Laundry Day
Laundry Day
The autumn after Bilbo left had not been so bad for Frodo. He spent much of his time following all of his and Bilbo’s favorite walks through gentle woods of beautifully changing leaves. There were also so many things that needed to be straightened up around Bag End. Slowly, he arranged the smial more to his liking, though there were still quite a few rooms he’d not even touched by the time winter set in. Sometimes he imagined finding a lost and beloved treasure in some basement chest, but for the most part he had lost the heart to look further into any of Bilbo’s old things.
As the arms of winter closed around him, however, things had become very difficult for Frodo. He tried to amuse himself with reading, and even making a few notes on Elvish translation but, eventually, he found himself more often than not staying in bed past noon, then huddled under a blanket by the bedroom fire, listening to the icy wind that surrounded his smial. Even building the fire, tending it, along with the one in the kitchen for cooking, had become a dull chore, and meals were even worse. Bilbo was the cook of the family. Frodo simply had no idea what to make, most often settling for bread and butter or bread and cheese. He was beginning to feel stretched and gaunt.
Frodo thought of paying a visit to Brandy Hall, but somehow he preferred sitting alone to the endless bother and questions he would find there, no matter of how fondly he remembered their chef, Camelia. He would have been completely alone if it were not for the occasional visits of Daisy and Samwise Gamgee. Frodo supposed that they felt obliged to check on him, or maybe the Gaffer was sending them as a favor to Bilbo. Frodo was surprised to find, however, that he looked forward to their visits. The Gamgees were cheerful and freely shared news of Hobbiton and Bywater, and they didn’t ask many questions.
It was then early March, and Bag End was covered in a rare and heavy snowfall. It had been a whole week since Frodo had seen Daisy or Samwise, and he found himself often listening for their knock at the kitchen door at teatime, and disappointed when it did not come. Another teatime had come and gone. Frodo had even prepared a large pot and 3 mugs and plenty of his famous toasted cheese sandwiches. He glumly nibbled on one of these, and he was about to head back to his chair by the fire, when he heard a strange scraping noise outside the kitchen door. He peered through the curtains and saw Samwise shoveling the snow on his walkway up to the back entrance. He waited for the knock on the door, but the scraping was now heading away back down towards the road. Frodo opened the door and called out, rather more loudly than he had intended, “Samwise, you don’t have to do that.”
“I’m sorry, Mister Frodo, the Gaffer told me to, you see. In case you wanted to go down ta the Dragon for a supper or somesuch.”
“Alright, but I insist you come in for tea when you’re finished.”
“I don’t want to bother you, Mr. Frodo, sir.”
“Nonsense, it’s no bother, and I insist.” Frodo said, then he added, “I have plenty of my famous toasted cheese sandwiches as well.” And although they weren’t famous, and Samwise had never had them before, the young Gamgee’s face noticeably brightened and he went to his shoveling with gusto.
Soon enough, Frodo heard a very gentle rapping on the kitchen door. “It’s open,” he shouted, then when nothing happened, he said, “Come in, Samwise,” and the chilled red-faced hobbit stumbled in onto the matt, wiping his feet furiously. Frodo served them each a plate of two sandwiches and a mug of tea. Samwise ate both of his sandwiches quickly, not even pausing over the charred crusts. They spoke little, but the silence was comfortable. Samwise seemed to be sniffling an awful lot, though, as if he had a cold. Finally, he let out a huge sneeze. He said, “Begging your pardon, Mr. Frodo sir, but it’s a might bit dusty in here. The old smial could do with an early spring clean, if you don’t mind my saying so.”
“Of course. I have been planning to for some time.”
“I mean to say, Daisy n’ me would help.”
“It’s a big job I imagine. I couldn’t ask you to do that.”
“You don’t need to. Me n’ Daisy, we’d love to do it, sir… and if you make us more of these fine sandwiches, we’ll call us square.”
Frodo searched the hobbit’s face for signs of mockery and sarcasm, but only found warmth and honesty, so he smiled at the young Gamgee, and said, “Alright, Samwise, I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow then.”
“And if you don’t mind, Mr. Frodo, it’s just plain Sam if you please. No one calls me Samwise, not since my gran.”
“No one calls me Mr. Frodo either, except you Gamgees. Just Frodo is who I am, Sam.”
“Well that will take some getting used to, but I can try.”
The next day dawned bright indeed and suddenly warm. The heavy snow was quickly melting into a muddy slop. The sun was shining over a baby blue sky with only a few lazy clouds floating about. It was before breakfast when the knock came at the kitchen door. Frodo peered out to see Samwise, Sam that is, and his sister, Daisy, lugging a massive washing basin, which they then planted on his back stoop at the end of the kitchen path. Daisy went right to work frying bacon and eggs for them, while she set Sam, with Frodo helping, to dust every nook of the smial. Then they stripped all the beds of their linens, and gathered all of the mustiest clothing.
After the best breakfast Frodo had had in months, they all scrubbed the windows and floors and brought the wash out to the basin. Frodo watched fascinated as Daisy ran the wash through the ringer. Then Daisy hung everything up to dry on lines out back. The sheets looked like giant sails on sailing ships Frodo had only ever imagined. Then Daisy went home to fix lunch for the Gaffer, while Frodo and Sam opened all the windows of Bag End, and Frodo made more of the toasted cheese sandwiches he had promised Sam.
The two sat quietly and tired in the study with a small fire munching their sandwiches. It was another very comfortable silence. Frodo said, “I would like it if you came by, as often as you like.”
“Oh, I don’t want to be a bother, sir.”
“It’s not a bother if you’re invited. Your sisters, too, of course. But if they’re busy, you could just come. We could read some of Bilbo’s books. I could even teach you some elvish. If you like of course.”
“Ah, that I would, Mr. Frodo.”
“You’ll have to keep working on the Mr. Frodo bit,” Frodo said with a smile. And Sam smiled back and sat back in his chair to tackle another sandwich.