Hullo you guys!…all three of you. :P
I'm glad that some people are enjoying this.
Hehe, so you didn't hate it after all, Sarah. Oh goody! :D All right, so I didn't think you really would, and if you did, you certainly weren't going to say anything, but I think you liked it…or you're an extremely convincing liar. ;)
Yes, well, I think my favorite character to write was…hm, I guess either Sam or Rosie. Heck, maybe both. Frodo was pretty fun too, though his playful attitude rather depressed me in light of later events. As for Gollum, I must confess to a *serious* Sauroman-and-Cassia moment, and spent most of his scenes wanting desperately to strangle him! ;) But I endured. :D
Yes, Shmallow, Frodo is *quite* the stinker. (he and Gollum should make a club! ;) I also have a feeling that "cute" is going to be a common adj. on this story. I mean, that's just Rosie and Sam all over! ;) And yes, aren't we ALL suckers for adorable couples? Plus, adorable *hobbit* couples are ten-times more sweet, and Sam and Rosie are completely off the chart (the top of the chart) DARLING!
*sigh* If nothing else, I'm certainly in love with them ;)
Hi Kellen! I'm glad you decided to swing over here, even though this isn't quite your thing. I didn't expect too many people from my Lego-Ara-angst fic to show up on a Rosie-Sam-romance fic. ;) Awww no rambles? Well, shucks, Kellen. Hope you have a great time on your family trip!…and that you return with tons of rambles in mind! ;)
Okay, well, according to Siri, the link to Rosie's bouquet doesn't work. Here, this one should:
http://community.webshots.com/photo/53705226/54808834DZTLHl
If not, well, real sorry there. There's one more I can try, but after that, well, it's hopeless. *sigh* oh well. ;)
Okay, onto the story!
Chapter 2
Cup of Tea
"You had a *wonderful* time, Sam." Frodo beamed. "I don't know why you were angry with me."
"Don't get me wrong, Mr. Frodo, I had a good time with Rosie. A *perfect* time, really, if the deepest truth must be told. I only- Well, you *did* leave me alone. We were almost at Bywater's doorstep before you showed up. And mind you, carrying Rosie home caused an uproar, with her brothers at least. Nearly worried dear Mrs. Cotton sick."
"I told you, I….I'm sorry, Sam, but why was I not there?"
"You 'accidentally startled Farmer Maggot's pony, upset his cart, and had to help him clean up his spilt cabbages', I believe."
"Oh yes. Well, it is true, Sam, though- well perhaps not the 'accidentally' part."
Sam shook his head, but was smiling almost as big as his friend.
Frodo leaned over to look at him. "I take the look in you eye to mean you forgive me?"
Sam looked up, the mirth still shining brightly in his eyes. "No, Mr. Frodo, I wouldn't say that. I was only thinking of when Miss Rose and Yarrow came for tea."
"When?"
"When they came for tea at Bagshot Row."
Frodo's eyes went, if possible, wider than they were normally. "Oh no, Sam. No, not the-"
"What? You don't remember that?"
"Oh yes. I do." Frodo leaned back, a playful grouchiness about him. "All too well."
*****
Frodo felt another cool breeze touch his face, moving his dark curls about. It then proceeded to turn the page on the leather-bound book he held in front of him. He was, indeed, still in the middle of previous page, not wanting to foil the kind wind's efforts, he didn't turn it back. Besides, he wasn't quite reading anyway. It was too beautiful a day to bury himself in a book. Why read of beautiful, far-off lands, when the Shire stood before his eyes?
But still, his mind wandered far, imagining the humble Shire was instead standing East of the Misty Mountains. That the small wood around him was instead the great forest of Mirkwood. That the farmhouse a half mile West, was the palace of King Thranduil, lord of the wood elves. That every bird that landed nearby was a great spider, hunting through the trees for prey.
He was beyond actually doing anything to accompany these day dreams, though . When he had been very little, he'd found choice sticks and imagined he held the elvan blade, Sting, and the first thing it could destroy without snapping the 'blade' was automatically deemed one of Bilbo's giants. As he lifted a branch from the ground, he could remember vividly his imaginary battles. He would attack the stationary trees and bushes, pretending to defend everyone in Mirkwood. Imagining that every twist or thrust could change everything; that *he*, Frodo Baggins, could save all Middle Earth.
He shook his head, and leaned it against the trunk behind him, letting the book fall into his lap. Yes, well, not much chance for a hobbit to save Middle Earth, was there?
"Frodo."
Frodo jumped, whirling around, holding the twig he'd been imagining was Sting, outstretched like the weapon he'd been thinking it to be.
Sam jumped back, his hands up in the same automatic, and yet not quite necessary or helpful, gesture.
"Sam!"
"I'm sorry, Mr. Frodo, I didn't mean to startle you! You scared *me* as well!"
Frodo looked down at the stick in his hand, and turning slightly pink, tossed it over his shoulder, and sat back on his heals. "What are you doing here?"
"I- I wanted your help." Sam answered slowly, letting his hands fall from the defensive pose.
"My help? With what?"
Sam looked awkwardly over his shoulder, and sat down next to Frodo. "Here. Come with me. Please Mr. Frodo?"
"All right, Sam." Frodo pushed himself off the ground, and followed Sam into the woods.
The two finally stopped behind a big oak tree. "There." Sam whispered, pointing around the tree.
Frodo leaned around it, and blinked. "…Sam? It's only Yarrow Brandybuck and Rose Cotton."
Sam nodded blankly, and Frodo slowly caught on.
"Sh! Mr. Frodo, they'll hear you, 'f you keep laughing like that!"
"I- I- I- I'm sorry, Sam." Frodo murmured, trying his hardest to keep his laughter down in volume. "What'd you want my help with?"
"I want to say hullo, but I don't rightly know how I'll do it without looking foolish."
"Oh yes." Frodo said in a mock-serious tone. "We don't want Yarrow Brandybuck thinking you look foolish."
"Well, I thought maybe you would know what to say to her- well to them."
"Well," Frodo leaned against the tree, and putting his would-be-serious tone back on. "I think you should go up to her and say 'Hullo! I would like you two, especially you, Rosie, to come for afternoon tea at my place on Bagshot Row. In fact, I'll escort you there!'"
"And I suppose *you* would prepare everything."
"Of course! Why, I would even make some parsley stew for you two-" He cleared his throat loudly "I mean three. Performers too! A special presentation for Rosie."
Sam shook his head slowly, still watching the two hobbit-lasses, and felt Frodo's hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry, Samwise. Just be yourself."
"And that I shall, Mr. Frodo." He said decrepitly, and then added, in a not-so-brave tone, "Once I work up the courage, at least."
Frodo smiled softly, and sat down with his book again. Sam, Sam, Sam. He thought, leaning his head against the tree trunk again. He never *did* think very well of himself. He needed to be more brave, secure, perhaps he merely needed practice…
Frodo suddenly heard voices. Once he caught them, he realized he'd been hearing them awhile. And it sounded vaguely like:
"…on Bagshot Row. In fact, I'll escort you there!"
Frodo leapt to his feet, and, forgetting his book, raced through the woods to where the girls had been. Sam now stood between them, holding out an arm for each, and they were strolling towards Hobbiton again.
Frodo stopped dead in his tracks as Sam turned around, and gave him a wink. But- if Sam was really serving afternoon tea at his house, then-
"And I suppose *you* would prepare everything."
"Of course! Why, I would even make some parsley stew for you two…"
He then heard Sam's voice again. "…some parsley stew, entertainment…" Frodo gulped. He didn't even know *how* to make parsley stew!
Running the whole way, he took the shortest rout to Bagshot Row, and finally reached the circular door. Luckily, Sam's Gaffer had also gone elsewhere for afternoon tea, but- well, maybe not so lucky. Perhaps *he* knew how to make parsley stew.
Frodo knew how to brew tea quite well, so he went ahead and started boiling the water over the open fire, and lay some of the better herbs on the table, ready to be added.
He turned to one of the cupboards, and pulled out one of Sam's best pots, setting it loudly on the table. He then went for the basket of freshly-picked vegetables sitting by the door, and pulled some healthy sprigs of parsley from it's contents. A couple nervous moments later, and he was pouring the boiling water from the teapot into the empty pot, and then began to boil some more for the tea.
He stood there, a long moment of terrible silence hanging over him. What now? He slowly, carefully, dropped the parsley in, leaf by leaf. Then, grabbing a wooden ladle, he began to stir the dry leafs into the boiled water with a soft; stirring for awhile, then picking up the ladle letting the green globs fall back into the pot, and the sound of it echoed through the otherwise silent kitchen. *sssllrrrllrrrlllrrrrrr…sllloonk!* This *couldn't* be the traditional way of making parsley stew.
Deciding it would be nicer, and wanting an excuse to abandon the 'stew', moved the tea kettle and tea herbs into the sitting room, rather than the kitchen table. Nodding, satisfied, he was forced to return to the soggy leaves floating in warm water that was meant to be a stew.
He was still prodding at the limp leaves half-heartedly with the wooden ladle, when he heard the door-knob turn, and the creaking of hinges. This was immediately followed by Sam's voice, and the light giggle of Rose and Yarrow.
Frodo backed further into the kitchen so no one would see him standing there. He didn't want to ruin Sam's time with Rosie, and finding Frodo there, stirring a pot of water with soggy leafs floating in it would certainly attracted a lot of attention.
He stayed in the kitchen, listening to the light chatter and the slight clink of teacups, not knowing what to do. The only interesting change, was when Rosie hissed slightly, and reported burning her tongue, which was followed by Sam's ardent apology. Then the worst came.
"Sam," came Yarrow's small voice. "did you say you made parsley stew?"
"Well, not me no. But there is some, if you should like it when you're done with your tea."
A loud clatter then came, accompanied by a light gasp.
"Miss Yarrow, I'm so sorry. Here I'll get you-"
"No, no, Sam. Yes, I'm fine, Rosie. No, I'll get a towel. Just a moment!"
Frodo shrank into the shadow of the pantry, just as the hobbit came in, tea-stains down the front of her yellow dress. She stood before the water pump, wetting a towel and swiping her dress with it awhile. Then, apparently satisfied, she set down the towel, and turned from the water pump.
"Hullo, Frodo. Let me see it."
Frodo's eyes went wide, and he slowly stepped from the shadows. "See what?"
"The parsley stew you've been trying to make."
Frodo's jaw dropped this time, and with his eyes already the size of teacup saucers, it was fairly comical.
"Come, come. It's not so surprising. Thanks to Sam always making food for you, you never were a very good cook." She peered into the pot he was holding, and shook her head, unable to hide the evident smile on her face. "Tsk tsk." She sighed, taking the pot from Frodo, smiling again. "Let me help you."
"What about Rosie and Sam?"
Yarrow glanced over her shoulder, in time to hear the high, sincere giggle from Rosie. "I think they'll be just *fine*." And Frodo returned the knowing smile.
"That *was* a beautiful day, that was." Rosie said softly, and Sam nodded,
"Days on the Hill are always lovely, but that one was loveliest."
"It was a good day to pick flowers. I still have the Buttercups you put in my hair. I dried them, and hung them from my ceiling." she beamed at him.
"Oh-" Sam went red. "I don't have the Bluets anymore. That is- I should like to, but I lost them." he looked down and pretended to find the floor very amusing.
"How 'bout some stew?" Rosie asked brightly, trying to get the sorry face off of Sam.
"Sure." He said, pulling himself out of his chair, and going into the kitchen. There, Frodo and Yarrow stood over a pot sitting over the open fire. They looked up as he entered the room.
"Uh, Sam?" Frodo began. "The- the stew won't be done in time to have it now. I'm very sorry, I couldn't figure it out, and we got a late start. I don't think we have enough parsley for it anymore either."
Sam nodded, and shrugged. "That's all right. Miss Rose will have to leave soon anyway." Frodo bit his lip, the fact that Sam didn't use Rose's nick-name worried him.
"Wait- what about the entertainment?" Yarrow asked, trying to find something to cheer Sam up. This, unfortunately had the wrong affect. Sam looked up at Frodo, who's face had gone quite pale.
"I- forgot." Frodo studdered, biting his lip so hard that the blood-veins became twice as evident, and Sam's face fell. "Look- look Sam. I wasn't expecting you to take me seriously!
"You weren't?" Now Sam's face went pale.
"No, I- I was only joking." Frodo admitted quietly.
"I'm a silly hobbit, that's what I am! Just like my Gaffer says, 'you take things seriously that ought not be taken so' that's what I've done."
"Sam, please. Don't think of what your Gaffer would say of you. It's not your fault."
Sam sighed, and shook his head. "I'd best tell Miss Rose it's time to go home."
"Sam," Frodo put a hand on his shoulder. "surely you could play a tune on your flute?" his voice was imploring.
Sam looked up at Frodo slowly, and nodded. "I suppose, it's least I could do."
Rosie was sitting in the high back chair still when Sam came in, holding his wooden flute in his trembling hand. Behind him, Yarrow came, and sat beside Rosie, while Frodo stood, leaning against the doorframe of kitchen.
Sam smiled half-heartedly at Rosie, and put the wooden flute to his lips. A soft melody filled the room, calming everyone who heard it. After awhile, Yarrow closed her eyes, letting the music sink in, but not Rosie. She never once took her bright eyes off Sam.
When the melody was finished, the three hobbits gave it's player a round of whole-hearted applause.
"Did you write that, Sam?" Yarrow asked, smiling at him.
Sam when a little red again. "I- well no. I play it a lot though. What it's right name is, I don't really know. But it's light, and it's pretty, so I call it Rose."
Rosie was completely glowing. Frodo didn't even know if she'd really heard the tune, she was too busy staring bright-eyed at Sam. "It was *wonderful* Sam. It was perfect." Rosie's smile got, if possible, happier, and she stood up. "It's been one my best afternoons ever!"
Sam's face was bright red, and he was twisting the flute nervously in his hands, but when she said this, he beamed and glowed almost as brightly as she did. "Mine too."
"It went very well, Sam." Frodo assured an hour later, putting another set of dishes in the stone sink, to await washing.
Sam sighed. "The stew didn't work, the conversation went all wrong, Miss Yarrow spilt tea on her dress, Rosie burnt her tongue, because I was not decent enough to test the water temperature, and I dare say I missed a note or two on the music. Music that was not even my own. And all because I took you too seriously. Well done, Samwise. Oh yes, well done."
Frodo shook his head, forsaking the dishes in the sink a moment, and moving beside his friend. "Sam. Did you see her face? When you finished your music? The sun itself could not have shone brighter. She had the best day ever today."
"No thanks to me, Samwise indeed I am! Half-wise. So simple, I can't do any of it right! I am a foolish hobbit."
"No, Sam, no." Frodo sat on the edge of the table, steering Sam gently into the chair in front of it. "It was *my* fault. Rosie burnt her tongue on the tea, for I did not think to boil the water for the tea first and give it time to cool for you. Miss Yarrow only spilt her tea so she could come help me with the stew *I* couldn't figure out and therefore it was late. The only reason the conversation was awkward was because Yarrow had come to help me, and wasn't out there to keep the conversation moving." He tilted his head to the side a bit. "But *you* Sam. You played your heart out to Rosie. You made her glow as only you've ever been able to do. You saved the afternoon, Sam. You really did."
Sam sat back in his chair, his eyes still fixed on Frodo. "Do you- d'you really think that, Mr. Frodo? Or are you saying all this to only make me feel better?"
"Yes, I do. I really do."
Sam nodded, sighing, and letting a smile slide across his lips. "Did she really smile?"
"Ooh she did." Frodo nodded for emphasis, and almost laughed at the memory of it. "and even you said that it was a wonderful afternoon."
"I did, but it was mostly for being polite. But- yes now I think it was actually very- did she laugh to? I must confess, I was a little upset at the moment, and didn't notice much of her response."
"She was too busy watching your every move, I think." Frodo smiled.
"I do wish I had not made such a fool of myself with our conversation, though." Sam murmured.
"Don't worry, Sam. We shall both laugh about this some day."
*****