Part One: Sam
All the new trellis needed was a splash of cheery white paint and it would be perfect. Sam paused in his work and looked up at Bag End's light-filled windows. They were, sadly, much easier to see than they had been a year and more ago, so many of Mr. Bilbo's beloved twining vines had been pulled down and ruined. But the more persistent plants were already sending shoots upward, seeking their familiar holds. Sam missed the clematis especially, the white and the purple. They would come back, their roots were undamaged, but that didn't mean they couldn't use a little help.
He had no end of volunteers to help him set Bag End's garden to rights but, in truth, Sam wanted to do this job all by himself. He wanted to get his hands around it, believe it. Revel in it. He was back. He was home. Sam tilted his head back and basked in the warmth of the Spring sun. He had survived.
Earlier that day, he'd overseen the arrival and placement of Frodo's belongings from Crickhollow and had had a wonderful time with Merry and Pippin, who'd brought over all the old familiar furniture. Frodo had...Sam sighed and opened his eyes to stare accusingly at his trellis. Frodo, under the guise of 'not getting in the way,' had avoided his cousins and the Buckland help they had brought with them as if they were all diseased or dangerous. He had made an appearance at lunch, and Merry and Pippin had left soon thereafter so he could 'rest.' The ever-present worry for Frodo galvanized Sam into taking a break and he dusted himself off and went around to the front door, grumbling.
Framed by the doorway, Frodo stood as if waiting for Sam. He was leaning against the jamb with his head down and his hands in his pockets. He looked haggard and tired, and some of Sam's irritation leached away at the sight. Frodo looked up, and Sam's heart railed and screamed against his horrible suspicion that the best part of his beloved Frodo had died, many long days ago, when, against all hope, the two of them had managed to kill the greatest evil their world had ever known. A golden Ring. That Thing had been powerful beyond his comprehension and Sam now suspected it had left a vengeful ghost behind that was determined to take Frodo down into death with it. Nothing and no one, not even Frodo himself, was able to stop it. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair at all.
"Tea?" was all Frodo said. Sam nodded and followed him in.
Sam sat his friend at the table and put the kettle over the coals himself. He opened the pantry to see which of the many newly delivered delicacies they should sample first. "Frodo, I do believe these are real truffles! Did Pippin bring them? I've only seen them once before in my life, at the party Mr. Bilbo had for the Mayor's first election."
"I'm sure if anyone could come up with truffles, it would be Pippin." Frodo put his head in his hands.
Sam glanced over. His regard was caught and held, as it still often was, by the uneven pale striping against the dark hair--those three fingers where, by rights, four should be. He put down the truffle bowl where he had found it, walked over and took Frodo's right hand, intending to kiss it. But Frodo pulled his hand back. Eyes down, he turned his shoulder towards Sam.
Miraculously, Sam found his voice to be steady. "You're tired. Would you like to lie down in the parlor? I could bring tea to you there."
Frodo's eyes were now on Sam's hands. "No, it's not that. I'm not tired, I'm just thinking."
"About what?" Sam pulled out a chair and sat down.
"Nothing." Frodo replied and Sam felt his jaw tighten at the same tired evasion he'd been hearing since Mordor. Nothing's wrong. Nothing. Nothing at all. There was entirely too much 'nothing' going around for Sam's comfort. Frodo, as usual, turned the question back on Sam. "You looked rather deep in concentration yourself. What were you thinking about in the garden?"
"I was thinkin' about how most of the trees in Hobbiton were going to be the same age and how odd that was going to be. Thinkin' about the Gaffer and him complainin' about how it will be a couple of years at least before he breaks in his new kitchen," Sam answered, and Frodo smiled. The kettle began to whistle and Sam stood to attend to it. He scooped a new blend of dried leaves into the teapot, poured in the boiling water and put the lid on to let it steep. "And I was thinkin' about Rosie," he finished and fetched cups.
"Rosie." Frodo seemed to savor the name. "Tell me."
Sam smiled and just barely managed to keep himself from sighing like a lovesick lad as he sat down again. "I was as surprised as anyone to find she had waited for me. It was beyond hoping for, really. But she did." He had forgotten the sugar. He jumped up to get it. "But...ah...I haven't spoken yet."
"Sam, the entire Shire has been expecting you to marry Rose Cotton since the two of you were children. For heaven's sake, what's the delay?" Sam sat down again and Frodo reached for the sugar bowl.
Sam watched Frodo stir until he couldn't stand it anymore. He pushed his own teacup out of the way. He could feel his heart beating and each throb was a pain in his soul as he gathered his strength and reached out for Frodo again. Lightly drawing his thumb along the sensuous curve of Frodo's mouth, he brushed the pale cheek with his fingertips. "I am that torn in two, Frodo," he whispered. Frodo leaned back and Sam's hand was left alone in midair. "Frodo, please..."
"No, Sam," Frodo gasped and the pain in his eyes was the first life Sam had seen in them for weeks. Frodo clutched his teacup and he took a quick, scalding swallow. "See here," Frodo continued. "Here's what you should do. Get married as soon as you can, and then move in with Rose. There's room enough in Bag End for as big a family as you could wish for."
Sam blinked. "You want Rosie to move in?"
"It will be glorious." Frodo nodded. "You and Rose and an entire battalion of children. Bag End will be full of singing and laughter and noise and everything good. You deserve it, my dear Sam."
"So do you." Sam sat up straight with a joyous gasp. "So do you. What a wonderful idea, Frodo!"
"Eh?"
"You and me and Rosie!" he laughed. "You poor thing! No wonder you've been so skittish lately. What an idea! Oh, it's perfect, if we can get Rosie to agree to it. It'll take some convincing, I'm sure, but the two of us... she surely can't resist!"
"Convincing? Sam, Rosie's just waiting for you to ask her." Frodo shook his head. Sam saw a curious progression of moods chase across the face he knew so well. Sorrow, regret and resignation he recognized, and then the mask came down again.
That's the face he showed Captain Faramir, it is, when he thought the Big Man was going to do us in. Sam thought. Why is he showin' it to me? "It's a brilliant idea," he insisted.
Frodo took a deep breath, and when he spoke it sounded rehearsed, like a speech long prepared. "There's nothing brilliant about it. There's plenty of room here, and it really is the easiest solution. You would have to wait quite a while to hold the wedding if you had to look for a place, and I don't imagine you want to move in with your in-laws, as wonderful as the Cottons are. The two of you will be happy here, I'm sure of it."
"The two of us? What about you, now?" Sam began to suspect he had misunderstood.
Frodo shrugged and his eyes were lifeless and sad. "What about me?"
"You, me and Rosie," Sam repeated. Frodo threw him an uncomprehending look and Sam felt his sudden hope drain away. He tapped a finger on the smooth surface of the kitchen table and decided to pursue the matter. It really was the perfect solution, for both of them. "You, me and Rosie," he nodded his head for emphasis. "We're going to have to get a bigger bed."
Frodo had chosen that moment to take a sip of tea. It left his mouth in a incredulous spray and Sam had to wipe his face off with his sleeve. "What?" Frodo coughed, his hand scrabbling for a napkin. "What?" When he recovered, he stood up and shoved his chair under the kitchen table. "What an idea, Sam, honestly. No."
"But Frodo! Then, then you're thinking I've chosen Rose, and decided that I can't love you any more. I will love you until I die. That's all!"
Frodo looked at Sam as if he had been slapped. He opened his mouth to speak. Failed. Tried again. "Sam. I want you to have what you deserve. A home. A family. It's right that you should have those things. Rose is the only one who can give them to you. She is the only choice you can make."
Sam stood, too. "But, me dear, how could you think, with us not even talking about it, that I would throw you away without even a word?" Sam shook his head and his jaw was set at his most stubborn angle.
"What's there to talk about, Sam? It's over. The quest is over. We're back where we belong. We're home." Frodo put his hand over his face, half turned away. "We can't have what we had before." Frodo let his hand drop and met Sam's eyes at last. "Everything has changed. Everything. Don't you see? I'm so tired, Sam. So tired. I have nothing left for you."
"Frodo. No. Don't turn me away. Don't turn us away. Your idea about Rose...well, you didn't mean it that way but it was, too, brilliant. Won't you even think about it? You, me and Rosie?"
"No. Sam, I barely have the energy to ... to write, much less to care for the two of you. Put it out of your mind."
"I will not. Now, I know you love me and I think you cared for her once, too. I seem to remember a game you two played before you and I went off East."
Frodo's eyes were suddenly round as shields. "That was just a game, at Yule. We were in front of a crowd of Tooks. It meant nothing."
"Looked like it meant everything. I was there, remember?" Sam crossed his arms as he remembered, quite vividly, the passion on display at the Great Smials Yule Gala. He managed a chuckle. "I was right put out that night. Watching the two of you, I felt I was going to pop, or melt, or something. It was so beautiful and so ... unsettling, if you take my meaning."
Frodo found himself sidetracked for a moment. He gently smiled at Sam. "Think how I felt. I thought you were going to punch me in the nose."
"Ha. Kiss you on the lips meself, maybe, but not punch you in the nose." Sam laughed outright. Frodo was silent. Sam watched him for a moment, then added, "What I wonder is, what did Rose think?"
"I don't know." Frodo ignored Sam's encouraging smile and shook his head again. "And it doesn't matter because I don't matter. Rosie wouldn't have me if I were served on toast. You will marry Rosie and you will have a home and children and..."
His good humor gone, Sam was on the verge of shouting. "Don't turn your back on yourself! And don't make up my mind for me, either. You can't. And you can't tell me what Rose Cotton will or won't do. That's up to her!" He paused, drew a breath. "I can't believe this. We're here at home, finally in the one place we wanted to be, the one place we thought we'd never see again, and we're fighting over whether or not I should marry Rosie. This beats all."
Frodo was aghast. "Of course, you're going to marry her! And then you'll be healed and whole. It's what you deserve. You shouldn't be torn in two."
"Well, that's what I am." Sam paused. "It's like you're the Moon, and she's the Sun. And who could choose one over the other? I'm going to talk to Rose and we'll just see. At least I can say I tried."
"Impossible," was Frodo's last word on the subject, and he quit the room.
"We'll just see," was Sam's, and he began to clean up the tea things.
Sam's heart was pounding the next morning as he climbed the steps to the Cotton's farmhouse, the dogs circling around his legs, licking his knees, and tripping him in their eagerness to greet him.
He went down the broad porch to the left hand door, which was the kitchen. He knew the family would be sitting down to breakfast about now, after doing the morning chores and feeding the animals. After the winter he had spent there, he knew their routine as well as his own. He knocked twice, then opened the round door and poked his head in.
"Good morning!"
"Why, Sam," said Mrs. Cotton, looking up from the bacon she was serving. "Good morning to you. Pull up a chair." There was a chorus of greetings from the other Cottons gathered around the big square table. He caught Rose's eye, and she was beaming at him.
"Thank you, Mistress Lily. It all smells wonderful."
There was nothing for it but for Sam to sit down and join in with breakfast, even though he found himself not a bit hungry. The Cottons were full of pleasant questions about the restoration of Bag End, the health of Sam's gaffer, and other minute gossip. When everyone had their fill of food and talk, and the boys began sliding in their chairs and picking up the empty dishes for their mother, Sam spoke again.
"Ma'am, I wanted to ask if I could borrow Rose for a bit."
"You are going to bring her back, aren't you?" Farmer Cotton joked.
"This time, yessir. It won't be long, just an hour or so this morning." Sam winked at Rose and she looked quite surprised.
"You're sure I don't need to send Will, here, along with you, now?" Farmer Cotton teased further. He was probably wondering, along with half the village, what was taking Sam so long to propose? Wasted a year, people were saying. Sam had heard it.
Sam forced a laugh and muttered something unintelligible while the Cottons giggled. He stood waiting, his hands on the back of his chair, while Rose went for her cloak.
"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," her brother was saying, to the amusement of everyone.
"Oh, what have you ever done?" Rose, returning, asked as she worked the clasp.
Lily turned on them all in exasperation. "Everyone, hush now! Rose, we'll see you at the looms soon enough, you hear?" She frowned up at her sons. Rose was laughing at all of them as she came outside with Sam and firmly closed the door behind her.
He looked down at her, taking in her brilliant blue eyes, her wide smile. She was more beautiful than any lass he had ever seen, the Queen of Gondor included. She took his arm, looking up into his face the while. "Can we take a bit of a walk?" he said nervously.
"If you like."
As soon as they were out of sight of the house, they stopped and kissed. Sam held her close, absorbing the smell of her hair, the feel of her warmth through her simple workday clothes, as she leaned into the embrace. Her head fit so nicely on his shoulder.
Arm in arm, Rose and Sam walked down South Lane away from the farm and from town and cut off on the path that led, through the orchards, to the Three Farthing Stone. At this time of morning there was no one about. They strolled along the path until Sam found a sloping patch of sunny grass and drew her down beside him. There was no wind, the sky was blue and still, and the early touches of green were just showing on the tree's tips.
He had never been so nervous.
Part Two: Rosie
Sitting in the sun, Rose reveled in the rare chance to be alone with Sam. He looked just the same as he always had, perhaps a bit thinner, a bit quieter. The deep crow's feet at the corners of his eyes, as well as the lines around his mouth, were new. But he was still her Sam. Mr. Frodo now, oh, he looked so beaten and lost. He responded to nothing. No book, no baked treat, no threat seemed to move him back to life. Rosie had been tempted to try other things. Other means of persuasion and pleasure, but she just didn't have the courage. After all he'd been through? Rosie blushed and put the thought out of her mind. She was loyal to Sam and now was not the time to be thinking of such things.
Sam put his arm around her, stroked her shoulder absently as he talked. He rambled a bit, trying to find the place to start to say his piece and Rose patiently nodded in all the right places.
Finally he said, "I was so surprised when we got back last fall and found you unwed. I was sure someone had snapped you up. It was a long year, with no news. A long time to wait."
"Nonsense. I couldn't give you up without knowing for sure what had happened. We had heard about what happened to Mr. Fredegar in Crickhollow when those...things came for him. He and everyone else tried to tell me that you and Mr. Frodo and the others were never coming back, that you had been gone too long and that your enemies were too dangerous, but I would never believe it. I had faith."
Rosie rested her head on his shoulder and squeezed back as he caressed her hand. She began to be sure that he had chosen this strange time and place to finally ask her to marry him, and her heart beat faster. Why now, and not with her father present? What did he have to say to her that no one else should hear? They couldn't stay away too long or her brothers would come looking for her, out of a teasing interest more than fear of Sam's intentions. They were all such good friends.
Sam turned to her, searched her face, still holding her hand. "Rose, you know I love you. I imagine I've never said it properly before. There's a lot I never have done proper, but that can't be helped now. I love you, and I loved you before I left, but I had a job to do." He paused.
"I love you, too, Sam. I have for a long time." She drew his hand up to her lips, kissed and rested it against her chin as she held it tight. She frowned because he was frowning. Whatever he was trying to say, it was hard. A formless worry began to creep into her mind. He put his free hand to her cheek, acknowledging her words of love and smiling at her with one corner of his mouth. She wanted to kiss that, too.
"Rosie." He swallowed hard. "I have been thinking ever since we got back, and years before that, that I would love nothing more than to marry you. I wanted to before I left with Frodo, and I still want to. But the job I had to do was helping Frodo and I'm not through with that yet."
Worries over Mr. Frodo and a marriage proposal in the same breath weren't very romantic. Or was it a marriage proposal? Rose decided to be direct. "Sam, what's wrong? What has Mr. Frodo got to do with us getting married?"
"Rosie, understand. I'm not asking you to marry me yet. I'll do that proper, ask your father, and everything the way it should be. But I have to talk to you first about Frodo."
Rose was getting irritated. This was NOT how one asked for a lady's hand. "Well, what about him?"
"You know what he did. Taking the Ring to Mount Doom. It took everything he had and more. We needed all our strength, together, to get there." His eyes had a far away look and a stern change came over his face. He wasn't seeing the trees and sky any more but horrors, dark horrors that Rose couldn't imagine. "I had to put him on my back and carry him up that burning mountain. And there were worse things than that. But what happened between him and me..."
He took another deep breath and met her eyes squarely.
"Rose, we drew very close while we were gone. We're different now, him and me. I love you, but I love him, too." His chin came up, as if he was daring her to defy what he had just said.
"Sam, what do you mean?"
"I love him and I love you," he repeated. "And I can't tell you it will ever be different now that we're home, because it will never change. And I can't be wanting to marry you, and not tell you that. You have to know, beforehand. It wouldn't be fair, otherwise."
Rose frowned, trying to understand. She said, slowly, "You love him. Of course you do. You went through terrible things together, fighting monsters, and thirst and hunger. I'm sure no one understands what that did to you both."
"It brought us together, Rose." He paused. "We needed each other. In every way, or we would have died." Sam breathed in deep and squeezed her hand again. "Rose, we lay together."
Rosie felt the blood drain from her face. She swallowed and carried on bravely. She was a grown hobbit, after all, she could accept this. "Well. That's...surprising. But you were both in great pain, Sam. I understand."
"I fell in love with him, Rose. And he loves me."
Not a proposal at all, then. Sam was going to leave her, Sam didn't love her anymore, and she had been a fool to wait. "You love him?" she repeated and her voice broke on the last word. "You love him?" Of course he did. Frodo was simply a fine thing. Rose's face twisted in pain.
"Oh, Rose! Listen, listen to me." Sam kissed her hand and rushed ahead. "Yes, I do. And I meant it when I said I loved you, too. I do, Rose. You've known that for a long time. I want you to marry me, and I want to stay with him. I've been taking care of him my entire life and I am not going to stop now. But I am asking you, even still, to wed me."
She looked away, not answering, not able to, trying to absorb what he had told her. Sam and Frodo. She seemed to shrink, huddling into herself. "If you love him so much, why? You don't have to marry anyone, you know. The Bagginses have always done just as they pleased." She had to stop, her voice was choked.
"Oh, Rose, I am so sorry to make you cry. I don't mean to." He leaned his head in his hands for a moment, his elbows on his knees. "It's so different, what I feel for you." He put his hands on her shoulders. "I want you to be my wife, and the mother of my children. I have wanted that for years so, so much, and I still want it." He paused and took away his hand. Rosie looked at him, at last. "I want to keep taking care of him. And I want to marry you."
Rosie's eyes began to narrow. "If you want a brood mare you can just look elsewhere, Samwise Gamgee..."
"Rose, no. Listen to me. You don't know how many times I thought of you on the journey, how many times the memory of you kept me going. I love you. I wish you could believe it."
She stared at him. "Sam, what exactly are you offering me? You say you two are lovers. If I marry you, am I marrying him, too?"
Sam reached for her hand. "I imagine that would be between you and him. See, I know you two care for each other. We've spent a deal of time together, the three of us, over the years. You could have him. And you could have me. And Bag End! And...just everything."
She put a hand on his chest. "Oh, Sam," was all she said. What an idea. What did Sam think he was going to do? Alternate between her bedroom and Frodo's? Or maybe they'd all just pile into one room together. They'd have to find a bigger bed. What would her family think? What would Sam's Gaffer say?
Sam covered her hand with one of his, put the other against her cheek.
"Rose, if you can think of this, if it makes any sense to you at all, please say yes. Because he needs us. He needs us worse than I realized. Talking about our wedding has got him thinking of…of settling things. He's giving away everything that was important to him! Giving it all to me. He's trying to see you and me safe, and set up nice and pretty in Bag End, where he won't ever have to worry about us again. As if he's trying to die in peace!"
"Die?"
"Aye, it's like he thinks he's already dead. He's been pushing me away for weeks. He wants for you and me to marry and settle in Bag End so he can, I don't know, live through me or something. It's crazy, Rose. He's disappearing before my eyes. I'm afraid for him. What if he should really die? Or leave the Shire? Whatever he's up to, I won't allow it!"
Rosie shook her head as an anxiety from an entirely unexpected quarter hit her. Frodo Baggins dead? Frodo Baggins gone? Gone forever, this time. "Oh, no, Sam. Don't say that."
"I want to stop him. And I want you to help me," Sam continued. "He can battle me forever and not give an inch, but he can't take on both of us. He's not that strong." Sam took her hands again. "We can keep him together. I'm yours, Rose, never doubt that, but you can have him, too, if you're willing. Rosie, you could have everything you ever wanted! Don't think I've never seen you look at him. Just help me!"
"So he doesn't know you're asking me this?"
"I told him I would. He was shocked. He's sure you'll knock me flat. And before you even think to ask it, no, I'm not doing this to keep him. I'm telling thee, all three of us could have everything we ever wanted, Rose, everything!"
"Sam. Dear. I have to think. I am so surprised, so very surprised...."
"I know. Remember, I do love you. 'Til the day I die. And I wouldn't be here asking if I didn't. And I had to ask. I had to try. We could all gain so much!"
Rosie put her head in her hands and was still for several long minutes as she silently pleaded with herself not to give in to screaming or running or both. Slowly, she began to calm. Sam wisely stayed silent. A chill breeze shook her cloak and snapped her back to attention. "We should go back. Nibs and Jolly will send the dogs out looking for us." she said.
Sam bowed his head. "Well, I guess it wouldn't be too good to be licked to death, then." He scrambled to his feet and pulled her up.
on to part 2
~
Pretty Good Year