February 6th

The journey to Rivendell started off well enough. Frodo and Iris planned on visiting Merry and Pippin at Crickethollow before continuing on to Bree. The only problem was the one Frodo had feared all along – Samwise. Sam insisted on being their armed escort through the Shire, and Freddy volunteered to accompany the three. It was only right, seeing as how he was the Hobbiton Shirriff and they were technically under his protection. But the trip wasn’t exactly a joyful one.

Sam was in a terrible mood. He was irritated that he could go no further than Crickethollow. Rose was seven months pregnant and was essentially house-bound in the freezing weather. Sam’s father was looking after his daughter-in-law, and Rose’s mother and Mistress Marigold Hornblower, the Hobbiton midwife, visited often. But Sam was nervous about leaving Rose for any extended period of time. He had threatened to tie Frodo up and lock him away at Bag End until after the baby was born. Frodo had counter-threatened with leaving the Shire for good and moving to Gondor, but a compromise was reached. Frodo agreed to wear the mithril coat and carry a weapon on his person at all times, and to have an armed escort the entire journey. Sam made him promise to return to the Shire if anything out of the ordinary happened at any stage of the trip. Sam was still unsatisfied, but it would have to do.

And now the journey had begun. Frodo and Iris rode on Strider and Bill. The sturdy ponies also carried all the extra food, gear and winter clothing required for the trip. Sam and Freddy walked in front, intent on providing a guard for Frodo. They both wore swords and Freddy carried his bow and arrows at the ready. Sam had even donned his Gondorian leather under his traveling cloak. He was taking no chances. The little company left well before dawn. It began lightly snowing early in the morning, and continued throughout the day.

“This has got to be the stupidest thing I’ve ever known him do,” Sam grumbled to Fredigar as they trudged side-by-side through the dusting of snow. “Taking off in weather like this. Him still not fully recovered from the last attempt on his life. Traveling outside the Shire when there’s a reward for him being brought in dead or alive. Taking his fiancé with ‘em. Puttin’ us all in danger. Ted Sandyman still on the loose. Stupid, I says.” Sam raised his voice and turned his head. “This is stupid, Mister Frodo.”

“Thank you, Master Gamgee,” Frodo calmly replied. “We have heard it all before. I did let you talk me into wearing Sting again. And you insisted on including yourself and Freddy on this little outing. You cannot blame me for your own misery. You volunteered.” Frodo shifted slightly in the saddle. His left thigh still bothered him when he was out in the cold, and his old shoulder wound ached again, but there was nothing to be done about it. Iris warned him the thigh wound might bother him for the next year or so, but that too was unimportant. Making it safely to Rivendell before March 10th – that was important.

“Yeah. Thanks a lot, Master Baggins, sir. That really eases my mind, your high and mighty lordship, sir.” Sam grumbled.

“Sam, sarcasm does not become you,” Frodo said. Strider snorted and shook the snow out of his mane.

“I know. I’m sorry,” Sam said, then turned around and started walking backwards. “No. I’m not sorry. I still think this is a bad idea. Why don’t we turn around and go back right now?” At the deafening silence, he resumed his forward-facing stride. “We could be sittin’ in front of the nice, warm fire in Bag End, sunk into nice thick blankets, sipping nice hot buttered totties, eattin’ nice warm muffins and kissin’ our nice, warm, round lasses. But no… Instead we’re slogging out here in the wild, through the ice and slush, watchin’ out for assassins and thieves, movin’ from one set of troubles to the next. Not right in the head, that’s what you are, Frodo Baggins. Me Gaffer used to tell me the Bagginses were slightly teched and I used to shush him about that. But I’m beginning to think he was right all along. This is all wrong, Frodo.”

“I would hardly call the East Farthing being out in the wild,” Iris said. She sat atop Sam’s pony, comfortably bundled up in a new fur-lined cloak. She and Bill had become fast friends during their trip to Micheldelving the previous month.

“Sam, why don’t you try shuttin’ up for a moment or two so we can be listening for things?” Freddy spoke up. “What with you jabberin’ on all the time, we might as well hang a big red sign about our necks and yell to the world ‘Here we are!’ Now, do shut up, will you?”

Iris snickered behind her gloved hand.

“And you!” Sam turned around and wagged an accusing finger at Iris. “You’re just as bad as him! You should have backed me up on this, you know! You know nothing about surviving in the wild. Tetched in the head, both of you.” Sam turned back around again. “Now I have two simpletons to look out for, not just one. A couple of village idiots, you two are.”

“You are sounding more like your Gaffer every day,” Frodo chucked. “So, you consider Iris and I simpletons and idiots, eh Sam? Thank you very much. I shall be sure to let Bilbo know your opinion of us.”

“Oh, no, Mister Frodo, Miss Iris…” Sam sputtered. “Frodo, don’t you dare! I didn’t mean … I mean … um … oh, heck. There I go again puttin’ my foot in my mouth.”

Freddy punched Sam on the shoulder. “Well why don’t you leave it there so we can all have some peace and quiet for a change? Cripes, you’re a whiner today. Frodo? How do you manage to live with such a mouth?” Sam punched him back and gave him a dirty look.

Frodo glanced at Iris and winked. “Look, Sam, we are still in the Shire. What could possibly happen?”

Sam whipped around again and frowned. “Don’t make jokes now, Mister Frodo. Remember what happened the last time you said that?”

Frodo smiled at the memories. “Well, at least we know where Pippin and Merry are this time around. And we are nowhere near Farmer Maggot or his dogs or mushrooms. Sam, we will be fine. There has been no word about Sandyman for weeks now. Please stop your grumbling.”

“Only when you stop acting like a fool,” Sam sullenly replied, continuing his march forward through the light snow.

“Mushrooms?” Iris inquired.

“Remind me to tell you that story later,” Frodo smiled.

Despite Sam’s irritation, the day was quite pleasant. It wore on into a long but quiet day of riding and walking though the gently-falling snowflakes. They stopped for late afternoon tea at one of the many inns along the way, taking a little time to warm up before continuing their journey through the East Farthing. Along the way they met up with the occasional hobbit walking or riding in their pony cart down the great East Road. But at each major crossroad they encountered a lone Shirriff standing guard, sword at the hip and official feather in the cap. After Sandyman’s attack the Shirriffs had been put on full-time duty, guarding the roads and borders of the Shire. They saluted Freddy as the little traveling party passed each Shirriff, and bowed or tipped their hats slightly as Frodo passed. This embarrassed Frodo to no end, but it pleased Sam. Iris kept her thoughts to herself.

The afternoon deepened into an early twilight and snowfall gradually ceased. The dusting skittered along the frozen roadway, lightly tossed about in the thin wind and captured by lonesome piles of well-seasoned leaves. They crossed the Brandywine Bridge in winter snowlight glow illuminated by a quarter-full moon. Merry was waiting for them as they exited the bridge and stepped into Buckland. He was wearing his Rohan armor covered with his old Elvish traveling cloak, and sat astride his dark bay pony. Another shaggy pony stood tethered to the nearby bridge post, tossing his grey mane and nickering at Bill and Strider.

“Well met and welcome to Buckland,” Merry smiled as he saluted and dismounted.

“Hullo, Captain Brandybuck, sir!” Freddy returned the salute with his short sword, then laughed and shook Merry’s hand. “Didn’t know you would be meeting us here.”

“Thought you wouldn’t mind riding the rest of the way,” Merry gestured to the extra pony. “Rest your feet and we’ll get there sooner. Let me give you a hand up.”

With Freddy and Sam sharing a pony, the little company soon arrived at Crickethollow. Lanterns were set out on either side of the red round front door, and also back in the barn. Pippin appeared through the cheerful front door to help with the luggage. Everyone dismounted and unloaded their packs, heading into the warmth of the house while Merry took care of the ponies.

“Hello, Frodo, Sam, Freddy, Iris,” the tall young hobbit called out. “I’ve nice, hot totties ready for everyone.” Pippin smiled and herded everyone towards the living room fireplace.

“See, Sam?” Freddy merrily called out. “We’re not missing anything on this trip, save our lasses, and we will take care of that soon enough.” Freddy gratefully accepted the steaming mug and took a gulp of the wonderful liquid.

Frodo hobbled over to the fireplace, carefully placing a large leather pack to one side. He stretched his tired muscles and tried stamping his feet to get the circulation back into his aching legs.

“What’s that you’ve got, Frodo?” Pippin asked as he handed his cousin a mug of mulled wine.

“Thanks, Pippin,” Frodo softly blew on the steaming mug of golden wine fortified with cloves and cinnamon sticks. “I am taking a draft of the history of the War of the Ring to show Bilbo. He started it well over five decades ago with his adventure out to the Lonely Mountain, and I have been updating it with our actions over the past two years.”

“Oh! So that’s what all those interviews were for, eh?” Pippin asked as he passed out other mugs to Iris and Sam. Pippin took a sip from his own mug. “Merry tells me you’ve been collecting stories from the dwarves too. Can I see?”

“Not tonight, Pip,” Merry said as he closed the front door and walked into the warm room. “We can get to that tomorrow. Right now our guests are probably ready for a warm bath and a nice sleep, seeing as it is well past midnight.”

“Ah, a warm bath,” Sam sighed. “Crickethollow should be rented out as a bathing spa. I have never been to a home which had nicer baths.”

“Or more of them,” Frodo smiled and turned to Iris. “Natural hot springs supply all the hot water here.”

“Miss Proudfoot, would you care to have the first bath?” Merry asked.

“Merry, where’s your manners?” Pippin waved his hand at his cousin. “We’ve a nice little late night dinner all ready to go. Anyone hungry?”

“I would love to have a bath first, if you don’t mind,” Iris said. Pippin bowed and led her off a side hallway towards the bathing room, carrying her luggage in hand.

The rest of the troupe helped themselves to the wonderful buffet laid out on the kitchen table. Steaming bowls of chicken soup, fresh beer bread, hard cheese and candied pears satisfied the hardiest of appetites. Even Fredigar commented on the quality and quantity of the late repast.

“Thanks, Freddy,” Pippin beamed with delight. “I’ve been brushing up on my cooking skills.”

“Any particular reason?” Frodo asked, helping himself to seconds on the soup. Pippin was not known for his culinary talents.

“He’s trying to impress a certain young lady who is visiting with my parents over at Brandy Hall,” Merry said between mouthfuls. “He’s had her over a couple of times for dinner.”

“Anyone we know?” Sam asked.

“Diamond Took of the Long Cleeve branch of my family,” Pippin said. “She lives up in the far corner of the North Farthing past Dwaling. We’re fourth or fifth cousins on my father’s side, or something like that.” Pippin got a misty look in his eyes. “I’m going to marry her someday.”

Merry almost choked on his drink. At that moment Iris reappeared, draping her towel across the back of a chair and helping herself to the dinner.

“I’ll go next,” Sam said, “but don’t you put away my plate or nothin. I’ll be back shortly.”

“There are two baths already drawn up,” Iris said as she attacked the bread and cheese.

“My turn then,” Freddy piped up. “Frodo, would you please make sure Captain Took here doesn’t pinch my plate either?”

“Yes sir! Will do,” Frodo saluted. “Pippin? Exactly how long have you known Miss Diamond?”

“It’s been seven days now,” the youngest hobbit replied. Merry continued to chuckle under his breath. “I’m serious about marrying her. It’s love at first sight, I tell you. I know you’ve never experienced it, Mer, but I’m very serious about this.”

“Pippin – you’re not even of age yet,” Merry countered. “You’re only thirty-two. Aren’t you going to play the field a little? You know – date a few lasses from closer to home like Tuckboro or Micheldelving? I mean … how could you fall in love so completely if you’ve never tried it out? You know… a test run or two?”

“Sam never dated anyone except Rose, and that’s worked out well,” Frodo quietly said.

“Sam’s old enough to know what he wants,” Merry continued. “Young Pip here hasn’t even sampled the wares before he’s made his choice and is ready to make a down payment.”

Pippin stopped eating. “Look, Mer – you can sample all the other girls in the Shire if you so desire. And it seems like you have more than enough desire for two or three hobbits, judging from how often you sample the goods. But leave Diamond off your list. I’m going to marry her someday and I don’t want you messing up a good thing I’ve started.”

“But Pippin,” Merry protested, “you’re far too young.”

“Merry, there is not right or wrong age to fall in love,” Frodo said. “I waited until I was fifty-two before I found the right lady.” He stood behind Iris and kissed her lightly on the top of her damp curls.

She smiled back. “And I’m glad he waited.”

Sam and Freddy soon reappeared from their baths and returned to attacking their interrupted dinners. Frodo put away his dishes in the sink. “If Pippin says Diamond is the one for him, then time will tell. I just hope she feels the same way about you, Pippin, as you feel about her in a few years, because you know her father is not going to agree to an early marriage.” He departed to take his solitary bath.

Only Iris was privy to the reason why he preferred to bathe alone. Frodo was still ashamed of the numerous scars on his body. He particularly did not want Sam to see the evidence of their hardships during the Quest, and avoided disrobing in front of Sam if at all possible.

After dinner and the baths were complete, everyone went into their assigned sleeping arrangements. Crickethollow had four bedrooms. Iris was assigned the smaller, secondary guest bedroom. Merry and Pippin doubled up in Pippin’s room, giving Merry’s master bedroom to Freddy. Sam and Frodo shared the primary guest bedroom.

Everyone was tired from the long day’s journey and content from the warm baths and hot food and drink. Soon Crickethollow was enveloped in peaceful silence in the chill winter night. Only the mournful chanting of an owl and the soft snores of a young Took disturbed the midnight hush.

The quiet was interrupted a couple of hours later.

“No!” Sam cried out, startling himself awake. He found himself tangled in sweaty bed sheets, his heart thumping wildly in his chest. Another violent nightmare.

“Sam?” a concerned voice called out from the chair next to the fireplace. “Are you all right?” Frodo leaned forward in the chair, wrapped in a colorful quilt.

Sam sighed and tried to control his harsh breathing. “It’s nothing. Sorry to wake you, Mister Frodo.” He lay back down, pulled the sheets up under his chin and closed his eyes tightly.

Frodo pulled the chair over next to Sam’s bed. He placed his left hand on Sam’s shoulder and gently began to massage the tight muscles. “You had a nightmare, didn’t you?”

A tear escaped the corner of Sam’s tightly shut eyes. Sam nodded and swallowed. This was so embarrassing.

“I have them too, Sam,” Frodo whispered. “They sometimes wake me up in the middle of the night. Sometimes it takes hours before I can fall back asleep.” Frodo continued to massage Sam’s shoulders. “I find that talking about them to Iris helps me.” Sam sniffled faintly as the silence grew. “Do you want to tell me about your nightmare?”

Sam blinked and stared up at the ceiling. Frodo stopped his massage and quietly waited in the chair.

“It’s always the same one,” Sam whispered. “Spiders. Nasty. Black. Bloated. Full of poison and death. Sometimes I dream they’ve killed you and are coming for me. Sometimes they attack Rose or the baby. Sometimes it’s me Gaffer or Uncle Andy or Marigold. And I’m always paralyzed with fear. I can’t do nothing or move. I watch them stab you over and over again. And you’re so pale and… and … dead…”

Sam turned onto his side away from Frodo and began to weep into his pillow. Frodo moved to the edge of the bed, made Sam sit up, and hugged his sobbing friend to his chest, gently rocking back and forth. Comforting his friend in the dark of the night.

“Shush, Sam,” he crooned, “it is only a dream. The spiders can not harm you or me or any of your loved ones any more. I am not dead. I am here. We survived the spider. She no longer has power. You vanquished her long ago.”

Sam continued to weep. “But I left you! I left you for dead! And you weren’t dead! I didn’t keep my promise! I left you!”

“Shush, Sam,” Frodo hugged him even more tightly. “You did what was right. You could not have stayed. It is all right. We made it out. We made it together. You were not paralyzed. You overcame your fear and rescued me. That spider has no power over you. The proof is here.”

“But Mister Frodo…. I left you,” Sam continued to cry. “I took the Ring and I left you. I don’t know how you carried that… that THING for so long. Oh, stars, it was awful! I didn’t want to. But I had to. Oh, Frodo, I’m so sorry.”

Frodo rubbed Sam’s back and rocked him back and forth. “Sam, I forgive you. I understand. You had no choice.” Frodo pulled away slightly and made Sam look him in the eye. “Sam, I still love you. Nothing will change that. Not even death.”

Sam buried his head into Frodo’s chest and cried hot tears of shame. Frodo let him sob, tears of understanding and empathy trickling down his own cheeks. After awhile Sam’s tears subsided. He pulled away and wiped his face with the back of his hands. Frodo got up and retrieved a towel from the nightstand, handing it to the emotionally distraught hobbit.

“You… you have nightmares too?” Sam managed to hiccup out.

“Often.”

“What are yours about?”

Frodo moved back into the chair. “The worse one is when I relive being stabbed at Weathertop. I see the Pale King; feel his icy breath; see the moonlight glinting on his blade; and know with dreadful certainty I will become a wraith like him. Then he… he stabs me and I wake up with my wound aching.”

Sam suddenly realized Frodo had not been in bed with him when he awoke from his nightmare. “Is that why you were sitting in the chair just now?”

“Yes,” Frodo confessed. “I am better now.” He pulled the quilt up under his chin. “Some nights it bothers me so much I have to go outside and walk the pain away.”

Sam’s eyes pleaded with Frodo. “Frodo, don’t go to Rivendell. It’s too dangerous.”

“Sam, I have to go.”

“You’re sick again, aren’t you?” Sam asked. “That’s the real reason why you’re going. And you’re taking your physician along with you.”

Frodo sighed and sank back further into the chair.

Sam continued. “I may not be fast, but I can see my way through a brick wall if given enough time. Why can’t it wait till better weather in Spring?”

Frodo stared into the weak fire. He finally answered. “I will have another relapse on March 10th. Of that Iris and I are certain. Lord Elrond is willing to treat me again and have Iris there to try and learn Elvish medicine.” He turned to look at Sam. “It is the only chance we have before the Elves leave Middle Earth. We cannot delay.” He looked down into his lap in shame. “Sam, please do not tell anyone what I just told you. I do not want my illness to become public knowledge.” Again, he turned to the fire. “We will be back mid-April if all goes well.”

Sam sat silent in the bed, thinking about it all. “All right. But if you’re not back by April 30th I’m coming after you.” He crossed his arms, his mouth set in a firm, thin line of determination.

Frodo smiled, “We will be back before then. Now try to go back to sleep.”

“Only if you do too. Now come to bed.”

“Samwise Gamgee. You become more stubborn with age, you know that?” Frodo chuckled as he climbed back into bed. They were soon both asleep.