There was a knock at Frodo's bedroom door. It was Pippin.
"Frodo..." he began, "Merry and I made you a nice warm bath." He tried desperately to sound cheery. "C'mon, what do you say? It will be nice to relax in some nice hot water, do you a bit of good."
Frodo nodded and went into the bathrooms. He undressed slowly, being extra careful of his wounds and cuts. The water was almost like heaven. He felt like he was in Lothlórien again, in Sam's arms again... It had happened, yes, while they were in Lórien. Sam had become restless and wandered off for some water one night. It was dark, oddly enough, in their sleeping quarters, and Sam had roused Frodo when returning to his own bed, right next to his master's.
"What's the matter, Sam? Couldn't you sleep?" Frodo asked.
Sam situated himself under the blanket and laid his head on the pillow, facing Frodo. "I'm sorry, Mr. Frodo, didn't mean to wake you. I was thirsty, is all."
Frodo smiled back at Sam. It was a warm and friendly smile, and he snuggled into his pillow as he did this. "I've been thinking a lot, Sam," he said. The singing of the elves could be heard softly, almost far away.
"What about, sir?" Sam inquired.
Frodo sighed heavily and turned on his back, arms behind his head. "About Gandalf. I miss him terribly. Can this really be the end, Sam? Can Gandalf really be gone? Such a life he has lead. To be taken down by a hole seems almost too easy."
Sam sighed and mimicked Frodo's actions. "I'm not sure, Mr. Frodo. It sure makes me sad, though, to see him go like that. If anything he should have went lying in a comfortable bed amongst those he loves. I prefer the peaceful way. 'Eases the heart a bit more', the Gaffer used to say."
Frodo laughed quietly. The ring-bearer found himself quite attracted to Sam's bumbling manner, his loyalty, and above all else - his heart. There had always been something special about the master Samwise, something Frodo often found himself admiring. He propped himself up on his elbow so he could look down upon the face of his friend. Sam smiled at Frodo weakly, trying to fight off sleep but loosing. It was in this moment that Frodo realized that Sam was very beautiful. Sam had such a sweet and angelic face that always seemed to be radiant.
Sam's eyes had closed; finally giving into powers he could not contend with. Frodo smiled and brushed a lock of Sam's hair back into place and found his hand lingering upon a rosy cheek. Not believing that he was actually doing what he was doing, he stroked the soft skin gently. Sam stirred and Frodo sought to pull back. His hand was retrained, however. Sam had taken his masters hand into his own and was tenderly nuzzling it.
Enchanted, Frodo let his friend continue and he drew in a sharp breath once he felt Sam's soft lips upon the calloused skin. Sam looked to Frodo questioningly but Frodo only smiled.
"Frodo-" he began.
The hobbit shook his head. "There is no need for words here, Sam." With that he leaned forward, lightly brushing his lips against Sam's. The slight contact was electrifying, and the kiss deepened. Frodo ran his hands through Sam's silky curls, getting them lost in a sea of gold. A tongue cautiously crept forward, seeking access. The two engaged, passion growing, probing and tasting, gasping and groaning. Excitement rose and emotions exploded. They shared their love with each other in a flash of pleasure and pain.
When it was all over, Sam held his master in his arms, stroking the curly auburn locks. "I love you, Frodo," he whispered.
Frodo yawned and snuggled closer into Sam's warmth. They lay entwined, A Lament for Gandalf lulling them to sleep.
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