(no subject)
Okay, I had to be the first....
FPS wing!fic...interspecies FPS wing!fic (duh).
Frodo lay on the satin coverlet, his good wing spread lazily over Aragorn’s side of the bed, the other hunched into his shoulder, trembling, throbbing. He should not have tried to fly so high, not this time.
“Sweetheart,” Aragorn said softly, crawling toward him, careful not to kneel on Frodo’s spread out wing. He tilted Frodo’s chin to face him. “Let me check your wing. You hit that pillar hard.”
“It does hurt,” Frodo said, rolling into a sitting position. He tucked his good wing in, and sapphire and frosty white feathers scattered everywhere.
Aragorn’s hands probed and massaged Frodo’s hurt wing, looking for broken bones. Finally, he smiled. “My heart is much lighter. Nothing is broken -- just bruising.”
Frodo’s uninjured wing curled around Aragorn’s shoulders.
“For the life of me, Frodo,” Aragorn said with a frustrated sigh. “These pieces are too small for my fingers!” He chuckled a little. “It is the dwarves’ revenge on the rest of the Free Peoples to design toys utterly impossible!”
“Ellohir will be here soon.” Frodo looked nervously at the door.
“Do you not think that you should do this?” Aragorn asked. “Your fingers are much smaller.”
“It is your birthday.”
“Yes,” Aragorn said, his eyebrows lifted. “And there is a celebration feast in my honor that I should be preparing for.” He laughed. “Instead, I prepare a mathom.”
FPS wing!fic...interspecies FPS wing!fic (duh).
Frodo lay on the satin coverlet, his good wing spread lazily over Aragorn’s side of the bed, the other hunched into his shoulder, trembling, throbbing. He should not have tried to fly so high, not this time.
“Sweetheart,” Aragorn said softly, crawling toward him, careful not to kneel on Frodo’s spread out wing. He tilted Frodo’s chin to face him. “Let me check your wing. You hit that pillar hard.”
“It does hurt,” Frodo said, rolling into a sitting position. He tucked his good wing in, and sapphire and frosty white feathers scattered everywhere.
Aragorn’s hands probed and massaged Frodo’s hurt wing, looking for broken bones. Finally, he smiled. “My heart is much lighter. Nothing is broken -- just bruising.”
Frodo’s uninjured wing curled around Aragorn’s shoulders.
“For the life of me, Frodo,” Aragorn said with a frustrated sigh. “These pieces are too small for my fingers!” He chuckled a little. “It is the dwarves’ revenge on the rest of the Free Peoples to design toys utterly impossible!”
“Ellohir will be here soon.” Frodo looked nervously at the door.
“Do you not think that you should do this?” Aragorn asked. “Your fingers are much smaller.”
“It is your birthday.”
“Yes,” Aragorn said, his eyebrows lifted. “And there is a celebration feast in my honor that I should be preparing for.” He laughed. “Instead, I prepare a mathom.”