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May Day
Marigold played with her braids as she stared absently into the kitchen fire.
“But how do I know, Sam?”, she asked her brother. “Sometimes I’m so sure it’s
so, and then I think no, he’s just bein’ neighborly.”
Sam looked up from the dish he was drying and smiled at his sister. “No knowin’
until you ask , I suppose,” he answered his sister.
“Sam.” Marigold Gamgee looked over at him reprovingly. “Lasses can’t ask. That’s
why it’s harder for us.”
Sam laughed softly. “I’ve never known it t’stop a lass from getting her point
across. You’ll find a way t’figure it out, Mari,” he replied fondly.
“All the same,” Marigold sighed, her gaze turning back to the flames and her
chin coming to rest in her hands. “I just wish I knew.”
Sam put the plate down and came up behind her, placing his hands on her
shoulders. “Don’t fret so, Mari. Tom’d be a fool not to have an eye on you, and
I’ve never figured him for that.”
Marigold smiled. “Ah, Sam, you’re sweet t’say that,” she chuckled. Turning, she
eyed him carefully. “You know what tomorrow is, now.”
Sam looked at her blankly. “Day before market day?” he hazarded a guess.
“Sam!” Marigold said sternly. “Why, May Day, of course.” She turned back to the
fire. “But I suppose that don’t mean naught to you.”
Sam turned back to the drying. “What does it mean t’you then?” he asked, his
eyes not seeing the dish that he picked up.
“Just wonderin’,“ Mari answered softly. “If there’ll be anything on the door
tomorrow. “ She stared silently at the fire for awhile longer. “Maybe I should
have you wake me up early, Sam. You know what they say.” She continued to stare
dreamily into the fire.
“What’d that be?” Sam asked, turning to watch the firelight glow on her
honey-colored braids.
“If you catch your true love leaving you a May basket, then he must kiss you.”
she recited, as if from memory. Almost to herself, she added, “Then I’d know.”
Sam finished the last of the dishes and spread the cloth on the table to dry.
“If Tom has a ounce of sense, he’ll wait until second breakfast if he has to,
before putting anything on the door.” he stated firmly. “No hobbit in his right
mind will pass up a chance like that.”
Marigold laughed, and got up from her stool. “Ah, Sam, you know what the Gaffer
would say to all this.” She gave him a hug from behind as he started to bend
down to bank the fire. “All stuff ’n’ nonsense,” she declared in a mock gruff
voice.
Sam laughed fondly, his arm around her shoulders as they watched the flames die
into embers. “Love is never ‘stuff ’n’ nonsense’, Mari,” he chided her gently.
“Why, there’s naught more wonderful in all the world.”
“Truly, Sam?” Marigold looked thoughtfully at her brother’s face. “How would it
be you’d be knowin’ that?”
“Oh,” Sam gave a start. “Mayhap I’ve been listening to too many stories.” He
smiled at her and they walked towards the hallway. “I’ll be goin’ up the hill
early. I’ll wake you if you want, though.”
“Do, Sam,” she replied with an answering smile before turning to her own room.
The sky was pink-tinted and promising to be fair once the clouds burnt off as
Sam strode up the hill to Bag End early the next morning. There had been nothing
on the door yet, but he had left a hopeful Marigold up early darning socks in
the parlor. Since Tom had a sister, he ought to remember about today, Sam
reflected as he quietly opened the gate of Bag End’s garden. He might want to
check around midday, and put a word in Tom’s ear if needs be. He hated to see
Mari disappointed, and he was all too aware of what the wishing and hoping felt
like.
“Ah, but you’re daft,” he chided himself firmly, retrieving the weeding fork
from the shed at the back of the hill. It was easiest to pluck out the weeds
first thing in the morning while the soil was still damp with the dew. And then
he might have a look whilst he was at it to remind himself of what else should
be done that day. Too much to be done to be dreaming with his eyes open. There
was the matter of the flowers for the day’s bouquets to be considered however…
Ever since Bilbo’s departure last fall, this was one of the new tasks that he
had appointed for himself. Bilbo had always chosen his own flowers for the
smial, walking through the garden on occasion and cutting what pleased his
fancy. He and Hamfast Gamgee had had many long discussions over the contents of
the Bag End gardens, and as Sam took over from his father, he continued to work
under Mr. Bilbo’s instructions. Frodo seemed to enjoy the gardens as much as
Bilbo, having several favored nooks for reading, where Sam would come
unexpectedly across him in the course of a day’s work, but he left the planning
entirely up to Bilbo.
But this winter had been a long and lonely one for Frodo, as Sam well knew.
There had been several trips to his kin at Brandy Hall, and Sam was fiercely
glad that Frodo always seemed to be relieved to be home upon his return. His
young rambuctious cousins would make occasional flying visits, but there was
naught to keep them interested at Bag End for long, and they would leave Frodo
alone again. Of course that was why, Sam told himself, Frodo had taken to
inviting him to stay on occasion of an evening, sharing his supper, and reading
to him from his treasured books by the firelight long after nightfall. No more
than just keeping him company. Those memories of watching Frodo’s firelit face
and listening to his soft, expressive voice telling the wonderous tales of elves
and enchantment wound a spell around Sam’s heart that he held close to himself
in his own lonely nights.
Sam had taken to doing what he could, in his own quiet way, to make Bag End more
pleasant for Frodo. Knowing that Frodo stayed up late most nights over his
studies, Sam began preparing his breakfast mornings, so that he could wake up to
the aroma of something good in the kitchen. He kept an eye on the pantry, and
there was always tea, fresh bread, and a favorite sweet around without Frodo’s
even having to think about it. Bag End tended to look a little neater than when
Bilbo had been there, and it wasn’t Frodo’s doing. And the flowers. This spring,
beautiful bouquets of the best the garden had to offer were to be found in every
room. He knew that Frodo had noticed, and his appreciative smiles of thanks
warmed Sam’s heart through a long day’s work.
So, Sam considered, the first warmth of the sun welcome on his back. The first
of the peonies and roses, of course. And some hyacinth. Actually, he had just
left fresh flowers in each of the rooms yesterday, but this was May Day, and
that deserved something new. Deciding on and carefully selecting the best of the
blossoms, he brought them into the kitchen of Bag End and placed them in a mug
with some water while he decided where to put them and what to put them in. He
quietly hummed to himself as he walked down the hallway to the storeroom for
more tea, noting that Frodo’s bedroom door further down the hall, was, as usual,
still closed. Smiling fondly, he picked up the canister of tea. As he did so,
his eye fell upon a roll of brown wrapping paper. “May Day,” he thought
suddenly, and impulsively picked the roll of paper up. There was ribbon and
twine there as well, handy for packing up the occasion mathom. Sam took them all
back to the kitchen.
Back in the kitchen, Sam started the fire for the tea and contemplated the items
on the table. He had seen the May baskets left for his older sisters, and,
smiling at the thought, those for his older brothers as well left by hopeful
lasses. But he had never tried his own hand at one. Fortunately, Mr. Frodo still
wouldn’t be up for a while, and if the results were too sorry, he’d just leave
the flowers in a glass on the kitchen table.
Tearing off a sizeable piece of the paper, Sam’s deft hands shaped it into a
cone. Well, that was easy enough. But now came the ribbon. That was harder to
manage. He wrapped, but it seemed to want to slither away, with a mind of its
own. “Now how hard can this be,” he told himself sternly, “if great gits like
Tom Cotton can manage it?”
On the fifth try, it stayed in place, and Sam quickly tied the ends. A bit of
twine tied around the whole affair produced a handle, and Sam eyed it
critically. At least with flowers in it, one could charitably assume it to be a
May basket, even if it wasn’t a thing of beauty.
He took the flowers from the glass, and before he could lose his nerve, went out
the kitchen door, heading for the front door of the smial. Hoping that Frodo
would have occasion to look at the front door before the sun wilted the flowers,
he stood in front of the round green door with the uncomfortable feeling that he
was crossing a new threshold. “It’s just to give Mr. Frodo a bit of pleasure,”
he told himself firmly. “It’s nobut that.”
But before he could place the basket on the doorknob, the door opened and Frodo
himself stood there. He was dressed, but his dark curls were still tousled with
sleep. His expression was alert though, more so than usual this early in the
morning and he was gazing at Sam with a faint smile. “Why, Sam, is that a May
basket?” he asked softly.
Sam’s blush was immediate and fierce. A thousand denials ran immediately through
his head. “Tear the paper off quick, you ninnyhammer,” his mind instructed him
frantically. “Tell him that you just found it on the walk!” But he found all
power of speech had left him and he could only stare hopelessly at Frodo in the
doorway.
Frodo’s eyes and smile were still on him as he hesitantly added, “You know what
they say..”
Unable to withstand Frodo’s gaze, Sam’s eyes dropped to the walkway, but not
before he had seen Frodo’s expression of wistful hopefullness. With a sudden
shock, he realized that mayhap the world was not as he had once thought and not
all wonderous tales were in books. It took the greatest leap of faith that he
had ever known, but he lifted his eyes again to Frodo and replied, “Aye, that it
is. And I do know what they say.”
Frodo’s eyes suddenly lit up like all the most beautiful summer skies that he
had ever seen and there never had been a more welcoming smile on his face than
as he opened the door of Bag End wide and tenderly replied, “Then come in,
Samwise, and claim your prize, for I believe that I have caught you true.”
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