Chapter 6: Bell Goodchild

I was woken by a banging on the door. I listened for a moment, but Bilbo seemed to be sleeping through the noise, and I sighed worriedly and got up. Who could it be at this hour?

I hurried into the front hall and opened the door. Sam Gamgee stood outside, shivering and crying.

"It's my mum, Mr. Frodo. She's real sick. Da needs help."

"Come inside, Sam! That's it. Now what do you need?" I pulled Sam inside and drew the child into a hug. Sam sobbed against my shoulder, too distraught to care about propriety, and I gently stroked his unruly curls. "Have you sent for the doctor?" I asked.

"Uh huh. He's coming now. But we haven't got no money for doctors, so we didn't send till Da got real worried. Don't know how we're gonna pay the bills, but mum's terrible sick."

"Never mind that, Sam, I'll pay it out of my own pocket. Now what can I do?"

"We need more blankets and hot water bottles, and someone to look after Marigold."

"Bring your sister up right away. I'll go and wake Bilbo. Here, take some blankets back with you. I'll be down in ten minutes."

"Thanks Mr. Frodo." Sam sobbed. I patted his back, piled blankets into his arms and sent the tween on his way.

Fifteen minutes later, Bilbo was walking up and down Bagshot Row with a fussy Marigold in his arms, and I found myself sitting on the floor of Bell and Ham's bedroom, rubbing Sam's back and watching the doctor's grim face as he examined Bell.

"There is nothing I can do." the doctor said finally. "I am sorry."

Ham buried his face in his hands. The doctor touched his shoulder in a gesture of sympathy. "I have given her something for the pain."

Ham didn't answer, but the doctor understood. He looked around at the distraught family. "May I do anything for you? Even a simple errand?"

"No, thank you, sir." May whispered. She was trembling slightly, but her face was set and resolute. The Gamgee spirit ran strong in her. "We'll get by."

The doctor nodded. Then he quietly left the room.

I suddenly realized that Sam was sitting in my lap, sobbing into my shoulder, and that I had been rocking Sam back and forth in an effort to comfort the boy.

Bell coughed and opened her eyes, and held her hand out to her husband. The Gaffer moved quickly to take it.

"Bell, me sweet woman. Did you hear the healer?"

"I don't need to hear no healers." she whispered. "Haven't I known I was dying for hours now? Bring the children to say goodbye."

One by one, Hamson, Halfred, Daisy and May moved to their mother's bedside and said their farewells. Daisy nearly broke down, and had to be taken out by Hamson and May. I looked down at Sam, curled up in my lap.

"Sam lad, come say goodbye to your mother. Come on."

I lifted the sturdy little boy in my arms and carried him to Bell's bedside. Bell reached up and took Sam's face in her hands.

"Sam, darlin'. I love you."

Sam choked on a sob and reached out to hug his mother. "Mum–"

"It's all right, lad." she soothed. "You remember what I told you about dyin'. It's only for a little while. You be a brave boy, and help your father an' your sisters. Look after Mari for me."

Sam nodded.

"Good lad." Bell whispered. Then she looked up at me. "Mr. Frodo, thank you."

"Of course, Mrs. Gamgee." I said gently. My heart ached for her. "I'll look after Sam, if that's any comfort to you."

Bell sighed. "Thank you." she breathed. "The baby–"

Like magic, Bilbo appeared with Marigold, and Bell held her youngest daughter and kissed her forehead. Then she began to gasp for breath. Ham knelt at her side and held her hand. Sam turned his face into my shoulder and fought back his tears. Daisy, May and Hamson came crowding back into the room. And then Bell let out a breath and didn't take another.

The Gaffer spoke more gruffly after that. May got little worry lines around the corners of her mouth, and she gave up going to most of the parties and picnics for a while. Poor little Marigold seemed to cry a lot more. Sometimes, if I stood in my front garden, I could hear her wailing. Hamson had to go back up north after the funeral, and this time Halfast followed him. They sent most of the money home for the family. I felt rather helpless. The only thing I could think to do was to keep my promise and look after Sam. Sam, however, didn't want to be looked after. He didn't talk much for a while, and he stopped coming for his reading lessons. I understood all too well what he was feeling, and I gave him some space.

One night at about seven, I was sitting in the garden, whistling good night songs to the birds and smiling when they whistled back. I heard a small noise behind me, and I turned to see Sam standing awkwardly, watching me.

"Hullo, Sam." I said. "What can I do for you?"

He squirmed. "I don't know if it's right to ask you this, you bein'...well, you bein' you, and me bein' me, but…"

I smiled and patted the grass beside me. Shyly, Sam sat down and ran his fingers through the grass.

"You can ask me anything in the world, Sam." I said gently.

He blushed. "Well…uh…I know it's a private matter, an' if you don't want to answer, I understand that well enough. But I was wonderin', how did you feel when your parents died?"

Oh, poor Sam. I put my arms around him and pulled him into a hug. Sam went stiff and rather red in the face, but he quickly relaxed a little. Like most hobbits, he adored hugs.

"I felt some of everything, I suppose." I said. "I was very sad, and a bit angry. I felt helpless, and maybe a little guilty that I hadn't prevented it somehow, and I was really, really scared. I didn't know what was going to happen to me, or how I could go on living when my whole world had changed."

"And what did you do when people talked to you about it?" Sam asked timidly.

"I didn't like to talk about it." I said. "Well, that's not completely true. I wanted to tell someone how I was feeling, to let it all out. But most people would just say 'move on', or 'choose to be happy', and that didn't make me feel any better. So I didn't talk to anyone, until I moved in with Bilbo. He was so understanding. When I would tell him how I felt, he would just hug me and tell me it was all right to feel whatever I needed to."

Sam nodded. "I don't like to talk either." he mumbled.

I kissed the top of his curly head. "Sam lad, you know, if you want to tell me how you're feeling, I'll listen."

He buried his face in my shoulder. "Can't." he said in a muffled voice. "I shouldn't even be talkin' to you about this."

But he made no move to leave. Eru help me know what to say.

"Sam." I said softly. "You always obey my orders, right?"

"Yeah."

"Then I am going to give you an order right now. I want you to forget everything, just for ten minutes. I want you to forget that I'm rich and grown up and a gentlehobbit and everything else you think about me. For ten minutes, we're just going to be Sam and Frodo, and you can tell me anything you want. Do you understand?"

Sam nodded slowly. He still had his face hidden in my jacket, and I patted his back.

"I'm so scared." he whispered at last. "I don't know how I can live without my mum. I want to be a brave lad like she told me, but I just can't, and I feel like I'm doin' somethin' wrong by cryin' all the time and all. And I know she wouldn't want me to be angry. She said when she lost my sister–you remember, the babe 'tween me and Marigold, the one that was born and never took her breath–back then, Mum said that you can't be angry when hard things happen, else you'll never be happy. But I can't help but feel so angry. It ain't fair that she had to die."

He clenched his little fists and sobbed.

I cradled him in my arms. "Oh, my sweet Sam. There, cry it out, lad. I've got you."

When Sam's sobs quieted, I offered him a silk handkerchief (Bilbo had a special obsession with carrying a handkerchief at all times) and Sam blew his red nose and mumbled "Thanks, Mr. Frodo sir."

So friend time was over, then. I felt a little pang of loss. But this wasn't about me, I sternly reminded myself, even though I felt Sam's pain very personally. What was I going to tell Sam?

In the end, there was nothing I could say-nothing I could do to fix things for him. We talked a bit about how he should let himself cry, how he could trust his da to keep the family together and how it wasn't his fault. That made Sam feel better, I could tell. The lad tended to feel things so deeply, he just wanted to fix everyone's problems, and hearing that he didn't need to do that was rather comforting, I think. But after a while, the Gaffer called Sam to help him in the orchard, and we had one last hug before Sam was gone, leaving me sitting alone in the grass and rubbing the clean corner of my handkerchief between my fingers. I sat there a long time.

But after that talk, Sam starting coming to reading lessons again.

A.N.

Ahh, my poor Sam! *dodges tomatoes* He is such an adorable little boy. I promise, he'll feel better after talking to Frodo about it!