pre-surgery offering...
I made myself promise that I would post the next part of this before going incommunicado for surgery. :) The appearance of the next part will depend upon whether or not I can work on it while I'm bumming around on the couch. ;)
Title: Burden, 2/?
Rating: will vary, G/PG for this portion
Warnings: mpreg (duh)
Summary: Pre-Quest, a young hobbit finds himself lost and in some trouble far from home.
A/N: I don't think I mentioned this previously, but this fic is an odd assortment of book-canon and movie-verse (like most of my fics :p).
Previous chapter:
Burden, 1/?
Frodo did not immediately answer; instead, he laboriously began pushing himself upright. It took several minutes and more strength than he'd reckoned, but at last he was sitting up, leaning heavily against the tree. Once able to again move his limbs, he pulled aside his blanket and cloak that had been obscuring his form and revealed his over-large belly, taut and round. "Don't you understand?" he said at last. "There is something wrong with me! You don't want to associate with this," he motioned toward himself. He added bitterly, "Feel free to stare -everyone else does."
Aragorn's first thought was that Eredan was correct about the hobbit being unusually round; his second thought speculated on what could cause such a condition. If Frodo were a lass, he'd recognize the situation immediately -two of the hobbits they'd previously found were lasses in that condition, but both had regrettably perished, one while giving birth. But since Frodo was not female, more investigation was necessary. "Frodo," he said gently, "I have some skill in the healing arts. I may be able to help you. At the least, I can try to determine what ails you." He let this sink in for a few moments, then continued, "But I cannot do that here: you must allow me to take you to a more protected place. There I will do as much as I can to help you."
The hobbit seemed to consider this as he almost visibly wilted -he was very pale, nearly grey, underneath the grime on his face, and he had to struggle to summon the strength to pull cloak and blanket back over himself. Aragorn's relief knew no bounds when Frodo nodded hesitantly. "But you must promise to let me die if it comes to that," he murmured.
"Only if it comes to that," Aragorn confirmed as he moved closer to the hobbit and reached back to loosen his blanket from his pack.
Frodo did not resist as Aragorn eased the large blanket around him, wrapping it snugly enough to be warm but not tight enough to be uncomfortable. He supposed he hould be grateful for that consideration, but couldn't quite find it in himself to care. He was so tired . . .
It was easier to lift Frodo than it should have been, which only strengthened Aragorn's resolve to do whatever he could to help the poor lad. The walk to the camp was quiet and uneventful. Frodo dozed for much of the way, once he became accustomed to the bumps and jolts involved when one is being carried. Aragorn walked as carefully as possible, mindful of the hobbit's comfort, so it took a bit more time than usual to traverse the distance to camp. The way was well lit by the light of the nearly full moon, and the spot was one they'd used for camp in the past, so Aragorn found it easily. Hildar rose to greet him, explaining that Eredan was out on patrol, but they'd fetched water and laid out their bedrolls so all would be ready for the hobbit.
Once the still-sleeping Frodo was settled on the bedrolls not far from the small fire, Hildar withdrew as well, so as not to overwhelm the hobbit, but remained within earshot, should anything be needed. And so Aragorn was again alone with Frodo. He quietly watched him sleep for a moment, then set to mixing up a thin porridge -if Frodo hadn't eaten anything in days, he wouldn't be able to stomach much, but porridge was generally easy to keep down. While the porridge cooked, Aragorn set to steeping some herbs. Since he did not yet know what ailed the hobbit, he was limited in his choices, and decided to stick with a few restoratives that would help Frodo recover his strength more quickly. This infusion he would add to the porridge, perhaps with a bit of honey to mask the herbal taste.
He periodically checked on Frodo during the food preparation; the lad slept soundly (but Aragorn would feel more at ease once he knew the hobbit had eaten something). It was near midnight by the time the porridge was ready and cooled enough to eat. Aragorn poured a small portion in a cup and fetched a spoon before sitting next to Frodo. He gently shook the hobbit's shoulder, saying, "Frodo, wake up."
Frodo was startled from slumber by a large hand shaking him, and he shrank back from it even before opening his eyes. He heard, "Easy now, it's only me," and ventured to open his eyes. The hand had left and he found himself relaxing slightly as he began to remember where he was.
"Are you awake?" Aragorn asked after a few moments. He hadn't entirely expected to startle Frodo that badly, and was anxious to avoid worsening the situation. A small nod was his response. "Are you warm enough?" This merited a shrug. "Can you sit up? I have some porridge for you." The blanket bundle heaved a sigh but began to stir.
Frodo did well -he got almost all the way up before Aragorn intervened and had him lean against him for support. Once Frodo seemed settled, Aragorn brought forth the porridge. "Now, let's take this slowly. Do you need me to help you?"
Frodo bit his lip in thought, then nodded. They quickly fell into a pattern of offering a spoonful, reluctant acceptance, and slow consumption until Frodo turned his head and refused any more. He'd nearly finished the portion in the cup, which Aragorn deemed more than sufficient for the moment. He put the cup aside and offered his waterskin, which Frodo accepted without hesitation.
Once Frodo drank his fill, he yawned and allowed himself to settle against Aragorn. The Man's coat was softer than its weatherbeaten appearance would have suggested, and made a passable pillow. He was quickly falling into sleep when he heard, "Are you warm enough?" He just shrugged; he didn't pay any attention to that anymore. He felt more than heard the Man's sigh, then felt the arm supporting his back move around his shoulder.
A gentle touch passed over his forehead, cheeks, nose, and eartips to judge their temperature. Then a teasing voice said, "Now where are your hands in this heap?" His hands reluctantly made an appearance and were judged acceptable. "And your feet?" He pointed toward where his toes were making the blanket twitch; Aragorn had to stretch a bit, but was able to reach without allowing Frodo to fall over (for if the Man let go, he would certainly end up on the ground with as tired as he was).
"Your feet are rather cold, Frodo," Aragorn said after a moment. "If you'll let me help you lie down, I can get something to remedy that."
He only nodded, and was soon reclining on the bedrolls once more. He watched with slight interest as Aragorn dug through his back, finally bringing forth two long, grey things.
"I know this isn't hobbit custom," he said as he returned and squatted at Frodo's feet, "but these socks should keep your toes from falling off, at least." He grinned, but Frodo could only watch, somewhat perplexed. He'd never worn socks before.
When the socks were on (going right up to his knees and a little beyond, with length to spare), Frodo moved his feet experimentally. How odd. His foot fur was being rubbed the wrong way, and he could feel his embarrassingly jagged toenails catching in the woolen threads, but he did have to admit he felt a bit warmer (now that he was paying attention to that sensation).
Speaking of sensations, he felt like what he'd eaten was trying to come back up and he swallowed uneasily. When the feeling continued, he shakily pushed himself up.
"Are you all right?" Aragorn asked, his concern evident.
"Feels like I'll be sick," he said miserably.
Aragorn was at his side in an instant. "Does sitting up help?"
He had to wait before answering, to see if it did help or not, but at length he nodded. "Makes it stay down," he murmured, closing his eyes and concentrating on making the feeling stop. He felt the blankets being tucked more securely, then was lifted and placed on the Man's lap. He stiffened and was brought abruptly to the question: does he trust this Ranger? He is completely at the Man's mercy, and while he dislikes the situation, Aragorn has been kind thus far. He would have to trust him, and hope he would end up no worse off -though worse off would be dead, and perhaps that wouldn't be so bad...
"Are you all right?" Aragorn asked, feeling Frodo stiffen, thinking maybe he needed to be sick. But the hobbit nodded, closed his eyes, and appeared to relax, so he settled in for a watchful night.
Frodo slept uneasily, seeming to wake every time the Ranger so much as took a deep breath. Aragorn asked frequently if all was well, Frodo always nodded in assent, so after a while the Man stopped asking. Instead, he would offer a drink of water, a bit of porridge, and so made the best of the hobbit's wakefulness.
When Frodo was awake around dawn, Aragorn suggested they get an early start and Frodo agreed. Frodo ate the remaining porridge without complaint, but when Aragorn made ready to pick him up, he said hesitantly, "I... I need to, uh, go visit the woods for a moment, if you don't mind."
"Of course," Aragorn assured him, and took him to the edge of the woods to properly address matters. He found this encouraging; though Frodo was too weak to do much unaided, he was responding appropriately to what he'd consumed, and thus would likely recover well, given a chance to rest.
Once they were again moving through the woods, Frodo found himself falling readily into sleep -perhaps because he knew the Man couldn't do anything to him without dropping him or stopping or both, and he knew he'd wake up then. The day passed quickly, as he barely woke and Aragorn seemed content to let him sleep. He did not fully rouse until the rhythmic footfalls in frozen grass and leaves changed to the hollow sound of boots on a wood floor and he was laid on something soft. He looked up to see Aragorn pulling a few more blankets over him. The Man smiled at him. "Just rest, Frodo. We'll take good care of you."
He probably shouldn't fully trust him, but Frodo found it difficult to be wary at the moment. "It's been months since I've been in a bed," he sighed and, pulling the blankets closer to his chin, he went back to sleep.
~~~~
Continued here
Title: Burden, 2/?
Rating: will vary, G/PG for this portion
Warnings: mpreg (duh)
Summary: Pre-Quest, a young hobbit finds himself lost and in some trouble far from home.
A/N: I don't think I mentioned this previously, but this fic is an odd assortment of book-canon and movie-verse (like most of my fics :p).
Previous chapter:
Burden, 1/?
Frodo did not immediately answer; instead, he laboriously began pushing himself upright. It took several minutes and more strength than he'd reckoned, but at last he was sitting up, leaning heavily against the tree. Once able to again move his limbs, he pulled aside his blanket and cloak that had been obscuring his form and revealed his over-large belly, taut and round. "Don't you understand?" he said at last. "There is something wrong with me! You don't want to associate with this," he motioned toward himself. He added bitterly, "Feel free to stare -everyone else does."
Aragorn's first thought was that Eredan was correct about the hobbit being unusually round; his second thought speculated on what could cause such a condition. If Frodo were a lass, he'd recognize the situation immediately -two of the hobbits they'd previously found were lasses in that condition, but both had regrettably perished, one while giving birth. But since Frodo was not female, more investigation was necessary. "Frodo," he said gently, "I have some skill in the healing arts. I may be able to help you. At the least, I can try to determine what ails you." He let this sink in for a few moments, then continued, "But I cannot do that here: you must allow me to take you to a more protected place. There I will do as much as I can to help you."
The hobbit seemed to consider this as he almost visibly wilted -he was very pale, nearly grey, underneath the grime on his face, and he had to struggle to summon the strength to pull cloak and blanket back over himself. Aragorn's relief knew no bounds when Frodo nodded hesitantly. "But you must promise to let me die if it comes to that," he murmured.
"Only if it comes to that," Aragorn confirmed as he moved closer to the hobbit and reached back to loosen his blanket from his pack.
Frodo did not resist as Aragorn eased the large blanket around him, wrapping it snugly enough to be warm but not tight enough to be uncomfortable. He supposed he hould be grateful for that consideration, but couldn't quite find it in himself to care. He was so tired . . .
It was easier to lift Frodo than it should have been, which only strengthened Aragorn's resolve to do whatever he could to help the poor lad. The walk to the camp was quiet and uneventful. Frodo dozed for much of the way, once he became accustomed to the bumps and jolts involved when one is being carried. Aragorn walked as carefully as possible, mindful of the hobbit's comfort, so it took a bit more time than usual to traverse the distance to camp. The way was well lit by the light of the nearly full moon, and the spot was one they'd used for camp in the past, so Aragorn found it easily. Hildar rose to greet him, explaining that Eredan was out on patrol, but they'd fetched water and laid out their bedrolls so all would be ready for the hobbit.
Once the still-sleeping Frodo was settled on the bedrolls not far from the small fire, Hildar withdrew as well, so as not to overwhelm the hobbit, but remained within earshot, should anything be needed. And so Aragorn was again alone with Frodo. He quietly watched him sleep for a moment, then set to mixing up a thin porridge -if Frodo hadn't eaten anything in days, he wouldn't be able to stomach much, but porridge was generally easy to keep down. While the porridge cooked, Aragorn set to steeping some herbs. Since he did not yet know what ailed the hobbit, he was limited in his choices, and decided to stick with a few restoratives that would help Frodo recover his strength more quickly. This infusion he would add to the porridge, perhaps with a bit of honey to mask the herbal taste.
He periodically checked on Frodo during the food preparation; the lad slept soundly (but Aragorn would feel more at ease once he knew the hobbit had eaten something). It was near midnight by the time the porridge was ready and cooled enough to eat. Aragorn poured a small portion in a cup and fetched a spoon before sitting next to Frodo. He gently shook the hobbit's shoulder, saying, "Frodo, wake up."
Frodo was startled from slumber by a large hand shaking him, and he shrank back from it even before opening his eyes. He heard, "Easy now, it's only me," and ventured to open his eyes. The hand had left and he found himself relaxing slightly as he began to remember where he was.
"Are you awake?" Aragorn asked after a few moments. He hadn't entirely expected to startle Frodo that badly, and was anxious to avoid worsening the situation. A small nod was his response. "Are you warm enough?" This merited a shrug. "Can you sit up? I have some porridge for you." The blanket bundle heaved a sigh but began to stir.
Frodo did well -he got almost all the way up before Aragorn intervened and had him lean against him for support. Once Frodo seemed settled, Aragorn brought forth the porridge. "Now, let's take this slowly. Do you need me to help you?"
Frodo bit his lip in thought, then nodded. They quickly fell into a pattern of offering a spoonful, reluctant acceptance, and slow consumption until Frodo turned his head and refused any more. He'd nearly finished the portion in the cup, which Aragorn deemed more than sufficient for the moment. He put the cup aside and offered his waterskin, which Frodo accepted without hesitation.
Once Frodo drank his fill, he yawned and allowed himself to settle against Aragorn. The Man's coat was softer than its weatherbeaten appearance would have suggested, and made a passable pillow. He was quickly falling into sleep when he heard, "Are you warm enough?" He just shrugged; he didn't pay any attention to that anymore. He felt more than heard the Man's sigh, then felt the arm supporting his back move around his shoulder.
A gentle touch passed over his forehead, cheeks, nose, and eartips to judge their temperature. Then a teasing voice said, "Now where are your hands in this heap?" His hands reluctantly made an appearance and were judged acceptable. "And your feet?" He pointed toward where his toes were making the blanket twitch; Aragorn had to stretch a bit, but was able to reach without allowing Frodo to fall over (for if the Man let go, he would certainly end up on the ground with as tired as he was).
"Your feet are rather cold, Frodo," Aragorn said after a moment. "If you'll let me help you lie down, I can get something to remedy that."
He only nodded, and was soon reclining on the bedrolls once more. He watched with slight interest as Aragorn dug through his back, finally bringing forth two long, grey things.
"I know this isn't hobbit custom," he said as he returned and squatted at Frodo's feet, "but these socks should keep your toes from falling off, at least." He grinned, but Frodo could only watch, somewhat perplexed. He'd never worn socks before.
When the socks were on (going right up to his knees and a little beyond, with length to spare), Frodo moved his feet experimentally. How odd. His foot fur was being rubbed the wrong way, and he could feel his embarrassingly jagged toenails catching in the woolen threads, but he did have to admit he felt a bit warmer (now that he was paying attention to that sensation).
Speaking of sensations, he felt like what he'd eaten was trying to come back up and he swallowed uneasily. When the feeling continued, he shakily pushed himself up.
"Are you all right?" Aragorn asked, his concern evident.
"Feels like I'll be sick," he said miserably.
Aragorn was at his side in an instant. "Does sitting up help?"
He had to wait before answering, to see if it did help or not, but at length he nodded. "Makes it stay down," he murmured, closing his eyes and concentrating on making the feeling stop. He felt the blankets being tucked more securely, then was lifted and placed on the Man's lap. He stiffened and was brought abruptly to the question: does he trust this Ranger? He is completely at the Man's mercy, and while he dislikes the situation, Aragorn has been kind thus far. He would have to trust him, and hope he would end up no worse off -though worse off would be dead, and perhaps that wouldn't be so bad...
"Are you all right?" Aragorn asked, feeling Frodo stiffen, thinking maybe he needed to be sick. But the hobbit nodded, closed his eyes, and appeared to relax, so he settled in for a watchful night.
Frodo slept uneasily, seeming to wake every time the Ranger so much as took a deep breath. Aragorn asked frequently if all was well, Frodo always nodded in assent, so after a while the Man stopped asking. Instead, he would offer a drink of water, a bit of porridge, and so made the best of the hobbit's wakefulness.
When Frodo was awake around dawn, Aragorn suggested they get an early start and Frodo agreed. Frodo ate the remaining porridge without complaint, but when Aragorn made ready to pick him up, he said hesitantly, "I... I need to, uh, go visit the woods for a moment, if you don't mind."
"Of course," Aragorn assured him, and took him to the edge of the woods to properly address matters. He found this encouraging; though Frodo was too weak to do much unaided, he was responding appropriately to what he'd consumed, and thus would likely recover well, given a chance to rest.
Once they were again moving through the woods, Frodo found himself falling readily into sleep -perhaps because he knew the Man couldn't do anything to him without dropping him or stopping or both, and he knew he'd wake up then. The day passed quickly, as he barely woke and Aragorn seemed content to let him sleep. He did not fully rouse until the rhythmic footfalls in frozen grass and leaves changed to the hollow sound of boots on a wood floor and he was laid on something soft. He looked up to see Aragorn pulling a few more blankets over him. The Man smiled at him. "Just rest, Frodo. We'll take good care of you."
He probably shouldn't fully trust him, but Frodo found it difficult to be wary at the moment. "It's been months since I've been in a bed," he sighed and, pulling the blankets closer to his chin, he went back to sleep.
~~~~
Continued here