*sheepishly hangs head*

[elderberrywine]

Let's see now, wasn't it six months ago that I swore that this fic would be finished any day now? My bad, folks, totally my bad.

But! Here it is, the grand finale. And just in case you want to check back on what the heck happened up until now, the other chapters are to be found here:

Chapter One may be found here: http://elderberrywine.livejournal.com/50407.html#cutid1
Chapter Two here: http://elderberrywine.livejournal.com/50555.html#cutid1
Chapter Three here: http://elderberrywine.livejournal.com/50753.html#cutid1
Chapter Four here: http://elderberrywine.livejournal.com/50985.html#cutid1
Chapter Five here: http://elderberrywine.livejournal.com/51263.html#cutid1

And one more note - apparently I have had issues with the word athelas which seems to vary in spelling from chapter to chapter - my apologies. It's more than unfortunate that it's one of the key issues in the fic. :( I'll get that cleaned up someday, I swear.

Now! Here you go!

Title: News From Bree, Chapter Six
Author: Elderberry Wine
Rating: Mature
Pairing: B/G
Word Count: 11,139
Summary: Baggins and Gamgee are forced into battle, but not all that was foretold comes to pass, a fate that causes Baggins (not to mention Gamgee) to rejoice no end. Part of the 221B Bag End AU.




The pale moon was still a sliver in the sky when we left Greyleaf’s shop, prudently through the storeroom window, at chill dawn the next morning. We found both Ned and Nob, as well as Reedborn and Bobbin, all gathered together at the back of the barn, sharing an early first breakfast. “There’ll be others joining us, but seeing as they ain’t hobbits, they thought ‘twas too early for eating,” Reedborn nodded to us, and handed each of us a mug. Whatever might be on its way, there really seemed no point in meeting it with an empty stomach, so Baggins and I joined in, making quick work of a sturdy meal of brown bread and butter, toasted cheese, apples, fried sausages, and of course, scalding tea. I pocketed a few apples and went off to check on Bill, who seemed to have recovered quite nicely from our scare of the day before.

“I’d take you with us, indeed, I would,” I murmured, as he tried to follow me out of the stall, “except I have no idea where we are going. Or what we’ll be doing there, to be quite honest, my lad. No, you’re best off here for the moment.” I swear he looked crestfallen, if a pony can be said to have such an expression, and gave a hearty snort as I left him.

There was no question regarding from whom we awaited word. The only participant from our hastily adjourned meeting of the night before who was still missing was Strider, and what he knew held the key as to what was about to occur on this bitter morning. Ned kept his counsel for the moment, only telling us that the men who terrorized Barleycorn the night before had disappeared as suddenly as they had arrived, but he thought there was fear as well as anger on their faces when it was learned that we were not to be found. It was well that we not show our faces about the inn, he instructed us carefully, but the barn was safe for the time being.

“But there are men here as well,” I could not help but mention with some trepidation, giving a quick glance about me.

Nob gave me a wry smile. “Master Gamgee, in Bree, we know there’s certain men, and there’s the other sort likewise. Those as work here can be trusted with your life, as indeed is mayhap the case this very moment. No, these lads are a good lot, and there ain’t a one as won’t do what they can, if needs be. But tell us, Master Reedborn, what say the drovers?”

“They stand with us, likewise, both hobbit and man,” Reedborn gave a short nod. “They are awaiting word from us even now.”

But even as he spoke, a young hobbit quickly made his way to us through the stalls, clearly bursting with great news. “They’re here! They’re here!” he squeaked, and Bobbin leapt to his feet in eager anticipation.

“Where, Freddy? Where are they?” he asked, touching his arm and as the young hobbit turned to Ned, I caught the resemblance and realized that this was the young cousin of whom Ned had earlier spoken.

“The cave near the big rock, Uncle Ned. The one by the road from the north. ‘Tis a wonder to behold!” his words spilling out in his excitement. “Dunedin, I don’t know how many of them! And on splendid big horses, likewise!”

“And Strider?” Ned prompted him quickly.

“At the head of them all,” Freddy confirmed, grinning broadly. “Just like an old tale come true!”

“Old tales can be dangerous ones,” Ned said slowly, giving the young hobbit a look of warning. “You’ve a task to do, first, my dear cousin. You, and Bobbin likewise,” he added, placing his hands on both of their shoulders, “must be our eyes and ears. But you must not be seen! No-one gives a young lad another look; the both of you can come and go without notice if you do not call attention to yourselves, and that is exactly what we must rely on, my lads. To the east and the south, that is where you must look for what comes. No need to worry about the north and west; if the Rangers are here, those ways are safe enough and no mistake. So station yourselves on the walls and use those sharp young eyes of yours.”

“And then what?” breathed Bobbin, clearly delighted by the importance of his role.

“Whatever you see, you came back to old Nob, here, and let him know as quick as may be. He’ll decide what is to be done then,” he added, giving the older hobbit a nod. “But mind! No one is to notice the pair o’you.”

Freddy gave a gay excited laugh, and tapped the side on his nose in response, with a conspiratorial wink at Bobbin. “As sly as the summer breeze, uncle,” he promised eagerly, and the two young hobbits were gone.

“Now then,” Ned turned next to Reedborn. “The next matter at hand is to let the drovers know the time has come to join us. Who leads them, Reedborn?”

“Cartman,” Reedborn answered without hesitation.

“Ah, that is good fortune indeed. You must give him word that the Rangers have come. They must make their way to the cave as soon as may be to meet up with Longshanks. Cartman and I have spoken on the matter already, and he will be expecting this news.” Ned stoked his chin in approval, unexpectedly the very picture of a master tactician. “I shall be sending most of the lads here, man and hobbit alike, along soon enough, but the drovers know that cave likewise, and Cartman can lead you there as well as I.”

All this while, Baggins had been standing quietly at my side, watching the proceedings carefully. “And where,” he politely cleared his throat, as Jem quickly saddled Barrel up, and prepared to depart into the snowy early morning, “might Gamgee and myself do the most good?”

“Ah, no, Master Baggins,” Ned spun around with some surprise, “Did Strider not tell you? The pair o’you ain’t going nowhere yet. You’re the bait, the both of you are, and there ain’t no sense in setting the trap until the game is in sight. You’ll be biding here with me until we hear word from Ranger or wizard. May as well be making yourselves comfortable, my good hobbits, for this day will be long indeed, and I have no doubt but you’ll be needin’ all your strength and courage by the end o’it.”


&&&&&



Before long, most of the hobbits who normally worked about the great stables were gone, and not a few of the men, as well. Not a sound came from the outside but sounded faint and far away, for the snow was falling steadily once more, and all was muffled and hushed in the dim light of the morning. It was warm and comfortable inside the vast wooden structure, however, and the soft snuffling and quiet munching of the beasts about us was undeniably comforting.

“There is a connection with those whom you expect and the athelas, is there not, Ned?” Baggins’ voice quietly cut through the silence as he stood leaning against the wall of a stall, and gazing out of the open door at the occasional snow flurry that sailed past.

“Indeed. Do you not know the old tales, Master Baggins?” Ned asked softly as he took his pipe from his pocket. “‘Tis called kingsfoil, is it not?”

“And the king?” I asked, pulling my pipe out likewise and making a seat for myself in a mound of clean hay near where Baggins was standing. If Ned felt there was enough time for a smoke, I was nothing loathe to join him, for in truth, my nerves could use a bit of settling.

“Well, that would be the Ranger, now, would it not?” Ned gave me a surprised glance, sidewise, and then shook his head with a wry smile as I tried to keep from feeling foolish at my question. “Ah, sure as they say, the Shire has forgotten much. ‘Tis not your fault, good sirs,” he added hastily as Baggins gave me an amused but kindly glance. “‘Tis an easy life for Shire folk, no mistake, but they’ve forgotten what keeps it that way. Those of us as live in less safe lands have not forgotten, no, not at all.”

“The Rangers, well, they’d be rightly called Dunedin, Men of Westernesse. It was them as brought the hobbits out from the East and gave us the Shire in which to live. It is them as makes sure that the Shire stays safe from the Enemy, still to this day. For make no mistake, gentlehobbits,” he spoke sharply, giving each of us a piercing look. “The Enemy is no tale to be scaring fauntlings with. The Enemy is not only real, but has been growing, and the Shire is in peril, w’out a doubt.”

“And you believe Strider to be the King who is mentioned in tales of old?” Baggins turned from his study of the open door, giving Ned his full attention. “And thus he and the athelas are connected?”

I wasn’t sure if I was entirely following this but took another draw on my pipe, and began to realize that my prior concept of the world outside the Shire had been decidedly sketchy.

Ned nodded. “I’ve always felt it was him. For one thing, my old dad knew him too, and said as his dad before him did likewise. But you’d never know it to look at him, now, would you? ‘Tis said there’s elf-blood in his veins, and I’d not say no. But it’s more than just that, for all Rangers are long-lived, for men, leastways. There’s just something about him, though, as gives it away, and there ain’t no place I wouldn’t follow him to, if he gave the word.”

Baggins nodded slowly. “I have felt that too, and Gamgee and I have only been briefly acquainted with him. And the athelas?”

“Generally, the Enemy relies on the Black Breath. It can freeze your heart and kill a body purely from fear, w’out a hand ever being laid on you. But their weapons, well, ‘tis said they are knives of Morgul. And what they can do to a body doesn’t bear thinking. But athelas, in the hand of the King, may be remedy against it, if given soon enough. At least that’s what the tales tell, although no mortal hobbit, nor man for that matter, has had occasion to test that, at least in living memory. Now what if the Enemy was plannin’ to attack, and they was knowin’ as there’s a king nearby? Wouldn’t it make good sense to get rid of any athelas as might be laying about first? And wouldn’t it also make sense to call for more, and get rid of that likewise, so there’d be nowhere folk could turn, when they’d really be needin’ it?”

“And so the shipments from East Farthing,” Baggins nodded. “And the sense of fear involved in the fate of those shipments, so there would likely be no more who would venture to send it, even if asked.”

Ned looked grim at that analysis. “Truly spoken, Master Baggins. And I lost some dear friends that way. I can’t imagine being frightened to death, but it happened to them, sure enough. Us folk of Bree have lived under this shadow these last long years now, and I mean to do all I can to help the Dunedin banish it for good from these parts.”

There was silence in the barn, as Ned puffed rather furiously at his pipe, and I began to sort the pieces together. But there was one piece that just didn’t seem to fit yet, and I couldn’t help but bring it up, as much as I sensed I shouldn’t like the answer at all. “You said before that Baggins and I are bait,” I drew the pipe from my mouth and studied it carefully. “Would you mind explaining that bit to me? Seeing as how we are strangers in these parts, I’m not quite sure how we have attained that unenviable position.”

“Because, my dearest Gamgee,” Baggins unexpectedly answered, settling himself down next to me on the straw, “we have been quite cleverly and specifically maneuvered out of the Shire and to Bree, is that not right, Ned?”

“Indeed.” Ned gave us a steady look. “You are not here by chance, I may assure you of that, good sirs.”

“I suspected as much,” Baggins nodded at the older hobbit’s confirmation. “I have been inconvenienced by this lot more than once, as of late, and I must say it appeared to me that there was more than one reason that Gamgee and I were asked to lend assistance upon this matter.”

“Surely you don’t suspect Reedborn of complicity, Baggins?” I glanced over at him in dismay.

“No, not in the least, but I do think it was a remarkable chain of events that led us here. If you remember that affair which involved our initial acquaintance with Reedborn, and Bobbin too for that matter, the power behind those against whom we were pitted was never entirely disclosed. Without his knowledge, it would appear that Reedborn has been maneuvered into a position where he would seek assistance, and in which he would naturally turn to us. And, of course, we would offer him that assistance and follow him to this far more isolated place. Without a doubt, they have ransacked Bag End once again in our absence, and I don’t mind admitting that I am somewhat concerned on behalf of the Widow. Indeed, I am most annoyed with myself that I did not see the larger picture until now.”

“And would you have chosen to act differently, Master Baggins?” Ned asked softly, giving him a piercing look as he did so.

“Most likely not,” Baggins gave a wry smile. “But I might have been rather more observant about certain matters. Well, there’s naught to be gained with regrets. The question is now how to use that information in the situation in which we are placed. And I must add that being bait is not an attractive position at all. There must be some sort of more useful function that Gamgee and I could be serving.”

But what that might have been was not to be a matter of debate, for at that moment, Bobbin rushed in through the open barn door, covered with a dusting of snow, and his eyes alight with a mixture of exhilaration and terror. “We seen ’em,” he exclaimed. “No more than twenty miles off. Black Riders!”

Ned wasted no time upon hearing that news. Leaving only a few of the larger men with the rest of the horses and ponies (and it was a surprise to me, I must admit, how there was no question but that he was the unquestioned leader of this band of hobbits and men), he and the rest of those present quickly saddled up, with himself on a large black pony, while Nob and another hobbit quickly prepared Bottle and Bill for myself and Baggins.

“Being on ponyback may or may not be of use,” Ned hurriedly explained, amid the general flurry of the snorts of the excited animals, the rough shouts of men and hobbits alike, and the sound of stamping hoofs, as he expertly threw himself atop the beast and hauled a wide-eyed Bobbin up behind him. “But it don’t pay to be underfoot at times like this, and there’s less of a chance o’that when you are on a pony’s back.”

With that brief illumination, Baggins and I clambered onto our ponies in a far less experienced manner, and we were out the wide door and into the dim snowy morning.


&&&&&



The pack of us turned, a block from the barn, in a direction toward which we had previously not traveled, through the streets of closed and tightly shuttered shops. It was not long at all before we had left town, and were making our way through the snow-drifted narrow roads past fewer and more humble buildings, more snowy fields and trees, and soon to hills with the thin wisps of smoke rising from the chimneys of well-buried smials. But it was hard to determine these details with the gusts of snow that nipped our noses and eartips, and blew into our faces. I was grateful to no end for the warm presence of Bill under me, and sensed rather than saw Baggins riding next to me. Clutching the pony tightly, I buried my nose in his mane, and tried not to think of what might await us.

And then I felt Bill slow under me, and I looked up to find that we were out of the town altogether, in a snowy woods, and the rest of the ponies and horses ahead of us were slowing as well. Quickly, I looked about for Baggins, and found him close behind me, as he rode up and placed a fleeting warm hand on my leg as he passed me by, giving me a brief comforting smile as he continued to ride on ahead of me. The day’s outcome might be unknown, and could hold untold danger for either of us, but there was nothing to stop my heart from feeling a instantaneous thrill of joy at that sight. There never was anything under the sun that I would not have given for the sake of that momentary private smile, and I knew he saw my heart as I returned it. Black Riders might threaten us and the very Shire itself, but I was most thoroughly loved indeed, and in the end, nothing ever mattered as much as that to either of us. Unsure as how to guide Bill, I let him do what he would, but fortunately for me, that was to apparently follow in Bottle’s hooveprints. Thus I soon found myself at the mouth of the deep cave, carved into the high sheer ledge of rock where the hills behind Bree began, and in the presence, once again, of Aragorn the Ranger.

Mounted on a fine majestic black horse, he looked every inch the king, and yet at the same time the quiet Ranger, both one and the same. Around him were other mounted men, with the same appearance of competence mixed with forgotten majesty, and I realized that I was in the presence of the fabled Dunedin. There was also a sizable contingent of what I assumed to be the local men and hobbits, and I caught a glimpse, near the outskirts of the crowd, of Reedborn, mounted on the sturdy Barrel.

I noticed Aragorn’s glance rest coolly upon me, and then warm as he noticed Baggins ahead of me. Certainly that was understandable, and I couldn’t help a bit of quiet pride in the realization that Baggins was so honored. But there was no time to dwell on that, for Aragorn raised a hand, and the crowd hushed immediately. “My friends,” he began softly, “my very dearest friends. The Enemy is close at hand, and the day we have known was coming has at last arrived. Let us unite, man, hobbit and dwarf together.” With a start, I realized that there were indeed a few dwarves mixed in the crowd, their beard-covered faces solemn and just as somber as the rest of the audience.

“The Enemy is powerful indeed, but we are more so, for there is loyalty, trust and our love for our comrades, and those who depend on us, to be found on our side. The weapons of the Enemy are mighty, but our hearts are mightier still. Let not one of us regret that on this day, a day of which our children and grandchildren will speak for many years hence, that we did not give everything we had for the sake of those who look to us, and for those yet to come as well. Hate and fear have but momentary power, if we let them, but if we are strong, if we are resolute, if we look to each other for courage and sustenance, then the final victory must be ours. Let us drive them forth back to whence they came, my dearest comrades, let us banish them forever from our lands! Forth, free peoples of Middle Earth! Tomorrow shall be ours, if we but trust in ourselves!”

A mighty roar burst forth at the Ranger’s words, and I felt my heart swell with an uncharacteristic thrill of pride and exhilaration. With a shiver of excitement, I looked over at Baggins, on Bottle next to me, and saw that his eyes were aglow and his mobile features vibrant. In the midst of the heedless crowd, he rode closer to me, and stretched his hand out to mine. “Samwise, my dearest Sam,” he murmured, grasping and holding my hand tightly. “Whatever may come, my beloved, this is what must be done. What must come, will come. But I need to tell you, once more, that I love you with all my heart.”

“Forever yours, my own Frodo,” I breathed, fixing those beloved features faithfully in my memories, and hardly able to speak with the intensity of my emotions as I held his hand tightly and brought it to my breast. “Always and forever yours, come what may.”

But the time for words had passed and the horses and ponies, and men and hobbits and dwarves, surged forward. The Battle of Bree had begun.


&&&&&



It was the men we saw first, the very same men who had been the neighbors and allies of the ill-fated Bill Ferny. As we rode through the sparse pines, on the snow covered rough paths, they silently rode out from their neighboring farm, hard-faced and sneering, with axes and rough swords in hand. “Aye, ride on, ye maggots,” a tall man harshly cried, and I recognized, with dread, the man whom had stood with Ferny the day I acquired Bill. “There’s hardly enough o’ye to matter, and we’ll see how you like the helpings you’ll be gettin’ when our masters are come.” With foreboding, I realized that they were not by any means attacking or harassing us, but rather, one might almost say, herding us forward. But Aragon was in the lead, and Baggins was directly in front of me, and I concentrated solely on that.

Their expressions changed, however, when they caught sight of the Dunedin following at the rear of our forces. With a low inadvertent whistle, I saw one of the farmers turn to one of his mates, and mutter, with not a little fear in his voice, “They’d not be tellin’ us the Rangers are come.”

With a growl, his comrade quickly disguised his own momentary fear, and hissed angrily at him, “What of it, ye fool? Have we not taken care of one of them already? ‘Tis but a man, when all is said and done.”

“’Twas at least a dozen of us an’ only one of him, an’ we still barely managed it,” his friend mumbled stubbornly, but I heard no more as we left the pair, glowering fiercely at all of us, at the side of the road.

The road seemed endless, and I had no idea where we were or where we were bound but there seemed to be more and more men grimly staring at us, and surly hobbits as well, the longer we rode, and I suddenly realized that their forces were much greater in number than ours. I glanced up into the grey cold sky, the sun now a dull red glow behind the clouds, and was unexpectedly stuck by the notion that this must be the most improbable place in all of Middle Earth for the son of Hamfast Gamgee to meet his end, lost in a hopeless skirmish in an impossible war in a far away land. The sheer ridiculousness of this notion was too much for my nerves, I suppose, and I couldn’t help suddenly laughing out loud.

Baggins turned Bottle around at that sound and rode to my side, his eyebrow raised inquiringly, but with a smile on his lips.

“I’m sorry, Baggins,” I tried to explain, shaking my head. “This just seemed so very unlikely, all of a sudden. But aren’t we really just a pair of simple hobbits from the Shire? However did we end up in this tale?”

Baggins’ smile deepened then, and he brought Bottle up next to Bill. “Samwise the Brave,” he murmured. “I don’t think that sounds very unlikely at all.”

“Only as long as he’s accompanying Frodo the Fair,” I retorted, and Baggins threw his head back and laughed as well.

“Then, my dearest Sam, we must manage to get through this,” he eyes sparkled with an improbable merriment. “Such wondrous titles should never go to waste. We must make sure to get back to the Shire and subtly let the story get around.”

One of the men walking near us shook his head as he listened to our exchange, an irrepressible smile on his lips as well. “Hobbits,” he muttered with amusement.

“’Tis but our way, good sir,” I bowed as best I could atop Bill.

“An’ ‘tis a fine way indeed, to my manner of thinking,” he chuckled as he returned the bow. “May we all live to enjoy each other’s company for many years to come.”

But there was no more time for conversation, since the cover of trees was becoming more and more sparse, and I could see a rocky plain ahead of us. We had been most effectively led to this place, and it remained to be seen how we would leave it.


&&&&&


It seemed nearly at first as the long-off wail of the wind, but the effect on our ponies and horses was unmistakable, and many of our foe gave an uneasy shudder as well. “Black Riders, and not far off,” breathed Aragorn, his face drawn with a grim foreboding, and then he was suddenly issuing orders in a stern but steady voice. “Ned, take the main force of hobbits to the rocks beyond,” he commanded, as Ned gave a curt nod. “I well know the skill of your folk with rocks. Let them fly at those of Bree who oppose us, however. They are of no use against the Riders, but whatever you may do to distract and harry those who stand with them will be most useful.”

“And you, my dwarven brothers,” he then turned to the small but formidable group standing to the side, “Use your axes well. Build us a great bonfire, and as hastily as possible. The Riders are not mortal, but their horses are, and fire is one of our best weapons. Drovers and free men of Bree, protect us from the rear, and guard the bonfire as well. Remember all! Avoid the sting of the swords of the Riders at all cost! There are fates worse than death, my friends. My brothers and I will ride forth to challenge, and I would prefer friendly swords at our backs.”

The keening cry of those who came was growing ever louder, but the Ranger paid it no mind, as he gave both Baggins and myself a thoughtful look. “Somehow, for reasons that I don’t entirely understand, the both of you have become central to the desires of the Witch King and his master. I dare not chance their laying their hands on the both of you, but since you both have mounts, stay with the men for now and fall back to the hobbits if needs be.”

The rude mutterings and curses of the surrounding rabble were growing louder and more confident, as Aragorn and his fellow Dunedin circled around each other, quietly reviewing their plans. The dwarves had lost no time in their task, and the fire had sprung crackling into the frosty air as the Rangers each grasped a mighty staff from those offered up by Ned and his hobbits, and plunged them into the fire. Slowly, almost nonchalantly, they rode forward, burning staffs held aloft in one hand, and their other hand resting lightly on the hilts of the long swords still tucked into their scabbards. Their great horses had no need of the guidance of reins, but snorted, and pawed at the ground, and showed no sign of fear.

And it was well that they did not, for the first of the Black Riders appeared through the edge of the clearing, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more fearful sight. They seemed immensely tall, with flowing dark tattered robes, and were mounted on black horses that nearly seemed as much machine as animal. Their faces were hidden, a fact for which I was most grateful. The grating, keening howl that came from under their hoods was so terrifying that I nearly felt frozen in place, much like the trembling mouse who watches the swoop down of the hawk and knows there is no place to which he can run. Even our foe who stood with them seemed to be every bit as much horrorstricken as were we, and no one or thing moved in all this ghastly tableau save the Riders and the Dunedin.

It was then that Aragorn, riding at the front of his comrades, lifted high his fiery brand and commanded, “Begone, foul spawn of Sauron! These lands are under our protection, and we will not suffer you to stay!”

With a horrible cackle, the leader of the Riders, the Witch King himself, responded with a jeer, seemingly, in an extraordinarily repellent way, amused, “Do the Rangers think themselves so high these days?”

“Perhaps you and your master forget who I am,” Aragon responded coldly. “I am Aragorn son of Arathorn, King of the Men of the West, the King from over the Sea, and these lands are mine.” And with a mighty cry, he raised his torch high, and abruptly galloped forth, leading the charge against the Witch King himself, the rest of the Dunedin likewise following behind him.

But there was an instant response from the forces allied with the Riders, as if this sudden attack had startled them into wakefulness, and the grim horde charged towards all of us. The men of Bree, and not a few dwarves, raised their knives and axes as well, with an answering bellow, and the battle was on.


&&&&&


The forces were greater on their side, but I could see that Aragorn had cunningly distributed our troops so that they could do the most damage on our enemy. The men from Bree who stood by us grimly made a bloody impression on those who attacked, backed both by the fire in our midst, and the deadly hail of stones coming from the surrounding hills. I was not in the least surprised by the accuracy of the stones the hobbits let fly, for accuracy is prized by our folk above all, but I was startled by the deadly force with which they hit, as I saw large men fall in their tracks, dead from a single clout, and I fleetingly realized that outside of the Shire, this was not just the means of picking off a plump coney or two.

Baggins and I, mounted on our ponies, kept to the midst of the men, and it was with quiet satisfaction that I realized that we could keep pace with them. It was a grim business indeed, hitting men and even an occasional hobbit, with the short swords that we had been given, and I tried very hard to block out the thought that I was using my weapon to a bloody purpose, although I must admit that I did try to wound rather than kill when at all possible.

Wave after wave of grim men seemed to come our way, and it was only from the ghastly shrieks of the Riders that I was forced to remember that the battle was bigger than merely what Baggins and I, side by side, faced. The snow had begun to fall once again, and the whole affair settled into a hideous, frozen and bloody nightmare. My sword arm was beginning to ache and my legs had been scraped and sliced half a dozen times, and worst of all, I knew that Bill had not gone entirely unscathed as well. Things did not seem to be going our way, I was beginning to dimly grasp, as there seemed to be less and less of us, and more and more of them, attacking us. I knew Baggins was at my side even without looking, and that was my only ragged consolation in this horrendous dream into which I seemed to have fallen.

It was the unearthly howl, unlike anything I’d ever heard before, that finally stopped me cold. A deadly Rider was riding straight at me, sword lifted high. But it was not from him from whence the howl came. I was stricken motionless, staring at him in a hopeless bewilderment, when there was a sudden rush past me, and numbly I realized that unlooked for assistance had at last come to us. For it was the wizard Radagast who swept past me, mounted on a great dark horse. And at his heels, in countless numbers, came running a great pack of fierce grey wolves, howling eerily and baring their fierce fangs. Not only were the enemy’s troops about us taken aback by this unearthly menace, but the Riders’ mounts themselves stepped back in terror, ignoring the shrieked imprecations of their masters. With a weary grin, I looked about for Baggins, but as my eye caught his, a last Rider dashed past me. His sword was held high, and he was headed straight for Baggins. With a shriek of fury that probably rivaled theirs, I kicked Bill into a startled gallop, and threw the both of us into his path. I caught a last glimpse of the horror on Baggins’ face as I felt pain suddenly explode in my thigh, and my world instantly went black and cold beyond all belief.


&&&&&



There was nothing I knew but that black and the cold. Blacker than the darkest night ever, and so cold that ice and snow and the deepest of winters were never nearly naught to compare. I was alone in my torment, hopelessly alone, and I felt my heart nearly break in despair. And then, somehow, I managed to open my eyes.

And he was there. Frodo, my dearest, my most beloved. He was bending over me, and his expression of unmistakably frightened apprehension altered immediately as he saw my eyes flicker open. With an incoherent cry, he turned briefly to someone at his side, and cried, “Aragon, he awakes!” Then he turned back to me, and the look of mingled trepidation and yearning with which he met my confused gaze was so naked that I opened my mouth to speak, but could utter nothing more coherent than a low moan. He raised my hand, clutched tightly in his, to his mouth and kissed it, entirely heedless of who might see, but I could not feel his touch nor his lips and that terrified me beyond all else.

But then Aragorn was suddenly within my field of vision as well, and although his face was streaked with dried blood and unmistakably weary, his smile was genuine and his regard was warm. “And here is our brave warrior come back to us,” he murmured. “You have done well, my valiant hobbit. Take heart, for there is athelas here and those who love you. Sleep well, Samwise, and you will awaken to better times.”

With that, there was the distinctive odor of the herb, and I felt the deadly cold begin to ease. With a last look into Frodo’s eyes, I closed my own, and fell into a deep sleep.


&&&&&



The next time I opened my eyes, I knew at once that I had been moved, although I know not how or where. But I was somewhere warm, and I was lying on something comfortable, and suddenly, with incalculable joy, I realized the bitter cold that had enveloped me was no more. And there was Frodo, once again, as my eyes fluttered open, and this time I could feel my hand tightly held in his. I know I smiled, and he returned it, heartfelt, but with a start I realized that I could see the trace of dried tears upon those fine cheeks of his. “Frodo,” I murmured, without any thought but to speak that beloved name once more, and suddenly his arms were around me, and I was raised and held tightly to his breast, and I heard his ragged voice in my ears with a startling combination of reprimand and only partially concealed tears, “Oh, Sam, never do that again, my dearest love. You are an unutterable fool, you do know that, my beloved, do you not?”

I know that I looked at him in total bewilderment, as he gently laid me back on the bed on which I found myself, but my thoughts were far too hazy to consider the matter any further. I contented myself to clinging tightly to his hand, which I had found wrapped fast about mine, and smiled back at him once more. Whatever this was all about could be resolved later, but for now, I felt supremely and miraculous happy. Once again, I fell back into a deep sleep.


&&&&&



The next time I awoke, I found myself sleepily staring at an odd gathering all seated about a cozy fire. The location, I drowsily recognized, was our room at the Prancing Pony. I was in bed, and for the moment, quite comfortable indeed. But, seated before the sitting room hearth, was a peculiar assemblage indeed. Baggins, of course, and Aragorn as well, but also Ned, Reedborn, the wizard Radagast, and perhaps the most surprising of all, Greyleaf, the herbalist. They were conversing quietly and as my thoughts began to collect themselves, I found that I was suddenly immensely curious as to what had been occurring as I had been unaccountably napping the hours away. I stirred, thinking to prop myself up, but as I did so, a bolt of hot pain swept through me, and I know I gave an involuntary yelp.

Of course, that drew everyone’s attention to me in an instant. Frodo flew to my side immediately, and I do not deny that the warmth in his eyes, and his firm and tender embrace, as he helped me raise myself into a sitting position, were the best sort of medicine I could ever want. But the others surrounded me as well, and I began to sense that they seemed to feel my return to consciousness was a triumph of some sort, a not entirely reassuring realization.

Greyleaf, who appeared to be far more tidy and sharp-eyed than the last time I had seen him, studied me carefully and then gave a satisfied nod. “The athelas has done the trick; indeed it has,” he pronounced, giving Aragorn a triumphant look.

“Athelas?” I muttered with not a little confusion. “I thought there was none of that stuff about. And what the devil has happened to my leg?”

“It seems that Master Greyleaf is responsible for the former,” Baggins gave the herbalist a thankful nod as he unobtrusively tightened his embrace, to my still rather befuddled delight.

“Well if that many folk want something that desperately, it seemed to be a good idea to hold onto a bit of it,” Greyleaf gave crafty grin. “’Tis but good hobbit sense, say I.”

“Without a doubt,” Aragorn nodded with approval, “and it was fortunate indeed that you did so. Indeed, Samwise Gamgee,” he slowly smiled, “you have proved to be a remarkable hobbit in so many ways. It seems that you have survived the cut of a Morgul blade with no worse consequences than possibly a bit of a permanent limp. I must say that I have never imagined that to be possible.”

“Nothing to be feeding on.” With a gravely murmur, Radagast, who still remained seated by the fire, raised his pipe slightly and nodded, as the smoke swirled obediently about his weathered and battered brown hat.

“Indeed,” Aragorn agreed, still studying me carefully. “I have always suspected that the Morgul blade feeds upon an inclination to power and pride, as well as a desire to glorify oneself. And quite fortunately for you, Samwise, you appear to have very little in the way of these tendencies. In addition,” and he gave a quick glance towards Baggins as he continued, “you met the blade in the act of self-sacrifice for one whom you loved. That is the sort of motivation which Sauron and his minions will never be able to understand. But there will be time to discuss these matters later, for there is no medicine that will heal you faster now than rest. Come, my dear friends and comrades, let us retire. There will be time to decide what is to be done next on the morrow, but for this night, such questions are not what matters.”

And within moments, they had all left, and Frodo and I were alone.


&&&&&



I suppose it was the healers’ instinct, but my first act upon our finding ourselves alone was to fling the covers off and try to determine why my leg felt as it did. To pronounce it uncomfortable would be an undeniable understatement. It was freezing cold, it was burning hot, it felt as though a perfect army of ants had invaded it beneath the skin, and I was determined to put an end to this nonsense as soon as possible. And I must admit that the gloomy forecasts as to the fate of one hurt in this manner had me undeniably anxious. As is true for many a healer, I must guiltily admit, I never dreamed that any hurt of consequence could ever come to me, but it seemed as though it had.

Frodo was silent, but assisted me in drawing back the covers and undoing the bandaging, knowing very well what was on my mind without me having to trouble him by expressing it in words. At least this injury had the decency to have occurred in an area that was visible to me, and I examined it with great care and not a little apprehension.

The skin of my thigh had been sliced open, but the open cut was already beginning to crust over, and although it began to bleed slowly once the bandages were removed, it was at a thankfully slow pace, and I knew that once I wrapped it tightly up again it would stop. The skin around the wound did not show any angry steaks of red or black, and with great thankfulness, I realized that it was not infected. So far, all was well, but there was something about the injury that troubled me. There was a dead and knotted aspect to the flesh surrounding the wound and that, along with the throbbing pain that seemed to be centered at the core of my leg, gave me pause.

“There is something devilish about this, Frodo,” I could not help but murmur, and he nodded, and regarded me with an unreadable expression.

“By all accounts,” he said slowly, “you should currently be a thrall of the Witch King, and yet you are not, and what’s more, are showing no indications of ever becoming such. Both Aragorn and Radagast have apparently never seen the like, and they are not entirely sure as to how to explain the matter. But I think I know you just a bit better than they do.”

He lifted his hand at this point and laid it gently on my face, tenderly cupping my cheek. I turned into his touch without thought, and kissed the palm of his hand lovingly. “And this is what I mean,” he breathed, his voice falling into a hushed whisper. “How could a heart as true as yours, as essentially good as is yours, ever fall into evil?” I felt his hand slide slowly across my cheek, down the side of my neck, and grasp the back of my head as he leaned forward, and his lips met mine.

All of a sudden, nothing else mattered. My leg was an inconvenience at the most, and at the best an affair that could be entirely set aside for the moment. For I had Frodo in my hungry embrace, his delicious lips once again upon mine, and what else could possibly matter in the least other than that? With a yearning sigh, I fell back against the pillows, and drew my hands ravenously up his lithe back. “Frodo, oh, Frodo,” I moaned, as our lips parted for the moment, and he needed no further encouragement than that.

“Sam, my very dearest Sam,” he sighed in return, and that was end of conversation, at least of the verbal sort. To the end of my days, there was never anything else that ever was the least bit of importance to me when I held that precious form in my longing arms. Time was lost and I fell into that state of bliss that knew no boundaries, no restrictions, no limits. He was mine and I was his, and there was nothing else that signified in the least. It wasn’t until much later, as I lay on my side with Frodo cozily tucked behind me in spoon-fashion, that I realized that my leg had not pained me in quite awhile.

But when I drowsily mentioned as much to him, I heard his rueful murmur of acknowledgment soft in my ear. “I wish I could take away the pain forever, my dearest, but if I can for even a little while, I suppose that’s something. I’m just so very glad to be able to still hold you in my arms; I can’t begin to tell you.”

“Mmm,” I mumbled happily. “You certainly have a restorative touch, Frodo dearest. I could never ask for a better healer than you.” His arms tightened around me, and I snuggled happily back into them and was soon fast asleep.


&&&&&



We set off for home only a couple of days later, and I could not help but think the bright sun and brilliant blue sky that broke out from behind the grey clouds was not entirely a coincidence. There was only the two of us, and Bill, the best purchase I ever impulsively made. Reedborn and Bobbin had stayed behind along with, of course, Barrel and Bottle, to negotiate a promising new trade initiative between Bree and the Shire. Greyleaf had cast off his dusty and reclusive former self without a thought, and he and Ned had put their heads together on the matter of bringing some desired goods back to Bree. Athelas, of course, was at the top of the list, but it was discovered that there were many other goods from the Shire that had gone missing for far too long, and Reedborn entered into a pact with his allies, the drovers, to remedy that situation forthwith. Braeborn’s apples, it might be added, also figured prominently on that list, and I was glad that we could compensate our former host in some small way for his hospitality that bitter winter night.

Walking for any distance was, unfortunately, still quite impractical as far as I was concerned, but I was determined that we should make our way back to Bag End as soon as was possible. It would be a journey of several days, for I couldn’t manage any sort of cart either, but I felt that between Bill to carry me, and Baggins at my side, we should eventually reach our destination in a series of small stages, and however long it took, it was preferable to remaining in Bree one more day. I don’t believe I quite presented my feelings in this way, but I had no doubt but that Baggins knew exactly where I stood on the matter, and was completely in agreement with me.

Baggins had been uncharacteristically silent during the preparations for our journey, and even that first morning, as we made our thankful way out of the weathered wooden gates that faced the Great Eastern Road and turned our faces west, he remained so. I was having a difficult time reading his mind, not the least of which reason being that my attention had been preoccupied in discovering the best angle at which to be seated on Bill, in order to lessen the pain of my leg. So I suppose I was equally as uncommunicative. The road on which we found ourselves was, despite the improving weather, still a maze of icy puddles, thawing snow drifts, and mud, and I encouraged Bill to take as much time as he desired to make his way through it.

Thus we were still within sight of the scattered smials that comprised the outskirts of Bree when I grew impatient with my uncomfortable perch and felt a sudden longing for a mug of hot tea, and to be quite frank, Baggins’ arms about me. I was also starting to become more than a bit perturbed regarding his silence, and felt it might be prudent to investigate its cause. That is, if he would let me. Never was a hobbit a tighter nut to crack than Baggins when he chose to be so. But those days had not been as frequent these past couple of years and I was determined to use my skills to see what could be done about it.

So I gave an only partially feigned groan, and abruptly declared, “Baggins, this is going to be a long trip indeed. Blast this leg anyways. I would give more than I could say for a hot drink, and a bit of rest. And if you managed to pack any brandy in our parcels somewhere, I certainly wouldn’t say no to a drop of it.”

He started up at my words, as though his thoughts had been far away, and gave me a rueful smile. “Of course, my dear, how inconsiderate of me. I didn’t even check on you.” Stretching up a strong hand to help me down, he continued, “And even Bill, as wonderfully as he has filled out in these last few days, could stand a break or two. Do keep me in line, won’t you?”

“Someone certainly has to,” I commented lightly, as I accepted his assistance with gratitude and stiffly led Bill off the road to a bit of browned grass that had been revealed by the melting snow. “It might be a little early, but I could do with some elevensies, or possibly even lunch. You wouldn’t happen to see anything that we could manage a fire with, do you?”

The wood was unavoidably wet, and took forever to catch the tinder’s spark, but at last we got a fire started, a pot of snow on it to melt into hot water for tea, and I produced some dried apples to help convince Bill that this excursion had some benefits after all. Baggins rummaged through our packs, and found bread, cheese, onions, and even a bit of pickle, which he melded together over the fire into a delectable meal. I found the brandy. And soon enough, we were comfortably seated nestled together in the relatively dry shelter of a thicket of juniper, our stomachs enjoyable full, and the warmth of the brandy and tea coursing through us. Perhaps it was that beverage that suddenly gave me the courage to speak as I did.

“All right, Frodo, out with it,” I announced gruffly, settled as cozily as I was at his side, his arm firmly around me, gazing quite consciously not at him, but the snow-glazed pines all about us, and Bill contently snuffling through the partially uncovered frost-bit grass. I could feel him stiffen slightly for a moment, and then reluctantly give out a stifled sigh.

“You know me too well, don’t you, my dear,” he murmured, and it wasn’t a question. He bowed his head, and I let him be, knowing that he was marshalling his thoughts. “They were so convinced,” he said at last, speaking so quietly I could scarcely hear him. “Not a soul alive could withstand the Morgul blade. That was how the Riders were created, you know. That was how the Dark Lord collected his followers. All it took was a cut of the knife. And even athelas, of which there was none at the time, as far as we knew, was no remedy. And I watched the blade slice into you, as you intercepted the Rider who was coming at me, and there was no way to prevent it.”

There were several moments of silence then, and I waited with my heart in my throat. I knew that I had been insensible for at least a day or so at that point, and I had never really gotten the particulars. But then he continued, his voice now unmistakably ragged.

“I was so terrified, Sam, you have no idea. But I watched you fade in and out of consciousness and it still seemed to be you. Greyleaf revealed that he still had some athelas, and Aragorn brewed a concoction to use on you, and yet we still did not know. I lay in bed next to you at night, Sam, and held you, and called to you, and you did not answer me. And I thought that if they were right about it, and if I lost you forever to such a horror, I did not know, or even cared, what would become of me. For I never would have left you, my beloved, not even then. Especially not then.”

I bowed my head, and tightened my grasp on his hand, and for a moment, neither one of us trusted ourselves to speak. But then he continued.

“And somehow, it did not happen. No one quite understood why, not even Radagast. But you remained Samwise Gamgee, hobbit of the Shire, and did not pass into the shadows.”

I gulped back my fear, and murmured, “I suppose I was not the sort they were looking for.”

“Indeed,” Baggins replied softly, his face entirely serious as his eyes steadily met mine. “Or more likely, the sort they did not understand. Perhaps, with nothing that could be used to induce you to their side, the Morgul blade did not work as intended. I am quite sure I would not have been as fortunate.”

“What rubbish,” I responded warmly to that last comment, impulsively reaching over and drawing his mouth to mine for a thorough kiss. “We are alike in more ways than we are not, Frodo Baggins,” I spoke nearly sternly when I was at last able to do so. “I am not the only hobbit they would have been unable to seduce; I am certain of it.”

“I wish I could believe that,” he smiled uncertainly back at me.

“Well, I most decidedly do, and I’ll have no more doubt from you, my dear. Now, if you’d just give me a hand, Bill seems to be wandering a bit too far, and we probably should try to at least make our way past the Bree town limits by nightfall if we ever hope to see Bag End again.” And I stiffly rose up with renewed determination.


&&&&&



I found, as the next few days went by, Baggins more and more inclined to speak of what I had missed, on that fateful afternoon. It was a combination of the fire and the unexpected wolf attack that turned the balance in our favor, apparently. The Riders’ mounts could not withstand the double onslaught, and without their mounts, the Riders were strangely powerless. They withdrew and then retreated, and left the rest of their troops in shambles. Ferny had been, we later found out, the mastermind of the man-hobbit coalition that had kept Bree in thrall for so long, and without his leadership, the rest fell into squabbling and demoralized factions who could not present any sort of united front without the Riders to back them up.

And not surprisingly, Ned turned out to be the figure to whom more and more hobbits and men alike turned, and between Aragorn and him, the restoration of Bree was well underway by the time we had left.


&&&&&



Nearly two weeks later, we found ourselves on the lane that led up to the front of our smial. The weather had remained relatively clear even though cold throughout our journey, and it was under a brightly blue sky that I finally saw our dear round green door. “Oh, Frodo,” I sighed with feeling, halting Bill in his tracks. “I never thought to see this sight again.”

“I must admit I had my doubts as well, my dearest,” Baggins smiled up at me, and laid a gentle hand upon my leg, “and yet here we are. Gone and back again indeed.”

I smiled down at him and then as I realized my position, another thought struck me. “Bill!” I exclaimed. “Goods heavens, Baggins, what are we to do with the pony?”

Baggins gave a merry laugh. “Why, startle the Widow Rumble with him, of course! As much as you have spoiled that pony, and entirely justifiably, I might add, I’d be surprised if you didn’t want to put him up in the back guest room.”

“Not a bad suggestion,” I grinned as I clambered off of his back, much less stiffly these days. “But I think Bill might find it just a bit confining. I suppose Tom Cotton’d be willing to put him up for awhile – he has that back shed that he wasn’t using last I checked, but we must have a stable built by spring, Baggins, my love.”

“As you wish, my – ah, but here is the inestimable Widow herself,” he interrupted himself, as she bustled out of the front door and stopped short, giving a startled screech, although whether it was directed at the unexpected pony, or Baggins and myself, I was not quite sure. She collected herself quickly enough though, and then launched herself at the both of us with a perfect flurry of frantic scoldings for worrying her so by disappearing for weeks on end and exclamations of thankfulness for our safe return. I felt her perceptive eye fall on me in particular, and knew my changed condition had not gone unnoticed, and I would be called upon to, at some point, give her a full account.

But for the moment, there was too much for her of which to take immediate account, so she quickly offered to lead Bill over to the Cottons’ for his temporary lodging, and collect up a few odds and ends to make us a proper tea. Frodo accepted her first proposal on Bill’s behalf gratefully, but demurred on the rest.

“My dear Widow, for the moment, I think that both Gamgee and I are looking forward to nothing as much as a hot bath, a hot pot of tea, and the prospect of a decent bed tonight at last. I do believe that we can manage those on our own, although if you wished to treat us with some of those delicious cream scones that you do so well tomorrow for second breakfast, I would be more than grateful.”

“Oh, certainly, Mr. Baggins, you both must have had a weary time of it indeed. Any little thing I can do to help, you’ve but to say the word.” And true to her assurance, we were immediately treated to the unusual spectacle of a wary pony, and a short stout hobbittess holding the business end of the rope attached to his bridle, confronting each other for the first time, both equally unsure of where they stood with each other. I quickly dug the last rather bedraggled carrot out from the bottom of my pack and handed it to her. Bill gave me a quick look, and then sniffed the carrot with interest, as she held it out uncertainly to him. With a dainty dexterous movement, he snatched it out of her hand and ate it with a snort of approval.

“Ah, you’re a good lad, you are at that,” she clucked with approval, giving him a firm pat. And in no time the both of them disappeared over the hill to the Cottons’ farm, in the ruddy glow of late afternoon, and I turned to Baggins.

“A bath. You distinctly mentioned something about a hot bath,” I announced firmly. “I certainly hope you weren’t toying with me on that prospect.”

“Then it is fortunate that our tub is large enough for two, now, isn’t it, Gamgee?” His eyes sparkled as he regarded me with a wicked grin. “How fast do you suppose we can get the kettle to boil?”

“Not nearly soon enough,” I answered, answering his grin with an equally wicked one of my own. “But it won’t boil at all if we are standing out here.”

And without another word, we were not.


&&&&&



The bright icy light of a full moon shown into our bedroom window not long after. We had taken quite a lengthy bath indeed, and needless to mention, a leisurely soak was not the chief goal either of us had in mind. But at last, the water had gone cold, and our stomachs had begun to rumble. So we had made a quick raid on the larder, always thoughtfully kept full by the Widow, and had stolen back to our room with the spoils and a much anticipated bottle of old Winyards. And now, feeling deliciously warm inside and out, and contented in every possible manner, we lay sprawled, both quite bare, atop the coverlets of our dearly familiar bed, comfortably and happily entwined.

“How much I miss this when we are not here, my dearest Sam,” Frodo murmured, running a slow hand down my side. “And yet, and yet. . .”

“You will be horribly bored inside of a fortnight, if no one turns up with a desperate tale,” I finished his confession, laying my hand atop of his. “I know, dearest. It’s who you are; there’s no disputing that. No fretting, Frodo. I knew full well with whom I was falling in love.”

“But this time,” and his eyes were suddenly troubled as he turned his face to mine and reached up to the side of my face. “This time it could have been so much worse than I could ever have imagined.”

“And yet it was not,” I rested my forehead against his and raised my hand to clasp the top of his. “I’m still not sure of the reasons for that, but if I’ve ended up with nothing more than a limp out of the whole affair, I count myself very well off indeed. Not too mention acquiring a pony. Pippin will be most impressed.”

“You do dote on that animal, don’t you,” his voice was still low, but a slow smile crept across his face, as he met my lips with his.

“Not nearly as much as I dote on you, Frodo-love,” I breathed warmly, as soon as I could, and folded myself closer against him.

“You truly do, don’t you, Samwise,” His voice was slightly tremulous and his eyes were dark in the moonlight as his other hand caught me fast about the waist.

“Always have. Always will. And why are we still talking, Frodo-love?”

With a joyous laugh, he deftly rolled me over and pinned a very compliable me, in the most delectable fashion, to the covers. “Because it makes me blissfully happy, my beloved Gamgee. And let me show you what else does.”

The Widow’s scones went untasted until very late the next morning.


&&&&&



It began to snow again the next day, but I could not have cared less. I was on the settle in the study of Bag End, well wrapped in a warm rug, and my leg had hardly given me a twinge at all since we had come home. I was attempting to jot down some of the particulars of our adventure, but I must confess that I was spending more time alternately staring absent-mindedly into the cheery fire in our homely hearth, and dreamily gazing at Baggins’ profile, sitting as he was next to me on the settle, clearly lost in thought.

Things could stay this way forever, I thought contentedly, and I’d be perfectly happy. Of course, it was at that moment that there was a sharp rap upon our front door.

Baggins sat up with a start, and even before the Widow entered with the entirely expected news that there was a stranger to see him on most urgent matters of business, gave me a rueful look. “I probably should send this fellow on his way,” he murmured. “After all, we have only just come back.”

“Don’t you think of it, my dear Frodo,” I laughed, raising myself up to a more respectable position, and giving him a swift kiss. “You know you live for this.”

He had no chance to respond since a snow-strewn elderly hobbit in a ragged jacket, unconsciously mangling the ends of his humble knitted scarf with his trembling hands, was shown into the study at that very moment.

Baggins quickly rose, instantly the picture of solicitous attention. “Not another word, my dear hobbit, until you’ve taken those wet things off, and had something hot to drink. Mrs. Rumble, some tea, if you please.“

“The kettle is already on, Mr. Baggins,” she interrupted him with a only partially concealed smile. “I’ll just bring the tray on in, if you like.”

And before he quite knew how it had happened, our visitor was seated in the best seat in the study, his jacket hung up, dripping slightly near the fire, and a warm rug over his knees. A steaming cup of tea was in one hand and one of the Widow’s cream scones was in the other. And as he proceeded to launch into his tale of woe for the benefit of an obviously fascinated Baggins, I just had to laugh quietly to myself. We were most definitely home again, and there was no happier hobbit that morning, in all the Shire, than I.