The next morning Sam made his way up the hill as day broke across fields. He slipped in the kitchen door and found Bilbo sitting down to first breakfast. The master looked up and smiled at Sam's appearance, not looking at all surprised.
"Good morning Sam-lad," he said with satisfaction, "Did you sleep well?"
"… Not really Mr. Bilbo," Sam answered truthfully.
"Sit down and have some tea," Bilbo said kindly and reached for the tea pot. "Cream?"
"Thank you sir," Sam murmured.
"There you are," Bilbo said as he passed the china cup and Sam took it. "Well?"
"I want to court him, sir," Sam murmured into his tea. "That is, I want to try, anyway."
"Very good," Bilbo said with undisguised satisfaction. Sam look across the table at his master mournfully and held his cup tighter.
"But I don't know how. Da gave me some ideas, but I can't just go to Mr. Frodo and ask him to walk out with me like he was some farm lass," Sam murmured.
"You asked your father for advice on how to court Frodo?" Bilbo asked looking a little surprised. Sam stifled a laugh.
"Bless you sir, no," he said chuckling then broke off and gulped a sip of tea feeling suddenly worried, "Oh, when da gets wind of me even thinking of casting my eyes on the heir to the Hill…"
"I will help with that," Bilbo said soothingly, "Appeasing Hamfast's sensibilities is something I have quite a lot of experience with. But let's not worry about that quite yet."
"How do gentlehobbits court, sir?" Sam asked anxiously and Bilbo shifted uncomfortably.
"Er, well, there's a lot of plotting and witty turns of phrases and something or another about cards…" he broke off and shook his head, "lad, don't worry about the goings on of gentlehobbits. They can be quite silly and none of that will help you. Don't court a gentlehobbit, court the lad you've known nearly all your life. Frodo is not his title, or even his future title, and he won't thank you for treating him so."
"If you say so," Sam said sighing.
"I'm not being very helpful, am I?" Bilbo said sympathetically. Sam managed a smile.
"Yes you are, sir," he said, "it's just that this all wants careful thinking on, and I can't help feel I haven't the wits for it."
"Yes you have," Bilbo said quietly, "You are quite bright whether you know it or not, and Frodo adores you just the way you are. I think sincerity is what will serve you best with him."
"You may be right," Sam murmured, "But that's hard; to say out loud what I feel when I think on him." He was aware of Bilbo's attention focusing suddenly on him and looked up to see Bilbo gazing at him with a thoughtful expression.
"You must'nt be ashamed of your reactions; that's quite natural. You're old enough to know that," Bilbo said and Sam felt himself blush hot.
"That's not what I mean Mr. Bilbo," he choked. Bilbo's eyebrows raised just a hair.
"Ah," he said and didn't sound surprised, "What then?"
"You'll think me a daft little tweener who don't know aught what he says but," Sam took a breath, "Oh sir, I think maybe I love him. For a long time now." He set his cheeks in his hands, "I know you aren't supposed to go loving afore you even speak of courting, that it sets you up in a bad way for disappointment, and I fear I'll be disappointed, but I can't say it ain't so, not if I'm truthful."
"Oh, nay lad," Bilbo said slowly and Sam looked up to see the master giving him a heartfelt smile, "I think it's a fine thing Samwise. Don't be unhappy about it." Bilbo pushed a tray of breads towards Sam. "Have something to eat. Hm, no, this makes me all the more determined for the two of you to be bound up in each other's lives…"
"Mr. Frodo won't like us plotting on him," Sam said almost chuckling at the look of determination on his master's face.
"Why not? We know what's best for the lad," Bilbo said taking a slice of bread himself and buttered it absently.
"Oh dear, and what is the plot?" Frodo's voice came and Sam jumped guiltily. He turned to see Frodo staring at them both, his expression wary, but Sam could see the light of amusement in his eyes as well. A bolt of fear struck through Sam. Had Frodo heard what he had just said? He paused in frozen suspense, but Frodo didn't act disconcerted, only curious.
"Never you mind. Sit down and have breakfast," Bilbo said, turning over an additional tea cup from the tray. Frodo sat but regarded Bilbo with a sharp look.
"I'm not letting my guard down, not if the two of you have joined forces against me," he said as Bilbo poured his tea.
"Mr. Frodo, we'd never be against you!" Sam cried out in dismay before he could stop himself. He felt relief despite his words, for Frodo must have come out only at the very end. Frodo chuckled at his expression and focused his gaze on Sam in a way that made Sam feel very hot.
"Oh no Samwise? I don't know, I'd not like to have to compete with Bilbo for your loyalty. I would surely lose that battle."
"I don't know about that," Bilbo said gruffly. "Sam was just telling me how very much he admires you." Sam gasped and felt his face flush with heat. "Can't imagine why," Bilbo added with a smile as he handed Frodo his tea. Though Sam had his eyes firmly fixed on the table he felt Frodo's eyes on him.
"Bilbo, don't embarrass poor Sam, and before a proper breakfast," Frodo scolded and set a steadying hand on Sam's shoulder. Sam looked up at that and found Frodo peering kindly at him. "Never mind it, I know half of what Bilbo says is nonsense." It isn't nonsense! Sam thought frantically and tried to say it, but he was frozen to his seat by that warm hand and those eyes watching him with benign fondness. "Have a scone," Frodo added and passed him the basket, withdrawing his hand. Sam bit his lip against the flood of words he wanted to say everything from, "I'd better not sir, it isn't my place to be sitting down to breakfast with you sirs," to "Thank you kindly Mr. Frodo, it's always nice to have a good tuck-in at breakfast before work in the garden," and then worst of all, "Please put your hand back on me." What he mumbled instead was,
"… Yes sir. Beggin' your pardon," and reached into the basket for the nearest scone. He sensed glee from Bilbo, though he couldn't fathom why the master should be so pleased.
"I was thinking of going into town," Frodo said absently as he buttered his own scone. Bilbo looked up.
"Take Sam, would you?" he said and Frodo shot him a curious glance.
"Whatever for?" he asked.
"Oh, I've a list of thing I want picked up. Sam can help carry," Bilbo said affecting nonchalance, but Frodo didn't seem to be fooled. He shot suspicious looks at the both of them, which made Sam only blush harder.
"Sam already missed work in the garden yesterday, surely he's needing to get back to that. I can manage."
"It's not any trouble, sir," Sam said quietly, even though what Frodo said was true. This was a busy season and he really did have things to tend to, but he would gladly play catch up. He looked up eagerly at Frodo but saw his young master's eyes locked on Bilbo with a look that Sam had never seen there, something like hurt. Bilbo gazed back, caught off guard by the look and he opened his mouth but Frodo looked away quickly.
"Very well. We'll go when you're ready Sam." He stood and put his tea cup down, and added "I'll just get myself sorted." Frodo left, disappearing quick down Bag End's winding hall. Sam gaped after him, confused and a little hurt himself, not understanding why Frodo would be so unhappy about going to town with him. Had he offended him?
"Oh dear," Bilbo muttered and added a quiet curse as he rose. He met Sam's eyes and shook his head, "It's me he's upset at lad, not you. I had best go remedy this," he sighed and followed Frodo's path down the hall. Sam sat still as he heard a knock from deeper in the smial and Bilbo's polite entry to be admitted into Frodo's study. There was a pause, more voices, and then a click as Bilbo closed the door behind him. Sam sat very still then took a deep breath and rose.
It was too tempting. Even though Bilbo had said it wasn't his fault Sam couldn't bear it if he had done something to cause that look in Frodo's eyes, and it clearly did have something to do with him, or why had Frodo gone so quiet when Bilbo said Sam was to accompany Frodo to town?
Maybe Frodo had heard more than he had thought. Maybe he knew Sam was wanting to court him; maybe he was angry at Sam and at Bilbo for thinking to match him. That thought chilled Sam and almost made him want to flee but he held resolute. He slipped out the kitchen door and went to the flower patch and hedge near the study window. He knew that Frodo usually left the window open if the weather was fair, and sure enough as he neared he could hear the voices of his masters clearly. He ducked down under the hedge and took up his hidden post, listening to the conversation. If his Gaffer ever caught him doing such… But Sam dismissed the thought, for Frodo's voice came floating through the window to him, high and distressed.
"-bring shame to you! You needn't have Sam chaperone me every time I leave the smial."
"Oh Frodo, that's not what I meant by it," Bilbo said contritely. "I really do have things I want Sam to fetch and carry."
"And is that the only reason you're sending him with me? I seem to recall a lot of chores in the past week that somehow involve Sam being my shadow. You're not going to tell me that is a coincidence?" There was a pause.
"No, my lad," Bilbo said very quietly and Sam felt for the master. He knew how much loyalty and affection lay between Bilbo and Frodo and he knew Bilbo would never lie to his young charge. "I set the two of you together because I think you ought to get to know the lad better, and he you."
"… Why?" Frodo asked and there was a note of weakness to his voice.
"The pair of you are a good match," Bilbo said and his words were followed by a loud curse from Frodo. "Keep your voice down," Bilbo warned him and Sam blushed hard.
"Bilbo Baggins!" Frodo said, not heeding his uncle's warning, "Are you matchmaking me with Sam Gamgee?"
"Don't take that tone with me," Bilbo said a little sharply, "Are you implying the boy is beneath your consideration?" there was silence and Sam felt his heart fall to his feet. Of course Frodo would only see him as a gardener's boy, Bilbo was the only one who thought he could be more.
"Bilbo… he's…"
"I was under the impression that class distinctions didn't matter to you in this area." There was a long silence until Bilbo's voice came again, "Oh, my dear lad. Forgive me, you know I'm no good at these things."
"Then why are you trying to make this match?" Frodo said his voice low and cool. "Is this some plot to shock Aunt Lobelia into an early grave?"
"No Frodo," Bilbo said forcefully, "don't be silly," he paused, "… do you think it would?" to Sam's surprise Frodo laughed loudly and some of the tension in the conversation drained.
"No, I'm afraid Aunt Lobelia is made of sterner stuff." Frodo sighed, "you're very silly Uncle, but I suppose it was my happiness you were after wasn't it?"
"Yes it was," Bilbo said.
"Well, it was a nice try. You could have found worse matches after all," Frodo said ruefully. "And I should be glad I caught this before you got too far into planning this tryst. Poor Sam would never be able to look me in the face again if he knew what you intended."
"Ah," Bilbo said quietly and there was silence that once again bit into Sam. Oh dear, he thought.
"Bilbo you didn't tell him did you?" Frodo hissed.
"He told me this morning that he wants to try and court you," Bilbo said, a little proudly.
"Oh by heavens!" Frodo cried. "Samwise is an innocent child! Or he was until you started putting thoughts in his head!"
"Really Frodo, Sam isn't so simple minded as all that. He is quite able to make his own choices, and he isn't a child. Hasn't been for some years now. And he nearly refused when I gave him permission to court you."
"… You gave him permission to court me?" there was that note of weakness in Frodo's voice again.
"We're going to do this properly," Bilbo said primly and Frodo gave a disbelieving laugh. "What?" Bilbo asked testily.
"… I don't think anyone could call this proper," Frodo sighed.
"You must get over that notion, my boy," Bilbo said gently, "I think it's quite proper for two people to keep company who feel affection- perhaps even love- for one another, as you and Sam do."
"You think I love him?" Frodo asked and Sam felt the breath in his lungs freeze. Frodo hadn't said it with arrogance, he hadn't jeered at the notion, but neither did it sound as if…
"Well, you do, don't you?" Bilbo asked quietly.
"I suppose in way…"
"I thought as much," Bilbo said smugly and Sam stifled a cry of joy. Frodo loved him? He didn't care if it was only as a friend, the idea that Frodo loved him in any fashion made Sam's head spin.
"And what makes you think that he loves me?" Frodo asked. Sam blushed thinking back to his words to Bilbo that morning. Oh, Bilbo knew, he knew and surely he would tell Frodo…
"Quite a lot of things make me think that my boy," Bilbo said, "But my opinion really isn't important in this matter. Maybe you should ask him. Sam would know better than either of us, after all."
"Oh Bilbo…"
"Really lad, the boy poisons people for you," Bilbo laughed.
"We never proved that," Frodo replied dryly, but Sam could hear the note of humor returning to Frodo's voice. He was glad at least that his trifling with the rhizomes was being looked on with indulgence…
"… Why did Sam nearly refuse me?" Frodo asked quietly and Sam gritted his teeth. He hadn't refused Frodo. He had only thought-
"He thought," Bilbo said softly, "that it wasn't his place to court a gentlehobbit."
"Oh of course," Frodo said in a small voice.
"But he seems to have gotten over that notion. His chief concern this morning was that he didn't know how to ask. He didn't think the traditional invitation to walk out would do it I'm afraid." Frodo only sighed.
"Poor Sam," he said.
"Frodo, you will let him court you, won't you?" Bilbo asked.
"No," Frodo said quickly and just like that Sam felt the elation inside him evaporate.
"Oh," Bilbo cried in disappointment, "why ever not?"
"It's impossible," Frodo said sternly, "I know you think it great fun to disrupt and disappoint polite society but you and I have the power and the standing to do that," Frodo continued quietly, "Sam doesn't. It would be terrible on him, no matter what he thinks he feels for me." He paused and sighed, "Now, I think we've talked on this long enough and kept Sam waiting for far too long." Sam came back to his senses with a jolt and realized that he had better be back in the kitchen. "Unless you don't want him to go to town with me anymore?"
"I do," Bilbo said, somewhat shakily, "I really do have a list…" But Sam didn't hear anymore he was hurrying back through the garden to the kitchen door and was seated at the table in a matter of moments. His heart was racing and he hurriedly wiped his cheeks and blew his nose into his handkerchief as the sound of Frodo's study door opening drifted to him down the long hall.
The walk to Hobbiton was longer than it had any right to be. Frodo was very quiet and Sam could feel his master's tension in every step. When Frodo had come back to the kitchen he had put on a forced cheer that made Sam feel even worse than he already did but fortunately he had gone out to the hallway to find his walking stick and Bilbo had come into the kitchen, taking Sam quickly by the shoulder.
"Sam-lad, I've fouled it all up. He knows you mean to court him and he's convinced he must protect you from your own folly."
"Oh Mr. Bilbo," Sam murmured. He felt so miserable that his will was gone and Bilbo wasn't paying him any mind.
"I'm sorry I put you in this position lad, I know you wanted to do this the right way and now Frodo… If he's difficult, just come back. I don't need the things from town so badly that they can't wait." Bilbo sighed heavily and rubbed Sam shoulder, "My dear boy. I'm so sorry." Sam couldn't find any words but he realized suddenly that Bilbo Baggins cared a great deal for him. He nodded, feeling his throat too tight for words and slipped out of the kitchen, hurrying to catch Frodo up.
Frodo had said very little for the entire mile they had walked. No, he had said nothing, Sam corrected himself. Just as Sam had been plodding down the stone steps of Bag End he had paused by the flower garden and without quite knowing why had grasped one of the early tulips, plucked it, and slipped it into his jacket. If there was any hope at all…
He had thought Frodo would speak on it once they were out of sight of Bag End, but that hadn't happened. Frodo's tension had only grown and now his hands, when Sam spied them from his position slightly behind, were shaking as he struggled to grip his walking stick. Sam felt pity, and wished he could set Frodo's mind to ease, but the only way to do that would be for him to speak first. The thought horrified him but Sam was quickly realizing that he couldn't bear for Frodo to continue on like this.
"Mr. Frodo…?" Sam murmured, drawing on a force of will he hadn't known he had. Frodo slowed and turned to him, his expression terrified. Sam had never seen such a look on Frodo's face and he gaped at it. Frodo blinked and the expression was gone to be replaced with a more normal reserved curiosity with only the slightest apprehension in his eyes.
"Yes lad?" he said. Sam stiffened slightly at the formal tone. He didn't know how to talk around issues or introduce things slowly. He wasn't so artful, but he had to say something.
"Mr. Bilbo told you I want you court you, didn't he?" he said quietly. Frodo's mouth tightened but Sam went on quickly, knowing once Frodo began to speak it would all be over. "Ah, he should not a done that." Frodo stopped, caught off guard.
"Shouldn't he?" he said in a stiff tone.
"Nay, it ought to have been me doing the asking, as I meant to once I had figured out how," Sam sighed, "Mind, I was that nervous about it and I still am." Frodo peered at him and slowly his expression relaxed.
"Sam, you mustn't listen to Bilbo. He means well, but he doesn't always know best," he said with a fond smile. Sam eased a little at Frodo's smile but he could feel that stubborn Baggins will setting into place.
"You're thinking I'm asking just because Mr. Bilbo spoke on it?" he asked softly. Frodo sighed and stepped closer, fixing Sam in his gaze.
"You are aren't you?" he asked and Sam knew, just as Frodo knew, that when Frodo looked at him that way, there was no possibility that Sam could tell him anything but the full truth.
"He set me to thinking it was possible, aye," Sam said, meeting those bright eyes. "But the way I feel for you? And the wanting to…" Sam broke off and his face flooded with warmth, "… I'd be lying if I told you I hadn't had those thoughts before." Frodo closed his eyes and to Sam's astonishment his master blushed.
"I know those thoughts can be insistent," Frodo said very quietly, "but often it can be a very bad idea to follow through with them, all the more so if they are on another lad." He opened his eyes then, "My dear Sam, there are very hard consequences for loving another lad, and I never want you to go through that." He let out a shaky laugh, "Bilbo thinks that we are a convenient pair. But I'm afraid that is the farthest thing from the truth."
"Aye," Sam agreed, "It would be hard for us to pair, and that's why you can't be thinking I'd be making this choice to try lightly. You can't be thinking that I'd go so far just 'cause Mr. Bilbo says it ought to be so." Frodo frowned but Sam went on quickly, drawing the tulip from his jacket, "You needn't give me an answer now, for I had time to think on it and it wouldn't be fair for you not to," he held the flower out, "and you needn't say yes to keep my friendship neither. I'll love you no matter what you say, but will you think on it? That's all I ask." There was a long silence in which Frodo stared at him in astonishment, as if seeing Sam for the first time. Sam stubbornly stood his ground and held the flower steadily, refusing to allow his hand to shake and show how terrified he was. At long last Frodo reached up and took the flower cautiously.
"I'll think on it," he said, his voice unsteady. Sam breathed out a sigh of relief.
"Well, I'd reckon we've dallied long enough," Sam said and seeing Frodo's eyes widen added quickly, "Mr. Bilbo will be thinking we've gone to Bree for his groceries." Frodo let out a laugh, his face relaxing.
"Yes, and he'll expect an account of our adventures along the way," he said. They set off walking again and Sam took up his place once more slightly behind Frodo, ever so often casting a thoughtful gaze toward his master. That was how he saw Frodo slip the tulip into his own inner jacket pocket, and then button it, protectively. For some reason that gave Sam great satisfaction.
Frodo slipped down the hall, the sounds of Sam unloading the bags in the kitchen behind him. He paused at the door to his bedroom and gazed back toward the green door. What a very peculiar day it had turned out to be, he reflected.
He heard the sound of the kitchen door opening and Bilbo greeting Sam. He even heard Bilbo's lowered voice asking,
"Well…?"
"It's alright sir," Sam said quietly, and added, "He'll think on it." Frodo stood still and listened as Bilbo chuckled.
"Well done Samwise."
Frodo grinned, shaking his head, feeling suddenly fond of both of them. He pushed his bedroom door open and went in, closing it soundlessly behind him.
Bilbo was a rascal, but he had a well-meaning heart, and Frodo could not be angry with him, even though he had drawn Sam into this disaster. And Sam, dear Sam, he couldn't be angry with him either. Frodo stood in front of his washstand and unbuttoned his overcoat, reached into the inner jacket pocket and drew out the slightly wilted red flower Sam had given him. He held it and gazed on the pretty little thing before pouring out some of his wash water into a stray tea cup that had migrated to the little table, and put the flower into the cup. It sagged a bit, but it was still quite nice. Frodo found himself studying the flower, and recalled how all through their trip into town he had been mindful not to crush the plant, how he had always been aware of its presence.
Frodo found his light mood fade a bit. Sam was a sweet and dear fellow and Frodo could never stomach the idea of hurting him. Yet, he could no more stomach the idea of going along with this courtship; It would end in heartbreak and probably worse, Frodo knew that without a doubt. He sat down heavily and felt suddenly no older than the seventeen year old he had been when Seredic had discovered him kissing his lad in the woodshop. His older cousin had grasped Frodo roughly by the collar and drug him from the shop, as Frodo cried and cursed, terrified.
He had got off lightly, and had been reminded of that fact many times by his elders. If his name had not been Baggins he would have been whipped. Frodo recalled being left in his guardian's study after Seredic and Gorbulas left. Saradoc had peered at him looking uncomfortable as he came from around his desk and patted Frodo's back.
"There now, enough of that, stop crying lad," the Master of Brandy Hall had told him gruffly, "This sort of thing is far more common than those two make out. They're just trying to scare some sense into you." He had pushed Frodo out into the hall and told him to go to bed and never mind about it. He had felt slightly bewildered at Saradoc's disinterest, but then Saradoc had never had much time for him. And then shortly after that, talk had begun about sending him away somewhere.
Ah, he had thought then, Uncle Saradoc really does want to get rid of me. Of course he does. He won't want his son looking up to one like me. Dear little Merry already follows me like a pup when he escapes his governess.
Frodo could never put that fear on anyone else, let alone Sam. And too, Sam would take the full brunt of punishment when it came, and it would come, for his name wasn't Baggins and he had no one who could whisk him away and shield him, as Bilbo had done for Frodo.
Frodo wouldn't let that happen. He only had to find a way to spare Sam's feelings. It seemed as though he had got himself worked up about the matter, but Frodo felt fairly confident he could talk Sam out of it, while still assuring the boy that he was valued. Someday they would laugh about all this.
With that thought he rose once more and decided he really ought to go and help put away the food stuffs he and Sam had brought back.
The next morning Frodo rose rather late. He saw that the sun had already risen above the hill and was streaming into his bedroom as he dressed and washed. It was probably past second breakfast Frodo thought, a little annoyed that Bilbo hadn't woken him for it, but then there was always elevensees, which couldn't be too far away.
Bilbo had surprised Frodo by not speaking on the matter of Sam's courtship. Frodo had expected to have Bilbo argue at long lengths to convince him, once Sam had gone home, but Bilbo remained mute on the issue, other than to gently say that he still thought it a good match. Frodo had watched him warily through supper, realizing that Bilbo had discovered that arguing a point with his nephew would only make said nephew cling more stubbornly to his position. Well played old hobbit, Frodo thought ruefully.
There was a tap from the window and Frodo turned at the sound.
"Mr. Frodo?" called Sam's voice, though the gardener had not appeared in the window. Frodo finished buttoning his weskit and went to the window, pushing it open and peered out. Sam was below and off to the side a bit, looking up at him, smiling pleasantly. "Good morning Mr. Frodo," he said. Frodo could help but return the smile.
"Good morning Sam. How are you?" he asked politely.
"Very well thank you," Sam said and stepped forward to the window box and Frodo realized he was holding a collection of pretty white flowers, bunched together and tied with a bit of string. Sam held them up to him, beaming. "These are for you. Begging your pardon." Frodo tried not to gasp, but he wasn't sure he hid all of his surprise or reluctance, but Sam held them stubbornly up, his eyes gleaming in a way Frodo had not seen before. Frodo forced himself to relax and smile and be gracious. He was, after all, a gentlehobbit and he would not refuse such a gift. He reached out, as he had the day before and took the flowers saying as he did,
"These are lovely Samwise. Thank you. You needn't give me presents though, and Bilbo will be annoyed if the flower gardens start to lose their blooms." Sam colored at that, but his smile remained, though it turned shy as he peered up.
"These came from my garden," he said quietly. Frodo paused, unexpectedly touched by this statement, possibly because he hadn't known that Sam had a garden of his own at home.
"Oh," he said lamely and cast his eyes down at the flowers, "As I said before… they are lovely." He looked up again and met Sam's eyes feeling troubled. "I haven't… That is, I-"
"I'm not looking for an answer," Sam said and his voice was filled that that same quiet confidence that had shocked Frodo so the day before. "I'd rather you took at least a week." Frodo blinked at the cheek of this statement, and at the interruption, but then this whole endeavor was cheek personified. He crossed his arms and gazed down at Sam who had gone quiet.
"Very well," Frodo answered finally, "a week." He withdrew, "Good morning then."
"Good morning, sir," Sam answered him. Frodo turned away and held the flowers. They had long thin strong stalks and the blooms themselves were white with a touch of purple at their center. They had a slight sweet smell, like jasmine, not overpowering but refreshing in their own way. Frodo decided these really deserved more than a convenient tea cup and set off to the kitchen to find a vase.
Bilbo was in the kitchen, drinking coffee and absently pushing piles of scrambled eggs around his plate as he read his post. He looked up as Frodo entered and his eyes went immediately to the flowers in nephew's hand. A broad smile broke out on his face and he looked down at his eggs, trying to hide his glee. Frodo pointedly ignored him.
"Come have some breakfast, lad," Bilbo said, "I saved you a bun." Frodo did look over that, he liked buns and Bilbo wasn't always charitable enough to save him one. Hurriedly Frodo located a vase gathering dust on the pantry shelf and set his flowers in it, bringing the vase into the kitchen, and sat down at the breakfast table.
"Good morning Bilbo," Frodo said belatedly as he reached for the bun and put it on his plate.
"Good morning. In need of some tea are we?" Bilbo asked kindly and began pouring him cup.
"Yes please," Frodo said in a subdued tone. "I thought I might go for a walk after breakfast."
"It's a nice day for it," Bilbo said unsurprised, "Would you like me to pack anything for you?" Frodo looked up and chuckled a bit.
"No thank you. You haven't packed a bag for me in years." Bilbo passed him a cup and looked a little sheepish.
"Well, no. I suppose I feel a bit guilty for meddling so."
"I find it very hard to believe that you are sorry for that," Frodo said as he munched. Bilbo thought about that for a moment.
"I do feel guilty that the matter has worried you."
"Well, I can manage," Frodo said. The rest of breakfast passed easily enough and by ten thirty Frodo was off with his walking stick and bag, tramping out toward the western ends of the Baggins lands. He was headed for a spot deep in the wood that ran along the Needlehole road. There the creek split off and years ago Frodo had found a stretch of the creek land that dipped down into a sheltered forest valley, far from the road. It was one of the quietest places Frodo had ever found, where the only sound came from the creek water sliding over rocks and the occasional bird song. This was the place he went to when he needed to think.
Frodo found his spot by the creek side and took from his bag a blanket, which he sat upon, and watched the water bubble cheerily before him.
As much as Frodo hated to admit it, there was part of this situation that was tempting. He was lonely, though Bilbo tried to keep him occupied and Frodo had a few friends that would visit on the occasion, and even Sam himself brightened Frodo's days; but it wasn't the same as having someone close and dear, someone you could not only tell you worries and share your discoveries with, but someone you could also kiss and touch, and lay with. Frodo craved that, more than he wanted to admit, even to himself, for his brief dalliance in Buckland had only hinted at what could be and had left him aching for that closeness all the more.
But Sam? He cringed a little at the thought. Samwise was a child, hardly a tween, except that Bilbo and even the Gaffer occasionally remarked that Sam was mature for his years.
"Yes, he's quite good at gardening," Frodo muttered to himself, "That doesn't mean he's old enough to…" Frodo broke off and realized with a little unpleasant jolt that Sam was the same age Frodo had been when he and his lad had coupled at the Brandy Hall woodshop.
"Maybe I wasn't old enough," Frodo sighed, "I wasn't old enough to understand the consequences." He had learned that lesson well, at least. Frodo had been sent away and the boy, his name had been Pan, lost his job. Frodo hugged his knees, feeling the pain again, of knowing that he was responsible for uprooting and shaming his friend, and that there was nothing he could have done to stop it.
What he and Pan shared had been the highlight and joy of his tween heart; though Frodo wouldn't have called the two of them lovers, exactly, but neither had their coupling been without affection. It had begun one evening when a cousin came to the Hall complaining that his horse had thrown a shoe and Frodo had been sent to find someone who could see to the animal at the late hour. He had gone to the stables only to find them deserted and then had decided that horse shoes had something to do with nails, so he walked out to the Hall woodshop, set back away from the main cluster of smials because of the noise that the shop produced. There Frodo found the carpenter and his apprentice at work and after explaining his errand the carpenter had set off to find the horse. Frodo and the apprentice had been left alone.
At first they only sat in silence until Frodo decided this was rude and began a halting conversation. He discovered the young hobbit's name was Pan and he was from one of the farming families that worked Brandybuck land, and that he was a few years older than Frodo. Frodo goaded him into a tour of the workshop and Pan obliged, seeming a little bewildered at the young gentlehobbit's interest. After nearly an hour of pleasant conversation, and admiring Pan's woodcraft Frodo remembered feeling surprised that he had enjoyed this time far more than being stuck in the Hall, even more than being tucked up in his room with a book.
Pan had asked him to follow him behind the woodshop where the wood stock was set to drying, where he promised to explain the differences in wood to Frodo, and Frodo followed, willing to stay as long as the apprentice wasn't bothered by him. They went outside and Pan had turned to him and Frodo still remembered the thrill of pleasured shock as Pan took him by the shoulder and kissed him.
It had been a gentle kiss but Frodo had given into it, had even kissed back so readily that Pan pressed him to the woodshed wall and pushed his tongue into Frodo's mouth. Frodo remembered moaning and wanting more but the sound of the returning carpenter had split them apart and Frodo went back to the Hall that night with pulsing blood, feeling as if he were made of wind and starlight.
He had made many more trips to the woodshop, most late at night when the carpenter had gone home. He and Pan would meet and go up to the loft and lay together until the stars began to fade in the sky.
It only lasted a month. Seredic came into the woodshop one night and found them kissing; the only saving grace that it was not late enough for them to have progressed onto more compromising acts. Frodo was drug from the shed and he never saw Pan again.
Unexpectedly Frodo felt his eyes go hot and his vision blurred. He clucked at himself and wiped his eyes. He was being silly, Pan had long forgotten him most likely and was living in a comfortable Buckland farming smial with a wife and children. They had been friends for a time, and Pan had always treated him with kindness, with respect, but what had been between the two of them was nothing compared to the friendship Frodo had with Sam. It was a friendship that had grown slowly over the course of years and had insinuated itself in their lives as solidly as the vines Sam's father coaxed to cling to the garden bower.
When Frodo had begun to visit Bag End he had found it a little strange that there was always a Gamgee about the place, and not ducking out of rooms and only speaking when spoken to, like the servants at Brandy Hall, but accepted and appreciated individuals in their own right. Bilbo chatted with Hamfast in the garden or at the breakfast table about flower plots and planting schedules, while Bell baked and stoked fire in Bag End's kitchen and Daisy watched her two younger siblings, usually taking up in a chair near the garden with Sam in her lap and May on the ground by her feet. Sam couldn't have been more than two or three at the time. Frodo had assumed, and he still thought that the reason there had been such involvement from the Gamgees then was that Bilbo had grown lonely and invited that noise and bustle to keep him company.
That bustle had declined not long after Frodo had come to live at Bag End; the Gamgee children were a bit older and Daisy had taken up mending to help the household and was trusted to look after the others at home. Then Bell had fallen ill after the birth of Marigold and that had stopped the lively chatter on the Hill. Frodo and Bilbo watched helplessly as the goodwife of Number Three slipped away one spring night, and after that all the Gamgees seemed to have a quietness about them.
That was when Bilbo had got very stubborn about Sam's education. He insisted that Sam's reading lessons be continued, increased even and Hamfast hadn't the will to argue it, except to caution that Sam would be needed full time in the garden someday and the reading would come to an end then. Bilbo had blithely agreed to the terms and Frodo began to see more of Sam about Bag End. He mostly stayed out of Bilbo and Sam's way; he didn't want to interrupt the reading lessons and also Frodo could see that there was a very strong bond between the Master of the Hill and the youngest Gamgee son.
It was also plain that Sam adored Bilbo. He adored his stories, his endless knowledge about the world and, though he was in awe of his master, Sam seemed comfortable and happy around Bilbo; probably a result of spending so much time in Bag End as a child and being treated with kindness and attention when he visited. Bilbo seemed to think Sam had a gift with poetry and verse, and had done all he could to encourage that gift. Frodo knew Sam's presence brought Bilbo great joy, as well, for there was nothing his uncle liked better than an enthusiastic audience, and Sam was positively worshipful in his attention.
"The old hobbit loves Sam and so he thinks I should love Sam," Frodo mused, "And I do in a way. He's nearly part of our family, I would say, but," Frodo sighed, "that doesn't mean I could take him as a lover."
The only problem to work out was how to go about convincing the two of them that this was a terrible irresponsible idea.
"I won't let Sam lose his position and standing for a bit of fun between us," Frodo murmured to himself, though Frodo suspected that anything that happened between them would be deeper than a bit of fun, and that was perhaps a more frightening prospect.
"Perspective," Frodo said and rose, "I must find a way to reintroduce perspective to the whole matter. No one would accept it as proper for a gardener's son to court his young master." The statement caused a strange flash of pain in Frodo, for it felt wrong to put Sam down because of his class, but despite that Frodo knew it to be true. Perhaps sly pleasure-taking like the sort that he and Pan had taken would be overlooked if it were carried on discreetly, but Bilbo was envisioning a proper courtship in full view of the village.
He gathered up his blanket and bag and set off again for home. It couldn't be much past luncheon, he thought and hurried back through the forest.
Frodo had the beginnings of a plan by the time he reached Bag End. He ate lunch with Bilbo and announced that he was going to help Sam in the garden that afternoon. Bilbo only greeted this with slightly raised eyebrows and Frodo offered him no further explanation.
"Well, mind that you ask him. He's planting today and that is fiddly work. He may not have you," Bilbo cautioned. Frodo blinked, feeling a little indignation but nodded.
"Of course I'll ask," he said, "I don't mean to sound so imposing."
"Good," Bilbo approved and began the washing up. Frodo made his way out into the garden and found Sam up to his elbows in soil, digging holes for his seeds. He looked up and seeing Frodo gave a wave.
"Hello Sam, did you have lunch?" Frodo asked.
"Yes sir. Just finished. Did you have a good walk this morning?" he asked. Frodo was unsurprised Sam knew of his walk.
"Yes, it was a very pleasant," Frodo said, "I was wondering if perhaps you would like some help this afternoon? I understand planting is a difficult business." Sam's smile faded a little and Frodo felt Sam gaze turn evaluative. "It's quite alright if you think I'll be a bother. In all fairness I probably would be."
"Nay sir," Sam said and his voice had gone shy, "It's not that, but begging your pardon, you aren't dressed for it."
"That can be remedied," Frodo said, feeling a little more confident.
"Then, if you're sure sir," Sam said and Frodo felt a surge of victory. He needed a way to restore the balance between Sam and himself, and there was nothing better for that, he felt, than working side by side, as they had in the past. It would remind Sam that they were dear friends, and that was the way it was supposed to be.
"I'll join you in a moment then," Frodo said and went off to change.
The planting was hard work but Frodo thought he held up his end as well as could be expected of someone who wasn't a professional gardener. Sam watched him closely and it wasn't with the lovelorn looks Frodo had half expected, but with a sharp eye and a polite reminder when Frodo lost track of what he was doing. This suited Frodo fine, it was the way it had always been between them; when Frodo toiled in Sam's world Sam was there to guide their work, and when Sam ventured into the realm of literature, well, more often it was Bilbo guiding him, but Frodo had been known to help Sam in his reading efforts. Their words were polite, helpful and kind.
As the afternoon drew to a close Frodo stood and stretched, proud of the hours of toil he had put into the garden and promised to fetch Sam a mug of ale for his cool down. Sam thanked him and headed for the pump, as was his custom. Frodo walked into the kitchen and finding it deserted went down into the cool cellar to draw two mugs. He brought the mugs out and decided he would feel much nicer in a clean shirt, so after a slight detour Frodo returned to the garden with the mugs in hand. Sam had finished washing and was seated on the brick bower near the pump, looking content with his freshly washed feet and arms. He turned and took one of the mugs appreciatively from Frodo as Frodo settled beside him in the bower and sipped his own ale.
"Oh, this is fine stuff," Sam commented as he drank thirstily. "Thank you sir."
"You're more than welcome," Frodo said, "Thank you for taking me on this afternoon."
"T'was a help," Sam said with conviction and took a sip. He gazed down a moment in silence before saying quietly, "Why did you come help me today?" Frodo considered the question carefully.
"I wanted to work with you, the way we have in the past," he said slowly, "I can't very well work this thing out if I'm never with you." He realized this sounded more encouraging than he meant it to sound and sure enough when he looked Sam was watching him with hope in his face.
"You really are thinking on it…?" he asked.
"I said I would," Frodo said a little defensively and looked away quickly. If he wasn't careful those soft brown eyes would have him giving in to more than he wanted, "Sam, you know that whatever the answer I give, you are very dear to me. You and Bilbo are… well, you're my family here, you know."
"Oh," Sam said softly and Frodo looked up to see Sam's eyes going glossy in the sunset light. "That's kind of you to say sir," Sam went on quickly, "and you know, you and Mr. Bilbo are dear to me too."
"I know," Frodo said and sipped speculatively. He felt soothed, and was sure now that he had reassured Sam that when the time came and he explained why the courtship wouldn't work that-
"Mr. Frodo?"
"Yes?" Frodo asked and turned to see Sam peering at him bashfully again.
"Will you go to the Green Dragon with me? Not tonight," he added hastily, "Maybe tomorrow?" Frodo caught his breath.
"Are you asking me to walk out with you?" he asked. Sam grinned and ducked his head.
"Happen I am," he said.
"And you don't think that's cheeky, when I haven't given you an answer?" Frodo asked, but Sam's grin was infectious.
"Aye. But then, you said yourself, how are you supposed to make a decision without spending some time with me and begging your pardon," he paused and met Frodo's eyes, "but working in the garden ain't the most lovesome setting." Frodo was struck speechless for a moment and stared. Sam finished his mug and put it in the bower next to him, turning his full attention to Frodo. "Will you?" he asked hesitantly.
"Alright," Frodo said and felt a little shocked at himself for saying it, but he had to admit Sam had a point, and besides, it would be a good opportunity to talk to Sam about the matter and lay it out plainly, away from Bilbo and Bag End, where the hard truths of life seemed blunted. Sam's face lit with happiness.
"Until then," he said, grinning. He collected his mug, sent one last look of glowing happiness Frodo's way and then disappeared into the garden, heading for Bag End's kitchen. Frodo sat very still and stared after him.
"Bugger," he sighed. His plan had not worked the way he had wanted it to at all.
Flower notes:
Red tulip: Declaration
Iris (White and purple flower): Your friendship means so much to me; Hope