Old Winyards

Pairing: Frodo/Sam (almost)
Authors: Catherine and Thuri
Rating: M (language)
Warning: Angst
Summary: Frodo receives an unexpected birthday present


Frodo dropped the letter, and sighed. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised; Bilbo had made enough noises about it. He rubbed his forehead. "Well... I suppose that's that, then."

He left the room and walked out to his cousin, Merry, and Sam, both of them busy cleaning up from his birthday party. "He's gone. Bilbo's left me the vineyard..."

Sam straightened from where he was gathering up dishes and stared in shock at Frodo, aware that Merry was in a similar state, and that not one but two armloads of crockery were falling to the ground in slow motion. "He never!" he said, aghast, as Merry moved toward his cousin.

Frodo held out the letter in mute reply, as Merry enfolded him in his arms.

Dear Frodo, Sam read, I have long looked on you as a son, and now confirm it, by signing over title and ownership of Bag End and the winery to you. I am off, to adventure and live and write as I have long wished to. We shall, perhaps, see each other again, if time and fate are kind. Your affectionate uncle, Bilbo.

Sam looked up from the letter in stunned disbelief. He saw Frodo fighting for control in Merry's arms and a pang of sympathy shot through him. He had a good idea how much Bilbo meant to Frodo. In fact, Bilbo was very important to everyone on the Estate, and would be deeply missed. Right now, though, he couldn't help letting a little anger seep in around the edges at the abrupt manner of his departure, any more than he could keep himself from taking that extra step toward Frodo and reaching out to squeeze his shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Frodo."

"Thank you, Sam," Frodo replied, trying to keep hold of himself. "You and your family will stay, I hope?"

"Of course we will!" said Sam. "Don't you even think we'd do anything else!" He hoped he wasn't shaking too much.

"Thank you..." Frodo was shaking.

"Shh, Fro, of course they won't leave you," Merry said softly, hugging his cousin close. "And neither will I. Come on, I think we should get you to bed... Been too much happening today. Help me, Sam?"

"Of course I will," said Sam. He smoothed his hand over Frodo's shoulder. "Here, Mr. Frodo, you just lean on us, now. We're right here with you. I won't be going nowhere, if I have anything to say about it."

Frodo relaxed a little into both of them, and didn't resist as Merry quickly and easily got him to bed, and had Sam fetch some Tylenol PM from the medicine cabinet. "Won't hurt him to sleep it off," he said with a shrug.

Frodo downed the pills without protest.

Sam looked anxiously down at Frodo as he took the glass from his shaking hand. "I'll just get you some more water, sir, so's you can have it by you when you need it." He looked up at Merry.

"Thank you, Sam," Frodo murmured, lying down. "How could he...? I know he wanted to leave, but I didn't think he'd really do it..."

"Shh, Fro," Merry said again, sitting down and smoothing his cousin's hair. "Think about it in the morning. Sleep, now."

Eventually, Frodo did as he said.

Sam fetched the water, as he'd promised, and set it down just as Frodo drifted off.

As Merry turned to go, Sam mustered his courage. "Mr. Merry, might I have a word with you, sir?"

Merry turned back and smiled. "Of course, Sam. What is it?"

Sam shifted, uncomfortably. "Let's go out in the hall, sir. I'd hate to wake him, now." He guided Merry out of the bedroom.

"I'm worried about Mr. Frodo, sir. He ain't been feeling too well, of late, and now with Mr. Baggins leaving like that, I can't help but wonder if he'll be all right. I - I don't know if he should be alone, sir."

Merry nodded, and sighed. "Damn. Bilbo would pick a time like now... I'll call Pippin, I guess. He was expecting me home, but..."

"I still have to finish cleaning up, sir. I could stay here doing that and keep me ear open, if you need to be getting home."

Merry smiled. "Would you? That would be wonderful, and I know Frodo likes your company..."

"He does?" blurted Sam, and then coloured up to his ears.

Merry carefully did not laugh. "He does."

Sam rather envied the dregs of the wine being poured down the drain right at that moment. "Well then, that'll make it all the easier if I have to stop him from doing anything silly during the night," he mumbled. He looked up at Merry. "It's all right, sir. You go on home to Mr. Pippin. I'll take care that Mr. Frodo don't come to no harm."

"Thank you, Sam. I know we can trust you." Merry stretched, and yawned. "Hell of a night..."

"That it was, indeed, sir," said Sam, walking with Merry toward the door. "And if I may say so, sir, as much as I admire Mr. Baggins, I wish he hadn't done this."

"You certainly may," Merry replied, shaking his head. "It was a fucking rude thing to do, and not at all the kind of birthday present Fro needed. Damned old fool..." He sighed. "Let's just hope Fro doesn't decide to follow him without letting us know. Well. Goodnight, Sam."

"Goodnight, sir."

Sam closed the door behind Merry and stood for a moment, his head pressed to the heavy, dark oak. Merry's words about Bilbo rang in his ear, and Sam added some choice ones of his own before earlier words pushed out all other thought: "...and I know that Frodo likes your company."

He hadn't known that. They had always been cordial to each other, of course, and Sam had had a serious crush on Frodo for what seemed like eons, but he had always pushed those feelings down and away. Merry's words rattled him now, as he ticked off the reasons why for the ten thousandth time: Frodo was his employer's ward; there was every indication that he was being groomed to inherit Bag End and the Old Winyards Estate; the very idea of an affair between the owner of such a place and a common groundsman was ludicrous.

Damn California's loose society, anyway! His Gaffer's rules were much easier to follow. He always knew where he stood. Why couldn't things be clean and easy?

He wandered into Frodo's room to check on the sleeping figure. Frodo lay, as expected, dead to the world. As Sam turned to go, Frodo turned in his sleep, and Sam saw the tear track glistening on his cheek. Against all his better judgment, and all the harsh words of his Gaffer, he bent and brushed the lightest of kisses against Frodo's hair. "Rest you quiet, now, Mr. Frodo. Your Sam's not going anywhere." He sat down in the chair near Frodo's bed, and watched.

Frodo sighed in his sleep, turning toward the kiss, and the voice.

Sam's heart jumped, but when it became clear that Frodo would not wake, he sighed and took Frodo's hand. "I'll be here. All night, if you need me." He settled back in the chair, Frodo's hand still clasped lightly in his own.

And Frodo's fingers tightened, slightly, keeping that grip, that connection, strong for hours.

When Frodo let go, just before dawn, Sam stretched and yawned, coaxing stiff muscles into rising quietly from his seat. He paused while his limbs awoke, and ran a gentle hand through Frodo's hair. "I'll just be cleaning up, now," he murmured, softer than a whisper, and tiptoed from the bedroom.