Chapter 5: Just Between Friends Chapter Rating: PG (mild language, sexual references)

Sam was in the kitchen making an early breakfast for himself and Rose before heading over to help his in-laws with their farming for the day. He was being especially quiet with the pots and pans while cooking breakfast. But he couldn't suppress the occasional hum of a rather saucy little tavern song which was continuously playing through his mind.

". cakes and muffins, pies and tarts,
sells the lass that breaks yer heart.
Save yer shillings, silly lad,
and spend it on the one that's bad. "

He and Rose had stayed up fairly late for them, enjoying exploring each other's bodies as the newly-weds got to know each other. Rose was still asleep in their cozy bedroom in Bag End.

"Damn, but she's a fine lass," Sam contentedly thought to himself. "Her hair is so soft! Sure never suspected she was so good at love-making neither. You're a lucky stiff, Samwise Gamgee. That you are! Should of married her years ago."

He set the tea kettle on the stove top and turned back to breakfast preparations.

"Maybe breakfast could wait a little while," he considered as the memories of last night took precedence in his conscious thought. His unconscious self had already made up its mind and sent signals down below. Sam's attention was mightily distracted from the mundane task of cooking a porridge. "I could sneak in and have a bit o' fun before she fully wakes up. She's probably lying there, all warm and soft and ready ."

Sam's musings were interrupted as he heard the front door softly snick shut in the dark of pre-dawn.

"Mister Frodo?" Sam softly called out without turning around from his breakfast preparations. "Are you just coming in, sir? Would you like some tea and toast?" Maybe he could talk Frodo into finishing the breakfast cooking whilst Sam snuck back in for a quick turn with Rose.

Frodo padded over and lightly gripped the doorframe leading into the kitchen. "Sam, what are you doing up so early? It is an hour before dawn." He couldn't stifle a huge yawn.

"Rose and me are headed over to the Cotton farm today," Sam replied as he moved the whistling kettle off the burner. "I didn't hear you come in last night. I got worried about you being caught out in the rain, since you didn't take your cloak ... " Sam turned around and got a good look at Frodo's blood-stained and wet clothes.

"Bless me! Are you alright? Whatever have you been up to?" he asked, setting the kettle down. "Best get out of them wet things or you'll catch your death of cold." All thoughts of waking Rose vanished instantly.

Frodo shook his head sadly as he pulled up a chair near the stove and slumped into it. "I am fine. This is not my blood. I was out helping Iris with a patient." Frodo ran his hand through his damp hair in frustration.

"From the looks of it, it didn't go very well," Sam quietly said. He could tell Frodo was disturbed. He handed his friend and master a steaming mug of tea and a tea towel, and sat down across the table.

"No, it did not." Frodo said as he cupped the blue-glazed mug in his hands and ran the towel over his head. "Sam, it was one of the worse things I have ever had to witness. Iris was called out to Farmer Wyncot's place around dinner time. His youngest son fell and broke his arm in a terrible accident."

"Well, that don't sound too bad," Sam quietly said, "but it don't explain the blood on your clothes neither, if you pardon my asking."

Frodo sighed. "It was a very bad compound fracture, with bit of the bone jammed through the skin and sticking out. Well, basically, Ted Wyncot bled to death from the broken arm and there was nothing Iris could do to stop it. She had me and his brother trying to help, but it was useless. I did not know a body had so much blood in it." Frodo shook his head. "It was everywhere! Everywhere . All over me. All over Iris. All over the bed. All over the floor. That poor lad never had a chance. But Iris blames herself for not saving him."

"That's terrible. I know the Wyncots. That Ted was a right strong lad - full of good humor and happiness. What a shame. How's the doc taking it?" Sam asked.

Sam greatly admired the doctor, not only for her abundant medical knowledge, but also for her overt kindness. Sam knew there were many times when Frodo would have succumbed to the lingering guilt and despair from his experiences in destroying the One Ring, were it not for the ministrations of Iris Proudfoot. Sam was also privy to the knowledge that Iris and Frodo had started a quiet relationship. Sam and Rose both agreed that it was the best thing for Master Baggins's state of mind and body.

"Hard. Very hard," Frodo replied. "And I am not sure if I only made things worse by being there."

"Why? What do you mean?" Sam asked.

Frodo looked down at the utensils on the kitchen table, set the mug down and sighed.

"Mister Frodo? What happened?" Sam asked again.

"We . um . well, on the walk back to Hobbiton I insisted on stopping at a creek and washing the blood out of our clothes," Frodo quietly said. He looked into Sam's eyes. "Sam, there was so much blood. It was in her hair, on her face, all over her clothes. She looked like something out of a nightmare. And it was all over me too."

"All right," Sam said, "You wanted to get some off of you. Sounds reasonable to me. But something else happened, didn't it?"

"Yes," Frodo admitted. "She ran into the stream fully clothed, and . oh Sam. I had to stop her from hurting herself. All she could talk about was how guilty she felt for killing that lad. Sam, Iris did not kill Ted Wyncot. Ted bled to death. She tried to save him. But that is not how she sees things right now. She is not thinking straight.

I let her cry it out there in the stream in the dark. I just wanted to comfort her. She has done so much for me, for restoring my sanity after Mordor. For taking care of me in so many ways. Sam, I just wanted to comfort her, that's all."

Sam's brows knitted in consternation. Frodo was reluctant to vocalize what he had done. He was justifying some action. This was a bad sign. "What are you trying to say? What did you do, Mister Frodo?"

Frodo looked away. "I . um . well, we made love on the banks of the stream."

"You did what?!" Sam gulped. He could not believe his ears.

"Um . we made love. I just wanted to comfort her, but things got out of hand. It seemed the right thing to do at the time, but when we arrived at her place she was so cold and distant towards me."

"Beggin' your pardon, Frodo, but don't you think the doc's emotions were messed up enough without you goin' and addin' your two bits to it?" Sam frowned. "You said she was taking her patient's death right hard anyway. I can't see how doin' what you did could have made anythin' better."

Frodo's cheeks and ear tips were burning red. "Sam . I . Oh, how can I explain it?"

"Explain what?" Rose had entered the room wearing her nightgown and robe. Voices from the kitchen had awakened her. She had walked into the tail-end of the exchange between her husband and Frodo and was confused. What was Frodo doing up at this early hour anyway? And why was he dressed in filthy, wet clothes? Was that blood on his shirt sleeves?

"Mister Frodo? Are you all right? Do you need me to go for the doctor?" she innocently asked.

"Damn!" Frodo exclaimed, getting up out of the chair and quickly striding past the startled Rose. Sam and Rose could hear Frodo pacing about in his study for a second, then his footsteps were heard heading off towards his bathing room.

"Explain what, Sam?" Rose inquired of her husband.

Sam sighed and scratched the back of his sandy-brown curls, "Oh my. Oh my. This is goin' to take a bit of explaining myself to do, Rosie."