It was a Foggy morning in mid October at Free Row in the Shire. But the fog had not come with the birds, at first light; it had appeared three days ago and had not left since. Many of the Hobbits feared to venture out into the thick mist, believing that it was a bad omen and that ill news was on its way to the Shire. “My old Gaffer always used to say that if fog this thick lasted more than a day or two, bad luck was on its way, nothing goods going to come of this frightful mist and that’s a fact or my name’s not Dolgo ProudFoot” said the old Hobbit to anyone who would listen. One of the few people who were not worried by the continually thickening fog and whispered rumours going around was Samwise Gamgee, the local gardener. For he, as usual had work to do.

It had been almost twelve years since Frodo had left, but still when ever Sam got worried about something, he’d simply say to himself “Now don’t you be worrying about such small matters Samwise, you’ve been through troubles hundreds of times worse than this with poor Mr Frodo, bless his heart, and I dare say you’ll face troubles a lot worse” and with that he would stop worrying about whatever he had to do and get on with it without so much as a second thought. But at times he did miss Frodo dearly. Mainly when he was working in his garden or had spare time on his hands.

Sam had not written much in his book, he felt almost as if he must wait for something, although he often told himself it was because his adventure was over and he didn’t quite know if he wanted it to be or not. The story of the ring had not yet miraculously reached the shire. Not even Pippin or Merry had mentioned it, although for the first five years or so after Frodo left, one of them would, at special events, occasionally remark to Sam “I wonder Sam, if this would be the right time to tell the story of Frodo and the ring…” to which Sam would always reply “Not yet, some things are best kept secret, at least until the time is right”. But neither of them had mentioned it in a while. They had only been called up twice in the past twelve years and had not left the shire for five. But they received information twice a year on what was happening in the outside world, (which they of course told Sam of) and their popularity did not seem much extinguished among the Shire folk. The messengers came both in the spring and the autumn and were expected any day now.

The other Hobbits that were not afraid of venturing out into the fog normally only left for important business, such as visiting the local Pub or buying some pipe-weed. Sam decided he would visit the pub that night, he fancied a chat. But for now he was content to weed his garden. It was near the eleventh hour but, it seamed to Sam that the fog was thinning, if indeed only slightly. And indeed it must have seemed so to the other hobbits too as a few of them were, by the sound of it, picking up enough courage to venture out and see. Sam’s spirits seemed, as if by magic, to lift slightly and a song that he had not sang for a long time came to him –

“The road goes ever on and on,
Down from the door where it began,
Now far ahead the road is gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with weary feet,
Until it joins some larger way,
Where many paths and errands meet.
And whither then? I cannot say…

The road goes ever on and on,
Down from the door where it began…”

He carried on singing for quite some time until he’d finished weeding and it seemed to him, even though he was sure he had imagined it, that he heard another voice singing the same tune. It sounded as if it may have easily belonged to Frodo. “Mum say’s Lunch is ready” said the boy behind him – young master Frodo. “Alright Frodo, tell her I’ll just be a minute.” Frodo was ten and had, of course been named after Frodo Baggins. As well as Frodo and of course Eleanor, Sam also currently had three other maidchilds (Daisy, Goldielocks and Rose) and three other sons (Merry, Pippin and Hamfast). All of his children so far had been blessed with both good character and fine looks. Eleanor was well liked among the Hobbits and Frodo was, very amply named for he was quiet and thoughtful and above average in intelligence, he was also very interested in the ways of the elves and men and Sam told him much of what he had seen in his travels (but he took care not to mention the ring). Whenever Frodo would ask about why Sam had left, Sam would always reply “I needed to stretch my legs a little” and he would refuse to say any more on the matter.
Seven in the evening came and Sam left for the pub. Upon entry he found it to be quite full. The fog had cleared well before sunset so many Hobbits had turned up to celebrate. To Sam’s surprise Merry and Pippin were also there. “Hullo Sam!” At first they sat in a quiet corner and talked for a while. “Aragon’s messengers haven’t arrived yet” Said Merry “Perhaps they had to wait somewhere a while because of the fog”. “They should be here any day, now that it’s cleared” added Pippin. “Well let’s drink to their journey!” said Sam, who was just as eager for their arrival.

Later however they were shouted over to the middle of the room by their many fans and friends. After an hour or too the topic came to Stories and many Hobbits began to boast and tell tales of what they had done and they tried very hard to out do each other. “What about you Sam?” Harlom Goodboddy asked. Merry and Pippin looked at Sam eagerly and so did much of the bar. “Well…I don’t like to go boasten or nothin like that…but, if you’ll beg my pardon for saying so Mr Frodo’s (Bless his heart) tale beats all of yours easily”. “Yes even ours” Said Merry. Now everyone was listening and the whole bar was quiet. “Well your stories are included in the tale Merry and of course yours Pip! And I had the fortune of being Frodo’s companion for part of the journey” “When you say Frodo-” said Harlom “-Why he means old Master Frodo Baggins of course, a nice hobbit if ever there was one, but very quiet” said Tom Bolger, There were murmurs of agreement. “I do not know if I should tell this tale, for nothin’ like it’s ever been heard in the shire before, and that’s a fact”. “What’s so great about your story then?” asked a young hobbit by the bar, “Oh it’s not what I would call mine, it’s the tale of mister Frodo’s journey and I just happen to play a part, but I’ll tell you this, if it wasn’t for *nice, quiet Master Frodo*, the whole world would be covered in shadow and we would all be long dead”. It seamed to everyone in the bar that all the candles flickered suddenly, as if a shadow had obscured them from view, momentarily.

“What’s this nonsense?” Asked the barman after a while, but only half-heartedly, as if he too was slightly afraid to speak. “Well, I suppose this is not the time or the place to discuss such matters, Merry, Pippin, everybody I bid you goodnight!” There was an outburst of “No! No, don’t go we want to hear the tale, Please stay”. “Very well, very well” said Sam, and he winked at Merry and Pippin. “I will stay a while”. “Drinks all round!” Shouted Pippin. “I will tell you the story, the story we have never told another living Hobbit… Pippin, Merry, you must tell your own parts at the times in the story where they would fit… Here is the tale of Frodo… and the ring of power-” Sam drew breath and pretended to notice the time “Alas Rosie would want me home! I’m afraid the tale must wait ’til the morrow at least!” There were many groans. Sam told them all to come to the tree on the spot where Bilbo’s birthday had been celebrated and to arrive there by seven o’clock the next evening and bring as many other Hobbits as they wanted. Sam was ready enough to bet that a quarter of the shire would show up, which would mean that much of the shire would hear the tale first hand, instead of the second hand version which would probably be much changed. Merry, Pippin and the others agreed to meat Sam then. Peregrin and Meriadoc left with Samwise and walked him home whilst singing happily.

Sam arrived at the tree at a quarter to seven to find many Hobbits already there, Merry and Pippin were both by the tree and they hailed Sam. Sam sat on a bale of hay that had been placed there for him at the bottom of the tree. He spoke to Merry and Pippin. “What persuaded you to tell them?” asked Pippin “I think it’s time they found out, so dear old master Frodo can get the respect he deserves…but if you two don’t want to-” “-Oh don’t be silly Sam! I can’t wait!” said Merry. Seven o’clock came and sure enough all the Hobbits from miles around showed up-at, at least a quarter of the Shire. Some had brought blankets to sit on, others, like Sam sat on hay bales. They sat around the tree, making a semi-circle around it. Sam stayed seated and Pippin and Merry stood beside him, whilst leaning on the tree which had grown tall in the past years. It was not cold and there was no sign of rain.

Soon enough there was silence. “Well now, it’s a fine turn out tale be sure, it’s an amazing thing, the speed in which gossip travels among us fine people” said Sam, some Hobbits laughed. “Well you’re all here to hear the tale of Mr Frodo and the Ring… so I’ll not disappoint you-” Over three hours later Sam finished. He, Merry and Pippin had told the tale in as much detail as possible and from the moment they started until the moment they finished the Hobbits were unable to do anything but gasp and change their expressions. Now none moved or talked, they just sat there in shock. After a few moments a Hobbit spoke “Mr Frodo Baggins… who would have thought it, ’tis true indeed Mr Gamgee your tale beats all of ours by Far….by far”. The Hobbits began to silently get up and disperse. Some paused to shake Sam’s hand, but Sam guessed that this would be much more common the next day, when everyone had gotten over their shock.