Something wanted to wake him up, and Sam was fighting it valiantly. *I want to stay asleep!* he thought dreamily. *It's warm and soft here! Let me be! I hurt so...*
"Sam! Oh dear Sam!" That was a voice he recognized, and not for all the gardens in the world could he refuse it. Sluggishly he rose from sleep to open his eyes and found his sight filled with three tear-stained, grinning hobbit faces.
"You're awake!" Frodo burst into tears again, squeezing Sam's hand over and over as he laughed. "Oh Sam, it's so good to see you awake!" Merry and Pippin hugged each other tightly as they crowed delightedly.
Sam laughed weakly. "Oh, Mr. Frodo, it's just wonderful to see you here! I'm glad you're alright. And you too, Merry and Pippin!" He tried to sit up, but slid back down among the fluffy pillows. With a little help from Frodo, he was soon sitting up and squinting into the light that streamed in through the windows. He exhaled deeply as his surroundings came into focus. "What a place! Why, I haven't seen anything this grand since Rivendell!" Unexpectedly, his breath came short into his lungs, and he began to cough weakly.
"Rest easy now, Sam! We're all here and you have nothing to worry about!" Merry clapped him on the shoulder resoundingly and regretted it immediately as Sam winced. It was then that Sam realized he was naked under the covers but for a few bandages wrapped about him. He also discovered, to his extreme discomfort, that almost every movement sent flashes of hot pain through his body. He groaned low in his throat and fell back among the pillows. His sight was failing, and a rushing sound filled his ears.
"Sam?" Frodo gripped his hand tightly, fear in his face. A few tense moments passed as Sam shuddered upon the bed, but they passed quickly. He was soon breathing easily again, though pale and weak. The four hobbits had just started talking again when the curtain flew open and Tasla stepped inside.
"Forgive me, sirs, but your presence is requested by Lord Radik, and Master Gamgee looks like he could do with rest." She smiled sweetly. "You may return after you have eaten and spoken with Lord Radik." She pulled the curtain back and ushered three reluctant hobbits out who left only with reassurances that they would return soon.
Alone, Sam curled up into a fetal position. His body ached, he was hungry, and he was cold. It seemed hours passed in this situation, but it was probably only a few moments before the curtain drew back again, heralding a new arrival. Too sore to move, Sam laid still, concentrating on breathing as softly as possible. The footsteps crossed to the bed, and warm fingertips brushed his forehead. He opened his eyes to meet Anemosi's gaze full on. He gasped and sat up straight, the sheet falling from him as he did so. He gasped again, both in pain and embarrassment as he realized just how naked and sore he was.
Anemosi barely held back a giggle as she saw a blush flooding up into his face from his neck. She must have let some small sound loose, and his large brown eyes met hers, hurt and humiliated. She cursed herself soundly in silence, and busied herself at the bed table to allow him to wrap the sheet around him once more.
"Lady, I'm sorry about that--"
She turned to face him and smiled. "No need to apologize. I'm just stopping by to see how you're holding up."
"Well enough, Lady. I'm a bit sore, as it is, but not that bad." He smiled bravely, and winced as a cut on his face stung him.
"Let me have a look then. I want to see how you're healing up." Before he could protest, she had gently drawn the sheet away from his body.
"Oh!" He gasped, but the expression on her face never changed from concern.
"Lie down, it's easier for me to see...that way." A rosy tint touched her cheeks, and she blinked. *Oh, why is this so difficult?* she asked herself. *You've seen other patients naked before, you fool! Just do your duty.* Thus admonished, she gently removed the bandages on his torso, seeing but not acknowledging the hard ropy muscles that had been hidden by his baggy clothing. Forcing her mind back to her work, she noted with happiness that the wounds were healing cleanly, though they would leave scars that he would never lose.
Sam's head was whirling. In his younger days, he had played the games of chance, of you-touch-mine-and-I'll-touch-yours, but this touch, nowhere near as personal, was a thousand times more erotic. It took a strength of will he hoped he possessed to control himself from rising in response. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly as he felt her deft fingers lifting the bandage on his thigh, so close...so achingly close. *I'm going to burst!* he thought desperately. Just as he thought he could no longer hold out, the sheet was replaced and he opened his eyes with both relief and a deep longing.
She smiled at him, a fragile flush fading from her cheeks. "You're a tough one, Sam. I think you'll be ready to get up and move around tonight." His brown eyes widened, and he was about to speak when she continued. "But you must promise me, Sam, not to over-exert yourself. You are not quite well yet."
He nodded eagerly. "Of course, I'll stay calm. But right now, I think I'd feel so much better if I had something in my belly...I haven't eaten a scrap since before you came to us in the wood, and I'm right famished!"
Anemosi grinned. "You had better not eat too much, Sam. You haven't been eating much lately, I can see, and it would only hurt you to strain your stomach now."
His eyes widened again. A hobbit's stomach, strained? It simply didn't happen!
As she rose gracefully to pick up a tray from the floor next to the door, he took the opportunity to drink in every aspect of her appearance. She was more lovely than he remembered her, even though that one encounter had been enough to lodge her in his deepest dreams ever since. Unlike most of the fey women, who seemed a combiantion of velvety muscle and generous curves, she was ethereally thin, her figure slender but feminine. For now, her amazing hair was draw back into a knot of braids, and a few had slipped from their pins to fall about her face and shoulders. Her skin was a silver-dusted pallor, and her eyes, her most arresting feature, were full of liquid lights, always shifting and changing. Before he could look away, her gaze had met his, and a shy smile crossed her mouth as their eyes locked and held. A breathless instance passed, and something small and tender stirred in both their hearts.
She looked away and, in her newfound nervousness, she clattered the tray as she set it down on the bedside table. She cursed softly under her breath, and blushed as she felt his gaze on her again. Her hands shook as she backed away, avoiding his eyes.
"There...there are clothes for you, there, on the chair." she pointed vaguely in that direction. "I will let you eat in peace." She was almost at the door before his voice stopped her.
"Lady, if you don't me asking you for one more thing...I don't think you've eaten since you've been taking care of me, and, if you don't mind my saying so, I don't think there's anyone I'd rather share it with." His eyes searched hers, hopeful, shy, yearning.
She sighed deeply, but something had rooted itself inside her chest and would not be dislodged. She blushed and returned to the chair beside his bed. "I don't mind at all, Sam, but if you insist on calling me 'Lady', I shall waste this perfectly good fruit by throwing it at you." She smiled mischievously, and Sam laughed.
"Aye then, now that's taken care of, let's eat!" And with all the energy that only a hungry hobbit can display, he set into the food set before him, and gave himself up to the pure enjoyments of good food, warm comfort, and pleasing companionship. They laughed often, sometimes shyly, sometimes loudly and lustily, and every time their eyes met or their hands bumped, they were aware again of that movement somewhere near their hearts.
He had never been happier.