Author's Notes: I do feel bad making poor Frodo so unhappy, but I wouldn't worry about that too much....(hint, hint) *g* I have no idea what the 'butter incident' is, mentioned in chapter 2; I'll leave that up to your imaginations!

Chapter 4

Frodo lay in bed, unable to sleep. He listened to the sounds of the early morning. A stiff breeze blew outside. Birds chirped uncertainly. Frodo closed his eyes and willed himself to sleep.

The days were becoming colder as winter approached. An icy wind came from the south and chilled the hearts of the hobbits. The old ones were saying it was going to be a harsh winter. The sun rarely poked her head from behind the clouds. Much work was being done to ensure enough food was stored to last the winter. Firewood was collected, fruit preserved and vegetables amassed in large containers.

A chill grew in Frodo's heart. He knew his friends were worried about him. He rarely left the smial, except to go for a walk. He became withdrawn. Sam noticed his face had seemed to age. Small wrinkles were becoming apparent on his forehead. Frodo's hair had become lighter and dull, and he had lost a lot of weight. His clothes hung limply off his thin body. People were whispering about him, despite Sam's refutations. They were saying he had gone mad. That he was going to leave the Shire like Bilbo. They called him Mad Baggins, just as they had with Bilbo years before.

After half an hour of trying, Frodo decided he couldn't fall asleep again, so he got up and made himself a hot cup of tea.

He stoked the fire that had nearly burnt out. Taking his tea to the kitchen, he sat at the table. He wondered what would happen if he just told Sam how he felt.

What if Sam felt the same way? Then everything would be all right. He would kiss Sam and.... But, no, Frodo shook his head. It didn't always turn out happy, like it did in stories, or dreams. Real life was different. In real life consummating your love was the exception, not the rule.

But what if Sam didn't love Frodo. What then? He didn't want to lose Sam's friendship. What if Sam thought this type of love was disgusting...immoral? Frodo couldn't bare it if Sam looked at him with disgust. What if it caused Sam to so mistrust him that he quit his job?. He would lose not just a gardener, but also his best friend. He would probably become an outcast. No, the risks were too high. But, what if Sam did love him? Frodo sighed and gulped down the last of his tea. He took the mug to the sink and washed it out. A noise in the hall caught his attention.

The front door had opened and in walked Sam, shivering.

"Mr. Frodo! You're up!" said Sam.

"Yes, I am," said Frodo. "Come, warm up by the fire."

Frodo fetched a blanket and draped it around Sam's shoulders. "I'll make some tea. I'll just be a moment."

Slowly Sam warmed up by the fireside. "You're up early, sir, if you don't mind me sayin'."

"So are you, Sam."

"I was comin' to make breakfast for you. You haven't been eating much lately and I thought..." Sam trailed off.

Frodo smiled. "I'm feeling much better today. Maybe we can both cook breakfast. I think I've got some bacon in the cupboard."

Sam's eyes lit up. "I'm happy you're feeling better, sir." He paused. "I was wondering, sir, if you don't mind, maybe you could come down to the Green Dragon tonight. You used to like going down there for a pint."

"Maybe I will," said Frodo thoughtfully.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Frodo looked up in surprise a Pippin put another pint of ale in front of him. "It'll do you good," said Pippin smiling.

Frodo thanked him and looked around. The Green Dragon was busy tonight. All the tables were filled with hobbits talking noisily about their families and the coming winter and, of course, food. Frodo's good friends were there; Pippin, Merry, Fatty and Sam; all sitting at the table. Frodo suspected that Sam had arranged his friends to be there, to cheer him up.

Merry stuck a plate of cheese under Frodo's nose. Frodo politely declined. He felt annoyed that everyone was fussing over him. He was older than they were and could take care of himself.

As Frodo sipped at his drink, he idly listened to the talk of his friends. They were discussing whether they should lift some carrots from Farmer Maggot or tease the young Chubb lasses tomorrow.

Suddenly Frodo felt a little dizzy and with a start realized he was drunk. How many glasses had he had? Two? Three? He shook his head, unable to remember. He clutched the table; shaking he head had made him feel dizzier.

"Are you alright, Mr. Frodo?" asked Sam.

Frodo sighed with annoyance. "I swear, I am sick of everyone fussing over me. I wish everybody would just leave me in peace!"

"We are only doing it because we care about you. We wish you would tell us what is bothering you," said Merry.

Frodo looked at Merry sharply, trying to focus on him. "Nothing is bothering me!"

"Frodo, we know there is something wrong. We just want to help," said Merry.

"You can't help me! Nobody can! I'm a lost cause," Frodo snapped.

"Aha! So there is a problem!" Pippin exclaimed.

Merry looked sideways at Pippin. "It's not a lass, it is Frodo?"

"What?" said Frodo surprised.

"You know, unrequited love, that type of thing," Merry said.

Frodo shifted uncomfortably. He snorted. "I am not in love with any lass. I have no idea how you could entertain such a notion. It's silly."

"Frodo, we want to help you. And we are going find out what is wrong, aren't we Merry?" Pippin said. Merry nodded.

Frodo felt anger well up. "It's my business and I will deal with it in my own time."

Merry looked worried. "We don't mean any harm. We just thought it was a lass because you're stuck at Bag End with nobody for company but Sam. We thought you might be lonely."

"Sam is more than enough company," snapped Frodo.

"We think Sam is terrific too, but he's not going to keep you warm at night and look after you till your dying day," said Merry. "You need a wife."

At this point Frodo felt all control had lost him. He felt tears slid down his red cheeks. Sam sat there with a stunned look on his face. Merry rapidly produced a handkerchief and handed to Frodo. Great sobs coursed through Frodo's body as he mopped up the tears. He took a few deep breaths and tried to compose himself.

"Right. I think it's time I took Mr. Frodo home," said Sam, taking control. He decided that the best course of action would be to leave the inn as soon as possible. Sam looked around. Nobody at the other tables was looking at them. He sighed with relief. He would hate there to be more gossip about poor Frodo.

"Come on, sir," said Sam, helping Frodo to his feet. Frodo swayed and Sam put his arm around him. "See, he's drunk. How much did you give him, Pippin?" said Sam sternly. He hoped that his friends thought Frodo was just a bit drunk, even though he suspected that Frodo's tears were not the tears of a drunk.

Sam quickly guided Frodo out of the door in the cold night air. Sam looked at Frodo. His eyes were glazed and his face flushed. Sam put his arm around Frodo's thin shoulders and took him home to Bag End. Frodo said nothing on the way.

Sam led Frodo to the bedroom. "Now you get changed and into bed. I'll go get you some nice hot tea, and fill the hot water bottle." Frodo just nodded.

Sam busied himself in the kitchen heating the water over the fire. He sighed to himself as he poured hot water over the tealeaves. "You are a fool, Samwise Gamgee," he told himself. "Taking Mr. Frodo out when he's not himself. Now look what you've done, you've made Mr. Frodo all sad and upset. Poking your head into other people's business only ends in trouble is what the Gaffer says."

Sam took the hot water bottle and tea to Frodo's room. Frodo had changed into his nightshirt and was tucked into bed. His eyes were closed. His hair was matted and his eyes were puffy. In the soft candlelight his face looked pale.

"Sir?" said Sam softly.

Frodo opened his eyes. "Sam."

"I've got some nice things to warm you up." Sam put the tea on the small table next to Frodo's bed. He handed Frodo the hot water bottle and Frodo hugged it tightly, as it was the only warmth he received from the world.

"Sir?" Sam hesitated. "If there's something wrong, you can tell me. Please."

"Thank you for the tea," said Frodo, ignoring the question.

"Sir, if -- if it is a lass, you can tell me."

"It's not a lass," mumbled Frodo.

"Well, then, what is it?" said Sam gently. A tear slid down Frodo's cheek. "I'm sorry, sir, there I go again sticking my nose in where it doesn't belong. Just ignore your silly Sam, he doesn't know any better."

"Oh, Sam, don't put yourself down like that. You're a wonderful hobbit. I wish so dearly I could tell you, I really do. But, don't you worry about me. Think about -- think about Rosie and how she's the loveliest lass in the whole Shire."

Sam frowned. "Funny you should mention Rosie because..."

"Sam! Please I -- I really would like to go to sleep now." Frodo closed his eyes.

Hearing Sam talk about Rosie was not his idea of a pleasant conversation. He head hurt now and he still felt a little tipsy.

"All right," said Sam quietly. He blew the candles out and silently left the room. He felt sick. Frodo wasn't telling him something important, he felt sure. Something so painful that Frodo couldn't tell to his dearest of friends. What could it possibly be? wondered Sam. He let himself out of Bag End and closed the door with a click.

Frodo lay in bed, listening to Sam leave. He hugged the hot water bottle tightly, imagining it was the lovely warmth of Sam. He wondered hazily what dark nightmares he would have tonight, if he got to sleep at all.

End of Chapter 4

To be continued....