The Last Day at Rivendell

Eventually Sam felt Frodo’s arms loosen their grip round his shoulders. He slid Frodo down so he was lying in the bed, and pulled the blankets up over him. He stopped to brush the hair out of Frodo’s eyes, gazing lovingly down at him as he did so, thinking how lucky he was.

Sam’s thoughts were interrupted when he heard the elves bringing in the hot water, and he put on his trousers, not bothering with the shirt, and let them in.

There were lots of them, all bringing in buckets of water, some steaming hot and some cold, and towels and soap. The final two elves brought in some clothes, and Sam could see that they were very fine, the like of which he had never in his life seen before.

The noise had woken Frodo, and he tried to sit up, but he was still weak and Sam had to help him.

“Do you want me to carry you?” Sam asked.

“No, I’m alright,” Frodo said, but he leaned heavily on Sam as they walked to the bathroom.

Sam helped Frodo step into the bath, but he winced as he sat down and felt the hot water hit the weal on his back.

Sam bit his lip and turned away, but he took a bucket of cold water and added some to the bath, so it was still warm but not boiling hot. Sam had one arm behind Frodo’s legs and the other behind his shoulders as he eased him back in the water. Frodo breathed in sharply as the water hit his back, but the pain soon went as he lay in the warm water.

Sam eased Frodo’s head back and washed his hair with the soap, which smelled of lavender, reminding him of the gardens back home in the Shire at the height of summer.

Sam was watching Frodo as he lay back with his eyes closed, looking so relaxed and so beautiful. He washed his face gently. There were some small scars there, but nothing that would leave a mark. Sam ran his hands over Frodo’s neck as he washed him, and Frodo arched his back and unconsciously pushed into Sam’s hands. Sam was fighting to control himself as his soaped hands ran over Frodo’s hard nipples, and he felt his breathing deepen as he felt that soft, smooth little lower belly under his hands. But Frodo was soft, and over-tired, and Sam concentrated on washing Frodo’s little arms, keeping his bandaged hand out of the water. He washed under Frodo’s arms, and felt him twitch suddenly.

“You’re tickling!” Frodo said, with a little smile on his face.

“Sorry,” Sam said, but he was smiling too, and he kissed Frodo’s wet cheek. He would have kissed his lips, but Frodo was over tired, and Sam decided against it.

Sam put his soapy hand under the water and went to touch Frodo, but he moaned and pushed Sam’s hand away. “Sorry,” Sam said, stroking Frodo’s wet cheek, “I know you’re exhausted.”

“Sam,” Frodo said. “I’m past exhaustion.”

“It’s OK,” Sam said. He kissed Frodo’s cheek and Frodo looked up at him. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

Sam got Frodo to kneel up in the bath as he took his cock in his hand and washed it. Sam was still fighting to control his breathing as his soapy hands slicked between Frodo’s legs, between his little buttocks, and over his still relaxed and open passage, but Frodo was leaning heavily on him, trying to stay upright, and there was no reaction from him.

Sam lay Frodo back in the bath, and washed his legs and his little hairy feet, and as his hands ran over Frodo’s inner thighs, a sigh escaped from him as he was breathing deep and hard.

Sam told Frodo to lie back while he sorted out the towels. Sam was rock hard, and aching with it, and his chest felt tight as his breathing was becoming deeper, and he needed something to distract himself with.

There was a bench at the side of the bathroom, wide enough for a hobbit to lie on, and Sam lay some towels down there, and folded one up like a pillow for Frodo’s head.

Frodo was watching Sam as he moved about the steamy room. He looked good like that, with his shirt off showing all his muscles, and Frodo could tell he was aroused. The front of his hair was wet – he must have pushed it back with a wet hand, and the ginger hairs on his arms were slicked down with the water. There was water in odd places on him, like a bit on the side of his trousers, and Frodo wondered how it had got there.

Sam plunged his bare arms into the bath, and picked Frodo up, his wet body pressed against his chest, and lay him down on the bench

Frodo smiled with pleasure as Sam dried him gently with the towel. His Sam, he thought, smiling as he thought of how lucky he was to have him.

“What are you smiling at?” Sam asked. His strong hands were so gentle as he continued to dry him.

Frodo didn’t know what to say, and Sam didn’t seem to need an answer. He was smiling, too, lost in his own thoughts of Frodo.

Suddenly, Frodo let out a giggle as the soft towel dragged across his crotch, tickling him.

“You’re tickling me!” he said, giggling helplessly. Sam was surprised to hear it, to see those blue eyes flashing again. He had caught a glimpse of the old Frodo just then, and was keen to encourage it. He threw the towel to one side. “Oh, yeah?” he said, a little grin on his face, “No, that’s tickling you,” he said, as his hands tickled lightly over Frodo’s chest, under his arms. He had got Frodo’s little hairy feet, and Frodo was kicking him and laughing, totally helpless. Sam could see Frodo twitching and starting to get hard from his touch. He tickled him over his lower belly and in the corner of his crotch, in his pubic hair, and Frodo was fully aroused now.

Sam lay flat on top of Frodo’s naked, damp body, and kissed him, his tongue entering deep into Frodo’s mouth. He felt Frodo getting even more hard and pushing against him, and Frodo moaned into his mouth as Sam reached his hand between them to touch him.

Sam kissed Frodo’s smooth little belly, and Frodo moaned, guessing what was to come next. He opened his legs so Sam’s shoulders were resting between them, and put his hands in Sam’s hair, gripping it in his pleasure as he pushed his crotch closer to Sam’s mouth, moaning in anticipation. His head was raised slightly on the folded towel, and the sight of Sam’s head down there was driving him frantic.

He felt Sam’s tongue snake out and lick the tip of his cock and he moaned loudly, desperate to be in that wet warmth of his mouth. Sam licked along the length, and Frodo’s hips were thrashing helplessly. Sam held Frodo’s hips in both hands and Frodo moaned in frustration, then in deep pleasure as Sam took his cock deep into his mouth. Frodo was groaning deep and loud as he felt the wet warmth of Sam’s mouth, felt his hot little tongue wrap around. He heard Sam was moaning too, enjoying his pleasure. As his head slid up and down on Frodo’s cock, Sam’s hips were rubbing onto the soft towels in the most pleasurable way. He felt himself getting wet as he felt Frodo tense, and he felt him throbbing before he tasted it. Sam carried on sucking and swallowing as the hot, salty liquid hit the back of his throat.

Sam eventually felt Frodo’s throbs subside, and he kissed Frodo’s little belly. Frodo was smiling at him, relaxed and sleepy. “Take your trousers off,” he said, smiling.

“You don’t have to,” Sam said, stroking Frodo’s wet hair, “I know you’re tired.”

Frodo smiled. “I want to,” he said.

Sam took his trousers off and sat naked on Frodo’s chest. He moaned as Frodo took his rock hard, erect member, first in his hand, and then eased it into his mouth. Sam looked down at Frodo, who had his eyes half closed, and his mouth was full with it. He could feel Frodo’s hands grasping his buttocks, and he thrust gently into Frodo’s mouth, and groaned as Frodo sucked harder and deeper and wrapped his little tongue around.

Sam was worried that Frodo was tired, but he had got so aroused washing Frodo’s little naked body and giving him pleasure, that he knew it wouldn’t take long.

He felt Frodo’s hands grip harder and push him deeper into his mouth, and it was too much for him. He realised that Frodo had already tasted him, that this was what he had been suggesting, and he gave a shout as he felt himself releasing, and the pleasure and the throbbing carried on for what seemed like ages.

Sam gently eased himself off of Frodo, and put a towel over him while he put his trousers and shirt back on. He heard a knock on the door, and realised it was Aragorn.

“Er, we’re not quite ready yet,” Sam said awkwardly, but Aragorn had already let himself in. Sam stepped out of the bathroom, and he almost missed him. He was sitting in a chair in the corner of the room, and he seemed to disappear into the shadows. Sam smiled at the thought that, even though he was King now, he hadn’t lost his old ranger habits.

Aragorn asked him if he needed any help with Frodo.

“No, I’m alright,” Sam said, awkwardly, still not sure, and feeling somehow that this was his job, to look after Frodo.

Aragorn told him there was some hot water in Merry and Pippin’s room, and to have a bath and get changed while he saw to Frodo. Sam was still reluctant as Aragorn picked up Frodo, still wrapped in the towels, but Sam picked up Frodo’s clothes and brought them over to him.

Aragorn was sitting on the side of the bed with Frodo on his lap, and Sam was still reluctant to leave him. “Go,” Frodo said. “I’ll be fine.”

Sam picked up his own new clothes slowly, watching Aragorn with Frodo. Frodo’s head didn’t even come halfway up Aragorn’s chest, and his feet just reached the end of his knees. He watched Aragorn as he dropped the towels to around Frodo’s waist and started to put his shirt on. Frodo was like a child to him and, satisfied, Sam finally left the room.

He knocked on Merry and Pippin’s door and Merry answered. They were both dressed in dark red velvet and looking fine and handsome. “Look at you!” Sam said, grinning. He felt a mess next to them, and was keen to get washed and changed.

Merry said there was some spare hot water in one of the baths.

“I don’t know why they gave us two baths,” Pippin piped up, “we were quite happy to share,” he said cheekily, gazing at Merry.

“Yes, thank you, Pippin,” Merry said, and Sam looked away as he kissed him on the lips.

“The floor’s a bit wet,” Merry said, stroking Pippin’s hair. “Pippin’s been splashing about a bit.” He ran a finger along Pippin’s cheekbone, smiling at him. Sam remembered when they had bathed in the old farmer’s house, what seemed like years ago, and how Pippin had made a fountain with his feet, and had been made to clear it up. Sam smiled as he realised that probably wasn’t how it happened this time.

Merry gave Pippin a kiss on the cheek, stroked his hair and whispered something in his ear, then he showed Sam into the bathroom.

As soon as they were both in the bathroom, Sam shut the door behind them. “What’s wrong, Merry?” he asked, concerned. He cupped Merry’s face in his hand, his thumb stroking his cheekbone, and he could see the sadness and the hurt in Merry’s eyes.

Merry put his hand on Sam’s and took it down, averting his eyes as he was thinking.

“It’s Pippin,” he said, quietly, so he couldn’t hear from the other side of the door. “He cries himself to sleep every night.”

“And you look like you haven’t slept at all,” Sam said, looking at the dark circles under his eyes.

“I wait for Pippin to fall asleep,” Merry said, “but by the time he’s fallen asleep my head’s going round and round and I’m wide awake.”

“Come to Bag End tomorrow,” Sam said. “I know some herbs that’ll make you sleep. Both of you,” he said, thinking Pippin must be collapsing with exhaustion every night.

“Thanks,” Merry said. He thought for a bit, wondering how much to tell Sam. “But it’s more than that,” he said. Sam realised his eyes were filled with tears. “It’s that I couldn’t protect him,” he said. “Ever since we were little, I’ve always been there to get him out of trouble, and there he was, in the most trouble he had ever been in, in his life, and I couldn’t protect him from it.”

Sam hugged him tight, and he realised he was crying. Sam kissed his cheek and tasted a salty tear.

“Merry,” Pippin’s high pitched voice piped up from the bedroom. “I might wonder what you’re doing in there!”

Merry smiled, and wiped his eyes.

“Go to him,” Sam said.

Something was bothering Sam. He realised that when he had hugged Merry, he had had to tilt his chin to rest it on his shoulder, but before he had been able to do it easily. But Merry was much too old to be still growing.

“Merry,” Sam said uncertainly. “Have you grown?”

Merry turned back to him as he was about to leave the room. “Yes,” he said, smiling, leaving Sam to shake his head and wonder.

Sam sank into the bath. The water was still hot, and as he washed himself with the lavender soap, he thought he would plant some lavender for Frodo when they got back to Bag End. He would be living there, he thought, letting the excitement and his dreams sink in.

As he leaned back in the bath, Sam heard Pippin’s high pitched voice again. “Oh Merry, you look very handsome like that!” Sam smiled, and thought of how beautiful Frodo would look dressed in that dark red velvet.

Sam got out of the bath and dressed. He felt odd and out of place as he dressed in the fine new garments, and he longed to be in some of his old, comfortable clothes from Bagshot Row.

Not wanting to walk in on anything, Sam listened at the door before opening it, but what he heard was far worse – Pippin was crying.

Merry was sitting on the bed, leaning against the headboard, with Pippin sitting between his legs. Merry had his knees up and apart, and his arms tightly around Pippin, pressing his head into his chest. Sam was about to go over to them, but Merry had a kind of fierce and protective look in his eyes that put him off. Merry had his chin resting on the top of Pippin’s head, and he covered Pippin’s face as Sam slipped from the room.

As Sam passed the windows on the corridor, he saw that there were two ponies and a wagon waiting in the courtyard.

He hurried back to his room. He smiled at Frodo, as he saw that he looked just as beautiful as he had imagined. Aragorn had been drying his hair, teasing it into little loose curls, and his cheeks were still slightly flushed from the bath. The dark red of the velvet brought out the colour of his skin, and Sam thought he would melt at the sight of him. His blue eyes were flashing and he smiled as he caught sight of Sam.

Sam reached his arms out to attempt to pick him up, but Aragorn said “let me carry him”. Sam was reluctant again, and he started to voice his protest but Aragorn stopped him, saying, “You’ve done more than enough already, Sam”, and Sam walked beside them. Aragorn had picked Frodo up and carried him, his legs straddling Aragorn’s hips like a child. Frodo rested his head on Aragorn’s arm. Aragorn could carry most of his weight with just one arm, he barely needed the other to steady him.

Frodo looked up as they came to the courtyard. Merry and Pippin were sitting up as tall as they could on the little ponies, looking proud and handsome. They smiled as they caught sight of them and shouted “Frodo!” “Sam!” Sam could hardly believe his ears, and he wondered again at the ways of the elves, as he heard one of them say to Merry and Pippin. “Just let the ponies loose when you get back, they’ll find their own way home.”

Sam climbed into the open topped wagon, which was being driven by a young male elf. He reached his arms out to take Frodo as Aragorn lifted him into the wagon. Sam wrapped some blankets around him, and Frodo settled back into his arms as the wagon set off at a slow walk. “To Bag End, Hobbiton,” Sam said, realising in a daze that the elf asked for no further direction. They really are amazing creatures, those elves, Sam thought.

Sam suddenly remembered something as they set off. “Come to Bag End tomorrow!” he shouted to Merry and Pippin.

As he turned round he could see Merry and Pippin looking at each other in that way they always had when they were up to some mischief. Sam caught the little glint in Pippin’s eye as he said to Merry, “Shall we?”, and Merry nodded and said, “I think we should.” They looked at each other once more, before hollering and whooping as they kicked their ponies into a gallop, and Sam smiled as he watched them disappear.