(no subject)
Nov. 25th, 2002 07:36 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
claudia603Heh. This is definitely dedicated to Lily :-). Ya know...in case you're new...this involves MPRG...so if it squicks, don't read.
This snippet of TLTW takes place about 3 months BEFORE Ellohir is born.
Thanks everyone, for your feedback on this uh…unusual…story. :-)
“Come, Frodo, I do not have all day to linger at breakfast!” Aragorn called from the small table in their chamber now laden with bread, strawberries, mushrooms, and a fresh pound cake dribbled with rich chocolate. “It’s not like a hobbit to be late for a meal!”
“Have pity on an old slug!” Frodo said, treading heavily toward the table. Though his voice had been light, he flushed with irritation at Aragorn’s teasing. Each step sent pinpricks of pain into his swollen ankles, and he was already out of breath. He could not imagine how he would endure four more months of an ever-increasing girth. Already the skin on his stomach felt like it could not possibly stretch more.
“You’re not that old,” Aragorn said, keeping a straight face. “But I will not quarrel about the slug part.”
Frodo cuffed him lightly on the cheek, and Aragorn seized his wrist, pulling the hobbit to him. Laughing, Aragorn laid his other hand on Frodo’s swollen belly. “I don’t feel anything.”
“Oh, he or she’s been kicking, all right,” Frodo said, pulling out of Aragorn’s grasp. His throat filled and he felt an unexplainable urge to weep. “Kept me awake all night. And look, Aragorn. Look at my feet. They’re huge.”
Aragorn started to laugh again, but he stopped at the sight of Frodo’s scowl. “I know what you would say!” Frodo said. “But they’re bigger than normal. They’re swollen and they hurt!”
“Come, Frodo, sit down and relax. I will send Koslorn up to tend to you. He no doubt has an ointment that will soothe your feet.”
“I don’t want Koslorn.” Frodo felt very close to tears, and he was angry with himself. He had not planned to ruin this nice breakfast with his frustration. Before he had expanded to the point of discomfort, he had stayed active -- helping Aragorn in his duties of king; traveling to villages near Minas Tirith to talk to children about the War, though Aragorn had finally forbidden that out of a fear that Frodo could fall from the pony; lately he had sometimes helped Koslorn in his duties. But in recent days his life had completely changed to that of complete inactivity. Even minimal walking sped his heart until he could barely breathe. Most days, he napped almost all afternoon. The small of his back felt as though he had been beaten repeatedly by a heavy brick. But worst of all, he imagined that he could see himself through Aragorn’s eyes as a repulsive and unnatural creature. Certainly, the man no longer tried to seek him out in bed.
Aragorn took both of Frodo’s hands in his and squeezed gently. “Why are you cross with me, Frodo?”
Frodo sighed. Whatever he said would sound selfish and self-pitying. After all, he could hardly blame Aragorn for his frustration. “No, I’m not cross…with you. But…I’m uncomfortable and I…It’s difficult for me to do much walking…So I cannot visit the library or talk to anyone.”
“Do you wish me to bring you books from the library? You have only to ask.”
“Yes…I mean, no,” Frodo sighed and gestured to his stomach. His throat filled. How could Aragorn look so unaffected? Well, wasn’t that obvious? His life had not been turned upside down. He didn’t wake up in pain, with swollen ankles and an aching back, and a fluttering heart. Never mind that he was king and held the responsibility of nearly all of Middle earth –- he had had some part in this…miracle…and the fact that he did not have to suffer at all from it, made Frodo’s chest burn with sudden rage. “You’re not the one who is carrying this baby – that is, hopefully it’s a baby and not some monstrosity…”
“Come now,” Aragorn said softly, trying to reach for Frodo, but the hobbit pulled away in a fury.
“Confound you!” Frodo suddenly yelled, taking pleasure in watching Aragorn’s eyes widen with shock. “You go on with your life and I’m imprisoned up here all day! I don’t feel myself, I don’t know if I’ll survive this—“
He instantly regretted his outburst when he saw Aragorn’s jaw clench and his gray eyes darken with worry. He knew how hard Aragorn tried not to burden Frodo with his own fear for Frodo’s health.
“Do you wish me to stay with you?” Aragorn asked quietly. “At least during the morning?”
Frodo looked down, his cheeks hot with shame. “I am sorry. I did not mean to…no, you don’t have to.”
Aragorn gathered Frodo in a gentle embrace, and the hobbit lay his head on Aragorn’s shoulder, feeling weak from his flare-up, but warm and safe.
“I’m sorry, Aragorn,” he said again.
“Come,” Aragorn said softly. “I have an idea.” He lifted Frodo, but swayed a little, letting out a small chuckle. “I am not accustomed to your extra weight.”
“Don’t strain your back,” Frodo said, kissing Aragorn’s nose. He should not have burst out in such anger. Aragorn was so good to him. Another in Aragorn’s position might have come to take for granted the one he loved, not out of maliciousness but because the duties of a king were many, and one hobbit might seem rather insignificant compared to an entire kingdom. But Aragorn had always made as much time as possible for Frodo, even now, after ten years, and especially now, when Frodo could not possibly pleasure him in any way.
Aragorn set the hobbit gently on the huge bed, inserting pillows behind his back and under his calves. He climbed on the bed, sitting cross-legged at Frodo’s feet, and took one swollen foot in his hands, massaging with gentle, probing circles. Frodo sighed and closed his eyes, leaning against the pillows. “This is lovely.”
Aragorn only smiled and kept rubbing. Frodo sank into a blissful doze while the gentle, callused hands rubbed both of his feet.
“Better?” Aragorn finally asked.
“Much. Thank you, Aragorn.”
“I’ll be back.”
Frodo sighed in sleepy contentment as Aragorn went back to the table and filled a plate with strawberries, cake, and mushrooms.
“It won’t do to see this good food go to waste.” He sat beside Frodo, leaning against the headboard.
“Aragorn…” Frodo said, scooting close, leaning his head against Aragorn’s chest. “You’re sweet to me after…what I said to you…” He smiled up at him as Aragorn put his arm around him and squeezed. “You could have thrown me in the dungeons for insulting the king!”
“I have a better punishment in mind,” Aragorn said, propping the plate full of food on Frodo’s bloated abdomen. It tilted, and the contents nearly spilled. Frodo laughed, grabbing it.
“Frodo, you must eat every bite.”
“I am not hungry.”
Aragorn held a strawberry to Frodo’s pink lips. Frodo looked up at him, trying to muster a scowl but instead giggling at the idea of the King of Gondor feeding strawberries to a hobbit heavy with child. He opened his mouth, allowing entry for the plump red fruit. The taste was marvelous, waking his appetite.
“More please.”
Aragorn laughed. “Yes, this is more like a hobbit.”
All morning, the king sat beside him, feeding him strawberries, mushrooms, and last, pieces of pound cake…until every crumb was gone.
“I’m very sleepy now,” Frodo said, his eyes closing on their own.
“I should say,” Aragorn said, taking the plate from Frodo’s abdomen and setting it on the bedside table. He moved again to the end of the bed and massaged Frodo’s feet until the hobbit fell into an immediate and content sleep.
This snippet of TLTW takes place about 3 months BEFORE Ellohir is born.
Thanks everyone, for your feedback on this uh…unusual…story. :-)
“Come, Frodo, I do not have all day to linger at breakfast!” Aragorn called from the small table in their chamber now laden with bread, strawberries, mushrooms, and a fresh pound cake dribbled with rich chocolate. “It’s not like a hobbit to be late for a meal!”
“Have pity on an old slug!” Frodo said, treading heavily toward the table. Though his voice had been light, he flushed with irritation at Aragorn’s teasing. Each step sent pinpricks of pain into his swollen ankles, and he was already out of breath. He could not imagine how he would endure four more months of an ever-increasing girth. Already the skin on his stomach felt like it could not possibly stretch more.
“You’re not that old,” Aragorn said, keeping a straight face. “But I will not quarrel about the slug part.”
Frodo cuffed him lightly on the cheek, and Aragorn seized his wrist, pulling the hobbit to him. Laughing, Aragorn laid his other hand on Frodo’s swollen belly. “I don’t feel anything.”
“Oh, he or she’s been kicking, all right,” Frodo said, pulling out of Aragorn’s grasp. His throat filled and he felt an unexplainable urge to weep. “Kept me awake all night. And look, Aragorn. Look at my feet. They’re huge.”
Aragorn started to laugh again, but he stopped at the sight of Frodo’s scowl. “I know what you would say!” Frodo said. “But they’re bigger than normal. They’re swollen and they hurt!”
“Come, Frodo, sit down and relax. I will send Koslorn up to tend to you. He no doubt has an ointment that will soothe your feet.”
“I don’t want Koslorn.” Frodo felt very close to tears, and he was angry with himself. He had not planned to ruin this nice breakfast with his frustration. Before he had expanded to the point of discomfort, he had stayed active -- helping Aragorn in his duties of king; traveling to villages near Minas Tirith to talk to children about the War, though Aragorn had finally forbidden that out of a fear that Frodo could fall from the pony; lately he had sometimes helped Koslorn in his duties. But in recent days his life had completely changed to that of complete inactivity. Even minimal walking sped his heart until he could barely breathe. Most days, he napped almost all afternoon. The small of his back felt as though he had been beaten repeatedly by a heavy brick. But worst of all, he imagined that he could see himself through Aragorn’s eyes as a repulsive and unnatural creature. Certainly, the man no longer tried to seek him out in bed.
Aragorn took both of Frodo’s hands in his and squeezed gently. “Why are you cross with me, Frodo?”
Frodo sighed. Whatever he said would sound selfish and self-pitying. After all, he could hardly blame Aragorn for his frustration. “No, I’m not cross…with you. But…I’m uncomfortable and I…It’s difficult for me to do much walking…So I cannot visit the library or talk to anyone.”
“Do you wish me to bring you books from the library? You have only to ask.”
“Yes…I mean, no,” Frodo sighed and gestured to his stomach. His throat filled. How could Aragorn look so unaffected? Well, wasn’t that obvious? His life had not been turned upside down. He didn’t wake up in pain, with swollen ankles and an aching back, and a fluttering heart. Never mind that he was king and held the responsibility of nearly all of Middle earth –- he had had some part in this…miracle…and the fact that he did not have to suffer at all from it, made Frodo’s chest burn with sudden rage. “You’re not the one who is carrying this baby – that is, hopefully it’s a baby and not some monstrosity…”
“Come now,” Aragorn said softly, trying to reach for Frodo, but the hobbit pulled away in a fury.
“Confound you!” Frodo suddenly yelled, taking pleasure in watching Aragorn’s eyes widen with shock. “You go on with your life and I’m imprisoned up here all day! I don’t feel myself, I don’t know if I’ll survive this—“
He instantly regretted his outburst when he saw Aragorn’s jaw clench and his gray eyes darken with worry. He knew how hard Aragorn tried not to burden Frodo with his own fear for Frodo’s health.
“Do you wish me to stay with you?” Aragorn asked quietly. “At least during the morning?”
Frodo looked down, his cheeks hot with shame. “I am sorry. I did not mean to…no, you don’t have to.”
Aragorn gathered Frodo in a gentle embrace, and the hobbit lay his head on Aragorn’s shoulder, feeling weak from his flare-up, but warm and safe.
“I’m sorry, Aragorn,” he said again.
“Come,” Aragorn said softly. “I have an idea.” He lifted Frodo, but swayed a little, letting out a small chuckle. “I am not accustomed to your extra weight.”
“Don’t strain your back,” Frodo said, kissing Aragorn’s nose. He should not have burst out in such anger. Aragorn was so good to him. Another in Aragorn’s position might have come to take for granted the one he loved, not out of maliciousness but because the duties of a king were many, and one hobbit might seem rather insignificant compared to an entire kingdom. But Aragorn had always made as much time as possible for Frodo, even now, after ten years, and especially now, when Frodo could not possibly pleasure him in any way.
Aragorn set the hobbit gently on the huge bed, inserting pillows behind his back and under his calves. He climbed on the bed, sitting cross-legged at Frodo’s feet, and took one swollen foot in his hands, massaging with gentle, probing circles. Frodo sighed and closed his eyes, leaning against the pillows. “This is lovely.”
Aragorn only smiled and kept rubbing. Frodo sank into a blissful doze while the gentle, callused hands rubbed both of his feet.
“Better?” Aragorn finally asked.
“Much. Thank you, Aragorn.”
“I’ll be back.”
Frodo sighed in sleepy contentment as Aragorn went back to the table and filled a plate with strawberries, cake, and mushrooms.
“It won’t do to see this good food go to waste.” He sat beside Frodo, leaning against the headboard.
“Aragorn…” Frodo said, scooting close, leaning his head against Aragorn’s chest. “You’re sweet to me after…what I said to you…” He smiled up at him as Aragorn put his arm around him and squeezed. “You could have thrown me in the dungeons for insulting the king!”
“I have a better punishment in mind,” Aragorn said, propping the plate full of food on Frodo’s bloated abdomen. It tilted, and the contents nearly spilled. Frodo laughed, grabbing it.
“Frodo, you must eat every bite.”
“I am not hungry.”
Aragorn held a strawberry to Frodo’s pink lips. Frodo looked up at him, trying to muster a scowl but instead giggling at the idea of the King of Gondor feeding strawberries to a hobbit heavy with child. He opened his mouth, allowing entry for the plump red fruit. The taste was marvelous, waking his appetite.
“More please.”
Aragorn laughed. “Yes, this is more like a hobbit.”
All morning, the king sat beside him, feeding him strawberries, mushrooms, and last, pieces of pound cake…until every crumb was gone.
“I’m very sleepy now,” Frodo said, his eyes closing on their own.
“I should say,” Aragorn said, taking the plate from Frodo’s abdomen and setting it on the bedside table. He moved again to the end of the bed and massaged Frodo’s feet until the hobbit fell into an immediate and content sleep.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2002-11-25 04:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2002-11-25 07:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2002-11-25 08:10 pm (UTC)That was one of my favorite things you've ever written, Claudia... I dunno why, 'cause I adore so many things you've written, but I think it was because Aragorn's devotion was so evident here. Plus, it seemed so realistic--I can see Frodo (poor pregnant hobbit) saying and doing these things, and Aragorn feeling a bit... helpless!!
I loved Aragorn touching Frodo, and feeling his belly, and hugging him, and carrying him to bed, and rubbing his hobbit feet, and feeding him... so very sweet. :)
You must write another... I think I need another one during that takes place during Frodo's labor---that one chapter left me yearning for more about the blessed event, LOL. Heh... don't you love me making suggestions?
Re:
Date: 2002-11-26 05:49 am (UTC)And I love it when you make suggestions, since I never know which "vignette" to do next in this series, LOL.