Foxglove Cottage was not simply outside Greenholm, but lay some miles beyond the town.
"We would have found it for ourselves eventually, once we talked with someone who remembered the Goodchilds," said Frodo, "but Mrs. Scuttle has saved us some work." When they'd arrived in Greenholm, they had only to call at the post office and ask for directions. The postmaster had also confirmed that, yes, a lady was living alone at Foxglove Cottage and had been for seven years, though she rarely came into town.
Frodo and Sam were riding now on the road along the Bounds, the border of the Shire. Neither of them had ever been so far west before. While the Bounds were in some places marked by a hedge or the natural boundary of a river or ridge, here a stone wall ran atop a row of downs. The narrow road beside it was where the "bounders" who kept watch on the Shire's borders made their regular patrols. Beyond the wall lay more rolling chalk downs and a single road led away toward higher green hills in the distance.
"We'll travel on that road someday," said Frodo as he gazed out at the road through the empty land. Though it was not long past midday, the sky was growing dark with gathering clouds and the wind was rising, blowing the tall, yellowish grass in ripples like waves. "Over the Far Downs, past the Tower Hills, to the Sea. You'll come with me, won't you, Sam?"
Sam, knowing what was on Frodo's mind, felt a coldness tighten around his heart, as if that day were upon them now instead of some far date in the future. Frodo would go West to join the Elves and be healed. He spoke of it often enough, to try and make Sam understand; Sam understood, but he didn't like to look forward to when it must happen, nor what would happen to him once Frodo was truly gone for good. In sixty years' time, he would be the old hobbit who sat by the fire and remembered the boy he'd loved long ago, only he couldn't talk about Frodo the way the Gaffer did about Mum. It would shock his children if he did.
He grasped at Frodo's last words. "Can I go with you?"
"I meant--Will you accompany me to the Grey Havens? Will you see me off when I go? Beyond that, Sam..." Frodo sighed. "I don't know. Perhaps you may follow, one day. I can't promise. It's not my decision. The Elves have made a special allowance for me and Uncle Bilbo to go to the Undying Lands, because we bore the Ring. You carried it too, for a little while." He glanced at Sam. "You've never felt the- ah- effects of it, have you? No pain or great loss, as if something vital had been torn out of you?"
"A bit," Sam admitted. When he'd carried the Ring, he'd felt a few flickers of temptation, visions of the powers and gifts that would be his if he claimed the Ring for himself, but in his desperation to rescue Frodo, he'd scarcely given them a moment's consideration. Worse, however, was the hesitation he'd felt in the Tower of Cirith Ungol, when Frodo had demanded he give the Ring back. Before he'd obeyed, there'd been an awful moment when he'd seen Frodo not as his beloved friend, but as a greedy and grasping creature like Gollum, ready to snatch back the precious object from his hands. The illusion had lasted no more than an instant, but Sam was sickened whenever he remembered it. Frodo had begun to ask him about those awful days, so he could write them down in his Red Book, but Sam never wanted to tell Frodo about this. Even now, it felt like a betrayal. "But naught like that. Not a minute's pain."
"You've been fortunate then, Sam. It never touched you."
"I'd rather be unlucky for once, if it meant I wasn't left behind." He'd won Frodo back, but wouldn't keep him forever.
The wind came up in a sudden gust, and they nudged their ponies into a trot, for there was a cottage about half a mile ahead on the eastern side of the road and they wanted to reach it before the rain began. If this was Foxglove Cottage, then it wasn't as fine a house as Mrs. Scuttle's. There was only a small paved half-circle area before the front door with no sign of a foxglove or other flowers, and the cottage front was cut from the exposed, white chalk of the downs.
A woman was on top of the hill above her home, working rapidly to take down her laundry from the lines strung between the trees. When she heard the clatter of ponies' hooves, she turned.
"Are you Mrs. Tredgold?" Frodo called out to her as he pulled up his pony outside the gate.
"That I am!" she shouted back. "You'd best come inside, lads! We'll all be soaked if we stand out here much longer." She turned back to yank down the last of her laundry. Sam went up the hill to aid her with carrying down the heavy basket, while Frodo took their ponies to shelter. They met again on the cottage doorstep, and Mrs. Tredgold quickly ushered them into the front hall just before the first patters of rain struck the door and windows.
"I don't see many visitors out this way," Mrs. Tredgold said once they were indoors. "What brings you lads to me?"
She was much closer to Sam's idea of an aunt. He would like to say that she reminded him of his mother, but he couldn't remember his mother's face clearly enough to say how much Lula Tredgold was like Bell Gamgee. There was, however, something in her plump, pink, and good-humored face that was like his sisters'--more like May's than Marigold's--and he thought he even saw some resemblance to Elanor. Her hair was fair, if streaked with gray, and her eyes were as blue as the Gaffer had said.
"We've come to find you, Aunt Lula, because the Gaffer's asked for you," Sam answered. "That is, Hamfast Gamgee. My father. I'm Sam Gamgee."
She smiled. "Little Samwise? Why, I haven't see you since you were a small boy, not more than six or seven, but I've heard a great deal of your comings and goings since. You're quite well known, even in these far parts of the Shire. Is this your famous detective-friend?" She turned to Frodo, still smiling. "Oh, yes, I've heard of you, Mr. Baggins. Missing jewels, and missing persons too? Come in and tell me--however did you know to find me here?"
"This is your family home," answered Frodo as Lula led them down the tunnel toward the kitchen.
"Yes, that's right." She regarded him with interest. "But none of my family has lived here in many years. This house has been my property since my parents died. It was your mother's too, Sam, so I suppose you and your brothers and sisters have a share in it. My uncle used to manage it for us. I never had an interest in living here, until my husband died. There aren't many people in the town who remember the Goodchilds anymore, and I haven't gone out of my way to tell anyone about my relation to who used to live in this house so long ago."
"We've been searching for you for several days, Mrs. Tredgold," Frodo replied. "No one seemed to know where you were, but we've heard so much about you, I made a guess where you might be now."
"We talked to my Uncle Andy, and your aunt, Edda Scuttle in Gamwich yesterday," Sam added.
Lula laughed. "I can imagine what they had to tell you about me! They've never forgiven me for my marriage, neither of them--for different reasons, of course." They entered the kitchen, and she went on as she put the kettle on the fire. "Your Uncle Andy is a fine hobbit, Sam, and he would've made many a hobbit-lass a good husband. I was sorry to see he'd never sought another bride, but he wasn't the one for me. He had no desire to go one step beyond Tighfield. Aunt Edda had another lad picked out for me, but he was so dull and respectable that I can't even remember his name. After my sister Bell married away, I felt very much alone. Then Fenrod Tredgold came to town, an itinerant peddler and tinker, with his pack on his pack. When he left, I went with him and never regretted it for an instant.
"When Bell and I were girls, we used to walk out across the downs. I used to wonder--Who knows what lies beyond? We never went more than a few miles before we grew tired and had to turn back, but I always meant to go farther one day. I wanted to see what was out there. After I ran off with Fenrod, I traveled all around the Shire, and met all sorts of people. We even went as far as Bree. Oh, those were wonderful times. But I lost my taste for wandering once Fenrod died. I had fond memories of this place, and so I came here." She turned to ask them, "Why Ham Gamgee put you to all this trouble and sent you to look for me?"
While Aunt Lula made tea, Sam explained about his father.
"We realize that it's an imposition to ask you to come to Hobbiton to look after an elderly hobbit who's no relation to you except by marriage," said Frodo, "but it would be of great help to the Gamgees."
"Not just to the Gaffer," added Sam. "There's my sister Marigold. You haven't seen her since she was a baby, but she's old enough to marry now and has a lad she wants to wed, Tom Cotton, who is brother to my own wife, Rose. Only she can't go off and leave Dad by himself and he won't leave his home to come live with us."
"I wouldn't like to stand in the way of a young girl's happiness," murmured Lula. "Very well, I'll come for awhile and do whatever I can for Ham, but I can't promise I'll stay."
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