Hobbits Across America | By : radatrix Category: Lord of the Rings Movies > Slash - Male/Male Views: 1889 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings book series and movie series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
“Sir?” Merry said in his strong Southern accent. Frodo had just met Merry, who would be his liaison to the new slaves he had inherited. Most would call Merry the slave driver but Frodo felt those words were a little harsh.
“Yes, Meriadoc?”
“You can call me Merry.”
“All right then, Merry, sugar. What was it you were askin’, then?”
“I wanted to introduce you to your new valet. His name is Pippin.” Merry pushed a miniscule, scared-looking slave in front of Frodo.
“Hello, Pippin,” Frodo said cordially.
“ ‘Ello, Mr. Frodo, sir!” Pippin cheered. “ ‘Tis a lovely day, ain’t it?
“I’m afraid to say it isn’t,” Frodo sighed sadly. “My uncle, Bilbo, has just left last evening for Rivendell, North Carolina.”
“Whatever for, Master Frodo?” Pippin squeaked out cautiously.
“Why, he’s gone there to retire. But don’t you worry about him.” Frodo stuck out a hand and roughly rubbed the top of Pippin’s head. “We’ve lots of work to do.”
“I’ll do anything you ask, Mr. Frodo! Just say the word and I’ll be darning your socks in a jiff!”
Frodo smiled a melancholy smile. “My socks are fine, Pippin. And you can call me ‘Frodo.’” Frodo caught sight of Pippin’s shocked expression. “You will find, sugar, that I am not as formal as Bilbo. Now, let’s go inside.” Frodo turned to speak to Merry, who had just kind of been standing there. “We’ll speak later,” Frodo said quietly.
The main house was very grand and was in the neoclassical style. Frodo walked through the many rooms noting in his mind the changes he would have to make in order to raise this place to his standards. The curtains in the parlor had to go. Pink ones would go nicely, Frodo thought to himself. Living on this plantation wasn’t going to be so bad. He was, however, going to miss the metropolitan nature of the place he had been living for the past five years: Richmond. It was going to be very difficult to meet suitable young men out in the country.
“So, Pippin,” Frodo waxed casually. “How long have you been at Bag End?” Bag End, of course, being the name of the plantation.
“I was born here, sir,” Pippin revealed. “My mam was Mr. Bilbo’s best cook, she was.”
“What happened to her?”
“Mister Merry, he done beat her and she don’t wanna work, so Mister Bilbo sold her to Mister Saruman of Isengard Hills.”
“Is she happy there?” Frodo asked, slightly queasy.
“I don’t rightly know, sir. I haven’t seen her since I was real wee.”
“And how old are you now?”
“Twelve, sir.”
“I see.”
~
Frodo strolled into his bedchamber, absolutely exhausted. He’d done so much today! First, there were Bilbo’s nasty relations, who came around to pry after his gold. Then there was little Pippin, who had chattered nonstop until Frodo finally asked him to halt.
And then there was Merry, who’d forced Frodo along on a six-hour tour of his new plantation. Frodo hadn’t wanted to continue, but Merry was, for lack of a better term, an absolute slave driver.
Frodo swooned onto his plush chaise lounge. He picked up the newspaper lying next to him. He skipped over the front page which said something about Charles Sumner almost getting caned to death in the Senate. The fashion page was Frodo’s final destination. He fell asleep reading something about embroidered silk from Paris.
~
The next few years sped by in a blur. Frodo found life at the Bag End Plantation sedentary and fascinating. Frodo, who mostly ignored politics, local or otherwise, was shocked when his employees, mostly Merry, would tell him about slave revolts, or the national debate over what seemed to be a highly controversial issue.
Meanwhile, Frodo was unsuccessful in his attempts at courting. Back in Richmond he has been quite popular among the local beaux, who were delighted at his ribald sense of humor and fine delicate hands. As one of those beaux, a Mister Ronaldo Pomodoro, had once exclaimed, “Oh, what those hands can do!” But Frodo’s life at Bag End was joylessly devoid of company, for courting or otherwise. A Mister Fred Burrows often stopped in, but nothing ever came of those encounters. There has been a proposal of marriage from a Mister Folco Boffin, but Frodo had been marginally disinterested, finally deciding that Folco was too boisterous. It had been a lonely few years for Frodo—years absent of most excitement. But soon, it would all change for better—or for worse.
~
Frodo awoke to a strange noise. It sounded like popping corn. No, it was gunshots. Gunshots! Frodo sat up in bed. “Pippin!” He yelled, ringing the little bell on his beside table.
A terrified looking Pippin scurried into the room. “Yes, Mr. Baggins?”
“What are those gunshots?”
“My Auntie Isabelle tells me we’re at war. Virginia has seceded from the union, along with many other states.”
“Seceded? Why?”
“There was a great battle at Ft. Sumter. That’s all I know, Sir.”
“I hope this doesn’t affect us much.”
What Frodo hoped and what actually took place were quite different. Frodo first noticed small things missing at the local market, but soon it was hard to even find a good sized cucumber. Most of the men in the area had gone to fight in the battles, which meant Frodo was having an even harder time finding a decent man. Now, in addition to worrying about the usual things, he also had to worry if they had all their limbs.
Everything was about to change for Frodo one foggy March night. News of a Union Army on the march had reached Bag End.
~
Frodo was shocked to hear the whinnies of his capable Palomino steeds as he sat down to supper. Pippin, who was nearby, stumbled into the dining room.
“Mr. Frodo!” he whooped, falling to his knees. “There’s a Yankee at the door, Mr. Frodo! A Yankee!” Pippin was obviously sobbing and trembling in fear.
Frodo knew Bilbo’s old shotgun was still hung over the mantelpiece in the drawing room, and he also knew that all of his gold and confederate bonds wee either in the well in a lockbox, or at the local bank. With a sigh of resignation, Frodo rose.
“All right, Pippin. I’ll come down and meet him.”
“He looks dangerous, Mr. Frodo! Powerful dangerous.”
“Frodo considered this. “Pip, dear, do you know how to work Bilbo’s old shotgun? The one over the fireplace in the drawing room?” Pippin nodded, slow and cautious. “Well, you go get that gun down. I will greet the Yankee, and if I shout – if there’s any sort of trouble – I want you to shoot. Do you understand me?”
With a standard bow, Pippin scurried off. Frodo untucked his napkin from the collar of his shirt, and straightened his sleeves. He would meet this Yankee, face to face. Frodo was unnerved. He had never noticed how creaky the front hall stairs truly were. Despite his brave demeanor, Frodo was quaking. “There’s nothing for it, old boy.” He reassured himself. “You just go down there and tell that Yankee off.”
When he got to the bottom of the stairs he looked up. His eyes met the stare of the most beautiful man Frodo had ever seen. He was absolutely stunning and his blue Union uniform really brought out the blue in his eyes. “Well, hello, sugar.” Frodo flirted, batting his eyelashes.
“Sir, are you the master of this estate?”
“Yes. Yes, I am. Who do I have the pleasure (and let me assure you, it is a pleasure) of meeting?”
“I am commander Samwise Gamgee of the sixth infantry unit. I am afraid we need to seize your land temporarily and use it as a base.”
“Would that mean more sexy men in uniform like yourself would be visiting?”
“Um, yes. I guess.”
“In that case you are all my guests.”
“Really?” Sam looked shocked.
“Yes, of course. Have you never heard of Southern hospitality?”
“I just thought this would be a lot more difficult.”
~
Frodo loved having all of those young sexy soldier-types staying with him. He especially liked Commander Gamgee. He just couldn’t keep his mind or his eyes off of him. Frodo supped with Commander Gamgee each and every night. One night Frodo finally made some progress.
“Oh, Mr. Gamgee. If I had known men up North were so handsome I would have left Virginia a long time ago.”
“Yes, it’s very nice up there.”
“So, do you have a girlfriend or wife waiting for you at home?”
“No, I’m a confirmed bachelor.”
“Oh.” Frodo was busy plotting his next step. “Sam? May I call you Sam?”
“Of course.”
“Where did you say you were from?”
“Saratoga, New York.”
“Huh.”
“What does that mean?”
“Oh. It’s just I’ve never heard of it before, that’s all.”
“Really? It’s a fairly sizable town.”
“Well, I’ve never been north of Washington. Will you take me to Saratoga, Sam? After all of this fighting’s through? I would like to see it.”
“That could be arranged.” Sam said sinisterly.
~
Pippin sat at Frodo’s bed, clutching the pillow cases. “Please don’t go.” He sobbed. “Oh, Mr. Frodo, whatever will we do at Bag End without you?”
“It’s all right, Pip.” Frodo was folding his trousers and carefully placing them in his carpetbag suitcase. “Merry will look after Bag End in my absence.”
“Surely the Yankees will...”
“Ah, Pippin.” Frodo snapped his bag shut and patted Pippin on the head as he had at their first meeting. “I’m going to Saratoga with Sam. He will keep me safe. His family is up there.”
“You can’t be traveling nowhere with that Yankee, Mr. Frodo! He’ll, he’ll…”
“—He’ll be fine to me, I’m sure.”
“Are you sure, Mr. Frodo?”
Frodo took a deep breath and smiled his best toothy smile. “Yes, Pip. I’m sure.”
~
“I have to admit, Sir, I was surprised when you told me you wanted to come North with me.” Sam said. Frodo and Sam were sitting, respectively, passenger and driver in a cart pulled by two of Frodo’s favorite Palominos, Rodney and Abraham. “But now that we’re on the road, I have a good feeling about the whole thing.”
Frodo said nothing. He closed his eyes, lurched closer to Sam, and concentrated on the deep, mellow voice.
“Oh, Sam.” Frodo sighed. He was in love with the handsome soldier’s calm demeanor. Sam’s strong arms were confident and yet gentle as he grasped the reigns of the horses. “How will we be received when we reach Saratoga?”
Sam chuckled to himself. It was an eerie, scoundrel-ish chuckle. “Not well, I’m afraid.”
Not well! Frodo was alarmed. “It is because you’re a Yankee commander and I’m a confederate slave holder?”
“Oh, my dear.” Sam took Frodo’s pale hand in his and delicately kissed it. “The war’s been hard on you. Hell, it’s been harder Saratoga.”
“How so? All of my neighbor’s homes have been burned to the ground! Saratoga hasn’t been touched!”
“Um. I’m just talking, like people do.” Suddenly a loud clap of thunder made both Frodo and Sam jump. Frodo’s Palominos started to bray and buck. Sam gallantly took the reigns.
“Oh wow!” shrieked Frodo.
“Don’t worry, my sweet. I will pull us under that oak tree over yonder.”
Just then a bolt of lightening struck the indicated oak tree, cracking it in half. Frodo shrieked some more.
“I’ll pull us under that bridge.” Sam said, as he directed the carriage under a bridge. The rain was pounding onto them and the roofless carriage was drenched.
“Oh, Sam. We almost died!”
“That’s right, my sweet.”
“Kiss me, Samwise. Kiss me like you’ve never kissed me before.”
“I haven’t ever kissed you before.”
“Well, kiss me now!” Sam confidently swept Frodo up into his arms.
“Close your eyes, my darling. I want this fist kiss of ours to be spectacular, like the first sunset of summer when the nights are balmy and moist and the sun smears across the sky like colors on the master’s palette.”
“Oh, Sam!” Frodo felt another pair of lips fuse to his and he slowly and gingerly let Sam slide his tongue inside, past the barriers of Frodo’s chastity. He had been kissed before, but not like this. Even with his eyes closed, he saw stars.
“How was that?” Sam asked softly, opening his eyes and pulling away.
Frodo had no words. Except for these: “Oh, Sam!”
“Oh, my Frodo! I wish I’d met you long before now—I wish I’d met you in another life, when there was no war.”
“Kiss me again, Sam!”
“Yes, Sir!” Sam firmly planted his lips onto Frodo’s. The sensations were so great that they were almost agony to endure. Sam started to unbutton Frodo’s trousers.
“Sam, no…”
“What? Don’t worry. You’ll like it.”
“It’s just. Well, I’ve never done this before. I’ve never gotten past kissing.”
“Are you meaning to say that this is your first time?”
“Yes, Sam. I’m so sorry if that’s a problem.”
“It’s no problem. Get ready for the ride of your life!” Sam yelled as he continued to unbutton Frodo’s pantaloons.
Frodo was very near fainting as he watched Sam’s fingers swiftly undo his pants. The sensation of the material sliding down his thighs, everything slick with the wet Virginia rain and perspiration…Frodo was so inexperienced, and yet, so eager. He stepped out of his pants and fell into Sam’s arms.
“Shh,” Sam shh-ed gently. “Easy, now. I want this to be good for you.”
“Oh, Sam. I’m so nervous.”
“Don’t be nervous, my darling. All we need is love (and lots of water-based lubricant) and everything will be hunky dory.”
“How’s that?” Frodo asked.
“All we need is love.”
“No, what was in the parentheses?”
“What parentheses?” Sam asked. “No parentheses.”
“Oh, okay.” Sam gracefully spit into his hand (really) and rubbed his warm saliva into the part of Frodo’s anatomy commonly known in modern times as the “sphincter”.
“How does that feel?” Sam asked, gently massaging his spit into his lover’s bottom.
“Wonderful,” Frodo said dreamily. “I never knew how wonderful making love could be.”
Gently Sam felt for the middle of the little ring with his index finger, and slipped inside.
“Oh!” Frodo exclaimed.
“Are you alright?” Sam asked.
“Oh, yes,” Frodo choked out. “It caught me off guard, but it feels lovely now.”
“Should I try to go a little deeper?”
“Yes, please.” Sam wiggled his finger further inside of Frodo, searching out the special place he knew would bring his beau unimaginable pleasure. When Frodo gasped in delight and squirmed in Sam’s arms, he knew he had the spot. He chuckled to himself.
“Ah, my dear. How does that feel?”
“Oh, Sam! More, give me more!”
“You want more, do you?”
“Yes! Oh, Sam, you have no idea how much I want it! How much I need it—oh!” Sam slipped in a second finger. Frodo was wriggling, trying to position himself right on top of Sam’s wily knowledgeable digits.
The rain was still pouring all around them. The bridge was only protecting them so much. The air was thick and humid around them. Sam removed his fingers from Frodo’s bum and positioned himself over Frodo. “Are you ready?” he asked.
“Ready as I’ll ever be!” voiced Frodo enthusiastically.
Frodo was on his back, legs over Sam’s shoulders, panting. “Please, Sam. I never wanted anything in my life more than I’ve wanted this.”
Sam inched closer to Frodo and positioned the head of his cock at the shuddering entrance to Frodo’s body. “Just relax,” he whispered. “You have to relax. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You could never hurt me.” Frodo drolled.
“No, I totally could. Like, my penis? It’s huge.”
“Oh, I guess you could.”
“Yeah, I could. So just relax.” Frodo sighed dreamily and relaxed against the soft Virginia mud. Sam’s cock was gently nudging his entrance and Frodo felt himself open, like a dainty rosebud blooming after a hard spring rain. He felt his insides retracting and then relaxing like a butterfly stuck in a honey pot.
Sam groaned a mighty groan and felt the soft walls of Frodo’s body snuggle up to his magical sperm wand. He began pumping in and out, slowly at first but then faster like a piston in a steam engine he went in and out repeatedly. Frodo felt Sam’s meaty tube steak plow over and over his fertile P-spot. He cried out in love and clutched his bowels together. He felt Sam’s scepter tighten and then release successive gushes of love juice.
“Oh, Sam!” he cried out. Luckily, Sam’s mighty torrent of hot pearl jam came out in a forceful spray, hitting Frodo’s prostate with a gargantuan wallop. Frodo, who had not touched his own meek penis once during this sex scene, felt a tidal wave of raw emotions and pleasure as a few pathetic drips of semen leaked out of his member.
“OH, SAM!” he over-emoted.
“Oh, Frodo,” Sam mewed, pulling his dick out of his beloved bottom’s, um, beloved bottom. “Did I hurt you, my love? Are you in pain?”
“A little.” Frodo confessed bravely.
The rain started to let up. The sun came out from behind the clouds. “Frodo?” Sam asked tenderly.
“Sam. I don’t think I can leave Virginia. Saratoga sounds nice but this is my home. Besides, in my current state I don’t think I cold survive the carriage ride.”
“I think that’s a marvelous idea!”
“Really?”
“I was never too keen on going back to Saratoga in the first place. You just wanted to go so badly and I wanted to keep you near me.”
“That’s so sweet.”
“Yes, well let’s turn this carriage around. To Bag End!” Sam whipped the Palominos who whinnied and took off galloping back south towards Frodo’s plantation.
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