Title: How Long Ago?
Author: Tempest (trailweary_guide@hotmail.com)
Pairing(s): Sam/Frodo
Rating: PG
Summary: Sam contemplates the repercussions of his feelings for Frodo
Warnings: Slash.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with LOTR. Not even the rights
to a lousy action figure. Wish I did, though.
Authors Note: My first fanfic, go easy on me! Sam's POV, and movie
verse. A short little blurb that popped into my head and demanded
writing. If you can't guess, lower case "him", "he", "his" etc refer
to Sam, while upper case "Him", "He". "His" refer to Frodo.
Extra Note: The forget-me-not reference is inspired by "Into his Own"
by Adrienne
When had it begun? It seemed like forever, now, awash with all the
guilty dreams that were his plague, and all the sweet charades
that were the cover for those dreams, the numerous facades he
juggled in order to keep Him oblivious, to keep Him happy. Rosie,
for instance. Had he once thought that he would hurt and lead
another on simply to provide a cover for true emotions? Never,
but that was what He did to him.
But oh, the look in those eyes was enough! Both punishment
and reward, that look of the sky smiling in forget-me-not eyes,
and the warmth of a summer sun radiating from the smile on
blushing lips. How could he resist Him, when that smile appeared?
Some way that was so exquisitely beautiful that made him shake
with yearning. And the flip side of the coin, talking with
Him on cold nights about futures, silently denying vivid dreams
that left him reeling, hardly managing to keep Him oblivious.
Oblivious to those cruel emotions that made him stay with Him
on these nights, despite the will to state the obvious: That he
loved Him. Oh, it was so obvious, so perfect, and yet, it
was wrong. "How could such a wonder be wrong?!", he felt like
crying out, but it was wrong to the core.
Oh, not that he had always loved and adored a lad and not a lass,
but in so many other ways, most potent of all the fact that He was
a gentlehobbit of the best kind, and so flawless in every way that
He left him breathless simply by living. On the other hand, he
was simply a lowly gardener, lucky to have the chance to even
speak to Him, let alone be called friends. Or more, but that was
one of the dreams he was forced to deny. Ah, those precocious
thoughts - they crept up on him when he wasn't looking, and
claimed him so that he could hardly look at Him without one of
those thoughts worming it's way in!
And now they were off on an adventure, an adventure that stole them
away from the Shire and everything so familiar within it. What if
He was killed, so far from home? That was why he had to stay with
Him, through anything, and everything! Pippin and Merry looked out
for each other, he looked after Him, and He looked after Himself too.
That was the way of things, and always would be. All this newness
scared him, and make no mistake. Those black riders too, they were
after Him, no doubt about that. Even if they wanted to get Him,
though, they wouldn't, because he was always going to be at His side,
and he wouldn't let those Black Riders hurt Him.
Did Pippin know? Did Merry know? Did Gandalf and all his magic know?
Know of those dreams and emotions that plagued him - even now, when
they sat in dreadful fear of those Black Riders that screamed in the
darkness. Even now! There was something blasphemous in that,
somewhere, and he would be much happier when the sun rose, shedding
her light on the situation. Strider, he was a frightening one, and
one he didn't want to get mixed up in unless he had to - but He
seemed to trust the ranger, and so, so would he.
Oh, if only He knew... everything would be easy. And those dreams
would no longer be tormenting, but sweet, as they were meant to be.
Author: Tempest (trailweary_guide@hotmail.com)
Pairing(s): Sam/Frodo
Rating: PG
Summary: Sam contemplates the repercussions of his feelings for Frodo
Warnings: Slash.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with LOTR. Not even the rights
to a lousy action figure. Wish I did, though.
Authors Note: My first fanfic, go easy on me! Sam's POV, and movie
verse. A short little blurb that popped into my head and demanded
writing. If you can't guess, lower case "him", "he", "his" etc refer
to Sam, while upper case "Him", "He". "His" refer to Frodo.
Extra Note: The forget-me-not reference is inspired by "Into his Own"
by Adrienne
When had it begun? It seemed like forever, now, awash with all the
guilty dreams that were his plague, and all the sweet charades
that were the cover for those dreams, the numerous facades he
juggled in order to keep Him oblivious, to keep Him happy. Rosie,
for instance. Had he once thought that he would hurt and lead
another on simply to provide a cover for true emotions? Never,
but that was what He did to him.
But oh, the look in those eyes was enough! Both punishment
and reward, that look of the sky smiling in forget-me-not eyes,
and the warmth of a summer sun radiating from the smile on
blushing lips. How could he resist Him, when that smile appeared?
Some way that was so exquisitely beautiful that made him shake
with yearning. And the flip side of the coin, talking with
Him on cold nights about futures, silently denying vivid dreams
that left him reeling, hardly managing to keep Him oblivious.
Oblivious to those cruel emotions that made him stay with Him
on these nights, despite the will to state the obvious: That he
loved Him. Oh, it was so obvious, so perfect, and yet, it
was wrong. "How could such a wonder be wrong?!", he felt like
crying out, but it was wrong to the core.
Oh, not that he had always loved and adored a lad and not a lass,
but in so many other ways, most potent of all the fact that He was
a gentlehobbit of the best kind, and so flawless in every way that
He left him breathless simply by living. On the other hand, he
was simply a lowly gardener, lucky to have the chance to even
speak to Him, let alone be called friends. Or more, but that was
one of the dreams he was forced to deny. Ah, those precocious
thoughts - they crept up on him when he wasn't looking, and
claimed him so that he could hardly look at Him without one of
those thoughts worming it's way in!
And now they were off on an adventure, an adventure that stole them
away from the Shire and everything so familiar within it. What if
He was killed, so far from home? That was why he had to stay with
Him, through anything, and everything! Pippin and Merry looked out
for each other, he looked after Him, and He looked after Himself too.
That was the way of things, and always would be. All this newness
scared him, and make no mistake. Those black riders too, they were
after Him, no doubt about that. Even if they wanted to get Him,
though, they wouldn't, because he was always going to be at His side,
and he wouldn't let those Black Riders hurt Him.
Did Pippin know? Did Merry know? Did Gandalf and all his magic know?
Know of those dreams and emotions that plagued him - even now, when
they sat in dreadful fear of those Black Riders that screamed in the
darkness. Even now! There was something blasphemous in that,
somewhere, and he would be much happier when the sun rose, shedding
her light on the situation. Strider, he was a frightening one, and
one he didn't want to get mixed up in unless he had to - but He
seemed to trust the ranger, and so, so would he.
Oh, if only He knew... everything would be easy. And those dreams
would no longer be tormenting, but sweet, as they were meant to be.