Disclaimer: I no own. You no sue.
Reviews welcomed. *nods*
Dedicated to shirebound, for her kindness and encouragement.
Spring
Spring was always Sam's favorite season. He loved to watch his father work in the little garden at Bag End, making the plants thrive and grow under his care. Often, Bilbo would bring them their tea outside, chilled, and sometimes the Gaffer let Sam help plant, water, or prune the flowers. His chubby little hands became swift and deft as he dealt with the resilient marigolds, the prickly roses, and the tiny and delicate daisies. He loved helping his father, and there was no time he felt more content then at the end of the day when his rosy, suntanned face was covered in smears of dirt, and his hands were sore from a long day's work. But Sam's favorite days of all were the days when Frodo would join them outside. He would sit on a garden bench reading a book or writing, and would always talk to Sam; telling him funny jokes and wonderful stories. Sam thought Frodo's stories were almost as good as Mr. Bilbo's.
But unfortunately, these days were few and far between. Bilbo explained to Sam that Frodo couldn't join them as much as he would like because the garden made him sneeze. Sam didn't understand. Was he sick? Didn't he like the garden? Bilbo assured Sam that Frodo wasn't sick, and he did enjoy looking at the garden, especially the roses. This gave Sam an idea.
One day when Frodo was inside and the Gaffer was talking with Bilbo, Sam snuck over to the garden and plucked the biggest, reddest rose he could find. After all, if he took the flower inside it wouldn't be a problem. Bilbo had said the garden made Frodo sneeze, not the flowers themselves. Sam quietly tiptoed down the hall to Frodo's room and opened the door. "Hello Mr. Frodo!" He said, jumping onto the bed next to Frodo's desk. He had tucked the rose into his back pocket.
"Sam, it's wonderful to see you. I'm just finishing up some of the elvish lessons Uncle Bilbo gave me. Do you want to take a look?"
Sam nodded, climbed onto Frodo's lap, looking down at the piece of white parchment on the desk in front of him. It was covered in complicated curves, dots, and squiggles in black ink that Sam recognized as Frodo's handwriting. Sam listed intently as Frodo began to speak.
"I'm practicing different elvish words and their meanings. You see here, this is the elvish word for friend, "mellon". And this one," Frodo pointed to another word on the parchment, "means sun. Now you see...
Frodo's words were broken off by what seemed to Sam like an endless strain of sneezes. When he was finally done, he wiped his watery blue eyes with a handkerchief and gave Sam a queer half-smile.
"Samwise...do you have something you want to show me?"
Sam realized he might have been wrong about the flower, but he knew that if he didn't confess he would get in trouble.
"Mr. Frodo I'm sorry I brought you a rose because Mr. Bilbo told me you liked them but I didn't know it would make you sick..." Sam's words came out in a rush.
"Calm down Sam!" Frodo exclaimed. He leaned down and stoked Sam's golden brown curls. Sam was quietly crying, and Frodo wiped away his tears.
"Slow down, and start again. I promise I won't be upset."
"Oh Mr. Frodo, I'm so sorry. I brought you a present, a rose. I didn't know it would make you sneeze. I'm sorry..."
To Sam's surprise, Frodo began to laugh. "You silly little Gamgee. Why would I be mad at you? It's the thought that counts, that's what Bilbo always says; and it's true. Now dry your tears and let me see that rose."
Sam held out the rose in one chubby hand and gave it to Frodo.
"Oh, Samwise, it's beautiful. Thank you so much," Frodo said, his delicate features clearly bracing for another sneezing attack. "How about we go outside. It's just about nightfall, and we can watch the sunset together. Spring sunsets are always lovely, and the garden is the best place to watch them from. This elvish can wait for later. All right?"
Sam nodded, hopped off Frodo's lap, and took his hand. Frodo smiled and squeezed Sam's in return. Then they walked down the hall and through Bag End's round, green door into the spring sunset.
Dedicated to shirebound, for her kindness and encouragement.
Spring
Spring was always Sam's favorite season. He loved to watch his father work in the little garden at Bag End, making the plants thrive and grow under his care. Often, Bilbo would bring them their tea outside, chilled, and sometimes the Gaffer let Sam help plant, water, or prune the flowers. His chubby little hands became swift and deft as he dealt with the resilient marigolds, the prickly roses, and the tiny and delicate daisies. He loved helping his father, and there was no time he felt more content then at the end of the day when his rosy, suntanned face was covered in smears of dirt, and his hands were sore from a long day's work. But Sam's favorite days of all were the days when Frodo would join them outside. He would sit on a garden bench reading a book or writing, and would always talk to Sam; telling him funny jokes and wonderful stories. Sam thought Frodo's stories were almost as good as Mr. Bilbo's.
But unfortunately, these days were few and far between. Bilbo explained to Sam that Frodo couldn't join them as much as he would like because the garden made him sneeze. Sam didn't understand. Was he sick? Didn't he like the garden? Bilbo assured Sam that Frodo wasn't sick, and he did enjoy looking at the garden, especially the roses. This gave Sam an idea.
One day when Frodo was inside and the Gaffer was talking with Bilbo, Sam snuck over to the garden and plucked the biggest, reddest rose he could find. After all, if he took the flower inside it wouldn't be a problem. Bilbo had said the garden made Frodo sneeze, not the flowers themselves. Sam quietly tiptoed down the hall to Frodo's room and opened the door. "Hello Mr. Frodo!" He said, jumping onto the bed next to Frodo's desk. He had tucked the rose into his back pocket.
"Sam, it's wonderful to see you. I'm just finishing up some of the elvish lessons Uncle Bilbo gave me. Do you want to take a look?"
Sam nodded, climbed onto Frodo's lap, looking down at the piece of white parchment on the desk in front of him. It was covered in complicated curves, dots, and squiggles in black ink that Sam recognized as Frodo's handwriting. Sam listed intently as Frodo began to speak.
"I'm practicing different elvish words and their meanings. You see here, this is the elvish word for friend, "mellon". And this one," Frodo pointed to another word on the parchment, "means sun. Now you see...
Frodo's words were broken off by what seemed to Sam like an endless strain of sneezes. When he was finally done, he wiped his watery blue eyes with a handkerchief and gave Sam a queer half-smile.
"Samwise...do you have something you want to show me?"
Sam realized he might have been wrong about the flower, but he knew that if he didn't confess he would get in trouble.
"Mr. Frodo I'm sorry I brought you a rose because Mr. Bilbo told me you liked them but I didn't know it would make you sick..." Sam's words came out in a rush.
"Calm down Sam!" Frodo exclaimed. He leaned down and stoked Sam's golden brown curls. Sam was quietly crying, and Frodo wiped away his tears.
"Slow down, and start again. I promise I won't be upset."
"Oh Mr. Frodo, I'm so sorry. I brought you a present, a rose. I didn't know it would make you sneeze. I'm sorry..."
To Sam's surprise, Frodo began to laugh. "You silly little Gamgee. Why would I be mad at you? It's the thought that counts, that's what Bilbo always says; and it's true. Now dry your tears and let me see that rose."
Sam held out the rose in one chubby hand and gave it to Frodo.
"Oh, Samwise, it's beautiful. Thank you so much," Frodo said, his delicate features clearly bracing for another sneezing attack. "How about we go outside. It's just about nightfall, and we can watch the sunset together. Spring sunsets are always lovely, and the garden is the best place to watch them from. This elvish can wait for later. All right?"
Sam nodded, hopped off Frodo's lap, and took his hand. Frodo smiled and squeezed Sam's in return. Then they walked down the hall and through Bag End's round, green door into the spring sunset.