Chapter 9

“So you’re courting her then?” Sam was saying to Merry when Frodo entered the room. “I wish you both the best and happiest.”

“Thank you Sam,” Merry said, looking as cheerful as the sun beaming outside. “I never would have thought this possible. Pippin’s going to be devastated that he missed this visit.”

“That he will,” agreed Frodo, coming to stand at the foot of the bed. “We’ll have to make it up to him somehow. Will you be writing your mother to let her know?”

Merry nodded. “As soon as I finish cleaning the other rooms. I’ll take the rest of the posts with me when I go. We’ll have to send the one to Pip by Quick Post if he’s to get it before tomorrow.”

“I thought I was taking the posts on my way to commission Furze for the garden,” Frodo said.

“Oh, begging your pardon Mr. Frodo but Goldie said as Daddy Twofoot could get word to him tonight,” said Sam.

“So I’ll take the posts,” Merry reiterated.

“And stop by a certain healer’s house on the way back?” teased Frodo. Merry only grinned in reply. “Very well. Get to your cleaning then, Merry-dear. I’ll let you know when tea is ready. You can go afterwards.”

Merry hopped up and disappeared down the tunnel. Frodo watched his cousin’s retreating back with a fond smile. “I suspect the next rooms won’t be quite so clean now that he has nothing gnawing at him, and more than enough reason to leave.”

Sam hummed in agreement and shifted against his pillows, making himself more comfortable. Frodo readjusted the pillows that Sam’s foot was resting on, making them more even, for they were beginning to sag to one side as Sam wiggled about. Willow had used nearly every pillow available to her to prop up Sam’s foot and it was now nearly level with the top of the foot board. When Sam was situated, Frodo regarded the box with the same odd expression he had worn the day before, resting his hand feather-soft upon it.

“Merry broke his arm once, but I don’t remember the healer in Brandy Hall putting his arm in a box. She used bandages dipped in plaster and wrapped them about the break. She had to wait for each layer to dry before she put on more. It was very messy and it seemed to take hours,” Frodo said.

“Mayhap she didn’t know about the box,” Sam suggested. “Or mayhap there ain’t a box that will fit an arm easily like this one.”

“Perhaps. Are you more comfortable now?” Frodo asked.

“Aye, it’s much better than it was.”

“Good. We’ll have to make sure the pillows don’t soften with the weight then. Did Goldie’s visit ease you? You seem much more relaxed.”

Sam smiled fondly, remembering his sister’s visit. “She’s a blossom, she is, always looking after. May always said Goldie’d spoil me soon as it was just the two of us, and she weren’t wrong.”

“She is a good sister,” Frodo agreed, coming around the bed to sit in the chair Merry had vacated. He turned it to face Sam more directly before sitting. He slunk into it casually. “She spoke with me before she left.”

Sam looked alarmed at this news. “She did? About what? She weren’t bothersome, was she, sir?”

“No, not at all. She wanted to talk about you. Or me, point of fact,” Frodo answered easily. Deciding there was no other way to broach the subject, he got right to the point. “You think I don’t trust you and that’s why we don’t leave you alone?”

Sam flushed furiously, his ease and joy sinking with him into the pillows. He silently berated himself while simultaneously trying to make himself as small as he could, with little result. He knew he should have told Marigold to keep quiet about his concerns. “She said that? I’m sorry sir, she shouldn’t have bother—”

“Yes, she said that,” Frodo interrupted gently, still sitting easily, making every effort to show Sam that he was not upset. “Is it true? You think that?”

Sam nodded miserably, dropping his gaze from Frodo’s inquiring eyes to his master’s shoulder. “I just couldn’t think of any other reason why you’d be hanging about so much. Goldie figured as you just didn’t want me to be getting lonely, and I reckon she’s got the right of it.”

“She was partly right,” Frodo admitted. “It was also because that’s just what we do, though apparently it’s only gentlehobbits who do it, never leaving someone alone who is sick or injured. And here I was thinking that the only reason you didn’t want us around was because you didn’t want your ‘betters’ looking after you. Now I find out that it’s also because you’re simply not used to it. I wish you would have told me.”

Sam’s flush deepened, both at his master’s gentle understanding and at his knowledge that Sam was still treating him as a ‘better’ in regards to his care despite promising not to. Sam had once again been caught not speaking frankly to his master, at least not in words Frodo would truly understand. “I did say the other day as you should take your rest sir, begging your pardon,” Sam muttered. “I guess maybe I ought to have spoke more plainly.”

“That would have been helpful,” Frodo said, realizing now the true meaning behind the words spoken as suggestion. At the time, Frodo had simply thought that Sam only wished for Frodo to rest that first morning since he had been up with Sam nearly the whole night before and was in much need of sleep. Now Frodo saw that Sam had meant the suggestion to last for the entirety of his stay. He knew also why Sam had stated his request as he had – it was a servant’s way of ordering his master without issuing a direct command, leaving the choice to the master to listen or not listen as he pleased. Frodo suppressed a frustrated sigh as he felt the weight of his title bearing down on him; every time that happened he felt that much more removed from his friend. He shrugged it off stubbornly, not wanting Sam to feel he had let him down yet again. The last thing he wanted to do was get into another argument.

Frodo managed a smile, which eased some of the tension from Sam’s shoulders.  He cleared his throat and suggested, “How about Merry and I use the mornings to keep the household affairs in order and in the afternoons, if you’re not resting or don’t have other company, Merry and I will attempt to keep you from getting too bored.”

“I don’t want you thinking you got to stay away, sir,” Sam said anxiously, fretting with his blanket as he regarded his master earnestly. He had not missed Frodo’s pained expression, as brief as it had been. “I just didn’t know as why you were always about, but now as I do, I won’t be so worrit about it. You don’t got to do nothing you’d rather not do. This is your home, sir, after all and it’s not for me to say where you can and can’t go.”

“You’re right. This is my home and part of being a good host is accommodating your guests, not smothering them,” Frodo insisted, sitting up now so Sam would know he was serious. “We’ll let you be. If you need something, you’ll call for us. That was the original agreement.”

Sam nodded, relief evident despite his words and regrets. “If that’s what you feel is best sir. I wouldn’t want you getting behind on things just because of me.”

“I understand, Sam. It’s been a while but I do remember what it’s like to have everyone around you worrying so much about what you might be needing that they don’t hear you when you tell them what you actually do need,” Frodo stated. “I’ll give you more time to yourself, and no offense taken. Now, I do have another letter or two I need to write myself, and then I best start on tea. Marigold brought a casserole for dinner, but I will have to see if I can find some squash to go with it. Call if you need anything. Or maybe…”

Frodo broke himself off and with a gesture to wait a moment, he left the room and went next door. Merry had cleaned Frodo’s childhood room nearly top to bottom, including the little bell of frosted glass that sat on the dresser. The bell was stenciled with violets around the bottom hoop, the flowers painted with the faintest of colors, muted further by the long years. Frodo lifted the bell gingerly and returned to Sam. He held it out for his friend to see, rang it twice, then sat it on the bedside table within Sam’s reach.

“Or give that a ring,” Frodo suggested. “Bilbo used to let me keep this when I visited. If I had a nightmare, I could just ring the bell until he woke up and came for me, rather than risk getting out of bed and wandering through the dark all alone.”

Sam fingered the little bell with an expression of sudden understanding mingled with mirth and nostalgia. “So that was it,” he muttered then elaborated. “It was just after one of your visits. I was helping to keep Mr. Bilbo company. He always used to get so lonely after you’ve gone. I left him in the parlor napping and I came into your room to play at adventures. I saw this bell which I’d never seen before and rang it just to hear what it sounded like. Next thing I know, here comes Mr. Bilbo dashing down the tunnel all affright. I always figured he was afraid I’d break it but now I’m wondering if he just didn’t let himself forget you were gone.”

Frodo laughed heartily, remembering the anecdote. “He told me about that in his next letter, and you’re right – he did forget. He felt rather foolish at first but of course he laughed about it later. And speaking of letters, I’d best get to mine. Is there anything you need before I go?” Sam shook his head. “Very well. I’ll make sure Merry doesn’t forget to clean in here.”

The rest of the day passed quickly for everyone. Merry finished his cleaning in time to help Frodo with tea, during which Frodo explained to him that they were to give Sam more time to himself. After tea, Merry left with the bundle of letters, deciding to write to his parents the following day when he had more time to sit and think of all he wanted to say. Frodo saw him to the gate, both of them noting with delight that the snow was nearly all melted. The ground was still covered in all directions but here and there patches of dirt or grass could be seen. In the distance, the Water was rushing high in its banks. Frodo smoked his pipe while he watched Merry disappear around the bend of the Hill, then turned to face the sun as it sank closer to the earth in the west.

He found Sam dozing when he went back inside and he left the gardener in quiet, opting to read in the parlor until Merry returned two hours later, red-cheeked from the cold and bouncing happily from his visit to Willow. She had been busy preparing more herbs for her various medicines and she had given Merry a lesson on the drying of flowers and plants. Then they had sat talking about their families until Merry looked outside and noticed it was nearly dark. Now he helped Frodo to warm up the casserole and bread and make a soup from the squash and lentils he had found in the pantry.

Sam was working on translating the Elvish poem, having only finished the first stanza to his own satisfaction, when they brought him dinner. He looked up gratefully for the food and drank down his medicines gamely. Then they sat and ate in comfort and played draughts for the rest of the evening.  

Sam should have known when Marigold suggested a bath to him that it wouldn’t be long before the healer would decide he needed one. When Willow arrived the following afternoon and announced the cast was dry and the box ready to be removed, she made another announcement as well. “It would be best if Sam has a bath before the box is removed. The cast should not get wet under any circumstances and the box will protect it from the water.”

Sam’s heart sank. He knew it was unlikely but he asked anyway, with the sullen regret that no amount of pouting would work on Willow. “I can get up to take a bath?”

“I’m afraid not. The bathing room is too far away and it would too risky getting you in and out of the tub at any rate,” Willow stated. “I brought a bathing pad to slide over the mattress so it doesn’t get soaked. After your bath, we can move you to a chair while the bedding is changed for fresh linens.”

“You’re going to give him a bath?” Merry asked. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh at Sam’s uncomfortable position or scowl at him for it. Frodo had no such holdbacks and was attempting to hide his grin behind a concealing hand.

Willow looked at Merry keenly but patiently. “Yes I am. It’s part of my job Merry. Don’t worry, he’ll stay covered the whole time.”

“Thank the stars,” Sam said.

“A part of your job?” Merry said, not consoled. “Is it a part you have to do often?”

“There are a couple of my older patients who are bed-ridden. They usually have attendants who do such things for them,” Willow said, a small smile teasing at the corners of her mouth. “Sam however has no such attendant, so unless you’d rather bathe him yourself…?”

“No!” cried Merry and Sam as one, and Frodo quickly suppressed a chuckle.

“Very well then. I’ll need a large pitcher of warm water for the ewer, as well as soap, shampoo, a washcloth and a towel,” Willow ordered and Merry reluctantly went to retrieve them.

“Can’t I just bathe myself?” Sam suggested desperately, clutching the blanket up to his chin and holding it there for dear life. Whether it was a part of her job or not, Sam wasn’t keen on the idea of Willow cleansing him, and he was absolutely appalled at the suggestion that Merry, or Frodo, do it instead. He nearly died of embarrassment every time they had to help him on and off the bed just so he could use the chamber pot. He didn’t even want to think about how they went about emptying it.

Sam watched in growing horror as Merry returned with the requested items and Willow quickly set about preparing for the job.

“I can bathe myself, honest I can,” Sam pleaded. “It’s not a bother at all. I can reach everything and it won’t be no bother to my foot either, not with the cast and all.”

“What about your backside?” Frodo teased unhelpfully. He tried to look contrite but everyone could see the glint of humor in his eyes. Merry turned to scowl at him instead.

“I’ll manage it sir,” Sam said and hoped he wasn’t gritting his teeth when he said it.

“Tell you what Sam,” Willow said, before the situation could get any more out of control. “I’ll wash your hair, since you’ll have to hang your head over the side of the bed for that and you don’t have to be undressed for that either. Then Frodo and Merry will lift you so I can get the bathing pad under you. Then we’ll leave you be, but only with the promise that you call for one of us if you’re not able to reach anything without compromising your foot. Agreed? Do I have your word?”

Sam nodded, relief flooding his face. “I promise.”

After this was decided upon, Frodo stopped snickering long enough to help Merry move Sam so he was lying along the width of the bed. They then scooted him back so his head hung over the side and moved the pillows to prop up his ankle again, using the bedside table to keep it from hanging off the edge of the bed along with his other leg. Willow moved the ewer to just under Sam’s head, the stand being just high enough so that the edge of the ewer acted as a rest for Sam’s neck. She draped a towel over his shoulders and around his neck while Frodo selected a fresh set of clothes for Sam. Merry and Frodo made themselves scarce then, leaving Willow and Sam alone.

Sam was surprised to discover how relaxing having his hair washed could be. He could not recall a time that anyone but himself had ever washed his hair, and he could feel himself nearly falling asleep as Willow’s fingers slowly circled his scalp, working the shampoo through his hair. The warm water slowly trickling over his scalp only made him more drowsy and by the end of it, he was close to dozing. Willow didn’t seem at all surprised by this as she gently coaxed him into sitting and she waited until he was awake enough to hold himself up before she dried his hair.

She called for Frodo and Merry to return, and they helped Sam off the bed and into a chair so Willow could strip the bed and position the bathing pad, a soft absorbent fur underlined with an oilcloth, over the mattress. Then Frodo and Merry helped Sam back onto bed as Willow filled the ewer with fresh water and placed soap and a rag within easy reach. Then they left the room, closing the door behind them.

They went to the kitchen so they would be close enough to hear if Sam called for them. Frodo served them tea and set out a plate of water-biscuits with a crock of butter and jar of jam.

Merry sipped his tea, looking at Willow thoughtfully. “So, do you wash everything when you bathe your patients?” he asked. “I would think there are some things they could wash for themselves.”

“If they’re able to, certainly I allow them to do so, but some of them are not,” Willow explained patiently. “They stay covered the whole time. I never see anything.”

“You’ve never seen anything?” Merry asked pointedly.

“Well, not when I bathe them,” Willow said. The scowl was instantly back on Merry’s face. “Merry, it’s part of being a healer. It’s not always herbs and poultices. I have to examine my patients.”

“Examine? Who are you examining?”

“How long do you think it will take?” Frodo jumped in before Merry could get himself too worked up. “How long do you think it will take Sam, I mean? I can’t imagine it would be easy to bathe yourself while lying in bed, especially with that box on his foot. We probably should have insisted that you or I help him, Merry.”

“He didn’t want our help,” Merry said, his arms crossed tightly over his chest as he frowned at Willow unhappily. “How many have you examined?”

Willow sighed and could only manage to look at Merry with a mixture of empathy for his feelings and regret that this subject had been brought up at all. She was about to answer when a loud eager knock sounded on the front door. Frodo answered the call and found not only Marigold on the stoop but the three eldest Cottons and Furze Smallburrows as well.

“Good day Mr. Baggins,” they all greeted warmly.

“Good day to you,” Frodo greeted back and let them in, noting ruefully that Tom and Jolly gave him as wide a berth as they could.

“How is Sam?” Rosie asked eagerly.

“He’s well. He’s taking a bath,” Frodo announced as he led the young hobbits to the kitchen.

“Oh,” Rosie replied, obviously disappointed that she wouldn’t be able to see Sam right away. “How long will he be?”

“That’s what we were just wondering,” Frodo said, gesturing for his new guests to sit at the table. “Sam only just now started bathing. He’s probably still undressing.”

“He’s up and about already then?” Tom asked as he and his friends arranged themselves around the table. He and Goldie sat on one side next to Willow, while Jolly took the head of the table and Rosie and Furze sat across from Goldie and Tom and next to Frodo. “Ol’ Twofoot made it sound like Sam could hardly stand. It must not be so bad as we were thinking if he’s in a tub already.”

“Oh, it’s bad,” Merry assured. “He can’t walk, not yet. He’s in his room bathing. We had to put a bathing pad on the bed.”

“He’s in bed?” Jolly asked, his eyebrows arching up so high they disappeared under his bangs. “That can’t be comfortable. Who’s helping him?” he asked with a glance at the healer.

“He didn’t want our help,” Merry announced. “He actually begged us not to stay.”

Goldie and the others laughed. “Sounds just like our Sam,” Tom said with a knowing wink at Jolly. The brothers stood and stepped back from the table. “Come on, Jolly. We’ll see if we can’t lend him a hand.”

“But he didn’t want any help,” Frodo said.

Jolly nodded. “Aye, and he wouldn’t, not from you, meaning no disrespect. But me, Tom and Sam and the other lads go paddling in the Pool often enough. He won’t object to us. Coming Furzy?”

Furzy shook his head. “I thought I’d take a look about the gardens, if you don’t mind Mr. Baggins,” he said.

“Of course not,” Frodo said. “I’ll go with you and show you around.”

“Then it’s just you and me, brother,” Jolly said to Tom. Then he grinned mischievously and winked at his sister.

“No,” Rosie said, reading her twin’s mind before he could say what he was thinking.

“Oh, come on, Rosie,” Jolly said. “It’ll be funny.”

“No and you’re just cruel to think it Wilcome Cotton,” Rosie said.

“Fine. I don’t need you anyway. I can do it on my own. Come along Tom. Which room is he in?” Jolly said.

“Out this doorway, four doors down on your right,” Goldie instructed, looking as confused as everyone else.

Jolly whispered in Tom’s ear as they made their way out of the kitchen. Rosie just shook her head at them and sighed. “Poor Sam,” she said as down the tunnel they suddenly heard Jolly calling out in an uncannily accurate imitation of his sister’s voice.

“Oh dear, the door’s closed. I hope he’s not asleep. Sam? Are you in there?” A soft knock was quickly followed by a yelp, two roars of laughter and something wet slamming against skin.

“You buggers!” Sam accused hotly as Tom and Jolly continued to laugh hysterically.

“Sam swears?” Merry said in surprise as the bedroom door closed, muffling the sounds of laughter.

“Oh, he cusses up a storm when he’s of the mind,” Goldie informed.

“Serves ‘em right,” Rosie said, not at all surprised by Sam’s outburst.

“That’s actually one of his kindlier ones,” Furzy stated.

Rosie shook her head again and stood herself. “Well, we might as well make ourselves useful while we wait, Goldie. Do you mind if we take over your pantries and kitchen Mr. Baggins? We’ll get dinner started and make tea while we’re at it.”

“Make yourselves at home, lasses,” Frodo said and gestured for Furzy to follow him outside. “I couldn’t tell you what Sam was planning to do next but maybe you could figure it out just looking at the grounds. You could always ask him too of course.” A few moments later, the front door opened and closed behind them.

Goldie and Rosie headed for the pantries. “I’ll help you lasses,” Willow offered and followed them back down the tunnel as more laughter erupted from the bedroom.

“That’s fine, everyone,” Merry said to no one. “I’ll just go in the study and write that letter to my parents.” He took the tea and food with him to the study, making himself scarce before the lasses could return.  

After Sam finished regaling his cousins with words not fit to repeat in polite company, Tom and Jolly helped him out of the rest of his clothes then settled themselves on the floor to play a game of draughts while Sam bathed. They helped only when Sam needed it, being otherwise content to sit and concentrate on the board game while they told Sam about all the rumors already running rampant about his unfortunate condition.

“I heard it from Farmer Noakes this morning that you actually might lose your leg,” Jolly said with a sad, exaggerated shake of his head. “Noakes has a cousin lives down Waymeet way and he has a peg leg. It’s his second peg leg, if you believe what Noakes says. According to him, his cousin’s first leg was infested with termites and it up and disappeared on him in the middle of the night one night. ‘Tis a tragedy.”

“His cousin’s half-blind too,” Tom added. “I reckon he just mistook his leg for firewood.”

Sam laughed at that. “I reckon you’re right about that, if he’s half as blind as Noakes is getting to be. Is that the worst of it?”

“From what I’ve heard so far,” Tom said. “Give folk for another couple of days. They’ll have you paralyzed and atrophied.”

“Does Noakes have a cousin who’s paralyzed?” Sam asked with a chuckle.

“I’m sure he’ll remember one,” Jolly said with a wink and a grin. “He’s got cousins with all sorts of ailments. Bad luck just seems to take a liking to some families better’n others.”

After Sam finished bathing, the brothers helped him out of bed and steadied him as he toweled himself dry and slipped into the clothes Frodo had set aside. Then they removed the bathing pad from the bed and dressed the mattress in fresh linens, cleaned up the room and helped Sam back into bed. Jolly took the ewer and bathing pad outside to pour the water over the grass and lay out the pad to dry in the sun. As he went, he let Goldie and Rosie know that Sam was ready to receive them. When the lasses came to a stopping point in their cooking, they washed their hands and went to join the lads in the room. Rosie and Goldie greeted Sam with a kiss on either cheek, Goldie automatically reaching for the hair brush to pull through Sam’s damp curls.

Willow unclasped the box and opened the lid to reveal a perfectly molded cast covering all but the toes of Sam’s feet and coming up his leg to just below the knee. Tom lifted Sam’s leg so Willow could slide out the bottom half of the box.

“All that for an ankle?” Tom said, warily eyeing the cast up and down.

“Can we draw on it?” Jolly asked.

“Is it heavy?” Rosie asked.

“Tisn’t heavy at all,” Tom answered, placing the foot back onto the pillows as Frodo, Merry and Furzy entered. “Though I reckon it’s heavier for Sam than it is for me.”

Sam agreed. “It’s not as heavy as it was with the box, but it’s still heavy. I’d say about the weight of a small bag of oats.”

“Only that?” asked Furzy and Sam’s face lit up to see another friend. They hugged briefly. “With all you must have to haul about the garden to keep it looking as grand as it does, one little bag of oats shouldn’t be too much for you.”

“So you’re going to do it?” Sam asked. “You’re going to take over for me?”

Furzy nodded. “I’ll need help I’m sure, at least during the planting season as is coming up real quick, but I’ll manage it. I just need you to give me an idea on what all you do and when you do it. I ain’t no green thumb like you Sam. I can’t feel my way through it.”

“Can you stay long today? I’ll tell you what all needs to be done through the early spring. It’s a lot but it shouldn’t be too hard for you to remember. I could jot it down for you even, if you like. You could always find someone to read the instructions for you if you think you’ve forgotten anything.”

Furzy nodded. “That’ll do.”

“Sam,” Willow said, regaining everyone’s attention. “You are still not to move this leg, not for another four days. At that time, I’ll come back to check on your progress and get you into a pair of crutches.” She turned to Frodo and addressed him. “I’ll leave the box and bathing pad here, so you can use them the next time he has to bathe.”

Frodo nodded. “Very well. As for the crutches, I believe there is a pair in the mathom room. They were used once by Bilbo’s father and they should be serviceable enough.”

“Only if they fit him,” Willow said. “If they’re too tall or short, we’ll have to find a way to make them fit or get him his own pair.”

“What if they have termites?” Jolly asked. Tom and Sam snickered, and Rosie lightly cuffed Jolly on the shoulder.

“Then we’ll definitely have to get him his own pair,” Willow said, amused. “Either way, I’ll be back up to examine him before he can get on his feet.”

“So, once I can use the crutches and get up and about, can I go home?” Sam asked. “Daddy’s got a trap we can use and I know Gaffer will be happier once I’m home again.”

Willow considered the request for a few minutes before answering, “We’ll see. I want to see how you manage the crutches first before anything of the sort is attempted. I’ll leave your master with enough medicaments to last the next few days. I’ll see you on Hensday Sam.”

“Hensday?” Merry echoed and followed Willow from the room.

Frodo turned to Sam and his friends. “Don’t worry about dinner. I’ll see to the rest of it,” he said. “Have a rest and visit with Sam. That is why you came. I’ll bring in more chairs for everyone to sit.”

“I’ll do that, Mr. Baggins. We only need three more,” Tom offered and followed Frodo to the kitchen.

“I better make sure he knows what to do with the cooking,” Goldie said and left also.

Furzy and Jolly sat, and Jolly eyed Sam’s cast with longing, already thinking of the things he could draw on it. Rosie stood beside the bed and patted Sam’s arm. “You poor dear,” she said. “You must be anxious to get that cast off and back on your feet again. Does your foot still hurt?”

“Not anymore, but I think the waiting and being patient is going to be worse than the pain ever was,” Sam admitted. “But I have to do as the healer says. I’ll just be glad when I’m not here bothering Mr. Frodo no more.”

“Well, there’s nothing as can be done about that right now,” Rosie said sensibly. “Besides, the way I see it, it’s just as much his job to take care of you as it is for you to take care of him. Masters have to look after those in their service and from what all you’ve told us about Mr. Baggins, I don’t think he would consider this a burden to him. Does he?”

“No,” Sam said. “It’s just, well…”

“He’s your master,” Jolly supplied and Sam nodded. “I guess that makes sense. I wouldn’t much know about that myself, being as my master’s my pa and he has to take care of us. Ma won’t let him do otherwise.”

This earned Jolly another laugh from his friends, Rosie especially. “Yes, Jolly, he has to, even you.”

“Don’t be jealous just because I’m his favorite.”

“You wish. I’m his favorite,” Rosie said. “Fathers favor daughters.”

“No, actually, he told me just last night that I’m his favorite,” Jolly replied.

“You’re both wrong,” Tom said, coming back with the chairs, Goldie trailing behind him. “I’m his favorite ‘cause I’m his first. Parents always like their firstborns most. Everyone knows that.” He set the chairs down and everyone else took a seat.

“I have it on good authority that parents prefer their youngest children,” Goldie said, “so me and Sam are Gaffer’s favorites.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Tom said, grinning sweetly at Goldie.

“Tom please, we’re going to have to eat soon. Don’t go making us nauseous,” Furzy said, earning him a laugh from everyone, including Tom.

Rosie waited until the laughter died down then reached into her dress pocket and brought out a small box made of cherry wood, a white rose painted on the lid. She handed it to Sam. “Here you are, Sam. We got you this.”

“What is it?” Sam asked.

“It’s a box,” Jolly informed.

“What’s inside it?”

“Open it and find out,” Tom said.

Sam fingered the lid and admired the skill that went into making the box before lifting the lid. Inside, he found a small handful of seeds resting on a soft cushion of blue cotton. He looked at his friends questioningly. “What sort of seeds are these?”

“Late-blooming flowers, acanthus I think it’s called,” Rose answered. “They blossom ‘round late summer, just about the time you’ll be getting back to your duties regular-like. Furzy’s going to plant them here for you in the side garden with the other perennials. Mr. Baggins has already given his permission.”

Sam grinned happily at his friends, feeling his chest tighten as tears threatened. Their simple gesture of faith that all will go well for him meant more to him than he could ever say. He held his tears back, tightening his hold on the box in his effort to control his emotions, and simply nodded with appreciation. “Thank you, everyone. This is wonderful, truly.”

“It’s was my idea,” Jolly said and ducked just in time to miss another light tap from his sister. “Rosie helped with getting the seeds.” Tom cleared his throat. “Oh, and Tom made the box but I painted it.”

“Thank you,” Sam said again and gestured for Furzy to take the box. He shifted to make himself more comfortable and Rosie stood briefly to fluff up his pillows. When he was settled, he regarded each of his friends with fondness. “So, what all has everyone been doing?”

Tom shrugged. “Just the usual. Pa’s getting things ready for the sowing and Ma’s putting together her annual feast for the Clearing. She says there’s naught better to celebrate than seeing the stars again after so long a winter. Nick and Nibs are staying with Aunt Rose and Uncle Jasper for a spell, to keep ‘em company and help fix up the roof in that barn that’s leaking.”

Jolly grinned, and his siblings grinned back knowingly. They loved their younger brothers but having them out of the house was a relief. “Course,” Jolly said now, “that ain’t the only reason for them being off with Aunty and Uncle. As if it weren’t bad enough when Nick was just clumsy and Nibs just followed him about with his thumb in his mouth, they’re turning into right terrors they are.”

“You’re one to talk,” Sam laughed. “You’re as good a terror as I ever seen, and I’ve seen quite a few!”

“I ain’t,” Jolly defended.

“You’re not?” Furzy said, feigning confusion. He scratched the side of his head as one in deep thought. “Then it must of been someone else who put those worms in Missus Cartwright’s straw hat last summer.”

Rosie snickered. “And it must’ve been some other lad who rigged that bucket of flour over the door so’s it would tip over on Mr. Scruttle.”

“And it couldn’t of been you then,” said Sam, joining in, “who switched the salt and sugar last time you were at Number Three.”

Jolly beamed with pride at mention of his successful tricks but he did not relent on his earlier point. “I’m a tame buck compared to what Nick thinks up. Worse yet, he’s still clumsy, so when he fouls something up he really fouls it up. I fear for my safety.”

“As you should,” Sam said, pretending to admonish his cousin. “You’ve played plenty of jokes on your younger siblings over the years and they’re looking to get some payback if I guess aright.”

Goldie sat quietly beside Sam, smiling with the others at their reminiscing but with a look of growing bafflement. “I just don’t understand it,” she admitted at last. “I don’t understand all the pranking lads do. It sounds exhausting to me and that trick with the sugar and salt weren’t very nice. I’m glad Gamgees have more sense than to go about tricking each other.”

“Gamgees aren’t so quaint and proper either,” Rosie laughed. “Fred’s pulled his share of trouble while he was here and pulled even more when he moved off to Northfarthing or so I hear.”

“Ham never did such,” Goldie pointed out, “and if Sam ever did, it was only at the bidding of Mr. Baggins.”

“Hold on now,” Sam said. “Give me some credit. It weren’t always Mr. Frodo’s doing.”

“Yes, Goldie, we mustn’t discount Sam,” Tom agreed sagely. He was, after all, Sam’s very best friend and he knew the gardener better than anyone. “He’s game enough for most jokes and when he does come up with his own, they’re right brilliant.”

Furzy nodded eagerly, remembering one such prank. It was a tale that was well known amongst their small group of friends and it could even been heard whispered in the fields on warm summer days when working lads were resting from their toil. “There was that trick he played on Mr. Lotho a couple of years back. It was simple enough but it worked wonders. You see, Sam sent Robin and Tom to distract him. They pretended to not notice they was going on Mistress Lobelia’s property and it was easy enough to distract him when he saw them about to step all over the geraniums. While they were about keeping Mr. Lotho company, Sam put some sacred bark in his tea glass, slipping in and out of the garden without a hitch. At Sam’s signal, Tom and Robin ran away and Mr. Lotho just went back to his drinking and scowling. He never noticed nothing different about the tea but he was jumping up to use the privy every twenty minutes after that all the same. And he never once figured that Tom and Robin had aught to do with it. How could they have when he was yelling at them the whole while?”

“Sam!” Goldie admonished. “Why ever would you do such a thing? And to gentry?”

“He insulted you,” Sam said, “and said a bunch of things that you oughtn’t never hear about. I weren’t going to let him get away with that but I couldn’t very well say aught to him direct either. So I just watched him from a distance for a couple of days and noticed that he always took his tea outside in the garden, and I figured out what to do from there.”

“But that isn’t even the best part,” Tom said, his eyes gleaming proudly with mischief remembered. “Sam waited until the last day of Mr. Lotho’s visit. He was leaving back to his plantation in Southfarthing that very night, and Sam dosed him with enough cascara to last ‘til morning.”

“Our hero,” Furzy said and the lads erupted with laughter.

Soon the lasses were joining in, Goldie glowing with pride for her great protector. When the laughter ebbed and everyone was drying the tears from their eyes, Goldie said with mild seriousness, “You could of just told Mr. Frodo about what Mr. Lotho said.”

“He did find out a few days after Mr. Lotho left,” Sam said. “Seems Mr. Porto overhead Mr. Lotho talking with Ted about it – and it was Ted as told it to us – and Mr. Porto told Mr. Frodo. He were fuming when he heard about it and he wrote Mr. Lotho right quick, telling him he better never set foot near you again.”

“What he said couldn’t of been that bad,” Goldie said.

“Maybe not if it had been someone else who said, and if they have been kindly about it,” Jolly said, “but as it were him, well…”

He trailed off and the other lads kept quiet. She turned to Tom next. “And what did you do to protect my honor? Did you think up anything of your own?”

“No,” Tom answered. At Goldie’s pout, he stammered, “Well, we weren’t exactly courtin’ at the time, and Sam’s idea worked wonderfully, so…”

“You didn’t do anything?”

“Tell you what,” Tom said, recovering smoothly. “I’ll ride down to Sackville and box him in the nose right now if you want me to.”

Goldie smiled prettily at that and reached out to pat Tom’s hand. “I don’t want you getting into trouble just because of me.”

“‘Just because of you’ is reason enough for me,” Tom replied, just as sweetly.

Jolly gagged. “That’s it. I’m nauseous.”

“Good. More food for us,” Rosie said and everyone laughed again.

Sam’s friends stayed through tea and dinner, which Rosie and Goldie retrieved and served so Frodo wouldn’t have to. They ate, crowded into Sam’s little room, and laughed through the meals and all the time in between as they shared various anecdotes or teased each other softly.

Frodo and Merry took their tea in the parlor, reading and listening to the laughter coming from Sam’s room. For dinner, they ate in the kitchen and wondered what the friends were laughing about, knowing that if they entered the room, the friends would sober. For the first time they could remember, they felt out of place in Bag End.

“We’ll never be that close with Sam, will we,” Merry stated and Frodo didn’t have to answer. They both already knew the truth.

To be continued…