Title: A Night With the Lads
Author: Ruby Nye
E-mail: shmi@bantha.org
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Frodo, Sam, Merry and Pippin in various arrangements
Categories: slash, threesome, Shireromp, unabashed hobbitporn.
Archiving: yes please
Summary: Frodo spends an evening, a night, and a morning with three of his
favorite hobbitlads.
Disclaimer: Not my characters, not my world, not my money.
This is another story inspired by one of Hyel's lovely artworks, in 
this case "Sam Baiting": http://www.sentai.org/~hyel/lotr/fanart/sambaitingcolor.jpg.

 

"You should come visit, Frodo!" Pippin raised his tankard in salute to his
own idea; Sam, sandwiched between Pippin and Merry, ducked to avoid being
knocked on the head. Frodo laughed as he watched Pippin, laughed as he
only did when he was with his two best cousins, as Pippin jubilantly
continued, "you should bring Sam, too!"

"Begging your pardon, Mr. Pippin," Sam growled, "but I can't leave the Bag
End gardens so long, surely not at this time of year."  Pippin laughed at
Sam's tone, a kitten purring at a watchdog, and nudged Sam's forehead with
his as he replied, "I'm sure Frodo can release you from planting and
weeding for a handful of days."

Merry snorted. "Peregrin Took, there's no need to start working your way
through Hobbiton, you haven't done with Brandy Hall yet." Merry took a
swig of ale as Pippin pouted at him, while Sam glared past Pippin at the
silently giggling Frodo. 

"Merry, you're just jealous," Pippin retorted in indignant tones, "and I
was too little when you and Sam were tweens together." Sam went from
tomato red to beet red as he transferred his glare to Merry; Frodo's
giggles became audible. "Besides, my bed at Great Smials is big enough for
four, let alone three."

Sam's mouth fell open as he turned back to Pippin. "Mr. Pippin, what in
all the Shire?"  Pippin grinned at Sam's shocked response, waggling his
eyebrows and saying "Merry and I make a great team," as cheerfully as if
he were discussing a prank or a project. Sam's mouth fell open further,
but no sound came out; Frodo leaned forward, stifling another giggle as he
said, trying to sound disinterested, "so I'm not the only one you two
share."

Merry's eyes flickered over to Frodo's face at that;  Frodo smiled
reassuringly at him as Pippin replied, "oh no, it's a grand
trick. Whatever lass or lad one of us can't get, they can never resist the
both of us." While Pippin launched into a tale of a shy lass he and Merry
had drawn out over several days, and how well rewarded they were for doing
so, Frodo caught Sam's eye and winked reassuringly, and Sam shut his mouth
and breathed again and faded back down to a dark pink.

Pippin finished that story and launched into, "And then, Folco's cousin
Ferdie Boffin---" but Merry cut him off with "Pippin, don't tell all our
secrets," as he reached behind Sam to ruffle Pippin's curls; Pippin smiled
unapologetically and tilted his head to kiss the heel of Merry's
hand. Frodo drained his tankard, cleared his throat, and said, "you've
shocked Sam into silence, Pip; I think we've all had enough ale for one
night."

"I ain't shocked," Sam insisted stoutly as he got up from the bench,
though he was still flushed. "Just a bit surprised with you two, Mr. Merry
and Mr. Pippin. Begging your pardon, but you're rather wild."

Merry merely grinned. "I'm twenty-seven," Pippin said loftily, "And I'm
not wild, I'm _lively_." With that he swooped forward and kissed Sam, full
on the mouth, then spun away and danced ahead of the other three; Sam
turned beet red again, and Merry and Frodo looked at each other and
laughed.





"Ho! Ho! Ho! To the bottle I go!" Merry and Pippin danced through the
spring night on their way back up to Bag End, arms slung round each
other's shoulders as they sang. Sam had tried to walk behind, but Frodo
caught his arm, and they walked together under the flowering trees,
occasionally catching  a nightjar's song or crickets chirping when Merry
and Pippin paused for breath or to kiss.

"How are you, Sam?" Frodo asked softly, without preamble. Sam understood,
and smiled. "I'm fine, Mr. Frodo."

"That was quite a blush before." Frodo lightly stroked Sam's cheek, now a
normal shade of golden pink. "Pippin didn't push too hard?"

"Mr. Pippin? No, I know him, he's always been so." Frodo returned Sam's
smile. "I just, well, he is handsome, for a thin little tween." Frodo's
smile bloomed into a grin, Sam's cheek heating again beneath his hand. "If
he weren't the Thain's heir, and I weren't your gardener lad..." Frodo
rolled his eyes, even as he smiled to hear Sam say 'your'; he nodded
encouragingly, and Sam went on, eyes on their feet. "Still, I wonder but
that he wants what Mr. Merry had, is all."

"I think Pippin wants you, Sam. I can see why any hobbit would." Sam
smiled, looking up at Frodo from beneath his lashes, and Frodo reminded
himself that he shouldn't exactly kiss Sam in the middle of the road. "I
don't think Pippin's merely keeping score with Merry."

"Even so, it is just a tumble he wants. I like it to mean more," Sam said,
head coming up, brown eyes bottomless in the dim light and turned entirely
on Frodo;  Frodo discarded _shouldn't_'s and leaned forward to kiss Sam
for a long warm moment, before Sam's broad hand on his shoulder gently
pushed him back. "We're in the road, Mr. Frodo," Sam reminded him, "and
we're nearly to Bag End." 

"Oh, I suppose," Frodo replied, running his finger over Sam's bottom lip,
before he broke away to catch up with his cousins, who pulled him in
between them, and they climbed up together to open the front door.






The moment his last bite of seedcake vanished between his lips Pippin
gazed expectantly at Merry; Merry responded by making a small production
of discarding the core of his apple and licking his fingers carefully, and
Frodo looked over his teacup's rim from Merry's finger-sucking to Pippn's
breathless impatience and back again, not daring to actually drink lest
the laugh he was restraining escape messily into the tea. Then his eyes
found Sam's, warm and amused, and he put his teacup down to smile.

Merry finally finished and looked at Pippin, who exhaled noisily, and then
Merry and Pippin were attacking Frodo in unison, hauling him up out of his
chair. "All that talk of our Brandy Hall adventures reminded me," Pippin
breathed into Frodo's ear as Frodo laughed into Merry's apple-flavored
kiss, one arm around each cousin's shoulders as they pulled him to his
feet. 

Merry broke the kiss to lean his cheek against Frodo's, winding his arms
round Frodo's waist. "Mind if we borrow your Mr. Frodo for the
night?" Merry called to Sam, who gave them a sort of complicated smile and
shook his head acquiescently; Merry started to turn back to Frodo, but
paused when Pippin turned outward, leaving one arm round Frodo's shoulders
but extending the other hand to Sam as he asked, "Come with us?"

Sam gave that a rather different sort of smile. "Begging your pardon,
Mr. Pippin, but that's too rich for my blood. Thank you kindly,
though." Sam crossed to them and leaned forward, hands at his sides, to
kiss Frodo; then he looked over at Merry, who looked at him, and they
leaned towards each other at the same moment. Pippin gasped; tearing his
eyes from the two fair heads together, Frodo turned to see Pippin watching
with parted lips and shining eyes.

When Sam leaned back Frodo looked at him, glowing rosy-golden with a small
smile on his lips, and then at Merry, happily dazed. Warmth curling in his
stomach, Frodo thought _This is going to be a good night_; then Pippin
chirped, though his eyes were still shining, "don't I get a kiss too?"

Sam sighed, and smiled, and leaned towards Pippin, who pushed his free
hand up into Sam's curls to hold him; Sam made a choked sort of sound,
turning red, his hands fisting and blooming, and Merry nudged Frodo as
they watched the muscles of Pippin's jaw work lazily for a long
moment. When he finally released a breathless Sam, Pippin's smile was
positively wicked; he tucked the hand just returned from Sam's curls
around Frodo's waist and purred, "we'll take good care of him, Sam," and
with that he and Merry tugged Frodo off down the hall.





"Pippin Took, you're a naughty creature," Frodo murmured into the ear he
was licking, as Pippin undid his buttons with nimble fingers. Pippin
laughed, eyes half-lidded, smoothing Frodo's shirt off his shoulders
without looking. "You tease Sam something fierce."

"It's not teasing if you mean it," Pippin retorted, fingers moving
lower. Merry snorted from the bed, where he lounged, already out of his
clothes. "You're a flighty creature, Pip. Sam is solid."

"Yes, he is," Pippin replied, "and golden, and strong, and those
shoulders! You lucky hobbit, Frodo." When Frodo laughed at that Pippin
took advantage of his open mouth to kiss him, pressing him towards the
bed; Frodo obediently walked backwards until he fell into the soft
bed.  "And you too, Merry," Pippin went on irrepressibly, as Merry helped
Frodo wiggle backwards. "I was so envious of you when I was little and you
were a tween."

"You seem to be catching up, if not past and ahead," Merry observed,
before leaning down to kiss Frodo himself as Pippin quickly shucked his
clothes and climbed in with them; Frodo gently pushed Merry away to turn
and address Pippin sternly, at least as sternly as he could from flat on
his back. "Sam is serious about such things," he told his green-eyed
cousin, kneeling beside him. "And I am serious about Sam, and I won't have
you upsetting him."

"All right, Frodo," Pippin said lightly, stretching out. "But he is good
to look at, and a good sturdy warm-hearted hobbit, and he takes good care
of you, and I like him."

"You like everyone," Merry replied, reaching across Frodo to pull Pippin
closer; Pippin shook his head, and gave Merry one of those green gazes
that seemed to come from a different Pippin entirely. "No, Merry, I love
Frodo, and I love you," Pippin said seriously, and leaned across Frodo to
kiss a rather gobsmacked Merry. An arm around each pair of shoulders
again, Frodo watched them kiss, Pippin sharp-nosed and tween-thin with
fine beautiful bones, Merry growing into a handsome adult sturdiness, and
thought of how when they had to leave Sam would still be here in the Bag
End garden and the bright kitchen and his bed and his heart, and wondered
at his great good fortune in his life. Then his cousins broke their kiss
and turned their attention to him, and soon Frodo wasn't thinking anything
at all except _yes, more, more_. 





A few minutes later Merry, loosely wrapped in an unbelted robe of Frodo's,
came back out to the kitchen, where he discovered Sam finishing the
washing-up. "Hullo, Sam!" he said cheerfully, smiling at Sam's startled
look. "As long as I have you here----" and Merry dropped his voice, coming
near to Sam, "---do you have anything to report?"

"Nothing new, Mr. Merry," Sam whispered, blushing again. Merry regarded
him with a critical grey eye, then stepped closer, pinning Sam against the
wall by the washtub. "You're certain, Sam?"

"Mr. Merry...." Sam looked down, discovered how dangerous Merry's undone
robe made that, blushed harder, and shut his eyes. "You know this don't
sit right, spying on Mr. Frodo for you."

From when they'd met as small lads Merry had always loved making Sam
blush, and since they'd grown old enough for tween games he found it quite
stirring. "And you know I asked because we love him and mean to help him,
to help you help him." Merry watched Sam's golden lashes tremble on red
cheeks, and thought that Pippin had the right of it. "We need your help,
Sam." 

Sam looked up at that last statement, shy and strong, and Merry remembered
how nice it had been to kiss him when they were tweens together. "Pippin's
right," he said slyly, "you should join us, you still could." The shade of
red that evoked was quite mouthwatering, even as Sam laughed. "Get along
with you now, Mr. Merry," Sam said with amused firmness, pushing Merry
away gently with one broad hand. "You're awful wicked."

"I know," Merry said cheerfully as he turned to fetch a mug; a moment's
rummaging in the pantry and he had it half full with walnut oil, while Sam
put his cloak on again. "Goodnight, Sam!" Merry called, and when Sam
turned round he winked; Sam shook his head and smiled, and Merry grinned
and went back down the hall.






When Merry returned to Frodo's bedroom Pippin was on top, limbs wound
around Frodo as he kissed him deeply, all the while pressing down with his
hips, slowly and rhythmically, so that Frodo trembled and moaned with each
thrust. Merry leaned against the doorframe for a moment, watching Pippin
and Frodo together, Pippin's chestnut curls spilling into Frodo's dark
hair, his limbs freckled against Frodo's smooth pale skin. One of Pippin's
green eyes opened and rotated to find Merry, though he kissed Frodo all
the while; Merry grinned and came over, setting the cup on the nightstand,
and Pippin winked that eye at him and closed it again as he began kissing
his way down Frodo's neck, clever fingers dancing and pinching gently down
Frodo's body. Frodo clutched him and arched and murmured something too
soft to be understood, shivering with pleasure. Pippin freed a hand to
hold it out to Merry, and Merry shrugged out of the robe and took Pippin's
hand, climbing into the bed to wind himself around them both and suck on
one of Frodo's eartips. 

Frodo managed a breathless chuckle, eyes still closed. "Hullo, Merry. I'm
glad you could join us." The last word was nearly lost in a hissing gasp
as Pippin worried at one of Frodo's nipples with sharp teeth; Merry leaned
over Frodo, pausing for a moment to look at his fair, flushed cousin
before he kissed him. "It looked like Pippin had you well in hand," Merry
whispered as he kissed his way along Frodo's jaw, his hands sinking into
Frodo's and Pippin's hair, "but I didn't want to miss out."

Frodo turned another gasp into another breathless laugh. "Careful, Merry,
he'll get a swelled--!" Pippin quelled Frodo's comment by slipping swiftly
from Merry's grasp to plunge his mouth down onto Frodo; then, at the
answering cry, Pippin raised his head to smirk as he said, "Looks like
you've already got a swelled head." 

"Pippin---" Frodo tried to sound commanding, but Merry sank his teeth
slowly into Frodo's neck, and the word emerged between an entreaty and a
wail. Merry would have smirked if he could; it took both of them to drive
their normally bossy cousin to distraction, but they could do it, he and
Pip. Pippin's green eyes caught Merry's, echoing the thought triumphantly,
before he took pity on Frodo and bent to his task again, as Merry stroked
his hand over the nipples Pippin had nibbled, and Frodo arched beneath
their combined onslaught, moaning something liquid and unintelligible.

Frodo looked delicious as he writhed and moaned, and Merry leaned down to
kiss him, but kept his eyes open; it was quite something, to kiss Frodo,
to feel that witty mouth gone sweetly yielding and wet-hot beneath his,
while watching Pippin, head bobbing, cheeks hollowed, rosebud lips pink
around blood-flushed hardness. Merry enjoyed watching his Pippin do this,
not least because he could never manage to keep his eyes open when Pippin
sucked him; he remembered, and trembled at the memory, the feeling of
Pippin's lips and tongue wrapped hot around him, and when Pippin made a
wet humming sound and Frodo bucked and wailed Merry smiled against Frodo's
cheek, knowing just what Frodo felt beneath Pippin's clever mouth and
fingers. Then, wanting to hear that wail again, Merry nuzzled Frodo's jaw
up, pressing his mouth to the side of his throat to deliver a slow bite
that made Frodo thrash and scream most obligingly; Pippin made a
surpriised 'mmmph!', and Merry giggled against Frodo's neck as he licked
the bite, before kissing his way up the long smooth neck to whisper in
Frodo's ear, "So, which of us do you want first?"

Merry quite enjoyed how long it took Frodo to reply, opening his mouth
twice before he managed to gasp, "Pippin, before he sucks my wits
out." Pippin's chuckle was muffled but quite audible; Merry snickered as
he reached out a hand to help Pippin sit up. Frodo sighed and slumped
against the bed when Pippin released him, disappointment and anticipation
chasing each other across his flushed face, and Merry leaned down to kiss
him again. "You're beautiful, you know," he whispered, feeling an odd
surge of tenderness.

Frodo squeezed Merry's hand, even as he rolled his half-lidded eyes. "I'm
a skinny old hobbit," he retorted, and Merry grinned and kissed him again.

"Merry, it's my turn!" Pippin was back across the bed, the cup of oil in
his hand; he lunged towards Merry, and the oil sloshed
dangerously. "Pippin, mind that," Merry admonished even as he wrapped one
arm round Pippin. "If you spill it we'll make you sleep on the stain."

"And wash the sheets," Frodo added as he leaned up on his elbows; Pippin
smirked and leaned down to kiss him for reply, holding the mug high and
even, then straightened to kiss Merry, who somehow managed enough presence
of mind with Pippin's tongue in his mouth to get both hands round the
cup. "Get up, Frodo," Pippin insisted, tugging on his cousin's
shoulders. "I want you over me."

"Bossy, aren't you?" Frodo observed as he got to his knees; Merry laughed,
fingers of one hand in the oil, and said,"yes, and he learned it from
you," delighting in the identical looks of outrage they turned to
him. "And it suits you both," he whispered over Pippin's mouth just before
kissing him, as he wrapped the oily hand around Frodo, who fell warm
against his shoulder with a wonderful gasp. "There. Now get to it,
cousins, I want my turn."

Pippin obediently flopped onto his back, folding himself up in a way that
made the stouter Merry wince slightly. Should hobbits' knees really fit by
their shoulders? But then Merry had seen Frodo fold up like that a time or
two; perhaps it was just a trick of being slender. Merry rested on one
elbow beside them, holding the cup steady, as Frodo dunked his hand in it
and Pippin objected, "Didn't you hear Merry? I'm ready, come here."

"Don't be impatient." Frodo smacked Pippin on the rump. "And hold
still." The smack became a caress, up and around and carefully sinking
in; Pippin hissed and closed his eyes, his hands and ankles both on
Frodo's shoulders. "How can I when you're---oh! Just---there! Yes!" Two
fingers now, and Pippin was already arching his back, as Frodo bit his lip
in concentration. "Frodo, please!"

That particular tone in Pippin's voice was always hard to
resist. Trembling just a little, Frodo glanced over at Merry, who nodded
and grinned reassuringly. "Pippin," Frodo breathed, trying to go slowly,
but Pippin reached for his waist and tugged, and cried out as Frodo all
but fell forward. "Yes, pound me, yes," Pippin moaned, "right through the
bed." Frodo shook his head, pushing back, and when he thrust forward
Pippin bucked and screamed.

Well, how might any hobbit resist that? Merry knew he'd never been able
to. Frodo certainly couldn't either, as he murmured something under his
breath and found a rhythm, as Pippin locked his ankles behind Frodo's neck
and clutched his waist and bucked back against him, moaning in time. What
a sight they were, Merry thought, resting on his elbow and watching his
two handsomest lads in all the Shire; even if they were both so thin
they'd hardly make a sturdy hobbit between them, they were both beautiful
in it, the candlelight playing over the sharpnesses and shadows of
Pippin's body as he arched  and panted, sparkling off the sheen of Frodo's
flushed velvet skin. Merry wrapped his free hand lightly round Pippin,
letting their motion do the rest of the work, and it hardly took a
half-dozen strokes before Pip shook his curls back and forth and gasped
and wailed and peaked. Feeling him, Frodo trembled all the harder, his
murmurs shading up into a cry of his own as Pippin bit his lip and
returned the thrusts more strongly, and Frodo slumped onto him, burying
his face in chestnut curls and shaking as if he'd come apart, as if he
were being put back together.

Merry had barely retrieved his hand when Frodo peaked; now he reached down
to put the cup on the floor, then stroked Frodo's back and Pippin's brow
till their heaving breaths faded to normal and Pippin could open sparkling
green eyes and grin. "Whee," Pippin observed.

"Mmmph," Frodo replied, pushing himself up on his elbows with an
effort. "You took it out of me, you demanding Took. I don't know if
there's any left for Merry."

"I have faith in you," Merry replied, leaning over to kiss Frodo's throat
where it met his shoulder. Frodo gasped and shuddered, and Pippin giggled,
pushing Frodo into Merry's arms. "Get on with you two, then," Pippin said
brightly. "Where's the towel?" Merry tossed it vaguely in Pippin's
direction as Frodo wriggled around in his arms to kiss him; they both
giggled when Pippin's cloth-wrapped hand pushed between them, before
Pippin stretched himself out at their side. Merry glanced sideways to see
Pippin lying with his head propped on his hand, watching them and smiling,
just before Frodo nipped at his lip and claimed all his attention
again; Frodo kissed Merry firmly, one hand in his hair to hold him, one
hand sliding down Merry's side and over his hip to wrap round
him. "So," he whispered across Merry's lips, "how do you want this?"

Merry blinked, Frodo's bright blue gaze only slowly coming into focus, the
blood roaring in his ears. Watching Pippin and Frodo together had roused
even more than he'd expected, and the way Frodo was twisting his hand now
made it delightfully difficult to think. "I don't, I don't think I can
choose."

"Make it so I can watch him," Pippin put in; Frodo nodded, a glint in his
eye, and leaned over to kiss Pippin as he said, "I think I know just what
to do."

"I think I'm in trouble," Merry retorted; Frodo grinned for reply, and
leaned down again, but instead of kissing Merry he bit him on his
shoulder, and Merry bucked beneath him, gasping. Frodo unwound his fingers
from Merry's hair, drawing them down across the back of his neck and up
over his chest, as he started biting his way down across Merry's body,
licking at each one, soothing it with his fingers as he laid the
next; Merry twisted one of his hands into the coverlet as he closed his
eyes and let the sweet pain pulse through him, and Pippin held the other.

Frodo laid a final bite to Merry's hip and kissed his way across. "Can you
see?" Merry heard Frodo ask Pippin, somewhere far beyond what Frodo's
clever hand was currently doing wrapped round him. "Oh, yes," Pippin
chirped. "You look quite handsome, Merry. I think you should go to the
next ball dressed only in cousins."

"Pip---" was all Merry managed before Pippin leaned over to kiss him,
smiling against his mouth when  Frodo replaced fingers with lips and Merry
couldn't contain a moan. Pippin pulled Merry's hand up to his hair and let
it twine into the curls; with his free hands he pulled the cup off the
floor and passed it to Frodo, all the while never breaking the kiss, and
Merry might have chuckled at Pippin's showy skill if he could have done
anything but tremble and feel and moan. Then a warm wet hand cradled his
eggs and an oiled finger slid within him, and Merry cried out.

"Mmm, yes, you look wonderful," Pippin breathed, pulling back just a
little. "And so do you, Frodo," he added, earning himself a muffled
chuckle that Merry felt, warm rousing vibration, more than heard. Frodo
added another finger, pushing harder, sucking harder, and Merry felt his
spine arch as pleasure crackled up it, felt his heels dig into the bed,
felt Pippin's curls between his fingers as Pippin laid his head on Merry's
shoulder, stroking his chest with the other hand.

Push and push and _there_ and again and Merry distantly heard himself
groan as lightning burst across the inside of his eyelids and all his wit
seemingly was pulled out of him by Frodo's lips and tongue and
fingers. Far away indeed he felt kisses falling lightly on his heaving
chest; when he sank back into himself Frodo and Pippin were wound one
round each of his sides, holding each other's hands over his heart. Merry
sighed, disentangling his fingers from sheets and curls to bring one up
around each of them, and, eyes already closed, sank down into sleep.






Frodo woke to find the bed shaking as if to the drumbeat thudding between
his ears. He rolled over to find Merry and Pippin already awake and most
certainly not out of bed; Pippin was on top, one of Merry's legs round his
waist and Merry's hands wound in his hair, and one of Pippin's hands was
out of sight between their bodies. 

Well, there were far worse sights of a morning. Frodo rubbed his eyes and
sat up, and Pippin opened one eye to look up at him, looking about as
pleased as he could without being able to smile. Merry was a bit further
gone, moaning low in his throat, his eyes moving beneath closed
lids; Frodo leaned over to drop a kiss to Merry's brow and Pippin's cheek,
and slid out of the bed, leaving them to it.  As he wandered out of his
bedroom Frodo picked up a robe and the cup of oil; he dumped the cup out
in the privy before bringing it to the kitchen, which he found bright with
sunshine, smelling delightfully of fresh bread and roasting apples, and
inhabited by Sam, who smiled welcomingly and handed Frodo a mug of tea.

The pounding in Frodo's head seemed to dissolve in the strong, honeyed
tea; by the time he finished it he felt capable of saying, "Good morning,
Sam!" like an actual hobbit. "Good morning, Mr. Frodo," Sam replied as he
took both mugs from Frodo's hands to place in the washtub, then took
Frodo's hand in his own and kissed the palm. "I missed waking you, but
I've drawn you a bath."

"Oh, bless you, Sam. Come join me?" Frodo nearly laughed at the raised
eyebrow that was Sam's reply. "Begging your pardon, Mr. Frodo, but you
look a mite underslept."

Now Frodo did laugh. "Your mouth says I look underslept, Sam, but your
eyes say that I've been up half the night cavorting and I smell of
walnuts, silly gentlehobbit that I am." Sam's eyes went round, and he
opened his mouth to reply; Frodo stopped his words with a kiss composed
rather more of tongue than lip, and Sam moaned, half-protestingly, though
his arm went round Frodo's waist and he returned the kiss before
reclaiming his mouth. "You, me dear, are the wickedest of hobbits," Sam
scolded, eyes twinkling. "Naughtier than Mr. Pippin, even. Who will, most
likely, be up soon with Mr. Merry, and wanting breakfast."

"Oh, they're awake," Frodo replied, tugging Sam along. "But they're not
going to be _out of bed_ for a good while." Sam laughed at Frodo's
illustrative eyebrow-waggle, pulling him closer against his side. "I
suppose I shall come with you, then, Mr. Frodo. Someone should make sure
you don't drown yourself." Frodo laughed, and leaned into Sam's warmth,
and thought himself the most fortunate hobbit alive.