Chapter Four: Concerning Sam

"Hurry up there, Sam my lad." Hamwise called.

It seemed to Sam that he was always being told to hurry, with little care for what manner it was that he hurried in.

As a young lad he had been pinned as clumsy, though in his mind his fumbles had been caused by trying to keep up with those who tread much faster. Besides, he did not like to run very much, for he always felt as if he would be missing something. It showed not only in the times he was forced to move, but in his every day life as well. For each time he walked from his home at Bagshot Row, he would take the time to enjoy everything he passed- the smell of the violets and hyacinths, the clean, plain air in his throat, and even the warm gravel beneath his feet. When he walked, he would feel all of these things, though he kept his head down most of the time (for it was his wish to watch what was happening on the ground). Sometimes he would find things requiring attention- often a snail on the road, that he would lift it with gentle fingers, and place where it would be safe. Sometimes there would be a weed that had grown into the edge of a garden, and in these times he would always bend and pluck the thing.

But today he could not do such things (though he moved at about the same speed for he was weighed down with all of supplies -pots, spades, small sacks of good earth, strong trimmers and lunch). He hurried after his gaffer, swaying from one side to the next as he ran. He was young, then, barely a tween, and his gaffer had decided it was about time he took up the family business. As he hurried down the street, his supplies clinking and clacking against each other, he began to bring on somewhat of an audience. A few younguns who had nothing else to do, and a few gaffers and gammers who had nothing else to keep them entertained, walked out to the front of their gates and watched him go by.

Sam had lived on Bagshot row for all of his life, and knew everyone who lived in Bywater (either by face, or by company). Suffice to say, everyone in Bywater knew him. Whatever his business was, was their business too, and they were surely not to miss it.

"That Ham Gamgee's boy is going to be up at Bag End this week." One hobbit had muttered to another, the night beforen "Going to take up gardening for Mr Baggins."

"Tooken long enough." Another answered, removing his pipe from his hard lips "Had two lads already what should have done that! Ha, that's what happens when you give up yer gaffer's work! Yer sons do the same."

"Ah, watch your tongue!" the first hobbit laughed "He's a better gardener than a ropemaker, that's for sure. Better he be doing good round here, than he be supplying us all with ropes what fray and unravel."

But whatever fame he had acquired in the weekly gossip went unnoticed to Sam who was merely excited to be allowed to work.

"Now, Sam, my lad. It's important that you learn what flowers are what."

"I know that." He replied, proudly "Those there are violets, and those-"

But the gaffer would not let him finish "Maybe you know how to name them, but do you know what the flowers are for?"

And here Sam grew quiet.

"Y'see, my lad. These flowers aren't just for looking nice. They do different things." The gaffer kneeled down and gently took the leaves of some choice plants, naming them, proudly "These here are snapdragons. They're for strength…and these. These are asters- for patience. Dahlias for dignity. Irises for wisdom. You have to keep the flowers balanced, just like the owner of the garden should be balanced." He moved a bit and drew forward a white-petal blossom "This…this is my favourite one. A lily. It's for clarity, purity, goodness and decency. So long as it blooms, it keeps away evil.

Now then, go give it a go."

The day had started off fine, with much excitement, but when hours had passed and the noon-day sun had come into the sky, Sam felt more tired and hot than anything. He was dirty and his clothes were soaked with sweat. Whatsmore, his fingers burned from pulling at the rose-vines.

"Don't you have any sort of blade I could use?" he asked his gaffer, as he sucked on his bloody finger.

"Blades are for folk who don't know how to garden." Answered Hamwise "You take a blade to these roses and you'll never win their hearts! Blades and trimmers are only for the hedges and trees- they're made of tougher stuff. Y'see, Sam, plants and flowers are very fragile. They deserve as much care as children. Tend to them with patience and hard work, and give them all that they deserve- never cut them down with a blade or you'll only be cutting down their gladness for you! No matter how painful it seems." He pointed at his bleeding hands "just keep on going and eventually they'll go the way you want them to."

And Sam tried once more, but his back ached and he sighed with remorse. He wanted to give up, though he would not say so. But the Gaffer knew him better than anyone else, and could tell what was on his mind.

"Stick to it, Sam." The elder chided, "Whatever you put into it, you'll get out of it."

"What can I get out of it!?" Sam asked, though he did not mean his words to sound so selfish "Folk will only see the garden. They never really think about the work that goes into it."

"No, don't think they do. But that's just it. We're simple, folk, Sam. We shouldn't be thought about. Nah, the greater thing is the garden and the flowers we plant. Not us. Work your hardest on the garden and take care of it as best as you can. Let people admire its beauty, and don't ask for any of that admiration yourself. Just do all you can to keep it beautiful- remember, you're the hand behind it!"

And Sam nodded, suddenly feeling ashamed of his prior discontent. Without a complaint, he turned back to the roses.

It did not take him long to find a way to turn and trim them without cutting himself, and as the air began to cool, he felt himself grow in greater love for his work and for his garden. He smiled as he sat back, looking at the thing that now moved gracefully along the trelace. In that moment, he decided that the peach roses were his favourite flowers, for even though they were not as stunning as the white ones, they were guided by him, and more familiar to him. Besides he thought They are both soft and sensible. Pretty, but not so beautiful that they must be kept away from all elements! That is just right for me.

"Gaffer Gamgee!" called a familiar voice from the road at Bagshot Row "Is Sam still there?"

"Aye, lass! Still here!"

"Can he come down?" It was a lad this time, and Sam wrinkled his nose at the sound.

"You'd be better to come up here."

And the three hobbits made their way up the steps, stopping before they reached the garden for courtesy to the owner.

"…where is he?"

"Hiding, I figure." The Gaffer answered, not lifting his eyes from his work "Sam! You've got company!"

Sam let his head rise up from behind a small bush. He was covered in soil from toe to brow but had not yet learned to take pride in such things.

"Why Samwise Gamgee." Laughed Nick Cotton "You look'asif you've been caught in a chimney!"

Sam grinned, though he seemed embarrassed. He wasn't sure to say, or what to do (but he was sure it would not be to look at Rosie).

"Hullo, Sam." She smiled, "You look good today."

Jolly laughed "Come on then, lad, we've stopped by for lunch- and we've brought you a good deal from the farm. You too, Gaffer Gamgee. Can you take leave of the roots for a while to eat with us?"

With some help from Sam, the Gaffer came to a stand and made his way over to the three other hobbits. It was true that Nick and Jolly were far from clean, but next to the gardeners they seemed to be freshly bathed. And Rosie herself looked as if she had spent the day in the kitchen rather than out in the fields (as was probably the case), and she held in her hands a basket of lunch- apple dumplings, coney soup and plum pie.

The five sat around for a while, sipping soup from their bowls and eating their piece. Sam had brought cheese and bread- originally enough for him and his gaffer, but with the new food, good enough to share.

"You'll be wanting to know how your Sam's doing, eh, Rose?" laughed the Gaffer Gamgee, interrupting his speech with a bite of cheese.

"I think we all want to know!" laughed Jolly "Come on, then, tell us. Has he done anything spectacular?"

"Spectacular enough. Cut up his hands, he has." Nick nudged Sam a bit as he said this "How'd you do that? The violets a little sharp?"

Sam sniffed and wiped his dirty face "Nah, it's them roses."

"Yeh, you have to watch those." Nick grinned, cheekily "Roses can be such a bother!"

"Shush, you." Rosie mumbled "I didn't spend all day cooking so you can insult me."

"Ah, you cooked this, lass? Your gammer's done a great good thing, teaching you!" The gaffer nodded "I didn't realize how old you've grown. Cooking already- imagine!"

"That's what mum said." Jolly mumbled through a mouthful of food "Started crying soon as she finished folding the apple dumplings. Nibs told her 'mum, you're being embarassing' but then that just made her cry more."

"Ah! You should be kind to that gammer of yours!" the Gaffer Gamgee chided "She's the one what cares for you. And one day she won't be here!"

Sam knew that all too well. His gammer had passed when he was very young, though it was said he had taken most after her. She was sensitive and shy 'a sweeter lass I never saw' his gaffer would say 'beautiful and pale as a lily with eyes the colour of wheat." Sam couldn't remember any of these things, but only broken fragments of memories- the feeling of her apron against his muddy face, her plump hands around his body, the smacking of cabinet drawers when she was preparing dinner, and the smell of the coney soup she used to make. It was her favourite dish, and she cooked it as often as they could afford the meat. In that way, it had become Sam's favourite too.

"The soup's very good, Rose." He managed, though he kept his head down; he was always shyer when others were around "You even put taters in it like my gammer used to do."

"No other way to make it." She blushed.

Sam smiled and nodded affectionately as the Gaffer turned to Jolly.

"Where's your brother, Tom, at?" he asked.

"Working. He has his head in the fields most days now. Seems he's trying to prove something. Don't really know what."

"Ah, well best not to bother him. Rather he's working than bothering my Mari."

"Bothering?"

"Aye. He hovers about our garden waiting for her to come out. Sometimes he'll speak to me, but I know why he's there."

"What does Mari think of it?" asked Nick.

Rosie knew the answer, but she waited for the gaffer to respond.

"Aye, she's as usual a lass as any. Wants to see him, but I told her 'no.' Nothing against your brother, but I'd rather she be focused on her siblings- at least for now. It's good for Tom, too. Don't fancy your gaffer'd be too happy with him always off with Mari. A lad's work is even more important- if he won't do the work who else will?"

Sam shifted uncomfortably and bit into his piece of bread "Tom's a good soul." He said "And a gentler hobbit I haven't met. Even if he has to work…I wouldn't want to see Mari with anyone else. I-if she's not allowed to see him, then maybe she'll turn her eyes to another lad. And it's not that that's wrong on her part…or that she shouldn't be able to fancy another…but we already know we can trust Tom. He's very fond of her, and will take care of her. She'll be in good hands."

"Aye," Rosie agreed "Tom's very kind, and responsible too. He wouldn't let her interfere with his work, either. And if he does, then he'll have the four of us to make it up for him."

The Gaffer Gamgee wrinkled his nose as Sam disagreed with him and then Rosie followed. Normally his son was one to keep quiet and do what he was told- but he knew why he was protesting today, and could read the words behind what he said.

"Your sister won't fancy another. At least not for a while." He mumbled through a mouthful of food "It's not that I can't trust Tom. It's that it's better for the two of them not to see each other for now. You never know." And here he turned to Sam "Sam, you're a good lad. If anyone's following any of your sisters, you come up straight and tell me.

That includes Rose." And here he turned to the lass "You and your brothers are like children to me, and I won't see any lad causing you trouble."

Rosie blushed "No one's causing me trouble. But I'll be sure to tell you if ever that changes." And here she smiled at Sam who had not yet learned to look away.

The Gaffer Gamgee laughed, wondering how they all thought him so dim. What words he last uttered had been for the sake of watching his children's faces.

His seeming desire to keep Tom and Mari apart stemmed from nothing less than the knowledge that when young ones are separated they fall all the more in love for the very idea of each other's presences. Yes, indeed, he was not so slow. And he had once been young and in love. Yes he thought Mari will be very happy with Tom. And when the time comes, my Sam will be very happy with Rose.

He and Tom Cotton (senior) had known of such affairs since their children had been old enough to blush. As such, the dear Gaffer Gamgee had began to think of both Tom and Rosie as children of his own. Though it was true he was close to the other Cotton children, he had a special affection for those he knew would soon be his own.

But even within that realm, he had loved Rosie in a different way from her brother- with the dearness and care of a daughter deserving. But it was not of only her herself. For each time that he saw her, he thought of his own Sam and how happy she would make him. It was true the two could have been the same (if one were just a tad more shy, and the other were a tad less prone to lecturing) but it was in their differences that they completed each other.

And each time he met with the lass he felt his heart grow glad, for from the day he was born, the Gaffer wanted nothing less than happiness for his son. He was a wise hobbit, and he knew that love was one of those things that the poor could afford more than the rich. Yes he thought, seeing Sam's own gaze in Rosie's She will be good for him.

"The three of you better get going. Mr Bilbo's out but he'll be returning soon with his nephew."

"…Nephew?" asked Jolly, somewhat out of the pub-gossip.

"Aye. His nephew- Frido…or Brido. Something very strange like that." And here he leaned in closer, ushering his company to do the same "They say his parents had gone off boating and got into some sort of accident."

"Accident?"

"Aye. Dangerous boating's not something you'd expect from a Baggins. But then, his mum's a Brandybuck."

The younger hobbits nodded in response, but Rosie bit her lip.

"Gaffer Gamgee, do you think it would be possible for Sam to come to our smial today? I was hoping he'd be able to help me start dinner- we're out of wood…and with my brothers out in the fields…"

Sam sat up and looked about ready to pledge his life, but The Gaffer shook his head "I'm sorry, Rose. But Sam's working now. He can't just drop everything to be with you anymore."

Rosie had been smiling, but now it faded "But it's only his first day. Couldn't you…"

"Nah, lass. Sam here's got to learn the good of a hard day's work. Isn't that right, my lad?"

Sam stared down at the ground to avoid looking at either of them "Aye."

"Thank you again for lunch, lass. Send my thanks to your gammer!" and here he turned to Nick "You be nice to her! A lad what can't appreciate his gammer's a gaffer who can't appreciate his wife!"

Nick nodded as he began to gather up the remnants of lunch. The two lads seemed ready to go, but Rosie hovered.

"S-Sam…when do you think you'll be able to come visit us?" she asked.

The lad didn't answer, but turned to look at his gaffer for a response.

"His birthday's tomorrow." He answered "He can do what he likes that day. After that, you'll be able to see him Sundays and Monday mornings. So long as he's got all his work done."

"I'll come see you," Sam muffled while he dug his hands into his pockets "Any time you want me to."

But he didn't. For after that day something changed and as the months went by, they saw each other less and less. At first the excuses came from too much work, or commitments to other relatives. But while this was the truth for a time, it was not so forever.

Mr Bilbo's nephew had come from Brandy Hall, and had no friends in Hobbiton. And while he had not at first taken to Sam, the two had developed a strange kind of friendship. It was not one of casuality or of comfort that he had had with the Cottons (or that Frodo had had with his cousins), but they saw each other more than anyone else (for the garden at Bag End required much work), and in a few months time they had become regular customers at the Green Dragon.

Mr Frodo's was a strange situation, for though the Gaffer Gamgee seemed sure he had just moved to Bag End, he had lived there for some time. He had mourned a great many years for the passing of his parents, and then the separation from his dearest cousins Meriadoc and Peregrin, and so desired to stay inside or to sit far off in the fields where no one would speak to him. Yet when he finally emerged from his smial-dwelling, news of such behaviour had not really surprised anyone (though it made for good gossip). His uncle had been known for stranger things, and it was almost a given that he should do the same.

But the unspoken separation between Sam and Rosie grew and grew, so that after a time neither of the two could be sure of each other's affections. Both had grown in shyness, and the belief that they were no longer wanted by the other. Rosie for Sam's excuses. Sam for a different reason.

As a young lass, Rosie had taken very much in the image of her brothers. She had run with them, swam with them, hopped and dug in the mud with them. What care she had, she put into imagining and planning dirt wars. And what prettiness she had was obscured by all the filth and ruddiness. But Sam had never really seen that, for he had loved her at an age when one couldn't tell a beauty from a brute.

When things began to change and she had grown a face to fit her teeth, and a body to fit her arms; when the scent of the river had given way to the gentle aroma of cranberry pies and apple jelly, Sam began to see in her a beauty that he had never known before. Other lads disagreeing with him had never crossed his mind, and he could only stare at his own self with a feeling of sadness.

"Keep your head in with the potatoes and cabbages, my lad"

"Never hope to be like your betters!'

In his mind, he had put Rosie far too high above him. And himself far below where he really was. For all of his good qualities, he could only see the bad things that were said- he was clumsy, and dim, and perhaps a tad too round. He had seen that much more when he begun to spend more time with Mr. Frodo (who was anything but). And for whatever shame his master had unknowingly put him too, his cousins did worse. For Mr. Peregrin and Mr. Meriadoc were gentle-hobbits of the greatest birth- one the son of a thain, and the other destined to be the Master of Buckland.

For the first time in his life, Sam had seen how ordinary he was. He no longer thought to speak to Rosie.

But the poor lass did not know this, and she saw things differently. To her, Sam had become involved with gentle-hobbits, and learned to better himself. In the same way she had put herself far below and her Samwise far too high, so that between the two of them they could not speak for the distance both ways was much too great.

And so it happened that they became as they were- conversing seldom and never going out of their ways to meet each other. But for whatever separation this caused them, it was nothing compared to what separation was to come.