Eternity and the Language of Flowers

Despite only knowing each other a few years, there was a special bond growing between Frodo and Sam. They spent a lot of time together, whether playing or picnicking or ‘adventuring’. Bilbo had noticed that Sam’s awe and wonder of everything around him was having a positive effect on his nephew, and to him it seemed that he was being given another chance to have his childhood, the one that was robbed of him when he was twelve.

Frodo thought nothing of chasing through muddy puddles with Sam to catch tiny little frogs, then take them all the way down to the Water. It meant that Bilbo had extra laundry to give Miss Clover, who was paid for how many garments there was to wash, but he knew that he wouldn’t have it any other way. “Better than him moping around the hole with his nose in a musty old book!” he muttered as he looked at another torn pair of breeches. He remembered with a smile, Frodo running through the door of Bag End breathless with laughter and exertion, trying to explain why half a trouser leg was dangling by a thread and why he had bite marks on his left calf.

Just then, Bilbo heard Sam’s cautious knock on the front door. He hurried to open it then looked down at the young boy. He had grown up a fair bit over the past year and at the age of twelve, was showing strong signs of the hobbit he would grow up to be. “Ah, Sam. I was thinking since it’s so hot outside today, maybe you and Frodo would like to spend the afternoon together. Out of doors. You could pack lunch and sit under the trees and then…well, whatever you feel like doing.”

Sam’s face fell slightly at the thought of missing a lesson, but then brightened with the prospect of spending the whole afternoon with his best friend. “Thank you, Mr Bilbo.”

“Please, come in. I shall let Frodo know you’re waiting for him.”

***

Sam insisted that he carried the picnic basket, and reluctantly allowed Frodo to take the blanket they were to sit on. They wandered along a little path that took them to the little copse about a mile from Bag End. Frodo had said how much he loved going to sit amongst the trees, with the little brook burbling happily and quietly nearby, skipping over and among the pebbles.

Reaching the copse, Frodo picked out his favourite spot under a large oak tree, where the sunshine shone through gently, dappled and warm. A mild breeze shifted the humid air around them enough to make sitting around still comfortable and relaxing.

As Frodo finished spreading the soft-woven blanket on the leaf-softened ground, Sam quickly began to unpack the feast, which Bilbo had helped to prepare. Ham and tomato sandwiches and soft cheese and watercress sandwiches, a block of mature yellow cheese, strawberry tarts and blackberry tarts and juicy red apples. They each carried a flask, Sam’s with apple juice and Frodo’s with ginger beer. Having unpacked everything, Sam handed Frodo a plate and smiled, his silent indication that Frodo could start his lunch.

“Well, if I’m going to start eating, shouldn’t you?” Frodo asked, hesitating to fill his plate.

Sam shook his head, curly hair waving slightly. “No, Mr Frodo, you take what you want first. That’s the way it goes.” The young hobbit was quick to remember what his gaffer had instilled into him, and implemented it as oft as he remembered. Which, in fear of being punished for not doing so, was most of the time.

“But…we’re friends, Sam. We can eat at the same time. Besides, if you wait ‘til I fill my plate, why, I may not leave you anything if I’m very hungry!”

Sam’s bottom lip stuck out slightly. Surely Mr Frodo wouldn’t eat all their food? Was he just –

“I’m teasing Sam, don’t look so worried! Here,” he passed him a couple of sandwiches. “Fill up. We’ve packed a lot, and I am sure Bilbo will not have us return with one crumb!”

After each ate their fill, they lay stretched out side-by-side on the blanket, drifting in and out of lazy summer slumbers, the little brook burbling only feet away. Sam cherished the feel of the sun on his face, feeling relaxed and even almost equal with the hobbit beside him. He lay to Frodo’s left, and opened his right eye just a tiny bit to peep at him. Frodo was in the midst of a happy dream, a small smile curving his lips and his eyelashes fluttering ever so slightly against his soft cheeks. Still Sam wondered if there was a bit of Elf in his friend. He wasn’t just attractive, like hobbit-attractive. He was beautiful, like mystical, elven beautiful. Sam clearly remembered seeing Frodo for the first time at Bag End and mistaking him for an elf. His father had later told him he was daft for thinking so, but Sam knew that Mr Bilbo didn’t think him daft or foolish, and Mr Frodo didn’t laugh at him for thinking it either.

Sam smiled to himself and closed his eyes, thinking how lucky he was to have someone like Frodo as his friend, and he drifted into his own dream.

Frodo was the first to awaken a short time later. Sitting up slowly, he stretched and yawned, looking down at the little lad still asleep. He was curled up in a ball like a kitten, thumb slightly inside his mouth. Frodo regretfully woke him up, shaking his shoulder gently. “Sam…come on, lad, time to wake up.” Sam slowly opened his eyes and struggled to move into a sitting position. “Hello, there! Shall we go looking for tadpoles now?” said Frodo, reminding Sam of one of their original plans.

Sam rubbed his eyes and nodded. “Mm-hm. What shall we do with the picnic stuff though, Mr Frodo?” He asked and began sleepily packing the (very few) leftovers and crockery into the basket.

“Oh, just leave them for the now, Sam! Come on, let’s have fun.”

Sam smiled and followed his friend.

***

After spending an exhausting hour collecting tadpoles and chasing small tiddlers in the stream, Frodo left Sam to return each one to their natural habitat while he packed away the picnic things. Sam lifted his head when he heard the clatter of plates being carelessly tossed into the basket. “Mr Frodo! You should have left that for me to deal with!”

In turn, Frodo lifted his head. He blinked a few times and brushed stray curls away from his eyes. "It's no problem, Sam, really. I don't mind tidying these things away. You carry on with what you're doing, and enjoy yourself."

Sam quickly emptied the remaining amphibians from his hands into the water and scampered back to Frodo, who had finished packing and now sat on the blanket, watching Sam. "Are we going home now?" He asked sadly.

Frodo smiled and shook his head. "No, I'm sitting here thinking up a new game for us to play. Bilbo said we needn't be back until dinner time, which gives us at least a couple of hours yet." Frodo lapsed into silence as he thought through various options.

Sam shifted his weight from one foot to the other for a few minutes then sat down near the older hobbit and looked at him curiously. "We could play hide an' seek, if you'd like," he started shyly. "Or-or, hide and seek, but where one person hides somethin' and themselves and then the counter has to find both. Me and my brother Ham play that with Daisy and May sometimes." Frodo had shifted his attention from his toes to his companion, who was looking down and tracing patterns on the blanket with his fingers.

"What are the rules for that game then, Sam?" Frodo asked, and shuffled closer to his young friend.

"Oh! Uhm…well, I hide somethin', like-like a fancy stone, then I hide too, away from the…thing. Then you have to find me and the thing. But if you find the thing before you find me, then the game's over anyway. It usually works better with more people, though." He finished quietly.

"Well, then! Shall we go and find a particularly special stone to use?" Frodo could now remember playing this version of hide-and-seek with some younger relatives at Brandy Hall a few years ago, just before he moved to Hobbiton, actually. It had been a cold and stormy April afternoon, and the teachers and nannies were at the end of their tether. They had spent much of the morning chasing after numerous Brandybucks and Tooks and Bracegirdles. The final straw had been when young Meriadoc, then six, threw Mentha's teddy bear across the length of the living room - a surprisingly long throw for a child - and knocked a prized vase from the mantelpiece. 'Oh-ohhh - I'm tellin', Merry!' had rung out from various children around the room. Frodo had rescued the little Brandybuck, tidied the mess then suggested playing a different game, to which they all agreed.

Then Merry decided that game would be the New Hid and Seek, and they spent the remainder of the afternoon hunting high and low for Mentha's teddy, and with easy and quick results. However, when it was Merry's turn to hide the teddy, the game ended, and sourly. As he had taken to exploring the somewhat dirtier parts of Brandy Hall, Merry tucked the bear away up the chimney/flue of the least used room in the entire hole, which also happened to be the furthest away from the playroom and surrounding area where they were playing that day.

"Will this stone do, Mr Frodo?" Sam's soft voice broke Frodo's daydreaming, and he turned around to face the younger hobbit. He took the stone Sam offered, and looked at it closely. It was pale, off-white but with a pinkish tinge, and had tiny veins of light red and dark blue threaded through it. Sam had fancied that it looked a bit like a heart, and Frodo now viewed it with the same mind. The stone was almost bigger than Sam's small palm, but it fit snugly into Frodo's older and larger one. "Yes, I think it's perfect."

Sam peeked carefully through the rough shrubs, eyes darting and ears alert to the slightest noise. He crept stealthily through the small woods, his feet barely making a sound as he moved about, taking his turn in looking for Frodo.

They had been playing for some time now and Sam was beginning to tire of the game slightly. But as he carefully stepped over a rotten branch, his eye caught sight of a heart-shaped stone. He blinked and bent to pick it up. It was the stone they were playing with - this meant he had won his turn without even finding Frodo! He carefully examined it for a long moment, to be sure this was the stone. But it had to be - it was very unique. Sam had never seen another stone like this before, which was why he had picked it up to start with.

Frodo peered through foliage of the tree he hid in. What was Sam doing? He was standing turning something over in his hands. Shifting impatiently, Frodo was about to call out to Sam, when Sam called out to him.

“Mr Frodo! I’ve found the stone, so…you’ll have to come out now. Mr Frodo?” Sam looked around him.

Before he could speak, Frodo slipped and began to tumble headfirst out of the tree. Dropping the stone, Sam looked up quickly then gasped in surprise and covered his eyes, waiting either for a thump as Frodo hit the ground, or to be squished as Frodo landed on him. After a couple of seconds, Sam was aware neither had happened, and he peered through his fingers. Still three branches above him, Frodo dangled perilously, his green cotton shirt holding onto a broken branch for dear life as he swayed to and fro, arms folded in irritation. "It would appear that I'm having some difficulty in escaping this tree, Sam.”

“Oh, uhm.…” Sam scratched his forehead in puzzlement. “Could you--swing over and grab a branch…?”

“Well…I could try…” Frodo began wiggling slightly. Of a sudden, the material of his shirt gave way. With a shriek, Frodo came tumbling down the last few feet of the tree, landing with a solid thud beside his shocked friend. “Ohh…”

“Mr Frodo! Oh, are you alright?” Sam gasped and knelt at Frodo’s side. “Are you hurt? Can you move?”

Frodo rolled onto his back and propped himself up on his elbows. He wiggled his toes. “I’m alright, thank you. No, I’m not hurt.…I can move.”

Sam nodded. Then shifted slightly. “Beggin’ your pardon, sir, but I think I won that turn.” He held out the stone. “I found this nearby.”

Frodo sighed, admitting defeat and stood up. Then his hand brushed against something in his pocket. He frowned as he remembered that he had never hidden the stone. “But I have the stone here in my pocket…”Sam shook his head, also got to his feet. “Beggin’ your pardon again, Mr Frodo, but you can’t have, ‘cos I have the stone here.” He held out his hand and Frodo looked closely at it.

“But…that-that’s impossible! I have it right here! I didn’t hide it because…well…and…” Frodo cleared his throat. “So, that stone you have can’t be the right one. Look.” He held out his hand and showed Sam the stone he held.

They were identical.

Sam’s eyes widened impossibly. “Oh…they’re the *exact* same! But…I’ve never seen any stone like this before today.” He paused, then laughed a bit. “Oh, Mr Frodo - there must be a lot of these kind of stones in this wood, that’s the only reason.”

Frodo continued turning his stone over in his hand. “No…I’ve never seen one before.”

“Beg your pardon, sir?”

“Sam, this is an Elven Heart-Stone. When you found that one…I mean this one,” he held up the one he had. “When you found this, I didn’t think anything of it but…that’s two now, which would make sense. These stones are usually found in two’s, because...Oh, it’s silly really.”

Sam continued to stare at Frodo, waiting for him to carry on with the story. “These are only meant for…they’re given as wedding gifts. Exchanged with or instead of rings. I…I guess it’s a culture thing.” Frodo shrugged. “I remember Bilbo told me about it, years ago. As a bedtime story, or something, when he visited.”

Sam looked at his stone. “What should we do with these, then?”

Frodo thought deeply before giving an answer. “I guess we should put them back where we found them.”

“But I found them both.”

“Hmm, yes.” Frodo smiled and looked up. “Well, you know where you found it, so you may as well take this one and put it back….roughly.…where you found it. I’ll take this one and put it back, as it’s just around here anyway.”

Sam nodded. “Yes, I found that one just over there.” He pointed. “I can remember where I found this one….I…I’ll be back soon, Mr Frodo.”

Making sure that Frodo couldn't see him, Sam stopped a little distance away and looked again at the stone he still held. Instead of placing it back to be half-hidden by the soft earth, Sam wrapped it in his handkerchief and placed it carefully in his coat pocket.

As soon as Sam had disappeared through the trees and brushwood, Frodo stared longingly at the precious heart-shaped stone. Since Bilbo had told him the tale about the Elven Heart Stones, Frodo, then only fourteen, had regularly scoured the woodland areas for such a stone. His only problem had been who to give the other one to when he found them. He could give one to Bilbo, he supposed, but Bilbo lived miles and miles away in Hobbiton. He asked Bilbo why they were so hard to find and Bilbo said you couldn't just look for them; they were a blessing from the Powers, and often to the First-Born or those of their bloodline. They had to come to you (or be given to you, as it were), and the one you loved. Then he asked why Bilbo never mentioned them in his stories, and the given answer was that they were never mentioned in tales, as they were private, intimate entities for the two persons involved only. The legend of the Stones was rarely documented in history. Frodo sighed and resigned himself to the fact that he wouldn't find one right now and would have to wait until he was older, if he would be that lucky at all.

And now he had one, sitting in his hand, and he had to put it back. 'The irony of it all. I have no one to love enough that I would exchange it with them. But why did it come to me? Or rather, Sam...Is it for…Maybe I should keep it…Maybe I will find someone who also has one later in life…' With that thought in his mind, Frodo took a breath and made his decision, stuffing the object into a pocket and silently praying that he hadn't deprived some other soul of their Heart-Stone.

Once again settled on their picnic blanket, Frodo and Sam sat playing a game of 'I-spy'."…Something beginning with…hmm."

"Hmm? Which letter is that, Mr Frodo?"

"Hmm? Oh, sorry Sam, I was thinking. We may have spied everything there is to spy around here." He wriggled against the bark of the tree they leaned against. "Oh - I see something - it starts with R."

Sam immediately searched carefully with his bright eyes, muttering the letter 'R' under his breath. "R-r…rabbit? No, can't be, he'd be gone by now…Rrr-r…re-ri-ra…oh! Rainbow!" he stood up and pointed at the patch of sky between the trees. "It's a rainbow!"

Frodo stood up as well. "Yes, it's a rainbow. It must be raining a few miles north of here. I hope it doesn't move this far south."

"Is it true what Mr Bilbo says about there bein' treasure beside a rainbow?" Sam looked up earnestly at Frodo.

"I'd like to think so…" he replied softly. "But I don't think Bilbo meant gold or gemstones or precious metals…"

Sam frowned slightly and looked at the now fading rainbow. "Ah. Ohhh…" he mumbled. Turning his attention back to Frodo, he asked, “What did he mean then, sir?”

Frodo turned to Sam and reached out a hand to brush soft, brown curls from his friend’s gentle, enquiring face. “I think he meant treasure that you hold close to your heart. Your family and friends; your dreams and hopes. Your rainbow and your pot of gold is that which you cherish most. No-one can take them away from you, Sam. Don’t you ever let anyone try to tell you otherwise. Rainbows and treasures have long been associated with the weather, and perhaps there once was an element of truth in the legend…But I think that rainbows are just your dreams….”

“Ohh.…So, do you have a rainbow, Mr Frodo?”

Frodo shrugged. “Maybe. Once. I think, however, they faded some years ago.”

“What? Will my rainbows - my dreams - fade away, too?”

Shaking his head emphatically, Frodo replied quickly. “No, I doubt it, Sam. Everything changed for me when my parents died. I have forgotten how to dream. I do not doubt you will ever forget how to dream, dear friend.”

“But Mr Bilbo says you’s always dreamin’, Mr Frodo.”

“No - only day-dreaming, which can simply mean becoming lost in your thoughts, as it means for me.”

Sam picked at the lint on his worn off-white shirt. “Gaffer says I’m always day-dreamin’. Says I’ll become so distracted with m’thougths, one day I’ll end pullin’ up Mr Bilbo’s pansies, or plantin’ taters with the roses…when I’ve been learnt how to plant taters, I mean.”

“Not a thing wrong with day-dreaming, Sam. What sort of things are you thinking of when you drift away?” Frodo watched as his young friend blushed slightly and became fascinated with picking the fluff on his shirt.

“Just silly things, sir,” he mumbled.

“Will you want to tell me what kind of ‘silly things’? I’m sure I’ve thought sillier things, you know.”

Sam contemplated this for a moment, then nodded. “I sometimes wonder if the elves visit hobbits, and if I’ll ever see ‘em if they do…or if I’ll be too busy workin’. Sometimes, I think what it would be like to be able to read things as you an’ Mr Bilbo do, or play games more of’en than I get to. Sometimes I wish I was a lot older so’s I could…be with you more of’en…and do more things with you. I keep forgettin’, when I’m dreamin’, that you and Mr Bilbo are more important and only need me and gaffer to do for the garden, and stuff.…”

Frodo shuffled his feet uncomfortably. Sam was terribly young to know so much about…. status. It irritated Frodo often to receive such preferential treatment, because of his name, and he also wondered how many people were friendly with him because of his stature and connections.

But Sam was one of the few he felt properly comfortable with, and cherished his friendship. He had hoped Sam knew that Frodo appreciated him and was fond of him, though it now seemed this was not the case. “Sam…you *are* important. I’ve never told you before just how important you are - at least to me. You’ve made me feel so at home in such a strange place, and you’ve cheered me up and kept me company. You’ve grown so much since we first met…the changes I can see astound me. You’re going to be such a wonderful and strong hobbit. You’re everything a hobbit should be. I wouldn’t worry about not being older. We can still do things together - spend days like this, listen to Bilbo’s stories.…we can grow up together. I….I know that there’s what some people call…a ‘class difference’ between us, but Sam, I honestly do not let that colour our friendship – or any of my friendships – in any way. As far as I’m concerned you’re….well, you do a different job from me. And more useful, I may add. You grow things, care for things, and you enjoy it. Me, well, all I do is read all day. Oh, it’s confusing to work out. I appreciate you so very much, and I am glad we are friends. You are worth your weight in gold, Sam. Which would make you as valuable to those around as your dreams are to yourself.”

Sam smiled up at Frodo, showing a small gap between two teeth where one had fallen out the day before, and moved forward to hug him. Frodo met him half way and wrapped his arms around the little hobbit. “Come on, now. Let’s go back to Bag End. We’ll have supper together and I’ll tell you one of Bilbo’s faery-tales.”

***

“Well, lads, did you have a pleasant afternoon? What sort of mischief did you get up to, hmm?” Bilbo hopped around the kitchen, throwing together a hasty supper for the three hungry hobbits.

“Well, we did not leave a crumb for the birds to have of the picnic, Uncle. We’ve napped, and talked, caught tadpoles and played hide-and-seek.…”

“Oh, aye, that sounds like you’ve had a busy afternoon then…you’ll be ready for bed as soon as you’ve had supper then, early though it is.”

“Well, I was hoping to tell Sam a couple of faery-tales before he went home for the evening…”

“Aye, you do that, lad, I’ll be meeting Ham at the Green Dragon in an hour or so. He didn’t appear to be too keen to….socialize with me, but I talked him around, after saying we could make it a business meeting and discuss the garden, and all that. I think Ham likes to keep his professional front when he’s dealing with me…although he’s a lot more relaxed now than he was six or seven years ago. Ah, now then - to the dining room, boys: supper will be brought through in just a moment!”

Sam moved forward to help Bilbo with the supper trays. “No, no, Sam, you go and sit down beside Frodo - I can manage with this.” Reluctantly, Sam followed Frodo into the next room.

After a grand supper - at least to Sam - including sardines on buttered toast and sticky jam rolls, all washed down with tea (or warm milk, for Sam), Bilbo excused himself and got ready to go out for the evening.

Once he had left, after Hamfast came to meet and accompany him down to the Inn, Frodo and Sam settled themselves on the sofa in the living room, ready for an evening of magical stories.

“Come on, you can sit a bit closer.” Frodo pulled Sam towards him and covered them both with a cozy blanket. “Now then. Shall I begin with a tale of elves, and of lost treasure and dragons?”

“Oh, yes, please, Mr Frodo!” Just the answer Frodo had expected. With a smile, the two friends tucked into each other as the story unfolded…

When Bilbo returned home much later that night, Sam had not returned to Bagshot Row. In fact, as the old hobbit pattered through the rooms of Bag End, extinguishing lamps and candles, he came across the two young hobbits, so curled into each other, he could hardly distinguish between them.

He smiled fondly at them, his dear nephew, and the little gardener. Lying the full length of the sofa, using it as an impromptu bed, blanket half-over and half-off. They slept facing toward each other, Sam sucking his thumb amid his peaceful dreams, with the fingers of his left hand threaded loosely through Frodo’s dark curls, while Frodo had thrown an arm around his companion, a gesture both protective and possessive.

Bilbo stooped to pick the blanket from the floor, and tucked it around their shoulders. He would leave them there to sleep as long as the wished, unwillingly to disturb them. But Ham would be wondering where Sam was.

Taking a last look at the sleeping hobbits, Bilbo headed out into the clear starlit night, down the road to the Row…


~End, part 4~