Title: Bed and a Feather Pillow

Author: Olivia V.

Status: Complete

Rating: PG

Summary: Based on a scene in the Extended version of the movie, and an extension of one of the new scenes. Frodo reflects on why Sam chose to join Frodo on the journey to Bree.

Spoilers: FOTR, Movieverse. Took the exchange after Sam and Frodo see the elves and went running with it.

Pairing: Sam/Frodo

Archive: Please email me at oliviav@att.net and ask first.

Disclaimer: The characters portrayed here belong to J. R. R. Tolkien. They are not mine and I could never do them real justice. I’m just playing with them for a bit.

Frodo heard Sam grunt uncomfortably for the fourth time in the last ten minutes. Poor Sam, he was no more comfortable with sleeping out in the open than Frodo was.

“Everywhere I lie there’s a dirty great root sticking into my back,” he said. Sam made a barely audible groan as he shifted and sounded almost as frustrated as Frodo felt.

Frodo took a deep breath, inhaling the crisp night air. It was only the first night of their run to Bree with the One Ring at Gandalf’s instruction. Frodo hoped they wouldn’t be wandering out here for more than a week. He wasn’t fond of sleeping outside like this.

Frodo wished Sam had not been listening to his plans to leave the Shire the night before. At the very least he half wished Sam had had the good sense to not get caught. And he’d wished Gandalf had not insisted Sam come along on this trip.

The One Ring was his burden, not Sam’s. Sam shouldn’t have been out here at all.

Frodo sighed, keeping his eyes closed. As far as Frodo knew, Sam had never ventured far out of Hobbiton, let alone the whole of the Shire. For Sam, Bree may as well be a whole new world. Being a typical hobbit, Sam’s going to Bree with him was quite possibly one of the bravest things Frodo had ever seen his gardener do.

It made Frodo want to smile that the reason why might have to do with how Sam felt about their friendship. He felt blessed.

Frodo felt a small rock digging into his hip. Frodo realized he was going to have trouble getting to sleep himself. He shifted slightly in an attempt to keep a small bruise from developing, and he thought back to what Bilbo used to say to get him to sleep on their trips together to Brandy Hall. Frodo remembered the visual Bilbo gave him to relax when they camped out so he could fall asleep.

And so as much for himself as for Sam, Frodo said in the softest, most soothing voice he could muster, “Just shut your eyes, and imagine you’re back in your own bed, with a soft mattress and a lovely feather pillow.”

He heard Sam shift behind him. Perhaps the visual was working and his friend was settling down.

After a moment Sam said, “It’s not working, Mr. Frodo. I’m never going to be able to sleep out here.”

Frodo smiled to himself. The image hadn’t worked for him either. “Me neither, Sam.”

In reply he heard the soft smack of Sam’s lips as he polished off a leftover piece of sausage, licking the juices off his fingertips.

Frodo could just picture the scene in his head. Sam would be rolling over just enough to grab a piece of the cured meat, bring it to his mouth, and then lick the juices from his callused fingers.

Frodo rolled over onto his back and looked at his gardener. “Any more left?”

Sam nodded. “I’ll fix you a plate if you like, Mr. Frodo.”

Frodo got up and approached Sam, his blanket wrapped around his shoulders. Sam reached for a plate to dish out some of the meat from the pan, but Frodo silently shook his head. It was way too late for Sam to serve him. Leaning over, he took a piece of leftover meat from Sam’s plate and sat down on the ground by Sam’s bedroll, his back to the fire. “No, thank you. I’ll just share your plate with you if that’s all right.”

Sam nodded, staring up at the stars and chewing thoughtfully. “I wonder if the stars in Bree look the same as they do in the Shire. Do you know if they are, Mr. Frodo?”

Frodo looked up at the stars briefly. From his vantage point, he saw no difference between the view from Bag End and the view from where they were in the woods. He shrugged. “I’ve only been to Bree once as a tweener, but I think they do look the same, Sam. It’s not that far from where the Shire is anyway, if Bilbo’s maps are any indication.”

“Is Bree a nice place to visit?” Sam sounded worried, almost timid.

Frodo chewed thoughtfully and swallowed. “It depends on where in Bree the Prancing Pony is. Some parts of the town are nicer than others.” Frodo picked up the plate with the sausage and held it out to Sam.

Sam picked up another sausage. His fingers brushed Frodo’s and Frodo thought he caught a glimpse of a blush in Sam’s cheeks as he pulled his hand back, putting the sausage into his mouth and looking at the sky again.

Frodo wondered what Sam was thinking, but thought that Sam might not want to tell him if he asked. In order to fill the silence in the air, he asked, “Sam, do we have any biscuits?”

Sam frowned, not taking his eyes off the stars. “I knew I forgot to pack something. I also should have packed some rope.”

“We’re just hiking, Sam. We won’t need any rope on this trip.”

Sam started to rub his back, shifting again on his bedroll. “You never know when a bit of rope will come in handy. Gaffer always told me it’s best to be prepared for any emergency. I didn’t listen, though. If I did, I’d have ointment for my back.”

Frodo smirked, grabbing another piece of meat. He wondered if Sam might be more comfortable if he were in a different location. “Perhaps you should sleep further from the tree then, if roots are the problem.”

“Then I’d be too far to tend the fire for you, Mr. Frodo.”

“Nonsense. What I mean is it would help if you moved your bedroll closer to mine on the other side of the fire. There are no roots where I’m sleeping.”

“Oh, I see. That makes sense.” Sam sat up and gathered his bedroll and blankets. “Where should I set up my bedroll?”

Frodo stood up and took Sam’s blankets from him. “Come on, I’ll help you with the bedroll. We can put it next to mine, and you can sleep beside me.”

“I’ve got it, Mr. Frodo.” Sam smiled shyly and set his bedroll on the ground, unrolling it so that it was right up against Frodo’s. As Frodo laid back down, Sam went to retrieve the leftovers and put a little more wood on the fire.

Frodo looked up at the night sky. He wondered what things were like beyond Bree and if things truly were as Bilbo described beyond the Shire. It was doubtful he’d see much on this trip. After all, bringing the One Ring to Bree was an errand, not an adventure. Inwardly, Frodo sighed.

Frodo wondered if he and Sam could take a short detour together, just the two of them, beyond Bree to see some of the places Bilbo talked about in his stories. Surely Gandalf would not need them after he retrieved the One Ring in Bree. Knowing how wise Gandalf was, he was likely to have the head of his order carry the Ring himself to where ever it would be safe from Sauron’s grasp. And maybe, Frodo could find out where Bilbo was and see him one last time

Frodo looked up to see Sam throw another log into the fire.

He suddenly felt happy that Sam was with him. Sam at least would be a constant reminder on this trip of the Shire they both loved. Sam’s presence would put things into perspective.

More importantly, it meant that Frodo did not have to go on this journey completely alone. The idea of having Sam with him was as comforting as the fire Sam was maintaining, or the blanket he was wrapped in.

Frodo leaned up and patted the space on Sam’s bedroll with a gentle smile. “Come on, Sam. We should at least try to get some sleep. Our hike to Bree is a long one and we need the rest.”

Sam nodded and approached the bedroll. Frodo handed him his blankets and Sam settled in, tucking an arm behind his head.

After a few minutes of quiet, he said, “I’m sorry Mr. Frodo, but this isn’t much better. I have a small stone sticking in my back now.”

Frodo turned his head, his brow furrowed. And then he remembered the stone that was sticking into his hip earlier. “Arch your back upwards, Sam.”

Sam blinked.

“I’m just going to fish around under the bedroll and remove the stone. Trust me.”

“Oh.” Sam lifted his hips up, balancing on his elbows. Frodo slid his hands under the bedroll and felt around quickly. He could feel Sam’s body shake slightly as the gardener struggled to keep his hips up in the air.

Perhaps making Sam sit up would have been a better idea under the circumstances. Frodo found the stone and grabbed it, but kept his hand under Sam a few moments longer than necessary. Just to check for more stones, he told himself. Reluctantly, he moved his hand away and tossed the stone aside. “All right. Try laying back down.”

Sam dropped his hips to the ground. After a moment, he smiled. “Better, I think. Although I wish I had that fine feather pillow you spoke of. If you understand me.”

Frodo had another thought. “I do... In fact, I have an idea for that as well.”

“You do?”

“I do. Roll towards me. I’m not as soft as a pillow, but you could rest your head on my shoulder tonight if you want to.”

Frodo studied Sam’s face as his friend considered the proposal. Sam’s eyebrows knit together and he pursed his lips. Frodo wondered what it might feel like to touch those lips with his fingertips, but he stayed his hand.

“Shouldn’t I be used as a pillow for your head instead, sir?” Sam asked

“You’re carrying more than I am. I’ll tell you what, Sam. You can be the pillow for me tomorrow night. Now, come on.” Frodo stretched out his arms and waited. After a moment’s hesitation, Sam rolled over, settling his head on Frodo’s shoulder.

Frodo folded his arms around Sam, and imagined he was holding the essence of the Shire in his arms. This close, Frodo could smell the scent of his garden at Bag End coming off Sam, a whiff of wet dirt and daisies, along with the smells of the kitchen and a hint of well made ale. Underneath it all was something that belonged to Sam alone. Frodo gave into a sudden urge and squeezed Sam closer.

He felt Sam’s arm snake around his torso, Sam’s large hand coming to rest so that his thumb pressed against one of his ribs. Sam was warmer than any blanket or fire could have been. Raising a hand Frodo began to stroke the back of Sam’s head.

Sam’s curls were surprisingly soft to the touch, and Frodo let one twirl around his index finger. His voice came out as soft as it had when he’d told Sam to imagine a bed and a feather pillow. “Better now, Sam?”

Sam nodded against his shirt, cheek brushing the linen and chin grazing a nipple thought the material of Frodo’s shirt. Frodo bit his lower lip.

“I might be able to fall asleep now, except…”

“Except what?”

Sam lifted his head and stared at Frodo. “I’m a bit afraid I’ll smother you with my weight, sir.”

Frodo couldn’t help but laugh. He leaned up and kissed Sam on the cheek. “You won’t. You’re as gentle with me as you are with the daisies in the garden.”

Sam’s cheeks flushed in the firelight. “Even if that were true, then I’m still not nearly gentle enough with you, sir.”

“Oh, Sam.” Frodo rubbed Sam’s back. “I’m not a delicate bit of glass. I’m just a hobbit.”

Sam yawned in reply, snuggling in against his shoulder. Frodo could feel Sam’s fingers trace the threading in his shirt lightly, and it was more comforting than even a bed and a feather pillow. Frodo smiled and rested his chin on Sam’s head.

The warmth of Sam’s body and his touch started to make Frodo sleepy. As Sam drifted off and began to snore, Frodo closed his eyes and did not move until morning.

-- End --