Sorry for not updating for.. for.. a long time. At least I didn't leave
you off at a cliffhanger or something.
Anyway. I hope you enjoy this chapter!
(By the way, does anyone know if I am required to do a disclaimer? I just
realized that I haven't been doing them, and practically all the other
authors do, and I don't want to get in some kind of trouble. I'd really
appreciate it if someone cleared this up for me. Thanks!)
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"Mr. Frodo, do you want these books in this box or the large one?" Sam called out, pausing before placing the stack of papers down.
"The large one." Came a voice from the other room.
Hearing this, Sam packed away the books in the large box sitting on the bed (noting that they wouldn't have fit in the smaller box anyway). It was two days until he would accompany Frodo to Crickhollow, and he was now helping Frodo load his possessions into boxes so that they could be easily carried to Buckland in wagons.
Sam was thankful that his ankle was giving him few troubles this morning. The previous evening, after Rosie had left and after his Gaffer had called him "ninnyhammer" more than a few times, he had tucked himself into bed, worrying that his ankle would keep him from his work the next day. He was relieved to find that some rest and some ice were all his ankle needed, and he could get around fairly well with only a slight limp.
As soon as he shoved the last book into the box, pushing extremely hard to get the lid closed, he sat down on the bed to rest for a moment. From where he sat, he had a perfect view outside the small round window into the garden; there were roses growing right by the window. He stared. They were lovely, soft petals stained a deep red. He smiled, for he knew a rose that was far more beautiful.
While he was staring wistfully out the window, Frodo walked in carrying another box. "Sam, I thought we should start taking the boxes outside, and . . ." he noticed Sam's blank staring eyes. "Sam! Are you there?"
Sam jerked out of his reverie. "Yes!? What?" He saw Frodo standing there with a large box and immediately jumped up to take it.
Frodo set the box down on the floor with the others before Sam could get there. "That must have been some pleasant dream world you were in, Sam." He said, grinning.
Sam looked down at his feet, mumbling a few incoherent words. Frodo, still smiling, just shook his head. "Anyway Sam, as I was going to say, I thought he should start bringing the boxes outside. It won't be long now until Merry, Pippin, Fatty, and the others come with the wagons."
********************************************
Frodo was correct. No sooner had they come outside that three wagons came rolling up toward the hill. Some of Frodo's friends, Meriadoc Brandybuck, Peregrin Took, and Fredegar Bolger among them, had come to assist in the final stages of the packing. A few hours later, two wagons filled with furniture from Bag End were driven away, leaving just Frodo, Merry, Pippin, Sam, and Fatty at Bag End with a few last boxes to be taken in the third wagon the next morning.
After the wagons were out of sight, the five hobbits took a break for afternoon tea.
No sooner had they begun to eat, Sam felt himself being drowned in his reverie once more. Though Pippin and Fatty seemed too engrossed in their meal to detect this, it did not go unnoticed by Frodo and Merry.
"Frodo," Merry whispered, so that the daydreamer could not hear (not that he would have even if Merry was shouting). "Have you noticed that Sam seems rather . . . detached today?"
Frodo nodded slightly. "Yes, I have seen him slip into a daze several times. I wonder what is wrong with him?"
Merry pursed his lips in frustration. "I don't know if anything is wrong, it doesn't seem like he's depressed or anything."
Frodo sighed. "Well, we'll just have to wait and see."
At this point, Pippin looked up from his plate, noting that the butter was clear at the other end of the table by Sam. Thinking it plainly unnatural to eat his bread without butter, he asked Sam, "Can you pass the butter, Sam?"
Sam jolted as he was yanked from his daydream, spoke while still half in his fantasy, "Yes Rosie?"
All of the hobbits at the table stared shocked.
Sam, apparently not aware of what he had said, shifted in his seat, uncomfortable from the gawking faces of his friends. "What's everyone staring at?"
After another pause, Pippin ventured hesitantly, "You . . . you just called me, Rosie."
Sam's face paled, and then flushed scarlet. He managed a weak, "I did?"
Fatty, setting down his fork, smirked. "You have your eyes on a lass, haven't you?"
"Well . . ."
"Oh Sam that's wonderful!" Pippin burst out. "How many times have you had dinner with her yet?"
Sam blinked. "None."
Merry gasped. "That won't do! Here, I know! Why don't you ask her to go with you on a picnic dinner by the lake!"
Fatty's face brightened even more. "Yes! That would be perfect!"
"But . . ." Sam tried to cut in.
"You do want to, don't you Sam?" Merry asked, concern showing briefly on his face. "You'll never get to know her more without spending some time with her, Sam. What's keeping you from asking?"
Sam, turning an even redder shade, looked down at his plate.
"Merry," Said Frodo, who had remained silent through most of this. "I think he's shy and nervous."
Pippin clapped his hands. "Well if that's all that's all that's keeping him back!"
Fatty nodded. "Yes, that's easy to fix!"
"Don't worry Sam!" Merry added. "We'll help you with that!"
They spent the next hour giving Sam tips and suggestions, and he listened raptly, but then they came to the subject of flowers.
"You should bring her some flowers, Sam!" Insisted Merry. "All lasses love flowers."
"True," said Sam, "But what kind?"
"Any kind, Sam!" Pippin burst out.
"As long as they're pretty, they'll do," declared Fatty.
"No, you don't understand," said Sam, dejectedly. "I would be afraid to give her flowers. Rosie is more beautiful than any flower, and compared to she, all blossoms, no matter how pleasing to the eye, would be overshadowed." Sam paused, slightly embarrassed at his words. "Besides," he continued softly, "I don't think that Rosie would like me pulling flowers from the ground. She likes gardens like me, and I'd rather keep them in the ground so they can keep growing."
The other hobbits sighed. "Then what are you going to do?"
Sam thought for a moment, and then his face brightened suddenly. "I have an idea! Hold on, I'll be right back." He stumbled out the door so fast, that the hobbits left at the table barely had time to blink. A few minutes later, Sam came hurrying back in with a small, wooden box in his hand.
As soon as he sat down, Pippin said excitedly, "What's in there?"
Sam glared at him for a split second. "You'll find out in a moment if you could just hold your horses for a few seconds!"
Sam sat down at the table, and blew dust from the lid. "This box," he said quietly, "holds a few things that belonged to my mother. I keep them here to remember her by." The other hobbits stared in silence as he opened the lid, revealing a few random objects inside. But Sam had his eye on one in particular, and slowly pulled it out. There was a collective gasp of breath from the hobbits.
It was a glass figure of a rose, perfectly shaped, and it caught the light from the candles and glittered. Sam smiled at their reaction. "It's pretty isn't it? It's the only thing I can think of that can even come close to being as pretty as Rosie."
Pippin, shocked, spoke softly, "You're really going to give her something that belonged to your mother?"
Sam nodded. "I want it to be special."
Everyone at the table smiled. Merry spoke first. "It's settled then."
*********************************************
The rest of the day was spent finishing the packing, and when dinner drew near, preparing Sam for the picnic.
Finally Sam, with a basket filled with food, a blanket, and his gift on his arm, began to head out the door, but Frodo spoke with him quietly first.
"Sam," he said. "The others don't know that we're not going to stay in Crickhollow. They think that you'll still be able to come back here and visit her, but you're not, Sam."
Sam swallowed hard. "I understand, Mr. Frodo."
Frodo nodded, but he wasn't finished talking yet. "I don't want you to get hurt, Sam. If you really love this girl, I don't want you to feel compelled to leave her to come with me on this journey. I'm telling you now, that you can stay here, with Rosie."
Sam shook his head. "No, Mr. Frodo. I'm coming with you no matter what."
Frodo, smiled a little, but his face was still shadowed by sorrow for his friend. "But then, you'll have to leave her . . ."
Sam shook his head again. "Listen to me, Mr. Frodo. I may love the girl, but I'm still coming with you. We may be gone a while, but I know we'll be back soon."
Frodo's smile got stronger. "I hope you're right, Sam." He then nodded toward the road. "You better get going. Good luck, Sam."
Sam nodded, and began to head toward the Cotton farm.
Before he knew it, he was there, and knocking on the door.
TBC
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"Mr. Frodo, do you want these books in this box or the large one?" Sam called out, pausing before placing the stack of papers down.
"The large one." Came a voice from the other room.
Hearing this, Sam packed away the books in the large box sitting on the bed (noting that they wouldn't have fit in the smaller box anyway). It was two days until he would accompany Frodo to Crickhollow, and he was now helping Frodo load his possessions into boxes so that they could be easily carried to Buckland in wagons.
Sam was thankful that his ankle was giving him few troubles this morning. The previous evening, after Rosie had left and after his Gaffer had called him "ninnyhammer" more than a few times, he had tucked himself into bed, worrying that his ankle would keep him from his work the next day. He was relieved to find that some rest and some ice were all his ankle needed, and he could get around fairly well with only a slight limp.
As soon as he shoved the last book into the box, pushing extremely hard to get the lid closed, he sat down on the bed to rest for a moment. From where he sat, he had a perfect view outside the small round window into the garden; there were roses growing right by the window. He stared. They were lovely, soft petals stained a deep red. He smiled, for he knew a rose that was far more beautiful.
While he was staring wistfully out the window, Frodo walked in carrying another box. "Sam, I thought we should start taking the boxes outside, and . . ." he noticed Sam's blank staring eyes. "Sam! Are you there?"
Sam jerked out of his reverie. "Yes!? What?" He saw Frodo standing there with a large box and immediately jumped up to take it.
Frodo set the box down on the floor with the others before Sam could get there. "That must have been some pleasant dream world you were in, Sam." He said, grinning.
Sam looked down at his feet, mumbling a few incoherent words. Frodo, still smiling, just shook his head. "Anyway Sam, as I was going to say, I thought he should start bringing the boxes outside. It won't be long now until Merry, Pippin, Fatty, and the others come with the wagons."
********************************************
Frodo was correct. No sooner had they come outside that three wagons came rolling up toward the hill. Some of Frodo's friends, Meriadoc Brandybuck, Peregrin Took, and Fredegar Bolger among them, had come to assist in the final stages of the packing. A few hours later, two wagons filled with furniture from Bag End were driven away, leaving just Frodo, Merry, Pippin, Sam, and Fatty at Bag End with a few last boxes to be taken in the third wagon the next morning.
After the wagons were out of sight, the five hobbits took a break for afternoon tea.
No sooner had they begun to eat, Sam felt himself being drowned in his reverie once more. Though Pippin and Fatty seemed too engrossed in their meal to detect this, it did not go unnoticed by Frodo and Merry.
"Frodo," Merry whispered, so that the daydreamer could not hear (not that he would have even if Merry was shouting). "Have you noticed that Sam seems rather . . . detached today?"
Frodo nodded slightly. "Yes, I have seen him slip into a daze several times. I wonder what is wrong with him?"
Merry pursed his lips in frustration. "I don't know if anything is wrong, it doesn't seem like he's depressed or anything."
Frodo sighed. "Well, we'll just have to wait and see."
At this point, Pippin looked up from his plate, noting that the butter was clear at the other end of the table by Sam. Thinking it plainly unnatural to eat his bread without butter, he asked Sam, "Can you pass the butter, Sam?"
Sam jolted as he was yanked from his daydream, spoke while still half in his fantasy, "Yes Rosie?"
All of the hobbits at the table stared shocked.
Sam, apparently not aware of what he had said, shifted in his seat, uncomfortable from the gawking faces of his friends. "What's everyone staring at?"
After another pause, Pippin ventured hesitantly, "You . . . you just called me, Rosie."
Sam's face paled, and then flushed scarlet. He managed a weak, "I did?"
Fatty, setting down his fork, smirked. "You have your eyes on a lass, haven't you?"
"Well . . ."
"Oh Sam that's wonderful!" Pippin burst out. "How many times have you had dinner with her yet?"
Sam blinked. "None."
Merry gasped. "That won't do! Here, I know! Why don't you ask her to go with you on a picnic dinner by the lake!"
Fatty's face brightened even more. "Yes! That would be perfect!"
"But . . ." Sam tried to cut in.
"You do want to, don't you Sam?" Merry asked, concern showing briefly on his face. "You'll never get to know her more without spending some time with her, Sam. What's keeping you from asking?"
Sam, turning an even redder shade, looked down at his plate.
"Merry," Said Frodo, who had remained silent through most of this. "I think he's shy and nervous."
Pippin clapped his hands. "Well if that's all that's all that's keeping him back!"
Fatty nodded. "Yes, that's easy to fix!"
"Don't worry Sam!" Merry added. "We'll help you with that!"
They spent the next hour giving Sam tips and suggestions, and he listened raptly, but then they came to the subject of flowers.
"You should bring her some flowers, Sam!" Insisted Merry. "All lasses love flowers."
"True," said Sam, "But what kind?"
"Any kind, Sam!" Pippin burst out.
"As long as they're pretty, they'll do," declared Fatty.
"No, you don't understand," said Sam, dejectedly. "I would be afraid to give her flowers. Rosie is more beautiful than any flower, and compared to she, all blossoms, no matter how pleasing to the eye, would be overshadowed." Sam paused, slightly embarrassed at his words. "Besides," he continued softly, "I don't think that Rosie would like me pulling flowers from the ground. She likes gardens like me, and I'd rather keep them in the ground so they can keep growing."
The other hobbits sighed. "Then what are you going to do?"
Sam thought for a moment, and then his face brightened suddenly. "I have an idea! Hold on, I'll be right back." He stumbled out the door so fast, that the hobbits left at the table barely had time to blink. A few minutes later, Sam came hurrying back in with a small, wooden box in his hand.
As soon as he sat down, Pippin said excitedly, "What's in there?"
Sam glared at him for a split second. "You'll find out in a moment if you could just hold your horses for a few seconds!"
Sam sat down at the table, and blew dust from the lid. "This box," he said quietly, "holds a few things that belonged to my mother. I keep them here to remember her by." The other hobbits stared in silence as he opened the lid, revealing a few random objects inside. But Sam had his eye on one in particular, and slowly pulled it out. There was a collective gasp of breath from the hobbits.
It was a glass figure of a rose, perfectly shaped, and it caught the light from the candles and glittered. Sam smiled at their reaction. "It's pretty isn't it? It's the only thing I can think of that can even come close to being as pretty as Rosie."
Pippin, shocked, spoke softly, "You're really going to give her something that belonged to your mother?"
Sam nodded. "I want it to be special."
Everyone at the table smiled. Merry spoke first. "It's settled then."
*********************************************
The rest of the day was spent finishing the packing, and when dinner drew near, preparing Sam for the picnic.
Finally Sam, with a basket filled with food, a blanket, and his gift on his arm, began to head out the door, but Frodo spoke with him quietly first.
"Sam," he said. "The others don't know that we're not going to stay in Crickhollow. They think that you'll still be able to come back here and visit her, but you're not, Sam."
Sam swallowed hard. "I understand, Mr. Frodo."
Frodo nodded, but he wasn't finished talking yet. "I don't want you to get hurt, Sam. If you really love this girl, I don't want you to feel compelled to leave her to come with me on this journey. I'm telling you now, that you can stay here, with Rosie."
Sam shook his head. "No, Mr. Frodo. I'm coming with you no matter what."
Frodo, smiled a little, but his face was still shadowed by sorrow for his friend. "But then, you'll have to leave her . . ."
Sam shook his head again. "Listen to me, Mr. Frodo. I may love the girl, but I'm still coming with you. We may be gone a while, but I know we'll be back soon."
Frodo's smile got stronger. "I hope you're right, Sam." He then nodded toward the road. "You better get going. Good luck, Sam."
Sam nodded, and began to head toward the Cotton farm.
Before he knew it, he was there, and knocking on the door.
TBC