2. Decisions

Sam could almost hear his master's footsteps as the older hobbit strode towards the front door. Frodo's head was erect, his shoulders held stiffly back, and Sam could tell by the deliberate sound of his breathing that he was still furious.

A rather surprised hobbit in a work coat noticed the pair just as Frodo pulled, or rather jerked open the front door. "Are y' leavin' us, Mr Baggins?" he asked.

"I haven't decided yet," Frodo answered shortly and exited the smial, giving the door a decided thump as he pulled it shut behind him.

"Snakes an' adders," exclaimed Sam, taking a step back. He turned to the other hobbit. "Not that I blame him. D'you work here?"

"Yessir," the hobbit answered.

Sam flushed. "Now, now. There ain't no call for that," he said hastily. "It's just as I don't know if'n we'll still be here t'night, but y'might save them rooms just in case. I've got to go find Mr Frodo."

"Aye, sir," the bewildered hobbit answered as Sam dashed out of the door.

The night was as dark as pitch and Sam, unfamiliar with the terrain, stumbled down the path. "Mr Frodo?" he called anxiously. There was no answer. Sam stood silent for a moment, trying to hear any sound his master might make. He heard only the wind, rushing through the trees.

"Mr Frodo?" he called again. The rustle of leaves seemed to mock him. "Oh, please, sir," he mumbled, "Don't you a-gone back t' that grave." He stood for a moment full of indecision, and then began to make his way to the top of the smial in hopes that he would be able to see something from the hilltop.

"Per'aps he's got th' Lady's star-glass out," he mumbled as he climbed. "He does hate th' dark so, an' rightly so. Though there's plenty o' stars out t'night." He threw a look up at the sky as he spoke. The midnight blue of the heavens was brilliantly studded with the diamond-like lights. They shimmered and twinkled and appeared to wink saucily at the gardener. He gazed at them indignantly. "An' just where were you when we needed you so last Rethe?" he demanded. The stars gave no answer. Sam shook his head and hurried up the hill. "Ninnyhammer," he muttered to himself, "They were right there where they belong, o' course. We just couldn't see 'em for all that ash an' smoke." He addressed the stars again. "Wisht as you would-a come out so as Mr Frodo could of seen you. He always seems that much better after lookin' at th' stars. I think as they give him hope, somehow, sometimes."

"Yes, it certainly would have been nice to see them," Frodo's voice answered from the grass only a few feet ahead. Sam nearly jumped out of his skin. "Although," the voice went on, "I seem to recall you telling me about a star that you saw in- in the black land."

"Mr Frodo, don't do that to me," protested the little gardener. "You 'bout scared me t' death!" He hurried over to his friend, who sat up from among the weeds where he'd been lying.

"I'm sorry, Sam," he smiled. "I wasn't trying to frighten you."

"I know," Sam answered, plopping down next to him, "I just weren't expectin' a voice t' come up from th' ground, like. What are you doin', sir?"

"Sir?" Frodo retorted incredulously.

Sam rolled his eyes, "Mr Frodo, you are never goin' t' change th' way I speak!"

"Well it won't be for want of trying," Frodo muttered, but Sam could hear a hint of a smile in his master's voice and it warmed his heart.

"What were you doin', Mr Frodo?" he queried.

Frodo stretched. "I was watching the stars, just as you suggested."

"Me?"

"Yes, you," Frodo retorted. "I could hear you all the way up the hill."

Sam blushed and was glad of the darkness, for then Frodo wouldn't see it.

"You were right about them giving hope," Frodo went on softly, "but they also help clear one's head immensely. It's so quiet up here." He lay back down and Sam followed suit. The rage he'd felt against the Bracegirdles' cruel attack still boiled inside of him, but he had found Frodo and his master appeared to be calming down. Slowly Sam's own ire cooled. Thoughts of a lone star in a forsaken land sprang unbidden to his mind. The stars overhead blurred and vanished as the gardener silently wept for all that had happened and for the beauty that was slowly being restored. Frodo lay silent beside him, fingering the white jewel that Queen Arwen had given him. After some time he began to speak.

"I will stay here," he began, almost as if to himself. "It makes no sense for me to leave only to come back again."

"Aye, sir," agreed Sam.

"However, I want you to go home."

Startled, the gardener sat up and stared at his friend. "Why?" he managed to force out.

"For several reasons," Frodo answered, also sitting up, "but the main reason is because I won't have them insulting you all week,"

"But I don't mind that, sir, truly," protested Sam, "I'd ruther stay here with you and go home at the same time, like we planned."

"That was before this matter of the will came up," Frodo said. "Now I don't know how long I will be here. I hope that it's only a week, as Master Bracegirdle suggested, but even this little trip was too long to separate you and Rose in my opinion. I don't want you to stay here any longer than necessary without her."

Sam snorted. "I think Rosie'd understand, and what 'bout your own obligations?"

"I'll send them a letter explaining what's happening," Frodo answered decisively. "I'm quite sure that they can cope without me for a week."

Sam gave his master a look. "I never heard o' no mayor as left his post for a week t' look at property."

"Deputy mayor," came the cool reply, adding, "Perhaps not, however, our dear Will has taken off before for various reasons, the most recent of which was to attend his daughter's wedding last year."

"Two years," Sam automatically corrected.

Frodo paused for a moment.

"You're right," he said, and then sighed. "How time passes. Sometimes it seems as if the quest was three ages ago. And then other times..." his voice trailed away.

"Aye," Sam agreed.

Frodo's voice was low. "I wanted to kill them. I haven't felt a rage like that since-since...not at anyone."

Sam looked at his master, his dearest friend, but didn't know what to say. They were both silent for a while. The stars grew brighter overhead and the night became deep. Out of the blue Frodo spoke.

"I'd like you to take the book home."

At this Sam turned to stare at his master. The older hobbit gazed out at the night, never looking at his friend. Finally Sam found his tongue.

"Me?"

"Yes."

"Mr. Bilbo's book?"

"If you would." Frodo's tone was cautious.

"Me?"

Frodo chuckled, but it was a hollow sound -no joy. "Just say no if you don't want to."

"It's not as I don't want to," Sam mumbled, "I'd just...I wouldn't trust it with me, sir," his voice fell even lower. "I might forget it somewhere, or lose it t' thieves. Not exac'ly th' most trustworthy."

Frodo's tone was one of pride, admonition, and sincerity. "I can't think of another person in Middle-Earth whom I would rather trust it with than you," he said seriously, causing the gardener to simultaneously blush at the praise and hang his head in shame, for when it came to this book he felt unworthy of any kind of trust. Deep inside he still felt that he had lost any 'worthiness' of anyone's trust in a treacherous mountain pass when he'd abandoned his dear master.

"I'd still ruther not," he mumbled.

He felt a hand rubbing his back and slowly lifted his head to see Frodo gazing at him with compassion. "It's fine, Sam," he murmured, trying to reassure his friend. "You needn't worry about it. If you don't want to I can certainly keep it with me."

Sam ducked again, ashamed to ruin Frodo's plan, but he did not trust himself to take care of something so precious to his dearest friend. "I'm right sorry t' spoil your plan, Mr Frodo, but-"

"Don't worry about it, Sam," Frodo was shaking his head. "I'll figure something else out." He was silent for a few minutes, thinking, then said "If I take it along with me every day then they won't be able to try and read it. It would be safe enough, I think...and I might even be able to get some writing done. I certainly couldn't at that inn last night."

"That place were a regular nightmare, an' no mistake," Sam declared hotly. "Y'd think as grown hobbits'd know enough t' keep quiet when some'un asks 'em."

"Well, that's never been enough to stop Merry and Pip," Frodo grinned.

Sam had to grin at this as well. "No, sir, that it hasn't," he agreed. A thought crossed his mind and he gave Frodo a sideways glance. "Are y' sure y' don't need a lit'le help with this lot? Y'might need someone t' watch your back."

Frodo was still grinning. "I can watch my own back, thank you very much."

Sam gave him a sceptical look. "Oh?"

"You insult me, Sam," Frodo sounded mock-indignant. "I most certainly can, at least as far as guarding my own privacy. That is," he added more cautiously, "if you didn't pack my mail shirt."

Sam gave him a funny look. "What?"

"My mithril coat," Frodo explained. "You didn't pack it, did you?"

"No sir," Sam answered slowly, wondering what his master was talking about now.

"Oh good, that's a relief," Frodo sighed. "I was afraid that I might have to wear that every day." He fell silent. Sam sat silently too, wondering if his master had just gone mad.

"To hide it," Frodo clarified."

"Alright..." they were quiet again

"Because I would have to guard my privacy."

"Aye."

Silence.

"That was a joke, Sam."

"Oh." Seems as Mr Frodo lost his sense o' humour somewheres.

"Apparently it was a rather terrible one, too."

"Yes sir," Sam grinned.

Frodo sounded perturbed, but Sam could hear a smile lurking underneath. "Well, you tell one then."

Sam grinned again, but this time it was in triumph. "Well..." he drawled, "I know this one 'bout a stubborn old hobbit who wouldn' go t' bed."

Frodo sounded miffed. "I think I've heard that one before, thank you."

"It's true as 'taters though."

"That doesn't make it any funnier."

"An' how d' you know it ain't 'bout a fellow thet fell asleep in his 'taters?" Sam was indignant.

"In them? How would anyone fall asleep in potatoes?"

Sam began grinning again. "I'm sure as I don't know, sir, but I saw it."

"Where?" Frodo was intrigued.

"At th' fun'ral feast earlier t'day. There was a chap there as in-joyed his food, if'n y' take my meaning."

"I believe I do," Frodo chuckled.

"Well, this chap had four bowls full o' them lovely mashed 'taters this aft'ernoon, an' some migh'ty big helpin's o' everthin' else, too. An' so he were talkin' along with his neighbour, when all at oncet th' food musta hit him, 'cause he yawned oncet an' then jus' toppled right over int' his bowl, snorin' like a hog."

Frodo laughed at that. "Was he all right?" he snickered.

"Yes, sir, far as I know," Sam laughed. "But if'n he weren't a sight when they pulled him out! He had 'taters in his ears an' his hair, an' when they were cleanin' him it looked like they was shavin' off some strange hobbit beard."

"No!"

"Aye, it did. But thet ain't th' bes' part."

"What then?" Frodo demanded between his snickers.

"Well sir, he had a faunt with him, barely mor'en two, or I'm no judge o' hobbit-age. Anyways, he picks up this lit'le lass an' she smells the 'taters right away, so she," Sam was laughing so hard that he could barely finish, "she sticks out her lit'le pink tongue an' starts lickin' him like, like she were a, a lit'le curly-haired cat!"

The pair roared with laughter.

"Was he surprised?" Frodo gasped out.

"Aye! His eyes! They were as big as," Sam shrugged, "as big an' round as... dinnerplates! No other word for 'em. An' he, he musta jumped a foot!"

"An' jus' what d'you think you're doin' on th' hill this time o' night?"

The two hobbits nearly leaped out of their own skin as the voice boomed behind them. Guiltily they turned to see a sturdy looking figure with a lantern glaring down at them. Sam recognised him as the hobbit who had been at the door earlier and grinned sheepishly.

"Jus' tellin' a joke or two," he answered.

"Well," the burly hobbit squinted at them. "Mr Frodo, is it? An' Mr Samwise? Beggin' your pardon, sirs, but mebbe y' ought t' go t' bed. I can show y' where it's at."

Frodo sheepishly rose to his feet, but then gave a hiss of pain. "Oh, stars, my side," he gasped. Sam was on his feet in an instant, but Frodo chuckled again. "Sam?" he murmured, "Will you help an old hobbit to bed?"

"Course I will, sir," Sam grinned, "an' if'n y'like, we can argue more in the morning."

"Oh, I don't think so," Frodo smiled, "You see, I have Rose on my side. If you leave your new bride I fancy that she'll have both of our heads."

"Now, now, Mr Frodo, that ain't fair, draggin' poor Rosie in here like that," Sam grumbled good-naturedly.

Frodo grinned as the trio started down the hill. "Perhaps not," he conceded, "but when it comes to your happiness -and the health of us both- I think it's worth the price."

-o-o-o-

Rethe - hobbit for March