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hobbit_holidaysI know many of you go away for the Yuletide break, so I'm posting this up well in advance. In fact I wrote this about a year ago, but it's being recycled for those who may not have seen it (for environmentally friendly reasons and all that!) ;-)
Here's wishing all of you a Merry Yule and a very Happy New Year! :-D
~Lyra
Author: lyrastar77
Title: Footprints In The Snow
Rating: Hmmm ... somewhere between PG-13 and R (are there any sexperts out there who can advise me??)
Pairing: Frodo/Sam
Warnings: Implied slash. Some very mild angst. Contains alcohol! ;-)
Summary: It's the night before Yule, and Sam wonders if his dreams about being with Mr Frodo could ever come true ...
Author's Notes: Before writing this I was a Frodo/Sam first-time virgin, so I thought it was time to do something about it! ;-)
Disclaimer: Sadly, the hobbits do not belong to me and I make no money from writing about them, though I promise to return them unharmed!
Footprints In the Snow
I'll never forget that night, not for as long as I live. The night when everythin' changed an' nothin' would ever be the same again in my little world.
It was the night afore Yule, an' it was gettin' quite late. Me an' Mr Frodo an' Mr Bilbo, we were sittin' round the fire in the kitchen at Bag End. The logs were cracklin' an' sputterin' in the grate an' I was tryin', without makin' it too obvious, to watch the glow from the firelight dancin' on that beautiful creamy-pale skin o' Mr Frodo's.
If I close my eyes it's like I can still smell them special Yule aromas even now, all mingled together ... spices from some bakin' what Mr Frodo had been doin', along with pine an' fruit, an' brandy too o' course. Heady stuff, it was. But nothin' like as heady as what I was feelin' deep inside.
"Sha ... Sam," Mr Bilbo confided to me, leanin' across to face me, "this is the besht brandy punch I ever tashted!" With a big happy smile he raised his glass, a bit shaky like, then he tipped his head back an' drained the lot in one go.
All of a sudden Mr Frodo looked right at me, his eyes sparklin' with silent laughter as he flashed me that stunnin' smile of his. He couldn't never have imagined how that smile always just completely melted me inside. It knocked me sideways so that I couldn't even smile back -– leastways, not straight off. Mr Frodo glanced over at Mr Bilbo then back at me again, eyebrows raised an' his mouth quirkin', as if to signal he thought Mr Bilbo had already taken quite enough punch on board for tonight, an' I got myself composed enough to grin right back at him in agreement.
"You must give us the reshipe for thish!" Mr Bilbo carried on, starin' at his empty glass, his words all slurry. Mr Bilbo didn't get this way too often but then that punch was pretty strong stuff, mind. "But Shamwise, sh ... shouldn't you really be with your family thish evening?"
"Well Mr Bilbo, my sisters were busy bakin' an' decorating the smial an' all," I explained, "an' they told me I was gettin' under their feet so I'd be better off out o' their way!"
"Anyway, Uncle Bilbo, Sam and I have been so busy running around to get all the last-minute things we need, and cleaning and cooking and washing up, and making the punch too, that we're a little behind with finishing off our Yule decorations here! And I'm going to need just a little more assistance from Sam tonight," Mr Frodo told him.
"Well you two can finish off the decorationsh then," said Mr Bilbo with some effort, risin' unsteadily to his feet. "But if you'll excushe me, it'sh high time I went off to my bed! And you, Sham," he said, turnin' to me with a knowin' kind o' wink, "you're mosht welcome here any time, you know that don't you? Punch or no punch! Goodnight to you!"
"Thank you, Mr Bilbo! G'night, sir," I replied, glad of his reassurin' words.
Mr Frodo jumped up, took Mr Bilbo's glass out of his hand an' held on to his arm, tryin' to keep him steady. "I won't be long, Sam. I'm just going to see Uncle Bilbo to his room." He looked at me again, eyes dancin', a smile playin' around his lips, as he slowly guided Mr Bilbo out into the hallway.
Oh, them eyes -– clear as the blue summer sky they were. An' them lips too. I could hardly tear my own eyes away from 'em most o' the time, so enticin' they seemed to me. I used to wonder what it would be like just to slowly run my finger along them perfect curves. An' I'd spent many a long, sleepless night, too, wonderin' how it might feel to put my mouth right over his an' taste that soft sweetness. Gently at first, an' then a bit more passionate like, so's I could show him exactly how I felt about him.
I shivered a bit then, an' wrapped my arms around myself. Not that the fire had died down or nothin' –- it was still blazin' away –- but somehow when Mr Frodo left the room it was like all the warmth an' light had gone with him. I looked around the kitchen an' saw the candles still flickerin', an' the firelight reflectin' off the copper pans hangin' from the beams. So everythin' still looked the same, but it didn't feel the same.
The only thing what felt the same was the way I'd always felt about Mr Frodo. Well, since I'd really started growin' up, leastways. I'd been aware he was someone very special, like, right from the outset. But this last year or so I'd come to realise, bit by bit, that Mr Frodo meant as much to me as life itself. Maybe even more'n that. All's I knew was I wanted to be with him more'n anythin' else in the world. An' not just as his gardener or his friend, neither.
I glanced around the kitchen again an' looked out of the window through them delicate, white lacy patterns the frost had etched on the glass. The snowfall had finished a couple of hours back, an' the inky-black skies were now clear again. I knew the moon was up there somewhere, an' I could see the Evenstar too, plain as anythin', big an' bright an' seemin' to wink at me at regular intervals, as if it were tryin' to tell me somethin'. I stared at it for a while, entranced.
I couldn't be sure quite what ol' Mr Bilbo had meant when he'd winked at me afore leavin' the room, sayin' I was most welcome there any time. Not that that wasn't a good thing to hear, mind. Perhaps he just hadn't figured out yet what was goin' on inside o' me. The way he almost certainly must've seen me lookin' at Frodo sometimes, despite my efforts to hide it –- wouldn't that have given me away? Didn't he maybe suspect somethin' there? But then, if so, why was he bein' all warm an' welcomin' like he was?
Surely, if he did suspect anythin', he would be keen to keep me an' Mr Frodo apart as much as he could, wouldn't he? I mean, there was Mr Frodo livin' in his world o' fine wines an' fancy clothes, an' there was me, livin' in my very different world o' plants an' wheelbarrows. It could never happen, could it? I'd convinced myself I could never have him. I might as well wish for the moon. I reached for my glass again an' took a few more gulps o' that brandy punch.
I sighed to myself a little, resigned to things never changin'. I honestly didn't know whether Mr Frodo had been gone for five minutes or fifty -– it just seemed far too long to me, that was all I knew. What remained o' the evenin' would fly by quick, an' soon enough there I'd be, makin' my way back through the snow to Bagshot Row to spend another restless night all alone in my empty bed.
I was certain Mr Frodo could never o' guessed about all them nights I'd lain there by myself, tossin' an' turnin' all feverish like, an' wishing it'd been him I was holdin' in my arms instead o' that big ol' feather pillow. An' what about them dreams I'd had, too, where I'd woken up in the middle o' the night, sheets all in a mess, still full o' longin' for him? Even then I coloured up a bit just thinkin' about it.
An' Mr Frodo himself -– did he suspect anythin' about my feelings for him? Bein' honest, I couldn't be too sure. I couldn't be certain, neither, if there was the faintest chance he might feel somethin' for me in return -– anythin' at all along the lines o' what I felt for him. Though it was pretty doubtful. Of course I desperately wanted it to be true, so I thought maybe I'd just imagined things sometimes, like the way he'd look at me now an' again.
For a start, there'd been that day last summer when it'd been so hot that even the birds had stopped singin' in the treetops. Hard to imagine that now, with this freezin' weather. But I'd been diggin' away in the garden as usual an' I'd started sweatin', so I took off my shirt. After a while I'd stuck the spade in the soil an' turned around, only to spy Mr Frodo watchin' me from his bedroom window. I hadn't even known he was there, but I'd waved an' he'd smiled at me a bit shy like an' called out, "Afternoon, Sam!" He'd even coloured up a bit, too, like he was embarrassed I'd caught him lookin' at me that way.
An' one time I'd gone into his study quite late in the evenin', to see if he still needed anythin' -– I'm not sure as he knew I was still there at Bag End. He was busy scribblin' away at somethin', all engrossed like, an' when he realised I was standin' there at his elbow he got a mite flustered an' quickly tried to cover up whatever it was he'd been workin' on. Not that I was tryin' to pry or nothin', I wouldn't do that to Mr Frodo. But I was lucky that Mr Bilbo had learned me my letters, an' I can't be sure but I think I caught sight o' the word 'Sam' in there somewhere. Though why he'd be writin' anythin' secret about me, I couldn't imagine.
Oh, an' there was that other occasion too when me an' Mr Frodo had been takin' our second breakfast right there in the kitchen one mornin', an' our talk had turned to lads an' lasses an' relationships, folks gettin' wed an' what have you. Mr Frodo never talked much about that kind o' thing, it didn't seem to be one of his favourite topics, like. But I'd glanced up from my plate to find him lookin' at me all strange like, with this dreamy, faraway look in his eyes. Though like I said, all o' this could've just been my imagination workin' overtime.
"Sam! You seemed quite far away just now, gazing into the flames!" I was a bit startled out o' my thoughts then, as I hadn't even realised Mr Frodo had come back into the kitchen. Before I could stop myself I'd given him this big soppy grin, so glad was I to see the kitchen suddenly all flooded with light an' colour an' warmth again. I wondered if he'd somehow guessed I'd been thinkin' so hard about him when he'd found me still there in front of the fire, lost in my own daydreams.
"Mr Frodo! How's Mr Bilbo now?" I asked him.
Mr Frodo laughed softly. "Uncle Bilbo's out for the count, Sam. He's already snoring away like nobody's business!" he told me. "But I wouldn't be too surprised if he has a bit of a sore head tomorrow morning! Oh and Sam, before I sit down by the fire again, wouldn't this be a good time to go out into the garden to get the mistletoe and cut some sprigs of holly?" he suggested. "It's getting rather late now."
"Good idea!" I said as I stood up an' went to fetch our warm coats. Wherever I was goin' to go, an' whatever I was goin' to do, so long as I was with Mr Frodo it was fine by me. Mr Frodo had picked up his own glass of brandy punch again an' he took a good few generous sips of it.
"Mmm, it's so cold out there, I'm going to need a little something to keep me warm! You know, Uncle Bilbo was right, Sam," he smiled. "This tastes excellent! Though it's quite powerful too, I think. And it's true to say I'm probably a little tipsy myself right now!" An' there was that broad grin of his again, knockin' me for six.
I held the door open for him as we stepped out into the chilly night air. "I doubt we'll need a lantern -– we should be able to see quite well in the moonlight. Sam, aren't you going to wear gloves like me?" I shook my head no. He brushed past me, right up close, an' my heart skipped a beat just like it always did when he was that near. So near but yet so far away, it always seemed to me. I could smell the punch on his breath, warm an' spicy.
I wasn't sure if I was a bit tipsy myself or not -– those kind o' feelings tended to get mixed up with all that light-headedness whenever he was around an' got that close to me. But I was punch-drunk, I knew that. Not from that stuff what I'd mixed together in that old crystal glass bowl o' Mr Bilbo's –- oh no. I was punch-drunk from this burnin' love I felt for Mr Frodo, an' there was no way o' hidin' it. Not from myself, leastways.
When we walked out together into the chilly night air, that was when it really started. I mean, the feelin' that tonight was special somehow an' we'd stepped out into a different world. I looked around me, full o' wonder. The snow, coverin' everythin' with a crisp white blanket what sparkled in the moonlight, had transformed our familiar garden into this strange an' magical landscape. I took a deep breath an' sucked the frosty air deep down into my lungs.
It was like a big hush had settled over everythin'. Almost as if the whole world was holdin' its breath, just waitin' for somethin' to happen. I couldn't hear nothin' except the soft whisper of our footfalls as we made our way towards the back o' the garden. Mr Frodo was lookin' up at the sky, an' I looked up too. "Isn't it all so beautiful, Sam?" he whispered, almost reverently. I nodded again -– for some reason it seemed difficult for me to find my voice tonight. There was the moon ridin' high up above us, all calm an' serene, castin' deep shadows under the trees. An' all the stars too, sharp points o' light glitterin' in that vast velvety blackness.
Both of us were shiverin' a little, our shoulders almost touchin' most o' the time, as we made our way silently across the garden. I stopped an' turned around at one point to look back behind us, an' I could clearly see the footprints we'd made in that virgin snow. Our tracks were mainly close together, sometimes separatin' a little, an' sometimes almost overlappin' too. An' that's how it seemed to me, the way things would always be with me an' Mr Frodo. I'd stick by his side as long as there was still breath in my body to keep me goin'. Sometimes we might be separated for a while if things had to be that way, but I'd never want to leave him, ever -– or not for long, leastways.
"Look, Sam, we're nearly at that big holly bush now," said Mr Frodo in a low voice. "There's a fine crop of red berries on there this year. Oh, and of course we'll need that mistletoe, too," he said, turnin' to me. An' was it my imagination or was there a bit of a mischievous glint in his eye just then?
Well, o' course that got me thinkin' of all them things what folks usually got up to under the mistletoe, an' I cleared my throat a little before replyin'. "Mr Frodo, I got a whole big bunch of it when I went to that mistletoe fair at Bywater a few days ago," I reminded him, "an' I've put it in the garden shed." It felt necessary for some reason to speak in half-whispers, as if our words would carry for miles an' miles through that still, clear air if we allowed 'em to.
"Let's go and get that first then!" Mr Frodo suggested, turnin' to me again with yet another o' those wonderful smiles of his. I looked into his eyes, all shinin' as they were in the moonlight, an' I tried to smile back but instead I just found myself gazin' back at him wordlessly, my insides contractin' just from the nearness of him an' that deep longin' for him what felt as if it'd never be satisfied.
"Aye, right you are," I managed eventually, though I couldn't be sure if my voice were shakin' a little or not. "The garden shed's just here up this path." Everythin' appeared so different covered in snow. On reachin' the shed door we found there were all these icicles hangin' down in front of it, glintin' coldly in the moonlight. So we looked at one another an' started breakin' them off, one by one. They made a brittle snap! sound as they broke, an' it felt strangely satisfyin' to get rid o' this obstruction an' let 'em fall with a swish to the ground.
I quickly opened the shed door an' grabbed the bunch o' mistletoe. Mr Frodo reached out his gloved hand to hold onto it whilst I closed the shed up again. Once more I couldn't be sure if I were just imaginin' things, or had Mr Frodo held my gaze for a while longer than he usually did when I'd handed him the mistletoe? We then went back over to the tall holly bush which grew way over our heads.
"I'll just stick this mistletoe up here in the holly bush for now," said Mr Frodo, reachin' up an' pushin' the stem between some close branches. The movement dislodged some of the snow what had settled on the bush, an' it fell right down on our heads an' shoulders, soft an' powdery an' freezin' cold. With both of us laughin' a little, I quickly brushed it off myself, then looked at Mr Frodo.
For some reason he hadn't made no move to get rid o' the snow from his own hair, but instead was just standin' there, kind o' gazin' at me all expectant like. The snow was gleamin' against that dark hair, an' the position he was standin' in meant the Evenstar looked as if it were right there over his head, shinin' real bright an' still sort o' winkin' at me. It made him look a bit like some mysterious creature what had suddenly sprang out of a hidden world of ice an' snow.
I'm sure them few moments didn't really last no time at all, but it felt like it was takin' forever for me to slowly an' carefully brush that snow out o' his hair. With my bare hand I could feel the softness an' silkiness o' them lovely dark locks what framed his face. Gently I stroked my tremblin' fingers through them curls, over an' over, marvellin' at how good it felt to touch him in that way -– though I was tryin' my hardest not to let my face give nothin' away.
Mr Frodo was just kind o' standin' there gazin' into my eyes, a half-smile playin' around the corners of his mouth. Once I'd managed to remove just about every snowflake I said to him, still lookin' into his eyes an' stammerin' a little, "Right ... erm, that's it, I think that's got rid of it all now, Mr Frodo."
"Thank you, Sam," he said to me, quite solemn like, as if he still didn't want to tear his gaze away from my face, didn't want me to stop what I was doin'. But all the snow was out of his hair now an' ... At that moment I felt as if the ground had begun shiftin' a little under my very feet. I glanced around me quick but everythin' still looked the same, all white an' silent an' still. Could it be? Was it more'n just my imagination gettin' out o' control again? But surely, not even in my wildest dreams could Mr Frodo want me the way I wanted him ...
"I think ... I think we'd better start cuttin' down some o' this holly," I managed eventually, reachin' for the small sharp knife in my pocket. Mr Frodo just nodded. I wondered if he'd notice how my hand was shakin' a little as I leaned forward to grasp a branch what had a specially good crop o' bright red berries. At least I was busyin' myself doin' somethin' familiar that I could cling to, as a small collection o' holly sprigs began to pile up on the ground beside us.
"D'you think that'll be enough now, Mr Frodo?" I asked him, glancin' at the ground an' back up to his face again. My breath caught when I saw the look in his eyes as he gazed at me again. It was warm but all solemn an' serious, too, with that kind of expectant look again what I'd seen earlier. It seemed to take a while for him to gather his thoughts.
"Sam," he began slowly, "I just have a feeling that this will be a very special Yule, and for that reason I'd like lots of holly this year. So, if you don't mind, could we have a little more?" He was still gazin' at me with that look in them huge eyes o' his, so I couldn't have refused even if I'd wanted to. But I didn't want to. I would've done anythin' for him, anythin' at all that he wanted me to.
I couldn't help wonderin' why he thought this would be a very special Yule as I reached out for another well-laden branch that was a little higher than our heads. I still couldn't figure out whether my mind was playin' tricks on me, an' I guess because of that my hands started shakin' even more'n they had been afore. Once again the powdery snow fell all around us as I sawed into the woody stem with my knife. An' then my shakin' hand slipped an' I went an' nicked the first fingertip on my left hand with the sharp blade.
Mr Frodo heard my slight intake o' breath an' said, soundin' a bit worried, "Sam, what is it?"
"Oh, it's nothin' at all really, Mr Frodo," I replied, lettin' go of the branch an' turnin' around so's I could see my cut finger in the moonlight. "Look, just a small cut, that's all," I assured him. He took my cut hand in his gloved one, palm upwards, an' gazed at it all full o' concern as the blood started oozin' out a little.
"My poor Sam!" he said. "It's all my fault -– I should have been content with what you'd already gathered for us." He looked at me again, all worried an' apologetic like. I shook my head, meanin' as he wasn't to blame himself at all. An' then somethin' quite amazin' happened. Mr Frodo was already cuppin' my wounded hand in his left one. He put his other hand over the palm an' raised my hand so it was level with his face. An' then he put my cut finger right into his mouth an' sucked on it.
I couldn't believe it was really happenin', so I just stood there, frozen with astonishment. I wouldn't o' been surprised if my mouth had been hangin' open a bit, so shocked was I. My finger was almost completely encased by that delicious mouth o' his, all warm an' wet, as Mr Frodo carried on suckin' on it. An' was I just imaginin' things again? ... But no, there it was. His tongue was flickin' softly against my skin, a mite playfully I would guess, seein' that his eyes were dancin' merrily as he looked up at me.
I suppose it didn't really last all that long, but it just seemed to me as if it was all goin' on for ages. Not that I wanted it to stop, mind. There I was, standin' there with Mr Frodo's soft mouth around my finger, an' it felt somehow more intimate to me than if I'd been standin' there stark naked in the snow. It was as if the ground was beginnin' to shift beneath me again in that silent white garden.
Once again some of the snow I'd dislodged had landed on Mr Frodo's shoulder. I put the knife back in my pocket an' reached out with my good hand to carefully brush it off. Only this time, when I'd finished, I left my hand right there where it was on his shoulder. Mr Frodo looked up at me again in that meaningful kind o' way, an' then he released my finger from that warm, sweet mouth o' his. I felt the shock o' the cold air on that finger as he placed first one of his hands, then the other, on my own shoulders.
I shivered a little, but I don't think it was from the cold. An' seein' that Mr Frodo was leadin' the way, what could I do but mirror his actions an' place my bad hand on his other shoulder? I didn't care whether it was still bleedin' or not. By this stage my heart was beginnin' to race, an' my breathin' was fair speedin' up. But then he could probably see that as our breath steamed in the freezin' air.
Mr Frodo gazed right into my eyes, all solemn an' serious again, an' after what seemed like a long time he said to me, "Sam, if you could wish for anything you wanted for Yule -– anything at all -– what would it be?"
My senses reeled. There he was, standin' right in front o' me with them beautiful big eyes gazin' right into mine, an' both his hands on my shoulders, an' mine on his, not movin'. I'd never been this close to him afore, with us touchin' each other, an' I revelled in every delightful second of it. This couldn't, just couldn't be my imagination any longer. It was real, it was happenin' an' I had this one precious moment to make things all right in my little world.
I gazed back at him, willin' him to see just how I felt about him, but the words wouldn't come. Not at first, leastways. I think my mouth must've opened an' closed a couple o' times. I wanted more'n anythin' just to answer his question with one simple word -– you -– though I didn't feel quite brave enough yet to do that. But still, I wanted to be as honest as I could with him.
I took a deep breath. "Well Mr Frodo," I said, slowly an' carefully, "I would wish for love. That is ..." I hesitated a little at that point, "I would wish that the one I love most in the world would love me in return." Mr Frodo carried on gazin' at me, then he looked down at my mouth for a few seconds before lookin' right back into my eyes again. I was feelin' a little bolder by this stage. "An' you, Mr Frodo?" I asked, my voice shakin' a little. "What would you wish for?"
Mr Frodo swallowed, an' I could see that he was probably feelin' as nervous as I was. But he carried on lookin' right into my eyes as he quietly said, "Sam, what I would wish for, more than anything, would be ..." an' now it was his turn to hesitate a little, "... I would wish for myself to be the one you love most in the world."
There it was then. He really did feel the same way as me, after all that wishin' an' dreamin' I'd done. I could hardly believe that this was really happenin'. I thought I'd probably wake up in a minute, all on my own in my bed at number three. But this had to be real. I knew it because I'd been standin' on the same spot for a while now, an' the snow was beginnin' to make my feet feel icy-cold. Not that I was payin' too much attention to my feet at the time though. I looked at him, an' he looked at me, an' we both started to smile at one another with relief an' gladness. No more worries or misunderstandings. My heart was so full of happiness it was fit to burst.
Mr Frodo looked up at the holly bush over our heads, then looked back at me in that meaningful kind o' way. I followed his gaze. Of course -– the mistletoe! There it was, hangin' right over our heads –- a whole big bunch of it. There was only one thing to do then. I gently brushed those dark curls back from his temples an' gazed at his lovely face, then I couldn't resist doin' what I'd only been fantasisin' about just a few minutes earlier. Usin' the first finger o' my good hand, I delicately traced along that sensuous upper lip of his.
I saw Mr Frodo quiver a little, an' sensed his breathin' was comin' a bit faster now. I could see it too, steamin' out into the cold air. An' then I felt his hand strokin' down the side o' my face as he carried on gazin' into my eyes, all solemn again. "Oh, Mr Frodo," I whispered breathlessly as our faces inched closer together. Then I watched as his eyes fluttered shut.
An' suddenly it was like the ground was movin' beneath my feet again an' the stars were all wheelin' round us, an' it was like I could hear some kind o' music. Singin' maybe. Can stars sing? I'm not sure, but that's what it sounded like to me.
Mr Frodo's mouth was beneath mine after all that time o' dreamin' an' longin' -– though I have to say that nothin' in them dreams o' mine could've prepared me for all that intoxicatin' sweetness what poured out of him into me an' back again, like it would never end, an' I never wanted it to end neither.
We stopped for air, breathless, laughin' softly. Mr Frodo had put his arms around my waist an' he pulled me even closer. My arms were movin' up an' down around his shoulders an' his back as I hugged him closer an' closer –- I just couldn't get enough o' the feel of him in my arms. "Oh, Sam – didn't you know? Could you guess how I felt about you?" he asked, eyes shinin', delirious with happiness. We both were.
"But Mr Frodo," I said, "I thought it were just me an' I never dreamed this could happen. Never ..." I was lost for words.
"Sam, I think we can drop the 'Mr' bit, at least when we're alone together!" he said, gently. "It doesn't sound quite right when here we are, holding each other like this and ... oh, Sam, I just can't believe this is happening, and I'm the luckiest hobbit in Middle-Earth!" he exclaimed.
"Hmmm, I think I might have to take issue with you on that one, Mr Fro ... I mean Frodo," I said, an' we both laughed. It might take me a while but I'd get used to it in the end.
"Sam, it's wonderful out here under the stars but I don't want us to get too cold!" said Frodo, strokin' up an' down my back an' huggin' me even closer. "Maybe we could just finish off these decorations quickly, what do you think? Look," he carried on in a rush, "I know you've already spent most of the evening away from your family and it's almost bedtime now, and I don't want to seem selfish but I was wondering if it might be possible to tell the Gaffer that Mr Bilbo is ... erm ... a little indisposed and so we might be needing your services during the night? I know it wouldn't quite be the truth but I'm not sure the rest of the world is ready yet to ..." He didn't finish off his sentence, but I knew exactly what he meant –- in both senses. My heart leaped for joy.
"I'm sure they wouldn't mind, an' I can always go back first thing tomorrow," I told him.
"That would be wonderful, if you could ... stay," said Frodo, givin' me one o' his big, beamin' smiles again, with me findin' it still had exactly the same effect on me. "Oh, and Sam," he said, that mischievous glint appearin' in his eye once more, "is there anything else you'd like to have for Yule, apart from just ... love?"
This were one o' them occasions when I felt it'd be better to show rather than tell, so I pulled him to me, closer than close. It were a mite difficult with us wearin' the thick coats an' all, but I pushed myself right up against him so's he could feel the hardened evidence o' my desire for him pressin' right up against him. He did exactly the same to me, then I felt my mouth bein' ravished by one o' them kisses that left all my senses reelin'. I'd never felt so full o' happiness an' excitement in my entire life.
"Well, it seems at least we're quite in agreement on that one then," he said, an' we both collapsed in a fit o' giggles. I suppose there was just a tiny bit of embarrassment there on both sides, what with the newness of it all, though I doubted it would last long. But my love for him, that was somethin' different -– an' I knew it would last forever.
"Sam, let's go back inside now, before either of us catch cold!" he said, beginning to pick up the holly sprigs from the ground.
"Oh, an' let's not forget the mistletoe, Mr ... I mean Frodo!" I said, laughing a little. Old habits don't change that quick. I glanced up at the sky an' saw the Evenstar again, an' I could've sworn that this time it gave me an extra-large wink. I grabbed the bunch of mistletoe from the bush an' asked him, "Where would you like this to be hung then?"
He thought for a few moments an' said, "Well, as it's quite a big bunch, I'd like you to split it into two. The first bunch can hang from the chandelier in the hallway. And the second bunch," he went on, lookin' at me all mischievous again, "I'd like you to hang that from the beam over my bed. Not that I think I'm going to need any more encouragement, but it is Yule after all!"
I picked up what remained of the holly, overflowin' with happiness from knowin' that this very special Yule wasn't over yet, not by a long way. I put my free arm around Frodo, an' he did the same to me as we walked back to the door of the smial. An' I don't know whether it was just my blood singin' in my ears or not, but I could've sworn that once more I heard that sweet singin' comin' from them stars in the dark skies above us.
~~~~~~The End~~~~~~
Here's wishing all of you a Merry Yule and a very Happy New Year! :-D
~Lyra
Author: lyrastar77
Title: Footprints In The Snow
Rating: Hmmm ... somewhere between PG-13 and R (are there any sexperts out there who can advise me??)
Pairing: Frodo/Sam
Warnings: Implied slash. Some very mild angst. Contains alcohol! ;-)
Summary: It's the night before Yule, and Sam wonders if his dreams about being with Mr Frodo could ever come true ...
Author's Notes: Before writing this I was a Frodo/Sam first-time virgin, so I thought it was time to do something about it! ;-)
Disclaimer: Sadly, the hobbits do not belong to me and I make no money from writing about them, though I promise to return them unharmed!
Footprints In the Snow
I'll never forget that night, not for as long as I live. The night when everythin' changed an' nothin' would ever be the same again in my little world.
It was the night afore Yule, an' it was gettin' quite late. Me an' Mr Frodo an' Mr Bilbo, we were sittin' round the fire in the kitchen at Bag End. The logs were cracklin' an' sputterin' in the grate an' I was tryin', without makin' it too obvious, to watch the glow from the firelight dancin' on that beautiful creamy-pale skin o' Mr Frodo's.
If I close my eyes it's like I can still smell them special Yule aromas even now, all mingled together ... spices from some bakin' what Mr Frodo had been doin', along with pine an' fruit, an' brandy too o' course. Heady stuff, it was. But nothin' like as heady as what I was feelin' deep inside.
"Sha ... Sam," Mr Bilbo confided to me, leanin' across to face me, "this is the besht brandy punch I ever tashted!" With a big happy smile he raised his glass, a bit shaky like, then he tipped his head back an' drained the lot in one go.
All of a sudden Mr Frodo looked right at me, his eyes sparklin' with silent laughter as he flashed me that stunnin' smile of his. He couldn't never have imagined how that smile always just completely melted me inside. It knocked me sideways so that I couldn't even smile back -– leastways, not straight off. Mr Frodo glanced over at Mr Bilbo then back at me again, eyebrows raised an' his mouth quirkin', as if to signal he thought Mr Bilbo had already taken quite enough punch on board for tonight, an' I got myself composed enough to grin right back at him in agreement.
"You must give us the reshipe for thish!" Mr Bilbo carried on, starin' at his empty glass, his words all slurry. Mr Bilbo didn't get this way too often but then that punch was pretty strong stuff, mind. "But Shamwise, sh ... shouldn't you really be with your family thish evening?"
"Well Mr Bilbo, my sisters were busy bakin' an' decorating the smial an' all," I explained, "an' they told me I was gettin' under their feet so I'd be better off out o' their way!"
"Anyway, Uncle Bilbo, Sam and I have been so busy running around to get all the last-minute things we need, and cleaning and cooking and washing up, and making the punch too, that we're a little behind with finishing off our Yule decorations here! And I'm going to need just a little more assistance from Sam tonight," Mr Frodo told him.
"Well you two can finish off the decorationsh then," said Mr Bilbo with some effort, risin' unsteadily to his feet. "But if you'll excushe me, it'sh high time I went off to my bed! And you, Sham," he said, turnin' to me with a knowin' kind o' wink, "you're mosht welcome here any time, you know that don't you? Punch or no punch! Goodnight to you!"
"Thank you, Mr Bilbo! G'night, sir," I replied, glad of his reassurin' words.
Mr Frodo jumped up, took Mr Bilbo's glass out of his hand an' held on to his arm, tryin' to keep him steady. "I won't be long, Sam. I'm just going to see Uncle Bilbo to his room." He looked at me again, eyes dancin', a smile playin' around his lips, as he slowly guided Mr Bilbo out into the hallway.
Oh, them eyes -– clear as the blue summer sky they were. An' them lips too. I could hardly tear my own eyes away from 'em most o' the time, so enticin' they seemed to me. I used to wonder what it would be like just to slowly run my finger along them perfect curves. An' I'd spent many a long, sleepless night, too, wonderin' how it might feel to put my mouth right over his an' taste that soft sweetness. Gently at first, an' then a bit more passionate like, so's I could show him exactly how I felt about him.
I shivered a bit then, an' wrapped my arms around myself. Not that the fire had died down or nothin' –- it was still blazin' away –- but somehow when Mr Frodo left the room it was like all the warmth an' light had gone with him. I looked around the kitchen an' saw the candles still flickerin', an' the firelight reflectin' off the copper pans hangin' from the beams. So everythin' still looked the same, but it didn't feel the same.
The only thing what felt the same was the way I'd always felt about Mr Frodo. Well, since I'd really started growin' up, leastways. I'd been aware he was someone very special, like, right from the outset. But this last year or so I'd come to realise, bit by bit, that Mr Frodo meant as much to me as life itself. Maybe even more'n that. All's I knew was I wanted to be with him more'n anythin' else in the world. An' not just as his gardener or his friend, neither.
I glanced around the kitchen again an' looked out of the window through them delicate, white lacy patterns the frost had etched on the glass. The snowfall had finished a couple of hours back, an' the inky-black skies were now clear again. I knew the moon was up there somewhere, an' I could see the Evenstar too, plain as anythin', big an' bright an' seemin' to wink at me at regular intervals, as if it were tryin' to tell me somethin'. I stared at it for a while, entranced.
I couldn't be sure quite what ol' Mr Bilbo had meant when he'd winked at me afore leavin' the room, sayin' I was most welcome there any time. Not that that wasn't a good thing to hear, mind. Perhaps he just hadn't figured out yet what was goin' on inside o' me. The way he almost certainly must've seen me lookin' at Frodo sometimes, despite my efforts to hide it –- wouldn't that have given me away? Didn't he maybe suspect somethin' there? But then, if so, why was he bein' all warm an' welcomin' like he was?
Surely, if he did suspect anythin', he would be keen to keep me an' Mr Frodo apart as much as he could, wouldn't he? I mean, there was Mr Frodo livin' in his world o' fine wines an' fancy clothes, an' there was me, livin' in my very different world o' plants an' wheelbarrows. It could never happen, could it? I'd convinced myself I could never have him. I might as well wish for the moon. I reached for my glass again an' took a few more gulps o' that brandy punch.
I sighed to myself a little, resigned to things never changin'. I honestly didn't know whether Mr Frodo had been gone for five minutes or fifty -– it just seemed far too long to me, that was all I knew. What remained o' the evenin' would fly by quick, an' soon enough there I'd be, makin' my way back through the snow to Bagshot Row to spend another restless night all alone in my empty bed.
I was certain Mr Frodo could never o' guessed about all them nights I'd lain there by myself, tossin' an' turnin' all feverish like, an' wishing it'd been him I was holdin' in my arms instead o' that big ol' feather pillow. An' what about them dreams I'd had, too, where I'd woken up in the middle o' the night, sheets all in a mess, still full o' longin' for him? Even then I coloured up a bit just thinkin' about it.
An' Mr Frodo himself -– did he suspect anythin' about my feelings for him? Bein' honest, I couldn't be too sure. I couldn't be certain, neither, if there was the faintest chance he might feel somethin' for me in return -– anythin' at all along the lines o' what I felt for him. Though it was pretty doubtful. Of course I desperately wanted it to be true, so I thought maybe I'd just imagined things sometimes, like the way he'd look at me now an' again.
For a start, there'd been that day last summer when it'd been so hot that even the birds had stopped singin' in the treetops. Hard to imagine that now, with this freezin' weather. But I'd been diggin' away in the garden as usual an' I'd started sweatin', so I took off my shirt. After a while I'd stuck the spade in the soil an' turned around, only to spy Mr Frodo watchin' me from his bedroom window. I hadn't even known he was there, but I'd waved an' he'd smiled at me a bit shy like an' called out, "Afternoon, Sam!" He'd even coloured up a bit, too, like he was embarrassed I'd caught him lookin' at me that way.
An' one time I'd gone into his study quite late in the evenin', to see if he still needed anythin' -– I'm not sure as he knew I was still there at Bag End. He was busy scribblin' away at somethin', all engrossed like, an' when he realised I was standin' there at his elbow he got a mite flustered an' quickly tried to cover up whatever it was he'd been workin' on. Not that I was tryin' to pry or nothin', I wouldn't do that to Mr Frodo. But I was lucky that Mr Bilbo had learned me my letters, an' I can't be sure but I think I caught sight o' the word 'Sam' in there somewhere. Though why he'd be writin' anythin' secret about me, I couldn't imagine.
Oh, an' there was that other occasion too when me an' Mr Frodo had been takin' our second breakfast right there in the kitchen one mornin', an' our talk had turned to lads an' lasses an' relationships, folks gettin' wed an' what have you. Mr Frodo never talked much about that kind o' thing, it didn't seem to be one of his favourite topics, like. But I'd glanced up from my plate to find him lookin' at me all strange like, with this dreamy, faraway look in his eyes. Though like I said, all o' this could've just been my imagination workin' overtime.
"Sam! You seemed quite far away just now, gazing into the flames!" I was a bit startled out o' my thoughts then, as I hadn't even realised Mr Frodo had come back into the kitchen. Before I could stop myself I'd given him this big soppy grin, so glad was I to see the kitchen suddenly all flooded with light an' colour an' warmth again. I wondered if he'd somehow guessed I'd been thinkin' so hard about him when he'd found me still there in front of the fire, lost in my own daydreams.
"Mr Frodo! How's Mr Bilbo now?" I asked him.
Mr Frodo laughed softly. "Uncle Bilbo's out for the count, Sam. He's already snoring away like nobody's business!" he told me. "But I wouldn't be too surprised if he has a bit of a sore head tomorrow morning! Oh and Sam, before I sit down by the fire again, wouldn't this be a good time to go out into the garden to get the mistletoe and cut some sprigs of holly?" he suggested. "It's getting rather late now."
"Good idea!" I said as I stood up an' went to fetch our warm coats. Wherever I was goin' to go, an' whatever I was goin' to do, so long as I was with Mr Frodo it was fine by me. Mr Frodo had picked up his own glass of brandy punch again an' he took a good few generous sips of it.
"Mmm, it's so cold out there, I'm going to need a little something to keep me warm! You know, Uncle Bilbo was right, Sam," he smiled. "This tastes excellent! Though it's quite powerful too, I think. And it's true to say I'm probably a little tipsy myself right now!" An' there was that broad grin of his again, knockin' me for six.
I held the door open for him as we stepped out into the chilly night air. "I doubt we'll need a lantern -– we should be able to see quite well in the moonlight. Sam, aren't you going to wear gloves like me?" I shook my head no. He brushed past me, right up close, an' my heart skipped a beat just like it always did when he was that near. So near but yet so far away, it always seemed to me. I could smell the punch on his breath, warm an' spicy.
I wasn't sure if I was a bit tipsy myself or not -– those kind o' feelings tended to get mixed up with all that light-headedness whenever he was around an' got that close to me. But I was punch-drunk, I knew that. Not from that stuff what I'd mixed together in that old crystal glass bowl o' Mr Bilbo's –- oh no. I was punch-drunk from this burnin' love I felt for Mr Frodo, an' there was no way o' hidin' it. Not from myself, leastways.
When we walked out together into the chilly night air, that was when it really started. I mean, the feelin' that tonight was special somehow an' we'd stepped out into a different world. I looked around me, full o' wonder. The snow, coverin' everythin' with a crisp white blanket what sparkled in the moonlight, had transformed our familiar garden into this strange an' magical landscape. I took a deep breath an' sucked the frosty air deep down into my lungs.
It was like a big hush had settled over everythin'. Almost as if the whole world was holdin' its breath, just waitin' for somethin' to happen. I couldn't hear nothin' except the soft whisper of our footfalls as we made our way towards the back o' the garden. Mr Frodo was lookin' up at the sky, an' I looked up too. "Isn't it all so beautiful, Sam?" he whispered, almost reverently. I nodded again -– for some reason it seemed difficult for me to find my voice tonight. There was the moon ridin' high up above us, all calm an' serene, castin' deep shadows under the trees. An' all the stars too, sharp points o' light glitterin' in that vast velvety blackness.
Both of us were shiverin' a little, our shoulders almost touchin' most o' the time, as we made our way silently across the garden. I stopped an' turned around at one point to look back behind us, an' I could clearly see the footprints we'd made in that virgin snow. Our tracks were mainly close together, sometimes separatin' a little, an' sometimes almost overlappin' too. An' that's how it seemed to me, the way things would always be with me an' Mr Frodo. I'd stick by his side as long as there was still breath in my body to keep me goin'. Sometimes we might be separated for a while if things had to be that way, but I'd never want to leave him, ever -– or not for long, leastways.
"Look, Sam, we're nearly at that big holly bush now," said Mr Frodo in a low voice. "There's a fine crop of red berries on there this year. Oh, and of course we'll need that mistletoe, too," he said, turnin' to me. An' was it my imagination or was there a bit of a mischievous glint in his eye just then?
Well, o' course that got me thinkin' of all them things what folks usually got up to under the mistletoe, an' I cleared my throat a little before replyin'. "Mr Frodo, I got a whole big bunch of it when I went to that mistletoe fair at Bywater a few days ago," I reminded him, "an' I've put it in the garden shed." It felt necessary for some reason to speak in half-whispers, as if our words would carry for miles an' miles through that still, clear air if we allowed 'em to.
"Let's go and get that first then!" Mr Frodo suggested, turnin' to me again with yet another o' those wonderful smiles of his. I looked into his eyes, all shinin' as they were in the moonlight, an' I tried to smile back but instead I just found myself gazin' back at him wordlessly, my insides contractin' just from the nearness of him an' that deep longin' for him what felt as if it'd never be satisfied.
"Aye, right you are," I managed eventually, though I couldn't be sure if my voice were shakin' a little or not. "The garden shed's just here up this path." Everythin' appeared so different covered in snow. On reachin' the shed door we found there were all these icicles hangin' down in front of it, glintin' coldly in the moonlight. So we looked at one another an' started breakin' them off, one by one. They made a brittle snap! sound as they broke, an' it felt strangely satisfyin' to get rid o' this obstruction an' let 'em fall with a swish to the ground.
I quickly opened the shed door an' grabbed the bunch o' mistletoe. Mr Frodo reached out his gloved hand to hold onto it whilst I closed the shed up again. Once more I couldn't be sure if I were just imaginin' things, or had Mr Frodo held my gaze for a while longer than he usually did when I'd handed him the mistletoe? We then went back over to the tall holly bush which grew way over our heads.
"I'll just stick this mistletoe up here in the holly bush for now," said Mr Frodo, reachin' up an' pushin' the stem between some close branches. The movement dislodged some of the snow what had settled on the bush, an' it fell right down on our heads an' shoulders, soft an' powdery an' freezin' cold. With both of us laughin' a little, I quickly brushed it off myself, then looked at Mr Frodo.
For some reason he hadn't made no move to get rid o' the snow from his own hair, but instead was just standin' there, kind o' gazin' at me all expectant like. The snow was gleamin' against that dark hair, an' the position he was standin' in meant the Evenstar looked as if it were right there over his head, shinin' real bright an' still sort o' winkin' at me. It made him look a bit like some mysterious creature what had suddenly sprang out of a hidden world of ice an' snow.
I'm sure them few moments didn't really last no time at all, but it felt like it was takin' forever for me to slowly an' carefully brush that snow out o' his hair. With my bare hand I could feel the softness an' silkiness o' them lovely dark locks what framed his face. Gently I stroked my tremblin' fingers through them curls, over an' over, marvellin' at how good it felt to touch him in that way -– though I was tryin' my hardest not to let my face give nothin' away.
Mr Frodo was just kind o' standin' there gazin' into my eyes, a half-smile playin' around the corners of his mouth. Once I'd managed to remove just about every snowflake I said to him, still lookin' into his eyes an' stammerin' a little, "Right ... erm, that's it, I think that's got rid of it all now, Mr Frodo."
"Thank you, Sam," he said to me, quite solemn like, as if he still didn't want to tear his gaze away from my face, didn't want me to stop what I was doin'. But all the snow was out of his hair now an' ... At that moment I felt as if the ground had begun shiftin' a little under my very feet. I glanced around me quick but everythin' still looked the same, all white an' silent an' still. Could it be? Was it more'n just my imagination gettin' out o' control again? But surely, not even in my wildest dreams could Mr Frodo want me the way I wanted him ...
"I think ... I think we'd better start cuttin' down some o' this holly," I managed eventually, reachin' for the small sharp knife in my pocket. Mr Frodo just nodded. I wondered if he'd notice how my hand was shakin' a little as I leaned forward to grasp a branch what had a specially good crop o' bright red berries. At least I was busyin' myself doin' somethin' familiar that I could cling to, as a small collection o' holly sprigs began to pile up on the ground beside us.
"D'you think that'll be enough now, Mr Frodo?" I asked him, glancin' at the ground an' back up to his face again. My breath caught when I saw the look in his eyes as he gazed at me again. It was warm but all solemn an' serious, too, with that kind of expectant look again what I'd seen earlier. It seemed to take a while for him to gather his thoughts.
"Sam," he began slowly, "I just have a feeling that this will be a very special Yule, and for that reason I'd like lots of holly this year. So, if you don't mind, could we have a little more?" He was still gazin' at me with that look in them huge eyes o' his, so I couldn't have refused even if I'd wanted to. But I didn't want to. I would've done anythin' for him, anythin' at all that he wanted me to.
I couldn't help wonderin' why he thought this would be a very special Yule as I reached out for another well-laden branch that was a little higher than our heads. I still couldn't figure out whether my mind was playin' tricks on me, an' I guess because of that my hands started shakin' even more'n they had been afore. Once again the powdery snow fell all around us as I sawed into the woody stem with my knife. An' then my shakin' hand slipped an' I went an' nicked the first fingertip on my left hand with the sharp blade.
Mr Frodo heard my slight intake o' breath an' said, soundin' a bit worried, "Sam, what is it?"
"Oh, it's nothin' at all really, Mr Frodo," I replied, lettin' go of the branch an' turnin' around so's I could see my cut finger in the moonlight. "Look, just a small cut, that's all," I assured him. He took my cut hand in his gloved one, palm upwards, an' gazed at it all full o' concern as the blood started oozin' out a little.
"My poor Sam!" he said. "It's all my fault -– I should have been content with what you'd already gathered for us." He looked at me again, all worried an' apologetic like. I shook my head, meanin' as he wasn't to blame himself at all. An' then somethin' quite amazin' happened. Mr Frodo was already cuppin' my wounded hand in his left one. He put his other hand over the palm an' raised my hand so it was level with his face. An' then he put my cut finger right into his mouth an' sucked on it.
I couldn't believe it was really happenin', so I just stood there, frozen with astonishment. I wouldn't o' been surprised if my mouth had been hangin' open a bit, so shocked was I. My finger was almost completely encased by that delicious mouth o' his, all warm an' wet, as Mr Frodo carried on suckin' on it. An' was I just imaginin' things again? ... But no, there it was. His tongue was flickin' softly against my skin, a mite playfully I would guess, seein' that his eyes were dancin' merrily as he looked up at me.
I suppose it didn't really last all that long, but it just seemed to me as if it was all goin' on for ages. Not that I wanted it to stop, mind. There I was, standin' there with Mr Frodo's soft mouth around my finger, an' it felt somehow more intimate to me than if I'd been standin' there stark naked in the snow. It was as if the ground was beginnin' to shift beneath me again in that silent white garden.
Once again some of the snow I'd dislodged had landed on Mr Frodo's shoulder. I put the knife back in my pocket an' reached out with my good hand to carefully brush it off. Only this time, when I'd finished, I left my hand right there where it was on his shoulder. Mr Frodo looked up at me again in that meaningful kind o' way, an' then he released my finger from that warm, sweet mouth o' his. I felt the shock o' the cold air on that finger as he placed first one of his hands, then the other, on my own shoulders.
I shivered a little, but I don't think it was from the cold. An' seein' that Mr Frodo was leadin' the way, what could I do but mirror his actions an' place my bad hand on his other shoulder? I didn't care whether it was still bleedin' or not. By this stage my heart was beginnin' to race, an' my breathin' was fair speedin' up. But then he could probably see that as our breath steamed in the freezin' air.
Mr Frodo gazed right into my eyes, all solemn an' serious again, an' after what seemed like a long time he said to me, "Sam, if you could wish for anything you wanted for Yule -– anything at all -– what would it be?"
My senses reeled. There he was, standin' right in front o' me with them beautiful big eyes gazin' right into mine, an' both his hands on my shoulders, an' mine on his, not movin'. I'd never been this close to him afore, with us touchin' each other, an' I revelled in every delightful second of it. This couldn't, just couldn't be my imagination any longer. It was real, it was happenin' an' I had this one precious moment to make things all right in my little world.
I gazed back at him, willin' him to see just how I felt about him, but the words wouldn't come. Not at first, leastways. I think my mouth must've opened an' closed a couple o' times. I wanted more'n anythin' just to answer his question with one simple word -– you -– though I didn't feel quite brave enough yet to do that. But still, I wanted to be as honest as I could with him.
I took a deep breath. "Well Mr Frodo," I said, slowly an' carefully, "I would wish for love. That is ..." I hesitated a little at that point, "I would wish that the one I love most in the world would love me in return." Mr Frodo carried on gazin' at me, then he looked down at my mouth for a few seconds before lookin' right back into my eyes again. I was feelin' a little bolder by this stage. "An' you, Mr Frodo?" I asked, my voice shakin' a little. "What would you wish for?"
Mr Frodo swallowed, an' I could see that he was probably feelin' as nervous as I was. But he carried on lookin' right into my eyes as he quietly said, "Sam, what I would wish for, more than anything, would be ..." an' now it was his turn to hesitate a little, "... I would wish for myself to be the one you love most in the world."
There it was then. He really did feel the same way as me, after all that wishin' an' dreamin' I'd done. I could hardly believe that this was really happenin'. I thought I'd probably wake up in a minute, all on my own in my bed at number three. But this had to be real. I knew it because I'd been standin' on the same spot for a while now, an' the snow was beginnin' to make my feet feel icy-cold. Not that I was payin' too much attention to my feet at the time though. I looked at him, an' he looked at me, an' we both started to smile at one another with relief an' gladness. No more worries or misunderstandings. My heart was so full of happiness it was fit to burst.
Mr Frodo looked up at the holly bush over our heads, then looked back at me in that meaningful kind o' way. I followed his gaze. Of course -– the mistletoe! There it was, hangin' right over our heads –- a whole big bunch of it. There was only one thing to do then. I gently brushed those dark curls back from his temples an' gazed at his lovely face, then I couldn't resist doin' what I'd only been fantasisin' about just a few minutes earlier. Usin' the first finger o' my good hand, I delicately traced along that sensuous upper lip of his.
I saw Mr Frodo quiver a little, an' sensed his breathin' was comin' a bit faster now. I could see it too, steamin' out into the cold air. An' then I felt his hand strokin' down the side o' my face as he carried on gazin' into my eyes, all solemn again. "Oh, Mr Frodo," I whispered breathlessly as our faces inched closer together. Then I watched as his eyes fluttered shut.
An' suddenly it was like the ground was movin' beneath my feet again an' the stars were all wheelin' round us, an' it was like I could hear some kind o' music. Singin' maybe. Can stars sing? I'm not sure, but that's what it sounded like to me.
Mr Frodo's mouth was beneath mine after all that time o' dreamin' an' longin' -– though I have to say that nothin' in them dreams o' mine could've prepared me for all that intoxicatin' sweetness what poured out of him into me an' back again, like it would never end, an' I never wanted it to end neither.
We stopped for air, breathless, laughin' softly. Mr Frodo had put his arms around my waist an' he pulled me even closer. My arms were movin' up an' down around his shoulders an' his back as I hugged him closer an' closer –- I just couldn't get enough o' the feel of him in my arms. "Oh, Sam – didn't you know? Could you guess how I felt about you?" he asked, eyes shinin', delirious with happiness. We both were.
"But Mr Frodo," I said, "I thought it were just me an' I never dreamed this could happen. Never ..." I was lost for words.
"Sam, I think we can drop the 'Mr' bit, at least when we're alone together!" he said, gently. "It doesn't sound quite right when here we are, holding each other like this and ... oh, Sam, I just can't believe this is happening, and I'm the luckiest hobbit in Middle-Earth!" he exclaimed.
"Hmmm, I think I might have to take issue with you on that one, Mr Fro ... I mean Frodo," I said, an' we both laughed. It might take me a while but I'd get used to it in the end.
"Sam, it's wonderful out here under the stars but I don't want us to get too cold!" said Frodo, strokin' up an' down my back an' huggin' me even closer. "Maybe we could just finish off these decorations quickly, what do you think? Look," he carried on in a rush, "I know you've already spent most of the evening away from your family and it's almost bedtime now, and I don't want to seem selfish but I was wondering if it might be possible to tell the Gaffer that Mr Bilbo is ... erm ... a little indisposed and so we might be needing your services during the night? I know it wouldn't quite be the truth but I'm not sure the rest of the world is ready yet to ..." He didn't finish off his sentence, but I knew exactly what he meant –- in both senses. My heart leaped for joy.
"I'm sure they wouldn't mind, an' I can always go back first thing tomorrow," I told him.
"That would be wonderful, if you could ... stay," said Frodo, givin' me one o' his big, beamin' smiles again, with me findin' it still had exactly the same effect on me. "Oh, and Sam," he said, that mischievous glint appearin' in his eye once more, "is there anything else you'd like to have for Yule, apart from just ... love?"
This were one o' them occasions when I felt it'd be better to show rather than tell, so I pulled him to me, closer than close. It were a mite difficult with us wearin' the thick coats an' all, but I pushed myself right up against him so's he could feel the hardened evidence o' my desire for him pressin' right up against him. He did exactly the same to me, then I felt my mouth bein' ravished by one o' them kisses that left all my senses reelin'. I'd never felt so full o' happiness an' excitement in my entire life.
"Well, it seems at least we're quite in agreement on that one then," he said, an' we both collapsed in a fit o' giggles. I suppose there was just a tiny bit of embarrassment there on both sides, what with the newness of it all, though I doubted it would last long. But my love for him, that was somethin' different -– an' I knew it would last forever.
"Sam, let's go back inside now, before either of us catch cold!" he said, beginning to pick up the holly sprigs from the ground.
"Oh, an' let's not forget the mistletoe, Mr ... I mean Frodo!" I said, laughing a little. Old habits don't change that quick. I glanced up at the sky an' saw the Evenstar again, an' I could've sworn that this time it gave me an extra-large wink. I grabbed the bunch of mistletoe from the bush an' asked him, "Where would you like this to be hung then?"
He thought for a few moments an' said, "Well, as it's quite a big bunch, I'd like you to split it into two. The first bunch can hang from the chandelier in the hallway. And the second bunch," he went on, lookin' at me all mischievous again, "I'd like you to hang that from the beam over my bed. Not that I think I'm going to need any more encouragement, but it is Yule after all!"
I picked up what remained of the holly, overflowin' with happiness from knowin' that this very special Yule wasn't over yet, not by a long way. I put my free arm around Frodo, an' he did the same to me as we walked back to the door of the smial. An' I don't know whether it was just my blood singin' in my ears or not, but I could've sworn that once more I heard that sweet singin' comin' from them stars in the dark skies above us.
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Date: 2006-12-06 10:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-06 11:52 pm (UTC)Thanks so much for reading & commenting! :-)
~Lyra
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Date: 2006-12-06 10:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-06 11:56 pm (UTC)Thank you for such lovely fb! :-)
~Lyra
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Date: 2006-12-07 03:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-07 01:56 pm (UTC)And thank you so much for reading & commenting -- I really do appreciate it! :-)
~Lyra
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Date: 2006-12-08 07:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-09 06:04 pm (UTC)It really means a lot that you read & commented, claudia!
~Lyra
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Date: 2006-12-09 02:27 pm (UTC)I know I shall re-read this quite a few times until Christmas if time allows and I have archived it away in my Yule fic folder. :)
This was sweet and happy and the atmosphere felt so real - I could feel the night air and the snow and the tension. And of course, the happy end made my heart warm.
Thank you!
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Date: 2006-12-09 06:18 pm (UTC)~Lyra
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Date: 2006-12-16 03:26 pm (UTC)*hugs*
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Date: 2006-12-19 04:25 pm (UTC)Finally I had the chance to read it. I like the way it is simply written, just like as it was Sam speaking, in his own personal language. You perfectly convey his love for Frodo, his uncertainties and his excitement.
And, in my opinion, there's nothing better than a good Frodo and Sam slash, especially if it's first time and it's very cold outside. Hobbits certainly know how to warm each other!
Thanks for sharing, dear!
*yule hugs*
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Date: 2006-12-31 04:52 pm (UTC)You're quite right! There's nothing better than hobbits keeping one another warm in the best possible way! ;-)
Mely, I'm so sorry I missed this comment when it was first posted -- I've just had so much going on, and I've been rushing around like a headless ... well, turkey I guess! But I'm glad you enjoyed it & I really appreciate it that you read & commented! :-)
*festive hugs*
~Lyra
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Date: 2007-01-02 11:48 am (UTC)I perfectly know how busy those days were for everyone. No time for anything, I'm still trying to catch up with my flist and all the comments. Not to mention I'd like to keep on writing my own fic, LOL!
I truly appreciated your fic, you know how much I love Frodo and Sam slash, and you can write it wonderfully!
*more hugs for you*