"Are you going to go with us then?" Pip hopped down off the counter top

"That awful Farmer Maggot!" Frodo complained trying to sound angry yet there was fear in his voice, "I suppose you have forgotten how he turned the dogs loose on me. Then took after me the fat old troll."

"He only meant to scare you," Merry reassured, "Besides we steal vegetables all the time and it never happened to us."

"You best keep out of his crops, the lot of you!" Sam wiped down dishes with a neat white towel, "The old Gaffer made him a promise he did."

"Indeed I did!" said a voice from behind the doorframe.

The four younger hobbits turned in surprise at the interruption. He patted Sam's head as he passed and found himself a comfortable seat in an overstuffed chair.

"I want all of ye," he pointed with them one at a time with his pipe as his eyes narrowed, "to leave his crops well enough alone!"

The four hobbits gathered around the Gaffer as he lit his pipe.

"I remember when I first met that farmer," he smiled then laughed. But as they waited for him to speak he said nothing. His eyes glazed over, staring out of the window and over the cornfield, lost in thought and remembrance...

---

"Eat Dirt Maggot!"

"Yeah, worms and dirt!"

Hamfast raised a hand to shield the sun from his eyes. Just over the swaying acres of gold and past the trees and under the azure sky he could make out the forms of four Tooks and a Brandybuck that had ganged up on some poor unfortunate.

"He's as white as a maggot!"

"Ugly old troll!"

Hamfast gathered what little weaponry he could; a handful of corn shucks would do nicely. He ran as fast as his outsized furry feet would carry him, tromping down corn, and tripping on sticks as he raced under the sun's glare.

"Confounded Tooks!" he shouted winging an ear at one and knocking him backwards, "Rotten Brandybucks!"

Hamfast marveled at what a good aim he'd become under pressure. One of the Brandymucks was shoving a fistful of dirt in the stranger's face, while a Took held his hair. They were the next two to find a skull battering corn shuck winged at their faces.

"Keep away from him," he shouted, "Lest I take after the lot of you myself!"

"It's old Farmer Gamgee!" one of the Took boys shouted, "Come on, hurry!"

Old? Him? Hamfast chuckled at the concept of himself ever being thought of as old. He was however in the prime of his life and he reasoned had earned some due respect. He watched pleased with himself as the tweens ran off in fear.

He hurried to the poor chap face down in the dirt and reached a hand to the torn white sleeve.

"Are you alrigh-" his words trailed off as two wide eyes met his spilling glimmering trails down a radiantly pale face. Hamfast almost fell backwards at the sight. It was no young hobbit lad they were pummeling. It was a full-grown hobbit not much younger than him.

Loosing a fight to some tweens wasn't his fault. It was four against one and the Took boys were strong for their ages. However, he hated to see a grown hobbit go to crying over it.

"Are you alright?"

The stranger only buried his face in his arm, his shoulders shaking with heart wrenching sobs.

Though he reasoned the sight of a grown hobbit crying should have turned his stomach it didn't. Instead he felt an overwhelming need to protect him, as if it were something deep down in his being that made up the very fiber of who he was.

Hamfast made a mental note of him.

His hair was much longer than most hobbit men wore it. It came down in a single chocolate braid tied back tightly in a leather. It was more of an elvish style than you'd see in Hobbiton. Two more thin braids hung loosely on either side of an extraordinary face.


He rested a strong hand under a nicely squared chin and tilted it up to meet his gaze. He hadn't meant to be so personal least of all with another farmer, so he compensated quickly with a warm smile.

"Please don't cry about it," he smiled helping the other hobbit to sit up, "You know how it is. We were their ages not so very long ago.'

"It wouldn't be so bad," the farmer sniffed as Hamfast helped him to dust off "If what they've said didn't carry the sting of some truth. I suppose they think they've a very wide window of opportunity when it comes to harassing me."

"I'm sure there is no truth at all to it," Hamfast sat down beside him on the ground and extended a calloused palm, "I'm a Gamgee. Hamfast Gamgee."

His words only served to make the stranger start to weep again.

"I'm a, " he couldn't meet his gaze or shake his hand before he broke down again into tears and buried his face in his arms in humiliation, "I'm a maggot!"

Hamfast's face twisted up as he put an arm around him.

"That isn't right," he scolded with a consolatory shake, "saying such things about yourself, bad enough when other folks do it!"

"No," sniffed the farmer, "I am a Maggot, same way you're a Gamgee. I'm Farmer Maggot!"

Maggot! Thought Hamfast. He hated to ask his first name. Why even if it were a sound good name like Samwise it would have been a bad name ending in Maggot.

Why Maggot was the most ironic name anybody could think of for a hobbit that looked as exotic and fascinating this one did. Hamfast would have said he had an elvish look if he didn't hate the expression.

For a moment his eyes gazed over a strong chin and long dark lashes, an upturned nose and two very wide slanted eyes the color of hazelnuts. For a hobbit farmer called Maggot the fellow was dazzling.

"It's a shame you're not a hobbit lass," Hamfast said.

"Why?" Farmer snapped just waiting to be insulted again, "I suppose are going to tell me you think I'm pretty."

"Well yes, actually," Hamfast chuckled at his response, "Leastwise as much as you can manage to be pretty being a fellow or a hobbit or both as it were. But my point is if you were hobbit lass you could change your name. But being as how you aren't I guess you are just stuck with it."

Farmer sniffed a bit.

Hamfast could only imagine.

"Well, never mind it," Hamfast said, "Those Tooks have called me Ham-neck a time or two."

Farmer laughed, charmingly and darned if the whole Shire didn't light up with him when he did.

"Leastwise," Hamfast continued, "It sure isn't worth getting into a fit over what some tweenagers think."'

"Oh," Farmer sighed and rubbed his face with a deep breath, "It isn't them, it isn't just them anyway. Confound it."

Farmer's wide almond eyes searched his for a moment and narrowed and Hamfast couldn't help but notice he had very high cheekbones for such a full pouting mouth.

"Do you know," he said, "I am probably the only hobbit that hates the Shire. It's true. I hate it. I hate my crops-they won't grow. And I'm half starved to death on account of it. I just started this business of farming and I just well I'm not meant for it at all."

Hamfast looked at him. He did look more like a poet than a farmer, and he was rather slim for a hobbit.

Hamfast nodded, "I've been gardening and farming for some time and I could show you anything you need to know. Why mark my words in time you will have vegetables those Tooks and Brandybucks will be envious of"

"That would be right friendly of you," Farmer said sadly.

Hamfast's offer didn't seem to help much and it wasn't long before he found out why.

"Do you ever," Farmer stopped and thought, "Do you ever just want to leave this place?"

"Leave?" Hamfast chuckled, "The Shire?" Who ever heard of such a thing he thought

"But don't you wonder what is outside of it? Say in Bree For example."

"I guess I hadn't thought of it," Hamfast wiped his brow; the sun was beginning to beat down on them both.

Farmer dusted himself off and without standing up from the leaves just yet managed to pick up a three small-ruined cream-colored canvases before sighing in exasperation.

Hamfast hadn't noticed them before.

"What is all that?"

"Never mind it," Farmer sighed, "I am sure you have no interest in painting."

"That's not true, why I painted the barn door last Thursday."

Farmer chuckled again, vibrantly. He handed him the one canvas and lifted its cover.

"Oh!" Hamfast exclaimed tilting his head to the left and the right again then leaning back, "Hmm?"

Farmer sighed, "I suppose you are going to ask me what it is."

"No I weren't," Hamfast nodded, "Why that's a naked hobbit lass sure as I've ever seen one and never mind if she's got a dish of butter on fire, where her eyes ought to be."

"It's a picture of the Shire. And how it swallows the souls of people whole with its complacency."

"It is absolutely," Hamfast breathed no longer looking at the painting, "beautiful!"

As Hamfast turned Farmer's soft hair brushed his cheek. He didn't mean to linger there breathing it in but it wasn't the usual hobbit hair smell of dirt or fresh biscuits. Its scent was exotic; it was amber and black tea, warm musk and oak.

How embarrassing, thought Hamfast as Farmer noticed him and reasoned he'd better think of something quickly.

"It's rather long stuff," Hamfast tugged at the braid.

"I can't help it," Farmer complained, "If I grow it and braid it it's the only way it will lay down flat. The Tooks say I have hair like a troll."

"Listen, don't let those Tooks."

"But it's true." Farmer interrupted reaching a hand to his hair, " Look."

He pulled back the leather that bound it and the stuff spilled free. Where most hobbit's had curls farmer had springs.

They were soft as rabbit hide. Hamfast hadn't meant to go to stroking them so. They were rather fun springs he noted, the sort that bounced right back when you pulled them straight again.

They were very dark brown spirals, yet the sun had still managed to paint them in hues of auburn and dark autumn gold into the sort of color that might taste of coco and cinnamon. There was certainly quite a lot of it and it flew about Farmer's head when the breeze hit.

"Well never you mind it," Hamfast tried to tie a few more braids in the stuff just to keep it out of his face, "It's got pluck, as I'm sure you do when you put your mind to it. "

"You certainly came to my rescue today," Farmer chuckled his eyes darting across Hamfast's strong face.

And just like that Farmer kissed him.

"Your welcome," Hamfast smiled resolved not to make too much of it.

But Farmer leaned in again, this time softly gently brushing his soft mouth against Hamfast's.

Hamfast may not have blushed just then if his lips didn't feel like soft velvet. He might have not gasped if a jolt hadn't come up from those lips and sting him all the way to the core of his heart.

"I am sorry," Farmer lowered his dark lashes, "I'm sure there is a Mrs. Gamgee."

"N-not as of yet." Hamfast stammered, wondering how a Farmer who seemed so un-daunting at first now left him tremulous. He wouldn't ask if there was a Mrs. Maggot. Most likely a dozen or more had swooned at the face but ran in terror at the name.

"Do you have a wife," he asked.

"Ha," Farmer snickered then chuckled, "No."

"Well," Hamfast patted his shoulder nervously, "You are a handsome enough hobbit, I am sure you will find one soon."

"I'm certain I will as well," Farmer sighed eyes locked on his painting.

All Hamfast could think on was how much he longed to touch him just once more, most especially those wild springs. His skin looked incredibly warm; fair yet golden amber under the sun's warm glow.

"Farmer?"

"Hmm?" Those exotic upturned eyes met his again, trailing over his face.

Some unfamiliar instinct in Hamfast rose up within him, one he'd dared not allow on any conscious level. He cupped one strong hand under Farmer's delicious coils and tilted his head back, pressing against him open mouth to open mouth.

"Mmmm" Farmer sighed.

That soft moan of pleasure was all Hamfast needed, there was nothing soft about the kiss he planted on Farmer. He laved that mouth with his tongue, probing exploring meeting back with hungry lips and gasps.

A jolt of fire hot current ran from his toes through his belly and down into his groin, another right behind it made his cheeks burn and tingle and seemed to round it's fire electrically at the base of his jaw sparking with every slippery hot lick of Farmer's tongue.

Beside himself, he cried out into Farmer's open mouth and ending it all with a firm eager wet suck to Farmer's lower lip.

There was nothing gentle in Hamfast's eyes, nor Farmer's as they stared at each other hungrily, starved to death for something other than food for once.

Their lips met again in wanton passion, Farmer's tongue swirling soft circles against his own while sighing. A breeze blew by shifting the corn, and Farmer's hair.

Hamfast moved those kisses over to the sun warmed spot at Farmers cheek trailing them down his neck and licking the base of his open throat. Hamfast's strong hands were as hungry as his mouth; he slid one eager hand across Farmer's middle rubbing the strong muscles of his stomach through the softest cambric and up Farmer's shirt.

Farmer's mouth found his as Hamfast's hands reached upward to Farmer's chest cupping and squeezing reflexively at an unexpected hard surface

Their kiss was broken by Hamfast's astonished look.

Farmer was giggling at him, but not cruelly, his laugher was heartwarming.

Hamfast blushed. It wasn't as though he never did this before; it was just that when he'd had, it was with a farmer's daughter not a farmer.

Their eyes met again and Hamfast could see nothing in that dark coffee color but sweet warmth and merriment. Within seconds Farmer's forgiving hands slid into Hamfast's putting those calluses back against his skin and Hamfast realized that would not be the only moment of now what he would be experiencing that afternoon.

---

"Gaffer" Sam shook him, "Dad," "Hmm," the old man blinked, "What?' "You were about to tell us a story." "About when you first met farmer Maggot," Merry reminded.

"Well," said the Gaffer knowing there was no way to put into words all that had happened. And anything he could have said would either be to strong for the listeners or too deep in concept for their young ears. Sooner or later someone, most likely Frodo would also have to asked him what happened and truth be told the Shire happened. The same way the Shire always happened.

"For one thing Farmer and the Tooks and Brandybucks didn't get along so well at first," Gaffer started with that point it was a story enough in itself, "But they were fine in time just as soon as."

Gaffer's words trailed off.

"Just as soon as what Dad?" Sam asked

Exactly thought the Gaffer, As soon as what?

As soon as time passed? As soon as Farmer learned to stand up for himself? As soon as the Tooks grew up or as soon as Farmer complied and became just like the rest of the Shire, and it was then that he realized Farmer wasn't at war with the Tooks or the Brandybucks then he was at war with the Shire itself.

"So your point is," Said Frodo, "That Maggot will learn to like me in time?"

Why not, the Gaffer thought, "I'm sure he will. In fact I'm certain of it."

"If the Farmer was fightin with our dads" said Pip pointing at Merry, "Why does he hate Frodo so much?'

"Farmer doesn't hate Frodo," Gaffer reassured he stood up ruffling Frodo's longish coffee colored curls, "I imagine Frodo just reminds him somewhat of another young hobbit the old farmer never quite made peace with."

Farmer had been right with that painting. The Shire was an entity of it's own, paradise to the eyes of some and too others a prison and to him just an ordinary place and an ordinary day. :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::;

The Shire, Sam's Wedding.... A whole journey later

"Confound it Samwise Gamgee" he scolded himself, "Just say something to the old Gaffer for once and get it off your self once and for all."

The Gaffer peeked in at the mention of his name. He saw his boy, dressed in his finery red faced, his lips pinched between two chubby fingers as he thought and paced.

"Dad," Sam jumped and rubbed the back of his neck, "I was just, that is to say I was meaning too."

Thoughtfully the old man closed the door behind them noting his son, his favorite had been crying. Sam didn't have to tell him why. But he was about too.

There was a rare defiance in Sam's eyes just then; Sam was almost never insolent but just then his eyes were narrowed.

"Before you say another word, son," the Gaffer raised a hand, "I want you to know how very proud of you I am."

To his astonishment Sam's normally sweet gentle eyes suddenly flashed at him. "If your saying that just because you think it will keep me from telling you what I'm going to tell you anyway it wont work!" Sam snapped then realized in horror the way he'd spoken to his own father, "I'm sorry Gaffer, it's just that."

"Go on Sam," the Gaffer said and settled back.

"Well," Sam rubbed the back of his neck again, "Today is the day I marry Rose Cotton. And I intend to, but before I do I just wanted you to know that I can't say that if it hadn't been for that ring business today might have turned out a lot different."

Sam glared back at his dad just waiting for the old man to say something, "And I think you'd be knowing by know what I mean by that!"

Sam stopped at his own gruffness. Suddenly tears stung his eyes, tears for the old man and for Frodo, tears of happiness for Rosie and sadness for so many other things.

"Oh Gaffer," he said as he sat down beside him floorwise, "I'm sorry I didn't mean."

"I know Sam," he patted his head.

And just like that Sam blurted out the ache in his heart, "I loved Frodo."

"I know."

"You did? I mean you do?" Sam's blue eyes looked up into a pair not dissimilar.

The old man smiled.

"Well," Sam said seeing as how he'd already confessed, "In some ways I still do it's just that...."

"Things happen," said the Gaffer comfortingly

"Exactly," Sam sniffed and wiped his eyes before he laughed. It was the sort of laugh one has one when one feels a half-ton lighter.

"Well most important," Sam continued his voice raising again only this time more in pleading than defiance, "You should know that just because of it doesn't mean I don't love Rosie. You probably don't see it, how someone can love somebody and then later love somebody else so very different."

"You don't think I can understand that?"

Sam searched the old man's face, he was actually more help than he'd ever expected.

"The way I see it," said Sam using his hands for emphasis, "A heart can break somethin' awful. So bad you think you can never see straight again. But even when it does, it don't mean it won't never heal back up again. And so."


"And so you move on." the Gaffer nodded.

"Yeah," Sam nodded, "That's it. Only."

"Only sometimes you wonder what if?"

Sam nodded.

The Gaffer felt his heart swell seeing a younger more ambitious version of himself sitting there beside him.

"I'm very proud of you Samwise," he said.

The pair sat in silence for a long while, the guests were beginning to ready themselves outside and the pain in Sam's heart was quickly being warmed away.

"Is it possible to regret a thing," Sam asked, "And yet still not be sorry for how things turned out?"

The Gaffer chuckled, "More than you can imagine."

"I'm not sorry," Sam, emphasized, "I'm happy about today I mean. But I can't help but wonder, what if that whole ring business never happened. Maybe Frodo and I would have, well I don't even know what exactly."

"Maybe," said the Gaffer, "And maybe not. Sometimes it takes a lot less than a great adventure to change things. Sometimes it takes hardly anything at all."

"How do you mean?'

The Gaffer sighed. Sam was more than old enough to here this. Sure as pig dirt he wouldn't tell him everything, but he would tell him enough.

"Sam," he said, "Did I ever tell you about the time I first met old Farmer Maggot?"