Disclaimer, I do not own Sam or Frodo, I am just borrowing them. I do not own Bag End, I am just borrowing it. As a matter of fact, I only own the plot.

I woke up with the worst headache that I had ever had. My eyes ached, even my sinuses hurt. But I also had a lot of work to do. The hedges needed to be trimmed and watered. I needed to work on the grass in front of Bag End; it was getting a little shaggy in the front. I reached for the glass of water that I always had on my bedside table, "Add sore throat to my growing list of pains." I thought to myself as I tried to swallow. I swung my legs over the edge of my bed and stood shakily to my feet. "Whoa." I braced myself up against my bedpost as all the blood in my entire body rushed to my head. I felt dizzy, weak, almost. My nose was stuffy, yet runny at the same time. I sniffed, rummaging through my dresser for clean handkerchiefs and a hat, a warm, thick hat. It was still fairly early spring and I was so cold this morning.
When I got to Bag End, Mr. Frodo was already waiting for me, his arms folded across his chest, face stern. "You're late, Sam." I felt the blush that I could never control rise to my cheeks, but when I looked up, I saw that he was smiling. "Your breakfast is getting cold. Come inside and sit by the fire, there is still a chill in the air. Judging from your red nose and cheeks, you feel it, too. I made bacon and toast with marmalade, flapjacks as well as oatmeal, I hope you're hungry."
I was anything but, actually, but I did need my strength for my work, that seemed endless today, for some reason. I usually liked working at the house, near the kindest master that anyone could ask for, but today it all seemed so unimportant, somehow. I took a little bit of everything, managed to force it down, then headed out the door to the small hobbit-hole that served as a gardening shed.
I started off to trim the hedges and felt this horrible prickling in my nose. I fished out one of my handkerchiefs and sneezed into it three times. That left me reeling and feeling light-headed. I chose to ignore it and get on with my work.
Two hours later, I was finished with the hedges and began work on the grass in the front of the windows. I didn't even notice that Mr. Frodo was watching me until I sneezed again. "That is the sixth time you've sneezed since I've been out here, Samwise Gamgee. Aren't you feeling well?"
"Yes Master Frodo, I'm feeling fine." I lied to my employer, and felt horrid about it, but all the same, I continued my lie, "Just a little something up my nose, that's all." I sneezed again for good measure. Mr. Frodo eyed me with a of bit suspicion but said nothing, as I sneezed for an eighth time, "Come in and have some lemonade Sam, it's too warm out here for heavy labor without some refreshment."
I hadn't noticed that it had, indeed, gotten much warmer when the sun came up more. I was still chilled. I groaned inwardly, guessing that that meant I was really getting sick. I had too much to do to get sick, though. I followed Mr. Frodo into the hobbit-hole for lemonade and gingerbread. I drank the lemonade gratefully, but I wasn't hungry, so I didn't eat. I looked up to see my boss looking at me intently as I pushed myself up from the table, "Well, I s'pose I'd best get to work again. That grass ain't gonna cut it's self, ya know."
"Sam, have a seat. I think the grass can wait for a little while, let's have a talk. Now, how are you really feeling?"
Trapped, I felt trapped. Now I had to tell him. "Master Frodo, I ain't feelin' too good. My head hurts something awful and I feel stiff and achy." I started to cough when I finished my list of complaints.
"Oh Sam, why didn't you tell me that you were ill? I would have given you the day off. I would have given you all the time you needed to get better. You'll only make yourself worse if you don't rest." Mr. Frodo was looking at me in sad disappointment. I felt about two inches tall, knowing that I had upset someone who I love like my very own brother, even if I do work for him. "Sam, I want you to go home. You're sick, and that's where you need to be right now. I'll come over later to see if you need anything, alright?"
"Yes Master Frodo," I hung my head, like a small hobbit who was caught getting into the cookie jar without permission, "I'm sorry. I'll take better care of myself."
He smiled at me, "Good. Make yourself hot tea and then go to bed. Don't worry about coming over in the morning, if you don't feel like it."
I nodded, the small motion setting off my headache more, "Alright, Mr. Frodo, if you think it's for the best." I went outside and began to gather up my tools and put them back in the hobbit-shed. Then I went back inside for my hat. Mr. Frodo walked me to the door and shook my hand, as he always did when I left for the day.
"Sam, your hands are so cold, are your feet as cold as your hands?" He was looking at me with a kind concern that was very warming, so I just nodded, feeling that it was useless to lie to him anymore. "Poor Sam. Get some rest and feel better, ok."
I nodded again as I traveled down the path from Bag End, to my own, smaller but very comfortable, hobbit-hole. Once I was inside, I fulfilled my promise and made myself a cup of hot tea. When it was done, I wrapped myself in my favorite quilt and just let myself feel miserable. I began to sneeze again, thinking, as I pulled out my handkerchief from my pocket, that I was glad that I had enough sense to set down my tea when I felt it coming. Exhausted from the outburst, I settled down against the pillows on my sofa, taking my drink I my hands again. When I finished it I set the cup down. I sniffled, and tiredly dragged my handkerchief across my nose, and then I fell asleep.
I have no clue how long I slept, but the sky was dark and peaceful when I woke up. "I feel awful." I rasped to myself, noting how much more sore my throat was and much more I ached. Considering the fact that I was shivering and hot at the same time, I knew I had a fever. I was incredibly thirsty, too. After I got a drink of cold water, I dragged myself to my bedroom, and cuddled under the covers, feeling every bit the sick hobbit that I knew I was.