"I can't help thinking of the Shire tonight, Sam." Frodo lay flat on his back, arms folded behind his head, as he gazed up at the dark sky. "We're so far from home, but the stars look just the same."
After walking half the night on forest paths through the foothills of the Mountains of Shadow, headed toward the passage into Mordor that Gollum had promised to show them, they'd stopped for a few hours' rest before daylight. Gollum had gone off somewhere, hunting for his own supper. They had no fire, but they were used to that by now, and the nights grew warmer as they traveled farther south. After the rocky terrain of Emyn Muil and the clamminess of the marsh, the grassy bed of a hillside was almost as welcome as a feather mattress.
But, in spite of his weariness, Frodo was unable to sleep. The burden of the Ring was beginning to tell on him, and he seemed to have a lot on his mind.
"Do you remember how quickly we left that morning?" he asked.
"I remember. Gandalf practically tossed us out the door." Sam lay a few feet away, head resting drowsily in the crook of one arm, but he stayed awake to keep Frodo company. "I didn't even have time to leave a note for my dad to tell him I'd gone off with you."
"If we don't come back, they'll never know what happened to us."
"Mr. Frodo, what a thing to say!" Sam lifted his head from his arm. "We'll get back to the Shire... someday. We'll tell 'em all about the adventures we've had."
"Will we, Sam?" They had not talked about it, but both were begin-ning to realize that, even if they did get into Mordor, they might not come out again. "If we don't, what will you be most sorry to have missed? Marrying Rosie?"
"There's no reason to think she'd wait on me. I never said a word to her before we went away, not even 'good-bye'. A pretty girl like Rosie can have her pick of any boy she likes. She's probably married by now." Saying it aloud didn't hurt as much as he'd thought it would. But then, Rosie had taken up less and less of his thoughts these past weeks, as someone else claimed all of his attention.
He gazed at his master's profile, silhouetted by the sliver of rising moon. No, Rosie wasn't the one he was thinking of tonight.
"At least you had that once," Frodo replied. "I've never been in love. I never even had a proper kiss. But that would be no differ-ent if I'd stayed at home. Since Uncle Bilbo left, I could see myself becoming just like him, spending the rest of my days at Bag End alone."
He'd missed one chance at love by being too afraid to speak; Sam wasn't going to let another go by. If worst came to worst, he could at least say that he had tried. "It doesn't have to be that way."
Frodo leaned up on one elbow, laughing in surprise. "Was that a proposal, Sam?"
It was too late to take it back now. Nor would he if he could. Sam plunged on bravely, "I'm only saying--you don't have to be alone, not if you don't want to. I'm right here. I'd just have to move a bit closer."
Frodo's smile slowly faded as he realized that his friend wasn't joking, and he began to consider Sam more seriously. "All right," he said after a long--and, for Sam, agonizing--silence. "Why don't you move a bit closer?"
"You mean that? You're not playing to tease me?"
"I wouldn't tease you. You are... very dear to me, Sam. There is no one else I'd rather have here with me now."
That was all Sam needed to hear; he crawled over. Frodo reached up, fingers spreading to cup the side of his face, and drew him down for their first, proper kiss.
When they moved apart a few minutes later, both were disheveled and breathless. Frodo's shirt had come untucked from the waistband of his trousers; Sam stole one hand up beneath to meet--not warm skin, but cool mithril. He felt a burst of frustration: So close, and here was a last, unexpected barrier!
Frodo laughed. "You look as if you'd like to tear it off me with your bare hands."
Sam blushed, startled and embarrassed that his thoughts should be so easy to read. But before he could withdraw, Frodo's hand covered his through the layer of fabric.
"It's all right. I'll take it off." He gave Sam a quick kiss before moving back to slip his braces off one shoulder, then the other. As he unbuttoned his shirt, he glanced up shyly, yearning for... some-thing. "Are we going to make love?"
Sam was astonished by the question. He should have spoken up ages ago! "You want to?"
"Yes. Why not?" came the decisive reply. "We're heading into danger --who knows what will happen to us tomorrow? I think we'll regret it if we don't take the chance now while we have it. There may never be another." He tossed his shirt aside and pulled the mailshirt off over his head. "Will you show me what to do?"
As astonishing as that last question had been, this one left Sam completely flabbergasted. "Don't you know?"
Frodo shook his head.
"Nobody ever sat you down and told you-?"
"Who?" Frodo laughed again. "Uncle Bilbo?"
No, Sam conceded, that didn't seem likely. Old Mr. Bilbo giving advice on how to trick trolls into staying out until sunrise or how to steal treasure from a dragon? Yes. Talking about sex? No. He just couldn't see it.
"What about all those books you read?" he asked.
"Nothing like this ever happens in books--not in the ones I've read. At the very end, the lovers kiss, and they live happily ever after. The stories never go beyond that. I suppose the Gaffer explained it all to you?"
"He told me a thing or two when I was old enough, about girls, getting married, having babies..." But nothing about pleasuring a gentleman. Well, what would his dad know about it anyway? No gentleman the Gaffer had ever worked for was half as pretty as his Mr. Frodo.
Frodo had lain back on the grass and was watching him, smiling. "You don't really know any more than I do," he said.
"No," Sam admitted. But now that he was this close to having the boy he loved, he wasn't going to let a little thing like not knowing what to do get in the way. "Don't you worry," he promised as he slipped out of his own braces. "I'm sure we'll figure it out."
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