Bath

Bath

Posted: June 29, 2007
Title: Bath
Author: Enide
Type: FCS
Characters: Frodo/Legolas/Sam
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Tolkien owns them, but sometimes they run away from his and come and play with me.
Category: Multiple Partners, Romance, First-Time, Interspecies, Fluff-fluffety-fluff,fluff
Warnings: None
Beta: Noone but the courageous Alex would take on the daring task of reading through this mess!
Author's Notes: A cute story turning foul.

Summary: Frodo, Sam and Legolas is warming each other in a cold Imladris. But Aragorn is not happy.

*****

”We have been walking out here for hours,” Sam complained, pulling his cloak around him to keep out the winter winds that blew over Imladris. ”It is freezing cold, and you should be resting. Neither Gandalf nor Master Elrond would ever forgive me for letting you do this. Your shoulder is still not well.”

”Go back if you are cold Sam,” Frodo said kindly. ”But I'm too restless; I can't stand being locked in that room any longer.” The two hobbits had been walking around the beautiful gardens of Rivendell, now covered in a thin layer of snow that came flying in the wind for almost the entire day; night was starting to fall, and the temperature was dropping. Frodo’s hand were white from the chill, and Sam’s cheeks were glowing red in the strong wind.

”How about the Halls of Fire? We could go there, and listen to some songs. It's warm in there.” Almost as soon as he had said it, Sam knew it was a mistake. Frodo’s shoulders slumped down as if yet another weight was laid on them, and Sam silently cursed himself for not being able to understand his master better.

”No, Sam, I can't go there. I can't stand the looks I get, the pity and the...the fear. As if I was dying, or dangerous. I know they mean well, but it makes me feel extremely uncomfortable, and sometimes I fear that they might be right. It will be a relief when we finally leave here, although Rivendell has treated us well, beyond what I could have hoped anywhere else.” They fell silent again, weighed down by the curse that set Frodo aside from everyone else - the curse of the Ring. Sam knew his master thought and fretted too much about that cursed item, but he could not think of anything to distract him. At least, nothing that he would ever dare.

”What is that?” Frodo suddenly asked, waking Sam from his musings. Strange wisps of smoke were coming from behind a closed door; the faint white fog-like whispers trailing out from the sides of the door posts.

”Do you think it's a fire?” Sam hurried to keep up with Frodo who was striding towards the door, a curious and slightly worried look on his face. ”Should we get someone to help? ”

”No, it’s not smoke.” Frodo moved his hand thought the clouds; they got wet with condensation. ”It's...steam. ”

”Steam?”

”We best make sure everything is alright.” Frodo knocked hesitantly on the door.

”Hello? Is everything alright?”

”Come in,” a voice answered on the other side.

Still very uncertain, Frodo opened the door, and the two hobbits peered in.

The room was dark, the only source of light coming from a merrily sparkling fire in the farthest part of the room. In front of the hearth, almost screening out the light, stood a large bath tub of polished bronze on four feet shaped like the paws of a lion. Luxuriating in the tub, long legs and arms hanging out, and golden hair covered with the pearls of condensation was an elf. The steam trailing up from the tub and his limbs was sweeping the whole room in a warm, wet fog.

”We are so sorry, master elf,” Sam mumbled, red blush covering his face. ”We did not mean to disturb you...”

The elf laughed, giving them a soft smile. The warmth of the room was starting to make the hobbits cold limbs tingle.

”There is no need to be so formal, Sam - it is but me. Remember, from Master Elrond’s council? I offered to follow with you on the quest.”

”Legolas,” Frodo mumbled, his eyes meeting the elf's.

”Yes.” Legolas eyes held on Frodo, but his smile included Sam. ”Now, please come in if you are cold. But shut the door behind you; the wind is cold.”

”Well... but, we can't...”Sam started protesting, still nervous from being in the same room as an elf, and even more so a naked one. But Frodo nodded, and carefully shut the door, leaving them in the soft glow of the fire.

”You seem very cold, both of you.” Legolas eyes darted between the hobbits. ”If you want, there is plenty of room in the bath for two hobbits as well.”

Sam was suddenly fiercely glad for the gloom; his face was burning red. He tried to stammer an excuse, but couldn't find any words. Astounded, he watched Frodo nod, his eyes not leaving the elf's for a second.

”We would appreciate that, wouldn't we Sam?” Frodos cold fingers fumbled with the cloak before he managed to open the clasp; he laid the cloth over a chair, and the started unbuttoning his shirt.

Sam suddenly realised that Frodo was taking the elf's words seriously, and if he didn't hurry, he would be the only one still dressed in the room.

But the thought of getting naked in this company was very uncomfortable. He was painfully aware that he could neither measure up to his master’s slim form nor the elf's smooth muscles, visible through the steam.

Frodo had pulled off the shirt, his skin almost as fair as the elf's and his fragile, smooth back made Sam's mouth turn dry. When he started removing his pants, Sam hurried to remove his own clothing, feeling clumsy, and awkward and very out of his depth.

Frodo was now completely naked, the soft glow from the fire sending shadows raising up and down his body; Sam's movements got even clumsier, seeing for the first time the beauty that he had just been able to dream of before. Frodo seemed totally unselfconscious as he walked up to the bath tub, but Sam was very aware of the bulk of his body; he had the body of an hobbit, but his master looked more like an elf than ever. The only sign of mortality was his slightly hitched up shoulder around the scar from Weathertop.

Legolas had drawn his legs back into the bath, and now helped Frodo over the rim, as Sam at last freed himself from the last of his clothes and hurried over. He half expected to be ignored, and would indeed be more than satisfied just to be in here, sharing the same bath as these two wonderful beings, but Legolas let out a strong arm and helped him, too, over the rim.

The light from the fire came from beneath, which made the bath water look black and hard as slate; it was impossible to see anything beneath the surface. Sam was very grateful for this as he sank down in the warm water that stung his cold body, because even if he curled up to take as little place as possible - he did not want to offend any of them by accidentally touching anything - it was quite impossible to keep his thoughts in control.

The bath was surprisingly large, and the two hobbits had plenty of room on a small shelf opposite to Legolas, a ledge that was perhaps used to keep bath oils and the like. Both the elf and his master had closed their eyes, content smiles on their faces as they enjoyed the warm water.

Sam could not stop his eyes from roving from one to the other, so unlike and yet with something in common. Legolas had leaned back on the rim behind him, and his naked, warm chest, where smooth skin moved over the long muscles as he moved, was visible over the black water surface, small pink nipples and the impression of rippled muscles on a flat, hard stomach drawing Sam's attention over and over again, until he blushed from more than the heat.

Frodo’s hair was getting damp, curling over his ears and down his long swan neck. His chest was barely visible since the water reached high on the hobbits, but when anyone of them moved the small waves sank and exposed his soft, slim torso and brown nipples. Sam was very, very glad that the black water surface reflected their faces, and didn't show anything beneath, because he was finding it harder and harder to control his body.

”You are sitting very stiffly, Frodo.” Legolas suddenly spoke, his dark soft voice doing nothing to break the comfortable spell of the moment. ”Is your shoulder still causing you pain?”

”He is still hurting.” Sam suddenly sat upright, all other thoughts erased but the wellbeing of his master. ”Can you help him? Please?”

”There must be scarce little I can do that Master Elrond has not already done; I do not have a healing touch. But if you want, I can look at it.”

Frodo scuffled over, to sit directly in front of the elf; the water reaching almost to his chin now. Sam felt a sudden pang of despair as the elf's long, strong fingers started moving over his master’s shoulder, tenderly but firmly.

”I can do nothing to help ease this wound,” Legolas shook his head, sending droplets flying like a cloud from his hair. ”And I do not think anyone ever will be able to heal it further. But your muscles has constricted around the pain; that at least I can help you with.” He started to gently massage the shoulder and Frodo’s back, moving carefully around the wound.

To Sam's eyes it seemed that Frodo visibly relaxed, his eyes closing as some of the pain disappeared, his shoulder falling down to the normal position as the tension withdrew. The relief that flooded him was almost a match for his master’s.

”Thank you,” he whispered sincerely. Legolas just smiled and nodded, his hands still working on Frodo’s back. The apparent pleasure in Frodo’s face was starting to make Sam somewhat jealous; it should be him, no one else, who made his master smile like that, and a small fear crept in to Sam's mind. If he didn't act soon, he would loose Mister Frodo.

”Here.” Desperately Sam reached for a foamy sponge laying on an outside shelf of the bath. ”Let me rub your back, Mister Frodo.” Frodo smiled and nodded, but Legolas laughed softly.

”Take the other sponge too, Sam. I'll rub your back whiles you help your master.”

”Me?” Sam suddenly hesitated, taken off guard.

”Why of course.”

There was a lot of moving about in the bath to get the hobbits into position, and, much to Sam's embarrassment, a lot of skin touching and bodies sliding against each other, until, when at last he moved to sit down snugged in between his master and the elf, he had to hope that Frodo just thought it was Sam's updrawn foot that was touching him under the water. Frodo was practically sitting in his lap, his skin soft as velvet against Sam's, but then again, Sam was more or less in the lap of Legolas, and his smooth skin felt like silk. He shivered, almost unable to believe the wonderful situation, and softly moved the sponge over Frodo’s back, squeezing it to make the creamy soap pour out. Frodo’s sigh of content touched all Sam's frail nerves, making his hands uncertain, and he had to force himself to keep the sponge at safe places, mostly the neck and shoulders, the parts of his master that were above water. Then he felt the same soft pressure on his own back, soap trickling down his spine. Legolas didn't seem to be bothered with such restrictions; the sponge on Sams's back was moving far down under the water, sending new shivers through the hobbit, and then moved high to trickle warm water down on his shoulders. Sam had never had anybody do something like this to him, and the feelings of comfort and delight rippling through him were mixed with others, more dangerous.

Suddenly, the door was opened, and a chill wind made them all turn.

In the soft darkness, it took Sam a while to recognise the figure standing very still in the open door as Aragorn. Legolas, having apparently no such problem with the gloom, had stiffened the second the ranger walked in through the door, and Frodo’s back was going tense too, as he realised whom it was.

”Yes?” Legolas asked, a new tone in his voice now, one that Sam recognised as very elvish, aloof and cold. ”Did you want something?”

Beneath Sam's hands, Frodo seemed to try to sink further into the water which made him end up half-lying on Sam's chest. Behind Sam, Legolas hand was squeezing the sponge so hard that the foam would soon cover the entire bathing water.

Even to Sam, it was quite obvious what the ranger wanted, as his eyes didn't leave the naked figures in the bath for a second. The distress of the other two in the bath was equally clear, and although Sam didn't want the ranger to join them, he really didn't understand why both his master and the elf reacted with such force.

”I saw the steam,” Aragorn mumbled, his voice hoarse with emotions. ”I wanted to see if everything was alright.” His eyes asked clearly the question that he didn't voice, but there was something else in his glance as well, something that reminded Sam of what shone in Boromir’s eyes as he looked on the ring. A barely repressed shine of not just wanting, but of self-righteous owning.

”Everything is fine,” Legolas answered coldly, the long fingered hand on Sam's shoulder shivering with repressed emotions. ”Please shut the door behind you when you leave.”

A flash of anger lit Aragorn’s eyes at the rebuff, but he slowly walked out again, shutting the door behind him.

”I swear that Man is following me around,” Legolas muttered when the three of them were alone again.

”Yes,” Frodo nodded, still lying on Sam's chest, arms dangling on his legs, the faint touch sending disturbing feelings straight to Sam's groin. ”He does the same to me. But never mind that now. I think our backs are as clean as they get. Now we will repay the favour.”

Again they scuffled around the bath, until the two hobbits were sitting behind the elf, sponges in their hands. The supple muscles on his shoulders where hidden behind the fair hair, and Sam lifted a handful to expose the skin. The strands of hair glittered like gold in his callused hand; smoother and cleaner and softer than anything he had ever touched. On an impulse, he brushed the lock of hair over Frodo’s cheek, the soft tickling making his master laugh, a sound that bore new heat to Sam's blood.

Legolas’ back and shoulders were far wider than Frodo’s, and Sam marvelled over the way his muscles seemed to move like steel under the silk of his skin. He tried to stay above the water, on relatively safe areas, but Frodo’s hands kept disappeared under the surface again and again. Fear crept into Sam again as he saw the subtle game between the two of them. Any time now they would ask him to leave, to be alone, and he would be thrown out unwanted, like Aragorn had been...

But neither of them said anything, and when Legolas sank back in the water to wash off the soap with a content sigh, he wrapped one arm around each hobbit, pulling them down until they were laying snugly against his firm chest.

A sense of warm safety surrounded them, even as Sam was very aware of every inch of his body that touched the elf. For a while they lay still, content with luxuriating in the foamy, warm water.

Then Legolas’ fingers suddenly moved up, and started following the hobbits’ earlobes with small, delicate movements, his fingers warm and wet.

”Strange, is it not?” he mumbled drowsily, ”That hobbits are said to be closest related with Men, and yet the shape of your ears are not far from that of my kind.”

Sam felt his breathing change; the ears of a hobbit was very sensitive, an erogenous zone that the elf was now caressing so thoughtlessly...for it must be thoughtless, mustn't it?

Frodo gave Sam a wide-eyed look, dim with unhidden desire, as the faint caresses sent surges of arousal through both hobbits, and Sam felt his master take his hand under the water, and pressing it against his own chest. Under the soft skin, and the feel of a stiffened nipple, Sam could feel Frodo’s heart beating fast.

Frodo gave his shaken servant a michievous smile, and then Frodo turned his face up towards Legolas, wriggling to get further up towards the elf's face.

”Well,” he mumbled, ”perhaps we are more alike than you would think.” Deliciously slow, he let his tongue lick along the elf's curved ear, all the way up to the tip.

Sam, still pressed against Legolas’ body, felt the tremors of arousal running through the archer’s body, and in that instance, he knew that he had lost his master.

But Legolas did not seem to think so.

Instead, his hand left the hobbit’s ear and disappeared beneath the water; Sam grew stiff with disbelief and arousal as the long fingers started climbing up the inside of his legs. He looked up to see Frodo leaning down over him, and his eyes got even wider as Frodo’s lips pressed against his own, his master’s wet and sweet tongue entered his mouth.

Sam's hands seemed to have gotten a life of their own, moving over Legolas’ stomach, his chest, until the elf caught his fingers between his lips, and gently sucked them into his mouth.

The rest of Sam's memories from what happened afterwards would always be dizzy, more emotions than images. The feel of hands, long slim fingers and delicately small, moving over his body, touching him with tender and genuine lust and caring, the touch of fair skin under his own callused fingers as he sought to show the same, the strange taste of the elf's mouth and the sweet hobbit-like down-to-earth taste of his master, the arousing feelings of bodies surrounding him until he barely knew which was which.

He recalled sitting on the small shelf in the water, breathing hard as mouths worked to satisfy him, soft tongues around his most tender parts, and then doing the same to the others.

Only one thing disturbed the moment of perfect bliss; from the corner of his eye, he thought he could see a face at the window, a shadowy figure observing them, but that feeling soon drowned amongst the many others.

Several days after those dizzyingly wondrous moments, Sam accidentally stumbled over a tense conversation. He had been walking around the gardens of Rivendell, alone for once, when he heard hissing voices, one struggling to stay low under the impact of anger, and the other kept down by tension. He crept closer, silent as only a hobbit can, worried about the anger in the voices, and that he had heard this master’s name mentioned.

When he came closer, he realised that it was Legolas and Aragorn, standing very close together and talking with low, angered voices. Sam had seen the elf a few times since the wonderful bath experience, but the elf seemed content to leave him and Frodo to their new found pleasures. Aragorn had been nowhere in sight, and only now did Sam remember the incident that day.

”But why?” Aragorn was leaning very close to the elf, reaching out as if he wanted to touch him but didn't dare and there was confused, hurt pride in his stance. ”How can you prefer the hobbits to me?”

Legolas didn't lean away from the Man, but his stance spoke clearly that physical contact would not be appreciated.

”Why? Are you so blind? I would prefer the dwarf to you, and for one simple reason. Even Sam, sweet, innocent Sam, so shy and careful, understood what you do not. You do not wish to share something tender and pleasant with me - or Frodo, for that matter.”

”You think me so inexperienced, so...clumpsy? I could please anyone of you!”

”You do not wish to share! You wish to own, for us to be yours, for us to...submit to you!” The elf was now hissing with rage. ”It will not be so. We are not interested in being slaves to your will - yes, slaves!” He turned to go, but Aragorn grabbed his arm. Sam’s breath caught as the tension grew until it was an almost physical glow between them. At last, Legolas tore his arm free, and disappeared out of sight, leaving the ranger standing dazed with fury.

”This will not be the end,” he mumbled. ”I swear it!”

When he too had disappeared from the porch, Sam crept out of his hiding place, shaking with fear.

”I wont let anything happen to mister Frodo,” he swore to himself. ”I'll stay by his side what ever happens!”

*****

THE END

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