Warning: hobbit slash, but only erotica
Source: the movie-verse for characterization (but AU, as much slash is)
Disclaimer: Tolkien implied in a letter that we could play in his sandbox.
Notes: written for the velvet challenge at tolkien_weekly
THE DELIGHT OF TEXTURE
a five part drabble
When Sam was learning to be a gardener, he soon realised that texture was important. The Gaffer would patiently explain about the feel of dirt and plants, running them through his hands. Sam followed, quickly feeling the differences between damp soil and dry, sick leaves and well.
'Twas only when he saw Frodo in his new brown suit that Sam realised that texture counted elsewhere. Not only did his fingers desire to caress the soft velvet, but he yearned to touch the even softer skin underneath. Never did he dare to dream that Frodo felt the same way about him.
Frodo Baggins often and secretly blessed the older hobbit for adopting him. With the passing of his parents, he had indeed felt lost in the warrens of Brandybuck Hall. Now, Bag End was his home, in its garden setting in the heart of the Shire.
Amongst their many and varied activities, Bilbo and his nephew often took long walks about the countryside. Not only did the one-time adventurer introduce Frodo to the Shire hobbits, he also showed the younger hobbit the natural beauties of his new home. Frodo enjoyed nature with his eyes and ears and nose only, for some time.
Not until one late summer day, when he observed Sam re-planting some flowers did it occur to Frodo that texture in nature was important as well. And then a certain longing came upon him. He hied himself off to the tailor's, spending some time stroking all the fabrics. At last he settled on a soft brown velvet to be made into a walking suit.
Frodo could only hope that Sam would wish to run his hands over it as well, just as the gardener liked to run his nimble fingers through nature. 'Twas just another side of Nature, after all.
Sam always checked by the Bag End gardens on the days he wasn't working there. It was late evening, but all to the good. As he opened the back gate, he spotted Frodo, hands busy pulling the sweet rambling roses to scent and sniff. Sam's hands involuntarily reached out; then thinking better, he shoved them in his pockets.
But Frodo had heard the gate and turned in time to see the treacherous gesture. He approached his gardener slowly, his own fears welling up, only to be calmed by the desire he glimpsed in the other's eyes. He threw caution to the breeze.
"Do you like my new suit, Sam?"
"Oh, yes, Mr. Frodo..."
"Please, Sam, call me Frodo?"
Twilight gathered under the trees, shadowing them in the gloaming.
"That wouldn't be right, sir."
"At least, not in public."
The two hobbits moved closer, unknowingly, until their noses almost touched.
"Sam, the velvet's soft."
Their lips met. Trembling in the first kiss, then longer and deeper, all full of unexpressed longings.
Sam's hands roamed over the velvet, even as Frodo framed Sam's face with his hands.
"But you, dear master, are sweeter still."
Together, they explored the delight of texture in the garden.