Looking for Aunt Lula by Kathryn Ramage

Sam went back up the Hill to find Rosie was up and laying out the plates, cup and teapot, and silverware for Frodo's breakfast on a tray. "I wondered where you'd got to, Sam," she said when she saw her husband. "I looked all over for you, and when I saw Nel was gone too, I thought as you must've taken her out for a walk, though it seemed an odd thing so early in the morning."

"I had to go see about Dad," Sam explained.

Rosie nodded in understanding. Sam left the baby with her, and took up Frodo's tray to carry it in to him.

Frodo had come home from Buckland several weeks ago. Sam had stayed with him at the Crickhollow cottage until the end of March, packing up Frodo's belongings and seeing the boxes carted ahead to Bag End so that Rosie could have Frodo's bedroom and study ready for him when he arrived. Once they'd returned, Frodo had settled into his old rooms and old ways comfortably--as if he'd never been away a whole year, Sam thought with satisfaction.

It was a relief to have Frodo home again, not only because Sam loved him and missed him achingly, and was never happy if Frodo wasn't in his care, but because it hadn't seemed right to him that he and Rose should live here as if Bag End were their home while the true master was away. After Frodo had first gone to Minas Tirith, they'd acted simply as caretakers; it wasn't until Sam had been appointed as Chief Sherriff and the fine folk of Hobbiton and the Mayor's family began to call that they'd dared to use the best parlor and dining room. Frodo wouldn't have minded if they'd made themselves at home in these rooms before, but Sam thought it disrespectful. Getting above their place, the Gaffer would say. Nor was he entirely comfortable when Rose, who had a better head for figures than he did, had started using the desk in Frodo's study to work out the household accounts.

When Sam tapped on the slightly ajar door to Frodo's room, Frodo bade him, "Come in!" and sat up in bed to let Sam put the breakfast tray over his knees.

"I've heard you were out already this morning," he said, "Rosie popped her head in to see if you were with me, even though it wasn't your night last night." Since Frodo's return, they had resumed their old arrangement of 'sharing': Sam would spend one night in Rosie's bed, then sleep with Frodo the next. "Is anything the matter?"

"It's the Gaffer." Sam sat down at the foot of the bed and, while Frodo ate his breakfast, told him what had happened that morning: his father's sadness and sleeplessness over memories of his mother, Marigold's difficulties, and what both had asked him to do.

He'd been reluctant to trouble Frodo with his family problems, but Frodo seemed sympathetic and interested in their situation. More importantly, he seemed fit to take up another investigation. Frodo had said that he was still in pain because of what the Ring had done to him. Sam had to accept this was true, but all the same, he had his hopes. He'd watched Frodo carefully these past weeks, and saw no signs of Frodo's old weariness. Frodo was better. He was in reasonably good health and spirits. He had color in his cheeks and the soft purple shadows under his eyes had faded. He even had an appetite; he was actually eating his breakfast, rather than poking it to bits and moving the mess around his plate, the way Sam had seen him do so often before.

Frodo had weathered his worst day, the anniversary of the Ring's destruction, much better this year than he even had before. Sam had sat beside him all during that day while Frodo lay in a half-dream state, weeping and moaning, and clutching the gem Queen Arwen had given him, but the gem seemed to give him comfort. The brew of athelas leaves Sam had prepared to bathe his face had helped him to sleep. Frodo had recovered more quickly from his bad spell than he had in years past, but Sam made him rest a full week afterwards, especially since Frodo was also recovering from a nasty crack on the head, before they'd undertaken the fifty-mile journey to Hobbiton.

"Of course I'll be happy to try and find this lady for you," Frodo said once Sam had explained. "But I don't believe I've heard of her before. Who was she?"

"You wouldn't've known her. She left Hobbiton long afore you came to live with Mr. Bilbo. I was only a little lad myself. She was with us awhile after Mum died. 'Twas a fever," Sam told the story, although Frodo had heard it before. "Marigold had it first, then Daisy. Mum nursed 'em through it right enough, then came down with it herself and was carried off so quick nobody knew how sick she was 'til it was too late. After she died, Aunt Lula saw after us little ones, the girls 'n' me. My brothers was almost in their tweens--Ham was 'prenticed to Uncle Andy and Halfred went up at Farmer Goodenough's in the Northfarthing not too long afterwards."

"And she looked after you?"

"That's right. We called her Aunt Lula. We called all the ladies who came 'n' went looking after us Auntie This-or-That. Her right name was Missus Tredgold."

Frodo, who called at least a dozen older female relations "Auntie," nodded in understanding.

"Lots of neighbor-ladies was in 'n' out of Number 3 in those days," Sam remembered. "You wouldn't think my old Dad'd be much of a catch, but plenty of 'em had an eye on him after Mum died. Widow Rumble's had her hopes since her own husband passed on, as she was the one who had the care of us most after Aunt Lula went away, 'til May and Daisy was old enough to look after Marigold and me."

"Was this Lula married?" asked Frodo. "You said 'Missus Tredgold'."

"I suppose she was," said Sam, although he couldn't actually recall a Mr. Tredgold. "'Twas such a long time ago."

"Then she couldn't have had marital designs on your father at the time," Frodo responded. "But it was, as you say, a long time ago. She might be widowed now too."

"D'you think it's like that?" Sam was startled at the suggestion. "The Gaffer didn't say nothing about marrying her."

"Yes, but he seems to remember her fondly. If she's the one he wants to have with him now, he must have some special reason for it." Frodo raised an eyebrow as he regarded his rather perplexed friend. "Are you certain you want me to find her, Sam?"

The idea of his aged father having any kind of fond feelings for a woman besides his mother was disturbing--even at this late date!--but Sam was forced to admit that it was better to have someone the Gaffer had chosen to look after him. And it would give Marigold her own chance at happiness. "Yes," he said. "If it's what the Gaffer wants, then we'd do best to find her."
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