It was a gloomy day when Frodo decided to announce his departure. He called Sam into his study first, giving Sam his diary among a few other legal documents to cover the formalities. By this time, night had befallen The Shire, and a fire burned brightly in the hearth.
Sam moved to leave his master in peace, but Frodo stopped him.
"Wait," he said. "I have one more thing."
"Yes, master Frodo?"
Frodo sighed, and bent over the table against the far wall, trying to find the perfect way to say it, the perfect way to tell him. He turned, but something was amiss. Pain seared up his arm and he felt the warm sticky fluid on his skin. A fairly new wound had re-opened. Sam gave a small cry and helped his master to a chair.
Frodo grimaced as Sam pulled up his sleeve, revealing the crude bandage. Sam was astonished. "I had no idea your wound would bleed, Mr. Frodo. I thought the poison only affected you on the inside?"
Frodo sighed heavily, hanging his head in shame. "It is not the Nazgûl wound." Sam looked up in alarm. "I inflicted the wound upon myself, dear Sam."
"Why? Why would you do such a thing, Frodo?" Sam asked, his voice full of pain.
Frodo was close to tears. He did not want Sam to know, at least not like this. "For many reasons, my beloved Sam. I could not cope with the pain in my heart and I needed distraction..."
Sam could not believe what he was hearing and backed away, trying to pretend he had not heard the words from his master's lips.
"I became angry with myself, Sam," Frodo continued.
Sam covered his ears and sat on the floor, trying to keep the words away.
"I hated myself. I hated myself for not being able to tell you, for being such a coward," Frodo spoke gently.
Frodo joined Sam on the floor. He saw now that Sam was crying. "Oh, Mr. Frodo, I never meant to cause you any pain. I didn't want for it to be like this."
Frodo pressed a finger to Sam's lips. "It is of my own fault, Samwise. Not yours." His mouth opened to continue, but he could not and he looked away in shame. It was foolish to think that Sam still loved him. So many times had Sam confessed his feelings, only to be met with a kiss or the squeeze of a hand. Frodo had been unfair and selfish, catering to his own fears with disregard of his love's need.
Frodo looked over and decided to try again. He stared into Sam's eyes, searching for a trace of what he had seen in Lórien, what he had seen through Mordor, on the edge of Mt. Doom. Sam looked back at him, oblivious to what his master was trying to do. A hand reached out to caress the gardener's face and he met it willingly, clasping it to his face.
Frodo moved over, closer to Sam. He continued to stare, his other hand now caressing the other cheek. It was there, the feeling, the spark. He knew it was there, for it had never left. He wanted to cry out - in anger towards himself for being blind or in joy that his Sam still loved him - he could not decide. Instead, he closed the distance between himself and the other hobbit, pressing his lips desperately to Sam's.
Sam reached his arms around Frodo, pulling their bodies together. He did not seem surprised at all. It was almost as if he was anticipating this kiss, this connection of their souls.
They battled for domination over the mouth of the other, knowing that there were no losers in this game, not this time. Passion intensified and emotions were once again exposed. Sam found himself reaching to remove the tunic of his lover, but his hands were gently pushed away, Frodo breaking the kiss at the same moment. Sam looked questioningly to his master.
Frodo only shook his head. "We cannot allow this continue. I should have not done that. I am sorry Sam."
Sam became even more puzzled and a bit hurt. "I do not understand, Mr. Frodo."
Frodo gazed deep into the eyes of the one he loved. He stroked Sam's cheek. "I have never once told you. Through all of our years together you have been the only one to say it and I remained mute. No more, Sam. No more." He drew in a deep breath, unsure if he could continue. Sam waited, like he had all along, doubting this time would be different than the others. Sam knew Frodo would often try to express his feelings, but Frodo was just too afraid. The former ring bearer leaned forward once again, his lips barely brushing Sam's. He spoke, voice barely above a whisper.
"I love you, Samwise Gamge."
The tears came that instant and their lips met once again, crickets chirping all around.
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