more of the mpreg fic...
Title: Progressing (sequel to "Preparing")
Series: Aftermath, part 3 of 5
Rating: PG-13 for subject matter
Warnings: mpreg, post-slash, male hobbit in labor
Notes: Post-Quest, Minas Tirith, blatant disregard for canon (as if you hadn't already guessed :p)
_Progressing_
It was nearly time for second breakfast before Sam, Merry, and Pippin decided to check on Frodo. He normally made an appearance by then, but when he slept badly or very well, he'd often remain in bed until elevenses, so they didn't want to disturb him too early. Sam was elected to go -he had the most luck getting Frodo out of his tempers- and Merry and Pippin went to get food from the kitchen.
Frodo was holding his breath through a pain when the door opened and made him lose his concentration. He answered the quiet "Mr. Frodo?" with a terse "What?"
Sam didn't falter. "Are you all right?"
The pain had eased, and Frodo opened his eyes to see Sam peering at him over the edge of the bed. He sat up as he reassured Sam, "I'm fine, just having some of those cramps again."
Sam's eyebrows rose. "Do you think it's Time?"
Frodo shrugged. "I don't know. They're not too bad."
Sam considered for a moment. "Have you had the wetness? Lasses always say that's the sign it's time."
"I'm not a lass. I don't know if it will be like that for me. But no, I haven't."
Sam nodded. "Will you be wanting breakfast, then? Mr. Merry and Mr. Pippin went to get it. I can have them bring it in here."
Frodo nodded reluctantly. "All right," he conceded, though he wasn't really hungry. He was quiet throughout the meal, and only picked at his food.
Sam was about to prod him to eat just a bit more when there was a knock at the door and a voice said, "Frodo? I need to speak with you." Aragorn. Frodo's eyes widened, and he immediately headed for the side of the bed opposite the door. "I'm not here," he hissed as he disappeared over the edge.
Sam answered the knock. "He's not here, sir," he informed the King as he opened the large door enough for Aragorn to see Frodo wasn't in his bed. "He just left to go to the privy."
"Really? I came from that direction and didn't see him."
Sam began to blush, but held his ground. "Perhaps he went a different way."
"Indeed," Aragorn replied absently, then changed the subject. "Sam, can you tell me why Frodo is avoiding me?"
Sam shrugged. "He's upset about something, but he won't say what."
"I said something I shouldn't have," the Man admitted bluntly, and looked for a way to get past the gardener. "And I'd like to apologize, but your master refuses to see me."
Frodo listened to the conversation with interest, but at this point another painful cramp set in and he turned his concentration to not crying out. He held his breath and prepared to wait it out. When his vision began to grow hazy and it seemed the torment would never end, he dimly felt wetness between his legs, soaking into his nightshirt.
'Either I just wet myself, or Sam was right,' he thought wryly. And if Sam was right, well, there'd be no getting out of this until it was good and over. It would be a good bit of trivia for Bilbo, at least -if he ever saw him again. For while Bilbo knew of his . . . unusual capability, his guardian didn't tell him anything of how it worked. He probably didn't know, himself. And Frodo was really beginning to wish he hadn't found out.
He opened his eyes -when had he closed them?- to find Sam, Merry, and Pippin crowded around him anxiously. "I think you were right, Sam," he said breathlessly. Once he got his breath back a bit, he asked worriedly, "Is he gone?"
There was a chuckle from somewhere on the other side of the bed. "No, Frodo, I'm still here, and will remain until I speak with you."
If looks could kill, there would have been three lifeless hobbits on the floor. "You let him in?!"
"He wouldn't leave," Sam said miserably. "Said he'd been watching the door and knew you hadn't left."
Frodo took a few deep breaths and tried not to sound annoyed. "I'm listening, Aragorn," he called over the bed.
"I'd prefer to speak face-to-face."
"I'm not dressed," Frodo retorted.
"That shouldn't matter, since I've seen you in just your skin, my dear hobbit, and not only for examinations."
"You bedded the *King*?!" Merry whispered incredulously.
"He wasn't the King then," Frodo shot back, burying his face in his hands. After a few moments he composed himself, straightened himself as much as possible, and said calmly, "All right, Aragorn. You may come 'round."
Aragorn appeared and sat facing Frodo. "I simply wanted to apologize for my comment. I did not think before I spoke. Will you condescend to forgive me?"
Frodo sighed. "It is forgiven," he said shortly. "Now will you please allow me to eat and dress in peace?" He could feel what might be another cramp coming on, and he didn't want the Man there to see it.
Aragorn nodded. "At least allow me to help you stand. I am sure sitting on the floor this long has made you stiff." The healer could sense an anxiety about Frodo's manner and wished to discover the cause.
Frodo shook his head. "I will be fine, thank you." He shifted, as if preparing to stand, but the motion seemed to draw the Man's eye to the dampness near his hips.
"Are you certain you are all right?"
"I seem to have sprung a leak," Frodo said dismissively, but any other speech was cut off by a building cramp. He closed his eyes and bowed his head, clenching his hands into fists to fight the pain.
As soon as he saw the hobbit tense, Aragorn realized the situation and reached to place a hand on Frodo's stomach. A fairly strong tension rippled beneath his fingers. "One of you get a towel, please," he commanded, watching the hobbit's frozen face for any sign the pain neared its end.
At last, Frodo began breathing again. "Frodo, you must breathe through the spasms. Now, how long have you been having the pains?"
Frodo drew a ragged breath. "Since last evening, but they have not always been this regular or this strong."
"Last night? Frodo, why didn't you tell anyone?" Frodo didn't reply. "You could have started giving birth in the middle of the night with none to help you!" Aragorn couldn't help but shudder at the thought. Pippin handed him a towel. "I want you to slide this under you for the fluid, then lie back so I can see how far you've progressed already." Frodo looked genuinely upset at his rebuke, so he gently cupped the hobbit's face in his hands. "Everything will be fine," he reassured him. "I'm here to help you."
Frodo nodded, and in a few moments he was lying flat on the floor while Aragorn 'took a peek' -something that didn't seem to use one's eyes at all and instead involved putting his fingers where Frodo wished he wouldn't put them. "You're definitely starting to come along," Aragorn said as he pulled the nightshirt back over the raised knees. "But it's not nearly far enough yet."
He helped Frodo sit up. "You'll probably be most comfortable in bed at this point. I know it is painful for you, but it's a necessary part of the process," he explained, then added, "And when it's over, you will have a babe to show for your efforts."
"And it will all be over?" Frodo asked hopefully.
"This part, at least. Your life with the babe is just beginning."
Easier said than done. Elevenses, luncheon, and afternoon tea slowly crawled by with no appreciable progress from Frodo's point of view. Except that he was more tired, more crabby, and more uncomfortable than he was earlier. Aragorn assured him the pain was accomplishing something, and began to explain just how it worked, but Frodo didn't really want to know, and quickly put an end to that topic of conversation.
Elrond had been called several hours ago, and he also reassured Frodo that this lengthy experience was common with firstborn children. Frodo glared at him and told him to keep such information to himself unless it could somehow be useful. So Elrond suggested he might want to try walking around a bit, to see if gravity and movement couldn't help things along.
Frodo was more than willing to try it, if it would get things over faster. The other hobbits followed close behind as Frodo meandered around the room, and often got in the way of Frodo's random wanderings, until he grew frustrated and demanded they stop following him immediately. Sam was the first to comply -he remembered the time in Ithilien when Frodo got so upset over something that he nigh on swooned, and while Sam wasn't sure it could happen again, he didn't want it to- and he convinced the Merry and Pippin to do so, as well.
But then Frodo staggered as he was gripped by another spasm, and might've fallen had Merry not been near enough to help him sit down. So they agreed one of them would be with Frodo at all times, and alternate their efforts. They didn't include Lord Elrond and Aragorn in their rotation -the Big Folk had other things to do, and the hobbits didn't trust their ability to react quickly if the need arose.
[Continued in "Pushing"]
Series: Aftermath, part 3 of 5
Rating: PG-13 for subject matter
Warnings: mpreg, post-slash, male hobbit in labor
Notes: Post-Quest, Minas Tirith, blatant disregard for canon (as if you hadn't already guessed :p)
_Progressing_
It was nearly time for second breakfast before Sam, Merry, and Pippin decided to check on Frodo. He normally made an appearance by then, but when he slept badly or very well, he'd often remain in bed until elevenses, so they didn't want to disturb him too early. Sam was elected to go -he had the most luck getting Frodo out of his tempers- and Merry and Pippin went to get food from the kitchen.
Frodo was holding his breath through a pain when the door opened and made him lose his concentration. He answered the quiet "Mr. Frodo?" with a terse "What?"
Sam didn't falter. "Are you all right?"
The pain had eased, and Frodo opened his eyes to see Sam peering at him over the edge of the bed. He sat up as he reassured Sam, "I'm fine, just having some of those cramps again."
Sam's eyebrows rose. "Do you think it's Time?"
Frodo shrugged. "I don't know. They're not too bad."
Sam considered for a moment. "Have you had the wetness? Lasses always say that's the sign it's time."
"I'm not a lass. I don't know if it will be like that for me. But no, I haven't."
Sam nodded. "Will you be wanting breakfast, then? Mr. Merry and Mr. Pippin went to get it. I can have them bring it in here."
Frodo nodded reluctantly. "All right," he conceded, though he wasn't really hungry. He was quiet throughout the meal, and only picked at his food.
Sam was about to prod him to eat just a bit more when there was a knock at the door and a voice said, "Frodo? I need to speak with you." Aragorn. Frodo's eyes widened, and he immediately headed for the side of the bed opposite the door. "I'm not here," he hissed as he disappeared over the edge.
Sam answered the knock. "He's not here, sir," he informed the King as he opened the large door enough for Aragorn to see Frodo wasn't in his bed. "He just left to go to the privy."
"Really? I came from that direction and didn't see him."
Sam began to blush, but held his ground. "Perhaps he went a different way."
"Indeed," Aragorn replied absently, then changed the subject. "Sam, can you tell me why Frodo is avoiding me?"
Sam shrugged. "He's upset about something, but he won't say what."
"I said something I shouldn't have," the Man admitted bluntly, and looked for a way to get past the gardener. "And I'd like to apologize, but your master refuses to see me."
Frodo listened to the conversation with interest, but at this point another painful cramp set in and he turned his concentration to not crying out. He held his breath and prepared to wait it out. When his vision began to grow hazy and it seemed the torment would never end, he dimly felt wetness between his legs, soaking into his nightshirt.
'Either I just wet myself, or Sam was right,' he thought wryly. And if Sam was right, well, there'd be no getting out of this until it was good and over. It would be a good bit of trivia for Bilbo, at least -if he ever saw him again. For while Bilbo knew of his . . . unusual capability, his guardian didn't tell him anything of how it worked. He probably didn't know, himself. And Frodo was really beginning to wish he hadn't found out.
He opened his eyes -when had he closed them?- to find Sam, Merry, and Pippin crowded around him anxiously. "I think you were right, Sam," he said breathlessly. Once he got his breath back a bit, he asked worriedly, "Is he gone?"
There was a chuckle from somewhere on the other side of the bed. "No, Frodo, I'm still here, and will remain until I speak with you."
If looks could kill, there would have been three lifeless hobbits on the floor. "You let him in?!"
"He wouldn't leave," Sam said miserably. "Said he'd been watching the door and knew you hadn't left."
Frodo took a few deep breaths and tried not to sound annoyed. "I'm listening, Aragorn," he called over the bed.
"I'd prefer to speak face-to-face."
"I'm not dressed," Frodo retorted.
"That shouldn't matter, since I've seen you in just your skin, my dear hobbit, and not only for examinations."
"You bedded the *King*?!" Merry whispered incredulously.
"He wasn't the King then," Frodo shot back, burying his face in his hands. After a few moments he composed himself, straightened himself as much as possible, and said calmly, "All right, Aragorn. You may come 'round."
Aragorn appeared and sat facing Frodo. "I simply wanted to apologize for my comment. I did not think before I spoke. Will you condescend to forgive me?"
Frodo sighed. "It is forgiven," he said shortly. "Now will you please allow me to eat and dress in peace?" He could feel what might be another cramp coming on, and he didn't want the Man there to see it.
Aragorn nodded. "At least allow me to help you stand. I am sure sitting on the floor this long has made you stiff." The healer could sense an anxiety about Frodo's manner and wished to discover the cause.
Frodo shook his head. "I will be fine, thank you." He shifted, as if preparing to stand, but the motion seemed to draw the Man's eye to the dampness near his hips.
"Are you certain you are all right?"
"I seem to have sprung a leak," Frodo said dismissively, but any other speech was cut off by a building cramp. He closed his eyes and bowed his head, clenching his hands into fists to fight the pain.
As soon as he saw the hobbit tense, Aragorn realized the situation and reached to place a hand on Frodo's stomach. A fairly strong tension rippled beneath his fingers. "One of you get a towel, please," he commanded, watching the hobbit's frozen face for any sign the pain neared its end.
At last, Frodo began breathing again. "Frodo, you must breathe through the spasms. Now, how long have you been having the pains?"
Frodo drew a ragged breath. "Since last evening, but they have not always been this regular or this strong."
"Last night? Frodo, why didn't you tell anyone?" Frodo didn't reply. "You could have started giving birth in the middle of the night with none to help you!" Aragorn couldn't help but shudder at the thought. Pippin handed him a towel. "I want you to slide this under you for the fluid, then lie back so I can see how far you've progressed already." Frodo looked genuinely upset at his rebuke, so he gently cupped the hobbit's face in his hands. "Everything will be fine," he reassured him. "I'm here to help you."
Frodo nodded, and in a few moments he was lying flat on the floor while Aragorn 'took a peek' -something that didn't seem to use one's eyes at all and instead involved putting his fingers where Frodo wished he wouldn't put them. "You're definitely starting to come along," Aragorn said as he pulled the nightshirt back over the raised knees. "But it's not nearly far enough yet."
He helped Frodo sit up. "You'll probably be most comfortable in bed at this point. I know it is painful for you, but it's a necessary part of the process," he explained, then added, "And when it's over, you will have a babe to show for your efforts."
"And it will all be over?" Frodo asked hopefully.
"This part, at least. Your life with the babe is just beginning."
Easier said than done. Elevenses, luncheon, and afternoon tea slowly crawled by with no appreciable progress from Frodo's point of view. Except that he was more tired, more crabby, and more uncomfortable than he was earlier. Aragorn assured him the pain was accomplishing something, and began to explain just how it worked, but Frodo didn't really want to know, and quickly put an end to that topic of conversation.
Elrond had been called several hours ago, and he also reassured Frodo that this lengthy experience was common with firstborn children. Frodo glared at him and told him to keep such information to himself unless it could somehow be useful. So Elrond suggested he might want to try walking around a bit, to see if gravity and movement couldn't help things along.
Frodo was more than willing to try it, if it would get things over faster. The other hobbits followed close behind as Frodo meandered around the room, and often got in the way of Frodo's random wanderings, until he grew frustrated and demanded they stop following him immediately. Sam was the first to comply -he remembered the time in Ithilien when Frodo got so upset over something that he nigh on swooned, and while Sam wasn't sure it could happen again, he didn't want it to- and he convinced the Merry and Pippin to do so, as well.
But then Frodo staggered as he was gripped by another spasm, and might've fallen had Merry not been near enough to help him sit down. So they agreed one of them would be with Frodo at all times, and alternate their efforts. They didn't include Lord Elrond and Aragorn in their rotation -the Big Folk had other things to do, and the hobbits didn't trust their ability to react quickly if the need arose.
[Continued in "Pushing"]