Sammie likes paper. Likes the smell of it, the texture of it. Sometimes, when he was small enough to fit on Frodo's lap comfortably, he'd sit and watch as paper and ink (he likes the smell of that, too, but not so much as paper) came together and trapped stories down like pinned butterflies.
Dozens and dozens of story books spill off the shelves in the bedroom he shares with Bilbo and Hamfast. Mummy Rose and Sam-dad and Uncle Frodo write them to order, so there are a lot of dark-haired princesses who bewitch princes with their beauty for Rose-girl, and faithful horses who carry heroes on long journeys for Merry. Worn-out, much-loved old copies of tales about little boys who kill orcs and little girls who meet Elves from when Frodo and Elanor were still small enough to demand themselves written into tales.
And family trees, too, there's a big sheaf of them shoved on a lower shelf. Hobbit children are expected to respect and know their lineage. Sammie likes to trace the lines with his fingers, they remind him of delicate cobwebs. He draws them upside-down from the usual way, so that the children are above the parents on each generation, stretching up in branches supported by where they've come from, rather than hanging down like roots buried under the past. He can't understand why anybody would design them like that in the first place, it seems utterly illogical to him.
The way his family tree overlaps and tangles at the top makes him happy, all laced together like a net that stops anybody tumbling down from such a height. Sometimes he sits with Daisy in their secret hiding spot down by the brook and engages in very earnest discussions on the subject; though these discussions always end with Daisy romping about and calling Sammie Old Mad Baggins. Daisy hopes her hair gets darker as she grows up, so that the two of them will match better, but it seems unlikely. Goldy and Elly are as fair as they ever were, and they're practically grown-up now.
Sammie doesn't know why he decided the line between the big children and the little ones is drawn between Goldy and Ham, since they're only a year apart, but Ham still likes to play with his small brothers and sisters, while Goldilocks would rather spend her time making sure she looks exactly her beautifullest, and helping Mummy Rose with the sewing and cooking. Sammie thinks that's a bit sad, because when he was little it was always Goldy who would teach him the names of the stars and flowers outside. He wishes there was no need for anybody to ever grow up; whenever he says that to any of the grown-ups they just laugh and ruffle his hair, as if there's a secret joke he won't understand until he's big.
They're a little band of mischief makers, the younger Gardner children. They have all sorts of wicked reputations with all the locals, especially when coupled with their cousins Meli and Molly. Robin and Tom are too little to be in trouble often, and really Ruby is too but she insists on tagging along whenever she can; sometimes she's the one who thinks of the funniest games to play. Like when they found Dan the cartwright asleep in his garden and covered him all up with hay, that was her idea.
"Thought I'd find you in here," Sam-dad says, leaning against the doorframe. "You shouldn't stay shut in so much, lad, you need more colour in your cheeks."
"Yes, Dad," Sammie answers dutifully. Sam smiles at him and the two of them walk down the hall together.
"Now, young Hope Grubb from over Frogmorton way is coming round this afternoon, and I want you lot out of the way while she's here so she can get her work done, you hear?"
"What's she doing?"
"Lass wants to gather all the history that folk remember and that they've got written down, and collect it into books for a library."
"Not our book, though, she's not going to take it?" Sammie looks very concerned.
"No, ninny, that's why she's coming here, to read it and copy out the important parts concerning hobbits," Sam explains, reaching into his pocket and drawing out a few bright new pennies. "I've given some to Ham already, and I would to Daisy if she'd ever stay still for half a breath. You're to take Primrose and Bilbo, and Ruby if she's in a mind to come with you, and go cause trouble somewhere else for the rest of the day."
Sammie nods, and jams the small fortune of money into his lefthand pocket. The right one has a tear in it, he hasn't told his mother yet because she always grumbles at him when he rips new clothes the first time. Says he's as bad as Pippin used to be, which Sammie finds difficult to believe. He and Daisy try and fix things themselves, sometimes, and Mummy never seems pleased with that either. Sammie isn't sure why, because brown pants look nice darned with blue wool.
Mum's got Tom in the bath, there are bubbles and splashes all over the place, she's pouring soap flakes over his head and he's shouting "Snow! Snow!" and kicking up big waves. Robin's very methodically dropping bright building blocks into the water one after the other, Mum hasn't noticed that yet. Sam goes to help her and Sammie runs off; he doesn't want to get stuck cleaning up sudsy babies, even very cute ones.
Uncle Frodo's in the study, with the big red book open infront of him. It's never smelt like ordinary paper, there used to be a little flower pressed between two pages. Elanor long ago claimed it to frame and hang in her bedroom, but a whisper of the scent still remains. The book smells like dusty sunshine; it makes Sammie think of lazy afternoons, even though there aren't many of those in the story itself at all. Uncle Frodo gives Sammie a few coins as well, coupled with a vague smile. The bounty of the day is almost enough to buy a sack of potatoes or a new set of glass cups, if Sammie had any interest in spending the money on such boring, ordinary things.
Hope Grubb arrives with her smaller sister, Delphinium, and Sammie decides he likes the look of them. They're related to the Baggins family in some close way or another, and that gives them wide cheeks and small chins and burbling laughs. Delphinium endears herself to Daisy instantly by pulling on Sammie's hair sharply and calling him a "queer little elf-boy, but fair enough, considering". Hope's hands are all stained with ink, and Sammie knows from nothing more than this that she's going to get along with Uncle Frodo very well.
"What're we going to do? What're we going to do?" Primrose asks in a sing-song, jumping around her older siblings and their visitor.
"We're going to sneak around under the window and listen to them talking about the adventures in the book," Bilbo says as if there's no argument about it.
"But why? I thought we could go for a walk, and buy some candy apples, and show Delphinium all the secret places to hide treasures in," Ruby scowls. "I hate the book. It's too scary, I like happy stories."
"Don't be silly, Ruby, the book's great fun. The stories you like are baby stories. Good idea, Bilbo." Ham, as the oldest, has declared himself the leader of the ragtag group.
"She's not silly, she's got more sense than you," Mummy Rose puts in, sneaking up behind the boy without his knowing, holding a mop under one arm and a sodden Tom under the other. Ham jumps in surprise.
"But Mum -"
"No buts. Your Dad told you to go out and out you'll go." Rosie brandishes the mop menacingly. "I'm not going to say it again," she warns, but the children can see her smile twitching in her cheeks, about to break free.
"All right, all right." Ham grumps. "C'mon everyone, we'll go outside."
"Sooks." Bilbo snipes at Ruby and Primrose as they file down the hall. "Only babies get scared by the book."
"Then why did you beg me not to put the candles out, after last time you crept in to listen to it?" Sammie shoots back at his younger brother. Bilbo scowls. Delphinium giggles.
They walk down to a little thicket of trees near the brook that has become their headquarters lately, there are lots of knotholes perfect for storing various mathoms and snacks in. Delphinium, as the guest, gets to choose the game.
"Tiggy," she promptly replies. "And Sammie's It."
"No, we have to choose who's up more fairly than that," Sammie protests, ignoring Bilbo and Ham's mutterings about baby games. "Prim, you count it out."
"All right." Primrose points at each of them in turn. "One for the mouse, one for the crow, one to rot, and one to grow. My mother said to pick just one and it is... you!" her finger comes to rest on Ruby, who turns and taps Bilbo's arm without missing a beat.
"You're It now!" she runs off before he can protest. Sammie pauses long enough to store the money in his pocket away carefully under a tree root for later, and then darts away from Bilbo with a laugh.
"I'm not It! That's not fair!"
"Is too!"
"Ha ha, can't catch me!"
Being a grown-up seems all well and good, but Sammie's in no hurry to finish this particular chapter of his story.
~
Pretty Good Year | email Mary