1401

"Hello, anybody home?"

Sam hurried through to the front door and pulled it open.

"Mr Frodo? Didn't expect to see you here, today of all days. Many happy returns!"

"Thank you." Frodo grinned. "I just stopped by to give you your present, then I have to get ready."

"You shouldn't have -"

"It's my birthday and I'll do as I like. Anyway, it's nothing much, it just seemed something you'd appreciate."

Sam unwrapped the small cloth parcel Frodo had put in his hands. It was a knife, fork and spoon set, with leaves etched into the handles, and a small painted spinning-top.

"That's because I'm too old for toys like that now, I have to be wise and serious from today on." Frodo's eyes crinkled up, showing a few tiny laugh lines at the corners.

"It's very kind of you." Sam ran his fingers over the little gifts happily. "But I have to get back to cooking, I've only just started on the stew and me Gaffer and sisters get home soon."

"Just started? The party begins soon, you'll be late!"

"Not to worry, I wasn't invited."

"What..." Frodo's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Of course not! Parties aren't even half as fun without the sneaking in. Why, if it wasn't my own and Bilbo's I'd try and not be invited myself, just so I could creep about without permission. I never meant for you to think you weren't welcome, Sam."

"Oh..." Sam furrowed his brow. "No, it wouldn't be right, it would be disrespectful. Thankyou for my present, and have a nice time."

Frodo snorted. "Perhaps I'm not the one too old for play after all." He pushed Sam down towards the kitchen. "Come on, I'll help, and then you'll be ready faster."

There were several potatoes waiting for peeling on the table. Frodo picked one up and flicked a knife along the skin deftly, pulling a long scroll off the white flesh underneath. Sam felt a blush warming his cheeks. Everything was going topsy-turvy, it was Frodo's birthday and here he was helping Sam make stew and inviting - sort of inviting, at any rate - him to the party tonight.

"Rosie won't miss a dance and a drink," Frodo said slyly. "She's probably fixing ringlets in her hair and knotting a ribbon at her throat right now. A lass of seventeen's not going to want to spend time with all Bilbo's ancient friends, and I fear my evening will be spent fending off suggestions that it's time I married. You have to come so she's got somebody to dance with."

"Do you fancy Rose? As a wife, I mean."

Frodo had to bite his lip, because Sam might think it was laughter at him and take offence.

"I think she has her sights set elsewhere. And I'd infuriate her before a week was out, I'm not very easy to spend time with."

"Yes you are!" Sam cut in. "I mean, if you were willing to wait until she's grown, Rosie'd be lucky to have you."

"I think you're giving me more credit than is due, but thanks all the same," said Frodo. "Your Rosie might object to hearing you pair her off, though."

"She ain't anybody's Rosie but her own, especially not mine." Sam shook his head.

"But you'd like her to be, wouldn't you?" Frodo pressed. Sam didn't answer. "Then come to the party and spend time with her. You can give her the bangle I bought her for my birthday, if you like."

"I still don't know if I should come at all..." Sam trailed off meekly at seeing Frodo's droll expression.

"Yes. You should. Go wash your face and brush your hair and we'll walk down together. Hurry up!"

It wasn't quite dusk, the light hazy from an earlier drizzle, softening the lantern lights on the party field into a flickering blur. Everyone they met on the road stopped to wish Frodo a happy birthday, clap him on the back and joke about having to be grown-up and sensible. Sam smiled despite himself, because for all Frodo's excellent qualities he was never going to be a properly sensible sort of hobbit. He'd need somebody like Sam around, to remind him of things like eating and sleep.

A little boy, plainly up to no good whatsoever from his cheeky smile, was being piggybacked along by a slightly older and equally mischievous looking friend.

"Merry, look, here's Frodo now!" the younger lad called, pointing. "You haven't given me a present yet, Frodo!"

"I will, Pippin, later. The wait won't do you any harm," Frodo teased back. "Merry, don't carry him like that, he's far too big."

"Am not!" Pippin retorted, wrapping his arms around Merry's neck tightly.

"Argh, Pip, don't, I can't breathe... I was starting to wonder if you were ever going to get here, Frodo. We were on an expedition to come find you."

"Well, I'm found. I can tell you two are up to something, you're never this cheerful unless there's half a dozen flustered aunts waiting to give you a thick ear."

"That's not always true." Pippin sniffed haughtily.

"Yes it is," Merry reminded him. "Come on, Frodo, come say hello to everyone. Fatty's already upset the custard everywhere."

Frodo turned to Sam, who'd hung back through the short conversation.

"Here, give this to Rose. And have a good time!" pressing a small silver bracelet into Sam's palm, Frodo ran off with his cousins.

Sam cast one last glance back towards Bagshot Row, to the oven-warm kitchen where his family would be sitting down to dinner. Then he looked down at the bangle in his hand, and remembered how much he liked to watch Rosie dance, and set off down the road towards the celebration.

~

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