Late afternoon was deepening into evening twilight over the peaceful hills of Hobbiton. One never would have guessed that up until a few months ago a war had raged for the peace and freedom of all Middle Earth. The rolling hills of the Shire had been left untouched, its people blissfully ignorant of the darkness the world could hold. Save for four. Three cousins and a gardener had ventured beyond the borders and returned much changed.

One of the four sat in a little garden, arranging and rearranging a bouquet of flowers. Nothing gave him greater joy and peace than working with his plants and seeing them bloom. Well, almost nothing. He smiled as he thought of the intended recipient of the blossoms in his hands.

"Sam!"

The hobbit looked up, his gold-brown curls bouncing at the quickness of his movement. "Mister Frodo," he greeted with a smile, standing from the bench he was seated on.

"We're going down to the Green Dragon tonight," Mister Frodo said, his smile bright on his lips but failing to reach his haunted blue eyes. There was no need to specify the "we." There were only two other hobbits in all the Shire that they felt truly comfortable with after everything.

"I was actually getting ready to head down there myself," Sam admitted, wrapping the flowers gently and putting them in a small basket.

An old spark brightened Mister Frodo's eyes. "You plan on talking to Rosie, don't you?" he asked.

"I intend to," Sam answered with a nod.

"And the flowers?"

Sam showed his master and friend the blossoms and herbs he had chosen.

Mister Frodo half-laughed in shock. "You best hope Mr. Cotton doesn't spy you with those. Asking for courtship and marriage? I heard he blackened the eye of several lads who dared try giving those flowers to Rosie."

"I am making my intentions clear," Sam said, leaving his garden and joining Mister Frodo on the road to the popular pub. "'Sides, Mr. Cotton ain't no orc, pardon the comparison."

Mister Frodo chuckled, his mirth subdued. It had taken many hardships for them to learn there were worse dangers than the likes of Farmer Maggot and protective fathers. "Leastwise, even if he were, you would surely terrify him before he could do any damage."

Sam ducked his head as his cheeks reddened. He was sure there were many who would have called him foolhardy for racing into an orc-hole like that alone. But, he felt he hadn't had a choice in the matter. He wasn't about to leave Mister Frodo to those filthy orcs. Though he was certain that when recounting the tale, he had seen Strider and the elven prince exchange looks full of fond, exasperated memories.

"You're just saying that, Mister Frodo," he said, trying to brush his actions aside.

"I'm not, Sam," Mister Frodo said, clapping his hand around his shoulder. "Come on. Let's get to the Green Dragon before Pippin drinks the barrels dry."

So it was just an hour or so later, Sam was sitting with Mister Frodo and Masters Merry and Pippin at a table in the bustling pub. While other patrons chattered and laughed, the four sat in quiet, Master Merry and Mister Frodo on one side while Master Pippin and Sam sat on the other. It was almost strange how everything was its proper size once more after so much time in the wilds and among the big folk.

Sam offered a small smile to his fellow adventurers before they silently toasted themselves. They had ensured that their people could continue on in this peace, where they need not fear the dark nor the flames, nor some nameless fear.

Then there she was, drying glasses as she always did during the evenings. Rosie Cotton as gorgeous as ever with her honey colored curls. Oh, she was nothing like the beautiful elves, like Lady Galadriel. But the elves were too fine, too beautiful, more like the lofty Valar, untouchable. No, Rosie Cotton was beautiful enough for him. Where the elves were like the silver starlight that they loved, Rosie was like a blooming rose.

Sam steeled himself, took a final sip of ale for a bit of extra courage, then stood, grabbing his small bundle of flowers. He pointedly ignored the open stares of his companions. "Miss Rosie Cotton," he said.

She paused, giving him her dazzling smile. "Master Samwise Gamgee," she returned. "Wishing for some honey mead?"

"Something a bit more important than that," Sam answered, presenting her with the bouquet.

Her mouth fell open, even as delight sparked in her shocked eyes. The glass and rag in her hands almost didn't reach the counter safely. She quickly composed herself, smiling giddily though a hint of a tease. "Very bold, Master Gamgee," she said. "Asking for my hand after being gone nigh on a year."

"Oh, I intend to court you proper," Sam said. "I just wanted to make sure my intentions were perfectly clear."

"So, I best make my answer perfectly clear," Rosie said. She leaned across the counter and kissed him on the lips.

Sam jolted in surprise. He had hoped for a simple "yes" not this. But he quickly recovered, returning her kiss with one of his own. His hand reached up to support the back of her head even as hers pulled him closer. He was pretty sure it was the heady perfume of rosemary, meadowflowers, and earth about Rosie and not the ale that started to muddle his brain. And he needed to keep one hand locked on the counter for fear of his knees giving way as she continued to steal his breath.

"Samwise Gamgee!" Mr. Cotton's enraged shout forced them to break the kiss, leaving both heaving for air. "Oh, the old Gaffer is going to hear about this! No question!" Mr. Cotton continued to rage. "When I tell him how you were making free with my daughter–"

"It was actually me making free with him," Rosie answered, somewhat pertly. She gave Sam a secret wink. "Besides, I think I should be allowed to kiss my beau."

That was when Mr. Cotton spotted the flowers. He raised a cross eyebrow, an action that before would have sent Sam scurrying faster than a squirrel escaping a dog. But now Sam just returned his look with a respectful confidence.

"Hm," Mr. Cotton hurumphed. "If Rosie has approved of you, who am I to stand in the way. But-" he glared frightfully upon Sam, "-hurt my baby girl and you will wish you'd never laid eyes on her."

"I'd never harm her, sir," Sam promised.

Mr. Cotton jerked a nod. "See that you don't." He then stalked away.

Rosie gave Sam an admiring eye. "There was a time that you would have shot out of here like a terrified rabbit if Pa so much as gave you the stink eye."

"I've seen and faced many things that are scarier than your pa," Sam answered truthfully.

"What sort of things?" Rosie asked, an eager gleam entering her eye. But it wasn't the gleam of a hunger for adventure. It was the hunger for a new grand story. Unfortunately, that wasn't what Sam's tale was. Not yet at any rate.

"I don't want to trouble you with them," Sam said. "Bad enough they darken my mind."

"Sam," Rosie said, catching his hands in both of hers, her eyes now glowing with earnestness. "If you truly wish for us to someday be One, we have to share our shadows as well as our sunshine."

Sam took a deep breath before slowly releasing it. This was honestly more than he thought possible tonight. But what Rosie said was true, almost making him wonder if Rosie'd had her eye on him as well and was just waiting for him to make the first move.

"Alright," he said. "I will tell you of them. But not tonight. Wait for when the sun shines her light upon us again to chase the dark shadows away. What I'll share is too dark for any other time."

"Very well, Sam," she said. "I'll wait. Even if I have to wait for days or years before you're ready. Just know, I'll be here." She then pressed a second kiss to his lips, a softer, gentler kiss this time.

Sam returned it, slowly smiling. In the sunshine of her gentle promise, he could feel the shadows of the Ring and Mordor fade from his soul. In her warm support, the chill of darkness and evil left his bones. There was a promise of new life.

Years later . . .

Laughter rang out through Bag End as five hobbits hosted a couple old friends. A former ranger and his wife had managed to escape royal duties with their son and now sat where nearly a hundred years before thirteen dwarves sang of gold and mountains. Two hobbits of grand positions sat opposite a former gardener and his wife as the master of the hole served fine ale and tea. Two fauntlings played on the floor with the human boy, laughing and egging each other on in turn.

Finally, as stars appeared in the sky outside, the children settled and turned to their elders, the younger fauntling settling into the young prince's lap.

"Ada," the prince said, "tell us the tale of Frodo and the Ring. It's one of my favorite stories."

The king chuckled, silver streaks gleaming in his dark hair. "I suppose we could share part of that tale," he said, glancing at their hosts.

The hobbits nodded. They wouldn't mind hearing their former guide tell the tale, they already shared some of the tale with the fauntlings already.

"Frodo was really courageous, wasn't he?" the boy asked, already eager to hear of the exploits of one of his heroes.

"That he was," the king said, sending the dark-haired hobbit a smile. "One of if not the most famous of hobbits."

"You're leaving out one of the chief characters," the elder fauntling protested. "Samwise the Brave. I always want to hear more about him." She cast her eyes down as though sad her hero was seemingly forgotten. "Frodo wouldn't have gotten far without Sam."

The former gardener's mouth dropped open before turning to his former employer. "Mister Frodo! You put 'er up to it!"

The younger Baggins laughed as he held up his hands in defense. "I swear I did no such thing! The only thing I did was give each characters a distinct title: Frodo the Ringbearer, Aragorn the Ranger King, Legolas the Elven Prince, and Samwise the Brave." He sobered, though a delighted pride gleamed in his eyes as he quietly added, "I want your daughter to always see you as the finest of heroes and the greatest of hobbits."

Samwise Gamgee ducked his head, his reddening cheeks half-hidden by the firelight though nothing could hide the grateful, appreciative smile on his face.

Rosie Gamgee pressed a kiss to his warm cheek. "The grandest of hobbits," she said. "And that's saying something."

The children looked around the adults, confused, even as Merry and Pippin laughed a bit themselves and the Aragorn and Arwen smiled in contented amusement. "What are they talking about, Ada, Nana?" Eldarion asked, little Faramir still twisting about in confusion to his laughing papa.

"We'll explain it all when you young ones are a little older," Arwen said. "So, Melethen," she said, turning to her husband, "what of this tale?"

He nodded. "Indeed. Tonight we start the tale of Frodo and the Ring as well as Frodo's faithful companion, Samwise the Brave."

Sam leaned back in his chair, arm wrapped around his wife. Despite the shadows in the story, lightened greatly for young ears, he couldn't stop the smile spreading across his face. What he and Frodo had spoken of as they left Osgiliath was already coming true. And yes, he could take up that title, just as he had allowed it to settle into his mind and heart that long ago day. Samwise the Brave, Hobbit of the Shire.

The End

Author's Note: Originally started thinking of this idea as a scene in a Narnia/Lord of the Rings crossover I am still planning. But then it was like: I don't have to wait to write it out, I can just make it a quick oneshot. And there you have it.

I'm not 100% sure that this is canon, but it's at least popular fanon that hobbits are fluent in the language of flowers, thus Sam's method of proposal. Sadly I am lacking in that language and feeling just lazy enough to not look up what could be in that bouquet. Maybe one day I'll update the story with that revision.

I also took a bit of creative liberty for the ending, simply for fun. And maybe I was just wanting to play with the dialogue from that first scene that we hear "Samwise the Brave." (One of the most underrated scenes that I've found, at least when it comes to finding the quote put to gifs or pictures.) This is also inspired more by the films than the books, simply because I am still somewhere in the first quarter of The Two Towers and thus largely unfamiliar with the literary events of Return of the King.

Well, I hope you enjoyed. For any regular readers out there: Any story posting is going to be sporadic until I get another multichapter finished. But, until next time.