Summer brought ripened fruits and hollyhock and giggles of children by the pond. It brought lovers on walks and campfires at dusk. It also brought Samwise Gamgee a hell of a lot of work.

Weeds sprouted like rockets around hobbit holes, and Sam felt himself growing worse for wear at his practice. He would often get angry hobbits at his door demanding why on earth they paid for such lousy landscaping, or how could you possibly have missed the dandelions by the water barrels?

Sam couldn’t say that this wasn’t his fault; after all, it was him doing the sloppy yard working jobs, but he found it easier to put all the blame on Frodo. Perhaps not Frodo himself, but more so the lack of his lover which caused Sam to demonstrate cursory work. While the landscape gained more chickweed and crabgrass, Sam was losing motivation. He knew Frodo wouldn’t mind taking the blame, though. In fact, if Frodo were still here, he would most likely tell Sam to pass said blame right on to his shoulders.

He told himself he would return to the Shire and work hard, dedicate himself to his hobbies, hell, maybe he’d even travel, but he found that life returned to it’s dullness faster than he expected. Sailing to the West was a big deal. It meant turning your back on everything you are and beginning life anew with others you do not know. It would be hard to leave behind Merry and Pippin and others he loved. It would be heartbreaking to turn away from the Shire and know that he could never return to it’s willow trees and rolling hills, but he began to think of the wilderness that would welcome his tilling hands in Valinor. As days turned to weeks turned to years, he began to imagine a fresh start, a new world, a change. A life with Frodo without anything in the way.

Unknowingly to Sam, every day spent in Middle-Earth was becoming a countdown for him.

His footsteps became heavier, feeling like they could go right through the floorboards when he stepped down. His lips became that of a pout which he would need to manually adjust when he caught the eye of another. He stopped looking at his calendar, as if to be hidden from the how long has it been since I’ve seen you, love mantra in his ears.

On a warm day in July, Sam arose from his bed and groaned as his shoulder ached from yesterday’s work. His schedule was typical today, which meant that it was completely full without much downtime. That’s how he liked it, though; it kept his mind as busy as it could be. He felt heavy, there was an invisible weight gripping his ankles and telling him it was time to go. Not to work, however, to go home.

For the first time in his life, Hobbiton didn’t feel like home anymore.

This weight grew heavier on his walk to his first job of the day. His shoulders felt like they were sagging into the ground and his knees tried to pull him in another direction. He tried to shake it off, but his mind kept planting the seeds of Frodo every time he tried to think of something else.

Pulling gentle weeds from the ground made his strong arms shake and weaken. A few rubs to the face and positive words were of no use in this instance. He couldn’t do it.

He looked over a field of dandelions, a great yellow sea he would need to drain before the set of the sun, and it felt impossible. It was impossible. This place was not home; these lands were now more foreign than places he had never been.

The lightening of his body began once he shed his work belt and shears. It continued as he decided once and for all, Hobbiton would be left behind.

Frodo, dear Frodo, I hear you. I know. I’m coming.

He knew that his beloved was where he needed to be, with no more stalling or delays or waiting. It felt as if Frodo himself was calling to him, telling him that it was time to return to his arms. Frodo was his home, and if Frodo was in Valinor, then Valinor was home.

He was smiling, the weight was gone, and he didn’t think before his feet took off to the West, down the road and through the tall grass. The scorching sun and sharp wind across his face didn’t stop him from going to where he so desperately needed to be.

And so, with the lightness of a feather and a laugh from his lips, Samwise Gamgee ran.

Frodo watched as the sunlight streaming through the windows made the gold in Sam’s hair shine. He was a beautiful hobbit. A wonderful hobbit, really. Perfectly helpful, and kind, and strong in all the ways one could be. Frodo was lucky to have a place in his life.

But he didn't deserve Sam’s attention.

“What are you doing, Sam?”

The humming stopped as Sam stood still for a moment before shooting Frodo a amused gaze. “Well, making us dinner o’ course.” He stated with a smile.

Frodo tried again, “Why? Why do you do all this for me?”

The hurt look he was met with was one he should have expected. “D’you not want me here?”

“That's not it.” Frodo sighed. “You could be spending your days doing so many other things, and yet you're wasting them taking care of me.” The hurt look took an edge to it. “Listen, please. You’re meant for more than just dealing with me. Don't you want to find a lass to settle down with? What about Rosie? Have you even spoken to her since we returned to the Shire?”

Sam’s brow was furrowed in one of those stubborn expresions he was known to wear when particularly impassioned.”You ought to know by now i don't do nothing i don't want to be doing. If I wanted to go find a lass or sweet talk Rosie I’d be doing it.” he said with finality.

The room was tense, and Frodo hated to be the cause of it. But he knew Sam deserved better than this. “And how long will that last? You can't just coddle me forever. You’ll tire of me eventually...” Frodo trailed off when the lump formed in his throat.

“I won't.”

Frod looked back up at Sam, and the earnestness in those eyes just made the lump grow. “How are you so sure?”

Sam hesitated, and his shoulders slumped but he didn't look away. “Do you not know?”

That made Frodo pause, and his heart sped up. “Know what?”

He waited quietly as Sam stepped closer, and kneeled down in front of Frodo’s chair. There was a stillness about them as Sam held eye contact with a vulnerable, determined air to him.

“I’m in love with you."

And Frodo’s heart stopped.

Sam continued on, “I don’t want Rosie or any other lass. I don't want to be anywhere but right here if you’ll still let me. I know you don't feel the same and that’s okay, but I don't want you believing that-” but he was cut off by Frodo leaning in to press a kiss to his lips. He couldn't let Sam think that for a second longer.

It was quick and off center, but it successfully stopped Sam in his tracks.

“You…?”

Frodo simply smiled, “Yes.” He trailed his fingers across Sam’s cheek. “I don't yet understand why you would, but I love you, my dear Sam.”

And it was his turn to be kissed, but this one wasn't in haste. He was pulled nearly out of his chair as Sam caught his mouth firmly.

“Don't you dare say that,” was whispered fiercly against his lips as hands grasped at his hair. “You deserve more than I can give you, but that won't stop me from trying.”

Any protests Frodo might have had were swallowed up by the desperate press against him, and he automatically opened his mouth up to Sam. The tongue that licked itns way in was instant and the keen ripped from his throat surprised Frodo himself. His pulse rushed in his ears and every sensation was Sam, Sam, Sam.

His Sam.

He managed to choke out an, “I love you,” and an involuntary whimper escaped him when Sam pulled back slightly. His eyes fluttered open when he felt a thumb stroke his cheek, and it was only then that he noticed the dampness there.

“I’ve got you,” Sam whispered, his eyes full of an adoration that was hard to face, “and I’m not letting you go without a fight. Not unless you truly want me to.”

Frodo shook his head, and Sam’s smile was radiant.

“Good.”