"You're feeling better, (y/n)?" Sam asks you.
For the past few days, you had spent your time inside, being 'ill.'
In all truth, you hadn't been feeling yourself lately. And who can blame you? All that alcohol had hit you pretty hard. Oh, and that marriage thing. You still haven't really accepted your situation yet. Lying around in bed for days hadn't really helped, but it had gotten your mind off things. You helped about in the garden a little, when you were feeling up to it, or sometimes sat to sing by the piano, with your own accompaniment or your father's.
"Uh, fine, I suppose." You smile, placing your mug of tea onto the nearby coffee table.
"Ahh, that's good. We were all gettin' worried 'bout what 'ad 'appened."
"Y-you were?" The comment takes you back a little, sparking a small amount of hope. Did Frodo care where or how you were?
"Of course! But then, Mr. Frodo did say all that drinkin' wouldn't do ya any good."
Oh. Of course. He just though you were being irresponsible, that's all. Maybe you were, but that shouldn't really be any of his concern. For all he knows, you could be out doing that sort of thing every weekend. He doesn't care.
But he does, so stop being pedantic. If he wasn't bothered, you two wouldn't even be friends in the first place. Sighing a little, you start to subconsciously stir your tea with your finger, nodding and humming along to Sam's conversation when imput is needed. It's nice to see someone again; being coped up for almost a week isn't appealing to anyone. Human, or hobbit, contact proves to be quite refreshing.
"... (Y/N)?"
"Hmm?"
"You're thinking about something important, aren't you?" Sam simpers, messily folding his hands.
"I-I... Yes." I look downwards. "I'm sorry, please continue. I'll listen now, I promise."
"Only if you tell me what's wrong."
You look up at Sam, dazed a little. It'd make things difficult if you told him you were thinking about his best friend like that. "It's nothing, but..." You swallow, gathering your courage a little, "Do you know where Frodo is?"
It takes him a moment to realise, but soon enough, an understanding smile spreads over his face. And then he chuckles. And laughs. The whole situation confuses you, painting creases across your forhead. Did you say something wrong? Had your voice sounded off?
"Heh.. I see what this is all about." Sam takes a moment to recollect himself, still smiling. "'E's at down the pub, sayin' gudbye before 'e leaves. You should hgo see 'im too."
"L-leaves?"
"Well yeah, 'e-"
You're out the door without a second thought.