Trapped in Bree 18, Frodo/Aragorn
Dec. 17th, 2002 01:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
claudia603Um...that was quick, wasn't it?
Title: Trapped in Bree 18/? R
Author: Claudia
Pairing: Frodo/Aragorn
Rating: R
Summary: Frodo arrives in Bree alone. Trouble escalates when a warrior lures Frodo into an abusive relationship, preventing him from continuing on his quest.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters and make no money from them.
Thanks, Trianne and Lora, for wonderful, as always, beta-ing!!
Trapped in Bree 18
The hobbits huddled close to the modest fire while Aragorn cut into the freshly killed rabbit. Frodo’s abdomen wound throbbed in sympathy as the ranger’s knife sliced into the rabbit’s tender flesh and dark blood ran over Aragorn’s fingers. Frodo’s stomach growled against his will, as it would be the first fresh meat he had eaten since Crickhollow. Sam had even dug up some mushrooms (though not nearly enough for four hobbits) to accompany the meal.
Pippin nudged Merry and winked. “What if she has a family of baby rabbits waiting for her? Did you think of that, Strider?”
“Would you prefer a scant diet of berries?” Aragorn asked, pausing the knife and raising his eyebrows at Pippin. “That can be arranged.”
“That would be nothing more than he deserves,” Frodo said. Aragorn glanced at him, and they smiled together, as if they were in on a delicious joke. “Skipping a meal or two would do Master Took some good.”
“You are unnecessarily cruel, cousin Frodo!” Pippin said. “Think about it a moment! Rabbits are our distant cousins-- “
“Speak for yourself, Mr. Pippin,” Sam said indignantly. “The Gamgees may not be book learned and all, but we sure didn’t come out of no dirty rabbit hole!”
“Rabbits live in holes in the ground,” Pippin said thoughtfully, as if he had not heard Sam. “*We* live in holes in the ground. Rabbits steal carrots from farmers. *Frodo* steals mushrooms from farmers -- ”
“Peregrine Took!” Frodo said, laughing. “Do not tell Strider my shameful childhood tales!”
“You do not know the half of it, Strider,” Merry said, putting his arm around Frodo’s shoulders. “Frodo is not quite as sweet as he appears. At one time, he was the most notorious thief in Buckland! Old Farmer Maggot had his hands full.”
Aragorn’s heart lifted to see Frodo sitting on a small log, propped between Sam and Merry, his blue eyes bright with amusement. In just a few days, the legendary resilience of hobbits had proven correct. Just that morning, Aragorn had examined and cleaned Frodo’s bottom, and, though Frodo had tensed, there had been no outward panic. The bruising had faded to yellow and light brown, and the sores had crusted and were receding. Best of all, the incision on Frodo’s abdomen from Aragorn’s hasty surgery had finally closed. Frodo was still weak, barely able to walk more than a few steps on his own, but he was out of danger of infection. Best of all, the tortured terror in his eyes had finally been replaced by trust and -- Aragorn thought with a mixture of delight and dread -- something else.
Aragorn could no longer deceive himself about the longing in Frodo’s gaze, as it was familiar to him. He had once rescued a young maiden who had been attacked by a nasty group of warriors while on a walk in the woods. Aragorn had rescued her before she had met Frodo’s fate and he had made sure she returned home safely. After a time, he had seen that same look of vulnerable, loving trust in her eyes. If Aragorn had asked her to marry him, he was confident that she would have accepted without question.
Of course, the difference between the maiden and Frodo was that Aragorn returned Frodo’s feelings…had been enamored of him from the moment he had gazed upon his picture.
His stomach turned. This could not continue as it was. He must speak frankly with Frodo.
While he had hunted for Frodo in Bree, desperate to find the hobbit unharmed, the vision of Arwen Undomiel had rarely intruded. She had seemed far removed from Aragorn’s simple infatuation for a male hobbit who would likely never return his feelings. Then, after finding Frodo so severely battered, his thoughts had only been on helping him…saving his life…gaining his trust.
But the situation had changed. The kiss had changed him, shaken him, and the memory of Frodo’s soft, parting lips still warmed and thickened his groin. Since then, while Frodo had sat on Bill, biting his lip to keep from crying out from the pain the pony’s jostling caused him, Aragorn had often caught Frodo gazing at him in open adoration when he thought the ranger was not looking. His eyes clearly expressed that he did indeed return Aragorn’s feelings.
Aragorn longed for another kiss, unhurried, possibly leading to more…but he owed Frodo his honesty. Would the battered Ringbearer be willing to give his heart…and body to a Man with whom he had no future? Would it not be irresponsible of Aragorn to encourage such a situation? He had an overwhelming duty – to get Frodo and the Ring safely to Rivendell…and to hold Frodo’s wounded heart with utmost care.
***
Aragorn sat on the log, puffing on his pipe, his eyes strained, and his shoulders tense. The fire had died down, and the hobbits had fallen asleep in a jumbled pile of furry feet that brought a slight smile to Aragorn’s face. Tomorrow their journey would grow more dangerous, as they were about to enter the Midgewater Marshes. His smile faded. He nearly wished they had already entered the marshes, as here on the steady ground in the wilderness outside the Chetwood he felt a cold and menacing presence that closed in on his heart. Aragorn tensed, having not quite considered how he would handle a direct attack by the Enemy in the wild.
One of the hobbits crawled out of his bedroll and padded toward him, and Aragorn knew without turning that it was Frodo.
“You should be sleeping,” Aragorn said. “Tomorrow is a long day.”
“I know.” Frodo swallowed and sat beside Aragorn on the log. He looked pale and shaken, as if he were trying to get the courage to say something. “I could not sleep.”
Aragorn gazed ahead, propping his smoking pipe on his knee.
“Aragorn—“ Frodo began in a hoarse voice.
“Yes?”
“Something draws near. I feel it.”
He huddled against Aragorn, who put his arm around the trembling hobbit.
“You’re cold,” Aragorn said. “You should really try to sleep.”
Frodo’s face was pale and rigid and he stared ahead, as if he saw something horrifying that Aragorn could not.
A shriek, unworldly and full of chill menace, shattered the still night.
Aragorn dragged Frodo to the ground, wrapping his arms tightly around the quaking body so that the hobbit’s back was pressed against his chest. He prayed none of the other hobbits would wake and draw attention to their camp. The Enemy was near, still out of sight, but sniffing for them, drawn by the Ring. Frodo let out a muffled whimper.
“Shh…shh,” Aragorn whispered, kissing the dark curls. Frodo clutched his hands, biting his pale lip to keep from whimpering. “Shhh…” Aragorn said again, rubbing the hobbit’s chilled arms. “I’ll not let them near you.”
A second shriek, much closer, caused Frodo to go completely limp. Aragorn peered down in concern, hoping the hobbit had fainted and could be spared the terror. But Frodo had not fainted -- his eyes were open and glassy and his hand crept toward his vest pocket. Aragorn grabbed the slender wrist, clasping it tightly. “No,” he whispered. “You must not.”
“They’re too strong,” Frodo gasped, his eyes still glassy. “I can’t…they’ll break my mind…Let go, Aragorn.”
Aragorn kissed Frodo’s head, still holding his wrist. “I will not allow it.”
He let his free hand slip under Frodo’s clothing, rubbing warm circles on Frodo’s bare skin. Frodo let out a barely audible hiss and leaned into him. His hand relaxed in Aragorn’s grip, and he squirmed until he faced Aragorn, looking up with wide, frightened eyes.
“They’re leaving…” Frodo said, breathing rapidly. “I feel it.” His eyes softened. Reluctantly, Aragorn pulled his hand from under Frodo’s clothing. Frodo tilted his head, moving toward Aragorn’s face, lips parting, but Aragorn pretended not to notice as he drew away and helped Frodo back to a sitting position on the log.
“That was close,” Aragorn said, smoothing Frodo’s cloak over his wrinkled clothing.
“Yes.” Frodo swallowed hard, a puzzled and hurt look in his eyes, and with a sinking heart, Aragorn knew that even the terror of the Ringwraiths had not addled Frodo’s senses – that Aragorn had pulled away from his kiss had not been lost on the hobbit.
“Are you all right?” Aragorn asked.
“Yes.” Frodo clenched his hands so tightly around his knees that his were knuckles white. He looked up at Aragorn, his eyes the only color in the heavy wilderness dark. “I…” He swallowed again. “Do you remember when you went to find Bill and before you left, we…”
“We kissed,” Aragorn said, feeling unhinged and dizzy. He took one of Frodo’s chilled hands in his and rubbed briskly, trying to bring some warmth back into it.
Frodo flushed. “I should tell you that it might be a long time before I want more…though your hand…just now when we were lying down…it felt good.” He smiled and his eyes were wide and trusting. “I would be willing to give up my life in the Shire to stay with you…though I know you would often be gone.”
Aragorn felt all the air seep from him, and his cheeks felt numb.
“Stay with me?” he repeated faintly. “This is sudden, would you not say?”
Frodo nodded. Though two red splotches covered his cheeks, he looked relieved at having spoken his heart, and Aragorn’s stomach turned. “Yes, I understand that you do not often stay in one place, that a ranger’s life involves much wandering. That is not a concern, other than…you must come home safely…to me.” Frodo clutched Aragorn’s hand, and the small hand that had trembled so wildly while the Ringwraiths were near was now steady.
“Frodo…”
Before Aragorn could react, Frodo had pulled his head down and was kissing him with violent fervor, his small tongue darting inside the ranger’s mouth. Aragorn forced himself to pull back and hold Frodo’s shoulders firmly. Frodo’s eyes darkened with wounded puzzlement.
“Wait,” Aragorn said hoarsely.
Frodo sighed and looked away, hurt understanding dawning in his eyes. “I see. You do not want damaged goods. I know…I once offered myself to you in Bree…right after…”
“No…no…never,” Aragorn said, turning cold inside. He would never fully understand how much damage Oron had caused. Everything that happened to the hobbit from now on would be judged by that one horrific event. “But I do think that you may have become attached to me because I saved you from a horrible situation.”
Frodo pulled his hand from Aragorn’s gentle grip. “That is very cold, Aragorn.”
“I do not want to hurt you.”
“You would never hurt me,” Frodo said, shaking his head. “But I understand that you may not…you would not want to pledge yourself to me because…I understand…I could not give myself fully to you…at least not now.”
Aragorn’s hands trembled. “I care for you very much, but --”
“Can we not pledge ourselves to each other? Do Men not do such things?”
“They do. But something as serious as pledging often occurs after a long courtship. We have not even had a short courtship.”
“You do not wish it with me,” Frodo said, his voice shaking. “You say you do not wish to hurt me, but you are hurting me now…with your evasion and your noble words. I can see that I have embarrassed myself, that you do not want me…”
“I cannot pledge myself to you because I am already betrothed,” Aragorn said.
Frodo flinched as if Aragorn had slapped him. He breathed quickly, clutching his hands together until his fingernails dug into his palms, not able to look at Aragorn.
Aragorn strove for some way to ease the blow, loath to hurt Frodo while he was in such a weakened state. He waited for Frodo to weep, and when he did not, he reached for Frodo’s shoulder.
Frodo jerked away from his touch, his blue eyes filled with the same wild rage Aragorn had seen when he had found the hobbit in Oron’s cottage. “I do not understand you,” he finally managed. “Why did you kiss me? Why did you say what you did in Bree…give me the idea that there could be something? Did you tell me lies because you feared I would die? Did you feel pity for me?”
Aragorn put his hands to his heart. “Frodo…what I feel for you…is real.”
“Do not tell me lies,” Frodo said, turning away in disgust. “What of the woman – I will assume it is a woman – who has your heart? What would she have thought about your words to me in Bree…about your kiss?”
“Arwen and I…” Aragorn’s voice was hoarse. “We have an understanding –- “
“No,” Frodo said, his voice tight with wounded rage. “*You* understand. You saved my life, and for that I will always be grateful. If you had not come when you did, I have no doubt that Oron would have killed me. But beyond that, you are wrong. I am not a silly child who senselessly falls in love with his rescuer.” His eyes filled with tears. “Who are you to tell me how I feel, Aragorn?” Frodo lifted his chin and stood. “I may not look it to you, but I have lived over fifty years. I am no love-struck youth.”
Frodo pulled his cloak tightly around him, and marched back to his bedroll.
TBC
Title: Trapped in Bree 18/? R
Author: Claudia
Pairing: Frodo/Aragorn
Rating: R
Summary: Frodo arrives in Bree alone. Trouble escalates when a warrior lures Frodo into an abusive relationship, preventing him from continuing on his quest.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters and make no money from them.
Thanks, Trianne and Lora, for wonderful, as always, beta-ing!!
Trapped in Bree 18
The hobbits huddled close to the modest fire while Aragorn cut into the freshly killed rabbit. Frodo’s abdomen wound throbbed in sympathy as the ranger’s knife sliced into the rabbit’s tender flesh and dark blood ran over Aragorn’s fingers. Frodo’s stomach growled against his will, as it would be the first fresh meat he had eaten since Crickhollow. Sam had even dug up some mushrooms (though not nearly enough for four hobbits) to accompany the meal.
Pippin nudged Merry and winked. “What if she has a family of baby rabbits waiting for her? Did you think of that, Strider?”
“Would you prefer a scant diet of berries?” Aragorn asked, pausing the knife and raising his eyebrows at Pippin. “That can be arranged.”
“That would be nothing more than he deserves,” Frodo said. Aragorn glanced at him, and they smiled together, as if they were in on a delicious joke. “Skipping a meal or two would do Master Took some good.”
“You are unnecessarily cruel, cousin Frodo!” Pippin said. “Think about it a moment! Rabbits are our distant cousins-- “
“Speak for yourself, Mr. Pippin,” Sam said indignantly. “The Gamgees may not be book learned and all, but we sure didn’t come out of no dirty rabbit hole!”
“Rabbits live in holes in the ground,” Pippin said thoughtfully, as if he had not heard Sam. “*We* live in holes in the ground. Rabbits steal carrots from farmers. *Frodo* steals mushrooms from farmers -- ”
“Peregrine Took!” Frodo said, laughing. “Do not tell Strider my shameful childhood tales!”
“You do not know the half of it, Strider,” Merry said, putting his arm around Frodo’s shoulders. “Frodo is not quite as sweet as he appears. At one time, he was the most notorious thief in Buckland! Old Farmer Maggot had his hands full.”
Aragorn’s heart lifted to see Frodo sitting on a small log, propped between Sam and Merry, his blue eyes bright with amusement. In just a few days, the legendary resilience of hobbits had proven correct. Just that morning, Aragorn had examined and cleaned Frodo’s bottom, and, though Frodo had tensed, there had been no outward panic. The bruising had faded to yellow and light brown, and the sores had crusted and were receding. Best of all, the incision on Frodo’s abdomen from Aragorn’s hasty surgery had finally closed. Frodo was still weak, barely able to walk more than a few steps on his own, but he was out of danger of infection. Best of all, the tortured terror in his eyes had finally been replaced by trust and -- Aragorn thought with a mixture of delight and dread -- something else.
Aragorn could no longer deceive himself about the longing in Frodo’s gaze, as it was familiar to him. He had once rescued a young maiden who had been attacked by a nasty group of warriors while on a walk in the woods. Aragorn had rescued her before she had met Frodo’s fate and he had made sure she returned home safely. After a time, he had seen that same look of vulnerable, loving trust in her eyes. If Aragorn had asked her to marry him, he was confident that she would have accepted without question.
Of course, the difference between the maiden and Frodo was that Aragorn returned Frodo’s feelings…had been enamored of him from the moment he had gazed upon his picture.
His stomach turned. This could not continue as it was. He must speak frankly with Frodo.
While he had hunted for Frodo in Bree, desperate to find the hobbit unharmed, the vision of Arwen Undomiel had rarely intruded. She had seemed far removed from Aragorn’s simple infatuation for a male hobbit who would likely never return his feelings. Then, after finding Frodo so severely battered, his thoughts had only been on helping him…saving his life…gaining his trust.
But the situation had changed. The kiss had changed him, shaken him, and the memory of Frodo’s soft, parting lips still warmed and thickened his groin. Since then, while Frodo had sat on Bill, biting his lip to keep from crying out from the pain the pony’s jostling caused him, Aragorn had often caught Frodo gazing at him in open adoration when he thought the ranger was not looking. His eyes clearly expressed that he did indeed return Aragorn’s feelings.
Aragorn longed for another kiss, unhurried, possibly leading to more…but he owed Frodo his honesty. Would the battered Ringbearer be willing to give his heart…and body to a Man with whom he had no future? Would it not be irresponsible of Aragorn to encourage such a situation? He had an overwhelming duty – to get Frodo and the Ring safely to Rivendell…and to hold Frodo’s wounded heart with utmost care.
***
Aragorn sat on the log, puffing on his pipe, his eyes strained, and his shoulders tense. The fire had died down, and the hobbits had fallen asleep in a jumbled pile of furry feet that brought a slight smile to Aragorn’s face. Tomorrow their journey would grow more dangerous, as they were about to enter the Midgewater Marshes. His smile faded. He nearly wished they had already entered the marshes, as here on the steady ground in the wilderness outside the Chetwood he felt a cold and menacing presence that closed in on his heart. Aragorn tensed, having not quite considered how he would handle a direct attack by the Enemy in the wild.
One of the hobbits crawled out of his bedroll and padded toward him, and Aragorn knew without turning that it was Frodo.
“You should be sleeping,” Aragorn said. “Tomorrow is a long day.”
“I know.” Frodo swallowed and sat beside Aragorn on the log. He looked pale and shaken, as if he were trying to get the courage to say something. “I could not sleep.”
Aragorn gazed ahead, propping his smoking pipe on his knee.
“Aragorn—“ Frodo began in a hoarse voice.
“Yes?”
“Something draws near. I feel it.”
He huddled against Aragorn, who put his arm around the trembling hobbit.
“You’re cold,” Aragorn said. “You should really try to sleep.”
Frodo’s face was pale and rigid and he stared ahead, as if he saw something horrifying that Aragorn could not.
A shriek, unworldly and full of chill menace, shattered the still night.
Aragorn dragged Frodo to the ground, wrapping his arms tightly around the quaking body so that the hobbit’s back was pressed against his chest. He prayed none of the other hobbits would wake and draw attention to their camp. The Enemy was near, still out of sight, but sniffing for them, drawn by the Ring. Frodo let out a muffled whimper.
“Shh…shh,” Aragorn whispered, kissing the dark curls. Frodo clutched his hands, biting his pale lip to keep from whimpering. “Shhh…” Aragorn said again, rubbing the hobbit’s chilled arms. “I’ll not let them near you.”
A second shriek, much closer, caused Frodo to go completely limp. Aragorn peered down in concern, hoping the hobbit had fainted and could be spared the terror. But Frodo had not fainted -- his eyes were open and glassy and his hand crept toward his vest pocket. Aragorn grabbed the slender wrist, clasping it tightly. “No,” he whispered. “You must not.”
“They’re too strong,” Frodo gasped, his eyes still glassy. “I can’t…they’ll break my mind…Let go, Aragorn.”
Aragorn kissed Frodo’s head, still holding his wrist. “I will not allow it.”
He let his free hand slip under Frodo’s clothing, rubbing warm circles on Frodo’s bare skin. Frodo let out a barely audible hiss and leaned into him. His hand relaxed in Aragorn’s grip, and he squirmed until he faced Aragorn, looking up with wide, frightened eyes.
“They’re leaving…” Frodo said, breathing rapidly. “I feel it.” His eyes softened. Reluctantly, Aragorn pulled his hand from under Frodo’s clothing. Frodo tilted his head, moving toward Aragorn’s face, lips parting, but Aragorn pretended not to notice as he drew away and helped Frodo back to a sitting position on the log.
“That was close,” Aragorn said, smoothing Frodo’s cloak over his wrinkled clothing.
“Yes.” Frodo swallowed hard, a puzzled and hurt look in his eyes, and with a sinking heart, Aragorn knew that even the terror of the Ringwraiths had not addled Frodo’s senses – that Aragorn had pulled away from his kiss had not been lost on the hobbit.
“Are you all right?” Aragorn asked.
“Yes.” Frodo clenched his hands so tightly around his knees that his were knuckles white. He looked up at Aragorn, his eyes the only color in the heavy wilderness dark. “I…” He swallowed again. “Do you remember when you went to find Bill and before you left, we…”
“We kissed,” Aragorn said, feeling unhinged and dizzy. He took one of Frodo’s chilled hands in his and rubbed briskly, trying to bring some warmth back into it.
Frodo flushed. “I should tell you that it might be a long time before I want more…though your hand…just now when we were lying down…it felt good.” He smiled and his eyes were wide and trusting. “I would be willing to give up my life in the Shire to stay with you…though I know you would often be gone.”
Aragorn felt all the air seep from him, and his cheeks felt numb.
“Stay with me?” he repeated faintly. “This is sudden, would you not say?”
Frodo nodded. Though two red splotches covered his cheeks, he looked relieved at having spoken his heart, and Aragorn’s stomach turned. “Yes, I understand that you do not often stay in one place, that a ranger’s life involves much wandering. That is not a concern, other than…you must come home safely…to me.” Frodo clutched Aragorn’s hand, and the small hand that had trembled so wildly while the Ringwraiths were near was now steady.
“Frodo…”
Before Aragorn could react, Frodo had pulled his head down and was kissing him with violent fervor, his small tongue darting inside the ranger’s mouth. Aragorn forced himself to pull back and hold Frodo’s shoulders firmly. Frodo’s eyes darkened with wounded puzzlement.
“Wait,” Aragorn said hoarsely.
Frodo sighed and looked away, hurt understanding dawning in his eyes. “I see. You do not want damaged goods. I know…I once offered myself to you in Bree…right after…”
“No…no…never,” Aragorn said, turning cold inside. He would never fully understand how much damage Oron had caused. Everything that happened to the hobbit from now on would be judged by that one horrific event. “But I do think that you may have become attached to me because I saved you from a horrible situation.”
Frodo pulled his hand from Aragorn’s gentle grip. “That is very cold, Aragorn.”
“I do not want to hurt you.”
“You would never hurt me,” Frodo said, shaking his head. “But I understand that you may not…you would not want to pledge yourself to me because…I understand…I could not give myself fully to you…at least not now.”
Aragorn’s hands trembled. “I care for you very much, but --”
“Can we not pledge ourselves to each other? Do Men not do such things?”
“They do. But something as serious as pledging often occurs after a long courtship. We have not even had a short courtship.”
“You do not wish it with me,” Frodo said, his voice shaking. “You say you do not wish to hurt me, but you are hurting me now…with your evasion and your noble words. I can see that I have embarrassed myself, that you do not want me…”
“I cannot pledge myself to you because I am already betrothed,” Aragorn said.
Frodo flinched as if Aragorn had slapped him. He breathed quickly, clutching his hands together until his fingernails dug into his palms, not able to look at Aragorn.
Aragorn strove for some way to ease the blow, loath to hurt Frodo while he was in such a weakened state. He waited for Frodo to weep, and when he did not, he reached for Frodo’s shoulder.
Frodo jerked away from his touch, his blue eyes filled with the same wild rage Aragorn had seen when he had found the hobbit in Oron’s cottage. “I do not understand you,” he finally managed. “Why did you kiss me? Why did you say what you did in Bree…give me the idea that there could be something? Did you tell me lies because you feared I would die? Did you feel pity for me?”
Aragorn put his hands to his heart. “Frodo…what I feel for you…is real.”
“Do not tell me lies,” Frodo said, turning away in disgust. “What of the woman – I will assume it is a woman – who has your heart? What would she have thought about your words to me in Bree…about your kiss?”
“Arwen and I…” Aragorn’s voice was hoarse. “We have an understanding –- “
“No,” Frodo said, his voice tight with wounded rage. “*You* understand. You saved my life, and for that I will always be grateful. If you had not come when you did, I have no doubt that Oron would have killed me. But beyond that, you are wrong. I am not a silly child who senselessly falls in love with his rescuer.” His eyes filled with tears. “Who are you to tell me how I feel, Aragorn?” Frodo lifted his chin and stood. “I may not look it to you, but I have lived over fifty years. I am no love-struck youth.”
Frodo pulled his cloak tightly around him, and marched back to his bedroll.
TBC
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2002-12-17 01:45 pm (UTC)You've done a great job of bringing your character to life, and made me want to kick him in the butt! And comfort poor Frodo. He's so dignified even with hurt feelings - breaks my heart.
Thanks for posting this. It will help me get through the week until I finally get to see the movie.
Cathy (Beruthiel)
Re:
Date: 2002-12-18 06:53 am (UTC)I'm sorry you have to wait so long to see the movie!! Any spoilers I might talk about, I, of course, will LJ-cut.
no subject
Date: 2002-12-17 02:10 pm (UTC)Alch
Re:
Date: 2002-12-18 06:51 am (UTC)Re:
Date: 2002-12-18 02:17 pm (UTC)Alch
no subject
Re:
Date: 2002-12-18 06:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2002-12-17 05:57 pm (UTC)Seriously though, this is wonderful stuff and I'm so pleased that you got this part out so soon. Thank you so much for sharing it with us, this made my already brilliant day even better! ::glomps::
^________^
Re:
Date: 2002-12-18 06:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2002-12-19 09:35 pm (UTC)Sigh. I need chapter 19 now, please.
Re:
Date: 2002-12-20 12:14 am (UTC)damn Arwen getting in the way all the time...but PJ is so cool for giving us a loophole, as you said in your posting he he he