When Bilbo Baggins received a letter from Seredic Brandybuck, saying that he would be passing through and wondered if he might stop in for tea, the old master didn't think much of it. Serving tea, even to a stuffy Brandybuck wouldn't be very much trouble and besides Bilbo thought he probably owed some civility to Seredic; since he was very closely related to Frodo, was in fact a first cousin, being Primula's sister's boy. But when he told Frodo later in the afternoon, the younger Baggins' face drained of color.
"Don't you like him?" Bilbo asked, teasingly. Frodo didn't smile or even look up. He had been reading in the April sunshine under the wisteria bower. He paused and looked out past the vegetable patch and out to the hills on the horizon.
"Er, no actually. We don't get along at all. I wonder what he could be doing, paying us a call," Frodo said, his voice troubled.
"I can write him back and say we've all caught the croup or better yet tell him to stuff it down his shirt," Bilbo said and drew a laugh from his heir.
"It would be rude," Frodo said thoughtfully.
"I've been called worse," Bilbo chuckled and sat down, pulling out his pipe. "So what is so terrible about this cousin of yours? If he's an ass I really shall tell him to take himself off." Frodo shook his head and he began idly pulling at the petals of wisteria that snaked over the bower. Bilbo noted that Frodo had not once during this exchange met his eyes.
"I suppose he had my best interests at heart. No, I know he did. But I can't enjoy being around him and I don't want to talk about it, if it's alright."
"Oh, of course. No, that's quite alright," Bilbo said, surprised. Frodo usually confided in him with complete confidence and Bilbo felt a little spark of hurt, though he told himself he was being ridiculous. "Tell me what you want me to do, my lad." Frodo stood up and brushed his breeks off.
"There's no need to send him packing, especially since it's only tea he's after, and he is family. Invite him if you like, but I'm afraid I'm going to be a complete coward about it and go off somewhere while he's here." Frodo turned back and looked apologetic. "I'm sorry, uncle."
"Don't apologize," Bilbo said, sticking his pipe in his mouth, "Really, I'm a complete coward about relations I don't like so I can hardly complain when you want to hide from them." He grinned at his nephew, "I'll just make sure there's a terribly urgent errand to one of the farthest farms in our holdings and that it must be seen to at once." Frodo gave him a smile.
"Thank you Bilbo. Have I told you lately that you're my favorite relative?" he asked.
"Probably because I spoil you so badly, but never mind," Bilbo said, feeling a touch of embarrassment in his delight.
The day before Seredic arrived Bilbo was eating second breakfast in his warm sunlit kitchen, sorting through his post while carrying on a chat with his gardener's boy who was, at the moment, learning to make scones.
"Don't open the oven," Bilbo scolded, looking up from his letter and peering over his reading glasses at the startled boy, "it shifts the temperature and they won't bake evenly." Sam shut the door and cast a guilty look at his master. Bilbo tried not to chuckle at the look. "They won't burn. Not yet anyway, give them a few more minutes and then we'll test them."
"Yes, sir," Sam said.
"Oh, that reminds me," Bilbo put his letter from cousin Merlo down and focused his attention on Sam, "I'm having a relation to tea tomorrow. Do you think you can do some baking for us?" he asked. Sam nodded, looking eager.
"Is it a Took?" he asked. Sam had always liked Tooks. They were wild and knew long impossible stories and sometimes had news of the Outside.
"No, a Brandybuck."
"Oh, like Mr. Frodo," Sam said absently, looking back at the oven. Bilbo frowned.
"Frodo is a Baggins," he said and Sam whirled around his eyes wide.
"Of course he is, I'm sorry, only…" Sam trailed off, his mouth still open and Bilbo sighed.
"Only your father still calls him 'the Brandybuck lad', doesn't he?" Bilbo chuckled and Sam looked relieved, "we will bring your father round one of these days, won't we Samwise?" and Sam nodded, biting his lip.
"We will, sir. Things just take time with the Gaffer," he said. "So, this Brandybuck relation, does he live at Brandy Hall?"
"No," Bilbo said, resuming his perusal of the post, "He's been in the North Farthing for a decade or more, managing the family lands up there, but he knew Frodo when he lived at the Hall. They're first cousins you know."
"Fancy that," Sam said and Bilbo could almost see the lines of relation that Sam had memorized flashing before the boy's eyes. "Mr. Frodo must be looking forward to seeing him after all this time."
"Er, well not really," Bilbo said and reached for a teacup, "I don't think they got on well."
"Oh," Sam said and Bilbo could hear the boy's tone chill considerably. He looked up and frowned.
"Just because Frodo didn't like someone ten years ago does not mean you should dislike them instantly." Sam didn't say anything but Bilbo could tell his statement was being met with skepticism. "And if he turns up and is a complete ass that does not give you leave to slip him root of ipecac or any of your powdered rhizomes and make him ill. I don't care what he says about Frodo."
"Sir!" Sam protested, but seemed reluctant to offer any more protest than that. Instead, he squirmed uncomfortably under Bilbo's gaze and the old master sighed.
"I am only glad you're on our side, Master Gamgee," he said and Sam blushed deeper.
The next day, Seredic arrived on time riding a fine pony of North Farthing stock and greeted Bilbo warmly. He looked older than his age, with graying frayed sideburns, but Bilbo attributed that to the harsh climate of the North Farthing and the stress of managing so much land by himself. Though he looked old Seredic had a kind face and spoke politely in his East Farthing accent.
"I am pleased to meet you at last cousin Bilbo," Seredic said, "I've heard so much about you and your adventures, I cannot tell you how pleased I am to have tea with you." Bilbo smiled a little unsure. Frodo's dislike of the hobbit had put him in mind of someone like the Sackville-Bagginses, but this hobbit was clearly nothing so nasty.
"Well, what you've heard is probably bad enough to curl your foot hair, but you've decided to be brave and come and meet Mad Baggins after all. I think tea is a small reward for such courage," Bilbo said, guiding him in through the gate. He glanced back and saw Sam taking the pony off to the stable, casting dower looks at the oblivious gentlehobbit. Bilbo didn't think Sam would poison a gentlehobbit, but he was very suspicious about the incident in which Lotho Sackville-Baggins had come to tea, got into an argument with Frodo and then suddenly come down with the trots.
"I'm afraid Frodo can't join us," Bilbo said as they walked up the path to the green door, "There was an emergency with one of the farming families. I sent him to check on them this afternoon and I'm afraid it is quite a ways."
"Oh dear, nothing too serious I hope?" Seredic inquired politely.
"Er, no. Hunting dispute. Frodo's quite good at settling that sort of thing," he said.
"Is he indeed?" Seredic said and Bilbo couldn't detect any stiffness in his tone, but he knew better than to try and guess tone from a Brandybuck.
They had a pleasant tea and Bilbo began to find that if he didn't exactly enjoy talking to Seredic that he didn't find it unpleasant, and that was a considerable accomplishment for a gentlehobbit in Bilbo's opinion. They retreated to the drawing room and Bilbo poured them each a small glass of brandy.
"This is very nice. A touch of civilization for a change," Seredic said as he took his glass and got a sharp look from Bilbo.
"Oh ho, I hope you're not going to disparage the West Farthing?" Bilbo said and Seredic laughed.
"I was referring to the North Farthing actually. No, this is all quite charming. I'm ever so pleased my cousin has come to such a place. You were very kind to take him in," he said. Bilbo felt a slight tug of anxiety and sipped his brandy.
"Nonsense. Frodo is a wonderful lad. I'm lucky to have him."
"I've heard you dote on him," Seredic said slowly, "You must love him dearly if you are able to overlook his unusual proclivities." Bilbo frowned on principal, though he didn't know exactly what Seredic meant.
"I know the Brandybucks think the boy odd, but then they think I'm mad," Bilbo laughed, "So in a way we are a good team, Frodo and I." Seredic was frowning so Bilbo snorted at him, "I may offend you cousin, but the Brandybucks consider anyone born outside the Hall odd and the rest of the Shire considers them odd, so there is quite enough oddness going around beyond the Bagginses!"
"I'm not talking about the boy learning his Elvish," Seredic said. "Oh dear, I thought Saradoc would have told you." Bilbo stifled the urge to roll his eyes.
"Don't be coy with me, I'll not have this ominous gossip mongering about my lad," Bilbo said stiffly, but to Seredic's credit, he seemed not at all delighted by the turn in the conversation.
"No, I don't mean to gossip. This is quite beyond… I mean, you're his guardian…"
"Seredic, if you are going to tell me something then do it. Otherwise, close your mouth and let's talk about something else." Seredic shook his head.
"No, you ought to know," he said, "… Years ago in the Buckland wood shop, I caught Frodo in a compromising situation with… well, with a carpenter boy," Seredic said unsteadily and took a swig of Brandy, "Forgive me. That should have come from Saradoc…"
"How's that?" Bilbo said, confused, "what were they doing? Frodo knows better than to mess about in a wood shop. Hot, sharp, spinning things…"
"No sir," Seredic looked positively strained, "they were… locked in a passionate embrace." Bilbo coughed and tried not to snort brandy out his nose.
"Oh I see," he said, pleased that he kept his voice even.
"I am sorry to have to burden you with this, but since Saradoc didn't tell you, I feel it is my duty."
"Oh dear," Bilbo chuckled, unable to help himself, "I don't think it was any of Saradoc's business and he knew that." But Seredic wasn't listening.
"I know it puts cousin Frodo in a bad place, but I'm sure you agree you should have been made privy before taking the boy as your heir."
"Er, well," Bilbo frowned, a little unnerved by the shade of red that Seredic was turning.
"We were discrete in handling the matter. I would not call scandal down on the Brandybucks, so you needn't fear gossip."
"You'll find that I never fear gossip," Bilbo said dryly. "Get a hold of yourself Seredic-lad for heaven sakes!" Seredic finally looked up at Bilbo warily.
"I thought you forgave him for youthful indiscretion, or whatever flimflam Sara called it. But they boy hasn't courted a lass has he? You may find yourself in want of a proper heir." Bilbo's eyes bulged.
"I beg your pardon?" he said and put his brandy glass down.
"Well, you took the boy on to solve the problem of no little Baggins children in the hill didn't you? I'm only saying that as good a lad as Frodo is, he may not solve that problem. And worse, he might put a stain on the Baggins name for generations if he goes on with his…"
"Oh great heavens above!" Bilbo shouted and stood. "Seredic, come along. This conversation is over and you ought to be on your way if you want to reach Waymeet by sunset." Seredic stood.
"I'm so sorry to have upset you cousin. I am dreadfully sorry about the whole thing," he said and Bilbo nodded, taking him by the arm.
"I'm certain you are lad, but not for the right reasons. Here we are," he wrenched the door open and walked Seredic down to the pony shed.
"Terribly sorry old chap, you know I don't mean…"
"Yes," Bilbo said irritably, "Sam! Sam-lad!" he shouted and was gratified to find Sam in the stable, feeding apples to the pony. "Cousin Seredic wants to be on his way at once."
"Yes, sir," Sam chirped and went about fitting the pony with saddle and reins.
"Oh, cousin Bilbo, I so very much enjoyed visiting you and I hope I can write to you about my wheat yields. You seem so well informed about all the lands you manage and I want to do a better job with mine. I hope you can advise me."
"Of course, lad," Bilbo said, sighing, "I know you want to do right by your tenants." Seredic brightened.
"I do," he said. Sam tacked the pony quickly and within minutes Seredic was disappearing down the row road with Bilbo watching him leave while Sam tidied up the stable.
Frodo slunk into Bag End by way of the back mudroom door towards sunset and padded quietly into the kitchen. He greeted Bilbo cheerfully, but Bilbo noted the boy wouldn't meet his eyes and set about making tea, keeping his back turned. Bilbo put aside his copy of the Hobbiton and Bywater Weekly Leader and fixed his gaze on the back of Frodo's head.
Poor boy, Bilbo thought.
"How was cousin Seredic?" Frodo asked.
"A bore," Bilbo said, "though pleasant enough I suppose. He wants advice on managing his land holdings."
"Ah," Frodo said and went to the tea cabinet, his attention focused on the little labels that Samwise had painstakingly written out to mark which leaves were in which drawers. "Chamomile alright with you?"
"Fine," Bilbo agreed readily.
Oh dear, he thought, Frodo really is in a state. The chamomile only comes out when he's completely flustered. Frodo let out a sigh and sank into a chair.
"And he talked on me?" he asked and there was a stiff resignation in his voice. Bilbo frowned, feeling terribly uncomfortable. He didn't have experience talking about these things and he was afraid he would hurt or embarrass his nephew.
"He did," Bilbo said slowly. There was a silence in the kitchen that stretched uncomfortably until Bilbo forced himself to speak. "Lad, nothing he said would make me think less of you." Frodo looked up then, his eyes wide and afraid. "My dear boy," Bilbo rose and went to Frodo's side, laying a hand on his shoulder. Frodo was back to staring at the floor.
"I'm sorry Bilbo," Frodo said in a tight voice, "I know you said no secrets between us…"
"Oh, don't be silly," Bilbo said gruffly, "I never gave you a detailed list of every dalliance I took. You mustn't listen to the likes of Seredic Brandybuck."
"He probably advised you to disown me," Frodo said smiling faintly. Bilbo frowned and rubbed the boy's shoulder.
"I could never do that, Frodo," he said gravely. Frodo took a deep breath and Bilbo realized he was crying. Frodo never cried. "Oh lad," he breathed and put his arms around the boy, who leaned into his side. "You can't believe that I would take the same opinions as those overstuffed Brandybuck windbags. I suppose they filled your head with nonsense?"
"Seredic and Uncle Gorbulas had a very long talk with me," Frodo mumbled into Bilbo's weskit.
"Oh, did they indeed?" Bilbo sighed. "Well, let's have it then, what did they say?"
"… That I was wicked and foul and no one would ever have me."
"And clearly they're the experts," Bilbo scoffed, "I thought we were past believing any such drivel from the family?"
"I was much younger then," Frodo said quietly. "It made a bit of an impression." Bilbo scowled angrily and began reconsidering his prohibition of Sam poisoning gentlehobbits.
"Those hobbits have never seen real wickedness," Bilbo said slowly as he rubbed Frodo's back, "and no one who knows you could say you're wicked, my dear boy."
"Thank you Bilbo," Frodo said and reached up to clasp his hand. "I'm terribly embarrassed about the whole thing." And he drew back, folding his arms and looking down.
"Well, I don't see why you should be," Bilbo said carefully. "But if you like, we'll leave it alone for now. How about some supper, then? And maybe a nice strong drink too; I think you've earned it," he said. Frodo looked up at him and smiled with adoration in his eyes. Bilbo paused and watched his nephew wipe his cheeks, then went off into the cold cellar. At least it was possible he had said some of the right things.
Bilbo was brooding. He was very annoyed with the Brandybucks first off and pointedly ignored their letters for weeks before he felt he could be civil enough to write back. Second, he was annoyed with himself, for he felt it was probably his duty as Frodo's guardian to refute what the Brandybucks had said once and for all and if Frodo really did prefer lads, then make him feel as if he could find a lad to pair with, if he wanted. Bilbo was fairly confident that Frodo had done no such thing since coming to Hobbiton. There had been some girls he trifled with but each affair had been short lived and there hadn't been any lately, as far as Bilbo knew. And he knew quite a bit about the happenings in Hobbiton. The gammers joked about Bilbo being omniscient, but little did they know how close to truth their claims were. He couldn't help it really, not when every hobbit within a twenty mile radius came to him about every little problem or piece of gossip.
"Maybe I should try and match him with someone," Bilbo pondered and chuckled. Frodo would accuse him of behaving like the maiden aunts at Brandy Hall. Well, it was a thought, Bilbo mused. He supposed it might be best if it was someone Frodo was already close to. There were some friends, maybe some of the Brandybuck cousins he had been close with. But that was only if Saradoc allowed it and Bilbo could see other complications. The distance, the gossip, Brandybuck pigheadedness… There was a knock on his study door and Bilbo jumped, turning to the doorway and saw Samwise peering in at him, smiling cheerfully.
"Begging your pardon, sir, I'm just off home," he said.
"Oh yes of course. Good night, lad," he said. "Remember tomorrow is your lesson so bring your parchment and pen." Sam nodded.
"Yes, sir. Good night, sir," he said and disappeared. Bilbo stared after him, struck by a sudden thought.
"Samwise?" he called and rose. He heard Sam's steps halt in the hallway.
"Yes, sir?" he said and turned as Bilbo reached the hall.
"Er- tell your father, I'm making up a batch of that arthritis liniment. I'll have some for him set aside," Bilbo said and Sam's face lit up.
"Oh, that's kind of you sir. Da feels so much better since you started him on that liniment."
"I'm glad to hear that. Well, don't let me keep you," Bilbo said and smiled, "I'll bet you're off to see your sweetheart aren't you?" he teased. Sam's face flushed red.
"If that's what you heard, then someone's been telling a tale on me, sir," he said, clasping his hands, "I'm just off home." Bilbo crossed his arms schooling his face to look sympathetic.
"No sweetheart? That's too bad my lad, but no matter. You run along now," he said. Sam flashed him another grin and set off down the hall calling as he reached the door,
"Good night Mr. Bilbo. Sleep well, and tell Mr. Frodo, I said good night too." Bilbo chuckled.
"I certainly will."
The next morning Bilbo stood in the kitchen watching as Sam measured ingredients and tended the stove. They were making pie and Sam was stirring the pot of blackberries on the stove, breathing the sweet fumes with a dreamy look on his face.
"More sugar I think," Bilbo said, leaning over to take a whiff himself, "Yes, half a cup if you would, lad."
"Yes, sir," Sam said and went for the sugar bowl. Bilbo watched him speculatively and reflected that he had better enjoy these moments. The Gaffer had positively threatened to make Sam full time gardener next year and there would be no more time for cooking and reading lessons. Still, that was probably years off; as much as Hamfast Gamgee complained about his arthritis he would not give up tending Bag End's gardens until he truly was no longer up to the task.
"Sam, I wonder if I might talk to you about something, but you would have to keep it secret, understand?" he said. Sam turned to him, eyes wide and face solemn.
"Yes Mr. Bilbo?" he said.
"Well, I wouldn't bring this up, but I need help with Frodo, you see, and you're young, you might know about these things…" Bilbo said and Sam sat on a kitchen chair, peering at him across the table, open faced with his head cocked to one side. "It's about lads courting other lads," Bilbo said and watched as Sam's eyes widened and he sat back. Whatever he had expected Bilbo to ask, this had not been it. "Have you ever heard of it happening? Around here?" Bilbo asked. Sam smiled and looked down, chuckling.
"S'not talked on much, but aye, I've heard tell of it," he squinted at his master, "and I suspect you've heard tell about it too, sir," he said. Bilbo snorted. The boy knew him all too well. "What does this have to do with Mr. Frodo? If I can ask," Sam said and sat forward again, "… Is he courting someone?"
"No," Bilbo said slowly, "I'm wondering if he could court a lad around here, if he wanted. I'd like to help him get set up with someone." Sam smiled.
"Most folks don't want their lads courting other lads, but you're trying to match-make Mr. Frodo with a lad?" he asked.
"I'm not called Mad Baggins for nothing, you understand," Bilbo said.
"Well, there's plenty of lads about sir," Sam said slowly, "Though I don't know much about the gentlehobbits you understand. You might need to talk to some of them to see who might be interested."
"I'm not sure that would go down well. Imagine me interviewing prospective young bucks, or rather their parents," Bilbo chuckled and Sam made an agreeable noise as he sipped more tea. Bilbo snorted and added, "Can you imagine me going into one of the fancy county estates, 'Good morning Mrs. Brumbyfoot, I wonder if I might inquire to the eligibility of your boy. I wish to introduce him to my nephew and wondered if he would be so inclined to a nice walking out occasion… Yes, I did say nephew." Bilbo watched in delight as Sam snorted into his hand, laughing helplessly.
"Lor' Mr. Bilbo," he cried. Bilbo shook his head.
"As much fun as that might be, I don't think it would get us very far. No, and I don't think that's really the problem, anyway."
"What is then, sir?" Sam asked. Bilbo frowned and toyed with the flour still on the counter from when they had rolled out the dough. He hadn't really intended to tell Sam everything but he trusted the boy implicitly and he truly didn't know what to say to Frodo in any case.
"The problem is, Samwise… that Frodo was told some rather untrue things about it, back at the Hall and it seems he's held on to these notions," Bilbo said slowly, "And I've told him that I don't think badly of him for liking lads… I'm hardly one to call him out for being a bit queer... but he's terribly embarrassed and it upset him to talk about what happened in Buckland." Sam went still and stared, frowning.
"What was that, sir?" he asked quietly, then shook his head, "No, it don't matter. I'm guessing he courted a lad and those Brandybucks didn't like it much." Sam's frown deepened. "Were they very unkind to Mr. Frodo?"
"Yes, I'm afraid they were," Bilbo said and decided quickly to distract Sam, "Maybe you could talk to him about it?" Sam looked up in surprise, his mouth hanging open.
"Me?" he cried, "I can't talk to Mr. Frodo about that!"
"Why not?" Bilbo asked, pouring himself a cup of tea, "You're talking to me about it." Sam glanced away and looked pensive.
"It… Mr. Frodo's different," he mumbled uncomfortably. Bilbo smiled and tried not to look pleased.
"I wonder if you've ever thought of courting him?" he said quietly. Sam froze and stared.
"Eh?" the boy said, thrown so far off he forgot to be polite. Bilbo smiled only a little.
"Yes, you. Have you ever thought of courting Frodo?" he repeated and took Sam's cup, refilling it. Sam didn't move, only continued to stare, but Bilbo refused to be defeated. Finally, he stood and went to the stove. "The blackberries have thickened enough, I think," he said and took them from the burner. "Well?" he prompted.
"I… can't say I have thought of it," Sam said thickly.
"Well, what do you think of the idea?" Bilbo asked gently.
"I couldn't, sir," Sam said earnestly.
"Oh, why not?" Bilbo said, turning to look at the still gaping Sam. Sam cast a defensive look at Bilbo, as if he were afraid he were being made fun of.
"He's a gentlehobbit," he said frowning.
"You've got something against gentlehobbits?" Bilbo asked. Sam crossed his arms.
"Of course I haven't," he grumbled.
"Oh, maybe you don't find him attractive then?" Bilbo asked and watched Sam blush spectacularly and hide his face.
"Mr. Bilbo!"
"I'm sorry Sam, I shouldn't tease," Bilbo said, returning to the table. "I know you care very deeply for Frodo." Sam's hands came down and he peered speculatively at Bilbo.
"That I do," Sam mumbled.
"And you've… some liking for the lads, unless I've heard wrong," he added. Sam's eyes rounded and his face went a deep shade of red.
"Sir?" he squeaked. Bilbo shrugged, making light of it.
"I suppose your Gaffer didn't care for you taking up with that Tunnelly boy a few seasons ago?" Sam choked, gripping the table unsteadily.
"Oh come along, then," Bilbo said. Sam took up his teacup and sipped gingerly before raising his eyes to Bilbo again.
"Lor sir, but you do know everything that happens in Hobbiton, don't you?"
"Nearly," Bilbo said, feeling pleased. He hadn't been sure that Sam had really been involved with the Tunnelly boy in that fashion, but hints and gossip from the old Tunnelly matriarch had made it a likely guess.
"Well, you have my full approval to court Frodo, if that helps," Bilbo said. Sam stopped and looked up helplessly.
"You'd let me court him?" he asked.
"Yes," Bilbo said stubbornly, "Of course I would. You're a good lad and you already told me you care for him." Sam sighed and didn't answer. "If it's only a class divide I can't see that as an insurmountable barrier. I mean, you've learned to read, and that's not exactly looked on as proper is it?" Sam looked down frowning. "I suppose what I'm asking, Sam," Bilbo said, dropping his light tone, "is if you find the idea at all appealing. Set aside the class divide and any of the other nonsense and think if you could love him." Sam stared at him wide-eyed and stricken. He swallowed and looked down at the floor, his face pained.
"I don't know," he said softly, "I like lads fine, but I don't know if I could feel right courting him. Maybe I could. He's dearer to me than any other, but even if you say put aside my place, I can't really do that. And folks already say I'm reaching higher than is my place," he said quietly, "and that's just from learning to read."
"Ah, but you told me you didn't give a curse. That reading is too dear to you," Bilbo said proudly. Sam winced.
"Aye, but even if I don't care, it does cause problems; and the problems from learning to read ain't nothing compared to the problems that would come of courting Mr. Frodo."
"That is true," Bilbo admitted and turned back to the pie filling. "Help me fill the dough?" Sam stood and went to the counter, and taking a spoon helped lay down the pie filling. "Still," Bilbo mused, "I can't help but think those problems could be worked out and borne by a lad like you. If you don't mind me saying, you can be a bit stubborn once you set your heart on something." Sam sighed and didn't answer. Bilbo cocked his head and watched the boy working through the problem in his head.
"He don't think on me any such way," Sam said finally, "So as nice as that is of you to say, it don't make it so. And I'd-" he broke off and stared at the floor going on in a quiet voice, "I'd shame him, sir."
"Shame him, Sam?" Bilbo asked.
"Yes sir. He'd not have me," Sam sighed.
"You're so sure of that?" Bilbo asked and Sam nodded, looking crestfallen.
"I'm little-Samwise-the-tag-along to him," he said quietly. "He couldn't think of me any other way."
"That is what courting is for, isn't it?" Bilbo asked and Sam looked up, bewildered. "It's for convincing your one-to-be that the two of you would work as a pair; Though I'm not an expert on the matter, granted." Sam pondered that, looking overwhelmed.
"You said it embarrasses him," Sam mumbled.
"It embarrasses him to talk about it with me," Bilbo said.
"Maybe he don't even like lads anymore," Sam said and Bilbo scowled.
"You're looking for excuses, Samwise!" he said and then changed his mind, "We need whiskey."
"I beg your pardon sir?" Sam said, but Bilbo had already moved out of the room to the cold cellar.
"Be back in a moment," he called and retrieved his whiskey bottle. "This is fine grain whiskey," Bilbo said proudly as he returned to the kitchen, "the Tooks send me a bottle from time to time and it is good stuff. We'll just mix it with a little soda water, shall we?" Sam watched the proceedings with amused bewilderment. Bilbo chuckled at his expression. "Let's see, drinking spirits before noon, encouraging you to court a lad, and a gentlehobbit lad at that, and worst of all, in a few minutes we'll have a reading lesson. I think that's just about everything I can do to scandalize your father."
"Just about sir," Sam agreed, chuckling.
Bilbo sent Sam home after a long day of cooking and reading and gardening in the afternoon. The old master had said little more on the matter of courting Frodo except for Sam to think the matter over before making a decision.
"After all, this would be your affair lad," Bilbo had said, "You'll be the one to reap the rewards or suffer the consequences no matter what I say. I will try and help you of course, but it must be your decision. Give it some time and let me know what you decide." Sam had agreed quietly, still feeling light headed that he was openly discussing the matter, with the master no less.
Late that afternoon he had come to bid Bilbo goodnight and found his master pouring over Burfoot's Landed Gentry. He had winked at Sam.
"Just pursuing the old stud book, should you decide against pursing the courtship. But really Sam, you're quite preferable to," he paused and glanced down, "Rudoby Burrowbound of Crilly Hall; born 1372, eldest son of Bonbus Burrowbound Esquire of Deephallow, now of Willowbottom." Sam had blushed and hadn't known what to say to that. Mr. Bilbo was a caution and no mistake, Sam reminded himself.
It was a ridiculous notion really, Sam's hobbit sense told him. He had admired Frodo, the same as many others had, but it was like admiring the prize wedding cake in the West Farthing Fall Fair; it was beautiful and fine piece of work that might make your mouth water but it was strictly off limits, and knowing you'd never have such a thing dampened any wanting. It was much more satisfying to find a candy apple that you could have. Sam paused and examined his metaphor for a moment before deciding that it was vaguely insulting; though he couldn't decide if it was more insulting to the gentlehobbit or the baked goods.
Despite that, the matter was still very interesting, Sam thought. To know that Frodo liked lads was a revelation in and of itself. Sam had assumed the heir to the Hill liked lasses; he certainly was popular with them and he was kept busy at the dances with wave after wave of partners. He and Frodo had even talked of lasses, comparing the beauties of the village and once last fall when they had fallen into their cups in the back garden, Frodo had told him which ones he had kissed.
Sam himself liked lasses, two or three in particular, though he had not got much farther than kisses, as tween lasses were carefully watched by their parents. Lads had been the natural alternative and Sam had relieved quite a lot of tension with Fin Tunnelly. That had not been courtship though. Rubbing each other in the woods had been the extent of that relationship and when Fin wanted to make it more Sam had decided there were easier ways to relieve tension that didn't set the Gaffer's back up so badly. Fin wasn't worth that, and as much as Sam missed the friendly palm, he had broken it off. He then half-heartedly courted Dandy Brokenboring but she was, even by Sam's standards, hopelessly dimwitted. The only reason he had tried was that she had been free enough to sit in his lap once when they went walking out and let him rub against her. That relationship had come abruptly to an end when Dandy suggested he plant tomatoes under Number Three's maple tree on the north facing side of the smial.
He had been willing to let her down easy, but she had been so insistent about where to plant the tomatoes that Sam had been rather more blunt than he was usually known to be. What resulted led to a shouting match in the middle of Bagshot Row. Sam was still hearing about that from the widow, though the Gaffer had approved. Sam had since sworn off courting, at least for the time being, and tried to focus on his work. There was, he told himself, plenty of time.
And now Mr. Bilbo had given him permission to court the future Master of Bag End, future richest hobbit in the farthing, discounting the Tooks of course, and heir to most of the lands Sam had ever known. He was being encouraged to court the gentle fair and kind young master that he had looked up to most of his life, and Sam found with some alarm, that he was considering the proposal seriously.
"Heaven help me," Sam murmured to himself as he sat outside that evening, smoking to calm his nerves. He gazed at the stars and found himself shivering, though it was far from cold on this May night. If Bilbo's idea was pure foolishness it would not be affecting him so; it was that grain of possibility that made his heart pound and his senses go numb with terror.
He had caught Frodo looking at him in the year past with an expression that Sam would have called interest if it had been on any other lad's face, but because it was Frodo he had immediately dismissed the notion. Anything Frodo felt for him had to be innocent interest, as if Sam had surprised him by being clever, or funny perhaps. It wasn't desire, it wasn't interest of that sort, he had always felt. The problem was that Bilbo's words were turning all those assumption on their heads and now Sam didn't feel so sure of how Frodo might regard him.
"Nay, if there is anything then it's like how I feel for him," Sam told himself quietly. Frodo might admire him, but it was admiration from a distance, knowing you could never have the one you admired so it was harmless, really. "Aye, he probably hasn't thought much more on it than that," Sam assured himself. "He hasn't had Mr. Bilbo telling him things… Making him think…" Sam pulled his pipe from his teeth and blew out a puff of smoke. "Save me but now I'm thinking things I have no business thinking."
Like how it would be to kiss Frodo. He had never kissed a lad; kissing had not been a priority in his exchanges with Fin. Sam liked kissing the lasses but he felt himself go hot at the thought of kissing a lad and couldn't imagine why he had never tried it with Fin. It wouldn't be as soft as a lass, he supposed, and another lad mightn't be as shy, might even make the first move and catch Sam in his grip.
"Oh mercy," Sam sighed and thought about the times Fin had pinned him against a tree and held him there, rubbing him. For all that Sam had been strong enough to break Fin's grip he had found himself helpless and shivering for that touch. What would it be like to be held helpless in Frodo's thrall?
And what would Mr. Bilbo think of Sam having such thoughts on his heir? Sam chided himself, and then remembered that it had been Bilbo that suggested Sam regard Frodo with an eye toward matters more carnal.
"No he didn't," Sam muttered, "He said court. He wants me to court him." Courting wasn't something Sam associated with lads, though he supposed he ought to be ashamed at such thinking. One as special as Frodo ought to be afforded respect and care. And more than that, Sam supposed, he ought to be loved. That thought stopped Sam short and he put his pipe back in his mouth and sat for a long moment in silence.
Of course, Mr. Bilbo wasn't looking for Sam to take a tumble with his heir, nor even a convenient lad about who could relieve Frodo's loneliness. No, he was looking for someone who would love Frodo, who could care for and be cared for by his heir. Apparently he saw that person in Sam, or at least in a future Sam.
"What in the Shire-land are you doing out here, lad?" came the Gaffer's voice. Sam jumped a little; he hadn't heard the door he had been so deep in his thoughts.
"Nought da," he mumbled, "Having a pipe afore bed."
"That brings on the hag," the Gaffer grumbled at him, "You know better." Sam chuckled.
"Mayhap I do," he agreed, "the pipe's only an excuse for a quiet spell to think and be out of the smial." Sam sighed, knowing his dad wouldn't like that and sure enough the Gaffer snorted.
"You think too much Samwise," he growled, "You don't earn your keep for thinking, lad. It's doing that is a Gamgee's work. What were you thinking on?"
"Courting," Sam said, knowing better than to lie or try and evade his dad. The Gaffer made a far more agreeable noise.
"Well, that's all right then," he said. "Who are you setting to court?"
"Don't know that I'm setting to," Sam said slowly. "Just wondering on it… on who." He didn't want to get any closer to the truth than that.
"Well there's several lasses had their eyes on you. You'd best speak afore they get caught by some other lad, all but you're not near come of age. These things get started in tweens and stay set you know," the Gaffer advised.
"Aye, but how do you court proper?" Sam asked suddenly and the Gaffer turned to stare at him. Sam frowned and looked away, "I know the asking to walk out and all, but I think I blunder the rest."
"You can start by not calling her daft-witted ninny when she don't know aught about sun plants and shade plants. You jest leave that be. Not everyone is a gardener." He huffed, "Even if that is just sense."
"How did you court mam?" Sam asked shyly. His dad didn't talk much on Bell, not since she passed.
"Nought special," the Gaffer said gruffly. "Walked out with her, brought her flowers and trinkets I made for her. Found sommat we could talk on and gave her compliments… And I sang to her." Sam cast a surprised look at his dad. He had never heard his dad sing anything that might be fit for a lass's ear. The younger Gamgee snuffed his pipe and watched the smoke rise and drift away.
"Does that help?" the Gaffer asked and Sam nodded slowly.
"Aye… I think so," he murmured. The sat in silence a moment until the Gaffer cleared his throat.
"And don't do all your thinking with your cock," he said gruffly and Sam tried not to choke. "You haven't many wits lad, but use what you have. Go for the one that will make you happy, not the one is most free." Sam took a deep breath, flushed with shame as he realized that up until this point that was exactly what he had done.
"Yes sir," he said.
"I'm off to bed and if you've sense you'll do the same," the Gaffer said and turned, pushing through the smial door.
"Goodnight da. I'll just be a moment," Sam said trying to keep his voice steady. The one to make you happy…
Sam sat quietly and stared into the night for a long time before rising and stretching against the cricks in his joints. He let out a long sigh and gazed up at the dark hill above him before turning to find his bed.
Sam went about his duties in a bit of a fog for the next week until his father shouted at him for being more addle brained than usual and Sam made an effort to refocus his attentions. It was late in the week when Sam found himself trimming the hedges and whistling, breaking off every once in a while to gaze out over the countryside. Summer leaves were in full flourish and the lands around him were swathed in rich greens and yellows that made the young gardener's head swim. Glory but its all fine to look at from up on the hill, he thought. There was a call from across the garden and Sam turned at the sound of his name. He saw Bilbo on the front path waving him over so Sam lowered his shears and tucked them into his tool box before going to see what the master wanted.
"Sam-lad, I'm sending Frodo out to the eastern farms to collect rents and get some papers. The Browntrees invited him to pick strawberries from their fields and I want you to go and help him. We need enough for jam making."
"Yes sir," Sam said and noticed Frodo sitting on the bower bench. Frodo cast an apologetic look at him and Sam grinned in response. Bilbo pushed several large baskets nested within one another into Sam's hands.
"Bilbo! We'll strip their fields if we fill those baskets," Frodo cried springing up.
"Nonsense," Bilbo snorted, "There's plenty in the fields and anyway its part of the agreement we have with the family. They'll be insulted if you only take a basket or two."
"If you say so," Frodo said ruefully. "Are you ready Sam?" Sam looked up and nodded.
"Just let me put my tools away and I'll be ready."
"Meet me down at the front gate then," Frodo said and took the baskets from him. Sam turned about to rush off to the hedge when he caught Bilbo watching him. The old master winked at him and Sam turned away, afraid he would blush or laugh. The old master was a rascal, Sam thought cheekily, if this trip to the east farms had been contrived to set him and Frodo together. It was a long walk out there on mostly deserted roads, after all. Sam felt a blush creeping over his face.
He had not given Bilbo an answer yet. It was pure madness to think he could court Frodo and more than once in the last week he had almost gone to Bilbo and told him so, but there was that niggling little doubt that crept over him and stopped him whenever he tried. The memories of close talks he and Frodo had shared, the peace he felt in the other lad's presence spoke to the thought that Frodo might be the one to make him happy. The Gaffer would be horrified to think that Sam was interpreting his advice in such a way, but Sam couldn't stop the thoughts now that he had started on them. Still, thoughts were one thing, actions another. He would sooner enter a boat race on the Brandywine in full flood than do anything to upset Frodo.
"Sam-lad stop dithering!" Frodo called from the lane and Sam turned to see the young master watching him fiddle with his tools, "We do want to get back before sunset don't we?" he teased.
"Yes sir, sorry sir," Sam said and snapped his tool box closed and took it off quickly to the shed. He raced back down the path and let himself out through the little gate and put himself at Frodo's side, looking at him expectantly. Frodo gave him a brief smile and handed him two of the baskets to carry.
"I'm sorry to trouble you with this. I know you have work to do. Bilbo gets greedy with strawberries and I think he wants you along to make sure I don't shirk my duty."
"Tis no bother sir and I'm happy to help," Sam said peaceably, "Anyway, that jam will go to half the families in the farthing."
"You always see the best in cousin Bilbo," Frodo smiled as they turned off the lane and descended the hillside.
"Mr. Bilbo says always try and see the best in people. I can't always, but I try. I do try, sir," Sam said, his thoughts straying guiltily to the miller's son and the trouncing Sam had given him last month when Ted insulted the youngest Gamgee daughter's honor.
"Good for you," Frodo said quietly. "And good old Bilbo. He's such a wise old dear." There was a brief pause and Frodo asked quietly, "You love him too, don't you?"
"Yes sir," Sam answered and was surprised at how easy that was to admit.
"I'm glad," Frodo said warmly and slid his arm around Sam's elbow. Sam bit his lip and suppressed a shiver. He thinks of me as a child, he thought ruefully as Frodo began to whistle. They were moving out into the fields now away from the row homes and kitchen gardens.
"I went down to the orchard the other day. It looks as though the plum trees and the cherry trees are loaded," Frodo said, looking out along the hedge rows.
"That they are, sir," Sam agreed, "It was all that rain we had in early spring. In a week or two I can start picking and you can have cherry tarts and plum pudding and fresh fruit for tea and Mr. Bilbo has been teaching me pie making. Did you get any of the blackberry pie we made the other day?" Sam was vaguely aware that he was jabbering but Frodo had never minded before.
"Oh you made that? It was lovely. I had some for tea yesterday with cream and honey drizzled on top."
"Lor but that sounds wonderful," Sam sighed.
"I'm making you hungry aren't I?" Frodo murmured. Sam kept the blush out of his cheeks but coughed slightly.
"Er, thirsty actually. Can we stop at the creek?" he asked.
"I've got my waterskin," Frodo said and pulled his arm away to root in the mail bag strapped to his side.
"Oh that's-" Sam babbled but Frodo pushed it into his hands, ignoring his protest with an indulgent look. Sam uncapped the leather bladder and drank.
"Have as much as you like. We can refill it at the creek," Frodo said.
"Thank you sir," Sam said. They walked another mile in relative silence until they found the creek at Porter's Bridge. Sam ducked under the bridge and refilled Frodo's water skin, handing it back up to him. Frodo took it and with a slight hum threw back his head and gulped down the creek water. Sam watched him in silence until Frodo lowered the skin and noticed Sam's gaze.
"What?" he demanded. Sam grinned helplessly and reach up for the skin again. "I'm not done, Samwise," Frodo said, a smile threatening his face, "and for your information there is no gentlehobbit way to drink from a waterskin." Sam sat back on his haunches.
"Then is there a gentlehobbit way to drink from a creek? That seems just as messy." Frodo gazed down at the creek.
"I always cupped my hands and drank quickly before it all leaked out," he said.
"That's what I do," Sam said and decided he was still thirsty and bent to the creek.
"You have to remember my training as a gentlehobbit was spotty at best," Frodo sighed. Sam paused in his drinking to look up.
"You're a fine gentlehobbit, sir," Sam said. Frodo raised his eyebrows skeptically but then seemed to change his mind and gave Sam a slight smile.
"Thank you Sam," he said. "Just don't try and push that theory on any of my relations." He passed the skin back and stood stretching. Sam refilled the skin once more and capped it, frowning. He was lost in a memory of Frodo catching him by the collar when he had been six years old and wiping his grubby face with a handkerchief. Sam had stood there and let him with nary a thought that such wasn't proper, that it weren't done by gentlehobbits for servant babes. He had taken Frodo's care for granted and realized that he still took much of it for granted.
"Sam?" Sam jolted out of thought and looked up at Frodo who was watching him with a slight frown.
"You're more of a gentlehobbit than any of your relations, save Mr. Bilbo, cause of how you care for us all," he said in a rush. Frodo's eyes went wide and Sam closed his mouth with a snap. What was wrong with him? Why did he keep blurting out stupid things to Frodo? He squeezed his eyes shut and let out a sigh. He could never hope to have enough finesse to court a gentlehobbit.
He nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt the warm weight of hands settle on his shoulders and opened his eyes to see Frodo peering at him with a puzzled smile.
"Sam-dear, what has gotten in to you today?" he asked. Sam hung his head.
"I don't know Mr. Frodo," he said miserably. Frodo gave him a sympathetic look and squeezed his shoulder before letting go.
"Poor Sam," he said, "You are a sweet lad. I know you think you're silly but you really do cheer me up. Thank you for saying those things." He turned away and Sam couldn't help a smile spreading over his face. If Frodo was cheered by him being a fool, well that was a service Sam Gamgee could provide.
"Come on, we need to walk faster," Frodo said, "the Browntrees are last on the lane and we need to get there with an hour of daylight at least for the picking that Bilbo wants."
"Oh, how many other farms are we visiting?" Sam asked, bounding back up onto the path.
"The Greybarrows and the Goodbodys," Frodo said, "They should be quick though."
They were quick. Frodo paused long enough to have a cup of tea and talk politely with the gammers of the farms, as the males were out in the field, and then they were off again, heading down the dusty road. The papers Bilbo wanted were tucked neatly in Frodo's bag and Sam could hear the paper crackle as the bag moved against Frodo's side.
"Have you heard any new songs at the Dragon?" Frodo asked. Sam immediately thought of the one he had heard just last week but its theme centered on an unfortunate shepherd who took some bad medicine and his resulting bowel troubles. Bill Proudfoot had thought it very funny.
"Er. No," Sam said quickly and felt his face got hot at the idea of singing such a thing in Frodo's presence. He took a pill without reading the box, Before he could strip, turds were flying like rocks. "What about you sir?" Sam asked.
"Haven't heard anything new. I don't get out much you know," Frodo said ruefully, "My cousins think I'm an awful duffer. But then they think everyone who doesn't go dancing every week is a duffer."
"Well, Hobbiton isn't as lively as what I've heard of Buckland," Sam said amiably. They walked up the incline to the Browntree farm and found Mrs. Browntree feeding chickens in front of the smial. She looked up at their approach and gave a gap toothed grin.
"Afternoon Mr. Frodo. Mr. Bilbo must have sent you? He did seem keen on them strawberries." she went to the window and set her basket of corn down.
"Yes Mistress," Frodo said politely, "Maybe a little too keen. I hope he hasn't bullied you into promising him more than he ought to be getting." The farm wife turned back giving Frodo a smile that made the skin at the corners of her eyes crinkle with mirth.
"Bless you Mr. Frodo, but we've got a bumper crop of berries and they need picking before they rot in the field or the birds get at them. Mr. Bilbo is more than welcome to them and he give us a tidy discount on the rent for it, so you take as much as you can carry and eat as many as you like, you too Sam-lad." Sam touched his cap and gave a little smile of gratitude. She glanced at the sky, "You'd best get picking. I'll just heat the kettle and call you when the tea is done." Frodo bowed, touching his own cap and thanked her in smooth tones, while Sam looked on admiringly. Bilbo had long ago warned Sam of Frodo's ability to lay on charm when he truly put his mind to it. "Just be mindful lad," Bilbo had cautioned, "my boy will have you catering to his every whim with a flash of those bright eyes and honeyed words. He's very Brandybuckish in that way." It was good that Bilbo had warned him for Sam had found he had a weakness for those eyes. Not that Frodo ever turned that charm on him. Not that Sam would have minded if he had.
"You didn't tell her we already had tea…twice?" Sam murmured as they made their way to the rear of the smial to the strawberry fields.
"It would disappoint her if I refused," Frodo murmured back, "she would feel as though she was not giving us good care as a host." Sam nodded slowly. They set to work picking the berries and Sam fell into the rhythm of work easily bent to the field. He filled one basket quickly and turned to see Frodo picking more slowly, looking uncomfortable in his hot weskit, crouched in the dirt. Sam almost offered to finish the picking himself, but such an offer would make Frodo feel foolish and useless. Sam knew how embarrassing it was to feel useless, so he kept his mouth shut and began filling the next basket. A thought occurred to him then and he sat back, taking a berry and munched on it, enjoying the sun warmed sweet fruit. He ate slowly and cast a sly grin Frodo's way. Frodo watched him and tried to look stern, but Sam could tell he was faking.
"I would accuse you of shirking but I see you've already picked twice as much as me," Frodo said ruefully. Sam laughed. Mrs. Browntree brought them cups filled to the brim with hot weak herb tea but Sam was grateful for the pause and sat enjoying his cup looking over the fields. He gauged the light and estimated they only had another hour of strong daylight. He heard a sighed next to him and turned to see Frodo peering into his own cup, looking dreamy and disconnected from his surroundings.
"Are you tired Mr. Frodo?" he asked quietly. Frodo's eyes lifted and he focused on Sam for a moment before shaking his head.
"No. This just reminds me of Buckland," he said, "I haven't done work in a field in years." Sam reflected on his own numerous trips to the Cotton farm to help with the haying or planting. "Not that this is field work," Frodo sighed again, "But in Buckland we would work for hours in the sun and take rests like this by the field side and then tramp back to the Hall together. I miss being in a group like that sometimes, I think." Sam stared, shocked by the notion of Frodo doing manual labor in a field and felt ashamed that he should have thought his master so soft. "But," Frodo went on with a smile, "I'd still not trade those few moments of happiness for the life I have now. For all the companionship Brandy Hall offered I never felt as though it was my home, more like a temporary barracks. Bilbo makes me feel so wanted and at home, and I haven't felt that since…" he broke off and smiled, sipping his tea. "And I feel like I can do some good here. Back at the Hall I was a tag-along and a bother, but here I have a purpose. I want to help the people of the West Farthing feel secure against shortage and scarcity, I want to preserve the folk tales and translate the great tales and tell them to the little lads and lasses who would otherwise never know anything of the peoples beyond the Shire," he took another sip of tea and added quietly, "I want to please you all so very much."
"You do Mr. Frodo…" Sam murmured. Frodo laughed and shook his head.
"Hardly. I don't fit in here. The folk of the West Farthing think me a nuisance, I'm sure. Still, it's a nice thing to aspire to I suppose." Sam gulped. He had been spellbound by Frodo's outpouring. The young master hardly ever spoke with such heart felt tones and his voice had softened, deepening as he spoke his piece. Was it right, Sam wondered, that he should be so affected by a lad's voice, that it should send shivers down his back and a flush to his face? Right or no, he couldn't help the desire to hear Frodo speak like that again, and his mind was already spinning fancies of Frodo standing close to him and speaking into his ear, soft words in that deep heartfelt tone.
Frodo turned and looked up, his eyes catching the light and froze Sam where he sat. Sweet stars above, Sam thought,save me… If I didn't love him before… Frodo smiled and pulled Sam's hand into his own. Sam closed his eyes against the throbbing pulse beating through him.
"Dear Sam," he smiled, "enough talk I suppose, we had better finish the baskets or Bilbo will have both our hides." He dropped Sam's hand and plucked the last basket, setting out into the field. Sam rose more slowly, cradling his own hand and stared. He felt dizzy but it wouldn't do to be caught staring so he ambled along, following Frodo and the last basket.
If he led me into a thistle patch I think I'd follow him, Sam thought frantically, even if it was filled with bees and poison holly and and… and was on fire. Sam winced and bent to begin picking, gazing at Frodo furtively. Bloody damnation, he thought resignedly, why does Bilbo Baggins have to be right about everything?