Guest author Magickal Molly


Sam sat in the big chair in front of the fire and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. Sighing, he kept his eyes closed as he let his arms drop, leaning back into the chair’s softness. He tried to relax. The day had been long, but happy, and according to several of the older male hobbits of the Shire the ‘best was yet to come’. He knew what they meant as they had nudged and winked at him; the wedding night was suppose to be more fun for the groom than the wedding day. A smile played across Sam’s lips as that entered his brain. The wedding. His wedding. He was married!

Partly to distract himself and partly because he still couldn’t believe it, Sam let the events of the day drift through his mind. His father waking him early and helping him get dressed; fussing over Sam’s attire and spouting bits of husbandly advice while blushing with embarrassment. Arriving at Party Field and seeing how it had been decorated for the occasion; garlands of flowers and ribbons all around. Shaking the hands of more hobbits then he even knew, all wishing him well.

And Rose. His sweet Rosie, dressed in his favorite shade of blue as she made her way down the aisle to stand by him and take his hand in the afternoon sunshine. She wore flowers in her hair that Sam himself had grown and cut for her. Her face was smiling and sure, her voice steady as she spoke her vows, her lips soft as she had kissed him then laughed, overcome with happiness. And Mr. Frodo had been there through it all, looking pale but in good spirits.

Sam’s forehead creased as he thought of Frodo now. Frodo encouraging Sam to marry Rosie, inviting them both to live with him at Bag End. He didn’t understand Frodo’s generosity. Frodo had insisted that Bag End was far too large for just himself and wanted to repay Sam for all he had done for him. Sam still felt he was the one to be thanking Frodo.

Unbidden, their night in Rivendale replayed in his mind. Sam had been overcome with happiness at finding Frodo alive and well and had all but leapt into his arms. Frodo had been deeply touched at Sam’s reaction. Grateful embraces had turned into shy caresses. Bolder touches had melted into breathless kisses. And deep in the night, clinging together, they had revealed their love for one another. Sam felt it was this declaration alone that had given them the strength to complete their quest.

But once the Ring had been destroyed, Frodo had been too weak to do anything more than hold Sam’s hand and look upon him with grateful, yet haunted eyes and sleep curled against him. They didn’t speak much on the journey home, and neither of them had spoken of Rivendale since.

Back home, finding the Shire in ruins had put all thoughts of desire out of Sam’s mind, save for the desire to restore his home to its former beauty. Bag End had been reinstated and given back to Frodo; Sam’s box of earth from Galadriel had worked magic on the fields and trees. And through it all Rosie had taken care of not only Frodo, for he was still often weak and ill, but of Sam himself. Sam had no thought of making sure he kept himself fed or clean. Rosie was always there with hot food and clean shirts, and more importantly, sweet smiles and gentle touches.

Before he knew what had happened, Sam had proposed to Rosie, a sudden deep need for a wife and children consuming him. And he loved her. There was no question of that. He supposed he had always loved her, as they had grown up together and were so alike. Both of large loving families, deeply connected with the earth, sharing many interests. Aside from Frodo, Rosie had always been someone Sam could talk to, or not, and she understood him. It seemed the most natural thing in the world when he asked her to share the rest of her life with him.

‘But what of Mr. Frodo?’ Sam now thought to himself. He was still in love with him. Very much. He didn’t love Rosie any less for it, but was troubled at what would come of his relationship with Frodo now that he had taken a wife. Once Frodo was recovered and well again, how would he feel? The wedding had seemed to happen so fast that Sam had not the opportunity to speak with Frodo about it. And now he was gone for the night, so the newlyweds might have some privacy, and Sam didn’t know how he felt about that.

“Samwise…” Rosie’s soft voice broke his thoughts. Opening his eyes, Sam was surprised to see Rosie sitting across from him. He wondered, embarrassed, how long she had been there. But then he took in the sight of her, his new wife, and couldn’t suppress a smile of delight. She had left him to sit by the fire to ‘freshen up’, as she had put it. She had unbound her golden hair, and it hung long across her shoulders and down her back. She wore only a gauzy chemise in soft blue with full sleeves and a deep neckline. The light from the fire licked across her smiling face, setting her light hair aglow.

Sam swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. “Rosie…” he breathed. “You…you look wonderful…” His voice was no more than a whisper, but his words sent a shiver down Rosie’s back as she watched his eyes roam freely over her full form.

Standing, with a smile playing across her lips, Rosie stood and resettled herself in Sam’s lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck loosely and rested her head on his shoulder.

“There now, that’s better. Don’t you agree, husband?” Sam’s reply was to wrap his arms around Rosie’s waist and snuggle her close against him. He buried his face in her hair, breathing her in. She smelled like sunshine.

Not moving from Sam’s shoulder, Rosie said, “Tell me what’s troubling you, Sam.” Her voice was still soft, but there was a note of worry in it as well. When Sam didn’t reply, she looked up.

Sam stared deeply into Rosie’s clear green eyes, then sighed and gazed at the fire. ‘There’s no use lying to her’ Sam thought to himself. Pulling her back to him he kissed the top of her head. “I don’t rightly know how to tell you, Rose, for I don’t understand it all myself.”

“You’re concerned about Mr. Frodo.” Sam flinched, ‘How does she do that?’ he thought incredulously. Feeling his body stiffen, Rosie knew she was right.

“Aye, Mr. Frodo…I…that is…” Sam trailed off, unsure of how he should tell her.

Rosie looked up again, studying Sam’s face for a long moment. “You love him.” She said at last. It wasn’t a question; she knew it to be true. Sam only stared; he didn’t know what to say.

Seeing that Sam was still unable or unwilling to talk, Rosie continued. “You love him and you are concerned about your relationship with him now that you and I have married.”

Sam, eager to reassure his new bride, finally found his voice. “Oh, Rosie, I love you with all of my heart. Please-” but Rosie cut him off, placing her fingertips over his lips.

“Sam; I don’t understand what the two of you went through on your journey; I don’t care to. That is between you and Mr. Frodo. But now you two are bound to each other. How could I possibly ask you to give that up? I know you well, Sam, better than you probably know yourself, and I know that you have enough room in your heart to love us both.”

Sam sat dumbfounded for a moment, and then found his voice again. “So, you know my feelings for Mr. Frodo and know that I love you no less because of it?”

“I would not have married you otherwise.” Rosie smiled, and then paused, picking her next words with care. “Me and Mr. Frodo spent a lot time together when he was sick or when you were away. I love him too, Sam. I love him not only because of the fine and gentlehobbit he is, but also because of how much he loves you. And he needs us. I want the three of us to share our lives together.”

Sam, overcome with delight, swept Rosie up into his arms and kissed her. “Oh Rosie!” he exclaimed as their lips separated. “You don’t know how happy you’ve made me. I can’t believe this is happening…you…you’re really all right with this?”

Rosie didn’t answer, but untangled herself from Sam’s lap and stood up. “Come with me, husband,” She held her hand out to him. Sam clasped it firmly and stood up. Looking at his new wife, he was surprised to see that her eyes had darkened with desire. “I haven’t given you your wedding present yet.”

Rosie led Sam down the hallway to the main bedchamber, his question forgotten. The chamber had been Bilbo’s when he still lived at Bag End, and after Bilbo had left Frodo had never found a reason to move out of his own chamber and into it. When it had been agreed upon that Sam and Rosie would live at Bag End, Frodo insisted they take the spacious chamber, rationalizing that they would need it more than he.

Sam could see that bedroom candles were lit, their warm glow illuminating the hallway. He followed Rosie, grinning like a bit of a fool as he went. Excitement tingled through his body, despite his earlier concerns; this was, after all, his wedding night, and he was eager to learn all about his new wife.

Entering the room, the first thing Sam learned about his new wife was that she was devastatingly sneaky. Sitting on the bed, dressed in only a deep blue nightshirt, was Frodo. Sam stopped in the doorway, stunned. Rosie pulled a bit at his hand, but couldn’t move the stout hobbit. He was rooted in place.

Frodo, his eyes sapphire in the candlelight, looked from Sam to Rosie and back again. He seemed a bit stunned as well. Rosie silently encouraged Frodo to speak.

“Hullo, Sam…” Frodo’s voice was soft, but it carried across the small space of the room and hit Sam in the chest with a great force. Sam’s suddenly couldn’t breathe and his mind was spinning. Rosie had known all along about his feelings for Frodo- she had arranged this. And now, here, in his marriage bed sat Frodo. He was painfully beautiful to Sam, sitting on the bed. It reminded Sam of how he had looked in Rivendale. A flush spread across Frodo’s pale cheeks; he was thinking the same thing.

Rosie watched the silent exchange with interest. She could almost feel the energy between two hobbits, and she smiled, silently patting herself on the back.

Rosie decided it was time to break the silence. She moved across the room to Frodo and sat on the bed next to him. Placing her arm around Frodo’s shoulders, she crinkled her nose up in a naughty grin and said, “Surprise.”

Sam opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He knew he must look like a codfish gaping at them, but he didn’t know what to say. Heart beating wildly in his chest, Sam looked at the two hobbits he loved more than anything staring back at him, waiting for him. Rosie was still grinning her wicked little smirk and Frodo was blushing, but his eyes danced merrily.

Not knowing what else to do, Sam began to laugh silently. His body shook as he tried to stop himself, but trying to stop only made it worse. Thinking that possibly he had snapped, both Frodo and Rosie rushed to Sam’s side as he lurched against the doorframe, his eyes squeezed tight and his arms around his middle. Sucking in a deep breath as they touched him, Sam was overcome with gales of laughter, and threw his head back. Rosie and Frodo were soon laughing too, giddy with relief. They helped Sam to his feet and made him sit on the bed as he struggled to catch his breath.

Wiping his eyes with his sleeve, Sam looked up to Rosie and Frodo, both of whom were standing above him. “’orry…s-orry…” he managed to choke out between snorts and labored breath. Frodo reached out and placed a hand on Sam’s quivering shoulder.

“Are you all right?” Frodo’s concern took the last of Sam’s giggles away.

“Aye, Mr. Frodo…just overcome with a bit o’ giddiness at all of this. I’m a mite surprised, if you take my meaning.” Frodo smiled, cupping his palm against Sam’s flushed cheek.

“Yet you’re happy?” Frodo was concerned for Sam’s feelings about him being here. This was, after all, Sam and Rosie’s wedding night.

For an answer, Sam turned his head and kissed Frodo’s palm, then placed it back against his cheek, covering it with his own. “Aye, Mr. Frodo…I am. I don’t think I have ever been happier.” With his other hand Sam reached out to Rosie. He circled her waist and pulled her close. Frodo and Rosie closed the circle and the three of them just held each other for a long moment, feeling and smelling and experiencing each other.

Rosie was the first to pull away, eager to move on from cuddling. Taking Frodo’s hand, she moved them away a step from Sam and the bed. “Now just lie back, Sam; I haven’t finished giving you your present yet.” Not sure what she would so, but eager nonetheless, Sam scooted onto the bed fully and lay on his side, propping himself up on his elbow.

What Sam saw next made his breath catch in his throat. Rosie reached up and, tangling her fingers into Frodo’s dark hair, pulled Frodo’s mouth to hers and kissed him. The kiss was shy, gentle, but it didn’t stay that way for long. Frodo snaked his arms out and around Rosie’s waist. Their bodies moved closer, pressing from chest to hip. Sam watched, fascinated, as Frodo leaned deeply into Rosie’s mouth and pressed her tighter against him.

Sam could feel himself growing aroused as he watched, but he was also mesmerized by how the two looked together. Rosie was all a hobbit lass should be; sun streaked and brown, well rounded and curved in all the right places. Frodo was the complete opposite; dark haired and moonlit skinned, lithe and lean limbed. They were so different, yet complemented each other perfectly. Sam had never seen anything so beautiful in his entire life.

As Sam continued to watch, Rosie began to unbutton Frodo’s nightshirt. She sneaked a glance at Sam as she worked; he was slack jawed and breathing heavily, his hazel eyes having turned deep green with desire. Grinning wickedly to herself, Rosie began to trail little kissed across Frodo’s jaw and down his throat. Frodo’s head dropped back and moaned out loud as he held onto Rosie for support; his knees had suddenly grown weak. Sam whimpered on the bed, his groin tightening painfully.

Rosie finished opening all the buttons and pulled away from Frodo’s embrace. She moved behind him and, gazing directly at Sam over Frodo’s shoulder, slipped the nightshirt sensuously down Frodo’s arms, letting her hands trail down his flushed skin. It fell to the floor in a whisper of silk.

Both Rosie and Frodo stared at Sam. Sam took in the scene before him, shaking with need, but not wanting to move for fear of Rosie or Frodo stopping. Rosie’s hands began to busy themselves on Frodo’s exposed flesh. Around his waist, she let her palms caress his stomach and chest, gently brushing against his nipples with her fingers. Frodo leaned back into her, eyes burning into Sam’s as he panted for breath. Sam pressed the back of his hand against his mouth to keep from crying out as he watched.

Sam could see now that Frodo was fully aroused as Rosie teased him from behind. She kissed his neck and shoulder, letting her hands roam freely over his body. But she never took her eyes off of Sam. She was a little surprised that he was still on the bed. Her and Frodo were only a step away, yet he stayed there. She could see that he was aroused as Frodo and wondered faintly why he didn’t join them.

Pulling away from Frodo again, Rosie stood before them both and slipped her nightgown over her head. Maybe a bit more encouragement was needed. She was now as naked as Frodo and waited eagerly to see what Sam would do. But Frodo, not wanting to wait, reached for Sam and pulled him off the bed. “Come here,” Frodo’s voice was rough with desire, but his hand, though firm, was gentle on Sam’s wrist.

Frodo directed Sam to stand before Rosie. Behind him, Frodo gripped his hands on Sam’s shoulders. “Look at her Sam.” Frodo whispered in Sam’s ear. Sam shuddered as Frodo’s hot breath moistened his neck. Sam’s gaze raked over Rosie’s exposed flesh. She was stunning and Sam nearly swooned with desire. Frodo let his hands wander across Sam’s back as he continued. “She’s so beautiful; oh, Sam, you’re both so beautiful…” Frodo kissed Sam behind his ear.

Rosie moved closer and Sam took her into his arms. Sam claimed her lips hungrily, overcome with want. Frodo continued to kiss Sam’s neck and ear, rubbing against his back. Sam thought he would come right then, and moaned raggedly into Rosie’s mouth. Her tongue was against his as her deft fingers unbuttoned his shirt. Sooner than he thought it could be done, Frodo and Rosie had Sam completely undressed. They both pressed him back into the bed eagerly, covering his body with both of theirs.

Sam was lost in a blind haze of yearning. He didn’t know where Frodo’s kisses ended and Rosie’s began. Their hands and lips were everywhere on his body as he held them close to him. Both bodies felt so different against him, and yet both so right. His heart was near to bursting with love as his body was near to bursting with need. Sam felt as if he held the Sun and the Moon themselves and was overcome with the need to never let either of them go.

Before he knew how it happened, Sam was covering Rosie with his body, filling her with his desire, and Sam could feel Frodo, moaning and kissing and pressed against them both. Rosie and Sam held Frodo close as they moved against each other, all kissing and caressing, whispering sweet words of endearments to each other deep into the night.

Sam didn’t know how much longer it was when they had finally had fallen together in an exhausted heap, but the candles were low in their holders and both Frodo and Rosie were asleep, each damp and curly head on one of his shoulders. Rosie held Frodo’s hand firmly against Sam’s chest, their fingers intertwined. Sam laughed softly at this, still giddy with happiness, and kissed both of his lovers sweetly on their soft and untroubled brows.

Noticing Frodo’s missing finger reminded Sam of all they had been through, but now, in the deep of the night with these sweet bodies pressed heavily against him, it seemed a thousand miles away. Last year had been bad…horrible. “But this,” Sam whispered as he kissed Frodo and Rosie again, “this is starting out to be a pretty good year.” Sam’s eyes finally slipped closed and a moment later, he was asleep.

~

Pretty Good Year | contact Molly