The next morning

Frodo awoke in the dark. No, not total dark. There was light coming from somewhere. He blinked and located the source of the light. A small fire was burning in the fireplace. He cleared his sore throat.

“Can you hear me yet, Mister Frodo?” a quiet male voice came from somewhere beside his bed. The voice was comfortingly familiar. With a turn of his head he could see Sam sitting in a little wooden chair beside a small table.

“Hello Samb,” Frodo croaked out. He sniffed and cleared his tight throat again. “What time bis it?”

“Oh, a bit before five bells,” Sam said. He yawned. “Want some water?”

“Yes, please,” Frodo sniffled. “My mouth tastes like an orc army spent da night camped out in it.” Frodo pulled his arms out from under the covers and noticed a bandage on his left arm. It didn’t hurt though. But he was naked under the sheets. What happened to his clothes? Frodo attempted to sit up in bed, and was rewarded with a dull pain in his left thigh. And he had a massive headache and his right buttocks cheek hurt. What had happened?

Sam helped him sit upright, then handed him a mug of water. The cool liquid felt wonderful sliding down his raw throat. Frodo quickly gave the mug back to Sam just as a massive sneeze escaped his nose. Sam nonchalantly handed him his pocket handkerchief. “Keep it.”

“Thanks, Samb,” Frodo blew his nose. “My head feels like it is going to explode. I think I have a cold.”

“I wouldn’t doubt it,” came the cool reply. “You were outside in those wet clothes for quite some time before landing here.”

Frodo looked around the room. He was in the patient’s bedroom at Iris’s place. “Where’s Iris?”

“She’s asleep back in her bedroom.” Sam handed him the mug again. “Drink up. I’ll make you some tea. Do ya want something for your headache, or something to eat?”

“Yes, danks,” Frodo managed a weak smile. Sam did not smile back. ‘I am in SO much trouble,’ Frodo thought.

Sam exited the room to get the kettle boiling in the kitchen for tea. Frodo gingerly swung his legs off the bed and grabbed a dark green robe left hanging off the bedpost. He struggled into the robe, minor aches and pains blossoming as he stretched and moved. Standing wasn’t as difficult as he imagined. However, bending over to retrieve the chamber pot from under the bed was not fun. Necessary, but not fun. Frodo was grateful he was at least mobile enough to take care of business without requiring Sam’s assistance. He was in enough trouble with his smial-mate as it was.

Frodo shed the guest robe and climbed back into bed, careful to not disturb the bandage on his thigh. He noticed a little purple bruise on his stomach. ‘Oh, right. That is where Ted hit me.’ The memories of the attack were all there. Well, at least most of them. He had only vague memories of what he did after Ted stabbed him in the leg and before taking off limping towards Hobbiton. But at least he could remember the fight. Buttocks bruised? Ah – slipping in the ice and falling down. He didn’t remember much after lying down on the examination table at Iris’s offices, but he was glad he didn’t remember that part of the evening.

The door opened just as he was pulling the soft flannel covers up around his naked chest. Sam entered, carrying an earthenware tea service with three mugs. Frodo noted that Sam was armed with a short sword at his side. Another huge sneeze escaped just as Sam placed the tea service on the small wooden table next to the bed.

“Serves ya right,” Sam mumbled.

“Whad?” Frodo said, “me getting a cold or getting stabbed?”

“Don’t be trying to get smart with me,” Sam grumbled as he poured the steaming tea. “It’s you going off and not protecting yourself when you know you should.” Sam handed a mug to Frodo, and poured himself one. He adjusted the sword so that he could sit down.

“You should have listened to me and Merry,” Sam said, blowing on the fresh tea and taking a long sip. “You shouldn’t go off by yourself without an escort. And you should carry a weapon. We’ve told you this time and time again and you still don’t listen. You’re getting lax in your old age and comfort.”

Frodo grimaced. “I listen. I wore the midril coad.” He sneezed. “And I had my walking stick. I did all right.” He took a sip of the hot liquid, grateful for its steam and wetness on his raw throat.

“You do not listen. You near got yourself killed,” Sam calmly said. “You think you can play with fire and not get burned. Well I’ve got news for you, Mister Baggins. That’s not the way the world works. You got lucky this time. There’s a whole bunch o’ bad folk out after your head. Ted Sandyman’s still missing. You need to take precautions like Merry and me said.” Sam put down his mug and offered the goodie tray to Frodo. “Want a biscuit?”

Frodo sighed. “No danks. Did you bring me some clodes?”

“Clodes?” Sam sipped his tea and nibbled on some day-old scones he found in the larder.

“Clodes,” Frodo repeated. “Someding to wear.” He blew his nose, handed Sam his empty mug, and shifted in bed a little. His backside really hurt now that he was awake. “And where is dat tea for my headache?”

“Yes, I brought you some fresh clothes. And I brought your pony so I won’t have to lug you all the way uphill to Bag End. But don’t be changing the subject,” Sam looked at him sideways. “I’m not giving you your clothes until you and I have a little talk.” He handed Frodo the extra mug of tea.

Frodo drank it down in one gulp. It was a familiar bitter tea. “Samb? Could I hab another cup of tea, please?”

Sam poured a second mug of regular mint tea, handed it to Frodo, and then continued his lecture. ”Look here, Mister Frodo. You can’t keep thinking you can go back to livin’ the way you did before the Quest. The world ain’t the same. You’re an important person in Middle Earth, whether you want to admit it or not. We have to protect you, but it sure ain’t easy with the way you behave.”

Frodo rubbed his aching forehead. “Samb. You sound like Bilbo lecturing me that time I broke my arm. Of all the people in Middle Eard, I am probably the one who most knows dat the world has changed.” He looked at his friend. “You hab no idea how difficult it has been for me to return to the Shire and try to rebuild my life here. Look, I do not want to be known here as the Ringbearer. I want to be known simply as Frodo Baggins of Bag End. I do not want to be treated any differently dan anybody else.” He handed Sam the empty headache mug. “And you, my best friend in the world, you hab made my task incredibly difficult.”

Sam crossed his arms in indignation. “What are you talking about?”

“Samb, there are worse things dan people trying to attack me,” Frodo blew his nose again and took another sip of the tea. “There is one thing I am horribly afraid of.” Frodo looked into his mug in embarrassment. “Samb, I have a wolf in my own head. It is me dat I am afraid of. Me. I am more of a threat to those I love than any outside force. I am afraid I am one day going to loose control of myself and hurt you or Rose. And dat would kill me more surely than any assassin’s blade.”

“Well I’m not sayin’ ignore that either,” Sam placed his callused brown hand on Frodo’s bandaged arm. “You are doing better now that you’re seeing Miss Iris again. But Mister Frodo, you have to take into consideration specific threats now. Now’s not the time to be ridin’ off around Middle Earth as if nothing’s wrong. You’re practically daring anybody with a weapon and a motive to take a stab at you.”

Frodo looked away into the dying fire. “I will dot hide myself away like a coward. I will continue to live my life as I think best, Samb. But YOU are not listening to me. There is a reason why I will dot carry a weapon. I am afraid I will have another … um … episode … and hurt someone. I had one yesterday during the attack and I came very close to killing Sandyman with his own knife. What would have happened if I had a familiar weapon like Sting on me? Frankly, I am quite apprehensive about continuing to live at Bag End with you and Rose. I have this … this … thing inside me and it comes out unexpectedly. I do not want to continue to put you in danger.”

“I can take care of all of us. I told you before that I would not leave you, and I’ll say it again,” Sam sat back into the chair.

“You cannot possibly do that, Samb. You cannot be protecting me for the rest of your life,” Frodo turned to look at Sam, his keen blue eyes piercing into Sam’s soul. “You have responsibilities to your family, and they come first. You and Merry said others could get to me through Iris. I am telling you they could get to me through you. Or Rose. Who is with her right now? Your Gaffer? What sort of protection is that? Samb, you need to be with your family and I need to take care of myself.” He blew his nose again and took another long sip of tea.

“Mister Frodo, you are a natural-born politician if ever I heard one,” Sam chuckled. “You could talk me Gaffer out of his prized roses if you set your mind and mouth to it.” Sam’s face turned serious again. “But you can’t talk me out of this one. I’m right, not you, and you know it.

“You need to take care of yourself,” Sam continued, “and that includes arming yourself when you go out. You would never harm your family, and that includes Rose and me. You carried Sting before, and I know you don’t like it, but you’ve got to start carrying it around with you again. If not for your sake, then for Miss Iris’s sake and my sake. And if you would stay put in Bag End till this reward thing blows over and not go gallivanting off all the time, I could look after both you and Rose.”

“I will dot be kept a prisoner in Bag End,” Frodo frowned. “Not even by you. In fact, I do dot think I can stay in Bag End at all.”

“Now what do you mean by that?” Sam leaned forward in the chair.

“Yes, Frodo,” a soft, feminine voice called out from the doorway. “What do you mean by that?” Iris was in her long grey robe, hair loose and hanging down to mid-back. She stood in the dark, leaning against the doorpost, arms crossed.

“Iris, dis is between Samb and me,” he said, then sneezed.

“Hardly,” came the reply from the dark. “If you have made up your mind don’t you think I should know? Or have you thought of someplace else?”

“What are you two talking about?” Sam asked.

Iris walked into the room and sat on the edge of the bed. “He is partially right, Sam. He cannot continue to live at Bag End and be a threat to you and Rose.”

“What sort of conspiracy is this?” Sam’s voice was becoming edgy with anger.

“No conspiracy,” Iris said. “Frodo and I have been discussing where in Middle Earth he can find some peace and quiet and live out a relatively normal life.”

“Bag End, of course,” Sam said. “It’s his smial. It’s been in the Baggins family for generations! You can’t leave Bag End, Mister Frodo. If it’s quiet you want, me and Rose will move in with me Gaffer at Number 3.”

“No, no,” Frodo protested, “that’s not it, Samb. I would never even hear of such a thing. Bag End is a large smial. It is perfect for you and Rose and your family. I would not have it any other way.” He took Iris’s hand in his. “But I cannot stay there the way I am now and put your family at risk. I need to live someplace quiet and away from the public eye. Somewhere I can be somewhat isolated to write my books in solitude, yet be near enough to civilization so that I do not become a recluse.”

“That’s Bag End,” Sam said, crossing his arms. “I won’t have you moving out because of me and Rose. Bag End is perfect for you, and that’s that!”

“What about moving in here with me?” Iris asked.

Frodo shook his head. “That would hardly enhance your reputation, my lady, even if we are engaged. Besides, Hobbiton is too busy. Too noisy. I never was one for village living. And now my nerves will not take too much excitement. I need to be in the countryside somewhere. Maybe we should leave the Shire entirely.”

Sam had been very quiet during their exchange. He suddenly tilted his head and looked at Frodo. “The solution’s right in front of our faces. If it were any closer it would have bit us on the nose.”

“What?” Iris asked.

“Me Gaffer’s place,” Sam smiled. “New Bag Shot Row #3 is right around the hill from Bag End. It’s a fair walk if you take the road. But if you look at it from a bird’s eye view, the back sections of both smials fair near meet at the center of the hill. We could make a new tunnel and connect the two. That way Rose and me can take care of me Gaffer without him moving inta Bag End and disturbing Mister Frodo.”

Sam placed his hand on Frodo’s knee. “You can keep your rooms and study just the way you please, Mister Frodo. And if you have another of them rough spells, why, we could move you into the guest room at Number 3 through the tunnel. No busy bodies to see or know. No gossips. Nice and secluded and private as you please.”

“Are you sure you could successfully join Number 3 with Bag End?” Iris asked.

“Sure!” Sam said. “It’s the next hole over. Back behind the hill, facing East away from Hobbiton and the Water. It’s real quiet too. And we could build a door between the two to keep it locked, if you think you’ll need it. The other two smials on the road are at least a five minute walk away towards Overhill.”

“Enlarge Bag End?” Frodo tentatively asked. “Won’t the Gaffer object?”

“No! He’ll be happy he don’t have to get out in the cold and wet no more.” Sam was enthusiastic. “You and Miss Iris can jump the broom and move into Bag End all proper-like. You’ll be in the same smial with me and Rose. We can look after each other and get together when ya want. Our kids can play with each other. You can keep your practice here, Doc, and walk between the two. It’s no more than thirty minutes from there to here. That way you can separate your business from your personal life. The front living room of Number 3 could be your study if you don’t want to keep it in Bag End, Mister Frodo. It gets great sunlight in the morning.”

Frodo looked at Iris. Iris gave him a hopeful smile. “It’s closer than Gondor,” she whispered.

Frodo smiled and shook his head. “Samb, you are a most ingenious hobbit. If I wasn’t naked under these sheets, I would stand up and bow to your excellent common sense.”

Sam laughed. “Guess I’ll let you have them clothes after all.”