Frodo smiled. Gratefully he accepted the velvety fruit and slowly ate it, tasting its sweet and juicy pulp.
“Well, maybe we’d better get back to work, Mr. Frodo” said Sam, collecting the plates and mugs from their breakfast.
“Yes, Sam. You go now, I’d like to stay here some more, before returning to the books.”
“Aye, Mr. Frodo.”
Frodo didn’t avert his eyes from the gardener, until he disappeared around the corner.
* * *
Next day, Frodo was sitting with Bilbo at his study desk, writing down the translations as his old uncle dictated. It was a very hot afternoon, and the scent of flowers coming from outside the window was inebriating.
But more inebriating was, for Frodo, the sight of Sam pulling his shirt out of his trousers, unbuttoning it and letting it open, in an attempt to cool his sweaty skin.
Frodo had seen him shirtless many times before, when Sam was younger, but now it was totally different. Now Frodo was admiring a full grown and handsome hobbit, all firm muscles, sturdy chest, broad shoulders and rounded stomach. The perfection by hobbit standards.
“Are you listening to me, Frodo?” Bilbo’s voice suddenly startled him from his reverie.
“Oh, ehm, I’m sorry Bilbo, I was distracted.”
Bilbo shook his head. “Dear lad, you haven’t written a word of what I’ve just translated. I’ll never understand where your mind goes sometimes, it really seems to fly away …”
“Sorry Bilbo, it’s so hot today. Can you repeat the last sentences so I can write down them for you?”
Both hobbits then concentrated on their work for several hours, until it was time for dinner.
Bilbo had a real skill in cooking, due to his long years as a bachelor, so the task of preparing food was always on him, although sometimes Sam stayed longer at Bag End to prepare dinner for his two masters.
But Sam was already at home that evening. While Bilbo was in the kitchen, Frodo went out in the garden for a smoke and a bit of the fresh evening air, and after a whole day spent between the walls of the smial he was finally able to concentrate on his own thoughts.
How had he come to start having these feelings for Sam? He had never fancied anyone before, nor had he paid attention to his cousin Pearl, who had showed interest in him during his last days in Buckland.
Lately, he had realized that Sam was not only amiable and charming as a person, but beautiful as well. Frodo could not avert his eyes from his gardener at work, and often, during the past few days, he had found himself staring at Sam, while the younger hobbit was gracefully moving between seedlings and plants, sweat on his brow, whistling cheerfully.
And, when Sam was not around, the older hobbit could not stop thinking about his golden hair and his sweet, deep amber eyes, his warm smile and his sturdy body.
And, above all, Sam’s hands, so strong when he worked with the shovel or lifted heavy loads, and yet so incredibly gentle when he tended the tiniest buds.
How would it feel, Frodo thought, to taste that delicious mouth and have those skilled hands on his skin? But he knew he had to stop his mind from spinning. He knew Sam was in love with Rosie.
The thought of Sam kissing Rosie made Frodo’s stomach tighten ..
It was all wrong, he knew that, but how could he concentrate on other things, when his whole body and heart seemed to have a mind of their own?
