Just a bit of fluff today
In the Midst of Death part 6/?
M’Preg, affronts to canon, AU, h/c. Yes, I am playing appalling games with time lines, journey routes and possibilities and causing every other sort of affront - Lily made me do it!
For Frodo, the return to consciousness was akin to a slow swim upward in treacle. The first thing he became aware of was a warm smell of fresh air and sunshine mixed with the faint trace of flowers like an early spring morn. He lay for a while just delighting in the scent.
The next thing he became aware of were the sounds of birdsong; distant but clear to hobbit hearing. The simple trill of a hedge sparrow brought tears to his eyes. How long had it been since he had heard birdsong? There was a hum of other noises, horses and men moving about; the sounds of dawn in the camp.
Frodo wriggled his toes experimentally and stretched them out beneath soft blankets. It was wonderful to be lying on a surface that was not moving. He did not want to open his eyes and spoil the wonderful feelings.
But then his bed did move. The comfortable expanse upon which his head had been resting moved upward and the arms that had held Frodo close all night shifted around him.
“Good morning,” came a low rumbling voice that he heard through his back as well as his ears. Frodo turned and looked up and then tears did come to his eyes.
“I did not dream you!” he gasped.
“Nor I you.” Eomer dipped his head and bestowed a kiss upon Frodo’s forehead.
“Oh.” Frodo reached up to trace soft lips and the rough texture of facial hair around them. “I could not take it in last night. I thought to wake….”
“Shush.” Eomer nibbled on the fingers. “You are safe and I am here, and I will stay here for as long as you wish it.”
“Then that is forever.” Frodo flung his arms around the strong neck and held on for dear life. Arms came round to cradle him close and he pressed his ear to the strongly beating heart of his horse lord.
They stayed like that for some time until interrupted by a throat being cleared.
“Oh, stop being all delicate, Sam,” came another voice. “Frodo will want his breakfast more than kisses and stuff.”
Frodo turned round and laughed at his tall cousin and Sam, who each bore trays. Sam was blushing and looking anywhere but at Frodo and Eomer.
“There’s nowhere to knock on a tent,” he protested, moving to a small table and setting down his tray.
“Sam’s not even meant to be out of bed,” Merry informed Frodo as he set down his own burden and then picked up a piece of bread to munch. “But when he heard I was getting your breakfast he insisted on coming along.”
“So there would be some left.” Sam swiped at Merry’s hand as it reached for more food.
“I need to eat more now that I’m so much taller,” Merry protested.
“And how is Pippin?” Frodo wanted to know, letting loose of Eomer and moving to sit up as the man unfolded himself from the low cot.
“Much better,” Merry said. “He wasn’t throwing up all over himself yesterday and said he had a lovely sleep. He says now that he is part Ent he heals quicker.”
“And no doubt also needs extra breakfast,” Sam grumbled. He had selected a small bowl from the tray and brought it now over to Frodo with a spoon ready in it. “It’s oatmeal,” he said. “And some bread if you want it.”
“Is there any chance of a cup of tea?” Frodo asked, looking longingly at the tray.
Sam smiled. “There is, Mr. Frodo. And apple juice.”
Eomer had stretched out his long body and moved to the trays himself. Dressed in a simple loose tunic and leggings with his hair sleep mussed, he looked very young.
“There’s meat stew for you, my Lord Eomer,” said Merry, bowing slightly. “But Aragorn says you are to give none to Frodo no matter how much he pleads,” he finished with a cheeky smile. “His stomach is too delicate.”
“I’ll give you too delicate,” Frodo muttered, but spooned up his oatmeal hungrily. He accepted a cup of tea from Sam but Eomer grimaced when it was offered to him.
Merry laughed. “You’ll have to make a proper hobbit of our king,” he teased disrespectfully. “He says he won’t drink dried leaves boiled in water. It’s an old woman’s drink.”
“Do all your sworn subjects treat you so?” Frodo asked of Eomer.
Merry strode over to Frodo’s cot and dropped a kiss on his cousin’s head. “I am too pleased to see you sitting up and smiling to be respectful,” he said, but then turned and swept Eomer a flourishing bow. “Your pardon, Eomer King.”
“Granted,” grinned Eomer
tbc
M’Preg, affronts to canon, AU, h/c. Yes, I am playing appalling games with time lines, journey routes and possibilities and causing every other sort of affront - Lily made me do it!
For Frodo, the return to consciousness was akin to a slow swim upward in treacle. The first thing he became aware of was a warm smell of fresh air and sunshine mixed with the faint trace of flowers like an early spring morn. He lay for a while just delighting in the scent.
The next thing he became aware of were the sounds of birdsong; distant but clear to hobbit hearing. The simple trill of a hedge sparrow brought tears to his eyes. How long had it been since he had heard birdsong? There was a hum of other noises, horses and men moving about; the sounds of dawn in the camp.
Frodo wriggled his toes experimentally and stretched them out beneath soft blankets. It was wonderful to be lying on a surface that was not moving. He did not want to open his eyes and spoil the wonderful feelings.
But then his bed did move. The comfortable expanse upon which his head had been resting moved upward and the arms that had held Frodo close all night shifted around him.
“Good morning,” came a low rumbling voice that he heard through his back as well as his ears. Frodo turned and looked up and then tears did come to his eyes.
“I did not dream you!” he gasped.
“Nor I you.” Eomer dipped his head and bestowed a kiss upon Frodo’s forehead.
“Oh.” Frodo reached up to trace soft lips and the rough texture of facial hair around them. “I could not take it in last night. I thought to wake….”
“Shush.” Eomer nibbled on the fingers. “You are safe and I am here, and I will stay here for as long as you wish it.”
“Then that is forever.” Frodo flung his arms around the strong neck and held on for dear life. Arms came round to cradle him close and he pressed his ear to the strongly beating heart of his horse lord.
They stayed like that for some time until interrupted by a throat being cleared.
“Oh, stop being all delicate, Sam,” came another voice. “Frodo will want his breakfast more than kisses and stuff.”
Frodo turned round and laughed at his tall cousin and Sam, who each bore trays. Sam was blushing and looking anywhere but at Frodo and Eomer.
“There’s nowhere to knock on a tent,” he protested, moving to a small table and setting down his tray.
“Sam’s not even meant to be out of bed,” Merry informed Frodo as he set down his own burden and then picked up a piece of bread to munch. “But when he heard I was getting your breakfast he insisted on coming along.”
“So there would be some left.” Sam swiped at Merry’s hand as it reached for more food.
“I need to eat more now that I’m so much taller,” Merry protested.
“And how is Pippin?” Frodo wanted to know, letting loose of Eomer and moving to sit up as the man unfolded himself from the low cot.
“Much better,” Merry said. “He wasn’t throwing up all over himself yesterday and said he had a lovely sleep. He says now that he is part Ent he heals quicker.”
“And no doubt also needs extra breakfast,” Sam grumbled. He had selected a small bowl from the tray and brought it now over to Frodo with a spoon ready in it. “It’s oatmeal,” he said. “And some bread if you want it.”
“Is there any chance of a cup of tea?” Frodo asked, looking longingly at the tray.
Sam smiled. “There is, Mr. Frodo. And apple juice.”
Eomer had stretched out his long body and moved to the trays himself. Dressed in a simple loose tunic and leggings with his hair sleep mussed, he looked very young.
“There’s meat stew for you, my Lord Eomer,” said Merry, bowing slightly. “But Aragorn says you are to give none to Frodo no matter how much he pleads,” he finished with a cheeky smile. “His stomach is too delicate.”
“I’ll give you too delicate,” Frodo muttered, but spooned up his oatmeal hungrily. He accepted a cup of tea from Sam but Eomer grimaced when it was offered to him.
Merry laughed. “You’ll have to make a proper hobbit of our king,” he teased disrespectfully. “He says he won’t drink dried leaves boiled in water. It’s an old woman’s drink.”
“Do all your sworn subjects treat you so?” Frodo asked of Eomer.
Merry strode over to Frodo’s cot and dropped a kiss on his cousin’s head. “I am too pleased to see you sitting up and smiling to be respectful,” he said, but then turned and swept Eomer a flourishing bow. “Your pardon, Eomer King.”
“Granted,” grinned Eomer
tbc