Samwise Saturday

"Wake up, Samwise! "the Gaffer yelled. "Mr. Frodo's garden needs weeding, and you know you can't sleep in on Saturdays!"

"Sorry, Dad!"Sam said sleepily, rubbing his eyes. He wouldn't miss his gardening for all the world.

10 years later

What must be going on in the Shire? Sam wondered, trying to keep his thoughts off his empty stomach and aching legs. Today was the first of October, Winterfilth in Shire reckoning, a gloomy Saturday. His father, surely, would look after his garden, but Mr. Frodo's garden would be overgrown with weeds. He vowed that, the moment he and his master returned, he would put the garden right. Come Black Men, Rangers, Elves or Oliphaunts, he would weed his garden.

A year later

Would he be able to get back? But all that really mattered, now, was getting his Master to the mountain.

With his garden, Mr. Frodo's garden in mind, he trudged forward.

3 years later

Little Elanor was beautiful.

After nervous weeks, days, hours, minutes….

That glorious Saturday, the sunshine on his daughter's face was the best moment of his life.

About 67 years later

The end.

Rosie's death had broken him…that he knew all too well.

Little Elanor, maidservant of the Queen, would be fine.

Everyone else would manage.

And he would see Mr Frodo again….talk with him…live with him….

With a smile on his lips, Sam bade farewell to the Shire.

That last Saturday, he sailed to the Grey Havens.