Part 3: Of Untruths and Kisses
Frodo managed to make it into the courtroom with only a scratch to the cheek (from a lass's too-long fingernails) and a bump in the groin (which worried him somewhat, not because he planned to have children in his lifetime, but that it might be too sore for Sam to do extremely naughty things in the vicinity of that particular region.) Sam was unscathed, except for a bruised little finger which had been jarred between a bench and Sam's bulk by a shove from an old aunt-like figure. If worst came to worst, thought Frodo, at the end of the day he could soothe both of them by using his mouth on Sam's finger to pantomime what he would like Sam's mouth to be doing to him. Possibly it could make things worse, but Frodo decided not to dwell on the fact. Sucking any part of Sam's body was generally quite nice.
Sam's Gaffer and sisters had waited till the crowd had settled itself in the courtroom, then entered, claiming excellent seats because they were the defendant's family, and vicious threats from those whose seats they occupied.
Lobelia, Lotho and Mr. Grubb had taken their seats; Lotho appeared to have a stain on his shirt, something that appeared to be ale-coloured. Frodo swallowed a chuckle and watched the mayor walk in, looking rather satisfied and plump-bellied. It was widely rumoured that Whitfoot ate a whole roast chicken for lunch, or its equivalent, and as Frodo watched him wipe his mouth with a napkin, Frodo had to concede the rumours might in fact be true. Whatever the truth, the mayor was burying a belch with his hand and preparing the court to begin, and Frodo could not waste time speculating about the mayor's gastronomic habits.
"Order!" shouted Will, slamming his gavel down heavily. Quiet immediately established itself throughout the room. "Mr. Baggins has requested that he be allowed to argue against the laws which he has been accused of breaking. Due to the unprecedented nature of these proceedings, during lunch -- while I was enjoying a garden of stewed vegetables kindly sent by Mistress Cocklebur -- I have decided that since Mr. Baggins' guilt is beyond doubt (since he pleaded guilty), we will hear the case for and against these laws. As Mr. Baggins has made clear, he has some sort of argument, heaven knows what, that we will no doubt be hearing shortly. I ask the plaintiffs if they would like to, shall we say, debate this subject with Mr. Baggins?"
Lobelia, Lotho and Grubb put their heads together and whispered furtively. After a minute, they separated from their union and Grubb rose to his feet. Lobelia smiled wickedly and moved in her seat as if she were ensconced in her favourite rocking chair.
Grubb pushed his hideous tortoiseshell glasses up his nose and made a noise in his throat. "Your Honour, we would be more than pleased to join this so-called debate. Indeed, many of the notes I made in preparing this case, in the instance Mr. Baggins were to plead not guilty, would fit well into this argument. Mrs. Sackville-Baggins is very confident she will win this case; she knows the good hobbits of the Westfarthing will not let the law be so blatantly flaunted."
The mayor looked pleased; Grubb returned his bottom to his seat. "Thank you, Mr. Grubb." The mayor was not merely pleased, but relieved. The crowd's reaction if the case lasted merely a few hours was something he had pondered while nibbling on a few chicken legs for lunch in his chamber. It didn't bear thinking about, truth be told. He had read the last case of this delicate subject matter between nibbles, and found the lad had pleaded not guilty, and to the delight of many, the case had lasted three insightful days. In the end, the lad and his lover were ceremonially spirited away from the Westfarthing, and society had returned to normal.
Will coughed gently into his hand. "All right, then. Shall we hear the prosecution's argument?"
Mr. Grubb arose again, his cheeks coral-pink and a large yellow handkerchief spilling out of his green weskit. He puffed his chest and slid past the bench to the front of the court, to stand before the mayor. "I shall now go over how Mrs. Sackville-Baggins came to lay this disreputable crime on Mr. Frodo Baggins. On Highday the 3rd of Forelithe, Mrs. Sackville-Baggins decided to visit Bag End to take tea and discuss matters--" Frodo snorted softly. He would have bet half his prized elven tomes that Lobelia had been sniffing around Bag End to find something that would incriminate him. "--What Mrs. Sackville-Baggins found disturbed her deeply, and afterwards, as her son will vouch, she came down with an illness that caused her to be unable to sleep for three days. Hearing noises inside Bag End, noises which she thought could indicate harm to Mr. Baggins, Mrs. Sackville-Baggins, concerned about Mr. Baggins' safety, knocked on the door--" (Softly I bet, murmured Frodo.) "--and not receiving an answer, decided to look through the window and help as best she could. She found Mr. Baggins and…" Grubb paused in his pacing and went to his bench to peer at a paper. "Mr. Baggins and Samwise Gamgee, Mr. Baggins' gardener, in a lusty embrace."
It was a good five minutes before the courtroom had quieted to a dull roar. Sam blushed up to and including his ears, and Frodo sighed and pushed papers around the bench.
"Mrs. Sackville-Baggins decided," continued Grubb loudly, "to report this crime to the Hole, as she received a nasty shock and would hate anybody else innocently arriving at Bag End to find such a scene!"
Sam let out a short whuff under his breath. Frodo agreed.
"All right, then," said the mayor. "If that is all you have to say, Mr. Grubb, I will ask Frodo Baggins to respond." Grubb nodded and took his seat. Giving Sam a look, Frodo strode to the front of the court.
Frodo had chosen to represent himself. There were only two law firms in the Westfarthing: Grubb, Grubb and Burrowes, and Wood and Son. Frodo had had a meeting with Wood (since he had learnt at The Green Dragon that Lobelia had asked Grubb to be her lawyer.) When Frodo had admitted he had been doing those things to young Samwise Gamgee, Wood had told Frodo his only chance was to claim he had been inebriated at the time and therefore had no idea what he had been doing -- and it most definitely was the first time it had happened and it certainly wouldn't happen again. Frodo had left Wood's feeling sick, and had promptly hurried to the back of the smial and thrown up on (appropriately) Wood's prized lobelia bush. Frodo would never, ever deny that he loved Sam, loved Sam's mind and body. Frodo was willing to sacrifice Bag End and his reputation for Sam; in fact he would do anything for Sam. Anything. Like standing up before half the hobbits in Michel Delving and telling them that he did wicked things like sleeping with somebody he loved.
"My dear hobbits," Frodo began, "all that you have heard concerning me in Mr. Grubb's speech is true -- though I cannot vouch for what he says about Mrs. Sackville-Baggins. I indeed live with Samwise Gamgee, and we sleep in the same bed, and we are very much in love. Yes, Mrs. Sackville-Baggins saw Sam and me making love. However, we were doing this in the privacy of our smial, in the evening, and we were not expecting any visitors at that time. We did not mean for anybody to see us -- unfortunately I had forgotten to close the curtains, and it seems Mrs. Sackville-Baggins somehow managed to see into our bedroom. Perhaps she was sniffing the nasturtiums?" Frodo smiled pleasantly in Lobelia's direction. Lobelia sniffed primly. "I find it surprising," Frodo continued slowly, "that Mrs. Sackville-Baggins looked into our window at all. It was common knowledge throughout Hobbiton that Sam lived with me, and that we were lovers. Indeed, I heard Hanna Goldworthy telling one of her customers at the bakery of the 'queer goings-on' at Bag End while Mrs. Sackville-Baggins was purchasing an iced cake. From Mrs. Sackville-Baggins shocked expression, I imagine she overheard this discussion.
"Aside from a few harsh words now and then, Sam and I have experienced no trouble with this situation till now. I wonder at some things: If Mrs. Sackville-Baggins knew of us before this incident, why did she not bring this matter to the Hole sooner? And why did she look in the window in the first place if she had an idea of what was going on? And, last of all, does Mrs. Sackville-Baggins maintain that any passer-by in the Shire might have entered my property without invitation and taken the liberty of gazing directly into my bedroom?"
Murmurs drifted through the courtroom. The afternoon sun sifting through the windows heated the squashed-in hobbits. Somebody coughed.
The mayor leaned forward. "And what do you suggest, Mr. Baggins?"
Frodo said, "I think Mrs. Sackville-Baggins knew that Sam and I were together, and that she deliberately looked in through our bedroom window to catch us having sex." Frodo paused while the crowd made a noise like a flock of starlings fighting over a loaf of raisin bread. "She did this because she wanted evidence when she brought this matter to court."
"But," said the mayor, "why would she do this now?"
"Ahh!" said Frodo. He began to pace up and down the courtroom. Sam watched Frodo carefully; sunlight highlighted the summer freckles tossed over Frodo's nose, and the pink lushness of his lips. Drawn into something between a smug smile and an annoyed grimace, Frodo's mouth opened just the tiniest. Just enough for the tip of his tongue to dart out and spread moisture over his bottom lip. Turning from his pacing, Frodo picked up a pitcher of water from his bench and poured a little into a glass. As he drank, a trickle of water caught on the outside of Frodo's mouth, clinging for perhaps half a second, before sliding down Frodo's chin. The crowd was silent as the drop teetered on the brink of Frodo's face, unsure whether to stay or take a leap. The anticipation was intense. Finally, with just a moment's hesitation, the drop of water fell, darkening a circle on Frodo's cream-coloured shirt. The hobbits sighed with pleasant relief.
Oblivious, Frodo returned the glass to its place. Sam exhaled the rather large breath he had been holding and pulled on the thigh part of his breeches. Hobbit lasses (and some lads surreptitiously) fanned themselves with handkerchiefs or other items they found in their pockets.
Frodo looked at Lobelia, who looked rather flushed herself (though, she told herself steadily, that was because it was very hot, and not because-- Lobelia didn't even allow herself to finish such a horrendous thought.) "I believe Mrs. Sackville-Baggins has done this," said Frodo loudly, "because she wishes she lived in Bag End!"
The audience chirruped like birds welcoming a glorious dawn. The more intelligent hobbits in the audience (and, suffice to say, there were quite a few hobbits whose view of the world was less than clear) bobbed their heads up and down, unsurprised at this revelation. It was well-known the Sackville-Bagginses wanted Bag End. Twice they had thought they had wrenched the luxurious smial from Bilbo Baggins' fingers, and twice they had been foiled. That Lobelia would humiliate her relative to take Bag End was unstartling, to say the least.
"Yes, yes," spluttered the mayor (he probably not being one of the hobbits discussed in the previous paragraph). "If this is so, what difference does it make? You have still broken the law."
"Yes, I understand," said Frodo smoothly. "I wanted the audience to hear my side of the story. I think you'll agree, Your Honour, that having all the facts in hand will only help you and your assistants make the correct decision."
"Of course," Will murmured, and settled back in his chair. "Er, what's the time?" he asked one of his assistants. The answer which came back to him was that it was 'almost four o'clock'. Will nodded with satisfaction. That gave him enough time to munch on a few biscuits while he looked over the laborious notes his assistants had made, and then amble home to his smial where his wife would be settling dinner on the table at a quarter past six, on the dot.
"Have you finished your statement, Mr. Baggins?" asked the mayor.
"Yes, I think I've made my point," said Frodo. He promptly found his place next to Sam and took Sam's hand beneath the table.
"I didn't look a complete fool, did I?" said Frodo quietly.
"No, me dear," whispered Sam, feeling a lump in his throat, akin to the time when he accidentally swallowed an apricot seed, the reason why he didn't want to remember. Sam reasonably thought that this was entirely inappropriate for this particular moment, and forgot it. "You were wonderful."
"Thank you, Sam," said Frodo gratefully. Sam's eyes became all misty, which wasn't entirely unwarranted for the moment. For all Frodo's courage and poise in front of the court, Sam knew he had been terribly frightened and nervous. It was something Sam had always admired about Frodo Baggins: if pushed, he was able to bluff his way through nasty situations. There'd been the time Frodo had found a snake baking on the garden path one spring morning while escorting the Thain around Bag End. While Sam peeked from behind a tumble of leaves, heart in his mouth because he knew Frodo hated snakes, Frodo made a noise and gently lifted the snake and laid it onto a tuft of grass. Frodo and the Thain had had a quiet chuckle about it, but it was only Sam who saw Frodo's fingers trembling as he hid them behind his back.
That wasn't to say Frodo was frightened a lot of the time, oh no. Snakes and skulking relatives were high on his list of things he most disliked. Those who first looked upon Frodo thought him fragile, with a small, slender grace about him and moonlight-pale skin (which actually tanned quite nicely in summer, believe it or not). But Sam had seen Frodo scythe grain for three days straight over in Buckland, and beat Sandyman in a beer drinking contest at The Ivy Bush. And Sam had had the pleasure of lying atop Frodo in bed (or on a table, desk, rug, grass with a sprinkling of dandelions) and feel him squirm and moan hot pleas of yes, oh there Sam! ooh, don't stop! Frodo wasn't delicate then, oh no. He was a wild animal writhing in Sam's arms, a passionate and sensual lover, quite unlike the bookish bachelor all of Hobbiton knew. In Sam's arms Frodo was like a crackling fire, hot and raging and burning fiercely.
The mayor coughed; Sam looked up a bit guiltily. Said Will, "The court will open again at eleven o'clock tomorrow. Court dismissed!" He banged his gavel down emphatically. The rush began.
Sam and Frodo waited till the crowd had left the building. Apparently Lobelia had made a hasty exit, dragging her son out by the cuff of his sleeve. Soon only Sam and Frodo were left in the courtroom, except for a stray official or two.
"We should speak to your father outside," said Frodo, shouldering his pack. "I forgot to tell you, but I bought a few extra heads of cabbages yesterday. I would like to give him one or two."
Sam nodded and followed Frodo out of the Hole. The afternoon sun was dipping into the west, brushing the tips of the silvery mountains far, far away. A faint cooling breeze tickled leaves and hair, brushing sweetly over hot skin and relieving the day's aches. The Gaffer and Sam's sisters were waiting by their pony trap, the driver pushing a bucket to the pony's nose for one last drink.
"Hello, Mr. Gamgee," said Frodo, petting the pony's mane. "I hope it wasn't too uncomfortable in the courtroom?"
"Don't pay me no mind," said the Gaffer. He squinted up at Frodo, his face becoming strangely thoughtful. "You put on a good show, Mr. Frodo. I'm proud of ye, and of Sam."
"You gave Mrs. Lobelia what she deserved," said Marigold, grinning widely. She caught Sam in a fierce hug, almost strangling the breath out of him. "I hope there's more tomorrow."
"Which you won't be seeing," the Gaffer reminded her. "'Member you've got to go up with May to the Bolgers' smial and give it a good clean on the morrow."
"Oh, drat!" proclaimed May prettily, tugging her hair into a braid.
"Mind your betters!" growled the Gaffer. May blushed and murmured a sorry.
"Would you like to come to Bag End for dinner?" Frodo asked, sensing that admonishing the Gaffer would lead nowhere. "Something cool to nibble on, I think. And I'd like to give you some cabbages, if that would please you."
The Gaffer considered this; he knew his girls would be tired after the day's trip, and would not feel like scurrying about in their own small kitchen. "If it's no trouble, Mr. Frodo. I'll send May and Mari 'round when they get home to help ye. 'Tis the least we can do."
Frodo nodded. "Yes, thank you," he said. Sam's sisters and dad climbed into the pony trap and were off back to Hobbiton with a cluck from the driver.
Sam and Frodo began to walk down the road to Morgo's stable. The road was quiet; many hobbits had gone home to cool off, or were at the local inn to down an ale or two. Sam was shaking his head.
"What?" asked Frodo.
Sam chuckled. "My sisters and dad 'round for dinner, like we are married or summat. I never thought I'd see that."
It was true. In the six months since Sam had come to live with Frodo (and the year previous to that when Sam and Frodo began to make each other blush with need), neither the Gaffer nor Sam's sisters had had dinner at Bag End. Sometimes the Gaffer had taken lunch inside when it rained before Bilbo had left for a second adventure, but that was hardly a formal sit-down, just the Gaffer munching on a couple of sandwiches while he and Bilbo discussed the tulips or the parsnip patch or whatever. But now…
"But it's true, isn't it?" said Frodo in a soft voice. "It's like we're married, except, oh, we don't have the official papers nor have had a ceremony."
Sam tugged Frodo into the shade between two buildings, a cosy private space. They hid behind a couple of stacked barrels, cool and shady, and Sam pulled Frodo to him. Frodo looked uncertain, but smiled softly. Sam caressed the sides of Frodo's face with his thumbs, told Frodo with his eyes the answer, the only answer. Shadows clung to the fine smoothness of Frodo's skin, but his eyes were bright, eager now and playful, heating slowly. Sam edged Frodo to a wall and gently pushed him against it, while kissing and licking at the damp skin of Frodo's neck. Frodo sighed and filled his hands with the plump cheeks of Sam's bottom.
"Of course, me dear," Sam murmured, tasting the lovely shell of Frodo's ear with an inquisitive tongue.
"Oh, Sam, I like your answer," said Frodo, nipping at Sam's lower lip. He ran his tongue around the rim of Sam's mouth, unhurried, then let their mouths meet, coaxing Sam's tongue to join his in a hot, writhing dance.
"Frodo…" Sam gasped, licking a drip of sweat glimmering on Frodo's nose. "We should--"
"Continue," stated Frodo firmly. Their mouths crushed together, and they kissed in that slow-heated way that would hopefully allow them to stop before things got carried away. Which was difficult for Sam, leastways, with Frodo squeezing and fondling his behind as if he was trying decide whether it was ripe or not.
Sam inched his thigh between Frodo's legs, feeling delicious hardness press into his breeches. Oh, this was right silly, but Sam didn't care a whit, combing his fingers through Frodo's sweat-moist curls to bring that lovely mouth closer.
"Sam…" murmured Frodo; it came out slightly muddled as his tongue tickled the side of Sam's mouth. Sam sighed: he knew what Frodo was saying.
Sam unstuck their writhing, indulgent mouths. "Maybe we could do that next," he said.
"Hmmm?" answered Frodo, entirely too distracted by how wet and sleek the inside of Sam's mouth was.
"We could marry," smiled Sam, eyes dancing with mirth.
Frodo laughed. "We'll see."
"Hello?" A soft voice startled them, and Frodo ceased experimenting with the firmness of Sam's bottom in less than a breath. He adjusted his breeches to cover up his excitement -- he hoped.
A young lass stepped into the shadows, blinking. She was clothed in a simple white dress that fell softly over her slim body, pulling tight at her bosom, and a bonnet decorated with colourful flowers rested on her head. Neither Frodo nor Sam had ever seen her before.
She blushed and adjusted her skirts. "Mr. Baggins," she began haltingly, "I saw you in court today. I -- I just wanted to say how much I admire you for what you're doing. My brother, he -- he's in a similar situation to you and Master Gamgee, and, well, I just wanted to thank you."
"That's encouraging to hear that, miss," began Frodo. "Tell me, what is your name-- Wait!
But the lass had gathered her skirts and disappeared into the afternoon sunlight.
Frodo sighed and wound an arm around Sam's waist. He pushed his nose into spicy-scented curls. "I think we will be helping more than ourselves if we win," said Frodo.
"That makes you happy, doesn't it, love?" said Sam admiringly, kissing Frodo's cheek. "Helping other people."
"Yes." Frodo closed his eyes, feeling the breeze sneak into the alley and brush away his cares. "Let's go home and have a pleasant dinner, shall we?"
And Sam and Frodo stepped back out into the hot sun and headed towards Morgo's stables.
TBC...
Frodo managed to make it into the courtroom with only a scratch to the cheek (from a lass's too-long fingernails) and a bump in the groin (which worried him somewhat, not because he planned to have children in his lifetime, but that it might be too sore for Sam to do extremely naughty things in the vicinity of that particular region.) Sam was unscathed, except for a bruised little finger which had been jarred between a bench and Sam's bulk by a shove from an old aunt-like figure. If worst came to worst, thought Frodo, at the end of the day he could soothe both of them by using his mouth on Sam's finger to pantomime what he would like Sam's mouth to be doing to him. Possibly it could make things worse, but Frodo decided not to dwell on the fact. Sucking any part of Sam's body was generally quite nice.
Sam's Gaffer and sisters had waited till the crowd had settled itself in the courtroom, then entered, claiming excellent seats because they were the defendant's family, and vicious threats from those whose seats they occupied.
Lobelia, Lotho and Mr. Grubb had taken their seats; Lotho appeared to have a stain on his shirt, something that appeared to be ale-coloured. Frodo swallowed a chuckle and watched the mayor walk in, looking rather satisfied and plump-bellied. It was widely rumoured that Whitfoot ate a whole roast chicken for lunch, or its equivalent, and as Frodo watched him wipe his mouth with a napkin, Frodo had to concede the rumours might in fact be true. Whatever the truth, the mayor was burying a belch with his hand and preparing the court to begin, and Frodo could not waste time speculating about the mayor's gastronomic habits.
"Order!" shouted Will, slamming his gavel down heavily. Quiet immediately established itself throughout the room. "Mr. Baggins has requested that he be allowed to argue against the laws which he has been accused of breaking. Due to the unprecedented nature of these proceedings, during lunch -- while I was enjoying a garden of stewed vegetables kindly sent by Mistress Cocklebur -- I have decided that since Mr. Baggins' guilt is beyond doubt (since he pleaded guilty), we will hear the case for and against these laws. As Mr. Baggins has made clear, he has some sort of argument, heaven knows what, that we will no doubt be hearing shortly. I ask the plaintiffs if they would like to, shall we say, debate this subject with Mr. Baggins?"
Lobelia, Lotho and Grubb put their heads together and whispered furtively. After a minute, they separated from their union and Grubb rose to his feet. Lobelia smiled wickedly and moved in her seat as if she were ensconced in her favourite rocking chair.
Grubb pushed his hideous tortoiseshell glasses up his nose and made a noise in his throat. "Your Honour, we would be more than pleased to join this so-called debate. Indeed, many of the notes I made in preparing this case, in the instance Mr. Baggins were to plead not guilty, would fit well into this argument. Mrs. Sackville-Baggins is very confident she will win this case; she knows the good hobbits of the Westfarthing will not let the law be so blatantly flaunted."
The mayor looked pleased; Grubb returned his bottom to his seat. "Thank you, Mr. Grubb." The mayor was not merely pleased, but relieved. The crowd's reaction if the case lasted merely a few hours was something he had pondered while nibbling on a few chicken legs for lunch in his chamber. It didn't bear thinking about, truth be told. He had read the last case of this delicate subject matter between nibbles, and found the lad had pleaded not guilty, and to the delight of many, the case had lasted three insightful days. In the end, the lad and his lover were ceremonially spirited away from the Westfarthing, and society had returned to normal.
Will coughed gently into his hand. "All right, then. Shall we hear the prosecution's argument?"
Mr. Grubb arose again, his cheeks coral-pink and a large yellow handkerchief spilling out of his green weskit. He puffed his chest and slid past the bench to the front of the court, to stand before the mayor. "I shall now go over how Mrs. Sackville-Baggins came to lay this disreputable crime on Mr. Frodo Baggins. On Highday the 3rd of Forelithe, Mrs. Sackville-Baggins decided to visit Bag End to take tea and discuss matters--" Frodo snorted softly. He would have bet half his prized elven tomes that Lobelia had been sniffing around Bag End to find something that would incriminate him. "--What Mrs. Sackville-Baggins found disturbed her deeply, and afterwards, as her son will vouch, she came down with an illness that caused her to be unable to sleep for three days. Hearing noises inside Bag End, noises which she thought could indicate harm to Mr. Baggins, Mrs. Sackville-Baggins, concerned about Mr. Baggins' safety, knocked on the door--" (Softly I bet, murmured Frodo.) "--and not receiving an answer, decided to look through the window and help as best she could. She found Mr. Baggins and…" Grubb paused in his pacing and went to his bench to peer at a paper. "Mr. Baggins and Samwise Gamgee, Mr. Baggins' gardener, in a lusty embrace."
It was a good five minutes before the courtroom had quieted to a dull roar. Sam blushed up to and including his ears, and Frodo sighed and pushed papers around the bench.
"Mrs. Sackville-Baggins decided," continued Grubb loudly, "to report this crime to the Hole, as she received a nasty shock and would hate anybody else innocently arriving at Bag End to find such a scene!"
Sam let out a short whuff under his breath. Frodo agreed.
"All right, then," said the mayor. "If that is all you have to say, Mr. Grubb, I will ask Frodo Baggins to respond." Grubb nodded and took his seat. Giving Sam a look, Frodo strode to the front of the court.
Frodo had chosen to represent himself. There were only two law firms in the Westfarthing: Grubb, Grubb and Burrowes, and Wood and Son. Frodo had had a meeting with Wood (since he had learnt at The Green Dragon that Lobelia had asked Grubb to be her lawyer.) When Frodo had admitted he had been doing those things to young Samwise Gamgee, Wood had told Frodo his only chance was to claim he had been inebriated at the time and therefore had no idea what he had been doing -- and it most definitely was the first time it had happened and it certainly wouldn't happen again. Frodo had left Wood's feeling sick, and had promptly hurried to the back of the smial and thrown up on (appropriately) Wood's prized lobelia bush. Frodo would never, ever deny that he loved Sam, loved Sam's mind and body. Frodo was willing to sacrifice Bag End and his reputation for Sam; in fact he would do anything for Sam. Anything. Like standing up before half the hobbits in Michel Delving and telling them that he did wicked things like sleeping with somebody he loved.
"My dear hobbits," Frodo began, "all that you have heard concerning me in Mr. Grubb's speech is true -- though I cannot vouch for what he says about Mrs. Sackville-Baggins. I indeed live with Samwise Gamgee, and we sleep in the same bed, and we are very much in love. Yes, Mrs. Sackville-Baggins saw Sam and me making love. However, we were doing this in the privacy of our smial, in the evening, and we were not expecting any visitors at that time. We did not mean for anybody to see us -- unfortunately I had forgotten to close the curtains, and it seems Mrs. Sackville-Baggins somehow managed to see into our bedroom. Perhaps she was sniffing the nasturtiums?" Frodo smiled pleasantly in Lobelia's direction. Lobelia sniffed primly. "I find it surprising," Frodo continued slowly, "that Mrs. Sackville-Baggins looked into our window at all. It was common knowledge throughout Hobbiton that Sam lived with me, and that we were lovers. Indeed, I heard Hanna Goldworthy telling one of her customers at the bakery of the 'queer goings-on' at Bag End while Mrs. Sackville-Baggins was purchasing an iced cake. From Mrs. Sackville-Baggins shocked expression, I imagine she overheard this discussion.
"Aside from a few harsh words now and then, Sam and I have experienced no trouble with this situation till now. I wonder at some things: If Mrs. Sackville-Baggins knew of us before this incident, why did she not bring this matter to the Hole sooner? And why did she look in the window in the first place if she had an idea of what was going on? And, last of all, does Mrs. Sackville-Baggins maintain that any passer-by in the Shire might have entered my property without invitation and taken the liberty of gazing directly into my bedroom?"
Murmurs drifted through the courtroom. The afternoon sun sifting through the windows heated the squashed-in hobbits. Somebody coughed.
The mayor leaned forward. "And what do you suggest, Mr. Baggins?"
Frodo said, "I think Mrs. Sackville-Baggins knew that Sam and I were together, and that she deliberately looked in through our bedroom window to catch us having sex." Frodo paused while the crowd made a noise like a flock of starlings fighting over a loaf of raisin bread. "She did this because she wanted evidence when she brought this matter to court."
"But," said the mayor, "why would she do this now?"
"Ahh!" said Frodo. He began to pace up and down the courtroom. Sam watched Frodo carefully; sunlight highlighted the summer freckles tossed over Frodo's nose, and the pink lushness of his lips. Drawn into something between a smug smile and an annoyed grimace, Frodo's mouth opened just the tiniest. Just enough for the tip of his tongue to dart out and spread moisture over his bottom lip. Turning from his pacing, Frodo picked up a pitcher of water from his bench and poured a little into a glass. As he drank, a trickle of water caught on the outside of Frodo's mouth, clinging for perhaps half a second, before sliding down Frodo's chin. The crowd was silent as the drop teetered on the brink of Frodo's face, unsure whether to stay or take a leap. The anticipation was intense. Finally, with just a moment's hesitation, the drop of water fell, darkening a circle on Frodo's cream-coloured shirt. The hobbits sighed with pleasant relief.
Oblivious, Frodo returned the glass to its place. Sam exhaled the rather large breath he had been holding and pulled on the thigh part of his breeches. Hobbit lasses (and some lads surreptitiously) fanned themselves with handkerchiefs or other items they found in their pockets.
Frodo looked at Lobelia, who looked rather flushed herself (though, she told herself steadily, that was because it was very hot, and not because-- Lobelia didn't even allow herself to finish such a horrendous thought.) "I believe Mrs. Sackville-Baggins has done this," said Frodo loudly, "because she wishes she lived in Bag End!"
The audience chirruped like birds welcoming a glorious dawn. The more intelligent hobbits in the audience (and, suffice to say, there were quite a few hobbits whose view of the world was less than clear) bobbed their heads up and down, unsurprised at this revelation. It was well-known the Sackville-Bagginses wanted Bag End. Twice they had thought they had wrenched the luxurious smial from Bilbo Baggins' fingers, and twice they had been foiled. That Lobelia would humiliate her relative to take Bag End was unstartling, to say the least.
"Yes, yes," spluttered the mayor (he probably not being one of the hobbits discussed in the previous paragraph). "If this is so, what difference does it make? You have still broken the law."
"Yes, I understand," said Frodo smoothly. "I wanted the audience to hear my side of the story. I think you'll agree, Your Honour, that having all the facts in hand will only help you and your assistants make the correct decision."
"Of course," Will murmured, and settled back in his chair. "Er, what's the time?" he asked one of his assistants. The answer which came back to him was that it was 'almost four o'clock'. Will nodded with satisfaction. That gave him enough time to munch on a few biscuits while he looked over the laborious notes his assistants had made, and then amble home to his smial where his wife would be settling dinner on the table at a quarter past six, on the dot.
"Have you finished your statement, Mr. Baggins?" asked the mayor.
"Yes, I think I've made my point," said Frodo. He promptly found his place next to Sam and took Sam's hand beneath the table.
"I didn't look a complete fool, did I?" said Frodo quietly.
"No, me dear," whispered Sam, feeling a lump in his throat, akin to the time when he accidentally swallowed an apricot seed, the reason why he didn't want to remember. Sam reasonably thought that this was entirely inappropriate for this particular moment, and forgot it. "You were wonderful."
"Thank you, Sam," said Frodo gratefully. Sam's eyes became all misty, which wasn't entirely unwarranted for the moment. For all Frodo's courage and poise in front of the court, Sam knew he had been terribly frightened and nervous. It was something Sam had always admired about Frodo Baggins: if pushed, he was able to bluff his way through nasty situations. There'd been the time Frodo had found a snake baking on the garden path one spring morning while escorting the Thain around Bag End. While Sam peeked from behind a tumble of leaves, heart in his mouth because he knew Frodo hated snakes, Frodo made a noise and gently lifted the snake and laid it onto a tuft of grass. Frodo and the Thain had had a quiet chuckle about it, but it was only Sam who saw Frodo's fingers trembling as he hid them behind his back.
That wasn't to say Frodo was frightened a lot of the time, oh no. Snakes and skulking relatives were high on his list of things he most disliked. Those who first looked upon Frodo thought him fragile, with a small, slender grace about him and moonlight-pale skin (which actually tanned quite nicely in summer, believe it or not). But Sam had seen Frodo scythe grain for three days straight over in Buckland, and beat Sandyman in a beer drinking contest at The Ivy Bush. And Sam had had the pleasure of lying atop Frodo in bed (or on a table, desk, rug, grass with a sprinkling of dandelions) and feel him squirm and moan hot pleas of yes, oh there Sam! ooh, don't stop! Frodo wasn't delicate then, oh no. He was a wild animal writhing in Sam's arms, a passionate and sensual lover, quite unlike the bookish bachelor all of Hobbiton knew. In Sam's arms Frodo was like a crackling fire, hot and raging and burning fiercely.
The mayor coughed; Sam looked up a bit guiltily. Said Will, "The court will open again at eleven o'clock tomorrow. Court dismissed!" He banged his gavel down emphatically. The rush began.
Sam and Frodo waited till the crowd had left the building. Apparently Lobelia had made a hasty exit, dragging her son out by the cuff of his sleeve. Soon only Sam and Frodo were left in the courtroom, except for a stray official or two.
"We should speak to your father outside," said Frodo, shouldering his pack. "I forgot to tell you, but I bought a few extra heads of cabbages yesterday. I would like to give him one or two."
Sam nodded and followed Frodo out of the Hole. The afternoon sun was dipping into the west, brushing the tips of the silvery mountains far, far away. A faint cooling breeze tickled leaves and hair, brushing sweetly over hot skin and relieving the day's aches. The Gaffer and Sam's sisters were waiting by their pony trap, the driver pushing a bucket to the pony's nose for one last drink.
"Hello, Mr. Gamgee," said Frodo, petting the pony's mane. "I hope it wasn't too uncomfortable in the courtroom?"
"Don't pay me no mind," said the Gaffer. He squinted up at Frodo, his face becoming strangely thoughtful. "You put on a good show, Mr. Frodo. I'm proud of ye, and of Sam."
"You gave Mrs. Lobelia what she deserved," said Marigold, grinning widely. She caught Sam in a fierce hug, almost strangling the breath out of him. "I hope there's more tomorrow."
"Which you won't be seeing," the Gaffer reminded her. "'Member you've got to go up with May to the Bolgers' smial and give it a good clean on the morrow."
"Oh, drat!" proclaimed May prettily, tugging her hair into a braid.
"Mind your betters!" growled the Gaffer. May blushed and murmured a sorry.
"Would you like to come to Bag End for dinner?" Frodo asked, sensing that admonishing the Gaffer would lead nowhere. "Something cool to nibble on, I think. And I'd like to give you some cabbages, if that would please you."
The Gaffer considered this; he knew his girls would be tired after the day's trip, and would not feel like scurrying about in their own small kitchen. "If it's no trouble, Mr. Frodo. I'll send May and Mari 'round when they get home to help ye. 'Tis the least we can do."
Frodo nodded. "Yes, thank you," he said. Sam's sisters and dad climbed into the pony trap and were off back to Hobbiton with a cluck from the driver.
Sam and Frodo began to walk down the road to Morgo's stable. The road was quiet; many hobbits had gone home to cool off, or were at the local inn to down an ale or two. Sam was shaking his head.
"What?" asked Frodo.
Sam chuckled. "My sisters and dad 'round for dinner, like we are married or summat. I never thought I'd see that."
It was true. In the six months since Sam had come to live with Frodo (and the year previous to that when Sam and Frodo began to make each other blush with need), neither the Gaffer nor Sam's sisters had had dinner at Bag End. Sometimes the Gaffer had taken lunch inside when it rained before Bilbo had left for a second adventure, but that was hardly a formal sit-down, just the Gaffer munching on a couple of sandwiches while he and Bilbo discussed the tulips or the parsnip patch or whatever. But now…
"But it's true, isn't it?" said Frodo in a soft voice. "It's like we're married, except, oh, we don't have the official papers nor have had a ceremony."
Sam tugged Frodo into the shade between two buildings, a cosy private space. They hid behind a couple of stacked barrels, cool and shady, and Sam pulled Frodo to him. Frodo looked uncertain, but smiled softly. Sam caressed the sides of Frodo's face with his thumbs, told Frodo with his eyes the answer, the only answer. Shadows clung to the fine smoothness of Frodo's skin, but his eyes were bright, eager now and playful, heating slowly. Sam edged Frodo to a wall and gently pushed him against it, while kissing and licking at the damp skin of Frodo's neck. Frodo sighed and filled his hands with the plump cheeks of Sam's bottom.
"Of course, me dear," Sam murmured, tasting the lovely shell of Frodo's ear with an inquisitive tongue.
"Oh, Sam, I like your answer," said Frodo, nipping at Sam's lower lip. He ran his tongue around the rim of Sam's mouth, unhurried, then let their mouths meet, coaxing Sam's tongue to join his in a hot, writhing dance.
"Frodo…" Sam gasped, licking a drip of sweat glimmering on Frodo's nose. "We should--"
"Continue," stated Frodo firmly. Their mouths crushed together, and they kissed in that slow-heated way that would hopefully allow them to stop before things got carried away. Which was difficult for Sam, leastways, with Frodo squeezing and fondling his behind as if he was trying decide whether it was ripe or not.
Sam inched his thigh between Frodo's legs, feeling delicious hardness press into his breeches. Oh, this was right silly, but Sam didn't care a whit, combing his fingers through Frodo's sweat-moist curls to bring that lovely mouth closer.
"Sam…" murmured Frodo; it came out slightly muddled as his tongue tickled the side of Sam's mouth. Sam sighed: he knew what Frodo was saying.
Sam unstuck their writhing, indulgent mouths. "Maybe we could do that next," he said.
"Hmmm?" answered Frodo, entirely too distracted by how wet and sleek the inside of Sam's mouth was.
"We could marry," smiled Sam, eyes dancing with mirth.
Frodo laughed. "We'll see."
"Hello?" A soft voice startled them, and Frodo ceased experimenting with the firmness of Sam's bottom in less than a breath. He adjusted his breeches to cover up his excitement -- he hoped.
A young lass stepped into the shadows, blinking. She was clothed in a simple white dress that fell softly over her slim body, pulling tight at her bosom, and a bonnet decorated with colourful flowers rested on her head. Neither Frodo nor Sam had ever seen her before.
She blushed and adjusted her skirts. "Mr. Baggins," she began haltingly, "I saw you in court today. I -- I just wanted to say how much I admire you for what you're doing. My brother, he -- he's in a similar situation to you and Master Gamgee, and, well, I just wanted to thank you."
"That's encouraging to hear that, miss," began Frodo. "Tell me, what is your name-- Wait!
But the lass had gathered her skirts and disappeared into the afternoon sunlight.
Frodo sighed and wound an arm around Sam's waist. He pushed his nose into spicy-scented curls. "I think we will be helping more than ourselves if we win," said Frodo.
"That makes you happy, doesn't it, love?" said Sam admiringly, kissing Frodo's cheek. "Helping other people."
"Yes." Frodo closed his eyes, feeling the breeze sneak into the alley and brush away his cares. "Let's go home and have a pleasant dinner, shall we?"
And Sam and Frodo stepped back out into the hot sun and headed towards Morgo's stables.
TBC...