Title: Last to Know

Author: Wolfine 

Author’s email: JWolfine@Hotmail.com
        
Pairing: Sam/Frodo

Rating: NC-17

Summary: What do you do when you go to the most extensive library you 
have ever known? Look up all the dirty books, of course.

Disclaimer: All characters owned by Tolkien and New Line, all kinky 
thoughts owned by the author. No monetary value whatsoever.
           
Warning: Sweet hobbit lovin’ dead ahead, Cap’n. Oh, and Virgin!Frodo, 
of all things!

Archive: Library of Moria, or ask.

Notes: Someone once told me, if you write enough happy slash fic, you’ll 
eventually do one that is schmoopy. They also say, if you write LotR fic, 
eventually you’ll write Sam/Frodo. Here then, I kill two birds with one 
stone.

Thanks: Praise goes to AK, who forgives me everything, even schmoop.

Feedback: is better than second breakfast.
 


 * Last to Know*

 Frodo sighed, turning yet another corner in the beautifully built city of 
Rivendell. It was an amazing place, to be sure, but he had tired of walking 
the sculpted halls aimlessly, admiring the handiwork of the magnificent 
creatures who had lent their city to him in which to recover. Sam and 
Frodo’s cousins were roaming the surrounding countryside, hunting for 
berries and mushrooms, but he wasn’t quite up to long hikes yet and had 
to content himself with padding around the hallways and terraces of the 
city. He didn’t know exactly when he had become bored with it all, but he 
felt guilty every time he did. What kind of ingrate was he? Without the 
help of the elves, he would, at this very moment, be riding around the 
countryside, screeching like a mad crow, forever in search of the One Ring 
for his new Master, Sauron. Although, to be fair, he doubted very much he 
would be able to control the great black steeds the Ringwraiths rode. 
Perhaps he would ride a coal black pony? Oh certainly, he thought to 
himself, that would strike fear into the hearts of all who saw him. A 
diminutive Wraith atop a little, sweaty horse!

 This image of himself trotting around the countryside, urging his pony 
along and menacing men from just about eye level caused him to collapse 
into fits of giggles and slide down the elegant wall until his bum reached 
the floor. There he snorted and sniffed until the fit left him, realizing it had 
been a while since he had laughed at himself. He ended with a chuckle and 
lazily swung his head to the right to take in the view, only to find it 
blocked by soft folds of cloth. Blinking, he looked up, straight into the 
eyes of his host.

 “Lord Elrond!” Frodo jumped to his feet, brushing imaginary dirt from 
his trousers, then wondered if the elf would take it that he was insinuating 
the halls were filthy. “I…um…didn’t hear you approach.”

 The handsome elf smiled at him. “My apologies for startling you, Frodo. I 
was on my way to the library when I heard the most delightful sound. I 
must admit my curiosity was piqued.”

 Frodo was having a hard time concentrating on the words being spoken, 
his mind having caught like a fly in a web with the word ‘library.’ He 
released a small breath he found himself holding and gazed at his host, 
trying very hard not to whine. “The…library?”

 Elrond smiled in that wise, elven way he had, for of course he had seen 
the growing restlessness in his guest and felt an obligation to the young 
hobbit as it was Elrond’s advice that Frodo stay indoors for now. He 
placed an arm around Frodo’s thin shoulder and led him along with him 
down the hall. “Yes, Rivendell has an extensive collection of books. Being 
as you can read most of the texts, I thought you might be interested in 
seeing it.” Elrond found himself rewarded with sparkling blue eyes and a 
beautiful smile.

 “I would very much love to see it, thank you! Bilbo’s teachings shall 
surely come of use now to keep my mind entertained. Er…not that the 
views have been less than spectacular, or the company found 
wanting…or...”

 Elrond smiled warmly and squeezed his good shoulder gently as they 
walked down the hall. “Do not trouble yourself Frodo; the mind must take 
on exercise as well as the body for full recovery. One cannot spend the 
entire day feasting.” 

 Frodo was not sure, and he was far too polite to ask, but he had the notion 
Lord Elrond was perhaps referring to his fellow hobbits. To the elf, 
hobbits must seem intently focused on food, either the acquiring, 
preparing or consuming of it. In this way, as in quite a few others, Frodo 
felt more like an elf than a hobbit. In fact, Sam would often fret if he 
forgot to have lunch and it was hard to explain to the strapping gardener 
how pages full of elegant writing could occupy one’s mind to the point of 
forgetting ones stomach. Still, at least Sam patiently accepted his excuses, 
unlike Pippin who seemed to take personal offence at the very idea of 
missing a meal.

 Lord Elrond led Frodo across a stone viaduct and into a building the 
hobbit had never been to before. It was sheltered above by huge trees 
which kept it cool even during the height of day, and was one of the few 
buildings that actually contained shuttered windows. The windows 
themselves were tall and narrow, nearly running from floor to ceiling, well 
over the hobbit’s head. The elves were so at peace with their natural world 
that they enjoyed rain when it came, and often did not shut themselves 
away from it. However, they had long ago realized the decaying nature of 
moisture upon paper and crafted beautiful glass panes to keep out the 
storms. The walls between the windows were lined with bookshelves, 
almost completely filled with books of every size, and the familiar scent of 
old leather and paper filled the air. It was darker in here than in other 
buildings and Elrond stopped at a small desk in the foyer to light a candle. 
Smiling back at Frodo, he motioned him to follow and led the hobbit 
through an arched doorway in the back of the room.

 Frodo tried very hard to keep from gasping as he entered one room after 
another as they wound their way through the building. Each room was 
loosely assigned to particular subjects which Elrond helpfully pointed out, 
and Frodo finally began to appreciate the concept of being immortal. The 
elves had amassed a wealth of knowledge on these shelves alone, and this 
was in just one of their cities. They finally came to a door with no handle 
and Elrond pushed slightly, causing the door to swing open. Perfectly 
balanced, it swung slowly back to it’s original position and Frodo realized 
it wasn’t to keep anyone out of the room, but to provide a measure of 
solitude and quiet to read by. 

 The room was smaller than the others, quite cozy even by hobbit 
standards. There were soft, woven mats upon the floor, a low wooden 
table covered with various volumes which Elrond set his candle on, and a 
comfy looking chair with large arms that had been stuffed generously with 
down and sweet grasses and covered with a thick tapestry. The room was 
circular, which appealed greatly to Frodo’s hobbit senses, and just roomy 
enough for three people at best. Carved wooden shelves lined the walls 
and reading the spines of several of the books on them, he realized they 
greatly ranged in subject. Finally tearing his eyes away from the walls, he 
glanced at his host who stood smiling at him, and realized he was most 
likely standing square in Lord Elrond’s private study.

  “This is most amazing…” Frodo began, rotating slowly as he took in the 
whole room.

 Elrond smiled warmly. “I’m glad you like it. There is something about 
this room that promotes the easing of the spirit. I have enjoyed many hours 
here and I hope you may as well. Please, make yourself comfortable.”

 Frodo suddenly felt like a young child given the keys to the kingdom and 
he was more than a little intimidated. “Oh, no really I couldn’t…”

 Elrond’s eyebrow climbed up his forehead. “Does this room not please 
you? There are others…”

 Frodo blushed, furious with himself for managing to insult his host no 
matter how hard he had tried not to, and stumbled over his words. “Oh! 
No, I am just…it’s too…I couldn’t…”

 Elrond turned and began to pluck various volumes off the shelves. “Of 
course you can, I’ve just graciously invited you to.” Out of the corner of 
his eye, the elf watched Frodo’s reaction and was pleased to see the hobbit 
gulp, although he felt a bit guilty for playing on the hobbit’s sense of 
polite behavior to get him to accept the offer. He set several books on the 
table and looked at Frodo. “Bilbo has told me much about you, Frodo, and 
I know you appreciate and respect what is in this library. It would make 
me very happy to share this space with someone who enjoys these books 
as much as I do. Please, relax. Surely there are enough subjects in this 
library to peak your interest in something.”

 Almost beyond his will, Frodo’s hand reached out to caress the cover of a 
smooth, leather book that Elrond had gotten from the wall shelf, and a 
smile crept across his face. “Thank you very much indeed! You know my 
heart well Lord Elrond, and have given me a great gift. I shall enjoy 
myself immensely here.”

 Elrond grinned, inordinately pleased at Frodo’s acceptance. “Across the 
way, there is a small fire kept with which to make tea, and more candles 
about if you need the light. I must return to my duties, so I will leave this 
study in your capable hands.” 

 He bowed to Frodo, who bowed back, but the solemnity of the gesture 
was marred by the eagerness in the hobbit’s eyes. All these books to lose 
himself in! He waited with quiet dignity until he could no longer hear the 
elf’s footsteps, then he waited a little bit more, knowing elves tread very 
lightly. When he could contain himself no longer, he rubbed his hands 
together and hopped a little dance about the chair, grinning like a fool as 
he eagerly scoped out the volumes on the shelves. He was terribly excited 
inside, and could only think this was what his cousins felt every time they 
raided Farmer Maggot’s field. 

 He spent the first half hour just reviewing what was already in the study. 
Aside from the cushioned chair, there were several maps, a looking glass 
and some metal instruments used for charting. There was a spray of dried 
flowers sitting in a broken clay cup at the top of one shelf, and a terribly 
ancient looking wooden ball on another. Frodo climbed into the chair, 
feeling so much the small child again. The chair was roomy even by elven 
standards, and seemed to nearly swallow him whole. His feet still dangled 
off the seat, and he pulled a blanket over his legs as they were somewhat 
chilled. As he did so, something made a soft “plop” onto the floor, and 
looking down, he spotted a pair of worn slippers. Smiling to himself, he 
gently wriggled his toes into the soft material, not surprised that he could 
not get his whole foot in them. He took them off and glanced at the door, 
feeling somewhat guilty for trying on Lord Elrond’s personal footwear, 
and returned to the contents of the study.

 Chiefly, of course were the books. Many volumes on the geography of the 
area, one entire book filled with the observations of one elf on the weather 
and its effects on a particular river. After Frodo had skimmed through over 
a hundred pages of text on the river, he closed the book and shook his 
head. How much could one say about a river, anyway? But, as his Uncle 
Bilbo often said: “That’s elves for you.” Being immortal, they could 
afford to devote many years to looking at stars, sorting and naming plants 
and writing about rivers. 

 There were other books too, books on healing techniques, proper ways to 
carve certain types of rock, a record of various tattoos, as well as a 
cookbook. The historical books held the most interest for him, but some 
passages were hard going. Many of them were written in older forms of 
elvish, and by the end of the day, Frodo was searching the other rooms in 
the library for translation texts. Several were of great use to him, and he 
spent many grand hours pouring over the real treasure of Rivendell.

 Unlike the pervious days, evening came on fast for the hobbit, and before 
long one of the elves came to fetch him for dinner. Lord Elrond was 
pleased to see the light had returned to Frodo’s eyes and spent time at 
dinner listening as Frodo recounted some of what he had read, quizzing 
the elf on points he did not understand, and thanking him profusely. The 
other hobbits were also pleased at how happy Frodo seemed, although 
only Sam really appreciated what this was doing for Frodo’s spirit. As far 
as Merry and Pippin were concerned, the weather was ideal for roaming 
and the idea of spending all day cooped up in a dark building with nothing 
but reading to be done was not something they wanted to be a part of. 

  Merry grinned with conspiratorial mischief at Frodo. “Reading is all fine 
and well for a cold winter’s day, but the breezes in Rivendell are sweet, 
and those from the apple grove are said to be the sweetest.” 

 “Oh, and why is that, do you think?”

 Sam sighed, though he smiled at Merry and Pippin. “They’ve set their 
hearts on fetching some honey tomorrow. We spotted hives as big as our 
heads in the great groves on the west bank.”

 Pippin sipped his tea and nodded. “Aye, and Lord Elrond said we could 
harvest some, if we’ve a mind to.” Merry watched Frodo, used to seeing 
the subtle disappointment in his cousin’s eyes when they planned on doing 
something that would be too strenuous for him. But Frodo only beamed at 
them, the library distracting him enough from what he would be missing 
out on. 

 “You must promise to share your spoils with me, when you return!”

 Sam, too, was watching closely. “I’ll stay with you, if you like, Mr. 
Frodo.”

 Frodo melted somewhat, knowing the sacrifice the younger hobbit had 
already made on his behalf when he first came to Rivendell. But how to be 
tactful? “That’s all right Sam, you can go with them in the morning, then 
come visit me in the afternoon. I can even read you whatever interesting 
things I find.” Sam smiled warmly at him, and Frodo knew he had gotten 
it right.

 The next morning found Frodo hopping out of bed earlier than usual, the 
pain and stiffness in his shoulder still present, but the lure of the library 
took his mind well off of it. He was just finishing getting dressed and 
stepped out onto the veranda when he spotted the small party of honey-
hunters making their way along the steep path to the river. He began to 
wonder if they could hear him if he yelled, when Sam turned to look up to 
his room. Frodo smiled and waved frantically with his good arm, receiving 
hoots and frantic waving back. Sam beamed bright as the sun, and that 
fluttery feeling Frodo often got in his stomach was there again. The party 
slowly moved off, Sam being the last to look back at him. Frodo breathed 
deeply and strode off to find his Uncle for breakfast.

 Bilbo of course knew of the library, and had spent many days there 
reading and making notes. “Truth is, I get tired now, reading about all that 
haring around those elves did.” Frodo shared a laugh with Bilbo, but 
noticed how weary his uncle seemed these days, and how often he found 
him napping. It was a natural cycle of life, but it gave Frodo a measure of 
comfort that Bilbo was in the care of the elves. After breakfast, Frodo bid 
his uncle a good morning and set off for his new favorite spot. 

 There was a soft breeze blowing as he walked along the stone gangway, 
the leaves falling like a gentle rain, their rustle ever present. The library 
was empty and customarily cool, but burrowing into Elrond’s study and 
nesting into the padded chair made him feel secure and cozy. He had a 
better idea now of which volumes he wanted to concentrate on, and it was 
afternoon before he knew it. He took a break, strolling around the city as 
he often did, hoping Sam and Merry and Pippin would return, but 
apparently honey gathering was taking more time than they had 
anticipated. After a light lunch with Gandalf, he wandered back to the 
library and would have stayed there till nightfall if Sam hadn’t knocked 
softly on the swinging door, signaling their return.

 “Sam! Come in. I’ve been expecting you all afternoon.”

 “I’m sorry Mr. Frodo, sir. We got held up a bit. Mr. Pippin was of the 
opinion the bees should just place their honey in his pot as it were, but 
they were of a different mind.”

 Frodo laughed at Sam’s description and rose to find another seat for him. 
In another room, the hobbits found a padded stool which Sam hefted 
easily into Elrond’s study. Frodo settled himself into Elrond’s seat with 
Sam on the stool next to him, leaning easily on one of the large stuffed 
arms. Sam had always enjoyed listening to elvish poetry and Frodo had 
discovered a rather fine volume of it, so he began to read to the younger 
hobbit, the sing-song language of the elves giving the study a dreamlike 
quality. Frodo read passage after passage and watched Sam fight 
drowsiness brought about by the morning’s endeavors. He had started with 
his elbows resting on the arm of the chair, his head in his hands, and 
sagged until his head rested on his own arms, eyelids blinking slowly. 

 By the time Frodo had finished the last line, Sam’s head was resting on 
the arm of the chair and he was snoring softly. Frodo tilted his own head 
back, stretching muscles, and looked fondly at the tousled head beside 
him. His affection for the young hobbit welled up inside him again, and he 
sighed. Sam was normally an industrious hobbit, and his impromptu nap 
was an indication of how much Frodo’s injury had taken out of him. 
Gandalf had told him Sam had never left his side, and Frodo knew it was 
no exaggeration. Sam probably had less rest and more worry than any of 
them, and he needed to recover from it.

 Frodo allowed himself the luxury of studying the normally active hobbit 
closely. Sam meant more to him than anyone in the world, and he wished 
more than once that he were a lass. He had no doubt that if he were, he 
and Sam would be dancing only with each other at festivals and feasts, and 
that folk would ask when they were to be married. At least, that was the 
fantasy Frodo often had. He had no desire to actually be a female, but he 
would daydream himself and Sam as a couple in his mind, and the only 
way that would ever come to be is if he were a lass. He couldn’t, of 
course, swear that Sam would have him, but he knew he would work hard 
to make Sam his, if he were not a boy. 

 He thought back to Uncle Bilbo’s obligatory “talk” with him, more than a 
few years ago now. The poor old hobbit had been more embarrassed and 
befuddled than Frodo had ever seen him, and it had been difficult not to 
burst into laughter. But Bilbo had at least gotten his points across, and 
Frodo finally understood how the things were between a lad and a lass. 
The main object for a male hobbit his age was to begin assessing girls for 
compatibility, trying to find someone who would keep him happy and be 
happy with him, take care of him and raise a strong family. When Frodo 
asked the inevitable question as to why Bilbo himself was alone, the 
answer was vague and inconclusive. “We’re here to talk about young 
hobbits, my boy, not about old cogers like me.” And so, the conversation 
had drawn to a close, with Frodo clear on what was expected of him. 

 Unfortunately, it never seemed to happen. No matter who he set his eyes 
on at Shire gatherings, or who he danced with or took long walks with, no 
lass ever seemed to catch his heart. He couldn’t see himself spending a 
fortnight in close quarters with any of them, let alone the rest of his life. It 
wasn’t that he was afraid or intimidated by them, in fact, he felt very little 
towards them. And it wasn’t until one particular party that all his trouble 
started. He had been watching Sam, who had grown into a fine example of 
a hobbit and his forever best friend, dancing with some of the lasses. Sam 
was not a dancer at heart, and it had taken much prodding by himself and 
Merry to even get Sam to stand up, but the poor young hobbit had given in 
at last, and was twirling one of the girls around the trampled grass. At one 
point in the music, he scooped her up into his arms and spun around twice, 
catching her off guard and making her squeal with delight. 

 It had been at that moment that Frodo wished for the impossible. All he 
could remember was seeing Sam’s strong arms around that girl, lifting her 
up with ease and cradling her against his body, and how much Frodo 
wanted to be the one Sam was holding. The feeling was intense, and 
seemed to burn a hole through his soul as it traveled to his heart and 
burrowed in, to stay there to this day. Frodo remembered his face flushing 
brightly, and excusing himself from the table to run off behind one of the 
party sheds to sort things out. He had loitered there for nearly an hour, and 
when Pippin finally found him and drug him back to the party, Frodo had 
already searched his heart, and knew. 

 For weeks afterward, his torment had been complete. He found himself 
wanting to be around Sam as much as possible, and savored every friendly 
touch and pat that Sam gave him. He had masturbated and cried himself to 
sleep more nights than he wanted to count, always with the image of Sam 
in his mind, even though he wasn’t even sure how he would go about 
doing anything with another male. According to the way their bodies were 
constructed, there was no way he could ever do anything no matter how 
much his heart might have desired it. In the end, he would envision Sam 
standing before him, stroking his beautiful organ, his head thrown back 
and his lips open, moaning Frodo’s name until hot spurts of his seed 
splashed against Frodo’s straining body. He did feel a bit guilty about all 
this, as Sam was his best friend, but there was no stopping it, and watching 
Sam had become a favored pastime. Frodo also knew that it was all going 
to come to a crashing halt someday when Sam found himself a lass to 
marry. That’s where Frodo’s fantasies would jump in. He could envision 
himself and Sam, elderly gentlehobbits, holding hands as they strolled 
around the Shire, their happiness complete. 

 But of course, that was never going to happen. Frodo carefully buried his 
strange desires in his heart, never speaking of them to anyone and making 
sure no one suspected. Over time, Frodo became quite the little actor, 
letting his desire for Sam express itself in friendship and generosity. He 
was quite sure Sam had no clue and he was equally sure Sam would 
abandon him if the young hobbit were to ever find out about his feelings. 
Oh, it wouldn’t happen suddenly. Sam would continue to be his friend for 
some time, but he would slowly drift away, wanting to distance himself 
from his best friend who now made him uncomfortable. Sam would stop 
patting his arm or giving him brotherly hugs, become unable to really look 
Frodo in the eye, and this more than anything would break Frodo. Never 
once since the death of his parents did Frodo have any desire to be near 
deep water, but he had no doubt that the day Sam pulled away from him, 
he was going to consider letting the rough waters take him away.

 Frodo sighed again, gazing at Sam’s sun-kissed locks. Living on the 
knife’s edge as he did took more out of him that he liked to admit. Every 
moment alone with Sam was an ecstasy and an agony. He laid his head 
next to Sam’s on the chair arm, feeling the warmth from the other hobbit 
soak into him. His fingers twitched, and before he knew it, his hand was 
sneaking closer to Sam’s hair, the need to feel those soft locks 
overwhelming. His finger teased one unruly curl away from its brothers 
and he watched as it obediently wound itself around his digit, causing 
Frodo to muse how Sam’s hair was very much like its host. Soft and 
gentle, winding around his heart before he even knew what was 
happening. 

 Water filled his eyes thinking about it, but he blinked furiously to clear 
them. He thought he heard footsteps in the foyer and realized it was most 
likely dinner time and someone would be there to fetch them. He used this 
as an excuse to wrap his arm around Sam’s back to shake him gently, 
whispering his name and inhaling the scent from the mass of curls under 
his nose. Sam awoke, blinking sleepily, apologizing for nodding off, but 
Frodo only smiled at him. An elf knocked softly on the door and entered, 
announcing their attendance was required for dinner. 

  The next day was spent with his Uncle Bilbo and then with Merry, Sam 
and Pippin playing games and walking about. Frodo was a bit stronger and 
could handle small hikes, and he suspected the three of them were feeling 
a little guilty for leaving him so much. They entertained themselves for 
most of the day, but by late afternoon, Frodo had had enough and excused 
himself to rest. Once in his quarters, though, he found sleep eluded him 
and quietly stole away to the library. His body needed the rest, but his 
mind was wide awake and there was no sense wasting it. A beautiful lady 
elf passed him as he stopped to light a candle, book clutched to her breast, 
smiling and nodding to him. He lowered his eyes and nodded back, then 
prowled around the rooms, seeing if he was alone or if anyone else 
remained. As usual for this time of day, he had the place to himself.

 He wandered into another room which contained reference books and 
began to peruse the ones on biology. Many were studies of animals and 
their habits and there was even a rather amusing tome on the strange 
beliefs and customs of humans. On a lower shelf he spied a large book 
bound in a deep red leather, looking very worn and well read and  his 
curiosity burned. The book was unwieldy to hold open by himself, so he 
set it on one of the tables and scrambled onto a stool to get a good look. 
Instead of opening it to the front page, he flipped it open to somewhere in 
the middle to get a quick idea of the contents, and what he saw made his 
eyes bulge and his hand to slam the book shut.

 Good heavens! Did he really see what he thought he saw? Blinking, he 
slowly opened the book again, and there they were, no denying it! 
Drawings, dozens of them, with elegant script next to them, done in pen 
by an artist’s skilled hand. And every last one of them a set of naked 
bodies engaged in sex. Sweating, he closed the book again, this time with 
more control. Nervously, he peeked around the room, expecting Lord 
Elrond or his Uncle to catch him looking at things he probably shouldn’t, 
and getting a pinched ear for his transgression. 

 He wiped a shirt sleeve over his wet brow and considered. He was an 
adult hobbit, after all, even if he didn’t always feel like it. And Elrond did 
say he could look at anything he wanted. Biting his bottom lip nervously, 
he decided he would feel better if he were in the semi-privacy of Elrond’s 
study, so he carefully climbed down the stool and hefted the book into his 
arms and carted it off. It was lucky he met no one on his way, for he was 
very sure he would faint dead away, or at the very least, drop the book on 
his foot. Once back in the big chair, partially hidden from view by the 
large arms, he settled the book in his lap and started from the beginning.

 The first pages spoke of love and friendship, companionship and comfort, 
all good reasons for the sharing of pleasure, but it wasted no time coming 
to the heart of the subject and Frodo quickly learned more in four pages 
than Uncle Bilbo had ever told him. In fact, by the eighth page, Frodo was 
quite sure this was more than Uncle Bilbo was even aware of. The 
drawings were like tiny pieces of precious art, done tastefully, yet still 
illustrating explicitly what the text spoke of. There were clear cut 
directions on how to achieve the most pleasure for you and your partner, 
as well as suggestions and recipes for oils to allow ease of movement. By 
the middle of the book, Frodo  was scowling, not sure these more athletic 
positions could even be achieved by his less nimble race. 

 Somewhere after the middle of the book the drawings began to change. 
He hadn’t noticed at first, but glancing ahead, he swore the two figures 
both sported male genitalia. Stopping to read the text, he gasped. There, in 
flagrant black and white, was his most carefully buried secret! How could 
this be? Surely he was the only one who thought these things, the only one 
who’s mind could even consider taking pleasure with another male. Yet, 
there it was, complete with explicit directions. Resuming his breath, he 
darted a quick look at the door, more nervous than ever now, but very 
determined to see what all this was about.

  There was no denying that the one drawing was of a male elf, his hand 
firmly grasping the organ of another, even as his own was fondled by his 
partner. There were beautiful drawings of two males kissing, and it made 
his heart squeeze with the wanting of it. Yet another showed an elf, his 
head thrown back in ecstasy as his mate sucked one of his nipples while 
rolling the other in his fingers. Turning the page, Frodo saw males 
stroking and petting each other all over, the better to sensitize the skin and 
create tension, licking and blowing to raise gooseflesh. He himself was 
sweating like a runner, the air in the study seemed still and close, despite 
the open windows.

  What was more intriguing were the following pages, which illustrated 
different forms of sex between males. Things Frodo could not imagine 
even in his most heated dreams sprang before him. One male licking and 
then swallowing his partner’s swollen organ as the other reached under to 
caress his lover’s orbs. Two males swallowing each other’s seed 
simultaneously, their bodies forming a perfect union. Farther on, drawings 
of lovers caressing and probing the back openings of their partners, with 
detailed instructions on how to stretch and prepare the man to receive an 
engorged member without pain. 
 Lubrications were again discussed, as well as cleanliness and healing. 
Frodo, hard now with sweat covering his body and his breathing shallow, 
could not tear his eyes from the ones showing one partner penetrating 
another. At first, he had been shocked that a male would want to do this, 
but then he pictured Sam doing this to him and a slow burning flush crept 
over his skin as his desire for just such a thing made itself known. One 
male eased his organ into his lover slowly until he was fully inside, then 
began the typical in and out motion which hit some sort of spark within 
the body of his partner, bringing him to ecstasy. The lovers kissed and 
grasped hands as they coupled, the love between them evident on their 
faces, and Frodo shut the book as tears sprang to his eyes.

 He bent himself over the book and let quiet tears fall. The knowledge that 
he was not alone in his desires was at once liberating and overwhelming. 
The fact that another race of beings felt as he did was a cold comfort, why 
couldn’t he and Sam have been born elves, instead? Sam wouldn’t have 
his sweet curly hair nor his hobbity feet, but they would be able to kiss and 
love each other as they wished. Frodo idly wondered if he didn’t perhaps 
have some elf in him, seeing as he did not have a problem with two males 
loving each other. It just wasn’t fair. Soft sobs escaped him for a while 
before he could pull himself together, and he was thankful he had put his 
handkerchief in his pocket. 

 Rubbing the last traces of wetness from his eyes, he set the book on the 
arm of the chair to better utilize the light and went on. There were more 
illustrations of various positions, including one which was better for those 
who were new to male love. Frodo knew he would remember all of them, 
and would be picturing himself and Sam doing these things for the rest of 
his life. Farther on were pages depicting two female lovers and all the 
pleasure they could bring each other, and the book ended with multiple 
partners of various sexes. The very last page showed a large group 
together and try as he might, Frodo couldn’t tell what belonged to whom. 
His eyebrows had climbed up his forehead some time ago, and weren’t 
likely to come back down for some time. It was then he heard someone 
softly clear their throat.

 Frodo gasped and looked up, his shock at finding Sam standing there 
before him causing his hand to jostle the book and have it crash to the 
floor between the chair and the table. “AH!” he cried.

 “I’m very sorry, Sir! I didn’t mean ta scare ya. It’s just that it’s time for 
dinner, and Lord Elrond sent me to fetch you, and I didn’t want ta be 
yellin’ in this place and…here, I’ve made you drop your book...” Sam bent 
down to retrieve the book, and Frodo’s heart nearly stopped as he vaulted 
out of the chair.

 “No! No…it’s fine Sam, really. Just leave it, I’ll…pick it up later.”

 “No, it’s my fault for startling you so, and it wouldn’t do to be hurlin’ Mr. 
Elrond’s books about.” 

 “AH! Oh…owww..” Frodo didn’t like to lie to Sam, but he was desperate. 
He clutched at his shoulder and winced convincingly. 

  True to his nature, Sam came to Frodo’s rescue. “Are you all right, sir?”

 “Ow..I think I hurt myself getting out of that chair. Forget the book and 
help me please, Sam?”

 Sam pulled Frodo gently to his side and patted him on the arm. “Of 
course Mr. Frodo. You really shouldn’t be leapin’ about with such a bad 
wound. Lean on me if you have to. Do you think you’re hurtin’ too much 
for dinner?” 

 Frodo began to walk out of the study with Sam attached to his side. He 
mused how he would have knocked the other hobbit unconscious and 
carried him out himself if Sam hadn’t cooperated. “I..I think I’ll feel better 
once I get some air, thank you.”

 True to his word, Frodo seemed to recover just fine once they had gone 
across the stone bridge and headed into the dining hall. Sam kept an extra 
close eye on him to make sure he did not injure himself further, but 
although the dark haired hobbit seemed to be in fine spirits, he didn’t eat 
nearly enough for Sam’s liking. In fact, Frodo seemed unaccountably 
nervous and distracted, especially after openly staring at a couple of elves 
across the table. The two were tall and blonde, like most of their race, and 
if it weren’t for the fact that they cooed and doted on each other now and 
again, Sam would have been hard pressed to tell if they were males or 
females. Frodo seemed to have a hard time tearing his eyes  away, and by 
the end of the meal, he was pale and worn looking, so the three hobbits 
escorted him to bed. Sam stayed up for a while playing cards with Merry 
while Pippin drank himself silly, then bid them both a good night and left 
for his own bed.

 Once there, however, his thoughts kept turning back to Frodo and his odd 
behavior. He would never publicly admit it, but Frodo was everything to 
him and whatever bothered Frodo, it was up to Sam to take care of. Since 
he was a young lad, he had defended Frodo against the other hobbits who 
would say nasty things about the strange looking lad living with Crazy Old 
Bilbo. Looking back, it was just kids teasing, but Sam had to lie more than 
once to his father to explain why he got into so many scraps and had so 
many bruises. But it was worth it all, when he spent time at Bag End. 
Frodo was like certain flowers the Gaffer had taught him to tend. Taken 
care of, they grew strong and hale. Left to fend for themselves, and they 
were overrun with weeds. 

 As Frodo grew, he came to be more than friend to Sam, though Frodo 
could never know it. When Sam began to have strong feelings at night and 
urges he couldn’t explain, they tended to feature Frodo most prominently. 
The other lads began to talk amongst themselves about lasses and kissing 
and eventually doing other things, and before long Sam had a clear idea 
what he’d like to be doing, only it wasn’t with any of the lasses he wanted 
to be doing it with. Still, most of the others were starting to meet in 
discrete places and get their hands on some naked girl flesh, so he had 
decided to find out for himself what the fuss was about. 

 Sure enough, his first taste of life was a doe-eyed lass behind the barn 
during someone’s birthday celebration. She was cute and sweet and her 
eyes reminded him of Frodo’s. Her lips were soft and willing and he 
shuddered when she let him put his hand on her ample breast. After that, 
they sought each other out at every occasion. He had learned from 
listening to the others what the goal was, and before long, his hand was up 
her skirts and touching her soft mound. She trembled at his touch and 
encouraged him with long strokes to his member, but Sam found himself 
unable to keep from pretending it was Frodo’s small hand on his hardness, 
instead of hers. In the end, it was the thought of Frodo, naked and writhing 
under him which brought him to orgasm, and he bit his lip to keep from 
calling out his name. Afterwards, the girl became petulant and whiny and 
he thought she smelled funny, so he ran off. From that night on, she never 
gave him anything other than horrid looks and would have nothing more 
to do with him. He felt bad running out on her, but there was nothing for 
it.

 Sam loved his Master, plain and simple. He took the most pleasure in 
seeing Frodo’s eyes light up, and that shy smile come onto his face. His 
dreams were full of strange imaginings, but they always ended with Frodo 
whispering to him how he loved him, had always loved him. Sometimes 
they spoke of their love for each other in the language of the elves, lest the 
others know what they were feeling. The image of the two of them 
entwined in cotton sheets was a pleasant vision that usually calmed Sam 
enough to sleep, but he found no such peace tonight.

 Sighing, he opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. He played the dinner 
back through his mind, noting things which had escaped his initial 
attention. Sam was a gardener at heart, and one did not learn how to excel 
in his work without careful observation. Thinking back, he realized Frodo 
was acting strange well before dinner, in Elrond’s library. His face was 
very flush, and his eyes were slightly red. Sam had touched his arm and 
detected no fever, so he wasn’t worried about that yet. Frodo seemed 
oddly unconcerned about the book that had fallen on the floor, though, and 
that was certainly not like him. He treated books like Sam nursed roses. 
No book, no matter how frivolous the subject matter may seem, was ever 
allowed to stand open on the floor at Bag End. 

 Throwing back the covers, Sam gave into a hunch and hopped out of bed. 
Dressing himself in pants and a shirt, he stole quietly out of his room and 
made his way by moonlight to the little stone bridge at the entrance to the 
library. He saw elves walking down below, strolling in the moonlight and 
taking in the air, but he came across none on his journey. Still, he kept 
quiet as a mouse as he entered the building, lighting a candle in the foyer 
and making his way to the back study. 

 All was as he and Frodo had left it, including the book wedged between 
the chair and the table. He set the candle on the table and fished the book 
from between the furniture, then hopped up onto the chair to have a look 
at what had been so interesting to Frodo that the lad had never heard him 
approach earlier. He stopped for a moment as his whole body leaned back 
and seemed to sink into the stuffed padding like a rock into mud. Smiling, 
he opened the book and then promptly shot straight up again.

 He blinked and blinked, but the pages stayed the same. It was full of 
naked folks! Elves, to be precise. Gasping, he turned pages rapidly, unable 
to read the ancient text, but the pictures were worth a thousand words. 
“Goodness, Mr. Frodo!” he said in a whisper. No wonder the poor hobbit 
had been so shaken. Sam turned the pages more slowly, taking in all the 
different positions and whatnots that were represented there. He flipped to 
the end of the book, wondering how it all wrapped up, and was faced with 
the most strange pile of naked beings, all doing amazing things to each 
other. One in particular caught his eye; a male elf had another elf’s organ 
deep in his mouth, while yet another was inserting his member into his 
rectum. Sam groaned softly and fell back into the chair.

 He flipped through the book, his progress much faster than Frodo’s as he 
didn’t bother with the text. There were many drawings of couples, but he 
slowed down considerably when he came to the section about male lovers. 
His heart rate increased and his trousers tightened as he looked, 
envisioning doing these things to his sweet, sweet Master. He especially 
liked the one where the one male was on top of the other and he was 
imagining Frodo’s feet in the air, his head thrown back with abandon. It 
was then Sam heard a small rustle outside the study and looking over the 
arm, he could see a faint light coming from under the door.

 Quick as a flash, he quietly closed the book, set it on the table and flipped 
himself over the arm of the chair to hide on the other side. He waited as 
quiet as only hobbits can do, and listened. The door swung in gently and 
whomever entered did so on cat feet. Curious, he snuck a peek around the 
front of the chair and scowled. Those were hobbit feet! Just then he heard 
a small gasp and a soft cry.

 “Oh no…it’s moved! But who? Oh, not Lord Elrond, I do hope…” 

 Sam knew that voice anywhere, and he hated the anguish he heard in it, 
so he rose from his hiding place to put Frodo’s mind at ease. “It’s okay, 
Mr. Frodo, it’s only me!” he whispered.

 “Ahhhh!” Frodo yelped, eyes the size of dinner plates.

 “Oh! I’m sorry…again!”

 Frodo swallowed hard, clutching at his shoulder and seeming to deflate. 
“Sam, you really need to stop doing that. You’ve taken six years from me 
already.”

 Sam bustled around the chair and gently guided Frodo to sit down in it, 
rubbing his arms with a concerned look on his face. “I know, I am very 
sorry. I don’t mean it, sir.”

 Frodo, recovered from his fright, smiled at him. “I know you don’t Sam, 
don’t even trouble yourself about it. But tell me, why are you here so 
late?”

 Sam clamped down on the compelling urge to look over at the book. “I 
was...well, I was worried about you, you see, bein’ as you didn’t seem 
yourself at dinner and…why you aren’t in bed, if you don’ mind my being 
so forward?” he asked, more than willing to put off his confession.

 Actually, Frodo would have loved to not answer, but he felt he owed 
Sam. “Well, like you, I couldn’t sleep and I thought…well, to be honest, I 
wasn’t comfortable leaving that book on the floor and…erm…” His 
speech ground to a halt as he realized it had to be Sam who had moved the 
book, and the young hobbit had most likely peeked at it. His cheeks 
flamed red as he also realized Sam now knew exactly what his Master had 
been looking at earlier in the evening. 

 Sam noted the elevated color in Frodo’s face and looked away. They both 
knew what was in that book, but that knowledge was costing them, and 
Sam hated anything that distressed Frodo. He cleared his throat and 
stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Those elves…pretty interesting things 
they get up to, eh Mr. Frodo?”

 Frodo seized the chance his friend was giving him and laughed nervously. 
“Too true Sam! I couldn’t imagine…I mean, the combinations in there!”

 Sam chuckled too, trying to ease the tension. “I know! I think most of 
those are made up anyway. You couldn’t possibly twist yourself into some 
of those knots, least a ways not without damaging something vital.”

  “I agree. Two males doing those sorts of things to each other? Pure 
fiction, if you ask me.”

  Sam stopped laughing and seemed to consider. “Well, that’s not 
completely out of the question. Merry and Pippin said they knew some 
lads who got up to that sort of thing.”

 Frodo’s demeanor changed in a heartbeat and he leaped out of the chair. 
“WHAT?”

 “Mr. Merry and Mr. Pippin, sir. Last year they said they’d seen some lads 
doing…things…behind the barn that night. Said they’d been doing that for 
some while now.”

 Frodo’s nervousness disappeared, and his hands flew to his hips in an 
indignant gesture. “Why didn’t anyone tell me this?”

 Sam fidgeted slightly. “Well, it’s not the sort of thing nice hobbits chat 
about, if you take my meanin’, sir. And what with you being a 
gentlehobbit and all, I daresay-“

 Frodo snorted, more than tired of being treated like something fragile by 
his peers. He was doubly vexed as he had worried all these long years 
thinking he was the only one who had such desires. Now, he not only 
discovered elves had the same urges, apparently hobbits did too! He 
flopped back into the chair, sighing in frustration. Sam decided he was 
indeed infatuated with his Master, as he even found a pouty Frodo to be 
adorable.

 “Don’t take it so hard, sir. It’s not like we did it to vex you.”

 Frodo nodded sharply. “I know, Sam. But it’s so hard sometimes, I 
always feel like the odd hobbit out. I just want to know what everyone else 
does, that’s all.”

 Sam patted his arm gently. “I’m sorry, Mr. Frodo, I should have known.” 
He smiled softly at Frodo then, his heart telling him to scoop the other 
hobbit into his arms and soothe his hurt feelings, but his good sense 
squashed the notion. “You always were a curious sort. For a hobbit.”

 Frodo looked up at him and they shared a smile, then Frodo’s eyebrow 
rose and he gave Sam a calculating look. “I’m not the only curious hobbit, 
apparently.” He glanced meaningfully at the book, still waiting patiently 
on the table. 

 Sam chuckled nervously, jamming his hands deep into his pockets again. 
“I…I guess you’re right about that, Mr. Frodo. I couldn’t help but look, to 
be sure. That last one made me most curious, if you take my meanin’.”

 To Sam’s delight, Frodo gave a relaxed laugh, looking straight into his 
eyes. “Too true, Sam! I’m quite put upon to decide who goes with what in 
that one.”

 Sam grinned wide, eager to keep Frodo from returning to that pale, 
anxious hobbit he had seen earlier. “Point of fact, sir, that one in the 
corner? Looks like he’s got himself six arms!”

 “Which one? I must have missed that…” Frodo quickly grabbed the book 
from the table and opened to the back page. Sam, chortling softly, pointed 
to a figure in the pile of writhing bodies, who did indeed look like he was 
the owner of several appendages. Frodo squealed with laughter, making 
Sam’s heart soar. 

 Just then, the wind picked up slightly, making the leaves rustle loudly 
outside and both hobbits froze at once. They waited for a few seconds, but 
no one came. Frodo gave Sam a deliciously wicked look and whispered to 
him. “I feel strange being here so late. Let’s take the book back to my 
room and we shall have our laughs there.”

 “Grand idea Mr. Frodo!” Sam whispered back, and helped the older 
hobbit down from the chair with the large book clasped to his body. They 
took the candle and on silent hobbit feet, scurried like shadows out of the 
library and back to Frodo’s quarters. 

 Once safely inside, they shut the door behind them. Trying to banish the 
feeling of being watched, Frodo slipped the Ring from his neck, tucking it 
into an ornate box on a table by the bed and then both hobbits climbed up 
onto the elevated sleeping platform. They still felt somewhat exposed by 
the open balconies in the room, so they pulled the thin curtains hanging 
over the bed all around them, until they formed a sort of tent enclosure. 
Light from the candles by the bed still filtered through enough to 
illuminate the book, and Sam’s breath caught in his throat when he looked 
at Frodo. The dark haired hobbit was snuggled into his side, and the 
filtered light made his features more soft and ethereal than he had ever 
seen him. He slung an arm around Frodo’s back, and felt him sigh in what 
he hoped was contentment. 

 Frodo balanced the book on his lap, trying very hard to keep a massive 
grin from escaping onto his face. He mused that he had almost died on this 
bed, and now he would be happy to, if he could do so wrapped secure in 
Sam’s embrace. The younger hobbit’s strong arm was around him, his soft 
belly was next to his and the warmth of his body was seeping into Frodo’s 
bones. He had a brief flash of panic about Sam’s nearness and what it 
might do to him, but he was thankful the large book covered his lap 
completely. All he had to do was keep this light and humorous and he 
would get through just fine.

 They started out in the male and female section, Frodo translating some of 
the less embarrassing text and sharing giggles over some of the substances 
used as lubricants and aphrodisiacs. They pointed and snickered at the 
drawings, and bashfully confessed which ones they had done or heard of. 
To Frodo’s dismay, Sam was a bit more experienced than he was. Their 
laughter died down, though, when they finally got to the male on male 
section.
 
 Sam cleared his throat and Frodo grew suddenly shy and quiet. “Do 
you…want me to skip this part?” The images were very graphic, and both 
hobbits felt their faces grow warm.

 Sam blinked, but could not meet his eyes. “Not unless you want to.” He 
breathed deep, enjoying Frodo’s warm scent and the slight tickle of his 
hair against his own cheek.

 Frodo ran his fingers across the image of a couple who were busy 
pleasuring each other with their mouths. “I never knew people did such 
things…at least Bilbo didn’t cover this when we…talked.”

 Sam’s voice was almost a purr. “Oh, I’m not sure this is something our 
elders felt needed to be covered, if you take my meanin’. Fact is, I’m not 
convinced the Old Gaffer would even know about stuff like this.” It was 
definitely getting warm inside their makeshift tent, and Sam squirmed.

 Frodo nodded solemnly. “I see what you mean. This fellow looks like he 
is enjoying himself a great deal. I wonder….I wonder what it feels like?” 
He had asked the question out of curiosity, but Sam gently ran his thumb 
across his arm until Frodo looked at him. Sam looked like he had 
swallowed a crayfish.

 “We could…I mean, if you really’d like to know…we could…test it. If 
you’d like.” Sam had stopped breathing normally long ago, but he nearly 
passed out when Frodo looked at him with those large, wet eyes.

 Frodo swallowed hard himself. He had the impression his next words 
would decide his future relationship with Sam. He could poke the young 
hobbit and laugh, making believe it was a joke Sam was playing, and Sam 
would go along with it. He was quite sure it wasn’t though; Sam wasn’t 
this adept at acting. He could accept Sam’s offer, but what would 
happened after it was all over? They would pleasure each other, and it 
would be the answer to all Frodo’s fevered dreams, but how would he feel 
when Sam got up and left the bed? He looked away, breathing hard as he 
imagined the cold emptiness that would sweep through him when Sam got 
up, dressed himself and went out that door. Nothing, not even the ice-cold 
grip of the Ringwraiths would compare to the devastation he would have 
to endure.

 Sam watched Frodo think, seeing many emotions flit across his face, the 
strongest among them being fear. “We don’t have to, if you don’t want to. 
And it doesn’t have to mean anything, if you don’t want it to.” A small 
sound escaped Sam as he said this, so much did the last offer cost him, but 
Frodo turned sharply to him, his expression intense.

 “That’s just it, Sam. I’m not sure I’d want to do things like this with 
someone who didn’t …care deeply for me.”
 
 “I  care deeply for you, Mr. Frodo.”

 Frodo laughed a miserable nervous laugh. “I know, you are my best 
friend. But…I think…I think the elves are right. In the beginning.” He 
turned the pages to the ones in front that he hadn’t bothered reading to 
Sam. “They talk about love, and how important that is to sharing such 
pleasures. I think…I think I need that sort of thing.” He kept his head bent 
over the book, and Sam saw his eyes close slowly, a look of intense pain 
marring his beautiful face. He spoke in a broken whisper, as if the words 
were coming from very far away. “What the elves are doing here, I think it 
makes a person very open. Like a newborn baby chick. And if you don’t 
have someone to…love you…”

 Sam thought his heart would burst. He bit his lips in indecision, fearful of 
what he very much wanted to say, what he said in whispers many nights 
when his head was safely tucked under covers. He only hoped his instincts 
were right, but there was no creature in the world he felt more sure he 
understood. He leaned close to Frodo’s ear, pulling the other hobbit even 
more into his embrace, and gently ran the tip of his nose along the delicate 
shell. Frodo let out a shaky breath, and Sam whispered into that lovely ear. 
“I love you, Frodo. I always have, and I always will.”

 Frodo’s eyes opened, and two tears swelled out and ran down his cheeks 
as he turned towards Sam. “You, Sam?” He took a shuddering breath, 
hardly daring to believe what he had heard. 

 Sam himself heaved a great sigh of relief and wrapped his other arm 
around Frodo and smiled into his eyes. “Yes, me.”

 Frodo shuddered and laughed. “How long?”

 “Well, I don’t have exact figures, but a long time.”

 Frodo thought for a minute. “Do Merry and Pippin know?”

 Sam blinked, not sure how they figured into this intimate equation. “I 
don’t think so. Least wise, I never told them.Why?”

 Frodo smiled and scrubbed at the wetness on his face. “This time, I don’t 
want to be the last to know.” 

 Sam smiled, the one that always made Frodo’s middle feel all fluttery, 
and Frodo gently closed the book, setting it aside. His hands began to 
shake, both from the knowledge he had just gained, and the idea of what 
they both were about to do. His thoughts were in such a flurried state, he 
had no notion of what to do or say next. Thankfully, Sam was a practical 
hobbit. Despite his own shaking hands, he gently cupped Frodo’s face and 
brought him in for a sweet kiss. He had intended to only brush his lips 
against Frodo’s at first, but the feel of that soft flesh against his own was 
like a torch to dry grass, and their lips were tightly locked to each other 
before they knew it. Tongues followed closely behind, first skimming 
across flesh, and then sliding in to welcoming warmth. Frodo’s gasp was 
lost inside the hollow of Sam’s mouth, but the shock of such wet heat left 
him defenseless.  Sam’s arms came around his body and drug him ever 
closer, cradling him as he had once dreamed of. 

 They finally parted, and while they fumbled with shirt buttons, Sam 
realized what Frodo had been trying to say about needing to do this with 
someone you loved. He felt laid open from just one kiss. After they did a 
few of the things in that book, he would be positively defenseless. Frodo’s 
nimble fingers worked his buttons faster and Sam grew excited as Frodo 
practically tore his shirt off his shoulders. His new lover grew impatient!

 That thought made Sam groan slightly. He liked the sound of it, Frodo 
being his lover. He dove at Frodo’s neck, licking and kissing the tender 
flesh and pushing the confining shirt off of him. They both panted loudly, 
squirming and rubbing against each other. Frodo eventually wound up 
under him, and Sam lowered his body onto Frodo’s, making them both 
gasp as they felt the hardness of the other.

 Frodo was drowning in a sea of longed-for sensations. He ground himself 
up against Sam wantonly, loving the feel of Sam’s stiff member against 
his leg, knowing he was the cause of the other hobbit’s excitement. Small 
animal noises were coming from his throat and he couldn’t seem to feel 
enough of Sam’s strong back and shoulders. Those delightful muscles he 
had worshipped from afar were now rippling under his hands. Just when 
Frodo thought he couldn’t go any higher, Sam bent down and took one of 
his nipples in his mouth.

 The taste of the pucker of brown flesh was wonderful, but better than that 
was the sound that came out of Frodo and the way it made him arch up 
into Sam. Sam smiled, still nuzzling the bump, feeling the rest of the warm 
skin under his questing hands bunch into gooseflesh. He moved over to 
the next nipple and rubbed back and forth over that one with his tongue, 
feeling the hard length pushing into his hip stiffen further. As wonderful 
as Frodo’s chest was, Sam was eager to see his lover’s slim hips and what 
lay between. He lifted away from Frodo, causing him to whine, and began 
to paw at the fastenings of Frodo’s trousers.

 Realizing what Sam was trying to do, Frodo giggled and pushed his hands 
out of the way. The poor young hobbit was in no condition to operate 
complicated mechanisms such as buttons, and Frodo had no doubt Sam 
would eventually give up and just tear them off of him. He undid the 
fastenings, and looked up at Sam from under his lashes, suddenly feeling 
very shy when he realized he had never revealed himself to anyone before. 
Sam took one look at his expression, groaned pitifully and grabbed his 
head, dragging him into another scalding kiss. 

 Frodo leaned back and wiggled, trying to get out of his pants, feeling 
Sam’s wide hands run over his flank as he helped him. He got them as far 
as his knees and then wiggled and squirmed until they were completely 
off. Then he felt the cool air kiss his bare flesh, and he lay naked under 
Sam. Sam seemed to realize this at roughly the same time, and he released 
Frodo’s lips to look down. Frodo gulped, unsure once again, until Sam 
looked up at him and whispered, “You’re beautiful.” Frodo let out his 
breath and smiled slightly, not sure if a boy hobbit could ever be 
considered beautiful, but Sam had said so. He reached for the waistband of 
Sam’s trousers, making his wishes known. Sam obediently sat back, 
letting Frodo work at the fastenings, feeling a sudden thrill at having his 
lover reveal him.

 Frodo managed to finally get them undone and as he pulled the fabric 
over Sam’s hips, his swollen member bounced out. Frodo gasped and 
unconsciously licked his lips. It was a good size, dark pink, and there was 
already a pearl of milky liquid at the tip that just seemed to beg to be 
touched. Frodo stuck a questing finger out and ran it over the head, 
making Sam groan and twitch as Frodo gave in to the slippery feel of it 
and rubbed it around the slit. Sam swayed as if he were going to topple 
over, and Frodo quickly pushed him back to finish taking off his trousers. 
Once that was done, Sam sat up and kissed Frodo soundly again.

 Sam broke off the kiss and leveled half lidded eyes at Frodo. “Do you 
want to try what the elves do?” he asked in a breathy voice. 

 Frodo smiled, briefly flashing teeth. “Yes, please.” He reached a hand to 
Sam’s chest and fingered one of the puckered nipples, making Sam 
whimper. “I want to try everything.” Sam made a little choking noise and 
Frodo leaned over, bringing his lips close to Sam’s organ. Taking it gently 
in his hand, he stroked the column with a firm grip, the way he liked it, 
and was rewarded with a hiss from his lover. Not sure if he was doing this 
right, but wanting to do it anyway, he stuck his tongue out and lapped at 
the head. The reaction was explosive. Sam arched so hard, he fell onto his 
back and writhed, shaking and moaning. 

 Frodo watched him for a moment, a satisfied smirk on his face, and then 
dove back down again. The texture of the organ fascinated him, nearly as 
much as Sam’s reaction. Frodo tried licking it on all sides, finding he got 
the most noise when he followed the ridge underneath all the way to the 
crown. He tried putting the whole thing into his throat, the way he had 
seen in the drawings, but it choked him too much, so he contented himself 
with wetly popping the head in and out between his lips. Sam moaned and 
cried by turns, his thighs shaking with tension. Wide, strong hands stroked 
Frodo’s hair and the young hobbit continually encouraged him with sweet 
words of love. Frodo eventually found an irresistible rhythm, and Sam’s 
body stiffened, the only movement his spurting organ. 

 Warm liquid spilled between Frodo’s fingers, and he grinned madly. He 
had done this to his beloved Sam, who wanted him above all others. He 
gently stroked Sam once more and then crawled up his body to minister to 
the stricken hobbit. Sam moaned softly, pleasure clearly written on his 
face, and he scooped Frodo into a sloppy kiss. This one lasted quite a 
while and need rose sharply in Frodo. Once Sam’s wits returned, he rolled 
Frodo onto his back, one arm supporting his shoulder and the other busy 
petting Frodo’s swollen member. Frodo hissed and groaned as his flesh 
was expertly stroked and fondled.

 Sam grinned wickedly at him. “Now, my dear one, you asked me how 
long I have loved you, but you never told me when I first seemed 
handsome to you. When did you?”

 Frodo mock-glared at Sam. “Wicked hobbit, to make me speak while you 
torture me so.” Sam stroked a clever finger over the head, making Frodo 
whine. “Ahhh….it was at the Fall Feast…I think. You were dancing, and 
you…ahhhhh…..picked up your partner and swung her into the air. 
Ooooh….I. I wanted it to be me. Oh, Sam…more. Yes, do not stop.”

 Sam could tell by the trembling in Frodo’s legs that his time was near. He 
leaned in again to nuzzle the other hobbit’s neck and murmur into his ear. 
“I remember. I loved it when you’d try and make me dance.” His hand 
sped up on Frodo’s cock and Frodo’s eyes shuttered closed. “I used to 
pretend it was you in my arms. My love.”

 Frodo threw his head back and groaned loudly, fingers digging cruelly 
into Sam’s arm. Sam watched delightedly as Frodo spent himself in his 
hand, whispering his love to him in a chanting song. He was, perhaps, the 
happiest hobbit in the world at that moment, or so he figured. He never 
dreamed Frodo felt as he did, and now there would be long nights of 
enjoyment for them both. 

 Sam kissed Frodo’s eyes gently, wiping his stomach with a soft cloth. It 
was he that pulled aside the covers and then bustled his love into their 
comforting depths, nestling himself beside the older hobbit, wrapping 
protective arms around him. Frodo never felt so safe before, in all his 
memory. “Thank you, Sam. I love you. I think I’ve always loved you.” 


 In the light of the morning, Frodo blinked and stretched. His leg bumped 
into something flat and solid, and he fingered it, finally identifying it as 
the book he and Sam had spirited out of Lord Elrond’s library. A smile 
crept across his face at the memory, and he peeped open an eye to look for 
his new lover. Unhappily, Sam seemed no where to be found. Sighing, 
Frodo got out of bed slowly. He was completely alone in the room, and his 
heart gave a small squeeze, wondering if Sam had changed his mind about 
his declarations of love.

 He rose quietly and dressed quickly, trying to calm the shaking of his 
fingers. He reasoned with his heart that Sam must just be on some errand, 
or was off fetching breakfast already. Splashing water on his face, Frodo 
tried to breathe slowly to calm his nerves, and stepped out into the 
hallway. Elves were walking about, greeting the morning with all the 
silent fanfare they usually did, but Sam wasn’t there. He checked Merry 
and Pippin’s room, thinking they perhaps knew where Sam was, but they 
were missing too. Nothing for it then, he headed to the dining hall.

 He had just crossed the open causeway on his way to the hall when Pippin 
came running up to him and threw his arms around him, hugging him 
tight.

 “Oh Frodo! I’m so glad for you! I always said it should be this way!”

 Frodo hugged him back, quite confused. “Er…thank you, Pip. But I 
confess, I’m not sure what…”

 Merry bounded up then, hugging Frodo with only slightly less 
enthusiasm. “You make a sweet pair, you do. Such fun the four of us will 
have now!” Frodo blinked stupidly, mouth agape, until he spied Sam as he 
strode up to the group.

 “Sam?” 

 Sam blushed slightly, but his smile was dazzling to Frodo. He leaned in 
and kissed Frodo’s cheek gently, still shy about such things. “I’m hopin’ 
you don’t mind, sir. I took the liberty of telling Mr. Merry and Mr. Pippin 
of  our…new situation, if you follow me.”

 Frodo’s eyes widened, and he lost some of his breath. “You…did?”

 Sam ducked his head like he always did when he became unsure of 
himself. “Well, I knew they most like wouldn’t be against it, seeing as 
they get up to the same sort of things we do.”

 Frodo’s eyes got impossibly wider. “They do?”

 Pippin kissed Frodo on his very startled cheek. “Aye. We’ve been each 
other’s loves now for ages. What have you been looking at all this time?” 
He turned then, and skipped on towards the kitchens.

 Merry patted Frodo on the back and trotted after Pippin. “Too busy 
watching Sam, I’ll wager.”

 Frodo stood blinking, then looked accusingly at a contrite Sam. “Why 
doesn’t anyone tell me these things?”

 FIN