Poison in the Citadel by Kathryn Ramage

In the days that followed, Frodo began to recover with remarkable swiftness. After Arwen's visit, he felt stronger and more hopeful for his future than he had in years. He hadn't realized how badly his health had deteriorated; the descent had been so gradual. He could hardly remember what he'd been like before the Ring had come into his life and cast its spell over him.

"I don't know how long I'll have, Merry," he confided to his cousin one evening after dinner. The two hobbits lay before the fire in Frodo's room, Merry curled lengthwise on the hearthrug, and Frodo rested with his head in the curve of his cousin's waist and his toes stretched toward the grate. He held the white gemstone, which he'd worn since Arwen had placed it about his neck, up to the fire-light to catch bright glints in its facets. "This gift of the Queen's allows me to bear my pain better and I may be able to stay on in Middle-earth more years than I thought I would. I mean to stay as long as I can. At least, when I can bear no more, I have the choice of going to a place where I can be healed, and have peace and rest... but at a price. Once I go, I can never return. But surely that's better than dying, isn't it?"

"It'll be easier for those of us who love you to think of," Merry answered. "And easier to say goodbye at the end. I'll have to say goodbye to you soon in any case. Your work here is nearly done. I suppose you'll be eager to go home once it is." He sounded sad, and Frodo was dismayed to realize that his cousin had no intention of going home too.

"I've been talking to Gandalf about it," he answered. "When we go, we'll go by way of Rivendell. Gandalf says he has business with Lord Elrond." Frodo knew that the two needed to discuss what Arwen had done for him, and to arrange his passage to the West. "Besides, I want to see Uncle Bilbo again. Won't you come with us, Merry?"

Merry shook his head. "I'd like to see old Bilbo too, but there's nothing to draw me back to the Shire. I'll miss you when you go, Frodo. It's been wonderful fun having you here."

"I'll still be here awhile," Frodo told him. "Even if my work is finished and Cirandil is the one, we won't start out right away. I'm not ready to make the journey home yet."

"Aren't you feeling up to it?" asked Merry. "I thought you were much better--the Queen's gift was going to help you."

Frodo's hand closed around the gemstone. "It was. It has. But it can't cure everything."

While abed, he had given a lot of thought to going home and what would happen when he got there. As much as he missed the Shire, what did he have to return to? Bag End? His family? His career as an investigator? Sam? He'd finally made a difficult decision, but one that had to be made.

He'd once been the center of Sam's life, and he would never have that place again. Other responsibilities took priority over him. When there'd only been he and Rosie, they could at least share Sam equally, but now that there was a baby, he must take second place, or third. With each successive child Sam and Rosie had, he would move a little farther from the center. The Queen's gift had given him renewed strength; it might be another ten years before he was weary enough to go to the Gray Havens--and a hobbit-couple could have quite a lot of children in that time!

With each child and passing year, he would have a smaller piece of Sam's life. Therefore, it seemed to him that the best thing to do was take himself entirely out of it now. It would make the ultimate break less painful for them both. The longer he stayed away from Sam, the easier it would be. At least, Sam would have Rosie and their child to love and sustain him. He, on the other hand, must get used to being alone.

Merry had been watching his cousin's face during this reverie; now, he put his arm around Frodo's collar and sat up, bringing Frodo's head down to lie in his lap. He bent his head over Frodo's and kissed him lightly on the mouth. Frodo didn't try to pull away. In his present frame of mind, it was a welcomed gesture.

"You did that once before, at a Yuletide party," he said when Merry sat upright again. "Remember?"

"I remember."

"It upset Sam and Pippin. I think they were jealous." His head still lay in Merry's lap, and his cousin's fingers were in his hair.

"Did it upset you, Frodo?"

"No..." Frodo admitted. "But can I ask you why you did it?"

"Because," said Merry, "when I came out of the Ivy Bush Inn to join the party, I saw you standing there by the green. I recognized you right away. You looked very pretty in your blue tatters, and you were pouting while you watched Sam dance with Rosie. I could see how badly you wanted to dance yourself, and I knew Sam wouldn't ask you. And I wanted to."

"Wanted to? Kiss me, you mean, or dance with me?"

"Both. You looked like you needed it."

"And just now?"

Merry smiled at him. "You looked as if you needed it this time too."

"Yes, I did. Thank you."

For the first time, Frodo began to consider Merry in a new light. Hobbits had no word for the peculiarity he and his cousin shared; until recently, most hobbits never talked about it at all, except in horrified whispers. Since Merry and Pippin had created a public scandal by bringing their love for each other out into the open, "like Merry Brandybuck" had become a common way of describing it. "Like Merry" was how Frodo had described himself more than once. Yet he and Merry were not alike. In their temperaments and personal tastes, they were very different, but they did have this one fundamental trait in common: While most hobbits-lads who loved other boys eventually outgrew it or gave in to their families' wishes and settled down to respectable married life, neither he nor Merry would ever have any natural desire to find a wife or father children. They would never have to be generous and let each other go, as both of them had just given up the one he loved best.

Could they find comfort and companionship in each other?

He'd always loved Merry as dearly as a brother, but the fact of the matter was that they were not brothers, only first cousins once removed--a degree of blood relationship less close than Merry's to Pippin, or between any number of hobbit-couples currently married in the Shire.

Could they..?

"Merry, can I ask why you never played with me the way you did with the other boys?"

"I didn't think you'd want to," Merry answered after a moment's consideration. "You never seemed interested in that sort of thing until Sam got hold of you, and I wouldn't dare to stand in his way! Before Sam, I used to think you were above all that, games and fun. You don't like any of the things other hobbits do--ale or food or going to parties."

Frodo lifted his head. "I like parties and all the rest of it as much as any hobbit."

"No, not as much," Merry retorted, half-teasing. "I believe most hobbits would curl right up and die if you told them they'd never have another pipe to smoke or a drop of ale to drink. They wouldn't want to go on living. Not you. You can take or leave it. You were just the same about sex when we were lads--you never seemed like quite the same flesh and blood as the rest of us."

"Perhaps you're right," Frodo sighed. "If it weren't for Sam, I might've gone through life and never realized what I was missing... and never missed it. I wouldn't have understood myself. I'm not like you in that respect, Merry. You understood what you were about before you were thirty."

Merry grinned. "Five and twenty, actually. Believe me, Frodo, if I'd ever thought you were interested, I would've done something about it."

Frodo sat up so that he could look at Merry face to face. "Would you, Merry?" They met each other's eyes, and held them. Both knew exactly where this conversation was taking them. "You once said that one day, it'd be just you and me left. It looks as if it will be. Sam has gone on with his life, without me."

"And Pippin will go on with his, if he hasn't already," Merry replied.

"Why shouldn't we do it then? It'd be a good match, as they say in the Shire--a match that might've been made for us, if one of us had been a girl."

Merry's grin flashed again. "If one of us was a girl, I don't think the other would be very interested."

Frodo laughed. As he continued to gaze into his cousin's eyes, he thought of how they'd grown up together, so close, closer in some ways than they'd been to Sam and Pippin. They could always talk to each other as they could to no one else. He thought of how they'd slept cuddled together night after night these past weeks, and how nice it was to have someone always nearby if he woke in the dark. He thought of the way Merry had kissed him just now... and he moved a little closer.

They leaned in toward each other. Their lips met, parted at the moment of contact. When he felt the wet tip of a tongue slip past his teeth, Frodo recoiled, startled. "Merry! What're you doing?"

Merry looked puzzled. "What's wrong? Don't you open your mouth when you kiss, Frodo?"

"Of course," Frodo answered, "but not like that. Not with tongues stuck out."

"I won't do it if you don't like it. Are you sure you don't?"

"It's not so bad, I suppose." It seemed like a distinctly unhobbity thing to do, and yet... "Can we try it again?"

Merry tried another deep kiss, which Frodo liked a little better, enough to flicker the tip of his own tongue tentatively in and out of Merry's mouth. The touch tickled, and both of them laughed. A moment later, they were rolling on the hearthrug, arms flung around each other, kissing wetly and enthusiastically.

When they rose from the hearthrug, Frodo walked to the foot of the bed to undress. He didn't ask if Merry would stay the night; Merry had spent most of his nights here lately and it would be nothing unusual if he should stay tonight too. But tonight, Frodo felt enervated at the prospect of it. As he cast shy glances in his cousin's direction, tingles of anticipation thrilled through him and he was more breathless and flushed than even so much kissing could account for.

He'd gotten as far as the top three buttons on his waistcoat when Merry put his hands over his and undid the last two for him, then helped him out of the garment. While both his hands were upraised, Merry took him by the wrists and held his arms away from his body while he gave him another kiss.

"Do you really want to do this, Frodo?"

Frodo nodded. When Merry let him go, he stripped off the rest of his clothing, leaving his shirt, trousers, and underclothes in a heap where he stood, then climbed up onto the bed.

"I lost my virginity here," he announced to Merry, who was still undressing beside the bed. "Sam-" but of course, Sam. Who else? He'd never been with anyone else before this. "Will you make love to me the way Sam does?" he requested.

"Yes, if that's what you want." Merry climbed up after him, cupped the side of his face with one hand, and kissed him tenderly. "Show me how."

Frodo showed him. He showed Merry just how he liked to be touched, the way Sam would touch him. Merry did just as Frodo had asked, although he didn't love him quite the way Sam had--and then he showed Frodo some things Sam had never done, to Frodo's astonishment and utter delight.




Much later that night, Gandalf opened the door to Frodo's room and peeked in, as he did every night before he went to bed himself. It reassured him to see that Frodo was sleeping peacefully.

He was accustomed to see the two hobbits curled together, Merry's fair head on the pillow besides Frodo's darker curls. If he also observed that neither was wearing a nightshirt, he would not say anything to them about it when he saw them in the morning.
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