elderberrywine (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
elderberrywine) wrote2004-05-16 11:13 pm
elderberrywine) wrote2004-05-16 11:13 pm
New fic - Floating Into Light - Finale
So we have come at last to the end - Floating Into Light, Part Five, and the last. Not all tears are an evil - OK, I'll shut up now.
But methinks we need to take another look at those Tooks. Hmmm...
Hope you all enjoy.
Title: Floating Into Light, Part Five
Author: Elderberry Wine
Pairing: Frodo/Sam
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Home again, home again.
Floating into Light
Part Five
Lanterns had been hung from the tree branches surrounding the back of the younger Cottons’ smial, and there was still plenty of food left on the table under the great oak. Bowls of cherries and apricots were laid next to the sweet buns and little cakes. And for those with less of a sweet tooth, and wishing for something that went a bit better with beer, there were loaves of dark rustic bread, and half a wheel of cheddar. For there was certainly beer as well, what party would be complete without it? The keg was sat right beside Tolman Cotton, or rather he beside it, and there wasn’t a hobbit that passed by that wasn’t urged to have just another half-pint. Surely it wasn’t every day that you had a Took as your guest of honor.
And indeed, those guests from Hobbiton, a rather goodly crowd, shook their heads at the sheer extravagance of it all, and declared that they couldn’t remember such a glorious party that hadn’t been occasioned by either a wedding, a birthday, or the harvest. But Tolman had joined forces with May Gamgee, and that combination was undeniably a formidable one.
Of course, Pearl Took had turned out to be a delightful addition to the festivities. Daisy had summoned her sister to assist in adorning Pearl’s tall, spare form. May, thrilled by the challenge, rose to the occasion, just as Daisy had fully expected. Using a combination of Daisy’s meager wardrobe, for she and Pearl were close in height and frame, and what was salvageable of Pearl’s own, with the addition of whatever adornments May herself could provide, she set to her task. And when she was through, Pearl was indeed a unique and enchanting vision, with her abundant red curls and unusual green eyes set off just so. May had been quite pleased, with just cause, of her handiwork, and even Pearl herself had to acknowledge the results were really rather amazing. Daisy kept quiet, but her eyes shone in delight at Pearl’s transformation.
But it was far more than just Pearl’s appearance that brought such pleasure to the festivities, for it was the talk of Hobbiton for many a month afterward what a charming and unassuming lass she was, for all she was a gentle-hobbit of perhaps the most venerable family in all of the Shire. For she danced every dance, and didn’t leave a single lad out. From Nibs Cotton, who was blushing so violently throughout the entire reel that he was a perfect match for her flaming curls, to Gaffer Gamgee himself, who, protesting heartily, was dragged into the dance by his two giggling younger daughters, but who stayed dancing until they finally had to intervene again, this time with a bit of concern for his stamina, she was the center of it all.
Daisy sat on a bench under the elms to the back of the field, and watched, with a fond smile on her face. She hummed the dance tunes quietly to herself, and felt the pleasant cool evening breeze upon her face, and felt happier than she could ever remember.
But the evening finally came to an end, as all good things must, and when the bowls and the plates upon the great wooden table were finally starting to look somewhat sparse, and the beer had been nearly drained from the kegs, the friends and neighbors eventually began to pay their respects and leave. The night had been a wonderful and glorious one, but there was the summer planting on the morrow, and the seedlings would not wait.
Daisy slipped back into the kitchen to help with the washing up, but when Pearl, who had been standing between Tolman and the gaffer, had bid farewell to the last guest, she laid down the towel and offered to walk Pearl back to Bag End.
The night was warm and fragrant, and the white moths flew all about the small lantern that Daisy held to light their way back. Pearl tucked her arm under Daisy’s, as soon as they were out of sight of the others, and Daisy clasped her hand quite tightly. Had it only been a day since they had spent the afternoon in the field above Bag End? Daisy’s heart and mind were still full of memories, of their shared revelations, of those hesitant, sweet kisses that they had exchanged.
A quiet, rational corner of her mind reminded her that Frodo and Sam would surely be returning any day soon, and Pearl would go, and vanish from her mundane life as suddenly as she had appeared, but Daisy firmly turned those thoughts away, and fell to dreaming that it was Pearl who lived in Bag End, and that what had started between them would not be ending any time soon. How often she was reminded of Sam now, and how well she began to understand her brother’s heart.
Pearl was silent as they walked through the fields that separated the Cotton farm and Bag End, her previous gaiety gone from her. They had reached the back garden, under the jasmine vine that was fragrantly glimmering in the warm night air, when she finally stopped, and turning to Daisy, clasped her shoulders tightly. “We don’t have much time,” she said in a low voice, “Frodo will be back any day.”
Daisy nodded mutely, the lantern held to one side, but her other hand reaching up to encircle Pearl’s waist.
“Will you stay with me?” Pearl whispered, carefully searching Daisy’s eyes in the faint circle of illumination that surrounded the two of them.
Daisy swallowed. “My Da will be waitin’ for me, as will my sister,” she finally answered, in a voice heavy with regret.
Pearl looked down and nodded, but did not let go of Daisy.
With a choked sound, nearly a sob, Daisy suddenly reached up to Pearl’s face with her free hand, and brought her mouth to Pearl’s in a sudden fierce kiss. Then Pearl was left standing, the lantern thrust into her hand, and Daisy was gone in the dark night.
*****
Frodo woke slowly, feeling warm and so very languid. He was in a familiar bed, in a room that had been achingly well-known, but the loving presence close against his side, in the narrow bed that was meant only for one, would ever be new to him. With a tender smile, he opened his eyes to gaze upon the dear face that was, eyes closed and breath regular in sleep, lying next to his. The golden curls, strewn over the tanned face, caught at the morning sun as it shone through the opened window, and the slightly snubbed nose, with its light dusting of freckles, the luxurious light brown lashes upon the faintly reddened cheeks, and the perfectly bowed mouth, well, it all delighted Frodo more than he ever could have said, as he fondly gazed on Sam. How he had ever made his way through day after dreary day without this great gift of love that he had been given, he would never know. Sam sighed slightly as Frodo watched, still asleep, but his arm, which was wrapped around Frodo’s waist, tightened just a bit. He was waking now, and Frodo leaned forward to fondly, lightly, kiss him awake.
“Good morning, Sam, my love,” he whispered, as Sam’s eyes sleepily flickered open. Lifting his hand, he ran it tenderly through his mussed hair. “Time for us to be going home, I think.”
Sam’s drowsy smile was response enough. He snuggled his face into the crook of Frodo’s neck and kissed it lingeringly.
“Ah, don’t you start on me, now,” Frodo laughed at that, hugging Sam tightly. “They begin breakfast early here, you know.” Sam gave a chuckle then, and with his face still buried, stretched luxuriously out against Frodo.
“Sam!” Frodo cried out happily at Sam’s tease, and sat up as abruptly as he could with Sam’s weight still partially on him.
“Ah, well, then,” Sam gave a mock sigh of disappointment as he sat up as well, “guess I’d have to be content with just breakfast, then.”
“Just wait until we’re back at Bag End, my dear,” Frodo kissed the tip of his nose lightly, “and I promise you a whole day in bed anytime you like.”
“Aye, we’d best be gettin’ on the road than,” Sam chuckled, swinging his legs around to the floor.
It wasn’t until Frodo flung the light blanket aside that he was struck with a sudden disquieting thought. “Our clothes,” he muttered, turning to Sam in alarm. “Someone’s probably picked them up by now.”
But Sam did not seem in the least perturbed, in fact, he grinned in a rather pleased manner. “On the chair,” he waved airily to the plain wooden chair in the corner where, indeed, Frodo could now see his jacket and shirt neatly folded, with Sam’s jacket underneath.
“Oh, Sam, you are too clever,” Frodo exclaimed admiringly, dressing quickly. “Whenever did you get them?”
“Last night,” Sam explained, still grinning. “Woke up in the middle of the night, thinkin’ about them.”
“Why, I never knew you were gone,” Frodo said in surprise.
“Didn’t think so,” Sam replied, a trifle smugly, as he drew on his jacket. “You were that tired, to be sure. Snoring right fine, you still were, when I got back.”
“Snoring!” Frodo exclaimed, indignantly. “Why, I never do!”
Sam laughed at that. “Sometimes you do, me dear. But I love it. And you.” With that, he threw an arm around Frodo’s shoulders and kissed him soundly. “Breakfast sounds fine at that. And don’t you be forgettin’ your promise, Frodo Baggins.”
“Never,” Frodo assured him, warmly, just before he found his mouth again. “You have my word on it, Sam.”
*****
First breakfast was normally a rather scattered affair at Brandy Hall, since some family members were up and about earlier than others, and Frodo was not surprised to see just Saradoc and Paladin, standing by the breakfast table but gazing out of the large window to the fields beyond, as he and Sam entered. They stood with a plate in hand each, absently eating sausage and tomatoes, as they discussed the affairs of the Brandybuck lands and Tuckburough. Frodo and Sam had already agreed that Sam would find Halstad in the pastures, and wait for Frodo there, giving Frodo the opportunity to find Merry and Pippin and have a quick word with them before he left. Frodo had hoped to give Sam some food to take with him, but he had not counted upon his uncles being here alone in the dining hall.
They both had turned around as Frodo and Sam had entered, and before Sam could duck quickly out again, Saradoc broke off his conversation with Paladin and strode towards them, his brother-in-law in tow. “Samwise Gamgee?” he asked with a smile, holding a hand out to Sam.
“Aye, if you please, sir,” answered Sam, caught off guard, but hesitantly grasping the pro-offered hand, as his face instantly reddened.
“No chance to have a word with you last night, what with that mob that generally shows up for dinner,” Saradoc mentioned with a chuckle, “but I’m right glad to see you here, lad. Frodo, here, tells me you’re Hamfast Gamgee’s son?”
“Aye, sir, that’d be the truth,” Sam ducked his head in acknowledgement as Frodo stood beside him, watching his uncle in surprise.
“Well, a fine hobbit he is, to be sure. Bilbo brought him by many a time, and my gardeners would still be thanking him for some of his advice. Right nice to be seeing you here, lad, and be sure you bring your father with you the next time you come. I’d dearly love to have a word with him again, for all Bilbo’s taken off to parts unknown.”
“Thank you kindly, Mr. Saradoc,” Sam replied politely, even if he was still a bit taken aback by the Master of Brandy Hall’s warm reception.
“Now, I mean that, lad,” Saradoc added with a mock stern tone, but a kindly smile. “Well, I won’t be keeping you, then.”
Sam gave a grateful quick nod, and turned to Frodo. “I won’t be long, Sam,” Frodo gave him a warm smile, and Sam quickly left.
Frodo turned uncertainly toward Saradoc as Sam left, but the elder hobbit gave him a suddenly serious look. “You could be doing far worse that that, Frodo,” he said quietly, giving Frodo an unnervingly direct gaze. “And I hope you’ll keep coming around, for Merry’s sake.”
“Aunt Esme’d just as soon that I wouldn’t,” Frodo stated, uncertainly.
“Well, I’d just as soon that you did,” Saradoc stated firmly, in a voice that allowed no opposition. “Merry needs you, Frodo. Don’t be a stranger here.”
“Pippin as well,” Paladin added softly at that, standing quietly behind Saradoc. “You mean a great deal to both of them, Frodo, and don’t you be forgetting that.”
*****
Sam knew where the dining hall for the rest of the inhabitants of Brandy Hall was from his previous visit last Yuletide, and hoping to pick up a bit of breakfast before he went in search of Halstad, he thought to stop by there first. With as many hobbits as came and went on this great estate, he had hopes of slipping in and out unnoticed.
And he almost did. But as he re-entered the courtyard, biting into a ripe peach, with an apple and wedge of bread safely in his pocket, Merry was standing on the path to the stables, arms crossed over his chest, watching him with an unreadable expression. Sam swallowed the bite of peach unconsciously, and stood still, the juice from the peach dripping down onto the scuffed dirt about his feet. Then Merry gave a slight tip of his head, and turning, walked up the stable path away from the courtyard. With a sinking feeling, Sam followed, trying to finish the peach as he walked, and wishing he had chosen a less messy fruit.
The cool shadowy stable, with its high raftered roof, was empty of hobbits this time of day, all of them being at second breakfast by now. The ponies moved restlessly in their stalls, anticipating being let out into the fields as soon as the dew had dried from the grass. Merry found a bundle of hay from the stack on the back against the wall, and motioned silently to Sam, who was still hesitantly following, indicating another twine-bound stack. Sam would have preferred to stay standing, but sat as he was directed.
Merry had plucked a piece of straw from the ground and was running it moodily through his long fingers when he finally spoke. ”I wanted, well, I really needed to…” he muttered, staring still at the straw, but then he lifted his head, and with a certain set to his jaw, stared bravely at Sam. “I’m sorry, Sam. I really have been treating you and Frodo badly, and especially you.”
Sam stared at him, his nervousness suddenly gone. “I’m sorry, too,” he answered quietly. “It must be that hard.”
Merry swallowed suddenly at that and quickly stood up, turning his back to Sam. “You have no idea,” Sam heard him say, in a choked tone.
Sam stared sightlessly down at his feet. “How many o’those as we love have we hurt,” he murmured suddenly, and it was not a question.
Merry twisted quickly around at that, and stared at Sam intently. “You can’t be regretting it, though,” he said finally.
Sam looked up swiftly at that, and the pain was evident in his eyes, even to an reluctant Merry. “What we’ve done? Never,” Sam said softly. “But hurtin’ those as love us? More‘n I can say.”
Merry said nothing at that, but gazed upon Sam as if he had, for the first time, really seen him. “Don’t regret it,” he said abruptly. “Never regret it. I’ve seen Frodo’s face when he looks at you, when he thinks that no one else sees him. I can’t tell you how much I would have given to have had him look at me like that, but he never will. He’s chosen, Sam, and it’s you. Never, never regret that he’s made that choice.”
Sam looked at him steadily. “T’would never happen,” he stated firmly, his eyes holding Merry’s. “My heart’d be his, an’ my life’d be but to follow him.”
Merry held his gaze but a moment more until a slow, almost unwilling smile stole across his face. “Frodo chose well,” he stated softly, and with a quick clasp of his hand to Sam’s shoulder, left the stable.
*****
It was the laughter that caught Frodo’s ear, as he rounded the hill. Clear and free, and immediately recognizable. As he walked about the bend, into the upper pasture, his eyes fell immediately upon Halstad and a couple other of the herders, leaning upon their staffs and laughing heartily, and in the middle of them all, was Sam, with his face alight and smiling. But that was nothing to the warm glance he gave Frodo, when he turned around and noticed Frodo, quietly standing under the shadow of the oak. And all of a sudden, there was no one else in Sam’s eyes, and his smile was all at once for Frodo alone.
Frodo strode forward at that, joy unexpectedly surging up in his heart that they were finally on their way home. It suddenly seemed forever since they had had a quiet supper in the cozy kitchen of Bag End, since they had spent a tranquil evening, with book in hand, in front of the evening blaze in the study, since they had lain in their feather bed and made love far into the night, and oh, but Sam was home and Sam was love, and all he’d ever wanted.
Sam had seen Frodo’s expression, and had read it true, and waited, quietly but impatiently, by the oak as Frodo thanked Halstad for his assistance and bade him farewell. And as soon as they were out of sight, on the road to the river, Frodo had Sam against a tree, and Sam’s voice was sighing in his ear, and it was hard, very hard, to pull away from each other, and head back to the cave where they had left their packs the day before.
*****
As they turned the bend in the rush road, though, where the hidden path up to the cave lay, it was immediately obvious that they were not to be continuing their journey alone. Pippin and Merry were sitting cross-legged by the side of the road, and Sam immediately spotted his and Frodo’s packs at Pippin’s side.
“Oh, there you two are,” Pippin withdrew the pipe from his mouth and waved cheerfully. “I’d been telling Merry that he really needs to get away for a bit of a holiday, and he finally caved in. So here we all are, then,” he beamed.
Frodo stopped and eyed his cousins skeptically. “Isn’t this how it all started anyway, Pip?”
“No, no, Frodo.” Pippin stood up and shook off the stray bits of reed. Patiently, he explained. “This time we asked. Well, maybe not so much as asked, but we did mention it. At least, rather put the idea in their heads.” He paused at that, and then added thoughtfully, “Well, I think they know where we went…”
Merry stood up quietly next to him, and added, in a rather reserved voice, giving Frodo a diffident look, “Of course, only if you don’t mind…”
But Frodo immediately strode over to him and wrapped his older cousin in a warm hug. “Mind? Of course not, my dearest.” And he turned to Sam, with his arms still tight around Merry. “What do you say, Sam? Should we let these rascals tag along?” he asked, glancing over to him.
“T’would be a pleasure, an’ sure it would,” Sam responded, with a warm smile, as Pippin continued to beam at Merry’s side, which seemed to settle the matter.
*****
They had crossed the Brandywine by way of the bridge this time, and were a bit beyond the wide river, when the evening fog rolled in. The weather could be a bit tricky, in early summer, and the warmest of days was often followed by a damp and chilly night. Such was the case on this evening. There would be no rain, but the river fog was heavy and by mid-afternoon, already held the banks in a thick white mist.
“Not much use trying to make our way any farther today, I think,” Frodo, walking in the front with Merry, stopped and looked ahead thoughtfully. “We may already be off the path, it’s hard to tell.”
Merry nodded. “It’ll be easier to take a look about come morning,” he agreed. “I noticed a couple of fallen logs just back a bit. That might be a good spot to make camp.”
“Right then,” Frodo turned back to the other two, who had fallen back slightly, chatting and laughingly discussing the tribulations of being raised by sisters. Sam remembered the spot that Merry had mentioned, and they quickly returned to it, gathering likely firewood as they went.
And in no time at all, the campfire was made, and had begun to cheerily flame, and Sam had the kettle on for tea. With a rather unusual amount of foresight, Pippin had thought to have Cook pack a bag or two for them, so Sam soon had a thick soup of vegetables and sausage, with bits of herbs bubbling merrily away, and they began to toast some bread and cheese for tea. Enclosed in their cozy circle of light and warmth in the darkening damp dusk that surrounded them, it did not take the four hobbits long to forget entirely the world about them.
Merry had been somewhat quiet and subdued initially, but the effect of Frodo’s and Pippin’s easy conversation soon began to soothe him, and before they had begun on the soup, he was far more relaxed and outgoing. Sam quietly busied himself in the details of dinner, but Frodo sat quite close to him, and on several occasions during the evening, met Sam’s hand with his own for a quick tight grasp, a matter not commented on in the least by the other two.
Pippin was saving his crowning achievement for afters, however, for no sooner had the soup kettle been rather thoroughly emptied of soup, leaving its eventual cleaning up merely a formality, than Pippin triumphantly produced a flask of the finest eponymous brandy from the Hall. Merry whistled at that, his eyes gleaming. “That, my dear Pip,” he pronounced solemnly, “is surely the result of a feat of amazing skill. Because I know that my father does not allow that to leave the doors of Brandy Hall willingly.”
“It would be best to hope that he does not visit the farther corners of the wine cellar in the near future,” Pippin agreed delicately, “for I would hate to see suspicion fall on such lads of tender years as ourselves.”
“You young scamp!” laughed Frodo in delight, reaching out for the precious vial, “I am most impressed. I’ve only tasted a small glass, on the most solemn of occasions, and yet look. A whole flask! Indeed, Peregrin Took, you seem to have found your calling in life.”
Pippin grinned, quite pleased with himself. “They never suspect the young ones,” he confided, happily.
“A mistake we’d never make,” Frodo chuckled, carefully pouring a few inches into the three mugs held out towards him, as well as his own. “But your reputation is safe with us, Pip.”
The coils of white chilled mist crept past the fire’s circle, but the four within, warmed by not only the flames and the fiery liquid, but by each other’s company, laughed and chatted, and drank, far into the night.
*****
Sam awoke later in the evening. The fire had burnt quite low, but he was feeling warm and very comfortable. Gradually, he realized that the later was due to the fact that his head was cradled in Frodo’s lap, and one of Frodo’s hands was draped rather securely around his shoulder. Something was at the waking edge of his consciousness, but for the moment, he was content with the feel of Frodo’s hand holding him close, and the warmth of Frodo’s legs against his cheek.
But then he slowly realized what had awoken him. There was an indescribable sound far off, barely distinguishable, and like nothing he’d ever heard before. Carefully, he raised his head, not wishing to disturb Frodo, whose steady breathing confirmed the fact that he was asleep. But he was consumed with curiosity. It was like song, yet like no voice that he had ever heard, only barely audible, like the memory of a melody from years gone by, perhaps something his mother had once sung to him.
Carefully, he eased from Frodo’s loose grasp, glancing back at Frodo, who had been sitting with his back against one of the fallen logs. But Frodo’s eyes had opened and in the dim light of the dying fire, he was staring back at Sam.
“Listen,” Sam breathed. “D’ye hear that?”
Frodo nodded dumbly, and, as of one mind, they silently rose to their feet. Merry and Pippin were still fast asleep, fallen together in a rather complex knot, and breathing in concert with light harmonic snores.
To their surprise, as they stepped away from the circle of firelight, the heavy fog of earlier that evening had dissipated, and they could make out their way by the light of the half moon above. Stealthily, they slipped into the woods, and now it seemed as though they heard faint laughter as well, and there appeared to be, far ahead, the ghost of a glimmering light. Silently, they approached, with unknowingly clasped hands, when there was a sudden sharply amused murmur, and a flurry of silvery lights, and the feel of a breath passing by them, and the woods were suddenly dark and silent about them again.
But there was no doubt in either of their minds as to what they had almost seen. “Elves,” Sam whispered, and in the moonlight, Frodo could still see the awe and wonder on his face.
“Yes,” he answered, in just as hushed a voice, “I believe so.”
Sam’s hand was still caught up tightly in Frodo’s, and Frodo was suddenly struck by the yearning he saw on those well-loved features. “D‘ye ever think we‘d be seein‘ them, one of these days?” Sam turned to Frodo, wistfully.
“Of course, Sam dearest,” Frodo smiled back tenderly. “One of these days we’ll go look for elves. Just the two of us, Sam. And maybe we’ll come back, and maybe we’ll stay gone, just like Bilbo. But we’ll see them together, you and I.”
“Ah,” sighed Sam happily, “that would be right fine, that would. As long as we’d be together, me dear.” Raising up his hand to the side of Frodo’s face, he lifted his mouth to Frodo’s and kissed him slowly and most thoroughly. Frodo gave a murmur of appreciation as his arms found themselves tightly around Sam.
They did not make their way back to camp until the glowing moon had nearly set.
*****
Pippin was unlike his normal cheerful self the next morning, and wondered, rather crossly, why everyone felt the need to shout so. Merry, looking rather stoic himself, gave a faint smile at that. “Cold water helps, Pip,” he muttered, rising slowly and cautiously to his feet, and holding out a hand to the youngest hobbit, who was gingerly rubbing his temples, and not appearing interested, in the least, in the breakfast that Sam was serenely preparing. Pippin allowed himself to be hauled up, and gave a few uncertain steps, his face suddenly revealing that that might not have been the wisest of moves. “All right, then,” Merry quickly threw a supporting arm around him. “This way, Pip,” and with a certain amount of hastiness, hustled the unfortunate Pippin from the campground.
“Would he be all right, then?” Sam looked after the departing pair with some concern, as he turned over the bacon frying in the pan.
“Oh, they’ll be fine,” Frodo chuckled. “Young stomachs. Lack of practice. You seemed to handle it quite well, though,” he grinned at Sam with a raised eyebrow.
“Well, I’d have grown up on the gaffer’s home brew,” Sam said placidly, flipping the bacon once more. “I’d bet even Marigold could drink those two down, any day.”
“And why have I never had the pleasure of tasting this fine brew?” Frodo raised the other eyebrow as well at that.
“I expect the gaffer thought it a bit rough for the fine stomachs of gentle-hobbits.” Sam dexterously flipped the bacon next to the toast and tomatoes on the waiting plate, and passed it to Frodo.
“But not too strong for young lads and lasses?” Frodo asked skeptically, placing a couple of pieces of bacon over a piece of toast and biting into it with relish.
“Ah, but we’d be Gamgees, now,” Sam chuckled, adding a tomato to his piece of toast and throwing three slices of bacon over the top. “Just as well I didn’t fry the whole lot,” he added philosophically. “Looks as though the other two won’t be joinin’ us.”
*****
Pippin and Merry seemed recovered enough when they returned later that morning, and the four continued on. The next couple of days passed in a pleasant blur of walking, swimming in any stream that they passed, stopping as often for a meal as their supplies would allow, and spending congenial evenings about the fire. But all too soon, the path through the woods met up with the main road between Hobbiton and Buckland, and it was time for Merry and Pippin to be turning back. They had stopped for elevensies not far from the road, and Frodo took the opportunity, as Pippin helped Sam pack up, to take Merry by the hand and lead him away from the path, to a small stand of young sycamores in a sunny grassy clearing. Merry followed, not unwillingly, and with his hand tight around Frodo’s, but his face was quiet and closed off.
He turned toward Frodo, his face dappled with light under the young bright green leaves, and reached for Frodo’s other hand as well, his eyes cast downwards at Frodo’s pale nail-bitten fingers within his long strong ones. Frodo stayed silent, knowing that Merry was collecting himself, and giving him time.
At last Merry looked up, staring resolutely into Frodo’s concerned eyes. “I’m won’t say it isn’t hard,” he said softly, his voice catching slightly. But he cleared his throat a bit then, and continued, his voice gaining strength, and his jaw setting in a manner that was so familiar to Frodo that a pang shot involuntarily through him as he watched his cousin, “but it wasn’t right of me to assume. To think that you must feel as I did. To forget that you’ve been away for years, that you’ve found someone to love, someone who obviously loves you more than anything. To regret that you’re so happy. I’m sorry, Frodo. It wasn’t right of me at all.”
“Merry,” Frodo whispered, his eyes welling with tears at Merry’s words. Slowly, he lifted his hand to Merry’s cheek, cupping it gently. “You’ll always be my dearest cousin. You’ll always be that loving heart who gave me reassurance and strength, when I needed it so desperately. You were all I had to love, and you were all I needed. I would have given anything not to hurt you as I have done.”
“I know, Frodo dearest,” Merry said quietly, his mouth quirking up in a rueful smile that was so very well-known to Frodo, his own hand coming up to rest over Frodo’s. “You always looked out for me, didn’t you. And still do.”
Frodo gulped at that, tears starting to spill unbidden down his cheeks. “That’s all right, Frodo,” Merry whispered in a quavering voice, tightly embracing Frodo, and burying his face against Frodo’s shoulder. “That’s all right, my dearest. I could never stop loving you, you know.”
Sam and Pippin sat side by side on the side of the road, waiting for the other two. Conversation had been somewhat intermittent and distracted when Sam turned suddenly to Pippin and gazing at him worriedly, said, rather shyly, “The two of you’d still be comin’ to see Frodo, now, wouldn’t you? Just because I’d be livin’ at Bag End too, I hope that wouldn’t mean you or Merry’d feel any different…” His voice trailed off, and gathering himself, he added bravely, “Frodo still misses you both, I know he does. You’d be all the family he’s got.”
Pippin turned to him and, regarding him warmly, with an understanding beyond his years, said quietly, “Don’t you be worrying, Sam. Merry will come around, he loves Frodo far too much not to. We’ll be on your doorstep before you know it. Never you fear, Sam dear, Frodo hasn’t lost anything by falling in love with you. Ah,” he glanced up, with a bright smile on his face, “here they are.”
******
It was the last leg of the journey, the last few miles before Frodo and Sam came to the outskirts of Hobbiton, and ahead, Bag End. And as much as they were both looking forward to being home, yet there was a certain reluctance in returning. It was early afternoon, the sun was yet high overhead, and if they had pressed steadily onward, they could have been at Bag End before nightfall. Yet both Sam and Frodo found themselves in no hurry to do that. The path through the woods was theirs alone, and the afternoon was warm and ripe. It would be mid-summer in a day, and the light would linger on, far into the evening. Frodo paused, under the oak, knowing that the trees would be soon growing smaller from here, and that the fields were not far away. Suddenly, he knew not why, he could not stand the idea of being under a roof with Sam tonight. It was under the open sky where he wished to be, just he and Sam alone, as they had not been since they had set off from Bag End with Pippin, weeks ago.
Without a word of explanation, he grasped Sam’s hand and pulled him along, from the worn path, pushing through the bush that grew at the side of the dusty road, and into the thicket of oak and gorse. The bushes scratched and held firm, but Frodo pushed blindly against them, a willing Sam following. Finally the oak gave way to pine, and the pine to cedar, and the ground swelled up in a hill, and at the top, there was a bare grassy round, where the sun shone down uninterrupted, and the light breeze was welcome on their faces.
With a small sigh, Frodo dropped the pack from his shoulders, and spun around to Sam with a smile. Sam followed suit readily enough, and stepping up to Frodo, placed his hands on Frodo’s shoulders and said softly, “So you’d not be wishin’ your feather bed tonight, me dear?”
Frodo laughed happily, his hands coming to rest on Sam’s waist. “How can you read me so well, Sam dear?” he murmured, his hands slowly running down Sam’s hips and around the back.
“Practice, me dear,” Sam chuckled, drawing Frodo to him, his hands around his waist. “Practice. But never enough, love.” And with that, his mouth was on Frodo’s, hot and demanding, his tongue forcing its way past Frodo’s lips, not that Frodo was resisting, oh, no, not at all. And with a hungry moan, his mouth opened eagerly up to Sam’s, and his eyes closed with the sweet yearning for Sam, for his lips, his tongue, for his strong arms around him, for his inflaming touch, for the feel of him without end.
And his hands, oh, there was no way he could have kept them off of Sam, for they had to feel that sweet warm flesh at all costs. So they grasped breathlessly at Sam’s shirt, yanking it with a quick movement from his trousers, and hungrily ran slowly, unhurriedly, up his sides. Sam gave a choked gasp at that, and instantly reached for the buttons of Frodo’s shirt. Feverishly, they were undone, and with a quick tug, the shirt and jacket flew off his shoulders and Sam’s hands were on him, warm and insistent, stroking, caressing, inflaming his senses, making him crave more and more.
“Ah, Frodo, oh, Frodo,” moaned Sam, reaching for his own trousers and hurriedly unfastening them. And then Frodo felt his hand being grasped hastily by Sam, and guided blindly through the opened fabric, and then he lurched forward against Frodo as Frodo’s hand closed about him, hot, smooth, and he blindly thrust himself up against Frodo’s palm.
“Sam,” whispered Frodo passionately, awkwardly reaching for his own trousers with his left hand and hurriedly unfastening them as well. Shoving them off of him as best as he could, they pooled about his ankles, as he enclosed Sam’s closest thigh between his legs, and desperately ground himself hard against Sam, gasping with the feel of that firm flesh between his suddenly shaky knees, against that part of himself that cried out for more, and harder, and faster, and oh, just more, more.
Then his hand closed tightly around Sam, and pulled upward sharply, as Sam gave a wordless cry, his legs buckling under him. Down Sam went, Frodo following, and now he was stretched over Sam, and Sam was writhing under him, clutching at Frodo’s backside with all his strength, and thrusting himself up against Frodo, over and over.
“Sam!” gasped Frodo, braced up by only one hand, the other still on Sam, feeling his hips start to thrust rhythmically against Sam, again and again, “Oh, my Sam, my Sam.”
“Frodo,” Sam moaned in response, grinding himself up against Frodo with all his might, panting and arching his back desperately up. “Harder, Frodo, harder!” And Frodo obeyed, increasing the pace until he felt himself moistening, and Sam, within his hand, was not going to wait much longer. Down he thrust, one last time, tightening his grip on Sam almost painfully, and feeling Sam’s fingers dig desperately into his buttocks, as Sam arched up and gave a wild cry.
And then the release swept through him, sweet beyond belief, flooding through him, and pouring onto Sam’s stomach, and joining with his as well. They collapsed, Frodo heavily on top of Sam, and both lay there panting. But even though Frodo’s physical need had abated for the moment, his emotional one had not. “I love you, Sam,” he whispered passionately, holding tightly onto him. “Oh, how I love you.”
Sam gazed up at him, his golden curls radiant in the sunlight, lighting his face, and his hazel eyes shone brightly with unabashed adoration. “You’re everything, Frodo,” he whispered. “You’re everything to me.”
*****
Sam was quite surprised, when they reached Bag End early the next morning, that the smial had had a resident the entire time they were gone, but Frodo was not. The unpredictable nature of Tooks was all too familiar to him, and he laughed and told Pearl that he hoped she had a pleasant stay in this quiet, forgotten corner of the Shire.
She smiled at that, but said nothing. Frodo gave a condensed version of their journey, and politely offered her the guest room as long as she wished. But Pearl shook her head at that, and said that she wouldn’t dream of imposing on them, after such a trip, and that she would stay with friends in Hobbiton for the night, and find a wagon bound for Tuckborough the next day. It didn’t take long for her to pack up the few items that she had brought with her, and tidy up the room she’d been using, but before doing so, she had asked Sam, in an uncharacteristically shy manner, if he wouldn’t mind letting his sister Daisy know, and that perhaps she might walk with her into Hobbiton.
Sam did wonder at that, but left off unpacking his and Frodo’s packs, and headed down to Number Three. Daisy was in the back yard, as she generally was this time of the morning, hard at work, her hands deep in the steaming tub of laundry. She looked up at Sam with a smile at first, but then an odd expression crossed her face, and when Sam conveyed his message, she gasped, upsetting the tub. With no attempt to put it right, she quickly fled, her wet hands to her face, up the hill toward Bag End. Sam, concerned and amazed, carefully picked up the tub and clothes from where they had spilled on the ground, shook out the garments that had landed in the dirt, and plunged them back into the bucket of rinse water. Then he started up the hill after his sister.
Pearl had already left Frodo and Bag End, and was waiting for Daisy a little down the road. When Daisy ran up, tears streaming down her face, Pearl grasped her arm and urgently whispered, “The back road, Daisy. Show me.”
Daisy nodded, still without words, and led her to the back road to Hobbiton, away from all the other travelers. It was only then, in the leafy shade beside the little-used path, that she could turn towards Pearl and feel Pearl’s arms enclose her, and Pearl’s voice, on the verge of tears herself, whisper comfort to her.
Finally Daisy brought her head up and stared hopelessly at Pearl. “I should have stayed that night, Pearl, I wish I had.”
Pearl shook her head, tears on her own face but with a rueful smile, “No, Daisy. You weren’t ready for that, and to tell the truth, neither was I. ‘Tis best we didn’t.” She stretched out her hand at that, gently stroking Daisy’s face, and her eyes fell on the red mark, still vivid on her milky skin, of the burn she had received the first day at Bag End.
“Look, Daisy,” she said gently, holding out her wrist, “I’ll always remember you by this.”
“There’d be a mark on me, likewise,” choked out Daisy, staring desperately into Pearl’s eyes. “An’ it’ll always be there, no matter that none can see it.”
A look of determination came to Pearl’s face at that, and she gazed back at Daisy, almost sternly. “Then ‘tis not over,” she murmured with resolve. “There’ll be a way for us, Daisy Gamgee. If you’re willing for it to be so.”
“Oh, I am, I am,” Daisy cried out wildly, before her mouth found Pearl’s.
*****
Gandalf showed up at the round green door of Bag End only a few days later, unexpectedly, of course, as wizards are wont to do. It was tea time, and Frodo, happy indeed to see him, greeted him warmly. It took no time at all, of course, for Gandalf to surmise the changes at Bag End, and with many a deep chuckle, and shake of his head, to allow that hobbits were ever an unpredictable lot, but he was glad to hear of it, he truly was. Frodo asked after Bilbo, of course, and Gandalf informed him that Bilbo was, indeed, staying with the elves and seemed quite content.
It wasn’t until after dinner, that Gandalf asked after the ring of Bilbo’s, and Frodo had to stop for a moment and think of where it had ended up. Eventually he remembered it had been left in the great chest in the entrance hall, under a rather odd collection of stray items left behind by various visitors. After he fetched it for Gandalf, he watched curiously as the wizard held it up to the firelight and examined it carefully. Sam had been clearing off the dishes, and a contented occasional drift of song could be now and again heard, coming down the hall from the kitchen, above the dishwater splashes.
“Does Bilbo want it back?” Frodo asked with polite curiosity. “He’s welcome to it, you know. I’ve had no need for it.”
“No, no, I think not,” Gandalf answered absently, examining the artifact with scrupulous care. “No, I rather think it’s best off here.”
Placing it quickly back in the case in which Frodo had found it, he gave Frodo another warm smile. “Duty calls, my dear hobbit, and I must be off again. Take good care of that Sam of yours, now, and don’t use that trinket, Frodo, there’s a good lad. I’ll be back before you know it.” Frodo affectionately returned the embrace of the towering wizard, and Gandalf was gone again, as if he’d never been there.
Frodo stood at the green door, staring out into the dark night, suddenly piqued by inquisitiveness about Bilbo’s ring, which he had entirely forgotten until now. Bilbo had always carried it about, and it did seem to be a rather handy item to have in a pinch. Odd, he reflected suddenly, but he realized that he had never told Sam about it.
But then he heard Sam’s voice, calling him excitedly from the back of the smial. Carelessly, he tossed the ring in its case back into the chest, and slammed the lid tight, thinking no more of it. Running down the hall, he burst into the kitchen to find Sam at the kitchen door, impatiently waiting for him, with a broad smile on his face.
“Frodo, Frodo,” he gasped. “Come quick!” He reached out and grasped Frodo’s hand tightly, pulling him through the kitchen door out into the dark night.
Frodo followed, and following Sam’s gaze, looked up into the dark night sky and gave a cry of wonder. The black sky was alight with the shimmer of shooting stars, sparkling, dazzling, raining down on the two hobbits in a radiant glory. Close together, they stood in the kitchen garden, arms around each other, and staring up into the amazing sight in awe.
And then Sam gave a gleeful laugh, and grabbing Frodo’s hand, ran, in the dark, up the back path to the field above Bag End. Frodo ran behind him, and when they reached the top, looked wonderingly at this loving spirit that had so captured him. Sam lifted his face to the silvery lights in the sky, laughing with joy, his young face alight in the starry glow of the night. And Frodo, his heart so full of delight that there was nothing that he could say, clasped Sam about the waist, and spun him around under the stars.
*****
Below the ring waited, patiently. There was nothing it could offer Frodo now.
But methinks we need to take another look at those Tooks. Hmmm...
Hope you all enjoy.
Title: Floating Into Light, Part Five
Author: Elderberry Wine
Pairing: Frodo/Sam
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Home again, home again.
Floating into Light
Part Five
Lanterns had been hung from the tree branches surrounding the back of the younger Cottons’ smial, and there was still plenty of food left on the table under the great oak. Bowls of cherries and apricots were laid next to the sweet buns and little cakes. And for those with less of a sweet tooth, and wishing for something that went a bit better with beer, there were loaves of dark rustic bread, and half a wheel of cheddar. For there was certainly beer as well, what party would be complete without it? The keg was sat right beside Tolman Cotton, or rather he beside it, and there wasn’t a hobbit that passed by that wasn’t urged to have just another half-pint. Surely it wasn’t every day that you had a Took as your guest of honor.
And indeed, those guests from Hobbiton, a rather goodly crowd, shook their heads at the sheer extravagance of it all, and declared that they couldn’t remember such a glorious party that hadn’t been occasioned by either a wedding, a birthday, or the harvest. But Tolman had joined forces with May Gamgee, and that combination was undeniably a formidable one.
Of course, Pearl Took had turned out to be a delightful addition to the festivities. Daisy had summoned her sister to assist in adorning Pearl’s tall, spare form. May, thrilled by the challenge, rose to the occasion, just as Daisy had fully expected. Using a combination of Daisy’s meager wardrobe, for she and Pearl were close in height and frame, and what was salvageable of Pearl’s own, with the addition of whatever adornments May herself could provide, she set to her task. And when she was through, Pearl was indeed a unique and enchanting vision, with her abundant red curls and unusual green eyes set off just so. May had been quite pleased, with just cause, of her handiwork, and even Pearl herself had to acknowledge the results were really rather amazing. Daisy kept quiet, but her eyes shone in delight at Pearl’s transformation.
But it was far more than just Pearl’s appearance that brought such pleasure to the festivities, for it was the talk of Hobbiton for many a month afterward what a charming and unassuming lass she was, for all she was a gentle-hobbit of perhaps the most venerable family in all of the Shire. For she danced every dance, and didn’t leave a single lad out. From Nibs Cotton, who was blushing so violently throughout the entire reel that he was a perfect match for her flaming curls, to Gaffer Gamgee himself, who, protesting heartily, was dragged into the dance by his two giggling younger daughters, but who stayed dancing until they finally had to intervene again, this time with a bit of concern for his stamina, she was the center of it all.
Daisy sat on a bench under the elms to the back of the field, and watched, with a fond smile on her face. She hummed the dance tunes quietly to herself, and felt the pleasant cool evening breeze upon her face, and felt happier than she could ever remember.
But the evening finally came to an end, as all good things must, and when the bowls and the plates upon the great wooden table were finally starting to look somewhat sparse, and the beer had been nearly drained from the kegs, the friends and neighbors eventually began to pay their respects and leave. The night had been a wonderful and glorious one, but there was the summer planting on the morrow, and the seedlings would not wait.
Daisy slipped back into the kitchen to help with the washing up, but when Pearl, who had been standing between Tolman and the gaffer, had bid farewell to the last guest, she laid down the towel and offered to walk Pearl back to Bag End.
The night was warm and fragrant, and the white moths flew all about the small lantern that Daisy held to light their way back. Pearl tucked her arm under Daisy’s, as soon as they were out of sight of the others, and Daisy clasped her hand quite tightly. Had it only been a day since they had spent the afternoon in the field above Bag End? Daisy’s heart and mind were still full of memories, of their shared revelations, of those hesitant, sweet kisses that they had exchanged.
A quiet, rational corner of her mind reminded her that Frodo and Sam would surely be returning any day soon, and Pearl would go, and vanish from her mundane life as suddenly as she had appeared, but Daisy firmly turned those thoughts away, and fell to dreaming that it was Pearl who lived in Bag End, and that what had started between them would not be ending any time soon. How often she was reminded of Sam now, and how well she began to understand her brother’s heart.
Pearl was silent as they walked through the fields that separated the Cotton farm and Bag End, her previous gaiety gone from her. They had reached the back garden, under the jasmine vine that was fragrantly glimmering in the warm night air, when she finally stopped, and turning to Daisy, clasped her shoulders tightly. “We don’t have much time,” she said in a low voice, “Frodo will be back any day.”
Daisy nodded mutely, the lantern held to one side, but her other hand reaching up to encircle Pearl’s waist.
“Will you stay with me?” Pearl whispered, carefully searching Daisy’s eyes in the faint circle of illumination that surrounded the two of them.
Daisy swallowed. “My Da will be waitin’ for me, as will my sister,” she finally answered, in a voice heavy with regret.
Pearl looked down and nodded, but did not let go of Daisy.
With a choked sound, nearly a sob, Daisy suddenly reached up to Pearl’s face with her free hand, and brought her mouth to Pearl’s in a sudden fierce kiss. Then Pearl was left standing, the lantern thrust into her hand, and Daisy was gone in the dark night.
*****
Frodo woke slowly, feeling warm and so very languid. He was in a familiar bed, in a room that had been achingly well-known, but the loving presence close against his side, in the narrow bed that was meant only for one, would ever be new to him. With a tender smile, he opened his eyes to gaze upon the dear face that was, eyes closed and breath regular in sleep, lying next to his. The golden curls, strewn over the tanned face, caught at the morning sun as it shone through the opened window, and the slightly snubbed nose, with its light dusting of freckles, the luxurious light brown lashes upon the faintly reddened cheeks, and the perfectly bowed mouth, well, it all delighted Frodo more than he ever could have said, as he fondly gazed on Sam. How he had ever made his way through day after dreary day without this great gift of love that he had been given, he would never know. Sam sighed slightly as Frodo watched, still asleep, but his arm, which was wrapped around Frodo’s waist, tightened just a bit. He was waking now, and Frodo leaned forward to fondly, lightly, kiss him awake.
“Good morning, Sam, my love,” he whispered, as Sam’s eyes sleepily flickered open. Lifting his hand, he ran it tenderly through his mussed hair. “Time for us to be going home, I think.”
Sam’s drowsy smile was response enough. He snuggled his face into the crook of Frodo’s neck and kissed it lingeringly.
“Ah, don’t you start on me, now,” Frodo laughed at that, hugging Sam tightly. “They begin breakfast early here, you know.” Sam gave a chuckle then, and with his face still buried, stretched luxuriously out against Frodo.
“Sam!” Frodo cried out happily at Sam’s tease, and sat up as abruptly as he could with Sam’s weight still partially on him.
“Ah, well, then,” Sam gave a mock sigh of disappointment as he sat up as well, “guess I’d have to be content with just breakfast, then.”
“Just wait until we’re back at Bag End, my dear,” Frodo kissed the tip of his nose lightly, “and I promise you a whole day in bed anytime you like.”
“Aye, we’d best be gettin’ on the road than,” Sam chuckled, swinging his legs around to the floor.
It wasn’t until Frodo flung the light blanket aside that he was struck with a sudden disquieting thought. “Our clothes,” he muttered, turning to Sam in alarm. “Someone’s probably picked them up by now.”
But Sam did not seem in the least perturbed, in fact, he grinned in a rather pleased manner. “On the chair,” he waved airily to the plain wooden chair in the corner where, indeed, Frodo could now see his jacket and shirt neatly folded, with Sam’s jacket underneath.
“Oh, Sam, you are too clever,” Frodo exclaimed admiringly, dressing quickly. “Whenever did you get them?”
“Last night,” Sam explained, still grinning. “Woke up in the middle of the night, thinkin’ about them.”
“Why, I never knew you were gone,” Frodo said in surprise.
“Didn’t think so,” Sam replied, a trifle smugly, as he drew on his jacket. “You were that tired, to be sure. Snoring right fine, you still were, when I got back.”
“Snoring!” Frodo exclaimed, indignantly. “Why, I never do!”
Sam laughed at that. “Sometimes you do, me dear. But I love it. And you.” With that, he threw an arm around Frodo’s shoulders and kissed him soundly. “Breakfast sounds fine at that. And don’t you be forgettin’ your promise, Frodo Baggins.”
“Never,” Frodo assured him, warmly, just before he found his mouth again. “You have my word on it, Sam.”
*****
First breakfast was normally a rather scattered affair at Brandy Hall, since some family members were up and about earlier than others, and Frodo was not surprised to see just Saradoc and Paladin, standing by the breakfast table but gazing out of the large window to the fields beyond, as he and Sam entered. They stood with a plate in hand each, absently eating sausage and tomatoes, as they discussed the affairs of the Brandybuck lands and Tuckburough. Frodo and Sam had already agreed that Sam would find Halstad in the pastures, and wait for Frodo there, giving Frodo the opportunity to find Merry and Pippin and have a quick word with them before he left. Frodo had hoped to give Sam some food to take with him, but he had not counted upon his uncles being here alone in the dining hall.
They both had turned around as Frodo and Sam had entered, and before Sam could duck quickly out again, Saradoc broke off his conversation with Paladin and strode towards them, his brother-in-law in tow. “Samwise Gamgee?” he asked with a smile, holding a hand out to Sam.
“Aye, if you please, sir,” answered Sam, caught off guard, but hesitantly grasping the pro-offered hand, as his face instantly reddened.
“No chance to have a word with you last night, what with that mob that generally shows up for dinner,” Saradoc mentioned with a chuckle, “but I’m right glad to see you here, lad. Frodo, here, tells me you’re Hamfast Gamgee’s son?”
“Aye, sir, that’d be the truth,” Sam ducked his head in acknowledgement as Frodo stood beside him, watching his uncle in surprise.
“Well, a fine hobbit he is, to be sure. Bilbo brought him by many a time, and my gardeners would still be thanking him for some of his advice. Right nice to be seeing you here, lad, and be sure you bring your father with you the next time you come. I’d dearly love to have a word with him again, for all Bilbo’s taken off to parts unknown.”
“Thank you kindly, Mr. Saradoc,” Sam replied politely, even if he was still a bit taken aback by the Master of Brandy Hall’s warm reception.
“Now, I mean that, lad,” Saradoc added with a mock stern tone, but a kindly smile. “Well, I won’t be keeping you, then.”
Sam gave a grateful quick nod, and turned to Frodo. “I won’t be long, Sam,” Frodo gave him a warm smile, and Sam quickly left.
Frodo turned uncertainly toward Saradoc as Sam left, but the elder hobbit gave him a suddenly serious look. “You could be doing far worse that that, Frodo,” he said quietly, giving Frodo an unnervingly direct gaze. “And I hope you’ll keep coming around, for Merry’s sake.”
“Aunt Esme’d just as soon that I wouldn’t,” Frodo stated, uncertainly.
“Well, I’d just as soon that you did,” Saradoc stated firmly, in a voice that allowed no opposition. “Merry needs you, Frodo. Don’t be a stranger here.”
“Pippin as well,” Paladin added softly at that, standing quietly behind Saradoc. “You mean a great deal to both of them, Frodo, and don’t you be forgetting that.”
*****
Sam knew where the dining hall for the rest of the inhabitants of Brandy Hall was from his previous visit last Yuletide, and hoping to pick up a bit of breakfast before he went in search of Halstad, he thought to stop by there first. With as many hobbits as came and went on this great estate, he had hopes of slipping in and out unnoticed.
And he almost did. But as he re-entered the courtyard, biting into a ripe peach, with an apple and wedge of bread safely in his pocket, Merry was standing on the path to the stables, arms crossed over his chest, watching him with an unreadable expression. Sam swallowed the bite of peach unconsciously, and stood still, the juice from the peach dripping down onto the scuffed dirt about his feet. Then Merry gave a slight tip of his head, and turning, walked up the stable path away from the courtyard. With a sinking feeling, Sam followed, trying to finish the peach as he walked, and wishing he had chosen a less messy fruit.
The cool shadowy stable, with its high raftered roof, was empty of hobbits this time of day, all of them being at second breakfast by now. The ponies moved restlessly in their stalls, anticipating being let out into the fields as soon as the dew had dried from the grass. Merry found a bundle of hay from the stack on the back against the wall, and motioned silently to Sam, who was still hesitantly following, indicating another twine-bound stack. Sam would have preferred to stay standing, but sat as he was directed.
Merry had plucked a piece of straw from the ground and was running it moodily through his long fingers when he finally spoke. ”I wanted, well, I really needed to…” he muttered, staring still at the straw, but then he lifted his head, and with a certain set to his jaw, stared bravely at Sam. “I’m sorry, Sam. I really have been treating you and Frodo badly, and especially you.”
Sam stared at him, his nervousness suddenly gone. “I’m sorry, too,” he answered quietly. “It must be that hard.”
Merry swallowed suddenly at that and quickly stood up, turning his back to Sam. “You have no idea,” Sam heard him say, in a choked tone.
Sam stared sightlessly down at his feet. “How many o’those as we love have we hurt,” he murmured suddenly, and it was not a question.
Merry twisted quickly around at that, and stared at Sam intently. “You can’t be regretting it, though,” he said finally.
Sam looked up swiftly at that, and the pain was evident in his eyes, even to an reluctant Merry. “What we’ve done? Never,” Sam said softly. “But hurtin’ those as love us? More‘n I can say.”
Merry said nothing at that, but gazed upon Sam as if he had, for the first time, really seen him. “Don’t regret it,” he said abruptly. “Never regret it. I’ve seen Frodo’s face when he looks at you, when he thinks that no one else sees him. I can’t tell you how much I would have given to have had him look at me like that, but he never will. He’s chosen, Sam, and it’s you. Never, never regret that he’s made that choice.”
Sam looked at him steadily. “T’would never happen,” he stated firmly, his eyes holding Merry’s. “My heart’d be his, an’ my life’d be but to follow him.”
Merry held his gaze but a moment more until a slow, almost unwilling smile stole across his face. “Frodo chose well,” he stated softly, and with a quick clasp of his hand to Sam’s shoulder, left the stable.
*****
It was the laughter that caught Frodo’s ear, as he rounded the hill. Clear and free, and immediately recognizable. As he walked about the bend, into the upper pasture, his eyes fell immediately upon Halstad and a couple other of the herders, leaning upon their staffs and laughing heartily, and in the middle of them all, was Sam, with his face alight and smiling. But that was nothing to the warm glance he gave Frodo, when he turned around and noticed Frodo, quietly standing under the shadow of the oak. And all of a sudden, there was no one else in Sam’s eyes, and his smile was all at once for Frodo alone.
Frodo strode forward at that, joy unexpectedly surging up in his heart that they were finally on their way home. It suddenly seemed forever since they had had a quiet supper in the cozy kitchen of Bag End, since they had spent a tranquil evening, with book in hand, in front of the evening blaze in the study, since they had lain in their feather bed and made love far into the night, and oh, but Sam was home and Sam was love, and all he’d ever wanted.
Sam had seen Frodo’s expression, and had read it true, and waited, quietly but impatiently, by the oak as Frodo thanked Halstad for his assistance and bade him farewell. And as soon as they were out of sight, on the road to the river, Frodo had Sam against a tree, and Sam’s voice was sighing in his ear, and it was hard, very hard, to pull away from each other, and head back to the cave where they had left their packs the day before.
*****
As they turned the bend in the rush road, though, where the hidden path up to the cave lay, it was immediately obvious that they were not to be continuing their journey alone. Pippin and Merry were sitting cross-legged by the side of the road, and Sam immediately spotted his and Frodo’s packs at Pippin’s side.
“Oh, there you two are,” Pippin withdrew the pipe from his mouth and waved cheerfully. “I’d been telling Merry that he really needs to get away for a bit of a holiday, and he finally caved in. So here we all are, then,” he beamed.
Frodo stopped and eyed his cousins skeptically. “Isn’t this how it all started anyway, Pip?”
“No, no, Frodo.” Pippin stood up and shook off the stray bits of reed. Patiently, he explained. “This time we asked. Well, maybe not so much as asked, but we did mention it. At least, rather put the idea in their heads.” He paused at that, and then added thoughtfully, “Well, I think they know where we went…”
Merry stood up quietly next to him, and added, in a rather reserved voice, giving Frodo a diffident look, “Of course, only if you don’t mind…”
But Frodo immediately strode over to him and wrapped his older cousin in a warm hug. “Mind? Of course not, my dearest.” And he turned to Sam, with his arms still tight around Merry. “What do you say, Sam? Should we let these rascals tag along?” he asked, glancing over to him.
“T’would be a pleasure, an’ sure it would,” Sam responded, with a warm smile, as Pippin continued to beam at Merry’s side, which seemed to settle the matter.
*****
They had crossed the Brandywine by way of the bridge this time, and were a bit beyond the wide river, when the evening fog rolled in. The weather could be a bit tricky, in early summer, and the warmest of days was often followed by a damp and chilly night. Such was the case on this evening. There would be no rain, but the river fog was heavy and by mid-afternoon, already held the banks in a thick white mist.
“Not much use trying to make our way any farther today, I think,” Frodo, walking in the front with Merry, stopped and looked ahead thoughtfully. “We may already be off the path, it’s hard to tell.”
Merry nodded. “It’ll be easier to take a look about come morning,” he agreed. “I noticed a couple of fallen logs just back a bit. That might be a good spot to make camp.”
“Right then,” Frodo turned back to the other two, who had fallen back slightly, chatting and laughingly discussing the tribulations of being raised by sisters. Sam remembered the spot that Merry had mentioned, and they quickly returned to it, gathering likely firewood as they went.
And in no time at all, the campfire was made, and had begun to cheerily flame, and Sam had the kettle on for tea. With a rather unusual amount of foresight, Pippin had thought to have Cook pack a bag or two for them, so Sam soon had a thick soup of vegetables and sausage, with bits of herbs bubbling merrily away, and they began to toast some bread and cheese for tea. Enclosed in their cozy circle of light and warmth in the darkening damp dusk that surrounded them, it did not take the four hobbits long to forget entirely the world about them.
Merry had been somewhat quiet and subdued initially, but the effect of Frodo’s and Pippin’s easy conversation soon began to soothe him, and before they had begun on the soup, he was far more relaxed and outgoing. Sam quietly busied himself in the details of dinner, but Frodo sat quite close to him, and on several occasions during the evening, met Sam’s hand with his own for a quick tight grasp, a matter not commented on in the least by the other two.
Pippin was saving his crowning achievement for afters, however, for no sooner had the soup kettle been rather thoroughly emptied of soup, leaving its eventual cleaning up merely a formality, than Pippin triumphantly produced a flask of the finest eponymous brandy from the Hall. Merry whistled at that, his eyes gleaming. “That, my dear Pip,” he pronounced solemnly, “is surely the result of a feat of amazing skill. Because I know that my father does not allow that to leave the doors of Brandy Hall willingly.”
“It would be best to hope that he does not visit the farther corners of the wine cellar in the near future,” Pippin agreed delicately, “for I would hate to see suspicion fall on such lads of tender years as ourselves.”
“You young scamp!” laughed Frodo in delight, reaching out for the precious vial, “I am most impressed. I’ve only tasted a small glass, on the most solemn of occasions, and yet look. A whole flask! Indeed, Peregrin Took, you seem to have found your calling in life.”
Pippin grinned, quite pleased with himself. “They never suspect the young ones,” he confided, happily.
“A mistake we’d never make,” Frodo chuckled, carefully pouring a few inches into the three mugs held out towards him, as well as his own. “But your reputation is safe with us, Pip.”
The coils of white chilled mist crept past the fire’s circle, but the four within, warmed by not only the flames and the fiery liquid, but by each other’s company, laughed and chatted, and drank, far into the night.
*****
Sam awoke later in the evening. The fire had burnt quite low, but he was feeling warm and very comfortable. Gradually, he realized that the later was due to the fact that his head was cradled in Frodo’s lap, and one of Frodo’s hands was draped rather securely around his shoulder. Something was at the waking edge of his consciousness, but for the moment, he was content with the feel of Frodo’s hand holding him close, and the warmth of Frodo’s legs against his cheek.
But then he slowly realized what had awoken him. There was an indescribable sound far off, barely distinguishable, and like nothing he’d ever heard before. Carefully, he raised his head, not wishing to disturb Frodo, whose steady breathing confirmed the fact that he was asleep. But he was consumed with curiosity. It was like song, yet like no voice that he had ever heard, only barely audible, like the memory of a melody from years gone by, perhaps something his mother had once sung to him.
Carefully, he eased from Frodo’s loose grasp, glancing back at Frodo, who had been sitting with his back against one of the fallen logs. But Frodo’s eyes had opened and in the dim light of the dying fire, he was staring back at Sam.
“Listen,” Sam breathed. “D’ye hear that?”
Frodo nodded dumbly, and, as of one mind, they silently rose to their feet. Merry and Pippin were still fast asleep, fallen together in a rather complex knot, and breathing in concert with light harmonic snores.
To their surprise, as they stepped away from the circle of firelight, the heavy fog of earlier that evening had dissipated, and they could make out their way by the light of the half moon above. Stealthily, they slipped into the woods, and now it seemed as though they heard faint laughter as well, and there appeared to be, far ahead, the ghost of a glimmering light. Silently, they approached, with unknowingly clasped hands, when there was a sudden sharply amused murmur, and a flurry of silvery lights, and the feel of a breath passing by them, and the woods were suddenly dark and silent about them again.
But there was no doubt in either of their minds as to what they had almost seen. “Elves,” Sam whispered, and in the moonlight, Frodo could still see the awe and wonder on his face.
“Yes,” he answered, in just as hushed a voice, “I believe so.”
Sam’s hand was still caught up tightly in Frodo’s, and Frodo was suddenly struck by the yearning he saw on those well-loved features. “D‘ye ever think we‘d be seein‘ them, one of these days?” Sam turned to Frodo, wistfully.
“Of course, Sam dearest,” Frodo smiled back tenderly. “One of these days we’ll go look for elves. Just the two of us, Sam. And maybe we’ll come back, and maybe we’ll stay gone, just like Bilbo. But we’ll see them together, you and I.”
“Ah,” sighed Sam happily, “that would be right fine, that would. As long as we’d be together, me dear.” Raising up his hand to the side of Frodo’s face, he lifted his mouth to Frodo’s and kissed him slowly and most thoroughly. Frodo gave a murmur of appreciation as his arms found themselves tightly around Sam.
They did not make their way back to camp until the glowing moon had nearly set.
*****
Pippin was unlike his normal cheerful self the next morning, and wondered, rather crossly, why everyone felt the need to shout so. Merry, looking rather stoic himself, gave a faint smile at that. “Cold water helps, Pip,” he muttered, rising slowly and cautiously to his feet, and holding out a hand to the youngest hobbit, who was gingerly rubbing his temples, and not appearing interested, in the least, in the breakfast that Sam was serenely preparing. Pippin allowed himself to be hauled up, and gave a few uncertain steps, his face suddenly revealing that that might not have been the wisest of moves. “All right, then,” Merry quickly threw a supporting arm around him. “This way, Pip,” and with a certain amount of hastiness, hustled the unfortunate Pippin from the campground.
“Would he be all right, then?” Sam looked after the departing pair with some concern, as he turned over the bacon frying in the pan.
“Oh, they’ll be fine,” Frodo chuckled. “Young stomachs. Lack of practice. You seemed to handle it quite well, though,” he grinned at Sam with a raised eyebrow.
“Well, I’d have grown up on the gaffer’s home brew,” Sam said placidly, flipping the bacon once more. “I’d bet even Marigold could drink those two down, any day.”
“And why have I never had the pleasure of tasting this fine brew?” Frodo raised the other eyebrow as well at that.
“I expect the gaffer thought it a bit rough for the fine stomachs of gentle-hobbits.” Sam dexterously flipped the bacon next to the toast and tomatoes on the waiting plate, and passed it to Frodo.
“But not too strong for young lads and lasses?” Frodo asked skeptically, placing a couple of pieces of bacon over a piece of toast and biting into it with relish.
“Ah, but we’d be Gamgees, now,” Sam chuckled, adding a tomato to his piece of toast and throwing three slices of bacon over the top. “Just as well I didn’t fry the whole lot,” he added philosophically. “Looks as though the other two won’t be joinin’ us.”
*****
Pippin and Merry seemed recovered enough when they returned later that morning, and the four continued on. The next couple of days passed in a pleasant blur of walking, swimming in any stream that they passed, stopping as often for a meal as their supplies would allow, and spending congenial evenings about the fire. But all too soon, the path through the woods met up with the main road between Hobbiton and Buckland, and it was time for Merry and Pippin to be turning back. They had stopped for elevensies not far from the road, and Frodo took the opportunity, as Pippin helped Sam pack up, to take Merry by the hand and lead him away from the path, to a small stand of young sycamores in a sunny grassy clearing. Merry followed, not unwillingly, and with his hand tight around Frodo’s, but his face was quiet and closed off.
He turned toward Frodo, his face dappled with light under the young bright green leaves, and reached for Frodo’s other hand as well, his eyes cast downwards at Frodo’s pale nail-bitten fingers within his long strong ones. Frodo stayed silent, knowing that Merry was collecting himself, and giving him time.
At last Merry looked up, staring resolutely into Frodo’s concerned eyes. “I’m won’t say it isn’t hard,” he said softly, his voice catching slightly. But he cleared his throat a bit then, and continued, his voice gaining strength, and his jaw setting in a manner that was so familiar to Frodo that a pang shot involuntarily through him as he watched his cousin, “but it wasn’t right of me to assume. To think that you must feel as I did. To forget that you’ve been away for years, that you’ve found someone to love, someone who obviously loves you more than anything. To regret that you’re so happy. I’m sorry, Frodo. It wasn’t right of me at all.”
“Merry,” Frodo whispered, his eyes welling with tears at Merry’s words. Slowly, he lifted his hand to Merry’s cheek, cupping it gently. “You’ll always be my dearest cousin. You’ll always be that loving heart who gave me reassurance and strength, when I needed it so desperately. You were all I had to love, and you were all I needed. I would have given anything not to hurt you as I have done.”
“I know, Frodo dearest,” Merry said quietly, his mouth quirking up in a rueful smile that was so very well-known to Frodo, his own hand coming up to rest over Frodo’s. “You always looked out for me, didn’t you. And still do.”
Frodo gulped at that, tears starting to spill unbidden down his cheeks. “That’s all right, Frodo,” Merry whispered in a quavering voice, tightly embracing Frodo, and burying his face against Frodo’s shoulder. “That’s all right, my dearest. I could never stop loving you, you know.”
Sam and Pippin sat side by side on the side of the road, waiting for the other two. Conversation had been somewhat intermittent and distracted when Sam turned suddenly to Pippin and gazing at him worriedly, said, rather shyly, “The two of you’d still be comin’ to see Frodo, now, wouldn’t you? Just because I’d be livin’ at Bag End too, I hope that wouldn’t mean you or Merry’d feel any different…” His voice trailed off, and gathering himself, he added bravely, “Frodo still misses you both, I know he does. You’d be all the family he’s got.”
Pippin turned to him and, regarding him warmly, with an understanding beyond his years, said quietly, “Don’t you be worrying, Sam. Merry will come around, he loves Frodo far too much not to. We’ll be on your doorstep before you know it. Never you fear, Sam dear, Frodo hasn’t lost anything by falling in love with you. Ah,” he glanced up, with a bright smile on his face, “here they are.”
******
It was the last leg of the journey, the last few miles before Frodo and Sam came to the outskirts of Hobbiton, and ahead, Bag End. And as much as they were both looking forward to being home, yet there was a certain reluctance in returning. It was early afternoon, the sun was yet high overhead, and if they had pressed steadily onward, they could have been at Bag End before nightfall. Yet both Sam and Frodo found themselves in no hurry to do that. The path through the woods was theirs alone, and the afternoon was warm and ripe. It would be mid-summer in a day, and the light would linger on, far into the evening. Frodo paused, under the oak, knowing that the trees would be soon growing smaller from here, and that the fields were not far away. Suddenly, he knew not why, he could not stand the idea of being under a roof with Sam tonight. It was under the open sky where he wished to be, just he and Sam alone, as they had not been since they had set off from Bag End with Pippin, weeks ago.
Without a word of explanation, he grasped Sam’s hand and pulled him along, from the worn path, pushing through the bush that grew at the side of the dusty road, and into the thicket of oak and gorse. The bushes scratched and held firm, but Frodo pushed blindly against them, a willing Sam following. Finally the oak gave way to pine, and the pine to cedar, and the ground swelled up in a hill, and at the top, there was a bare grassy round, where the sun shone down uninterrupted, and the light breeze was welcome on their faces.
With a small sigh, Frodo dropped the pack from his shoulders, and spun around to Sam with a smile. Sam followed suit readily enough, and stepping up to Frodo, placed his hands on Frodo’s shoulders and said softly, “So you’d not be wishin’ your feather bed tonight, me dear?”
Frodo laughed happily, his hands coming to rest on Sam’s waist. “How can you read me so well, Sam dear?” he murmured, his hands slowly running down Sam’s hips and around the back.
“Practice, me dear,” Sam chuckled, drawing Frodo to him, his hands around his waist. “Practice. But never enough, love.” And with that, his mouth was on Frodo’s, hot and demanding, his tongue forcing its way past Frodo’s lips, not that Frodo was resisting, oh, no, not at all. And with a hungry moan, his mouth opened eagerly up to Sam’s, and his eyes closed with the sweet yearning for Sam, for his lips, his tongue, for his strong arms around him, for his inflaming touch, for the feel of him without end.
And his hands, oh, there was no way he could have kept them off of Sam, for they had to feel that sweet warm flesh at all costs. So they grasped breathlessly at Sam’s shirt, yanking it with a quick movement from his trousers, and hungrily ran slowly, unhurriedly, up his sides. Sam gave a choked gasp at that, and instantly reached for the buttons of Frodo’s shirt. Feverishly, they were undone, and with a quick tug, the shirt and jacket flew off his shoulders and Sam’s hands were on him, warm and insistent, stroking, caressing, inflaming his senses, making him crave more and more.
“Ah, Frodo, oh, Frodo,” moaned Sam, reaching for his own trousers and hurriedly unfastening them. And then Frodo felt his hand being grasped hastily by Sam, and guided blindly through the opened fabric, and then he lurched forward against Frodo as Frodo’s hand closed about him, hot, smooth, and he blindly thrust himself up against Frodo’s palm.
“Sam,” whispered Frodo passionately, awkwardly reaching for his own trousers with his left hand and hurriedly unfastening them as well. Shoving them off of him as best as he could, they pooled about his ankles, as he enclosed Sam’s closest thigh between his legs, and desperately ground himself hard against Sam, gasping with the feel of that firm flesh between his suddenly shaky knees, against that part of himself that cried out for more, and harder, and faster, and oh, just more, more.
Then his hand closed tightly around Sam, and pulled upward sharply, as Sam gave a wordless cry, his legs buckling under him. Down Sam went, Frodo following, and now he was stretched over Sam, and Sam was writhing under him, clutching at Frodo’s backside with all his strength, and thrusting himself up against Frodo, over and over.
“Sam!” gasped Frodo, braced up by only one hand, the other still on Sam, feeling his hips start to thrust rhythmically against Sam, again and again, “Oh, my Sam, my Sam.”
“Frodo,” Sam moaned in response, grinding himself up against Frodo with all his might, panting and arching his back desperately up. “Harder, Frodo, harder!” And Frodo obeyed, increasing the pace until he felt himself moistening, and Sam, within his hand, was not going to wait much longer. Down he thrust, one last time, tightening his grip on Sam almost painfully, and feeling Sam’s fingers dig desperately into his buttocks, as Sam arched up and gave a wild cry.
And then the release swept through him, sweet beyond belief, flooding through him, and pouring onto Sam’s stomach, and joining with his as well. They collapsed, Frodo heavily on top of Sam, and both lay there panting. But even though Frodo’s physical need had abated for the moment, his emotional one had not. “I love you, Sam,” he whispered passionately, holding tightly onto him. “Oh, how I love you.”
Sam gazed up at him, his golden curls radiant in the sunlight, lighting his face, and his hazel eyes shone brightly with unabashed adoration. “You’re everything, Frodo,” he whispered. “You’re everything to me.”
*****
Sam was quite surprised, when they reached Bag End early the next morning, that the smial had had a resident the entire time they were gone, but Frodo was not. The unpredictable nature of Tooks was all too familiar to him, and he laughed and told Pearl that he hoped she had a pleasant stay in this quiet, forgotten corner of the Shire.
She smiled at that, but said nothing. Frodo gave a condensed version of their journey, and politely offered her the guest room as long as she wished. But Pearl shook her head at that, and said that she wouldn’t dream of imposing on them, after such a trip, and that she would stay with friends in Hobbiton for the night, and find a wagon bound for Tuckborough the next day. It didn’t take long for her to pack up the few items that she had brought with her, and tidy up the room she’d been using, but before doing so, she had asked Sam, in an uncharacteristically shy manner, if he wouldn’t mind letting his sister Daisy know, and that perhaps she might walk with her into Hobbiton.
Sam did wonder at that, but left off unpacking his and Frodo’s packs, and headed down to Number Three. Daisy was in the back yard, as she generally was this time of the morning, hard at work, her hands deep in the steaming tub of laundry. She looked up at Sam with a smile at first, but then an odd expression crossed her face, and when Sam conveyed his message, she gasped, upsetting the tub. With no attempt to put it right, she quickly fled, her wet hands to her face, up the hill toward Bag End. Sam, concerned and amazed, carefully picked up the tub and clothes from where they had spilled on the ground, shook out the garments that had landed in the dirt, and plunged them back into the bucket of rinse water. Then he started up the hill after his sister.
Pearl had already left Frodo and Bag End, and was waiting for Daisy a little down the road. When Daisy ran up, tears streaming down her face, Pearl grasped her arm and urgently whispered, “The back road, Daisy. Show me.”
Daisy nodded, still without words, and led her to the back road to Hobbiton, away from all the other travelers. It was only then, in the leafy shade beside the little-used path, that she could turn towards Pearl and feel Pearl’s arms enclose her, and Pearl’s voice, on the verge of tears herself, whisper comfort to her.
Finally Daisy brought her head up and stared hopelessly at Pearl. “I should have stayed that night, Pearl, I wish I had.”
Pearl shook her head, tears on her own face but with a rueful smile, “No, Daisy. You weren’t ready for that, and to tell the truth, neither was I. ‘Tis best we didn’t.” She stretched out her hand at that, gently stroking Daisy’s face, and her eyes fell on the red mark, still vivid on her milky skin, of the burn she had received the first day at Bag End.
“Look, Daisy,” she said gently, holding out her wrist, “I’ll always remember you by this.”
“There’d be a mark on me, likewise,” choked out Daisy, staring desperately into Pearl’s eyes. “An’ it’ll always be there, no matter that none can see it.”
A look of determination came to Pearl’s face at that, and she gazed back at Daisy, almost sternly. “Then ‘tis not over,” she murmured with resolve. “There’ll be a way for us, Daisy Gamgee. If you’re willing for it to be so.”
“Oh, I am, I am,” Daisy cried out wildly, before her mouth found Pearl’s.
*****
Gandalf showed up at the round green door of Bag End only a few days later, unexpectedly, of course, as wizards are wont to do. It was tea time, and Frodo, happy indeed to see him, greeted him warmly. It took no time at all, of course, for Gandalf to surmise the changes at Bag End, and with many a deep chuckle, and shake of his head, to allow that hobbits were ever an unpredictable lot, but he was glad to hear of it, he truly was. Frodo asked after Bilbo, of course, and Gandalf informed him that Bilbo was, indeed, staying with the elves and seemed quite content.
It wasn’t until after dinner, that Gandalf asked after the ring of Bilbo’s, and Frodo had to stop for a moment and think of where it had ended up. Eventually he remembered it had been left in the great chest in the entrance hall, under a rather odd collection of stray items left behind by various visitors. After he fetched it for Gandalf, he watched curiously as the wizard held it up to the firelight and examined it carefully. Sam had been clearing off the dishes, and a contented occasional drift of song could be now and again heard, coming down the hall from the kitchen, above the dishwater splashes.
“Does Bilbo want it back?” Frodo asked with polite curiosity. “He’s welcome to it, you know. I’ve had no need for it.”
“No, no, I think not,” Gandalf answered absently, examining the artifact with scrupulous care. “No, I rather think it’s best off here.”
Placing it quickly back in the case in which Frodo had found it, he gave Frodo another warm smile. “Duty calls, my dear hobbit, and I must be off again. Take good care of that Sam of yours, now, and don’t use that trinket, Frodo, there’s a good lad. I’ll be back before you know it.” Frodo affectionately returned the embrace of the towering wizard, and Gandalf was gone again, as if he’d never been there.
Frodo stood at the green door, staring out into the dark night, suddenly piqued by inquisitiveness about Bilbo’s ring, which he had entirely forgotten until now. Bilbo had always carried it about, and it did seem to be a rather handy item to have in a pinch. Odd, he reflected suddenly, but he realized that he had never told Sam about it.
But then he heard Sam’s voice, calling him excitedly from the back of the smial. Carelessly, he tossed the ring in its case back into the chest, and slammed the lid tight, thinking no more of it. Running down the hall, he burst into the kitchen to find Sam at the kitchen door, impatiently waiting for him, with a broad smile on his face.
“Frodo, Frodo,” he gasped. “Come quick!” He reached out and grasped Frodo’s hand tightly, pulling him through the kitchen door out into the dark night.
Frodo followed, and following Sam’s gaze, looked up into the dark night sky and gave a cry of wonder. The black sky was alight with the shimmer of shooting stars, sparkling, dazzling, raining down on the two hobbits in a radiant glory. Close together, they stood in the kitchen garden, arms around each other, and staring up into the amazing sight in awe.
And then Sam gave a gleeful laugh, and grabbing Frodo’s hand, ran, in the dark, up the back path to the field above Bag End. Frodo ran behind him, and when they reached the top, looked wonderingly at this loving spirit that had so captured him. Sam lifted his face to the silvery lights in the sky, laughing with joy, his young face alight in the starry glow of the night. And Frodo, his heart so full of delight that there was nothing that he could say, clasped Sam about the waist, and spun him around under the stars.
*****
Below the ring waited, patiently. There was nothing it could offer Frodo now.
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You described love, friendiship, passion , family in such an amazing way!
The bond between Sam and Frodo, their relationship was realistic powerful and touching!
And I also enjoyed the story between Pearl and Deisy!
Wonderful!
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And especially for the realistic part (at least as much as hobbits can be!) because I think that that's so important.
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*the Day of the Lame feedback has begun*
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No such thing as lame feedback, m'dear. Trust me on that.
Thanks, and I'm glad the ending worked.
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Lovely, dear, enjoyed this series so very much!! *glomps*
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And hee! Of course, Gamgees are irresistible. Although the gaffer has to be wondering if there's something in the water, some sort of explanation for the tendency of his kids to, well, you know. Heh.
Thanks again!
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It's uploaded and I hope that's the pic you were talking about. You know the drill. :D
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Compulsive, that's what I am. OK, obsessive, I admit it.
A one-parter coming up pretty soon, further ahead in this series, and then back to a longer one.
And of course, so many thanks.
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And thanks on the femslash thing. I don't know how brave I'm gonna be on this - amazingly enough, it's harder to write than regular slash. But I guess we'll see...
And thanks for the rec, too! *beams*
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I loved all the interactions and voices, but Merry caught me by surprise! I always think of him as cocky and confident, but he was oddly vulnerable and sympathetic here and I loved that take on his character. Thank you for sharing! :-)
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Thanks again!
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I just printed it out to read. And it's 40 pages long.
Excellent. *goes off to read*
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So the whole thing would be like 200 pages?
Groovy.
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I like the (delayed) instant gratification of having the whole story all at once.
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Hi Elderberry
I loved this finish to a wonderful series: Frodo spinning Sam around under the stars, Daisy and Pearl's kiss, and Merry and Pippin on the road to finding their love. I love your lovemaking scenes between Frodo and Sam and this one is hot and intense, as usual. Beautiful.
>>With a small sigh, Frodo dropped the pack from his shoulders, and spun around to Sam with a smile. Sam followed suit readily enough, and stepping up to Frodo, placed his hands on Frodo’s shoulders and said softly, “So you’d not be wishin’ your feather bed tonight, me dear?”
Frodo laughed happily, his hands coming to rest on Sam’s waist. “How can you read me so well, Sam dear?” he murmured, his hands slowly running down Sam’s hips and around the back.
“Practice, me dear,” Sam chuckled, drawing Frodo to him, his hands around his waist. “Practice. But never enough, love.”>>
I love that they can never get enough of each other. I can never get enough of them either. Well, you *know* that. Thank you. I hope you're doing well!
Love,
Lois
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Yes, doing well, but impatiently waiting for RL to stop being quite so distracting!
Another sigh.
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Lovely! That part where Merry talked with Sam and made peace with the fact that Frodo had made his choice...that was sweetness and sadness all at once. I love it.
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And I think that Merry and Sam actually have a lot in common once they get past this. Hmmm....