Frodo returned to Bag End early in the evening. Clouds were covering the setting sun, the air was cooler, and all the long grass was bending over in the freshening breeze, turning silver under the darkening sky. Sam was sitting on the bench by the front door, smoking a pipe. He stood up when Frodo opened the gate. "Evening, Mr. Frodo."
"Good evening, Sam. Don't let me interrupt you. As a matter of fact, I think I'll join you. I haven't had a pipe since before first breakfast." Frodo sat down beside Sam and took out his pipe. They sat in silence for a long while, quietly enjoying each other's company, while watching lights appear in the windows of all the little houses and holes.
When the Hobbits that had come out to enjoy the cooler air started to go back inside, Sam tapped out his pipe. "Suppose I should be getting home. Have a good night, Mr. Frodo."
"You too, Sam. I had better check in on Pippin and see if he's hungry, although I imagine he's asleep."
"I don't know," Sam said. "I heard Mr. Merry and him laughing a while ago. You might want to check your pantry, Mr. Frodo."
"Oh dear," Frodo laughed. "That does sound ominous. They've probably eaten me out of hole and home by now."
"Oh, Mr. Frodo, I nearly forgot!" Sam reached into his shirt and brought out a small book with a yellow cover. "I found your book when I was tidying up on the roof this morning." His face reddened. "I was reading it. I hope you don't mind."
"Heavens no, Sam! I'm just glad you found it before it got dewed on and ruined."
"I only got to read the first few pages, and I can't say I understand it all," Sam said. "But it's all about Elves, isn't it, sir? All about them and their great deeds? Could I maybe borrow it sometime? I'd dearly love to read the rest of it."
"Yes, it's mostly about Elves, but there's a bit about Men, as well," Frodo said, and smiled. "And you can take the book home right now, Sam, and keep it, too."
"For good and all?"
"For good and all."
"Oh my." Sam held the book, wearing a slightly stunned expression. He touched the cover reverently. Mr. Bilbo and Mr. Frodo were just about the finest hobbits alive, in Sam's opinion. Old Mr. Bilbo had taught him his letters, and Mr. Frodo was the very soul of kindness; a hobbit couldn't ask for a kinder, more generous master. You could put a crown on a dog and it wouldn't make him a prince, but dress Mr. Frodo in tatters and rags and the quality would still shine right on through, just like he had a light inside. He wished suddenly, there on the green grass of Bag End, that he could do something for Frodo besides tending his garden or cleaning up his kitchen, something great and good. Wouldn't his Gaffer laugh at that mad notion! What on earth could a simple hobbit like Sam Gamgee ever do for a fine gentlehobbit like Frodo Baggins? But I will, Sam thought stubbornly. I'll find a way to pay him back someday, even if I have to follow him to the ends of the world to get the job done. "I'll take such care of it, sir. I'll treat it like it was gold."
Frodo stood up and patted Sam on the back. "I know you will, Sam. You have performed above and beyond the call of duty today: You deserve a medal for putting up with Lobelia, not just a book! Don't go reading it all at once, now, you'll strain your eyes."
"Oh, I will, I mean, I won't! Thank you, sir!" Sam hugged the book to his chest and ran off toward his home. Frodo watched him go, then knocked the ashes out of his pipe and went inside.
Bag End was dark and quiet. Frodo wandered down the hall to his old room and looked in. Merry and Pippin were squashed together on his narrow bed. Pippin was dangerously close to the edge, with one leg and an arm hanging off. Merry had obviously been sitting up in the bed, but he had slid down until his cheek was resting on the top of Pippin's head. He was snoring. The room had grown surprisingly chilly, so Frodo went to the window and closed it, then got a quilt out of the blanket chest at the foot of the bed. He held the quilt under one arm while he shoved Pippin back into place. Merry rolled over when Frodo threw the quilt over them. "Cobbler?" he said with his eyes closed.
"No, just Frodo, I'm afraid," Frodo whispered. "You'll have to wait and see cobbler in the morning," He tucked the quilt in around their feet. "Sleep well, lads."
The storm that threatened still had not come, so Frodo went back to his garden bench. It had been a long, eventful day and he felt drowsy and peaceful, but not quite tired enough for bed, so he sat in the dark for a long time and looked out over Hobbiton. "Goodnight, Hobbiton," Frodo said. "Gamgees, Bolgers, Boffins, Proudfoots." Frodo smiled to himself. "That is, Proudfeets, all various and sundry distant relations, and dear friends in residence. Sleep well, all. Goodnight, Shire." He looked east, toward distant Rivendell and whatever lay beyond, toward whatever road Bilbo might travelling on. "Goodnight, Bilbo."
The End.
Thank you, Tathar! Multi-chapter stories live or die by reviews, and you single-handedly kept this sucker alive, when I was seriously considering pulling the plug!
