Once again, sorry for not updating sooner. I just got back last night from raiding Lancaster County, PA on a shopping trip. I even bought a really nice set of The Lord of the Rings books, (a good thing, seeing as how my older copies are each in about five pieces from repeated use).

This will be the final chapter of His Rose! (And a long one at that) After this, I think I might write a Silmarillion story.

For people who like my stories:

Check out illuminator's Sam and Rosie story! If you like mine, you'll love that one!

Also check out Sigil's stories! Especially Kinsinger! I really liked it, and I think that if she gets enough encouragement, she'll continue it!

Okay then! On with the final chapter! (By the way, this is a continuation of the first chapter; meaning it takes place at a different time than the Elvishly numbered ones.)

Enjoy!

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Rosie gently stowed the glass rose back in her apron pocket, and looked up and the darkening sky. She knew that she should be heading home, especially because of the ruffians roaming the Shire, but she had needed this moment alone, and though she had been sitting against the tree for some time, she was not quite finished thinking and reflecting yet. Thankfully, she had at least managed to finally get her emotions under control.

She sighed, closing her eyes and leaned her head back to rest on the bark. For some reason, this tree had always seemed to comfort her. It almost reminded her of . . .

"Awake! Awake! Fear! Fire! Foes!"

As the horn blasts ripped through the air, Rosie leapt to her feet before even realizing what was going on. It took her a moment to refocus her mind to the present moment, and hear the forceful echoes of a powerful horn.

"Awake! Fear! Fire! Foes! Awake!"

Rosie's mouth twitched. 'Well,' she mused. 'So much for my quiet time.' Then, hearing the horn blast again, she thought, puzzled, 'the Horn-cry of Buckland? What's going on?'

She stepped from her place by the tree, and went onto the road. It seemed that she was not the only one wondering what the horns were about. Dozens of Hobbits poured out from their homes, looking about, side to side and up and down, in a state of bewilderment.

A few moments later, Rosie caught sight of a few more Hobbit-lads running down the road, yelling something faintly. Rosie lifted up her skirt and began to hasten towards them. What were they yelling about? What was happening? The air was thick with anticipation. Something was happening, or about to happen, that was big . . . really big.

As Rosie neared the seemingly exhilarated boys, a crowd slowly gathered around them, trying to pull out information. The boys were clearly out of breath from their run, and spoke in turn between gasps. Squeezing up against the edge of the crowd, and standing on her tiptoes, Rosie tried to hear what was being said, but she could only catch snatches of the talk:

" . . . riding through . . . ponies . . ."

" . . . had a . . . horn . . ."

" . . . I cannot believe . . . came back . . ."

" . . . raising . . . Shire . . ."

Came back? Raising the Shire? Rosie pulled herself from her entanglement in the crowd and backed away slowly. Who? Could it be?

Suddenly, Rosie spun around and ran home with such haste that all who were going the other direction, jumped out of her way to avoid getting trampled.

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Rosie ran up the path to her door and burst through, only to crash straight into her father and brothers.

"Rosie!" Farmer Cotton exclaimed. "What are you doing crashing through doors like that? You're going to get somebody killed!"

Rosie pushed herself up from the floor and brushed off her dress. "Sorry, Papa, but I had to tell you . . ."

"Not now Rosie!" Her father interrupted. "Something is going on, and your brothers and I have to go out and see what it is!"

" I know, Papa, that's what I . . ."

"Now you stay inside Rosie dear, I don't want you out there if something dangerous happens."

"But Papa . . ."

"Stay here!"

With that last order, Farmer Cotton gave his daughter a look that spelled certain doom if she disobeyed, and then he and the three boys rushed outside. Rosie stood staring at the back of the closed door for a moment, so frustrated that she thought she would explode.

Telling herself that she would rather get in trouble than explode, she grabbed the doorknob and followed her father and brothers outside. She was relieved to see her mother and youngest brother outside as well, and guessed that they had also disobeyed Farmer Cotton. Stubbornness ran in the family.

Rosie squinted her eyes to try to see better. It was now very dark, and except for the faint silhouettes of her family, she could see nothing, and except for her brothers' hurried whispers and the now distant horn-cries, the night was filled with silence.

Then, she all of a sudden heard quick hoof beats. Her brothers ceased their whispers, and followed their father as he walked down the path to meet the rider.

Rosie strained her ears, and discerned that the hoof beat were getting louder and closer. Closer? Where was this rider headed? Rosie's heart quickened until its beats matched those of the horse. Horse?

Rosie suddenly heard her father say aloud, "Nay! It's not one of them ruffians! It's a hobbit by the size of it, but all dressed up queer."

Rosie's heart began to beat even faster.

"Hey you!" She heard her father cry to the stranger, or so it seemed. "Who are you, and what's all this to-do?"

"It's Sam, Sam Gamgee. I've come back."

Rosie's heart skipped a beat. She heard her father respond, but she couldn't hear what it was through the roaring that now filled her ears. The world began to spin, and Rosie wondered if she was going to faint.

She got control of her senses just in time to hear Sam say, " . . . And that's the to-do. They're raising the Shire. We're going to clear out these ruffians and their Chief too. We're starting now."

Rosie was mystified. Was this her Sam talking? Was this the same Sam that fell off the road and twisted his ankle? The same Sam that spent his life watering flowers in the garden?

There were the sounds of someone dismounting, and then the face that Rosie knew and loved came into view. She smiled. Yes, it was the same Sam.

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Later that night, the four returning Hobbits, Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin, along with Sam's Gaffer settled in at the Cotton farm to stay for the remainder of the night. However, though it was late, they all stayed up for a few hours, talking and exchanging news and thoughts. Rosie stayed up as well, determined to spend as much time with her Sam as possible.

Earlier, she was reluctant to display her joy at his return as much as she had wished to. She had wanted more than anything to fling her arms around him and kiss him until he suffocated, but knowing how he was (or at least how he had been before his quest), she knew he would be embarrassed if she kissed and hugged him in front of her entire family. Not that she cared if they knew. She was simply waiting for an opportunity for them to be alone. Unfortunately that opportunity hadn't risen yet.

She abruptly tuned in to the conversation upon hearing Sam's name.

"And I hope my Sam's behaved himself and given satisfaction?" The Gaffer was saying.

"Perfect satisfaction." Frodo replied. Rosie looked over at Sam who was looking down at his hands, which were folded in his lap. She smiled. He may be a little different, but he was still as humble as ever.

"Indeed, if you would believe it," Frodo continued, "he's now one of the most famous people in all the lands, and they are making songs about his deeds from here to the Sea and beyond the Great River."

Rosie's mouth dropped open. Her Sam? A hero being praised throughout Middle Earth? She hid a grin as she saw him give Frodo a thankful look. So he wanted to impress her? Rosie's grin slipped out from under cover. He succeeded.

The talk around the table continued, but from that moment on, both Sam and Rosie had unofficially excluded themselves from the conversation, now both sitting quietly at one end of the table.

They both looked at each other and their eyes met. Rosie held his gaze, but was shocked to see that he no longer blushed when he looked at her. Suddenly, Rosie was further surprised to see a new expression spread over Sam's face. It was sweet, but a little mischievous. Had she ever seen that look on his face before? Rosie leaned over and whispered in his ear, "What are you thinking about, Sam?"

His smile grew wider. "I think I'm finally ready."

"For what?"

"To tell you something I've wanted to say for a long time." Sam pulled her hair back from her face. "I love you Rosie."

Before Rosie could respond, Sam kissed her, not caring that everyone had stopped talking and were staring directly at them. Rosie returned the kiss, her arms reaching up to wrap around him, remembering the kiss she had given him in the very same manner the day he had left, and the words that were spoken.

'Don't cry Rosie.'

Rosie felt tears splashing down her cheeks, but for once she did not try to hide them. If her lips had not been occupied, she would have dared to say aloud, "Look Sam! I'm crying. You told me not to cry, and I have often kept myself from it, but I've learned something since then. Tears do not hurt, they only cleanse. See each of these tear drops? Each one is a well of emotion holding my love for you."

'I'll be back. I promise.'

He had promised, and he had kept his word, and now they were together: The gardener and his rose.

The end.