Samwise was so intent on his task that he didn't notice the approaching hobbits until his father spoke to them.
"Ah, Master Bilbo! And our new young Master Baggins. Welcome back!"
Sam froze for a moment, his eyes wide, then spun around so quickly he nearly lost his balance. The ball of twine in his hands dropped to the ground, unnoticed, as he stared. Standing before him and his father was Mr. Bilbo—and standing just behind Mr. Bilbo was the hobbit-lad Sam'd seen through the window. Sam gulped, suddenly and uncharacteristically shy. The young hobbit glanced at him for a moment, his eyes even more startling and strikingly blue in the sunlight, before ducking his head again nervously. Sam realized he was gawking and looked down, embarrassed. This reminded him of his spying earlier and he wondered absently if he would be reprimanded for it.
The adults seemed oblivious to their discomfort, however.
"Thank you, indeed, Hamfast!" Bilbo said, clapping his gardener on the back. "And young Samwise! How nice to see you."
Sam was aware of all pairs of eyes on him, and he blushed. "'Mornin' Mr. Bilbo, sir," he mumbled, getting clumsily to his feet.
Bilbo smiled. "And now if I may introduce my nephew!" He turned to Frodo, who stepped forward hesitantly, a small, shy smile creeping nervously onto his face as he clasped his hands tightly behind his back. "Hamfast, Samwise, this is Frodo Baggins. Frodo: Hamfast and Samwise Gamgee. Hamfast is the finest gardener in the Shire, and Sam here takes after him quite well in that regard."
Hamfast laughed heartily. "Come now, Master Bilbo, no need for that!" he said, then turned to Frodo. "Pleased to meet you, lad! I hope you'll find Bag End to your liking, and Hobbiton as well."
Frodo nodded. "Yes, sir, I'm sure I will."
Hamfast nodded, then turned to his son, who was staring fixedly at a spot on the ground, his face burning.
"Come on, then, lad, say hello," he urged. "Since when are you at a loss for words, I like to know?" If it were possible, Sam's face got even redder, but he did manage to raise his eyes.
The older hobbit met his gaze steadily, and the fear that he would be reprimanded for his early morning spying began to melt.
"G--Good morning, Mr. Frodo," he managed, and started to offer his hand. He hesitated, however, when he realized how dirty it was, and for a moment stood awkwardly, hand frozen in mid air, wondering what to do.
Frodo, however, merely smiled. "Good morning to you, Samwise," he said, his voice clear and gentle as he reached out and caught the small grubby hand within his own pale, slender one. "Though there's no need for the 'Mr.'—I'm hardly old enough for that."
Sam looked up again, and when his eyes met Frodo's friendly blue ones he felt some of his own shyness melting away. He managed a small grin, and received one in return before Frodo let go of his hand and straightened.
"Well, then!" Bilbo said, smiling and clapping Frodo on the back. "Now that the introductions are made, I have something of a proposition for you, Samwise."
Sam looked up, surprised. "Me, sir?"
Bilbo looked toward his nephew and his smile broadened. "Well, see, my Frodo lad isn't too familiar with the land about here," he said, and Frodo grinned and looked down. Sam wondered if he were missing some private joke, but he didn't have the chance to wonder long before Bilbo continued. "If it would be all right with your Gaffer, I thought perhaps you could show him around a bit, let him know the way of things."
Sam's head snapped towards his father, his brown eyes suddenly hopeful.
Hamfast glanced down at his son, dirty and tired, and felt a small twinge of guilt for working the lad so hard on his first day. He'd not complained once, Hamfast recalled, and *had* seemed to be enjoying himself…but he was still a lad, after all. Hamfast smiled.
"Of course my Sam'll show him about," he said, earning grins from all three hobbits. "Can't have him wandering about alone!" He turned to Bilbo. "How about I send him along to get cleaned up a bit, and have his mother pack the two of them a nice bit of Elevenses?"
Bilbo looked to Frodo. "What do you say, lad?" he asked. Frodo grinned and nodded.
"That sounds wonderful. Thank you, Mr. Gamgee."
Hamfast waved his hand. "Ah, think nothin' about it, young master," he said. "I'll just take my Sam here and get him ready, hmm?"
Frodo and Bilbo nodded. "Frodo will meet you back up here in a quarter of an hour, okay lad?" Bilbo said, and Sam nodded vigorously, his shyness gone. "Yes sir!"
Bilbo smiled, and he and Frodo turned and walked back into Bag End.
Hamfast glanced down at his son, who was squirming excitedly, and chuckled. "All right, then, lad, let's go," he said, and they started back down the path.
As soon as they were out of sight of Bag End, Hamfast turned to his son. The lad was fairly brimming with excitement, and Hamfast had a sudden trepidation about the whole ordeal. He paused, and when Sam stopped and looked up at him, Hamfast placed his hands on his son's shoulders.
"Listen, lad," he said sternly, "I want you to be sure and mind you manners with Mr. Frodo today, you hear? He's the master's heir, so you treat him with just as much respect as you would the master. And regardless of what he tol' you, you address him as 'Mr.' No sense in getting too familiar with him—he'll likely be your master someday, and you need to respect that. Understand me?"
Sam, who had gazed wide-eyed at his father during his speech, nodded mutely, somewhat subdued. Hamfast felt a twinge of remorse, but then steadied himself. It wouldn't do no good for little Sam to go getting ideas above his station, he told himself. It was best he learn his place now. He nodded curtly and released his son's shoulders and the pair began walking again.
They soon reached their small hole. Hamfast opened the gate and gave Sam a gentle little push. "Go on, then, lad, and get yerself cleaned up," he said, smiling. "I'll have yer mum fix you up something."
He chuckled again as Sam, downcast no longer, dashed into the hole. "Yes, sir!"
He shook his head, still smiling, and pulled the gate closed behind him.
Ten minutes later, they were on their way back to Bag End, Samwise clutching a large picnic basket filled with his mother's best cakes. He'd cleaned himself up, rinsing away the dirt, sweat and grime from working in the garden, and was now wearing his finest shirt—a white, homespun, button-down cotton one his mother had made for his very own. It was one of the few things he owned that wasn't hand-me-down, and he was immensely proud of it. He'd traded his dirty breeches for a fresh pair and his mother had even made an attempt at running a comb through his wild curls. Now, faintly flushed with excitement and beaming, he again walked with his father through Bag End's gates.
Hamfast patted his son on the shoulder. "Well, lad, you have a good time, and mind yourself," he said. Then, as an afterthought, he added, "Mind the shirt, too—your mother'll have a royal fit if anything were to happen to it, and make no mistake." He smiled, knowing Sam would take care of the shirt without a reminder. Though young, the lad was already quite responsible. Sam nodded, eyes shining eagerly. "Well, off with you, then!" Hamfast said, as he turned to set to work on the hedges again.
Sam grinned and turned back towards Bag End's large green door. Summoning his courage, he walked forward and knocked twice, still feeling a bit hesitant. After a moment, the door swung open, and Frodo stood before him. At the sight of the warm smile on the older hobbit's face, all of Sam's hesitation melted, and he boldly held out his hand.
"Ready, Mr. Frodo?"
Frodo's smile broadened. "Ready, Mr. Samwise," he said, taking the child's hand within his own. And with that, the pair walked out of the white gate and headed down the lane.
* * *