FIC: Tea-time // Frodo/Sam // PG-ish // for elgato_gamgins
Recipient: elgato_gamgins
Author: littlemimm
Title: Tea-time
Pairing: Frodo/Sam
Rating: Light PG for a kiss
Word count: 2,000+
Disclaimer: All Tolkien's, not mine. I merely borrow them for entertainment purposes.
Summary: A mistletoe on Frodo's doorstep and a kiss. However, not the way one would originally imagine.
Author's notes: Written for elgato_gamgins for lotr_sesa 2006. One of her requests was for Frodo/Sam, "something very romantic". I hope this will do. :)
Tea-time
When Frodo stepped outside in the cold air, there was something on his doorstep, and at a closer inspection he noticed it to be a handful of mistletoe sprigs. It was the only thing there; there were no notes attached to it, no indication of who had left them here. Had there not been messy footprints around the doorway, Frodo would have thought that the mistletoe had fallen from the skies.
He picked it up, turning it around and smelling it. No, there was nothing particularly special about it. Looking around, he tried to see if the culprit would still be close by, but it did not seem that way. Shrugging, he put the mistletoe in his pocket and closed the door.
* * *
Frodo did not so much see as hear Sam come his way. The young man was talking to himself, but Frodo did not hear the exact words; he could only hear the name "Old Gaffer" repeated every now and then. Sam seemed nervous and rather distracted by something.
"Hallo, Sam," Frodo said when Sam appeared from behind a snow-covered rowan tree. The tree still bore a handful of bright orange berries on its branches, making the otherwise dull view seem a little more colourful.
"Mr Frodo, good morrow, sir," Sam said and bowed down to him quickly. Frodo had hoped to himself for a while now that Sam would stop doing that, because it made him feel much too old and much more formal than he really wanted to. Whether or not Sam was his gardener, Frodo also considered him his friend. Perhaps even more than that.
He mentioned the friendship part to Sam.
"There is no need for you to call me that," he said, smiling warmly. At once, Sam's cheeks reddened.
"My apologies, Mist... I mean, Frodo."
It was clear that the name did not come easily for Sam, but Frodo thought it a good start.
"What is it, Sam?" Frodo asked. "You seem distraught."
"Oh, nothing, sir. What I mean is... It's nothing that you should need to worry about."
Frodo's gaze stopped on Sam's hand, where there was something green. He could have sworn it was a mistletoe branch, just like the one he had found on his doorstep.
"What is that?" he asked, nodding towards the small sprig.
Sam followed his gaze.
"This? I thought I'd go to Rosie and bring her this. She likes pretty things."
Something about Sam's hesitant way of speaking told Frodo that Sam was not telling the whole truth, but he decided not to ask any further questions. It seemed Sam was already feeling nervous as it was. There was no reason to be cruel.
"I do hope she likes it," he said.
"Yes, sir, so do I," Sam said, sounding enthusiastic. "Like Old Gaffer says, bringing presents to ladies is... Well, I can't remember what exactly, but something good."
Frodo smiled at him.
"I'm sure."
"I think I should go," Sam said awkwardly, looking around. Frodo looked around as well, but he could not see anything out of the ordinary. There were people further away from them, walking around and talking in small groups, carrying boxes and baskets.
"Good luck," he said to Sam, who sighed in relief. Mumbling something to himself, his eyes focused on the ground, he quickly walked away.
Frodo shook his head.
* * *
The next time Frodo met Rosie, he asked about Sam and the mistletoe. He did not find it surprising that Rosie looked at him with bewilderment, saying that she had no idea what he was talking about.
"Nothing important," he said, but she did not seem to believe him. "I fear I may have ruined a nice surprise," he continued.
Rosie's expression softened.
"I will tell nothing if you won't," she said, and he smiled.
"Good."
* * *
Almost three days passed until Frodo saw Sam again, and it was only because Frodo went to Sam's place to see him. He was sitting on his knees, several empty pots in front of him on the ground.
"How are they?" Frodo asked him, and Sam turned around, startled.
"What are? Oh, yes, they are fine, sir. Just cleaning them up a bit. For spring, you see."
Frodo nodded.
"Sam," he said. "Rosie never got the mistletoe."
Sam blushed, looking guilty, and turned his face down.
"I don't..." he began but did not continue.
"You should bring them to her, so she won't be disappointed. She already knows to expect them."
"She does?" Sam looked up at him with his eyes wide. "How could she... Oh, you told her."
Frodo laughed. "It's hardly the end of the world, Sam. Bring her the mistletoe. She will look surprised and things will be fine."
Sam bit his lip absentmindedly, then stood up from the snowy ground. His breeches had wet spots on the knees.
"Sir?" he began.
"Sam, I told you earlier that you needn't call me that."
"Yes, sir, but have you any idea how difficult it is to not call you... sir." Sam frowned a little at his own words, and smirked. "Sorry."
Sam seemed to ponder something for a while, because he was looking past Frodo and had that certain empty look in his eyes. Then he turned his gaze to Frodo and focused on him.
"Did you like the mistletoe?" he said quickly, mashing the words into each other.
Ah, so Frodo had indeed been right about the mysterious mistletoe.
"It was from you?" he said, raising his brows. There was no reason for him to embarrass Sam any further. He would let the young man keep his dignity.
"I thought you would like it, with Yule on its way and everything," Sam said. "It's from my that tree, see." Sam waved his hand in a direction where Frodo could see the said tree. "It makes good tea."
Frodo nodded. "Thank you. But why didn't you simply give it to me in person?"
"Well, I, sir, I wanted it to be a surprise. A present, if you will."
"I appreciate it, Sam. I hope you will join me for a cup tomorrow."
Sam stared at him in mild shock.
"Of course, Mister Frodo. I would love to."
"Good. I look forward to it."
* * *
Sam was covered in snow when he stepped inside. His cheeks were red, his eyes glinting, and he had a wide smile on his face. It was an expression of such joy that Frodo could not help but answer it with a smile of his own.
"I thought I would bring something," Sam said when he offered a little basket to Frodo and started taking off his coat. The insides of the basket smelled wonderful. There were scones and buns and bread, all of them still warm despite the cold weather.
"Thank you, Sam," Frodo said, leading them further inside.
"I will make the tea," Sam said, standing a little shy next to the stove. "Just give me the mistletoe and a kettle and it'll be ready in no time."
Frodo brought them to him, and Sam started chopping up the leaves. "Could you give me some honey, sir," he said without turning around, and Frodo smiled to himself, picking up the honey jar from a shelf.
Sam had an expression of heavy concentration on his face as he put the leaves to boil. Soon the smell of the tea spread through the air, and Frodo realized he was hungry. He picked up one bun from the basket, dipped a spoon into the honey and spread the honey on the bun. It tasted delicious.
Sam slapped him on his hand, then looked shocked at having done it.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that. It's just that you aren't supposed to be eating that yet. Wait for the tea first."
Frodo put the bun back on the table. He could wait for Sam's tea to be ready if it really meant that much to him.
* * *
It was not enough that the buns were delicious -- Sam's mistletoe tea was even better. Frodo drank it in long gulps, followed by honeyed scones and other biscuits. On top of it all, Sam was there with him. He could not imagine a better way to spend a wintry evening, and he said this to Sam.
"I'm glad you like it," Sam said, grinning. "I wasn't sure I could still make it. Of course, this here makes it even better." Sam held a dark little bottle in his hand. "Old Gaffer says there's nothing quite like spiced up mistletoe tea."
Well, that would explain why Frodo was feeling so happy and relaxed right now. Frodo put his cup aside, then looked at Sam in the eye. Now was as good a time as ever.
"Sam," he began. "I wanted to ask you about a certain thing."
Sam looked like he was ready for a lecture. There was certainly not going to be one, but he did not know it yet.
"How much do you like Rosie?"
Sam's jaw dropped a little before he closed his mouth.
"She's the most beautiful lass I have ever laid my eyes on," he said with a serious face and Frodo believed him.
"But I'm not sure if she'll have me," Sam finished, dropping his gaze on the table.
"Of course she will," Frodo said, and he could feel the situation was not going exactly the way he would have wanted it to.
"You are a nice lad, you have friendly-looking eyes and you are the best friend a Hobbit could ever have."
Sam looked up at him, with an expression of disbelief, and then he blushed a little.
"Mister Frodo, it's not nice to joke about such things."
"Why would I joke about that? You are Sam, my Sam, and whatever I say about is true."
"Your Sam?"
Frodo felt that he might have gone a little too far, but there was no turning back now. The warmth from the tea was still making him feel peaceful and a little bold.
"Yes, you are my Sam, and there can be no other Sam for me. Nor any other Hobbit for that matter."
Sam's eyes were wide and he nearly dropped his cup on the floor. Before he could do any damage, Frodo stood up and walked to Sam. He reached out to touch Sam's face; his cheek was warm under Frodo's fingers, almost as warm as Frodo was feeling inside. After a small caress, he let his hand fall.
"Why did you do that, sir?" Sam asked.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. I just wanted to touch you."
"No, I meant why did you stop it?"
Frodo was not sure he could believe what he was hearing. Did Sam really say..?
"You want me to continue?" he asked, frowning a little.
"Yes," Sam said, then stood up until they were standing face to face, almost touching each other. "I liked it."
Frodo raised his hand and touched Sam's chin with his thumb. He looked Sam in the eyes, wondering what went on in Sam's mind, but all he could see were a pair of brown eyes that were looking into his, and their expression was warm.
Frodo closed his eyes and carefully leaned further, and he gave Sam a light kiss on his mouth. When he opened his eyes, he saw that Sam's eyes were tightly shut. Frodo smiled, then chuckled.
"Is it that painful?" he asked, and Sam opened his eyes. Frodo kissed him again, now letting Sam get used to the touch of his lips. It took a while, but soon Sam opened his mouth a little and kissed back, making a small sound of pleasure that encouraged Frodo to go even further. When their tongues met, Frodo could hardly believe it. He was kissing Sam. He was finally kissing this young Hobbit who had grown up into a fine young man.
He broke the kiss and looked at Sam. Sam looked as happy as Frodo felt.
"Mister Frodo, if you kiss like that then I never want to see Rosie again."
Frodo laughed.
"I told you, don't call me that. At least not now. Right now I only want to be Frodo to you."
Sam seemed to think about it for a while, then he nodded.
"If I am your Sam, then that makes you my Frodo."
Frodo smiled at him, at his glinting eyes and his reddened cheeks.
"Sounds lovely."
--The End--
Author: littlemimm
Title: Tea-time
Pairing: Frodo/Sam
Rating: Light PG for a kiss
Word count: 2,000+
Disclaimer: All Tolkien's, not mine. I merely borrow them for entertainment purposes.
Summary: A mistletoe on Frodo's doorstep and a kiss. However, not the way one would originally imagine.
Author's notes: Written for elgato_gamgins for lotr_sesa 2006. One of her requests was for Frodo/Sam, "something very romantic". I hope this will do. :)
Tea-time
When Frodo stepped outside in the cold air, there was something on his doorstep, and at a closer inspection he noticed it to be a handful of mistletoe sprigs. It was the only thing there; there were no notes attached to it, no indication of who had left them here. Had there not been messy footprints around the doorway, Frodo would have thought that the mistletoe had fallen from the skies.
He picked it up, turning it around and smelling it. No, there was nothing particularly special about it. Looking around, he tried to see if the culprit would still be close by, but it did not seem that way. Shrugging, he put the mistletoe in his pocket and closed the door.
* * *
Frodo did not so much see as hear Sam come his way. The young man was talking to himself, but Frodo did not hear the exact words; he could only hear the name "Old Gaffer" repeated every now and then. Sam seemed nervous and rather distracted by something.
"Hallo, Sam," Frodo said when Sam appeared from behind a snow-covered rowan tree. The tree still bore a handful of bright orange berries on its branches, making the otherwise dull view seem a little more colourful.
"Mr Frodo, good morrow, sir," Sam said and bowed down to him quickly. Frodo had hoped to himself for a while now that Sam would stop doing that, because it made him feel much too old and much more formal than he really wanted to. Whether or not Sam was his gardener, Frodo also considered him his friend. Perhaps even more than that.
He mentioned the friendship part to Sam.
"There is no need for you to call me that," he said, smiling warmly. At once, Sam's cheeks reddened.
"My apologies, Mist... I mean, Frodo."
It was clear that the name did not come easily for Sam, but Frodo thought it a good start.
"What is it, Sam?" Frodo asked. "You seem distraught."
"Oh, nothing, sir. What I mean is... It's nothing that you should need to worry about."
Frodo's gaze stopped on Sam's hand, where there was something green. He could have sworn it was a mistletoe branch, just like the one he had found on his doorstep.
"What is that?" he asked, nodding towards the small sprig.
Sam followed his gaze.
"This? I thought I'd go to Rosie and bring her this. She likes pretty things."
Something about Sam's hesitant way of speaking told Frodo that Sam was not telling the whole truth, but he decided not to ask any further questions. It seemed Sam was already feeling nervous as it was. There was no reason to be cruel.
"I do hope she likes it," he said.
"Yes, sir, so do I," Sam said, sounding enthusiastic. "Like Old Gaffer says, bringing presents to ladies is... Well, I can't remember what exactly, but something good."
Frodo smiled at him.
"I'm sure."
"I think I should go," Sam said awkwardly, looking around. Frodo looked around as well, but he could not see anything out of the ordinary. There were people further away from them, walking around and talking in small groups, carrying boxes and baskets.
"Good luck," he said to Sam, who sighed in relief. Mumbling something to himself, his eyes focused on the ground, he quickly walked away.
Frodo shook his head.
* * *
The next time Frodo met Rosie, he asked about Sam and the mistletoe. He did not find it surprising that Rosie looked at him with bewilderment, saying that she had no idea what he was talking about.
"Nothing important," he said, but she did not seem to believe him. "I fear I may have ruined a nice surprise," he continued.
Rosie's expression softened.
"I will tell nothing if you won't," she said, and he smiled.
"Good."
* * *
Almost three days passed until Frodo saw Sam again, and it was only because Frodo went to Sam's place to see him. He was sitting on his knees, several empty pots in front of him on the ground.
"How are they?" Frodo asked him, and Sam turned around, startled.
"What are? Oh, yes, they are fine, sir. Just cleaning them up a bit. For spring, you see."
Frodo nodded.
"Sam," he said. "Rosie never got the mistletoe."
Sam blushed, looking guilty, and turned his face down.
"I don't..." he began but did not continue.
"You should bring them to her, so she won't be disappointed. She already knows to expect them."
"She does?" Sam looked up at him with his eyes wide. "How could she... Oh, you told her."
Frodo laughed. "It's hardly the end of the world, Sam. Bring her the mistletoe. She will look surprised and things will be fine."
Sam bit his lip absentmindedly, then stood up from the snowy ground. His breeches had wet spots on the knees.
"Sir?" he began.
"Sam, I told you earlier that you needn't call me that."
"Yes, sir, but have you any idea how difficult it is to not call you... sir." Sam frowned a little at his own words, and smirked. "Sorry."
Sam seemed to ponder something for a while, because he was looking past Frodo and had that certain empty look in his eyes. Then he turned his gaze to Frodo and focused on him.
"Did you like the mistletoe?" he said quickly, mashing the words into each other.
Ah, so Frodo had indeed been right about the mysterious mistletoe.
"It was from you?" he said, raising his brows. There was no reason for him to embarrass Sam any further. He would let the young man keep his dignity.
"I thought you would like it, with Yule on its way and everything," Sam said. "It's from my that tree, see." Sam waved his hand in a direction where Frodo could see the said tree. "It makes good tea."
Frodo nodded. "Thank you. But why didn't you simply give it to me in person?"
"Well, I, sir, I wanted it to be a surprise. A present, if you will."
"I appreciate it, Sam. I hope you will join me for a cup tomorrow."
Sam stared at him in mild shock.
"Of course, Mister Frodo. I would love to."
"Good. I look forward to it."
* * *
Sam was covered in snow when he stepped inside. His cheeks were red, his eyes glinting, and he had a wide smile on his face. It was an expression of such joy that Frodo could not help but answer it with a smile of his own.
"I thought I would bring something," Sam said when he offered a little basket to Frodo and started taking off his coat. The insides of the basket smelled wonderful. There were scones and buns and bread, all of them still warm despite the cold weather.
"Thank you, Sam," Frodo said, leading them further inside.
"I will make the tea," Sam said, standing a little shy next to the stove. "Just give me the mistletoe and a kettle and it'll be ready in no time."
Frodo brought them to him, and Sam started chopping up the leaves. "Could you give me some honey, sir," he said without turning around, and Frodo smiled to himself, picking up the honey jar from a shelf.
Sam had an expression of heavy concentration on his face as he put the leaves to boil. Soon the smell of the tea spread through the air, and Frodo realized he was hungry. He picked up one bun from the basket, dipped a spoon into the honey and spread the honey on the bun. It tasted delicious.
Sam slapped him on his hand, then looked shocked at having done it.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that. It's just that you aren't supposed to be eating that yet. Wait for the tea first."
Frodo put the bun back on the table. He could wait for Sam's tea to be ready if it really meant that much to him.
* * *
It was not enough that the buns were delicious -- Sam's mistletoe tea was even better. Frodo drank it in long gulps, followed by honeyed scones and other biscuits. On top of it all, Sam was there with him. He could not imagine a better way to spend a wintry evening, and he said this to Sam.
"I'm glad you like it," Sam said, grinning. "I wasn't sure I could still make it. Of course, this here makes it even better." Sam held a dark little bottle in his hand. "Old Gaffer says there's nothing quite like spiced up mistletoe tea."
Well, that would explain why Frodo was feeling so happy and relaxed right now. Frodo put his cup aside, then looked at Sam in the eye. Now was as good a time as ever.
"Sam," he began. "I wanted to ask you about a certain thing."
Sam looked like he was ready for a lecture. There was certainly not going to be one, but he did not know it yet.
"How much do you like Rosie?"
Sam's jaw dropped a little before he closed his mouth.
"She's the most beautiful lass I have ever laid my eyes on," he said with a serious face and Frodo believed him.
"But I'm not sure if she'll have me," Sam finished, dropping his gaze on the table.
"Of course she will," Frodo said, and he could feel the situation was not going exactly the way he would have wanted it to.
"You are a nice lad, you have friendly-looking eyes and you are the best friend a Hobbit could ever have."
Sam looked up at him, with an expression of disbelief, and then he blushed a little.
"Mister Frodo, it's not nice to joke about such things."
"Why would I joke about that? You are Sam, my Sam, and whatever I say about is true."
"Your Sam?"
Frodo felt that he might have gone a little too far, but there was no turning back now. The warmth from the tea was still making him feel peaceful and a little bold.
"Yes, you are my Sam, and there can be no other Sam for me. Nor any other Hobbit for that matter."
Sam's eyes were wide and he nearly dropped his cup on the floor. Before he could do any damage, Frodo stood up and walked to Sam. He reached out to touch Sam's face; his cheek was warm under Frodo's fingers, almost as warm as Frodo was feeling inside. After a small caress, he let his hand fall.
"Why did you do that, sir?" Sam asked.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. I just wanted to touch you."
"No, I meant why did you stop it?"
Frodo was not sure he could believe what he was hearing. Did Sam really say..?
"You want me to continue?" he asked, frowning a little.
"Yes," Sam said, then stood up until they were standing face to face, almost touching each other. "I liked it."
Frodo raised his hand and touched Sam's chin with his thumb. He looked Sam in the eyes, wondering what went on in Sam's mind, but all he could see were a pair of brown eyes that were looking into his, and their expression was warm.
Frodo closed his eyes and carefully leaned further, and he gave Sam a light kiss on his mouth. When he opened his eyes, he saw that Sam's eyes were tightly shut. Frodo smiled, then chuckled.
"Is it that painful?" he asked, and Sam opened his eyes. Frodo kissed him again, now letting Sam get used to the touch of his lips. It took a while, but soon Sam opened his mouth a little and kissed back, making a small sound of pleasure that encouraged Frodo to go even further. When their tongues met, Frodo could hardly believe it. He was kissing Sam. He was finally kissing this young Hobbit who had grown up into a fine young man.
He broke the kiss and looked at Sam. Sam looked as happy as Frodo felt.
"Mister Frodo, if you kiss like that then I never want to see Rosie again."
Frodo laughed.
"I told you, don't call me that. At least not now. Right now I only want to be Frodo to you."
Sam seemed to think about it for a while, then he nodded.
"If I am your Sam, then that makes you my Frodo."
Frodo smiled at him, at his glinting eyes and his reddened cheeks.
"Sounds lovely."
--The End--