ZoSo Gamgee - Baggins - If they sold Sams on Ebay, I think we'd all buy
one!
Aratlithiel - How will Sam and Frodo get past those memories that are hanging around? Your question is answered here.
Endymion - Lots of anxiety in that last chapter, on both Sam and Frodo's parts! Now, to see what's going on with our hung over hobbit!
TTTurtle - Poor Frodo! Can Sam get him to talk this time? We'll see! This is the last chapter! Waahhh! What will I do now, I wonder? Adopt another homeless plotbunny perhaps.
Chapter 3 - Solace - the SLASH version
Sam had risen from his chair and was gazing out the bedroom window. Several times during the day, Frodo had awakened slightly, but only enough to groan softly and burrow back into the pillows again. Another soft moan drew Sam back to the bedside. Frodo had opened his eyes and was looking up at him in confusion.
"Sam, how - how did I get here?" He gasped and put a hand to the cloth on his forehead. "Ohhh, m'head hurts," he mumbled.
"You were in the parlor, Mr. Frodo, " Sam said quietly, resuming his seat. "I brought you here. You'd been - that is, you seem to have had- " Sam blushed slightly, frustrated with the trouble he was having telling his master of the state in which he had been found.
"Wine," Frodo breathed, still holding the cloth to his aching head. "Too much. Couldn't sleep." Frodo let his hand fall away from his forehead to his side, letting it rest against the soft fabric of the comforter.
Sam quickly took the cloth to the basin and dipped it in the cold water again. He wrung it out and placed it back on Frodo's forehead very gently. "I'm goin' to stay right here with you, Mr. Frodo, I promise," Sam told him, again taking the thin, long-fingered hand into his own.
"I'm glad, Sam. I'm sorry - "
"Don't you be sorry, Mr. Frodo," Sam said firmly. "You've been holdin' some hurt inside, I know," Sam said softly as he lightly brushed a stray curl out of Frodo's eyes. "I see it behind your eyes, when you look away at nothin'," he said. "You flinch at the smallest sound if it happens sudden like."
"Oh, Sam," Frodo breathed, closing his eyes. "I don't mean to hurt you with my foolish behavior. I just can't burden you with - "
"Burden me?" The depth of the distress in Sam's voice caused Frodo to stop short. "Nothin' you could do or say could be a burden to me, Mr. Frodo," Sam continued, his eyes pleading. "What burdens me most is that you won't let me in. You won't let go of whatever's hurtin' you and let me take it for you."
"But Sam, you don't know what you ask!" Frodo exclaimed, immediately wishing he had kept his voice lower. He continued more quietly. "I cannot ask you to bear for me what I cannot bear myself."
"Mr. Frodo," Sam answered quietly, "It's the very fact that you can't bear it that worries me." The cool, damp cloth had fallen away from Frodo's forehead against the coverlet and Sam replaced it very tenderly. "If you can't bear it, don't. Let it go."
Frodo looked very pale, and Sam realized he was in no condition to discuss the things that distressed him. "You need to rest for now, Mr. Frodo. I'll make you something for supper later on and we'll set you to rights, we will."
Sam rose from the bedside and slipped out of the room briefly. He returned a few moments later with a small pitcher of water and poured some into a glass, holding it to Frodo's lips so he could drink.
Frodo sipped it cautiously, knowing he needed it but not wanting to move his pounding head if he could help it. At least he wasn't overly nauseous. His stomach was telling him it didn't want food yet, but as long as he lay still, he didn't feel as though he would throw up. He lay back against the pillows with a sigh of relief and his eyes fluttered closed.
"Sam. My Sam, thank you," he whispered.
Sam forced himself to smile through his anxiety. "You just keep still and rest until you feel stronger, Mr. Frodo." He would stay at Frodo's bedside until his master was sleeping. He would then set about making something for him to eat later, when he was feeling better. It would be a late meal, by the look of things.
~*~
It was late. The sun had set and the candle stood burning on the nightstand. The aroma of chicken broth floated through the open door into the bedroom and Frodo woke. He felt much better for having rested, and the ache in his head had subsided to a dull throbbing in the background. The glass of water was easily within reach and he drained it eagerly as Sam stepped through the door holding a tray.
Sam's words repeated in his mind as he placed the glass back on the bedside table. 'Let it go.' Sam's words were simple, yet more eloquent than the finest Elvish poetry, spoken in perfect honesty. Was that what he needed to do to banish the horrible images from his mind?
"I've got some nice hot soup for you, Mr. Frodo," Sam entered the room with a tray in his hands, and placed it on the nightstand. "You look much better, if I may say so, Sir."
"I feel quite a bit better, thanks to you, Sam." Frodo smiled as he sat up slowly. "It was a foolish thing I did last night, most certainly," he confessed rather sheepishly. He took the spoon and tasted the broth. "It's heavenly, Sam. Thank you."
"You're welcome, Mr. Frodo," Sam replied, seating himself again.
Frodo made short work of the broth and the piece of bread Sam had brought him. It was not a large meal, but he didn't think he could handle much more just yet. He now remembered why he was not given to drinking large amounts of alcoholic beverages.
When Frodo finished the broth and bread, Sam took the tray away and returned to fix him with a stern gaze. "Mr. Frodo," he began slowly, not wanting to 'get above his station,' as his Gaffer would say. "Why were you - begging your pardon, Sir - sleeping in the parlor?" He flushed slightly as he continued. "You would have been better off here, in your bed."
Frodo knew he wouldn't be allowed to put Sam off for much longer regarding his current state of mind. Sam missed nothing. "It's so hard for me, Sam," he began. "It starts when I get close to this room. It's just like it was that night." The faraway look began to creep back into Frodo's features as he continued. "I walk in with the candle and set it down." his voice began to tremble slightly. "I know there's nobody else here, but I can still feel - " he broke off, feeling his control beginning to waver.
"It's all right, Mr. Frodo," Sam soothed. "Tell me."
"I can still feel his presence behind me. I can hear his voice in my ear and feel him - feel his hands on me. And when it's dark - " he stammered, his voice breaking, "when it's dark I hear him saying again that I am alone, and that you aren't going to come - "
"But you're not alone, Mr. Frodo," Sam said. "You won't be, not ever. He lied to you, no mistake."
"Yes, Sam. But then, it seemed - " Frodo had to stop and try to calm himself before going on. "It seemed as if the darkness was all that was left to me. Just the darkness, the pain and - and him." Frodo was trembling now, overwhelmed by the vividness of the memory. "If you hadn't come, Sam, he would have - he would -" Frodo couldn't finish, a sob rising in his throat and cutting off his words.
Sam couldn't bear it anymore. He sat on the bed and held Frodo as the fear and misery he had been holding back broke forth in a wave of bitter tears. "He's gone, Mr. Frodo. He won't touch you again. Not ever." Sam said, rubbing Frodo's back gently.
Frodo calmed slowly, allowing Sam to soothe him. Sam's fingers had moved to the back of his neck, combing slowly through the curls that lay against it. Frodo took several deep breaths and spoke again, before his resolve could fail him.
"Sam, I nearly escaped him," Frodo breathed. "I severed my bonds on the edge of a broken hearthstone, but he heard me as I opened the door." Frodo's fingers tightened on Sam's arm as he unburdened himself. "I ran into the forest, but he caught me, Sam!" He started to tremble again. "He caught me and struck me unconscious, then he dragged me back and left me in that room where you found me."
Fire flared in Sam's eyes but his arms were gentle as he hugged Frodo and spoke soft words of encouragement. "You tried, Mr. Frodo. I know you did. I know you didn't go easy," Sam said as he fought his own tears.
"I was beaten when I defied him, and - " Frodo ground his teeth and forced the words out. "When he didn't hit me, he - touched me, Sam. I was so hungry, so thirsty and so weak, I - I couldn't stop him! I couldn't!"
"I know, me dear, I know." And Sam did know. He had seen the bruises and he knew how weak Frodo had become by the time he had found him. "It's not your fault."
Frodo seemed not to hear him. His eyes were closed and his forehead rested against Sam's chest as he allowed his tale to make itself known. "When I gave him my signature on that document, I - I begged him to free me. I begged him, Sam!" Frodo gasped as the memory flooded his mind. "He wasn't going to let me go, not ever! I would still be there if not for you, Merry and Pippin."
Choking sobs racked his frame as Sam held him, the poison of his fear and pain draining from him with his tears. "I think he might have killed me, but not before - not until he - " No more words would come. The pain of his bruises, the pangs of his hunger, the fear, loathing and shame poured forth into the protective heart of one who loved him.
The hands that stroked his hair and the arms that encircled him had only the solace of love to offer, only the willingness to take his pain and bear it away. Nothing more could he ask for, and nothing more did he need.
When Sam touched him, he felt safe, and he felt the darkness, his enemy, driven back as if by a gleaming blade as warmth and kindness took its place. He never wanted to move from that embrace again, now that it had been restored to him, seemingly against all possible odds.
Tears still lingering on his lashes, Frodo looked up into Sam's eyes. They were beautiful eyes, the most beautiful he had ever seen. Honest and gentle and looking back into his steadily, shining with tears of their own. He had thought he would never see them again, would never again feel a touch that was gentle and caring. His lips were no more than a whisper from Sam's and he closed the distance between them, trusting.
A few moments later, his lips still burning from the kiss, Sam whispered, "Mr. Frodo?"
"Oh, Sam! Forgive me," Frodo said, beginning to pull away in remorse.
"There's naught for me to forgive," Sam countered, meaning every word. "Mr. Frodo, I know what - what he wanted to do to you. If you don't feel - "
"Sam," Frodo stopped his protests, laying a finger lightly across his lips. "There is nothing in your touch that I fear. You make me feel safe. I need you."
Sam was trembling now as well, overcome by emotion. "I need you too. More than you know, more than I can say. When you were gone, I couldn't see, or hear, or - or breathe." Sam pressed the palm of Frodo's hand flat against his own chest, gently holding it there as his heart pounded. Sam leaned in and returned Frodo's kiss gently, all his being singing as Frodo responded.
"Can you breathe now?" Frodo asked him afterward, and the light Sam had missed lately was dancing in his eyes again.
"Yes, Mr. Frodo. I can." He paused for a moment, and then asked, "Do you feel safe now?"
"Safer than I ever have," Frodo answered earnestly. He pulled back from Sam's embrace very briefly, just long enough to blow out the candle on the bedside table. He was sure he wouldn't be needing it anymore.
~*~ End~*~
Aratlithiel - How will Sam and Frodo get past those memories that are hanging around? Your question is answered here.
Endymion - Lots of anxiety in that last chapter, on both Sam and Frodo's parts! Now, to see what's going on with our hung over hobbit!
TTTurtle - Poor Frodo! Can Sam get him to talk this time? We'll see! This is the last chapter! Waahhh! What will I do now, I wonder? Adopt another homeless plotbunny perhaps.
Chapter 3 - Solace - the SLASH version
Sam had risen from his chair and was gazing out the bedroom window. Several times during the day, Frodo had awakened slightly, but only enough to groan softly and burrow back into the pillows again. Another soft moan drew Sam back to the bedside. Frodo had opened his eyes and was looking up at him in confusion.
"Sam, how - how did I get here?" He gasped and put a hand to the cloth on his forehead. "Ohhh, m'head hurts," he mumbled.
"You were in the parlor, Mr. Frodo, " Sam said quietly, resuming his seat. "I brought you here. You'd been - that is, you seem to have had- " Sam blushed slightly, frustrated with the trouble he was having telling his master of the state in which he had been found.
"Wine," Frodo breathed, still holding the cloth to his aching head. "Too much. Couldn't sleep." Frodo let his hand fall away from his forehead to his side, letting it rest against the soft fabric of the comforter.
Sam quickly took the cloth to the basin and dipped it in the cold water again. He wrung it out and placed it back on Frodo's forehead very gently. "I'm goin' to stay right here with you, Mr. Frodo, I promise," Sam told him, again taking the thin, long-fingered hand into his own.
"I'm glad, Sam. I'm sorry - "
"Don't you be sorry, Mr. Frodo," Sam said firmly. "You've been holdin' some hurt inside, I know," Sam said softly as he lightly brushed a stray curl out of Frodo's eyes. "I see it behind your eyes, when you look away at nothin'," he said. "You flinch at the smallest sound if it happens sudden like."
"Oh, Sam," Frodo breathed, closing his eyes. "I don't mean to hurt you with my foolish behavior. I just can't burden you with - "
"Burden me?" The depth of the distress in Sam's voice caused Frodo to stop short. "Nothin' you could do or say could be a burden to me, Mr. Frodo," Sam continued, his eyes pleading. "What burdens me most is that you won't let me in. You won't let go of whatever's hurtin' you and let me take it for you."
"But Sam, you don't know what you ask!" Frodo exclaimed, immediately wishing he had kept his voice lower. He continued more quietly. "I cannot ask you to bear for me what I cannot bear myself."
"Mr. Frodo," Sam answered quietly, "It's the very fact that you can't bear it that worries me." The cool, damp cloth had fallen away from Frodo's forehead against the coverlet and Sam replaced it very tenderly. "If you can't bear it, don't. Let it go."
Frodo looked very pale, and Sam realized he was in no condition to discuss the things that distressed him. "You need to rest for now, Mr. Frodo. I'll make you something for supper later on and we'll set you to rights, we will."
Sam rose from the bedside and slipped out of the room briefly. He returned a few moments later with a small pitcher of water and poured some into a glass, holding it to Frodo's lips so he could drink.
Frodo sipped it cautiously, knowing he needed it but not wanting to move his pounding head if he could help it. At least he wasn't overly nauseous. His stomach was telling him it didn't want food yet, but as long as he lay still, he didn't feel as though he would throw up. He lay back against the pillows with a sigh of relief and his eyes fluttered closed.
"Sam. My Sam, thank you," he whispered.
Sam forced himself to smile through his anxiety. "You just keep still and rest until you feel stronger, Mr. Frodo." He would stay at Frodo's bedside until his master was sleeping. He would then set about making something for him to eat later, when he was feeling better. It would be a late meal, by the look of things.
~*~
It was late. The sun had set and the candle stood burning on the nightstand. The aroma of chicken broth floated through the open door into the bedroom and Frodo woke. He felt much better for having rested, and the ache in his head had subsided to a dull throbbing in the background. The glass of water was easily within reach and he drained it eagerly as Sam stepped through the door holding a tray.
Sam's words repeated in his mind as he placed the glass back on the bedside table. 'Let it go.' Sam's words were simple, yet more eloquent than the finest Elvish poetry, spoken in perfect honesty. Was that what he needed to do to banish the horrible images from his mind?
"I've got some nice hot soup for you, Mr. Frodo," Sam entered the room with a tray in his hands, and placed it on the nightstand. "You look much better, if I may say so, Sir."
"I feel quite a bit better, thanks to you, Sam." Frodo smiled as he sat up slowly. "It was a foolish thing I did last night, most certainly," he confessed rather sheepishly. He took the spoon and tasted the broth. "It's heavenly, Sam. Thank you."
"You're welcome, Mr. Frodo," Sam replied, seating himself again.
Frodo made short work of the broth and the piece of bread Sam had brought him. It was not a large meal, but he didn't think he could handle much more just yet. He now remembered why he was not given to drinking large amounts of alcoholic beverages.
When Frodo finished the broth and bread, Sam took the tray away and returned to fix him with a stern gaze. "Mr. Frodo," he began slowly, not wanting to 'get above his station,' as his Gaffer would say. "Why were you - begging your pardon, Sir - sleeping in the parlor?" He flushed slightly as he continued. "You would have been better off here, in your bed."
Frodo knew he wouldn't be allowed to put Sam off for much longer regarding his current state of mind. Sam missed nothing. "It's so hard for me, Sam," he began. "It starts when I get close to this room. It's just like it was that night." The faraway look began to creep back into Frodo's features as he continued. "I walk in with the candle and set it down." his voice began to tremble slightly. "I know there's nobody else here, but I can still feel - " he broke off, feeling his control beginning to waver.
"It's all right, Mr. Frodo," Sam soothed. "Tell me."
"I can still feel his presence behind me. I can hear his voice in my ear and feel him - feel his hands on me. And when it's dark - " he stammered, his voice breaking, "when it's dark I hear him saying again that I am alone, and that you aren't going to come - "
"But you're not alone, Mr. Frodo," Sam said. "You won't be, not ever. He lied to you, no mistake."
"Yes, Sam. But then, it seemed - " Frodo had to stop and try to calm himself before going on. "It seemed as if the darkness was all that was left to me. Just the darkness, the pain and - and him." Frodo was trembling now, overwhelmed by the vividness of the memory. "If you hadn't come, Sam, he would have - he would -" Frodo couldn't finish, a sob rising in his throat and cutting off his words.
Sam couldn't bear it anymore. He sat on the bed and held Frodo as the fear and misery he had been holding back broke forth in a wave of bitter tears. "He's gone, Mr. Frodo. He won't touch you again. Not ever." Sam said, rubbing Frodo's back gently.
Frodo calmed slowly, allowing Sam to soothe him. Sam's fingers had moved to the back of his neck, combing slowly through the curls that lay against it. Frodo took several deep breaths and spoke again, before his resolve could fail him.
"Sam, I nearly escaped him," Frodo breathed. "I severed my bonds on the edge of a broken hearthstone, but he heard me as I opened the door." Frodo's fingers tightened on Sam's arm as he unburdened himself. "I ran into the forest, but he caught me, Sam!" He started to tremble again. "He caught me and struck me unconscious, then he dragged me back and left me in that room where you found me."
Fire flared in Sam's eyes but his arms were gentle as he hugged Frodo and spoke soft words of encouragement. "You tried, Mr. Frodo. I know you did. I know you didn't go easy," Sam said as he fought his own tears.
"I was beaten when I defied him, and - " Frodo ground his teeth and forced the words out. "When he didn't hit me, he - touched me, Sam. I was so hungry, so thirsty and so weak, I - I couldn't stop him! I couldn't!"
"I know, me dear, I know." And Sam did know. He had seen the bruises and he knew how weak Frodo had become by the time he had found him. "It's not your fault."
Frodo seemed not to hear him. His eyes were closed and his forehead rested against Sam's chest as he allowed his tale to make itself known. "When I gave him my signature on that document, I - I begged him to free me. I begged him, Sam!" Frodo gasped as the memory flooded his mind. "He wasn't going to let me go, not ever! I would still be there if not for you, Merry and Pippin."
Choking sobs racked his frame as Sam held him, the poison of his fear and pain draining from him with his tears. "I think he might have killed me, but not before - not until he - " No more words would come. The pain of his bruises, the pangs of his hunger, the fear, loathing and shame poured forth into the protective heart of one who loved him.
The hands that stroked his hair and the arms that encircled him had only the solace of love to offer, only the willingness to take his pain and bear it away. Nothing more could he ask for, and nothing more did he need.
When Sam touched him, he felt safe, and he felt the darkness, his enemy, driven back as if by a gleaming blade as warmth and kindness took its place. He never wanted to move from that embrace again, now that it had been restored to him, seemingly against all possible odds.
Tears still lingering on his lashes, Frodo looked up into Sam's eyes. They were beautiful eyes, the most beautiful he had ever seen. Honest and gentle and looking back into his steadily, shining with tears of their own. He had thought he would never see them again, would never again feel a touch that was gentle and caring. His lips were no more than a whisper from Sam's and he closed the distance between them, trusting.
A few moments later, his lips still burning from the kiss, Sam whispered, "Mr. Frodo?"
"Oh, Sam! Forgive me," Frodo said, beginning to pull away in remorse.
"There's naught for me to forgive," Sam countered, meaning every word. "Mr. Frodo, I know what - what he wanted to do to you. If you don't feel - "
"Sam," Frodo stopped his protests, laying a finger lightly across his lips. "There is nothing in your touch that I fear. You make me feel safe. I need you."
Sam was trembling now as well, overcome by emotion. "I need you too. More than you know, more than I can say. When you were gone, I couldn't see, or hear, or - or breathe." Sam pressed the palm of Frodo's hand flat against his own chest, gently holding it there as his heart pounded. Sam leaned in and returned Frodo's kiss gently, all his being singing as Frodo responded.
"Can you breathe now?" Frodo asked him afterward, and the light Sam had missed lately was dancing in his eyes again.
"Yes, Mr. Frodo. I can." He paused for a moment, and then asked, "Do you feel safe now?"
"Safer than I ever have," Frodo answered earnestly. He pulled back from Sam's embrace very briefly, just long enough to blow out the candle on the bedside table. He was sure he wouldn't be needing it anymore.
~*~ End~*~