"The Greenhands have been gardeners in Hobbiton for nearly two centuries."

Frodo rolled his eyes expressively at Bilbo and took the last bite of his pie.

"Well, you did ask for the whole tale!" Bilbo just looked smug as he poured them more tea.

Frodo sat back with a sigh of resignation. At least he was temporarily warm, and dry, and very full. There was no telling, at this point, how long that state of affairs would last.

"When my father built Bag End, he hired the Greenhands -- Old Holman and Halfred, his son -- to design the gardens."

Rain was still sheeting down the windows and Frodo couldn't imagine that the Bag End gardens would be anything but mud at this point -- cold grey mud. But he nodded. Sam had shared that story with him long ago, proudly pointing out some of the oldest denizens in the garden -- planted over 100 years ago by his kin.

"Old Holman's daughter, Rowan, was our Samwise's great-gammer. She met Hob Gammidge when he was making regular delivery runs through Hobbiton to deliver rope to the docks on the Brandywine. They settled up in Tighfield and had a son -- Sam's gaffer Hobson," Bilbo went on.

"At some point, they changed their name to Gamgee and Hobson married -- I believe it was Iris -- I don't recall her family name. No, wait. It was Archer. Yes, Archer. And they had--" he counted on his fingers. "Andwise, Hamfast, May, and Halfred, who was named after his great-uncle, Halfred Greenhand."

Frodo closed his eyes and laced his sore fingers around his cup, relishing the heat. Every story, no matter how short or long, had to start with a family tree. He wondered briefly if Sam had his recorded somewhere.

"Meantime, Halfred Greenhand had married an Underhill -- Pansy Underhill, and they had a son whom they named Holman after his gaffer. Holman eventually became the Bag End gardener." Bilbo continued.

"Now, Holman was a confirmed bachelor -- a quiet fellow -- a bit shy. He got along quite well with the plants, but not as well with hobbits. He came up to see me one day -- stood right here in this kitchen with his hat in his hands -- and told me he was taking on a young apprentice from his family to learn the trade."

"Apprentice?" Frodo opened his eyes.

Bilbo smiled. "Indeed. Young Hamfast Gamgee. Only in his teens and eager to learn all he could about gardening and farming. Holman told me once that Ham had apparently picked up the 'greenhand' from his gammer's side of the family, rather than having roping in his blood like his brother, Andwise."

"I really cannot imagine the Gaffer in his teens."

"Well, he never really was -- at least he didn't spend them as most young lads do. Jumped right from fauntling to tween I think. Skipped all the 'folderol' in between." Bilbo shook his head. "A most serious young fellow. Holman did send him home over Yule and Lithe and for birthdays and the like, but he was certainly here more than there. Most often out there." Bilbo nodded towards the garden.

Frodo turned to gaze at the dark window sheeted with rain. "And then?"

"And then I had an adventure." Bilbo winked. "Partly because of old Holman. Wouldn't say two words to most hobbits, but wizards -- eh, that was another matter entire."

Frodo grimaced. "That part I have heard."

"Well, there is always more you know." Bilbo gazed at his tea. "Further detail -- embellishment -- elaboration."

Making a derisive noise, Frodo got up to put another log on the fire. "You were saying that the Gaffer was tending the Bag End gardens," he prompted firmly.

"No, I was saying I had an adventure."

"Absolutely. So, you had an adventure, and then?"

Bilbo smiled good-naturedly. "Well, let me see. Ham proved more and more that he did have the Greenhand family 'gift'. It was as if he had roots in the soil himself at times. I would catch him standing with his toes clenched in the earth, sniffing at double handfuls of loam, then telling you what would grow there best or--"

Startled, Frodo looked up from the hearth. "Sam does that. He picks up the soil and crushes it in his fingers, then smells it. He says it is so he can figure what he has to add to get it right for this or that plant. I caught him at it once and asked him to show me." He turned back to poke at the log to make sure it was firmly settled. "I couldn't tell any difference in the scent from one spot to another."

Nodding, Bilbo pointed at the window. "And they can predict the weather as well. Well, the seasonal changes anyway. Ham has guessed the date of first and last frost correctly since I can recall."

"And Sam predicted this storm, actually." Frodo stood up from the hearth and stretched. "I saw him checking and retying the trellises -- fussing over the young shoots and seedlings. He told me the plants could feel it coming."

"Natural gardener, like his da. And I think you are getting me sidetracked with your favourite subject."

Frodo smiled and sat down.

"Well, the garden thrived, but, to be honest, I was a bit concerned. It was fairly apparent that Ham had plans for his future, and I thought for a while that they might not include being Bag End's gardener." Bilbo frowned. "Neither of them told me, but I picked up enough here and there to know that he wasn't tweening at all and that he already had plans involving a young lass in Tighfield."

Frodo realised he had made some surprised noise when Bilbo turned and looked at him. "Well, it is hard for me to envision the Gaffer tweening or courting. I just can't picture it."

"It is difficult to imagine the bright-eyed, passionate young lad buried inside that old codger, I must admit. But he is in there." Bilbo stared at the fire. "Trust me, he was quite a striking fellow, and very much in love, based on the frequency of his trips to Tighfield. As his majority approached, I must admit that I was just a bit concerned because I knew Holman was looking to retire and I wasn't quite sure what our young apprentice had planned. He was closed-mouthed even then. And Holman--" Bilbo smiled and shook his head. "Well, Holman was a little more communicative than one of his plants, but not much -- unless you were a wizard."

Frodo leaned over and poured them both another cup of tea.

"Then suddenly, without a word of warning, Ham shows up in Hobbiton with a lovely new wife -- our dear Bell -- and a cart full of baggage -- and with barely two words to me, Holman settles the newlyweds into his hole at Number 3 and promptly retires."

Frodo raised his eyebrows. "Just like that?"

"Just like that," Bilbo snapped his fingers. "Of course, I threw a bit of a party to acquaint the new Mistress Gamgee with the rest of the tenants and the town and to ensure the newlyweds were well started in their new life. And then, of course, all of Hobbiton fell in love with Bell Gamgee."

"Including you," Frodo said quickly.

Bilbo snorted softly, but didn't deny it. "Oddly enough, neither of them talked much of Tighfield. Ham was an intense fellow -- had a bit of a temper on him, so, well, you avoided topics on which he did not seem inclined to talk. And Bell--" Bilbo smiled. "Well, Bell always seemed to make a conversation be all about you."

Pulling his chair away from the table and almost onto the hearth, Frodo sat back down and stretched his feet towards the fire, smiling sadly as he recalled his first memory of Bell Gamgee -- he had been just a faunt and all he could remember was gold hair and silver eyes, so different from his mum. Just as Bilbo remembered, Bell had made him feel as if everything revolved around him and he were the most important thing in her life at that moment. It was a wonderful feeling, especially when he had come to visit Bilbo from Brandy Hall and Bell had made special biscuits with currants just for him and sat with him and just -- let him talk.

"Yes, she did that," he said softly.

"Indeed." Bilbo agreed. "And I am wanting a pipe." He made a motion as if to rise.

"I'll get it for you, Bilbo. You just keep going or we will be up all night," Frodo stood and padded into the parlour to retrieve Bilbo's pipe and pouch of pipeweed from the mantel.

"Well, all right then. Where was I? Oh yes. Well, Ham and Bell settled in as if they had been here all their lives, and Holman was gone from us too soon. I don't think retirement sat well with him. Withered up and blew away, a bit like one of his plants."

"Seems a bit odd. That they wouldn't talk of Tighfield, doesn't it?" Frodo said thoughtfully, sitting back down with pipe and pouch in hand.

"Hmmpf. How often do you say two words about your life before you came to Bag End?"

Frodo grimaced and began tamping weed in the bowl.

"My point," Bilbo smirked. "I marked it, but it was never an issue and, as I said, there are some things in which I just won't meddle."

Frodo raised an eyebrow sceptically.

"Who is telling this tale?"

Frodo bent his head over the pipe, hiding a broad smile.

"Right then. Well, every now and again Ham's brother Andwise would come to visit, with his wife Camellia. I did meet both of them -- wonderful folk, and Camellia is a beautiful lass. Striking. I suspect she has some Took in her. She and Bell were as tight as tight."

Frodo handed over the lit pipe and sat back down in front of the flames.

"And Andwise and Camellia would return every time there was a new Gamgee brought into the world -- and for other occasions. From time to time they would bring their son Anson and celebrate Yule here. Number 3 was just full to overflowing with young Gamgees -- it was quite a sight." He took a long pull on the pipe. "You know, I invited them to stay up here since I was always off to the Hall or Great Smials for Yule, and all these rooms going to waste, but they refused. All of them are proud folk, those Gamgees."

"But, I've never seen Andwise and Camellia, I don't think. Have I?" Frodo asked, leaning forward to poke at the fire.

"No. They came for-- they came when Bell passed, but you weren't out and about then, being still ill yourself."

"And they haven't been back since?"

Bilbo made an impatient gesture. "Don't rush me."

"That is not rushing. That is asking for further detail -- embellishment -- elaboration--"

"There isn't very much of that available in this story, which was my point, I believe," Bilbo glared at him.

Frodo sighed resignedly and closed his eyes, luxuriating in the heat.

He tried to remember his visits to Bag End -- long before he had come to stay. There were flashes of the Gamgees from then that were much different than the family he knew now. They had been loud and boisterous and furiously bright. And vaguely, he could remember someone at the heart of all that brightness. He had always thought it was Bell. But had it been? This had been someone with gold eyes and a contagious laugh -- someone who had picked up a tiny faunt that must've been Sam and swung him around in a circle, giggling and squealing. He opened his eyes in disbelief. That couldn't have been -- Ham Gamgee? He had never heard the Gaffer laugh like that and his eyes were -- his eyes had always looked dead and dull. At least since Frodo could remember.

"The older lads -- Hamson and Halfred -- got quite close to their Uncle Andwise, actually. There was some discussion of them going back to Tighfield to visit, but I gathered Ham was not open to it."

"He didn't want them to go to Tighfield?"

"Exactly. None of them have been back there. I've never even seen Ham set foot farther than Bywater. He doesn't even go to Overhill, but that is another story I think."

"And Bell never did either?" Frodo frowned, then looked thoughtful. "Where is Bell's family?"

Bilbo nodded. "And there, I surmise, is the heart of this tale. From what I can gather her people, the Goodchilds, have been in Tighfield almost as long as the Tighs themselves. And I knew she was an only child -- or I guessed -- based on something she said once about you. But, as I said, I never wanted to pry into family matters. And that was the extent of what I knew, until Bell shared just a little more with me than she intended."

Frodo stood up and turned his chair around, straddling it to let his sore backside bask in the heat of the fire. He rested his arms on the top rung and propped his chin there.

"Well, at some point, after Marigold was born -- Sam was just a faunt at the time -- Ham got himself hurt down at the Sackville-Bagginses. Knocked himself out somehow. For someone as hard-headed as he was, he had been out for a good long while and, of course, everyone feared the worst. I went down to make sure all was well with Bell and the faunts, and check in on Ham of course." Bilbo looked solemn, and stared at his teacup morosely. "I should have had brandy."

Frodo moved to get up, but Bilbo waved him off. "I had never really understood those two. They were -- well, separately, they were so completely different. Ham was intense and fiery, very single-minded and, as I said, he had a temper on him -- still does really."

The word intense might fit the Gaffer -- certainly the temper was there, but fiery? Frodo frowned. No, fiery did not fit, not really -- more curmudgeonly and cantankerous, but never fiery. He saw that Bilbo's pipe had gone out, unnoticed.

"Bell was -- well Bell brought out the best in those around her. She was never quiet, but it was more that she made you talk. When I saw them together -- well, it was a revelation every time. They were like two parts of a whole -- they were-- well, they were beautiful."

Frodo tried to reconcile the word 'beautiful' with the Gaffer's wrinkled, weathered face and nearly constant scowl. Bell now -- Bell was beautiful.

"I don't know. I may be oversimplifying it all, but-- that night with Ham struggling to wake, the Widow hovering about, the little ones all abed, Bell terrified that he wouldn't wake -- well, things were said that wouldn't have been otherwise, I think." He shook his head disparagingly, putting his pipe down. "I am such a blind old fool at times."

The room went quiet for a moment. Only the crackle of the fire and the constant drum and drip of rain outside could be heard. Bilbo's face looked worn and tired in the wavering light as he traced an old gouge in the tabletop with his finger.

Frodo reached out and touched the wrinkled hand and Bilbo started. He looked up and smiled swiftly, patting Frodo's hand. "I'm fine lad. Just wandering through the past a bit."

Bilbo gave Frodo's hand another pat, then leaned back in his chair, gazing at the wall. "Marigold's birthing was hard on Bell. It took something out of her I think -- something we didn't realise at the time, but Bell did. Bell knew. She was weaker somehow and just never regained her strength. And that night I saw it."

Frodo could tell by the look on Bilbo's face that he was back in the kitchen of Number 3, all those years ago.

"Looking at her that night, I noticed she was thinner, frailer than she had been before. I saw things I should have noticed before--" He sighed and closed his eyes. "Eh, just a selfish old bachelor, being oblivious I suppose."

"It likely wouldn't have stopped what happened, Bilbo," Frodo said softly.

"Mmm." Bilbo shook his head. "Well, Number 3 was dark that night with Ham lying there and Bell worrying over him and the faunts so frightened by it all."

"I tried to reassure her that Ham would be fine and express my concern about her," Bilbo went on. "That is when she told me that she feared she wouldn't be around to see them all grow up." Bilbo's voice wavered. "Of course, I protested that she would be with us a good long while. And, of course, she ignored me. She was terrified that something might happen to Ham and then, without her, the faunts would be left alone. I was more worried about her health and I wasn't listening, at first, to what she was really trying to tell me.

"She and Ham wanted to make sure that, if anything happened, the children went to Andwise and Camellia. She wanted me to know. And she wanted me to help her make certain it would happen just that way. She wanted papers drawn up." Bilbo tapped his finger on the table for emphasis. "Because she and Ham didn't want her parents anywhere near the faunts."

"Her parents?"

Bilbo nodded. "Well, there were times when I thought she was going to tell me more. At one point she said 'him' then she said 'them'." He frowned. "But yes, although the grandparents on the Gamgee side passed soon after little Marigold was born, I believe both the Goodchilds are still alive today, in Tighfield."

"Still?"

"Well, I imagine they would be getting on in years. Just a bit younger than me really."

Frodo blinked and looked at Bilbo, once again realising how very spry and young his uncle acted for his age. "Well, they might not be as long-lived as Bagginses you know."

"True. True."

"But she--" Frodo sat up straight, tripping over the thought, "She wanted to keep them away from their grandchildren?"

"Apparently. At that point I did not get to hear any more of the tale because our hard-headed gardener woke up." Bilbo was thoughtful for a moment.

"Later, after Ham was healthy and back in the gardens, I did ask Bell if she wanted me to bring in some expertise to get some kind of legal document written up and signed properly." He shook his head. "She said no, that she must've been out of her mind with worry to say such a thing to me."

Frodo frowned.

"She was adamant that everything was fine and that was that. After a while, I forgot that part of the conversation. To be honest, I was more worried about her health, and rightly so," Bilbo said softly. "She just kept getting worse. Every winter brought a deepening of that cough of hers and it never really went away even in the summer. Then that fever hit, well, it was hard on the young and hale, like you lad. Imagine how it affected her."

Frodo sank back down, leaning his forehead on the top rung of the chair back, remembered the debilitating illness that had hit only a little while after he had come to live at Bag End. Unaccountably, he had been fairly healthy for as long as he could remember, avoiding the worst of the coughs and fevers that swept through the Hall every winter. But at the very end of his first winter at Bag End, Frodo had watched as first one, then another of their neighbours came down with the powerful fever, including Bell Gamgee, and then Frodo had taken ill as well.

"She was so very bad that it frightened the older lads tremendously and they came to me -- both of them -- asking me to help them send word to Andwise that their mother was-- well, very ill. They wanted me to write the message for them, since Sam was the only one of them who could write and they didn't want to frighten the lad nor use the postmaster's services and become the subject of gossip." Bilbo sighed deeply. "When I put quill to paper and heard Hamson say 'We fear that mum is dying' I think my heart froze in my chest." He closed his eyes.

As he listened to the fire crackling in the suddenly quiet kitchen and the constant sound of the rain just outside the door, Frodo regretted causing Bilbo to live through all this again. How horrid that time must have been for all of them -- the faunts, Ham, Bilbo --

"I dispatched their letter by special messenger, of course. And, I suspect that Andwise made some decisions of his own when he heard it, for when he and Camellia arrived, they had brought the Goodchilds with them."

Frodo sat straight up, his eyes wide. Bilbo's gaze was grim. "Oh." Frodo said, summing it up in one word.

"Oh indeed." Bilbo shook his head. "It was nearly the worst fortnight of my life, and I was just an observer."

Bilbo suddenly looked drawn and tired, and it took a great deal to rattle Bilbo, as Frodo knew from long experience.

Frodo stood up quickly. "I'm getting the brandy." He didn't give Bilbo time to protest, but stalked into the parlour and fished the key out of its hiding place, quickly retrieving the bottle and pouring them both a glass before returning the to the kitchen.

"I think we both need this."

Bilbo looked up, startled out of some reverie. "Oh! Yes, well, thank you my boy." He took his glass thoughtfully.

"So," Frodo gave the fire another poke for good measure and sat back down at the table. "The Goodchilds arrived and--"

"Yes, well, I was not a witness to their actual arrival, although the Widow was there, with Bell, when the Goodchilds attempted to see her."

"Attempted?"

Bilbo took at sip of the brandy and shook his head. "Indeed."

"The Gaffer kept them away?" Frodo frowned.

Bilbo sighed. "The Widow Rumble is a fine healer and a wise hobbit. She sees and hears many, many things in her work that she chooses to forget and she never carries tales. What happens in a smial stays in the smial. But--" Bilbo looked at his glass and then up at Frodo, then smiled mirthlessly. "Well, Mother's brandy can be persuasive."

"What did she tell you?" Frodo asked.

"Well, you must understand, she had just left Bell's bedside and come straight up here, planning to stay the night, because of you. Del-- Delphinium Neerlock, I think you remember her -- she had already been up and helped me get you settled in with a cool bath and fresh bedding and nightclothes, but the Widow came along to spend the night with you anyway. She was worn out with tending so many, but -- well, you were really very ill, my boy, and she gave you some tincture she had brewed to let you sleep quiet.

"Then she told me that Bell was gone." Bilbo gazed at the crystal glass in Frodo's hand. "And of course, I brought out the Withywindle."

Frodo took a sip. "It must've been--" He couldn't think of a word.

"It was much like the night that I heard about your parents. The Widow and I paid decent respects to Mother's brandy. Neither of us said very much, but I must've said something about Bell's parents being able to at least see her one last time," Bilbo continued.

Frodo tensed up, unwilling to believe that anyone could be that-- that cruel, but somehow anticipating what Bilbo would say next.

"Then she told me that he didn't allow the Goodchilds to see Bell--"

"How could-- how could the Gaffer do that? How could he keep her from seeing her parents? That is just-- it's-- I am--" Frodo sputtered to a stop when Bilbo held up his hand.

"This is the crux of the matter, I believe. You see the Widow confided that the Gaffer all but told her it was what Bell wanted."

"What Bell wanted?" Frodo managed.

"As I said, the Widow doesn't often share and never meddles, but she confirmed to me that what the Gaffer said did make sense of some things Bell had let slip to her before that night. And some things she had overheard as well."

Frodo couldn't reconcile what he was hearing with the Bell that he remembered. He took a quick gulp of his brandy.

"Whatever it was that happened between them all those years ago--" Bilbo shook his head. "Well, as the Widow pointed out to me, you must remember they were both quite young and very much in love when they left Tighfield behind. Undoubtedly things were said and done that could not be unsaid -- or undone. "

Frodo thought about how furious he had been when he heard what the Gaffer had said to Sam before he had left. How angry and frustrated he still was.

"It was clear to me that the Widow felt, had Bell been awake and aware that day, that she might have relented and -- out of love for her -- the Gaffer might have as well." Bilbo was staring at the fire now, the brandy in his hand forgotten.

"The Gaffer's knot," Frodo whispered.

"Indeed," Bilbo responded, still gazing at the fire. "And we are all caught in this tangle of his."

"Some of us more than others," Frodo growled, finishing off his brandy and setting the glass down a bit harder than he intended. "So, what happened that day at the graveside?"

"Well, it could have been much worse, I imagine, but Andwise is not a fool, and he took the Goodchilds to the site first, before Ham and the faunts and all of the rest of us. So when they all arrived in the procession, with Bell, there stood the Goodchilds with Andwise and Camellia, waiting. Ham had no choice, I suppose, but to approach, but he refused to look in their direction or acknowledge them at all. It was as if they were invisible." Bilbo stopped, gazing at his glass. "I am not sure that anyone else would have noticed, but those who knew Ham well enough could see something was amiss, aside from the obvious."

"They did get to look on her then, one last time?" Frodo breathed, somehow relieved that the Goodchilds were allowed to see their daughter's face.

Bilbo nodded. "As did we all, but Ham was clearly not happy about it. I think had it not been for Camellia and the youngest being there, he would have done something unseemly. You could see his hands shaking and his jaw clenching and unclenching through it all. Eventually only the family, the Widow, and myself remained. The little ones -- Sam and Marigold -- were clearly freezing, standing there behind their da, and May shouldn't have been there at all, having just got over the fever herself. But Ham wouldn't budge. He just stood there like a statue, staring at the shroud. Camellia had taken Bell's mother to the Goodchild's pony cart and only Andwise stood beside Bell's father. I was about to break all the conventions and walk up to Ham to urge him and the rest away, when I saw him look up at Goodchild." Bilbo shook his head. "I have never seen such a look of hatred on anyone's face in all my days."

Frodo kept quiet, remembering some confrontations in his past that he would rather forget -- remembering the kinds of things that could be said and done in anger over old hurts.

"Goodchild stepped forward and Ham moved as if to go around the grave -- actually, I thought he was going to leap over it. I don't remember exactly what happened then, but Andwise stepped in front of Goodchild and stopped Ham in his tracks. Dreadful as it was, it appeared that he was going to take a swing at his own brother to get at the old hobbit. Right there in front of the faunts." Bilbo took another sip of his brandy. "So the two lads -- Hamson and Halfred -- went to stand in front of their Uncle Andwise. That stopped him, finally. But the look on Ham's face was-- well, horrible. He stalked off, with the younger ones in tow."

Bilbo shook his head glumly. "And that is where my story ends, lad." Bilbo took a long swig of his brandy, finishing the glass. "Andwise pushed Hamson and Halfred to follow their father home, and they did. But I could tell by those lads' expressions and the glances exchanged between Andwise and Camellia that something was going to break somewhere. And it apparently did later that day. The next thing we knew, Andwise and Camellia were gone, as were the Goodchilds -- and Hamson and Halfred."

"He threw them out then, just for defending their uncle -- their grandfather," Frodo stated bluntly.

"Not that I know of lad. Apparently whatever happened, it went on quietly in the Gamgee smial and none have spoken of it since." Bilbo waved his hand in the air. "The rest is just speculation and rumour."

"But they haven't been back since," Frodo said. "Hamson and Halfred--"

"None of them," Bilbo responded. "I made some inquiries and I do know the lads are in Tighfield with their aunt and uncle."

"And they never contact each other--"

"Not that I am aware," Bilbo looked up, frowning. "The Gaffer wouldn't and the younger Gamgees-- Well, there have been times I have suspected-- I've seen our Samwise conversing with a merchant who comes through from Tighfield now and again, but I haven't pried." Bilbo was tracing that gouge in the tabletop with his finger once more. "I have my own sources and I have been checking on the lads, discreetly, of course. Just in case the family needs them at some point. Or they need the family."

Frodo watched the bent greying head with a rush of painful affection. Bilbo always protested that he was an old bachelor with no inclination to have a family, but the old fraud was, in reality, the patriarch of a large family -- the Gamgees, his tenants, Frodo -- and half the inhabitants of the Westfarthing.

"Thank you, Uncle," Frodo said, putting his hand gently over Bilbo's.

Bilbo cocked his head quizzically. "For what, lad?"

"For sharing that with me. I know it wasn't easy for you." Before Bilbo could protest, Frodo continued. "And-- just for being who you are."

Bilbo's eyebrows went up expressively and he gazed at Frodo for a long moment then smiled sadly. "Well, I hope it helped, such as it is. I hope I haven't made a terrible mistake by not intervening before now."

"What could you do? What could anyone do? He's so spiteful, and stubborn--"

"Frodo," Bilbo said quietly.

"Well, he is," Frodo whispered to himself.

Bilbo frowned. "You don't really remember Ham when he was-- well, when he was his best -- when Bell was healthy and strong." Bilbo shook his head. "When he was still Ham, and not the Gaffer."

Frodo looked up questioningly. "Ham and not the-- he-- That was when everyone started calling him that?"

Bilbo smiled. "Well, actually I think it was Bell herself that first called him the Gaffer as a bit of a joke, because he was becoming an old curmudgeon." The smile faded. "Her illness changed him. He rarely laughed or smiled unless it was her doing. And it was a sad thing to watch the little ones trying so very hard to make things be the way they were before.

"And when she died, Ham-- Well, he changed even more. He really did go from being Ham to being the Gaffer -- old before his time, all the fire burnt out of him." Bilbo sipped his brandy. "He really is just a shell of the hobbit that I knew-- that Sam knew as his father."

Frodo thought of his own vague recollection of the Gaffer from long ago and the way that Sam struggled to please his father, in spite of the Gaffer's constant gruff demeanour. He could not reconcile the two.

"It isn't fair," he said flatly. "Sam has always shown his father the highest respect and worked so hard to gain his in return. It reminds me of Merry. Merry does the same, and Uncle Sara doesn't deserve it either."

Bilbo cleared his throat and Frodo smirked at him.

"Don't 'hrrmph' at me, Bilbo. You have said the same yourself."

"Indeed, but-- well, I shouldn't have," Bilbo responded, ruffled.

"Well, Uncle Sara is Merry's father and he is the Master of Buckland, after all. But he really isn't, and you know that as well as I do."

"Fathers and sons. It is a difficult relationship my boy."

"Yes, I-- well, no, I suppose I don't really know."

Bilbo grimaced. "No, sadly my lad, you don't."

Frodo shook his head, suddenly woozy and very aware of how long and tiring the day had been.

"Enough of this." Bilbo patted his hand. "Before we both fall asleep sitting here, off to bed. We have a long hard day tomorrow, and the next I suspect."

Frodo pushed wearily to his feet and stretched, then picked up the rest of the dishes and their glasses and carried them over to the sink. He looked up at the fog of condensation on the windowpane and wondered what kind of a situation Sam was walking into in Tighfield. Frodo could only hope that his reception was not as cold as the rain still falling on Bag End's gardens.

Shaking his head he turned and found that Bilbo had stopped on his way to the corridor and was standing in front of the kitchen door gazing down at the floor. Frodo leaned over to see what he was staring at.

Water was seeping under the door and pooling on the tiles.

***

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