Author Notes: Whee! Another update! shirebound – thanks for reviewing again! You're so great! Wolf Child – Sam is four. Any slash I wrote would be child pornography. This is not a slash, calm your fears. None of this story will be slash, Frodo doesn't love Sam romantically (yet. When Sam's grown up, sure. But he's not. He's four.) Trilliah – girl, I love you! Butterfly – of course you're still my beta-reader! I ran this story past you, you said it was good. Remember? O_O Still my beta-reader, but first and foremost my friend. Thanks for reviewing (even if I don't read Japanese g)! BelleMonte – yeah, I know what you meant g. You give me such nice reviews! Thank you! Paper Crane – thanks so much! I love you, all my reviewers! Thank you thank you thank you! I'm updating just for you! Okay, sweetness in the last few chapters, now we're back to angst. Hope I did a good job with it (cough, that's a hint to tell me in your review)!
Frodo started having breakfast with the Gamgees every morning. Oftentimes, he would remain there for the better part of the day, talking with them and helping around the house as best he could. But every day, he talked a little less. Bell started keeping a close eye on him, and her shrewd gaze didn't miss the pallor of his cheeks, nor the shadows under his eyes, nor how those eyes were red at the corners with weeping. He seldom smiled anymore, and never laughed. In three weeks, he had gone from healing and hope to the emptiness and pain of the first days. Frodo was miserable, and thoroughly bewildered. What's wrong with me ? I was fine ! Everything was fine ! Why do I hurt so much now ?
Sitting in the Gamgee's kitchen one morning, watching the rain outside the window – it was an unusually rainy summer for the Shire – he closed his eyes. He heard rain, smelled warm bread, heard a woman – Bell – singing, felt her hand laid soft against his cheek. He jerked with surprise at the touch, but didn't open his eyes. Mother used to do that, used to sing and bake and I'd sit in the kitchen and she would touch me just like this, Mother used to do this… He opened his eyes and looked up. Bell was looking down at him with an expression so motherly the tears just filled his eyes and slipped down his face unnoticed.
« Oh, Frodo, » she murmured, shaking her head. Mother used to say that, just like that… He had a sudden, wild desire to throw his arms around Bell's neck and weep himself senseless, his face buried in that soft, sweet-scented hair, those nurturing arms tight about him…
« Mistress ? » he said, his voice wavering. Bell raised her brows. « Can I – could I call you M-mother ? » he stammered. Oh, please, don't be angry, I don't know why I said it, you remind me of her sometimes please let me call you mother I just want a mother again please –
« No, Frodo, » Bell said quietly. Frodo's eyes widened, and there was in them a hint of desperation.
« But – » he protested.
« No. I'm not your mother, lad » she said sternly. Frodo flinched as though he'd been struck and looked away, trying his hardest to control the tears that spilled down his pale cheeks. He was surprised when Bell reached out and picked him up, gathering him to her as easily as if he were Sam's size. « I'm not your mother, » she repeated softly. A cold, hard ache tightened in Frodo's chest, and laying his head on her shoulder, he wept freely. Bell carried him to the living room, and sat down in the rocking chair where she'd rocked all her children. Slowly, gently, she rocked him, until his breathing eased and he fell asleep. My poor baby, my poor Frodo. Lad, you're so lonely. That's what's wrong.You don't need a mother, an' I couldn't be one to you. You need a friend. A friend to share your loneliness, a friend to ease your pain. A friend to just – be there. An' *that* I think I can manage, if you can catch him.
Bilbo had worried a little about Frodo's whereabouts that first morning he had spent with the Gamgees, especially because he was gone all day. Where is he ? Oh dear, oh dear, I hope he hasn't run away. Of course he wouldn't, Bilbo, you old fool. The boy has a good head on his shoulders, he wouldn't run away, especially not in this weather. Would he ? He's been so moody, so unpredictable teenage emotions run high, he may not be thinking clearly... So his thoughts ran until Hamfast assured him that the boy was safe and warm in the Gamgee's kitchen, busy eating Bell's cinnamon rolls. Bilbo was relieved, but the possibility of Frodo running away lodged itself firmly in his thoughts and nagged at him constantly. He started asking Frodo where he was going, and how long he would stay. « At least leave a note, if you're going early, » Bilbo said. « I just want to know where you are, lad. I don't want to have to worry. » Frodo looked irritated at the questions, but complied readily enough.
Another week passed, and then another. Frodo's moods had been getting even more unpredictable he could be laughing one moment and weeping the next, and before Bilbo could ask what was wrong, he would run from the room.
Bilbo's anxiety grew as Frodo began sleeping less and crying out in nightmares. Always he would wake from these dreams weeping, and Bilbo often heard him crying softly at night. When he tried to offer comfort, Frodo would tell him to go away, to leave him alone. « I don't want you, » he said once, speaking with difficulty through his tears. If Bilbo didn't leave, he got angry. « Leave me alone ! Just go away ! » he cried, sitting up and glaring at him furiously. His blue eyes were dark and their look was wild had he been older or less self-contained, he might have hit Bilbo. But always, a shadow would pass over his face, and he would fall back onto his pillows, weeping. « Just go away. Please » he whispered, and Bilbo would leave reluctantly, more worried than ever. He needs a friend, he thought. He can't do this alone, and I'm too much older than he is to really count. Confusticate and bebother it all ! I wish Gandalf was here. He paused. No, wait. What about that boy ? His Elf ? Oh… now *that* might work…
~*~*~*~*~*~*
There was an ache in Frodo's heart that grew as the weeks passed, and he was much troubled, but he didn't know why. Every time he tried to pin it down, the thought slipped away from him as easily as a minnow in a pond. He spent much of his time in the meadow, now it was the only place that offered him solace. He poured out his sorrows into the wind, and the trees and grasses told not his secrets. Many were the gifts he found in those weeks – more beads, of all colors, and wildflowers, and a bracelet of braided yarn, and – strangely enough – a piece of birch bark with a portrait of himself scratched into it. The drawing was unusually delicate, and had captured all his features with a peculiar grace. He couldn't have drawn this, Frodo thought. He must've had someone else do it, and then he brought it here.
On the contrary, the boy had drawn the picture over the course of weeks of quiet watching. Frodo's features were very distinctive, almost Elvish, and little Samwise had a sharp eye and nimble fingers. Many a piece of bark was discarded before he obtained what he'd been after, and the final result was undeniably Frodo. He'd kept the portrait under his pillow for a week before finally – and very reluctantly – parting with it. He would talk to it, and kiss it, and hug it close, dreaming about a time somewhere in the future where he and the dark-haired stranger-boy would be friends.
He had seen them – Frodo and Bilbo – the day Frodo had arrived. The pale stranger, with his thick, dark hair and sad blue eyes had made an immediate impression on him. Coming upon him in the meadow, weeping, the boy felt so sorry for him he almost wept himself. Samwise had no idea what had befallen Frodo, but he had a very compassionate nature, and Frodo's grief pained him no end. And so the little boy had watched and waited, and found a way and a reason to make Frodo smile. The little gifts Sam left – things he himself treasured – were apparently much appreciated by the stranger. The grief would lift from his face awhile, and if he did not smile, at least he did not weep. But when he did weep – oh ! It tore at the child's own heart. So still he watched, and waited, and found other ways to soothe him.
He had already decided that he loved Frodo most in all the world, and that, contrary to what his elder sisters said, this was not some childish infatuation that would fade as he grew older. No, sir – this was the real thing. He loved Frodo, and he knew it. Now, the problem lay in telling Frodo himself. And it was a problem, too he had a broad streak of shyness. But one o' these days, I'll tell him. An' then we'll be friends. Yes. We'll be friends. And he smiled secretly to himself.
Frodo took the portrait and put it on his nightstand. Later, it got put into a drawer, and there it remained for more than 40 years. He would take it out and look at it, and think of the boy who had given it to him. When he left across the Sundering Seas, it was one of the two things he brought with him. For now, it lay on his bedside table, where he could see it always.
By far the most treasured of all the gifts he found was – a blanket. A simple, green, woven wool blanket, somewhat frayed at the edges and indescribably soft with years of washing. This is his blanket, Frodo thought, and had no doubt about it. He rubbed the soft fabric against his cheek, and clung to it at night. Many a tear he shed into the soft green wool of that blanket, and it was his greatest comfort when his heart was sore then, and in later years. This too, went across with him into the West, and he held it when his arms ached to hold its owner. Long years he kept it, until they were rejoined. But all that was many, many years in the future.
Frodo came to the meadow on an afternoon when the sky was white with heat, and the air seemed thick and sticky. Clothes clung damply to the skin and hair clung wetly to the scalp. All sound seemed muffled, all motions slow. Frodo came to the meadow to get out of the house, because the heat was even worse inside. He walked slowly under the trees that ringed it, though in the humidity, their shade did little good. He went to the stone where the gifts were left, and saw there a bottle of water. He almost laughed out loud. Practical little thing, this Samwise. He heard a sudden noise, and turning swiftly, saw a small foot disappearing behind a tree. It's him ! Ilbereth, what do I do now ?I shouldn't call out he left last time I did that. Carefully setting the water bottle down, he walked softly towards the tree. The boy slipped away, faster than sight, and hid behind another tree. Frodo came closer, and Sam again disappeared. Frodo frowned, confused.
« Hello ? » he called. Sam stood stock-still, barely breathing. He grinned to himself when Frodo didn't find him. It was fun, this hide-and-seek. Frodo paused a moment and listened, then walked determinedly towards Sam's tree. The child waited half a second, and ran.
« Hey ! » Frodo cried upon seeing him. « Hey ! Wait ! » He began running after Sam, but his Elf proved faster and more agile. Sam dodged between trees, running through the shadows.
« Hey ! » Frodo cried again, and heard a silvery laugh. He's teasing me ! The bloody imp is teasing me ! he thought, but couldn't bring himself to be angry. Rather, he felt like laughing himself at the ridiculousness of it all. Here I am, a sixteen year-old chasing a child through the woods – and losing ! It's too ironic.
He chased for several more minutes before finally losing sight of the child. Oh, I give up. It's too hot, he thought, wiping the sweat from his brow. That was fun, he realized suddenly. Really. I wish he hadn't gotten away.
« Well, wherever you are – one of these days I'm going to catch you ! » he called to the trees. Another silvery giggle touched upon his hearing, and he smiled. « One of these days, » he promised himself, and walked slowly home. His heart was strangely lightened by the encounter, and remained so for the rest of the day. It's him. It must be. Something about him makes it better, makes it go away – whatever 'it' is. Something about him…
~*~*~*~*~*~*
A/N: Like it? They're going to meet soon, no fear! I hope I did alright with the angst O_O Thank you all for reading and reviewing! You're the greatest!