Frodo awoke very early the next morning, unsure why he did so. He yawned, got dressed, and then walked to the kitchen. He decided to make his own breakfast. He never had the heart to tell Sam, but his eggs were a bit...on the runny side. He had hidden his three ruined shirts lest Sam find them. Anyway, Sam had been doing a lot lately. He just hoped he wouldn't go on about "Mr. Frodo is a gentlehobbit if there ever was one and he hadn't ought to go botherin' himself about no breakfast!". He chuckled. It wasn't a bother, really. He was just setting a pot of tea on, when he noticed Gandalf was sitting in his chair, as if he hadn't moved at all from the previous night.
"You're up early, Gandalf!" he called. But there was no answer. He went into the parlor. "Gandalf, did you fall asleep in your chair?" he said. He gently shook the wizard's arm. The scream that came into his throat never passed his lips.
Samwise Gamgee rushed over several hours later, rubbing his sleep-filled eyes. He had slept late accidentally, and that did not happen often.
"Sam Gamgee, if Mr. Frodo's gone and starved because you hadn't fixed him breakfast..." He opened the door and was greeted by a wall of smoke.
"Mr. Frodo!" he shouted. There was no answer. "Don't worry Mr. Frodo! Sam's coming!" He rushed in the kitchen and hurriedly took the sausages off the fire.
"Now look Gamgee, poor old Mr. Frodo's gone and burnt his sausage! What would me Gaffer say to that?" He started opening windows and wandered into the parlor.
"Hullo Mr. Gandalf sir! Have you seen Mr. Frodo?" There was no answer. Sam wondered how he could have slept through all that smoke.
"Mr. Gandalf?" he said louder. "Are you awake?" He touched him gently on the shoulder. He barely had time to think let alone react when the he was grabbed with a grip more powerful than iron.
Merry, feeling some sort of obligation for filching Frodo's Old Winyards had went and, well, 'borrowed' a few vegetables from Farmer Maggot and was taking them to Bag End to pay Frodo back. He noticed that the door was half open, and the air smelled faintly like smoke. He walked cautiously inside.
"Hello?" he called. "Now that's odd," he muttered. "Not like Frodo to sleep in so late. And Sam isn't here?" He set the vegetables on the table and started looking around. He walked into the parlor and saw Gandalf seated, seemingly asleep. He felt a tugging, as if someone were steering him away from the wizard.
"Gandalf?" he said. "Have you seen Sam and Frodo?" He was very close, within arms reach. The tugging became more urgent. As if to prove himself against a dare, he reached out. A hissing like that of snakes and he was gone.
Pippin was on a nice little mid-morning walk to get up a healthy appetite for Breakfast, Second and First, and he happened to go past Bag End.
"I might as well pop in and see my dear cousin Frodo," he said to himself. "Who knows, he might ask me to stay for a glass or two of Old Winyards!" He walked in. On the kitchen table was a basket of vegetables.
"Now isn't that nice! I wonder if he left these here for me?" said Pippin. He took a carrot and noticed the burnt pan in the sink. It looked as if Frodo had tried to cook breakfast again. Why couldn't he just give it up and let Sam do the cooking? It had gone on for as long as Pippin could remember: Frodo would get up earlier and earlier in a futile attempt to beat Sam, but he had always lost. Sam seemed to have a sort of sixth sense about his master's every need and want.
Pippin wandered into the parlor on his way to the wine cellar, and he saw Gandalf.
"Well hello Gandalf! When did you get here?" he cried. But the wizard was unresponsive. Pippin almost went over and shook him, but something about the way he was laying troubled him. That slackness of jaw, the peaceful expression, that pale hue, it was familiar somehow. He tremblingly stretched out his hand.
Bwahahaha!
"You're up early, Gandalf!" he called. But there was no answer. He went into the parlor. "Gandalf, did you fall asleep in your chair?" he said. He gently shook the wizard's arm. The scream that came into his throat never passed his lips.
Samwise Gamgee rushed over several hours later, rubbing his sleep-filled eyes. He had slept late accidentally, and that did not happen often.
"Sam Gamgee, if Mr. Frodo's gone and starved because you hadn't fixed him breakfast..." He opened the door and was greeted by a wall of smoke.
"Mr. Frodo!" he shouted. There was no answer. "Don't worry Mr. Frodo! Sam's coming!" He rushed in the kitchen and hurriedly took the sausages off the fire.
"Now look Gamgee, poor old Mr. Frodo's gone and burnt his sausage! What would me Gaffer say to that?" He started opening windows and wandered into the parlor.
"Hullo Mr. Gandalf sir! Have you seen Mr. Frodo?" There was no answer. Sam wondered how he could have slept through all that smoke.
"Mr. Gandalf?" he said louder. "Are you awake?" He touched him gently on the shoulder. He barely had time to think let alone react when the he was grabbed with a grip more powerful than iron.
Merry, feeling some sort of obligation for filching Frodo's Old Winyards had went and, well, 'borrowed' a few vegetables from Farmer Maggot and was taking them to Bag End to pay Frodo back. He noticed that the door was half open, and the air smelled faintly like smoke. He walked cautiously inside.
"Hello?" he called. "Now that's odd," he muttered. "Not like Frodo to sleep in so late. And Sam isn't here?" He set the vegetables on the table and started looking around. He walked into the parlor and saw Gandalf seated, seemingly asleep. He felt a tugging, as if someone were steering him away from the wizard.
"Gandalf?" he said. "Have you seen Sam and Frodo?" He was very close, within arms reach. The tugging became more urgent. As if to prove himself against a dare, he reached out. A hissing like that of snakes and he was gone.
Pippin was on a nice little mid-morning walk to get up a healthy appetite for Breakfast, Second and First, and he happened to go past Bag End.
"I might as well pop in and see my dear cousin Frodo," he said to himself. "Who knows, he might ask me to stay for a glass or two of Old Winyards!" He walked in. On the kitchen table was a basket of vegetables.
"Now isn't that nice! I wonder if he left these here for me?" said Pippin. He took a carrot and noticed the burnt pan in the sink. It looked as if Frodo had tried to cook breakfast again. Why couldn't he just give it up and let Sam do the cooking? It had gone on for as long as Pippin could remember: Frodo would get up earlier and earlier in a futile attempt to beat Sam, but he had always lost. Sam seemed to have a sort of sixth sense about his master's every need and want.
Pippin wandered into the parlor on his way to the wine cellar, and he saw Gandalf.
"Well hello Gandalf! When did you get here?" he cried. But the wizard was unresponsive. Pippin almost went over and shook him, but something about the way he was laying troubled him. That slackness of jaw, the peaceful expression, that pale hue, it was familiar somehow. He tremblingly stretched out his hand.
Bwahahaha!
