Sam
woke, as usual, just before sunrise. As the sky slowly lightened, he opened
his eyes to see ebony curls spread out over cream linen. His hands itched to
touch the ivory skin before him, but he dared not, in case he woke Frodo.
Instead, he smoothed the soft, cool material of the pillowcase on which his
lover's head lay and slowly traced the embroidered monogram that had been
stitched in its corner.
His hand slowly glided over the motif as he remembered the number of times he
had woken up to this sight and thought that he would never tire of it, wrapped
in the safe cocoon of warm blankets, with the one he loved lying next to him.
As he skimmed his fingers over the intricate design, he marvelled at the how
the two letters looked like himself and Frodo, one lithe and willowy, the
other sturdy and stout, but both fitting together perfectly.
Slowly, the body beside him stirred and Frodo turned towards him, still in the
grip of slumber, but with eyes smiling. Without a word being spoken, an arm
reached out and pulled Sam close, the two bodies entwining like the initials
on the pillow.
