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It was the evening of Midsummer in the year 1427, by the Shire Reckoning. The Free Fair was sprawling across the hills of the White Downs, but in the main square of Michel Delving, a special stage had been erected (as was done every seven years), and a sea of chairs surrounded it, every one of them filled, leaving hardly any standing room.
The Free Fair was, of course, still in full swing for those hobbits that wished to receive their news a bit later, even tomorrow perhaps. The main crowd in the heart of Michel Delving were those that wanted their news the moment it was announced, or they were, of course the Mayoral candidates.
As had been custom for as long as any hobbit present could remember, two weeks before Midsummer's Day, every seven years, most every hobbit of age clustered to their local ballot box to cast their vote for the next Mayor of the Shire. There were some that didn't vote, feeling one candidate was just as good as any other, but this year a special stirring had roused the heart of nearly every hobbit to cast their support for one particularly special candidate.
Frodo of course had voted, and was in fact sitting in the front row, and next to his favorite candidate, Samwise Gamgee (or so he was now known, after years of tending to the Shire with Lady Galadriel's box of earth from Lórien: Master Gardener). Though, Sam by now was much more than merely the candidate Frodo had voted for, as little Elanor could attest to, sitting on Frodo's other side.
The neighbors had been baffled for the longest while after she'd been born, when Frodo and Sam announced simply she was their heir, and they would raise her together as their daughter. She did present a grand curiosity, having flaxen hair even lighter than Sam's, but clearly with his nose and his freckles dotting her face. Though, perhaps the most notable thing about her, were her eyes; Frodo remembered hearing murmurs that “Only one other hobbit's got eyes that big and that blue in the whole West Farthing.” and by then they were virtually found out.
It was complicated – especially when explaining it to the neighbors – but simply enough, she was in fact their daughter, and no one else's. She had a mother of sorts – being one of Lady Galadriel's handmaidens, who had carried her – but of blood relation, she was wholly Baggins and Gardener.
Frodo recalled this with an indescribable feeling swelling in his heart, as old Will Whitfoot – or Flourdumpling, as he was still affectionately called, even now – stepped up onto the stage, and a hush fell over the crowd. There was a round of applause and cheers as Will waved to them all, after which Frodo took a hand each of Sam and Elanor's into one of his own, and gave them a gentle squeeze. Sam squeezed back, and offered Frodo a quick, nervous smile, while Elanor snuggled up to Frodo's side and yawned, trying to keep herself awake.
Though speeches are not the favored thing of many hobbits, those gathered were willing to stand it, seeing as this was a special, and somewhat sentimental occasion. “My dearest fellows,” he called, speaking loud enough so even those at the back and very edges could hear, “as you all know, this is my last hour serving as the Mayor to you fine folks.” a quieter cheer than before echoed through the square. “As I announced last year, I am retiring!
“I must say, these past three terms have been all too short a time to spend in such excellent company.” another cheer, and Frodo suspected Will would not end his speech by potentially insulting his guests, as Bilbo had done infamously more than twenty years ago at his last birthday party. “Though at times it has been tiring – such as when the Town Hole collapsed,” laughter rippled among the audience, “and the nickname 'Flourdumpling' has followed me ever since; and also when... When that Sharkey and his ruffians came and set up their Lockholes, and the Battle of Bywater,” this was met with a solemn silence, “– it has also been a great pleasure to look after you all.
“I'm proud to have done what I could for each and every one of you; to have done my best to keep our beloved Shire the land we've always known it as.” he took out a tissue and began to dab at his eyes.
“I know there have been times I was able to do less than I – and others too – would have hoped I could. To this day I regret not stopping Lotho's... ruination, of our homes, and not being able to do a blasted thing during that Battle. I am sorry to each and every one of you that lost something dear during that time, and on that day.” in the silence that followed his words, he blew and wiped at his nose with his tissue.
“Though I've now done what I could to rebuild what was torn down, and return our land to the way it ought to be, I can't say it was done alone. Chiefly, I must give my thanks to Mister Frodo Baggins, Master of the Hill in Hobbiton, for taking up the role of Deputy Mayor after the Battle, until I was recovered enough to return to the spot myself.” Sam pushed Frodo's hand up into the air, and shyly he waved to the audience behind and around him, to a resounding cheer that nearly made him cry.
“Also, were it not for him, we at present would not have our lovely library, here in Michel Delving,” he gestured across the square, to the stately building behind them, “nor our fine exhibit on the War of the Ring in our Mathom-house.” he nodded to the building across the lane from the library, and another cheer echoed through the square.
“Secondly,” Will raised a hand to quiet everyone again, “Mister Samwise Gardener, Muh- ehm, of- of the Hill in Hobbiton,” Will had taken a crumpled note from his pocket, and looked questioningly down at Sam for an explanation, to which Sam could only give a lopsided smile and shrug, “for his marvelous replanting and restoration efforts across the land, after the ruin of the ruffians!” Frodo pushed Sam's hand up this time, and a cheer even louder sounded across the plaza. “By his knowledge and skill were our dear trees, flowers and fields all brought again to thrive.
“And, as most of you ought to know, he is also one of the candidates this year.” more cheers, which Will proceeded to quiet.
Thereafter, he offered his thanks to Captains Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took (who sat in the same row as Frodo, further beyond Elanor), for their military excellence at the Battle of Bywater, and for their continuous spread of knowledge throughout the Shire of the outer world (all of which, of course, was met with fanatic and delighted applause).
Finally, Will thanked the Four Travellers all at once for their efforts, and generosity with their skill and wisdom, placing them far and above his own contributions to the Shire as Mayor. The square echoed sympathies to Will after the cheers died down, and even a few jests to improve his mood, saying he was at the least funnier than all four Travellers combined. By then, Will squared himself up and waved off the laughter, before procuring a crisp, white envelope from his pocket, sealed in red wax with the Mayoral stamp.
“And now, now that we've well declared I've done the best I as Mayor can, I've been given the great honor of passing the title right on myself, I hope very much to someone more able than I.” In respect, he took off his hat, and tucked it under one arm, and one of the Mayoral aides hurried up beside him.
“Would our candidates please come up on stage?” she called, holding a list in her hand, but obviously having no need of it. “Samwise Gardener, Isobold Brockhouse, and Marina Banks.”
Cries of well-wishes, good luck, hope and candidate pride erupted through the crowd as the three named hobbits began weaving their way up to the stage. Sam bent down to his father (who sat on the side of him Frodo did not), and waved to his sisters, before coming down the row to squeeze or touch Frodo, Elanor, Merry and Pippin's hands as he hurried up to the stage.
Elanor, more wakeful for the continuous cheers and excitement of her father being called up, tugged on the lapel of Frodo's weskit. He bent down so he could hear her, and she asked, “Dad is going to win, isn't he, Atya?”
Frodo said in turn, to her ear, “I don't know, yet. I think so, but he might not.”
“How come?”
“The others might have gotten more votes.”
“But why? What've they done more special than Dad?”
Frodo tried not to sigh, considering for a moment he could explain everything Sam's opponents had done for the Shire, but Elanor was five. She was very clever, but at the moment there was little more she wanted to hear than her father was going to win. “I'll tell you if Dad doesn't win.”
Elanor's face looked curiously divided, as of a sudden she was presented with the offer of more knowledge, but only if her father didn't win; and of course, she did want him to win.
Her eyes – which looked already almost too big for her face – were wide as she looked up at the stage, but a few moments after seeing her father bowing and waving up there, looking shy and excited, she forgot her division and started cheering as loudly as she could for him.
Frodo was slightly less impassioned than she, but he nevertheless cheered and applauded for them all, especially Sam. He felt no particular anticipation or anxiety, however; for a long while, now, there had been a feeling in his heart this was meant to be. Not necessarily all of it – that he should still be in the Shire, and still known and loved, with an arm around his daughter by Sam – but this moment. This one thing, of Sam standing there on the stage as Will opened that envelope. This, he'd known for years, would happen, whatever else should occur around it.
“Well,” Will announced, the crowd utterly silent, “I would fancy to make this a bit dramatic, you know. Make the odds look even between these fine folks, along with the decision about just who should come after Old Flourdumpling.
“But, the numbers don't just hold it. With near enough to a tenth of the vote, we have Isobold Brockhouse,” there was a short applause as Isobold nodded, accepting his defeat gracefully, “a nice near-eigth of it goes to Marina Banks,” she too nodded, and bowed with grace, before all eyes turned to a beet-red Sam, “and last, but obviously not in the least at all! We have your new Mayor, Samwise Gardener, with a smashing 80% victory!” An explosion of screaming and cheers drowned out Will further saying, “A landslide, if I do say so myself.”
Everyone on stage shook Sam's hand and patted him on the back in congratulations, while he waved first shyly, then with pride to a crowd giving him a standing ovation. At her askance, Frodo had picked up Elanor, and they both waved back to Sam in kind, while Frodo cried.
He'd not felt a great deal of suspense through it all; rather, it was just expectation. He knew this was going to happen, with few doubts. What doubts he'd had were once whether or not he'd be here at all to see it. Whether he would still feel as well as he did, or be healed, or love Sam so, to now be holding their daughter.
He was moved to tears with joy that he was all of those things.
As Will settled the audience a final time, and everyone sat back for a handful of formalities, Elanor noticed Frodo's tears before he could wipe them away, and took a little kerchief from her pocket and began dabbing at his nearest cheek. He managed a quiet laugh, and quickly helped her wipe the rest of the way before composing himself, and clapping appropriately when Will handed the keys to the Town Hole to Sam, as the first official badge of his office.
Thereafter, with Will pronouncing Sam at last the new Mayor of the Shire, there was a last resounding cheer before those on stage disembarked to lead the way to the celebratory feast back at the Fair fields. It surprised Frodo when on the way, Sam paused to put an arm around him and keep him there – veritably at the center of attention – the entire way back. Sam's father and siblings were given a wide berth to flock after him, and Merry and Pippin followed near as well, making for quite the head of the procession. Elanor was intermittently shifted from Frodo's arms to Sam's, and seemed to take even more delight in answering questions of the few journalists that came up to pester them than Sam did.
An entire pavilion – even larger than the one that had surrounded the Party Tree so long ago – covered a great span of the field, along with dozens of tables laden with food and drink. Sam was accorded the highest seat of honor at the largest table, and seated Will at his left hand with Frodo on his right. After that, Merry, Pippin and Sam's family variously filled the table wherever there was room, and though Elanor did have a seat on Frodo's other side, she much preferred being in either his or Sam's lap. She seemed even more aglow than Sam to have so much attention around them, which near enough was fine with Frodo. He answered questions and joked and toasted when appropriate, but speaking little was perfectly adequate for him.
The night drew on through many courses of dinner, desserts and toasts, and by the end Elanor was asleep in Sam's arms.
From the drink and abundance of fine food, everyone was slow to rise and make their way back to their inns, while Sam and Frodo chose to accompany Will for a brief tour of the Town Hole. Carefully, Elanor was passed to Merry to take on to bed, and the Travellers and their families parted temporarily at the square. “We'll stay up 'til you get back,” Merry promised, to the gratitude of both Frodo and Sam.
The Town Hole was rather dark by now, as Will prompted Sam to unlock it and take a look around, but soon enough they lit a few candles to ward off the shadows. The foyer was much the same as Frodo remembered it, the building itself being rather lofty for hobbits, yet all the furniture, bookshelves and paperwork somehow making it seem cramped nevertheless. Will introduced them to several smaller offices that belonged to Sam's new subordinates, before taking them on to the back of the building.
“And this, for quite some time, was my office,” said Will, gesturing to the largest interior door they'd so far seen, “and now it's yours, Master Samwise.”
“Thank'ee, Will,” said Sam, very softly. For a long moment, he touched his fingertips then his full hand to the door, lost in thought and emotion, before he finally unlocked it and pushed it open.
Now, it was much emptier than Frodo remembered. Once, Will's knick-knacks had lined the desks and shelves, and plainly made it look untidy, but now all decorations were gone from there and the walls, leaving a simple but sturdy desk in the middle of it, with a chair, and many full bookshelves. “You'll get the rundown on the filing system tomorrow, I expect,” Will said to Sam, “but the upside is no one minds much what you put up, so long as all the papers are orderly. Blimey, you could even get a new desk and chair, if you fancied.”
Will offered Sam a slightly longer crash course in what to expect as far as paper sorting went, before bidding them goodnight. “Just lock up when you're ready to clock out, as it were,” said Will, his footsteps soon vanishing back down the hall.
This left Frodo and Sam alone in the room, which soon enough Sam would be occupying on a relatively frequent basis. He touched the table experimentally, before leaning against it, and looking up and all around. “T'is a lot that's just happened.” he said into the quiet.
Frodo came up, settling near him, and nodded. “Rather, though little we weren't expecting, in the end.”
Sam looked at him, and gently reached for his left hand. “Are you really all right with it all?”
“Of course; I've had quite a long time to come to whatever terms I needed, and those weren't many. I am quite all right with this, so long as you are. You shall be a wonderful Mayor.”
Sam did not look all together convinced. “Are you still getting those visions?”
“No, not anymore,” Sam put an arm around him, and pulling him into a hug, “not fully since Elanor was born. Not even in dreams. A... feeling, on occasion, perhaps, but nothing like it was, during... during the Quest.”
Sam tucked his nose into the crook of Frodo's neck, and began lightly stroking his hair. “Meaning you're all healed, and'll be staying no matter what.” Those words could've been made to sound like a question, though Sam insistently forced them into a statement, or better yet a declaration.
“Yes, Sam,” said Frodo, squeezing him gently, “and even if I weren't and wanted to leave, I wouldn't, and couldn't. I would never leave you and Elanor, and for her there would be no place left for me on any ship across the Sea, anyway.
“Even disregarding those things, I don't want to leave. You-” Frodo rested his mouth against Sam's shoulder, feeling tears anew coming to his eyes, “you have no idea what it was like, standing there and seeing you announced Mayor. I- wondered sometimes if I would still be here, and now that I am, I wouldn't give this up for the world. I-” Frodo held to Sam tighter, and the latter began to gently rock them in their embrace, “I'm so proud to see you becoming everything I knew you would be, and so happy I can still be here with you.
“You took the parts of me that were broken into a thousand tiny pieces, and put them all back together again, just as they should be. And- now I'm here, and we've Elanor, and the library, and you're Mayor, and... and I have you,” Frodo pulled back from Sam's shoulder to nuzzle him, bringing them forehead to forehead, “my Stouthearted Samwise. You saved me, and- I love you, so much, I-”
Sam gently wiped away Frodo's tears. “Meleth nín. I have you, too. There's no more need for tears,” Sam himself wept as he said this. “This is our happily ever after, like Mister Bilbo's There and Back Again. We're all right.”
There was once a time Frodo thought he would never know a happily ever after, or even if he did, he would not have been able to call it happy. He stood in Sam's arms, now, after all they'd been through. They were together still, in the Shire they loved, and would be for the rest of their days.
Frodo couldn't stop his tears, but he claimed Sam's mouth with his own, kissing the Mayor desperately hard in his own office.
This was their happily ever after, for everything they had been through. It was real, and deserved, and it was theirs, for all of their lives.
At that moment, in spite of his tears, Frodo felt that he was the happiest he ever was or could be, in any life.
When they paused for breath, and to try to dry the other's face, Sam sniffled and managed to say, “I'm thinking first off I'd like a portrait of you n' Ellie for me desk. So I'll always have you near, somehow, even when you aren't proper here.”
It sounded more a cough than a laugh, but Frodo never the less chuckled, and affectionately nosed Sam. “I think that can be arranged; quite soon, even. The Fair's still on tomorrow.”
Still tangled in one another's arms, they spoke for a few minutes longer about what things they thought Sam ought to have in his office, before Frodo struggled to stifle a yawn, and Sam declared they ought to be going to bed. “By now Ellie's got more sense than us to already be there. And here the office'll be 'til the morrow, so I don't think we're missing out on nothing.”
“No,” Frodo relented, hugging Sam's arm as they left the Town Hole and locked up, “not for tonight.”
They relieved Merry and a dozing Pippin from minding after Elanor for them, and bid them a grateful goodnight before settling in themselves. Elanor awoke briefly as they readied for bed, and rather insistently crawled in with them, to hear again what Lady Galadriel and the woods of Lothlórien were like.
Frodo had just finished telling her it was said the Lady's hair held in it the light of one of the Two Trees, Laurelin, when he and Sam realized Elanor had fallen asleep between them. They hadn't the heart to put her back in her own bed, and so like a litter of kittens, they snuggled up against one another.
Frodo and Sam fell asleep hand-in-hand, Elanor for the moment curled up between them, her face pressed contentedly against Frodo's chest. Tears stung his eyes a final time as he drifted to sleep. Here in his arms he held more love than any one creature could ever hope to be graced with; he was home, and loved, and one and whole.