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Dec. 22nd, 2004 03:17 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
starlikeshadow.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
lotr_sesaTitle: Looking After Samwise.
Rating: PG
Pairing: F/S
Disclaimer: Not true, not mine.
A/N: Beta'd by my darling![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
magikalcrab for the Lotr Sesa challenge Requested by elgato_gamgins. I offer a simple slice of life snapshot. I hope you enjoy!
Terribly inappropriate though it may have been, Mr. Frodo would rise, pull on his breeches and then pad through Bag End, with naught else on, oblivious to the chill in the air, or what wandering eyes might spy his journey through the house.
It was as if the rising sun brought him to life.
He’d place his palms onto the windowsill, and open a window, his face playing hide and seek with the billowing curtains. Across the gentle hills, the first blush would creep, and with his shoulders taunt, Mr. Frodo would wait.
He would wait for the dawn.
And Sam would watch him.
On the sun would rise, shards of light piercing gaps in curtains, crawling across the blue grasses, and up the sides of hobbit holes. A glow would fall upon Frodo’s face inch by inch, blue grey shadows losing to the blinding light, against a creamy backdrop of skin. Frodo would open his mouth just a little, tiny pink flash wetting supple lips, and Sam would feel his heart flutter, feel his stomach burn.
But still he would watch him.
The sunlight would fall upon his chestnut curls, slide across the frail bare shoulders like silk, and then burn the wall behind him, until the room was aglow, and shining. Fine vases and glassware would glitter like jewels, and the colored speckles would spatter across Frodo’s shoulders. The light would feel warm against his cool skin too, Samwise knew, and it was all he could do not to touch it.
He daren’t touch him.
Frodo’s own hands would spring to life then, slide across his collarbone, and down the gentle dip in his chest, and rest lightly on his slightly rounded belly, drumming his fingers. Outside the Shire would continue to be bathed in sunshine, flowers would being to unfurl, and turn their faces to the heavens just as Frodo would tilt his head up, and let a smile fall upon his face.
In the distance someone would dare to break the silence, a door would creak open and the sound of slippers scuffing against dirt would be loud in the valley. The sunlight would pour on, through every crack of darkness, until at last Bag End was golden, and outside in Hobbiton, everything was illuminated.
Frodo wouldn’t leave yet. He’d wait just a few more moments, his face fallen in a curious expression, one Sam hadn’t learned a name for.
And still Samwise would watch. He would hunger for more than a proper breakfast, but he’d deny himself that feast, lest his mind wander and his day begin full of wanton fantasies. He’d done as much before, found himself dreaming of a simple touch the brush of the pads of his fingertips along the sharp edges of Frodo’s shoulder blades and the dip of his spine.
But that thought would never be finished. Viciously he’d know his hands would be ungainly against the perfect canvas of Frodo’s skin, and the burn in his core would consume Frodo, until all was left but gossamer dust, which would blow away in the autumn wind.
Better to enjoy the view, even if it was from afar.
Sensing Frodo’s morning routine was soon to end Sam would turn away slowly, and dive into his duties. He had a fire to stoke, a meal to prepare, and the hedges were starting to look untidy.
And as he left his master would turn from his reverie, swallowing down the bite of disappointment, looking after Samwise.
One day Frodo prayed. One day, he’ll join me.
Rating: PG
Pairing: F/S
Disclaimer: Not true, not mine.
A/N: Beta'd by my darling
magikalcrab for the Lotr Sesa challenge Requested by elgato_gamgins. I offer a simple slice of life snapshot. I hope you enjoy! Terribly inappropriate though it may have been, Mr. Frodo would rise, pull on his breeches and then pad through Bag End, with naught else on, oblivious to the chill in the air, or what wandering eyes might spy his journey through the house.
It was as if the rising sun brought him to life.
He’d place his palms onto the windowsill, and open a window, his face playing hide and seek with the billowing curtains. Across the gentle hills, the first blush would creep, and with his shoulders taunt, Mr. Frodo would wait.
He would wait for the dawn.
And Sam would watch him.
On the sun would rise, shards of light piercing gaps in curtains, crawling across the blue grasses, and up the sides of hobbit holes. A glow would fall upon Frodo’s face inch by inch, blue grey shadows losing to the blinding light, against a creamy backdrop of skin. Frodo would open his mouth just a little, tiny pink flash wetting supple lips, and Sam would feel his heart flutter, feel his stomach burn.
But still he would watch him.
The sunlight would fall upon his chestnut curls, slide across the frail bare shoulders like silk, and then burn the wall behind him, until the room was aglow, and shining. Fine vases and glassware would glitter like jewels, and the colored speckles would spatter across Frodo’s shoulders. The light would feel warm against his cool skin too, Samwise knew, and it was all he could do not to touch it.
He daren’t touch him.
Frodo’s own hands would spring to life then, slide across his collarbone, and down the gentle dip in his chest, and rest lightly on his slightly rounded belly, drumming his fingers. Outside the Shire would continue to be bathed in sunshine, flowers would being to unfurl, and turn their faces to the heavens just as Frodo would tilt his head up, and let a smile fall upon his face.
In the distance someone would dare to break the silence, a door would creak open and the sound of slippers scuffing against dirt would be loud in the valley. The sunlight would pour on, through every crack of darkness, until at last Bag End was golden, and outside in Hobbiton, everything was illuminated.
Frodo wouldn’t leave yet. He’d wait just a few more moments, his face fallen in a curious expression, one Sam hadn’t learned a name for.
And still Samwise would watch. He would hunger for more than a proper breakfast, but he’d deny himself that feast, lest his mind wander and his day begin full of wanton fantasies. He’d done as much before, found himself dreaming of a simple touch the brush of the pads of his fingertips along the sharp edges of Frodo’s shoulder blades and the dip of his spine.
But that thought would never be finished. Viciously he’d know his hands would be ungainly against the perfect canvas of Frodo’s skin, and the burn in his core would consume Frodo, until all was left but gossamer dust, which would blow away in the autumn wind.
Better to enjoy the view, even if it was from afar.
Sensing Frodo’s morning routine was soon to end Sam would turn away slowly, and dive into his duties. He had a fire to stoke, a meal to prepare, and the hedges were starting to look untidy.
And as he left his master would turn from his reverie, swallowing down the bite of disappointment, looking after Samwise.
One day Frodo prayed. One day, he’ll join me.
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no subject
Date: 2004-12-24 04:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-12-24 05:39 pm (UTC)