Chapter Rating: PG (adult themes, mild language)

Chapter 10: Arrangements

Timeline deviation warning: This is where it starts deviating from RoTK. You've been warned.

December 17th

"Uh, Mister Frodo? Could I have a word with you?"

Sam stood at the door of Bag End. He was back from one of his frequent trips about the Shire. Sam had plenty of time during his extended trips to ponder his own situation, and had run up against a problem. Maybe his beloved master and friend, Frodo Baggins, could help.

"Sam! Come in! You don't have to knock." Frodo hurried his best friend inside the hallway and out of the cold. "Here. Let me take your cloak." Frodo hung Sam's grey-green traveling cloak next to an identical one already hanging on the pegs in the hall.

"What do you think of the new door, Sam?" Frodo inquired as he took Sam by the arm and lead him into the adjacent study.

"Right nice there Mister Frodo. The green looks to be the same as what Mister Bilbo used to fancy. And the new bells make as pretty a sound as I've ever heard."

A huge fire was roaring in the fireplace. Frodo always kept his rooms a little too warm for Sam, but Sam never complained. He took off his coat and draped it over the chair before sinking into its soft leather depths with a contented sigh.

"Thanks, Sam," Frodo said. "I like the door too. Harry Smallfoot did a very nice job with it. Sit down. Can I get you something? Rosie and I hauled over a new barrel of Barliman's Beer yesterday. Merry had it sent over last week from Bree. Care to help me with the first tapping?" Frodo disappeared into the kitchen and immediately returned with a couple of mugs.

"Sure! I'm always a go for some of Barliman's finest."

Sam loved a good beer. Actually, all hobbits loved good beer. Frodo grabbed a candle and lead Sam back into the depths of the hobbit hole. They passed several closed doors and branching interior hallways, eventually reaching the smial's dark, cool storeroom. A lone oaken barrel rested on its wooden chops. The words "BREE" and "PRANCING PONY" were stenciled on the side in large black letters.

Frodo tapped the keg and handed the first mug-full to Sam. Sam politely waited until Frodo had filled his own mug, then took a big sniff. It smelled like golden autumn sunshine kissed with sharp winter moonlight. Sam took a big gulp and politely belched after wiping the frothy head off his upper lip using his shirt sleeve.

"Ahhhh….what a beer! Makes me Gaffer's homebrew taste like pig's piss."

They had a good laugh as they wound their way back to the study. The room was stuffed with books and boxes of papers. The plain wooden desk Frodo was using was burdened with piles of notes and maps. A few quills and sticks of charcoal rested atop a piece of parchment which was evidently undergoing preliminary sketching into yet another map. Settling into an armchair closest to the fire, Frodo asked, "What brings you to Bag End?"

"Well now, I've had a lot of time to meself being gone on these trips and all. It's got me thinking about things and I've run into a bit of a problem, you see." Sam took another deep pull on his beer. How could he say this?

"What sort of problem?" Frodo's eyebrows knitted together in concern and he leaned forward in his chair with his elbows on his knees. "I do hope there is not more trouble with infiltrators coming into the Shire."

"Oh no! Nothing like that," Sam was quick to reply. "It's more of a personal sort of problem, if you get me. It's got nuthin to do with Outsiders or the trees or the rebuilding or the food supply. It's…well…it's personal." Sam looked down and contemplated his beer.

"Sam, dearest friend, what is it?" Frodo was relieved that whatever was on Sam's mind didn't seem to have to do with the problems they had found upon returning to the Shire. "Come on Sam. Out with it. Getting you to talk about a personal problem is like trying to get milk from a chicken."

Sam grinned. "Yeh, I know." He paused. The tips of his ears began to turn red and he was unconsciously tapping his foot.

"It's…well…it's about me and you…and me and Rosie…and well…you know, what to do with it all, if you see what I mean?" Sam didn't take his eyes off his beer.

"Sam, I have no idea what you are talking about," Frodo sighed, leaning back into his chair and sipping his beer.

"Well…it ain't too easy for me to say neither. Guess I just better get it all out straightways as I can. Ever since we came back I've been kinda torn in two. I want to stay with you and help you out and all. But I also want to be with Rosie. She and I, well… She and me…I mean…well…"

"You want to marry Rose Cotton, is that it?" Frodo gently asked.

Sam nodded. "But I got a problem about where to live afterwards. I don't want to move out to that big farm of her dad's. I mean…I dearly love the Cottons. Master Cotton and the Mistress and Nibs and the lads and all. But there's no privacy out there. Me Gaffer's moving back into Bag Shot Row soon and I expect I'll be moving in with him then. I've always been from 'round the Hill and I want to live there. Don't get me wrong. I love me Gaffer. But I don't want to get married and have Rosie have to put up with his ways. He weren't too nice to me when I was growing up, and I'll not have him being rough with her or any wee lads and lasses we might be having."

The room was very still. Only the occasional pop of a log in the fire interrupted the silence.

Sam had gotten very introspective. Frodo had never heard him speak of his childhood this way. Everyone in Hobbiton and Bag End knew that Hamfast Gamgee was rough on his wife and children, but few had the nerve to confront the Gaffer about it. The only one who had intervened between the Gaffer and the object of his anger was Bilbo Baggins. There were times when Sam had taken refuge at Bag End, hiding out with Frodo until Bilbo could calm down his gardener. Frodo didn't really understand why Sam still supported his father, but kept his peace.

"I always expected to be the Bag End gardener like me Gaffer. It's all I ever wanted to do," Sam whispered. "I never expected to be traveling all the time. Nor did I ever expect to have to replant the whole Shire."

Sam looked up at Frodo. "When we were in that place with the orcs about to go into Mordor, and you were stung by that Shelob creature, and I had to take the Ring from you for awhile…I…well… um…" He looked at his feet and shifted uncomfortably in the chair.

"Go on," Frodo quietly said.

"Well…um…did you ever see things, like vision things, when you was wearing It? I know this sounds crazy, but did It ever talk to you when you was wearing it? Like, tempt you with crazy ideas and such?" Sam whispered..

"That does not sound crazy at all to me, Sam," Frodo gently said. "Yes, the Ring put strange thoughts in my head and tempted me. What did it tempt you with, Sam?"

Sam sighed, "It told me I could stop all the death and destruction, and change the land so that it bloomed and grew strong again. It said if only I would claim it, I could turn even Mordor into a paradise, full of flowers and birds and fruit and such. I knew it was telling me a lie, but it's strange the way things work out. I only wanted to be a gardener with one little garden for my own. I just wanted to go home here to Bag End and take care of you and the gardens. I turned down using that Ring just so I could go home to a plain, simple life. But now that I'm here, folk expect me to do a miracle and make the whole Shire blossom and grow beautiful again. I never wanted this responsibility. I just wanted to do a spot of gardening, look after you, marry Rosie Cotton, and raise a family."

Frodo got up, went over behind Sam's chair and placed his slender hand on Sam's shoulder.

"You are home, Sam," he said. "All I have is yours." Sam bowed his head and took Frodo's hand in his.

"Bag End is not much to look at right now," Frodo continued, "but we can turn it into a home again. Why don't you wait until we can get it livable, then marry Rose Cotton and the two of you move in here with me? There is plenty of room at Bag End for as large a family as you could ever desire."

Sam stood and gave Frodo a hug. "I don't rightly know what to say. I don't properly khow how to thank you." They were both teary-eyed.

"Come on," Frodo said, "let's have another beer to celebrate. We'll toast you and Rosie and Bag End."