Disclaimer: Don't own them. Never have, never will.

"Playing Footsie"

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Sam eyed the tray he carried as he made his way through the hall. He clucked his tongue with disappointment. It seemed a shame; the tray was almost bare, certainly not up to the usual hobbit standard. Fresh bread and butter of course, a chunk of crumbly cheese, some sliced meats, a few apples, some vegetables, and a nice custard for dessert, but nothing that wouldn't taste just as well once it grew cold. His friend and master spent a lot of time sleeping, and would even fall asleep during the meal like as not. No, Frodo hadn't had a hot meal for the last two months it seemed. Not that he could get down much as it was, the babe takin' up all that room an' all.

Pausing to knock quietly in case Frodo was asleep again, he heard some faint whispers and shushing coming from inside the room. He knew of only two persons who would dare the wrath of Aragorn to disturb the Ring-bearer if he was sleeping. Pushing open the door, Sam's suspicions were confirmed. He immediately spotting two curly heads bent over the napping hobbit. Merry and Pippin were huddled next to the bed as their elder cousin slept, unaware of the world around him.

"Sh.. keep it down."

"Don't shush me."

"You'll wake him."

"You'll wake him with all your 'shushing'."

"Do it already."

"All right, just be quiet."

Sam watched, puzzled as Pippin picked up the book Frodo had obviously been reading before nodding off, and placed it on the sleeping hobbit's prodigious belly. He carefully set the tray down on the side table and came over to stand behind the other two, wondering what they were up to.

More muffled giggles-

"C'mon," Merry breathed impatiently.

"Wait for it," Pippin muttered.

"What are we waiting for?" whispered Sam. As the startled cousins turned to look at him, Sam's attention focused on Frodo as the book bobbled, then appeared to jump off where it landed on the floor with a thud.

Merry and Pippin tried to hush their laughter as Sam stared momentarily, mouth agape. "Now see here, what do you thing you're doing?"

"That's what I'd like to know," said a voice from the bed. Sam hurried to help Frodo as he struggled to sit up while the other two stood there shame-faced. The stone floor suddenly seemed to become very interesting as they hemmed and hawed while trying to find the words to explain.

"Well, I'm waiting," Frodo said after he managed to maneuver himself upright, "what were you doing?"

"Well, it's just," Pippin started, " you really don't get outside much anymore and I wanted to bring you some flowers to cheer you up but then you had fallen asleep and I saw the book lying there and I thought it couldn't have been very comfortable so I was going to move it except I noticed it seemed to be moving by itself already and then I got the idea-"

"Stop." Frodo held up his hand. "I get the idea." He fixed them with a stare that sent a shiver down their spines. "It isn't bad enough that the babe already kicks like a seasoned footy player? You have to encourage him?"

Pippin grinned cheekily. "It was funny."

His elder cousin frowned. "You do realize he's also kicking me? That it's quite uncomfortable? In fact, it's become rather painful at times?"

The grin vanished as quickly as it appeared. "I'm sorry Frodo. I didn't think about that."

Frodo winced as another kick could be seen clearly by all. "And just how am I supposed to settle him down now so I may eat my lunch?"

Pippin's dismayed look lasted for but a moment. He bent down and rested his cheek against the bulge of Frodo's belly and pressed lightly with his hands as if to hug the unborn child.

"Hush now little one..." he whispered, then jerked upright. "Oy! He kicked me!"

Frodo smirked as he stroked the swell of his belly. "Good lad."

-End-