Sam left Bag End with the slightly perplexing emotional combination of being quite exhausted and trying to carry himself with the air of someone who'd just been entrusted something special. Bilbo's last words had stuck in his mind...
"Remember, you made a promise. I'm counting on your help, especially with Belle injured."
After such an important proclamation it seemed an untimely moment to rub his eyes or yawn, so he strove to avoid doing either. Instead he focused on Marigold.
"I'm going to deliver the rest of my invitations," he told his sister. "I hadn't finished when I found Belle. Are you all right by yourself?" Marigold assured him that she would be fine, and he went on his way.
His invitations, just a little crumpled from being in his vest pocket all this time, were delivered in no time, Sam having set about his task with renewed vigour. Once he was done, he started on his walk back home. Several things were bothering him, however, mainly Belle. She wasn't usually a clumsy girl, no more than anybody, and she would have had to fall awfully hard to break her arm. Sam frowned. Must've been a big rock she tripped over, he surmised. But he hadn't seen any, had he? No, not that he could remember. And then Mr. Bilbo had told them to let him know if they saw anything suspicious...but it was probably nothing. Belle probably just wasn't looking where she was going. After all, what could it possibly have been?
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"Oh, my god! I care so little, I almost passed out!" --Dr. Cox, "Scrubs"
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