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Wormtongue cowered down and whimpered： 'No； no！'
'Then I will；' said Saruman。 'Worm killed your Chief； poor little fellow； your nice little Boss。
Didn't you； Worm？ Stabbed him in his sleep； I believe。 Buried him； I hope； though Worm has been
very hungry lately。 No； Worm is not really nice。 You had better leave him to me。'
A look of wild hatred came into Wormtongue's red eyes。 'You told me to； you made me do it；' he
hissed。
Saruman laughed。 'You do what Sharkey says； always； don't you； Worm？ Well； now he says：
follow！' He kicked Wormtongue in the face as he grovelled； and turned and made off。 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。
To the dismay of those that stood by； about the body of Saruman a grey mist gathered； and
rising slowly to a great height like smoke from a fire； as a pale shrouded figure it loomed over the
Hill。 For a moment it wavered； looking to the West； but out of the West came a cold wind； and it
bent away； and with a sigh dissolved into nothing。
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；' said Frodo and sighed。 'The very last stroke。 But to think that it should fall here； at
the very door of Bag End！ Among all my hopes and fears at least I never expected that。'
'I shan't call it the end； till we've cleared up the mess；' said Sam gloomily。 'And that'll take a lot
of time and work。'
_Chapter 9_
The Grey Havens
The clearing up certainly needed a lot of work； but it took less time than Sam had feared。 The
day after the battle Frodo rode to Michel Delving and released the prisoners from the Lockholes。
One of the first that they found was poor Fredegar Bolger； Fatty no longer。 He had been taken when
the ruffians smoked out a band of rebels that he led from their hidings up in the Brockenbores by
the hills of Scary。
'You would have done better to e with us after all； poor old Fredegar！' said Pippin； as they
carried him out too weak to walk。
He opened an eye and tried gallantly to smile。 'Who's this young giant with the loud voice？' he
whispered。 'Not little Pippin！ What's your size in hats now？'
Then there was Lobelia。 Poor thing； she looked very old and thin when they rescued her from a
dark and narrow cell。 She insisted on hobbling out on her own feet； and she had such a wele；
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。 She had never in her
life been popular before。 But she was crushed by the news of Lotho's murder； and she would' not
return to Bag End。 She gave it back to Frodo； and went to her own people； the Bracegirdles of
Hardbottle。
When the poor creature died next Spring…she was after all more than a hundred years old –
Frodo was surprised and much moved： she had left all that remained of her money and of Lotho's
for him to use in helping hobbits made homeless by the troubles。 So that feud was ended。
Old Will Whitfoot had been in the Lockholes longer than any； and though he had perhaps been
treated less harshly than some； he needed a lot of feeding up before he could look the part of Mayor；
so Frodo agreed to act as his Deputy； until Mr。 Whitfoot was in shape again。 The only thing that he
did as Deputy Mayor was to reduce the Shirriffs to their proper functions and numbers。 The task of
hunting out the last remnant of the ruffians was left to Merry and Pippin； and it was soon done。 The
southern gangs； after hearing the news of the Battle of Bywater； fled out of the land and offered
little resistance to the Thain。 Before the Year's End the few survivors were rounded up in the woods；
and those that surrendered were shown to the borders。
Meanwhile the labour of repair went on apace； and Sam was kept very busy。 Hobbits can work
like bees when the mood and the need es on them。 Now there were thousands of willing hands
of all ages； from the small but nimble ones of the hobbit lads and lasses to the well…worn and horny
ones of the gaffers and gammers。 Before Yule not a brick was left standing of the new Shirriff…
houses or of anything that had been built by 'Sharkey's Men'； but the bricks were used to repair
many an old hole； to make it snugger and drier。 Great stores of goods and food； and beer； were
found that had been hidden away by the ruffians in sheds and barns and deserted holes； and
especially in the tunnels at Michel Delving and in the old quarries at Scary； so that there was a
great deal better cheer that Yule than anyone had hoped for。
One of the first things done in Hobbiton； before even the removal of the new mill； was the
clearing of the Hill and Bag End； and the restoration of Bagshot Row。 The front of the new sand…pit
was all levelled and made into a large sheltered garden； and new holes were dug in the southward
face； back into the Hill； and they were lined with brick。 The Gaffer was restored to Number Three；
and he said often and did not care who heard it：
'It's an ill wind as blows nobody no good； as I always say。 And All's well as ends Better！'
There was some discussion of the name that the new row should be given。 _Battle Gardens_ was
thought of； or _Better Smials_。 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。 For one
thing； this hurt would take long to heal； and only his great…grandchildren； he thought； would see the
Shire as it ought to be。
Then suddenly one day； for he had been too busy for weeks to give a thought to his adventures；
he remembered the gift of Galadriel。 He brought the box out and showed it to the other Travellers
（for so they were now called by everyone）； and asked their advice。
'I wondered when you would think of it；' said Frodo。 'Open it！'
Inside it was filled with a grey dust； soft and fine； in the middle of which was a seed； like a
small nut with a silver shale。 'What can I do with this？' said Sam。
'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。
'But I'm sure the Lady would not like me to keep it all for my own garden； now so many folk
have suffered；' said Sam。
'Use all the wits and knowledge you have of your own； Sam；' said Frodo； 'and then use the gift to
help your work and better it。 And use it sparingly。 There is not much here； and I expect every grain
has a value。'
So Sam planted saplings in all the places where specially beautiful or beloved trees had been
destroyed； and he put a grain of the precious dust in the soil at the root of each。 He went up and
down the Shire in this labour； but if he paid special attention to Hobbiton and Bywater no one
blamed him。 And at the end he found that he still had a little of the dust left； so he went to the
Three…Farthing Stone； which is as near the centre of the Shire as no matter； and cast it in the air
with his blessing。 The little silver nut he planted in the Party Field where the tree had once been；
and he wondered what would e of it。 All through the winter he remained as patient as he could；
and tried to restrain himself from going round constantly to see if anything was happening。
Spring surpassed his wildest hopes。 His trees began to sprout and grow； as if time was in a hurry
and wished to make one year do for twenty。 In the Party Field a beautiful young sapling leaped up：
it had silver bark and long leaves and burst into golden flowers in April。 It was indeed a _mallorn_；
and it was the wonder of the neighbourhood。 In after years； as it grew in grace and beauty； it was
known far and wide and people would e long journeys to see it： the only _mallorn_ west of the
Mountains and east of the Sea； and one of the finest in the world。
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