Deep Summer by the_mad_hobbit

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Story Notes:

Author's Notes: Coming from a very warm place as I do, I can understand Frodo’s need to do nothing. Being a bit hyper, I can also relate to Sam’s need to be occupied.

It was sizzling that summer, leaving even the most laid back lad or lass in utmost sympathy with a potato consigned to a boiling pot. 
Frodo spent most of his daylight hours in a tree, estivating on a branch hanging over The Water, frequently in a languid stupor from which he could rouse himself only with the greatest effort.  It was, of course, seldom necessary to  do said rousing since everyone around him, save his little serving lad, shared his drowsy, dreamlike state.  Said lad, currently restive among the roots of his master’s roost, wondered how all the gentry languished so as he fretted at his own enforced idleness.
“Sir? Shouldn’t  we be doin’ somethin’ on this fine day, waterin’ the beans or weedin’ the tomatoes, or summat?” He pled, begging his master and Fate for the next chance to serve.
“No, Sam,” Young Frodo answered, thinking the effort the lad put into such a speech too much for the heat of the day. “Why don’t you settle in the shade for a while?”
“Shall I bring you a cold drink, sir?” Sam paced, wringing his small but able hands. “I think Cook had some molasses cookies in the kitchen. Wouldn’t a couple go down right smart?”
  “Not right now, Sam,” Frodo responded, too sleepy to lift his head from the branch where it slumped. “I think another nap is the order of the day.” Like the rest of Buckland, he shifted and sighed and dreamed another summer hour away.

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