Title: In the Swim Author: Timberwolf (timberwolf@frodo.com) Pairing: Frodo/Sam. Summary: After Frodo's return, the two hobbits indulge in a swimming lesson. ;) Rating: R for allusions to certain body parts. Disclaimer: This is written for my own enjoyment and that of other like-minded folk, and not intended to infringe on the copyright held by the estate of the late J.R.R. Tolkien. Date Posted: 18 December 2002. Originally posted (to tolkien_slash) 28 January 2002 Archive: List yes, all others ask Warnings: Spoilers for ROTK. Notes: Second in the 'Pagan Shire' series, directly following "Back to Me.". Dedicated with thanks to Bronnie, for brainstorming this with me in the early days, to Zig for encouraging me to post it, and especially to Cara for having 'just a quick read over it' and returning with a list of suggestions that much improved my original version. IN THE SWIM by Timberwolf "So how would you teach me to swim?" asked Sam, some time later. The two hobbits had built a fire on the foreshore, safely beyond the reach of the high tide, and put together a meal from the provisions in the ponies' bags. That consumed, they were sipping the last of their mugs of tea, which, remembering skills from Frodo's tramping days and Sam's camp cooking, they had brewed in a billy-can over the fire. "How would I teach you to swim? How I was taught," explained Frodo. "Take you out where it's shallow enough for you to stand but deep enough for you to float." "Float?" asked Sam apprehensively. "Yes, float," Frodo returned. "As opposed to sinking like a stone." "I don't think as I'd like that," Sam said. "Oh don't worry," Frodo reassured him. "It's surprisingly easy once you get the knack of it." "It's *until you get the knack of it* that I don't like," was Sam's retort. "Sam," said Frodo quietly. "Do you trust me?" "Of course!" replied Sam, too quickly for there to be any doubt about the matter. "Then believe me. It's easy. And I'll be right there holding you." Sam still looked apprehensive, but nodded slowly. "All right. So we get you used to floating, front and back. Then we work on the strokes -- the actual swimming, I mean," Frodo explained, seeing Sam's puzzled look. "Ah." "Why the sudden interest?" Frodo asked curiously. Sam, to Frodo's surprise, blushed. "Well..." he said. "What -- now?" asked Frodo, catching his drift. "Well, it seems that sort of night, like," said Sam slowly. "You're right," said Frodo musingly, looking up at the stars blazing in the sky, the light of the moon touching the waves with a pale sheen. "It *is* that sort of night," he went on, lifting his face to feel the sea breeze caress it. "And it's long enough after our meal that we won't get cramp." Without further ado, he stood up, shrugged off his waistcoat and began to unfasten his shirt. "Mr -- sorry, *Frodo*," amended Sam at Frodo's reproving look, "what are you doing?" "Getting undressed," said Frodo, as if explaining the obvious. At Sam's lack of answer and astonished look, he explained, "Well you can't swim *in* clothes -- they get full of water and drag you down." "They do, that," agreed Sam, having found this fact out the hard way. "Well, then," said Frodo, working on the buttons of his breeches. "Not a stitch?" Sam, nevertheless, got up and began to strip off. "Not a stitch," Frodo confirmed as he stepped out of his breeches. "It'd just get in your way." "Well, then," said Sam, shrugging off the rest of his clothes in a matter-of-fact manner. "I'm ready." He shivered at a sudden breeze and asked apprehensively, "What do we dry off with?" "We dry off by the fire," said Frodo, leading the way down to the shoreline. "But -- won't it be cold?" asked Sam, following him. "Sam," said Frodo, pausing and looking at him, arms crossed, "are you sure you want to do this?" "Well, yes. Second thoughts don't mean I don't want to, it means..." "I know what you mean," Frodo reassured him. "But it will be warmer in the water. And it'll be warmer if we run in. Come on!" He caught Sam's hand and, breaking into a run, they dashed over the sand and into the shallows, laughing like children, casting off their cares and their years. Until Sam stopped dead and yelped at the sensation of the waves lapping around his knees and the coldness of the water. "It's better if you get in it," said Frodo, kneeling down and splashing water up his torso. "Oh Mr. Frodo, I don't know if I can," a quaking Sam said. "Well, you don't have to if you don't want to, Mayor Samwise," returned Frodo quietly, but with a wry look at the use of his name. That made Sam grin. "No, I want to, I'm just..." "Petrified?" asked Frodo. Then at Sam's shamefaced nod, he said, "So was I. You get over it -- you're doing fine right now." Sam smiled bravely at him, gritted his teeth, knelt down slowly, then immediately shot upright again. "Perhaps if you hold onto me?" Frodo suggested. "I think I'd better, Frodo," said Sam. "I'd prefer it," admitted Frodo. "As would I," confessed Sam. Frodo smiled reassuringly at Sam as he crossed to him, grasping him around his torso. "See? I've got you. Now hold onto my shoulders, and down we go. On three?" "Don't count, Frodo," smiled Sam. "You sound like me when I'm trying to get the childer off to bed." "I wouldn't have thought you'd be fussed about such things." "When it's *midnight* I am," retorted Sam. They shared a laugh, then Frodo, sensing Sam was more relaxed, said, "All right -- now!" They knelt down in the water with a splash, a laugh and a yelp on Sam's part. "All right, Sam?" asked Frodo. "I'm not sure, Frodo," said Sam musingly, clinging onto Frodo's shoulders hard enough to leave finger marks. "It's fine, I've got you. Feel?" he reassured, squeezing Sam. "Now, deep breaths and you'll be fine." "Why *deep breaths*?" asked Sam. "To calm you down," explained Frodo. "Now, breathe deep, and get used to the feel of the water. See? It's not so bad, is it?" "Well, I see what you mean about it being *warmer*," said Sam. "Why is that?" "It's warmer in the water than it is on land," explained Frodo. "I'm not sure why." "Ah," mused Sam. "How's it feeling?" asked Frodo. "Fi -- *Oh*!" he cried out as a strong wave surged around them and pushed him into Frodo. "It's all right," Frodo reassured him, tightening his arms. "I've got you. Feel?" "I do that, Frodo. Thank you." "No thanks necessary," said Frodo, smiling at him. They knelt there for a while, clinging to each other and conversing quietly while the waves lapped around them, rocking them together. Eventually Frodo said, "Well, Sam. Ready to try floating?" "How?" asked Sam apprehensively. "On your back. Don't worry, Sam. I'll be holding you all the time. I won't let you go." "It's not that, Frodo," said Sam. "Well, not *just* that." "What?" asked Frodo gently. "Well, I'm..." Sam's voice trailed off and he gestured towards his midsection. "You're -- oh! *That!*" said Frodo, enlightened.. Smiling at the miserable-looking Samwise, he reassured him, "Don't worry about *that*. It's the cold. See?" He gestured at his torso, where his nipples were peaked. "Oh," said Sam, enlightened. "Well, that's all right, then. So how do we do this?" "Well, you let go of me and lie on your back, like so," said Frodo, coaxing him away from his body to float upon the water. "Ooooooohhh..." "Hold yourself stiff. Not too stiff. Now just float. See? I've got you. No, *don't* try and curl up," said Frodo, shifting his hand to the small of Sam's back and pushing up. "I'm sorry, Frodo," said Sam. "I keep trying to hide it." "Well, ignore it," said Frodo. "That's easy for -- " Sam broke off as a wave pushed him into Frodo's torso and his hip brushed against something. A very warm, firm something. It was Sam's turn to look quizzical and Frodo's to look uncomfortable. "Are you sure that's the cold?" queried Sam sceptically. "It *was*," retorted Frodo, swallowing hard. "Just ignore it," counselled Sam. Frodo gave him a dirty look, then started to laugh. Sam joined in, until the sand, sea and sky rang with the echoes of their shared amusement. "Oh dear me," said Frodo finally, taking his hand from under Sam's neck to wipe away the tears of laughter. "Sam? How's it going there?" "Fine," Sam replied. "A good laugh seems to have taken the starch out." "I meant the *floating*," said Frodo reprovingly, nonetheless laughing in turn. "All right, let's -- " At that moment a big wave smashed onto the shore, pushing Sam into Frodo and knocking Frodo over. In the wild confusion that followed, both managed to retain hold of each other, but they were rolled over and over, dunked several times, and had several frantic moments as they scrabbled to retain hold of each other. When they retained their footing and their equilibrium, they found themselves kneeling in the shallows, clinging to each other, breathing hard. They stared at each other, panting, then suddenly looked away, blushing from scalp to toes. "Perhaps we'd better get out," suggested Frodo quietly. "Well," said Sam, nevertheless clinging to Frodo like a limpet, "I did think that if I *did* get out now, I'd never get back in." "So..." prompted Frodo. "I think I'd better try it again, Mr. -- sorry. Frodo." Frodo smiled. "Well you *are* trying." He glanced down at the pair of them. "And now you'll have to try to let go of me." "Easier said," said Sam, nonetheless slowly unpeeling himself from Frodo's torso. Then, laughing in his turn, "Frodo? You'll have to let go of *me* if I'm going to float." "Sorry," said Frodo, relaxing his arms so Sam could lie flat on the water. "Now, let's try again." ***** "I *said* we should have got out earlier," scolded Frodo, half-guiding, half-carrying a shivering Sam up the beach. "Damn it, Sam. Why didn't you tell me you were so cold? You're lucky you haven't got cramp." "Well, I didn't know," retorted Sam as best he could through his chattering teeth. "I just thought it was getting chill." "You're right," said Frodo, standing Sam by the fire and throwing more wood on, then catching up his cloak to give him a vigorous towelling. "It's my fault. I should have known better." "And I should have had the sense to *say* I'm getting cold," retorted Sam. At Frodo's surprised look, he said, "Now don't be blaming yourself over something that's as much my fault as yours. And dry yourself off. I won't have you catching cold." Frodo blinked at Sam's commanding tone, then smiled slowly. "Yes, sir, Mayor Samwise, sir." "Well, *Mr.* Frodo, if you won't look after yourself," retorted Sam. They looked at each other, then burst out laughing -- until Sam was halted by a series of vigorous sneezes, which set him shivering again. "That won't do," said Frodo, instantly concerned. "We've got to get you warmed *fast*. Come on, into your clothes." "Well," Sam replied absently, preoccupied with his shivering limbs, "I've found skin to skin is the fastest way to warm up." At Frodo's silence, he realised what he'd proposed and swallowed. "I mean..." he floundered. Frodo shrugged. "Well, I'll yield to your superior experience. Skin to skin it will be." As Sam's mouth continued to hang open, he directed, "All right, spread the cloak by the fire and lie on it. I'll lie against you and you wrap the cloak around us. That way, even if it slips, you'll be warm." "Frodo, are you sure?" "Yes, if it'll get you warm. *Us* warm. I'm chilled, too." At that, Sam cast the cloak down and settled himself on it. "Come here, then." Smiling to himself at the success of his stratagem, Frodo settled himself against Sam, then snuggled closer as he felt Sam's arms wrap around him, the cloak enveloping them in warmth. "Comfortable?" he asked. "Fine. You?" Sam asked. "Just fine," Frodo assured him. "Sam? Talk to me. You probably shouldn't go to sleep right away." "About what?" was Sam's sleepy and somewhat disgruntled response. "Anything. Swimming. What do you think of swimming, Sam?" "Well, I'd have to say as it has its moments..." Frodo lay there, enveloped in a growing warmth and sense of well-being as Sam rested against him, his voice growing drowsier as their bodies grew warmer. He didn't even stir as Sam dreamily wrapped a leg around his hip and snuggled closer still. END