AN: Argh! I started this story two years ago, and then I hit a massive block with it, so I sort of gave up on it. But then I got a review the other night begging me to continue, so continue I will! This is going by chapter updates, I haven't got the story finished, and I'm tackling it one chapter at a time. So if it's another year 'til I update, don't hate me! (But if you don't want to wait a year, make sure you leave a review and badger me to keep going!)

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters and setting, only the messed up plot. I mean no harm on the Gaffer, I'm sure he's a lovely fellow in real life.

Frodo neatly dropped his knife and fork onto the empty plate. Sam noted with surprise that his master had finished his meal. He neatly stacked his and Frodo's plates together before Frodo waved his hand dismissively and told him to sit.

"Another delicious meal, Sam. If I didn't know better I'd say you were trying to fatten me up!"

Sam looked indignant, shocked slightly at the presumption.

"Sir, I would never-"

"Sam, relax. I was just joking with you." Sam smiled sheepishly. Frodo had noted that Sam had seemed sadder of late. Within good reason as well. Two days before Bell's anniversary Sam had come running into his study, clutching a letter and fearing the worse. His fears were proved to be wrong as his letter spoke of Marigold's recovery and that Hamfast would be staying a little longer to spend more time with the family. Frodo remembered his blood pounding with anger as he read the note. Hamfast was excluding Samwise from the family, knowing what he had reduced Samwise to.

He looked out of the parlour window and saw that the Astron sun was setting. It was time.

"Samwise, all of that food has left me feeling a little bloated. What say we go on a little walk?"

"I've no objection to that, sir. I'll just wash these dishes and keep the fires stoked and we'll be off."

"The dishes can wait, Sam and it's a warm enough night! Come on lad, fetch your jacket."

"Very well, Mr. Frodo" Sam nodded before dashing out to fetch their coats.

"Lovely night, isn't it Sam?" Frodo looked sideways at Sam who was lost in his own World. He looked up startled and then around at their surroundings.

"Aye, sir. Not a chill in sight." He stopped suddenly, still looking around. "Goodness me, sir, are we ion Bywater already?"

"We are, Sam, though I hardly think you've noticed where your feet were leading you. You were away with the Elves!"

Sam blushed and looked away.

Frodo stopped and pointed at the Green Dragon, not ten feet away as if he'd seen it for the first time.

"I'm parched, Samwise. Let's stop for an ale before heading back."

Sam actually seemed to perk up, and looked as if he was considering something. What was running through his head was that the Cottons' were regulars of the 'Dragon, and he'd dearly love to see them all again and have a good natter.

"As you wish, sir!" He said brightly and led the way.

As the two hobbits approached, Sam noticed that the Inn seemed unusually quiet. He held the door open for Frodo, but his friend simply motioned for him to go first, a mischievous grin on his fair face.

Sam stepped forward and was greeted by a rapturous burst of noise. Cheers and whistles sprang forth from the group of hobbits gathered. Young Peregrin Took dashed forward and wrapped himself around Sam's legs. He looked at Frodo who had slipped in behind him with bewilderment.

"You didn't think we'd forget your birthday, did you?"

Bilbo, Merry and Jolly Cotton stepped forward and threw streamers over Sam. He looked around at the crowd of familiar faces and found a warm, happy smile spreading across his face.

Although there were no restrictions on how old a Hobbit must be to drink, most Hobbits denied their children any ale, unless it was a special occasion. (And Hobbits celebrated anything that could possibly warrant a drink.)

And so Sam found himself being herded towards the bar, where a shapely lass had her back to him.

"Maiden!" Frodo cried, wearing a playful grin on his face. "Oh, sweet maiden of the ale! My gardener is wilting. Will you not water him and smile your warm sunshine from your bonny face?"

Sam's jaw dropped as the barmaid turned around. Frodo turned to Merry and the pair chuckled quietly, but Sam did not hear.

"Ro…" Sam stopped himself. This woman standing afore him was certainly not the plain, boyish girl that he had spent so many years of his childhood with. Here was a tall, curvy lass with shiny, blonde curls and ruddy cheeks, the very definition of beautiful. Her blue eyes gleamed and sparkled as she smiled at him, a smile that was indeed like warm, golden sunshine. Was this really the girl he grew up with? "Miss Cotton!" She put her hands on her hips and pouted innocently.

"Now, whatever happened to Little Rose, I wonder? I en't changed, you know!" She laughed lightly, and Sam found his eyes travelling up and down her body, choosing to favour her hips and breasts.

"Begging your pardon Miss, but so you have!"

This sent Merry further into a fit of laughter, but Frodo managed to control himself and jump to Sam's rescue.

"This is a party is it not?" He turned to Sam and Merry, who had managed to stop laughing and cheer loudly. "Come on Sam! There's more folk for you to meet! Could you bring the ale to our table when you're ready, Rosie!" And Sam was herded away from the bar.

A few hours later and the party was still in full swing. Bilbo had taken Pippin home after the little lad had had some ale and fell asleep on the bar. Frodo was sitting in between Sam and Merry, and smiled as he watched Sam reminisce with Jolly Cotton over their childhood. He seemed happier and more radiant than he had in years, even when Jolly offered his condolences over Bell's anniversary the previous week. Sam just thanked him, and smiled in memory of her.

But despite Sam's improved demeanour, something worried Frodo. Ever since the encounter at the bar, he caught Sam glancing at Rosie here and there, with a look of wonder and lust on his face. But almost suddenly he would blush furiously, though no one was looking, and look away with an expression of great sadness and despondency.

As Frodo was reflecting upon this, he caught Sam glancing towards Rosie once more, and repeated this behaviour.

"Why don't you talk to her?" Frodo offered, as Sam looked back sharply, a full blush on his face.

"Oh no, Mr. Frodo. I couldn't!" Sam wrapped his hands around his mug, trying desperately to hide from the three pairs of eyes that regarded him with amusement.

"Why ever not?"

"I don't want to bother her when she's working."

"Sam, this whole night is for you!" Frodo sought to regain eye contact, but failed in his quest.

"Aye, why my sister en't spoken a word about anything other than this party since she first heard about it. She's been looking forward to seeing our Sam again." Jolly spoke up, clapping Sam friendly on his back.

"All the same, it's not my place to go badgering her." Sam gave a friendly nod to Jolly, who looked utterly bemused.

"Badgering? Why, she en't going to think badly of you for talking to her! She's sweet on you, and no mistake. Aren't you interested in our Rose, then? Too plain?" Jolly was only playing with Sam, teasing him as he used to when he was a younger boy, but Sam looked aghast.

"No! Not at all! She's the most beautiful girl I ever seen!" He looked back at her; she was busying herself behind the bar trying to serve as many Hobbits as quickly as she could. His heart ached with longing. "Pretty lass like that deserves better than a lowly, good-for-nothing gardener."

Frodo was taking a swig of ale at this point and he set his mug down on the table a little louder than he meant to, which made Sam and Jolly next to him jump.

"I do wish you would get your job out of your head. It doesn't make any difference to those that know you. You're a fine, respected young Hobbit around these parts!" To this Jolly raised his mug and cheered loudly, but Sam blushed and looked down.

"All the same," he repeated. "I'm not worthy of her." Merry chose this moment to speak up, having previously sat besides Frodo listening intently.

"Now where would you get an idea like that?" he enquired. Sam said nothing and downed the remaining dregs of his ale.

"Hamfast, you old devil! I thought you wouldn't show!" A Hobbit's voice carried over the crowd.

"I reckon you're right proud of our Sam, eh?" Another voice cried, most like old Farmer Cotton. "Twenty years old today, and what a head on his shoulders!"

Sam nearly fell backwards as he rushed to stand up. Frodo scanned the crowded and he spotted the old Gaffer, wearing a fake smile as he greeted the Hobbits. As urgently as he could, Sam politely forced his way through the crowd of Hobbits, muttering a "Sorry!" and an "Excuse me!" here and there. When he reached his father, he made a funny little bowing gesture, lowering his head down.

"Sir! Begging your pardon, I didn't know you were coming home tonight!" He spoke hurriedly, his breath hitching from his sudden exertion. Hamfast still smiled his fake smile at his son, maintaining an air of civility.

"Well, I thought I'd outstayed my welcome up in Tighfield, and fancied the idea of coming home and spending the evening with my son, on his birthday no less."

Frodo, who had made his way through the crowd to join them scowled slight. He wouldn't be surprised if Hamfast had forgotten that it was Sam's birthday today.

"I must say, Samwise," Hamfast continued, "I was surprised to find the hole empty and dark. I wasn't expecting to traipse over to Bywater, and after a long and tiring journey as well. Why, did you ever think I might have had bad news to carry, that your sister had taken a turn for the worse?"

Sam gasped and his face paled. Only Frodo and the Gaffer saw that he swayed on his feet s the horrible image swam through his mind. The other Hobbits had lost interest and had gone back to having a good time.

"Don't worry yourself, she's fine, but here's you, drinking and singing like you've nary a care in the world!"

Frodo's scowl grew. How could this man toy with his son like that? How could he let him believe his sister had gone to join his mother, leaving him even more alone with this monster standing before him? He swallowed down his thoughts and wore a neutral expression as he stepped forward.

"The party was our idea, Mr. Gamgee, and I'm afraid we dragged Sam here against his will. He's a very popular Hobbit as you can see, and many here have not seen him for some time. They all came together to see him into his tweenage years. Is that not cause for celebration?" Sam was tugging on Frodo's sleeve, unseen by the Gaffer, silently urging him to be quiet.

"Maybe it is among you Higher folk, sir but a quiet life's enough for Sam and I. Come along now, Samwise, that's enough excitement for one night!" Sam nodded and went off to fetch his coat. "I'll thank you for looking out for my boy, unnecessary though it was, and beg your pardon for seeming rude and stealing the 'centre of attention' back home." Hamfast spoke civilly enough, though his voice betrayed him as the words 'centre of attention' dripped with sarcasm and resentment.

"Why don't you join us, Hamfast? You must be thirsty after your journey."

"Aye that, and tired too. No, it's home for us sir!" Sam returned with his coat folded over his arm. "Ready for an early start on the morrow. Say your goodnights, Sam."

"But it's his birthday! Let him stay and talk to his friends!" The Gaffer's eyes blazed with anger, but he managed to hide it so quickly and well. Sam looked frightened, and pleaded silently with Frodo to say no more.

"I'll thank you not to tell me what to do with my son, Master Baggins. I think he's had quite enough for one night." Hamfast turned away, but Frodo stood, bristling with anger.

"You can't treat him like this, it's wrong!" His shout came out, louder than he had intended and caught the attention of the Hobbits around them. Hamfast turned around slowly, and spoke slowly, quite offended.

"Excuse me?"

"Frodo!" Sam's voice was strained, and his eyes wide, as he tried to resolve the situation. "Mr. Frodo, you oughtn't to have done this, but I thank you for it. I'm sorry to leave but there's nought for it. It's late and the Gaffer's right, I've an early start. Goodnight Mr. Frodo!"

Frodo stood stock still, unable to move as he watched the Gaffer and Sam walk away. He felt torn but there was nothing he could do. He didn't want to leave things like that, but it seemed he had no choice.

As the father and son passed a Hobbit, concentrating hard on his pipe, the Gaffer hissed an administration to his son.

"Look at you, scum! Associating with all these fine folk and you a gardener? I warned you about getting ideas above your station! Who do you think you are? The Thain? And what ideas have you been putting in your master's head? 'You can't treat him like this!' Treat him like what? I ask you! I'll have your hide, so I will! Work on the morrow? You won't be able to move for a month!"

As they left, the pre-occupied Hobbit lit up his pipe, and looked deeply troubled. He headed over to Frodo, still standing in the centre of the inn.

"I'll have your hide so I will!" Merry said calmly, waiting for a reaction.

"What? Merry, what are you-?" The Brandbybuck folded his arms and glared at his older cousin.

"Ever since I saw Sam around his father, I've noticed something was off, not quite right. I've seen you, cousin, seen you chewing your nails with worry when Sam is late in the morning, I've seen you watching him at work in the garden, watching him with concern as if he were going to break. I've seen Sam shrink under his father's gaze. I've seen many things that to most would be hidden. And now I've heard the old man seemingly threatening Sam."

Frodo looked up, horrified.

"What did he say?"

"I'll have your hide so I will, you won't move for a month!"

Frodo fell into the nearest chair, rubbing his forehead in circular motions.

"What do you think he means by that? Certainly more than the same idle threat my own father has promised me with. You better tell me everything, dear cousin!"