Where Sam Becomes Terribly Domestic and I Become a Writer, a Singer, and a Teacher
25 November 3019, of the Third Age
5 Foreyule 1419, Shire-Reckoning Time...
Having Rosie at Bag End became absolutely normal. It was somewhat comforting to have her, as a woman, around, especially one who knew how to cook and clean and wasn't lost for a year in the wilderness, fighting battles and lighting beacons and sitting in trees.
"How does this look?" She modeled her wedding dress in front of me, her gold hair pulled back. I raised an eyebrow from where I was hunched over my book, writing furiously about Bree.
"Oooh," I said with a smile. "That looks lovely on, Rosie." The dress didn't concern me. It was lacy and white; but Rosie really did look beautiful in it. It reminded me how un-beautiful I was; my straggly and hacked auburn hair not washed in thirteen months, and my clothes also not washed in… a longish time.
"I was thinking about colors for a dress for you," she said, with a glance at my plain white shirt, suspenders and pants (Frodo's, in fact) and unkempt hair.
"Green," I said instinctively, and she laughed.
"I imagined you saying that," she replied, shaking her head with laughter. "Now, let me go change before Sam sees and wrecks everything."
"I'm going outside," I said. No use telling Rosie why I was going.
"Aye, that's an idea, lass. You could use with a breath of fresh air after writing in this house for weeks. You don't need to write it all at once, and the…well, trip, could take a rather long time…"
"Your Sam would disagree," I teased, as she blushed, and I retreated to my room where I'd hidden my sword under my cloak. I changed into my Gondorian garb and tied the sword belt around my waist and placed my helmet on my head. Before anyone saw me, I charged outside into the fields and found a spot behind Bag End, on a hilltop where no one would find me.
Whatever made me want to practice sword fighting then, I didn't know for sure, but as I leapt in the air, twisting and twirling and chopping imaginary orcs, I realized that the rustling of the grass wasn't from the wind, it was from someone watching.
"Mandy!" It was Pippin, running gasping for breath. He too, was dressed as a soldier of Gondor.
Raising an eyebrow, I dashed my helmet to the ground, and Pippin shrugged, smiling sheepishly. "I guess we think alike…" he said, and then cried aloud, running to hide behind me.
I chuckled. "What is it, Pip?" The grasses rustled again and I held my sword before me as out of the fields tumbled two, three, four, no, six little hobbit children. All were holding long sticks and stood in front of us, smiling.
"We want Pippin to teach us," they said.
"Teach…teach you…what?" I asked warily.
"To fight! We want to be warriors…brave and strong warriors like you," one little girl said determinedly.
Pippin stepped out from behind me. "Oh," he said. "Ok, well…let's see…"
"First," I said, planting a foot, "you have to learn how to be strong, and at the same time, gentle…"
The children looked confused. "How," a boy asked, "Can you be strong and gentle? Warriors aren't kind; they're tough! And powerful, and fearless…"
"Because…because…" I looked to Pippin for help and my sword arm fell.
"Because to be a soldier, you must have balance," Pippin said, stepping forward and displaying his sword, standing tall and quickly dodging as a young girl swung her stick at him. "Opposites," he said, after his escapade was done. "Hmmm…let's see if I can explain it for you…"
I smiled as Pippin explained further. "Just having one isn't enough. You need both to stay balanced. It's the same with fighting. You can't have day without night to darken it, and you can't have earth without a sky above the horizon, summer without winter to cool it, and moon without sun…"
Looking at me, he added another, without changing his expression. "Light without Shadow. Watch…" he cut quickly around me and then crept slowly, stood tall and proud, and then cringed, dodging a swing of my sword.
He picked a volunteer, a little boy, named Ponto. Pippin showed him how to swing the word to defend and block, as well as attack the opponent. Soon the other children were inspired and they leapt to their feet to learn.
"Let me show you…" I said, showing a few simple moves, as they parried my attacks. "That's good," I said to one little girl. "Now you try."
She did very well, and giggled as a little boy playfully battled her with his stick. Soon, the children were mingled with their imaginary battles, running about our feet and yelling their glorious battle cries.
Pippin and I exchanged looks, smiling at one another.
"Remember in Moria? And Mordor?" I asked. "Come on, Peregrin Took," I continued with a grin, tossing my sword from hand to hand in complicated moves. "Let's see if you can live up to your title of Knight and Guard of the Citadel."
"And you," Pippin said. "Adamanta, have stolen that title. May the best fighter win!" He and I began a series of dangerous attacks and parries, leaping in the air and using every bit of wit and strength to be able to keep the battle going. The children soon became our audience, completely mesmerized by our fighting abilities. I leapt atop a rock and jumped to the side as Pippin swiped at my feet, and I stabbed at air as he bent backwards and I twirled off to the other side. On and on we went, shouting congratulations to one another, until eventually we both lost balance, and exhausted, collapsed into the grass, giggling. Familiar pain shot through my side as my sword's blade brushed my wound.
I was somehow able to control my crying out enough to breathlessly call, "Well met," and tap swords with Pippin.
"Awww…" the kids said sadly, when Pippin announced it was time for them to go home.
"We'll fight again soon," he said, and they in high hopes rushed off with shouts and tapping of sticks. "Are you alright?" he asked in genuine worry as I groaned and fell to my knees, shaking my head. He knelt behind me and his hand found my wound, holding it gently. My head fell back onto his shoulder.
"I think I need another bandage for that," I said weakly. "I hadn't felt a thing for a week and now…it burns like a million of Mordor's fires."
Pippin nodded and aided me to my feet. "Come on, we'll fix you up. Rosie will, anyway."
Thinking of Rosie seeing me in this state made me groan again, and my stomach churned. For weeks Rosie tried to be a mother to me since I had none, and she didn't understand the thought of a hobbit, especially a girl, running off to parts unknown and fighting in battles and doing the sorts of things that regular hobbits just did not do. Like cutting my hair. She didn't believe me when I said I hadn't done it myself. Pippin supported my weight and helped me limp back to Bag End.
"Where…have… you…been?" Rosie asked, maintaining her good temper, although I could tell inside she was seething, and eyeing Pippin and I as though we had walked off a battlefield. Well, we had, sort of…
I decided it best not to explain that we were teaching the young hobbits how to swordfight and instead just limped inside. "Nothing," I said, attempting to brush by her, and trying to hold myself steady without revealing how much pain I was in. Rosie bent beside me swiftly, snatching my sword from its sheath.
"I'm beginning to lose patience with you. I've been kind, but this is too much. You call this nothing!"
I stuttered some excuse to her, but she dashed it to the floor, the metal hitting the tile with enough clatter to wake every orc from the dead. I wanted to find a way to lie, to escape, but I sank in my armchair instead, still holding my side and picking up my journal, but Rosie snatched it away from me. My hands, still clutching air, sank to my sides.
"You need to get your head out of the clouds and stop with this nonsense, this silly Guard of the City or noble soldier or whatever hero you're acting as. People are talking, Mandy, about you, about Pippin, about Merry and Sam and Frodo, but especially you."
I cast my eyes down. It wasn't my fault I was different than every other hobbit, just because fate had chosen Frodo to bear a Ring of Power. My wound gave a terrible throbbing pain, and I winced.
"You aren't off on an adventure anymore; you must get it stuck in your mind that it isn't normal to walk around like a knight, in pants…pants! Women do not wear pants, Mandy. They don't cut their hair to play fight with swords and roll in the dirt wrestling with boys. And they certainly know how to manage a house, doing the work that's needed, not sitting around, moping and writing books. You cannot bask in your memories or your dreams for much longer. Adamanta," her voice took on a gentler tone as she knelt to look me in the face. "Your life has changed much, this I know more than you might, for I have heard it from Sam. But you must settle down, leave the past where it lies, take on a life here in the Shire. You were once someone to be respected, a perfectly good hobbit, but that respect was lost when you ran off with Merry and Pippin to who-knows-where doing silly things that you oughtn't to. Living with men. Sleeping next to men. It isn't right. People think…it's just…indecent."
I was nearly crying with pain, forced to listen to Rosie scold me and bear my wound's pain silently. My spirit, something that I had learned to keep closed in as a child while I learned to be a normal young woman, was unlocked, and it burned now so fierce I couldn't imagine how to pen it back up. Settle down! How obnoxious.
"How I wish it could be that easy…Well that's fine," I said loudly, and began to limp away, but stopped. "You can all sleep sound tonight, without a damn care towards the hobbits who gave up everything to make it so!" I stalked to my room, and leaving a bewildered Pippin and Rosie behind.
Furiously I tore off my chain mail and uniform, kicking my helmet (and regretting it when my toes remained sore for weeks), and untying the bandages from my stomach. A deep, terrible slit opened up to greet me, something I had never seen before, and it made me want to retch. I'd never before known how terrible it really was. I cursed the orc who gave it to me, and cursed Pippin's clumsiness in battle.
After re-bandaging myself and getting dressed, I wrapped my Lórien cloak around my shoulders and looked at the brooch, the green and silver leaf that I left propped on the wardrobe. Pippin knocked softly and I ignored him as he sat next to me on the bed, putting his arm around my waist and resting his other hand on my side, gently holding my wound. His fingers made it tingle.
"She doesn't mean it," he said.
"How can she think she knows?" I asked tearfully. "It's not easy being who I am…who we are. We didn't belong there; it was too big for us, and now that we've been there, we're not accepted here, in the only place we can call home. How I wish…they could understand…it wasn't my choice…that there were no other women? That isn't the point…"
Pippin glanced towards the door as Rosie entered.
She sat on my other side. For a long time, she didn't say anything, and then there was a simple, "I heard what you told Pippin. I'm sorry I said what I did. You're right, I don't understand; I never can."
I stared at Rosie, tears streaming down my face, as she handed me my journal. I smiled, and she did too, and then we hugged. It was as I said, comforting to have another woman around. Her words still stung, but I supposed I could put them off for now.
"Come on, clean up," she said. "We're going to the Green Dragon tonight."
The Green Dragon was completely packed that night. I did not behave at all like the first night I went, completely depressed and refined, hidden from view, forgetting who I was in the dark corners I sat in with my friends. I took a bath, actually ran my fingers through my hair, and pranced the best I could about the place, in pants (not really to spite Rosie, but just because I needn't have forgotten myself) and holding a mug of ale.
Hobbits, especially Diamond, Estella, Lily and Poppy whispered but I didn't really care, twirling my scarf and leaping arm in arm with Pippin on tables, singing gloriously. When Frodo bent down and whispered to me, I glanced at him with utmost horror.
"Please, please, do it?" He asked with a smile.
I frowned, but stood up before the bar and cleared my throat. Well, Frodo wanted me to sing? I smiled a small smile, the words coming perfectly to my head. So I'd sing.
"Rolling waves of grass and sky tumble as we pass them by,
The sun, it winks and shines ahead, showing us the paths we tread
Gray mist flies above the moors leading to white marble doors
Into a hall we bravely wander and look out over blazing yonder
Not a smile leaves our grim lips, as soft hoof beats sound with cracks of whips
My page bursts into his sad song, which hurts too much to sing along
Tears now as underneath our feet our soldiers have their fate to meet
Dreams of green Shire and beaten bar, a long way off from home we are."
I finished the song and everyone in the pub roared for an encore, barmaids and men alike. Pippin, the only one to understand the song, clapped quietly, not really seeing anything but the memory. It was perfect, I thought, the perfect way to share my adventures aloud. Smiling broadly, I took a moment to think of a new song and began to sing it aloud.
My Story Lengthens, The Gamgee Family Lengthens, and Worry for Frodo Lengthens
"Strider," Sam said, looking around. "We need Strider!"
Merry and Pippin reached Frodo's side with Strider in tow. He picked up a knife from the ground as Frodo continued to cry in agony.
"He's been stabbed by a Morgul blade," Strider said grimly. "This is beyond my skill to heal. He needs elvish medicine." He picked Frodo up like a child and we followed, still hearing wraith shrieks in the distance. "Hurry!" He said, urging us along.
"We're six days from Rivendell!" Sam cried angrily to Strider. "He'll never make it!"
14 December 3019, of the Third Age
24 Foreyule 1419, Shire-Reckoning Time...
A few weeks after first singing in the Green Dragon, I put my pen down and looked around anxiously. Rosie was nowhere in sight, thank goodness; it meant I could continue to write. At any sign of her I would be forced to get on my feet and sprint for my room, throwing on a skirt before she saw I was wearing pants again...and not the dress and corset she'd given me. Though Rosie had sort of relaxed after the feud we'd had a few weeks earlier, the stress of preparing for the wedding began to get to her. She snapped constantly and lost patience whenever she caught me lounging around and "writing in those boy's clothes without the decency to wear a corset" and had one day brought me some new dresses. "I finished them just this evening," she said with a smile, and fitted a corset to me. I feigned a swoon and she smacked my arm jokingly, but really I did hate the thing. And the new dresses, brown, gold, and blue—just weren't the kind of thing I wanted. Dressing up and looking pretty didn't really matter anymore. Again, that fierce, stubborn spirit. So, she seeing as I wouldn't wear them, she seethed about me lazing around Bag End.
I did help her, I admit, with cooking and cleaning, but enough was enough and I needed to finish the section of my book about Weathertop before I forgot what I wanted to write, and I didn't want to waste precious space making notes. My dress was hemmed and ready for the wedding, made of a beautiful greenish material, and far too dainty for me, as I expected. Rosie was planning on doing my hair up in ribbons and lilies, which I didn't mind too much, save the fancies. It meant it wouldn't look funny down, cropped short. It was funny how completely astray the thirteen-month ordeal had led me. Rosie constantly made references of how I used to be—a typical hobbit lass; pretty, passive, soft-spoken, adventure-fearing, molded for a future that I didn't want. To find, marry, serve a husband and pop children till my dying day. It would have been mine, except I was saved.
She also wanted me to sing, especially since I was singing almost weekly at the Green Dragon for the hobbits there. The Gaffer and my companions loved to hear me sing, so that was arranged without me quite having a say. But, I was becoming famous for it, and "earning my respects" as Rosie had put it once. And I loved being loved, even though I wore pants. Even though the pretty, long, fancy-haired barmaids that were once friends of mine frowned on me. Rosie expected me to make friends with the girls my age, to have tea and bake and talk about fashions and who was marrying who. I'd forgotten that the girls I was once friends with at 12 were now off and marrying... then I tried not to laugh as I pictured Merry and Pippin in dresses talking to me about those sorts of things.
They were my friends, my "girls".
I ended the chapter with All shall fade…all shall fade, and stuffed my books under my pillows, and rushing outside to enjoy the Shire. I was surprised at how quickly I had overcome my sorrowful return. In only two months I felt completely restored, except when it was raining and I missed my dear friends who were so far from us.
Frodo was out, Sam was working in the garden, and Merry and Pippin had gone off wandering somewhere, so I sat on Bag End's front stair and basked in the glory of the Shire. I whistled a song, singing quietly. I had written quite a few songs in the past weeks, mostly about the journey we took and the sights we saw. Except that I remembered them now as though in a dream, not sure whether to believe I was really there.
Sitting there I began to sing, and watched the next few days pass the same way, feeling the familiar loneliness settle in as I glided about the Shire like in a trance, looking on my fellow comrades but feeling as though they couldn't see me. It was the feeling of sorrow I hadn't felt when I was happy to be home, but now I felt homesick for somewhere else. I stared out of windows and dreamed of lands far away from the green fields of the Shire…
"I can see these past years closing in upon me
I can feel emotion finally settling in around me
Whatever type of life I chose to lead
I did not know it would end like this
Memory is pain and the rush is confusion
A sickness cannot begin to describe
The longing I feel to forget
I wish I could go back forever
I rush into life as life once was
I run through fields like they would have me
But deep inside black shadows still stay
And though I try they will not fly far from here
This place is a daze of love and loss
Once that was cannot be found again
Standing strong is not an option when you're lost
And no hope remains for you
My life wonders how fast time can run
And without me realizing what it wants
It sends pictures and memories back to me
Wide open spaces and lands distant from where I am
Two people cannot become only one
In the case that person may just be me
They see me who I was and who they want me to be
I see the me that I became and now I long to stay."
30 April 3020, of the Third Age
9 Thrimidge 1420, Shire-Reckoning Time...
Sam interrupted my daydreams for the fifth day in a row. His wedding was tomorrow, 1 May, and I was helping roll out dough for bread with him and Rosie and the younger ones were supposed to be helping, but I didn't know where they were. Frodo was writing in Bilbo's book, and he had gotten along a lot farther than I had, since his story was less complicated. In five days I was still in the Council of Elrond, and Frodo was entering Lothlórien.
"All right," Rosie said after the endless dough had been put in ovens. "I think we're finally done."
"Thank goodness!" Sam laughed and looked around at the kitchen longingly, picked up a long list and read it off. "Decorations…food…clothes…arrangements…invitations…all done. At last." He smiled, embraced Rosie, kissed her, and jogged to where Frodo was writing furiously at his desk. "Mr. Frodo?" He asked.
Frodo looked up for a second. "Yes, Sam?"
"We're going to the Green Dragon. Do you want to come?"
"No…no…" Frodo said. "I've got to finish this."
Sam bristled under his lips and walked out. As he went I heard parts of his sentence to Rosie, who followed hastily. "…Just isn't the same today nor any other day…"
"Rosie!" I called, and she turned around. "I'm going to stay and write!"
She called something, but whether she agreed to it or not I didn't care. I shut Bag End's door, settling by the window and letting my pen scratch over the paper. In a short hour I traveled through the heavy snows of Caradhras and down again, all the way to the Gates of Moria where Gandalf was having trouble opening them. Remembering it made me laugh, thinking of Gandalf's stubborn irritation and our boredom as we waited.
"Don't disturb the water." Aragorn, Strider, whatever his name was, I missed him so much. I hoped and hoped that it wouldn't be long till I saw him again. Shutting the book, I wandered to Frodo, my hands in the pockets of my (his) pants, and stood next to him. He sat bent over his book, his dark hair in his eyes, his gruesome scars mostly healed but still visible, as were the scars of us all. I put my hand on his shoulder and read over it as he wrote.
"Hello," Frodo said, abandoning his book for a moment to look me in the eye. Seeing my face as I read, his bright smile faded. "What is it? What's wrong?"
"How I wish…" I said, and had to stop and think about just how to say what I wanted to say. "I just want to go back, Frodo, back to everything I knew. It just can never be the same, and I fear that we'll never be able to go home."
Frodo's face was sorrowful and he held me for an instant. The faraway look in his eyes was troubling as he spoke. "How do you pick up the pieces of an old life? How do you go on, when in your heart you begin to understand, there is no going back? There are some things that time cannot mend. Some hurts go too deep."
1 May 3020, of the Third Age
10 Thrimidge 1420, Shire-Reckoning Time...
The Anniversary of King Elessar's Coronation
The next morning it was sunny again, and I awoke alone, sitting and writing before the wedding. Rosie could scold me for getting ink stains on my hands but I didn't care. The fear and feeling of loss had fled and for that day, I would be able to return to joy and feel glad for Sam and Rosie. In an hour, I was dressed and sitting in a chair as Rosie did my hair and chatted with other lasses, who looked on me like some kind of strange being. I was silent, feeling awkward, and made faces as Rosie let down a few dark curls around my face and worked yellow and white flowers in. It was painful work, and I told her so.
"Beauty costs pain," she said, and I cried aloud, clutching my head as she pulled at it. "Now if your hair wasn't so short!"
"That's not my doing," I growled.
I was the only lass in green. The other girls—Diamond, Lily, Estella, and Poppy, whispered among themselves, their long hair flowed in perfect ringlets. They were beautiful, I was not. I winced as Rosie pulled again and hid my dirty fingernails from her. It wasn't my fault she'd asked me to weed the garden the morning of the wedding. I eyed the other girls' flowing gowns, their yellows and pinks and blues, and dared them to so much as glance at me wrong. They did. Luckily, Rosie gave me a light push out of the chair, and I sighed with relief.
"There," she said, allowing me to stand at last and looking me up and down. "Lovely. Now go…"
Merry and Pippin met me outside of Bag End. "Finally," Merry laughed. "Sort of reminds me of Bilbo's party, doesn't it?"
My smile faded. There would be no more parties for Bilbo. "I guess so." I tried putting my hands in my pockets but—alas! I had none.
"You look nice, by the way," Merry added.
He took my arm and Pippin trotted behind, looking lost. We stood with the others as Rosie and Sam stood above on a platform with the children, and flower petals blew in the breeze. When Sam kissed Rosie, Pippin grimaced, Merry laughed, and I clapped, smiling broadly with Frodo. Sam looked down at us and winked, which meant I was supposed to come up and sing. I did so, singing a song I'd made up a week ago, just for Sam and Rosie. I couldn't help but smirk down at the other girls who couldn't sing like I could, and who talked about me amongst themselves because of my odd habits and adventures.
After the applause, I stepped back into the crowd and Rosie tossed her bouquet, which I reached for, though it sort of landed in Pippin's arms without him really meaning it to. I shoved my way between him and Diamond, who gave me a glare because she really wanted that bouquet. I didn't care. I was closer to it, anyway. I had to laugh for Pippin, though, who looked at it with a frightened sort of face, and then shook it off as he looked at me with a smile and shrugged.