(no subject)
ha ha ha ha ha!
I've got more drabbles. I think this is it for all those requested...If I've forgotten your request, feel free to nag...
First is for febobe, who requested Aragorn bathing and caring for Frodo between Weathertop and Rivendell.
“We will rest here tonight.” Aragorn’s eyes flickered nervously around the glade. He thrusting his torch in all directions before handing it to Merry. He heaved Frodo from his shoulder and set him gently on the ground, bidding Merry to hold the torch over him.
Frodo’s skin was ghastly pale, sweat-drenched, and his eyes blood-shot and haunted. Aragorn grimly unbuttoned vest and shirt, revealing the wound with its jagged, infected streaks running toward the hobbit’s heart.
The shirt came off, leaving Frodo to shiver violently. The cloth in Aragorn’s hand was wet with freshly boiled water -- Strider still marveled at how fast Sam could move when it came to caring for his master - and the sweet smell of athelas wafted from it.
“Shhh, Frodo,” Aragorn said in a low, soothing voice. Gently he ran the cloth over the hobbit’s wound, causing Frodo to arch his back and yelp. “It will hurt in the beginning, but it will soon feel better.”
Frodo’s pained trembling began to subside, and Aragorn pushed the cloth over Frodo’s bare skin. All of them could stand to be cleaner, especially one with such a wound. Frodo’s breathing grew calm and steady. His eyes fell shut.
I've got more drabbles. I think this is it for all those requested...If I've forgotten your request, feel free to nag...
First is for febobe, who requested Aragorn bathing and caring for Frodo between Weathertop and Rivendell.
“We will rest here tonight.” Aragorn’s eyes flickered nervously around the glade. He thrusting his torch in all directions before handing it to Merry. He heaved Frodo from his shoulder and set him gently on the ground, bidding Merry to hold the torch over him.
Frodo’s skin was ghastly pale, sweat-drenched, and his eyes blood-shot and haunted. Aragorn grimly unbuttoned vest and shirt, revealing the wound with its jagged, infected streaks running toward the hobbit’s heart.
The shirt came off, leaving Frodo to shiver violently. The cloth in Aragorn’s hand was wet with freshly boiled water -- Strider still marveled at how fast Sam could move when it came to caring for his master - and the sweet smell of athelas wafted from it.
“Shhh, Frodo,” Aragorn said in a low, soothing voice. Gently he ran the cloth over the hobbit’s wound, causing Frodo to arch his back and yelp. “It will hurt in the beginning, but it will soon feel better.”
Frodo’s pained trembling began to subside, and Aragorn pushed the cloth over Frodo’s bare skin. All of them could stand to be cleaner, especially one with such a wound. Frodo’s breathing grew calm and steady. His eyes fell shut.