Deeper Than the Darkness

***

Part 4: Return to Hobbiton

They finished cleaning late in the afternoon, and were just preparing to serve supper, when there came an incessant knocking at the door. Startled, Frodo went to answer it.

"Sam!" they heard him exclaim from down the hall. "Please, come in! But, whyever did you knock?"

"Well, sir, the Gaffer told me you had moved back in almost as soon as I came home, and I wanted to come see you, but I thought you might like it if we started treating Bag End like a home, and not have workers traipsing in and out all the time. So, I knocked, if you follow."

Frodo laughed, and they rejoined the others in the kitchen. They asked Sam about his travels, and he was more then willing to tell them all about his trees and how the Shire was doing. But he insisted on seeing all the rooms in Bag End, and kept telling Merry and Pippin that they were a marvel. "I haven’t seen the place in nearly a month, true, but it looks wonderful! When my gaffer said you’d moved in, I expected to find you camped out in here, and have a word with you. But now, it looks almost the same as it always did."

Pippin laughed, "You weren’t too far off. Last night, we were nearly camping. But now you will observe, we have food, and fire wood, so we are much better prepared."

"Would you like to join us for supper?" asked Frodo.

Sam hesitated. "I would, at that. It is my first night home, so I’d like to be getting back to my gaffer. But of course, Marigold had supper all ready for him, so it won’t hurt if I stay up here for a little while."

"Splendid!" exclaimed Pippin. "You can stay for supper, and now that Frodo is rested, it can be a bit more like a party than last night. We can celebrate your homecoming tonight."

"Pippin has been dying for a party," Frodo said as an aside to Sam. "I suspect it will be a long time before we get him to visit stuffy old Hobbiton again."

Now it was Merry’s turn to laugh. "And I think it will be a long time before you and Sam get stuffy." He turned back into the kitchen. "I’ll get the roast, and we have some potatoes. Pippin, would you mind filling the mugs?"

"With what?" asked Frodo.

"With beer, of course!" replied Pippin with a wink.

"Where did that come from?" asked Frodo, who was still mystified.

"Oh, Merry and I acquired a small barrel this morning, while you were sleeping." With a laugh, Pippin disappeared down the hallway, carrying the empty mugs.

Frodo turned to Merry. "Is there anything you two didn’t stock?"

Merry looked thoughtful for a moment. "You are still missing parsley," he said.

Sam laughed. "We’ll soon take care of that. Bag End has always grown its own herbs."

"Hmmm. Perhaps Pippin and I should look into that," said Merry. "It would be much more convenient." He picked up the roast, and then turned back to them. "Oh, and I almost forgot, you are still missing the feather beds."

Frodo grimaced. "I will look into that shortly, I promise."

They soon sat down at the dining room table and started discussing everyone’s coming and goings for the past month. Sam and Pippin were the most talkative. Frodo only spoke when Sam asked him questions about Hobbiton, but he smiled often, and seemed to enjoy their company. Sam seemed to be his usual cheerful self, and it seemed he had lost any provincial mistrust he may have had for the hobbits from more distant parts of the Shire. "Everywhere I went, it seemed, the folk were more’n willing to lend a hand. They all thanked me for what I were doing, and said they’d be glad to see things go back to the way they had been, right enough. ‘Course, it seemed to me like they all knew I was comin’, and when. And I don’t think that that was all Shire-talk, were it, Mr. Frodo?

"No, it wasn’t. I did write some letters." Frodo raised his hand before Sam could protest. "Sam, you know how the old ladies have been hassling me about the Post. Seems they think it isn’t as fast as it used to be, and they think their letters are going astray."

"Into a wastebasket, more like," muttered Pippin, who had many well-intentioned older relatives.

"Well, anyway, as Post Master, it seemed only right that I make some effort to make sure things run smoothly, at least until Old Will is ready to take things in hand." Frodo continued. "And no, Pippin, I honestly think that some of the letters weren’t reaching their destinations. So, Sam, I took advantage of your little holiday to write letters to towns all over the Shire. It turned out that some of the new letter-carriers were not doing their jobs very well at all. It seems that some Shirrifs had gotten used to being lazy. So, we’ve found new hobbits to do their work, and now it seems to be getting done."

"Well, I do thank you Mr. Frodo, though you needn’t have done that, really," said Sam.

"And the old ladies of Hobbiton thank you, too!" added Pippin.

"And what have the two of you been doing, other than moving all of Mr. Frodo’s things?" asked Sam.
Pippin launched into a description of their trip to Tuckborough, and then rather innocently asked Sam what sorts of trees grew in the North Farthing. He got more of an answer to that then he had thought possible.

"Those ruffians, though, they made quite a mess of Scary, let me tell you," Sam continued, shaking his head. "Why, they burned down so many trees, there weren’t no way I could replant them all. And houses, too! Imagine that, burning down folks’ homes. Terrible, that was. I hope that is the last we’ve seen of them."

Pippin seized on this opportunity to turn to a topic other than trees. "We haven’t seen any of them for nearly three months, and the last report we heard of them, down in the South Farthing, was about two months ago, now. I think we have seen the last of them, though of course we still have to keep a look-out."

Sam nodded thoughtfully. "So I guess it was lucky that Mr. Frodo bought Crickhollow after all. Though I’m forgetting, of course it belonged to the Brandybucks before anyway."

Merry laughed, "No, it’s been a life saver! We needed somewhere we could get the lads together, and Brandy Hall was definitely out of the question."

"Why is that?" asked Sam, puzzled. "It certainly looked big enough to me."

"Oh, the size isn’t the problem," said Pippin ruefully. "There are just too many mothers. ‘Don’t bring your sword in here,’ ‘Don’t let the children touch that war-gear,’ ugh!"

"Oh, I see," laughed Sam. "That would make it difficult to hold a muster! It is a shame, not being welcome in your own home, just because it’s hard times."

"He’s welcome, don’t worry about that!" said Pippin. "The mothers may complain about us, but the children love us. Especially after Merry’s birthday!"

"Why, what did he do?" asked Sam.

"Oh, he only made puppets for every child in the place," Pippin said offhandedly.

"That is a lot of puppets, then," smiled Sam.

"Well, you have to understand, I missed giving out gifts last year, so I had to make up for it. I tried to make dolls for the girls…" Merry began to explain.

"But they didn’t turn out well at all!" laughed Pippin, who had three older sisters.

"So I decided to turn them into puppets, which worked out much better. It’s easier to carve faces and have wooden bodies than to do all of that stitching, anyway. I just made mitten puppets for the younger ones, but they seemed to like them."

"But now that the ruffians are gone, what will you do?" asked Sam.

"We’ll have to talk to cousin Frodo about that," said Merry. "It depends on what his plans for Crickhollow are. Even though we probably won’t have to hold any more musters, we can certainly hold parties there! But we can talk business some other time."

They had finished eating, and were just filling up the corners, so Pippin got up to clear the plates away. From the kitchen, they soon heard his voice ring out with "Chip the bowls and crack the plates, that’s what Frodo Baggins hates…"

"Yes, I do, so you had better not break any!" called Frodo, as Merry laughed.

Sam stood up. "Mr. Merry, I thank you for the supper. It’s been that good to be back and see you all. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to help out with the moving, but I’ll try to help with any loose ends. Like parsley," he added with a grin.

"Sam, we’re glad you were able to stay to dinner. Take care, and have a good evening."

"Goodnight, Mr. Pippin!" he called into the kitchen, and Pippin waved back. He was covered in soap suds to his elbows, but he was grinning.

Frodo stood up to walk Sam to the door. "I’m glad you’re back," he said simply.

"Me too, Mr. Frodo, me too," said Sam. "Hobbiton is home."

"I’m sure you have things to see to, since you just arrived today. I’d like to talk to you about the garden, but we can do that whenever you are ready. I just moved, too, so I have plenty to keep me busy here."

"Well, I do have some things to do tomorrow, sir, but I will be happy to talk about the garden the next day."

"Goodnight, Sam. Thank you for stopping by for supper."

"Goodnight, Mr. Frodo."

***

Sam had a lot on his mind as he walked down the hill that night. It had been a busy day. He’d arrived in Bywater and returned the carts (and Cres Cartwright) early that afternoon. He’d gone to visit his Gaffer straightaway, to make sure that everything was as it should be at home. He’d found Marigold there, of course, getting supper ready and doing the washing. The Gaffer told him that Mr. Frodo had already gone and moved hisself into Bag End with those cousins of his. He wondered a bit at that, but now that he had seen everything for himself, he thought it must be fine. Mr. Frodo, he did look a bit tired, though. Perhaps the moving should have been left to younger hobbits… He had offered to walk Marigold home, and she seemed pleased enough with that suggestion. She asked a few polite questions about his journey, and then caught him up with what was happening in Hobbiton. He had been gone for well nigh a month, so it shouldn't’ve surprised him that so much had happened. But it did catch him off guard, a bit.

He wished Marigold a good evening, and exchanged pleasantries with Tom. Then, since he was right there, it seemed as good a time as any to talk to Farmer Cotton. He’d been to see the Cottons nearly every day since he’d gotten back from Gondor, but he was a bit nervous, all the same. Don’t be a fool, Samwise, he told himself. You’ve talked to Farmer Cotton many a time, and you’ve got no reason to think he’ll disagree with you now. So, get it done, and no more delaying. You’re home now, and home for good. As luck would have it, Farmer Cotton was coming in from the fields as Sam came up the lane. He waved to him, and the old Farmer waited patiently enough for Sam to reach the yard.

"Mr. Cotton, may I ask to have a word with you?" Sam said, after the greetings.

"Why certainly, if it won’t be keeping me from my supper." Farmer Cotton replied. "And what might this be about?"

"It’s about your daughter, sir. I was hoping that I might have a word with her, I mean, talk to her. I mean…" Sam’s voice trailed off.

"Well then, Master Gamgee, and what would you like to talk to her about?" asked Farmer Cotton pleasantly. He did not seem to be surprised by this conversation.

"Sir, I would like to ask Rose to marry me," Sam said, standing up straight. "I’ve come home, to stay if you understand me, and I’m mighty glad that she’s waited for me all this time. So, if it’s agreeable to you, I’d like to speak with her tomorrow."

"I understand you, Master Gamgee," said Farmer Cotton. "I must say, I’m glad to hear that you’ve decided to put down some roots in Hobbiton. It doesn’t do to have family too far away. I’ll talk to the Misses, but I dare say she’ll be able to spare Rose tomorrow afternoon."

"Thank you, sir!" Sam said, letting out his breath. He hadn’t even realized that he’d been holding it. "I’ll see you tomorrow!"

The walk back to Hobbiton had been a blur for Sam. Thinking about it now, he smiled. Tomorrow certainly would be an important day! As he reached the door to the small hole he shared with the Gaffer, he remembered Bilbo’s parting comment to him in Rivendell. Bless the old hobbit! he thought. He knew well enough that once I came home, I’d be wanting to get married. I wonder if he remembers Rosie? Then he stepped inside.

***

The next morning, Sam took care of some odds and ends of business. Of course he had to listen to the Gaffer’s version of everything that had happened while he was away, and answer all of his questions about his trip. Sam was glad of his father’s advice, but he had trouble concentrating on everything that was said. After elevenses, he prepared to leave, and informed the Gaffer that he might not be back until later that evening. "Home again, and off already," said the Gaffer, shaking his head, but Sam did not elaborate. Better to wait until I have news, he thought. First, he stopped by Widow Rumble’s to give her a skein of wool yarn and some jars of pears that he had picked up on his travels. She had looked after the Gaffer while he was away, and he was grateful for that.

"Why, young Master Gamgee, there weren’t no need for you to do all of that!" she said when he presented his gifts to her. "You know I’m happy to check in on him, and see that all is well there. It does me good to get out and about too, you know," she smiled. "You know that Marigold has come over every week, and she probably could have managed just fine without me."

"I want to thank you, all the same," said Sam. "And it has been a relief to Marigold, knowing that you are here. She might not be able to always make it, now, with the baby coming in the summer."

"That’s true enough, but now that you are here, I doubt that there’ll be much for me to do, between the two of you. But I’ll still stop over, all the same, in case there is anything that needs doing. Sometimes you young folk don’t understand what it’s like, getting old," she finished with a grin.

Sam stayed a bit longer to listen to her news of her family, and then, with a final word of thanks, he bid her farewell and set off towards the Cottons. Over the past few weeks he had had some time to do some thinking. Most of the winter, he had been too busy to put two thoughts together, but travelling about the Shire, he had made up his mind.

Or so he thought. As much as he had known that Rosie was the girl for him, he had to think about his other responsibilities. Take his old Gaffer, now. He was getting up there in years, and needed someone to look after him. Sam had stayed with him all winter, but leaving on this trip to visit the trees had driven home to him the importance of staying close to home. He didn’t think that the Gaffer would mind having him and Rosie there, so that would be fine. But, he wasn’t sure what Rosie would think of all that. Sharing a home with his Gaffer might be too much to ask of a young bride. And then there was Frodo. Mr. Frodo. What was Sam to do? He had looked tired last night. He ought not to be up at Bag End, all by himself. His cousins loved him dearly, but sometimes they forgot that he wasn’t as young as them. And they would be leaving soon enough, to be sure. He felt a bit odd, going to talk to Rosie without knowing what Mr. Frodo thought of it. But there would be plenty of time for that. Assuming Rose said yes, he could tell his Gaffer and Mr. Frodo, and give them both plenty of time to get used to the idea, before the wedding. Assuming she said yes. Oh he did hope…well, there weren’t any need to dwell on that – he would hear an answer from her own lips soon enough.

But it was hard to think of those things now! Everything he saw reminded him of Rosie. As he walked through the village of Hobbiton, he was reminded of many market days. And always, weaving in and out of the crowd of faces, there was Rosie, buying things for her family, or more often selling, wearing her hat with the blue ribbon. As he crossed the bridge, he remembered playing in the Water. Rosie and Marigold had sat on the bank and laughed at the antics of the boys, and the sun had shown in her hair. If he had been nervous the night before, now he was in danger of floating away. A great fool I must look, he thought, grinning from ear to ear for no reason. As he walked down the lane to her family’s farm, he remembered warm summer days spent seeking the cool shade of the tall trees. Sitting in the grass, he could watch the light of the westering sun reflect in her bright eyes.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Cotton. I hope you are well?" Somehow, Sam had made it to the kitchen, though he did not remember how he got there.

"Very well, thank you. We’ve missed you this past month, and I hope you’ll tell us all about your trip sometime."

"I’d be happy to. Is Rosie about this afternoon?" he asked.

"Why, yes she is. Let me call her a moment." Mrs. Cotton stepped out of the kitchen, and called down the hall, "Rosie, you have a visitor." Then Mrs. Cotton turned back to Sam. "Oh, if you can remember, would you mention to Mr. Frodo that I told Regan he can deliver Frodo Baggins’ letters to Bag End now?"

Sam nodded absently, but his eyes strayed to the door. Rosie arrived a moment later, with her eyes shining. She grinned as soon as she saw him, even though she was clearly trying to keep a straight face. Sam, meanwhile, was trying to find his voice. He couldn’t remember her ever looking so beautiful.

"Rosie…" he began. "Rosie, would you like to go for a walk?" he finally managed.

"Yes, I would," she replied, still smiling.

Mrs. Cotton watched from the window as Sam and Rosie walked across the fields.

***

The crickets were chirping in the gloaming when Sam walked Rosie back to her door.

"What a day!" said Sam, taking Rosie’s hand. "I can’t remember when I’ve been this happy."

"Me neither," she laughed. "Now, it seems that all the time you were away was no more than a day or so. But I don’t want to let you out of my sight, now!"

"I don’t want to leave you, neither," he said, kissing her hand. "And I am sorry it’s been so difficult for you. I promise you, you’ll always know from now on. No more secrets and guessing between us."

"Well, much as I don’t want to, I should probably go inside and tell them the news." She laughed again. "Not that they can’t guess…"

"Oh, Rose dear, they can guess quite easily that I’d want to marry the prettiest girl in the Shire. But I’m not sure they’d be so certain about you!"

"Aren’t you?"

"Oh, aye, you could have had any lad in the world, and that is no lie. I’m right amazed you’ve waited all this time for me, I am. And I can’t ask you to wait any longer."

"Did you honestly think I’d say no?" she laughed. "I’ll let you know what they said tomorrow. And you’re going to tell me what your Gaffer says, won’t you?"

"Of course. I’ll see you tomorrow, my love." He put his arms around her, holding her close and breathing in her sweet scent. "Goodnight, Rosie." He kissed her forehead and let her go, reluctantly.

"Goodnight, Sam," she said, but didn’t step away. He kissed her, and they both grinned. Then she turned, and went into the house.

***

Sam was in a bit of a fix. He’d been worrying over what to say to Frodo ever since he trudged up to Bag End that morning. How was he going to break the news? How was he going to tell Frodo that he and Rosie would be getting married, and right away at that? He couldn’t think what to say, so he let the day drag by, with Mr. Frodo content to go over the garden and the repairs of Bag End, discussing plans for the future. It wasn’t until the afternoon that he finally made up his mind to say something. Better he hear it from him directly, after all.

So, when Frodo asked him when he would be moving in, he tried the best he could to break the news gently. After all, Mr. Frodo had nearly as much claim to him as Rosie, but at least Rose knew all about Mr. Frodo. Frodo had never married, so Sam wasn’t sure if he would really understand. But Frodo surprised him. He should have known, he thought to himself, that Frodo would know him better than that. He had invited both him and Rosie to live at Bag End! What a solution – and in an entire month of puzzling over the situation, it had never occurred to Sam. He had only to tell Rosie tonight, but he thought she would be quite pleased with the arrangements.

***

Merry walked into Frodo’s study. He had just returned from a walk to Overhill with Pippin, and was in good spirits.

"Frodo, I hope I’m not interrupting you," he began. "I realize how important it is for you to stay in this stuffy room while it is bright and green outside."

Frodo looked up. "What? Oh, I’m sorry, Merry. How was your walk?"

"Lovely. Do you know, that tree Sam planted by the stump of the old Party Tree is already taller than I am?"

"And that is saying something," Frodo smiled. "I’m sorry I wasn’t able to go with you. These papers are a frightful nuisance, but they must be taken care of. I’ve just received a letter from the Bracegirdles. It seems Lobelia died earlier this week."

"Oh, I guess that explains why she didn’t answer your letter, then," was all Merry found to say in reply.

"Yes, though I think you may have to revise your opinion of her," said Frodo quietly.

"Oh? And why is that?" asked Merry.

"Because she has left everything to those hurt by Lotho. And, I’m afraid she entrusted it all to me."

"She did what!" Merry’s face was a study in shock. "First Bag End, and now everything she owns. And she left it…to you! I think you are right." He paused for a moment, and then mused, "We are not the only ones who have changed over this past year or so."

"No, indeed not. The whole Shire has changed, Merry. I can only hope it will be for the better," said Frodo.

"Frodo, I’ve been meaning to ask you about Crickhollow," Merry continued after awhile. "Now that you’ve settled into Bag End, do you know what your plans are for the place?"

"I haven’t thought of that recently, but I can assure you, I have no intention of turning you and Pippin out, if that’s what you’re worried about." Frodo smiled affectionately at his cousin.

"I’m glad to hear that!" said Merry, feigning relief. "But seriously, if you do think of selling, I’d like you to know that I am interested in buying it."

"Really?" Frodo seemed mildly surprised. "Well, it might as well go back to a Brandybuck at some point. There’s no hurry now, though. You can continue to live there at present, and when you are serious about settling down, we’ll discuss it again. Does your father know about this?"

"Yes, I talked to him about that before we went to Tuckborough. He understands why I need to stay clear of Brandy Hall, and I assured him that I wouldn’t be moving away permanently. It would just be good to know that I’ll always have a retreat away from the hustle and bustle of the family."

"So you have thought this out. I’m glad to hear that. Well, I’m not quite ready to let go of the place just yet, but I will keep this in mind. I can promise you that you will be the first person I talk to, when I do decide to sell it." Frodo’s face looked a bit pained, and Merry wondered at that. He hadn’t realized that Frodo felt attached to Crickhollow, since he’d never really lived there.

***

"So, Merry," began Pippin. "How long would you like to stay in Hobbiton?"

They were ambling around the Hill in the afternoon; Sam was in the garden, turning over the soil. Merry’s gaze strayed over to Bag End before he answered.

"That depends. Is there any pressing reason to go back to Crickhollow?"

"Well, no, not really." Pippin said, frowning. "I mean, I want to go back at some point, and of course we cannot just stay with Frodo indefinately."

"Yes, Frodo…" Merry said, "he’s not left his study since we’ve been here, and he’s rather tenaciously rejected all of your suggestions for parties. He is not himself." He sighed. "I’m not sure what’s to be done with him, but I am not going to leave here until I have at least an idea."

"He is not the only one who is being close," Pippin replied. "Sam has been unusually quiet since he got back. Either he knows about Frodo, and doesn’t want to talk about it, or else…well, what else would it be?"

"Let’s ask him," said Merry. He walked over to the garden, with Pippin following. Sam looked up when he saw them approaching, and paused, leaning on his shovel.

"Sam, do you know why Frodo’s been keeping himself cooped up since he moved?" Pippin asked.

"No, Mr. Pippin, I don’t, but I do know the Cottons have said he did the same while I were away, it seems. It isn’t good for him, but you know he doesn’t listen to no one when he has a mind."

"Well, I have a mind to change that," said Merry. "But Pippin and I will not be here indefinitely, so we’ll need your help, Sam."

"Why Mr. Merry, you aren’t starting another conspiracy, now are you?" asked Sam, with a grin.

"No, nothing so serious," Merry assured him.

"But we know that there is nothing like your gentle encouragement for getting Frodo to do things," Pippin grinned.

"You will be around after we leave, won’t you?" asked Merry.

"Well, yes, Mr. Merry, you know that. I live in Hobbiton," Sam answered, using a suspiciously long way of saying yes.

"What is it you aren’t telling us, Sam?" asked Pippin.

"Whatever it is, you’ll hear about it soon enough," he said gruffly, turning back to his shoveling. His ears, Pippin noticed, were bright red.

"Then why don’t you just tell us now?" persisted Merry.

"What was your plan to get Mr. Frodo out of his hobbit-hole?" Sam asked, pointedly ignoring the question and continuing to turn over the soil.

Pippin looked across at Merry as if to say "I-told-you-so," but Merry just ignored him. "Well, Pippin and I don’t have any clear plans, but we thought we’d start with something small, gradually working our way up to a long walk or a full-scale party, or both. But we weren’t sure how long that would take."

"Seeing as how we can’t even get him to spend an afternoon sitting in the garden, at the moment," Pippin chimed in helpfully.

"Oh, I see," said Sam, leaning on his shovel again. "You want to make sure he’s settled in, afore you leave, but you don’t want to stay all summer. Of course I’ll look after him, you needn’t worry about that. I can tell you, he has come out to the garden, though not for a whole afternoon." Sam paused, looked hard at his shovel for a moment. "I’ll tell you what. I was thinking of having a bit of a party next Saturday, just a few folk over, mind you, and I’d certainly be pleased if you would like to join us."

Merry clapped him on the back. "That will be perfect! We can play it up, and insist that the acting-Mayor attend your first birthday back in the Shire. What do you think, Pippin, will that do?"

Before he could answer, the kitchen door opened and Frodo came out. "Well, there you all are!" he called. "It was awfully quiet inside, and I was beginning to wonder where you had gotten to," he said as he slowly walked over to join them. "These cousins of mine need looking after, wouldn’t you agree, Sam?" he added with a twinkle in his eye.

"Aye, that they do, sir. They are always dashing about here, there and everywhere. Why, what was it you were telling me you plan to do tomorrow, Mr. Pippin?"

"Oh, nothing much," Pippin replied, grinning. "I just thought that Merry might like to go for a bit of a ramble along the Water, and then maybe stop by the Ivy Bush on the way home. But, if you think we need looking after, Frodo, you’re welcome to join us." He put on his most innocent expression, knowing that it would make both his cousins even more suspicious. Sure enough, Frodo took the bait.

"Oh, Pippin, I know you’re up to something. You and Merry look thick as thieves. Very well, I’ll join you, if just to keep you respectable. But while I’m out here, I meant to ask you, Sam, how it’s going? I know it’s a frightful nuisance having to start the garden from scratch this year, and I hope you’ve not had too much trouble finding starter seed?"

"Oh no, sir, it’s been going fine. Slowly but surely, it’ll come back. All that ash is probably good for the soil, though we’ll see." Sam then proceeded to explain his plans to Frodo, and Merry and Pippin quietly excused themselves.

***