"You........you cheeky little bugger!"

       Samwise Gamgee huffed in annoyance and glowered at a small dandelion plant which had had the temerity to pop up in the middle of the flower bed at Bag End while he had been busy with Mayoral duties. Sam was not amused. He took great pride in the garden and worked hard to make it perfect for Frodo, and here was this ........weed sitting there, looking almost smug.

       "Bloody nerve of it!"

       A dark curly head appeared at the study window, half obscured by the hollyhocks which grew in profusion around the smial. Brilliant blue eyes regarded Sam for a moment, crinkling at the corners as Frodo tried not to laugh.

       "What are you swearing about, Sam?"

       "Beggin' your pardon, Frodo, but it's this wretched thing!." He pointed with his toe towards the offending plant.

       Frodo lost his battle and howled. "Oh, your face! Makes me really glad I'm not a weed. I wouldn't want to arouse your ire. If you make many more faces like that you'll frighten the thing to death!"

       "Well, I'm glad I'm causing you amusement, but this is not funny." Sam scowled at the dandelion, which was quite shameless in its behaviour.

       "No.......no, of course it isn't," spluttered Frodo, struggling to compose himself and look properly scandalised.

      "What are you going to do? Rip it out?"

       Sam looked quite shocked. "I couldn't do that to something as useful as a dandelion! That's only for really bad weeds. It's a living thing, and the rabbits like 'em. Reckon I'll pot it up and take it to the paddock for re-planting for those coneys."

       Frodo looked on fondly as Sam lifted the plant gently with a trowel and put it in a pot with some soft soil. Sam was always so tender with fragile plants and tiny seedlings, as he was with babies, new-born calves and lambs, as he had always been with Frodo himself. Even in the midst of delirium and nightmare, Sam had been there, stroking his brow, tending his wounds, taking care. Frodo found himself blinking back sudden tears as he thought of what Sam meant to him.

       "I want to come out and play in the dirt today! I want you to teach me how to be a gardener, Sam."

      "Play in the dirt?" Sam repeated disbelievingly. "And as for teaching you to be a gardener.........I reckon I'm still learning meself."

       "Stop splitting hairs! You know what I mean, you exasperating.................Gamgee! I want to come and dig, and spread compost and get my hands dirty."

       "Do you think that's quite right? I mean, you're a gentlehobbit and not used to rough work and the like. And I'll not have you tiring yourself out neither!"

       "Phooey! Stop mollycoddling, you old fusspot! I'm much stronger these days, you know. We went all the way to Gondor and I didn't swoon away, did I? I want to do it.............please?" He batted his long eyelashes and pouted at Sam over the hollyhocks. Sam relented, knowing he could deny his master nothing.

       "Alright. But not in those clothes, mind. If Rosie were to find out you'd dirtied that shirt we'd never hear the end of it, and we'd both be lucky if we escaped the tea towel!" He chuckled as Frodo made a face.

       "Oh................sticklebacks!!!!!! Alright, I'll find some old things - if Rose hasn't taken them all off for that charitable group she runs! Should have kept the tatty Mordor rags, I suppose. They'd come in useful at times like this."

       "'Cept they're sitting in a big posh mathom house in Minas Tirith, behind glass and guarded by two of Gondor's finest at all times, being gawped at by all and sundry!" He chortled. "I'll bet they never thought when they joined the army of the King that they'd end up guarding a filthy shirt, brown velveteen pants and some Orc rags once worn by the most famous hobbit in Middle-earth!" Sam ducked as Frodo lobbed a peach stone out of the window. He grinned to himself as he finished tidying the borders, then went inside to see about elevenses, although it was nearer lunchtime.

       Frodo heard Sam pattering down the passage. He poured hot water into the teapot, and set out bread, butter, ham, a large pork pie, cheese, spring onions and tomatoes, and a big bowl of cherries. He was wearing old, well-worn green cord pants and a cream-coloured, much- darned shirt which was missing a couple of buttons and had seen better days.

       Sam tutted. He still worried about his master overdoing things, and it did not seem right for him to be doing such menial tasks. Rosie had taken the children down to the Cotton's farm for a day or two, leaving her menfolk to their own devices, and in her absence Sam felt he should be preparing meals, but Frodo had other ideas.

       "Oh pooh! Stop making that disapproving face, Mister Mayor! I am more than capable of making lunch, and I thought if we had it now we could get a lot of work done in the garden." Frodo beamed and bustled to and fro, fetching plates and cutlery and waving Sam aside, despite his grumbling.

                                                                                 ************

       They ate lunch, chatting companionably, and then cleared away the things. Frodo was looking forward to his lesson. Being indoors on a lovely summer day was not ideal, and his love for literature had been dampened by envy of Sam's job in the fresh air. He had heard his friend whistling as he worked and decided an afternoon in the garden was required.

      Sam led the way round to the little memorial garden for Boromir. It was full of brilliant reds and whites, with soft blue lobelia and forget-me-nots tumbling across the ground. At the back stood tall grasses and ferns, and in the middle of the flower bed, planted in white alyssum, was a picture of the White Tree of Gondor. The noise of the little waterfall in the corner, and the humming of the bees were the only sounds to disturb the summer afternoon.

       Sam opened the sack he was carrying. "Know what this is?" He lifted a handful and let it trickle through his fingers.

       "Looks like bits of bark," said Frodo, following Sam's example. "What do we do with it?"

       "You know what mulch means?" Frodo nodded. "Do you know why we mulch?"

       "Ummm......keep the roots moist and stop weeds?" He looked up expectantly, seeking Sam's approval.

       "Very good! You've obviously been listening more attentively than I thought! And here was me thinking I was talking to meself all these years!" Sam chuckled and ducked the hand which skimmed his curls. "I watered in here this morning while it was shady, and we just need to fill in any bits which look a bit thin."

       They pottered about, filling up the gaps with sprinkles of bark. Sam whistled as they worked, and when he produced a recognisable tune Frodo sang the words. When they finished in there, they went into the rose garden, which was a riot of colour and full of the heavy scent of the roses. Sam peered at one of the bushes and looked aghast.

       "Greenfly?!" he sputtered. "Little perishers!" He puffed on his pipe and sent a stream of smoke curling over the leaves. "That should fettle 'em!" He glared at the offending pests and muttered under his breath. Frodo tried not to smirk, and failed miserably. "Aye, you can grin, Frodo Baggins! Don't think I don't know what sort of expression you're wearing behind my back!" He turned to look at a suitably contrite Frodo, who stood with clasped hands and downcast eyes, meek as a little lamb. "Come on then - let's find that compost, as you're intent on getting mucky."

       "Oh goody!" Frodo looked up, his eyes sparkling and full of life. "At last, some dirt."

       "If I'd known you was this keen on dirt I'd have hauled you out here long ago," Sam murmured.

       The compost was rich and dark and crumbly and Sam was immensely proud of it. He went to transfer the compost from the big bin into the barrow but Frodo removed the shovel from his hands and filled the barrow before trundling it round to the vegetable garden. Sam watched him with concern, fretting that his master was overdoing things.

       "Put this on," he said, and slapped a floppy, large-brimmed hat on Frodo's curls. "Don't want you getting sunstroke or burning that fair skin of yours."

       "Will you stop fussing! I'm having a good time, and you're not going to spoil it, even with this ridiculous hat!"

       "Do you mind!? That's my sun hat, that is!" Sam was laughing as he eyed his master, whose cheeks were pink and his face and neck damp with sweat.

       "And what are you going to do? You shouldn't be out in the sun without a hat either." Frodo peered out from beneath the brim, his lower lip jutting out in something dangerously close to a pout.

       "I'm going to wear this one," said Sam, and produced a large straw creation from the shed. Frodo looked at it in disbelief.

       "That's not a hat - it's a roof!"

       "Now you know why I gave you that one!" Sam added. This one would swamp you completely."

       Frodo agreed, giggling. "I'd be a hat with feet!"

       When the compost had been spread around the vegetables to Sam's satisfaction, they sat in the shade and sipped cool ale. Rufus flopped on the grass under the table and sprawled indecorously, ignoring their teasing. Sam scanned Frodo anxiously, but saw no signs of exhaustion. The fine features were slightly flushed with exertion but he was relaxed, laughing, and showing no tiredness.

       "Will you stop staring! I promise I'm not about to collapse like my aunt Asphodel did whenever her stays were too tight! I am better, Sam, really," he added gently, placing his hand on Sam's arm.

       "I know. It's just that I worry sometimes. There's nothing of you."

       "All wire and whipcord, Uncle Bilbo used to say. I could have died a dozen times on the Quest and a hundred times since, but I didn't, so I must be tough. I haven't been ill since that bad time three years ago, and I don't have those bouts of sickness on the anniversaries, so I think you can afford to stop worrying, my dear Sam."

       Sam shuddered at the memory. "I never want to see you go through anything like that again! I couldn't bear it - I'd rather it happened to me."

       "Oh Sam.........." Frodo felt tears sting his eyes. "What did I do to deserve you? I really must be the luckiest being in Middle-earth."

       "I'm the lucky one, master mine." He gave his master a hug. "Now there's still some work to do but if you're tired you stay here and I'll......" He stopped as Frodo pressed a finger to his lips.

       "What did I say? I'm fine, and ready for whatever tasks you have in mind for me." He stood up and stretched.

       "Come on then, and I'll try and teach you why I love being a gardener." He made for the paddock and walked towards a very old oak tree. The trunk was old and gnarled, but it produced acorns a-plenty and the squirrels loved it. Sam had his own reasons for loving it.

       "Remember this tree, Frodo?" Frodo nodded, smiling at the memory.

       "I was up there, on that branch, reading a book the first day you came to Bag End with your father. He lifted you up to me and I read stories to you until you fell asleep. It has always been my favourite."

       "Have you ever really felt it though? Wrapped your arms around the trunk and felt the tree's heartbeat? All living things have a heartbeat, y'know."

       "Dear old Treebeard would be very upset if anyone thought otherwise, but no, I've never done that." Frodo stood beside the tree and rested one hand on the trunk. Then he stretched his arms wide and encircled the trunk as far as he was able.

       "That's it. Now just breathe deeply and allow yourself to really feel the tree, Hear it, feel the sap flowing inside it - that's the tree's blood, that is."

       Frodo allowed himself to be calm and quiet. He breathed deeply and closed his eyes. For a while he thought nothing was happening, and just as he was about to give up, he felt............. something. The life force of the tree, a pulsing essence flowing so strongly he was amazed he had never noticed before. It spread out through the bark, along the branches, into each individual leaf, a force so strong it could burst through stone and rock. He felt connected to the tree, and to all living things, and through them back to Sam. He flung his head back and laughed in pure joy, and Sam laughed too.

       "You feel it, don't you? Life flooding through the trunk?"

       "I can feel every living thing in the Shire, I think. Everything seems connected somehow."

       "Aye, it is. Reckon we'll make a gardener of you yet."

       "It was worth it, Sam. It was worth what we went through, to have saved all this." He gazed at the fields below, stretching as far as the eye could see, a patchwork quilt joined by lanes and hedges, all slumbering in the summer heat under a brilliant blue sky. In the distance a lark soared into the blue, and sang for the joy of living.

       "With you here and healed, yes it was worth it, m'dear. No hobbit could have more than I have right now and I wouldn't change my life with anyone - no, not to be the King of Gondor."

       "Nor I." Frodo smiled one of his dazzling smiles.

       "Not to mention that I wouldn't otherwise have had the chance to see you in that hat," murmured Sam impishly. "Quite a picture, that is."

       "Hmmmmm. Possibly. But is it a picture one would want on the wall, I wonder?" He chuckled. "Is there more to be done, or have we finished for the day, my Sam?"

       "Well, we could dead-head some roses and water the hanging baskets - but only if you're not too tired."

       "I've never felt better. All that life force from the tree seems to have strengthened me too. Let's go and do some more gardening. Do I pass muster as an gardener?"

       "Reckon you do and all. Come along then." He turned at the sound of hooves in the lane.

       "Well, well! Got yourself an apprentice, Sam?" enquired Merry, dismounting from Stybba.

       "Taken him away from those boring old books, eh?" Pippin bounded up to the gate, beaming.

       "You look happy. If your smile gets any wider your face will split in two!"

       "I have every reason to smile, my dear Frodo." Pip vaulted the gate.

       "Diamond! How is she? Is.............?

       "A boy, born yesterday morning. Fine little fellow, if rather noisy, and quite good-looking, if I do say so myself."

       Merry snorted loudly. "I think you'll find the good looks come from Diamond - and from the Brandybucks of course! You can hardly claim credit for those!"

       Everyone laughed and Pip found himself the centre of attention as he was congratulated heartily.

       "Is Diamond well?" Frodo asked as they settled in the kitchen and Sam poured ale for them all.

       "A bit tired, but yes, she's fine, and thrilled with the baby, especially as we lost the first one. Difficult to prise him away from her, even when she needs to sleep."

       "Have you decided on a name yet?"

       "He's going to be called Faramir. I asked Faramir if he'd have any objections to a hobbit being named after him, and he said he'd be honoured."

       "So he should be," murmured Sam. "Cheers, Pippin, and congratulations! You've joined the ranks of responsible parents at last!"

       "Don't know about that," chuckled Frodo. "He's scoffing cherry cake and swigging ale and behaving like the Pippin we all know and love." He applauded as Pip stood and bowed in response to this.

       "If Estella has a boy I think we're going to call him Theoden," added Merry. "We'll come back this way when Di is fit to travel back to Crickhollow - perhaps stay the night? Father wants our baby born at Brandy Hall, but Stell has at least six weeks to go yet, so we should have plenty of time to get back and settled. All these babies! Still, we have a long way to go to catch Sam, don't we?" He looked round. "Where's the lovely Rose?"

       "Down at the Cotton's farm with the children, having a little break. Told her to go and get a spot of rest." Sam topped up the tankards.

       Relaxed in each other's company, they discussed the various events and happenings in the Shire, updating each other on the gossip..

       "You'll love this one," Merry said, laughing. "Ted Sandyman got in a fight in a Bucklebury tavern, and was arrested by Robin Smallburrow!"

       "What! I'll bet Robin enjoyed that! What happened? I thought he was staying in Bree." Frodo could hardly speak for laughing at the very thought.

       "They threw him in the lock-up for the night for being drunk and disorderly! I think he regrets being so hasty in leaving - after all, he's lost everything. He gave up the mill and a life in the Shire, and he's no more popular in Bree than he was in Hobbiton. Silly bugger."

       "He's too stubborn to come back and knuckle down to life under the terrifying rule of Mayor Samwise!" Pippin giggled suddenly. "The yoke of tyranny is too terrible to cope with!"

       Frodo nodded. "Not to mention that he's a fearfully bossy employer - not sure I can see a career for myself in gardening." He twinkled at Sam over the rim of his tankard. "You should see the hat he expects me to wear!"

       "Just a hat?" Pippin's eyebrows were performing complicated gymnastics. "That will have the Hobbiton gossip mill running full tilt! Won't you get sunburn?"

       "Idiot!" said Frodo affectionately. "I've been learning how to communicate with trees."

       "Treebeard would be proud of you." Pippin helped himself to more cake.

       "That will come in useful if you ever want to venture into the Old Forest again, Fro."

       "I don't think so, thank you. Those trees don't want to communicate - they're too aggressive."

       Sam stood. "Shall I fix dinner?" Merry and Pippin shook their heads.

       "Not tonight - not for us anyway. This is a flying visit, although we'll come back in a day or two for a proper celebration. We promised Di we wouldn't be away too long."

       "Pip turning down one of your dinners, Sam. That is a first!" Frodo felt Pippin's brow for signs of fever.

       "Very funny. You've no idea how much it pains me to refuse, but I promised."

       On the way out to the garden Sam quickly cut some roses and gladioli and made them into a bouquet.

       "Here. Give these to Diamond with our love and congratulations. It's wonderful news."

       Frodo and Sam stood at the gate and watched the two ride away, waving until they were out of sight. Then they returned to the kitchen to prepare dinner. Rufus sat under the kitchen table in order to catch any tasty titbits which might fall, and both hobbits made sure a few did. Sam watered the baskets round the door, and Frodo tidied the kitchen before wanderiing through to watch Sam from the doorway. He grabbed another watering can and watered the baskets on the other side of the smial, singing along with Sam. Then they cleaned the tools and returned them to the shed, and swept the path before going inside to eat. Sam felt it had been one of those perfect days which come unlooked for and are remembered forever, full of simple pleasures and peaceful joy. Some people might wish for riches and power, but for Samwise Gamgee, master gardener, Mayor of Michel Delving, friend of kings, a day spent in a Shire garden with his beloved master was the best thing he could think of.

                                                      ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*