That's it. Sam slammed down his pen and paper, resolute. He was tired of
wondering and dreaming and wishing, staying up late and writing stupid
poems. He was going to do it. Nothing was going to stop him. He just wasn't
sure how to do it. When it finally hit him, he smiled wide. Subconsciously,
he knew that the odds of it working were slim. Frodo probably won't hear
it. But still, at least he can say he tried.
* * *
Frodo walked into Bag End and put his cell phone on the charger. Damn thing ran out right as he was trying to page Bilbo, to ask if he should pick up something for dinner. Frodo fell heavily into a chair. He turned on the tv. Nothing good was on. Spongebob Shirepants. Fairly Odd Hobbits. Survivor: Mt. Doom. Lad Meets Lad. He sighed and turned off the tv. He logged onto the Middle-earth wide web. Checked his e-mail. All junk mail. Long, luxurious foot hair in just three days! Tired of those enormous long- shanks looking down on you? New, Unisex Hobbit Heels! Busty Shield Maidens Gone Wild! Order now! He signed off, and went into the kitchen. He decided to give the radio a try. Frodo didn't do this often, he hated the stupid commercials. But this time, when the commercials began, he didn't turn it off. Something told him to keep it on. After the last commercial, a silky, low, male voice came on.
"We have a special dedication, to 'Mr. Frodo of Hobbiton, from his secret crush, if you follow me'. Good luck with that, son. And here it is..."
Frodo gasped as he heard fast tango-like music come on. He listened to the words.
"Man it's a hot one. Like seven inches from the mid-day sun. I hear you whisper and your words, melt everyone, but you stay so cool." Frodo could not believe it. Someone dedicated this song to him? He knew since his coming of age was just around the corner, people may start showing interest. But who was it? Secret crush? 'Good luck with that, son?' Did this mean that a lad of the Shire...fancied Frodo? As he was trying to think of who it could be over the radio, which was now singing "Give me your heart, make it real, or else forget about it," he heard a knock at the door.
"It's open!" he called. Five seconds later a red faced Sam could be seen coming into the kitchen. "Hello Sam! Have you been listening to the radio at all today? I just got a dedication!"
Sam's face turned an even more furious shade of red. "No, Mr. Frodo sir, I haven't been listenin' to the radio today, leastways not yet." Frodo was about to say something along the lines of 'that's to bad', when it hit him. Mr. Frodo. That was who the dedication was to. No one called him Mr. Frodo but the Gamgees. And he was quite certain that the Gaffer was not interested...He gave Sam a searching look. Sam quickly averted his eyes.
"I think I'll be going out to the garden now, Mr. Frodo." As Sam walked out, he was shaking his head in disbelief. He never thought Frodo would have been listening, or else he wouldn't have done it. Now he would know, and everything would be ruined. He didn't even know if Frodo would like a lad such as himself, or even a lad at all.
Frodo was still in the kitchen, staring into the sink in disbelief. Frodo had always liked Sam, although liked is an understatement. He just assumed Sam would think he's to young for Frodo, or that a Gamgee could never be with a Baggins. Frodo knew he would have to tell Sam that the feeling was mutual. He walked out into the garden.
"Sam, could you come here for a moment?"
"Yes sir," Sam said, brushing his hand off on his trousers. Sam had never been so nervous in his entire life. Did Frodo know? What would he say?
"Sam, I was listening to the radio, and I heard what you did."
This blunt honesty was not what Sam was expecting. He looked down at his toes, not knowing what to say. Frodo put his hand on Sam's chin and lifted his head.
"Sam, why didn't you tell me sooner?" Frodo asked, smiling. Sam didn't not know what to make of this.
"Well, Mr. Frodo, I just didn't know...I wasn't sure just how to...you being a Baggins, and me your gardener an' all, if you get my meaning."
Frodo shook his head, still smiling. "Sam, you're my friend. And I really wish you would have told me!"
"Why...why is that," Sam held his breath, wondering if he should..."why is that, Frodo?" Frodo noted the absence of the Mister and smiled.
"Because, dear Sam. I like you, too."
Sam's eyes lit up. He smiled so big, his face threatened to split in two. He felt as though a thousand pound weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. He didn't know what to say, so he simply took Frodo into an embrace. This seemed to be enough for Frodo. After they held each other for five minutes that felt like five years, Frodo grabbed Sam's shoulders and held him at arms length. He saw tears streaked down Sam's face. When Frodo saw this, all the tears he had been wanting to cry for years came out in a sudden rush. Frodo had been waiting for this moment for so long, longer than he could remember. But now that it was here, it didn't seem like it could possibly be happening. When it finally hit him, he couldn't hold back anymore. The two hobbits stood in the garden, holding each other, crying and crying.
"Well my dear, what do you suppose we should do now?" Frodo asked, wiping away Sam's tears.
"I don't know. I reckon we should just take it as it comes."
Frodo smiled. "Yes, I suppose that's all we can do. But it is getting late, and Bilbo will be home soon. And I know your old Gaffer will be wanting you back soon."
"Yes, your right about that, Mr... er, Frodo. So I suppose I'll be seeing you tomorrow, then."
"Yes Sam. Tomorrow. And the next day. And the next."
Sam smiled, and ventured a small kiss on Frodo's cheek. He turned around and walked home, concentrating every fiber of his being on not skipping and shouting for the sheer joy of being alive and in love.
* * *
Frodo walked into Bag End and put his cell phone on the charger. Damn thing ran out right as he was trying to page Bilbo, to ask if he should pick up something for dinner. Frodo fell heavily into a chair. He turned on the tv. Nothing good was on. Spongebob Shirepants. Fairly Odd Hobbits. Survivor: Mt. Doom. Lad Meets Lad. He sighed and turned off the tv. He logged onto the Middle-earth wide web. Checked his e-mail. All junk mail. Long, luxurious foot hair in just three days! Tired of those enormous long- shanks looking down on you? New, Unisex Hobbit Heels! Busty Shield Maidens Gone Wild! Order now! He signed off, and went into the kitchen. He decided to give the radio a try. Frodo didn't do this often, he hated the stupid commercials. But this time, when the commercials began, he didn't turn it off. Something told him to keep it on. After the last commercial, a silky, low, male voice came on.
"We have a special dedication, to 'Mr. Frodo of Hobbiton, from his secret crush, if you follow me'. Good luck with that, son. And here it is..."
Frodo gasped as he heard fast tango-like music come on. He listened to the words.
"Man it's a hot one. Like seven inches from the mid-day sun. I hear you whisper and your words, melt everyone, but you stay so cool." Frodo could not believe it. Someone dedicated this song to him? He knew since his coming of age was just around the corner, people may start showing interest. But who was it? Secret crush? 'Good luck with that, son?' Did this mean that a lad of the Shire...fancied Frodo? As he was trying to think of who it could be over the radio, which was now singing "Give me your heart, make it real, or else forget about it," he heard a knock at the door.
"It's open!" he called. Five seconds later a red faced Sam could be seen coming into the kitchen. "Hello Sam! Have you been listening to the radio at all today? I just got a dedication!"
Sam's face turned an even more furious shade of red. "No, Mr. Frodo sir, I haven't been listenin' to the radio today, leastways not yet." Frodo was about to say something along the lines of 'that's to bad', when it hit him. Mr. Frodo. That was who the dedication was to. No one called him Mr. Frodo but the Gamgees. And he was quite certain that the Gaffer was not interested...He gave Sam a searching look. Sam quickly averted his eyes.
"I think I'll be going out to the garden now, Mr. Frodo." As Sam walked out, he was shaking his head in disbelief. He never thought Frodo would have been listening, or else he wouldn't have done it. Now he would know, and everything would be ruined. He didn't even know if Frodo would like a lad such as himself, or even a lad at all.
Frodo was still in the kitchen, staring into the sink in disbelief. Frodo had always liked Sam, although liked is an understatement. He just assumed Sam would think he's to young for Frodo, or that a Gamgee could never be with a Baggins. Frodo knew he would have to tell Sam that the feeling was mutual. He walked out into the garden.
"Sam, could you come here for a moment?"
"Yes sir," Sam said, brushing his hand off on his trousers. Sam had never been so nervous in his entire life. Did Frodo know? What would he say?
"Sam, I was listening to the radio, and I heard what you did."
This blunt honesty was not what Sam was expecting. He looked down at his toes, not knowing what to say. Frodo put his hand on Sam's chin and lifted his head.
"Sam, why didn't you tell me sooner?" Frodo asked, smiling. Sam didn't not know what to make of this.
"Well, Mr. Frodo, I just didn't know...I wasn't sure just how to...you being a Baggins, and me your gardener an' all, if you get my meaning."
Frodo shook his head, still smiling. "Sam, you're my friend. And I really wish you would have told me!"
"Why...why is that," Sam held his breath, wondering if he should..."why is that, Frodo?" Frodo noted the absence of the Mister and smiled.
"Because, dear Sam. I like you, too."
Sam's eyes lit up. He smiled so big, his face threatened to split in two. He felt as though a thousand pound weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. He didn't know what to say, so he simply took Frodo into an embrace. This seemed to be enough for Frodo. After they held each other for five minutes that felt like five years, Frodo grabbed Sam's shoulders and held him at arms length. He saw tears streaked down Sam's face. When Frodo saw this, all the tears he had been wanting to cry for years came out in a sudden rush. Frodo had been waiting for this moment for so long, longer than he could remember. But now that it was here, it didn't seem like it could possibly be happening. When it finally hit him, he couldn't hold back anymore. The two hobbits stood in the garden, holding each other, crying and crying.
"Well my dear, what do you suppose we should do now?" Frodo asked, wiping away Sam's tears.
"I don't know. I reckon we should just take it as it comes."
Frodo smiled. "Yes, I suppose that's all we can do. But it is getting late, and Bilbo will be home soon. And I know your old Gaffer will be wanting you back soon."
"Yes, your right about that, Mr... er, Frodo. So I suppose I'll be seeing you tomorrow, then."
"Yes Sam. Tomorrow. And the next day. And the next."
Sam smiled, and ventured a small kiss on Frodo's cheek. He turned around and walked home, concentrating every fiber of his being on not skipping and shouting for the sheer joy of being alive and in love.