Marigold Gamgee came up to Bag End early one morning to see her brother. "It's Dad," she told him. "He's on about Mum again."
Sam was in the middle of feeding his daughter Elanor her breakfast. He often got up early with the baby and let Rosie sleep in since Elanor had been weaned and was taking solid food--was eager to take it, as a matter of fact, and would grab the spoon from his hand or scoop the porridge out of the bowl with her fingers to put in her mouth herself. Frodo, too, was asleep in his room. Sam didn't want to disturb their rest, but couldn't leave the baby unattended, so he wiped the blobs of mush off the pudgy little face and hands, and took Elanor with him.
"When I got up this morning, there he was by the fire where I'd left 'm last night with his pipe," Marigold told Sam as they went down to the bottom of the Hill to the Gamgee bungalow in Bagshot Row. "The kitchen was so full o' smoke, I'm sure he never stirred from his chair since I bid 'm Good-night, nor had a wink o' sleep. He wouldn't have no breakfast when I offered to make it for 'm, but just sits there a-staring at the fire. He's been remembering Mum."
Sam was familiar with these odd, gloomy moods of the Gaffer's, but it seemed that they were coming on more frequently as he grew older and dwelt more upon his past. Bell Gamgee had been dead for more than thirty years, but sometimes the memory of her--and the grief at her loss--were as vivid for the Gaffer as the day she'd died.
"It'd be better if I could talk to him about her when he gets to remembering this way," Marigold went on, "but I don't remember Mum at all."
Sam had only been six himself, and his own memories of his mother were vague. The elder Gamgee children, who could talk to the Gaffer about the old days, lived too far away to be summoned at a moment's notice; the nearest was their next-oldest sister, May, who lived in Bywater. Leaving Marigold, the only one of the family still at home and unmarried, to care for the Gaffer was something Sam had always felt guilty about since he'd left Bagshot Row to live with Frodo at Bag End. It wasn't fair that his youngest sister should have this duty alone.
The Gaffer was sitting in the smoke-filled kitchen, just as Marigold had left him, and did not turn from the fire at the sound of the door opening as his son and daughter came in. Bringing the baby turned out to be a good idea, however, for at the sight of her grandfather, Elanor called out, "Gaffa!" and stretched out both arms toward him.
At the child's voice, the Gaffer looked up, expression brightening. He held out his hands, and Sam let his father take Elanor to sit on his knee.
"Image 'o Bell, she is," the Gaffer said as he gently ruffled the baby's fair curls.
Sam, who thought Elanor was the image of Rose, didn't contradict this. If his father was cheered by a fancied resemblance to his mother, then Nel could look like Mum for a bit.
"You wasn't much older'n when she passed on, lass," the Gaffer told Marigold. "I been seeing her, just as she was the day we wed. She had a crown o' flowers round her head, and we danced on the field where the party tree stands. I brought her here to this bungalow, as was new-dug in old Mr. Bilbo's day. She was a lovely thing. My Bell..." He fell silent, musing on those long-ago days, and holding the baby close.
"Marigold tells me you been up all night," Sam ventured. "'Tisn't good. You ought to go to bed, Dad. You need your rest."
"Go to bed?" the Gaffer responded. "At this hour? 'Tis daybreak, Sam my lad, and there's work to be done. I can't go lying a-bed all day when I promised Missus Muscote I'd have them new bulbs planted in her front garden."
"That can wait," Sam answered. "Or if it can't, I'll do it."
"You got your own work, Sam-lad, now you've come up in the world with your shirriffing, and there's Mr. Frodo home and the garden at Bag End."
"There isn't much call for shirriffing just now, and the garden's fine. Mr. Frodo's better'n he was since he's been away. Now you lie down a couple hours, Dad. Marigold'll get you breakfast, and I'll come back to help with Missus Muscote's planting or anybody else you like. I'll bring Nel back too, to sit with you this afternoon. Would you like that?"
The Gaffer made some more half-hearted, fussing remarks about this foolishness and his gardening jobs, but at last, he relinquished the baby to Marigold and let Sam take him into his room. The old hobbit lay down on his bed without taking off his clothes and shut his eyes. Sam crept quietly out of the room and rejoined his sister in the kitchen.
Marigold had opened the windows to let in some fresh air and, since she'd called Sam away before his breakfast, had put some bacon and eggs on the griddle for him. Elanor had been given a piece of crisp toast to chew on.
"What'm I to do, Sam?" Marigold asked as they ate. "Dad's getting on, and somebody's got to be look after him. You know how me 'n' Tom have an understanding, but I keep putting 'm off."
"You mustn't let it stop you marrying," Sam told her. "The Gaffer'd understand, and won't stand in the way."
"No, but I can't promise to marry Tom and go live at the Cotton Farm and leave Dad here alone when he needs me, nor can I ask Tom to come and live here."
"Tom'd come if it meant you could get married soon," Sam told her; he had heard the other side of this same problem often enough from his friend and brother-in-law.
"I expect he would, but he's needed at the farm. Mr. Cotton's getting on too, and Nibs and Jolly can't take on all the work."
"There's Rosie 'n' me. We're right up the Hill if the Gaffer should need us. We'd have 'm up to live at Bag End with us, if he'd come," Sam offered. "Only, he wouldn't. Besides, Widow Rumble's right next door. She'd come in a trice if sommat should happen."
Marigold made a face at the mention of their neighbor. "She'd come 'n' live here. Old Missus Rumble's had an eye on marrying Dad since Mum died."
"You needn't worry for that. A fine woman, but I wouldn't marry her, Marigold-lass," the Gaffer spoke from the doorway. "If I was a-going to marry again, I'd've done it when you was small had need of a mother to take the place o' your own. 'Tis no easy job bringing up six young-uns alone! The only woman I'd have in this house now is Lula."
"Aunt Lula?" Sam responded to a name he hadn't heard spoken in years. "D'you know where she is, Dad?"
The Gaffer shook his head. "I han't heard a word from her in ages, lad. Ye'll have to find her."
Marigold turned to her brother hopefully. "That's just the sort o' job Mr. Frodo used to do. D'you think he would, Sam?"
Sam didn't know if Frodo would agree to take up an investigation--his last investigation within his own family had been very hard on him, and he'd been working on the final chapters of his book since he'd returned to Bag End--but this search was important to both the Gaffer and Marigold. Sam couldn't refuse their request. "I'll ask," he told them. "'Tis the least I can do, and we'll see what Mr. Frodo says about it."
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Looking for Aunt Lula by Kathryn Ramage
Story notes: This story takes place in the spring of 1423 (S.R.), about a month after the events of "Who is Killing the Brandybucks?"
The Frodo Investigates! series
