Lullaby
Title: Lullaby
Rating: G
Pairing: Frodo and Sam
Sam caught Frodo staring off into space in a half-dream when he ought to have been writing. The quill was laid aside. Something had halted his words and Sam had a good guess as to what it was.
“It’s the Tower, isn’t it?” he asked quietly, reading over his shoulder. He rested a square, browned hand on Frodo’s shoulder and felt the softness of his cheek press against it.
“I have nightmares about it.”
Sam gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze while his other hand reached up to slowly stroke the curls at the nape of his neck. Blue eyes tilted up at him and there was an asking in them.
“But you always come, Sam, like a dream. You were singing some childish nursery songs and then…against all hope, I was in your arms knowing I was safe again. You always come…”
“Like this?” Sam murmured, bending to wrap his arms around Frodo then lifting him easily from his writing chair. He knelt with him on the rug before the fireplace.
Frodo nestled his face in the harbor of broad shoulders while Sam thought through his choices. Safety and comfort to hold the dark at bay. He began to hum an old favorite nursery song.
“I need to write more, Sam,” Frodo protested sleepily, muffled by Sam’s shoulder. He lay still as a sleeping child, however, his eyes closed, drowsed by the soothing song and the gentling fingers on his neck.
Sam bent to kiss his forehead. “Rest, m’dear. Rest in your Sam’s arms a while.”
He was Samwise the Brave, wasn’t he? He had no sword now to save Frodo and no sword could save him. No weapon save what power songs could wield.
Simple song by tender kiss, he patiently hummed the darkness back into the night.
Rating: G
Pairing: Frodo and Sam
Sam caught Frodo staring off into space in a half-dream when he ought to have been writing. The quill was laid aside. Something had halted his words and Sam had a good guess as to what it was.
“It’s the Tower, isn’t it?” he asked quietly, reading over his shoulder. He rested a square, browned hand on Frodo’s shoulder and felt the softness of his cheek press against it.
“I have nightmares about it.”
Sam gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze while his other hand reached up to slowly stroke the curls at the nape of his neck. Blue eyes tilted up at him and there was an asking in them.
“But you always come, Sam, like a dream. You were singing some childish nursery songs and then…against all hope, I was in your arms knowing I was safe again. You always come…”
“Like this?” Sam murmured, bending to wrap his arms around Frodo then lifting him easily from his writing chair. He knelt with him on the rug before the fireplace.
Frodo nestled his face in the harbor of broad shoulders while Sam thought through his choices. Safety and comfort to hold the dark at bay. He began to hum an old favorite nursery song.
“I need to write more, Sam,” Frodo protested sleepily, muffled by Sam’s shoulder. He lay still as a sleeping child, however, his eyes closed, drowsed by the soothing song and the gentling fingers on his neck.
Sam bent to kiss his forehead. “Rest, m’dear. Rest in your Sam’s arms a while.”
He was Samwise the Brave, wasn’t he? He had no sword now to save Frodo and no sword could save him. No weapon save what power songs could wield.
Simple song by tender kiss, he patiently hummed the darkness back into the night.