"Truly, Sam," Frodo reassures, "I want to help. I'd enjoy it." He surveys the plot, where new vegetable rows are to be tilled, and offers a grin that belies his nerves, "I'm sure I'm not as skilful as you, but, ah... It would go faster with two?" Sam nods. Frodo notes how rosy his countenance in the sunshine. Gathering himself, and not quite paying attention, he points, "Would you hand me that hoe over there?" Sam is silent. Frodo turns finding himself pointing right at a certain dwarven uncle.

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