AND ALL SHALL BE NEW

Hobbits are an industrious people so re-ordering the Shire was taking less time than Sam initially anticipated. In truth, after all the damage done by Sharkey and his minions, Sam had secretly harboured the fear that his beloved Shire would never be the same again. Of course, Mister Frodo said that it never could be the same, but that change was not always a bad thing. Mister Frodo had always been a deep thinker. At least the Lady Galadriel's gift of soil from her garden was beginning to heal many of the scars, and Sam had stopped to water the little mallorn seedling in the party field on his way up the hill.

Number three New Row was as snug a hobbit hole as anyone could wish for, with its brick lining and big windows, but Sam decided that he liked the old cob-lined and whitewashed number three Bagshot Row better. As yet, none of the refurbished holes on the row were furnished so, as Sam stood in the centre of his Gaffer's new home, it was easy to bring to mind how it had looked throughout his childhood and tweenage years.

Some of the planks in the big round door were new but it was painted the same shade of buttercup yellow that Hamfast and Bell Gamgee had always favoured. The front window was larger but still round and Sam ran a hand along the curved sill, imagining he felt the ghost of spotted wax. His Ma often set a candle there on winter evenings to welcome her husband home and, as a tween Sam had accompanied his Gaffer up the lane, drawn by that little shimmering point of golden light.

Turning away he found the old kitchen range, leaded and polished to a shine, just as Ma used to like it. It was too big and heavy to remove, but Sharkey's men had used it for the storage of some very unsavoury items, and Sam and Rose had taken personal responsibility for its cleansing. The boiler on the left, with its small brass tap, held just enough water for the kitchen sink, and Sam made a mental note to ensure that it was filled before his Gaffer moved in. To its right, the oven was big enough to take several loaves and the central fire with its hob was laid with kindling, just awaiting a spark. Sam glanced up automatically, but the layered wooden drying rack that once graced the ceiling was gone. Ma used to hang laundry there on wet winter days and a towel, ready for Hamfast to take his wash after a long day gardening.

There had once been a small wooden settle in the alcove to the left of the chimney breast, with a corner cupboard above. Its key, the only key in Number Three, always resided in Ma's apron pocket for it held her most treasured possessions . . . four sets of matching crockery that had been a wedding gift from her family. The dishes, with their pretty border of yellow daisies, had once belonged to Ma's grandma. Sam scrubbed a sneaky tear from his cheek. Like so many other things, those dishes had gone missing some time during Sharkey's occupation of the Shire, and would likely never be seen again. Bell Gamgee had cherished them, only using them on special celebration days or when Mister Bilbo called. With their loss there was no point in replacing the cupboard and Hamfast had not the heart to insist that they do so.

In the alcove to the right of the black kitchen range had once stood a huge wooden dresser on which was stored all of the family's cooking and eating dishes, pots and pans. Sam remembered helping his Ma empty and wash everything during the annual spring clean, a job Daisy hated. A new dresser was in the making, along with a chair for the Gaffer, and pots and pans were being donated by most of Hobbiton. Ma's chair, rescued from the mill just before its demolition, would soon be back in it's proper place to the right of the hearth. Bell Gamgee had nursed all her children in that rocker and no doubt Marigold would take it with her when she wed next year.

The sound of hammering and voices drew Sam to the back wall of the smial where a smaller round window looked out onto New Row's shared back yard. Through it Sam glimpsed a group of hobbits still building the privy and wash-house, shared by all three smials in the row. Construction of a new stable and pigsty would begin next week but Frodo had decided not to replace the workshop, instead allowing the land to be turned over to vegetable plots for numbers one and two New Row.

A huge square white sink stood beneath the window, and a sturdy wooden drainer had been fitted next to it only yesterday, set with a brand new water pump. Sam knew that Marigold was working on a curtain to hide the buckets and other paraphernalia that everyone collected under their sinks. Mari's was blue but Sam remembered the bright yellow one his Ma had made from Daisy's old dress.

Next to the sink was Number Three's back door, narrow and arched for there was not enough wall space to accommodate a round one. And at right angles to it was the pantry door. Not as big and fancy as the one in Bag End, yet it was lined with many shelves and had a thick marble cooling slab on the back wall. When Sam was a faunt there were times when money for food was scarce but Ma always managed to fill those shelves, and he remembered many a family foraging trip to collect fruits and nuts, mushrooms and herbs. Beneath the slab, behind the water bucket holding the milk can, had been the perfect place for games of hide and seek. It's outer wall facing north, it was cool on the hottest days, it's tiny window set with an open wire mesh to allow free circulation of air.

An arch led to the bedrooms, although one would now become a small parlour, with a fireplace planned before next winter. Sam's Gaffer had protested that he had no need of such a posh thing but, with all the children grown, Number Three had little use for three bedrooms. Mr Pippin said he would be sending some old furniture from Great Smials to furnish this new room, but Sam suspected that Da and Mari would end up sitting by the kitchen fire, as they always had.

He wondered what table would occupy the centre of the room. All Bell's children, in turn had spent many an hour playing beneath the huge oblong table that once graced this kitchen, while she chopped vegetables, skinned rabbits, kneaded bread, mixed cakes, rolled pastry, ironed laundry or cut out fabric for new clothes on the surface above. That table had been the heart of the smial, its wood as smooth as silk and almost white. Sam remembered the circling swish of the brush above his head as Ma scrubbed it each day. One leg only had been recovered from a rubbish heap and Da said it did not do to dwell on its fate. Sam suspected that the new table would be smaller.

He glanced down at the freshly laid tile floor as a shadow appeared next to his own.

"You ready, Sam?" Rose entwined her fingers with his. "You've been in here ages. Is somethin' wrong with your Da's new smial?"

Sam smiled at her. "No. I was just rememberin' how it was when Ma was with us. I wish she could see it now. I think she'd like it."

Rose leaned in to lay her head on his shoulder. "I'm sure she would." Then she straightened and gave his hand a little tug. "Come on love. Mr Frodo's got the kettle on."

Sam allowed her to lead him into the little front garden, pausing to close the freshly painted door of his old home, before following her up the hill to Bag End and his new one.

END