Mistress-Samwise: One day early update. Let me just get this down: School is… worse than I thought. The 'rents don't really know yet, and if it's as bad as I think it is, my "death" will be swift and commanding… Most possibly resulting in an expulsion from any non-school related computer work. That might mean no word from me for a while. But in the end, the whole mess would be all my fault. I'm such a frickin' retard.
School's evil… Biology's evil… The fundamentals of English are evil… Homework's evil… Biology's evil… Algebra's only annoying. It seems the only thing I know how to do is art and trumpet-playing. I can write (I'm sure you know that), but I can't tell you how you write. I just do it. None of that stupid tedious grammar rules or all that crud. But bio's the work of the devil. There is no greater evil, for I'm sure Sauron could have destroyed Middle-earth in half the time by spreading periodic tables and the scientific method all over the land.
But enough about me! There weren't any questions last chapter, so I'll cut to the chase. This chapter was fun yet hard to write, especially that one part when he's in the garden. You'll know what I mean. The best thing to do is to NOT DWELL ON IT TOO MUCH! Please don't come bawling to me about it! I'll scream in return. Another thing was the song: I practically made that up on the spot. Also, I can't stop you from ranting in your reviews, but I'd like it if you didn't yell at me. Like I said before, I'll respond in kind.
Well… *crosses fingers* Here's hoping. Maybe I'll just be maimed…
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It was late afternoon when Frodo and Bilbo rolled up to Hobbiton in their horse cart. Frodo occasionally glanced over to see other hobbits staring back. Sinking into his seat, he nervously turned to his cousin.
"Bilbo…" Frodo said, not trying to be too loud. "They're staring at me."
"You'll get used to it, my lad," Bilbo replied, smiling. "They don't mean any harm. They just find you… a little out of place."
Frodo sighed and folded his arms across his chest.
Not even a day and I'm already "out of place"…
Bilbo stopped the cart outside a shop.
"I'll just be a moment. There are a few things I still have to get for the party. You can wait here if you wish."
Frodo made no sign of disagreement. Bilbo stepped out of the cart and disappeared into the shop. The busy ambience of the market made time seem slower. A minute passed by, heavily encumbered by the mind-numbing ennui. Frodo let out a groan of boredom.
"Ugg…"
Idly smoothing his hair behind his ears, Frodo suddenly froze as felt a pair of eyes land on him. He slowly glanced over the side of the cart. Below was a small hobbitchild clinging to her mother's hand, gaping at Frodo with eyes the size of saucers, filled with curious amazement. The hobbitlad stared back, his lips slightly curled back in an anxious smile. This only caused the child to lean in closer, silent with fascination and awe. Her mother tugged at her arm, but the hobbitlass didn't notice.
"Come on, honey," the child's mother stated. She looked over to see her daughter gawking at a boy in a cart, and couldn't help slipping a gaze at him before dislodging her child. "Don't stare."
The little girl allowed then herself to be dragged away by her mother, but her eyes were still fixed on Frodo. She gave him an enthusiastic wave good-bye before vanishing into the crowds. Frodo groaned and hid his face in his hands.
"Am I really that strange-looking?" he said into his palms. Often he was mistaken for an elf because of his most un-hobbitish looks; his deep brown hair, pale blue eyes and equally pallid complexion made him seem of a fairer race. His form was so full of grace and elegance that a few times before he was thought to be a hobbitlass. Of course, he utterly loathed the fact that he looked nothing like a regular hobbit, the fact that he was almost always immediately out of place wherever he went merely because of his appearance.
Thankfully, Bilbo returned to the cart, a brown paper bundle under his arm. With a whip of the reigns, he and Frodo were off to Bag End. As was the ritual every year, the party tents were being raised in preparation of Bilbo's party. All of it was just another addition to the many colors that lined Bag Shot Row. Frodo had never seen anything like it in his life; flowers cascaded color upon color from the well-tended gardens, bright smial doors stood out cheerfully, their brass doorknobs gleaming in the sun. Bag End stood as a testament to all this by itself. Frodo had only been in it a few precious times, but it was still an unfamiliar wonder to him.
"Welcome to your new home, Frodo," Bilbo said while slowing the cart to a stop. Before stepping off, Frodo unloaded one of the trunks out of the back and dragged it to the front door.
"Ugg!" he grunted. Bilbo let out a sigh.
"Now, really… You can't even lift a trunk! You're going to have to work on that. No staying inside all day while you're here."
Frodo grumbled, straining to pull the chest over the uneven cobblestone.
"Use your legs!" Bilbo added.
"I… Ugg… Am… Ugg!"
Bilbo made another pathetic sound before unlocking the round green door.
"You're lucky your room's right down the hall. If I knew you were this weak, I would have put it at the other end of the house."
"Bleeehhh."
"It's right there, the third door to the left," Bilbo pointed down the corridor. "Feel free to look around the place while I sort out party matters. Knowing you, it's probably best if you just stay out of he way."
Frodo was fed up with his cousin's berating comments, and continued to pull the chest down the hallway. Once he got to his new room, he left the trunk in the middle of the floor and swiftly threw himself onto the bed.
"At least the beds are nice…" he muttered while wriggling the crick out of his back. Before he knew it, he was fast asleep, catching up on what he lost the previous night. Besides reading, sleeping would be the only thing he would want to do while being exiled from the party. Even though he had moved here, he wasn't necessarily entitled to take part in the celebration on account of what he did to get himself here.
Eventually he awoke to find himself facing the opposite direction, his head at the foot of the bed. The bed sheet was tangled around his waist and leg, and the pillow was on the floor.
"Wah…?" he mumbled groggily while stretching his aching back. "How'd that happen?"
He miserably crawled out of bed and then sought out his trunk, but not before tripping over it first. Rather than spouting out any unnecessary exclamations, he silently massaged his foot and grumbled while unlatching the case. He stuck his arm into the clothing and pulled out a random shirt.
"Good enough."
It took him a while to button his shirt correctly. After that, he threw on a pair of knickers and floated out into the hallway. The morning sunlight spilled in from the windows, casting pools of gold onto the floorboards. Looking out past one of the windowpanes, he saw the aftermath of last night's party. There was a small clean-up crew scuffling about. Frodo stood there for a moment, his head ticking away at data he was observing. Eventually he came to the conclusion that he would not like to help clean and that if he hid himself somewhere, he wouldn't have to. So he drifted around Bag End, looking for a sufficient room to hide in. He picked out a study, happy to see its bookshelves overflowing with literature. Closing the door behind himself, he cracked his knuckles and set to work. There was a lot to read.
Late afternoon arrived faster than he expected, and so had his always annoying urge to eat. He folded up his book, tucked it under his arm, and strolled out into the kitchen. There Bilbo was busy himself with afternoon tea, setting out small pastries onto the table.
"There you are," Bilbo said, surprised. "I was just about ready to find you. Just where were you all this time?"
"Around," Frodo replied after taking a bite out of a scone. "I just wanted to get a little something to eat and I'll go back to my room."
"Oh, no you don't!" Bilbo exclaimed, catching the hobbitlad before he could step away. "You really need to get outside for a change. Go on! Move!"
Bilbo began pushing Frodo towards the door. Frodo looked over his shoulder in slight confusion.
"Bilbo…? Bilbo…? What are you doing?"
"Trying to get you out of here!" Bilbo stated, reaching over for the doorknob and getting it open with his fingertips. He then strained to push the reluctant hobbitlad past the doorframe.
"Come on, Bilbo! Do you- Is this really necessary?"
"Yes! Now… Get… Out!"
Bilbo gave Frodo one last push and propelled him out of the door. He then swiftly shut it before Frodo could turn around. Then there was a click sound signaling that Frodo had indeed been locked out. Immediately reading each other's minds, both took off for the back door, but Bilbo arrived first and locked it, too.
"Ah hah!" Bilbo jeered.
"Bilbo!" Frodo growled, pulling on the doorknob. "Come… On!"
Suddenly, the door flew open and Bilbo stepped out to grab the book from under Frodo's arm.
"And no reading, either!" Bilbo then darted back in, locking the door behind him. Frodo growled furiously and struggled with the knob in vain.
"The only thing you do more than reading is yelling and complaining!" Bilbo said from behind the shut door. "You need to do something else for once!"
"It's not like you do anything yourself!" Frodo retorted.
"That's because I'm a withered, old hobbit and you're not! Now… Go!"
Frodo gave up, finding re-entrance impossible. He was stuck outside with nothing to do. Sheer torture.
For a while he wandered aimlessly around the gardens, once in a while stopping to stare blankly at something. If he was in a better mood, he would have noticed how spectacular it all looked; meticulously bred flowers at full-bloom, lush green vegetables, carefully trimmed hedges. Bilbo had been lucky enough to have a one Hamfast Gamgee always attending to his gardens, a member of a family prestigious for their outstanding garden work.
The Gamgees lived on Bag Shot Row and were a fairly large family. Although they made considerably less than some, they were thankful for what they did get and for Bilbo's wonderful hospitality. Humble, they were, in their ways and in their speech. Bilbo had many failed attempts to get Hamfast to drop the ever-present "Mister Bilbo" or "sir" in his statements, but it was to no avail. The Gamgees knew their place was below any Baggins'; it was "not proper" to think otherwise. "Never forget your place, lads," Hamfast would tell his sons. "Mister Bilbo is helping us put our food on the table, but don't go thinkin' you're entitled to much anything more. Keep your hands in the earth, but don't let your head stay in the clouds." The Gamgees were the servants, and Bilbo was their master. Simple as that.
Frodo sat down on a bench beside a flowerbed. Reclining back, his eyes wandered around the garden. A bee lazily flitted from flower to flower and buzzed off into the bushes. Blowing the curls from his forehead, the sudden breeze rushed in, cool and refreshing. He closed his eyes and basked as the wind caressed his face, listening to the leaves rustle in the trees. He fell into a deep, meditative trance as he pricked his ears at a soft, singing sound. Eventually, he could hear words as the song became clearer.
"Even though the sun may set
Behind the dark blue sky
There is still light
'Least in my eyes
For love's light ne'er dies
*uggh!* Please don't leave me
Before the sun
Comes risin' *ehh!* o'er east
Uhh… Umm…*oh, come on!*
I'll lose my light
*grr…*
I'll *ungh!* lose my love
So stay with *argh* me
And the stars above- Ow!"
Frodo's eyes shot open at the last exclamation. The singing continued, interrupted by occasional grunt or forgotten verse. Slowly, Frodo stood up, gradually creeping across the lawn as he felt himself being drawn towards the voice. He wandered through the well-trimmed hedges, listening carefully to the song as he got closer. Soon he found himself standing in front of the singer on the opposite side of the hedge. He tried to peer in through the thick foliage but his gaze could not meet the other side, so he drifted over to the end of the privet. Instead of turning around the corner, he stopped, his eyes suddenly flitting to the crown of the hedge. Shaking his head briskly, he snapped his eyes forward, just to throw them at the hedge top again.
What the…?
Bit by bit, he slid his gaze from his side frontward, and stopped them halfway. He felt the hurried flutter of his heart in his chest as he brought his gaze to a halt upon something in his peripheral vision. Through only the corner of his eye, he could make out a form, blurred and out of focus, rising from behind the other side of the hedge. It was painfully white, as the sun was hitting it directly, and yet it seemed to gleam with a different kind of light. In the background, he could still hear the singing, and random grumbles of frustration.
"Grr! Why… Won't… You… Come… Out?"
The white form bobbed up and down like a flag flapping in the wind, sending off fluffy feathers in all directions. Frodo grew nervous with confusion.
A bird…? But why I can't I see it?
Suddenly, an exclamation broke the anxious reverie and the form disappeared in a puff of feathers.
"Ouch!"
The shimmering feathers drifted about until they dissolved into thin air. Frodo was paralyzed in shocked disbelief.
What the hell…?
He cautiously peered around the corner of the tall bushes. Kneeling upon the ground in front of a weedy flower patch was a small hobbitlad, his curly hair in a tousled, ginger mess. He was pulling with all his might on a nasty-looking weed, with no less than his bare hands. Frodo opened his mouth to say something, but couldn't quite get anything out at first.
"Uh… Excuse me…" Frodo said softly as the hobbitlad looked over at him. "Did you happen to see a… a white bird that… exploded?" Frodo paused, just realizing how unbelievable his statement was. The boy stared at him for a moment, half with incredulity, half with fascination. He then suddenly snapped to his feet, briskly brushing his hands on his obviously oversized tunic.
"I-I'm sorry, sir," he stammered, lowering his eyes in embarrassment. "I-I didn't know you were there. I apologize if my singin' b-bothered you, sir."
Frodo furrowed his eyebrows in confusion as the boy bowed low, like he was obligated to do so.
"There's no need to apologize," Frodo stated. "It's just that I saw… something… and I thought that maybe you did, too."
"Pardon me, sir," the hobbitlad murmured quietly. "I'm afraid I don't quite understand what you're sayin', sir."
Frodo thought for a moment.
"I guess I don't get it any more than you do, either," Frodo replied, scratching his head. "Sorry."
The boy's shining brown eyes widened at the previous remark.
"Oh, no, no, no! There's no need for that, sir! P-Please!" He then started a long, rambling explanation while he fiddled nervously with the trim of his tunic. "I'm terribly sorry for disturbin' you while you were trying to take a stroll. It's just that I always sing when I'm pullin' weeds, but me Gaffer always tells me to be quite to Mister Bilbo can concentrate on his work and that I should only really sing a song when I know all the words. It's a silly one, I know, and I really should try to concentrate on my work more than my singing—"
"What was the name of that song?" Frodo interrupted. "It was beautiful."
"I-I don't rightly know," the small hobbitlad replied, blushing to his ear tips. "I learned it from my sisters a-and I thought it sounded nice, that's all." He anxiously wiped his hands on his tunic again, making sure that they were clean. Frodo frowned.
"What's your name?" he asked, kneeing down to meet the boy eye-level. "How old are you?" The boy gave a quick flinch of surprise.
"S-Samwise Gamgee, sir," he stuttered, his face turning an even deeper shade of red. "I-I'm eight years old."
"I'm Frodo Baggins," the older hobbitlad stated, grinning widely as he held his hand out. "Nice to meet you, Samwise."
Samwise stared at Frodo's hand with huge eyes, frozen. Quickly realizing what to do, he jumped like a frightened cat and swiftly returned Frodo's gesture.
"Hello, Mister F-Frodo, sir. And, please, just call me S-Sam." He bowed low. "You're the Buckland lad, aren't you, Mister Frodo?"
"Yes, I just moved here yesterday," Frodo answered, nodding his head. "Why are you out here pulling weeds?"
"It's my job, sir," Sam replied. "Actually, it will be my job… Me Gaffer trains me so later I can work for Mister Bilbo. I'm not right ready enough to tend the flowerbeds, so I help by pullin' weeds. But in a few years I can learn how to grow beautiful flowers like me Gaffer does." He then proceeded to try another attempt on the weed, managing to pull a few of the roots up. Frodo grinned at this spectacle.
"Wicked little buggers, aren't they?"
Sam gulped and nodded his head timidly in agreement and said nothing. Frodo laughed and patted him on the back.
"I can get us some tea if you like—"
"No!" Sam cried suddenly, jerking himself up as if he'd been sitting on hot coals. "I mean… No thank you, Mister Frodo! You needn't be doin' that, sir. I-It's really kind you, but I don't need nothin' right now—"
"I insist upon it, my dear lad," Frodo smiled, now rather amused by this boy's outrageous behavior. "Perhaps I can get Bilbo to let us have some honeycakes."
Sam's eyes widened at the mention of honeycakes, but he quickly shook his head in refusal. Frodo stared furtively at him.
"Not even one little honeycake?"
Sam thought.
"Well…"
"I'll take that as a 'yes'," Frodo said, standing up again. "Come on."
Sam mumbled an immediate "Yes, sir" before joining Frodo down the garden path. Frodo glanced about the passing flowerbeds and trees.
"Nice work," he commented. "Did your father really do all of this?"
Sam nodded his head.
"With a little help from my brothers. They don't work here often, but they help start jobs, an' me Gaffer finishes them off."
"'Jobs'?"
"That's what we call certain parts of the garden we work on. Like what me Gaffer said to me this mornin'," He then assumed a deep, sarcastic voice, exaggerating his father's accent. "'Sam-lad, you really have to finish the job behind the far hedges today, otherwise I'll get one of your brothers to finish it for you'." Sam paused for a moment and suddenly realized something. He let out a loud gasp.
"That's right!" he cried. "I forgot I have to finish that by today! Oh no!"
Sam looked ready to faint any moment, his face drained of any color. He mumbled under his breath for a moment and then tugged nervously on Frodo's shirttail.
"Beggin' your pardon, Mister Frodo, sir," Sam stated timidly. "I can't go with you right now. I really have to finish my job today, otherwise…" Pause. "Otherwise I don't know what'll happen!"
Frodo gave a disappointed yet reassuring smile.
"Well, I don't you to get into any trouble," Frodo said. "I really would have liked to get to know you better, but I guess that can wait until tomorrow."
"Sir!"
Frodo shook Sam's hand one last time before turning around to leave.
"Good-bye, Sam."
Frodo strolled away, leaving Sam standing staring at the place where he was a moment ago. He was unmoving with sheer awe of the situation that just occurred. Then he snapped out of his daze and ran haphazardly back to the hedges, stopping at the weedy flower patch. Swiftly he got back to work, tugging on a weed and running over today's events in his mind.
"I have a new frien—"
He cut himself off before he jumped to any conclusions. He remembered his father's harsh words, "You'll understand someday, lad, that your master's just paying you to work, not to be his friend. Mister Bilbo already has a lot of things to worry about. I don't want to add to it."
Sam grimaced and then pulled on the weed harder. Sometimes he really hated what his dad had to say.
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Mistress-Samwise: Liked that, didn't ya, huh, huh, didn't ya? You know, sometimes I wake up like that myself: my pillows are five feet across the room and I'm strangled by my blanket. Crazy, ain't it? I liked the part with the little girl, didn't you? Also, I liked what I did with Sam. Hey! I would be jumpy if I met Frodo too!
Let's go over two things: #1.A possible grounding of me is expected, so I might not be able to use the computer in a while. #2. Please keep ranting to a minimum. Thank you.
