Chapter Thirteen: Ablutions and Arousal

The four of them proceeded back to the hallway on which their rooms were located. At the end of this hallway was a bathroom that drew in hot water from a heated well outside. Sam went inside the bathroom, twisted the taps, and then turned to Merry and Pippin.

"You two can either wait until Mr. Frodo's done or else use the upstairs bathroom and drip mud all over Mr. Elrond's pretty tile." Not surprisingly, they decided to wait until Frodo had finished.

Sam went down the hall to get Frodo's nightclothes, leaving Merry and Pippin outside and Frodo in the bathroom. Frodo shut the door and began to undress.

He had gotten thinner, much more than he'd realized, he noticed as he took off his rain-soaked shirt. His stomach, which had once stuck out, was now flat. If he lay down, it would be concave.

After taking off the rest of his clothes, Frodo poured generous amounts of foaming soap into the water and slid in. Although the black marble tub was small for an Elf (Elrond's children had used it when they were very, very young), it was large and luxurious for a hobbit. Frodo stretched out, his toes poking above the water's surface.

Sam came in at that moment and draped Frodo's nightclothes over the back of the chair that stood in the corner. "Your poor hair!" he said, looking at Frodo's muddy and tangled curls. "I can see I'm going to have a time of it getting all that dirt out." He picked up a cup from the side of the sink and filled it. "Here, Mr. Frodo, tilt your head back."

Frodo did so and closed his eyes. Warm water slid through his hair. His eyes still shut, he could hear Sam opening a bottle of soap.

As Sam's fingers slid through his hair, Frodo sighed. He had long ago discovered that his head and his neck were two of the most sensitive parts of his body. Any time they were rubbed or touched, it put him into an almost trance-like state. When he was young, his mother would comb his hair before supper, and nine times out of ten he'd be asleep before she finished.

But while those trances had been hypnotic, this one was erotic.

"Stop it, Frodo," he told himself. "Think of something else." However, the only thought that came to mind was that he was glad to be covered by the bubbles; he was in somewhat of an embarrassing physical state.

"You might think me bold, sir," said Sam as he rinsed out the soap, "but I've always thought that you must have the prettiest hair in the Shire."

"I don't," said Frodo before he could stop himself. "Yours is prettier."

"Oh sir, it isn't!"

"It is," said Frodo, sitting up and turning to Sam. "Mine's just brown, like everyone else. Yours is thick" he stroked a curl "and golden, and gorgeous."

Sam turned a deep shade of scarlet. "My Gaffer always said it reminded him of straw."

"Well, it reminds me of honey," said Frodo.

"Yours puts me in mind of chocolate," said Sam. Then, suddenly, he exclaimed, "Oh, Mr. Frodo, you're ever so beautiful!"

Frodo's heart was beating fast; his arousal had reached the point where it was almost painful. Just then, he heard Pippin's voice call, "Are you almost done in there?"

"Be quiet, Pip," he heard Merry mutter.

"Just about," called Frodo. His hair was clean now. Passing some soap over the rest of his body (which had returned to its regular state), he stepped out of the tub, dried himself off, and quickly dressed.

"It's all yours," he said to Merry and Pippin as he and Sam left the room.

When they got back to the bedroom, Sam yawned. "If you don't mind, sir, I think I'll go to bed."

"Go right ahead, Sam."

Sam slid under the covers without undressing and was asleep within the minute.

Frodo lay down on his own bed but was wakeful.

Note: Many of my reviewers have been asking when our two lads are finally going to get together. It's not in this story. Nor is it in the sequel. However, things change considerably in the third part of the series and continue in the same vein in the fourth. You can see my bio for more details. Therefore, if you're expecting passionate lovemaking, go somewhere else for a while. Those who stay, however, can expect much tenderness, angst, musings, and sweetness.