Frodo returned to Crickhollow in the late afternoon. He unlocked the cottage door and went into the kitchen to see if there was anything to eat. He'd spent very little time here the last few days, and had been going to the Hall regularly for meals, but as he'd anticipated when he'd left his cousins in Bucklebury, he was too tired to do so after his ramblings and didn't want to walk so far tonight, nor come back along the lane in the dark. Milli had only been coming in for an hour or two in the mornings to make his breakfast and do whatever cleaning up was necessary around the cottage before going home, but she'd left a plate of apple and raisin crumb-cobbler on the kitchen table for him. That would be sufficient to keep him from starving before morning.
He made a cup of tea and took some of the cobbler, and settled down with his dinner in the study. He was looking over the last pages he'd written in the Red Book, also several days ago, when he heard the garden gate creak open. He rose from his chair, wondering who could be coming to see him at this late hour, half-hoping Merry had come to see if he was all right, and half-fearing there'd been another family tragedy. He peeked cautiously out through the little round window beside the front door.
Sam was coming up the walk toward the cottage.
"Sam!" Frodo cried out in involuntary surprise, and hastened to unbar the door. "Sam, hello!" he called out again as Sam saw him. "I'd no idea you were in Buckland! Whatever brings you here?"
"You," Sam answered bluntly as he headed up the walk toward the cottage. "I got the letter you wrote about your cousin Merimas dying. I wrote back saying I was coming as soon as I could, and then started out right afterwards. I expect I got here faster'n it did. I was just asking after you at Brandy Hall. Master Merry told me you were out here by yourself and said as I ought to go see that you'd got back safe and weren't lying in a ditch someplace with your head broken in. They're all worried for you up at the Hall--Master Merry, Pippin, her ladyship, and Missus Took."
"Mrs. Took?" Frodo echoed. "Oh, you mean Melly."
"I told 'em I'd be right back if you weren't here and we'd go out looking for you." Sam reached the door, where Frodo stood waiting, and stopped to study his face. "You're all right?" He put up one hand to Frodo's cheek, but Frodo ducked back to elude the touch.
"Perfectly fine, thank you!" he said. "Come inside, Sam, please. You must have been riding all day. Are you hungry? I'm afraid there isn't much to eat, but we can always go back to the Hall for dinner. They won't mind another guest or two." Frodo knew he was babbling, but he felt nervous, even awkward, faced with Sam alone after so long a time. It wasn't as if they'd quarreled; they were still on good terms with each other, but they weren't as close as they'd once been. He didn't know whether to give Sam a friendly hug, or a more-than-friendly kiss. Everything had once been so natural between them, and now he wasn't certain what gestures of affection were appropriate.
Sam had no such qualms. Once he had entered the front hall, he picked Frodo up in a fierce hug that took his toes off the floor. Frodo had forgotten how exciting it was to be swept up like this. His heart was pounding by the time Sam set him down again and he felt more flustered than before.
He took Sam into the kitchen. In addition to the cobbler, there was also some bread and cheese in the larder. While Sam ate, Frodo asked about everyone in Hobbiton. Sam gave him all the news but, just as he did in his letters, talked mostly about his daughter.
"Nel's walking already, did I tell you? And she can say 'Daddy' clear as anything. We're hoping the next one'll be a boy, but I wouldn't mind another girl if she's as sweet as my Nel. You have to see her, Frodo. She's the loveliest thing. She'll be the prettiest girl in the Shire one day, mark my words. Lad Whitfoot says the same about his little girl. Now, I mean no disrespect. Willa's a pretty enough baby. She takes after Angelica, but my Nel is the image of Rose."
"I suppose they'll be the fiercest rivals when they're older, or the best of friends," said Frodo. "Probably both." It struck him as a sign of how far Sam had come up in the world, that he spoke of Lad and Angelica without prefacing their names with 'Mister' and 'Missus.' Lad and Angelica had likely insisted on it when they'd befriended the Gamgees, and Frodo blessed them for it. "And how is your job as Chief Shirriff?" he asked.
"Not so busy as your Chief Muggeredge has it here. Robin Smallburrows and the other lads 'round Bywater come to me if anything's happened. There's been a robbery or two--those boys, Sancho and Will, up to their usual mischief. As there was nothing I was needed for in Hobbiton when I heard your cousin was killed, I thought I'd come and help you, just as I used to." Sam had carried his red-feathered shirriff's cap tucked into a coat pocket, but he took it out now and set it on the table to show he had come in an official capacity as well as as a friend. "'Tisn't my part o' the Shire, but I stopped at Newbury to have a word with Chief Muggeredge, and he said he didn't mind if I gave a hand to solving these murders with you if Master Merry didn't. When I was at the Hall, thinking you'd be there, Master Merry said he didn't mind either, and it was good to see me. It'd be just like old times now we was all together again."
"It will be. How wonderful of you to come and help, Sam!" said Frodo, touched by his friend's unwavering loyalty.
"It's not the only reason I've come, Frodo," Sam answered. "I was meaning to come after you soon anyway. I want you to come home."
"I'd been planning to," Frodo told him. "I meant to write you about it just before this terrible business began. It's my book, you see. I've gotten to the worst part and don't remember what happened to us in Mordor well enough to write it down. I thought I'd come to Bag End for a week or two, you could tell me everything you remember so that I could finish the story."
Sam had brightened hopefully at the beginning of this announcement, then looked disappointed as Frodo went on. "That's not what I mean," he said. "I want you home again, for good 'n' all. You've been away long enough. I waited all winter for word that you were ready to come back to Bag End, but you never said so and if you're living out here by yourself, they don't need you that bad. After we're done here, you're coming back with me." It wasn't a request, or a demand, or a plea, but a simple statement of fact.
"Oh, Sam..."
"You don't know how much I missed you," Sam went on before Frodo could say anything. "It's more'n I can stand. Don't you want to come home?"
"It isn't that." How could he explain? "I've missed you terribly, Sam, but I've chosen to stay here. It's for the best, for you-"
"No, it isn't!" Sam stopped him. He rose to take Frodo by the forearms, then kissed him so hard that he saw stars. "It's never best if it takes you from me."
Frodo couldn't answer. Everything he had to say had gone out of his head. He'd forgotten too how wonderful it was to have Sam kiss him like this. It didn't occur to him to put a stop to it. To the contrary, he reached up to take Sam's head in his hands and melted against him. When he darted his tongue out between Sam's parted lips, Sam drew slightly back at the unexpected incursion and stared at Frodo in surprise, before Frodo pulled him back again.
"You've got some color in your skin," Sam observed later. It had grown dark by that time, and Sam had lit a candle when he'd rose to wash up. He now sat at the edge of the bed, gazing down at Frodo with a sort of wonderment, as if he had never seen him naked before. "You aren't so pale as you used to be. I noticed it right away, the minute you came to the door. There was color in your face that wasn't there before." He ran a hand over Frodo's flank, which was rosy in the dancing light of the candle's flame, then took him by one shoulder to make him lie flat on his back to look him over. "You've put some weight on too--not enough, if you ask me, but you aren't all bones like you was when I saw you last. And there's the way you were acting, pulling me about, pushing me down 'n' climbing all over me. 'Tisn't like you. You're getting better, aren't you? I knew you would, if only you'd rest and not go running all over and tiring yourself out."
As Sam caressed Frodo's bare chest with the knuckles of one hand, each deliberate stroke sent little shivers of pleasure through him. There was a special thrill in the way Sam touched him, as if he had every right to do as he pleased. Frodo felt possessed as he never did when he and Merry made love, but then Merry never wanted to possess him. They were fond of each other and had a great deal of fun together in bed as well as out, but there was never this wild desire between them. This need that overwhelmed his senses and even his common sense.
He'd surprised Sam with his ardor tonight. During the worst of his illness, he had been by necessity a passive participant in their love-making; he simply didn't have the energy to do more, and he wearied too easily if he tried. But he was stronger now. Also, his experience with Merry had taught him a thing or two about enjoying sex for its own sake, and he'd been encouraged to how to use his celebrated imagination to discover new pleasures. He'd put this education to the test with Sam, and he could see that Sam didn't know quite what to make of it.
"What's this?" Sam had taken the gemstone that lay on Frodo's breastbone between his thumb and forefinger. "I never seen you wear jewelry before, except..." The Ring really didn't count.
"It's a gift." Frodo closed his hand over Sam's.
"From who? It looks Elvish."
"It is. The Lady Arwen gave it to me, in Minas Tirith." Should he tell Sam what else the Lady had given him, the promise of an escape to the West when he could no longer live? Whether he went away eventually or died made a great deal of difference to Frodo himself, as far as Sam was concerned, he would be gone forever either way. Maybe it was better not to tell Sam until that time was closer at hand. "It's the reason why my health has improved," he explained. "It makes the pain easier to bear."
Sam smiled. "There, now! I knew the Elves could do something for you. Things'll be different once we're home again."
Frodo decided not to answer this either. They were happy for the moment. Why provoke a quarrel that could wait 'til the morning?
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