Frodo was just getting ready for bed one night, when there was a tentative tap on his door. Sam ventured in. This was not un-expected: since Sam and Rosie had moved into Bag End, one or the other usually came by his room at bed-time to ask if he wanted anything before they went to bed themselves.
Instead of asking the usual question, however, Sam announced, "Rosie sent me. I'm supposed to sleep here tonight."
This was a surprise.
"Of course you're always welcome," Frodo responded, puzzled, "but what's wrong? Did the two of you have a quarrel?"
"No, not a quarrel, exactly..." Sam answered reluctantly; he seemed strangely embarrassed as he explained. "You know how she's been lately, now she's getting closer to the baby's time--brooding and bursting into tears at the least little thing. She says she wants to be by herself." Then he blurted out, "She told me to go to bed with you."
Frodo gaped at him. "Surely that's not what she meant."
"Oh, that's what she meant all right. No mistake about it!
"She wasn't joking, or speaking in anger?"
Sam shook his head. "She wasn't angry. Just as we were going to bed, we were talking about the baby. You know how I want to name it after you, Frodo, and I told Rosie so. And out of nowhere, she says, 'If you'd rather be with Mr. Frodo, why don't you go to him?'" He imitated his wife in a voice more highly pitched than Rosie's actually was. "Just like that! She spoke calmly, not shouting at all." His eyes were wide in astonishment at this incomprehensible female behavior. "She said she didn't want me in the bed with her anymore, and I was to sleep with you. I couldn't misunderstand her meaning--she was very clear about it. She said to me, 'Go and bed down with Mr. Frodo tonight. Bugger his brains out if you want.'" Sam blushed as he repeated this last part. "I never heard her use words like that before. She must've gotten 'em from that foul-mouthed brother of hers. If you could hear the things that Tom Cotton says sometimes..."
The sentence trailed off, unfinished, and they stared at each other as both thought of what this meant for them. Sam took a step toward him, when Frodo said, "Excuse me," and picked up his dressing gown.
"Where're you going?" Sam asked, baffled, turning as Frodo passed him on his way to the door.
"To talk to Rose. I want to be certain, before we do anything we might regret..." As he put on the dressing gown, their eyes met again--in Sam's, he saw a yearning that matched his own. If he stayed another minute, they'd be in each other's arms. "Wait here for me, Sam. I'll be right back."
Frodo went down the hall to what had been the best spare room before he'd given it to Sam and Rosie. A smaller room, adjoining it, was being converted into a nursery.
At the door, he hesitated. He'd always been a little shy of women; beyond the great ladies he'd met on his quest and the aunts and girl-cousins of his childhood, he had no close female acquaintances. He rarely had personal conversations with women--and never one like this! What was he going to say?
Although Rosie had been living in his house for nearly a year, she was still a stranger to him in many ways. They were polite and respectful, inquired after each other's health and discussed house-hold business, but they'd never truly been friendly. Of course, the situation was a bit awkward, since he was in love with her husband.
When Sam had wanted to marry Rosie, Frodo had decided to be generous. He knew that he could have put a stop to it--if he had insisted, Sam would have given Rosie up--but he had not wanted Sam to be unhappy. Instead of discouraging their marriage, he'd done everything he could to make it easy for them. Even when he saw that he would have to give up Sam himself, he had not withdrawn his generosity. He'd let Sam go as his lover, and tried to be content with the friend-ship they still had.
It wasn't a painless effort. Nights were the worst. How many times had he lain awake, alone, missing Sam's arms around him and trying not to think of the newly-wed couple in their own bedroom down the hallway? Too many times to count. But if those lonely nights were over...
His heart was beating hard, hopefully, at the prospect of having his lover back again, but he didn't want to be too eager yet. In spite of everything Sam had told him, he needed to hear the words from Rosie herself, and believe that she meant it, before he went any farther. He would not have a few hours of stolen happiness tonight if it only made all their lives miserable hereafter.
Summoning his nerve, he knocked at the door. From within the bedroom, there came a sniffled, "Go away, Sam!"
"It's not Sam, Rosie. It's me, Frodo. May I please come in?"
"Mr. Frodo?" He heard the sound of rustling cloth, then Rosie said, "Come in."
When Frodo entered the room, Rosie was sitting up in bed, tucking the quilt modestly around herself to cover her nightshift. She had obviously been crying, and wiped at her cheek with the back of one hand as she asked, "What is it you want, Mr. Frodo?"
Frodo thought this was an odd question under the circumstances. He sat down at the edge of the bed and took a handkerchief out of the pocket of his dressing gown to offer to her. "I wanted to talk to you about- well- about Sam, and the reason you sent him to me."
"Didn't Sam tell you?" Rosie accepted the handkerchief.
"Yes, but I'd like to understand why you're doing this. If there's some trouble between the two of you, I don't want to place myself in the middle of it and make matters worse."
She gave him a wry smile. "You don't believe me. Sam didn't either, not at first. I had to make it plain as possible to him, then push him out the door. But I've made up my mind. I won't have him back tonight." She paused in the middle of dabbing at her tears to regard Frodo curiously. "Don't you want him?"
Frodo hardly knew how to answer that, when Rosie went on: "I wasn't wrong, was I? Begging your pardon, Mr. Frodo, but isn't that why we came to live at Bag End in the first place, so you could have Sam here with you? He was yours before he was mine."
So she knew. Frodo blushed guiltily. "Sam told you about us?"
Rosie shook her head. "He didn't need to. My brother Tom was always making jokes about how Sam must be having it off with his gentleman, 'specially after you came home from your travels. I didn't believe it, not 'til Sam said we were going to live here. That made me wonder if there wasn't something in Tom's jokes after all." She rolled and knotted the damp handkerchief with her fingers. "On our wedding night, I knew for sure. I could tell it wasn't the first time for Sam. He knew too well what he was about. There'd been someone with him before me." She lifted her eyes to meet Frodo's. "Who else could it be?"
"Rosie, I swear to you that nothing has happened between Sam and me since you were married," Frodo hastened to explain.
"Don't you think I know that?" Rosie asked back. "Sam made a promise to be true to me, and he wouldn't go back on it if it meant his life." Both of them knew how seriously Sam took his promises. "And Sam always says you're a gentleman of your word. I wouldn't've agreed to come live in your house if I thought you'd be carrying on behind my back. He's my husband--I wasn't going to share him with you."
"You weren't going to... but you've changed your mind since then?"
She nodded. "I've been thinking it over. I'm no good to Sam as I am, and he's no use to me." She tugged the quilt higher over her belly. "Mum told me that this last month or so before my lying-in would be the worst. I'd feel big as a cow, swollen up fit to burst, and I wouldn't want Sam to touch me at all. She was right about that. I can't even abide him in the bed beside me. Just when I've got the pillows fixed around me so my back doesn't ache, he goes and turns over and they're all out of place again. And if he puts a hand on me-!"
Frodo was shocked at her frankness, but he knew that was the way of her people. The Cottons were simple country folk; Rosie had been brought up to view all matters to do with mating and breeding, whether hobbit or animal, as natural, healthy, facts of everyday life--not the mysteries they had been to him until recently. She had probably gone to her wedding bed with a much better idea of what to do than he'd had his first night with Sam, and Sam hadn't known any more than he did then. It had taken a lot of time for them to learn how to make love together.
"So, you see," Rosie finished, "you might as well have the good of him, since I can't."
"Is that the only reason?" asked Frodo. "You wouldn't be crying if it were that simple."
"No," she answered, still twisting the handkerchief in her hands. "It's not so simple, but I can't be selfish and keep him to myself anymore. I used to think I'd won Sam away from you, but I didn't, not really. If he's mine, it's because you gave him up for me." Fresh tears welled in her eyes. "It wasn't easy, letting him go, was it?"
"No, it wasn't," Frodo admitted.
"And you cried over it too?"
"A few times." Some of his nights alone had been terribly long.
"But it didn't stop you doing what you thought was right. If you can do it, then so can I," she said bravely. "Tonight, I was listening to Sam talk about you, the way he always does. You should hear him, Mr. Frodo. Sam thinks the sun rises and sets on you. I know he hasn't been happy since you've parted. He wouldn't ever say so to me, but I can tell. He loves you so much."
"He loves you too."
"So why tear him in half? None of us are happy with things as they are, and I couldn't let it go on. I made up my mind what to do: I'm giving him back to you 'til the baby comes. Afterwards, when I feel like having him in bed again, we'll work out something that's fair for the three of us. If it's what Sam wants, and I want, and you want, then it's the best thing to do, isn't it?" she concluded in the most practical hobbit-fashion.
"I suppose it is." In fact, Frodo had hoped for something like this when he'd first invited Sam and Rose to Bag End, but he was surprised and pleased that Rosie should be the one to propose it. "Do you think Sam will agree?"
"If it's put to him the right way," Rosie answered. "Sam won't go for it, much as he wants to, unless I tell him he can. Well, I've said so. I've done my part--you do yours. Go back to him, Mr. Frodo. Bed with him tonight. Tomorrow, when he sees I'm not angry, he'll understand he can be with you and still be true to me, and he won't think it's wrong. Will you do as I ask?"
"I will," said Frodo. "Thank you, Rosie."
"Just go, please," she dismissed him. "Good night."
On his way back down the hallway, Frodo stopped in the kitchen to get a small glass vial of oil. When he returned to his room, he found that Sam had not gotten into bed, but was sitting patiently at the foot, waiting for him.
"You've been gone awhile," he said as Frodo came in.
"We had a lot to talk over," Frodo told him, "but we understand each other much better now. I never appreciated what a remarkable person your wife is. I was too hurt before," he confessed, "too jealous. She really is wonderful. You're very lucky to have married her."
"What happened? What'd she say?"
"Rosie meant it when she sent you here, and she won't take it back. We've agreed that you're to stay with me for the present, and we'll come to some arrangement later on."
Instead of being glad to hear this, as Frodo had expected, Sam seemed disgruntled. "You and Rosie decided," he said rather sullenly, folding his arms. "Nobody asked me. Don't I get a say whose bed I'm sleeping in?"
"Of course you do." Frodo smiled. "But you've already made your choice for tonight, haven't you?"
"What d'you mean?"
"What I mean, dear Sam, is that there are four other bedrooms in this house fit to receive guests, plus two fairly comfortable sofas in the drawing rooms. You could have gone to sleep in any one of them after Rosie kicked you out, and never said a word--but you didn't. You came straight here to tell me."
Sam grew flustered and fumbled for an answer, but he had been caught out and he knew it. "Rosie really says it's all right?" he asked at last.
"It's all right." Frodo set the vial of oil down on the night-stand, tossed his robe onto the chair by the door, and got into bed. Taking Sam's head between eagerly trembling hands, he drew him into a kiss. When he let go, he said, "Now, you were told to 'bugger my brains out,' and I think you ought to do it."
All the old, familiar sensations Frodo never thought he'd feel again returned to him now: kisses and more wonderful kisses, hands running down over his body. He squeaked in surprise when Sam bent his head to wrap his tongue around a nipple and gently sucked it into his mouth--he'd never done that before! Well-oiled fingers slid in between his legs, and he opened to the touch, heart drumming wildly in anticipation. And then-!
To Frodo's complete delight, Sam followed his wife's instructions very well.
The next morning at breakfast, they laughed and joked over the kitchen table as they had not in some time.
"You're very cheerful," Sam said as he circled behind Frodo's chair to refill his tea mug.
"Blissfully." Frodo tilted his head back against Sam's chest to beam up at him. "And why shouldn't I be? We're together again, after such a long time. At least, you've had Rosie. I've been alone--in the same house with you, but never close enough." He hadn't realized how great the barrier had grown between them until it'd come down last night.
"That's my fault." Sam was immediately contrite. "I'm sorry."
"No, don't be," Frodo assured him quickly. "I can't blame you for keeping a promise. You wouldn't be my Sam if you didn't. I couldn't keep you from someone you loved, any more than Rosie could." He reached up to bring Sam's head down for a kiss before he teasingly said, "You've learned a thing or two since the last time I've been with you. Do I have Rosie to thank for that as well?"
Sam was about to reply in kind, when he stopped suddenly, mouth open and face turning red. Frodo turned to find that Rosie had come to the kitchen doorway.
There was a moment of uncertainty, until Rosie came forward to give Sam her customary kiss on the cheek and "G'morning, dear." Then she lay her hand on Frodo's shoulder. "And good morning to you, Frodo."
It was the first time she had dropped the "Mister." Frodo under-stood that her gesture was not only meant to reassure Sam, but to let him know that she had accepted him. There was a closer connection between them now as well. He was no longer Sam's gentleman to her, to be kept at a polite distance, but part of her family here at Bag End.
He smiled up at her. "Good morning, Rose."
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