Title: Between Friends: Sam & Gimli
Summary: Sam misses Frodo and Gimli comforts him...
Pairing: Gimli/Samwise Gamgee
Warning: Slash. Dwarf Nudity. Giant Serpent.
Rating: Hard R leaning towards NC-17
Notes: Written by request for Angelica Headstrong
Archive: All archivists are welcome to use this tale with proper credit, just let me know where!
Feedback: Very, very welcome!!
Disclaimers: Characters belong to Tolkien.

Samwise Gamgee should have been deliriously happy tonight. His wife, Rosie, had just given birth to a beautiful, healthy baby boy, and most of his dearest friends had gathered in the Shire to celebrate. Even Legolas and Gimli had come from who knew what adventure they had been out having, bringing with them an expansive but odd assortment of gifts.

Yes, his newest child, their second, was healthy and well, as was his wife, but Sam was still sad. He sat outside on the step of Bag-end drinking a mug of ale while the small but merry gathering went on inside. Sam stared up at the starry sky and wished he did not feel so lonely in that moment. He knew why, and there was nothing to be done for it aside to drink and try to forget, and try to celebrate the new arrival.

The door opened and Sam did not turn around to see who was coming out of the Hobbit hole. He figured he would know soon enough, and he certainly did.

"Sammy, my lad!" roared Gimli, slapping Sam on the back and waving his own sloshing mug of ale as he lowered himself onto the stoop beside the melancholy Hobbit. "Why the long face?"

"It's been a year," Sam said, not turning to look at the ebullient Dwarf. He tilted his mug back but it was empty now. Gimli generously poured half of his brew into Sam's cup. Sam was very fond of him in that moment and silently drank the offering.

"A year?" said Gimli with some concern. His brushy brow furrowed and he set aside his cup to count on his fingers. "It cannot have been a year, Master Samwise. It may have been nine months, at the most, but surely not a year. I am fairly certain that the gestation period for Hobbits is the same as for Dwarves, although Legolas tells me it takes an elf-child a full year to be born. So ye must have lain with your wife--"

"Not that!" Sam cried, filled with frustration. "Frodo!"

"Frodo?"

"It has been a year since Frodo sailed off in that grey ship to the lands over yonder and left me behind."

"Ohhh," Gimli said, his normally sunken eyes widening so much that for the first time, Sam noticed their color, a glittering golden brown that reminded Sam of a rare gem. The expression lasted only for a moment before it settled into one of commiseration. "Forgive me, lad. M'sorry, of course. We all miss the wee Ringbearer."

"I... it's all right," Sam said. Gimli poured the rest of his ale into Sam's cup and Sam looked at him gratefully. He drank down the brew and felt it rush straight to his head.

"'Twas special, what the two of you shared," Gimli said solemnly. "Not even a fine wife like Mistress Rose can replace what's shared between two males....two equals."

"It breaks my hear to even think that," Sam replied softly. "But Mr. Frodo was never my equal. He was always my better, he was."

"Don't say that, Samwise," Gimli said. "You are a fine Hobbit. Samwise the Brave, you are."

Sam gave Gimli a half-smile. "I've been called that," he admitted.

"And you still are that."

"Thanks, Gimli."

"Quite welcome indeed. Say now, you must have been pleased by the stacks of gifts brought for your new son!"

Sam smiled slowly. He was grateful for Gimli's effort to cheer him up, even though it was not working. "Course I was, and Rose, too," he said, "Though I can say as I know what a baby will do with a battle-axe."

"That was from me," Gimli said, frowning.

"Was it?" Sam should have known that. The ale had gone straight to his head.

"That axe has a pure mithril blade. It can cleave an orc in two with one slice. It can behead a warg with two strokes. It can fell a small forest in an hour," Gimli said, getting louder and louder.

"It is a very nice gift, Gimli," Sam said a bit nervously. "Truly it is. Only there's not so many orcs and wargs 'round the Shire, and it's going to be a few years before I send the boy out choppin' wood."

"Well, when you do," said Gimli, apparently mollified, "He'll be prepared."

"That he will," said Sam. "That he will."

Gimli apparently was not done extolling the virtues of his gift. "The blade is imperishable. The only thing that could break it was cast into the fire by your friend."

Tears filled Sam's eyes. He did not want to remember the thing which sat on his heart like a lead weight. "I know," he said, but his voice choked up.

"Oh," said Gimli, "There, there. I think you've had a wee bit too much ale, lad. You need to walk it off."

"Do I?" said Sam. He was not at all sure that walking was what he needed, but he let the Dwarf pull him to his feet anyway.

"A short stroll will do us both a world of good," said Gimli confidently, and he proceeded to steer Sam down the walk and straight into the gate post. It caught Sam in the stomach and knocked the wind out of him. "Oops, sorry, lad."

"It's all right," Sam gasped.

He could barely feel what would no doubt be a bruise tomorrow due to the amount of ale he'd had. Gimli finally got the gate unlatched and this time when he pushed Sam through, there was no collision. Once the immediate danger had passed, Sam stopped paying attention to where Gimli was leading him and just let the Dwarf haul him along. Gimli was a half a foot taller than Sam, so this was easy for him to do. Sam took a deep breath of clean evening air and became aware of another scent. Gimli smelled of ale and pipe tobacco and some sort of berry pie that one of his relatives had made underlain with mint, and Sam found it extremely pleasant.

Gimli stopped walking and let go of Sam, who immediately sat down plunk on his behind in the grass. The choices now seemed to be lying down or standing back up, so Sam lay down in the grass on his back and looked up at the trees and the stars peeking through them. He knew they were atop one of the many hills of the Shire, near the stream. The sound of rushing water told him it was not far off.

"Are y'all right, laddie?" Gimli asked with concern, leaning over Sam to peer down at him.

"Much better," Sam replied quickly, not wanting to get back up. "Come and have a look."

The Dwarf sat down with much effort in the grass next to Sam. "Look at what?"

"The stars. The sky. Do you suppose Frodo's lookin' at them same stars? Lie back and look."

The heavens were a riotous blanket tonight, blue that faded into black and peppered with millions of points of light. It near took Sam's breath away.

"A lovely sight indeed," said Gimli, and Sam could smell again the mintiness of his breath. Sam turned his head. Gimli was not looking at the sky. He was staring down at Sam. "You're a rare sight, Samwise Gamgee. Honest and loyal, and good to your friends."

Before Sam could think of a way to thank Gimli for the compliment, the Dwarf had leaned forward and pressed his lips to Sam's. Never in his life had Sam thought of kissing Gimli, but when the shock of the odd occurrence passed, he found he rather liked it. The Dwarf's lips were soft and warm, and his mouth tasted sweet. The thick beard pressed against his face was not the least bit scratchy. Sam opened his own mouth and felt Gimli's tongue snake in to touch his own.

When Gimli pulled back, Sam lay panting on the grass. His body was full of urges that he had been suppressing for a long time. He turned his head and looked at Gimli, who was smiling at him. "Gimli--"

Gimli pressed a finger to Sam's lips. "Be careful. I know what you're about to ask for, lad, and I'll give it ye, but a warning comes attached--"

"A warning?" Sam asked.

"Once you have Dwarf, you never go back."

Sam took a deep breath. "Well," he said, "Let's see if that's true."

Gimli's golden brown eyes gleamed in the starlight and he chuckled wickedly deep in his throat. He said no more, but went to work at unbuttoning Sam's vest and shirt, baring his chest quickly. The Dwarf's hands caressed Sam's flesh almost tenderly as he explored the Hobbit's skin. Sam's trousers came down suddenly and he found Gimli's beard pressed against an unexpected place. Sam let out a moan as he arched his back, and he was not entirely sure in that moment that the Dwarf's warning wasn't right.

"You've got a tongue like a snake," Sam groaned. Gimli lifted his head just before Sam could expire in his mouth.

"And that's not the only snake-like part of my body," Gimli bragged.

Sam could not take his eyes off the robust Dwarf as he began to undress. He was even more hairy than Sam could have predicted, and even fully naked it was hard to see any of his body… snake aside. Sam's eyes widened.

"Mother of Merry," he muttered softly.

"Impressive, no? But don't worry, Master Samwise, the ride will be a pleasant one."

"Th-that's going to hurt!" said Sam, but he was excited nonetheless. He pushed his legs apart in anticipation.

"Not to worry, I've something to ease the passage." Gimli withdrew a packet from his abandoned coat and Sam would not see what it was, but when Gimli spread it over his massive serpent it glittered in the starlight and Sam knew it was well-oiled.

Gimli moved quickly over Sam and positioned himself to enter the dazed Hobbit. Sam did not want to think of the wrongs or rights of this encounter, so he threw his arms around the Dwarf's neck and kissed him again. Almost before he realized it, Gimli was moving inside him and the friction between them caused Sam to explode like one of Gandalf's fireworks. Inside his head were explosions of yellow and red and blue and green. After a few minutes the Dwarf groaned and Sam was flooded with his hot spill.

Gimli kept his arms around Sam as they lay for many hours in the grass together, unwilling to get up and return to Bag-end. Neither spoke, and had it not been for the fact that Sam knew that Gimli snored like a bear, he would have suspected that the Dwarf had fallen asleep.

"Gimli?" he said after a while.

"Yes, dear lad?"

"Thank you."

"Not feelin' so lonely, now, are ye?" Gimli said fondly.

"No, not so much," Sam said, and it was true. "Guess I've got to appreciate the folks I've got round me here and not be weepin' for those left behind."

"That's very true," said Gimli, "But it need not mean you forget your Frodo, either."

"No," said Sam, but he felt a little doubtful.

"Will you do one thing?" Gimli asked. "For me. And yourself as well."

"Anything," said Sam.

"Name your new son Frodo."

"I will," Sam promised. And he did.