Title: It Must Have Been The Ring Author (including email): Solarfall (sb101980@wolmail.nl) Pairing(s): Frodo/Sam Rating: R/NC-17 Summary: It's September 21, 1421. Sam and Frodo are camping in the Green Hills. Sam accompanies Frodo on what will be his last journey. Sam thinks Frodo's going to Rivendell, but as we all know, he's heading for the Grey Havens. And he has a terrible confession to make! Disclaimer: the usual blablabla Authors Note (if needed/desired): Inspired by Tristania's "Pale Enchantress of the Night" and "December Elegy", both from their debut album "Widow's Weed". Oh - Feedback is *craved*! "May thou carry me to the Sea Like autumn leaves… heaven wither Savage is the winter prevailing within I fell for thee … sorrow entreating me … Makes me leave for Heaven…" A beautiful autumn night, indeed, it was. As Sam was busy gathering enough wood for the fire, Frodo sat on his blanket silently gazing at the twinkling stars. He could hear the ponies snorting in the distance, among other soft sounds from the surrounding nature. The rushing of falling autumn leaves, among it an owl's call. Frodo swallowed, realising that as this would be the last evening he would be spending with Sam, it would really be now or never. Should he burden Sam with what had been bothering him for such a long time in the first place? If yes, this would be the appropriate evening. But then again. What he had to confess would in any way be most disturbing for Sam, but as it had been paining him more ever since It had been disposed off … there was no way back anymore. And furthermore, did not Sam have a right to know why he would be leaving the Shire? In any case, after tomorrow, Sam would never have to face him and his folly anymore… It pained him so much – just looking at Sam stooping and inspecting the logs. His round, soft form, his golden curls glistening in the moonlight, his mumbling, "there, this one will do…". Frodo felt his eyes stinging. He tried to hid his face in his arms, sitting up curled, as he saw Sam approaching. "I think I've collected enough logs to keep the fire burning for a while now, Mr. Frodo…" Frodo could feel the earth trembling as Sam dropped them to the ground with a large thud. Such a weight… but Sam would carry any weight with ease, as he himself had experienced. "Shall I bring you some wine now, master? I mean, as it is such a beautiful evening, we could well choose to enjoy it a little bit further, as I've taken some good bottles of Old Wynyard with me and such…" No answer came. "Mr. Frodo?" Sam came up to him and touched his shoulder. "… are you alright?" Frodo looked up instantly, startled. "Please do so, Sam. I think a draught of wine would be most welcome now". He sighed, moving his head away to avoid eye contact. Sam rummaged through his packing for a bottle and the corkscrew with a wry smile, obviously thinking "Mr. Frodo's having one of his reoccurring troubled periods again". Maybe the wine would make it easier for him to talk this time – all the other moments that Sam caught him acting in this manner, there had never been a chance to have a proper talk, with Rosie and Elanor being around. A short "plop" followed, and a moment later, Sam held before him the wine, which Frodo accepted as if he were parched – his hand shortly covering Sam's. Indeed, he was parched, but not at all solely for the wine. "Now, what's been troubling you so much, master. You have tried to hide it from me for such a long time now, but you cannot fool your Sam, as you should've know by now. Please, talk to me, sir?" Sam dropped to his knees, putting his arm around Frodo's shoulders, and sat himself down next to him, very close. "I am wounded. Wounded, it will never really heal…" Frodo shuddered and shook his head. "If only I could…" He emptied his glass at a disturbing rate and reached out for the bottle. Sam looked away, putting another log on the fire. There was nothing to it now – he'd have to act. "You can tell me anything, Mr. Frodo. There's no way you could upset your Sam, please, trust me now…" Sam's arms returned around Frodo's shoulders. "It must have been the Ring, it must be. Oh, how this evil could…" Frodo didn't continue, but instead, hid his face again, feeling tears well in his eyes. "You still think of that dratted thing, don't you Mr. Frodo. How it consumes you still, I daresay! But it's gone now, you shouldn't no longer be under its spell and all… are you Mr. Frodo?" Sam softy took hold of his chin, turning his face towards him. Frodo's eyes flooded with tears now. "I still am. Oh how can I possibly tell what it has done to me. It's so cruel. It can't be. It's so unnatural" "What is, Mr. Frodo?" Sam cupped his face, locking his eyes to Frodo's sapphire ones, not allowing him to move away anymore. And there at last came the answer, in between short sobs and hiccups. "I love you Sam. I can't help it, I've been fighting it al along since you've rescued me from the Orcs, since we were saved from the Mountain, since we've returned to the Shire… I couldn't find solace anywhere… no rest has ever come to me anymore… I feel… so… wretched…" Sam sat silent for a while, gently rubbing Frodo's back. He refilled their glasses, his mind seeking for an answer. "Mr. Frodo… that's nothing to be so upset about… I love you, too; you know that, don't you?" "You don't understand me, Sam. I love you not only in that way, but… also… and more… in the way you love Rosie…" Sam closed his eyes and shook his head in disbelief. Did he hear that correctly? Frodo, his dear Mr. Frodo… loved him in *that* way… "And you think it's the Ring that caused all that, master dear… Frodo?" There was nothing to it. Sam, recognizing the condition Frodo was in as one that needed his immediate consolation, gently grabbed his sobbing master under his armpits and slowly, easily, lifted him in his lap. Both Sam's arms were around his slender body, gently cradling him, Sam now putting al his efforts in comforting him by softly rocking him. "Everything is alright, Mr. Frodo". Frodo reacted by clutching him even more intensely than he had been doing before, his sobs intensifying. Now what's to be done… Both remained silent for a while, staring at the stars, not knowing what to say next. Sam at last numbly reached for his pack again to lay hands on the next bottle. A short time later – glasses again had been refilled, and had in silence been emptied at the same rate. Sam lifted Frodo from his lap, as he had to take his attention to the fire, which was now only smoldering, and laid him down on the blanket. "It's gonna be a cold night, Mr. Frodo… if I don't take care of it now, it will go out... Mr. Frodo? Frodo?" Suddenly Frodo had crawled up on his now unsure legs and made his way to the shrubs that marked the woodland border, partly stumbling in his haste. Sam dashed after him, catching up with him just in time before he fell onto his knees, his head bowed to the ground. Sam put his arm about him to steady him from behind and wiped his hair from his sweaty brow as he couldn't hold back anymore and vigorously emptied his stomach on the grass below. Sam brought out a small towel and started to wipe Frodo's face carefully, tear-filled eyes looking up to him from his now very pale face. "Oh me dear… you've been having much too much of that wine! And I didn't notice. I must get you wrapped in those blankets as soon as possible. This won't do. Come now, let me help you". "Sam… I'm so sorry, I make such a mess of everything…" "Don't worry about it, Mr. Frodo. I'll get you out of your clothes and have you tucked in as soon as possible, so I can clean up your shirt and all. You don't want dear old Mr. Bilbo seeing you like this tomorrow morning!" Easily Sam lifted Frodo's still slight weight in his arms and carried him back to their camping place. He took off his jacket and shirt, which obviously needed some cleaning, and laid him gently down on the blankets, covering him warmly. And, as to Sam had become usage, he folded his cloak to serve his master as a pillow. "There now, master, you should have a good sleep now". Frodo nodded, and at once fell into a deep sleep. ********************************************************************** Sam took Frodo's clothes in order to try to remove the stains. While softly rubbing the fine fabrics with a wet towel, he looked aside at Frodo's face, lightened by the soft yellow flame light. He at least seemed in rest now, the long dark curls laying spread out on the cloak-pillow, framing his pale face. His long dark eyelashes trembled a bit, casting shadows beneath his eyes. Sometimes he moaned softly, parting his soft pink lips. Sam had to admit: as always, it was impossible for him to take his eyes off him for longer periods than the wink of an eye. "Such a mess of everything..." So, it turned out, Rosie had been right once again. Nothing could ever be kept hidden from her keen eyes. She had known, and had warned him, but he just couldn't believe… his Mr. Frodo had loved him, and he loved him still. Sam shook his head. Was this the real burden of the Ring? He finished his cleaning work, emptied his glass, and tossed another log on the fire, before laying himself next to Frodo's side under the blanket very silently. He had another look at him, softly stroke his hair and then turned around to go to sleep, if that was by any means possible. ********************************************************************** Frodo woke in the dead of night, feeling slightly nauseous. What had happened? Feeling Sam's arm curled around him quickly brought back his memory. "Oh Sam… what have I done to you?", he whispered softly to the stars, laying on his back, assuming Sam to be deeply buried in sleep. To his dismay, Sam stirred, sat up, and looked at him. "I'm sorry, master. Can't sleep. I'm still thinking `bout what you said, sir." "I've said terrible things, Sam lad. Please forgive me!" His memory had now fully come back, and he remembered his confession with aversion. "There ain't nothing terrible about what you said to me, Mr. Frodo." "Then why are you still laying awake and thinking about what I've said?" "You said, it… it must have come from the Ring, that dratted thing." "Wherever it comes from, it is unnatural, and I don't want it to…" "If you think so… then may I remember you that I, too, bore It, Mr. Frodo? It was only a short time, and a terrible burden indeed it was, but don't you think that I could have been affected by it in the same way as you think you've been, if you follow my meaning, sir?" "What… do you mean… Sam?" Frodo shyly responded, turning his head, looking up at Sam with sheer disbelief. "If the Ring has made *you* feel unnatural… then maybe It has made *me* feel unnatural as well, if you follow me?" "No Sam… this can't be… you're telling me… you've had the same sort of feelings … for me?" "I daresay so, Mr. Frodo. I told you, I love you! And you knew it. You know, with Rosie, didn't I tell you before that I was torn in two? I still am, Mr. Frodo. I love you both… so much… but I think…" Sam now took Frodo's hand, seeking words to continue. "Tis embarrassing, indeed, sir. You know, I've never hoped… dared to let you know in any way. Would've been most out of position, me being your servant and all…" "No more out of position than what I've been doing. I should've been your master… but I'm …" "I would gladly think of us as friends in the first place, Mr. Frodo… are we not?" "I hope you can still look upon me as just that and no more. It's more than I deserve from you, Sam" "Stop saying that. You deserve just everything that's good for a hobbit. And love is definitely one of them good things, to my reckoning, anyway" "No Sam. You've got Rosie, and Elanor, to love and take care of. You can't dishonor them because of me" "I know that well enough, Mr. Frodo. And I don't at all mean to dishonor them. But you know, Rosie and me had some talk before we set out to see you on your way, and she says to me … Sam dear, you should look after Mr. Frodo very well during this journey. And I says, well, I always do! And then she says, Of course, you love him! But then she said, the bright lass sure doesn't keep her eyes in her pockets, that this time may be something different, because…" Sam didn't continue and looked away from Frodo. Frodo touched his cheek, trying to encourage. "Well, what did she say then?" "… She said that she was thinking you … that you'd be suffering of …a broken heart, or somethin'. And I says, well, I've heard no such thing from him or anything! And then Rosie said: Well of course you didn't hear anything from him, Sam, you ninnyhammer. It is *you* that has broken his heart! He loves you! And he doesn't dare to tell you, because he's your master... I thought she was quite over her water at first, I mean, suggesting you and me, two lads in love…. But then, I started thinking… well, you know my head isn't the best part of me… so then I realized that now we'd be going off together again, although only for a fortnight, there could be some situations coming that…" "No Sam. Don't you worry. I could want nothing more from you than what you've already given to me." "Is that truly so, Mr. Frodo?" "I couldn't bear you to do anything that may hurt Rose, Sam" "I wasn't finished yet, sir. Rosie now said to me, that she wouldn't be exactly thrilled if anything … well, eh… happened, but as she knew I'd be going along with you, she wouldn't mind less as long as I would return to her, poor lass. And she knows, I will." Silence once again returned. Frodo, shivering, drew up the blankets again, looking at Sam. He closed his eyes, starting to feel totally miserable again. He felt Sam's arms closing about him and his shuddering made him look up in alarm. "Oh Sam! What's happening to us? I can't… I'm so…" Tears were already leaking from his eyes, as he realized this would truly be their last night together. Sam still didn't know. Frodo leaned in to him, grabbed his head and kissed him. Hard, and on his mouth. Sam, no less startled, reached back and took him in his arms. "Oh me dear… Mr. Frodo …you… you're so… No elven-lass could be more beautiful than you are! This can't be happening, and still it is, if you follow me." "You're so beautiful yourself, Sam, dear. I love you so much, Sam…I can't deny it any longer." Neither needed any more words to express themselves further. Frodo was now in Sam's arms, pulling him close, and all that had been denied for so long now came to bloom. Sam adoringly started to bestow Frodo's small bare chest with slow kisses, Frodo's fingers caught up in his sandy curls. "Sam… can you take off your shirt, too? I'd like to feel your warmth… close to me" Frodo said, between his tears now fully leaking from his sapphire eyes, begging Sam to continue whilst feeling guilty all the same. Sam softly wiped away the tears from his cheeks with his thumbs. "Please, don't cry, Mr. Frodo". Sam cast off his shirt and for a moment looked down on Frodo. Frodo's eyes held him, encouraging, wanting, his lips slightly parted, begging. Frodo had finally been persuaded to let go his all reluctance, willing to subject himself to this new experience, in spite of all guilt and hesitation. And before Sam fully realized what was happening, Frodo had pulled him down, their bared chests pressed together. Sam's weight pressed on him fully, his hands tucked into Frodo's curls, Frodo's fingers trailing his back so intensively, Sam was clearly aware of one of them being missing. Their mouths met at last in a wet, hungry kiss. Sam reached back to draw up the blanket. Turning back, he could no more stop his hands roaming all over Frodo's bare, pale chest, fumbling with his nipples, caressing his soft belly and thereafter, inevitably, moving lower. Accidentally he touched Frodo's arousal through the soft fabric of his breeches, which elicited a gasp from Frodo. Frodo firmly caught Sam's reluctant hand and returned it, shyly but sure. Their eyes met once again, insecure but fully aware. "Please, Sam… make love to me!" After a short hesitation, Sam's thick gardener's fingers made adequate work of Frodo's buttons. He lifted Frodo gently and subsequently bared him. "You, too, Sam…", Frodo whispered, his naked body now so obviously aching for Sams's touch, his legs parted to welcome him there. Sam, struck by Frodo's pale slender beauty, clumsily removed his own remaining clothes. He softly lowered himself back onto Frodo, cradling his head in his arms. "Are you comfortable, Mr. Frodo? Are you sure I'm not crushing you… love?" In reply, Frodo curled his arms around Sam's neck and his legs around his waist, pulling him even tighter towards him, insecurely but demandingly encouraging him to move his body against his own. Their lips once again met, parted, their tongues touched playfully and tasted each other, only interrupted by their moans and gasps. Their bodies now finally fully entwined in their rhythmic movements, they didn't last long. Frodo, inexperienced as he was, came immediately, slow, deep and hard, in long enduring waves, crying out Sam's name. Sam followed only seconds later, moaning, his body trembling over Frodo's, muttering endearments in his master's ear. For along period they remained silent, Sam's head on Frodo's chest, eyes closed, their hands clutched in each other's curls, dizzy with the aftermaths of their climax. Sam first recovered, lifting his head, aware of the hot wet stickiness between them. "Frodo, love, have I taken care of you… properly?" he asked softly, rousing Frodo to recover back to full consciousness. "Yes, you have, Sam, dear Sam". He smiled and sighed, his eyes blinking, moving away to meet the velvet darkness of the sky, catching with the stars. "Don't you go off wandering into your dark thoughts again, dear Frodo… It's all alright, as I said before. It's gone for ever, we needn't worry anymore, if you follow me". Sam lifted his weight from Frodo and reached out for a towel in his pack. "Well, seems this is the second time I need to clean you up tonight, Mr. Frodo. Or, I may well say, clean up both of us, this time!", he said cheerfully, carefully wiping their bodies clean and happy to see Frodo faintly smiling at him in response to his remark, thank Elbereth. "I'll just give the flames another poke, and then we'll just curl up in these blankets and have a sleep together, Mr. Frodo. I'd be most grateful, if you'd just lie close to me, in my arms. I do not want you to have to worry about anything anymore tonight, sir, least of all that dratted Thing." Frodo, fighting off his dizziness, shook his head and rubbed his eyes. "I'll try, Sam". Sam returned from the fire and huddled them both in their blankets, their skins exchanging warmth and comfort, Frodo barely able keeping himself from falling to a deep sleep immediately. "Good night, Sam my lad", he whispered before drifting off. "Sleep well, my love", Sam answered, keeping his eyes fixed on the beautiful pale face which now lay cradled in the hollow of his shoulder, enlightened by starlight and flame, at least for now freed from worry and pain - until he finally fell asleep himself. ********************************************************************** "You'll be alright in Rivendell with Mr. Bilbo, sir. I know you'll be". Frodo found himself waking up next to Sam, who was softly stroking his hair. As it seemed, he was already dressed and ready to move on. "Sam… I'm not…going to…". He left his sentence unfinished, not able to confront Sam with his decision – or maybe even himself. "The Elves may well find a cure for you, master. And, speaking for myself, I hope Rose will be capable of curing me…" "She will be, I bet", Frodo mumbled, rising, gathering his clothes. He felt a slight headache troubling him, which in any way wasn't comparable to the ache he had felt in his heart until the past night – and which had now seemingly developed in something he was no longer capable of denying. Together, they gathered their belongings and stuffed them in their packs. The ponies snorted as Sam walked up to them, ready to mount the packs. "Come now, Mr. Frodo, or it'll be clear dark before you'll reach Rivendell" Sam gently grabbed him below his armpits and lifted him onto his feet. Their eyes met, and Sam caught a glimpse of sorrow in his eyes. "Mr. Frodo… I'm sorry if I have embarrassed you in any way. But believe me, I dearly love you and would be very glad to have you back with us in the Shire, once you're cured and all… we'll find a way to handle things, if you take my meaning". ********************************************************************** "Do not weep, for not all tears are an evil…" Finally Sam understood Frodo wasn't going to Rivendell – Frodo would be leaving to pass over the Western Sea, and he wouldn't be able to come with him. That hard truth had nearly choked him, although he did find some comfort in Frodo's saying that he might be able to follow him when his time would come. After all, he had been a Ring-bearer too – the dreadful final consequence of which had become so abundantly obvious the preceding night. "I'm too deeply hurt, Sam". If anything, this parting would hurt him too, and leave him with only the slight outlook to return to Rose, who would – he hoped – at least understand something of what had happened. Luckily, he wouldn't have to ride the long way back alone after the bitter parting. Merry and Pippin would be there to provide at least a bit of consolation, as far as possible. He sullenly looked at Frodo bidding a farewell to both of them with a kiss, knowing that there would only be little more time left that his love would remain within his eyesight. At last, Frodo came up to him, trying to hide his tears from the others. Sam immediately took him in his arms and held him tight as possible. He now too felt tears prick behind his eyelids, and as Frodo leaned in for a final kiss, he found their warm tears mingle on their cheeks. "Sam… thank you so much for everything… I wasn't worthy…" "Frodo, my love… will you wait for me… I mean… for when it's my time to come… to join you?" "I will, dear Sam, I will…" A last hug, a final kiss from Sam on Frodo's forehead followed. "Then go now… they're waiting for you, love" Sam's dark eyes lingered for a short time in his beloved sapphire one's whilst he forced himself to smile. Frodo parted from his arms with a final whisper. "I'll be waiting for you, Sam, my love…" Sam let him go and watched him go aboard Cirdan's Ship. Sam's eyes met Gandalf's for a second – and he understood that Gandalf knew. And Sam followed the Ship until there was nothing more left to see than the gray, clouded horizon. Merry and Pippin stood beside him in that dark night, both holding a hand on his shoulders. They remained silent, but as their eyes met his, he understood that they, too, knew what had happened. - Yes, it must have been the Ring - "…Tearful I fall with thee, at last! Lead me to where thy shadow's cast – and dance in velvet darkness lost…"