:~:
The following day, just as Sam was preparing to head up to Bag End, his father caught him by the arm.
"I don't know what happened yesterday, but I have a feeling that it had nothin' to do with the roses." The Gaffer held his son's fore arm tightly. "Now you listen and listen good; if I ever hear of you doin' anythin' but your job up there at Bag End, so help me, you'll never go back there again." Sam couldn't bring himself to look at his father until that point. His eyes grew wide with fright.
"But...but da'," Sam sputtered out. "I wasn't doin' anything else. I was just weedin', that's all." The Gaffer studies his youngest son for a moment before he spoke again.
"Well, just make sure it stays that way. Those Bagginses are. . ."
"Da! How could you say anythin' bad about Mr. Bilbo or Mr. Frodo?! They've been nothin' but kind to us!" Sam shouted before he realized what he was doing.
"Don't you be raisin' your voice to me." The Gaffer threatened. "I was only goin' say that they're your superiors; your employers. It ain't right to be actin' as equals with them. I though I taught you better then that!"
"But Da!"
"But nothin'! We've a job to do and you'll not be putting food on this table by socializing, especially with your betters." With this, the Gaffer finally released Sam's arm. Sam stumbled back but quickly recovered his footing.
"Now, get goin' 'fore I make ya stay home and work with me." With that last threat still ringing in his ears, Sam fled from #3 Bagshot Row and ran up the lane to Bag End.
:~:
Frodo was in his bed room, sitting at his desk. Sighing heavily, he looked out the window. The sun was shinning brightly and a little robin was perched on a tree branch, singing its sweet song to the world. It was on days like this that Frodo was most depressed.
Now, most hobbits would say that days like this were their favorites; a day for gardening, or taking a walk or going on a picnic, complete with all 3 courses. But Frodo had his own reasons. It was on days like this that his parents would take him for a walk around the Shire.
They would walk and walk, not usually having a destination in mind. Just walking, taking in the beautiful scenery and talking about every little thing. Most of the times, these walks would turn into rides for young Frodo, who so often 'got tired' and would wind up on his fathers back or on his shoulders.
When they would stop, his mother would spread out the blanket and the three of them would sit in down on a hill or under a tree and just enjoy the beautiful day. It was then that his mother would start to sing. She would sing one of Frodo's favorite lullabies that she used to sing him to sleep to. Many times, it still worked and he would fall asleep, curled in his mother's lap or safe in his father's strong arms.
On the way home, after a little nap, his father would tell him stories of his childhood and the mischief he would get into. Frodo always asked for the same story, would laugh at the same parts and his mother would always comment, 'Now don't be giving him any ideas'. For 12 years they lived happily, thinking it would never end.
But one evening, it did. His father had always been fascinated with boats, even though Hobbits have traditionally been ones to stay away from water. He had spent many hours reading books about boats and the art of sailing. One night, after supper, Frodo's father decided he wanted to go out and try sailing. Frodo's mother, not a fan of the idea, decided that maybe she should go with him.
Neither one returned home that evening, nor the next morning. Frodo awoke to find his house filled with relations, though none of them were his parents. To have to hear that your parents drowned during the night at the tender age of 11 years was devastating to Frodo and he never really recovered from the shock. Bilbo had rescued him from Brandy Hall and gave him a proper home at Bag End.
And now, 13 years later, Frodo still feels the pain of loneliness on day's like this. His heart has never really healed and he doesn't believe it ever will.
Just then, a shadowy figure passed by the window. Jumping slightly out of surprise, Frodo stood up and looked out into the garden. A long shadow was cast across the flowers on the window ledge, leaving them in darkness. Though it was a good sized window, the source that blocked the sun was not within Frodo's sight, though he would take 3 guesses as to who it was.
:~:
Sam was wandering between the flower beds, double checking for weeds. The sun was shining brightly with not a cloud in the sky. Looking down, Sam realized how dry the soil really was. Hobbiton hadn't had a good rain in some time, and the plants were starting to show it. Rushing over to the garden shed, he pulled out the large watering can then made his way over to the water pump.
Even though he knew what he should be doing, Sam's mind began to wonder. His thoughts were on what his father had told him earlier, about how Mr. Bilbo and Mr. Frodo were his betters and he had no rights to be actin' as equals with them. Now, Sam knew his father was right, but only believed it to a point. What was wrong with being nice and just talking with Mr. Frodo? Sam just didn't understand.
Mr. Frodo seemed to always have sadness in his eyes. Sam knew that his parents had died when he was young, that's why he came to Hibbiton, to live with Mr. Bilbo. When Sam was with Frodo, the sadness seemed to leave, and was replaced with pure happiness. What was wrong with keeping his Master happy?
As these thoughts are going through his head, the already filled watering can was overflowing all over Sam's hand and onto the ground. A small puddle was forming near his feet when a shadow crept up behind him cast and itself over Sam.
*To Be Continued...*
The following day, just as Sam was preparing to head up to Bag End, his father caught him by the arm.
"I don't know what happened yesterday, but I have a feeling that it had nothin' to do with the roses." The Gaffer held his son's fore arm tightly. "Now you listen and listen good; if I ever hear of you doin' anythin' but your job up there at Bag End, so help me, you'll never go back there again." Sam couldn't bring himself to look at his father until that point. His eyes grew wide with fright.
"But...but da'," Sam sputtered out. "I wasn't doin' anything else. I was just weedin', that's all." The Gaffer studies his youngest son for a moment before he spoke again.
"Well, just make sure it stays that way. Those Bagginses are. . ."
"Da! How could you say anythin' bad about Mr. Bilbo or Mr. Frodo?! They've been nothin' but kind to us!" Sam shouted before he realized what he was doing.
"Don't you be raisin' your voice to me." The Gaffer threatened. "I was only goin' say that they're your superiors; your employers. It ain't right to be actin' as equals with them. I though I taught you better then that!"
"But Da!"
"But nothin'! We've a job to do and you'll not be putting food on this table by socializing, especially with your betters." With this, the Gaffer finally released Sam's arm. Sam stumbled back but quickly recovered his footing.
"Now, get goin' 'fore I make ya stay home and work with me." With that last threat still ringing in his ears, Sam fled from #3 Bagshot Row and ran up the lane to Bag End.
:~:
Frodo was in his bed room, sitting at his desk. Sighing heavily, he looked out the window. The sun was shinning brightly and a little robin was perched on a tree branch, singing its sweet song to the world. It was on days like this that Frodo was most depressed.
Now, most hobbits would say that days like this were their favorites; a day for gardening, or taking a walk or going on a picnic, complete with all 3 courses. But Frodo had his own reasons. It was on days like this that his parents would take him for a walk around the Shire.
They would walk and walk, not usually having a destination in mind. Just walking, taking in the beautiful scenery and talking about every little thing. Most of the times, these walks would turn into rides for young Frodo, who so often 'got tired' and would wind up on his fathers back or on his shoulders.
When they would stop, his mother would spread out the blanket and the three of them would sit in down on a hill or under a tree and just enjoy the beautiful day. It was then that his mother would start to sing. She would sing one of Frodo's favorite lullabies that she used to sing him to sleep to. Many times, it still worked and he would fall asleep, curled in his mother's lap or safe in his father's strong arms.
On the way home, after a little nap, his father would tell him stories of his childhood and the mischief he would get into. Frodo always asked for the same story, would laugh at the same parts and his mother would always comment, 'Now don't be giving him any ideas'. For 12 years they lived happily, thinking it would never end.
But one evening, it did. His father had always been fascinated with boats, even though Hobbits have traditionally been ones to stay away from water. He had spent many hours reading books about boats and the art of sailing. One night, after supper, Frodo's father decided he wanted to go out and try sailing. Frodo's mother, not a fan of the idea, decided that maybe she should go with him.
Neither one returned home that evening, nor the next morning. Frodo awoke to find his house filled with relations, though none of them were his parents. To have to hear that your parents drowned during the night at the tender age of 11 years was devastating to Frodo and he never really recovered from the shock. Bilbo had rescued him from Brandy Hall and gave him a proper home at Bag End.
And now, 13 years later, Frodo still feels the pain of loneliness on day's like this. His heart has never really healed and he doesn't believe it ever will.
Just then, a shadowy figure passed by the window. Jumping slightly out of surprise, Frodo stood up and looked out into the garden. A long shadow was cast across the flowers on the window ledge, leaving them in darkness. Though it was a good sized window, the source that blocked the sun was not within Frodo's sight, though he would take 3 guesses as to who it was.
:~:
Sam was wandering between the flower beds, double checking for weeds. The sun was shining brightly with not a cloud in the sky. Looking down, Sam realized how dry the soil really was. Hobbiton hadn't had a good rain in some time, and the plants were starting to show it. Rushing over to the garden shed, he pulled out the large watering can then made his way over to the water pump.
Even though he knew what he should be doing, Sam's mind began to wonder. His thoughts were on what his father had told him earlier, about how Mr. Bilbo and Mr. Frodo were his betters and he had no rights to be actin' as equals with them. Now, Sam knew his father was right, but only believed it to a point. What was wrong with being nice and just talking with Mr. Frodo? Sam just didn't understand.
Mr. Frodo seemed to always have sadness in his eyes. Sam knew that his parents had died when he was young, that's why he came to Hibbiton, to live with Mr. Bilbo. When Sam was with Frodo, the sadness seemed to leave, and was replaced with pure happiness. What was wrong with keeping his Master happy?
As these thoughts are going through his head, the already filled watering can was overflowing all over Sam's hand and onto the ground. A small puddle was forming near his feet when a shadow crept up behind him cast and itself over Sam.
*To Be Continued...*