Author: Sam

Story: Leather-bound: 2.5 of ?

Series: n/a

Note: This is a half chapter: this is not imperative to the rest of the series, but for those who don't mind mention of slash, it has meaning.

Setting: Number Three Bagshot Row as related in The Red Book of Westmarch.

Song Note: Father And Son by Cat Stevens. I first heard this song performed by Boyzone, but I understand it is a rewrite.

Feedback: Yes, please? Especially constructive. samwise_baggins@yahoo.co.uk

Webpage: http://www.oocities.org/samwise_baggins/index.html

Samwise Gamgee was a rotund Hobbit with a shy smile and a soft laugh. He had work-worn hands, a strong back, and a certain quality, which proclaimed him steadfast and true. He was the kind of Hobbit any lass would sigh over, as he was just exactly what every Hobbit should ever be.

Sam was a gardener, like his father before him. He would tend the vegetables and flowers of Bag End, fix and paint, and basically do any odd job which needed doing. Naturally, the wide array of jobs he performed for his master, Frodo, did not normally fall under the lexicon of gardener, but Sam did them none-the-less. Not only did he perform these sometimes-arduous tasks, he did so with a smile and song for he loved his master dearly.

Frodo was untouchable.

Frodo Baggins was thinner with a bit of paleness to his skin. He was a bit on the tall side, delicate enough to worry many a Hobbit woman, and had a sort of oddness about him which no one could quite name but was there just the same. Frodo's eyes, however, were his most entrancing feature, being so very large and so very blue. One could drown in such eyes.

He was a genteel Hobbit with wealth and land. Often, the young Hobbit could be found reading books, studying, or simply lying in the grass enjoying himself without care for how his housework might get done. After all, he paid Sam to do that work. Frodo Baggins was more scholar than anything else.

Over the many years that the simple gardener worked for his carefree master a friendship sprung up and nurtured to full blossom. Frodo would sometimes take time from his studies to teach Sam his letters or tell him stories about Elves, a race Sam could only dream of as they never came to the Shire and Sam never even considered leaving. The pair would sit in contented silence as both performed their own daily tasks, at times as close as a touch away, though that touch of course never happened. Why should it? Both Hobbits were busy with daily living.

Over those same years of friendship and trust, something else seemed to slowly take shape. Somehow, someway, Sam had fallen in love with Frodo. This confused and frightened him. Such a love was not natural; he'd heard the whispers at the Green Dragon. He recalled the gossip and hurtful comments overheard about such unnatural Hobbits. Such a strong, binding love between two males, or between two females, was taboo. It was one of the most serious unspoken crimes of the Shire.

Worried about his feelings, afraid he would be required to leave the Shire for Bree, Sam approached his father for help.

Hamfast Gamgee, known as the Gaffer for his love of talking about plants and farming, was working in his own vegetable patch, enjoying the warm sun on his neck and the warm earth in his hands. He was the father of three daughters and three sons, his youngest boy being Sam. There was never so proud a father as Gaffer Gamgee; his children were as normal as a Hobbit could be and no one ever had reason to dredge up a Gamgee as subject of speculation, unless he were speculating which Gamgee would settle with the biggest family. The Gamgees were well loved by everyone.

"Gaffer?" Sam squatted down, nervously trying to determine his father's mood. "I've got a problem what needs help solving, sir."

"Right. Well, I'm listening, son. What problem has you troubled?" The Hobbit went right on gardening, his smile slipping to a serious mien, displaying his concern for helping his youngest son. He loved his children and ached when they ached. He wanted to ease their way as best he could.

Sam sighed and bowed his head, gathering his thoughts. He'd never been one to speak quickly, mulling things over longer than most. Others thought he was a bit slow because of such a habit, but those who knew him realized it was simply his way. Sam was really very bright if given a chance, though he didn't tend to see that any easier than others did. Finally, he spoke softly hoping none of the other Gamgees would overhear. "I feel like something's not... as it should be. I feel different from what I once did, Sir. I..." he sighed, "I'm afraid I may have to leave the Shire, I feel so... odd. If you catch my meaning?"

Slowly, Gaffer lowered his hands, straightening his age-bent back. He didn't look at his son, a dreaded feeling of understanding coming over him. He knew what Sam meant, even if his boy hadn't come out clearly with it. After all, he knew his son, didn't he? The question was how to advise his son so he could lead an acceptable life. The Gaffer turned, looking his son straight in the eye.

Sam shook his head. "No, Gaffer, sir, I don't think you quite understand. I... I want to spend my time with a certain someone, but... well, sir, it's wrong of me, you see?"

The Gaffer touched his son's shoulder and leaned closer, making sure to capture his son's eyes once more. This was a very delicate problem, and he needed to reveal something he'd never shown before in order to help the child most like him.

He nodded, as if that decided things, and went back to his gardening. "Listen, son, go inside and think hard. You'll find you've the answer. You know it's right, even if you feel it's wrong."

With a sigh, the younger Hobbit stood and walked into the small hole his father had once built for a new bride. He looked around, eyes misting, as he went over his choices. It was the first time his father hadn't been able to help, hadn't even understood. He sighed to himself, passing the small pantry once used as an infant room and headed into the room he shared with his brothers.

He buried his face in his arms, trying so hard not to cry. How could this have happened? How could he have done something so utterly wrong? And how could he make his father understand if he couldn't talk about it? Did his father actually understand, though? Sam reviewed the advice in his head, looking for that deeper wisdom he always tried to find.

No. There was nothing hidden. His father had as much as told Sam that he was misunderstanding his own feelings: that he couldn't possibly feel that way. He was telling Sam to marry a lass and have a normal Hobbit life, despite what he felt so deep inside. If someone figured it out, if something slipped out, Sam would be reviled instead of welcomed. His problem was larger than ever.

He reached for a pack, intent on leaving that very night before he embarrassed his family or disgusted his best friend. Sam started folding some clothing, letting his mind replay everything he'd ever done with Frodo, everything they'd ever said. His mind wandered once again over his father's hurtful advice and Sam slowly stopped moving, his green eyes widening.

Was once like he is now? That was what Gaffer had said. But how could he be? Sam was in love with a male Hobbit; Gaffer was married to Bell and had six children. Think of everything you've got? What did he have? Sinking slowly to his bed, pack beside him, hands wrapped around a soft, worn shirt, Sam thought hard. He had family and home, friends and Frodo. If he left, he'd lose it all. If he stayed?

If he stayed, he'd have to bury his love and continue living. Was that possible? Sam thought over the advice again and a slow dawning came to him. Yes, it was. His father must have also been in love with a male Hobbit. He'd chosen to stay in the Shire, marry Bell, and deny his unnatural feelings. And he was right; Gaffer was happy, wasn't he?

Slowly standing, Sam nodded. He'd take the advice he'd sought, painful as it was. He would do it. He would deny his love and live a normal life. Someday, he might find the happiness his father had found.

Sam Gamgee started to unpack.