A Fine Mess (implied Frodo/Sam) R 2/8
Title: A Fine Mess - Chapter 2/8
Author: Moit
Summary: After taking a walk, a pregnant Frodo finds himself at the mercy of a camp of rangers.
Pairing: implied Frodo/Sam
Rating: R
Genre: Drama
Warnings: Yaoi/Slash, mpreg
Author's Note: This chapter is dedicated to lovethosehobbit, who loves this stuff as much as the rest of us, and feeds my muse with her LotRiPS. Chaper 3 will (hopefully) see the return of Strider.
Previous Chapters here
Despite the copious amounts of room in Brandy Hall, Frodo elected to sleep in Merry’s room. He was still feeling vulnerable and shaken from his encounter with the rangers and needed the comfort of his cousin. The two hobbits were snuggled in Merry’s large bed after a hearty meal, which Frodo gratefully accepted.
“I’m telling you, Frodo. I have never seen Big Folk around these parts and I have lived here all my life. Get some rest and we’ll set out for Hobbiton in the morning.”
Merry blew out the candle and snuggled down into the bed sheets. He reached down to scratch his leg and felt something warm and wet. Surprised, he pulled his hand up, squinting at it in the semi-darkness.
“Frodo, are you bleeding?”
“Wot?” Frodo asked, sitting up on his elbows. He opened his mouth to reply when a sudden pain rippled through his midsection. “I think I am!” he gasped, clutching his belly.
“Mum!” Merry shouted, helping Frodo into a sitting position. They had both noticed the small pool of blood beneath the pregnant hobbit.
Esmeralda ran into the room, a dressing gown thrown over herself hastily.
“Meriadoc, what is this ruckus in the middle of the night?”
“Mum, send for the healer! Frodo’s bleeding!”
Esmeralda covered her mouth in shock and she was out the door in a flash.
“Just relax, Frodo, mum’s bringing help,” Merry said softly, rubbing Frodo’s back.
Frodo whimpered as another pain shook through his body. He clenched Merry’s hand, trying to remember how to breathe until Esmeralda returned with the healer.
“Just calm down, everyone,” the elder hobbit said, walking into the room. “I’ll take a look at the lad. I’m sure it’s nothing to be worried about.”
He helped Frodo lay back down and pushed the bedclothes away so he could have a better look at his patient.
“Mr. Baggins are you with us?” he asked, peering down into Frodo’s pained face.
“Yes.” His voice was low and hoarse.
“Good. I am Darvith. I’m going to examine you, so try to concentrate on the sound of my voice, okay?”
Frodo nodded weakly.
“How far along are you, Mr. Baggins? Do you know?”
“Eighteen weeks,” Frodo ground out.
“Have you been seeing a healer regularly?”
“Not since last month,” Frodo replied, bracing himself as another pain sent his belly quivering.
“I would suggest you see a healer every other week until you give birth, considering the rarity of male pregnancy. I’ll need to have you remove your nightshirt, Mr. Baggins.”
Darvith turned to Esmeralda.
“Do you have an extra blanket, perhaps? Something to offer him some modesty?”
“Of course.”
Esmeralda left and returned with a blanket large enough to cover Frodo and his expanding belly.
“Do you have to stay?” Frodo asked, looking at Esmeralda nervously.
“Oh. Of course not,” she replied, her cheeks colouring. She glanced at Merry. “Just holler if you need me.”
Merry gave her a smile and flicked his eyes towards the doorway. Esmeralda left.
“Do you want me to go?” Merry asked.
Frodo’s eyes darted nervously from his cousin to the doctor. “No, don’t go,” he said finally.
“Mr. Baggins, can you pull your nightshirt up for me?”
Reluctantly, Frodo reached beneath the blanket, keeping his eyes trained on the ceiling. Before he was asked, he bent his knees, too.
Merry carefully diverted his eyes.
The healer folded the blanket up over Frodo’s knees.
“Definitely some bleeding here,” he murmured.
“I had no idea,” Frodo replied sarcastically.
“Frodo,” Merry warned.
Frodo huffed. “It’s not your arse he’s about to stick his fingers up, Merry.”
“I know this is uncomfortable, but just try to relax,” Darvith soothed.
Frodo’s snarky reply was cut off by another pain. Merry offered his hand, which Frodo squeezed with all his strength.
“Remind me to keep my hands to myself when you’re giving birth,” Merry muttered.
“Wot?” Frodo gasped, still in pain.
“Nothing.”
When the pain passed, Darvith got to work. He spread Frodo’s knees farther, much to the hobbit’s chagrin. But when he reached between Frodo’s thighs, he found something he had not been expecting.
“Mr. Baggins, aside from the pain and bleeding you’re currently experiencing, have you had any other unusual symptoms?”
Frodo screwed his face up, thinking for a moment. “Just nausea. Why? Is something wrong?” he asked anxiously, sitting up on his elbows.
“Well,” the healer started nervously. He touched something behind Frodo’s bullocks and he hobbit jumped in surprise. “It seems your body is creating a birth canal. That would explain the bleeding and cramps. It’s not fully developed yet,” he paused, doing something that made Frodo yelp in pain, “I’d say about five centimetres, yet.”
He pulled his hand away and Frodo and Merry could see it was bloody.
“My best recommendation is that you put cotton sheaves in your pants, same as a lass would do, to absorb the blood. If it lasts more than a week, I want you to send for me again.”
“Great. Now I’m turning in to a lass,” Frodo moaned, his cheeks flaming.
“Mr. Baggins, with all due respect, how did you think you would deliver the babe?”
Frodo bit his lip, his face turning an even deeper scarlet.
“I guess we’ll need mum after all,” Merry quipped.
Frodo’s icy glare wiped the smirk off his cousin’s face.
Cotton sheaves were not easy to handle, nor were they consistently effective. Many times throughout the day, Frodo could feel the wetness begin pooling under his backside and he would have to change into yet another pair of Merry’s breeches, sending the soiled ones to the wash. Although Esmeralda assured him it was a common occurrence with young lasses, Frodo nevertheless burned with embarrassment every time it happened.
Thankfully, Merry was taking the whole thing in stride. Frodo’s predicament made sense to him, being a pregnant male and all, but it did little to soothe Frodo’s unease. For Frodo’s safety and the safety of the babe, they had decided Frodo would stay at Brandy Hall until the bleeding stopped. He could not expect to travel back to the Shire if he had to stop every two hours to change the cotton in his breeches. Instead, he wrote to Sam to (hopefully) keep his lover from worrying about his absence.
My Dearest Sam,
I apologise for disappearing without notice. Fear not, I am at Brandy Hall, safe with Merry and his family. I shall be staying here for a fortnight, or so, as there have been complications issues with my pregnancy. Nothing to be alarmed about, just a natural progression I had not anticipated. For that reason, I will be unable to travel.
There is no need for you to come here, Sam, which I know is the thought in your mind. I will be home soon. Please do not worry.
All my love,
Frodo
“You know that won’t keep him satisfied,” Merry commented, dryly.
“I know that. But I couldn’t very well leave him without a letter, now could I?”
Merry shrugged, and then nodded.
“Very well. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” Frodo pulled at his (Merry’s) breeches awkwardly, “I have to go... take care of myself.”
Merry tried not to laugh as Frodo hobbled by, one hand holding the crotch of his breeches away from his body.
Frodo received Sam’s letter a week later, and ironically stopped bleeding the same day.
“How many lads do you know that bleed for seven days?” Frodo had growled.
Merry just shrugged good-naturedly. “You’re the only lad I know with child, so I suppose it’s fitting.”
Irritated, Frodo had snatched Sam’s letter out of Merry’s hand and retreated to the guest room (where he refused to sleep).
Dear Frodo,
You cannot know how relieved I was to receive your letter. When you did not return that night, I was beside myself with worry. You know not what it does for my heart to know you and our babe are safe.
I am taking good care of the smial during your absence, so you can return to Bag End without a need for chores. Every day without you grows longer. I would that you return to me as soon as you are able.
Love,
Sam
Frodo clutched the letter to his chest, breathing deeply, hoping it was not his imagination that he could smell his beloved on the parchment. Two drops of water falling on the letter, distorting the ink, startled him.
Reaching up a hand, he realised he was crying. He wiped at the tears, inwardly cursing himself for being so emotional. He folded the letter carefully and placed it with his things.
“I will return to you soon, my Sam.”
Frodo could not have seen the long road ahead of him.
Author: Moit
Summary: After taking a walk, a pregnant Frodo finds himself at the mercy of a camp of rangers.
Pairing: implied Frodo/Sam
Rating: R
Genre: Drama
Warnings: Yaoi/Slash, mpreg
Author's Note: This chapter is dedicated to lovethosehobbit, who loves this stuff as much as the rest of us, and feeds my muse with her LotRiPS. Chaper 3 will (hopefully) see the return of Strider.
Previous Chapters here
Despite the copious amounts of room in Brandy Hall, Frodo elected to sleep in Merry’s room. He was still feeling vulnerable and shaken from his encounter with the rangers and needed the comfort of his cousin. The two hobbits were snuggled in Merry’s large bed after a hearty meal, which Frodo gratefully accepted.
“I’m telling you, Frodo. I have never seen Big Folk around these parts and I have lived here all my life. Get some rest and we’ll set out for Hobbiton in the morning.”
Merry blew out the candle and snuggled down into the bed sheets. He reached down to scratch his leg and felt something warm and wet. Surprised, he pulled his hand up, squinting at it in the semi-darkness.
“Frodo, are you bleeding?”
“Wot?” Frodo asked, sitting up on his elbows. He opened his mouth to reply when a sudden pain rippled through his midsection. “I think I am!” he gasped, clutching his belly.
“Mum!” Merry shouted, helping Frodo into a sitting position. They had both noticed the small pool of blood beneath the pregnant hobbit.
Esmeralda ran into the room, a dressing gown thrown over herself hastily.
“Meriadoc, what is this ruckus in the middle of the night?”
“Mum, send for the healer! Frodo’s bleeding!”
Esmeralda covered her mouth in shock and she was out the door in a flash.
“Just relax, Frodo, mum’s bringing help,” Merry said softly, rubbing Frodo’s back.
Frodo whimpered as another pain shook through his body. He clenched Merry’s hand, trying to remember how to breathe until Esmeralda returned with the healer.
“Just calm down, everyone,” the elder hobbit said, walking into the room. “I’ll take a look at the lad. I’m sure it’s nothing to be worried about.”
He helped Frodo lay back down and pushed the bedclothes away so he could have a better look at his patient.
“Mr. Baggins are you with us?” he asked, peering down into Frodo’s pained face.
“Yes.” His voice was low and hoarse.
“Good. I am Darvith. I’m going to examine you, so try to concentrate on the sound of my voice, okay?”
Frodo nodded weakly.
“How far along are you, Mr. Baggins? Do you know?”
“Eighteen weeks,” Frodo ground out.
“Have you been seeing a healer regularly?”
“Not since last month,” Frodo replied, bracing himself as another pain sent his belly quivering.
“I would suggest you see a healer every other week until you give birth, considering the rarity of male pregnancy. I’ll need to have you remove your nightshirt, Mr. Baggins.”
Darvith turned to Esmeralda.
“Do you have an extra blanket, perhaps? Something to offer him some modesty?”
“Of course.”
Esmeralda left and returned with a blanket large enough to cover Frodo and his expanding belly.
“Do you have to stay?” Frodo asked, looking at Esmeralda nervously.
“Oh. Of course not,” she replied, her cheeks colouring. She glanced at Merry. “Just holler if you need me.”
Merry gave her a smile and flicked his eyes towards the doorway. Esmeralda left.
“Do you want me to go?” Merry asked.
Frodo’s eyes darted nervously from his cousin to the doctor. “No, don’t go,” he said finally.
“Mr. Baggins, can you pull your nightshirt up for me?”
Reluctantly, Frodo reached beneath the blanket, keeping his eyes trained on the ceiling. Before he was asked, he bent his knees, too.
Merry carefully diverted his eyes.
The healer folded the blanket up over Frodo’s knees.
“Definitely some bleeding here,” he murmured.
“I had no idea,” Frodo replied sarcastically.
“Frodo,” Merry warned.
Frodo huffed. “It’s not your arse he’s about to stick his fingers up, Merry.”
“I know this is uncomfortable, but just try to relax,” Darvith soothed.
Frodo’s snarky reply was cut off by another pain. Merry offered his hand, which Frodo squeezed with all his strength.
“Remind me to keep my hands to myself when you’re giving birth,” Merry muttered.
“Wot?” Frodo gasped, still in pain.
“Nothing.”
When the pain passed, Darvith got to work. He spread Frodo’s knees farther, much to the hobbit’s chagrin. But when he reached between Frodo’s thighs, he found something he had not been expecting.
“Mr. Baggins, aside from the pain and bleeding you’re currently experiencing, have you had any other unusual symptoms?”
Frodo screwed his face up, thinking for a moment. “Just nausea. Why? Is something wrong?” he asked anxiously, sitting up on his elbows.
“Well,” the healer started nervously. He touched something behind Frodo’s bullocks and he hobbit jumped in surprise. “It seems your body is creating a birth canal. That would explain the bleeding and cramps. It’s not fully developed yet,” he paused, doing something that made Frodo yelp in pain, “I’d say about five centimetres, yet.”
He pulled his hand away and Frodo and Merry could see it was bloody.
“My best recommendation is that you put cotton sheaves in your pants, same as a lass would do, to absorb the blood. If it lasts more than a week, I want you to send for me again.”
“Great. Now I’m turning in to a lass,” Frodo moaned, his cheeks flaming.
“Mr. Baggins, with all due respect, how did you think you would deliver the babe?”
Frodo bit his lip, his face turning an even deeper scarlet.
“I guess we’ll need mum after all,” Merry quipped.
Frodo’s icy glare wiped the smirk off his cousin’s face.
Cotton sheaves were not easy to handle, nor were they consistently effective. Many times throughout the day, Frodo could feel the wetness begin pooling under his backside and he would have to change into yet another pair of Merry’s breeches, sending the soiled ones to the wash. Although Esmeralda assured him it was a common occurrence with young lasses, Frodo nevertheless burned with embarrassment every time it happened.
Thankfully, Merry was taking the whole thing in stride. Frodo’s predicament made sense to him, being a pregnant male and all, but it did little to soothe Frodo’s unease. For Frodo’s safety and the safety of the babe, they had decided Frodo would stay at Brandy Hall until the bleeding stopped. He could not expect to travel back to the Shire if he had to stop every two hours to change the cotton in his breeches. Instead, he wrote to Sam to (hopefully) keep his lover from worrying about his absence.
My Dearest Sam,
I apologise for disappearing without notice. Fear not, I am at Brandy Hall, safe with Merry and his family. I shall be staying here for a fortnight, or so, as there have been complications issues with my pregnancy. Nothing to be alarmed about, just a natural progression I had not anticipated. For that reason, I will be unable to travel.
There is no need for you to come here, Sam, which I know is the thought in your mind. I will be home soon. Please do not worry.
All my love,
Frodo
“You know that won’t keep him satisfied,” Merry commented, dryly.
“I know that. But I couldn’t very well leave him without a letter, now could I?”
Merry shrugged, and then nodded.
“Very well. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” Frodo pulled at his (Merry’s) breeches awkwardly, “I have to go... take care of myself.”
Merry tried not to laugh as Frodo hobbled by, one hand holding the crotch of his breeches away from his body.
Frodo received Sam’s letter a week later, and ironically stopped bleeding the same day.
“How many lads do you know that bleed for seven days?” Frodo had growled.
Merry just shrugged good-naturedly. “You’re the only lad I know with child, so I suppose it’s fitting.”
Irritated, Frodo had snatched Sam’s letter out of Merry’s hand and retreated to the guest room (where he refused to sleep).
Dear Frodo,
You cannot know how relieved I was to receive your letter. When you did not return that night, I was beside myself with worry. You know not what it does for my heart to know you and our babe are safe.
I am taking good care of the smial during your absence, so you can return to Bag End without a need for chores. Every day without you grows longer. I would that you return to me as soon as you are able.
Love,
Sam
Frodo clutched the letter to his chest, breathing deeply, hoping it was not his imagination that he could smell his beloved on the parchment. Two drops of water falling on the letter, distorting the ink, startled him.
Reaching up a hand, he realised he was crying. He wiped at the tears, inwardly cursing himself for being so emotional. He folded the letter carefully and placed it with his things.
“I will return to you soon, my Sam.”
Frodo could not have seen the long road ahead of him.