Even the elves couldn't write a song about the beauty of the Shire, Frodo thought, inhaling the air once more. It was nearly past a decent time for elevenses, but he didn't mind. Hobbiton was a garden unto itself, with fields of green and clear brooks and forests he wouldn't mind reading in until the sun went down. It was a shame that the people in it seemed to take it for granted, thinking of their crops rather than the beautiful fields that they made up. Still, his walk hadn't been devoid of all company. He had stopped to say good morning to each and every farmer and even met one of the local shirriffs. He felt much happier after having met, albeit briefly, more of the hobbits of Hobbiton, and he had to admit that what they lacked in culture they made up for in warm, pleasant natures and honest speech. He had even run into a group of tween lads his own age, taking a break from assisting their fathers to play a game. Two of them he had come off friendly with: a Fredegar Bolger a few years younger and a Folco Boffin. He was distantly related to both, although he'd never met the two. The hobbit love for genealogy was a trait not specific to a farthing. The three had shared a laugh at how they all might be long lost brothers as well, with their initials being FB and all.
"Hello, Mr. Frodo!" Frodo was startled out of his thoughts by the greeting of Samwise Gamgee. He waved to the gardener, who tried to wave back but ended up dropping most of his tools in the process. Frodo hurried to help him regather them.
"Doing a bit of exploring this morning, Mr. Frodo?"
"I didn't get very far at it, but it's just so pretty here. I must have taken the longest walk and yet gone the shortest distance." Frodo replied, handing Sam tool after tool. Sam stood, trying to balance all of them in his arms at once.
"Probably not as much exploring as you must have done in Buckland, I'll wager. I've only been but a few times, all the same, but I imagine there'll be much to see down there." Sam said eagerly. Frodo could tell he was itching to hear all about it. And he felt inclined to tell him. The gardener began to move towards the gate, a few tools still falling errantly from his bundle. Frodo followed after him, picking them up.
"Here, let me help you."
"That's very kind of you, Mr. Frodo. I don't live a ways off neither, only a little down the row." Together they started down the path. The silence only lasted for a moment.
"Mr. Bilbo must be quite an interesting fellow to live with, eh Mr. Frodo?" Samwise said, glancing at Frodo with a gleam in his eye. "Why, I could sit and listen to his tales at the tavern all my life. If only Mr. Bilbo would come more often!" Frodo almost laughed at the thought of Bilbo in a tavern. While his cousin was by no means shy of good company and good drink, he often came back from such places grumbling about those who dismissed his tales as rubbish or the products of too much Longbottom Leaf. It was then, no wonder Bilbo seldom ventured out to them anymore. And when he did, Frodo suspected it was entirely for the benefit of Sam and others like him.
"Old Bilbo's beginning to enjoy the sun in his study a little more than the sun in Hobbiton I wager. But I'm sure he wouldn't hesitate to tell you a tale or two if you're really interested. I know most of them, but I'm afraid my storytelling abilities pale in comparison to Bilbo's." Frodo replied as they neared Sam's home. The gardener opened the gate and began to put the tools away absent-mindedly.
"Oh, now I'm sure that's not true Mr. Frodo, you having been learned and all by Mr. Bilbo." Sam seemed to trail off at this point, hesitant of where to go next. Frodo watched him curiously as Sam examined his clippers and spades with new interest.
"Mr. Frodo," He began haltingly, "You see, I have asked Mr. Bilbo about his tales, and he's offered to loan me some of his writings and such, but I haven't been able to take them." Frodo stared back at Sam, unable to see what he was getting at.
"Why ever not, Sam?" Sam fidgeted with the buttons on his shirt.
"Well for one I couldn't ever take such precious things, Mr. Frodo, for fear of losing them or ruining them. But they wouldn't be any use to me, sir." Again the gardener paused. Frodo put one hand on his hip and furrowed his brow. Still he could not see what Samwise was on about.
"Come now Sam, out with it! What on earth are you talking about?" At this Sam looked up, barely looking Frodo in the eyes.
"Well...you see it's like this Mr. Frodo...I haven't...that is, I've never...I don't know my proper letters, sir. They wouldn't be any use to me as I can't read them." With that final admission Sam turned back to furiously putting his tools away, red in the face.
Frodo was somewhat astonished. He couldn't recall knowing anyone his age who didn't know how to read and write. He couldn't recall any round Buckland either, with that family's passion for tales and legends of old. As for him, well he had always known, what with having Bilbo for a cousin and both sharing a love of reading and tales from other lands. Hobbiton may have looked pretty and charming, but apparently most of it was as countrified as it appeared. Even so, it didn't seem anything to be so upset about; it was easily changed.
"Sam," Frodo said, stepping closer to him. "There's no need to be ashamed. If you just tell Bilbo, I'm sure he would be willing to teach you. He always says 'There's no excuse for hobbits not learning as much as they can when they live in the smallest part of the world'." At this Sam looked up, barely contained excitement in his honest features.
"Really Mr. Frodo? Do you think Mr. Bilbo would mind at all, I mean? I would work very hard sir, honest I would! And anything would be worth being able to hear more tales and being able to read them for myself." Frodo smiled and patted Sam on the back.
"Just your willingness to learn and listen would please Bilbo enough, Sam. You can start whenever you like, and I'll help you whenever I can, though I'm not as good a teacher as Bilbo."
"I'd start right now if I could, Mr. Frodo. I'll have to check with my old Gaffer, as he's a bit suspicious of anything that doesn't have good earth in it, but when he hears it's Mr. Bilbo, I'm sure he'll have nothing more to say against it." Sam finished with his tools, brushing his hands off. He only hesitated a moment before looking up at Frodo with a warm smile.
"Thank you, Mr. Frodo. I never would have been able to tell Mr. Bilbo myself." Frodo returned the smile.
"No trouble at all, Sam. I'll expect you round Bag End within two days at the very least." He said, pointing an accusatory finger at Sam. The gardener waved and Frodo started back towards Bag End.
Yes, Hobbiton won't be that bad, Frodo thought with a smile.
Just revised some things related to Frodo's meeting with Fredegar and Folco, as pointed out to me by an astute reviewer- thanks!