It was high summer, and all of Hobbiton seemed sleepy and quiet in the heat. Frodo Baggins was stretched out on his back on the roof of Bag End while waiting for his cousins, Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took, to arrive. He had a book in his hand, but he felt too warm and drowsy to read it. He had enjoyed a nice early breakfast and was feeling quite full and comfortable, although the day was already very warm and hot dapples of sunlight kept filtering through the leaves of the tree overhead, flickering on his half-closed eyes. As the Master of Bag End (a title he was still not quite accustomed to,) there were many more important things he could have been doing while he was waiting, but he didn't feel like doing them. The long grass felt cool and pleasant, and moving seemed like such a bother.

He had almost fallen asleep when he was alerted by a noise down below. He rolled over and crawled through the sun-browned grass. It needs a cutting; have to remind Sam about that, Frodo thought absent-mindedly. He looked down on the curly brown heads of Merry and Pippin as they stood on the doorstep. They were early. As he watched, Pippin (looking very dressy and rather overheated in a dark green woolen jacket and waistcoat,) reached out and rang the bell.

"We come all this way, and he's not even awake!" Merry grumbled, and then pounded the door with his fist. "Wake up, cousin! We know you're in there! Just because you're the Master of Bag End doesn't mean you can sleep the day away!"

"We demand second breakfast!" Pippin added, giving the bell a ferocious yank.

Frodo wondered how long it would take them to find him if he stayed quiet, and the idea made him snort. Merry looked up. "Aha, I see you there!"

He went around the side of the hill and started to climb up, using clumps of grass as handholds. He was sweating by the time he reached the top. Pippin followed with a lot less effort-he wasn't quite as stout as Merry-but he was still panting. "Well that's nice! Lazing about in the shade while we perish from hunger. I don't suppose there's anything left?"

"There's plenty left," Frodo said. "But I've had my breakfast, so you'll have to serve yourself."

"Oh, bother," Pippin said. "I just got up here." But hunger won out over exhaustion and he started back down.

"Bring me something, will you?" Merry said. "Some nice cheese, or maybe some ham, or buttered toast and jam."

"Oh, that sounds good," Frodo said, grinning. "Ham on toast, please. And some pickles. And some seed-cake."

Merry winked at Frodo. "And some apples and pears! Don't forget the salt."

"Oh, for pity's sake," Pippin muttered. Being the youngest certainly had its disadvantages, and being bossed around mercilessly was only one of them. "Why don't we just have a picnic up here, while we're at it?"

"Good idea!" Frodo and Merry both said at once, then laughed like loons. Pippin raised his hands in despair and gave up.

Merry took off his coat and folded it into a pillow, then lay back in the grass, looking up at the sky with his hands behind his head. "Hot one today."

"Hm."

"Good for the hay," Merry remarked. "How are you getting along?"

"Very well, thank you," Frodo sighed. "But I miss Bilbo. I'd give a lot to see him tramping up the road some evening. And Gandalf. Do you know, it's been almost nine years since I last saw Gandalf! I do hope he shows up for the birthday parties this September."

"Me, too," Merry said. "I'd like Pip to be able to see his fireworks. He was really too young to remember them the last time, you know. Remember the dragon firework? That was the best one."

Frodo smiled. "If I recall correctly, you screamed and hid under the table."

"Well, I was just a little lad, myself." Merry's cheeks had turned red. He cleared his throat. "And here's Pip with the food."

Pip was struggling up the slope with his arms full of food, cups, plates, utensils, a cloth and a jug of ale. "A little help here, if you please!"

Merry and Frodo got up and helped him lay everything out. Merry rolled up his shirtsleeves and Pippin shook out a napkin. Frodo heard a cheery whistling and looked down again. Sam was coming along with a hoe over his shoulder. "Good morning, Sam!" Frodo called. "Come up and have some second breakfast with us!"

Sam looked around, wondering where the voice was coming from, then saw Frodo waving to him from the roof of Bag End. "Thank you, Mr. Frodo, don't mind if I do." He clambered up and leaned his hoe against the side of the tree, then sat down and mopped his face with a red handkerchief. "Mornin' Mr. Merry, Mr. Pippin. Hot day, isn't it?"

Merry paused in his eating to press a cup of ale into his hand, and Frodo and Pippin piled food on his plate. Pippin hadn't spared the cellar and larder, so there was plenty to go around. They munched along in silence for quite some time, only commenting now and then on the excellence of the ale, or the pleasant twang of the cheese and pickles. Before too long they pushed the plates away, feeling stuffed and content. Sam crawled around stacking the plates, utensils, cups, and jars, brushing crumbs off the cloth and wrapping the leftovers (there weren't too many of these,) over Frodo's protests that he would get it later. "Can't be lettin' the ants into it," Sam insisted. "No waste, no want, as my Gaffer always says."

Pippin burped gently and leaned back in the grass. "Pardon me."

"I'm trying my best," Merry said. He was leaning back on his elbows, with his legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles. "I say, Frodo, doesn't that cloud there look like a face? Rather like your cousin Lobelia."

"More like Lotho," Pippin said. "Especially around the ears." He was feeling rather sleepy and wondered if it would be worth the effort to hunt up a grasshopper to drop down Merry's shirt.

"It depends," Frodo said, his voice slightly muffled, since his book was tented open over his face. "Does it have its mouth open?"

This caused a round of helpless laughter, and Sam giggled until he fell over on his side. He had been at the receiving end of Mistress Lobelia's tongue-lashings on more than one occasion. Sam squinted up at the sky. "That one there kinda looks like a dragon. Big one, too, like that there Smaug in Old Mr. Bilbo's tales."

"Frodo! Frodo Baggins!"

"Speaking of dragons…" Merry muttered under his breath.

Lobelia Sackville-Baggins, her straw bonnet firmly in place, the red ribbons tied tightly under her many chins, was marching down the dusty road toward Bag End. "Get down!" Frodo hissed, quite unnecessarily as it turned out, since Merry, Pip, and Sam had already thrown themselves flat. They crawled as close as they dared to the edge of the roof and looked down at the top of her bonnet as she came through the gate, stalked up the walk, and rang the bell.

"Well, this is a fine kettle of fish," Sam said. "What should we do, Mr. Frodo?"

"Invite her in and make some tea, I suppose," Frodo said, with a sinking heart. She would probably stay all day, and she'd have plenty to say about the state of Bag End since he had become the Master, and none of it would be good. She had never liked Bilbo, and she detested Frodo.

"No, no, NO," Merry whispered, clutching his sleeve. "We came to visit you, Frodo, not to sit in a stuffy parlor all day and listen to Lobelia run on!"

"Don't go down there!" Pippin urged, clinging to his other sleeve. "The day will be ruined!"

"Very well. But how are we to escape?"

They were quiet for a bit, digesting this. Lobelia was tapping her foot impatiently, but she showed no signs of leaving. She turned and pounded on the door, the last resort of impatient Hobbits. "Frodo Baggins, answer the door this instant!"

"We need a diversion," Merry said finally.

"I'll draw her off," Sam said. "High time I was getting' back to work, anyway." He started to scoot backward down the hill. "Reckon I'll come get these things when she's finished with me. Thank you for the second breakfast, Mr. Frodo."

"Brave Sam!" Merry said with feeling, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Noble Sam!" Pippin laughed out loud and tried to smother it with his hand.

"Shh!" Frodo hissed. Pippin's laugh had attracted Lobelia's attention and she was looking round curiously. "No thanks necessary, Sam. Feel free to drop by later for some supper."

Sam crawled out of sight, and before too long they saw him come around the corner with his hoe, mopping his face as if he had been hard at work. "Good morning to you, Missus Lobelia. Hot day, isn't it?

Lobelia pounced on him, shaking her parasol in his face. "There you are! Where has that young fool of a Baggins got to, eh?"

"Can't say as I know, Missus. Reckon he went for a walk." Lobelia was facing Sam with her back to Bag End. Sam looked discreetly up and over her shoulder, raising an eyebrow slightly. Three anxious faces, almost hidden in the long grass, peered down at them. One of the hidden figures raised an arm and gave him a thumbs-up gesture.

"A walk!" Lobelia bellowed. (Lobelia was well into her nineties, old even for a Hobbit, and she was growing slightly deaf in her old age.) "In this heat? Not very likely! Try again, young Hobbit."

"Sounds like a fine idea," Merry said quietly.

"We should go now," Frodo whispered. Using all their Hobbit stealth, they crept away, Lobelia's squawking voice following them until Bag End was well out of sight. Poor old Sam! Frodo thought. What a sacrifice! He would have to do something really nice for him later on to make up for his suffering.

****************

To Be Continued.

Other folks have covered this ground much more successfully than I, (Oselle, Shirebound, Baylor, to name a few,) but I suppose everyone's got at least one Hobbit story in their system, and this one's mine.

Disclaimer: Tolkien's heirs own all characters and settings. I own nothing but my imagination, which goes berserk occasionally, picks up LOTR characters in its frothy jaws and carries them off to play with. (Down, Imagination! Down! Drop 'em! Drop! Good girl.)

A gigantic thanks you to everyone who has reviewed my previous stories! Especial thanks to Marnie and Sidh Ceili: WOW! Reviews like yours make me blush!