Thrice Returned
Author:  Nefertiti    nefertiti_22002@yahoo.com
Rating:  NC-17
Pairing:  Gandalf/Frodo
Disclaimer:  I do not own any rights to these characters; this story is 
offered purely for the enjoyment of fans.
Author's Note:  This story is a sequel to Poncing Ponies' delightful "Twice 
Given" and continues the action without a break.  It does, however, have 
one change of premise.  "Twice Given" follows the film in having Gandalf 
arrive the day before Bilbo's birthday party (though it keeps the book's 
premise that Frodo and Bilbo share the same birthday).  In the book, 
Gandalf arrives about a week earlier.  I have adopted the latter 
chronology.

Many thanks to Poncing Ponies for so cordially welcoming the idea of a 
sequel by another hand, for her many encouraging comments, and for her 
suggestions for changes and additions, several of which—including the 
title--I have incorporated.  I am also very grateful to Elanor for her betaing 
and for reassuring me that there are other wizard/hobbit slash fans out 
there.

For those who have not read "Twice Given," the action concerns Gandalf 
arriving at Bag End, having lunch with Bilbo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin, and 
taking a piece of lamb pie to share with Frodo, who is making up the 
guest room.  After considerable banter suggesting that the two are in love 
but both afraid to admit it, Gandalf gives Frodo a pair of Elf-slippers as a 
birthday present--which is unusual, since hobbit custom is to give rather 
than receive presents on their birthdays—and Frodo in turn gives Gandalf 
a kiss, in the middle of which the original story teasingly ends.  Here is my 
suggestion for how things might have continued.

Feedback is most welcome, especially to let me know whether a further 
sequel would be 
of interest.

***********************************************************************

The kiss went on for quite some time.  At first Gandalf let Frodo take all 
the initiative, running his tongue—which was as wet and warm and 
altogether delectable as he had long imagined it would be--around the 
insides of the wizard's lips and thrusting it against his own tongue until he 
could resist no longer and began to suck eagerly at the delicate tip.  
Frodo moaned into his mouth the moment he responded actively to the 
kiss.  There was a dull thump and a crackle of paper as the slippers hit 
the floor.   Frodo's arms went around Gandalf's neck, and the hobbit 
pulled the wizard's mouth more firmly against his, digging his tongue 
further in and continuing to moan as Gandalf sucked it harder.  At last the 
hobbit pulled away to look into the wizard's flushed face, staring at him 
with a mixture of passion and apprehension.  Trying to keep his tone light, 
he murmured, "Just being polite, or did you enjoy that?" 

In answer, Gandalf slid his hands under Frodo's arms and pulled the 
hobbit up until he was awkwardly draped over the edge of the bed, his 
feet hanging a few inches above the floor.  Gandalf managed to draw a 
deep breath and reply, "It was the best hobbit birthday present I've ever 
received,  and yet I should like to give it back."  He pulled the hobbit 
against him, pressing his lips against Frodo's and thrusting his long 
tongue into his mouth.  Frodo whimpered slightly and in his turn sucked 
hungrily, biting slightly and opening to let the tip delve deeper.

At last their mutual arousal forced them to burst apart and gulp for air.  
They looked at each other warily.  Not turning his head, Frodo reached 
suddenly and brushed his fingers across the front of the wizard's trousers.  
Gandalf jerked and clenched his teeth, turning his head and pressing his 
chin down into his shoulder.   Frodo said joyfully,  "Oh, yes, you obviously 
did enjoy it!  That's one part of you that can't pretend to be indifferent.  
Oh, Gandalf!"  His face wore a delighted, triumphant grin, and Gandalf 
realized that he had seldom seen such joy on a mortal face.  Frodo 
leaned forward to kiss the wizard again, but Gandalf gently pushed him 
away until he was standing on the floor by the bed again.  The wizard sat 
up, hugging his knees and staring at the quilt with a stricken expression.  
Frodo looked at him in blank surprise and after a somewhat lengthy 
silence asked anxiously, "What?  What is it?" 

Gandalf refused to look at him.  "I'm reminding myself of all the reasons I 
should not be doing this."

Frodo looked aghast.  "There are that many reasons?!"

Gandalf sighed and finally looked at Frodo.  "No, I'm still trying to think of 
a single one.  There must be quite a few, but somehow they seem to 
have become quite elusive."  Indeed, he could not force himself to refuse 
what Frodo was so eager to give him.  All he could think about was 
tasting that extraordinary little mouth again and feeling it on his body.

Frodo smiled, a relieved and mischievous little grin, and climbed onto the 
bed, kneeling by the wizard.  Gandalf looked into his eyes.  "Frodo, I . . . 
I'm sorry, I shouldn't . . . but you're right, my dear boy," he added with a 
rueful smile, "obviously I can't hide it any longer.  It's ridiculous, but I want 
you so badly!"  He hugged the hobbit to his chest and began to kiss his 
delicate white throat with an open mouth and hot, eager tongue.

"What's . . . ridiculous . . . about it?" Frodo managed to gasp out, as he 
felt flickers of pleasure everywhere the wizard touched him.

Gandalf pulled back reluctantly to look at him again.  "Well, I'm so old, 
and you're . . ."  Frodo put his fingers on the wizard's lips, then realized 
that he was touching a part of the wizard he had so often stared at and 
fantasized about.  He had always wondered what those thin, smooth lips 
would feel like against his skin, and now he knew!  He smiled and gently 
ran the tips of his fingers around Gandalf's mouth, slowly, over and over.  
Gandalf's lips pursed slightly to kiss them as they moved, and the hobbit 
felt just the tip of the wizard's tongue brushing his fingertips.

"You're ageless, not old," he whispered, then added more loudly, with a 
mischievous smile, "I doubt that once I get your trousers off you'll behave 
like an old dodderer."  Gandalf exhaled a puff of laughter, feeling greatly 
relieved that Frodo felt that way.  As if to confirm the hobbit's words, he 
pulled Frodo to his chest and kissed his neck, moving up to delve his 
tongue into the shell-like whorls of his ear, circling and nipping as Frodo 
writhed in growing arousal, his face slack with desire.  Gandalf gently 
rubbed his fingertips over the hobbit's chest, feeling the nipples stiffen as 
he pinched them gently through the cloth.  "Oh, Gandalf, oh, yes!" Frodo 
begged hoarsely.  As Gandalf pinched harder, Frodo bucked, thrusting 
his hips hard against the wizard's belly, and Gandalf could feel his cock, 
imprisoned in his tight trousers, hard and straining to break free.  He drew 
a shuddering breath, pushed the hobbit's braces off his shoulders and 
down his arms, and began to unbutton his shirt.

Frodo had lost all trace of mockery now, and he clutched at Gandalf's 
shoulders and neck, rubbing his body against the wizard as best he 
could.  Gently Gandalf eased him onto his back and leaned on his elbow 
as he slowly parted the shirt and looked at the smooth, soft skin of 
Frodo's body.  The hobbit was indeed slimmer than the wizard 
remembered him being, but there was no sign of unhealthy wasting.  On 
the contrary, the skin was glowing and the nipples were like rose petals 
that had drifted down onto it.  "You are even more beautiful than I 
imagined," Gandalf breathed, and lowered his face to pull gently at the 
nipples with puckered lips, then to lick them harder as Frodo responded 
by writhing slightly and cried:  "I love that, oh, don't stop!"   Gandalf 
needed no urging, and he kissed and suckled at the little buds until both 
he and Frodo were panting with desire.  As he flicked his tongue sharply 
against them, one hand strayed to the laces that fastened the front of the 
hobbit's trousers.  He quickly undid the knot and began to pull each 
crossed lace, loosening the fly slowly, rubbing the backs of his fingers 
against the swollen, twitching erection within.  Frodo bucked again, 
desperate now to be out of the constraining cloth.

Gandalf slid his hand inside and gently stroked the cock, pulling it up into 
the looser part of the trousers so that it could straighten and lie up along 
the hobbit's lower belly.  It was pink and rock-hard.  So delicate, he 
thought, so unlike his own large—right now, very large--member.  He slid 
down and tugged at the trousers slightly, freeing the cock entirely.  At 
once he was kissing and licking it, delighting in the musky smell of Frodo.  
"How I have longed for this!" he murmured, and felt the hobbit's hand 
stroking his head.  Frodo murmured shakily.  "Oh, please, Gandalf . . . I . . 
. suck all the juices out . . . I can't bear it!"  He groaned loudly as the 
wizard's lips slid over the tip and continued down until the thin lips were 
pressed against his curly hair and soft balls.  He and some of his hobbit 
friends had tried this sort of thing in the fields over the years, but this was 
something else again. He felt dizzy as Gandalf's mouth engulfed him in 
wet heat, and the tongue slithered skillfully around the throbbing shaft, 
teasing and stroking as the wizard sucked hard, his lips very tight around 
the cock.

Frodo trembled as he felt his climax hovering near, and he begged in a 
rush, "Oh, GandalfGandalfGandalf, yesyesyesyesyesyes—Oh!"  He 
uncontrollably thrust upward and flooded the wizard's mouth with gushes 
of hot, pearly liquid.  Gandalf held Frodo's hips against the bed and 
swallowed eagerly, continuing to suck as Frodo's wild thrashing gradually 
quieted, and the hobbit lay panting and limp, staring up at him through 
half-closed eyes, smiling and looking a bit dazed.  He shook his head 
briefly to clear it, then sat up, struggling to rid himself of the shirt and 
trousers that were only halfway off.

Once naked, he put his hands on Gandalf's shoulders with an elated grin.  
"I like the slippers, Gandalf, but I like the gifts we're exchanging now 
much better!  Now you lie down."  He pushed the wizard back 
unceremoniously onto the pillow and straddled his thighs, trying to open 
Gandalf's own trouser laces, which seemed to be closed with an infernally 
intricate knot.  Gandalf lay watching the struggle, gasping with eagerness 
and yet amused at the hobbit's dilemma.  Frodo said, "Drat!  I want so 
much to see what yours looks like."  At last Gandalf reached down and 
undid the knot.  Then Frodo paused, his hand gently stroking Gandalf's 
rampant cock through the cloth.  "You say you have longed for this.  I 
have too, Gandalf.  So many times, for so many years.  I still cannot 
believe that I will not wake up to find this a dream—except that now I feel 
too gloriously drained to be dreaming."   He pulled the trousers down 
slightly and carefully extracted Gandalf's erection.

Gandalf felt tears start to his eyes, and he suddenly sat straight up again 
and wrapped his arms around Frodo, pulling him hard against his own 
body.  "You're right--I cannot believe this has come to pass.  Let me feel 
your body, Frodo, to know this is real."   Frodo's head was beside 
Gandalf's, and he playfully took the wizard's earlobe between his teeth 
and bit down just until he winced slightly.  Frodo pulled back to look at 
Gandalf's face.  "Real enough?"  Gandalf frowned indignantly at him.  
"Very real, you little imp!"  Immediately Frodo drew the earlobe into his 
mouth, sucking and licking it gently until Gandalf's arms tightened around 
him and his panting became quite audible.  Frodo looked in his face 
again, murmured, "Sorry.  Is that better?" and pressed his open mouth 
against Gandalf's.  It was a wet, awkward kiss, but the wizard found it 
enormously arousing.  If he had not already been fully hard, this would 
have done it for him instantly, he thought, and he pulled the naked body 
harder against himself.  The wizard's cock was aching for the touch of 
Frodo's tongue, and yet he was reluctant to lose this moment.  He passed 
his hands over the ivory skin of the back, the chest, the buttocks.

After a few moments Frodo pulled his mouth away and laughed.  He 
wiggled his buttocks slightly against Gandalf's erection, which was 
pressing against them.  "Don't you want me to get to work on that?  It 
seems quite eager."

"Don't worry, it's not going away," Gandalf whispered.  "On the contrary."  
He pulled Frodo's chest against his face, tonguing the hobbit's nipples 
and tasting with delight the thin, salty film of sweat that their lovemaking 
had brought out on his skin.  Finally Frodo slipped out of his arms and 
rose to catch the wizard's erection between his thighs, then released it 
and sat again, just below it.  "Sorry, but I want to get to know this.  I've 
fantasized about it so many times.  How can I wait now that I can put my 
hands on the real thing?  It's beautiful," he added, with an 
uncharacteristically shy smile.

As Frodo began to caress the shaft, Gandalf pressed his head and 
shoulders deep into the pillow, and his fingers dug into the quilt beneath 
them.  He gasped, feeling his head nearly buzzing with delight as he 
settled back into the mattress and watched Frodo slowly stroking the cock 
from base to tip, feeling its bumpy, throbbing veins and smooth skin over 
what seemed to the hobbit a very large shaft.  He bent and licked the tip 
gently.  Gandalf tensed but tried to lie as still as possible as Frodo ran his 
tongue over the entire cock.  It jerked and quivered slightly as Frodo 
explored it, each stroke of his mouth sending jolts of pleasure through 
Gandalf, who panted raggedly as he watched the hobbit.  Frodo glanced 
up and met his gaze, smiling slightly as he ran the underside of his 
tongue back and forth over the little black slit in the tip.  Gandalf tried his 
best to smile in return, and Frodo's eyes remained on his as he began to 
squeeze the cock with his hands and moved them up and down, 
gradually increasing the speed and pressure.  His open mouth pushed 
down to take in the entire tip, and he sucked hard as Gandalf writhed and 
rasped, "Oh, yes, please, Frodo, yes!"  Frodo pumped and sucked as if 
his life depended on it.  After shuddering moments of suspense, Gandalf 
felt a massive climax sear through him, as jets of his hot cum flooded 
Frodo's mouth.  The hobbit choked briefly and let most of it leak out and 
down the shaft, but he quickly resumed sucking and managed to swallow 
some of the later, smaller gushes.  Gandalf remained absorbed in bliss as 
the last spasms lingered and finally slipped away.  Then he suddenly 
relaxed his entire body onto the soft mattress.

Frodo stretched out to grab the napkin that had accompanied the 
luncheon pie, wiping his lips and then gently sponging the moisture from 
Gandalf's cock.  Then he slid upward along the bed to lie beside the 
wizard.  Gandalf looked at him with drowsy, half-open eyes, and as Frodo 
leaned forward to kiss his cheek gently, he drifted off to sleep.  Frodo 
smiled with amusement, since he never felt sleepy after sex, but he lay in 
the wizard's arms, stroking him with a feathery touch around his beard 
and cheeks.

After a couple of minutes, Gandalf opened his eyes again and smiled at 
him.  Frodo laughed.  "Here I've been claiming you're not really an old 
man, and now I find I've worn you out already!  You go to sleep on me—
and after only the first time!"

Gandalf chuckled, "Sorry, I tend to doze briefly afterward—but I assure 
you, I wake quite refreshed and reinvigorated, as you shall see shortly."  
He pulled himself up to sit against the absurdly large, soft, and numerous 
pillows so beloved of hobbits.  He held out his arms, and Frodo moved to 
sit on his lap, his back pressed against the wizard's damp chest.  Gandalf 
wrapped his arms around Frodo, who gently stroked his hands.  The 
wizard rested his chin on Frodo's curls and said, "I have finally realized 
that this hobbit custom of giving presents on their birthdays is highly 
sensible."

They remained silent for a while.  Gandalf began to fondle Frodo's nipples 
delicately, whispering in his ear, "I love playing with these.  I can't keep 
my hands off them."

"Good!" said Frodo, nestling his body against Gandalf's like a particularly 
imperious cat.  Gandalf rubbed his cheek against the hobbit's.  Frodo 
giggled, "Your beard tickles."  The wizard stopped rubbing immediately, 
but the hobbit objected, "I like it, though.  I love your beard."  As if to 
prove it, he turned his head and nuzzled into the thick hair, then settled 
back and enjoyed Gandalf's attentions to his chest.  

Finally Frodo remarked, "Your cock is awfully large.  You are as hairy and 
loaded as a stag."

Gandalf gave a snort of amusement.   "Very vivid!  I suppose I should be 
grateful you haven't made any jokes about my 'long staff.'  I think I've 
heard every possible variant on that."

"No, really.  I'm serious," Frodo persisted, "it's going to be difficult when 
we try to do it, you know, with you going inside me."

Gandalf felt a jolt of intense desire pass through him, but he forced 
himself to ignore it.  He felt enormously protective of this wondrous, slight 
body that had so unexpectedly been offered to him.  "Frodo, surely we 
won't try that.  You don't want so much pain without any certainty that 
pleasure would follow."

Frodo slowly replied, "Well, I do want to try, anyway."  There was another 
brief silence.

"Have you ever done it?  Do you know what you're asking for?" Gandalf 
asked softly.  

Frodo hesitated, then said, "Would you mind if I had done it before?"

Gandalf thought for a moment.  "Perhaps a little.  It's hard to say.  But I 
suppose I can hardly expect a healthy, beautiful young fellow like you to 
have been lacking in either desire or opportunity all these years.  No, I 
think it would be a good thing, on the whole, if you had some experience 
in these matters."

"Well, it has only been with hobbits," Frodo said doubtfully.  "Not with a 
Man like you.  But at least I've—well, to be frank, I've had cocks in my 
mouth and ass, but obviously only regular-sized ones—what I would think 
of as regular size, anyway.  But really, Gandalf, I've never felt about any 
of them the way I've felt about you since . . . since I started having such 
feelings at all."  Gandalf did not reply, and Frodo asked, "What about 
you?  You are—well, I don't know how old, but you must have had many, 
many lovers."

Trying to sound matter-of-fact, Gandalf replied, "Yes, quite a few.  Mostly 
Elves, since I spend what time I can in Rivendell and other Elven 
enclaves.  There are always beautiful and willing partners—both male 
and female--luckily for me."

Gandalf continued to caress Frodo's body.  The hobbit moved languidly 
against Gandalf's chest as the wizard moved one hand down to play 
lightly with his cock.   Frodo murmured contentedly, "Well, I for one am 
not surprised that those beautiful elves would want to share your bed, 
Gandalf.  All right, you look old, as you say, but you're vibrant and 
powerful and, mmm, very good at this, and you're . . . well, you're fun.  
Don't laugh, you are.  I've always thought so.  I suppose that's part of 
what attracted me to you.  When I was little I loved having you come to 
the Shire.  You were so clever and entertaining and funny, with your jokes 
and tales of far-off places and your magic tricks.  I felt proud after I came 
to live at Bag End and found that you always stayed with us when you 
visited the Shire--oh, Gandalf!   Mmmm, not so fast, or I won't get to finish 
telling you!"

Gandalf slowed his stroking, though he was feeling heat creeping into his 
own groin as he listened to Frodo.  The hobbit continued, now panting 
noticeably, "Well, when I came to that point in life when one begins to, 
well, think about . . . things—like what we're doing--of course I tried them 
out with my friends.  They were all as curious as I, and some of us were 
bold enough to experiment after we confessed our urges.  But afterwards, 
I would never feel any of the really strong fondness that I always 
imagined real lovers having.  It was just, do it as fast as possible and 
laugh and go on.  Those fellows are nice enough, and some of them are 
good friends and even cousins.  But I began to think that they all seemed 
terribly young to me, though of course most of them were within a few 
years of me in age.  And eventually I realized why when I found myself 
thinking about you while I was doing it, with them or alone at night.  And I 
quickly realized that I would rather be doing it with you than with any 
hobbit in his tweens.  You had done so many fascinating things, and you 
were my hero.   I could tell you were fond of me, though I never dared 
hope . . . well, I admit I did hope, but really just in a hopeless way . . . if 
that makes any sense.  I mean, I fantasized a lot about you and me, but I 
thought there was no chance in the world we'd ever really be doing this 
together."

"Why not?" Gandalf whispered.  The wizard's eyes were again moist as 
he listened to Frodo's story, thinking back over his visits to the Shire long 
ago.

Frodo replied, "Well, I was always terrified even to hint at it.  I was only 24 
when you were here last, and that's fairly young for a hobbit—though 
apparently not too young to catch your roving eye," he teased, twisting his 
neck to look up at Gandalf, who blushed and felt compelled to answer this 
cheeky remark.

"You were as beautiful then as now, and quite an exceptional lad in other 
ways.  Yes, I was fond of you . . . and beyond that I will admit that the last 
time I was here, I began to have, well, certain feelings when I looked at 
you that I thought were quite preposterous.  I never could have imagined 
that you would look upon me as anything more than a friend—a sort of 
uncle, like Bilbo."

Frodo smiled.  "Well, apparently among my sterling qualities was good 
taste in lovers, wouldn't you say?"  He shifted his buttocks as Gandalf's 
fingers continued to reawaken his desire.  As he did, he broke out 
suddenly in a wide grin.  "Old man, indeed!  Your cock doesn't seem to 
feel its age—it's reviving, and you've come more recently than I!  I think 
that secretly you're as randy as a young hobbit—and that's saying 
something, believe me."

 Gandalf tried not to look smug, realizing that this had to be an 
exaggeration.  He had not mentioned it, but among his non-Elven lovers 
there had been a few hobbits, and he had firsthand experience of just 
how randy they could be.  Aloud he said,  "I'm sure it's entirely inspired by 
your beauty, Frodo."   The hobbit pretended to be exasperated:  "Aha!  So 
you only want me for my beauty."

Gandalf laughed, "Well, it certainly cannot be for your mind!  I've just told 
you that most of my lovers have been Elves, and you should know that 
means that each and every one has been gorgeous.  I'm quite used to 
having beautiful partners in my bed, thank you very much, and I'm hardly 
going to be swept away by a lovely hobbit face after all that."  He paused, 
then added quite seriously, "But I assure you, I have never felt about any 
of them the way I feel about you."  Frodo gazed up into Gandalf's eyes, 
then awkwardly managed to hook one arm behind the wizard's neck, 
pulling his head down for a leisurely kiss.

Finally Frodo rose abruptly.  "I think it's time we got a bit more systematic 
about  this.  First of all . . ."  He turned and knelt again with his knees 
spread on either side of Gandalf's thighs.  He settled back onto those 
thighs and laughed.  Gandalf's trousers were still on, pulled down only 
slightly, and the top of his growing erection was poking up out of the 
trouser-front.   The hobbit struggled until he had them off completely.  He 
leaned forward and reached under Gandalf's beard, quickly undoing his 
buttons.  At once he spread the shirt wide.  The wizard's long beard 
covered his chest, but his belly was muscular and flat, without a bit of the 
padding that hobbits were accustomed to.  "Quite strong for an 'old man,'" 
Frodo said.

"I get a good deal of exercise," Gandalf answered, as if he had to justify 
his thinness.

"Really?" Frodo asked, in mock surprise.  "Well, be prepared for me to 
give you a great deal more exercise, my dear, elderly wizard."  Frodo 
began to move his hands through Gandalf's bushy beard.  "This beard 
does get in the way at times," he muttered.

Gandalf frowned, "I thought you liked it."

"I do.  It's like a game:  'find the nipple.'"  He pretended to search at some 
length, saying, "Now where . . . I can't . . . aah, here's one at last."  He 
leaned in and fastened his open lips over the brown disk, which puckered 
at once.  Frodo flicked the little bead in the center with his tongue tip, 
harder and harder as Gandalf squirmed and gasped with pleasure.  His 
cock was by now standing straight up, and Frodo thrust gently with his 
hips, stropping his own erection across Gandalf's.  Soon Gandalf arched 
his back, pushing his chest harder against Frodo's tongue, and he 
groaned as Frodo pressed his tongue tip hard down onto it.  Frodo 
paused and smiled, "You like having this done to you as much as I do, 
don't you?"

Gandalf managed to nod and gasped out, "Yes, you've concocted a most 
entertaining game."  He glanced toward the other side of his chest.  "Why 
don't you play it again?"

Frodo grinned.  Continuing to pinch the wet nipple with finger and thumb, 
he searched through the beard on the other side with provoking 
slowness, then began to lick and slurp noisily at the second little brown 
nub.   The wizard's hands trembled as they moved over Frodo's back, not 
wanting the hobbit's mouth to move away from his chest and yet longing 
to feel the little tongue on his cock.

At last Gandalf was so aroused that he leaned forward and hugged Frodo 
hard to himself, and soon their mouths were pressed together in a hungry 
combat of tongues as their hands clutched at each other's bodies.  After a 
short interval Gandalf tried to lower Frodo onto his back on the bed, but 
Frodo struggled out of his arms.  "I want . . . I want you to go inside me," 
he said softly.

 Gandalf stared at him, then objected, "But, Frodo, I don't think I could 
bring myself to enter you.  I would be too worried about causing you pain.  
Let me pleasure you as I did before."

"But I want us to do everything.  And I want to feel you really take me, and 
not just with your mouth.  That was wonderful, don't get me wrong, it was 
exquisite.  But the two things are so different.  I want something really 
intense, something unbelievably exciting for our second time.  I know you 
can give that to me."  The wizard frowned and did not reply.  Frodo 
continued, "Don't you want to do it?  I mean, if you didn't think it would 
hurt me, wouldn't you want to take me like that?"

Gandalf hesitated, unable to lie to Frodo.  "Well—yes, but Frodo, I don't 
want you to offer this because you think it would please me.  I'm more 
than happy with what you make me feel with your mouth and hands."

"But, Gandalf, you say you've had Elves as lovers—male and female.  
Don't you ever take them . . . that way?"  Frodo's huge, earnest eyes 
were fixed on the wizard's, and Gandalf felt his resolution melting.  It 
would undoubtedly be unimaginably exciting to penetrate Frodo, but it 
was too much to expect of the hobbit.  Frodo simply did not understand 
what would be involved.

Finally he replied, "Yes, I've often done it, but Elves are, after all, slightly 
bigger than I am, so the process is considerably less difficult than this 
would be."

Frodo looked disappointed, then brightened.  "Couldn't you use magic to 
make it easier?" he asked with hopeful eyes.  Gandalf blinked.  He rarely 
thought about his magic.  Sometimes many days went by without it 
entering his mind, and he had certainly never used it for sexual purposes.   
Would it work?  Almost certainly, but perhaps more important, would it be 
right to use it for such a purpose?  He usually used magic to protect or 
heal others.  In a general sense, what he would be doing with Frodo fell 
into that category.  But he would be using his protective powers to shield 
Frodo from pain he himself would be inflicting, for his own pleasure.  Not 
that he would ever deliberately hurt the hobbit, but did his intentions have 
anything to do with it?  He could see that, although Frodo's eyes were 
shining and eager—and so very beautiful--there was a distinct trace of 
trepidation there as well.  Still, the hobbit was obviously determined to try 
this, however nervous he was.

Suddenly Frodo rose and pivoted, kneeling astride Gandalf again, but 
now facing away.  The wizard's upright cock rested along the center of his 
buttocks and back.  Gandalf reached under Frodo's arms to pinch and 
twist the hobbit's nipples gently, even as he continued to agonize over 
whether he should use magic.  Frodo made thinking clearly very difficult 
indeed, as he moaned and slid his ass backward so that the cleft rested 
over Gandalf's erection, pressing it flat up onto the wizard's belly.  
Gandalf gasped as he felt the ass cheeks settle down onto his cock.  
Slowly Frodo began to move his hips forward and back, making the 
underside of the high-veined shaft rub against the sensitive skin of his 
cleft.  Soon Frodo was again panting hard with excitement.

Giving up any hope of talking such a determined young fellow—and 
himself—out of this,  Gandalf decided that he would go ahead and try to 
prevent Frodo's pain by magical means.  It certainly would not require a 
complex spell, and several simple ones occurred to him immediately.   
Gently he pushed on Frodo's back until the hobbit dropped onto his hands 
and knees.  "If you are certain you want this, Frodo, I shall try a spell, but 
if it does not work well enough and you feel pain, tell me, I beg you."

Frodo nodded and spread his knees wide as Gandalf positioned himself 
behind the hobbit.  "Take me, Gandalf, please, take me!" he gasped.  
With a few small gestures and a muttered incantation, Gandalf prepared 
to enter  the tiny puckered hole.  "That feels so strange," Frodo 
murmured, "but good, very soothing."

Closing his eyes, Gandalf put one hand on Frodo's buttock to steady 
them both, and with the other he positioned the tip of his cock at Frodo's 
anus.  He hesitated, then slipped a finger deep inside to gauge Frodo's 
reaction.  It immediately elicited a low moan of pleasure, and Frodo 
pressed his ass against the wizard's hand.  "More, Gandalf!  That doesn't 
hurt at all."   Vastly aroused but determine to remain cautious, Gandalf 
slipped a second finger inside, eliciting an even more enthusiastic moan 
from Frodo.  Gandalf noted how relaxed the sphincter was.  His spell 
seemed to be working.  Clenching his teeth and holding his breath, he 
removed the fingers and pushed the cock tip fairly hard against the 
opening.  Frodo jerked as it penetrated him, and Gandalf froze.  "It's . . . 
it's not too bad," Frodo managed to say, "It doesn't even hurt as much as 
when I do it with hobbits . . . And it's already going away . . . Now go in 
further . . . slowly."  Gandalf thrust gently, pausing between each stroke in 
case Frodo needed him to stop.  But Frodo was moaning rhythmically, 
clearly excited enormously by the wizard's cock.  At last Gandalf had 
nearly half of it inside Frodo, and he paused and swallowed hard, 
savoring the tight grip of the hot, velvety passage.  He began to pump, 
slowly and gently, passing one hand around Frodo to stroke his swollen 
shaft.  "Oh, yes!" Frodo groaned, and Gandalf increased the pace a trifle.  
Frodo dropped to his elbows, resting his head on his forearms as he 
whimpered with rising ecstasy.

Gandalf tried to focus on the hobbit's reactions, but soon his own bliss 
overpowered all other thoughts and sensations.  He had never felt 
anything as exciting as this, and he closed his eyes and continued to 
pump for long minutes.  "Oh, Frodo," he murmured at one point, but then 
he fell silent, aroused beyond words.

Finally Frodo began to quiver and pant even harder.  "Now, Gandalf, now, 
please, now!  More!  Yes!"  Gandalf thrust harder and was startled out of 
his complete absorption by a series of hoarse, loud groans—nearly 
bellows—from Frodo.  Feeling wet heat splash against his fingers, he 
assumed they were cries of pleasure.  He could not possibly have 
stopped to find out at that point, for he was hovering on the edge, 
desperate for release.  He pushed slightly harder into Frodo until a 
searing climax such as he had never experienced made him grimace and 
tense his body.  Wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over him, and he felt 
dizzy by the time it slowly began to recede.  As the sharp fillips of 
pleasure gradually eased, Gandalf curled forward, panting, to rest his 
body along Frodo's back.

After gasping for a few moments, Gandalf managed to say with concern, 
"My dear Frodo, did I hurt you there at the end?"

Frodo sighed blissfully, "No!  It was just so intense and it hit me so 
suddenly that I couldn't help crying out.  I hope Bilbo didn't hear."

Gandalf smiled and hugged Frodo, murmuring, "Mmm.  Can't we just stay 
this way?  For a few hours, perhaps?"

Frodo responded, "That would be lovely.  No, wait!  Not if you're going to 
fall asleep again.  Don't do that while you're on top of me—in me in fact!" 

Reluctantly Gandalf pulled out of Frodo, lying back against the pillow, 
saying tenderly, "It was wonderful for me as well—more wonderful than I 
could have dared hope.  I take it my little incantation worked?"  Frodo 
turned and crawled up to sit beside Gandalf.  "Oh, yes!  I hardly felt any 
pain.  In fact, it was extraordinary.  It was so exciting to feel you inside 
me,  big and powerful, driving such intense pleasure deep into me."  He 
took Gandalf's hand gently.  The wizard smiled drowsily at him, then 
yawned and slid down until he was lying on the bed.

Frodo followed him.  "Another little nap, old fellow?" he teased, but 
suddenly a huge yawn erupted from him as well.  Through half-closed 
eyes Gandalf saw this and laughed softly.

"I seem not to be the only one, young fellow."

Frodo smiled sheepishly.  "Yes, you've managed to wear me out.  Not 
surprising, really.  That climax was amazing.  Maybe a little nap would be 
a good idea."  Gandalf covered them both and enveloped Frodo in his 
arms, and very soon they were sound asleep.

********************************************************************

An hour or so later, Bilbo was puttering about in the kitchen, waiting for a 
cake to come out of the oven—his and Frodo's pre-birthday cake.  Since 
there would be so many people at the party on their actual birthday, Bilbo 
had planned a little private party a week in advance, so that he could 
celebrate in peace with his two favorite people.  From then on,  he 
realized, the preparations for the big party would make relaxed socializing 
difficult.  Gandalf had come early because it would take a long time to set 
up all his elaborate fireworks displays.

Glancing into the hallway, Bilbo saw a small stack of towels that he had 
left for Frodo to take to Gandalf's room.  Sighing a bit at the 
irresponsibility of youth, he went, picked them up, and headed for the 
guest room.  Once there, he tapped quietly but received no answer.  
"Must be napping," Bilbo thought.  "I surely would have noticed if he went 
out."  He opened the door with great care, glancing in and seeing the 
wizard indeed in bed and fast asleep.  Given the utter quiet with which 
hobbits can walk in all situations, Bilbo decided to sneak in, deposit the 
towels by the pitcher and basin, and leave without waking the wizard.  
There was plenty of time yet before dinner, and Gandalf must be 
exhausted after his trip.

He crossed the room and placed the towels on the table, then turned to 
leave and realized with a shock that Gandalf was not alone.  He could 
see a small, tousled head, instantly recognizable as Frodo's, tucked down 
under the wizard's chin, resting on his beard.  Bilbo's first thought was 
simply that the two friends had nodded off while talking, but it was not like 
Frodo to take a nap during the day.  The bed, which Frodo had made so 
neatly earlier that day, was a mess, the sheets and quilt twisted and 
hanging down at several places rather than being neatly tucked in.  Then 
he noticed something on the floor on the far side of the bed, and taking a 
step to his left, he spotted the slippers and gift wrapping, as well as 
Frodo's bright clothing and Gandalf's grey garments strewn carelessly 
about.  All their clothing seemed to be there, he noted.  They must be 
completely naked under that quilt.  Frodo's little smile and Gandalf's 
utterly serene expression reflected a bliss that surely went beyond that 
attributable to a meeting of long-parted friends.  Bilbo stared for what 
seemed like a long time, taking in all these details and hoping to discover 
some explanation other than the obvious one.  Then he shook his head 
and quietly left.  Outside in the hallway he paused, a frown on his genial 
face, pondering this startling new development.

His initial reaction was anger that his old friend Gandalf should have 
seduced his innocent young nephew, though he had to admit that Frodo 
was an adult now—or would be officially in a week—and he had long 
suspected that Frodo and his friends were not quite so innocent as their 
parents fondly believed.  He didn't like to pry, and he always felt 
embarrassed raising such things with Frodo—especially since he had had 
relatively little experience in these matters himself.

After fuming a bit, however, Bilbo began to think back over what had 
happened recently and how it might bear on the situation.  He recalled 
suddenly Gandalf's remark at lunch, about Frodo having asked him for a 
birthday present—of all odd requests.  That must have been the slippers 
he noticed on the floor.  And Frodo had been vehemently insistent upon 
Bilbo's sending invitation after invitation to the old wizard, despite the fact 
that Gandalf had not visited in nine years and had not answered the initial 
invitations.  Indeed, various bits of strange behavior on Frodo's part 
seemed now to hold more significance than Bilbo had realized at the time.  
Reluctantly he admitted to himself that this must be something both Frodo 
and Gandalf had wanted.  Perhaps Frodo had even seduced Gandalf.  
His teasing and banter with the wizard now began to look in retrospect 
like covert flirtation.

The smell of the baking cake sent Bilbo back to the kitchen to remove it 
from the oven.  Then he wandered into the sitting room, pouring himself a 
stiff sherry and sitting down to think.  How did he feel about all this?  What 
should he do when Gandalf and Frodo came out for dinner?  He 
considered not telling them that he knew, but then he realized that they 
would most likely see the towels and realize that he had been there.  For 
a moment he thought of sneaking back in to remove the towels, but then 
it began to seem better that the pair should realize that he knew about 
their relationship.  At least that would obviate an awkward revelation later.  
It did not bother him that two males were sleeping together in his house; 
he had nothing against such relationships in general, though his own 
dalliances, such as they had been, were with women.  He suspected that 
he might be feeling a tiny bit jealous of Frodo.  He wondered whether, if 
Gandalf had ever expressed such interest in himself, he would have 
welcomed it.  It had never occurred to him before, but looking back, he 
halfway thought he might.  Too late for that, though, and he dismissed the 
idea quickly.  At any rate, he resolved to try and be happy for them both 
and reassure them that he accepted their being a couple.  He still found 
himself bothered a bit by the whole thing, but given that the relationship 
was an unavoidable fact, a cheerful attitude would make things easier for 
all concerned.  Now it was time to get that cake out and go on preparing 
dinner—a very special dinner, not just for their birthday but now also to 
celebrate this new development.  At least, he tried to think of it that way.  
"If the state of that bed is any indication, they will have worked up hearty 
appetites," he chuckled to himself, glad to find that he could view the 
situation with some degree of humor.

*********************************************************************

A little while later, Gandalf moved and stretched, and Frodo opened his 
eyes and sat up.  They smiled at one another, too peaceful and content 
even to speak, and then leaned together for a lingering kiss.  Finally the 
delicious smell of newly baked cake drew them back to reality.  "I am so 
hungry!" Frodo said with a little laugh.

"I must say, I am too.   I ate relatively little at lunch," Gandalf replied.  
Frodo grinned, nuzzling into Gandalf's beard, "Thank goodness!  If you 
had not invited me back to share that pie, I think I might have given up on 
you altogether and left.  You're a difficult fellow to lure into bed, Gandalf 
the Grey, though once you're there, it turns out to be well worth the 
effort."  This led to another kiss, but a shorter one, as they realized that 
they would soon be called to dinner.  They both rose from the bed.

Gandalf looked around the somewhat chaotic room.  "There's no time for 
a bath.  I suggest we clean up a bit here."  He moved toward the pitcher 
and basin.  "I filled that with hot water, but I'm sure it is quite cold by now," 
Frodo remarked, then stopped abruptly, clutching the items of clothing he 
had been picking up.  "Towels!"

"Don't worry, there is a stack of them here," Gandalf said, turning toward 
the hobbit.

"No, it's not that," Frodo said worriedly.  "When I was getting the room 
ready for you, Bilbo put out some towels he had washed, but I forgot to 
fetch them in here.  Well, that is, I got distracted and never had a chance.  
I'm sure they weren't there when you came in!"  He stared at Gandalf in 
dismay.

"So Bilbo must have brought them in while we were asleep," the wizard 
replied, frowning.  "I was wondering—in the few moments when I could 
wrench my mind from thinking about you, my pet—just what we are going 
to tell Bilbo.  Now we can assume he knows.  I suppose we shall simply 
have to play it by ear, taking our cue from how he behaves toward us.  
Certainly I could not have kept this a secret from him—not as an old 
friend and a guest under his roof.  Have you ever hinted to Bilbo how you 
feel about me?"

"No.  And you?"

Gandalf shrugged.  "Never!  I was determined not to worry him by 
revealing my attraction to you, since as far as I could see, it would not 
come to anything.  Well, we must face up to it."  He picked up a towel and 
handed it to Frodo.  "Let's make use of these now that we have them.  
We have two birthdays to celebrate!"

"The most momentous birthday of my life," Frodo agreed, smiling.

It took the pair quite some time to clean up and dress, since they stopped 
at frequent intervals for kisses and caresses.  At last they heard the 
sound of a gong ring out.  Gandalf looked questioningly at Frodo.  "It's 
something Bilbo added a few years ago.  He got tired of shouting for me 
to come to the table—the corridors of Bag End are so long, and I 
frequently just couldn't hear him.  So now that gong is our five-minute 
warning for every meal.  It works quite well."  The pair faced each other 
for a moment, summoning their courage, then walked out to the kitchen to 
greet Bilbo.

He looked up with a smile as they entered—not an ordinary smile, but a 
rather knowing one.  He said to Frodo, "Don't worry, I am not going to 
scold you.  You look like a mischievous Took caught out in a prank, the 
way you used to when you would steal mushrooms from Farmer Maggot, 
remember?  And Gandalf is looking like your guilty accomplice.  I'm not 
upset, not at either of you."  He sighed.  "I'll admit I was at first, but I got 
over that.  I can't say I'm entirely reconciled to the idea, and it may be 
some time before I get used to it.  But there, it's a fact, and I'm . . . well, at 
any rate, I'm delighted that the two of you are so happy."  Frodo hurried to 
embrace his uncle, and Gandalf gave him an affectionate—and relieved--
smile.

After a moment, Bilbo cleared his throat loudly and stepped back.  "Since 
it's just a private little party for the three of us, I thought we could eat here 
in the kitchen and then have a quiet evening by the fire.  I assume you 
two will want to sit together," he added, gesturing toward the bench by the 
wooden table.  Gandalf sat, watching Frodo as the two hobbits bustled 
about, putting the various platters and dishes on the table.  Then Bilbo sat 
on one bench, and Frodo slipped onto the other as close to Gandalf as he 
could without actually climbing onto the wizard's lap.

Bilbo watched them staring into each other's eyes, then added with mock 
exasperation,  "I just hope you'll be in a frame of mind to appreciate some 
of this fine dinner I've gone to such trouble to make."

Gandalf tore his gaze away from Frodo to survey the table.  "It looks 
marvelous, as usual.  And a soufflé, my dear Bilbo!  Ah, you remember 
how much I love eggs."

"How could I forget?  I always lay in an extra supply of them when you 
come to visit—that and cold chicken and pickles."  He and Gandalf 
laughed, and Frodo felt annoyed for a moment that they were sharing a 
private memory.  But quickly he realized that Gandalf was trying to 
reassure Bilbo that the new relationship between the wizard and Frodo 
would not damage their old friendship.

Indeed, as the meal went on, Gandalf divided his attention between Frodo 
and Bilbo in a very diplomatic way.  Frodo tried to do the same, though he 
found himself staring up at Gandalf and wishing that they could at least 
embrace and kiss a bit.  But maybe that would offend Bilbo.  He had to 
admit that it hardly seemed polite.  He contented himself with reaching 
over at intervals during the meal and stroking Gandalf's thigh lightly, and 
the wizard glanced down fondly at him.  Indeed, toward the end of the 
meal, as Bilbo's excellent Old Winyards wine went to their heads a bit, 
Frodo's hand became more venturesome, and Gandalf's eyes when he 
looked at Frodo held a warmth that made the hobbit's insides turn to 
water.  Bilbo pretended not to notice all this, but at times a resigned smile 
played about his lips.

At last even the hobbits were stuffed, and Bilbo led them into the old, 
familiar sitting room, poking and feeding the fire until it was a merry blaze.  
After-dinner drinks were distributed, and the three pulled out their pipes.  
Gandalf and Frodo sat together on a small sofa, while Bilbo occupied his 
favorite armchair.  They talked for a long time, but in that relaxed, dark 
atmosphere, Frodo became a bit bolder in demonstrating his feelings.  He 
cuddled against Gandalf, who draped his arm around the hobbit, and 
Frodo buried his face in the wizard's beard—a gesture that, Gandalf 
realized with a little thrill of delight, was already becoming a habit that he 
would  treasure.  Such distractions eventually made conversation flag.  
Bilbo finally remarked, "I must say, you two were much more entertaining 
when you were still bickering and teasing each other."

Gandalf looked up, "Perhaps you're right, but you'll just have to put up 
with it.  I'm afraid I find this little fellow quite irresistible, and he seems 
rather fond of me."  Frodo looked up with delight and rose on his knees to 
brush his lips against the wizard's.  Bilbo pressed his own lips together, 
biting back his urge to make a sarcastic remark.  Jealousy again? he 
wondered.  He shook his head and distracted himself by tapping his pipe 
sharply on the ashtray and slowly filling it again from the jar beside him.  
He watched as the pair stared at each other and the wizard's fingers 
played lightly over Frodo's shoulder and cheek.  Finally he sighed loudly.  
"I would never have believed I would live to see a mighty wizard behaving 
so foolishly over a silly young hobbit, however pretty."

Gandalf glanced over at him.  "True.  In all my hundreds of years, it's the 
most foolish thing I have ever done."  Frodo's mouth dropped open in 
mock anger, and he pummeled Gandalf's chest lightly with his fists.  
Gandalf raised his hands to ward off the blows, looking at Bilbo again and 
shrugging.  "Such a childish little chap, too.  Look at this!"  He turned back 
to Frodo, gently seizing his wrists to stop the soft blows and looking him 
in the eyes with a puzzled frown that held a hint of a smile.  "I simply 
cannot understand why I should be so helplessly, devotedly in love with 
him."

Bilbo quickly looked away, gazing fixedly at the fire.  Frodo stopped 
moving and stared at Gandalf, breathing hard as he felt tears beginning to 
well up.  It was the first time either of them had used that word.   Certainly 
love was what he felt for Gandalf, but a tiny suspicion had lurked at the 
back of his mind that Gandalf might just be very fond of him—and 
beguiled by the pleasures they had shared that afternoon.  It thrilled him 
to hear Gandalf utter the word—and so openly, before Bilbo.  He hugged 
the wizard, pressing his face to the side of his neck and kissing it and 
finally pressing his teeth against the skin.  He felt a little shudder move 
through the wizard's body.  When Frodo settled back down, he was 
practically sitting in Gandalf's lap.

Bilbo rolled his eyes heavenward, uttered another exaggeratedly loud 
sigh, stood up, and stretched.  "Very sweet, I'm sure, but I have had 
enough for tonight.  Perhaps I will get used to this sort of thing eventually, 
but—well, I think I'll go to my study and work on my book."  Gandalf and 
Frodo made a few polite noises about him not going, but they were not 
very pressing, and Bilbo started for the door, turning to say, "Don't stay up 
too late—and I didn't mean that," he added as the two smirked at him.  He 
walked slowly along the corridor and entered the study, lighting a fire to 
take the mid-September chill out of the air.  He felt sad to leave the 
company of his two favorite people, when he so enjoyed sitting by the 
hearth with them.  Yet he felt happy for them and realized he was 
becoming resigned to the idea of their desire to be together.  "Perhaps 
after the first rapture wears off a little," he reflected, "they won't be quite 
so wrapped up in each other and will provide better company . . . though 
not for me," he added sadly to himself.  He realized that in a way this new 
development came at an ideal time.  Now Frodo would not be quite so 
much on his own after Bilbo left.  Surely Gandalf would visit the Shire 
more frequently.  Shrugging, he wrapped a shawl around his shoulders, 
sat at his desk, and dipped his pen in the inkwell—though he sat for a 
long while in thought before he set it to the paper.

Meanwhile Gandalf and Frodo remained pressed close together.  Frodo 
picked up some nuts from a small table and began cracking them.  
Gandalf shook his head.  "A huge meal only an hour ago and you're 
hungry again?"  He leaned down and ran his lips teasingly over the 
hobbit's neck, but Frodo pretended not to feel them.  With a little smile, 
Gandalf became more provocative, flicking his tongue across the hobbit's 
earlobe and then into the ear itself, before blowing gently into the wet 
opening.  Frodo sat struggling to suppress a smile and any reaction to the 
wizard's skillful mouth, but little gasps occasionally signaled how difficult 
this was.  Gandalf pulled back to look at Frodo's face, then with a little 
smile leaned over and pulled the entire ear into his mouth.  Despite 
himself, Frodo emitted a stifled moan, and the pair laughed briefly.

"Seriously though, Bilbo's right, we mustn't stay up too late," Gandalf said.  
"I have a lot of fireworks to set up before the party, and it is slow, delicate 
work."

"You've been setting off some spectacular fireworks already," Frodo 
answered with a little grin.

Gandalf clicked his tongue censoriously.  "Get your mind off that for a 
minute, can't you?  I mean it.  I don't want you hanging around and 
distracting me while I'm working.  Otherwise when I start setting the 
fireworks off during the party, half of them will probably launch straight 
into the ground!"

Frodo laughed.  "No, I promise.  I'll have plenty to do, looking after the 
deliveries and setting up tables and such," he said, adding, "But we'll both 
have to take the occasional break from our hard work."

"Yes, there is much in what you say."

They sat quietly for a little while.  Finally Gandalf said, "You said you had 
fantasies about you and me.  What did you think about us doing?"

Frodo gave a little embarrassed laugh.  "You don't want to hear about 
that."  Gandalf snorted.  "Of course not.  That's why I asked you."  He 
moved his hands to Frodo's ribs and tickled the hobbit.  "Tell me," he 
demanded.

Frodo writhed.  "All right, all right, I'll tell."  They both settled back, and 
Frodo began to speak.  "Well, at first it was nothing much.  When I was 
with someone else, I tried to imagine that he was you.  That was pretty 
difficult to do, though--no beard.  But later what I thought about got more 
elaborate.  It's odd, but you and I were never here in Bag End when it 
happened.  Perhaps even in a fantasy I didn't want to upset Bilbo.  But 
you and I would be doing it in the fields or in one of the private dining 
rooms at the Green Dragon or somewhere like that.  In my imagination, it 
was always you who started things; it was probably too frightening to 
think about me doing anything myself.  You'd reveal that you'd secretly 
loved me, and then you'd put me down where I could lie comfortably—
even out in the fields it would be just like a soft bed—and you'd take down 
my trousers and suck me.  That was basically it for a long time.  Then I 
started imagining it was happening in Rivendell. Bilbo told me so much 
about the Last Homely House that I could picture the hall with the fire and 
Elves singing and telling stories in the evening.  Bilbo has taught me 
many Elven songs, and he's always singing them around the house, so it 
was easy for me to imagine that part.  I couldn't think what the walls 
looked like, so it was always very dark there outside the small circle of 
firelight.  Anyway, I'd be sitting in a dark corner, listening to a beautiful 
Elven song, and you'd come over and sit with me.  I thought of us as 
already knowing each other, but not well, just acquaintances.  But as the 
song went on, you would start looking at me more and more, and finally, 
because we were in such a dark corner, you'd lean over and kiss me and 
put your hand down inside my trousers and stroke me until I came—
mmm, yes, it was like that, only not as good, of course, because it wasn't 
really you doing it.  That sort of scene worked very well when I was in bed 
in the dark doing the same thing to myself.  Sometimes it was really dark 
in that corner, dark enough for you to get down on your knees without 
anyone noticing and open my trousers and suck me."  By this time Frodo 
and Gandalf were both breathing a bit harder, with Gandalf continuing the 
light caresses across Frodo's bulging trouser-front that he had begun 
during the telling and watching the hobbit's face as Frodo stared into the 
flames.

Finally, his eyes a bit glazed with arousal, Frodo looked at Gandalf.   
"What about you?  Have you fantasized about me?  What did you imagine 
us doing?"

Gandalf gave a brief, breathy laugh, "We'll save that for another time."

Frodo smiled,  "Another time.  You will at least visit me more often now, 
won't you?  I mean, you stayed away so long mainly because of me, 
didn't you?"

Gandalf sighed, reluctantly coming back out of Frodo's fantasies to reality.  
"Yes, I will visit more often, I hope.  The situation in the world outside is 
gradually getting a bit worse, but so far I don't foresee any threat so great 
that it could keep me away from you for years on end."  He leaned in and 
kissed Frodo's cheek gently, then changed the subject, "I'm surprised, 
though, that you set your fantasy in Rivendell.  Quite the confident lad, 
thinking you could attract me there, with all those beautiful Elves about."

Frodo frowned at him indignantly.  "I think I'm getting a bit tired of hearing 
about all those beautiful Elves."

Gandalf wiped the smile from his face and gazed lovingly down into 
Frodo's eyes for a short time.  "What beautiful Elves?" he murmured.

Frodo broke into a self-satisfied little smile, "That's better!"  At once he 
leaned in and whispered in Gandalf's ear, "I want you again."  Gandalf's 
cock, already somewhat aroused during Frodo's story, stiffened further at 
this simple, passionate declaration.  But he put on a look of puzzlement 
and said, "I beg your pardon, what did you say?"  Frodo pressed his lips 
together and shook his head, but he whispered a bit louder, "I—want—
you—again!"

Gandalf looked doubtful.  "Well, I'm not sure . . . an old fellow like me 
might not be ready again so soon.  Why don't you check and see?"

Frodo grinned skeptically, but he reached down and thoroughly explored 
Gandalf's erection through the cloth, pretending to consider carefully 
whether it was swelling sufficiently.  Gandalf gasped as Frodo caressed 
him, but he managed to inquire coolly, "What do you think?  Is there any 
hope for it?"

Frodo burst out laughing, "Hope?!  I think you're more ready for it than I 
am!"  He whispered very softly into Gandalf's ear, "Do you know what 
else I used to fantasize?"

"How could I possibly know?"

"All right," Frodo said, and Gandalf could feel the hobbit's erection 
grinding slowly against the side of his belly.  "Well, this was the last time 
you actually visited us, and we sat with Bilbo in this room, as we did 
tonight.  And I looked at you and thought how big you were and how you 
could easily pick me up and carry me anywhere and do what you wanted 
with me.  I wished you really would—but though I caught you staring at 
me a couple of time, you didn't do it," he concluded in a breathless rush.  
Frodo threw his arms around Gandalf and pressed his mouth against the 
wizard's, which opened instantly and sucked in his soft, delving tongue.   
Frodo whimpered, and Gandalf put one arm around the hobbit's body and 
the other under his thighs, lifting him quickly and seemingly without effort. 

Realizing that he could not navigate safely through the maze of parlor 
furniture between them and the door, Gandalf reluctantly pulled back from 
the deep kiss.  Frodo whispered delightedly, "Mmm, it was just like this," 
and began to tongue the wizard's neck and ear.  He continued to do so as 
Gandalf got to the door and moved along the corridor, and at first the 
wizard made no attempt to discourage him.  Then Gandalf saw the light 
showing under the door of Bilbo's study.  Frodo was by now thrusting 
more quickly against Gandalf's side and uttering little moans and gasps of 
excitement as he sucked and nipped at the wizard's neck.  Gandalf 
whispered, "Do—unh!—try to be a little quieter—ah!--my dear Frodo, or 
Bilbo will—" but the hobbit's uncontrolled eagerness so aroused him that 
he paused outside the door of his room to kiss Frodo again, deeply and 
eagerly, before taking him in and shutting the door.

Quickly he crossed to the bed and tossed Frodo down onto it a little 
harder than he had intended.  The hobbit did not seem to mind but 
instantly began plucking at his shirt buttons, obviously determined to get 
rid of his clothes as soon as possible.  The wizard climbed onto the bed 
beside him, kneeling and hurriedly shedding his own clothes.  Soon they 
were both completely naked, and Gandalf pushed the hobbit onto the 
mattress and dropped down over the hobbit, pressing him deep into the 
mattress and kissing him hungrily.  Frodo writhed beneath him.  They 
could feel each other's fully rampant cocks sandwiched between them, 
Frodo's pressing into Gandalf's hard belly, the wizard's delving into the 
valley between the hobbit's thighs.

Finally Frodo tore his mouth away from Gandalf's and begged, "Take me 
again, Gandalf, please go inside me! Please, please, please, please."  He 
nuzzled the wizard's cheek and ear.

Gandalf paused, rising to rest on his elbows and staring down at Frodo.  
"Well, you don't have to beg.  I would love to.  But are you sure you want 
that again so soon?  Aren't you a bit sore from this afternoon?"

Frodo shook his head.  "No!  No, I'm fine.  Your magic did its work well, 
my own private wizard.  What happened this afternoon felt so wonderful.  
It has only left me a bit itchy down there—and I know how I want that itch 
scratched!  And it's my birthday--almost.  And now that I'm 'coming of 
age,' I want to enjoy it all I can!"  Frodo paused for a moment, then added 
more quietly, "After all, I realize you aren't going to settle down and stay 
here with me.  I've fantasized about that, too, but I know it won't happen."  
He looked up into Gandalf's eyes, and the wizard suddenly felt the same 
sense of impending separation—not within days, but certainly within 
weeks.  He longed to do everything he could to pleasure the hobbit, to 
make up to him for his own inevitable departure, to answer the appeal in 
those wide blue eyes.  Frodo reached up and pulled Gandalf's head down 
to his own, sucking just the middle of the wizard's upper lip into his mouth 
and tonguing it.   Gandalf closed his eyes and quietly enjoyed this.  He 
sighed when Frodo drew back, but the hobbit started kissing him gently 
but quickly all over his cheeks.  Trying to make light of the thought of 
separation, Gandalf murmured, "I can see that, from now on, when I need 
rest and relaxation, I will have to leave the Shire, not come here."

Frodo giggled and pushed his erection against Gandalf's belly.  "Yes, 
well, if I have anything to say about it, you'll come here more often—in 
more than one sense of that word."

Despite being thoroughly aroused, Gandalf winced.  "So that's what I'm in 
for, is it?  Bad puns and adolescent sexual innuendo?"

Frodo shrugged unconcernedly.   "Maybe I'll grow out of it."

Gandalf smiled.  "Well . . . not too soon.  You are charming just as you 
are—puns and all.  Actually, I must admit I rather liked that one—the 
sentiment expressed at any rate.  All right, you've convinced me.  Let me 
try going inside you, and I'll see if I can make this a particularly grand 
climax to this early birthday celebration—in more than one sense of that 
word."  He rose to his knees and gently turned Frodo over onto his hands 
and knees, then paused, frowning as if thinking deeply.  "Now, what was 
that spell I used?"  Frodo wriggled impatiently.  "It's on the tip of my 
tongue," Gandalf continued, "but I just can't . . ."

"Stop teasing!" Frodo demanded.  "You can't have forgotten!"

With a chuckle, Gandalf stroked Frodo's buttocks and softly recited the 
same little incantation he had used that afternoon, and Frodo sighed 
happily as he felt himself relax and become ready for the wizard.  
"Gandalf?"  The wizard paused as he placed his cock against Frodo's 
anus.  The hobbit turned his head and said, "Go in as deep as you can, 
will you, and go slowly.  I want this to be even more intense than the last 
time."  With a short thrust of his hips, Gandalf buried the tip inside the 
hobbit's ass.  Frodo's body jerked slightly, but he uttered no sound to 
indicate pain.  After a brief pause, Gandalf began to pump slowly, pushing 
a tiny bit further inside each time, giving Frodo plenty of time to express 
distress and to ask him to stop.  Instead the hobbit began to make low, 
growling moans far down in his throat with every thrust, and Gandalf's 
restraint began to disappear as he reveled in the taut, damp heat that 
gripped him.   Slowly he sank himself deeper until about two-thirds of his 
cock was buried in Frodo's ass.  At last the hobbit stopped moaning and 
after a pause gasped, "I think that's far enough."

"All right.  Let me know if you want me to pull out at all."

"Just a tiny bit . . . yes, that's it," Frodo responded.  Gandalf reached 
down to stroke Frodo's cock and  began to thrust again, abandoning 
himself to pleasure as his need to monitor Frodo's reaction diminished.  
Time seemed to stop for both as the wizard moved and Frodo, now nearly 
silent, savored the extreme sensations that the large cock was driving 
deep into him.  Eventually  the wizard felt his own fulfillment approaching 
and struggled to control it, waiting for Frodo's gratification to arrive.

"More, please," Frodo begged, and Gandalf realized that he had slowed 
his rhythm slightly.  Clenching his teeth, he thrust a bit harder, and soon 
Frodo threw back his head and groaned loudly, over and over, as his 
climax seized him and the wizard felt a hot little puddle gradually form in 
his palm.

Gandalf kept pumping as he felt the hobbit relax.  Now that Frodo was 
finished, he did not want to thrust any harder, but he realized that his own 
bliss remained tantalizingly elusive.  "I must have controlled myself a bit 
too well," he thought, "and I'm sure Frodo wants me to finish soon."  He 
paused briefly, reaching down and guiding one of Frodo's hands between 
his thighs to the testicle sac.  At once the hobbit began to flutter his 
fingers delicately over Gandalf's balls, and the wizard started thrusting 
again.  Yes, that was marvelous, that would do it, he realized.  
"Definitely," he murmured aloud.

"What did you say?" Frodo said, his voice muffled by the pillow on which 
he had rested his head after his climax.

"Nothing.  Just don't stop!" Gandalf gasped, and he grimaced and 
groaned as Frodo's delicate touch released him to soar into a lengthy 
flight of intense pleasure.  By the time the final tremors passed and he 
pulled out of Frodo, he was trembling with the effort and the bliss alike.  
He remained kneeling briefly, panting, as the hobbit relaxed onto his back 
and smiled up at him, a smile mirroring all the adoration and contentment 
he felt himself.  He turned and seated himself beside the prone hobbit, 
settling his back into the pile of pillows propped against the headboard.

Despite his braggadocio that afternoon, Frodo was obviously exhausted 
by their latest lovemaking, and he allowed Gandalf to tuck the sheets and 
quilt around him.  Before drifting off to sleep, Frodo whispered, "Gandalf, I 
shall love you and want you forever."

Gandalf murmured "Forever," and was silent for a long moment.  Slowly 
he said, "Alas, 'forever' for you is not the same as 'forever' for me."   But 
he realized from Frodo's soft breathing that the hobbit was already 
asleep.  Gandalf leaned down to kiss the smooth cheek gently and finally 
whispered, "I shall love you for as long as we have."  He wondered if, 
once he returned to the Uttermost West, he would even be able to 
remember Frodo.  His mind would be so different there.  If he was 
allowed to recall his time with Frodo, he knew he would remember their 
love literally forever.  He sighed.

Surprisingly, Gandalf did not feel particularly sleepy, despite the fact that 
his body was almost limp and supremely satiated.  His mind was abuzz 
with confusion.  He could not for a moment doubt his overwhelming love 
for the beautiful little creature beside him, and yet his rational mind could 
not stop speculating on what part this unexpected change would play in 
his own life—and his great tasks.  For years, Gandalf had resisted the 
idea of loving Frodo, simply assuming it was wrong.  He had expected to 
feel a great sense of guilt over having in some way violated his mission in 
Middle-earth.  Yet now that he had surrendered to that love, he felt no 
regret at all—only a conviction deep in his heart that this was right, that it 
was what he was meant to do.  Yet it seemed to make no sense.  He had 
been in Middle-earth for just over two thousand years, and although he 
had indeed had many casual encounters and somewhat extended affairs, 
he had never been in love, at least, not like this.  Why would he suddenly 
feel this way about a hobbit, however attractive?

It occurred to him that it was a bit like the way fifty odd years ago, he had 
felt determined to send Bilbo off with the Dwarves to fight Smaug.  It had 
seemed ridiculous at the time that he should choose a hobbit.  He had 
been following an inexplicable impulse—and yet it had worked perfectly.  
The dragon had been killed, the kingdoms east of Mirkwood restored, the 
Battle of Five Armies won—all due to a surprising extent to Bilbo.  Could it 
be that Frodo would play some similarly important role in the fight against 
Sauron?  The idea certainly seemed just as ridiculous.  The two cases, 
however, were very different.  He had never loved Bilbo, fond though he 
had been of the hobbit.  The stakes were so high that he had felt little 
compunction about sending him into an adventure that could prove 
dangerous.  All his instincts now, however, were to protect Frodo from 
ever having to undergo such a test, to keep him in the Shire and isolated 
from the troubles of the outside world, to visit him at intervals, and to 
experience again the joys that they had shared that day, for as long as 
Frodo lived.  Perhaps Frodo's love was a reward, after centuries of hard 
and sometimes dangerous work.  Perhaps he could even make a sort of 
home here with Frodo, even if it was one he could visit only now and 
then.  With great care, he lifted the blankets up off of Frodo's body, 
propping them to form a sort of little tent that would keep the hobbit warm 
but allow the wizard to gaze at his beautiful, relaxed body in the dim 
candlelight while he thought.

Could there be some link between Bilbo's adventures and Frodo?  Of 
course Bilbo was about to leave virtually everything he owned to Frodo, 
including the treasures he had acquired during his quest.  There could not 
be much of the gold from the trolls' hoard left, Gandalf was virtually 
certain.  Bilbo planned to take his little sword Sting with him—and hadn't 
he donated his mithril shirt to the museum in Michel Delving?  He smiled 
at the thought of hobbits gawking unwittingly at such a priceless object.  
Then his mind turned reluctantly to the one object that had haunted his 
thoughts for years:  that odd ring that Bilbo had found and tried to keep 
secret.  Gandalf had long had a strange, disturbing feeling about that 
ring—almost a queasy sensation in the pit of his stomach--when he 
thought about it.  He had tried from time to time to reason out what sort of 
a magical ring it could be, but so far he had come up with no plausible 
theories.  The idea of Frodo having the ring bothered the wizard a great 
deal, especially now, but he had to admit to himself that it would be best 
for all concerned if the thing stayed in a safe spot like Bag End.  "Even 
the Wise cannot see all ends," he told himself, as he so often did when he 
found himself inclined to speculate overmuch.  Carefully and quietly he 
slid down to lie beside Frodo and gently took the soundly sleeping hobbit 
into his arms, lowering the covers over them both and quickly joining him 
in slumber.




"Thrice Returned #2:  The Morning After"

Author:  Nefertiti  nefertiti_22002@yahoo.com
Rating:  NC-17
Pairing:  Gandalf/Frodo  (established relationship)
Warnings:  Angst, May/December romance (if you don't like the pairing, 
just don't read it, please)
Disclaimer:  I neither own these characters nor expect ever to receive any 
income from this story, which is offered purely for the enjoyment of fans.
Author's note:  This story is a sequel to my "Thrice Returned," which in 
turn was a sequel to Poncing Ponies' "Twice Given." It is book-based and 
occurs on the evening of September 22, 3001 (Shire Reckoning) and the 
morning of September 23.  During that evening, Gandalf has his 
argument with Bilbo over the Ring and persuades his old friend to pass it 
on to Frodo; that argument arouses the wizard's suspicions about the 
nature of the Ring.
 "The Morning After" fits into Chapter 1, "A Long-expected Party," and 
follows the paragraph ending "Gardeners came by arrangement, and 
removed in wheel-barrows those that had inadvertently remained behind."  
Essentially it covers the period of the next three sentences:  "Night slowly 
passed.  The sun rose.  The hobbits rose rather later."  Delightfully vague 
and ripe for slashy romance.
Many thanks to Elanor for betaing, for great feedback, and for 
enlightening exchange on the esoteric subject of Gandalf slash.

***********************************************************************
Frodo closed the round green door of Bag End, being careful not to slam 
it.  He did not think Gandalf could hear it from the guest room, and the 
wizard was probably sound asleep anyway.  Still, he did not want to risk 
waking him.  Frodo was completely exhausted, not only by the hard work 
of helping with Bilbo's party but even more by the task of seeing the 
guests off.  The house seemed different already with Bilbo gone.  He was 
very glad that Gandalf was still there to keep him company.  Of course, 
he would be very glad to have Gandalf there under any circumstances but 
especially now.

As he took off his jacket to hang it on one of the hooks in the hallway, he 
remembered the large envelope that Bilbo had left him.  It was still on a 
table in the sitting room, where he had set it after his earlier conversation 
with Gandalf.  He already missed his uncle, and  he went in and broke the 
wax seal to see if Bilbo had left him any personal communication along 
with the legal documents.  Sure enough, there was a brief letter in Bilbo's 
hand.  He glanced through it.  Nothing much, just a last farewell with a 
few instructions about Bag End, the papers, the gifts to their relatives, and 
the ring.  After he finished reading the letter, Frodo thought it odd that 
Bilbo was most concerned about his possibly losing the ring.  The other 
matters seemed more important.  Indeed, Frodo had been surprised to 
hear that Bilbo had bothered to leave the ring with him.  He had no 
particular interest in it.  True, it was a magic invisibility ring—but although 
that might occasionally be an amusing thing to have, Gandalf had told 
him not to use it.  What point was there in having it then?  The whole 
thing seemed a bit trivial and childish.  Still, he dutifully fastened the chain 
onto his belt and pushed the gold band down inside his trousers pocket.  
It certainly did seem oddly pleasant, knowing it was there.

The hobbit walked along the hallway, pausing at Gandalf's closed door.  
Should he go in and sleep with his lover and risk waking him, or should 
he simply go to his own room—a room he had not slept in for a week 
now?  He stood thinking, or trying to, for weariness made it difficult.  
Every night since that first wonderful one a week ago he and Gandalf had 
made love, but now they were both obviously too tired for that.  But they 
had also fallen asleep every night wrapped in each other's arms, and 
thinking of those blissful moments, Frodo decided he could not bear to 
sleep alone.  He would not have Gandalf with him much longer, he 
thought with a pang of sadness.  He silently opened the wizard's door.

Gandalf was indeed asleep, and Frodo did not want to disturb him by 
lifting the covers to slide in.  Instead he quietly undressed and curled up 
on top of the quilt, not touching the wizard but near enough to feel the 
warmth of his body, and covered himself with a spare blanket.  It had 
been a momentous night.  He was now the master of Bag End.  And even 
though he would greatly miss Bilbo, at least now he had Gandalf—and for 
another whole week!  Yesterday the wizard had mentioned that he could 
probably stay that long.  Of course, when he departed, Frodo would miss 
them both, and the comfortable hobbit hole would seem very big and 
empty.  He would be more alone, he realized, than at any time since his 
parents had died so long ago.  But he was basically of a cheerful 
disposition, and he thought, "For years now I've missed Gandalf when he 
left and longed every day for him to return.  In those days I did not have 
any hope that he would ever suspect I loved him—let alone turn out to 
love me back.  Now at least when I miss him, I know he'll come back just 
for me.  That is a definite improvement!"  And he fell asleep with a little 
smile on his face.

In the morning, like the other hobbits in the Shire, Frodo slept rather late.  
When he finally woke, he was lying on his side facing Gandalf, who was 
sitting up, leaning against the pillows, his arms crossed, staring 
abstractedly at him.  Feeling refreshed and happy, Frodo said, "Good 
morning!  I didn't get a chance to tell you that the fireworks last night were 
wonderful.  The real ones, I mean.  No time for the other kind."  He 
expected some sort of teasing rebuke for that hoary joke, but Gandalf just 
smiled vaguely at him, obviously not paying much attention to what he 
said.

Frodo knew he would have to get up soon and deal with the aftermath of 
Bilbo's departure—most notably the prying of various greedy relatives.  
But he wanted to put that off—especially since he was distinctly feeling 
that it would be nice to linger with Gandalf for some talk and caresses--
and maybe something more.  The hobbit rolled onto his back, looking up 
at Gandalf.  The blanket slid down to his waist, and although the morning 
air was a bit chill, he did not pull it up.  He thought about how the wizard 
loved to kiss and lick his small pink nipples, or to lingeringly caress them 
with his fingers, and something besides the cold made him shiver.  He 
was disappointed when Gandalf did no more than move his gaze briefly 
over the relaxed nipples to the flat belly and then back to Frodo's face.

"Perhaps he's still tired from last night," Frodo thought.  It had been a very 
elaborate fireworks program, and Gandalf had set off all the pieces 
himself, not trusting anyone else to handle the intricacies of the various 
fuses.  Still, the wizard did not look all that tired, and he had awakened 
before Frodo himself.  Frodo wasn't about to give up so easily.  After all, 
last week when Gandalf had first arrived,  it had taken Frodo forever to 
break down his resistance and get him to admit his love for the hobbit.  
Perhaps more blatant means were necessary.  He moistened his lips and 
pursed them slightly, twisting a bit so as to let the blanket slide even 
further until the curly hair of his lower abdomen was just visible.  It would 
be so easy for the wizard to slip his hand under that blanket.  Frodo was 
pleased to see Gandalf's eyes linger a bit longer as he looked down at his 
torso, but again he returned his serious, thoughtful gaze to the hobbit's 
face.

"All right, one more try and I give up," Frodo privately resolved.  Aloud he 
said, "There's a lot of clearing away and cleaning up to be done today, 
but I wouldn't mind starting by polishing your long staff a bit."

Gandalf gave him a reproachful little frown, but then looked down at the 
quilt, saying nothing.  Frodo was a bit miffed.  Two horrid jokes in a row 
and no retort!   Gandalf must be more tired than he looked.  The hobbit 
sighed and began to roll away to get out of bed.  But suddenly the wizard 
pulled him onto his back again.  Gandalf leaned on his elbow, gazing 
down intensely into Frodo's eyes.  "You know how much I love you, don't 
you, Frodo?"

Frodo smiled up at him.  This was much better!  Maybe now he would get 
some of what he wanted.  His cock stirred at the thought.  With a happy 
little sigh of anticipation he replied, "Of course I do.  This has been the 
most wonderful week of my life, learning just how much."

Gandalf did not smile in response.  "I want you to remember it, Frodo, 
after I leave.  If I do not return or send messages for long stretches of 
time, you must remember it."

Frodo's smile faded.  He had expected a conversation like this, but not 
now.  A week was soon enough.  Why think about it until they had to?

Gandalf saw the puzzlement in his face.  "I know it is difficult for you to 
imagine, Frodo.  You have never gone journeying.  You can have no idea 
of the great distances between the various places I must visit when I am 
not here in the Shire.  Some of them are very remote, with travel difficult 
and accommodation not to be found.  Often I need to consult documents 
in archives, and those are held in very few spots, often hundreds of miles 
apart.  And then there are destinations, equally distant, where I must go 
and meet with others among the Wise, on matters of great weight.  I 
assure you, I would not leave you for these things if they were not vitally 
important.  I hope you will try to understand."

Frodo became progressively sadder and more worried as he listened to 
this speech, and his slight arousal of a few moments before faded.  "I will 
try.  I know I'm lucky that such an important person as you would want to 
spend even a little time with me.  I must say, that's what I really can't 
understand."

This finally drew a smile from Gandalf, and he kissed Frodo gently on the 
cheek.  "Frankly, neither can I—the whole thing puzzles me greatly.  I 
only know that I want to spend more than a little time with you.  A great 
deal of time, in fact.  More than I can.  Much more."

Frodo pressed his lips together regretfully.  "I wish I could crawl inside 
that bag of yours and go wherever you go."

Gandalf chuckled, though his eyes remained sad.  "In a way that would 
be wonderful, but you would be a most distracting piece of baggage, Mr. 
Baggins.  After my experiences of this past week, I don't think I should get 
anything done at all.  You would be a danger to Middle-earth! . . . . Good, 
I like to see you smiling.  But seriously, my dear hobbit, if these were 
ordinary travels, I would take you with me no matter what difficulties that 
entailed.  But I most definitely do not want you becoming involved in the 
troubles of the world outside.  I know them well, and it is my responsibility 
to deal with them.  And I, along with some others, have the power to do 
so—I sincerely hope!  But I want you to stay here, in the Shire where you 
belong, safe and happy, very, very happy—and I shall do whatever I can 
to keep you that way."

Frodo nodded, although he was puzzled by the wizard's vehemence.  
"Gandalf, I am happy.  I know I shall miss Bilbo, but he's doing what he 
has so long wanted to, and I must admit, I like the idea of being the new 
Mr. Baggins of Bag End.  And now I'll know that you'll come back to me, 
whenever you can.  Will you think of this as your home from now on, 
Gandalf?  Please, say you will."

The wizard smiled rather wistfully.  "I should like to, Frodo.  When we first 
made love last week, I thought it might be possible, and maybe it is.  But 
in all my time in Middle-earth, I have never been able to feel that any 
place is really home for me here."  He paused, glancing away for a 
moment, and said very quietly, "After all, I have a home elsewhere."  He 
looked back at Frodo.  "I probably shall go on thinking of Bag End as your 
home—the place where I can come and find the most wonderful welcome 
in all of Middle-earth."

Gandalf gazed down into Frodo's eyes for a long time, with a hint of a 
frown on his face, stroking the hobbit's soft cheek.  Frodo's puzzlement 
returned.  Why was Gandalf telling him all this now, and why was he so 
serious?  And where was his home?  But he sensed that the wizard was 
not going to explain it all to him—perhaps could not explain it. 

Gradually Gandalf began to breathe more deeply as he stared at Frodo, 
and abruptly he rolled slightly to prop himself on his elbows above him, 
kissing him deeply and with an almost savage fervor.  Frodo was startled.  
He had been longing for Gandalf to embrace him and caress him, but he 
was not prepared for such intensity.  The wizard's lips and tongue and 
teeth seemed to be demanding so much from him, and he struggled 
slightly in Gandalf's arms.  But as the wizard's tongue claimed his entire 
mouth and he felt fingers find his nipples, pinching and twisting them, he 
relaxed and let Gandalf's insistent mouth and hands excite him, swiftly 
and irresistibly.

Frodo's cock soon was straining upward against the wizard's body.  By 
now Gandalf had moved to his neck, sucking at his flesh with an open 
mouth and writhing tongue.  Then the wizard's teeth were pinching bits of 
his delicate skin, always stopping just short of hurting him.  Joy flowed 
over Frodo, and yet at the same time he was worried and even a bit 
frightened by the wizard's sudden and overpowering need for his body.  
Yet Gandalf was rapidly arousing a similar need in him, and his erection 
throbbed almost painfully.  He wrapped his legs around the wizard's 
waist, thrusting against him and wordlessly inviting penetration.  Gandalf 
invoked the little spell that they both knew well by now.  The familiar 
relaxation of Frodo's anus followed, and Gandalf pushed quickly into 
him—though he went no deeper than usual.  By now they knew much 
about each other's desires and limitations, and as always Gandalf took 
great care not to injure his smaller partner.  As the wizard entered him, 
Frodo arched his chest and pressed the top his head back into the pillow, 
humming with pleasure.

Gandalf thrust no harder or deeper than usual, but he was moving far 
more quickly, his breath hissing in rhythmic bursts through his clenched 
teeth.  He wrapped one arm around Frodo's body, holding the hobbit 
firmly against him and cupping his buttocks with his long fingers.  Frodo 
whimpered as the wizard's other hand slid between their bodies and 
stroked and pulled his cock insistently.  Soon he felt himself reaching the 
brink.  "Please, Gandalf . . . it's . . .  it's . . ." he begged frantically, and 
almost at once he moaned in blessed release as he sprayed hot streams 
up over both their chests.  Gandalf immediately thrust even faster, moving 
with an impatience and desperation that Frodo had not sensed in him 
before.  Soon the wizard grimaced as his ecstasy hit him, groaning loudly 
with each intense spasm, gradually slowing his pace but continuing to 
thrust hard, milking every last bit of pleasure until it faded away 
completely.

The whole thing had taken only a very few minutes, but Frodo was dazed 
and wonderfully satiated  by its force.    Gandalf again rested on his 
elbows above Frodo, his eyes closed, taking deep gulps of air.  Finally he 
gently arched his arms up over the hobbit's head, enveloping him in his 
beard as he bent down to kiss his forehead.  Frodo reveled in the warmth 
and security of Gandalf's body and wriggled to free his arms so that he 
could embrace the wizard.  As he did so, he realized that Gandalf's body 
was still tense—not placid and blissfully relaxed, as it always had been 
after they made love.  Finally Gandalf lifted his head again, and Frodo 
looked up into his face with a worried expression.  Seeing this, the wizard 
smiled and licked the tip of Frodo's nose lightly.  Frodo laughed, relieved, 
and stared adoringly up at him.

Reluctantly Gandalf rose and moved off the bed.  "I must bathe quickly 
and go out for a while," he said.

Frodo sighed.  "Yes, I have to get a bath, too, and face the repercussions 
of Bilbo's departure.  In case you're hungry again after last night, there's a 
bit of bread and fruit.  You know where everything is.  Just help yourself."

Gandalf turned back to him, smiling regretfully.  "It's odd to think that Bilbo 
won't be there, puttering around the kitchen."  Frodo nodded, then moved 
toward the chair where he had draped his clothes.

"Frodo, I . . ."

Frodo turned back.  "Yes?"

"Nothing.  Well, I . . . I'm going into the village on some errands.   For one 
thing, I want to check on my horse.  Just to make sure that the lads at the 
stable are treating her well."

Frodo looked at him curiously and shrugged.  "They always do, don't 
they?"

Gandalf replied, "Yes, yes, but it never hurts to check.  At any rate, I have 
been away so long that they have some new fellows working there now.  
And I have a few other things to do.  I'll be back this afternoon.  Let me 
know if you need anything from the village."

Frodo grinned.  "You always have what I need, my dear wizard, and you 
don't have to fetch it from the village."

Gandalf laughed softly.  "I'm glad you realize that, my dear hobbit."

And with that Frodo turned again to pick up his clothes, reflecting that if 
he could just get through the next few hours, the rest of the coming week 
would be quite delightful.

Gandalf stood silently watching him.  As Frodo moved toward the door, 
he saw the gold chain attached to the belt and hanging down into the 
trousers pocket.   He winced, for that hidden gold band was driving him 
away from his beloved hobbit.  For how long, he wondered.  It didn't 
matter.  He had to find out about the Ring, for Frodo's sake as much as 
any one else's.  Still, he had not been able to bring himself to tell Frodo 
he was leaving that day.  The hobbit had enough worries, having to face 
his relatives.  He would put off disappointing Frodo so cruelly until the last 
minute.  They had had one week of delight together.  He suspected that it 
would have to do for a long time.


At the end of Chapter 1, in the afternoon, Gandalf abruptly returns and 
tells Frodo he must leave immediately, and the chapter ends, "Frodo did 
not see him again for a long time."


TBC in  "Thrice Returned #3:  A Long-Expected Return"



“Thrice Returned #3:  A Long-Expected Return”  (3/11)

Author:  Nefertiti  nefertiti_22002@yahoo.com
Rating:  NC-17
Pairing:  Gandalf/Frodo  (established relationship)
Warnings:  May/December romance;  moments of angst.
Disclaimer:  I own no rights and expect no income.
Summary:  After a nine-year absence, Gandalf appears at Bag End to 
reveal what he has learned about the Ring—and to renew his romance 
with Frodo.
Feedback:  Always welcome.
Author’s note:  This story is book-based and begins on April 12, 3018, 
with Gandalf’s arrival at Bag End, as described in Ch. 2 of FotR.  It spans 
the two and a half months he spends with Frodo before setting out in late 
June on the journey that will end with his imprisonment by Saruman in 
Orthanc.  That departure occurs in Ch. 3, “Three Is Company.”

This series began with a sequel to Poncing Ponies’ lovely story, “Twice 
Given”; my thanks to her for welcoming a sequel by another hand and 
being so encouraging and helpful.  Many thanks also to Elanor for 
betaing, encouragement, wonderful suggestions, and engrossing wizard-
slash discussions.


That evening, as Sam was walking home and twilight was fading, there 
came the once familiar tap on the study window.

Frodo welcomed his old friend with surprise and great delight.  They 
looked hard at one another.

“All well, eh?” said Gandalf.  “You look the same as ever, Frodo!”

“So do you,” Frodo replied; but secretly he thought that Gandalf looked 
older and more careworn.


Frodo stared after the wizard as he walked into the sitting room.  He was 
baffled and hurt.  Gandalf had been gone for nine years and yet had not 
embraced or kissed him.  With a worried little frown on his face, he 
followed Gandalf into the warm room, where a fire was burning to chase 
away the spring chill.  The wizard dropped heavily into a chair and dug 
the heels of his hands into his eyes.  His head dropped onto the back of 
the chair, and Frodo realized that he must be exhausted.  He moved over 
to stand in front of the chair, looking at Gandalf uncertainly.  Gandalf 
rolled his head slightly to the side,  blinked at him, and smiled.

“I’m sorry, Frodo, but I am terribly tired.  I rode long and far today—farther 
than I should have, but I was so anxious to see you again and I could not 
bear the thought of stopping at an inn only a few hours’ journey from 
here.  My horse is undoubtedly thinking unkind thoughts about me as a 
result!  And then walking from the village and up the Hill, it hit me how 
very weary I am.  Well, at any rate, come here, my darling hobbit!”

He sat up slightly and held his arms open.  Frodo broke into tears of joy 
as he climbed into the wizard’s lap to find himself in a fierce embrace.  He 
threw his arms around Gandalf, burying his face in the wizard’s beard and 
neck.  They remained still a long time, and then Gandalf pushed Frodo 
away slightly, holding his head between his hands and looking slowly at 
his face, ending with his brimming eyes, then joined his lips with Frodo’s 
for a leisurely, gentle kiss.  At last Frodo pulled back to stare at the 
wizard’s face with relief and exasperation warring in his mind.  Gandalf 
brushed the tears from his cheeks.  “It has been so long—“ the hobbit 
began, but Gandalf interrupted.

“I am all too aware of it, my dear Frodo.  But it could not be helped—“

“But, Gandalf--”

“I hope you at least received my letters.” 

“Yes, I did get some letters from you quite a while back, but I was 
beginning to get really worried.  There has been nothing at all for over a 
year and a half!  I have been imagining all sorts of dreadful things.  If I 
could only know you were safe, the waiting would not be nearly so bad.”  
Frodo looked down into his lap, his lip trembling.

Gandalf said firmly, “Frodo!  I told you that I would not always be able to 
return, and I told you that I would not often be able to send letters.”  He 
smiled slightly.  “You are spoiled here in the Shire, having a fine postal 
system.  You should be proud—it’s the best in Middle-earth.  
Unfortunately, most places do NOT have one.  Outside these borders, I 
am usually dependent on finding someone reliable traveling this way who 
can pass on a message to someone else and so on until it reaches 
someone who MIGHT be going to the Shire.  As I told you so long ago, 
however, no matter how long I am gone or how seldom you receive 
letters, I love you very much and wish I could be here with you far more 
often.”   He put his fingers under Frodo’s chin and raised the hobbit’s face 
to his, looking anxiously into his eyes.  Frodo struggled to produce a 
smile.

“I hope none of my letters went astray.   I do have a friend who lives far 
east of here, but he often travels this way and puts letters into the post for 
me.   How many did you receive?”

“Eighteen.”

“Yes, that would be about right.  There cannot have been more than two 
or three that went astray.  Better than I would have expected.”

Frodo sighed.  “I’m glad you at least wrote those.  I have read them over 
so many times.”

Gandalf smiled sadly.  “You kept them all, did you?”

“Of course!  They’re right here.”  Frodo scrambled down from Gandalf’s 
lap and fetched a little leather folder from a nearby table, clambering back 
into the wizard’s chair.

“See, neatly preserved—except for all the blots from my tears.”

Gandalf leafed through the sheets, then gave Frodo a bemused look.  
“There are NO blots here at all.”

Frodo smiled reluctantly.  “Well, there would be if I didn’t always have a 
handkerchief about me.”

Gandalf stared at him sympathetically.  “Do you really cry over my letters, 
Frodo?”

Frodo swallowed and replied very quietly, “Sometimes.”

Gandalf closed his eyes with a sigh and hugged the hobbit tightly to 
himself, rocking slightly as if comforting a child.  Finally he released his 
hold on  Frodo.  “And after all that you still love me, my sweet hobbit?”

Frodo’s serious blue eyes stared at him in surprise.  “Well, of course!”

Gandalf brushed the hobbit’s hair back off his forehead.  “You should be 
glad, really, that the Shire is so far from where I usually must be.  Its 
isolation is what has allowed you and all these charming hobbits to live 
this simple, safe life.  And that is what drew me here to begin with, many 
years ago.”

He took Frodo by the shoulders and looked into his eyes steadily.  “Frodo, 
listen to me.  I would rather keep you safe and lonely than be with you 
more often and put you, along with the rest of Middle-earth, at risk.  Can’t 
you understand that?”

Frodo stared at him forlornly and said in a small voice, “Yes . . . I’m sorry, 
Gandalf.  It’s just that it’s SO hard to wait.”

“I know, but by holding onto your love for me and waiting, you help me a 
great deal, you know.”

“How?”

“Every day that I am gone, I think about you—here in this protected part 
of the world—and it helps me to go on and do what I must.  But I fear that 
it may no longer be possible to keep the Shire safe.  The situation in the 
world outside is getting far worse.  I have learned things that lead me 
strongly to suspect that events are building to a crisis—and that you, alas, 
may well be involved in them.  The only bright spot is that it may be 
possible that we will not need to be apart for quite such long stretches 
from now on.  I simply do not know anything for certain yet.”  Frodo 
looked at him with a puzzled expression.  Gandalf said, “Well, it is 
complicated, and I shall tell you later.  But right now, what of the fabled 
hobbit hospitality?”

“Of course, you must be hungry and thirsty as well as tired.  Or did you 
have dinner on the way?”

“No, only lunch, and that quite early.  I could use some supper and a bit of 
good Shire wine.”

Frodo climbed down.  “I’m afraid I have nothing special to give you.  I ate 
long ago, and I didn’t know you were coming, obviously.  I certainly don’t 
have any . . . what was it, cold chicken and pickles?”

Gandalf smiled.  “Yes, but whatever you have will be fine.  You know I like 
all sorts of Shire food, even the simplest.  And may I help myself to the 
wine, which I presume is kept in the same place?”

“No, don’t get up, I’ll fetch you a glass.  There is still a bit of the Old 
Winyards left, you will be glad to know.”

“Indeed! . . . Thank you, Frodo.”  He took an appreciative sip, then rested 
his head on the back of the chair with his eyes closed.

“Would you like to move into the kitchen, or shall I bring your supper in 
here?”

“Here, if you don’t mind.  It will be a considerable effort to move, and I 
shan’t attempt it until I am off to bed—with a nice warm bath before, if it is 
convenient.”

“Of course.  You know it takes almost no time to fill the tub.  But surely we 
can talk before you retire—just a little.  You must tell me WHY you’ve 
been gone so long.”  He hesitated.  “I was almost starting to think that . . 
.”  He looked down with an embarrassed little smile.  “Well, that maybe all 
those beautiful Elves had made you forget an ordinary little hobbit.”

Gandalf gave him a fond smile.  “Not all the beautiful Elves in Middle-
earth could do that.  And you are hardly ‘ordinary,’ though I suspect that 
now you are fishing for compliments.”  He took Frodo’s hand and studied 
it for a moment.  “But seriously, my dearest hobbit, don’t you think I have 
such thoughts about YOU?  I realize that nine years is a large portion of 
your young life.  Sometimes I think how foolish it was of you to fall in love 
with me—and I must admit that there are days when I wonder if my 
absence will be too much for you to bear and you will . . . will finally 
become disgusted with me and sensibly find someone here in the Shire, 
some attractive, reliable hobbit who can be with you all the time.  As I 
rode here, I wondered just a tiny bit whether I would find you still living 
here alone—No, wait!  I know that you love me, but . . . well, camping 
alone in a forest far from here, it is all too easy to fear that your love could 
eventually be stretched to the breaking point.”

Frodo shook his head anxiously at intervals during this speech, and he 
was again fighting tears by its end.  “Gandalf!  No!  Don’t EVER think that!  
I’d wait no matter how long it took!”

Gandalf looked at him silently for a moment, then murmured,  “That is 
wonderful to hear, Frodo.”  They looked at each other somberly for a 
moment, and then Gandalf cleared his throat.  “Now, what about this 
supper I hear so much about and see so little of?  Once I’ve disposed of 
that, yes, a bit of chat and an after-dinner pipe might not be too 
strenuous.  Just don’t be surprised if I nod off in the middle of it.”

Within twenty minutes Frodo returned with a tray bearing plates of eggs, 
bread, dried fruit, and a small tart.  He had thought the wizard might have 
dozed off, but the wine seemed to have revived Gandalf a bit.  The hobbit 
moved a small table within Gandalf’s reach and set the tray on it.  Once 
he had everything arranged, he climbed again into the wizard’s lap and 
sat leaning against him and reaching up to touch or kiss him occasionally.  
Gandalf put one arm around him and endeavored to eat with the other.

After a few minutes he remarked, “You are making this remarkably 
difficult, my dear hobbit, but don’t you dare move.”  He kissed Frodo’s 
forehead, then returned to his meal.

When Gandalf was finished, Frodo stoked the fire, then came back to 
rejoin the wizard in his chair, kneeling and resting one knee between 
Gandalf’s legs and the other beside his thigh.  He leaned his body against 
the wizard’s, putting his arms around his neck and nuzzling into his beard 
as he so loved to do.  Gandalf softly stroked his back and shoulders.  

Eventually Frodo pressed his mouth against the wizard’s, and the gentle 
kiss went on and on, with neither willing to break it.  At last Frodo ran his 
tongue insistently against Gandalf’s closed mouth, moving his hips 
slightly against his body.  The wizard drew back, looking into Frodo’s 
eyes with a little smile.  “You mustn’t get your hopes up tonight, Frodo.  I 
am simply too tired.  I assure you, if I were not . . .”  He stroked the 
hobbit’s cheek.

Frodo smiled, trying to hide his disappointment.  His contact with the 
wizard’s body was making him harden rapidly, however—especially as he 
remembered the times he and Gandalf had made love nearby, on the rug 
in front of the fireplace.  He moved back slightly and shifted uneasily as 
his trousers tightened around his erection.  Gandalf could see this, as well 
as the hobbit pressing his lips together and trying to breathe normally, 
willing his arousal to recede.  He made as if to climb down from the 
wizard’s lap, but Gandalf pulled him against his body once more.  “I 
suppose, though, that it would not take much effort for me to pleasure 
you, my darling hobbit—as long as you do not expect anything TOO 
lively.”

Frodo was panting slightly, and he looked pleadingly into the wizard’s 
face, then rested his head on Gandalf’s shoulder, moving his body 
rhythmically against the wizard’s side.  He whispered, “Oh, yes, Gandalf . 
. . please . . . I know you’re exhausted—but it wouldn’t take long, I 
promise!”

Gandalf smiled.  “Yes, as an expert on fireworks, I should say you have a 
very short fuse tonight . . .  Oh, fine!  Now you have ME making silly puns.  
At any rate, show me what you want, Frodo.”

Frodo took the wizard’s hand and gently kissed it on the back and on the 
palm, then  pulled it down to his bulging trousers.  Gandalf stroked his 
erection gently, turning his head to watch the pleasure passing over the 
face lying so close to his own.  The hobbit looked dazed, with his mouth 
slightly open and gasping each time the wizard’s fingers fondled the 
length of his shaft.  His eyes were pressed shut.

“Look at me, Frodo,” Gandalf whispered, and Frodo managed to open his 
eyes languorously and stare into the wizard’s, whimpering softly with 
bliss.  Gandalf looked lovingly at him for a while, then ran the tip of his 
tongue around Frodo’s slack lips, slowly, delving slightly inside as the 
hobbit opened wider and flicked his own tongue against Gandalf’s.  Both 
reached at the same time to untie Frodo’s trouser-laces and laughed 
briefly as their hands bumped each other.

“I’ll do it,” Frodo murmured, “just keep going!”

As the hobbit unlaced his trousers, Gandalf caressed his erection again 
then slipped his hand down inside the loose cloth.  He found the slender, 
straight cock upright, moist with heat and oozing drops at the tip.  He 
pulled and stroked it, rubbing his thumb over the tiny slit on the end, 
massaging the precum over the velvety surface.  Frodo’s head lolled on 
his shoulder, and his eyes closed in bliss.  “Look at me,” Gandalf said 
again.  Frodo’s blue eyes were glazed with approaching ecstasy.  
“Gandalf . . . yes, yes . . .” he whispered.

The wizard removed his hand suddenly, and Frodo squeaked in 
disappointment, but Gandalf had only reached to pick up his napkin from 
the table.  He pushed it loosely down inside the gaping trousers to cover 
the tip of Frodo’s throbbing erection, before he resumed stroking, now 
faster and harder.  The wizard’s other hand, which had been cupping the 
hobbit’s buttocks, slipped down between his legs and began to gently 
massage the back of his testicles.  Frodo jerked and thrust against 
Gandalf’s hand, gently at first, then hard as he buried his face in the 
wizard’s shoulder, muffling his loud groans as the bursts of pleasure 
coursed through him.

Gandalf pulled Frodo closer and feathered swift kisses across his cheeks 
and mouth as the hobbit gradually stopped panting and focused his eyes 
again.  The wizard carefully squeezed the napkin into a ball and removed 
it from Frodo’s trousers.  “I think I managed to save us from a rather 
sticky aftermath,” he said.

Frodo felt inside his trousers, then laced them up loosely.  “Yes, not a 
drop missed.  Neatly done!”  He sighed contentedly.  “That was 
absolutely, marvelously, splendidly wonderful.   But I’M the one that’s 
supposed to be welcoming YOU.  Are you sure you don’t want me to—“

“It’s very tempting, young fellow . . . but I really do not feel like it—for 
once!  Though your simple meal and excellent wine have woken me up a 
bit.  But if looking into your beautiful eyes and having you in my arms did 
not arouse me—then absolutely nothing could tonight.  But I assure you, I 
very much enjoyed watching you come for me.  I feel spectacularly 
welcomed!   I shall be content for now to talk and hold you for a while.  It 
is SO good to be back.  And then I shall be off to bed, to SLEEP, mind 
you—though with you in my arms.  Tomorrow I shall make love to you in 
every room in Bag End if you like!”

Frodo laughed.  “That’s big talk, my dearest wizard!  I may hold you to 
that, and there are a great many rooms in this hole.”

Gandalf frowned.  “Yes . . . well, I stick by my offer, but maybe you should 
give me a few days to accomplish it.”

“Gladly!  But you will be staying for more than a few days this time—say 
you will!  You must!”

Gandalf replied, “To some extent it depends on what we decide about the 
things I’ve come to discuss with you.  But I think it’s quite possible that I 
would be able to stay with you for a while.  Perhaps, given that the 
weather is so pleasant, I can move my horse from the village stable.  You 
own that little field across the road, don’t you?”

Frodo smiled.  Anything that made it seem as if the wizard was settling in 
at Bag End was welcome.  “Yes, and of course you can put her there.”

“Oh, the lovely mare that Elrond has been letting me use for years 
decided she was getting too old for such long trips.  We talked it over and 
agreed that I would only ride her over short distances around Rivendell—
though I must say, when I’m there, I like to get away from horseback 
riding for a while.”

Frodo looked at him skeptically.  “Can you really talk to horses—or, that 
is, can you understand them when they talk back?”

Gandalf gave a little snort.  “I’d be a poor wizard if I couldn’t.”

Frodo stared at him.  Ordinarily Gandalf behaved so little like a magical 
being that it rather took him aback when the wizard referred to his special 
powers so offhandedly.

Gandalf resumed, “Elrond loaned me another horse, a spirited young 
stallion who thought himself ready for any amount of long journeying.  
Rather boasted about it, I must say.  I rode him long and hard these past 
few days, but now he will get a chance at a rest.”

He pulled out his pipe, and Frodo handed him the pipeweed jar.  “It’s 
wonderful to be able to smoke again.  I ran out of pipeweed months ago, 
and I was only able to replenish my supply in Bree.  But this stuff is much 
better, from the smell of it.”

Frodo watched him carefully fill the pipe.  “You can have bushel baskets 
of it if you’ll only stay with me for a while.”  He knew he should not nag 
Gandalf about his long absences, but he could not help asking, “Why do 
YOU have to do all this hard and dangerous work?  Aren’t there other 
people, powerful people, who could take over SOMETIMES?  I know 
Bilbo told me that you helped defeat the Necromancer, and your work is 
very important, but do you ALWAYS have to do it?  I have missed you SO 
much!”

Gandalf sighed.  “It’s your own fault, Frodo, for falling in love with a 
wizard.  Very foolish of you.  With all these beautiful hobbit lads and 
lasses close to home, you pick a wandering greybeard who neglects you 
shamefully.  Absolutely shamefully.”  He pulled Frodo close and kissed 
him lightly about the mouth and cheeks again.

Frodo twisted away.  “Don’t try to distract me—unless you’re prepared to 
follow up on those kisses with something more exciting.  I thought not.  
Well, all right, it’s partly my fault, I’ll grant you.  Guilty as charged, I did fall 
in love with a wizard, knowing what it meant.  At least the last time you 
stayed away for nine years, you had the excuse that you were vainly 
fighting your overwhelming, highly sensible attraction to me—don’t tickle 
me!  I refuse to be distracted from my question:  Why doesn’t someone 
else do some of this wandering and researching and . . . and whatever 
else it is that you do.  You once said there were other wizards—just what 
do THEY do in all this?”

“All right, I’ll give you a straightforward answer—although I cannot tell you 
everything.  There ARE other people working along with me—others 
among the Wise.  And they do what they can, very important things.  But 
mostly they are defending their own domains, and even that is getting 
harder and harder.  Someone has to hold them together to our plans, 
which is a large part of what I do.  And yes, there are other wizards, 
though I am not sure where they all are.  One, my cousin Radagast, has, 
I’m afraid, retired to a rather solitary life in Mirkwood, and although he 
contributes some help now and then, he is not as active as I had hoped.  
Sometimes I envy him that simple existence.  Of course, it would take a 
hobbit to make it really pleasant, and he, poor fellow, doesn’t have one.”  
He ruffled Frodo’s hair.  “And there is another wizard who works with us 
against the Necromancer, and he did play an important part in helping to 
chase him out of his stronghold 76 years ago.  I am not without help, my 
dear Frodo, but things are getting much worse, I fear, and we shall need 
all our combined power and more.”  He again leaned his head back 
against the chair and closed his eyes.

Frodo had begun during this speech to wonder whether he should have 
brought up the subject.  He still did not really understand how all these 
people fit together, and yet it was clearer than ever that Gandalf’s 
departures meant more than loneliness for them both.  The situation in 
the outside world sounded very dangerous.  “Is . . . is there going to be 
another war, like the Battle of Five Armies?”  That was the only war he 
knew much about, since it had been one of Bilbo’s favorite tales.

“Alas, almost certainly there is, and much worse.  Indeed, there are 
already skirmishes beginning far south of here.   The Dark Lord, or the 
Necromancer, as you have known him, has secretly been rebuilding his 
domain and his military might.  Our efforts long ago, in which Bilbo played 
a small but important part, unfortunately did not rid the world of our great 
Enemy.  And now . . .”  He was silent for a moment, looking with a worried 
expression into the fire, then at Frodo.  “ . . . now I have discovered things 
that make me realize I cannot hide you here and expect that you will 
remain isolated and safe from the terrible events that I fear will unfold.”  
He paused again, pulling Frodo to himself and hugging the hobbit.

“Why, Gandalf, what have you discovered?”

“It may sound hard to believe, Frodo, but the Ring that Bilbo found long 
ago and gave to you  is linked to these terrible events going on far away.  
It is not just some little magical trinket that helps its owner disappear and 
avoid relatives or play pranks on friends.  Unless I am greatly mistaken, it 
is vastly powerful and has been central in many of the great events in the 
history of Middle-earth.”

“I don’t understand.”

“No.  As I said, it will take a lot of explaining.  In fact, I think we should put 
that off until tomorrow.  Such matters are best left until daylight.  The 
shadows are too deep now, even in your little sitting room.  Besides, I am 
simply too tired to give you a coherent account of such complex matters.”

Reluctantly Frodo climbed off his lap, going to prepare a bath for Gandalf 
and then to put 
the wizard to bed.


Gandalf was having an exquisite dream.  He was sitting in a large, well-
furnished room, something like the one he had in Rivendell.  A beautiful 
Elf had come wordlessly to him, knelt before him, and pulled out his 
member, licking and caressing it until he was moaning and writhing in 
delight.  As he drifted awake, he realized that he was in his room at Bag 
End—but the wonderful glow of pleasure in his nether regions was not 
fading along with the dream.  Quite the contrary, it was increasing, and he 
lay for a moment reveling in the sensation of having a warm, delicate 
tongue sliding insistently over his throbbing length.  Being careful not to 
move any part of his body below his waist, the wizard raised his head and 
shoulders and saw a hobbit-sized bump under the covers, moving slightly 
as the tongue flicked here and there.  He grinned and flung aside the 
covers to find Frodo diligently stroking and licking his very upright 
member.

Despite his ragged breathing, Gandalf gasped out, “Aren’t you 
smothered?”

Frodo continued moving his hands along the shaft as he grinned at the 
wizard.  “Not yet!  I haven’t been down here long, and I’ve got the light 
spring blankets on the bed.  And I had a strong feeling that you would 
wake up very soon.  You had a morning erection, and when I woke up 
and saw it pushing up the covers like a tent-pole—well, I couldn’t pass 
THAT up!  So I crept under to get reacquainted with a very dear old 
friend.  He seems quite happy about my visit.”  His blue eyes sparkled as 
he applied tongue and lips to the side of the cock’s tip, kissing it wetly.

“He is indeed,” Gandalf sighed happily, lying back and closing his eyes.

“Oh, no, my dear wizard!  It’s YOUR turn to look at ME,” Frodo 
commanded, pausing only briefly in his licking and kissing and not at all in 
his stroking.

“Mmmm, gladly,” Gandalf murmured, dragging Frodo’s pillow over onto 
his own and propping his head against it to gaze at the hobbit pleasuring 
him so happily.  “Frodo, you do have the most wicked little grin.  I guess 
you ARE glad to see me back.” 

Frodo chuckled, sending little puffs of air over the wet shaft and making 
Gandalf flinch at the teasing sensation this created.  At last he could not 
keep his eyes open any longer, and he grimaced.  Frodo saw this and 
stroked the shaft faster and harder, and the wizard sucked in his breath 
sharply as the hobbit licked his balls.  “Frodo . . . I’m almost . . .” he 
rasped, and Frodo moved to clasp his lips over the tip.  Hot, thick liquid 
instantly filled his mouth, and he eagerly gulped it down, continuing to 
pump and squeeze with his hands.

As Gandalf’s climax receded, he lay back against the sheet and smiled 
lazily at Frodo as the hobbit moved up to sit beside him.  Frodo licked his 
lips with exaggerated delight and murmured, “I had completely forgotten 
what you taste like my dear wizard.  But it’s hardly surprising.  It’s been 
NINE YEARS, after all!”  He looked accusingly at Gandalf, who resolutely 
closed his eyes and ignored him.  Frodo said more softly, “Well, now I 
remember, but you can give me more reminders in the days to come—
many days, I hope. In the meantime, would you like breakfast in bed?”

Gandalf yawned.  “Yes, that sounds lovely, but . . . maybe . . .  maybe I’ll 
just go back to sleep for a while.”  Frodo smiled at this familiar habit—
though Gandalf seldom slept after sex early in the morning.

Frodo kissed the tip of his nose.  Gandalf smiled drowsily at him, then 
nestled into the pillows.  “Yes, do have a sleep, and I’ll bring breakfast in 
to you.”  There was no response.  “Well, I did wake him up early,” Frodo 
thought cheerfully, “why shouldn’t he sleep a bit longer?  He’ll need all his 
energy later on—if I have anything to say about it!  In the meantime, 
breakfast.”  He pulled his clothes on loosely and made his way to the 
kitchen.

He fixed some breakfast for himself and took his time eating it, thinking of 
all the lovely things he and the wizard could do during the unusually fine 
spring days the Shire was experiencing.  Hearing a noise outside, he 
went to open the round green door wide and waved as he saw Sam 
getting out his tools to work in the garden.  Then he returned to the 
kitchen and put together a tray for the wizard.  As he entered the guest 
room, Gandalf was just yawning and waking up again.

“Eggs again, I’m afraid.  It’s a good thing you like them.  I’ll have to lay in 
more supplies and do some cooking today.”

“I never object to eggs.  Here, put the tray on my lap and sit beside me.”

As Gandalf ate, Frodo leaned against him, occasionally taking a bit of 
food and holding it up to the wizard’s mouth.  This held up the meal 
somewhat, but both found it very agreeable.

Frodo waggled his eyebrows at Gandalf.  “Now, we’re even, and we can 
go about this in a more leisurely fashion.”  From Gandalf’s expression, the 
hobbit knew that he did not have to explain what “this” was.  “I hope you 
haven’t forgotten your very convenient little preparatory spell by having 
been gone so long.”

Gandalf chuckled.  “That is one spell I shall never forget!  Though, really, 
Frodo, I’m hardly such an incompetent wizard that I wouldn’t have a few 
others that would probably work just as well.”

Frodo sat silently for a moment, then said, “Well, despite how long you’ve 
had to be away, we’ve given each other so much joy in this bed—and 
elsewhere.  Looking back, I still can’t believe I got up the nerve to kiss 
you that day.”

Gandalf smiled down at him.  “Yes, I was anything but encouraging, 
wasn’t I?  But how could I turn down a hobbit birthday present—especially 
from such a deliciously pretty hobbit?”

“Luckily, you couldn’t, and here we are.”
  
The wizard finished his meal, got up, and stretched.  “This has been a 
lovely way to end such a long separation, my dearest hobbit.  BUT . . . it 
is time to face reality.  Could you light a fire in the sitting room?  I’ll join 
you there in a few minutes.”

Frodo had turned to leave, but he paused.  “Do you think we need a fire?  
It’s shaping up to be a warm day, for April at least.  Sam is already at 
work in his shirtsleeves.”

Gandalf looked at him with a surprisingly somber expression.  “Yes, I’m 
afraid we do need a fire, Frodo.”  He sighed.  “I’ll be with you shortly.”
_________________________________________________________________
_____

That morning Gandalf made the final test by tossing the Ring into Frodo’s 
little fireplace.  Once the hobbit had seen the fiery writing that appeared 
on it, Gandalf told him about the Ring, its history, and the dangers that 
they faced.  Terrified as he was by all these revelations, Frodo realized 
that at least he now better understood the wizard’s comings and goings 
over the years.  His main consolation was that Gandalf had promised to 
help him bear his Burden.  Surely that meant that at last he would be able 
to travel with the wizard and to see places outside the Shire—even 
Rivendell and the Elves.  If he had Gandalf with him, he thought, he could 
face up to almost any danger.

They were largely silent over lunch as Frodo struggled to absorb all that 
he had been told.  Afterward, hoping to banish their worries for while, they 
retired to Gandalf’s room.  They made love, beginning passionately and 
quickly, and then prolonging their final build in a more leisurely fashion.  
Afterwards, Gandalf drifted off to sleep.  Rather than the usual few 
minutes of post-coital slumber, however, he napped for over an hour.  
Frodo realized that his lover was still tired from the prolonged travel of the 
previous day and patiently waited, resting against his side and stroking 
his beard occasionally.

At last the wizard opened his eyes and smiled at seeing Frodo looking up 
at him.  He pulled the hobbit to him and kissed him, delving his tongue 
slowly and thoroughly into his mouth.  Then he nibbled at Frodo’s ear and 
whispered, “I want to taste you, Frodo.  I want you to come in my mouth.”

Frodo felt a little shiver pass through him and looked at Gandalf with a 
provocative little grin.  “I don’t think I’m quite ready yet, but if you want me 
to come in your mouth, my darling wizard—then MAKE me ready,” he 
challenged.

Gandalf grinned in return and considered for a moment.  “I’ve said on a 
number of occasions that I wanted to kiss you absolutely all over your 
body.  I never got around to it, but it still sounds like a wonderful idea.  I 
would wager a considerable sum that by the time I was finished, you 
would be BEGGING me to take you into my mouth.”

Frodo said teasingly, “I’d definitely like to see THAT.  Can you really 
reduce me to such desperation?”

“It’s the sort of challenge I’d like to try and meet, at any rate.”

“It might take a long time.  Don’t forget what you did for me last night, 
added on to what just happened.”

“Hardly.  But we HAVE a long time, my dearest hobbit.  What better way 
to spend the afternoon than in thoroughly reacquainting myself with your 
beautiful body by tasting every bit of it?  Besides, you’re so small, it won’t 
take as long as it ordinarily would.”

“Ordinarily!  Have you kissed someone ALL over before?”

“Frodo!” Gandalf said reproachfully.  “You shouldn’t ask such questions.  
Aren’t you afraid you won’t like the answer?”

Frodo pouted—quite delightfully, Gandalf thought.   “Maybe.  But HAVE 
you?”

“Well . . . let us just say, if I did wager that that would be a good way of 
making you beg for release . . . I would have good reason to think I would 
win.  Now, none of that!  You ASKED!  Twice!”

Gandalf started with Frodo’s head, moving his lips over the curly hair and 
pressing lightly.  His attentions to the hobbit’s face, neck, and ears made 
him squirm slowly in delight.  As Gandalf moved slowly down Frodo’s 
body, he reached the relaxed, smooth pink nipples.

“Of course, there are some parts of your body I want to kiss more than 
others,” he murmured, licking and sucking at them gently as they 
hardened.  As his mouth lingered, Frodo closed his eyes and hummed 
with a faint sense of reviving arousal.  “Why do you like playing with my 
nipples so much?”

Gandalf paused and looked back and forth between them thoughtfully.  “I 
have no idea.  Let me see if I can figure it out.”  Slowly and with thoughtful 
expression he flicked the tip of his tongue across each tiny peak in turn, 
then paused and looked at them with a puzzled expression.  “No, still no 
clue.”  Frodo laughed as the wizard sucked and kissed them a bit longer, 
then looked into the hobbit’s face.  “It’s quite a mystery.”

Slowly his lips explored Frodo’s chest and stomach, teasing gently and 
moving on, pausing at spots that he knew were especially sensitive.

Frodo lay basking in pleasure and the slow build of arousal.  “I have 
missed this so much over the years.”

Gandalf paused and looked briefly up at Frodo.  “How did you occupy 
yourself all that time, if you don’t mind telling me?”  He lowered his lips to 
the hobbit’s body once more as Frodo began to speak.

“Well, for a start, I tried not to sit at home by myself, pining for you.  I 
could not have borne THAT for long.  I traveled in the Shire, visiting 
relatives I had not seen in a long time—the relatives I like, of course, and 
there are really quite a few of those.  And I went to the Green Dragon 
many an evening, to hear silly gossip passed round and chewed over.  It 
was quite pleasant, really, though occasionally I found myself suddenly 
picturing you coming in the door, all travel-stained and suddenly 
overjoyed to find me unexpectedly sitting there.  You’d want me so badly 
that you’d carry me off to one of the private dining rooms and take me 
passionately.  Sometimes it was all so vivid that I actually felt dizzy.  Once 
the Gaffer accused me of being drunk.  But I wasn’t—except with the 
thought of you.”

Gandalf paused again in his kissing, but this time he did not speak or 
glance at Frodo’s face before resuming.

“Sometimes one of my friends or cousins would come over and sit by me 
in the corner and try to, get something started, as we used to.  I think they 
suspected about you and me, after I rather suddenly dropped out of 
circulation as soon as you arrived for Bilbo’s party, and of course they 
talked behind our backs after his disappearance.  But then when you 
were gone so long, I guess they thought that was over.  I suppose I was a 
little tempted, since it’s obviously hard to get along without that sort of 
thing.  But I knew if I gave in, I’d just be thinking of you the whole time 
and be more miserable than ever, not to mention feeling guilty.  So I just 
took care of it myself, once I got home and in bed.   Mmmmmm . . . that 
feels wonderful.  Well, I won’t have to do that for a while, anyway.”

The wonderful sensation arose from Gandalf’s lips and tongue exploring 
the insides of Frodo’s thighs, then working a bit more quickly down one 
leg.
 
”Are you even going to kiss my feet, Gandalf?”

“Well, they appear to be reasonably clean, and if I kissed your curly head, 
I can certainly cope with your furry little toes.”  He proved it by nibbling at 
each of them with his lips.   Then he began to kiss up the other leg, lightly 
stroking the inner thighs and the backs of Frodo’s knees with his fingers.  
Glancing upward he saw that Frodo’s penis, which had been lying against 
his thigh, was now beginning to rise slightly, and he grinned with a hint of 
triumph.  The hobbit bit his lower lip in anticipation and watched as the 
wizard slowly moved over him.  

Gandalf skirted around the half-hard cock as he reached Frodo’s hips, 
and then he gently turned the hobbit onto his stomach.  His mouth moved 
slowly over the firm buttocks, now with the lips barely brushing the skin, 
now biting gently.  Frodo felt his erection press down into the mattress 
and he dug his fingers into the sheet.  Gandalf parted his buttocks slightly 
and inched his tongue down the cleft until it reached the tiny opening and 
lingered, flicking teasingly against the puckered hole.  Frodo jerked at 
first, then found himself struggling to stay still, panting rapidly and 
shallowly as the unfamiliar, exquisite sensation made his whole body 
quiver.  After a short time his erection became almost painful.

“Please, Gandalf, now!  Take me in your mouth!  I can’t wait!” he said in a 
strangled voice.

He heard a soft chuckle, and the wizard said, “But I haven’t finished here.  
Don’t you want me to kiss all over your back as well?”

“Later!  Please, PLEASE, I’m completely ready for you!”

Gandalf rolled him over onto his back again.  “I should have made that 
wager.  Well, I’ll continue that another time, then.  Ah, yes, here’s one 
important part I neglected on the first pass.”

He kissed the tip of Frodo’s erection, then circled the shaft with a slightly 
open mouth, wetly kissing downward until he reached the balls and gave 
them the same treatment.  By now Frodo was twisting his hips, trying 
vainly to maneuver the head closer to the wizard’s lips.  “Gandalf, suck 
me, please!  You wanted me to come in your mouth!  Let me!”

The wizard finally raised his head and descended onto Frodo’s member, 
taking it all inside in one swift movement that made Frodo grimace and 
groan loudly.  Gandalf held the hobbit’s hips firmly to prevent his 
involuntarily thrusting into his throat, and he moved slowly up and down 
the shaft.  Withdrawing his mouth for a moment, he moistened his long 
middle finger and slipped it slowly inside Frodo.  Frodo gurgled as 
Gandalf resumed sucking, his lips and tongue moving quickly and 
insistently as he stroked the most sensitive spot inside the hobbit.  He 
pressed Frodo’s belly down with his free hand as the hobbit began to 
thrash and whimper, at last moaning repeatedly as his cock sent warm 
jets into Gandalf’s throat.  Gradually his spasms drew further apart and 
finally vanished as the wizard ran his tongue up the sensitive ridge of his 
shaft.

Frodo lay, blissfully drained, as Gandalf slid up alongside him and laid his 
neck on the hobbit’s outstretched arm.  Frodo opened his eyes and 
stroked the wizard’s cheek.  “Well!  THAT certainly makes up for a lot!”

Gandalf asked hopefully, “For a few months of my absence, perhaps?” 

Frodo pretended to consider this seriously, then nodded with a thoughtful 
little frown.  “Perhaps.”

“Then I might hope to work off my debt to you eventually?”

Frodo just grinned.

Gandalf lay happily watching the afterglow registered on the face so close 
to his own.  After a contented silence, Frodo asked,   “Did you ever figu