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For Cuinwen for her birthday. With thanks to RiverOtter for the beta. A drabble.
Mutters in the Camp
“Bloody root in my back—no proper pillow nor mattress!” grumbled Sam Gamgee as he sought to find a comfortable position on the rocky ground, their first campsite out of Rivendell. He had but the vaguest idea as to which direction they were going and what they would encounter along the way.
“Will be wantin’ home and my own bed and blankets often enough afore we’re through,” he muttered—before abruptly falling asleep.
Frodo, lying nearby, listening to the gardener’s complaints, smiled sadly. “I, too, wish you were home, safe and sound with your Rosie, Sam,” he whispered.
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