In the Midst of Death part 16/?
In the Midst of Death part 16/?
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. Whilst camping overnight at Osgiliath Frodo has an accident.
Beta by Lily.
In the Midst of Death part 16/?
Frodo drank down the willow bark tea and followed it with ginger. He was going to have to get up very soon to use the chamber pot at this rate. He yawned mightily round the final cup as Eomer held it for him.
“What was in that?” he asked.
“No sedative, Aragorn said,” replied Eomer. “It is the shock that is making you so sleepy. Your body wants you to sleep and recover.”
“Will you stay near me, dearest?” Frodo asked. “I don’t think I can keep awake much longer but I am afraid of sleepwalking again.”
Eomer caressed the tip of one ear. “I will watch over you. Mithrandir will not be far and I believe Aragorn is posting a guard upon this tent.”
Frodo yawned again. “I’m sorry to be so much trouble.”
Eomer hushed him and lowered him back onto his pillows. “Shush. Close your eyes now. I am here. Your friends are near. All is well.”
Eomer gently soothed Frodo’s forehead as he crooned in a soft voice to his hobbit. Frodo fought to stay awake but the need for sleep overwhelmed him and it dragged him down into oblivion, with Eomer’s presence a warming blanket around him.
It seemed Frodo had hardly shut his eyes when he was being roused to wakefulness by a voice softly calling his name and a touch to his cheek. He wanted very much for whoever was disturbing him to leave and he mumbled and frowned, turning his head away. Sam knew he liked a lie in in the morning. The touch followed him, recalling him to full wakefulness.
“Good morning,” Aragorn greeted him.
“Call this morning?” Frodo griped. The tent still seemed to be dark, lit only by one small lantern. He could hear soft snoring. He went to pull the blankets back over his head but Aragorn gently but firmly pulled them away again.
“Frodo, I need to check your eyes.”
“They are blue.” Frodo restrained himself from adding; ‘Now go away, you foolish man.’
Aragorn cupped Frodo’s chin. “It seems apparent to me that you are fine. If you can just tell me how many fingers I am holding up?”
Frodo squinted for a moment before pronouncing, “Two.”
“Very good. Now tell me how you are feeling and you can go back to sleep again.”
“Tired,” Frodo said.
“Any nausea or cramping?”
Frodo let out his breath in a sigh. “No cramping, but I do feel a little sick. I suppose that means more ginger tea?”
“You are quite correct, my friend. In fact I have it here ready for you.”
“I thought you might.” Frodo tried to push himself up but that sent his head spinning, or rather, the tent seemed to spin around him. He felt himself going pale but Aragorn was there to support him until the feeling subsided and he could take a few swallows of the tea. He had to admit the weak, warm tea did feel good as it went down his throat. Water was offered next and he swallowed that too before he was allowed to lie down and rest again. He fell back to sleep almost at once.
This routine seemed to occur far too often to Frodo; sometimes it was Eomer who woke him, and once Gandalf. When Aragorn tended him Frodo was sure he could feel hands moving over his body, touching at wrist and neck before pulling the blankets down to check his belly. He shivered when this was done and found it difficult to get warm again afterward. Voices nearby seemed to be talking about the proximity of the river making things cooler, but then he was covered with an extra blanket and he soon slipped off to sleep again.
When he woke the next time it was of his own volition and an urgent matter calling itself to his attention. Eomer sat nearby but otherwise the tent was empty. Frodo looked around. It was light outside though the tent flap was securely closed. He squirmed a little and the movement attracted Eomer’s attention. Frodo tried to sit up and throw back the blankets but he felt weak and shaky.
“Good morning, love,” Eomer said. “Can I get you anything?”
Frodo looked around. “Well, I … um... I need to use the chamber pot.”
Eomer smiled in understanding. “I have one here.”
Frodo held out his hand for it but Eomer set it beside the cot as he came to help Frodo sit up. Frodo had to admit he was glad for the support, as his head didn’t seem quite too sure about which way was up. He swung his legs over the side of the cot and sat up, leaning against Eomer. In this position his need became even more insistent.
“Thank you, I can manage,” Frodo said.
Eomer grinned in what Frodo thought was a remarkably dishonorable manner. He picked up the pot and held it ready. Frodo just looked from pot to man.
“I can manage myself,” he repeated rather primly when Eomer showed no signs of leaving.
“Aragorn thinks not. I am under very strict instructions which I dare not disobey.”
“You can’t watch me!” Frodo protested and then pouted as Eomer, still grinning, pointedly tilted his head upward and looked at the crossed tent poles.
“I can’t go with you watching,” Frodo huffed. The man was actually smirking!
“Just point in the right direction and let nature take its course,” said Eomer unsympathetically. “It’s not like I have not seen it before.”
Frodo felt himself blushing and cursed his fair and expressive skin, which too often betrayed his emotions. Nature was indeed getting rather insistent about taking its course. Soon he would have no choice and that would be even more embarrassing. He gave in to the inevitable and tried to relax; the dreadful noise his stream made hitting the pan did not help and Frodo blushed even more.
By the time he came to the end with a little sign of relief the pan was shaking slightly, echoing the chuckles Eomer was trying to suppress. Frodo finished and dropped his nightshirt. Eomer put the pan away and offered a damp towel for Frodo to wipe his hands with, then he guided the hobbit back to bed.
“Dreadful man!” Frodo scolded, but Eomer’s deep chuckle was so incongruous, coming from such a large and usually fierce-looking man, that he couldn’t suppress the twitch of his own lips.
“Just in time.” Eomer tucked Frodo back in bed, smoothed the covers and fluffed the pillows so that the hobbit could sit up. “I believe I heard breakfast on its way.” He moved to the tent flap. “From what little I could hear above all the noise you were making.”
Frodo launched a pillow at Eomer with a hobbit’s deadly accuracy, but with the skill of a warrior Eomer sidestepped at the last moment, so it was Aragorn who caught the pillow as he opened the tent flap for Sam to step in with a breakfast tray.
“I said no strenuous activity,” the king scolded.
Sam kept his head down as he moved to his master’s side.
“Good morning, Sam,” Frodo greeted.
Sam looked up and smiled. “You look a sight better this morning,” he said. “I left the others at the cook tent so you could have breakfast in peace.”
“Thank you, Sam.” Frodo felt almost a bit hungry this morning and looked over the tray Sam had brought. There was a cup of tea and another of water, some sliced fruit and bread and some creamy-looking porridge with a dollop of golden honey in the center.
“It’s not really a proper breakfast but we’ve been used to doing without those for a while now,” Sam said as he fussed about arranging a napkin and finding a spoon for his master.
“We have indeed,” Frodo said. “Will I have time to eat before we go back onto the ships?” he asked Aragorn.
“We will not be boarding the ships yet. It has been decided to remain here for another day,” Aragorn replied.
Frodo paused while reaching for the mug of water. “Not because of me?” he asked, looking horrified. “Am I holding everyone up?”
Aragorn held up a hand. “Nay, Frodo, do not think that way; although it is necessary that you rest all of today there are others who need a day’s rest too. And the horses do not like the boats.”
“Sensible creatures,” Sam remarked.
“Indeed,” Frodo said, eyeing Eomer. “They are discerning beasts indeed, which is even more remarkable considering the great uncouth brutes they have for masters.”
Eomer bowed with a flourish and Aragorn looked on puzzled. Shaking his head, he came to the side of Frodo’s cot. “Are you in any pain this morning?”
“I still have a headache,” Frodo admitted, sipping the delightful, cool, clear water. He would never get enough of water now he that knew what it was like to be without. “Also, my stomach feels a bit funny.” Frodo met Aragorn’s eyes. “My baby is going to be all right?”
“With care, good food and lots of rest all should be well,” Aragorn reassured. “Tell me, the cramping feelings you were experiencing last night; had you felt anything like that before?”
Frodo thought back. “Well, before we went onboard ship there was something... but I thought it was just wind.”
Aragorn smiled gently. “That is perfectly normal. It could have been indigestion, but you could also be feeling some cramping as the uterus increases in size to accommodate your baby and the muscles stretch. You had no bleeding so there is no cause for worry.”
Eomer had moved around to sit on the foot of the bed. He rested his hands upon Frodo’s feet and began to rub them in gentle reassurance. Frodo smiled gratefully at his lover, forgiving him---almost---for his earlier behaviour.
Perhaps he could get used to being so pampered, Frodo thought, as he tucked into his breakfast.
tbc
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. Whilst camping overnight at Osgiliath Frodo has an accident.
Beta by Lily.
In the Midst of Death part 16/?
Frodo drank down the willow bark tea and followed it with ginger. He was going to have to get up very soon to use the chamber pot at this rate. He yawned mightily round the final cup as Eomer held it for him.
“What was in that?” he asked.
“No sedative, Aragorn said,” replied Eomer. “It is the shock that is making you so sleepy. Your body wants you to sleep and recover.”
“Will you stay near me, dearest?” Frodo asked. “I don’t think I can keep awake much longer but I am afraid of sleepwalking again.”
Eomer caressed the tip of one ear. “I will watch over you. Mithrandir will not be far and I believe Aragorn is posting a guard upon this tent.”
Frodo yawned again. “I’m sorry to be so much trouble.”
Eomer hushed him and lowered him back onto his pillows. “Shush. Close your eyes now. I am here. Your friends are near. All is well.”
Eomer gently soothed Frodo’s forehead as he crooned in a soft voice to his hobbit. Frodo fought to stay awake but the need for sleep overwhelmed him and it dragged him down into oblivion, with Eomer’s presence a warming blanket around him.
It seemed Frodo had hardly shut his eyes when he was being roused to wakefulness by a voice softly calling his name and a touch to his cheek. He wanted very much for whoever was disturbing him to leave and he mumbled and frowned, turning his head away. Sam knew he liked a lie in in the morning. The touch followed him, recalling him to full wakefulness.
“Good morning,” Aragorn greeted him.
“Call this morning?” Frodo griped. The tent still seemed to be dark, lit only by one small lantern. He could hear soft snoring. He went to pull the blankets back over his head but Aragorn gently but firmly pulled them away again.
“Frodo, I need to check your eyes.”
“They are blue.” Frodo restrained himself from adding; ‘Now go away, you foolish man.’
Aragorn cupped Frodo’s chin. “It seems apparent to me that you are fine. If you can just tell me how many fingers I am holding up?”
Frodo squinted for a moment before pronouncing, “Two.”
“Very good. Now tell me how you are feeling and you can go back to sleep again.”
“Tired,” Frodo said.
“Any nausea or cramping?”
Frodo let out his breath in a sigh. “No cramping, but I do feel a little sick. I suppose that means more ginger tea?”
“You are quite correct, my friend. In fact I have it here ready for you.”
“I thought you might.” Frodo tried to push himself up but that sent his head spinning, or rather, the tent seemed to spin around him. He felt himself going pale but Aragorn was there to support him until the feeling subsided and he could take a few swallows of the tea. He had to admit the weak, warm tea did feel good as it went down his throat. Water was offered next and he swallowed that too before he was allowed to lie down and rest again. He fell back to sleep almost at once.
This routine seemed to occur far too often to Frodo; sometimes it was Eomer who woke him, and once Gandalf. When Aragorn tended him Frodo was sure he could feel hands moving over his body, touching at wrist and neck before pulling the blankets down to check his belly. He shivered when this was done and found it difficult to get warm again afterward. Voices nearby seemed to be talking about the proximity of the river making things cooler, but then he was covered with an extra blanket and he soon slipped off to sleep again.
When he woke the next time it was of his own volition and an urgent matter calling itself to his attention. Eomer sat nearby but otherwise the tent was empty. Frodo looked around. It was light outside though the tent flap was securely closed. He squirmed a little and the movement attracted Eomer’s attention. Frodo tried to sit up and throw back the blankets but he felt weak and shaky.
“Good morning, love,” Eomer said. “Can I get you anything?”
Frodo looked around. “Well, I … um... I need to use the chamber pot.”
Eomer smiled in understanding. “I have one here.”
Frodo held out his hand for it but Eomer set it beside the cot as he came to help Frodo sit up. Frodo had to admit he was glad for the support, as his head didn’t seem quite too sure about which way was up. He swung his legs over the side of the cot and sat up, leaning against Eomer. In this position his need became even more insistent.
“Thank you, I can manage,” Frodo said.
Eomer grinned in what Frodo thought was a remarkably dishonorable manner. He picked up the pot and held it ready. Frodo just looked from pot to man.
“I can manage myself,” he repeated rather primly when Eomer showed no signs of leaving.
“Aragorn thinks not. I am under very strict instructions which I dare not disobey.”
“You can’t watch me!” Frodo protested and then pouted as Eomer, still grinning, pointedly tilted his head upward and looked at the crossed tent poles.
“I can’t go with you watching,” Frodo huffed. The man was actually smirking!
“Just point in the right direction and let nature take its course,” said Eomer unsympathetically. “It’s not like I have not seen it before.”
Frodo felt himself blushing and cursed his fair and expressive skin, which too often betrayed his emotions. Nature was indeed getting rather insistent about taking its course. Soon he would have no choice and that would be even more embarrassing. He gave in to the inevitable and tried to relax; the dreadful noise his stream made hitting the pan did not help and Frodo blushed even more.
By the time he came to the end with a little sign of relief the pan was shaking slightly, echoing the chuckles Eomer was trying to suppress. Frodo finished and dropped his nightshirt. Eomer put the pan away and offered a damp towel for Frodo to wipe his hands with, then he guided the hobbit back to bed.
“Dreadful man!” Frodo scolded, but Eomer’s deep chuckle was so incongruous, coming from such a large and usually fierce-looking man, that he couldn’t suppress the twitch of his own lips.
“Just in time.” Eomer tucked Frodo back in bed, smoothed the covers and fluffed the pillows so that the hobbit could sit up. “I believe I heard breakfast on its way.” He moved to the tent flap. “From what little I could hear above all the noise you were making.”
Frodo launched a pillow at Eomer with a hobbit’s deadly accuracy, but with the skill of a warrior Eomer sidestepped at the last moment, so it was Aragorn who caught the pillow as he opened the tent flap for Sam to step in with a breakfast tray.
“I said no strenuous activity,” the king scolded.
Sam kept his head down as he moved to his master’s side.
“Good morning, Sam,” Frodo greeted.
Sam looked up and smiled. “You look a sight better this morning,” he said. “I left the others at the cook tent so you could have breakfast in peace.”
“Thank you, Sam.” Frodo felt almost a bit hungry this morning and looked over the tray Sam had brought. There was a cup of tea and another of water, some sliced fruit and bread and some creamy-looking porridge with a dollop of golden honey in the center.
“It’s not really a proper breakfast but we’ve been used to doing without those for a while now,” Sam said as he fussed about arranging a napkin and finding a spoon for his master.
“We have indeed,” Frodo said. “Will I have time to eat before we go back onto the ships?” he asked Aragorn.
“We will not be boarding the ships yet. It has been decided to remain here for another day,” Aragorn replied.
Frodo paused while reaching for the mug of water. “Not because of me?” he asked, looking horrified. “Am I holding everyone up?”
Aragorn held up a hand. “Nay, Frodo, do not think that way; although it is necessary that you rest all of today there are others who need a day’s rest too. And the horses do not like the boats.”
“Sensible creatures,” Sam remarked.
“Indeed,” Frodo said, eyeing Eomer. “They are discerning beasts indeed, which is even more remarkable considering the great uncouth brutes they have for masters.”
Eomer bowed with a flourish and Aragorn looked on puzzled. Shaking his head, he came to the side of Frodo’s cot. “Are you in any pain this morning?”
“I still have a headache,” Frodo admitted, sipping the delightful, cool, clear water. He would never get enough of water now he that knew what it was like to be without. “Also, my stomach feels a bit funny.” Frodo met Aragorn’s eyes. “My baby is going to be all right?”
“With care, good food and lots of rest all should be well,” Aragorn reassured. “Tell me, the cramping feelings you were experiencing last night; had you felt anything like that before?”
Frodo thought back. “Well, before we went onboard ship there was something... but I thought it was just wind.”
Aragorn smiled gently. “That is perfectly normal. It could have been indigestion, but you could also be feeling some cramping as the uterus increases in size to accommodate your baby and the muscles stretch. You had no bleeding so there is no cause for worry.”
Eomer had moved around to sit on the foot of the bed. He rested his hands upon Frodo’s feet and began to rub them in gentle reassurance. Frodo smiled gratefully at his lover, forgiving him---almost---for his earlier behaviour.
Perhaps he could get used to being so pampered, Frodo thought, as he tucked into his breakfast.
tbc