1.1 Sam's Tale

Reviews coveted and appreciated!

"I asks, yes. And if that isn't nice enough, I begs!"

Author: Nilramiel@aol.com, aka RosieCotton

Rating: G, PG, R

Genre: General/Romance

Setting: The Shire, September 1420

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1.2 Chapter 29: Disagreement

Rating: PG

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Rosie put both hands on her hips and cocked her curly head to one side, a stance which Sam usually found endearing, but not on this day.

"Sam Gamgee," she was saying, in a tone neither endearing nor ladylike, "I have helped with harvest every year since I could carry a sack, and I aim to help this year as well."

"But all them years, you weren't with child," Sam protested, in a tone not much gentler than his wife's, "And yer still sick and dizzy from time to time, and that one afternoon you swooned outright."

"Only the once," said Rosie, gathering the butter and jelly crocks from the table and shoving them roughly onto a shelf, "and that was because I hadn't slept at all the night before and hadn't a thing to eat since early mornin'. It was terrible hot that day, besides."

"Aye," said Sam, "an harvestin' is terrible hot work."

"I don't aim to swing a sickle," Rosie said, exasperation coloring her tone, "just to help out – carrying things or bringing water, tying bundles and such." She sank down opposite Sam at the table. "I'll be careful."

Sam looked at her, feeling strongly that this was a battle he must win. "Yer not the careful type, Rose. That's one of the reasons I love ye." He reached across the table and covered her hand with his own, his tone gentling. "I think you should stay t'home and stay rested."

Rosie sighed, dropping her gaze to the brown hand covering her own. "I rest all of the time, Sam. I'm tired of resting. It can't be good for the wee one to have her mother in a state of flusteration."

"HIS mother," Sam corrected gently, placing his other hand beneath Rosie's chin and lifting her eyes to his. "And t'ain't good for him to have his mother ill or weak with sunstroke neither."

Rosie smiled, despite herself. "His mother, then, Sam. But I aim to go to harvest nonetheless." She placed her free hand on her abdomen, pressing softly against the firm bulge that was just beginning to be obvious. It was true that the past couple of months had been difficult for her, but she felt strong, and restless, and wanted to take part in her family's largest harvest ever. She hated inactivity, and Sam had been so doting, even this early on, Rosie wondered if he would even allow her out of bed once her belly swelled large. She smiled again at the thought of the little one growing inside her, and standing, came around the table to Sam's side, placing his palm against the firmness beneath her waist.

"I'm strong, Sam," she said gently. "I promise not to overdo, and to stay in the shade, and you will be there to watch over me, besides."

Sam sighed, circling his arms about her waist and pressing his cheek to the soft mound that was his child. For several moments he said nothing, and Rosie ran her fingers again and again through his soft curls as he held her.

"My Mum lost a babe once," he said eventually, "I was young, but I remember it."

Rosie pulled back, gently tugging his arms from around her, and sank down next to him upon the bench. "Oh, Sam."

"It was after Marigold, a long while after, I suppose. I had perhaps six or seven summers, and all of us were glad because Mum was to have another babe in the autumn, and I was sure it was a lad. I would have loved ta have a younger brother."

Rosie listened, watching Sam's face with compassion, and taking his two hands in her own as she always did when he spoke seriously or was sad.

"It was a lad, too, least that's what the healer said to me Gaffer. I wasn't meant to hear it, but I was in the hallway…" he paused, cocking his head a little to the side. "Rose, I needn't tell you if it will upset you."

"No, Sam, it doesn't," she assured him. "Tell me. I want to hear about it."

"I do," she repeated when he hesitated another moment, and it was true. Rosie's heart was full of love for Samwise Gamgee, so full that some days she wondered if she could bear it, and she wanted to know everything about him – every joy and sorrow, every memory and thought.

"Well," Sam continued, "Mum fell ill towards the end of the summer. She was already big around the middle, and it was perhaps 10 weeks until the babe was due to arrive. She was out working a little in the garden, which she always did right up until the end, and she fainted. We couldn't rouse her nohow, and the Gaffer sent me at a trot for the healer, as I was the fastest runner. When he picked Mum up to carry her into the house, I saw the blood. Her skirts were covered in it, and I didn't know what it meant, but it frightened me. I ran down the path to Mistress Lily's as fast as my legs could carry me."

Rosie touched Sam's face, tracing a line down his careworn cheek. "Go on, love."

"Mistress Lily came fast as ever she could, and they were closed up in the bedroom for a good while, then all of a sudden I could hear my Mum crying. I was so glad she was wakeful, but it frightened me too, and even more so when I heard my Gaffer crying right along with her. I would have busted in then, so worried was I, but Daisy took me by the shoulders and made me go to the kitchen, and told me that Mum had lost the babe – that it had died and wasn't goin to be born or live at all. By the time I snuck back to the bedroom door, the crying had stopped and there was just talkin'. That's when I heard Mistress Lily tell my Gaffer that the wee one was a lad." He looked into Rosie's eyes, deep fear coloring his expression. "She never was with child again after that, Rosie, and she grieved sore over it. We all did. I just don't know what I would do if something happened to our little one. I couldn't bear it, Rose."

"Oh, Sam, dear Sam." Rosie folded him into her arms and kissed him. "I never knew. Poor Sam." She held him tightly for a long time before speaking again, this time with both compassion and firmness. Very rarely did hobbit lasses lose babes before their time, and no one in her family ever had. Rosie was determined to put Sam's heart at ease, as much for her own sake as for his. It was a long time yet until Spring.

"Samwise, my love, listen to me," she said, cupping his face in her hands. "Nothing is going to happen to me, and nothing to our little one. I am young, and strong, Sam, and no one in my family has ever lost a babe." Rosie spoke with the conviction that what she was saying was the truth, and not meant simply to soothe. "Your Mum – she was often ill, and we lost her early, much too early, but she was much older than I am now. What happened to her was rare. It isn't going to happen to us, Sam."

Sam looked at her, and he believed her. The telling of the tale had been like the lifting of a weight from his heart, and he realized that unnecessary fear had clutched him almost from the moment he learned of the life growing inside his sweet Rose.

"Alright, Rosie," he conceded reluctantly, "but promise me that you will care for yourself."

"Always, Sam," she said sincerely, "This babe is the greatest treasure in my life, next to you, and I would never put her in danger."

"Him," Sam corrected, his voice muffled against Rosie's neck, and she could feel him smile against the softness of her skin.

~TBC~

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Acknowledgements: The characters, setting, and much of the dialog belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, and I give full credit to him. This story focuses on the relationship of Samwise Gamgee and Rose Cotton, and it is how I imagine the events following the Hobbits' return to the Shire following the War of the Ring and King Aragorn's coronation and marriage. If you have read the book, The Return of the King, you will find the events familiar. I have tried to "fill in the gaps," regarding Sam's courtship to Rose Cotton. Sam is my favorite character in Tolkien's work, and this is written with the deepest respect for both Tolkien and the noble Samwise.