The morning sun flooded in through the round window of the master bedroom at Bag End. The occupants of the room were sprawled naked over a large feather-filled mattress with sheets scattered across furniture and the floor. As the sun danced over the prone forms, the sleepers finally began to stir. A tanned, well-muscled arm, still slowed by sleep, snaked its way towards chocolate brown curls that rested over a porcelain white ear. Callused fingers gently caressed the mocha wisps as though they were strands of gold. The dark haired hobbit stirred at the feather-light touch and opened his eyes. His gaze came to rest on his lover and he let out a sigh.

"Oh, Sam," he said, almost mournfully. "Last night was perfect. And to wake up to you, here, in my bed is pure bliss. But….."

Sam looked at him quizzically. "That almost sound as though you regret what we have done? Is that so, do you wish it had not happened?"

A small smile blossomed across Frodo's face as he stretched up to kiss Sam lightly on the nose. "Of course not, my love. My only regret is that we did not get round to this sooner."