Moonless nights.

Author: Indy Baggins
Disclaimer: I own no hobbits. I only make them play dirty games.

Many kisses for my lovely beta Zoe!!!

Sam walked through the drizzling rain. It was late September. The leaves were slowly starting to turn golden, the trees groaning under the weight of the harvest.

It was starting to feel chilly out and the rain had soaked his linen shirt and pants. The sun was slowly sinking over the horizon and that combined with the rain had made it grow dark quickly.

He had been working at the back of the gardens, spending the entire day picking the last of the pears and walnuts. Even though he was tired and could feel the fatigue of the hard day's work start to fall on his shoulders, he did not feel dissatisfied.

“Just say goodbye to Mr. Frodo and his cousins”, he thought. And then he could go home, Marigold was making her stew tonight. Warm pieces of the carrots from their little garden, some of his Gaffer's potatoes, some peas, and most importantly a rich meat sauce and pieces of beef to fill him right up...

He could almost taste it.

Mr. Frodo's cousins had been visiting for a few days now. He was glad of their coming; they seemed to make Frodo laugh again. But when that high-pitched laugh resonated through Bag-End, into the garden, Sam felt somewhat jealous.

Why wasn't he the one who could make Frodo laugh like that? He was Frodo's friend, he was sure of that, Frodo had told him that a few times. Every time was locked into his mind. But he would always be different to Merry and Pippin. They were Frodo’s kin, his family, and his equals. He was just the gardener, after all. Not that Frodo had ever said or hinted at having such thoughts. But Sam knew.

That deliberate look, when he whispered "You are my friend, Sam." And how slowly he had put his arms around him. How he had made Sam shiver all over. That was nothing like how he treated his cousins, carelessly hugging and kissing them all the time.

But between him and Frodo there always seemed to exist a line. “The line of proper behaviour”, Sam thought. And that line was not to be crossed.

He was at the back door of Bag-End now. He wondered whether it would be alright to go in, soaked like that and all. Maybe he could try to just find Frodo, and ask him quietly whether he needed anything from Hobbiton.

His feet stood for a moment on the mat, undecided. And then he opened the door and went in.

...............................

Earlier that day, Frodo, Merry and Pippin had been out too, but for a slightly less dutiful purpose. September was a good month for mushrooms, after all...

As soon as they had come home, in the late afternoon, Merry and Frodo had started expertly cooking them, while Pippin was send into the wine cellar to find them a nice bottle of wine.


"Do you think he got lost in there?" Merry asked, chopping the mushrooms on the counter into pieces like his life depended on it.

"No, I think he knows his way in there perfectly well." Frodo snickered. "The beer?"

"Oh...” Understanding and a smile dawned on Merry's face. "I'll see what I can do about that then,” he said laughingly, leaving Frodo alone to do the cooking.

Not that Frodo minded. He was so used to being alone, that company soon became a little too busy for his liking. Even if it were his two favourite cousins in the world.

He peeked out of the window; he hadn't seen Sam all afternoon.

Not that it was unusual, really. Whenever his cousins came over Sam seemed to distance himself somewhat.

He wondered whether Sam could really feel so committed to the rules of propriety, or whether it was something else... He had tried showing Sam that he was his best friend in every way he knew. He had hugged him close, and whispered: "Sam, you are such a good friend,” in his throaty voice. And still he had to let go.

He wondered if Sam had even a vague idea of what it was he really wanted. Most likely not, otherwise he would have resigned a long time ago. He could not ask him, he knew. The dutiful Sam would do anything for him if he asked him to. Even things the poor lad never knew existed.

His cousins had seen him grow sadder over the last months and were quite frankly in Bag-End right now because they wanted to know why. Frodo knew that too, but still he could not hide his gloomy mood.

Sam... With the broad shoulders and the golden hair. Sam, who had, out of the garden become his whole earth and sea, up to the stars. And Sam, in the garden, who had no idea of this at all.

"Frodo!"

"Mmmm?"

"You were staring out the window. Seeing elves again."

"Dear Pippin, I can assure you, I was not seeing elves. I was stirring our lovely mushrooms, while you were professionally emptying my wine cellar."

A grin spread across Pippin’s face, while he pulled a bottle of very strong wine from Bree from behind his back.

Merry appeared next to him, nursing a half-empty mug of beer near his lips.

"I'd say: Let's eat!"

A good many bites and drinks later, Merry leaned back against his seat, satisfied. He looked outside. The sun was descending, but not truly gone yet. The rain dripped against the kitchen window.

"So Pip, what do you say, was this afternoon tea or dinner?"

Pippin pretended to think.

"Mmm, an important question, Master Merry, an important question indeed..."

"I would say afternoon tea, because that would mean we’ll be getting diner later tonight." Merry cut in.

"Aye, but without any tea, you can't say it was afternoon tea Merry."

"Indeed, but..."

Frodo kept silent during all this. He thought of Sam, his sweet Sam. How he could rub those mushrooms all over his chest and then eat them, one by one, and...

"Pardon?"

He was certain they had asked him something, just a second ago.

Pippin had disappeared from the table. Frodo looked into Merry's serious face.

"How long ago is it you had sex, Frodo? Seriously?"

Frodo felt his cheeks redden, even though he was making an effort not to.

"Merry, this is not a subject I wish to discuss..."

"Ah, stop it Frodo! I know you’re heartbroken because you can't have him, and I know you would never think of asking someone else."

Suddenly Frodo heard someone appearing behind him.

It was Pippin.

Totally naked.
.................................................................................


Marigold was chopping the carrots with violence at odds with her silent nature.

She quickly dried her hands on her apron and dropped the carrots in the already boiling stew on the stove.

"Mari, what's wrong with you? You're not getting a fever are you? You look all red."

"No Daisy, don't worry. It's just the heat from the fire, that's all." She quickly smiled to prove it to her sister and then turned around, busying her hands with all the little chores she could find while waiting for her stew to be ready.

She was so nervous she could expect to drop every thing she took in her hands but she did not, speeding through her work.

“Tonight”, she thought. “Tonight...”

The idea brought little butterflies to her stomach.

Tonight...


..............................................................................


Frodo's mouth slightly dropped.

"Pippin, you are uh... nude."

And he was more than nude. In fact, he was a very aroused hobbit.

Frodo could not help but look at him and swallowed.

"What... is the meaning of this?" His voice was squeaky.

"We, my dear cousin Frodo..." Merry's voice sounded terribly proud.

Frodo feared the worst.

"Are going to make you have fun."

"Fun?" He knew he was repeating Merry's words but he did not care.

He felt his stomach tighten.

What exactly did they have in mind....?

Suddenly it dawned upon him.

“Oh my…”

Merry seemed to pick up on his confused state and looked him in the eyes.

"Frodo, you know we love you." Frodo nodded. Of course.

"And it’s not like we haven't done it before."

A good many of years ago, Frodo thought. And with considerably more wine in them than right now.

He nodded again.

"Well..."

And as he looked into Merry's eyes he knew it was true. He did want someone to love him. Even just for a bit. Desperately so.

He nodded.

Merry slowly put out his hand and stroked Frodo's face, leaning in a little closer. He let his legs stroke Frodo's; his hips touch Frodo's. He went deliberately slowly, letting Frodo feel the heat that was starting to build up in his body. And to evoke the reaction he knew was inside.

Frodo closed his eyes and his bottom lip trembled.

Seeing this as his sign Merry leaned in even closer, until he could feel Frodo's breath against his face. He could feel him swallow.

Then he slowly took that bottom lip between his lips and traced his tongue over it. He could feel Frodo relax as he deepened the kiss, trusting his tongue in that soft, warm mouth.

When he let go he could feel Frodo's gaze resonate in his dizzy head. And Pippin, standing next to him, who was tracing his tongue over his own lips, slowly wetting them.

He couldn't resist putting his hand on Pippin's side and pull him roughly closer. Ignoring Pip's arousal, he slid his hand up his body and softly pinched the nipple. Pippin flinched, and he could hear Frodo gasp behind him.

Sure that Frodo would appreciate a little show; he turned around and put Pippin in front of him. He let his hands wander over Pippin's body, rubbing the nipples, tracing vaguely around the arousal and all the while looking directly at Frodo.

His little show definitely had an effect as not only was Pippin moaning and leaning into the touch, but also Frodo was looking more flushed by the second.

He could feel Pippin's bare behind pressing at his crotch and started to feel very sorry for the fact that he was still wearing pants. If he could only open the buttons... than he wouldn't have to move...


....................................................................................


Marigold placed the plates on the table with a loud thud. She swiftly turned around to stir her stew a little bit more, it was almost done.

She looked out the small round kitchen window.

The sun was setting behind the hills, vaguely covered by the drizzling rain.

"Come on Sam", she thought. "It’s time for dinner."


......................................................................


Merry was trying furiously to open his trouser buttons, while stroking Pippin hard and fast. Frodo had opened his shirt buttons and was rhythmically stroking and pinching his own nipples, without taking his eyes off Merry or Pippin. Suddenly he seemed to come to himself

"Merry?" "Merry!"

"Hmm?"

"Let's take this into my bedroom."

"Oooh, yeah... sure..."

They made it in a fast, clumsy run, with various discarded pieces of clothing falling to the ground.

Finally they made it onto the bed.

....................................................................

Sam walked into the kitchen.

At the first glance it struck him that something strange was going on. Plates and half-empty glasses were left standing on the table. The chairs were not nicely put back, but left as in a hurry. Besides mushrooms, there hung a strange smell in the room. Sam could not quite identify what it was.

Suddenly he heard a sound erupting from the bedroom, it sounded like a moan.

Oh! If Frodo is in trouble! He felt his heart skip a beat at the thought and he sped towards the bedroom, leaving little puddles of water on the ground in his wake

When he was only a few steps away from the bedroom door, which was standing half-open, he heard the moaning again, this time much louder.

And now he could tell it was not through pain...

In one second he took it all in. The clothes scattered on the floor. The obvious noises coming from the half-opened bedroom door.

Frodo was in there. With a lass.


..........................................................


Pippin was lying on the bed in a very sultry way, fully naked and aroused, staring at Merry's and Frodo's attempts to get naked as fast as possible. Frodo was stripping off his pants as fast as he could, his shirt and waistcoat already lost somewhere along the way.

At any other time he might have laughed. But not now.

He could feel the blood beat in his ears; his body was white hot with arousal all over, although he had not done much more than watch. He finally got his trousers from his legs and kicked them away.

Pippin, in the meantime, had gone on a quest for the little bottle of oil he knew Frodo kept in his nightstand, retrieving it with a grin on his face.

Merry wanted to see that dizzying gaze of lust pointed towards him again, so he started teasing Frodo, moving his hands all over his body as he had done to Pippin, lingering at the nipples and lightly stroking his lower belly, always pulling his hand away the second before it would reach the place where Frodo most wanted it to be.

Pippin oiled up his fingers, unseen by the other two, and slipped behind Frodo.

Going for the teasing, gentle approach like Merry did had never been one of his strong points, so he just held Frodo from behind, gave him a quick kiss on the head and entered him with a thrust of his fingers.

Frodo gasped, immediately starting to move his body to the rhythm Pippin was setting, pounding his erection to Merry's side, hoping he would respond, touch him there.

"Aah!", he gasped.

He kept on thrusting against Merry's side, while Merry himself started expertly sucking Frodo's nipple, biting it, licking it.

Frodo cried out again. He knew it wouldn't take long before he would come, but he didn't care.


..................................................................


Sam, standing outside the bedroom door, had heard that cry very clearly. "No." he thought. "No, Sam, you can't watch, you can't..."

But he did.

He had wanted to see his master naked for so long now, that it seemed forever.
He wanted to see him cry and moan over some lass, and imagine it was him he was moaning about...

Sam stepped closer and peeked around the corner.


..................................................................

"Oh Merry", Frodo breathed. "I'm so close...touch me, please..."

Merry complied and started to move his hand around Frodo’s arousal, still light and teasing.

Frodo felt as if he was going to burst. Pippin could feel him tensing from behind, and added one more finger.

In a final thrust Frodo cried out loud and climaxed, sending spurts of hot white seed onto Merry's hand and legs.

..............................................................

Sam immediately stepped back, until he was with his back to the wall, shocked and out of breath.

His heart was hammering.

His eyes still held the image they had seen a few seconds before.
The image both beautiful and terrible. Frodo... and Merry...and Pippin.

Sam felt the cold sweat pearl on his brow. This was...

There were no words for what he just had seen.


.......................................................


Frodo collapsed to the floor with a thud, a small smile on his face. Pippin and Merry both looked at him lovingly and pulled him on the bed.

"Told you you were going to have fun." Merry whispered in his ear.

Frodo giggled his famous laugh:

"You’ll pay for this one, Meriadoc Brandybuck!" and he started to tickle him.

Pippin, always an eager participant, straddled Merry and started tickling his armpits furiously. But soon his tickling turned to expert strokes of his fingers and nails over Merry's body, leaving a trail of red lines on his white skin.

Frodo was lying flat on the bed, and couldn't help but look at his two cousins in adoration.

From where he was laying, he could see them from the side.
Merry's golden curls and the sweat on his brow.
How he pressed his lips together in a wordless cry for more.

Pippin, who was still straddling him and moving slowly, with a concentrated look on his face.

Frodo was mesmerized by their slow movement, and lost himself for a second, just staring at them.

Starting, he moved forwards and slowly started tracing kisses over Pippin's back, who seemed vaguely surprised. He turned around over Merry, who made a vague muffled sound, and looked Frodo in the face. Sitting on Merry's belly, and, as Frodo suspected half squeezing him to death, Pippin gave Frodo a kiss that blew his mind away. Then he grabbed Frodo's hand and placed it, together with his own, on Merry's erection.

They could hear a vague “ooh” sound as they started stroking him, slowly, together.
.....................................................


Marigold put her stew on the table and started serving it.

Her gaffer lowered himself with a sigh in his chair, and started eating, murmuring some approving sounds.

“That’s all the thanks a lass gets here”, Marigold thought sadly. She loved her gaffer, no doubt about that, but sometimes she would have liked to be thanked for what she did.

"Is Samwise still up the hill?"

"Aye Da" Daisy replied.

Somehow Marigold felt as if she should defend him and added: "I reckon he's working late for Mr. Baggins and his cousins."

"Mmm" the gaffer murmured. It was the kind of sound that could mean anything. Marigold was raised on it. She knew her gaffer kept a steady position between being angry with Sam for coming home late, and being proud at him for working hard. As a result of this he never seemed to admit to any emotion at all.

She felt a quick butterfly in her stomach. Maybe this was Sam's night too?
She knew for sure that Sam was in love with Frodo, even though he had never told her. Neither had she ever told him about her own love...

She made a mental note to ruffle up Sam's sheets if he didn't showed up before bedtime. You never knew... and she was sure her brother was too much with his head in the clouds to think of such a thing...

..................................................................................................


Sam was still standing with his back against the wall, torn between emotions.

He wanted to run away. He should run away. If he did, he could come back tomorrow and pretend this had never happened. He could pretend he had never seen Frodo cry out in passion, so lovely...

Or, he could stay.

The thought of it drummed through his body, on the rhythm of his heartbeat and was almost overwhelming.

He could stay; there was a strong chance they would never know he was there. He could stay, and see Frodo like this, even if it was only once, he could let his mind wander and pretend it was him...

Plus, even though he would not admit it to himself, he was slightly curious about what would happen next. His mind made up, he took a step closer to the door.

“Samwise, you fool,” he thought.

And then he took another step and looked in again.

........................................................................................


Pippin had gotten up from almost killing a nevertheless grateful Merry, and had turned his attention to Frodo.

Determined to show his cousin a good time, he started suckling Frodo's nipples, stroking his erection and even slapping his behind at one point, which made Frodo look very strangely at him.

Finally Merry plucked the forgotten bottle from between the messed up sheets and whispered: "How do you want it, Frodo?"

"Take me. Take me hard. We're not going to leave poor Pip out, are we?"

Pippin was sitting at the side of the bed with blushing cheeks and sparkling eyes and seemed indeed too beautifully aroused to be left out.

Frodo pulled him down for a heartbreaking kiss and held him down on the bed, while he blindly grabbed for the bottle. He took some oil on his own fingers and his erection, and then handed the bottle to Merry, who looked both interested and doubtful.

Frodo's voice was hoarse. "Pippin, do you want me?"

Pippin lay down almost trembling with anticipation, grabbing Frodo and pulling him closer as an answer. Frodo knew he was trembling too.

It was indeed a very long time ago he had done this, and an even longer time since he had done this without a serious amount of alcohol in his system.

He took a deep breath and entered Pippin slowly, firstly with his fingers and then his cock. The heat felt both strange and familiar at once and he almost lost himself in the feeling, tensing when Merry put his fingers under him to stretch him slowly.

There was a calm love in it that made Frodo feel as if this was eternal. As if, kept between his two cousins forever, he would never feel anything but this again.


........................................................................

There was a reason why Marigold made her stew on nights like this. Right after she cleared the table, her gaffer got up to smoke some pipeweed, and soon went to his room for the night. Daisy seemed to be tired by the hot; filling meal too as she went to the room she shared with her sister, leaving the door open for Marigold to follow.

She looked outside. It was totally dark now. Little chance of Sam really working this late. So she pretended she had forgotten something, entered Sam's room, ruffled up the sheets and closed the door behind her.

Then she proceeded on to the room she shared with Daisy, putting her nightgown over her dress and disappearing under the covers so quickly her sister could not suspect anything.

Then the long waiting began.

She looked at the window, how the slow drops of drizzling rain fell against it, barely visible in the dark, and traced slow lines down.

She had no trouble staying awake now. She could feel her heart racing and her legs trembling at the thought what would happen if she got caught.

But, she could also feel her stomach tighten in anticipation and she smiled dreamily at the window until she was sure enough time had passed. She could vaguely hear the Gaffer's snores erupting from his room, mingling with Daisy's soft breathing.

She got up, carefully, so as not to squeak her bed or make any sound. She slipped out of her nightgown and put it on her bed.

Then she opened the window, and, fearfully listening for any sound, crawled through it.


............................................................................

Merry entered Frodo with a low moan.
Frodo tensed for a moment in pain, and then let his breath out in a soft sigh. As soon he started moving, he realized this was more difficult than he had imagined and felt slightly silly for even suggesting it.

But Merry steadied him and held onto him tightly while Frodo moved in and out of Pippin in slow, deliberate strokes.

He felt as if this would last forever. And softly, slowly, felt the heat starting to boil under his skin.

..............................................................


Marigold walked through the mild rain with a deliberate step. She had taken this path many times before and hoped she could do it many times again before she got caught .

She hurried, even though she knew she had most of the night before she had to be back.

Her feet slipped in the grass as she ran the last part towards the farm. She stopped, and softly sneaked the last meters, making sure she didn't make a sound.

When she, scarcely audible, knocked at the window, it opened immediately.

Warm arms pulled her in and held her tight. A whispering: "I’ve missed you". Marigold smiled brightly. Here was where she belonged.


...................................................................

Frodo felt the heat boil under his skin, flush over his face and body and settle near his stomach. His breathing was faster and although he still moved slowly he knew he would come soon

This was a pure battle of willpower, but one he wanted so badly, he needed it to last forever. He could feel Merry's cries behind him. He could feel him filling him with a delicious heat. He could see into Pippin's eyes, round and shining in his flushed face.

He could see those eyes close and Pippin’s mouth cry out in a wordless plea.

And it all seemed as if it was in a dream.

Slowly, he could feel as if he was flying higher and higher, but between his cousins he was not afraid to lose himself. No, they would hold him. He went higher and higher, up to the sky...

And suddenly, with a scream, he came.


..........................................................


Sam was standing behind the door, locked up in his fantasy, played for him in front of his eyes.

He could see Frodo tensing, and tensed in response.

He could hear Merry and Pippin crying, but their cries meant nothing to him.

The only thing he heard was Frodo.

And when he cried out, Sam did too, white seed gushing over his hand.

.................................................................


Frodo fell back on the bed, sweating and shivering. He was still tangled up in between his cousins and refused to let go. There were tears in his eyes.

They held him and rocked him, as he started to cry more desperately. Suddenly he looked up with his deep blue eyes, wet and shining from the tears. "What will I do? He does not love me..."

Merry looked at him and whispered: "You don’t know that Frodo. He is your gardener; he probably doesn’t dare to ask you."

Frodo sighed. "Thank you."

Merry was not sure for what he was being thanked, but kissed him slowly in return anyway.

Pippin curled up like a cat next to Frodo, and Merry held them both, a dreamy smile upon his face.

“It's like holding my entire world”, Merry thought, before he fell asleep.


.......................................................


Sam backed away from the door once again, startled, and made a bolt for the back door, not looking back.

Once he was in the garden, he washed his hand with water from the well and then he sprinkled his face.

It didn’t help, the images he had seen were burned upon his inner eye, replaying themselves over and over.

The voice he had heard, Frodo’s voice, sounding broken, torn apart.

And then Merry said it was about the gardener.

About him.

He stood in the garden, not knowing what to do.


..............................................


"I’ve missed you too, my Rose-dear."

Marigold said no more, but just hugged Rose tight.

"You’re cold."

"It's raining outside."

"I'll hold you."

Rose softly unclasped Marigold's cloak, and hung it on a chair, then her knowing fingers rubbed Marigold's arms and shoulders warm until they blushed in pleasure.

When she dropped her robe to the hard wooden floor, Marigold felt speechless. Rose was naked, her soft skin lit by the light of a single candle. Her golden curls made a halo around her head, making her seem more angel than lass.

But that moment passed as fast as it had come and Marigold felt the desire rush in her veins.

"Rose?"

"Yes?"

"Love me."

Rose didn't answer. But she moved closer.

Marigold undid the laces of her dress. Slowly she stepped out of it, and then deliberately let it fall to the floor.

Rose circled her from behind and undid the laces of her bodice.

Standing naked now too, Marigold could feel her heart beating under her skin. She shivered for a moment as a gust of wind reached her and she could feel her body tense.

“The first touch”, she thought. The first touch always was the sweetest.

She stepped closer, until there was nothing between them but skin. And still she did not touch. Not truly, until her lips touched Rose's with a loving stroke. Until her tongue wetted Rose's lips and turned them a deep shade of red.

The kiss grew deeper and they walked over to the bed. This was what she had been waiting for all day...


................................................................

Sam walked down the hill in the chilly rain, distractedly putting one foot in front of the other. In all his days, he had never thought he would have seen this...
Frodo sleeping with a lass was one thing; he could maybe have lived with that. He could even have been happy for Frodo, he told himself.

But Frodo and his cousins... It was the most sensual and exciting thing he had ever seen, and at the same time he felt a sting in his heart, knowing that now he had seen this he would never go back to being just Sam again.

Now he was Sam who had seen what could be done, and he felt that knowledge stick to his body like a permanent mark.

The gardener... He was the gardener...

............................................................


Rose laid Marigold down on the bed, gazing at her lovingly.

She put a soft kiss on Marigold's mouth and travelled lower with her hands, stroking Mari's breast, until she put her mouth over one of the nipples and suckled. Marigold tensed and cried out.

”The first touch”, Marigold thought, “The first touch...”

And then her mind went blank as Rose trailed her fingers over her belly and down.


.......................................................


As Sam reached the house, he realized that going through the door would wake up his Gaffer and give rise to some annoying questions. He stood still, considering his options, when he saw that the girl's window was open.

Holding in his belly he made it through, trying to be as silent as possible.

At any other time he would have noticed the empty bed at once. But he was still with his own thoughts, up the hill, in Bag-End.

When he made it to his own room, the bed seemed strangely cold and grey to him. He did not want to lie down in it, alone. He sat on the edge, lost in floods of dream and reality. He almost wanted to let himself believe it had all been a dream. Just a dream. So he could get up the following morning as if nothing had happened.

But it had happened.

The question was, what could he do about it?

For a second his mind tormented him with the vision he had relished so much earlier, that had made him come, uttering cries of love for the person he was only making love to in his mind. But this time for real. Could he have Frodo? Oh, could he... ?


..............................................................

Marigold cried and tensed as she felt Rose's fingers enter her. As Rose's mouth was still playing with Marigold's nipples, and her fingers pulsating in her body, she felt as if she was set on fire.

"Oh Rose, hold me!" she screamed and her breath hitched when she felt the young, soft body collide with hers.

"Rose, oh...Rose..."

...........................................................................................

Sam could not take it anymore. The small space of the room made him feel as a caged animal, roaming back and forth in the hope to either see freedom, or die trying. The feelings in his heart matched. He got up again, and suddenly noticed his sheets were ruffled. He wondered whether he had slept, and this just had been some fiend-like image of Frodo that was stuck in his mind.

He opened the door, and, not caring who he woke, went back out.

..........................................


"Did you enjoy that, my dear flower?"

Marigold giggled and blushed. "You know I did."

"Good," Rose giggled back.

Then Marigold turned around and started tracing her fingers over Rose's body.

Rose's breath was hot in her ear.

She whispered: "Hold me Mari, make me warm and shivering all over again."

"I will."

...........................................................

When Sam walked up the hill again, he had no idea what he was doing. When he stood in front of the house, he realized he could not sneak in again. They would surely hear him now they were no longer pre-occupied.

So he walked to the side, in-between his own flowerbeds, and sneaked a look in Frodo's room.

.................................................

When Marigold crawled back out of Rose’s window, her whole body felt as if it was on fire. Her cheeks were blushing, and the rain felt cool as it fell with small drops on her face.

She smiled one more time at her sweet Rose, sad now, and turned around.

This was it. This was why she lived. And there was none who even saw her joy. No-one who she could share it with.

“Maybe Sam”, she thought. “Maybe he found Frodo tonight...”


..............................................

Frodo had closed his eyes and had slept for a short time, relishing the warmth and love that flooded through his body. He had forgotten how good this could feel.

But he felt something nagging at his heart. His cousins had done this for him, with him, but if he wanted to have this kind of happiness again he was going to have to make it himself.

“Sam”, he thought. “Sweet Sam, where are you?” And for a moment the image fleeted over his eye, but not of Merry who was holding him from behind, making him cry out in hurt, love, passion, all at once... no. It was Sam. Beautiful Sam...

He felt a compulsion in his heart, as if it had never before beaten as it did now. The loud thuds seemed to say, “Sam, Sam”. And surely, this was his imagination. A fantasy, brought on by his unusual occupation this evening. But he did not care. He felt a warmth rise in his body. Slowly, careful not to wake his cousins, he got up.

As soon as Frodo was gone, Merry groaned and rolled closer to Pippin, hugging him from behind and tangling their legs together. The view was so loving and pure that Frodo almost felt sorry he had ever lain between them. He felt a tear well up, and quickly averted his gaze. He looked out the window, and started, suppressing a cry.

...............................................................


Sam immediately ran back from the window, almost tripping over his rosebushes. He had expected to see them all sleeping. Or at least to see that they had gotten up to eat a bite. Instead he had looked directly into the face of a very shocked looking, very naked Frodo.

“Oh no,” he thought. “Maybe he just thinks it was a dream. Oh no...”

...............................................................


When Marigold made it back to Bag Shot Row, her hair was dripping wet, strings sticking against her face. She felt cold now and just wanted to be back in her bed, so she could dream about her sweet Rose, and how their night together had been...

When she stood before her window, she felt a cold white fear clench around her heart. It was closed.

That meant somebody had gotten up. That meant somebody had found out...

She could feel her heart racing. What would she do? She could take the door and the risk of waking somebody, but that the window was closed meant somebody knew...

The tears started welling up in her eyes.

She looked in the direction of the hill, wondering where Sam was. Did he ever come home?

And in that second she saw a flash of light, like a door opening, and then darkness again.

What if Sam was there? She knew she shouldn't, but curiosity got the better of her and she turned around and started walking up the hill. She would worry about the Gaffer later.


.....................................................


”Maybe it was just a dream,” Frodo tried to tell himself. Maybe he had just seen the image he had wanted to see. After all, he had been thinking of Sam, it was late at night, he was very distracted, but that wasn’t the point.

He had seen something, he was sure.

He picked pants and a shirt from the floor, not bothering with underwear or checking whose clothes they were and hauled them on.

He ran over the cold floor of Bag End and raced towards the door.


................................................

Sam stood still, transfixed on the space between his rosebushes and the path leading from the door to the little fence. He felt cold sweat pearling on his brow, and his heart beating fast. Was Frodo coming out here? What would he say?


................................................


Frodo threw the door open and gazed straight into the very guilty looking eyes of his gardener.

"Sam..."

He could have asked him a thousand questions, but he didn't. Instead he looked at Sam, who looked truly upset.

Frodo wondered whether something was wrong. There must be, for Sam to come and find him in the middle of the night. “And see me all naked”, Frodo added in his mind. No wonder the lad was upset.

"Sam? What’s wrong? What’s happened?"


..........................................................


What happened?

What could he say? “I saw you and your cousins earlier today and I thought, well, maybe we could...”

He was sure that would not be a good thing to say.

"Nothing’s wrong."

"Nothing...?" Frodo looked at him questioning.

"Nothing, sir. I just thought I would come up here and..."

And what? Now he actually had to say the words, he couldn’t.

"Check whether everything was alright." He felt like he was breaking inside.

"Goodnight sir." The hurt must have crawled into his words, for Frodo kept on staring at him.

Then he sighed, and he was about to say something, when they heard someone open the little fence and step towards them.

..............................................


When Marigold walked up the hill she felt vaguely guilty.

What if Sam wasn’t where she thought he would be?

But she knew Sam would keep her secret. Even if it was only for the fact that she would keep his.

She felt relieved when she saw the two figures standing in the garden. So she had been right. She opened the gate and walked up to them, only to find Frodo and Sam standing rather awkwardly on the path, staring at each other.

"Sam?"

"Mari?" Her brother looked more startled than he had done that time he had accidentally set fire to the Gaffers potatoes. She wondered what had happened.

She took a quick glance at Frodo, and saw he looked even worse. Not to mention half-dressed.

Intrigued, she looked from one to the other. Sam, her own brother, seemed not to notice the fact that she had been wandering around in the middle of the night. They didn't seem to be in a fight, more... She searched her memory for when she had felt like this. Could it be? Could it be that they hadn't told each other yet?

Feeling bold, she decided to find out right here and now.

"Sam, have you ever told Mr. Frodo that you love him? It might be a good idea, you know."

When she saw her brother go from pale, to bright red, to pale again in a few seconds, she knew she had been right. She only hoped she had done the right thing.

"You two talk it out, and I'll see you at breakfast," she added in a happy voice. She turned around and walked down the hill. So, that was settled too.


...................................................................

Sam was in a state beyond terrified. What had she said? How could she? He didn't dare to look Frodo in the eye, so he just looked at his feet and tried to murmur an apology.

...............................................................


Frodo was not put off so fast though. In fact, now he had heard Marigold say those words he felt a bright warm feeling start to grow all through his body. So Sam loved him?

He moved closer towards those broad shoulder, and warm eyes, and held their gaze for a frighteningly long second before he was sure there was love in them. Love.

So, he leaned over and kissed his gardener.

His gardener, against all rules of propriety and with a million reasons not to do so, but he did it anyway.

.......................................................


Merry and Pippin were looking from the window, big grins on their faces.

Pippin laughed.

"You know what this means"

"What?"

"Foursomes."