They went to their separate rooms, Merry and Pippin to one, and Sam and Frodo to the other. Frodo changed into his nightshirt and stretched out languidly on the bed. His travels around the Shire on previous investigations had sent him and Sam to other rooms at inns very like this, and he found these overnight stays rather exciting: there was a certain anonymity here, and privacy.
There wasn't much privacy at Bag End lately, not since Sam had married and Rose had moved in with them. The plan of "sharing" he had proposed had worked quite well technically, with Sam spending one night in Rosie's room, and the next in his--but from the first, Frodo had felt somewhat restrained by the knowledge that Rosie was only a few doors away. Even if she couldn't overhear anything--and Sam had chosen a room for his bride far enough from Frodo's to ensure that she didn't--she certainly must have a good idea of what they were up to on the nights she was alone. Frodo had similar thoughts on the nights when Sam slept in his wife's room. And if he was self-conscious at Rosie's proximity, Sam was doubly so.
But, tonight, they were alone.
He turned his head on the pillow to find Sam undressing by the fire and smiled in invitation... but Sam's thoughts seemed to have taken him miles away. All the way back to Bag End, Frodo guessed.
"Don't worry, Sam," he said. "Mrs. Cotton will look after her. She's had four children of her own and knows more about having babies than you or I ever will."
Sam, who was absently buttoning up the front his nightshirt, looked up, surprised that Frodo knew so exactly what he was thinking. "I know Rosie'll be fine with her mum," he answered. "Only, I can't help thinking of her."
"I understand," said Frodo glumly. Rosie might as well be down the hall; she was with them just the same.
Now that there was a baby on the way, Sam rarely spent more than an hour with him on "his nights," but instead returned to sleep beside Rose in case she needed anything. Since he'd learned that she was pregnant, Sam fussed over Rosie as much as he did over Frodo during his bad spells--except that Rosie was in bloomingly good health. Like Angelica, maternity became Rose; she looked lovely, and had an air of secret contentment about her, as if she were always aware of the new life she was carrying.
Frodo tried not to be resentful. He told himself that this was only right. It was natural under the circumstances that he no longer be the center of Sam's life; he couldn't blame either Sam or Rose for behaving in a perfectly normal manner for two recently married young hobbits expecting their first child. He'd wanted Sam to have a family. But now that Rosie and Sam had embarked upon what many hobbits would call the most important business of life--making more hobbits--Frodo couldn't help feeling left out. He didn't like to admit it, but he was feeling his first real stabs of jealousy.
He sat up and held out a hand. "Come to bed, Sam." How could he make his needs plain without sounding as if he were complaining? "I've been looking so forward to being with you tonight. I've missed you."
"Missed me?" Sam looked confused as he sat down on the bed. "But you see me every day!"
"Yes, and some nights too, but it's not the same as it was when I had you to myself."
Sam's face cleared. "I'll stay all night with you, if you want. You said you didn't mind."
"I did say it, and I meant it."
"You know how things'd change once me 'n' Rosie got married. We couldn't go on, same as before, once she was living with us. And now there's the baby."
"Yes, I know," murmured Frodo. He drew his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around his calves. "I don't begrudge that, Sam--honestly, I don't. I knew what would happen when I encouraged you to marry, although I didn't expect a baby so soon. You've barely been married five months!"
"That's long enough sometimes," Sam replied with a small smile.
"I'm happy for you, Sam, and happy about the baby. But we're meant to be sharing, and I don't feel as I've been getting my fair share of your time. When you are with me, even if it's only for an hour or two, I'd like to feel that your thoughts aren't elsewhere. I know it's selfish of me. I understand that it mayn't be easy for you now, with Rosie in her condition, but can you manage it for my sake? Just for a little while?"
"I'll try," Sam answered, and regarded him silently. Then he said, "All right-" and grabbed Frodo by the ankle. A swift tug sent Frodo sprawling--he let out a yelp of surprise as he flopped flat onto his back on the mattress.
His nightshift was swiftly pulled up and pushed into his armpits. Frodo writhed and laughed out loud with ticklish delight as Sam's fingers ran lightly over his bared ribs and belly, and lower--he yipped again and bucked his hips.
Sam took him by the waist to hold him still. "Better?" he asked Frodo.
"Marvelous, thank you."
Sam grinned and his head went down; his tongue flickered over a nipple. Frodo squirmed at the exquisite sensation and he plucked at Sam's hair and shoulders, trying to pull him up so they could kiss. At last, he succeeded. They lay chest to chest, mouths meeting hungrily.
For the first time in a long time, Frodo felt as if he had Sam's full attention, until a shout came from the next room. Sam stopped kissing him and lifted his head to look toward the wall above the headboard.
They could hear people talking in the room next door; the sound was muted so that the words were not clear, but the strident tone was unmistakable and the voices were very familiar.
"Now there's something we haven't heard in awhile," said Sam. "It's almost like old times."
But it wasn't exactly like those days last summer when Merry and Pippin had been staying at Bag End and shared a room near Frodo's. Then, the sounds they'd overheard had been happy. Now, the two were arguing.
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