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Sam dragged himself into the Wendy's, making a valiant attempt to shake the dirt out of his hair.
The day had started off rough when he arrived at ButterBur’s Bed ‘N Breakfast to build a retaining wall. One unfortunate thing about being statured so low to the ground is that you are highly susceptible to being buried in dirt slides.
And after getting caught in traffic behind someone going 20 in a 45, he didn't even have time to stop for a shower.
Well, if a manager complained He could always go apply at Dennys again
Not arriving early enough to have supper, he climbed up onto the stool they had so graciously provided, and clocked in. The only highlight about working fast food, he supposed, was that he could finally sit down as he worked; given that he was too short to see the register without it. As long as Sam stayed at the counter, his boss left him alone well enough.
There were definitely a few teenagers here who resented him for that, but frankly he couldn't care less. He'd take any small blessing he could get.
An hour into his shift, a biker gang stomped their way inside like they owned the place. If there were awards given to employees who refused to comment on the complexion of a customer, Sam should win the Nobel prize.
After deliberating for a good half hour, they spent even longer trying to get through all the orders.
“Yes sir, we do have meat on the menu.”
“It's as fresh as you think it is. No, I can't elaborate on that.”
“Last I checked, the bread is in fact uncontaminated, yes.”
“... no, sirs. Wendy is not on the menu. The sign outside is the logo, not our special.”
Miraculously, Sam was able to make it to the end of the line, and coming up last was a frail, knobby old man with tattoos on his knuckles. The man sneered when he saw the total. To his credit, it was the first time Sam saw a price that went above triple digits.
“May you rot in your shallow grave for daring to price items this high.”
“I also love the economy, sir.” Sam deadpanned. “What's the name on this order?”
“Sharkey.” Instead of paying, he pulled over a smaller, even thinner man who reached with trembling hands for his wallet.
“I don’t suppose you take Bitcoin in this establishment?” The goth-looking one asked.
Sam did not grace this with an answer.
“I tried to tell you it wouldn't catch on. But no one listens to me.” He muttered. This earned him a slap, and he finished paying. Silently this time.
Thankfully, the group had left once the next hour rolled around. They did not, however, leave the seating area in good condition at all. And whatever this black, oozing substance was, bleach was not working in getting it out of the leather benches.
As Sam swept under the tables again, he noticed two figures speeding towards the doors. Two identical middle aged men burst into the building. They had the most beautiful faces Sam had ever seen, which was immediately dampened by the mountain of “Save the Environment” memorabilia they were sporting.
Not that Sam had a problem with protecting nature, but he didn't appreciate the number of pins falling onto the cleanly swept floor. And he was sure that most of their merchandise was factory-made.
They ordered a “Vegan Cobb Salad” and lectured him heavily about the plastic containers it was served in, before asking for a bag full of ranch packets and extra water cups to take back to their protest. On their way out, they dropped about half of the ranch packets right outside on the pavement. Sam groaned.
What he wouldn’t give for a hot bowl of chili right about now. Just to take the stress away, if anything.
It was fairly uneventful after that. A few folks in cowboy hats and boots had stopped by at one point. A dad in a hurry to get his son to soccer practice. A shorter, bearded man who could not figure out how to work the card swipe.
At one point a tall, blonde person came strolling in. He was sporting a paper-strawed Starbucks frappe and a selfie-stick.
“This isn't an environmentally friendly zone, sir.” Sam warned him, eyeing the dandelions braided in his hair. “As I was so educated by a few others in your group.”
The man instead made a horrified face. “Oh, do not associate me with them. I would rather drown at sea than find myself wrapped up in their hypocritical propaganda.” At this, his expression turned distant and longing. “The sea… oh how it calls me. Even now I can smell the rich salt coming off of the waves.”
“That might be the fries. We’ve just made some.”
“If only it were my time to join those glistening, grey waters. Then finally, finally I may be at peace once again.” He blinked. “What did I come in here for?”
“I haven't the faintest idea.”
“Neither do I. Well then. I shall search for meaning elsewhere. Have a good day.”
With that, he turned and left.
Sam shook his head. The things people were on these days.
It was only 10 minutes away from his shift ending. And Sam was counting every second. Despite being able to sit down most of the evening, he was dead on his feet.
He didn't even notice when someone else walked in and called out “Sam!”
He blanched. “Mr. Frodo?! What are you doing here?”
“Coming to say hello, of course!” Frodo smiled warmly up at him. Sam quickly hopped down from the stool so they could be eye level.
“Not to be rude, sir, but I didn't think you ate - er - fast food.”
Frodo shook his head. “Well, no, I suppose I don't. Much too greasy for me, you know. Actually, I wanted to talk to you earlier, but you weren't at Bag End today.”
Sam shook his head. Bag End Condominiums were his family's best client. Old Mr. Bilbo always seemed to have some new landscaping project on his mind, and Sam, or the Gaffer, would happily oblige him.
Secretly, Sam suspected that Bilbo might be keeping them around more for Frodo's sake. The young man was set to inherit the properties and was currently living in one of the suites on no charge. But, he was lonely, and being a Little Person, it was sometimes hard to make connections with others. Sam would know.
But he enjoyed talking with Mr. Frodo all the same. Though seeing him appear at his second, less glamorized workplace was odd.
“You wanted to talk to me? Is everything alright, sir?”
“Everything’s wonderful, there's no need to worry, dear Sam.” Frodo gave him a quick hug, and pointedly did not say anything about how sweaty and covered in grease and dirt Sam was. “Actually, I was just talking to Merry and Pippin, and we’re planning to take Merry’s boat out on the lake soon. We wanted to know if you'd join us?”
“The lake?”
“The weather is perfect for it!”
Sam shook his head frantically. “Now, Mr. Frodo, you know I can't swim.”
“Not to worry about that! We have plenty of life jackets.”
“I don’t trust boats, though, sir. Unless, I suppose unless you’d be driving…?” If Mr. Frodo was at the wheel, then maybe Sam could calm his nerves long enough to try.
“Merry will captain it, most likely.”
Well. Shoot.
“But he’s excellent on the water! Why, Merry got his boat license before he knew how to drive a car.”
“That’s still concerning, actually.”
A horrifying thought came to him.
“Pippin will be there.”
Sensing the unease, Frodo patted his shoulder. “Not to worry, friend. I’ll keep Pippin occupied, and Merry’s focus will remain only on steering the boat.”
Reluctantly, Sam agreed to join them. “Only for tonight!” He was not keen on making trips to the lake a common occurrence. Despite this, a quiet night under the stars sounded much more appealing than his family’s small, chaotic home.
Sam and Frodo left the Wendy's, ignoring sounds of a baby starting to cry, as well as what could've been someone in the kitchen also starting to cry.
Sam trudged through the parking lot, dragging a bag of trash which had snagged somewhere and was slowly exuding a putrid stream of soda, ice cream, and raw chicken juice. Not only had it leaked across the pavement, but also all over Sam, somehow. Frodo, like any good friend would, stayed very far away. A small bottle of hand sanitizer clutched close to his chest.
The little door on the side of the dumpster had been left closed, so Sam unceremoniously dropped the bag next to the bin, and proceeded to pull a crumpled to-go bag out of his pocket.
Out came a mushy Baconator and small fry, which he tossed into a cinder block behind the bin.
Frodo peered at him, pondering if this was some sort of unspoken ritual of Fast-Food workers.
Sam huffed and tried to shake the trash juice off of his hands.
"If we don't leave a burger an' fry out, this old homeless man will come in the night and leave fish skeletons in front o' the doors."
"That's... odd."
"I seen 'im when I closed up the other night. And the night before. A skinny, naked man foolin' around in the trash. A horrible sight, really. I wish I'd some bleach for my eyes."
Frodo merely blinked at this statement as he followed Sam to his old truck, which had been lovingly nicknamed Bill.
"You know," Frodo said as he pulled himself up into the pickup, "I wonder if there's an epidemic of elderly homeless men going around."
"Don't tell me you've been plagued by one too, Mr. Frodo.”
Frodo nodded solemnly. "I think so... Last Thursday I awoke in the middle of the night to a shriveled creature crawling around in the hydrangeas below my window."
Sam slapped the steering wheel. The truck gave an involuntary honk. The car in front of them made a series of rude gestures. "Is that what tore up those bushes so?! I had just pruned 'em, too!"
"I didn't think it was a person at first, on account of being so slimy and... amphibious... in appearance." Frodo shuddered. "Then I heard him muttering to himself, and I'll admit, Sam, I did feel a twinge of pity for the poor wretch."
"Can't imagine why." Sam mumbled.
"This one also had no clothes, for whatever reason. So I threw out a pair of trousers and locked the window."
"He-" Sam paused, and nearly ran over the curb as he turned the wheel. Seeing over the dashboard could be such a bother sometimes. "Mr. Frodo, this was a grown adult man."
"Yes."
"Taller than you?"
"He was all crouched over, but he did look awfully stringy."
"Mr. Frodo, beggin' your pardon, but you're barely reachin' 4-foot tall, and you gave a pair of breeches to a lanky old geezer? How is he supposed to fit in them?"
"It seemed like the right idea at the time."
Sam shook his head in disbelief. "You know, I'll bet you it's that same Slinker who's been houndin' us! When I saw him last night, he did seem to have… somethin'... a bit squeezed around the waist."
Frodo dug around in his satchel and pulled out a tic-tac. "Well. I suppose the trousers were helpful after all."
Sam huffed again, dragging his hand down his face, before immediately remembering the horrible garbage that had coated his hands earlier, and recoiled in disgust. The truck swerved, nearly taking out a mailbox.
Frodo offered over his Germ-X.
~~
The air was thick with the smell of summer and lake fish as Frodo and Sam jumped down from the truck. Sam's feet ached in protest and he debated just taking a nap right here on the asphalt.
Alas, it seems his hopes and dreams would have to wait, as the sounds of glorified engine revving came into earshot.
Merry Tokyo-drifted (or attempted to, at least) right up to them, double parking his Ferrari 250 Testa Rossa. Custom made for his tiny frame and all bought on daddy's credit card. Not that Sam was jealous or anything, some parents just show their love in different ways.
Merry waved as he strutted over to them. Fully decked out in a visor, aviators, board shorts, a towel around his neck and a Pumpkin Spice Latte in his hand. Pippin sprinted after him, sipping on his own cup of diabetes. Cake pops had at some point been shoved into the cup as well. Sam noted that the passenger seat was covered in plastic. Probably for the best.
“Sam's finally joined us to catch some waves?” Merry grinned, swinging the boat keys on his finger. “Never thought I'd see the day.”
“The water actually seems relatively calm today.” Frodo whispered reassuringly. “Less waves and more just Going Very Fast.”
Pippin nodded his head vigorously. ”Very fast.”
This did not ease Sam's nerves.
~~
The dock rocked back and forth as Merry bounded down the walkway. His initial intent to look like a California frat boy had been overridden by his love for the lake, and he is now happily bouncing between all the different boat slips. Much like a small child would.
Pippin follows close behind him, already sopping wet. He had reached for some turtles who were resting on a boat lift, and gracelessly toppled into the water. Frodo is also soaked, given that Pippin pulled him in when he reached down to help him out. They spent a few minutes flailing and pushing each other around, and came awfully close to getting tied up by the hose in the water.
Despite all this effort, Pippin did not get to hold the turtles.
Sam walked cautiously behind all of them. Making a solid attempt to stay directly in the middle of the walkway while also grabbing onto all the support beams– for support.
Merry led them over to the only well-maintained slip. His father had built up quite the business as a boat manufacturer, and Merry had been gifted an awfully luxurious speeder. Sam wrung his hands tighter and desperately wished to put on a life jacket already.
As Merry lowered the boat lift into the water, Frodo stopped Pippin and held out his hand.
“Phone.”
Pippin rolled his eyes and handed over his– thankfully water-resistant– phone to Frodo. After the incident last month, he had a court order disallowing him to be in possession of a phone while on any water-vehicle. Never before had Sam seen someone go viral on Tik-Tok, get canceled, banned, and blacklisted from the platform in a span of two days. According to his interview on Dr. Phil, Pippin is allowed access to social media again when he turns 21, though Sam knows for a fact he’s kept multiple twitter accounts to troll Sean Bean.
After everyone had been properly equipped with life jackets, they set off.
As soon as they were out of the no-wake zone, three of the hobbits immediately shirked said jackets and Merry launched the boat across the lake. Sam fought to not hurl his lunch over the side. The feeling then reminded Sam that he had not eaten lunch that day. This predicament seemed to make the nausea worse.
Merry was manically hollering as he whipped the boat around a corner, which was only mildly concerning. Frodo was assisting Pippin with the King of the World pose at the front of the deck, although the “coolness” factor was hampered by the fact that Pippin had his tongue hanging out like a dog and his hair was viciously slapping Frodo in the eyes.
“Merry!” Pippin called back, looking like a kid on Christmas. “Ducks!”
‘Famous last words’ Sam thought to himself as Merry turned towards the massive flock of ducks flying directly at them.
~~
Sam tried to relax against the– admittedly very comfy– lounge seats. It was a bit quieter now, though that had less to do with the speed of the boat, and more to do with the fact that Pippin and Frodo were now being pulled on a tube so far behind them that the screaming could barely be heard.
“Ease up, Sam-lad!” Merry hollered, plucking a duck feather from his hair. “It’s a fine day for watching the sunset on the lake! Let loose a bit!”
“Not for me, Mr. Merry!” Sam gripped the seat even more. “An’ it’s gettin’ awfully dark! How are we supposed to see if Mr. Frodo or Pippin fall off!”
Merry laughed. “They’re fine! Even if we lose them, they can swim easily enough to one of the little islands! Pippin’s survived overnight once, he could do it again”
Sam frowned, both at the flippantness and also at Merry still wearing sunglasses, despite the sun nearly being below the horizon. Which had to be some sort of safety hazard, driving the boat in the dark and all.
Looking back, Frodo and Pippin had seemingly transitioned from laying flat on the tube, to standing, to bouncing around while loudly singing Inital D’s “Deja Vu”, to trying to push each other off, then apparently coming to a truce, and now Frodo is laying in the middle with Pippin surfing on top of him.
“Mr. Frodo is always so sensible when we’re about the town.” Sam said to Merry. “What is it about gettin’ near the two of you and a boat that makes ‘im throw caution to the wind?”
“It’s the thrill of the sea, dear Samwise!”
Sam glanced back behind him, momentarily considering how happy Frodo seemed to be on these dangerous waters, until Merry whipped the tube around, causing Pippin to go flying and Frodo being thrown face first into an oncoming wave.
Sam’s shouts were drowned out by Merry’s wild laughter.
~~
The boys had settled down finally, laying back– on the ground much to Sam’s relief– and watching the stars. Merry had found a small island without too many trees surrounding it, and had successfully tied off the speeder. Frodo had enough sense to pack a blanket. Which was not being laid on, because no one else had the sense to pack towels, so he and Pippin were wrapped up together in order to not catch hypothermia again.
Merry boasted that he would– as the real man of the bunch – “Start a fire, to keep everyone warm and protected from the elements”.
After failing this miserably, he instead claimed “it’s really not all that cold. What are you, five? Suck it up.”
Frodo and Pippin did not share the blanket with him.
In spite of the anxiety-inducing events from earlier, Sam could finally admit that, yes, this was a fine night on the lake. Provided that they were next to the lake and not on it. The soft breeze was rather soothing, and the feeling of it blowing through his misted hair was nostalgic in a way. Though he couldn’t put his finger on why.
Merry was laid on his right, propped up on his elbows. An illusion of content, though under his breath he was mumbling incoherent insults at other boats who passed by them. Something about “fools who couldn’t know a proper boat if it ran them over and caught them in the motor blades.”
Still curled up against Frodo was Pippin chewing sloppily on a bread sandwich. Aptly named, because the contents of peanut butter and jam seemed to find itself all over the two of them, rather than on the bread where it belonged. Frodo seemed to have begrudgingly accepted this fate and had his arm around his young cousin’s shoulders.
“How’s about just sleeping out here tonight, lads?” Merry asked them.
“Four poor sailors, stranded upon the deserted islands.” Pippin lamented as he licked jam off of his elbow. “I don’t suppose we’ll ever make it home again. My mother will be grief stricken.”
“Your mother might be glad to be rid of you finally.” Merry chided. “Given that she’s sent you off to live with me as my personal tormentor.”
Pippin blew a raspberry at him. An awful decision, really. As there was now raspberry jam all over everyone, and they clambered to get to the water to wash off the contaminated Pippin-jam. Frodo had tied him up in the blanket as retribution, and Pip was thrashing around trying to escape his self-inflicted sticky prison.
“I should probably be gettin’ home to the Gaffer, soon.” Sam said as he scrubbed his arms. “Make sure that his leg’s doin’ alright. Oh, and I need to check on Marigold as well.” He pulled out his old Nokia, careful to not drop it in the water. “She’s at a party tonight, and I tol’ her to let me know if things go south… She’s been gettin’ creeps tryin’ to ask her out again.”
“We could still sit here for another hour or so, yeah?” Merry asked.
“I don’t want to ruin your evening, sirs, but I do have work in the early mornin’. You could just drop me off near the parkin’ lot and continue your night out here.”
Merry waved him off. “You work too much, Sammy. You old Samwich. It's not good for you.”
“I work a normal amount.”
Frodo gave him a pity laugh. “Bag End is your only client on Fridays, right? No one will mind if you catch an extra hour of sleep.”
“I think my Gaffer would mind very much, Mr. Frodo.”
“Well, would you come with us tomorrow for supper? We’re going to Texas Roadhouse and telling them it’s all of our birthdays so we can sit on the birthday saddle.” Pippin asked as he stumbled over, still wrapped up in jam and blanket. Merry tripped him into the water. It was an awfully sad mess watching him try to get back up. Frodo took a picture.
“He says he wants the ‘Yeehaw Birthday Song’” Grinned Frodo. “Pippin’s words, of course.”
“I’ve got the closin’ shift tomorrow night.”
“And here you say you don’t work too much.” Merry sent him a disbelieving look as he kept his foot on Pippins writhing back.
Sam furrowed his brow in resolved defiance. “Someone has to put Daisy through college, an’ as long as the Gaffer’s leg is out, he ain’t gonna be able to do that.”
Frodo and Merry exchanged a knowing look. They both had offered to help fund Daisy’s schooling, and even Sam’s if he chose to go that route, but the Gaffer’s stubborn pride had continually turned them down. And poor Sam was too honoring of his wishes to ever consider otherwise.
“Well.” Said Frodo. “It is starting to get awfully late. And I was planning on writing more of my thesis before going to bed.”
“You mean, drafting your thesis.” Merry said.
“Writing.”
“You mean, changing your thesis for the third time.” Pippin supplied, helpfully.
“I meant what I said.”
Pippin kicked his knees out from under him and ran to the boat.
~~
Twenty minutes later, after wrestling the captain’s chair away from Pippin, they set off towards the docks. Frodo was allowed to drive until they got to the no-wake zone, under Merry’s ‘’careful’’ supervision.
Now that the energy of the group had died down, Sam almost admitted that the ride back was borderline relaxing. Almost.
They parted ways back in the parking lot.
Under threat of riding in the trunk, Frodo took pity on his poor cousin and gifted his blanket to Pippin so that he wouldn’t ruin Merry’s interior. The blanket was rather jam-stained, anyhow. Frodo said he did not want it returned.
Sam offered to drive Frodo home, and they talked quietly as the wind blew a cool breeze through the windows. Crickets started chirping as they pulled into Bag End.
Instead of opening the door, Frodo turned and grasped Sam by the hand. A slip of paper passing from one to the other.
“Mr. Frodo…” Sam sighed, “I’ve told you how I feel about Pentecostal handshakes.”
“You’re not joining us for supper tomorrow.” Frodo replied as Sam frowned at the folded twenty-dollar bill now in his hand. “So let me buy you lunch.”
Sam furrowed his brow. This was indeed a twenty. However, the folded paper was much too thick to not be holding more secrets inside of it.
“We can’t keep accepting your charity, Mr. Frodo-”
“Not charity.” Frodo insisted, his eyes hardening. “Lunch. As your friend.”
“Lunch.” Sam repeated.
Before the argument continued, Frodo smiled cheerfully and hopped out of the truck.
“Have a good night, then, Sam! Do tell your family I said hello!”
Sam grimaced, but managed to politely wave him off. He glanced down at the money. Truthfully, the water bill for this month had been skipped over in order to replace parts for their lawnmower that had broken down. The mower was needed to keep the business goin’. Water, they could find somewhere else.
Well, maybe if he didn’t tell the Gaffer, it might be alright.
In the end, the water bill did get paid off. As well as the next hospital bill and a textbook Daisy had been needin’.
And on his lunch break the next day, instead of packing a stale sandwich, he went down the road and bought a nice hot bowl of chili.