Notes to Readers:

Please be sure to leave a review! They are very motivating, and each review you leave entitles you to a free cup of cyber-tea in the parlour (The Muse and I do try to make our guests feel welcome). What you are seeing here is the edited draft. (Thanks to my editor who prefers to work behind the scenes.)

RabidSamFan, thank you for the compliment. I actually did a bit of research into the "class" mentality before I started writing, just to get it right, and have a lot of reading under my belt where it is treated as naturally as breathing... at the moment I'm thinking of Lord Peter Whimsey's butler, among others, although he might not be the "norm". Still, he reminds me somehow of Samwise, the way he takes care of his master. It has been years since I read any of Dorothy Sayers' mysteries, but I still remember how he protected Peter--in the trenches of the Great War, to start, wasn't it?—but especially when Peter would have his "bad spells" after the War.

Xena, hope the chapter didn't come across as too "teachy". I am honestly fascinated by the relationships between people and sometimes I indulge myself in exploring them, though it slows down the pace of the action. Still, Jane Austen did much the same, not that I am fit to sharpen her pen nibs... But at least I'm in good company.

Runaway Update: Runaway is finished! It came in at 34 chapters. Another chapter will be posted to ff.net as soon as my editor is finished with it.

Expect another chapter of "Small and Passing Thing" in a day or three, if all goes well. My editor is helping me whip the thing into shape, chapter by chapter.

I have begun posting the chapters of "Shire" interspersed with chapters from this story from now on, as long as ffnet and my editor cooperate. One of these days she'll tire of reading about "my editor" and let me use her name...! Until then, dear editor, I bow to your untiring aid!

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Chapter 40. Thoughts of Home

Samwise continued to come and go well into February, pursuing his forestry business in the Southfarthing where the ground did not freeze. Those at the Cotton farm saw less of him now that the New Row was finished. He'd moved his things into the new "Number Three" when Hamfast and Marigold removed to their new hobbit hole.

Mr. Frodo surprised the Gamgees with a grand hole-warming party, and many hobbits came to bless their new home, bearing gifts of food and household articles. Rose brought a rug she'd braided from scraps of wool, Mrs. Cotton brought jars of jam and preserves, and Farmer Cotton brought another waggonload of firewood which his sons had neatly stacked in less time than it takes to tell. Frodo produced a bottle of fine vintage, fetched by messenger from Crickhollow, and there were many other presents, great and small. A fine time was had by all and the Gamgees were settled comfortably in their new hole, their pantry stuffed with good things by the time the last guest departed. Samwise, however, still showed no sign of speaking to Rose. She reminded herself that Mr. Frodo was not yet returned to Bag End and tried to hold her peace.

As has been said, Sam continued his journeys around the Shire, returning occasionally to Bywater to check on his old gaffer and on Mr. Frodo, though Freddy had taken over as nursemaid for his cousin. Under Freddy's constant watch, Frodo limited his writing to a few hours a day and never missed a meal. He complained that it slowed the writing.

'What's your hurry?' Freddy asked over tea one afternoon in the middle of February. 'You've an entire lifetime to finish the Story. Take your time, get it right, and take time to live whilst you're at it.'

'I could slip and fall getting out of bed on the morrow, hit my head and that would be the end of things,' Frodo said. 'Lifetime, you say?'

'Bite your tongue, cousin!' Estella said with a shudder.

'You've your whole life ahead of you,' Freddy said firmly. 'Don't try to live it all in a month or two, or even a year.'

'Speak for yourself,' Frodo said with meaning. At Freddy's surprised look he continued, 'I've noticed how vigorously you've applied yourself to getting well; you eat everything that's set before you, you walk a little further every day, you speak only of cheerful things...'

'O yes?' Freddy said politely. 'Is there some sort of problem?'

'You are in such a rush to go home,' Frodo said soberly, 'yet you never speak of the future beyond that.'

'I cannot stay here at the Cottons' forever,' Freddy said calmly. 'They'll have to adopt me, and then what will Odovacar do for an heir?'

'Do you still think you're going home to die?' Frodo asked softly.

Freddy didn't answer, simply stared into the dregs of his tea, while a fist of fear clenched Estella's heart.

'Freddy?' she said, scarcely breathing.

'I could slip and fall getting out of bed on the morrow,' Freddy quoted in a low voice. 'Why should I fear death?' he added, lifting his head, his voice growing stronger. 'It will come to us all in time.'

'But Freddy—' Frodo said.

Freddy held up a hand to stop him. 'I do not know what the future holds,' he said. 'I'm stronger now. Strong enough, I hope.' He tapped Frodo's plate. 'You, on the other hand, have yet to finish your tea.'

'I couldn't eat another bite,' Frodo said.

'O yes, I think you can, rather,' Freddy contradicted, drawing out the last word for emphasis. 'I'll have to tell Samwise if you don't, you see.'

'I'll have to come to Bridgefields with you to get away from him,' Frodo said, reluctantly picking up the untouched scone on his plate.

'Here, my venerable and ancient cousin, slather it with cream and jam and it will slip down your throat quite easily,' Estella said, dropping a large dollop of cream on Frodo's plate.

'My thanks,' Frodo said, following her advice. 'How about another cup of tea?'

'Pot's empty,' Estella said, lifting that article. 'I'll be back with more!' She rose smoothly from the sofa, much more sure of herself than when she had first begun to wear the fancy but cumbersome clothing befitting her status.

When she was gone Frodo sighed.

'What is it, Frodo?' Freddy asked.

'She's growing up so fast; I do believe I'll be asked to dance at her wedding soon.'

'So it seems,' Freddy said thoughtfully. 'I had wondered whom my parents had picked out. I know there's an agreement but they've kept it quiet for some reason.' He eyed Frodo keenly. 'There was some sort of problem; I half thought it was because you disappeared.'

Frodo choked on a bit of scone and Freddy slapped his back apologetically.

'I'm nearly old enough to be her father!' Frodo said indignantly.

'It is not you then,' Freddy said, 'though age has seldom been a stumbling block in the great families. My own Uncle Rudi has his eye on a youngish Took...'

'Safe to say, it is not I,' Frodo answered. His curiosity was aroused. 'Who then?' he asked. 'Merry?'

'I doubt it,' Freddy said, leaning back. 'I was supposed to marry Melilot Brandybuck last year, right about the time the ruffians threw me into the Lockholes as a matter of fact. Poor Melly, left in the lurch! My father's said nothing about it since... perhaps the Master of Buckland is waiting to see if I survive the return to Budge Hall.'

'Don't jest so!' Frodo said.

'Who's jesting?' Freddy answered calmly. 'In any event, we would not both marry Brandybucks; that's not the way the Bolgers do things.'

'Your father married a Took and his brother "has his eye" on a Took,' Frodo argued.

'You know, you're right,' Freddy said thoughtfully, then shook his head. 'No, the agreements for our marriages were formed quite awhile ago. Though we may have changed a bit under the ruffians, those agreements remain in force unless formally dissolved... and you'd hear about that. It would be all the talk. Uncle Rudi was supposed to marry a Boffin I think, but she died before they could marry. I was surprised to hear he was thinking of marriage — to a Took at that! — as a matter of fact.' He ate the last of his scone. 'It may come to nothing,' he concluded. 'Rudi hasn't even mentioned it to anyone.'

'How do you know, then?' Frodo wanted to know.

Freddy chuckled. 'He was thinking out loud one night, watching by my bedside. He didn't know I heard him, I suspect. I was quite ill at the time.'

Estella returned with the pot and refreshed everyone's cup and Frodo was able to choke down the rest of his scone.

The next day the Bolger cousins and Frodo took tea with the Cottons and Gamgees, for Samwise had returned for a few days before going off again.

'Perhaps you'd like to come with me, Mr. Frodo,' he said. 'Take a break from the writing, breathe some fresh air, see the sights. The Shire is beginning to turn green again, with the early spring we're having.'

'So mild for mid-February,' Farmer Cotton agreed. 'Why, the cherry trees are in full bloom!'

'I keep wanting to check on the trees I planted, though I know nothing can have come of that yet,' Samwise admitted, then sat up straight, flushing in excitement. 'But—you know that little silver nut that was in my box, Mr. Frodo?'

'I remember,' Frodo said.

'I planted it where the Party Tree had stood, if you remember, and... it's sprouted already!'

'Has it, Sam? How interesting,' Freddy said, raising an eyebrow.

'It has! It's knee-high already, growing faster than any tree I've ever seen, and has silver bark. Do you think it might be a mallorn?' Sam asked eagerly.

'I don't know, Samwise; a mallorn,' Frodo said slowly, 'that would be quite a wonder.'

'Mallorn?' Farmer Cotton asked. 'I'm not familiar with that kind of tree.'

'They grow in the Elven wood of Lothlorien,' Sam said. 'I told you about the little golden flowers there, Rose, didn't I?'

Rose nodded. Sam had told her about the beautiful parts of the journey, when she'd been at the Gamgees for tea with Marigold. From little bits of discussion she'd overheard when the Bolgers were in the parlour with Frodo, she knew that a lot more had gone on that Sam had not mentioned.

'An Elf-tree, here in the Shire!' Young Tom marvelled. 'Imagine that!'

'Let us not count our chickens until they're in the pot,' Farmer Cotton warned. 'It could be nothing more amazing than a silver beech or somewhat.'

'We'll have to wait until it leafs out, in March do you think?' Frodo said. 'By that time I ought to be back in Bag End and can check on it regularly.'

'You'll have to write and let us know,' Freddy put in. 'We'll have been back in Bridgefields for weeks by that time.' As the others turned to him he added, 'The latest letter says that all is ready. We just need to pack up and be on our way.'

There were exclamations from all. 'I cannot believe you are leaving us,' Mrs. Cotton said at the last. 'Why, it feels just as if you are a part of the family!'

'You have been too kind,' Freddy answered. 'This feels so much like home now that I fear I will feel like a visitor at Budge Hall.'

That would be all to the good, Frodo thought to himself. Aloud he said. 'I believe I shall take a break from writing and accompany you there.' Sam looked pleased. He thought his master had been overdoing and a break would be good for him. Estella looked pleased as well, for a different reason. For all intents and purposes Freddy seemed to be back to his old self. Still worry gnawed at her. She didn't know exactly what she expected, but she was very glad that Frodo would be there.