Disclaimer: All characters are property of J.R.R. Tolkien
Story Notes: After months of not being able to think of anything to write, I've come up with this. Needless to say, I'm very out of practice so this story probably sucks. Oh well. I'd still like feedback so you can tell me which part of my story sucks the most, or if you actually liked it *gasp* I would appreciate knowing that too. :)
When it came, it always came at night. Frodo didn't understand the feeling, but this was the third night in a row it had come. It had never troubled him three nights in a row before. The feeling seemed to be a mix of longing, loneliness, and some other unidentifiable emotion. It was more than he could bear. Tears streamed down his cheeks and he hugged his blankets to his breast, trying to take comfort in them, but it didn't help. Only one thing helped at a time like this.
Luckily, that one thing happened to be on the other side of Frodo's bedroom door. Joy and relief came to his heart when he heard the knock. Perhaps Sam could sense when Frodo was in pain, or maybe he had simply heard his soft sobbing. It didn't really matter. What mattered was that he was there to comfort his master. When he saw Frodo's tears he came in and closed the door almost all the way so that the light wouldn't disturb Frodo, then sat beside him on the bed.
"What's wrong Mr. Frodo?" Sam asked gently.
"Sam." Frodo reached out to his friend. "Sam!" there was a hint of desperation in his voice.
"There now, Mr. Frodo. It's all right." Sam took Frodo's hand in his own and kissed it. "Your Sam is here."
Frodo sobbed harder than ever.
"Dear master!" Sam sighed. "What's troubling you?"
"I'm so lonely, Sam!" Frodo whispered. His big, blue, tear-filled eyes gazed up at Sam in desperation.
"Lonely?" Sam asked in surprise. "You're lonely?"
Frodo nodded miserably.
"Oh, master, Mr. Frodo my dear! I had no idea!" Sam wrapped his arms around his master and held him close. "I'm so sorry! Can you forgive me?"
"Forgive you?" Frodo asked. "For what?"
"For not being enough to make you happy."
"Oh, Sam!" Frodo wiped a tear from Sam's cheek. "That's not it at all! You're the main thing that makes me happy. I don't know where I'd be without you."
"Then what can I do to help you?"
Frodo looked into Sam's eyes and the feeling of longing and loneliness returned with fresh intensity. He buried his face in Sam's shoulder and said quietly, almost indistinctly, "Hold me."
Sam held his master to his breast and kissed his wet cheek. He felt Frodo's hands on his back drawing him closer still and heard his sobs increasing. Sam gently stroked his dark hair and whispered soothingly, "It's all right, master. It's all right. You don't need to be sad. I'm here with you."
Frodo stopped sobbing and the flow of tears slowed.
"Lie down, master," Sam instructed. "You seem exhausted." Sam put his hands on Frodo's shoulders and guided his head toward the pillow.
"Don't leave me, Sam."
"I don't mean to, Mr. Frodo," Sam smiled. He lay down beside his master and scooped him into his arms. "I'll be here all night. I won't leave."
"Sam," Frodo said.
"Yes, master?"
Frodo sighed and gazed into Sam's eyes, then grasped his hand. "Sam. Oh, Sam."
Sam wiped the tears from Frodo's cheeks. He felt so helpless. Why couldn't be comfort his master? Frodo looked at Sam's lips, then into his eyes. And Sam understood. He placed a hand on Frodo's cheek, stroked it lovingly, then brought his lips to meet Frodo's.
The loneliness that had filled Frodo vanished and he realized what he had been longing for. He pressed his forehead to Sam's and gazed into his eyes, trying to read his reaction to what they had just shared. To his great joy, Sam smiled. Frodo smiled back, then fondled Sam's sandy curls as he kissed him.
"Oh, master," Sam sighed contentedly.
Frodo put his hands on Sam's breast, then unbuttoned his shirt. He ran a finger across the warm skin before wrapping his arms around Sam and using his bare chest as a pillow. Sam rested his hands on his master's back and said, "I love you, Mr. Frodo."
"I love you too, Sam," Frodo replied.
Sam felt Frodo's lips press against his skin for a moment, then the two of them lay there still and silent. Frodo listened as the sound of Sam's breathing became slower and more even. His friend and servant was soon asleep.
Frodo tried to sleep, but, content as he was, it would not come. Sam shifted in his sleep and mumbled something undistinguishable. Frodo wondered what he was dreaming about. Then Sam uttered a word that Frodo clearly understood.
"Rose."
*Rose?* Frodo wondered. *The flower.or Rosie Cotton?*
"Rosie," Sam said as if in answer.
So Sam was dreaming about Rosie. Frodo's heart sank. What did it mean? Suddenly Sam gasped and raised his head. He was awake. Frodo closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep. He could feel Sam's eyes on him, but there was not a good feeling in the air. Frodo became afraid. He felt Sam's fingers fondling his hair with gentleness and love, but also with a hint of uncertainty. He felt Sam's lips touch his forehead, but it felt like a parting kiss.
"I'm sorry, Frodo my dear," Sam whispered, thinking Frodo was asleep. "It's just not right. I hope you'll understand. I just don't love you like that, and I don't think you truly want me that way either."
"You're wrong, Sam," Frodo whispered.
Sam drew in breath sharply, taken by surprise.
*Might as well get it over now anyway,* he thought. "Begging your pardon, sir, but it's just not natural." Frodo was silent. "I love you, Mr. Frodo, you know that. I love you more than life itself. It's a special kind of love that goes beyond friendship, but it's not romantic."
"What is it, then?" Frodo asked quietly.
Sam sighed. "I don't know. It's in between. I don't believe there's a name for it. Maybe tonight happened because we don't know how to label our feelings for each other. If we don't know what to call it, how can we know how to act upon it? But I've been thinking, sir, about romantic feelings and what they're like." Here Sam paused and blushed.
"Go on," Frodo encouraged, even though he was sure he wouldn't want to hear what Sam was about to say.
"Rosie Cotton, sir. I have special feelings for her too, but I've no doubt of what to label them."
"Romantic," said Frodo and winced.
"Yes sir. And it feels differently than how I feel for you. I'm in love with Rosie. I love you, Mr. Frodo, but I'm not *in* love with you."
"I understand, Sam."
"Are you all right, master?"
Frodo sighed. "I will be, but Sam?"
"Yes?"
"Does this mean you're going to leave me now?"
"No, of course not!" Sam assured him. "I'll still be here for you when you need me. That won't ever change."
Frodo managed a weak smile, then placed his head back on Sam's chest. He didn't tell Sam how heartbroken he really was, but he couldn't hold back his tears. It grieved Sam to see his master cry, but he knew that what he'd said was right. Mr. Frodo would see that someday.
Story Notes: After months of not being able to think of anything to write, I've come up with this. Needless to say, I'm very out of practice so this story probably sucks. Oh well. I'd still like feedback so you can tell me which part of my story sucks the most, or if you actually liked it *gasp* I would appreciate knowing that too. :)
When it came, it always came at night. Frodo didn't understand the feeling, but this was the third night in a row it had come. It had never troubled him three nights in a row before. The feeling seemed to be a mix of longing, loneliness, and some other unidentifiable emotion. It was more than he could bear. Tears streamed down his cheeks and he hugged his blankets to his breast, trying to take comfort in them, but it didn't help. Only one thing helped at a time like this.
Luckily, that one thing happened to be on the other side of Frodo's bedroom door. Joy and relief came to his heart when he heard the knock. Perhaps Sam could sense when Frodo was in pain, or maybe he had simply heard his soft sobbing. It didn't really matter. What mattered was that he was there to comfort his master. When he saw Frodo's tears he came in and closed the door almost all the way so that the light wouldn't disturb Frodo, then sat beside him on the bed.
"What's wrong Mr. Frodo?" Sam asked gently.
"Sam." Frodo reached out to his friend. "Sam!" there was a hint of desperation in his voice.
"There now, Mr. Frodo. It's all right." Sam took Frodo's hand in his own and kissed it. "Your Sam is here."
Frodo sobbed harder than ever.
"Dear master!" Sam sighed. "What's troubling you?"
"I'm so lonely, Sam!" Frodo whispered. His big, blue, tear-filled eyes gazed up at Sam in desperation.
"Lonely?" Sam asked in surprise. "You're lonely?"
Frodo nodded miserably.
"Oh, master, Mr. Frodo my dear! I had no idea!" Sam wrapped his arms around his master and held him close. "I'm so sorry! Can you forgive me?"
"Forgive you?" Frodo asked. "For what?"
"For not being enough to make you happy."
"Oh, Sam!" Frodo wiped a tear from Sam's cheek. "That's not it at all! You're the main thing that makes me happy. I don't know where I'd be without you."
"Then what can I do to help you?"
Frodo looked into Sam's eyes and the feeling of longing and loneliness returned with fresh intensity. He buried his face in Sam's shoulder and said quietly, almost indistinctly, "Hold me."
Sam held his master to his breast and kissed his wet cheek. He felt Frodo's hands on his back drawing him closer still and heard his sobs increasing. Sam gently stroked his dark hair and whispered soothingly, "It's all right, master. It's all right. You don't need to be sad. I'm here with you."
Frodo stopped sobbing and the flow of tears slowed.
"Lie down, master," Sam instructed. "You seem exhausted." Sam put his hands on Frodo's shoulders and guided his head toward the pillow.
"Don't leave me, Sam."
"I don't mean to, Mr. Frodo," Sam smiled. He lay down beside his master and scooped him into his arms. "I'll be here all night. I won't leave."
"Sam," Frodo said.
"Yes, master?"
Frodo sighed and gazed into Sam's eyes, then grasped his hand. "Sam. Oh, Sam."
Sam wiped the tears from Frodo's cheeks. He felt so helpless. Why couldn't be comfort his master? Frodo looked at Sam's lips, then into his eyes. And Sam understood. He placed a hand on Frodo's cheek, stroked it lovingly, then brought his lips to meet Frodo's.
The loneliness that had filled Frodo vanished and he realized what he had been longing for. He pressed his forehead to Sam's and gazed into his eyes, trying to read his reaction to what they had just shared. To his great joy, Sam smiled. Frodo smiled back, then fondled Sam's sandy curls as he kissed him.
"Oh, master," Sam sighed contentedly.
Frodo put his hands on Sam's breast, then unbuttoned his shirt. He ran a finger across the warm skin before wrapping his arms around Sam and using his bare chest as a pillow. Sam rested his hands on his master's back and said, "I love you, Mr. Frodo."
"I love you too, Sam," Frodo replied.
Sam felt Frodo's lips press against his skin for a moment, then the two of them lay there still and silent. Frodo listened as the sound of Sam's breathing became slower and more even. His friend and servant was soon asleep.
Frodo tried to sleep, but, content as he was, it would not come. Sam shifted in his sleep and mumbled something undistinguishable. Frodo wondered what he was dreaming about. Then Sam uttered a word that Frodo clearly understood.
"Rose."
*Rose?* Frodo wondered. *The flower.or Rosie Cotton?*
"Rosie," Sam said as if in answer.
So Sam was dreaming about Rosie. Frodo's heart sank. What did it mean? Suddenly Sam gasped and raised his head. He was awake. Frodo closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep. He could feel Sam's eyes on him, but there was not a good feeling in the air. Frodo became afraid. He felt Sam's fingers fondling his hair with gentleness and love, but also with a hint of uncertainty. He felt Sam's lips touch his forehead, but it felt like a parting kiss.
"I'm sorry, Frodo my dear," Sam whispered, thinking Frodo was asleep. "It's just not right. I hope you'll understand. I just don't love you like that, and I don't think you truly want me that way either."
"You're wrong, Sam," Frodo whispered.
Sam drew in breath sharply, taken by surprise.
*Might as well get it over now anyway,* he thought. "Begging your pardon, sir, but it's just not natural." Frodo was silent. "I love you, Mr. Frodo, you know that. I love you more than life itself. It's a special kind of love that goes beyond friendship, but it's not romantic."
"What is it, then?" Frodo asked quietly.
Sam sighed. "I don't know. It's in between. I don't believe there's a name for it. Maybe tonight happened because we don't know how to label our feelings for each other. If we don't know what to call it, how can we know how to act upon it? But I've been thinking, sir, about romantic feelings and what they're like." Here Sam paused and blushed.
"Go on," Frodo encouraged, even though he was sure he wouldn't want to hear what Sam was about to say.
"Rosie Cotton, sir. I have special feelings for her too, but I've no doubt of what to label them."
"Romantic," said Frodo and winced.
"Yes sir. And it feels differently than how I feel for you. I'm in love with Rosie. I love you, Mr. Frodo, but I'm not *in* love with you."
"I understand, Sam."
"Are you all right, master?"
Frodo sighed. "I will be, but Sam?"
"Yes?"
"Does this mean you're going to leave me now?"
"No, of course not!" Sam assured him. "I'll still be here for you when you need me. That won't ever change."
Frodo managed a weak smile, then placed his head back on Sam's chest. He didn't tell Sam how heartbroken he really was, but he couldn't hold back his tears. It grieved Sam to see his master cry, but he knew that what he'd said was right. Mr. Frodo would see that someday.