'A Gardener's Tale'

[Elentari]

A Gardener's Tale
by Elentari Greenwood

Chapter One

Through The Garden Gate



It was nearing the end of another remarkable autumn day in that month of Halimath, Shire Reckoning 1482. Bushel baskets of fragrant, red-cheeked apples had been gathered from the heavy-laden branches of trees all over the Shire. Leafy vines were draped with cascading clusters of deep burgundy grapes. The slanting rays of the warm sun glanced across ripening fields of grain, and still-green lawns; small hobbit children rejoiced in tumbling down the lush, green slopes of the hills, and jumping delightedly into mounds of softly scrunching multi-colored leaves. In the Party Field, the sunshine bathed the bright yellow leaves of the majestic Mallorn tree, turning them to fluttering drops of liquid gold. Along the road towards Bywater, columns of huge, old Sugar Maple trees that lined either side of the road provided travelers with a breathtaking, blazing orange canopy. Folks who came 'round to the Ivy Bush Inn of an evening would speculate as to how fine the barley malt was going to be, and what a marvelous store of "Old Winyards" would be put up that year.
Away up in Hobbiton, as the westering sun cast it's slanting light upon that hidden corner of Middle Earth, a lone figure climbed the path up the Hill to Bag End, a cloth-covered basket carried with the braided handle looped over a slender arm. The hobbit-lass's golden curls bounced merrily as she strode up to the garden gate, unlatching it and passing through. The gate clicked quietly closed behind her. Looking purposefully around the garden, she spied a small still figure propped against the trunk of a gnarled apple tree. Smiling fondly, she made her way over to the tree, and stood for a moment looking down upon the slumbering form of her father, Samwise Gamgee, Master Gardener and former seven-times Mayor of Michel Delving, now retired. There was a short ladder leaning against the trunk of the tree upon which he rested, and a large, two-handled basket filled with red apples on the ground beside him. With the smile still curving her lips, she shook her head slightly, making the golden curls dance again. Gently she called, "Hallo, dad; thought I'd find you here!". A slight change came over the sleeping countenance, and the right eye peeped open a bit. "Come now, dad, it'll be evenin' soon. You'll be gettin' stiff as a board sittin' on the ground like that." With that, both eyes opened up, and a cheerful smile lit the leathery face, which was creased with fine lines like a winter apple.
"Well, Ruby my girl, aren't you a pretty sight to wake up to!", said Sam. Then sniffing appreciatively, he noticed the basket his daughter carried. "And what have you brought your old dad, my dear?", he said rather knowingly. "I'll bet you could guess", said Ruby laughingly, as she lifted the corner of the cloth that covered the basket. The tantalizing aroma of butter-browned mushrooms wafted from within. "What a dear girl you are, Ruby", Sam said fondly, struggling a little to get to his feet. Ruby dropped the cloth back in place and quickly put out her hand to steady him as he rose. "Let's go inside, dad, and I'll dish you up some." Ruby turned to go, as Sam bent to pick up the basket of blushing red apples. Seeming surprisingly strong for his advanced age, he hefted the basket, then followed after his daughter as they went down the garden path, and passed through the gate.

[Elentari]

Chapter Two

Of Apples and Sweet Dreams



Upon entering Bag-End, Sam set the basket of apples down in a corner of the porch and, turning, pushed the round, green door firmly closed. Then , with shuffling steps, he bustled down the hall to the kitchen. Taking a loaf of bread and half of a small round cheese from the larder Sam set them out on the table. Placing her basket on the wide windowsill, Ruby uncovered it and drew out a large bowl of still-steaming mushrooms. She set the bowl on the table, alongside the bread and cheese. Sam brought plates and cutlery from the sideboard, and motioned his daughter to a chair. "So how is young Farmer Maggot today, my dear?" Sam inquired, sniffing the scent of the mushrooms appreciatively. "Toby's just fine, dad" Ruby assured her father. She had married Tobias, the grandson of Old Farmer Maggot, in the spring of last year and, together with the rest of the current Maggot clan, they lived and worked on the old farmstead. The couple was expecting their first child next spring.
"And how are Robin and Tolman getting on? Behavin' themselves proper, I hope?" added Sam questioningly. His two youngest sons had moved in with their sister and her husband, and were working on the farm. "Oh, they're doin' their share, dad, and no mistake", said their sister fondly. Bringing over the heated kettle, she poured the boiling water into a plump, brown teapot which sat on the table, then returned the kettle to it's hook over the hearth. Ruby sat in a chair across the table from Sam. "You weren't working out in the garden all day, were you dad?", Ruby asked suspiciously. "No, no, just doing a bit of this and a bit of that is all" replied Sam rather evasively. "I wanted to pick some of those apples as were ready." Ruby smiled; "If you like, I'll take some down with me, and bring you a pie tomorrow." She was staying the night down the Hill at New Row, where her older brother, Bilbo, lived in what had been the Gaffer's rebuilt hole. While Sam and Rosie's children had scattered, like so many dandelion seeds in the wind, to all corners of the Shire, from Buckland to Undertowers, Bilbo had remained on the Hill. He had also, as had his namesake, remained a bachelor (up to the present, at any rate). Ruby had left her pony and cart there and climbed the Hill to stretch her legs a little. "I wouldn't mind it a bit!" Sam replied enthusiastically. Dishing out the mushrooms onto two plates he said, "Now let's attend to these beauties before they get cold!" They ate for a time with appreciative concentration. When the plates were wiped clean with the last of the bread, Sam retrieved two brown mugs from a small cupboard and placed them on the table. Ruby took up the teapot and filled the mugs with the steaming liquid. In silent agreement father and daughter carried their mugs of tea into the sitting room, and settled into deep cozy chairs, one on either side of the small oval hearthrug before the fire.
"Been feeling all right, dad?" asked Ruby solicitously. "Now, don't you go worritin' about your old dad", said Sam cajolingly in a fair, though unconcious, imitation of his own Gaffer. "If you're meanin' my little nap in the garden, why, I was just enjoyin' the sunshine a bit. After all, I am used to makin' my bed on the ground on occasion", he reminded her, "and in worse places than the lovely soft grass of the garden at Bag-End!" A thoughtful expression came over Sam's features just then, and his eyes seemed all at once focused on something beyond the confines of the cozy sitting room. Ruby felt all at once alone somehow, as if her father had suddenly disappeared from the room. he shivered involuntarily, and wrapped her hands tightly around her mug of tea for warmth. A few moments passed; then Sam's voice broke the silence in a soft voice that Ruby had to strain to hear.
" I was havin' a lovely dream out under that tree", said Sam. " I was walkin' under the golden trees of Lorien, and suddenly, there was the Lady", Sam continued in a voice touched with awe. "Dressed all in silver and white, she was. She smiled down at me, and put her hand on top of my head. And then she spoke to me..." Sam stopped speaking as his thoughts went back to his dream. He suddenly realized what he had not thought strange about the dream before now; the Lady and he had not spoken with words. Her voice had seemed to enter his mind, and Sam found he could answer the same way, and it was much easier so. "Well met again, little lover of trees", Galadriel had said. "Have you grown so quickly tired of your own garden, that you have come to walk in mine?" the Lady questioned gently. "Oh, no your Ladyship!", Sam quickly replied. "It's as lovely a place as you'd ever want to be in." "Then why have you returned here?" Galadriel persisted. " I don't rightly know myself", replied Sam. " I don't even reckon how you and I've come to be here, or how I'm talkin' to you now" Sam puzzled. " I recall you sailed away over the sea with Mr. Frodo a long time ago", he replied sadly. She smiled at him then, and said, "Our thoughts have a way of taking us where we wish to be, though that place be far beyond our reach", she said kindly. "Tell me what troubles you?"
"Well, your Ladyship," Sam ventured, "I've been plain lonely, and that's the truth. My Rosie passed on, you know" Sam told her quietly. She nodded gravely, eyes filled with sympathy. "I reckon I've been feeling sort of left behind, so to speak," he thought, rather insightfully. "And with my Rosie gone, you see, I can't help missin' Mr. Frodo too. Rosie was always a comfort; she just seemed to know when things were botherin' me" Sam told his dream Lady shyly. "And now you are here" said Galadriel thoughtfully. "Perhaps you desire to take another journey?" Sam looked up at Galadriel doubtfully. "I'm not a young hobbit by any means to go traveling as I once did." He hesitated ; " besides, where would I go? The Road's too long to travel to Gondor and visit Strider again" Sam continued sadly. "Only you can find what you seek; I can give only this in counsel," Galadriel told him. "All you need do is make a beginning," she said gently. "The end will be what it will be." And with Galadriel's words still in his mind, he had come up out of the dream to find the sweet face of his youngest daughter gazing down at him with love.
Sam came out of his reverie, and turned his thoughts back to his beloved Ruby where she sat across from him, a searching expression on her lovely face. Sam sighed and said, "Well, my girl, that was quite a dream and no mistake!" Ruby eyed her father anxiously. "Why don't you come down with me to Bilbo's?" she invited. "We can all visit together in the kitchen while I get to work on those apple pies", Ruby cajoled. Sam replied, "it's surely a tempting offer, but I've a mind to take myself off for a ha'pint at the Ivy Bush, and catch up on the latest doings of the Four Farthings." "The latest gossip, you mean!" Ruby said; but she grinned. "That sounds just the ticket, dad. You go on ahead then. I'll tidy up here and then fill my basket with them apples and go on down to New Row. You'll have a fresh apple pie for your breakfast tomorrow", she promised. Ruby shooed Sam out of the house amid protests, saying she'd do the clearing up tonight, and that was that! Then she stood in the open doorway for awhile, and watched Sam's progress as he made his way down the Road.

[Elentari]

Chapter Three

The Ivy Bush



The trade was brisk inside the Ivy Bush that evening. With the fine weather holding sway, many folk were glad to be out for a pint and companionship, taking advantage of this blessed time, before the winter weather set in.To one side of the main room, near the green door that led to the kitchen, stretched the worn oak counter; behind it on the wall were several shelves; the lower held mugs and glasses, while bottles filled with rich-colored contents were lined up neatly along the top-most shelf. On the other side of the counter were lined up (not so neatly) a half-dozen or so local hobbits holding forth with pints in their hands, most being deep in conversation amongst themselves.
Two fellows at the far end of the counter were holding a quiet conversation with Mr. Hardbottle, the innkeeper, a rather large, round hobbit, with a mass of salt and pepper curls upon his head. The innkeeper nodded towards a group of four older fellows who were gathered close to the blazing hearth on the other side of the common room.
"No, you just can't find a dearer old Gaffer in all of the Shire than our own Master Samwise,"said Mr. Hardbottle fondly, indicating with another slow nod one member of the group by the fire.
"Why, o' course,"said one of the hobbits. "We've known of 'im away down in the Southfarthing for many a year."
"If a body doesn't know that feller, then he doesn't come from the Shire!" the second hobbit emphatically replied.
"Naturally, 'e doesn't get around all over the way he did for many a year," the Innkeeper added. "A couple of his sons have taken up the name 'Gardener', though. They go about makin' sure everything's looked after proper, and that's as it should be. And his family keeps a close eye on 'im too, since Mistress Rose passed on." The hobbit at the end of the bar sipped his pint slowly.
"That's a sad thing, indeed, her passin'," he said sadly.
"Aye, that's the truth!" exclaimed Mr. Hardbottle. "e doesn't say too much about 'imself as a rule, but it's taken 'im hard, it has."
Over near the fire, the group of hobbits, which did, indeed, include Sam Gamgee, were drawn up close together in a little semi-circle in front of the merrily dancing flames. Their conversation ran to common things: which trees had especially lovely fruit this year, who among them had gained a new grandbaby this season, and so on. As the hobbits' voices droned on, like the pleasant humming of bees in an orchard, Sam gradually fell silent,, gazing into the fire with eyes that saw things beyond the cheerful, flickering flames.He saw his own children as they were when small, playing about the garden; he saw himself sitting in a chair at the kitchen table, little Elanor on his lap, and there was Rosie, setting a steaming bowl of stew in front of him, and patting his arm companionably.
A log popped and sparked in the hearth, and with a start Sam saw the vision shift; but this time the flames of the fire became one tiny flame in a lamp, and that lamp was resting on his bedside table. Sam himself was lying in bed, a plump bolster behind his brown, curly-haired head. He turned his face away from the flame, and there was Rosie beside him, tucked up snugly under the covers. Her small, work-worn hands were clasped together atop the coverlet. Sam reached out to cover her hands with one of his own, slightly larger and sun-browned in contrast.
"We have had a busy day, haven't we, Rosie my dear?" Sam said with a sigh. "Goodness knows, the children are more than happy to help with the chores; you must let the girls help you put up those beets and beans tomorrow" he chastised gently. "We must face the fact that we need to take things a little slower, I suppose," he continued whistfully. Sam paused and glanced over at the well-known face on the pillow next to his. Rose's eyes were closed, and the quilt rose and fell almost imperceptively with the regular rhythm of her breathing. "Why, I've talked you right to sleep, my dear," Sam said softly. At that, her eyelashes fluttered, and Rose opened her eyes then, turning to gaze fondly at her husband.
"Dear Sam," she said, a smile playing gently at the corners of her lips. "I'm just that worn out tonight; let's leave talk of beets and beans for the mornin', shan't we?"
"Of course, Rose dear; close your eyes now, and happy dreams my love," Sam replied as he patted the small hands once more. As Rosie's eyes drifted closed, she said softly,
"mind, Sam, that you put out the light."
Sam turned and extinguished the flame in the lamp on the bedside table, and lay back against the pillow in the velvet dark, a slight smile on his lips, and a warm spot in his heart.
Sam was awakened next morning, as he had been nearly every morning in the Shire, with sweet notes of birdsong, and a fresh-scented breeze coming in through the window that was always left open just a crack. He lay still for a few moments looking up at the ceiling, and thinking about the day ahead.
"Well, Sam, once begun's as well as done," he said to himself, and turned the covers back with a sigh. Sitting up, he turned his head to look upon the sleeping form of his wife. "Rosie, my dear, you just have a bit of a lie-in," he whispered. "I'll get the kettle on, and our breakfast ready." Sam climbed out of bed and got into his clothes as quietly as possible, then tip-toed out of the room, leaving the door slightly ajar.
In the kitchen, he got out a rasher of bacon from the pantry, and hummed softly and cheerfully to himself as he took down his favorite frying pan, and placed it on the stove. When he'd got the bacon started, he filled the kettle with water from the pitcher on the table, and hung it on the hook above the fire. Setting out the dishes,, cups and cutlery, he measured the tea into the familiar round, brown teapot. After turning the bacon, Sam got out two eggs and, cracking the shells, poured the contents gently into the pan.
When all was at last ready, Sam walked along the passage, and entered their bedroom. He crossed to Rose's side of the bed and called her gently, brushing back a few stray strands of hair from her face.
When their son, Bilbo, entered Bag End some hours later, he found a cold pot of tea on the kitchen table, and a frying pan full of congealed bacon and eggs. Puzzled, he proceeded down the hallway towards the back of the house.
"Ma?" he called tentatively; "you back here?" At the door to his parents' bedroom he paused; a faint breeze came from the partly-open door. Bilbo pushed it open and peered in.
Sam was still there, seated in an old rocking chair that was pulled up beside the bed. He was holding Rosie's hand, rocking silently.
"What is it, Dad?" Bilbo asked in a frightened voice. Then Sam looked up, and Bilbo caught his father's stricken expression. The son moved across the room to join his father; he rested a shaking hand on Sam's shoulder, and gave a gentle squeeze.
"Oh, dad," said Bilbo in a small voice, at a complete loss for words. Sam heard as from a distance his son's voice calling; "Dad......dad.....," and felt a more persistant hand on his shoulder. Sam came to himself then, and realized with a shock that he was no longer in his bedroom, but in front of the fire at the Ivy Bush. The hand gently nudging his shoulder was, in fact, that of his son, Bilbo, come to join his father in a pint before closing time. As the sounds of the common room came once again to his ears, Sam shook himself with an effort.
"Well son,I was wondering when you'd be along; have you got your pint yet? Pull up a chair, my dear boy. Have you brought your whistle along with you? I'm sure we'd all like a tune, eh?" Sam asked his companions. There were replies of assent and clapped hands. Bilbo reached into his vest pocket and drew out his wooden flute, and began to play a lively tune. Soon there was a much larger group near the hearth. Someone produced a fiddle and joined in the next song. One tune followed another, and it was more than an hour later when Bilbo drained his pint.
"Well, dad, we'd best be off for home, else Ruby'll come lookin' for us," said Bilbo with a mischevious glint in his eyes.
"You're right, my boy, it's late; and that's a fact about your sister!" Sam chuckled. Goodnights were said all around, and the Innkeeper stood looking out of the window and waving, as father and son started out on the road home.

[Elentari]

CHAPTER FOUR

A TIMELY CELEBRATION



All the next day, Sam moved doggedly from one task to another; cleaning and straightening, sweeping and polishing. After elevenses, he took up a gathering basket and went out to the garden. Using the hand clippers, Sam snipped some late-season blooms from his beloved rose bushes; some sunny yellow, and others white as fluffy clouds. Thinking they would make a lovely centerpiece for the table tonight, Sam took the blooms inside to the kitchen sink. Rummaging deep inside the pantry cupboard, he discovered a pretty vase of cobalt blue glass. In his mind's eye, Sam could remember seeing it in the center of the round wooden table many times over the years, always filled with fresh blooms; bright-eyed daisies, cheerful-faced pansies, nodding daffodils, or some other wild flowers, arranged in colorful profusion. Filling the vase with clear, fresh water, Sam arranged the delicate flowers in the vessel, cheerfully singing a bit of nonsense to himself as he worked. When finished, he placed the arrangement in the center of the table and stood back, eyeing it critically.
"Yes, that's just the thing I wanted," Sam said with satisfaction.
Next, Sam moved over to where the old kitchen stove stood, warm and homey, and awash with the heady scents of woodsmoke and roasting meat. Sam bent to open the door and check on the progress of supper, then went to the counter to put the finishing touches on a delightful-smelling apple cake. He sprinkled the cake with a generous dusting of freshly-ground cinnamon, then covered it with a clean, white tea-towel, to keep until after supper. Heaving a contented sigh, Sam passed through to the sitting room and sank gratefully into his favorite chair, deep and soft, to rest and wait.
Later, as the sun began to cast long, late afternoon shadows on Hobbiton, Sam emerged from his bedroom, having washed hands and face, and put on a clean tunic. As he moved along the hall, there came a pull on the front door-bell, which Sam had been expecting. Lifting the latch, Sam opened the large, round door with an expectant smile. It was mirrored in the cheeful round faces looking back at him from the doorstep.
"Things are smelling wonderful in here!" announced Pippin enthusiastically, bright eyes sparkling. There he stood, a head above Sam, who had to look up at both Pippin, and Merry who was standing beside him. Merry grinned tolerantly.
"That's getting to the point, Pip," he chuckled. Putting out his hand, Merry clapped a delighted Sam on the shoulder.
"Welcome, welcome!" Sam exclaimed warmly, stepping back from the door and motioning the two friends inside.
They ducked their heads a bit as they entered the doorway, then straightened and looked around them with familiar eyes. Sam pushed the door firmly closed behind them, then bid Merry and Pippin to remove their grey cloaks, which he hung carefully on pegs near the door. Leading the way, Sam preceeded his guests down the hall towards the kitchen.
"Homey as ever," Pippin pronounced with a happy sigh, though Merry privately thought there was an air, however slight, of distance, maybe, about the place, as if everything belonged to another, older time, much like a museum.
Arriving in the kitchen, Sam announced to his guests,
"Sit yourselves down then;everything's ready." Sam bustled about with purpose, setting the meat dish on the table, along with a warm loaf of brown bread, fresh creamy butter in a cold crockery dish, and a huge platter mounded high with succulent, steaming mushrooms. This was accompanied by a plate of freshly grilled tomatoes and a steaming pot of tea, with sugar and cream nearby. Sam sat down across from his guests, and the hobbits set to with relish. For a long while the house was quiet but for the sounds of silverware clicking and s****ing on plates. At last, Pippin washed down his last mouthful with the dregs of tea remaining in his mug and gave a satisfied sigh.
"You certainly do set a fine table, Sam," he asserted fondly.
"I, er...imagine there's something sweet to follow?" questioned Merry hopefully.
"Surely! seeing as how this is a celebration" Sam replied, his cheeful voice belying the thoughtful expression on his face. "Why don't you both relax a bit in the sitting room, while I brew us a fresh pot of tea to go with. Besides, I've something to show you I think will be of interest, if you don't mind my saying."
"Certainly, Sam!" Merry replied with an eager smile. Both guests pushed their chairs back from the table and rose to their feet. "We'll just go on through, and you come along when you're ready." Merry turned and moved off after Pippin into the room beyond.
After putting the tea to brew in a potful of fresh hot water, Sam joined his company in the sitting room, where he found them doing just that, in the soft, comfy chairs before the fire, which was blazing cozily in the hearth.
"As I said, I've something to show you; rather fitting, considering the occasion," Sam called over his shoulder. Sinking to his knees in front of an old wooden chest which resided under the window facing the garden, he lifted the lid and reached inside. Rising to his feet and straightening, Sam turned towards the companions, an eager smile lighting his face. They observed in Sam's hands a large book with a red leather cover. Their eyes brightened as they realized Sam held Bilbo's book containing their adventures of so many years ago. "I've kept it safe and sound these many years. Now I think it's time you both took another gander at it."
Merry took into his hands the book which Sam held out to him, and opened the front cover. There were the well-remembered words written out first in Bilbo's spidery hand, followed by Frodo's firm, flowing script. After searching through a few pages, with Pippin looking on over his shoulder, Merry turned to the back of the book. There he found a page bearing the title
"The Grey Havens", and the handwriting changed again, to a small, careful hand Merry knew immediately.
"Why, Sam; You've added to the book!" he exclaimed excitedly.
Scanning the pages as Merry turned them, Pippin added,
"You've put in the departure of Frodo's ship, and all the happenings of the Shire these many years; all our comings and goings to visit Strider and Arwen too!" he cried delightedly. Sam blushed.
"Well, Mr. Frodo said as how the last pages were for me to keep up with everything."
"Just so, Sam," Merry affirmed. "I begin to wonder if stories ever really come to an end."
"Well, Master Merry, you've hit the mark there, I'm thinking." Sam gazed thoughtfully at the two friends pouring over the book. "As a matter of fact, I've been meaning to take another little trip of my own, you might say." Two curly heads popped up as Merry and Pippin looked at Sam expectantly. "Oh, not an adventure! No; not much of a trip, really. It's just that I've not seen my Elanor in a long while, and I've decided to ride down to the Towers for a visit."
"When will you go?" inquired the Thain. Neither of Sam's guests thought his plans in any way unusual, being still quite fond of travelling themselves.
"The fact is, I'm starting on my way tonight; we always were fond of travelling at night, and my boy, Bilbo, has found a pony for me to use. I've got a pack with a bit of this and that to keep me on the Road."
"How long will you be gone?" Merry asked.
"Well now, I can't rightly say," Sam replied with a vague wave of his hand. "Until we've had a nice visit anyway."
"Very well," said Merry, "we're glad you asked us to celebrate the birthdays before you left."
"We couldn't let one go by unmarked, now could we?" Sam asserted, a twinkle in his eyes. "Now you two finish looking at the Book; I'll go on out and cut the cake, and pour us some tea." Off went Sam to the kitchen, as Merry turned pages slowly, with Pippin looking on.
When Sam called, the two guests set the book aside and went through to the kitchen. All three pulled up chairs to the table, and Sam passed around plates with thick slices of cake, and filled mugs with fresh, hot tea. Looking round at each other, they raised their mugs in unison. It was Merry who spoke:
"Dear old Frodo and Bilbo, the happiest of days, in your home across the waves."
"Why, you made it rhyme! How nice," Sam complimented. They all took a sip, then Pippin raised his mug again.
"Safe trip to you, Sam! Enjoy your visit, and tell us all the news when you return." They drank Sam's health, then setting mugs on the table, picked up their forks and began on the cake, eating with relish, and with compliments to the host. It was several helpings later until the friends said their goodnights and Sam saw them to the door. They parted with smiles, and Sam waved as they went off down the Hill into the gathering twilight.