Many Aspects

by GillianInOz

Summary:

'So he was not at home in early March and did not know that Frodo had been ill. On the thirteenth of that month Farmer Cotton found Frodo lying on his bed; he was clutching a white gem that hung on a chain around his neck and he seemed half in a dream. But the fit passed, and when Sam got back on the twenty-fifth, Frodo had recovered and he said nothing about himself.'
~ The Grey Havens - Return of the King.

But what if Sam had found out Frodo was ill? In this story he does, and, to borrow from Terry Pratchett, he and Frodo go hurtling together down the other leg in the Trousers of Time.

'So he was not at home in early March and did not know that Frodo had been ill. On the thirteenth of that month Farmer Cotton found Frodo lying on his bed; he was clutching a white gem that hung on a chain around his neck and he seemed half in a dream. But the fit passed, and when Sam got back on the twenty-fifth, Frodo had recovered and he said nothing about himself.'
~ The Grey Havens - Return of the King.

But what if Sam had found out Frodo was ill? In this story he does, and, to borrow from Terry Pratchett, he and Frodo go hurtling together down the other leg in the Trousers of Time.

March 1420 S.R.

"But Sam, we've only just come home!"

"We'll wait until you're feeling better, Mr. Frodo, then we'll be off. If we delay too long it'll be October before we know it and you'll have to go through all this again."

"We don't know that it will happen every anniversary."

Sam shrugged. "Well, if I'm wrong we'll have a nice visit with the elves and Mr. Bilbo. No harm done."

"Do you really want to leave so soon, Sam? You've been so busy since we got back you haven't had time for, er, all the things I thought you'd be doing."

Sam blushed and ducked his head. "Plenty of time for that, Mr. Frodo," he muttered.

"Are you sure about that, my lad? Wouldn't want to miss your chance."

"Anyway," Sam said hastily, to forestall any further comments. "If I am gonna settle down into quiet Shire life for the next fifty years or so, I should have one last adventure, right?"

"I'd have thought you'd have had enough adventures to last a lifetime, Sam!"

"You'd think so, wouldn't you?" Sam said seriously. "But I'll tell you, Mr. Frodo, sometimes I wake up in the morning with itchy feet, you know? Wondering what strange ground I'm goin' to tread today. It's a relief most times just to find good solid floor beneath my feet, but sometimes..."

"Sometimes, Sam?"

Sam frowned, for the first time trying to put into words the vague feelings that assailed him now and then. "Sometimes it's like something's calling me, you know? Some voice I've never heard before, yet it's somehow so familiar. Like songs, or birds crying out, or water."

"It's the sea," Frodo said, his own eyes growing distant.

"How do you know that?" Sam asked, surprised. "You've never seen the sea, no more than I have."

Frodo shivered, as if a chill wind had blown over him. "I don't know," he admitted. "But I think that's what it is. Like the elves, who say the sea is calling them home."

"But we are home," Sam puzzled.

"Of course we are," Frodo shrugged. "But sometimes I feel those itchy feet too, Sam, except I've nowhere to go. There's a restlessness in me, a longing. Like the one you spoke of."

"I don't say it was a longing," Sam denied. "Just a dream I have sometimes. I'm not longing to sail away from Middle Earth forever! And neither are you." He frowned when Frodo looked away from him, down at his hands. "Mr. Frodo?"

"Not yet," Frodo admitted. "But maybe, someday..."

"Well that's it," Sam said decisively. "If feeling poorly has got you thinking about sailing off with the elves we better fix you and right quick."

"I don't think the elves can fix what ails me, Sam," Frodo said quietly. "I don't think anything can."

"I'll believe that when I hear it with me own ears, and not before," Sam said firmly. "Until then, plan on getting well, because when you do we ride for Rivendell."

888

"But you only just got home!" Rosie exclaimed. "You can't just ride off again."

"We've got no choice," Sam said firmly, checking his pack with an experienced eye. They'd be traveling by roads this time, and inns as far as Bree, but after that real roads would be few and far between, and he didn't want to trust his supplies to the Big Folks town.

"Yes, you have a choice," Rosie said angrily, taking him by the arm and pulling him to face her. "If Mr. Frodo needs the elves he can just go off and see them himself. Old Mr. Bilbo did, often enough. Why do you have to go?"

"Because he needs me," Sam said simply.

"But he's better now," Rosie insisted. "He looks as good as new! He doesn't need you."

"He'll always need me, Rosie," Sam said quietly, looking into her pretty eyes, willing her to understand. "No matter what happens, if the elves make him well or no, he will always need me."

Rosie frowned, tears in her eyes. "I don't understand! What about us here at home, Sam? We need you too."

"I've done all the planting that needs doing for now, I-"

"That's not what I mean and you know it!" Rosie shouted, stamping her foot. "First you go off and leave for months and months, until everyone thinks you're dead, and then when you finally do come back..."

"What?"

"You're different," Rosie whispered. "You... you're different."

"I reckon I am," Sam allowed.

"Why won't you never talk about it, Sam?' Rosie pleaded. "You talk to Mr. Frodo all the time, when you're here, and the rest of the time you're out and about the Shire. It's like you're not even really back home yet, not in your head. And now you're going off again!"

"It'll be a few weeks, months at the most."

"You say that now," Rosie said sadly. "But what you're telling me is that he comes first. He needs you and you go haring off again. If he asks you to go off on another adventure you'll go!"

"Adventure?" Sam huffed. "That's one word for it."

"What else am I to call it, when you won't tell me any different?"

Sam sighed. "You're right. You're right, Rosie." He took her hands in both of his. "And we will talk, I promise. When I get back."

Rosie wrenched her hands from his. "If I'm here when you come back," she cried, then turned and fled.

Sam took a step after her and then stopped, hands clenching by his side. She was right. Frodo did come first. He always would.

888

April 1420 S.R.

Elrond greeted them warmly. "Alas," he exclaimed. "Bilbo has gone off traveling with Gandalf." The ancient elf tilted his head enquiringly at Frodo. "We expected to see you in September?" he said.

It seemed to Sam there was some meaning in his voice. Frodo was avoiding his glance and Sam resolved to ask about it later.

Sam explained why they had come and Elrond listened carefully to their troubles. "As it happens a great healer from the Realm of Mirkwood has lately been to stay with us, Nestadren is his name. He was much interested in your trials, Master Baggins, and has read extensively the reports I wrote of your healing and recovery."

"Well, that's lucky, isn't it Mr. Frodo!" Sam said excitedly, hope lighting in his breast.

"Hardly luck, Master Gamgee," Elrond smiled. "It seems to me that fate has led your footsteps and Nestadren's here at this time. Would you like to meet him?"

Frodo nodded and smiled. "Very much."

888

Nestadren was tall and fair as many elves were, but his eyes were a soft greeny-brown and they were kind and welcoming, not distant and farseeing as many elves seemed, even the nicest of them, Sam thought. The healer bowed as he was introduced and Sam and Frodo bowed back, a little awkwardly, for bowing is not usually the hobbit way.

"I am honoured and delighted to meet you," Nestadren exclaimed in a soft musical voice. Straight away his accent reminded Sam of Legolas, their good friend, and he felt himself warming to the stranger.

Frodo's cheeks were a little flushed but he accepted the enthusiasm with grace. He'd had to get used to a great deal of attention at Minas Tirith after all.

"Please, sit," Nestadren indicated two comfortable looking chairs and Sam was pleased to see they were normal sized. All this giant furniture made for a lot of undignified scrabbling to climb up on chairs and things. "The Lord Elrond has been kind enough to lend me these fine rooms to work in, while I study the many books on healing that are new to me here."

"It's the finest library I've ever seen," Frodo enthused.

"But surely you've been to the great city of Minas Tirith," Nestadren said warmly. "It is said much wisdom from past ages is stored in their library."

"I'm sure it is," Frodo said doubtfully. "But for man war has been his pastime this last generation. Old knowledge, unless it dealt with that subject, has been rather pushed aside."

"Captain Faramir was very learned," Sam reminded him. "Or Prince Faramir I should say now."

"Perhaps under the new king knowledge will once again become prized," Nestadren said softly, the words sweet in his strange/familiar accent. He smiled and nodded. "But as much as I would enjoy speaking more of this, Lord Elrond has told me why you have come." He studied Frodo frankly with his keen brown gaze. "Your old wound is bothering you?"

"Wounds," Sam corrected when Frodo nodded. "For Mr. Frodo was stabbed by more than that cursed blade."

"I had not heard this," Nestadren exclaimed. "But I'm sure your sufferings as Ringbearer were great. Can you tell me what other wounds you bear?"

Frodo lifted a hand to the back of his neck, above his left shoulder. "Here a spider stung me," he said lowly. "A giant creature from evil days, or so Sam tells me. It was he who fought and killed it."

"Not killed it," Sam corrected. "Wounded it, I hope badly enough to have ended its rotten life, but of that I could never be sure."

"You saved me though, Sam," Frodo reminded him. "From being her meal."

Sam shivered, the memory too close. "March the 13th," Sam said, trying to shake the feeling away. "I was beyond reckoning dates out there, but this March 13th was when Mr. Frodo's illness come on him again, the anniversary like."

"And the wound from the Morgul blade?" Nestadren asked seriously. "Was that anniversary also marked by illness?"

Frodo nodded and Sam jumped in. "Why should that happen?" he said curiously. "Either something makes you ill or it doesn't. Why should it happen every year after?"

Nestadren nodded. "The wounds you sustained, Frodo, both sting and steel were instruments of evil, accursed and foul. The wounds and scars they left you will never fully heal. You know that, don't you?"

Frodo nodded and Sam tried to suppress the tears that wanted to start in his eyes. If Frodo could always be so brave, than Sam wouldn't let himself weep.

"Each of the wounds you sustained were enough to kill you on their own. The fact that you survived is a testament to the strength of your race, something I have marvelled at when I read Lord Elrond's description of your treatment."

"I'd have died then if it wasn't for him." Frodo acknowledged.

"Many would have died even under his care, I assure you," Nestadren said gravely. "As many have died before at such a wounding. As for Shelob's sting, yes, Samwise, I know the name of the creature you spoke of, it too has taken many lives, more than you and I could count in all our years."

"So what do we do?" Sam appealed. "How do we fight such evil?"

"Some wounds cannot be healed," Nestadren said baldly. "Some poison has no cure."

Frodo took a deep sigh. "I have felt it," he admitted lowly. "The poison inside me. You spoke of my survival, but I don't think I can take much credit for that. The Ring I bore kept me alive, and now the Ring is gone the poison is taking me." He sought Nestadren's gaze. "Isn't it."

"I fear your anniversary illnesses will grow worse with each passing year, lasting longer and paining you more, until eventually..."

"They will take my life," Frodo finished evenly.

"No!" Sam exclaimed. "There must be something you can do," he implored the elven healer. "What good was fighting all that evil if it's just gonna take him in the end?"

"Sam," Frodo said sadly. "Lots of people fought the evil and didn't survive it. At least I got to go home. At least I got to see the Shire again."

"Now you sound like you're giving up!" Sam exclaimed in horror. "That's not what we came here for. We came looking for hope. If he can't give it to us," here Sam turned and bowed hastily to the elf. "Begging your pardon, sir, I don't mean to be rude. But if you can't help us we'll search 'til we find someone as can."

"I didn't say I wouldn't try to help you, Master Samwise," the elf smiled. "It would be my honour to try. And may I say how much I admire your strength of conviction. Of course there is hope, there is always hope!"

Sam felt himself calming at the sincerity in Nestadren's keen brown gaze. "But you just said that some wounds can't heal."

"And some have cures we have yet to acknowledge. Let me tell you a legend and a story, my friends. One concerns my kin, many centuries ago. He too was struck by a poison, one that took a hold of his body."

"Is that why you study the subject?" Frodo asked curiously.

Nestadren nodded. "Exactly why. While many of my people shy away from the study, fearing to be tainted by it, I try to learn all I can. My hope is that by shining a light on such darkness we can drive it away forever."

"If you could help Mr. Frodo after all he's suffered," Sam said gratefully. "That would be a shining light indeed!"

"I agree," Nestadren said with a smile. "If I could help the one who so bravely destroyed the great evil of our time, then all my studies would be worthwhile."

Frodo looked away as he always did at such praise, but Sam beamed, warming to the elven healer even more.

"Please, tell us your story," he said eagerly now.

"It begins with a legend actually, of long ago. It is a legend not told much these days, but it is a part of my family lore and I know it well. An elven maid named Yivanna, who forswore a peaceful maiden's life but longed for the road and adventure, left the home of her father to roam the earth. It is said she traveled for many years, encountering many adventures and fighting much evil, but after one such adventure she returned home at the side of her companions, gravely ill. Some evil poison had taken her, wounded her to her soul, and she was falling under its devices. Many tried to heal her and failed."

"What was the poison?" Sam asked in a hushed voice when Nestadren paused.

"It is never said, but there is no doubt it was taking her life. Her father was a master of elven magic, much famed in his realm, and he perceived that a great emptiness had taken a hold of her, was eating away at her, inside. He saw that if the emptiness could be filled, if light could replace darkness, then she might be saved. One of her companions was a good friend who had stood by her for many years and cared deeply for her, although the legend does not call them lovers. It was to the two of them that the father proposed a spell. A child."

"A child?" Frodo repeated.

"Conceived in love, with the aid of magic, Galinsell, Child of Light whose growth inside Yivanna would dispel the darkness, fill the emptiness, and cure her."

"And did it?"

"So the legend goes."

"But that's just a legend," Sam said in disappointment. "How could such a thing help Frodo?"

"That's only the beginning of my story," Nestadren smiled. "For I told you it concerned my kin, did I not? Many centuries ago a warrior elf lived not unlike Yivanna. Sian was his name, and he traveled the world and fought evil, although he did it with one companion only by his side, his cousin, Sial. Sian it was who fought the Witch-King of Angmar very near Rivendell itself, and for his bravery was struck by a Morgul blade."

"Witch-King!" Sam exclaimed. "The same one who stabbed Frodo?"

"Now you understand my interest," Nestadren nodded.

Frodo was rubbing his shoulder and Sam reached out a comforting hand and stroked his arm. "He feels it all the time," Sam said, angrily. "It's not right!"

"Please finish your story," Frodo said quietly, smiling at Sam and nodding a little, to show he was all right.

"There's not much more to tell," Nestadren said, although Sam noted that he too was nodding, as if in approval at them. "Sian began to wane, much as you have done, Frodo. Elvish medicine eased his pain, but the emptiness grew inside him, until at last all around who loved him prevailed upon him to make his final journey. To sail to the Uttermost West and there be eased of all pain in the undying lands."

"I hope that's not how your story ends," Sam interrupted fiercely. "We already know that way is open to us."

"Not us, Sam!" Frodo exclaimed. "To me, for this is my burden."

"I've heard that before," Sam said wryly.

"You didn't listen then either, as I recall."

"And that was the problem between Sian and Sial," Nestadren said swiftly. "For much as Sian felt the call of the West he knew that if he sailed Sial would sail with him, unable to be parted from the other half of his heart. Sian would not take his beloved cousin away from the world before his time, and in truth, even though he was weary and sick inside he did not want to be separated from the other half of his heart either."

Sam turned and saw that Frodo was looking at him, all his own heart in his eyes. Wordless they exchanged a long glance.

"Nor was he quite ready to leave the world himself," Nestadren continued. "And that was when the old tale of Yivanna and the Child of Light was retold."

"But what good would that do them, or us either for that matter?" Sam asked. "Unless male elves can have babes, something I've not heard before."

"It's doubtful you'd hear such a thing., Master Samwise," Nestadren smiled. "For males are males in the elvenkind, just as they are for hobbitkind, and for mankind too, as far as I know."

"In all of nature, I should think," Sam retorted.

"Ah, do not be too sure of all nature," Nestadren counselled. "She has many aspects other than the ones we could claim to know. But no, of course male elves didn't bear children, still, for Sian and Sial time was running out, and the story of the Child of Light was the only legend that told of such an evil poison being purged before."

Nestadren studied them both gravely in the afternoon's pale light. "And so elven magic was proposed. A spell of conception, the very spell used on Yivanna and her companion long ago. A spell that would allow Sian, although male, to conceive and bear a child. Galinsell, Child of Light, whose growth would dispel the darkness, fill the emptiness inside Sian, and cure him."

"This must be a legend too," Sam exclaimed. "Who ever heard of a lad bearing a babe? It's unnatural!"

"So said many," Nestadren agreed steadily. "So many still say, long years later. It is why the story is shunned, why the study is discouraged, especially for me."

"Why for you?" Frodo asked softly. "Are you this Sian then, so called long ago?"

"No," Nestadren smiled. "He and his Sial sailed into the West together, when their time at last came, although it was much much later than many think he should have sailed. Can you guess then, who I am?"

"Their child!" Sam exclaimed, then blushed in case he was wrong.

"Yes, Samwise," Nestadren confirmed. "Child of Light, conceived by magic and by love, between Sian and Sial. In my growing I saved his life, and made a happy one for myself, for no child was ever as loved and cherished as I was by my unusual parents."

"So it's not just a legend then?" Sam said, still doubtful even though it had been his guess. "It's really true?"

"Yes."

Sam absorbed this, the strange details of the story washing over him. Magical babes born to elf princesses, (because to Sam all elven lasses were princesses,) well, that was something easy to understand. The kind of story told to young hobbits around a campfire, the sort that made lasses smile and clap their hands and lads shuffle their feet and ask for more tales about sword fights and dragon treasures.

But an elven lad with child? It wasn't romantic or anything like it. It was unnatural, and wrong. It was magic, which Sam often admired, but never really wanted to be a part of. He was a plain and simple hobbit, and liked things he could touch and feel and understand. Magic made him uneasy.

Magic was where dark magic came from, and it was dark magic poison that was killing Frodo.

He cast a glance at his friend, but Frodo's head was turned away, his hands still in his lap. He doesn't like the idea any more than I do, Sam thought. And what was the idea, anyway? That Frodo should go through such a spell? That a hobbit lad should have a babe?

"It's crazy!" Sam said aloud. "I'm sorry, I know you want to help, but it can't be right. It just can't!"

"So many said," Nestadren repeated, his face resigned. "It was said to Sian while he carried me, and so Sial took him away and kept him safe during his confinement, vowing they would be together forever no matter what happened. And I grew and healed Sian before Sial's eyes, but no other eyes saw it, so many did not believe it when they returned, with Sian bursting with health again, and a wee babe in their warrior arms. Those who did believe did not approve. They said that Sian should have accepted his fate and sailed to the Undying Lands, waiting for Sial to sail when his time came."

"It wasn't much of a choice," Frodo said at last. "And I don't see how it is a choice for me. I'm not an elf, just a hobbit. A babe?" He chuckled, but his mouth stayed sad. "Sam said it. It's crazy."

"Light dispels darkness," Nestadren said. "Life over death. Love banishing hatred. How is this crazy?"

Sam felt pain inside his chest. "It just is!" he shouted, jumping to his feet. "You've no right to give us hope with mad stories like that! We need real help, not fairy tales!"

"Sam!" Frodo exclaimed, standing and taking his friends arm. "Don't! He's trying to help us!"

"You don't believe him do you?" Sam said shakily, catching Frodo's forearm with his hand so that they stood face to face, arms pressed together. "He's talking about some elf making you pregnant, Frodo! Just saying it aloud makes me feel a fool, how can you believe that?"

"You misheard me, Master Gamgee," Nestadren said simply. "An elvish spell, yes, which I can cast. But the Child of Light must be conceived in love. It is from your seed that Frodo's child would need to grow."

Sam gaped at him for a moment and then his face flamed. He and Frodo released each other's arms so quickly they appeared to leap away from each other. The implications of the elven healer's words spun through Sam's brain even as the flush covered his fair skin from his chest to the tips of his pointed ears.

He wanted to speak scorn, he longed for a sword at his side, he really really wished the ground would open up and swallow him. Instead all he could do was stand with his mouth flapping until it all overwhelmed him and he turned on his heel and fled.

888

This home of the elves was always autumn, and Sam wondered if that was a magic spell too. Was that why the elves were all leaving Middle Earth? Because immortality lost its appeal when even the weather bowed to your whims? What joy in living if you couldn't be surprised by an unseasonal warm day, or an unexpected flurry of snow? What joy in living if nothing could surprise you any more?

Of course, he could have done without one surprise today.

You came here seeking elven magic, Samwise, he lectured himself. What was that old saying his gaffer quoted? Be careful what you ask for, you might get it? You wanted a cure...

"And I got a fairy tale," Sam muttered.

"You said that before," Frodo said from behind him and Sam jumped. He looked over his shoulder as Frodo stepped over the stone bench and planted himself down on it with a sigh. He held a book on his lap, a small elvish tome with a worn blue cover and faded gold writing. "But I never heard a fairy tale like the one Nestadren was spinning."

"I doubt anyone has," Sam said bitterly. "He's cracked, if an elf can be such a thing." He made a circle in the air by his head. "Loopy. Too many legends and not enough hard sense, that's what's wrong with the elves, in my opinion."

"They've been our friends and allies," Frodo reminded him firmly. "And are now our hosts."

Sam hung his head like a chidden nipper. "I know, I know," he muttered. "But I got my hopes right up, and now... Well, we're back to where we started."

"You don't think some part of the legend could be true, Sam?" Frodo said tentatively. His fingers stroked the book, his mutilated hand showing starkly against the blue binding. "He seemed very sure. It is of his own parentage he spoke, after all."

"Of course no part is true," Sam bellowed, his face flushing again at the memory. "How could something so unnatural be right?"

Frodo took a deep sigh and looked out over the ravine spread before them. It was almost too heartbreakingly beautiful in the evening light. "I suppose so," he said quietly. Then he turned and smiled at his friend. "It's all right, Sam," he said softly. "I'm not like Sial and Yivanna. When my time comes, I can accept the ending. Maybe I will sail into the West."

"No you bloody well won't!' Sam erupted. "Just because there's no help for us with this one healer, doesn't mean we stop lookin'! We've crossed Middle Earth before, and that time we had evil trailin' us. We can do it again, in search of a cure."

"Sam, Lord Elrond is one of the oldest and wisest elves alive. If he can't help me..." Frodo reached out to lay his hand on Sam's.

But Sam pulled away, getting up off the bench and gazing bitterly at the view. "I won't accept that."

888

Lord Elrond did not dine with the others, so Sam had to use all his hobbit stealth to find him. He did not want Frodo to know he was looking, and he certainly didn't want to meet the crazy healer on the way, so he wracked his memory and finally his footsteps led him to a pavilion all by itself in a wooded glade. From the trees he could see the tall dark haired elf sitting at a desk, reading. Sam wondered how there were still any books to read for someone so ancient, but he put the thought away and straightened his spine. He'd faced more frightening things than an angry elf after all.

He crossed the glade and climbed the worn steps, watching cautiously as Lord Elrond lifted his head and gazed curiously at him.

"Master Gamgee," he said in surprise. "How are you this evening?"

"Fine," Sam said nervously. At least he didn't seem angry. "I wanted to thank you for your hospitality, but you weren't at dinner tonight."

"But surely we shall meet later?" Elrond said, closing his book and laying it aside. Everything elves did seemed graceful and even as upset as he was Sam watched the gesture appreciatively.

"Well, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. Frodo and I, we'll be leaving soon, and I wanted to thank you before you left."

"Leaving soon?" Elrond repeated in surprise. "But I spoke to Frodo earlier, he said nothing of leaving."

"You spoke to Mr. Frodo?" Sam asked in surprise. "This afternoon?"

"After your visit with Nestadren," Elrond confirmed. "Frodo had some questions and he sought me out."

"Questions about Nestadren?" Sam asked quickly. "He didn't mention that legend, did he?"

"I know the legend already, Master Gamgee," Elrond said quietly. "I've heard it many times myself."

"There is such a legend then?" Sam asked in surprise.

"Of course, did you think Nestadren was lying to you?"

Sam flushed. "Not lying exactly," he began awkwardly, then his innate honesty rose up. "Well, now that you ask, yes actually, I did think he was lying. Or just plain cracked."

Elrond surveyed him in some surprise for a moment, and then threw back his head and laughed. Sam wouldn't have called it a hearty laugh exactly, but for an elf it seemed downright hysterical, and Sam felt his confidence waning a bit. Oh, how hard it was sometimes, to be among these big folk! How they did loom over a fellow and make him feel like a child!

"I'm sorry, Master Gamgee," Elrond apologised, with a twinkle in his eye. "But even by those who do not approve of him, Nestadren is not considered... cracked. He has walked many dark places in the world and faced much evil in search of truth. I admire him greatly." Elrond smiled at Sam kindly. "I would not have introduced him to two such important guests as yourself and Frodo if I'd thought he was a liar, or cracked."

"But, that means..." Sam broke off, his head swimming. "You don't mean to say you believe him? That he's some Child of Light born to two warrior elves?"

"Believe him?" Elrond said softly. "I was there, Master Gamgee. During the battle with the Witch-King, when Sian was wounded and Sial bore him home on his back. I was one of those who counselled him to throw off his burden when the pain became too much to bear. I spoke out against the spell that might save him."

Sam didn't even feel the strength leave his legs, didn't even realise he'd sat down on the stones with a bump until Lord Elrond was putting out his hand and lifting him kindly onto a seat. "It's true then?" Sam said, a radiant hope blossoming in his heart. "There is a way to save Frodo?"

"It seems there may be."

Sam put his hand to his chest to try to slow his racing heart down a little. "But that's wonderful," he said shakily. "Just when I thought we were back to the beginning, there's hope. Wait until I tell Frodo!"

"Frodo already knows, Samwise," Lord Elrond informed him gravely. "We spoke of it in depth this afternoon. I gave him a copy of the book with Sian and Sial's story in it." With another graceful gesture Elrond indicated his own book. "I was rereading Yivanna's legend myself when you arrived."

"Frodo knows?" Sam exclaimed. "But why didn't he say anything to me about it?"

"Ask yourself that question," Samwise," Elrond said gently. "Frodo accepted the possibility of truth in Nestadren's words when you rejected them out of hand. He stayed to hear his words, but you fled. Why?"

Sam felt the cursed blush again and he bit his lip. "I- I was embarrassed," he admitted. "At what he said."

"Do you know why so many opposed Nestadren's conception?" Elrond asked.

Sam shook his head, feeling his ears still bright pink.

"Because to elvenkind, nature is everything. We walk with nature, in all things, and love her and all her aspects. To go against nature, as some saw it..."

"Did you see it that way?"

"I did," Elrond confirmed. "Like many I opposed their decision, even while I understood why they made it. For my kind, the years can be light or heavy, and when we love, we love forever. Can you understand what forever means, to an elf?"

"Not really," Sam said honestly. "But I can understand the feeling of the rest of your life stretching away in front of you after you've lost someone you love. Knowing that you'll never see their face again, or hear their voice, or touch their hand. Forever might not mean the same to elves and hobbits, but I imagine fifty years or a thousand all feel pretty much the same when your heart is torn in two."

"Yes. So although I understood the need for the cousins to be together, I could not approve of their method. To go against nature."

"Do you still feel like that?" Sam asked, sensing that it was very much of the past that Elrond spoke now.

"No," Elrond said simply. "Even elves can change their mind, long after one would think them set as stone. When Sian and Sial returned to Rivendell with Nestadren, all that I had believed was turned around. I saw then that I was arrogant and foolish to think that I knew all of nature's aspects. She showed us a new one when Sian lifted away his son's covers with one battle scarred hand."

"And it really saved his life?" Sam said. "Could it do the same for a hobbit?"

"I do not know," Elrond said honestly. "I cannot foresee it. But I believe it is possible."

"Did you tell Frodo this?"

"I did."

"And he didn't tell me." Sam clenched his fists. "Stupid, stubborn hobbit that he is, he'd rather die than ask this of me!"

"Perhaps he thought it would go against your nature?" Elrond said mildly.

"Well, maybe he had cause to think that," Sam admitted, not one whit abashed. "But like you said, nature has many sides. We'll just have to see how many Sam Gamgee's got!"

888

Sam found Frodo in the chamber they shared, sitting with his feet up on a window sill, looking out into the night. He looked up as Sam slammed the door.

"Sam!" he greeted him in surprise. "Where did you get to after dinner? I searched everywhere for you."

Sam stopped in the middle of the floor with his fists propped on his hips. "You are the stubbornest hobbit I ever met, and that's sayin' summat!"

Frodo's eyes rounded. "What did I do?"

"What did you do?" Sam shook his head in exasperation. "Sat there with that book on your lap, like butter wouldn't melt, letting me go on and on about crazy elves. What did you do," he muttered, pushing Frodo's feet down and leaning against the wide stone sill.

"Oh, Sam."

"Don't you 'Oh, Sam' me," Sam said severely. "What if I hadn't gone talkin' to Lord Elrond? Would you have let me drag you around half of Middle Earth lookin' for a cure when there's one here, right under our noses?"

"You spoke to Lord Elrond?"

"It's no more'n you did," Sam said stoutly. "Why didn't you tell me?" he appealed more softly. "How glad do you think I was to hear there's a way to make you well again? I should of heard that from you."

"You made your opinion on that quite clear when you ran out of Nestadren's room, Sam," Frodo reminded him.

"Don't throw that in my face," Sam muttered, cursing his blushing ears. "It's his fault for coming right out with it like that. Talkin' about my- my seed!"

Frodo hid his face in his hands as his cheeks blushed rosy red.

"See," Sam said triumphantly. "You're embarrassed too! Admit it!"

"Well, of course I'm embarrassed," Frodo cried. "Who wouldn't be? I love you dearly, Sam, but the thought that you and I would have to - to lay together..."

"Is the thought of dying better?" Sam shot back. Then he assumed a hurt expression. "I may not be the prettiest hobbit in the Shire," he began pitifully.

"Oh, Sam," Frodo chuckled through his hands, but his fingers were trembling. Sam reached over and took both his hands and held them tight.

"Oh, Frodo," Sam mocked him softly. "How do we get in these pickles?"

Frodo was laughing in earnest now, his chest shaking. "It's-it's crazy," he stuttered through his chuckles.

"That's what I said," Sam pointed out.

"A baby, Sam! How can I...? How could we...? Sam?"

Sam pulled on his hands and gathered him up in his arms and they stood together by the window, holding each other tight, rocking back and forward a little for comfort.

"Anyone lookin' at us right now might think we'd have no trouble makin' a baby," Sam teased and Frodo smothered a chuckle against his shoulder. Sam was glad to see his ears were bright red though. He'd hate to be the only one.

"What are we going to do, Sam?"

"You know what we're goin' to do, Mr. Frodo," Sam said clearly, pulling back and taking Frodo's eyes. "You knew the minute the healer told you that story. It's why you wouldn't look at me, wasn't it?"

"Couldn't look at you," Frodo admitted.

"It's why I ran out of the room," Sam admitted back. "Why I couldn't let myself think about it, let alone believe it."

"But you believe now, Sam?"

"You ever tried callin' Lord Elrond a liar?" Sam joked and Frodo smiled. "I do believe it, and I'm glad I do. To make you well, to keep you home, why, there's nothin' I wouldn't do."

"That's what worries me," Frodo said, and he pulled away and sat back down. A cool breeze wafted in through the open window and Sam shivered at the sudden lack of warmth against him. "You've already given up so much for me, Sam," Frodo said worriedly. "Now here you are, offering to make another sacrifice. I can't let you."

"Fft," Sam dismissed. "Sacrifice? It's not like you're askin' me to drink poison or anythin'."

"But you would, wouldn't you, Sam? If I asked you to?"

Sam cleared his throat at the emotion in Frodo's voice. "Now don't start gettin' all dramatic on me, Mr. Frodo. It's like my old gammer used to say: 'There's no use cryin' over bad medicine, might as well drink it down, tain't gettin' any sweeter.'"

"I think I should take that as an insult," Frodo said thoughtfully.

"I think what you should do, my dear, is put yourself in my place," Sam said sternly. "If my life hung in the balance, what would you quibble at doin'?"

Frodo thought about it for a moment or two and then shrugged. "Nothing, I suppose," he said.

"Don't sound so surprised," Sam chided, just to make him chuckle again. "Now instead of worryin' about makin' it, we should be worryin' about you carryin' it. I still can't get my head around the whole thing. Did the healer say any more to you after I left?"

"Some," Frodo admitted. "But I wasn't thinking too clearly myself by then."

"Well, no offence, but once we get the first hurdle out of the way, my job's the easiest. I just have to look after you, you're the one who will have to birth it."

Frodo shivered and hugged his middle. "It's getting cold," he said. "I'm going to bed."

They shared the big bed in the room just because that seemed most sensible, and they remembered very well how sometimes the breeze got a bit chilly in the night and how another warm body helped keep off the chill. And Sam had lost count of the nights in the wild when they'd curved together for warmth. But for the first time Sam felt awkward as he pulled his night shirt on and climbed into the bed.

Frodo was already under the covers, hugging the edge of the bed, looking like he was going to fall right off.

Sam lay back on the pillow and studied the shadows on the ceiling, the drift of leaves on the windowsill, the thin curtains moving gently in the breeze.

Frodo heaved a sigh next to him. "I guess elves don't feel the cold," he whispered.

"Don't get mad again," Sam whispered back. "But as much as I like them, they seem to have lost the grasp of practical things, if you take my meanin'. For instance, have you seen the gardens? If elves can build a place like Rivendell, you'd think they could invent a rake."

Frodo snorted into his pillow and a moment later Sam started chuckling.

"Come here," he said, and hauled Frodo over so they were lying side by side.

"I would have told you, Sam," Frodo whispered.

"Not just died bravely you mean, legs firmly together until the end?"

"Don't joke," Frodo chortled.

"I wouldn't dream of it," Sam said innocently.

Frodo turned his head on the pillow and gazed at Sam in the shadowed moonlight. "How are we going to do this, Sam?" he breathed.

"Like Nestadren said, Mr. Frodo. With love." Then he leaned over and kissed Frodo on his forehead. "Night," he whispered.

"Night, Sam," Frodo whispered back.

But it was a long time before they fell asleep.

888

They were outside the healer's rooms first thing after breakfast. Sam stopped by the door and looked at Frodo, Frodo lifted a hand to knock and then looked at Sam.

"You might as well knock, Mr. Frodo," Sam said resignedly. "The medicine tain't gettin' any sweeter."

Frodo quirked a brow at him and knocked, waiting for the call to summon them inside. Nestadren sat at a desk with books open and spread before him. He greeted them with a smile.

"My friends," he said warmly. "I'm glad to see you back."

"But not surprised," Frodo guessed, sitting down.

"I know I gave you much to think about yesterday. And the Lord Elrond came to me last night and told me of your conversations with him."

"I want to say I'm sorry," Sam said straightforwardly. "I shouldn't have said you were crazy."

The elf smiled. "I've been called worse. I wish there had been an easier way to prepare you for what I had to say. But I feel time is not our friend in this."

"What do you mean?" Frodo asked.

"Your illness will reoccur in October, yes?"

Frodo nodded agreement.

"And the spell must be performed by the light of a new moon. There's one in a week."

Sam felt his chest tighten. A week.

"The Child of Light within you must be strong enough by October to bear the brunt of the accursed illness that will come over you. We cannot delay then. If Frodo is to conceive, it must be the next new moon."

"And the, er, the child will be strong enough?" Frodo asked uneasily. "I wouldn't want it harmed. I mean." He stopped, looking discomforted. "To use a life, to create a life, just to heal myself. It seems very selfish."

"To create life in love is to give, not take."

"All the same, I can see why so many opposed it. It's a frightening notion."

"So my parents must have thought when faced with the same solution to their problem. I cannot speak for their concerns before I was born, two warriors who had spent centuries roaming the wild and challenging evil. But I can and will speak with love of my life as their son." Nestadren smiled, his warm green-brown eyes alight with joyful memory. "I was cherished, and beloved. One day I will share with you some stories of these two warriors who loved me with all their hearts."

Sam cleared his throat. "I don't know much about elven magic," he began. "But this babe... Will it be an elf or a hobbit?"

"The spell I will cast on Frodo allows him to conceive of you, Sam. It will be your child, yours and his. Like the child of any two parents he or she will have aspects of both of you."

Sam and Frodo couldn't help but stare at each other then, and once again Sam felt very small and out of his depth. There was a frightened determination in Frodo's eyes too.

"What do we have to do?" he asked bravely.

"Relax," Nestadren counselled warmly. He circled his desk and perched on the other side of it between them, reaching out and taking one of their hands in each of his. "My friends, this is not a punishment or a sentence to be carried out." He turned to Sam. "Samwise, the gift you give Frodo will save his life and his health. It will give him back his hope in the future. Yes?"

Sam felt his heart swell within him at the words and he nodded and smiled.

"And Frodo," Nestadren said, turning to him now. "All that you bear will be for Sam's sake, so that he will no longer be torn in two, but will be whole and one for all the days of his long life. Yes?"

Frodo's tense shoulders relaxed and a smile blossomed on his face.

"Yes," he agreed softly.

"Then relax, my friends. You are both young and beautiful and will find pleasure in one another. Spend the next week not in fear of what is to come, but in anticipation of all your dreams coming true. Shy not away from one another but stay close and touching, so that when the new moon shines her light on us next you will be ready to take that one step that will begin the healing."

He squeezed their hands and then released. them. "As for the spell, that is my concern, and I am already preparing for it."

The hobbits stood, but there was one last thing Sam had to know. "Mr. Nestadren, sir," he began meekly. "When we, er, when the new moon shines. Frodo and I, um. Where will we be? Exactly?"

"Secluded, Samwise, Nestadren smiled his understanding. "I will cast the spell and leave you to your seclusion."

"Good," Sam breathed in relief.

They took their leave and walked slowly down the stairs into the sunlight.

"Well, that's that," Frodo said thoughtfully. "I've just thought of a hundred things I want to ask him, but I don't somehow want to go back now. Sam?"

"I had my two questions, Mr. Frodo," Sam said earnestly. "And he answered them both."

"I didn't think of either of them myself," Frodo admitted.

"Well doubtless the question about the babe being an elf was a foolish one. But as my gaffer would say, better a foolish question than foolish mistake."

"And your other question, Sam? As soon as you asked it I felt myself trembling like a leaf. I had a sudden image of us having to do it while being watched by Nestadren!"

Sam's ears went red again but he could still chuckle at the alarmed widening of Frodo's eyes as he described his thoughts. It was easier to laugh now the question had been answered.

"Don't!" Sam protested through his laughter.

"Or Lord Elrond!" Frodo continued in horror and then he too began to laugh, bending over and holding his stomach.

Sam leaned against him and they laughed together, much more than the silly thoughts warranted. But Sam felt better for it as he straightened, wiping his eyes, and Frodo looked better too, somehow more relaxed.

"Nestadren's right though, Sam," Frodo went on as they continued down the shaded walk. "We have to put this in perspective. It might seem difficult and frightening now, but we're friends. We'll make it work."

"I just want us to stay friends," Sam said awkwardly, eyes on the path ahead. "I'd hate for us to go through this and not be able to look one another in the eye again."

"Like you're doing now?" Frodo teased gently and Sam chuckled.

"This is really gonna to happen, isn't it?"

"Yes, Sam."

Sam leaned against a banister and gazed up at the trees. "In a week."

"May," Frodo agreed.

"So it'll be more than halfway through by October," Sam mused, counting in his head.

"But it will be February by the time it's done."

Sam chuckled at the way they both avoided the key words. "Another year away from the Shire. I wonder how my trees are going?"

"You don't have to stay with me until February, Sam."

"I know."

"It's not just trees waiting for you back home."

"You know, I'd like to hear more about those warrior elves, Mr. Frodo," Sam mused, kicking idly at the leaves near his feet. "I'd like to know what it was like for them."

Frodo raised his eyebrows at the change of subject. "Nestadren said he would tell us what he could."

"But he said he can't say what it was like for them before. When they were where we two are now. I reckon I know one thing though."

"What?"

"That Sial wouldn't have left Sian alone to just get on with things. Warrior or not a fellow would need a lot of love and care while he was goin' through something like that. Sial wouldn't have left his Sian alone."

"No, I suppose he wouldn't," Frodo agreed with a faint smile.

Sam turned over a few more thoughts. "I don't think Nestadren has known many hobbits, do you?"

"I'm not sure. Why?"

"He called me beautiful," Sam pointed out. "He couldn't have seen too many hobbits if he thinks I'm beautiful."

"Well, Sam Gamgee," Frodo said firmly, throwing his arm around his friend's shoulder companionably. "I think he's a pretty smart elf. I can't think of a fairer hobbit in all the Shire, right at this moment."

"Mebbe you're the crazy one," Sam grumbled, but his ears were flushing just the same.

"Half Baggins and half Gamgee," Frodo mused as they continued down the path. "This will be something to see."

888

Sam and Frodo learned more from Nestadren as the week crawled by.

"A slit will form here," the healer said, indicating a place where the masculine swell of Frodo's belly ended.

"A slit?" Sam repeated fearfully.

"Don't worry, Sam," Nestadren assured him. "Frodo's body will know what to do. It will begin to form in about the sixth month, and you won't notice more than itching, Frodo. When the time comes you will go into labor and the child will emerge from the slit. Then it will close and heal, leaving no more than a silvery scar."

"Another scar," Frodo joked, although he was very pale. "Just what I need."

"And the babe?" Sam asked with a dry throat. "I can't help but worry about the poor mite, doing all that hard work like banishing evil and so forth. And it still not born!"

"It won't be working in the womb, Sam," the healer assured him with a reassuring pat to his shoulder. "It's very presence will drive the evil away."

"Well, I can see that happenin' with an elf child, sir, and no mistake. Sounds like the kind of thing an elf would know how to do, even before he was born. But a hobbit babe," Sam said doubtfully. "I'm pretty sure all he'll know is how to be hungry, sir. And maybe kick a lot."

Nestadren and Frodo laughed but Sam was still worried. He was starting to get his head around the fact that he was being asked to father a child, and he couldn't help thinking that a Gamgee babe might not be up to the task of being a Child of Light. Course there was Baggins blood there too, and they were a pretty bold lot, so it might be all right.

"If the child is conceived, Sam, then he will know what to do beyond all thought. Even as he dreams and grows his light will banish the dark. And no harm will come to him. Or her."

"And if a child isn't conceived?" Frodo asked. "When will we know if it has worked?"

"The next day I will be able to perceive a life within you, Frodo, if there is one."

"And if there isn't?"

Nestadren shook his head. "We have one chance at this," he said gravely.

888

May 1420 S.R.

The night before the new moon Sam and Frodo lay close together in the big elven bed.

"It's not too late to change your mind, Sam," Frodo said quietly. "I wouldn't blame you if you did."

"Make it easier on you in a way, wouldn't it Mr. Frodo," Sam realised. "The choice would be out of your hands."

"I don't want to die," Frodo said baldly.

"But you don't want to lay with me either," Sam returned. "Or get pregnant and go through all those things Nestadren was describing. I don't blame you."

"It's not so great a price to live," Frodo said sombrely.

"Course it is!" Sam replied heatedly. "And it would be even if you was a lass, and birthin' babies came natural to you! Someone casts a spell and tells you to give your body up to another, to do something so intimate, so lovin' whether you want to or not..." Sam felt tears in his eyes and he turned his face into the pillow to hide them.

"Oh, Sam." Frodo wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pressed against him for comfort. "I'm sorry. All I've been thinking of is myself, and not about what this must be like for you. You love another, and I'm asking you to do this with me. It's not fair."

Sam rubbed his face on the cool pillow, willing the tears away. "Whoever said life's fair?" he huffed. "This whole thing just seems so... So cold blooded is all. All this planning and plotting, looking at the moon, casting spells. I'm not sure it's the way babes should be made. It's not the way love should be made."

He turned his head and looked at Frodo's worried face. "I'm not afraid to be with you," he admitted lowly. "I'm takin' the role nature made for me after all. Playin' the ram, if you'll pardon the expression."

Frodo chuckled through the tears in his eyes. "I don't think I will, no."

"You know what I mean," Sam said, heaving himself onto his side. "I have the easy part."

"Actually I've been thinking the only easy part for me in this whole thing will be laying under you," Frodo said, then flushed. "That didn't come out like I meant it to."

Sam's ears were burning again. "How did you mean it then?" he asked in a strangled voice.

Frodo rolled his eyes. "I mean all I have to do is lay there," he muttered.

"And that's the easy part?" Sam said incredulously. "That's what I was talking about before! We are not lasses! We don't just lay there! Nature meant us to plant the seed, and here you're being told to let me do the plantin'!"

"Please don't compare me to your garden."

"Tomorrow night I'm to get you pregnant, because the moon is new and some spell will be cast. I feel like this is all rushin' by too fast, and for all the talkin' we're doin' about the whys and wherefores we haven't talked about the how. How are we gonna do this?"

"It's a fair enough question."

"How about an answer then?" Sam demanded.

"I don't have one!" Frodo exploded, sitting up and pushing Sam away from him. "All right? I can't even think about you kissing me, Sam, let alone all that comes after that!"

Sam sat up in the bed and watched Frodo swing his legs around and sit on the edge, as far away from him as he could be. His face was burning again, from shame this time. His chest felt tight and he struggled to form words.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Don't apologise!" Frodo said angrily. "None of this is your fault!"

"This isn't going to work, is it?" Sam said dully. "This is supposed to be about love, Nestadren said so, but all we're doin' is tearin' at each other now."

"You started it," Frodo said bitterly, burying his face in his hands. "It's too cold for you, you said. Crying while you said it. Nestadren has it wrong, love isn't enough, not when you love another more than me. She should be with you, it's her that will bear your children, and that's as it should be. I'm a nuisance, a burden, getting in the way, asking unnatural things of you, dragging you from home!"

Sam listened in disbelief to Frodo's ranting, hearing at last the desperate edge of fear in his dear friend's voice. His body was shaking and even from here Sam could see the tears running through his fingers, silver in the moonlight. All Sam's own fear died away, withering like the autumn leaves that gathered in drifts around the gardens. Here Frodo was trying to be brave and Sam was stirring up his fears, asking questions neither of them had an answer for.

"Frodo," he whispered. Then he kneeled on the rumpled bed and took Frodo's shoulders in his strong, gardener's hands. The other hobbit shivered and shook but didn't fight him as Sam pulled him gently around and lifted his chin. Confused blue eyes opened and Frodo blinked up at him as Sam smiled tenderly. Then he leaned over and pressed a kiss to trembling lips.

Frodo gasped and Sam took a moment to run his tongue just inside the parted lips, then he closed the mouth with his own and laid one more kiss there before lifting his head.

"Now you don't have to imagine me kissing you," Sam murmured. He wrapped his arms around Frodo and lifted him into a kneeling hug, warming him and holding him close.

"You're just frightened, aren't you?" Sam said into a pointed ear. "I am too, my dear. I'm sorry I said those things, made you cry."

"I'm sorry too, Sam," Frodo shivered and gasped into his shoulder.

"I'm a clumsy fool for saying it that way," Sam said huskily. "I'm just worried for you, is all As if prattlin' on about it is gonna change it." He pulled away from Frodo and sat back on his heels. "But there is something you should know. There is no other that I love more than you, and that's as honest a truth as I can tell."

Frodo sat back too, rubbing at his wet face. "But, Sam-"

"And you're not a nuisance, or a burden, shame on you for sayin' so. If I was the one who needed help, would you call me a burden?"

"Sam," Frodo began again but Sam cut him off.

"Now let me finish, Mr. Frodo. You've had your say now I'll have mine. For the record, and I mean that book you're always scribblin' in, you did not drag me from home. Makes it sound like I have no will of my own, when as you well know the only stubborner hobbit in the world is yourself."

"Yes, Sam," Frodo agreed meekly.

"Now what else was there? Oh, yes. Rosie."

Frodo sniffed and snuffled his nose with the back of his hand. "She's waiting for you," he said softly.

"No, she isn't," Sam returned. "She might have, if I'd asked her. But I didn't. Wasn't sure when we'd be coming back, see. Or if we would at all."

"But you wanted to ask her, Sam?"

"I had my chance, Mr. Frodo. I had more than one, once we got back home. But instead I went trampin' over the Shire plantin' trees."

"You were doing what you had to," Frodo protested.

"But I didn't have to do it alone," Sam said sadly. "Mebbe she'd have come along if I asked her. She'd have waited if I asked her. But I never did."

"Why, Sam?"

"She said it, before we left this last time. I've changed. I'm different than the lad she knew. I've got these itchy feet and the bad dreams that wake me up, and the scars that don't go away."

"Maybe she could have healed those scars, Sam," Frodo said, covering his hand with his own. "If you'd stayed, given yourself some time, maybe she could have helped heal you."

"If I'd let her," Sam agreed. "Mebbe she could have. But she said something else, Frodo, that's had me thinkin'. I never have told her about what happened to us. The details like. There's been times when it's all welled up in me and she's smiled so kindly that I felt like I could, but then I think, where do I start? How do you tell that story? I don't have the right words, not to do it justice."

"I understand, Sam. I write the words too, but they can't express the way it was, what we felt, what we went through."

"I'm not sure any words can then, if you can't find them, Mr. Frodo. But see, with you, I don't have to find the words. You just know. Rosie said I only talk to you but she doesn't know that we never talked about the past all them times back at the Cotton house. That we talked more of the future."

"We don't need to talk about the past," Frodo said quietly. "It's a part of us now."

"I'm tired," Sam said, and he lay back down, pulling the covers up to his chest. Frodo lay back with a sigh too. "It doesn't matter now anyway," Sam went on, staring up at the ceiling. "I couldn't go back to the lass after all this. She wouldn't understand, and I wouldn't expect her too. This is all too big and scary for plain hobbits like us."

"Why were you so sad before, Sam?" Frodo asked lowly. "You say it's not so terrible for you to lay with me, but if you don't love another, what had you so upset?"

"It doesn't matter," Sam shrugged. "Did you mean what you said? That you can't even imagine doin' that with me?" His heart hurt again a little at the thought.

"I'm sorry," Frodo said. "I was just scared. And now you've kissed me at least I don't have to worry about that any more."

"Your lips didn't fall off or anythin'," Sam huffed, not ready to forgive quite yet.

"It was sweet and nice, actually," Frodo said thoughtfully, and Sam forgave him right away. "But you still didn't say why you got so upset?"

"Oh, it's silly," Sam said, embarrassed now.

"Please, Sam," Frodo pleaded. "Tell me what you're thinking. I need to know."

"Oh, Mr. Frodo," Sam said helplessly. "I wish I hadn't said anything now!"

"You said it was too cold blooded," Frodo recalled. "Casting spells and being intimate with another person. But if you're not afraid of being intimate with me, why did you cry?"

"Because." Sam swallowed nervously. "Because I've never done this before!"

Frodo frowned. "Neither have I, Sam," he said confusedly. "You know that. You're the first lad who's so much as kissed me." Then his eyes widened and Sam felt his ears flame up again. "Oh, Sam," he breathed. "You mean with anyone, don't you? You've never had a lover?"

"I wish I hadn't spoken," Sam groaned, turning his hot face into his pillow again.

"Now I understand," Frodo was saying. "Your first time, Sam, and of course you want it to be special, with someone you love."

"Don't be daft, it don't mean nothin'! I've fought trolls and goblins and a giant bloody spider," Sam gasped into his pillow. "Don't talk to me like I'm some moony maiden."

"Well, I've fought trolls and goblins and that bloody great spider as well," Frodo reminded him. "And if I'm allowed to be scared witless about this then you certainly are. Now look at me, Sam."

Sam moaned and buried his face deeper.

"Sam!"

Sam sighed and rolled over, mouth turned down. Then he was opening his mouth in a gasp of surprise because Frodo was leaning over and kissing him. And it wasn't a quick kiss and a flick of his tongue, it was long and lazy and gave Sam whole new levels for the word intimate, Finally he lifted his head and smiled down at Sam through the darkness.

"Why did you do that?" Sam asked, lips tingling. "We're not supposed to do that until tomorrow."

"There's a job we have for tomorrow, my lad," Frodo agreed. "And it's one I'm sure we'll be up to. But your first time's not going to be because of some spell, with all the pressure of our futures at stake."

"It isn't?" Sam said, his heart pounding.

"No," Frodo said, shaking his head slowly. "Your first time is going to be with someone you love, who loves you back, and for no other reason than because it will feel so good."

Sam swallowed hard. "How do you know it will feel good?" he asked nervously. His lips felt dry now and he dampened them with his tongue, then instantly regretted it when Frodo's eyes dropped back to his lips for a moment.

"Why I knew from the moment you kissed me," Frodo said, as if surprised he asked.

Sam's nerves faded a little as this soaked in. "Did you?"

Frodo smiled, and it was so like the old wicked smiles the young hobbit used to flash around the Shire that Sam's heart was wrung. "It was quite the nicest kiss I've ever had," he pronounced.

"Now you're teasin'," Sam accused. He was suddenly conscious that Frodo was leaning over him and their bodies were pressing together all down one side.

Frodo sobered, his eyes so tender that for a moment Sam wanted to hide away from them. "No, I'm not, Sam. I'd never tease about this." He stroked his fingers down Sam's blushing cheek and then leaned over and touched his lips to Sam's ear, feather soft. "It feels strange, doesn't it, my lad," he whispered. "Strange, but good, hmm?"

With a shamed sob Sam wrapped his arms around Frodo and pulled himself into his arms, cuddling into his neck like a small child looking for comfort.

"Oh, Sam," Frodo whispered tenderly, cradling him close. "If you'd tried for a hundred years to find a way of making all this easier for me, you couldn't have done better than this. Let me take care of you, Sam. Let me love you tonight, and tomorrow night will be your turn."

"You want to do that?" Sam stuttered. "You want to be inside me?"

"I want to make you feel good, Sam," Frodo told him sincerely. "You'll be surprised at how good just hands and lips can feel. We'll leave the other for you to find out for yourself."

"I-I'm scared," Sam admitted in a tiny voice, not sure whether he was talking about now or tomorrow, but sure that there wasn't another person in the whole world he could have whispered it to.

"Me too," Frodo whispered back. "Can we try then, my Sam? Can we see if love is enough?"

His stomach was twisted, his heart was pounding, and Sam wasn't sure how all this had turned around so suddenly. But his healthy young body was telling him that Frodo's hand felt wonderful on his face, and that Frodo's lips had made his skin tingle, and that even after all the times they'd lay side by side in the past, something was different now.

He couldn't speak, but he pulled back a little and answered with the tiniest nod of his head. Frodo smiled again, and this smile wasn't wicked at all, yet still somehow made Sam's treacherous ears flame all over again.

"You- you know what to do?"

"I know what will feel good," Frodo assured him. He leaned over and bestowed a soft, teasing kiss on Sam's lips, then one on each corner. He lifted his head and smiled into Sam's worried eyes, then kissed his lips again, opening his mouth slightly and skimming his tongue along the seam of Sam's trembling lips.

"Open your mouth, Sam," he breathed, and more from surprise than anything else Sam did.

"Oh!" Sam moaned when Frodo's tongue slipped between his lips and stroked his tongue with a tingling rasp. This was the most intimate thing he'd ever done with another person, and all he could do was shiver and clutch at Frodo's shoulders as the other hobbit playfully made love to his mouth.

Frodo lifted his slightly swollen lips and Sam managed to unstick his eye lids.

"F-Frodo," he stammered, his mouth numb and tingling.

"More?"

Sam swallowed and nodded.

He parted his lips as Frodo lowered his head, but this time Frodo's mouth found his cheek, skimming and suckling gently down to his jaw line. And all the time his hands were stroking gently, fingers caressing, finding sensitive places Sam didn't even know he had.

Sam's mind was racing, but so was his heartbeat and his pulse. This felt good, really good, but still strange, a little alien. This was Frodo touching him and stroking his lips on his skin. His friend, the person that mattered most to him in all the world.

But not his lover, for all the plans that they had made and the spells that were being cast. Sam's breathing hitched in and out as Frodo's lips found their way to his throat, soft kisses turning to sweet suckling pleasure. Sam's skin felt too hot, his chest too tight, and Frodo's body against his own all of a sudden felt too strange, too alien to be borne.

With a shudder Sam caught Frodo's hands and pushed them away from him, their fingers tangling.

"Sam?" Frodo whispered, and his wide blue eyes were hooded and a little dazed.

Sam's hands tightened on Frodo's as he tried to form the words to explain the panic that had overcome him, but as he sought his fingers found the rough stump where Frodo's own finger was missing, and just like that the alien became familiar again, the strange became normal.

"Frodo," he said, as if to reassure himself.

Frodo's eyes seemed to focus on him and understanding lit his face. "Too fast?" he murmured and Sam nodded gratefully.

"Frodo," he repeated.

"I'm here, Sam" Frodo assured him. His eyes grew a little worried. "Is it too much for you? Do you want me to stop?"

"No!" Sam exclaimed, and he meant it. This was all leading somewhere, and Sam needed to know where. There was a path here he had to take himself very soon, and he was suddenly being shown it was not going to be as easy to travel as he'd fooled himself into believing.

Between saying and doing there was this dark intimate world of warm touches and burning kisses. Familiar fingers could rouse odd feelings, lips he thought he knew could set him on fire. Something was driving him on, and he needed to find out what it was, how it would feel. Frodo was in charge now, and Sam was all of a sudden aware that Frodo was a part of a world that he, Sam, hadn't even realised existed. This was not to be borne. Not again.

"What about you, Frodo?" he asked nervously. "Does it feel good to you?"

"Can't you tell?" Frodo said, his voice husky, and then he pressed against Sam's side gently. Sam's eyes widened and his breath caught again as he felt a hard press of arousal against his thigh. "Oh, Sam," Frodo laughed low. "Do you know your ears go red when you're embarrassed?"

"So do yours," Sam defended, but he was too breathless to make much of a fuss. A liquid heat was pooling in his belly now, and suddenly who was touching him didn't seem quite as important as how. He moved restlessly and Frodo pulled him closer, his body moving over him and pressing Sam into the mattress. Now Sam could feel that burning hardness, it duelled with his own through the thin fabric of their nightshirts. The pressure made him groan and his body moved restlessly.

"Now not fast enough," Frodo observed breathlessly, and he deftly tugged Sam's nightshirt up, and then his own. Flesh met flesh and Sam's thoughts were drowned between swirling impressions of velvet hardness and liquid fire. His body bucked again but Frodo gentled him and then taught him the rhythm that he needed to ease his need, although the more he fed the hunger the more it seemed to grow. They were moving together now, slick flesh against slick flesh, Frodo's mouth on his neck, his own hands on Frodo's hips, helping the thrusts as their lower bodies duelled.

Sam never afterward knew who reached completion first, there was just an end, warmth, pleasure, deep deep pleasure that wrung him, drained him, left him breathless and panting and limp. Frodo's lips rested against his skin now, only the tip of his tongue tracing a burning place on his neck that glowed and simmered like the fire running through his veins.

Sam's heartbeat slowed, his sawing breaths eased, and slowly he became aware of Frodo's weight pressing him down, and the damp stickiness that sealed their bodies together. He pushed gently at Frodo's shoulder and with a sigh he felt him roll off. Their bodies actually made a sound as they separated, and cool air made Sam shiver as he became aware that his nightshirt was bunched up around his hips and the blankets on the bed had been kicked away.

He tugged at the hem of his shirt, wincing at the stickiness of their drying seed. Frodo pulled at the covers and Sam gratefully seized it and tugged it up.

"Sam?" Frodo murmured.

"Is- is that the way it always is?" Sam asked, embarrassed that his voice sounded so small.

"You mean so scary?" Frodo asked affectionately, taking Sam's chin between his fingers and tilting his head to look into his eyes. Sam ducked his head, but after a moment found himself peering up and meeting that familiar blue gaze.

"You didn't seem scared," Sam said in surprise. "Were you really?"

"I still am, a bit," Frodo confided. "I wanted to make it good for you, but I got so carried away making myself feel good I kind of lost control."

Sam's nerves settled and he relaxed a little back into the mattress. His bones felt all melty, his skin felt kind of shimmering and tender. And Frodo's eyes, although a little anxious, seemed all of a sudden languorous and drowsy, as if he too was feeling wonderful inside.

"Did I really make you lose control?" Sam marvelled. "Fancy that!"

Frodo smiled and curled up next to him on the mattress. "I'm a bit surprised myself," he admitted. "I was already feeling very good indeed, and then suddenly I was overwhelmed."

"Me too!" Sam exclaimed. "I was nervous and feeling queer about it all, and then I just suddenly knew what to do." He ducked his head a little again. "Well, maybe not exactly what to do. You showed me the way."

Frodo leaned forward and laid his forehead against Sam's. "Thank you for trusting me enough to let me show you the way," he whispered. "Tomorrow we'll trust each other, hmm? And learn something new together."

"Oh, tomorrow!" Sam exclaimed. "I'd forgotten all about it!"

Frodo threw his head back and laughed uproariously, and Sam buried his face in his pillow again.

"There go my flamin' ears," he groaned and Frodo pulled him close and cuddled him for a moment.

"Ugh," they both said together, and then pulled apart.

"I'll get us a cloth," Sam said, still flushed. He sat up and the world spun a little. Frodo sat up too and rubbed his back gently.

"I'll get the cloth," he volunteered. "You get us some fresh nightshirts. I'd say we could manage without them, but this place doesn't get any warmer."

Sam nodded and shivered a little in the cold air. He found them two more nightshirts and pulled his own off, wiping absently at his belly with the soft fabric.

"This will work better," Frodo said, and he handed over a damp cloth. Sam yelped at the cool dampness, and made short work of the cleanup. He was still shivering by the time he scrambled back into bed and the two hobbits cuddled together under the covers, cold feet tangling.

"Well," Sam yawned against Frodo's shoulder. "I wasn't expectin' all that."

"No," Frodo agreed sleepily. He slipped chilled fingers under Sam's arms and sighed at the warmth. Sam squirmed and returned the favour.

Sam thought he should say something more, but Frodo's eyes were already closed and his own were drooping. They'd have plenty of time to talk, Sam thought as he drifted off to sleep. All the time in the world.

888

In the morning they awoke still cuddled together, and for a few moments it seemed like any ordinary day to Sam. He shifted and sighed, wishing he could stay warm but aware now of a growing need to pee. Frodo was snuffling in a dozing sleep next to him and Sam twitched uncomfortably, scratching idly at his belly.

The covers shifted and the scents of their bodies wafted out, sweet, spicy, different. Recollection returned full force as an aching tenderness in his lower body and the flaky itchiness low on his belly connected all at once. Sam's eyes flew open just as Frodo's lashes flickered and lifted. Totally unprepared to face his friend after all that had happened the night before Sam shot backwards off the bed and raced for the bathroom.

Need relieved, Sam stood in the doorway of their room, shifting nervously from one foot to another on the chill tiled floor. He could see Frodo sitting up on the edge of the bed with his back to him, stretching his arms out in a yawn, rubbing idly at his tousled curls. His nightshirt was riding up and Sam looked away as a hint of pale flesh was revealed in the stretch. He wasn't ready to think about how much of that familiar flesh had been pressed up against him last night. He really wasn't ready to think about how much more of it he would see and touch tonight.

Frodo turned his head and looked over at him. "Sam?"

"I'm starved," Sam said hurriedly, reaching for his clothes and shaking them out.

"Are you all right?" Frodo slid off the bed and came towards him and Sam took a quick step back and then realised he was holding his pants up to his chest like a shield.

"Foolish question," Frodo said, stopping in his tracks. He raised his brow quizzically but Sam looked away and pulled his britches on under his nightshirt. Then he grabbed a weskit and backed towards the door, braces still trailing.

"I'm going for breakfast," he muttered, eyes still on his feet. Then he was through the door and away like a hare chased by a fox. He didn't stop running until he reached a quiet part of a garden he didn't remember seeing before. Then he stopped and leaned against a tree, panting and feeling like a darn fool.

"Samwise you idiot," he puffed, rubbing a shaking hand over his face. Wasn't he the one who'd begged Frodo not to treat him like some moony maiden the night before? And here he was blushing and running like a swooning tweeny lass.

"I suppose I should leave you alone," Frodo said behind him and Sam jumped. Hobbits could move wonderful quiet when they wanted, and Frodo had taken him by surprise. Sam really wanted to say something that would break the tension he was feeling but the words wouldn't come. Words never did come easily to him.

"But time is moving on, Sam, and today is the last chance we have to change our minds. Have I ruined everything?" Frodo asked him quietly, laying a hand on his shoulder.

Words really didn't come easily, but actions did, and Sam lifted his hand and gripped Frodo's where it rested on his shoulder. He didn't turn around though, still not quite ready to face those perceptive blue eyes.

"Why won't you look at me, Sam?"

"I- I," Sam tried to gather his thoughts. "I feel a bit of a fool, is all," he muttered, chin on his chest. "Cryin' and makin' such a fuss last night. I should of kept it to myself."

"Why, Sam?" Frodo asked deeply. "Why should you think you had to keep something like that a secret? Did you think I'd - I'd laugh? Make fun?" There was real hurt in Frodo's voice and Sam's soft heart wrung. He turned and looked his friend in the eye at last.

"Of course not!" he denied. "I know you'd never tease me about summat like that."

"Then why not share that with me? We've known each other most of our lives, Sam. We're about make a new life together, if you can believe that! Why not trust me?"

"It's not about trust," Sam said moodily, kicking at some dry leaves at his feet. He stepped back and leaned against a tree. "I've just been takin' care of you so long, it's got to be habit, that's all. When all this come up, and it seemed there was this spell to be cast, I felt like it fell to me to take charge. Like I took charge and brought us here to find a way to make you well. How could I admit that the one thing you needed from me now was summat I had no clue how to give you?" He slumped against the tree. "I still don't," he muttered.

"You seemed to pick it all up pretty quickly last night," Frodo said softly, and Sam saw a glimmer of a smile around his lips.

"Yeah, well, you were leading the way," Sam returned gruffly.

"I'm only slightly more experienced than you, Sam," Frodo revealed, his blue eyes clear and direct. "And it's been a very long time for me since I've shared anything approaching what we had last night. But if I led the way at times you still showed me a thing or two."

Sam recalled the last desperate moments of their coupling, Frodo's moans of passion, his own abandonment to pleasure. "It did seem a bit of a surprise," he allowed reflectively. "I never would have thought it could be like that. That someone could touch me and it would be like... like fire."

"I don't think it would happen with just anyone, Sam," Frodo mused. "That's why I haven't had much experience since I grew up. To be that intimate with someone I have to really trust them, care for them."

"Yes," Sam agreed thoughtfully. "Come to think of it I can't imagine letting anyone else do what you did last night." He ducked his head shyly. "What we did together, I mean."

"So I haven't ruined it then?"

"I thought I'd ruined it, acting all wet like that!" Sam exclaimed. "Thing is, I'm still not sure how it will be, you know, tonight. Are you?"

"We can only do our best, Sam." Frodo wrapped his arms about his middle and gazed out at the vista of trees and rocks around them. "It might be, dear Sam, that it's not our fate to succeed at this."

Sam frowned. "What do you mean?"

"It just seems as if we're being selfish expecting an elven spell to solve all our troubles. We set out to save the Shire, Sam, and it has been saved. My dearest wish after that was that you should get home, live safely there. It seems too much to ask now, for me to have a happy ending as well."

"But why?" Sam asked, heart breaking at the solemn sadness in Frodo's face. "Why should it be selfish to want to live?"

"What if there's more than Morgul poison at work inside me, Sam? I bore that evil thing across the world, its left its own mark on me. What if that poison can't be cured?"

"It's left a wound inside you," Sam said shakily. "But wounds heal, if you let them. Don't give up on me now, Frodo. You didn't give up then, did you? You walked until you couldn't walk any more, and when you couldn't walk you crawled."

Frodo reached up and cupped Sam's cheek gently with his mutilated hand. "And when I couldn't crawl you carried me."

"Then let me carry you now," Sam begged. "Don't give up when we're so close to finding our way. Please!"

Frodo kept his eyes on the distance, his face still and pale as he seemed to turn Sam's words over in his head. "All right, Sam," he said at last. Before Sam could smile his relief Frodo turned and looked at him gravely. "But if this spell doesn't work, then I'll take it that it wasn't meant to. And that will be an end to it. No more haring off over the world looking for a cure, all right?"

"But-" Sam began. Frodo pressed a tear damp finger to his lips.

"I mean it, Sam. If this doesn't work we'll go back home, to the Shire. Whatever time I have left I want to spend in Bag End."

There was no mistaking the determination in his eyes and Sam swallowed all his arguments. There'd been enough tension between them, and if this did fail he'd have time to muster more arguments later. For now he wanted harmony between them, a return to peace.

He nodded his agreement, and Frodo smiled and took his hand.

"Thank you for understanding, Sam," he said gratefully.

Sam lifted his hand and kissed it, as he had a hundred times before. Then he grasped it more firmly and began to haul his friend along. "It's goin' to be a long day," he pronounced. "And now I really am starved."

888

What it was was an odd day, as by unspoken agreement all talk of what was to come was put aside. Instead they wandered the peaceful forever autumn of Elrond's realm together, discussing all the changes they would make in Bag End's garden when they returned home. They laid out the flower garden, and the vegetables, and even talked about fruit trees and a small orchard behind the hole. As the day wore on however, Frodo seemed to grow more and more distant, he spoke less and drew away from Sam's touch. Finally before the evening meal they separated and didn't meet again until the appointed time outside Nestadren's study. Frodo was pale and silent.

Nestadren greeted them warmly but although his glance lingered long on Frodo's bent head he did not comment upon his obvious withdrawal. Instead he gathered up a soft grey pouch and led them out of the low stone building and down a paved path. Oddly Sam noticed it was the path he had fled down this morning, as if his feet even then knew what journey they must make. They walked a long way, past the lip of the gorge and then back down onto an unpaved track, worn smooth by the soft tread of the elves.

Finally they came to a pavilion in the trees, so covered with vines and creepers that it was almost indistinguishable from the old forest around them. In the late afternoon light it seemed to slumber, and even bird song was muted and hushed.

"All has been prepared for you," Nestadren said, his own voice soft. "When the spell is cast I will leave you, and from that time until the morning light appears no one will be able to come or go from this glade. Here you will be cocooned from the world while the spell does its work within you."

He led the way up the worn steps and pushed open a smooth wooden door. Inside was a large round bed and Sam looked away from it in sudden embarrassment.

"Sit," Nestadren invited, and to his relief Sam saw he was indicating a low lounge, its velvet cover soft and smooth with age.

They sat side by side but not touching, and Sam tried hard not to let his worry show. They were inches apart, and yet he felt further from Frodo than he ever had.

"Sam," Nestadren said kindly. "No magic need be performed on you, but would you like to hold Frodo's hand? I think he is scared and worried, and it might make him feel better."

Sam wished it was Frodo who'd asked for his hand, it almost felt like an intrusion for him to reach out and take the trembling fingers in his. Now that the time had come it all seemed impossible, ridiculous. This was elven magic, high and distant, way beyond two plain hobbits from the Shire. Their work was gardens and books, not mystical spells and moon magic. This was beyond them, a door closed to ordinary folk, and they were sad fools for ever believing different.

Hope left him then, and it was for his own comfort now that he clutched Frodo's fingers and listened while Nestadren chanted elven words and crumbled leaves around them. There was more to the spell, much more, but ever afterwards when Sam tried to recall it all he could grasp were vague memories. He thought perhaps there was a song, but the tune escaped him, like a silvery fish darting through a nipper's fingers in a shallow stream.

And then, suddenly, Nestadren was rising and standing before them. He laid a large gentle hand on each of their heads and blessed them quietly in elvish and then the common tongue. Then with a swish of his robes he was gone.

Sam couldn't help studying Frodo then, even though he no longer believed in the miracle cure he'd so longed for. Was there a change in his friend? Could there be some sign of this magic on him?

But Frodo looked no different as he sat there, his head bowed, his hand lying slack in Sam's.

"What are we doing here?" he finally said hoarsely. "Sam, what did we think we were doing? This is not for us."

"I know," Sam admitted, and in a way it was like a weight being lifted from him. He heaved a deep breath. "I know it's not."

Frodo sought his glance and his eyes were dark and shadowed. "I should have listened to you when you first spoke of this. It's crazy, unnatural."

"Maybe if we was elves," Sam agreed solemnly. "Like that Sian and Sial. Hobbits don't have magic, leastwise not high magic like this. All our magic lies in the good earth and coaxin' the life out of it. Life can't come from us, Frodo. Not two plain hobbits like us."

"I wanted so much for there to be a cure, Sam. For your sake as well as mine. It was nice to believe, for a while, that there was a future for us together in the Shire."

Tears pricked Sam's eyes. "All our plans for the garden," he said lowly. "And for Bag End. I bet Merry and Pippin have it looking right good by now. It's all cozy and warm and waitin' for us. Shame I ever dragged you away from it."

Frodo tightened his grip on Sam's hand. "You did it for me, I know," he said gratefully. "Like you went along with all this for me."

"Went along?" Sam marvelled. "It's a wonder you don't have a print on your back from my hand pushin' you along, Mr. Frodo!"

Frodo looked around the room, eyes lingering on the big round bed. It did look inviting, all crisp sheets and soft embroidered quilts. But it was unnecessary now, almost cruel, a reminder of their scattered hopes and dreams.

"What now?" Frodo said, his voice lost.

"We'll go home tomorrow," Sam said huskily. "Leave all this behind us. Why, I bet by the time we cross the Brandywine into the Shire it will all seem like some dream."

"Will we forget it, do you think?" Frodo caught his eyes and gazed at him. "Will we forget everything?"

Suddenly Sam couldn't help himself, he reached out and gathered Frodo's drooping form to his breast. "I don't want to forget," he cried into Frodo's throat. "For a while we had it all, I don't want to forget that!"

"Sam," Frodo whispered, holding him close and rocking him. "I don't want to forget either, I know I never shall. No matter what happens I want to hold on to the memory of last night, when we were closer than I thought any two people could be. You gave yourself so sweetly, my dear, so sweetly. We were so hungry for one another, it was like we were starving all that time and didn't know it, like parched earth soaking up a soft gentle rain."

Sam nodded fiercely. "Then I don't regret coming here," he vowed. "Even if it's not the end we hoped for, I don't regret it. Why, when I think I might have gone my whole life never knowing what it was like to kiss you, or be kissed by you, it just hollows me out inside, makes my heart hurt."

Frodo nodded too, his soft fragrant curls stroking Sam's skin, his hands stroking Sam's back for comfort.

"Frodo," Sam whispered in his delicately pointed ear. "I wanted so to heal you, with love the way Nestadren said." He pulled back a little and looked into Frodo's eyes. "Now I just want to love you, the way you did me last night."

Frodo's face was wondering. "You want that, Sam?"

"I do. And not for any spell, or moon magic, my dear. Just because I'm hungry for you again, and if this is the dream we leave behind us I want it to be the sweetest dream we could share."

"Sam."

"We don't have to, if you don't want to. Even if we don't do more than cuddle together in that big nest of a bed, and maybe kiss a little bit, I'll be happy."

"I do want to, Sam," Frodo said, smile trembling. "My Sam, I want that more than anything."

There were no nerves or fear in them when they undressed this time, no blushes or hidden looks. They simply took off their clothes and climbed naked into the bed, drawing together naturally under the big quilt.

"It's warmer than the one in our room," Sam observed, snuggling his toes down between the crisp sheets. Frodo tangled their feet together and stroked his curls on Sam's ankles. A shiver ran through them both.

"Softer too," Frodo agreed huskily.

"Your skin's fairer than mine," Sam marvelled as their chests touched. "Oh, it feels good to touch you all down me like this."

"We didn't even take off our nightshirts last night," Frodo chuckled into Sam's neck.

"We didn't did we," Sam chuckled. He stroked his callused hands down the wings of Frodo's shoulder blades, loving the feel of the smooth flesh, and the shiver that shook that narrow frame. "You need some feedin' up, Frodo," he observed.

Frodo nodded, his own hands stroking Sam's shoulders and down his front, tangling in his chest hair. "I've always been too thin," he agreed, breathing in Sam's scent and sighing pleasurably. "I like how solid you feel against me, Sam."

"And it don't feel queer to you," Sam asked curiously. "Us both bein' lads?" He shuddered a little as the proof of them both being lads touched and stroked.

"Uh, no," Frodo gasped. "Does it to you?"

"I've never known any different," he reminded Frodo, his hands now finding the swell of Frodo's backside and sliding boldly down over it.

"Um, oh, Sam," Frodo quivered, as Sam's hands cupped the soft globes appreciatively. "Right now I find it hard to believe that! You seem to know just what to do!"

"Just following my nose, so to speak," Sam said smugly, and then he followed his instincts and began to put into practice all he'd learned of kissing the night before. It was his own turn to squirm as Frodo's hands stroked down and cupped his sturdy buttocks, and then all thought of just cuddling went out the window as ardent young flesh met and mingled. They both found the rhythm naturally this time, and soon they were rocking together and moaning each other's names in mutual passion and joy.

Their pleasure exploded and this time Sam didn't push Frodo away after their passion had spilled, he held him even closer if that was possible, still moving his body languidly against Frodo's, still stroking, hands less urgent now, more gentle and soothing.

Finally Frodo rolled off him, but he didn't go far, they stayed locked together from chest to thigh, heads close together on the pillow. Sam ran his hand down his chest, stroking the milky fluid into his skin, massaging it into his belly. Frodo's hand joined his and they stroked together, as if marvelling at the proof of their passion.

"I'm that parched earth," Sam joked. "Soaking up your rain."

"Plenty of your rain here too, Sam," Frodo smiled back. He lifted a hand to his lips and licked one of his fingers, eyes curious. Sam shivered, feeling with disbelief another shot of pure arousal through him. Frodo was close enough to feel the jerk of his body and his smile widened appreciatively.

"You like that?"

"Um, how does it taste?" Sam answered the question with one of his own.

"Try it," Frodo invited, extending his finger invitingly.

Sam swallowed, but he couldn't refuse, curiosity and lust burnt within him, and when the finger reached his lips he didn't just extend his tongue, he took the entire tip of it in his mouth, suckling the salty seed, licking languorously at the quivering flesh.

Now passion darkened Frodo's eyes and he licked his lips, gazing at Sam's mouth as he slowly pulled his finger away.

"That's your seed, Sam," Frodo whispered roughly. "It was supposed to spill inside me tonight, I even prepared my body to receive it."

Sam's eyes widened in shock. "How?" he quavered.

Frodo took his hand and guided it down his body, past his hardening shaft, past his firm sac, down to the warm dark hidden place between his legs. Here Sam's fingers found a slickness he had not expected. There was scent too, rising above the musk of their bodies.

"You oiled yourself?" Sam whispered in disbelief. "You made yourself ready for me?"

"I wanted it to be good, Sam. To be easy."

Tears pricked Sam's eyes and his heart swelled in his chest, almost choking him with love. "You were so scared and worried," Sam managed, throat tight. "You were so pale and silent today you fair broke my heart. But you still did this, you made yourself ready for me."

"For your seed," Frodo nodded fiercely. "I still want it, Sam. Even if it never quickens inside me, I want it. Even if I have to let you go and have a future without me, I will still have that part of you, inside me, forever."

"Frodo," Sam choked, and then he was kissing him wildly, all his new found skills forgotten as he pressed Frodo back into the bed and ravished his mouth, his throat, his neck. Frodo met his ferocity with his own, his fingers bruised as they tried to touch Sam everywhere at once, clutching at his shoulders and then down to his hips, guiding him as Sam pushed between Frodo's legs, widening his stance, pushing his knees up high.

There was no fumbling now, instinct and love and pure passion guided him as his blunt shaft found the portal that had been prepared for him and nudged against it.

"Don't let me hurt you," Sam begged, beyond stopping himself. He pushed, feeling the slickness welcome him in a little way, then he withdrew and pushed again, broaching the tightness, groaning as it engulfed him. "Don't let me hurt you!" he cried again, but Frodo was setting the pace now, legs wrapped around Sam's waist, head flung back as Sam pushed into him, gaining inch by inch, feeling the buttery heat surround and absorb him.

"Sam!" Frodo cried, his hands fumbling between them. Sam pushed his last inch in and grasped Frodo's thighs, pulling him up even higher so that there was no space between them, only Sam buried in Frodo, Frodo engulfing Sam.

"All right?" Sam managed, every instinct begging him to thrust, only love holding him back as he panted over Frodo, waiting for the eyes to open, to tell him to move. But Frodo seemed lost to the passion himself, his head was flung back, his hands were on his own hardness, stroking it, pushing it up against Sam's belly.

"Frodo!"

"Please," Frodo finally said, eyes opening to slits. "Don't stop, Sam. I need, I need."

It was the signal Sam needed too and he began to thrust, strong back and thigh muscles working as he pulled out of Frodo as far as he could bear before driving back in. Frodo cried out as he drew away, mewled as he thrust, pushing his own body up, his hand a blur on his own hardness. Frodo came, long drawn out spurts but still Sam thrust, lost to passion, drowned in love, the rhythm driving him in the push pull of his body, the beat of his heart, the thrum of his pulse.

Frodo's legs were still locked around his waist, his head still thrown back in the pillow when Sam finally began the shorter harder thrusts that would lead him to completion. Frodo moaned his name and then opened his eyes, and as Sam came they gazed right at each other, right into each other, souls open as Sam's seed spilled inside Frodo, filled, him, overflowed, bound them together, forever if they but knew it.

Sam was panting as he collapsed on Frodo, sweat dripping off his forehead, running down his cheeks. Frodo's chest was rising and falling beneath him as if he had been running, his own body was slick with perspiration and seed.

"My dear Sam," Frodo was whispering.

"My love," Sam whispered back. Tears were mingling with the sweat now, but he hid them from Frodo, burying his face in his neck. Frodo seemed to understand though, his hands stroked Sam's back lovingly, comforting him for long minutes while their heartbeats slowed and their breathing eased.

Finally they had to separate and Sam reluctantly pulled his softness out and away, gathering Frodo to his side and cuddling him close.

"Did I hurt you?" he whispered.

"Only when you left me," Frodo whispered back, and Sam understood.

888

Bird song awoke Sam, just as the silvery light of dawn crept in through the wide windows. It was cool in the little pavilion, but Sam was warmed by the sleeping body that was nestled against him. Frodo's head rested on Sam's shoulder, his eyes fluttered a little as he slept, impossibly long lashes stirring. His skin was cream smooth, pale with a light flush on his fine cheek bones. Sam breathed in a sigh of pure delight at the sight of him.

How can he always take my breath away?

When did that happen? When did all this happen exactly? Last night Frodo said we came together as if starved for each without knowing it. All those times we held each other for comfort, all the times I pressed my lips to his hand, his brow, was I hungry for his touch? I know I never imagined anything like this before. But now I can't imagine going back to not knowing. To not feeling free to lean over and stroke the curls off his brow or run my thumb over his lips.

Does he feel the same way? That night when he gave me my first time, what was he feeling? I know he loves me, the love long unspoken between us, seared into us by trial and fire. But when he kissed me so deeply, when he lay his flushed body on mine and showed me the way, what was he feeling then?

Where are the lines drawn in this love of ours? Are there any? Is there anything he wouldn't let me do now, anything I wouldn't ask him to do?

Once I was content to be his friend, honoured that such a fine hobbit would take to me, laugh with me, confide in me. Once my greatest gift was to see him smile, to make him laugh. All I wanted then was to be near him and to take care of him.

But what does he want? When this spell is lifted and we go home, what are we going to? Not master and servant, that's far behind us now. Are we still friends? Can we stay lovers? Or is this all I get, these nights of passion, these sweet dreams?

Please, Sam thought. Please.

"I wish." Sam was startled by Frodo's soft voice. Long lashes stirred again and Frodo opened his wide blue eyes. His lashes were wet and spiky.

"What do you wish, Frodo?"

Make your wish, my love. If this isn't the time for wishes, I don't know when is.

But Frodo didn't seem to have any words, so they lay together in silence and watched the sun rise.

888

When Nestadren arrived they were sitting side by side where he had left them the night before, hands still clasped.

Sam was miserably aware of time passing as Nestadren climbed the stone steps, pushed open the door, crossed the room to where they sat. Every second ticking away measured the end of the dream, every second took them closer to reality, outside the veil that had held them captive all night. Nestadren approached and loomed over them and Frodo tilted his head back and looked at him, dread on his face, in his eyes. His face was pale and his lips were compressed as the healer crouched before him and reached for his hands.

Sam's hand felt cold when Frodo lifted his own away, cold and empty. To stop them trembling he clasped them in his lap, eyes fixed on Frodo as Nestadren held his hands and stared deeply into his eyes.

Nestadren's eyes closed and he frowned, his smooth skin wrinkling. Then he opened his eyes again and laid Frodo's hand back in Sam's.

Sam's breath sobbed as a smile lit up the elf's face.

"Rejoice, my friends," he said quietly. "For your healing has begun."

888

Sam couldn't even move to turn his head. His eyes flicked to Frodo and saw that he too was frozen in shock. Nestadren seemed to understand, he perched on the edge of the seat he had sat on the night before and nodded his head.

"It is so," he confirmed. "New life is within you, Frodo. Can't you feel it?"

"I... I feel..." Frodo's small voice trailed away and he raised a hand to his chest. "I don't think I feel any different."

Sam opened his mouth but found he had nothing to say that would actually come out, so he closed it again.

"Are you sure?" Frodo asked and Sam nodded vigorously. That's it! That's what he was going to ask!

Nestadren nodded again, his smile curving up a bit more at the edges. "Yes."

Sam looked at Frodo again out of the corner of his eye.

Again Sam got the impression he should be saying something but he still wasn't sure what. They should be hugging now, right? Rejoicing? For some reason the spell had worked and Frodo was going to get well. This really called for words.

"Um," Sam managed. "Are you really sure?"

Nestadren threw back his head and laughed. "Are all hobbits so skeptical? I assure you, my good friends, it is done. And done by all of us, for elven magic alone could not have brought this about. In love a Child of Light has been conceived." Frodo's free hand still rested on his chest and Nestadren gently reached out and tugged it further down until it rested on the masculine swell of his belly. "It is here you should lay your hand, Frodo. Here lies nestled the beginnings of your son."

"Son," Sam repeated and he actually felt the blood draining away from his face. Frodo looked down at his hand. If his eyes were any wider they would have swallowed his whole face.

"I fear that my skills as a mage have been called into question," Nestadren said, as if to himself. "Did either of you actually believe this spell would work at all?"

"We did!" Sam hastened to assure him. He faltered a little as Nestadren looked at him and raised a brow. "Mostly," Sam finished weakly. He swallowed, finally allowing himself to look at Frodo. The young hobbit still sat with his hand limp on his belly.

"I think I'm going to be sick," Frodo said, gulping.

Sam's protective instincts were roused and he let go of Frodo's hand and rubbed his back soothingly.

"Shall I get you a glass of water?"

"I see Frodo's confidence in me never waned either," Nestadren observed dryly.

"We had so much hope at first," Frodo said dazedly. "But I'm afraid last night we quite convinced ourselves it wasn't going to work."

"Nothin' to do with your skills," Sam put in swiftly. "Just, us being hobbits and all, we thought your elf magic a bit beyond us, if you take my meanin'."

Nestadren stood up and laid a hand on both their heads, as he had the night before. "I will leave you alone while you absorb this news then. If you had given up hope I expect seeing it completely fulfilled is a bit of a shock to you." He bowed and walked over to the door. Then he turned and smiled. "In case you didn't hear me before, rejoice! Your healing has begun!"

And now Sam did hear it and take it in. They had done it! Frodo was going to live!

Sam put his face in his hands and started to cry.

"Oh, Sam," Frodo murmured. He wrapped his arms around Sam and Sam's own arms came up and held him against his breast fiercely.

"You're goin' to be all right," Sam wept brokenly. "Frodo, Frodo."

"Yes, Sam. It's going to be all right."

888

When they emerged into the new day it felt to Sam as if Frodo had never seen the sun before. He blinked for a moment and held his hand up as if to shield is eyes from it, and then he smiled and wrinkled his nose. Tilting his head back he turned to the east and he faced the morning, the light gilding his face, stroking it, caressing it. His smile widened and then he laughed, throwing his head back and spreading his arms out as if to gather all the sunshine to him.

Understanding lit Sam's eyes. "You feel it, don't you?"

"I feel... full, Sam." Frodo tilted his head at him and grinned. "It's probably just relief, or maybe it's shock." He chuckled, shaking his head. "That's it, I'm in shock."

Joy bubbled up in Sam as he caught the mood. "Now, Mr. Frodo," he teased, catching the outflung hands and swinging his friend in a circle. "What do you have to be so giddy about?"

"Giddy?" Frodo laughed, doing his share of the swinging so that Sam had to skip to keep up. "That's the right word, Sam! Giddy, and full and in shock!"

"Shock!" Sam repeated. "Shock all 'round! Shock for everybody!" They spun and twirled in the clearing, faces turned up the sun, spinning until they both lost their feet and landed on the ground with a bump.

Frodo collapsed on the grass and flung his head back, weak with laughter.

"Careful," Sam wheezed, rolling onto his back and clutching his aching chest. "You're spinnin' for two now! Remember the babe and don't overdo."

"Uh uh, Sam," Frodo chided, hauling himself over and straddling Sam's hips. "I won't have talk like that." He planted a hand on each side of Sam's head and leaned over him, his lips still twitching with joy. "Let me get over my giddy shock before you start talking about all that."

"All what?" Sam puzzled, reaching up and catching Frodo's narrow hips between strong hands. "You mean the babe?"

The words hardly escaped his lips before Frodo was smothering them with his own. Surprised but pleased Sam returned the kiss as best he could, sliding his hands up to Frodo's shoulders and pulling him down until he lay on top of him.

Well, now he knew that the intimacy wasn't going to stop just because the goal had been reached. That was a relief.

"No babe," Frodo murmured into his mouth. "No talk about all that, all right?"

Sam took charge and rolled, easily laying Frodo on his back and half covering him. He enjoyed another leisurely kiss before pulling away. "I don't see how we can ignore it," he observed lazily, licking at his lips and enjoying the Frodo aftertaste. "Since it's the reason you're feeling so frisky."

"Frisky and giddy," Frodo teased, reaching up and locking his hands behind Sam's head. "But still not quite ready to think about it all yet, Sam." His eyes grew serious for a moment. "All right, Sam?"

Sam nodded, not quite understanding, but willing to go along if it kept Frodo this happy. "Whatever you say," he agreed, before leaning down for another kiss.

888

That night Sam felt a little nervous as he sat on the edge of the bed, but Frodo drew him close and hugged him tightly.

"Sam?" he whispered. "Thank you for last night. It was beautiful."

"I never knew anything could feel so good," Sam said in wonder. "Did you?"

"Took me quite by surprise," Frodo revealed. "Although it shouldn't have after the night before." He ran his hands down Sam's muscular back with a pleased hum.

"If anyone had told me I could want something like that," he whispered, his red cheek against Sam's. "I'd have fallen over in shock."

Sam kissed the blushing curve and took a deep breath.

"Do you want me like that?" he burst out, ears burning.

Frodo drew back in surprise. "I don't know," he confessed thoughtfully. "I think I should, Sam, if it feels as good giving as taking."

"It does," Sam said fervently. "Feel good I mean," he added hastily. "As I've only given not taken I can't speak for the other." His ears burned and he closed his eyes crossly. "Bother."

"Dear, Sam," Frodo laughed huskily. "I think I will want you every way there is. But for now let's practice the other ways, hmm? Hands and mouth and hugging still take a little getting used to."

"And me taking you?" Sam managed. "Maybe we shouldn't be doing that either, you carrying and all."

"Sam," Frodo chided. "Please let's not talk about it yet, all right? For my sake? I've so much swirling around in my head, I can't think any further than today and tomorrow. All right?"

"All right," Sam agreed, bewilderedly. "My head's spinning too."

"Sam," Frodo whispered. "I love you."

Sam's heart sang. "I love you too," he said joyfully.

888

As the days went by Frodo bloomed like a rose . His appetite returned to its usual glory and Sam marvelled. He'd quite forgotten that Frodo could eat like that. They spent their days in the sunshine, reading, singing old songs and making up new. They walked the length and breadth of Rivendell, stopping only to sample the basket of food provided by its kitchens. They admired the trees and gardens, and Sam secured the promise of seeds and cutting to take back to the Shire when they went.

Needing the activity Sam begged a corner of garden for himself and Frodo from Lord Elrond, who happily agreed.

"Neglect is settling in some corners," he said sadly. "There is a place I have in mind that you might like. I would be honoured if you could give it a new lease on life."

It was a wild tangle, but Sam's good gardener eye could see the finely laid out beds and overgrown shrubs. It was late in the season to be pruning back, but he thought the even climate would make up for it. He and Frodo spent happy days making plans and beginning work.

Of course there was no outward sign of pregnancy on Frodo yet, and Sam soon learned not to mention the subject, even idly. Frodo would change the subject, or walk away, or even stop his mouth with kisses.

"We have plenty of time, Sam," he would breath delightfully into Sam's ear. "Let's just enjoy the sunshine, hmm?"

And taken with delight, Sam could only agree.

888

June 1420 S.R.

"I haven't even thanked you yet," Sam said shyly.

"Seeing Frodo so well is thanks enough for me," Nestadren said with a smile.

"He is well," Sam agreed. He looked down at his hands in his lap, his fingers were twisting nervously. "But he's also... I don't know. He won't talk about what's happenin' to him! And he won't let me talk about it neither. I'm fair mazed, I don't know what to do."

"It's understandable though, isn't it?" the healer said perceptively. "All your efforts were bent on getting you so far, little thought would have been spared for after."

"But now it is after, we have to think about practical things."

"You have time, Sam, for the practical. For Frodo this time is for healing, and coming to terms with what now sleeps inside him."

"But if he won't even talk about it, how can he come to terms with it?"

"Frodo's body knows what to do, Sam, and I think Frodo's heart knows what it needs now too. He's doing all the right things, eating well, exercising."

"He soaks up the sun," Sam agreed. "Fair revels in it, it does my heart good to see him."

'The sun," Nestadren mused. "How interesting."

"Well, he's a hobbit after all," Sam pointed out. "We live close to the earth in all things. And I know when I've been poorly that getting back out in the sun and feeling the wind on my face brings me right back up."

"Yes." Nestadren turned to him with a smile. "Don't worry about tomorrow now, Sam. Frodo doesn't need that pressure. For now, concentrate on today, on getting him well, taking care of him. What you must remember is that Frodo is not a female, even though his body is being asked to bear a female task. He hasn't the instincts of a female in this situation."

"Like nestin' and such like?"

"Exactly. Sam, Frodo may never feel towards this child what you or I think he should. It may be that it will always be a burden to him, something he has had to bear to get well. If that's the case he will need all your love and understanding."

"I never thought of that," Sam said, his heart aching a little. "That poor little mite inside him. I hope it don't feel that from him."

"You task, Sam will be to love the both of them," Nestadren said firmly. "Never doubt that the child will feel your love, even though yours is not the body that bears him. Love and protect them both, Sam, that is your role now. Can you do that?"

"Course I can!" Sam cried, jumping to his feet. "Why, sometimes I think that's what I was born for, takin' care of Mr. Frodo."

"He will need it in the days and months ahead. Soon enough he will no longer be able to ignore this. When he needs me, come to me at any time."

"Thank you."

888

August 1420. S.R.

"You're ticklish!" Frodo exclaimed as Sam squirmed beneath exploring fingers.

"Don't," Sam gasped, laughter stealing his breath.

"Oh, but I must!" Frodo declared, teasing fingers delving beneath Sam's arms, which he held close to his body. Giggling and laughing they wriggled, Sam rolling on top of Frodo and then the other hobbit gaining the upper hand, all the time his clever fingers stroking under Sam's arms, down his side to his stomach.

"Surrender!" Frodo finally declared, straddling Sam's belly, holding his hands high above his head.

"I give!" Sam wheezed, tears of joyful laughter rolling down his cheeks. "You bully!"

Frodo shifted his weight back a little with a gleeful laugh, surveying Sam spread out beneath him like a conqueror surveys his prize. Sam gazed up at him, his eyes still creased with helpless laughter. How beautiful Frodo looked in the bright morning sunlight! His curls bounced with life and vitality, his skin fair glowed, impossibly smooth. And his eyes, Sam had forgotten how wicked and fey they could be, lit up from within like a lantern, heartbreaking blue, forget-me-nots aflame.

His heart must have been in his own eyes because Frodo's teasing expression faded as he gazed down at him, and those impossible eyes softened.

"Sam," he murmured, as he did a dozen times a day, and as it did a dozen times a day Sam's heart melted in his breast. When Frodo leaned forward Sam was already lifting his lips, their kisses now were easy and plentiful, soft lips practiced and sure as they affirmed their surprising love with all their hearts.

There was no drive for passion though, just the joyful sweetness of touch, and then Frodo curled up on Sam's chest, head tucked under his chin.

"Sam," he whispered again. "Are you happy?"

Sam wrapped protective arms around him, his mouth curving into a smile as it always did when Frodo was so close. "Aye," he whispered back simply.

"These days have been like a dream," Frodo sighed. "The sun is inside me, Sam, warming from the inside out. I haven't felt so well in years."

Sam cupped Frodo's head in his hand, cradling him close, fingers carding through sun kissed curls. It was time to speak, but he hated breaking the mood. "There's more than the sun inside you, my dear," he said tenderly.

"Sam," Frodo reproached, stiffening a little in his arms.

"Now don't take on," Sam said as Frodo pulled back. Curls slipped through his fingers and he missed them instantly. "I've done as you asked, given you the time you needed, but time's getting on, Frodo." Deliberately Sam lifted his hand and cupped it over Frodo's belly. There was an unmistakable bulge there now, curiously firm under his fingers. "This is tellin' us so."

"It's too soon," Frodo said, head averted. But he didn't pull away from Sam's hand, instead he lifted his own and laid it over the top, as if exploring the swell for the first time himself.

"I swear it's bigger than last night already," Sam marvelled. "Do you feel anything inside there?"

"No," Frodo said lowly.

Sam rubbed Frodo's back comfortingly with his other hand. "It's all right," he allowed. "I guess we've got a little more time, if you need it. Not like this tiny bump can be seen through your weskit anyway."

"Oh, Sam," Frodo said miserably. "It hardly seems fair, does it? I'm enjoying all the benefits of this... bump, without giving anything back in return."

"You're giving him life," Sam pointed out reasonably.

"But that's just it," Frodo exclaimed, launching himself to his feet. "I can't even bring myself to think on it as life. It's like I'm fooling myself into believing I'm well but there's no price! And then I think it's cruel to think of it as a price. Even worse, this thing is making me well and I still think of it as a thing." He hunched his shoulders moodily. "Selfish."

"Don't worry about it, Frodo," Sam said, sitting up cross legged on the grass. He dusted his back and thighs with a few strokes. "You just worry about getting well and strong. I'll do all the rest of it."

Frodo dropped down on the grass in front of him, and Sam admired the graceful ease of his movement, even envied it a little.

"Rest of it?"

"Well, all the bits you can't bring yourself to do yet," Sam said reasonably. "Loving him, and thinkin' about him and such."

Frodo's eyes were wide. "You think about him, Sam?"

Sam smiled a little, noting the 'him'. "Course I do! All the time. I think about whether he can hear us, whether he can feel how good we feel when we're together. I wonder if I should read him poems and such, when he gets a little bigger in there. Maybe sing him some of our songs, he's a hobbit after all, he'll love good songs."

"You have thought about it," Frodo said in wonder.

"Hardly thought about aught else, love, but you and him." His eyes creased and he nodded and smiled. "Don't you worry about it, Mr. Frodo. I'm doin' all the lovin' for both of us for now."

"Sam," Frodo said fearfully. "Maybe you shouldn't let yourself get so... caught up in all this."

"Why?"

"Because in two months it will be October, and my illness will come upon me. What if... Well, what if this doesn't work out? It would be hard enough losing hope, without you breaking your heart too."

"But you're well now," Sam said fiercely. "You won't get sick again! Look at you, you're good as new!"

"I'm being healed, Sam, but remember what Nestadren said. There's a battle still to come, and it's one that we might lose."

"No," Sam said stoutly. "We haven't come so far to lose now. Almost from the moment I planted my seed in you, you've been getting better. You're strong now, and the babe is strong inside you. Nothing will hurt you, either of you. I won't let it."

Frodo looked away, his cheeks flushed. "I wish it was as easy for me as it is for you," he grumbled a little. "You've taken to this like a duck to water."

"Well, nothin's really changed much for me after all," Sam pointed out. "I'm just takin' care of two of you now, that's all." He chuckled. "Better get used to it, I guess."

Frodo shook his head and heaved a breath, as if there was something important on his mind, that he'd been meaning to say. But at that moment there were voices on the path nearby and they both sprang to their feet, surprised. Their garden was far from more frequently used paths, and of all the places of Rivendell it felt like their own.

Through the trees two tall elves appeared, stooping gracefully beneath the low boughs. They were dressed all in green and brown, and their soft leather boots seemed barely to touch the ground or disturb the leaves were they trod. They paused in surprise when they saw the hobbits, and instinctively Sam moved closer to Frodo.

"Friends!" the tallest elf exclaimed. He was fair haired and pale skinned, his eyes were blue. "Do not trouble yourselves. We are visitors new to Rivendell, and did not know others dwelt here. Are we trespassing upon your privacy?"

"Not at all," Frodo said warmly, greeting them with a smile. It lit up his face and he saw the elves exchange a quick look at the sight. Probably can't believe how fair he is, Sam thought proudly.

"I am Silasigil Eastfern," the tall one said. "This is my brother Glamren. We are from the Realm of Mirkwood."

"We could tell by your accent," Frodo smiled and nodded. "I'm Frodo Baggins, of the Shire, and this is Samwise Gamgee."

"Pleased to meet you," Sam nodded politely.

"We know who you are," Glamren said softly, and for a moment the sunlight in the day seemed to fade, chill a little. The elf inclined his head, smooth reddish hair moving gently at the graceful gesture.

Sam felt himself tensing a little at the traces in Glamren's voice. Was that menace he heard?

"Of course we have heard of you," Silasigil said warmly. He stepped forward and bowed smoothly.

His manner was so kind and courteous that Sam forced himself to relax. He was being foolish. What could possibly menace them here, in the home of Lord Elrond?

"Stories of the fame of the Ring Bearer have spread far and wide over Middle Earth," Silasigil continued. "I would be honoured if you would sit with us at dinner tonight," he invited charmingly. "There is much we would like to hear from you."

Sam saw Frodo flick an uneasy glance at Glamren, who stood silent behind his brother, his face expressionless. "We don't usually eat in the dining hall," he explained, and to Sam's surprise he reached out and took Sam's hand, holding it tightly.

Sam gripped the hand and stepped closer, not caring now how it looked to these two newcomers.

Silasigil tilted his head and laughed under his breath, and now Sam was sure of it, there was an undercurrent of menace here, running through every word and look. "How charming," he said softly, and then his brother leaned forward and murmured something into his ear and he chuckled again. "Yes, brother," he agreed, eyes hooding. "It seems you were right."

Frodo had stiffened next to him and Sam remembered he spoke some elvish. He wished he had his sword or even a dagger with him. There was a threat here, and Frodo sensed it too.

"We'll leave you to your solitude," Silasigil said easily, then his eyes ran over Frodo and lingered deliberately on the buttons of his waistcoat. Sam knew quite well no sign of pregnancy showed through the clothes, but all the same he had to fiercely fight the urge to step in front of Frodo and shield him from the elves keen gaze.

"They know!" Frodo exclaimed after they had disappeared through the trees. His face was white. "They know!"

"How could they know?" Sam argued, although he too was sure Frodo was right. "Elrond and Nestadren are the only two who know, and they won't have told anyone."

"I don't know," Frodo said, still holding tight to Sam's hand. "We have to find Nestadren, see if he knows who they are, and why they have come."

"Frodo?" Sam asked as they hurried down the path. "What did he say, that Glamren? What did he say to his brother?"

"I only heard a few words," Frodo muttered, dragging Sam by the hand.. "One I knew though. Thaur," he forced out. "It means abomination."

888

Nestadren greeted them with a smiling face, but he turned grave when he heard their news.

"This is very bad," he said hollowly, sitting down in his chair as if his legs would no longer hold him up. More alarmed now by their friend's worry, Frodo and Sam moved closer and laid reassuring hands on his shoulders. Nestadren attempted a smile.

"Please stay close to me until we have seen Lord Elrond," he requested.

"But who are they?" Sam said urgently.

"And how can they know about this?" Frodo's face was drawn and pale.

"They know because they know me," Nestadren said simply. "They know my background. When Sian carried me it was the brothers who spoke out most loudly against them."

"Abomination," Frodo said lowly and Sam clenched his fists hard.

"What business is it of theirs anyway!" he burst out.

"They see themselves as guardians of nature," Nestadren said gravely. "At least I believe they did in the beginning."

"What changed?"

"Once there were three brothers. They were the reason that my parents left the safety of Rivendell where I was conceived and ventured to a secret place of their own in the wild."

"Your parents were afraid of them?" Sam said fearfully. "But they were warriors!"

"Who must have felt very vulnerable at that time." Frodo laid a hand on his belly for a fleeting moment and then clenched his own fist. "What happened, Nestadren? Why do they hate us so?"

"When I was small my parents could protect me. We traveled mostly, and when we did stay in one place it was Mirkwood, my parents true home. With my parents I was safe, and for long years the threat seemed dim. But when I left my family to train in the healing arts, it loomed large again. The brothers attacked me, wounded me, and I was forced to flee for my life."

"How did you survive?"

"My parents," Nestadren said simply. "From the time I was born they were gifted with insight concerning me. Sian dreamed I was in danger and with Sial he found me. The third brother, Brandereb, was killed in the fight that followed. He was high born and his family powerful, but Sian and Sial were well respected, and although a war threatened eventually negotiations between our families bought about a truce."

"I don't understand?" Sam said, puzzled. "A truce?"

"The brothers, indeed the entire family were forced to swear an oath not to interfere with me during my lifetime."

"And that was enough to keep them away from you?" Sam said in disbelief. "Even though their brother died at your hands?"

"Such oaths are not taken lightly, Sam. Nor were the negotiations easy. Much had to be given up." Nestadren's face grew grey with an old grief for a moment. Then he shook his head." But the oath was a powerful one. Such that bind my kind to them with their very lives."

"They've taken no such oaths regarding us though," Frodo said numbly.

"And their hatred now is blind. The death of their brother is not forgiven or forgotten."

"But how do they know for sure?" Sam cried. "How could they just look at Frodo and know?"

"The light from the Galinsell is strong and pure, Sam. All elfkind seeing Frodo will know that he holds some secret. My guess is that the brothers heard that we were all here together and already suspected my spell. One look at you, Frodo, would have confirmed it."

"Then we are in danger." Sam reached out and took Frodo's free hand, gripping it tightly. "What do we do?"

"See Elrond," Nestadren said, rising to his feet. "He will let no harm come to you while dwell within the borders of Rivendell."

"And when we leave? The brothers waited a long time to kill you, Nestadren. They have long lifetimes to wait." Frodo's eyes were wide with dismay. "How can we fight them?"

Nestadren shook his head. "I do not know."

888

But when they reached Lord Elrond's hall he was standing talking to the two brothers. The hobbits slowed their steps when they saw them, and after hearing Nestadren's story Sam didn't even want to enter the large, airy room.

"I am glad you are here, my friends," Elrond greeted them warmly. "The Eastfern brothers have come to reassure me that their intentions here are peaceful ones."

"Right," Sam muttered under his breath.

"I fear we startled you, out in the garden," Silasigil said smoothly. "That was not our intent."

"What is your intent here?" Nestadren asked politely. Sam realised the two brothers had neither looked at nor addressed the healer.

Silasigil bared his teeth in what might have been a smile. His eyes focused somewhere over Nestadren's shoulder. "I believe it is the master of Rivendell only who has the right to ask that question," he said tightly. He bowed at Lord Elrond politely. "We heard stories of the Ringbearer's illness. And when we heard of the healer's presence here we feared the worse."

"This is none of your business!" Sam burst out, unable to stay silent any longer. He felt Frodo take his arm and squeeze warningly, but he could not regret speaking. Menace was in the very air, and despite the presence of Nestadren and Elrond his instincts told him that even at this very minute Frodo was in danger. Glamren was silent, but there was no doubt in Sam's mind that he was the most dangerous of the pair. His eyes studied Frodo in a way that made Sam want to run him through.

"On the contrary, young halfling," Silasigil said condescendingly. "Oaths taken long before your birth give us the right to probe into this matter."

"It is my understanding that those oaths concerned Nestadren only," Elrond pointed out mildly.

"It is this evil spell they concern!" Silasigil said shrilly. It was Glamren's turn to place his hand on his brother's arm and the fair elf bit his tongue. "Your apologies, Lord Elrond," he said more quietly. "This is a matter of some concern to us, as you are aware. A council must be called to discuss this matter."

"There's nothing to discuss!" Sam said loudly. "This is none of your business! We're hobbits, not elves. Your councils have no say over us."

"Master Gamgee is correct," Elrond agreed. "No elven council has the power to interfere now. What's done is done."

"But the oath-"

"I know that oath to its very letter," Elrond said, his voice turned to steel. "It binds Nestadren, and he has kept his side of it. But nowhere does it say he cannot cast that spell on those in need."

"The spirit of the oath was clear enough to those who took it," Silasigil said bitterly. "And those of us who have kept it over the years. And..." He straightened his shoulders and faced Elrond proudly. "What is done can be undone."

Sam gasped and felt Frodo stiffen beside him.

"Long have our clans been friends and allies," Elrond said, his eyes blazing fiercely. "Long have I stood by while this feud raged. But here in my home I will not tolerate it! No threats against the guests of Imladris will be sanctioned. Please leave, and do not return while these halflings are my guests."

Silasigil met the angry eyes for long moments and then bowed. "As always the sons of Eastfern bow to the wishes of the Lord of Rivendell," he said smoothly.

He straightened and turned for the door. "I would like to thank you," he said, looking at Frodo directly. "Your sacrifice saved the world. It is a shame that those who seem the most innocent should be called upon to make such a sacrifice."

With a mocking smile he bowed again and left, his silent brother at his heels.

Frodo swayed and Sam clutched at his arm. "This isn't over, Sam."

Nestadren shook his head sadly. "No. I fear it is not."

"I will contact the Lord of Mirkwood," Elrond informed them. "It may be that a council of sorts is inevitable."

"What?" Sam cried.

"Sam, we must find a way to keep these brothers in check," Elrond said gravely. "We must find a way to settle this, before it escalates into violence. I fear the long years have not reconciled the Eastferns to this spell."

"Nestadren?" Frodo asked lowly. "What was the price you paid?"

The healer shook his head. "It has long ceased to matter," he said, eyes averted.

888

"Seems to me all the wrong elves are sailing into the West," Sam said grumpily. "Shame those two didn't go."

They settled back into the garden, the mood of the day broken. Sam lay back on the grass and Frodo sat beside him.

"It's a mess," Frodo said fearfully. "I never thought we'd be threatened by elves! Never imagined what it must feel like to be an enemy of such an ancient and powerful people."

"There's only two of them," Sam said as comfortingly as he could manage. "And I'd bet on Lord Elrond against them two any time."

"Elrond can't protect us forever."

"We'll figure something out, Frodo." Sam reached up and cupped one velvet cheek. "We haven't been through all this to give up now."

"But the way they were looking at me! I realise now how lucky we have been here, Sam. I've felt some curious looks from the elves here, but nothing like the... hatred in Glamren's eyes."

"And Silasigil's voice," Sam recalled with a shiver. "Another problem with living so long. When these fellows hold a grudge they really hold it!"

Frodo's eyes were distant. "Do you think the elves here even know about the spell? What if when they find out they are all like the brothers?"

"Elrond would warn us if he thought we'd face that kind of thing," Sam assured him. "To tell you the truth, I think he feels right guilty."

"Guilty?"

"About the way he treated Sian and Sial himself all those years ago. Did you see the way he looked when he talked about the price Nestadren had paid in that oath? I think it must have been somethin' fearful."

"I think so too," Frodo agreed. He laid his hand on Sam's chest and stroked the fine white cotton gently.

"But this has got me thinkin' about the future and no mistake," Sam mused. "Folk aren't goin' to understand any of this, and I would be right surprised if they did! We have to figure out what we're going to say. I mean, wait till we ride into Hobbiton with a babe in arms!" Sam chuckled. "That'll take some explainin' and no mistake."

Frodo plucked at a trailing thread in the embroidery on Sam's shirt. "You know, Sam, I was thinking maybe we shouldn't even try to make those kinds of explanations. We can't tell the truth, all we can do is weave a web of lies."

"I don't like the idea any more than you do, Mr. Frodo. But what choice do we have? Folk are gonna notice a baby around the place, it'd be hard not to!"

Frodo kept his gaze locked on the thread, tugging at the soft blue stitches as if it absorbed him. A prickle of unease ran up Sam's spine.

"It'll be all right, Frodo," Sam said again, as reassuringly as he could. "We'll think of something."

"I've already thought of something, Sam," Frodo said quietly, head still down. "Something that's best for all of us. I was thinking maybe we might find some hobbits with no children of their own. Or perhaps a good kind family with room for one more."

Sam sat up abruptly, barely able to speak for the shock. "What?"

Blue eyes remained downcast. "Where he can grow up as a hobbit should, surrounded by other little ones, running in the sun."

"He'll do that with us," Sam said desperately, not believing what he was hearing. "Look at me, Frodo!"

Frodo set his jaw stubbornly but would not meet Sam's eyes. "With a mother and a father-"

"I'm his father!" Sam shouted.

"But I'm not his mother," Frodo shot back, now at last looking directly at him. "A child deserves that much at least! I owe him that much. A normal life."

"What's normal?" Sam gasped. "Given away like an unwanted gift? Thanks for the healin' now shove off?"

"Sam!" Frodo shook his head angrily. "You know I don't mean that!"

"What do you mean, then? Because I don't understand." Sam pointed a shaking finger at Frodo's belly. "That's a part of us growin' inside you, you and me. We made him with love, remember? How can you talk about givin' him away?"

"How can you lecture me about it like you know?" Frodo shouted. "I'm the one who has it inside me! I'm grateful to it for the life it's given me, but all I can give it in return is its own life! I can't love it, Sam, not like you do." He bit his lip, his anger fading from his face. "It's easier for you..." he trailed away miserably.

"What do you care how easy or hard it is for me?" Sam spat, bitterness twisting his lips. He couldn't ever remember feeling so angry at Frodo, couldn't ever remember feeling angry at him at all. What Frodo wanted, what he needed Sam was there to give him. "I gave you this," he hissed. "Because I love you so much. I'd love your child even if I hadn't fathered it. Even if it was all just some elven spell and I had no part of it."

Frodo bowed his head. "I know you would, Sam."

"So why can't you love it for bein' part of me then?" Sam beseeched, fists clenched.

"I don't know. I'm just trying to do what's for the best, for both of us."

"I don't want to hear this any more." Sam said shakily.

"Sam-"

"Anything you asked of me I would do," Sam said bitterly. "Anything! But you can't ask this of me, Frodo! Not this."

Frodo's eyes were dry and hard, they burned in his pale face. "I'm sorry, Sam, but I won't say what you want to hear just to make you feel better."

"Is this the choice I'm left with then?" Sam asked, eyes stinging, jaw aching with the strain of keeping his mouth from trembling. "Am I only allowed to love one of you?"

Frodo shook his head, his arms wrapped around his swelling middle. "I can't help what I feel. Or don't feel."

"Do you regret your wish now?" Sam asked, and he knew he was asking so much more. Do you regret us, he was asking. Do you regret inviting me into your body?

Frodo bowed his head miserably. But he didn't answer. Suddenly afraid of what he might say Sam turned on his heel and left.

888

Tears blinded him as he staggered down the path, not even sure where he was going.

"Something wrong, little halfling?" The voice was like the hiss of a snake and Sam reacted as if bitten, springing back on his feet and reaching automatically for the sword that no longer hung on his belt. Silasigil emerged from the dappled shade, soft footsteps inaudible even to sharp hobbit ears.

Sam sniffed, scrubbing at his face with his sleeve.

"Where's your thaur, perian?" Glamren said from behind him and Sam spun, now caught between the two of them, forced to back up until he was pressing against the age pocked old balustrade.

Sam remembered that word and it stung him like a whip. Abomination.

"Let me pass," he said bravely. Behind him the water of the falls echoed in the deep gorge.

"Gladly," Silasigil said with a false smile. "It's your big eyed whore we seek anyway. Didn't leave him alone, did you?"

To his horror Sam realised they were now between him and Frodo. The bitter anger of their fight died as fear for his lover and their child rose up inside him. He remembered the worry in Nestadren's voice when he spoke of the brothers, how Sian and Sial had taken themselves away from Rivendell and into the wild to protect themselves from these two elves. And they had been brave warriors. He should never have listened to Elrond! Should never have believed they were safe.

"He's not here," Sam lied. "He's still with the Lord Elrond."

"Is that why you weep, little halfling?" Silasigil said, pity on his face. His sweet words betrayed a venom that he no longer bothered to hide. "Does your whore prefer another now he has what he wants from you?"

"Shut your filthy mouth!" Sam shouted.

Glamren stepped closer and Sam pressed back automatically. Small rocks cascaded down the cliff behind him as he shifted his feet.

"We stood by once and let a foul poison taint the blood of the elves," Silasigil said conversationally. "And now it's spreading to the blood of your race."

"Why should you care?" Sam challenged angrily. "You despise my kind!"

"On the contrary," Silasigil said, radiating injured innocence. "We honoured your kind when we learned of the sacrifice a perian made to save the world." He shook his head sadly. "And we mourned too, when news of his fate reached us. To give one's life to save others is surely the most noble way to die."

"He's not going to die," Sam said, trying to keep his eyes on both the brothers at once.

"He must die," Silasigil said softly. "Him and the curse he carries. We will not stand by again while evil is unleashed into this world."

"You will not touch him," Sam gritted through his teeth.

With a soft slither Silasigil pulled a wickedly curved blade from a sheath at his back. "I will cut the poison from his body," he said simply.

With a primal growl Sam rushed forward, unsure what he would do even if he was swift enough to make contact, knowing only that he would not just stand there and let them force him over the gorge. The knife flashed and Glamren actually chuckled as he reached out to catch Sam's curls in a clenched fist.

"Hold!" The voice boomed throughout the gorge and for a moment even the wind in the trees stopped soughing. "Who dares draw blade against a friend of Imladris?"

"Elrond," Sam gasped as Glamren released his hair and flung him on the ground.

"Sam!" Frodo cried out, running to his side.

"Keep away from them, Frodo," Sam managed, terrified at the memory of that wicked blade. He hefted himself to his feet and pushed his way between Frodo and the brothers. But they now faced Lord Elrond, and had their backs to the hobbits.

"Speak!" Elrond commanded, and Sam found himself stepping back at the rage in his cultured voice. He had never seen the ancient elf so angry, his eyes bored into the elves who stood before him, his hands were clenched into fists of rage by his side.

"I have given my protection to these two hobbits," he said grimly. "These heroes who are owed respect and honour. How do you dare to disobey my request to leave and face them with a naked blade and a threat on your lips?"

"You know why," Silasigil said with deadly intensity. "This foul abomination must not be allowed to live!" He continued on in Sindarin, his voice rising.

He was barely given a chance to speak before Elrond cut in, also in their own tongue, his rage naked on his face. The sky around them seemed to shimmer with it, and Sam locked an arm around Frodo's waist and held him protectively to his side. Finally Elrond cut the air with a slice of his arm and for a moment all was silent, no wind, no birdsong, even the distant rush of water in the glade vanished.

The brothers backs were stiff, but after an age they bowed, and without even a look behind them they walked away.

"Frodo, Sam," Elrond said, his face ashamed. "How can I apologise for this?"

"There's no harm done," Sam managed. He cast a fearful glance at the departing elves. "Maybe Frodo and I should find somewhere else to stay."

"No, it is Silasigil and Glamren who are leaving," Elrond said fiercely. "It seems I must make sure this time, so please excuse me. I will speak with you more later. Again I offer the sincere apologies of my house." He bowed and hastened after the brothers.

"Sam, are you all right?" Frodo said anxiously, running his hand over Sam's scalp. "Did they hurt you?

"I'm fine," Sam said shakily. "Do you think they really will leave, Frodo? I'm not sure if we're safe here any more."

"They're leaving all right," Frodo said, his skin very pale. "I couldn't understand all of it, but I heard enough to know that Lord Elrond has banished them from Rivendell. Forever."

"I should think so too," Sam said, remembering with a shiver the naked blade flashing in the sun.

"Sam, it's a very serious punishment," Frodo said urgently. "Forever to the elves really means something."

"I wish folk would stop saying that," Sam said grumpily, pulling away from Frodo and smoothing his unruly curls back down. "Forever is forever. Living longer than everybody else don't change that."

"I'm not sure I agree there," Frodo returned. "All the same, I wish Elrond hadn't been so swift to banish them like that."

Sam gaped at him. "You're joking, aren't you? You did just notice that bastard about to cut my throat?"

"I didn't mean that," Frodo shook his head. "I meant it's just going to make them angrier and more determined, that's all."

"Or maybe you're stickin' up for them," Sam said angrily. "I forgot, maybe you're on their side now? After all, it would solve your all your problems, wouldn't it? If they cut it out of you!"

Frodo gasped and swung his hand before Sam even realised what he'd said. By the time he did Frodo was staring at him aghast, and Sam's skin was red both from the slap and the shame.

"I'm sorry," Frodo gasped.

Sam lifted his hand to his burning cheek. There was a copper tang of blood in his mouth. "No," he said quietly. "I deserved it. I don't know what I was sayin'."

"You're still angry with me," Frodo said miserably.

Sam dropped his hand, suddenly overcome with weariness. "Does it matter? I mean, does it really matter to you what I feel?"

"Of course it does, Sam," Frodo cried out, but Sam was turning on his heel.

"Come on, let's go see Nestadren, make sure those brothers really are leaving. I won't sleep safe in my bed until I know they're gone."

"No, don't go," Frodo implored, grabbing his arm to stay him. "Please, Sam, we have to talk about this."

Sam blew out a breath, ruffling the curls on his brow. "I'm tired, Mr. Frodo, real tired. Can we just do all this later?"

"Sam," Frodo begged, but Sam kept walking, only glancing over his shoulder now and then to make sure Frodo was following. Even mad at him he couldn't stop protecting him.

Nestadren was waiting for them at the door of his room, his face pale, his eyes worried. "Are you all right?" he exclaimed. "Elrond sent word to me what happened. It is beyond belief that their hatred should carry them so far."

"Are they gone?" Sam asked, while Frodo collapsed in a soft chair.

"Banished," Nestadren confirmed. "This time a spell will be cast to warn us should they try to broach Rivendell's borders again. Are you hurt, Sam? Your lip's bleeding."

"I'm fine," Sam said shortly. He backed out of the room. "I need to take a walk," he said hurriedly. He saw Frodo lift his head and open his mouth and rushed into speech. "Alone." He looked away from Frodo's hurt face to the healer. "Take care of him," he asked lowly, and then he turned and rushed from the room.

888

Night fell and the air grew dim, but Sam didn't move from his seat in the corner. No one came to this place it seemed, it was quiet and dusty. There were paintings on the walls, great scenes of battles that Sam knew nothing about, heroes whose names he didn't know in shining armour and helm. They were his only company as the shadows grew longer and then were swallowed up in darkness.

"Samwise, you fool." he whispered to himself. What did you expect? Mr. and Mrs. Gamgee returning to their cozy home with their bundle of joy? Frodo playing mother, himself proud father, teaching his nipper how to tell the flowers from the weeds, how to fish, what the difference was between mushrooms and toadstools?

He'd never felt any particular desire to be a father, and if Frodo had wanted children he'd forgotten to mention it. Neither of them had set out to make a family. This was a cure, a way to save Frodo's life, and the fact that the price being paid was the creation of a new life didn't change anything.

Everything you wanted you got, he told himself. You sought a cure and you found it. You made a wish and it came true. And along the way you lucked out, didn't you? You found a soul mate, a lover, the true other half of your heart. You thought you'd forged bonds before, but they were leaves in the wind compared to the bonds we have now.

All of this, you have.

And you want jam on it.

Sam rubbed his face tiredly. "Time to let it go, old son," he whispered. Time to let this last, hopeless dream go. Frodo can't help what he feels and it's not his fault you've been mooning around weaving these silly fantasies. It's time to stop trying to pressure him into feeling something that just isn't there.

Let it go. You have Frodo. Your job is to take care of him, remember? It's what you were born for.

Some dreams die, and some dreams fade away. But some you have to wrap up carefully and put somewhere safe. Sweet dreams. Hopeless dreams.

Sam spent the night running those dreams through his head, memorising them, cherishing them. Until at last, as another Rivendell dawn lightened the sky he tenderly kissed the last of them and laid them safely away.

888

Frodo stood up as Sam quietly opened the door. His face was red, his eyes were puffy. Even his curls stood on end and Sam smiled a little to see them.

"Didn't you get any sleep?" Sam asked, closing the door and walking over to him.

Frodo swayed a little, his eyes enormous, his hands clasped together.

"I can't sleep in that bed without you," he said thickly.

"Can't you, my dear?" Sam curved his hand around one pale cheek. "I'm sorry."

Frodo's face crumpled and he threw his arms around Sam and burrowed against him. "I'm the one who's sorry, Sam!' he cried into his neck.

"Now don't upset yourself, love," Sam said, his heart aching. He rubbed his hand down Frodo's back, feeling him shiver. "It's all right. I shouldn't have left you all alone."

"Sam," Frodo gulped and pulled back. "Sam, I shouldn't have said those things yesterday, I know how you've set your heart on this-"

"Now I said don't worry and I meant it," Sam said firmly, overriding him. "You were right to speak up when you did, Frodo. Best to get things clear once and for all. Before I got too carried away with all that nonsense."

"It wasn't nonsense, Sam." Frodo sniffed and rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. "Of course you were thinking all those things. If I hadn't spent these last months ignoring it-"

"Best thing to do," Sam interrupted him again, pressing a quick kiss to shaking lips. "Now come on, climb into bed and warm yourself up. You'll catch a chill from sitting there all night."

"Sam?" Frodo said in confusion as his waistcoat was unbuttoned and pulled off his shoulders. "Please don't ignore this. I want-"

"You want to talk, right?" Sam interrupted again. "And say what, love? What's changed since I went off in a huff yesterday? Your mind?"

Frodo opened his mouth and then closed it again, biting his lip.

"No," Sam said dryly. "I didn't think so." He sat Frodo on the edge of the bed and sat down next to him, chafing the chilled hobbit's cool fingers. "It's all right, Frodo," he said reassuringly when his dear love peered up at him in confusion. "I haven't lost my senses, in fact I've come to them, you might say. All you have to worry about is gettin' well and stayin' well, all right?"

"What about your worries, Sam?" Frodo asked in a small voice. "You said yesterday what you feel doesn't matter to me, but it does, Sam! It does!"

"I know it does," Sam said sincerely. "Truly I do." He looked down at their hands. "I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life lovin' you. And now I get to, because you're gettin' well, right before my eyes." He looked up at Frodo and smiled. "That's all that matters."

"But the baby, you-"

"No!" Sam said loudly. He huffed a rueful sigh and smiled again. "No," he said more softly. "You've been right all along, Frodo. I should have trusted your instincts. We don't talk about - about a baby. Just about you gettin' well and us goin' home." He squeezed Frodo's hands lovingly. "All right?"

"If - if that's what you want, Sam," Frodo said worriedly. "But are you sure it is what you want? I can see that you're hurting now."

"A little," Sam admitted. "But I'll get over it." He lifted their joined hands and kissed Frodo's fingers. "All the easier if we put it behind us and get on with things. It's all for the best. Right?"

"I really think so, Sam," Frodo said earnestly.

Sam kissed him again and then lifted the covers and pointed with his thumb. "Into bed with you. I'll go get us some breakfast and then I'll climb in with you, if you don't mind. I didn't get much sleep myself last night."

"Sam," Frodo said, once he was tucked up and sitting against the pillows. His eyes were enormous in his pale face. "Will you ever be able to forgive me?"

"There's nothin' you could do that would stop me lovin' you," Sam said honestly. "And there's no talk of forgiveness between us. I'm not just sayin' all this because I'm givin' in to you, you know. Or because I think it's what you want to hear. I just realised you were right."

"What changed your mind?" Frodo wondered.

"I just woke up, that's all."

888

That evening they were visited by Lord Elrond, who apologised once more for the actions of the visitors. He would say no more about them than that they were banished from Rivendell, by spell and upon their word of honour.

"What about when we leave here?" Sam wondered.

"I have sent messages to their family and lord in Mirkwood," Elrond said gravely. "As the brothers have sworn an oath not to interfere with Nestadren's life, so a similar oath must be taken to do no harm on the three of you when you leave the protection of Imladris. Don't worry, I will arrange it."

Sam nodded, carefully avoiding a glance at Frodo. From now on he would follow Frodo's lead, and not acknowledge that one day the two of them would be three. They wouldn't be three for long anyway, Sam thought, and then squashed the thought and the emotion that went with it.

888

The weeks that followed were both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because Frodo was so well, and if anything getting better. He had so much energy Sam could barely keep up with him, and they began work in earnest on their patch of garden, tending the trees, pruning the bushes, pulling weeds. Sam worried a little that Frodo might overdo, but he vowed not to speak of it, not even to Nestadren. Frodo knew what was best for his body.

Getting their hands dirty again proved to be just what they needed, making the days rush by, sweetening their sleep at night. Dinner found them hungry as hunters and at lunch they would find a patch of grass and open up their ample picnic basket joyfully. Frodo's appetite was growing and he would tuck in with relish, but Sam bit his tongue on any comments about eating for two. Instead he enjoyed how round and rosy Frodo's cheeks were getting, and how buttery his lips tasted after scoffing six scones in a row.

Frodo's appetite wasn't all that was growing though. And this was the cursed hard part for Sam, because as his belly swelled little by little, it became harder for Sam to ignore it. When they made love he would lay on one side of Frodo or another, careful not to crush him. When he slid his warm hardness against Frodo's body it was from behind, while his hand reached around and cupped Frodo's hardness, milking it gently and firmly, wringing dazed cries of pleasure from his lips. But he never wrapped his hands over Frodo's belly any more as they lay spooned together.

When Frodo got up too suddenly and swayed a little dizzily, Sam would catch his elbow and steady him, but he would not meet Frodo's eyes, he would not speak. When Frodo woke more often in the night to make water Sam would not show that he had awoken too. He would lay with his eyes shut, pretending to be asleep until Frodo returned to their bed. Only when Frodo's breathing relaxed back into sleep would Sam let himself sleep too.

And if he stirred in the night and found Frodo had curled up against him, the warm pumpkin swell pressing against his back, Sam would gently draw away and determinedly close his eyes, willing himself to sleep, ignoring how cold it felt alone.

Sometimes he thought Frodo was studying him and he would force himself to smile, to nod at another weed that needed pulling, another branch that needed lopping. When Frodo tried to speak of the future he made light talk instead about how the autumn was drawing in, and how the garden would look during a Rivendell winter.

So they did not speak of the future, nor did they talk any further of the now than the garden, their next meal, or their gentle loving. Weeks passed this way, as September arrived and drew to a close.

888

Frodo stirred in his sleep, his hand lifting and pressing briefly against the hard swell of his belly. Sam stroked his arm soothingly, watching as he settled back to sleep. He was on his back now, and the bump was outlined by the thin lawn nightshirt. Sam couldn't help gazing at it, feeling freer while Frodo's eyes were not on him. How much bigger it was now! Even as Sam watched something rippled under the skin, and before he had time to think about it he lifted his hand and laid it over the warm hard curve, something he hadn't done since their argument weeks before. It was warm and smooth under his fingers for long seconds and then there it was, a flutter, a stir so small that Sam thought he must have imagined it. And then it was there again, a tiny limb stretching in its cozy nest. Sudden wonder lit Sam's heart and he couldn't help the smile, the low chuckle, the huff of pleasure.

Then he looked up. Frodo's eyes were open, wide and luminous in the moonlit room. They were deep wells of pain. Sam slowly lifted his hand away, then he turned on his side, putting his back to the unwanted sympathy.

"Go to sleep," he said brusquely.

888

At breakfast they were quiet, but Sam happened to be watching Frodo as he lifted a buttery treat to his lips. So he saw a spasm cross Frodo's face, watched him grimace for a moment and lift a hand halfway to his belly. Then he dropped his hand and munched the treat down.

"Frodo? Are you in pain?"

Frodo licked his lips. "No, it-" he broke off and picked up another bun with a grin. "I'm fine. Must be eating too fast."

"And furiously," Sam teased him gently. "If the elves throw us out of Rivendell it'll be because you're eating them out of house and home."

Frodo made a face and poked his tongue out.

Sam relaxed, glad his weakness in the night hadn't made things awkward between them. October was nearly on them, and soon Frodo's anniversary illness would arrive. They needed to be united now, with no distance between them.

888

"Are you coming to bed?" Sam asked sleepily.

Frodo smiled over his shoulder. "In a minute. Go to sleep, Sam."

Sam lay back with the weary sigh, but he couldn't rest without Frodo beside him. He got up and tugged a quilt off the foot of the bed.

"At least wrap up if you're going to stare at the moon all night," Sam ordered huskily, draping the quilt around Frodo and tucking it under his chin. His love's profile was somber as he gazed into the night, a small furrowed frown on his brow. His hands caught the edges of the quilt and clutched it close, knuckles whitening.

"Frodo?" Sam asked softly. "Are you all right, love? Are you sure you're not in pain?"

Frodo shot him a glance and then looked away. A fleeting smile crossed his lips and then they twisted derisively. "I'm not in pain." He caught Sam's eye again and then lifted his shoulders. "It's um... moving," he said lowly. "Kicking, I guess."

Sam felt as if he was the one who had been kicked. He stared at Frodo in silence for a moment, then backed away and climbed into bed. Curling on his side he set his back to Frodo, eyes open and burning.

Behind him he heard a sigh and steps. The bed dipped and he felt Frodo settle against the head board.

"Sam?" he whispered.

Sam stared into the dark room, willing him to lay down and go to sleep.

"Please, Sam." Frodo's voice was soft and deep. "Come sit by me."

Sam turned and sat up, his face set. Frodo was sitting cross legged, the quilt discarded, clad only in his thin lawn night shirt.

"Give me your hands, Sam."

Sam shook his head. "Don't do this," he pleaded lowly.

Frodo reached out and took Sam's unresisting hands and carefully laid them on the small swell of his belly.

"Please don't do this," Sam begged, but he didn't fight or pull away, he let Frodo lay his right hand down low on the right side, and his left a little higher on the other.

"There," Frodo said quietly. "Feel that? It's a foot I think."

Sam jerked as the tiny movement rippled under his right hand.

Frodo laid his hand on Sam's left and curved it a little higher. "So I figure that's his head. He's stretching, I guess."

Tears blurred Sam's eyes as his rough hands shaped the tiny tender movements. He glanced up at Frodo who watched with sad eyes as he traced the tiny shapes. Another movement rippled and they both gasped a little.

"He's dancing a jig in there," Sam said thickly.

"Usually when I'm trying to sleep or eat," Frodo agreed.

Sam's tears spilled and his mouth trembled. He wanted to hold in his sobs, like he had been holding in his grief for the last few weeks, but it was too strong, everything in him too close to the surface. This life stirring under his hands was the last straw. All strength left him and he leaned forward, resting his forehead against Frodo's chest, sobs bursting from him. He wept loudly, huge tears rolling down his face, soaking Frodo's shirt, his body shaking, his trembling hands clutching. He barely felt Frodo's hands come up and stroke his hair, the nape of his neck. Lips were pressed to the crown of his head but they just made him cry all the harder.

It was like a storm in him, but like a storm it passed, and Sam found himself on his side in the bed, curved against Frodo, small breathy sobs still shaking his chest.

"I wish you hadn't done that," he hiccupped. "I was trying so hard, Frodo. Why did you do that?"

"I don't know," Frodo admitted. "I didn't mean to. I know how hard you've been trying, Sam, and it's been breaking my heart to see you."

"I've been doing my best to protect us both is all," Sam insisted. "Just like I've always done."

"You've been pretending you think this is right for my sake," Frodo corrected him. "Just as you've always done. I'm only sorry it took me so long to admit it."

Sam tilted his head back and gazed at Frodo in confusion. "Isn't this what you wanted?" he beseeched.

"What about what you want, Sam? While you're so busy protecting me, who's protecting you?"

Sam opened his mouth but Frodo laid a finger on it. "I am, that's who," Frodo finished. "Even if sometimes it's me you need protecting from."

Sam let this soak in for long moments. He lifted his hand and laid it back on Frodo's belly, but he couldn't feel any movement there now.

"We put him to sleep, I think, with all our dramatics," Frodo joked.

"I've never heard you talk about him this way," Sam said in wonder. "You barely ever even say 'him'. What's changed?"

"Nothing's changed, Sam," Frodo said sadly. "I still can't feel for him what you do. But you love him, don't you? You've loved him from the moment you knew he existed. It was wrong of me to think you shouldn't."

Sam gathered his courage. "Why don't you love him too, Frodo? Please, tell me so I can understand?"

"I barely understand myself," Frodo admitted. He tilted his head back and gazed at the ceiling. "But I guess I owe you this much at least." He was silent for long moments as if gathering his thoughts. When his voice came it was low and intense, it sent a shiver through Sam. It was almost familiar.

"It's like something is taking me over, Sam. Changing my body, making it seem like it's not my own. Putting thoughts in my head, feelings that don't belong to me. I feel it moving and it's something alien and strange." Frodo turned his head and looked intently at Sam, as if willing him to understand. "It's trying to make me love it, Sam. Trying to take me over. It feels like the Ring, Sam."

"He's nothing like that!" Sam exclaimed. "He's nothing to do with the Ring!"

"I know that," Frodo said simply. "He's giving me the life the Ring was taking away. He's given me back the sun. But I still wake in the night with these feelings, Sam, and I know they don't make sense and I know they're wrong, and that just makes it even worse. I've hurt you, the one person I should die rather than harm, and now I feel this life stirring in me I know I've harmed him too. Soon he'll do battle on my behalf, Sam. And I still can't love him." Frodo closed his eyes and slumped down.

"There," he said wearily. "There's the hero half of Middle Earth is singing ballads to. A snivelling coward who'd rather risk an innocent baby's life than face his own end. Really heroic."

"Oh, Frodo." Despite the depth of emotion charging the air around him Sam couldn't help a small smile at the sight of Frodo, his curls sticking straight up, his mouth drooping, slumped against the headboard with his small bump of a belly pressing against his shirt. "What have I been doing?"

Frodo opened one eye, looking miserable. "What?

"You know I think you were right, Frodo. Maybe I do need protecting from you." Sam's mind was racing. He felt as if he was waking from a nightmare and was now looking back at it in the morning light. Night's fears always seemed slightly ridiculous in the light of day.

Frodo opened both eyes and straightened. "Sam?"

"You're frightened and worried. You've mixed the past and the present up and you're sitting around brooding about it." Sam shook his head in disbelief. "And I've let you," he said incredulously. "The other half of that heroic team what saved the world. Some hero I've turned out to be as well." Sam reached over and smoothed down unruly curls, stroking his fingers tenderly over a smooth curve of cheek, cupping a stubborn pointed chin.

"You are pregnant, Frodo," he said deliberately. "It's time we stopped tryin' to run and hide from it. Your poor body is tryin' to cope with all of that, while at the same time it knows it's not meant to."

"I guess running and hiding isn't really an option any more, is it?" Frodo laid a hand on his belly with a grimace.

"Frodo?" Sam said gently. "Why didn't you tell me how frightened it was makin' you?"

Frodo shrugged awkwardly. "I just said. Because I know how ridiculous it sounds."

Sam shook his head, still not understanding.

"And I know it doesn't make any difference why. I can't love him, Sam. I can't give myself away like that again, not so completely. I'm afraid this time it will destroy me," he ended miserably.

"Oh, my poor dear," Sam sighed, gathering Frodo close. "Your head is still swirlin' around, isn't it?"

"What on earth are we to do, Sam?"

"How about we stop worryin' for a while? If you can't love the little mite, let me. In a way it's just my love for you spreadin' out to make room for him anyway. If you're feelin' bad, tell me! If he's dancin' a jig and keepin' you awake, tell me that too! Let's get through this together, and worry about the rest later, hmm?"

Frodo looked doubtful. "Isn't that just ignoring things again?"

"No, that's us coping with this one day at a time. But not bottlin' it up, or pretendin' it's not happenin'. Right?"

"I will try, Sam," Frodo said sincerely. "I will make it up to you as well. But please be patient with me? This is really hard."

Sam lay down on his pillow with a sigh. "It can't be any harder than the last few weeks have been," he pointed out with a yawn. "Come here." He tugged Frodo down onto the bed and spooned around him. Then he deliberately lifted his hand and covered Frodo's belly, smoothing over the bump firmly.

"Mm, that feels good," Frodo sighed.

"And aren't we the silly fools for ignoring what might feel good all this time?" Sam chided.

888

The next morning they worked in their garden again, raking leaves and lining beds. But at lunch time Sam called a halt.

"Mornings only from now on," he said firmly.

"But what will we do all afternoon?" Frodo protested, cleaning his spade with a rag.

"We'll find something."

Frodo shot him a look and Sam blushed. "Not that," he said sternly, then dropped a wink making Frodo chuckle. "We can read, or you can catch up with your writing."

Straightening Frodo pressed his hand to the base of his spine. "A nap might be nice."

Sam gently pulled Frodo's hand away and rubbed the spot firmly, smiling as Frodo stretched and purred.

"A wash and lunch," Sam pronounced. "And then I'll find some oil and give you a good massage. How does that sound?" Frodo's beaming smile was his answer.

888

"I think I ate too much," Frodo groaned, flopping back on the bed.

"I know I was impressed," Sam said mildly, sniffing curiously at the bottle of oil Nestadren had given him. "Even for a pregnant hobbit that was something."

Frodo rolled on his side and eyed Sam ruefully. "How many times do you think you can get the word 'pregnant' into the conversation today, Samwise Gamgee?"

"As many as it takes before you stop wishin' you'd kept your mouth closed last night," Sam shot back.

"I don't," Frodo denied, although he didn't sound very convincing.

Sam tossed a bath sheet on the bed. "Strip down, love, and I'll give you a rub down before your nap."

"Now you're treating me like Bill the Pony," Frodo grumbled, but he climbed to his feet and stripped to his drawers eagerly enough.

Sam eyed his suddenly modest love with a grin, loving the way the gentle swell looked nestling atop his draw string drawers.

Frodo suddenly looked down at himself in dismay. "I don't think I can lie on my stomach, Sam."

Sam chuckled, stripping down to his own drawers and sitting on the edge of the bed. He spread the huge bath sheet out and patted it invitingly.

"Lay on your side then."

Frodo lay back on the soft towel, stretching out and pointing his toes, purring at how good it felt.

"Or," Sam said huskily. "Maybe we could start off with you on your back." He poured a little oil in his hands and warmed it, smiling down at Frodo's pink cheeks. "How about this?" And he gently tipped the warm oil on Frodo's belly, watching with pleasure as it flowed over and down the swell. With a soft sweep he gathered the dribbling oil and carefully smoothed it into the hard bump.

"Oh," Frodo moaned involuntarily, his eyes squeezing shut in pleasure. "That feels good!"

"I thought it might," Sam said, pleased with the reaction. "When I rubbed your tummy last night you seemed to enjoy it."

"It feels very tight sometimes," Frodo admitted.

"Course it does. He's growin' by leaps and bounds. Now, don't turn your pretty mouth down, Frodo," Sam ordered. "We're done ignoring this, remember?"

"We were only pretending to ignore it anyway," Frodo admitted sleepily, yawning and rubbing his eyes. "I felt your eyes on me all the time, felt your concern."

"Did you?" Sam gentled his strokes on the flushed skin, now just smoothing the oil, enjoying the feel under his hands.

"Sam?" Frodo asked reluctantly. "How big do you think I'm going to get?"

"Well, let's see," Sam said, sitting back thoughtfully. He eyed the firm mound. "I'm no expert, and you're not yet five months gone... But I reckon I've seen some lasses near their time that would put you in the shade. You've a ways to go yet, love."

"I know," Frodo said worriedly. "Remember Grunilla Ford? You could see her coming around a corner five minutes before she arrived, Bilbo used to say."

"Aye, but she was carrying twins. And big lads they was too. Course, I was a big baby, so I'm told."

"You were?"

"Now, don't you fret," Sam said kindly. wiping his hands and laying the oil aside for the moment. "Nestadren said your body would know what to do, remember?"

"He said a lot of things," Frodo said nervously. "Most of which I've spent the last few months blocking out."

"That's part of the problem. We've both been bottlin' all this up. Worries should be aired and shared as my gaffer would say."

"You're still angry with me about that, aren't you."

"I'm not angry," Sam denied.

"Well you were," Frodo said, opening one eye and surveying him sternly. "You're just not very good at being angry with me. Not enough practice."

"Hm," Sam agreed dubiously. "Maybe I better start practicin'."

Frodo smiled seductively and held out his arms invitingly. Heart beating faster all of a sudden Sam lay down and cuddled close.

"Later," he murmured huskily.

888

"Sam," Frodo whispered sleepily in his ear. "I'm glad you still want me."

"Did that worry you too, my silly?" Sam said tenderly into Frodo's sweetly pointed ear. He kissed it gently and felt Frodo shiver against him.

"Sometimes," Frodo confided. "As I get bigger I feel so clumsy and fat."

"Only one part of you's bigger," Sam chuckled. "And it's not fat." He ran his hands over Frodo's belly which was still warm and soft from the oil. His voice caught. "Oh, Frodo, if you knew what I think and feel when I see this sweet curve..."

Frodo swallowed. "Tell me?"

"I think... I did that," Sam said possessively. He felt the warm blush sweep over Frodo's already flushed skin. Sam cupped Frodo's belly from underneath with both hands, grip firm yet as gentle as he could be. "This is my baby inside you, Frodo. I wish you could know how proud that makes me." He growled a little under his breath and spoke even lower. "And how hard."

"Oh, Sam," Frodo moaned faintly as proof of Sam's desire firmed against his belly.

"I want you, love," Sam groaned, his hand pressing his hardness against Frodo's taut skin. "I'll be gentle, I promise. Let me have you again? Please?"

Frodo heaved a great breath and pulled away for a moment, but Sam was not concerned. He felt Frodo's own arousal against him, he knew what Frodo was reaching for. A moment later the bottle of oil was pressed into his hand and Sam felt his heart over flow.

"I trust you, Sam," Frodo said passionately.

"I won't hurt you, love." Sam oiled his hardness and Frodo turned his back and pressed his round bottom back against Sam's slick hardness. "Nestadren said this is fine if I don't go too deep," Sam groaned. He stroked Frodo's tiny opening with his oily finger.

"You asked Nestadren about this?" Frodo said in surprise, squirming back against the gentle probe.

"Actually, he told me, some time ago," Sam revealed breathlessly. "He said it wasn't dangerous, in fact..." Sam eased a second finger in and paused while Frodo gasped and stilled while his body adjusted.

"In fact?" Frodo panted.

"What?" Sam carefully pulled his fingers free and grasped his hardness, pressing against the slick opening and groaning at how good even that pressure against the sensitive head felt.

"He said it wasn't dangerous, in fact..." Frodo managed.

"Oh," Sam groaned, pushing in a scant inch and stopping. Frodo's body tensed and then relaxed. "He, um, said that it might even be good for you," Sam finally managed to say.

"Oh, he's right," Frodo moaned, pushing back a little to signal to Sam that it was all right to proceed. "He's right!"

And then Sam was pushing another inch and pausing, and then another. It was agonising, it was sweet, it was unbelievably arousing. His hands gripped Frodo's hips, his hips trembled, his mouth suckled Frodo's neck and then laved it with his tongue, tasting salt sweat and Frodo. Finally he was in as far as he felt he should go and they lay for long moments, bodies shaking, Sam's hands still gripping tightly, Frodo's hand holding the swell of his belly.

"All right?" Sam whispered hoarsely.

Frodo nodded and sobbed a moan as Sam gently withdrew, just a little and pushed back in. Frodo mewled and groaned and Sam swallowed hard at the effort it took not to slam in all the way, not to lift Frodo onto his knees and push his face into the soft mattress and ram him until they both groaned and screamed.

One day, he swore to himself. I will take him that way, and I will kneel for him too.

For now he contented himself with a gentle push pull, his hand now reaching for Frodo's hardness, loving the feel of Frodo tensing around him as he grasped it and carefully began the practiced strokes that would bring him to completion.

This was their second time this night and they both wanted it to last, and for long dreamy minutes Sam took them both to the edge and then slowed back to a soft rhythm. Frodo began to sob and push back against him, and thrilled with the power his new skills had over his love Sam sped up the pace, always careful not to push too far, now sweeping his hand more firmly on Frodo, loving the grunts and mewls and sighs.

Finally Frodo arched back against him and came, and the sweet tightening of his body bought Sam off at almost the same instant. He poured himself into Frodo's body, tears pricking his eyes as he remembered the last time, when proof of their loving mingled to form a new life.

"I love you," he wept against Frodo's neck.

"My Sam," Frodo sobbed back. "I do love you."

888

October 1420 S.R.

October had barely begun before Frodo began to draw back into himself. He covered himself with more blankets at night and a second coat in the day, but now even the sun couldn't warm him, even in their little garden. Before lunch on the sixth day of the month he stopped even pretending to read, and instead huddled into Sam's arms, pressing his head into the warmth of Sam's neck.

Gasping at how cold his skin felt Sam held him close, dread in his heart. He had so hoped that this battle would be an easy one, but it seemed if anything worse than any illness before. Frodo muttered something into his neck and Sam squeezed his eyes shut in dismay.

"It's getting dark, Sam," he whispered dully. "It is all so empty."

"I have you, my dear," Sam said as warmly as he could manage. "Let's go back to bed, hmm? We'll cover you with blankets and warm you up, and we'll have a nice rest."

"Where shall I find rest?" Frodo murmured against his shoulder as Sam lifted him into his arms and carried him down their now worn track.

Grimly Sam carried him back to their room and sent for Nestadren. The healer had seen Frodo many times in the last few days, and this time as the last time he could only shake his head sadly.

"This is not our battle, Sam," was all he could say. "The light battles the darkness now. We must hope to Frodo's strength, and the strength of that light." He laid a consoling hand on Sam's shoulder. "Do you want me to stay with you?"

Sam shook his head, his eyes full of tears. "No, thank you. I just want to hold him now. I want him to feel my strength, and know it's there if he needs it."

The day drew on, but no matter how close Sam pressed or how many blankets Frodo could bear over him, the coldness would not go away. As the evening faded to deep night it seemed to spread, and by midnight Frodo could only lay on his good side and shiver.

Sam's worry became desperate. "I should go get Nestadren again."

"He can't help me." Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes. "The darkness is winning, Sam. This time it will take us both."

"No!" Sam said fiercely, gathering Frodo in his arms and holding him closely. His whole side was frighteningly chill, an unnatural cold that even seeped into Sam and made him shiver.

"Sam," Frodo moaned, opening tear swollen eyes. "I want to go back to our garden. Take me to our garden, please."

Sam looked out into the darkness. "But the sun's gone in, love. It's cold."

"I can't get any colder. I need the earth, Sam. I need to lay on the earth and feel its life. Please, I need to get out of this room!"

Unable to deny him anything, but against his better judgment, Sam gathered Frodo in his arms again, blanket and all. He was no lightweight, but Sam was strong and broad shouldered, in the best of health. He would carry Frodo anywhere he needed to go.

Outside the night was October crisp, silver moonlight lit their path, but with his hobbit eyes and senses Sam could have found the way blind folded. Sure footed he made his way to their patch of earth and lay Frodo down on the gentle slope where they had spent so many happy hours, laughing and loving. Tears were in his own eyes now as he sat down and cuddled Frodo back against him, cradled between spread legs.

"It's not fair," Sam wept. "You've been so well, love. It's not fair that you should suffer so."

"It's my fault, Sam," Frodo said brokenly. "He knows I never wanted him, wouldn't love him. Now I'm going to lose him, and I never said, I never let myself..." He sobbed, hands wrapped around Sam's arms, head bowed in sorrow.

All Sam could do was rock him and weep with him.

"Why couldn't I see the difference? Before, during that terrible time, I was so lost, so lost, Sam. I couldn't tell where I ended and it began, I couldn't tell what thoughts or words were mine. But why couldn't I see that this was different? How could I confuse that darkness with this light? I'm a fool and our baby is suffering because of it." He broke into sobs again. "Our baby, Sam. Our baby."

"Please, Frodo," Sam begged. "Please stop weeping so, you're hurting yourself more. I know you love him, so he must know. Even if you couldn't admit it to yourself or me, I knew."

Frodo's breath sobbed. "Y-you knew, Sam? How? I didn't realise myself, until the darkness came upon me. Wouldn't let myself."

"Just lately, my dear," Sam said, all his love in his voice. "You should see yourself when you lay your hands on him at night. Your half smile when he stirs inside you. Day by day I've watched you fall under his spell, but I couldn't say anything. You were so scared of that very thing."

"I just knew I was losing myself again and I couldn't see the difference. I'm so cold, Sam." Frodo lay his head back on Sam's shoulder, his breath still hitching. His hands lay on his belly. "He's stopped moving, Sam. The cold is winning. We're losing him."

Sam's heart was breaking. He'd only felt this hopeless once before in his whole life, when he cradled Frodo's seemingly lifeless body in his arms and faced a world without him in it. Even at the end of all things he hadn't felt as if his very heart was breaking, because at least there he had been in Frodo's arms. Now he was holding his love close but the cold was taking him further away. He was losing them both.

Suddenly Frodo lifted his head and turned in the darkness. "Something's happening," he breathed.

Sam opened his eyes and peered through the trees. In the distance lights were moving erratically, and he thought he could hear shouts on the wind. Such a disturbance in this peaceful place was immensely shocking, and even through his grief and worry Sam could feel his instincts screaming at him.

"Something's wrong," he whispered. The same thought must have struck them at the same moment. They turned and met each other's gaze.

"The brothers," Frodo managed. He tried to rise but he was too weak and he collapsed back against Sam.

"Elrond said he would know if they trespassed into Rivendell again," Sam muttered helping Frodo up and wrapping one arm around him.

"They know I'm ill and weak." Frodo clutched Sam's waist. "They're looking for us!"

Again hobbit instinct kicked in, and moving as silently as only their kind could they merged with the shadows of the trees.

"The old Mallorn tree," Sam whispered against Frodo's ear and the shivering hobbit nodded. The old tree had huge roots and gaps in its ancient trunk, and they made their way as quickly as they could, Frodo struggling to move quietly, Sam's eyes darting around the dim forest. They reached the tree and gratefully scrambled into a huge fold, crouching back against the dank earth, feeling it close around them.

Sam pressed back against a root, wishing he had a weapon, any weapon. His hand found a decent sized stone in the dark and he handed it to Frodo, quietly scrabbling for another. Thus armed they waited in the dark, trying to breath as silently as they could.

"Are you hiding, little ones?" a whisper shivered through the trees, sending a chill down Sam's spine. "Hiding your shame? It's too late for that."

They voice seemed to come from all around them.

"That abomination you carry cannot be allowed to see the light of day. Come out, Frodo Baggins. I will cut it from your body."

Sam's fists clenched and in the shafts of silver moonlight he could see the rage and fear on Frodo's stark face. Sam had killed orc and goblin in his day, but he had never dreamed he could so long to wrap his hands around someone's neck and squeeze the life out of him.

In the distance there were more shouts and suddenly one of the brothers called softly to the other in their own language.

"They're coming this way!" Frodo whispered into Sam's ear, clutching him hard. "He just told Silasigil he has our trail!"

"I have to lead them away," Sam whispered back. Frodo stiffened against him and twisted in his arms, shaking his head. Sam stilled him and laid a hand on Frodo's swollen belly between them. He met his love's eyes in the moonlight, blue washed to silver, and smiled.

Frodo's mouth quivered, but he bit his lip and nodded, once.

"I love you," Sam mouthed silently, then still clutching his rock he climbed as quietly as he could out of the hole and into the night. He ran soft footed on the grass until he reached a path, then deliberately brushed a bush, hearing the crackle of wood like a firework in the night. Behind him was shadow and Sam saw that he had one chance. Turning he flung the rock with all his might at his pursuer, but the elf easily dodged and was upon him, one hand in his hair pulling his head back, wicked knife blade at his throat.

"It's the other one," Silasigil said carelessly over his shoulder. "Follow his tracks back."

Glamren whispered something and Silasigil laughed. "Good idea," he breathed. He hauled Sam up by his hair and laid the knife back to his throat.

"Frodo Baggins?" he whispered into the night. "I know you're near. I know you can hear me. Those who follow us will not reach you in time, but it doesn't have to end for both of you. Come to us now, and I will let this one go. He has no part in this."

"I have every part in this!" Sam struggled and clawed at his captor, uncaring about the blade drawing blood at his throat. "That's my son you're trying to murder, you filth!"

"You understand me, halfling?" Silasigil hissed. "I will cut his throat and then I will spend forever tracking you down. Do you understand what forever is, to my kind?"

"No, Frodo!" Sam screamed.

"Let him go," Frodo said from behind them, and both elves spun quickly to face him.

"Run," Sam sobbed, struggling fruitlessly against the hand that held him, feeling his scalp pull agonisingly.

Glamren took a step forward and drew a long blade from the sheath at his side.

"Please," Sam choked, hands clawing at his captor. Like a dream in slow motion the tall elf drew closer to the small figure outlined by the trees. His blade caught the moonlight as he held it out, the light catching as he twisted it and drew it back. At his throat Sam felt the pressure of the knife increase, gasped in pain as the blade began to cut, knew in that final instant that the elves meant to kill them both, that the whole of the dream would end in the moonlight of a Rivendell October.

And then as Glamren pulled his knife back to strike the blade at Sam's throat drew back and fell away and Sam blinked in shock as the path seemed suddenly lit with a golden glow. Behind the still form of Frodo the black outline of the trees seemed to stretch into the distance and the light flashed suddenly into a glare so bright Sam had to cover his eyes. The last thing he saw was Glamren cowering back, covering his own face, the last thing he felt was the pressure on his hair vanishing as he dropped like a stone.

On his knees, spots dancing behind his eyes Sam heard a shout and found his own voice. "Help!" he screamed. "Over here!"

Silasigil cursed next to him and, still blinded, Sam groped along the ground, trying to scramble away. Under his fingers he found the hilt of the knife and as a hand clawed at his leg Sam turned and plunged it home, instinct guiding his hand.

"Frodo!" he screamed as he felt it connect, heard the sickening sound of knife piercing flesh, grinding against bone.

"They're here!" A voice called, as clutching at his bleeding neck Sam tried to stand, collapsing back onto his knees.

"Frodo?"

"Samwise!" Strong hands lifted him, pressed against the wound in his neck. Squinting in the moonlight Sam saw that Elrond stood before him, his own blade naked. "Nestad, Sam has been cut!" The night was normal now, no golden glow, no piercing silence. Just the path, and elves all around him.

"Sam!" Frodo called out and Sam felt his breath leave him at the sound of his love, safe and alive.

"Frodo," he sighed. Then he knew no more.

888

"Frodo!" Sam jerked awake, then clutched at his burning neck.

"I'm here, Sam."

Sam blinked, his eyes still a little dazed, his panic subsiding at the sound of that dear voice. "Are you all right?" Sam managed.

"I'm fine, love," Frodo said tearfully. He pressed Sam back into the mattress with one hand and laid the other one over Sam's hand at his throat. "You're the one who's hurt."

"Bastard was going to cut my throat," Sam said gruffly, his eyes devouring Frodo, running anxiously over all he could see of him sitting by his bedside. "Again. Did he hurt you?"

"He never even reached me." Frodo stroked his hand. "The others arrived just in time."

Sam focused on two forms at the end of the bed, Elrond and Nestadren, standing patiently.

"Are they dead?" Sam asked starkly.

Elrond inclined his head. "Yes. Silasigil died by his own knife, Sam. You found his heart with it. And Nestadren fired one arrow into Glamren as he tried to stab Frodo."

"I aimed for his heart," Nestadren admitted. "He was too close, and there was a feral rage in his eyes. I could not risk harm to the innocent."

"And the light?" Sam frowned. "Where did the light come from?"

Nestadren and Elrond exchanged glances.

"We saw no light," the healer said uncertainly. "Did the brothers have a light, Sam?"

Sam slanted an confused glance at Frodo, then he realised something all in a rush. "Frodo! Your hand! It's warm."

Frodo squeezed his fingers, smiling through his tears. "So is the rest of me," he revealed huskily.

"The darkness?" Sam breathed, hardly daring to hope.

Frodo took Sam's hand and laid it on the swell of his belly. Beneath Sam's trembling fingers there was only still smoothness, for long moments. And then...

"He's moving!" Sam said joyfully, and uncaring of the pain in his neck he sat bolt upright and hugged Frodo to him.

"The light has banished the darkness," Nestadren pronounced, joy on his own face. "The battle is won, Sam. Frodo is healed."

"And your child is well," Elrond said with a grave smile.

888

After they were gone Frodo lay down next to Sam, all four of their hands on his tummy, feeling with delight each rippling movement.

"You saw it, didn't you, Frodo?"

"And felt it," Frodo whispered. "Brilliant, like the sun. And I think I saw him, Sam, just for an instant. Not his face or anything, just him, curled within me, sleeping. I think he was smiling, Sam."

They held each other close for what remained of the night.

October the seventh dawned.

 

 

Chapter 2: Many Aspects

 

October 1420 S.R.

Sam watched Frodo carefully the next morning, but all trace of his illness seemed to be gone.

"How's your neck?" Frodo asked, reaching eagerly for a pumpkin scone.

Sam fingered the bandage gingerly. "A little sore," he admitted. "I suppose it'll leave a scar."

"A hard one to explain too," Frodo agreed sympathetically.

"Yes, it is a scar, Mrs. Burrows," Sam said in a mock polite voice. "How did I get it? Well, a murderous elf tried to cut my throat because I got Mr. Frodo pregnant. Yes, the garden is looking nice this year. Good day."

Frodo snorted through a mouthful of scone and Sam brushed at the crumbs on his waistcoat.

"Sorry," Frodo said, brushing at the crumbs with sticky fingers. "Anyway, let's face it, Sam. Coming home with a scar is the least thing we'll have to explain."

"Actually," Sam said steadily. "While we're talkin' about explanations... What did you think you were doin' last night? You left safe hidin' to face that murderer!"

"They were going to kill you," Frodo pointed out mildly.

"They were goin' to kill me anyway. Your job was to protect yourself and the babe."

"As if you would have stayed still while I was in danger!" Frodo applied himself to another scone. "Anyway, I had a plan."

Sam surveyed him skeptically. Frodo's mouth was shiny with butter and he had jam on his chin. Resisting the urge to lick it off, Sam frowned sternly. "A plan?"

"I was trying to keep them busy until the others could find us."

"Ah, clever plan," Sam nodded thoughtfully. "Let them brutally stab you to death until help arrives. Our only hope now is that the baby inherits my common sense."

"Fft!" Frodo scoffed through a mouthful of scone.

Sam patiently wiped more crumbs from his waistcoat.

"Sorry," Frodo said again. He paused with his hand over the last scone and looked hopefully at Sam. "You didn't want this, did you?"

888

On the way out of their door Frodo stopped short at the sight of a woven basket. It was full of huge red-green apples and his eyes lit up as he picked one up eagerly. Sam hefted the basket and studied it.

"I wonder who's left this here? Maybe it's not for us."

"Um," Frodo said, eyes wide over a giant mouthful.

"Why would anyone leave us a gift?"

"We'll ask Nestadren when we see him," Frodo mumbled, chewing blissfully.

They walked hand in hand out into the morning sunlight, turning their faces away from the Mallorn tree by unspoken agreement.

"Are you really okay, Sam?" Frodo asked, squeezing his hand gently.

Sam put his hand to his throat but Frodo shook his head. "I don't mean that."

"Oh." Sam kept walking, enjoying the morning sun. "It's not the first time I've killed, Frodo."

"Orcs are a bit different from elves, Sam."

"Not when they're trying to kill you," Sam retorted. "Or me either for that matter." He stopped and turned to face Frodo, taking his other hand now too. "I'm all right," he reassured his love gently. "I don't know what I could have done different last night, but I'm not goin' to drive myself crazy worryin' about it. You're fine, and that's all I can find room in my heart for today."

"We're fine," Frodo said huskily, lifting their linked hands and laying them on his swollen belly.

"Are you really?" Sam asked, and he wasn't talking about the illness now. "You've spent a long time convincin' yourself and me that you don't want this. Is it really all right with you now?"

"It's completely all right now," Frodo said, eyes shining, lips curving into the sweetest smile Sam had ever seen. "Sam, when I saw him last night... I wish I could describe it to you. I've been so caught up in how he's been changing me, how he's made me feel, I never even let myself think about him. Not the way you did, right from the beginning. But seeing him, Sam."

"Tell me?" Sam pleaded, feeling a little jealous.

"Seeing him was like... Well, remember what you said to me, not so long ago? About how proud and possessive it made you feel? Touching me like this?" Frodo stroked their hands, still curved warmly on his belly.

"Just seeing you like this," Sam confessed huskily.

"Yes," Frodo said, the smile on his lips reminding Sam of what else he had said and done that night. He felt his ears start to turn red and Frodo chuckled softly.

"Well it's like that for me too, Sam. Seeing him, so tiny and new, curled up asleep inside me. Feeling him, kicking and squirming as he stretches and yawns. My child. Our child, Sam. We're so lucky."

"I know," Sam smiled back at him.

"You've always known," Frodo reproached him gently. "I used to wipe your nose for you, Samwise Gamgee, when you were a nipper. When did you get so much smarter than me?"

Sam just smiled as wisely as he could manage and leaned in for a kiss.

888

Their footsteps led them to Lord Elrond's pavilion and they paused politely at the steps, looking for the tall figure of the Master of Rivendell. Instead they were greeted by the sight of a much more normal sized figure, sitting on a soft cushioned bench with a warm woollen blanket around his shoulders.

Frodo's eyes lit up. "Bilbo!" He rushed forward and hugged the old hobbit fiercely. "When did you get here?"

"This morning, Frodo. Lord Elrond told us you didn't know we were coming. He said you'd been ill, but I must say, my boy, you look fine." One gnarled hand stroked a flushed cheek. "Wonderful in fact!"

"You do too, Uncle," Frodo said fondly. "I've missed you!"

"Hello, young Samwise," Bilbo said affably. "Letting this scamp drag you away from home again so soon?"

"Where on earth have you been, Bilbo?" Frodo said, perching on the bench next to his uncle with his arm still around frail old shoulders. "Here I left you enjoying a peaceful retirement and when I come looking for you, I find you've taken off with Gandalf again."

"Kill any more dragons?" Sam asked innocently.

"I might have, I might have," Bilbo said comfortably. "Gandalf had some business to take care of and he invited me to come along for the ride, so to speak. We didn't mean to be away nearly so long, but we rather lingered on the road I'm afraid. Dawdled dreadfully."

Then he seemed to really focus on Sam for the first time, and his bleary eyes widened. "Whatever have you done to your neck, youngster?"

Sam raised a hand to the bandage and glanced at Frodo. "Uh, an accident," he ventured. "In the garden."

"Some accident," Bilbo chuckled. "You look like someone's cut your throat! It's not like you to be clumsy. If I remember right, the garden is where you're at your best."

"I wouldn't say that," Frodo said innocently. "Sam has a lot of hidden talents, Uncle," he went on cheekily.

Sam felt his blush starting again and rose to his feet. "I'll leave you two alone to chat," he said hastily.

"No, don't go," Bilbo insisted.

Sam cast Frodo a warning glance before sitting back down.

"I want to hear all about this mysterious visit of yours, lads. Gandalf and I were well away from Rivendell when my old friend suddenly started smiling and chuckling like you wouldn't believe. Thought the old fellow had finally smoked one pipe too many, if you like. But then he said you were here in Rivendell and you were being cured. Is it true, Frodo?"

Frodo smiled happily and nodded. "It's true, Uncle."

"Well, you do look good," Bilbo said again, as if still surprised. "Finally putting on some weight too, I see."

Frodo darted a nervous look at Sam, then smiled and shrugged. .

"Proper double chin you're getting," Bilbo continued genially and Frodo's face lost its smile instantly.

His hand flew to his face. "Double chin?"

"Why, you quite remind me of your grandfather Fosco. Roundest hobbit I ever knew."

Frodo was looking pale now and Sam forgave him his earlier teasing and tried to change the subject.

"So, Mr. Bilbo. Where is Gandalf?"

"He and Elrond disappeared a while back. Something's going on I think, they wouldn't say what. Don't want to worry an old hobbit like me, I expect. What do you think, Frodo? One hundred and thirty! I've nearly passed the Old Took!"

"I did think of you on your birthday, Bilbo. Sam and I had a toast to you."

"Gandalf and I had a few toasts too that night," Bilbo said reminiscently. "But he also sorted out a few loose ends, interfering old fellow that he is. Still, we wouldn't change him, I suppose."

"Is this it then, Uncle? Or are you planning any more adventures?"

"Funny you should say that, my lad. Gandalf gave me quite a surprise on my birthday. It seems the elves have accorded me a special honour. I'm to sail away into the West with him and Elrond and the Lady Galadriel. What do you think of that then?"

"Bilbo!" Frodo exclaimed.

The old hobbit nodded and smiled, pleased with the reaction to his announcement. "Thought you'd be surprised. I was. And I thought long and hard about it too, I can tell you. But then I thought, well, why not? Sounds like another adventure to me."

"Gandalf is leaving?" Sam said in surprise. "And Lord Elrond?"

"And Lady Galadriel," Bilbo nodded. "I'm looking forward to seeing her, they say she's quite something."

"She's that," Sam agreed heartily.

"Of course, I'd quite forgotten that you've met her, my two travellers!." Bilbo shook his head at his own absent mindedness.

"But when is all this happening, Bilbo?" Frodo asked, his face pale.

"Oh, not for a little while yet, Frodo, so don't worry. Lots of things to do before we go. And Elrond said there was something here he must see finished."

"I'm glad you're not going yet, Bilbo" Frodo hugged frail old shoulders. "We will miss you."

"Well, lad," Bilbo said huskily, patting Frodo's hand clumsily. "I'll miss you too. But to tell you the truth, when Gandalf asked me, I wondered if you might be coming along too."

Sam felt a frisson of shock go through him. "What?"

"I heard some talk of it from Elrond before Gandalf and I went away. That he'd invited you to go with him when he sailed. But now I see that cure of yours has done the trick, I don't think it's quite your time yet, somehow."

"No," Frodo agreed softly. He looked searchingly at Sam, stroking his tummy absently. "I still have a lot to do."

Sam felt Bilbo's words sinking into his brain. They'd invited Frodo to sail with them? All along Frodo had intended to sail away with the elves when their time came?

"I'll go get us some nice hot tea, shall I?" Sam volunteered, and this time he didn't wait for an answer. Once away from their sight he leaned against a tree and turned the thoughts over in his head. He remembered Nestadren saying that time wasn't their friend. How right he had been!

If they hadn't traveled to Rivendell when they did... If Nestadren hadn't been here... Frodo would have been leaving Middle Earth. Forever.

"Sam?"

Sam sniffed and rubbed at his eyes like a child. "I'm just getting the tea," he said thickly.

"Bilbo said not to worry about tea," Frodo said softly behind him. "He wants a nap." Strong young hands gripped his shoulders. "Come here."

Sam leaned back against Frodo's warmth, tilting his head back so he was looking at the blue sky through swimming eyes.

"It's all right, Sam," Frodo said gently. "That way is closed to me now, thanks to you and our lad here. You don't have to worry about me sailing away from you ever again."

"If we hadn't come here," Sam couldn't help saying, still haunted by might-have-beens. "If Farmer Cotton hadn't told me you'd been ill..."

"Strange isn't it? Thinking of the paths not taken. How close things came to being different."

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" Sam demanded hotly, turning to face him. "Would you ever have told me? Or would you have just sailed away?"

"There wasn't anything to tell, Sam, honestly. There never was a clear invitation, no matter what Bilbo thinks he heard. Elrond just let me know that I had the choice, that's all. He has the gift of foresight. He must have seen the poison at work in me even then."

Sam rubbed at his eyes. "Really? You didn't have it all planned?"

"Dear Sam," Frodo said tenderly, cupping his cheek and wiping a stray tear away with his thumb. "I'm not even sure I had any plans back then. I suppose it was in my mind that if things got too bad... That I had a way out."

"Well, I wouldn't have let you go," Sam said fiercely. "I would have wrapped my arms around you so tight nothing could have taken you away from me!"

Frodo laid his cheek against Sam's, cupping the nape of his neck. "The past is gone, Sam, and we have a different future now. Can't you tell? He's kicking you hard enough!"

Sam chuckled damply. "Probably protestin' about all those pumpkin scones he has to share space with in there."

"Why did you let me eat so many, Sam?" Frodo said severely. "A double chin indeed!"

"I knew it would turn out to be my fault." Sam kissed Frodo's chin, still tasting jam there. "As if I would get between a pregnant hobbit and his food. I like all my arms and legs where they are, thanks very much." Then he wrapped his arms around Frodo, reassuring himself that he was here and well and that he wasn't going anywhere.

888

"Sam?"

"Hmm?"

"What are we going to tell Bilbo?"

Sam tried to draw his mind away from Frodo's inviting pumpkin scent and warm embrace.

"We tell him that you're pregnant, Frodo. Otherwise you givin' birth is goin' to come as something of a shock to him."

"You make it sound easy, Sam. But he's an old hobbit! News like this could kill him."

"Rubbish," Sam scoffed. "Good news never killed anyone. You just have to build up to it, is all. Maybe lend him that book about Sian and Sial, or the warrior maid, Yivanna."

"That could work," Frodo mused. "Slowly sounds good."

"Not too slowly mind," Sam chided. "You're nearly six months gone."

"So I have plenty of time,' Frodo said reasonably. "And I'm sure he'll be so happy I'm cured that he won't get too upset at exactly how it happened."

Sam was a little doubtful about that, but he decided not to voice those doubts. This was going to be difficult enough for Frodo as it was. He tried to imagine having to tell this story to his gaffer and got another cold chill down his spine. The thought of that conversation was too horrible to imagine.

"I wonder where Gandalf is? Bilbo said he knew I was being cured. Do you think he knows about the baby?"

"Maybe. Do you want to go find him?"

"I don't think I'm ready to face him yet," Frodo said quickly.

"Well why don't we take our time with him too," Sam said reassuringly. "Maybe we could take a leaf from Bilbo's book and have a nap?" he suggested hopefully.

"Sounds good," Frodo hummed. Then he pulled away. "But before that..."

Sam's chest shook with laughter, he recognised that look. "Let me guess, pumpkin scones?"

"Actually I was thinking pumpkin soup," Frodo said greedily. "With thick crusty bread and salty butter. "Why, Sam? Are you hungry?"

"Considering someone ate all my breakfast as well as their own, yes, I could eat."

Frodo linked his arm into Sam's and began to haul him towards the kitchen. "Well, as long as you're hungry too," he said cheerfully.

888

Back outside their room was another basket and several wrapped parcels. Two elves were just laying another on the pile when Frodo and Sam arrived.

"Excuse us," the pretty elf maiden said with a smile. "We didn't mean to disturb your privacy."

"Did you leave all those for us?" Sam asked.

"Only this one," the taller elf said, indicating the top gift. It had a tiny white rose on a silver ribbon tied around it.

"Thank you," Frodo said politely. "But I'm afraid we don't understand." He exchanged worried looks with Sam. "Is it some elven holiday? Were we supposed to have gifts too?" Not giving gifts on appropriate occasions was a terrible embarrassment to a hobbit.

"No," the elf maiden assured him. "These are just tokens from the folk of Imladris. Apologies for the ill use you suffered while an honoured guest here."

"Oh, but it wasn't your fault," Sam said awkwardly. "Everyone was out trying to help us last night, I remember that much."

"All the same," the elf said. "All who have left tokens wish to express their sorrow at the tragedy, and their support for you now."

"Thank you very much," Frodo said again, bowing as best he could. Sam followed his lead, and with merry smiles and nods the pair of elves walked away, hand in hand.

"How very kind!" Frodo exclaimed, picking up the parcels and carrying them into their room. Sam picked up the basket and lifted the cloth.

"Mmm," Frodo sighed, dropping the parcels on the table and darting back to the doorway. "Do I smell cake?"

"Almond cakes I think," Sam said, sniffing appreciatively.

Frodo breathed the scent in deeply and sighed in dismay "I'm so full already! I shouldn't have had that second bowl of soup."

"Third," Sam said under his voice. Frodo made a face at him and he chuckled. "Anyway I wouldn't worry about it. I'm pretty sure your appetite will come back."

"Sam," Frodo said, sitting down at the table and unwrapping a parcel curiously. "Do you think this means the elves here, well, approve? Of the spell I mean?"

Sam pulled the soft paper off the parcel nearest him and grinned widely. "I think this is a vote of approval anyway," he said, holding up the smallest garment he'd ever seen.

"Oh my," Frodo breathed.

The shirt was pale like moonlight, long sleeved with delicate ties on the front. It was soft and light and seemed to shimmer as Sam turned it in his strong hands.

"It's a bit fancy for a hobbit babe," Sam said, delighting in the tiny little garment.

"Not for our baby," Frodo said firmly, taking the shirt in his own hands and stroking the delicate embroidered leaves on its collar. "To think someone here sewed this for us."

"They're good folk," Sam said stoutly, moved himself. "I suppose there's always one bad apple in a barrel. Or two."

"And this is soap," Frodo exclaimed, gesturing to his parcel. "Sweet and delicate for a baby. What's in that one?"

"I'm not sure," Sam said, pulling out two tiny little garments and holding them side by side. "Mittens?" he ventured.

"They're kind of wide for mittens," Frodo frowned, taking one and examining it. "Oh, wait, I know! They're, um, what are they called? They go on your feet."

"Feet?" Sam repeated incredulously.

"I've seen folk wear them under their boots and shoes. "Um, stockings, I think. Or is it socks?"

Sam held up the blue knitted items and studied them, then looked up at Frodo. "Socks? For a hobbit babe?"

Frodo's lips twitched. "It's a kind thought," he managed.

Sam tried to nod agreement but couldn't help his chuckles. A moment later Frodo was joining him and they collapsed into laughter. "Can you imagine his little face if we tried to put these on him?" Sam chortled.

"Oh, I don't know," Frodo said, wiping his eyes. "A night or two in these draughty rooms and even a hobbit's toes might need warming up."

"I can't imagine what it will be like," Sam said, turning the little socks over in his hands. "To have him born. In our arms, small enough that his feet would fit into these things."

"I know," Frodo said, stroking the moonlight shirt again. "What kind of parents will we be, Sam?"

"Unusual ones, I reckon. But he's loved and wanted, Frodo. That's all a child needs, beyond the basics like. I hope he has your eyes."

I like your eyes," Frodo said indignantly.

"And dark hair too," Sam continued thoughtfully. "Not this straw coloured mess. It grows any which way, it does."

"I like your hair too. It's like sunshine. Anyway, you'll have him look just like me," Frodo protested. "I hope he has your teeth."

Sam gnashed them with a grin. "My old gaffer still has all his, and he's more than ninety."

"And if he's as loyal and true as you, Sam, we couldn't ask for more."

Sam wrinkled his nose in protest. "You're getting all soppy now," he accused. "It's these baby things, making you all moony."

Frodo threw the wrapping at him. "Soppy?" he repeated incredulously. "I'm not the one who sings to him at night."

"It puts him to sleep," Sam defended self-consciously.

"Or the one who's written out our entire family trees and left a little space for his name on each."

"Now that's just a hobby of mine," Sam hurriedly pointed out. "Anyway, let's get the rest of these opened."

"I'll let you change the subject for now," Frodo said graciously. "But I don't expect to be called soppy again any time soon."

"Yes, Frodo," Sam said dutifully. "You know, I never even gave a thought to clothes and such like. We haven't so much as a swaddlin' cloth for the lad!"

"Well, it's not like we can pop off to the tailor and order a few outfits." Frodo smiled down at the newest gift. It was a rattle, delicately carved from one piece of wood, smoothed and shining. When shaken rings on one end rattled and settled back into place.

"All right," Frodo said, sniffing a little. "Maybe you can call me soppy, just this once."

888

"Anyone at home?" A familiar voice called from outside and Sam flew to the door to answer it.

"Mr. Gandalf!" he said joyfully.

"Hello, Samwise." The old wizard patted his shoulder fondly. "And where's our lad?"

"Here! Gandalf!"

"Frodo, my boy!" Gandalf reached out and hugged Frodo to him, patting his back gently. Frodo hugged him self consciously and then blushed when Gandalf pulled back and looked down at the firm bulge between them.

"It's all right, Frodo, you don't have to make such a face at me," Gandalf said with his eyes twinkling. "Did you think my old eyes wouldn't be able to see this marvellous cure of yours? You glow like the sun, dear boy."

Frodo smiled, cheeks rosy with joy and relief.

"And you, Samwise Gamgee." Gandalf beetled his brows at him, eyes twinkling. "May I say? Good job! Splendid!"

Sam blushed scarlet and ducked his head, grinning from ear to ear all the same.

"I wondered what you would think of it all, Gandalf," Frodo confessed.

"I approve of anything that brings the roses back to your cheeks, Frodo. And I must admit to a little curiosity about this shining child of yours. I can't wait to meet him!"

"Then you're not goin' to leave before he's born?" Sam asked hopefully.

"I wouldn't dream of it. I'll see your son come into the world, Frodo, Sam. I'll see him stretch his legs and blink his eyes at the sun."

"But you won't stay to see him grow up," Frodo said wistfully. "He'll never get to see your fireworks, the way Sam and I did when we were young."

"There will always be another beginning or ending to look forward to, my dear hobbits. The story goes on and on, remember? But my part in it will soon be over. It's time for a rest and I've earned it!"

"I can remember feeling that way once too," Frodo said, as if recalling a distant dream. "As if I'd finished a long hard day's work and was stretching and yawning, ready for my bed."

"Precisely," Gandalf said. "But you've a new life to look forward to now. The future belongs to you two and Merry and Pippin, and that young one sleeping so soundly. You all worked hard for it too. It's only right you should enjoy it. Let this older generation sail away for their rest. We'll find it all the sweeter knowing you young folk are here making the most of it."

He rubbed his hands together and smiled broadly. "Now. Is that almond cake I smell?"

888

"Gandalf," Sam said later after a pot of tea and some cakes that even Frodo managed to force down. "Mr. Bilbo mentioned you and Lord Elrond were talkin' about some troubles. Was it what happened last night?"

"Yes, Sam. I'm so sorry I didn't arrive in time to stop you both going through such a thing. I know Elrond is horrified by it all. When the Master of Imladris offers his protection he doesn't do it lightly."

"Will there be trouble for him?" Frodo asked worriedly. "And for us? Sam had no choice but to strike."

"Of course he didn't," Gandalf said reassuringly. "And Elrond is sure things will be smoothed over swiftly. All here can attest that the brothers broke all the rules of hospitality when they invaded Imladris and attacked you."

"As terrible as it was, I can't be sorry about how it ended," Sam said, a shiver running over his skin at the memory of those soft voices in the night, those swift shadows. "I don't think Frodo and I would have ever been safe from them while they lived."

"Elrond was doing his best to make sure that you would be, Sam," Gandalf said solemnly. "He was trying to negotiate your safety."

"Now he doesn't have to," Sam said stubbornly.

"As for me," Frodo said quietly. "I wish it hadn't had to come to death. There has been too much death, of late. I feel so well and happy myself, I would wish only that on others."

"In the end they made their own choices, Frodo. We can only pity them now that the depth of their hatred blinded them to all good sense and decency."

"Will we have to face such hatred again, Gandalf?" Frodo laid his hand on his belly and Sam shifted a little closer to him for comfort. "Nestadren, the healer who helped us has faced it his whole life."

"Do you know his story, Gandalf?"

"It was not one I was familiar with," the wizard confessed. "Although I have heard tell of such things before. Elrond and I have had a long conversation about this. He believes attitudes among the elves are vastly different now."

"It does seem as if some of the folk here are on our side in this," Frodo agreed. They showed their gifts to Gandalf and he admired them, especially the little shirt which he studied appreciatively. "It seems a odd," Frodo continued. "That so many elven folk have left us their tokens, when Nestadren said so many disapproved of the spell that created his life, so long ago."

"Ah, but it was a long time ago, Frodo," Gandalf pointed out, picking up the tiny rattle and shaking it absently. "And there are many differences between that time and this. These are less... passionate times for elvenkind. They are winding down their lives here, and perhaps that makes them less judgmental."

"So it's not that they approve any more, they just can't be bothered to disapprove?"

"Sam," Frodo chided. "That's hardly fair to all the friends who've left us such thoughtful gifts."

"Maybe," Sam conceded. "But don't get me wrong, I'm not complainin' about it. I'll take indifference over scorn anytime. Not to mention murderous hatred."

Gandalf shook his head with a smile. "How cynical you've become, Sam! But I suppose I can't blame you, who have suffered at the hands of this prejudice. But I said circumstances were different, and they are. Think about it! When Nestadren's parents felt threatened they went away, left the company of other elves and returned only when he was born. But you and Frodo have been here the whole time, in plain sight of the elves who dwell here. From what Elrond has said, you have been somewhat of a revelation to them."

Frodo and Sam exchanged glances. "Us?"

"No elf looking at you, Frodo, could mistake the purity of the light within you. Elrond confided that often in these last months he has heard it said how joyous it is for the folk of Imladris to have you here, in their realm. Strolling amongst the trees and gardens. Your songs and laughter, your easy smiles. Your love shining like the child within Frodo."

Sam smiled proudly and laid his hand on top of Frodo's, resting as it usually was now, on his belly.

"And the hatred of the Eastfern brothers came as quite a shock, I think. Looking between them and you, it was apparent who walked in light, and who in shadow."

Gandalf studied their linked hands on Frodo's proud belly with a gentle smile. "My dear hobbits," he said fondly. "You'll never know how happy it makes an old man to see you two together. To know that even out of darkness a new light may shine."

Frodo and Sam smiled shyly and Gandalf chuckled and heaved himself to his feet.

"Well. Will I see you at dinner? I understand one of Bilbo's best poems is being performed in his honour."

"We wouldn't miss it," Sam assured him.

888

The next few days Frodo spent his mornings with Bilbo, reading to him from his book and talking about old times. Sam left them to enjoy their reunion together, only popping in now and then to make sure Frodo wasn't starving.

Of Gandalf they saw little, he was closeted with Lord Elrond, appearing only at meal times to enjoy the feasting and the songs and poems. Frodo and Sam began taking their evening meals in the Great Hall again, despite Frodo's initial self consciousness.

Sam studied the faces of the elves the first time they entered and sat down next to Gandalf to dine, but he could see no hostility there, no disapproval. Only curiosity, and many open smiles. He let himself relax a little, but he also kept carrying his small dagger, which he'd had about his person since the morning of October the seventh. Watching Frodo smile and talk with Gandalf, so happy, so vulnerable, Sam didn't think he would ever be without it again. He could never bear to be so helpless again, not when he had so much to protect.

So Frodo spent his mornings with Bilbo and his afternoons with Sam, resting. Often when Sam popped in to check on them he'd find Bilbo snoring gently, leaning against Frodo with the younger hobbit's arm around him. There was a gentle sadness in the way Frodo cradled Bilbo in the crook of his arm, in the expression in his eyes as he smiled up at Sam.

Missing their closeness but with little to do in their garden with the year winding down, Sam found himself at a loose end for the first time in his adult life. Always he had had some task to busy himself with, but now he spent the mornings wandering the paths of Rivendell alone. It could be a terribly lonely place to be alone, he often thought.

One morning he found Nestadren sitting cross legged on a rock, looking out over the gorge with a somber face. Sam marvelled at the elf's youthful appearance. Why, he seemed no more than a lad himself with his fall of fair hair and bright brown eyes.

Today his eyes seemed somewhat shadowed and sad.

Sam stopped uncertainly when he saw him, but the healer smiled and gestured to a nearby rock.

"Please, join me, Samwise," he invited graciously. "I'm getting a little tired of my own company."

"I know how you feel." Sam sat and rubbed his hands on his wool covered thighs to warm them. He was wrapped up warmly enough, but there was a definite chill in the air. Tugging his cloak around him, Sam hoped Frodo was inside in the warm.

"Is Frodo still with his uncle?"

Sam nodded. "They're enjoying each others company. Frodo's missed him more than he'll say. And even though Bilbo says it may be a a while before they leave, I think Frodo's dreading him leaving forever." Sam sighed sadly. "How do your folk do it, Nestadren? How do they say good bye to their loved ones forever?"

"Ah, but we will see each other again, Sam, in the Undying Lands. When my time comes I will see my parents there, waiting for me. United as they have always been."

"You sound as if you're leaving soon," Sam wondered.

"I had thought these last few years that my time was coming," Nestadren nodded, his eyes distant. "It seemed the sea was calling me, just sometimes, in dreams."

"Yes," Sam said, shivering a little at the memory of that call.

"You too, Sam?" Nestadren tilted his head curiously.

"They was just dreams," Sam said flatly. "Legolas was talking about it on the journey home, is all, so it must have got me thinkin'. Why should the sea call me?"

"Perhaps because one day you will sail away," Nestadren suggested. "Who knows?"

"Middle Earth is all I need. I'd rather live right now and not worry about livin' forever. Besides, if the sea was callin' me it was just because it was callin' him too." Sam remembered again how close it had all been, but he wasn't worried about it any more. Frodo had said it, they had a new future now.

"Would you have gone with Frodo then, Sam?" Nestadren asked curiously. "Even to the Undying Lands?"

"I went with him to the heart of Mordor," Sam chuckled. "The Undying Lands sound a bit of a doddle after that."

Nestadren laughed as if he couldn't help it. "I am glad to have met you both, Sam," he said sincerely and Sam blushed a little. "All the work I have done, the studies I have made... It all feels worthwhile, to have helped save Frodo, to have been a part of bringing new life into the world."

The healer looked down at his hands, slim and pale. "To have protected that life," he finished softly.

"You're thinkin' about Glamren, aren't you?" Sam realised.

"Have you thought about Silasigil?" Nestadren murmured.

Sam shrugged. "I suppose I should have been. It's caused so much trouble for Lord Elrond, such violence in this peaceful place."

"Imladris is no stranger to violence, Sam. Elrond was more distressed about his failure to protect you both. If you had been in your rooms when the brothers broke in..."

"It was close enough for me," Sam said ruefully, raising a hand to his sore neck. "And I guess it's easier for me than for you, Nestadren. I was the one with my throat bein' cut, my lover threatened, my unborn child in danger. Takin' a life is an easy choice in those circumstances."

"For an elf to take the life of another elf," Nestadren said lowly. "Is a terrible thing. It happens, but never lightly."

"Will there be trouble for you? You won't be leavin' will you?"

"Don't worry, Sam, I will not abandon you and Frodo. I will be here for the birth."

"Thank you," Sam said sincerely. "But I'm worried for you too. You're our friend, we don't want you hurt just because you've helped us."

"Thank you, Sam," Nestadren said warmly. "I'm sure it will be fine. And it hasn't been all one sided you know, the help I've given. You and Frodo have given me much in return. A new lease on life, as Gandalf might put it."

"Really?"

"I was thinking, just before you got here, Sam. Your little one may be drawn to the healing arts, as I was."

"Really? A healer?" Sam turned the thought over in his mind. It was a noble profession. Not as good as gardening of course, but useful. Look how lost they would have been without the elven healer!

"So perhaps my time is still further away than I thought. You must give your child a proper hobbit upbringing, back in the Shire. But if the time comes and he is called down that path, you can seek me out, and I will begin his training."

"If that's what he wants," Sam agreed with delight. Then he chuckled thoughtfully. "I guess our journey won't end when we get back to the Shire, hmm?"

"The most well traveled hobbits in history," Nestadren smiled.

"That's what they called us when we got back, the four of us. The travellers." Sam couldn't help a nostalgic pang at the thought of home. With Frodo by his side he didn't feel it so keenly, but these last few days alone had made him sharply homesick.

It must have shown in his eyes because Nestadren gave him a sympathetic smile. "You miss your home very much."

"Aye," Sam agreed. "But you know, for all that, Frodo and I have been to some grand places. Terrible places too of course, but also some amazin' ones. Here. And Lothlorien. That there dwarf city way under the ground. Course, it was quite hard to enjoy 'em at the time, bein' tired and cold and scared."

"Sometimes it's easier to enjoy things in hindsight."

"But I think I'd like our lad to see the world too, someday. Not full of darkness and danger like our journey was. But I'd like him to see it."

"See what?" Frodo said from behind him.

Sam smiled and held out his hand. "Bilbo napping?"

"Well, he said he was just resting his eyes, but the snores were a bit of a give away. What were you talking about?"

"The future," Sam told him, tugging him down on the rock and wrapping an arm around him. "Mm, you're warm."

Frodo leaned closer. "I read Bilbo the story of Sian and Sial."

"What did he say?"

"Not much," Frodo said morosely. "Even less than he said about Yivanna's legend."

"We've still time, Frodo," Sam reassured him, hugging him to his side.

888

But it seemed they had less time than they thought. When they got back to their room Bilbo was sitting at their table, holding the tiny moonlight shirt in his gnarled old hands.

"Well, my lads," he said determinedly. "I think you have some explaining to do."

Frodo froze in the doorway and Sam resisted the urge to lower his chin and shuffle his feet as he used to when he was a nipper and Mr. Bilbo caught him pinching mulberries from his tree.

"I have to admit I didn't just see this little collection of goods and jump straight to the obvious conclusion," Bilbo continued, gesturing at he basket full of gifts, most of which were for the baby. "I mean to say, a fellow doesn't usually expect to hear news like that about his nephew."

"Bilbo." Frodo's face was pale and despite his worry Sam took a step closer to him. He didn't quite dare to reach out and take his hand though, not with Bilbo staring at them so piercingly.

"And I didn't even twig when you read me those rather odd legends and tales, Frodo. Child of Light! How could I have taken something so ridiculous seriously?"

Frodo winced and Sam's heart sank. After all the doubts Frodo had conquered he didn't need his beloved uncle rejecting him over something so important.

"Frodo?" Bilbo said firmly. He stepped closer and caught his young cousin's shoulders in his hands.

Frodo blinked and met his eyes bravely.

"Frodo, my foolish lad," Bilbo said gently. And then he drew Frodo against him and hugged him as he had not done since they were both many years younger.

Sam blinked his own tears away and smiled joyfully as Frodo stiffened in surprise and then melted against his uncle gladly. "Bilbo," he murmured.

"Imagine thinking you should keep such a thing from me!" Bilbo chided, drawing back and gazing at Frodo sternly. "If Gandalf hadn't gotten sick of watching you dance around the subject I imagine I'd still be in the dark for some time to come."

"It's not exactly an easy thing to explain, uncle," Frodo said, relief shining in his eyes.

"Nonsense," Bilbo scoffed. "You're well, aren't you? With a long life ahead of you? How could anyone who loves you make a fuss about how that came about?" He turned his piercing gaze on Sam who raised his eyebrows and stepped back nervously. "You're not saying much, young Samwise. So far I'm only guessing your part in this. I didn't really give Gandalf a chance to explain much after the first few sentences."

Frodo stepped out of his uncle's embrace and reached for Sam's suddenly boneless hand. "It's all right, Sam,' he reassured him, and Sam gripped his fingers hard and resisted the urge to run like a rabbit.

"Sam has as much a part in this as I do, Bilbo," Frodo said bravely, laying a hand on his belly. "This is his baby I'm carrying."

Sam thought if his ears got any redder they'd just burst into flame. But Bilbo only snorted. "I guessed that much, Frodo. Give me some credit, I didn't think that baby of yours was conjured out of thin air."

"Oh," Frodo said weakly, exchanging confused glances at Sam. "I thought you were asking Sam what part he had in this?"

"I meant what part in the future? He's helped save your life with this elven spell, but what next? I can't sail away into the West worrying about you on your own coping with a wee babe, Frodo. Will you be there to help him, Sam?"

Sam breathed out a sigh of pure relief. This he could answer. "I love Frodo, Mr. Bilbo," he said honestly. "And I've loved our babe from the minute I knew he existed. I'll take care of him for the rest of our lives."

"We'll take care of each other," Frodo interrupted firmly. "And our lad."

Bilbo studied them both for long moments, eyes narrowed. Then he smiled. "Well, all right then." He sat down at the table and heaved a sigh. "I think I need a strong brew after that."

"Aye," Sam agreed fervently. "I could do with one myself."

888

"Well, that went better than I ever thought it would," Frodo said, laying back on his bed in exhaustion.

"We should have trusted Mr. Bilbo." Sam stretched out and yawned wearily. "Thank goodness for Gandalf!"

"Bilbo's right though, he is an interfering old so and so!"

"And he's also right when he says we wouldn't have him any other way." Sam rolled onto his side and leaned on one elbow, studying his beloved's face. "Are you okay? You were very brave."

"Do you think so?" Frodo chuckled. "I felt like I was a tween again waiting for a thick ear for scrumping apples."

Sam laughed huskily. He stroked back a stray curl from Frodo's brow and twisted it around one finger. "And I feel like a weight's been lifted from my shoulders. Bilbo and Gandalf are on our side, the elves are on our side, and you're well and safe. All we have to do now is enjoy these last few months and look forward to the birth."

Frodo huffed a laugh. "Enjoy?" he said incredulously. "That's easy for you to say, Sam. You can still stand up without help. You can lay on your stomach to sleep. You don't have to pee every hour. What have I left out?"

"Eatin' like a pig?" Sam said helpfully and winced when he got an elbow in the side.

"And much as I want to see and hold our lad, Sam, I can't say I'm exactly looking forward to the birth. No, I can't say that at all."

"Well be all right, Frodo," Sam promised. "I'll be with you."

"Yes, Sam, but I'll actually be the one giving birth. I've only just got used to the idea of having him inside me."

Sam rested his head next to Frodo's on the pillow. "You do enjoy it a little bit," he teased. "You've already said so."

"Enjoy being pummelled from the inside?" Frodo asked disbelievingly. "Enjoy the aching feet and the aching back and bumping into things when I turn around?"

"Yes," Sam said firmly.

Frodo snuggled closer. "Well," he said dubiously. "I suppose it isn't all bad."

Sam pecked a kiss on his cheek and watched him drift off into one of the sudden sleeps he was prone to these days. Then he laid his hand on that warm hard bulge, and let himself drift away too.

888

"I was thinking, Frodo," Sam said, much later. "Do you want to name him after Bilbo?"

"Would you like that, Sam?"

"It's a fine name," Sam said thoughtfully. "But..."

"But it's already spoken for," Frodo finished. "I've never been one for naming a new life after an old one. I think our lad deserves a name all his own."

"Aye, that sounds about right," Sam agreed. "Maybe an elf name, Frodo? Since we wouldn't have him if it weren't for their kindness."

"That's a fine idea."

"But here's a question. Will he be a Gamgee or a Baggins?"

"Hmm, that is a good question, one that's been on my mind for a while."

"Maybe he should have his own last name too?" Sam suggested suddenly. "Maybe we all should."

Frodo frowned thoughtfully for a moment and then smiled, just a little. "A new name for our new little family, Sam?"

"Folk often take new names, Frodo. Usually when their life changes in some way that makes them think a new beginning is in order. I can't think of a bigger change than our new beginning."

"I agree, Sam," Frodo said firmly. "Even though you've just doubled our problem. Now instead of one name to think up, we have two!"

"Got to spend those long winter nights somehow, Frodo me love," Sam teased gently, and Frodo smiled and buried his head in Sam's neck once more.

 

 

Chapter 3: Many Aspects

 

Late November 1420 S.R.

Sam had a thick blanket spread out on the ground, strewn with pillows. He thought it was too cold for Frodo outside, but the pregnant hobbit said he hated being cooped up inside. He needed the fresh air. Of course as soon as he got out into the fresh air it usually managed to put him to sleep, but since just about everything did these days, Sam couldn't say much about it.

As his condition advanced and his belly swelled, Frodo seemed to be going into a kind of hibernation. When he wasn't eating he slept, curled up against or on one memorable occasion even under whatever he happened to be nearest. Nestadren said he was conserving his energy, Sam insisted he was eating himself into a stupor, but Frodo just smiled serenely and patted his expanding belly.

"I'm sleeping for two now," he would say.

"Aye, and eating for twelve," Sam would tease.

Frodo lay curled on his side, his head on a cushion and a warm quilt tucked around him. Next to him dozed his uncle Bilbo, who often joined them as they strolled around the gardens or through the edges of the forest. The old hobbit would tell them stories of the Shire, or teach them songs from his youth that he'd half forgotten. Sometimes he read too, but mostly he was content to be read to, or 'rest his eyes' in the winter sunshine.

With a yawn and a stretch Frodo sat up and blinked pleasurably in the morning sunlight. "I feel good," he pronounced, trying to stand up. Sam hauled him to his feet, letting him lean against him for a moment to collect his balance. "Have we anything to eat?"

Sam chuckled and gestured to the picnic basket. "As if I'd stir without a snack for you," he said quietly, so as not to disturb the older hobbit. He picked up the basket and carried it to a bench a little distance off, and Frodo followed and sat down, ruefully rubbing his back.

"Here," Sam handed him a wedge of cake and took over the back massage, his experienced fingers finding the right spot and making Frodo stretch and purr.

"Sam," Frodo murmured softly. "I love my uncle very much, but sometimes I miss our privacy out here. That soft bed on the grass looks very tempting right now, and I don't mean to sleep on."

Sam's heart beat a little faster and he dropped a kiss on the nape of Frodo's neck. "Don't you get me going," he chided. "It's too bloomin' cold out here for those kinds of goings on anyway. Now, if you can stay awake long enough when we get to our room..."

"Dear Sam," Frodo said, turning and dropping a kiss on his cheek. "Have you been feeling deprived lately? I do fall asleep at the most inopportune moments, I know that."

"I miss that sometimes," Sam admitted. "But as long as I can hold you close I sleep just fine. The rest can wait until you've more energy."

"But that may be months away," Frodo said in dismay.

"Then it's months," Sam said sensibly. "I've waited my whole life for you, love. A few months more won't kill me."

"I think I hear some hobbit voices," a familiar voice called out, and with a cry of surprise Sam leapt to his feet, automatically hauling Frodo up after him.

"Legolas! Gimli!" Sam cried in delight.

Their friends bounded up all smiles and Sam and Frodo rushed to greet them.

"It's good to see you, my friends," Gimli roared, wringing Sam's hand painfully. "It's been too long!'

"Frodo," Legolas said in wonder, taking his outstretched hand. "You look wonderful." A slight frown marred his perfect brow. "Truly wonderful," he said more slowly. "It's somewhat of a surprise."

"Aye," Gimli said cheerfully, patting Frodo on the back so hard he jumped. "Especially since the we heard you were at death's door, or some such nonsense. Should have known it was just elvish gossip," he muttered loudly.

"Indeed, we did hear you were unwell," Legolas said. "How glad I am to see the news was false."

"I'm fine," Frodo smiled, sitting back down on his bench and rubbing his back ruefully. "But what on earth has brought you here? This is such a surprise!"

"A pleasant one I hope," Legolas grinned.

"It's wonderful!" Sam said, dazed and pleased at the surprise.

"I see Sam here's been feeding you up," Gimli chuckled, pulling out his pipe and tobacco pouch and joining him on the bench. "You've put on some weight, young hobbit, but it suits you, aye, it does."

"I think so," Sam agreed, accepting the pouch from Gimli and happily lighting his own pipe with a grin.

"But tell us, Frodo," Legolas said curiously. "How is it you look so well? You're glowing with health! And yet the reason friend Gimli and I chose to travel this way was because we heard you were seeking a healer amongst the elves. We thought to offer our help if it was needed."

"How good of you!" Frodo exclaimed. "But as it happens Sam and I found the help we needed here at Rivendell." He slanted a smile at Sam who puffed contentedly on his pipe and nodded back. "Perhaps you know the healer who helped us," Frodo said innocently. "He's from your realm."

"Nestadren is his name," Sam supplied helpfully.

"Nestadren, yes!" Legolas said in delight. "He's much renowned for his fight against evil. In fact he..." Legolas trailed away and his eyes widened. Sam and Frodo were treated to the sight of the normally imperturbable elf with his jaw hanging open. His gaze dropped to the swell of Frodo's belly and he blinked. "Frodo," he said in wonder. "You're pregnant."

Gimli choked on his pipe smoke and sputtered a dwarfish curse. "What's that elf saying now?" he exclaimed.

"He's saying Frodo's pregnant, Gimli," Sam supplied helpfully.

"I heard that part!" Gimli snapped back.

Legolas dropped gracefully to his knees in front of Frodo. "May I?"

Frodo smilingly unbuttoned his coat and the golden haired elf reverently lifted his hands and laid them on the swell of Frodo's belly.

"Stuff and nonsense," Gimli spluttered, frowning doubtfully at the smooth swell, much more clearly outlined beneath the thin shirt. "That's some joke, and no mistake." He raised a brow at Sam. "Strange sense of humour they have," he said in a loud aside.

Legolas' hands shaped Frodo's tummy, his eyes drifting closed. "Fael," he murmured. "Beautiful light."

"Fine," Gimli said grumpily. "Speak elvish now, tell your private jokes. Never let it be said a dwarf couldn't take an elf joke." He pointed the stem of his pipe at Frodo's middle. "Go on lad, pull that cushion out of your shirt and let us all in on it."

Sam was snickering through his pipe smoke and Frodo was grinning widely as he swiftly unbuttoned his thin white shirt. "Never let it be said a Baggins wasn't up for a dare," he chuckled, and a moment later his swelling stomach was clearly visible. What's more, with his perfect timing the babe extended one tiny limb and kicked, sending a ripple over the taut skin.

"That's my lad," Frodo said proudly.

Legolas was smiling in delight and Gimli's pipe hung out of his slack jaw as he pointed one quivering finger.

"That hobbit has a baby in him!" he exclaimed.

"I know," Sam said smugly. "I put it there."

This time Gimli bit clean through the stem and his pipe dropped in two pieces on the ground.

"Bloody hell," he cried. "That was my best pipe!"

"Sam!" Legolas said gladly, rising and reaching for Sam's hand. "Congratulations!"

"You put it there?" Gimli repeated. "How?"

Even Legolas broke into laughter at that question, and Gimli's face grew red, or at least the parts of it that could be seen through his beard and moustache.

"You know what I mean!" he thundered in embarrassment.

"It is Galinsell, Child of Light," Legolas explained. "He is healing Frodo from within." Legolas' eyes grew dreamy again. "He is beautiful."

"I think he will be," Frodo said complacently. "He'll get his looks from my side of the family," he teased Sam with a wink.

"As long as he gets his good sense from mine," Sam said placidly.

"Elven magic," Gimli said in dismay. "Hobbit lads with babies inside them, talking trees. What's next? Dancing rocks? Clouds that give milk? The world waits with bated breath for their next brilliant idea."

Legolas wrinkled his nose and shrugged eloquently. "You get used to it," he said to Frodo and Sam.

"That elven spell saved Frodo's life," Sam pointed out.

"Harumph, well," Gimli said, picking up his broken pipe and surveying it in dismay. "Elves come in handy from time to time, I suppose," he allowed grudgingly.

"Like fixing that pipe for you," Legolas offered, and Gimli harumphed again, slightly less grudgingly this time.

"Legolas," Sam asked curiously. "What was that word you used before? Fael?"

"I was describing the light I felt from within Frodo," Legolas explained. "Fael is brilliance, as if from the sun."

"Fael," Sam mused.

888

Gimli pulled Sam aside while Frodo and Legolas chattered to each other.

"Sam lad," he said reproachfully. "I thought you had more sense than to get mixed up in elf magic. Surely you could have found another way?"

"I'd have used any magic, Gimli, to save his life. Paid any price." Sam smiled over at Frodo who was describing something to Legolas with broad sweeps of his hand. Legolas appeared to be hanging on every word, nodding his head with bright eyes. "As it turned out there was no price. Only a gift. Two gifts, Frodo's life, and the babe's."

"A babe," Gimli said, shaking his head doubtfully. "You seem to be taking all this in your stride, I must say. I never took hobbits for such adaptable creatures before. Have you had no doubts then?"

"Speaking for myself, no," Sam admitted. "Not really. But then I've had the easy part."

Gimli coughed into his hand. "I wouldn't say that," he muttered.

Sam chuckled and shook his head. "P'raps we won't go too far into that subject."

"I'd be grateful," Gimli said fervently. "But what about Frodo, lad? Surely he's had his doubts? Although he seems right as rain with it now."

Sam sobered a little. "It's been a long road, Gimli. And not an easy one for Frodo." He brightened. "But now? Let me tell you how it goes with us. Frodo is eating pretty much everything that doesn't move these days, and by that, my friend, I mean don't take any unexpected naps or you might wake to find him chewing on your beard."

Gimli snorted.

"And he sleeps a lot. I've seen him fall asleep between one word and the next, over the pages of a book, sitting in the bath. When he's not sleeping I'm rubbing his back because it aches or his belly because it's so tight. And I won't even go into the cravings that always, without fail come in the middle of the night. You've not lived until you've passed midnight crawling around the floor of an elven kitchen looking for the sack of mushrooms Frodo is sure he saw the day before."

"You sound like you're coping though," Gimli observed with a twinkle in his eye.

Sam smiled, his heart in his eyes. "My friend, these are the happiest days of our lives."

"Well, I'm glad for you both," Gimli said gruffly, sniffing a little. "You deserve a bit of happiness. Although I'm still not sure about lads having babies, I must admit. I'll have to think on that a wee bit more."

"But, Gimli," Legolas said with a wicked grin, joining them with Frodo by his side. "If it were I who needed this form of healing, and you were called upon to help me or lose me, what would you say?"

"I'd say, good-bye fair princeling," Gimli said with finality. "It was nice knowing ye."

888

"What's this? Mr. Frodo in my bed? But I hardly recognise him with his eyes open."

"Very funny. Maybe you should just take advantage of him while his eyes are open," Frodo suggested seductively.

"Take advantage of a pregnant hobbit?" Sam asked in his best scandalised tone. He jumped eagerly in the bed and into welcoming arms. "Mm, you feel good! But it's been so long, maybe I've forgotten what to do?"

"It's been all of a week," Frodo corrected. "But if you're not in the mood..." He closed his eyes and yawned.

"Oh no you don't!" Sam ordered.

888

"I forgot a cloth," Sam bemoaned, reluctantly fighting his way free of their nest of blankets. Frodo was humming with pleasure, laying back against the pillows with his eyes shut and a smile on his lips. Sam figured he'd be fast asleep by the time he came back with the cloth, but instead he found his love sitting up in the bed, hunched over.

"Frodo!' Sam panicked when Frodo hunched over even further. What if he had been too rough? Had they hurt the baby?

"Sam!" Frodo looked up, his face frightened. "Here." He laid his hand under his prominent swell and Sam's own stomach clenched in fear. He fair leapt up on the bed and pulled the covers down, eyes searching the spot where Frodo's hand lay.

"Do you see it?" Frodo asked nervously. "Or is it my imagination?"

"I see it," Sam confirmed, his mouth dry. He carefully reached out and traced the thin pink line that ran under the swell. It felt like a seam or scar under his fingertips. "Does it hurt?"

"I didn't even know it was there!" Frodo said, his voice slightly frantic. "Sam, it's hard for me to tell without seeing it, but does it seem awfully... small to you?"

Sam measured with his hands, sliding them up over Frodo's tummy until they reached his belly button. There was an awful lot of baby on both sides. The hobbits exchanged wide eyed looks. Then Sam widened his hands to encompass the width of Frodo's belly and then slid down, narrowing the gap until the palms spanned that narrow still-forming slit.

"That can't be right!" Frodo exclaimed, a definite note of hysteria in his voice.

"Calm down, love," Sam said automatically.

""But, Sam! I still have nearly two months to go, I'm getting bigger every week! How is he supposed to get out through that little opening?"

"Well, a lasses opening is a lot smaller, isn't it?"

"I'm not a lass!" Frodo shouted. He was breathing deeply in and out and Sam pulled the covers back over him, tucking them around his cooling skin and making soothing noises.

"I know you're not," he said, cuddling him close. "Of course you're not. But your body's known what to do so far, hasn't it? Hmm? Come on, let me wipe you over, since I went and got the cloth." He busied himself under the covers while Frodo's breathing levelled out and his clenched hands relaxed. "Sorry the cloth's cold. I wish we had a little fireplace in here, so's I could boil us a kettle sometimes. I sure miss my own kitchen."

"Sam," Frodo interrupted, eyes opening in his pale face. "It's all right, I'm all right."

"Course you are," Sam agreed, breathing a sigh of relief.

"I just panicked a little bit."

"Yes," Sam agreed ruefully, dumping the cloth over the side of the bed. "Me too."

"Sometimes it feels as if our time here is endless, doesn't it? Other times it feels as if it's all flying by too quickly."

"Quickly enough." Sam sat by Frodo, feeling his heart begin to slow. He pulled the covers straight and laid a loving hand on Frodo's tummy. Frodo covered his hand tenderly.

"Sam? There's something we have to talk about."

Sam settled down comfortably. "All right."

"I... I need you to promise me something."

"Anything, you know that."

"If anything happens to me, Sam, I need to know that you'll take care of the baby."

"Nothing's goin' to happen to you, Frodo," Sam said quickly. "You're fine."

"Yes, I am fine. We're fine. But things go wrong sometimes, Sam, and we have to-"

"No!" Sam interrupted fiercely. "Nothin's goin' to go wrong! So you just stop-"

Frodo leaned forward and put a gentle hand over Sam's lips. "Sam," he whispered tenderly. "We've spent a lot of time ignoring things, haven't we? But we can't ignore this, love, not this." He stroked Sam's trembling lips.

Sam caught his fingers in his own and kissed them tenderly.

"My goodness, but we went into this blindly! All caught up in finding a cure, and then making it work. And here we are with a new life between us, a life we created, and we have to take responsibility for that."

"We have been responsible," Sam insisted shakily. "We are responsible."

"Then there's something we need to face," Frodo said solemnly. "Giving birth can be dangerous, love. Even for bodies designed to do it. Mothers die in childbirth, Sam, you know they do."

Sam clenched his jaw, tears pricking his eyes. "I know they do," he admitted. "But you're not goin' to."

"Course not." Frodo squeezed his fingers. "But we need to talk about it all the same. If the worst did happen I need to know you'll take care of our baby."

"Of course I will!" Sam choked out. He hated this helpless feeling, hated the tears clogging his throat, blinding his eyes. "You don't need to ask questions like that. I love him, remember? I always have."

Frodo winced and Sam instantly felt contrite.

"I'm sorry!" he cried. "I didn't mean it like that!"

"Didn't you?" Frodo wiped his own eyes now. "I'm not questioning your love for him, Sam. I'm just saying things have changed now, that's all. It's not just you and me any more. We can't go haring off on adventures when it suits us and we can't go making promises we can't keep."

"What promises?"

"You promised to follow me, Sam, remember? You followed me to the end of the world. You'd have followed me to the Undying Lands if I went, wouldn't you?"

Sam could only nod.

Frodo's voice was a whisper. "But if I die giving him life, you can't follow me, Sam. Not this time. One of us has to stay and take care of him."

Tears poured down Sam's face as he accepted the truth of that. He'd always known he wouldn't be left behind if Frodo went. He'd abandoned the Shire again, hadn't he? He'd have dragged Frodo across Middle Earth looking for a cure. And if they hadn't found one he'd always known at the back of his mind that he'd follow him on that last journey too.

Because the thought of living in a world without Frodo in it was unbearable.

"Sam?"

"I know," Sam wept. "I know you're right. And I do promise, Frodo, I do."

"And I promise too, Sam. If anything happens to either of us the other will go on." He reached out and stroked Sam's wet cheek. "It will be all right, Sam."

Sam cupped the hand to his face, feeling Frodo's warmth soak into his chilled skin. "I'm sorry I said that, about you not loving him. I know you do."

"But I haven't always," Frodo admitted. "I'm not sure I'll ever forgive myself for that. I never doubted your love for him though, Sam." Frodo grimaced and rubbed his back and Sam reached behind him and pressed with his strong fingers in just the right place. Frodo sighed and leaned back into his touch.

"Do you think all couples who are expectin' have talks like this?" Sam wondered.

"I suppose they do," Frodo said, looking bemused. He huffed a laugh. "I suppose they must. Sometimes it feels as if we're the only ones this has ever happened to."

"Well, we are pretty special." Sam yawned.

Frodo laid his head on Sam's shoulder. "We are that."

888

"Well, he likes elf songs just fine, and hobbit songs make him dance, but so far dwarf songs just put him right to sleep."

"In pure self defence, I imagine," Legolas chuckled.

Sam joined in quietly, not wanting to disturb the napping trio. Frodo was curled up as usual on his side and Bilbo had his kerchief over his face and was snoring softly. And between then Gimli lay flat on his back, arms crossed, sleeping like the dead.

"Another one who'll insist he's just resting his eyes," Sam joked.

"He can sleep anywhere," Legolas said in admiration. "Even on horse back. While we're galloping."

"Well, Bilbo's old and Frodo's pregnant and Gimli's making up for lost sleep. Looks like between them we only have each other for company."

"Pregnant." Legolas shook his shining head. "Here is Legolas, son of Mirkwood, sitting in Imladris with a dwarf and a pregnant hobbit lad. When the world stops surprising me, Sam, then it will be time to listen to the call of the gulls, but not before."

"It feels like all our friends are sailing away," Sam said wistfully.

"Not I, Sam, at least not for a long while yet. Gimli has business with the dwarves of Erebor and I've promised to ask some of my own people to go to Gondor. Aragorn's neglected kingdom needs all the friends it can get."

"Then you'll be going soon?"

Legolas smiled quickly. "You won't get rid of us that easily. Gimli will do better talking to his people without an elf along, so with Lord Elrond's permission we'll use Imladris as a base, and come and go from here for a while yet."

"Will you still be here in February then?" Sam said hopefully.

"Dear Sam, have you been lonely here, you and Frodo?"

Sam shrugged. "As long as we have each other we're not lonely. But it is good to be with old friends again." Sam glanced over at Frodo, his face shadowed. "It takes our minds off our worries."

Legolas followed his gaze. "Old friends make good listeners, Sam."

Sam smiled gratefully. "We're just scared, that's all. Normal fears for parents to be, even if we're not very normal parents."

"Well then," Legolas said cheerfully. "Let's not talk about fears and worries on such a fine day. Tell me happy tales, Sam. Joyful ones. About you and Frodo perhaps. When did you discover this love you have for each other?"

Sam's cheeks turned pink. "We've always loved each other," he said shyly.

"Of course," Legolas nodded. "Your bond has been clear from the beginning. I remember how bravely you rushed into Lord Elrond's council and stated you would not let Frodo leave without you."

Sam covered his face with embarrassment.

"And how dedicated you were to care for him on our long journey. Never did he reach out that you weren't there to take his hand."

"I promised Gandalf that I'd look after him," he reminded Legolas. Then he chuckled. "But I'd of done it anyway."

"Your bond was clear. But I did not think then it was this kind of love." The elf's eyes twinkled. "The kind that makes babies."

Sam chortled. "Not hardly," he declared. "We was just friends is all. Deeper friends than most, on account of all we'd been through."

Legolas looked over at the snoring Gimli with a gentle look in his eyes. "Yes."

"But just friends."

"So when you came here," Legolas realised. "When my kinsman offered you a possible cure..." His blue eyes widened in admiration.

Sam couldn't help his wide smile. "Still being surprised by the world, Legolas?"

"So long as it has hobbits in it I think I always will be."

"What's all this chatter about?" Frodo yawned and stretched, pointing his toes and sighing in pleasure. "I'm trying to sleep for two over here."

Sam trotted over and hauled him to his feet, wrapping a strong arm around his waist and letting him steady himself.

"Come join us, Frodo," Legolas invited. Sam sat Frodo down at the stone table, and even before the weight was off his feet he was reaching for a shiny red apple.

"What were you two laughing about anyway?"

"The excellence of hobbits," Legolas said solemnly.

Frodo chuckled around a mouthful.

"Actually, Legolas," Sam said thoughtfully. "There's something I need some advice over. Frodo and I were thinkin' of giving the baby an elf name. What do you think?"

Blue eyes lit with pleasure. "I think it's a wonderful idea. Do you have a name in mind?"

"You don't think it's a bit of a cheek? A hobbit with an elf name?"

"My people will be honoured, Sam."

"So how do elves name babies then?" Frodo asked curiously. "I've heard elf names that seem to have meaning and some that don't. How does it work?"

"The names we are given at birth are always ours," Legolas explained. "But they are not always the names we take when we are grown up or the names that might be given to us. Like Nestadren. His adult name describes his calling as a healer."

Frodo nodded thoughtfully.

"When you arrived yesterday and touched Frodo's belly, you said Fael, remember?" Sam said. "It was like you were callin' his name."

Frodo tilted his head. "Fael," he said softly. "It's nice. Gentle but strong."

"I was describing the light I saw from him, Sam," Legolas said dreamily. "Like brilliant sunlight."

"But would it make a good name?"

"A perfect name, I think."

"Fael," Frodo repeated. "I like it. Oh!" His eyes widened and he pressed his hand to his stomach with a wince. "He likes it too!"

Sam laid a hand on the mound and chuckled at the strong kick. "Fael," he said tenderly. "Our sunshine."

 

Chapter 4: Many Aspects

 

January 1421 S.R.

Sam splashed water on his face, gasping at the cold sting against his sleep flushed cheeks.

"This isn't funny any more," Frodo said grumpily and Sam buried his face in a towel to hide his grin. Frodo had thrown the covers back and was staring down at the absolutely huge mound of his stomach. "I'm serious, Sam," he said in despair. "I just want this to be over, right now!"

Sam hastened around the bed and grabbed Frodo's hands, pulling until the hugely pregnant hobbit was sitting up, feet over the bed.

"Just a few more weeks, love," he said, turning his minds to practicalities. "What do you want to wear?"

"What fits me?" Frodo groused. "Pants that hang around my waist. I miss buttons, Sam. Pants with buttons."

Sam huffed a laugh. "All the things you could miss, m'dear, and pants with buttons is the best you can come up with?"

"You'd be amazed at the things I miss." Frodo surveyed the pants Sam was shaking out with a down turned mouth. "I miss being able to stand up on my own, Sam. I miss enjoying a drink without wondering how long it's going to be before I have to pee again. For that matter I miss an undisturbed night's sleep."

"Well, get used to that one," Sam said, bending to pull the pants over hairy feet. "With a new babe in the house..." He trailed off, lifting his hand and staring at it in dismay. It was smeared with blood.

"Sam?" Frodo reached down under his belly, instantly feeling the wet stickiness. His eyes opened wide in panic. "Is this it?" he panicked. "It's too soon, Sam!"

"I'll get Nestadren," Sam said shakily, pants still clutched in his hands. "Don't move," he ordered, running from the room. Legolas was walking towards their rooms and Sam ran to him in relief. "Frodo needs the healer!" he cried.

Legolas wasted no time. "Go back to Frodo," he said, turning and running swift footed down the path. Sam raced back to Frodo, finding him right where he'd left him, hands cradling his belly protectively.

"The healer's coming," Sam assured him, wrapping a strong arm around trembling shoulders. "It'll be all right. Do you have pain?"

"No." Frodo shook his head. "I feel fine. What's happening, Sam?"

"I don't know," Sam said helplessly. "Nestadren said there might be spots of blood, remember? As the slit formed."

"This is more than spots," Frodo said anxiously. "Oh, Sam, I know I said I want it to be over, but I want Fael to be born safe more." He closed his eyes and curled his face into Sam's neck. "Please let him be all right."

Nestadren arrived with Legolas and Sam reluctantly let Frodo go as the healer helped him lay back and lifted his night shirt. Legolas laid a warm hand on his shoulder and Sam leaned into it gratefully. It was good to have friends nearby them, good to have someone to turn to. It was so difficult sometimes, having to be brave and strong all the time, especially as Frodo got further along and more and more worried.

"It's all right," Nestadren pronounced, wiping carefully beneath Frodo's belly with a soft cloth. "His body is opening itself, preparing. I warned you there would be some blood and mucous."

"You said spots," Sam said accusingly. "That was more than spots."

Nestadren chuckled, pulling Frodo's nightshirt down and smoothing it over his swollen belly. "Our Frodo doesn't do anything by halves." He folded the stained rag and laid it aside. "All the same, things are moving more quickly than I expected. It might be best, Frodo, if you spent your remaining time in bed."

"The whole time?" Frodo exclaimed.

"Whatever you say," Sam said more loudly. "Whatever you think is best."

"Yes, of course," Frodo agreed meekly. "Whatever is best."

Nestadren pressed Frodo's stomach, hands gentle and assured. "He's in the right place," he said thoughtfully. "And he seems to be a good size."

"He's that all right," Frodo agreed fervently.

"Everything's as it should be, Frodo," the healer assured him. "Rest, save your energy. You'll need it when your Fael arrives! Legolas, make Frodo comfortable, will you? Sam, a moment?"

Sam followed the healer into the hall, aware of Frodo's anxious gaze following them.

"I want you to stay close to Frodo now, Sam," Nestadren said calmly. "When this happens it will all be very quick, do you understand? Maybe fifteen minutes from start to finish."

"That's good, isn't it? I was worried about him suffering too long."

"He must stay in bed, Sam, and absolutely no exertion, understand?" Sam nodded fervently. Nestadren laid a hand on his shoulder. "No love making," he smiled and Sam blushed and ducked his head.

"Of course not," he managed.

The healer hesitated. "Sam," he said slowly. "The birth is the most dangerous time, for both of them. Frodo's body is actually opening up to expel the babe, and there's a great deal of danger involved in this. I don't want to worry you..."

Sam nodded, his face pale. "We understand," he said softly. "We're ready."

Nestadren's hand tightened on his shoulder. "I'm moving into the next room," he said, nodding down the hall. "I want to be close night and day."

"Knowing our lad it will be the middle of the night," Sam joked, trying to smile. He had to put a smile on his face before he went back to face Frodo.

"I will be close by," Nestadren assured him.

Legolas was handing Frodo a cup of water when Sam came back in.

"What did he say?" Frodo said, pushing the cup away. "Why did he drag you out of here? This is happening to me, you know! I have a right to hear what he has to say!"

Legolas laid the cup on the bedside table and backed away, eyebrows raised. "I'll leave you to it," he said, and fled.

"Cowardly elf," Sam muttered. He picked the cup up and proffered it but Frodo was glowering at him. "Well? If you don't tell me I'll just worry about it."

"He said you're not to exert yourself," Sam said mildly, sipping the cool water himself.

"Oh, right, so scratch the plans to go out and hoe the garden this afternoon then," Frodo said sarcastically.

"He meant love making actually."

"Oh." Frodo's flush of temper faded a little.

"Probably didn't want to embarrass you in front of Legolas. He also said he was moving down the hall, which is a bit of a relief."

"Yes." Frodo twisted his fingers together, rubbing at the stump of his missing finger as he was in the habit of doing when worried. "Is that really all he said, Sam? You wouldn't keep anything from me, would you? Fael is all right?"

"You're both all right," Sam assured him, reaching for the nervous fingers, stilling them tenderly. "He said it would be very fast, Frodo. Fifteen minutes."

Frodo's face was pale. "And dangerous?"

"No more'n we already knew." Sam kissed him. "And nothin' to worry about. Before you know it we'll have our Fael here in our arms and all this will be a memory."

"Don't say we'll probably laugh about it one day," Frodo threatened, wiping his eyes.

"We probably will," Sam smiled. "Imagine the stories we'll have for our little lad! Forget about savin' the world! His Dad-Frodo carried a baby inside him! Much more impressive than magic rings and suchlike."

"Rubbish," Frodo exclaimed. "If he's anything like his Dad-Sam all he'll want to know about is elves and dragons and grand quests. Babies are boring next to all that."

Sam leaned his forehead on Frodo's and they closed their eyes for long moments, taking strength from each other beyond the easy words that lay on the surface. They both knew they were facing the most frightening challenge of their lives. But they also knew they were together, and there wasn't much the world held that frightened two determined hobbits if they had each other.

"Sam?" Frodo whispered.

"Hm?"

"I need to pee."

Sam chuckled, then leaned under the bed and pulled out an empty chamber pot. He surveyed Frodo sitting in the bed and shook his head. "Just as well I love you."

888

Having dear friends made all the difference to Frodo and Sam in the week that followed. Lord Elrond sent books, more than a hobbit could read in a year, Sam figured. Legolas bought a complicated game on a board which had intricate carved figures and incredibly complex rules. And Gimli produced a pack of cards that looked as if he had been carrying them through the entire quest, and proceeded to be thrashed soundly by Sam and Frodo every time they played. He usually accused them of cheating then loftily announced he was letting them win, them being newcomers to the game and all.

Nestadren was never more than a call away, and the friends had merry meals together with Frodo at the centre, enthroned in his bed, and sternly kept there by Sam.

Bilbo visited in the mornings and together they came up with new chapters for Frodo's book of the quest. Somehow the stories seemed less dark and frightening here in their sunlit room, with the promise of a new future safe and snug with them.

But at night Sam would wake to find Frodo laying back staring at the ceiling, his hands on his belly, stroking the swell of the baby with loving fingers. Helpless, Sam could only hold him close.

888

One night Sam dreamed a strange, sad dream. He was standing in a place he didn't know and had never been. Around him was an ancient and decaying city, in front of him a harbour and blue water stretching into the distance.

White birds wheeled and cried in the sky above him and he looked up at them, tears blurring his eyes. They were the only sign of life in this sad, grey place.

He was alone.

888

"Sam?"

Frodo was touching his cheek, stroking his tears away with gentle fingers.

"Bad dream, love?"

Sam blinked the moisture from his eyes, focusing on Frodo's dear face leaning over his. Their room was lit by a single soft lamp, its light casting pale shadows on the walls.

Sam's throat felt too thick and tight for words. He reached out and drew Frodo against him, curving his hands possessively around the sturdy back, feeling the beautiful firm bulge of their baby between them. The warmth and life of them seeped into his chilled body and drew him away from the ill dream.

"Just a dream," Sam confirmed, trying to convince himself.

888

"So he ended up having to wear it all the time for nothing anyway!" Gandalf finished and Frodo laughed merrily.

Sam shook his head at the incorrigible old wizard. "Didn't that story have a different ending last time you told it?" he pointed out.

"Stories can have lots of endings, Sam," Gandalf said serenely. "Depending on who's telling them."

Frodo rubbed his tummy as he chuckled. "But surely there's only one real ending?"

"Oh, if all you're talking about is reality," Gandalf said scornfully. "Where's the fun in that?"

Sam shook his head again, pouring another cup of tea. "Another cake?" he offered and Frodo took one and licked the icing happily.

"It's not so bad," he announced placidly. "Sitting back in bed being fed and entertained. I could get used to it."

"And how is your Fael?" Gandalf asked, laying one large hand over the blanket covered mound of Frodo's belly. "Still kicking all night?"

"He's slowed down actually," Frodo said, hand on the side of his swell. "Nestadren said he's getting ready to come out, saving his energy."

"He's got plenty of that," Gandalf said thoughtfully, eyes narrowed as he stroked over the taut mound. He smiled and then chuckled heartily. "You have quite a handful there," he announced, lifting his hand away and straightening. "I'm not sure you have any idea what you lads have taken on."

"Can you see him, Gandalf?" Frodo asked eagerly.

"Just the light and life of him," Gandalf said. "And how much of the two of you are in him." He clapped Sam on the shoulder. "I'd make sure Nestadren is nearby tonight, Sam my lad. I'm pretty sure the long awaited Fael will be making his appearance before morning."

Sam gaped in surprise. "Really?"

"Do not question the wisdom of wizards," Gandalf said portentously, then grinned. "Really."

Frodo gazed at Sam in shock. "It's still a few weeks early," he said anxiously.

"Nevertheless, he's ready now, Frodo."

Sam looked down at his hands where he had been holding a cake. There was nothing left but sticky icing and crumbs in his hand and he grabbed a napkin and rubbed it clean, mind racing. "Um, I better tell Nestadren then," he stammered. "I suppose it's nice to have some warning, we can have everything all ready." He looked at Gandalf again. "Are you really sure?" he asked piteously.

Gandalf clapped him hard on the shoulder. "Bear up, young Samwise," the wizard said bracingly. "It's your son's birthday, or close to it! I'll go let the healer know, shall I? You stay with Frodo and make the most of your time as a couple. You'll be a family by morning."

"Family," Sam repeated numbly, reaching for Frodo's clutching hands with his own shaking ones.

"I really don't feel any different," Frodo insisted. "Maybe Gandalf's wrong? What does he know about babies, anyway?"

"I think he knows everything."

888

It was indeed the middle of the night before Frodo began to feel anything. He'd already napped once, while Sam and Nestadren laid out clean cloths and bowls of water and Legolas and Gimli and Bilbo paid visits and fussed around him. By midnight he just seemed bored with the whole thing and ready for it to be over. Finally, as Gimli nodded on Legolas' shoulder and the two elves were chatting quietly to each other Frodo gasped and put a hand on his side.

Sam straightened from his half doze next to him, alert at once.

"Frodo?"

Frodo frowned, hand stroking his belly. Then he gasped again, fingers tightening on his swell. "I feel it," he exclaimed. "Pressure, pushing." He moaned and arched back a little and Sam was behind him instantly, on his knees, bracing him. "Is this right?" Frodo beseeched the healer.

They all watched anxiously as Nestadren bared the hugely swollen belly and probed beneath it. "This is it," he announced. "Everyone out but Sam and Legolas."

"What's happening? Sam asked anxiously as Frodo's belly seemed to shiver with a life of its own. He barely noticed the others leaving the room.

"His stomach muscles are forcing Fael down, Sam, to the slit." Nestadren smiled reassuringly at Frodo. "Can you sit up, Frodo?"

"I want to kneel," Frodo panted, hands cradling his belly. "Can I kneel?"

"That might be best," Nestadren agreed, and Legolas and Sam helped Frodo onto his knees. Sam wrapped both arms around him from behind, covering Frodo's hand on the swell of their baby, feeling the incredible strength of his stomach muscles pushing the weight of the babe downwards.

"It hurts!" Frodo cried out, and Sam closed his eyes at the sight of the blood and mucous that began pouring onto the padding covering the mattress. Surely that was too much blood? Frodo's body was splitting open! How on earth could anyone survive this?

"The slit is opening, Frodo," Nestadren said calmly, dabbing with a padded cloth, strong hands supporting Frodo's belly and pressing gently.

"I knew it wasn't big enough!" Frodo gasped, squeezing Sam's fingers and arching back against his strong chest. "Sam!"

"I'm here," Sam managed through his terror. "Nearly there, love."

"I see his head!" the healer exclaimed. "Sam, lay your hands atop the swell and push, gently."

Sam's eyes flew open in disbelief but he hastened to obey and Frodo's hands were there first, finding the spot, trying to push. But he was already weakening and his hands could only grip Sam's as another shudder of pain swept through him.

"He's really hurtin'!" Sam said desperately as he pressed the spot. "Nestadren!"

"Just keep pressing, Sam," the healer said. "He's crowning, there's a head of curls here but I need you to help push him out. Frodo! Nearly there!"

"I'm all right," Frodo panted, tears on his face. "Is he all right?"

Suddenly he threw his head back onto Sam's shoulder with a cry, and then there was another thinner cry from beneath him. "His head's out," Nestadren cried gladly. "And he couldn't wait to let us know he's here!"

"Sam!" Frodo wept, body still shuddering. "Can you hear him?"

"I can, love," Sam said, hands still pressing, tears on his own face now. He kissed Frodo's wet cheek.

"The shoulders now, Frodo," Nestadren said over the mewling wails. "This is the hard part!"

Sam tried to peer down but regretted it instantly at the sight of the blood on the bed. His joy froze into fear again as pink fluid trickled down the healer's wrists and he pressed his head into Frodo's neck and pushed as hard as he dared at the swell.

Frodo's cried out again and his knees seemed to give out beneath him as his body arched and shuddered. Sam held him up, hands sliding to Frodo's side now, as with a gasping cry he felt through Frodo's body as the baby's shoulders passed through the slit and the rest of his body followed.

"I have him!" Nestadren cried out joyfully. "Legolas?" Their elf friend had a cloth ready and the healer laid the red squirming bundle in it, examining the pulsing cord that still attached him to Frodo.

"Sam," Frodo panted weakly, his head lolling back onto Sam's shoulder. "Can you see him? Is he all right?"

"He's fine, Frodo, Sam choked, his eyes drawn to the blood that covered the baby and his swaddling and the healer's hands. Sam shakily helped Frodo to lay back against him as the healer dealt with the cord.

"Sam!" Frodo cried again in alarm, back arching again.

"It's just the afterbirth," Nestadren assured him, dealing with it swiftly as Frodo relaxed back with a sigh of relief. He nodded at Legolas, who laid the baby on Frodo's chest, while Sam tearfully lifted his love's weak hands to hold him there. Sam wanted to watch the soft joy in Frodo's eyes as he peered at the squalling baby waving angry fists at them, but he was all too aware that Nestadren was still working busily below Frodo's belly, padded cloths pressed to his open wound, exchanging rapid words with Legolas in their own language.

"Sam," Frodo slurred. "Look, Sam, at what we made!"

Fear was wrapped around his heart, but Sam reached out and cradled the tiny head in his hand, taking in the screwed up red face and the wet curls on unbelievably small feet. "He's beautiful, Frodo," he said thickly.

"Fael," Frodo murmured, his voice fading, his hands going slack.

"Frodo!" Sam cried in alarm. "Nestadren!"

"It's all right, Sam," the healer reassured him, as Legolas lifted the baby up and away. "He's lost a lot of blood but the flow's stopping. The slit is already closing itself."

Sam's chest was tight with terror and he sniffed, trying to see through the tears that ran down his cheeks. "So much blood," he wept. "Please, Nestadren." He looked at Legolas who was gently wiping the squalling infant with a soft cloth. "Legolas?" he beseeched.

Legolas looked up and over at the healer and Sam closed his eyes in despair, holding Frodo as close as he could, willing all the strength from his own body into the pale one in his arms. "Please," he begged. "Please."

"Sam." He didn't know how many minutes passed before he felt Nestadren lay a hand on his shoulder and Sam unstuck his wet eyes, focusing on the elf's face, and then down at the hobbit in his arms. Frodo's face was pale but peaceful, he was breathing evenly, eye lashes quivering.

"Frodo?" Sam whispered.

"He's very weak, Sam," the healer said seriously. "But he's young and strong. He'll be fine."

"Are you sure? How is it all down there?" Sam said anxiously, nodding to the wide pad under Frodo's curiously soft looking belly.

"The slit has sealed itself and the bleeding has stopped."

"There was so much blood!" Sam shivered.

"I have a tonic he can take that will help restore his strength, but he will be confined to bed for a few days yet. Until I'm sure the slit is healing well."

Sam stroked Frodo's hair, gratified to feel the flush of warmth from his skin where before it had been icy cool. "I'm glad that was quick," he said whole heartedly. "And that he never has to go through it again. I tell you, if he was a wife and me his husband? I'd make sure there were no more babies ever!"

Nestadren chuckled, still busy cleaning Frodo and removing the soiled padding beneath him.

"You might feel differently once you hold your babe again, Sam," Legolas said gently behind him and Sam turned and focused on the soft chair where Legolas was sitting. Held against his chest was a swaddled form that looked impossibly small in his strong arms. Careful not to disturb his sleeping love, Sam laid another gentle kiss on Frodo's forehead before he climbed off the bed.

Sam's arms ached to gather that precious bundle to him, but he suddenly found himself faltering in his tracks, fear trickling through him. What did he know about babies? He'd never even picked one up before! Various relatives and friends had little ones, but Sam had always had too much work to do to worry about getting to know them. Besides, it was lasses that sat around and cuddled babies and talked about their mysteries.

"It's all right, Sam," Legolas murmured, and he leaned forward and deposited the bundle in his arms. Sam instinctively cradled his son in the crook of his arm, breath drawing in surprise at how light he seemed. With a trembling hand he stroked the soft cover away, revealing a damp downy cap of golden curls and pale pink skin. The baby wrinkled his nose and then opened his mouth in a yawn, and Sam felt his knees go weak at the rush of love to his heart "Fael," he choked, an unexpected tear running down his cheek and onto the sleeping face.

Legolas guided him to the chair and he sat back, unable to move his eyes from his son. He carefully touched the unbelievable softness of his cheek. "Oh, I wish Frodo were awake to see you," Sam murmured. "He loves you so much, Fael."

Nestadren was smoothing a clean nightshirt over Frodo's head and gently covering him back with clean blankets. "Why don't we leave you three alone?" he suggested as he straightened and Legolas agreed.

Sam looked up in panic. "Alone? But..." He looked at Frodo, sleeping peacefully on the bed.

"Frodo is fine, Sam," Nestadren assured him. "He'll sleep until dawn at least, and when he awakes give him a spoonful of the tonic." He nodded at the blue bottle on the table.

"But, the baby?" Sam said weakly. "What do I do now?"

Nestadren laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. "We're not abandoning you entirely, Sam. I'm still just down the hall. Fael and Frodo will both sleep, and neither will be ready to feed for a few hours yet. Why don't you lay down with your family and get some rest too?"

Still nervous Sam nodded. Legolas crouched down in front of him, smile radiant, eyes shining.

"Thank you for letting me be a part of this, Sam," he said huskily. He leaned over and laid a gentle kiss on Fael's forehead.

"Thank you," Sam said fervently. "Thank you both for everything!"

"Remember," Nestadren said. "I'll be just down the hall if you need me." He smiled at Sam and the baby, his eyes tender. "Congratulations, Sam."

The door closed behind him with a very final click and Sam sat anxiously for a moment, feeling very abandoned. But then the baby stirred in his arms, one tiny arm lifting out of the covers, impossibly small pink fingers flexing and he couldn't help the chuckle that bubbled out of him. He leaned over and kissed the soft pink fingers, then softly closed his lips on them, learning the taste and feel of them. "Fael," he murmured again, just for the pleasure of saying his son's name.

He carried Fael back to the bed and gently laid him down next to Frodo, then lay down on his side, one hand resting on the dozing babe. The only thing that could make this moment more perfect was to see Frodo's face, to share their son's first hours with his love. But Frodo needed his rest now, and Sam was content to lean his head on his hand and lay there as the night moved on and dawn approached, lighting the sky outside the window. It was a delight just watching the two people he loved most in the world sleeping. There was also a wild relief in the the knowledge that the worst was behind them now. Frodo had survived the birth.

Sam allowed himself a few grateful tears in those hours, but they dried up quickly enough. His heart was too full of joy for tears today.

Fael's birthday.

It was Fael waking that roused Frodo from his slumber, and as thin wails broke the quiet morning Frodo's long lashes stirred and his hands rose to his belly. He pressed the soft mass and snuffled and snorted awake, confusion in his eyes.

"Mornin'," Sam said huskily, and Frodo turned his head and met Sam's eyes, then dropped his gaze to the howling infant between them.

"Sam?" His shaking hand reached out and Sam lifted Fael and laid him on Frodo's chest again, so he wouldn't have to move. "Oh, Sam," Frodo said tearfully, his hand touching Fael's cheek. Instantly the baby's cries faded and he opened his eyes, peering up into the world.

"His eyes are blue," Sam exclaimed.

Frodo stroked the soft cheek and Fael's mouth opened and searched for the finger, closing over the end and sucking a little.

"That's your son all right," Sam joked through his tears and Frodo smiled.

"Sorry, Fael," he murmured. "I gave you life but I have no milk to feed you with."

The baby didn't seem to mind, his eyes drifted closed and he nursed contentedly for a minute on the tip of Frodo's finger before falling back to sleep.

Sam reached out and parted the swaddling, touching his son's tiny hands with wonder. "Look, Frodo, look at his little nails."

"And his toes," Frodo agreed weakly. "Where did these golden curls come from?"

"Elf magic?" Sam suggested, touching the fine downy hair on his son's feet reverently.

Frodo's eyes drifted closed. "I'm so tired, Sam, but all I want to do is hold him."

"You'll be holding him for the rest of his life," Sam assured him. "And until you're well we'll not stir from your side, love." He lifted Fael from Frodo's arms and lay him on the bed, before fetching the bottle of tonic. "More elf magic," he said, pouring a spoonful with steady hands. Frodo obediently swallowed, and almost instantly his cheeks took on a little more colour.

"That's good," he murmured, and now his arms had a little more strength as he held them out for their son. Sam laid him on Frodo's chest again, heart full to bursting as he watched Frodo's fingers stroking the soft skin, counting the fingers and toes, lifting one tiny foot and laying a kiss on the pink underside.

"I love you," Frodo whispered, and Sam wrapped his arms around his whole world and hugged them to his heart.

888

Nestadren entered the room quietly, carrying a basket and smiling to see Frodo awake. "You look wonderful," he said gently. "Sam, can you take the baby for a moment, I just want to check all's healing as it should. You might want to take a look in the basket while I do."

Frodo kissed the baby tenderly and Sam lifted him away and hovered anxiously, his heart in his mouth.

Nestadren lifted the covers aside and drew the nightshirt up, careful fingers touching around the edges of the red seam. It looked sore, Sam thought, but not angry or infected. Mostly it looked sealed tight, almost as if it had never opened to let forth the bright new life he held in his arms. It was amazing.

"Perfect!" Nestadren pronounced. "Make sure you take a spoonful of the tonic every time you awake, it will help restore your strength."

"It already has," Frodo agreed, although his voice was still low and weary. He touched the elf's fine hand as it drew the covers to his chest. "Thank you," he murmured, and Sam swallowed at the joy in his tired eyes.

Nestadren squeezed his fingers for a moment, returning the smile.

"Now, what's in that basket, Sam?" Frodo asked, yawning. "I can feel myself falling asleep again, and I want my curiosity satisfied before I do."

Sam cradled Fael and drew back the cloth over the basket, revealing glass bottles and rubber teats. He picked up a green glass bottle and held it up. "For a hungry babe," he said to Frodo. "You'd think that elven spell would have thought of a way for you to feed him too, wouldn't you?"

"Bite your tongue," Frodo scolded, eye lashes fluttering. "Good elven glass bottles will do just as well," he slurred, and with a final twitch he dropped back to sleep.

"And milk," Nestadren supplied softly, indicating the ceramic bottle in the bottom of the basket. "It's still quite warm, which will be better for his stomach. Do you know what to do?"

"Well," Sam said thoughtfully. "Getting the milk into the bottle I can manage, and getting the teat on the bottle looks easy. But after that," he confessed. "I'm a bit lost." He shrugged. "I suppose we should have spent the last months finding out this kind of thing, shouldn't we?"

"That's why I'm here," Nestadren said comfortingly. "And you'll be amazed at how much of it is common sense." He sat Sam down and showed him how to measure the milk, and how to test it to make sure it was warm enough for baby but not too warm. Sam puffed out a breath as the filled bottle was pressed into his free hand.

"That's not so bad," he said gratefully. He tilted the bottle and pressed the teat to Fael's lips, stroking a smear of milk over them.

"Sometimes newborns can be fussy eaters," Nestadren warned him. "It can take a while before they..."

He broke off as Fael opened his mouth, engulfed the teat and began to suck lustily.

"Never mind," he finished.

Fael was undisturbed as his father chuckled, his chest shaking with joyful laughter. "That's my lad," he said proudly.

"Hobbits," Nestadren said, shaking his head fondly.

888

Frodo slept on and off, but each time he awoke he took another spoonful of tonic and his strength returned. Sam dozed himself now and then, curled up on the bed with the baby between them. By evening Frodo was ready to sit up a little, and after anxiously consulting Nestadren Sam helped shift him to rest against the carved headboard and a pile of pillows.

Then he lifted Fael back out of the makeshift cradle he had constructed out of the basket Nestadren had bought the milk in. "You'd think we hadn't had nearly nine months to prepare for his arrival," Sam said, as he shifted the precious bundle to Frodo's eager arms.

"He doesn't care where he sleeps," Frodo dismissed, eyes devouring the baby. "Oh, Sam, I never expected it to be like this! I can feel him, all the way to my heart. Do you feel this too?" He lifted entranced eyes to Sam's. "Is this the way you've always felt for him?"

"I didn't think I could love him any more than when he was inside you," Sam revealed huskily. "Then I held him in my arms..."

"Yes," Frodo agreed, gently lifting Fael up and holding him against his shoulder. The golden head snuffled into the skin of his neck for a moment and then he lay content against Frodo's heartbeat. "He's so small, Sam. It's almost frightening how small he is."

"He'll grow quick enough, the way he eats," Sam smirked, stroking the baby's back tenderly.

There was a trace of regret in Frodo's eyes as he cuddled Fael close. "Oh, I've missed his feeds."

"You needed the rest." Sam touched his hand apologetically. "But he'll be hungry again soon, according to what Nestadren was tellin' me, so you'll get a chance to see him eat. In fact you'll probably get tired of it right quick."

"Never," Frodo denied firmly. "I'll never get tired of what this little one does." He kissed a downy cheek and breathed in the new baby smell with pleasure. "All the things I was worried about," he said wonderingly. "All the things I thought so important. And now there's just him and you." He looked up at Sam, his heart in his eyes. "You two are all that matter."

Sam thought if he smiled any wider his cheeks might crease permanently. He leaned down and laid his forehead to his love's, and they closed their eyes and enjoyed the sweet precious moments together as a family.

888

"Any room for visitors in here?" Bilbo peeked around the door, supported on Gandalf's strong arm.

"Bilbo!" Frodo exclaimed joyfully.

"My dear boy," Bilbo said, tears in his eyes. "You're very pale, lad, but you look fine, just fine. You know you've worried your old uncle terribly."

"We knew you could do it, Frodo," Gandalf assured him with a twinkle, sitting Bilbo down by the bed.

The old hobbit reached out and laid a hand on Frodo's arm, gripping it lovingly. "We won't stay long," he said thickly. "But I just had to see with my own eyes that you were all right."

"I'm glad you came, uncle," Frodo said gladly. He looked up at Sam who nodded and gathered Fael up carefully. "Look, Bilbo. Look at our son."

Sam lowered him into trembling arms and Bilbo received him nervously, his eyes damp. "Oh my," he whispered. "There's a sight."

Frodo smiled proudly, reaching out a hand, which Sam grasped firmly and squeezed.

"That's a Baggins face and no mistake, eh, Gandalf?" Bilbo bragged, touching a soft hand with his finger. Fael grasped it and the old hobbit chuckled and sniffed. "Quite a grip on him too."

Gandalf reached over his friend's shoulder and touched gentle fingers to Fael's smooth brow. "He's fine, Bilbo," he agreed. "Quite the handsomest hobbit I've ever seen."

"Handsome?" Bilbo scoffed. "Of course he's handsome, that goes without saying. But look at the intelligence shining in those eyes, Gandalf!"

"Yes, he's very like Sam," Gandalf agreed thoughtfully.

"Sam?" Bilbo exclaimed, and then he caught himself and coughed. "Well, yes, now that you mention it."

Sam chuckled and Frodo raised his eyes indignantly. "I should say so," he huffed. "He's the image of Sam!"

"Well, I wouldn't say that," Sam protested through his laughter while Gandalf chuckled heartily.

"There's altogether too much merriment in here for my liking!" Nestadren said firmly, coming in through the door. "Frodo needs his rest, and that babe too."

"We only popped in for a moment," Bilbo protested, letting Sam lift the baby out of his arms.

"I'm fine," Frodo insisted.

"Lay down for an hour," the healer ordered sternly. "If you want to be awake to feed your son."

After that Frodo submitted meekly as Sam helped him back down, and within moments he was asleep again.

"I could do with a rest myself," Bilbo murmured as he leaned on Gandalf's arm. He stopped by Sam and patted him awkwardly on the shoulder. "You're a good lad, Samwise," he praised. "And I'm trusting you with my Frodo and his lad now." He smiled, his old eyes bright. "I think they're in good hands."

"Thank you," Sam stammered, taken a little by surprise. Gandalf winked at him on the way out and Sam raised his eyebrows back at him.

He couldn't wait to tell Frodo.

888

It was Gimli and Legolas who delivered more warm milk and they stayed to bend over the baby on Frodo's lap.

"Now that's a bonny babe," Gimli pronounced, his eyes moist.

"Worthy of his name," Legolas agreed, reaching out one long finger to stroke over Fael's cheek. Instantly the rosebud mouth pursed, sucking eagerly and the elf chuckled, shaking his head.

"Don't say it," Frodo warned, smiling joyfully, his skin still a shade pale.

"Well, he is a hobbit after all," Gimli allowed. He touched one blunt finger to the downy golden curls just visible on Fael's pink feet. The baby lay hobbit fashion, knees lifted to his chest, ankles crossed. His hands were together on his chest, fingers exploring each other curiously. Wide eyes opened and he peered up at Frodo.

"Will those eyes stay blue?" Legolas wondered.

"I hope so," Sam said from the table, holding the glass bottle to his skin. "We should try to feed him this while it's warm," he suggested and Legolas stood regretfully.

"Look who's the expert now!" Frodo said to Fael, who blinked wide unfocused eyes up at him.

"It's mostly just common sense," Sam dismissed airily.

"We'll leave you to it then," Legolas said.

Gimli looked disappointed but stood also. He murmured something in dwarvish and Legolas nodded and added something himself in elvish.

"What's that?" Sam asked curiously, bottle in one hand, towel in the other.

"Blessings," Frodo said respectfully. "Thank you." He inclined his head and the two friends returned the formal gesture, and then broke into smiles before they left.

"We're awful lucky," Sam said, sitting next to Frodo and handing him the bottle.

"In more ways than I can count," Frodo agreed, feeling the temperature of the bottle against his own skin curiously. "Is this right?"

"Nestadren said it should be blood hot," Sam confirmed. "Cold might give him a belly ache."

Frodo tilted the bottle and Sam hovered anxiously.

"Don't tip it too far,' he advised. "And give him a minute and then take it away so's he can catch his breath. And you might want to-"

Sam," Frodo said patiently. "I managed to carry him and give birth to him. I think I can figure out how to feed him."

Sam subsided, ears red and Frodo chuckled and patted his hand. "You're really enjoying this, aren't you? Now you've got two of us to look after."

"I been looking after two of you for months," Sam retorted, still blushing.

888

It was the middle of the night and Sam stirred awake at the baby's thin wail, unsticking tired eyes. Frodo stirred and Sam patted his back. "Go to sleep, love," he yawned, pulling back the cover and shivering in the cool night air. Nestadren was there laying out a bottle and the milk and Sam smiled gratefully at how well they were being taken care of.

He bent over and lifted Fael from his basket, crooning and kissing a pink cheek.

"What's all this fuss about then, my sunshine?" he said softly. "Hungry belly? You'll wake your Dad-Frodo with all that noise." He accepted the bottle and sat back, touching the teat to Fael's mouth and smiling as always at the eager way he took it, the pink flush that suffused his cheeks as he drank.

"You should get some sleep, Sam," Nestadren told him. "I can manage this feed."

"I wouldn't sleep while he's awake anyway." Sam pulled the teat back to give the baby a break, lifting him over one broad hand and rubbing his back gently. The small circle of the lamp's light made a quiet little well of peace in the still night.

"Nestadren? When will he be old enough for the journey home?"

"A few weeks, Sam, if he goes on the way he is now. He's strong enough, if you take the journey in easy stages." He reached out and stroked one downy foot and Fael kicked his legs robustly.

"And Frodo?"

They both looked at the peacefully sleeping figure on the bed.

"The same. He's healing well, Sam, truly. The two of you must be longing for home after all this time."

"Aye," Sam agreed, smiling down at Fael's intensely concentrated little face. "Don't get me wrong," he added hastily. "The folks here have been nothin' but kind to us, and it's a fine place to live I'm sure."

"But it's not home," Nestadren finished.

"No," Sam chuckled. "But you know it's more than missin' the Shire. I want to show it off to our lad, even though he's a long way from understandin' it's his home. And I want to show our lad off to the Shire, although it sounds odd to say it."

"No, it doesn't," Nestadren said, understanding in his eyes. "He's your son and you're proud of him. Why shouldn't you want to show him off to your friends and family?"

Sam smiled, feeling a bit shy. "Well, I'd like to put him in my old gaffer's arms," he confided. "Even though I can't really say much about where he's come from..."

"Tell him Fael is your son, Sam," Nestadren advised. "That's all he'll need to know to love him."

"D'you think?" Sam asked anxiously. His family had been much on his mind lately, especially his old dad.

"How could your father not love your son?"

Sam lifted the bottle away as Fael finished it, and again lifted him and rubbed his small back. "Did you never have children?" he asked curiously.

Nestadren shook his head. "I was never so blessed."

Sam studied the sober face and then sudden realisation hit him. "That was it, wasn't it?" he blurted out. "That was the oath you had to take, the price you had to pay." He realised at once that he had gone too far, and he could have bitten his tongue when the saw how still the healer's face went. "I'm sorry!" he cried.

"It's all right, Sam." Nestadren smiled gently, his face pale. "Yes, that was the price. The bloodline of the elves seemed to concern them greatly. They seemed to think I would... taint it."

"I remember," Sam said with a shiver, lifting Fael and cuddling him close against his shoulder. Feeling the little warm body against his own the horror of the brothers intentions came washing back over him. "It was a wicked thing to ask of you." Tears pricked his eyes for his friend's sake.

"It was a long time ago, Sam," Nestadren reassured him. "It is an old pain now."

Sam buried his face in Fael's downy curls, his face still wet.

"Dear, Sam," Nestadren said tenderly. "Thank you for your tears on my behalf, but you and Frodo have already eased my pain. Helping you create that wonder you hold next to your heart has been the joy of my life. I almost feel as if..."

"He's as much yours as ours," Sam cried sincerely. "He wouldn't be here against my heart if not for you. Despite their wicked oaths and acts, those brothers have not won."

"They lost long ago, Sam, if ever this was a battle. But now is not the time to speak of the past, not when you hold the future in your arms. I will make a new oath to you now, Sam, and repeat it to Frodo when he awakens. No matter what happens, Fael will always have a friend in me. So long as I live, he will never be alone in this world."

Sam couldn't speak for the joy and pride in his heart, even if he had been able to find words. Nestadren seemed to understand, he touched his shoulder lightly and left the room.

"Yes, my boy," Sam whispered huskily to Fael's contented face. "We're awful lucky."

888

Frodo's strength returned, and for Sam, looking back later, those days were a haze of sleep and joyful awakenings. Of learning their son together, delighting in his every aspect. Friends came and went, Legolas and Gimli often delivering the four hourly feeds and stopping to visit. One of Sam's cherished memories was of the often taciturn Gimli, cooing in delight over Fael's strength as the baby hobbit grabbed his finger and would not let go.

Sam also knew he would forever remember the sight of the Lord of Rivendell lifting Fael up to his great height and gazing into his wide eyes. Needless to say none of them would ever forget one of the greatest of all elves gravely studying the baby sick down the front of his shirt.

A week after the birth Frodo was ready to stand, and Sam and Nestadren were there on each side of him to grip his arms and help him up. His legs were weak after so long in bed and he closed his eyes as he stood swaying.

"The world's spinning!" he exclaimed.

"That's enough for the moment" Nestadren ordered and they sat him back on the bed.

"I wanted to walk," Frodo said, disappointment on his face.

"Give yourself a minute to catch your breath," the healer counselled.

"I hate feeling so feeble!" Frodo exclaimed frustratedly. "I want to walk outside, and take Fael into the sunshine!"

"He's enjoying the sunshine by the window just fine," Sam pointed out firmly. "Give yourself a little time."

"Let me try again," Frodo insisted, and this time he managed to stay up without swaying dizzily. After a moment he took a step, barely supported by Sam and Nestadren. Then he took another and grinned triumphantly.

"Enough," the healer decreed again, but Frodo seemed satisfied and let them tuck him back up.

"I'll be up and about in no time," he said smugly.

"Stubborn hobbit,' Sam chided fondly.

"I just want to sit with Fael in the sunshine," Frodo insisted.

Legolas stood and walked over with the baby cradled against his chest. "The sun would do him good," he agreed. "And it's not too cold out today. Nestad? Couldn't I carry Frodo out?"

Frodo looked hopeful. "Could you?"

Legolas handed Fael to Sam. "As easily as I carry your son," he said simply. "Nestad?"

The healer considered for a few moments. "If they're wrapped up warmly," he finally conceded and Frodo grinned widely.

So the day became an outing, but it was not so simple as gathering up their pair of bundles and carrying them outside. Nestadren insisted they find a sheltered area not too far away and he rushed off to prepare just such a spot. Then Sam started packing a basket with everything they would need for a few hours outside, and this took longer than he thought. By the time all was in place Frodo was almost vibrating with impatience.

But it was all worth it when they stepped out into the wintry sunlight. Legolas carried Frodo easily in his strong arms. Gimli carried the basket, complaining and wondering loudly how such a small baby could need so many things. Sam carried Fael, holding him high on his chest so Frodo could see his first taste of the wintry sunshine.

Fael's wide eyes blinked and he thrust his fists out of the blankets, squirming and kicking in his father's hold.

"I knew he'd love it," Frodo chuckled, peering over Sam's arms.

Nestadren had a place in the sun all picked out, with a warm blanket laid on the grass. Legolas sat Frodo down and he reached up for his son.

"I've missed being outside!" he exclaimed. He smiled down at Fael, who was waving his fists excitedly. "How do you like it, my lad?"

"It is nice to feel the breeze on my face again," Sam said blissfully. "Is Fael wrapped warmly enough d'you think?"

"He's fine," Frodo said patiently. "Why don't you stretch your legs, Sam? You've been cooped up in that room the same as us."

"I feel like a walk amongst the trees," Legolas said invitingly. "Gimli?"

"I'll keep Frodo company, if it's all the same to you," Gimli yawned. "These four hour feedings really take it out of a dwarf."

"Sorry to be working you so hard!" Frodo winked at Sam with a grin. "Go on, Sam, take advantage of it while you can!"

"I could fancy a walk," Sam mused. "We won't go too far."

"Go as far as you like," Frodo said generously. "When we get tired we'll nap here, won't we, sunshine?" Fael expressed his agreement by blowing milky bubbles onto his chin.

"I think Frodo was glad to be rid of me." Sam gently touched the thin branches as he and Legolas walked down the path.

"He's just happy to have that baby all to himself for a while," Legolas disagreed.

"He has missed a few things while he's been getting his strength back." They reached a break in the path and Sam looked out over the gorge with pleasure, shivering a little at the cold mist of spray on his face. "We'll be leaving soon."

"Yes, Gimli and I have business elsewhere too." Legolas glanced down at Sam. "Shall we send your best wishes to Aragorn and Arwen?"

Sam laughed aloud. "I wish I could be a fly on the wall when you tell them our news!"

"Yes, I'm rather looking forward to that myself," Legolas said mischievously. "I've no doubt the King of Gondor will be sending you a new invitation by swift messenger, Sam, when he hears about Fael."

"Oh, no!" Sam said swiftly. "Once we get home nothin' and no one will be draggin' us out of the Shire again."

Legolas clapped him on the shoulder. "We'll see, Sam. We'll see."

888

Sam stayed away an hour, but couldn't bear to be parted from Frodo and Fael for any longer. When he got back to the sunny patch he smiled tenderly to see Frodo curled up around the baby's basket, fast asleep. His smile faded when he saw Frodo's damp cheeks and swollen eyes.

"Bilbo was here," Gimli said softly, standing and patting Sam awkwardly on the back. "I think Frodo will want you nearby when he wakes up, laddie."

"What happened?"

"He asked Bilbo to come back to the Shire. I don't think he was expecting the answer he got."

"Thank you, Gimli," Sam said sadly, understanding what the answer must have been.

Sam sat down by Frodo and laid a comforting hand on his back, rubbing gently.

Frodo stirred, wiping at his cheeks. "Did you enjoy your walk?"

"I'd have enjoyed it more with you," Sam said huskily.

With a wince Frodo turned and let Sam gather him into his lap. "Oh, Sam."

"I'm sorry, love." Sam kissed his soft hair.

"I just thought we could be a family for a while, back at Bag End."

"I know, I thought the same."

"But he said that when he left the Shire he meant never to return. When he makes that journey again, he said, it will be to the Grey Havens."

Sam's throat felt thick. The one nightmare he never told Frodo about was of that sad and lonely place by the sea.

"You know, Bilbo was already old when he took me in. I suppose I should just be grateful that we had as much time together as we did." Frodo sniffed and wiped at his cheeks again. "And at least I get to say good-bye to him this time."

"And this time you won't be alone." Sam stroked his face tenderly. "You'll never be alone again," he vowed.

Frodo tried to smile, but his eyes were still sad when Legolas returned to carry him back.

888

"Sam! Sam, where's the baby? Where's Fael?"

Sam jerked awake at the rough shake to his shoulder. "What?" he muttered thickly, trying to blink the sleep out of his eyes. It was dark in the room and he groped for the lamp and turned the wick up.

"Where's Fael?" Frodo said wildly, both hands on Sam's arm.

"He's here," Sam said hurriedly, reaching for the baby's basket and lifting it from the bedside table. "He's here, sleeping safe."

Frodo reached carefully under Fael's arms and gathered him up, curving him against his chest. He closed his eyes, sighing out in relief. One hand cupped the baby's tiny head tenderly, fingers shaking.

"What is it? Frodo?"

"Just a dream," Frodo breathed out, as if trying to convince himself. "A bad dream."

Understanding ran through him and Sam breathed out his own sigh of relief. He wrapped an arm around Frodo, cuddling him close. "You're still upset about today."

"He was crying and I couldn't find him," Frodo said shakily, lips to Fael's fine golden hair. "I was lost in the dark and looking for him, Sam, lost in the dark with those shadows on our trail."

Sam nodded against Frodo's cheek. He'd had a few nightmares himself since they'd faced the brothers hatred. "They're gone, Frodo. Dead and gone. No more shadows in the night."

"The world is full of shadows and evil, Sam. We should know, we've faced most of them."

"And survived all of them," Sam reminded him firmly.

"He's so small, Sam," Frodo whispered. "I couldn't bear it if anything happened to him. I couldn't bear it."

"Nothin' will." Sam shaped his hand around Frodo's and together they lay Fael back in their arms. He slept deeply, belly still full, rosebud lips pursing and sucking. "Look at him, love. Elven magic and golden curls aside, he's a hobbit babe, fine and strong. And he'll grow up that way, just as we did, back in the finest place in the world."

"Home," Frodo said longingly.

Sam hugged him close again, their hands still connected, still cradling their son. "He's going to have the best time! Running with his friends in the fields! Ruining his clothes and scabbing his knees."

Frodo huffed a quiet chuckle.

"Wading in the little streams, bringing home buckets of tadpoles and mud," Sam continued, smiling at memories from long ago.

"Climbing trees and hunting mushrooms."

"Learning to tell the weeds from the seedlings, pulling them from the earth with his little hands."

"Your big hands over his, guiding them." Frodo stroked Sam's fingers and lifted Fael to his chest again. "Yes, Sam, you're right. Remember what you said once, about what we were holding onto? The hope that there's some good left in this world?"

"Aye," Sam smiled, wondering a little at how even that painful memory seemed bearable now.

"This is our hope, Sam, this is our future." Frodo looked down at their son and then back up at Sam, his heart in his eyes. "This is what we fought for."

"Aye," Sam said again.

888

"Ah, Sam. I was wondering if I'd see you today." Bilbo greeted him from his chair. He was alone in the warm pavilion, a cozy blanket tucked around his lap.

"Was you?" Sam clenched his fingers in front of him, trying to gather the words together in his head.

"How's Frodo?"

"I left him sleeping," Sam said, knowing this wasn't what the old hobbit meant.

"I know he was disappointed that I'm not coming back to Bag End-"

"I want you to change your mind," Sam interrupted. He flushed a little at the quizzical look Bilbo sent him, but continued on doggedly. "I mean I'm askin' that you change your mind, and come back with us."

"Sam," Bilbo sighed. "When I left the Shire I meant never to return. I'm sticking to that."

"Why?" Sam said fiercely. "It's your home too, isn't it? Why's it too much to ask that you spend some time back there before you sail away forever?"

"It's not my home any more," Bilbo said quietly but firmly. "It's your home now, yours and your family's. There's no place for an old hobbit in the middle of that."

Sam gathered his courage and asked something that had been on his mind for some time. "Is it because of me? Because of Frodo and me bein' together?"

Bilbo looked down at his hands in his lap, old fingers smoothing the fine wool absently. "And if I said it was?"

"That's fair enough," Sam managed, his throat tight. "I can't be exactly what you had in mind for your heir. Nor my child being his heir for that matter."

Bilbo looked up now, meeting his gaze evenly. "As it happens, Sam, that's not what's on my mind. Seeing Frodo happy, seeing him with his son... Well how could I not be grateful to whoever and whatever brought that about? It's more than I hoped for in this world, after all he's been through."

"It's what he's been through that's on my mind, Mr. Bilbo!" Sam said urgently. "His body's healed, yes, but you don't know what it was like for him, no one knows really, not even me. Not all of it. His heart still hurts him at times, sir, his heart gets so sad. And he worries about things, he worries for Fael and me and.. and.. shadows in the night."

"Yes," Bilbo said, his eyes lost for a moment. "I suppose he must."

"So what I'm gettin' at here is that he wants his family around him. All his family. And I want for him to have what he wants and needs." Sam bit his lip nervously but plunged ahead. "And I reckon you owe him."

Bilbo's stared at him, arrested. "You do, do you?"

"I reckon," Sam continued staunchly. "You left him once, to do what you wanted, and left him a pretty pickle as it happens. I don't think it's too much to ask now that you don't leave him again."

"Well, well, whoever would have thought it," Bilbo mused to himself. "That I would be taken to task by old Ham Gamgee's lad?"

Sam pulled his shoulders back and lifted his chin. "I am Ham Gamgee's lad," he said proudly. "I reckon I always will be, no matter how old I get. But I have a lad of my own now, and I know my responsibility to him. I'll be there for him for the rest of his life. Frodo's your lad, isn't he?"

Bilbo just stared at him for long moments, but Sam did not look away.

"I'm old, Samwise," Bilbo finally said. "I was never old in the Shire. Eleventy-one years old and I still walked two miles a day and I could hold my ale! I didn't want to go back now so feeble and worn."

Sam relaxed just a little and dropped down into a chair opposite. "You're not some old gaffer what has to be led around, Mr. Bilbo!" he exclaimed. "You've earned every one of them grey hairs and every line. And just think how it will be for folks to see you again. Why, they've had you dead and buried for years! Think on their faces when Bilbo Baggins returns to Bag End!"

Bilbo reflected on this for a moment, then chuckled maliciously. "That could be fun." His gaze sharpened on Sam. "You're a clever one," he said archly. "And don't think I don't know I'm being played like a fish."

Sam tried to look innocent.

"But if you think there's room in your cozy little nest for an old badger like me, well then, I suppose I could travel on to the Shire with you when you go."

Sam grinned happily.

"But for the record it's more of a visit! On my way to the Havens, so to speak."

"Thank you," Sam said gratefully.

"I'll tell Frodo." Bilbo let Sam help him to his feet and steadied himself for a moment, looking shrewdly into Sam's face. "A Gamgee and a Baggins, eh?" he mused. "Maybe it isn't what I had in mind, if I'd thought about it. But it's not such a bad combination, is it?"

"We've done all right so far," Sam said, a little smugly.

888

Sam waited outside, wanting the cousins to have some private time together. When he heard Frodo's happy laughter from within he finally relaxed completely and peered in the door.

"Sounds like a party in here!"

"Sam!" Frodo cried joyfully. "Bilbo's changed his mind! He's coming back to Bag End with us!"

"That's if there's room for me there, Samwise," Bilbo said innocently.

"Always room for one more," Sam said generously, standing behind Frodo in his seat by the window and laying a fond hand on his shoulder. Frodo reached up and pressed it, his eyes sparkling.

Frodo touched Fael's pointed little chin with a loving finger. "Hear that, Fael? Your Great Uncle is coming home with us."

"For a visit," Bilbo reminded him firmly. "On my way to the Havens."

"I'm just glad you changed your mind," Frodo said sincerely. "I was dreading saying our final good byes to everyone at once."

"Not final," Sam protested. "We'll see Legolas and Gimli and Nestadren again, and Gandalf too, I'm sure."

"This world is full of surprises," Bilbo agreed. Then he yawned. "Oh dear, I've worn myself out with all this emotion. Sam, see an old hobbit back to his room?"

Sam helped him up and lead him to the door, pausing while Bilbo fussed with his shawl.

"Sam?" Frodo said quietly. Sam tilted his head. "Thank you," Frodo mouthed silently, and Sam dropped a wink and saw the old hobbit home.

888

Their parting from Rivendell was bitter sweet. Elves whose names they didn't even know dropped by to give them good wishes, and shyly generous, showered upon the hobbits many fine gifts. Some, Gandalf told them quietly, were heirlooms, owned by elven babies far back in time. Sam and Frodo received them solemnly and gratefully, saddened by the idea that for many of the elves, there were no more babies.

"I'm sorry we didn't get to know more of them better now," Sam said regretfully, touching the precious gifts respectfully.

"We were just so wrapped up in our own world," Frodo agreed.

"And the folk of Imladris knew this was a difficult time for you," Gandalf confided. "They were keeping their distance."

"Not a difficult time, Gandalf," Frodo denied. "It wasn't that at all."

"What would you call it then?" the old wizard wondered. "I might not have been here for all of it, but I've heard enough from our friends to know things weren't always easy for you." He raised a white brow. "Either of you."

Sam and Frodo exchanged glances, wondering how to put it into words. Yes, there had been difficult times, if they were honest. It could never be an easy thing, giving up a part of yourself to someone else, even if it was someone you loved more than your own life. But looking back now Sam knew there was nothing about their time together he would change, not one thing.

And looking into Frodo's eyes he saw exactly the same thing.

"Well, maybe that knife to the throat," he allowed, raising a hand to the thin pink scar.

"And possibly I would have eaten fewer buttered scones," Frodo added, touching his own hand ruefully to his still soft belly.

Gandalf shook with laughter. "And that's it?" he demanded. "No other regrets? Nothing you would change?"

The hobbits exchanged another glance, then looked at Gandalf and shrugged.

"I think it's like giving birth," Frodo said thoughtfully. "I quite dreaded it, and going through it was not something I'd care to repeat."

Sam nodded fervently.

"But once it was over, once they put him in my arms, well, all the bad bits didn't matter any more."

"It was all worth it."

888

February 1421 S.R.

Legolas and Gimli rode east on the tenth day of the month, promising to deliver their messages and letters to all their friends on the way. It was with lighter spirits than the last time that Sam and Frodo saw them off. The world seemed much smaller than it did, in a way, and they knew in their hearts that they would all meet again.

Nestadren rode with the dwarf and the elf, heading back to his eastern home himself.

"He's grown so much in just these short weeks," the healer observed wistfully, holding the baby close as they said their goodbyes. "I wonder how much he'll grow before I see him again?"

"You know you've always a welcome at Bag End," Sam reminded him tearfully.

"And a home too, if you want it." Frodo touched Nestadren's hand and the healer crouched low, letting the hobbit wrap his arms around him. He curved his free arm around Frodo's back and returned the hug, his old-young face flushed with pleasure.

Then he handed the baby to Sam and laid a warm hand on his shoulder.

"Thank you, my friends," he said softly. And then they were away.

On the twelfth day they gathered by the gates of Rivendell, a party of elves and four hobbits. Many goodbyes were being said, as the elves they were traveling with were continuing on, into the west. Sam studied the faces around him curiously. There were no tears, indeed, many of the elves who were staying behind had wistful expressions on their faces, as if they too longed to set out on that long road.

"Well, my friends," Gandalf said, smiling at them tenderly. "So it's another goodbye. But not for long this time, we'll see each other again in September when I call in to pick up your uncle."

"Perhaps we'll ride to the Havens with you then, and see you off," Frodo suggested.

Gandalf shot Sam a quick look and smiled reassuringly. "Perhaps."

Sam kept his mouth shut. If he had his way they wouldn't be going anywhere near that sad grey place.

Gandalf saw them onto the cart that would carry three of the hobbits on the journey and waved his hand. "Blessings be upon you!" he cried, and Sam and Frodo and Bilbo all raised their hands and waved, as the carts and the horses moved slowly away, a soft poignant song of the elves beginning. Pennants fluttered in the breeze and from behind them they could hear another song floating back to them, also poignant, but still somewhat hopeful.

Sam rode his pony close to the cart, glad to see that Frodo wasn't weeping at the goodbye. Bilbo was leaning comfortably back on his wide cushion and Fael's basket was between them, the baby fast asleep. Frodo checked that they were both fine, gave a smile to Sam, and then turned and looked west.

Towards home.

888

March 1421 S.R.

They were only days from the Shire, and Sam felt as if he could smell home in the air. When they made camp he almost complained at how early it was. Surely they could ride another few hours? Get that much closer to home?

But Frodo's face as he climbed down from the cart was drawn and weary, and Sam bit back his impatience. They had waited this long, they could wait a few days more. They left Bilbo asleep in the cart while they set up their camp.

"Don't stretch up like that," Sam warned as Frodo reached for the basket.

"I'm quite capable of lifting it, Sam," he said in exasperation. "Remember what Nestadren said? I'm all healed."

"All the same," Sam said, lifting the makeshift cradle and depositing it between them. "No need to take any chances. You've got the rest of your life to fetch and carry." He stood with his back to the fire, enjoying the long stretch, and being on his feet after the day's riding. Frodo leaned over and jiggled the basket a little, chuckling as small hands waved their delight.

"He's taking the whole journey in stride," Frodo observed.

"So long as his milk shows up on time, he wouldn't care where he was," Sam scoffed.

There was a call from the edge of camp and Frodo and Sam peered out into the sunset, hands shading their eyes.

There ahead of them were two figures on ponies, hands raised in joyful greeting.

"Frodo! Sam!" They called and Sam grinned in delight to see Merry and Pippin cantering towards them.

"What are you two doing out here?" Frodo exclaimed as they jumped from their ponies and rushed to embrace him. Merry slapped him on the back and Pippin grabbed Sam's hand and wrung it joyfully.

"Oh, you wicked hobbits," he chided, tears of joy in his eyes. "How could you stay away for so long? Merry and I were about to ride off and find you, when the letter from Gandalf arrived."

"A letter?" Sam said curiously, still winded from Merry's enthusiastic greeting. "What letter?"

"Telling us to ride out and meet you here on the road back to the Shire," Pip informed them, tethering their ponies loosely, patting his on its soft noise.

"Delivered by an elf, if you please," Merry exclaimed, taking in their camp with its airy tents being set up, its wide cooking fires being stoked. "Not surprising when I see how cozy you've become with elfkind. You look right at home!"

"We should," Sam informed him. "Since that's where we've been all this time."

"Well, it seems to have done you good," Pippin said joyfully, considering their flushed and rosy faces. "You look so well!"

"And I hope you're back for good this time," Merry said severely. "We never expected you to be gone for a whole year! Honestly." He shook his head in exasperation. "And they call us the travellers!"

A small cooing sound distracted them all and Pippin leaned over the basket and then started back in surprise. "Merry!" he exclaimed. "There's a baby in here! A hobbit baby!"

Merry rushed over and peered into the basket, surprise on his face. Sam could hear the cooing bubbles being blown and knew Fael would be making big blue eyes at his admirers as he always did.

"A babe!" Merry repeated. He looked up and stared at his two friends. "Where on earth did it come from?"

And Sam and Frodo sat Merry and Pippin down to explain to their friends where hobbit babies come from. Or at least where their particular hobbit baby had come from.

Sam wisely bought ale.

888

On March 13th they rode back over the Brandywine bridge and into the Shire. They were so happy they quite forgot it was an anniversary of sorts. When they remembered later they just smiled and agreed that some anniversaries should be forgotten.

The Traveler family had returned to Bag End.

They were home.

The End.