Disclaimer: and now for a completely silly little ditty ... *ahem* ...   "I wish they were mine, but of course they are not, but I love to play with them and I will til I rot!"  ... *bow*  lol ... 

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"Achoo!" 

Sam sat bolt upright, having just been woken from a deep slumber. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he near cracked his jaw as he opened his mouth to emit a giant yawn, brain struggling to register the sound he had just heard.

"Achoo!"

It came again, this time louder than the first. Sam groaned and had just rolled over to go back to sleep when he remembered the night before. Fighting exhaustion, he struggled to a sitting position again. He slowly made his way to the basin which sat on a washstand by the room's round window. Sam often stayed in this guest room when Bilbo was away so that he could see after Mr. Frodo, who would otherwise forget to eat all his meals, like as not. He splashed the cold water on his neck and face, waking himself quickly and clearing his head of the numbness caused by sleep. Finally able to function properly, he pulled on a pair of grass-stained trousers along with a simple white shirt. The sneezing which had ceased fro a few moments returned with a series of them, each coming in swift succession. After fastening the last of his shirt buttons, Sam hastened down the hall to Frodo's room, knowing full well what he would find.

Upon reaching the door, he rapped sharply on its wood surface, only to be answered by a sniffling sound from within. He pushed it open, ignoring the squeaky protest of the still un-oiled hinges, and stepped inside. There, lying on the bed, was a very sleep, congested Frodo.

After clearing his throat and sniffling a little, Frodo pushed himself up on his elbows and croaked, "Hullo, Sam. You're up early, aren't you?"

"A bit, sir," Sam said slowly, walking towards the bed as he spoke. "Are you feelin' alright? You sound a little sick."

"Nonsense, Sam!" Frodo protested. "I feel just fine!" He struggled to sit up the rest of the way only to fall back against the pillows with a violent sneeze. "Well, maybe I have a slight cold - I was reading on the window seat last night with the window open."

"What?" Sam inquired in disbelief. "It's the middle of winter, sir!"

"Yes, but I wanted to see the moon! Did you see it last night, Sam?"

Sam looked over at the still-open window and let out a sigh of exasperation for not noticing earlier. "No, I can't say I did. It's far too cold to be goin' outside, let alone opening windows," he replied as he closed the offending window, locking it and tying back the windblown curtains. "Was it lovely, sir?"

"O, yes, Sam, it was! Simply beautiful, with beams of light on the trees and such." Frodo sighed. "I wish you could have seen it, Sa- a- achoo!" His sentence was punctuated by yet another sneeze. "Oh," he groaned, "I am sick, aren't I, Sam?"

"I'm afraid so, sir," he replied, pulling the rumpled coverlet up and tucking it tightly around his master's body.

"Thank you, Samwise," Frodo said, a slight grin on his face, a fevered flush coloring his normal whiteness.

Smiling himself, Sam surveyed the elder hobbit's face. He reached out and gently touched his forehead, gasping at the stark contrast between his cool palm and Frodo's fevered brow.

"Sir, you're burning up!" he exclaimed.

"What?" he began to lift his head, setting it back down with a groan. "My head does ache."

Sam patted his hand, excused himself and scurried off in the direction of the kitchen softly calling a "be right back, sir" over his shoulder. As he entered the room, warm from the heat of the woodstove, he wracked his brains, searching for memories of his mother, Bell Gamgee, remembering his sweet mother's various medicines and soothing cures she had so often used for times like these...

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TBC .. A/N - here we go again ... review time, pretty pretty please! the reward for reviewing this particular chapter will be ... rainbow shoelaces! yay! come and get 'em - the review button is calling your name! ;)