“Sam, I’d like to speak with you for a moment.”

Samwise Gamgee took a deep breath before turning to speak to his master.

“Yes, sir.  I’ll just be fetching you your evening tea first, sir,” he said, and hurried down the hall to collect his thoughts before his master could respond.

He knew he would get in trouble.  Mr. Frodo couldn’t exactly let this go, now could he?  Still, he was dreading the scolding that he knew was coming. He had prepared himself, had gone over all the reasons that it had to be done.  An angry Frodo was better than a dead one, Mr. Merry had said.  Sam knew he was right.  But still, he wasn’t exactly going to rush back to his master’s room.

 He had only been working in his master’s best interest, though.  And it weren’t like he were telling Mr. Frodo’s private life to complete strangers…just two of his cousins and one of his friends.

He entered the kitchen and put a kettle on to boil, and then put his forehead against the cool wall.  He realized that he was shaking.  He knew that Mr. Frodo would never yell or threaten him, but the disappointed words and hurt voice was enough to quell even a Man, let alone a young gardener.

“I gather Frodo wants to have a little chat?”

Sam jumped about a foot.  He turned and saw Meriadoc Brandybuck sitting at the table, looking expectantly at him as he nursed his ale.  Sam had been too preoccupied with his own thoughts to notice.

“I told him I would get him some tea first,” Sam said, sitting across from his fellow conspirator.

“You know that putting it off won’t help,” said Merry.  “He’s going to say his piece, even if he has to tie you down to say it.”

“I know that sir, I’m just thinking that maybe having a bit of food around will distract him.”

“Yes, and if nothing else, the tea will help his voice,” said Merry with a wicked grin.  “All that lecturing is very hard on the throat, you know.”

“I don’t see what you’re smiling about, sir.  You’re turn’s coming soon enough.”

Merry grimaced.   “I am perfectly aware of that, Master Gamgee, although I would like to thank you for reminding me.  I am simply having an ale and planning my strategy.”

“Any good plans come to mind?”

“Well, short of throwing a pillow at him and running, no.”

Sam grinned, and enjoyed a few minutes of companionable silence.  The fire popped quietly behind him, and Merry returned his attention to his ale.  If only things could just stay like this for about a year or so Sam thought.  Then I might be just about ready for those disappointed eyes.  He slumped back in his chair.

“It doesn’t seem as though I can trust anyone.”

Sam felt tears brim up as he remembered those words.  He knew his master was the best and most smartest hobbit in the shire, and he had always felt honoured to serve him.  But to have done something, anything, to have ruined his master’s trust in him was more than he could bear.  Maybe talking to Mr. Frodo was going to do him good after all.  As if cueing him on the right response, the kettle’s high-pitched hiss filled the kitchen.

“I don’t think that I can avoid it much longer,” he said.

Merry stretched his arms behind his head.  “No, probably not.  I would suggest grabbing the kettle before a hole is burnt into the bottom, though.”

Sam stood and grabbed the kettle.  He placed it on a tray along with a cup, a saucer, a bowl of honey, some napkins, and a plate.  Then he looked around the kitchen for some food to bring. Cheese? No, Mr. Frodo wasn’t overly fond of that.  Bread and butter?  Again, no, he wanted something especially appetizing.  He looked to Mr. Merry for help.

“I baked a batch of blueberry scones earlier. I knew Frodo would need something to calm him. They’re in the pantry.”

Sam nodded his thanks and placed five on the tray. Then, with a last look at Mr. Merry (who gave him a sympathetic smile), he turned and walked down the hallway.

Sam paused for a moment outside his master’s room. 

I was helping him.  I was helping him.  I was helping him…he thought to himself as he backed into the room.

Frodo was sitting in a chair by the window.  He was staring outside, and had a thoughtful look on his face.  Sam was certain he was planning what he wanted to say.  He looked up as Sam crossed the room, but remained silent.

“I’ve got your tea, sir. All nice and hot, it is.  Oh, and I found some of that strawberry honey that I know you’re so fond of. That’ll go down right nice, I’m sure, sir,” Sam prattled as he poured his master’s tea and spooned in the perfect amount of the famed honey. He handed it to the silent Mr. Frodo.

“And you’ll never guess what else I found—scones, sir!  Not just any scones, neither.  They’re blueberry scones, Mr. Frodo. You know, them’s that your favourite.  Mr. Merry baked them special this afternoon just for you! Isn’t that thoughtful?  I sure think it’s thoughtful.  It’s wonderful when people are thoughtful, sir. I remember once, when I was a lad, Daisy found some lovely flowers and surprised me by putting them on my bed.  Weren’t even her birthday or nothing, neither.  Wasn’t that kind?  I sure think it is.  Well, you have your tea now, sir, and you know where I am if you need anything. We’ve got an early start tomorrow, so I’ll just be going to bed now, sir, if that’s all right with you. All right? All right.  Good night, sir, and don’t stay up too late.”

Sam bowed and made a beeline for the door.  The door was three feet away, two feet away, his hand was reaching out-

“Sam,” said a quiet voice behind him.

He stopped in his tracks and tried not to let his shoulders slump to much.  It would have been too easy, and he knew it.  But the day had been so long, what with the Black Riders and the ferry and Farmer Maggot and the ferry and the mushrooms and the ferry and the unmasking and the ferry.    But there was no running now.  Unless he could reach that pillow…

“Sam, I told you that I wished to speak to you.”

Sam feigned surprise. 

“Oh, Lor bless me sir, but I plumb forgot!  Now what did you want to talk about?  I’ve got the packs all ready to go, so you needn’t worry, sir.  The ponies are ready also, and I’ve got a wonderful breakfast planned to start us off.  Oh, and Master Pippin… found a… a wonderful way…”  He trailed off under his master’s steady gaze.  “To coil the rope, sir,” he finished lamely.

“Samwise, this conversation will already be unpleasant enough for the both of us, I am sure.  So please, drop the act and pull up a chair.  You’ll be here a while.”

“Yes, sir,” said Sam dejectedly. He grabbed a footstool from near the fireplace.  Before he sat down, he grabbed is master’s lap robe and placed it over him.

“Thank you,” said Frodo.  “And now I want to know how long you have been spying on me, what you found out, how you did it, and most importantly, why.”

Sam ducked his head and squirmed a little.

Frodo leaned in and lowered his voice.  “Sam, I know you were trying to protect me, and I thank you for that.  But if I’ve had someone reporting my every move, I want to know about it.”

Sam raised his head, but kept his eyes on the ground.  “Mr. Merry came to me shortly after Mr. Bilbo left, sir,” he said softly.  “He said that he was that worried about you, and I couldn’t blame him. I was worried, too.  We just wanted to make sure that you didn’t take off after him by yourself, sir.”

Frodo nodded.  “So you have been busy for quite some time then.”

“Yes, sir.  At first it was just little things he wanted to know: your mood, if you had been acting different, if you had been going over your maps more than usual.  But then we realized that we had to be more thorough.  I started…” Sam stopped here.  His master already knew about his eavesdropping with Glorfindel and Gandalf, but how was he to explain that he had been listening to his master’s private conversation for years?

Frodo looked at him expectantly, sipping his tea.  “What were you going to say, Sam?”  he asked coolly.

“I…er…I started…you see, I…eavesdropped, sir.” Sam hoped Mr. Frodo hadn’t heard his rather loud gulp.

Mr. Frodo raised his eyebrows.

“I’m sorry, sir, truly!  I just wanted to make sure you were all right!  And it ain’t like I didn’t suffer!  I had to listen to Mrs. Strawbottom tell the story about her corns twice!  And that’s nothing compared to what Daddy Twofoot had to say about-“

“Yes, yes, well, no need to bring that up again,” said Frodo, putting down his tea rather suddenly.  “I still need to know what you found out, besides Daddy Twofoot’s…er…condition.”

“Well, I learned that Mistress Lobelia is as bad to her relatives as she is to their servants, and that Mr. Folco didn’t know how to read until he was in his tweens.  And I learned that Mr. Bilbo was allergic to cats, you don’t like sunflowers because you got lost in a field when you were just a tot, and that Mr. Merry had horrible acne for years.”

Frodo gave a strangled “cough” into his napkin. “Mr. Merry said that you had provided quite a bit of information about me.  What did you say?”

“Well….er….I told them when you had trouble sleeping, or when you started to look sadder than usual.  I kept them up to date on your health, and let them know if you were going long periods of time without visitors.”

“So that’s how they always know to show up when things get quiet.”

“Yes, sir.  I pretty much kept them up to date on your life: who you’d seen, what you did, how I thought you looked.”

Frodo nodded, as if taking this all in.

“I see.”

Sam ducked his head again as an uncomfortable silence filled the room.  “You’ll be here awhile….” Sam shivered a little bit, not wanting to know how long “awhile” would be.

“Are you cold, Samwise?”  Sam looked up to see Frodo watching him concernedly.

“A bit, sir,” Sam admitted.

Frodo pulled out the lap robe and wrapped Sam in it, managing to keep himself covered at the same time.  He looked at his gardener for a few moments before speaking.

“Sam, I’m not mad,” he said. 

Sam’s head shot up, looking overjoyed.

“.. just disappointed.”

Ouch.  It would have been better if he were yelling and cursing instead of using that soft, hurt voice. Even expecting it didn’t make it easier to take.

“Sam, you are not only my servant.  You are also one of my very good friends, and I have always trusted you.  Surely you can understand why I am upset over this.”

A tear slid out of Sam’s eye and landed on the floor.  He didn’t know what to say.  He had always considered himself to be Frodo’s friend, as well, and had never meant to hurt him. He just hadn’t wanted to see his master get hurt.

“If you see a problem, then you must speak to me about it.  We have a very tough journey ahead of us, and I need to be sure that you will talk to me if need be.  This has me deeply concerned. If we are to come out of this alive, we need to communicate.  Do you understand?”

He nodded. There was a moment’s silence, and then two strong fingers were lifting his chin up.  He hesitated, and then looked into his master’s eyes.

Frodo was crying as well. 

None of the gaffer’s hard names were enough for this.  He could feel his own tears washing his cheeks.  They looked for a moment, and then Sam broke the silence.

“Master, I’m sorry,” he said in a choking voice.  “I didn’t mean to hurt you none.  I just wanted to make sure you were safe.  And if I had asked you, would you have told the truth?  Begging your pardon, Master, but it seemed like the best way to do it.”

Frodo was quiet for a moment, and Sam held his breath.  Slowly, Frodo nodded.

“My dear Sam, I know you would never do anything to hurt me,” he said softly, rubbing the back of Sam’s neck affectionately.  Sam dropped his eyes again, afraid to meet that penetrating blue gaze.

“I wouldn’t never, sir,” he whispered. 

“Then you understand why if you have any questions or concerns at all, you must speak to me immediately.”

“Yes, Master….” Sam trailed off.  There was one more question he was dying to ask, but he had to build up his courage.  Supposing his master was angered over it?

“What is it, Sam?” Frodo asked.

Sam took a deep breath. It was now or never.  “Sir, what you said earlier, about not being able to trust nobody, did you really mean it?”

Frodo was quiet for a moment.  “I was very angry when I said that Sam.  However, it would take a great deal more than this for me to ever truly quit trusting you.  I’m sorry that I spoke without thinking.”

“No, Master, if anyone should be sorry, it’s me!  But it is good to know you know that you can trust your Sam.”

Frodo smiled.  “I don’t think that I shall ever doubt that again, lad.  Now go and get Mr. Merry; I think it’s time I had a little talk with him.”