a bit o' Fropreg fic I've been meaning to clean up and post...
Um, this was originally intended to be posted for lilybaggins' birthday. Seeing how it's been almost a week since that event, you could call this a little late. ;) And while this bit is kinda tame, I assure you that I'm working on some of the 'good' stuff (i.e. illness, labor, etc.). So, that said... here we go.
It takes place after this installment, but before this one (with some considerable time gaps on either side -I'll be filling them in... eventually). And, as always, the parts are listed in order, on the mpreg list. :)
_Moving_
It has been almost a month since the other hobbits left for the Shire, and Frodo still resents needing to be left behind. He persists in viewing the development as wholly unwelcome and unwanted, despite the gentle attempts at persuasion by Lord Elrond. Ignoring all advice and chiding of the elf, he does not allow himself to be examined and does not heed instruction on how to best care for himself. Rather, he suspects this entire situation is only to hide some more awful truth from him, and that he is instead afflicted with some horrible illness that is about to kill him. Or something. And it is worries about this that keep him awake at night, not any 'symptoms' that Elrond may suggest and then try to treat.
Lord Elrond knows of the hobbit's paranoia regarding his condition, and has attempted to dispel Frodo's suspicions by telling him he should soon feel the babe move. In fact, the elven healer has already discerned movement by the little one; Frodo dismisses the sensations as gas. Elrond provides trays full of nourishing, tempting food for Frodo's meals; Frodo refuses to eat much more than is absolutely necessary to ward off starvation, as if he can make the babe stop growing and disappear just by not feeding it. He is, as Mithrandir would say, a "ridiculous hobbit," but that statement, no matter how true, provides no hint of how to deal with said hobbit. And Elrond is running out of ideas.
It was early afternoon when Frodo stalked out of doors and away from the latest infuriating attempt to make him cooperate. He plopped himself on a bench a good distance from the house, and opened the book he had brought along to distract him from anything and everything, including the rumbling of his half-empty stomach. It annoyed him that he seemed to require so much food and rest, when he'd needed so little of both before, and he was determined to ignore even his own belly in his obstinacy.
The book provided sufficient distraction for a while, until it seemed to move of its own accord. Rubbing his stomach where he had a strange and inexplicable twitch, he straightened the book on his lap and returned to the words on the page. A few moments later, the book shifted again, and he had the distinct feeling of something prodding him.
He shook his head ruefully -so now he was imagining things!- and sat back, reclining against the bench and hugging the book against him as he soaked in the sunlight. Minutes dragged by as he grew sleepy and began to doze in the warm autumn breeze.
Frodo was jolted awake by something jabbing him again. At first, he thought the book's corner had shifted and poked him, but that was impossible, as the book remained in the same place as before. Finally, understanding began to dawn and he gingerly laid a hand on his slightly protruding stomach. The touch was almost immediately answered with another poke by something small and somewhat sharp. Experimentally, he moved his hand, and again there was an answering flutter.
He could have continued so for some time, but was startled by a voice approaching from behind him. "Another bout of gas?" Elrond inquired dryly as he smoothly sat on the bench beside Frodo, who was too enthralled to answer with more than a negative shake of the head. "What do you feel?"
It took Frodo several moments to find words to adequately describe the sensation. "A poking and prodding from inside... not very hard, but almost sharp or pointed..."
Elrond nodded. "You are finally discerning the babe's movement."
Frodo's brow creased. "Why is it so sharp?"
Elrond laid a hand on Frodo's stomach to understand the hobbit's meaning, then removed it again before he spoke. "It is for the same reason that you are yet little more than skin and bones yourself. You have not been consuming enough to give the babe any with which to build the usual layer of fat."
"Oh." Frodo looked troubled, and rightly so. He changed the subject. "What is poking me?"
"A foot, an elbow... as the babe grows, you may be able to determine the part by the movement and sensation."
"How big is the babe now?"
Elrond thought for a moment. "The length of your hand, perhaps a bit more."
Frodo sat silent, thinking. He'd been very foolish to think he could make this awkward situation go away just by pretending it didn't exist, and he'd made the tiny, innocent being suffer for it. It bothered him greatly.
Taking advantage of the thoughts he could discern flitting across the hobbit's face, Elrond rose. "Dinner will be soon be served; would you consent to allow me a few moments afterward to be certain all is well with the babe?"
Slowly, Frodo nodded. He'd been foolish long enough.
~~~~
A/N: the movement description is probably a bit exaggerated compared to what is ordinarily felt at this stage (roughly 16 weeks), but since Frodo is male and was rather thin to begin with, his case is a little different than the ordinary. ;)
Also, I'd hoped to have something to post for my birthday, but that'll probably not appear until at least when I'm at work Sunday night/Monday morning. The beginning of school has somewhat messed up fic plans. :p
It takes place after this installment, but before this one (with some considerable time gaps on either side -I'll be filling them in... eventually). And, as always, the parts are listed in order, on the mpreg list. :)
_Moving_
It has been almost a month since the other hobbits left for the Shire, and Frodo still resents needing to be left behind. He persists in viewing the development as wholly unwelcome and unwanted, despite the gentle attempts at persuasion by Lord Elrond. Ignoring all advice and chiding of the elf, he does not allow himself to be examined and does not heed instruction on how to best care for himself. Rather, he suspects this entire situation is only to hide some more awful truth from him, and that he is instead afflicted with some horrible illness that is about to kill him. Or something. And it is worries about this that keep him awake at night, not any 'symptoms' that Elrond may suggest and then try to treat.
Lord Elrond knows of the hobbit's paranoia regarding his condition, and has attempted to dispel Frodo's suspicions by telling him he should soon feel the babe move. In fact, the elven healer has already discerned movement by the little one; Frodo dismisses the sensations as gas. Elrond provides trays full of nourishing, tempting food for Frodo's meals; Frodo refuses to eat much more than is absolutely necessary to ward off starvation, as if he can make the babe stop growing and disappear just by not feeding it. He is, as Mithrandir would say, a "ridiculous hobbit," but that statement, no matter how true, provides no hint of how to deal with said hobbit. And Elrond is running out of ideas.
It was early afternoon when Frodo stalked out of doors and away from the latest infuriating attempt to make him cooperate. He plopped himself on a bench a good distance from the house, and opened the book he had brought along to distract him from anything and everything, including the rumbling of his half-empty stomach. It annoyed him that he seemed to require so much food and rest, when he'd needed so little of both before, and he was determined to ignore even his own belly in his obstinacy.
The book provided sufficient distraction for a while, until it seemed to move of its own accord. Rubbing his stomach where he had a strange and inexplicable twitch, he straightened the book on his lap and returned to the words on the page. A few moments later, the book shifted again, and he had the distinct feeling of something prodding him.
He shook his head ruefully -so now he was imagining things!- and sat back, reclining against the bench and hugging the book against him as he soaked in the sunlight. Minutes dragged by as he grew sleepy and began to doze in the warm autumn breeze.
Frodo was jolted awake by something jabbing him again. At first, he thought the book's corner had shifted and poked him, but that was impossible, as the book remained in the same place as before. Finally, understanding began to dawn and he gingerly laid a hand on his slightly protruding stomach. The touch was almost immediately answered with another poke by something small and somewhat sharp. Experimentally, he moved his hand, and again there was an answering flutter.
He could have continued so for some time, but was startled by a voice approaching from behind him. "Another bout of gas?" Elrond inquired dryly as he smoothly sat on the bench beside Frodo, who was too enthralled to answer with more than a negative shake of the head. "What do you feel?"
It took Frodo several moments to find words to adequately describe the sensation. "A poking and prodding from inside... not very hard, but almost sharp or pointed..."
Elrond nodded. "You are finally discerning the babe's movement."
Frodo's brow creased. "Why is it so sharp?"
Elrond laid a hand on Frodo's stomach to understand the hobbit's meaning, then removed it again before he spoke. "It is for the same reason that you are yet little more than skin and bones yourself. You have not been consuming enough to give the babe any with which to build the usual layer of fat."
"Oh." Frodo looked troubled, and rightly so. He changed the subject. "What is poking me?"
"A foot, an elbow... as the babe grows, you may be able to determine the part by the movement and sensation."
"How big is the babe now?"
Elrond thought for a moment. "The length of your hand, perhaps a bit more."
Frodo sat silent, thinking. He'd been very foolish to think he could make this awkward situation go away just by pretending it didn't exist, and he'd made the tiny, innocent being suffer for it. It bothered him greatly.
Taking advantage of the thoughts he could discern flitting across the hobbit's face, Elrond rose. "Dinner will be soon be served; would you consent to allow me a few moments afterward to be certain all is well with the babe?"
Slowly, Frodo nodded. He'd been foolish long enough.
~~~~
A/N: the movement description is probably a bit exaggerated compared to what is ordinarily felt at this stage (roughly 16 weeks), but since Frodo is male and was rather thin to begin with, his case is a little different than the ordinary. ;)
Also, I'd hoped to have something to post for my birthday, but that'll probably not appear until at least when I'm at work Sunday night/Monday morning. The beginning of school has somewhat messed up fic plans. :p