mpreg ficlet: Bathtime
My early morning shower got the hamster muses fired up, so I have a completely unplanned Frodo mpreg ficlet for you! :) I didn't really look at it too closely once I typed it, so any typos, etc. are completely my fault (you're lucky I spell-checked it! -even though it didn't find anything :p). Consider this my trash fic. ;) Anyway, this is part of my as-yet untitled mpreg series, and comes probably about a week and a half to two weeks before the baby is born ("Nearing Time"). Enjoy!
_Bathtime_
When Sam finally arrived back in Rivendell, Frodo was enjoying his daily bath in the spacious bathing chambers. After stopping to say a cursory hullo to Bilbo and finding him asleep, Sam timidly entered the steamy wing of Elrond's expansive home where he'd been told he could find his former master. He could hear the contented sighs and sporadic sloshing long before he caught sight of Frodo's dark curly hair bobbing in one of the larger pools.
Sam made as much noise as he could in his approach, hoping Frodo would notice his presence, but Frodo was so absorbed in enjoying the weightlessness water endowed that he wasn't startled from his reverie until Sam was only a few paces from the pool.
"Sam! You're back!" he cried with joy, awkwardly paddling over to the side of the pool, looking up at his friend as he caught hold of the tiled edge and pulled himself as close as he could manage.
"I am at that," Sam replied, dropping to one knee beside the water so he would not tower over Frodo. "How do you fare, sir?"
"I am fine," Frodo assured him, waving dismissively with a wry smile. "And none of that 'sir' nonsense. It sounds rather ridiculous given my current condition. Some days I feel more like a lass than a lad."
Sam answered with a small grin and a blush as his mind conjured up an image of his master as one of the ladies back in Hobbiton.
"Now if you don't mind," Frodo continued, "I'll finish my bath and we can have a proper chat over tea. I'm sure there are goings-on that you left out of your letters." Sam didn't disagree, and Frodo made his way back toward the middle of the water.
"Sir, shouldn't you-" Sam began to object.
"Sam." Frodo interrupted. "What did I say about 'sir'? And I can still swim perfectly well. In fact, I can float rather better than I used to." He angled himself up to demonstrate, his stomach round and full with child bobbing above the surface, buoying up the rest of his body. He sat up again, his belly again sinking below the water, and laughed at Sam's dumbfounded expression. "Haven't you ever seen a pregnant hobbit before?" he teased, paddling to the other side of the pool where several ornate bottles were lined within easy reach.
"Though it's true, he or she has grown considerably since you left," Frodo conceded, patting his middle fondly before crossing the water again, a blue bottle in hand. "Would you soap my hair?" He asked Sam pleadingly, holding out the bottle. "That's all I have left to wash."
Sam could not resist any request when Frodo gave him that beseeching look, and Frodo knew it. When Sam took the bottle, Frodo turned and faced the other way, bringing his head within Sam's reach. But Sam couldn't resist and 'accidentally' drizzled some of the cold soap down Frodo's back while squirting it into the wet locks. Frodo squirmed in surprise and shot Sam a look that would have been quite icy except for the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Just the hair, please," he requested primly as he turned back around.
This time brought no more tricks from the gardener, who quickly and efficiently worked Frodo's hair into a lather, massaging a bit as his hands moved through the dark curls. When he stopped, Frodo's head a white mass of suds, Frodo made a noise of complaint before sighing in resignation. "All right, then. Thank you, Sam." He quickly ducked underwater, driving the suds to scatter around his head like a frothy halo. His hair was soon free of soap and he moved toward the corner of the pool, where steps ascended from the bottom, with a rail situated at hobbit height.
"Would you grab my towel, please?" Frodo directed as he began to slowly heave himself out of the bath, feeling the water drop away and leaving him to bear the weight of the babe all by himself once more. Sam held up the towel and averted his eyes in respect of Frodo's privacy, not looking even once the towel had been taken from his hands.
"Now the robe," Frodo requested, and Sam went to fetch the other ample piece of fabric off the bench a few strides from the stairs. "Thank you," he sighed as he wrapped the robe around himself and tied it, and used the towel to briskly rub his hair.
When Sam finally turned, Frodo embraced him. "It's good to have you here," he admitted, sounding a bit choked. When they drew apart, Sam was surprised to see tears in Frodo's eyes, which Frodo swiped at impatiently. "Don't mind me," he said roughly. "I'm being all emotional again."
Sam smiled reassuringly. "That's all right," he answered, his thumb wiping away a few tears that managed to break free. "I'm right glad to see you so well, Mr. Frodo. And the babe, too," he said as he drew back his hand.
Frodo grabbed his hand before it dropped to his side and asked, "Do you want to feel? The babe is moving." Sam nodded hesitantly and Frodo guided his hand to his swollen abdomen, resting it above where the child lay kicking. The gardener's eyes widened as he felt the slight movements, and Frodo smiled at his expression. "I'm sure Rosie will let you feel the babe like this once you two begin having children." Sam blushed deeply and quickly dropped his hand to his side.
"How soon will it be?" He asked, eyeing Frodo's girth and mentally comparing it to lasses he'd seen in the past.
"Soon, I think," Frodo said with a sigh. "I feel fair ready to pop, but Elrond doesn't seem to think it will come just yet. Not this week, anyway," he rolled his eyes in exasperation as his stomach rumbled hungrily. "Come on," he urged, starting to walk away. "Let's go so I can put some clothes on, and then we can talk over tea. I'm starving!"
_Bathtime_
When Sam finally arrived back in Rivendell, Frodo was enjoying his daily bath in the spacious bathing chambers. After stopping to say a cursory hullo to Bilbo and finding him asleep, Sam timidly entered the steamy wing of Elrond's expansive home where he'd been told he could find his former master. He could hear the contented sighs and sporadic sloshing long before he caught sight of Frodo's dark curly hair bobbing in one of the larger pools.
Sam made as much noise as he could in his approach, hoping Frodo would notice his presence, but Frodo was so absorbed in enjoying the weightlessness water endowed that he wasn't startled from his reverie until Sam was only a few paces from the pool.
"Sam! You're back!" he cried with joy, awkwardly paddling over to the side of the pool, looking up at his friend as he caught hold of the tiled edge and pulled himself as close as he could manage.
"I am at that," Sam replied, dropping to one knee beside the water so he would not tower over Frodo. "How do you fare, sir?"
"I am fine," Frodo assured him, waving dismissively with a wry smile. "And none of that 'sir' nonsense. It sounds rather ridiculous given my current condition. Some days I feel more like a lass than a lad."
Sam answered with a small grin and a blush as his mind conjured up an image of his master as one of the ladies back in Hobbiton.
"Now if you don't mind," Frodo continued, "I'll finish my bath and we can have a proper chat over tea. I'm sure there are goings-on that you left out of your letters." Sam didn't disagree, and Frodo made his way back toward the middle of the water.
"Sir, shouldn't you-" Sam began to object.
"Sam." Frodo interrupted. "What did I say about 'sir'? And I can still swim perfectly well. In fact, I can float rather better than I used to." He angled himself up to demonstrate, his stomach round and full with child bobbing above the surface, buoying up the rest of his body. He sat up again, his belly again sinking below the water, and laughed at Sam's dumbfounded expression. "Haven't you ever seen a pregnant hobbit before?" he teased, paddling to the other side of the pool where several ornate bottles were lined within easy reach.
"Though it's true, he or she has grown considerably since you left," Frodo conceded, patting his middle fondly before crossing the water again, a blue bottle in hand. "Would you soap my hair?" He asked Sam pleadingly, holding out the bottle. "That's all I have left to wash."
Sam could not resist any request when Frodo gave him that beseeching look, and Frodo knew it. When Sam took the bottle, Frodo turned and faced the other way, bringing his head within Sam's reach. But Sam couldn't resist and 'accidentally' drizzled some of the cold soap down Frodo's back while squirting it into the wet locks. Frodo squirmed in surprise and shot Sam a look that would have been quite icy except for the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Just the hair, please," he requested primly as he turned back around.
This time brought no more tricks from the gardener, who quickly and efficiently worked Frodo's hair into a lather, massaging a bit as his hands moved through the dark curls. When he stopped, Frodo's head a white mass of suds, Frodo made a noise of complaint before sighing in resignation. "All right, then. Thank you, Sam." He quickly ducked underwater, driving the suds to scatter around his head like a frothy halo. His hair was soon free of soap and he moved toward the corner of the pool, where steps ascended from the bottom, with a rail situated at hobbit height.
"Would you grab my towel, please?" Frodo directed as he began to slowly heave himself out of the bath, feeling the water drop away and leaving him to bear the weight of the babe all by himself once more. Sam held up the towel and averted his eyes in respect of Frodo's privacy, not looking even once the towel had been taken from his hands.
"Now the robe," Frodo requested, and Sam went to fetch the other ample piece of fabric off the bench a few strides from the stairs. "Thank you," he sighed as he wrapped the robe around himself and tied it, and used the towel to briskly rub his hair.
When Sam finally turned, Frodo embraced him. "It's good to have you here," he admitted, sounding a bit choked. When they drew apart, Sam was surprised to see tears in Frodo's eyes, which Frodo swiped at impatiently. "Don't mind me," he said roughly. "I'm being all emotional again."
Sam smiled reassuringly. "That's all right," he answered, his thumb wiping away a few tears that managed to break free. "I'm right glad to see you so well, Mr. Frodo. And the babe, too," he said as he drew back his hand.
Frodo grabbed his hand before it dropped to his side and asked, "Do you want to feel? The babe is moving." Sam nodded hesitantly and Frodo guided his hand to his swollen abdomen, resting it above where the child lay kicking. The gardener's eyes widened as he felt the slight movements, and Frodo smiled at his expression. "I'm sure Rosie will let you feel the babe like this once you two begin having children." Sam blushed deeply and quickly dropped his hand to his side.
"How soon will it be?" He asked, eyeing Frodo's girth and mentally comparing it to lasses he'd seen in the past.
"Soon, I think," Frodo said with a sigh. "I feel fair ready to pop, but Elrond doesn't seem to think it will come just yet. Not this week, anyway," he rolled his eyes in exasperation as his stomach rumbled hungrily. "Come on," he urged, starting to walk away. "Let's go so I can put some clothes on, and then we can talk over tea. I'm starving!"