4. A Final Word
Belle was still pondering that question as she prepared for bed that night. How much of their plans had Frodo overheard? Did he know what they were up to? Was he just toying with them? She clearly remembered Largo saying, "Try to warm him up, will you? He's as stiff as an icicle." She tried to think back through yesterday's conversations as she washed her face and brushed her hair. Had she said anything that Frodo could find incriminating? Had Largo slipped and made any comments about their plan? She carefully laid out her nightgown and began undressing. She was half-tempted to try to get Frodo to tell her if he had heard anything else, but what in Middle-Earth would she say if he asked what she was so worried about? Well, I was afraid that you might have overheard that Largo and I are planning to make you marry me... Oh, it was just too ridiculous!
As she removed her skirt a piece of paper dropped to the floor, landing with a heavy-sounding thup. Surprised, she picked it up and examined it. Oh, yes. This was the envelope that she had found on the dining room table earlier. Printed in a neat, unadorned hand were the words, To Miss Bracegirdle. She had discovered it around the time that Hilda Brandybuck and her brood had been leaving. She had tucked it into her skirt band to read later and had promptly forgotten about it. Well, better late than never, she thought. She opened it and began to read.
Dear Miss Bracegirdle, it began
Seeing as Mr Frodo won't let me stay here with him, and since I don't know how much you would listen if'n I spoke with you I am writing this letter so as in case something happens you will know how to take care of him.
She stopped and looked at the envelope again and reread the first line, then turned the page over and stared incredulously at the signature. S. Gamgee. This was from Frodo's servant? She began again.
Dear Miss Bracegirdle
Seeing as Mr Frodo won't let me stay here with him, and since I don't know how much you would listen if'n I spoke with you I am writing this letter so as in case something happens you will know how to take care of him. See, he won't tell you because he don't like folks to know, but he's got a delicate stomach and he can't eat as much as you and me. I think as you saw this yesterday at the dinner after the burial, and at first breakfast this morning. I saw you fretting about that. Miss, let me tell you, he won't stand for any of that. I were arguing with him because he were eating even less than usual, and you saw the results of that. He don't like folk to know when he don't feel well, and he will try to make you think he's fine.
He might be off for several days, mostly because he's mourning your aunt. Please don't plague him about eating, and don't fix anything terribly rich, especially since he'll be bouncing around on that pony of his all day. It just might come back to haunt him, if'n you take my meaning.
Miss, let me tell you that he's a stubborn Baggins, bless him, and he will do his level best to be polite and keep you from knowing if'n he's ill. Don't press him or mother him, but if'n he says as he's not hungry he probably isn't feeling well. Just let him go to bed and he'll be better in the morning. You might bring him some toast and soup, and especially cold water, but naught more than that.
Don't bother him when he's taking a bath. He don't like it.
If'n he gets a headache I've found as lavender water will do wonders, especially if'n it's soaked into a handkerchief and laid over his eyes, but like as not he'd take care of that hisself.
I think that covers everything. Please take care of my master. He told me not to worry about him, but I can't help it. He's like that to me. Watch out for him, and I'll be right grateful.
Your servant,
Samwise Gamgee
Postscript
Please don't let anyone know as I've told you these things, and especially not Mr Frodo. If'n he thought folks were gossiping about him he'd be right furious. Speaking from experience he'll be a sight more co-operative with you if'n he don't know as you've been warned aforehand.
S. Gamgee
Belle read the letter again. Frodo had said that he wasn't that hungry, and had complained of a headache, but then he had come to the table and eaten...less than a plateful...and he had looked ill when he first saw the soup...and there was his moodiness...she frowned down at the well-meaning letter. Perhaps there was something in the advice to let him go to bed, but that it should come from a servant? That a gardener would presume to offer advice on caring for his master? The idea of taking suggestions from the odious creature grated on Belle. And what could he possibly presume to know about the health or the temperament of Frodo Baggins? Disgusted with even the idea of taking the servant's advice she threw the letter onto the hearth and watched it burn with a small measure of satisfaction. Then she finished her preparations for bed and snuggled down, carefully planning tomorrow's supper. Let's see, a fine mushroom soup to start, and then perhaps a chicken of some sort... Slowly she drifted off.