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Chapter Twenty-Five: Idyll

Another merry peal of laughter floated down the hallway from the guestroom.

Just coming from the kitchen with a wooden tray full of supper, Sam paused beside the open doorway of the guestroom and looked in, taking care to keep out of sight. Inside, he could see Frodo sitting up, only propped against two pillows now, his blue eyes bright and playful as he laughed. Sam gave a deep, but silent sigh of relief; he had not heard his master's clear laugh in ages, it seemed to him and it filled him with joy to hear it now.

On the floor beside his bed, his back to Sam, Frodo's entertainer was deep in the middle of dramatically telling what seemed to be an extremely comical story. Hazel sat at the foot of Frodo's bed, his round face flushed from laughing as he listened to his friend, Robin Tunnelly, give him an account of the recent encounter he'd had with the town bully, Averill Boffin.

Robin was Hazel's best friend, about half a year older, with a permanently tousled mop of flaxen curls and lively green eyes. He had come over earlier that afternoon wondering if Hazel could play; and as Hazel had been rather melancholy since Faramond and Gavin's departure the day before, Jessimine and Halfred had agreed that his friend would be a welcome distraction.

And so Robin was proving.

"—and when Dad grabbed him by his collar and lifted him up, Averill's eyes were so big and round—they looked like saucers!—I thought they would pop right out of his head! 'Oh! Mr. Tunnelly, sir!' he says, all innocent-like (made me positively ill, it did!), 'I weren't doin' naught, sir, honest!'"

Hazel spoke through an uncontrollable fit of giggling, "I'd give a lot to see Averill try to look innocent!" He sobered slightly and added worriedly, "Your dad didn't believe 'im, did 'e?"

Robin grinned and shook his head. "Not a bit of it!" he assured his friend. "I'd told dad a lot about Averill before. He shook him a little, still holdin' on to his collar, and said, 'Doin' naught, eh? Huh.' He looked at me. 'Robin, what d'you think 'e was doin'?'"

"What did you say?" asked Hazel breathlessly.

Robin's green eyes danced with mischief. "I said, 'Dad, I think he was leavin', is what he was doin'.'"

Both his listeners laughed heartily and Hazel nearly fell off the bed as he doubled over with mirth. Robin, still grinning proudly at his audience, waited patiently for them to regain control. At last, Hazel gasped, "What 'appened then, Robin?"

"Well, Averill seemed to forget all about actin' nice an' he gave me a glare that would've curdled milk! And dad didn't say naught for a moment, he was laughin' so hard. Then: 'I think you're right, m'boy!' he says. 'Master Boffin must 'ave many places to go and things to do at market today; I'd hate to delay 'im.' He gave Averill one last shake an' then set 'im down, but he didn't let him go, not yet. 'You just go along your way, Master Boffin, an' we'll say no more about today. But don't let me catch you bullyin' my lad, nor his friends, or your da will hear of it. Understood?' Averill didn't say anythin'—'e just nodded. He looked like a rabbit caught in a trap. Then my dad smiled at him, patted his shoulder, an' let him go… took off like a shot, he did, to be sure!"

Robin ended his story and looked expectantly at his listeners. Hazel's eyes were wide. "Did your da really tell Averill to leave you alone—for good an' all?" he breathed. His own father had issued a similar warning—two, in fact—but as Halfred was often away, trading or working in the fields, the bully had still been able to find small, surreptitious ways to torment Hazel. But Robin's father was one of the three North Farthing Shirriffs, and therefore was almost always closeby; and—although the Shirriffs' job was generally more concerned with the strayings and welfare of beasts than of hobbits—one did not wish to cross a Shirriff.

Robin nodded earnestly, sandy curls tumbling untidily over his eyes. "For good an' all," he confirmed. "An' that goes for you, too—Averill's not to come near you so long as my dad or yours is around."

Frodo smiled at Hazel's elated expression and remarked, "I think your dad is a very wise hobbit, Robin. Averill will think twice before bothering either of you. Shirriff Tunnelly will make sure he stays clear inside town, and your da, Hazel, will do the same when you two go out exploring."

Hazel sobered and looked at him, his brown eyes suddenly grim. "I don't think me an' Robin will be goin' out on adventures for a while, Uncle," he said earnestly, shivering. "They can be scary."

Frodo was serious now, too. "You can't let one… unlucky experience keep you from adventuring again. Worse things have happened to me on my own expeditions—I should tell you sometime about the trip Sam and I took to the Three Farthing Stone, when he twisted his ankle and we had to try to make our way home, him leaning on me and hopping on one foot the entire way, and a thunderstorm coming up to top it all! That was certainly my most miserable outing yet. But you mustn't let an experience like that take away the fun of exploring, Hazel. The good will always outweigh the bad."

Hazel sighed, not entirely convinced, and moved up the bed to sit close beside Frodo. Robin, his own impish face somber, climbed up to sit on Frodo's other side. "How could good possibly have outweighed the bad on our walking-trip, Uncle?" asked Hazel softly.

"Well, let's think about it," said Frodo cheerfully, wrapping an arm around each of the boys' shoulders. "First, I got to see more of the Bindbale Wood than I ever have—Bilbo and I never really explored the North Farthing very much. I got to see your pond, and the Jolly Brook, and the forests; there are several trees here that I've never seen in Hobbiton. And I got to spend time with you—have I left anything out?"

Hazel nestled his curly head close against Frodo's side—careful not to brush the healing wound—and grinned. "You forgot to add that you went boating and found all your worrittin' about it to be for naught, and you got to be bested by me in stone-skipping!"

Frodo widened his eyes and looked indignant. "Why, Hazel Gamgee!" he exclaimed incredulously. "Bested! It was a draw, and well you know it!"

Robin and Hazel laughed. "If you say so, Uncle," agreed Hazel sweetly, between giggles.

Frodo snorted. "Rogue. Surely I've taught you better than to torment poor, injured old hobbits!"

At that moment, his eavesdropping endangered by laughter that he was barely able to suppress, Sam entered. "Is the poor, injured old hobbit able to eat some of Jessimine's homemade stew and biscuits?" he asked, turning a chortle into a cough as the three sitting on the bed jumped at his sudden appearance. "There's your favorite, too, Mr. Frodo—stuffed mushrooms! She made 'em just for you."

Frodo's eyes lit up delightedly. "I think this poor, injured old hobbit will soon be taking leaps and bounds on the road to recovery if he continues to receive this kind of food—Jessimine is wonderful!"

Sam set the tray down on the bedside table and grinned. "She'll be right pleased to hear you say that, Mr. Frodo—she says she'd like to cook for you more often, since you appreciate her work more'n Hal an' I do!"

"And I'd like it very much if she would cook for me more often, too!"

Sam pretended to look hurt. "What, an' replace me, sir?" he exclaimed. "I wouldn't 'ave it, an' that's a fact!"

Frodo grinned mischievously and without taking his eyes from Sam, he slapped Hazel's hand away from the stuffed mushrooms. "Well, then perhaps I'll just start doing my own cooking and have neither of you. Your Gaffer would have my head if I started a war between the Gamgees!"

"You, sir!" Sam changed his expression to one of horror. "Lawks, Mr. Frodo—beggin' your pardon, but you're no cook!"

Now it was Frodo's turn to look hurt. "I can!" he protested. "For your information, Master Samwise, I was taught by one of the greatest cooks in the Shire!"

"Mr. Frodo," Sam said with a straight face, "Mr. Bilbo couldn't even make scrambled eggs without nearly setting Bag End a'fire."

Hazel collapsed into giggles, and Frodo and Sam were able to stare icily at each other for only a moment before joining him. "All right, I'll give you that," Frodo conceded when he had breath enough. "Bilbo truly was a horrible cook. But as it happens, the teacher I spoke of was not Bilbo, but my Aunt Menegilda, at Brandy Hall. She always oversaw the cooking, and discovering early on that being in the kitchen also kept me close to the pantries," Frodo chuckled impishly, "I started helping her. I do not exaggerate when I say that her cherry pie put even those wonderful apple dumplings that Mistress Cotton made for the last Yuletide Festival to shame."

"She couldn't have been better than my Aunt Henna!" Hazel put in earnestly. "Aunt Henna's even better than my mum!"

"I haven't tasted your Aunt Henna's cherry pie," said Frodo as he selected a stuffed mushroom and took a bite, "but I would be very surprised if it could surpass my Aunt Menegilda's. It was truly humbling to see her at work."

Sam looked skeptical. "I think I'd have to taste it meself to believe it," he said. "Anything that's better than Mistress Cotton's apple dumplings or Henna Gamgee's pie must be made with Elf magic."

"Well, perhaps that was the secret ingredient," Frodo suggested, grinning. He imitated the voice of old Daddy Twofoot, who was known to be rather outspoken about his thoughts on the Bucklanders. "Those Brandybucks, living on the wrong side of the River after all—too close to the Old Forest, messin' about with things not meant for hobbits… Queer folk, they are! Well-nigh mad!"

Sam laughed. "Why, Mr. Frodo, I can just see old Dad sayin' that!"

Robin chimed into the conversation. "My da says that folk in Buckland are mad," he said. He was not being derisive, merely curious. "He says that they paddle about in boats an' swim!"

"We swim and 'paddle about in boats' at the Pond," Hazel pointed out, a little defensively on Frodo's behalf.

"But not in a great big river like the Brandywine!" Robin persisted. He looked at Frodo. "Did you really, Mr. Frodo? Go boatin' and swimmin' in the river?"

Sam winced at the unintentionally sensitive question, and looked anxiously at his master. Frodo might have paled slightly, but otherwise his face remained composed. "Well, I didn't take to water quite as much as my cousins," he said carefully. "But yes, almost everyone I knew there liked to swim and go out boating." A very slight shudder passed over his face at the last word, unnoticed by the boys but not by Sam, who decided it was time to change the subject.

"Oh, I'm not sure, Mr. Frodo," he said casually. "You're a fine swimmer. Remember that summer you and Master Merry made that raft and tried to float it out on the Water?"

Frodo grinned at the memory and went to work on his third stuffed mushroom. "It was a marvelous raft," he told Hazel and Robin, who were listening attentively. "Except that once Merry and I had paddled it into the middle of the Water it broke apart and we had to swim back to shore…" He flushed a little thinking about it. "… where a very smug and amused Samwise was waiting for us—"

"I had told you that it weren't safe, Mr. Frodo," Sam pointed out mildly.

"Yes," Frodo conceded, "but neither of us wished to be reminded of that at the time. In fact, I seem to recall Merry threatening to throw you into the Water if you didn't stop smirking…"

Sam looked embarrassed. "I weren't smirking, sir, honest!" he protested. "Chucklin' a bit, maybe, but—"

"Oh no." Frodo shook his head firmly. "You were smirking, Sam." He laughed and went on before a very red-faced Sam could make another protest. "Not that you didn't have a right to be, of course, as Bilbo said when we came into Bag End dripping wet and disappointed. We got no sympathy from him!"

Sam sighed, thinking back on the many happy summers he had spent with Frodo—and often one or more of his cousins. "What about the time you an' Master Pippin caught a frog an' dropped it into Miss Lobelia's umbrella as she was leavin' Bag End? Ye got a bit more sympathy then, I think."

"Oh, yes, I remember that most clearly," Frodo agreed mischievously. "It started when Pippin decided to catch a frog to give to Merry (he was coming to visit that day, you remember), and I had to help him to make sure he didn't get too muddy. Of course, we both ended up getting muddy by the time we had caught the silly thing, and just as we were coming up to the door of Bag End, we heard Lobelia inside, shouting, so we hid next to the door. I can't remember which of us decided to toss it into her umbrella, but we did as soon as she opened the door—she didn't even see us at first, she was so upset. It didn't take very long for her to discover it, as I recall."

"No," Sam agreed, chuckling. "She weren't two steps out of the gate. Shrieked loud enough to shatter glass, she did! I was so startled I almost pulled out one o' Mr. Bilbo's favorite flowers while I was weedin'!"

All four of them were, by now, laughing heartily at the prank. "She carried on for a good while, didn't she, Sam?" Frodo tried to get his breath back; all this laughing was starting to hurt his side. "Threw the frog right out of the umbrella, she was waving it about so much—and it landed right in front of her, too! Then she tried to hit the poor thing with her umbrella. Pippin and I saved it, and we each earned a whack on the head in the process—I suppose we rather resembled the frog with all our mud." Robin and Hazel were rolling with laughter.

"An' then me an' the Gaffer came to see what was the matter," Sam added, "an' she nearly whacked us, too! Then Mr. Bilbo came out an' it took us all near a half-hour to calm her down, as I recall." He was beginning to turn a bit red from suppressed laughter. "She weren't pleased 't'all, once she learned what happened, neither…"

Frodo sobered a bit. "No, she wasn't—she nearly took another swing at Pippin and I with her umbrella!" He grinned, starting to chuckle again. "But she didn't come back for a long while, after that. Bilbo was a good deal more sympathetic that time! Gave us both extra helpings of dessert as a reward, in fact."

Just then, Jessimine entered to find all four hobbits sprawled on the bed, laughing helplessly, stew, biscuits and remaining stuffed mushrooms forgotten. Setting down the plate of raspberry tarts she was carrying, the hobbitwife placed her hands on her hips. "And just what d'you lot think you're about?" she demanded severely. "Mr. Frodo, ye're going to burst those stitches of yours if you don't stop laughin' so hard, an' then I'll have to sew 'em back up!"

Sitting up, Frodo wiped tears of mirth from his face and gave her a lopsided grin. "Hullo, Jess!" he greeted her cheerfully. "How nice of you to join us! Ohh, are those some of yesterday's raspberry tarts? You'll spoil me!"

"Not if you don't finish that stew, I won't!" Jessimine warned, slapping his hand away from the plate.

Frodo rolled his eyes but obediently reached over and took a few sips of the stew before returning his attention to the tarts.

Jessimine gave a sigh of long-suffering as Frodo set the plate in his lap and shared the tarts with the other occupants of the bed. "What am I to do with you?" she mourned. "Sam, Mr. Frodo, you should be settin' a better example for the lads! What must poor Robin think of us now?"

Robin grinned impishly at her around a large mouthful of tart. "I think Mr. Frodo an' Mr. Sam are the funniest folk I ever met."

"Mmmff, shoulden talk wiv y'mouff full," Hazel admonished through his own tart.

Robin ignored him and swallowed, continuing, "An' you an' Mr. Halfred are the nicest!" He smiled up winningly at Jessimine.

She considered a moment before deciding to take his words as a compliment, and then she leaned down and patted his head indulgently, knowing how he detested the gesture. "What a dear you are, Robin Tunnelly!" she said, giving his cheek a pinch and smiling warmly. "I think I shall have to look to you to set a better example for these rascals!"

Resisting the urge to rub his cheek resentfully, Robin forced a dutiful smile and nodded. "Oh, I will, ma'am!"

"I'm sure you will." Jessimine turned to plant a quick kiss on her son's curly head (much to his embarrassment) and picked up the empty plate, moving towards the door. Behind her back Robin rubbed at his cheek furiously while Hazel grimaced expressively at him and Frodo and Sam fought to keep back unsympathetic chuckles.

Pausing in the doorway, Jessimine suddenly looked back, catching Hazel and Robin as they quickly straightened up in an appearance of innocence. Pretending not to notice, she smiled at them again and shot a sharp glance at Frodo and Sam. "Mr. Frodo," she said, "your stew's gettin' cold. Sam, Hazel-lad, Robin, will you make sure he eats every bit of food on that plate, please? And with no extra help from you, mind!"

Donning an expression of suitable chastening, Frodo nodded and the other three copied the gesture, striving to look dutiful. Her victory complete, Jessimine smiled a little wickedly at all of them, nodded in satisfaction and left the room.

When she had gone Frodo sighed. "Upon further consideration, Sam, I think I'm quite happy to have you cooking for me," he said. "Jessimine would be sure to fatten me up in no time—I wouldn't be able to move with her forcing me to eat every single bite of that delicious food of hers!"

Sam chuckled. "Er, speaking of which, Mr. Frodo," he said innocently, "Jessi was right. Your stew's a mite cold now, but ye'd best get to it if you wanted to try a bit o' walkin' today."

Frodo shot him a glare but applied himself to the stew, biscuits and stuffed mushrooms. He had almost completely regained his appetite by now—which, despite his unusual slenderness, had always been perfectly hobbitsized—and the prospect of getting to walk a bit was an added motivation.

While he worked on finishing his meal, Robin and Hazel kept up a steady stream of chatter, with Sam adding a comment here and there. Frodo, despite Jessimine's admonitions, shared a biscuit or two with his friends, and it was not long before the tray lay empty on the bedside table.

Frodo stretched out on his back, gingerly so as not to pull too much at the stitches, and crossed his arms behind his head. Hazel stretched out beside him, while Sam and Robin sat at the foot of the bed. The cheerful conversation began to dwindle down as the combination of good food and the warmth of the summer sun began to take effect.

Seeing that they were all in danger of falling asleep, Sam decided it was time for Hazel and Robin to play outside. "Come now," he said as they protested, "you don't want to be wastin' a fine summer day like this nappin' indoors? Go on outside an' have some fun. Mr. Frodo an' I will be out in an hour or two, after Mr. Frodo's had a bit of a nap."

Glancing out the round window at the clear, sunny afternoon, Hazel and Robin decided that Sam was right, and scurried out. Sam stacked the plates neatly on the tray but did not carry them out just yet. "Not a crumb left," he chuckled to himself. "Ye'll be runnin' about in no time if you keep up like this, Mr. Frodo."

Frodo smiled without opening his eyes, enjoying the warmth of the sun shining upon the bed. "I hope so, Sam," he replied. "I intend to do credit to Jessimine's cooking and be up and about properly by tomorrow."

There was no reply, and Frodo opened his eyes and sat up, sensing the mood shift in his friend. Sam sat on the edge of the bed, and turned to Frodo, his brown eyes solemn. "Mr. Frodo," he said after a long moment of silence. "What 'appened out there, with the wolf…" He paused, as if uncertain. Frodo frowned, wondering where this line of conversation was headed.

"Well," Sam went on, "you were hurt summat awful, Mr. Frodo. An' I don't mind tellin' you I've never been so frightened in my whole life, not even when we brushed with that nasty snake-thing all those years ago. I—I were real worried, Mr. Frodo… I almost didn't think you'd make it, sometimes…"

Frodo understood then, and he pulled Sam into an embrace. "Bless you, Sam," he said sincerely. "I don't know what I've done to deserve such a friend. I can't even imagine how terrible it must have been for you. For all of you."

Sam pulled back and dragged a sleeve across his eyes. "The worst part was seein' you hurtin' so much, an' me not bein' able to do anything about it," he confessed. "I hope it never happens again, Mr. Frodo!"

Frodo nodded. "I know, Sam," he said softly. "I'll be careful. If only to keep from causing you worry." He smiled, trying to lighten the mood again. "I suppose I've told you that often enough, haven't I?"

Sam smiled back. "Aye, you have," he said. "But I know you always try. Bad things just seem to follow us sometimes!"

Frodo laughed. "I've often thought that; but good things follow us, too. We're blessed, Sam, we hobbits. Not many on the Outside have such peaceful, protected lives as we do. I'm sure that even the Elves can't live in such happiness."

"I don't know about that, sir," chuckled Sam. "I don't know as Elves need the same kind of happiness as hobbits, if you follow me. They seem happier in their trees an' valleys." He sighed. "Ah, Elves. Now you've got me thinkin' on 'em, Mr. Frodo. An' that letter I got from Lindir, all those years ago. Remember the song he sent with it?"

Frodo smiled, knowing how much Sam enjoyed reciting the Elf-song. He'd devised his own tune for it, not knowing the original Elvish one, of course. "Why don't you sing it, Sam?" he asked. "It's a lovely song—perfect for a summer's afternoon."

Sam needed no second bidding. "''Tis merry in greenwood – thus runs the old lay, –

In the gladsome month of lively May…"*

The song was little more than halfway done when Sam felt something slump against him, and soft curls brushing his chin. He looked down to see that Frodo had fallen asleep, leaning against Sam with his head resting on his shoulder. 'Ah, that's done it then,' he thought with satisfaction. 'A little nap will do him good.' Smiling to himself, Sam carefully pulled back the coverlets and lowered his master gently down. Frodo did not stir, save to smile briefly and turn his cheek into the pillows. Sam covered him lightly, got up to draw closed the window-curtains, and then sat on the edge of the bed again.

He watched Frodo for several minutes, humming the rest of his song under his breath. Absently he took Frodo's hand and stroked it gently. "Don't you worry, Mr. Frodo," he murmured when he had finished. "Your Sam will always be here when bad things come followin' you." He kissed his master's hand and set it down at Frodo's side. "I promise."

Sam rose then, quietly gathered up the empty tray from the bedside table and headed for the door. Pausing to glance back and make sure Frodo was sleeping peacefully, he nodded to himself and shut the door softly behind him.

'I promise, Mr. Frodo. Your Sam will always be there for you.'

~TBC~

A/N: Yes, I know this chapter is rather shorter than most—and there is a reason for that. I've decided to finally take Obelia's advice and start writing shorter chapters, in the hopes that doing so will speed up my rate of updating. *shrug* I don't know if it will work, but it's worth a try! ^_^ I did do much better this time – under two months! ;-)

Oh yes, two other rather important notes! Hazel's "Aunt Henna" is not my invention, but that of the generous Obelia medusa, who kindly allowed me to borrow her. Hopefully she will make a full appearance in a future chapter!

And, if you recall from the last chapter of "What Could Possibly Happen?", "'Tis Merry in Greenwood" is not my own creation, either. It is a poem by Walter Scott. No copyright infringement was intended, of course.

Aratlithiel1: Thank you! I recently read your story "The Contest," and again I'm totally in love with your portrayal of Frodo. I love his sense of humor! You're definitely on my list of writers I want to be like when I "grow up." :-) I'm glad you enjoyed the banter, and the farewell scene – I ended up becoming quite fond of Gavin myself and I was sad to see him go. I'm glad that others grew fond of him as well. Thanks for your kind comments!

Arwen Baggins: I'm glad you're satisfied with my depiction of Frodo's recovery—I don't have any personal experience of that myself, so I am largely guessing. Of course, with Frodo's stubbornness, his recovery probably did not take as long as it normally would have! ;-)

Elbereth: Aww, goodbyes make me sad, too! That's why this chapter was mostly light-hearted hobbit fluff. ;-)

Elwen: Thank you! I'm glad you're enjoying it. :-D

Erisinia Gazelle: Aw, thanks! Now that I'm shortening my chapters, hopefully I'll be able to update faster. Hopefully, being the keyword of course… :-P And yes, ch. 9 of FOTW is being proofread now! I should have that up by this week. :-D

Nevaeh Elenath: Well, I sort of wasted my Christmas break—but I was a bit faster than usual this time! ;-D Yes, it is definitely bittersweet to torture hobbits, and rather addicting.. O_o Actually, I do have plans for a future Sam-angst short story, so stay tuned! :-)

Obelia medusa: Ah, Obelia. Taking up a full page all on your own, as usual. So short and concise! ;-) Sheesh, it seems like so long since you reviewed, even though I was quicker than usual this time! You were about to go home for Christmas break… wow. :-P Well, I'm glad those ruffians' threats of daggers and grimy fingers got you to finish ch. 33! Who'd have thought it would take the combined threats of Gandalf and "Saddam's" chemical weapons (with the addition of the Silly Ficlet!) to get you to finish ch. 34? ;-)

Heehee, "Tathar-induced cuteness." *giggle* I was rather pleased with that paragraph, too… ;-D

That's right! I was thinking of a line from FotR (in the House of Tom Bombadil, I think) when I wrote that, which went something along the lines of "as far as he knew, Sam slept through the night in deep content, if logs are contented." ^_^


You know, the other day I seriously considered abandoning the Willow Loamsdown-Boffin idea and deciding to "be" Jessimine… I think I'm all right with Willow now (especially if I get an opportunity to smack Averill with a soup ladle!!), but I am rather envious of Jessimine. :-P Ohhh, I like the idea of her being a doctor's assistant in her youth! (And who else but Dr. Hornblower? ;-D) As her mum was a bit of a healer herself, it would be likely that she'd want Jessimine to get some more experience, once she showed an interest in such things!

Awww! *sniffle* I take it back, I take it back! I wanna come to the wedding. *looks as innocent and mournful as a Little Girl can*

There, see, only a month and a half to get this one up! I'm still Lieutenant!! :-D

*salutes once more*

Your humble obedient servant,
Lutnant Sweetie Girl Tathar/etc…

Pearl Took: Thanks so much, Pearl—your kind reviews are always encouraging! I hope this chapter did not disappoint. :)

shirebound: Yes, teasing, stubbornness and hobbityness are my favorites, too! ;) I'm glad you're enjoying it!

wanequelle: LOL, I think I'm done being overly harsh with Frodo—at least for this story. (Of course, there will always be others, muahaha…) I'm glad the Gamgees are loveable; I've become quite fond of them myself. :) And look, I did get this chapter up faster than last time! ;-D