Old Winyards

Chapter: Vignette
Pairing: Sam/Frodo
Authors: Catherine and Thuri
Rating: U-M
Warnings: Language; Mild angst
Summary: Sam and Frodo spend their first Thanksgiving together.


"Happy Thanksgiving!" Sam had heard this refrain time after time since the very first year his Gaffer had moved them all to America. They had had quite the introduction to this all-American holiday, what with Bilbo's famously extravagant feast given for his family and friends and the workers on the Estate. Once his mother had picked up on the idea, she'd insisted that they celebrate this holiday in their own home and family, as well, reasoning with the Gaffer that it was only right, now that they'd chosen to move here, to do as their neighbours and friends did. The Gaffer, who could refuse neither such logic nor his beloved wife, agreed, and thus was born the Gamgee family Thanksgiving.

To be sure, it was a bit different from the American version in its details. Sam came to doubt that most Californians ate broad beans with their turkey, for example, or guzzled Ribena beforehand, much less scoffed both treacle tart and spotted dick for afters. He thought the Americans rather foolish for preferring pumpkin pie to such delicacies, but he did have to agree with his North Bay friends' opinions about overly minted peas. He smiled at these memories. There had been some good Thanksgiving Day cheer in the Gamgee home, even after Bell had died. The Gaffer had kept up the tradition, with Daisy's help, of course, and it had always been a time when they would come together. Even Ham used to come home, on occasion.

Now, as he listened to the people at Bag End wishing each other happiness on this day, he couldn't help but feel the sinking pain in his heart that he might never again sit down with his family to Thanksgiving dinner the way he had known it, and his isolation became palpable. Frodo had, of course, invited him to sit down to the midday meal with the Tooks and Brandybucks who had invaded Bag End for the day for Frodo’s sake, but Sam had declined, explaining that he and May were going to have a quiet little time together. In truth, they did plan to have tea together before May had to go off to Number 3, but Sam wasn’t ready to face the scrutiny of Frodo's extended family in the face of his own ejection from the Gamgee clan.

So, Sam sat in the small, private sitting room just off the master suite and stared out the window, wondering if he could ever get back to the vineyards he loved and sink his hands into the ground, planting and tending vines in the most beautiful place he'd ever known. He thought of his Gaffer, teaching him to prune the vines at this time of year, and a sob took him as he thought of May joining the rest of the Gamgees in the cosiness of Number 3 for their eccentric feast. "Happy Thanksgiving, Dad," he whispered, and closed his eyes, leaning back against the couch.

"Sam?"

Sam squeezed his eyes shut. "You could scare a man to death, sneaking in so quiet-like," he muttered.

Frodo came closer, slipping his arms around Sam's waist. "I'm sorry," he murmured, hooking his chin over Sam's shoulder.

Sam leaned back into Frodo and sighed. "It's all right, love. I were just wool-gathering, is all."

"I love you," Frodo murmured. "I'm sorry, you can't go home..."

"So am I," said Sam, biting his lip. "But I don't want to keep you from your family, love."

"I'd rather be with you."

Sam hugged Frodo's arms. "And I with you."

"Then let's stay here."

Sam leaned his head against Frodo's. "I only wish I could take you home with me," he whispered, looking fixedly out the window.

"Someday."

Sam's breath hitched, but he held himself steady. "Well, at least you don't have to eat those minty peas."

Frodo's brow furrowed, but he didn't ask, kissing Sam's neck.

That tender touch proved Sam's undoing. He slumped, wracked by silent tears.

Frodo sat beside him and pulled him close, cuddling him tightly.

"The stupid thing is, I miss those bloody peas," sniffed Sam, clinging to Frodo.

"What peas?" Frodo asked gently, rubbing his back.

"The ones we always have at Thanksgiving. Mum used to say we should take the best of both sides of the pond and put 'em together for giving thanks. Daisy started making 'em after... well, after Mum couldn't no more. They w-were horrible!" Sam pushed his face into Frodo's chest to hide a deep sob.

"Ahhh. Like Bilbo's potatoes."

"D'you miss them, too?"

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry, love." Sam wrapped his arms around Frodo and kissed his cheek. "Your first Holiday without Mr. Bilbo, and here I am blubbering away when me family's just down the road."

"We can cry together," Frodo offered, holding him closer. "Oh Sam..."

Sam pulled his lover to him. "Frodo..." Sam dropped soft kisses on his face before hiding his own against Frodo's neck. "I love you, so."

"And I love you." Frodo held him close, tears slipping from his eyes.

They held each other thus for long moments, Sam rocking Frodo, gently, reaching to soothe stiff neck muscles and shoulders. "I won't leave you," he whispered, cradling the back of Frodo's head. "Not ever, my Frodo-love."

"And I won't leave you."

Sam held him tight.

"Mr. Frodo?" said Daisy from the doorway, her voice soft.

Frodo didn't move.

Sam pulled himself together enough to speak. "Daisy, just give us a minute, love, please..." He held Frodo close.

"I'm sorry, only Mr. Merry and Mr. Pippin wanted me to tell you they're leaving... Oh, I'll just go send 'em on their way!" She turned quietly and left. "Bloody interfering busybodies, they are, an' no mistake," she muttered. "Can't even allow our Sam a little peace with his Mr. Frodo on a Holiday..." Her voice faded away as she turned the corner.

Sam kissed Frodo's cheek. "I'm sorry about that," he murmured.

"It's all right," Frodo murmured. "See? I'm yours, and Daisy thinks so, too."

"Aye," said Sam, pulling back enough to look at Frodo, "that she does." A slow smile overtook him, even as tears sprang anew to his eyes. He traced the dear face, his fingers soft and sure. "And so do I."

Frodo kissed him, tears of his own still falling.

Sam hugged Frodo to his breast and wept quietly with him. "I suppose we're just going to have to make a Thanksgiving dinner of our own, with all the awful food we've come to miss," he sniffed, at last.

Frodo laughed softly. "I suppose so..."

Sam kissed the tears from Frodo's face. "Well, I can be thankful for you," he murmured. "That you're alive and safe, and that you're here in my arms and won’t go gallivanting. Even if you tried, I'd stow away," he added, ruefully.

"I believe you would," Frodo agreed, smiling. "I love you, Sam. And I'm more thankful for you than anything else in my life."

"Oh, and you're going to set me off again, an' all," said Sam, blinking again. He ducked his head to wipe his eyes. "I still can't believe how lucky I am," he murmured. His lips were just touching his lover’s when he heard the soft footstep at the door. He leaned his forehead against Frodo's. "What is it, Daisy?"

"Well, now that the others have gone, well, we, that is, Mari and May and I... Well, we'd like to invite you for a bite to eat. That's if it's all right with Mr. Frodo. That is, we'd like you both to come. We've prepared something for you both, and... well, would you please come to the dining room?"

"Frodo-love?" Sam stroked Frodo's cheek.

Frodo smiled. "Are there minty peas?"

Sam kissed Frodo full on the mouth, right there in front of God, Daisy and everybody.