Mistress-Samwise: HOLY CRAP!!! What the shat am I doing?!
UPDATING!?
Yes, my lovelies, I am updating. I (sort of) revived this story, and I found it
necessary to add a few chapters before I put up the first half of this other
story of mine. Maybe, if youse guys are insistent upon it, I'll continue on
this one (I've put it back on hiatus, but there's a few more chapters before it
stops).
Light, fluffy chapter now, a super angsty one next. Stay tuned for that.
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The following day proved to be as pleasant as the last, if not even more so. A soft breeze blew in on Frodo as he sat behind his desk in his study. Fortunately, he had not been assigned any chores, so he decided to catch up on some much needed reading. Though he wasn't reading per se, more like daydreaming, another vice of his. All of a sudden, a sandy-colored head poked in through the window.
"Mister Frodo?"
"Gah!"
"Sorry, sir…"
"That's alright, Sam." Frodo threw the curtains completely aside. "Come on in."
Sam looked at Frodo quizzically.
"I'm not so sure about that, sir…"
"You don't need to worry about it. Here… I'll help you."
Frodo climbed up onto the desk and plucked the hobbitlad from out of the bushes, setting him down onto the floor.
"See?" Frodo grinned. "Easy as that."
"I see what you mean, Mister Frodo," Sam replied confusedly.
"So… Is there anything I can do for you?" Frodo asked, crawling off his desk sitting back into his chair again.
"Well… Yes…" Sam paused and fiddled with the rim of his tunic nervously. "You see, Mister Frodo… I was wonderin' if you could…"
"Yes?"
"I was wonderin' if you could… teach me how to read?"
Frodo's eyes lit up.
"I've been waiting to hear that ever since I first met you! There's nothing else I would like to do!"
"Really, sir?"
"Yes! Now, do you know how to write?"
"Not really, sir."
"Well, it would certainly help things. Let's see if we can get you something to write on."
Frodo then left the room and shortly returned with a slate and chalk. He laid it down onto the desk, but pulled out a sheet of paper and his quill.
"It seems like Bilbo has written on here already, but if we want to use it, I'll have to transfer everything onto paper."
Sam peered over at the slate. There were jumbles of numbers, he knew that, but Bilbo had written "Do not erase" and Sam couldn't read that. Frodo had already started to write all the figuring out onto the paper, his wispy handwriting quickly filling the page. Sam was wordless with wonder as he watched the quill flick back and forth, forming beautiful ink letters.
"See, Sam?" Frodo said while gently blowing on the wet ink. "With practice, you can write like this. Of course, we have to start on printing first."
Frodo drew his sleeve across the slate and cleared away the numbers. He delicately took the chalk into is hand and wrote out "Frodo".
"This is my name," he stated. "See? F-R-O-D-O." He then wrote out Sam's name. "And this is yours, S-A-M." He handed the chalk to Sam. "Can you write that?"
Sam struggled to find a proper way to hold the chalk.
"Oh, sir… How do I hold this right?"
"Hold it between your thumb and first two fingers while letting it tip back a bit. There you go."
Sam slowly wrote out the "S", followed by the "A" and "M".
"Is that right, Mister Frodo?"
"Yes. Now here's the hard part… Memorizing the alphabet."
Sam blinked.
"There are twenty-six letters that help make up every word we use. They are called, collectively, the alphabet." Frodo wrote out all the letters and Sam stared at them in amazement.
"I have to memorize all of them?"
"Yes, but it helps trying them out first. Go ahead and start writing."
Sam gulped and nervously took the chalk to the slate. His wiry handwriting tapered off after a few letters. Frodo frowned.
"Here…"
Frodo gently placed his hand over Sam's and carefully guided the hobbitlad as he wrote. Sam was very silent, blushing slightly as he felt Frodo's fingers curl over his own.
"You'll see it gets easier after some practice."
Sam nodded in acknowledgement. For many minutes, Frodo helped him trace out the letters over and over. It wasn't long until Bilbo knocked on the door.
"Frodo?" he asked. "It's afternoon tea. You want to know how to properly prepare tea for once?"
"Now, Uncle Bilbo, I don't think I will dignify that with a reply. Anyways, I'm busy."
"What with?"
"I'm teaching Sam how to write."
Bilbo entered the room. He quickly eyed the lads and then turned to Frodo.
"Frodo, can I talk to you a moment?"
Frodo nodded and looked to Sam, who stared back in a puzzled manner. Frodo stood up to leave the room with Bilbo. They both stepped into the kitchen.
"Now, Frodo-lad," Bilbo said. "I know you're trying to help Sam, but his father won't approve, so I can't allow you to continue the lesson."
"But Bilbo—"
"It's not my decision. I've tried teaching his older brothers, but Hamfast didn't let me doing so. And I must respect his decisions."
Frodo said nothing. He knew he could not speak to Bilbo about it, and he definitely didn't want to get Sam into any trouble. It just seemed a shame. He was such a bright, young lad…
"At least let me talk to his father," Frodo pleaded. "I'm sure I can get him to listen to me."
"I won't have any of that," Bilbo replied. "It's a very messy business talking to that fellow. If you are so insistent upon, I'll try reasoning with him. But I'm not promising anything."
Frodo nodded in acknowledgement.
"Why don't you go do something else with Sam?" Bilbo proposed. "I'll sort this out as soon as I can."
When Frodo returned to the study, he found Sam slowly navigating the piece of chalk across the slate.
"See Mister Frodo?" Sam stated cheerfully while holding up the slate for Frodo to see. "It's my name!"
Sure enough, the small hobbitlad had successfully spelled his name out. Frodo leaned over next to him, trying to smile while he spoke.
"That's very good work, Sam, but I think you would much rather do something else."
Sam cocked his head.
"Like what, Mister Frodo?"
"Uhm…" Frodo had to think fast. "Let's… Go outside. It's very nice."
"Oh," Sam said, slightly disheartened. He really wanted to learn how to write. "Alright."
Frodo lead Sam out into the hallway. Sam lagged behind, gaping at the ornate woodwork that decorated the walls. He then stood still in wonderment.
"Mister Frodo?" Sam asked all of a sudden. "May I see your room, please, sir?"
Frodo turned around.
"You certainly may." Frodo added a smile. He walked a little bit down the corridor and opened one of the doors. "Right here."
At first, Sam stood there while Frodo was holding the door open for him. It took him a while to realize the gesture. He quickly stepped in and Frodo softly closed the door behind himself. Sam looked around the room. It wasn't particularly fancy, aside from a dresser and desk made of deep brown wood. While he scanned the many possessions that were lying upon it, Frodo flopped himself onto his bed.
"Just tell me when you're ready to leave, alright?" Frodo inquired while shutting his eyes. Sam nodded vaguely and leaned up further to examine the dresser. On it were numerable trinkets, including an elaborate pocketknife, empty inkwell, and an ivory comb. His eyes suddenly lit up and he struggled to reach for one of the items. He managed to grasp it and pull it down from the dresser. It was a stone rabbit, dark navy blue, and unusually heavy. Bunching his sleeve cuff in his hand, he carefully shined the smooth stone until it gleamed brightly. Frodo idly opened one of his eyes to see what the hobbitlad was doing.
"Don't touch that!" Frodo exclaimed suddenly. He swiftly got up from his bed and pulled the rabbit from Sam's grasp. Then he delicately settled it back onto the dresser.
"I'm sorry, sir," Sam apologized worryingly. "I didn't know…"
"Please ask before you go touching my things," Frodo stated sternly.
"I'm sorry," Sam murmured softly, hanging his head. Frodo looked at Sam and frowned.
"No, I'm sorry," Frodo said. "I shouldn't have been so rude." Frodo took Sam's hand. "Come on."
Sam nodded and followed Frodo out of the room. Once outside, they turned onto the road and continued down it for some time.
"Sir?" Sam asked timidly. "Where are we going?"
"Good question," Frodo replied. "You know what? I hadn't really thought about that. You don't happen to have any ideas yourself?"
Sam shook his head. Frodo sighed.
"Oh, well… I'm sure there's plenty we can do."
Meanwhile, Bilbo had left Bag End for the Gamgees'. He approached the front yard and found the gate open. Sitting outside the front door was Hamson, the oldest of the Gamgee children. He was thoughtfully smoking on a pipe.
"Good afternoon, Hamson," Bilbo said cheerfully.
"Oh, good afternoon, sir," Hamson replied politely.
"Is your father home?" Bilbo inquired. "I wish to speak to him."
"He's inside."
"Thank you."
Bilbo knocked on the door. A few moments later, it was answered by Hamfast.
"Hello, Mister Bilbo," Hamfast greeted his master. "I was just about to have tea." He swung the door open. "Come in."
Once Hamfast had finished serving the tea, he sat down opposite Bilbo.
"Now, what was it you wanted to discuss?" he asked, tapping the last few drops of tea off his spoon.
"It's about Samwise."
Hamfast looked up from his mug at the mention of his son's name.
"What about 'im?" he asked skeptically.
"Your son is good lad, Hamfast," Bilbo said after taking a sip of his tea. "I've seen your other sons and daughters grow up, but Sam is different. He is a very sweet boy. But what's more important is that he is providing my nephew much-needed companionship—"
"Just what are you trying to say?" Hamfast interrupted impatiently.
"What I am trying to say is that your son wants to learn how to read," Bilbo answered plainly.
"We've had this discussion before, Mister Bilbo, and you know what the answer is." Hamfast leaned forward. "I don't want you going and teaching my son."
"I wasn't the one teaching him," Bilbo replied. "It was Frodo."
"Your nephew has gotten Sam into enough trouble already. Not only is he distracting him from his work, but now he thinks he doesn't even need to do it anymore."
"He's just a child, Hamfast. Why won't you understand that?"
"With all respect, Mister Bilbo, I don't think I need you telling me what to do with my own son. You're not the father here."
"I am not trying to offend you. You know that."
"I don't need my children going off and learning how to read and write. The older I get, the harder it is for me to do my job. I am counting on my children to help me put food on the table. If they're not doing their jobs, Bell and I are in big trouble. Please, Mister Bilbo. I appreciate your willingness to help, but it'll only make things worse."
"I know you want what's best for your children, but they can't stay gardeners for the rest of their lives. Eventually, one of them will have to move on. There still is time for Sam."
"I don't want to tell you again, sir."
"All I'm asking is to give him a chance. Then if you find it too bothersome, I'll have no problem with stopping the lessons. But if you do, you would then have your son to deal with."
Hamfast grunted.
"If you are so bloody insistent upon it… But I will not have your nephew teaching him. Is that clear?"
Bilbo silently sighed.
"Yes."
He then stood up to leave.
"I apologize for any inconvenience," Bilbo stated. "You're a good friend, Hamfast, but I know neither of us like having this arguments."
Hamfast said nothing.
"Good afternoon," Bilbo said while turning around and walking away. Once outside, he carefully closed the door behind him.
"Knowing Sam, this was probably all his idea," Hamfast grumbled under his breath.
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Mistress-Samwise: Lah-tee-dah. Check out my website or suffer the consequences. radd.heavenspit.com (there is no www. in front!) Also, be sure to check out my other quality stories. Stay tuned for another chapter in Jaded sometime soon, too.
