"Frodo."

"Mmm?"

"Frodo."

Frodo cracked one eye open and looked up at Sam. "What?" he replied, putting the same slightly insistent inflection on the word as had been used on his name.

"There's a knock at the door."

"Good for the door, then." Frodo rolled over. "There has never been a social call bearing good news at seven in the morning, Sam, and I'm in no mood for any other sort of visit. Now get back under the covers, you're letting all the warmth out."

"It's probably letters for Elanor," Rosie murmured, only half-waking in her comfortable nest of pillows and warm skin. "If that addlepated Fastred insists on writing to her every day that he's off traipsing about the Shire, then she can lose the morning lie-in herself."

"They've been knocking for a good while, now," Sam said doubtfully.

"So why haven't you gone to look, then?" Frodo asked, eyes closed and a smile playing at his mouth.

"Well, it's nice and warm here, and my bones are still right sore from heaving those saplings about yesterday."

"If you're not willing to get out, I don't know why I should be," replied Frodo, letting his fingers creep up to the nape of Sam's neck and trace lightly over the soft hairs there.

"Nobody's getting out of this bed at this time of the morning," Rosie declared with a note of finality. "I forbid it, and we've got enough naughty children in this house without you two defying me as well. So pull that cover up and let a hobbit get some sleep."

Daisy Gardner pulled her parents' bedroom door shut as quietly as possible, tip-toeing down the hallway and letting Sammie back in through the front door. Now that they'd checked for certain that nobody was in the mood to get out of bed, they could do some serious exploring without fear of discovery. After all, nobody was really, really sure that there wasn't treasure hidden somewhere in Bag End.

~

Pretty Good Year | email Mary