Aemilia Rose: Thanks for all your wonderful comments! I'd love to be your friend! : ) And congrats on completing your fic; it was a lovely ending.
Jaid Skywalker: A balance? Wow, thank you, I'm glad of that!
Miss B: Heh heh, Sam does have a cute side. We certainly don't see him streaking about (unless he's running from orcs) in LOTR, more's the pity.
Galorin: Thanks! Your comments on my writing were very encouraging. I hope you enjoy this chapter as well.
Farmer Cotton looked disconsolately at the 'closed' sign hung upon the front window shutters.
"Guess the grocer ain't here, kids. We'll have to stay here till the rain stops." He seated himself comfortably in a corner and reached into his pouch to pull out his pipe. Rosie snuggled into his lap and giggled as the tendrils of smoke curled about her. The boys ran about best they could in so limited an area, making a general ruckus. Suddenly, all four froze as a hobbit lady ran in, in her arms a small hobbit boy. Close behind her came another, splashing in the puddles as he ran and looking back now and then in regret at a stick spiralling away in the distance.
"Mrs. Gamgee." Farmer Cotton nodded at her peacefully from his cosy nook, as if sitting in front of the grocers on a rainy day with four irrepressible boys darting about in front of him was an everyday occurrence.
"Farmer Cotton. What a pleasant surprise!" replied Mrs. Gamgee in turn, the two displaying the famously unflappable manner of hobbits. The only difference between the scene and one of a friendly neighborhood visit was the puffing Gardener Gamgee, who drew level with his wife and flopped, exhausted, on the parapet. Mrs. Gamgee frowned and glanced apologetically at Cotton.
Little Sam wiggled impatiently, eager to release himself from the embarrassing confines of his mother's arms. He was, after all, soon to be five years old. Besides, there were other hobbit children about; it would never do for them to see him being carried. His self-respect was at stake! "Mama, let me down!" he cried as a final resort, taking care that his plea maintained a certain degree of dignity.
As he was steadily lowered, the other boys started taking notice of him and circled about with the air of young vultures eyeing their prey. Immune to their voraciousness, Sam inspected them with rivaling intensity. Nibs seemed to be around his age, while his brothers were slightly older. He held his own against the boys, staking his ground with boyish pride. Then Tom, the oldest of the troop, stepped forward solemnly. He strode over to Sam, who cowered slightly at the advances of this tall figure. Tom stretched out a hand and tapped Sam on the shoulder.
"Tag, you're it!" He shouted and fled gleefully, leaving a dumbfounded Sam staring after him. The other boys took their cue and started cavorting about, shrieking wildly. Dimly aware that he had been somewhat formally initiated, Sam took a deep breath. :I can do this: Then he resolutely gave chase.
Rosie watched as watched as Sam yelled and screamed with her brothers. His arms flailing about, he careened from one end of the shopfront to the other, his merriment contagious. The other boys would bait him by lingering deliberately, before slipping away as he caught up to them. His face looked familiar, yet she could not place when and how she came to meet him. Absorbed in her thoughts, she unconsciously lifted her thumb to her mouth and began sucking, reverting to a habit broken only two months ago.
"Rosie, stop that at once!" Farmer Cotton slapped the offending digit. Rosie hastily retracted her thumb, ashamed to be caught indulging in such childishness. Farmer Cotton sighed and looked up at the Gamgees.
"She's been doing it ever since she was a baby. Me and the missus have tried to stop her, but these children are curious creatures and there's no accountin' for what they'll do." Mrs. Gamgee smiled sympathetically.
"My Sam here's the same. And it's no help that Hamfast here told him that soil is the delicious richness of the earth, the lad's always trying to taste his muddy fingers." She glared at her offending partner, who happened to be staring conveniently in the opposite direction.
"It was not meant to be taken literally, like." Hamfast muttered under his breath when his wife had resumed her chatter.
"Sam's still sucking his thumb, in fact!" announced Mrs. Gamgee enthusiastically, warming to the subject. She reached out and grabbed the boy, who had overheard the unfortunate truth and was in the process of sidling past inconspicuously.
"Isn't that right, Sam?" She chirped, oblivious to her son's desperate attempts to regain his freedom. Realising that all hopes were futile, Sam stopped kicking and took stock of the situation. The other boys thankfully showed no interest in the conversation or the consequent abduction of their playmate. As for his mother….Sam listened gloomily as certain skeletons came tumbling pell-mell out of his closet, courtesy of his dear mum. He looked at the deeply interested face of Farmer Cotton and winced inwardly. This subject would be discussed for some time.
His gaze shifted to the hobbit-child on Cotton's lap. She seemed to be seething with the same air of frustration he felt himself. Interesting. Sam tuned in wholly to the exchange of words between the two adults, attention caught by the numerous anecdotes Farmer Cotton regaled his mother with. Most of them seemed largely humiliating to the girl and Sam couldn't resist a smirk as he cast another glance at her. Seated primly with dress in order and ringlets neatly parted, she looked the picture of perfection. It was nice to know she had faults too.
"Then my Rosie gal here…" Farmer Cotton was off yet again. Sam's ears perked at the mention of the name. :Rosie? Short for rose?: He thought. :That's a pretty flower.: Its thorns were something awful, though. He looked sourly at his forefinger, in which one especially large and painful thorn had once been embedded. He scrutinized Rosie closely.
Rosie felt the strange boy's gaze on her. Again. Curiosity piqued, she lifted her head to meet his eyes and sent an innocent, wondering smile his way.
Sam was bowled over by the impact of the smile, taken aback by the genuine warmth that shone through. Even in the dark of the storm, he was captivated by the way her face lighted up, enchanted by the twinkle in her eye. He smiled back, tentatively. :She seems nice: he mused. :Maybe we can be friends.: Then he looked distastefully at her pink dress. :She looks…girly, though. Ewww:
Distracted by his thoughts, a crash of thunder produced a startled squeal from Sam. He looked around, embarrassed. It didn't seem as if anyone had noticed. Then he heard a muffled giggle and swung around in time to catch Rosie clamp her hand over her mouth, eyes dancing with mirth. :Oh no.: He averted his gaze from hers.
