Epilogue

Afterlithe, 1414 SR

Frodo checked the level of juice in the jug. The faintest scent of apples filled his nose, the aroma refreshing and invigorating. He unfolded the handkerchief he brought up from the cold cellar and dropped the ice chips into two tall wooden cups. Lifting the jug with both hands, he carefully poured the juice, the ice clinking against the walls of the cups as the juice poured in around it. When the cups were filled nearly to the rim, he set the jug back on the table and absently traced the garland pattern painted on its handle. His mother had given Bilbo this jug for her birthday one year, and in it Frodo had the memory of Bilbo and his parents sitting on the porch of their little house in Bucklebury, enjoying glasses of cool water on another hot summer day.

Pausing only briefly to remember that long ago day, Frodo next reached for the fruit that he had brought out from the pantry. With quick, assured flicks of his wrist, he sliced off the leafy tops of the strawberries and pulled the stems off the cherries. He separated the fruit into two wooden bowls and set the bowls and cups on a tray next to his plainest cloth napkins. Bread rolls slathered with blueberry preserve were the last addition to the tray.

“Merry! Pippin!” he called, sliding the tray off the counter and holding it out when his cousins appeared. “Take this out to Sam and Furzy for me, will you? If it’s too hot, tell them to come inside. They can finish their work after the sun passes her zenith.”

“What if they don’t want to come in?” Pippin asked, peering at the tray with longing.

“That’s why we’re going to tell them to come in,” Merry explained patiently, taking the tray from his cousin, easily keeping it steady so none of the juice spilled.

“Then why don’t we just tell them to come inside now so we don’t have to carry it outside to them?” Pippin asked, still eyeing the food.

“Because we don’t want to order them about unnecessarily. And don’t you worry, Pip. There’s plenty more where that came from,” Frodo assured, reading his cousin’s thoughts with little trouble. “I’ll set the table for us while you’re outside. Oh, and if you notice that Sam is straining even the slightest bit, he needs to come in and rest right away.”

“We’ll see to it, Frodo, have no worries,” Merry promised and nudged his chin in the direction of the front door, indicating that Pippin should go in front of him.

Pippin turned on his heel and dashed down the tunnel to the entrance hall and threw open the door. Merry followed close behind, managing the loaded tray with expert ease. He stepped out into the warm summer day and breathed in the air and sunshine as a fish breathed water. The late winter blizzard and the many spring rains had made the Shire green from one end to the other and everywhere he looked flowers were in full bloom, showing off their brilliance for all to see and enjoy. From the flowers that grew wild over the hillsides to the cultured flowers in the gardens of every smial and house, the Shire was alive with color and the sweet fragrance of the blossoms.

Pippin bounded outside, undaunted by the heat and the sun looming hotly overhead. He dashed toward the fence, where Furzy and Sam were replacing some rotted posts for new ones. Sam wore a splint on his foot, a simple piece of canvas cut to fit snug around his foot and was laced up back, with flat wooden beams sown into the fabric at either side of his ankle. Merry thought the splint had to be uncomfortable in this heat but Sam wasn’t one to complain.

Merry followed Pippin to the fence, ignoring the wave of heat that assaulted him the moment he stepped onto the porch. He felt almost as if he were stepping into an oven and he couldn’t begin to imagine how Furzy and Sam could continue to work in such weather. Already, Merry was beginning to feel drowsy and he was only carrying a tray of food.

He abandoned the sun-heated cobblestones to walk on the lawn to the fence, the cool grass a comfort to his feet. He reached Pippin in time to hear the tween telling Sam, “My cousin Ferdi once fell on his hand and now he can bend his thumb both ways. It’s really gross and astounding. Can you bend your ankle both ways?”

“Pippin,” Merry admonished, throwing an apologetic look towards Sam and Furzy, who were looking down at the lad with amusement. “Don’t go bothering Sam with your pesky questions.”

“But we didn’t get to see him yesterday,” Pippin complained. “We got here too late, remember? Do you always go home so early now Sam? It was only five when we arrived.”

“Aye Master Pippin. I got to be home by tea,” Sam answered. “Morning, Mr. Merry.”

“Good morning Sam,” Merry said and held up the tray a little more. “Frodo sends this out to you. Working under this sun all morning, I’m sure you’re both in need of refreshment.”

“Thank you kindly, Mr. Merry,” Furzy said with a bob of his head, his eyes focused on the ground at Merry’s feet.

“That’s right kind of you sir,” Sam said, meeting Merry’s smile with one of his own. “Now’s as good a time for a break as any.”

He hobbled around on his splinted foot with little trouble and took the tray from Merry. He led them to the sawhorse and sat the tray across the beam they would be cutting next. He picked up a bowl of fruit, sliding the other to Furzy. Sam bit into a strawberry nearly as big as his fist and hummed with satisfaction. Across from him, Pippin licked his lips.

“Would you like some Master Pippin?” Sam asked.

“Yes please,” Pippin said, reaching for one.

Merry grabbed his hand and held it back. “We have our own inside,” he said pointedly to the tween. He leaned over one end of the beam and looked around the garden again, enjoying the air and wind as much as the garden itself. If only if weren’t quite so hot. When he spoke next, he addressed Sam. “So, I see you’re doing better. Frodo assures me the splint is just precautionary.”

“Aye, it’s only while I work,” Sam affirmed, “and only when the work is heavy. I’ll be taking it off as soon as the fence is done and I’ve rested a little.”

He selected another strawberry. With a small nod of his head, he prompted Furzy to eat as well. The younger lad was reluctant to eat in front of his betters but he was also quite hungry, and to turn away such a generous gift would be inexcusably rude. He picked a cherry from his bowl and popped it into his mouth, refraining from biting into it until he assured himself the young masters wouldn’t mind. Then he ate more freely, but only when Sam himself ate.

“You’re not going to be crippled anymore?” Pippin asked.

“No sir. And to answer your earlier question, no, I can’t bend my ankle both ways, or I can but no more than is normal,” Sam said, chuckling at the thought. “Miss Willow is a very good healer, as is Miss Bluebell up in Long Cleeve. They took real good care of me and my ankle’s all better now, for the most part.”

“For the most part? You’re not straining yourself, are you Sam?” Merry said, looking at the gardener sharply for signs of weariness. He saw nothing other than a perfectly fit hobbit, sweating from the heat and hard work but otherwise whole and sound.

Sam shook his head but it was Furzy who answered, in his quiet and shy tones that Merry suspected were reserved for the gentry only. “No sir, he ain’t. I’m keeping a close eye on him and I won’t let him do aught he oughtn’t to do.”

“That’s good. He can’t always be relied on to take care of himself, you know,” Merry replied but he was grinning when he said it. At Sam’s bemused glare, Merry’s grin widened and he tipped the gardener a wink.

“I’m getting better about it,” Sam insisted. “Aren’t I Furzy? I take my rests when I need them and I don’t always have to be told.”

“Aye, that’s true enough. You’re better at knowing when your foot’s about to protest than I am,” Furze admitted. “But Miss Willow still had to put you back in line when you went home limping last week. Had to keep him off his foot the whole day after. Now he won’t dare step a toe out of line.”

“Is that so?” Merry asked, a note of pride in his voice at the mention of his lass. “Willow does have a way of making even the most stubborn hobbit see sense.”

Beside him, Pippin snickered but he also looked close to gagging if he had to hear Merry talk about Willow any longer than was necessary. He quickly changed the subject. “So, Sam, how was your visit to your brother? I thought he lived in Little Smithy, not Long Cleeve.”

“He lives on the outskirts of Smithy, going towards Long Cleeve. Cousin Hale lives a couple more miles down the road, between the two towns,” Sam informed. “I spent most of my time at Fred’s place, helping Goldie and Astrid with the bairn, that is when Gaffer put her down long enough for any of us to get our hands on her. The healer lives in Long Cleeve though, so we went there just about every day, me and the Gaffer, especially once my cast came off. I met some of the North-Tooks while I was there.”

“Did you?” Pippin asked, perking up. Even his parents had yet to meet any of the North-Tooks, though they kept in correspondence with the family head there. His mother kept promising that one day she would get the North-Tooks down to Tuckborough for an extended visit but with one thing or another, her dream had yet to be realized. If she succeeded it would be the first such visit in over 100 years. “What are they like?”

“Well, I only met the few,” Sam said, “but they were all grand folk. They didn’t take on airs though. They’re just as nice as you could hope and as full of hobbit sense as you can be. One as I met was the forehobbit of the shop where Fred and Astrid work, Mr. Roddy North-Took. When the bairn was born, he sent over all sorts of clothes for the lass, hand-me-downs he called them but they looked almost new and they were fancy little gowns. Fred and Ashley were afraid to use them at first, not wanting to get such nice things dirty and stained, but Gaffer pointed out they’d be wasting a gift if they didn’t and naught is worse’n that.

“At the healer’s I met a young maid named Ruby. Apparently, all the North-Took children learn to dance, just as you would learn your letters and numbers. She’s the youngest daughter of the Chief and Lady, as they call the family head and his wife up there, and she broke her wrist trying to execute some dance step or tumble just afore I got there. She was put in a cast too but she only had to wear hers for a week. The second she got it off, she bounced right out the door and over to the dance square for her lessons with her sister. I wish my ankle would heal that quick, but Miss Bluebell says as children heal faster.

“Then Halfred introduced us to Holfast, the master gardener there at Cloven Hills, that being the home of the North-Tooks. We met him our second week there and he showed us about the garden one day. We toured Fred’s shop once and saw what all he does there, making the tiles and everything. The rest of the time we were at Hale’s. He and Joy are going to be having their third child this autumn, due in Blotmath. They have two lasses already so they’re hoping for a lad this time around.

“There was also some to-do over one of the post messengers, but it’s all been settled now. How about you Mr. Merry? How’re things going with you and Miss Willow?”

“Not as well as I would have hoped,” Merry admitted. “We’re always just missing each other. I never realized how busy healers could actually get, and when we do manage to find time together, Miss Camellia always comes along and hovers.”

Sam chuckled knowingly at this. It could be frustrating sometimes when a young couple wanted to be alone and found more than enough chaperones to go around. “Miss Willow might be a healer in her own right but Miss Camellia is still her mistress,” Sam said. “She’s got to look out for her, especially as her folks are all the way over in the Far Downs.”

“She’s of age,” Merry complained but he knew that Sam was right. A chaperone’s job didn’t end until the lass was properly married.

“But you’re not,” Pippin piped up now. “Maybe Aunt Esme and Uncle Sara should come and chaperone you. Maybe then you wouldn’t always be so eager to dump me to go down the Hill and see if Willow’s at home.”

“I don’t dump you,” Merry said unconvincingly. “It’s just that I never know when she’s going to be there. Even when we do arrange to meet, if something comes up she has to go. I told you about the last time. Bairns always pick the worst times to be born.”

Pippin didn’t respond to this but it was clear for everyone to see that as far as he was concerned, that bairn’s timing couldn’t have been better.

“I just didn’t realize she’d always be so busy,” Merry repeated.

“It’s just as well, at least for this visit out,” Sam said, meaning the walking trip that Merry and Pippin would soon be taking with Frodo. They would be going to the Brockenborings to explore the caves in the hills there, after a brief stop in Overhill to pick up Fatty Bolger and Folco Boffin.

“I suppose,” Merry admitted. “We’ll be gone at least two weeks. But then Willow is leaving in a week to go home and visit her family. She won’t be back until after I’ve returned home. My parents were going to come to collect me until Willow wrote to inform me of her plans. They won’t fully approve of my courting her until they meet her.”

Furzy scrunched his brow at this and Sam said what the other lad wouldn’t. “Well, then, her folks would be wanting to meet you also, and both your folks and hers will need to meet each other,” Sam began. He saw the disillusionment in Merry’s eyes and continued more hopefully. “Don’t fret about it, Mr. Merry. When you all live so far away, there’s bound to be problems finding the time to meet up proper-like, but you’ll find a way to make it happen. And when you do all get together, it’ll be right as rain.”

Pippin wasn’t so sure about this, thinking again of his mother’s attempts to get the North-Tooks down to Tuckborough. There were simply too many things that factored into it, schedules that had to be rearranged, jobs and duties that had to be filled for the interim. Pippin couldn’t imagine a goat herder wanting to leave his herd for more than a day or two, nor could he see that Willow would have much opportunity to travel to Buckland, especially if she used her holidays to visit her family as she would want to do, and while Esme and Sara might be able to travel to Hobbiton for a day or two that didn’t mean they’d be able to go to the Far Downs as easily.

Pippin kept his thoughts to himself. He patted Merry’s hand instead, offering reassurance.

“Well, we’re supposed to have tea today,” Merry said. “So long as no other bairns decide to be born or someone doesn’t fall off a ladder and need fixing up, I should at least be able to see her for an hour.”

“Well that’s something,” Sam said.

Merry nodded gamely, then knocked on the wood post before stepping away from the sawhorse. “We better get back inside. Frodo’s waiting for us. If it’s too hot out here, Frodo says you’re both to come inside and wait until it cools off some. Furze, I can trust you to keep your eye on Sam here.”

“That you can, sir,” Furzy affirmed.

The young masters went inside. Furzy waited until the door closed before eating his food freely, watching Sam closely now. Sam wasn’t limping or straining himself yet, but he didn’t want to take any more chances. He also wasn’t keen on spending more time inside Bag End than was necessary. Mr. Frodo was a kind and easy-mannered master and he liked the fellow well enough, but the thought of sitting inside so fancy a smial with the heirs of Buckland and Tookland about made him uncomfortable. “It is getting hot,” he stated after a time. “Mayhap we better finish off this fence. Then we could go down to the Pool or the Dragon and see what the other lads are up to.”

“A pint would go down fine right about now,” Sam agreed, understanding his friend’s reservations without having to be told. He would have liked to chat with Merry and Pippin some more, but there would be time enough for that later. “I’ll have to let Mr. Frodo know afore we go.”

They finished their meal and Furzy ran the tray up to the porch, where Frodo would retrieve it later. Then they set themselves back to their task, visions of ale dancing in their heads.

The End.