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dancingsparks · 5 years

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If you love something, set it free

All @urfavpendeja ‘s fault, so no Drarry this time but gay hobbits.

Also on Ao3

Frodo watched Sam dance with Rosie. They made a beautiful couple, everyone said so. Sam looked stout as always, blond curls falling in his face as he twirled her around and laughed, loud and free. It wasn’t unusual to hear him laugh like that anymore, but Frodo still remembered the days when not even Sam could laugh. Thoughts like that always made him shudder, violently throwing him back into the blank, all-consuming darkness, made his shoulder wound ache and fill his heart with longing for something long destroyed. He searches, increasingly frantically, for the ring that should be on the chain around his neck but isn’t, that is gone, heart beating faster and faster, when Sam’s laugh startles him out of his panic.

He is back again, back in the Shire, surrounded by music and dance, back with Sam, dancing and laughing and living and being happy. And suddenly, it’s all too much. The music too loud, the hobbits too many, the air too warm. Frodo needed to get away, needed to breathe, needed Sam. But Sam is with Rosie, finally unburdened and living his own life. Frodo can’t take that from him, he won’t take it away.

He abruptly stood up, toppling over his drink and upsetting several hobbits, pushing down the rows before finally breaking free. The evening air was cold around him, chilling and clearing his head. He quickly started to walk, intending to put some distance between himself and the raucous activity of the feast. There was no need to ruin everyone else’s mood on such a splendid occasion.

His feet automatically took him up the little hill to the spot where he would sit with Sam, smoking and enjoying the company. It feels wrong without Sam, lonely and cold. Frodo stays anyway.

From up here, he could see down to the dance floor where Sam was still dancing, oblivious to his inner turmoil. Frodo told himself that he’s glad about that, that he’s happy for Sam. But he couldn’t deny he wished Sam were up here with him instead of down there with her. Frodo never thought it possible to miss someone who wasn’t actually gone this much. But for all that Sam was there physically, he was miles away emotionally. He would never love Frodo the way he loved him, and it was about time he accepted that. Sam would be with Rosie; they would marry and start a family and his friend would finally be happy.

It worried Frodo if he was being honest. He didn’t like thinking like that, but sometimes he couldn’t help it. He vividly imagined Sam, at his wedding day, with his children, growing old and fat, telling stories to anyone who would listen. It’s a glorious future, one Sam always wanted and deserved, one Frodo doesn’t exist in. Sam would focus all his time and efforts on Rosie, on the things and people that bring him joy. Frodo had brought him enough misery to last a lifetime by dragging him on that dreadful journey into the heart of pure evil.

Sam would be better off without him. He might be staying with Frodo for the moment, but he could feel that things were different now. Sam was lost in thought, thinking about Rosie no doubt, smiling at nothing and being happy. It wasn’t fair for Frodo to keep Sam from pursuing his heart, it’s a selfish and desperate thing to do, clinging to the last shreds of loyalty Sam felt toward him. He knew Sam would never leave him, would feel obligated to stay even if he’d much rather spend his time with someone else. But Frodo knows he, himself, would take it, greedy for anything he could get, consuming Sam’s time and keeping it all for himself, as if he hadn’t stolen enough of it yet.

And that is why he has to send him away. He has been selfish long enough, and now Sam should be allowed to live his life, follow his dreams and build a future. He deserved it, and Frodo was keeping him back. Sam may not see it that way, will definitely protest, but Frodo knew it. And because Sam, sweet loyal Sam, would never leave on his own, Frodo had to make this choice for him. He would be upset at first, but it’d better for him in the long run. Frodo had to believe that, had to cling to the image of Sam finally being happy.

He would send him away. Next thing tomorrow, he would finally set him free. Men had a saying, “If you love something, set it free.” Frodo loved Sam, with his whole being and since the beginning of time, so he would set him free.

He couldn’t be here to watch it, though, couldn’t silently observe Sam’s life unfold and bloom, couldn’t hear his laugh only from afar or stare at his vacant garden every day wishing Sam were there. No, he would have to leave. He would have to go far away, and never come back. Surely, it would get easier with time, the pain and heartache would dull over the years. He knew he would never forget Sam, would never stop loving him, but maybe someday, he would learn to live with only half his heart.

Gandalf’s words came back to him now. How he should accompany him to Valinor, to the Undying Lands, with Bilbo and the last of the elves. It would be an honour, he said, that it would be fitting for him as ring-bearer. He hadn’t thought he would accept, would leave the world he fought so hard for behind. But without Sam, there was nothing holding him here.

He wished Sam would get his happy ending with his whole heart, but Frodo simply couldn’t stand by and watch it with a smile on his face. It had been hard enough to be supportive so far, and he couldn’t do it for a lifetime. Sam would live his life, would be happy. And for him to be happy, he needed Frodo to smile. He couldn’t do that anymore, so Frodo would leave with Gandalf and Bilbo for Valinor. It was basic, logical reasoning, flawless except for the pain it would cause.

He didn’t remember the exact date, but the last ship would leave soon. He should tell Sam now; he owed him an explanation that wasn’t rushed and at the last possible moment. But not telling him now meant Frodo would get a few more days to stay close to him, to make him laugh and pretend they could stay like this forever. It also meant a few more days of forced smiles, though well worth it in the end.

But here, engulfed by the darkness around him, no one could see his tears, so he let them fall freely. Frodo cried for the tomorrows that would never come, for the hurt expression Sam would surely have when he has to send him away, for the life of pronounced absence that waited for him.

This is how Sam found him, alone on their hill, head buried in his hands and sobs wrecking his body. Frodo noticed him too late, or he would have tried to stop the tears, put on a smile, and pretend. But he only noticed when Sam’s arms were around him, holding him tightly and pressing his face into his neck. Frodo wanted to protest, wanted to wipe away his tears and completely ignore his feelings, but Sam was so soft and smelled like heaven, safe and familiar. Before he consciously decided to, he relaxed into the hold and sobbed, wetting Sam’s clothes with his tears. Sam only made soothing noises, gently rubbing a hand down his back or petting his hair.

“Now, Mr. Frodo, what could possibly be wrong on a wonderful evening such as this? Who do I need to beat up?” Sam spoke gently, carefully, not wanting to upset Frodo again, but with such fierceness that he didn’t doubt for a second that he would do it. Even if he would much rather stay with Frodo, make sure he’s alright.

“Oh, Sam, my good Sam, there is nothing wrong, I promise. Just stay like that for a little longer, that is more than enough.” He knew he should get up, should distance himself and not make this harder than it already was. And he would, he would, if not for the pleasant rumble in Sam’s chest or the hand still playing with his hair. Frodo never wanted to move again, and at that moment, he didn’t have to. So, he snuggled closer.

“Keep talking, please?” It came out small, meek and unsure, but Sam just pressed a kiss on his head and started talking. Frodo couldn’t see him, as that would’ve required him to move his head, so he let Sam’s voice wash over him, raising and falling in waves, telling the tales of the stars.

“I will miss this the most, I think.” Frodo didn’t realise he had spoken until he felt Sam go still under him. It was only meant for himself, a quiet acknowledgment to what he was about to give up. But now Sam had heard, and it would be folly to believe Frodo could tell him anything but the truth. He could never lie to Sam.

“Miss it, Mr. Frodo? There’s no need to miss anything, we can do this all the time.” But he didn’t continue his story; he waited for Frodo to explain himself.

“I didn’t want to tell you yet, but I suppose now is as good a time as any.” He didn’t move away from Sam, treasuring the warmth as long as he still could, hiding. He took a deep breath, preparing for what he needed to do.

If you love something, set it free.

“I finished Bilbo’s book, you know. Wrote down every detail of our great adventure, every single time you saved my life or brought me hope when I wanted to give up. I wouldn’t have made it without you, Sam. I need you to remember that, to remember me.

“I am leaving, Sam. We set out to save the Shire, and save it we did, but I don’t belong here anymore. I have nothing to return to, nothing holding me. The elves offered to take me to Valinor with Gandalf and Bilbo. I will go with them, soon, and I won’t return.

“I would love to stay for your wedding, to watch your children grow up and see you grow old Sam, I really would. I understand if you are angry now, but I would beg you, my dear Sam, not to be. I don’t want to spend our last days together fighting.”

Frodo didn’t dare look up, couldn’t bear to see the anger, or worse, the hurt in Sam’s eyes. It was bad enough to feel how still he was, his hand tangled in his hair but not moving anymore, the rumbling of his voice no longer there. Frodo didn’t move either, didn’t want to break fragile last moment before he would be confronted with the grief he caused. But he had to stay strong, for Sam.

“You are making fun, Mr. Frodo. But I don’t think it’s funny, no, not funny at all.” Sam sounded odd, void of the usual passion and warmth. He kept talking though, quickly gaining vigour.

“You are not making sense, talking of my wedding and yet you not being there, how is that possible, I ask you? I would look a right fool, all alone with you gone. But I would never be angry if you didn’t want that. I just beg you not to leave, to not even joke about such horrible things. For, while I may never forget you, I can’t even think of living my whole life with nothing but the memory of you. I don’t intend to ever let you go.” Sam held him closer now, pressed their bodies together, and all but whispered the last part, soft and fierce. It broke Frodo’s heart all over again.

“Oh, Sam, don’t you know how much I want that, how I wish to never be parted from you? But even more than that, I want you to be happy! You have been loyal to me long enough, suffered more for me than I ever could have asked, I will not take your future from you as well. I won’t keep you from marrying Rosie just so you can stay with me, and yet you are far too stubborn for your own good, so I will leave. You are not failing me by following your heart Sam, not even if it leads you away from me.” Frodo was crying again, clinging to Sam against his every intention. Soon now, he would be gone forever. Who could blame him for savouring this last contact?

Suddenly, Sam was moving, gently cupping his face and tilting it up, and their eyes finally met. Frodo found none of the hurt and anger he had expected; instead, Sam smiled in that way of his he could never interpret, though he’d dedicated countless hours to analysing it. Again, he could just stare up at Sam in wide-eyed wonder.

“You had me scared for a second there, more scared than the combined forces of evil. But how could you not know? I always thought you knew and were doing me a kindness by not mentioning it. I love you, Frodo. With my whole heart and soul do I love you, and I will marry no one but you if you will have me.”

Frodo kept staring, brain desperately trying to process what he had just heard, though deep in his heart, he always knew. He broke out laughing, relieved and free, as happy as he hadn’t been in too long, and surged up, throwing his arms around Sam, toppling them both over with the sudden motion.

Neither of them minded. For a moment they were nothing more than two young and stupid hobbits again, fooling around without a care in the world. Frodo felt none of the usual nostalgia, though. Nothing could compare to this moment right here and now.

Laughter trailed off, and Frodo found himself lying under Sam, looking up at his smiling face. The crushing grief he felt just moments ago was forgotten, chased away by Sam’s earnest words and a happy smile. He looked lovely, face framed by the night sky, no star even half as beautiful as his eyes. His curls were a mess, thanks to their brief stumble, but they looked incredibly soft, and Frodo neither had the desire nor the ability to stop himself from reaching out. He twirled the locks around his finger, running his hand through Sam’s hair, brushing against his ears to see him shudder. Sam was fascinating, and Frodo intended to study his every reaction, every sound and movement. His eyes fell down to Sam’s lips, slightly parted and chapped, they shouldn’t be as alluring as they were. But then, Sam always had held a certain charm, something that made him irresistible to Frodo.

What wanted to make Frodo listen to him when he lectured him about eating or paying attention when he was raving on about his plants, now made him long for a kiss.

Sam was practically purring, eyes closed, and head softly pressed up against Frodo’s hands whenever he deemed the pressure was too low or the pause was too long. He would have been content doing this, dedicating his life to keeping the expression of bliss on Sam’s face, and it would have been a good life. But then his mouth captured Frodo’s attention, casting the charm and shifting his focus.

Frodo gently pulled Sam down, closer to him, until their lips could almost touch and they breathed the same air. This close he could count Sam’s freckles, even in the darkness. He had always loved them, wanted to memorise every single one of them, wanted to connect and trace them. Slowly Frodo slid one hand from his hair, rested it against his face, and thumbed over the freckles on his cheekbones. Sam’s eyes stayed open this time, watching as Frodo cupped his face with both his hands.

He could hardly remember how he ever thought he could let Sam go. “If you love it, set it free” that’s what they say. Suddenly he remembers, the saying doesn’t end there.

If you love something, set it free. If it comes back, it’s yours.

Frodo preferred it this way. He smiled up at Sam, meeting his eyes, and found the same unspoken desires reflected in them.

“May I kiss you, my dear, lovely Sam?”

#LOTR #samfro #sam/frodo #fluff #my writing

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