"Count to fifty, and then you can go in. I just want to make sure everything Bilbo wanted to be done is done," Sam said. Frodo looked a little puzzled, but nodded, and Sam raced back into the room.
"Lame excuse," muttered Bowman, but Sam ignored him.
Fifty counts wasn't very long, but it gave Sam a little bit of time to think things through. As he counted he looked around the room at Elanor, Bowman, Melilot, Primrose, Cami, and Marigold (to whom he had apologized most profusely), he thought back on his recent experiences.
Twenty...
As he and Elanor had expected, they were thoroughly scolded, by their parents and by Mr. Bilbo. Sam had been crushed, but somehow, now that it was all over, he was relieved. He knew that he had done something wrong, and now he was through with it, and he'd learned something from it. Never again would Samwise Gamgee give his word and go back on it, he had said to Bilbo, with as much gravity as he could possibly show on his face. And he meant it.
Thirty...
"Forty!" Sam whispered.
Frodo stepped into the room, and everyone leapt out of their hiding spots and shouted "Happy Birthday!", Sam the loudest of them all.
***
The party was proceeding grandly, and Melilot was having a lovely time. Her leg still ached a little bit, but she hardly noticed it, distracted as she was by the food, entertainment, and above all the company. She went up behind Primrose and gave her a quick hug around the shoulders.
"You did well, Prim," she said. "Look at this! This is wonderful! And look at Frodo. He's so happy...and it couldn't have been done without you." Without leaving Prim enough time to respond, Melilot went along, talking to everyone she passed, and enjoying the party while it lasted.
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"Oh, my god! I care so little, I almost passed out!" --Dr. Cox, "Scrubs"
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