A/N: I do not own anything related to The Lord of the Rings Trilogy. Have a bit of Sodo, or as other people call it, Samfro. That makes me think Sodo is an offensive word in some language or another…Please read and review :)

Garden Nights

"Frodo! Frodo! Frodo!"
Sam could hear the chant, filtering through the night up the twisting lanes and across the lush green fields to where he sat on a log in Bag End's garden. The young Hobbit shifted, repositioning the rake he held- a nod in the direction of his excuse to beg off going to the party. Of course, technically he wasn't the gardener anymore; Frodo had made sure to change that when they returned from their quest, saying that they'd practically been living with each other for the past few months, so he saw 'No reason to change that, eh?' The thing was, Sam just didn't feel comfortable being in Bag End on his own, without Frodo's presence filling every nook and cranny of the old place with vibrating energy and a light-heartedness Sam was innumerably grateful to witness after so many cold nights of fear. So, yes- Sam half-had the house but he practically completely owned the garden. Frodo always was awful at keeping things alive. Including himself Sam's traitorous mind tacked on darkly, causing a slight shudder to pass through his bulky frame.

Down at the party, music began. As the joyous melodies drifted towards him, muffled by the gently undulating hills, the distant echoes of different notes melded with it, transporting Sam to another time, another place, sitting in the courts of another people while seraphim figures danced with practiced poise and grace.
"Takes you, back, doesn't it?"
Sam started, jerked out of his reminiscences to see Frodo- wonderful, wonderful Frodo- sat cross legged on the ground next to him. His friend's jacket was thrown off, shirt buttons undone to reveal glimpses of the underlying skin, a red flush to his cheeks. Fetching the Hobbit surmised gloomily.
"To when we were with the Elves, and all the songs we sung as we travelled and then the memory takes you…" Frodo's voice, already as soft as silk, wound down in to silence, gleaming eyes focussed on some scene just out of physical reach.
Sam, resisting the urge to gaze at his friend, replied with equal reverence "Aye, that it does."
Frodo sighed breathily, turning serious eyes on Sam "Are you really going to marry Rosie?" he asked.
Yes was Sam's self-trained reaction, his fail-safe. Lie! But he didn't. This was Frodo, Frodo Baggins who was good, kind, brave and asking with such an under layer of heart-breaking sadness that…"No. Not if I can help it."
A blinding grin flashed across Frodo's face, swiftly replaced with a look of sheepish embarrassment that made Sam's hardy heart flip like a pancake. Frodo shuffled around to face Sam, leaning one arm on the log, not twelve inches between their bodies "Sam," Frodo started, his lips wrapping around the name like a caress "I have always been very fond of you, all throughout our acquaintance. One minute I was in the Shire and the next I was off up a mountain with the Fellowship but, most importantly, with you. And through all the fear- which I have no trouble admitting because I do believe you felt it too, otherwise you wouldn't be up here instead of down there drinking the night away- through all the desperation, I came to a realisation. How it took a thousand near death experiences for me to realise it, I'll never know, us Tooks always were strange as I'm sure Gandalf- sorry, I'm waffling, warbling, erm,"
Frodo broke off, fresh red colouring his cheeks.
"It's alright." Sam reassured him dazedly. I like your voice.
"Thank-you." Frodo replied, sounding equally as star struck "Anyhow, the point is, I realised that not only do I love you, I am very much in love with you, Samwise Gamgee and I suspect you reciprocate the feeling." The Hobbit finished, all in a rush and adorably flustered.

Sam blinked. He was unable to do anything else, process anything other than the fact that Frodo loves me. His body was flowing with joy, like a great damn had been breached and all the feelings he had locked up away from harm were skipping through his limbs like wildfire.
"You…you do reciprocate the feelings…don't you, Sam?" Frodo prodded, radiating nervousness.
Sam began to cry, big, fat tears rolling down his cheeks and on to his shirt. He covered his grinning mouth with his hand, nodding slowly, savouring the moment.
Frodo didn't seem to get the message, eyes widening "Erm…Sam? Are you alright."
He just dove to the floor, enveloping Frodo in a python hug, curly head buried in the crook of the shorter man's neck. Frodo froze for a second before his arms came around Sam, clinging tightly and sending every part of his body from the top of his head to the tips of his toes tingling.
Eventually, Sam pulled back enough to cup Frodo's head in his broad hands "I love you." He whispered and was only allowed a moment to rejoice in the look in those beautiful blue eyes before Frodo was kissing him, passionately. Sam- or maybe Frodo as-well- groaned as their lips danced. Groaned in ecstasy because finally he was living what he had dreamed about a thousand times before.
"Oh, Sam."
Somehow, his shirt had disappeared.