West of the Moon

A Tolkien Fanfiction Archive



An Awkward Position
In which Lobelia finds out more than she wanted to know.
Author: Lobelia Sackville-Baggins
Rating: R


It wasn't as if she was doing anything wrong. It was only that... explaining might be awkward.

After all, as Bilbo's next of kin and the one who should be rights have inherited Bag End before that Brandybuck whelp that the crazy old fool had adopted, Lobelia had every right to look at his will. After all, if there wasn't anything in it that could be contested, there should be no objections to making it public. And since she'd overheard Frodo telling Saradoc Brandybuck at the wedding reception that he'd brought a copy with him...

Lobelia paused with her hand on the doorknob of Frodo's room and glanced up and down the hall. If anyone asked, she could always say that she'd been looking for her own room and gotten lost; that was a perfectly reasonable thing to have done, if a bit undignified, considering the thoroughly inept way in which Brandy Hall's corridors had been laid out. Seeing no one, however, she opened the door and slipped inside.

Lads! she thought in disgust, surveying the room. Books and clothes were strewn everywhere, and it was undoubtedly only by the tireless efforts of that ridiculously devoted gardener of Frodo's that there was even room to walk; finding a piece of paper was going to be nigh on impossible. Well, it was the job never started that took the longest to finish. She headed for the chest of drawers and began to rummage.

Just as she opened the second drawer from the bottom, she heard footsteps in the hall, and - yes - Frodo's voice.

Lobelia jumped to her feet, or jumped as well as she could at her age, and looked frantically around. Her days of hiding under beds were long past, but that wardrobe was surely large enough for her to fit in, and hopefully Frodo would only be here for a moment; it was too early yet for him to be retiring. Gathering her skirts, she hustled into the wardrobe and pulled the door closed behind her just as the door to the room opened.

The door slammed shut again quickly, and there was the sound of rather frantic kissing. Lobelia rolled her eyes and groaned inwardly. Just my luck to have to listen to this. I hope at least he's chosen someone of good family, not a parlormaid - ridiculous Brandybucks and their libertine ways -

"Ah," Frodo said rather suddenly, and the bedsprings creaked. "Mm, that feels - I've been dying for this all day..."

Soft laughter, then, that was not a parlormaid's and not Frodo's, and a naggingly familiar voice whispered "My Frodo..." in a voice so intimate that Lobelia blushed to the tips of her ears - not the least because the voice was a lad's. Well, really! I knew the Brandybucks are steeped in iniquity but I never knew they were this bad. And whose voice was that? The accent was far too common -

"Come here and take what's yours, then, Sam dear," Frodo answered, breathless with laughter and desire, and Lobelia very nearly shrieked in horrified outrage. The gardener, of all people!

Surely not, she told herself. Surely even Frodo wasn't so lost to all propriety as to be tumbling his gardener. Against her better judgment, Lobelia opened the wardrobe door a crack and peered out.

He was. Their shirts were already unbuttoned and half off, and Sam Gamgee leaned over Frodo with his tongue busy in Frodo's mouth and his hand busy in his master's pants, of all things, and Lobelia smiled grimly at the thought of the talk she was going to have with the Gaffer when she got back to Hobbiton. Anyone who couldn't raise his children to know their place better than this -

Frodo was whimpering, pushing his hips up against Sam's hand and trying rather ineffectually to unbutton Sam's pants, and Lobelia decided that she had seen quite enough and closed the door again.

"Oh, Sam, Sam, ah -"

Lobelia rolled her eyes, crossed her arms, and drummed her fingers on her upper arm in silent impatience.

"Sam, wait, stop, I can't - I want to -"

"Ah, Frodo! "

Purely by accident, Lobelia tapped the wardrobe door in the process of shifting position, just enough for it to open a crack. Good gracious, Frodo Baggins, take that out of your mouth, you don't know where it's been, she thought, scandalized. And at any rate, it ought to be the gardener servicing Frodo, not the other way around, if such things absolutely had to be done. Frodo, with his usual utter disregard for propriety, seemed not to realize that, however; he was going about his task quite enthusiastically, soft sounds of contented pleasure muffled by Sam's... er, skin.

"Frodo, wait, come here," Sam gasped finally.

That's Mister Frodo to you, Samwise Gamgee, Lobelia thought crossly.

Frodo obeyed, not without a small pout, and Sam pulled him close and stripped off his shirt. "Ah, there. All day I've been wanting to see you out of them clothes."

"Don't they suit me?" Frodo laughed.

"Aye, they suit you well enough to make me think hard about just bending you over the drinks table and never mind about all your fancy relations milling around," Sam answered, and Lobelia went faint with outrage.

"Mm, that would have been quite a surprise," Frodo purred in a way that definitely did not convey the impression that the surprise would have been an unwelcome one. "If that's what you're wanting, wait here a moment and I'll get the oil."

For a nasty moment Lobelia wondered if he'd hidden the oil (and what they were about to use it for didn't bear thinking on) in the wardrobe; but when he moved, it was toward the nightstand, and Sam caught hold of him before he got far anyway.

"I'll wait here, all right, and your trousers'll keep me company."

Frodo laughed and wriggled accomodatingly out of his pants. "And what about you? Aren't you feeling a bit... mm... overdressed?"

If he is, he shouldn't be, Lobelia sniffed. He's taken quite enough liberties for one day.

But Sam only chuckled and let Frodo relieve him of his clothes; and sheer mortification at seeing a servant naked nearly killed Lobelia on the spot. By the time she'd recovered a bit, Frodo had returned from the nightstand with something held in his hand. They'd moved a bit, out of her line of sight; and, just her luck, her leg began to cramp in such a way that shifting to ease it brought them back into full view. Cursed leg.

"Lay back, then," Sam urged, pressing Frodo gently back against the bed. "Ah, you're a beauty..."

His mouth trailed from Frodo's lips down to his neck, making Frodo sigh and moan; and from there to his nipples, and good heavens, Lobelia hadn't known that lads liked that at all, let alone liked it that much. Trust a Brandybuck to like strange things. And speaking of strange, there was Sam covering his fingers with oil and slipping his hand down between Frodo's legs to - well, even standing on her toes Lobelia couldn't quite see what he was doing but Frodo clearly loved it. His fist tangled in Sam's hair and he arched upward, pushing his hips against Sam's hand, sharp cries muffled against Sam's mouth.

"Sam, please, now," Frodo sobbed, making Lobelia scowl - really, begging like that, and with his gardener, had the lad not an ounce of the Baggins pride?

"Easy, now," Sam whispered breathlessly. "It'll hurt if we go too quick."

"I don't care if it ahSamyesrighththere! Don't tell me you haven't been - ohyes - as wound up all afternoon as I have..."

Sam laughed and leaned down to nip softly at Frodo's lower lip. "Aye, I couldn't tell you that with a straight face. All right, then, turn round - there, come here."

Frodo settled in against Sam, his back to Sam's front, wriggling impatiently and making Sam gasp a little. Out of the line of Lobelia's sight, Sam did something with the oil; then, as Frodo hooked his top leg back over Sam's - good heavens, but the lad was flexible - Sam pushed his hips slowly forward, making Frodo yowl like an alley cat and writhe against him.

"Does it -" Sam gasped.

"No, keep - ohdon'tstop -"

"Ah, Frodo -"

A moment's pause and then Sam slammed his hips forward, clapping his hand over Frodo's mouth just in time to muffle a cry that half of Buckland would probably have heard. Really, Lobelia thought, did they have to be so loud about it? And she still couldn't quite figure out what - although it looked like, but surely not -

Frodo drove back against Sam, shifting his position just enough to make it abundantly clear what the Gamgee lad was up to, and Lobelia had to steady herself against the wall to avoid fainting from sheer shock. It didn't help that the wardrobe was so hot suddenly - there must be almost no air flow in it at all. Really, there would be a talk with the Gaffer about this and no mistake -

Sam moved a little, reaching down with his free hand to angle Frodo's hip back toward him, and on the next thrust Frodo's whole body snapped like a sheet on washday and he gripped Sam's arm almost hard enough to bruise. For a moment he seemed almost not to have breath enough to cry out; then his breath came back in a rush of Oh, Sam, more!

Must you encourage him? Lobelia thought irritably.

Sam's hand slipped downward from Frodo's hip to clasp gently around him, stroking once, twice, and then Frodo sobbed and -

Well! I feel sorry for whoever has to launder those sheets.

Sam was only a breath or two behind; and then, when the shudders had ceased, he collapsed onto the bed and pulled Frodo close against him.

"Mm," he said finally. "That was nice."

Frodo laughed, eyes drifting blissfully shut. "Brief, but wonderful."

"Aye, well, we've hours yet until dinner," Sam answered drowsily.

Oh, no. If I have to sit in here until dinner... Curse all Brandybucks anyway, and all Gamgees into the bargain! Lobelia came very close to tapping her foot before realizing that it would be unwise.

"True. Time enough for a nap. You've quite worn me out."

Sam reached for the coverlet and flipped it over the pair of them, not minding the fact that their heads were nowhere near the pillows. "Close your eyes, then, love, and rest a bit. We'll wake in time for dinner."

Frodo's mouth curved in a slow smile. "Hopefully with time to spare."

Sam laughed and kissed Frodo's hair. "Aye, time enough. Rest now."

Still wary, Lobelia waited until Frodo's breathing had been deep and even for some time, and Sam snoring lightly, before she slipped out of the wardrobe and through the door - thankfully without anyone noticing. It wasn't until she was back in her own room that she felt free to give full vent to her feelings:

"Well! The... the very idea! "

And worst of all, Bilbo's will would have to wait for another time.


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