"Have faith, Sam!"
"Not saying I don't trust you Mr. Frodo, but I don't like this blindfold business. My brain feels all upside down and turned around."
"That's the POINT silly." Merry's voice came from just behind his ear. He stiffened, but then felt a shove in his back and if the soon to be Master of Buckland wanted a gardner to walk he ought to walk. He took his steps with trepidation, slow contact with the ground. At least he could feel the soil under his feet. The ground would always be below him, a loyal constant. But the wind blew about him and he feared he might walk into a tree or trip over a root and there he'd make a fool of himself in front of his fancy companions. So he was cautious.
Presently a warm hand slipped into his. Its delicate fingers, book fingers with not a callous to their owner's name, laced between his own.
"I know it's scary Sam, but just a few more steps. Over here."
Sam clutched at his master's hand and followed.
"And there!" Merry whipped the blindfold off his face. A table sat alone in the wood's glen, lavishly decorated. A young Peregrin Took grinned from where he stood on a stool, hanging up the right end of a banner that read HAPPY BIRTHDAY SAM. A delicious smell wafted from shining beige bowls, filled to the brim.
"I'm sorry I tricked you, but your gaffer said you didn't want any party and that won't do."
"I hope he's grateful after you roped us into all this. When we came to visit you cousin we did not expect there would be work involved, dear cousin," Pippin said.
"He can't refuse you now anyways," Merry added and Sam humphed for it was true. Frodo smiled at him, sensing his sentiment despite the lack of words.
"I'm glad you like it."