Chapter 9
Frodo sighed as he watched from the window. How long had Sam been away now? Three, four hours? It was dark outside now, and soon the stars would emerge from hiding.
What if Sam didn't come back? What if he decided this was not the right thing to do? What if-what if he didn't love Frodo that way anymore? Maybe he had changed his mind. Maybe he would decide that it was not worth it. Why, what would the Gaffer and Mrs. Gamgee think of this? Clearly their hopes were pinned on Sam and Rosie being wed and producing many grandchildren for them.
Frodo smoothed his weskit and breeches that he had changed into. He drew his fingers through his tousled curls. Butterflies danced in his stomach. Did Sam really want to do those things that Frodo had dreamed of? What if Sam didn't find him attractive? But he had said he loved him that way, didn't he? What if Frodo made a fool of himself?
Frodo walked to his room and looked at himself in the mirror. His cheeks were hollow and grey smudges were under his eyes. He was thin, too thin for a hobbit. And his eyes-people always commented on how blue they were, like a clear spring day. Frodo was used to seeing a haunted look in them, sad and in pain. But now, there seemed to be a sparkle in them, a happiness in the clear depths.
A noise at the door startled him, and he rushed to the hall and saw Sam standing, wide-eyed, red from exertion, but cold from the chill air.
"Hullo, Mr. Frodo."
"Sam! I-I thought you weren't coming back."
Sam looked upset. "Sir, I would never do anything like that to you!"
Sam was still shivering, and Frodo suggested they stand by the warm fire. Sam stood at the fire, rubbing his hands to rid the chill. Soon his face was rosy again and the goose bumps disappeared from his exposed skin.
They stood by the fireplace awkwardly. Sam kept glancing at Frodo, and Frodo kept stealing looks at Sam. "This isn't like my dreams at all," said Frodo to himself. "We are like shy tweenagers, each waiting to make the first move." At last the tension became too much and Frodo broke the silence.
"Did you tell Rosie?"
Sam nodded and his eyes filled with tears. "She didn't take it well, the poor lass. Her ma was upset as well. But I can't be with someone I don't love, can I?"
"No, Samwise, you can't. Did you tell her about-about us?" he said quietly.
"No, sir, all I said was that I didn't feel it was right that we were married at this time. I couldn't tell her I didn't love her-she's a fine hobbit and I don't want to make her unhappy." Sam looked distressed as he remembered what had happened.
"What about the Gaffer and your ma? What do you think they will say about..us?" asked Frodo.
Sam looked uncomfortable. "I don't know. I s'pose I will have to tell them, it's just-I hope they wont be disappointed in me."
Tears began to stream down Sam's face. Frodo crossed the hall and put his arms around Sam. Sam buried his head into Frodo's soft chest and sobbed. Frodo breathed in the sweet scent of Sam's curly hair.
"Sam! Sam! Don't cry," said Frodo, troubled. "This is what you want, isn't it?"
Sam looked into Frodo's clear blue eyes. "More than anything in the world, sir."
"Then why do you cry?"
"Mr. Sandyman, the miller's son, he said one day that-that this type of love was evil. That it wasn't the way nature intended."
"Do you believe him?"
"I don't know. But I wonder: how can love be wrong? We ain't hurting anybody, are we? All I know is I love you, Mr. Frodo, and I can't stop." Sam bit his lip determinedly.
"I agree with you, Sam. Love can never be wrong. Love is the most important; most lovely thing in the whole world."
Sam nodded and sniffed.
Frodo looked steadily at Sam. "I love you Samwise Gamgee. I will always love you. Forever and ever," he added with conviction.
Frodo tightened his arms around Sam's shoulders, and brought his face close to Sam's.
New tears began to stream down Sam's face; but this time they were tears of joy. "I love you too, Mr. Frodo. I always have, I reckon, I was just too slow to realize, just like the Gaffer says. Every time I saw you, every time you spoke, I loved you more and more."
Frodo laughed, clear and musical. "Sam, maybe you should just call me 'Frodo' from now on."
Sam nodded, embarrassed. "All right...Frodo."
Frodo stroked Sam's wet cheek and brushed a stray tear from his eye. "Sam, do you think it would be all right if I kissed you now?"
Sam turned pink, but smiled. "I would like that very much."
Frodo cupped Sam's chin and leaned forward, brushing his mouth lightly across Sam's full lips. Frodo pulled away, awaiting Sam's reaction, but Sam shifted closer and Frodo realized he wanted more. This time Frodo positioned his lips firmly on Sam's, and felt a warm glow spread throughout his body. His senses reeled with the taste and smell and feel of Sam. He tasted of honey and dewdrops and his lips were surprisingly soft and moist. It was a sweet, innocent kiss. They pressed their lips together for a minute, drinking in the sensations. The moment stayed fresh in Frodo's mind till his dying day.
"Mmmm, that was nice," Frodo murmured as they broke apart.
"Y-yes," Sam managed.
Frodo run his hands through Sam's sandy curls and pulled him close. "You're so lovely," he sighed as he nuzzled on Sam's ear.
"Sir, sir," said Sam, managing to push Frodo away.
Frodo looked at Sam, concerned. "What's is it, Sam, did I do something wrong?"
"No, but the Gaffer's expecting me home by now, and I should be going. We've got a bit off talking to do-about Rosie." Sam's face was flushed and his eyes dropped.
Frodo nodded sadly. This was all a little too much for Sam, and for him perhaps as well. "I understand."
"It's not that I don't want to, sir, it's just that-that I don't think I'm ready yet."
"Of course, Sam. We can take our time if we wish. I'm feeling a little tired as well. I'll be seeing you in the morning."
"All right, Frodo. G'night."
"Goodnight Sam," said Frodo softly as Sam opened the door. They shared a shy, loving glance, before Sam disappeared into the darkness.
~*~*~*~*~*~
During the next few days they shared loving looks, quick kisses during lunch and warm hugs when Sam left for home. Frodo felt content with this, although at night he wondered what it would be like to make love to Sam.
The ring stayed in Frodo's pocket, yet for the most part he had forgotten about it, and the foul voices ceased calling to him. Frodo's nightmares were now a distant memory, and his sleep was now content. However, Frodo wished he could wake up to feel Sam's warm body wrapped around his body and bury his head into his sandy curls sleepily. Sam was very shy, and as much as Frodo wanted to lay with him, he would wait until Sam was ready. Knowing Sam loved him was the greatest gift in the world. Touches and kisses were pleasurable additions.
Hobbiton was now abuzz with the news that Sam and Rosie were not to be wed, and many wondered why this was so. Some said Sam had gone mad, like his master; others wondered if he had fallen in love with somebody else. They Ivy Bush and Green Dragon were filled with drunken insinuations (made mostly by Ted Sandyman) who thought Sam had forced him on poor Rosie-lass before their wedding night, and Farmer Cotton had thrown him out of the house in a rage. Of course, those who knew Sam thought this absurd, and did not mind saying so.
The Gaffer and Mrs. Gamgee were upset at the news, but Sam seemed cheerful enough, and since he had now come of age, they decided to leave it be.
Sam and Frodo kept their feelings for each other a secret, they didn't even tell their best friends. They were still getting used to awkward kisses and the new feelings their relationship had awoken. Once they had nearly been caught in a passionate embrace, when the Gaffer had walked into Bag End without even knocking, looking for Sam. Luckily they heard the Gaffers heavy footsteps in the hall, and he had found two red- faced hobbits smoothing their shirts in the kitchen, a pile of dirty dishes unwashed in the sink.
Frodo was eating now, and had gained a pound or so. Sam cooked Frodo's meals lovingly, and the both watched each other eat with shy eyes at the table. Soon Frodo had regained his strength, from Sam's nourishment, culinary and emotional. His face, though still a little pale, now had a lovely rosy tinge. His hair brightened, and a perpetual smile curled on his lips.
The weather became fairer, and the sun began to warm the earth. Spring had come early; flowers began to blossom, and fruit had began to ripen. The cruel winter had not eventuated, and now the kitchens and storehouses of the hobbits were laden with food, waiting to be consumed.
One evening, a week after their first kiss, Sam and Frodo sat by the fireside. Frodo laid his head on Sam's shoulder, while Sam gently massaged Frodo's back. Frodo sighed contentedly, and pressed his lips to Sam's shoulder.
"I love you so much, Sam," whispered Frodo.
"I love you to sir," said Sam, smiling. Despite Frodo managing to make Sam call him 'Frodo', he could not convince him to stop calling him 'sir'. "It's not proper, me being your servant and all," Sam had pronounced, scarlet-faced.
"I could lie here all day in your arms."
"Aye, that would be nice, but the garden needs attending to. The 'taters will be needing to be planted soon."
"But of course, dear Sam," said Frodo, laying a kiss on Sam's neck
"Frodo, sir," said Sam, a smile twisting on his lips. "You're awfully distracting."
"And so are you," said Frodo as suckled on Sam's throat for a moment.
"FRODO!" gasped Sam.
Frodo took Sam's chin in his hand and kissed him. Sam murmured in enjoyment as their wet tongues met. They kissed again and again, hands running down each other hips, and fingers clutching desperately on each other's clothes.
"Frodo, mmm, right-yes.."
"Don't stop, Sam, please-uh.." Their small voices sighed and mumbled between kisses.
Each was overcome by the touch and smell and warmth of the other. All thought ceased in their minds, except for the love they held for each other. Suddenly they found themselves lying next to each other, hips thrusting longingly.
"Oh, Sam," groaned Frodo, as he kissed Sam again. Sam's fingers were dug into the small of Frodo's back. Frodo slid his hand up Sam's shirt, eliciting a loud moan when his fingers grazed a hardened nub.
"Sam, I want to so much.." sighed Frodo, feeling a great heat in his breeches.
Frodo slid one leg across Sam's hips, feeling Sam's arousal straining against his breeches. He pressed his face to Sam's heaving chest, nipping softly as a button.
"Sir, ah, please!" Sam managed to choke, "The Gaffer's expecting me for tea. I've got to be getting home."
Frodo felt tears well in his eyes. "All right, Sam," he said sadly as he eased himself off Sam. Sam was not ready to-
"But-but I could come around after tea," Sam stammered.
Frodo froze. "After tea?" he whispered. Sam nodded, chewing his lip fretfully. Frodo brushed Sam's cheek with his a trembling hand. "Do you want to?"
"I'm ready sir," he said, blushing.
Frodo's heart pounded and he gulped. Sam was coming tonight after tea! He wanted to..to what? Frodo looked longing at Sam, wishing he didn't have to wait.
Suddenly Frodo grinned. "Perhaps you should wait a moment before going home," he said, nodding his head towards the lump in Sam's breeches.
Sam's cheeks burned as he quickly covered himself up with his hands. Frodo laughed. "Dearest Samwise, you are not the only one in that condition."
"Oh, Frodo," muttered Sam, quickly glancing at Frodo. "I think it's best I'd be getting home now, seeing you like that makes me all hot."
"Seeing you like that makes *me* hot," said Frodo, kissing Sam on the cheek. "All right, go on then, the sooner you go, the sooner you'll be back here in my arms. Don't be too long."
Sam rose, and Frodo took his hand and walked him to the door. Frodo kissed Sam again on the mouth. "Hurry, my love," he said, squeezing Sam's shoulder, the heat in his eyes unmistakable.
Sam opened his mouth, but no words came out, so he nodded as he left the smial. Sam's heart thudded as he walked down Bag Shot Row. Seeing Frodo that way-feeling him press his hips so longingly against Sam-had given him a painful soreness in his breeches. Frodo was so beautiful, and it was so hard to resist! He wanted so much to see Frodo without his clothes on-he had thought about it every night since they first kissed. The gentle touches and kisses during the past week had been wonderful, but now Sam sensed Frodo wanted more-and so did he. Sam felt his face redden as he thought of touching Frodo *there*. "Just don't go making a fool of yourself, Samwise Gamgee," he muttered to himself as he turned the doorknob to his home.
End of Chapter 9
To be continued (as usual)...
Frodo sighed as he watched from the window. How long had Sam been away now? Three, four hours? It was dark outside now, and soon the stars would emerge from hiding.
What if Sam didn't come back? What if he decided this was not the right thing to do? What if-what if he didn't love Frodo that way anymore? Maybe he had changed his mind. Maybe he would decide that it was not worth it. Why, what would the Gaffer and Mrs. Gamgee think of this? Clearly their hopes were pinned on Sam and Rosie being wed and producing many grandchildren for them.
Frodo smoothed his weskit and breeches that he had changed into. He drew his fingers through his tousled curls. Butterflies danced in his stomach. Did Sam really want to do those things that Frodo had dreamed of? What if Sam didn't find him attractive? But he had said he loved him that way, didn't he? What if Frodo made a fool of himself?
Frodo walked to his room and looked at himself in the mirror. His cheeks were hollow and grey smudges were under his eyes. He was thin, too thin for a hobbit. And his eyes-people always commented on how blue they were, like a clear spring day. Frodo was used to seeing a haunted look in them, sad and in pain. But now, there seemed to be a sparkle in them, a happiness in the clear depths.
A noise at the door startled him, and he rushed to the hall and saw Sam standing, wide-eyed, red from exertion, but cold from the chill air.
"Hullo, Mr. Frodo."
"Sam! I-I thought you weren't coming back."
Sam looked upset. "Sir, I would never do anything like that to you!"
Sam was still shivering, and Frodo suggested they stand by the warm fire. Sam stood at the fire, rubbing his hands to rid the chill. Soon his face was rosy again and the goose bumps disappeared from his exposed skin.
They stood by the fireplace awkwardly. Sam kept glancing at Frodo, and Frodo kept stealing looks at Sam. "This isn't like my dreams at all," said Frodo to himself. "We are like shy tweenagers, each waiting to make the first move." At last the tension became too much and Frodo broke the silence.
"Did you tell Rosie?"
Sam nodded and his eyes filled with tears. "She didn't take it well, the poor lass. Her ma was upset as well. But I can't be with someone I don't love, can I?"
"No, Samwise, you can't. Did you tell her about-about us?" he said quietly.
"No, sir, all I said was that I didn't feel it was right that we were married at this time. I couldn't tell her I didn't love her-she's a fine hobbit and I don't want to make her unhappy." Sam looked distressed as he remembered what had happened.
"What about the Gaffer and your ma? What do you think they will say about..us?" asked Frodo.
Sam looked uncomfortable. "I don't know. I s'pose I will have to tell them, it's just-I hope they wont be disappointed in me."
Tears began to stream down Sam's face. Frodo crossed the hall and put his arms around Sam. Sam buried his head into Frodo's soft chest and sobbed. Frodo breathed in the sweet scent of Sam's curly hair.
"Sam! Sam! Don't cry," said Frodo, troubled. "This is what you want, isn't it?"
Sam looked into Frodo's clear blue eyes. "More than anything in the world, sir."
"Then why do you cry?"
"Mr. Sandyman, the miller's son, he said one day that-that this type of love was evil. That it wasn't the way nature intended."
"Do you believe him?"
"I don't know. But I wonder: how can love be wrong? We ain't hurting anybody, are we? All I know is I love you, Mr. Frodo, and I can't stop." Sam bit his lip determinedly.
"I agree with you, Sam. Love can never be wrong. Love is the most important; most lovely thing in the whole world."
Sam nodded and sniffed.
Frodo looked steadily at Sam. "I love you Samwise Gamgee. I will always love you. Forever and ever," he added with conviction.
Frodo tightened his arms around Sam's shoulders, and brought his face close to Sam's.
New tears began to stream down Sam's face; but this time they were tears of joy. "I love you too, Mr. Frodo. I always have, I reckon, I was just too slow to realize, just like the Gaffer says. Every time I saw you, every time you spoke, I loved you more and more."
Frodo laughed, clear and musical. "Sam, maybe you should just call me 'Frodo' from now on."
Sam nodded, embarrassed. "All right...Frodo."
Frodo stroked Sam's wet cheek and brushed a stray tear from his eye. "Sam, do you think it would be all right if I kissed you now?"
Sam turned pink, but smiled. "I would like that very much."
Frodo cupped Sam's chin and leaned forward, brushing his mouth lightly across Sam's full lips. Frodo pulled away, awaiting Sam's reaction, but Sam shifted closer and Frodo realized he wanted more. This time Frodo positioned his lips firmly on Sam's, and felt a warm glow spread throughout his body. His senses reeled with the taste and smell and feel of Sam. He tasted of honey and dewdrops and his lips were surprisingly soft and moist. It was a sweet, innocent kiss. They pressed their lips together for a minute, drinking in the sensations. The moment stayed fresh in Frodo's mind till his dying day.
"Mmmm, that was nice," Frodo murmured as they broke apart.
"Y-yes," Sam managed.
Frodo run his hands through Sam's sandy curls and pulled him close. "You're so lovely," he sighed as he nuzzled on Sam's ear.
"Sir, sir," said Sam, managing to push Frodo away.
Frodo looked at Sam, concerned. "What's is it, Sam, did I do something wrong?"
"No, but the Gaffer's expecting me home by now, and I should be going. We've got a bit off talking to do-about Rosie." Sam's face was flushed and his eyes dropped.
Frodo nodded sadly. This was all a little too much for Sam, and for him perhaps as well. "I understand."
"It's not that I don't want to, sir, it's just that-that I don't think I'm ready yet."
"Of course, Sam. We can take our time if we wish. I'm feeling a little tired as well. I'll be seeing you in the morning."
"All right, Frodo. G'night."
"Goodnight Sam," said Frodo softly as Sam opened the door. They shared a shy, loving glance, before Sam disappeared into the darkness.
~*~*~*~*~*~
During the next few days they shared loving looks, quick kisses during lunch and warm hugs when Sam left for home. Frodo felt content with this, although at night he wondered what it would be like to make love to Sam.
The ring stayed in Frodo's pocket, yet for the most part he had forgotten about it, and the foul voices ceased calling to him. Frodo's nightmares were now a distant memory, and his sleep was now content. However, Frodo wished he could wake up to feel Sam's warm body wrapped around his body and bury his head into his sandy curls sleepily. Sam was very shy, and as much as Frodo wanted to lay with him, he would wait until Sam was ready. Knowing Sam loved him was the greatest gift in the world. Touches and kisses were pleasurable additions.
Hobbiton was now abuzz with the news that Sam and Rosie were not to be wed, and many wondered why this was so. Some said Sam had gone mad, like his master; others wondered if he had fallen in love with somebody else. They Ivy Bush and Green Dragon were filled with drunken insinuations (made mostly by Ted Sandyman) who thought Sam had forced him on poor Rosie-lass before their wedding night, and Farmer Cotton had thrown him out of the house in a rage. Of course, those who knew Sam thought this absurd, and did not mind saying so.
The Gaffer and Mrs. Gamgee were upset at the news, but Sam seemed cheerful enough, and since he had now come of age, they decided to leave it be.
Sam and Frodo kept their feelings for each other a secret, they didn't even tell their best friends. They were still getting used to awkward kisses and the new feelings their relationship had awoken. Once they had nearly been caught in a passionate embrace, when the Gaffer had walked into Bag End without even knocking, looking for Sam. Luckily they heard the Gaffers heavy footsteps in the hall, and he had found two red- faced hobbits smoothing their shirts in the kitchen, a pile of dirty dishes unwashed in the sink.
Frodo was eating now, and had gained a pound or so. Sam cooked Frodo's meals lovingly, and the both watched each other eat with shy eyes at the table. Soon Frodo had regained his strength, from Sam's nourishment, culinary and emotional. His face, though still a little pale, now had a lovely rosy tinge. His hair brightened, and a perpetual smile curled on his lips.
The weather became fairer, and the sun began to warm the earth. Spring had come early; flowers began to blossom, and fruit had began to ripen. The cruel winter had not eventuated, and now the kitchens and storehouses of the hobbits were laden with food, waiting to be consumed.
One evening, a week after their first kiss, Sam and Frodo sat by the fireside. Frodo laid his head on Sam's shoulder, while Sam gently massaged Frodo's back. Frodo sighed contentedly, and pressed his lips to Sam's shoulder.
"I love you so much, Sam," whispered Frodo.
"I love you to sir," said Sam, smiling. Despite Frodo managing to make Sam call him 'Frodo', he could not convince him to stop calling him 'sir'. "It's not proper, me being your servant and all," Sam had pronounced, scarlet-faced.
"I could lie here all day in your arms."
"Aye, that would be nice, but the garden needs attending to. The 'taters will be needing to be planted soon."
"But of course, dear Sam," said Frodo, laying a kiss on Sam's neck
"Frodo, sir," said Sam, a smile twisting on his lips. "You're awfully distracting."
"And so are you," said Frodo as suckled on Sam's throat for a moment.
"FRODO!" gasped Sam.
Frodo took Sam's chin in his hand and kissed him. Sam murmured in enjoyment as their wet tongues met. They kissed again and again, hands running down each other hips, and fingers clutching desperately on each other's clothes.
"Frodo, mmm, right-yes.."
"Don't stop, Sam, please-uh.." Their small voices sighed and mumbled between kisses.
Each was overcome by the touch and smell and warmth of the other. All thought ceased in their minds, except for the love they held for each other. Suddenly they found themselves lying next to each other, hips thrusting longingly.
"Oh, Sam," groaned Frodo, as he kissed Sam again. Sam's fingers were dug into the small of Frodo's back. Frodo slid his hand up Sam's shirt, eliciting a loud moan when his fingers grazed a hardened nub.
"Sam, I want to so much.." sighed Frodo, feeling a great heat in his breeches.
Frodo slid one leg across Sam's hips, feeling Sam's arousal straining against his breeches. He pressed his face to Sam's heaving chest, nipping softly as a button.
"Sir, ah, please!" Sam managed to choke, "The Gaffer's expecting me for tea. I've got to be getting home."
Frodo felt tears well in his eyes. "All right, Sam," he said sadly as he eased himself off Sam. Sam was not ready to-
"But-but I could come around after tea," Sam stammered.
Frodo froze. "After tea?" he whispered. Sam nodded, chewing his lip fretfully. Frodo brushed Sam's cheek with his a trembling hand. "Do you want to?"
"I'm ready sir," he said, blushing.
Frodo's heart pounded and he gulped. Sam was coming tonight after tea! He wanted to..to what? Frodo looked longing at Sam, wishing he didn't have to wait.
Suddenly Frodo grinned. "Perhaps you should wait a moment before going home," he said, nodding his head towards the lump in Sam's breeches.
Sam's cheeks burned as he quickly covered himself up with his hands. Frodo laughed. "Dearest Samwise, you are not the only one in that condition."
"Oh, Frodo," muttered Sam, quickly glancing at Frodo. "I think it's best I'd be getting home now, seeing you like that makes me all hot."
"Seeing you like that makes *me* hot," said Frodo, kissing Sam on the cheek. "All right, go on then, the sooner you go, the sooner you'll be back here in my arms. Don't be too long."
Sam rose, and Frodo took his hand and walked him to the door. Frodo kissed Sam again on the mouth. "Hurry, my love," he said, squeezing Sam's shoulder, the heat in his eyes unmistakable.
Sam opened his mouth, but no words came out, so he nodded as he left the smial. Sam's heart thudded as he walked down Bag Shot Row. Seeing Frodo that way-feeling him press his hips so longingly against Sam-had given him a painful soreness in his breeches. Frodo was so beautiful, and it was so hard to resist! He wanted so much to see Frodo without his clothes on-he had thought about it every night since they first kissed. The gentle touches and kisses during the past week had been wonderful, but now Sam sensed Frodo wanted more-and so did he. Sam felt his face redden as he thought of touching Frodo *there*. "Just don't go making a fool of yourself, Samwise Gamgee," he muttered to himself as he turned the doorknob to his home.
End of Chapter 9
To be continued (as usual)...
