I'm Mr. Frodo's gardener, Samwise Gamgee. I live in 3 Bagshot row, with my old Gaffer.

Mr. Frodo and Mr. Bilbo just celebrated their birthdays. That Party Tree was real bright, all strung with lights. And the food! Mr. Pippin nearly burst his stomach with those cakes. There was dancing too. I danced with Rosie Cotton, she was all pretty, ribbons in her hair and all. 

  But Mr. Bilbo had to make a Commotion. He seems to like doing that, he does. Disappeared. Just like that! Real disappeared, not just going off somewhere, if you take my meaning. And now Mr. Frodo, he's all quiet like. He's gone up back to Bag End. I'd better go see. Not spying, like, just checking up on him. Best bring me shears, just in case. Don't want to be accused of heavesdropping. My old Gaffer, he'd be real mad, he would.   


 Me an' Mr Frodo, we're on our own now. With that old Gollum. (Or Stinker, as I call 'im when Mr. Frodo ain't listening).  He really does. Stink, I mean. As does this 'ere place he's lead us. Most likely to kill us, I say, drown us in this horrible bog. Of course, 'e did swear to serve the 'master of the Precious' but I don't doubt that he wouldn't like to get rid of me, and not think twice about it. 

But Mr Frodo trusts him. If I was 'im, I'd 'ave stuck that Gollum with my nice shiny sword ages ago.   

  Mr. Frodo's not eating much now. Not that there's much to eat anyway, except that lembas bread. And even that's not very 'olesome, if you take my meaning.

Not that I mean any ungratefulness to those that made it, it keeps you on your feet real proper 'an all that. Still, I'd 'a give anything for some taters, I would. Taters is wonderful. Boil 'em, mash 'em, put 'em in a stew... Lovely big golden chips 'an a nice bit 'o fish...


The last lap now. We're really 'an truly in the Black Land. Mordor. 

Well, there's one good thing that's 'appened. That Stinker' gone. I could have hunted him down till the end of time and end 'im, but Mr. Frodo says to leave him. Somehow he thinks there's still some good in 'im. Mr. Frodo's the wisest person I know, except for Mr. Bilbo 'an Mr. Gandalf, but he's weak. He let that Gollum go, even after he lead us into a trap. I get so mad at him, I just see red when I remember how he lead us up those winding stairs and into Shelob's Lair. I ended that filth though, when it jabbed Mr. Frodo with it's nasty stinger. 

Well, this is it. I don't suppose we'll ever get out of here now. Mount Doom exploding above us. No tales'll ever be told of us, no songs sung. No-one'll ever know what happened. Well, we did it though, didn't we? The Ring's destroyed. Mordor's cracking into pieces. I'm only sad that I'll never see the Shire again. The Party Tree. The music. My old Gaffer. Rosie- Rosie Cotton. She's so...beautiful. If I was ever to marry anyone, it'd be her! It would have been her!