23. A Bump in the Road

May 4, 1392

“Time for luncheon, lads!” called Farmer Cotton cheerfully.

Halfred dropped his side of the plough right away and ran light-heartedly in the direction of the farm house.

“Come on, Ham!” the younger Gamgee shouted over his shoulder. “Mistress Cotton said we’re having... ham today!” He chortled wildly at his own joke.

Hamson Gamgee shook his head in exasperation and straightened up, wiping the sweat out of his eyes. He and Halfred had been helping Farmer Cotton with the late spring planting all day – nearly every day this month, in fact – and Hamson had received more than ample opportunity to appreciate his brother’s jokes. But at present he couldn’t bring himself to begrudge Halfred his silliness; they had all been so morose while poor Mr. Frodo had been ill that it was simply good to hear laughter now.

“Hullo, Tom-lad!” Hamson greeted the Cotton’s eldest child as he came inside after washing.

“Hullo, Ham!” giggled young Tolman Cotton. “Guess what we’re having for luncheon?”

Hamson smiled grimly and reached out to grab the child. If he heard that ridiculous joke one more time...

“Hold on now,” Tom squealed as Hamson tickled him mercilessly. “Mam said-” he gasped for breath “-she said you weren’t ta get me excited-” Tom’s next words were drowned out in a fit of laughter, but eventually he got out, “-because it’ll upset my dig- my dig-”

“Your digestion?” Hamson finished helpfully, setting the child back on the ground. “Well, your mam is quite right. Ye oughtn’t to go about letting folks tickle you right before luncheon, certain sure,” the twenty-seven-year-old hobbit said sternly, making Tom giggle again.

Hamson smiled as he followed the little one into the kitchen. Tom was the same age as Samwise, and Hamson had many memories of the two lads playing together. They hadn’t seen much of each other this spring, unfortunately, as Sam was busy helping the Gaffer, and Tom was now learning the ways of the Cotton farm.

At the table, the eldest Gamgee lad took a seat between Rosie and Jolly Cotton, and across from Halfred. He greeted Mrs. Cotton politely and accepted his plate; sure enough, several thick slices of ham comprised the main course.

The assembled hobbits began to devour their luncheon in cheerful hobbit fashion, with little Nibs getting more food on his clothes than in his tiny mouth. Nick and Jolly weren’t much better, but Rosie applied herself to fork and spoon with a concentration amazing to behold in an eight-year-old.

“We finished with the ploughing right quick today,” Farmer Cotton said, reaching for the butter. “You lads are a mighty big help,” he added with a smile at the Gamgees. “In fact, I think I’d best be giving you both the afternoon off!”

“Oh! You don’t need ta do that, Mr. Cotton!” Hamson protested. Halfred nodded vigorously in agreement. Tolman and Lily Cotton were truly excellent hobbits, an industrious young couple in their early fifties; the hard-working Gamgee lads often felt they were treated far too indulgently by their employers.

The farmer waved off their good-natured protests. “Nonsense, lads! We’re well ahead o’ schedule.”

“Besides,” put in Lily with a smile. “It’s a fine day! And you can take Tom-lad with you. The poor child hasn’t seen Sam in weeks!”

Little Tom wriggled in delight at this prospect, and Hamson laughed. “I reckon we can arrange that, Ma’am,” the tweenager yielded finally.

Halfred’s eyes sparkled at the thought of an afternoon off, and Farmer Cotton grinned and lit his pipe. The little Cottons had finished their food and were clambering down from their chairs to play outside.

Mrs. Cotton smiled at Hamson. “We’ll all miss you when ye go to Tighfield, lad,” she said.

Hamson grinned and looked down.

Halfred’s expression abruptly soured. “That ain’t for another five or six months,” he said quietly, fiddling with his spoon.

“Well, well,” said Farmer Cotton briskly. “Any young lad would be pleased to be apprenticed to Andwise Roper of Tighfield, I should think. Roping’s a fine trade, and I don’t doubt you’ll do your Gaffer proud, Hamson.”

Lily smiled at Halfred sympathetically. Anyone could see the brothers were close, but that was the way of things in the Shire; some lads had to leave home to learn a trade, others didn’t. The farmer’s wife tactfully decided to change the subject.

“What news is there of young Mr. Baggins?” she asked. “Last we heard, he was gettin’ over a nasty bout of the carnelian fever.” Unlike the Gamgees, the Cottons generally had little contact with any gentlehobbits, and only Mrs. Cotton, who ran the family produce stand in town, had ever even seen Frodo.

“Mr. Frodo’s on the mend, but he had ta rest in bed all last week,” Halfred supplied, looking up from his spoon.

“Oh, the poor lad,” Lily said. “He must’ve been dreadfully bored!”

Hamson chuckled. “Aye, I reckon he would’ve been,” the tweenager put in, “except he’s been keeping busy trying to learn our Sam his letters!”

Tolman and Lily stared in surprise. “Good heavens!” Farmer Cotton exclaimed. “Well, I expect it hasn’t done no harm. Sam can’t have learned much in one week, anyway, and Mr. Frodo must be up and about again by now?”

“Aye,” said Halfred slowly. “He’s allowed ta play outside now, but he’s still a mite weak and tires out pretty fast.” Hamson and Halfred exchanged looks. They both thought privately that it was a fine idea to have someone in the family learn to read, but it was a commonly held prejudice among the poorer residents of the Shire (and many of the wealthier residents as well) that no good could come of teaching letters to hobbits who ‘had no business using them.’

Hamson sighed. He was delighted, of course, that Frodo would make a full recovery, but it was a pity that Sam’s lessons could not continue.

“Well,” said Lily briskly. “I’m glad ta hear that fever didn’t take any little ones in Hobbiton this time around. Dreadful business, just dreadful.”

Farmer Cotton grinned and motioned to the door with the stem of his pipe. “Now then, lads, grab little Tom on your way out and don’t waste another minute of this fine afternoon!”

Hamson and Halfred didn’t need to be told twice, and they were soon on their way, with young Tom Cotton in tow. The afternoon was indeed fine; the sky was blue as far as the eye could see, and the sun was shining brightly enough to make coats unnecessary. The Gamgees escorted Tom through town and out the other side; they were soon at the Hill, where they left Tom to find Sam in Bag End’s garden. Their errand accomplished, Hamson and Halfred decided to have a walk in the woods behind the Hill before going home, just in case their mother might find some chores for them to do before they had a chance to properly enjoy the beautiful day...

Gaffer Gamgee rubbed his aching knee and glanced over at his youngest son. They had just come back to work from luncheon, and Sam was toiling industriously in the vegetable garden. Hamfast stretched his throbbing joints and paused to admire the lovely day.

“Why don’t you take off early today, Sam-lad?” the Gaffer said suddenly, feeling a bit soft but wanting his son to have a chance to play.

“Really, Dad?” Sam asked, looking up from the taters.

“Aye,” Hamfast replied. “I can manage by meself this afternoon. Go on, then!”

Sam smiled and got to his feet, brushing the dirt from his trouser legs. “Can I see if Mr. Frodo wants to play, Dad?”

Hamfast clapped his son on the shoulder. “Now now, Sam-lad. You must mind your manners better than that. Don’t you be botherin’ Mr. Frodo unless he sends for ye, all right? Now run down and see if them Twofoot lads are anywhere about, eh?” The Gaffer’s tone was gruff, but he corrected Sam’s presumption as patiently as he did the child’s gardening skills.

“Yes, Dad,” Sam said a little reluctantly. He had seen a great deal of the master’s heir in the last fortnight, while Frodo recovered from his fever, so perhaps it was natural for Sam to get a little presumptuous about his claim on Frodo’s time.

Just then, young Tom Cotton came wandering up the path to Bag End.

“Hullo, Sam Gamgee!” Tom called.

Sam looked up in surprise, then smiled when he saw his friend. “Hullo, Tom Cotton!” He waved quickly to his Gaffer and ran off to join the other boy.

Hamfast smiled and watched the two children disappear back down the walkway. He was glad that Tom had appeared; he knew Sam preferred Tom’s company over the Twofoot boys. The Gaffer got back to work on the taters and was caught by surprise when the side door of Bag End opened a few minutes later.

“Master Bilbo!” the Gaffer exclaimed, seeing the old hobbit in the doorway.

“Good afternoon, Master Hamfast!” Bilbo said cheerfully. “Is Sam about? No? Well, I’d like a word with you, if I may.”

The Gaffer looked at his master in surprise, but laid his trowel down obligingly. Bilbo sat himself on the step in front of the door, and Hamfast waited expectantly.

“I wanted to thank you for letting Sam keep my lad company this last week,” Bilbo began. “I know you must have missed his help in the garden.”

“Don’t mention it, Master,” Hamfast said graciously. “We were glad ta help out in any way.” Indeed, the Gaffer was well aware of what a cheerful little presence his youngest son was; he felt gratified that Sam had done such a fine job of aiding the recovery of his master’s heir, as Bilbo had told him several times already.

“I know you agreed to let Frodo begin to teach Sam his letters while he recovered,” Bilbo went on, and he seemed to be treading carefully now.

“Aye,” the Gaffer said, suddenly a bit wary. It had seemed a harmless enough way to keep young Frodo occupied while he was bedridden, but Hamfast was suddenly sure that he wouldn’t like what his kind but eccentric master had to say next.

“Well, those lessons have of course stopped now that Frodo’s up and about, and I—I believe they should continue,” Bilbo said, watching his gardener carefully.

“Oh, but there isn’t no call for that, Master Bilbo!” Hamfast protested. “And I expect Mr. Frodo has more important things to do with his time now, beggin’ your pardon.”

“I have resumed Frodo’s lessons, Master Hamfast, so he does indeed have plenty to do,” Bilbo said quickly. “I would like to teach Sam myself, is what I meant.”

“You, sir!” The Gaffer stared in astonishment, and slowly shook his head. “Thankee indeed for your kindness, Master Bilbo, but I’m afraid it’s outta the question!”

“Hamfast, please consider it!” Bilbo implored. “From what Frodo has told me, the lad shows great promise, and I believe I could easily teach him to read and write, in good time. All it would take is two or three hours, in the mornings whenever you can spare him. I already have one pupil; it would be no trouble to have another.”

The Gaffer shifted uncomfortably, avoiding Bilbo’s gaze. “T’wouldn’t be proper, sir,” Hamfast muttered. “Cabbages and taters are what Sam needs ta learn, meanin’ no disrespect.”

Bilbo sighed. “I was afraid you would say that, and of course it is your decision.” The old hobbit got to his feet and turned to go back inside. “But if you ever change your mind, the offer stands.”

Hamfast nodded to show he’d heard, and tried to ignore the disappointed look Bilbo gave him just before he closed the door. The Gaffer picked up his trowel again and set to work on the taters. “T’wouldn’t be proper, no indeed,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head.