Of Endings and Beginnings

Series: The Road Goes Ever On And On: 1/ ?
Author: Sam / samwise_baggins@yahoo.co.uk
Pairing: Frodo / Sam
Rating: G
Summary: This chapter, it's decided that Frodo will
live with Bilbo. Frodo meets Sam for the first time.
Disclaimer: LotR is a trademark of JRR Tolkien and his
surviving children. I am in no way connected with
these people, and I do not claim ownership to these
characters, lands, or names. I have borrowed them to
share a story… and most likely not a story Tolkien
would have written, had he had the time or no. I am
making no money from this, and it is just for my
entertainment, and that of free entertainment to a
select group of friends. Thank You.
Warning: Angst
Authors Note: This is from a Plot Bunny by Sabrina. As
ages and names are so confusing to reference, I have
written up a timeline from Professor Tolkien's books,
and you can find it at this link:
http://www.geocities.com/samwise_baggins/timeline.htm.
The timeline is continually being updated as I have
time, but if you see an error, please let me know.
Also, as there are two differing opinions on when
Frodo went to live with Bilbo, I have created
timelines for both version.
Feedback: Please? I love comments.
Archiving: Please ask first?

~~~~~~~

          Numb.

          That was how he felt. If asked by just one more
person, that's what he'd say, too. He didn't care if
he shocked anyone either. Couldn't they see how he
felt? Did they have to ask every minute of the day? It
was annoying. Okay, so he wasn't just numb; he was
angry, too, and certainly *not* hungry. Angry,
resentful, hurt, confused, scared, not hungry…
somewhere in there numb got completely overwhelmed and
was lost.

          Like his parents.

          Frodo shook himself to chase away the tears, but it
didn't help. They kept building and building until,
finally, they broke free. Then the tears wouldn't
stop. He could feel great sobs piling up, too. It was
a matter of mere seconds before Frodo's tiny body was
wracked with the grief: a grief so terribly big for
such a small Hobbit.


          Lobelia, Frodo's much older cousin, turned around to
study the mourning twelve-year-old. She fingered her
lips, frowning, and watched thoughtfully. Why had the
child picked now to break down? There were very few
Hobbits present just now, only the
Sackville-Bagginses, the main Brandybuck branch, and
that odd Bilbo Baggins. What did Frodo hope to gain by
staying stony-faced through most of the day's visitors
then start crying like there was no tomorrow when…
	
          She stopped and checked the room again: Master of
Buckland and Bilbo Baggins, two of the most powerful
and wealthy Hobbits in the Shire. It now made perfect
sense to Lobelia. The little brat knew he'd need to
live on someone else's charity so he'd chosen to put
on this display of grief for the two Hobbits who could
give him the most. Lobelia could see the flaw,
however.

          Rorimac Brandybuck had two grown sons of his own.
Frodo wouldn't get much out of Goldfather Brandybuck.
The man would be more interested in his own sons,
Saradoc and Merimac. And Bilbo? He was an odd duck,
all things considered. Wandering off on adventures,
consorting with Dwarves and Elves, encouraging that
Gandalf… Lobelia shuddered at the list of
transgressions Bilbo had conspired to accomplish.
          
          The sound of Frodo's tears brought her frowning back
to reality. She'd be stuck watching the brat; she was
certain of the fact. Her, with a son four years older
than the boy, too. As if she needed the orphaned son
of a pair of Hobbits who'd actually drowned... another
shudder wracked her and she drew her shawl closer. To
even have gone into a boat was foolishness beyond
understanding, but to allow themselves to fall out and
drown? She couldn't understand anyone quite so odd as
all that.


          Bilbo frowned in sympathy with the grieving boy.
Immediately he walked over and simply stood, quietly,
smoking his pipe. He didn't speak to the lad, nor in
any other way try to touch or comfort him, content to
just be there next to him. Finally, after long moments
as Frodo started to quiet a bit and Merimac Brandybuck
walked away after giving a bracing, useless speech,
Bilbo softly spoke.

          "I'm lonely."

          Frodo looked up, still sniffling and hiccuping. He
snorted, trying to get his breath and talk to this
unusual Hobbit next to him. "Why would you be lonely?"
His voice came out as hostile, resentful. The young
Hobbit wanted to lash out at everyone who'd made the
numbness go away, and Bilbo was the available target.

          He was surprised though, when Bilbo merely smiled
wistfully. "I'm all alone up there at Bag End in
Hobbiton, lad. Of course, I do get visitors time and
again, but it's never the same. Visitors show up when
they're least wanted and keep you doing and feeling
all sorts of things you don't need. Family lets you
get on with living life the way that pleases you most,
but they're there to keep you from getting lonely,
too."

          The boy was intrigued. That was just as he was
feeling right then. He didn't want all these visitors
asking him stupid questions or making him feel worse
by talking about things being better and such. He
wanted his parents back. His mother's laughter, his
father's wide smile… he wanted his family back.
"Yeah," he grunted at the older Hobbit, just to
acknowledge that he agreed.

          Bilbo nodded. "I miss someone to sit across from
during elvensies and to argue over the last tea cake
with."

          Frodo looked up. He'd never been allowed to argue
over his father taking the last teacake. His father
had merely been allowed to have it because he was
'Father'. "Shouldn't argue over tea cakes."

          "Hmmm," Bilbo looked down again out of the corner of
his eye, "that's just what my mother would say. My
father would get the last cake, and sometimes I
wondered why I couldn't have it… 'specially since my
father would claim he was full. But, every day, tea
time, Father got that cake."

          "Yeah," Frodo grudgingly admitted, again. He started
studying the older Hobbit, taking in the soft eyes,
roly-poly build, and gentle smile. Smile? "Hey! You're
smiling! Everyone else is trying to look sad or their
crying, but you aren't." He wasn't certain if he
should get angry or curious, so Frodo settled for
indignant.

          Bilbo nodded. "I'm smiling because I finally found an
intelligent conversation. Last one I had was with your
mother, rest her. Good Hobbit, that one." Bilbo
finally looked directly at him.

          Wide blue eyes turned up to meet gentle hazel ones.
He'd only heard inanities about his mother before,
unless he overheard insults he wasn't meant to. No one
had ever said anything nice and meant it. Frodo
studied the older Hobbit to see if *he* meant what
he'd just said.

          Bilbo's gaze never wavered. He smiled softly at the
lad, letting him look for whatever it was he needed to
see. And apparently, Frodo must've found what he
sought for a tiny wet hand snaked into Bilbo's lax,
soft one. Bilbo gave that hand a gentle squeeze.
Suddenly, his arms were full of sobbing, squirming
Hobbit lad.

          Frodo couldn't hold back anymore. He had launched
himself at his cousin and started crying into a
well-clothed shoulder. Instinctively, he tried to
burrow into Bilbo, sobbing and clutching. He'd found
sympathy and kindness in the older man's eyes; he'd
found support, not pity. He'd found, maybe, a bit of
home.


          Lobelia wrinkled her nose, as if something offensive
had just wafted in on the summer breeze. Naturally,
the child would pick the odd Bilbo to cozen up to.
After all, the other Hobbits present had children of
their own. None of them would rightly be fooled into
taking in a half-breed. Of course, it had never been
confirmed that Frodo was anything but pure Hobbit, but
Lobelia had her suspicions.

          The lad was thin, terribly so, as if he hadn't eaten
in weeks. He had those large, unusual eyes, and that
pale, pale skin. And, he was the son of that Primula
Brandybuck, whose mother was a Took. If anything was
proof, that was. After all, everyone knew the Tooks
were the oddest sort of Hobbits. There were even
rumors that one of those Tooks had brought home an
infant that was part Elf.

          Lobelia shuddered in delicious offense at the
thought. Unnatural: that's what he was. That Frodo
child was as unnatural as they come. Let the Baggins
have the child. It would be a good paring. Bilbo was
even odder than a Took, consorting with all sorts and
going off on adventures. If the child had been from a
normal family, Lobelia might protest, but he'd been
from Drogo's line… and Drogo had gone and got his self
and his wife drowned.

          She walked over to her own beloved son, Lotho,
sixteen and pimply but with good promise. At least,
Lobelia saw it as promise. Others saw it as greed and
sloth. "Come, Lotho dear, we're going."

          "But I thought as you were gonna try to get some of
the dead guy's stuff. Maybe take in his brat so you
could get it all." Lotho whined when he spoke.

          Lobelia smiled indulgently. "Nothing here is worth
keeping. Come, Lotho, and Mum will get you a trinket
at market."

          The teenager let out a belch; having just finished
off a healthy plate of whatever had been served on the
wake buffet. He patted his roll of a gut and stomped
out after his mother, not even bothering to glance
back at the still wailing orphan. He was just glad he
wouldn't have to share his Mum with that brat.


          Rorimac watched the child in sympathy. He had been
about to approach when Bilbo had made the first
advances, causing Rory to pause in his forward
momentum. No one really understood Bilbo Baggins, but
the child seemed to take to him instantly. At least he
was letting go some of those emotions he'd bottled up,
according to near anyone who'd been there that day.

          Old Rory rubbed his knee, an old weather injury. His
eyes traveled over to his own sons, who had both
barely Come-Of-Age, then back to the tiny, thin Hobbit
orphan. Nothing normal about that lad could be
observed. He didn't look like a proper Hobbit. But he
*was* a Hobbit, and Rory had a large heart. He nodded
to himself, but paused again before moving. Frodo had
just wailed and thrown himself at the old adventurer.

          As Lobelia made a few rude comments and left with her
annoying son, Rory approached the pair, signaling his
own family to let them have space. The Master of
Buckland paused just next to the pair and waited
quietly, watching. Finally, he spoke up.

          "Lad? It can't be easy, losing someone you love. But,
you've got people to take you in." He straightened and
cleared his throat. "Like to offer you a place,
actually. My boys are grown, but I've a good home to a
lad your age, and you won't want for anything."

          Frodo slowly looked up, still burrowed against Bilbo.
He looked over at Goldfather Brandybuck. After a brief
moment, he realized that this Hobbit, too, was sincere
in his sympathy and offer of kindness. He looked back
up to Bilbo's face. Frodo froze.
          
          Bilbo had tears on his cheeks.

          Crying? Why would he be crying? It wasn't his parents
lost just that weekend. Frodo frowned, rudely ignoring
Rory Brandybuck in his curiosity over Bilbo's off
behavior. "You didn't cry before; why you crying now?"

          Bilbo smiled gently, pulling out an ever-present
handkerchief to mop his eyes. "Well, I suppose, lad,
that your tears made mine fall. I miss Primula and
Drogo; that's the truth of it. And it hurts a bit. But
when you broke down like that, I suppose it made my
heart realize that it should release the pain so it
can enjoy them a bit more."

          Rory backed off a couple of steps to give the boy
some time to deal with this before renewing his offer
to take him in.

          The child frowned, blue eyes luminous and troubled.
"How can you enjoy them? They're dead." The statement
was blunt, painfully so. Everyone left in the room
winced at the harshness of it. Frodo ignored them.
"Can't enjoy nothing."

          Bilbo nodded. "Yes you can, my boy. You can enjoy the
memories of the happy times. But that'd be awfully
hard with the pain of grief blocking them in. So, you
need to release the pain and find the happy times." He
held up a hand. "Never said it's an easy thing, 'cause
it's not, lad. But it is possible."

          Frodo glared resentfully at Bilbo. He'd just admitted
that he was upset and now this old Hobbit wanted him
to let that go and be happy? He was a fool. "Yeah? And
why should I? I lost my Papa and Mum. I don't wanna be
happy ever again!" And he tore off his cap and threw
it across the room, the bit of cloth slapping into the
feet of Hamfast Gamgee, who'd just entered the room.

          Everyone in the room froze.

          Even Frodo lifted guilty eyes to the Hobbit called
the Gaffer. Those who'd been present during the
tantrum were all of the upper class Hobbits, ones with
money and leisure time. However, Gaffer Gamgee was a
working Hobbit, as was his father before him. How
would he react to this spoiled display of temper?

          Gaffer grunted, looking over at Frodo and Bilbo. He
squatted down, scooped up the cap, and walked over to
the pair. Slipping off his own cap, he held out
Frodo's in his free hand. "You dropped your hat,
Mister Frodo. Don't want to lose that, now, or you
might get too much sun in your eyes and develop a
squint."

          Flushing, the room still silent around him, Frodo
reached for his cap. Gaffer pulled it back slightly,
frowning at the child. His wife and four children
toddled up behind him, Bell extremely pregnant. The
Gaffer merely continued to study Frodo, who looked
back in fascinated dread.

          "So, you're upset because your parents done died and
left you behind, Mister Frodo? Hmmm…"

          Frodo flushed brighter and hung his head, hand
dropping, empty, to his side.

          "Yup. Felt same way when Holman Greenhand curled up
his toes. 'Course, he was me cousin, not me Da, but
it's the same thing in the end. Me Da's a roper, and a
sight good one, Mister Frodo, but Holman? He taught me
all I know about gardening. I went and lived with him
when I was young. Decided I didn't want to make rope,
so I went to Hobbiton and took up with Holman. Now I
work for Mister Bilbo, like Holman a'fore me, and I
couldn't never be happier. But I miss Holman something
fierce at times, Mister Frodo, that's the truth."

          Slowly, the boy looked up into the gentle green eyes
above him. Gaffer Gamgee merely looked back, face set
and serious. There was kindness in his eyes, like
Bilbo and Rory. Suddenly, Frodo felt almost
overwhelmed by the amount of Hobbits in the room. He
looked around, seeing only sympathy, not torment. Was
it just these Hobbits who cared, or had everyone been
this nice and he too blind to see it?

          Gaffer held out the cap again and Frodo's eyes shot
to it. He reached out, hesitated, and then raised his
eyes to Gaffer's again. Slowly, without looking away
from Hamfast Gamgee's eyes, Frodo took his cap and put
it back on his dark curls. "Thank you." The words were
soft and heartfelt.

          Rory was about to repose his offer when a host of
noise entered the room. Everyone whirled around to see
Eglantine Took and her two girls come in, both
children laughing while their harassed mother tried to
hush them. Paladin Took followed, smiling and ignoring
his family. Instead, he walked directly over to Frodo,
arrange his face in a suitably somber mask, and said,
"Well, lad, can't say as I agree with your parents
sporting on the river, but that's no way to go. Good
people, the Bagginses. Would you like to come to Great
Smials and live with us, lad? We've got no boys, but
you're more than welcome to join the family."

          Saradoc Brandybuck, eldest of Rory's two children,
frowned. He'd always competed with Paladin for
everything, and this new 'challenge' sparked him. "Why
would he want to go all the way to Great Smials? He'll
come live at Brandyhall where he belongs. After all,
his mother was a Brandybuck." Rory groaned at his
son's impetuousness.

          Paladin strode away from Frodo and frowned at his
rival. "What do you mean Brandyhall's where he
belongs? You're not Master of Buckland yet, Saradoc…"

          "Stop it!"

          Everyone turned to look at Bell Gamgee. She was
flushed and clutching her great stomach, gasping to
catch her breath. She looked up at them. "Please,
don't start fighting. The child's had a rough enough
time. You've both plenty of time to have sons of your
own. Let the boy decide where he'll go." As she was
wife to the Gaffer, Bell really had no right to be
correcting the two gentlehobbits, but they allowed it,
perhaps due to her condition, or maybe in deference to
her noted wisdom. Bell, formerly a Goodchild, was well
known for her wisdom.

          Now everyone turned to look at Frodo, including the
children. He looked from one face to another, feeling
something start overwhelming him. Too many people, too
many voices, too much noise… he stepped back,
intending to escape so he could think, but he bumped
into something large and solid behind him. Slowly,
Frodo tipped his head up to look into gentle hazel
eyes and made a decision.

          "You… I wanna live with you, Cousin Bilbo."

          Bilbo smiled and nodded. "All right then. You'll come
to Bag End and we'll be a family." He squatted down to
look Frodo in the eyes. "And if we feel like we don't
want to be near each other, why Bag End's big enough
to wander alone in."

          Alone… that sounded good about now. Too many people
had come by that day. He'd started out numb, unable to
put up with all the 'How are you' questions, and now
he had more people asking him things. But instead of
the stupid question about how he was, they were asking
Frodo to come live with them. But he felt like a tea
set, not a person with them. Bilbo made him feel like
a person.

          Before the others could raise a fuss and try to argue
the matter, Bell lifted one hand, the other still
clutching at her now rippling belly. "It's settled.
The child will come to Hobbiton and live with Bilbo
Baggins. Now, let's talk about other things, shall we?
I'm sure Frodo wants time to get to know his cousin,
and I for one would like a chair."

          The Gaffer frowned at his wife's presumption, but
again no one refuted her. He eased her into the chair
as Frodo watched, still pressed backwards against
Bilbo. Rory rubbed his leg as his son and Paladin Took
grumbled a bit, but eventually the three men moved
over to the buffet and started discussing topics,
which didn't include Frodo or children. The other
women, and the children, started eating as well. Old
Gaffer moved off to procure something for himself.

          Frodo watched, fascinated, as Bell's tummy rippled
again. He'd never seen a tummy so large, or so mobile,
before… unless you counted old Odo Proudfoot, and his
tummy didn't move like this. "Ma'am? His current grief
was overshadowed again by a Hobbit's insatiable
curiosity. "Why's your tummy moving?"

          Bell smiled and gently reached over to pull him
close. She took his tiny hand and placed it on her
tummy. He felt it jab at him, jumping. She laughed
softly. "That's my baby, Frodo Baggins. He'll be born
soon, too. I think he'll be born when the moon is high
and full."

          Frodo had never gotten his parents to tell him where
baby Hobbits came from. They kept saying he could wait
a bit to know. Now, this was the perfect time to get
an answer at last. "How'd the baby get in there? You
swallow him?"

          Her laughter rang out at that. "On no, sweetheart. I
didn't swallow the baby. He grew in there. When
Hobbits get married they sleep in the same bed. And
sometimes, a baby comes along. The baby grows in his
Mama's tummy, and then he comes out and is born."

          "How's he get out?"

          Bell smiled gently. "How old are you, Frodo Baggins?"

          He frowned, unsure what *that* had to do with it.
"Twelve, ma'am."

          She nodded. "Then it's time you found out. Come, sit
down and I'll tell you."


          It was two hours later when Bell was done answering
Frodo's questions. He shook his head, unsure if he
really believed her yet or not. He couldn't believe
anyone would… yuck! Looking up at Bell, Frodo felt an
intense longing for his mother. Tears welled up again.
He wanted his Mum to tell him where babies came from
not some gardener's wife, but she'd never get to. She
was dead. Frodo started to resentfully pull his hand
away when the baby kicked again, right where his hand
was. Frodo froze, eyes widening.

          Bell laughed. "I think he likes you. Normally he's
pretty quiet, but he's been jumping around since we
came in the door."

          Frodo didn't respond to her, watching his hand in
fascination, almost not breathing. He waited, hoping
that the baby would kick again. It was odd, knowing a
tiny baby Hobbit was inside there… kicking at him,
like the baby knew he was there and who he was. He
wanted the baby to know he was there.

          Bell laughed as Frodo jumped. The infant had indeed
kicked again, taking the thoughtful boy by surprise.
"Well, I think you'll be great friends, Frodo
Baggins."

          "Can't. He's a baby and I'm twelve." Frodo's voice
was matter-of-fact.

          Another laugh. "Oh, Frodo, do you think that all
friends are the same age? Come now. Age doesn't
matter. It's how you love someone that matters. Do you
want to know what I saw when I walked in this room?"

          "Me crying?"
          
          "No," Bell touched the tip of his nose and Frodo
wiggled it in reaction. "I didn't mean that. I meant,
what I saw for the future."

          Frodo's eyes grew so large they threatened to engulf
his face. "You can see the future?" His voice was an
awed whisper.

          "Hmmm… sometimes, Frodo. But I only feel like I know
it. I don't actually see it." Bell smiled. "Would you
like to know what I felt?"

          The child nodded his head vigorously. "Uh huh….
Please?"

          Bell shifted slowly in her chair, reaching out to
more firmly set Frodo's hand on her belly. "I saw four
families who maybe fight, maybe laugh, but will be
very close."

          "But we none of us live near each other. Well, 'cept
maybe Bilbo and you."

          Bell nodded. "That's true. But that's what I felt.
Somehow, someday, the families in this room will be
great friends. And someday, you will have a friend you
love so much, you'd give up everything in the whole
world to keep that friend safe."

          Frodo stood, thinking that over. "Do you think,
maybe, it'll be one of your kids? Like maybe Halfred?"
Frodo jerked his chin in the direction of Bell's
eleven-year-old son. He jumped when the baby kicked,
as if to say, 'Are you insane? *I'm* here.'

          The woman laughed again and hugged Frodo with one
arm. "It's possible."

          Somehow, Frodo didn't think so. He watched his hand,
thinking about the tiny life inside this Hobbit's
woman's womb, and smiled slowly. "I think not, Ma'am.
Not Halfred." But Frodo wouldn't explain further when
Bell cocked an eyebrow at him. Instead, he leaned
close and whispered, "Hello, baby… I'm Frodo."

          The baby fluttered briefly, almost unnoticeably, and
seemed to settle down.

          Frodo was glad he didn't feel numb anymore.

TBC


Concerning Babies

Series: The Road Goes Ever On And On: 2/ ?
Author: Sam / samwise_baggins@yahoo.co.uk
Pairing: Frodo / Sam
Rating: PG (for birth)
Summary: This chapter, Frodo has to decide whether he
really wants to share Mrs. Gamgee with her newborn
son.
Disclaimer: LotR is a trademark of JRR Tolkien and his
surviving children. I am in no way connected with
these people, and I do not claim ownership to these
characters, lands, or names. I have borrowed them to
share a story… and most likely not a story Tolkien
would have written, had he had the time or no. I am
making no money from this, and it is just for my
entertainment, and that of free entertainment to a
select group of friends. Thank You.
Warning: Angst
Authors Note: This is from a Plot Bunny by Sabrina. As
ages and names are so confusing to reference, I have
written up a timeline from Professor Tolkien's books,
and you can find it at this link:
http://www.geocities.com/samwise_baggins/timeline.htm.
The timeline is continually being updated as I have
time, but if you see an error, please let me know.
Also, as there are two differing opinions on when
Frodo went to live with Bilbo, I have created
timelines for both versions.
Feedback: Please? I love comments.
Archiving: Please ask first?

~~~~~~~

       "No, Fwodo, Mama sick." The little girl crossed her
arms glaring at the larger Hobbit lad standing in the
doorway. “No stowies. You get youw own Mama and weave
mine awone!”
	
       Frodo paled and felt as if a fist had hit him in the
gut. He immediately hugged himself, looking down at
the four-year-old. “But…” how could he tell her
without crying? How could he just say ‘But my mum’s
dead,” without howling in pain. He’d already left the
anger behind. Three weeks in Bag End had quickly cured
that. But the pain… it only seemed to get worse.
	
       The nights were bad with nightmares and shady images.
The days were a bit better, since it was always light
and there was always something to do with Bilbo
around. But it wasn’t the same as having a Mama. Thus,
Frodo had taken to daily visiting Bell Gamgee.
	
       She told him stories and let him taste whatever she
was baking. Frodo had half made up his mind to marry
her when old Gaffer died. Then he’d always have her
around. He just wasn’t going to tell her that. She
might think it was yucky or something.
	
       But now, there stood tiny May Gamgee imperiously
demanding Frodo leave her mother alone. And she’d just
said Bell was sick, too. Frodo frowned and looked past
the girl into the small, neat living space. “How
sick?” he hadn’t even intended to ask out loud.
	
        “Vewy sick. Mama in bed. We can’t see hew none.”
	
       Frodo pushed past the little girl, ignoring her
indignant gasp and hurried words of anger. Bell
couldn’t be sick; he needed her! If she was sick, she
might die, and then whom’d he have? Bilbo was great,
but he wasn’t enough. And what about the baby?
	
       Frodo rushed past the older children without a second
glance, ignoring their gasps and questions. He pushed
open Bell Gamgee’s bedroom door and froze at what he
saw. Frodo turned and hurried out, letting the door
close behind him.
	
       There was little May Gamgee right behind him. She
stamped her foot and indignantly scolded, "I towd you
Mama sick!"
	
       The older boy nodded. "Uh… so, um, May…" he didn't
know what to say. He'd know since he'd first talked to
Bell that she'd have the baby, but he didn't really
*think* about it. Would she like the baby more? She'd
have to love the baby more; he'd be her own son.
Intense pain and worry filled the small Hobbit. He
didn't want to lose Bell, too.
	
       Suddenly, the baby, whom Frodo had been looking
forward to these three weeks, sounded less
interesting. In fact, Frodo was starting to think he
might not even like him. Why should he? It'd be a
tiny, crying brat hogging all of Bell's attention.
	
       Gaffer's appearance from the family room interrupted
the boy's jealous thoughts. "Well, Master Frodo. Come
to visit us again." He sounded perfectly normal, not
excited or worried or anything. Something about his
eyes, though, bespoke the turmoil of emotions in the
older man.
	
       "She's having the baby, Gaffer."
	
       "Aye, that she is." The Gaffer walked away, towards
the back rooms, followed by little May. Frodo
impulsively followed the gardener, craving attention
from at least someone. None of them spoke as they
walked to the end of the hall and entered the small
room there.
	
       It was indeed small, but that may have been due to
the amount of furniture in there. A cradle and a
changing board set over a child's play table, a pen to
put a toddler in next to a sturdy child's bed, a toy
chest in the corner, closed, piled high with freshly
laundered diapers: the room seemed to have barely
enough room to move. May started looking in a chest of
drawers at the back of the room, right next to a small
window.
	
       Gaffer took a soft blanket from the cradle and turned
to go, bumping into the curious Frodo. The two looked
at each other in silence, eyes never wavering.
Finally, Gaffer broke the mood by placing a work-worn
hand on Frodo's thin shoulder. "Missus Gamgee's gonna
be needed to care for the babe, lad. Won't have much
time for baking no more. Plenty o' time for stories,
though, with a babe in arms."
	
       Wide blue eyes registered hesitancy. "Stories? She'd
still have time for stories, even with a baby,
Gaffer?"
	
       "A'yup. Reckon she will. Had plenty o' time for
stories with the others; don't see why this time'd be
so different. She'll be sitting in the rocking chair
most times, telling stories an' singing songs to the
babe. Sometimes the other children'll go and join in.
You want you should come down and tell your own
stories, Master Frodo?"
	
       Frodo considered that. It sounded somehow better…
nicer: the family joining round for stories and songs.
When the older kids had chores, Frodo'd have Bell and
the baby to himself. Even little May had chores, so
there *would* be private time. Maybe… maybe the baby
would give Bell more time for Frodo, since she'd be
sitting a lot.
	
       He smiled.
	
       The older Hobbit nodded and hesitated then handed the
soft blanket to the lad. "Here. Bell's gonna want it
for the babe. You give it to her, lad."
	
       May turned, stunned, her green eyes wide. "But, Papa,
you said no one's 'wowed to see Mama. We have to wait
out hewe. Mama's sick!"
	
       With a soft grunt, Gaffer disagreed. "And you ain't
allowed in until your Mama's had some rest, neither.
But Master Frodo's what puts bread on our table, so
he's allowed to see your Mama and the baby first. You
gonna argue with me, girl?" He crossed his arms and
glared at the four-year-old with a menacing look.
	
       The child shook her head, auburn curls bouncing. "No,
Papa." Her voice was quiet, resentful. She'd been
forbidden in the sickroom and now the boy from up the
hill was allowed in to see *her* Mama? She glared at
Frodo as Gaffer passed by them, heading for the living
are again. "I *hate* you, Fwodo Baggins. You hewe me?
I *hate* you." With that, she tore off to join her
family, tears of hurt pouring down her cheeks.
	
       Frodo felt a stab of guilt; he hadn't meant for May
to get upset. Rather quickly, however, the guilt
turned to elation. He was going to get to see Bell
first. He was gonna give her the special baby blanket.
He was the only one allowed in until after Bell slept.
The twelve-year-old hugged the soft blanket, rubbing
his cheek against it. "I'll be good and quiet," he
promised himself.


       The wait was long and dull by Frodo's thinking. It
had been three hours since he'd first shown up. Three
hours of wanting to go see Bell and the baby and being
told it wasn't time yet. When would it be time? If
they waited too long, the others would see her first.
For the dozenth time, Frodo looked towards Gaffer.
	
       "Now?" He stroked the blanket with a restless hand.
	
       Gaffer, like every time before, tilted his head as if
listening for something. The boy joined him, straining
to hear whatever it was the adult was trying to
perceive. Silence called back to them, just like every
time before. Hamfast opened his mouth to answer when
suddenly everything changed.
	
       A thin baby's wail broke the stillness. Every person
in the room jumped and turned towards Gaffer, eyes
wide, breaths held. Gaffer went pale. He listened to
the baby's crying, hands clenching the arm rests of
his favorite, worn out chair. That thin cry seemed to
go on and on, without pause for breath.
	
       Frodo stood, smiling, about to go down the hall to
greet the new baby when Gaffer's hand shot out and
gripped his elbow hard. He didn't say a word, just
listening intently. The boy frowned and paused,
listening.
	
       The baby had stopped crying.
	
       It sounded so eerie, that silence, with only the
ticking of the clock and the breathing of the family
to break it. Not understanding, the boy shook his head
and looked towards his cousin's gardener. His voice
was soft, confused, as he spoke.
	
       "What's wrong, Gaffer? The baby's born now. We can
see her, right?"
	
       Hamfast looked up at his employer's adopted nephew.
"No… have to wait until the midwife comes for us. She
has to make sure that Bell and the babe are well
enough. Mighta been complications, Master Frodo." His
voice shook with a hidden, deep fear for his wife and
newest child.
	
       May spoke up from where she played with her wooden
doll. "I wanna sistew. Boys awe mean."
	
       Hamson and Halfred looked at the child, Halfred
rolling his eyes. Hamson merely shook his head,
looking as worried as his father. Daisy hugged
herself, her chubby face flushed, eyes bright with
anticipation. Hamfast shrugged. "Be nice to have a
girl." He didn't seem to have a preference either way,
actually.
	
       "It'll be a boy," was Frodo's pronouncement. He was
certain the baby was a boy. He'd been certain since
the time he met Bell, when the baby kicked him so
hard. "And he's not sick. Neither are. I'm gonna go
see them." The boy, used to being an only child and
getting his own way in most things, headed down the
hall at a run.
	
       Gaffer pushed himself up from his chair to follow,
but Hamson beat him to it, sprinting after the smaller
boy. The fifteen-year-old managed to grasp their
visitor's arm and whirl him around. "You wanna see
Mama without her drawers, covered in blood?"
	
       Frodo froze. "What…"
	
       "You heard me. You gotta know where babies come from,
Mister Frodo. Don't tell me you want to actually see
it." Hamson let go of the younger boy.
	
       Stunned, Frodo shook his head. "No… I don't want to
see *that*. That's sick."
	
       Hamson nodded. "Well, if you don't wait for the
midwife to clean her up, that's exactly what you're
gonna see, sir. You gotta give them time."
	
       "Blood? Time?" the boy was having trouble grasping
that anyone could bleed without being seriously hurt.
"The baby made her bleed?"
	
       Rolling his eyes, impatient and not wanting to
explain the mechanics of a delivery, Hamson nodded.
"Sure it did."
	
       Automatically, Frodo corrected, "Him."
	
       "It. We ain't got any idea if it's a boy yet. Most
like it's a girl, actually. Girls are born more and we
already got two boys in this family." Hamson reached
out and shook Frodo's arm. "Now come back and sit down
like a good lad, Mister Frodo."
	
       He nodded. Sit down. Wait. It seemed that's all he
ever did, but he didn't complain. Instead, he nodded
again and started turning towards the living room. His
movement was arrested by Bell's door opening.
	
       A disheveled old Hobbit woman shuffled out. She was
taking off a stained apron, smiling and looking
exhausted. Looking up, she nodded to both boys.
"They're fine. Both of them are fine."
	
       "Thank you, Ma'am," Hamson called. As the weary
Hobbit smiled and went off to tell the rest of the
family, Hamson turned to Frodo and pinched his elbow.
"Mama won't wanna see you for awhile. She'll be too
busy with the baby. It's happened every time so far,
so don't be surprised if she doesn't really even look
at you. After all, you're not even one of her
children, are you? You're just an orphan from up the
hill who hangs around here because you have nothing
important to do." He let go and headed back for the
family room.
	
       Frodo was stunned. He followed Hamson with his large
eyes. Why had the older boy said those mean things? He
didn't want to be an orphan after all. Unable to
comprehend why first May then Hamson has reacted so
nastily towards him, the troubled Hobbit lad slowly
walked to the room of the person he felt most
comfortable with: Bell Gamgee.
	
       He was going to knock, but decided at the last minute
that the baby might be sleeping and knocking would
wake him up. So, Frodo walked in without warning. He
smiled in relief when he noted that Bell looked tired
and worn, but healthy enough.
	
       She was awake, half sitting against a huge mound of
pillows. There was a sheet draped over her waist and
legs. The woman had a very loose nightdress on and her
soft brown hair was in disarray, curls everywhere. But
there was a smile on the woman's face as she looked up
from the baby in her arms.
	
       "Hello, Frodo. Come on in. Oh! You have the blanket."
	
       Frodo smiled hesitantly, worry shooting through him
at the exhaustion in her voice. "Yes'm. Here it is.
Just for him… is it a him?"
	
       Bell nodded, smiling down at the infant once more.
"Yes. He's a boy. Come see, Frodo. You'll be the
first. Hamfast keeps the children out for a day so I
can rest after birth." She smiled gently up at the boy
she'd befriended three weeks ago.
	
       With a happy sigh, Frodo immediately walked over,
still hugging the soft blanket. He looked at the baby
she held, curious about this new life… the boy that
might take Bell away or bring her close.
	
       The baby was asleep. He had a weirdly pointed head,
and his face was still red and extremely chubby. There
weren't any curls on the baby's head. In fact, he was
completely covered in a light fuzz, but he was totally
bald. There wasn't much about the infant to draw a
twelve-year-old's interest, in fact.
	
       "What do you think, Frodo?" Bell's voice was soft.
	
       "Uh…" the dark haired boy tried to think of something
nice to say. In his honest opinion, the baby was the
ugliest thing he'd ever seen. But he knew you couldn't
tell a mother that, even if she was your best friend.
"He's… small?"
	
       Bell laughed. "Yes, very small. For all that kicking,
he's such a tiny thing, isn't he?"
	
       Frodo grinned and nodded. "Yeah, he sure kicked hard,
didn’t he, Bell?" This was a better topic. This way he
wouldn't insult the baby. "I think he's maybe the
strongest baby around. He'll be a strong Hobbit when
he grows up, right, Bell?"
	
       "Right. He's not much to look at, is he, Frodo? But
I'll tell you something. That pointed head will round
down in a few days, and he'll started getting his hair
in and losing that soft furry hair. And then he'll be
the most beautiful baby in the Shire."
	
       Trying to picture this infant like Bell described him
wasn't easy. Frodo scrunched his eyes and looked hard
at the baby. He turned his head this way and that, but
it still changed nothing. The baby was bald with a
pointed head. He was ugly.
	
       Then, without warning, the baby woke up. When he
opened those soft gray-green eyes and looked straight
up at Frodo with that open curiosity, the boy fell
head over heels. "Oh! He's beautiful, Bell!" Frodo
reached out and stroked a finger down the soft cheek.
"He's perfect!" The infant instinctively turned his
head towards the finger, searching.
	
       Bell laughed softly. "So you agree with me, then?
That's good. The way you looked was like I made you
drink sour milk." Bell adjusted the baby in her arms
and smiled again. "Frodo, could you leave for a bit?
I'm going to feed the baby, and I'd like to be alone
with him for his first few meals. Is that all right,
sweetheart?"
	
       Expecting jealousy to well up at being sent away,
Frodo was mildly surprised to find he couldn't get
jealous. He'd have Bell later. Right now it was the
baby's turn. The child nodded, smiling and stroking
the chubby cheek again. "Uh huh. Want me to come back
after luncheon?"
	
       "Of course. We'll tell stories and sing to the baby,
and you can tell him anything you want. He won't
tell." Bell watched as Frodo continued stroking her
newest child's cheek. "Frodo… you can hold him later.
He's hungry right now."
	
       As if coming out of a spell, Frodo's head shot up and
he flushed a bit. "Oh… uh… yeah. Okay. Um…. After
luncheon, 'kay? Promise?" He longed for reassurances
that Hamson had lied. That this wasn't the first step
of Bell pushing him away.
	
       A gentle hand on his cheek reassured him. "I promise,
Frodo. I'll send for you after luncheon and you may
hold the baby."
	
       He nodded and smiled wide, eyes lighting up in
pleasure. "Okay, then. Have a nice rest, Bell." He
darted for the door. The sooner baby got to eat; the
sooner he could come back. At the door, Frodo suddenly
whirled around. He'd forgotten to ask! "Um, Bell?
What's his name?"
	
       Bell looked up from her son, a tenderness in her eyes
that Frodo wished he could see again and again. She
adjusted the infant against her, his head moving
against her nightdress, searching for food. Softly,
she called out, "Samwise. I'll name him Samwise."
	
       Frodo nodded and left, the door closing softly behind
him. He leaned against it thinking about those
beautiful soft eyes and that sweet searching trust.
Samwise. Yes, he could share Bell with the baby. That
baby was worth it.

TBC

=====


How Love Works

Series: The Road Goes Ever On And On: 3/ ?
Author: Sam / samwise_baggins@yahoo.co.uk
Pairing: Frodo / Sam
Rating: G
Summary: This chapter, Frodo is confronted with just
how different he is from the Gamgees.
Disclaimer: LotR is a trademark of JRR Tolkien and his
surviving children. I am in no way connected with
these people, and I do not claim ownership to these
characters, lands, or names. I have borrowed them to
share a story… and most likely not a story Tolkien
would have written, had he had the time or no. I am
making no money from this, and it is just for my
entertainment, and that of free entertainment to a
select group of friends. Thank You.
Warning: Angst
Authors Note: This is from a Plot Bunny by Sabrina. As
ages and names are so confusing to reference, I have
written up a timeline from Professor Tolkien's books,
and you can find it at this link:
http://www.geocities.com/samwise_baggins/timeline.htm.
The timeline is continually being updated as I have
time, but if you see an error, please let me know.
Also, as there are two differing opinions on when
Frodo went to live with Bilbo, I have created
timelines for both versions.
Feedback: Please? I love comments.
Archiving: Please ask first?

~~~~~~~

       Gaffer looked up as Frodo trailed into the room
smiling. They were all worried, as the midwife had
stopped to clean up before actually coming in. No one
yet knew how things were in the sickroom. When Hamfast
saw Frodo's smile, his shoulders relaxed ever so
slightly.

       "You get to see them, lad?"
	
       Frodo nodded in response, his smile dreamy. "Yeah.
They're wonderful. He's beautiful!"

       "He…" Gaffer breathed out, his eyes lighting up. "A
son…" he smiled, his weatherworn features relaxing
into a near cuddly appearance. "My son…"

       Nodding eagerly, the boy hurried over to Gaffer's
chair, putting his hands on the older man's knee.
"He's got the loveliest eyes, Gaffer. All green and
gray and soft and pretty. And he's so sweet and tiny.
Boy is he tiny! But he's strong and smart already."
Frodo kept babbling.

       Gaffer looked surprised, letting his eyes wander over
the pale, thin boy. He thought the baby pretty? That
was a stunner, since Frodo was one of the prettiest
Hobbit's Gaffer had ever seen. Shame he was a boy and
so thin. He'd have made a lovely girl.

       The boy kept babbling about how sweet the baby was
and how clever and good and pretty and… it was a
wonder. Frodo wasn't even related to the child and he
acted more enthralled than most of the other children,
except eight-year-old Daisy. Gaffer couldn't help but
smile at the enthusiasm the orphaned boy displayed for
the newest member of his servant's family. It sure
beat the hurt fear he'd been displaying when Gaffer
first met the lad three weeks before.

       "Hold, lad, hold." He raised his hands as if to ward
off the flow of words from the boy. "Ye haven't told
us the boy's name yet." He knew what his wife had
wanted to call the child, but he'd let their visitor
reveal it.

       The lad didn't disappoint. He stopped babbling and
smiled beautifully, his large blue eyes softening.
"Oh, his name is Samwise. Isn't that lovely? Samwise
Gamgee."
	
       Hamson shook his head, frowning. "Where'd that name
come from? Has nothing to do with Gaffer or Mama."
	
       Halfred nodded his agreement.
	
       Frowning, Frodo tried to puzzle that one out. "Uh… I
don't know. Maybe Sam is for Ham? And wise… uh…"
	
       "My brother is Andwise. She's named him for my
brother." Gaffer seemed quite content despite the
looks of displeasure on his sons' faces. "It's a good
name."
	
       "I like it, Papa." Daisy leaned against her father,
smiling in excitement. She'd been looking forward to
the baby ever since May had started fighting being
dressed up like a doll. "Can we see him now?"
	
       He shook his head. "In the morning, Daisy girl. Your
mother needs rest after birth. It's a lot of work to
have a baby. And," he looked around the room,
"speaking of work, there's luncheon to get out and
chores to finish. Everyone get moving; ye've dawdled
enough." Groans met the Gaffer's words but not a one
of the children actually complained or back-talked.
Instead, obediently, they filed out of the room;
Halfred threw a jealous glance at their visitor.
	
       Gaffer looked at Frodo. "Will you be staying to
luncheon, Master Frodo?"
	
       "Uh huh." The boy slipped up next to the Gaffer and
walked with him. "Bell said she'd send for me after so
I can sing to Sam."
	
       "Sam, huh? Not even an hour old and you've made a pet
of him? Well, Master Frodo, I'm right honored, I am,
but Samwise'll be working more'n anything else. He'll
have a living to earn, and this family has to do that
by using their hands more'n their brains." He looked
at him. "No offense meant to you and your cousin.
Master Bilbo's a fine Hobbit and I couldn't work for
better, I'm thinking. But he's a gentlehobbit, and has
different ways to us. You understand, right, Master
Frodo?"
	
       Frodo looked up, his eyes studying Gaffer. "You mean
Sam will have chores while I play." With a nod and a
grunt, Gaffer confirmed the child's translation and
they went in to join the others making lunch. The
twelve-year-old paused in the doorway, watching the
other children for a moment. Feeling just a bit guilty
for not working, he stepped towards Halfred to help
him, but was shooed away.
	
       "I got that, Mister Frodo; it's my job and I'll do
it." He glared at the other boy, hostility radiating
from him, though Frodo couldn't understand why.
	
       Hamson refused the help, telling Frodo to stay out of
the way while Hobbits whom knew how to work got their
jobs done. Turning from the older boy, Frodo headed
towards the youngest there. May glared at him so he
double-backed towards Daisy.
	
       Of all the Gamgee children, Daisy was the most open
to Frodo, but even she refused to let him help. "No,
Frodo, I've got it. Thanks anyway." The eight-year-old
tossed him a radiant smile to remove the sting of her
reprimand. "It'll take too long to teach you, and
we're hungry *now*. You just sit at the table and wait
for luncheon."
	
       Gaffer never said a word to stop the children from
making Frodo sit instead of help. He knew the boy
meant well, but he'd have to learn the difference in
their stations, and it was best he learned it soon. He
was a gentlehobbit, not a working class Hobbit.
Therefore, Frodo wouldn't really be required to do
much work in his life. He'd have servants to do it for
him, just as the Brandybucks did. The man did,
however, offer the lad a smile for his troubles. A
good heart should always be encouraged.
	
       Finally, luncheon was ready and all of the Gamgees,
except the two in the sickroom, sat down to table with
Frodo. Gaffer started piling food on plates and
handing them round the table, Frodo being served first
as a guest. There was no talking besides the
occasional "Pass the butter" or "May I have some more
greens". Rather, the room was full of the sounds of
Hobbits eating their midday meal as neatly and
hurriedly as possible. After all, the children had
only half a day now to do a full day's chores and
Gaffer still wanted to get back to Bag End to work on
the gardens, despite Bilbo's offer of a day off.
	
       By the end of the meal, Frodo was long since finished
and had been watching the others. Daisy kept looking
over at him and giggling, but he ignored that.
Instead, the boy kept his eyes trained on Gaffer,
waiting for the right time to start asking his
numerous questions. When Hamfast put his knife and
fork down, Frodo pounced on the opportunity.
	
       "Gaffer, sir?"
	
       The Gaffer looked up, signaled his children to clear
the table and get to work, then looked at his guest.
"Yes, Master Frodo?"
	
       "Uh… what kind of work will Sam be doing?" He handed
off his plate to Daisy with an absent smile; all
thought of helping gone as quickly as it'd come.
	
       "I reckon I'll be teaching him a lot of things,
Master Frodo. He'll be learning gardening and rope
making, as well as carpentry among other useful
chores. Why do ye ask?"
	
       Frodo fiddled with the tablecloth. "I was wondering
how busy he'd be and when he'd start. See I want to
tell him stories and stuff, but I can't if he's
working. And I know you said he has to work, so I
wondered when he'd not be working."
	
       The older Hobbit nodded, thoughtfully, and leaned
back in his chair. "Well… Samwise'll be just as busy
as the others. If he's a good, ambitious lad he'll be
even busier. And if he shows promise in gardening,
I'll be training him to take over for me, as the two
boys I got now aren't as good at it as I'd wish. He'll
have meals free, and maybe an hour or so in the
morning for playing and an hour in the evenings, until
he's old enough to take on a job of his own. After
that, it'll be up to whoever hires him."
	
       "Oh." Frodo frowned, staring blindly at the table. He
tried to imagine only having two hours a day to play
and couldn't see it. That seemed like an awful lot of
work. Maybe, when Sam got older, Bilbo would hire him
so Sam could play with Frodo.
	
       Satisfied with that plan, Frodo smiled at Gaffer
suddenly. "And if someone wanted to hire him for
something other than gardening? Maybe as a… uh…" he
tried to find a word, since it didn't seem right to
say he'd hire a friend. Friends weren't hired; they
just happened on accident. "Um…"
	
       Gaffer stood. "Master Frodo, if someone were to offer
to hire any of my children, they'd be applying through
me first. I'll decide if the job's worth my kids'
time. Now, if'n you'll excuse me, I've got to get up
to Bag End and start my work. I'm half a day behind as
it is."
	
       Frodo was suddenly torn between staying to sing to
Bell and Samwise or going back home and maybe helping
Gaffer. He felt bad again for not working. Finally,
his pride took over and he softly offered, "Would you
like some help, Gaffer, sir?"
	
       "Well, I'll be…" Gaffer smiled down at the boy. "I
thank you, Master Frodo, for the kind offer, but I
believe I can handle it. Maybe it'd be best if you
help Bell with the baby." He watched to see how the
compromise would sit, as Hamfast figured Frodo would
prefer that task anyway.
	
       He was right. Frodo's face lit up and he smiled.
"Would that really help? Oh, I'd love to help Bell
with Sam!" He clapped his hands and hopped a few times
in excitement.
	
       Gaffer laughed. "Go ahead, lad, she'll be wanting you
soon anyhow." And with that, the older Hobbit walked
out the door, jamming his hat over his dusky auburn
curls.
	
       "Yippee!" The boy turned and headed at a trot towards
the sickroom, excitement still vibrating through him.
He had been thinking the other children were mad
because he wasn't working, but Gaffer gave him work to
do. Help Bell… that'd be perfect. And he could tell
the others he really did know how to work so they
could stop being angry.
	
       As he rounded the corner out of the kitchen, Frodo
ran headlong into Halfred. The other Hobbit was only
one year younger than Frodo, but somehow it seemed a
wider gap than one year lay between them. The other
boy sneered and pushed Frodo up against a wall.
	
       "Listen, Mister Frodo. You're rich and it means you
don't do nothing but sit around useless. We're poor
and have to work. So stop rubbing it in. You just
leave us be. Go ahead and sing and talk all day, but
you don't go making us feel bad anymore just cause we
don't got what you got. It's mean!"
	
       Frodo blinked. "Huh? But… I wasn't… I…"
	
       Halfred didn't stay to listen. He stomped towards the
kitchen and the waiting dishes it was his turn to
clean. Frodo watched the angry boy go, bewildered by
the accusation. He shook his head, slowly starting
back to the bedroom. He couldn't understand this
family. Maybe everyone was right; maybe they just
weren't the same.
	
       When the confused child walked into Bell's room,
again without knocking, his blue eyes were wide and
troubled. He watched his feet, scuffing his toes
across well-cleaned floors. In fact, he was so
bewildered that he didn't even look up to see if Bell
wanted him in there. He just slumped over to the bed
and threw himself down next to the woman.
	
       "Uh oh… what's happened, Frodo?" Bell's voice was
soft and kind. She reached out a hand to caress his
curls. When he looked up at her, her soft gray eyes
held compassion.
	
       He broke into tears he hadn't even expected. "The
others hate me!"
	
       "Oh." She slipped her arm around him and gave him a
hug, carefully balancing the infant in her lap
instead. "What's happened with them?" She didn't argue
his assumption, didn't patronize him. Her question was
straightforward and sympathetic. She believed that he
felt the others hated him and wanted to hear his side,
rather than blindly defend the others, despite being
their mother. Bell didn't believe her children really
hated Frodo, but they'd given him that impression, and
that was bad enough.
	
       "They hate me 'cause I don't work." He scrubbed at
his eyes, trying to stop the tears, but found himself
just crying harder.
	
       Bell nodded and caressed his shoulder. "Oh, Sweetie…
it's rough being different." She dropped a kiss to his
dark curls.
	
       Frodo turned wide eyes up to her. "You understand
perfectly!" He was surprised, but knew he should have
expected that. She'd understood him these three weeks.
He threw his arms around her, still conscious of the
infant in her lap. Hugging her, the boy felt much
better. "You're my best friend, Bell. You're my only
friend."
	
       Little Samwise opened his gray-green eyes and
whimpered. Frodo looked down at the infant and smiled.
He touched the baby's cheek, watching as Sam turned
into the touch, seeking something known only to
instinct and infants. Frodo couldn't even take his
eyes off of the little boy.
	
       "He's my friend, too. You don't hate me, do you,
Sam?"
	
       The baby didn't seem to respond, but he certainly
didn't pull away or cry, either. That made Frodo feel
accepted, loved. "I think Bilbo's my friend, too,
Bell." It was then that the boy noticed his companion
hadn't spoken. He tore his gaze away from the baby to
look up at the mother.
	
       She smiled gently at him. "Yes, I count three friends
so far. I think you'll get many more. Remember what I
said when we met? Four families. So far, this is two."
	
       "But that means I've gotta make friends with a
Brandybuck and a Took, and they don't live in
Hobbiton, Bell. I'm not gonna make friends if I never
meet anyone, am I?" His voice was earnest.
	
       With a soft laugh, Bell gently picked up her son.
"Hold out your arms Frodo, just like you're going to
hold a very large loaf of bread." When he did as
instructed, she ever so carefully lay the baby in the
boy's arms, continuing what she'd been saying. "You'll
meet them later, Frodo. You can make friends at any
age, you know, not just when you're a child. I would
hope you'd make friends with my other children, but
that's something they'd have to want, too. Friendship
is a two-way sort of thing."
	
       Frodo wasn't really paying much attention. He had
frozen in place, hardly daring to breathe. The weight
of the tiny Hobbit in his arms terrified him, but if
asked he wouldn't have given it up for all the friends
in the Shire. This was Samwise Gamgee, his baby. True,
he'd had nothing to do with this baby until three
weeks ago, but it didn't matter. Somehow, deep down,
they belonged to each other. Naturally, Frodo could
never have described what he felt, even to Bell. It
wasn't even a conscious thought. It was just a
belonging that couldn't be argued with.
	
       Sam's eyes were closed again.
	
       Frowning, Frodo looked up at Bell. "Is he asleep?" He
sounded worried; afraid that maybe he'd hurt or killed
Sam or something. After all, he hadn't had much luck
keeping people around who liked him. That thought
threatened to overwhelm him with tears again, but
Bell's response chased it away.
	
       "He's definitely awake. See, when you spoke, his eyes
opened again. I think he knows you Frodo Baggins." She
hugged him again, keeping one hand under Sam's head
and neck.
	
       "Sam… isn’t he tiny, Bell? Think he'll be a big
Hobbit or a little one? I think maybe he'll be a
little one 'cause he's so little."
	
       "Oh, I don't know. I think he'll be like the Gaffer,
actually. He has that look about him."
	
       "You think?" Frodo started studying the baby again.
Finally, he unwrapped the soft blanket he'd brought in
earlier. Bell didn't yell at him to keep the baby
warm. She merely watched, smiling, as Frodo started
touching any and every part of the baby. "One… two…
three…" he was counting Sam's toes. After finding ten,
he nodded as if to mark that point and started on the
fingers. After a thorough count of tiny fingers, he
started on ears, nose, eyes, and other bits. Finally,
Frodo looked up. "He's got everything he needs, right
Bell?"
	
       Bell laughed. "Yes, I believe he does, Sweetie.
Everything a Hobbit could ever need." She loved
looking at her son, as only a mother could. Seeing him
also through Frodo's wondering eyes was a double
pleasure. "What do you plan to do with him, now,
Frodo?"
	
       "Now? Or when he's grown up?" Frodo had always had a
clever mind.
	
       "When he's grown, Frodo." The woman shifted against
her pillows and hesitantly let go of Sam's head and
neck, satisfied when she was sure Frodo was properly
supporting the infant.
	
       Frodo tilted his head and looked down at Sam. "I want
to hire him so he can have time to play with me. And
we'll tell stories to each other and live up at Bag
End and everything!" He beamed at Bell, but the smile
dropped a bit as he saw the worry on her face. "What?"
	
       She sighed. "I'm not sure Gaffer will like Samwise
being hired out just to play and tell stories, Frodo.
He'll want Sam to have what he thinks is a more
important job. But," she touched the child's nose and
smiled, "I'm sure you'll get plenty of time together
as he grows up. He won't get chores until he's four,
and Gaffer'll make sure he has a couple of hours to
play every day."
	
       "Two hours isn't enough. Sam deserves more playtime!
He's a good baby!" Frodo was indignant for the boy the
baby would become.
	
       Bell nodded. "Whether he deserves it or not isn't the
question, Frodo. Of course he's a good baby. But there
are rules in the world, and Samwise will have to live
by those rules. After all, the Shire runs on rules so
people don't get hurt." She lifted Frodo's chin.
"Breaking the rules can hurt people, and not just the
person who broke the rules. It can hurt a lot of
people." Bell hugged him again.
	
       With a deep sigh, the boy nodded. "I… I know, Bell.
But it's not fair. Everyone hates me because I don't
work. And Sam won't get to play. Maybe he'll hate me,
too." He wanted to cry at that thought.
	
       "Sam won't ever hate you," Bell's soft voice was a
promise. "He'll love you as much as I do."
	
       Frodo's head shot up, tears filling his eyes. "You
love me?"
	
       "Yes, I do, Frodo. If Bilbo hadn't adopted you, I'd
have asked Gaffer to."
	
       That was too much for the little boy; he'd gone over
the wide range of emotions, from elation to fear to
grief, all in the course of a day. He broke down
crying, burying his face against Sam. Bell looked
sadly at him, wanting to help but knowing anything she
said would make this even more overwhelming for the
poor child. She stayed quiet as he sobbed into the
baby's belly.
	
       Suddenly, with a gasp, Frodo started to raise his
head and stopped. Sam had gripped some of Frodo's
curls when they brushed his tiny hand. He gurgled
softly, wide eyes trained on Frodo. The boy could pick
up his head only enough to stare right back at the
infant through tear drenched blue eyes.
	
       "Oh…" his voice was soft with wonder, a slight hiccup
ending the exclamation.
	
       Bell smiled. "They say that at this young the baby
can't focus yet, Sweetie. What do you think?"
	
       Frodo smiled, hiccuping again. "I think… that he
sees… *me*, Bell…" he lay his head down, carefully
turning it so he didn't break the hold Sam had on him.
He listened to the fast heartbeat of the tiny body
beneath his cheek. "He really sees me."
	
       "I think you're right. And, Frodo?"
	
       "Yeah?" Frodo's voice was still soft with wonder.
	
       "I don't think Sam will ever care if you work or not.
In fact, I think he'd rather you didn't work." Bell
had no idea what would really happen in the future,
but the child needed to know that being what he was
would be acceptable to those who cared for him.
	
       Frodo sighed. "Yeah. I think you're right. Not
everybody hates me, huh, Bell?"
	
       Bell bent enough to kiss the boy. "No, I think the
most important people already love you, Sweetie.
Bilbo, me, and Sam."
	
       "Yeah…" Frodo turned his head to kiss Sam's belly,
eliciting a responsive gurgle once more. "Sam…"

TBC



Stories Of The Heart

Series: The Road Goes Ever On And On: 4/ ?
Author: Sam / samwise_baggins@yahoo.co.uk
Pairing: Frodo / Sam
Rating: G
Summary: This chapter, Frodo rejected?
Disclaimer: LotR is a trademark of JRR Tolkien and his
surviving children. I am in no way connected with
these people, and I do not claim ownership to these
characters, lands, or names. I have borrowed them to
share a story… and most likely not a story Tolkien
would have written, had he had the time or no. I am
making no money from this, and it is just for my
entertainment, and that of free entertainment to a
select group of friends. Thank You.
Warning: Angst
Authors Note: This is from a Plot Bunny by Sabrina. As
ages and names are so confusing to reference, I have
written up a timeline from Professor Tolkien's books,
and you can find it at this link:
http://www.geocities.com/samwise_baggins/timeline.htm.
The timeline is continually being updated as I have
time, but if you see an error, please let me know.
Also, as there are two differing opinions on when
Frodo went to live with Bilbo, I have created
timelines for both versions.
Feedback: Please? I love comments.
Archiving: Please ask first?

~~~~~~~

	He was crying again.
	Frodo stopped his story for the second time as Bell
picked her infant son up and cuddled him. With a
small, annoyed frown, the twelve-year-old Hobbit
watched as the baby fussed. It had been a month since
little Samwise Gamgee had been born. In that entire
month, the baby had managed to get perhaps
three-fourths of his mother's attention every time
Frodo visited.
	This time, Frodo'd been telling a story about Dwarves
that Bilbo had begun telling at bedtime the night
before. The older Hobbit hadn't finished, however,
claiming that he'd tell a bit more each night so they
could enjoy it longer. Thus, Frodo was making up bits
to extend it for Bell. He'd been hoping to snare her
attention with the action-packed story of how the
Dwarves had gotten wild enough to climb the orchard
trees at Farmer Maggot's down the long road from
Bagshot Row.
	It had seemed to be working, too. Bell had been
asking all sorts of good questions as she rocked the
baby in his cradle. Questions like "Didn't Farmer
Maggot catch them?" and "Weren't they afraid to climb
so high?"; not the normal stupid adult questions about
why the Dwarves would even want to climb trees. But it
hadn't lasted.
	Twice now little Samwise had interrupted the story by
wailing for attention. The first time, he'd been
hungry. For the first time Bell had let Frodo stay
while she fed the baby, but he still didn't understand
it. She'd held the baby against her, draping the
blanket over both of them so Frodo didn't see
anything. He had no clue how the baby could eat like
that but had been so flattered that Bell wanted him to
keep telling the story that he decided to save his
questions for later. Now it was the second time, and
the baby kept fussing even in his mother's arms.
	"What's wrong? Is he hungry again?" Frodo tried not
to show his annoyance. After all, he loved Sam, but he
was still an annoyed twelve-year-old.
	Bell looked up. "He needs changing, Frodo. It's all
right. Just let me…"
	"Can I change him?" Frodo knelt up on the rug next to
Bell, looking eager. "I won't hurt him. I can do it!"
	He'd never actually seen them change Sam's diapers,
but it couldn't be too hard, right? You slip off the
old one, wrap the new one around him, and pin it while
not sticking the baby with the pin. Easy as rolling
down the hill.
	"Well…" Bell looked at the fussy infant than at the
eager child. "Oh, okay, but this first time I'll do it
and you listen. I'll teach you. It'll be nice to have
someone help me with him occasionally."
	Frodo clapped and hurried over to the diaper piled
toy chest. Sam had been moved into the small infant
room just the day before. It was still crowded with
furniture. As they had just enough room to sit on the
rug with the baby, Frodo never complained. His room at
Bag End was huge, but he had been learning the
difference between rich and poor the past month.
	He now knew you would hurt someone's feelings if you
offered him money. Frodo was fortunate; he'd asked
Bilbo to give money to the Gamgees instead of simply
rushing over and offering his own pocket money. Bilbo
had commended him for the goodness of his heart; he
had also warned him that what Frodo wanted to do was
help, but the Gamgees would see it as charity, and
people didn't like charity. So, Frodo had asked how he
could help them. Bilbo had assured the little boy that
the best way to help them would be to not interfere.
Treat them as equals, but don't try to change them.
	So far it had worked. Even May had backed down and
started being nice again, marginally. The only one in
the family that didn't seem to like him, in fact, was
Halfred Gamgee. That was a shame, since they were only
one year apart in age; however, Frodo just let it go
now having decided that there had to be at least one
Gamgee he didn't like.
	Grabbing a neatly folded diaper, Frodo hurried back
to Bell and Samwise. "Here. And I got the powder,
too." He smiled proudly. He knew that every time he
picked Sam up, the infant smelled of the powder, so
obviously she'd need it. He was delighted when Bell
confirmed his thought.
	"Thank you, Frodo. Now, you need to lay Samwise on a
flat surface, so it's easier to get the diaper off and
on. There are two pins…"
	"I already know to be careful not to stick him,"
Frodo interrupted.
	Bell nodded. "That's good. I was hoping you were that
smart." She smiled gently at him and continued the
lesson. "Unfasten the pins and hold the diaper over
him, or you'll get wet."
	Wide blue eyes turned incredulously up to Bell. "You
mean Sam'd pee on me? Why? I thought he liked me."
	A soft laugh met that question. "Oh, Frodo, of course
he likes you. If he didn't, he'd cry when you tried to
hold him. Babies pee when the air hits them down
there. It's natural."
	"Oh." Frodo was only half listening now. Sam would
cry if he didn't like him? Like he cried every time
Halfred tried to pick him up? A surge of malicious
pleasure shot through the twelve-year-old. So, Sam
liked him better than his own brother. Probably
because he knew Halfred was a bully. Frodo couldn't
resist planting a kiss on Sam's nose.
	Bell laughed again. "You are an affectionate boy,
aren't you, Frodo?" Now, get the other diaper ready to
lie under him. If you want, you can always get it
ready beforehand. Put a bit of powder on the new
diaper… not too much!" She laughed as a thin cloud of
the white powder surrounded Frodo.
	"Whoa! That stuff's strong!"
	"Yes. That's why we only use a little. It's to help
keep him dry so he doesn’t sweat on the diaper and get
a rash. You know, like you sweat on your shirt. But
you can change your shirt; Samwise can't change his
own diaper, and we can't see if he's sweating can we?"
	Frodo nodded and wiped the powder off the diaper.
There was a fine layer left, and Bell approved it as
just enough. The boy laid the diaper on the rug and
turned to Bell. "Now what, Bell?"
	The fond mother smiled. "Now get ready with cleaning
cloths, in case he's messy. We'll want to wash him
off, anyway, but you might need more than one if he's
messy." She reached for the small covered jar of damp
cleaning cloths Gaffer renewed for her each day.
	Frodo beat her to it. "I'll wash him, okay? Please?"
He was almost vibrating in excitement. "I won't hurt
him, and he'll be ever so clean. Please?"
	She watched him a long moment as he tried to will her
to say yes. Finally, she nodded. "Okay. You may wash
him. But, Frodo, it's a messy job and I'll be checking
to see that you've got him totally clean." She passed
over the jar of cloths.
	With a soft sound of pleasure, Frodo moved to easily
reach the infant. Sam's eyes watched him, wide and
trusting. The boy cooed as he peeled the diaper back;
it changed into a gagging sound. "Ew! He's really
messy, Bell!"
	"Want me to take over, Sweetie?"
	"No!" Frodo modulated his tone when he saw the
surprise on her face. "No, Bell. I can do this. I want
to do this. Please?"
	Bell nodded and ran a hand through his curls. "All
right, Frodo. You clean him up."
	The infant let his eyes rove over towards Bell then
back to Frodo. He smiled slightly and the boy gasped.
"Oh… Bell, he smiled at me. He really smiled at me."
Frodo forgot all about cleaning the baby, instead
cuddling him. As he got messy, though, the boy
groaned. "Yuck! That's sick!" He turned a frown on the
cooing baby. "Yuck, Sam."
	Sam merely smiled back, cooing.
	"Here, Frodo, take your shirt off. I'll wash it. You
can clean Samwise up and then get a bath." Bell helped
him pull his soiled shirt off, revealing how pale the
boy really was. She frowned. "Frodo, do you ever play
outside, Sweetie?"
	"No." Frodo wasn't really paying attention. He was
too busy trying to wipe off the baby's mess with one
of the damp cloths. He had gotten through three before
he realized Bell hadn't asked any more questions.
	He looked up at her. "Bell? Why'd you ask if I play
outside? You want me to go?"
	Tilting her head, Bell sighed. "No, I don't want you
to leave, Sweetie. I just wonder what you do when
you're not with us." She handed him another cloth.
	"Oh, that's easy. I wander around Bag End and look at
things. Bilbo tells me stories. I like it here, even
if there are too many people. Sam's here. And you,
Bell." Frodo smiled at her then looked back at his
task.
	Bell ruffled his dark curls. "Do you do anything else
up at Bag End, Sweetie? Or do you fill your days with
wandering and stories?"
	Frodo thought about that. He bit his lip as he used
yet another cloth to wipe Sam's now very clean bottom.
Bell gently stopped him as he looked up to speak. He
blinked. "Uh… no… nothing else, really." He hung his
head. Would Bell now hate him because he didn't do
anything?
	She hugged him, startling Frodo into widening his
already large blue eyes. "Your cousin writes and
reads, Frodo. Perhaps he'd teach you if you asked?
He's getting older and someday he'll need someone to
read to him."
	"Why? Can't old people read?"
	With a laugh, Bell hugged him. "Of course some can,
if they knew before how to. But his eyes will stop
working as well, Sweetie. If you learned how to read,
you could read his books to him."
	The boy sat thoughtfully. Finally, he asked, "Bell,
do the Gamgees read?"
	Bell touched the tip of his nose with a finger. "The
Gamgees don't have time to read or to learn how,
Frodo. But it's okay. We tell stories, instead of
reading them." She put the jar away, piling the dirty
diaper and cloths with Frodo's shirt. "Are you ready
to finish with Samwise's diaper?
	Frodo shook himself. "Yeah." He frowned, though,
trying to puzzle out the entire working-versus-reading
thing. Slowly, he reached to pull the diaper up for
fastening. Unfortunately, Sam was quicker and a stream
of pee hit the boy right in the arm and chest. "Ew!
Sam! That's sick!"
	Sam cooed happily, waving his chubby arms.
	"My, you really do need a bath now, Frodo. Here, I'll
finish up and you can try again another day. Get into
the tub now." Bell smiled gently and deftly changed
Sam once more, fastening the diaper and scooping up
the messy clothing.
	Pushing to his feet, Frodo made a disgusted face.
"Yuck!" He gave a glare to Sam and trotted out,
heading towards the large tub the Gamgees stored in
the side yard. He worked to fill it with cool water
from the stream, not wanting to take the time to heat
buckets full. It was halfway through his hurried bath
that the boy realized he hadn't even gotten to finish
his Dwarf story.

	When Frodo trailed back into the hole, having emptied
and turned over the tub, he slipped into the baby's
room once more. Gaffer was just leaving, with a frown,
and stopped only long enough to nod his head in
respect to the lad. In the room, Bell was rocking in
her chair with Sam on her lap, singing softly. Frodo
felt left out suddenly.
	"Bell? You didn't wait for me." His tone was
accusatory.
	She looked up, not smiling. "But I wanted to. Sam
wouldn't wait. He wanted a song." She gestured to the
nearly sleeping infant.
	Frodo looked down at him, studying the soft chubby
features carefully. "Oh." He looked back at her with a
soft sigh. "Okay, that's all right then. Sam shouldn't
have to wait for me to bathe."
	"When he gets older, he'll have more patience for
you, Frodo. Come sit." She patted the stool next to
her chair. It had been added to the furniture
specifically for Frodo's use. He smiled and hurried
over, sliding onto the small wooden stool.
	"Bell?"
	"Yes, Frodo?"
	"Will Sam be allowed to read?"
	The woman looked up sharply. Frowning slightly, she
studied the boy. She looked back down at her son.
"Frodo. You do know I love you, right?"
	"Uh huh. I love you, too. Sam too."
	"Then don't be upset when I tell you this? Or try not
to be upset?"
	Frodo frowned. "What's wrong?" He sounded wary.
	Bell sighed and cuddled Samwise, who had drifted off
to sleep. "We, the Gaffer and I, think it's best if
you didn't come over so often. You need to be with
your cousin Bilbo more…"
	"I thought you loved me!" Frodo jumped to his feet,
tears of anger and confused hurt coming to his eyes.
	"I do…"
	He cut her off. "Then why do you want me to leave?
You lied to me!"
	Bell shook her head. "No, Sweetie, we think you need
more time with Bilbo…"
	"I don't want time with Bilbo. I want time with Sam
and you." He turned to her, eyes wide and begging.
"Please, don't send me away? I have to be here."
	The woman stood slowly and moved towards the cradle,
gently placing her infant son into the worn wooden
bed. "Frodo," she turned to him, "You've spent far too
much time here and not enough at home. The other
children are upset. Gaffer thinks you're learning the
wrong kind of life for your station. And… and… and I
think you're getting far to attached to Samwise."
	"But Sam…"
	"Samwise." Her tone was final, cutting off his
protest. "His name is not Sam; it's Samwise. Sweetie,
you can't make a pet out of him. He's a Hobbit. He'll
need to grow up strong and work hard to make a living.
He won't have the leisure time to wander the hole and
tell stories, like you do. He'll need to learn that
immediately. With you hanging around, he'll grow up
thinking he has a choice." She reached for Frodo who
jerked away.
	With a hurt look, Bell turned towards the tiny
window. "Frodo, try to understand. This is for the
good of both you and Samwise. You come from two
different types of families. You don't fit in this
type, and he won't ever be able to fit into your type.
It's better to learn that right now, Frodo. Please…"
	“You lied to me! You just want Sam to yourself!”
	“Frodo! I have never lied to you. And he’s my baby,
of course I want him. But that doesn’t mean I want you
less, Sweetie…”
	Frodo turned away from her, going to the cradle. He
looked in, studying the sleeping infant. He suddenly
sounded a lot calmer, frighteningly so. "You want me
to stop playing with Sam… wise… right? To be a
gentlehobbit, so he can be a gardener."
	"Yes," Bell moved closer.
	He ignored her. "Okay, fine. I didn't want to play
here anyway. Halfred's a bully and mean, and May's
spoiled. I'm going home. Sam*wise* can be a gardener
all he wants. I won't stop him." He glared at her and
ran out of the room, ignoring her soft call to come
back.
	Bell covered her face, crying. She heard footsteps
come in. Without even looking up, she said, “It’s
done, Hamfast. I’ve told him.” Her husband only
answered her by placing a strong hand to her shoulder.
Neither spoke for a long time.
	Sam slept on unaware of the big change that had come
over his life.

	His lungs hurt; his legs ached; he couldn’t breathe
for crying. Frodo ran all the way back up Bagshot Row
to his cousin’s home: Bag End. He burst in through the
faded green door. Weeping too hard to even bother
looking for his cousin, Frodo headed for the bedrooms.
	Bilbo had been reading a book. He looked up, smiling
in greeting as he heard the door burst open. The smile
faded as he saw the lad run right past, sobbing
loudly. “Frodo lad? What’s happened?” He tossed his
book down to the floor and shot out of his seat.
	The older Hobbit hurried after his adopted nephew,
worried when Frodo didn’t even acknowledge him.
“Frodo?” Bilbo stopped short as the boy’s door slammed
in his face. He heard thumping coming from the other
side. “Frodo?” his voice softened with confusion.
	“Go away! I hate you!”
	It was like a slap in the face. “What?” He had no
idea what he’d done. For the past two months he’d let
Frodo live as he chose. He hadn’t even given him a
bedtime, trying to let the child settle in before
repressing him too much. Perhaps that was wrong?
	With a gentle knock, Bilbo tried again. “Frodo, my
lad? What’s wrong? What have I done? Is there any way
to fix it?” He hoped this opening would work, but it
didn’t seem to. There was no answer from the other
side of the door.
	Bilbo took his courage in his hands and opened the
door. “Frodo?” He peered in, soft hazel eyes worried.
	There lay Frodo on the bed. His room was a typical
child’s room, a few toys scattered about and some
clothes pushed into a heap in the corner. The entire
room had been designed for the lad, so everything was
to his choice. But the older Hobbit didn’t even
register this small haven he’d provided his cousin. He
was too busy watching the wracking sobs which shook
the too thin body.
	“Oh, Frodo!” Bilbo rushed over and sat down, reaching
out a soft hand to tangle into the boy’s dark curls.
“Oh, Frodo, lad, what’s happened?”
	Frodo started to pull away then seemed to change his
mind. Flinging himself forcefully at the older Hobbit,
he tried to burrow into him, sobbing and shaking. He
was crying so hard his words came out as mumblings
only buried somewhere in Bilbo’s waistcoat.
	Bilbo simply hugged him close, rocking and murmuring
soothing nothings. He cuddled and cooed for long
minutes while Frodo cried his heart out. It was a long
time, and several cramped muscles later, before the
boy had cried himself into a near stupor.
	“They hate me.”
	The words took Bilbo by surprise. He’d nearly dozed
off after the repeated gentle movements and sounds
he’d been making. Unsure if he made out the words
correctly, Bilbo asked carefully, “Who does, lad?
Why?”
	“The Gamgees. Cause I’m rich and they have to work.
They don’t want me to play with Sam anymore, either.
They want me to stay here and read to you and not come
down and play and help and…” He sat up suddenly,
wiping a hand angrily across his eyes. “They’re mean
and I hate them right back!”
	“Frodo…” Bilbo’s tone was gentle, not reprimanding,
as he pulled the boy against his shoulder. “So, they
finally did it. I wondered how long they’d let you
come by.”
	Frodo turned incredulous eyes up to his cousin. “You
*knew* they were gonna send me away? Why didn’t you
tell me?” He pushed away, hurt.
	Bilbo sighed but let the boy go. “Because I wanted
you to enjoy the baby as long as they’d let you. You
were happy there, my boy, and I wanted you happy. I’m
sorry they won’t let you stay, though. I think you’d
make a mighty fine playmate for young Sam.”
	“It’s Sam*wise*, Bell told me so. She doesn’t want me
calling him Sam anymore.” Frodo was resentful.
	“Yes, I can see that.” Bilbo shifted and pulled Frodo
against him. The boy didn’t resist, letting himself be
cuddled. “You see, Frodo, she’s worried you’ll turn
the boy’s head.”
	“Huh?”
	Bilbo smiled at him. “You’re a smart lad. If you had
to work, but your best friend told you to play
instead, would you play or work? The truth, lad, you
won’t be in trouble.”
	“Uh…” the young Hobbit looked sheepish. “I’d play,
Bilbo.” He hung his head.
	“Right. And so would I.”
	Frodo’s head shot up in surprise; his eyes widened
incredulously. “You would? Why?”
	The older Hobbit smiled. “Because it’s more fun than
work; that’s why. Everyone’s the same, lad, and Bell
Gamgee knows it. The other children there are getting
upset because you don’t have to work.”
	“But I *wanted* to work, Bilbo,” his voice was a
whine.
	His cousin laughed. “Of course you did. No one wants
to feel left out, even if it’s working. But, you see,
Frodo. You may work one day or so, but you don’t have
to, so you wouldn’t want to do it for long. The other
children know that. They see you’ve a good heart, lad,
but they see you as different because you live with
me.”
	Frodo wiped his eyes. “I don’t wanna be different. If
Mum and Da were here, I’d be their friend, right?”
	Bilbo shook his head. “No, you’d still be allowed to
play a lot. You remember what it was like. No, there’s
all types that make this world turn, Frodo, and you’re
just not the same type as the Gamgees. You can be
friends,” he lifted a hand to quell Frodo’s protest,
“but you’re not the same. The only way for you to be
the same is if the Gamgees came into a windfall of
money.”
	“I wish we could give them the money.” Frodo sighed
and leaned into Bilbo.
	Nodding, Bilbo agreed, “So do I, lad. But then they
wouldn’t be our friends, because they’d feel bad.”
	The boy looked up, snorting. “Yeah, that stupid
charity thing.”
	“That’s right, my boy: that stupid charity thing. So,
here’s what we’ll do. Tomorrow you’ll clean your room
up like a proper Hobbit then I’ll start teaching you
to read and write. It’s time you got work of your own
to do.”
	“Work? But, Bilbo, gentlehobbits don’t work. Do
they?” Frodo sounded uncertain on the last.
	“Don’t work?” Bilbo pushed away and stood, sounding
indignant. “Of course we do! There’s much to do. Why,
I’ve a book to write, and I’ll need your help. You’ll
need to learn to cook and clean and tend things for
yourself, you know. You’ll need to keep track of money
and land and all sorts of jobs. Gentlehobbits
certainly *do* work. They just don’t do the same kind
of work as folks like the Gamgees. You’ll be busy
enough, my boy, don’t you fret.”
	Frodo bit his lip, watching Bilbo. He turned this
over in his mind. He wanted to rebel against suddenly
loosing his freedom, but something stopped him.
Hesitantly, he asked, “If I start working at reading
and numbers and stuff… will I be allowed to play with
Sam again?”
	Bilbo placed a hand on Frodo’s soft curls. “We’ll
see, lad. You’ve got to work hard to live up to the
Gamgees’ standards, you do. But if you work real hard,
maybe they’ll let him play with you in his free time,
as long as you don’t interfere with his work time.
I’ll ask them about it if I see you working hard
enough, right lad?”
	Frodo hugged himself and nodded. “Right…”
	As Bilbo moved to leave the room, Frodo softly called
out, “Bilbo?”
	“Yes lad?” he turned in the doorway waiting.
	“Will I still be allowed to tell your stories to Sam
if we can play together?”
	“I believe you will, Frodo, my lad. I believe you
will.” And with that, Bilbo gently closed the door,
leaving Frodo alone with his thoughts.

TBC

=====
"Let's strap on the Nitro..." Skip --- Vertical Limit


Of Dragons And Gardeners

Series: The Road Goes Ever On And On: 5/ ?
Author: Sam / samwise_baggins@yahoo.co.uk
Pairing: Frodo / Sam
Rating: G
Summary: This chapter, Frodo gets a very nice
surprise, and everyone else has to learn to deal with
it.
Disclaimer: LotR is a trademark of JRR Tolkien and his
surviving children. I am in no way connected with
these people, and I do not claim ownership to these
characters, lands, or names. I have borrowed them to
share a story… and most likely not a story Tolkien
would have written, had he had the time or no. I am
making no money from this, and it is just for my
entertainment, and that of free entertainment to a
select group of friends. Thank You.
Warning: Fluffy Stuff  
Authors Note: This is from a Plot Bunny by Sabrina. As
ages and names are so confusing to reference, I have
written up a timeline from Professor Tolkien's books,
and you can find it at this link:
http://www.geocities.com/samwise_baggins/timeline.htm.
The timeline is continually being updated as I have
time, but if you see an error, please let me know.
Also, as there are two differing opinions on when
Frodo went to live with Bilbo, I have created
timelines for both versions.
Feedback: Please? I love comments.
Archiving: Please ask first?

~~~~~~~

	A giggle sounded, making Frodo smile. He pretended
not to have heard. Instead, the fifteen-year-old
Hobbit lay back on the fine lawn of Bag End and
continued to pretend to read his book. It was a
beautiful summer's day; the sky was lightly dotted
with the fluffiest clouds one could ever hope for. The
sun shone done and a breeze cooled the air, making it
seem that all of nature was working in harmony with
each other: truly a pleasant day.
	The giggle sounded again.
	The teenager was hard pressed not to join in the
merry sound. He knew where it came from, and it
delighted him. Bell was off visiting relatives, having
taken the girls with her. Thus, Gaffer had sole care
of the three boys. As the two older ones were too busy
working to watch after their little brother, Gaffer
had brought the lad up to Bag End for the first time.
	It was also the first time Frodo had gotten to be
near the child without a frowning or nervous adult
hovering, thinking he'd try to break the rules that
had been set down three years previously. The dark
haired Hobbit had no intention of breaking rules but
if the toddler broke the rules who could blame him for
nobly keeping an eye on the child, right?
	Flipping over on to his stomach, the lad gave up all
pretense of reading. Samwise had again broken away
from his busy father to toddle towards the peaceful
scene of Frodo reading. Delighted with the sudden
attention, the little boy clapped his hands and
hurried over as fast as his chubby little legs could
go.
	"Well, hello, Samwise Gamgee. Off exploring again are
you?" Frodo opened his arms to the laughing boy,
engulfing him in a hug.
	"Fodo… Fodo…" Sam couldn't quite pronounce his older
friend's name, but neither were bothered by that small
failing.
	"What, Sam?"
	Freezing, Frodo looked around to make sure he hadn't
been overheard. He may be permitted to let Sam climb
all over him while Gaffer was too busy to protest, but
he still wasn't supposed to be using that pet name for
the boy. Fortunately, Hamfast was off at the other end
of the roses, pruning or some such. The teen smiled in
relief and touched noses with the chubby toddler.
Softer this time, he asked, "What, Sam?"
	Sam patted Frodo's head, laughing. "Fodo pay."
	It was still hard to get used to Samwise's speech
patterns. After all, he hadn't been around the child
enough to just pick it up. It took him some time to
recall that instead of lisping over letters he
couldn't say, Sam simply dropped the annoy letters
completely. Thus, after a long pause, it sunk in that
Sam was asking him to play.
	With a laugh, Frodo nodded. 'Sure Sam. What do you
want to play?"
	"Fodo. Wanna pay Fodo."
	"Oh, Sam, I know you wanna play with me, I'm ask…" He
stopped, thinking. Okay, Sam wanted to play and
apparently the only thing that concerned him was that
it be Frodo playing with him. Therefore, the teen
could choose the game; he knew just what he wanted to
play, too.
	With a wide, slow smile, the older boy nodded. "Okay,
let's play dragon. Which do you want to be? Bilbo or
Smaug?"
	"Fodo be soggy!"
	Frodo nodded. "Okay, I'm the dragon. You've got to be
Bilbo then. Come on, you can use this rock as the cup.
It's right here on my treasure…" he started piling
rocks and sticks and such next to his book, pretty
much oblivious to the fact that his book might get
damaged if the child knocked the entire pile of debris
down. "Okay, Bilbo goes into the cave and talks to
Smaug. Go ahead, talk to the dragon, Sam."
	Sam sat down with a thud onto his well-cushioned
butt. He still wore diapers and, due to the thick
padding they provided, he had the habit of simply
plopping down without care what he landed on. "K… Ho
Soggy!"
	With a low growl that ended on a laugh, Frodo curled
himself up right next to the pile of debris. "Grrr…
what do you want… roawr…"
	The child squealed with laughter and clapped his
hands in delight. "Oh, gen… gen!"
	"What? This?" And Frodo slowly uncurled, growling at
the toddler, who squealed louder.
	The noise brought the Gaffer's attention to the pair
and the older Hobbit stopped working. He pushed his
cap back, frowning towards the boys. Scratching his
head, the Gaffer wondered if he'd done the right
thing.
	When Bell left, she'd wanted to take the two youngest
children. Hamfast had convinced her to take the girls,
giving Daisy a treat she rarely got, instead. He said
he'd have no problem with the little one, even
working. He'd finally managed to convince her, and
she'd left the next day, laded with homemade presents
for her family.
	Gaffer knew he'd been the one to tell Bell to cut off
Frodo's visits. He also knew how much it had hurt both
his wife and the child. But he still felt it was for
the best. Frodo needed to grow in an entirely
different world: this world, a world of playing and
stories and gentlehobbit pursuits. Samwise needed to
grow up surrounded by working Hobbits, so he'd
understand where his place was.
	The children were indeed happy together, though, and
the thought of the pain he'd caused everyone tore at
the old Hobbit's innards. It was to help ease that
pain that made him tell Bell to leave the boy home. He
had twice as much work with the child but it had
seemed right. This way, everyday he could bring little
Samwise up the hill to play with Frodo.
	Of course, he couldn't let on that he was doing such
a thing. It would present the wrong image to the
teenager if he went back on his word now. Thus, when
Frodo cleverly pretended to merely be humoring a child
by playing with him, Gaffer let it go. He pretended
not to notice, as long as it didn't get too
rambunctious. The unspoken arrangement had worked all
week. Now, however, Gaffer had to wonder if he'd done
the right thing letting Frodo play with Samwise
unchecked.
	The boys were having fun, true, but the teen seemed
to be getting just as attached to the boy as he had
been three years ago. Once Bell was back, they
wouldn't be playing anymore since Gaffer wouldn't be
bringing him around any more. He sighed, still
hesitating to put an end to the laughter from across
the lawn.
	The appearance of Bilbo changed the atmosphere
slightly. The older Hobbit smiled as he watched his
adopted nephew play with the little boy twelve years
younger than himself. With a happy nod, Bilbo headed
towards the Gaffer.
	"How do you do, Hamfast Gamgee. Pleasant day, isn't
it?"
	The Gaffer nodded, "That it is, Master Bilbo. Your
boy's grown quite a bit tall, now." It was true; Frodo
was as tall as an adult Hobbit now, but he was still
painfully thin for a Hobbit.
	Bilbo turned fond eyes on the boys. "Ah, yes, that he
has." He paused, watching the play and laughter.
"Thank you, Gaffer, for bringing the baby up. I
suppose he's not really a baby anymore, though. Gone
on three years is it?"
	"Hmmm…" Gaffer confirmed in his non-vocal way. He
watched for a bit longer, then started to turn back to
his pruning.
	"If you'd like to bring him up after Bell's come
home, we'd be happy to have him. He could learn a lot
about gardening here. He'd be welcome to entertain
Frodo for a bit on his breaks, too, if they coincide."
He looked towards his old gardener.
	The man paused for a moment then went back to
clipping. "The boy needs to learn a trade."
	With a satisfied nod, confident that those words
meant agreement, Bilbo continued. "I'll make sure
Frodo stays out of the way while you're training the
boy, Gaffer. He's got his own things to do."
	Gaffer looked relieved and turned back to Bilbo. "I'd
appreciate that, Master Bilbo. The boys can play on
breaks, but Samwise'll need to pay attention during
his lessons."
	"Right you are," Bilbo patted Gaffer's arm. "And
Frodo'll need to concentrate on his figures and
letters. The boy's coming along nicely. I think I'll
start teaching him a bit of Elvish soon. That ought to
distract him quite a bit."
	A soft, "Yes, sir," trailed back as Gaffer walked on,
working. Bilbo let him go, smiling. He'd explain to
Frodo the new rules that afternoon at luncheon. The
lad would be excited, since for three years he'd
worked very hard to earn the privilege of being near
Samwise again. It had been a hard three years trying
to prove to the Gaffer that Frodo wouldn't interfere
with Sam's education, but it had finally paid off.
	Bilbo strolled back towards his faded green door,
pausing to watch Frodo-Smaug launch himself at
Samwise-Bilbo with a giggling growl. Sam shrieked in
delight and threw his arms around Frodo's neck for a
strong hug. Frodo rolled to the ground, instinctively,
protectively encircling the small boy, laughing. The
old Hobbit smiled at the two children and went inside
to prepare elevensies.

	It was perhaps one in the afternoon, and the Gamgees
were back down at their home at number three Bagshot
Row. Gaffer was ladling stew into bowls for his three
sons. He handed over the smallest bowl to Sam, who
turned away from it. "Gaff?"
	Even at three, Sam had picked up on the name everyone
used for his father. He used it now to get his
father's attention. "Gaff?" Sam reached out and tugged
on Hamfast's sleeve.
	"What, boy?" Gaffer looked over, spoon poised near
his mouth, hungry.
	"Pay? Pay Fodo?"
	The older boys froze, Halfred glaring at his little
brother. Frodo had never seemed to get along with the
other boy his age. He avoided the older boy, too, but
at least they were on speaking terms. With Halfred,
Frodo only managed to trade mumbled greetings in
half-hearted tones, if that.
	Gaffer looked thoughtful. "Maybe. But you've got to
work like the Gaffer before you can play anymore,
Samwise."
	Sam looked confused, his gray-green eyes trained on
his gruff father. "Woke?"
	"Um hum. Work. You'll be helping me up at Bag End
starting tomorrow, if'n your Mum gets back tonight.
How's that for something to do?"
	Hamson frowned softly and looked up. He so resembled
Bell that he near took his father's breath away at
times. "You starting him early, Gaffer? He's only
three yet."
	Halfred said what was really on their minds. "You
can't do that, Gaffer! He'll spend the entire day
lazing about like that Frodo Baggins! He has to work,
too!" The fourteen-year-old was half standing in his
indignation.
	Slamming his hand down hard enough on the table to
startle Sam into wide-eyed, silent tears, Gaffer
glared at his second son. "You questioning my
decisions, boy? Sit! Eat! Listen!"
	Halfred instantly sat and turned a flushing face
towards his bowl. He started moving the spoon around,
but didn't raise the food to his mouth. Instead, he
muttered an apology and seethed at how unfair it was
that Frodo got away with all sorts of things just
because he was adopted by the richest Hobbit in the
Shire.
	Gaffer leaned forward, gabbing a napkin to wipe at
Sam's eyes, his voice going down to a soothing octave
to calm the boy. "Sam's to work with me up at Bag End.
I'm starting him now because he shows promise. Master
Bilbo's already promised to keep Master Frodo away
from Sam during his work."
	The older boy, eighteen and nearer the age of
confidence that he would be respected enough to speak
equally to certain elders, gently said, "Gaffer,
you've called him Sam."
	Looking up, Gaffer studied his oldest child. With a
grunt, he went back to wiping Sam's face with the
cloth. "Course I did. 'Bout time he had a pet name and
Sam's a good enough one for all that. Now, finish your
food and get back to work. You'll need to be getting
that order out or Andwise'll forget about taking you
on full time as a roper."
	Hamson nodded and started eating again.
	On the other hand, Halfred glared over at the
toddler, who was now happily eating chunks of
vegetables with his fingers. "And won't *Master* Frodo
want to play with Samwise all day? If he throws a fit,
Master Bilbo may give in to him."
	"Don't see that happening, Halfred." Gaffer starting
eating his stew, ending the unsatisfactory
conversation right there.
	Halfred finished his luncheon in seething silence.

	"Tomorrow? Oh, Bilbo! That's wonderful! I…"
	Bilbo cut off his cousin's words with a raised hand.
"I may have done a disservice to the boy, Frodo,
asking Gaffer to start him a year early on work. I did
it so you'll have a couple of hours play time and a
meal or two with him."
	Frodo opened his mouth to speak, but again he was
silenced by his adopted uncle's raised hand.
	"Now listen close, Frodo. I know you've a good heart
and your intentions are as good as can be, but
Gaffer's not too comfortable with this idea. I had to
promise to keep you away from Sam's sight while he was
working. That means no more reading where the boy can
be distracted. If they're in the roses, you'll have to
go to the stream and so forth."
	The older Hobbit shook his head, still preventing his
cousin's speech. "I mean it Frodo. I'm going to start
teaching you Elvish tomorrow, so you'll be busy
enough. I want you to pay attention; it may save your
life one-day. Elves are funny folk, Frodo, and you may
have reason to speak to them before the end."
	Finally, Frodo interrupted. "Bilbo, I'm not going to
interfere with Sam. I'll study hard. But… can't I just
be happy right now? I'll finally get Sam back!"
	"He was never yours to lose, my boy."
	Frodo sighed. He spoke slowly and patiently, as if to
a child rather than a Hobbit seventy-eight years older
than him. "Bilbo, I know I'm not related to Sam
Gamgee, but we still belong together. He's my friend;
I love him. I don't want to lose him again, so I'm not
gonna be stupid."
	Bilbo sighed and touched the younger Hobbit's arm.
"He's three, you're fifteen. Frodo, can't you find
friends your own age?" His words were gentle, worried
hazel eyes fixed on the teenager.
	"I don't really have anything in common with them,
Bilbo." He shrugged as if that explained everything.
	The older Hobbit stood and cleared off his plate and
silver. He shuffled off to rinse the dishes, thinking
hard. It wasn't easy to stop himself from drilling the
boy with questions and rules. He tried to get himself
into some semblance of control so he could try to make
the boy understand. He didn't needed to; Frodo
approached him.
	"Bilbo…" Frodo's voice was as soft as the hand he
placed on his cousin's shoulder. "I know Sam and I are
worlds apart. I've learned that quickly enough. And I
know others might think me odd, claiming a
three-year-old as a friend. But, Bilbo, he won't be
three forever. Someday he'll be an intelligent adult
who'll enjoy good conversation and good ale, right?"
	He turned, looking at Frodo. "I… I suppose you're
right, my boy. Samwise Gamgee will grow up before we
know it. Then it won't seem so odd for you two to be
friends." He wiped the dishes dry, handing them off to
be stacked away in the cupboard. "Frodo, my lad, have
you considered that perhaps Sam won't grow up to enjoy
talking and ale?"
	The lad froze. "Not enjoy talking? Why wouldn't he?"
He turned confused blue eyes to his cousin.
	"Some people are quieter than others. Some don't
understand the same things. Some…"
	Frodo started laughing. "Are you saying that Sam
won't understand me? But, Bilbo, he's already
understanding! He's so smart and quick…"
	Bilbo nodded, "and he is a normal, healthy child,
Frodo. But just because he understands games and
stories doesn't mean he'll understand whatever you
wish to talk about, like languages and land and such."
	That stopped Frodo's laughter. The teenager thought
long and hard about what the older man was trying to
get across. He frowned, turning towards the window,
watching as Gaffer and Sam came back up the hill.
Finally, he shrugged and pushed away the thoughts.
"He'll talk to me. He's smart. Can I go play now,
Bilbo? Sam's here."
	Sighing, Bilbo nodded and watched his cousin run out
excitedly. He knew that Frodo'd most likely get a big
disappointment later in life if Sam proved to be like
his father. Gaffer was very uncommunicative, after
all. He looked out the window to see how Frodo would
spend his last half-day of playtime with the little
boy.

	Sam's eyes lit up as Frodo bounded out the door.
"Fodo!" He toddled towards the teen, tripping over his
own feet and landing face first in the grass. The
little boy sat up stunned.
	"Oh, Sam!" Frodo scooped the boy up, cuddling him and
fussing so much Sam started crying, a reaction
children around the world often displayed in similar
circumstances. Frodo fussed more and Sam ate up the
attention as all good toddlers did. "Where's it hurt,
Sam?"
	That question took Sam by surprise. It didn't hurt
anywhere. He looked at Frodo and held up his hand to
pat Frodo on the chest. "Hut?"
	Frodo cuddled him harder. "No, I'm not hurt, silly.
You aren't either, are you? But boy did you scare me!"
	The teenager carried the chubby toddler towards the
debris pile they'd made that morning. Sinking to the
ground, the older boy smiled down at his tiny
playmate. "I'm going to tell you a story, Sam, okay?"
	"Sam!" The little boy repeated the familiar word with
glee. "Sam Fodo!"
	Frodo laughed. "That's right. It's a story about Sam
and Frodo." He started off on a wild, fanciful tale,
making it up as he went along. As the long afternoon
hours whizzed passed for the two children, the
characters in the tale went to the ends of the earth
and back again. They risked their lives and fought
horrible armies of monsters and somehow, someway, made
it through together. At the end, Frodo hugged his
charge.
	"Understand, Sam? As long as we stick together,
nothing can tear us apart."
	With a grunt, Gaffer passed by at that moment. He let
the boy have that fantasy for now. After all, he still
had near on fifteen years before he'd become a adult
and be thrust into the world willy-nilly to make it on
his own. For now, he let them be children.

TBC

=====
"Let's strap on the Nitro..." Skip --- Vertical Limit


Routines That Hurt

Series: The Road Goes Ever On And On: 6/ ?
Author: Sam / samwise_baggins@yahoo.co.uk
Pairing: Frodo / Sam
Rating: PG (can be scary)
Summary: This chapter, Sam's first day as Gaffer's
assistant at Bag End.
Disclaimer: LotR is a trademark of JRR Tolkien and his
surviving children. I am in no way connected with
these people, and I do not claim ownership to these
characters, lands, or names. I have borrowed them to
share a story… and most likely not a story Tolkien
would have written, had he had the time or no. I am
making no money from this, and it is just for my
entertainment, and that of free entertainment to a
select group of friends. Thank You.
Warning: Angst
Author's Note: This is from a Plot Bunny by Sabrina.
As ages and names are so confusing to reference, I
have written up a timeline from Professor Tolkien's
books, and you can find it at this link:
http://www.geocities.com/samwise_baggins/timeline.htm.
The timeline is continually being updated as I have
time, but if you see an error, please let me know.
Also, as there are two differing opinions on when
Frodo went to live with Bilbo, I have created
timelines for bother versions.
Feedback: Please? I love comments.
Archiving: Please ask first?

~~~~~~~

	Clapping excitedly, three-year-old Samwise Gamgee
started to toddle ahead of his father directly towards
the faded green door. His mother had come home from
visiting relatives the night before; after talking
privately with the Gaffer, she had given permission
for Sam to start working at Bag End. Of course, she
was aware that there would be little in his
capability, but she gave her permission none-the-less.
Now the child couldn't wait to go play with his older
friend, Frodo Baggins, not fully understanding the
meaning of the word 'work', yet.
	As the little Hobbit reached the door he jumped up
and down, clapping and loudly calling, "Fodo! Fodo pay
Sam! Fodo!"
	Gaffer brought a gentle, yet firm, hand down on his
son's shoulder, effectively silencing the boy. "Master
Frodo's got his own work to do. You'll be working
until luncheon then you can play. Come along,
Samwise."
	Sam's gray-green eyes widened in surprise. He guessed
his father didn't understand so he pointed to the
Hobbit hole and said, "Fodo pay…"
	Gaffer shook his head. "No. Master Frodo is not
coming out to play. Come along." He gently gripped the
toddler's wrist and started pulling him towards the
wide side-lawn.
	Stunned, Sam struggled. "No! Gaff… Fodo…" His voice
was insistent, as demanding as a child's could be. He
tried to pull back, to get to the green door once
more. He naturally wasn't strong enough to break his
father's firm grip.
	"No Frodo!" The Gaffer's voice was harsh, stubborn.
"We'll be going if you yell at me again, boy." He
glared at the toddler menacingly.
	"No go…" Sam whimpered. He let his father tug him
towards the side-lawn, looking over his shoulder with
tear-filled soulful eyes.

	Frodo stopped reciting his Elvish alphabet, pain
filling his heart at the pitiful sound of Sam's
acquiescence. He sounded so defeated and lonely. The
fifteen-year-old closed his eyes, fists clenching,
trying to keep control. He had to sit there and study
this new language when everything in him screamed to
go rescue Sam. "He's crying…" Frodo's voice was a bare
whisper.
	Bilbo, the teen's older cousin and adopted uncle,
stopped the lesson, his hand gently covering Frodo's
fist. He could see the struggle and pain his cousin
was going through. Squeezing gently, Bilbo softly
stated, "we've arranged for the both of you to have
play and lunch together. The Gaffer thought that
pushing all of Sam's playtimes together around his
luncheon would be best. You'll have three hours to
feed and change him, but whatever's left over of that
time will be just for the two of you."
	The teenager's head shot up, blue eyes widening
hopefully. "Three hours, Bilbo? Just me and Sam?
Truly?" He leaned forward, the beginnings of
excitement radiating from the slender, pale body.
	With a laugh, the older Hobbit nodded. "Yes, dear
boy, three hours for you and Sam. That's made Gaffer
have to stay late, but he's agreed. It means you'll
have to stay indoors while they're working until Sam's
used to his new routine, though."
	"Oh, thank you, Bilbo!" Frodo threw his arms around
his cousin in an affectionate hug. "I'd stay inside
all the time just for time with Sam!" And with that,
he started his Elvish alphabet with renewed energy.

	Sam was crying, looking back towards the hole time
and again. He totally ignored everything the Gaffer
tried to gently explain. He wanted his Frodo. Slowly,
as the Gaffer got more distracted with his work, the
toddler formed a plan. He'd go to Frodo and Frodo
would play.
	The plan pleased him so much that he stopped crying.
Quietly, ever so quietly so Gaffer wouldn't notice,
Sam started moving off. He would go to the door and
call for Frodo. The toddler smiled in anticipation and
kept moving carefully.
	When he was perhaps ten feet away, Gaffer's voice
floated menacingly over. "Come back here boy or we go
home. We go home and no Frodo!"
	With an outraged scream, Sam stamped back towards his
father, crying and stamping. He was being ignored, but
it didn't matter. The little boy continued his
tantrum. He stamped right up next to Gaffer and
started screaming right at him, a wordless yell common
to all thwarted young ones.
	The older Hobbit hadn't gone through four other
children without learning a trick or two. This one
would give up on the tantrum soon enough. Thus, the
man continued to tend the lawn, ignoring the painful
screams in his ear and the feet occasionally stomping
on his own.
	Sam slowly quieted, sniffling and sobbing once in
awhile. Gaffer didn't notice! He was frustrated, but
an idea came to him. He'd go to Frodo now. If Gaffer
hadn't heard him screaming, he wouldn't see him *this*
time. Again, the little Hobbit tried to sneak off
quietly towards his goal.
	"Samwise!"
	The little boy turned and screamed, tears instantly
surfacing once again. He'd only gotten about ten feet
again before his father had yelled for him. Stomping
around in a circle, slowly getting closer and closer
to his father, the boy screamed and cried, louder than
last time. He was unaware and uncaring how painful his
shrill yells were to his father and the two Hobbits in
the hole.
	Gaffer again ignored the tantrum, moving onto another
section of the lawn he was trimming.
	It took several minutes for Sam to calm down this
time. He glared resentfully at his father and plotted.
He *had* to go see his Frodo. Gaffer didn't
understand! Maybe if he *told* the Gaffer what he
wanted. He tugged Gaffer's sleeve, nearly causing the
man to cut his own toes with the blade.
	"What the blazes do you think you're at boy!" Gaffer
turned angry eyes on the child, as frustrated as the
boy with the development.
	Sam gulped. He lifted large watery green eyes to his
father and tugged his sleeve again. Pointing to the
hole, he whimpered, "Fodo? Fodo now?"
	"No! No Frodo now!" He pulled his sleeve from the
tiny grasp and turned back to his blade, annoyed and
seriously rethinking this plan. Most of the time
they'd start the child when he was four… in the house
with easy chores. What had he been thinking to agree
to bring the boy up to start gardening at three?
	Wait a minute… Gaffer frowned and looked around. It
was too quiet. He spotted the reason rather quickly.
While he'd been brooding, Sam had taken advantage and
nearly gotten halfway across the yard. The older
Hobbit threw down his shears and screamed at the top
of his lungs, "Samwise Gamgee you get back here right
now or we'll *never* come back here!"
	The boy stopped dead in his tracks, turning around
horrified. Standing there, struggling with the
ultimatum, his eyes filled with genuine tears this
time, not the babyish tears of a tantrum. He sat on
his butt with a hard thump and wailed in misery at the
threat. No Frodo… ever?
	Gaffer sighed and shuffled over to his youngest son.
He felt instantly guilty for losing his temper with
the boy. After all, he didn't understand yet. Hamfast
Gamgee squatted down and scooped the boy up, cuddling
him. "Shhh… Samwise, calm now little one."
	Sam burrowed into his father, whimpering and crying.
He tangled his chubby fists in the Gaffer's collar,
his wet face pressed to his father's neck, sobbing for
all the world as if his heart was breaking. His body
began shaking, the sobs changing to gasps for air.
	That scared the adult.
	"Breathe, Sammy… breathe…" he cuddled his son,
genuinely worried that Sam might stop breathing in his
fit. "Come on, son, breathe…" The fit wasn't lessening
and Gaffer was becoming downright terrified. "Master
Frodo!"

	Frodo immediately dropped his books and ran out the
door, Bilbo on his heels. They'd heard the entire
debate between adult and toddler but had stayed inside
as agreed. After all, Frodo knew the Gaffer would
never hurt Sam no matter how frustrated he was. But
when the man called out with such fear, neither
scholar questioned the ethics of answering that call.
It sounded like a very serious plea.
	The teenager scanned the lawn for the pair, finally
seeing them in the far distance. The Gaffer was
kneeling on the ground, hugging his son and looking
pale and shaken. Sam was beyond hearing, gasping for
breath and clutching involuntarily at the cloth of his
father's coat. That sight was the worse one Frodo had
ever seen… next to the one of his parent's bodies
three years ago.
	Skidding to a halt, Frodo touched Gaffer's shoulder.
"Give him to me, sir…"
	The Gaffer didn't argue, didn't question, he obeyed.
He turned and handed his precious little boy to the
younger Hobbit, eyes wide and worried. "Please, Master
Frodo… he ain't breathing right…"
	Bilbo called out, "I'll get a doctor…" And off he
sprinted, heading for town.
	"He started crying, sir, and now he ain't breathing…"
Gaffer looked terrified, wringing his work-worn hands
and watching his child through fearful eyes. "Oh,
Sammy… breathe, son…" The older man's voice was a
plea.
	The teenager studied the boy quickly. His hysterics
had turned to spasms, and air wasn't getting through.
How could he get him to breathe? A shock might do it.
He lifted his hand and took a deep breath of his own.
	Frodo slapped Sam across the face, shocking the child
into a long breath. He raised his hand again,
prepared, but hating to hurt the child. He just knew
that his mother had once slapped him when he couldn't
breath for crying so hard.
	It worked. Sam was breathing again. He clutched
blindly to this new person, not yet registering who
held him. With a hiccuping gasp he looked up. His
confused brain tried to comprehend what his huge green
eyes were telling him. "Fodo…" It ended on a sob, his
voice hoarse.
	"Yes, Sam, it's Frodo. I'm right here." He cuddled
the little boy, tears of relief coming to his eyes.
	With a soft cry, Sam burrowed against his friend,
whimpering and clutching. "Fodo…"
	Frodo contented himself with a secure hug and plenty
of gentle kisses dropped to the toddler's soft curls.
"Yes, Frodo's here, Sam. I'm not going anywhere. I'm
right here. You're gonna stay."

	Gaffer wiped a hand over his face, feeling as if he'd
aged about fifteen years in the last two minutes.
Never had one of his children gotten so hysterical as
to stop breathing. This was something out of his depth
and he sorely wished Bell had come along to help out.
He watched the teen with tired gray eyes.
	What was it about Master Frodo that so called his
little boy? May had gotten attached to Hamson but
never acted this way when separated from her oldest
brother. Why did Samwise suddenly go into hysterics,
then?
	Softly, hesitantly, he queried, "Master Frodo? What
kind of spell do you have on that child?" He flushed
as he realized just what he'd asked and how it
sounded.
	Frodo looked up. "I don't know… maybe the same one
that he has on me." He stood, Sam's head on his
shoulder, patting the chubby back. The boy still
sobbed occasionally, but he was back in control.
	"Sir, I'm real grateful that you were going to let me
have three hours straight with him, but I don't think
it's going to work." Frodo flushed lightly at
questioning the man's rules. "Maybe if he could see me
first thing for a few minutes? That might help keep
him calm? You know: I come out every hour for a few
minutes to say 'Hi' and give him something to look
forward to? Then, maybe we get a couple of hours at
luncheon instead? He might adjust easier that way."
Biting his lip, Frodo watched the older Hobbit,
wondering if he'd get in trouble for his suggestion.
	Relief swept Frodo, however, when the Gaffer slowly
nodded. "Yes…" he thoughtfully studied his now quiet
son. "Seems you've got a good idea, Master Frodo.
I'll… I'll talk to Bell tonight. Today, we'll let him
sit with you while you study, if'n that's all right? I
think he's had too much fresh air today…"
	It was Gaffer's turn to look nervous. He was a good
Hobbit who rarely ever questioned his betters. What
was he doing telling Frodo what to do now? He took off
his hat and kneaded it nervously between gnarled,
dirt-stained fingers.
	With a gentle smile, Frodo nodded. "That sounds fine.
I'll make sure he sits quietly so he doesn't get
overexcited again. I'll still be studying, but maybe…
sir… maybe if he sits quietly, he'd be allowed inside
with me some days?"
	"Well…" that *was* pushing a bit, actually. Gaffer
was thankful that Frodo had managed to end that
frightening fit, but he couldn't change Sam's future
just because of gratitude. Slowly, he twisted the cap.
"Master Frodo, maybe for this first year, so he gets
used to things, he could spend half a day with you…
mornings like. Mind he'd have to play quiet while you
do your things, but then he can come outside with me
in the afternoons…" Gaffer looked around at the wide
lawns and gardens then back at Frodo. "Then next year
we can see how things go with changing around a bit?"
	Instinctively, Frodo knew that pressing further would
have Sam retracted completely, despite the hysterical
fit he'd had. The teen wisely nodded, smiling. "I
promise he'll be quiet and not bother me in the
mornings, sir. And he'll go out to work with you in
the afternoons. Thank you, Gaffer, sir."
	Waving his hand, disgruntled suddenly, Hamfast turned
his back. "I've got work, Master Frodo, if you don't
mind?"
	Without comment, Frodo let the gardener get back to
tending the lawns. He brought the child inside,
wondering if he should go after Bilbo to stop him. No;
it was better if the doctor came to check Samwise out.
That had been one scary fit. He wanted to be sure it
wouldn't happen again… that it had just been the end
of a bad temper tantrum or something.
	Sam was strangely quiet as Frodo made his way into
the study. The teen frowned and looked down at him,
shifting the chubby little boy to better see his face.
Sam was asleep. With a sigh of relief, Frodo sat down
at the table and adjusted the pliable body in his lap.
He softly started reciting his letters, waiting for
Bilbo so they could discuss Sam's health and his new
routine.

TBC

=====
"Let's strap on the Nitro..." Skip --- Vertical Limit

Something Precious

Series: The Road Goes Ever On And On: 7/ ?
Author: Sam / samwise_baggins@yahoo.co.uk
Pairing: Frodo / Sam
Rating: PG (blood)
Summary: This chapter, the doctor panics and Sam’s
life takes a turn… or is that Frodo’s life?
Disclaimer: LotR is a trademark of JRR Tolkien and his
surviving children. I am in no way connected with
these people, and I do not claim ownership to these
characters, lands, or names. I have borrowed them to
share a story… and most likely not a story Tolkien
would have written, had he had the time or no. I am
making no money from this, and it is just for my
entertainment, and that of free entertainment to a
select group of friends. Thank You.
Warning: Swings steeply from Angst to Fluffy Stuff and
so forth.
Author's Note: This is from a Plot Bunny by Sabrina.
As ages and names are so confusing to reference, I
have written up a timeline from Professor Tolkien's
books, and you can find it at this link:
http://www.geocities.com/samwise_baggins/timeline.htm.
The timeline is continually being updated as I have
time, but if you see an error, please let me know.
Also, as there are two differing opinions on when
Frodo went to live with Bilbo, I have created
timelines for bother versions.
Feedback: Please? I love comments.
Archiving: Please ask first?

~~~~~~~

	"Bilbo, we're in here…" Frodo's voice was soft. He'd
heard his cousin enter, out of breath and trying to
explain to the doctor why he'd brought him to Bag End.
The calm statement from the fifteen-year-old brought
both older Hobbits to a sudden halt in the study door.
	With a moan, the doctor rushed forward, seeing
Samwise Gamgee's limp body in the older boy's arms.
"Too late… the boy's…"
	"He's not dead," Frodo interrupted, swiveling in his
chair to give the physician better access to the
worn-out toddler. "He's sleeping." At a curious look
from the doctor, Frodo continued. "He was having
troubles breathing but I slapped him once across the
face and he started breathing fine again. Then he fell
asleep." He winced as the doctor and Bilbo studied
Sam's chubby face and the red welt forming there from
having been slapped hard.
	The doctor prodded Sam awake and started studying the
child, leaving him in Frodo's arms. Sam was tired,
drained from his fit. He didn't want to be prodded by
this stranger. Whimpering, he raised his eyes to
Frodo, tearing up once more.
	"Enough. He's breathing fine, right?"
	With a nod, the doctor backed off. "Yes…." He spoke
slowly, hesitant to claim the child as healthy after
the description Bilbo had given him about the fit he'd
had. "But he could have another… spasm. Not many
Hobbits stop breathing when they cry. Might be a lung
problem."
	"No!" Frodo gasped and cuddled the sleepy toddler.
"He can't be sick… he's just tired from crying. He
wanted to see me was all; he's fine now."
	"Hmph… I want to see the child's parents. Where're
the Gamgees?" He crossed his arms, glaring at Frodo as
if the boy had done something offensive by contesting
him. The doctor had decided that the teen had no idea
how serious this toddler's condition really was. He'd
get the child taken back home.
	Bilbo looked at Frodo then put a gentle hand on the
doctor's arm. "Come along. He's outside." Opening his
mouth to protest leaving the two children alone once
more, the doctor was rushed out the door.
	Frodo cuddled the sleepy child, holding him securely.
"You're okay, right Sam?" Despite his words to the
doctor, he really had been terrified by the fit. After
all, when someone started crying so much he stopped
breathing it was serious. "Wanna sit and listed to
some more Elvish?"
	The little boy lifted half-closed gray-green eyes to
study his friend's face. "Uh huh." He nestled closer
into Frodo, content to be right where he was. One
small hand crept up to tangle in Frodo's shirt.
	With a sigh, Frodo dropped a kiss to Sam's
strawberry-blond curls. He settled back onto his
chair, making sure the boy wouldn't unbalance when he
turned pages. Softly, evenly, Frodo started practicing
his letters once more. He couldn't resist a small
smile when he felt Sam's head return to his shoulder,
eyes closing slowly.

	"Gamgee! That boy's a menace. What do you mean by
leaving your child in his care?" The doctor strode
purposefully across the lawn, determined to be heard.
He wasn't a stupid Hobbit, after all; he knew Bilbo
was trying to humor him. It galled the man that
neither Baggins was willing to believe him.
	Gaffer looked up. He didn't say a word, nor approach
the physician, making the rather rotund Hobbit come
all the way to him. Instead, he turned back to
trimming the side-lawn.
	With a huff, the doctor stopped next to the gardener.
	"I'm speaking to you Hamfast Gamgee. You can't tell
me the life of your son don't mean anything to you.
Leaving him with that boy's a bad idea. Why, Frodo
Baggins isn't anywhere near his majority… not even
halfway there. He's trying to say your boy ain't sick.
Thinks I'm exaggerating how serious Samwise's
condition is. But I'll tell you, when a body stops
breathing, there's damage. The boy's brain won't be
right if it happens again. I need to see to him and
give him the right medicine…"
	The gardener stopped trimming, straightening slowly
to look at the doctor. "Sam's breathing right now?" He
sounded like he expected he already knew the answer.
	"Of course he is. I wouldn't be out here if he
wasn't. What do you…"
	"He's not crying or sobbing or gasping?"
	"Well," the doctor paused then shook his head, "no…
he's calm actually. Real quiet and sleepy. I know that
ain't like your boy, though. That child's boisterous
and loud. When a child goes quiet, it's a sure sign of
sickness. Why just last week…"
	Gaffer interrupted a third time. "He ain't changing
colors or clutching or struggling?"
	Frustrated, the doctor raised his voice slightly.
"No! I tell you, Hamfast, he's calm and fine. But
that's all the more reason to fret. He ain't playing,
just lying there looking half… half dead." There, he'd
said it. That oughta scare some interest into the
parent.
	With a nod, Gaffer turned back to his trimming.
"Thank you for checking my boy. I'll see you get your
fee. Good evening to you, now."
	“What!” Anger seethed through the man and he
straightened indignantly. Turning quickly, he called
out, “I’ll just talk to Bell Gamgee about her
littlest. We’ll see if she’s so calm about her son not
breathing!” He started off, Bilbo hurrying to keep up,
trying to calm the other Hobbit.
	Gaffer looked back up, frowning. He thought a few
minutes about his obligations then decided. Putting
down his sheers, the gardener headed over the
side-lawn, cutting over the neat grass, towards his
home at number three Bagshot Row. He’d get there
first, as the doctor would be going by the road. No
need having the doctor scaring Bell, after all,
especially as she’d only just told him she would be
having a baby come the end of the year.

	Once at his own hole, Gaffer paused long enough to
catch his breath. He wasn’t often running about like
that. He put a hand on the side of the hill
encompassing his hole, bending over to breathe.
“Bell…” he slowly stood and started around the hill.
	“Gaffer?” Bell looked up from the table she was
scrubbing. Puzzled, as her husband never came home
early, she headed towards the door, drying her hands
in her apron. “Hamfast? What is it? What’s happened?”
She reached for the door.
	It was opened before she could touch the knob, and
Gaffer stood there still panting. “Bell, doctor’s
coming to talk about Samwise…”
	Bell frowned, instinctively looking for her youngest
child. The beginnings of alarm started coursing
through her when she didn’t spot the boy. “Gaffer?
Where’s Sam?”
	“With… Fro… do… Bag…gins…” He panted, looking up at
her. “Had a… tantrum…”
	“And you gave in to him?” That didn’t sound like her
husband. He was normally so good at control.
	The Hobbit shook his head. “No,” he was catching his
breath now, “Didn’t give in. He had such a fit crying…
stopped breathing, Bell.”
	“What!” Bell threw her hands up to her cheeks in
shock then picked up her skirts and started out the
door. Gaffer’s hand on her shoulder arrested her
movement.
	“He’s fine now. Master Frodo got him breathing again.
He’s watching him now. Right smart youngun that Frodo
Baggins.”
	The woman turned slowly and frowned. “You tell me
everything that happened, Hamfast Gamgee, and you tell
me right now! What in the world stopped Samwise from
breathing?” She crossed her arms and tapped her foot.
	He nodded. “Samwise wanted to play and was screaming
and fussing up a storm. I…” he sighed, growing ashamed
at his part in Sam’s fit, “ I lost my temper and told
him to stop or we wouldn’t come back to Bag End. He
lost it, Bell… started crying so hard he couldn’t
breath right. Master Frodo came out and slapped him.
That stopped the fit. Master Bilbo went and got that
old doctor.”
	Slipping her hands to her hips and looking rather
disgruntled, Bell tossed her dark blonde curls. “That
old… Oh… and what’s he think?” She threw up a hand,
“let me guess. Sam’s about to die of consumption? He’s
one of those Hobbits who can’t breathe right so he’s
not allowed to play? The world’s gonna come to an end
and Sam’s got a hand in it?” She really disliked that
man which was why she’d gone to her own family to
confirm her pregnancy.
	“Something like that,” Gaffer smiled at her, relaxing
a bit. Trust Bell to put things in perspective.
	The doctor huffed his way over, throwing an annoyed
glance over his shoulder at Bilbo, who’d insisted on
following him. “Bell Gamgee… oh! I see your husband’s
come rather than staying back and keeping an eye on
your son.”
	Gaffer took off his cap, bowing his head to Bilbo in
respect; he frowned at the doctor, fingering the worn
cloth in his hands. Bilbo smiled at Gaffer then took
Bell’s hand in pleased greeting. “Bell my dear. So
good to see you again. Frodo wishes to assure you that
Sam’s calm and enjoying listening to my boy recite his
lessons.”
	With a loud harrumph, the physician glared at Bilbo
once more. “You son stopped breathing. Mister Baggins
thought it serious enough to come for me, which is
quite right. Now your husband and the Bagginses refuse
my counsel on the matter. Little Samwise is ill, can’t
be exposed to chills or such. He needs careful
attention and strong medicine…”
	“Oh, dear. Samwise? Perhaps I should go up to see
him? Come, Hamfast, Mister Bilbo. I’d appreciate the
support, as I feel faint.” She threw a worried look at
the doctor who seemed pleased by her apparent concern.
	“Doctor! Doctor come quick! Young Tom Cotton’s gotten
hurt falling off the pony. He needs you!” A young man
was running over, worried.
	“Hurt? I’ll be right there!” The doctor threw a hasty
look at Bell. “I’ll be by later, ma’am, to check on
you and Samwise. Good to know *some* people know sense
when they hear it. I’m coming!” And the fat Hobbit
shuffled off,