AN: Well I thought I'd better start replying to some of my feedback. It's
always wonderful to hear from people I haven't begged to read this, so here
we go.
TVader14: Poor Sam indeed, and if you think I'm doing this because I like to see Sam suffer, I'm not. Sam is most definitely, without a doubt my favourite too, and I was interested one day to find out how he came to be such a loyal, and devoted friend to Frodo, and yet a brave, and strong fighter as proved in the Return of the King. I'm no psychologist, but the idea of this is to show that transformation from his childhood to his adulthood. We can only wait and see how it turns out! Please keep reading, and submitting your opinions!
Althea: I really meant to reply to you sooner, but I never got round to it. I'm too lazy I suppose. Well, I still want to thank you for reading, and reviewing after every chapter. I'm glad you thought Pippin's characterisation was true to life, as I was agonising for a long time over how a 10-year-old Pippin would act. Do not fear for Merry's sake, he will be redeemed at some point.
IloveSam: I'm pleased you like the way I write! I hope I keep this an interesting story so that you and the rest will keep reading! Yes, Hamfast doesn't deserve Sam's defense, but at the moment Sam doesn't feel like he has anybody else in his life, so he can't bear to be parted from him, no matter how badly he is treated.
A few notes. Solmath = February, and this chapter will alternate from the view points of certain hobbits when previously this story has been told from Sam's point of view.
**
It had been hard for Sam the rest of that day. He evaded questioning from his father as best as he could, claiming that Frodo had dismissed him from his service; and that he was free to work for his dad in the garden. Hamfast had no objections to an extra pair of hands and he soon put his son to work.
Not more than an hour had passed when the front door of Bag End opened and out stepped Frodo carrying a tray. There sat two cups, filled almost to the brim with steaming tea. It was a cold, Solmath afternoon, and the warmth would be welcome.
"My good gentlemen!" Frodo called cheerfully. "You have both worked very hard on this bitterly cold day. Will you accept hot tea?"
The Gaffer wiped his forehead with a gloved hand, and accepted his cup gratefully. "Ah" he sighed. "That's a lovely cup of tea, Mr., Frodo." Sam glanced at his father feeling extremely small and insignificant in his eyes. At the memory of his last attempt at tea, he felt a twinge in his ankle, and then his shins and he knew the bandages needed changing.
"Sam?"
Sam looked up at Frodo for the briefest of moments before turning back to the pile of cut grass on the ground. "I'm not thirsty" said Sam, digging his shovel into the grass and carrying it over to the compost heap at the far side of the garden.
"Now Sam," the Gaffer said when Sam had returned from the heap, trying to hide the limp in his stride, " I thought I raised you with more manners than that. Accept your future master's generosity with gratitude!"
Sam looked at his father shamefully and he lifted his cup from the tray. He gave his thanks to Frodo whilst avoiding his gaze.
When he took a sip, he realised that it was indeed a lovely cup of tea, and spread warmth through him that was needed. He raised his eyes to meet Frodo's and thanked him with sincerity. Frodo simply nodded, offering a small, apologetic smile as he turned around and headed back into the smial.
*
Frodo sighed as he leant back against the door. Sam would not open up to him, or talk to him, even after his repeated gestures of kindness. He honestly couldn't tell whether Sam wanted him as a friend. All of his efforts so far had gone unappreciated, and every time Frodo tried to get close to the young boy he would clam up, and would say no word to Frodo.
He set the tray down on the chest by the door, making a note to himself to take it into the kitchen later on and set off down the hall. The sounds of laughter came from Merry's room, and he knew that he had Pippin in there and that they were playing a game of sorts.
At the end of the hall, the door to Bilbo's study was open, and he could hear his uncle muttering to himself. He strided down and knocked on the door.
"Blast, now where did I put that thing?" He looked up at the door and smiled at Frodo before inviting him in. "Come on lad, what's the matter with you then?"
Frodo sighed and sat down on Bilbo's chair whilst the older hobbit searched the room for something. Frodo took in a deep breath and sighed, thinking about what to say.
"Bilbo." Frodo looked up at his uncle, who was bustling about the study, "How long has Sam been working with the Gaffer?"
"What?" Bilbo looked up distractedly before he processed what had been said. "Oh, I should think about.two years now? .Yes two years. Shortly before his mother died wasn't it? Yes, two years." He went over to his desk and sorted through the various maps and sheets of parchment scattered upon it.
"And what do you think of him? After two years of service?" Frodo asked, playing with an ornate stone that Bilbo used as a paperweight from time to time.
"Who's that, lad?" Bilbo asked, looking back at him distractedly.
"Sam, uncle."
"Oh yes, Samwise!" He finished rifling through the papers and looked around the room for other places it could be lost in. "Nice enough lad, polite, and he cooks up the most loveliest meals sometimes. Always wants to help, even if there's nothing to be done." He spied the bin on the floor besides his desk and crouched down. "Yet odd, I feel" Bilbo turned his head to look back at Frodo, who wore a bemused expression on his pale face.
Frodo was well aware of Bilbo's reputation among the Shire, and he was often considered to be 'odd' or 'Mad Baggins' as they called him. He also knew that Bilbo was aware of this, and he made no mention as to whether this amused him or troubled him. Still for him to go around calling anybody else odd, was somewhat odd in itself.
"What do you mean, Bilbo?"
Bilbo had finished rifling through his bin as well with no success. He stood up and walked over to Frodo. "He's almost too polite." Bilbo explained. "He's a young lad, of what? 18 years?"
"19 Uncle, and it's his birthday in Astron." Frodo's eyes watered as he remembered that Bell had died a week before Sam's 19th birthday. There had been a part organised in the Green Dragon, and all Sam's friends and family had turned up, including Frodo but Sam did not show.
"19" Bilbo repeated, "A lad of his age should be up and about like our own Meriadoc. He's always so sad, and behind his eyes there is years worth of pain in there. Eager to work too, now you have to admit that at his age, work should be the last thing in his mind."
"I don't think he has a choice," Frodo spoke quietly, mostly to himself, "and it's a distraction from his life."
Bilbo heard these words and passed them off, knowing Frodo kept his troubles almost as well as he, himself did. Bilbo was a little better at hiding it than his younger cousin.
"It must be terrible for him, to lose his mother like that. For someone so young as well!"
"I was 12." Frodo looked up at Bilbo, tired of everyone admiring Sam for coping with the death of his mother so well. "And I recall losing my father as well."
Bilbo sighed and walked over to him, putting his hand encouragingly on his shoulder. "I know Frodo, I know, and you coped extremely well! Your mother's family took you in and took care of you, raised you. You made friends there, including a very young and very mischievous Merry.
Frodo smiled at the memory of his cousin, when he was much younger then Pippin.
"Sam's alone in the world" continued Bilbo, "I don't know what Sam does in his spare time but it's clear to me he doesn't go out with any folk he can call his friends, I've never seen him with anyone but his dad. Tell me Frodo, how many brothers and sisters does he have?"
Frodo sat in thought for a while. He had seen the Gaffer's eldest son, Hamson helping his dad out a few times when he had first arrived at Bag End, and the youngest girl, Marigold had helped her mother cook up a feast for Bilbo as a personal favour.
"Two, that I know of uncle, a brother and a sister."
"He has two brothers and three sisters." His cousin explained. "A large family, by hobbit standards."
"Where are they?" Frodo asked. "Why haven't I seen them?"
"The Gaffer, as well you know has very strong views on his class and ours, and has high respect for that, no matter how outdated his views may be. He kept his family out of mind and out of sight, maintaining a purely professional relationship. When Bell died, I suppose he couldn't cope with bringing six children up on his own. He sent his eldest sons to work in Tighfield and the North Farthing, and his daughters to stay with their Aunt May, in Tighfield as well. He would've sent Sam away if nobody thought he was too young to take on as an apprentice."
"So Samwise lives alone with Hamfast?"
"Yes, he does."
Frodo said no more and sat for a while, in silent thought.
"There you are!" Merry's head poked into the room. "Come on Frodo! Pippin wants to go exploring and you're our guide!" Pippin bounded into the room and ran over to Frodo, tugging his hand.
"Please? Please can we go Frodo?" Frodo smiled down at the boy, unwilling to disappoint him.
"Of course we can!" Frodo couldn't help but laugh as he was dragged out of the room. Bilbo looked around the room once more.
"Blast, where did I leave It?"
*
"What would you like me to do now sir?"
Hamfast looked up from the flowerbed that needed weeding before they replanted the bulbs next month, and surveyed the garden around him. "Nice work lad! You've done what I asked you to. There's naught left to do out here. Tell you what son, you go on in and ask if Mr. Bilbo or Mr. Frodo need you. If not, you can go on home for the rest of the day!"
Sam smiled up at his dad, even though he had no desire to go home to that empty smial on Bag Shot Row. He hoped with all his heart that Bilbo would find some use for him.
"Thank you sir" was his reply, pretending he was grateful for his father's kindness, even though it would bring him loneliness and sadness.
"Well go on then! See if Mr. Bilbo can find a use for you!" Sam nodded and walked away, heading towards the smial.
He walked inside and found a tray just inside on the chest. He perked up, already there was a job needed to be done. He took the tray and the empty cups into the kitchen and washed them, before putting them away in their rightful places. He looked around the kitchen for another job needing to be done and found nothing. He sighed and went off in search of Bilbo or Frodo.
Deep in the corners of his mind, he thought he heard the front door close, but he shook it off, thinking he imagined it and walked down the hall. The door to Bilbo's study was open, and the elder hobbit was standing in the doorway, looking altogether like he were somewhere else.
"Mr. Bilbo?"
Bilbo jumped, startled out of his wits. He calmed down when he laid eyes on Sam. "Oh! It's you Samlad."
"I'm sorry sir, I didn't mean to startle you."
"Oh nonsense lad! I was just deep in thought that's all. Trying to remember something."
"Anything I can help you with, sir?" Sam looked hopeful.
"Oh no lad, just my forgetfulness is all. No, you run along now, I shall be quite busy in here this afternoon."
"Are you sure there's nothing for me to do, sir? No cleaning, cooking, can I make you some tea?" Bilbo laughed and ruffled Sam's sandy curls, not yet highlighted by the coming sun.
"No, there's nothing. Frodo's gone out with his cousins to explore. It's a shame you didn't come in sooner, you could've gone with them and helped look after Pippin."
Sam's face fell, as did his spirits. "So there's nothing to do?"
"Nothing at all Sam. You just run along."
Sam nodded, feeling low. He would have to walk down the hill to his home, his empty home.
"All right then sir, good day!" He turned around and walked out of his smial, saying a final goodbye to his father, after asking if there was anything else needed doing. When he was answered in the negative, he finally left the hill and made his way to number 3, Bagshot row.
TVader14: Poor Sam indeed, and if you think I'm doing this because I like to see Sam suffer, I'm not. Sam is most definitely, without a doubt my favourite too, and I was interested one day to find out how he came to be such a loyal, and devoted friend to Frodo, and yet a brave, and strong fighter as proved in the Return of the King. I'm no psychologist, but the idea of this is to show that transformation from his childhood to his adulthood. We can only wait and see how it turns out! Please keep reading, and submitting your opinions!
Althea: I really meant to reply to you sooner, but I never got round to it. I'm too lazy I suppose. Well, I still want to thank you for reading, and reviewing after every chapter. I'm glad you thought Pippin's characterisation was true to life, as I was agonising for a long time over how a 10-year-old Pippin would act. Do not fear for Merry's sake, he will be redeemed at some point.
IloveSam: I'm pleased you like the way I write! I hope I keep this an interesting story so that you and the rest will keep reading! Yes, Hamfast doesn't deserve Sam's defense, but at the moment Sam doesn't feel like he has anybody else in his life, so he can't bear to be parted from him, no matter how badly he is treated.
A few notes. Solmath = February, and this chapter will alternate from the view points of certain hobbits when previously this story has been told from Sam's point of view.
**
It had been hard for Sam the rest of that day. He evaded questioning from his father as best as he could, claiming that Frodo had dismissed him from his service; and that he was free to work for his dad in the garden. Hamfast had no objections to an extra pair of hands and he soon put his son to work.
Not more than an hour had passed when the front door of Bag End opened and out stepped Frodo carrying a tray. There sat two cups, filled almost to the brim with steaming tea. It was a cold, Solmath afternoon, and the warmth would be welcome.
"My good gentlemen!" Frodo called cheerfully. "You have both worked very hard on this bitterly cold day. Will you accept hot tea?"
The Gaffer wiped his forehead with a gloved hand, and accepted his cup gratefully. "Ah" he sighed. "That's a lovely cup of tea, Mr., Frodo." Sam glanced at his father feeling extremely small and insignificant in his eyes. At the memory of his last attempt at tea, he felt a twinge in his ankle, and then his shins and he knew the bandages needed changing.
"Sam?"
Sam looked up at Frodo for the briefest of moments before turning back to the pile of cut grass on the ground. "I'm not thirsty" said Sam, digging his shovel into the grass and carrying it over to the compost heap at the far side of the garden.
"Now Sam," the Gaffer said when Sam had returned from the heap, trying to hide the limp in his stride, " I thought I raised you with more manners than that. Accept your future master's generosity with gratitude!"
Sam looked at his father shamefully and he lifted his cup from the tray. He gave his thanks to Frodo whilst avoiding his gaze.
When he took a sip, he realised that it was indeed a lovely cup of tea, and spread warmth through him that was needed. He raised his eyes to meet Frodo's and thanked him with sincerity. Frodo simply nodded, offering a small, apologetic smile as he turned around and headed back into the smial.
*
Frodo sighed as he leant back against the door. Sam would not open up to him, or talk to him, even after his repeated gestures of kindness. He honestly couldn't tell whether Sam wanted him as a friend. All of his efforts so far had gone unappreciated, and every time Frodo tried to get close to the young boy he would clam up, and would say no word to Frodo.
He set the tray down on the chest by the door, making a note to himself to take it into the kitchen later on and set off down the hall. The sounds of laughter came from Merry's room, and he knew that he had Pippin in there and that they were playing a game of sorts.
At the end of the hall, the door to Bilbo's study was open, and he could hear his uncle muttering to himself. He strided down and knocked on the door.
"Blast, now where did I put that thing?" He looked up at the door and smiled at Frodo before inviting him in. "Come on lad, what's the matter with you then?"
Frodo sighed and sat down on Bilbo's chair whilst the older hobbit searched the room for something. Frodo took in a deep breath and sighed, thinking about what to say.
"Bilbo." Frodo looked up at his uncle, who was bustling about the study, "How long has Sam been working with the Gaffer?"
"What?" Bilbo looked up distractedly before he processed what had been said. "Oh, I should think about.two years now? .Yes two years. Shortly before his mother died wasn't it? Yes, two years." He went over to his desk and sorted through the various maps and sheets of parchment scattered upon it.
"And what do you think of him? After two years of service?" Frodo asked, playing with an ornate stone that Bilbo used as a paperweight from time to time.
"Who's that, lad?" Bilbo asked, looking back at him distractedly.
"Sam, uncle."
"Oh yes, Samwise!" He finished rifling through the papers and looked around the room for other places it could be lost in. "Nice enough lad, polite, and he cooks up the most loveliest meals sometimes. Always wants to help, even if there's nothing to be done." He spied the bin on the floor besides his desk and crouched down. "Yet odd, I feel" Bilbo turned his head to look back at Frodo, who wore a bemused expression on his pale face.
Frodo was well aware of Bilbo's reputation among the Shire, and he was often considered to be 'odd' or 'Mad Baggins' as they called him. He also knew that Bilbo was aware of this, and he made no mention as to whether this amused him or troubled him. Still for him to go around calling anybody else odd, was somewhat odd in itself.
"What do you mean, Bilbo?"
Bilbo had finished rifling through his bin as well with no success. He stood up and walked over to Frodo. "He's almost too polite." Bilbo explained. "He's a young lad, of what? 18 years?"
"19 Uncle, and it's his birthday in Astron." Frodo's eyes watered as he remembered that Bell had died a week before Sam's 19th birthday. There had been a part organised in the Green Dragon, and all Sam's friends and family had turned up, including Frodo but Sam did not show.
"19" Bilbo repeated, "A lad of his age should be up and about like our own Meriadoc. He's always so sad, and behind his eyes there is years worth of pain in there. Eager to work too, now you have to admit that at his age, work should be the last thing in his mind."
"I don't think he has a choice," Frodo spoke quietly, mostly to himself, "and it's a distraction from his life."
Bilbo heard these words and passed them off, knowing Frodo kept his troubles almost as well as he, himself did. Bilbo was a little better at hiding it than his younger cousin.
"It must be terrible for him, to lose his mother like that. For someone so young as well!"
"I was 12." Frodo looked up at Bilbo, tired of everyone admiring Sam for coping with the death of his mother so well. "And I recall losing my father as well."
Bilbo sighed and walked over to him, putting his hand encouragingly on his shoulder. "I know Frodo, I know, and you coped extremely well! Your mother's family took you in and took care of you, raised you. You made friends there, including a very young and very mischievous Merry.
Frodo smiled at the memory of his cousin, when he was much younger then Pippin.
"Sam's alone in the world" continued Bilbo, "I don't know what Sam does in his spare time but it's clear to me he doesn't go out with any folk he can call his friends, I've never seen him with anyone but his dad. Tell me Frodo, how many brothers and sisters does he have?"
Frodo sat in thought for a while. He had seen the Gaffer's eldest son, Hamson helping his dad out a few times when he had first arrived at Bag End, and the youngest girl, Marigold had helped her mother cook up a feast for Bilbo as a personal favour.
"Two, that I know of uncle, a brother and a sister."
"He has two brothers and three sisters." His cousin explained. "A large family, by hobbit standards."
"Where are they?" Frodo asked. "Why haven't I seen them?"
"The Gaffer, as well you know has very strong views on his class and ours, and has high respect for that, no matter how outdated his views may be. He kept his family out of mind and out of sight, maintaining a purely professional relationship. When Bell died, I suppose he couldn't cope with bringing six children up on his own. He sent his eldest sons to work in Tighfield and the North Farthing, and his daughters to stay with their Aunt May, in Tighfield as well. He would've sent Sam away if nobody thought he was too young to take on as an apprentice."
"So Samwise lives alone with Hamfast?"
"Yes, he does."
Frodo said no more and sat for a while, in silent thought.
"There you are!" Merry's head poked into the room. "Come on Frodo! Pippin wants to go exploring and you're our guide!" Pippin bounded into the room and ran over to Frodo, tugging his hand.
"Please? Please can we go Frodo?" Frodo smiled down at the boy, unwilling to disappoint him.
"Of course we can!" Frodo couldn't help but laugh as he was dragged out of the room. Bilbo looked around the room once more.
"Blast, where did I leave It?"
*
"What would you like me to do now sir?"
Hamfast looked up from the flowerbed that needed weeding before they replanted the bulbs next month, and surveyed the garden around him. "Nice work lad! You've done what I asked you to. There's naught left to do out here. Tell you what son, you go on in and ask if Mr. Bilbo or Mr. Frodo need you. If not, you can go on home for the rest of the day!"
Sam smiled up at his dad, even though he had no desire to go home to that empty smial on Bag Shot Row. He hoped with all his heart that Bilbo would find some use for him.
"Thank you sir" was his reply, pretending he was grateful for his father's kindness, even though it would bring him loneliness and sadness.
"Well go on then! See if Mr. Bilbo can find a use for you!" Sam nodded and walked away, heading towards the smial.
He walked inside and found a tray just inside on the chest. He perked up, already there was a job needed to be done. He took the tray and the empty cups into the kitchen and washed them, before putting them away in their rightful places. He looked around the kitchen for another job needing to be done and found nothing. He sighed and went off in search of Bilbo or Frodo.
Deep in the corners of his mind, he thought he heard the front door close, but he shook it off, thinking he imagined it and walked down the hall. The door to Bilbo's study was open, and the elder hobbit was standing in the doorway, looking altogether like he were somewhere else.
"Mr. Bilbo?"
Bilbo jumped, startled out of his wits. He calmed down when he laid eyes on Sam. "Oh! It's you Samlad."
"I'm sorry sir, I didn't mean to startle you."
"Oh nonsense lad! I was just deep in thought that's all. Trying to remember something."
"Anything I can help you with, sir?" Sam looked hopeful.
"Oh no lad, just my forgetfulness is all. No, you run along now, I shall be quite busy in here this afternoon."
"Are you sure there's nothing for me to do, sir? No cleaning, cooking, can I make you some tea?" Bilbo laughed and ruffled Sam's sandy curls, not yet highlighted by the coming sun.
"No, there's nothing. Frodo's gone out with his cousins to explore. It's a shame you didn't come in sooner, you could've gone with them and helped look after Pippin."
Sam's face fell, as did his spirits. "So there's nothing to do?"
"Nothing at all Sam. You just run along."
Sam nodded, feeling low. He would have to walk down the hill to his home, his empty home.
"All right then sir, good day!" He turned around and walked out of his smial, saying a final goodbye to his father, after asking if there was anything else needed doing. When he was answered in the negative, he finally left the hill and made his way to number 3, Bagshot row.