Overwhelmed by embarrassment, he turned his back to the younger hobbit and started walking, at a very quick pace, towards Bag End.
Frodo was near the front gate of his smial when a pair of strong arms reached from behind and encircled him around his waist, holding him tight. For some seconds, everything was silent and still, as if the world had crystallized.
Then the soft voice of Sam, almost a whisper in his ear, came.
“It’s so hard to forgive you, Mr. Frodo …” He paused. “In fact it doesn’t fit well for a gentlehobbit like you …” Another pause. “Turning away and leaving me there … without kissing me properly!”
Frodo stopped breathing. Sam’s mouth was warm and moist upon the curve of his ear.
“No Sam, please, let me go, it was a mistake, I can’t …”
Sam’s strong and gentle hands made Frodo turn and face him. They stared at each other, eyes still filled with tears and desperate need.
It took the briefest of moments for their mouths to meet, their lips caressing, tentatively at first, then daring more, much more.
Frodo’s lips parted under the gentle pressure and he welcomed Sam’s tongue, hot and searching. Moaning with pleasure at the exquisite intrusion, Frodo returned the kiss, loosing every chance of thinking clearly, feeling himself melt into liquid fire.
The two hobbits kissed for a long time, hungrily tasting sweetness and exploring warm, unknown corners: licking, biting, caressing, holding onto each other’s breath as if that was their last chance for survival.
When they finally broke apart they were dizzy and still incredulous, uncertain of what to do or say, their hearts pounding madly.
Frodo smiled, shyly.
“It’s always you, Sam. You always know what to say, when all that I am able to do was run away, refuse my own feelings. You are braver than me, dear Sam.”
“It’s not that I’m brave, Mr. Frodo. It’s just that … I think I love you, Sir, and I can’t deny it any more.” Sam spoke, and his voice trembled.
Frodo felt his heart skip a beat. “I thought you were in love with Rosie!”
“I’ve believed that once, but I was wrong.” Sam was smiling at him, the sweetest smile Frodo had ever seen. “It’s you I’m in love with … and I don’t see how I couldn’t be, because you are the most special hobbit I’ve ever met.”
Frodo caressed Sam’s cheekbone with the back of his fingers. “I love you too, Sam, but I was afraid to show you and that’s the reason I’ve been avoiding you lately. I’ve never felt this way for anyone, but I believed you had Rosie, and I feared you would be embarrassed by me, or disgusted …”
“Never, never me dear. Don’t say that, Mr. Frodo. You are a gift to me, the most precious gift …”
Frodo sighed. “I’m afraid I’ve ruined it all. Maybe if I had spoken to you before … had the courage to tell you the truth … Oh Sam, I’m afraid it’s my fault that your father is sending you away …”
“Shh, nonsense, Mr. Frodo. It’s not your fault. My brother needs my help, that’s all…”
Then Sam pulled Frodo close to him and held his slender frame in a tight embrace. He felt a surge of love for his friend and master, stronger than anything he had experienced before. A joy so pure that it nearly reduced him to tears again.
