A Fine Mess (implied Frodo/Sam) R 4/8
Title: A Fine Mess - Chapter 4/8
Author: Moit
Summary: After taking a walk, a pregnant Frodo finds himself at the mercy of a camp of rangers.
Rating: R
Pairing: implied Frodo/Sam
Genre: Drama
Warnings: Yaoi/Slash, mpreg
Author's Note: I'm half asleep right now as I type this.. and my beta is still in Hong Kong. Any mistakes are my own. (And I wrote this in like two days-- woooo!)
Previous chapters here.
Aragorn asked that Frodo wait at least one more week before traveling to ensure that everything had formed and healed properly inside his body. Frodo, of course, was nearly climbing the walls in his desire to get home, but Merry reminded him that the babe needed to be the number one priority.
Frodo sank down in front of a plate of mushrooms. “You’re right, of course,” he said between bites, “but I feel like such a bother all cooped up here!”
“Of course you’re no bother, Frodo!” Esmerelda said, setting down another plate of mushrooms beside the first.
Frodo made a noise of discontent, but tucked into the second plate never-the-less.
***
Two days before they were planning to leave for Hobbiton, Frodo came down with a terrible sickness. Merry was sent to fetch the Healer. He brought back Strider instead of Darvith, much to Frodo’s chagrin.
“Not him,” Frodo croaked, turning his face away from the Man.
“Hush now, Frodo,” Strider said, placing a cool hand on the hobbit’s forehead. “He’s certainly warm. I’ll need to check his temperature.” To Frodo he said, “I’ll need to help you turn over on your side.”
Frodo grumbled, but with a little help from Strider, and a pillow between his knees, they managed to get Frodo situated comfortably. Strider rolled down the blankets and grasped the hem of Frodo’s nightshirt. “I’ll need to lift this.”
Frodo buried his red face in the pillow. “If you must,” he mumbled. At least he wouldn’t have to see the Man’s face this time.
Suddenly and without warning, Frodo felt something cold and slick enter his behind. He yelped and tried to squirm away, but a firm hand on his lower back held him steady.
“Easy, Frodo. I’m just taking your temperature.”
Frodo lifted his head from his pillow long enough to say, “You’ve nearly got your fingers up my bum!” before burying his face back under the cotton.
Strider pulled the fever-stick out and covered Frodo with his nightshirt once again. “It seems you have a slight fever, but nothing to be worried about at the moment. What else is plaguing you, Master Hobbit?”
Frodo rolled onto his other side so he could see the man. “My throat hurts and my head feels like it’s full of cotton.”
Strider nodded in sympathy. “From the look of it, you’ve just a minor illness. I’d advise you drink plenty of fluids. Most preferably hot tea. If you don’t start to feel better in the next few days, send for me again. For now, I’ll leave you something to help you sleep. Rest and fluids are the best thing to help you mend.”
“Where is Darvith?” Frodo asked, looking up at Strider with big blue eyes.
“He was called away. But fear not, Master Hobbit, you are in good hands with me.”
Frodo regarded him steadily before closing his eyes. “Would you ask Merry to bring me some tea when I wake?”
“Of course.” Strider brushed a dark curl off Frodo’s forehead, feeling his heart swell with more affection than it should for the young hobbit.
Strider left Brandy Hall and made his way back to the small cabin he was staying in on the edge of Buckland. Normally, he and his men made it a priority to stay on the edge of the Shire, close enough to protect the hobbits, but far enough that their presence was unnoticed. Never before had Strider allowed himself to stray so close to the fair creatures. It seemed almost unavoidable, however, when he received word that the hobbits of Bree were in need of a Healer. As a Healer himself, Strider was on good terms with Darvith. Therefore, when he received word that Darvith had been called away on urgent business, he knew his duty was with the Buckland hobbits. Little did he know that fate would bring him back to the lovely blue-eyed hobbit he saved several weeks earlier. The cabin was set up for him by one of Darvith’s daughters with Man-sized furniture. Strider didn’t plan to be in Buckland very long, but he needed a place to stay while he was there.
He wasn’t summoned again to the hobbit’s bedside, but stopped by anyway, to see how Frodo was doing. Surprisingly, it was Frodo himself who answered the door.
“Hello,” he said, blushing slightly. “Can I help you?”
“I’ve just come to see how you are doing. I can see you’re feeling better.”
“Yes,” Frodo answered, shifting nervously. “Would you like to come in? I’m the only one home right now, but I just made tea.”
“Tea would be wonderful,” Strider replied, inclining his head.
Frodo led him through the tastefully decorated smial to the kitchen, which he hadn’t seen during his previous visit. Frodo gestured Strider to the Man-sized chair at the far end of the table.
“Does your family receive visits from other Big Folk often?”
Frodo grinned, setting two cups of tea on the table. “Surely you don’t think you’re the only Man in Buckland? My family is acquainted with several of the Big Folk. They don’t come around too often, but we have an extra chair for them just in case.”
“Well, no matter the purpose, I appreciate the hospitality, Master Baggins,” Strider said, taking a long sip from his tea cup. “Will you be setting off for Hobbiton soon?”
Frodo nodded. “Provided my body doesn’t rebel again, I plan to head out tomorrow morning, actually.”
Strider’s brows shot up in surprise. He hadn’t expected the hobbit to be leaving so soon. Not that Frodo had a reason to stay, of course.
“Don’t you think that’s rather… soon?”
“Soon?” Frodo repeated with a laugh. “As a Healer, you might think so, but it’s been nearly a month since I’ve seen my Sam. I wasn’t even supposed to be gone for the evening!”
“Of course,” Strider said, trying to sound as though he understood, even if he did not. Suddenly, an idea dawned on him. “Are you going alone?”
“I planned on it,” Frodo said slowly.
“What if I went with you? I hate the thought of a hobbit in your condition all alone out there. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you, especially after I found you with my rangers…”
Frodo sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over the top of his belly. He regarded Srider with a lifted brow. “Or am I more likely to find trouble if you come with me? It was after all, your Rangers who tied me up like a criminal.”
“They were only following the orders I gave him. How were any of us to anticipate a hobbit wandering into our camp?”
Now Frodo actually begin to flush with anger. He stood up so that he was nearly eye-level with the Man.
“I told you when you found me. Your man, Stolis, kidnapped me!”
Strider, of course, knew all this. After he’d helped Frodo escape the camp, he’d dealt with Stolis himself. But then again, he was rather enjoying the red flush across Frodo’s cheeks and over the bridge of his nose.
Strider leaned forward, rubbing at his stubbled chin. “Is that so?” he said, sounding as though he’d never considered the idea.
Frodo’s eyes flashed. “Of course it is! Do you think me a liar?”
Strider couldn’t help himself. He grasped Frodo by the upper arms and pressed his mouth to the hobbit’s. For a second, Frodo was all wide eyes and shock. Then he came back to himself, pushed Strider away, and slapped the Man across the face.
“I deserved that,” Strider said, wincing slightly.
“Darn right, you did!” Frodo said firmly. “But I wonder if maybe I should slap you again because I liked the kiss.”
Strider raised his eyebrows in question.
“I’m practically a married hobbit, you know, except for the fact that it’s a lad I’ve taken up with. And it’s his child I’m to bear.”
“Aye.”
“But the longer I’m with you, the more I forget about poor Sam.”
“Then don’t go back,” Strider said, his voice gone lower than normal.
“I’ve got to. Besides, what do you expect me to do? Live in a camp of Rangers for the rest of my life? Raise Sam’s child there? We’re hobbits, in case you’ve forgotten.”
Strider shrugged.
A minute later, Merry and Esmerelda came through the door laden with shopping bags, saving Strider from giving a real answer.
Frodo jumped back from the Man, lest someone should get the wrong idea. Strider gave him a meaningful glance -- a promise to continue their conversation later.
Author: Moit
Summary: After taking a walk, a pregnant Frodo finds himself at the mercy of a camp of rangers.
Rating: R
Pairing: implied Frodo/Sam
Genre: Drama
Warnings: Yaoi/Slash, mpreg
Author's Note: I'm half asleep right now as I type this.. and my beta is still in Hong Kong. Any mistakes are my own. (And I wrote this in like two days-- woooo!)
Previous chapters here.
Aragorn asked that Frodo wait at least one more week before traveling to ensure that everything had formed and healed properly inside his body. Frodo, of course, was nearly climbing the walls in his desire to get home, but Merry reminded him that the babe needed to be the number one priority.
Frodo sank down in front of a plate of mushrooms. “You’re right, of course,” he said between bites, “but I feel like such a bother all cooped up here!”
“Of course you’re no bother, Frodo!” Esmerelda said, setting down another plate of mushrooms beside the first.
Frodo made a noise of discontent, but tucked into the second plate never-the-less.
***
Two days before they were planning to leave for Hobbiton, Frodo came down with a terrible sickness. Merry was sent to fetch the Healer. He brought back Strider instead of Darvith, much to Frodo’s chagrin.
“Not him,” Frodo croaked, turning his face away from the Man.
“Hush now, Frodo,” Strider said, placing a cool hand on the hobbit’s forehead. “He’s certainly warm. I’ll need to check his temperature.” To Frodo he said, “I’ll need to help you turn over on your side.”
Frodo grumbled, but with a little help from Strider, and a pillow between his knees, they managed to get Frodo situated comfortably. Strider rolled down the blankets and grasped the hem of Frodo’s nightshirt. “I’ll need to lift this.”
Frodo buried his red face in the pillow. “If you must,” he mumbled. At least he wouldn’t have to see the Man’s face this time.
Suddenly and without warning, Frodo felt something cold and slick enter his behind. He yelped and tried to squirm away, but a firm hand on his lower back held him steady.
“Easy, Frodo. I’m just taking your temperature.”
Frodo lifted his head from his pillow long enough to say, “You’ve nearly got your fingers up my bum!” before burying his face back under the cotton.
Strider pulled the fever-stick out and covered Frodo with his nightshirt once again. “It seems you have a slight fever, but nothing to be worried about at the moment. What else is plaguing you, Master Hobbit?”
Frodo rolled onto his other side so he could see the man. “My throat hurts and my head feels like it’s full of cotton.”
Strider nodded in sympathy. “From the look of it, you’ve just a minor illness. I’d advise you drink plenty of fluids. Most preferably hot tea. If you don’t start to feel better in the next few days, send for me again. For now, I’ll leave you something to help you sleep. Rest and fluids are the best thing to help you mend.”
“Where is Darvith?” Frodo asked, looking up at Strider with big blue eyes.
“He was called away. But fear not, Master Hobbit, you are in good hands with me.”
Frodo regarded him steadily before closing his eyes. “Would you ask Merry to bring me some tea when I wake?”
“Of course.” Strider brushed a dark curl off Frodo’s forehead, feeling his heart swell with more affection than it should for the young hobbit.
Strider left Brandy Hall and made his way back to the small cabin he was staying in on the edge of Buckland. Normally, he and his men made it a priority to stay on the edge of the Shire, close enough to protect the hobbits, but far enough that their presence was unnoticed. Never before had Strider allowed himself to stray so close to the fair creatures. It seemed almost unavoidable, however, when he received word that the hobbits of Bree were in need of a Healer. As a Healer himself, Strider was on good terms with Darvith. Therefore, when he received word that Darvith had been called away on urgent business, he knew his duty was with the Buckland hobbits. Little did he know that fate would bring him back to the lovely blue-eyed hobbit he saved several weeks earlier. The cabin was set up for him by one of Darvith’s daughters with Man-sized furniture. Strider didn’t plan to be in Buckland very long, but he needed a place to stay while he was there.
He wasn’t summoned again to the hobbit’s bedside, but stopped by anyway, to see how Frodo was doing. Surprisingly, it was Frodo himself who answered the door.
“Hello,” he said, blushing slightly. “Can I help you?”
“I’ve just come to see how you are doing. I can see you’re feeling better.”
“Yes,” Frodo answered, shifting nervously. “Would you like to come in? I’m the only one home right now, but I just made tea.”
“Tea would be wonderful,” Strider replied, inclining his head.
Frodo led him through the tastefully decorated smial to the kitchen, which he hadn’t seen during his previous visit. Frodo gestured Strider to the Man-sized chair at the far end of the table.
“Does your family receive visits from other Big Folk often?”
Frodo grinned, setting two cups of tea on the table. “Surely you don’t think you’re the only Man in Buckland? My family is acquainted with several of the Big Folk. They don’t come around too often, but we have an extra chair for them just in case.”
“Well, no matter the purpose, I appreciate the hospitality, Master Baggins,” Strider said, taking a long sip from his tea cup. “Will you be setting off for Hobbiton soon?”
Frodo nodded. “Provided my body doesn’t rebel again, I plan to head out tomorrow morning, actually.”
Strider’s brows shot up in surprise. He hadn’t expected the hobbit to be leaving so soon. Not that Frodo had a reason to stay, of course.
“Don’t you think that’s rather… soon?”
“Soon?” Frodo repeated with a laugh. “As a Healer, you might think so, but it’s been nearly a month since I’ve seen my Sam. I wasn’t even supposed to be gone for the evening!”
“Of course,” Strider said, trying to sound as though he understood, even if he did not. Suddenly, an idea dawned on him. “Are you going alone?”
“I planned on it,” Frodo said slowly.
“What if I went with you? I hate the thought of a hobbit in your condition all alone out there. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you, especially after I found you with my rangers…”
Frodo sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over the top of his belly. He regarded Srider with a lifted brow. “Or am I more likely to find trouble if you come with me? It was after all, your Rangers who tied me up like a criminal.”
“They were only following the orders I gave him. How were any of us to anticipate a hobbit wandering into our camp?”
Now Frodo actually begin to flush with anger. He stood up so that he was nearly eye-level with the Man.
“I told you when you found me. Your man, Stolis, kidnapped me!”
Strider, of course, knew all this. After he’d helped Frodo escape the camp, he’d dealt with Stolis himself. But then again, he was rather enjoying the red flush across Frodo’s cheeks and over the bridge of his nose.
Strider leaned forward, rubbing at his stubbled chin. “Is that so?” he said, sounding as though he’d never considered the idea.
Frodo’s eyes flashed. “Of course it is! Do you think me a liar?”
Strider couldn’t help himself. He grasped Frodo by the upper arms and pressed his mouth to the hobbit’s. For a second, Frodo was all wide eyes and shock. Then he came back to himself, pushed Strider away, and slapped the Man across the face.
“I deserved that,” Strider said, wincing slightly.
“Darn right, you did!” Frodo said firmly. “But I wonder if maybe I should slap you again because I liked the kiss.”
Strider raised his eyebrows in question.
“I’m practically a married hobbit, you know, except for the fact that it’s a lad I’ve taken up with. And it’s his child I’m to bear.”
“Aye.”
“But the longer I’m with you, the more I forget about poor Sam.”
“Then don’t go back,” Strider said, his voice gone lower than normal.
“I’ve got to. Besides, what do you expect me to do? Live in a camp of Rangers for the rest of my life? Raise Sam’s child there? We’re hobbits, in case you’ve forgotten.”
Strider shrugged.
A minute later, Merry and Esmerelda came through the door laden with shopping bags, saving Strider from giving a real answer.
Frodo jumped back from the Man, lest someone should get the wrong idea. Strider gave him a meaningful glance -- a promise to continue their conversation later.