elderberrywine (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
elderberrywine) wrote2004-10-26 09:25 am
elderberrywine) wrote2004-10-26 09:25 am
New Fic: A Rose for My Love, Part Five (Final Part)
Well, the fics seem to come in pairs. So here is the last of the Rose for My Love story, set back in the Shire Morns series.
Title: A Rose For My Love, Part Five
Author: Elderberry Wine
Pairing: F/S, D/P
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Some emdings are more happy than others, and the name of the fic is finally explained.
Sam carefully lifted Frodo’s hand, from where it lay across his chest, and laying it back down on the coverlet, swung his legs to the side of the bed. Frodo’s steady breathing quickened for a moment, but then settled back into an even pace. Fondly, Sam gazed down at the tousled dark curls, the luxurious dark lashes highlighted against the pale cheek, the slender yet strong arm now over the coverlet, and listened to the steady light snore. For as much as Frodo might deny it, Sam knew full well that that regular sound could be called nothing but. As tempting as that warm and persuasive body was though, there was something that had been nagging at Sam, and he needed to consider it. And it wasn’t too likely that he’d be considering anything but Frodo, as long as he stayed abed. Noiselessly, he walked to the window, and gazed unseeingly out at the hazy obliquely lit world without.
It was Lar, and it wasn’t, that had him disturbed. For the first time, last night, he had suddenly realized the predicament that Lar was probably in. But what bothered him even more, he had to admit to himself, was Lar’s implication that he was in a similar situation, only differentiated by a kinder master. It was as if those words, those looks, which floated about him in Hobbiton, had been abruptly and unequivocally directed at him. And now it was suddenly a matter that he could not avoid facing. He had been made unexpectedly aware of the manner in which others saw him, and he realized that he had never really faced the appearance of his situation before.
But once he considered Bracegirdle and his servant, and the gap in his own life between the reality of what truly was, and the assumptions of what was thought, the errors of those assumptions were quite clear to him. For, of course, it wasn’t the same at all, no matter the impression others might have. There had never been any sort of demand from Frodo, never any asking for what had not been already freely given, and there had never been any gain in it for Sam himself, except in the way of something for which there could be no price, Frodo’s heart. Turning, he walked back to their bed, and stared down at Frodo. He had to admit, that not only was there little worldly benefit to him, but there was much in the way of loss, to his name and his standing within the small world of Hobbiton. And, of course, it never had mattered, and never would. His heart had been given to the hobbit who lay asleep before him, and all the mornings of the world would pass away before that could ever change. His will, and his life had been set, and now lay before him in paths that he had once never dreamed of. Even though he was still a tween and, some would say, too young to yet know his mind, he had no doubt that he would ever want to change any of this.
However, his bare skin was beginning to feel the chill of the early morning air, and the warm place next to Frodo was too tempting. He’d have to worry about Lar later. Carefully, he lifted the blanket, and slipped in next to Frodo. With a gentle sigh and a sleepy murmur, Frodo turned, in his sleep, to Sam, and wrapped an unconscious arm tightly about him, his leg reaching up and winding about Sam’s. Sam smiled tenderly at that, and folding Frodo gently into his embrace, fell thankfully back into sleep once again.
*****
It was an insistent knock on their door that awoke Frodo. At first, it seemed as if it was the gentle tap to let them know that the first breakfast tray was without, in the hall. But the knock repeated itself, and Frodo groggily became aware that either the staff had become somewhat adamant that their warm meals be properly appreciated, or it was someone else. The third time decided it, and Frodo rose from their cozy bed with an annoyed yawn, as Sam continued to sleep soundly. Blearily glancing around the room for something to wrap himself in, his eye fell upon his cloak, carelessly tossed over one of the chairs, and it was swathed in this, that he answered the door.
It was Merry in the doorway, completely dressed, as if for traveling. “Oh,” he murmured, looking rather disconcerted. “I didn’t think…”
Frodo smiled drowsily at his cousin’s consternation, running a hand through his own wayward curls. “I suppose we are running rather late this morning, after all. I’d ask you in, but Sam’s still asleep,” he added, motioning toward the bed, where indeed Sam was only half-covered and rather sprawled, breathing quite steadily and obviously sound asleep.
“Oh,” Merry repeated, just a trifle uncomfortably. “I just wanted to let you know that we’re getting ready to leave, and I wanted to say good-bye.”
“So soon?” Frodo asked in dismay, his cloak starting to slip down a bare shoulder.
Merry nodded, glancing down at his feet. “Mother wants to be getting back, and my father can’t stay away that long, either.”
“Well, hold on then, just let me get dressed, and wake up Sam, and we’ll both be out in no time.”
Merry nodded again, saying no more, and turning, quickly left down the hall, with a concerned Frodo watching him leave.
*****
Frodo, with Sam dutifully following, quickly met up with the Brandybucks and their entourage, preparing to leave in the snowdrift covered front courtyard. The snow was continuing to fall, but at a steady pace, and visibility was sufficient. There were, of course, no guaranties that these conditions would continue. Pippin and his father were there as well, and Pippin was standing quite close to Merry, a downcast look on his face.
“Frodo,” called out Saradoc, upon seeing them arrive. “I wonder if I might have a word with you, lad.” He beckoned to Frodo, and Frodo went to where the older hobbit was standing, near the ponies, stamping and huffing in the frosty air.
Paladin was there as well, with a rather worried look on his face. “I do wish you’d stay a bit longer, Sara,” he was muttering as Frodo walked up. “There’s really no need to be off in all of this,” he added, waving one hand out, as the other was quite unconsciously stroking the ponies’ noses in a soothing manner.
“I know,” Saradoc sighed, shaking his head, “But Esme is in a proper fuss, and if we stay any longer, well, you know, Pal. I don’t know what it is about this place that gets her back up so, but that’s how it is.”
“Aye, she’s always been like that,” Paladin agreed reluctantly. “Gets her mind made up, and there’s no budging her. But you take care, now, and try to get her to stop at that inn I was telling you about.”
Saradoc nodded, and then turned to Frodo, who had been silently standing by during this exchange. “Frodo,” he said seriously, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Do try to come by, for Merry’s sake. I don’t want him to, well, I’d prefer that he follow your example rather than any of the others Esme tries to stick him with. Somehow, you’ve turned out all right, Frodo, although I suppose you can thank Bilbo for that far more than us. No,” he continued, as Frodo shook his head. “You know I’m right. And you needn’t come alone, no matter what she says.”
“I know, Saradoc, and I thank you for that,” Frodo answered firmly, “but I’d rather not put myself, and especially Sam, in that situation. But of course, Merry is very welcome at Bag End whenever he wishes. As are you,” he added, with the beginnings of a sly grin. “Should Brandy Hall become occasionally a little… stuffy, shall we say?”
Saradoc gave out an unexpected snort of laughter at Frodo‘s comment, and clapped Frodo on the shoulder, as Paladin looked on with a grin. “Well said, lad,” he chuckled. “You do have a point, come to think of it. And one I won’t be forgetting, I promise you.”
In the meanwhile, Merry was standing silently next to a clearly unhappy Pippin, his face withdrawn and gazing downward. It wasn’t until his mother started to approach the carriages that were being secured to the stout ponies, that he turned to Pippin and silently gave him a fierce hug. He then turned to Sam, who had been standing quietly by the side wall, and reached out his arms to give him a hug as well. Sam, slightly startled by the gesture, returned it almost hesitantly just as Esme walked past them.
“Merry,” came a distinctly sharp reprimand. “Kindly watch yourself.” And she walked past without looking back.
“Watch what?” came Merry’s instantaneous curt retort, as he turned, still in Sam’s diffident embrace. His hand slipped down, and firmly caught hold of Sam’s.
Esme whirled around at that, sharp circles of red on her cheeks, and her mouth drawn down with disapproval. “We’ve already discussed this, Meriadoc.”
“I’ve nothing to say to you regarding your choice of friends,” Merry replied abruptly, his brows narrowing. “I’d thank you to extend me the same courtesy.”
“Merry, it’s all right,” came Sam’s nearly inaudible reassurance, but Esme turned on him furiously.
“I believe you’d be forgetting that Master Brandybuck is your superior, hobbit,” she snapped at that, glaring furiously at Sam. “Kindly keep that fact in mind. You’d better not be making as free with the rest of hobbit gentry as you do your master.”
Merry’s face flamed instantly at her cutting words. “Sam was speaking to me, not you, I believe,” he bit off the words angrily. “And I’d prefer my friends to address me by my name.”
“Oh, pardon me,” Esme turned again, and walked away, her face suddenly cold and disdainful. “I hadn’t realized that you had resorted to the help. In the carriage, Meriadoc, we are leaving now.”
Merry wordlessly turned back to Sam, his face now pale with emotion. “Don’t you worry none,” Sam murmured to him, his heart suddenly wrung with pity for the future Master of Brandy Hall. He gave Merry’s hand a slight squeeze before releasing it and stepping back. “I’d be right glad to see you again, any time.”
Merry blinked, and nodded slightly, and then turned once more to Pippin.
“Don’t go,” Pippin whispered, anguish clear on his face, reaching a hand out toward Merry’s sleeve.
But Merry bowed his head, and then lifted it with a resolute expression and a determined lift of his chin. “I must,” he replied briefly. “But I’ll be seeing both of you soon.”
He turned abruptly then, and walked over to where Frodo stood next to his father. Frodo, who had not heard the exchange between Merry and his mother, gave him a concerned look, startled by the naked emotions on Merry’s face. But Merry said nothing, and encircled his cousin in his arms, closing his eyes and holding on desperately. Frodo held him tightly as well, and stroking his back lovingly, murmured something into Merry’s ear for him alone to hear. Saradoc watched for a moment, both sadness and sympathy suddenly evident in his expression, but then he laid a gentle hand on Merry’s shoulder.
“We must go, son,” he said firmly, and the carriages and ponies were soon gone, heading through the misting snow back to Buckland.
Paladin had turned back into the Great Smials when Frodo, worry and dismay clear on his face, found Pippin and Sam standing together against the rough brick wall of the courtyard. Before he could ask though, Pippin gave a ragged gulp, and hands in his pockets and head down, started to stumble away out into the snowy fields, away from the smial, away from the both of them. Frodo, now doubly concerned, glanced over to Sam who, as if coming to a decision, squared his shoulders and with a troubled look at Frodo, nodded toward Pippin’s disappearing figure. “We’d best stay with him,” he murmured, and that was enough for Frodo. Together, they followed the distraught teen.
*****
It was to the winepress, as Frodo had suspected, that Pippin headed. But the snow had drifted up quite deeply around the door during the last day, and Frodo and Sam found Pippin futilely kicking it away, and unsuccessfully tugging at the stout wooden door, when they caught up with him. “Here, Pip,” Frodo said softly, coming up behind his young cousin, “let us give you a hand with that.”
Pippin said nothing, but glared at the immobile door, handle in his hand, as if it were alone responsible for all that was wrong, but Sam, quietly walking up behind Frodo, could see the tracks of tears glistening on the young hobbit’s cheeks. He bent down, without comment, and began to scoop away the snow piled about the door with his hands. It did not take long to free the door, and Pippin finally flung it open.
The shed was icy cold, and it seemed forever to Sam before Pippin finally located a tinderbox, and with shaking hands, lit the remnants of kindling that had been left from the last time they had been here, a couple of days ago. Sam busied himself by looking about the shed for more wood, and finally discovering a stack of relatively dry logs, concerned himself with getting the fire properly started. Frodo, however, was watching Pippin, and once Pippin had replaced the tinderbox, silently held out his arms to him. With a gasping sob, Pippin was in them, and the two hobbits sank to the ground before the fire, Pippin now with his arms tightly around Frodo and sobbing into his weskit, and Frodo, his face drawn with concern, gently stoking Pippin’s back, as he had earlier stroked Merry’s, and rocking him slightly to comfort him. Sam sat down over to the side of the other two, and wordlessly stared into the flames.
Eventually, though, Pippin’s sobs settled down into the occasional hiccup, and a rather runny nose. Frodo, familiar with the procedure, silently produced a handkerchief, and Pippin gave a hearty blow and settled back, still well wrapped in Frodo’s arms. “And now,” Frodo said softly, nonchalantly stuffing the cloth back into his pocket. “What has produced all this? Something to do with Merry, I suspect, from the farewell he gave me.”
“Aunt Esme,” Pippin’s reply was shaky, and the threat of renewed tears was strong in his voice.
“Well, she’s usually in a bit of a mood by the end of a visit here,” Frodo prodded gently, still continuing to stroke Pippin’s back. “What set her off this time?”
“It was all my doin’,” came unexpectedly from Sam, who was continuing to stare into the flames at their side. “I didn’t think, I wasn’t watchin’ myself as I should.”
“Sam!” came an indignant response from Pippin, as he twisted himself without warning out of Frodo’s arms, and sitting up straight, gave Sam a fierce glare. Startled, Frodo turned toward him too, in time to see a slow flush creep across Sam’s face. “Well, if that just isn’t, isn’t the most…” Pippin spluttered, words clearly failing him. “How can you possibly think any of that was your fault?”
Sam did not look at either of them, but shrugged hesitantly. “Titles mean that much to her,” he stated softly. “There’s no need for me t’be rilin’ her up, just afore they go. I never meant it, it just slipped out, seemingly.”
“Hah.” Pippin continued to glare at Sam. “Too good for her brother and his family, that one, let alone anyone else. She was set on finding some fault, Sam. She always is when she goes. Gives her an excuse to be condescending, and graciously forgive us.”
“But I shouldn’t ha’given her that excuse,” Sam glanced guiltily toward Pippin finally, “because she used it to go after Merry. I’d not be mindin’ if it’d just been me.”
“Well, I certainly would have,” Frodo’s mouth was rather grim as he started piecing together what had happened. “What was Sam’s great crime, anyway, Pip?”
“Oh, he just let Merry give him a good-bye hug,” Pippin turned to Frodo, still indignant. “And then, let’s not forget that he dared call Merry by name. That one really set her off, it did.”
“Ah,” sighed Frodo, understandingly. Scooting slightly closer to Sam, he reached out his hand, and Sam’s was immediately clasped up closely in it. “You don’t understand, Sam,” he said gently. “It wasn’t you at all. Usually it’s either Pippin or myself, you know. It’s the traditional farewell from Aunt Esme.”
Pippin had been staring at the fire through Frodo’s explanation, his brow still knit, but turned to Frodo after his comment, and asked him plaintively, “How can Merry stand it, Frodo? I wish he could come and live with us. It’s just not right that he has to put up with that. I just wish I could do something.”
But Frodo shook his head, and gently hugged Pippin with the hand that was not in Sam’s. “He can bear it, Pippin,” his voice trailed off oddly and both Pippin and Sam turned to look at him. “Once it was me,” he continued softly, gazing at the flames unseeingly. “I never thought I could stand it, either. But I did, for Merry’s sake. I didn’t leave, I didn’t throw myself in the river, I stayed and put up with it, because of Merry. And now Merry puts up with it. Because of you, Pip.” The last words were so soft that Sam hardly heard them, but Pippin was staring at Frodo, his face impossibly young, and yearning.
“He does?” he whispered, his green eyes wide.
“Of course he does,” Frodo replied quietly but firmly, turning to him. “You give him someone to be brave for. And that’s very important, you know.”
Pippin settled thoughtfully against Frodo and said no more, and Sam sat next to them, Frodo’s hand still warm around his, and considered the mysteries of family.
*****
It was the prospect of elevensies that finally drove them from the by-now cozy shed, both Frodo and Sam having missed both breakfasts. But as they walked through the softly swirling snow on their way back to the smial, Sam mentioned that he ought to eat in the servant’s hall, and see if he could find his sisters. Frodo nodded rather absently, his mind still on Merry, and he and Pippin entered through the Great Smial’s grand front door, on their way to the front room where the Took family’s repast was already spread out.
Sam had another errand in mind first, though. He hated to disturb the Took estate gardeners on Yule Day itself, but they had especially assured him the day before that he was to pay the day no mind, and find them whenever he was ready.
So it was that Sam entered the large, warm servant’s hall with a long parcel, well wrapped in sacking and loosely tied up with twine. Looking about, he saw Daisy and May at the far end of the hall, tucked in a corner, and having a rather animated conversation. It wasn’t until he was nearly up to them that they both glanced over at him, and the conversation came to an abrupt halt. Daisy had far more color in her cheeks than normal, and she quickly stood up as Sam approached. “Oh, Sam, you’d not be havin’ a thing to eat,” she exclaimed, in a curiously hurried voice. “And no more have we. I’ll fetch us all a bite.” And she quickly left.
Sam, pulling up a chair, sat down with the odd feeling that there was something happening here, of which he was quite ignorant. The look May was giving him was indecipherable, but seemed to be demanding a response nonetheless. “Well,” he said as he sat there, realizing that statement to be wholly inadequate, but knowing that it would prompt May into some sort of response, and knowing his sister, more than likely an irritable one.
He was correct. “Well, yourself, Samwise Gamgee,” May snapped at him. “Is that all you’d have to be sayin’?”
Sam sighed, and carefully laid his bundle down next to the chair. For the life of him, he’d never been able to figure lasses out. “Tell me, May,” he prompted patiently. “There’s summat up, but what it is, I’d have no idea.”
May narrowed her eyes at that. “Well, if you’d look about a bit from time to time instead of staring at a certain someone as if he were all the moon and stars wrapped up together, you’d might notice that there’s more goin’ on about this place.” Sam stared at her, dumbfounded at that remark, but May glanced over to Daisy, who was returning with a laden dish on one hand and a teapot in the other.
Plopping the plate into Sam’s lap, and the pot on a small table next to him, she exclaimed hastily, “Oh, the cups, I’ll just be going for them,” and was gone before Sam or May could utter a word.
“I’m not going to be doin’ it for her,” May muttered, more to herself than Sam, “no matter how many trips she makes.” And to Sam’s further mystification, she crossed her arms over her chest and stared stonily at Daisy, who gave her a quick imploring look as she retuned with her hands full of teacups and a honey pot.
“I believe there’s summat you’d have to be tellin’ Sam about.” May’s voice was stern, and Daisy sank into her seat looking, to Sam’s amazement, distinctly nervous.
“Yes, well, I mean to be sayin’, that is,” Daisy was obviously floundering now, and Sam watched her with astonishment, but also with the most peculiar notions starting to go through his mind. “You know that summer, a couple of years back, when I tried to talk some sense into you, Sam?” Daisy was now staring fixedly at her hands, clasped tightly in her lap, and quite unmistakably blushing. “Well, I was dead wrong. And you were right. It is worth it all, and there’s no point to being sensible about such matters, no ways.”
Quite suddenly, the picture of Daisy entering the Great Hall the other night in Pearl’s company, and the expression that had been on his sister’s face, flashed into Sam’s mind, and he blurted out, “Pearl Took? You? And Pearl Took?”
Daisy’s face became almost impossibly bright at Sam’s guess, and the soft grunt he heard from May decidedly confirmed it. “Tell ‘im,” came May’s voice, with a distinctly uncompromising tone to it, as Sam stared dumbfounded at his oldest sister, who was by now unconsciously twisting tightly at a corner of her skirt, and staring furiously at the teapot on the table next to them. A fleeting thought ran through his mind that he had never really seen Daisy nervous or apprehensive about what he might think, but that was exactly what he saw before him now. It was that, that made Sam’s feelings for his sister suddenly lurch in sympathy, knowing all too well how it felt to face the disdain of others for the crime of following one’s heart, rather than one’s head.
“Tell me about it, Daisy,” he said, in a soft voice, as May gave an unreadable sigh next to him. Daisy quickly shot him a grateful sideways glance, and her hands began to calm themselves.
“ ‘Twas when she was stayin’ at Bag End,” she replied in a low voice. “I can never tell you how, for I’d not know myself. And I wasn’t even a’that certain when we came here. But now, we’d both be sure of it.” She stopped for a moment and her face was suddenly wistful. “But I don’t know how we’ll manage it,” she added sadly. “Pearl has no place of her own, and no more do I. An’ her getting married is important to her family. As for me, there’s Da. But I do know,” she looked quickly up at both her brother and sister with an almost fierce glint in her eyes, “that it’s real. For both of us.”
“Then the way will come,” Sam said after a moment’s silence, with a firm authority in his voice. “And whatever I can do for you Daisy, dear, I will.” Gently, he reached over and took up her hand in his. “And I’m that happy for you both, love,” he smiled suddenly at her, “for there’s nothing more glorious than that.”
The tension vanished from Daisy’s face as she returned his smile thankfully. “Aye, ‘tis at that,” she agreed happily.
“Like as not,” May pointed out rather grumpily beside the two of them. “But fine words alone will naught be gettin’ you what you want. Luckily for the pair o’ye, there’s one practical Gamgee about.”
*****
The benches were beginning to be pushed aside in preparation for the afternoon dancing when Frodo and Pippin quietly entered the hall. But Pippin’s appearance called for much in the way of merry greetings and hearty cheers, for the young Took heir was a great favorite with all in the hall. Frodo quietly made his way to where Sam stood near May, Daisy having earlier disappeared once more. May had been searching for a sign of the young Hoarfoot, since she had begun to enjoy his company greatly, but as of yet, there had been no sight of him.
Frodo didn’t need to say a word though, as Sam sensed him near, and turned suddenly about with a warm smile on his face and Frodo’s name on his lips. May couldn’t help but notice the entirely open manner in which Frodo reached out and caught up Sam’s hand in his own, and the look of quiet happiness that lit her brother’s face. With a quick glance back at May, and Sam’s words, “Don’t forget, May, dear, it’s under my chair,” the pair were gone, rescuing Pippin from his admirers on the way out.
As they left the hall though, they passed by the great door to the kitchen courtyard that generally stood open during the day, as the serving hobbits came and went on their errands and chores. There wasn’t much traffic today however, for on Yule, only the most essential of tasks were done, and Frodo stopped short before the doorway. “Look,” he pointed outdoors to the other two.
They stopped as well, and stared out, for truly it was a lovely sight. The snow had come to a halt, and within the last hour or so, the clouds had all been brushed away, and the afternoon sun shone in a brilliantly blue sky. “Let’s go out,” Frodo smiled with delight. “We’ve been shut up in here entirely too long.”
With a pleased laugh, Pippin grabbed up some well-worn old jackets that hung nearby for the convenience of folk as they came and went. “No one will be needing these today. Let’s not bother to go back for our own coats.” That was agreeable to the other two, and in a moment, they were out.
It was a rare and glorious afternoon. After so many days of dim light and snowing mist, the sun was nearly blinding in its intensity, and reflected in sparkling rays off of the softly rounded drifts of fresh unspoiled snow. Walking out into it with glee, Pippin laughed at the crunch of it under his feet, and began to run, until he stepped knee-deep into a particularly high drift, and fell forward with a muffled thump.
Frodo, following behind at a slightly more sedate pace, chuckled at that. “Pip, you silly goose,” he said fondly, “do you have any idea where you’re going?”
“No,” Pippin declared joyfully, jumping up and spinning himself around, deliberately allowing himself to fall back in a thick drift, “and it really doesn’t matter.”
“Snowbirds,” Frodo heard Sam’s voice murmur behind him, and he looked over his shoulder with a grin.
“Snow birds, Sam?” he asked, curious. He glanced up in the sky, but there was no sign of any type of bird in all that bright blue. Behind him, he could hear Sam’s chuckle.
“Snowbirds. You’d not know about them?” Sam looked at the two gentle hobbits in amusement, as Pippin gave his head a mystified shake as well. “Well, now. Think of that,” they heard him mutter, as he passed by both of them. They had stopped in a wide snowy field, past the courtyards, but Sam saw what he needed not far ahead, and made his way to it.
It was a stump, slightly higher than the surrounding snow, and Sam climbed up and stood on the top of it, facing Frodo and Pippin. “Snowbirds,” he repeated, rather officially, and then to their amazement, let himself fall flat back into the snow, moving his arms up and down as he did so. Frodo and Pippin walked over as Sam lay placidly there waiting for them. Lifting his arms in the air, he explained, “It comes out better if you don’t get up on your own.”
Frodo laughed, and caught hold of one of Sam’s arms, and Pippin, the grin on his face showing he understood as well, grabbed the other. With a nod of his head to Pippin, Frodo declared, “Now!” and with a sharp tug, Sam was brought directly to his feet.
Turning around carefully, Sam stared proudly at the impression he had left in the snow, the movement of his arms having created the effect of wings. “Now that,” he declared, with a pleased nod, “would be a snowbird.”
Of course, nothing must do, but Pippin had to try it next. Laughing, they examined the impression that he left, but he was still too light for it to show up that well. “Havin’ a bit of weight is a good thing for snowbirding,” Sam laughed sympathetically at Pippin’s crestfallen expression.
But then Pippin glanced back up with a suddenly cheerful look. “Perhaps I should hold onto a rock the next time,” he grinned. “Although it might be a little difficult to find one under this…” his voice trailed off as he surveyed the snow-covered fields. “But I think I remember some over there,” and he was off, wading determinedly through the knee-deep drifts.
Frodo watched him go with a warm smile, and then turned to Sam. “Well, I know I have more weight than Pip,” he chuckled, “so let’s see how well I can do.” Leaping atop the stump, he turned so that his back was facing a section of unspoiled snow. Then, with his arms outstretched, and his eyes locked on Sam’s, he let himself fall trustingly backwards. But it seemed to Sam that he floated more than fell, a graceful falling with no awkwardness or uncertainty to it whatsoever, confident and secure in the knowledge that he would be held, and not hurt, by the snow below him. Indeed, Sam would not have been surprised to find that Frodo had left no impression at all, so light had appeared his fall.
He walked to where Frodo lay laughing, with his arms stretched up, and grasping them both in his own, gave a pull and suddenly Frodo was in his arms, snow-flecked dark curls, cheeks glowing from the frosty air, and merry eyes burning as bright as the blue sky above them. It was impossible not to tighten his grasp, not to lean slightly forward to reach that lovely mouth with his own, not to let his body lean into the other, feeling the length of it fit against his with a sweet willing familiarity. But Frodo answered his kiss with a pleased hum deep in his throat, a firm arm around Sam’s waist, and his mouth eagerly opened to Sam’s. And then, it mattered not to Sam where they stood, or who saw, or what they might think, for the happiness that surged through his heart was worth any price. It wasn’t until the sound of footsteps methodically plodding through the snow was heard to approach them, that they broke reluctantly apart, and turned to find Pippin, hands in his pockets, standing near them.
There was an odd expression on Pippin’s face, almost as if he had found some new species of wildlife, and was trying to puzzle out exactly what it was. “Pip,” exclaimed Frodo, a little self-consciously, as he brushed the snow off of the back of his trousers, drawing slightly away from Sam. “You’re too young for this.”
“I won’t always be,” Pippin pointed out, with the most reasonable tone in the world in his voice.
Frodo gave him a sharp look then. “No,” he answered slowly, “I suppose not.” Reaching up to his hair, he brushed the snow out of his curls thoughtfully. “Well, I know I wouldn’t mind some tea,” he changed the topic briskly, and Pippin laughed.
“Don’t worry, Frodo,” he assured him cheerfully. “I won’t try anything on Merry quite yet.” And he was off, striding through the deep snow with a confident stride.
“I’m sure Merry will find that a relief,” Frodo muttered to Sam wryly, as they followed the teen. Sam chuckled, but couldn’t help a quick glance back at where Frodo had fallen. The light wind was picking up a bit, as the afternoon had begun to chill, and a quick gust dusted the snow across the elusive impression Frodo’s body had made. It was nearly gone, as if it had never been.
*****
“You and Sam will both be there, right?” had been Pippin’s parting words, as they had separated to ready themselves for the Yule dinner. He had been nearly out of sight before he called back, “Oh, and Sam! Your sisters too, of course. Just family, you know.”
Sam had turned to Frodo in puzzlement as he shut the door of their room on the retreating figure of Pippin. “Yule night is just for family here,” Frodo explained with a fond smile, as he took off his jacket and began to rummage through his pack for a last clean shirt. “The guests and others all gather in groups all about the place, but the family has dinner together in Uncle Paladin’s study. And since I’m family, of course you are as well. And your sisters, so you’d best let them know.”
Sam gave a guilty start at that, realizing that one sister at least was perhaps more family than Frodo knew, but held his tongue on that score. That wasn’t the type of news to be casually mentioning right before they joined the rest of the family, and he also thought it best to wait and see how the lasses handled it. Leaving Frodo to change, he set off to his sisters’ room to inform them of the plans for the evening. He was already wearing his best, anyway.
The cozy wood-paneled room, although large enough, was quite a contrast to the vast Great Hall, more welcoming than imposing. Sam recognized most of the hobbits gathered there, as being Pippin’s direct family, but Frodo also made sure that he was introduced to the few others that were unknown to him, such as Everard Banks, Eglantine Took’s brother, and his family, and Lilly Grubb, Paladin’s widowed sister, and her three sons. A cold buffet had been spread out that afternoon, to allow the cooking staff the evening to themselves, but there was more than ample food for the hobbits gathered comfortably before the fire. There was, in addition, an abundant supply of both beer and wine, as well as tea, and in no time at all, Sam was comfortably seated next to Frodo on a well-cushioned bench, a heaped plate next to each on small tables at either end, and a very fine bottle of Old Winyards to be shared between the two of them. Pippin had spread himself out, with more than one plate, on the rug in front of them, and was contently using Frodo’s legs as a backrest.
Sam glanced over to the corner of the room next to the fire, where both of his sisters, as well as Pearl, were engrossed in a rather intense conversation. He was undeniably curious, but seeing as May was involved, he knew he’d be hearing the result of it soon enough. The two younger Grubb lads were seated in front of the fire, endeavoring to roast and peel chestnuts nearly simultaneously, without scorching their fingers, and Eglantine and Lilly were seated across the room in comfortable chairs, Paladin contently sandwiched in between, and carrying on an amused debate as to whether it was easier to raise lasses or lads.
Frodo, who had just polished off a large roll piled rather high with ham, to Sam’s quiet delight, looked about after taking a sip of his wine, and mentioned to Pippin, “Don’t tell me we managed to escape the Bracegirdle. He must be plaguing some other unfortunate group.”
“Oh, no,” Pippin shook his head and popped another pickled mushroom into his mouth. “He’s gone. I heard there was hearty cheering as he left.”
“Well, that’s good news,” Frodo said thankfully. “I certainly would rather see him a day ahead of us on the road, so we don’t have to share an inn with him again. Pity about the way he treats that poor servant of his, though.”
“And that’s why Dad wouldn’t sell him any ponies,” Pippin reminded his cousin, wiping a piece of bread energetically about on his plate. “But he said the Bracegirdle owns all the Hoarfoot family land, and makes sure they’re never able to buy it themselves. There’s no other work to be had in those parts, either. Dad told me, though, that Bracegirdle only likes young hobbits to wait on him, so he’ll be looking for a new one soon, I expect. Older hobbits probably aren’t as easy to keep in line.”
As Pippin casually spoke, however, Frodo suddenly felt Sam stiffen at his side, and glanced curiously over to him. With concern, he noticed that Sam’s expression was closed off and withdrawn. But before he could say anything, Everard Banks’ youngest daughter had dragged the two younger Grubb lads in front of him and were all staring intently at Frodo. “He’s the one,” she pointed out, with the air of showing off a prize cabbage. “He knew Bilbo Baggins.”
Distracted from Sam, Frodo gave a chuckle as the three young hobbits stared solemnly at him. Across the room, Lilly Grubb called out with a laugh, “Forgive the little ones, Frodo. They think that Bilbo was some sort of mythical creature.”
“Why of course he wasn’t,” Frodo replied with a warm smile at the trio. “He was a Baggins, just like me, except much more brave and famous, of course.”
“Did you really know him, sir?” asked the oldest Grubb lad, joining his brothers, and looking at Frodo with wonder.
“First off, it’s Frodo, you know, not sir. Don’t make me feel like your old grandfather, now,” Frodo good-naturedly chided them. “And of course I knew him. He was my cousin, actually, but I called him my uncle. And he adopted me to live with him at Bag End. But my friend, Sam, here, and his sisters, why, they knew him longer than I did, really.”
Giving Sam a quick glance, he was glad to see that Sam had shaken off his odd mood, whatever the cause of it had been, and now was affably smiling at the youngsters as well. Sam started a bit at Frodo’s mention of himself, but then chuckled and softly added, “Aye, that I did. Since I was a fauntling. I was his gardener, as was my da afore me.”
“Bilbo Baggins’ gardener!” breathed one of the lads in awe. “Oh, you’re so lucky! Did you ever see his treasure? Did dwarves ever come to visit him?”
Frodo gave Sam an amused side-glance. “Do you ever remember seeing dwarves about the place, Sam? The occasional wizard perhaps, but I never remember seeing a dwarf.”
“Aye, to be sure,” Sam agreed, with an air of matter-of-factness. “No dwarves. Just a wizard.”
Paladin had been watching this exchange from across the room with unconcealed delight. “Face it, Frodo,” he called over to him, “you are also the official heir of all of Bilbo’s stories. And you have a new generation here to enlighten.”
Pippin, seated to the side of the three young hobbits, laughed at the thought. “Oh, you don’t want to hear tales of boring old Bilbo,” he teased them affectionately. “They’re just all full of nonsense like dragons and elves and trolls and no end of other dreary things. Who can believe any of all that?”
His youngest niece gave him a severe look. “Uncle Pip,” she said sternly. “If Uncle Frodo says it’s true, why, so it is.” She plunked herself on the rug directly in front of Frodo, obviously settling in for the evening, as her cousins meekly made themselves comfortable about her.
“Well,” Frodo gave her an amused glance, “I believe I’ve received my orders. But Sam and Pip must be sure to tell me anything I forget, for they’ve heard these stories as often as I.” And with another sip of his wine, he began.
Sam listened to Frodo’s voice as it began to paint pictures of things fair and foul, times long since past, and bravery and courage. Dreamily, he let the words wind about him, and unleash his imagination. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that Pearl’s mother had joined the conversation that Pearl was having with his sisters, but at the moment, he could spare no thought for anything but the tales Frodo was weaving. Not for the first time, he wondered if he and Frodo would ever set off on the path that Bilbo had taken, would ever find themselves in those strange and wonderful lands. Part of him was terrified by the thought, but there was another part of his heart that whispered in his dreams, of enchantment and beauty far from the Shire.
*****
It was very late as Frodo and Sam finally walked through the corridors of the Great Smial. The candles in their sconces along the walls were guttering low, and indeed, many of them had already gone out. They walked closely together, Frodo’s arm over Sam’s shoulders, and Sam’s arm around Frodo’s waist. It had been a long evening, but a merry one, and Sam was in no mind for sleep. Causing them both to stop before the door of the bathroom, not far from their room, which he remembered from the afternoon before, he turned to Frodo, his eyes dark in the candlelight. “Are you that sleepy yet, Frodo-love?” he murmured huskily, thoughts of their all too hasty bath of the day before in his mind.
But Frodo smiled slowly, reading Sam’s thoughts, and whispered, “Not here, Sam. Let me show you.” Taking Sam by the hand then, he drew him past their room, further and further into the maze that was the Great Smials, until at last they were before an ancient wooden door, “This is the family bath,” Frodo turned to Sam, speaking softly, “but I don’t think they’d mind. They all seemed to be heading to bed when we left, even Pippin. I think we’ll be quite safe.” And he pushed open the door.
The only light in the room came from a series of small windows high up along one wall. It was from them that the frosty glint of moonlight shone into the room, for the evening had remained clear and the light of the pale sickle of the new moon glinted on the surface of dark water in the middle of the room. Frodo took the candle from a sconce in the passageway, and lit two torches that were set against the wall on either side of the door. The room became dimly lit, and Sam could see a large wooden tub sunken well into the ground in the center of the room, with several rows of pale timeworn flagstones ringed about it. Frodo picked out one of the torches from the iron bands that held it to the wall, and walked over to a fireplace that was set in against the windowed wall. He lit the logs, and Sam noticed that there was a large caldron hanging from a hook above the fire.
“Look, Sam,” Frodo replaced the torch, and took up Sam’s hand. “The water automatically fills from a spring deep in the hillside. It‘s sweet, but cold. So when the water in the caldron is heated, one just has to tip it out, and it runs along that sluice and heats up the water in the tub.”
“Well, now,” Sam exclaimed in wonder, examining the tub. “If these Tooks ain’t that clever. I surely would love to see this in a better light.”
“Uncle Paladin would love to show it to you, then,” Frodo laughed softly, “as well as give you the life story of every Took involved. But as for me, I’ve always loved the light in here. Moonlight and candlelight both. Nothing could be lovelier.”
Sam smiled and refrained from the obvious comparison, for it was moonlight, candlelight, and the face before him that he thought was the loveliest. But Frodo had already turned, and was clearing the stacked towels from a small wooden bench to the side of the room. He placed them on a wooden tray that also held a couple of bars of a fragrant soap, making room for the both of them. “Have a seat, Sam,” he looked up at Sam with a smile. “We’ll have to wait for the water to warm. Trust me, you don’t want to be in that water yet.”
Sam sank down on the bench beside him and Frodo picked up one of his hands and, clasping it tightly in his own, studied the both of them, fingers entwined. “What was it at dinner tonight that bothered you?” he asked softly, after a few moments of companionable silence. “It was something to do with Bracegirdle and Lar, wasn’t it?”
“Aye,” said Sam reluctantly, feeling a curious hesitancy in continuing this particular line of conversation.
Frodo was silent for a moment, still staring at their hands, and then added softly, “Bracegirdle obviously uses Lar badly, but is it more than that?”
“Aye,” Sam repeated shortly.
“Did he tell you, Sam?” Frodo turned to him then, his expression unreadable in the faint light. “Why?”
Sam said nothing for several minutes. Then, staring straight ahead, he murmured, “He thought the way o‘it would be the same for me.”
“Oh, Sam,” Frodo replied sadly. Raising Sam’s hand up to his lips, he kissed it tenderly. “I just wish…” he hesitated.
“So do I,” Sam replied, with a rather thick voice. “But there’s nothing for it, Frodo. ‘Tis the way it is in this world, and it can’t be changed none.”
“But there ought to be, Sam,” Frodo said in denial. “There ought to be something I could do.”
“For Lar?” Sam turned to him then. “An’ what could you or I do? That villain owns his family’s land. They’ve nowhere else to go. He knew what working for Bracegirdle would mean. His family would have needed the income. ‘Twas his choice, and he made the best one he could. ‘Tis only time as would be helpin’ him now.”
“And you, Sam?” Frodo’s voice was gentle and he clasped Sam’s hand in both of his.
“Only time will change that, likewise,” Sam gave him a faint smile. “Don’t you ever think that I don’t believe it’s worth it all, Frodo.” Raising his other hand, he brought it to the side of Frodo’s face, and drawing it close to his own, gave him a tender but lingering kiss. “Ah, me dear,” he whispered as they drew apart. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t give for you.”
“Sam, my Sam,” Frodo’s voice was husky as he ran a hand up Sam’s cheek, cradling it tenderly. “There was never any treasure such as you. As long as you’re with me, there’ll never be anything I could want for.”
“Oh, aye, I’ll be with you,” Sam found his mouth again. Passionately, he thrust his tongue into Frodo’s willing mouth, searching and caressing, the joining filling him with heat, until his whole body felt enflamed and engorged. Frodo’s hands had found their way beneath his shirt, and were stroking up his back, pressing him even more tightly.
Dimly though, he knew he had to stop now, or he would not last long. And that was something he definitely planned on tonight. So, with a gasp, he drew apart from Frodo, asking a little breathlessly, “Would that water be hot enough now, d’you think?”
Frodo gave a quick laugh, and stood up. Walking over to the caldron, he peered in, and glanced over his shoulder with a grin. “I believe it’s steaming,” he noted mildly.
“Aye, and it’s not all that is,” Sam muttered under his breath, as he watched Frodo carefully tip the hot water into the sluice. It ran into the cold pool with a great hiss, and a rush of vapor. When the steam had cleared, Frodo cautiously stuck a hand in, and gave Sam a satisfied nod. “Perfect,” he declared.
Sam had no doubt at all on that score. Perfect, indeed, and he had had about enough of waiting. With a few quick movements, his clothing was off, and he was at Frodo’s side. “Ah, Sam,” Frodo said in a low voice, with one hand quickly around Sam’s waist, and another that had unerringly found an extremely sensitive part of Sam’s anatomy. “Have I told you enough how happy you make me?”
“Aye, but don’t stop,” Sam murmured, raising his hands to the buttons on Frodo’s shirt. “Just let me, oh! Frodo-love, how can I when you…”
Frodo laughed, but let Sam finish the shirt, letting go of Sam just long enough to let the shirt slip off his shoulders. The trousers took a little longer to remove, since Sam found it very difficult to address the fastenings only, but at last Frodo was also bare before him.
“Mmm, chilly, don’t you think?” Frodo finally murmured, with a throaty chuckle, after withdrawing his mouth from Sam’s once more. “The water, you know.”
“Right,” Sam agreed absentmindedly, his hands running down Frodo’s smooth, irresistibly rounded backside. But then his glance happened to light on the tray beside the bench, and suddenly water became a very good idea.
Frodo had turned from Sam and stepped into the tub. As was the custom, there was a ledge on which to sit, water at chest-level, around the tub, and it was on this that Frodo stood. Sam, who had quickly snatched up the tray beside the bench while Frodo’s back was turned, placed it beside the edge of the tub and then stepped onto the ledge beside Frodo. The water was hot, but not uncomfortably so, and the fire had begun to take the chill out of the room. With a soft grunt of pleasure, Frodo lowered himself down into the water and was now seated on the ledge, his legs floating out in the water before him, sitting forward just enough to submerge his shoulders and arms. His eyes had closed, and Sam, kneeling on the ledge beside him, marveled at the play of candlelight, firelight, and the faint moonlight, all bathing those lovely pale features in an ethereal glow. Almost, he seemed too lovely to touch, a thing of beauty to only gaze upon and wonder at, until he opened his eyes again, and his direct gaze into Sam’s eyes broke the enchantment that had fallen on him. Frodo was real, most decidedly real, and that smile on his face was telling Sam that his touch would be very much appreciated.
With a quick joyful laugh, Sam swung a leg over Frodo, and turned to face him, straddling him as he sat. Frodo hummed his approval, and with a lingering touch, drew his hands up Sam’s sides and then down his back, ending by cupping Sam and bringing him closer. Sam gave an unsteady sigh then, and slowly brought himself down into Frodo’s lap, nestling Frodo’s erection against his own. Frodo leaned forward at that touch, drawing Sam closer, and began to kiss his way down Sam’s chest, with particular attention at the most sensitive spots.
“Oh, oh, Frodo,” Sam couldn’t help but moan, throwing his head back, and concentrating on not moving too fast, but lingering over the delectable sensation, feeling himself beginning to pulse against Frodo. It was good, wonderfully good, but there was something else that Sam had in mind. He leaned back into Frodo then, his hand reaching blindly out, and grasped the bar of soap from the tray on the stones at the side of the tub.
“Ah, Sam,” came Frodo’s low laugh of approval, and he slid back up out of the water to sit at the edge of the tub, still between Sam’s legs. Quickly, Sam brought the soap up to a lather, the heady aroma of roses beginning to permeate the air, and then lovingly drew his hand over Frodo, caressing and stroking, until Frodo gave a breathless laugh, and cried, “Sam! Hurry, love, or it’ll be too late.” Quickly, he pulled Sam up out of the water, and running his hand between Sam’s legs, sought what he needed.
Sam sucked in a breath as Frodo’s fingers entered him, and let it out in a passionate groan, rocking against Frodo’s hand, urging him in, seeking more. Frodo leaned his forehead on Sam’s shoulder and moaned his name fervently. And then, Sam drew himself up from Frodo’s hand, and slowly sank down on Frodo himself, pushing down, pulling him into the water once more, with their eyes locked together in frank celebration of their mutual desire.
It was Sam, then, who set the pace, who rocked hard against Frodo, who, when nearly at the brink, slowed again, who made sure that Frodo’s hands were against the side of the tub and not on him, so as to last longer, who seized every clue, every nuance of Frodo’s response, and answered it skillfully and ardently. And all the while, he sighed and murmured, “Ah, Frodo, ah, me love, dearest heart,” and Frodo let himself be carried beyond all thought and reason until at last he surged upward with a great cry and groan, and calling Sam’s name out a final time, let his love flow into Sam.
It wasn’t for several moments that he finally caught his breath and realized that Sam still awaited his attentions. With a breathless laugh, he tugged Sam off and upward, taking him in his eager mouth, and nearly instantly tasting Sam’s fervent release. It was only then that they coiled down into each other, still stroking and kissing the other, hearts still racing, and with no words adequate to what they felt. Rocked by the water against Frodo, Sam felt the peace of the quiet room fill him and soothe him, and let Frodo’s touch reveal once again to his heart Frodo’s love for him. The moon had nearly set by the time they reached their room again, and nestled gratefully into each other in their bed.
*****
The next morning, Sam went to his sisters’ room to help them pack. At least, that was the stated reason, but he was also hoping to find out more about the conferences he had witnessed the night before. May let him into their room, where packing up was already in progress, with a most decided look of triumph on her face. Daisy, too, was looking quite cheerful, humming to herself as she randomly stuffed any garment that came within her reach into her bags. Sam took a quick look at both of his sisters and decided there was good news to be told.
“Now, then,” he sat down on a chair, crossing his arms complacently. “The two of you would be havin’ summat to be tellin’ me.”
Daisy laughed at Sam, and spun her way across the room to give a conspicuously patient May a hearty kiss on the cheek. “I’m comin’ back here, and it’s because of my dearest, cleverest sister.”
Sam raised an eyebrow at Daisy’s comment. That was not the opinion she usually expressed of her younger sister.
“Aye, now she calls me that,” May noted, unable to totally keep the laughter out of her voice.
“How so, May?” Sam couldn’t help the surprise in his question. “How did you manage that?”
“Well, Sam, you know the talents our sister has,” May began, starting to look positively smug at this point, to Sam’s eye. “One of them bein’ as a healer. And apparently, that is one thing this vast smial is in need of. Oh, there’s one about, seemingly, but she’d be as green as the grass in spring, and wouldn’t it be just the thing for our Daisy to stay here for awhile, and take her in a bit?”
“Daisy!” Sam exclaimed, rising to give his sister a warm hug, “How wonderful for you!” Daisy blushed and smiled all in one, and without a word, disappeared into the bathroom to retrieve any belongings that might have been left there. But then a sudden thought made Sam pause and turn back to May, after Daisy had gone, with a slight look of apprehension. “And Da?” he asked carefully.
“Well,” May sighed, her expression suddenly dropping a bit. “I expect that would mean me staying with him, or at least for a while.”
“He could put up at Bag End for a bit, if you like,” Sam offered, bravely hiding his fear that this offer would be accepted. “Frodo wouldn’t mind, I know, and the place is plenty big enough.”
May gave him a sharp glance, the hint of a grin peeking through. “Not too likely, Sam,” she replied dryly. “Fortunately enough for you and Mr. Frodo.” Picking up her spare skirt, she began to fold it absentmindedly. “Here I was in always such a hurry to leave, an’ now I’d be the last Gamgee left in the old smial.”
Sam stood up then, and walking up behind her, lay his hands gently on her shoulders. “You’ve had offers, I know, May,” he said softly.
“Oh, offers, aye,” there was a definite tinge of sadness in her words, and she stood still for a moment before turning around and facing him. “But I’ve seen Marigold, Sam, and I’ve seen Daisy, and maybe most of all, I’ve seen you, and the happiness on all your faces. And I’m not willing to settle for just gettin’ out, not any more. I want what all of you have.”
Sam studied her for a moment, and then a slow smile crept across his face. “There’s a lucky hobbit out there,” he murmured, “who will find you someday. An’ somedays you’ll drive him mad, and somedays he’ll think you are the wonder of all the world, but he’ll never be sorry that he fell in love with you.” Leaning forward, he gave her a light kiss on the forehead, and drew back again, his smile deepening. “That’s just summat I thought you should be knowin’.”
May blinked at that, and raised a quick hand to her eyes. “Thankee’, Sam, dear,” she muttered, rather huskily, and quickly turned back to her packing as Daisy came back into the room, Sam’s mysterious parcel in her hands.
“Why did you want us to hold this for you, Sam” she asked curiously, examined the twine and cloth wrapped parcel.
“It’s my present for Frodo for my birthday,” Sam answered, with an unusually quick blush. “If you’d not mind carrying it back, I’d be that grateful. It doesn’t weigh that much, but if I carry it, he’s likely to be curious. He won’t ask aught if he thinks it’d be yours.”
“Some rare plant, I’ll warrant,” May eyed the long narrow parcel, as she turned back again to face the other two, all traces of emotion once again hidden.
“Not a’that rare, ‘tis but a rose,” Sam protested with a smile.
“A rose? But Sam, you have Bag End fair surrounded in roses,” Daisy exclaimed. “Why would you be wanting to bring another back?”
“ ‘Tis pure white,” Sam explained softly, reaching out a hand to reverently touch the wrapping, “an’ that color isna easy to find.”
“That would be an odd color to want,” Daisy persisted, watching Sam carefully. “ ‘Tis no color at all.”
“Red and white together,” Sam replied softly, as if reciting a lesson learned. “True love together forever.” May gave a dramatic look upwards at that, and left the other two, to go straighten up the bedding, but Daisy gave her brother a warm smile.
“Sounds like something you’ve read, Samwise,” she answered softly. “What else do the roses say?”
*****
The weather had stayed clear, and the sky was once again an astounding blue as the four travelers left on the road from the Great Smials. Snow was still drifted against the edges of the road, but there was only enough of it left in the road to provide a satisfying crunch under their feet as they walked.
“May, dear, what ever happened with that nice young Lar?” asked Daisy as she walked in front with her sister, companionably arm in arm.
Sam’s voice came from behind them. “He had t’be leaving, but I don’t think he’ll be stayin’ in his position all that much longer. An’ I believe he knows where you live, May.”
“Sam!” May turned around to him in a scolding voice but with a smile on her face. “Evesdroppin’ again.”
Sam shrugged complacently, and let the two lasses walk ahead. He heard Frodo’s chuckle, at his side, and let his arm find a willing Frodo’s waist. Stopping for just a moment, he dared a quick kiss and was rewarded by Frodo’s arm finding his waist as well when they set off again.
“Mmm,” Sam chuckled quietly. “Let’s hope for a crowded inn again tonight.”
“Won’t matter,” Frodo gave him a tender smile, but with something about it that made Sam’s breath catch. “I really don’t think excuses are necessary any more. Let the lot of them think as they like.”
*****
That afternoon, on her pillow, Pearl Took found a carefully colored drawing of a blush rose. And neatly lettered underneath, above Daisy’s name, the meaning. “If you love me, you will find it out.” With a smile, she gazed out of the window, not even seeing the melting snow and warming earth, and held it tightly to her breast.
*points up to music choice*
Just in case you don't know that song, (totally F/S in my mind), here are the lyrics:
The Twelfth of Never
You ask how much I need you
Must I explain
I need you oh my darling
Like roses need rain
You ask how long I'll love you
I'll tell you true
Until the twelfth of never I'll still be loving you
Hold me close
Never let me go
Hold me close
Melt my heart like April snow
I'll love you 'till the blue bells forget to bloom
I'll love you 'till the clover has lost its perfume
I'll love you 'till the poets run out of rhyme
Oh, until the twelfth of never
And that's a long long time
Until the twelfth of never
And that's a long long time
(Words & music by Livingstone - Webster)
Recorded: 1970/06/04, first released on That's the Way It Is, by Cliff Richards
Title: A Rose For My Love, Part Five
Author: Elderberry Wine
Pairing: F/S, D/P
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Some emdings are more happy than others, and the name of the fic is finally explained.
Sam carefully lifted Frodo’s hand, from where it lay across his chest, and laying it back down on the coverlet, swung his legs to the side of the bed. Frodo’s steady breathing quickened for a moment, but then settled back into an even pace. Fondly, Sam gazed down at the tousled dark curls, the luxurious dark lashes highlighted against the pale cheek, the slender yet strong arm now over the coverlet, and listened to the steady light snore. For as much as Frodo might deny it, Sam knew full well that that regular sound could be called nothing but. As tempting as that warm and persuasive body was though, there was something that had been nagging at Sam, and he needed to consider it. And it wasn’t too likely that he’d be considering anything but Frodo, as long as he stayed abed. Noiselessly, he walked to the window, and gazed unseeingly out at the hazy obliquely lit world without.
It was Lar, and it wasn’t, that had him disturbed. For the first time, last night, he had suddenly realized the predicament that Lar was probably in. But what bothered him even more, he had to admit to himself, was Lar’s implication that he was in a similar situation, only differentiated by a kinder master. It was as if those words, those looks, which floated about him in Hobbiton, had been abruptly and unequivocally directed at him. And now it was suddenly a matter that he could not avoid facing. He had been made unexpectedly aware of the manner in which others saw him, and he realized that he had never really faced the appearance of his situation before.
But once he considered Bracegirdle and his servant, and the gap in his own life between the reality of what truly was, and the assumptions of what was thought, the errors of those assumptions were quite clear to him. For, of course, it wasn’t the same at all, no matter the impression others might have. There had never been any sort of demand from Frodo, never any asking for what had not been already freely given, and there had never been any gain in it for Sam himself, except in the way of something for which there could be no price, Frodo’s heart. Turning, he walked back to their bed, and stared down at Frodo. He had to admit, that not only was there little worldly benefit to him, but there was much in the way of loss, to his name and his standing within the small world of Hobbiton. And, of course, it never had mattered, and never would. His heart had been given to the hobbit who lay asleep before him, and all the mornings of the world would pass away before that could ever change. His will, and his life had been set, and now lay before him in paths that he had once never dreamed of. Even though he was still a tween and, some would say, too young to yet know his mind, he had no doubt that he would ever want to change any of this.
However, his bare skin was beginning to feel the chill of the early morning air, and the warm place next to Frodo was too tempting. He’d have to worry about Lar later. Carefully, he lifted the blanket, and slipped in next to Frodo. With a gentle sigh and a sleepy murmur, Frodo turned, in his sleep, to Sam, and wrapped an unconscious arm tightly about him, his leg reaching up and winding about Sam’s. Sam smiled tenderly at that, and folding Frodo gently into his embrace, fell thankfully back into sleep once again.
*****
It was an insistent knock on their door that awoke Frodo. At first, it seemed as if it was the gentle tap to let them know that the first breakfast tray was without, in the hall. But the knock repeated itself, and Frodo groggily became aware that either the staff had become somewhat adamant that their warm meals be properly appreciated, or it was someone else. The third time decided it, and Frodo rose from their cozy bed with an annoyed yawn, as Sam continued to sleep soundly. Blearily glancing around the room for something to wrap himself in, his eye fell upon his cloak, carelessly tossed over one of the chairs, and it was swathed in this, that he answered the door.
It was Merry in the doorway, completely dressed, as if for traveling. “Oh,” he murmured, looking rather disconcerted. “I didn’t think…”
Frodo smiled drowsily at his cousin’s consternation, running a hand through his own wayward curls. “I suppose we are running rather late this morning, after all. I’d ask you in, but Sam’s still asleep,” he added, motioning toward the bed, where indeed Sam was only half-covered and rather sprawled, breathing quite steadily and obviously sound asleep.
“Oh,” Merry repeated, just a trifle uncomfortably. “I just wanted to let you know that we’re getting ready to leave, and I wanted to say good-bye.”
“So soon?” Frodo asked in dismay, his cloak starting to slip down a bare shoulder.
Merry nodded, glancing down at his feet. “Mother wants to be getting back, and my father can’t stay away that long, either.”
“Well, hold on then, just let me get dressed, and wake up Sam, and we’ll both be out in no time.”
Merry nodded again, saying no more, and turning, quickly left down the hall, with a concerned Frodo watching him leave.
*****
Frodo, with Sam dutifully following, quickly met up with the Brandybucks and their entourage, preparing to leave in the snowdrift covered front courtyard. The snow was continuing to fall, but at a steady pace, and visibility was sufficient. There were, of course, no guaranties that these conditions would continue. Pippin and his father were there as well, and Pippin was standing quite close to Merry, a downcast look on his face.
“Frodo,” called out Saradoc, upon seeing them arrive. “I wonder if I might have a word with you, lad.” He beckoned to Frodo, and Frodo went to where the older hobbit was standing, near the ponies, stamping and huffing in the frosty air.
Paladin was there as well, with a rather worried look on his face. “I do wish you’d stay a bit longer, Sara,” he was muttering as Frodo walked up. “There’s really no need to be off in all of this,” he added, waving one hand out, as the other was quite unconsciously stroking the ponies’ noses in a soothing manner.
“I know,” Saradoc sighed, shaking his head, “But Esme is in a proper fuss, and if we stay any longer, well, you know, Pal. I don’t know what it is about this place that gets her back up so, but that’s how it is.”
“Aye, she’s always been like that,” Paladin agreed reluctantly. “Gets her mind made up, and there’s no budging her. But you take care, now, and try to get her to stop at that inn I was telling you about.”
Saradoc nodded, and then turned to Frodo, who had been silently standing by during this exchange. “Frodo,” he said seriously, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Do try to come by, for Merry’s sake. I don’t want him to, well, I’d prefer that he follow your example rather than any of the others Esme tries to stick him with. Somehow, you’ve turned out all right, Frodo, although I suppose you can thank Bilbo for that far more than us. No,” he continued, as Frodo shook his head. “You know I’m right. And you needn’t come alone, no matter what she says.”
“I know, Saradoc, and I thank you for that,” Frodo answered firmly, “but I’d rather not put myself, and especially Sam, in that situation. But of course, Merry is very welcome at Bag End whenever he wishes. As are you,” he added, with the beginnings of a sly grin. “Should Brandy Hall become occasionally a little… stuffy, shall we say?”
Saradoc gave out an unexpected snort of laughter at Frodo‘s comment, and clapped Frodo on the shoulder, as Paladin looked on with a grin. “Well said, lad,” he chuckled. “You do have a point, come to think of it. And one I won’t be forgetting, I promise you.”
In the meanwhile, Merry was standing silently next to a clearly unhappy Pippin, his face withdrawn and gazing downward. It wasn’t until his mother started to approach the carriages that were being secured to the stout ponies, that he turned to Pippin and silently gave him a fierce hug. He then turned to Sam, who had been standing quietly by the side wall, and reached out his arms to give him a hug as well. Sam, slightly startled by the gesture, returned it almost hesitantly just as Esme walked past them.
“Merry,” came a distinctly sharp reprimand. “Kindly watch yourself.” And she walked past without looking back.
“Watch what?” came Merry’s instantaneous curt retort, as he turned, still in Sam’s diffident embrace. His hand slipped down, and firmly caught hold of Sam’s.
Esme whirled around at that, sharp circles of red on her cheeks, and her mouth drawn down with disapproval. “We’ve already discussed this, Meriadoc.”
“I’ve nothing to say to you regarding your choice of friends,” Merry replied abruptly, his brows narrowing. “I’d thank you to extend me the same courtesy.”
“Merry, it’s all right,” came Sam’s nearly inaudible reassurance, but Esme turned on him furiously.
“I believe you’d be forgetting that Master Brandybuck is your superior, hobbit,” she snapped at that, glaring furiously at Sam. “Kindly keep that fact in mind. You’d better not be making as free with the rest of hobbit gentry as you do your master.”
Merry’s face flamed instantly at her cutting words. “Sam was speaking to me, not you, I believe,” he bit off the words angrily. “And I’d prefer my friends to address me by my name.”
“Oh, pardon me,” Esme turned again, and walked away, her face suddenly cold and disdainful. “I hadn’t realized that you had resorted to the help. In the carriage, Meriadoc, we are leaving now.”
Merry wordlessly turned back to Sam, his face now pale with emotion. “Don’t you worry none,” Sam murmured to him, his heart suddenly wrung with pity for the future Master of Brandy Hall. He gave Merry’s hand a slight squeeze before releasing it and stepping back. “I’d be right glad to see you again, any time.”
Merry blinked, and nodded slightly, and then turned once more to Pippin.
“Don’t go,” Pippin whispered, anguish clear on his face, reaching a hand out toward Merry’s sleeve.
But Merry bowed his head, and then lifted it with a resolute expression and a determined lift of his chin. “I must,” he replied briefly. “But I’ll be seeing both of you soon.”
He turned abruptly then, and walked over to where Frodo stood next to his father. Frodo, who had not heard the exchange between Merry and his mother, gave him a concerned look, startled by the naked emotions on Merry’s face. But Merry said nothing, and encircled his cousin in his arms, closing his eyes and holding on desperately. Frodo held him tightly as well, and stroking his back lovingly, murmured something into Merry’s ear for him alone to hear. Saradoc watched for a moment, both sadness and sympathy suddenly evident in his expression, but then he laid a gentle hand on Merry’s shoulder.
“We must go, son,” he said firmly, and the carriages and ponies were soon gone, heading through the misting snow back to Buckland.
Paladin had turned back into the Great Smials when Frodo, worry and dismay clear on his face, found Pippin and Sam standing together against the rough brick wall of the courtyard. Before he could ask though, Pippin gave a ragged gulp, and hands in his pockets and head down, started to stumble away out into the snowy fields, away from the smial, away from the both of them. Frodo, now doubly concerned, glanced over to Sam who, as if coming to a decision, squared his shoulders and with a troubled look at Frodo, nodded toward Pippin’s disappearing figure. “We’d best stay with him,” he murmured, and that was enough for Frodo. Together, they followed the distraught teen.
*****
It was to the winepress, as Frodo had suspected, that Pippin headed. But the snow had drifted up quite deeply around the door during the last day, and Frodo and Sam found Pippin futilely kicking it away, and unsuccessfully tugging at the stout wooden door, when they caught up with him. “Here, Pip,” Frodo said softly, coming up behind his young cousin, “let us give you a hand with that.”
Pippin said nothing, but glared at the immobile door, handle in his hand, as if it were alone responsible for all that was wrong, but Sam, quietly walking up behind Frodo, could see the tracks of tears glistening on the young hobbit’s cheeks. He bent down, without comment, and began to scoop away the snow piled about the door with his hands. It did not take long to free the door, and Pippin finally flung it open.
The shed was icy cold, and it seemed forever to Sam before Pippin finally located a tinderbox, and with shaking hands, lit the remnants of kindling that had been left from the last time they had been here, a couple of days ago. Sam busied himself by looking about the shed for more wood, and finally discovering a stack of relatively dry logs, concerned himself with getting the fire properly started. Frodo, however, was watching Pippin, and once Pippin had replaced the tinderbox, silently held out his arms to him. With a gasping sob, Pippin was in them, and the two hobbits sank to the ground before the fire, Pippin now with his arms tightly around Frodo and sobbing into his weskit, and Frodo, his face drawn with concern, gently stoking Pippin’s back, as he had earlier stroked Merry’s, and rocking him slightly to comfort him. Sam sat down over to the side of the other two, and wordlessly stared into the flames.
Eventually, though, Pippin’s sobs settled down into the occasional hiccup, and a rather runny nose. Frodo, familiar with the procedure, silently produced a handkerchief, and Pippin gave a hearty blow and settled back, still well wrapped in Frodo’s arms. “And now,” Frodo said softly, nonchalantly stuffing the cloth back into his pocket. “What has produced all this? Something to do with Merry, I suspect, from the farewell he gave me.”
“Aunt Esme,” Pippin’s reply was shaky, and the threat of renewed tears was strong in his voice.
“Well, she’s usually in a bit of a mood by the end of a visit here,” Frodo prodded gently, still continuing to stroke Pippin’s back. “What set her off this time?”
“It was all my doin’,” came unexpectedly from Sam, who was continuing to stare into the flames at their side. “I didn’t think, I wasn’t watchin’ myself as I should.”
“Sam!” came an indignant response from Pippin, as he twisted himself without warning out of Frodo’s arms, and sitting up straight, gave Sam a fierce glare. Startled, Frodo turned toward him too, in time to see a slow flush creep across Sam’s face. “Well, if that just isn’t, isn’t the most…” Pippin spluttered, words clearly failing him. “How can you possibly think any of that was your fault?”
Sam did not look at either of them, but shrugged hesitantly. “Titles mean that much to her,” he stated softly. “There’s no need for me t’be rilin’ her up, just afore they go. I never meant it, it just slipped out, seemingly.”
“Hah.” Pippin continued to glare at Sam. “Too good for her brother and his family, that one, let alone anyone else. She was set on finding some fault, Sam. She always is when she goes. Gives her an excuse to be condescending, and graciously forgive us.”
“But I shouldn’t ha’given her that excuse,” Sam glanced guiltily toward Pippin finally, “because she used it to go after Merry. I’d not be mindin’ if it’d just been me.”
“Well, I certainly would have,” Frodo’s mouth was rather grim as he started piecing together what had happened. “What was Sam’s great crime, anyway, Pip?”
“Oh, he just let Merry give him a good-bye hug,” Pippin turned to Frodo, still indignant. “And then, let’s not forget that he dared call Merry by name. That one really set her off, it did.”
“Ah,” sighed Frodo, understandingly. Scooting slightly closer to Sam, he reached out his hand, and Sam’s was immediately clasped up closely in it. “You don’t understand, Sam,” he said gently. “It wasn’t you at all. Usually it’s either Pippin or myself, you know. It’s the traditional farewell from Aunt Esme.”
Pippin had been staring at the fire through Frodo’s explanation, his brow still knit, but turned to Frodo after his comment, and asked him plaintively, “How can Merry stand it, Frodo? I wish he could come and live with us. It’s just not right that he has to put up with that. I just wish I could do something.”
But Frodo shook his head, and gently hugged Pippin with the hand that was not in Sam’s. “He can bear it, Pippin,” his voice trailed off oddly and both Pippin and Sam turned to look at him. “Once it was me,” he continued softly, gazing at the flames unseeingly. “I never thought I could stand it, either. But I did, for Merry’s sake. I didn’t leave, I didn’t throw myself in the river, I stayed and put up with it, because of Merry. And now Merry puts up with it. Because of you, Pip.” The last words were so soft that Sam hardly heard them, but Pippin was staring at Frodo, his face impossibly young, and yearning.
“He does?” he whispered, his green eyes wide.
“Of course he does,” Frodo replied quietly but firmly, turning to him. “You give him someone to be brave for. And that’s very important, you know.”
Pippin settled thoughtfully against Frodo and said no more, and Sam sat next to them, Frodo’s hand still warm around his, and considered the mysteries of family.
*****
It was the prospect of elevensies that finally drove them from the by-now cozy shed, both Frodo and Sam having missed both breakfasts. But as they walked through the softly swirling snow on their way back to the smial, Sam mentioned that he ought to eat in the servant’s hall, and see if he could find his sisters. Frodo nodded rather absently, his mind still on Merry, and he and Pippin entered through the Great Smial’s grand front door, on their way to the front room where the Took family’s repast was already spread out.
Sam had another errand in mind first, though. He hated to disturb the Took estate gardeners on Yule Day itself, but they had especially assured him the day before that he was to pay the day no mind, and find them whenever he was ready.
So it was that Sam entered the large, warm servant’s hall with a long parcel, well wrapped in sacking and loosely tied up with twine. Looking about, he saw Daisy and May at the far end of the hall, tucked in a corner, and having a rather animated conversation. It wasn’t until he was nearly up to them that they both glanced over at him, and the conversation came to an abrupt halt. Daisy had far more color in her cheeks than normal, and she quickly stood up as Sam approached. “Oh, Sam, you’d not be havin’ a thing to eat,” she exclaimed, in a curiously hurried voice. “And no more have we. I’ll fetch us all a bite.” And she quickly left.
Sam, pulling up a chair, sat down with the odd feeling that there was something happening here, of which he was quite ignorant. The look May was giving him was indecipherable, but seemed to be demanding a response nonetheless. “Well,” he said as he sat there, realizing that statement to be wholly inadequate, but knowing that it would prompt May into some sort of response, and knowing his sister, more than likely an irritable one.
He was correct. “Well, yourself, Samwise Gamgee,” May snapped at him. “Is that all you’d have to be sayin’?”
Sam sighed, and carefully laid his bundle down next to the chair. For the life of him, he’d never been able to figure lasses out. “Tell me, May,” he prompted patiently. “There’s summat up, but what it is, I’d have no idea.”
May narrowed her eyes at that. “Well, if you’d look about a bit from time to time instead of staring at a certain someone as if he were all the moon and stars wrapped up together, you’d might notice that there’s more goin’ on about this place.” Sam stared at her, dumbfounded at that remark, but May glanced over to Daisy, who was returning with a laden dish on one hand and a teapot in the other.
Plopping the plate into Sam’s lap, and the pot on a small table next to him, she exclaimed hastily, “Oh, the cups, I’ll just be going for them,” and was gone before Sam or May could utter a word.
“I’m not going to be doin’ it for her,” May muttered, more to herself than Sam, “no matter how many trips she makes.” And to Sam’s further mystification, she crossed her arms over her chest and stared stonily at Daisy, who gave her a quick imploring look as she retuned with her hands full of teacups and a honey pot.
“I believe there’s summat you’d have to be tellin’ Sam about.” May’s voice was stern, and Daisy sank into her seat looking, to Sam’s amazement, distinctly nervous.
“Yes, well, I mean to be sayin’, that is,” Daisy was obviously floundering now, and Sam watched her with astonishment, but also with the most peculiar notions starting to go through his mind. “You know that summer, a couple of years back, when I tried to talk some sense into you, Sam?” Daisy was now staring fixedly at her hands, clasped tightly in her lap, and quite unmistakably blushing. “Well, I was dead wrong. And you were right. It is worth it all, and there’s no point to being sensible about such matters, no ways.”
Quite suddenly, the picture of Daisy entering the Great Hall the other night in Pearl’s company, and the expression that had been on his sister’s face, flashed into Sam’s mind, and he blurted out, “Pearl Took? You? And Pearl Took?”
Daisy’s face became almost impossibly bright at Sam’s guess, and the soft grunt he heard from May decidedly confirmed it. “Tell ‘im,” came May’s voice, with a distinctly uncompromising tone to it, as Sam stared dumbfounded at his oldest sister, who was by now unconsciously twisting tightly at a corner of her skirt, and staring furiously at the teapot on the table next to them. A fleeting thought ran through his mind that he had never really seen Daisy nervous or apprehensive about what he might think, but that was exactly what he saw before him now. It was that, that made Sam’s feelings for his sister suddenly lurch in sympathy, knowing all too well how it felt to face the disdain of others for the crime of following one’s heart, rather than one’s head.
“Tell me about it, Daisy,” he said, in a soft voice, as May gave an unreadable sigh next to him. Daisy quickly shot him a grateful sideways glance, and her hands began to calm themselves.
“ ‘Twas when she was stayin’ at Bag End,” she replied in a low voice. “I can never tell you how, for I’d not know myself. And I wasn’t even a’that certain when we came here. But now, we’d both be sure of it.” She stopped for a moment and her face was suddenly wistful. “But I don’t know how we’ll manage it,” she added sadly. “Pearl has no place of her own, and no more do I. An’ her getting married is important to her family. As for me, there’s Da. But I do know,” she looked quickly up at both her brother and sister with an almost fierce glint in her eyes, “that it’s real. For both of us.”
“Then the way will come,” Sam said after a moment’s silence, with a firm authority in his voice. “And whatever I can do for you Daisy, dear, I will.” Gently, he reached over and took up her hand in his. “And I’m that happy for you both, love,” he smiled suddenly at her, “for there’s nothing more glorious than that.”
The tension vanished from Daisy’s face as she returned his smile thankfully. “Aye, ‘tis at that,” she agreed happily.
“Like as not,” May pointed out rather grumpily beside the two of them. “But fine words alone will naught be gettin’ you what you want. Luckily for the pair o’ye, there’s one practical Gamgee about.”
*****
The benches were beginning to be pushed aside in preparation for the afternoon dancing when Frodo and Pippin quietly entered the hall. But Pippin’s appearance called for much in the way of merry greetings and hearty cheers, for the young Took heir was a great favorite with all in the hall. Frodo quietly made his way to where Sam stood near May, Daisy having earlier disappeared once more. May had been searching for a sign of the young Hoarfoot, since she had begun to enjoy his company greatly, but as of yet, there had been no sight of him.
Frodo didn’t need to say a word though, as Sam sensed him near, and turned suddenly about with a warm smile on his face and Frodo’s name on his lips. May couldn’t help but notice the entirely open manner in which Frodo reached out and caught up Sam’s hand in his own, and the look of quiet happiness that lit her brother’s face. With a quick glance back at May, and Sam’s words, “Don’t forget, May, dear, it’s under my chair,” the pair were gone, rescuing Pippin from his admirers on the way out.
As they left the hall though, they passed by the great door to the kitchen courtyard that generally stood open during the day, as the serving hobbits came and went on their errands and chores. There wasn’t much traffic today however, for on Yule, only the most essential of tasks were done, and Frodo stopped short before the doorway. “Look,” he pointed outdoors to the other two.
They stopped as well, and stared out, for truly it was a lovely sight. The snow had come to a halt, and within the last hour or so, the clouds had all been brushed away, and the afternoon sun shone in a brilliantly blue sky. “Let’s go out,” Frodo smiled with delight. “We’ve been shut up in here entirely too long.”
With a pleased laugh, Pippin grabbed up some well-worn old jackets that hung nearby for the convenience of folk as they came and went. “No one will be needing these today. Let’s not bother to go back for our own coats.” That was agreeable to the other two, and in a moment, they were out.
It was a rare and glorious afternoon. After so many days of dim light and snowing mist, the sun was nearly blinding in its intensity, and reflected in sparkling rays off of the softly rounded drifts of fresh unspoiled snow. Walking out into it with glee, Pippin laughed at the crunch of it under his feet, and began to run, until he stepped knee-deep into a particularly high drift, and fell forward with a muffled thump.
Frodo, following behind at a slightly more sedate pace, chuckled at that. “Pip, you silly goose,” he said fondly, “do you have any idea where you’re going?”
“No,” Pippin declared joyfully, jumping up and spinning himself around, deliberately allowing himself to fall back in a thick drift, “and it really doesn’t matter.”
“Snowbirds,” Frodo heard Sam’s voice murmur behind him, and he looked over his shoulder with a grin.
“Snow birds, Sam?” he asked, curious. He glanced up in the sky, but there was no sign of any type of bird in all that bright blue. Behind him, he could hear Sam’s chuckle.
“Snowbirds. You’d not know about them?” Sam looked at the two gentle hobbits in amusement, as Pippin gave his head a mystified shake as well. “Well, now. Think of that,” they heard him mutter, as he passed by both of them. They had stopped in a wide snowy field, past the courtyards, but Sam saw what he needed not far ahead, and made his way to it.
It was a stump, slightly higher than the surrounding snow, and Sam climbed up and stood on the top of it, facing Frodo and Pippin. “Snowbirds,” he repeated, rather officially, and then to their amazement, let himself fall flat back into the snow, moving his arms up and down as he did so. Frodo and Pippin walked over as Sam lay placidly there waiting for them. Lifting his arms in the air, he explained, “It comes out better if you don’t get up on your own.”
Frodo laughed, and caught hold of one of Sam’s arms, and Pippin, the grin on his face showing he understood as well, grabbed the other. With a nod of his head to Pippin, Frodo declared, “Now!” and with a sharp tug, Sam was brought directly to his feet.
Turning around carefully, Sam stared proudly at the impression he had left in the snow, the movement of his arms having created the effect of wings. “Now that,” he declared, with a pleased nod, “would be a snowbird.”
Of course, nothing must do, but Pippin had to try it next. Laughing, they examined the impression that he left, but he was still too light for it to show up that well. “Havin’ a bit of weight is a good thing for snowbirding,” Sam laughed sympathetically at Pippin’s crestfallen expression.
But then Pippin glanced back up with a suddenly cheerful look. “Perhaps I should hold onto a rock the next time,” he grinned. “Although it might be a little difficult to find one under this…” his voice trailed off as he surveyed the snow-covered fields. “But I think I remember some over there,” and he was off, wading determinedly through the knee-deep drifts.
Frodo watched him go with a warm smile, and then turned to Sam. “Well, I know I have more weight than Pip,” he chuckled, “so let’s see how well I can do.” Leaping atop the stump, he turned so that his back was facing a section of unspoiled snow. Then, with his arms outstretched, and his eyes locked on Sam’s, he let himself fall trustingly backwards. But it seemed to Sam that he floated more than fell, a graceful falling with no awkwardness or uncertainty to it whatsoever, confident and secure in the knowledge that he would be held, and not hurt, by the snow below him. Indeed, Sam would not have been surprised to find that Frodo had left no impression at all, so light had appeared his fall.
He walked to where Frodo lay laughing, with his arms stretched up, and grasping them both in his own, gave a pull and suddenly Frodo was in his arms, snow-flecked dark curls, cheeks glowing from the frosty air, and merry eyes burning as bright as the blue sky above them. It was impossible not to tighten his grasp, not to lean slightly forward to reach that lovely mouth with his own, not to let his body lean into the other, feeling the length of it fit against his with a sweet willing familiarity. But Frodo answered his kiss with a pleased hum deep in his throat, a firm arm around Sam’s waist, and his mouth eagerly opened to Sam’s. And then, it mattered not to Sam where they stood, or who saw, or what they might think, for the happiness that surged through his heart was worth any price. It wasn’t until the sound of footsteps methodically plodding through the snow was heard to approach them, that they broke reluctantly apart, and turned to find Pippin, hands in his pockets, standing near them.
There was an odd expression on Pippin’s face, almost as if he had found some new species of wildlife, and was trying to puzzle out exactly what it was. “Pip,” exclaimed Frodo, a little self-consciously, as he brushed the snow off of the back of his trousers, drawing slightly away from Sam. “You’re too young for this.”
“I won’t always be,” Pippin pointed out, with the most reasonable tone in the world in his voice.
Frodo gave him a sharp look then. “No,” he answered slowly, “I suppose not.” Reaching up to his hair, he brushed the snow out of his curls thoughtfully. “Well, I know I wouldn’t mind some tea,” he changed the topic briskly, and Pippin laughed.
“Don’t worry, Frodo,” he assured him cheerfully. “I won’t try anything on Merry quite yet.” And he was off, striding through the deep snow with a confident stride.
“I’m sure Merry will find that a relief,” Frodo muttered to Sam wryly, as they followed the teen. Sam chuckled, but couldn’t help a quick glance back at where Frodo had fallen. The light wind was picking up a bit, as the afternoon had begun to chill, and a quick gust dusted the snow across the elusive impression Frodo’s body had made. It was nearly gone, as if it had never been.
*****
“You and Sam will both be there, right?” had been Pippin’s parting words, as they had separated to ready themselves for the Yule dinner. He had been nearly out of sight before he called back, “Oh, and Sam! Your sisters too, of course. Just family, you know.”
Sam had turned to Frodo in puzzlement as he shut the door of their room on the retreating figure of Pippin. “Yule night is just for family here,” Frodo explained with a fond smile, as he took off his jacket and began to rummage through his pack for a last clean shirt. “The guests and others all gather in groups all about the place, but the family has dinner together in Uncle Paladin’s study. And since I’m family, of course you are as well. And your sisters, so you’d best let them know.”
Sam gave a guilty start at that, realizing that one sister at least was perhaps more family than Frodo knew, but held his tongue on that score. That wasn’t the type of news to be casually mentioning right before they joined the rest of the family, and he also thought it best to wait and see how the lasses handled it. Leaving Frodo to change, he set off to his sisters’ room to inform them of the plans for the evening. He was already wearing his best, anyway.
The cozy wood-paneled room, although large enough, was quite a contrast to the vast Great Hall, more welcoming than imposing. Sam recognized most of the hobbits gathered there, as being Pippin’s direct family, but Frodo also made sure that he was introduced to the few others that were unknown to him, such as Everard Banks, Eglantine Took’s brother, and his family, and Lilly Grubb, Paladin’s widowed sister, and her three sons. A cold buffet had been spread out that afternoon, to allow the cooking staff the evening to themselves, but there was more than ample food for the hobbits gathered comfortably before the fire. There was, in addition, an abundant supply of both beer and wine, as well as tea, and in no time at all, Sam was comfortably seated next to Frodo on a well-cushioned bench, a heaped plate next to each on small tables at either end, and a very fine bottle of Old Winyards to be shared between the two of them. Pippin had spread himself out, with more than one plate, on the rug in front of them, and was contently using Frodo’s legs as a backrest.
Sam glanced over to the corner of the room next to the fire, where both of his sisters, as well as Pearl, were engrossed in a rather intense conversation. He was undeniably curious, but seeing as May was involved, he knew he’d be hearing the result of it soon enough. The two younger Grubb lads were seated in front of the fire, endeavoring to roast and peel chestnuts nearly simultaneously, without scorching their fingers, and Eglantine and Lilly were seated across the room in comfortable chairs, Paladin contently sandwiched in between, and carrying on an amused debate as to whether it was easier to raise lasses or lads.
Frodo, who had just polished off a large roll piled rather high with ham, to Sam’s quiet delight, looked about after taking a sip of his wine, and mentioned to Pippin, “Don’t tell me we managed to escape the Bracegirdle. He must be plaguing some other unfortunate group.”
“Oh, no,” Pippin shook his head and popped another pickled mushroom into his mouth. “He’s gone. I heard there was hearty cheering as he left.”
“Well, that’s good news,” Frodo said thankfully. “I certainly would rather see him a day ahead of us on the road, so we don’t have to share an inn with him again. Pity about the way he treats that poor servant of his, though.”
“And that’s why Dad wouldn’t sell him any ponies,” Pippin reminded his cousin, wiping a piece of bread energetically about on his plate. “But he said the Bracegirdle owns all the Hoarfoot family land, and makes sure they’re never able to buy it themselves. There’s no other work to be had in those parts, either. Dad told me, though, that Bracegirdle only likes young hobbits to wait on him, so he’ll be looking for a new one soon, I expect. Older hobbits probably aren’t as easy to keep in line.”
As Pippin casually spoke, however, Frodo suddenly felt Sam stiffen at his side, and glanced curiously over to him. With concern, he noticed that Sam’s expression was closed off and withdrawn. But before he could say anything, Everard Banks’ youngest daughter had dragged the two younger Grubb lads in front of him and were all staring intently at Frodo. “He’s the one,” she pointed out, with the air of showing off a prize cabbage. “He knew Bilbo Baggins.”
Distracted from Sam, Frodo gave a chuckle as the three young hobbits stared solemnly at him. Across the room, Lilly Grubb called out with a laugh, “Forgive the little ones, Frodo. They think that Bilbo was some sort of mythical creature.”
“Why of course he wasn’t,” Frodo replied with a warm smile at the trio. “He was a Baggins, just like me, except much more brave and famous, of course.”
“Did you really know him, sir?” asked the oldest Grubb lad, joining his brothers, and looking at Frodo with wonder.
“First off, it’s Frodo, you know, not sir. Don’t make me feel like your old grandfather, now,” Frodo good-naturedly chided them. “And of course I knew him. He was my cousin, actually, but I called him my uncle. And he adopted me to live with him at Bag End. But my friend, Sam, here, and his sisters, why, they knew him longer than I did, really.”
Giving Sam a quick glance, he was glad to see that Sam had shaken off his odd mood, whatever the cause of it had been, and now was affably smiling at the youngsters as well. Sam started a bit at Frodo’s mention of himself, but then chuckled and softly added, “Aye, that I did. Since I was a fauntling. I was his gardener, as was my da afore me.”
“Bilbo Baggins’ gardener!” breathed one of the lads in awe. “Oh, you’re so lucky! Did you ever see his treasure? Did dwarves ever come to visit him?”
Frodo gave Sam an amused side-glance. “Do you ever remember seeing dwarves about the place, Sam? The occasional wizard perhaps, but I never remember seeing a dwarf.”
“Aye, to be sure,” Sam agreed, with an air of matter-of-factness. “No dwarves. Just a wizard.”
Paladin had been watching this exchange from across the room with unconcealed delight. “Face it, Frodo,” he called over to him, “you are also the official heir of all of Bilbo’s stories. And you have a new generation here to enlighten.”
Pippin, seated to the side of the three young hobbits, laughed at the thought. “Oh, you don’t want to hear tales of boring old Bilbo,” he teased them affectionately. “They’re just all full of nonsense like dragons and elves and trolls and no end of other dreary things. Who can believe any of all that?”
His youngest niece gave him a severe look. “Uncle Pip,” she said sternly. “If Uncle Frodo says it’s true, why, so it is.” She plunked herself on the rug directly in front of Frodo, obviously settling in for the evening, as her cousins meekly made themselves comfortable about her.
“Well,” Frodo gave her an amused glance, “I believe I’ve received my orders. But Sam and Pip must be sure to tell me anything I forget, for they’ve heard these stories as often as I.” And with another sip of his wine, he began.
Sam listened to Frodo’s voice as it began to paint pictures of things fair and foul, times long since past, and bravery and courage. Dreamily, he let the words wind about him, and unleash his imagination. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that Pearl’s mother had joined the conversation that Pearl was having with his sisters, but at the moment, he could spare no thought for anything but the tales Frodo was weaving. Not for the first time, he wondered if he and Frodo would ever set off on the path that Bilbo had taken, would ever find themselves in those strange and wonderful lands. Part of him was terrified by the thought, but there was another part of his heart that whispered in his dreams, of enchantment and beauty far from the Shire.
*****
It was very late as Frodo and Sam finally walked through the corridors of the Great Smial. The candles in their sconces along the walls were guttering low, and indeed, many of them had already gone out. They walked closely together, Frodo’s arm over Sam’s shoulders, and Sam’s arm around Frodo’s waist. It had been a long evening, but a merry one, and Sam was in no mind for sleep. Causing them both to stop before the door of the bathroom, not far from their room, which he remembered from the afternoon before, he turned to Frodo, his eyes dark in the candlelight. “Are you that sleepy yet, Frodo-love?” he murmured huskily, thoughts of their all too hasty bath of the day before in his mind.
But Frodo smiled slowly, reading Sam’s thoughts, and whispered, “Not here, Sam. Let me show you.” Taking Sam by the hand then, he drew him past their room, further and further into the maze that was the Great Smials, until at last they were before an ancient wooden door, “This is the family bath,” Frodo turned to Sam, speaking softly, “but I don’t think they’d mind. They all seemed to be heading to bed when we left, even Pippin. I think we’ll be quite safe.” And he pushed open the door.
The only light in the room came from a series of small windows high up along one wall. It was from them that the frosty glint of moonlight shone into the room, for the evening had remained clear and the light of the pale sickle of the new moon glinted on the surface of dark water in the middle of the room. Frodo took the candle from a sconce in the passageway, and lit two torches that were set against the wall on either side of the door. The room became dimly lit, and Sam could see a large wooden tub sunken well into the ground in the center of the room, with several rows of pale timeworn flagstones ringed about it. Frodo picked out one of the torches from the iron bands that held it to the wall, and walked over to a fireplace that was set in against the windowed wall. He lit the logs, and Sam noticed that there was a large caldron hanging from a hook above the fire.
“Look, Sam,” Frodo replaced the torch, and took up Sam’s hand. “The water automatically fills from a spring deep in the hillside. It‘s sweet, but cold. So when the water in the caldron is heated, one just has to tip it out, and it runs along that sluice and heats up the water in the tub.”
“Well, now,” Sam exclaimed in wonder, examining the tub. “If these Tooks ain’t that clever. I surely would love to see this in a better light.”
“Uncle Paladin would love to show it to you, then,” Frodo laughed softly, “as well as give you the life story of every Took involved. But as for me, I’ve always loved the light in here. Moonlight and candlelight both. Nothing could be lovelier.”
Sam smiled and refrained from the obvious comparison, for it was moonlight, candlelight, and the face before him that he thought was the loveliest. But Frodo had already turned, and was clearing the stacked towels from a small wooden bench to the side of the room. He placed them on a wooden tray that also held a couple of bars of a fragrant soap, making room for the both of them. “Have a seat, Sam,” he looked up at Sam with a smile. “We’ll have to wait for the water to warm. Trust me, you don’t want to be in that water yet.”
Sam sank down on the bench beside him and Frodo picked up one of his hands and, clasping it tightly in his own, studied the both of them, fingers entwined. “What was it at dinner tonight that bothered you?” he asked softly, after a few moments of companionable silence. “It was something to do with Bracegirdle and Lar, wasn’t it?”
“Aye,” said Sam reluctantly, feeling a curious hesitancy in continuing this particular line of conversation.
Frodo was silent for a moment, still staring at their hands, and then added softly, “Bracegirdle obviously uses Lar badly, but is it more than that?”
“Aye,” Sam repeated shortly.
“Did he tell you, Sam?” Frodo turned to him then, his expression unreadable in the faint light. “Why?”
Sam said nothing for several minutes. Then, staring straight ahead, he murmured, “He thought the way o‘it would be the same for me.”
“Oh, Sam,” Frodo replied sadly. Raising Sam’s hand up to his lips, he kissed it tenderly. “I just wish…” he hesitated.
“So do I,” Sam replied, with a rather thick voice. “But there’s nothing for it, Frodo. ‘Tis the way it is in this world, and it can’t be changed none.”
“But there ought to be, Sam,” Frodo said in denial. “There ought to be something I could do.”
“For Lar?” Sam turned to him then. “An’ what could you or I do? That villain owns his family’s land. They’ve nowhere else to go. He knew what working for Bracegirdle would mean. His family would have needed the income. ‘Twas his choice, and he made the best one he could. ‘Tis only time as would be helpin’ him now.”
“And you, Sam?” Frodo’s voice was gentle and he clasped Sam’s hand in both of his.
“Only time will change that, likewise,” Sam gave him a faint smile. “Don’t you ever think that I don’t believe it’s worth it all, Frodo.” Raising his other hand, he brought it to the side of Frodo’s face, and drawing it close to his own, gave him a tender but lingering kiss. “Ah, me dear,” he whispered as they drew apart. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t give for you.”
“Sam, my Sam,” Frodo’s voice was husky as he ran a hand up Sam’s cheek, cradling it tenderly. “There was never any treasure such as you. As long as you’re with me, there’ll never be anything I could want for.”
“Oh, aye, I’ll be with you,” Sam found his mouth again. Passionately, he thrust his tongue into Frodo’s willing mouth, searching and caressing, the joining filling him with heat, until his whole body felt enflamed and engorged. Frodo’s hands had found their way beneath his shirt, and were stroking up his back, pressing him even more tightly.
Dimly though, he knew he had to stop now, or he would not last long. And that was something he definitely planned on tonight. So, with a gasp, he drew apart from Frodo, asking a little breathlessly, “Would that water be hot enough now, d’you think?”
Frodo gave a quick laugh, and stood up. Walking over to the caldron, he peered in, and glanced over his shoulder with a grin. “I believe it’s steaming,” he noted mildly.
“Aye, and it’s not all that is,” Sam muttered under his breath, as he watched Frodo carefully tip the hot water into the sluice. It ran into the cold pool with a great hiss, and a rush of vapor. When the steam had cleared, Frodo cautiously stuck a hand in, and gave Sam a satisfied nod. “Perfect,” he declared.
Sam had no doubt at all on that score. Perfect, indeed, and he had had about enough of waiting. With a few quick movements, his clothing was off, and he was at Frodo’s side. “Ah, Sam,” Frodo said in a low voice, with one hand quickly around Sam’s waist, and another that had unerringly found an extremely sensitive part of Sam’s anatomy. “Have I told you enough how happy you make me?”
“Aye, but don’t stop,” Sam murmured, raising his hands to the buttons on Frodo’s shirt. “Just let me, oh! Frodo-love, how can I when you…”
Frodo laughed, but let Sam finish the shirt, letting go of Sam just long enough to let the shirt slip off his shoulders. The trousers took a little longer to remove, since Sam found it very difficult to address the fastenings only, but at last Frodo was also bare before him.
“Mmm, chilly, don’t you think?” Frodo finally murmured, with a throaty chuckle, after withdrawing his mouth from Sam’s once more. “The water, you know.”
“Right,” Sam agreed absentmindedly, his hands running down Frodo’s smooth, irresistibly rounded backside. But then his glance happened to light on the tray beside the bench, and suddenly water became a very good idea.
Frodo had turned from Sam and stepped into the tub. As was the custom, there was a ledge on which to sit, water at chest-level, around the tub, and it was on this that Frodo stood. Sam, who had quickly snatched up the tray beside the bench while Frodo’s back was turned, placed it beside the edge of the tub and then stepped onto the ledge beside Frodo. The water was hot, but not uncomfortably so, and the fire had begun to take the chill out of the room. With a soft grunt of pleasure, Frodo lowered himself down into the water and was now seated on the ledge, his legs floating out in the water before him, sitting forward just enough to submerge his shoulders and arms. His eyes had closed, and Sam, kneeling on the ledge beside him, marveled at the play of candlelight, firelight, and the faint moonlight, all bathing those lovely pale features in an ethereal glow. Almost, he seemed too lovely to touch, a thing of beauty to only gaze upon and wonder at, until he opened his eyes again, and his direct gaze into Sam’s eyes broke the enchantment that had fallen on him. Frodo was real, most decidedly real, and that smile on his face was telling Sam that his touch would be very much appreciated.
With a quick joyful laugh, Sam swung a leg over Frodo, and turned to face him, straddling him as he sat. Frodo hummed his approval, and with a lingering touch, drew his hands up Sam’s sides and then down his back, ending by cupping Sam and bringing him closer. Sam gave an unsteady sigh then, and slowly brought himself down into Frodo’s lap, nestling Frodo’s erection against his own. Frodo leaned forward at that touch, drawing Sam closer, and began to kiss his way down Sam’s chest, with particular attention at the most sensitive spots.
“Oh, oh, Frodo,” Sam couldn’t help but moan, throwing his head back, and concentrating on not moving too fast, but lingering over the delectable sensation, feeling himself beginning to pulse against Frodo. It was good, wonderfully good, but there was something else that Sam had in mind. He leaned back into Frodo then, his hand reaching blindly out, and grasped the bar of soap from the tray on the stones at the side of the tub.
“Ah, Sam,” came Frodo’s low laugh of approval, and he slid back up out of the water to sit at the edge of the tub, still between Sam’s legs. Quickly, Sam brought the soap up to a lather, the heady aroma of roses beginning to permeate the air, and then lovingly drew his hand over Frodo, caressing and stroking, until Frodo gave a breathless laugh, and cried, “Sam! Hurry, love, or it’ll be too late.” Quickly, he pulled Sam up out of the water, and running his hand between Sam’s legs, sought what he needed.
Sam sucked in a breath as Frodo’s fingers entered him, and let it out in a passionate groan, rocking against Frodo’s hand, urging him in, seeking more. Frodo leaned his forehead on Sam’s shoulder and moaned his name fervently. And then, Sam drew himself up from Frodo’s hand, and slowly sank down on Frodo himself, pushing down, pulling him into the water once more, with their eyes locked together in frank celebration of their mutual desire.
It was Sam, then, who set the pace, who rocked hard against Frodo, who, when nearly at the brink, slowed again, who made sure that Frodo’s hands were against the side of the tub and not on him, so as to last longer, who seized every clue, every nuance of Frodo’s response, and answered it skillfully and ardently. And all the while, he sighed and murmured, “Ah, Frodo, ah, me love, dearest heart,” and Frodo let himself be carried beyond all thought and reason until at last he surged upward with a great cry and groan, and calling Sam’s name out a final time, let his love flow into Sam.
It wasn’t for several moments that he finally caught his breath and realized that Sam still awaited his attentions. With a breathless laugh, he tugged Sam off and upward, taking him in his eager mouth, and nearly instantly tasting Sam’s fervent release. It was only then that they coiled down into each other, still stroking and kissing the other, hearts still racing, and with no words adequate to what they felt. Rocked by the water against Frodo, Sam felt the peace of the quiet room fill him and soothe him, and let Frodo’s touch reveal once again to his heart Frodo’s love for him. The moon had nearly set by the time they reached their room again, and nestled gratefully into each other in their bed.
*****
The next morning, Sam went to his sisters’ room to help them pack. At least, that was the stated reason, but he was also hoping to find out more about the conferences he had witnessed the night before. May let him into their room, where packing up was already in progress, with a most decided look of triumph on her face. Daisy, too, was looking quite cheerful, humming to herself as she randomly stuffed any garment that came within her reach into her bags. Sam took a quick look at both of his sisters and decided there was good news to be told.
“Now, then,” he sat down on a chair, crossing his arms complacently. “The two of you would be havin’ summat to be tellin’ me.”
Daisy laughed at Sam, and spun her way across the room to give a conspicuously patient May a hearty kiss on the cheek. “I’m comin’ back here, and it’s because of my dearest, cleverest sister.”
Sam raised an eyebrow at Daisy’s comment. That was not the opinion she usually expressed of her younger sister.
“Aye, now she calls me that,” May noted, unable to totally keep the laughter out of her voice.
“How so, May?” Sam couldn’t help the surprise in his question. “How did you manage that?”
“Well, Sam, you know the talents our sister has,” May began, starting to look positively smug at this point, to Sam’s eye. “One of them bein’ as a healer. And apparently, that is one thing this vast smial is in need of. Oh, there’s one about, seemingly, but she’d be as green as the grass in spring, and wouldn’t it be just the thing for our Daisy to stay here for awhile, and take her in a bit?”
“Daisy!” Sam exclaimed, rising to give his sister a warm hug, “How wonderful for you!” Daisy blushed and smiled all in one, and without a word, disappeared into the bathroom to retrieve any belongings that might have been left there. But then a sudden thought made Sam pause and turn back to May, after Daisy had gone, with a slight look of apprehension. “And Da?” he asked carefully.
“Well,” May sighed, her expression suddenly dropping a bit. “I expect that would mean me staying with him, or at least for a while.”
“He could put up at Bag End for a bit, if you like,” Sam offered, bravely hiding his fear that this offer would be accepted. “Frodo wouldn’t mind, I know, and the place is plenty big enough.”
May gave him a sharp glance, the hint of a grin peeking through. “Not too likely, Sam,” she replied dryly. “Fortunately enough for you and Mr. Frodo.” Picking up her spare skirt, she began to fold it absentmindedly. “Here I was in always such a hurry to leave, an’ now I’d be the last Gamgee left in the old smial.”
Sam stood up then, and walking up behind her, lay his hands gently on her shoulders. “You’ve had offers, I know, May,” he said softly.
“Oh, offers, aye,” there was a definite tinge of sadness in her words, and she stood still for a moment before turning around and facing him. “But I’ve seen Marigold, Sam, and I’ve seen Daisy, and maybe most of all, I’ve seen you, and the happiness on all your faces. And I’m not willing to settle for just gettin’ out, not any more. I want what all of you have.”
Sam studied her for a moment, and then a slow smile crept across his face. “There’s a lucky hobbit out there,” he murmured, “who will find you someday. An’ somedays you’ll drive him mad, and somedays he’ll think you are the wonder of all the world, but he’ll never be sorry that he fell in love with you.” Leaning forward, he gave her a light kiss on the forehead, and drew back again, his smile deepening. “That’s just summat I thought you should be knowin’.”
May blinked at that, and raised a quick hand to her eyes. “Thankee’, Sam, dear,” she muttered, rather huskily, and quickly turned back to her packing as Daisy came back into the room, Sam’s mysterious parcel in her hands.
“Why did you want us to hold this for you, Sam” she asked curiously, examined the twine and cloth wrapped parcel.
“It’s my present for Frodo for my birthday,” Sam answered, with an unusually quick blush. “If you’d not mind carrying it back, I’d be that grateful. It doesn’t weigh that much, but if I carry it, he’s likely to be curious. He won’t ask aught if he thinks it’d be yours.”
“Some rare plant, I’ll warrant,” May eyed the long narrow parcel, as she turned back again to face the other two, all traces of emotion once again hidden.
“Not a’that rare, ‘tis but a rose,” Sam protested with a smile.
“A rose? But Sam, you have Bag End fair surrounded in roses,” Daisy exclaimed. “Why would you be wanting to bring another back?”
“ ‘Tis pure white,” Sam explained softly, reaching out a hand to reverently touch the wrapping, “an’ that color isna easy to find.”
“That would be an odd color to want,” Daisy persisted, watching Sam carefully. “ ‘Tis no color at all.”
“Red and white together,” Sam replied softly, as if reciting a lesson learned. “True love together forever.” May gave a dramatic look upwards at that, and left the other two, to go straighten up the bedding, but Daisy gave her brother a warm smile.
“Sounds like something you’ve read, Samwise,” she answered softly. “What else do the roses say?”
*****
The weather had stayed clear, and the sky was once again an astounding blue as the four travelers left on the road from the Great Smials. Snow was still drifted against the edges of the road, but there was only enough of it left in the road to provide a satisfying crunch under their feet as they walked.
“May, dear, what ever happened with that nice young Lar?” asked Daisy as she walked in front with her sister, companionably arm in arm.
Sam’s voice came from behind them. “He had t’be leaving, but I don’t think he’ll be stayin’ in his position all that much longer. An’ I believe he knows where you live, May.”
“Sam!” May turned around to him in a scolding voice but with a smile on her face. “Evesdroppin’ again.”
Sam shrugged complacently, and let the two lasses walk ahead. He heard Frodo’s chuckle, at his side, and let his arm find a willing Frodo’s waist. Stopping for just a moment, he dared a quick kiss and was rewarded by Frodo’s arm finding his waist as well when they set off again.
“Mmm,” Sam chuckled quietly. “Let’s hope for a crowded inn again tonight.”
“Won’t matter,” Frodo gave him a tender smile, but with something about it that made Sam’s breath catch. “I really don’t think excuses are necessary any more. Let the lot of them think as they like.”
*****
That afternoon, on her pillow, Pearl Took found a carefully colored drawing of a blush rose. And neatly lettered underneath, above Daisy’s name, the meaning. “If you love me, you will find it out.” With a smile, she gazed out of the window, not even seeing the melting snow and warming earth, and held it tightly to her breast.
*points up to music choice*
Just in case you don't know that song, (totally F/S in my mind), here are the lyrics:
The Twelfth of Never
You ask how much I need you
Must I explain
I need you oh my darling
Like roses need rain
You ask how long I'll love you
I'll tell you true
Until the twelfth of never I'll still be loving you
Hold me close
Never let me go
Hold me close
Melt my heart like April snow
I'll love you 'till the blue bells forget to bloom
I'll love you 'till the clover has lost its perfume
I'll love you 'till the poets run out of rhyme
Oh, until the twelfth of never
And that's a long long time
Until the twelfth of never
And that's a long long time
(Words & music by Livingstone - Webster)
Recorded: 1970/06/04, first released on That's the Way It Is, by Cliff Richards
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Lovely to see these stories, lovely to have them to look forward to. Back asap, and best wishes to you.
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Know what you mean, I can never read anyone else's until I've posted my own. Only one story in my head at a time, you know. *g*
Thanks!
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And this chapter I liked it all but above all the dialogue between May, Sam and Daisy, lovely!
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And so glad it seems real to you, that makes me very happy.
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I'm happy for Daisy and Pearl--and I want to give May a hug for being such a good egg! I'm sad for Lar--and more for his soon-to-be-replacement, poor thing--and Esme's quite the piece of work (I think every family has an Esme of some sort!), but I just wouldn't believe it if everything were all just sweetness and light, even in the Shire.
Liked the interactions between Frodo and Merry and Pippin--and loved your Frodo and Sam. *sigh* Thank you.
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Yes, there usually is an Esme rattling around in any family tree, but someone's got to cause trouble!
Thanks again!
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!!!
That is one of the best teases I've had in a long time! :D
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Ooooh, look. A cute little bunnie has just appeared!
OK, boys, get ready.
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*facepalm*
That's just me wanting to stay in this pre-quest world forever, I guess. But hey, if that inspired a bunny I'm thrilled!
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For me, the key, and most appealing, thing about F/S is that they are in it for the long haul. The very long haul, actually. And that can only happen, IMHO, if the characters are also strong in themselves, and accepting of who the other truly is.
And on poor Merry. What's that saying, what doesn't kill us, strengthens us? No wonder he hangs on to Frodo so.
(And glad you liked the snowbird scene too. I'm quite partial to that one myself.)
Once again, many thanks for your kind words!
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(And Daisy's going back, you know. *w* And there's two other Took lasses I hardly got to, too. And poor May's still roaming about. And whatever happened to Rose, anyway? Ah, the possibilities...)
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However, nice to see there are still plot bunnies hopping around in your head, as further stories would be most welcome!
I agree with you that Frodo might be slim and Elvish looking but why should that make him weak, or a drama queen? The Elves were portrayed as strong! The fact that he doubts and is at times insecure (during the quest) only proves that he has a brain!
I especially love how you portray the Frodo/Sam relationship, and would love it if you could write something further on what you 'hinted at' in this story.
(I at least understood that although Frodo and Sam have an equal partnership, it sort of dawned on Sam that most people have no idea and think Sam is 'servicing' Frodo - could this awareness lead to Sam behaving differently now that he knows? Would be interesting to look at....)
Must go back and re-read the whole story soon now that it is all written.
Again thank you!
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Ah, yes, plot bunnies are everywhere. For instance, Merry isn't quite where I'd like him to be, yet, so there will be something to follow this.
The thing about Sam is that, more so than Frodo, he understands how wrongs can't always be "fixed", as much as you might like to, and there are times when only time and patience will do. This is true not only of Lar's situation, but also his own. And of course, it's a good thing he has learned this early, because there will come a time when he'll be needing all the patience in the world (*sigh*).
It will probably be more Frodo, who has been oblivious to all this up until now, who might behave differently, trying to protect Sam in some way, I think. Hmmmm... *wanders off to ponder this*
Thanks again, especially for prodding the thinking process here!