Work Text:
It was hot for late spring in the Shire. Sam was in his own garden, where the hill was finally shading the peonies, a pile of willow branches by his side. The grass was still warm from the height of the day, but the earth beneath was cool. With a small hammer, Sam drove in stakes with which to start weaving a willow fence to keep the peony blooms off the grass. Pausing to cut another stake, he heard the creak of the gate hinge behind him, and turned.
"Mister Frodo!" he cried, and broke into a wide smile.
Frodo let himself into the yard, and slowly closed the gate behind him. "Hello, Sam," he said, a smile blooming on his face.
Sam gestured him over, and stood to welcome him with a hug. Frodo's hug in return was warm, and so very gentle. When he moved back, Sam looked in his eyes. They were bloodshot, and the tired droop at the corners was back again.
Sam put their foreheads together, and peered at Frodo. "Did you sleep last night?"
Frodo shook his head, and closed his eyes briefly. "Not really."
The bad nights were further and further apart, but Sam knew he still had them. Sam hadn't had a bad one himself since Elanor was born, but he'd had his share before then.
"Sit down," Sam said, and took Frodo's hand, tugging him toward the grass alongside the peony bed. Frodo hesitated, but followed him.
"You've got things to do, Sam! Don't mind me," Frodo protested.
"I'll be the judge of that, thank you," Sam replied as he sat, legs extended, sidelong to the bed so that he could visit and garden at the same time. "Why'd you come over here, anyway, if you didn't want me to keep you company? Did you expect me to say, 'Oh, Mister Frodo, I'm a very busy man with a wife and daughter. I've no room for spending time with you, now, have I?'"
Frodo got that look, the one he did where he turned down the corners of his mouth and wrinkled his chin to hide the expression he'd rather be making. "Oh, Sam."
"You can 'Oh, Sam,' me while you make yourself comfortable. Come on," Sam said, and slapped his thigh. With a little eye roll, Frodo lowered himself and lay back in the grass. He rested his head on Sam's leg. His eyes were their most brilliant blue of reflected sky.
"Now, is that so bad?" Sam asked. With his knife, he carefully started to cut peony blossoms and strip the lower leaves.
"It's very nice, actually," Frodo allowed. He bent one knee and propped his other foot on it.
"I needed to thin these peonies anyway, they're bursting out of the bed, now. I should've divided 'em last fall. Here, hold these," Sam said, passing the ones he'd cut so far to Frodo. "We'll take 'em in to Rosie to put in water, unless she comes out here first."
Sam continued picking flowers, and Frodo holding them for him, until Rosie did come out, a plate in her hand. "I thought I heard you, Frodo! No no, don't get up. I'm bringing you some short cakes to eat, and I'll go put those peonies in water. I'll bring Elanor out when she's up from her nap." She ruffled Frodo's hair fondly and leaned in to kiss Sam's cheek. Then trading the plate smoothly for the bunch of flowers in his hands, she went back in the house.
Sam put his tools down. "Ah, y'see? She made some lavender ones, today. Good for your sleep. And your favorite rosemary ones!" He plucked a short cake from the plate with one hand, and brushed Frodo's hair back from his forehead gently while he nibbled at it.
"You're very lucky, Sam," Frodo said, fondly, looking up at him. They ate in silence, listening to the rustling of the flowers in the breeze and the sparrows squabbling on the road.
Before long they heard a squall, and then a giggle. Rosie came out again, with little Elanor on her hip. Elanor's eyes were still sleepy, and she peeked shyly at Frodo while she pressed her face against her mother's shoulder. The tiny girl's blond curls were a halo around her head.
"There's my girl!" Sam said gaily, and held his arms out to take her. "What're you being so shy for, you know your uncle Mister Frodo, come on!"
Elanor instead reached out a little hand toward Frodo. Rosie sat down on the grass, next to them, and Elanor scooted forward, reaching for Frodo with both hands now.
"I think she's missed you," Rosie said softly, as Elanor squirmed and slid her way over to give Frodo a hug where he lay on the ground. Sam quickly took the plate of short cakes from him as he reached out to put his arms around her and hug her back.
"Hello, little sun-star," he said quietly to her, as she rested her head on his chest. "Still sleepy, are we?" he added, as she lifted her thumb to her mouth. He patted her hair gently as she rested there, blinking.
"She'll be less so once she notices there are cakes," Sam said quietly, taking another one and passing the plate back to Rosie. He put one hand down to stroke Frodo's hair, and smiled contentedly at his wife.
They lay or sat in the grass, eating cakes, chatting contentedly about Sam's work and Rosie's baking and news of friends and family. Before long, Elanor perked up. She turned so that she could sit with her back against Frodo's side, his arm still around her, and begged a cake from her mother. With the cake held in one hand, she tugged and patted at Frodo's hand where it was around her, with the other. She put her little fingers around Frodo's larger one, the index finger which was missing a segment, and hugged it to herself, as she nibbled her short cake.
"She always grabs my short finger," Frodo noted, watching her.
"She knows it's different," Rosie said, "But as far as she's concerned, you've always been that way."
"Never going to make her look twice when you tamp your pipe with it," Sam joked.
"It's just right for tamping my pipe!" Frodo protested.
"Yes, but you do it to see who's going to look twice, when we're down at the pub," Sam said.
Frodo nodded. "That's true, I do."
"If you've got her, I'll get supper in the oven," Rosie said, getting up with the now-empty plate. "And you're staying for supper, Frodo, don't you try to get out of it." Elanor squealed and hugged his hand harder, when she said it.
Frodo sighed, but they all knew he wouldn't have protested much anyway. After leaning up to accept another peck on the cheek from Rosie, Sam settled back in, his best friend's head on his leg, his little girl on the grass next to them. It was hot for late spring in the Shire, and they might as well enjoy it together.