(no subject)
In the Midst of Death part 7/?
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!
“So cousin,” Merry turned once more to Frodo, “are you ready for your bath?”
“Oh, don’t tease me!” Frodo groaned. “What would I give for a proper bath, in a real tub and not just a wash down with flannels.”
“I am not teasing,” replied Merry, looking affronted. “Gimli thought of it. Says he got the idea from a story his dad used to tell him about a barrel ride to Laketown. In fact…” Merry cocked an ear. “I think I can hear it coming now.”
Indeed, through the noise of the camp were easily discernable the more ominous rumblings of Gimli’s voice. “Steady there, laddie,” he was saying. “I said it would be too much for you to carry. I could easily carry the whole thing myself you know; we dwarves are used to carrying loads much heavier than this.”
Merry pulled back the tent flap with a flourish to admit first Gimli - facing backward---and then Legolas. Frodo sat up in bed with his mouth falling open in a round O of surprise, for between the two was being carried a lengthways-sawn half of barrel, and Frodo could tell by the sloshing sounds that it was already full of water.
“A bath!” he cried, unable to stop himself from clapping his hands in delight. “Gimli, you are ingenious. I will never be able to thank you enough.”
Gimli lowered his half of the barrel and some water slopped out onto Legolas’s leggings. Indeed the elf had to lightly jump back a step or two before he got one of the barrel’s supports on his foot.
“Think nothing of it,” said Gimli modestly. “It was just a little idea I had. These barrels are the perfect size for a hobbit bathtub. I’m surprised no one thought of it before.”
“Pip wanted to try it out but Aragorn said he couldn’t get his bandages wet and that you should have the first honour. Do hurry up though,” said Merry, “before Pippin climbs in anyway. Gandalf has him on a tight leash but even a wizard is no match for a Took when there’s a meal or a bath in the offing.”
Frodo laughed with delight. “Then get out, you lot,” he ordered. “A bath is not a public spectacle.”
“Aragorn says someone must stay and help and make sure you don’t fall in - old dotard that you now are.”
“I’ll give you old,” but Frodo was too happy at the prospect of a bath to feel angry.
“Tell Aragorn that I will assist Frodo,” Eomer said.
“We already did,” said Merry cheekily as he danced out of the doorway with the others. “But don’t be all day at it.”
“I apologize for my cousin,” Frodo said. “He can really sometimes be quite sensible.”
Eomer was moving around the room gathering up towels and a fresh nightshirt. Frodo began to carefully ease himself from the bed but as he swung his legs out a thought struck him. He looked down at the nightshirt where it clung slightly to the rounding of his belly. Did Eomer know? Had Aragorn told him? He ran a hand over his distended stomach. What would Eomer say? Would he be horrified, revolted even to find out what an unnatural creature he had taken to his bed and sworn love to? Frodo found his hand shook and tears were welling up behind his eyes, as they seemed to do all too frequently nowadays. Whatever, this baby was Frodo’s; conceived in desperate times but out of love---and he would protect and love it with all he had in him.
“Beloved?” Eomer’s low voice drew Frodo back to the present. He looked up into the compassionate eyes of his lover.
“There is something I need to tell you,” Frodo spoke. As he did so he moved to strip the nightshirt from over his head and then took one of Eomer’s large warm hands to rest over his belly. As though by some signal, the child chose that as its first time to move beneath the skin as though in greeting to its sire.
Frodo watched a startled look chase over Eomer’s face, followed by wonder as he looked up at Frodo.
“Aragorn told me you were . . . ” And then Frodo watched bright disbelieving joy spread over his lover’s face. “Our child?” he asked with awe in his voice.
Frodo could not speak, only nod.
Eomer laughed. Frodo had never heard him laugh and it was a delightful sound.
“You do not mind?” Frodo asked at last.
“Mind?” Eomer seemed not to understand the question.
“It is not… usual .. . for male hobbits to bear children.”
“Frodo, I would beg upon bended knee for you to make Rohan your home. To stay with me for all the time we have left on Middle-earth. You have given me more joy than I ever thought to look for in life. If you will allow, I should ask to court you.”
“To court me?” Frodo giggled a little. “How very formal you are after what we have already done.”
Was it his imagination or was Eomer blushing a little?
“Frodo, we have certain precedents that we follow in Rohan. Courtship does not usually involve…that is…”
“Eomer, how old are you?” Frodo asked.
“Twenty-eight,” Eomer replied. “And I have never…I never loved anyone - never thought I could love anyone - the way I love you, Frodo Baggins.”
Frodo put his hand over his mouth, not sure if he should be shocked or amused. “I am fifty,” he said at last. “And I too have never loved the way I love you, my Eomer of Rohan. And I should be honored to come to the Golden Hall of your people.”
Eomer took Frodo in his arms and kissed his lips with tender warmth. Frodo clasped his arms about Eomer’s neck and clung on as he was suddenly lifted upwards and carried, laughing, to his waiting bath.
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!
“So cousin,” Merry turned once more to Frodo, “are you ready for your bath?”
“Oh, don’t tease me!” Frodo groaned. “What would I give for a proper bath, in a real tub and not just a wash down with flannels.”
“I am not teasing,” replied Merry, looking affronted. “Gimli thought of it. Says he got the idea from a story his dad used to tell him about a barrel ride to Laketown. In fact…” Merry cocked an ear. “I think I can hear it coming now.”
Indeed, through the noise of the camp were easily discernable the more ominous rumblings of Gimli’s voice. “Steady there, laddie,” he was saying. “I said it would be too much for you to carry. I could easily carry the whole thing myself you know; we dwarves are used to carrying loads much heavier than this.”
Merry pulled back the tent flap with a flourish to admit first Gimli - facing backward---and then Legolas. Frodo sat up in bed with his mouth falling open in a round O of surprise, for between the two was being carried a lengthways-sawn half of barrel, and Frodo could tell by the sloshing sounds that it was already full of water.
“A bath!” he cried, unable to stop himself from clapping his hands in delight. “Gimli, you are ingenious. I will never be able to thank you enough.”
Gimli lowered his half of the barrel and some water slopped out onto Legolas’s leggings. Indeed the elf had to lightly jump back a step or two before he got one of the barrel’s supports on his foot.
“Think nothing of it,” said Gimli modestly. “It was just a little idea I had. These barrels are the perfect size for a hobbit bathtub. I’m surprised no one thought of it before.”
“Pip wanted to try it out but Aragorn said he couldn’t get his bandages wet and that you should have the first honour. Do hurry up though,” said Merry, “before Pippin climbs in anyway. Gandalf has him on a tight leash but even a wizard is no match for a Took when there’s a meal or a bath in the offing.”
Frodo laughed with delight. “Then get out, you lot,” he ordered. “A bath is not a public spectacle.”
“Aragorn says someone must stay and help and make sure you don’t fall in - old dotard that you now are.”
“I’ll give you old,” but Frodo was too happy at the prospect of a bath to feel angry.
“Tell Aragorn that I will assist Frodo,” Eomer said.
“We already did,” said Merry cheekily as he danced out of the doorway with the others. “But don’t be all day at it.”
“I apologize for my cousin,” Frodo said. “He can really sometimes be quite sensible.”
Eomer was moving around the room gathering up towels and a fresh nightshirt. Frodo began to carefully ease himself from the bed but as he swung his legs out a thought struck him. He looked down at the nightshirt where it clung slightly to the rounding of his belly. Did Eomer know? Had Aragorn told him? He ran a hand over his distended stomach. What would Eomer say? Would he be horrified, revolted even to find out what an unnatural creature he had taken to his bed and sworn love to? Frodo found his hand shook and tears were welling up behind his eyes, as they seemed to do all too frequently nowadays. Whatever, this baby was Frodo’s; conceived in desperate times but out of love---and he would protect and love it with all he had in him.
“Beloved?” Eomer’s low voice drew Frodo back to the present. He looked up into the compassionate eyes of his lover.
“There is something I need to tell you,” Frodo spoke. As he did so he moved to strip the nightshirt from over his head and then took one of Eomer’s large warm hands to rest over his belly. As though by some signal, the child chose that as its first time to move beneath the skin as though in greeting to its sire.
Frodo watched a startled look chase over Eomer’s face, followed by wonder as he looked up at Frodo.
“Aragorn told me you were . . . ” And then Frodo watched bright disbelieving joy spread over his lover’s face. “Our child?” he asked with awe in his voice.
Frodo could not speak, only nod.
Eomer laughed. Frodo had never heard him laugh and it was a delightful sound.
“You do not mind?” Frodo asked at last.
“Mind?” Eomer seemed not to understand the question.
“It is not… usual .. . for male hobbits to bear children.”
“Frodo, I would beg upon bended knee for you to make Rohan your home. To stay with me for all the time we have left on Middle-earth. You have given me more joy than I ever thought to look for in life. If you will allow, I should ask to court you.”
“To court me?” Frodo giggled a little. “How very formal you are after what we have already done.”
Was it his imagination or was Eomer blushing a little?
“Frodo, we have certain precedents that we follow in Rohan. Courtship does not usually involve…that is…”
“Eomer, how old are you?” Frodo asked.
“Twenty-eight,” Eomer replied. “And I have never…I never loved anyone - never thought I could love anyone - the way I love you, Frodo Baggins.”
Frodo put his hand over his mouth, not sure if he should be shocked or amused. “I am fifty,” he said at last. “And I too have never loved the way I love you, my Eomer of Rohan. And I should be honored to come to the Golden Hall of your people.”
Eomer took Frodo in his arms and kissed his lips with tender warmth. Frodo clasped his arms about Eomer’s neck and clung on as he was suddenly lifted upwards and carried, laughing, to his waiting bath.
tbc