Author’s note: This story is written in response to a challenge on the yahoo group, Magical Shire Fanfiction. Also, this isn’t a Frodo/other fic. It’s about Frodo and Sam. For some reason, when I searched for Sam’s name when choosinig a character, I don’t see it?

Disclaimer: I don’t own the LotR characters or anything in Middle-earth. They obviously belong to the brilliant J.R.R. Tolkien

Category: Drama, hurt/comfort

First Impressions

By

Maddy Lake Deep

Chapter one: From Brandy Hall to Bag End

“Well, this is it…Bag End,” Frodo Baggins heard his Uncle Bilbo say while standing inside the parlor.

Bilbo shut the door behind them. They stood beside one another for a moment and when Frodo glanced at his uncle, he saw Bilbo’s arched eyebrows that told him, ‘hope-you-like-it-here?’

Frodo smiled. “It already feels like home,” he said and wondered if his uncle believed him.

Bilbo returned the smile, a cheery one it was and then he lightly patted Frodo’s shoulder. “Come, my lad, you need to see more; and while you unpack your things, I’ll cook a hearty meal.”

Frodo had gone with Bilbo on the grand tour of his new home. Next stop was the kitchen and after touring through more tunnels, the final stop was Frodo’s spacious bedroom embraced within light of the early spring sun. And as crimson rays fell upon the furniture, so did Frodo’s water-blue eyes. They took in everything from the quaint oak wood desk beneath a round window to the huge closet nearby the bed where he would now sleep.

“It’s beautiful, uncle.”

“I made sure it was kept nice and tidy before your arrival. You must be famished and so I’m off now to cook the meal.”

And as Bilbo headed to the door…

“Uncle?”

Bilbo turned, standing near the circle. “Yes?”

“Thank you.”

Bilbo walked back to Frodo and gave him a warm, reassuring hug. He then left his nephew alone in the room. Frodo stared at his luggage that had already been set near the closet and then he slumped down on the comfy edge of his bed. He missed his cousins, Merry and Pippin, though they promised to visit him often. Still, it seemed strange to be away from them and he could not help but reminisce the days they had fun together.

Frodo’s eyes meandered around the room again. Peering over his shoulder at the window, he rose onto his furry feet and headed toward the half open window. There he stood and pensively watched Bilbo’s backyard; lost in thought about the Sackville-Bagginses giving him a loathing eye during his journey to Bag End. While riding in the cart, he hoped not to see them and there they were. Other hobbits also gave him a look, some curious, some friendly, and the other look Frodo knew very well: He’s outlandish and cracked, just like his Uncle Bilbo.

“Will I like it here?” he said to himself, sighing deeply. “Well, I ought to unpack before the meal is done.”

After Frodo unpacked everything, he joined Bilbo at the kitchen table. Since leaving Brandy Hall, his stomach begged relentlessly for food and while Bilbo rambled, Frodo savored the roast chicken and mushrooms.

“Tomorrow will be a beautiful day,” said Bilbo cheerily.

“What have you planned for tomorrow?”

“Lunch with Master Hamfast and his son, Samwise.”

Hesitating to eat a piece of chicken pronged on the fork, he looked up at Bilbo. “Oh? I thought you meant we were having a picnic together.”

“There will be plenty of days for a picnic, Frodo. I told Master Hamfast you were coming to live with me and he wants to meet you. I’ve known him for quite some time. Once he tended my garden but now he’s much too old. Sam will take the job. He’s a good lad, Samwise…you’ll like him.”

Frodo smiled a little. He wanted to meet Master Hamfast and his son. It should be fun, meeting new people. After all, he couldn’t spend his time with only Uncle Bilbo. Frodo needed to venture out and mingle with other hobbits of Bag End and Bagshot Row. Again, he mumbled to himself, “What if they think I’m queer? Frodo Baggins, they must already know. Gossip travels fast and I am certain it hasn’t missed the ears of Master Hamfast. What am I to do?”

“Frodo?”

Bilbo’s voice jolted him out of his deep thoughts. “Yes?”

“Are you all right?”

Frodo nodded while resting his fork back onto the plate.

“I know you miss Brandy Hall,” said Bilbo. “Pay no attention to the Sackville-Bagginses. This is your home, though right now it may not feel like it. The Gamgees are good folk, and they want to welcome you.”

Bilbo gave Frodo another one of his warm, reassuring smiles, and then the gentle hobbit accepted it graciously.

Frodo’s eyes fluttered open. Still groggy from a pleasant slumber, he squinted at his surroundings. At first it seemed he was back at his room in Brandy Hall, but when he senses were fully alert, they showed him a different place–Bilbo’s smial at Bag End. He lifted his head a little from the fluffy pillow. March sunlight greeted him, pouring in through the window and onto his bed. Frodo welcomed its warmth with a smile and then he mentally pushed himself to think positive thoughts about meeting the Gamgees.

Everything will be all right. Like Bilbo said, the Gamgees are good folk. We will have a wonderful time!

At mid-day, Frodo helped his uncle set the table laden with loaves of freshly baked bread, a light chicken stew with potatoes, seed cakes and tea.

“There,” said Bilbo, “it’s all set. They ought to be here any moment now.”

Frodo listened nervously for the doorbell. When he heard it, his heart suddenly leaped and pounded against his chest.

“Come,” Bilbo insisted and Frodo reluctantly followed his uncle to the door.

The doorbell rang a few more and then several times, which annoyed Bilbo. “Half a moment!” he shouted and frowned.

Frodo noted his baffled expression. “Uncle? Are you sure it’s Master Hamfast?”

Bilbo stood at the circle, listening. He then replied to Frodo in a whisper. “I have a feeling–,”

“Bilbo Baggins!”

Bilbo cringed at the irritating voice of Lobelia Sackville-Baggins. Again, he whispered, “I knew it, I knew it!”

Frodo said, “Can’t we pretend we’re not home?”

“Knowing her ears, I am certain she heard me say, half a minute.” Bilbo sighed fretfully and yanked open the door. There stood Lobelia and her husband, Otho. Bilbo greeted them with a smile far from genuine. “Good-day, Lobelia…and Otho.”

“Good-day, Bilbo,” said Lobeila, grinning shrewdly while Otho only acknowledged Bilbo’s greeting with a nod. And when she saw that Frodo hadn’t uttered a word, Lobelia shot an irate glance at him. “That isn’t nice at all. Here we’ve come all this way to welcome your nephew and he just stands there.”

Fuming, the young Baggins wished his uncle had shut the door in their faces, but he knew that would be very improper. Having no choice in the matter, he forced himself to be cordial. “I am sorry. It’s a pleasure meeting you both.”

Lobelia ignored him. Instead, her ravenous eyes stalked the tunneled parlor.

Bilbo grew even more annoyed. “I thank you for coming all this way to welcome my nephew. He is my heir. Yes, when I am gone, everything you see here will be his.”

“I am not deaf, Bilbo,” she retorted. “You’ve already told us the news.”

“Oh? Ah, yes, I remember now. Good heavens! I’ve been so forgetful. I hope it doesn’t happen again. You must be tired of hearing me say my home isn’t for sale, and that Frodo is my heir.”

Lobelia huffed. “Come along, Otho!” They marched down the steps.

“Good-day!” said Bilbo and after shutting the door, he collapsed against it and let out a relieved sigh.

“Uncle, did she really expect us to believe she came all this way to welcome me?”

“Lobelia knows better,” answered Bilbo. He straightened himself and stood in front of his nephew. “She’s very persistent and will say or do anything to be nosy.” He shook his head while heading back inside the kitchen.

Frodo lagged behind. Feeling suddenly uneasy about the lunch, he plopped down in the chair.

Concerned about his nephew, Bilbo also took a seat at the table. “Remember what I’ve told you…pay no mind to those Sackville-Bagginses. They want you to feel unwelcome here. When the Gamgees come, we’ll have a delightful time!”

Frodo’s face brightened; a smile raised his pink cheeks. And then the doorbell started his heart racing again.

Bilbo jumped up from the chair. “It must be them.”

Frodo followed him into the parlor. This time, he hoped Bilbo was right.

“Who is it?” Bilbo asked carefully.

“Ham Gamgee.”

Bilbo eagerly opened the door, greeting father and son with a beaming smile. “Good-day, Master Hamfast and Samwise!”

“Good-day!” said a cheerful Hamfast.

Bilbo shut the door behind them and hurried back to Frodo’s side. “This is my nephew, Frodo.”

“Hullo!” said Hamfast warmly. “We’re very pleased to meet you. And this is my son, Samwise.”

Frodo stared at the stout hobbit who eyed him nervously. Was he nervous or giving him one of those wary looks? Frodo could not tell and found himself agitated by the silence until Sam finally uttered a faint…

“Hullo.”

TBC

A/N: Sorry this is very short but I want to focus on their lunch in the next chapter. Let me know what you think!