It wasn't quite what he expected -- a convoluted tangle of old dusty rope hanging from the wall behind a table. Sam cocked his head sideways and then down trying to follow the revolutions of the rope in the knot. "Since Anson ain't interested, I'll put my mind to untyin' it one day, when Uncle Andy's ready," Hamson smiled tightly at him. Sam could tell Hamson had no idea yet how to do so, just from how his voice sounded when he said it. He turned his head the other way and looked closer. There weren't no ends, far as he could tell. How could you untie a knot that didn't have no ends to it? Sam looked out the door to the rope-walk. Twist, Mardel, and Jack, the three workers that Hamson had introduced him to, were working on making fairly long ropes out there. They worked quickly and quietly, the rope forming between them as Jack turned the crank that twisted the yarn into strands, while Twist, who was nicknamed after what he did best, handled the sledge and the hook that held the twisting strands on the other end, and Mardel walked the top forward, laying the rope as he walked. They were fast. Sam was surprised at how quickly the ropes were coiling up in the crates that were waiting. "I'll show you some of the kinds of rope we make, if you like," Hamson offered. "And where the hemp's spun into yarn." "And the real long ropes that they use on the sailing ships?" "Well, we ain't made any of those in a while, unless Cord brought in orders for 'em. But the process is the same as what they're doing out there -- just longer." Sam looked back at the rope snaking out between Twist and Jack, wondering if Hamson would let him try his hand at it. Mardel looked up and gave him a gap-toothed grin. Hamson had told Sam that Mardel lost his front tooth when one of the longer ropes snapped and the top cracked him in the mouth. That, Hamson said solemnly, was why none of them smiled while they were working. The three workers had laughed and even Hamson had smirked at Sam's look of dismay before he had realised it was a joke. But Sam still wanted to take home a rope he'd made himself. "Samwise!!" came a shout from the front. Sam turned to see his Uncle Andy standing there, a broad smile on his face. A black and white dog slipped in beside him. His uncle covered the space between them so quickly than Sam didn't have time to wonder if it was proper to hug him or not. He was almost picked up off the ground, until Andwise realised how big Sam had grown and settled for pounding him joyfully on the back. The dog, apparently Halfred's shepherd Blackie, limped around them happily, barking at the excitement. Sam grinned and swiped at his eyes. His uncle hadn't changed much. Just greyer and more wrinkles around his eyes, but still the same boisterous, cheerful hobbit he remembered. Like-- like his da used to be a long time ago. "Look at you! When Hamson here told me you was come, I had to run up and break the news to Cammie. I couldn't believe it," Andwise said breathlessly. "She's on pins and needles waiting up there." Sam blinked and felt his throat tighten. His Aunt Cammie. Andwise slapped Hamson on the shoulder as well. "I hope your brother comes in today like he promised. He won't believe this. Our Samwise come to visit." "Well, it ain't exactly a visit," Hamson said stiffly. Sam looked down at his hands. Now his uncle was going to get upset with him for leaving home as well. He wondered if Aunt Cammie would understand. He felt his uncle's hand on his arm, pulling him farther into the room where the dusty old Gammidgy Knot hung on the wall and he looked up to see that Andwise had Hamson by the arm as well. Even Blackie was suddenly subdued; limping over to curl up under the table in what was apparently his appointed spot. "I'm saying Samwise has come to visit and suddenly your tail's all in a knot? What's got into you?" "I told you. Da didn't toss him out. He just walked out. Left 'em with a storm comin'. All over some-- some moony tweeny thing. " Sam felt his face go red. "I didn't just walk out. He-- he wouldn't let me stay." "He wouldn't let you stay and tween with who you liked, so you left. That's what you told me." Hamson pulled a length of rope out of his pocket and proceeded to knot it one-handed. Sam felt his insides knot up as well. "You know your da, Hamson," Andwise broke in. "And you know this like wasn't Samwise's doin'." "Well, now Da and the girls are without a strong back and he knew it was gonna storm." "Ain't exactly fair to hold Samwise captive to your decisions, boy." Andwise leaned close to Hamson. "I bet there've been a lot of storms since you and Halfred walked out that door." Hamson's mouth snapped shut and it was his turn to redden. Sam blinked, not sure where he should be looking. There was a lot going on here that he didn't understand, and he wasn't sure he wanted to. "Cammie's asked me to bring Samwise here up for second breakfast. You want to come join us?" "I got to get with Cord and see what orders come in," Hamson said stiffly, glancing quickly at the hobbits in the rope-walk as he knotted and re-knotted his piece of rope. "I saw him outside. He tells me the Post'll likely bring us word today on what really went on in Hobbiton, so keep your eye out for the rider. And Cammie wants you and Abby and Manny up for lunch. Hopefully Halfred'll be in by then." Sam watched his Uncle put a hand on Hamson's shoulder. "We have something to celebrate I think, don't we Hamson?" Hamson glanced at Sam then back at his uncle. His mouth quirked upward ever so slightly. "Yessir. I suppose we do at that." Andwise grinned. "Come on, Samwise. Your aunt's waitin' for you up the hill." *** Sam felt as if his head was spinning around, things were going so fast. He wanted to sit down somewheres quiet and sort it all out. Instead, he was climbing the hill behind the rope works with his uncle and hearing about every other word Andwise was saying. Blackie was attempting to help by limping after them, herding them up the hill as if they were sheep. "Don't let what Hamson said upset you, Samwise," Andwise said. "He's been needing to get something off his chest for a long time. And now, with Manny-- Well, he really wants to take Abby and the baby to Hobbiton to see your da." Sam couldn't fathom that at all. That would be a day to celebrate sure. Andwise peered at him. "You're awful quiet, Samwise. You normally this quiet?" Sam had to think on that for a moment. "The girls talk a lot," he blurted out. His uncle laughed and Blackie barked in response. "I imagine they do." He shook his head. "Three of 'em in a hole. I imagine they do." Sam noticed the flower garden cascading down the hill from their smial before he even saw the smial. It looked familiar somehow. He stopped to study on it. Blackie didn't like this turn of events at all and crossed back and forth behind him nervously. Andwise didn't notice until he had reached the porch. He came back smiling. "It was Cammie who tended it, before. I been doin' my best since," he said. "What do you think?" "It's just like the front garden of Bag End; the piece from the gate up to the door," Sam breathed. "The spacing and the flowers. And those roses there--" He turned and looked up at his Uncle. "Da is real prideful of it. The way it blooms all season long." "I knew you'd see it. Ham planted it." His Uncle grinned proudly. "We worked real hard-- Well, Cammie worked real hard to keep it the way it was back then; back when your Grandda Hobson and Gammer Iris were alive." Sam stepped farther down the hill to look at it better, throwing poor Blackie into a tizzy. "She's a marvel, my Cammie. Come on. She's likely sitting there in her chair watchin' us down here and about to pop." Sam followed him, still gaping at the flowers. Blackie, content that they were finally headed in the right direction, sat at attention on the porch, apparently guarding his flock from whatever might come up from the road. Andwise pushed the door open. "Come on. Come on." He motioned Sam inside. "See, Cammie. Here he is." Sam blinked for a moment in the dimness of the hole until his eyes adjusted. It wasn't really that dim. The front parlour was bright with light from the overly large window that bowed out over the garden with a view of the town and the fields stretching out below. Sam hadn't seen a window that big anywheres, not even at Bag End. In front of the window, seated in a big wingback chair that allowed her to look out across the view while she worked, was his Aunt Cammie. "Samwise." He only had a brief glimpse of dark hair and ivory skin before he saw her outstretched arms and crossed the room quickly to kneel in front of her on the floor. Before he could ask if it would hurt if he hugged her, she had wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tightly. Closing his eyes, Sam breathed deep of that smell he remembered so well. She smelled like her name. "Oh, Sammy," she whispered in his ear. "Sammy, Sammy." It made his heart twist in his chest to hear her use that name. He tried hard not to cry, but no one had called him that since his mum. He felt tears spill down his cheeks as she rubbed her hand up and down his back soothingly. "I'm so sorry. We should have brung you all home with us. You and Daisy and May and Marigold. You needed a mum," she whispered. "I'm so sorry, Sammy." "Da would'a been lonely without us, I'm thinkin'," Sam whispered back. "That he would." She pulled back and looked at him, taking his face in her hands. "That he would." She smiled and he saw the wrinkles that hadn't been there before around her eyes and her mouth, and the silver hair threaded through the dark. But she was still so very lovely. "Oh my. You-- you do look so like your mum, but you have your da's eyes." Camellia looked up at her husband. "Doesn't he, Andy?" "He does." "And how are they? Little Marigold and May? And dear Daisy? Cord tells us they are all beauties and wonderful cooks and seamstresses, every last one of them." Her eyes danced mirthfully. "They are. Well, they're all beautiful. But not so little any more," Sam said, trying to think how to tell her all there was to tell about his sisters. "Marigold is a wonderful cook. And May is a really good seamstress. And Daisy-- Daisy makes mum's bread pudding and she keeps the hole clean as clean." Camellia laughed. "Let the boy relax, Cammie. I suspect his head's spinning. I'll get us some tea and some toast and jam." Andwise disappeared into what Sam assumed was the kitchen. "I don't want to let him go, Andy," she said. "Here, Samwise, you sit right here so I can keep my hands on you. I'm not letting you get away from me." Sam scrubbed at his face as he turned to sit on the floor at her knee. She combed her hand through his hair and he wondered if he smelled to her of the road and the mud and the pony blankets in Cord's waggon. "I-- I can't stay long. There was a storm when I left and Da likely needs me. The girls need me." "Cord told me the Post passed 'em last night on the road and said there was rumours of damage in Hobbiton," Andwise said loudly from the kitchen. "Trees and chimneys down. We'll know for sure when the Post comes through today, then we'll decide who goes back -- and when." "Andy tells me you left over a disagreement with your da," she said softly. Sam didn't know how to answer that. His da wouldn't have him stay, so he had to go. "Because you're tweening?" Sam looked down. "Or because you're tweening with someone he doesn't approve of?" Sam didn't think he could ever explain it to anyone plainly, even his Aunt Cammie. "He don't approve it. That's certain." "So he told you you had to leave, just like that?" "No. He gave me a choice, but it weren't much of one." "So he said you could stay, but--?" Sam nodded. "But I could'na see-- him, nor talk to him, nor t-- touch him ever again," he whispered. "And if you did those things?" "I wouldn't be a part of the family any more. Like Hamson and Halfred." "So you left." He nodded. She was thoughtful for a long moment. "He must be a fine hobbit if my Samwise is taken with him." "The bestest of hobbits." Her hand stroked his hair again, but she didn't ask any more questions. Andwise brought in a tray full of a great deal more than just tea and toast and jam and set it on a low table that seemed made for just this. He pulled up a low stool and Camellia proceeded to pour the tea. Sam wondered how often his uncle came up from the rope works and sat here to take his meals with his aunt. Seemed they were comfortable with it, like it was the normal state of things. "So, Cammie love, do you think perhaps Hamson is right? Perhaps the time has come to try to fix things. What with Samwise here, and what Halfred's told us--" Camellia shut her eyes. "I suppose. I'm just--" She took a deep breath and shook her head. "Afraid we'll make it worse? I don't see how it could be much worse'n this," he responded softly. Camellia opened her eyes and looked at Sam, then sighed and poured the tea. "Anyways, Hamson's chompin' at the bit to take that baby on the road as soon as Abby's ready," Andwise went on. "Abby doesn't know the whole of it," Camellia replied. "And Hamson thinks little Manny is the cure-all for anything-- just because the babe melted his heart--" "Well, perhaps it's time to tell the story -- the whole of it -- to all of 'em and see what comes of it." Sam froze as he reached for the cup she was handing him. He didn't want to have to repeat his tale once again. "To all of 'em?" Camellia touched his arm. "Not your story, Samwise. Your story's for you to tell and for you to decide the ending," she answered. "This is an old, old story that we only have pieces of, but I think we have enough now to tell it." She looked at Andwise. "And perhaps the time has come when it needs to be heard." Sam frowned. "Sounds like something Mister Bilbo would understand. He knows all about pieces of old stories and the like." "I imagine the old hobbit does," Andwise agreed. *** Bilbo, still in his nightshirt and robe, was standing precariously close to the cascade of water off of the roof, peering into the garden. It was clear only the old hobbit's sense of self-preservation was keeping him on the kitchen porch. Frodo looked over Bilbo's shoulder and saw the source of his dismay. The Gaffer, with poor Marigold, or he assumed that was Marigold under the dripping cloak, was trying to repair the posts of a large vine-laden trellis that had been blown over in the wind. Frodo could see where the posts were broken off at the base. They both needed to be reset and made plumb or the whole thing would just go over again with the weight of the old vine. If they would just leave it for now, until Sam came back, he could manage to replace those posts easily. Sam's garden was like the countryside in miniature. Whole sections were untouched, but parts had been completely uprooted and tossed about. It could be repaired and replanted -- with Sam's strong back and Sam's skilful hands. Just then, the Gaffer's hand slipped and he sat down on a rosebush with a sickening crunch. Marigold was left holding the weight of the trellis alone. There was a muffled squeak as the entire structure canted forward over her. Frodo shouldered past Bilbo into the rain, grabbed the trellis until Marigold could get out of the way and then carefully laid it back down where it had fallen in the first place. He took a deep breath, aware a misstep here could make things worse than they already were, and turned to watch the Gaffer regain his feet in the mud. "The Post says more rain's on the way. It's likely anything you replant today will be washed down hill," he said quietly. "And I don't think you should be wasting your fine efforts just to see them end up in the river." Marigold hovered anxiously next to her father's shoulder as he staggered a bit, ignoring Frodo and reaching down for the trellis. Frodo took a breath and put his hand out, touching the old hobbit's arm. "We value you and your expertise far too much to have you risking it this way," he said firmly. Those eyes, so much like Sam's, narrowed as the Gaffer searched Frodo's face then gazed over his shoulder at Bilbo silhouetted in the kitchen door. He straightened stiffly. "Let's get the tools put up then, Mari. Mayhap the Master's right. Mayhap it's best to wait till it dries out some." Frodo caught the flash of Marigold's relieved smile in his direction as she retrieved the barrow and tools and followed the Gaffer's limping walk back to the shed. Catching a glimpse of white, Frodo leaned over to pluck a broken stem out of the muck. The rose bush was budding, or had been. Frodo retrieved the rest, thinking to put them in water. Perhaps they would flower in spite of it all. Sam would know. He closed his eyes tiredly. Sam would have something positive to say about all this, surely. His absence was like an aching void -- the cheerful whistling, the bashful smile, the soft discussions with his plants, the way he smelled when he came in from the garden, and the way he fussed when his rough fingers caught and pulled at the linen of Frodo's shirt-- "Frodo?" Bilbo said quietly. Rubbing at his neck, Frodo turned to head in the door, brushing by Bilbo and going to the cabinet to find an old pitcher. He dumped the stems in it and went over to pump water. "Perhaps they'll bloom anyway," he said, setting them on the table. "You handled that quite well, I must say." Bilbo sat down to finish his tea, which was likely lukewarm. "Stubborn old hobbit." "How are you feeling? Speaking of stubborn old hobbits." "I am feeling every one of my years today, my lad. Every one." He sipped at the tea. "I heard what you said about the Post. So, more rain is coming?" Frodo recited the trail of damage from Bindbale Wood to Frogmorton and Bilbo drooped still further. "The Water doesn't even look like itself any more. It looks, well, angry and swollen. It's under the Watch mark, but bound to reach it if the rain keeps up." Bilbo grunted assent. "I want to do something. Go back upstream and cut it a new course to the sea. Dam it up. Anything to make it stop," Frodo said numbly. "A bit like trying to stop the sun from setting or the wind from blowing," Bilbo responded. "You love that land out there and the Water is a part of it. Without the river--" "Well, there's the river, yes. But then there is the flood. There is a difference." "But you know the flood has its purpose too, in the greater scheme of things. Certainly the flood may wash out the road and deposit the soil in the lower field. But you just move the road over here, and you have more fertile land down there. And things wash away, yes. But all manner of things tend to show up as well." Bilbo seemed to have cheered himself up with that little discussion. "Oh Bilbo," Frodo shook his head, holding up his hand. "Don't start quoting something about Ulmo or Manwë at me. Not today." "Well, now that you mention it, there are references--" Frodo pushed away from the table. "I concede. I'll accept whatever the river throws at us. For the moment, I'm heading up towards Overhill to clean up a tree the wind threw at the road." He smiled when Bilbo grimaced at him. "I don't know when I'll be back. Is Daisy--" "She's coming up later to see after me and bake us some bread. No worries about me lad. Watch after yourself out there, clambering about in trees. It's unnatural." Frodo declined to say anything about how unnatural it was to be chased up them by wolves and headed for the door. *** "Da just keeps poking at the gardens, and it pourin' rain down on his head," Marigold said as she sliced a potato. "It's what he knows," Daisy responded. "Well, Mister Frodo told him to leave it be. Perhaps now he'll wait till Samwise comes home." "Shhhhhh!" Daisy snapped, twisting around to look at the doorway into the parlour. Marigold frowned. "Mister Frodo was the one as said it. I didn't." "Just finish that. Mister Bilbo'll be back in here any minute and lunch not even in the pan." The kitchen was silent except for the sounds of chopping and stirring. They could hear the rain against the roof and the windows, and the fire hissed now and again as some managed to make it down the chimney. "Why does Da not want Samwise and Mister Frodo to tween?" Marigold asked. Daisy spun around, her eyes wide. "Mari--" "Is there something bad about tweening? Does he not want you to tween neither?" Daisy set her bowl on the table and brushed off her hands on her apron, turning to face her sister. "There's nothing bad with tweening and Da don't care if I tween," she said firmly. "So why don't you? Or are you sneakin' around like Samwise too?" "No!" Daisy looked around anxiously, then lowered her voice. "I just-- I don't have much time for that kinda thing. That's all." "But he-- Well, didn't he tell Sam--" "You should'na been listenin'--" "You were!" Marigold retorted. Daisy sighed. "Da-- Well, Da thinks that Samwise shouldn't be tweening with Mister Frodo because he's gonna be the Master someday." Mari seemed to think about that for a while. "Because Frodo'll have land and tenants like Mister Bilbo, and Samwise won't?" Daisy frowned, wondering where this was all going. "Well, yes. Them as have land-- they're rich and-- Well, we're not rich, that's certain." "So, you-- you can't tween with someone like-- well, like Rosie Cotton?" Daisy had to think about that for a moment. She picked up her spoon. Leastwise they weren't talking about Mister Frodo no more. "Well, Rosie's pretty and fun, so if I was inclined to, I think I could," Daisy thought about it a while. "But she's a bit too young yet, like you." "But if she was-- Old enough I mean. Tweenin' with her would be proper, even though her da owns land and all?" Daisy sighed. This was all too tangled up for her to follow. "I think it would. They don't own our land. And none of the Cottons have ever put on airs or acted like they was better'n us." Mari frowned. "But Mister Frodo don't put on airs. Nor Mister Bilbo either." Her eyes widened. "Do they own us too? Like they own the land?" "No! Heavens no. What are you gettin' at Mari Gamgee?" Daisy asked. "Put down that knife afore you cut off something important." Mari blushed and laid down the knife. "I-- I was thinkin' about who I would tween with, if I was old enough to. And I like Rosie. But-- I don't want Da to be mad and throw me out too!" she said quickly, wringing her hands before her. Daisy grabbed Mari's hands and shook them. "You twit. Da's not going to throw you out. Don't be thinkin' that, nor sayin' it." Tears welled into Mari's eyes. "But he threw Samwise out. And he was just tweenin', like Cole is, him and Tin. And he threw Halfred and Hamson out when they was tweens. So I thought maybe they were tweenin' too. And I thought maybe tweenin' was bad, or leastwise Da thought it was bad." Daisy pulled the chair around with her foot and pushed Mari down into it, kneeling down in front of her. "Da was upset with Samwise 'cause he was sneakin'. You know how Da hates sneakin'." "But he said--" "Da thought that Samwise didn't really want to be tweenin' with Mister Frodo, and that's why he was sneakin'. So, he thought maybe Mister Frodo was-- Well, that he was makin' Sam--" Mari's eyes flew wide. "Mister Frodo wouldn't never! He's-- he's--" "I know Mari. He's the kindest, most gentlest hobbit you'd e'er want to know," Daisy soothed. "Da just-- well, he don't see the same things we do sometimes." Mari was thoughtful. "I think it's 'cause of the S-Bs. Cause they're mean and spiteful to him and Samwise. He thinks all of their kind is mean and spiteful. And Lotho is a nasty, awful--" "Mari!" "Well he is. He said some horrid things to Peony, and her trying to help his da. He's just-- I don't like him." Daisy breathed deep. "And Lotho Sackville-Baggins is exactly the kinda hobbit that Da is worried on. He don't want Samwise, nor any of us, thinkin' to tween with his like, no matter what Lotho did or said he would do. He'd as soon tell Lobelia to do her own laundry or old Otho do his own gardenin', than to have any of us think we have to do sommat like that just to get work -- just to get by." Mari frowned. "Well I know that. I'm not a ninnyhammer." Daisy snorted. "So, why did Samwise go then? If he weren't doin' nothin' wrong?" Daisy sighed. "Cause he loves Da, but he loves Mister Frodo too. It's a Gammidgy Knot and he had to go off and think for a bit. See how he could solve it." "All the way to Tighfield?" Daisy stood. "Well, that's where the real Knot is. I'm thinkin' he's lookin' at it about now, trying to sort it." "Hmmmpf. Well, I don't see as why he couldn't just stay here and think on it. Now Mister Frodo's all sad and Mister Bilbo's gone and got hurt and Da's banged hisself up too!" "I'm thinkin' you're right, Mari. Samwise needs to come home afore we're all laid up one way or another." Daisy shook her head. "Now get back up here and get that fry-up put together quick. And stop worriting. Samwise'll work out that knot and come home and Mister Frodo'll keep us all from washin' away. Get to work." Mari picked up her knife and went at the potato with renewed enthusiasm. They heard the front door open and shut and Bilbo blow out a breath. "There cannot be any more water left in the heavens!" Daisy quickly rubbed her hands on her apron, heading through the parlour to help him out of his cloak, and nearly ran into the Gaffer who had stepped forward to do the same. "Well, Gaffer! I didn't know you were waiting in here! I'll manage, Daisy," Bilbo said, shrugging off his cloak and hanging it up with one hand. "Gaffer, come and have some tea with me." Daisy felt her face flush hot. The Gaffer must've been standing there in the parlour all that time. He'd heard every word! She couldn't even look at him, but turned on her heel and trotted back into the kitchen. "I've got all the exercise I need today just walking down to the barn and back, much less getting dressed with one arm," Bilbo exclaimed. "I shall never joke about doing anything with one hand tied behind my back again." Daisy found Mari standing pale and wide-eyed, staring into the parlour. "Finish the potatoes!" Daisy whispered, and hid her fluster in getting the tea made. Bilbo bustled in, still shaking water drops out of his hair, followed by the Gaffer, whose face had gone a bit pink. "I just come up to see if the girls was bein' of help." "They are indeed. I never understood how much you need both your hands when you are doing something as simple as making tea. But I have stolen them away from you--" "Oh, no sir. They're fine. May's takin' good care of me." "Excellent." Bilbo looked around at the three Gamgees in his kitchen who appeared to be trying hard not to look at each other. "So, tea then?" ***
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