Title: The Same Blue Eyes
Author: Bacon
Author's Email: lil_dai@hotmail.com 
Pairing: Frodo/Sam, Gandalf/Bilbo, and Bilbo/Frodo
Rating: R 
Summary: Frodo is falling in love with a hobbit lad and doesn’t 
understand the changes that are coming over his body. He’s worried and 
then his uncle reassures him that he’s normal. There’s a flashback to 
Bilbo’s own youth with his lover and then he agrees to show Frodo a few 
things. 
Disclaimer: I have no relationship with Tolkien or his characters in any 
way other than being a devoted fan, nor am I making any money on this 
work. Please don’t sue me.  
Warning: There is masturbation and male/male sex this story.
Authors Note: This was written for a challenge off LibraryofMoria.com. 

The Same Blue Eyes
	Frodo twirled a lock of brown between two slender, pale fingers 
unconsciously. He was staring at Samwise, a younger hobbit, who was 
playing in the garden. His knees were dirty and his hands were covered in 
the filthy ground, but Frodo couldn’t keep his eyes off the boy. Sweat 
trickled down the hobbit’s brow and he paused, leaning heavily on one 
grubby hand, to wipe at his forehead with a dirt-smearing handkerchief he 
dug out of one of his trouser pockets. Frodo found himself indiscreetly 
watching the hobbit play with his toy shovel and pat piles of dirt into small 
mounds as he sat in the flowerbed. Muscles ripped like waves of an ocean, 
sunlight shining off his damp hair and bare skin. His cheeks were red and 
a smile was upon his lips as he worked the dirt, staring at his creation with 
small, dark blue eyes. 
	Snapping out of his trance, Frodo noticed his mouth was hanging 
open and he shut it immediately. His lips were wet; each breath he drew 
was heavier than the last. He rubbed his sweaty palms on his pants and 
shut the book that lay sprawled in his lap. It wouldn’t do him any good to 
read now. His eyes would not focus, nor would his mind. Nothing was 
going right. All he could think about was Samwise Gamgee and his 
beautiful, deep eyes. They were the color of the sea, and the sky and every 
emotion in a single flash of brilliant paints.
	His thoughts were consumed by the hobbit and he felt his body 
growing warm, especially his groin. He tried to think of something else, 
more familiar, but each thing led him back to Sam’s body. The beautiful, 
bare skin of his forearms and legs taunted Frodo and caused his groin to 
tighten. The hobbit blushed bright red and pressed his hands to his cheeks, 
trying to cool his face. Much to his horror he felt his cock harden and 
press against his trousers unrelentingly. 
	Frodo felt his body began to throb, but he was confused. This had 
never happened before and he didn’t know if it was natural. Was his body 
supposed to be swelling and throbbing? Perhaps he had injured himself 
how—but what had he done? Frodo couldn’t remember having done 
anything that might have injured that part of his body. Maybe he had 
caught a rare and deadly disease! He started to panic, before he 
remembered something he had heard one of the other hobbit lads talking 
about. When it gets like that, I just give it a quick yank, unless there is a 
hobbit girl around. The comment had been followed by a lot of laughter 
from the other hobbits, but Frodo had just felt like he was being left out of 
a big secret. 
	What did a hobbit girl have to do with anything? Sure, they were 
pretty and kind, but he didn’t think they were the same as his Sam. 
	His groin stared to ache and he felt as if he might explode with a 
million feelings. In his gut he felt awful, but it was exciting, feeling like 
had did. His hand found his belt bucket and unfastened it. Then, clumsily, 
he unbuttoned his pants and let them drop to the ground. Sitting alone, in 
his room, Frodo slowly laid his hand on his cock. When nothing bad 
happened he drew a finger across it in a silky, cool line. A small shiver 
shot up his spine and he encircled the member with his hand and moved it 
lightly at first. He started to feel happier, his excitement peaking as his 
hand traveled quicker with each stroke. Suddenly, in a burst of warmth, 
Frodo released into his hand, and moaned bitterly, wishing the pleasure 
would not leave.
	The door flew open at that moment and Bilbo came in, busily 
searching for his pipe he had misplaced. Frodo quickly got up and tried to 
button his pants in a quick movement, without his uncle noticing. Bilbo 
looked up at Frodo at that exactly instant and started to ask, 
	“Have you seen my pipe?” but he stopped speaking in mid-
sentence and stared at Frodo. His nephew looked anywhere, except at 
Bilbo. He stared at the floor, the ceiling, the window and the now-empty 
garden, his feet, his wet and sticky pants and back at the floor.  
	“Frodo?” he asked, eventually.
	“Yes?” The reply was shameful, and quiet.
	“Maybe I should just leave now,” said Bilbo, making no move to 
leave. Seconds later he asked, “are you sure you’re okay?”
	Frodo wondered when he had ever said he was okay. He started to 
say yes, but realized that he wasn’t sure if he really was okay. “No, not 
really,” he whispered.
	“Is there anything I can do?” 
	“Is it wrong to like a hobbit lad?” blurted out Frodo.
	His uncle looked curious and he added, “I mean, instead of a 
hobbit girl, but like a hobbit girl.”
	Bilbo smiled at his nephew, warmly. He remembered himself 
saying the same thing to Gandalf the Grey, one of the few people he 
trusted with his deepest secrets. Is it wrong to like another guy, I mean, 
how a guy is supposed to like a girl? Gandalf had turned towards him and 
looked into his wide, innocent eyes. With one hand he had reached out and 
trailed it down his check and across his lips. Holding his head firmly with 
both hands, Gandalf had bent down and kissed him in such a tender, warm 
manner that the hobbit had squeaked, half in fear and half in enjoyment. 
	Leaning close, Gandalf had whispered sweet, reassuring words to 
him while his fingers slid smoothly over their clothes. First he untied 
Bilbo’s cloak and let it fall away before focusing on the knots of his tunic. 
Bilbo stood in a small shock from his first kiss. His small hands 
automatically groped at the taller man, searching for a fastening on his 
robe in order to get it off.
	The night air blew past Bilbo’s naked body and caused a shiver to 
run across his skin. Gandalf’s touch was like icy, but he felt himself 
growing warm beneath the fingers. He felt his groin tighten and his cock 
grow hard. The hands danced across his small stomach, covered with fine 
hair. They glided along his cock, causing Bilbo to moan pitifully as he felt 
himself being caught in a tidal wave of pleasure.
	His groans were cut off as Gandalf kissed him again, letting his 
tongue slip between Bilbo’s lips. Bilbo whimpered and wrapped his hand 
around Gandalf’s neck, resting on his strong shoulders. He felt his own 
tongue react to the wizard’s and he pushed back against the intrusion, and 
around, to explore Gandalf’s mouth. 
	Suddenly his eyes shot open and he found himself staring back into 
Gandalf’s deep blue eyes. They were silver, and blue, and every color of 
the twilight sky. They reminded him of all the days they had spent 
together, and would spend together in the years to come. They must have 
watched a million sunsets together, side by side, and shared a thousand 
conversations during the day. 
	“Bilbo?” asked Frodo, hesitantly, drawing his uncle back to reality.
	“Sorry.”
	“Is it wrong?”
	“Is what wrong?”
	“Is it wrong to like a boy?”
	“Of course not,” he said, “I was like you, in my youth.”
	“Like me?”
	“Yes,” he nodded, but clarified himself, “I liked another male. We 
had a romantic affair, but the time came to put that nonsense out of our 
minds. He had to continue with his work and I, well, I had my own life to 
come home to.”
	“Did you love him?”
	Bilbo faltered, “I definitely wanted him, but I don’t know if I loved 
him. It seemed like any minute I would wake up and none of it would be 
real. I wanted an anchor to reality, and for that I traded what we had. Our 
own secret, our own desires, our own life together.”
	Frodo turned to gaze out the window, away from his uncle. 
	“Frodo?” asked Bilbo.
	“Yes?” He turned and looked at the older hobbit. His hair wasn’t 
growing white, nor was his body deteriorating like it should with age. He 
didn’t look a day over fifty, although his nephew was almost thirty, and he 
was easily eighty years older. There was an aura around the older hobbit 
that held more mysteries than he would, or even could, ever know.
	“Do you have an,” he paused, trying to select the right word, 
“experience, that is to say, any experience in this area?”
	“Um…”
	“I didn’t think so,” confessed Bilbo.
	“What am I supposed to do?” asked Frodo, his blue eyes were 
curious and fixed on Bilbo, with an accusing stare. 
	“Well I could…”
	“Yes?” he asked, baited by the hesitation.
	“I could show you a few things,” he quickly finished.
	“You would?” Frodo’s blue eyes lit up and he twisted his head to 
stare directly at Bilbo.
	“Well, I guess I could… if you wanted me to.”
	“Yes!” he cried, before added an apologetic, “I do,” and looked 
down at his feet, embarrassed.
	“No need to be shy,” Bilbo whispered to him, as he stretched out 
his hand and lifted his chin a little. He moved forward a few more steps 
and brought their lips together in a clumsy kiss. 
	“You have his same blue eyes,” he murmured into Frodo’s ear, 
before placing his lips on the boy’s and pushing his tongue into the 
hobbit’s mouth and forcing his lips to part. He ran his hand through the 
dark, curly hair and over the pale ears. They touched his face and cheeks 
and nose, down his neck and across his chest. He explored the boy’s body, 
and eventually pushed him onto the floor. 
	He trembled when Bilbo touched him lightly. His body jerked 
against the ticklish fingertips of Gandalf. He moaned and arched his back. 
Gandalf pressed him against the floor, and ran his fingers down the full 
length of Bilbo’s body. Frodo shuddered and groaned. Bilbo begged for 
more. He reached out, blindly, trying to grab onto anything to keep him 
grounded in this pleasure. He begged and pleaded, never wanting to part 
with his lover’s body. 
	“Do you want me to continue?” he asked.
	Bilbo screamed, suffering from withdrawal. 
	“Don’t ever stop.”
	Gandalf held the hobbit close, his fingers working a magic of their 
own. Frodo’s body was tense and on the edge of peaking in its excitement. 
He was burning with desire, wanting to be closer and have more contact 
than was possible. Bilbo turned Frodo and slid down onto the floor beside 
him. Gandalf closed his mouth over Bilbo’s cock and pushed his lips 
together. Frodo cried out as Bilbo flicked his tongue across the shaft and 
circled the head. Don’t stop, don’t ever stop. He bit his lip until it bled and 
came in Bilbo’s mouth with a yelp that startled his uncle. 
	“More,” came the guttural moan from Frodo. Gandalf nudged 
Bilbo and he rolled over, exposing his back to the touch of his lover. Bilbo 
fitted his body onto Frodo’s and painted a line with his tongue down his 
backbone, ending just before his opening. He slowly inserted himself into 
Bilbo and pushed. Frodo gasped as pain shot through his body. He felt 
himself growing hard. Bilbo moved smoothly in and out of Frodo, racing 
faster with each penetrating stroke. Frodo screamed loud and clenched his 
teeth, grinding them against each other as Bilbo came inside him. 
	They lay, in each others’ arms, hot and sticky for a long time 
afterward. One was a lover and the other was a young hobbit, come of age 
who had just bared his soul and taken a bright new step into the world. 
The sun was setting beyond the window and the sky was full of blue and 
silver and an oncoming darkness. 
	“Just like your eyes,” whispered Bilbo to Frodo.
	Frodo smiled gently and kissed Bilbo’s lips.
	It wasn’t until much later that Frodo remembered what his uncle 
had said to him that evening. He was sitting in the same seat, in the same 
room, at the same window. Once again he was watching Samwise play in 
garden and press piles of dirt, shaping them with his toy shovel. He looked 
at the chubby lad, smiling fondly and remembering his adventures. Maybe 
one day I’ll pass it on to him, he thought. Then it struck him.
	“He has the same blue eyes,” he said.