Old Winyards

Chapter: Twenty-one
Pairing: Sam/Frodo; Merry/Pippin
Authors: Catherine and Thuri
Rating: A (Language)
Warnings: Angst; A bit of parodical and rude bashing of a celebrity.
Summary: Sam wakes up to find Frodo gone.

A/N: My apologies, once again, for posting this later than I'd said I would. Please lodge a complaint with the PTB that declared that with the monthly hormone cycle should come copious amounts of pain and incapacity. This chapter interlaces with Chapter Twenty, at first.


Sam dragged himself from an uncomfortable sleep as he remembered the previous night's misery. He reached for Frodo and found sheet. His eyes snapped open. "Frodo?" The bed was empty, except for his own body. "Frodo!" He sat up, wincing at the headache that asserted itself, and looked around the room. There was no sign of Frodo, and an unusual quiet had descended within the suite.

Sam launched himself out of the bed and ran into the bathroom, glancing through its cavernous spaces before rushing back out into the bedroom and looking for a sign, a note, anything that would tell him what had happened. He threw on some clothes, used the bathroom in record time and dashed out into the hall, calling for Frodo.

He looked in the office, the sitting room, the living room and dining room. He even looked out by the old oak tree where they had very nearly made love, he remembered with a pang. He was becoming frantic, he realized, and that would do nobody any good.

He invaded the kitchen. "Daisy, have you seen Frodo?" he asked, pouring himself a cuppa and trying not to be embarrassed by the quavering of his voice.

"Why, of course I have, Sam; he had Ham drive him into town more than an hour ago. He didn't want to wake you, he were that considerate. He even wrote you a note." Daisy blushed as she handed it to Sam.

Sam read the note and turned red, swiping hard at his eyes. "I have to go, Daisy. I don't know when I'll be back. If Mr. Merry or Mr. Pippin calls, tell them Mr. Frodo's at the hospital." He kissed Daisy goodbye before she could protest, and ran for Frodo's Prius.

Daisy decided that she might consider boxing Frodo's ears when he got home, if he didn't look too bad.

Sam kept his wits about him as best he could, driving as fast as the road conditions and speed traps would allow. “Why does the bloody thing have to be all the way over in Santa bloody Rosa?” he grumbled as he tried to pass a tourist. When he finally made it to the hospital, he rushed to the reception desk and asked for Frodo's room number.

"Dr. Took left orders that nobody who wasn't on the list was allowed to see him," said the receptionist, coolly. "Can I have your name, please?”

"Sam Gamgee."

"Oh, Mr. Gamgee! Of course! Dr. Took said we were to take very good care of you." The receptionist beamed at him in a way that made Sam want to thump her. "Mr. Baggins is in 418. I'll have someone show you up. You'll need an escort, since that's our VIP wing."

Sam was shown into a room with a lovely view of Taylor Mountain, tastefully decorated in California Modern and very quiet. Were it not for the inevitable hospital stench and the railed beds and distinctive accessories, Sam would have wondered if he'd been shown to a hotel room. But all of that could go to bloody blazes, he thought. Frodo was not there. "Where's F– Mr. Baggins?" he asked the attendant.

"He's undergoing an MRI, Sam," said Dr. Took from the doorway. He nodded politely at the attendant and made room for him to leave. "And I was quite perturbed with him this morning for leaving you behind." Paladin sat on one of the beds.

Sam nodded, his head spinning.

"Pippin's very impressed with you, and I have to say, I tend to agree with him.” Paladin peered at him. “Now how long have you been having your headaches, son?"

"Not long. Just since I started reading over the paperwork for... for the Estate," said Sam, skirting the partnership issue, for the moment.

"Well, since you're staying here, I'll just make sure you see our ophthalmologist for a thorough exam. No use your going blind on us. And Frodo should be coming back any second now, if they did their jobs properly."

Sam gaped at Paladin. "How'd you know about the headaches?"

"Are you kidding? After so many years training young med students, do you think there's even one headache I can't recognize within 10 seconds? Remind me to give you the list, some day." Just then, Paladin's pager beeped at them. "Oh, what now?" He looked at the number on his pager. “Gotta go. Just lie down, Sam, for heaven's sake. You look like you belong in the morgue!" With that, Paladin left the room. 

Sam lay back on the other bed. Maybe hospitals didn't have to be so bad, after all...

Frodo managed to be polite to the orderly who wheeled him back to his room. His head was pounding, and he hated the hospital more with every moment. He endured the obligatory chitchat with practiced grace and set his teeth as he got out of the chair to bid him farewell just inside the door. “Thanks, but I can make it to my bed from here. It’s just a few feet.”

Sam moaned in his half-asleep state and turned over, dangerously close to the edge of the bed.

Frodo stumbled back to his own bed, smiling slightly when he saw Sam. He'd made it, then... "Sam?" he murmured, when they were alone.

"Nunh...?" said Sam, startled from his stupor enough to grab at the edge of the bed to keep from falling off.

"Sam?"

"Frodo?" Sam opened his eyes and blinked. "Oh, bright light," he winced.

"Sorry..." Frodo reached and turned it off.

"Not your fault. Dr. Took says I need to see the eye doctor."

"I told you so."

Sam grumbled incoherently.

"When did you get here?"

"Can't remember. I was in such a state. I woke up and you were gone, and there weren't no note anywhere until I found Daisy." Sam covered his eyes, protecting them from light and embarrassment.

"I wanted to make sure you got it... and got some sleep."

"I wanted to be with you," said Sam. "I wanted to wake up and go with you. I... I don't want to worry about waking up to find you gone."

Frodo winced. "I'm sorry. I... Your life has become so hard, because of me... I wanted you to have some sleep and escape it for awhile, since I can't..."

"It ain't no escape if I don't have a choice in it," said Sam, more roughly than he'd intended. He clutched at his head. "I don't want to escape from you," he murmured. "I want to help."

Frodo sighed, curling up away from Sam, his own headache pounding in his ears, made worse by the bright lights and noise of the MRI. "I'm sorry."

Sam stumbled off the bed through his headache and went to sit next to Frodo. "A fine pair we are," he murmured, stroking Frodo's back, tenderly. "Here we are, both wanting to help each other, and both of us with heads that make us all grumpy." He bent very carefully to kiss Frodo's cheek. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. And I love you more 'n anything."

Frodo closed his eyes against tears. "I love you, too. And I never want another MRI, ever."

Sam laid his cheek on top of Frodo's. "I wish they had a proper bed in here so's I could lie down with you and hold you properly." He kissed Frodo's temple.

Frodo sighed. "We'll... make do, I suppose. I'm sorry, Sam. I truly am."

"They wouldn't have let me go in there with you anyway, love. I shouldn't have had such a taking over it. I'm the one who should be sorry."

"Why?" Frodo asked, opening his eyes and reaching for Sam's hand. "I abandoned you. Oh, I had good intentions, but they went wrong."

Sam took Frodo's hand. "You're the one has to go through all this," said Sam. "I should be supporting you, not demanding of you." He bent again and kissed Frodo's cheek, his tears falling onto Frodo's skin before he could stop them. "I'm sorry," he whispered, drawing back to stroke Frodo's hair.

"Oh Sam... Can we just say we were both wrong in some ways and right in others and let it go? I can't bear to make you cry again..."

"You ain't the one making me cry, love, but I'll go away and do it someplace else." Sam pulled away, gently. "There's got to be a chapel in this place, right?"

"Don't leave me!"

Sam pushed his way onto the hospital bed, folding Frodo up in his arms and kissing his face. "I missed you, I did, and I've been in a bloody state since before dinner last night, and I just can't hold it in any longer. Ah, bloody hell," said Sam wetly, hiding his face in Frodo's hair.

Frodo just held him, and let him cry, and tried not to feel too guilty. He succeeded in two of the three things, at least.

"Ah, Frodo-love," sniffed Sam when he could speak, again, "none of this is your fault." He kissed Frodo. "I don't have no right to be losing me mind over this. You're the one as is sick, not me. I'm sorry if I've made a right cock-up of the whole affair, but I'll try to make it up to you. If they try to give you another MRI, I'll put on a wig and go in your place."

Frodo laughed softly. "Oh, I do love you."

Sam kissed Frodo, long and with great tenderness. "My dearest, dearest Frodo," he murmured. "Please, just let me hold you for as long as they'll let me, and I’ll try to soothe your head for you."

"That sounds wonderful, love..."

Sam lay back with Frodo in his arms and began a gentle, thorough massage of Frodo's scalp. "Sleep, my love. Your Sam's right here."

"You only see me asleep," Frodo mumbled, relaxing against him.

"Not always," smiled Sam, wolfishly.

Frodo blushed.

Sam kissed his forehead. "There's my Frodo," he said. "Sleep, dearest. You'll probably only have five minutes before the next test."

Sure enough, the door opened five and a half minutes later, according to the clock that assaulted Sam’s eyes.

"Ah, good, I see you managed to hook up, at last," said Paladin as he turned on the lights.

Sam groaned and covered his eyes.

Frodo groaned. "What?"

"It's time for your drug test, Frodo, and you, Sam, need to go straight down to Dr. Evenstar's office for an eye exam. She's waiting for you, right now."

"Oh, God!" said Sam. "You mean I have to open me eyes now?"

"Afraid so, Sam. She's terribly busy, and this is the only time she has available for the next three months. I had to knock off one of her patients to get the time."

Sam groaned and mumbled into Frodo's hair.

Frodo hugged him. "Go. I'm worried about you, Sam. I'll be fine.”

Sam clung to Frodo for a moment, then kissed him tenderly and slipped off the bed, just managing to keep himself upright. "Don't you go hurting him, none," he growled at Paladin.

"I won't, Sam," said Paladin, nodding at him. "Dr. Evenstar's on the second floor, in 201."

As Sam left, Paladin closed the door and turned to Frodo.

Frodo sighed. "Thank you, for getting Sam's eyes examined. I've been really worried about his headaches."

"Oh, that's quite all right, Frodo. I'm looking out for your interests, at least as much as I am his. He's a good man, and he'll be an enormous asset to have on your team. And, erm, let me see what I can do about getting you a slightly larger bed. Though tomorrow after the spinal tap, you'll have to rest up solo."

Frodo blushed, but thanked him softly.

“Now, let’s get this urine test over with.”

"Oh, fuck..."

"Mmhmm," agreed Paladin. "Can't be helped, though. Let me help you into the bathroom. And since it looks like I'll have to hold you up anyway, then the witness requirement'll be satisfied."

Frodo pulled himself up. And, for the life of him, could hardly summon any pee. "Could this be more humiliating?"

"Well, you could be doing this in front of Tom Cruise." Paladin turned on the water in the sink to a slow trickle.

"Tom Cruise doesn't piss. His vitamins take care of that."

Paladin laughed uproariously. "You've got him pegged, there.”

Frodo managed a giggle, and–eventually–enough to fill the cup to the required line.

"Good job, Frodo. Now, if we could just videotape this to show Cruise how to use his dick to good purpose, we'd be doing the world a real service!"

Frodo dropped his face into his hands and groaned.

Paladin steadied Frodo as he washed up and helped him into the wheelchair. "Time to see the psychologist, now." He squeezed Frodo's shoulder. "I'm sorry we have to put you through this, Frodo," he said, quietly.

Frodo sighed. "I'm sorry, too. But thank you, so much, for everything you're doing for me, Uncle Pal, for taking it all seriously."

"Well, if I didn't take it seriously, I'd be a terrible doctor, and I have no intention of doing that. Besides, don't tell Merry, but you are my favorite nephew!"

Frodo grinned. "Not a word. I promise."

"Good! Pippin would poison me at Christmas." Paladin checked his watch. "Damn! I've gotta go see Miss Wolf-Man. Er, Wolfson. Shit, I'm in trouble with her! Good thing the shrink’s on the way."

Frodo sighed and leaned on the arm of the chair. He didn’t question why he felt more exhausted at the mere thought of each test.

A little over an hour later, Paladin met Frodo in the corridor as he was being wheeled back to his room. He thanked the orderly and took over. “Did she give you a lollipop?”

Frodo put his head in his hands and moaned. “Uncle Pal!”

Paladin squeezed his shoulder and helped him into bed. “It’s O.K., Frodo; you can give me the finger if you want. You’re allowed,” he chuckled. There was a noise from the door. "Ah, look, there's Sam! Oh dear, she dilated your pupils, didn't she? Ohhboy..."

Sam stared woozily through the cardboard sunglasses he'd been given. "Can you give me a hand, somewhere, sir? I ain't used to being in a fish tank."

Frodo couldn't stifle his giggle.

Paladin laughed and helped Sam over to Frodo's bed. "I have to be going, now. I'm turning off the lights and leaving strict orders for them to leave you alone for a couple of hours. Frodo, make sure that Sam doesn't fall off the bed, all right?"

"I'll do my best," Frodo promised as Paladin left.

Sam let out a long sigh. "Bloody hell!" he said, "I can see me bleeding retina!"

"Need glasses?" Frodo asked, stretching a little.

"Oh, yes, I certainly do," said Sam. "Apparently, I'm so far-sighted, Dr. Evenstar says it's like having four-pound weights on each eyelid. She says it's amazing I ain't noticed anything before, but I think it's cause I were always working out of doors and didn't need to do a lot of reading, and such."

"No wonder you've got headaches..."

"That's what she said. And I tell you what, if I were straight, I'd be asking her out right quick. Cor, she's beautiful!"

"How would you know?" Frodo asked, grinning a little. "You can't see."

"I could before she put the bleeding drops in, couldn't I?" said Sam. "That's one of the things I didn't like about 'em, was that I couldn't see her no more. Just a bunch of red and yellow veins in me eyes, and a whole lot of bleeding bright light, and me head hurts something awful."

"That makes two of us. And I meant 'cause you need glasses."

"Oh, well, then, I suppose I'll have to get a better look at you, then, won't I?"

"No wonder you've always thought I was hot. You can't focus..."

"Well, I always could see well at a distance, and faces are lots easier than words on a page. Actually, this might explain why I always preferred to hear people read, rather than reading to meself. Only now, I won't have the excuse to get up the courage to ask you to read to me, and it's your voice I want to hear more 'n any other."

"I'd love to read for you, Sam," Frodo said, smiling gently.

"Right then, once we're home and our heads ain't hurting, well, yours, anyhow, maybe you can read me something in Welsh, or Gaelic. Like we talked about at the cottage." Sam sighed. "I have to lie down, love. Is there room here, or shall I find me own bed?"

"Join me? Please?"

Sam felt around for Frodo and lay down, wrapping his arms around him, nuzzling his cheek against him until the corner of the cardboard glasses caught on Frodo's eyebrow.

"Ouch."

"Bloody hell!" cursed Sam, simultaneously. He tore the glasses off and threw them across the room. "As if you needed any more poking than you've already had," he said, ruefully. He pulled Frodo close. "How did it go, love?"

Frodo sighed. "I had to pee in front of my uncle."

"Bloody drug test. Don’t see why they’d have to do that to you," muttered Sam.

"In case I'm abusing them, and that's why I'm sick."

"You'd never!" said Sam, fiercely, hugging Frodo tightly.

Frodo shrugged. "It makes sense. They're also testing me for Lyme disease."

"Well, that makes a bit more sense, at least, unlike the drugs. Though you ain’t exactly been tramping through the woods, lately."

Frodo nodded. "I used to go tramping through the woods plenty, though."

"Well then, I hope it's Lyme disease. At least that's curable."

Frodo made a soft noise of agreement.

"Frodo-love, ain't we supposed to be getting a little sleep?" Sam stroked his fingers through Frodo's hair.

"Hmmm?" Frodo forced himself awake again.

"I thought so," smiled Sam. He drew Frodo close and kissed him. "Let's sleep, sweetheart."

"Mmhmm..." Frodo was asleep.


Three hours later, Sam lay sleeping in the larger bed that Paladin had ordered for their room. He'd never been treated like a VIP before, and he was wondering if he should even want to get used to it. The bed was nice, though, and so was the quiet. He remembered the din of the hospital where his mother had spent all too much time during her illness, and was grateful that they knew how to keep it quiet in this one. He slept fitfully, dreaming of running through the woods with Frodo and making love off the trails, quieting each other just enough to confuse passing strangers. He felt an arm snake around him and started awake, aroused.

"Uncle Pal says I’m done for the day."

"Oh, love, I'm so glad. C'mere..."

Sam rolled over to invite Frodo into his arms.

"M'here," Frodo replied, collapsing in his arms.

"My poor Frodo," murmured Sam, kissing him and wrapping himself around him.

"So tired..."

"I know. I'm glad you're back with me." Sam kissed Frodo's forehead. "How's your head?"

"Huge and pounding. But at least the EEG didn’t make it any worse.”

Sam was already starting to massage it, pulling Frodo to lie on top of him. "I love you," he whispered as he followed the pathways he knew and loved across Frodo's scalp.

"Love you, too. Oh, and the therapist is fairly sure I'm not depressed."

Sam pressed a long, long kiss to Frodo's crown. "I'm so glad, Frodo-love. I were worried about that."

"She says you're good for me."

"Sweetheart..." murmured Sam, kissing Frodo's cheek, fervently. "You're the one as is good for me," he said, massaging Frodo's temples.

"We're good for each other."

"Aye. That we are, and no mistake."

Just then, the door opened and an attendant entered, wheeling a food cart. "Good evening, gentlemen," said the jovial young man. "Dr. Took himself ordered your meal for tonight. Mind if I turn on the light?"

"Yes," Frodo replied, not moving.

Sam kissed Frodo. "Mr. Baggins is very tired after a long day," he said quietly. "Could you leave the food on the table near the door? I can fetch it when we're ready for it."

The attendant frowned. "Well, I'm supposed to make sure that you get it..."

"I'll vouch for that, if need be," said Sam. "And if I recall correctly, Dr. Took did give strict orders that we were to be well looked after."

"Well..."

"We can handle Dr. Took. Now please be a good lad and hop it."

The attendant did as Sam asked and left quietly.

"Thank you..."

"You're welcome," said Sam. "Want to tell me anything else about how things went?" Sam began pulling his fingers through Frodo's hair, the gentle tugging relieving pressure on Frodo's aching scalp.

"I want this to all be over..."

"I know, me dear," murmured Sam. "So do I, for your sake." Sam shifted them carefully so that Frodo was on his back. He began using his fingertips on Frodo's face, making small, gentle circles at the hairline and around the eyes, moving outward to the temples and down to frame the face.

"Mmm... feels good..."

Sam smiled and continued, soothing taut cheek and jaw muscles before bending down to kiss Frodo's lips. "I can hardly see you in the dark, and you're still so beautiful," he sighed. "If this weren't a hospital room..."

Frodo smiled slightly. "Oh Sam... I can't touch you without wanting you. But I'm so tired..."

"Oh, I ain't asking, love. It wouldn't be right with you being so knackered, an' all." He kissed Frodo again. "How are you feeling, now? Better? Worse? The same?"

"Than when?" Frodo asked, brow furrowing a little. "But the massage helped. It always does."

Sam laughed, softly. "That's what I were meaning to ask," he said. "And I'm glad it helps. Now, love, I know you ain't got much appetite, an' all, but we really should try to swallow something, even if we have to do it quick and without thinking about it. Not that I'm looking forward to eating hospital food," he shuddered.

"I'm fasting for tomorrow," Frodo replied primly.

Sam frowned. "I'm going to take a look at that food tray," he said. He began to pull away from Frodo.

Frodo didn't let go. "No moving."

"All right, then," said Sam, ensconcing himself in Frodo's arms. "I do love you," he sighed, "even if you are a bit of a bossy boots, sometimes."

"You love me 'cause I'm bossy," Frodo replied absently, snuggling closer.

"That might be true. Sometimes." Sam tucked Frodo in close to him and nipped very gently at the bridge of his nose.

Frodo wrinkled his nose at him. "Quit it."

Sam grinned and nibbled on an eyebrow, instead.

"Sam!"

Sam made his way to an ear.

"Oh no! Do that and it won't matter if I'm tired."

"Ooooh, I'll have to remember that one, I will. Just file it away in me noggin for use at a later date, as it were. In a nice, dark corner in a restaurant with long tablecloths, for instance," Sam growled low into Frodo's ear.

"Evil..." Frodo breathed.

"Why, thank you," said Sam. He was just zeroing in on a particularly succulent patch of neck when he heard a familiar voice at the door.

"Oh, for heaven's sake! Can't you even keep your hands off each other in a hospital?" Pippin flicked on the light. "And Papa even got you a double bed? Who the fuck are you? Tom Cruise? Papa always did have a thing about him..."

"Ack! Light off!"

Sam did his best to shield Frodo from the light, and his own state of excitement from view.

"Oh, look, Merry, food! All the way over here. And they haven't touched it."

"Just eat it and go away," Frodo mumbled to himself, rolling on top of Sam and burrowing his face in his lover's chest.

Sam stifled a moan as Frodo rolled onto him, drawing him close and kissing his crown.

"Let's see what they've given you," said Pippin, looking at the names on the trays. "Why, Frodo, you've been given some very... adequate-smelling chicken broth, and Sam... Well, you've been given the VIP special."

"What the bloody hell's that when it's at home?" grumbled Sam.

"It looks disturbingly like chicken à la King."

"Blergh!" chorused Frodo and Sam.

Merry shuddered. "Good thing we snuck stuff in for you, isn't it?"

"You did?" said Sam, his stomach rumbling loudly.

Merry grinned. "We did."

"Oh, bless you both!" said Sam. "Could we have it over here?" Sam rubbed Frodo's back. "And maybe if we could just have one lamp on, the one in the corner by the chair? Frodo's head's feeling pretty poorly, today."

Frodo reluctantly slid off of Sam, yawning. "Ever had an MRI?"

"Can't say as I have," said Pippin. "You, Merry?"

Merry shook his head.

Frodo nodded. "I don't recommend it."

Sam sat up a bit and pulled Frodo with him, holding him close. "He's been put through a lot today, with a spinal tap set for tomorrow," he said, softly. "And they ain't fed him yet, neither."

"Well, we can do something about that, at least," said Pippin, opening the cooler and taking out cold chicken for Sam and hot consommé for Frodo. "Here you go!"

"I'm not hungry."

"That's why I brought consommé, Frodo. It's really just liquid, and it's what Papa wanted you to have, anyway, if the hospital were skilled enough to make it."

"You'll feel worse if you don't have nothing, Frodo-love. And they might make you stay longer, if you start to feel worse."

"Merry? Want to gang up on me, too?"

Merry shook his head. "Nah. I'll just hold you down and hold your nose until you swallow."

Sam stifled a laugh as best he could.

"There you are," chirped Pippin, "three against one. Sam, you string him up while I get the funnel..."

"Now see here," said Sam, "there ain't no tying of Frodo's going to be done in this room. I'll be doing that in me own good time, thank you very much."

Frodo blushed scarlet.

"Why, Sam!" gasped Pippin. "I didn't know you had it in you! Now we really must do lunch!"

Sam blushed in turn and gave Frodo an apologetic squeeze.

Frodo and Merry both groaned.

Pippin handed Sam a piece of chicken. "Merry, love, would you mind helping Frodo? Sam, when was the last time you ate?"

Sam blushed. "Well, I had a cup of tea this morning," he said.

"Ate, Sam, as in solid food."

Sam mumbled something into his chicken.

"Couldn't hear that," said Pippin, raising his voice a touch.

"The quail at your place"

Frodo shook his head, hearing him. "And he yells at me..."

"And what about you, Frodo?" asked Pippin, sweetly. "When did you eat last?"

"The same time. But he's supposed to be the healthy one."

"We'll have no double standards here, thank you," said Pippin. "Now you drink your consommé, Frodo Baggins! Do you know how hard that stuff is to make?"

Merry rolled his eyes. "Please, Frodo, if you ever loved me, even enough to stuff mud down my shirt, drink up. He's been slaving and bitching over a hot stove since last night!"

Frodo's eyes widened, and he shut up and drank it.

"There, now, that wasn't so bad, was it?" asked Pippin, a silken smile spread over his face, eyes glinting.

"It tastes wonderful," Frodo offered warily.

Pippin nodded. "Sam? Something wrong with the chicken?" Pippin gazed at him with the same deadly swseetness he'd turned on Frodo.

Sam dove into the meat and began wolfing it down "This is delicious!"

Merry hid a grin. It was nice to see someone else being threatened with bodily harm for once.

Sam finished his chicken, only now feeling how ravenous he had become. "Begging your pardon, but is there any more? I'm so hungry, I might have to try that stuff the hospital gave me."

"Oh, good heavens! There's no need for that," said Pippin, hurriedly producing a dish of cold roasted red potatoes that smelled heavenly and tasted even better.

"This is incredible! What's it called?"

"Potatoes Fontecchio," said Pippin. "It's roast new potatoes with olive oil, garlic, mint and kosher salt. I'll be glad to give you the recipe." Pippin handed Sam a bottle of water. "Careful, you don't want to choke."

Sam gulped the water as quickly as he ate the potatoes. "Thanks, Pippin," he said. "Frodo-love, could you manage more of the consommé?"

Frodo sighed, and picked it up again. "I can try..."

"Thank you, love," said Sam, kissing Frodo's hair.

Frodo smiled for him. "Love you."

Sam nodded tightly and pressed his forehead to Frodo's temple. “I love you, too,” he whispered.

"Well, I abhor you," Merry said cheerfully.

"Oh, don't worry," said Pippin, brightly, "they'll do each other in in a year or two, and then we can have all the weed they stole from us!"

"Huzzah!"

Sam had stiffened at Merry's initial comment and found himself pulling the covers over himself a little more tightly than he had intended. "Thank you for the chicken, Mr-- Pippin," he said. “It were right nice of you both to bring food for us, an' all."

Frodo smacked Merry lightly. "I hate you, too. And yes, thank you both."

"Don't be silly, Sam, of course we'd bring you food! Do you think I'd let you weasel out of eating a dinner that I'd cooked that easily?"

Sam loosened up a bit. "I take it they're always like this?" he asked Pippin, watching Frodo and Merry trade insults.

"Oh, no. Usually they're much worse."

"We resemble that remark," Merry added mildly.

"I see," said Sam. "D'you suppose it'll be safe to leave them alone together when we go off to lunch, one of these years?"

"I rather suspect not," said Pippin sadly. "Sonoma would probably be blown up."

"That's too bad," said Sam. "I'd grown rather fond of the place."

"Me, too," sighed Pippin. "Oh, well. I guess we'll just have to tie them up and strap them to the roof of the car."

"Hey!"

"Well, we'd put a nice soft pad underneath you," assured Sam. "After all, we'd have to protect the paint job, wouldn't we?"

Frodo shook his head. "I think we hate them, too, huh, Mer?"

Merry pouted and nodded firmly.

"So, Sam, lunch at Fisherman's Wharf next week? Tuesday, perhaps? I'll buy."

"That's right generous of you, Pippin; I'd be honoured."

"They're banding together."

"We're in trouble."

"Perhaps we can arrange a very special tour of Alcatraz for these gentlemen, including an overnight stay, with a very attentive guard... er... guide?" suggested Pippin.

"That might be a wise choice," ventured Sam, "seeing as how it's the closest thing to a dungeon you have in these parts." He sighed. "Now that's where living in England would come in handy."

"Definite trouble."

"Of course, you know they'll just get us back as soon as they can," said Sam, dubiously.

"Yes, that's true. Merry'd probably cook something." Pippin shuddered.

"Hey!"

Sam felt Frodo shaking beside him, and stifled a grin. "Well, with what Frodo likes to eat in the morning, that might work very well," he said.

"Oh? What does he like to eat in the morning? Or do I really want to know?"

"Porridge," said Sam in disgust.

"Oh, well, then, they'd be a perfect match!" said Pippin, with a grin. "And at least we won't have to feel guilty for running away to parts unknown."

Frodo smiled, too tired to keep up the teasing, but glad for the distraction of cheerful, snarky voices. He found himself drifting in light, happy for the presence of those he loved the most and relieved that they’d turned their attention elsewhere. He could go to sleep like this...

Sam felt Frodo's weight shift against him and looked up at Merry and Pippin. "Thank you for coming and keeping us company tonight, but it's time for Frodo to go to sleep."

"But it's only eight o'clock!" said Pippin.

"That’s as may be, but they want Frodo early, and he needs his rest."

"You can stay," Frodo murmured, already on the verge of sleep.

"No, we can't," said Merry, quietly. "Goodnight, Fro," he said, kissing Frodo's forehead. "Come on, Pip. He needs to sleep, and so does Sam."

Pippin gathered up the debris from the meal and kissed Frodo, quickly. "Good luck tomorrow, Fro," he said. "And you, too, Sam."

They ushered themselves out, taking the meal trays from the hospital with them and shutting the door.

Sam lay back with Frodo, pulling him close and kissing him. "How goes it, love?"

"So tired..."

Sam kissed him and turned out the light. "Sleep, Frodo. I love you." He pillowed Frodo's head on his chest and prayed that Frodo would make it through the next day's test.

Frodo pressed against him and slept.