The Travelers
by Gillian
Gift from the Elves.
"Sam! Look!" Frodo exclaimed, and Sam leaned over and peered down at Fael in alarm. "He's smiling!" Sam puffed out a breath of relief then began to grin.
Pippin exchanged a glance with Merry. "He's always smiling."
"Not like this," Sam said in satisfaction. "That's a real smile and no mistake."
They had just passed through Bywater into Hobbiton, and Frodo was riding on the seat next to Sam, cradling Fael high in his arms and pointing out the sights to him.
"He knows he's home," Frodo said proudly, kissing the little nodding head tenderly. "Don't you, Fael? You know you're home."
"I can't believe how many trees are gone," Bilbo said sadly.
"But you can already see it's better than it was," Sam said in excitement, glad all his hard work planting had made a difference. "What a fine year they must have had!"
"Best anyone can ever remember," Merry confirmed from his saddle, pointing into the distance. "The best surprise is yet to come, Sam. Wait till you see where the old Party Tree used to stand."
And when they arrived at the Party Field they all climbed off the cart and ponies and stood staring in wonder. There a large sapling stood, all silver bark and long leaves. Heavy buds were forming and it was clear that soon it would be a riot of blooms. Frodo felt tears in his eyes and when he looked at Sam he saw he was weeping unashamedly.
"Look, Fael," he whispered, holding Fael up. "It's a mallorn tree. It was a gift from the elves, just like you were." And Fael graced the mallorn with one of his real smiles. Frodo wrapped an arm around Sam and they stood together for a long time just staring at the tree they would spend the rest of their lives celebrating under.
"It's like my gaffer said," Sam said thickly. "It's an ill wind that blows nobody no good."
Finally Bilbo called a halt to their wonder, prosaic as usual. "We're a stone's throw from home, lads," he cried. "And I for one could murder a cup of tea."
"I'm starved," Pippin agreed, swinging back up on his pony.
"Next stop home," Frodo said, handing Fael up to Sam and climbing nimbly up beside him. He took Fael back and waved at some hobbits who were staring at them from the road. "Hie, Farmer Cotton!" he hailed happily. "Look, Sam, friendly faces!"
"Nibs! Tom!" Sam greeted, raising his hand in an exuberant wave. "How about the new tree then? Isn't it a wonder!!"
"Sam!" Nibs yelled, waving back in excitement.
"We wondered when you'd be back to see its progress," Farmer Cotton said with a wide grin. He took in the whole party and doffed his hat respectfully. "Well, if it isn't a whole herd of traveler's coming home again! Mister Bilbo, sir, it's good to see you!"
"Good to see you too!" Bilbo called, waving grandly from his perch in the cart.
"Welcome home!" Tom called as they rattled by and Frodo smiled and nodded, aware of their wondering curious eyes on them. They must make quite a sight, he thought, in their elven cart piled with their goods and Bilbo in his chair. Not to mention him riding up front with a tiny baby in his arms. He held Fael up again as they trundled around the bend, and there before them was Bag End, drowsing in the noon day heat, looking not that much different from the first time he'd left it, years before now.
"Home," Bilbo said in satisfaction, and Frodo cuddled Fael close and whispered in his little pointed ear.
"Home."
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"There's a ham hanging in the first pantry," Pippin called out. "And some preserves and pickles and such. So we won't starve."
"But the second pantry is bare," Frodo said in dismay. "I've never seen such a sad sight."
"We can scratch a quick meal now," Sam agreed. "But we'll need to stock up soon."
They assembled a finer meal than they thought they'd could with what they had available, and they made short work of it all, wiping plates clean with the last of the bread they'd purchased from the farmer by the bridge. They had to settle for tea without milk, for Fael's was already mixed with the special powder from Nestadren, and Frodo would not waste it.
"I reckon a scouting party is in order," Merry said firmly. "Mrs. Hill will have some pies to sell us, I'm sure."
"And the Cottons are bound to have some eggs and cream and cheese," Sam said, rubbing his hands together. "Good idea."
"We'll go, Sam," Merry offered. "You need to get everyone settled in with their bags and baggage. I could do with stretching my legs after that ride. Pip?"
"Aye, although I'd rather find a sunny patch and have a nap," Pippin said with a stretch.
"See how soft he's gotten!" Merry exclaimed. "You'd think he'd never been adventuring at all. We'll take the ponies to Farmer Cotton, Sam, and see if he'll stable them for us."
Sam nodded and stood wearily. "Let's get this cart emptied then."
888
Frodo lay Fael in his basket, stroking the side of his face and down his chin as he always did.
"Maybe I should just go see him myself, this first time," Sam said nervously.
Frodo raised one brow. "Sam," he chided. "You've been longing to introduce your son to your father for months."
"But what am I going to say to him?" Sam burst out. "There's so much to tell him all at once, and I don't think he's going to understand or like most of it!"
"Then start with something he can understand and will like," Frodo said firmly. "There's plenty of time for the rest." He pushed the basket into Sam's hands. "And before he finds out all the rest see if he'll make us a crib, will you?"
"You mean before he finds out that I've changed my name, that we're in love with each other and I'm not moving home?" Sam said bluntly, accepting the basket and tucking one sturdy arm through its handle.
"Yes." Frodo stared him down for a moment and then they both began to chuckle.
"Well, if he won't make us a crib I'll do it myself," Sam said.
Frodo raised both brows this time, then nodded. "Wonderful," he managed.
Sam cast him a suspicious look but Frodo determinedly kept his smile in place. He patted Sam on the shoulder and saw him out the door.
"Correct me if I'm wrong, lad," Bilbo said from his seat at the table. "But didn't Sam give you a carved footstool for his birthday once?"
Frodo sat down with a sigh and reached for his teacup. "Yes, it was lovely, it had acorns and leaves carved on it."
"Hmm, yes," Bilbo said thoughtfully. "Yes, the carving was nice, I recall. But I'm remembering the first time you put your feet up on it."
"I know." Frodo said gloomily. "Two of the legs fell off."
Bilbo snorted into his cup. "Still, lad, you can console yourself with the thought that cribs don't generally have legs."
"They may if Sam is making them," Frodo groaned. Then he chuckled. "What does console me is that there are some things Sam can't do. It's quite comforting actually."
"Ah yes," Bilbo said into his tea. "Perfect Sam."
Now it was Frodo's turn to cast a suspicious look and Bilbo's to look innocent.
"What?" the old hobbit said.
Frodo just shook his head, predicting that the next few months would be interesting to say the least.
888
Despite Sam's nervousness at the thought of facing his father he couldn't help but feel his heart lifting as he walked down the road to number three. The sun was shining, the sky was blue, and he could see from here that the Shire was beginning to look more like its old self than ever. He looked down at Fael asleep in his basket and couldn't help grinning. That was good Shire sunlight glowing on his pink face, and even as Sam watched his son kicked his covers off his strong little legs and opened his wide blue eyes.
"There's my sleepy lad," Sam chuckled, sitting down on the grass verge with a bump and lifting Fael out. He sat the baby on his knee, strong hands around his body, smiling as Fael lifted his nodding head all by himself. "Look around you, Fael," he said to sleepy eyes. "This is your home. Down this road your dad used to run every day, following after his dad."
Fael yawned widely, little fists waving at his father's deep voice.
"Now you've got to understand my gaffer," Sam told his son thoughtfully. "He's as tough an old hobbit as you'll ever meet. Knows what's what, knows what's right, knows what's wrong with the world and knows how to fix it. That might seem to you, my lad, a tough thing to live up to."
Fael watched his father's face with his fixed gaze and cooed to show his appreciation of the attention.
"But for all his high standards and big lectures you remember one thing. You're his family, Fael. He'll not forget it believe me. And when things get tough and you need anything, you run to your granddad, and he'll see you right." Sam lifted his son and kissed his little pink cheek, then tucked him against his shoulder.
"So you pay him no never mind if he blusters a bit today," Sam counseled, standing up with the empty basket under his arm. "It just means he's been worried about me, same as I would be about you if you ever took it into your head to run off to see the elves without me."
Sam stopped and looked down into Fael's wide eyes. "Don't do that, all right?" He stroked the narrow little back, loving the tiny little breaths and the feel of that strong heart beating under his fingers. "I'll make sure you don't." Sam decided.
Hamfast Gamgee was sitting by his front gate, pipe smoke wreathed around his head, old eyes half shut against the afternoon sun. Sam slowed as he approached, a thousand memories from the past crowding him at the sight. He couldn't help noticing how white his dad's hair was, how lined and worn his old hand looked gripping his pipe. It had been a hard few years for the old hobbit, losing his home and then having to remake it again. Sam felt a pang of guilt at having had to desert him during those times, but Fael's warmth against his shoulder reminded him why it had been necessary.
Both times.
"Da," he called out softly and Ham straightened with a start. "Just restin' my eyes!" he snapped, and then focused on Sam by the gate.
"Sam!" he cried gladly, getting stiffly to his feet. Then he frowned and sat back down with a bump. "Bout time you showed up," he growled. "Last on your list for visiting was I?"
Sam grinned, delighted that his dad's true feelings had shown, even for just a moment. "Good to see you too, da."
"Hmph," the gaffer said doubtfully. He frowned and squinted at Sam. "Is this that baby I've been hearing about all day?"
"I see the gossip has raced before me," Sam said, cradling Fael back in one arm and pushing through the gate into the front yard. "I wanted to introduce you to my son before you got to hear about him from anyone else."
Hamfast gaped at him in surprise. "Your son?" He stood again and frowned down at the bundle in Sam's arms. Fael's blue blanket had been kicked away again and his eyes were closed, but his little mouth was pursed and sucking gently as he dozed. "I heard tell it was Mr. Frodo cradling him to his breast on that cart you rode in on."
Sam chuckled that the speed of Shire gossip hadn't changed at any rate. "It was," he confirmed. "And when we have the time and a good few ales have been sunk I'll tell you a lot more on the subject. But for now, da, this is Fael. Your grandson."
Ham sat back on the bench in surprise, his strong old hands reaching out as Sam laid the dozing hobbit into his arms.
"Well," the gaffer blustered, then wound down, as if unable to think of anything to say. "Well..." He touched one finger to a smooth cheek in wonder.
Sam sat by his father, heart full in his chest. He couldn't have wished for a better homecoming.
"Well that's your lad all right," Ham said huskily, then cleared his throat. "That's a Gamgee face and no doubt."
Chuckling, Sam looked over his dad's shoulder. "So some as said," he agreed.
Hamfast sniffed and looked at his son sternly. "And where's his mother then? If it wasn't for these good strong hobbit feet on the lad I'd take him for a half elf babe, golden curls and all."
"He's not half elven, da. But he does owe his life to the elves and no mistake." Sam smiled, finding this a lot easier now it came down to it. "Fael was a gift from the elves, da. He was made to save Mr. Frodo's life, and he did it too, before he was even born."
The gaffer frowned. "How did he do that?"
Sam shook his head. "It's hard to explain, da, although I will try, I promise. Later, hmm?"
Hamfast narrowed his eyes at Sam thoughtfully. "You've got secrets in your eyes, boy," he accused. "And that's a first. When have you ever kept secrets from your old gaffer?"
"When they're not all my secrets to keep," Sam said firmly.
"Hmm," Ham said again. He looked down at Fael laying so trustingly in his arms and the baby snuffled and yawned, big blue eyes opening and blinking, large lashes sweeping soft cheeks. The gaffer drew in a surprised breath, eyes flicking to Sam and back to Fael. "Well look at you," Ham whispered. "Where did you get those big blue eyes? Fael is it? Not a bad name if it is a bit elfish."
Ham turned and pinned Sam in place with his gaze. "Secrets you may keep, but you've never been able to lie to me, Samwise. This is truly your son?"
Sam met his father's gaze clearly. "Yes, da. I'm his father."
A shaking finger touched Fael's cheek again and a small hand came up and reached for it. Ham let him grab it and huffed a small laugh as the strong grip drew the blunt finger to rosebud lips. "He sure does have a look of you about him," Ham mused quietly. "Gift from the elves, you say? Well, you always did have your head in the clouds about them folk." He turned to Sam again. "Better take him, I reckon I need a smoke."
Sam gathered Fael up while Ham fumbled for his pipe, muttering under his breath to find it gone out. The old hobbit knocked it against the side of the stone bench.
"And Mr. Frodo then, he's all well?"
Sam smiled widely. "Yes, da," Sam said proudly. "Frodo's cured."
"Then you done what you set out to do, Sam." Hamfast lit his pipe and took a deep draw. "I was going to tell you your room's all ready and waiting for you, but I reckon you've got other ideas?"
Sam wondered what those old eyes were seeing exactly.
"I'll be staying at Bag End," he confirmed.
"Aye, thought so." Ham puffed contentedly for a few minutes. "Looks like you and I have a lot of things to discuss, Sam. But I don't reckon now's the time, with that wide eyed lad between us."
"No, da," Sam said, swallowing.
"So you settle in back there at Bag End, and send all my best to Mr. Frodo, and Mr. Bilbo too, if what I hear is right and he come riding back in that cart you was drivin'."
"He did, da, and I will."
"And when you're all done settlin' you come back and see me and we'll have that good long chat I reckon I'm owed."
And feeling like he was just a lad again himself, Sam turned to the gate. Then he paused and turned back.
"Oh, da," he said nervously. "We, um, I was wondering if you'd have time to make Fael a crib? He's growing out of his basket."
"You've got my grandson sleeping in a basket?" Ham demanded.
"It's all he's needed so far. If you don't have time I can make one myself-"
"No," Ham said hastily. "I have time. It'll be my gift to him. Maybe you could do the carvin', Sam? My old hands aren't up to fancy work."
Sam frowned, then shrugged. "I suppose I could," he allowed, then smiled at his dad. "Thanks, da."
"You take care of yourself, Sam," Ham ordered. "And that babe."
888
The kettle was boiling on the hob and supper was laid out so Frodo decided to take a look around his study. Sam found him muttering over his book shelves.
"I'm never going to get this lot straight," he was complaining to himself.
Sam leaned in and kissed him on his cheek, making him jump.
"That was quick!" Frodo exclaimed. He peeked into Fael's basket. "Still asleep?"
"He woke once or twice," Sam said, sitting with a sigh. "Long enough to flash them handsome eyes of his at my dad."
"So how did it go then?"
"Better than I thought," Sam said hopefully, laying the basket on the desk and tucking Fael's blanket back around his legs. "But I think I'm in for some tough questions later."
"Rather you than me," Frodo said fervently, sitting down by Sam on the narrow seat, making him chuckle. "And how did he like his new grandson?"
Sam smiled reminiscently. "I think he likes him just fine." He wrapped one arm around him and Frodo curled closer. "I was that proud, Frodo, to see my dad holding him in his arms."
Frodo didn't resist the urge to kiss Sam's neck fondly.
Sam's eyes twinkled. "Did I thank you yet? For giving me a son?"
Frodo tilted his head thoughtfully. "You know, I'm not sure you did."
Sam's strong fingers took his chin and Frodo shivered in anticipation as Sam's eyes creased with his gentle smile. "Thank you," he whispered, and then he was gently touching his lips to Frodo's. Frodo reached up and cupped his firm jaw.
As long as he lived he would never stop being amazed by how Sam's touch could fill his heart and stir his blood. How strong hands that touched him so gently left fire in their wake. Sam's firm lips curved and just the tip of his tongue stroked Frodo's and sobbing in a breath Frodo cupped both hands around Sam's head and parted his lips, slanting his head and moaning in his throat as Sam pressed deeper.
"Oh, Sam," he whispered when their lips parted a little. "I've missed this."
"It has been a long trip," Sam said huskily, calloused hand sliding along Frodo's jaw line, thumb touching slightly swollen lips.
Frodo cupped the hand at his jaw and then drew it down, unresisting to lay over the soft curve of his belly.
"All healed?" Sam whispered in his ear, and just the way he asked sent another shiver down Frodo's skin. He could only nod. "And tonight we have our own wide bed and a stout door we can lock."
There was a blush climbing Frodo's face, he could feel it but he couldn't stop it. Sam chuckled in delight and kissed one pointed ear, nibbling on it deliciously and causing Frodo to squirm. "I love to make you blush."
"I bet I can make you blush too," Frodo said breathlessly.
"I bet you can too." Sam swung him around and bent him back over his arm and Frodo couldn't help the cry of delight as the world tilted and Sam attacked his neck with his lips, pressing a suckling kiss to the pulse.
"I think we better come back later," a sibilant whisper from outside the door sounded and Sam froze.
"Be quiet, Pip!" another louder whisper rung out. "You'll embarrass them!"
"Me?" Pippin demanded hotly and Frodo couldn't help giggling at Sam's flushed ears. The sturdy hobbit groaned and buried his face in Frodo's neck again, this time to muffle his laughter.
"When will we be alone?" His groan was heartfelt.
Frodo struggled free and stood, making sure his collar was pulled around his throat. "About thirty-three years," he predicted airily, and then opened the door.
Merry and Pippin stood outside toe to toe, fingers pointing accusingly at each other.
"Oh, Frodo, good," Pip said, looking over with a smile. "We didn't want to disturb you."
"You already disturbed them," Merry grumbled behind him.
"There was nothing to disturb," Sam said firmly, pushing past Frodo with Fael's basket under his arm. "It's time to feed the baby."
"I'll do it, Sam," Pippin volunteered, trotting after him eagerly. "That's why I was coming, I have his milk all warmed."
Merry shrugged. "Sorry, Frodo," he said apologetically.
"It's all right,' Frodo grinned. "It was just a warm up for tonight anyway." And he walked away chuckling at the knowledge that he could make Merry blush at least.
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"So Mrs. Hill said she'd be glad to do for you again, Frodo, when it comes to baking, if that's what you want." Merry munched a slice of egg and bacon pie appreciatively. "I must say, she's a fine cook."
Pippin opened his mouth and Merry sighed resignedly and popped a forkful into the waiting hobbit's mouth.
"Mmm," Pip agreed. "Quite nice."
"Why do I have to feed you?" Merry demanded to know.
"Because I'm feeding Fael," Pippin said, rolling his eyes as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Fael stared at him intently, little hands already trying to reach for the bottle he was suckling on.
"Can't you wait and eat after?"
Pippin gave him an incredulous look and opened his mouth again. Merry gave in and forked over another bite.
"I could do some of the cooking," Bilbo volunteered. "I still have that poppy seed cake recipe you like, Frodo."
"No one makes it like you do, Bilbo," Frodo said in delight. "But I'll still buy Mrs. Hill's baked goods when she has them to sell. I want to help Sam in the garden and Fael needs taking care of, so it'll save us time."
"How much trouble can Fael be? He only sleeps and eats," Merry pointed out. "Rather like Pip actually."
"I've noticed you've avoided the pleasure of a nappy change so far, haven't you, Merry?" Sam pointed a finger to the laundry down the hall. "We're not among the elves now where everything is done for us."
"At least I'm being helpful," Pippin said piously. "Hey!" he objected when his intended mouthful detoured to Merry's mouth instead.
Frodo looked around the table at his chatting family and couldn't help the joy that welled up inside him. All the lonely years and dark times were melting away like ice in the sun, and suddenly he had everything he had ever wanted, without even knowing he had wanted it.
"You can do the dishes then," Merry proclaimed. "Since you're being so helpful."
"And you can learn how to change a nappy," Sam interjected with a grin and Merry's mouth turned down.
"Let's go sit under the stars, lad, hmm?" Bilbo invited. "It's been a long time since we sat together out on our seat."
Frodo took Bilbo's arm and helped him up from the chair, feeling the frailty of the old bones under his hand. But the bleary old eyes still had their snap of intelligence, and there was strength enough left in his legs to make it to the old stone bench that overlooked the fields.
"It's good to be home," Frodo sighed and Bilbo just smiled and nodded. They chatted for a while about the changes to the Shire, and within minutes he was snoring gently. Frodo sat contentedly with his arm around his uncle, staring up at the stars over his homeland.
"Napping again?" Merry whispered, and Frodo smiled over his shoulder and made room for his cousin's warmth on the bench next to him. "Wish I'd thought of that. Sam's a tyrant."
"Made you change the nappy after all did he?" Frodo chuckled.
"I changed my mind about fatherhood pretty quick, I can tell you," Merry confirmed with a shudder. "Else I'll marry a lass who knows wench's work when she see it."
"Good luck with that," Frodo raised a skeptical brow and Merry snorted.
They sat in silence for a while, hearing the clank of dishes from the kitchen, and a scrap of song from Pippin as he worked. Something smashed and Frodo winced.
"It's good to have you home, Frodo," Merry said at last. He wrapped his arm around Frodo's shoulders. "In case I haven't said it before, we missed you!"
"We missed you too,' Frodo said softly. "There were times I longed for your advice and counsel, Merry. Your good sense." Frodo sighed. "I made some foolish mistakes. Things I'll never be able to take back."
"You had some hard choices," Merry said huskily. "But for what it's worth I think you made the right ones in the end."
Frodo looked at him gratefully. "Do you?"
Merry nodded. "If you're happy, Frodo. What else really matters?"
"Making Sam happy," Frodo said simply.
Merry gave him an exasperated look. "Sam's as happy as he can be," he chided. "And you two deserve each other! He's worrying about you all the time and you about him. However did you both manage on your own? It's a wonder you didn't self-sacrifice your way right out of each other's lives!"
"We almost did," Frodo said somberly, then he shook himself and smiled. "I told you we needed your good sense, Merry! You'd have seen the way we were pussy footing around one another and banged our heads together."
"That's what friends are for," Merry confirmed, his eyes a little anxious as he studied Frodo in the moonlight.
Frodo laid a comforting hand on his arm. "I'm all right," he said softly. "I've yet to forgive myself is all, for some of the things I've done. I'll sort through it."
"Don't keep it to yourself,' Merry advised and Frodo looked away, not wanting his cousin to see what might be in his eyes. There were plenty of things about those days in Rivendell he was keeping to himself, things he had never told Sam and never would. The poison of his body might have been cured, but the darkness in his heart wasn't conquered quite yet.
"I mean it, Frodo," Merry insisted. "You want to make Sam happy? Well the last thing he'd want is for you to worry yourself over the past. Or the things that might have been either."
Frodo frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Well, I've been thinking about what you said the other day, about Sam not fathering any more children."
"Yes?"
"What about you, Frodo? There'll be no more children for you either, if you and Sam stay together."
"Me?" Frodo half laughed.
"Yes, you," Merry insisted. "You might have met a nice lass, now you're well, and settled down to father a brood of nippers. Doesn't that lost future worry you?"
Frodo shrugged, huffing out a thoughtful breath. "I honestly never thought about it," he admitted. "I never even thought about a future until we made Fael, and after that all I thought about was Sam."
"I wonder if Sam ever worries about what you might have missed out on," Merry pondered thoughtfully. "Being with him."
Frodo shook his head. "I never thought about that either."
"Then it's a good reason to do as Merry suggests," Bilbo said from under arm. "And talk to each other!" Then he yawned widely. "Time I was in bed." He shot Frodo a stern glance. "It's just as well I came home with you, lad. Otherwise who knows what tangles you'd get your head into?"
"Born worrier," Merry pronounced and Bilbo nodded sagely.
Frodo groaned as his two cousins nodded at each other in satisfaction. Now they were ganging up on him!
"Don't worry, Frodo," Merry told him as they helped Bilbo into the house, one on each side. "We'll get the pair of you sorted out, won't we Bilbo?"
"But we are sorted out," Frodo protested. They paid him no mind and he stood in the hall and watched them make their way to Bilbo's bedroom.
"And to think I was glad to have family around me," Frodo muttered.
"I'm up for a drink!" Pippin called down the hall. "Who'll join me?"
"Not I," Sam said from behind him. "And keep your voice down, I'd like a few hours rest before that babe starts frettin' again."
"And it's been a long day," Merry called quietly from Bilbo's room. "Come and help me sort out Bilbo's things, Pip, then I'm off to my rest."
"You're all weaklings!" Pip exclaimed. He looked across the hall pathetically. "You'll join me in a drink, won't you, Frodo?"
Aware of Sam's knowing gaze on him Frodo fought down a blush. "Sorry, Pip," he said breathlessly. "I need a wash and then I'm away. Night all!"
Merry winked over Pip's crestfallen shoulder at him as he walked past and Frodo suppressed a grin and hurried down the hall. He had a few things he wanted to take care of before bed, and washing was just one of them.
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Sam wasn't in bed when Frodo tentatively opened the door into their room. He was standing by the window, looking out into the dark night.
"Sam?" Frodo watched as Sam turned and looked at him. He was wearing his nightshirt, but his hands were gripping each other and his eyes darted back to the window shyly.
Frodo crossed the room and stood behind him, letting one hand rest on a broad shoulder. "Nervous?" he whispered.
Sam groaned and curved an arm around his waist. "I'm a darn fool."
"It has been a long time," Frodo said in understanding.
"I- I feel a bit out of place, if I'm honest," Sam admitted softly. "Here in your fine bedroom."
Frodo looked around his room in confusion. "It's not as fine as any room in Rivendell."
"But it's your room," Sam said, his shoulders twitching. "And up till now the only time I've seen it has been from outside this window looking in."
"Ah," Frodo murmured, curving a bit closer. "That's not entirely true."
Sam slanted him a glance. "What?"
"You don't remember?" Frodo sighed. "The first time we shared a bed and you don't remember. I'm hurt."
Now Sam was facing him, a frown on his brow. "Shared a bed?"
Frodo pulled away and sat down on the edge of his big bed, leaning back and smiling gently at Sam. "It was a long time ago," he allowed.
Sam titled his head an looked suspicious, but he joined him on the bed anyway. "We never shared this bed," he said with certainty.
"You were nine years old,' Frodo told him. "And I'd only been here in Bag End a few months. I came down with a cold, do you remember?"
Sam's eyes blinked and then grew far away. "Mr. Bilbo was teaching me to read."
"And in the afternoon you were outside that window there, and I was tucked up in this bed."
"I remember chatting to you through the window when you were poorly."
"Telling me the story Bilbo had been letting you read that morning,' Frodo smiled gently. "Next thing I knew you were over the window sill and sitting by me on the bed, finishing the story."
Sam blushed and covered his face with one hand. "I was a cheeky little beggar," he groaned.
"I was charmed and delighted," Frodo corrected. "You told me the whole story and then curled up and went to sleep, right here." Frodo stroked the warm coverlet gently.
"I don't even remember that!"
"Because Bilbo came in to check on me and found you curled up like a field mouse." Frodo chuckled. "And he carried you back into the garden and put you into your dad's arms."
Sam shook his head. "He never said a word." He slanted Frodo a soft glance. "Even then I was drawn to you."
Frodo wrapped an arm around Sam's broad shoulders. "You were always so kind to me," he recalled. "When a lot of folks around here were still suspicious of this stranger from Buckland."
"My dad told me to take care of you," Sam told him, nodding when Frodo looked at him in surprise. "He did."
"I wonder if he's ever regretted that." Frodo laid his head on Sam's shoulder. "It makes me smile to recall how sweet you were as a youngster. I hope Fael grows up with your kind heart."
"I was thinking today, how it must have been for my dad, me taking off like that. How I'd feel if it was our lad running off to face danger and who knows what."
Frodo shivered at the thought. "He's not going anywhere without us," he said firmly.
Sam stroked Frodo's hair and he sighed pleasurably, loving the feel of strong fingers massaging his scalp.
"The baby will sleep for hours," Sam whispered and Frodo smiled at the half hopeful promise.
"I thought you didn't feel comfortable in my room," Frodo teased.
"It's our room now,' Sam corrected. "Our room, our bed, our son in his basket."
Frodo lay back, hands over his head, joy in his heart. "In our home."
Sam leaned over him, one arm over his body, lips curved gently. "I've dreamed of this for so long," he confided. "So why do I feel like this is the first time I've kissed you?"
"You'll just have to learn me all over again, won't you?" Frodo invited.
"I could do that," Sam mused, running one finger over his cheek. Frodo half closed his eyes in pleasure at the sure touch. He watched as Sam studied his face, wondering what he saw in the dim lamp light. Did Sam think him beautiful? He'd always felt it a foolish question to ask, and he wondered what Sam would say if he told him how beautiful his dear face was to Frodo.
He lifted a heavy hand and cupped Sam's cheek, loving the way it curved when he smiled, fingers stroking the warm laugh lines that creased the corners of his eyes. Sam turned his head and pressed a kiss to his palm, tongue flickering out and stroking him teasingly, sending another shiver down Frodo's spine. It had been a long time, and all of a sudden Frodo grew tired of this leisurely touching, he slid his hand to Sam's nape and tugged him down, lifting his head and meeting his lips halfway.
And then Sam was groaning in his throat, deepening the kiss and pushing Frodo's head back down into the soft mattress. Frodo opened his mouth wide and invited Sam in, never tiring of the incredible intimacy of this act.
"Frodo," Sam whispered, pulling his lips away reluctantly and then pressing another hard kiss to his softly swollen lips as if he could not resist. He slid a hand down the fine lawn of Frodo's nightshirt and came to rest just inches above his firmness. Sam smoothed the soft fabric over Frodo's flushed skin, making him squirm in pleasure. "Are you sure it's all right?" Sam whispered. "I don't want to hurt you, love, but it's been so long I'm afraid I'll be too rough."
Frodo lay his hand over Sam's and pressed it firmly, meeting passion clouded eyes with his own. "It's fine," he whispered sincerely. Then he squeezed Sam's fingers and pushed, unable to resist sliding Sam's hand down that few inches. He groaned as his firmness was covered, chest panting at the warmth and pressure.
Sam kept their eyes locked together as he wrapped his wide hand around Frodo's flesh right through the fabric, fondling it gently while Frodo gripped his wrist and sighed his pleasure. The wet head made the cloth transparent and Sam's broad thumb rubbed the fabric over it, tracing around the flared head, sliding up and down the split plum.
"Sam," Frodo sobbed, body jerking as Sam squeezed a little tighter, fingers sliding down the shaft and then back up again. Frodo caught his wrist. "Together," he begged and Sam smiled tenderly, pressing his thumb for a moment more before sliding his damp hand back up to Frodo's chest, laying his hand over the fast beating heart.
"Climb into bed beside me, love," Sam whispered.
Frodo let Sam pull him up by one hand and they pulled the covers back and snuggled down, reaching out eagerly and coming back together, mouths meeting, hands cupping each other's faces.
"This will be quick," Sam groaned apologetically, pressing Frodo back into the bed and tugging his damp nightshirt up. "It's been too long, love."
Frodo nodded breathlessly, reaching for Sam's nightshirt and pulling at it eagerly. He was painfully hard now and he could feel Sam against his belly, the impossibly soft head of his firmness pressing greedily against his skin, hot wetness smearing him.
"Hurry, Sam," he begged, heart pounding against the wall of his chest, breath sawing. Passion was drowning him and he wrapped his arms around Sam's body as his lover aligned their bodies, his head pressing back into the pillow as the first pressure of Sam's sliding thrusts drove him down.
He held on for dear life, arching upwards, lips seeking Sam's open panting mouth, locking on and drinking deep as Sam set the pace, impossibly fast, unbelievably good. Frodo slid his hand down Sam's broad back and in between their bodies, age-old instinct and brand new experience sending his seeking hand to their dueling hardness. He gripped both shafts and squeezed them together, eliciting a moan of pure pleasure from Sam and a jolt of white hot heat down his own spine.
"Love," Sam panted, his own hand joining Frodo's as they thrust against one another and through that tight channel.
Passion spilled and they sobbed and moaned in unison as they shook against one another, wet heat spurting, strong hands gentling, hard thrusts softening into a gentle glide.
"I told you it would be quick," Sam panted, shifting his weight a little to one side and sliding his hand over Frodo's seed slick belly. "Are you all right?"
Frodo could only smile and nod, passion simmering his skin, the feel of Sam's callused hand spreading slickness over his skin sending jagged spurts of pleasure through his satiated body.
"I loved your round belly," Sam confided, smoothing his hand over Frodo's skin. "But I sure missed doing that!"
Satiated as he was Frodo couldn't resist the thrill of returning passion and pride Sam's contented words shot through him. He covered Sam's broad hand with his own and wrapped his other hand around Sam's neck, bringing his head down and whispering in his ear. "There's something else I've missed." he whispered and Sam's body jerked a little as Frodo touched the tip of his tongue to Sam's pointed ear.
Then Frodo was leaning up and guiding his hand down and Sam groaned low in his throat, body twitching. "Give me a chance to catch my breath!" he puffed, then gasped as Frodo slid his hand down past his half hardness to that secret place between his legs.
Frodo smiled in delight as Sam's eyes widened and then narrowed passionately as his fingers pressed against slick oil.
"Never mind," Sam growled, and Frodo only had time to huff a laugh before he was being tackled back onto the bed once more.
888
The lights were off and the room was quiet and Merry could feel that first delicious slide into well earned rest.
"Merry?"
"Mmm?"
"Do you ever wonder... I mean... Frodo and Sam."
"No, Pip," Merry said firmly. "I do not wonder."
"You don't even know what I was going to say," Pippin defended.
Merry sighed. "I know exactly what you were going to say. You wonder what they do in bed together."
"I never would have said that!" Pippin exclaimed, scandalized.
Merry rolled over and peered at him through the darkness. "You wouldn't?"
"No," Pip huffed. "I was wondering if you ever wondered what they do in bed together."
"Pippin!" Merry shook is head and closed his eyes determinedly.
"I can't help it. I just can't picture it, you know? Frodo and Sam. They're so different for one thing."
Merry opened his eyes again and looked up at the dark ceiling. "I suppose they are."
"Course they are! I think of Sam and I picture him up to his elbows in dirt and loving every second of it. Coaxing his plants along and just as delighted by a petunia as a potato."
Merry smiled fondly at the accurate description.
"Then I think of Frodo and it's all books and daydreams and inky fingers from scribbling all day."
"He's a scholar all right."
"So then I try to picture them together..."
"What does that have to do with anything?" Merry demanded. "What does it matter about gardens and books when you're talking about bed?"
"But they just don't seem to... fit. In my head."
"Your head is the least of their worries," Merry retorted. He recalled those moments by the campfire when he'd watched Frodo and Sam in each other's arms. The tenderness of touch and kiss. "They love each other now," he said firmly. "I can't say I'm that used to the idea myself yet, but they do. And when people love each other they just find a way to make it work, I suppose."
"I suppose,' Pippin allowed.
Merry closed his eyes again and sighed into his pillow.
"Merry?"
"What?"
"Frodo and Sam aside..."
"Yes, Pip?"
"How do two lads... you know?"
Merry groaned and rolled over on his back again. "How should I know?" he demanded. "Do I look like an expert? Now can we get to sleep, or do you want to go and listen by their door for any clues?"
"No need to be rude," Pippin said huffily. "I think it's a perfectly natural and normal question to ask in the circumstances."
Merry sighed. "I suppose it is."
"Now kissing I get," Pippin went on conversationally. "I quite like kissing myself."
"Kissed a lot have you?"
"My share," Pip said smugly. "But after kissing frankly I'm lost. Because nothing else I've done seems to match up when the other fellow is a... well, a fellow. No... you know." He made a shape in the dark with his hands that Merry was fervently glad he couldn't see.
Merry rolled his eyes. "You realize Frodo would never forgive us for talking about him behind his back like this?"
"Nonsense," Pip scoffed. "If he wants to live openly with Sam he'd better get used to rude speculation."
"From his own family?"
"Come on, Merry," Pippin coaxed. "You do know, don't you?"
"No more than common sense would tell you if you had a whit of it," Merry retorted. "It's all hands and mouths, Pip, all right? If you'd ever really been with a lass then you'd know there's an awful lot you can do with just hands and mouths that feels as good as it gets. Matter of fact before a lad and a lass are wed they're a lot smarter if they stick with hands and mouths."
"Why?" Pippin asked in fascination.
"So they don't end up with their own bundle of joy, you ass! And a pitchfork in their back at their wedding. I thought I told you all this stuff years ago."
"Oh," Pippin mused. Then his eyes opened wider. "Oh! That stuff!" Pippin mused silently for a moments. "Ohhh," he suddenly exclaimed. "Hands and mouths! I get it!"
"Thank goodness!"
"Right, yes," Pippin said thoughtfully. "I see how that would work."
"So glad to have been of service. Can I sleep now?"
Merry turned over irritably and punched his pillow into shape before settling down with a sigh. His eyes drifted closed.
"Merry?"
"Oh save me," Merry moaned. "What?"
"So how did Frodo and Sam end up with Fael then?"
"Oh, Pip."
To Be Continued!
