Bag-End,
Shire,
Third Age.
He skipped up the neat, pebbled road in his excitement. will be nowhere near Bag-End at the moment but perhaps Mr. Bilbo would be in residence. It was near evening and most of the Hobbits had retired to their homes, taking their wares and bought merchandize with them.
Sure enough, he saw the elder Hobbit working about in the front garden facing the door of Bag-End. The door gleamed in a new red paint and the plants were thriving under Mr. Bilbo's hands. He did not garden much but he loved his little garden so! Usually his old Gaffer takes care of it.
Dressed in a white shirt, a red jacket with golden buttons, Bilbo looked dashing. He did not seem to age as the years went by but Bilbo was always considered 'queer' by the other Hobbits.
"You tell your boy to stay away from him." A well-meaning Hobbit said to old Gaffer, shaking her finger at Sam. "Loads of trouble Bilbo is! What with all the gold and jools he has!"
"Cobble-sticks!" Old Gaffer scoffed when she left. "I worked with Mr. Bilbo for nearly all my years and never have I seen Bag-End filled with gold and jools! He is queer but he is a good Hobbit." He turned to Sam, looking down at the young hobbit-child. "You don't worry, lad. Bilbo is a good Hobbit, finest in the Shire. You stick with him and you might even learn new things."
Old Gaffer was always so wise! So Sam shadowed Mr. Bilbo, shy not to come too straight out but still very much excited to see where he may go. Mr. Bilbo had some favorite walking roads he would take and sometimes- if he was lucky- he found he walking in the night off to different places… and he would meet Elves! Elves tall and fair with gleaming dark or fair hair streaming behind them. He would hide and look but he was too far away to get a proper glimpse, alas!
So he decided one day, when his courage was up at last to go and ask Bilbo about them. That is how he came to Bag-End now!
He hesitated, watching Mr. Bilbo hum a merry tune as he worked. Then the Hobbit got up and stamped his feet before taking off his garden gloves. He turned around and looked at him in surprised pleasure.
"Ah, Samwise, my lad." The Hobbit spoke, deft fingers working with his pipe. "Come here, come here! Sit by me!"
Sam looked up at the older Hobbit in awe. Bilbo, on the other hand, was impatient and he patted the empty side of his bench. Realizing he had been staring doing nothing, the Hobbit-child scrambled up to his seat.
Bilbo took a long draught of his pipe and blew out, sighing in contentment. He had a fascination of smoke rings and he nearly could make them in all sizes. Sam watched him in rapt interest.
"So, Sam, my boy, tell me how is the Old Gaffer?"
"He is fine, sir. Just resting his feet after a long day's work, sir." Sam answered, tearing his eyes away from the smoke rings to look at Bilbo. The older Hobbit sighed happily and leaned his head back, enjoying himself.
"And how are you, my boy? Came to see Frodo, have you?"
"I am good, sir." Sam said, kicking his feet in the air. "I was just walking by. Mr. Frodo must have gone to the walking paths." They sat in silence, watching in peace and contentment the Shire was blessed with as the birds chased each other home, and the skies darkened to dark sapphire of late evening.
Bilbo began to hum, but it was a different tune, more sad and melancholy. He focused on it and realized that the Hobbit was mumbling words under his breath. The words were foreign but it was so lilting and beautiful to hear. He edged closer.
"What was that Mr. Bilbo?"
"Elvish, my boy. The language of the Elves. Pleasant, is it not?" Bilbo stuffed more weed in his pipe, lit it and settled back for more smoking.
"Elves! You know their tongue!"
"Know it? I speak it and understand it! I know plenty of their songs too!"
"Is that why you go to meet them, Mr. Bilbo?" Sam asked eagerly.
He flushed when Bilbo turned to look at him, eyes piercing. He ducked his curly dark head and studied the ground between his furry feet, studiously following the pattern of an earthworm crawling back to its home in the cracks.
"So," said Bilbo softly. "I seem to have grown a little shadow during my nightly adventures. Tell me, did you see me with the Elves?"
"Oh, sir," stammered Sam. "I did! I did! But it was so far away that I could not see them very clearly but they had to be Elves, sir. No one could be that tall and-and-" the Hobbit-child searched for a word but found none, so he settled for a substitute, "Amazing, sir!"
Bilbo laughed softly at his enthused words.
"Well, Sam, my lad. I will tell Master Gildor what you thought of him. Say, my boy," He turned his brown eyes to peer down at the small child. "Do you wish to stay, hmm? Maybe even learn a bit of Elvish under me?"
"Me? But-but-" stuttered Sam, surprised at the offer. Then he looked down and whispered. "I don't even know my letters, sir."
"Don't know your letters!" Sam flushed at the elder Hobbit's exclamation. But there was no mockery in his words, only genuine surprise. "Well, we can't have that now, can we?" Mr. Bilbo said matter-of-factly.
"So, now, my boy. I can teach you your letters, eh? It will do you good in this world, knowing your letters. I will teach you, if you be so willing?" Sam stared at him in awe.
"Would you?" Asked Sam in surprise.
"Would I? Why, of course. In fact, me boy, do you have to be anywhere?"
"N-no sir," responded Sam.
"Then come in, come in!" Bilbo snuffed out his pipe and tucked in his little box containing smoke weed in his front jacket pocket. He got up and padded to his front door. "Come, we had better get started! Learning is no easy business, after all. I have fruits, cheese, seed cakes aplenty when you start feeling a bit peaky."
Sam, unable to believe his fortune, followed him inside.
oOo
The Wild,
Third Age.
"Who was Gil-galad?" asked Merry; but Strider did not answer, and seemed to be lost in thought. Suddenly a low voice murmured:
Gil-Galad was an Elven-king,
Of him the harpers sadly sing,
The last whose realm was fair and free,
Between the Mountains and the Sea.
His sword was long, his lance was keen,
His shining helm afar was seen,
The countless stars of heaven's field,
Were mirrored in his silver shield.
But long ago he rode away
And where he dwelt none can say
For into darkness fell his star
In Mordor where the shadows are.
The others turned in amazement, for the voice was Sam's.
"Don't stop!" said merry.
"That's all I know," stammered Sam, blushing. "I learned it from when I was a lad. He used to tell me tales like that, knowing how I was always one for hearing about Elves. It was Mr. Bilbo as taught me my letters. He was mighty book-learned was dear old Mr. Bilbo. And he wrote poetry. He wrote what I just said."
"He did not make it up." Said Strider. "It is part of the lay that is called The Fall of Gil-Galad, which is in ancient tongue. Bilbo must have translated it. I never knew that."
-(A Knife In The Dark, The Fellowship of the Ring)
Author's Note:
End part is taken from Tolkien's book Fellowship of the Ring, Chapter A Knife In The Dark, which inspired me to write this one-shot. This excerpt was one of my favorites of Sam, because I think we find a little bit more of his background with the Baggins as well as the fact how much he cherished his memories with them.
I always find Sam's personality sweet. He is like this rock, dependable and trustworthy. It is clear he was supposed to not only be a manservant but become a true hero on its own sense.
Smiley- Thank you. :)