Disclaimer: I'm not the Professor, I'm not affiliated with any Tolkien publishing groups (oh that I were!) - I'm just a wee little fanfiction writer who likes to borrow his characters and have some fun ... I'll give them back, I promise! :)

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Sam sat in the kitchen, absently stirring his tea as he thought of the preparations needed for the oncoming planting season. With a sigh, he pushed the cup away and began tracing the grain of the polished wooden table. So much to do ...  A shadow fell over the room and he glanced up just in time to see the last few beams of light before the sun disappeared below the horizon. He stood up and walked over to light the candle that he would take to his room, listening for the rustle of papers as he passed the door to his master's study. Nothing.

Puzzled, Sam left his usual route and walked in, lit candle in hand. Bilbo may have been off visiting in Buckland, but Sam knew that the other Baggins, Mr. Frodo, should certainly be present. Master Frodo was always in the study around dusk, putting away books he'd borrowed that day and shuffling through piles of his uncle's notes in search of a new one. But as Sam stepped into the room his eyes met only with the desk, its piles of papers still as neat as Sam himself had left them not three hours before. Where could Frodo be?

Bag-end's outer doors had been barred against the last-winter chill, and the sinking of the sun had seen most young hobbits, or "tweens" as they were called, in their beds. However, as Sam was long out of infancy and his master fifteen years his senior, Frodo was rarely found in his room at this hour. But several minutes later, after ruling out all other possibilities, he found that his wooly feet had led him to that very spot. Realizing this was his final option, Sam took his last few steps toward the door. Knocking softly and receiving no reply he opened the door a crack.

"Mr. Frodo?" he whispered softly. Still no answer. Pushing the door open the rest of the way, Sam stuck his head in the room. A shape lay on the bed, illuminated by the soft moonlight. He walked over to it and saw that it was Frodo, fast asleep, a thick book of Elvish with yellowing leaves clutched tightly in his hand. The candle on the bedside table burned low, wax pooling at its base. Smiling and shaking his head, Sam carefully pried the book from his master's grasp and laid it on the bedside table. As he did so, he was surprised at how cold Frodo's fingers were and pulled the heavy comforter up to the sleeping hobbit's chin from where it had lain at the foot of the bed.

He smoothed his master's curls, and, when he was content that Frodo was comfortable and still asleep, left the room, wincing as the door's hinges creaked and then making a mental note to oil them later.

Padding down the hallway to his room he thought to himself, Well, that's odd, to be sure. Master Frodo never goes to sleep until much later than this. But then, I s'pose that all that reading he did today could have tired out his eyes and then the rest just followed...

He gave no more thought to it until the next morning when he was awakened by a violent sneeze from down the hall.

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A/N - All those who review will get a sugar cookie and a nice, soothing cup of tea, compliments of Samwise Gamgee! So go ahead, hit that button! :)