Midst of Death 11
Warning: 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!
Summary: The Ring has been destroyed and the wounded are being taken back to Gondor. On the way a pregnant Frodo is reunited with the father of his unborn child, Eomer of Rohan.
Thanks to Lily for the beta.
Eomer sat by Frodo’s cot during the night, watching the hobbit’s face for any signs of discomfort. Aragorn came by on occasion and Eomer found his respect and admiration growing for the quiet man who was now their High King. He reminded Eomer of Théoden at the height of his strength and vitality.
Eomer was himself still feeling the uneasy weight of kingship upon his shoulders. He had not expected this. Theodred had always been such a vital force, with a passion for life that seemed impossible to extinguish. It had been such a shock to him and Eowyn when Theodred had died. The three of them had grown up together, taken lessons together, and played truant together.
For a time Eomer had thought he was also to lose Eowyn. That battlefield scene was still like a nightmare to him; finding his sister lying as though dead amidst the carnage of battle. He did not know how he would have survived that blow. Eowyn had always been the one constant in his life---his to tease, to teach, and to protect. He longed now to get back to the city to see how she fared. He had sent a message ahead of course reassuring her that he was alive, but he longed to see her in person, to introduce her to Frodo.
Eomer smiled then. How would Eowyn take to his news? She had often teased him about his blushes when the girls of Rohan had flirted with him; how would she now take being presented with her brother’s lover and unborn heir? Eomer knew she would be delighted and would love Frodo at once, for who could not? No, he feared more the teasing he was in for. He must warn Frodo about his sister.
Frodo stirred a little on his pillow and moved his head restlessly, dark brow furrowed. Eomer reached out and soothed Frodo’s forehead with a cool cloth. Frodo whimpered and extended one hand from beneath the covers, which Eomer took into his own. He held the small hand, smoothing his thumb over the back of it before bending over to drop a kiss onto the palm.
He had never felt such a fierce protective love for anyone other than Eowyn, and with Frodo this feeling was strengthened by the admiration one could hardly admit to having for a snotty-nosed sister. And he felt a strong desire for the beautiful body of his diminutive lover---who was not so diminutive in his passion. Eomer felt his body tingle as he thought of the strength in those slender but demanding arms. The heat of Frodo’s kisses. The tightness of Frodo’s body and the glory of feeling it yield around him.
Eomer bent over again and carefully pushed his face into Frodo’s curls, inhaling their scent. It was a hunger, this love and desire for Frodo. He wished the hobbit would wake up so they could talk, so that Eomer could look into those blue eyes and ensure himself that his love was well. He wanted to be able to take Frodo up in his arms and hold him so close that nothing from the outside world would be able to reach them. He would never let anything hurt Frodo again. He would be the surmounting treasure of Rohan.
That was, if Frodo agreed to return to Rohan with Eomer and be his consort. The possibility of Frodo saying no was unthinkable. To do anything other than spend the rest of his life with Frodo was impossible. Mayhap other hobbits could be persuaded to make their home in the Mark as well. From their talks together Eomer knew that hobbits had a lot in common with the Rohirrim: a love of simple things, food and family and hearth, a love of the land. Hobbits were as passionate about growing things as the men of the Mark were about their horses. Both lived close to the earth and in harmony with it.
Frodo sighed a little in his sleep, but it was an untroubled sigh and Eomer kissed his forehead, wishing him pleasant dreams.
A soft noise from outside made Eomer raise his head. The flap of the tent was drawn aside and Aragorn stepped inside. Motioning Eomer to keep his seat, the other man came forward. “How fares Frodo?” he asked softly.
“Sleeping peacefully,” Eomer replied.
“If you wish to stretch your legs I would sit with Frodo for a while.”
Eomer inclined his head. He did not want to leave but he really should make a round of the camp and take Firefoot a treat.
Once alone Aragorn took Eomer’s vacated chair. Even as he seated himself Frodo stirred a little and blue eyes opened, blinking in the muted lamp light.
“Hello,” Frodo yawned.
“Hello,” Aragorn replied. “I am sorry if I woke you.”
“No, I don’t think you did. Was Eomer here?”
“He went for a breath of air.” Aragorn reached out and rested his hand for a moment on Frodo’s forehead. “How does your neck feel?”
Frodo pulled an eloquent face.
“And your head?” Aragorn smiled.
“Still aching, but better,” Frodo admitted. “Is there some water I might have?”
Aragorn carefully shifted pillows around to prop Frodo up a little and then moved to pour him some water. Frodo hesitated for a moment and Aragorn laughed. “Just water, my friend.”
Frodo looked chagrined but he sipped at the water and then lay back. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate you looking after me,” he said. “It’s just that I have always been rather independent and I hate people fussing. Bilbo used to love it. Whenever he caught a cold he used to make a huge production of it and send out for every herb and concoction he could think of. He would have Sam and me running around all over the smial for him fetching things.”
“I do understand,” Aragorn said and reached out to tilt Frodo’s head up so that he could look into the blue eyes. “But you have not only yourself to consider now, Frodo. You must let people take care of you for a while and you must tell us if you are in pain or if you need anything, for the sake of the babe if not for yourself. You must take care and not over exert yourself. I know you too well and I know how you keep things to yourself but this can no longer be.” The ranger sounded quite stern and Frodo flushed a little but Aragorn held his gaze. “Have I your word on this, Master Hobbit?”
“Yes,” Frodo agreed.
“That if you need anything you will ask and not wait until someone else notices how ill you are?”
“Yes,” Frodo agreed again.
Aragorn smiled once more. “Very well. Then I have a treat for you. I was going to save it until the morning, but if I do all the hobbits in the camp will know about it and there will be none left.”
“What is it?” Frodo asked curiously, peeking round as Aragorn drew something from a pocket beneath his coat.
“Actually, Gandalf found them. Don’t ask me where from but I think they may have been growing under his hat all this time.” And with a flourish Aragorn opened his hand and presented Frodo with a handful of small white objects.
“Mushrooms!” Frodo cried in wonder. “Bless Gandalf.” He reached out and plucked up one of the fungi. He rolled it between his palms for a moment and then sniffed it, closing his eyes in rapture. “When was the last time we had mushrooms?”
“Lorien,” Aragorn replied.
Smiling in pleasure Frodo popped the mushroom between his lips and bit into it. “Oh, this makes up for every potion you have made me swallow over the last few days.”
Aragorn chuckled. “I am glad to hear you say that, my friend, for I have here a few crushed leaves I need you to take.”
“You rogue!” Frodo giggled but he was too pleased with his treat to be cross.
*****
The next morning Aragorn and Eomer rode alongside the wagon, which now contained all four of the hobbits. Sam and Merry sat up with the driver whilst Frodo and Pippin lay in a nest of blankets and pillows. A canopy had been rigged up to protect them from the sunshine, which was bright and warm.
Frodo’s neck had been bathed again with athelas water and already it was looking a lot better with the contagion drained out. Frodo himself still had a slight fever. Both kings kept close eyes on the hobbits’ transport. Aragorn was not happy with having to travel like this, but he was even less happy at the thought of Frodo spending longer in the field. The sooner they could get to Gondor and get both hobbits settled, the better.
They made frequent stops and each time Aragorn checked on both his charges. Pippin had been dosed up and slept most of the day and Aragorn was glad to see the brave lad free of pain. Frodo was another matter. He was still finding it difficult to keep his promise to Aragorn. Not only that but he was not always too clear about the passing of time. He was obviously uncomfortable and it grieved Aragorn that he could not do more for him. He could not risk another healing sleep so close to the first one, or any more medication than was strictly necessary.
Each time they halted Aragorn bathed the wound on Frodo’s neck and was glad to feel the heat had left it and any drainage was now clear. He also pressed a little food and drink upon the hobbit, but as the day wore on Frodo increasingly turned his head away from the cup.
The day was a weary long one and all were glad when it came to an end and they could camp for the night. Frodo cheered up somewhat - especially when his bathing barrel was produced. He had already made Gimli bluster and blush with his profuse thanks. Given the chance Frodo would have spent all night in the half-barrel. He was nodding and half asleep when Eomer lifted him out and dried him gently before dressing him in a clean shirt and tucking him into bed.
Frodo reached out from under the covers to squeeze his love’s fingers. “What would I do with out you?” he asked. “You and Sam and Aragorn take such good care of me.”
Eomer kissed his forehead, “It will be my honor to devote my life to taking good care of you.”
“I love you so,” Frodo whispered drowsily.
***
The next few days of travel were difficult for all, but they reached the bay at last and faced the boats that were prepared to take them to the city. It was Sam, sitting up next to Frodo on the wagon, who first spotted the tall masts. “My goodness,” he said. “If my gaffer could see this.”
Frodo squeezed Sam’s hand, knowing how his loyal friend felt about boats. He must admit he felt a little nervous himself about boarding one of the craft. He had never seen boats so large; large enough that just one could carry many men and even horses, too. He had never got used to the movement of the wagon, finding it still made him feel sick. He did not see how ships would be any better.
Somehow, the last few days of travel to the river had passed by; Frodo drifted in and out of consciousness with the moments of lucidity becoming longer and longer as the journey continued. But he still felt wretched. He longed to arrive at Gondor just so they could settle down for a while in one place. Not since Lorien had they stayed in one place for more than a few nights and he was longing for a real bed and a real bath with a passion. Not to mention proper food.
He was not sure what Gondor would be like, as the city had been under siege for so long, but Aragorn had spoken of its beauty and Boromir had loved his home and spoken of it often. How pleased the warrior would have been to see the Fellowship heading to Gondor at last; the city that in his lifetime had never been at peace. Would they hear the trumpets or had the white towers been smashed?
Frodo’s musings had taken them to the bay where wagons were being unloaded. Frodo watched as the tall warriors of the Rohirrim led on board ship their proud horses. The animals were obviously not happy with mounting the gang planks but, each guided by a rider, went anyway, showing the bond between man and animal.
Frodo felt a little like that himself, wanting to shy away from going on board but knowing Eomer would be there for him. At least the reaching of the river meant their journey was almost over. Just this last obstacle to overcome and then Gondor would be within their sights.
“Frodo?” Frodo realized that Eomer had appeared by his side while he contemplated the scene before him. “The king suggested we get you settled on board as soon as we can. A ship has been prepared for you and the other hobbits with a cabin especially for you all.”
“Won’t you be traveling with us?” Frodo could not keep the dismay from his voice but Eomer smiled.
“Yes, I will see you settled then come aboard later.” The young man leant in closer and lowered his voice. “To be honest I have no liking for these boats. I would rather ride the long way round but the king says this way will be easier for the wounded.”
Frodo smiled. “I promise to hold your hand.” He reached out now and took the offered hand, lowering himself to the steps from the wagon. Sam scrambled out beside Frodo and stood stretching himself and watching Frodo’s descent warily. Indeed it was a bit difficult to maneuver with the bulk of his belly combined with already feeling unsteady. Frodo was grateful when Eomer reached up and easily lowered Frodo to the ground.
The stone slabs felt strange to Frodo’s tender feet. He stumbled, feeling dizzy, but both Eomer and Sam were there to hold him up. Sam also looked to be a little uncertain upon his feet. Standing between the two Frodo managed to limp a few steps. When his overly sensitive feet trod on a rock, which normally he would not have even noticed, he winced.
Eomer bent down. “I am sorry, Frodo. I know how you hate to be carried but I think it would be for the best. There is too much activity here and your feet are still injured. Let me carry you just this once more.”
Frodo sighed ruefully and let himself be picked up.
“Anyway,” Eomer whispered, “carrying you allows me to …,” and he dropped one hand to cup and squeeze Frodo’s backside, making the hobbit squirm and giggle. “I have missed being able to do this.”
Sam, who had been steadier than Frodo the last few days, still limped as he followed the tall man and his master to the ship. He paused by the edge of the harbor.
“Sam, will you wait here, please, and direct the others to the ship when they arrive?” Eomer asked. “I will get Frodo settled and then come back.”
Sam nodded in relief at being able to delay his boarding and sat down on a low wooden stump to which ropes were tied.
“Thank you,” Frodo whispered, causing Eomer to inadvertently shiver as warm breath blew against his neck. Before Frodo had time to really notice the dark strip of water beneath them he had been carried across it in a few strides of the man’s long legs and found himself presented with a whole new world.
Everything was very tidy upon the wooden deck of the boat. Masts, rope and cloth rose above them in a complicated pattern. Crates and barrels were stacked neatly to either side, lashed down in place, and the deck contained a little wooden house with windows in it, toward which Eomer now carried Frodo. He balanced Frodo on one hip as he opened the door to the cabin with one hand and ducked his head to walk in. Once through the door Eomer straightened, his head perilously close to the ceiling.
Frodo looked around in pleasure at the neatly set out room before him. A table and chair stood in the middle of the space, which boasted cabinets along the wall. But most attractive were a row of little box-like beds attached to the bulkhead, each made up with clean sheets, a soft looking pillow and blankets---and each the perfect size for a hobbit.
Frodo actually laughed in delight as Eomer carried him over to one of the beds and set him down. “It could be a hobbit house,” Frodo exclaimed. “All comforts to hand. A bookshelf in the corner and I could happily live here.”
“I may not know what a bookshelf is but if it pleases you then we shall have many of them in Rohan.” Eomer reluctantly untangled his arms from around Frodo. Frodo reached up and grabbed one of Eomer’s braids, tugging slightly until the man leant back down so he could capture the full lips and kiss them.
“You are too good to me,” Frodo said.
“Not true,” Eomer replied, kissing back, his body telling him what a good idea it was to hold Frodo close. A small tongue came out to lick across his lower lip and Eomer’s mouth opened to devour Frodo’s. In a moment both of them were breathless but Eomer pulled back. “You would have me climbing in the bed with you.” His voice had gone husky.
“Where will you sleep?” Frodo looked around puzzled. “You could not get into one of these beds.”
“Oh, trust me, my lusty hobbit, I can get into some tight places when properly motivated.” Their eyes met and things might have progressed further but Frodo reminded him of Sam still waiting outside. “I will show you my bed later,” Eomer said. “Don’t worry. I shall not be far away.”
Frodo lay back, feeling the sway of the ship beneath him and hearing the creaking of wood and rope. It was an odd sensation and he reached out to run his hands down the wooden sides of the bed to ground himself. He could hear the sound of bootsteps on deck and the calls of men and seabirds, but it felt somehow peaceful and distant lying here as though he were many leagues from land. He liked the little shut-in wooden bed and snuggled back into it, pulling the covers up over his belly. Sunshine reflecting off the water and through his window made patterns on the ceiling and he watched them, allowing his mind to drift.
He patted his stomach gently and found himself humming an old song he could barely remember, with lyrics about a boat with silver sails navigated by a star and following the pathway of the moon. He closed his eyes for just a moment to appreciate the new sensations and let the sounds and motion lull him away. He then remembered a dream he had had long ago in Tom Bombadil’s house - a white shore and beyond them a far green country under a swift sunrise
***
Frodo slept more deeply than he had since the healing sleep. It was far into the night before he woke to feel the rocking of the boat beneath him. A full moon shone into the cabin, bright and cool, and it fell upon the sleeping faces of Sam and Pippin in their respective beds. Sam was snoring gently and Frodo smiled a little. He remembered Sam protesting once that he would never get any sleep while on the road. They had slept in some strange places since then, pleasant or otherwise.
In the center of the room had been slung a curving rope bed, the name for which Frodo could not remember. He knew river hobbits used them. In this one Eomer sprawled, looking boneless in slumber, his long hair hanging to one side. Frodo thought of Eomer as a creature of sunlight and the moon made him look different; younger in sleep and nobler in the silver light. Like a statue he was, beautiful and proud, and so very dearly loved.
Lulled by his pleasant thoughts and by the motion of the ship, Frodo soon fell back to sleep.
tbc
Summary: The Ring has been destroyed and the wounded are being taken back to Gondor. On the way a pregnant Frodo is reunited with the father of his unborn child, Eomer of Rohan.
Thanks to Lily for the beta.
Eomer sat by Frodo’s cot during the night, watching the hobbit’s face for any signs of discomfort. Aragorn came by on occasion and Eomer found his respect and admiration growing for the quiet man who was now their High King. He reminded Eomer of Théoden at the height of his strength and vitality.
Eomer was himself still feeling the uneasy weight of kingship upon his shoulders. He had not expected this. Theodred had always been such a vital force, with a passion for life that seemed impossible to extinguish. It had been such a shock to him and Eowyn when Theodred had died. The three of them had grown up together, taken lessons together, and played truant together.
For a time Eomer had thought he was also to lose Eowyn. That battlefield scene was still like a nightmare to him; finding his sister lying as though dead amidst the carnage of battle. He did not know how he would have survived that blow. Eowyn had always been the one constant in his life---his to tease, to teach, and to protect. He longed now to get back to the city to see how she fared. He had sent a message ahead of course reassuring her that he was alive, but he longed to see her in person, to introduce her to Frodo.
Eomer smiled then. How would Eowyn take to his news? She had often teased him about his blushes when the girls of Rohan had flirted with him; how would she now take being presented with her brother’s lover and unborn heir? Eomer knew she would be delighted and would love Frodo at once, for who could not? No, he feared more the teasing he was in for. He must warn Frodo about his sister.
Frodo stirred a little on his pillow and moved his head restlessly, dark brow furrowed. Eomer reached out and soothed Frodo’s forehead with a cool cloth. Frodo whimpered and extended one hand from beneath the covers, which Eomer took into his own. He held the small hand, smoothing his thumb over the back of it before bending over to drop a kiss onto the palm.
He had never felt such a fierce protective love for anyone other than Eowyn, and with Frodo this feeling was strengthened by the admiration one could hardly admit to having for a snotty-nosed sister. And he felt a strong desire for the beautiful body of his diminutive lover---who was not so diminutive in his passion. Eomer felt his body tingle as he thought of the strength in those slender but demanding arms. The heat of Frodo’s kisses. The tightness of Frodo’s body and the glory of feeling it yield around him.
Eomer bent over again and carefully pushed his face into Frodo’s curls, inhaling their scent. It was a hunger, this love and desire for Frodo. He wished the hobbit would wake up so they could talk, so that Eomer could look into those blue eyes and ensure himself that his love was well. He wanted to be able to take Frodo up in his arms and hold him so close that nothing from the outside world would be able to reach them. He would never let anything hurt Frodo again. He would be the surmounting treasure of Rohan.
That was, if Frodo agreed to return to Rohan with Eomer and be his consort. The possibility of Frodo saying no was unthinkable. To do anything other than spend the rest of his life with Frodo was impossible. Mayhap other hobbits could be persuaded to make their home in the Mark as well. From their talks together Eomer knew that hobbits had a lot in common with the Rohirrim: a love of simple things, food and family and hearth, a love of the land. Hobbits were as passionate about growing things as the men of the Mark were about their horses. Both lived close to the earth and in harmony with it.
Frodo sighed a little in his sleep, but it was an untroubled sigh and Eomer kissed his forehead, wishing him pleasant dreams.
A soft noise from outside made Eomer raise his head. The flap of the tent was drawn aside and Aragorn stepped inside. Motioning Eomer to keep his seat, the other man came forward. “How fares Frodo?” he asked softly.
“Sleeping peacefully,” Eomer replied.
“If you wish to stretch your legs I would sit with Frodo for a while.”
Eomer inclined his head. He did not want to leave but he really should make a round of the camp and take Firefoot a treat.
Once alone Aragorn took Eomer’s vacated chair. Even as he seated himself Frodo stirred a little and blue eyes opened, blinking in the muted lamp light.
“Hello,” Frodo yawned.
“Hello,” Aragorn replied. “I am sorry if I woke you.”
“No, I don’t think you did. Was Eomer here?”
“He went for a breath of air.” Aragorn reached out and rested his hand for a moment on Frodo’s forehead. “How does your neck feel?”
Frodo pulled an eloquent face.
“And your head?” Aragorn smiled.
“Still aching, but better,” Frodo admitted. “Is there some water I might have?”
Aragorn carefully shifted pillows around to prop Frodo up a little and then moved to pour him some water. Frodo hesitated for a moment and Aragorn laughed. “Just water, my friend.”
Frodo looked chagrined but he sipped at the water and then lay back. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate you looking after me,” he said. “It’s just that I have always been rather independent and I hate people fussing. Bilbo used to love it. Whenever he caught a cold he used to make a huge production of it and send out for every herb and concoction he could think of. He would have Sam and me running around all over the smial for him fetching things.”
“I do understand,” Aragorn said and reached out to tilt Frodo’s head up so that he could look into the blue eyes. “But you have not only yourself to consider now, Frodo. You must let people take care of you for a while and you must tell us if you are in pain or if you need anything, for the sake of the babe if not for yourself. You must take care and not over exert yourself. I know you too well and I know how you keep things to yourself but this can no longer be.” The ranger sounded quite stern and Frodo flushed a little but Aragorn held his gaze. “Have I your word on this, Master Hobbit?”
“Yes,” Frodo agreed.
“That if you need anything you will ask and not wait until someone else notices how ill you are?”
“Yes,” Frodo agreed again.
Aragorn smiled once more. “Very well. Then I have a treat for you. I was going to save it until the morning, but if I do all the hobbits in the camp will know about it and there will be none left.”
“What is it?” Frodo asked curiously, peeking round as Aragorn drew something from a pocket beneath his coat.
“Actually, Gandalf found them. Don’t ask me where from but I think they may have been growing under his hat all this time.” And with a flourish Aragorn opened his hand and presented Frodo with a handful of small white objects.
“Mushrooms!” Frodo cried in wonder. “Bless Gandalf.” He reached out and plucked up one of the fungi. He rolled it between his palms for a moment and then sniffed it, closing his eyes in rapture. “When was the last time we had mushrooms?”
“Lorien,” Aragorn replied.
Smiling in pleasure Frodo popped the mushroom between his lips and bit into it. “Oh, this makes up for every potion you have made me swallow over the last few days.”
Aragorn chuckled. “I am glad to hear you say that, my friend, for I have here a few crushed leaves I need you to take.”
“You rogue!” Frodo giggled but he was too pleased with his treat to be cross.
*****
The next morning Aragorn and Eomer rode alongside the wagon, which now contained all four of the hobbits. Sam and Merry sat up with the driver whilst Frodo and Pippin lay in a nest of blankets and pillows. A canopy had been rigged up to protect them from the sunshine, which was bright and warm.
Frodo’s neck had been bathed again with athelas water and already it was looking a lot better with the contagion drained out. Frodo himself still had a slight fever. Both kings kept close eyes on the hobbits’ transport. Aragorn was not happy with having to travel like this, but he was even less happy at the thought of Frodo spending longer in the field. The sooner they could get to Gondor and get both hobbits settled, the better.
They made frequent stops and each time Aragorn checked on both his charges. Pippin had been dosed up and slept most of the day and Aragorn was glad to see the brave lad free of pain. Frodo was another matter. He was still finding it difficult to keep his promise to Aragorn. Not only that but he was not always too clear about the passing of time. He was obviously uncomfortable and it grieved Aragorn that he could not do more for him. He could not risk another healing sleep so close to the first one, or any more medication than was strictly necessary.
Each time they halted Aragorn bathed the wound on Frodo’s neck and was glad to feel the heat had left it and any drainage was now clear. He also pressed a little food and drink upon the hobbit, but as the day wore on Frodo increasingly turned his head away from the cup.
The day was a weary long one and all were glad when it came to an end and they could camp for the night. Frodo cheered up somewhat - especially when his bathing barrel was produced. He had already made Gimli bluster and blush with his profuse thanks. Given the chance Frodo would have spent all night in the half-barrel. He was nodding and half asleep when Eomer lifted him out and dried him gently before dressing him in a clean shirt and tucking him into bed.
Frodo reached out from under the covers to squeeze his love’s fingers. “What would I do with out you?” he asked. “You and Sam and Aragorn take such good care of me.”
Eomer kissed his forehead, “It will be my honor to devote my life to taking good care of you.”
“I love you so,” Frodo whispered drowsily.
***
The next few days of travel were difficult for all, but they reached the bay at last and faced the boats that were prepared to take them to the city. It was Sam, sitting up next to Frodo on the wagon, who first spotted the tall masts. “My goodness,” he said. “If my gaffer could see this.”
Frodo squeezed Sam’s hand, knowing how his loyal friend felt about boats. He must admit he felt a little nervous himself about boarding one of the craft. He had never seen boats so large; large enough that just one could carry many men and even horses, too. He had never got used to the movement of the wagon, finding it still made him feel sick. He did not see how ships would be any better.
Somehow, the last few days of travel to the river had passed by; Frodo drifted in and out of consciousness with the moments of lucidity becoming longer and longer as the journey continued. But he still felt wretched. He longed to arrive at Gondor just so they could settle down for a while in one place. Not since Lorien had they stayed in one place for more than a few nights and he was longing for a real bed and a real bath with a passion. Not to mention proper food.
He was not sure what Gondor would be like, as the city had been under siege for so long, but Aragorn had spoken of its beauty and Boromir had loved his home and spoken of it often. How pleased the warrior would have been to see the Fellowship heading to Gondor at last; the city that in his lifetime had never been at peace. Would they hear the trumpets or had the white towers been smashed?
Frodo’s musings had taken them to the bay where wagons were being unloaded. Frodo watched as the tall warriors of the Rohirrim led on board ship their proud horses. The animals were obviously not happy with mounting the gang planks but, each guided by a rider, went anyway, showing the bond between man and animal.
Frodo felt a little like that himself, wanting to shy away from going on board but knowing Eomer would be there for him. At least the reaching of the river meant their journey was almost over. Just this last obstacle to overcome and then Gondor would be within their sights.
“Frodo?” Frodo realized that Eomer had appeared by his side while he contemplated the scene before him. “The king suggested we get you settled on board as soon as we can. A ship has been prepared for you and the other hobbits with a cabin especially for you all.”
“Won’t you be traveling with us?” Frodo could not keep the dismay from his voice but Eomer smiled.
“Yes, I will see you settled then come aboard later.” The young man leant in closer and lowered his voice. “To be honest I have no liking for these boats. I would rather ride the long way round but the king says this way will be easier for the wounded.”
Frodo smiled. “I promise to hold your hand.” He reached out now and took the offered hand, lowering himself to the steps from the wagon. Sam scrambled out beside Frodo and stood stretching himself and watching Frodo’s descent warily. Indeed it was a bit difficult to maneuver with the bulk of his belly combined with already feeling unsteady. Frodo was grateful when Eomer reached up and easily lowered Frodo to the ground.
The stone slabs felt strange to Frodo’s tender feet. He stumbled, feeling dizzy, but both Eomer and Sam were there to hold him up. Sam also looked to be a little uncertain upon his feet. Standing between the two Frodo managed to limp a few steps. When his overly sensitive feet trod on a rock, which normally he would not have even noticed, he winced.
Eomer bent down. “I am sorry, Frodo. I know how you hate to be carried but I think it would be for the best. There is too much activity here and your feet are still injured. Let me carry you just this once more.”
Frodo sighed ruefully and let himself be picked up.
“Anyway,” Eomer whispered, “carrying you allows me to …,” and he dropped one hand to cup and squeeze Frodo’s backside, making the hobbit squirm and giggle. “I have missed being able to do this.”
Sam, who had been steadier than Frodo the last few days, still limped as he followed the tall man and his master to the ship. He paused by the edge of the harbor.
“Sam, will you wait here, please, and direct the others to the ship when they arrive?” Eomer asked. “I will get Frodo settled and then come back.”
Sam nodded in relief at being able to delay his boarding and sat down on a low wooden stump to which ropes were tied.
“Thank you,” Frodo whispered, causing Eomer to inadvertently shiver as warm breath blew against his neck. Before Frodo had time to really notice the dark strip of water beneath them he had been carried across it in a few strides of the man’s long legs and found himself presented with a whole new world.
Everything was very tidy upon the wooden deck of the boat. Masts, rope and cloth rose above them in a complicated pattern. Crates and barrels were stacked neatly to either side, lashed down in place, and the deck contained a little wooden house with windows in it, toward which Eomer now carried Frodo. He balanced Frodo on one hip as he opened the door to the cabin with one hand and ducked his head to walk in. Once through the door Eomer straightened, his head perilously close to the ceiling.
Frodo looked around in pleasure at the neatly set out room before him. A table and chair stood in the middle of the space, which boasted cabinets along the wall. But most attractive were a row of little box-like beds attached to the bulkhead, each made up with clean sheets, a soft looking pillow and blankets---and each the perfect size for a hobbit.
Frodo actually laughed in delight as Eomer carried him over to one of the beds and set him down. “It could be a hobbit house,” Frodo exclaimed. “All comforts to hand. A bookshelf in the corner and I could happily live here.”
“I may not know what a bookshelf is but if it pleases you then we shall have many of them in Rohan.” Eomer reluctantly untangled his arms from around Frodo. Frodo reached up and grabbed one of Eomer’s braids, tugging slightly until the man leant back down so he could capture the full lips and kiss them.
“You are too good to me,” Frodo said.
“Not true,” Eomer replied, kissing back, his body telling him what a good idea it was to hold Frodo close. A small tongue came out to lick across his lower lip and Eomer’s mouth opened to devour Frodo’s. In a moment both of them were breathless but Eomer pulled back. “You would have me climbing in the bed with you.” His voice had gone husky.
“Where will you sleep?” Frodo looked around puzzled. “You could not get into one of these beds.”
“Oh, trust me, my lusty hobbit, I can get into some tight places when properly motivated.” Their eyes met and things might have progressed further but Frodo reminded him of Sam still waiting outside. “I will show you my bed later,” Eomer said. “Don’t worry. I shall not be far away.”
Frodo lay back, feeling the sway of the ship beneath him and hearing the creaking of wood and rope. It was an odd sensation and he reached out to run his hands down the wooden sides of the bed to ground himself. He could hear the sound of bootsteps on deck and the calls of men and seabirds, but it felt somehow peaceful and distant lying here as though he were many leagues from land. He liked the little shut-in wooden bed and snuggled back into it, pulling the covers up over his belly. Sunshine reflecting off the water and through his window made patterns on the ceiling and he watched them, allowing his mind to drift.
He patted his stomach gently and found himself humming an old song he could barely remember, with lyrics about a boat with silver sails navigated by a star and following the pathway of the moon. He closed his eyes for just a moment to appreciate the new sensations and let the sounds and motion lull him away. He then remembered a dream he had had long ago in Tom Bombadil’s house - a white shore and beyond them a far green country under a swift sunrise
***
Frodo slept more deeply than he had since the healing sleep. It was far into the night before he woke to feel the rocking of the boat beneath him. A full moon shone into the cabin, bright and cool, and it fell upon the sleeping faces of Sam and Pippin in their respective beds. Sam was snoring gently and Frodo smiled a little. He remembered Sam protesting once that he would never get any sleep while on the road. They had slept in some strange places since then, pleasant or otherwise.
In the center of the room had been slung a curving rope bed, the name for which Frodo could not remember. He knew river hobbits used them. In this one Eomer sprawled, looking boneless in slumber, his long hair hanging to one side. Frodo thought of Eomer as a creature of sunlight and the moon made him look different; younger in sleep and nobler in the silver light. Like a statue he was, beautiful and proud, and so very dearly loved.
Lulled by his pleasant thoughts and by the motion of the ship, Frodo soon fell back to sleep.
tbc