Author: Sam

Story: Courting Fire: 1 of 2

Series: n/a

Rating: PG: M/M Relations, Angst: SLASH

Pairings: Frodo / Sam

Summary: A dinner invitation leads to something unexpected.

Notes: This was written on special request by my friend and beta, Sabrina. You know who you are... thank you!

Feedback: Yes, please? Especially constructive. samwise_baggins@yahoo.co.uk

Webpage: http://www.oocities.org/samwise_baggins/index.html

After lighting the candle, Frodo stepped back with a smile. He surveyed his efforts with careful eyes: dark blue cloth on the table with matching napkins, ivory coloured plates, softly shining silverware with ivory handles, and crystal goblets. A small silver container of precious ice sat to the side of the table, a bottle of Old Winyard chilling. The aroma of roast meat with thick sauce, steamed vegetables from the garden, and freshly baked apple pie wafted on the gentle breeze created by the open window. The main lights had been darkened, leaving only the glow of fire and that single candle to light the warm room. Two heavy, ornately engraved chairs with thick cushions sat ready for the dinner for two.

Suddenly, apprehension spread throughout the dark-haired Hobbit's frame. He looked around, critically wondering if perhaps this was too much, too soon. Would it appear odd to his guest? What if his feelings weren't returned? This would look suspicious indeed. And if Frodo's feelings were one-sided, it could frighten his guest away.

Nervously, Frodo put the candle out and glanced towards the front hallway. Now only the fire shed light over the cozy room. It seemed somehow more intimate than when the candle had been lit. That wouldn't do. Any little thing could turn this night into a huge disaster. As the forty-five-year-old Hobbit attempted to re-light the candle with shaking hands, he wondered at his own audacity. How could he have planned such a night? What if he disgusted...

With a shake of his head, Frodo pushed the fearful thoughts away. He could do this. He could go through the night as if nothing was abnormal about his feelings. He could convince himself and his guest that this was simply a dinner for two friends, nothing more. And he would hide his true feelings for the other Hobbit. It wasn't worth the risk... was it?

Frodo got the candle lit and sank into one of the heavy, carved chairs. He balanced his elbows on his knees, face in hands. What had he been thinking of to plan such a thing? There was no way this could be mistaken for an innocent evening of light conversation. It looked exactly as it was: a seduction.

He groaned and, leaning over the set table, he put out the candle once more.

"Mister Frodo?"

The voice right behind him made Frodo jump in fright, clutching his heart and gasping for air. He whirled around and flushed crimson. There was Sam, standing with hat in hand right next to the incriminating wine stand. He looked concerned and confused, glancing briefly over the still intimate setting then back at his employer.

"Mister Frodo? I knocked but you didn't answer. I was that worried I let myself in. Is something..." The gardener looked around again, grey-green eyes taking in the settings for two, the firelight, and the wine. He looked surprised then flushed a bit, nodding. "I see, Mister Frodo."

The gentlehobbit blanched, blue eyes growing larger in his normally pale face. "You... you do, Sam?" He cleared his throat to get rid of the suddenly dry feeling, the odd note.

Sam smiled, nodding, though he had an oddly disappointed look in his eyes. "Oh, of course I do, Mister Frodo. You invited me to dinner but forgot you had another guest supposed to come." He glanced around, eyes lingering on the wine. "One you'd be wanting to entertain alone."

Frodo watched Sam apprehensively. "What?"

"It's all right, Mister Frodo. I'm that flattered you invited me to sit at your table, but I don't mind. You're going courting and having me here would mess things up. Who ever heard of three during courting? I'll go back down home, sir, and leave you to your dinner." Sam was backing out of the room, smiling, though his eyes looked sad.

"No! Sam, I..." Frodo lunged out of his chair, reaching for his servant and best friend.

With a soft sigh and a shake of his strawberry curls, Sam turned his gentle gaze on his master. "Oh, no, Mister Frodo. I'm not offended. You forgot, plain and simple. We'll... we'll do this some other time, of course. I can wait; I'll always be here for you."

The chubby Hobbit shut his mouth quickly, as if suddenly afraid he'd said too much. He slipped his cap on his thick curls and bobbed his head respectfully at the older Hobbit. "Good night, Mister Frodo..." As he spoke, Sam was slipping out the door into the still, summer night.

How did this go so wrong? He hadn't even gotten a chance... Sam shook his head and started heading down the winding steps towards the front gate. What a foolish Hobbit he'd been, after all, thinking an invitation to dinner... Sam didn't see the confusion and disappointment in Frodo's eyes as he made his careful way down those steps. He was too lost in self-doubt and disappointment.

He'd noticed the way Frodo had been watching him since Bilbo's party. The older Hobbit would come to the window or door and simply stare, as if lost in thought, a slight smile on those full lips. At first the observation had made Sam self-conscious. He hadn't been sure why Frodo would want to watch him. He was just a normal, everyday Hobbit working in the garden of his employer's home. But as the months had passed, Sam found his mind turning more and more to the unlikely, and abnormal, thought that Frodo preferred him.

With a blush, Sam sighed. It had been an unsettling idea to begin with. What normal, healthy male Hobbit looked at another male, after all? But the idea wouldn't go away. And, with the slow passing of the seasons, Samwise Gamgee found himself slowly looking back at Frodo.

He would find a time when Frodo seemed unaware of him and turn to let his eyes rove over the too thin Hobbit. Slowly, Sam became aware of just how pretty his master was, just how delicate and attractive. The gardener wanted to drown every time their eyes met. But it wasn't humiliation that gave him that feeling; it was more of a feeling of breathless anticipation. His heart would seem to pause, then speed up, and his hands would start to shake just a bit.

Over those last twelve years Sam had let Frodo look at him and had looked his fill in return.

When Frodo had come out of the door yesterday at tea time, Sam had been working near the windows, trimming the grass right by the Hobbit Hole. He'd been startled, then breathless, watching the slim Hobbit approaching leisurely. When they had been right next to each other, Frodo spoke in a soft, almost breathless sounding voice. Sam had been too stunned by the dinner invitation to really note Frodo's bodily responses, though the younger Hobbit had been aware of his own reactions: he'd been yearning for his friend.

It was embarrassing, of course, being attracted to another male. It was even more embarrassing now he realized that Frodo certainly hadn't been watching him out of interest. He'd most likely been checking on Sam's work and had invited him over to talk about something he wanted changed or improved. Sam had been a fool to think it might mean that Frodo was ready to move to another level in their relationship.

Sam flushed even harder and reached for the gate. As soon as he'd walked into the Hole, he'd realized his mistake. Bag End had been set up for a truly romantic encounter, not a clandestine, forbidden one. Somebody didn't arrange an intimate dinner with a Hobbit of the same sex unless he was very sure that he wasn't going to be rejected. As Sam had never even gotten a tender touch on the arm from his master, it had been sheer foolishness to think Frodo'd been looking for a next step in their non-existent relationship.

It took a moment before Sam realized his friend was calling to him. He had been as lost in thought as Frodo had a few minutes earlier.

"Sam, please? Answer me?" Frodo hurried down the front steps as Sam slowly turned. When his gardener paused, Frodo sighed in relief and stopped in front of him, reaching out a shaking hand to touch his arm. "Sam? Please, I..." he flushed as brightly as Sam, "I don't have anyone else coming over. The... the dinner is for you." His luminous eyes were filled with nervous worry.

"For... me?" Sam blinked grey-green eyes and frowned, puzzled. "But... Mister Frodo... the..." he wasn't able to make a turn-around in his thinking so quickly. Instead, the Hobbit was confused.

With a nod, Frodo tugged Sam's sleeve and guided him back up the steps towards the Hole. "Yes, Sam, for you. Please, come inside and eat? I... I wasn't finished setting up when you arrived..."

Sam let himself be guided, his mind turning over every factor, every layer of this revelation. As they walked inside, Frodo softly closing the door behind them, the younger Hobbit turned to the elder. "Mister Frodo? I don't rightly understand, sir. What would..."

Frodo would have flushed more if he could. "Uh, well... um..." But he fell silent, as did his companion, and they kept walking.

They arrived in the dining room once more and Sam glanced slowly around the room. He walked over to the table, leaving Frodo in the doorway. Hesitantly, Sam reached out to touch one of the crystal goblets then trail a finger across a soft linen napkin. He turned wondering eyes on his friend and employer.

"Mister Frodo? I'm still confused a bit, sir. I..." he paused then rushed ahead, taking the chance. "Sir, this looks as if you're courting, but you say it's for me. Does that mean..." his courage seemed to leave him for the moment, and Sam fell silent.

Frodo paled considerably. A long moment of silence passed between the two as neither looked away from the other. Slowly, Frodo raised a shaking hand to run through his dark curls. His voice was a bare whisper when he answered. "Yes... uh... Yes, Sam. It is set up for courting." Now it would happen; he was sure of it. Sam would recoil in disgust.

The gardener still did not look away, as if he hadn't heard the words. He watched Frodo a very long moment. Finally, Sam turned and approached the table, studying it with intent eyes. He called out softly, "Mister Frodo... smells like that roast is done, sir."

Torn between thankfulness at the valid interruption and nervousness about what Sam might do or say next, the gentle-hobbit hurried into the kitchen. He took out the roast in question and added it to the rolling cart he'd stocked with all of the other food. Frodo wanted to take a long time over the chore, but he was afraid Sam would leave before he could make things better. Thus, he hurried back out, carefully pushing the cart.

Sam remained where Frodo had left him. He was still studying the table. In the darkened room, it was hard to read the expression in those soft soulful eyes. He hadn't bolted, but what was he thinking? What was he going to do?

The younger Hobbit watched as Frodo started putting food on the plates. Normally he would have taken the job over, but he didn't make a move to help. The older Hobbit worried his bottom lip between his teeth wondering if Sam was merely following dictates of etiquette by not taking over the chores as a guest or if he were frozen in disgusted shock. The tension was starting to make Frodo shake, and he nearly slopped gravy over the side of the plate.

When the places were ready, Frodo turned to Sam. In a soft voice, he made a slight choking sound, cleared his throat and tried again. "Uh... Sam? I... I know this is... abnormal for Hobbits. I mean, that... that I'd be... uh... courting you..." He flushed again as Sam's eyes, darkened to an unreadable green, met his. Where had the grace of his tongue gone? He needed it more than ever so that he could at least salvage their friendship, even if he couldn't have Sam as something closer he would still have him as a friend and most important of all, he would not lose him. "But... I... well, I guess I thought these last few years we've been getting closer in a way most males don't get." He wouldn't let Sam interrupt, holding up a hand so he might finish what he was saying before the other Hobbit told him goodbye forever.

"Well, Sam, I can see that it's an idea that kind of grew up in my own head. I'm sorry I misread anything you might've been feeling. I... Sam, I value your friendship. I won't make you uncomfortable. Please? Just... just don't leave for good, Sam?" It had come out all wrong, and Frodo held his breath, waiting for the disgust to come through from his friend.

There was a long pause as Sam studied his master's face, looking for something apparently. Finally, slowly, as if to answer all of Frodo's fears and doubts, he spoke. "Mister Frodo, if we don't sit down the food will get cold." He slid into a seat.

Frodo blinked, then smiled thankfully, glad Sam would treat this as if it were a regular dinner between them. He joined his friend at the table and smiled. "I could light the candles, Sam," he gestured towards the candles in the chandelier overhead. "I put the one out since it seemed too much like... well... seduction." He flushed, especially when Sam's head shot up and he froze, fork at his lips, watching Frodo with an intent, unreadable expression.

Sam put his fork down and moved off without asking, lighting a spill at the fire. He came back to the table where Frodo sat looking confused. As Sam slipped into his seat, Frodo's eyes widened in dawning comprehension. His chest tightened and he felt like he could fly.

Sam lit the candle.