Hamfast Gamgee was so intent upon his work he didn't notice the two lads coming up the hill until they were nearly to Bag End's gate.  Glancing up sharply at the sound of laughter, he saw Samwise and the young Mr. Frodo ambling lazily up the hill, hand in hand.  The Master was carrying the basket, much to Hamfast's chagrin, while Sam shuffled along at his side, grinning at something Frodo told him. 

Hamfast stood from where he had been crouching next to the hedges and watched as the pair made their slow but steady approach. 

"Oy!  Samwise!" he called when they were in range.  "Come along then, lad, what do you think you're doin', lettin' Master Frodo carry that basket?"

Both heads snapped up at the Gaffer's voice.  Frodo's face broke into a small smile at the Gaffer's words, thinking them in jest, but Sam cringed a little.

"Um…sorry, sir," Sam mumbled to Frodo, snatching the basket away before Frodo could protest.  "Sorry, Da!" he called.

Hamfast frowned, and Sam shrunk back a little further.  "Come along, then, lad," he said, his voice not quite harsh but still very stern.

Sam nodded.  "Yes sir!"  Then, turning towards the older hobbit next to him, said, "Bye, Frodo."

Frodo's smile had faded as he watched the exchange between father and son, but at Samwise's words it returned.  "Bye, Sam," he said.  "I'll see you tomorrow."

Sam grinned and nodded happily, his sandy-blond curls bouncing at the enthusiastic movement.  Then he turned and hurried to his father's side as Frodo made his way into the hole.

Sam's grin, however, dropped back off his face when he saw his father's face. 

Hamfast Gamgee was a stern hobbit, and it was easy to arouse his displeasure; however, he was not a brash man, and anger rarely overcame him.  There were precious few times in his short life that Sam had seen his father truly furious. 

Once, his brother Hal had fallen from one of the trees in Farmer Maggot's orchard while thieving his apples; the lad had broken not only his wrist but a good portion of the farmer's fence as well.  Farmer Maggot had had to bring him home in his cart, and it was only after much apologizing, bowing, and promises to pay for the stolen apples and mend the broken fence that Hamfast allowed the overwhelmed hobbit to leave.  Sam, who had only been three at the time, could still recall the way his father's eyes glinted like cold steel, the way his fists trembled from suppressed rage, the way his lips pressed together until they were nearly white.  It had frightened him badly, and he'd vowed to do whatever was necessary to avoid that cold fury being directed at him.

But now it was back, and Sam for the life of him couldn't say what had brought it on.

"Sam," Hamfast gritted, without even looking at his son, "go stand outside the gate and wait for me.  I'm going to say good day to Mr. Bilbo."  With that he turned on his heels and walked towards smial.

Sam stood stunned for a moment, but once his wits had recovered some he hurried to comply.  The last thing he needed was his father thinking he was being disobedient as well.

When Hamfast raised his fist to knock on the door, he was surprised to see it trembling.  Clenching his fingers tightly behind his back, he did his best to look calm when Bilbo opened the door.

"Ah, Hamfast!  And what can I do for…?" Bilbo's jovial speech faded as he took in the hobbit before him.  "Hamfast?  Is there something wrong?"

Ham realized he still wore his tight-lipped, grim expression, and he immediately forced a smile onto his face.  "Nay, nothin' at all, master, I was just wishin' to see if you'd be needin' anything else before I and Sam-lad head home," he said, the cheer in his voice sounding strained even to him. 

Bilbo shook his hand, the smile returning, though hesitantly.  "No, no, Hamfast, that's quite all right," he said.  He turned and looked around for a moment, then asked, "Where's Samwise?"

Hamfast nodded curtly towards the path.  "He's waiting by the gate."

Bilbo smiled.  "Thank you for sparing the lad today," he said.  "I'm sure Frodo appreciated having someone to talk to.  I understand there's quite the age difference between them, so tell little Sam I said thanks as well for bein' so willin' to show my lad around."  He turned and glanced into the hole, then said, "When I was at the market today I ran into the old Boffins, and they said their lads would be more'n happy to meet with Frodo.  They're coming in the morning to pick him up."  He smiled at his gardener.  "I think he'll fit in fine, once he gets to know the way of the place," he said, seemingly as much to convince himself as anything.

Hamfast smiled, and it was genuine this time.  "Nay, not to worry, Master Bilbo," he said.  "The lad'll do fine.  They always adjust quickly, at his age…"

Bilbo grinned and nodded gratefully.  "Aye, they do at that," he murmured, then clapped Hamfast on the shoulder.  "Well, then, good day to you, Master Gamgee."

Hamfast bowed politely. "Good day to you, Master."

~          ~          ~

Sam was so nervous he'd worked himself into quite a state by the time his father returned.  They began walking silently for a bit, and the tension in the air between them made Sam want to cry. 

'Oh, what did I do, what did I do?' he wondered miserably.

Hamfast glanced down at his son, all trembling and wide-eyed as he walked along side his father, and felt a sharp twinge of remorse.

"Come, then, Sam-lad, it's naught to get so worked up about, then," he said softly.

Sam's head snapped around, and he gazed at his father with large, wet eyes.

"But…Da, what is it?  What did I do?"

Hamfast sighed, but was unable to arouse his previous anger.  "Sam-lad…I told you to call him "Mr.", didn't I?"

Sam gasped.  Was *that* what all this was about?  "Oh!  Umm..y—yes, sir, you surely did, but I…he…"

Hamfast tilted his head.  "What, then, lad?  Out with it, now."

Sam gazed pleadingly up at his father.  "Oh, Dad, he told me not to!  I did, I really did, but he said…he said he'd rather I didn't, and Da, how could I obey him and obey you at the same time?"

He was so distressed Hamfast couldn't help but reach out and embrace him.

"There, then, lad," he said as the boy wept.  "We'll figure this out, don't worry."

Sam nodded miserably. 

Deciding a change of subject was at hand, Ham said, "So did you lads have a good time?"

Sam brightened instantly.  "Oh, yes, Da!  He's wonderful, he really is!  And he's not unnatural, it's just the swimmin', but he tells some great stories and he likes our seedcakes and his cousins are my age and the other lads are too big anyway, so he feels more happy around me anyhow, he told me so!"

Hamfast nodded slowly, a bit bewildered at the rather incoherent reply but happy for his son nonetheless. 

"Well…that's good then, isn't it lad?" he said.  "I'm glad you've enjoyed yourselves."

Sam nodded happily.  "Me'n him, we're gonna be best friends someday," he said.

Hamfast stopped dead in his tracks, his previous good cheer draining instantly.

Sam turned around and gazed up at his father, startled and then fearful as the color first drained from his cheeks then returned with full force.

"What…what did you say?" Hamfast whispered.

Sam shrunk back.  "I…I said me'n him…were…gonna be best friends," he whispered, wondering what he'd done this time.

Hamfast could hardly control his trembling.  Oh, this was not going to be easy, he thought.  The poor lad was still so young…how could Ham make him understand?  Station has no place in the minds and hearts of youth, but it weren't his proper place to be makin' such claims about the Master's heir…

"D…Da?"  Sam whispered.

Hamfast looked with pity down on his youngest.  "Come along then, Sam-lad…we'd best be getting home."

He would say no more.

~          ~          ~

Later that evening, after an excited Sam had told his mother and siblings all he'd done with Mr. Frodo (he'd gone back to calling him that, knowing he'd have to at least in front of his Da), Hamfast sat in the kitchen smoking his pipe as Bell began to clear away the dinner dishes.  The other children had gone 'round to play; all except Sam, who was sitting in the back in his own little flower garden (a small plot of land they'd let him have at his request, certain it would be no good for growing anything else—the lad had shown marvelous skill in that he'd been able to nurse it back to life).

Ham fingered his pipe, made of beautifully carved mahogany and kept meticulously polished, lost in his thoughts. 

"I don't know, Ham," Bell's voice suddenly broke through his brooding.  "I don't like this.  Not one bit.  Look at him!" 

She indicated the window, through which a very content Samwise could be seen happily pulling up weeds and tending to the new spring shoots of his latest planting.

Hamfast tilted his head and waited for her to continue.

"I mean," she said after a moment, "he looks so…well, happy!  And I'd be happy for him, if I weren't so sure…" she hesitated.

"Sure of what, Bell?" Hamfast prompted gently.

She sighed, dropping her hands into the dishwater and gazing into the suds as if they contained all the answers.

"How many lads of Mr. Frodo's age and status, well-mannered though they may be, are really going to want to befriend a lad like our Sam?" she whispered, tears starting in her eyes.  "He's a wonderful child, Hamfast, don't misunderstand me…but Ham…he's still a child, and he's *our* child." She spun around and looked at him.  "And you know as well as I do we're not of the class to let our son befriend the master's heir."

Hamfast sighed, approaching his wife and placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.  She leaned against him, burying her face at his collarbone.  "He looks so happy," she whispered.  "I just don't want to see his heart broken when he realizes…I mean to say, when Mr. Frodo gets to know some of the other well-to-do lads his own age, will he really want to spend time with our Sam?"

Hamfast sighed.  It had been precisely what he'd been worried about, ever since Sam's brash declaration on the walk home that evening.  "I know, lass," he said.  "He's got to be made to understand…and best tonight, before this goes too far."

She nodded, her shoulders shaking as tears streamed down her face.

"There, now, lass," he said, wrapping his other arm around her and holding her tightly.  "He must understand…'twould be kinder to make him see now, than to let him go on believing…"

She nodded, and with a last sniff pulled away from her husband's embrace and turned back to the dishes.

"Go, then," she whispered.  "Make him understand."

~          ~          ~

Sam was humming lightly when Hamfast entered the garden.  The lad looked up as he heard his father approaching, and gave him a large grin. "Hi Da!" he said.  Hamfast smiled back, though it felt forced even to him, and knelt next to his son.

"And how's the garden then, Sam-lad?" he said.  "Those snap-dragons look like they're doing well."

"Oh, yes sir," he said.  "I'm doin' jus' like you tol' me, keepin' everything clear of the weeds and such."

Hamfast nodded, ruffling the boys curls.  "You're doin' right well, then," he said, gazing about the lush patch of colorful blossoms. 

Sam grinned again.  "I'm clearin' everything up," he said.  "Mr. Frodo said he'd come over tomorrow morning and see my flowers, so I want 'em to be lookin' real nice an' everything."

Hamfast sighed.  It seemed there would be no avoiding this.

"Sam-lad…that's why I've come to talk to you," he said.  Sam looked up at him, worried at his father's tone. 

"Yes, Da?"  He asked, his voice growing a bit hesitant.  "What is it?"

Hamfast sighed.  Oh, this was not going to be easy.

"You see, lad," he began, "Mr. Frodo's the master's heir now.  Or leastways he will be before long, I'm sure.  And…well, once he gets to know the ways of the place a bit better…he's gonna want to be around lads and lasses his own age and standing, see?"

Sam frowned.  "I…I don't understand," he said softly.

Hamfast sighed again.  "Lad…folk like you and me, we…well, we're not as well off as Master Bilbo or Mr. Frodo," he said.  "It's called class, you see?  We, well, the likes of us work for the likes of them, do you see?"

Sam tilted his head.  "Like you work in Mr. Bilbo's garden?"

Hamfast nodded.  "Exactly.  So you see…it isn't right for gentlehobbits such as Mr. Frodo to be…well, to be spending too much time with…"  Hamfast broke off.  Damn it, why was this so hard?  Sam was gazing up at him, a question in his innocent brown eyes.  Why couldn't he see?  Why couldn't he understand it weren't their place to be callin' the likes of Mr. Frodo and Mr. Bilbo anything but their masters?

"Samwise," he said, taking both his son's hands in his, "we're gardeners.  Gardeners, my boy.  We're not rich or upstanding or learned like the masters.  And while it was fine for you to show Mr. Frodo around today, it…it ain't proper to be assuming he'll be your friend."

Sam gulped, his eyes abruptly filling.  "But…but we…he…"

Hamfast shook his head.  "I know, lad," he said.  "It's hard.  But believe me, it's best to accept that now."

Sam shook his head.  "But he said he'd like to be my friend!" he said.  "He's gonna come over tomorrow mornin'--!"

"Nay, lad, he isn't," Hamfast said, cutting him off.  "Mr. Bilbo told me the Boffin lads were going to come over in the morning to see him; he'll be off with them."

Sam's eyes, if possible, went even rounder, and his chin began to tremble.  "But…but…!"

Hamfast shook his head, growing impatient.  "Look, lad, that's the way of things.  I'm sorry you had to learn at such a young age, but there it is.  Mr. Frodo's a fine lad, and I'm certain he'll be a wonderful master, but Sam, you can't go getting ideas above your station, wishin' for it to be any more'n that."

With that he stood and brushed off his pant legs.  "That's all there is to it," he whispered, and turned quickly to walk towards the smial, though he was not quick enough to avoid hearing the sounds of Sam's pitiful sobs.

He closed the door to the smial behind him and leaned against the frame heavily, placing a trembling hand over his brow.  Bell approached him from behind and wrapped her arms about his waist, and he leaned against her gratefully. 

"'Twas the right thing to do," she whispered.  "Truly, it was.  Best to nip this thing in the bud, as you're always saying…"

He nodded.  "Aye, lass, right again," he said.  "But that doesn't make it any easier."

As they stood listening to Sam's muffled sobs, Bell shook her head.  "No," she whispered.  "It doesn't.  It doesn't make it any easier at all."