for rabidsamfan great books and great librarians go together like - well, frodo and sam!
"Can't."
"Why not?"
"Beggin' pardon, Mr. Frodo, but I can't."
"You never take that for an answer from *me*."
"That's different."
"How?"
"You need to eat up. You were carrying that - that *thing* - "
"And *you* were giving me your share of the food and water. Don't think I don't know it, Sam Gamgee! Just because I couldn't do anything about it then doesn't mean I can't now, and I mean to."
Sam gulped. Frodo's smile had broadened into a mischievous grin - never a good sign, that, for the Master to smile that way. Usually meant he'd have to replant the begonias.
It was bad enough being kept from seeing to Mr. Frodo, but to have grand folk waiting on him - why, his Gaffer would have his hide, and rightly so! Acting like a slugabed when there was Mr. Frodo to look after, and his things would want seeing to, and. . . .
In all truth, though, he had to admit that it *did* feel better lying in bed. He couldn't seem to get himself going, not since the Black Land (he couldn't bear to call it by its name now), and every time he *was* up and about, he seemed to bump into or trip over anything in sight. His limbs were purplish black and blue from it, and his joints ached; lately his feet had even started swelling up, too, as if in protest.
no subject
*cuddles*
Here 'tis. . .
for rabidsamfan
great books and great librarians go together like - well, frodo and sam!
"Can't."
"Why not?"
"Beggin' pardon, Mr. Frodo, but I can't."
"You never take that for an answer from *me*."
"That's different."
"How?"
"You need to eat up. You were carrying that - that *thing* - "
"And *you* were giving me your share of the food and water. Don't think I don't know it, Sam Gamgee! Just because I couldn't do anything about it then doesn't mean I can't now, and I mean to."
Sam gulped. Frodo's smile had broadened into a mischievous grin - never a good sign, that, for the Master to smile that way. Usually meant he'd have to replant the begonias.
It was bad enough being kept from seeing to Mr. Frodo, but to have grand folk waiting on him - why, his Gaffer would have his hide, and rightly so! Acting like a slugabed when there was Mr. Frodo to look after, and his things would want seeing to, and. . . .
In all truth, though, he had to admit that it *did* feel better lying in bed. He couldn't seem to get himself going, not since the Black Land (he couldn't bear to call it by its name now), and every time he *was* up and about, he seemed to bump into or trip over anything in sight. His limbs were purplish black and blue from it, and his joints ached; lately his feet had even started swelling up, too, as if in protest.
~tbc~