A update and a vignette
I haven't posted in months, and I apologise for making myself so scarce. I'm still recovering from the huge breakdown I suffered last spring, and although I'm making good progress, I'm not what you could call healthy. I don't think I'd be able to work again this year, for example, and I didn't want to bore you with complaints or comparisons between antidepressants.:) But I feel like myself again, which is a relief, I can tell you! I started reading again, too (a MAJOR progress), and last week I even managed to write a short Frodo/Sam vignette.
It's situated sometime during the cleaning up of the Shire, but it's not exactly canon since I show Sam and Frodo working together, and Frodo being a lot healthier than he is, canonically speaking. I needed something hopeful, I guess. And anyway, everybody knows that Frodo and Sam lived happily ever after in the Shire, then continued doing the same over sea.;)
Title: Autumn cleaning
Pairing: Frodo/Sam
Rating: PG-13
Warning: vaguely AU, completely fluffy.
Autumn cleaning
Breathless, Frodo sat down on the trunk that served as a bench since the old one disappeared, probably in flames in one of Bag End chimneys. He put his sickle in the grass by his feet and wiped his sweaty brow with his shirtsleeve. The autumn sun was unusually strong, and he was still feeling a little under the weather after his latest bout of illness. Still, he had managed to work as hard as he was able for more than an hour, and he allowed himself a moment's rest, along with a moment of modest pride.
Of course, he was still unable to rival Sam in strength and stamina. But after all he never was, especially where gardening was concerned. He smiled to himself, admiring the graceful yet efficient way his gardener handled his sickle, swinging it with undefatigable regularity. The weeds, vines and brambles that had taken over Bag End fell obediently under Sam's blade, and Frodo could see the silhouette of the familiar garden starting to emerge from its green prison.
In a few precise strokes, Sam finished freeing the old fountain from its bindings of ivy and joined Frodo on the trunk; he sat down with a satisfied sigh and admired his handiwork.
"Well, I can't say we're done yet, but at least the garden doesn't look like a jungle any more. What do you think, Mr. Frodo?"
"I think... it looks a little like Ithilien", Frodo said dreamily. "Dishevelled, but still lovely. There's even a few yellow roses surviving on what left of the trellises, and the lavender and the mint are positively prosperous."
"You're right", Sam answered after a moment's reflection. "But there's a difference: it'll take years to have Ithilien restored to its original splendour, while I'm pretty sure that come spring this garden will be as beautiful as ever," Sam grinned, wrapping his arm around Frodo's shoulders. The contact of Sam's body felt so familiar and comforting that Frodo couldn't help but lean instinctively against him. Sam smelled of crushed mint and lavender and, not unpleasantly, of sap and sweat. His skin was deeply tanned, and the sun had bleached some of his blond curls nearly white.
He looked rather happy, Frodo thought; overworked and insanely busy, but happy nevertheless. Still, there's was a touch of uncertainty perceptible in Sam's eyes as they met Frodo's. And Frodo knew, without the shadow of a doubt, what was causing Sam's hesitation. He also knew he was the only one able to make it disappear. Transforming an inextricable chaos into a harmonious and civilized garden may be out of his range, but he knew how to restore Sam's serenity, at least for a little while. He nestled his face against Sam's neck and kissed him softly, just below the ear, where the skin was the softest. He felt Sam shudder, but the gardener stayed still and allowed Frodo's lips to drift along his blushing cheek, then, when they reached his mouth, to press themselves against his.
The kiss was tentative and tender; Sam was obviously waiting for Frodo's to take the lead, which wasn't a long time coming. He smiled against Sam's slightly chaffed lips, then gave them a delicate lick with the tip of his tongue. Sam sighed happily, wound his fingers in Frodo's dark curls and kissed him without restraint. When they reluctantly came up for air after a frantic exchange of kisses, each of them more heated than the other, they were both flushed and a little dizzy, and grinning from ear to ear.
Frodo was breathless once again, but this time he didn't feel the need to rest. He jumped to his feet and held out his hand to Sam.
"Well, Sam, I think the garden will have to wait a little longer. There's something more urgent that requires all your strength and stamina... I remember there's a very secluded spot behind the toolshed, and thank goodness it hasn't been cleaned yet...
It's situated sometime during the cleaning up of the Shire, but it's not exactly canon since I show Sam and Frodo working together, and Frodo being a lot healthier than he is, canonically speaking. I needed something hopeful, I guess. And anyway, everybody knows that Frodo and Sam lived happily ever after in the Shire, then continued doing the same over sea.;)
Title: Autumn cleaning
Pairing: Frodo/Sam
Rating: PG-13
Warning: vaguely AU, completely fluffy.
Autumn cleaning
Breathless, Frodo sat down on the trunk that served as a bench since the old one disappeared, probably in flames in one of Bag End chimneys. He put his sickle in the grass by his feet and wiped his sweaty brow with his shirtsleeve. The autumn sun was unusually strong, and he was still feeling a little under the weather after his latest bout of illness. Still, he had managed to work as hard as he was able for more than an hour, and he allowed himself a moment's rest, along with a moment of modest pride.
Of course, he was still unable to rival Sam in strength and stamina. But after all he never was, especially where gardening was concerned. He smiled to himself, admiring the graceful yet efficient way his gardener handled his sickle, swinging it with undefatigable regularity. The weeds, vines and brambles that had taken over Bag End fell obediently under Sam's blade, and Frodo could see the silhouette of the familiar garden starting to emerge from its green prison.
In a few precise strokes, Sam finished freeing the old fountain from its bindings of ivy and joined Frodo on the trunk; he sat down with a satisfied sigh and admired his handiwork.
"Well, I can't say we're done yet, but at least the garden doesn't look like a jungle any more. What do you think, Mr. Frodo?"
"I think... it looks a little like Ithilien", Frodo said dreamily. "Dishevelled, but still lovely. There's even a few yellow roses surviving on what left of the trellises, and the lavender and the mint are positively prosperous."
"You're right", Sam answered after a moment's reflection. "But there's a difference: it'll take years to have Ithilien restored to its original splendour, while I'm pretty sure that come spring this garden will be as beautiful as ever," Sam grinned, wrapping his arm around Frodo's shoulders. The contact of Sam's body felt so familiar and comforting that Frodo couldn't help but lean instinctively against him. Sam smelled of crushed mint and lavender and, not unpleasantly, of sap and sweat. His skin was deeply tanned, and the sun had bleached some of his blond curls nearly white.
He looked rather happy, Frodo thought; overworked and insanely busy, but happy nevertheless. Still, there's was a touch of uncertainty perceptible in Sam's eyes as they met Frodo's. And Frodo knew, without the shadow of a doubt, what was causing Sam's hesitation. He also knew he was the only one able to make it disappear. Transforming an inextricable chaos into a harmonious and civilized garden may be out of his range, but he knew how to restore Sam's serenity, at least for a little while. He nestled his face against Sam's neck and kissed him softly, just below the ear, where the skin was the softest. He felt Sam shudder, but the gardener stayed still and allowed Frodo's lips to drift along his blushing cheek, then, when they reached his mouth, to press themselves against his.
The kiss was tentative and tender; Sam was obviously waiting for Frodo's to take the lead, which wasn't a long time coming. He smiled against Sam's slightly chaffed lips, then gave them a delicate lick with the tip of his tongue. Sam sighed happily, wound his fingers in Frodo's dark curls and kissed him without restraint. When they reluctantly came up for air after a frantic exchange of kisses, each of them more heated than the other, they were both flushed and a little dizzy, and grinning from ear to ear.
Frodo was breathless once again, but this time he didn't feel the need to rest. He jumped to his feet and held out his hand to Sam.
"Well, Sam, I think the garden will have to wait a little longer. There's something more urgent that requires all your strength and stamina... I remember there's a very secluded spot behind the toolshed, and thank goodness it hasn't been cleaned yet...