* * *
Sam, despite the warning from his father, was finding it extremely difficult to contain his curiosity.
He glanced up again at the older hobbit walking along side him, one hand holding the basket he'd insisted on taking, the other easily enfolding Sam's own. They'd been walking for a good ten minutes or so, but hardly a word had been spoken between them. While the silence wasn't quite awkward, it did sit heavily between them, and though Sam dearly longed to break it, the talk his Gaffer had given him earlier had made him rather nervous. He was afraid he might unwittingly offend his would-be friend.
Frodo, conscious of the younger hobbit's gaze, glanced down at the round face staring so wonderingly into his own. He smiled slightly, though it was tinged with concern, as Sam blushed and immediately looked away.
"Sam? What is it?"
If possible, Sam turned even redder. "Umm…oh, nothing, Mr. Frodo," he mumbled, keeping his eyes downcast.
Frodo tilted his head. "Sam? I though we'd agreed to dispense with the 'Mr.'"
Sam looked up at him, turmoil plain on his face. He didn't want to disobey his gaffer, who had made it quite clear that formal titles were a necessity, but…how could he blatantly refuse to do what Frodo had told him? Wouldn't that be just as bad?
Frodo stopped walking and turned to face Sam, perplexed at the pensive silence. "What's the matter?"
Sam opened his mouth but couldn't seem to think of anything to say. Finally he settled on, "Nothing…*Frodo*." The last was whispered so hesitantly that Frodo almost didn't hear it.
Smiling again, though still rather troubled at the child's suddenly timid behavior, he turned and began to walk again. Deciding it was time to change the subject, he said, "So where are we going, lad?"
Sam immediately brightened. "I though I could take you down to the creek, if you wish," he replied, his face animated. "There's some great trees down there—I'm not big enough to climb some of them yet, but some of them have branches right down to the ground—and rocks to climb and even a cave!" He suddenly frowned. "Mama says we're not 'lowed to go back there, though. It's dangerous." He nodded wisely, and Frodo had to hide his grin.
"Well, we'd best heed her advice," he replied, keeping his voice at a solemn pitch to match Sam's and doing his best not to chuckle at seeing the lad so somber. "But as for the trees we had some good ones back in Buckland. Maybe between the two of us we can get into some of the bigger ones. Tell me about the creek, then, Sam. Is it good for swimming?"
Sam turned his head quickly, looking positively horrified. "Swimming?" he whispered. "You…you like to swim, sir?" He recalled his Gaffer's words about how Frodo's parents had died, and couldn't believe Frodo still enjoyed such a dangerous pastime. "But…but…I *can't* swim!" His voice was near panic.
Frodo turned, alarmed at Sam's sudden anxiety. "Well, we don't have to, Sam, if you don't want," he said quickly. "I just thought…don't the lads here like the water? In Buckland it's quite popular with some of the younger ones."
Sam stared wide-eyed up at him. "Oh, no, sir, begging your pardon, sir! M…my Gaffer…he says I…I'm not to do it. Says it's not natural for a hobbit!" Sam suddenly bit his lip, realizing he'd as much as called Frodo unnatural. Oh, how angry would his Gaffer be, when he found out…!
But Frodo didn't look offended. He merely smiled slightly. "Well, then, we'd best not be doing anything your Gaffer doesn't approve of," he said, his tone somewhat distant, then was silent again.
Sam felt terrible. The day wasn't going at all the way he'd planned. He was already at odds with Frodo, first for the 'Mr.' and now for this. He swallowed, vowing silently he would keep quiet from now on unless Frodo spoke to him directly.
It wasn't far to the creek, though the tense silence between them made the short walk seem quite long indeed. Finally, however, they did arrive, and Frodo saw with some amusement that it was only perhaps six inches deep at the most. Sam's fears had been rather unfounded, at least concerning this particular stream. He didn't say anything, however. In truth, he was somewhat at a loss. His earlier attempt at making conversation had failed miserably, ending with Sam more or less declaring Frodo unnatural and then growing withdrawn, as though reluctant to speak with him. Frodo knew the slip about the swimming was not something Sam had intended to do; however, intentional or not, he *had* said it. They were not exactly off to the best of starts. Frodo sighed unhappily at the thought; he had been so hoping he and Sam would get on well. The lad reminded him rather of his cousin Merry.
Sam turned quickly at Frodo's sigh, immediately concerned. Misinterpreting the cause, he said hesitantly, "W—we don't have to stay here, Mr. Frodo, if you don't like it. I just…I mean, we can go somewhere else."
Frodo turned to the lad and smiled reassuringly. "Nonsense, Sam!" he said. "This looks perfect. Shall we climb first or do you want to eat?" He decided not to mention that Sam had called him 'Mr. Frodo' again.
Looking slightly relieved, Sam pondered.
"Maybe we'd best climb first," he said after a moment. "I'm not sure as I could get up into the trees after I eat, if you follow me."
Frodo laughed, and set the basket down. "Then climb we shall!" he declared. "Come, Sam, let's find a tree that looks like it could use a couple hobbit-lads in it."
~ ~ ~
Two hours later, Frodo sat back on the cool grass with a sigh. "I must say, Sam, your mother certainly makes a wonderful seedcake," he said, rubbing a hand over his stomach.
Sam grinned. "Aye, she does at that, thank'ee Mr. Frodo. Now you see as why I didn't want to climb after we'd eaten them."
Frodo chuckled, nodding in agreement. Though the amount of food in the basket hadn't looked like much, he felt as full now as he would after a feast at Brandy Hall. "Right you are, Master Samwise. I shall forever heed your advice in matters of this nature."
Sam giggled at being addressed as 'master,' watching as Frodo massage his stomach gingerly. "Takes you a bit by surprise, don't it?" he said. He himself had known well enough when to stop, but Frodo had plowed through the cakes as though he hadn't eaten a decent meal in weeks. Sam wouldn't have been surprised if that was true; the older hobbit certainly looked like he'd needed a good feeding. His grin widened as Frodo winced slightly and stretched. "Aye, lad, that it does. I feel I could use a nap now." With that, he stretched himself out under the spreading oak they sat beneath, crossing his ankles in front of him and folding his arms behind his head.
Sam tilted his head, considering. After their initial awkwardness, they'd both begun to loosen up a little, rather a necessity while climbing some of the more difficult trees. Frodo had seemed genuinely interested in anything Sam told him, and Sam found himself liking the strange Bucklander more and more. He was used to his brothers treating him as the baby, disregarding most of what he said, but Frodo wasn't like that. He'd admitted to Sam that most of his cousins he was so fond of were about Sam's age, and that because of his size he usually found himself more comfortable around younger children. Sam had been deeply touched, not only because of what Frodo had said but because he'd felt he could confide in Sam. He'd even managed to stop calling him 'Mr.' Frodo. He wasn't sure what his Gaffer would say, but Sam was now nearly convinced he and Frodo could be friends, regardless of differences in age or class. He took a deep breath and decided to try his luck.
Scooting close until he was right beside the drowsing Bucklander, he asked hesitantly, "Do…do you think you could tell me a story, Frodo?"
Frodo opened his eyes and smiled at the young hobbit gazing hopefully down at him. Sitting up and settling back against the tree, he pulled Sam to lean against his arm. "Of course, Sam. What would you like to hear about?"
"Do you know something with Elves, sir? Mr. Bilbo tells me about them sometimes. Someday," he said decisively "someday I'd like to meet one. Do you think I will, Frodo?"
Frodo laughed, the musical sound drifting up into the trees. "Perhaps you will, Sam! Now, a story of Elves…"
The two settled back, and soon the sound of Frodo's voice drifted into the lazy afternoon sunshine, relating stories of the Lady Varda, and Eärendil and the Silmarils. After a while, he noticed his audience had drifted off, and smiling, tucked the lad a bit more snugly against his side. Then he leaned his head back and closed his eyes, a smile playing on his lips. Soon he, too, was fast asleep.
* * *