The Wait

by Rach

Part 1 - Rose

Rosie watched as the crack spread, widening across the red plate like a bloody river coming to its crest. With some little satisfaction, she found that the sight of it blocked out all the words. It was better than screaming.

It was all a lie. She knew that. It wasn't the truth of it that made her want to sleep til it was over. What she dreaded most was just the sound of it, the way the words assaulted her ears, the sweet, sympathetic words meant to heal that only pushed the knife deeper under her skin. What hurt her were the "sorrys" and the "could have told hims" and the "what can you expects" that permeated every whispered conversation. Few had courage to say it to her face and those were the ones she loathed.

If Sam had been dead, Rosie would have known it. Something would have gone out of her heart and left a hole that anyone could see. He was alive, all right, and as long as he was he would be back, and he would settle the mourners then, wouldn't he?

"He'll be back, "she murmured as they walked away. "You'll see. They'll all be back!"

Everyone believed they were dead that spring, like folks didn't have enough to talk about. It was said they were all fools to follow a mad Baggins like they had, away into the outside world where things were dangerous, and there were Big Folk everywhere.
"Of course, that is if they even got so far. Chances are they were lost in the Old Forest and simply starved to death, I'll be bound. More fools them."

"Sam's no fool, nor Mr. Frodo, either, Ted Sandyman!" Rosie retorted when he brought the matter up with her dad and brothers that night at the Cotton's kitchen table. "Remember, they had Merry Brandybuck with them and those Brandybucks know that forest, if any one does. Besides, with all the searchin' old Rory's had done in those woods, something of them would have been found by now, bones, pipe, or pack, if you had the right of it!"

"Then wolves has got 'em, like as not," the miller's son grumbled.

Rose Cotton turned around from the kitchen sink, her hands dripping white bubbles on the rough stone floor and her brown eyes raged red fire. "No wolf would get Mr. Frodo, I'll wager, or Sam Gamgee either…"

"Hush, child," Farmer Cotton rose from his chair to put his arm around his shivering daughter, mentally kicking himself for allowing the subject to be discussed in her presence. They had all expected Sam to speak this spring, before time for planting when things turned busy. He had, instead, gone off with young Mr. Baggins, of course, and not returned. "Sam'll be back soon, like as not, and settle down at Crickhollow with Mr. Frodo as was planned."

"Of course he will!" Rose spoke easily to her father, but directed her cutting stare at Sandyman. "They've gone to see the elves, I expect, but it's getting to be planting time and Sam'll not miss that! That garden at Crickhollow could use a lot of work and he'll not want to leave it too late!"

The conversation drifted off to other matters, largely that of the new Rules now beginning to trickle from the Bag End, but in Rosie's steadfast heart, there grew a resolution.

Part 2 - The Gaffer

A weak spring sun struggled over the hill that morning as Rose walked toward Bagshot Row, but a shadow creeping up from the southeast defeated it. It was already the later part of March, but the weather was still dark and cold. Deaths and rumors of death abounded and the Shire had become a dim, inhospitable place. Even the bravest daffodils refused to raise their heads toward the gloom and the garden at Bag End was filthy and barren.

Rose was on her way to keep a promise. She had made it to Sam, before he left, and intended, no matter, to keep it, to the end of her days, if it came to that. She had promised to look after the Gaffer and look after him she did, more faithfully than any of his daughters. Today, she approached the front door on silent hobbit feet, and wondered why it was open.

"The Chief says you're out and out you'll be, old man, and by tomorrow, too!" Rose didn't recognize the voice, but she was becoming all too familiar with the attitude.

"What's going on here?' she demanded as she rounded the corner into the kitchen. The tiny room was full of hobbits with feathers in their caps, but the cruel voice was coming from one of the Big Folk. Rose stepped through the door, and stood there with her hands on her hips and a terrible anger in her face. "Well, it seems to take quite a lot of you boys to separate one old man from his hole, doesn't it? Robin Smallburrow! What's going on here and what are you about setting the Gaffer out of his own house?"

Robin grabbed Rose's arm and dragged her out into the hall before any more harm could be done. "Watch your words, Rose Cotton, or you'll wind up in the lockholes and your family with you!" His voice was urgent, but not harsh. It was clear that the warning was kindly meant. "The Chief has ordered old Hamfast out and he owns this place now. You know that!"

Mistress Cotton jerked herself away a little more violently than was necessary. "Mr. Frodo never meant for the Gaffer to lose his home. It was written in the sales agreement that he was to stay as long as he lived."

"Who told you that?"

"Sam told me before he left, when he asked me to look after his dad. He said Mr. Frodo was real insistent about that part! He absolutely would not sell Bag End unless he could be sure that the Gaffer could stay!"

Robin's voice dropped, whether in fear or shame, it was hard to say. "Well, Mr. Frodo's dead now…."

"You don't know that, Cock Robin! You can't know it for 'tisn't true!"

"True or not," Robin almost hissed, "The Chief owns this land and it's out Gaffer goes and if you are a wise girl, you'll keep out of it! Times is getting' dangerous, my girl, and the lockholes is no place for a pretty thing like you. "

"They'll be coming back soon and Mr. Frodo'll have your precious Chief in the lockholes himself for breakin' contract if my Sam don't get to him first!"

"I hope you're right," he whispered, "but til that day comes, just help the Gaffer get his bits together, will you? Tomorrow, I'll come myself and take him to one of them new houses up Bywater. It won't be like this, but it'll be a place to sleep and that alone is gettin' scarce as hen's teeth nowadays." His voice changed, becoming that used between friends caught in bind together. "I hope you're right, Rosie lass, about Mr. Frodo and Sam and Mr. Merry and young Pippin comin' home. They say the Thain does nothing but huddle in his study these days, saying nought to anyone, and the Brandybucks are too caught up in the search for their heir to worry much about Hobbiton's troubles."

"Has ought else been found?"

"Not since the little camp and that's been weeks ago now. Nothing else will be, like as not. Things are goin' badly, girl, worse than you or anyone knows and unless somethin' happens right quick, Mr. Frodo won't recognize the place if he ever DOES get back! We've got to start watchin' every word now, every word. Be careful or you won't be here if your Sam does make it in!"

With that warning, he slipped into the back of the line of shirriffs leaving Number 3 Bagshot Row with much tramping of dirty boots on the clean floors.

The gaffer looked old when Rosie went back into the kitchen, much older than he had the last time she had visited just two days before. "Good mornin', Mr. Gamgee. Seems we've stirred up quite a commotion before breakfast, haven't we?"

The old man raised his eyes to hers, and shivered, more with rage than fear. "Mr. Frodo never shoulda sold Bag End. I told him so at the time. A fine young gentlehobbit he is, but this here Lotho is no better than he should be by a long road. He's gone and broken his agreement with Mr. Frodo and I'm to be thrown out on the street like a beggar!"

The young girl rushed across the wooden floor and hugged him hard. "No, dad, no! Robin's coming back tomorrow. He's going to take you to one of those nice little houses, the ones they just built up near Bywater."

"Them little shacks with not a spot o' ground between 'em? No, lass, that's not for me! This hole has been my home for too long. And what about my taters? It took me more than a seven day of hard work to get 'em in and without 'em how will I live through the winter?"

Rosie smiled, but she wasn't sure it was as reassuring a sight as she wanted it be. "Why Sam'll be back by then, th'knows! "

The gaffer raised his aged head til his eyes met Rosie's and the tear in them tore at her good heart. "Will he, lass? Times like these, I can't believe anymore… Why did Mr. Frodo leave Bag End, takin' our Sam and all?"

How many times had Rosie had the same thought, alone at night in her bedroom looking out at the stars when she should have been asleep? "Mr. Frodo needed our Sam, dad, and we both know how our Sam needs Mr. Frodo. Sam's busy doing his duty for his master, and there's nothing much more honorable than that!"

The gaffer sighed, a heavy sigh that told a tale of loneliness and many worries. "And if my Sam's busy takin' care of Mr. Frodo, who's busy takin' care o' Sam?"

She gave him the same answer she always gave herself. "Why Mr. Frodo's lookin' after Sam same as he has since they were boys! When he's done, he'll come back. They all will, and things will be set to rights again. Now, I have to go to the mill for a bit. Mother needs flour and if you don't get there early, there's none to be had these days. I'll come back later and help you with the packing. Let's see, there's a barrow propped against the northern wall. Shall I bring that around for you to carry things in?"

The old man nodded and a star began to rise in his ancient eyes again.

Part 3 - Esmeralda

The sunny smell of fresh grain hung in the air inside the old mill and Rose stopped just within the door to fill her lungs with the refreshing odor. Closing her eyes and leaning against the door frame, she escaped for a moment into a wild world of golden fields, and singing bees, and russet birds swaying in the sky. But it was only a moment's sweetness. Sad sounds pulled her back to dark skies, and muddy gardens and unrelenting longing.

"But you must have some more white flour, Mr. Sandyman, you must! White bread is all my brother will eat these days. Please, Mr. Sandyman!" The woman was tall, for a hobbit, and quite beautiful, with the grace that comes with maturity not yet touched by the frost of age. She was elegantly dressed, from her soft white kid shoes to her green flowered silk dress. Nothing she wore was made of the homespun material worn by Rose and most of the other village women. Her clothing was made of the finest material imported from far off lands and brought in by one of the few traders who roamed freely in the lands east and west of The Shire. Her sadness, however, was a thing made in the heart, the result of a pain shared by many in the Shire these days, and a grief that Rosie understood better than most.

"Mrs. Brandybuck?" Rosie inclined her head slightly, more out of respect for the matron's pain than for her station, but kept her voice acceptably low as she had been carefully taught. "Is there anything I can do?"

Esmeralda turned, sharply, and Rose could see the weight of mourning on her lovely face. "Miss Cotton! You are Rosie, aren't you, Tom and Lily's girl?"

"Yes, mam," Rosie dropped a little curtsey. Mrs. Brandybuck was gentry, after all, no matter how things were changing in the Shire. But even more, the two women shared a loss, and Rose felt keenly the connection that created. "My dad farms a fair plot down east of Hobbiton. He grows his own wheat and we bring it in for Mr. Sandyman to grind."
She turned to address the miller. "Mr. Sandyman, I'll just take some of the brown today. Mother can do well enough with that. Please take the white you did for us and give it to Mrs. Brandybuck."

"Alright, Rosie, but you have to understand. I only have so much I'm allowed to sell these days. It's against the rules now to sell more than the allotted amount no matter who's askin'."

"I certainly do understand, Mr. Sandyman, and I'd not ask you to do anything against them, silly though they may be. But that flour belongs to my dad and he'd be the first to share it with the lady."

The miller went into the rear of the mill to get the flour, and Esmeralda grabbed Rosie's free hand. "Thank you, child! What a kind heart you have! But I should know you, I think. Are you not a friend of my cousin's gardener, young Sam Gamgee?"

"Yes, mam, and to Mr. Frodo, as well, I would hope. You are Mrs. Saradoc Brandybuck, mother of Mr. Merry, who is off now traveling with my Sam."

Esmeralda squeezed Rosie's hand again, and her face was suddenly bright, like a little house at night when someone lights the lamps and the yellow glow illuminates the street beyond. "Have you heard from them? Have you had word? Where are they? How are they?"

"No, mam, I wish I had. I've not heard from Sam since the night before they left. I was hoping you had had a message, or that your father-in-law's men had come across something else in the Old Forest…"

Esmeralda crumpled like the ashes of a swiftly dying flame. "No, I've heard nothing since they left and even then there was just this note." She took from her basket a much handled piece of paper. It had been folded and refolded repeatedly, but always along the same creases and was in imminent danger of tearing.

The farmer's daughter could not read the words that were written there, but she pretended to do so. Sam had said that he would teach her when he returned and she meant to learn, so as not to be a shame to him among his friends. Though she had no way of knowing, the letter read:

Rosie carefully refolded the bit of paper and handed it back to Esmeralda, wishing she dared ask what it said. "Well, how lovely you have something to look at when you miss him so…" she said a bit wistfully.

"Yes," she returned the note to her basket with great reverence, as if it were some kind of holy writ. "I have something, but I would rather have my son, I would rather have both of my sons." She looked up and Rosie could now see that there was more to her sadness than just the loss of one son. "Did you know that I raised Frodo, as well, for a time? From the time his parents died until Bilbo adopted him, he was mine. HE was my son, too, and now I have lost them both together!" She put her graceful hands over her eyes and began weeping as though the tears would have no end.

"Oh, my lady!" Rosie impulsively threw her arms around Esmeralda's shaking shoulders. "You mustn't take on so! They're quite alright and will be back before you can turn around! Why, I'm looking for Sam any day now!"

"How can you be so sure, child? How do you KNOW that when you haven't heard from him? Please tell me how you know so that I can know as well!"

The girl looked up at the older woman. A twinkle crept into her doe brown eyes and she gave a little laugh. Was it possible that the gentry weren't aware of this diminutive truth, this thing that every poor girl knew from her first dream of a prince? "Why, my heart tells me, my lady! I can feel him there, all warm and gentle like, filling up the empty corners with the softest light you've ever seen! He's busy now, doing a job of work for Mr. Frodo, of course, but he thinks of me now and again. If he was dead, I think the lights would go out somehow. And if he is alive, so is Mr. Frodo, for if Mr. Frodo died, my Sam'd just lie right down beside him and give up his soul! If Mr. Frodo is alive, so is Mr. Merry, you can count on it! Mr. Frodo'd never let anything happen to him or Pip! Don't you know? "

"I DO still see them! I hear the door close, with a slam as Frodo always did when he came in, and I look up, half expecting to hear him call to some of his younger cousins playing in the halls. And when I'm working in the kitchen, sometimes I feel Merry come up and hug me from behind as he used to do. Then he takes me in his arms and dances me around the kitchen as he always did, to some still music only he could hear, bumping into the scullery maids and singing some silly song until it seems the ceiling will collapse!"

"That's when he's thinkin' of you, my lady. Wherever he is, he's thinkin' of you that minute, and wishin' he could see you. Mam, the heart sends messages that no hand could write, and those messages are truer and surer to arrive as well!"

Esmeralda straightened and sighed, but she was smiling now, and Rosie thought how glorious was the sight of it. "You are a wise girl, Miss Cotton! You have given me hope again, and as long as even a bit of hope lasts, despair can be postponed. Rose, would you come with me for a little while? I am staying with my brother in Tuckborough for a bit and he is extremely upset. The longer Pip is missing, the further he retreats into misery, not eating, not sleeping except for a short nap now and then in his chair. He no longer deals with matters of the farm, or even his duties as Thain! Please come with me and talk with him! Perhaps you can do for him what we can not."

"I'd be happy to try, mam, but I promised to help Sam's dad later…."

"We won't be all day! It's so early yet and the trap should be back for me at any moment. I promise to have you back in Hobbiton before tea!"

"I can only try, mam, but I am willin'. Young Tom, come here." Rose called to a child of about 12 playing nearby. "Take a message to Gaffer Gamgee up Bagshot Row, will you? Tell him I'm off with Mrs. Brandybuck to Tuckborough for a bit, but that I will be back around tea to give him a hand. Tell him that he's not to wear himself out til I get there! Off with you now!"

The minute yellow trap came down the lane, picked up its two passengers, then drove away toward Tuckborough, into the edge of the hovering, black shadow.

Part 4 - Paladin

Twice before Rose had been to Tuckborough, once as a small child on an errand with her father, and again just the summer before when she had ridden down with Sam in Mr. Frodo's carriage to return some borrowed item from Bag End. The sight of the Great Smials, however, was enough to impress any girl just off the farm.

The ancestral hall of the Took family was vast, and as wild as the clan itself. It was dug into a hillside, much as any hobbit hole would be, but like its cousin at Buckland, the Great Smials spread out under Middle Earth til it had reached the size of several of the castles of men. Standing guard before the round red door were two giants of trees, twisted into sickening shapes by the constantly swirling wind blowing off the Green Hill Country to the east. The road did not run directly in front of the door as it did on Rosie's father's farm and at Bag End. It swerved instead to the south just before the entrance and back up around to the east side. The front door was reached by way of a shale path that led from a point in southern arm of the road, between the ominous trees.

Most of the huge Took clan lived there, under the watchful eye of the Thain, head of the family and a steward of sorts for the missing ruler of the Northern Kingdom. It was an office of power in a place where such power was never needed. While the Thains were seldom called upon these days to do more than officiate at the occasional dinner party, they were known to be jealous of their title and held fast to at least the image of strength and decisiveness. Rosie wondered if the current lord had any interest at all in Hobbiton and its recent spate of troubles.

The entrance hall was gloomy and chilly, and Rose found it hard to keep from shivering.

"It wasn't always like this," Esmeralda sighed. "It was a bright house not so long ago, and full of joy. There was life everywhere, and the laughter of children caused the very walls to sing. Young Pip took his first steps right where you are standing now, and Paladin married his Eglantine across the hall in the Meeting Room."

"Where is she now, his wife?"
"She has gone to stay with her family. Eglantine couldn't stand to see her proud husband disintegrate before her eyes. The Banks send messengers daily, eager for word, so I know she still has hope. Pippin's sisters all have homes of their own, of course, and the children are now afraid to speak above a murmur. This great house has become such a soundless place!" She led Rosie on, down a long hall and around a corner to a round door that opened with a groan.

There were no lights, save the dim flicker of the dying fire dwarfed by the cavernous expanse of the fireplace that contained it. The room was even colder than the hall outside, and Rosie wondered why no one had seen fit to add wood to the fire. There was more than enough fuel stacked neatly on the hearth but barely enough embers left to catch it up. What kind of insanity was it that imitated want in the midst of plenty?

Esmeralda led her further into the room and Rosie found herself in front of a large blue chair huddling spider like in the dim corner. When her eyes at last adjusted to the faint light, the girl could the see hobbit sitting there. He was grey, or seemed so, hovering there in the shadows. His sister stirred the fire and when the tiny flame woke, Rose could see his face. Paladin was certainly handsome as hobbits go, with finely chiseled features that spoke of a long and noble heritage, and she thought how much very much his son resembled him.

"Brother, I have brought you a visitor."

The low voice grumbled as if the earth itself was speaking. "Intruder, I would call her. Take her away! We have no need of strangers here, and even less desire!"

Frustration fell on Esmeralda's fine face like a mask. "So is it now to be said in all the Shire that the Tooks are no longer gracious to their guests? This is Rose Cotton, daughter of Tom and Lily. You have known her family for as long as you have lived, brother, and now she has given up her time to come and talk to you. You can at least…."

"At least what?" He interrupted her impatiently.

"At least you can listen, Paladin! She knows what our family is going through. She is feeling the same thing herself."

The Thain of the Shire grunted like an old man half asleep. "She has lost her son and heir? She has seen the very end of her existence running through her hands like water through a sieve?"

Fear crept around Rosie's throat like an icy hand. Such despair was more than her happy heart could fathom, and more than she could ever expect to ease. She knew she had to speak, before the frigid hand could close and crush the breath from her body. "No, sir, not a son, but someone dear to me as your lad is to you." Straight she stood at this moment, for she was speaking of her Sam. "Someone precious to me is traveling with Mr. Pippin now, my lord. His name would not interest you, as I can see, but he went with Mr. Frodo and the others into the east."

"So you have lost someone as well, by my cousin's recklessness?"

Rose stiffened. "No, sir! My lord, I would never call Mr. Frodo reckless, by any road. I do know that they are still alive and I am expecting them back any day now."

Paladin stood, looking at the girl, his eyes grey like thunder clouds on a summer's evening, feral and perilous. "You have heard from your friend? You know something that was not reported to me??"

"I know only what hope tells me, my lord, but of that message, I am sure."

"Hope?" Paladin's voice began to rise with each word, mocking her bitterly. "And how does this 'hope' speak, pray? What language does it use, what means? Apparently it is something only stupid farm girls understand and I would be taught to listen so that I could know my son's fate." He stepped closer, threateningly, and now seemed to tower over Rose. With a strength fashioned of grief, he grabbed Rosie's arms and shook her until she gasped. "Tell me!"

Rose Cotton looked up into the angry eyes and set her chin. Now was the time to do her Sam proud. While fear set her heart racing, she refused to let it ever reach her face. "I listen with my heart, Lord Paladin, with my heart."

"HEART, you cursed wench, I HAVE NO heart! It died with my son in some ill-begotten wasteland where he should never have been! Curse the day he left and the Baggins who took him! Curse my nephew who led him into trouble as always and this time to his end and curse YOU for coming here to disturb my grief! Go now! Leave Tuckborough and take your benighted hope with you! There is no hope for me and my house! My line is over, the Thainship is finished! The Shire is falling and there is no reason left to fight back! There is no king and now there is no Thain to stand in his place…it is all ended…. The Shire is dead and we are merely waiting for the funerals to begin."
He released her with a shove, sank back into his chair, and retreated once more into the shadow.

Rose did not cringe or quail at his words, but stood, still looking at his face. Her answer was soft and powerful as the whirlwind. "And, my lord, what if you are wrong?'

"What?"

"What if you are wrong, sir?"

Esmeralda looked at Rosie with astonishment. No one had every spoken to her brother in this manner. No one before had ever dared to. Her courage fanned a spark in Esmeralda's soul. It was time he heard the truth, and it was time for her to speak it. "She speaks the truth, Paladin! What if your son is not dead and your line is not yet done? What if Pippin returns from his long travels? What will he find here? What would you have him receive when he comes into his title, an oversized mausoleum filled only with ghosts and restless spirits? Would you have him rule over a withered land peopled by only the mindless enslaved? What would you have him say of his father when you are gone? Shall he say that Paladin 1 frittered away his birthright in useless despair when the end was not yet fully in sight?" Her voice grew beautiful and cold and full of revulsion. "Then whether he breathes or not matters little, for you have butchered him already!"

Esmeralda stepped away, as if to depart, but turned back just as she reached the threshold.
"As for MY SON, he shall return to find his home and his lands as they have always been. He will find the Hall and all of Buckland made ready and waiting to receive him like a lost prince returning to his kingdom. He will also find himself there as well, alive, for he will never see his own death in the eyes of those he loves! That, sir, is what Meriadoc will find! My heart can only grieve for poor Pippin!" She swept out the study door with the whispered rustle of silk and the sweet scents of honesty and roses.

Still, Paladin sat in his big blue chair. Now, he stared not into the oblivion that was in his own mind, but turned to look on the farm girl from Hobbiton and wished at last to share the wellspring of her hope. He spoke slowly, as if on uncertain ground, but his voice had lost some of its burden of despair.

"Surely you think my sister sees the right of things, Mistress Cotton."

"Yes, my lord. I know it well enough."

Paladin shook his head in a gesture to indicate that all the world had apparently gone mad. "You do not respect the Thainship, do you?"

"Should I sir, when the Thain has done little of late to earn that my respect?"

The Thain rubbed his face with one hand, as if waking at last from a long sleep.
"How would you have me believe when all signs are against belief? How can I know when I can not hear my son's voice in my heart?"

Sorrow and compassion for this lonely man swept Rosie up in its grasp and set her down on her knees beside the blue chair. It placed her small brown hand on his arm, like a daughter consoling a grieving father and set in her simple, honest mind an idea, a gift of knowledge that exceeded her perceptions. "If you can not believe, then you must simply do. Belief will come later, my lord, as these things do in their time. If you are truly a steward, don't tend just the belongings of a missing king! Care for the things that belong to you as well, the things that you will one day give your son! My Sam says that if you pull the little weeds, the big ones will never trouble you. If you can not protect the Shire, set your guard on Tuckborough. See that there is one safe place, where Lotho's thugs can not trespass! Act as if your son is coming home, and soon you will see him at your door, in dreams or on the very stones themselves." She leaned in very closely to his ear and whispered. "I KNOW it!"

Epilogue

Rosie thanked the driver as he let her off in Hobbiton. The afternoon was upon them now, and she was anxious to get back to the Gaffer. If he had to be out, he had to be out, but she was not going to have him injuring himself into the bargain.

She had swung her basket with its bag of brown flour over her arm and started up the hill to Bagshot Row when the world changed, mightily and forever, and the ground on which she was standing writhed with pain. While the earth heaved with the groan of a thousand armies, the shadow from the southeast ran through the sky as though Sauron himself was chasing it. The wind rose and whipped itself into a fury, carrying with it grains of sand that sliced like shards of glass through Rose's clothing til her skin bled. For a moment, it seemed all the Shire was about to explode in a crescendo of madness and windblown evil. In the next moment, as abruptly as it had come, it was gone. The struggling Sun that Rose had spotted earlier was glowing from behind the scattering clouds and soon emerged victorious in the fight for control of the day.

"It is done. They'll be coming home now." The voice whispered the words in Rosie's heart as softly as a raindrop trickles down a new leaf, but Esmeralda heard it, too, all the way down in Tuckborough. The words pierced the heart of the Gaffer as he struggled with the rocking chair he was trying to tie to his barrow, and came to Paladin, giving orders to his estate manager in bowels of the Great Smials.

And just at that moment, Rosie Cotton breathed again. For the first time in forever, her heart laughed, a laugh that would echo through Middle Earth til all the years of Men stopped.

It was the 25th day of March, and they had done what they set out to do.