Disclaimer: Same disclaimers apply. Bitsy Bolger and Miss Underhill are my own characters, so the disclaimers don’t apply to them. That doesn’t mean you can use them without asking, though:).

AN:  I am so incredibly sorry I never posted the..uhmm..second, third and fourth chapters of this.  I don't know what got into me -- it completely slipped my mind that I was posting it here.  So, anyone who's read this in the past will get a large update.  And any new people -- hope you enjoy it.

*~*~*~*~*

Samwise Gamgee yawned as his pony loped across the meadow, ever nearer to the Havens. He hadn’t slept much over the past week of riding - not at all last night, as he drew close to his destination. Wearily scanning the horizon, his gaze froze on a lone figure standing on the still distant beach. With a gasp, Sam abruptly kicked the pony to a gallop and streaked off across the field, crying out as he went, "Frodo!"

Even at the jarring pace he was setting, it took several minutes to reach the shore, but as soon as he did, Sam tumbled from his saddle and threw his arms around his dear friend. Though the hug lasted only moments, it seemed much longer until either of them spoke. Frodo finally managed to stammer out, "S-Sam! I’m so glad you’re here!" He paused, his brow furrowed as the import of Sam’s presence hit him full force, then added, "What are you doing here?"

"I came to bring you home, Mr. Frodo!" Sam rocked back on his heels as he spoke, too excited to stand still. He stepped back a pace, looking his friend up and down as if he was checking over one of his plants, making sure it was safe and healthy.

"Bu-but..how could you know I’d be here? What made you come?" Frodo, though only just beginning to absorb the shock of this unexpected arrival, was, at the moment, less surprised than he was glad at this immediate - and very welcome - reply to his request for a sign.

"Well, that’s a bit of a long story, Frodo, and right now I’m hungrier than Fatty Bolger on one of his best days. So how about this: I’ll start to tell you as we eat some breakfast. If you can get a fire started, I’ll see what kind of food I have left. I think there’s bacon in one of these packs." Sam turned his attention to the second, well-loaded pony standing patiently behind his own. "We’d better eat a lot, because we have to make room for you on this pony," he said as he scrabbled through the various bundles. His friend watched him for a moment, trying to discern Sam’s feelings. Though he quite literally shook from excitement, he didn’t betray the least bit of surprise at their meeting. This lack of emotion only served to increase Frodo’s desire to hear his story, and, as he bent to gather firewood, he watched the other hobbit’s movements with eyes that reflected this curiosity.

As Frodo picked up the last readily available scrap of driftwood and set about arranging his collection, Sam deposited a good-sized armful of provisions on the sand. "I hope you haven’t eaten yet, because I surely can’t eat all this myself," he grinned down at Frodo, his eyes twinkling with a merriment born not from surprise, but from the fulfillment of a long-cherished hope.

"Don’t worry, I haven’t, but must you wait ‘till you’re done cooking to tell me?"

"Oh, I suppose not. I’ll begin as soon as you’ve finished building that fire, and can concentrate." Sam watched as Frodo, having made a satisfactory arrangement of the bits of wood, struck a match and in a moment had a fairish blaze crackling. He looked on expectantly as Sam, seated comfortably on a large driftwood log bleached white by the sun and full of wormholes, prepared to speak.

"Well," he said, his brow furrowing, carved by his thought as he went through his tale, sharpening his memory before beginning, "I suppose what you’re most wanting to know is why I wasn’t surprised to find you here." He didn’t bother looking up, as he knew full well the answer to this question. "It really began…well..it took me nearly a week to get here..so…nearly a month ago now. You see, one night, I had this dream…

"I was standing here at the Havens - I’ve dreamed often of being here, but this time it was different. I wasn’t waiting to depart, I was waiting for someone to arrive. As I looked out over the sea, I saw an elven ship coming up over the horizon, and…well, somehow, I knew you were on that ship. Now, when I wakened, I dismissed it. But the next night it happened again, and that morning I started to tell Rose about it. But before I could begin, she told me about the strange dream she’d had the last two nights - how she was walking down towards Bywater with Elanor and a friend of hers - a Miss Underhill, but that’s beside the point -, and telling her friend that I had gone to the Grey Havens to fetch back Mr. Baggins.

"We neither of us though much of it, decided it was just a coincidence." Sam reached to stir the fire and, depositing several strips of bacon in his well-worn iron skillet, placed it over the coals. As the meat began to sizzle, he looked up and resumed his tale. "We decided it was just a coincidence, and that was the end of it - no more dreams. For a few days. Early the next week - I think it was Tuesday -- we got up and went to wake the children, and Elanor told us…well, she said ‘I’ve just had the funniest dream! I was out walking with Mama and Miss Ellie,’ - that’s Rosie’s friend’s name - ‘and Mama was saying that Uncle Frodo was coming home! Is he, Dad? I can’t wait to meet him!’ She seemed absolutely sure that you’d be back in Bag End soon, and when we asked more about her dream, what she told us was identical to what Rose had dreamt a few days before. We couldn’t really consider it a coincidence after that… but, honestly, I didn’t know what else to do. If I didn’t have Rose and the children to worry about, I would have packed right up and come out here, but as it was I didn’t think three dreams were quite enough to warrant that." He looked up a bit apprehensively at Frodo, afraid his friend would be offended by his hesitation.

Frodo just smiled. "I understand. Now get on with it!" Sam, immensely relieved, prodded his bacon and turned it as he began once again to speak.

"Well, I didn’t think three dreams were enough to warrant this trip, but when, after that, they came back every night, I figured that perhaps I should be paying heed after all. So one evening I asked Rosie how she’d feel if I were to ride over here. She encouraged me to go, and though I didn’t really want to leave her alone with the children, I finally did. And here I am." As he finished, Sam picked up two pewter plates from the pile of cookery he’d left on the coarse sand and, transferring the contents of his skillet to them, handed one over to Frodo.

"You said it was a long story but it didn’t take all that long," Frodo commented as he watched Sam serve their meal.

"I suppose not. Well, it seemed much longer when you were living it," Sam mumbled around a mouthful of bacon. "Now that you know why I’m here, why don’t you tell me why you are?"

As Frodo recapped the events of the past few weeks, the simple meal was quickly finished and the hobbits went to work redistributing Sam’s baggage more evenly between the two ponies. The sun was high in the sky before they mounted the ponies and set off homeward, riding along in a companionable silence all that day, enjoying each other’s company without the need for words as they both adjusted to having Frodo back in Middle Earth.

That evening, while his old friend roasted tomatoes and mushrooms over a popping, hissing fire, Frodo decided that he had had enough of companionable silences, and began, excitedly, to ask questions about the events of the last seven years.

"Oh, Sam, it’s been seven years! I must have missed so much! Tell me all the news you can think of – everything! How are Merry and Pip? And Fatty? How many children do you and Rose have now? How’re the Gaffer and Farmer Cotton? And –"

"Whoa, whoa there. All right now. If you don’t stop asking questions, I’ll never be able to answer a one of them," Sam chuckled. "Where, out of all that mess, do you want me to start?"

"Start right at home, and go out from there. How are things in Bag End?"

"Well, there are four little ones in Bag End now: Elanor, Frodo-lad, Rosie-lass, and little Merry. The poor old house has never dealt with children, but it’s adjusted itself admirably. I needn’t really tell you more about the young ones – soon enough you’ll be living with them, and you’ll know them more than well enough." Sam paused, a flash of apprehension flitting across his face. "That is….unless you’ll be wanting Bag End back to yourself….Rose and I couldn’t stand to put you out of your own home."

The surprise on Frodo’s face couldn’t have been more evident if it had been written there. "I don’t want you to give me the house back! It’s yours, to do with as you please, even if what pleases you is setting fire to the insides and roasting marshmallows out on the roof." The taller, thinner hobbit smiled playfully. "Although I’m rather hoping you don’t do that."

His short friend laughed in spite of himself, then asked, "You will stay with us, then?"

"Oh yes. Nothing would please me more. But just now I want news! Come on, Sam, on with it! Now about Merry and Pip."

"All right." Sam lapsed into thought for a moment, pulling together all recent news about their friends. "Merry and Pippin are both doing wonderfully. Pip married his Diamond a few months ago – I never did think he’d persuade her to move all the way from Long Cleeve, but persuade her he did. We haven’t seen much of him lately," Sam smiled conspiratorially, then continued, "I haven’t seen all that much of Merry either. It’s just such a distance to Brandy Hall…we all three of us write, though. The last time I heard from him, he was expecting Pippin and Diamond for a visit. Say – the two of them are probably home by now, why don’t we stop by Tuckborough and visit on our way back?"

"Oh, of course, that’d be wonderful! Now go on. Fatty?"

"Fredegar married Begonia Proudfoot nea –"

"What? Little Bitsy?"

"That’s right. Nearly two years ago. They make a bit of an odd couple, big Fatty and little Bitsy Bolger, but they’re wonderful together. They’re living just down the road in Hobbiton. Now as for the Gaffer, his rheumatism’s been acting up lately, but besides that he’s doing wonderfully. He’ll be so pleased to see you again. Farmer Cotton turned over the management of the farm to Tom this spring, so he, Joly, Nick and Nibs are doing most of the work. I think Cotton’s enjoying the rest quite a bit."

As Sam paused, panting, slightly breathless from his long speech, he noticed that Frodo was listening with rapt attention evident on his face. He glanced up as Sam stopped speaking and said absently, his mind on the beloved home -- and its inhabitants -- that his friend was describing, "Surely more than that has happened in seven years."

"Well, Will Whitfoot has resigned as Mayor. Besides that, I can’t think of anything else I should tell you. Most everyone will want to tell their own news when you get back."

"That is true. So who’s the new Mayor?"

Rather to Frodo’s surprise, his friend flushed and looked away, not answering for several moments. "Ummm...I am."

"What! That’s wonderful! Why didn’t you tell me?"

"I didn’t want you to make a fuss."

"Oh, Sam, Sam. Fine, I won’t make a fuss." Frodo’s beaming grin as he said this was more than enough of a fuss for his friend, who blushed self-consciously once again and, declaring his exhaustion, stood and moved a bit away from the fire to make up his bed. He fell asleep almost immediately. As Sam’s peaceful snore’s reached his ears, Frodo, realizing how exhausted he himself was, made up a second bed and fell peacefully asleep under the brilliant stars of Middle Earth.

The next morning they started out early, trotting briskly along the Great East Road on ponies that sensed they were heading homeward. As darkness fell that evening, Frodo spotted the guard-post marking the bounds of the Shire and cried out, "Look, Sam! Home!"

"Of course it’s not home," Sam replied, eyeing his companion as though he’d gone mad, "Hobbiton’s still nearly thirty leagues away."

"No, no, not Hobbiton! The Shire! See?"

"Ohhh. You’re right! My, we’ve made remarkably good time."

Almost as he spoke they reached the post and were met by a Shirriff, who looked them up and down and then cried: "Sam Gamgee! And Frodo Baggins, if I don’t miss my guess!"

Sam squinted at the hobbit official in the fading light, then grinned in recognition. "Robin Smallburrow, if I don’t miss mine! What are you doing way out here?"

"Patrolling. My turn on the bounds is nearly up, though. Can’t say I’m sorry. So, Sam, wherever did you find this Baggins? The general opinion is that he’s long dead, but by all appearances I’d say he isn’t," Robin said, looking up at Frodo with a friendly grin. "I must say, Mr. Baggins, it’s nice to be able to welcome you into the Shire without having to arrest you."

"And it’s nice not to be arrested," Frodo returned, grinning back. As Robin and Sam chatted, he climbed from his pony and slowly, quite deliberately stepped over the border into the Shire and turned about, just in time to see the Sun disappear in the West, behind the Tower Hills.