Title: Poured Down the Back
Fandom: Lord of the Rings 
Rating: G
Length: 216 words
Content notes: Intended to be gen, but may be read as romantic if you wish. 
Author notes: Title and quote from the Bath Song in LotR.
Summary: Sam and Frodo, in the springs in Valinor.

But Sam baulked. "Mr Frodo, if you don't mind, I'd rather the other way. Me bathing you."

"This isn't the Shire. There's no need to stand on class - at least, not amongst ourselves."

"It isn't that, Mr Frodo - though that's queer enough if you ask me, begging your pardon. It's only… everything's a bit too otherworldly, if you catch my meaning. Like Lothlórien - half a dream, and yet all too real."

If this was what Sam needed after months of sailing, it was the least Frodo could do. He leaned backwards, allowing Sam to massage warm orange-scented oil into his shoulders and spine with practiced fingers honed on years of hoeing and digging, kneading hard as though to ease old aches. This was followed by a luscious, leisurely soaping and lathering. Fifty years' absence had evidently not erased Sam's habit of tending to him, and Frodo had not the heart to remind him that Valinor had cleansed the Morgul-blade's damage.

"It is altogether like old times to have you here. It makes me feel fifty again," Frodo said, after a long silence. "Even 'water hot that smokes and steams' cannot bring back old friends. It has not felt homelike without your chatter."

Sam, quite overcome, sank down until only his nose was visible under the suds.