Seven Heavenly Virtues IV:
Prudence
Orithain and Rina
August 2003
Disclaimers: Sam, Frodo and
everything and everyone else from the Lord of the Rings universe
belongs to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien, Alliance Atlantis, New Line
Cinemas, Wingnut Films and The Saul Zantz Company. No profit is being made,
and no copyright infringement is intended.
~ Prudence: wisdom, vigilance,
carefulness, thoughtfulness, discretion ~
As the owner of Bag End, technically it was Frodo Baggins’
decision what should go into his garden, but in practice, like his cousin
Bilbo Frodo found it much easier to leave it up to the men who worked in the
garden, the Gaffer and Samwise Gamgee. Of course, when Sam had given him
that look as if to say, ‘Mr. Frodo, don’t you care?’ he’d
found himself trailing after the younger Hobbit on his quest for new
seedlings.
Before leaving, as always, he’d warned himself to be
careful, not to treat Sam as anything more than the valued servant and
friend that he was... no matter how much Frodo wanted to claim his lover
publicly. Still, watching Sam compare various plants so seriously, it was
hard not to let his fondness show, not to reach out and touch him
possessively.
Gasping, Frodo snatched back the hand that had nearly made
contact with Sam’s waist, and he darted a nervous look around to see if
anyone had noticed.
Hearing Frodo’s quick intake of breath, Sam turned,
looking at the older Hobbit over his shoulder. "Is something the
matter, sir?" he asked worriedly. His hands were full of young pansies,
but he was ready to drop them in a moment if Frodo needed him.
"No, not at all, I just stubbed my toe," Frodo
replied quickly, the faintest of flushes in his cheeks as he avoided the
stall keeper’s gaze. "Are these for the garden?" he asked,
trying to change the subject.
Not quite believing his lover’s answer but not wanting to
contradict him in public, Sam nodded. "Yessir, they are. I thought they’d
go nice by the path to the gate," he said, offering them up for Frodo’s
inspection.
Frodo reached out to touch one, his fingers not
coincidentally brushing over Sam’s. "They’ll look lovely there.
Thanks to you and your father, my garden is the nicest in all the
Shire."
Sam colored and ducked his head. "I think the soil and
the water’s got a lot to do with it, plus my dad’s hand at it."
"You’re too modest," Frodo protested, placing a
hand on his shoulder and forcing himself to keep it still. "You’re as
good as your father."
"Mr. Frodo, you’ll be making the boy’s head too big
to fit through the doorway," a gruff voice said from behind them,
making both of the younger Hobbits start and causing Sam’s eyes to widen.
"No one’s as good as you, Da," he said quickly,
taking a quick step away from Frodo as they had drifted together while
talking.
Frodo snatched his hand back to his side and turned to face
the Gaffer with a strained smile on his face. "No danger of that,
sir," he replied. "Sam’s too quick to turn away a compliment, no
matter how deserved." He wondered if he could leave Sam to finish his
purchases; the last thing he wanted was to chat with his lover’s father.
"That he is, but that’s as it should be," the
Gaffer replied, pausing to suck on his pipe before continuing. "If I
might have a word with you when it’s convenient, Mr. Frodo? There’s
aught we need to speak about."
Under his tan, Sam’s face paled, and he darted a quick
look at Frodo, then at his father.
Looking as pale as his far-distant Elvish ancestor, Frodo
swallowed audibly and nodded. "Of course, sir. I, er, that is I’m
free now if that’s convenient for you?" He decided that anticipation
would definitely not improve this situation.
"If you aren’t busy here," the elder Hobbit
offered, "that would be grand."
Sam swallowed hard. "I’ll just finish getting these
and take them back to Bag End, Mr. Frodo."
Frodo nodded jerkily before gesturing to Sam’s father.
"After you, sir." He only hoped that the other Hobbit chose a
private location for this conversation if what he feared was about to occur.
"Mind you don’t let those sit in the sun,
Samwise," the Gaffer called as he turned to walk away with Frodo.
Looking over at the young master of Bag End, he narrowed his eyes slightly
and chewed on his pipe stem. "I trust that Sam’s been doing all you
asked of him, Mr. Frodo?" he finally said.
Frodo choked slightly. "Er, yes, he’s done more than
I could ever have imagined," he said carefully.
"Not making a bother of himself, is he?"
"Far from it," Frodo replied stoutly. "I
couldn’t imagine Bag End without him."
"Really now?" The Gaffer puffed on his pipe,
keeping his thoughts to himself as he walked alongside Frodo. "That
would be a good thing, I suppose, considerin’ the number of nights he’s
slept there."
Frodo sighed. "Perhaps we should speak bluntly, sir?
I... care about Sam. He’s my best friend, and we look out for each other.
Anything else is between us so long as we’re both happy."
The older Hobbit arched his eyebrows and gave a small smile.
"And did I say any different? What I was getting to, sir, was the fact
that perhaps it might be better for my Samwise to stay with you permanent
like - so you could look after each other the better."
Jaw dropping, Frodo stopped in his tracks and gaped at the
elder Hobbit. "You... I... that is. Ahem. Yes, well." He cleared
his throat and tried to still his whirling thoughts. "If Sam agrees, I
would like that very much, sir."
The Gaffer nodded to himself as if confirming a notion he’d
had. "I love all my children, sir, and want them to be happy. If
watchin’ out for you makes him happy, then that’s what he should
do." He frowned slightly, "Though there are others who might think
otherwise. Beggin’ your pardon for being so forward, but you’ll have to
keep a watch out."
Frodo blushed crimson. "Yessir," he mumbled, then
sighed. "We do try, it’s just... well. Erm." No way was he going
to tell Sam’s father that he could barely keep his hands off his son!
"Bein’ young has its difficulties," the older
Hobbit commiserated. "I remember them well. In time folk will stop
wonderin’ and gossipin’, never you worry."
"But we’ll still have to be careful," Frodo said
grumpily, then sighed again. "I know I shouldn’t complain, sir, that
I’m luckier than most to have Sam as a, er, friend, but I can’t help
wishing... well, if I were Rosie, we wouldn’t have to be so careful."
"True, but if you were Rosie, then you wouldn’t be
you."
Frodo blinked, then started to laugh. "You sounded just
like Sam just then!"
The Gaffer chuckled and switched his pipe to the other side
of his mouth before removing it. "I’d say, sir, it’s more of a case
of Samwise soundin’ like me."
"Well, yes, of course, but I do hear him much more
frequently," Frodo pointed out, eyes twinkling merrily. "And
speaking of Sam, perhaps we should go back to the market? I’m sure he
thought the same as I did, and it would be a kindness to put his mind at
rest."
"Aye, that it would. I didn’t mean to be springin’
things on you like this, but it just seemed time."
"Well, I don’t mind saying that you took ten years
off my life," Frodo chuckled, "but it is good to have things out
in the open between us. We weren’t comfortable keeping things from you,
sir, but... well, we didn’t know how you’d react, and we didn’t want
to lose each other."
"That’s very understandable, Mr. Frodo. It’s not a
common thing, for young bucks to stay on with their... good friends like
that, but if that’s what both sides are wantin’, who am I to say anythin’
about it?"
"I wish all parents thought the same as you, sir,"
Frodo murmured, thinking sadly of his friends Merry and Pippin. "But
for my own sake, I’m glad you do. It’s a weight off my mind." He
strolled companionably at the Gaffer’s side as they retraced their steps
to the market.
"Not much you can do about those who don’t, except
ignore them, same as you do any fool," the Gaffer commented, shaking
his head.
Hearing his father’s voice again, Sam looked up from the
seedlings he was transferring to a wheelbarrow, his heart catching in his
throat as he wondered just what Frodo and his father had discussed.
Frodo met Sam’s gaze and smiled at him as they drew
closer. "Since our talk went more quickly than we expected, I thought I
should come back and see if you needed help bringing the plants home?"
He turned to the Gaffer. "I’d be pleased if you’d
join me for dinner tonight, sir."
The older Hobbit nodded. "That would be fine, sir. I’ll
take my leave now if you’ll excuse me. I imagine you’ll be havin’
quite a bit to discuss with my son about the future arrangements."
Waiting until his father walked away, Sam turned to Frodo,
his eyes wide. "Mr. Frodo? Is everythin’ all right?"
"Everything is fine, Sam," Frodo replied happily,
beaming. "We’ll have plenty to talk about at dinner tonight. What
your father wanted to discuss was since you’ve taken over the gardens at
Bag End and spend so much time working on them, he thought it might be
easier for you to live there. I’m just ashamed that I’ve taken you so
much for granted that I didn’t think of it myself." There, that ought
to put a stop to any rumors when Sam moved in, he thought with satisfaction.
The younger Hobbit was stunned into silence for a moment
before his jaw dropped. "He - he - that’s a fine idea, Mr. Frodo, if
it’s no bother. That way I’d be near if you needed anythin’."
"Exactly what the Gaffer said," Frodo agreed.
"I think he’s afraid the garden won’t be up to his standards
otherwise."
A slow smile bloomed over Sam’s face as he realized just
what this meant. "I’ll be sure to promise him to take the best care
of it possible, sir, but then I do that anyway."
"And if he didn’t approve of your efforts, he wouldn’t
have made the suggestion," Frodo replied, trying to make it clear that
Sam’s father approved of more than just the garden. They would discuss it
when they got home, but he wanted to share his joy with his lover as soon as
possible.
Still stunned by this turn of events, Sam managed to nod.
"Beggin’ your pardon, sir, but if I want him to keep approvin’ of
my efforts, I’d best get these little ones back to Bag End and in the
ground so they don’t start wiltin’ on us."
Frodo nodded. "Do you need help getting them back? I
feel rather guilty strolling along empty-handed while you carry
everything."
"It’s no bother, Mr. Frodo," Sam assured him.
"That’s why I brought the barrow. No need for you to dirty
yourself."
Frodo rolled his eyes but didn’t waste his time arguing,
knowing he would lose. As they headed home after paying, Frodo mused,
"It’s a good thing we restocked the larder yesterday. We won’t have
to get anything extra for tonight’s dinner. Oh Sam," he murmured,
keeping his voice down with an effort, "I can hardly believe it."
"Me either, sir." Sam’s hands were shaking, and
he tightened his grip on the handles to quell them. "It’s - it’s
like some dream or some wish that I always wanted to have but never dared
ask for."
"Exactly," Frodo breathed, sighing with relief as
they stepped through the gate at Bag End. "Oh Sam," he gasped.
"He knows. And he doesn’t mind!"
"It’s a wonderment, that’s what it is." Sam
lifted his eyes to meet Frodo’s brilliant blue gaze and felt his heart
clench in his chest. "And a relief, not to be havin’ to talk around
what we’re doin’."
With a quick glance at the flowers, which Sam had set in a
shady spot, Frodo caught his hand and tugged him inside where no one would
see them. The moment the door was shut, he flung his arms around Sam,
hugging him hard, a huge smile on his face.
"No worryin’ about what to say when I get home late.
No havin’ to leave before sunup. Just me and you for always," the
gardener breathed, holding Frodo close to him, his chest heaving with the
worry he’d suppressed the whole time his father and Frodo had been gone.
"Sharing a bed every night, falling asleep in your arms
and waking up with you beside me. Having time to simply sit and be together.
Oh Sam." Frodo beamed at him, his joy visibly shining in his big eyes.
"He knows, and he’s givin’ us his blessing so to
speak," Sam murmured, reaching up to stroke Frodo’s cheek before
seeing the dirt on his hands and making a face. "I need to clean up -
or more rightly, I need to get those little ones in the ground before
something troubles them."
"It’s still early, you know," Frodo murmured.
"If you get the planting done quickly, we should have time for a nice,
long, leisurely bath together before we have to start preparing
dinner."
Sam flushed at the thought of it. "That sounds just
dandy. I’ll have to be seein’ about moving my things over here
too." He gave a brilliant smile. "And here I was envyin’ Mr.
Merry and Mr. Pippin for gettin’ to live together and now we can
too."
"And while we can’t be as public as they can, at
least we don’t have to worry about your family like poor Pippin,"
Frodo agreed. "I think I prefer being prudent around others to being
ostracized by my own family."
Some of the light dimmed from the gardener’s hazel eyes at
that. "Aye, that’s a hard thing to have to deal with. What do you
think Mr. Bilbo would say if he found out?"
"I think Bilbo would say that it’s part and parcel of
a Hobbit who makes his own way and does what pleases him. Even as Bilbo
himself did, if not in the same way. And I think he’d think I was very
lucky to find someone as wonderful as you, my Sam."
Though he looked as if he didn’t quite believe Frodo, Sam
flushed at the compliment. "I hope you’re right, love. Now let me get
those flowers in their beds, then we can think about that bath and what to
make for dinner." He leaned in and kissed Frodo lightly, then with more
hunger as the truth that they’d never have to sleep apart again hit him.
Frodo was panting breathlessly by the time their lips
parted, and he stared at Sam for a moment with a dazed expression.
"Go," he urged, "I’ll be waiting when you’re done."
"Shouldn’t take too long," Sam promised, backing
away before he was unable to do so. "Be back in before luncheon."
Frodo nodded as he turned toward his study to continue
reading an Elvish manuscript. He briefly considered making lunch to surprise
Sam, but he knew the younger Hobbit would be appalled. A fond smile curved
his lips as he considered his lover, then he was lost in the tale of the
ancient Elves.
A delicious scent pulled Frodo from his contemplation of
long ago romance and heartbreak, and he raised his head, immediately
focusing on the Hobbit in the doorway. "Sam? Oh dear, is it time for
lunch already? I must have lost track."
"That you did." Sam crossed to the book and
scroll-covered desk and gently closed the tome Frodo had been reading,
taking care to mark his place first. "I’ve got our meal ready and
water warming for that bath if you’re still interested in takin’ it.
There’s a nice bit of roast I put up for supper as well as some yams and
peppers fresh from the garden. Should be plenty for the three of us."
"You spoil me, Sam," Frodo murmured, standing up
into the other Hobbit’s arms and sliding his own arms around Ssam’s
waist. "You’re going to have to let me spoil you too sometimes."
"Don’t know if I’m the type who takes to bein’
spoiled," Sam shrugged, drawing Frodo into an embrace and kissing the
curve of the older Hobbit’s ear. "I do know I enjoy doing for you
though."
"I shouldn’t let you, but I must confess that I enjoy
it too," Frodo admitted, his head tilting to one side and a small sigh
of pleasure escaping. His fingers began to knead Sam’s sides where he was
still holding him, and suddenly lunch was the last thing on his mind.
Shivering as Frodo’s fingers worked at his sides, Sam
kissed his way down Frodo’s ear to his neck, groaning quietly at the feel
and taste of soft, smooth skin under his lips.
"I think lunch is going to be delayed," Frodo
panted, one hand rising to tangle in Sam’s curls and hold his mouth to
himself. "You’re much too tempting, Sam." His hips rocked
forward, and he smiled crookedly when he felt the matching hardness meet his
own.
"I should make you eat, but I can’t, not now, not
today," Sam murmured before falling silent as Frodo kissed him
hungrily.
"Later," Frodo rasped, a leg gliding up the
outside of Sam’s and curling around his waist, allowing them to press
closer together. "We’ll enjoy it all the more after the...
exercise."
"Might just have to make a tray and take it in by the
bath," Sam sighed, his arms tightening around Frodo’s slimmer body as
they kissed again.
"Nothing wrong with that," Frodo purred, arching
against him. "We need time for ourselves as well. And right now, I need
you, my Sam."
"You know I’m always here for you when you need me,
love." Saying that, Sam gently pulled back from Frodo and turned him in
his arms so they could walk to the bedroom without either of them falling.
"I do know that, Sam, and I count on it," Frodo
replied softly, his fingers interlacing with his lover’s. "And to
know that you will always be here... it fills my heart to overflowing,"
he said, more poetic than usual after a morning of reading Elvish tales.
Sam’s face took on a ruddy tone, but he didn’t look away
from Frodo when they reached the privacy of the bedroom. Reaching out, he
stroked the older Hobbit’s face before kissing him again. "I’m
yours. All of me. Forever, Frodo."
"I shall hold you to that, my Sam," Frodo replied,
hands rising to cup his love’s face. "But for the moment," he
added, suddenly mischievous, "do you think we could possibly make it to
the bed and make love?"
"No quoting poetry to me? All right, if we
must..." Grinning, Sam tumbled to the bed, bringing Frodo with him.
Laughing, Frodo rolled on top of the sturdy Hobbit and
smirked down at him. "You forgot about our clothes. For shame, Sam,
forgetting something as important as that." Sitting up straddling Sam,
he reached up and unfastened his suspenders, blue eyes never leaving Sam’s
suddenly widened ones, then began to unbutton his shirt.
"I - I suppose you’ll have to remedy that,
then," Sam whispered, watching hungrily as Frodo let his shirt slide
back off his shoulders and down his arms, leaving his chest bare.
"I suppose I will." Frodo toyed with the top
button on his trousers, teasing Sam, then slowly slipped it free and did the
same with the next and the next until they were all undone. He reached down,
pushing his smallclothes down, and his rigid erection was suddenly free,
framed by the open placket of his pants, seemingly yearning toward Sam.
Eyes locked on the older Hobbit’s body, Sam shivered,
reaching out a sun-browned hand to stroke the engorged flesh that was
enticing him. Closing his eyes, he gave a sigh of pure pleasure as his
fingers moved over Frodo’s shaft, the satin heat of his lover’s body
making his own ache with need.
Frodo’s back arched as he pushed into Sam’s hand, the
feeling of the hands on him making him shiver with arousal. Eyes half-lidded
as he fought the urge to close them, wanting to see Sam, he reached for the
buttons on Sam’s shirt.
Sam knew he should move his hands and let Frodo have an
easier time of getting him undressed, but he couldn’t. It was as if by
letting go of the older Hobbit, he’d lose him, even as he’d just gotten
him forever.
Frodo wanted Sam’s hands on him as much as Sam wanted to
touch him, so once Frodo’d unfastened his shirt, he simply pushed it back
over Sam’s shoulders, baring his chest. "I love you," he
whispered, leaning down to kiss his lover.
"Love you always," Sam husked after their mouths
parted. He licked his lips, groaning quietly at Frodo’s flavor on him,
then slid his arms upward, circling Frodo with them and pulling him down so
their whole bodies were aligned.
Frodo squirmed atop him, gasping as his naked erection
rubbed against the fabric of Sam’s trousers. "I need you in me, my
Sam," he gasped, unable to remain still, his mouth moving voraciously
over Sam’s throat and chest.
Almost whimpering at the naked wanting in Frodo’s voice,
Sam nodded blindly, trying to squirm a hand between them to work at his
trousers, finally freeing his shaft and groaning as it rubbed against Frodo’s
bare erection. "Like this?" he asked, wanting to see Frodo sitting
astride him.
Frodo didn’t respond in words, simply rising up onto his
knees and reaching back to steady Sam as he slowly lowered himself onto him.
He gasped, biting his lip, as his body burned and stretched, but his own
erection never flagged.
"Frodo, you need..." Sam’s protest as to the
fact that this had to be hurting Frodo halted as he felt himself slowly
surrounded by Frodo’s tight heat. "Hurtin’ you..." he managed
to get out.
"Feels good," Frodo panted, head falling back as
his hands rose to tease his nipples again, his weeping erection tight
against his belly as he rocked atop Sam.
"But, but..." Sam protested before the way Frodo
was moving on him drove the thought from his brain. Sliding his hands down
over Frodo’s hips, he left one there, dark against the pale skin, and
moved the other to circle and stroke the older Hobbit’s shaft, thrusting
upward each time Frodo sank down on him.
Frodo cried out as Sam began caressing him, his eyes opening
again to watch Sam, to see his hand on him and the pleasure on his face. He
groaned as he began to move faster, needing more, his body clinging to Sam’s
as he forced himself to rise again only to push back down harder with each
stroke.
"Always yours, Frodo," Sam gasped, his back
arching off the bed as Frodo tightened around him and he tried to keep from
coming. He reached up, catching the other Hobbit’s hand and bringing it to
his mouth so that he could suckle on Frodo’s fingers to keep himself from
crying out at the pleasure.
"Sam," Frodo whimpered, his mouth falling open as
he watched Sam fellate his fingers. Sam in him, his hands on him, his mouth
suckling on his fingers, it was all too much for Frodo, and he cried Sam’s
name as he came, clenching around the thick shaft filling him.
Groaning in pleasure as Frodo convulsed around him, Sam
shuddered, managing only a few more thrusts up into Frodo’s now pliant
body before he, too, was coming, whispering his lover’s name against the
fingers in his mouth.
As soon as Sam came, Frodo collapsed on top of him,
whimpering softly when Sam’s spent cock pulled out of his body. "I
don’t ever have to worry about losing you," he whispered into the
sweaty flesh beneath his cheek. "Your family won’t take you
away."
"Not ever," Sam promised, stroking his hands over
Frodo’s damp back before hugging him close. "You’re stuck with me
forever, sir."
"Exactly the way I want it," Frodo replied,
cuddling into him, content in Sam’s arms. "Though we may end up
literally stuck to each other if we don’t clean up soon," he
chuckled, though not trying to move.
"Or you’ll be stuck to my clothes anyway," Sam
murmured, kissing Frodo’s temple. "Plus there’s lunch to eat and
dinner to work on then clean up to be done before my Da gets here."
"You mean you’re actually going to let me do
something?" Frodo gasped, sitting up and pressing a hand to his chest.
"I’m not sure I can survive the shock."
Sam snorted out a soft laugh. "Considerin’ what we
just did and how we did it, I’m not sure you’re going ta be doing much
of anything at all other than sitting on a pillow."
Frodo winced, but he couldn’t deny that he was feeling the
results of their activities. "I think I’d rather stand up for a
while, if it’s all the same to you," he admitted wryly.
Now frowning in concern, Sam gently eased Frodo to his side
before reaching for a cloth to clean them up. "What about soaking in
the tub while I put a tray together for you?"
Frodo leaned over and kissed him soundly. "Now don’t
you start feeling guilty, Samwise Gamgee! I loved what we just did, and a
bit of an ache is a small price to pay for such pleasure." He frowned
repressively at Sam, then smiled again. "But I will soak in the bath
for a bit. I’d hate to have the Gaffer ask questions." He flushed
faintly at the thought.
Sam turned a sudden and violent crimson at the thought of
his father wondering what they had been doing. "Yes, a soak in a hot
tub would be for the best then," he said quickly, hopping out of the
bed and fastening his trousers as he hurried to the kitchen to put more
water on to warm.
Frodo buried his face in the pillows to muffle his laughter
at Sam’s reaction. When he’d regained control, he stood up slowly and
moved toward the bathroom.
"Are you sure you’re feeling up to sitting through
the meal?" Sam asked, glancing up from the simmering pots he was
tending to look over at Frodo, who was sitting at the table. "I could
trot down the row and tell him something came up if you’d like."
"Since the something was you and I, I’d really rather
you didn’t," Frodo chuckled, shifting uncomfortably. "Besides, I’m
looking forward to having dinner with the both of you."
"Yes, but..." Sam began, before sighing and
falling silent under Frodo’s implacable gaze. "I still don’t like
the fact that I’m the cause of you hurtin’, even if it was pleasurable
while we were doin’ it."
"Sam, we did exactly what I wanted. I enjoyed every
moment of it, and I’m still enjoying the reminder. Every time I move it’s
as if I still have you inside me. I’m not sorry for that."
"Neither am I, I’m just hopin’ that my Da doesn’t
start thinking that too!"
Frodo turned scarlet. "I certainly hope not!" He
shuddered at the thought. "Perhaps I’ll just sit still tonight and
let you serve dinner."
Sam raised the spoon he’d been stirring the potatoes with
and pointed it at Frodo. "I was planning on that being the case
anyway."
Frodo sighed. "Yes, Sam. Whatever you say, Sam."
The younger Hobbit smiled and nodded. "An excellent
answer, Mr. Frodo."
"You are a very bossy Hobbit, you know that?"
Frodo tried to frown at Sam, but it was difficult when looking at Sam always
made him want to smile.
Sam shrugged and gave an apologetic smile. "It comes
from wanting to take care of you since you can’t seem to do it
yourself," he answered.
"But I don’t need to since you do it so well."
Frodo grinned at him, then started to rise when he heard a knock at the
door. Seeing Sam’s frown, he subsided back into his seat, sighing.
"Can I at least move to the parlor so we can sit comfortably?"
"Why don’t you go in there and I’ll get the door
and let the Gaffer in," Sam suggested, holding himself back from
helping Frodo to his feet only by reminding himself that Frodo wouldn’t
particularly like it.
He waited until the older Hobbit had crossed to the parlor,
then padded down the hallway to the door, swallowing hard before opening it
and stepping out of the way so his father could come inside. "Evening,
Da. I hope you’re doing all right?" Sam asked after escorting the
Gaffer into Bag End.
"Tolerably," the Gaffer allowed, looking around.
He’d expected Frodo, the host, to meet him at the door, but remembering
the way he’d seen Sam hovering over the older Hobbit, he wasn’t
surprised. "You seem well enough," he stated, eyeing his son
before following Sam’s gesture toward the parlor, where Frodo, presumably,
awaited them.
"Very good, sir." Sam nodded almost violently,
before chewing on his lower lip, stopping his father before they could reach
the parlor. "Da, I - this means the world to me, that you’re knowin’
and still all right with it."
The Gaffer stopped and turned to face Sam directly. "I
won’t pretend that I don’t think it would be easier for you if you’d
settled on a lass, Samwise, but I can see that you and Mr. Frodo truly care
for each other, and what I really want is for you to be happy. I think that’s
what he wants as well."
"It is," Frodo said quietly from the parlor
doorway.
"I know, sir, but he does make me happy." Sam
crossed over to Frodo’s side and took his hand, his cheeks flushing at
doing so in front of his own father. "And I want to do the same for
him."
"Then that’s all that counts, at least in the privacy
of your own home. It would be best if you were restrained in public, but
that’s not alone with family. I’m happy for Sam, Mr. Frodo."
"Just Frodo," that gentle-Hobbit put in, hoping to
be more successful than he’d been with Sam. "After all, you’re by
way of being my father too now."
"Hrm." The Gaffer didn’t say anything, but he
seemed pleased.
"Dad..." Sam began warningly, before stopping his
remark as Frodo tightened his fingers around his hand. "Why don’t you
come have a seat in the parlor? Dinner’ll be ready soon, but we put up
some snacks."
"That sounds right nice," the Gaffer said. He
followed the two younger Hobbits into the sitting room and settled himself
in a comfortable chair.
Knowing that Sam would be displeased if he tried to serve
anything, Frodo seated himself as well, but he kept an eye on Sam. He wanted
it clear that in their home he and Sam were equals, and if he had to sit on
Sam to make him stay still, he would!
That in mind, he waited until Sam had offered the tray to
his father and the Gaffer had helped himself, then when Sam tried to offer
to him as well, Frodo took it from him, set it down, and yanked Sam down to
sit beside him on the loveseat. "Do sit and relax for a bit, Sam,"
he said, a determined glint in his eyes.
"But, Frodo, the wine..." Sam’s protest trailed
off when he saw the steely look in Frodo’s blue eyes. "I suppose it’ll
keep," he mumbled, grinning sheepishly.
The Gaffer chuckled aloud at that. "Very nice work
there, Mr. - ahh, Frodo." He sampled a cheese puff and smacked his
lips. "It seems the two of you will have things settled in no time at
all."
Frodo nodded. "Truthfully, sir, my only real concern
was how you would react. Nothing else is more important to me than
Sam."
"I have no doubt of that. It’s plain enough on both
your faces if one knows where to look."
Sam blushed a furious red at the thought of being so
obvious. "We would have told you before, I just was worried - with what
happened with Mr. Merry and Mr. Pippin and their folks and all..." He
trailed off uncomfortably.
Frodo clasped Sam’s hand in his, taking as much as giving
comfort. "I’m glad you’re more understanding."
The Gaffer nodded. "That was a bad situation. But what
can you expect from a Took? We Gamgees are much more sensible," he
said, only the twinkle in his eye belying his serious mien.
Sam tried to keep from laughing, but his father’s comment
combined with his nerves had him resting his head on Frodo’s shoulder and
giggling until his sides hurt.
"Most of the time," the Gaffer allowed, this time
allowing himself a small smile.
"But not all," Frodo chuckled, relaxing fully. It
really was going to be all right. He leaned against Sam, smiling.
END
 since 02-03-07
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