Frodo rolled over in his sleep, his right hand reaching out to feel the empty place in the bed where Sam usually slept. The sheets were cold, and had been for some time. Wiping the bleariness from his eyes, Frodo sat up silently in bed. The room was dark though in a moment his eyes had adjusted. He gazed about the room until his eyes fell on that which he was looking for.

Sam stood by the window, bathed in the bright, blue moonlight. Wearing only a cotton nightshirt, which hung loosely over his heavy midsection. One hand lay on the windowsill, the other resting casually upon his swollen belly. He was staring out the window, with a strange expression on his face. Somewhere between grief and anger.

Almost afraid to disturb his lover, Frodo sat quietly and watched him. How lovely Sam had become in the past few months, not that Frodo hadn't found Sam beautiful before, but there was something about him now that he was with child. There was a golden glow that Sam hadn't possessed before, it positively radiated from him, making Frodo feel as though he might be blinded by it at times. Frodo's eyes traced the line of Sam's strong shoulders, and down his muscular arms. His eyes finally fell to Sam's stomach, where their child resided, unborn. A smile grew on Frodo's face.

He cleared his throat a little. "You couldn't sleep, dearest?"

Sam turned, and Frodo noticed for the first time that he'd been crying, the soft glow of the moon reflecting in his wet eyes. Before he knew it, Frodo was out of bed, and padding across the cool wooden floor to comfort his love. Taking Sam in his arms, he held him tight to his chest.

"What is it, Sam? Why are you crying?"

"I just ... I miss my Gaffer, Frodo." Sam whimpered.

It had been four months since Sam had talked to his father. The night they had told the Gaffer about their joyous news, he had hurt Sam terribly. It had been just too much for Sam to deal with, in his condition, having his father blaming Frodo and telling him that he was a fool and a liar. Though maybe not in those words, Sam knew that had been the intended meaning.

He was still angry with his father for not accepting the prospect of their child, but tonight Sam found that he was missing his father even more. Never before had he refrained from speaking to the Gaffer in anger, and four months was a very long time. He was torn. Feeling as though he had to choose between his Gaffer and the family he was beginning to build with Frodo. How could he forgive the Gaffer what he'd said?

Frodo tried to soothe Sam as best he could. It seemed like an eternity that they stood there, Sam's head on his shoulder, his arms around Sam. He knew it pained Sam to be angry with the Gaffer for so long, but he didn't know how to ease it. It was because of the Gaffer's reaction that Sam and asked if they could refrain from telling others about the baby until it was absolutely necessary.

"Sam, love, come back to bed." Frodo pleaded, leading his lover back to the warm bed, he had left so quickly.

"Next week's his birthday, you know." Sam sniffled, climbing onto the bed.

"I know. Would it help if I talked to him?"

"I don't rightly know. He can be pretty unreasonable, my Gaffer."

Frodo smiled. "It must be a family trait. That old Gamgee spirit I love so much."

Sam chuckled softly and lay back against the pillows. Releasing and audible sigh and running his hands over his swollen abdomen, a sad expression coming over his face.

"I just don't want this little one to miss out on spending time with the Gaffer, Frodo. Even through all my anger, I couldn't deprive a child it's family."

"I know, Sam."

Frodo moved closer, embracing Sam. He reached out his right hand once more and laid it on Sam's, watching him relax once more. Tomorrow he thought, tomorrow I'll right this wrong.