Shelving Books
by North-took

Frodo rubbed sleep from his eyes and wandered down the hall. As he passed his uncle's study he heard a soft noise and paused.

A young hobbit was dusting and polishing the book shelves and restacking the contents. The rich smell of beeswax and lemon; his mother's favored polish, filled the air. For a moment, Frodo was back in his childhood smial helping his father polish the oak paneling in the dinning room before the arrival of relatives from Brandy Hall. Aunt Esmeralda preferred a polish containing linseed oil so it had been some time sense he'd been reminded of that particular smell.

It wasn't until Frodo saw the lad tilt a book to examine the spine that he realized he could read. It surprised him for the child wore the rough and faded garb of a work hobbit's lad.

Then the lad noticed him.

"You must be Master Frodo," the child said. He appeared not much older than Merry and Frodo's heart contracted at the thought of the young hobbit he'd minded since birth. Merry had not taken Frodo's departure well until Frodo promised to send many letters and return for Yule.

"I'm Samwise Gamgee," the lad informed him. "My Gaffer's Mr. Bilbo's gardener."

Frodo recalled meeting Gaffer Gamgee upon his arrival. The gardener was as gnarled as an old oak tree and bore little resemblance to this bright-haired child.

"You can read," the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. A servant's child who could read was as rare as a trout in a haystack.

Young Samwise let the slightly accusatory tone flow past him. "Mr. Bilbo himself taught me."

"That I did," Bilbo said from behind Frodo. The older hobbit favored Samwise with a pleased smile. "Sam, the Gaffer wants your help with the weeding. You can finish the books later."

When the child was gone, Bilbo turned to his nephew. "Your cousin Ferumbras doesn't hold with anyone other than gentry learning their letters."

Frodo nodded. "He says it makes them chafe against their station."

"Yet your cousin Saradoc offers to educate the children of his servants, though few ever accept. Do they or Sam seem chafed to you?"

"No."

"The boy has a sharp mind and I saw no reason not to teach him," Bilbo smiled and nodded to the neatly stacked bookshelves. "It does make it nice that he can re-shelve my books for me."

"I suppose."

"Frodo... part of the reason our relatives disdain me," Bilbo began, fiddling with something in his waistcoat pocket. He didn't see the warmth that illuminated Frodo's features at the phrase 'our relatives'. "Is that I don't hoard my gold like a dragon or parcel it out only amongst the best families. I've seen enough of the world to know that class permeates every society � but if someone has talent it should be nurtured. I daresay the better families could use a bit of stirring up; it would certainly do Mistress Lobelia some good!"

Frodo smiled at that. He'd met the Sackville-Bagginses last Yule and didn't find them particularly pleasant company. The impression he received was that the feeling was mutual.