Author's Note: Thank you Shirebound and Alexis Rockford for your kind words. I hope you enjoy the next chapter.
Another Note: This story takes place a year before the BIG BIRTHDAY. I will be using a mixture of the book and movie verse. If you're familiar with both you'll see what I mean as you read on.
Chapter Three: Bothersome Burrs
Samwise remained kneeling on the ground, his hands positioned on a battered flower. His mouth was agape; his eyes were round; and a faint blush was creeping into his round face. He made a feeble attempt to speak but stopped. Suddenly, an inspiration took hold of him, and he said with all the brilliance of the most intellectual hobbit, "Hallo!"
Rose, commonly known as Rosie, returned the salutation. A silence followed that lasted until Rose declared, "I brought Mr. Bilbo and your Mr. Frodo some pies for the party." She held up the ample basket in her arms to prove it.
"It smells delicious," answered Sam. With all politeness, he asked, "Do you have pies in there?"
"That's what I just said," Rosie giggled, the dimples on her cheeks most becoming.
Sam flushed deeper than before and rose to his feet with his head cast down. He scratched the back of his neck, leaving a streak of dirt. "I meant, what kind of pies are in there?"
"Strawberry rhubarb, apple, mincemeat-well all sorts of pies!"
A discomfiting quiet settled over the two, and Samwise wished he had followed his master into Bag End. He averted Rose Cotton's gaze as he said, "I reckon Mr. Frodo is searching for me. If you'll pardon me, Miss Rosie." With an embarrassed air, he brushed past her. His head was still down, which prevented him from seeing where he was going. Consequently, he stumbled into a bush full of ugly, brown burrs.
"Samwise, did you hurt yourself?" Rosie nearly dropped her basket (but she knew the importance of keeping apple, strawberry rhubarb, and mincemeat pies whole, at least until consumption!).
Samwise did not reply, but fled to the safety of the Bag End kitchen. There he found Frodo, who was contentedly boiling water for the tea. Frodo was surprised to discover that Sam was grave and distraught.
"Why, Sam, you look as if you've just survived an encounter with an angry orc!" cried Frodo.
"I wish it had been an orc, Sir. I think I could have faced him better than her."
"Who's her, and what are you saying?"
Sam removed his hat-this seemed to be a nervous habit of his-and placed it on the crude wooden table. He avoided Mr. Frodo's stare, busying himself with the counting of several notches that had been carved into the table over the course of years.
"What are you saying?" Frodo reiterated. He noticed a strange, prickly object protruding from the edge of Sam's left sleeve.
Master Gamgee managed to talk around the lump in his throat, "Miss Rosie Cotton came by with pies, and I made a fool of myself as is my custom." He slouched into a chair at the table, but yelped in pain and sprang up, clutching the seat of his trousers.
Frodo abandoned the tea kettle and rushed to his companion's aid. "My dear Sam, what has happened now?" He tried to disguise the exasperation in his voice. He did not know the reason why Samwise Gamgee had suddenly lost his composure. After all, he had known Rosie Cotton for years and had never exhibited any nervousness around her until recently.
"Mr. Frodo," yelped Sam, "I've seemed to have sat on a burr."
His brow furrowed with puzzlement, Frodo stared at the seat Sam had been occupying moments before. "What would a burr be doing on the chair?"
"I fell into some underbrush when I was escaping from Ro-that is-entering the smial. The burrs must have stuck on my trousers then."
"We'll just have to remove them." Frodo's voice quivered; it was his desire that Sam would mistake this for concern, and not make the connection that he was trying desperately not to laugh.
The bothersome burrs clung onto a large extent of Sam's clothing. As Frodo cleared his throat, Samwise gave a disapproving glance. "Will you not help me get rid of these nuisances, Mr. Frodo?"
As Frodo pondered how he was to remove the burrs without degrading Samwise Gamgee any further, a clamorous knock was heard on the front door. He sighed, relieved that he did not have to solve that dilemma immediately. "I shall return shortly, dear Sam." After patting the tremulous gardener on his brawny shoulder (and swiping a burr from his shirt), Frodo quitted the room.
"Don't concern yourself, cousin Frodo. We'll answer the door for you!" shouted Merry, as he exited the parlour, Pippin trailing after him.
"I believe I'm perfectly capable of answering my own front door," said Frodo. But Meriadoc had already swung the circular door open.
Rosie Cotton beamed as she entered with her basket. "Where is Samwise? He ran off in such a hurry I was afraid something was terribly wrong."
Frodo clasped his hands together, placed them behind his back, and then gazed up at the ceiling. A suitable answer was on his lips, ready to be heard by the whole assemblage, when an audible whisper interrupted him. "I just left for home, Mr. Frodo." came Samwise's voice in a very urgent tone.
Rosie and Frodo both jolted at the voice, whilst Meriadoc and Peregrin exchanged confused glances. What was that ridiculous, if not ignorant, Samwise Gamgee doing?
"Sam is not here, Miss Cotton," Frodo lied, though the truth was as obvious as the blush that was creeping across his boyish visage.
"But I heard him speak; even you cannot deny that, Master Frodo," protested Rosie, utterly bemused.
"What I meant was Sam is injured-not severely-and does not wish to be disturbed."
"Perhaps I can be of assistance? I know of a few healing herbs." Rose advanced towards the kitchen, but Frodo caught her by the arm. Merry and Pippin's heads jerked from left to right as they glanced from Frodo to Rosie.
"What lovely pies, Miss Cotton. They will certainly be enjoyed at the festivities this evening," remarked Frodo in the hopes that she would believe his pretence.
"Why don't I take them to the kitchen for you, Sir?" Rosie offered eagerly.
Frodo heard Sam give a distorted cry, listened to the scraping of a wooden chair on the stone floor and the distinct pattering of feet, and realised that Samwise was searching for an appropriate place to hide in the possible event that Rose Cotton entered the kitchen. Frodo knew his gardener would rather meet a hungry and vicious warg than have Rosie see him covered in burs. Quickly, Mr. Baggins stepped in front the entrance to the room. "I'm certain Pip would be more than willing to relieve you of that heavy load," he replied in all politeness.
Peregrin stared at Frodo in bewilderment and would have inquired why anyone in their right mind would want to take a burdensome load, if Meriadoc had not kicked him in the shins. After an expletive of pain, followed by a childish display that included him hopping around the front entrance on one foot, Peregrin managed to grimace.
"Of course I'll take the pies . . ." Pippin eyed them hungrily . . . "to the kitchen, that is." He snatched the provisions from Rose and, giving Frodo a disparaging gaze, quitted the room.
Miss Cotton was on the verge of demanding why she could not see Samwise when a cacophonous shriek of half mirth and half dismay reverberated off the walls of the hobbit-hole. A moment later, Peregrin Took dashed out of the kitchen, snickering hysterically, clutching his stomach and covering his mouth in the vain hope that he could stifle his giggles.
"Merry," cried Pippin, "I've never seen such a strange sight!"
This was a strong claim, for having frequented the pub since the age of thirteen (he hadn't been drinking at that time), Pippin had witnessed the absurd antics of many an inebriated hobbit. Intrigued at his cousin's announcement, Meriadoc rushed into the room. In seconds, he was choking on his own laughter.
Wholly forgetting his noble plan to save Samwise from complete mortification, Frodo anxiously entered the kitchen. This enabled Rose to follow with Pippin close behind.
Frodo crimsoned with rage as he observed Meriadoc Brandybuck sniggering and pointing at Samwise, who was decorated with the uncomfortable burs. Rosie started, flushed, and tried to remain composed; but it was evident she wanted to giggle along with Masters Merry and Pippin. Frodo diplomatically ordered Merry and Pippin to assist Sam in the removal of the wretched seedcases, while he and Rosie organised the pies and prepared the tea. Masters Took, Gamgee, and Brandybuck traipsed outside where they could remove the burs, and as Merry aptly put it, "Help plant more of those infernal weeds for Sam to stumble into next autumn."
Rose grinned as she removed the jostled pies from the basket. Master Frodo gazed askance at Miss Cotton in order to prevent himself from chortling. He would not laugh over Sam's misfortune, regardless how humorous the situation had been.
After several minutes of silence, Frodo sunk into a chair and offered quite decorously, "Do sit down." As Rose sat on the bench, Frodo added, "No, sit anywhere but on that bench! It is not at all comfortable, especially for a lady such as yourself."
Rosie glanced about the room; the only other seat in the vicinity was occupied by Master Baggins. Smiling, she replied, "Thank you, but I don't exactly relish sitting on the floor."
From that moment on, Frodo knew Rose Cotton was a special hobbit lass. "Take my chair, if you please." He graciously offered her his seat before retiring to the bench.
To Be Continued!
Another Note: This story takes place a year before the BIG BIRTHDAY. I will be using a mixture of the book and movie verse. If you're familiar with both you'll see what I mean as you read on.
Chapter Three: Bothersome Burrs
Samwise remained kneeling on the ground, his hands positioned on a battered flower. His mouth was agape; his eyes were round; and a faint blush was creeping into his round face. He made a feeble attempt to speak but stopped. Suddenly, an inspiration took hold of him, and he said with all the brilliance of the most intellectual hobbit, "Hallo!"
Rose, commonly known as Rosie, returned the salutation. A silence followed that lasted until Rose declared, "I brought Mr. Bilbo and your Mr. Frodo some pies for the party." She held up the ample basket in her arms to prove it.
"It smells delicious," answered Sam. With all politeness, he asked, "Do you have pies in there?"
"That's what I just said," Rosie giggled, the dimples on her cheeks most becoming.
Sam flushed deeper than before and rose to his feet with his head cast down. He scratched the back of his neck, leaving a streak of dirt. "I meant, what kind of pies are in there?"
"Strawberry rhubarb, apple, mincemeat-well all sorts of pies!"
A discomfiting quiet settled over the two, and Samwise wished he had followed his master into Bag End. He averted Rose Cotton's gaze as he said, "I reckon Mr. Frodo is searching for me. If you'll pardon me, Miss Rosie." With an embarrassed air, he brushed past her. His head was still down, which prevented him from seeing where he was going. Consequently, he stumbled into a bush full of ugly, brown burrs.
"Samwise, did you hurt yourself?" Rosie nearly dropped her basket (but she knew the importance of keeping apple, strawberry rhubarb, and mincemeat pies whole, at least until consumption!).
Samwise did not reply, but fled to the safety of the Bag End kitchen. There he found Frodo, who was contentedly boiling water for the tea. Frodo was surprised to discover that Sam was grave and distraught.
"Why, Sam, you look as if you've just survived an encounter with an angry orc!" cried Frodo.
"I wish it had been an orc, Sir. I think I could have faced him better than her."
"Who's her, and what are you saying?"
Sam removed his hat-this seemed to be a nervous habit of his-and placed it on the crude wooden table. He avoided Mr. Frodo's stare, busying himself with the counting of several notches that had been carved into the table over the course of years.
"What are you saying?" Frodo reiterated. He noticed a strange, prickly object protruding from the edge of Sam's left sleeve.
Master Gamgee managed to talk around the lump in his throat, "Miss Rosie Cotton came by with pies, and I made a fool of myself as is my custom." He slouched into a chair at the table, but yelped in pain and sprang up, clutching the seat of his trousers.
Frodo abandoned the tea kettle and rushed to his companion's aid. "My dear Sam, what has happened now?" He tried to disguise the exasperation in his voice. He did not know the reason why Samwise Gamgee had suddenly lost his composure. After all, he had known Rosie Cotton for years and had never exhibited any nervousness around her until recently.
"Mr. Frodo," yelped Sam, "I've seemed to have sat on a burr."
His brow furrowed with puzzlement, Frodo stared at the seat Sam had been occupying moments before. "What would a burr be doing on the chair?"
"I fell into some underbrush when I was escaping from Ro-that is-entering the smial. The burrs must have stuck on my trousers then."
"We'll just have to remove them." Frodo's voice quivered; it was his desire that Sam would mistake this for concern, and not make the connection that he was trying desperately not to laugh.
The bothersome burrs clung onto a large extent of Sam's clothing. As Frodo cleared his throat, Samwise gave a disapproving glance. "Will you not help me get rid of these nuisances, Mr. Frodo?"
As Frodo pondered how he was to remove the burrs without degrading Samwise Gamgee any further, a clamorous knock was heard on the front door. He sighed, relieved that he did not have to solve that dilemma immediately. "I shall return shortly, dear Sam." After patting the tremulous gardener on his brawny shoulder (and swiping a burr from his shirt), Frodo quitted the room.
"Don't concern yourself, cousin Frodo. We'll answer the door for you!" shouted Merry, as he exited the parlour, Pippin trailing after him.
"I believe I'm perfectly capable of answering my own front door," said Frodo. But Meriadoc had already swung the circular door open.
Rosie Cotton beamed as she entered with her basket. "Where is Samwise? He ran off in such a hurry I was afraid something was terribly wrong."
Frodo clasped his hands together, placed them behind his back, and then gazed up at the ceiling. A suitable answer was on his lips, ready to be heard by the whole assemblage, when an audible whisper interrupted him. "I just left for home, Mr. Frodo." came Samwise's voice in a very urgent tone.
Rosie and Frodo both jolted at the voice, whilst Meriadoc and Peregrin exchanged confused glances. What was that ridiculous, if not ignorant, Samwise Gamgee doing?
"Sam is not here, Miss Cotton," Frodo lied, though the truth was as obvious as the blush that was creeping across his boyish visage.
"But I heard him speak; even you cannot deny that, Master Frodo," protested Rosie, utterly bemused.
"What I meant was Sam is injured-not severely-and does not wish to be disturbed."
"Perhaps I can be of assistance? I know of a few healing herbs." Rose advanced towards the kitchen, but Frodo caught her by the arm. Merry and Pippin's heads jerked from left to right as they glanced from Frodo to Rosie.
"What lovely pies, Miss Cotton. They will certainly be enjoyed at the festivities this evening," remarked Frodo in the hopes that she would believe his pretence.
"Why don't I take them to the kitchen for you, Sir?" Rosie offered eagerly.
Frodo heard Sam give a distorted cry, listened to the scraping of a wooden chair on the stone floor and the distinct pattering of feet, and realised that Samwise was searching for an appropriate place to hide in the possible event that Rose Cotton entered the kitchen. Frodo knew his gardener would rather meet a hungry and vicious warg than have Rosie see him covered in burs. Quickly, Mr. Baggins stepped in front the entrance to the room. "I'm certain Pip would be more than willing to relieve you of that heavy load," he replied in all politeness.
Peregrin stared at Frodo in bewilderment and would have inquired why anyone in their right mind would want to take a burdensome load, if Meriadoc had not kicked him in the shins. After an expletive of pain, followed by a childish display that included him hopping around the front entrance on one foot, Peregrin managed to grimace.
"Of course I'll take the pies . . ." Pippin eyed them hungrily . . . "to the kitchen, that is." He snatched the provisions from Rose and, giving Frodo a disparaging gaze, quitted the room.
Miss Cotton was on the verge of demanding why she could not see Samwise when a cacophonous shriek of half mirth and half dismay reverberated off the walls of the hobbit-hole. A moment later, Peregrin Took dashed out of the kitchen, snickering hysterically, clutching his stomach and covering his mouth in the vain hope that he could stifle his giggles.
"Merry," cried Pippin, "I've never seen such a strange sight!"
This was a strong claim, for having frequented the pub since the age of thirteen (he hadn't been drinking at that time), Pippin had witnessed the absurd antics of many an inebriated hobbit. Intrigued at his cousin's announcement, Meriadoc rushed into the room. In seconds, he was choking on his own laughter.
Wholly forgetting his noble plan to save Samwise from complete mortification, Frodo anxiously entered the kitchen. This enabled Rose to follow with Pippin close behind.
Frodo crimsoned with rage as he observed Meriadoc Brandybuck sniggering and pointing at Samwise, who was decorated with the uncomfortable burs. Rosie started, flushed, and tried to remain composed; but it was evident she wanted to giggle along with Masters Merry and Pippin. Frodo diplomatically ordered Merry and Pippin to assist Sam in the removal of the wretched seedcases, while he and Rosie organised the pies and prepared the tea. Masters Took, Gamgee, and Brandybuck traipsed outside where they could remove the burs, and as Merry aptly put it, "Help plant more of those infernal weeds for Sam to stumble into next autumn."
Rose grinned as she removed the jostled pies from the basket. Master Frodo gazed askance at Miss Cotton in order to prevent himself from chortling. He would not laugh over Sam's misfortune, regardless how humorous the situation had been.
After several minutes of silence, Frodo sunk into a chair and offered quite decorously, "Do sit down." As Rose sat on the bench, Frodo added, "No, sit anywhere but on that bench! It is not at all comfortable, especially for a lady such as yourself."
Rosie glanced about the room; the only other seat in the vicinity was occupied by Master Baggins. Smiling, she replied, "Thank you, but I don't exactly relish sitting on the floor."
From that moment on, Frodo knew Rose Cotton was a special hobbit lass. "Take my chair, if you please." He graciously offered her his seat before retiring to the bench.
To Be Continued!