The Return of the King (The Lord of the Rings, #3)

by J.R.R. Tolkien

Frodo had been in the battle, but he had not drawn sword, and his chief part had been to prevent the hobbits in their wrath at their losses, from slaying those of their enemies who threw down their weapons.

It was one of the saddest hours in their lives. The great chimney rose up before them; and as they drew near the old village across the Water, through rows of new mean houses along each side of the road, they saw the new mill in all its frowning and dirty ugliness: a great brick building straddling the stream, which it fouled with a steaming and stinking outflow. All along the Bywater Road every tree had been felled.

‘They’ve cut it down!’ cried Sam. ‘They’ve cut down the Party Tree!’ He pointed to where the tree had stood under which Bilbo had made his Farewell Speech. It was lying lopped and dead in the field. As if this was the last straw Sam burst into tears.

‘Save your breath!’ laughed Merry. ‘I’ve a better.’ Then lifting up his silver horn he winded it, and its clear call rang over the Hill; and out of the holes and sheds and shabby houses of Hobbiton the hobbits answered, and came pouring out, and with cheers and loud cries they followed the company up the road to Bag End.

At the top of the lane the party halted, and Frodo and his friends went on; and they came at last to the once beloved place.

‘This is worse than Mordor!’ said Sam. ‘Much worse in a way. It comes home to you, as they say; because it is home, and you remember it before it was all ruined.’ ‘Yes, this is Mordor,’ said Frodo. ‘Just one of its works.

Saruman was doing its work all the time, even when he thought he was working for himself. And the same with those that Saruman tricked, like Lotho.’

‘If I had known all the mischief he had caused, I should have stuffed my pouch down Saruman’s throat.’

But you did not, and so I am able to welcome you home.’ There standing at the door was Saruman himself, looking well-fed and well-pleased; his eyes gleamed with malice and amusement.

‘Don’t let him go! Kill him! He’s a villain and a murderer. Kill him!’ Saruman looked round at their hostile faces and smiled.

‘Kill him!’ he mocked. ‘Kill him, if you think there are enough of you, my brave hobbits!’

‘But do not think that when I lost all my goods I l...

And if my blood stains the Shire, it shall wither and neve...

It is useless to meet revenge with revenge: it will heal nothing. Go, Saruman, by the speediest way!’

But even as Saruman passed close to Frodo a knife flashed in his hand, and he stabbed swiftly. The blade turned on the hidden mail-coat and snapped. A dozen hobbits, led by Sam, leaped forward with a cry and flung the villain to the ground. Sam drew his sword.

He was great once, of a noble kind that we should not dare to raise our hands against. He is fallen, and his cure is beyond us; but I would still spare him, in the hope that he may find it.’

Saruman rose to his feet, and stared at Frodo. There was a strange look in his eyes of mingled wonder and respect and hatred.

You are wise, and cruel. You have robbed my revenge of sweetness, and now I must go hence in bitterness, in debt ...

But do not expect me to wish you health and long life. You will have neither. But that is not m...

But at that something snapped: suddenly Wormtongue rose up, drawing a hidden knife, and then with a snarl like a dog he sprang on Saruman’s back, jerked his head back, cut his throat, and with a yell ran off down the lane.

Before Frodo could recover or speak a word, three hobbit-bows twanged and Wormtongue fell dead.

Frodo looked down at the body with pity and horror, for as he looked it seemed that long years of death were suddenly revealed in it, and it shrank, and the shrivelled face became rags of skin upon a hideous skull. Lifting up the skirt of the dirty cloak that sprawled beside it, he covered it over, and turned away.

‘And that’s the end of that,’ said Sam. ‘A nasty end, and I wish I needn’t have seen it; but it’s a good riddance.’

‘And the very last end of the War, I hope,’ said Merry. ‘I hope so,’ ...

But to think that it should fall here, at the very door of Bag End! Among all my hopes and fears at ...

‘I shan’t call it the end, till we’ve cleared up the mess,’ said Sam gloomily. ‘And that’ll t...

‘Who’s this young giant with the loud voice?’ he whispered. ‘Not little Pippin! What’s your size in hats now?’

She insisted on hobbling out on her own feet; and she had such a welcome, and there was such clapping and cheering when she appeared, leaning on Frodo’s arm but still clutching her umbrella, that she was quite touched, and drove away in tears.

And All’s well as ends Better!’

Battle Gardens was thought of, or BetterSmials. But after a while in sensible hobbit-fashion it was just called New Row. It was a purely Bywater joke to refer to it as Sharkey’s End.

The trees were the worst loss and damage, for at Sharkey’s bidding they had been cut down recklessly far and wide over the Shire; and Sam grieved over this more than anything else.

‘Throw it in the air on a breezy day and let it do its work!’ said Pippin. ‘On what?’ said Sam. ‘Choose one spot as a nursery, and see what happens to the plants there,’ said Merry.

Altogether 1420 in the Shire was a marvellous year. Not only was there wonderful sunshine and delicious rain, in due times and perfect measure, but there seemed something more: an air of richness and growth, and a gleam of a beauty beyond that of mortal summers that flicker and pass upon this Middle-earth.

And no one was ill, and everyone was pleased, except those who had to mow the grass.

On the thirteenth of that month Farmer Cotton found Frodo lying on his bed; he was clutching a white gem that hung on a chain about his neck and he seemed half in a dream.

‘It is gone for ever,’ he said, ‘and now all is dark and empty.’ But the fit passed, and when Sam got back on the twenty-fifth, Frodo had recovered, and he said nothing about himself.

‘When are you going to move in and join me, Sam?’ Sam looked a bit awkward.

Get married as soon as you can, and then move in with Rosie. There’s room enough in Bag End for as big a family as you could wish for.’

Sam Gamgee married Rose Cotton in the spring of 1420 (which was also famous for its weddings), and they came and lived at Bag End.

Frodo dropped quietly out of all the doings of the Shire, and Sam was pained to notice how little honour he had in his own country.

‘What’s the matter, Mr. Frodo?’ said Sam. ‘I am wounded,’ he answered, ‘wounded; it will never really heal.’

It was not until afterwards that Sam recalled that the date was October the sixth. Two years before on that day it was dark in the dell under Weathertop.

The first of Sam and Rosie’s children was born on the twenty-fifth of March, a date that Sam noted.

Rose and me had settled to call him Frodo, with your leave; but it’s not him, it’s her. Though as pretty a maidchild as anyone could hope for, taking after Rose more than me, luckily. So we don’t know what to do.’

it must be a beautiful flower, because, you see, I think she is very beautiful, and is going to be beautifuller still.’

Little Elanor was nearly six months old, and 1421 had passed to its autumn, when Frodo called Sam into the study.

‘I wish I could go all the way with you to Rivendell, Mr. Frodo, and see Mr. Bilbo,’ said Sam. ‘And yet the only place I really want to be in is here. I am that torn in two.’

It was divided into chapters but Chapter 80 was unfinished, and after that were some blank leaves. The title page had many titles on it, crossed out one after another, so:

What we did in the War of the Ring.

THE DOWNFALL OF THE LORD OF THE RINGS AND THE RETURN OF THE KING