Summary: Why did the oldest of Gaffer Gamgee’s sons join his uncle the roper, rather than his father the gardener? What is Hamson’s story?

Disclaimer: I don’t own Tolkien’s stuff.

A/N: At the beginning of this story, the year is 1390 (Shire Reckoning). Hamson is twenty-five, Halfred is twenty-one, Daisy is eighteen, May is fourteen, Sam is ten, and Marigold is seven.
Consider them all slightly younger, though, because hobbits age differently from men.

Hamson’s POV

People might have thought I was just being a good son, weedin’ the garden as I was. But they would have failed to notice that I was only pickin’ the dandelions. They were for my Dandelion. Dandelion Boffin was the sweetest, prettiest hobbit in all the Shire.

When I had gotten enough, and arranged ‘em all pretty like, I washed up and started walking over towards her family’s smial. As soon as I rapped on the door, she answered, accepting the weeds with a shy smile, tossin’ her light brown curls just a bit.

“Wouldn’t you like to come in for a cup of tea?” she asked.

I had already had tea back home, but that didn’t stop me from accepting, as any proper hobbit lad would. She led me into her kitchen, which was fairly simple except for several clay bowls and vases painted in bright colors. Some held fruit, others held flowers, and one even held the scones for tea.

A couple of scones and several cups of tea later, Mr. Boffin came out from his workroom into the kitchen.

I rose. “Good afternoon, Mr. Boffin,” I said somewhat nervously.

Dandelion’s father was a rather self-important hobbit. Although he was just a commoner and not a gentlehobbit, he looked down on us Gamgees because my Gaffer was “only” a gardener. He said gardeners were just servants. He considered himself a step up because he was a crafthobbit.

To be exact, he was the best potter in our Farthing (which explained all the bowls and vases in the kitchen). They say he even made the pots for the kitchens of the Great Smials in Tookland. He didn’t look too fondly on me courtin’ his daughter.

Mr. Boffin gave me only the slightest of nods before turnin’ to his daughter.

“Dandelion, you mustn’t court seriously until you’re at least twenty-seven. This stage in your life is meant for seeing many different hobbits, so you can determine what you want in a husband.”

I don’t think he really minded her seein’ lads at twenty-four; he just wanted her to see a different kind of lad.

“Yes, father.” Dandelion answered, lowering her pretty brown eyes for half a second. She always was a respectful lass.

“Now you had better send Hamson on his way and start making dinner. Your mother will be home from her cousin’s house in about an hour.”

“Well, I suppose I’ll see you both later. I had best be getting’ to my own house for supper.” I said, and began walking home.