"Sam." Tears staining his eyes red and trickling down his cheeks, Frodo tried again to wake his beloved.
"Sam!" This time, Frodo's voice rose along with the desperation lacing it. He shook Sam's shoulder this time for good measure. That did the trick-Sam stirred in his sleep; a tired groan followed the movement of his legs. He opened his heavy, sleep-swollen eyes to see Frodo looming over him, sadness marring his usually serene face. Sam's pulse quickened in alarm as he sat up in their bed.
"Frodo-what's wrong?" He reached out and touched Frodo's arm lightly. His free hand brushed at the tears gliding down his master's cheeks. It took several gulps for Frodo to be able to speak, and when he did his voice shook and stammered.
"I-had-another dream." Frodo managed to get out between little hiccoughing sobs. Sam inhaled deeply and tightened his hold on Frodo's arm.
"Can you tell me about it? Do you want to try, me dear?" Sam asked gently. Frodo's face crinkled up in despair as he shook his head. His face was downcast, his eyes on his maimed hand. Sam gently took Frodo's face in his hands and titled it up so that he could see his eyes.
"What do you want then, me dear?" It was terrible, that expression on his face. It made Sam want to cry and love on Frodo at the same time.
"I don't know, Sam." Frodo whispered. Sam looked again into Frodo's eyes and found the answer there. He suddenly realized that the sun was barely risen in the window behind Frodo. He frowned slightly for a minute, then looked back at Frodo and smiled gently, in his eyes more than on his lips. Sam wrapped his arms around Frodo and drew him in against his chest. Frodo sighed shakily as they hugged.
Then Sam eased Frodo's face from his chest and dabbed it dry with a corner of his nightshirt. He placed a kiss on the top of his head when he was finished and gave him a quick smile. He was glad to see that Frodo had stopped crying.
"Here, now." Sam said, shifting his grip on Frodo to lay him down softly on the bed. He cupped the back of his head so as not to pull at the delicate sable curls as he set him on the pillow. When he had Frodo lying down comfortably, Sam bent down until he and Frodo's breaths were the same.
"I love you, Frodo Baggins. And I-your silly Sam-am here." Sam felt a smile curve slowly across Frodo's lips as a hand reached up into his hair.
"Mine?" Frodo asked quietly-questioning, tentative, as if he were unsure. Sam closed the distance between their lips in a slow, light kiss.
"Yours." He said against Frodo's mouth in a tone that brooked no argument. Then he kissed Frodo again. This time, Sam put out his tongue and ran it worshipingly along the space between Frodo's top and bottom lips. Frodo took in a sharp breath of surprise; Sam's face rose away slightly.
"Sam." Frodo said, more with breath than voice. He rose up on his elbows. Almost in the same instant, his tongue was at Sam's lips and it was Sam who was gasping. Instead of drawing back as Sam hand, Frodo went into Sam's mouth and touched his tongue to Sam's. The ardor of Sam's response made Frodo unconsciously clench his hand painfully in Sam's hair. Sam didn't notice, as he was busy discovering and working out the way Frodo's mouth felt and tasted.
It was only the pressing need for air that drew them apart. Sam grinned at Frodo as they caught their breath; he reached out and wiped away a spot of saliva from the corner of Frodo's mouth. Frodo blushed.
"Sam, I-"
"Shush, Mr. Frodo. It's not even proper morning yet. Any talkin' or.....well.....anything else, if you take my meaning, can wait 'til we've gotten a few more hours of sleep." Frodo smiled. He nodded as Sam leaned back and situated himself down in the bed. After a quick kiss, Sam drew the blankets up around them and pulled Frodo to him.
Later that morning, Sam and Frodo got up together after several long kisses and made breakfast.
"Mmpph-Sam, these biscuits are delicious! Are they one of your Gaffers' creations?"
"No. And they're not the only 'creation' I've thought up lately, I'll have you know. And no, I didn't cook any of 'em up but these biscuits here this morning." Sam said with a laugh as Frodo peered over at the countertop hopefully.
"Well, you'll have to now. I won't eat anything else but another 'creation' of yours again."
"Oh, hush, you." Sam said with mock affronted gruffness, handing Frodo a napkin. After they'd polished off the rest of the food they'd made, the two began to gather the dishes and wipe down the table. Frodo had just finished off the table with a flourishing swipe when he noticed something odd set up amidst their little garden.
"What's that, Sam?" Sam looked up from the sink, where he'd just set down the last of the dishes, and saw what Frodo was pointing to.
"Oh-just somethin' I made for you. Finished it up just the other day." Sam took hold of Frodo's good hand and led him out into the garden. The bright morning sun against the array of colorful flowers had the pair blinking.
"It's an easel." Frodo said, stating the obvious in his surprise.
"And some canvases and a few paints." Sam added, gesturing towards the boards and tubes leaning against the simple wood easel. "I thought it might be an easier way for you to get things out than writing, what with your hand and all, if you follow me." The joyous look on Frodo's face told Sam that his idea had been a good one.
"Oh, Sam-this is wonderful!" He squeezed Sam's hand. "Really. Thank you."
"T'weren't nothin', Mr. Frodo. I hate the way those dreams are still plaguing you. I can't love you and not do everything I can to stop them, now can I? It just wouldn't be right." As Sam said this, Frodo stepped away from Sam and reached out to touch the easel. The surface was slightly rough, but relatively flat. It was sturdy, and a good size too.
"Don't worry about the surface there. I'll get to sandin' it today if you'd like." Sam couldn't help but to out-and-out grin at the mystified expression on Frodo's face.
"Sam-I don't know what to say. I wish there was some way", here Frodo looked into Sam's eyes with an odd sort of wistful look in them, "that I could properly thank you-something I could give you-"
"Now, Frodo-seein' you smilin' and happy like is payment enough. I am just a gardener doin' his job, after all."
"NO." Frodo said harshly. He stepped back over to Sam and took a firm hold of both his hands. "You are everything to me, Sam. Don't you see it?" He leaned forward until their noses were touching. Their eyelashes brushed one another's' and it made Sam shiver. "Don't you see it?" A downward sweep of eyelashes told Sam that Frodo had closed his eyes. They stayed closed as he continued talking. "You mean so much to me, Sam. More than I think I could ever say. I'm only alive and here because of you. Because you....." Frodo paused here. Sam rubbed his nose to Frodo's reassuringly. "Because you love me."
"Oh, Frodo-I do. I do." Frodo cleared his throat as if something had been blocking it.
"I know, Sam. That truth....that truth has saved me over and over again." Frodo let go of Sam's hands but brought his mangled hand up to Sam's cheek. It was the first time that Frodo had touched him with that hand, and the feel of it zinged through Sam's blood hotly. "I owe you everything, Sam. All." Unable to hold back any longer, Frodo brought Sam's face to his and kissed him. "And I plan on giving it to you for the rest of our lives."
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