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Das Buch

Chapter 1

August 25, 2021

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SR 1482
Fourth Age 60

        Samwise was pacing in his study as an early-Fall rain gently fell against the windowpanes, with a tang of the sea amidst the falling droplets. “The Summer end draws near,” thought Samwise, “and the days begin to grow shorter, and soon September is upon us. An end, like all ends. I am tired of ends. Through a long life I have learned that not all ends are evil, and that there ever remains the hope of something better still to come. Yet ends seem to come regularly: I still dream of the day that Frodo left with Bilbo, bound for a land most of us may dream of, but never reach.” Sam thought also of that distant land, and he wondered if he would also get the chance to seek Valinor far away. “I am not sure,” he thought. He knew that he carried The Ring for only a short time, before he gave it willingly back to Frodo, but he also remembered Galadriel’s glance at him as Frodo boarded the elven-ship with Bilbo, as both Frodo and Bilbo got ready to cross the wide sea to the straight path to Elven home. Sam remained behind. Yet now that his hope dwindled, as he paced his cluttered study in Bag End, not so clean as when Sam’s beloved Rosie was still there to pick up after him, Sam thought a lot about the past and the future…”the present holds little for me now,” thought Sam. “So I am told that many of us oldsters think thus, as our days darken, and the future is uncertain.”

        “Please do not think I am unhappy,” said Sam to himself as he continued to pace in his darkening room: “Nay, I have lived a long life and a full. When I returned from the Southlands, with The Ring destroyed, and Frodo less a finger, and Gollum fell into the fiery pit of Orodruin, and King Elessar sat upon his throne in Gondor, I thought that my adventures were over. No, it was not so. Marrying Rosie Cotton was a never-ending adventure in love and companionship, support and succor. Raising our thirteen ¹ children together was often a tale of surprise and the unexpected, joy and gladness, along with adventure.” So Samwise paced backed and forth, alternately glancing at his paper-strewn desk, or glancing out his window at the gently falling rain, listening to the patter of the drops on the panes, ever thankful that Ilúvatar bestowed upon him so many unasked for blessings.

        The truth of the matter was that Sam did not know quite what to do. As he continued his pacing in the slowly darkening room, he thought about his children, and his many, many grandchildren and now even great-grandchildren. A smile graced his face. Then he remembered his dear Rosie, gone only a few short months ago, and a tear gathered at the corner of his eye. He himself still felt hale and hearty, and he often thought that his good health and his long life might reflect that he bore The Ring even for only a short time, seeing as how possession of The Ring extended the years of its wearer. “Maybe that’s it,” he thought, as the cool rain from the Sea grew stronger, and a blustery wind rattled the windows. Samwise was always thankful that he and Rosie produced so many bright, eager, and happy children, who grew up, married, and had children and grandchildren of their own…but they had their own lives now, and were busy with the day-to-day vicissitudes of life, and the challenge of surviving, providing, and caring for their children and others in a world that was not always fair or forgiving. Sam knew that his children loved and respected him; Sam knew by now that he was venerated and esteemed not only by his own children and their sons and daughters, but by the generation of Hobbits who experienced the cleansing of the Shire, and the role that Sam played in the final defeat of Saruman. Samwise Gamgee elected Mayor of the Shire seven times! Who could have imagined that? “A funny thing, life…” thought Sam. “There seems to be time for everything, if we give thought to it; happiness and sadness, joy mixed with sorrow…all the feelings we can know, but too oft we find ourselves overlooking all the good things that we have, and dwelling on the things we would like to have.” So many thoughts, so many memories, so many images…a coruscating kaleidoscope of pictures – the Field of Cormallen, the crowning of King Elessar Telcontar in Gonder, meeting the Wood Elves in The Woody End, Imladris…the images flashed by in Sam’s head faster almost than he could keep track of them. “Too much,” he thought. “I needs return to the present, and think about my future.”

        He had not travelled south since S.R. 1442, when he took Rose and Elanor to Gondor…a long time ago. Elanor was then twenty-one years of age, and her golden hair and graceful mien caused many to think that she looked more like an Elf than a Hobbit. They stayed for year, enjoying the friendship of the King and Queen, and the honor that was bestowed upon them by the people of Gondor, who would never forget Samwise’s role in the defeat of Sauron and the destruction of The Ring. During his absence, Tolman Cotton had served as Deputy Mayor, but Sam was glad to return to his duties after his stay in Minas Tirith. Merry and Pippin had left for Rohan and Gondor, after King Eomer asked Merry to come visit him once again. After the death of King Eomer, Merry and Pippin moved on to Gondor, and were there now. Perhaps he would visit Meriadoc and Pippin, and see what was happening in the Southlands. Merry and Pippin had traveled south quite often, since Merry was Holdwine ² of the Mark, and Pippin was a Knight of Gondor, and a King’s Messenger. Sam could still do that, and he would revel in the company of Merry and Pippin, but there were still some loose ends to put in order right here in Bag End. Maybe that was the way to go…to travel once more in the company of his friends, to take the roads that go west of the Moon and east of the Sun…to walk in wonder and song, remembering the travels of Bilbo and Frodo, both long departed for Valinor.

        The rain was falling harder, and the breeze out of the west was picking up…time to shut the cracked-open windows tightly, and keep out the rain and the whirling western wind. Sam walked to the window, but before he shut it, he took a deep breath, and once again he could smell the sea air, and hear the roar of the waves crashing against the shore of Middle-earth. It was now dark outside, and Sam also felt the call of the bed that he had shared with Rosie, and which once belonged to Frodo, and to Bilbo before him. Lonesome it was, now that Rosie was gone...lonesome, but full of memories. Slowly turning around his study, glancing at the desk, the guttering candle, the shelves of books, and the maps, Sam blew out the candle on this desktop, and headed for the door to his bedroom, for the moment shutting out his deep thoughts and memories.

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