Disclaimer, I own neither of the hobbits portrayed in this story, and I get no money from writing it.
I felt something or someone shaking my shoulder and heard that someone speaking my name. It took me a few seconds to realize that it was Master Frodo. He sounded worried, but I didn't think it was important enough to open my eyes for him, for some reason. No, it was important, answering Mr. Frodo was always important. I just didn't feel that I had the strength to do so. I tried to reply to him calling me, but I couldn't muster anything but a groan that didn't even sound like my own voice. Somehow, Mr. Frodo understood that I wasn't meaning any impertinence, I just couldn't talk right. He knew that. I heard him asking me what I remembered about last night. I didn't remember anything. Well, almost anything, I remember being hot. I felt like I was on fire, so I opened the window. Then I was freezing, but I couldn't get up again.
He helped me back on my bed, and I was much more comfortable. My body ached so badly, and I was very cold. Mr. Frodo was talking to me but I didn't quite understand what he was saying. I felt his cool hand on my forehead, the only part of me that felt hot anymore. The touch was comforting .
He left the room and came back shortly. He placed a cold washrag on my forehead, "There you are, Sam. This will get that fever of yours down." I coughed, wishing I had my handkerchief. "Mr. Frodo?" I managed to croak.
I heard his laugh. A gentle, non-threatening laugh that made me feel quite warm and content. "Yes, Sam, it's me." He brought up the fact that I took care of him when he was so sick, a couple of weeks ago, but I didn't do anything out of the ordinary. He was ill, I wasn't, so I took care of him. It wasn't as if I'd killed a dragon that was going to eat him, or walked through a fire to save him, I just did what any normal, self-respecting hobbit would do.
I looked up at him, and saw that he was smiling at me again. It feels so good to know that someone cares about you enough to want to come over to your house and see you when you're less than your best. I feel that Mr. Frodo is another brother to me, even though I do work for him.
"Do you need anything else, Sam?" he was folding up the rag and putting back into the basin as he spoke to me, "Are you thirsty?"
Thirsty, yes, I was extremely thirsty! I hadn't thought about it until he mentioned it, but I was. I nodded just a little bit, anything more and my headache would have gone off again.
"Right Sam, I'll make you some tea, alright? Stay put, I know my way around a kitchen. Yours can't be too terribly different from mine. Tea's in the cupboard over the stove, correct?" He arranged the blankets over me as I nodded again. He was right, my kitchen was hardly any different from his. I'd modeled it after the one at Bag End, very simple and very familiar. My thoughts trailed off after Mr. Frodo left the room. I thought about that kitchen. I remembered when I was a little hobbit how Mr. Frodo would chase me around and keep me entertained while my Gaffer would do the gardening. I remember Master Bilbo sitting me at the table teaching me how to read after I was done with my work and teaching me some Elvish words too. I shut my eyes, allowing the light feel of sleep to wash over me. I shook myself suddenly, Mr. Frodo asked me to try to stay awake. I would try.
"Sam, are you still awake?" I started as my employer came back into my bedroom. I murmured a reply, but it came out somewhat garbled, "Good, here, let me help you sit up and let's get this tea into you." I sipped it, allowing the liquid to warm my throat when I felt another sneeze coming. Master Frodo saw the problem, and held a handkerchief over my face after he put the tea down. "Poor Sam, You really feel sick, don't you? Do you want some more tea?"
"Yes please, Mr. Frodo." I said in a voice that I truly didn't recognize as my own. It sounded awful. He let me rest my head on his shoulder as I drank. It felt heavy, and I wasn't sure if I could support it on my own. I felt very stuffed up, even after I was done drinking. I felt drowsy too, and Mr. Frodo could tell that I needed to sleep again, so he didn't say anything to me and I was asleep before I knew what was happening.
When I woke up next, I felt a bit worse. My throat hurt something terrible, and I couldn't talk at all. I had no idea how long I slept, but it was very bright outside when I opened my eyes. I wanted nothing more than to go outside and work the garden, but that was out of the question. I doubted very much that I could get out of my bed, for one thing. For another thing, I would disturb Mr. Frodo, who had fallen asleep in the easy chair beside my bed. He looked tired, and I hated to wake him, so I quietly took the book from my bedside table and opened it to the page that I had left off. I felt my eyelids growing heavy after the third sentence, so I let myself drift back into the peace that is sleep.
Something was chasing me! I couldn't see it, but I could feel it breathing down my neck. I tripped over a root and the thing got closer. I had to get up again so that I could find a safe place away from this creature. My legs carried me to the end of a path in the forest and nothing but a wood with no path lay before me. I continued, but the very trees were against me. They grabbed me and tried to hold me so that this thing could take me away. I pulled free and kept on running until I had nowhere else to go. I was up against a rock face, the invisible fiend was getting nearer. With one last burst of energy I screamed, then sank down crying, waiting for the inevitable. But something else was there. Someone was calling me. I wanted to answer the voice because it was a nice sounding voice, but I couldn't. It grew more insistent, so I finally looked up.
I opened my aching eyes. A dream, it had all been a bad dream. I focused on Mr. Frodo, who was standing over me washing my face with the washrag. I had never felt such relief before in my life. Much to my embarrassment, I began crying again. "Shh, Sam, you're alright now. It was just a nightmare. You'll be fine after a bit." I knew it was just a nightmare, but it felt so real. He seemed to read my thoughts, "I know Sam, all nightmares feel real when your having them, don't they?" He smiled a sympathetic kind of smile at me before helping me sit up again. "Do you want to try to eat a bit of soup? I made some earlier, so all I have to do is reheat it."
I nodded, still not trusting my voice enough to talk, I probably wouldn't be able to anyway, my throat hurt so badly. "Good, I'll be right back." I picked up my book again and opened it to where I had left off. "That was a bad idea" I thought as sharp pains pricked me all over my eyes and forehead. I just wasn't well enough to read, yet. I settled back on my pillows, closing my eyes lightly, but not wanting to sleep, I didn't want the nightmares to return.
Mr. Frodo pushed open my door and came in with a tray. I watched with half closed eyes as he set the tray down on the foot of my bed and opened a napkin, which he spread over my covers. "Right then, Sam. There are two ways we can go about doing this. I could try helping you or you can do it yourself."
There was no way I was going to let Mr. Frodo feed me, it would be too humiliating. I lifted the spoon and found it to be much heavier than I remembered spoons ever being in the past, but I managed to get it to my mouth. After about three lifts, though, I was exhausted. "Don't worry about it, Sam, I can help you. There's no one in here but me. Heaven knows I could never laugh at you. You've taken care of me more times than I can count."
As I lay there, allowing Master Frodo to spoon the soup into my mouth, I wished vaguely that he would not keep bringing that up. Of course I was going to take care of him. I hadn't done anything out of the ordinary. I only did what any hobbit would have done in my position. I did nothing spectacular.
When I could eat no more, he took the tray away, and told me to sleep. It's very embarrassing to sleep all the time, but at the same time, I would welcome it. I hoped Mr. Frodo would understand if I took him up on that offer. His eyes were kind and friendly, so I nodded and closed them again, this time slipping into a deep, dreamless slumber.
I felt something or someone shaking my shoulder and heard that someone speaking my name. It took me a few seconds to realize that it was Master Frodo. He sounded worried, but I didn't think it was important enough to open my eyes for him, for some reason. No, it was important, answering Mr. Frodo was always important. I just didn't feel that I had the strength to do so. I tried to reply to him calling me, but I couldn't muster anything but a groan that didn't even sound like my own voice. Somehow, Mr. Frodo understood that I wasn't meaning any impertinence, I just couldn't talk right. He knew that. I heard him asking me what I remembered about last night. I didn't remember anything. Well, almost anything, I remember being hot. I felt like I was on fire, so I opened the window. Then I was freezing, but I couldn't get up again.
He helped me back on my bed, and I was much more comfortable. My body ached so badly, and I was very cold. Mr. Frodo was talking to me but I didn't quite understand what he was saying. I felt his cool hand on my forehead, the only part of me that felt hot anymore. The touch was comforting .
He left the room and came back shortly. He placed a cold washrag on my forehead, "There you are, Sam. This will get that fever of yours down." I coughed, wishing I had my handkerchief. "Mr. Frodo?" I managed to croak.
I heard his laugh. A gentle, non-threatening laugh that made me feel quite warm and content. "Yes, Sam, it's me." He brought up the fact that I took care of him when he was so sick, a couple of weeks ago, but I didn't do anything out of the ordinary. He was ill, I wasn't, so I took care of him. It wasn't as if I'd killed a dragon that was going to eat him, or walked through a fire to save him, I just did what any normal, self-respecting hobbit would do.
I looked up at him, and saw that he was smiling at me again. It feels so good to know that someone cares about you enough to want to come over to your house and see you when you're less than your best. I feel that Mr. Frodo is another brother to me, even though I do work for him.
"Do you need anything else, Sam?" he was folding up the rag and putting back into the basin as he spoke to me, "Are you thirsty?"
Thirsty, yes, I was extremely thirsty! I hadn't thought about it until he mentioned it, but I was. I nodded just a little bit, anything more and my headache would have gone off again.
"Right Sam, I'll make you some tea, alright? Stay put, I know my way around a kitchen. Yours can't be too terribly different from mine. Tea's in the cupboard over the stove, correct?" He arranged the blankets over me as I nodded again. He was right, my kitchen was hardly any different from his. I'd modeled it after the one at Bag End, very simple and very familiar. My thoughts trailed off after Mr. Frodo left the room. I thought about that kitchen. I remembered when I was a little hobbit how Mr. Frodo would chase me around and keep me entertained while my Gaffer would do the gardening. I remember Master Bilbo sitting me at the table teaching me how to read after I was done with my work and teaching me some Elvish words too. I shut my eyes, allowing the light feel of sleep to wash over me. I shook myself suddenly, Mr. Frodo asked me to try to stay awake. I would try.
"Sam, are you still awake?" I started as my employer came back into my bedroom. I murmured a reply, but it came out somewhat garbled, "Good, here, let me help you sit up and let's get this tea into you." I sipped it, allowing the liquid to warm my throat when I felt another sneeze coming. Master Frodo saw the problem, and held a handkerchief over my face after he put the tea down. "Poor Sam, You really feel sick, don't you? Do you want some more tea?"
"Yes please, Mr. Frodo." I said in a voice that I truly didn't recognize as my own. It sounded awful. He let me rest my head on his shoulder as I drank. It felt heavy, and I wasn't sure if I could support it on my own. I felt very stuffed up, even after I was done drinking. I felt drowsy too, and Mr. Frodo could tell that I needed to sleep again, so he didn't say anything to me and I was asleep before I knew what was happening.
When I woke up next, I felt a bit worse. My throat hurt something terrible, and I couldn't talk at all. I had no idea how long I slept, but it was very bright outside when I opened my eyes. I wanted nothing more than to go outside and work the garden, but that was out of the question. I doubted very much that I could get out of my bed, for one thing. For another thing, I would disturb Mr. Frodo, who had fallen asleep in the easy chair beside my bed. He looked tired, and I hated to wake him, so I quietly took the book from my bedside table and opened it to the page that I had left off. I felt my eyelids growing heavy after the third sentence, so I let myself drift back into the peace that is sleep.
Something was chasing me! I couldn't see it, but I could feel it breathing down my neck. I tripped over a root and the thing got closer. I had to get up again so that I could find a safe place away from this creature. My legs carried me to the end of a path in the forest and nothing but a wood with no path lay before me. I continued, but the very trees were against me. They grabbed me and tried to hold me so that this thing could take me away. I pulled free and kept on running until I had nowhere else to go. I was up against a rock face, the invisible fiend was getting nearer. With one last burst of energy I screamed, then sank down crying, waiting for the inevitable. But something else was there. Someone was calling me. I wanted to answer the voice because it was a nice sounding voice, but I couldn't. It grew more insistent, so I finally looked up.
I opened my aching eyes. A dream, it had all been a bad dream. I focused on Mr. Frodo, who was standing over me washing my face with the washrag. I had never felt such relief before in my life. Much to my embarrassment, I began crying again. "Shh, Sam, you're alright now. It was just a nightmare. You'll be fine after a bit." I knew it was just a nightmare, but it felt so real. He seemed to read my thoughts, "I know Sam, all nightmares feel real when your having them, don't they?" He smiled a sympathetic kind of smile at me before helping me sit up again. "Do you want to try to eat a bit of soup? I made some earlier, so all I have to do is reheat it."
I nodded, still not trusting my voice enough to talk, I probably wouldn't be able to anyway, my throat hurt so badly. "Good, I'll be right back." I picked up my book again and opened it to where I had left off. "That was a bad idea" I thought as sharp pains pricked me all over my eyes and forehead. I just wasn't well enough to read, yet. I settled back on my pillows, closing my eyes lightly, but not wanting to sleep, I didn't want the nightmares to return.
Mr. Frodo pushed open my door and came in with a tray. I watched with half closed eyes as he set the tray down on the foot of my bed and opened a napkin, which he spread over my covers. "Right then, Sam. There are two ways we can go about doing this. I could try helping you or you can do it yourself."
There was no way I was going to let Mr. Frodo feed me, it would be too humiliating. I lifted the spoon and found it to be much heavier than I remembered spoons ever being in the past, but I managed to get it to my mouth. After about three lifts, though, I was exhausted. "Don't worry about it, Sam, I can help you. There's no one in here but me. Heaven knows I could never laugh at you. You've taken care of me more times than I can count."
As I lay there, allowing Master Frodo to spoon the soup into my mouth, I wished vaguely that he would not keep bringing that up. Of course I was going to take care of him. I hadn't done anything out of the ordinary. I only did what any hobbit would have done in my position. I did nothing spectacular.
When I could eat no more, he took the tray away, and told me to sleep. It's very embarrassing to sleep all the time, but at the same time, I would welcome it. I hoped Mr. Frodo would understand if I took him up on that offer. His eyes were kind and friendly, so I nodded and closed them again, this time slipping into a deep, dreamless slumber.