Dropping his basket on the kitchen table, Frodo stepped into Bag End's extensive back garden. Having purchased a nice fresh fish in the market, on his journey home he had decided that a smothering of parsley sauce was just what it needed. Even this early in the year, he knew there would be parsley in his little herb corner.

"Sam? Sam!" Marigold's unusually aggravated voice drifted up from the shared yard behind Bagshot Row. Looking down, he could see the Gamgee's youngest, struggling from the well with two buckets of water. There was no sign of the requested Sam, so Frodo hopped the garden fence and ran to help.

"Let me have these, Marigold. I sent Sam off with a basket of vegetables to Widow Goodburrow." He took the handles from the frazzled-looking lass. "I'm afraid I forgot that it was laundry day. Is Fern Bracegirdle not coming to help you this week?"

Marigold relinquished the buckets willingly and blew a strand of copper hair out of her eyes then, when it persistently returned to plague her, reached up to shove it under her cap. "She sent word her youngest has the colic. It can't be helped and I'd have left the laundry for tomorrow, but I put the whites in to soak last night."

They had reached the wash-house by now and Frodo tipped water into the large copper, which was still only half full. Several large tubs, lined up on the floor, stood testament to her words. "It looks as though it is just we two, then." He turned up his shirt sleeves. "I'll go on filling the copper if you add wood to the fire. I just need to nip home to put my shopping away, then I'll be back."

Marigold's green eyes widened. "I couldn't ask you to do that, sir. I'll see if my Da has come home."

Frodo's heart lifted. "Has he gone visiting, then?"

Pausing in her arranging of firewood, Marigold sighed. "No, Mister Frodo. He just goes walkin'. He don't tell me where, even when I ask, but I think he walks down on the common. He once told me him and Ma used to go courtin' there. He may have got home by now." She sounded somewhat dubious.

"Don't disturb him if he is. I've helped with laundry before and I have nothing planned for the rest of the day. You continue to build a fire under the copper and I'll be back in a few minutes."

The fact that she capitulated so quickly told Frodo much about Marigold's lot. "My Ma would have tore me a strip for acceptin', but I do need help, so I thank you Sir."

As he arranged his food on the pantry slab, Frodo considered Hamfast Gamgee. He was not the only one to worry that Mister Gamgee no longer sold his potatoes at market or sat with a half in the Ivy Bush. Indeed, other than when he worked with Sam, nobody saw much of him at all. The usually garrulous Hamfast was, nowadays, quite taciturn.

A few days later Frodo stood at Bag End's kitchen window, watching Ham and Sam Gamgee at work in his vegetable plot. In truth, Sam was doing most of the work, for his da moved more slowly these days. Hamfast seemed to have lost his spark. Goodness knows, he was entitled, but it worried Frodo, nonetheless. Young as he still was, he had seen enough of Hamfast and enough of death and grieving, to find the older hobbit's behaviour disquieting. Hamfast seemed to be falling ever deeper into himself.

Grief could do that, Frodo knew only too well. As a youngster he had lost both parents, and had dealt with it quite differently. It was not until he came to live with Bilbo, and under Bell Gamgee's comforting wing, that he had finally begun to acknowledge and process his pain. Everyone grieved in their own way, and Frodo knew that Sam and Marigold took flowers to their mother's grave every week. But Hamfast's behaviour reminded Frodo of an apple, being eaten away by a canker inside.

Sam picked up the trug, containing assorted vegetables, and trotted toward the kitchen door where Frodo now stood, watching Hamfast clean rich soil from their tools.

"Hello, Mister Frodo." Sam wiped his feet on the mat before accepting Frodo's invitation to step onto the tiled kitchen floor. "We've lifted you some nice new potatoes. They'll be good, boiled with a sprig of mint. There's a good head of cabbage; he squeezed it, smiling when it gave a gratifying creak, "And some peas of course, and the lettuce is comin' along nicely, so I've cut you one of those as well. It'll go nice with those radishes I brought you yesterday; lovely with a bit of cold pie." As he spoke he unloaded, while Frodo ferried them to the pantry.

"This will keep me going for several days, Sam. If there's a glut of anything, can I rely on you pass on the excess to anyone who needs it? You don't need to ask first. Bag End produces far too much food for one hobbit, especially under the expert care of you and your father."

"Thank you, sir. I'll see to it. Our Daisy wouldn't say no to a few pea's and taters. Their garden's a mite small to feed three. And there's the widow Goodburrow. Since her daughter died last summer she's been findin' it hard to make ends meet."

"I tell you what, Sam. If you select what you think they would like, I'll deliver it. They're both on the square and I promised Daisy I would visit tomorrow."

Sam beamed. "You're kindness itself Mister Frodo. You're not obliged but you've been good to us Gamgees. Don't think we don't appreciate it, and I reckon if Da were more himself he would have told you." Both turned to watch as a silent Hamfast latched the tool shed door.

"Oh Sam, your family has been there for me, probably more times than I remember, especially your mother. I'm only doing what any good neighbour would do."

"Beggin' your pardon, sir, but no. You've not been a neighbour. You've not even been a friend. I hope you'll forgive my boldness, but you've been like family. Daisy told me you've checkin' in on her and Bartimus regular, bringin' food or little things for Bell, more often than not."

Frodo spoke past a sudden constriction in his throat. "I made a promise to your mother, and it's been a pleasure, watching little Bell thrive." He broke into a wry grin. "She's got Bartimus' eyes but the lungs were definitely a gift from her mother."

"I don't think it helps that she's teethin'," Sam replied with a chuckle. "With all but me and Marigold goin' back to their own homes, Daisy was feelin' a bit lonely while Bartimus was workin'. Marigold's taken over runnin' our smial and I'm doin' most of the gardenin' nowadays, 'cause of Da's joints. So we've neither got to visit as much as we'd like."

"How is your Da? Should he be doing any gardening at all? I'll be honest, Sam." Frodo dropped his voice. "He doesn't look well." Through the open door, Frodo watched Hamfast Gamgee limping slowly down the hill.

"His arthritis is kickin' up somethin' fierce. It seems worse since Ma left. I keep tellin' him he should retire, but he says we need the coin. I earn a fair bit doin' for you, and I thank you for it, but he's right, and I confess it would be lean pickin's if that's all we had comin' into the smial."

"Yes. I see. And I don't really need any more doing around here. I wish I did."

"Bless you, Mister Frodo. You're already givin' me more work than you rightly need to. Don't you go worrittin'. We'll do just fine. When he's havin' a bad day I can fit Da's jobs around my work here well enough. Other jobs can wait a while. As things stand, most folk are good about that."

Frodo had been checking his monthly accounts only that morning and now he had a sudden epiphany. "Sam. I wonder if you could ask your father to call in here this evening. I had a new barrel of ale delivered from Buckland last week. It should be settled by now and I'd like his opinion. I know he has a fondness for good beer."

Although Sam frowned at the sudden change of subject, but put it down to the strange Baggins temperament. "Aye, sir. I'll mention it to him. He hasn't been down the Ivy Bush since Ma's wake. I think it brings back the memory. I reckon he'll be about ready for a good half."

So it was that, after supper, Hamfast Gamgee came knocking at Frodo's door. Soon they were both settled comfortably in the parlour with a large jug of beer on the low table between them.

Frodo hid a grin as Ham took a goodly swallow of his ale, eyes lighting up for what may have been the first time since Bell's death. "So, what do you think of it. With your own brewing skills I thought you'd be the one to give me an opinion. Uncle Saradoc swears it's the best in the Shire but, as he oversaw the brewing, I think we can consider him more than a little biased."

Hamfast took another good draught and Frodo leaned in with the jug to top up his pot. "It travels well, I'll give him that. And tis clear as a new flowed spring. It pains me to say it, as you know my opinions on folks that live the other side of the Brandywine River, but tis easily as good as Borden Brewer's." He sampled another swallow before adding the rider, "I still think Filbert Spelt at the Green Dragon has him beat, though."

Frodo chuckled. "I think even Uncle Saradoc would not be too upset about coming in second, to the Green Dragon. My cousins assure me they sell the best in the Shire."

"'You should drop in and try it one day, Mister Frodo."

Frodo grimaced. "Well. I'm afraid I tend to avoid Bywater and the Green Dragon. I understand it's where Ted and Orton Sandyman do their drinking nowadays."

"Ahh. I can see where that could be a problem." Hamfast took another swig from his pot and Frodo topped it off again.

"Can I offer you some pipeweed, Master Hamfast? I have some Old Toby here."

"Wouldn't mind if I do," Hamfast grinned, fishing in his waistcoat pocket for his battered pipe, as Frodo handed over the appropriate jar from atop the mantelpiece. He noted that Ham's bent fingers were a little clumsy when packing, and took it upon himself to light a spill from the nearby candle for him.

As Hamfast drew deeply upon his pipe to get it started, Frodo packed his own. For some minutes they sat in silence, Frodo sipping at his ale and Hamfast taking deeper swallows. Frodo spoke first, deciding it was time to drop the honorifics. "How are you, Hamfast?"

His guest cleared his throat. "I'm doin' well enough, considerin'. Thank you for askin'."

Frodo could all but feel Bell standing at his shoulder, frowning at her husband. "I hope you don't think me too forward for saying it, but you seem a bit distant since Bell died. I know we all deal with loss in our own way, and I'm still rather young in your eyes, but I wondered if there was anything I could do for you?"

When Ham took a while to answer, Frodo worried that he had crossed a line. Then the older hobbit lifted his head to meet his gaze and Frodo all but drowned in the pain shimmering there. Ham cleared his throat. "I let her down at the end."

Frowning, Frodo coaxed him on. "Why do you say that? I cannot imagine you ever letting anyone down, least of all Bell."

Hamfast lowered his beer, dropping his gaze. "I didn't want her to go." He shrugged. "I kept hopin' that Bill Brockleby would come burstin' in the door with a cure."

When he began probing, were he honest, Frodo had half hoped that Ham would continue to wave away his concern. "That must have been difficult for you." He winced at his own inanity, however Hamfast seemed not to notice.

"We was married forty years, and I loved every part of it…every part of her. She told me about your offer, of writin' to Rivendell, you know. I begged her to let you but she'd have none of it. Said elvish stuff weren't for the likes of her. Made me promise not to speak to you." Hamfast took another deep swallow of his ale. "Then she asked me to help her."

"Help her, how?" Frodo asked, a little confused.

Hamfast shook his head. "Bill Brockleby had left us a full bottle of that medicine he'd been givin' her for the pain. He said as not to give her too much, 'cause it could stop her breathin'." He continued to stare down into his mug.

A shocked, "Oh," was all Frodo could come up with by way of response. Such a revelation had not occurred to him.

Now that his defences had been breached, Hamfast spilled all. "She was in so much pain but I was selfish. I wanted every last minute with her, and told her, "No". She sort of dozed off after a while and I was left to thinkin'. That's when it came to me that, if I loved her, it were the last thing I could do for her. I poured the medicine into a cup but I didn't have the heart to wake her. She was sleepin' so peaceful at last." He finished off his beer but when Frodo reached over to refill the pot he shook his head. "She never woke up. I don't think I can ever forgive myself for puttin' her through so much pain at the end."

"You did not put her through that pain, Hamfast, and in the end you decided to do as she asked."

"I did. I just wish I'd decided sooner." He accepted a lit spill to rekindled the pipe, which had burned out during his revelation.

Frodo took a deep breath, feeling the ghost of a work-worn hand upon his shoulder. "I cannot imagine being placed in your position, and I don't know what my decision would have been if I were. I do know that Bell loved you very deeply and, if there is any forgiving to be done, I am certain that she would do it."

"Do you think so? Aye. I suppose she would. That's my Bell. But can I forgive myself? I still let her down, forgiven or no."

There was an unseen nudge at his shoulder. "Only you can answer that question. May I suggest that if you can't forgive, you at least make peace with yourself? Can you live for your children?" Frodo took a deep swallow of his beer before continuing. "I hope I am not too forward, but of late it sometimes feels as though you died too. Daisy was looking forward to sharing her first child with her mother. Marigold and Sam are still quite young and need someone to lean on. You were Bell's husband but you're their father too. They miss their mother terribly but I think they miss you too. In a way, their loss of you is worse, for they see you daily but feel they cannot approach. I'll admit, my experience of death is limited, but it seems to me that grief is less painful when it is shared."

Ham pulled a large handkerchief from his pocket and blew his nose. "I have been leavin' 'em to it a bit, aint I?" He grimaced. "Sometimes you've a head older than your years, Mister Frodo. Bell always said so."

"I confess it hasn't felt that way since Bilbo left. Bell once told me that there was more to 'coming of age' than counting birthdays, and she was right. I miss her, too."

"Here, I've been so bound up in myself that I haven't had a thought for anyone else. Poor Sam's been doin' most of my work as well as his own. If I don't step up again we'll lose jobs, and that won't do. Then there's young Marigold. She's still but a lass and had to take on all her Ma's work. I've not even asked her how she's feelin'. I left most of the raisin' of the lasses to their mother but I'm goin' to have to be there for Mari now."

Now Frodo stepped in with the idea that had been fermenting in his head ever since speaking to Sam earlier. "Actually, I've been thinking about that."

"Oh yes?" Hamfast gave a small grin. "Seems to me you've been thinkin' about a lot of things; bringin' me up here, plyin' me with strong ale and a good pipe. You're gettin' as canny as yer Uncle Bilbo. Come on then. Out with it." Here, at last, was a flash of the old Hamfast Gamgee.

"You know that Bilbo left me well provided for. I have a fine roof over my head and the rents from all the properties on Bagshot Row, as well as other bits and pieces that we needn't go into. He took very little away with him." Frodo shifted, Bilbo's ring feeling suddenly heavy in his pocket.

"Bless you! You've no need to be tellin' me of your coin, Mister Frodo, and you've been very free with it, especially to my Sam. He earns more here than he ever did workin' for them Sackville-Baggins', and them with all their airs-and-graces."

Frodo only rolled his eyes at mention of his notoriously stingy relatives. "The thing is, I don't spend half of the money I have coming in and could easily afford to lose some of it. I know that you find gardening difficult nowadays."

"Aye. All them years workin' outdoors in all weathers catches up with a body in the end," Hamfast agreed as he rubbed one swollen knee. "But we need the coin."

"Precisely. I wondered if you and your family would accept a gift from me." Frodo pressed on, as Hamfast drew breath for denial. "Here me out. I would like to sign over the deeds to Number Three to you. That way you would not have to find rent and you could give up working altogether." He waited.

Hamfast straightened, his lips thinning as he carefully set down his beer. "I'm sure you mean well, Mister Baggins, but I've always provided for me and mine. The Gamgee's have never been beholden to anyone."

Frodo's heart sank and he leaned forward. "Oh dear. Now I have made a mess of things and offended you. I would not do that for the world. I did not mean to imply that you were not capable of caring for your family. It's just that you and Bell, indeed all your family, have been so good to me over the years. Please don't be offended."

Hamfast studied him for several moments, then leaned back in his chair. "You're still a youngster, so I'll take your words in the way intended." He tilted his head. "Tis a tidy offer but I don't see as I've done anythin' to earn such a present."

Frodo laughed. "Not done anything! You and Bell took me into your family. Indeed, you reminded me what a family should be. Oh, Bilbo was dear but he was tied up in his studies or dreaming of mountains most of the time. You and Bell reminded me what family could be." He dropped his head to study the foam on his beer. "I don't know how much Bell told you, but when my parents died I shut away the memories of home. I forgot what it was to be a child, loved unconditionally. Bell helped me re-open that box. Indeed, you and she didn't just show me, you let me be a part of that. Not done anything? Your entire family have done everything."

"Mercy! Did we now? Well, my Grand-da once said as how it takes a whole village to raise a bairn, and me and Bell just did what was needful. But I thank you for the noticin' of it. As for your offer… I don't hardly know what to say."

"Just say, yes. I can get the deeds witnessed and transferred to you within days. Please allow me to say thank you in this way. If not for you, then as thanks to Bell. It would please me to honour her in this way."

"For Bell, you say?" Hamfast pursed his lips in thought. "Bell would have liked for us to own our own smial, though she never pushed the matter. She was always the practical one, my Bell, and there were bairns to be fed." He allowed himself a soft smile. "I expect she'd be tellin' me not to be so daft and take what's offered in friendship."

Frodo took a deep breath at last. "Bell gave so much, to everyone. Allow me to make this gift, on behalf of all of Hobbiton. Think of it as repayment, if you wish. You have earned a quiet retirement."

Hamfast rubbed his knee again, then straightened. "I reckon I could accept it as payment and in memory of my Bell. Thank you Mister Frodo."

Frodo grinned, feeling himself enfolded in invisible loving arms that bore the faintest whiff of new baked bread. "Then, for Bell. Allow me to refill your mug and we shall drink to it."