Winter 1419-1420

Rose woke up sweating despite the cold night air that seeped through the tangled sheets. The other bedcoverings had all fallen on the floor. It was the third night this week she'd woken up gasping with her heart pounding. Last week her mother had heard something and come in. Rose was mortified at being caught and she had moved her bed to the side furthest from her parents' room. Did they hear this time? She picked up the fallen blankets so she could duck her head under again, hoping to maintain silence the rest of the night. Suddenly she realized it wasn't silent even now. Ah, no. Mr. Frodo's crying again. The sound was so quiet even the lightest sleeper wouldn't hear but Rose had become attuned to it from her many nights of insomnia.

Her own nightmare forgotten in her worry for their houseguest, she tapped twice on the wall to warn him, pulled on a robe and went to knock properly on Mr. Frodo's door.

Come on in, Rose. Frodo had already composed himself and was sitting up drinking a glass of water. Sorry to wake you. I accidentally knocked the glass against the ewer so hard I thought it would shatter.

Don't you worry about me, sir. I was awake already. And if you don't mind my saying, it wasn't the clink of glass I heard, Mr. Frodo. Rose sat down in the nearby reading chair and leaned her arms on her knees in an earnest listening posture. Will you tell me about your dream? I know I'm not Sam but I hope I am your friend too. Is there anything I can do for you.

He looked into her face and saw the same expression of desperate hope that Sam would get as he tried to stop Frodo slipping away. At times like this, while the dream was still fresh.... The pity in her eyes will surely disappear as soon as she knows what was in my heart. I put It on. I couldn't throw the ring away. If Gollum hadn't taken my finger....

One of her hands reached to cover his maimed hand as if to hush its silent torment but it remaining hovering an inch above. She had trod over so many boundaries already. It's over now and we're all safe.

But it's very purpose was to cast the world into darkness. At the final test, I chose the ring over all that I knew and loved. He covered his face in shame. And I want it still, he whispered.

There now. Don't take on so. Rose finally began to understand that Mr. Frodo suffered from more than unasked for memories relived in the night. Sam says he doesn't think anyone else could have even got the ring to the mountain. It doesn't matter how it fell into the Crack of Doom. You got it there and you saved us.

Yes, you were saved, Frodo said bitterly. But I can't forget what I did because it haunts my dreams even if I know better in the daylight. He sighed tiredly. I don't want to talk about it anymore. I know you care but you can't help me.

I want to. Let me.

Go away! he snarled. I don't want your pity. His eyes were hard now.



GET OUT!

Rose fled back to her room in tears, damning the evil which had caused so much grief to all those she knew. She wished Sam was still staying in her home. If anyone could put things right, she thought he could. Her thoughts were interrupted a moment later by a light knock on her still open door.

Rose? May I come in? When Frodo perceived a small nod from her hunched shaking form he stepped in and closed the door without latching it. I'm sorry I snapped at you, he said quietly.

No, I'm sorry, Mr. Frodo. Rose straightened, feeling awkwardly formal. I've overstepped my position. I won't bother you again. She still couldn't shake the wish to ease his obvious suffering. But it's no bother to me if you do want to talk or you want some tea or anything.

Thank you. Not tonight. Sometimes some things are just too difficult to speak about. He opened the door to leave then turned his head to speak to Rose once more. But you know that, don't you?

Mr. Frodo? What...?

I've heard you too. You could talk to me if you like, too. But then, friends don't have to tell each other everything. They can just know they have a friend who understands.

Yes, Mr. Frodo, said Rose, feeling very tired now that there seemed to be some kind of resolution, some redrawing of lines.



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Sam looked forward to Sunday mornings. Rose would come over to make bread for the Gamgees and their neighbours, giving him another chance to be around her. He could see her through the kitchen window as he wheeled topsoil and tools around to where he was preparing a new herb garden. Usually by the end of the morning she would end up looking as ghostly as a barrow-wight from all the flour she would stir up into the air. One time as Sam made a trip past he dropped his jaw, then the wheelbarrow. In the hot kitchen, Rose had taken off her overblouse and was now wearing just her sleeveless underblouse, the hem partially hanging out above her skirt. Sam watched fascinated as she pummeled the dough. He had never realized just how strong she was. Soft shadows flickered every time she leaned on the squishy mass of flour and yeast; little ripples of muscle in her jaw, her arms, her chest above the neckline...

"Sam, if you need a break please go inside for a cup of tea. You can hardly rest standing up."

Sam whirled his head to see Frodo coming up the path. He opened his mouth to say something but found himself just gasping for air as he had forgotten to breathe. He could feel his blood rushing to his face but didn't want Frodo to see why. "I... I just set down to rid myself of a bothersome midge. Here now, let me show you the new herb garden. It's right this way." He awkwardly bent down to get the wheelbarrow again and hurried around the side of the house.

Frodo watched Sam's strange new waddle with a barely contained laugh as he pondered wickedly whether to tell Rose about it.

In the kitchen, Rose looked up from the dough as Sam's shadow left the window and she smiled to herself.

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Yule celebrations were bigger than ever that year for most everyone in the Shire. Though there was no great stock of supplies left from the occupation of Men, song and good cheer were abundant enough to make up for that. However, Sam knew Frodo would want something more peaceful than an inn packed with rambunctious hobbits so he invited Frodo and Rose to spend the evening at the Gamgee home. There was a nice coney stew for dinner, this time made proper with carrots, onions, and taters. And after that, Rosie, Sam, and Frodo sat on the couch as Sam's Gaffer told stories from his oversize chair on the other side of the fireplace. Later conversation turned to the current state of the Shire, spring weather predictions and news of certain oversized hobbits galavanting about. Long after the Gaffer had gone to bed, the three of them were still talking. Rose went to make more tea but when she got back she found Frodo asleep against Sam's shoulder and Sam looked ready to nod off himself. She set the tray down quietly and sat opposite them.

Sam became fully alert at the sound of the porcelain rattling slightly. He found Rose staring intently at him, her face unreadable. Sam blushed slightly.

"That's not very polite of us to fall asleep and leave a lass without any company. I bet we look like the old gaffers and gammers who always sleep through the end of the party."

"Mm hmm. Don't wake him. I'd hate to interrupt any peaceful rest he gets. Rose smiled affectionately. Your gaffer won't mind if you tuck him in here on the couch, will he? Then you can walk me home."

A little while later they were on their way back to the Cotton home. The night was clear and cold and made for sharing.

"Do you miss sleeping under the stars, Sam?" asked Rose. "As a child I used to think it sounded so romantic until I was finally allowed to and then I woke up with a swarm of midge bites. It was many years before I wanted to do that again. It often seems that reality is much harder than the adventure we imagined."

"That it is. I don't miss the fear and the cold and the hard ground. But I had a job to do with Mr. Frodo and I never felt so needed in my life. I miss him in a strange way even though he's right here."

"He will always need you, you know. Even if he had a staff of ten at Bag End. Rose gazed admiringly at Sam. You are not just his servant anymore: you are such a good friend to him and that is everything," said Rose. I hope I can be such a friend."

"You will be. You are. I've seen how much you care about him. It's like you understand a little of what we went through out there. Most Shirefolk don't seem to care much." He looked at her as they strode along and wondered how he ever thought she might be nothing more than a pretty face. I thought of you many times on the long road back. But now back with you, the reality is much better than anything I imagined." He reached for her hand and was gratified when she laced her fingers through his. They walked on in silence.

At the door of her home, Rose reluctantly let go of Sam's hand. "Goodnight Sam. You'd better hurry home before your gaffer wonders if you've run off again."

"All right. But not before I get a kiss goodnight for Yule." He pointed to his right cheek which dimpled slightly as he fought off a smile. Rose stood on tiptoe and planted a small kiss but as she put her heels down she pressed her forehead to Sam's face a little longer. She heard him sigh. "No sense in leaving a job half-done my gaffer always says," chuckled Sam as he pointed to his left cheek. Rose blushed and smiled. As she reached up, Sam turned his head so Rose found her lips not on his cheek but on his mouth and he kissed her.

"Oh!" She almost fell over backwards but Sam caught her by the shoulders. She looked up to see a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. His eyes crinkled with gentle amusement. Rose wanted to say something but her mind was momentarily blank. She just stared wide-eyed at him as her heart thudded so hard it seemed there was no room left in her lungs for air.

Sam kissed the curls on her forehead then closed her eyes by kissing each one. When he kissed the tip of her nose she tilted up to kiss his chin. Then their mouths found each other. Sam's hands slid up to hold her face as the kiss deepened. Rose felt the fine hairs on her neck begin to stand up until she couldn't suppress a little shiver that broke their kiss.

"That's not how you kissed me when we played spin-the-bottle at your birthday party two years ago."

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It was a busy winter that year. Frequent comings and goings between Hobbiton and Buckland kept all the Travellers as close friends as could be. In the midst of all these happy gatherings though, Rose and Sam found little time to be alone together. Sam finally begged off a weekend at Crickhollow as he was exhausted from all his forestry work. A fresh snowfall on the ground provided the perfect motivation for a lazy afternoon together with Rose curled up by the fire as her weekly batch of bread was in the oven.

Sam smiled as Rose kissed him. "Keep that up and some lad might want to marry you some day," he teased.

Rose pushed him away none too gently. "That's hard, Samwise Gamgee. I've already waited more than a year you see. My Da's started inviting a few lads over for dinner and still others for supper. It isn't right to be put up for bid. The auction block feels like a chopping block, it does. If you don't want me then I'd rather be alone."

"Rosie! You know how I feel." Sam blushed right down to the follicles on his feet.

"But you haven't clearly spoken, if you take my meaning. Da obviously isn't convinced of your intentions. Now that you've moved back in with your gaffer, we each see Mr. Frodo more than we do each other."

"Now Rosie, that isn't fair. I'm working with him on Bag End. It was in a sore condition not fit for an animal to live in. Besides that, I can't just stop being there for him now after everything."

"Of course. I don't begrudge you that. You are his dearest friend. That's one of the things I love about you. I'm just saying ... I wish ... I mean .... Will you marry me, Samwise Gamgee?" Rose clapped her hand to her mouth. "Oh! I'm sorry. That's not proper of me to ask. Forget I said that. I...I'll leave you be now." She stood up and quickly turned to go in order to end the awkward moment.

"Yes."

Rose froze. She felt Sam put a hand on her shoulder and turned around. She searched his eyes for any hint of uncertainty or resentment. It wasn't her place to ask first; to put him on the spot.

"I'll marry you, Rose Cotton. I love you." Then Sam held her face and kissed her.

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As the winter of 1420 in the Shire waned, Sam eagerly spent much time traveling about, checking on the plantings he made using Galadriel's gift of magic dust from Lothlorien. On the early local trips Frodo, or sometimes Rose, would usually accompany him. Frodo was often quiet but he drew happiness from sharing in his best friend's delight in growing things. When Rose was along, Sam found himself talking about events on the Journey that he never told anyone else in the Shire about. Rose listened attentively but she knew better than to press him when the memories became too dark.

Soon Sam had surveyed the whole Hobbiton and Bywater area and often he had to go for days at a time to see more distant areas. So it came that Sam was away alone in March. He never knew how badly he was missed one morning as Rose found herself caught up in an unexpected happening at the Cotton home.

"Da! Can you go rouse Mr. Frodo? Second breakfast is almost ready and we still haven't seen him today. Tell him Ma made a bacon, mushroom, and egg pie specially for him."

A few minutes later, Farmer Cotton came into the kitchen and said, "Rosie dear, Mr. Frodo is not well. Would you go see what you can do for him?"

"Sure, Da. Are you going for the healer?" asked Rose.

"I don't rightly think there's aught the healer can do. It's too bad Sam is away, he might know what's best. Now get along and see to him, dear."

"Mr. Frodo?" Rose knocked on the door. "Are you all right?" No answer. She hesitantly opened the door. In the dim light of the drawn curtains, she could see Frodo on the bed, one hand clutching something to his breast. As she approached, she could barely see the white gem of Arwen Evenstar through the gap made by Frodo's missing finger. "Mr. Frodo, what's wrong?" Still no response. Worried, Rose touched his arm. She was relieved but not really comforted to hear a slight whimper. His eyes stared blankly up at the ceiling.

She laid her hand over his to comfort him, but he jerked away and sat up shouting, "It was mine! Thief! There's nothing left now!" Then he struck her with such surprising force that she fell down. Frodo didn't even seem to notice that he was now leaning completely off the bed and he fell like a stone face down on the floor beside Rose.

She was aghast. She had never before seen Frodo violent, nor hardly even angry. The pain in her temple paled beside the pain in her heart as she looked at his prostrate form. She picked up the white gem and its broken chain from the floor and tucked it into Frodo's hand, then placed his hand by his breast. She stroked the hair from his brow and cried to see how his face looked pale as death itself. "Oh Mr. Frodo! Don't you leave us. Not like this."

Frodo gagged and coughed and scrabbled at the floor until he opened his eyes and found himself back in the Shire. Shelob was dead, Gollum was dead and he....

He wept. Rose gathered him to her and held him until the sobs no longer racked their bodies. Then she kissed his face and hands and curled around him on the cold hard floor. They slept dreamlessly until almost sunset, then Frodo roused himself enough to offer an unnecessary apology and order Rose out. She would return as much as he allowed to ensure he had enough warmth in the room and make him take a little food. Her parents raised their eyebrows when she wouldn't let them tend Frodo in his illness but she had become very strong-willed since the Shire was freed. By the end of the third day he had recovered from his spell. And when Sam got back to Hobbiton ten days later on March 25th, Rose's bruises had healed and she said nothing about it to him.

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TBC

Reviews and comments most welcome.