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Jan. 2nd, 2004 10:22 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
claudia603This came about because of a certain challenge from some Frodohealers in which I chose a random medicine from a shelf in a drug store and wrote a Frodo fic about it. I think you can guess which medicine it was.
Too long to wait: An Unpleasant Remedy
Frodo is about seven months along here…
Disclaimer: Don’t own anything. Don’t make any money off it.
Frodo could not sleep. The pain seized the bottom of his rounded belly and spread upward until everything hurt from his ribs up to his heart.
He glanced at Aragorn, who stirred and sighed in peaceful sleep.
“No, I cannot bear to wake him.” Nobody had told Frodo what his pains would feel like when they came in earnest, but he knew this was far too early. He took in a deep breath, and fierce claws dug into him. This time, he could not help but cry out.
Aragorn’s eyes flew open, and instantly he was up, supported on one of his elbows, his free hand on Frodo’s brow. “Frodo?”
“There’s pain,” Frodo managed. Aragorn pulled away long enough to light the lantern on the bedside table. He turned back to Frodo and now laid his hand on Frodo’s stomach.
“Where?”
Frodo ran his fingers over his huge belly. “All over…It feels…no, it is not the same as when my pains started after I fell on the stairs.”
Aragorn’s face relaxed somewhat. “Is it sharp…or cramping?”
“Very sharp.”
Aragorn suddenly smiled and pulled his hand away. He climbed off the bed and pulled on his leggings. “Hold on, Frodo. I shall be back.”
Frodo smiled back at him, puzzled, but Aragorn offered no explanation. After Aragorn left their chamber, Frodo tried very hard to relax, kneading his hands into his bloated stomach. The baby moved inside him, clearly restless in sleep. If Aragorn was no longer concerned, then he should not be, either. Aragorn would not have smiled if he thought there was even a chance that Frodo’s pain could signal an alarming ailment.
When Aragorn returned, he had a tiny bowl with a thick, foul-smelling mixture.
Frodo wrinkled his nose. “It smells like mud.” In actuality, it smelled a lot worse, but he was a gentlehobbit at heart and did not feel the need to describe exactly what the mixture smelled like. “You do not expect me to put this to my lips, surely?”
Aragorn nodded. “Swallow it.”
Frodo knew better than to try to refuse a concoction that Aragorn had made for him. Far better to just obey now than to go through the trouble of refusing but ultimately losing. He gave Aragorn a final pleading look, but the king’s eyes were steely. Frodo took a breath, trying not to breathe out of his nose, and swallowed. The mud-like liquid tasted far worse than anything he could have imagined. He had nearly swallowed it all, when he gagged, and for a horrifying moment, he thought it would all come up again. Aragorn thrust a cloth at his chin to catch the liquid that did not make it down his throat. Thankfully, Frodo’s stomach settled without extracting its new content.
“Do not be surprised if you start to feel much better – very soon.” Aragorn said, the corners of his mouth twitching. “And if you do not mind, I shall be in the baby’s room…working on the crib.”
Frodo grabbed Aragorn’s arm. “In the middle of the night? You are amused by something…What is it?”
“Let us say that I do not wish to be in the same room with you when this medicine takes effect.”
Frodo was so stunned that he dropped Aragorn’s arm. The same man who was always so sympathetic when Frodo was ill, who always wanted to be with him, holding him, was now deliberately leaving him alone to suffer!
“This is just a fact of your condition,” Aragorn said, nodding at the swollen belly. “There can sometimes be a buildup inside of…well, gases and –“
Frodo’s cheeks burned as he felt embarrassing pressure on his bottom. “Oh, dear.”
“So you see, my darling,” Aragorn said, grinning. “I love you with all my heart, but I will be in the next room until you feel better.” With that, the heartless man slipped into the baby’s room as promised and began to work with what would soon be the crib.
“Confound him,” Frodo whispered, unable to keep the smile from his own face. Well, there was nothing to do but to just let everything go.
Too long to wait: An Unpleasant Remedy
Frodo is about seven months along here…
Disclaimer: Don’t own anything. Don’t make any money off it.
Frodo could not sleep. The pain seized the bottom of his rounded belly and spread upward until everything hurt from his ribs up to his heart.
He glanced at Aragorn, who stirred and sighed in peaceful sleep.
“No, I cannot bear to wake him.” Nobody had told Frodo what his pains would feel like when they came in earnest, but he knew this was far too early. He took in a deep breath, and fierce claws dug into him. This time, he could not help but cry out.
Aragorn’s eyes flew open, and instantly he was up, supported on one of his elbows, his free hand on Frodo’s brow. “Frodo?”
“There’s pain,” Frodo managed. Aragorn pulled away long enough to light the lantern on the bedside table. He turned back to Frodo and now laid his hand on Frodo’s stomach.
“Where?”
Frodo ran his fingers over his huge belly. “All over…It feels…no, it is not the same as when my pains started after I fell on the stairs.”
Aragorn’s face relaxed somewhat. “Is it sharp…or cramping?”
“Very sharp.”
Aragorn suddenly smiled and pulled his hand away. He climbed off the bed and pulled on his leggings. “Hold on, Frodo. I shall be back.”
Frodo smiled back at him, puzzled, but Aragorn offered no explanation. After Aragorn left their chamber, Frodo tried very hard to relax, kneading his hands into his bloated stomach. The baby moved inside him, clearly restless in sleep. If Aragorn was no longer concerned, then he should not be, either. Aragorn would not have smiled if he thought there was even a chance that Frodo’s pain could signal an alarming ailment.
When Aragorn returned, he had a tiny bowl with a thick, foul-smelling mixture.
Frodo wrinkled his nose. “It smells like mud.” In actuality, it smelled a lot worse, but he was a gentlehobbit at heart and did not feel the need to describe exactly what the mixture smelled like. “You do not expect me to put this to my lips, surely?”
Aragorn nodded. “Swallow it.”
Frodo knew better than to try to refuse a concoction that Aragorn had made for him. Far better to just obey now than to go through the trouble of refusing but ultimately losing. He gave Aragorn a final pleading look, but the king’s eyes were steely. Frodo took a breath, trying not to breathe out of his nose, and swallowed. The mud-like liquid tasted far worse than anything he could have imagined. He had nearly swallowed it all, when he gagged, and for a horrifying moment, he thought it would all come up again. Aragorn thrust a cloth at his chin to catch the liquid that did not make it down his throat. Thankfully, Frodo’s stomach settled without extracting its new content.
“Do not be surprised if you start to feel much better – very soon.” Aragorn said, the corners of his mouth twitching. “And if you do not mind, I shall be in the baby’s room…working on the crib.”
Frodo grabbed Aragorn’s arm. “In the middle of the night? You are amused by something…What is it?”
“Let us say that I do not wish to be in the same room with you when this medicine takes effect.”
Frodo was so stunned that he dropped Aragorn’s arm. The same man who was always so sympathetic when Frodo was ill, who always wanted to be with him, holding him, was now deliberately leaving him alone to suffer!
“This is just a fact of your condition,” Aragorn said, nodding at the swollen belly. “There can sometimes be a buildup inside of…well, gases and –“
Frodo’s cheeks burned as he felt embarrassing pressure on his bottom. “Oh, dear.”
“So you see, my darling,” Aragorn said, grinning. “I love you with all my heart, but I will be in the next room until you feel better.” With that, the heartless man slipped into the baby’s room as promised and began to work with what would soon be the crib.
“Confound him,” Frodo whispered, unable to keep the smile from his own face. Well, there was nothing to do but to just let everything go.
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no subject
Date: 2004-01-02 07:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-01-02 07:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-01-02 08:00 pm (UTC)I could imagine his face when Aragorn decided to leave the room, leaving him alone to suffer! Poor round hobbit---I do hope our king went back in er, later, to give him much-needed cuddling.
*feels a sense of relaxation at getting a new MPREG fix*
no subject
Date: 2004-01-02 08:05 pm (UTC)Glad you enjoyed Frodo's ah...condition.
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Date: 2004-01-02 08:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-01-03 06:12 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-01-03 01:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-01-03 02:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-01-02 08:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-01-02 08:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-01-02 10:04 pm (UTC)*snort*
Well, there was nothing to do but to just let everything go.
Bwahaha. Ah, the intimate joys of married life. I don't blame Aragorn for finding something to do in another room. I hope their chamber is very airy. :-D
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Date: 2004-01-03 06:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-01-02 10:08 pm (UTC)*cackles*
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Date: 2004-01-03 06:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-01-02 11:44 pm (UTC)This is priceless... I'm speechless. Yep. *giggles again*
My doggy seems to suspect that I'm mad. :-D
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Date: 2004-01-03 06:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-01-03 04:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-01-03 06:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-01-03 05:26 am (UTC)I hope they've heard of air freshener in Minas Tirith, or Aragorn will be coming home to the very *ahem* thing he had hoped to avoid. And I hope Frodo didn't bother to open the window.
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Date: 2004-01-03 06:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-01-03 06:03 pm (UTC);)
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Date: 2004-01-03 06:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-01-04 12:50 pm (UTC)~Ellie Withywindle~ aka Frodo obsessed
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Date: 2004-01-04 06:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-01-05 02:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-01-07 07:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-01-08 02:27 am (UTC)