Farewell My Love

Frodo knocked on Merry’s door, cautiously. He didn’t want anyone to know where he was going, or to see him crying, he thought, as he wiped the tears from his eyes.

“Merry,” he said quietly, as he turned the handle.

Merry said nothing as he tended the fire.

Frodo waited, standing awkwardly next to Merry, until eventually Merry looked up. Frodo could see tears in his eyes. “Have you finished packing?” he asked.

“Yes,” Frodo said quietly. A tear escaped from his eye and rolled down his cheek.

Merry stood up. Frodo felt Merry take his hands, feeling the firm touch of his fingers.

“I don’t want to go,” he said.

“But you want to live with your uncle, don’t you?” Merry asked softly.

Frodo nodded, and Merry tilted Frodo’s chin so that he was looking into his steely blue gaze. “I don’t want to leave you,” Frodo said. He felt Merry kiss him gently, felt the warmth of his lips.

They were both crying as Merry took Frodo’s head in his hands and kissed him passionately.

“I’ll visit,” Merry said as he broke the kiss, “I promise.”

Merry kissed Frodo’s cheek, then he stroked it, thinking he couldn’t see Bilbo approving of him paying Frodo ‘visits’. He held Frodo’s trembling body gently in his arms. He had one hand in the back of Frodo’s hair and one resting on his rump as he pulled Frodo closer to him, knowing it would never be the same again. He felt Frodo’s hardness against his leg as he pulled Frodo in even closer, almost hurting him, as he remembered he had heard Bilbo’s gardener had a nice young son.

Trying to push these thoughts from his mind, Merry took a step back and put his hands on Frodo’s shoulders.

“You must go,” he said, even though the words felt like a stone in his heart. “He’s your closest living relative, and you’ll inherit Bag End when you come of age.” Frodo was looking away, but Merry took his chin in his hand and tilted it towards him, forcing Frodo to look into his eyes. “You’ll have a future, Frodo,” he said, trying to make him understand. “You won’t have that here. It’s important,” he said. Frodo said nothing, but wrapped his arms around Merry and kissed him passionately. Merry could feel Frodo’s hot little tongue in his mouth, and felt his hips begin to rock as he grew hard and felt that urge well up inside him, as he felt Frodo’s little hands on his rump, pulling him closer, feeling him.

Frodo broke the kiss and Merry reached his hands between them, quickly and frantically undoing the buttons on Frodo’s shirt. He kissed Frodo again, and Frodo felt Merry’s hands on his bare shoulders as he slipped his hands underneath his open shirt, and he heard the clink of buttons as it hit the floor.

“Stay tonight,” Merry whispered hoarsely in his ear.

Frodo could only reply “mmm……..” as he groaned as he felt Merry kiss his neck. Frodo arched his neck towards Merry’s kiss, and he gasped as he felt Merry’s hot tongue teasing across his nipples. Frantic, Frodo ripped Merry’s shirt off, losing a few buttons as he did so. He groaned loudly as Merry took his right nipple in his mouth, and he held Merry’s head there, gripping his curls, as Merry sucked hard, taking a little of the skin around it, and licked and swirled his tongue over it. “Merry!” he gasped, as he felt Merry move over to the other nipple, and he gripped Merry closer, trying to press his hardness onto him, his need and frustration growing.

Merry wrapped his arms around the small of Frodo’s back, and his touch calmed Frodo, and he smiled back at Merry, his hands touching the muscles that were just starting to form on Merry’s chest. Merry gazed back at him, and saw his face, so fresh and innocent, his smile lighting up his bright blue eyes. He was not quite mature yet, but becoming more so every day, and Merry paused as he thought this was how he wanted to remember him, to capture this picture in his mind forever. Merry touched Frodo’s cheek, and Frodo’s smile faded a little, as he realised that he didn’t want the time to pass, that every second was bringing him closer to when he would have to leave.

Merry put one hand on the small of Frodo’s back and the other on his cheek, cupping his jaw in his hand, and Frodo gripped one hand into Merry’s curls and placed the other on his chest. He put his lips to Merry’s for one last kiss, and he heard Merry give a little moan as he pushed Frodo roughly to the floor. The soft sheepskin rug broke Frodo’s fall, and he ended up was lying on his back, with his knees bent and his feet flat on the floor. He could feel the softness of the rug under his back and his bare feet. Merry sat on his heels between Frodo’s legs and he took Frodo’s hands in his. “Frodo, you know I love you, don’t you?” he said, stroking Frodo’s hands with his thumbs. “I love you too, Merry,” Frodo said, his eyes sparkling beneath the tears.

Merry, weary all of a sudden, took Frodo’s ankles, one at a time, and rested Frodo’s feet flat on his thighs. He was watching Frodo as he slid his fingers between the thick hair on his feet, using the pads of his fingers to gently stroke the soft skin beneath.

“Mmm, that feels good,” Frodo said, his eyes closing.

Merry carried on for a little while, making small circular movements with his fingers, dreaming as he watched Frodo’s naked chest rise and fall.

Frodo moaned as he stopped, then moaned again as Merry pulled off his breeches, fast, and urgently, freeing his growing hardness. “Merry,” Frodo said, pulling Merry down roughly on top of him, and he tugged frantically at Merry’s trousers, his breath coming hard and fast now as Merry, urgent too, helped him, and soon they were both naked. Frodo felt the delicious softness of the sheepskin rug beneath his back and buttocks, and under his feet as he sank his toes into it. He gasped as Merry pinned him down by the wrists and started to kiss his little nipples. Merry’s weight on his wrists was hurting him, and he could feel the hard floor beneath the rug, but he wouldn’t let him know it. He moaned in frustration as he felt Merry’s hot tongue on his nipple, teasing, playing with it, but there was nothing he could do. He felt his legs move as he was urgent, desperate to hold Merry close. He moaned loudly as he felt Merry’s teeth, gentle but so exquisite, on his nipple. He kicked and struggled in his frustration and Merry, laughing, released his wrists and Frodo pulled Merry towards him, and Merry felt his rough, urgent kiss, and he moaned into Frodo’s mouth as he felt Frodo’s arms find the embrace they so desperately needed.

Frodo was urgent, almost rough for a young hobbit, as he wrapped his arms tightly around Merry, embracing him. He heard moans coming out of him that he didn’t even realise he was making and he pushed against Merry as he touched his back, his buttocks, his chest, feeling the soft, smooth skin, and he heard Merry moan and his harsh breath in his ear as he reached down between them and touched his soaking wet cock.

Merry kissed Frodo gently as he felt his blissful touch, felt the heat of the fire almost burning his skin. Merry stroked the naked skin on Frodo’s chest, reaching down to the soft skin of his lower belly, thinking of how much he loved him.

Merry heard Frodo moan as he touched his hardness, took his cock in his hand, feeling the wetness catch on the inside of his arm. Frodo was lying with his knees up and apart, and he saw Frodo open his legs wider, the silent signal he always gave when he was ready.

Merry was breathing deep and fast in anticipation as he reached for the bottle of oil that he always kept well hidden.

He saw a little smile begin at the corner of Frodo’s lips as he watched Merry do exactly what he knew he would do, what he had always done. Merry’s touch felt so reassuringly familiar as it slipped down between his buttocks, and Frodo relaxed and gave a deep moan as he felt Merry’s fingers slip inside.

Merry was lying on top of Frodo now, between his bent legs, with one hand underneath him.

Frodo groaned as Merry slipped his fingers in further, and Merry caught his open mouth with a deep kiss. Frodo moaned into Merry’s mouth as Merry touched that spot deep inside, and Merry felt his urgency growing.

Merry kissed Frodo’s neck as he brought his third finger towards Frodo’s entrance, testing. His breathing was getting faster as he felt how hot Frodo was inside, so inviting, and he groaned in frustration at the thought of being inside him.

Merry kissed Frodo again on the mouth, deeply, and as his tongue entered deep into Frodo’s mouth he felt Frodo’s body relax further. Frodo groaned loudly into Merry’s mouth as he felt a third finger slip inside him, stretching him almost to the limit.

Merry broke the kiss, and slipped his oiled fingers in even deeper, and Frodo arched his back, pushing himself further onto Merry’s fingers.

Frodo closed his eyes and relaxed as he let Merry touch him deeper than he had ever done before. He felt the pleasure coursing through him and he wanted it to go on forever, but soon, too soon, felt Merry take his fingers out, leaving him feeling empty, too empty, and urgent.

“Merry,” he said, and Merry looked at him, the fire in his eyes.

“Perhaps we need a little lubrication,” Merry said, handing him the bottle with a little smile.

Frodo smiled as he poured the oil over his hands and quickly, urgently, grabbed Merry’s cock. He was pushing Merry towards him with his other hand on his back, and he guided Merry’s cock, and gave a groan of satisfaction as Merry finally entered him.

Merry had grabbed Frodo’s hands again, his oily fingers intertwined with Frodo’s, and he pinned him down by the hands as he thrust hard, and fast, as Frodo squeezed his little muscles and groaned deeply as with every thrust Merry was hitting that spot deep inside.

Frodo could feel himself starting to sweat, feel the urge in his cock grow more urgent. He tried to push against Merry’s hands, but Merry was too strong for him.

“Merry….I need to….hold you…..now….let me….go” Frodo cried between breaths. Merry let go of his hands suddenly, laughing, as Frodo pulled him close, and groaned as he felt Frodo’s hard, wet cock push into his belly.

“Merry!” Frodo cried, as Merry felt that delicious hot wetness spread across his belly, and he kept thrusting into Frodo as it flowed out of him in little bits, until Frodo’s head was spinning and he didn’t know where he was. Just as he groaned as he felt he couldn’t take any more pleasure, he felt Merry throb inside him, and his gave one last, loud, groan, as he pulled Merry close on top of him until his throbbing ceased.

Frodo held Merry for a while longer, gently stroking his back and shoulders. “I love you, Merry,” he said.

Merry held him, too choked to say anything.

He eventually got off Frodo, and sat on the rug stroking Frodo’s soft, sticky belly. He could see the fire burning down to its embers, and it was dark behind the curtains.

“Perhaps we should go to bed,” Merry said, staring at the darkness at the corner of the curtains.

“Do you want me to wash you first?” Frodo asked.

Merry paused, considering. Frodo had often washed him after they had made love, so that nobody would find out, before slipping back to his room. It had become another of their little routines, like with the oil, and how Frodo always opened his legs at what was exactly the right moment, and Merry had enjoyed his gentle touch, but now he realised wearily that he didn’t care who knew. Merry felt the wet stickiness on his chest and realised it was a part of Frodo, and he wanted to keep it there, at least until the morning. Merry took Frodo’s hand and led him to the bed. “No, I think we should stay as we are,” he said, giving Frodo a little kiss on the lips.

Merry climbed into bed and held Frodo close, Frodo’s back against his chest. Merry wrapped one arm around Frodo’s sticky belly, and hooked one leg around Frodo’s bent legs. He realised he had to let him go, but his body was belying the fact. His grip was like a vice and Frodo was pressed as close as possible against him as they both fell into a fitful sleep as the last of the embers turned grey and the room plunged into deeper and deeper darkness.

Soon, too soon, Frodo heard the sound of Bilbo’s wagon pulling up outside.

Merry still had his arm and leg around him, but his grip had loosened, and Frodo managed to get out of bed without waking him. Frodo looked at Merry lying in bed, sleeping, his curls spread out on the pillow. He looked so beautiful, enchanting even, and Frodo cried and felt panic rising within him as he realised he must leave him. He thought of waking him up, but realised it wouldn’t be fair, that it would be easier for Merry if he just slipped away while he slept.

He heard Bilbo getting out of the wagon, and he realised he had to be quick before he was discovered. With a heavy heart he took one final look at Merry as he closed the door quietly behind him. Frodo ran to his room as he heard Bilbo opening the door. He had just got inside and picked up his cases when he heard the door open. He wiped the tears from his eyes and took a case in each hand just as Bilbo opened the door to his room.

“Uncle Bilbo!” Frodo cried, dropping the cases and throwing his arms around him.

“Frodo my lad,” Bilbo said, as he took a step back and took the measure of him, “What a fine young hobbit you’re turning into. Just like your father at your age.”

Frodo smiled as Bilbo took his cases and lead them to the wagon, but inside he felt as if someone had thrust their hand deep inside his ribcage and pulled his heart right out.

Panic was welling inside him as he tried not to cry, and he wanted to turn around, to run back to Merry, to tell Bilbo that it had all been a mistake, that he wanted to stay at Brandybuck Hall with Merry.

Frodo stood as Bilbo loaded the wagon, the panic and fear and dread growing inside him, and with a heavy heart he glanced back at the still dark burrow,

“Er, Bilbo,” Frodo said, as Bilbo was just about to step into the wagon.

“Yes,” Bilbo said, and Frodo thought desperately of something, anything, to say.

“I think I left something in Merry’s room,” he said, and before Bilbo could stop him he was running as fast as he could back through the front door and through the winding passageways of Brandybuck Hall.

The earth floor was cold in the early morning beneath his bare feet, and Frodo could feel his heart beating hard in his chest.

He stopped as he eventually arrived at the door to Merry’s room. He stopped, feeling hot and out of breath, to calm himself, before turning the handle as quietly as he could.

Frodo stepped into the room and closed the door ever so quietly before him. The room was still warm from last night’s fire, and the very beginning of the early morning light was creeping through the edges of the curtains.

Frodo could just see Merry, still asleep, and being away from Bilbo’s watchful eye he could let out the tears that were welling up inside him.

Merry looked so peaceful, almost angelic, as he lay on his side with his arms out in front of him, one hand trailing over the edge of the bed. Frodo realised Merry hadn’t moved, and he wished he was still back in that space beneath his arms. Merry even had one leg forward, the top one was bent beneath the covers, exactly as he was when Frodo left him.

Frodo stepped across the room and, careful not to wake him, he gently stroked back the curls that were falling over Merry’s eyes.

Frodo bent down to place a kiss on his cheek, relishing the feel of his soft skin under his lips, and a tear rolled down his cheek and fell onto Merry’s.

Merry murmured in his sleep, and Frodo took his hand, the one that was lying outside the coverlet, in both of his.

He knelt down on his heels at the foot of the bed and gently stroked Merry’s cheek and his soft hair. Merry showed no sign of waking, and Frodo spent a good few minutes there by Merry’s side, until he felt calmer and ready to leave.

Frodo gave Merry one last kiss on the cheek and, determined not to look back or his heart would break, he left and closed the door behind him.

Frodo slowly walked back along the winding corridors that had become so familiar. He managed a smile as he saw Bilbo waiting in the wagon for him. His heart was still sinking as he climbed into the wagon next to Bilbo, but as Bilbo hugged him so warmly he realised how much he had missed him, and he dared to think of what new adventures he would have with Bilbo.

Bilbo set off along the road, and Frodo gazed back at Buckland as they drove slowly further and further away.

Frodo was sore inside, and he had bruised himself as he fell on the sheepskin rug. He felt as if he had pulled some muscles in his buttocks, and he could still feel Merry’s steely grip on his wrists, but he wanted to hang on to these small hurts, this last reminder of Merry. Frodo hadn’t washed, and he realised he must still be dirty on his belly, and as the soft breeze played over his feet, he could feel the ghost of Merry’s fingers there.

“Frodo,” Bilbo turned and asked as they crossed the border, “did you find what you wanted in Merry’s room?”

“No, Uncle,” Frodo said, sadly. I think I’ve lost it.”