I do not own any of these characters. They belong exclusively to Tolkien Estates, Peter Jackson, and New Line Cinema.
The sun-drenched hillside was awash in laughter and gaiety. Hobbit lads and lassies congregated together with a carefree atmosphere floating freely on the breeze. 29-year-old Elanor Gamgee joined in the festivities of Mid-Year's Day with great delight; her golden curls flying as she breathlessly danced with the young lads who possessed enough courage to request it. At times, she rather resented her father presiding over Hobbiton as Mayor since most young people were cautious not to offend her and her siblings, but she also valued his leadership. There was none like her Sam-Dad. From what her mother, the then Rosie Cotton, had said, he had been courageous and upright even before leaving on the Journey with Frodo of the Ring, but he was even more of a heroic figure having returned in one piece.
Swirling out of the arms of her partner and grasping the ribbon tied to the very tip-top of the Maypole, Elanor caught a brief sight of her father, weaving his way through the crowd of decidedly energetic Hobbits. Clapping backs over recent accomplishments and willingly accepting a pint of ale from a local brewer, Samwise Gamgee was quite the impressive figure. His golden locks hung straight on his forehead, his eyes lined with gentle creases gifted from many years of laughter and sorrow. His frame was sturdy and still retained the strength possessed in his youth. He looked every inch a capable leader, and as he determinedly made his rounds with a smile upon his cheerful mouth and a gleam in his bright eyes, Elanor felt a swell of pride beat in her breast.
She knew deep down within his heart, her Sam-Dad wished more than anything to be somewhere quiet and peaceful rather then surrounded by his acquaintances. Perhaps nestled in the boughs of a giant oak, or seated by a flowing brook, but wherever his heart's desire lay, he still remained as Mayor to the Hobbits who needed him. Formal affairs had never been his favorite pastime. Nor hers either to be honest, but Elanor tolerated such events with a radiant smile reminiscent of a sunbeam.
"Could I have the honor of this next dance, Miss Elanor?" The soft tones belonged to the manly figure of Fastred of Greenholm. Her eyes lit with good-hearted humor, and Elanor gave a delicate bob, holding her skirts out from her feet, and lifting her hand to meet his grasp. "Why certainly, Master Fastred, I was beginning to think you were ignoring me." Her voice lilted with a teasing quality, and Fastred only beamed at her in delight before swinging her onto the dance floor with great momentum.
Elanor had always enjoyed the company of Fastred, with his quiet manner and soft speech. He was in no way dull, nor was he forward like many of the young Hobbit men who were beginning to flock to her door and drive her Mother to distraction and her siblings to dreadful teasing. His hair was dark, much as she had always imagined Mr. Frodo's hair to appear, and his eyes were a sparkling blue, shining from under his brows with a sincere affection.
"Miss Elanor, what do you think of our festival this year? I can't believe they managed to come anywhere near improving from last year."
She looked up from their clasped hands, and smiled into his eyes, "I'd say that the year 1450 has been exceptional, but I still believe that a party couldn't truly achieve perfection without Gandalf's fireworks." Her eyes glowed, and her breath was coming in small gasps, "Don't you ever wish we could have been alive to see those days, to remember the time when Mr. Bilbo had his 111th birthday and Gandalf set off fireworks again near the Party Tree?"
Fastred sighed softly. He had long desired to meet Gandalf, but the elderly wizard had sailed from the Grey Havens when he was still but a child, and he had no actual memory of the ancient conjurer. "I do often imagine how it must have appeared; all bright stars and rockets, butterflies dancing with sparkling wings and the great dragon that Gandalf aroused with his magic. It must have been quite a sight indeed."
Elanor's face was reddening with exertion, but her mind was cast back to the all too brief memory she held of Gandalf; a figure cloaked in white bearing a walking stick and carrying the weight of the world upon his shoulders. She could vaguely see him floating before her minds eye, for she had looked upon him once, long ago. But memories fade with time, and every year she found him to be fainter.
Fastred drew her from her musings, with a grip beneath her elbow leading her from the floor. "Shall I fetch you something cool to drink, Elanor? You looked like you were beginning to overheat, and I do believe your father might skin me alive were he to find I had let his daughter overexert herself." At her graceful nod, he eased her onto a wooden seat facing the dancers, and slipped through the crowd of Hobbits, making for the refreshments booth.
With a smile, Elanor spotted her Sam-Dad slowly making his way toward her, and she slid across the seat to make room for his sturdy form to lower beside her on the bench. He gave a contented sigh, and with a smile reached over and carefully took her hand in his, giving it a loving squeeze. "Young Fastred's taken quite a shine to you, Elanorelle, and I can hardly blame him at that. You've grown into one of the most beautiful lasses in Hobbiton," he nudged her shoulder lightly and smiled from the corner of his eye, "much like your mother."
Her cheeks warmed to a becoming blush and she leaned her head against his shoulder, murmuring, "Sam-Dad, I could never even think of being prettier then Mother. She's held that role for so long, in all our eyes."
"Indeed she has, dearest, indeed she has."
After a brief hesitation, Sam's hand came up to cup her face, and his voice rang with hidden meaning. "I wonder if you wouldn't mind going for a brief walk with your Dad, Elanor. There's something rather important I want to speak with you about."
Her head quizzically tilted to one side, she readily agreed and stood, offering her father a helping hand up, though he hardly needed it. Fastred appeared by her side and handed her an ice cold punch, before cheerily greeting Samwise, "It's good to see you, Sir. It's one of the best Mid-Year's Day celebrations we've ever had, or at least that I can remember."
Sam clapped a hand on the young man's slender shoulder in agreement, "I don't think we've ever had such a fine time before, though Gandalf's fireworks are still very much missed." Fastred smiled disarmingly, "I don't think those particular days will ever return, Mayor Gamgee, what with wizards gone from Middle Earth, but we can at least try."
Turning to Elanor, he gave a sweeping bow, and requested in the most polite tones, "May I have this next dance, Miss Elanor?" She hesitated. "Fastred, I'm going on a walk with Dad for just a few minutes, but I'll promise you the very next jig." Her smile sparkled and she gave a gentle squeeze to his upper arm, before turning to accept her father's arm and follow him from the gaiety of laughing Hobbits. She never noticed the slow paling of the young man's features as he watched the two walk off in blithe companionship with Samwise sending one significant glance backward.
Elanor's golden curls bounced vigorously, reflecting the light as she walked beside Sam, clutching his hand tightly as she had done so often as a child. He seemed reluctant to speak and from a secret place within her heart, Elanor experienced a wave of worry creeping through her frame. The idle chitchat he was indulging in was not his real reason for drawing her from the festivities, but all she could do was wait, however impatiently.
Finally, with a deep sigh, Sam halted beside a huge oak, all bedecked in green leaves that had yet to turn brown with the arrival of Autumn. He eased down to sit upon one of the many roots extended beyond the ground's surface, and gently tugged Elanor down beside him, holding her hand, and from all appearances, desperately seeking for the correct words.
"Sam-Dad, what is it, what's happened?" Her voice was quiet and understanding, never revealing her building concern. He sighed, lifting his head to peer through the gently waving leaves at the sky so far above their cozy hideaway. Finally, he turned to her, and after brushing a stray curl from her cheek with a tender hand, he said gently, "Elanor, I've never wanted to let you go. The others will not be so painful when their time comes, but you are like a breath of fresh air to these tired bones. I've always thought of you as an Elven princess, with your otherworldly gaze and your love of things Elvish. You are much as I once was, yearning to know about the world outside our borders."
Her gaze was puzzled. "Sam-Dad, I'm not going anywhere, not for a very long time."
His eyes revealed a determination to finally have done with his errand, and he spoke decidedly. "My lovely Elanorelle, young Fastred has asked me for permission to court you and I have consented." Her face revealed nothing of her emotions, and he was swift to continue. "Of course, you know that most courtships are concluded with a wedding. If I ever believed you did not care for Fastred, I would not have granted him the privilege, but even I cannot help but see the affection that covers your eyes when you believe he isn't watching. Please, my darling, won't you say something?"
Her breath exhaled in a relieved flow of air, and she bubbled with a light laugh, laying her head against his chest and sighing in relief, "Oh, Sam-Dad, you gave me quite a start. I had no idea what you were going to say, but I never thought it would be Fastred asking permission to see me." Drawing back from him, Elanor brushed beneath her eyes with delicate fingertips, erasing any trace of the tears which had yearned to fall during his speech. Her thoughts were beginning to whirl as the full impact of his words set in.
Fastred of Greenholm had, in effect, requested her hand in marriage. The quiet Hobbit who generally remained in the background, always with a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye, always courteous and kindly toward others? Fastred had sought her out rather than any one of the other girls in Hobbiton, and he wasn't even a native of Hobbiton but rather hailed from the Far Downs nearer to the Grey Havens. She had always liked him, even when they were young children. He had always treated her like a fine lady, while others still looked down upon the Gamgee family due to their modest beginnings. She pictured his handsome face in her mind's eye, his gaze piercing through her, and thought herself ridiculous for having never before noticed the gleam of modest longing in his azure eyes.
With the knowledge of his affection finally made plain, Elanor finally understood her true feelings as well. She loved him, had since they were children, and would have no other for her husband. Turning to her Father, her eyes revealed the deepest workings of her heart and Sam released a long-pent up breath, a smile once again forming across his face as Elanor embraced him tightly, their curls mingled as she laughed.
"I love him, Sam-Dad! I truly do, only I never could see it until this moment!"
"I'm glad you realized it, because if you hadn't, I'm afraid I wouldn't have known what to do with the poor boy." His eyes twinkled with mirth. He stood and gave her a firm push back toward the sound of clear voices ringing in laughter, and she dazzled him with a great smile before hurrying as fast as her feet could fly along the path back toward Fastred.
She was swiftly engulfed in the sea of bodies, but could not locate the familiar figure she sought for so earnestly. Carefully pushing her way past her friends and acquaintances, Elanor stood on the very tip of her toes, seeking him who did not wish to be found. There, a flash of dark hair, a figure leaning against the shadowed corner of a party tent, his arms crossed, and head bowed in consternation. Her heartbeat sped up as she stepped beyond the celebration, enclosing herself and Fastred in a closed bubble which the world could not burst. His eyes lifted and their gazes met and locked. Doubt shone from his blue eyes, but he stepped forward just the same, coming partially into the light. His slender fingers reached out and without hesitation she moved the last few steps separating them and placed her hand willingly in his palm. His touch closed around her fingertips, and she reached up to gently brush away the dark locks from his eyes, refusing to break their gaze.
His voice was a low whisper, brushing along her skin in a lover's caress. "You came."
Hers was equally as soft, just as gentle. "You asked."
"Why did you wait so long?" Her question emerged unexpectedly, and his dark head bowed, ebony curls brushing against her temple. "I never thought I could win you, Elanor, never believed I was good enough. I still don't, but I," he faltered briefly, before renewing his claim, "I love you, I always have. I just never found the courage to speak of it until now."
"Somehow, I always knew you were my match, but could never articulate my emotions before this moment." Her fingers caressed his cheekbone, following the gentle curve of his skin. "I would be honored if you would court me, Fastred of Greenholm." A smile lit his features and without caring for those watching, his head lowered and he bestowed a righteous kiss upon her pert lips, with all the love and care of a husband-to-be.
Then with a vigorous "Woohooo" emitting from his lips and drawing quite a few stares, Fastred took her by the hand and tugged her to the center of the gathering. He clambered onto one of the long tables, and after lifting Elanor up to stand at his side, he shouted, "To all the Hobbits present today, I have incredible, fantastic, amazing news! I've been given permission to court Miss Elanor Gamgee, and she has consented!" The cheers echoed from all corners of the crowd, hands reaching up clap Fastred on the back, arms gently embracing Elanor, and the celebratory drinks were toasted to the young couple.
High above the gathering, Samwise Gamgee stood watching, a satisfied smile at rest upon his features. He knew Fastred was the perfect match for his young Elanor, and she would never be in want for anything while in the young man's care. The loss had eased somewhat, though he knew a part of himself would continue to dwell with Elanor no matter where she lived. His precious firstborn, his Elven daughter was complete.
Turning with an aged sigh, Sam walked among the trees, his heart and mind swept toward the West, toward Valinor where his spirit had long dwelled with another of its kind. His time in Middle Earth would someday end, and he would rejoin Frodo. He had often dreamed of such a day and it was now beginning to approach. Once his beloved children were cared for by loving spouses, and his precious Rosie had passed on, there would be nothing left binding him to Middle Earth. But it was not this day. He turned from that vision and walked back down the hill toward the jewel that was his daughter and her newfound love. There was no place like home.
The End
December 17, 2004 ©