a little sister to me.

Rosie looks as excited as a child today. She enjoys parties immensely and is so happy that Sam thought to give her one.

She rushes up to Marigold and Tom as they enter with Mr. and Mrs. Gamgee, and hugs her.

“I can’t wait to give you your present!” Rosie exclaims, beaming mischievously at her sister-in-law. “You’ll love it!”

Marigold smiles. “Will I?”

“Come, everyone else is already here, and waitin’ for us in the dinin’ room,” Rosie says as Sam and I lead the way. “I dare say our brothers are starved!”

“Indeed, they probably are,” Marigold says with a giggle, setting her cloak on the coat stand, and hurrying after us.

Marigold and Tom sit beside me as Sam sets the chicken pie on the table. Rosie is beaming at him.

“You made my favorite, love,” she says, kissing him before sitting down.

Sam smiles and blushes, then sits next to her.

After dinner, Rosie leads us all into the parlor to give out her presents. But before she starts, I rise and say, “Rosie, I have something for you. Among the Men of Gondor it is traditional to receive gifts on your birthday. Queen Arwen and King Aragorn sent this for you for your birthday.” I hand her a small box wrapped in blue paper.

Rosie looks at me curiously, then proceeds to open the box. She pulls out a beautiful gold chain with a ruby and diamond pendant attached to it.

“It’s beautiful!” she exclaims. “I’ve never had nothin’ so fine!”

“It was made in Rivendell by the Elves,” I reply, smiling as Sam helps her put it on.

“I shall have to write a thank you to them directly,” she says, reaching behind her chair to pull out a few bundles. “After I give out my presents of course.”

She steps over to Marigold, and hands her one of the large bundles. “You first, since I’ve been waitin’ all day to see your reaction.”

Marigold opens the sack, and pulls out the dress Rosie had worn for her wedding. “Oh, Rosie!” Marigold gasps, beaming.

“I knew you wanted it, so I altered it to fit you and decided to give it to you now.”

Marigold smiles happily, and throws her arms around Rosie’s neck, kissing her cheek and saying, “Thank you so much!”

She gives me and Sam and her various brothers, by blood or by marriage, each a scarf she had knitted.

Her mother receives a lovely apron and her father and the Gaffer are given sweaters.

At last she hands Daisy and May each a lovely bracelet she had made, and sits down next to Sam again.

The conversation picks up again, and Sam meets my eye as Rosie laughs at something Marigold says. He smiles at me and mouths, “Thank you.”

I smile back in answer, but I can’t think why he’s thanking me. I did barely anything.

For the rest of the evening I sit back with Wanderer on my lap, listening to the sweet sound of joyful conversation around me.

* * *

I pull another book off the shelf and glance over its pages quickly. I wonder how far Ellis will get in our lesson today.

I hear a cart pull up to the front gate and glance out the window to see the lad come up the path, a bag of books and supplies over his right shoulder.

I go to open the door for him, and he greets me with a large smile and a “Hello, Mr. Frodo!” just the way I remember Sam doing when he was younger.

I smile and say, “Good morning, Ellis. How are you today?”

Ellis shrugs, the smile never leaving his face. “Ready to learn more, Mr. Frodo!” he says, excitedly.

I close the door after him and lead him into the parlor.

“I learned the sounds of all them letters, and found ‘em in one of the books you gave me,” he says, leaping onto the couch and hurriedly, but carefully pulling out his slate, chalk and books.

“Good,” I say. “Now show me.”

He shows me the letters he’d found in the first paragraph of the book I had given him, then I ask him to sound out a few simple words and copy them onto his slate.

He does this quite nicely and quicker than I had expected. He pauses for a moment, after writing them down, and I look up from the book I had been flipping through, looking for short sentences I think he can read. I notice him looking at my missing finger. He isn’t staring as though he’s scared of it, or horrified by it, or even looking as though he doesn’t know what to think. He is just gazing at it thoughtfully, until he asks, “What happened on yer journey, Mr. Frodo?”

I pause for a moment. “Much happened. It would take a long time to tell of and I do not think your mother would appreciate it if I told you much of what occurred,” I explain to him.

He doesn’t protest, only sits back, knowingly, not pressing the matter, showing a maturity far beyond his years.

“It must have been bad, then. I heard there was a war,” he says. “Does your finger hurt?”

I glance down at it. “Yes, sometimes,” I reply.

“My arm still aches sometimes on account a it didn’t set right,” he says, unconsciously cradling his injured arm to his chest.

“Some wounds never heal,” I tell him gently. “Many of mine haven’t.”

“What do you do about it?” Ellis asks, stroking Wanderer’s head as he comes by.

I hadn’t really thought of it before. “I go on with my life, I suppose,” I reply. Which is true, for my physical wounds. But there are other wounds that no one can see that I have not, or will not, face, and I cannot go on with my life because of them.

I see a look in Ellis’ face that tells me he understands my pain and that he doesn’t know what to do about it either. I feel a sudden urge to comfort him and help him, but how can I help him if I don’t know what to do myself?

I pull out the book I had been looking at and return our attention to his lessons.