Drabble: Through the Wasteland
Nov. 18th, 2010 06:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
claudia603A few more older drabbles for indexing purposes...
Outside Meduseld, Aragorn peered into the fading dim late winter light. Snow-capped mountains gleamed in the distance. Somewhere beyond those peaks—
Aragorn’s throat caught and he clenched his hands. That his sweet Frodo had to endure the wastelands – the burning, blistering land full of poison and hatred and a malicious eye that never slept.
Aragorn’s hand crept into his breeches and he took himself in hand, remembering a smaller but more insistent hand, a light giggle, and sweet blue eyes.
He stroked, picturing pink nipples, swollen from lustful bites, smooth skin marked with desperate fingers, and Frodo’s heavy, gasping breaths that Aragorn had to muffle so often from Hollin to Lorien.
Outside Meduseld, Aragorn peered into the fading dim late winter light. Snow-capped mountains gleamed in the distance. Somewhere beyond those peaks—
Aragorn’s throat caught and he clenched his hands. That his sweet Frodo had to endure the wastelands – the burning, blistering land full of poison and hatred and a malicious eye that never slept.
Aragorn’s hand crept into his breeches and he took himself in hand, remembering a smaller but more insistent hand, a light giggle, and sweet blue eyes.
He stroked, picturing pink nipples, swollen from lustful bites, smooth skin marked with desperate fingers, and Frodo’s heavy, gasping breaths that Aragorn had to muffle so often from Hollin to Lorien.