The Money Bag
By Talking Hawk
I was standing in Bag End for the last time, helping Mr. Frodo pack his belongings. He was coming to stay with me, and I was glad to offer my home to my master, but I feared that the visit would be short-lived. Though the hobbit didn't show it, he was getting worse off. He couldn't walk as much as he was used to, and he shuddered in pain each time he tried to take in a big breath. I knew it wasn't age; it was that cursed scar on his chest.
He stood up, hands on his hips, looking over the empty living room. He smiled sadly and said, "It should be ready for the new hobbit family to move in tomorrow. They'll love it here…" I swallowed my tears; it was indeed a beautiful hobbit hole, and it was difficult for me to believe that the garden my father and I have been working on forever would soon be handed over to someone else. But it was not for me to decide. My master could do as he wished.
"Come with me, Sam," Frodo said, and I blinked. I put down the box I was carrying, and followed him into the main hall. He strode up to a picture on the wall, and lifted its corner. To my surprise, rather than seeing a wall, I saw a small black hole about a foot long and tall. He stuck his hand into the darkness, and pulled out a large brown bag. He smiled, and handed it to me. "Here. This is for you."
I blinked at him in bewilderment, then slowly undid the string at the top. As the bag opened, the bottom of it glittered with gold. It was filled with gold coins! I looked at my master, a look of confusion on my face. Why was he giving me this?
Frodo smiled tenderly and said, "This is for all your years as my faithful servant. I don't need it anymore, so I want you to have it." I gaped, then closed my mouth and shook my head furiously. "No," I said, my brow lowering then lifting once I met his eyes again. "This isn't my pay. It's far too much." I tried shoving the bag back into his hands, but he held them up and stepped back.
"This isn't just for being my gardener," he said sternly, shaking his head. "It's for being my friend. I WANT you to have it." I blinked at him once more, looking down at the golden coins, then looked at him sadly. "I'm honored," I said carefully, "but I shouldn't be paid for our friendship. The only reward I should get for that is your friendship in return." I tried once more to give him back the bag. "You keep it," I pleaded.
"Sam," he said, his blue eyes narrowing, "I'm giving it to you, and I want you to keep it." He nudged the bag back into my arms, but then his eyes softened. "I'm worried about you, Sam," he confessed. My eyes widened. Why would he be worried about me? "I know you can take care of yourself," he said, lowering his eyes, "but you're starting a whole family. I'm worried that one of these days you may not be able to meet ends for one reason or another." Mr. Frodo then lifted his eyes to meet mine, and I could see tears forming in them. "So, please, take it." He gulped, and added, "It would make me feel better."
I frowned. How could I say no to such an argument? I would do anything to make my master happy in these days of torment for him. I slowly nodded, and put the bag in my backpack.
* * *
As soon as I returned home, I went into my living room with the money bag, lifted a loose board, and shoved it in. I covered it with the board, and ceased to think about it for many years. Mr. Frodo left the Shire and the rest of Middle Earth, and me, a year or so afterwards. I had eleven more children, and named my first son after my dear friend who he and the others would sadly never meet. Time went on, and my children grew up and got married, leaving only my wife Rosie and I in the hobbit hole. But then the worst happened.
She died. She died quickly and almost painlessly, but then I was left horribly alone. I had retired from gardening a few years earlier because of pain in my hands when I worked the earth, so I had no money. My friends Pippin and Merry, and my children, begged to help pay for the funeral costs, but I refused. I had to do this on my own.
I walked into the wood works store, searching for a coffin for my dear wife. I glanced over the cheap plain ones, but I frowned in dismay. I was a simple hobbit, who had made a simple living. However, I felt that these simple coffins would do no honor to my beloved. So, I searched on through the multitudes of caskets.
Finally, I came upon one. It was a beautiful, dark shade of brown, and it glimmered in the light. I ran my hand over the top, and realized that there were carvings along the sides and the top. I looked closer, and found that they were roses. As I examined the fine piece of woodwork, I decided that I must buy this casket for my wife. It would be my final service as her devoted husband.
I looked up at a clerk walking through the aisles of caskets. I turned to him and asked, "How much does this one cost?" The hobbit smiled and gazed at the piece of gleaming wood. "Ah, that one is a beauty. It's the most expensive one in the store." The most expensive one? I gulped. I was barely able to afford the cheap ones.
"How much exactly is it?" I asked timidly. The hobbit drew out a small notebook, and glanced down the list. When he told me the price, my eyes fell sadly. I didn't have that kind of money. Suddenly, my eyes flashed. I DID have the money. I lifted my head, and smiled at the clerk. "Could you hold this one until I come back?" A little surprised, the hobbit nodded, and I ran out of the store.
* * *
I lifted the loose board, and found that the hole was covered in cobwebs. Earnestly, I sat down on the floor, and thrust my arm inside. Soon, my hand found what it was looking for, and I withdrew it. As the bag plopped onto the wooden floor, a cloud of dust rose from the material. I smiled, and began counting the golden coins. It was enough.
Immediately afterwards, I took the bag to the store, and bought the coffin. There wasn't any money left over, to which I was relieved. I wouldn't have known what to do with the rest of it. A few days later, the funeral was held, and all the people I knew gazed in awe at my wife's beautiful casket. The women frowned a little, elbowing their husbands. Would they have bought them something so extravagant when they died? they asked. It is a bit sad when people envy the dead.
She was buried, and I cried with my friends and the mourners. Everyone left and went home, as I did. But rather than going to bed, I sat down at my desk, and began writing on a piece of parchment. Afterwards, I took the bag, the letter, and a few belongings, and put them inside my backpack. I strode out of my hobbit hole forever, never looking back.
The letter read:
"Dear Mr. Frodo,
"I am coming to join you at the Grey Havens now. The reason I write this letter instead of just telling you is that I fear that when I arrive there, I won't be able to say this. I believe once I see you again, I will weep for days on end, unable to utter an intelligible word.
"I wanted to tell you about the money bag you gave me all those years ago, before you left. I had stuck it under a loose board, nearly forgetting about it, unlike my memories of you. Mr. Frodo, my wife died. She didn't suffer, as I'm sure you did after the quest, but oh, how I miss her so. A few days ago, I went out to buy her a coffin, but as you predicted, I couldn't. I found her the most beautiful casket ever made, and feeling obligated to do her this last service, I took out the money bag.
"It was just enough to pay for the expensive coffin, but now I will think of her in peace, knowing that I did anything and everything for her – even to buy her the perfect casket. I wanted to thank you for making it possible for me to do this, and for all your years of being my master and loving friend. Thank you.
"I will see you when I arrive. I will probably be crying far into the day and night, so I would just like to let you know that if you don't have a guest bedroom, I wouldn't mind sleeping on the couch. Oh, and if you now have a family of your own, it's very nice to meet them, and I'm very happy for you. Goodbye until you finish reading this letter.
"Samwise Gamgee."
By Talking Hawk
I was standing in Bag End for the last time, helping Mr. Frodo pack his belongings. He was coming to stay with me, and I was glad to offer my home to my master, but I feared that the visit would be short-lived. Though the hobbit didn't show it, he was getting worse off. He couldn't walk as much as he was used to, and he shuddered in pain each time he tried to take in a big breath. I knew it wasn't age; it was that cursed scar on his chest.
He stood up, hands on his hips, looking over the empty living room. He smiled sadly and said, "It should be ready for the new hobbit family to move in tomorrow. They'll love it here…" I swallowed my tears; it was indeed a beautiful hobbit hole, and it was difficult for me to believe that the garden my father and I have been working on forever would soon be handed over to someone else. But it was not for me to decide. My master could do as he wished.
"Come with me, Sam," Frodo said, and I blinked. I put down the box I was carrying, and followed him into the main hall. He strode up to a picture on the wall, and lifted its corner. To my surprise, rather than seeing a wall, I saw a small black hole about a foot long and tall. He stuck his hand into the darkness, and pulled out a large brown bag. He smiled, and handed it to me. "Here. This is for you."
I blinked at him in bewilderment, then slowly undid the string at the top. As the bag opened, the bottom of it glittered with gold. It was filled with gold coins! I looked at my master, a look of confusion on my face. Why was he giving me this?
Frodo smiled tenderly and said, "This is for all your years as my faithful servant. I don't need it anymore, so I want you to have it." I gaped, then closed my mouth and shook my head furiously. "No," I said, my brow lowering then lifting once I met his eyes again. "This isn't my pay. It's far too much." I tried shoving the bag back into his hands, but he held them up and stepped back.
"This isn't just for being my gardener," he said sternly, shaking his head. "It's for being my friend. I WANT you to have it." I blinked at him once more, looking down at the golden coins, then looked at him sadly. "I'm honored," I said carefully, "but I shouldn't be paid for our friendship. The only reward I should get for that is your friendship in return." I tried once more to give him back the bag. "You keep it," I pleaded.
"Sam," he said, his blue eyes narrowing, "I'm giving it to you, and I want you to keep it." He nudged the bag back into my arms, but then his eyes softened. "I'm worried about you, Sam," he confessed. My eyes widened. Why would he be worried about me? "I know you can take care of yourself," he said, lowering his eyes, "but you're starting a whole family. I'm worried that one of these days you may not be able to meet ends for one reason or another." Mr. Frodo then lifted his eyes to meet mine, and I could see tears forming in them. "So, please, take it." He gulped, and added, "It would make me feel better."
I frowned. How could I say no to such an argument? I would do anything to make my master happy in these days of torment for him. I slowly nodded, and put the bag in my backpack.
* * *
As soon as I returned home, I went into my living room with the money bag, lifted a loose board, and shoved it in. I covered it with the board, and ceased to think about it for many years. Mr. Frodo left the Shire and the rest of Middle Earth, and me, a year or so afterwards. I had eleven more children, and named my first son after my dear friend who he and the others would sadly never meet. Time went on, and my children grew up and got married, leaving only my wife Rosie and I in the hobbit hole. But then the worst happened.
She died. She died quickly and almost painlessly, but then I was left horribly alone. I had retired from gardening a few years earlier because of pain in my hands when I worked the earth, so I had no money. My friends Pippin and Merry, and my children, begged to help pay for the funeral costs, but I refused. I had to do this on my own.
I walked into the wood works store, searching for a coffin for my dear wife. I glanced over the cheap plain ones, but I frowned in dismay. I was a simple hobbit, who had made a simple living. However, I felt that these simple coffins would do no honor to my beloved. So, I searched on through the multitudes of caskets.
Finally, I came upon one. It was a beautiful, dark shade of brown, and it glimmered in the light. I ran my hand over the top, and realized that there were carvings along the sides and the top. I looked closer, and found that they were roses. As I examined the fine piece of woodwork, I decided that I must buy this casket for my wife. It would be my final service as her devoted husband.
I looked up at a clerk walking through the aisles of caskets. I turned to him and asked, "How much does this one cost?" The hobbit smiled and gazed at the piece of gleaming wood. "Ah, that one is a beauty. It's the most expensive one in the store." The most expensive one? I gulped. I was barely able to afford the cheap ones.
"How much exactly is it?" I asked timidly. The hobbit drew out a small notebook, and glanced down the list. When he told me the price, my eyes fell sadly. I didn't have that kind of money. Suddenly, my eyes flashed. I DID have the money. I lifted my head, and smiled at the clerk. "Could you hold this one until I come back?" A little surprised, the hobbit nodded, and I ran out of the store.
* * *
I lifted the loose board, and found that the hole was covered in cobwebs. Earnestly, I sat down on the floor, and thrust my arm inside. Soon, my hand found what it was looking for, and I withdrew it. As the bag plopped onto the wooden floor, a cloud of dust rose from the material. I smiled, and began counting the golden coins. It was enough.
Immediately afterwards, I took the bag to the store, and bought the coffin. There wasn't any money left over, to which I was relieved. I wouldn't have known what to do with the rest of it. A few days later, the funeral was held, and all the people I knew gazed in awe at my wife's beautiful casket. The women frowned a little, elbowing their husbands. Would they have bought them something so extravagant when they died? they asked. It is a bit sad when people envy the dead.
She was buried, and I cried with my friends and the mourners. Everyone left and went home, as I did. But rather than going to bed, I sat down at my desk, and began writing on a piece of parchment. Afterwards, I took the bag, the letter, and a few belongings, and put them inside my backpack. I strode out of my hobbit hole forever, never looking back.
The letter read:
"Dear Mr. Frodo,
"I am coming to join you at the Grey Havens now. The reason I write this letter instead of just telling you is that I fear that when I arrive there, I won't be able to say this. I believe once I see you again, I will weep for days on end, unable to utter an intelligible word.
"I wanted to tell you about the money bag you gave me all those years ago, before you left. I had stuck it under a loose board, nearly forgetting about it, unlike my memories of you. Mr. Frodo, my wife died. She didn't suffer, as I'm sure you did after the quest, but oh, how I miss her so. A few days ago, I went out to buy her a coffin, but as you predicted, I couldn't. I found her the most beautiful casket ever made, and feeling obligated to do her this last service, I took out the money bag.
"It was just enough to pay for the expensive coffin, but now I will think of her in peace, knowing that I did anything and everything for her – even to buy her the perfect casket. I wanted to thank you for making it possible for me to do this, and for all your years of being my master and loving friend. Thank you.
"I will see you when I arrive. I will probably be crying far into the day and night, so I would just like to let you know that if you don't have a guest bedroom, I wouldn't mind sleeping on the couch. Oh, and if you now have a family of your own, it's very nice to meet them, and I'm very happy for you. Goodbye until you finish reading this letter.
"Samwise Gamgee."