Sam's family saw little of him the next few weeks, as Frodo worked to make Sam ready for the trip to Buckland - which was a good thing, all in all, for Sam's gaffer would have had something to say about his recent cleaning and fancying up. In fact, Sam was worried as to just how he was going to explain all of this to his gaffer once the Ball was over, but he managed to push his concerns to the back of his mind for now. He had his hands - and his head - full with learning the who's who of Buckland society, continuing to work on his speaking, and learning how to dance.
The latter subject was the cause for a great deal of mirth, since the only ones available to teach him were Frodo, Merry and Pippin. Two would play music while the other taught the dancing, but the sight of Sam dancing with any of them inevitably broke down into guffaws - so much so that it was a miracle that he actually did learn to dance. Frodo seemed to manage the best, but Merry and Pip tended to enjoy the drama a bit too much, fluttering their eyelashes at Sam and uttering high-pitched giggles, until Sam's glowering would break them up in stitches.
"Oh, Sam - you're so strong!" squealed Pippin - which earned him a kick in the shins from Sam - son of the Thain or no son of the Thain.
"Dear Sam - won't you run away with me?" Merry begged, the effect ruined by his naturally lower voice - and the yelp that ensued when Sam's foot tread on his.
But, all being said and done, Merry and Pippin turned out to be more of a help than a hindrance, being rather talented with the drum and pipe at dance accompaniment, much to the surprise of Frodo and Sam both. And Frodo, with his natural grace at dancing, and his patience at teaching, soon had Sam moving smoothly through the popular dances of the Shire.
Before they knew it, it was coming nigh to Yule - and the time of the Brandybuck Ball.
The Brandybuck Ball - surely the finest occasion in all of the Shire. Held in the magnificent Buckland Hall, it was the highlight of the social calendar for all of the finest families in the Shire. The Hall was literally aglow with candles, with beautiful garlands of evergreens strewn about the ceilings and doorways, the scent of cinnamon and cloves in the air, and the rustle of hobbits in their best finery all about, combined with the jaunty sound of fiddles and pipes coming from the enormous ballroom - one of the few rooms at the Hall not excavated from the hill, due to its great size.
Such was the scene as Frodo Baggins and Sam Gamgee - that is, Underhill - entered the ballroom. Their eyes were at first blinded by the bright light of so many candles. Frodo was finely dressed in a weskit and matching trousers of brown velvet, and a shirt of fine white linen. But Sam outshone Frodo by far, in a weskit of deep moss green velvet, and trousers of chestnut brown, and a shirt of linen with subtle textured designs, all emphasizing his fine strong hobbit figure, with a plump stomach the envy of any hobbit, as well as well-formed calves and neatly brushed feet. Sam's beautiful golden hair - usually an unruly afterthought - had been cut and brushed to its full glory; and blonde hair being a rarity amongst hobbits, it was enough to make lass after lass stop and stare as he and Frodo walked through the hall to Merry and Pippin, waiting on the other side.
Sam seemed to take the magnificence and the looks in stride as they approached Merry and Pippin; only Frodo could sense his confusion at suddenly being the center of attention.
Pippin was, of course, brightly dressed as usual - this time in green, to accent his always-laughing green eyes - and Merry wore a beautiful gold-colored weskit; but both of them were staring at Sam with unabashed amazement as he and Frodo greeted Frodo's cousins and wished them the compliments of the season.
"Sam!" Merry gasped, "is that really you?!" Pippin managed only a squeak as he pumped Sam's hand in greeting.
Sam reddened slightly, but managed to keep his calm, "I don't know what all the fuss it about, sirs," he whispered, "is there something amiss with my clothing?", he asked, worried.
Pippin laughed, and replied quietly, "No, Sam! There's nothing amiss! It's just - well, I hate to admit it, but the lasses can't take their eyes off of you. Why, they seem to think you're the finest looking hobbit lad at the Ball!"
At this, Sam blushed to the roots of his hair. "Don't tease me now, sir! It isn't right!"
Frodo turned to Sam, smiling. "Sam - he's not teasing. It's true." Sam blinked owlishly at his friends, and suddenly looked near to passing out at the thought. "Now, now, Sam! Take a deep breath, and calm yourself down. Here," Frodo continued, picking up a mug of ale from a passing servant and handing it to Sam, "drink this - slowly, now! Slowly!" Sam obeyed, slowly downing the entire mug and handing it back. "Now, straighten up... calm yourself ... and turn around and look..."
Sam did so, and allowed himself a look around the ball room. Of the looks aimed at him, none were laughing or disparaging - far from it. Instead, he was met with looks of admiration and coy smiles. Strangely, this made him more nervous than just about anything he could imagine, until he heard Frodo's amused voice next to him. "Breathe, Sam, breathe! Relax. Remember, just be a gentleman tonight. And Sam?" Frodo's voice paused until he was sure Sam was listening, "Above all - enjoy it. This is your night, Sam." At that, Sam allowed himself a small laugh -and calmed a bit. The next thing he knew, a beautiful young hobbit lass had appeared at his elbow, smiling engagingly, and the band was starting up a dance. Sam recalled his manners and all that he had been taught.
"May I have this dance?", he asked the lass smoothly, and with confidence. The girl replied with a grateful nod, and soon, Sam was dancing around and around the ballroom, as if he had done so his entire life. After that, the evening was filled with dance after dance - it seemed as though the lasses were lining up for him. And always, when he looked over at any of his friends who happened to be sitting out a dance, there was a smile and a toast with a mug. At one point, he even found himself standing next to the Master of the Hall, Saradoc Brandybuck, Merry's father, who seemed particularly eager to get to know the mysterious Underhill who had come from out of nowhere to become the hit of this year's Buckland Ball. Sam found himself conversing smoothly with this grand personage, steering the subject away from his background again and again, and enjoying himself as he did.
As for Frodo, he was simply enjoying he impression his friend and gardener had made on those present, as he strolled through the ballroom, catching snatches of conversations:
"So light on his feet, so smooth - heavens, he must have Elvish in his blood!"
"Now there's a fine specimen of a hobbit, and that's saying something."
"Look at him, when he dances. Such a faraway look - as if he's always lived in... a garden!"
Frodo found himself coming close to spilling his beer on himself at the last comment. He decided it was best to simply stand on the sidelines and watch Sam for a while, as he danced with yet another daughter of one of the highborn families of the Shire. He was entranced as Sam danced with the belles of the ball, one after another - magnificently. Yet at some late point in the evening, Frodo was surprised to find himself feeling strangely saddened. But why? He should be happy for his friend - and, after all, this is what it was all for, wasn't it? Soon, with his new manners and way of speaking, Sam should be able to impress any lass he wanted in Hobbiton, Rosie included - and then be happily married. Happily married. And no more Sam coming over in the evenings to work on his speech; no more silly parties with Merry and Pippin and Sam to teach Sam dancing; no more waking up to breakfast cooked by Sam. Frodo shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts, but found himself sighing instead, unable to watch any more of the dancing. It was late. Sam was enjoying himself, no need to ask him to stop, but it was time for Frodo to turn in. Frodo walked to the door of the ballroom, and turned back for one more look -and then went out. The cold air was a welcome shock after the heady heat of the ballroom, and many were standing outside, enjoying a hot mulled wine... or two... or more. Frodo pulled on his jacket. A hot mulled wine sounded good before bed. Frodo walked over to the steaming kettles, only to run into Merry and Pippin, deep in their cups.
"Cousin!" they shouted together, gathering him in as he walked over with his mug. The two then proceeded to congratulate him loudly for his amazing transformation of Sam - they never would have believed it! A triumph, an absolute triumph! Frodo hushed them nervously, looking about, worried that Sam might hear, but fortunately he appeared to still be in the ballroom, since there was no sign of him outside.
"Frodo! It's clear you've won the bet!" Merry shouted, as he continued:
(singing)
Tonight, old man, you did it!
You did it! You did it!
You said that you would do it,
And indeed you did.
I thought that you would rue it;
I doubted you'd do it.
But now I must admit it
That succeed you did.
You should get a mathom
Or be even made a mayor
Frodo (embarassed and trying to wave them off):
It was nothing. Really nothing.
Pippin:
All alone you hurdled
Ev'ry obstacle 'twas there!
Frodo (quite embarassed, not to mentioned ashamed and worried that
somebody will hear, cuts in):
Now, wait! Now, wait!
Give credit where it's due...
Pippin:
Yes! A lot of the glory goes to you!
Merry:
For you're the one who did it,
Who did it, who did it!
As sturdy as the Gaffer,
Not a second did you waffle.
There's no doubt about it,
You did it!
I must have aged a year tonight.
At times I thought I'd die of fright.
Never was there a momentary lull
Pippin:
Shortly after we came in
I saw at once you'd easily win;
And after that I found it deadly dull.
Merry:
You should have heard the ooh's and ah's;
Ev'ry one wondering who he was.
Pippin:
You'd think they'd never seen a gardener before!
Merry:
And when Pimpernel Took
Asked to meet him, (Merry grinned at Pippin, who rolled his eyes)
And he gave his arm to lead her to the floor...!
I said to Pip: He did it!
Frodo did it! He did it!
They thought Sam was ecstatic
And so damned aristocratic,
And they never knew
That you
Did it!
Pippin:
Thank Heavens for Lobelia Sackville-Baggins.
If it weren't for her I would have died of boredom.
She was there, all right. And up to her old tricks.
Frodo:
Lobelia?! That dreadful Sackville-Baggins?! Was she there?
Pippin:
Yes.
That blackguard who uses her whiles and ways
More to blackmail and gossip than praise;
She made it the devilish business of hers
"To find out who this Master Underhill is."
Ev'ry time we looked around
There she was, that nosey hound
From Hobbiton.
Never leaving us alone,
Never have I ever known
A ruder one.
She oiled her way around the floor.
Ev'ry trick that she could play,
She used to strip his mask away.
And when at last the Ball was done,
She glowed as if she knew she'd won!
And with a voice to eager,
And a smile too broad,
She announced to the hostess
That he was a fraud!
Frodo (blanching):
No!
Pippin:
Oh ho!
His Shirish is too good, she said,
Which clearly indicates that he is foreign.
Whereas others are instructed in their native language
Shire folk aren't.
And although he may have studied with an expert
And he passed elsewise in Tuck,
I can tell that he was born in Buckland!
Not only Buckland, but of your blood, he is a Brandybuck!
Merry and Pippin (hugging and toasting an ill-looking Frodo):
Congratulations, Mr. Baggins,
For your glorious victory!
Congratulations, Mr. Baggins!
You'll be mentioned in history!
Congratulations,
Mr. Baggins!
For your glorious
Victory!
Congratulations,
Mister Baggins!
Sing hail and hallelujah!
Ev'ry bit of credit
For it all belongs to you!
Frodo, still feeling a bit bitter and stung by Sam's success with the ladies, accepted the toasts reluctantly and didn't bother to correct Merry and Pip when they continued speaking on how tedious it must have been to spend all of that time coaching Sam. And Merry and Pippin heartily agreed that Frodo had won the bet and had thereby proved that anyone can be turned into a gentleman with the right schooling. Frodo simply nodded, not listening, his mind elsewhere.
None noticed a certain yellow-haired hobbit in a moss green weskit, half-hidden behind a nearby tree, as he turned around and quickly walked away from the celebration.
Frodo went back into the ballroom to find Sam, to say good night and again give him his congratulations, only to be told that Sam had already left - took the offer of a coach ride back to Hobbiton with the family of one of the eligible young girls, one that didn't mind going out of the way to drop him off. Frodo was puzzled and confused - it wasn't like Sam not to say something to Frodo before leaving. But, perhaps this is what Sam wanted - he'd found his lass, thanks to his fine new manners and speech. Frodo sighed and made his way back to his room for the night. Somehow, he didn't know why, his heart was heavy - even though it seemed as though the night had been a success beyond all his expectations. But he was too tired to try to understand why.
Later that night, in a coach heading to Hobbiton, Sam, who was the only one awake on board as the coach jostled along the road, looked morosely out the window and sang softly, sadly, to himself:
(singing)
Just you wait, Frodo Baggins, just you wait
You'll be sorry, but your tears will be too late
You will be the one it's done to, but there'll be no one to run to
Just you wait....
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