(Chapter 4)
We have left Lothlorien and have spent a few days paddling down a dull old river. Aragorn, the big meanie, has made Legolas and me ride in separate boats. I have nothing to do all day but feel Aragorn's eyes on my arse, and listen to Sam's musing about what Legolas looks like naked. Cruel world. This is torture.
Meanwhile Legolas is stuck in a boat with Gimli, who keeps making suggestive comments about how they should braid each other's hair. Noticed him eyeing Celeborn in Lothlorien, too. Gimli is obviously President of new Elf Fetish Fan Club. Not that I should talk, I guess.
* * *
I have GOT to get away from these others. Just get a load of what happened last night.
We were in camp. I had sneaked into Legolas's blankets when everyone else was asleep, and we'd had a lovely time playing with one another, though it was rather cramped under the bushes there, and it was difficult to be quiet.
Anyway. He got up to take over the watch, and I fell asleep. I awoke in the pitch-black darkness some time later, because he was lying beside me and his hand was under the blankets, stroking me again. I sighed in pleasure and turned to kiss him. Our faces clumsily found one another, and our lips and tongues latched into a delicious tangle. It seemed hotter even than our previous sessions, yet different somehow. As I grew more conscious, I realized that he smelled different too--more like sweet oats, a homey familiar smell, and not at all like magical Elven spices. I lifted my hand to touch his hair, and found--curls! Short curls!
I jumped and whispered, "Sam?"
His hands and lips leaped away from me. "Mr. Frodo?" he said, clearly shocked.
We sat there breathing in panic for a moment, then I relaxed and smiled in the dark. "Sam," I repeated, in a nicer tone this time. After all, what he had been doing felt VERY good.
"Mr. Frodo," he echoed, sounding rather impressed himself.
"Samwise, you rogue," I said, "who were you after? Me or Legolas?"
"Well, these are his blankets, aren't they?" he sputtered.
"Indeed they are," I purred.
"Then I might ask you what YOU'RE doing," he responded. "Sleeping here under 'em, without a stitch on!"
"Yes, well, he invited me."
"Did he?" I felt Sam crawl a little closer. "You mean--you and Legolas... really...?"
"Quite so. Not that it's any of your business."
"What's it like?" Sam asked, sounding fascinated. "What's HE like?"
"Now, Sam. I don't kiss and tell."
"That's a lie and you know it, Mr. Frodo. What's he like? Come now; your Sam won't tell a soul."
"Well, work it out for yourself. Would I still be here, completely naked in his bed, if it hadn't been fabulous?"
Sam sighed. "I don't usually envy you, Mr. Frodo, honest I don't. But tonight I wish I was you, more than anything else."
"Anyone would," I agreed. Then suddenly I laughed. "But what were you DOING? You really thought you could come over here and fondle him in his sleep, and not get your head cut off?"
"Well, it was worth a try," Sam mumbled.
"He's on watch right now, you idiot. And furthermore," I added, still laughing, "why didn't you realize it was me? Or at least, NOT Legolas. Surely you could tell that what you were touching was not, um, of Elven proportions."
"I couldn't think straight," he defended. "I was out of my mind, like, wanting it so badly. And besides...you're...well..."
"I'm what, Sam?"
"You're much bigger than I suspected," he muttered.
I have to admit that this was rather exciting to hear. "Why, thank you," I said. I lay there thoughtfully for a while, and Sam sighed and lay on his back beside me.
Eventually he whispered, "What did you do, exactly?"
"What do you think, silly?"
"I know, but--how did you do it, like? I hear stories about how there's lots of ways, for a pair of fellows..."
"Well..." I sighed dreamily. "Did you know the Elves wear edible underwear?"
"Edible!"
"Edible. Of course you mustn't tell anyone, Sam. I'll never speak to you again if you do."
"I wouldn't, but--oh, Frodo, now you're pulling my leg. Edible underwear, I'm sure!"
I felt around under the blankets till I found a leftover scrap of underpants-leaf, then reached over and tickled Sam's face with it. "Try it yourself, skeptic."
Sam, always willing to eat just about anything, grabbed it from me and sniffed at it. "It does smell of him," he observed. I heard him take a bite and chew on it. "Oh, now, that's heavenly! If you mean he really wears this down THERE..."
"He does."
"Now there's materials for sweet dreams," Sam sighed.
I agreed, and we lapsed silent. I did consider turning on my side and kissing him a little more, since I was still in that kind of mood and apparently my faithful servant was quite good at it (who knew?), but I decided to save myself for Legolas. Besides, I was drowsy, and before I knew it I was falling asleep again. Sam didn't say another word. He must have fallen asleep too.
But after a time I was awoken once more, this time by a flare of light. I shielded my eyes, and peered through my fingers: Legolas was beside us, and had just struck a match. He was staring in confusion at Sam, who was sitting up and pleading not to have his head cut off.
"What happened?" I mumbled sleepily.
"Terribly sorry," Legolas was saying to Sam, in a rather formal voice. "Wrong hobbit."
"I woke up in the dark and he was kissing me," Sam explained to me.
"I thought it was you, of course, Frodo," Legolas added. "He tasted like the leaf. And I didn't quite expect him to be in my bed."
Sam begged, "I never meant to trick you, Legolas, sir, honest I didn't! I was talking to Mr. Frodo here, and fell asleep, that's all."
"Well, was it good, at least?" I asked, and when they both looked at me in surprise I fell over giggling.
To make a long story short, we sorted out what had happened, and Legolas eventually admitted that Sam was almost as tasty as me (but not as pretty, he told me later, when we were alone) and that the whole thing was rather funny when you thought about it. We sent Sam back to his own bed, but in return for keeping the secret about the underpants-leaf (and everything else he had found out), we each had to kiss him again. I was rather flattered that he asked me--surely he was only being polite, since it's Legolas he really wants?
But then I suppose Sam did lust after me for several years there, back in the Shire, before he set eyes upon the Elves. Old habits may indeed die hard.
Quite hard in Sam's case. Ahem.
* * *
Forgive me if tearstains smear the ink in this entry. My prince has left me, alas! I'm alone with Sam and we're on the outskirts of Mordor and I'll probably die in some horrid way by next Wednesday, and now I'm sniveling like a little girl, and-- and everything sucks.
So here's what happened.
I went out in the forest to meet Legolas today. I got to our pre-appointed spot, but instead of Legolas, there was Boromir--probably followed me. Anyway, he started flirting with me, as usual, but this time got really insistent. Couldn't get the mithril negligee out of his mind, he said. Wanted to touch it, he said. I said no; he called me a tease; I said "no means no"; and we got in a big fight--ended up rolling around in the leaves, which I daresay he secretly enjoyed.
Suddenly this arrow shot into his side, and he fell off me, onto the ground, gasping in pain. Legolas strode up, bow still quivering.
"You okay?" he asked me.
"Yes, just a little scuffed up." Legolas helped me to my feet, and we looked down at Boromir, who was trying to speak. "You actually shot a member of the Fellowship for me," I said. "I'm not sure how I feel about that."
"Well, I said I would, if he ever tried anything." Legolas shrugged. "At least I used an Orc arrow. No one can trace it to me."
I bit my lip. "Legolas, I think maybe this wasn't a good idea..."
"I know. We're getting destructive, my sweet. Listen. I've been meaning to tell you this, and now seems a good time." He knelt down in front of me. "Consider this my last favor to you, at least for a while." (By the "favor" he meant using Boromir as an archery bulls-eye.) "We can't get anything done when we're together, and in fact we have a tendency to injure people. I have to let you go. I'm sorry, but that's just the only way we can save the world." He laid his hand on my chest, where the Ring hung under my shirt. "Give me a call when you've got rid of this little trinket."
I wept, I begged, I offered to wear any kinky thing he wanted me to, but it was all to no avail. The heartless bastard had turned back into High and Mighty Impassive Elf-Boy. He gave me a formal kiss on the cheek, and then a bunch of Orcs came pouring over the mountainside, so he sent me away. That was the last I saw of him. I hope he's still alive.
No I don't. I hate him. I hope the Orcs killed him and ate him for dinner.
All right, I don't mean that.
But anyway, he had a point, so I ran down the hill and jumped into one of our boats and took off. Well, it turns out he had done me one more favor: behind me came Sam, splashing about and bellowing like a water buffalo, shouting that he wanted to come with me.
By now I was so incredibly tired of everybody, I was tempted to let the fool drown. But that would have been yet another member of the Fellowship killed by my deadly attractiveness, and I didn't want it on my conscience. So I hauled him into the boat and took him with me.
That's when he told me that he had tried to follow Legolas instead, but Legolas had said, "If you care for me, then go protect Frodo. If you help him destroy the Ring, and get him back alive, I promise I'll give you a hundred kisses." Naturally Sam thought this was well worth the risk of dying in Mordor. And I have to admit it was very sweet of Legolas, to send someone to protect me.
Now I'm sniffling and blubbering like an angsty tweenager. I suppose I should stop writing about that Elf. Damn him for being so pretty and so perfect and so mean and so nice all at once.
Sam says he wants a word with me, anyway, so I'll go see what he could possibly have to say.
* * *
Hmm. Sam says as we'll be spending a lot of time together in the dark, and eating mostly elf-cookies, and will both be very lonely and "missin' Mr. Legolas somethin' awful," perhaps we should just pretend we're with him. "You can pretend I'm him, and I can pretend YOU'RE him," he said. "We can just close our eyes and imagine, like."
He demonstrated by giving me a lembas-flavored kiss, and I must say it raised my spirits. Remember that Sam is, unaccountably, very skilled at this.
You know what else I like about Sam? He admits openly that Legolas is prettier than me. But he wants to kiss me anyway. Granted, there's no one else here to kiss (I don't think we should count Gollum), but still, he could have opted for celibacy.
So I've agreed to try out his suggestion. Maybe by the time we get back from Mordor, I'll be thinking of Sam when I kiss Legolas hello again.
That would serve the pretty-boy right.
* * *
(Author's note: More to come...someday...)
We have left Lothlorien and have spent a few days paddling down a dull old river. Aragorn, the big meanie, has made Legolas and me ride in separate boats. I have nothing to do all day but feel Aragorn's eyes on my arse, and listen to Sam's musing about what Legolas looks like naked. Cruel world. This is torture.
Meanwhile Legolas is stuck in a boat with Gimli, who keeps making suggestive comments about how they should braid each other's hair. Noticed him eyeing Celeborn in Lothlorien, too. Gimli is obviously President of new Elf Fetish Fan Club. Not that I should talk, I guess.
* * *
I have GOT to get away from these others. Just get a load of what happened last night.
We were in camp. I had sneaked into Legolas's blankets when everyone else was asleep, and we'd had a lovely time playing with one another, though it was rather cramped under the bushes there, and it was difficult to be quiet.
Anyway. He got up to take over the watch, and I fell asleep. I awoke in the pitch-black darkness some time later, because he was lying beside me and his hand was under the blankets, stroking me again. I sighed in pleasure and turned to kiss him. Our faces clumsily found one another, and our lips and tongues latched into a delicious tangle. It seemed hotter even than our previous sessions, yet different somehow. As I grew more conscious, I realized that he smelled different too--more like sweet oats, a homey familiar smell, and not at all like magical Elven spices. I lifted my hand to touch his hair, and found--curls! Short curls!
I jumped and whispered, "Sam?"
His hands and lips leaped away from me. "Mr. Frodo?" he said, clearly shocked.
We sat there breathing in panic for a moment, then I relaxed and smiled in the dark. "Sam," I repeated, in a nicer tone this time. After all, what he had been doing felt VERY good.
"Mr. Frodo," he echoed, sounding rather impressed himself.
"Samwise, you rogue," I said, "who were you after? Me or Legolas?"
"Well, these are his blankets, aren't they?" he sputtered.
"Indeed they are," I purred.
"Then I might ask you what YOU'RE doing," he responded. "Sleeping here under 'em, without a stitch on!"
"Yes, well, he invited me."
"Did he?" I felt Sam crawl a little closer. "You mean--you and Legolas... really...?"
"Quite so. Not that it's any of your business."
"What's it like?" Sam asked, sounding fascinated. "What's HE like?"
"Now, Sam. I don't kiss and tell."
"That's a lie and you know it, Mr. Frodo. What's he like? Come now; your Sam won't tell a soul."
"Well, work it out for yourself. Would I still be here, completely naked in his bed, if it hadn't been fabulous?"
Sam sighed. "I don't usually envy you, Mr. Frodo, honest I don't. But tonight I wish I was you, more than anything else."
"Anyone would," I agreed. Then suddenly I laughed. "But what were you DOING? You really thought you could come over here and fondle him in his sleep, and not get your head cut off?"
"Well, it was worth a try," Sam mumbled.
"He's on watch right now, you idiot. And furthermore," I added, still laughing, "why didn't you realize it was me? Or at least, NOT Legolas. Surely you could tell that what you were touching was not, um, of Elven proportions."
"I couldn't think straight," he defended. "I was out of my mind, like, wanting it so badly. And besides...you're...well..."
"I'm what, Sam?"
"You're much bigger than I suspected," he muttered.
I have to admit that this was rather exciting to hear. "Why, thank you," I said. I lay there thoughtfully for a while, and Sam sighed and lay on his back beside me.
Eventually he whispered, "What did you do, exactly?"
"What do you think, silly?"
"I know, but--how did you do it, like? I hear stories about how there's lots of ways, for a pair of fellows..."
"Well..." I sighed dreamily. "Did you know the Elves wear edible underwear?"
"Edible!"
"Edible. Of course you mustn't tell anyone, Sam. I'll never speak to you again if you do."
"I wouldn't, but--oh, Frodo, now you're pulling my leg. Edible underwear, I'm sure!"
I felt around under the blankets till I found a leftover scrap of underpants-leaf, then reached over and tickled Sam's face with it. "Try it yourself, skeptic."
Sam, always willing to eat just about anything, grabbed it from me and sniffed at it. "It does smell of him," he observed. I heard him take a bite and chew on it. "Oh, now, that's heavenly! If you mean he really wears this down THERE..."
"He does."
"Now there's materials for sweet dreams," Sam sighed.
I agreed, and we lapsed silent. I did consider turning on my side and kissing him a little more, since I was still in that kind of mood and apparently my faithful servant was quite good at it (who knew?), but I decided to save myself for Legolas. Besides, I was drowsy, and before I knew it I was falling asleep again. Sam didn't say another word. He must have fallen asleep too.
But after a time I was awoken once more, this time by a flare of light. I shielded my eyes, and peered through my fingers: Legolas was beside us, and had just struck a match. He was staring in confusion at Sam, who was sitting up and pleading not to have his head cut off.
"What happened?" I mumbled sleepily.
"Terribly sorry," Legolas was saying to Sam, in a rather formal voice. "Wrong hobbit."
"I woke up in the dark and he was kissing me," Sam explained to me.
"I thought it was you, of course, Frodo," Legolas added. "He tasted like the leaf. And I didn't quite expect him to be in my bed."
Sam begged, "I never meant to trick you, Legolas, sir, honest I didn't! I was talking to Mr. Frodo here, and fell asleep, that's all."
"Well, was it good, at least?" I asked, and when they both looked at me in surprise I fell over giggling.
To make a long story short, we sorted out what had happened, and Legolas eventually admitted that Sam was almost as tasty as me (but not as pretty, he told me later, when we were alone) and that the whole thing was rather funny when you thought about it. We sent Sam back to his own bed, but in return for keeping the secret about the underpants-leaf (and everything else he had found out), we each had to kiss him again. I was rather flattered that he asked me--surely he was only being polite, since it's Legolas he really wants?
But then I suppose Sam did lust after me for several years there, back in the Shire, before he set eyes upon the Elves. Old habits may indeed die hard.
Quite hard in Sam's case. Ahem.
* * *
Forgive me if tearstains smear the ink in this entry. My prince has left me, alas! I'm alone with Sam and we're on the outskirts of Mordor and I'll probably die in some horrid way by next Wednesday, and now I'm sniveling like a little girl, and-- and everything sucks.
So here's what happened.
I went out in the forest to meet Legolas today. I got to our pre-appointed spot, but instead of Legolas, there was Boromir--probably followed me. Anyway, he started flirting with me, as usual, but this time got really insistent. Couldn't get the mithril negligee out of his mind, he said. Wanted to touch it, he said. I said no; he called me a tease; I said "no means no"; and we got in a big fight--ended up rolling around in the leaves, which I daresay he secretly enjoyed.
Suddenly this arrow shot into his side, and he fell off me, onto the ground, gasping in pain. Legolas strode up, bow still quivering.
"You okay?" he asked me.
"Yes, just a little scuffed up." Legolas helped me to my feet, and we looked down at Boromir, who was trying to speak. "You actually shot a member of the Fellowship for me," I said. "I'm not sure how I feel about that."
"Well, I said I would, if he ever tried anything." Legolas shrugged. "At least I used an Orc arrow. No one can trace it to me."
I bit my lip. "Legolas, I think maybe this wasn't a good idea..."
"I know. We're getting destructive, my sweet. Listen. I've been meaning to tell you this, and now seems a good time." He knelt down in front of me. "Consider this my last favor to you, at least for a while." (By the "favor" he meant using Boromir as an archery bulls-eye.) "We can't get anything done when we're together, and in fact we have a tendency to injure people. I have to let you go. I'm sorry, but that's just the only way we can save the world." He laid his hand on my chest, where the Ring hung under my shirt. "Give me a call when you've got rid of this little trinket."
I wept, I begged, I offered to wear any kinky thing he wanted me to, but it was all to no avail. The heartless bastard had turned back into High and Mighty Impassive Elf-Boy. He gave me a formal kiss on the cheek, and then a bunch of Orcs came pouring over the mountainside, so he sent me away. That was the last I saw of him. I hope he's still alive.
No I don't. I hate him. I hope the Orcs killed him and ate him for dinner.
All right, I don't mean that.
But anyway, he had a point, so I ran down the hill and jumped into one of our boats and took off. Well, it turns out he had done me one more favor: behind me came Sam, splashing about and bellowing like a water buffalo, shouting that he wanted to come with me.
By now I was so incredibly tired of everybody, I was tempted to let the fool drown. But that would have been yet another member of the Fellowship killed by my deadly attractiveness, and I didn't want it on my conscience. So I hauled him into the boat and took him with me.
That's when he told me that he had tried to follow Legolas instead, but Legolas had said, "If you care for me, then go protect Frodo. If you help him destroy the Ring, and get him back alive, I promise I'll give you a hundred kisses." Naturally Sam thought this was well worth the risk of dying in Mordor. And I have to admit it was very sweet of Legolas, to send someone to protect me.
Now I'm sniffling and blubbering like an angsty tweenager. I suppose I should stop writing about that Elf. Damn him for being so pretty and so perfect and so mean and so nice all at once.
Sam says he wants a word with me, anyway, so I'll go see what he could possibly have to say.
* * *
Hmm. Sam says as we'll be spending a lot of time together in the dark, and eating mostly elf-cookies, and will both be very lonely and "missin' Mr. Legolas somethin' awful," perhaps we should just pretend we're with him. "You can pretend I'm him, and I can pretend YOU'RE him," he said. "We can just close our eyes and imagine, like."
He demonstrated by giving me a lembas-flavored kiss, and I must say it raised my spirits. Remember that Sam is, unaccountably, very skilled at this.
You know what else I like about Sam? He admits openly that Legolas is prettier than me. But he wants to kiss me anyway. Granted, there's no one else here to kiss (I don't think we should count Gollum), but still, he could have opted for celibacy.
So I've agreed to try out his suggestion. Maybe by the time we get back from Mordor, I'll be thinking of Sam when I kiss Legolas hello again.
That would serve the pretty-boy right.
* * *
(Author's note: More to come...someday...)