Silver dreams

The sky is broken.


Sequel to "Watch you in the rain"

This story found it’s existence in my imagination, hobbits or any of Tolkien’s work does not belong to me. The title "the sky is broken" is from a moby song.

Thanks to Entwife for being such a sweet beta!

Why is it that we love, the ones we love?

Why is it, that you care for one and do not glimpse at an other ?

Are there things more powerful than love, and for that, is love not anything but a mere idea ? Something you can forget, like the dream you had at night no longer seems important in the light of day? Are the solid, good ideas of the earth the ones that are always victorious?

Or is there really a thing, more fragile than a breeze, and just as hard to grasp, but so full it seems to much for one, that is stronger than all of life? Than all others?

Can it be victorious, when all else works against it? And for that, would it be a victory only of importance to the one who recieves it, or would there be a higher destiny to the choices we make ? If we could see in advance what they would bring, would we still stay true to them?

The sea.

High, grey waves. They were too strong for him. He knew it.. Overwhelming. Too much. There was nothing left. A enormous emptiness inside. Not me anymore. Nothing. A raw nothing, as salty as the waves, falling down in my face. Nothing.

And then there was something. Not love. But something warm. Sam. A string of images. Sam in the garden. Sam clinging to him, in the rain. Sam naked. Sam in dirt. Sam crying. Images he had not seen yet. And then there was the feeling of choice. It ripped at his troath. Like a dark knife. Choice. An image of Sam and children. He couldn’t breathe. The sea. Grey. Nothing.

He sat straight up in bed, taking one long ragged breath.

He was shivering. Cold.

Sam… the sound left his lips like a prayer.

Sam was lying next to him. He could feel it. He fell limblessly back on the bed. His teeth were chattering. Cold.

The next time he woke up there was a grey morninglight coming through the open window. He could vagely smell rain. And Sam. More close.

The overwhelming feeling of choice still resonated in his body. Sam… he kept looking at him.

When the first real rays of light moved up the bed, and kept lingering at Sam’s face, Sam started to wake up.

The first thing he realised was that he was confortable and warm. That there was somebody lying next to him. When he turned his head he saw Frodo looking at him. His face drawn and white, his eyes a stunning blue, endlessly deep and sad.

Frodo… he whispered, a note of bliss shimmering through in his voice.

Hello Sam, he said, kissing him softly on the lips.

Sam shrugged a bit. You taste of salt, he said.

The way Frodo had looked then he would never forget. Dragging him in a fierce kiss, with so much desperation and loneliness in it it made Sam almost cry.

Frodo, he had whispered, Frodo, meaning to take it away, to chase whatever demons were hurting him so deeply, but as soon as the moment had come it was gone again, Frodo’s kiss changing in one of soft love and adoration.

Goodmorning my sweet Sam, he had said, looking all the healthy hobbit he was again.

And at breakfast he had toyfully clapped on Sam’s behind, making him blush so badly they both laughed at it.

In the silence that followed Frodo dared to ask the fearfull question.

What are you going to do Sam ? After this, I mean. Your Gaffer…

Will listen to me, Sam added calmly.

He will not understand you Sam. He will be more than angry, and he would have every right to, Frodo thought secretly. Sam wasn’t even of age yet. Not that it would really make a diference. What they had done was wrong. It was considered as so unnatural that even in the inns there was no talk about such a thing.

I know he won’t understand me, Sam said sadly, but I will tell him anyway.

Sam, Frodo reasoned, you can always say that it was my fault, you know, that I wanted you to do… what we did, that you simply acted like this because I wanted you to.

Sam looked at him sternly and said with an decievingly calm voice, Begging me pardon, Mister Frodo, but I would never do such thing, and I reckon you know that.

I do Sam.

He just nodded.

Well, I reckon there’s no use in stalling any longer, he said. He softly squeezed Frodo’s hand, and with a swift turn he was gone.

Frodo felt like a whirlwind had danced right over him.

He crawled back into bed. There was just too much to think about. After a long hour he got up. He took a bath, resenting the feeling of the water against his skin, and the memories it brought back of his dream. Forcing himself to stay put.

He had always dreamed of the sea, as long as he could remember.

Of the salty taste, the grey waves, and a slight feeling of reluctance and both joy at the same time that went with it.

But never like this. Not with so much suffering, and hurt. It felt like his entire body had been ripped apart, stripped from everything that was him.

He vaguely felt like he had done something wrong to deserve it. Was it Sam ? Could it be ? He knew how wrong the things they had done were. But somehow he didn’t feel anything other than bright love every time he thought of them.

Sam was right now telling his gaffer about what happened. He’ll say his father he loves you, he’ll defend you and you know it. And here you are: sitting and feeling terrible becouse you had a dream ? He felt suddenly disgusted of himself.

He started pacing back and forth in the smial, ready to go to the gaffer and tell him right to his face that he was in love with his son. Every time he had reached the door realising that that probably would make things conciderable worse for Sam.

When he, in the late afternoon, finally heard a knock on Bag-ends door he practically jumped from tension and ran to the door, ready to hug Sam, to confort him, for everything, exept this.

When he opened the door he suddenly found himself looking straith into the eyes of the Gaffer.

His first idea was to close the door and pretend he wasn’t there, as Bilbo used to do to unwanted relatives.

Right after that he thought of Sam. Whatever the Gaffer would do to him, he could be sure Sam had suffered worse.

So he nodded in a fasion he hoped was politely, and let him in.

He wondered wether the hobbit had come to hit him.

He knew from Sam that his dad used beating as a punischment. Not that he had ever told him, not at all, but there are just things that one can know without asking.

It lay in the way Sam used to flinch sometimes when his dad came close.

In the way he principally never hurted any animal, or a flower, for that matter, but treated it as gently as he could.

Frodo braced himself for the blow.

In stead he heard him say : I reckon you know why I am here, sir.

Sir. As always that little word resonated in his mind. Even in anger the Gamgees where polite. Suddenly he felt his own anger flare up in his throat. Why can’t he just scream at me ? Hit me ? As anyone would ? As he would do to Sam ?

I know .

He showed him a seat.

He realised the Gaffer must have been here lots of times, sitting at this exact table, talking to Biblo.

The silence spun itself between them.

Where is Sam ?

He is gone back to the Cotton farm.

Oh. If he hurried he could probably still catch him. But what if Sam went out of free will ? Becouse the things his father had said to him ?

The Gaffer seemed unaffected by his question.

Nibs Cotton came knocking at me’door, through that storm, looking for him. I said Sam had left in a hurry becouse you needed him.

I’ve always been true to my word, you know that Mr. Frodo. And now I told a straight lie I did, only to protect me boy.

There always will be talk behind his back, Mr. Frodo, when they find out about this. For you, a Baggins, this … this kind of behaviour might be acceptable, but it sure isn’t for a Gamgee !

His voice started flaring in anger.

He’ll have to go away, leave Hobbiton.

Would you do that to your own son ? Would you send him away ? Frodo’s voice quivered.

Aye, I would, he said. And it would be the best thing I could do for him.

I love him ! Frodo yelled. Can you not see that ?

Aye, I know that. And he loves you right back he does.

That is why I am here today.

Did Mr. Bilbo ever tell you why I left my family in Tighfield?

Frodo didn’t answer. He had a vague idea where this was going, but he could hardly believe himself for thinking so.

I wasn’t gonna be a gardener, ya’ know, sir.

I was thought by my da to become a rope-maker.

One night he saw me in the woods with an other lad. Me father beated the life out of me, he did. It as the talk of the town.

Until me cousin Halman came around, and he said to me da I should become a gardener in Hobbiton. All I could do was say yes.

I started courting Bell , I became happy, it was the best thing that could’ve happened.

And that is all that I have to say on this matter, he concluded sternly, becoming the Gaffer once more.

After he had left, Frodo went to sit outside, on his bench in front of Bag-end.

What the Gaffer had told him had left him thinking. So a lad falling in love with a lad happened more often than he had thought. So why was it that he had heard of none of them ?

He realised what it must have taken from the Gaffer to tell him this. Although he had given his word to never tell anyone about it, he hoped the Gaffer, no, Hamfast it was really who he had talked to today, would tell Sam one day.

And the reason why he had told him al those things…

Could it be true ? Was it a fact that Sam would be more happy with a wife and children ? With the kind of home he could never give him ?

So if he really loved him, should he let him get married and have all that, as the Gaffer had suggested ?

The next day Frodo bid the Goodbody-girl from who’s family he usually bought his eggs and milk to come over.

He had thought the larger piece the night about this, and somewhere between the fading of the stars and the rising of a shy sun he realised he couldn’t just let Sam go. He couldn’t just tell him to get married, not without telling him also that he loved him. That he would stay with him, if he would let him.

So his choice had fallen on this girl. She used to come and listen to the stories Bilbo told when she was young, even when she became to old to still believe in them she came, offering to take the little ones with her.

She was very quiet by nature, but when she talked it showed of a deepness few hobbits possesed.

So when she knocked at his door, sightly blushing, a few bouncy curls cradeling her face, Frodo was surprised to see how old she had gotten. In his memory she had been a child, now she was an adult lass, somewhat younger than Sam was, but even still…

He realised she must have been nervous to talk to Mr. Baggins, as he was known now, after Bilbo left.

When he had given her a mug of tea and asked about her family he came to the point.

Willow, could I ask a favor of you ?

she nodded seriously.

Could you get this message delivered to Sam Gamgee, who is helping with the harvest at the Cotton farm ?

She thought for a second.

Aye, I can do that. I can pretend to go there to ask something about my wedding. I suppose nobody can know about this ?

Frodo smiled gratefully. He had chosen the right person.

When he handed her the message, she gave him a serious look and left, her tea forgotten at the table.

He had thought long about what to write, so that Sam would understand what it was he meant, but that it wasn’t obvious to another.

His final version was : Come and meet me where the elf surprised him, after nightfall.

It was based on a story Bilbo used to tell them, one of Sam’s favorites, abut an elf appearing on the edge of the old forest, near the green hill, shaking him out of his wits.

It would be easy to meet eatchother there, even in the dark, and it was far away from any eyes.

It was still to early in the afternoon, but he decided that he better left in time than hanging around, unable to focus on anything else than tonight anyway.

When he was ready to go,he felt as nervous as a young lad that’s going to ask a lass for marriage. Even worse probably.

He felt as if his entire life depended on this one night, this one conversation, on seeing Sam again even for one more time.

He slowly walked through the Shire, not really noticing it’s summer beauty.

The large grass fields had all taken the goldengrey colour of the last slowly drying hay. Many carts, filled with corn, grain, tobaccoleaves and everything the harvest had to offer, passed him by. Slowly pulled by a sweating horse, bending under it’s weight, often accompanied by a greeting from the hobbit that was seated on top.

The children where running freely among the fields, their high voices resonating in the bright air.

When he saw a cornflower-blue ribbon landing at his feet, he slowly picked it up and searched for it’s owner.

A little girl, one of her braids loose, was hiding behind her daddy when he came over to take it and thank Mr. Baggins.

The hobbit never knew that Frodo cried when he saw them walking away together.

When he crossed the Brandywine bridge and arrived at the edge of the forest, the sun was already setting in the sky, turning the light, shimmering through the trees, golden.

He placed himself at the ground, his back leaning against a tree, and simply waited.

The ground was still a bit damp from the past rainstorm, cousing him to shiver a bit by the time the first lonely stars became visible in the darkened sky.

He didn’t have to wait that long, by the time those first stars had become many, he saw a figure, dressed in a cloak, appearing over the hill.

Realising the message could have fallen in anyone’s hands, Frodo held back a bit, waiting until the figure would pass him by.

But when there were only a few meters more left, he felt like he couldn’t hold back any longer. He jumped up, his hands trembling and his heart racing, and cried : Sam ?

The next thing he knew, he was taken by the hand. A warm, gentle hand, already bringing back memories at a mere touch, and pulled abrubtly into the cover of the trees.

We’ll have to run, Mr. Frodo.

A deep voice, tickeling at his ear.

And then there were lots of trees, grass and branches snapping under their bare feet, as they made a run for it.

They stopped a few minutes later, under the cover of a particullary thick bunch of trees, both their breaths rapidly going in and out.

Frodo was sweating, eventhough he had been cold before, and he could feel his heartbeat beating all through his body, as they stood perfectly still.

After that long minute had past, without any sound of an other being there, they both relaxed.

The grip between their still joined hands became a soft, loving one. Sam traced his finger up and down acros the soft skin of Frodo’s wrist.

He softly sighed, still afraid to make any sound.

They lowered themselves to the ground, still toutching.

By who were you followed ? Frodo breathed softly in his ear.

By nibs. He didn’t believe me da. He’d told him that I was with you that night of the storm. He thinks I’m secretly courting a lass, and apparently he’s certain enough of it to follow me around.

And your Gaffer ?

Well… Sam let out a deep breath. He did not understand. But he didn’t react as badly as I thought he would. He looked sad almost, Sam said pensivly. And he told me I have to start courting Rosie Cotton as soon as possible.

Do you want to ? Frodo felt almost afraid of the answer.

Of cource I do not ! I don’t even know if she likes me.

I am sure she would think of you as a great husband, Sam.

It is you I love.

He was blushing. Eventhough it was dark, Frodo was sure of it.

O Sam I have missed you ! He held him close for a moment, inhaling the smell of garden, and hay, and Sam. His own Sam.

Eventhough he wanted to, he could not let the subject rest. Not until he was sure.

Don’t you want a smail filled with children, Sam ?

A son who looks like you, who you can learn all about the garden ?

And a wife ? Who’ll love you and take care of you ?

I did, Mr… Frodo, I did.

But deep down I always knew it was you who was in my dreams.

Sam…

Ssst Frodo. Sam slowly came closer

.

He could feel his outtake of breath tickling on his skin while Sam repeated : ssst…

He swallowed heavily.

Then he felt how Sam slowly started tracing his lips around the contours of his face. He could feel those lingering lips moving, ever so softly, over his cheeks,his forehead, and when he came at his nose he softly bit it, letting Frodo feel the hardness of his teeth for a split second. He gasped for breath.

When he came via the underside of his chin at the tip of his ear, he slowly took it in his mouth, tracing his tongue over it.

Frodo felt quite at loss for words, so he just put his mouth on Sam’s, while pushing him to the forest floor so he sat on top of him, earning him a small moan.

While he held Sam’s arms down and teasingly kissed him, he started tracing his fingers over the light fabric of his trousers, making him shudder.

Ooo… what if Nibs finds us ?

Frodo laughed, a bit breathlessly, and whispered in his ear : then he will be quite surprised, I reckon.

Sam smiled back and turned him over, so he could sit over Frodo and trace his hands up and down over that body, while kissing him passionatly.

After a few particullary arousing kisses, Sam sat back on his knees, and started unbuttoning his trousers, hand shaking a bit.

The mere sight of it made Frodo gasp for breath, and incredibly hard. By the time he had got up and opened his own trousers, he could feel Sam’s hands all over him, tickling him, and stroking, sending shivers up his spine.

And more importantly, Sam’s own arousal, pressing warm and hard near his thigh.

He turned around a bit and spread his legs, so he could sit over Sam, who was leaning into a tree and already breathing very shallow.

With the feeling of Sam’s hands on him, and his own stroking Sam, already a bit wet, Frodo wasn’t paying attention to anything anymore, exept the feeling of Sam touching him, pushing into him.

They were both so close, gasping and whispering each other’s names.

When suddenly they stopped.

Frodo felt an ice-cold chill in his stomac.

They heard something.

There was someone here.

They stayed as still as they could, hearing it draw near.

Then a grey shape passed them by, making a slow trotting sound in the process.

When it had passed by, it stopped to graze.

It was a deer.

They both breathed a sigh of relief, and immidiately stated thinking of others things again, Sam purposefully stroking Frodo into a hard climax, leading his hands over his body, as hard as possible, feeling those delicious shudders right before he came, gasping Sam… and seconds later the delicious shape in his arms whispered : come for me Sam, hard!

And Sam did, moaning and pulling close to Frodo neither of them caring if their clothes got sticky.

When their breathing had slowed down again, they sat up. Frodo showed his hand, a few white drups clinging to it. Sam reached to take a hancerchief, but Frodo just looked him straigth in the eye and licked at his finger. Making Sam swallow heavily and wishing for more time. But this was indeed dangerous, they could get caught any minute.

So he said : When do I see you again ?

I’ll come to the harvest festival, Frodo said, while buttoning his clothes.

Sam nodded, looking at the ground, tears welling up in his eyes already.

O Sam don’t cry. Frodo looked like he wasn’t so far from tears himself. We’ll find a solution to this ! We will !

Remeber what Bilbo used to say : There is a solution to any problem, me boy, and in time it will come to you, so there’s no use in crying about it.

Aye, I remember.

Sam smiled a shaky smile. And I remember also you talking back at him every time he dared say it, becouse you said you had every right to cry and complain about your problems, and that there never comes a solution if you don’t think of one.

Frodo laughed heartfully.

Why Sam, I never knew you listened at our arguments.

I didn’t, Sam answered dryly, there just wasn’t any place in the garden to work on where I couldn’t hear them.

Yes, well… Frodo blushed a bit, remembering all the awful things he had said in his difficult tweens to Bilbo.

I think he liked it, Frodo, you talking back at him. He once said to me he believed you and him had the same spirit, but in you that spirit stayed inside to much.

He did ? Now Frodo was truly surprised.

We have to go Sam…He dragged him in a long kiss, tasting of the forest, and tears.

Goodbye mister Frodo.

He was about to object when he saw the grin on Sams face.

And then he was gone.

He half-yelled goodbye, but doubted Sam had heard it.

When he walked back to Bag-end, over the moonlit Brandywine river and on the little earth roads of the Shire, he didn’t feel the constant whirl of emotions he had gotten accostumed to in the past days. His head felt clear, his senses open, he could smell the grass, he could hear the trees moving in the light breeze,the owls hunting for prey, and see a tiny mouse appear out of the forest.

His tread was fast and light, in this moment, in the beauty of the nature and the comfort of the stars, he truly believed there was a solution. He truly believed Sam loved him, leaving a warm feeling inside.

And most of all, he felt lucky, becouse somehow, somewhere along this road, he must have chosen for the right thing. Becouse, no matter what happened next, he knew this had been right. He knew the answer to the question, who would you be when there are none to judge? would be with Sam, and he realised now that if there would come people along to judge, it still would be Sam.


Based on the poem :


The sky is broken

Now

Shattered pieces

Of what we once were

Flying around

For us to catch

Every move

We make

Now

Is gonna shatter

One

Heal

The other

Today

The day the sky is broken

We choose


By Indy Baggins