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A Rose For My Love
Part Two
The Great Smials appeared, mounded high with snow, as they rounded the bend in
the road, and Sam was somewhat perplexed. He had been to Brandy Hall on two
occasions now, and he had expected something along the lines of that stately
grand edifice. But this, he thought at first, was a smial far more akin to Bag
End. Fine enough, indeed, but hardly the magnificent home one expected of the
fabled Tooks.
Frodo was watching him with a twinkle in his eye, though. “Not quite what you
had in mind, Sam?” he laughed merrily. “Ah, you wait now. Let me warn you about
one thing, however. Never set off inside here on your own. Unless you’ve been
born here, you’ll never find your way about this maze. It’s all quite tucked
away, you know. Doesn’t show a bit from out here.”
But Daisy and May, who, of course, had never seen Brandy Hall, stopped dead in
their tracks in wonder. “Oh, isn’t this the most marvelous, Daisy!” exclaimed
May, her eyes round with awe, and her sigh of amazement coming out in a frosty
cloud in the frigid air. For yes, it was a round wooden door in the side of the
hill, but rather than a plain green one such as Bag End had, it was highly
polished and most intricately carved. And there were round windows set into the
side of the hill, some shuttered, and some not, but Sam suddenly realized that
the windows continued on, set into the hill for quite a ways, and indeed, he
could not see the end of them from where he stood.
There was a crowd of hobbits though, milling purposefully about in the
well-trodden snow at the entrance to the smial. A stable was not far off, and
the ponies of the newcomers were being led off towards it. For the travelers
from Hobbiton were not the only new arrivals to Tuckborough this day.
Even as the travelers stood unnoticed in the general bustle, there arose an
unusual commotion behind them, and they turned around to look. “Bracegirdle,”
muttered Frodo, with a certain amount of distaste, as they recognized their
fellow guest from the last couple of days at the Laughing Cow. Bracegirdle it
was, arriving in a rather elaborate cart, which was driven by the same serving
hobbit that they had briefly met at the inn. Halting the pony near the front
door, the young hobbit immediately hopped down and pulled out a step from the
side of the cart for his employer to use in dismounting. Bracegirdle, a rather
portly hobbit, thrust an elbow out to his companion for assistance and support,
but never glanced at him once. As soon as he was out, he strode to the
magnificent front door and rapped heavily upon it with his walking stick. In the
meanwhile, his servant had rapidly gathered several bags and parcels from the
carriage, and had quickly scuttled up behind his master. “Took your time about
it, didn’t you?” Bracegirdle growled, with never a look back, and then
immediately plastered a wide grin on his face as soon as the door opened.
Paladin Took had flung open the door with an expectant look on his face, which
immediately departed at the sight of his guest. “Bracegirdle,” he declared,
rather coolly. “Well, as I mentioned in my letter, this really isn’t the best of
times… Ah, well, I suppose you’re here.” He turned then to his wife, who was
right behind him, “Lana, my dear, do you suppose we can find a room for...” but
then he broke off suddenly at the expression on his wife’s face, and glanced
past the hobbit at the door.
“Frodo!” he boomed out at that, catching sight of the visitors from Bag End,
“Frodo Baggins!” And he and Eglantine Took were past their other visitor without
a backwards glance.
Frodo immediately was swept up in a bear hug by the head of the Took clan, and
when he, laughing merrily, was transferred over to Lana’s warm embrace, Paladin
caught sight of the rest of the party. “Samwise Gamgee!” came the equally
enthusiastic greeting and Sam found himself caught up in just as fierce an
embrace. It wasn’t until then that the two Tooks turned to the pair of lasses,
who were shyly standing nearby.
“Why, you must be Sam’s sisters,” Eglantine Took exclaimed warmly, catching up a
hand from each of them. “You both look so very much like him.”
“Very perceptive of you, of course, Aunt Lana,” Frodo exclaimed happily. “I
would like to introduce you to Mistress Daisy Gamgee, and Miss May Gamgee.”
“Daisy, is it?” Lana replied rather softly, giving her a discerning smile. “Oh,
no, my dears,” she laughed, as they both attempted a rather unpracticed curtsey.
“You are both friends of the family here, my lasses.”
“Frodo!” a sudden yell came from the front door of the smial. “Sam! Finally,
you’re here!” and a streak of gangling limbs and wild chestnut curls hit both
the forenamed with a wild embrace.
“Of course we’re here, Pip,” chuckled Frodo, trying to maintain his balance in
the snow under Pippin’s onslaught. And the four were led into the Great Smials
amidst laughter and excited chatter from Pippin, leaving Bracegirdle and his
servant seemingly unnoticed on the front doorstep. But once Pippin had led Frodo
and Sam off in one direction, and Mistress Took had taken Sam’s sisters in
another, Paladin Took returned reluctantly to the Bracegirdle, mentally
selecting a rather small room, quite far from the dining hall, for him.
*****
“Had to pick out a new room for you, Frodo,” Pippin laughed over his shoulder,
as he cheerily led Frodo and Sam down the winding hallways of the Great Smials.
“Your old room was only meant for one, you know.”
“Oh, we probably could have carried on somehow,” Frodo chuckled, making note of
the corridors passed and the direction of the turns. Sam followed quite closely;
suddenly aware that Frodo’s warning regarding the complexity of the Great Smials
had not been exaggerated.
“Here we are,” Pippin stopped short, and opened a door. But before he entered,
he pointed down the hallway, and added, “Mine’s the one at the end of the next
hall to the right, remember, Frodo?”
“Ah, yes, now I do,” Frodo replied with a nod. “I used to stay in the second
room on the left hand side, right?”
“That would have been the one. Good memory, cousin,” Pippin said cheerily, and
held the door open for the other two.
The room was large and, to Sam’s eyes, wonderfully luxurious. The one bed was
expansive, and well covered in soft but warm blankets. There was a cozy fire
burning in the hearth, with two very comfortable chairs arranged temptingly
before it. The thin sunlight of the winter afternoon shone through the large
window, but there was a sturdy shutter available inside, should the residents of
the room wish to sleep in late of a morning. A pot of tea sat on a small table
on the side of the room, well swaddled to keep it warm, with all necessary
accompanying items, as well as a tray of biscuits and scones to keep the visitor
held together until the next meal.
“Mum thought you might be needing a bit of thawing,” Pippin airily indicated the
food. “I’ll be off for a bit. Merry should be arriving soon.”
He was nearly out the door, but stopped, and added with a grin, “Merry’s parents
are coming, too, Frodo. Just thought I’d give you fair warning.”
Sam was nearly sure he had heard Frodo mutter something impolite under his
breath, but Pippin laughed, and disappeared.
His head popped back in only a moment later. “Tea in about an hour, Frodo, if I
don’t make it back in time. Usual place, you know the drill.”
Frodo nodded, and Pippin vanished, only to reappear nearly as quickly. “See
here, you’ve told Sam about this place now, haven’t you, Frodo?” he queried,
with a bit of a frown this time.
“Absolutely,” Frodo assured him with amusement. “No wandering about the smial
without a guide.”
“Good,” Pippin nodded. “Lose guests all the time about this place. Find them
weeks later wandering about the cellars with nothing but potatoes to keep them
going. Right, then.” And he disappeared again, this time for good.
As soon as it seemed fairly certain that Pippin would not be popping his head
back in once more, Frodo turned around to Sam. “That tea is very persuasive,
but…” he murmured, and then his one arm was firmly around Sam’s waist, and the
other had managed to suddenly be threading its way through the curls at the back
of Sam’s head, and Frodo’s mouth was quite decisively on Sam’s. “After all,”
Frodo breathed, as he and Sam finally broke apart, “I believe that we were
rather interrupted yesterday.”
But Sam quirked his mouth up at that with a rueful chuckle. “Ah, Frodo-love, not
that you aren’t just the most temptin’ creature as ever was, but I’d best be
findin’ where my sisters ended up.” He gently stroked the side of Frodo’s face,
feeling guilty about the look of disappointment he saw there.
“Oh, of course you’re right, Sam” Frodo had to admit, even if with a certain
reluctance, but with both arms still firmly around Sam. “It just seems forever,
some days, until nighttime.”
“ ‘Tis no denyin’ that,” breathed Sam as Frodo’s mouth found his again. Once
again, he broke away, this time with a laugh, “Frodo Baggins! An’ what would
y’be up to now?” he asked in mock indignation, tugging one of Frodo’s hands out
from under the fabric of his trousers, where it had somehow found itself.
Frodo sighed at that, and tried his best to look forlorn. “No comfort for a poor
old hobbit, then…”
Sam’s eyebrow went up at that. “I’d be thinkin’ ‘tis not a cheer-up pat you’d
have in mind,” he retorted with mock severity.
Frodo had to give in and laugh then. “Well, I suppose not,” he admitted. “I
guess your sisters would appreciate having a look at you before tea after all.”
Taking Sam’s arm in his, he had started to walk toward the door when he felt Sam
suddenly stand still. “Frodo,” Sam said softly, with an odd look on his face, as
Frodo turned to glance inquiringly at him. “I’d rather take tea in the servant’s
hall, if you’d not mind that much.”
Frodo looked at him with surprise. Sam’s gaze had quickly transferred itself to
the floor, and he could see that Sam’s cheeks were flushed.
“Why, Sam?” he asked in bewilderment. “This isn’t Brandy Hall, you know.
Pippin’s parents won’t be offended by your staying with me. Actually, I would
rather think they would expect you to.”
“I know, Frodo, that isn’t it. It’s just, well,” Sam stammered slightly, before
lifting his head and declaring, with a firm determination, “I’d not be gentry,
Frodo. An’, I’d not want t’be seemin’ as I was. If it t’were just me here, I’d
not be mindin’ that much, but with my sisters, there’ll be those as would say
something, and that would hurt them.”
“What would they say, Sam?” Frodo had to ask, starting to realize the
implications of what Sam was telling him.
“Mostly foolishness, as unkind folk would always be sayin’, just from not being
able to understand.”
“And would they still be saying that sort of thing, about Hobbiton?” Frodo
continued, almost uncomfortably, suddenly knowing that he really had not
considered this.
Sam was silent for a long moment, watching Frodo’s face as he began to
understand what this had meant for Sam. “Aye,” he answered at last, very
quietly.
But there was no time to reflect upon this, as Pippin suddenly burst through the
door, followed by Merry.
*****
The two Gamgee sisters humbly followed Eglantine Took down a large paneled hall
and past several closed doors before they stopped in the doorway of a large
comfortable sitting room. There were any number of well-dressed young hobbits
chatting and laughing and sipping tea about the crackling fire inside the room,
and both Daisy and even May suddenly felt awkward and woefully underdressed for
the company. But then there was a cry of delight, and Pearl Took bounced out of
a settle in the corner, and made her way through the others with her arms opened
wide in greeting.
“Oh, Daisy, I was so hoping you would come,” she exclaimed, wrapping her in a
fierce hug.
Daisy had lost her powers of speech but nodded happily when Pearl at last drew
back, her cheeks flushed with red.
“And you brought May as well,” Pearl then added, catching sight of May standing,
with uncharacteristic uncertainty, next to her. “That’s wonderful,” she caught
up May too, in a slightly less tight embrace. Turning her back to the others in
the room, who had been watching this greeting with a certain amount of
curiosity, she herded the two lasses back into the hall again. Mistress Took had
gone, to resume her duties in the entrance hall, and Pearl caught up the bag,
that May had gratefully laid down, without thought.
“Follow me, then, “ she called out gaily over her shoulder, and headed off into
the warren that was the Took home, chatting all the while. “I’ll introduce you
to that lot later, but I think you would rather get to your room and warm up and
rest a bit before you try to remember a list of names. I wasn’t sure if you’d
make it you know, so most of the grander rooms were already taken, but I always
thought that this was a lovely room, if a little out of the way, and here we
are.”
She stopped in front of a door and opened it. Both May and Daisy peeked into it
from behind her with awe. Neither had ever seen a room so warm and welcoming,
from the small bouquet of winter blooms in a glass on the table, to the clear
glass window that let the wintry sunshine in, to the soft blue blankets on the
wide bed, and the brightly colored hearth rug that cheered the room up so. Pearl
grinned delightedly at the looks on their faces. “And here’s the best part,” she
added, with a conspiratorial smile. Walking over to a door on the far side of
the room, she opened it with a flourish. “Your very own bath room,” she
indicated with a smile.
And indeed it was, wood-paneled, with a large copper tub and a stool well laden
with towels, a small glazed window high up to let the light in, and a small fire
to warm the room and to heat the bath water.
May stopped still in the doorway, and unconsciously let out a longing sigh. The
other two couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Rather a long and cold trip, I
should imagine,” Pearl said sympathetically. “Perhaps you wouldn’t mind a hot
bath?”
And in no time, May was luxuriating in the most wonderful tub she had ever
known, and happy tunes floated into the other room from time to time from behind
the closed door.
“This room used to be my grandmother’s,” Pearl said softly, sitting on the bed
and watching Daisy bring in the bags from the doorway where they had been
abandoned. “I wanted it myself, but my mother thought it was too far away from
everyone else’s. I wouldn’t have minded that.”
“It really is very nice,” Daisy said shyly, standing in front of the small
table, and gently touching the blossoms there.
There was a moment’s silence, and then Pearl said softly, “You never answered
any of my letters, Daisy.”
Once again, Daisy’s cheeks reddened, and her gaze remained upon the flowers. But
with an effort, she raised her head and looked bravely at Pearl. “I didna know
my letters,” she replied quietly.
Pearl stared silently at her for a moment, and then was instantly up, catching
her in a close embrace. “I’m so sorry, Daisy, I never thought…” she cried
apologetically, her voice catching.
“”No matter, me dear, how could you be knowin’ that?” Daisy replied warmly,
kissing Pearl’s cheek as Pearl’s head was laid upon her shoulder. She led Pearl
back to the bed, and they both sat on the edge of it, their arms still around
each other. “I did try to get Sam to teach me,” she added, smoothing Pearl’s
hair back from her flushed cheeks, “but it was that hard, I never could read but
a word here and there o’it. An’ I never had the courage to write aught back.”
“I’m sorry,” Pearl repeated with a sniff, drawing a quick hand across her teary
eyes. “And here I was, thinking…” and she stopped short at that.
Daisy smiled at her again, and said softly, “Well, now you know. But,” and here
she stood up, breaking away from Pearl. She walked over to her bag and reaching
inside, toward the bottom, drew out a well-wrapped small parcel. May’s voice
could still be heard sporadically, with the occasional splash. Unwrapping the
cloth protecting them, Daisy held out the stack of letters to Pearl.
“Please,” she looked at Pearl, humbly yet hopefully. “Read them to me now?”
“Oh, yes,” Pearl breathed, holding out a hand to Daisy. “Come here, love, and I
will.”
*****
“I’ll come for you then, before dinner,” Frodo spoke quietly to Sam. They were
standing in an out-of-the-way alcove, near the entrance to the servant’s hall,
and Frodo had Sam’s hand clasped tightly, but unobtrusively, between them. “They
all have dinner together, in one great hall, as in Buckland.”
Then he sighed, casting his eyes down to their hands, reluctant to leave. “Sam,”
he murmured hesitantly, “I so wish…”
“I know, Frodo-love,” Sam responded gently. “But you’d be needin’ t’be with your
family, and I need t’be where I belong.”
Frodo quickly looked up at him at that, with an almost fierce glare. “There’s
only one place you need to be, Samwise Gamgee. And that would be here,” he
muttered gruffly. And with that, he threw an arm around Sam, and gave him a
swift, but intense kiss.
“Ah, Frodo,” Sam sighed regretfully, still tightly clutching Frodo’s other hand,
as Frodo released him and stepped back. “ ‘Tis the only place I’ve ever wanted
t’be.”
A small smile lit Frodo’s face at that. “Good,” he answered softly. “Tonight, my
Sam. I’ll find you tonight.” He let go of Sam’s hand at that, and turned without
another glance to follow Pippin and Merry, who had earlier left down the great
hallway.
Sam gave another private sigh and turned to enter the servant’s hall, passing a
hobbit as he did so who seemed oddly familiar. He turned to look again, but the
other was gone.
*****
The three cousins were heading down the hallways, Frodo rather somberly in the
rear, when they encountered Pearl and the two Gamgee sisters, also headed to the
sitting room for tea. Daisy stopped short at the sight of the three of them.
“Excuse me, Mr. Frodo,” she asked hesitantly, “but where would my brother be?”
Frodo halted almost reluctantly, letting the other two pass heedlessly on ahead.
“Sam thought to find you in the servants’ hall,” he answered, almost
unwillingly, deliberately not looking at Pearl.
“Ah,” breathed Daisy, clearly with relief, ”that’s we’d ought t’be, surely now.”
May stopped behind her silently, reassurance and disappointment obviously
mingled upon her face.
“Wouldn’t he rather stay with you?” Pearl asked from behind Daisy, noticeably
dismayed by Frodo’s words.
“No, I rather think not,” Frodo answered firmly, giving Pearl an intent glance.
She said no more at that, but bowed her head.
Frodo presented an arm to both Daisy and May then. “I’ll be more than happy to
lead you there,” he offered quietly. “We will all be meeting again for dinner,
as is the custom here.” He gave another glance toward Pearl, but she said
nothing and turned to follow Pippin and Merry back to the sitting room where the
company expected them.
*****
Frodo made his distracted way back to the crowded sitting room, his mind far
from the hobbits within. But as he entered the high-ceilinged, spacious room,
his attention was immediately drawn back to present company by the booming voice
of his uncle, Saradoc Brandybuck, Merry’s father.
“Frodo, my lad,” he heard, and immediately he was embraced tightly by a strong
pair of arms, and Merry and Pippin were grinning at him from nearby.
“Good Yule to you, too, Uncle Sara,” he responded politely yet warmly, giving
the Master of Buckland an affectionate hug in return.
Saradoc Brandybuck chuckled and murmured, “Good to see you, Frodo, you‘ve been
away from Brandy Hall entirely too long. But those two have been waiting for
you, so I’ll have a chat with you later.” He turned toward one of the large
diamond-paned windows, where a grateful Paladin Took caught sight of him, and
took the excuse to escape the omnipresent Bracegirdle.
“Come have some teacake, Frodo,” Merry clasped a warm hand around Frodo’s
shoulders. “It really is rather good, raisins and all.” Frodo gave him an amused
smile. Merry couldn’t have been in the room any more than five minutes ahead of
him, but evidence that his opinion was based upon fact was already demonstrated
by the heaped plate in his hand, and with a gulp, the other half of the teacake
slice promptly disappeared after the first.
Pippin nodded happily at Merry’s side, his plate equally full. “Cook’s awfully
good at that sort of thing,” he agreed placidly. “Try it, Frodo. It‘s nearly as
good as Sam’s.”
But instantly, at the sight of the change of expression on Frodo’s face, Pippin
apologetically reached out to lightly touch Frodo’s arm. “I didn’t mean…” he
began, rather lamely, and then had to ask, “Why won’t Sam come in here, Frodo?
Really, my parents would love to have him.”
“I know, Pippin,” Frodo sighed, and headed toward the tea table. He rather
moodily fixed himself a cup, and then walked over to an empty corner chair near
the bookshelves.
His cousins silently followed him, giving each other a concerned glance behind
his back. Merry propped himself on the arm of the matching corner chair, and
Pippin plopped himself down on the rug in front of Frodo. “Out with it, cousin,”
Merry said, as soon as they had situated themselves away from the others.
“What’s this all about?”
Frodo sightlessly stared into his teacup before finally taking a sip. “Sam
doesn’t think he belongs in here,” he said at last, unhappily. “He thinks that
the others will think that he’s putting himself above his station and make
remarks, and, especially with his sisters here too, that’s not what he wants.”
The other two watched silently, as Frodo plunked his cup on a side table and
rising, strode heedlessly over to a window. “It’s not right,” Frodo said then,
very softly, and with both concern and amazement, the other two could suddenly
see that he was blinking back tears. “It’s just not right.”
Merry moved first, walking quickly over to Frodo and standing between him and
the rest of the room as Frodo fought to regain control of himself. Pippin was
right behind, silent, but watching Frodo with dismay. “I’m sorry,” Frodo bent
his head down, and then glanced quickly over at them, restrained again, with
only a trace of suspicious brightness to his eyes. “I just never think about how
his life has been turned upside down by me. When there’s just the two of us at
Bag End, it never seems to matter at all. He handles it so well that I forget
what sort of position I’ve put him in, sometimes.”
Merry watched him, and only Pippin noticed the odd look that fleetingly rested
in his eyes. “Whatever he has to deal with,” he observed softly, “I rather think
Sam finds reward enough being with you.”
“But that’s just it, you see,” Frodo glanced unhappily over at him. “Why should
it be he that pays the price?”
Merry did not reply immediately, but turned his head toward the center of the
room. His mother was seated on the central couch, comfortably tucked into a
corner of it, and with a chair pulled up before her, was a smiling Bracegirdle.
Her clear laugh could suddenly be heard, and it was obvious, by the direction of
their gaze, who their topic of conversation was.
“I believe Sam isn’t the only one paying a price,” Merry observed softly, with
narrowed eyes. “This room seems to be getting a trifle close, lads. Perhaps we
need a walk outside.”
They left the room at that, and cared not who looked their way, and why.
Outside, they followed Pippin blindly over the snowy grounds, until they found
themselves in the kitchen garden courtyard, well sheltered with brick walls.
Frodo, who had had his head down, suddenly gave it a quick shake, and looked
towards his cousins, who were silently following him, with a rueful smile.
“Don’t mind me,” he said softly. “This is a matter for Sam and me. But tell me,
Pip, who is that Bracegirdle fellow?”
Merry gave a snort at that. “I could tell you that, Frodo,” he declared wryly.
“He’s a second cousin once removed, or some such nonsense, to my mother, as well
as Pip’s father.”
Pippin nodded at that. “He’s been trying to buy a couple of ponies off of my
father for months,” he offered. “Apparently, he’s at it again.”
“Yuletide,” Merry grunted. “Always the best time for business matters. Puts
everyone in the holiday spirit, that does.”
Frodo couldn’t help laughing at that. “All right,” he conceded, “I’ll pay him no
mind.” Glancing around the frosty garden, his eyes fell on a snow-dusted plant,
both rose-colored, and green. “What’s this?” he asked, curiously. “Some sort of
cabbage or chard?”
Pippin stared at the plant blankly. “No idea, whatsoever,” he finally offered,
feebly. “I’d have to ask the gardeners.”
Frodo chuckled fondly at that. “Of course you wouldn’t know, Pip,” he murmured
warmly. “But Sam will be wanting to see this.”
*****
Sam was sitting with his sisters, cups of tea and plates of well-buttered bread
before them, when the other hobbit walked up. Sam recognized him instantly as
being Bracegirdle’s servant. Politely, he stood up with a bow, acknowledging his
counterpart’s presence.
“Lar Hoarfoot,” the other introduced himself, rather shyly. “At your service, my
good hobbits.”
“Samwise Gamgee,” Sam responded, bowing slightly, “and my sisters Daisy and
May.” Indicating an empty seat beside him, he added in a friendly fashion, “Join
us, won’t you?”
The other hobbit sat down next to Sam, with a nod of his head and a bashful
smile. Silently, he watched the merriment and chatter around him, before
diffidently turning to Sam and observing, “Your master seems to be a very fine
gentle hobbit.”
Sam turned to look at him with an expression of uncertainty. “Aye, that he is,”
he said softly, watching Lar closely. “Never any better than him.”
Lar gave a soft sigh at that, still not looking directly at Sam, but just then,
a fiddler, down at one end of the hall, struck a ringing, rolling chord upon his
instrument. Reeds, hurdy-gurdies, tambourines and drums immediately joined in to
set out a grand flourish, and a great cry of delight went up in the servant’s
hall of the Great Smial, which was quickly and enthusiastically cleared. It was
time for dancing.
May clapped her hands together, her cheeks flushing with delight, for there was
nothing she loved more. “Dancing, Sam!” she cried out with glee, turning to her
brother.
“Very well, then,” he laughed fondly at her predictable response. “I’ll take you
out for a turn, m’dear.” And with a quick arm around her waist, and the flash of
an amused glance back at a chuckling Daisy, Sam deftly led May into the midst of
the dancers.
*****
The dancing was still continuing a few hours later, when Frodo made his way to
the hall to find Sam. Unobserved, he stood quietly near the doorway and watched.
He immediately spotted Sam, in the midst of the dancers, partnered with a buxom
lass with flying curls and a merry giggle. She whispered something into his ear
as they drew together for a twirling step, and Sam laughed and shook his head
playfully as they drew apart. Frodo noticed May Gamgee dancing as well, with the
hobbit that they had met at the inn, Bracegirdle’s servant. But he was almost
unrecognizable from the timid creature that had jumped at Bracegirdle’s
commands, and it was clear that May had found a partner whose love of dancing
equaled her own. Even Daisy, though not dancing, was chatting happily with a
pair of goodwives as they sat on the benches near the great hearth.
And as Frodo watched Sam, he had to concede that Sam had been right. The three
Gamgees were far happier and far more at their ease here then they ever would
have been in the sitting room. But as he continued to watch, Frodo knew equally
as well that he could never belong here. He felt a curious unhappy pang at that
thought, and felt reluctant to question why.
But just then, Sam caught sight of him, and the happy smile that had been on his
face deepened, and his eyes lit up. With a bow to his disappointed partner, he
escorted her to the side, and approached Frodo. “ ‘Tis almost nighttime, now,
Frodo-love,” he said softly to Frodo, with a tender smile, not even glancing
about to see who might hear.
Frodo couldn’t help a quiet laugh at that, a quick surge of excitement running
through him at Sam’s tone. “Weary travelers that we are, I should think no one
would mind us retiring early tonight,” he smiled warmly, and reached out for
Sam’s hand.
*****
Sam was unprepared for what he saw as he escorted Daisy into the Great Hall of
the Took ancestral home. Frodo was just ahead of him, with May’s arm firmly
wrapped around his, but he could hear May’s gasp before he looked in himself,
and understood. The Great Hall at Brandy Hall had been majestic indeed, a large
stately room in the newer section of the Hall that was built away from the hill,
grand enough to have two huge stone fireplaces at either end, and the richest of
appointments throughout.
But this. The room was cavernous, dug into the heart of the ancient hill
forgotten ages ago. The ceiling arched high, darkly out of sight, and there were
no less than four grand hearths that he saw, to warm and cheer the place. There
were torches, rather than candles, set into the walls, but the long highly
polished table that ran through the center of the hall had more candles merrily
flickering down it than Sam’s family had ever used in a year. Long benches ran
down the sides of the table, well cushioned, and with comfortable backs, and the
immense side tables held unimaginable quantities of food and drink. And rather
than the stately costly look the table at Brandy Hall had had, the great table
here seemed as though an entire storehouse of rich and antique dishes, goblets
and silver had been carelessly strewn across it for all, gentle-hobbits and
serving folk alike, to use as they chose.
Frodo had turned with an amused look to watch Sam’s reaction to this splendor.
“Rather impressive, isn’t it?” he chuckled. “Not that you’ll ever get Pippin to
admit it. It’s just home to him.” Looking over to one side, he noticed Pearl
Took approaching, and with a slight gracious bow, he led the two obviously
stunned lasses toward her.
Quickly stepping back again next to Sam, he confided with a grin, “But the best
of it all is that no one really cares where and with whom you sit.”
Sam looked questioningly at him as they stood together just to the side of the
hall’s entrance. “I’m afraid I’d not understand,” he admitted hesitantly.
“Well, that isn’t completely true,” Frodo amended his statement, pointing to the
center of the lengthy table. “The Took and Thain is always seated at the center
along with his wife, and Pip, as heir, has to sit there too. He hates that, you
know,” he chuckled, gesturing to where Pip did indeed sit, accompanying his
parents. “And if Merry’s parents are here, they sit there as well, and Merry
too, which at least gives Pip company. But the rest of us lesser mortals,” he
continued with a grin at Sam, “may sit where we wish. Gentle hobbits, working
hobbits, it makes no difference at the Great Smials. At least not on feast
days.”
Sam had already noticed that Pearl had drawn his two sisters further away down
the table, and was introducing them to a pair of gentle-hobbit lasses. “Pippin’s
other two sisters,” Frodo explained, following Sam’s gaze. “Pimpernel and
Pervinca. They’re good company too, I’d imagine they’ll all get on.” He paused
for a moment thoughtfully, and added, “Actually, Nell can be a bit of a snit at
times, but I’m sure Pearl will keep her in line. But let’s get some food, and
sit wherever you like.”
They had just settled down in a relatively less populated section of the table,
plates well heaped and an entire bottle of Tuckbourough’s finest under Frodo’s
arm, for his and Sam’s exclusive use, when several older hobbits rather noisily
joined the throng. It was evident that their time had been spent, prior to
dinner, with something a bit stronger than tea, and to Frodo and Sam’s dismay,
the empty benches across from where they sat seemed to prove attractive. Frodo
recognized a couple of his more distant Took cousins and, unfortunately,
Bracegirdle among the pack.
Down they heavily plopped, laughing loudly and referring to obscure jokes in
rather slurred voices. A couple of them rose, wandering off in search of some
food, and, of course, another bottle or two. The others started to gaze about
after a bit, and that’s when Bracegirdle’s eye fell on Frodo and Sam. His own
servant, who had followed him in, was quietly standing at his back, awaiting his
master’s whim.
“You see,” he slurred, with a look of distaste at the two of them, “tha’s wha’s
all wrong about that Hobbiton lot. No proper respect for position.”
“Actually, old chap,” muttered one of the distant Tooks to Bracegirdle,
confidentially buttonholing him, and speaking with a wink, “that’s rather the
custom here on feast days. All one merry family, don’t you know.”
“Not the best of customs, if you ask me,” Bracegirdle replied acidly, continuing
to give Frodo and Sam a cold stare. “Gives the working class airs, I’d say.
Might almost be thinking they’d be equal, or some such rubbish. You’d not be
thinking anything like that, now would you, boy?” he gave a barking laugh, never
glancing back.
“No, sir,” his servant answered quickly but quietly, staring straight ahead.
Frodo gave the other visitor a cold glance and shrugged briefly. “This open
table does seem to attract all sorts,” he bit down on his words crisply. “Shall
we move down the table a bit, Sam? The view seems rather better down there.”
Sam said nothing but followed Frodo down to a more companionable section of the
table. As he did so however, he caught a glimpse of an almost wistful glance
from Lar before his head turned rigidly in front of him again.
*****
Frodo was quiet as they entered their room after dinner, but Sam could see that
the current of bitterness that had been just under his congenial behavior all
evening was still there. He had had perhaps more wine than he usually did, and
had even brought a bottle back with him. Sam inwardly sighed, but prepared
himself. Frodo would have to be getting this anger out before the evening was
over. There was something eating at him, and it was more than just the
Bracegirdle.
Frodo stood in front of the fire, which had already been lit and coaxed into a
cozy flame, and seemed lost in thought. Sam stood quietly by the door he had
just closed, and watched him. As always, the glow of the flames lit Frodo’s fair
skin with a golden glow, and brought out the russet lights in his dark curls.
And even though Sam waited with silent concern, he couldn’t help but marvel at
the beauty that was Frodo. Even in this splendid setting with riches and
magnificence everywhere, Frodo still shone out in Sam’s eyes, all grace and
radiance. It was ever a wonder to him that others seemed to consider him as
lacking, not looking as a proper hobbit should. But then Frodo broke into his
bemused thoughts by unconsciously sighing, and turning toward the round window
with its still open shutter, rested his forehead against the cold glass and
closed his eyes.
Well, that was entirely too much for Sam. He was behind Frodo in an instant,
quickly grasping the bottle from Frodo’s unresisting grip, and laying it hastily
aside on a nearby table. Then wrapping gentle arms around Frodo, he lightly
kissed the nape of Frodo’s neck, inhaling the wonderful clean scent of his
curls, and waited, speaking to Frodo only through his touch.
Frodo laid one hand over Sam’s arms, but did not otherwise move or utter a word
for quite awhile. But then Sam felt him set his shoulders slightly, and knew
that Frodo was ready to talk. His voice was quiet, yet somehow harsh. “What do
they say in Hobbiton, Sam?” he asked, his eyes still closed, and his forehead
still on the glass.
He had not forgotten Sam’s words, and Sam withdrew slightly from Frodo at that,
wishing that he had earlier had the sense to say naught. It was his clumsy
words, once again, stirring up old troubles, and fretting at Frodo. Guiltily, he
stepped back, and murmured, “Only foolishness, Frodo. Naught to be thinkin’ of.”
Well he knew though, that this would not satisfy Frodo.
Frodo turned around quickly at Sam’s words, and nearly snapped at him. “Sam, I
should know. They’ll never say it to my face, there, but I know you hear it.
What do they say of us?”
“Naught that’s true,” Sam answered unhappily, dreading to try to put the
sideways glances, the knowing smiles and lifted eyebrows into words. He had
learned to ignore them, to sometimes hear selectively, to not react to
insinuation and not give them the satisfaction of a response.
Frodo read his face all too well however, and, walking over to where Sam stood,
grasped his shoulders with a firm grip. “It’s mostly you they speak of, isn’t
it,” he stated tightly, watching as Sam’s face helplessly colored in response,
and Sam lowered his eyes. “They’ve always thought me a bit odd, just like Bilbo
was, and of course I’m Master of Bag End. No, it’d be you that would be the
brunt of remarks, wouldn’t it, Sam.”
Sam nodded almost imperceptibly, his eyes closing tightly. His words came out
haltingly, in a ragged whisper. “They say I’m lookin’ for riches and a fine
life. That as long as I’d be pleasin’ you, I’d be thinkin’ myself as above them
all. They say that I’d be makin’ your bed a lot colder if you’d no gold.” He
drew a breath that was more of a sob, and looking back up into Frodo’s somber
eyes, his own filled with tears, he added, “They say so many hurtful things
sometimes, I don’t have the heart t’tell you. But it ain’t all of them, Frodo,
just some folks with small hearts and not the sense they were born with.”
The anger that had been in Frodo’s words flamed across his face, and his grip on
Sam’s arms unknowingly tightened. But Sam raised a gentle hand to the side of
his face and lightly touched his cheek. “ ‘Tis only a pack of lies, me dear,
don’t you let it be hurtin’ you, now. I’d not be carin’ what folk like that
think, you’d never be changin’ their minds. They only look for hurt and sorrow,
they never see love.”
Standing close to Frodo, he touched his face again lightly, and then drew back,
breaking Frodo’s unresisting grasp and throwing his arms around Frodo’s neck.
“This is what’d they’d never know,” he breathed, and passionately met Frodo’s
mouth with his own. With a choked moan, Frodo’s mouth opened instantly to his,
as one strong arm encircled Sam’s waist and the other ran through Sam’s curls,
drawing him all the closer. Hungrily, Frodo’s tongue sought his, twining with
it, caressing it.
Sam needed no more invitation than that. Never letting their mouths part, he
thrust his hands under Frodo’s jacket and slid it off of his shoulders. Frodo
released his embrace of Sam for only a moment, to let the garment drop to the
ground, and then held Sam all the more closely. Sam could feel Frodo’s legs
pressing against his own, and Frodo’s arousal grinding into his hip. Eagerly, he
slid his hand down the front of Frodo’s trousers, rubbing it slowly but
fervently, and Frodo broke his mouth away from Sam’s at that touch and gasped,
his eyes closing as he pushed himself into Sam’s strong hand.
“Oh, Sam,” he cried out, throwing his head back. As always, the sight of that
luminescent throat was enticing beyond all thought to Sam, and with a soft
unconscious growl, his hands were suddenly busy with Frodo’s weskit and shirt
buttons, and his mouth was on those irresistible collar bones, kissing and
nibbling, his tongue darting in the delicious hollows. And now he could feel
Frodo’s hand on him, those long strong fingers molding themselves to him,
sliding lingeringly against the rough fabric of his trousers, and he felt his
knees begin to weaken with the sheer want to feel this beloved body bare and
tight against his.
With a fierce cry, he pulled the rest of Frodo’s upper garments off, and now his
calloused hands ground up Frodo’s chest, which was already starting to slicken
with sweat. Bending toward Frodo, he traced his tongue further down now, tasting
the salt, tracing and nipping at those dark circles, hearing Frodo’s gasping
cries.
Frodo’s hands had moved around by now to the front of his trousers, and were
rapidly unfastening them, tugging at the cloth. And oh, that was nearly painful,
as hard as he was by now, but his own hands joined Frodo’s in pulling at the
clothing, as his mouth once again found Frodo’s. And then the feel of those
fingers around him, with no more intervening fabric. All rational thought
escaped Sam then, as he clasped Frodo’s hands tightly in his own, and moved his
hips unconsciously, his breath coming in short gasps. It was only with the
greatest of effort that he managed to open his eyes and look into Frodo’s, and
at that, he was, as always, lost to the rest of the world.
Frodo’s normally light blue eyes were dark in the flickering golden light, but
it was the expression that they held that made Sam suddenly giddy. It was naked
passion and open love shining in Frodo’s eyes, freely offered and without
reserve or guard. “I truly love you, Sam,” he whispered fervently, and his touch
was burning on Sam’s skin. “There’s nothing at all I would not do for you, my
dearest Sam.”
“Ah!” Sam cried out at that, his heart so full that it surely seemed as if it
must be close to breaking. “Love me, Frodo! ‘Tis all I’ve ever wanted, all I’ve
ever dreamed of.”
And now it felt as if Frodo was half leading, half carrying him to the soft bed,
and divesting both of them quickly of what garments still remained. “Always,
Sam, my dearest love,” he murmured tenderly, lying over Sam, who was clutching
tightly to him and almost moaning with want. He ground down hard on Sam then,
who rocked himself upward with a strangled shout. “Always, Sam,” he repeated,
holding Sam’s gaze as their bodies fell into the age-old rhythm. “I’ll always
love you, Sam.”
There were no more words Sam could utter at that save Frodo’s name, calling him
and wordlessly promising to stay, to always be with him, to forever love him.
*****
Daisy lay in her luxurious bed beside her sister, whose excited chatter had
finally started to fade, and had been replaced with the quiet breathing of one
who was well asleep. She stared out of the window, at the clear stars coldly
bright in the frigid winter night. Reviewing the day’s events, she gave a small
sigh, careful not to disturb her sister.
But as she fell asleep, her thoughts were of a quiet Bag End, with its
flower-strewn back field, and the lass she had swung about in her arms, as the
two of them laughed in the warm afternoon sun.
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