A/N: This is my first Frodo/Sam FanFic so please be kind.:) Please read and review!

Disclaimer: All characters, places etc belong to the wonderful Tolkien. We are not worthy!

The light from the evening sun was pouring in from the open window, and outside the first twittering beginnings of a nightingale's song could be heard. The light illuminated the sleeping hobbit's weary face, pale and bruised, with lines of worry creasing in his brow and around his eyes.

Sam watched his master's face, so troubled even in sleep. He wished so much that he would wake up, but knew that Frodo needed rest and rather than trying to wake him, Sam had spent every day and night since he woke, sitting by Frodo's bedside.

He looks like an angel, Sam thought as he watched a small smile appear on his dreaming face. Who'd've thought that he'd been through so much pain?

There was a small knock on the door and Sam looked up quickly. With a small muttered apology, one of the servants of Gondor busily hurried in, bowed and said, "Mr. Gamgee, Mithrandir asked me to bring you some fresh food and drink."

"Mithrandir?" Sam asked puzzled, unaware of Gandalf's more formal title.

"The White Wizard, Sir," the servant answered humbly. "I was unsure of what food a hobbit would desire, so I brought a selection. If there is anything else you require Sir, just ask." With a second, deeper bow, the servant left the room, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Sam sat very still, looking in wonder at the delights that the servant had brought in. For the past few days, Sam had been too tired and too ill to keep anything more than bread and water down, but he felt a lot stronger since the morning and the treats on the lavish tray made his mouth water.

There was a large blue bowl full of succulent pieces of fruit: apples, cherries, pears and what seemed to be a variety of strawberries, but they were much larger and redder than the ones found in the Shire. There was a plate which was covered in large slabs of pork and beef, and delicious-looking chicken legs. Next to the meats was a big slab of crusty bread, with jars of butter, marmalade and jam next to it. Sam also noticed that there were pale cheeses, which smelt extremely buttery, and an enormous pie, an apple one Sam judged by the smell, which was decorated on the side with a generous helping of thick white cream.

He stared at the food, hunger stirring in his undernourished belly, and a thirst in his throat as he looked at the drinks that were placed gently on the tray. A bottle of dark green and rich red wine, a jug of pure, crystal water and a slightly warm jug of thick milk.

No Sam, he told himself, if you even try a snippet of that there delicious food, you're going to end up eating it all, and then what will be left for poor Mister Frodo? He sighed deeply, turning back to his master's face. He was desperately hungry, but he had waited months for a taste of real food, he could wait a while longer.

Sam sat there his eyes closed, drifting in and out of sleep. Every-now-and-then he would open an eyelid to check on Frodo, and finding him still asleep, would quickly close it again.

As Sam began to drift into a deeper sleep, Frodo began to stir, immediately rousing Sam and sending him to the edge of the bed. "Mister Frodo!" whispered Sam, as he lay a hand upon his master's brow. It was hot and sweaty, so Sam quickly got a napkin from the tray and poured a small amount of the crystal water onto the cloth. As he pressed it onto Frodo's forehead, the small hobbit gave a small whimper and the cold, but Sam held his hand and soothed him. "Shhh, now Mister Frodo. It's alright. Your Sam's here, your Sam's got you."

Frodo shuffled uncomfortably, as if he were hot and Sam pulled back the heavy quilt down to his waist, so that he could cool down. As he did it, Frodo stilled slightly, still muttering, and opened his eyes very slightly. Sam smiled with relief as his mister began to wake. "Oh bless you Mister Frodo!" he cheered and Frodo, realising who was speaking gave a small smile too.

"Sam? Oh Sam, I hope I would wake to find you." Frodo, shifted slightly, aware that he was lying in a very comfortable bed. Sam removed the napkin and Frodo looked around the room he was in. It was very big for a hobbit, as it was a man's room, and the bed he lay in was definitely made for two humans to sleep in. The walls were pale yellow, and as the sun's dying light hit them, it gave the room a warm pale glow. The floor was covered in thick warm rugs, which seemed to made of deer pelts and what looked to be rabbit skins sewn together, to make one large covering, at least seven foot wide. The bed was made with thick oak timber and the quilt and sheets were rich and soft. The pillow were filled with incredibly comfortable goose feathers and the quilt too was filled with the same.

"I thought it stopped." Frodo said mysteriously, more to himself than to Sam.

"Thought what stopped?" Sam asked, replacing the napkin back onto Frodo's head.

"The pain. I thought the pain stopped when you die." He blinked away a tear and swallowed. "That's what Gandalf used to tell me. He said that you would feel yourself gliding over a peaceful blue ocean and ahead would be white shores, and then a far green country. I remember gliding, being up high but…" He stopped as Sam gave a small chuckle.

"Oh bless you Sir!" he laughed quietly, once again removing the napkin and placing it back on the tray. "We're not dead! We were rescued by the eagles! That's why you remember flying, or gliding. They carried us off from that terrible place in their claws."

Frodo stared at his friend, shock and confusion in the expression on his face. "But…I don't understand…I remember the fire and the gas…and you…but…"

Again, Sam chuckled, "Never you mind Mister Frodo, just know that you're completely alive!"

Frodo smiled, tears of happiness in his eyes, and a lump in his throat. He couldn't believe it, he was sure he had died and that he had just woken up in Paradise. Surely, Sam looked like an angel with the light reflecting on his face like that, and only a bed from Paradise could be that soft.

"Perhaps, Sir, you'd like a bit of food, or something to drink. The servant's here are mighty generous with the food. Just look at what they brought in." Sam indicated the tray of food that had been brought in earlier, and Frodo stared at it, remembering that there was such a thing as food and good clean water. "But if you'd rather catch up on some sleep, I can understand."

Frodo swallowed and shook his head slowly. "No, I have a hunger in my belly, that I can scarcely believe. I must have something." Frodo lifted his head and lowered his hands to try and raise him. His weakened muscles shook at the weight, and Sam quickly helped him into a sitting position, his back leaning against the headboard.

"Now Mister Frodo." Sam said, bringing the tray to sit on the bed. "We're really spoilt for choice. I can cut you off some of this bread, or perhaps cut up one of these apples, or maybe some pie…"

"I'd just like some water for now thank you Sam." Frodo smiled and Sam returned it.

"As you like Mister Frodo" and he poured some of that cool water into a glass. Slowly, he helped his master to dip at it, holding the cup to his lips as Frodo's arm were too weak to hold the heavy glass.

Frodo began to gulp it down greedily, enjoying the freshness of the water after having to drink from dirtied streams and poisoned ponds for so long. He broke away just so he could breathe and then drank the last few drops. He sighed as Sam removed the glass and began to slice up the bread, which was dark white inside. Once it was sliced, he spread some butter onto some of it, jam on another bunch and marmalade on the rest.

Frodo picked up a buttered slice, feeling strong enough to hold a piece of bread, and took a large bite out of it. The bread was spongy and soft and the butter was so creamy. His mouth watered as he chewed it and then swallowed it with difficulty, as it was large bite. Sam smiled and helped himself to a slice which was covered in a generous covering of jam. They ate in silence, feeling comfortable in each other's presence and drank only the water, their bodies not feeling ready for the richness of wine just yet.

When most of the bread was gone, and much of the water, Frodo laid his head back and sighed deeply, feeling very full and content. His numerous cuts and bruises still hurt, and his the hand with the missing finger dully ached. Sam had told him how the men of Gondor had worked expertly on his hand and on his numerous other wounds. They weren't as delicate as the elves might have been, but they were skilled and knew what they were doing. He told him how Merry and Pippin were alive and that they would probably visit him soon, as they had when he had been sleeping, and that everyone, including Gandalf, had miraculously survived, against all the odds.

"It's a miracle we're here Sam." Frodo whispered, his sapphire eyes burning into Sam's. "It's a miracle we even made it Mordor!"

Sam nodded, lost in thought, then quickly said, "you should be getting some rest now Mister Frodo. It's nearly night time anyway."

"I've been asleep all day!"

"But you're exhausted Mister Frodo, look at you, nought but skin and bone." Sam helped him lay back down and tucked the quilt up around his neck so that just his head peeped out. "You get some rest now. I'll keep an eye on you."

Frodo shook his head. "Not if I can help it. You will get some sleep as well. How could I sleep if I knew you were awake and tired too?" He lifted an arm out from the covers and patted the bed beside him gently. "Come and lay down next to me. I'll be glad of some warmth and a gentle touch."

Sam hesitated for a moment, knowing that it was not proper for a servant to go clambering into bed to lie besides his master, no matter how much he wanted to.

"Please Sam." It was more like a desperate plea than a request, and Sam obliged, lifting back the covers and laying down next to Frodo. He felt rather uncomfortable, being this close to his master and made sure that he didn't touch him. He didn't want to embarrass Frodo.

Frodo laughed softly and turned on his side slowly to look at Sam laying stiffly on his back. "How long have we known each other?"

"Oh, I…err…I'm not sure Mister Frodo…a long time."

"Indeed, and how many times have you hugged me and held me close when I cried or when I laughed?"

"Umm, well…lots of times."

"So what's the difference if I'm lying in bed?"

Sam said nothing, knowing it was not a question with an answer, and turned his slightly to look at Frodo. Frodo, still smiling groped around under the sheets until he found Sam's hand, and held it tight to reassure him. Sam smiled in return at the sudden clasp and shifted so that he too lay on his side. He wrapped his arms around his master and pulled him close, Frodo's head resting underneath Sam's chin. Frodo gave a small moan and said softly "Sam?"

"Hmm."

"Will you stop calling me 'Mister'. I hate it so much. You know I don't like formal titles."

Sam, half asleep already in the comfort of having Frodo pressed against his chest, whispered "Of course Mister Frodo, of course."

It was very dark when Sam abruptly woke out of a very enjoyable dream. In fact so enjoyable, that he felt rather tight in his trousers. Frodo lay next to him still, muttering quietly in his sleep, occasionally give a low moan or sigh.

Sam didn't dare move, afraid that Frodo would wake to find Sam in this state. He had dreamt of his master; he often did, but it was a different sort of dream when the one you loved lay next to you. He removed one of his hands from Frodo's back and roamed lower to his own trousers. He didn't feel wet, but he wanted to make sure. He was right; he had woken up just in time.

Sam carefully and quietly untangled himself from Frodo and sat at the end of the bed, painfully tight where his erection strained against the cloth. He took a few deep breaths, urging all the thoughts of Frodo and his dream away. It was hopeless, as Frodo was still sighing in his sleep and every now and then would utter a small, helpless moan.

He got up and took a brief walk to the bathroom, where, away from Frodo he was able to get things back under control. He went back into the bedroom, only to find that Frodo was slowly getting up, his eyes squinting in the dark in search of Sam. "Sam? Where are you?"

"It's alright Mister Frodo, I just got up to…err…get a drink."

"Oh good. I thought you'd left. I would have hated to have woken in the morning to find you gone."

Sam lit a candle, knowing perfectly well he would not be able to get to sleep again that night, especially if he was holding Frodo. The glow from the flame was dim, but there was enough light to see. Sam noticed that Frodo's eyes were red and that tears were rolling down his cheeks. "Mister Frodo, what's wrong?"

"It's nothing Sam, it's nothing." Frodo said quickly wiping away his tears with his sleeve. "I just had a dream, that's all."

"Don't you worry about dreams, they can't hurt you." Sam said softly and laid a hand on top of Frodo's. "Dreams are all in the head Mister Frodo, they can't hurt you if they're locked away in your head."

Quickly, Frodo nodded and said quickly "Of course I know, that's why I told you it's nothing." He stopped and looked up at Sam with a small grin, "and stop calling me 'Mister'.

Sam's cheeks went a very bright shade of crimson, visible even in the dim light of the candle. "Yes Mis-…Yes Frodo." He corrected himself.

There was an awkward silence, as Frodo stared deeply into Sam's eyes, almost begging him to say something, while Sam flushed and tried to avoid his gaze, with the sensation that very powerful butterflies were flapping around in his belly.

"Why didn't we sleep with each other when we were in Mordor." Frodo asked sadly, his eyes never leaving Sam. "We never slept side by side."

Sam thought for a moment then said, "It wouldn't have been right, Mis-…Frodo. For two lads to be sleeping with each other."

"Did last night feel right?" Frodo asked kindly.

It felt better than right, Sam thought. "I don't know." He looked away, his cheeks flushing even redder. "It's just that. Well it was strange having you fall sleep in my arms. The last time you did that we were at the foot of Mount Doom, and I thought you were dead. I thought I'd never see those big blue eyes of yours again, or see that elvish smile on your face. I thought I'd never be able to tell you how sorry I was for everything, how sorry I was for not holding you at night while you cried and dreamt, how sorry I was that I couldn't be there for you when those filthy creatures kept you locked up in that tower, that I'd never be able to say that I love you or -" he stopped his rambling quickly, realising what he'd just said.

Frodo said nothing, and as Sam looked at him, his expression had not changed from the kind face that had asked him if last night felt right.

Swallowing quickly, Sam tried to think of something to say, but he felt hot and awkward, even though Frodo did not appear to be troubled. He closed his eyes in despair for a moment and felt a warm hand on his shoulder.

"It's alright Sam." Frodo said. "I know you love me. You always have."

"You don't understand, this is wrong." Sam said angrily, scolding himself. "Two lads aren't meant to love each other…" Sam realised again what he'd said. "Oh Frodo, I'm not suggesting that you're in love with me I just -"

"Sam will you stop rambling." Frodo laughed his face lighting up. "I told you, it's alright. Besides, the elves love whomever they choose."

"They do?" Sam asked quickly, trying to change the subject.

"They do." Frodo nodded. Suddenly, he became very shy, something Sam rarely saw in Frodo, and cast his eyes downwards. "I feel so alone. Even though I know you are here. In my mind, I feel alone."

"I want to help you Frodo, you know I do."

"Then kiss me." Frodo whispered, his eyes still turned away shyly, his cheeks flushing pink.

Sam swallowed hard, and the butterflies flapped harder. "You want me to kiss you?"

"Only if you want to."

"I do."

"So do I."

There was another awkward silence as they both looked at each other, their cheeks pink. Sam once again began to feel tight in his trousers, but not as tight as he had done not fifteen minutes before.

Very slowly, Sam shifted closer to Frodo, still sitting beneath the quilt. He laid a gently hand around Frodo's thin neck, the other at his back and pulled him close. Frodo held a hand at Sam's cheek and looked into his eyes. "I dreamt about you last night." Sam admitted.

"You did?" Frodo sounded half-surprised.

Sam smiled shyly, and leant in closer to place his lips upon Frodo's. It was soft and gentle, a nervous first kiss. They moved their lips slowly, and gently, frightened that the other would break away. Gently, the pace quickened, and Sam gave a low moan as he felt Frodo's tongue brush gently across his lower lip. He opened his mouth and let Frodo's tongue in, tasting his teeth and lips and brushing against the other hobbit's tongue.

After what seemed like a lifetime, Sam reluctantly pulled away to allow himself to breathe, and then once again joined his mouth to Frodo's, the kiss deeper and more passionate. Frodo, still weak, allowed Sam to do most of the work, and he busied himself by making small teasing movements with his tongue and stroking the smooth skin on Sam's cheek.

Gently, Frodo allowed himself to be pushed back onto the pillow. Sam stopped as he realised what could happen next, and pulled away again. "No Frodo, we can't."

"We love each other Sam." Frodo pleaded.

"I know Frodo, but you're weak and I don't want to hurt you."

"Oh Sam!" Frodo laughed gently. "You could tie me to this bed and hold a knife to my throat and I still wouldn't be scared of you. I know you'd never hurt me."

Sam quivered slightly as the image appeared in his mind and whispered, "I wouldn't hold a knife to your throat, if you were tied to this bed."

"That's beside the point." Frodo whispered and pulled Sam down, so that only his chest touched him. "I want you to make love to me. I need to feel something other than pain and loneliness."

He tilted his chin, so that Sam could kiss him again, and Sam obliged, his tongue working in Frodo's mouth, tasting every part that he could reach.

Slowly, his mouth still clasped to Frodo, Sam began to undo the buttons on Frodo's nightshirt, feeling rather clumsy at the delicate pearls and broke the kiss to peer down as he opened the shirt and lifted it over his master's head. His heart broke as he saw the cuts and bruises that scattered his body. He was naked beneath the quilt now, but only his chest was visible. He saw the large scar where the Witchking had pierced him and the whip wounds from the orcs. He ran his hand over the grazes and burns where the ring had hung and lowered his lips to kiss them, as if chasing the pain away.

Frodo moaned gently as Sam caressed his bare skin with his mouth, and he began to feel hot between his legs. Sam was moving torturously slow, but the sensation was pleasurable. He placed a lingering kiss upon the place where the ring had hung, and moved higher up the bed. Sam was still not lying on top of his master, and didn't feel he should until he need to. He didn't want to crush Frodo beneath him.

He kissed along Frodo's collar bone, his reward being a rather high-pitched moan, that he had tried to stifle, and he moved further up his throat, suckling gently and grazing with his teeth. He pulled away, knowing he would have left a love-bite, and sure enough, a small reddish coloured bruise had formed on Frodo's sensitive throat.

Frodo pushed him back, desperate have the sensation back on such a sensitive area and Sam continued to caress his throat.

It was Sam's turn to be undressed Frodo decided, and with delicate fingers, Frodo undid the buttons on Sam's shirt and Sam sat up slightly so that his shirt could be removed. Sam then undid his belt, and rather shyly removed his trousers, as he was now fully erect. He felt his cheeks flush as Frodo looked at him.

"Why so shy?" Frodo asked breathlessly, his hair tousled up behind him. He seemed to guess, so he took Sam's hand and slowly placed it on his own throbbing length. Sam held his breath, pleasure coursing through him, aware how pleasurable that must be for Frodo.

"I'm surprised I have enough blood left." Frodo laughed quietly.

Sam smiled too at the joke and lowered his entire body onto Frodo, who groaned slightly at the weight. Using his arms to prop himself up on either side of his master's face, he captured his lips once more, and slid in between Frodo's legs. However, there was still no skin contact as the quilt lay in the way. For the moment it didn't seem to matter, as Sam began to lightly grind his hips against Frodo, the friction almost unbearable. Frodo moaned his pillow, his head turned to the side so that Sam had access to his throat once more. Sam moaned deep in his throat, the sensation of Frodo writhing beneath him almost too much to bare.

In a quick decision, Sam pulled back the covers and stared for the first time at Frodo's naked body. He was beautiful, pale and covered in sweet perspiration. Sam bent over him, licking off the moisture around his chest and dipping into his navel. Again, Frodo gave a soft moan. Then he lowered himself between Frodo's open legs and moaned heavily as they came into contact with one another. Once again, Sam picked up his rhythm and the moans from his lover beneath him became louder and more desperate.

Between desperate pleas and kisses, Sam managed to ask "Do you want me to…you know?"

Frodo gave no reply except to arch his back and pull Sam harder down on top of him, burying his head into the crevice between his shoulder and neck. So Sam carried on with the pace, his breath coming in short gasps, gradually building up the speed, the friction unbearable, until he came, a hot rush over both his and Frodo's body.

By the shuddering of Frodo's body and his last high pitched moan, Sam knew that he had come to. Between their bodies, the hot sticky substance soaked their bellies and Sam lay heavily on top of Frodo, his breath coming in short gasps.

"I love you so much Sam" Frodo whispered into his lover's neck, sweat dripping onto his lips.

"I know Frodo, and I love you. I have for years." Sam said through joyful tears. "I wish I'd've told you sooner."

They lay there like that for some time, taking in each others' scents and enjoying the sensation of slowly relaxing pleasure. After a while, Frodo, in his weakened form and now even weaker, began to feel uncomfortable by Sam's healthy weight. "Sam, please, lay next to me."

Sam, quickly realising he must have been crushing Frodo, slid off from on top him, took a second napkin from the tray and wiped them both clean. Then he threw the napkin carelessly to the floor, and huddled up close to Frodo beneath the quilt.

Sam lay on his back, both arms wrapped around Frodo as he lay on top of Sam. Frodo sighed contentedly, a satisfied smile on his face as Sam stroked his brown locks.

"When we get back to the Shire, will you come and live with me in Bag End?" Frodo asked quietly.

"Live with you?" Sam asked, "but what would people think! I don't want to discredit your name Sir."

Frodo laughed into Sam's chest. "No-one would care really. They'd say 'Oh look, mad old Frodo Baggins has allowed his servant into bed with him. I always knew that he'd turn out a wrong-un didn't I!'"

Sam laughed as Frodo imitated Farmer Maggot's voice perfectly and said. "Nothing would please me more to come and share your bed in Bag End."

Frodo smile, his cheeks slightly pink. "I know Sam." He whispered. "I know."