return

1340 the return of the king
remembered and became a byword. Indeed a generation later
one might hear an old gaffer in an inn, after a good pint of
well-earned ale, put down his mug with a sigh: ‘Ah! that was
proper fourteen-twenty, that was!’
Sam stayed at first at the Cottons’ with Frodo; but when
the New Row was ready he went with the Gaffer. In addition
to all his other labours he was busy directing the cleaning up
and restoring of Bag End; but he was often away in the Shire
on his forestry work. So he was not at home in early March
and did not know that Frodo had been ill. On the thirteenth
of that month Farmer Cotton found Frodo lying on his bed;
he was clutching a white gem that hung on a chain about his
neck and he seemed half in a dream.
‘It is gone for ever,’ he said, ‘and now all is dark and
empty.’
But the fit passed, and when Sam got back on the twentyfifth,
Frodo had recovered, and he said nothing about himself.
In the meanwhile Bag End had been set in order, and Merry
and Pippin came over from Crickhollow bringing back all the
old furniture and gear, so that the old hole soon looked very
much as it always had done.
When all was at last ready Frodo said: ‘When are you going
to move in and join me, Sam?’
Sam looked a bit awkward.
‘There is no need to come yet, if you don’t want to,’ said
Frodo. ‘But you know the Gaffer is close at hand, and he will
be very well looked after by Widow Rumble.’
‘It’s not that, Mr. Frodo,’ said Sam, and he went very red.
‘Well, what is it?’
‘It’s Rosie, Rose Cotton,’ said Sam. ‘It seems she didn’t
like my going abroad at all, poor lass; but as I hadn’t spoken,
she couldn’t say so. And I didn’t speak, because I had a job
to do first. But now I have spoken, and she says: ‘‘Well,
you’ve wasted a year, so why wait longer?’’ ‘‘Wasted?’’ I says.
‘‘I wouldn’t call it that.’’ Still I see what she means. I feel torn
in two, as you might say.’