Eternity and the Language of Flowers

In the early winter of 1396, Sam’s sixteenth year, Hamfast Gamgee found that his limbs were now failing him and protested at the strain of working in Bag End. He was 70, and still had many years in him, but the joints and muscles were demanding rest after more than 50 years of labour.

Now Sam found himself walking the short distance to Bag End every morning by himself, distracted by the many views of Hobbiton as he sauntered along.

Granted, there had been slight disagreements about Sam taking on the job at such a tender age, but after a couple weeks, Sam proved himself as able as one with an extra ten or more year’s experience.

This day however, Sam was puttering around in his own kitchen, as most work for Bag End had been tied up for the long winter. Still he would go up to the hole in the Hill, asking if there were any jobs needing done, or if Mr Bilbo or Mr Frodo needed anything from the market.

As Yule was fast approaching, Sam was making long lists of everything he would need to keep the family going. Markets did not operate over the Yule fortnight, so it was a fool hobbit who neglected to stock up for this time.

“Right, Da, I’m off to market. Callin’ by Mr Bilbo first, of course. Got to make sure they’re all safe and snug up there over Yule…”

“Aye, lad, and make sure there’s plenty o’ firewood for ‘em, too,” the Gaffer called from his chair by the fire. He turned to his son. “And make sure *you* get wrapped up warm afore you go trampin’ around Hobbiton. Do you have your list?”

“Yes, sir.” Sam waved his carefully hand-written note in front of his father.

“Aye, well, off wi’ye.” The Gaffer waved his pipe dismissively and smiled crookedly at the hastily retreating figure.

Sam knocked on the large green door of Bag End and stepped back. He noticed that a small pane of glass was cracked and partly missing in the corner, most likely because of the hard frost they’d been getting recently. He made a mental note to fix that up before the Yule holiday and turned his attention back to the door, which was now half-open.

“Good morning, Samwise! How are you this fine, if a bit chilly, day? Your father keeping well?”

“Good mornin’, Mr Bilbo. Gaffer’s keepin’ well right now, thank you for asking, sir.”

“Well, do come in, Sam. Wouldn’t want you to fall ill over the festive period.” Bilbo pulled the young hobbit indoors and closed the door with a thud. “Now, what brings you up here this day?”

“Well, sir, I’ve got here a list of things we’ll be needing over Yule. To keep us well fed and stocked up, if you take my meaning.” Sam held up his list. “And, well, I was wonderin’ if there was anythin’ you and Mr Frodo would be needing. I’m goin’ down to the market jus’ now, so I can pick up any bits and bobs you might want.”

“Why, thank you, Sam! That is a very good point. I don’t suppose you would help me whip up our own list? You can have a look through the pantry and storerooms and take inventory of them; I’ll ask Frodo if there is anything in particular he may want.”

“Yes, Mr Bilbo, sir.”

Just as Sam had started for the first storeroom, Bilbo turned around with a short exclamation and beckoned Sam back over.

“I’m sorry, Sam, I’ve only just remembered, how careless of me. Frodo and I will be in Buckland over Yule, and shall be returning mid-Afteryule. So it’s likely that we won’t need much, just enough to tide us over the few days when we return.”

“Yes, Mr Bilbo. When will you be leaving?”

“I’d imagine in three day’s time, Sam.” The old hobbit shook his head. “I’m getting very forgetful. We shall most likely require your assistance. But we wish, more than anything, to have you accompanying us to Brandy Hall for a holiday.” He put his hands on his hips and studied Sam for a few moments. “You work very hard for us, Sam. Clear it with your Gaffer, and return here this afternoon, if you please, to let me know of your plans. But after you’ve done your own chores, mind. You’d best be getting down to the market now.”

“Y-yes, Mr Bilbo.” Sam stuttered. His dark brown eyes were still huge and wide with Bilbo’s request - that he, Samwise Gamgee, was to accompany them to Brandy Hall, and stay there over Yule!

***

Laden down with his goods and supplies, Sam shuffled through the front door of Number 3. Marigold bounced over to help him and took several parcels from his arms. “Dear Sam! I shan’t think we’ll starve this Yule! Oh, you’ve been buyin’ presents, too! Is this mine?”

Sam laughed as he dropped his burden in the kitchen. “No, not that one. No, I’m not tellin’ you what it is!” He started putting away the provisions as Marigold kept up her chattering, occasionally handing something to her older brother.

After finding a home for everything and hiding the presents for his family, Sam moved slowly back through to the parlour where Hamfast sat. “Da’?”

“Aye, what?”

Sam took a seat opposite his father and watched him carefully for a few moments, trying to gauge his mood. Not that it mattered; he would have to tell his dad his news from Mr Bilbo at any rate, since they were due to leave quite soon. Indeed, leaving for almost a month in three day’s time. He took a deep breath and came straight out with it.

“Mr Bilbo wants me to go with him and Mr Frodo to Buckland, over Yule.”

The Gaffer looked up. His second youngest stood before him, scarf twisted between his fingers nervously, a flicker of hope in his dark, reflective eyes. ‘You are so much like your mother…’ he thought. ‘Eyes…gentle nature…determination…’

“How long? When does Mr Bilbo want to leave?”

“Three weeks, I think. No more. Uhm, he hopes to leave in three days at the latest.”

Hamfast nodded. “You’d best tell him ‘aye’, then. And start gettin’ ready.” He watched Sam’s brown eyes widen with surprise and he laughed gruffly. “Oh, away wi’ye!” He waved his hand, for the second time that day.

“Thank you, Da’.”


***


“Sam!” Bilbo rushed to the door and yanked a bemused young hobbit inside. “Oh, I’m glad you’ve arrived - Frodo’s an utter disaster! He’s not even packed! ‘Make sure you’re ready to go when Sam arrives on Friday morning’, I told him. Oh, he said he had been, of course, and to give the lad credit, he had been, but he *needed* to look for something. And naturally, the ‘thing’ had been packed at the bottom of his trunk! Wouldn’t even tell me what the thing was - just that it was important and….goodness’ sake, he’s still to cram everything back into the trunk again!”

Sam obediently followed Bilbo through the smial from room to room as he checked the windows were closed, until they finally reached Frodo’s bedroom. The poor hobbit sat amid a pile of crumpled shirts and waistcoats and creased breeches, with a look on his face that was easily read ‘where do I start?’.

“Oh, Frodo, couldn’t you just have left your *thing* where it was? It would have been easier to find it at Brandy Hall when you were unpacking again. Oh, what will I do with you!” The old hobbit sighed and shook his head. “I may as well get second breakfast ready for us. Sam, would you please help my careless nephew with this -mess?” He gestured to the scattered piles. “The Thain has generously agreed to send someone by our way to cart our luggage to Buckland. We were told he would be here by mid-morning. And I said we would be ready.” Bilbo looked pointedly at his nephew.

“Yes, Mr Bilbo,” Sam said around a careful smile. He looked at Frodo, who was watching him with a sheepish grin, and returned the smile.

Bilbo scampered out of the room and muttered something under his breath about hobbits in their tweens.

“Hello, Sam. My apologies for the mess….I thought I had lost something precious to me, and I wanted to find it so I knew it was safe. I have found it, and it was my bad luck that it had slid to the bottom of my trunk.” He patted the open wooden chest beside him. “Well, I guess we should get started!”

Frodo was keen to be ready now, and so began roughly folding his clothes and packing them any old way. After a few minutes of Sam’s careful folding and Frodo’s manhandling, the young gardener politely asked Frodo to leave the room so he could finish the job. “Beggin’ your pardon, Mr Frodo, but it only takes one hobbit to plant a seed, if you take my meaning, so I think if I just keep goin’ with this, I’ll make sure you don’t leave anything behind, an’ we’ll be ready to leave here soon.”

Frodo smiled and stood. “Very well, Sam. I shall go and select a few books to take with me. That will keep me out from under your feet for a short while. If you’re unsure of anything, I’ll only be next door.”

As Sam returned to the task in hand, it quickly dawned on him how new this whole situation was, and that he was taking on the role of more than the Gardener of Bag End. Within the few weeks that his father had retired, Sam was running more and more errands for the Bagginses, and now, here he was sitting in Mr Frodo’s bedchamber, sorting through and packing his clothes, and accompanying his Master to Brandy Hall…..Sam couldn’t be sure if he was excited or nervous.

***

Having travelled for almost seven hours, the party from Hobbiton eventually arrived at the hall of the Master of Buckland.

“Ooh, just in time for dinner, I’ll wager!” Bilbo smiled eagerly, and after greeting the necessary hosts and relatives, he disappeared amid the swarms of hobbits coming and a-going.

Frodo smiled and shook Saradoc’s hand as he appeared. “Young Frodo! It’s been many a month since you have last graced us with your presence! All is well, I hope?”

“Yes, thank you, we are all fine in Hobbiton. I trust matters are the same for yourself and your family?”

“Indeed. With the exception of the frequent visits we have been receiving from our relatives from Tuckborough. Young Peregrin Took being six years now, and leaving a trail of mischief wherever he goes! But such news I expect you shall hear over the course of your holiday here!”

Frodo nodded with a laugh then placed his hand on Sam’s shoulder, who had been standing quietly at his master’s side and looking around anxiously at the ‘rabble’ that was Brandy Hall, as he had come to call it. “Uncle, I would like you to meet Samwise Gamgee. Sam, this is my uncle whom I stayed with until I moved to Bag End - the heir of Brandy Hall and future Master of Buckland, Saradoc Brandybuck.”

“An honour to meet you, sir.” Sam bowed low to the older hobbit.

“Yes, yes. A Gamgee, you say? That’s not a name I'm familiar with.”

“Oh it won't be sir, beggin' your pardon. We Gamgee's are ropers and gardeners. I'm the gardener for Bag End, where Mr Frodo lives....I'm his servant, sir.”

“Servant, aye? Then why aren't you receiving tasks from the housekeeper?”

“Sam is here as my friend and guest, sir.” Frodo interjected, his expression darkening a little.

Saradoc stiffened slightly. “Well, Master Gamgee, I'm afraid we...we were not expecting you. You will have to stay in the servants’ quarters. Flora!”

A flustered looking hobbit lass stopped short beside her master. “Yes, sir?”

“See to it that Master Gamgee is shown to his room. Put him with the Tooks' servant-lad.”

“Aye, sir, straight away. You have a bag with you?” Flora asked Sam.

“His luggage is at the main door, with mine,” Frodo informed her sharply.

“Well, we'll pick it up and get it to your room, then I'll show Mr Gamgee where he'll be sleepin'...even if he won't be takin' no orders while he's here.” The last part of Flora’s retort was aimed directly to the young lad standing before her. Sam heart dropped as he followed Flora back to the front door to retrieve his and Frodo’s luggage, and Frodo watched his friend as he slunk away through the crowds of Brandybucks and Tooks.

Despite her words, Flora managed to drop plenty of tasks on Sam. While the gentry dined, Sam and the house-servants scampered around busily, preparing beds and rooms ready for weary heads to lay upon after supper. One room to be prepared happened to be Frodo’s, but at this point all of Saradoc’s relatives and guests were feasting in one of the large dining rooms, and there was no sign of Frodo or Bilbo, who was staying a few doors down from his nephew.

Twice the young Hobbiton gardener got lost in the numerous tunnels, and both times found himself in the presence of one of a higher position, followed by a chastising from Flora.

By midnight, the house was winding down and the only people still up were those on a ‘night-service’.

Shuffling back to his room, Sam felt dreadful. He’d never been so tired as he was now. They had worked him since he arrived and only stopped him for five minutes to let him grab a bite to eat - and a bite was all he got.

He now lay on his bed, a candle still flickering on the nightstand, listening to the muffled chatter of servants saying goodnight and, closer by, the sound of quiet snoring. Sam sighed deeply and turned onto his other side to face the wall. He wondered where Frodo was, thinking of how much he wanted to see him right now, but knowing he’d never find him in this warren. He berated himself for becoming disillusioned - for thinking when Frodo said ‘my friend and guest’ that he really meant ‘friend’ - as in, one to stay close to…next door, say. Not a room next to the housekeepers, on the other side of the great smial.

“I was wrong. I should never have started thinkin’ like that. He is my master. Not my friend. I’m a Gamgee…He’s a Baggins….” Sam rubbed his eyes wearily and sighed again. “Da’ was right after all.” His stomach grumbled, demanding attention. “Naught I can do for you, I’m afraid.” He mumbled in return.

The candle guttered slightly, and a tear of warm wax slipped silently down its glossy length. In the silence, broken only by soft snores, Sam heard a quiet knock on the door. “If that’s Flora.…I’ll be remindin’ her it’s after midnight and she can.…”

“Sam?” Came a quiet, familiar voice.

Sam jumped up and pulled the door open. “Mr Frodo?” Sam’s soft brown eyes widened in surprise. “W-what are you over here for, sir?”

“I.…wanted to know you were alright, Sam. I never got a chance to see you after Miss Flora whisked you away. Have you been working all evening?” In the dim light of Frodo’s candle, Sam could see faint lines of worry across his brow.

“Yes. Yes, I-I have, Mr Frodo. I just….” he indicated into the dark room. “Just got back here a few minutes ago.”

“Did you eat supper?”

Sam hesitated, then nodded slowly.

“Sam?”

“I.….had a bite to eat earlier, sir.”

“You’ve missed two meals. No, it’s three now, I’m sure. We only stopped to eat our lunch; we didn’t stop for afternoon tea.”

“It-it it’s not important, Mr Frodo,” Sam mumbled awkwardly.

Frodo leaned against the doorframe and stared intently at Sam. “It *is* important, Sam.” He held Sam’s eyes in a strong hold until the young lad began to squirm. “Come with me.”

Sam subconsciously took a tiny step backwards. “I’m sorry, Mr Frodo, but I have to work tomorrow. I-I’d like to go to bed now, sir.”

Frodo set his jaw and grabbed hold of his retreating friend. “Samwise! You were invited here by Bilbo and myself, first and foremost as our friend - *my* friend. This is supposed to be a holiday for you just as much as us.”

“No, sir. I’m your gardener, and your servant, and -”

“If it makes you feel better, I’d rather you just worked for me while we are all here. I don’t want you working your fingers to the bone over Yule.”

“Oh, I would love to be able not to work. I’d love this to be a holiday, and to spend some time with you…” Sam blushed and shook his head. “No, that’s wrong.”

“What? Why is it? We can’t be friends or do things together because your job involves doing things for me? I want to spend more time with you. But I don’t want you to think that you *have to* because Mr Frodo asked it of you. I shan’t do that; I shall not use you in such a way. I think that we both want the same from each other. And I know that I would dearly love to have you as my closest friend.”

“But my gaffer.…” Sam moved forward again and rested his hand o the door handle. “I *do* want to be your friend. I really, really do.” His stomach interrupted again. “Oh.”

With a smile, Frodo pulled Sam forward. “Come, on, let’s get you fed. Then tomorrow I shall speak with my Uncle. I shall not have you working with the servants of Brandy Hall for all and sundry. Perhaps, if you wish, I could ask if there is any work you could assist with in the winter garden?”

Sam’s beaming smile gave him his answer as the two hobbits headed towards the candle-lit kitchens.

***

“Frodo!” A young lad shouted, much louder than necessary, causing all those around to stare in the direction of the voice. He looked sheepish for a brief moment, then ran towards his older cousin and wrapped his arms around his knees. “Frodo!”

“Hallo, Pippin,” Frodo replied good-naturedly, and patted the russet curls of his six-year old cousin. He tried to unwrap the lad from around his legs, but Pippin only clung on tighter. “Pip, you’ll have to let go of me, I’m afraid.” Frodo managed to remove one limb from his cousin’s vice-like grip, before looking up as another called out to him.

Pippin also looked up and behind him briefly and grinned. “Merry!” He squealed and immediately detached himself from Frodo and leapt onto his other cousin. “Hullo, Merry!”

Merry, unlike Frodo, had bent over and scooped up the bundle of mischief and kissed him on the forehead. At fourteen, Merry knew better than most how to handle Pippin. But on the other hand, it was because of Merry that very few could handle Pippin. “Did you show Frodo your gap?”

Pippin smiled impishly and tucked his head into Merry’s shoulder. “No!”

“But Frodo might want to know what happened to your tooth. Turn around and smile, Pip.”

Pippin turned around then, wriggled out of Merry’s arms, and looked up proudly at Frodo. “My firth toof came out lath night!” The little hobbit grinned wide to show the small gap at the front of his mouth. Frodo crouched down to Pippin’s height and looked curiously at the gap, making murmurs of admiration and interest as he did so. He smiled at Pippin’s slight lisp caused by the missing tooth.

“I bet you miss that tooth, Pip.”

The youngster shook his head. “Nope! ‘Cauth Merry thaid to put my toof under my pillow before I went to thleep lath night, and the toof-fairy would come and take it away, and thee did come, Frodo! Look what thee gave me!” He dug around his pockets and pulled out a shiny sliver coin.

Frodo’s jaw dropped slightly. He never expected Pippin to pull a silver coin out of his pocket. “Wo- Well, Pippin, you’ll have to take special care of that coin, won’t you?”

“Yup!”

At that moment, one of the Thain’s daughters rounded the corner. “Peregrin! Mama wants to see you!” Pervinca Took stopped in front of her baby brother and planted her hands on her hips. “She wants to know where you found that silver penny.”

Pippin pouted at his sister and put the coin away again. “The toof-fairy gave me it.”

“Oh, rot, Peregrin! The tooth-fairy doesn’t exist! You probably just ‘found’ it.”

“Vinca…” Merry said sharply, then scowled at her. “Don’t be mean.”

“We’re going to see Mama right now, whether you like it or not!” Pervinca ignored Merry’s warning and grabbed Pippin’s arm, as Frodo and Merry braced themselves for the screeching that would begin any moment as Big Sister dragged Little Brother down the hall.

“NONONONONOOO!!”

Merry cringed and covered his ears while Frodo bit back his smile and leaned against the wall.

“Merry! Tell her NOOO!”

Vinca’s annoyed comment followed quickly. “Pippin, shut up!”

Once the Tooks were out of sight, Frodo turned to face Merry again. “Does Vinca think Pippin stole that coin?”

Merry sighed dramatically. “Oh, probably. But he didn’t, Frodo, honest.”

“I know. It would have been his father, if his mother didn’t know anything about it.”

The younger of the two shook his head emphatically. “No. I did. I gave him the coin. Aunt Eglantine didn’t have time and-and no-one else paid him any attention. It’s his first tooth, and I thought I would make it special by tellin’ him about the tooth-fairy, and giving him something for it. It’s such a tiny thing, too!” Merry put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a creamy-white handkerchief. He unfolded it with great care then held out his hand to Frodo.

“You kept his tooth?”

Merry blushed to the tips of his ears and rewrapped the little treasure. “I-I wanted it to remember.”

“Where did *you* get the coin Merry? You didn’t take it, did you?”

Again, Merry shook his head. “It was mine.”

Frodo patted Merry on his shoulder and smiled. “Come on, then. I think we’d best go and speak to your aunt before the coin is confiscated from little Pippin.”

As they neared the parlour where Vinca had dragged Pippin off to, another hobbit padded quietly around the corner, almost walking into Merry, his arms loaded with clean linens to be folded and put away.

“Hoy, watch it!” Merry scowled at the clumsy servant lad who began stuttering an apology, moving backwards.

“Good morning, Sam.” Frodo said with a smile. Sam shyly looked up again and acknowledged the greeting.

“Is he your servant?” Merry asked and squinted up at Sam, then looked back to Frodo.

“I’m Mr Frodo’s gardener.”

“Sam is also my friend, Merry.”

“You’re friends with your servant?” Merry’s eyes widened. “I hardly even *talk* to Flora or Ben or the others.”

“Well, Sam’s father is a good friend with Uncle Bilbo. And since there are only two of us living at Bag End, and there are much less folk living in Hobbiton than Brandy Hall…we tend to get to know people. Sam was one of the first people I met when I moved to Bag End. And the closest to my age that I spend most time with, indeed, enjoy spending time with.”

While Sam stood blushing and trying to politely leave their company, Merry listened attentively and carefully considered Sam. “How old are you?”

“Sixteen. I’ll be seventeen in April, Mr--Merry, sir.”

“You’re two years older than me. I just turned fourteen two days ago.” He turned back to his cousin. “Shall we go and get Pippin now?”

***

“Peregrin, are you listening to me?” Eglantine scowled and tapped her foot on the floor, arms folded tightly across her chest.

“Yeth, Mama. But look - it’th tharted to thnow!” Pippin turned his face from the window to look at his mother. The features on his small face were lit with a pure joy. “Pleeeeath Mama, can I go play?”

“I was asking you where you found that coin. You are not leaving this hole until you tell me the truth, young lad.”

Pippin’s bottom lip trembled and his forehead creased. “But I did tell you, Mama.”

A knock at the door was welcomed with an exasperated sigh from the Thain’s wife. “Yes, come in.” Merry, followed by Frodo, shuffled quietly into the parlour. “Merry, Frodo. Good morning to you.”

“Good morning Aunt ‘Tine. May I speak with you, please?”

“Merry, I’m having a word with Pippin right now. Could you return in a half hour or so?”

Merry moved his weight from one foot to the other and fidgeted with a button on his blue cotton shirt. “It’s…it’s about Pippin.”

“Really.” Eglantine glanced sideways at her son. She waved her hand resignedly. “Pippin, go with cousin Frodo while I speak with Merry.”

“Then can we all go play in the thnow?”

“I’ll think about it. On you go.” She gently pushed Pippin towards his older cousin and pulled Merry towards her.

Frodo distracted Pippin with promises of cookies and milk, as Merry took a deep breath and told his aunt his side of the story.

***

Out in the corridor, Frodo bumped into Saradoc, who was followed by a troop of servants, being barked at by a very grumpy Flora. Frodo noted that Sam was not among them and took his opportunity to speak quietly with him.

“Uncle, may I have a moment?” Frodo asked politely, shifting Pippin from one hip to the other.

“Ah, Frodo. I….if it is only a moment, then yes, I can spare that time to speak with you. What is it you wish?”

“It’s about Samwise.” Frodo started, and looked his uncle straight in the eye. He knew that the older hobbit could pull his rank when he wanted to, and if there were any issues with servant folk, or those of a ‘lower class’, they more often than not found themselves on the receiving end of that attitude. He seemed to want to prove himself capable of running Brandy Hall as well as his father, and every opportunity he got, he seized quickly.

“Aye, what about the lad?”

“I do not want him serving while we are residing with you. He came as my friend first and foremost. Bilbo had also seen this as somewhat of a holiday for him. He has recently taken over his father’s job as the full time gardener at Bag End, and has also taken on the small household chores. He has come on in leaps and bounds this year, and worked exceptionally hard. You did state in your invitation to us that we could bring a guest if we so desired. And as it was our desire, we invited Sam. If he is to be serving anyone over this festive time, it will most likely be some small whim of mine. I will not have him returning home burnt out and miserable.”

Pippin huffed and wiggled in Frodo’s arms. “I want to play outhide, Frodooo!”

“All of our other relatives’ servants and gardeners know their place.”

“They are not here though, are they? They stay behind the in Great Smials, or wherever in the Shire it is that they reside. They stay behind and keep the house of our relatives, while they are gone over the festive period. You have a small army here, and as such had only need for a few extra pairs of hands. Sam is not one of them, else you would have specifically asked.”

“So, what is it that you want, Frodo, hmm? That your young Samwise does not lift a finger while he is here?”

“I want you to tell me there is no need for Sam to be working, and excuse him from duties. I want you to send Flora to set up a guest room near mine for him. If he wishes to work, that is for him to come to you, or the housekeeper.” Behind Saradoc, Flora made an indignant noise. Frodo ignored her and kept his eyes trained on his uncle.

“You never did demand a lot, did you, young Frodo?” He said in a sarcastic tone before turning to Flora. “See that it is done.” When she opened her mouth to protest, Saradoc added. “All of it. Straight away.”

“Thank you, Uncle. It is much appreciated.”

Frodo turned and took the restless Pippin towards the kitchen in search of his promised cookies.

***

“Pippin, sit still!” Merry grabbed his little cousin by the shoulders of his thick winter coat and pushed him onto the wooden bench by the side door. He picked up a long woolly scarf and wrapped it snug around Pippin’s neck. “Right, then. Where are your mittens?” The young hobbit smiled and picked them up from where they sat beside him. He held them up by the string that kept them attached for Merry to see. Pippin was very proud of these mittens - Merry had given them to him last Yule, and they matched the scarf that his mother had knitted him, which was also a present the year before.

“Oh, Pippin! They’re supposed to be put on first, before your coat!” Merry sighed and knelt to Pippin’s height to unbutton the coat.

Frodo smirked slightly as he paused in finding his own gloves. “Come on, Merry. Get yourself ready. I’ll finish seeing to Pip.”

Once Pippin was stuffed back into his coat and buttoned up again, Frodo picked up his little woolly hat and put it on him. “Nooo, I don’t want to wear thith one!” Pippin pulled the hat off and tossed it on to the bench.

“Well, you don’t go outside unless you have a hat on to keep your ears warm, Pip.” The older hobbit sighed and shook his head sadly. “We all have to wear a hat.”

Pippin made a huffy sound and crossed his arms firmly across his chest. “Well, I want to wear your hat then, Frodo!”

Merry rolled his eyes and pulled his own moss-green hat into place. “Pip, it’ll be too big for you. Just put your hat on and we can all go outside.”

“But I don’t like my hat!”

At that moment, Sam ambled towards them, all snug and warm in his own winter woolies. “Hello Mr Merry, Mr Frodo.” He glanced from Frodo to Pippin then back to Frodo.

“Sam, this is Pippin, the Paladin Took’s son. Another cousin of Merry and mine. Pippin, this is Sam, my best friend.”

Pippin considered the shy hobbit standing beside his older cousins. “I like your hat.” He said after careful consideration.

Sam’s eyebrows rose slightly. “Oh, well, thank you, Mr Pippin.”

“Why d’you call me ‘Mith-ter Pippin’?”

“He’s Frodo’s servant, Pip. But they’re friends, too.” Merry explained to his little cousin.

“But you’re not thuppothed to talk to the thervanth, Merry. Why doeth Frodo?”

“I’ve known Sam since he was about your age, Pippin. We’ve been friends for years and years now. Before he started being….my servant.” Frodo glanced at Sam, who looked uncomfortable being talked about, despite being the second eldest among the four of them. “Oh, Sam, I’ve talked to Uncle Saradoc. He is arranging a room to be set up near my own for you. And you are not to take any more orders from Flora while we’re here. If there is anything you wish to do, however, that is your own choice.”

“Oh, uhm, thank you very much, Mr Frodo, sir.” He smiled gently around a faint blush. “I hope it weren’t no trouble. Wouldn’t want to be puttin’ you out.”

“It was no trouble, do not worry about it. Now, we three are about to go and, hm, play in the snow. Do you wish to join us?”

“I was goin’ to take myself around Mr Brandybuck’s fine gardens, sir. But if you want my company, I’ll not say no.”

Frodo pulled on his gloves and adjusted his hat. “Well, that’s settled then. These two can roll around in the snow and we shall enjoy the garden!” He pulled open the door and took a deep breath of the crisp, fresh air.



Frodo and Sam left the two younger hobbits scooping up armfuls of soft snow and kicking at the high drifts piled against bushes and trees. Pippin squealed as Merry shook a branch and showered him with the loose snow. Frodo chuckled as he and Sam turned away and headed for the gardens.

The so-called ‘winter gardens’ were enclosed within four walls of tall, thick holly bushes. Even covered in a half foot of snow, little shrubs peaked through, some showing off dainty blooms, others frosted green leaves. The flowers on one particular bush looked to Sam’s eyes almost too fragile to survive the cold, but he marvelled at its delicate prettiness.

“Isn’t it wonderful, Mr Frodo?” He said with a large smile on his face. His cheeks were already tinged pink from the cold kisses pressed to his skin and his breath puffed out in little clouds. Frodo peeked over his muffler, cheeks and nose also pink, and smiled, his eyes taking in the garden he hadn’t seen for a good few years now. “You never notice how beautiful they are in the summer, when there are other plants vying for attention. But in the middle of winter, when the summer blooms are sleeping…these plants take the limelight for themselves, and bring a lot of cheer to what are otherwise dull and gloomy months.” He wondered over to a tall bush with small white flowers and fingered them carefully. “Sam, what is this called?”

Sam joined him and looked closely at the small blooms. “I believe this is called ‘Winter Beauty’, sir. It’s a type of Honeysuckle that grows in winter.”

“Ah, yes, the scent is familiar. Why, I never realised this species existed.”

They continued their tour of the garden, Sam pointing out small plants to Frodo, and the latter asking frequent questions. Sam was proud to be able to show off his expertise, and was able to name most plants, pointing out Sweet Box, Saxifrage, Oleaster, and the numerous, colourful Barberry bushes.

“Sam! Is that not a Rhododendron?” Frodo gazed in awe at the huge tree-like shrub, blooming with pinky-red flowers and covered in glossy-green leaves.

Sam smiled broadly with Frodo’s knowledge. “Aye, indeed, Mr Frodo. Some of them keep puttin’ out flowers all through winter. Fairly brightens the place up.”

“That it does…” Frodo murmured. He stepped off the snow-covered path and clambered into the bush. Sam gaped for a moment then followed him. “Sam, it’s the sort of bush you can hide in! I remember…when I was younger, we used to do just this. We would be playing hide-and-seek or sardines and many times, we would end up in a huge Rhododendron like this.”

Sam carefully sat down on one the low branches. “My Aunt May had one like this. Her garden was bigger than the one we have at Number 3, and she used to work all day outside. Us wee ones would of’en play out there…seein’ as we never played much at home, what with all the work that was to be done. But until I started workin’, I’d always looked forward to seein’ her. And playin’ outside, playing under the huge Rhoddy bush.”

Frodo sat down beside him and smiled as Sam recounted the memory. After a moment, he opened his mouth to speak

“Oi, whatch’you fink y’doin’?” A grouchy voice startled the two. “Get outta there, now!” Sam blushed furiously as he scrambled out of the tangling branches and leaves, and was followed closely by Frodo, who appeared a lot less flustered. “They ain’t for playin’ hide ‘n seek in, so you’s ju’ keep away from ‘em, alright?” Sam looked up and nodded at the old gardener.

“Aye, we’re sorry, sir. Won’t do that again.”

The gardener scowled at them once more before he shuffled off down the path, rake in hand, muttering under his breath and scratching his chin.

“Well, we won’t get caught again, at least!” Frodo whispered to Sam, as they headed back towards the place they had left Merry and Pippin playing.

***

A quiet knock on the door awoke Frodo from his dreams on Yule morning. He rolled over and lifted his head, rubbing his eyes sleepily. “Uh, yes, come in,” he said groggily.

The door opened slowly, and Sam stepped into the room, arms full with a heavy-laden breakfast tray. “Mornin’, Mr Frodo. I thought I’d bring your breakfast to you. It’s so frantic out there - everyone rushin’ around, cooks and servants and whatnot - all doin’ last minute jobs for the day. Oh, and the childer are all runnin’ ‘bout madly, too. The nurses can barely control the little ’uns.” He placed the tray on Frodo’s lap, as he now sat upright in bed, propped against the pillows. “There we are. How’s that, sir? Comfortable enough?”

“Yes, Sam, thank you.” Frodo smiled then picked up a buttered slice of toast. “So, any sign of Pippin yet? I doubt even that cold of his would keep him in bed today. He won’t be making snow angels for a while now.” Frodo finished his statement with a slight smirk.

“Well, I don’t actually remember seein’ him. At least, not from here to the kitchen. Mayhap he’s still asleep?”

Frodo snorted ungracefully. “On Yule? Hardly. There is plenty to be eaten and presents to be opened. He’ll be somewhere.”

***

Pippin, however, was nowhere to be found, until it was time for the family to gather in the main drawing room to open the presents in the late afternoon, before they settled down to a huge dinner.

The children proudly presented their gifts to their parents, and the adults the same in return, and all equally as excited. Merry, sitting closest to Frodo, showed his gifts happily to his older cousin, and thanked him many times for his present to him, a large toy wooden horse, even though Merry felt he was getting to an age where he was too old for toys. But it was a beautifully carved horse, and Frodo had given him two very big fruit lollies and a smart, embroidered weskit as well.

While the household was abuzz with this excitement, Frodo leaned over to whisper in Sam’s ear, “I have a gift for you, Sam. Will you stop by my chamber after dinner?”

Sam blushed and nodded shyly. “Yes, certainly, Mr Frodo.”

Frodo nodded turned away again, distracted by an ecstatic Pippin who came bounding over, holding a tiny baby rabbit in his hands, a present from his parents. And as Sam wandered away, he heard, over the racket in the room, Pippin declaring the rabbit’s name as “Filbert”.

***

Sam had never been so well fed in his life. It got to the point where he was refusing when someone offered to refill his plate. He now shuffled wearily down the lamp-lit tunnels to his room. As he passed Frodo’s room, he remembered his master’s request to see him after dinner. Sam paused, then hesitantly lifted his hand to knock.

“Yes, come in.” Came the voice within the room.

“You-you wanted to see me, sir?” Sam asked softly as he closed the door behind him. Frodo, he observed, was sitting at the desk provided in the room, reading from a small green-leather bound book.

Frodo stood up and turned to face his young friend. “Yes. I have a Yule gift for you.” He headed for a small cupboard.

“Oh, sir, you shouldn’t have! Really, sir, I…” Sam trailed off as Frodo returned from his rummaging in the cupboard and handed him a small wrapped box. Before accepting it, Sam dug into his pocket and pulled out a box of his own, wrapped in plain brown paper: he hadn’t been able to find anything as fancy as Frodo’s patterned gift-wrap. “I-I have this for you, Mr Frodo.” His face burned with the shy blush covering it, and he held out the present to Frodo.

“Thank you, Sam. Shall we open them together?” Frodo asked with a subtle smile.

They opened the presents in silence, paper rustling quietly and landing on the thick-carpeted floor with a gentle ‘pat’. They both gasped and looked up at the same time as their gifts were revealed. Identical.

“You - ”

“And you.”

Sam stared in disbelief at what he held in his hand. “The Heart Stones.”

“Oh, Sam!” Frodo pulled Sam towards him and hugged him tightly. After a moment’s hesitation over propriety, Sam returned the embrace sincerely. At that moment, they were equals, without a thought for social standings that were imposed. Free to speak, to hold, to care and love for any and every being.

“I can’t believe you kept it, too!” Sam whispered, his eyes misting.

“Do you know what this means, Sam?” Frodo asked. He smiled slightly at the answering shake of the head he felt against his shoulder. “You do not ever doubt my friendship again!”

Sam smiled widely. And he held Frodo in his heart for the rest of their lives.

~End, part 5~