The Choices of Mayor Samwise -- III Election (c)
Sam had, as promised, spent the weeks after Merry-lad’s birth looking after his Elanorella, Frodo-lad, and Rose-lass, while the sturdy newborn, already bidding fair to resemble his namesake in stature, was tended by his mother. Elanor kept a stern eye on Frodo-lad while Sam was occupied with the now rapidly mobile Rose-lass, and they all helped him with solemn attention in the kitchen while he explained each step he took in cooking dishes by request. About four days in he had been joined for a happy week by an excited Merry and Stella, bubbling with their time in Rivendell, where Merry had been reading up on calendar reckoning and herblore ; both were infatuated with Merry-lad, but when banished from Rose’s side joined them all in the gardens with toad and hedgehogs. Sam’s favourite times, though, came in Eryn Edlothiad, playing with the bairns in the golden-green late-spring shade of the rustling chestnuts, gathering the bounteous mushrooms that sprang for yards along the bank of the Water, and after he had made sure the huorns didn’t mind a small deadwood fire, frying them up with butter and onions and diced bacon and a variety of herbs. After the children - including a dozen from the village who had mysteriously joined them as the aroma spread - were satiated, he took pity on the watching, drooling adults and did another large panful, Elanor dishing up plates with intent concentration before eating herself, settling into his arms, and asking guilelessly for a story.
Sam promptly began the tale of Pippin’s entirely Tookish courtship of the beautiful Miss Diamond North-Took - a source of gossip so widespread that all had heard about it, but in this telling shot through and burnished with insights. Pippin and Diamond were sixth and seventh cousins, once removed either way, so the brothers Ferumbras II and Bandobras Bullroarer came into it, and the slow sundering of Tooks and North-Tooks. Being Thain’s heir was never an easy thing when it came to marrying ; the attitudes of Thain Paladin and Mistress Eglantine to the northern line upped the burden by some way ; and Pippin’s great height had been more of an obstacle than an attraction for Miss Diamond, over whom he towered alarmingly. But to Long Cleeve’s amazement and amusement he had persevered, appealing to her feelings with fine flowers and sweet song, her stomach with receipts and food ranging from fresh game to delicious Gondorian fruits, and her mind with discussions of the Thainship and what he hoped to be able to do when his turn came ; and once he had won her heart he had swept away his parents’ doubts with his sheer joy. So there was to be a new joining of Tooks on First Lithe, held neither in Tuckborough nor Long Cleeve but at the Fairground on the White Downs, and the renewed contact between all Tooks was already brewing friendships and increased trade. The lesson Sam chose to draw from the tale involved seeing for yourself rather than believing old prejudices and not jumping to conclusions, and the adults who’d stayed to listen smiled, recognising the underlying thrust and carrying it into the discussions that now dominated every evening in the Green Dragon and Ivy Bush alike
The King’s Proposal had taken everyone by surprise, and (much as Will Whitfoot had predicted) some had been quick to welcome it while most were still ruminating. The Troubles were recent enough for every tween and adult to find merit in the idea of the Shire for hobbits and hobbits alone - saving that, as Tom Cotton pointed out more than once, that wasn’t what the Proposal actually suggested, only a ban on Men entering that wouldn’t do trade any good at all. The arguments had become quite involved and thoughtful when the Mayor’s second announcement, with the call for nominations for the election at Midsummer, alongside the vote on the Proposal, brought them all to a swift boil. Coming round to explain his decision in person Will had been unusually blunt about the problems he thought there would be if the Proposal passed, and uncommonly sharp in answering Olo Proudfoot’s predictable (and lengthy) complaint about anyone who couldn’t see it was the best thing that could happen. Then he’d sighed.
“I’m sorry, Olo, that was rude of me. Forgive me - my knee’s giving me a lot of gyp today. But I still say you’re speaking nonsense, once again. Maintaining the East and Sarn Ford Roads is in the Shire charter, and of course there’s more traffic on it these days - from which we all benefit.”
“I don’t call endless noise and fuss and trouble a benefit, Will, nor having campsites scattered along the road. We need no foreigners and we’ll be well rid of them all.”
“And what do you call the wergild, Olo? Will we be well rid of that when we stop Éomer King’s men from delivering it?” Many listeners suddenly looked very thoughtful indeed. “But you’re right we need to do something about those campsites, and I’m going to be looking at that with the family heads and the new mayor when we meet on Second Lithe. But the answer’s not this ban - it’s some proper new inns, with beds for men and dwarves, at Waymoot and Frogmorton, and down by Ringfield for folk coming up from Sarn Ford.”
Olo had gone pink. “What? Inns for men, encouraging them? Your knee’s not the only thing giving you bother, Will Whitfoot - your head’s not working at all. We need to be giving the Brownlock smial back to a proper hobbit family, not building more beds for men we don’t need nor want anywhere near us.”
“You reckon so, Olo? Well, sitting here with a mug in your hand it’s easy to wave your opinions about, but if you ever had to do my job you’d change your tune quick enough. Not that anyone would elect you - hobbits have more sense!”
It was an entertaining row while it lasted, but a few of the sharper heads noticed that Will seemed surprisingly cheerful after Olo had stomped out, and that Tom Cotton seemed highly amused by it all, which wasn’t his usual response to Olo’s dark pronouncements about foreign influence. They rather wished Sam had been there, but he’d said roundly that he knew what he thought about Strider’s idea, agreed with Will entirely, and had bairns to see to ; and when he and Rose did bring young Merry-lad down to the Green Dragon to introduce him, and the row was reported to him in elaborate detail, he said only that there was no more point arguing with a Proudfoot than with a wall, which was true enough. He did, however, rivet everyone’s attention by running thoughtfully through Mr Halladan’s misgivings about the Proposal and then a list of men a blanket ban would affect. The idea that the King himself wouldn’t be able to enter the Shire was a poser, but he told them to read the wording of the Proposal carefully, said flatly Strider would never pass a law and make an exception just for himself, and passed on through the Lords Steward and very many others to the wandering bards and tinkers all welcomed. When asked about the Brownlock smial he stunned everyone by shrugging and saying that as Mr Frodo had purchased it with his own money, not the Mayor’s Funds, and left it to him with everything else, it was his decision no matter what silliness Olo Proudfoot might come up with, and would not only stay as it was whatever happened but assuming the Proposal was voted down would be made available to men who came to see the mallorn so they didn’t have to beg the use of stables and the like, which wasn’t fitting. That started another urgent line of argument, and when Will’s idea about new inns was mentioned he not only happily agreed with it, but started a lively discussion of what they should be called.
Olo hadn’t been there but once he’d caught up with the news came crossly to Bag End to ask if it was true that Sam owned the Brownlock smial and intended to use it for the bothersome visitors as well as that Lord Steward, and when told it was loudly declared it all highly irregular and left in something of a fury. In the rants that followed it was hard to tell if he was more concerned by not having known that a privately owned smial was being used for official purposes, or at the idea of Sam Gamgee being able to decide who used it and no doubt making a pretty penny along the way. Neither much bothered most people, the one having saved everyone money and the other being Sam’s business, not Olo’s or anyone else’s ; but there was some concern about how many men might be allowed to use it, that Sam alleviated by cheerfully explaining the limits he had in mind and how he hoped the booking system would work. Rollo Goodbody had the cheek to ask how profitable it would be and got a long look that made him squirm but also the answer that the place needed keeping up, the laundry doing, and the garden properly tending, so there were costs as well as profits that would in any case mostly go the Green Dragon and the Ivy Bush as they took care of stabling and catering.
Olo was not mollified and a few days later news came from Michel Delving that he’d decided to stand for mayor and sent in his nomination. By Shire law two family heads had to endorse candidates, and besides himself as the Proudfoot he had the backing of his crony Hendo Grubb, one of whose nephews had been killed during the Troubles and who was still very bitter about it. Most people had laughed when Will had said hobbits had more sense than to vote for Olo, and confronted with the chance to do so it didn’t take them long to agree that what was needed was some more nominations and the sooner the better. Nor, as word spread, was that sentiment limited to Hobbiton and Bywater, for Olo’s temper and rudeness, like his father’s, had long made him less than well-liked in a surprising number of places. A Boffin passing though on his journey to deliver crates of the splendid Yale strawberries to a coming-of-age party in Little Delving shook his head, observing that he couldn’t think of anyone he’d less like to see officiating at his daughter’s wedding, and a Took and North-Took running messages and errands between Tuckborough and Long Cleeve, who’d both stopped in Bywater to fortify themselves, promptly agreed, recounting how when Captain Peregrin had heard he’d been openly thankful Will was guaranteed for his own wedding. And two days later many eyes watched with interested surmise as Thain, Master, and Mayor rode through Bywater and Hobbiton to Bag End.
Sam greeted them with a scowl, knowing perfectly well what they wanted and strongly suspecting they’d been conspiring about it, but the arguments he’d marshalled were swept into confusion when Rose served tea, blandly asked her guests to mind the children a moment, and whisked him out to the garden.
“Samwise Gamgee, you’re the cleverest hobbit in the Shire, as well as the best, and you took all of a minute to see why your Strider was wanting this ban. So you tell me now why you’re so determined you shouldn’t be Mayor, when you know full well it’s what everyone wants and that you’d be the best hobbit we could possibly have doing the job with all that’s happening.”
He did understand himself all too well, and couldn’t flannel Rosie with his Gaffer’s old saws and closed mind about what was proper.
“Because it should be Mr Frodo, of course. And I know that makes no more sense than Strider’s thinking. But it’s so unfair, Rosie. And he’d be the best hobbit for the job by a long way.”
“Would he, Sam? Truly? The old Mr Frodo, maybe. But not the one who came back. Remember what you told me about that evening during the Trials when you had to settle things between him and Mr Halladan? He did a wonderful job sorting out the mess but I don’t know he’d be the best choice now, when we’ve all these changes to face up to. And it’s all just wishing anyway, Sam. The best hobbit we could possibly have, I said, and I stand by it.”
He stared at her. “You want me to do it, Rosie?”
“I think we all need you to do it.”
“But I’m not selling Bag End, and I’m bothered if I’m going to spend every week away from home.”
“You won’t have to, Sam-love. There’s no rule the Mayor has to be in the Town Hole when he witnesses or does whatever else, only that wills and contracts are filed there. Oh you’d have to go there once or twice a month, I expect, and for weddings of course - but you could make the Thain and Master promise to do more of those, as they have been these last years on account of Mr Will’s knee.”
The penny dropped in Sam’s head. “They came to see you, Rosie?”
She dimpled. “Mr Will did, when you was in Bree.”
“The old schemer!”
The dimples deepened. “Yes, he is, but they were all in on it, and he had a point, Sam. Lots of them. And he knew you wouldn’t do it unless I was happy for you to, and I thought about all the problems and we talked them through a bit. We can make it work well enough without being apart too much. And anyway, Sam, have you asked yourself what Mr Frodo would tell you?”
He had, and knew better than to argue with Frodo and Rose at once, never mind Merry and Pippin. And in his heart he knew there were a lot of things that needed doing but Will hadn’t had the vision or the energy to see to. Strider’s proposal might be unworkable but he was right there were problems coming up the Roads that needed thinking about, and other than himself only Merry, Pippin, and Sara had the wits and knowledge to understand what would be involved. And the only hobbits forbidden by law from becoming Mayor were Thain and Master.
“You’re sure, Rosie love? It’ll mean a lot of work for you too. And for the children, soon enough.”
“I don’t mind work, and neither will they.”
So that was that, though he made Rose promise to play along and gave Will a hard time for a while, until even he had to admit the old schemer and Sara between them really had thought it through. There was no reason documents sent for signature to the Town Hole couldn’t be sent to Bag End, and it made no odds whether the Clerk of Records received the week’s batch from the Mayor’s hands or a Mayor’s Messenger. Thain and Master were indeed prepared to undertake more weddings and such other formalities as were likely to drag a Mayor about the Shire, and also perfectly happy with there being a Deputy Mayor or two who undertook such tasks in the further reaches of the Farthings.
“Actually, Sam, we rather think that will have to happen anyway. We’ve started a bulge in numbers with all those 1420 and ’21 babies, and you and Rose haven’t been the only ones helping it along, so common sense says the Mayor’s job’s going to grow. And in any case, it’s not really for that we want you to stand - there are other hobbits who could do that sort of thing well enough. It’s for dealing with outside we need you, Sam, and no-one else.”
“Sara’s right.” Thain Paladin had been quiet but now spoke crisply. “I couldn’t see it at the time, Samwise, but you were right about bringing in the Lord Steward to deal with those Ruffians, and right again about sending for the ents. And from all Sara says about what he heard in Bree, you can speak for the Shire as none other could hope to do except Merry and Pippin, and neither of them can serve as Mayor.”
“Mr Halladan listens fair to everyone.”
“Surely he does.” Sara sat forward. “But when you speak, Sam, he listens close and sits straight. He don’t stand on formalities much more than you, save when he has to, and he’ll happily call you Samwise same as we will, even though you still mister him half to death, but he also knows bone-deep in a way we don’t that you’re the Lord Perhael Cormacolindo Elvellon, thank you very much, and a Prince of the West to boot.” The Master grinned at Sam’s expression. “I had a long chat with him after you left us in Bree, and got his version of what those eagles that rescued you and Frodo had to say about it all. But more than that, even, he knows you won’t ever throw all that weight around without good cause, but when you do no-one sensible will be on the other side.”
Sam glared but Rosie was beaming and Will only laughed.
“I’m not just an old schemer, Sam, I’m a good one. Thirty-five years in this job and I’d better be. But you - you don’t scheme, you just do, and a bit later everyone else catches up with you. I was proud to marry you and Rose, and I’ll be prouder still to hand over to you.”
“I’ve still to beat old Olo, you know.”
But that made them all laugh, and the Bywater Moot, the first to be held, showed them right. One Moot for contested elections was held in each farthing, at Bywater, Hardbottle, Stock, and Longbottom, and the news of Sam’s nomination by the Took and the Brandybuck brought low whistles and high turnouts at all four, but after Bywater it was mostly a process of Olo Proudfoot digging himself ever deeper into a hole and Sam explaining the way of saying Yes, but to the King, and what the buts would be, and why. But the tale of the Bywater Moot was told for years.
From Sam’s point of view the trouble started with Elanor insisting she be allowed to come with him to the Moots, and enlisting the Gaffer (who had surprised everyone by taking only a moment to decide he was far prouder than offended) in her cause.
“She can understand, Sam, and she got the right to see her dad do something important.”
“Mr Olo’s going to be right cross, you know, Gaffer, and he’s not got the brains he was born with, so who knows what he might say? Elanorella’s only six, for all she’s as bright as a button.”
“Him not behaving proper’s no reason for you not to, Samwise Gamgee.”
That had been a stumper, and the argument had been taken clean out of Sam’s hands by the unexpected arrival of Elanor’s Uncles Elladan and Elrohir, who had been ambushed by her with shrieks of delight as they passed Eryn Edlothiad, listened gravely, and by the time they arrived at Bag End had promised to guard her against any possible evil her Per-ada could imagine. Sam knew an irresistible force when he met three of it, and besides his own pleasure in seeing the twins, the apologetic and informative but still stern letters they carried from Strider, to him and Elanor, and the charming letters from Lady Arwen to Rose and Elanor, left him precious little room to manoeuvre, supposing he’d wanted to. Even so, it felt very odd indeed to walk onto the platform that had been erected on Bywater green with not only Rose and Elanorella but Master and Thain, as well as their heirs, and two overdressed elves, to be greeted with a breathless hush followed by a lot of unnecessary applause.
Will Whitfoot was in charge, and after announcing that Lords Elladan and Elrohir, the King’s elven cousins, were here as observers for him, solemnly asked Sam and Olo Proudfoot who would speak first. Olo knew so little he insisted it be him, citing his age, regular headship of his family, and the date of his nomination, and was clearly taken aback by Sam’s instant agreement. And speak he did, showing with every word he still thought all he had to do was stir up natural fears, and had no more idea he was already on a hiding to nothing than how to fly. But the unresponsiveness of the audience, swollen by hobbits from far around, ate at him and he became wilder in his claims, Big folk had ever been nothing but a nuisance, were corrupted by goblins and who knew what, leading to terrible things, and it wasn’t just men but all foreigners who should be banned, unnatural trees and strange dwarves and peculiar elves and all, so honest hobbits could live decent lives free from anything strange. He’d glanced sideways at the twins as he denounced elves, but they were wholly serene ; then he made the irreparable mistake of saying that the strange fair children born after Mr Gamgee’s use of some horrid elven magic after his return from foreign parts only went to show why all contact with Outside was Bad News.
Elanor slipped from her Gaffer’s lap in an instant, raising her hand politely, and the twins were on their feet flanking her. Olo glanced aside, scowled, and ploughed on. Elanor looked at Will Whitfoot, who shrugged, for Olo didn’t have to take questions until he was done, and after a moment she turned to the twins, who knelt and listened, and rose to gesture the goggling audience to protect their ears before putting fingers to mouths and producing whistles that silenced Olo as effectively as a blade.
“Our apologies for interrupting, Mr Proudfoot, but Miss Elanor has a question.”
“A very good question you have certainly invited.”
“And you seemed to be ignoring her.”
“Which is neither wise nor polite.”
“We’re sure it was an oversight.”
“No-one could be that silly, surely?”
There had been a deep silence while Elanor thanked them both in Sindarin that made them grin, and then turned back to a severely discommoded Olo Proudfoot.
“Mr Proudfoot, sir, I’m only young, so maybe I’ve not understood something, but what I heard was that you’ve just as good as said there’s something wrong with me because I have fair hair. Is that right?”
There was an even deeper silence while Olo blanched.
“Well, I take it that’s a yes. And if so, Mr Proudfoot, you’re a …. Sam-dad, what’s that word they use in Gondor for someone who says one thing one day and something different the next? Like you do with grass and hair?”
Sam managed to keep a straight face. “Trimmer, do you mean, Elanorella?”
“Yes, that’s the one. Thank you. A trimmer, Mr Proudfoot, for I heard you say in the Green Dragon only a few weeks ago that a pint of 1420’s a grand thing. So if you like the beer from Lady Galadriel’s and Lady Yavanna’s blessing, why don’t you like the children?” This time Olo’s silence produced some foot-tapping from Elanor that seemed to hold everyone enthralled. “And you do realise Lady Galadriel is Uncle Elladan’s and Uncle Elrohir’s gammer? Even thinking she’d harm hobbits after all she did to help us with the trees the Ruffians killed - well, shame on you, Mr Proudfoot, shame on you.” An already beautifully furry foot stamped decisively. “You must apologise to them. What ever were you thinking to say such a thing? How would you feel if they said such wicked and silly things about your gammer Linda you always say was how a hobbit ought to be?”
Olo’s stammering apology, gravely accepted by the twins, followed by his silent abandonment of the platform had left Sam little choice but to rise himself at Will’s look, torn between pride and laughter and hastily revising how he’d meant to begin.
“Well now, Elanorella’s saved me a job, I reckon. Even a faunt could see it, we say, and how’s that for an example?” He let the relieving laughter run its course before holding up a hand. “But before he let his tongue run away with him, Mr Proudfoot said some things we do need to think about. Things are changing, and we all know it. How could they not when there’s a King again for the first time in more than a thousand years? And they’re going to change more. Most of it’s pretty good, too, like those pints of 1420, but of course there’s bad mixed in, same as with everything, and we need to be thinking long and carefully. That’s what the King’s trying to do, but his plan can’t nor won’t work as it stands, and I’ll show you why.”
Merry and Pippin rose and unfurled a great scroll, holding it high between them so everyone could see. It was an enlarged and simplified copy of Merry’s map, showing Gondor and Arnor, Eriador and Rhovanion, with the full length of the East-West and North-South Roads marked in bright red and the Shire lightly shaded so they showed through it with their joining at Waymoot. Pelargir, Minas Tirith, Edoras, Erebor and Dale, Tharbad, Bree, Fornost, Annúminas, and Mithlond were also marked, and Sam pointed each out with a slim stick he’d fashioned. There were more detailed copies of the map at Brandy Hall and the Great Smials, and the influence of those who’d been as far as Isengard among Tooks and Brandybucks, but most hobbits had never seen such a thing and there was much exclaiming as the sheer size of the world was taken in.
“Interesting, isn’t it? The map’ll be available after for you all to look at more closely. But the thing is the Roads, because they’re what joins everything together. Even if trade goes by sea, from Pelargir to Tharbad, up the river, or to Mithlond” - he traced the sea-routes - “it still needs the Roads, and they meet right here in the Shire. Waymoot it’s called, and a waymoot it is. The waymoot, even. Now when I was a lad, learning my gardening from my Gaffer, I didn’t think about a thing like trade, nor understand how it worked. Why would I? But I knew what happens to a big rock if you drop it into a little rill and block it, because that don’t stop more water arriving - the rock don’t win and it gets mighty wet in the process. Now, trade’s like a river flowing along those Roads, whether it’s dwarf goods from Erebor or the Ered Luin, or where Mr Gimli has his caves in Rohan, or Gondor’s fruits and grains coming to us, or our pipeweed and weavings going east to Bree or Dale or south to Gondor. And what the ban would do is turn the Shire into a rock blocking everyone else.” He let them digest it for a minute and then became brisker. “So what we need’s not a ban we can’t control ourselves but a way of managing what happens, and I’ve given some thought to that.”
Merry and Pippin turned the map round, revealing on the back a simplified version of the points Sam and Sara had worked out at Bree. Sam ran through them, lumping together the royalty and senior figures of the assorted kingdoms, but saying more about the various licensings by the King, his Lord Steward, the Breelands Council, or Thain, Master, and Mayor and how they’d work.
“Now, I’ve spoken about this to Thain Paladin, Master Saradoc, and Mayor Will, as well as Mr Halladan, and it’s agreed that the vote on the King’s Proposal won’t be a straight yes or no, but a straight yes, or a yes, but, which is all these extra provisions and what I’m recommending and will be voting for myself, or a straight no. And I’ll say one more thing, loud and clear, because whatever you choose, it’ll be me or Mr Proudfoot who’ll have to be dealing with it, and if it’s me, well, this’ll only be the start. There’s not just a king again, there’s a kingdom, and a free Shire will play a part in it. When Mr Frodo and Merry and Pippin and me had to leave back in 1418, on account of Sauron and that horrid Ring of his, you all thought we was cracked, even more than when we went to Buckland. Off to foreign parts? Whatever next? You’d have been more in agreement with Mr Proudfoot then.” They had the grace to laugh at themselves and Sam smiled. “We thought we was pretty cracked ourselves, what with one thing and another, but we learned better, and so have you all. We are changing, and for the better, and if you elect me I’ll be pushing that change along as best I can as well as making sure it is for the better. Building those new inns on the Roads, for starters. And what I won’t be doing, no matter what anyone says or wants, is holding to our old ways when they don’t work no more. So don’t say I didn’t tell you fair and square.”
He collected Elanorella from the Gaffer’s lap, hoisting her on his hip and returning to his speaking place.
“I don’t know what my Elanorella’s life will be like, and nor does she. The Shire’s her home, and always will be, same as it’s mine and all of ours, but that don’t mean she’ll always stay here. She knows there’s a world out there, and she wants to see some of it, and she will. Who knows? Maybe she has a destiny in Bree or Annúminas when it’s all rebuilt, or somewhere else. And what I’m standing for is for her to be able to do that safely and sensibly, respected as a Hobbit among Men and Dwarves and Elves and all. Mr Proudfoot thinks what he’s standing for is locking Men out, but what it is really is locking all of us and our children in. That’s it, saving questions, and you’ll want a look at the map before that.”
They did, and Sam had made a stand it could go on with both sides visible, so an orderly queue formed with Merry and Pippin answering geographical questions while he enjoyed what he thought was a well-earned pint of 1420. Will, the Thain, and Sara suppressed their cackles while he did answer questions, most about the licensing and some about the inns and what else he might have in mind, but once they were back in Bag End all three gave into mirth and insisted between fits of helpless laughter on toasting both Sam and Elanor several times.
“Oh it was just beautiful.” Will wiped his eyes. “I’m sorry I couldn’t interrupt him myself, Elanor, but that’s the rule. The serving mayor shall preside and ensure each candidate may speak freely, favouring none over any other and restricting himself to the conduct of the Moot. Don’t say nothing about elves and whistles, though.” He went off into another gale of laughter. “His face was a picture. And what’ll he say next time he downs a pint of 1420, eh?”
“It’s a fair thing?” Saradoc grinned. “More to the point, though, is the result’s a done deal now. And that’s not just Elanor’s doing, Sam, perfect as that was, it’s yours. That was a very good speech, and I’ll have some more of those maps done. You should too, Pal, and one for Michel Delving, Will, so all can see at their leisure. The proper copies take so long I’ve let that slip, but that simple version needn’t take more than a few hours. Good version of the list, too. And an excellent line about king and kingdom.”
“Oh yes.” The Thain raised his glass to Sam again. “There’s not just a king again, there’s a kingdom, and a free Shire will play a part in it. Everyone can see the sense of that.”
“That’s because it’s common sense.”
“Maybe so, Sam, but uncommonly well put.” Will had recovered himself. “One thing I wondered, though. What was it you said, Elanor, that made your uncles grin?”
Elanor blushed slightly. The twins were sitting cross-legged, Elrohir letting Frodo-lad inspect his boots while Rose-lass in Elladan’s lap played with his hair, and both looked up, eyes glinting.
“She merely thanked us, Mr Whitfoot.”
“For gaining the nodcock’s attention.”
Will laughed again. “There’s a Sindarin word for nodcock?”
“There is now.”
“Thanks to Sam.”
“I’m sorry, Sam-dad, but I knew he wouldn’t understand Sindarin and he had been very rude and silly.”
“So he had, Elanorella. Do you hear me telling you off for it? Politeness is one thing and being provoked another. But don’t go assuming folk won’t understand a language.”
She snuggled into him, relieved, but after the children were all abed and the adults had eaten, the twins opened a more serious conversation by explaining Aragorn’s request to understand more clearly the way the Shire was changing. The discussion went on for a while before the older hobbits flagged, and Sam was left with Rose, Merry and Pippin, and the elves, who glanced at one another before Elladan spoke.
“There was one other question our sister wanted us to ask you, Sam. Have you ever dreamed of Frodo in Aman?”
Sam sighed and shook his head. “No. I dream of him as he was, sometimes, when he went on the ship. And a few times I’ve had a dream that I reckon must be of Aman, a great mountain by the sea, all filled with light, and when I wake up I feel he’s safe and happy, despite missing us as we miss him. But I’ve never seen him there.”
“You haven’t told that to Estel.”
“Nor Pip and me, Sam.”
“What could I say, Merry? It’s only a feeling, and it’s what we all want to believe. I told Rosie because I reckon she’s a right to know of the good dreams, same as she’s no choice but to know of the bad, and I’ve said to you both and to Strider as I do believe it. But I don’t know, no more than anyone, and it don’t prove nothing.”
“But maybe it does, Sam. Does the great mountain have three lesser peaks on the seaward side?”
“A great and shining hall upon its summit?”
“And a city of the Teleri at its base?”
“I don’t know if it’s of the Teleri, but yes, I saw a city one time, a port with ships, and the three peaks every time. I don’t see no hall, though, just a great blaze of light. You know it?”
“It is Taniquetil, Sam, where Lord Manwë dwells with Lady Varda. All Calaquendi dream of it sometimes.”
“And Glorfindel often.”
“But our Adar taught us that Lord Irmo will not show it nor any part of Aman in the dreams of any Secondborn without Lord Manwë’s permission.”
“So if you have dreamed of Taniquetil and felt comforted when you woke, it is a true dream.”
“And a true comfort. The Valar are often silent, but they do not lie. So Frodo is indeed safe and happy.”
“Halladan is coming to your wedding, Pippin, is he not? Then we will ask him to bring the Palantír, and ask you to tell Estel yourself of these dreams, Sam. He grieves yet for Frodo, and his mind will be greatly eased.”
Sam’s wonder and relief were laced with fresh distress. “I’d have told him if I’d known.”
“Or if he had thought to ask, as our sister did.”
“It is a joy, not a blame.”
“And there is no bar so far as we know to any in Aman dreaming of aught in Arda.”
“So we may hope Frodo will dream of tonight, and rejoice with us in Elanor Elvellon.”
“Who really should go with you to the other Moots.”
Protesting, however fruitlessly, got Sam over his immediate sense of guilt, and a sense of surety about Frodo was a boon, but knew he owed Strider an apology for calling him a ninnyhammer when he’d been being such a noodle himself.
Sam promptly began the tale of Pippin’s entirely Tookish courtship of the beautiful Miss Diamond North-Took - a source of gossip so widespread that all had heard about it, but in this telling shot through and burnished with insights. Pippin and Diamond were sixth and seventh cousins, once removed either way, so the brothers Ferumbras II and Bandobras Bullroarer came into it, and the slow sundering of Tooks and North-Tooks. Being Thain’s heir was never an easy thing when it came to marrying ; the attitudes of Thain Paladin and Mistress Eglantine to the northern line upped the burden by some way ; and Pippin’s great height had been more of an obstacle than an attraction for Miss Diamond, over whom he towered alarmingly. But to Long Cleeve’s amazement and amusement he had persevered, appealing to her feelings with fine flowers and sweet song, her stomach with receipts and food ranging from fresh game to delicious Gondorian fruits, and her mind with discussions of the Thainship and what he hoped to be able to do when his turn came ; and once he had won her heart he had swept away his parents’ doubts with his sheer joy. So there was to be a new joining of Tooks on First Lithe, held neither in Tuckborough nor Long Cleeve but at the Fairground on the White Downs, and the renewed contact between all Tooks was already brewing friendships and increased trade. The lesson Sam chose to draw from the tale involved seeing for yourself rather than believing old prejudices and not jumping to conclusions, and the adults who’d stayed to listen smiled, recognising the underlying thrust and carrying it into the discussions that now dominated every evening in the Green Dragon and Ivy Bush alike
The King’s Proposal had taken everyone by surprise, and (much as Will Whitfoot had predicted) some had been quick to welcome it while most were still ruminating. The Troubles were recent enough for every tween and adult to find merit in the idea of the Shire for hobbits and hobbits alone - saving that, as Tom Cotton pointed out more than once, that wasn’t what the Proposal actually suggested, only a ban on Men entering that wouldn’t do trade any good at all. The arguments had become quite involved and thoughtful when the Mayor’s second announcement, with the call for nominations for the election at Midsummer, alongside the vote on the Proposal, brought them all to a swift boil. Coming round to explain his decision in person Will had been unusually blunt about the problems he thought there would be if the Proposal passed, and uncommonly sharp in answering Olo Proudfoot’s predictable (and lengthy) complaint about anyone who couldn’t see it was the best thing that could happen. Then he’d sighed.
“I’m sorry, Olo, that was rude of me. Forgive me - my knee’s giving me a lot of gyp today. But I still say you’re speaking nonsense, once again. Maintaining the East and Sarn Ford Roads is in the Shire charter, and of course there’s more traffic on it these days - from which we all benefit.”
“I don’t call endless noise and fuss and trouble a benefit, Will, nor having campsites scattered along the road. We need no foreigners and we’ll be well rid of them all.”
“And what do you call the wergild, Olo? Will we be well rid of that when we stop Éomer King’s men from delivering it?” Many listeners suddenly looked very thoughtful indeed. “But you’re right we need to do something about those campsites, and I’m going to be looking at that with the family heads and the new mayor when we meet on Second Lithe. But the answer’s not this ban - it’s some proper new inns, with beds for men and dwarves, at Waymoot and Frogmorton, and down by Ringfield for folk coming up from Sarn Ford.”
Olo had gone pink. “What? Inns for men, encouraging them? Your knee’s not the only thing giving you bother, Will Whitfoot - your head’s not working at all. We need to be giving the Brownlock smial back to a proper hobbit family, not building more beds for men we don’t need nor want anywhere near us.”
“You reckon so, Olo? Well, sitting here with a mug in your hand it’s easy to wave your opinions about, but if you ever had to do my job you’d change your tune quick enough. Not that anyone would elect you - hobbits have more sense!”
It was an entertaining row while it lasted, but a few of the sharper heads noticed that Will seemed surprisingly cheerful after Olo had stomped out, and that Tom Cotton seemed highly amused by it all, which wasn’t his usual response to Olo’s dark pronouncements about foreign influence. They rather wished Sam had been there, but he’d said roundly that he knew what he thought about Strider’s idea, agreed with Will entirely, and had bairns to see to ; and when he and Rose did bring young Merry-lad down to the Green Dragon to introduce him, and the row was reported to him in elaborate detail, he said only that there was no more point arguing with a Proudfoot than with a wall, which was true enough. He did, however, rivet everyone’s attention by running thoughtfully through Mr Halladan’s misgivings about the Proposal and then a list of men a blanket ban would affect. The idea that the King himself wouldn’t be able to enter the Shire was a poser, but he told them to read the wording of the Proposal carefully, said flatly Strider would never pass a law and make an exception just for himself, and passed on through the Lords Steward and very many others to the wandering bards and tinkers all welcomed. When asked about the Brownlock smial he stunned everyone by shrugging and saying that as Mr Frodo had purchased it with his own money, not the Mayor’s Funds, and left it to him with everything else, it was his decision no matter what silliness Olo Proudfoot might come up with, and would not only stay as it was whatever happened but assuming the Proposal was voted down would be made available to men who came to see the mallorn so they didn’t have to beg the use of stables and the like, which wasn’t fitting. That started another urgent line of argument, and when Will’s idea about new inns was mentioned he not only happily agreed with it, but started a lively discussion of what they should be called.
Olo hadn’t been there but once he’d caught up with the news came crossly to Bag End to ask if it was true that Sam owned the Brownlock smial and intended to use it for the bothersome visitors as well as that Lord Steward, and when told it was loudly declared it all highly irregular and left in something of a fury. In the rants that followed it was hard to tell if he was more concerned by not having known that a privately owned smial was being used for official purposes, or at the idea of Sam Gamgee being able to decide who used it and no doubt making a pretty penny along the way. Neither much bothered most people, the one having saved everyone money and the other being Sam’s business, not Olo’s or anyone else’s ; but there was some concern about how many men might be allowed to use it, that Sam alleviated by cheerfully explaining the limits he had in mind and how he hoped the booking system would work. Rollo Goodbody had the cheek to ask how profitable it would be and got a long look that made him squirm but also the answer that the place needed keeping up, the laundry doing, and the garden properly tending, so there were costs as well as profits that would in any case mostly go the Green Dragon and the Ivy Bush as they took care of stabling and catering.
Olo was not mollified and a few days later news came from Michel Delving that he’d decided to stand for mayor and sent in his nomination. By Shire law two family heads had to endorse candidates, and besides himself as the Proudfoot he had the backing of his crony Hendo Grubb, one of whose nephews had been killed during the Troubles and who was still very bitter about it. Most people had laughed when Will had said hobbits had more sense than to vote for Olo, and confronted with the chance to do so it didn’t take them long to agree that what was needed was some more nominations and the sooner the better. Nor, as word spread, was that sentiment limited to Hobbiton and Bywater, for Olo’s temper and rudeness, like his father’s, had long made him less than well-liked in a surprising number of places. A Boffin passing though on his journey to deliver crates of the splendid Yale strawberries to a coming-of-age party in Little Delving shook his head, observing that he couldn’t think of anyone he’d less like to see officiating at his daughter’s wedding, and a Took and North-Took running messages and errands between Tuckborough and Long Cleeve, who’d both stopped in Bywater to fortify themselves, promptly agreed, recounting how when Captain Peregrin had heard he’d been openly thankful Will was guaranteed for his own wedding. And two days later many eyes watched with interested surmise as Thain, Master, and Mayor rode through Bywater and Hobbiton to Bag End.
Sam greeted them with a scowl, knowing perfectly well what they wanted and strongly suspecting they’d been conspiring about it, but the arguments he’d marshalled were swept into confusion when Rose served tea, blandly asked her guests to mind the children a moment, and whisked him out to the garden.
“Samwise Gamgee, you’re the cleverest hobbit in the Shire, as well as the best, and you took all of a minute to see why your Strider was wanting this ban. So you tell me now why you’re so determined you shouldn’t be Mayor, when you know full well it’s what everyone wants and that you’d be the best hobbit we could possibly have doing the job with all that’s happening.”
He did understand himself all too well, and couldn’t flannel Rosie with his Gaffer’s old saws and closed mind about what was proper.
“Because it should be Mr Frodo, of course. And I know that makes no more sense than Strider’s thinking. But it’s so unfair, Rosie. And he’d be the best hobbit for the job by a long way.”
“Would he, Sam? Truly? The old Mr Frodo, maybe. But not the one who came back. Remember what you told me about that evening during the Trials when you had to settle things between him and Mr Halladan? He did a wonderful job sorting out the mess but I don’t know he’d be the best choice now, when we’ve all these changes to face up to. And it’s all just wishing anyway, Sam. The best hobbit we could possibly have, I said, and I stand by it.”
He stared at her. “You want me to do it, Rosie?”
“I think we all need you to do it.”
“But I’m not selling Bag End, and I’m bothered if I’m going to spend every week away from home.”
“You won’t have to, Sam-love. There’s no rule the Mayor has to be in the Town Hole when he witnesses or does whatever else, only that wills and contracts are filed there. Oh you’d have to go there once or twice a month, I expect, and for weddings of course - but you could make the Thain and Master promise to do more of those, as they have been these last years on account of Mr Will’s knee.”
The penny dropped in Sam’s head. “They came to see you, Rosie?”
She dimpled. “Mr Will did, when you was in Bree.”
“The old schemer!”
The dimples deepened. “Yes, he is, but they were all in on it, and he had a point, Sam. Lots of them. And he knew you wouldn’t do it unless I was happy for you to, and I thought about all the problems and we talked them through a bit. We can make it work well enough without being apart too much. And anyway, Sam, have you asked yourself what Mr Frodo would tell you?”
He had, and knew better than to argue with Frodo and Rose at once, never mind Merry and Pippin. And in his heart he knew there were a lot of things that needed doing but Will hadn’t had the vision or the energy to see to. Strider’s proposal might be unworkable but he was right there were problems coming up the Roads that needed thinking about, and other than himself only Merry, Pippin, and Sara had the wits and knowledge to understand what would be involved. And the only hobbits forbidden by law from becoming Mayor were Thain and Master.
“You’re sure, Rosie love? It’ll mean a lot of work for you too. And for the children, soon enough.”
“I don’t mind work, and neither will they.”
So that was that, though he made Rose promise to play along and gave Will a hard time for a while, until even he had to admit the old schemer and Sara between them really had thought it through. There was no reason documents sent for signature to the Town Hole couldn’t be sent to Bag End, and it made no odds whether the Clerk of Records received the week’s batch from the Mayor’s hands or a Mayor’s Messenger. Thain and Master were indeed prepared to undertake more weddings and such other formalities as were likely to drag a Mayor about the Shire, and also perfectly happy with there being a Deputy Mayor or two who undertook such tasks in the further reaches of the Farthings.
“Actually, Sam, we rather think that will have to happen anyway. We’ve started a bulge in numbers with all those 1420 and ’21 babies, and you and Rose haven’t been the only ones helping it along, so common sense says the Mayor’s job’s going to grow. And in any case, it’s not really for that we want you to stand - there are other hobbits who could do that sort of thing well enough. It’s for dealing with outside we need you, Sam, and no-one else.”
“Sara’s right.” Thain Paladin had been quiet but now spoke crisply. “I couldn’t see it at the time, Samwise, but you were right about bringing in the Lord Steward to deal with those Ruffians, and right again about sending for the ents. And from all Sara says about what he heard in Bree, you can speak for the Shire as none other could hope to do except Merry and Pippin, and neither of them can serve as Mayor.”
“Mr Halladan listens fair to everyone.”
“Surely he does.” Sara sat forward. “But when you speak, Sam, he listens close and sits straight. He don’t stand on formalities much more than you, save when he has to, and he’ll happily call you Samwise same as we will, even though you still mister him half to death, but he also knows bone-deep in a way we don’t that you’re the Lord Perhael Cormacolindo Elvellon, thank you very much, and a Prince of the West to boot.” The Master grinned at Sam’s expression. “I had a long chat with him after you left us in Bree, and got his version of what those eagles that rescued you and Frodo had to say about it all. But more than that, even, he knows you won’t ever throw all that weight around without good cause, but when you do no-one sensible will be on the other side.”
Sam glared but Rosie was beaming and Will only laughed.
“I’m not just an old schemer, Sam, I’m a good one. Thirty-five years in this job and I’d better be. But you - you don’t scheme, you just do, and a bit later everyone else catches up with you. I was proud to marry you and Rose, and I’ll be prouder still to hand over to you.”
“I’ve still to beat old Olo, you know.”
But that made them all laugh, and the Bywater Moot, the first to be held, showed them right. One Moot for contested elections was held in each farthing, at Bywater, Hardbottle, Stock, and Longbottom, and the news of Sam’s nomination by the Took and the Brandybuck brought low whistles and high turnouts at all four, but after Bywater it was mostly a process of Olo Proudfoot digging himself ever deeper into a hole and Sam explaining the way of saying Yes, but to the King, and what the buts would be, and why. But the tale of the Bywater Moot was told for years.
From Sam’s point of view the trouble started with Elanor insisting she be allowed to come with him to the Moots, and enlisting the Gaffer (who had surprised everyone by taking only a moment to decide he was far prouder than offended) in her cause.
“She can understand, Sam, and she got the right to see her dad do something important.”
“Mr Olo’s going to be right cross, you know, Gaffer, and he’s not got the brains he was born with, so who knows what he might say? Elanorella’s only six, for all she’s as bright as a button.”
“Him not behaving proper’s no reason for you not to, Samwise Gamgee.”
That had been a stumper, and the argument had been taken clean out of Sam’s hands by the unexpected arrival of Elanor’s Uncles Elladan and Elrohir, who had been ambushed by her with shrieks of delight as they passed Eryn Edlothiad, listened gravely, and by the time they arrived at Bag End had promised to guard her against any possible evil her Per-ada could imagine. Sam knew an irresistible force when he met three of it, and besides his own pleasure in seeing the twins, the apologetic and informative but still stern letters they carried from Strider, to him and Elanor, and the charming letters from Lady Arwen to Rose and Elanor, left him precious little room to manoeuvre, supposing he’d wanted to. Even so, it felt very odd indeed to walk onto the platform that had been erected on Bywater green with not only Rose and Elanorella but Master and Thain, as well as their heirs, and two overdressed elves, to be greeted with a breathless hush followed by a lot of unnecessary applause.
Will Whitfoot was in charge, and after announcing that Lords Elladan and Elrohir, the King’s elven cousins, were here as observers for him, solemnly asked Sam and Olo Proudfoot who would speak first. Olo knew so little he insisted it be him, citing his age, regular headship of his family, and the date of his nomination, and was clearly taken aback by Sam’s instant agreement. And speak he did, showing with every word he still thought all he had to do was stir up natural fears, and had no more idea he was already on a hiding to nothing than how to fly. But the unresponsiveness of the audience, swollen by hobbits from far around, ate at him and he became wilder in his claims, Big folk had ever been nothing but a nuisance, were corrupted by goblins and who knew what, leading to terrible things, and it wasn’t just men but all foreigners who should be banned, unnatural trees and strange dwarves and peculiar elves and all, so honest hobbits could live decent lives free from anything strange. He’d glanced sideways at the twins as he denounced elves, but they were wholly serene ; then he made the irreparable mistake of saying that the strange fair children born after Mr Gamgee’s use of some horrid elven magic after his return from foreign parts only went to show why all contact with Outside was Bad News.
Elanor slipped from her Gaffer’s lap in an instant, raising her hand politely, and the twins were on their feet flanking her. Olo glanced aside, scowled, and ploughed on. Elanor looked at Will Whitfoot, who shrugged, for Olo didn’t have to take questions until he was done, and after a moment she turned to the twins, who knelt and listened, and rose to gesture the goggling audience to protect their ears before putting fingers to mouths and producing whistles that silenced Olo as effectively as a blade.
“Our apologies for interrupting, Mr Proudfoot, but Miss Elanor has a question.”
“A very good question you have certainly invited.”
“And you seemed to be ignoring her.”
“Which is neither wise nor polite.”
“We’re sure it was an oversight.”
“No-one could be that silly, surely?”
There had been a deep silence while Elanor thanked them both in Sindarin that made them grin, and then turned back to a severely discommoded Olo Proudfoot.
“Mr Proudfoot, sir, I’m only young, so maybe I’ve not understood something, but what I heard was that you’ve just as good as said there’s something wrong with me because I have fair hair. Is that right?”
There was an even deeper silence while Olo blanched.
“Well, I take it that’s a yes. And if so, Mr Proudfoot, you’re a …. Sam-dad, what’s that word they use in Gondor for someone who says one thing one day and something different the next? Like you do with grass and hair?”
Sam managed to keep a straight face. “Trimmer, do you mean, Elanorella?”
“Yes, that’s the one. Thank you. A trimmer, Mr Proudfoot, for I heard you say in the Green Dragon only a few weeks ago that a pint of 1420’s a grand thing. So if you like the beer from Lady Galadriel’s and Lady Yavanna’s blessing, why don’t you like the children?” This time Olo’s silence produced some foot-tapping from Elanor that seemed to hold everyone enthralled. “And you do realise Lady Galadriel is Uncle Elladan’s and Uncle Elrohir’s gammer? Even thinking she’d harm hobbits after all she did to help us with the trees the Ruffians killed - well, shame on you, Mr Proudfoot, shame on you.” An already beautifully furry foot stamped decisively. “You must apologise to them. What ever were you thinking to say such a thing? How would you feel if they said such wicked and silly things about your gammer Linda you always say was how a hobbit ought to be?”
Olo’s stammering apology, gravely accepted by the twins, followed by his silent abandonment of the platform had left Sam little choice but to rise himself at Will’s look, torn between pride and laughter and hastily revising how he’d meant to begin.
“Well now, Elanorella’s saved me a job, I reckon. Even a faunt could see it, we say, and how’s that for an example?” He let the relieving laughter run its course before holding up a hand. “But before he let his tongue run away with him, Mr Proudfoot said some things we do need to think about. Things are changing, and we all know it. How could they not when there’s a King again for the first time in more than a thousand years? And they’re going to change more. Most of it’s pretty good, too, like those pints of 1420, but of course there’s bad mixed in, same as with everything, and we need to be thinking long and carefully. That’s what the King’s trying to do, but his plan can’t nor won’t work as it stands, and I’ll show you why.”
Merry and Pippin rose and unfurled a great scroll, holding it high between them so everyone could see. It was an enlarged and simplified copy of Merry’s map, showing Gondor and Arnor, Eriador and Rhovanion, with the full length of the East-West and North-South Roads marked in bright red and the Shire lightly shaded so they showed through it with their joining at Waymoot. Pelargir, Minas Tirith, Edoras, Erebor and Dale, Tharbad, Bree, Fornost, Annúminas, and Mithlond were also marked, and Sam pointed each out with a slim stick he’d fashioned. There were more detailed copies of the map at Brandy Hall and the Great Smials, and the influence of those who’d been as far as Isengard among Tooks and Brandybucks, but most hobbits had never seen such a thing and there was much exclaiming as the sheer size of the world was taken in.
“Interesting, isn’t it? The map’ll be available after for you all to look at more closely. But the thing is the Roads, because they’re what joins everything together. Even if trade goes by sea, from Pelargir to Tharbad, up the river, or to Mithlond” - he traced the sea-routes - “it still needs the Roads, and they meet right here in the Shire. Waymoot it’s called, and a waymoot it is. The waymoot, even. Now when I was a lad, learning my gardening from my Gaffer, I didn’t think about a thing like trade, nor understand how it worked. Why would I? But I knew what happens to a big rock if you drop it into a little rill and block it, because that don’t stop more water arriving - the rock don’t win and it gets mighty wet in the process. Now, trade’s like a river flowing along those Roads, whether it’s dwarf goods from Erebor or the Ered Luin, or where Mr Gimli has his caves in Rohan, or Gondor’s fruits and grains coming to us, or our pipeweed and weavings going east to Bree or Dale or south to Gondor. And what the ban would do is turn the Shire into a rock blocking everyone else.” He let them digest it for a minute and then became brisker. “So what we need’s not a ban we can’t control ourselves but a way of managing what happens, and I’ve given some thought to that.”
Merry and Pippin turned the map round, revealing on the back a simplified version of the points Sam and Sara had worked out at Bree. Sam ran through them, lumping together the royalty and senior figures of the assorted kingdoms, but saying more about the various licensings by the King, his Lord Steward, the Breelands Council, or Thain, Master, and Mayor and how they’d work.
“Now, I’ve spoken about this to Thain Paladin, Master Saradoc, and Mayor Will, as well as Mr Halladan, and it’s agreed that the vote on the King’s Proposal won’t be a straight yes or no, but a straight yes, or a yes, but, which is all these extra provisions and what I’m recommending and will be voting for myself, or a straight no. And I’ll say one more thing, loud and clear, because whatever you choose, it’ll be me or Mr Proudfoot who’ll have to be dealing with it, and if it’s me, well, this’ll only be the start. There’s not just a king again, there’s a kingdom, and a free Shire will play a part in it. When Mr Frodo and Merry and Pippin and me had to leave back in 1418, on account of Sauron and that horrid Ring of his, you all thought we was cracked, even more than when we went to Buckland. Off to foreign parts? Whatever next? You’d have been more in agreement with Mr Proudfoot then.” They had the grace to laugh at themselves and Sam smiled. “We thought we was pretty cracked ourselves, what with one thing and another, but we learned better, and so have you all. We are changing, and for the better, and if you elect me I’ll be pushing that change along as best I can as well as making sure it is for the better. Building those new inns on the Roads, for starters. And what I won’t be doing, no matter what anyone says or wants, is holding to our old ways when they don’t work no more. So don’t say I didn’t tell you fair and square.”
He collected Elanorella from the Gaffer’s lap, hoisting her on his hip and returning to his speaking place.
“I don’t know what my Elanorella’s life will be like, and nor does she. The Shire’s her home, and always will be, same as it’s mine and all of ours, but that don’t mean she’ll always stay here. She knows there’s a world out there, and she wants to see some of it, and she will. Who knows? Maybe she has a destiny in Bree or Annúminas when it’s all rebuilt, or somewhere else. And what I’m standing for is for her to be able to do that safely and sensibly, respected as a Hobbit among Men and Dwarves and Elves and all. Mr Proudfoot thinks what he’s standing for is locking Men out, but what it is really is locking all of us and our children in. That’s it, saving questions, and you’ll want a look at the map before that.”
They did, and Sam had made a stand it could go on with both sides visible, so an orderly queue formed with Merry and Pippin answering geographical questions while he enjoyed what he thought was a well-earned pint of 1420. Will, the Thain, and Sara suppressed their cackles while he did answer questions, most about the licensing and some about the inns and what else he might have in mind, but once they were back in Bag End all three gave into mirth and insisted between fits of helpless laughter on toasting both Sam and Elanor several times.
“Oh it was just beautiful.” Will wiped his eyes. “I’m sorry I couldn’t interrupt him myself, Elanor, but that’s the rule. The serving mayor shall preside and ensure each candidate may speak freely, favouring none over any other and restricting himself to the conduct of the Moot. Don’t say nothing about elves and whistles, though.” He went off into another gale of laughter. “His face was a picture. And what’ll he say next time he downs a pint of 1420, eh?”
“It’s a fair thing?” Saradoc grinned. “More to the point, though, is the result’s a done deal now. And that’s not just Elanor’s doing, Sam, perfect as that was, it’s yours. That was a very good speech, and I’ll have some more of those maps done. You should too, Pal, and one for Michel Delving, Will, so all can see at their leisure. The proper copies take so long I’ve let that slip, but that simple version needn’t take more than a few hours. Good version of the list, too. And an excellent line about king and kingdom.”
“Oh yes.” The Thain raised his glass to Sam again. “There’s not just a king again, there’s a kingdom, and a free Shire will play a part in it. Everyone can see the sense of that.”
“That’s because it’s common sense.”
“Maybe so, Sam, but uncommonly well put.” Will had recovered himself. “One thing I wondered, though. What was it you said, Elanor, that made your uncles grin?”
Elanor blushed slightly. The twins were sitting cross-legged, Elrohir letting Frodo-lad inspect his boots while Rose-lass in Elladan’s lap played with his hair, and both looked up, eyes glinting.
“She merely thanked us, Mr Whitfoot.”
“For gaining the nodcock’s attention.”
Will laughed again. “There’s a Sindarin word for nodcock?”
“There is now.”
“Thanks to Sam.”
“I’m sorry, Sam-dad, but I knew he wouldn’t understand Sindarin and he had been very rude and silly.”
“So he had, Elanorella. Do you hear me telling you off for it? Politeness is one thing and being provoked another. But don’t go assuming folk won’t understand a language.”
She snuggled into him, relieved, but after the children were all abed and the adults had eaten, the twins opened a more serious conversation by explaining Aragorn’s request to understand more clearly the way the Shire was changing. The discussion went on for a while before the older hobbits flagged, and Sam was left with Rose, Merry and Pippin, and the elves, who glanced at one another before Elladan spoke.
“There was one other question our sister wanted us to ask you, Sam. Have you ever dreamed of Frodo in Aman?”
Sam sighed and shook his head. “No. I dream of him as he was, sometimes, when he went on the ship. And a few times I’ve had a dream that I reckon must be of Aman, a great mountain by the sea, all filled with light, and when I wake up I feel he’s safe and happy, despite missing us as we miss him. But I’ve never seen him there.”
“You haven’t told that to Estel.”
“Nor Pip and me, Sam.”
“What could I say, Merry? It’s only a feeling, and it’s what we all want to believe. I told Rosie because I reckon she’s a right to know of the good dreams, same as she’s no choice but to know of the bad, and I’ve said to you both and to Strider as I do believe it. But I don’t know, no more than anyone, and it don’t prove nothing.”
“But maybe it does, Sam. Does the great mountain have three lesser peaks on the seaward side?”
“A great and shining hall upon its summit?”
“And a city of the Teleri at its base?”
“I don’t know if it’s of the Teleri, but yes, I saw a city one time, a port with ships, and the three peaks every time. I don’t see no hall, though, just a great blaze of light. You know it?”
“It is Taniquetil, Sam, where Lord Manwë dwells with Lady Varda. All Calaquendi dream of it sometimes.”
“And Glorfindel often.”
“But our Adar taught us that Lord Irmo will not show it nor any part of Aman in the dreams of any Secondborn without Lord Manwë’s permission.”
“So if you have dreamed of Taniquetil and felt comforted when you woke, it is a true dream.”
“And a true comfort. The Valar are often silent, but they do not lie. So Frodo is indeed safe and happy.”
“Halladan is coming to your wedding, Pippin, is he not? Then we will ask him to bring the Palantír, and ask you to tell Estel yourself of these dreams, Sam. He grieves yet for Frodo, and his mind will be greatly eased.”
Sam’s wonder and relief were laced with fresh distress. “I’d have told him if I’d known.”
“Or if he had thought to ask, as our sister did.”
“It is a joy, not a blame.”
“And there is no bar so far as we know to any in Aman dreaming of aught in Arda.”
“So we may hope Frodo will dream of tonight, and rejoice with us in Elanor Elvellon.”
“Who really should go with you to the other Moots.”
Protesting, however fruitlessly, got Sam over his immediate sense of guilt, and a sense of surety about Frodo was a boon, but knew he owed Strider an apology for calling him a ninnyhammer when he’d been being such a noodle himself.