A Fortunate Weakness Part 2 -- What Dreams May Hold

[happy_never_after]

Even from the far corner table in the Green Dragon, Merry could see Frodo was in trouble. Frodo's left hand clutched the door frame. He stood as if one in a dream-- looking without seeing and right hand fumbling mindlessly inside his pocket.

Frodo swayed--the noise of the Green Dragon roared through him like the foaming green wave in the elven story Frodo once read to Merry years ago. Queen Tar-Míriel, fairer than silver, she was. Swept away by the wave. Merry watched another wave wash through Frodo-- pushing through his pores, rushing through his insides, coming cold and roaring out of him, only to have the following wave claim him again. He looked small-- vulnerable-- unimportant. He swayed there, struggling to keep the next wave from taking him. Merry hurried to the door to rescue his friend-- afraid that this might be the one green cold Wave plumed with foam-- the one which washes all away in its wake.

A cold shiver of a memory shook Merry as he crossed the room to his friend.

He remembered a Frodo like the one at the door-- a Frodo whose his parents had just died. Lost, alone and empty. No one or nothing could reach Frodo. Merry was young at the time, but he still remembered how his family thought Frodo was lost to them. Yet as quickly as this sadness flooded through Frodo, it ran out of him. The Frodo Merry loved so dearly and tagged after, came back. Now, as Merry looked upon his friend, he feared for him-- fear that he was being swept away never to come back.

What could have happened in the short hours after he and Pippin left Bag End to leave Frodo this way? Something changed Frodo from laughing and joking into the Frodo now standing in front of him. He knew Bilbo's leaving hurt Frodo deeply-- and that Frodo put on a face to hide it. Sam had said as much to him. But this?

"Frodo?" Merry said. Frodo reached out for Merry, becoming his support-- his guide. Gently he lead Frodo to their table. As Frodo looked into Merry's face, recognition crept into his sad deep blue eyes. Merry saw his bottom lip's faint quiver become firm. His glazed stare become clear.

Frodo leaned into Merry. "I'm thirsty."

"Why Frodo," Pippin said. "I think you've had enough."

Ah, Pippin, my dear Pippin, thought Merry. You are just as oblivious to Frodo's trauma as the rest of the patrons of the Green Dragon. And maybe that was as it should be. Best to mistake Frodo's stagger and listlessness as a drunken stupor. Less questions to answer.

"Rosie!" Pippin signaled. "Three over here!" Pippin leaned across the table, sticking his face with in a breath of Frodo's. "I'm up for your dare. Let's find out which one of us may drink the most. Bring the best beer from the tap! Let's settle it now! Think you can drink me under the table? I think we're about evenly matched in our cups about now. What do you say Frodo?"

"No," said Merry, shaking his head vehemently, watching Frodo carefully. "No, it's not a good idea."

"What's wrong Merry?" Pip asked, giving Merry his best croaked smile. "Since when do you say no to a good ol' drinking contest?"

"Lawks! I think both you, and Frodo have had enough," Merry said, jabbing Pippin in the ribs, hoping his cousin would not realize Frodo's real plight.

"Ouch. Merry, I do believe you were trying to hurt me." Pippin leaned in close and said in a husky voice, "Hurt me again Merry."

"Stop that," Merry whispered back harshly.

Rosie set down three full mugs in front of them.

"Merry, now how can you turn these beauties down?" Pip said dramatically, sticking his finger in his ale and testing it. "See? Her taste is sweet. Someone loves me. Come--be My love." With that Pippin tipped the fine brew to his lips and gulped it completely down without taking a breath.

"That's one!" Pip hollered, slamming his mug down on the table. "Rosie, keep them coming!"

"No fair. You started with out me," Frodo said, downing his just as quickly.

Merry tugged at Frodo's sleeve and whispered in his ear, "Do you think this wise?" Frodo gave Merry a quick smile and belched in his face.

Pippin picked up the next mug and chugged. "Two!" he said, punctuating with a belch also. "Ha! I'm also better at burping."

Merry waved one hand in front of his face while holding his nose. "What were you eatin' Pippin?"

"Pickled eggs," Pippin laughed, picking up his third mug.

"Aye! I'm not coming anywhere near you tonight," said Merry. "Give up Frodo. I don't think have a chance against Pip unless you call foul."

"Foul?" said Pip. "I'll show you foul! More pickled eggs!"

Frodo gave Merry a determined stare and pounded his mug on the table. "That's two for me."

Merry watched Frodo grab for his third ale and hesitate a moment before he tipped it against his lips--his throat convulsing before taking a swig. Frodo closed his eyes and took large panicky gulps.

"Pippin?" Frodo set down his empty mug.

"Yes, Frodo?"

"If you were to read my cards, what would you see?"

"I don't know Frodo. Would you like me to read your cards?" Pip asked.

Merry was disturbed to see Frodo gazing into his fourth deep mug of beer before tipping it up to his lips. He picked it up and slowly drank it down. Pippin shifted in his seat. Merry could tell that even Pip was coming to realize that not all was right with Master Baggins.

"I wonder," said Frodo, his finger rubbing the side of his mug. "Would you see a family? Twelve little ones? Is there even one who loves me? Shall there be a tomorrow? -- for me, I mean."

"Don't you go worrying about not being loved, Frodo Baggins. There are plenty who care for you. Me for one," Merry said. "And what's this about no tomorrows? If you don't stop this nonsense, I'll not let Pippin sing you to sleep tonight."

"Noodles! I love you too Frodo," Pippin said, wiping his mouth off with the back his hand and slamming his mug on the table. "And don't you listen to Merry. I'd sing to you no matter what. By the way-- that's three. Best to remember our purpose here and to keep the creed of all drinking games-- never think."

"Drinking contest creed?" Merry laughed. "I thought that was your personal moral code."

Pippin thought on that for a moment, trying to ascertain if he'd been insulted or not. Then said brightly, "I've found thinking often confuses the mind."

"I've found that true also," Frodo agreed with a sigh and picked up his next drink. "Bottoms up!" Frodo said. "To not thinking!"

"To not thinking!" Pip and Merry agreed, tapping their mugs together.

"Set up more ale. Let the game continue," called out Peregrin Took. And with that the contest began in earnest. Merry gave up trying to stop them and joined in. They'd been at it most of the afternoon and looked to be that Frodo Baggins was well past the falling down stage and at the usual point where he spins all kinds of elven tales to anyone who will listen. Merry smiled-- remembering all the times that Bilbo did the same. At least Frodo was happy, thought Merry-- even if he and Pip were bored to tears.

"Aye, and that is the tale of the great Fingolfin. Would you like to hear another Merry? Pip?" Frodo slapped his youngest cousin hard across the back sending his face into his beer. Merry and Frodo both leaned back in their chairs, laughing at Pip shaking the ale from his hair when the smile left Frodo's face. Merry looked to the door to see the cause.

It was Sam.

-------------------

Oh, Frodo thought, he didn't want to be here. In this room-- with Sam now. Not in the Green Dragon, not in Shire nor any where in Middle Earth. It hurt too much. Distance no matter how near or far hurt-- but near hurt most. It was that breath of space between them that would never be crossed that Frodo longed for-- the space he could only reach in his dreams.

Sam nodded to his friend Jolly Cotton and walked over to join him. Sam's eyes skittered past Frodo as he walked by-- their eyes met for only one instant, then Sam looked down. He walked past, head down and sat with his back to Frodo. It was like the longest night of the year inside Frodo's heart.

"Frodo Baggins," Merry said, resting his hand atop Frodo's. "Tell us what happened between you and Sam that's got you hurting so."

"He knows the truth," said Frodo, his forehead hitting the table.

"What truth?" asked Pip.

"The truth about me," answered Frodo, tapping his forehead against the oak table.

"And which truth might that be?" Merry asked.

"I--" Frodo lifted his head and stared long into his beer as if trying to find the answer there. "I want-- I long for-- something I can't have." Frodo voice caught. He could not tell them. If they knew the truth, Merry and Pippin would be horrified. Their friendship was all he had left. He was too drunk to have this conversation. Tears welled up in his eyes. "Why must those I love always leave?" Frodo asked quietly. Did I say that aloud, he thought.

"Would it be any better if you left all that you love?" asked Merry. "No, it would not. Look around you. Do you think you are the only one that feels alone and afraid? You won't name what this truth is. Leaving this truth unnamed gives it power. I know what this truth is-- I know. There are others in this very room that know." Merry said, looking at Pippin. "Do they shrink away?"

"You know?" whispered Frodo.

"For sometime. I have eyes to see. Do you have a voice to speak?" said Merry.

"It's just that I've carried this for so long," Frodo said.

"Do you think we didn't know? Your plans to sell Bag End?" Pippin whispered furtively. "I heard in Michel Delving that the Sackville-Baggins are planning to buy it from you. We thought it just a rumor-- did Sam find out before you could tell him? Don't you plan on taking him with you?"

Frodo sank back into chair. His couldn't think clearly at all. What did they know? He gaze lingered a moment over to where Sam sat.

"You are thinking of going," wondered Merry aloud. "But what's been eating at you isn't that. Not at all. If you'd be leaving, you'd be leaving to follow after Bilbo-- I can't see you all tore up over that. No, that's not why you're trying to drink away your pain. This is about Sam. Maybe it is about leaving him behind. The reason for your condition is the reason behind the way you've been acting since we came to visit. Now, it's come to a crossroad as I see it. Tell us."

Merry knew. He must know, Frodo thought. And he doesn't think any the less of him. Maybe if he does speak this weakness, it will have less power over him. If he could only get the words out.

"Have you ever noticed the color of his eyes?" Frodo sighed. "The color of fire light going cold-- smoldering-- sometimes I'll stir the ashes just to see it."

"Frodo's in love with Sam!" Pip yelped. Frodo's head hit the table again with a groan. What was he thinking, telling them?

"Hush Pippin," Merry said. "Of course he is."

"How is that a problem?" asked Pip.

Merry ignored him. "You told Sam then?"

"No, worse..." Frodo groaned, "much worse. It's what I did, not what I said. I'm sick. I need to get out of here, but I don't think I can make it out the door."

-------------

"Samwise?"

Sam looked up. Master Merry stood before him, struggling to hold up Peregrin Took. "I need your help, Sam. Frodo's passed out and... I have my hands full here. I was wondering, could you do me a favor and look after Frodo?"

Sam stood up and looked over at his master. He'd carried his share of friends home, and he'd been carried home himself a few times more than he'd liked to remember-- but he never once did he carry Mr. Frodo home. He'd seen Mr. Frodo a bit happy with drink before, maybe a bit stumbly, but never such as this. He knowed it was partly because of what happened earlier.

"Aye," Sam said. "Don't concern yourself none Master Merry-- I'll get Mr. Frodo home."

"Thank you, Sam. I don't think we'll be up when you get there, just let yourself in." Sam raised an eye brow as he heard Pippin giggling against Merry's back as they stumbled out the of the Green Dragon.

"Looks to be like Master Merry left the hard work to you," commented Jolly, nodding over to Mr. Frodo who was face down on the table, dead to the Middle Earth.

"Aye, that's for sure," Sam said, hitching up his courage for the long walk to Bag End. Sam could see Mr. Frodo stir a bit and walked over to his master, sitting down in the seat that Merry had warmed next to him.

"Mr. Frodo?" Sam said, shaking Frodo gently.

"Sam? It's you!" Frodo looked closely at Sam. "Is this a dream?"

"It's your Samwise, for sure. But this ain't no dream Mr. Frodo. You are deep in the cups. It's my job to get you home and to bed."

"To bed? That sounds nice," Frodo leaned closer into Sam, his large eyes struggled to focus on Sam's face. "You sure this isn't a dream? When ever I ask someone in a dream if it's a dream, they always tell me it's not,-- so, this must be a dream--"

"Pardon, I don't mean to interrupt, Mr. Frodo," Sam said. "I do follow what you're a saying, but this ain't no dream. This place is the real Green Dragon were sittin' in. That there is Rosie Cotton and over there is Jolly Cotton. Mr. Frodo, you aren't dreaming-- you're drunk."

"Drunk? Why that's silly. I never get drunk. This must be a dream-- otherwise you wouldn't be here with me so close, and you certainly wouldn't be taking me to bed, would you Sam?"

Sam felt his face getting hot. "Hush, Mr. Frodo. And to speak plainly-- others might be listening-- dream or no, that's not wise. We don't need no jaws flapping. Come on let me help you up. Samwise will get you home." He put his arm around Frodo, pulling him up. Frodo let his body melt against Sam's and his head fall into Sam's chest. Lawd, Sam thought, this must be a sight. His felt the blush in his cheeks spread down from his neck into his chest. Sam tried to ignore the stares as he half carried his master out the door.

"Oh, Sam you smell so good. Like strawberries and chocolate." Sam looked around. Wouldn't do to have someone's ears over hear what poor Mr. Frodo was saying. He just wasn't himself, was all. It's not like Mr. Frodo to say such things. Then there was what happened in the kitchen. Sam was just beginning to understand what it all meant-- Mr. Frodo wanted him-- and not in a gardener like way. He'd had some of them feeling afore himself about lasses-- done a bit of kissing and a bit more. But with a lad? He'd heard of such things, but they just ain't natural. True--Mr. Frodo wasn't like others. He liked that Mr. Frodo was different. He did love Mr. Frodo. Always had. Just not that way. He never thought of him any other way before.

Frodo's body leaned heavily on Sam's. His warm sweet breath prickled Sam's neck. Frodo was quiet the rest of the way home-- content to be lead by Sam. It was a warm summer night, stars sparkled in the rich night sky. Yes, Sam was glad to be outside away from the prying eyes and wagging tongues of the Green Dragon. Mr. Frodo was gossiped enough about already without this.

"Sam?" Frodo said as Sam pushed the door open to Bag End.

"What is it Mr. Frodo?" Sam felt Frodo's mouth tenderly brush against his neck.

"What do you want to do with me when you take me to bed?" Frodo whispered, his tongue flicking just behind his ear. Sam swallowed, feeling Frodo's heat against him. This had to stop.

"Mr. Frodo. This ain't no dream. This is Samwise talkin' to you-- flesh and bones and all," with that Sam pinched Mr. Frodo in the ribs. Frodo flinched. A startled look of recognition fell across his face like one in a deep sleep doused with ice cold water. "I'm sorry I did that Mr. Frodo," Sam stammered, "but there seemed naught else would to bring you to your senses, sir."

"Oh, Sam," Frodo moaned and covered his face with his hands. Sam could feel Frodo shivering against him. He watched his master take a shaky step backward and turn away. "Please leave, Sam."

Sam grimaced. Samwise Gamgee, you ninnyhammer. You should have let Mr. Frodo keep believing it was a dream.Was it hurtin' you anyway? Save him the embarrassment. Now you've gone and made it all worse. Better to leave now before he made more a mess o' things.

--------------------

Frodo heard the front door of Bag End close softly. He'd half known all along that it wasn't a dream. Part of his clouded mind hoped Samwise would become the Samwise in his dreams. If he didn't know before, he did now. Sam didn't want him.

He didn't realize he was sobbing until he tasted the tears in mouth. He floundered down the hallway to his room-- his body lurching against the wall for support. He needed to lie down. He needed to sleep-- to escape this living nightmare of a day. He didn't bother to light a candle as he stumbled into the room. He just stripped off his shirt and fumbled around for his chair, but it wasn't in the usual place. Instead, he slid to the floor and pulled off his pants. Crawling on his hands and knees to the bed, he struggled to get into it by pulling himself up with the covers, meeting some resistance. Finally, after the third attempt he lurched himself into the bed.

"Frodo?" asked Merry. First startled then relieved, Frodo threw his arms around Merry, realizing he was in Merry's room-- in Merry's bed. Frodo hung on to Merry and wept. Merry tenderly brushed the damp curls from his face and kissed his salty tears. Frodo shuddered.

"Frodo," Merry whispered. "We thought having Sam bring you home would--help."

"His face. He was sickened by me. I threw myself at him. I asked him to..."

"Who are you talking to Merry?"

"Frodo. I'm talking to Frodo. Go back to sleep, Pip." Instead of going back to sleep, Pippin rolled over and leaned in against Merry, smiling at Frodo.

Bewildered, Frodo gaped at them both.

"I know," Merry said. "We should have told you a while ago. We didn't for the same reason you found it hard to put the way you feel about Sam into words."

Merry swept a tear from the corner of Frodo's mouth with his finger. "I'm so very sorry. No matter what you may think right now, know that Sam does love you."

"I know he loves me too-- just not in love with me." Frodo said, crying softly.

The sheets shifted, and Pippin gently leaned into them-- caressing Frodo's forehead, face and lips with fluttering fingertips. Frodo could hear Merry's breath quicken as Pippin's clever mouth smoothed light kisses along his lover's neck. Frodo wondered what he was doing here. He thought before this was a dream. Was this an extension of the same? --the knowledge of Merry and Pippin together as lovers-- the dream he had so many times. Ahh, Sam. But that would never be real. He felt Pippin's shudder against his own body and suddenly became aware of how close he was pressed against his friends. Ahh, this was real-- so real and so overwhelming. Frodo felt the crush of Pippin's form through Merry. He felt Merry's hand flat against his chest and the heat on his thighs. He felt himself harden.

"You do not need to be alone tonight," Merry murmured in his ear. Frodo could not hide his own need, resting against Merry. It was all too easy to wash away his pain here in this bed. Frodo had kissed and petted some but never felt another form naked against his. Never felt anything like the bare heat that he now felt against him.

"I don't want to be alone tonight," whispered Frodo, and Merry's mouth answered him, tongue urgent. Frodo surrendered to his longing-- opening himself to Merry. A new delicious throb pulsed in Frodo's ears-- his breath hitched; his heart skipped. He wrapped his arms tighter around Merry urgently letting his tongue brush against Merry's lips and then cover his mouth with need. Frodo whimpered as Merry's lips left his mouth--shuddering as Merry drew his kisses down his neck to his chest nipping.

Pippin's hand reached between them, grasping Merry's ridged member. Frodo moaned as Merry gently pushed Frodo on to his back and swept his kisses lower. Pippin took Frodo's hand and placed on Merry's length-- all making Frodo dizzy. This felt good, yet he felt detached. With his hand under Pippin's, they both squeezed. Merry bit back a cry then looked up into the depths of Frodo's eyes searching. Then he saw it.

Merry sat up, pulling away from both Frodo and Pippin.

"It's not right," said Merry. "I know you don't want to be alone, but this may be too much. I don't want you to do this unless this is what you want Frodo-- you know in your heart." Merry hesitated, still breathing heavily. "I see in your eyes that lost look. I'm not so sure you should be here with us-- like this."

"Part of me wants this--" Frodo said, "wants this desperately. You know I'm wanting for Sam. Yet all my dreams-- my desires for him will never come to pass. It's this wanting inside of me-- wanting more. Merry, you know me too well. I do want more than this, but maybe this shall be all I ever have."

"And maybe this shall have you wanting more than before," said Merry. Frodo knew Merry was right. He wasn't the only one to think of either. Pippin had been strangely quiet through all this-- listening to them both. The last thing Frodo wanted was to do anything that would hurt them. "I understand completely," Merry sighed. "You may leave, or you may stay. If you like, you may even watch. And if you want more we'll be here too." Merry turned to meet Pippin's eyes and smiled.

Frodo sat for a moment, searching both of their faces. Was it a mistake stumbling into this room or is this what he wanted?

"I'd like to watch. Please," said Frodo.

Pippin's lips curled into a wicked little smile.

Pippin kissed Merry's eyelids then pecked both his cheeks. "This will be fun," he said, winking at Frodo then taking Merry's mouth in his. Frodo could see Merry jaws working as Pip's tongue darted inside his mouth. Frodo felt his heart pound as he watched Pippin pull himself atop his lover and began to slowly grind his hips. Merry moaned in return, sliding his member in hot rhythm next to Pippin's own heat. Frodo sat watching-- panting almost as hard as they were.

"I want you inside me Merry," he heard Pippin say.

Frodo had heard of this being done and had wondered about it. In his dreams, he had some clumsy visions of what this might be like with Sam. He watched as Merry took a small blue bottle from beneath the pillow and pour a bit of oil on to his hands. Pippin reached out, and Merry languidly poured a bit into his. Pippin rubbed it on to Merry's stiff member, sending shivers through Frodo. He couldn't take his eyes off either of them, and his hand slowly found his own need and stroked it in time with Pippin's strokes on Merry. Frodo's gestures were not lost on either Merry or Pippin, who whimpered in delight to see Frodo hot and sweaty, writhing on their bed.

When Merry took his finger and began to stretch Pippin to make room for his length, Frodo thought he would come right then. Pippin squirmed and pushed against his hand and said, "More, more please, Merry." And Merry answered with another finger prying him-- and then another-- each time sending shivers through Pippin and Frodo both.

"Now, Merry. I can't wait," Pippin begged. Merry took his hand away and lowered himself atop Pip, making sure Frodo had a good line of sight. He slowly pushed his way inside each movement forward brought pleads and gasps from Pippin beneath. Frodo breathing was ragged; he stoked himself and was almost there over the top. He come close to coming twice-- both times stopping and panting. This was all too much to see his friends like this. Merry thrusting harder into Pippin. By the look of them, Frodo knew they were both close. Sweat dripped from Merry's brow and both bodies shimmered. He saw Merry's hand grasp Pippin's hard shaft and pump it in time with his thrusts. That was enough for Pip. He cried out-- and with that Merry came-- capturing Pippin's mouth, whispering quiet words of love.

They both collapsed together-- a bundle of sweat and sticky sweetness. Pippin lifted his head and looked at Frodo, who still had himself in hand in a very aroused state.

He was hard. Harder than he'd ever felt before. He guessed prolonging his excitement wasn't such a good idea. He'd yet to come.

Merry gasped, "Enough, this time is for you, Frodo. Lay back." Frodo obeyed.

"Do you mind if I help you out with that?" asked Pippin.

"No, please do," Frodo said in a quiet voice. "But please, no teasing." Pippin crawled over to Frodo with a sly grin on his face and wasted no time. Frodo closed his eyes as Pippin sucked Frodo deep into his mouth. He'd never felt this before and wished this would go slower. Pippin felt so good. His mouth so soft and tight around him. He could see lights, crackling before him as his blood pounded to the spot where Pippin was showing all his loving attention. And what was he doing with his tongue? Frodo clutched at the sheets and rose his hips to meet Pippin hungry mouth, thrusting faster and faster, up and down his shaft. He was there. He could feel it. As he cried out, Merry kissed him deeply, tenderly. Please, let this moment last, he thought.

Then it was over.

As he lay spent, Pippin took him from his mouth and looked coyly up at him. "You are as delicious as you look Frodo Baggins."

"And tired too. I'm afraid you two have wrecked me," Frodo said with a yawn.

"Lay here with us, dear one," Merry invited. "We'll comfort any sadness that shall come your way before the break of day."

"If you want me to sing you to sleep, I will," said Pippin, tucking a curl behind Frodo's ear and snuggling closer.

"Please do," Frodo said. Then Pippin sang a sweet lullaby, and Frodo slipped his arms around them both and fell into deep slumbers.

No dreams, good or ill, passed through Frodo that night.