Sam loves laundry day.

The scent rises from the fine linen of a soiled shirt, and he
lifts it to his nose and sniffs deeply.  His breeches tighten
and he shuts his eyes and dreams.  

There are only outer clothes and linens in the hamper, never
smallclothes.  Frodo is too circumspect to give Marigold the
handling of these.   

Then, one day, his master forgets.  He slips the intimate
garment out and presses it to his lips - and behind him, a
soft voice whispers,

"Sam."
                               
Sam still loves laundry day.

But now, there are days and nights that he loves more.

                                           ~~~~~