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The Cat of Bag End  by Elanor Silmariën

A/N: Another Wanderer story for Galadriel, who gave me the idea of the cat playing chess. The idea came to me a while ago for this particuar scene and I just now finished it. I hope you like it! 

~The Nightmares~  

My hobbit seems sad today. I sat by the chessboard nearly all afternoon watching him as he lay on the couch in the study, my eyes asking to play. I even moved a piece with my nose, trying to cheer him up, but he didn’t rise to the bait. He just scratched my ears and said, “Not today, Wanderer.”

I don’t know what is wrong with him. He left for his room shortly after dinner, much earlier than usual, and when I went to follow him, the other hobbit, Sam, stopped me, and took me into the kitchen with him and his mate.

“I know you’re worried, Wanderer,” he says. “I am too, but there’s naught we can do just now.”

I gaze at him, then back towards the door to my hobbit’s bedroom. There is no sound coming from the room. Sam throws me a piece of mushroom from the salad he had made with dinner, and I eat it quickly. He looks away and I stealthily grab the paper bag from the counter that has a freshly baked pound cake in it, and head for my hobbit’s room.

The door is slightly open, so I squeeze myself through, gently closing it after me, and leap onto my hobbit's bed lightly.

He turns over, and looks at me surprised.

I nudge the bag in his direction, and he opens it. I see a small smile cross his face, and purr softly. I rub my head against his arm, and meow at him questioningly.

He pulls me close to him, and sets the bag on his nightstand, taking a small piece out. “Thank you, dear,” he says, stroking my back. He gives me most of the piece, and eats the rest himself.

Moments later he is asleep, and I curl up against his stomach, purring softly.

I awake late in the night to a cry of fear coming from my hobbit. He is wrapped up in his sheets and struggling as though he were being attacked by a stray dog. I leap to my feet, and nudge my nose against him, trying to wake him up, but he doesn’t notice me.

Urgently I hurry out of the room, pushing the door open with my nose and letting myself into the other hobbit’s room. I leap on his bed, carefully stepping around the hobbit-lass, and begin to lick his face.

He wakes and shakes his head vigorously for a moment. He glances at me, and then is suddenly out of bed, pulling his robe on and hurrying behind me to my hobbit’s room.

I leapt onto the bed and curled up at the end, carefully avoiding the hobbit’s flailing feet.

The hobbit called Sam sits on the edge of the bed and gently lifts my hobbit into his arms, talking to him calmingly.

“Wake up, Frodo,” he says.

I see my hobbit’s eyes flutter open, and he looks from me to the one named Sam. His eyes remain focused on Sam’s face, as Sam speaks to him.

“Are you all right, love?” he asks, running his hand through my hobbit’s hair. I take his cue and begin licking my hobbit’s hand, and rubbing against his stomach.

My hobbit nods, then shakes his head, unsure of his answer.

“T’was only a nightmare, Frodo.”

My hobbit nods, then looks down at me with a scared little smile. His fingers find my tail and he begins to stroke my back gently. I can tell the nightmare left him scared and weak, as his fingers are trembling.

A little while later, after the hobbit named Sam talks through the nightmare with my hobbit (a horrific one full of darkness and destruction) my hobbit is asleep in his friend’s arms, head resting on his shoulder. I am lying on his stomach, and look up at the hobbit called Sam questioningly.

I knew my hobbit had nightmares before, but I had never been there when he told about them. I knew my hobbit had been on adventures far darker and more dangerous than any a hobbit or cat could imagine, but I hadn’t known what they were about.

The hobbit called Sam strokes my head gently, and says, “He tries to hide it when he’s sick, Wanderer. He don’t like to disturb me. But it ain’t no trouble, really. I love him that much,” he says, now glancing at the more or less peaceful features of the sleeping hobbit. “I’m glad you came to get me.”

I purr at him, and rub my face against his arm, resting on my hobbit’s chest.

“But, no need worrying on it, right?” he looks at me again. “I’ll be leaving now, then. My Rosie needs me as well. But you can watch after Frodo, can’t you?”

I nod my head, and he smiles. “I would swear you knew exactly what I’m sayin’,” he says.

I smile and laugh to myself, coming out as a purr again to him, then settle myself against my hobbit’s chest as the other hobbit returns to his mate’s side. Yes, I can watch after my hobbit. And I shall do that much more often after tonight.

~The End~





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