Chapter 5
Stouthearted
Sam closed the small book he held in his hands, pondering and perplexing over what Frodo divulge in his writing. He was not sure what he was going to do with this book. He ran his fingers over the fine leather that he had polished and made to look like new. He realized just why Frodo put that book where he had found it— a memory so painful it had to be put aside. Sam could understand the heartache Frodo felt, because he too buried his own wife. But for Sam, it was different; he had spent his entire life with Rosie and raised thirteen of their children together. Sam could not even count the number of grandchildren and great-grandchildren of his, but in their presence, he could recall each name.
Guilt devoured Sam knowing how his master only had one brief moment with the one that he had loved, while Sam had a lifetime of love. Then Sam knew it was not the only pain that Frodo had suffered—he lost his mother and father in the same manner. Then the memories of the war of the ring poured through his thoughts and how the ring tortured and possessed Frodo, even to the end of losing his finger in the ring's destruction. Yes, some hurts do go very deep to where time can not mend them and they take hold. Those words caused his heart to ache. Sam wished he would have never found this book, never knew the contents of what he read, but it could not be erased, it was there and stood foremost in his mind. Sam's tears ran down his cheeks from the emotions that welted deep within him. Clutching the small book tightly within his hands and pressing it hard against his chest, Sam whispered to himself sobbing, "Why?" unable to understand the reasons for all that Frodo had to bear in his life.
…….
The front door of Bag End opened and slammed shut, there was a bustle of noises and voices in the hallway that had awaken the elderly hobbit from his slumber. Sam opened his eyes and listened to the familiar noise coming from the old cook who had begun her duties of the day.
He did not know how long he had slept, whether it was a few moments or hours, or even falling asleep for that matter. His eyes ached from the sorrow of his tears and he cast his eyes to the side of him and there lay the small book of Frodo's.
Hearing the old cook rattling her cart down the corridor where she filled the oil lamps and replaced burnt out candles with new ones, Sam knew she would soon be coming into his room to awaken him. He did not want anyone to see this small book or start the curiosity in others. He did not want to explain this book or divulge any of Frodo's secrets. Rushing, Sam flung his sheets and blankets from off himself and stiffly maneuvered over to his closet to find a hiding spot. The small drawers in his chest that housed items such as buttons, cufflinks and jewelry was not big enough for Frodo's book, and his larger drawers will filled full of knitted sweaters, woolen vest and soft undergarments.
He heard the click of his bedroom door being opened and he saw his best green weskit that he seldom ever wore with its deep pockets and he quickly placed it in there when the old cook shouted out to him.
"Mayor Gardner?" she spoke in her old, raspy, high-pitched voice coming further into the room and over to the closet door. "Yer up early, sir, is 'ere anything I can get fer ya?"
"No, Mrs. Boffin, I can manage for myself, but thankee kindly for asking," announced Sam.
"Yer son, Master Robin be in the kitchen, sir, pour'n himself a cup 'o me fine brew'd tea and asked me ta fetch ya fer to join'n him," she informed him.
Looking at his cook, Sam raised his eye brow thinking that his son should be out shirriffing rather than sipping his tea.
"Tell him I'll be along just as soon as I'm properly dressed," and waved his hand towards her for some private time.
She shuffled her feet from her master's room and closed the door behind her. Sam could hear the old cook's cart being pushed further down the corridor and away from his door.
Sam only had a few moments to get himself dressed so not to delay his son any longer than necessary so he would resume his duties as shirriff.
Sam leaned his weight upon his heavy wooden cane and rushed his weak old knees down the long corridor of Bag End.
There leaning up against the stone countertop and sipping his tea, was his youngest son, Robin. He wore his green hat with the long feather and his matching weskit that gave him the authority and respect of others.
"The satisfaction and duties of your position is not served well within the kitchen of Bag End," Sam chided his son.
Robin put down his teacup and turned with a smile towards his scowling father. "The good folk of Hobbiton sit gathered at their tables enjoying the pleasures of their first breakfast, should not their shirriff do likewise?" he paused a moment and took yet another sip of his tea, and then added, "An empty stomach does not provide good satisfaction, nor serves the Shire folk in which their trust is upon me."
Leaning upon his cane, Sam shuffled his feet pass his son and headed towards the table and sat down. "Get your Da a cup of tea and join me. Mrs. Boffin will prepare our first breakfast."
Sam sat quiet at his table with his cup of tea and listened to his son's polite conversation. His mind kept wandering back to the little book and the words of his master. Sam would occasional nod as if he heard every word in which his son spoke and Robin noticed his lack of attention and asked him, "Is everything well with you, Da?"
"As well as can be for the age of my old bones and aching joints," Sam commented.
"You seem lost in thought more so then usual. Is there goings on in Hobbiton that I should concern myself with?" asked Robin knowing his father and his deep concerns with the welfare of those who lived within the Shire.
"None that I can think of," commented Sam, but in his thoughts that were ever pressing upon his mind were of Frodo and he knew his time had come in that moment to join his master in the Grey Havens. Sam turned to his son with a new passion burning within him.
"A party!" he suddenly exclaimed. "Yes, that's it! Bag End needs a party and we'll invite everyone." Sam stood and clutched his cane leaning his weight upon it.
"Wait a minute, Da!" shouted Robin to regain Sam's fleeting attention. "Bag End is still not finished with its repairs and you need your rest. You can not plan a party of which you speak."
"Yes, I can, Robin," insisted Sam with excitement and then added, "You're going to help me!"
Robin's face wrinkled in confusion at the sudden change in his father. "What about my shirriffing job, I thought you wanted me to apply myself more to my work."
"You have others helping you, let them do more so of the job," said Sam dismissing Robin of his responsibilities. "I need you now!"
Robin turned up the corners of his lips and wondered if Sam's age had taken away his common sense and feebleness of his mind. Taking a hold of his father's shoulder, Robin turned his father around so to face him, "You're the one who appointed me shirriff of Hobbiton and that my responsibilities lye first with the Shire folk."
Sam looked directly into his eyes and heard his words, "You're right, go now and get all your brothers and sisters, tell them to bring their wives and their husbands. Tell them to gather all their children and bring themselves here to me today. Samwise Gamgee Gardner is going to say his farewells under the party tree that I had planted to everyone that I have met and known. There is going to be a party, Robin!"
Robin was hit with the full force of Sam's words and it made his mind spin in mystification and perplexity. What his father ordered of him would be equal to summing an army of great numbers because Sam was known and loved by every hobbit in the Shire. He had touched every heart from his kindness and devotion from the long life that he had lived and had stretched far further than the boarders of the Shire.
A knot twisted in Robin's throat and tears swelled in his eyes of respect, pride and love he had for him. The pain throbbing in his chest knowing these were the final days of his father and that separation ensued him.
Sam could see the thick tears swelling in his son's eyes and he reached his arms around him to hug him. Sam's voice eased to comforting tones and filled with fatherly compassion. "It's all right, Robin, my time has now come as it should be. Each mother and father must hand down their torch to their children and their children must step forward to take on their own lives with their own destinies at hand. The parting is painful, but is how life proceeds as each one born must someday face."
Sam tightened his embrace upon his son when he felt his shoulder quiver in his sorrow.
Patting him firmly on his son's back, Sam pulled away from him. With encouragement, Sam asked him, "Go now and do what I have asked of you. It will take every hand that can be offered to help plan this party."
Directly after first breakfast, Robin was out the door and heading to the homes of his brothers and sisters.
In the week that followed, the family of Samwise Gamgee Gardner had finished putting together the biggest party that Hobbiton would ever see. There were grand colorful flags and bright banners sewn and large tents to house the many services that this party would offer. There were tents for the bakers who make the cakes, pies and breads and tents for the cooks who would prepare huge pots of favored dishes of sweet meats, stews and all kinds of side dishes of mushroom, tomatoes and greens. Beside the tents were tables after tables that lined the party field with wooden benches and single wooden stools. Kegs of ale were rolled and stacked high and mugs and glassware were gathered from numerous families on trays piled one on top of the other. There were special tents for games and prizes for the children both young and old alike. Huge baskets and bins stored the gifts that Samwise had chosen all with their own labels for the many guests and relatives invited or not. Invitations were bundled and tied and stuffed into large bags to be delivered to the messenger of each farthing including the new additions of the Shire—The Westmarch and Buckland.
The messengers bore heavy bags upon their ponies as each one rode out in different directions.
While the word passed from township to townships, families opened their homes to the many guests that would soon arrive from distant farthings. Carriages and wagons began to fill the roads as neighbors joined neighbors upon their trek to Hobbiton.
Soon every home, barn, stable, spare bedroom, dinning room table and kitchen floor had a guests sleeping upon them. Families gathered around campfires in front of their tents in the empty fields and they waited in anticipation of this party.
When the day of the party arrived, Sam put on his best green weskit and then headed down to the party field to greet all the guests that were just arriving.
Sam shyly climbed upon the platform and nervously strummed his fingers together. Looking outward to the largest group of hobbits ever assembled, Sam stood in front of them so they could hear his final farewell to the Shire.
His eyes roamed the crowd going from recognizable face to another, each one he knew and at one time or another he had offered his help to them. Each face brought a memory to his mind of kind words spoken or a pleasant moment spent and it brought a smile to his humble lips.
There stood Boffins' mixed with the Tooks', Bucklanders' mixed with Baggins' and Broadbelts'. There were Hornblowers' and Proudfeets' with Fairbarins' and Goodbodys'. There were Gamgee's from his brother's side of his family and Cottons' and Northern Tooks' from his sister's side of the family. Sam saw all of his thirteen adult children in the mix of all of his grandchildren and even some of his great-grandchildren. Each eye and each smiling face was looking up towards him, silently waiting for him to speak.
Sam shuffled his feet and cleared his throat more times than he needed to and tried to find a comfortable stance upon the platform in which he stood. Not knowing what to say, but knowing he had to say something he cleared his throat yet again, Sam began to speak with them.
"Well, I'm not much for the fancier words and all, nor being too long winded, as it were. But I've come to tell you my farewells and that I'll be leaving very soon. I know my Gaffer would be telling me not to venture any further then the goods of our gardens, but my time here is over and your times are just beginning," Sam looked directly into the eyes of his sons and daughters and those of his grandchildren, while he spoke, and then after a short pause and a few more shuffles of his feet he continued.
"All that I can say if truth be known is that there is not one of you that my heart will ever forget nor your faces ever become faded. I leave the Shire in your care and my fondness of farewells to each of you…."
There was a great silence that followed Sam's few words and the moment seemed lost in time. Then an old hobbit stood from his seat and began to clap his hands and then another elderly hobbit stood a few tables down from him and he joined his friend. Sam immediately recognized Peregrin Took and Merriadoc Brandybuck. When they stood before their great number of their clan, so did every single Took and Brandybuck alike and they too began to clap their hands. Adding to this great number of clan hobbits, stood the entire Shire of folks from every farthing and their clamor was deafening to the ears when they stood in front of Sam to honor him. A great roar of shouts and cheers exploded all shouting out his name, "To Samwise, the Stouthearted!"
Sam could feel his tears of pride fall down the wrinkles of his cheeks being so honored while he stood in the throng of this great audience.
Sam silently spoke a poem while he stood facing this crowd that cheered him.
'This day I stand upon my journey's end
My feet upon the land of my friends,
No shadow will I ever cast
But my memories will forever last.
I bid to you my fond farewell,
And in the Grey Havens I shall dwell.'
Sam turned from the crowd that all praised his name, and went back into Bag End with his children that followed him.
His wagon was loaded and stood ready for him. Sam had packed each wooden box and the things that he would leave to Elanor including the red book that Frodo had given him. Sam's closest friends, Peregrin Took and his son Faramir, with Merriadoc and his son, sat beside Sam's son, Frodo and Frodo Gardner's son sat beside Sam, when the wagon pulled away from Bag End and headed towards the Westmarch.
The small group only stayed one night with Fastred and Elanor, and in the early morning hours, Samwise Gamgee Gardner bid his family a tearful farewell and went onto the Grey Havens escorted only by Peregrin and Merriadoc.
The two hobbits watched Sam climb the plank to the ship that would take him to his master, and Sam stood there for a moment and waved his final good-byes to them and then turned and walked up the plank and then Samwise the Stouthearted was gone.
