yet another one...
Well, here is yet another piece of my mpreg series. It takes place right after the last one I posted, and tells more of Frodo's reaction to the startling news. And yeah, sorry the scenario isn't exactly the most believable, but hey, it's obviously fiction, and I had to get around the whole slash issue somehow (I may read some, but I won't write it). So that left me with very few choices, of course. ;) Anyway, on with the fic! (and I did remember to spell-check ;))
_Aftermath_
Frodo kept walking until the sound of the others faded away and he could hear only his ragged breathing and the whispering wind. He sank to the ground at the base of a shady tree and hugged his knees to his chest as he let his head fall back against the rough bark of the trunk. Why had this happened? No, that wasn't right... he could pinpoint exactly why and probably even say about when it happened. But he didn't understand how, and he certainly hadn't intended for things to turn out this way! All he'd done was wish for a wife, a family, a normal life...
It was about the time of Aragorn and Arwen's wedding, after Faramir and Eowyn announced their intention to wed, and the hobbits had turned their thoughts to finally heading home. He had been melancholy and lonely, thinking of the Shire, wanting to go back, yet not satisfied. Sam would be returning to his Gaffer and Rosie he was sure had waited for Sam's return; Merry would return to Buckland and his parents; and Pippin would certainly go home to his own parents, not being yet of age. But him... his only real family was Bilbo, and he was in Rivendell. He would visit him, of course, but he longed to go home to the Shire, yet knew once he got there he would have no one to come home to.
No lass was waiting for him, his parents were dead, he had no siblings... he wished he could have something resembling a normal life, but knew no lass would want him now, not with his previous reputation for oddity and now his physical deformity in addition to being away for so long among outlandish folk. No hobbit with any hobbit-sense would want to associate with him now, he'd thought bitterly. So he just wished. Wished for a nice lass, a cozy hole, a few children eventually... some semblance of a normal life.
Except it turned out like this. With him becoming even more abnormal than ever. He bit back a sob as he rested his forehead on his knees and tears began to course down his face. Now he just wanted it to go away, to go back to before and undo his wishing so this would never happen. But he couldn't. He knew that, but he couldn't seem to make himself accept it.
He stiffened when he heard footsteps approaching, but didn't lift his face, embarrassed of his tears. He heard the rustle of clothing as the person sat next to him, then felt a large hand upon his back, rubbing it in unspoken support. "G-go away," he managed, ashamed of how his voice sounded so shaky and upset.
"No," came the soft reply as the hand on his back stopped its motion momentarily. "As your King, I could command you to look at me, but I won't."
"Why would the King want to look into the face of such an unnatural creature?"
Aragorn sighed. "Oh, Frodo... come here." He embraced the hobbit tightly and Frodo uncurled slightly, allowing himself to be pulled into the Man's lap and burying his tear-stained face into the familiar travelling-clothes. Aragorn let him cry himself dry, not saying anything, merely reassuring him with his embrace and a hand rubbing his back.
Finally Frodo seemed to run out of tears, though he still sniffled, drying his eyes with his sleeve and resting his cheek against Aragorn's chest. The Man remained silent, waiting for the hobbit to say what he needed to say when he was ready to say it. "It's not going to just go away, is it?" the small voice wryly ventured at last.
Aragorn chuckled. "No, it's not."
"I was afraid of that..." he fell silent for a while longer. "So... what happens next?"
"Pardon?" Aragorn wasn't quite sure what he meant by that.
"How is it going to go from here? For me... and this baby..." he sounded strangled near the end, but kept his composure.
"Well, Elrond will want to examine you closely very soon. I am not sure exactly how things will proceed for you, but I imagine it will be much like a female pregnancy. Over the next several months the babe will grow and develop and at the appointed time, it will be born. You cannot see it or feel it just yet, but soon enough your stomach will swell as the child grows and you will be able to feel him or her move."
Frodo gulped and asked shakily, "A-and how long until that happens?"
"It depends on how long you have carried it already. Elrond should be able to estimate that once you let him take a look at you."
The hobbit sighed heavily. "And how many people know about this... embarrassment?"
Aragorn looked down at him, but Frodo would not look up. "Frodo, it is not an embarrassment. But if you insist on viewing it as such, only those you wish to know will be told. At least, until it becomes obvious... Right now, those who know are myself, Elrond, Gandalf, Galadriel, and, of course, Sam."
Frodo shrank back in horror. "The Lady knows?" he whispered, dismayed.
"Aye. She was one of the first to notice a difference about you, and the first to recognize what it meant."
He gave a shuddering sigh and murmured, "I don't want to deal with this... I'm so tired..."
Aragorn tightened his arms a bit and answered, "You don't have to solve everything now, silly hobbit. You still have plenty of time. Just rest." It didn't take long for his weariness to overcome him, and soon Frodo's breaths deepened and evened out. Aragorn waited until he was sure Frodo was deeply asleep before carrying him back to camp.
"Wake up, sir. It's time for dinner," Sam softly called, gently shaking the sleeping form of his master. The sun had set, the dusky remnants of its light fading as the stars began their nightly appearance, and the large fire in the center of camp provided ample light as well as warmth against the encroaching chill of night air from the mountains.
Frodo groaned his protest and cracked open an eye. "Let me sleep. I don't feel like eating..."
"Now, none o' that, sir. Strider insisted I wake you and be sure you ate something. And I agree," he asserted, crossing his arms and giving Frodo the sternest look he could manage.
Frodo gave a martyred sigh and rolled onto his back. "All right, I'm up," he grunted as he sat up, rubbed his eyes, and yawned. He followed Sam to the fire and dutifully took his bowl and sat down, slowly chewing its contents without really paying attention to what he was putting into his mouth.
Pippin noticed his preoccupation, and suggested to Merry that they slip something into their cousin's bowl just to see if he would notice before he tried to eat it. Apparently their debate over just what to try to get him to eat was a bit overeager, for Sam heard them and gave them a forbidding glare before turning back to his surreptitious observation of Frodo.
Once Frodo finished eating, Sam rescued his bowl, for Frodo would have continued the motions of eating long after the food was gone before realizing he was 'eating' empty air. He murmured his thanks as Sam took it, then propped his elbows on his knees and his chin on his hands as he gazed thoughtfully into the fire. For some moments he sat such, shifting uncomfortably from time to time before standing and excusing himself. He strolled off into the bushes, hurrying once he thought no one was looking, and disappeared into the shadows.
Sam moved to follow him, waiting a moment or two to give Frodo his privacy, but certain he had not left to perform one of the usual functions. He grabbed his water flask without thinking as he headed the same direction he'd seen Frodo go. Before too long he only needed to follow his ears, the sound of retching carrying clearly through the shrubbery.
Frodo did not notice Sam's approach, but welcomed the supporting arms and the water bottle that materialized in his hand once he finished getting rid of his dinner. "I'm sorry," he gasped amidst sobs he could not hold back.
"Shush. It's all right," Sam soothed as he held his shaking master upright. Frodo cried onto his shoulder and he just held him, gently rubbing his back.
After a time Frodo's sobs quieted, and he whispered, "I'm scared, Sam..."
"I would be, too," Sam confessed. "But it'll be all right... you've got both Strider and Lord Elrond to fuss over you. Don't worry yourself sick over this. It won't do you nor that babe any good."
"I-I know..." Frodo said miserably. "I'm just so confused and frightened..."
"Come on," Sam urged, tugging Frodo upwards as he stood. "Things'll look better in the morning. Let's get you to bed."
"That sounds wonderful," Frodo mumbled.
~~~~
_Aftermath_
Frodo kept walking until the sound of the others faded away and he could hear only his ragged breathing and the whispering wind. He sank to the ground at the base of a shady tree and hugged his knees to his chest as he let his head fall back against the rough bark of the trunk. Why had this happened? No, that wasn't right... he could pinpoint exactly why and probably even say about when it happened. But he didn't understand how, and he certainly hadn't intended for things to turn out this way! All he'd done was wish for a wife, a family, a normal life...
It was about the time of Aragorn and Arwen's wedding, after Faramir and Eowyn announced their intention to wed, and the hobbits had turned their thoughts to finally heading home. He had been melancholy and lonely, thinking of the Shire, wanting to go back, yet not satisfied. Sam would be returning to his Gaffer and Rosie he was sure had waited for Sam's return; Merry would return to Buckland and his parents; and Pippin would certainly go home to his own parents, not being yet of age. But him... his only real family was Bilbo, and he was in Rivendell. He would visit him, of course, but he longed to go home to the Shire, yet knew once he got there he would have no one to come home to.
No lass was waiting for him, his parents were dead, he had no siblings... he wished he could have something resembling a normal life, but knew no lass would want him now, not with his previous reputation for oddity and now his physical deformity in addition to being away for so long among outlandish folk. No hobbit with any hobbit-sense would want to associate with him now, he'd thought bitterly. So he just wished. Wished for a nice lass, a cozy hole, a few children eventually... some semblance of a normal life.
Except it turned out like this. With him becoming even more abnormal than ever. He bit back a sob as he rested his forehead on his knees and tears began to course down his face. Now he just wanted it to go away, to go back to before and undo his wishing so this would never happen. But he couldn't. He knew that, but he couldn't seem to make himself accept it.
He stiffened when he heard footsteps approaching, but didn't lift his face, embarrassed of his tears. He heard the rustle of clothing as the person sat next to him, then felt a large hand upon his back, rubbing it in unspoken support. "G-go away," he managed, ashamed of how his voice sounded so shaky and upset.
"No," came the soft reply as the hand on his back stopped its motion momentarily. "As your King, I could command you to look at me, but I won't."
"Why would the King want to look into the face of such an unnatural creature?"
Aragorn sighed. "Oh, Frodo... come here." He embraced the hobbit tightly and Frodo uncurled slightly, allowing himself to be pulled into the Man's lap and burying his tear-stained face into the familiar travelling-clothes. Aragorn let him cry himself dry, not saying anything, merely reassuring him with his embrace and a hand rubbing his back.
Finally Frodo seemed to run out of tears, though he still sniffled, drying his eyes with his sleeve and resting his cheek against Aragorn's chest. The Man remained silent, waiting for the hobbit to say what he needed to say when he was ready to say it. "It's not going to just go away, is it?" the small voice wryly ventured at last.
Aragorn chuckled. "No, it's not."
"I was afraid of that..." he fell silent for a while longer. "So... what happens next?"
"Pardon?" Aragorn wasn't quite sure what he meant by that.
"How is it going to go from here? For me... and this baby..." he sounded strangled near the end, but kept his composure.
"Well, Elrond will want to examine you closely very soon. I am not sure exactly how things will proceed for you, but I imagine it will be much like a female pregnancy. Over the next several months the babe will grow and develop and at the appointed time, it will be born. You cannot see it or feel it just yet, but soon enough your stomach will swell as the child grows and you will be able to feel him or her move."
Frodo gulped and asked shakily, "A-and how long until that happens?"
"It depends on how long you have carried it already. Elrond should be able to estimate that once you let him take a look at you."
The hobbit sighed heavily. "And how many people know about this... embarrassment?"
Aragorn looked down at him, but Frodo would not look up. "Frodo, it is not an embarrassment. But if you insist on viewing it as such, only those you wish to know will be told. At least, until it becomes obvious... Right now, those who know are myself, Elrond, Gandalf, Galadriel, and, of course, Sam."
Frodo shrank back in horror. "The Lady knows?" he whispered, dismayed.
"Aye. She was one of the first to notice a difference about you, and the first to recognize what it meant."
He gave a shuddering sigh and murmured, "I don't want to deal with this... I'm so tired..."
Aragorn tightened his arms a bit and answered, "You don't have to solve everything now, silly hobbit. You still have plenty of time. Just rest." It didn't take long for his weariness to overcome him, and soon Frodo's breaths deepened and evened out. Aragorn waited until he was sure Frodo was deeply asleep before carrying him back to camp.
"Wake up, sir. It's time for dinner," Sam softly called, gently shaking the sleeping form of his master. The sun had set, the dusky remnants of its light fading as the stars began their nightly appearance, and the large fire in the center of camp provided ample light as well as warmth against the encroaching chill of night air from the mountains.
Frodo groaned his protest and cracked open an eye. "Let me sleep. I don't feel like eating..."
"Now, none o' that, sir. Strider insisted I wake you and be sure you ate something. And I agree," he asserted, crossing his arms and giving Frodo the sternest look he could manage.
Frodo gave a martyred sigh and rolled onto his back. "All right, I'm up," he grunted as he sat up, rubbed his eyes, and yawned. He followed Sam to the fire and dutifully took his bowl and sat down, slowly chewing its contents without really paying attention to what he was putting into his mouth.
Pippin noticed his preoccupation, and suggested to Merry that they slip something into their cousin's bowl just to see if he would notice before he tried to eat it. Apparently their debate over just what to try to get him to eat was a bit overeager, for Sam heard them and gave them a forbidding glare before turning back to his surreptitious observation of Frodo.
Once Frodo finished eating, Sam rescued his bowl, for Frodo would have continued the motions of eating long after the food was gone before realizing he was 'eating' empty air. He murmured his thanks as Sam took it, then propped his elbows on his knees and his chin on his hands as he gazed thoughtfully into the fire. For some moments he sat such, shifting uncomfortably from time to time before standing and excusing himself. He strolled off into the bushes, hurrying once he thought no one was looking, and disappeared into the shadows.
Sam moved to follow him, waiting a moment or two to give Frodo his privacy, but certain he had not left to perform one of the usual functions. He grabbed his water flask without thinking as he headed the same direction he'd seen Frodo go. Before too long he only needed to follow his ears, the sound of retching carrying clearly through the shrubbery.
Frodo did not notice Sam's approach, but welcomed the supporting arms and the water bottle that materialized in his hand once he finished getting rid of his dinner. "I'm sorry," he gasped amidst sobs he could not hold back.
"Shush. It's all right," Sam soothed as he held his shaking master upright. Frodo cried onto his shoulder and he just held him, gently rubbing his back.
After a time Frodo's sobs quieted, and he whispered, "I'm scared, Sam..."
"I would be, too," Sam confessed. "But it'll be all right... you've got both Strider and Lord Elrond to fuss over you. Don't worry yourself sick over this. It won't do you nor that babe any good."
"I-I know..." Frodo said miserably. "I'm just so confused and frightened..."
"Come on," Sam urged, tugging Frodo upwards as he stood. "Things'll look better in the morning. Let's get you to bed."
"That sounds wonderful," Frodo mumbled.
~~~~