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It was the first Midsummer Day celebration in three years it hadn’t rained, and Merry was determined not to let anything dampen his mood. He stood on the edge of the party field, watching the preparations, smoking his pipe, idly not thinking.
“Do you suppose Lobelia will come this year?” said Frodo.
“Couldn’t say,” said Merry, and put his pipe back in his mouth.
“She might not, after last year’s business,” said Frodo.
“Mm-hm,” said Merry. He’d decided he didn’t care.
“But then again, I think she might be immune to shame,” said Frodo.
“Probably,” Merry agreed. He studied the sky, which was a glorious blue, cloudless. He admired the colourful flags set against it.
“Listen,” said Frodo. “If she does –”
“You’re on your own,” said Merry to the flags.
“Oh, come on,” Frodo protested.
“She’s your relation,” Merry reminded him. She was barely related to Frodo and not at all related to him. If she decided to show her face he’d just avoid her.
“You’re no help,” said Frodo.
“No, I’m not,” Merry agreed.
Frodo scowled at him. He turned away – and his face broke a delighted smile. “There you are!” he said.
Coming over the field was Sam Gamgee, looking as he usually did vaguely uncomfortable in his party waistcoat. “Morning,” he said. “Morning, sir,” he said to Merry. Merry nodded politely, and turned his attention back to his pipe and the flags.
“I thought you were helping your dad?” said Frodo. “I haven’t seen you all morning.”
“He’s fine,” said Sam. He glanced at Merry, and Merry had the sense that he was going to say something else, but was checking himself.
“Don’t mind me,” he said.
“We were just wondering if Lobelia will show her face this year,” said Frodo.
“You were wondering,” said Merry.
“Couldn’t say,” said Sam.
“That’s what I said,” said Merry. But neither of them paid attention.
“Are you all set up?” said Frodo.
“Almost,” said Sam.
“Don’t let me keep you,” said Frodo.
“Hm,” said Sam. “You’re buttoned up wrong.”
“Am I?” Frodo looked down at himself.
“Here,” said Sam, and without any more leave than that he began unbuttoning Frodo’s waistcoat.
Merry watched as he worked each button loose, a touch clumsy but not shy. Frodo was looking down at Sam’s hands, smiling to himself, as if it were perfectly normal for his gardener to be unfastening his clothes, in the middle of the day, out on the party field.
“There,” said Sam, fastening Frodo’s top button. “Now you’re perfect, Mr Frodo.”
“Am I,” said Frodo, in an altogether different tone.
Sam’s hands, their work done, trailed down Frodo’s chest in a manner that went sailing beyond over-familiar into the realm of inappropriate. Merry watched their slow path with increasing concern. He might even call it alarm.
“I’d best be getting back,” said Sam.
“Oh?” said Frodo vaguely, as if he’d entirely forgotten Sam was supposed to be somewhere else.
“I’ll find you later on,” said Sam. His hands were still resting lightly on Frodo’s stomach.
“Will you, now?” said Frodo.
“Aye,” said Sam. “Bye, then,” he said.
He went off over the field, back the way he’d come, and Frodo watched him go with a silly smile upon his face.
Merry put his pipe in his mouth and waited till he was sure Sam was out of earshot, and a moment longer after that.
“What was that?” he said.
“Hm?” said Frodo. “What was what?”
Merry motioned with his pipe at Frodo and at the spot where Sam had been standing. “That,” he said. “The thing that just happened.”
Frodo looked in the direction Sam had gone. He looked at Merry. “I was buttoned up wrong,” he said.
The worst of it was Merry didn’t even think he was playing the fool. “Can I ask you something?” he said.
“Of course,” said Frodo.
“Are you or are you not,” said Merry, “bedding your gardener?”
“What?” said Frodo. “That is. Wildly inappropriate. And, none of your business. And –”
“So, you are?” said Merry.
“I didn’t say that,” said Frodo.
“Well, if you weren’t, you’d just have said so,” said Merry.
Frodo glowered at him.
“I can’t believe this,” said Merry. “I thought you were better than this.”
“Since when do you have a problem with –” Frodo glanced at the crowd out on the party field, not quite far enough away to be sure no-one was listening. “Who I’m sleeping with?” he finished.
“That’s not the problem and you know it,” said Merry.
“No, I don’t!” said Frodo. “I don’t know what you’re getting at or why you think this is any of your business!”
“Oh, for pity’s sake,” said Merry. This wasn’t fair. He’d been having a very nice morning. He shouldn’t have to deal with this. Lowering his voice, he said, “he’s your servant. You are paying him to work for you. You can’t go to bed with him.”
Frodo was staring at him, to all appearances only just understanding what the problem was. “It’s not like that!”
“Well, demonstrably it is,” said Merry. “How long has this been going on?” Not long, he judged. If they made a habit of being as shameless as that he’d have noticed before.
“None of your business,” said Frodo. “Are you insinuating I’m taking advantage of him?”
“I’m not insinuating anything,” said Merry. “I’m just saying.”
“I can’t believe you’d think that,” said Frodo. “I’d have thought you’d know me better than that.”
“Yes, I thought so too,” said Merry.
“It’s not like that,” said Frodo. He sounded truly hurt now, and Merry felt a twinge of regret at having started in so strong. “I care about him a lot.”
“Alright,” said Merry. “Alright. I’m sorry. I lost my temper. I just –” He tried to think of the right way to put it. “I know you wouldn’t deliberately take advantage. I’m sorry for implying you would. I’m just not sure you’ve thought this through.”
Frodo’s lips pursed in displeasure – but he didn’t have a retort to that.
“What happens if he wants to break things off?” said Merry.
“Then we break things off,” said Frodo.
“And he just goes on working for you like nothing’s happened?” said Merry.
“Well,” said Frodo. He floundered.
“You haven’t thought this through,” said Merry.
“It’s very new,” said Frodo vaguely. He looked at Merry properly and said, “you don’t seriously think I’d do anything to hurt him?”
“Not intentionally,” said Merry.
“It isn’t like that,” said Frodo. “He’s important to me. I want things to work between us.”
The problem was, now Merry was calming down from his immediate flare of anger, now that he was seriously starting to listen to what Frodo was saying, it wasn’t getting any less concerning. Frodo wasn’t talking about this as if it were a fling with one of his servants, the sort less scrupulous hobbits might have with their maids before sending them packing. He was talking about Sam the way someone might talk about a hobbit they wanted to marry some day. Oh, he thought. Oh dear.
“Have you talked about this?” he said.
“With Sam?” said Frodo.
“Yes,” said Merry. “Have you actually asked him? If you’re – taking advantage? And don’t say you already know, because you don’t.”
“No,” Frodo admitted. “I haven’t asked.”
“Alright,” said Merry. “Well. I’m going to ask him.”
“What?” said Frodo. “No! Absolutely not.”
Merry gave him a look.
“I realise that didn’t sound good,” said Frodo.
“It did not,” Merry agreed.
“I’ll talk to him,” said Frodo. “Tonight. I promise.”
“Yes, do,” said Merry. “I’m still going to ask him.”
“I’d rather you didn’t,” said Frodo. “It’s not that I’m worried about what he’ll say,” he added before Merry could make any more insinuations. “It’s just. He’s very shy and if you start asking questions about this he’ll get upset.”
“I understand,” said Merry. “I’m going to ask him, though.”
“Merry,” said Frodo in a pleading tone.
“I’m not trying to make things difficult for you,” said Merry. “I’m just – concerned about his wellbeing.”
Frodo’s face softened. “Alright,” he said. “Talk to him.”
“I will,” said Merry.
Talking to Sam was easier said than done. The morning was wearing on and the party field growing steadily busier. When he found Sam at his family’s stall he was in the company of his father or his sister, or both. He wandered in and out, trying to keep an eye on Sam without appearing to be doing so.
It took almost an hour to catch Sam alone. He was carting about a basket of potatoes which suggested he was on his way somewhere, which wasn’t ideal, but Merry wasn’t about to wait about any longer.
“Sam,” he called.
“Hm?” said Sam, then on seeing who was talking to him, “Mr Merry, sir?”
“Can I have a word?” said Merry.
Sam looked off in the direction he’d been headed, as if judging how urgent his errand was, and then shrugged. “Aye, sir.”
“A private word,” said Merry, motioning off in the direction of a more secluded part of the field.
Sam’s eyes went for a moment very big. He said, “about what, sir?”
“A private matter,” said Merry.
“Alright,” said Sam, and off they went, into the shadow of the hedgerow. “What’s the matter?” asked Sam once they were alone.
Merry had had enough time to mull things over, and consider what to say. “Sam,” he said. “Is everything alright, with you and Frodo?”
“Of course,” said Sam. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“You can tell me, if things aren’t alright,” said Merry.
“I don’t know what you’re getting at, Mr Merry,” said Sam.
Well, he’d just have to be more direct. He should have realised. Sam Gamgee was a very direct sort of person. “It’s just,” he said. “I understand you two have been – having relations.”
Sam’s eyes went big and Merry had never seen someone blush quite so quickly, nor so intensely. “How do you know about that?” he said, his face scarlet.
“Ah,” said Merry.
“Did he tell you?” said Sam.
“You’re not very subtle,” said Merry.
“We’re not?” said Sam.
He looked so stricken that Merry floundered. Sam was looking at him as if having the ground open up beneath him and swallow him whole would be preferable to any more of this talk. “I just wanted to make sure everything was alright,” he said.
“How’s that any of your business?” said Sam, and then remembering himself he added, “Mr Merry, sir.”
“Look,” said Merry. “You don’t feel that he’s – pressuring you, or forcing you into anything?”
At that Sam’s face darkened. “Mr Merry, that’s a horrible thing to say,” he said. “You know he’d not do a thing like that.”
“I just wanted to be sure,” said Merry. “I don’t think he’d mean to, but you’re his servant, and –”
“It’s not like that,” said Sam. “How can you think that?”
“Sam –”
“I love him,” said Sam.
He said it with such intensity in his voice. His face was furious, and his grip on the handle of his basket had gone white-knuckle tight. Merry hadn’t really known how this conversation would go but he’d never imagined he might accidentally start a fight.
“I can’t just go around assuming that a hobbit couldn’t be mistreating someone because they’re my friend,” he said. “Not in good conscience. Do you follow me?”
“Aye,” said Sam. “That’s fair. But you know he wouldn’t.” He heaved a sigh. “With all due respect, sir, I don’t want to talk about this any more.”
“I won’t bring it up again,” said Merry. “Though. In future if you don’t want people to know then don’t put your hands all over him in public.” Sam ducked his head, suddenly bashful. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”
“That’s alright,” said Sam, though Merry wasn’t sure it was.
“I’m glad he has you,” said Merry. He was, truly. He wasn’t sure he approved of what they were doing but he was glad Frodo had someone who loved him as much as Sam did. He hoped they could make it work.
“Thank you.” Sam motioned with his basket and said, “I ought to be getting on.”
“Of course,” said Merry.
*
The stars were out when he found his way back to Bag End. He wandered up the path and onto the porch, stretching his arms out above his head. It had been a good day, he thought. It hadn’t rained, and he’d avoided the S-Bs.
Unlatching the door he went on in. “Frodo?” he said. There was no response, but along the hall he could see a light burning in the library, and he went to it.
He stopped short a few doors along, for he could hear voices. Two voices, Frodo’s, and Sam’s gruffer tones. He heard soft laughter, and stepped closer.
“You smell so nice,” he heard.
“Sam, you’re drunk,” said Frodo, that laugh still in his voice.
“M’not,” said Sam. “I just – oh.” The soft sound of them kissing. Merry’s face heated. He shouldn’t be listening to this. But then they oughtn’t be carrying on in the library when they had a houseguest.
“Shh,” he heard Frodo say, and then more giggles. A few moments quiet. “Come here,” Frodo said. “Let me look at you. You’re so handsome.”
“Frodo,” Sam said, his voice shaky.
That was enough. Merry went to the door, and knocked on it. “Frodo?” he said, as if he hadn’t heard anything. “Are you in there? I’m back.”
“Merry?” Frodo answered. He heard laughter, and Frodo said, “shh!”
“Who else?” said Merry. “Listen, I wanted to say sorry for what I said earlier.” There was no response from behind the door. “I’m happy for you,” he added.
“Thank you,” said Frodo. “And. Thank you for being concerned.”
“You’re very welcome,” said Merry. “Anyway, I’m going to bed.
“Alright,” Frodo called back. “I – stop that,” he hissed, and he heard Sam laughing again. “Good night!”
“Good night,” said Merry. “Good night, Sam,” he added for good measure, and without waiting for a reply he wandered off towards the guest rooms.