Sam slipped quietly out of Number 3 Bag Shot Row, threading his way toward Bag End. The streets were bare; the night was dark. The stars were veiled behind the clouds. It seemed the snow would fall tonight. It had been awhile since it last drizzled over Hobbiton.

The young hobbit tightened his cloak around his freezing body, sniffling a little in the damp, chilly air, silently lamenting his decision to get out of his house, deserting the warmth beside the fire. He peered over the dark shadows looming behind the trees and shivered a little at his own uncanny imagination. Pace quickened and breath labored, Sam eventually reached his destination.

And he gaped in disappointment.

Bag End was as empty as the street, its dark windows staring at him like a hollow opening of a cavern in the faraway country from fairy tales told to him by Bilbo. Sam’s shoulders sagged. He should have known. He should have known that Frodo and Bilbo were at Brandy Hall now and staying there until the changing of the year, just as they had been doing all this time. It was always like that: the two Baggins celebrating Yule in Hobbiton and New Year in Buckland.

Sam sighed. He had known that all along, had he not? He just did not want to accept the fact that he would be separated from Frodo that long. He did not want to. Sam swayed on his feet. He thought he was slowly dying inside as he felt that his very life was in Frodo’s hands.

I wanted so to have you.
And I wanted you to know.

Tears were brimming in his eyes as overwhelming sensation swallowed him up. He wanted to call Frodo out over and over, knock at the wooden door again and again and again. Just in case.

Sam wanted to read Frodo his verse about how they were walking in the snow.

But there had been no snow this winter.

And that left Sam feeling lonelier.

~ * ~

The italicized parts are taken from the song Soon After Christmas by Stina Nordenstram.