return

1342 the return of the king
dropped quietly out of all the doings of the Shire, and Sam
was pained to notice how little honour he had in his own
country. Few people knew or wanted to know about his deeds
and adventures; their admiration and respect were given
mostly to Mr. Meriadoc and Mr. Peregrin and (if Sam had
known it) to himself. Also in the autumn there appeared a
shadow of old troubles.
One evening Sam came into the study and found his master
looking very strange. He was very pale and his eyes seemed
to see things far away.
‘What’s the matter, Mr. Frodo?’ said Sam.
‘I am wounded,’ he answered, ‘wounded; it will never really
heal.’
But then he got up, and the turn seemed to pass, and he
was quite himself the next day. It was not until afterwards
that Sam recalled that the date was October the sixth. Two
years before on that day it was dark in the dell under
Weathertop.
Time went on, and 1421 came in. Frodo was ill again in
March, but with a great effort he concealed it, for Sam had
other things to think about. The first of Sam and Rosie’s
children was born on the twenty-fifth of March, a date that
Sam noted.
‘Well, Mr. Frodo,’ he said. ‘I’m in a bit of a fix. Rose and
me had settled to call him Frodo, with your leave; but it’s not
him, it’sher. Though as pretty a maidchild as anyone could
hope for, taking after Rose more than me, luckily. So we
don’t know what to do.’
‘Well, Sam,’ said Frodo, ‘what’s wrong with the old customs?
Choose a flower name like Rose. Half the maidchildren
in the Shire are called by such names, and what could be
better?’
‘I suppose you’re right, Mr. Frodo,’ said Sam. ‘I’ve heard
some beautiful names on my travels, but I suppose they’re a
bit too grand for daily wear and tear, as you might say. The
Gaffer, he says: ‘‘Make it short, and then you won’t have to