Chapter 5

The kitchen seemed eerie with the soft moonlight cascading through the windows. The rain beat faintly on the roof as Frodo sat by the fire, smoking his pipe.

He got up and looked out the window. Nobody was hurrying about in the rain; it was nearly midnight and every respectable hobbit was tucked in bed by now. "But, I'm no respectable hobbit, am I?" thought Frodo idly. "I have indecent thoughts about my good friend. I dream about doing unspeakable acts with him. I cannot wish him the best, which is what he deserves." A hoarse laugh broke the silence of Bag End.

Frodo finished his pipe and took the ring from his pocket. Even the plainest of things can be the most beautiful. Like something else Frodo could think of. He fondled the ring gently, drawing his fingers over the smooth curves. The gold gleamed in the firelight and Frodo could see his own face reflected on the surface.

His tossed the ring lightly in the air and caught it, the ring landing on his palm with a dull thud. He wondered if he dare put the ring on again. He couldn't explain it, but, the last time he had put on the ring he felt powerful...in control. In truth, it felt good to wear this striking piece of jewellery.

He slowly put the ring of his forefinger and marvelled at how attractive it looked. It fit perfectly. Frodo quickly walked to his bedroom and looked at the mirror with a gasp. He was not there! So, the ring *did* make you invisible. He imagined walking about Hobbiton, seeing, but unseen. He could listen to conversations; he could spy on people...on Sam.

Frodo grinned devilishly as he grabbed his coat and opened the round, green door. The rain was now a fine mist that lightly coated hair and clothes like dew. The air was chill and moonlight danced on the fog.

Frodo walked down the road, head down and hands in his pockets. He wondered what everyone would think if they saw him wandering the streets at this time of night. Mad Baggins indeed!

His feet splashed in puddles. Mud clung to his feet. Frodo shook his head and droplets of water sprang from his curly hair. His heart pounded with fear, but this didn't prevent him from walking towards his goal.

At last he arrived. The smial was smaller than Frodo's at Bag End. He had been there only a few times before. There were only three small bedrooms, a sitting room and small kitchen. Frodo had felt guilty that his own home was much bigger and only he lived there; yet a whole family had to live here.

He pushed open the door quietly. Nobody locked their doors, hobbits lived a very peaceful existence and that was they way they liked it. The door creaked slightly and Frodo, heart pounding, tiptoed into the hallway, closing the door with a soft snap.

Frodo knew the way, and was swiftly at the doorway to the bedroom. He had passed the main bedroom where the happy couple slept soundly and the small bedroom which the three sisters shared.

Frodo peeped through the doorway and smiled. A figure lay in the bed, snoring softly. Two other beds were in the room, but they were empty. One of his brothers had left home to live in the North Farthing and another had left to join his uncle in the rope business.

Frodo crept up to the bed and watched the rise and fall of the blankets. They rose and fell in a regular rhythm, and Frodo knew Sam was sound asleep.

Sam lay on his back, the blankets up to his chin. His forehead was furrowed somewhat, as if he had a worry on his mind. Sam's lips were slightly parted and his eyes darted beneath his eyelids. He was dreaming. Frodo wondered for a moment if he dreamt the same dreams he had. He had had many dreams about Sam. Frodo's favourite was when he wrapped his legs around Sam's broad waist and... Not likely, thought Frodo, covering his mouth to stifle a laugh.

Frodo sat on the edge of the bed, unconcerned if Sam should suddenly awake. Of course, he was invisible; Sam would probably think an evil spirit was haunting him.

The thought amused Frodo.

He ran his finger lightly across Sam's cheeks. They were plump and rosy. He leant over and breathed in Sam's hair. Sam's light brown curls smelt wonderful. He smelt wonderful.

Frodo now moved to Sam's forehead and kissed it lightly. Frodo felt dizzy for a moment and drew away from Sam, to steady himself. Frodo leant over and pressed his lips to Sam's. He poked his tongue out slightly and tasted Sam's lush mouth. Frodo thought he could faintly taste the bitter flavour of ale lingering on Sam's lips.

"Sam," Frodo breathed, caressing Sam's locks. "You are so sweet, so beautiful. I want you so. I love you so."

Sam mumbled something incoherently and moved a little. Frodo took his hand away quickly, breathing a sigh of relief when Sam sighed and stopped stirring. He watched Sam for a moment, and satisfied he had fallen into a deep sleep again, continued his exploration of Sam's body.

He drew his hand down Sam's body, down the rough blanket and hesitated just around Sam's belly. Frodo circled his fingers on his belly, wondering. He glanced at Sam, who was in a deep sleep. Was it Frodo's imagination or was Sam smiling faintly? Frodo sighed and ran his fingers across Sam's hips. He touched a lump with his fingertips and felt himself immediately harden. Frodo's breath came rapidly and he placed his hand over the bulge. Was it Frodo's imagination or did he feel something stir under his hand?

Frodo put his other hand to his own breeches and undid the buttons with his shaking hand to let himself out. Keeping one hand on Sam, Frodo stroked himself, slowly at first and then faster and faster. He imagined Sam was touching him...stroking him...fondling him. His breath now came in short gasps as he became more excited. Frodo groaned loudly as he climaxed.

Frodo sat on the bed, gasping and holding himself, as a warm liquid flowed through his fingers. He noticed that he had now soiled his coat and breeches.

Frodo hadn't realized how loudly he had groaned and felt a rustle behind him.

"What the...?" said a voice.

Frodo panicked and leaped off the bed. Sam was wide-awake now. His head craned around the bedroom, looking in every direction.

"Hello, is someone there?" he called shakily. Sam's eyes were wide in fear.

Frodo stood rooted to the spot, like a rabbit caught in lantern light. A minute passed. Sam, deciding he probably had been dreaming, was now poking at a sticky substance on his sheets.

Gathering his wits, Frodo crept quickly out of the room and out the front door. He stood with his back at the door, heart thudding, and took the ring off. It was a lucky thing nobody saw a figure run down the road to Bag End that night, for he had forgotten to button his breeches back up.

End of chapter 5

To be continued.