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Pronunciation: sa'mwize ga'mjee

Meaning: 'Samwise' means 'half-wise' (i.e. simple or foolish)
'Gamgee' comes from 'Gamwichy', referring to the village of Gamwich where the family was founded

Dates: Born 6 April1 III 2983, passed over the Sea late September IV 61 (1380-1482 by the Shire-reckoning)


From "JAM"
Samwise (Sam) Gamgee

A Hobbit of the Shire. A man-servant and side-kick to Frodo Baggins, Sam is to Frodo what Sancho was to Don Quixote -- confidant, conscience, supporter and provider of mild comic relief. He also has his own heroic part to play in the drama of the Ring. With Gandalf's blessing, Sam accompanies Frodo on his journey to Rivendell, and is included as a member of the Fellowship of the Ring.


From "The Tolkien Archives"

Samwise Gamgee

Samwise was the son of the Gaffer, and he was Frodo Baggins' gardener.  Recruited by Gandalf to accompany Frodo to Rivendell, Sam grows to be his stout-hearted and most loyal companion.  Upon the breaking of the Fellowship, Sam finds Frodo and follows him into Mordor.

Although Frodo was appointed Ring-bearer, Sam took up the burden of carrying the Ring for a short time while Frodo was in the hands of the Orcs of Cirith Ungol.  After the War of the Ring Sam returned to the Shire and married Rosie Cottonwood and had 13 children.  He also held the office of Mayor of Michel Delving.   Story holds that Sam, because of his Ring-bearer status, was eventually allowed to travel across the Sea to Valinor


From "Hobbitself"


From Lord Of The Rings Book:

"You still mean to come with me?"

"I do."

"It is going to be very dangerous, Sam. It is already dangerous. Most likely neither of us will come back."

"If you don't come back, sir, then I shan't, that's certain," said Sam. "Don't you leave him! they said to me. Leave him! I said. I never meant to. I am going with him, if he climbs to the Moon, and if any of those Black Riders try to stop him, they'll have Sam Gamgee to reckon with, I said. They laughed."

"Who are they, and what are you talking about?"

"The Elves, sir. We had some talk last night; and they seemed to know you were going away, so I didn't see the use of denying it. Wonderful folk, Elves, sir! Wonderful!"



Troll Sat Alone on his seat of stone,

Standing up, with his hands behind his back, as if he was at school, Sam began to sing to an old tune.


Troll sat alone on his seat of stone,

And munched and mumbled a bare old bone;

For many a year he had gnawed it near,

For meat was hard to come by.

Done by! Gum by!

In a cave in the hills he dwelt alone,

And meat was hard to come by.


Up came Tom with his big boots on

Said he to Troll: 'Pray, what is yon?

For it looks like the shin o' my uncle Tim,

As should be a-lyin' in graveyard.

Caveyard! Paveyard!

This many a year has Tim been gone,

And I thought he were lyin' in graveyard.


'My lad,' said Troll, 'this bone I stole.

But what be bones that lie in a hole?

Thy nuncle was dead as a lump of lead,

Afore I found his shinbone.

Tinbone! Thinbone!

He can spare a share for a poor old troll,

Fore he don't need his shinbone.'


Said Tom: 'I don't see why the likes o' thee

Without axin' leave should go makin' free

With the shank or the shin o' my father's kin;

So hand the old bone over!

Rover! Trover!

Though dead he be, it belongs to he;

So hand the old bone over!'


'For a couple o' pins,' says Troll, and grins,

'I'll eat thee too, and gnaw thy shins.

A bit o' fresh meat will go down sweet!

I'll try my teeth on thee now.

Hee now! See now!

I'm tired o' gnawing old bones and shins;

I've a mind to dine on thee now!'


But just as he thought his dinner was caught,

He found his hands had hold of naught.

Before he could mind, Tom slipped behind

And gave him the boot to larn him.

Warn him! Darn him!

A bump o' the boot on the seat, Tom thought

Would be the way to larn him.


But harder than stone is the flesh and bone

Of a troll that sits in the hills alone.

As well set your boot to the mountain's root,

For the seat of a troll don't feel it.

Peel it! Heal it!

Old Troll laughed, when he heard Tom groan,

And he knew his toes could feel it.


Tom's leg is game, since home he came,

And his bootless foot is lasting lame;

But Troll don't care, and he's still there

With the bone he boned from its owner.

Doner! Boner!

Troll's old seat is still the same,

And the bone he boned from its owner!


'Well that's a warning to us all!' laughed Merry. 'It is as well you used a stick, and not your hand, Strider!'

'Where did you come by that, Sam?' asked Pippin, 'I've never heard those words before.'

Sam murmured something inaudible. 'It's out of his own head, of course,' said Frodo. 'I am learning a lot about Sam Gamgee on this journey. First he was a conspirator, now he's a jester. He'll end up becoming a wizard - or warrior!'

'I hope not,' said Sam. 'I don't want to be neither!'



In western lands beneath the Sun

Sam began to sing.

His voice sounded thin and quavering in the cold dark tower, the voice of a forlorn and weary hobbit that no listening orc could possibly mistake for the clear song of an Elven-lord. He murmured old childish tunes out of the Shire, and snatches of Mr Bilbos rhymes that came into his mind like fleeting glimpses of the country of his home. And then suddenly new strength rose in him, and his voice rang out, while words of his own came unbidden to fit the simple tune.


In western lands beneath the Sun

The flowers may rise in Spring,

The trees may bud, the waters run,

The merry finches sing.

Or there maybe tis cloudless night

And swaying beeches bear

The Elven-stars as jewels white

Amid their branching hair.


Though here at journeys end I lie

In darkness buried deep,

Beyond all towers strong and high,

Beyond all mountains steep,

Above all shadows rides the Sun

And Stars for ever dwell,

I will not say the Day is done

Nor bid the Stars farewell


Grey as a mouse

Sam stood up, putting his hands behind his back (as he always did when speaking poetry) and began:


Grey as a mouse

Big as a house

Nose like a snake

I make the earth shake,

As I tramp through the grass,

Trees crack as I pass,

With horns in my mouth,

I walk in the South,

Flapping big ears,

Beyond count of years,

I stump round and round,

Never lie on the ground,

Not even to die.

Oliphaunt am I,

Biggest of all,

Huge, old and tall,

If ever youd met me

You wouldnt forget me.

If you never do,

You wont think Im true,

But old Oliphaunt am I,

And I never lie.


That, said Sam, when he had finished reciting, thats a rhyme we have in the Shire. Nonsense maybe, and maybe not. But we have our tales too, and news out of the South, you know.