"Oh bother!" Sam whispered to himself as he rolled over for what felt like the three thousandth time that afternoon. He was beginning to find it very hard to get comfortable after three days of the strictest bed rest. Earlier that very day, he had had to talk Frodo into letting him walk down the hallway just to use the washroom.

After so long just lying in bed had begun to hurt. It had been three days since Sam's collapse, and already the boredom of his predicament was starting to set in. His mind was forever wandering to thoughts of going out in the garden. He missed being outside with the sun shining on his shoulders, grass beneath his feet.

He looked around the room. There were piles upon piles of books, set close to the bed, so he wouldn't have to get up. There was parchment and a quill with ink, should he feel like writing anything. Flowers on the windowsill and a large pitcher of water on the nightstand. Anything he could have wanted was there, and yet Sam still felt himself getting restless. How much longer would he have to endure this?

With a heavy sigh, he pulled up his nightshirt, exposing his swollen belly. It had finally come to this. Staring intently, watching for any movement at all, he was startled when Frodo came into the room carrying a tray for tea.

"Anything?" Frodo asked with a smile when he saw what Sam was doing.

"No. I weren't meant for such rest, Frodo. It's beginning to drive me mad, I think. I feel better, honest I do. I just need to get out of here, even if only to sit in the garden a while. I feel as though these walls are starting to close in on me." He pleaded, knowing the answers already.

"I know, Sam, and if there were some way we could ensure the safety of the baby and yourself, I would grant your wish in an instant." Frodo said with a sad smile and sat on the edge of the bed. He hated seeing Sam feeling so down. It broke his heart to see the glow that had once been so bright around Sam beginning to fade into despair.

Sam hung his head and covered his eyes, feeling the hot burn of tears begin. Didn't Frodo understand that this was killing him? He cried softly into his hands until he felt Frodo's arms around him. With that, he lost control and gave in to deep wracking sobs. Thinking hard, Frodo grasped for something that would make his love stop hurting so much. Anything.

"Perhaps I could talk to the Healer tonight, love. Maybe he could come and examine you once more, to see if you were able to come for a.... picnic?" Frodo asked while softly stroking Sam's golden curls.

"Could we really?" Sam looked up with his tear stained face, a hopeful look residing there.

Frodo smiled. "Yes, dearest, I will ask for the Healer tonight, and should he pronounce that you are well enough, we will go tomorrow morning. How does that sound?"

Sam closed his eyes and rested against Frodo. "Thank you."

The Healer had come that night, and examined Sam thoroughly. Finding that the baby was faring well, and Sam had promised to take it easy, and to be extra careful, he had permitted the bed rest command to be lifted.

"I still don't like the idea of you riding out into the wilds somewhere, just be careful. Should your pains begin again, I am not sure I would be able to stop them!" The Healer had warned.

Both Frodo and Sam vowed to be careful. They would take a small cart, so Sam wouldn't have to walk anywhere. Neither had any intentions of doing anything that could possibly harm the baby. Sam could feel the excitement and anticipation building within him. He would finally be able to leave Bag End again, and alone with Frodo. Oh! The possibilities!

With thoughts of all they might do the next morn rushing around in his head, Sam lay back and closed his eyes. He began to think of all the things they could pack, and how nice it would feel to lie in the grass, cuddled close to Frodo. Dreamily he thought of listening to Frodo reading with the sun beating down on them, as they had done so many times before.

The cart ride was less comfortable than Sam had remembered it ever being before. The constant bumping was causing him to feel rather ill, and when they reached the small pond and finally stopped, Sam was more than relieved. It was truly beautiful here, and worth the discomfort to come.

The water sparkled with the sun's hot rays, and was smooth as glass. There was a large willow tree at one end, with branches bending so low they touched the water. Daisies and buttercups grew on the gentle sloping banks, and Sam smiled to see them dance in the gentle breeze.

They lay out their meal under the shade of the willow, and ate happily to their fill. It had been a long time since Sam had been able to pull Frodo away from business in Hobbiton, and he meant to make the most of it. He loved the way that the sun lit up his partners dark curls and glistened in his eyes.

He watched Frodo, bathed in the dappled sunlight that came through the boughs. He felt a longing stir within him, a longing that had laid quiet for a long time. How could he think such thoughts? He had promised to take things easy, not to exert himself in any way, and here he was thinking such impure thoughts about Frodo.

Sam forced his gaze away, and released a frustrated sigh. He was being forced to give up so much for this child, but it would all be worth it in the end, wouldn't it? Humming softly to himself, he lay back against a large root and closed his eyes.

Concentrating on the sound of his own voice, and the feeling of his hands over his stomach, Sam had almost lost track of where he was. The sun felt good as it warmed his legs, and he found himself beginning to wish he had brought his pipe with him. To be able to spend a lazy afternoon beneath the shade of the willow, and enjoy the taste of fine pipeweed would have simply been blissful. He thought of afternoons long ago, when he and Frodo had been young.

The sound of a large splash pulled him from his daydreams.