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lobelia321Title: A Little While At Least
Author: Lobelia;![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lobelia321
Fandom: Lord of the Rings fps
Pairing: Sam / Frodo
Rating: 15; PG-13
Length: 1, 180 words.
Category: Historical document from the handwritten archives of Lobelia.
Date of document: 24 January 2002.
Canon: Given the date, it may be seen that this is total and utter Book Canon!
Type of document: First fanfic ever, ever written in my life!
Handwritten in pencil, on 3 sheets of lined A-4 paper, while sitting in the University Library tearoom. I remember that my heart was beating the entire time I wrote this!
Author's important notes: This fic is posted here for purposes of historical record-keeping. Inspired by reading a 1979 Kirk/Spock fic yesterday and inspired by finding the very first fic I ever wrote (and never posted) among a pile of notes and fics, I decided to type this up so that, if I ever lose these pieces of paper, I will have a web record of their existence.
Editorial notes: I have kept in some of my deletions because it interests me what decisions I made back then. I have also retained the idiosyncratic punctuation, the appalling misuse of the verb 'lay', the overlong paragraphs, the interminable sentences, and other faults.
Category: This is a kind of melodramatic hurt/comfort but it tips over into unintentional crack at one point.
Summary: Sam felt a warm bulge grow in his breeches, and as he prolonged the kiss, an answering bulge.
If you're interested in the first fanfic I ever properly typed up and sent out to beta: that was Lotrips, Orlando/Dominic, Moon Madness, finished on 7 February 2002. Within 2 ½ weeks of the Sam/Frodo one. Oh ladies, I was hooked.
A little while at least
by Lobelia
Dusk was settling down. All about them, the air hung heavy with soot and smoke. Red spumes from the mountain and further away lit up the atmosphere and cast a lurid ghastly glow over the ravaged land and on the two hobbits' skins.
"It's time to rest", said Sam, and Frodo dropped down as if dead.
Sam sat down next to him and moved his gaze from the desolate landscape to the tiny, crooked gorse bush that was all the shelter they had. He then looked at Frodo's face, and it looked exhausted, pinched and pale, despite the lurid tinge from the far-off flames. His eyes rolled restlessly under his half-closed lids, and his hands twitched on the ground beside him. Sam took hold of Frodo's left hand. Despite the miasmic heat rising from the earth, it was cold as ice. He lifted Frodo's other wrist; it, too, was chill but the pulse under the skin was racing.
"Mister Frodo", Sam whispered, and lay his palms against his master's cheeks. They were clammy and as if drenched of blood. Oh, why had they left the blankets behind? "Fool, Samwise Gamgee, fool are you," muttered Sam, "well, we must keep warm as we can," and he covered Frodo with his own body and chafed his hands and cupped his cheeks face in his palms, but Frodo neither woke nor warmed. Then Sam felt a stab of fear and cried softly,
"Frod, me dear, don't leave me now, stay with me... me dear, me luv..." Still Frodo looked eerily remote in the firelight; his skin smeared and bruised and chill to the touch. "Me dear, me luv" repeated Sam helplessly and, in desperation and loneliness, pressed his warm lips against Frodo's forehead, then against his eyelids, his temples and cheeks and the corners of his mouth. And then he let them fall on Frodo's lips; and finally, his dear master stirred and opened his eyes and croaked, "Sam."
"Yes, dear Frodo", said Sam, and almost sobbed with gratitude.
"Sam, it's almost more than I can bear", whispered Frodo, "I see almost nothing now except that ring of fire, and it grows every day, and it burns me up from inside."
"Yet you are froze as ice", said Sam.
"It will kill me before the end", said Frodo, "if I could only forget it for a moment, just one moment. But I can't, I can't."
Then something occurred to Sam, and at this moment it seemed like the one good thing in a world of fear and despair, a tiny warm flame spark to keep Evil at bay for just a few moments. He didn't know where and how this thought came to him, but before he could ponder it, he had bent his face close to Frodo's and simply, sweetly, kissed him again on the mouth.
"Oh, Sam", murmured Frodo into his kiss Frodo said nothing but his hand lifted and closed around Sam's wrist. That small sign was enough assurance to urge Sam on: if he could still those fluttering hands just awhile!
He rubbed Frodo's temples and smoothed his brow and kissed him, small soft kisses, again and again. Frodo shuddered, just once, beneath him.
Sam lay his mouth against Frodo's ear and whispered, barely audibly, "Does that help a little bit? dear Frodo? Does that help you to forget?"
"Yes, Sam, it does," said Frodo, and his voice was filed with wonder "it's strange to say but yes, it does."
"That's good", murmured Sam, "that's good, dear master."
He meant that it was good for Frodo to forget; but he also meant that it was good to feel his master's body against his and to feel his own warmth slowly seeping into that pitifully thin frame and warm it up.
It felt good for its own sake, and it felt good in this land of loneliness and despair.
Sam moved his head again and kissed Frodo's ear and neck, and Frodo clung to him as if he were about to drown.
Embraces and kisses may have Frodo to forget but they did the opposite for Sam. They made him remember. He closed his eyes and felt transported back to happier days, at Bag End, cheerful summer mornings and him opening the curtains and greeting his master with a cheerful 'Good morning, Mr Frodo', and Frodo's tousled head emerging from under the bedclothes and blinking into the sunlight. But when Sam opened his eyes to look at Frodo. he had that faraway pained look on his brow and he feared those days would never return. But at least the terrifying chill had been driven off, at least for now.
He prepared to roll off Frodo, and Frodo opened his mouth and said 'Thank you, Sam' and gave him a sad, lost look of gratitude,a but just then the oddest thing happened. As Sam gave Frodo one last kiss on the lips, he felt a warm bulge grow in his breeches, and as he prolonged his kiss, an answering bulge. Frodo's eyes locked on his and he gave a small gasp, and as he gasped his lips pulled Sam's apart and their tongues touched. Sam closed his eyes, and stayed quite still, frozen in this moment. Then he moved his tongue, ever so tentatively, and circled Frodo's tip with his own. They were now perfectly still, but Sam felt Frodo's grip tighten around his wrist and his own loins were suddenly on fire. He daren't open his eyes, and he also daren't think but the leant into Frodo's body with a sigh.
And then their loins moved with one another, slowly and barely perceptibly, and Sam broke the kiss to utter breathy gasps into Frodo's ear. His brow was dripping and his mind reeled. He kept his eyes tightly closed, as if to shut out the land about them and turn in upon themselves, where there were only the two of them and nothing else, and as if the burning in his heart and loins were not happening, and so he didn't see Frodo's eyes wide open and fastened on his friend's face, and they were clear and light as if a veil had been torn from them.
Their movements became more urgent, and Frodo muttered incoherent words, but now they weren't words of torment but words of abandon. The sound of Frodo's voice, higher than usual and mewing incoherently, sent spasms of delight through Sam. A warm wetness spread between his legs and then an echoing warmth seeped from Frodo into his threadbare breeches, as a moan, deep from within his soul, escaped Sam's lips.
He then relaxed and lay heavy on Frodo, but finally he opened his eyes and saw the pain, at least for now, lifted from his master's gaze. He couldn't find words to speak, he could only sigh and breathe and finally stammered, "I'm so glad that you could forget for a while, a little while at least."
But Frodo had already fallen into a sweet, untroubled sleep.
THE END
----
Written 24 January 2002.
Posted 9 June 2009.
1,184 words
All original parts © Lobelia.
Author: Lobelia;
lobelia321Fandom: Lord of the Rings fps
Pairing: Sam / Frodo
Rating: 15; PG-13
Length: 1, 180 words.
Category: Historical document from the handwritten archives of Lobelia.
Date of document: 24 January 2002.
Canon: Given the date, it may be seen that this is total and utter Book Canon!
Type of document: First fanfic ever, ever written in my life!
Handwritten in pencil, on 3 sheets of lined A-4 paper, while sitting in the University Library tearoom. I remember that my heart was beating the entire time I wrote this!
Author's important notes: This fic is posted here for purposes of historical record-keeping. Inspired by reading a 1979 Kirk/Spock fic yesterday and inspired by finding the very first fic I ever wrote (and never posted) among a pile of notes and fics, I decided to type this up so that, if I ever lose these pieces of paper, I will have a web record of their existence.
Editorial notes: I have kept in some of my deletions because it interests me what decisions I made back then. I have also retained the idiosyncratic punctuation, the appalling misuse of the verb 'lay', the overlong paragraphs, the interminable sentences, and other faults.
Category: This is a kind of melodramatic hurt/comfort but it tips over into unintentional crack at one point.
Summary: Sam felt a warm bulge grow in his breeches, and as he prolonged the kiss, an answering bulge.
If you're interested in the first fanfic I ever properly typed up and sent out to beta: that was Lotrips, Orlando/Dominic, Moon Madness, finished on 7 February 2002. Within 2 ½ weeks of the Sam/Frodo one. Oh ladies, I was hooked.
A little while at least
by Lobelia
Dusk was settling down. All about them, the air hung heavy with soot and smoke. Red spumes from the mountain and further away lit up the atmosphere and cast a lurid ghastly glow over the ravaged land and on the two hobbits' skins.
"It's time to rest", said Sam, and Frodo dropped down as if dead.
Sam sat down next to him and moved his gaze from the desolate landscape to the tiny, crooked gorse bush that was all the shelter they had. He then looked at Frodo's face, and it looked exhausted, pinched and pale, despite the lurid tinge from the far-off flames. His eyes rolled restlessly under his half-closed lids, and his hands twitched on the ground beside him. Sam took hold of Frodo's left hand. Despite the miasmic heat rising from the earth, it was cold as ice. He lifted Frodo's other wrist; it, too, was chill but the pulse under the skin was racing.
"Mister Frodo", Sam whispered, and lay his palms against his master's cheeks. They were clammy and as if drenched of blood. Oh, why had they left the blankets behind? "Fool, Samwise Gamgee, fool are you," muttered Sam, "well, we must keep warm as we can," and he covered Frodo with his own body and chafed his hands and cupped his cheeks face in his palms, but Frodo neither woke nor warmed. Then Sam felt a stab of fear and cried softly,
"Frod, me dear, don't leave me now, stay with me... me dear, me luv..." Still Frodo looked eerily remote in the firelight; his skin smeared and bruised and chill to the touch. "Me dear, me luv" repeated Sam helplessly and, in desperation and loneliness, pressed his warm lips against Frodo's forehead, then against his eyelids, his temples and cheeks and the corners of his mouth. And then he let them fall on Frodo's lips; and finally, his dear master stirred and opened his eyes and croaked, "Sam."
"Yes, dear Frodo", said Sam, and almost sobbed with gratitude.
"Sam, it's almost more than I can bear", whispered Frodo, "I see almost nothing now except that ring of fire, and it grows every day, and it burns me up from inside."
"Yet you are froze as ice", said Sam.
"It will kill me before the end", said Frodo, "if I could only forget it for a moment, just one moment. But I can't, I can't."
Then something occurred to Sam, and at this moment it seemed like the one good thing in a world of fear and despair, a tiny warm flame spark to keep Evil at bay for just a few moments. He didn't know where and how this thought came to him, but before he could ponder it, he had bent his face close to Frodo's and simply, sweetly, kissed him again on the mouth.
"Oh, Sam", murmured Frodo into his kiss Frodo said nothing but his hand lifted and closed around Sam's wrist. That small sign was enough assurance to urge Sam on: if he could still those fluttering hands just awhile!
He rubbed Frodo's temples and smoothed his brow and kissed him, small soft kisses, again and again. Frodo shuddered, just once, beneath him.
Sam lay his mouth against Frodo's ear and whispered, barely audibly, "Does that help a little bit? dear Frodo? Does that help you to forget?"
"Yes, Sam, it does," said Frodo, and his voice was filed with wonder "it's strange to say but yes, it does."
"That's good", murmured Sam, "that's good, dear master."
He meant that it was good for Frodo to forget; but he also meant that it was good to feel his master's body against his and to feel his own warmth slowly seeping into that pitifully thin frame and warm it up.
It felt good for its own sake, and it felt good in this land of loneliness and despair.
Sam moved his head again and kissed Frodo's ear and neck, and Frodo clung to him as if he were about to drown.
Embraces and kisses may have Frodo to forget but they did the opposite for Sam. They made him remember. He closed his eyes and felt transported back to happier days, at Bag End, cheerful summer mornings and him opening the curtains and greeting his master with a cheerful 'Good morning, Mr Frodo', and Frodo's tousled head emerging from under the bedclothes and blinking into the sunlight. But when Sam opened his eyes to look at Frodo. he had that faraway pained look on his brow and he feared those days would never return. But at least the terrifying chill had been driven off, at least for now.
He prepared to roll off Frodo, and Frodo opened his mouth and said 'Thank you, Sam' and gave him a sad, lost look of gratitude,a but just then the oddest thing happened. As Sam gave Frodo one last kiss on the lips, he felt a warm bulge grow in his breeches, and as he prolonged his kiss, an answering bulge. Frodo's eyes locked on his and he gave a small gasp, and as he gasped his lips pulled Sam's apart and their tongues touched. Sam closed his eyes, and stayed quite still, frozen in this moment. Then he moved his tongue, ever so tentatively, and circled Frodo's tip with his own. They were now perfectly still, but Sam felt Frodo's grip tighten around his wrist and his own loins were suddenly on fire. He daren't open his eyes, and he also daren't think but the leant into Frodo's body with a sigh.
And then their loins moved with one another, slowly and barely perceptibly, and Sam broke the kiss to utter breathy gasps into Frodo's ear. His brow was dripping and his mind reeled. He kept his eyes tightly closed, as if to shut out the land about them and turn in upon themselves, where there were only the two of them and nothing else, and as if the burning in his heart and loins were not happening, and so he didn't see Frodo's eyes wide open and fastened on his friend's face, and they were clear and light as if a veil had been torn from them.
Their movements became more urgent, and Frodo muttered incoherent words, but now they weren't words of torment but words of abandon. The sound of Frodo's voice, higher than usual and mewing incoherently, sent spasms of delight through Sam. A warm wetness spread between his legs and then an echoing warmth seeped from Frodo into his threadbare breeches, as a moan, deep from within his soul, escaped Sam's lips.
He then relaxed and lay heavy on Frodo, but finally he opened his eyes and saw the pain, at least for now, lifted from his master's gaze. He couldn't find words to speak, he could only sigh and breathe and finally stammered, "I'm so glad that you could forget for a while, a little while at least."
But Frodo had already fallen into a sweet, untroubled sleep.
THE END
----
Written 24 January 2002.
Posted 9 June 2009.
1,184 words
All original parts © Lobelia.