Waiting up.

Thinking twice about the front window curtains, Frodo set the lamp on the table before them, then turned toward his study. Unless he missed his guess, Sam would be asking her tonight, and would likely be in need of something nourishing when he returned, whenever that would be. Moving rather slowly— his shoulder had been playing up a bit— he headed for the kitchen and the kettle, finding himself impatient for Sam’s arrival. Frodo didn’t begrudge his dearest friend time with his bride to be, of course, but… it would do him good, he knew, to hear some good news.