Title: The Depths of Love (1-20 of 20)

Author: Taelin

Pairing: F/S
Rating: PG-R (depending on chapter)
Summary: Things around Bag End are about to change. Will Sam be able to handle things? Mostly just mindless babblings of my crazy mind.

Chapter One

The birds sang softly outside the window on the morning of June nineteenth. Sam awoke to the sickeningly sweet scent of the mock orange bush in the garden. He loved starting the day with his nostrils filled with that scent. It had pleased him from the day he moved into Bag End. Forever would it remind him of warm summer afternoons, in the garden with his strong hands deep in the cool earth while listening to Frodo reading some elvish story.

He could have stayed forever, half sitting in bed, simply smelling the air, and enjoying the sun. But he knew he must rouse himself. Up, up, Sam Gamgee! You've work to do! What would the Gaffer think if he saw you lazing about in bed at this hour?

One last long sniff of the air, as he buttoned his weskit, and he was off into the kitchen for some tea. He walked down the hallway towards the kitchen, feeling slightly faint. For a few days now, Sam realized that he hadn't been feeling all too well, though he would never let on to Frodo. It would pass, and was probably just a touch of cold from working in the rain last week.

"Good morning, Sam." Frodo said looking up from his book with a smile.

"G'morning, Frodo, me dear" he said with a nod as he passed through the living room to the kitchen, still talking. "You let me oversleep this morning! Though I wont complain too much, as I seem to need it, as of late." Sam mused peering out the kitchen doorway.

The tea smelled wonderful, the soft, sweet smell of strawberries. Though for the first time in his life, Sam felt his stomach lurch at the thought of actually ingesting some. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so sick as to feel sick at the very thought of food. Deciding against having some tea himself, he poured a cup for Frodo.

Though, just as he entered the living room, with the cup and saucer in his hand, he felt a wave of nausea pass over him. The room seemed to spin, and grow dark. He swallowed hard, and closed his eyes. Please don't let me be sick now, not in front of Mr. Frodo! He thought to himself. Just then he heard the sound of china hitting the floor and breaking into tiny pieces.

Opening his eyes, Sam realized that he'd dropped the cup and saucer full of tea. It burned slightly on his legs and through his trousers. Frodo had come running, and was wearing a rather worried look on his face when he saw Sam leaning against the doorway.

"Are you alright, dearest?" Frodo asked his voice filled with concern. "You look ill. Come, sit down a moment!"

"I'm.. I'm alright," Sam muttered, allowing himself to be guided to a chair near the fire. It wasn't like Sam to be clumsy, least not when it came to Frodo's things. "I'm sorry I broke your cup, me dear." He stammered.

"It's alright. It's only a cup and saucer. You're sure that you're alright, though. Should I call for a Healer?" Frodo asked. He had begun to worry about Sam in the past few days. Sam seemed unusually tired, sleeping passed when Frodo woke. He also was beginning to seem rather clumsy, and now that Frodo thought of it, Sam hadn't looked well. The usual rosy glow about his cheeks had faded, and he seemed rather gray.

Sam had closed his eyes, and was breathing in long deep breaths. Hoping that this would all pass. He hated worrying Frodo, and was sure he would be fine in a moment. "No, my love, I think I'll be alright. I just felt a little light-headed, is all." Sam managed to get out between breaths. I don't need a Healer, he thought.

Feeling as though the worst had passed, he opened his eyes and looked Frodo straight in the eyes. How he loved those startling blue eyes. Always cool, and calm, like deep pools in which to lose oneself in. No matter how afraid Sam felt, one look into his lover's eyes and he could feel himself grounded once more.

"Oh dear, look at the mess I've made." Sam whispered, almost to himself as he glanced at the china pieces on the floor and the stain on the carpet. Patting Frodo's hand softly he rose from the chair to clean up the mess. Though he must have rose too quickly, as the room began to spin, and dark spots appeared in his vision. He reached out for something, anything to hold himself up. Though as the blackness took over, he felt Frodo's arms catch him before he hit the ground.

Sam woke abruptly, feeling rather ill. He was back in bed, and Frodo was by his side. Reaching out, he grabbed the basin that was placed on the nightstand for washing, and retched long and hard into it. He'd never felt so sick. It was as though he had no control over his body. Another wave of nausea, and more retching. Frodo was now sitting behind him, holding back Sam's hair with one hand and rubbing his back softly with the other.

"I've called the Healer, and he's on his way, Dearest." Frodo spoke softly as he laid Sam back against the pillows. "Why didn't you tell me that you were so ill, love?"

"I thought it would pass," Sam said feeling rather foolish now. "Besides, I didn't want to worry you."

"I've a right to worry over you now, Samwise Gamgee." Frodo scolded softly. "You gave me a terrible fright there." Just then there was a soft knock on the door. Frodo gave Sam a soft but worried look before going to let the Healer in.

"Morning, Mr. Frodo, sir." Sam could hear the Healer saying out in the corridor. "I'll go and see to him, alone, if that's alright?" To which Sam heard Frodo consent to.

There was a soft knock on the bedroom door. The Healer had left over an hour ago, but had requested that Sam be allowed to rest a while in private. His heart pounded against his chest, as Frodo entered the room. What was he to say? How was he to explain? His breath came in ragged sighs.

Frodo looked worried and scared all at the same time. He knew Sam was ill, though from the look upon Sam's face, perhaps it was worse than he'd thought. Sam was usually so strong, so solid. It pained Frodo to see him seem so weak and weary. He watched as a single tear slid down Sam's cheek.

"Sam, is the news that bad?" Frodo asked. His head swam with possibilities of what could be ailing his lover. None of them good.

Taking a deep breath and wiping the tear from his cheek, Sam shook his head. "No, not really bad news, just surprising, if you get my meaning." He took a deep breath and motioned for Frodo to come to him. Taking Frodo's hand, he placed it on his stomach, and with disbelief in his voice he managed to choke out, "We're going to have a baby." Sam then broke into tears.