Title: Stupid Rock

Author: Mistress D
Email: flanneryjane@yahoo.com
Rating: NC-17-ish
Written on: 07/01/03—10/10/03  (yes, I am incredibly lazy.)
Paring: Frodo/Sam 
Summary: Frodo’s feet hurt.  He steps on a rock.  Foot massages and 
hobbit cuddles ensue.  ~_^
Warning:  A bit PWP, hurt & comfort (well sorta! ^_^;;), first time, and 
also, this is my first fic, so please be kind!
Disclaimer: I don’t own any of these, (though owning Frodo would be 
nice...) I make no profit from this, and I’m sure that somewhere Tolkien is 
writhing around in his grave.
Archive: Sure, just ask me first.
Feedback: YESSIE!!!!  ANY feedback will be welcomed gladly!!
Author’s Note: Yes, yes, I am aware that Hobbits’ feet are as tough as 
leather, but I was bloody out of ideas!! >=O And besides, Frodo is very 
sensitive.  ^____^ Also, my wonderful beta readers are my two best 
friends, Anna and Miranda.  Thanx guys!  ^_^

                    Stupid Rock

   Frodo trudged wearily on.  It was December twenty eighth, three days 
after setting out from Rivendell.  A chill wind blew from the East, and 
many of the Fellowship felt like no garment could keep them from the icy 
torment of winter’s grasp.  Frodo shivered as he walked, and though the 
soles of his feet were tough as leather, they still became sore and red with 
cold. 

His thoughts were also bitter and the thought of the journey ahead gnawed 
at his mind.  He knew that he must do this task, but that did not mean he 
had to be happy about it.  He had volunteered, but now he thought that he 
must have been out pf his mind.  And he had mixed feelings about Merry, 
Pippin and Sam coming along.  He was extremely grateful for the comfort 
of his closest companions, but the Quest was dangerous and he didn’t 
know what he would do if any of them were hurt, or worse...  Particularly 
Sam.  Ah, Sam...  Sooner or later all his thoughts came back to Sam.  He 
could remember at least a dozen times when he had been walking by 
himself in the Shire and spied a blueberry bush and found himself thinking 
of Sam’s delicious blueberry pancakes that he so often made them for 
breakfast at Bag End.  

Suddenly a sharp pain in his foot rudely interrupted his thoughts.  He 
yelped slightly and, standing on one foot, brought the other up to his chest 
for closer inspection.  He had stepped on a very sharp rock and already a 
tiny bruise was forming on his sole.  

His yelp had caught the attention of Aragorn, who had turned around and 
was striding toward him.  

“What is the matter, Frodo?” He asked, a note of concern in his voice.  

The entire company had stopped, and now Frodo was feeling quite foolish.

“Nothing,” He said, a little too quickly.  “I just stepped on something.” He 
was blushing now.  He didn’t like all this attention at all.  It had only been 
a rock after all...  

Aragorn still looked a bit concerned, and as he straightened up, he 
addressed the whole company.  “We shall rest here for the night.  We have 
walked for many a mile and deserve the rest.”  

Frodo shuffled off a little ways from where everyone else was setting out 
tents, and began unpacking his own.  He sighed as he hammered pegs into 
the cold, hard ground.  Why did he have to go and step on that stupid 
rock?  

He heard someone shuffling up behind him and he tensed, barely daring to 
move.  He had become steadily more edgy lately, stiffening whenever he 
heard something he could not see.  It had begun to annoy Merry and 
Pippin; for he was no longer amused when they snuck up behind him to 
grab his shoulders and spin him around.  Often he heard them as they 
approached and spoiled the whole joke.  

Frodo relaxed visibly when he heard the familiar voice.  “Mr. Frodo?”  

Frodo turned to face Sam.  “You alright sir?” Sam asked.  “I’m fine Sam.”  

Frodo said, a little more forcefully than he’d meant to.  Sam looked as 
though he’d been struck across the face.  Frodo immediately felt sorry and 
said in a gentler tone, “I’m alright, thank you Sam.  I just stepped on a 
rock and it hurt a little, that’s all.”  Sam’s face instantly brightened.  

“Well, that’s easy to fix!”  He exclaimed.  “I could massage the sore foot a 
little, if you don’t mind, that is...” Sam sputtered.  Frodo grinned.  “Thank 
you Sam.  That would be lovely.”

Sam walked over and sat in front of Frodo who had perched himself on a 
flat stone.  

Frodo cleared his throat, unsure of what he was supposed to do, but 
obviously Sam had experience in this area, and showed no hesitation.  

He rolled Frodo’s pant leg up just a bit, then placed his hands on Frodo’s 
foot with his thumbs on the sole and his other four fingers resting on top, 
nestled in the fur that grew there.  He began kneading lightly with his 
thumbs, putting soft pressure on the bruise.

Frodo sighed airily.  It felt so good; he didn’t ever want it to stop.  It 
smarted just enough so that the pain complimented the pleasure.  He found 
himself thinking of how much Sam meant to him.  How much he needed 
him.  Sam made him think of home.  Of the Shire...  Of golden fields of 
wheat swaying in the summer breeze.  He couldn’t imagine life without 
him.  Sam was the only thing keeping Frodo from going utterly mad with 
fear at the thought of the perils that lay ahead.  

Suddenly he realized with much dismay that his breeches felt too tight.  
He shifted uncomfortably.  ‘No no no!  This isn’t right!’ He thought.  How 
could thinking about Sam have this effect on him?  He was his gardener!  
Frodo wanted to sink into the ground...  But then he almost cried out in 
protest when Sam stopped.  Had he seen?  Or was he just he just tired?  
Either way, Frodo didn’t want him to stop, even with the effect it was 
having on his body.

“Erm, Sam?” He said, nervously.  “My other foot hurts a little too.” Sam 
stared for a moment, then smiled and took the other foot in his hands, 
repeating the motions.

Frodo shivered with delight.  Sam was very skilled with his hands, and 
Frodo found his breath coming a little faster, his heart beating at a higher 
pace than normal, and he felt warm despite the bitter cold.  He was so 
caught up in the feeling that he just barely caught himself reaching down 
to the waistline of his breeches.  

He froze.

Sam had seen.

He had stopped massaging and was staring up at him.  Frodo couldn’t read 
his expression.  Was it one of shock?  Horror?  Repulsion?  He couldn’t 
stand it.  He stood up abruptly and ran off into the trees without a word, 
tears streaming down his cheeks.


           
  Frodo had no idea how long he’d been gone or how long he’d been 
crying.  What was he thinking?  Why had he even agreed to a foot rub in 
the first place?  Oh, what Sam must think of him now...  His erection had 
gone down long ago because he had forcefully ignored it, but his 
embarrassment was still fresh and painful like a shard of broken glass.  

Suddenly he jumped as he heard a branch crack behind him.  He whirled 
around and saw Sam coming toward him.  They both froze as their eyes 
met.  Time seemed to have no meaning.  They stayed like that for an 
eternity until Sam cleared his throat and spoke.  “Everyone’s looking for 
you Mr. Frodo.”  Frodo was unsure of what to do for a moment, but then 
he said in a voice so quiet and full of hurt that Sam could scarcely hear 
him, “Do you hate me, Sam?” Sam was slightly startled.  “No!  No, I 
could never hate you, me dear!”  Sam walked over and knelt by Frodo, 
taking one of his hands in his own.  “Whatever gave you that idea?”  He 
asked.  “Back...  Back there...” Frodo gulped.  There was an awkward 
pause.  “I guess the massage worked a little too well!” Sam said, trying to 
keep his tone light.  Frodo didn’t say anything.

Sam sighed and stood up.  “Well, you can come back to camp when 
you’re ready.” He said, and began to walk away.  Then he stopped, and 
muttered something under his breath.  “It’s not like I minded anyway...”
Frodo snapped his head up; making his brown curls bounce.  Did that 
mean...?  Did he dare to hope...?  He stood and walked over and put a hand 
on Sam’s shoulder.

“D-did you mean that?” He asked cautiously.  Sam blushed.  “Er, well...  
Yes, I suppose I did...”

Frodo was only half aware that both he and Sam were slowly leaning in.  
Then he parted his lips slightly, the distance between them was gone, and 
he stopped thinking about anything at all...

The kiss started tenderly, shyly exploring, but then they became more 
urgent, breathing raggedly and clutching at each other desperately.  Then 
suddenly Frodo found himself on the ground, Sam on top of him, their 
bodies pressed tightly together.  Frodo felt his breeches becoming 
unbearably tight.  He reached down and began fumbling with the laces.  

Sam rolled off him and started unbuttoning his vest.  Frodo and Sam each 
made short work of their clothing, then rolled over to look at each other.  
They were both shivering and their breath created puffs of steam in the 
crisp air, but they hardly noticed the cold. 

Frodo’s eyes roamed all over Sam’s naked body, drinking in every detail, 
from Sam’s tan muscular arms and chest to his beautiful sandy hair and 
strong legs.  

Frodo shyly reached out and began to tenderly stroke Sam’s cheek.  He 
could feel Sam’s cheek growing warm as he blushed.  Sam then started 
caressing Frodo’s hip, which produced a soft sigh from him.  Frodo 
trembled with pleasure.  This was much better than the foot rub...  He lay, 
basking in the sensation.  He’d never felt like this, never felt so beautiful, 
so happy, so...loved.  He leaned closer and captured Sam’s mouth in 
another honey-sweet kiss, to which Sam eagerly responded.  Frodo let out 
a soft cry into Sam’s mouth as his hand moved from his hip to his inner 
thigh.  Frodo’s hips bucked as Sam’s hand brushed his sac.  His erection 
grew, if possible, even harder and he began to rock back and forth.  

“Sam...”  He breathed.  But Sam had other ideas for his Mr. Frodo.

He removed his hand, making Frodo whimper, and devoted his attention 
to Frodo’s chest.  After a few moments of running his calloused hands 
over Frodo’s lean chest, he took one of his soft pink nipples in his mouth 
and began to suckle like a newborn babe at its mother’s breast.  Frodo 
gasped and goose bumps broke out all over his body.  He had no idea 
anything could feel this good...  Sam continued for a while, and then 
switched to the other nipple.  Frodo shivered as Sam began to kiss a trail 
of fire down his stomach.  Finally he reached his aching shaft and tenderly 
took it in his mouth.  

Frodo’s breath hitched and he moaned passionately.  Sam was encouraged 
by this and continued.  Frodo entangled his fingers in Sam’s sandy hair, 
urging him on.  “Sam, Sam, Sam!” Frodo cried, tossing his head back and 
forth.  He had never felt pleasure this intense.  His hips bucked wildly as 
Sam’s tongue flicked across the sensitive tip.  

“Sam,” He said breathlessly.  “I’m going to-“ but he was already coming 
into Sam’s mouth, who savored every drop of his beautiful master’s 
essence.

“Sam...”  Frodo gasped after the spasms that wracked his body had 
stopped.  “That was...” But he stopped.  Words were meaningless now.

He reached out and began stroking Sam’s hot arousal.  

Sam writhed and moaned, making Frodo grin devilishly and his eyes blaze 
with blue fire.  Then he leaned forward and whispered in Sam’s ear.  “I 
want to feel you inside me.”  Sam trembled as Frodo wrapped his hand 
around his length.  Even if he didn’t want to, he wouldn’t be able to say 
no.  

He reached into his pack and pulled out a vial of lavender oil that he had 
received from the Elves.  He poured some into his hands and rubbed it all 
over his fingers.         

Frodo rolled onto his stomach and Sam began slowly kneading his 
buttocks with both hands.  Frodo positively purred. Then Sam 
carefully inserted his index finger into Frodo’s opening.  Frodo gasped and 
his eyes widened.

“I’m not hurting you am I?”  Sam asked quickly.

“No, no not at all.”  Frodo panted.  

Sam then slowly eased in a second finger, then a third.  Frodo’s erection 
had returned with a vengeance and he was now rocking and whimpering.  
He wanted more...  Sam withdrew his fingers gingerly and then proceeded 
to coat his cock with oil.

Frodo wriggled in anticipation.  A fine sheen of sweat was making his 
entire body glisten, and he was finding his facedown position becoming 
increasingly uncomfortable, so he flipped over.  Sam placed his hands on 
either side of Frodo to steady himself, then he placed his tip to Frodo’s 
tight opening.  Slowly, torturously, he slid in.  

Frodo gasped at the fullness.  It was not an unpleasant feeling, but it was 
new to him.  Then as Sam went in deeper he hit a spot inside him that 
seemed to be the center of the universe.  Frodo jerked and thrust upward.  
Sam withdrew, then went in again, and continued until they’d developed a 
steady rhythm.

Then they ceased to be separate beings.  Their souls were intertwined and 
their hearts beat as one.  It was impossible to tell where one began and the 
other ended.  They came at almost the exact same moment, Sam first, 
pumping his hot seed into Frodo, and then Frodo, spilling his onto the 
freezing ground.  

They lay next to each other for a while, panting and wiping the sweat off 
their brows.

Finally Frodo turned to Sam and spoke.

“I love you, Sam.” He said truthfully.  

“And I you, Mr. Frodo” Sam replied. 

“Oh stop that silly ‘Mr.’ Frodo nonsense!”  Frodo laughed, standing up 
and brushing the dirt and leaves off himself.  In minutes they were both 
dressed again.  

“We’d best be heading back,” Sam said.  “It’s gettin’ dark and the others 
are likely worried sick, beggin’ your pardon sir.”  Frodo nodded and 
started walking back.  Luckily, even though he’d been distressed earlier, 
he’d managed to keep his wits and he knew from which direction he had 
come.



  They walked until they came to the small clearing where Frodo’s half-
made tent was laying.  They were just about to lean in for a quick kiss 
when Legolas stepped out of the bushes and sighed with relief.

“There you are!” He exclaimed.  “Aragorn!  I found them!” He called over 
his shoulder.  Moments later, Aragorn came running, followed by Gimli.  
Aragorn looked about to yell at them, but then he merely said “Neither of 
you should wander out alone.  From now on, stay close to camp.” Then 
stalked away.  Gimli shrugged and trudged off.  

“He is right,” Legolas said.  “But now it is time for sleep.  Rest well little 
ones.” He smiled, and then walked gracefully over to his own tent.
Frodo grinned and pecked Sam on the cheek.  

“Help me set up my tent?” He asked, innocently, batting his eyelashes.  

“Love to.” Sam said.



  The next morning was uneventful.  Nothing out of the ordinary, unless 
you count Pippin tripping over a stone and falling onto the tent that was 
shared by Aragorn, Gandalf and Gimli, causing Gimli to chase him around 
camp for a bit, brandishing his axe and swearing in Dwarvish.

They set out a few hours later, and as Frodo looked around, waiting for 
them to get going, he happened to see something shiny on the path behind 
him.  He paced over and stooped down to take a look.  

It was the rock that he’d stepped on yesterday!  He hadn’t noticed before, 
but it was all sparkly.  He tried to pick it up, but it was half buried in the 
dirt.  He dug it out and brushed it off.  He looked at it for a moment.  If he 
turned it this way, it looked exactly like a heart.  He pocketed it and 
dashed to catch up with the others. 

‘Maybe,’ he thought as he gazed at Sam, who smiled warmly at him.  

‘Maybe it’s not such a bad little rock after all...”



                      Fin