NEW STORY - Pregnant hobbit examination behind the cut
WARNING WARNING WARNING WARNING
A couple of days ago I offered up my story writing skills - HAR HAR - to anyone who would care to make a donation to Cancer Research - site link in previouse entre. Of course I had not really though this through when I offered to write what ever any one wanted.
Behind the cut is the story written for Lilybaggins - this of course means pregnant hobbit gets intimant medical exam from a certain Ranger - you know the drill. It was actually a lot more fun to write that I thought it might have been. Maybe she has infected me with her preferences J
Big thank you to Lily for donating and I really hope I have given you something to enjoy.
Angie
For Lilybaggins
Frodo sat on the comfortable chair by the hearthside waiting for Aragorn. He had never been in this particular room in the Houses of Healing and looked round curiously now.
There was a strange sort of couch at one end of the room which looked more suited to the dungeons of Mordor than to a healer’s room. He wondered what it’s purpose was but was sure he did not wish to know. Maybe it was used to restrain men for amputations but he did not want to think of that. The War was over now.
There was also a long table set out with all sorts of instruments at one end of which sat a steaming bowl of water and a stack of fresh towels. An apprentice healer had just brought in those supplies and she had curtsied to Frodo and said that the King would not be long.
Frodo had spent a moment longer looking at the instruments with a kind of morbid fascination. There was a rolled leather holder with a selection of wickedly sharp looking knives. There was a temperature stick - which he remembered from Rivendell with a shudder. There were tweezers and things which looked like the tongs Bilbo used for turning bacon; several pairs of scissors of varying sizes and a most peculiar hollow tubular item with a wide split down both sides which could be widened by a little wheel. He was glad none of them were going to be used on him.
Now Frodo contented himself with looking into the fire and pondering his current position. He had so many examinations by now he was getting quite used to them. He had rather hoped to escape the Houses of Healing after the Coronation but then there had been the incident at the banquet after which lead to Frodo’s current… condition.
The Coronation banquet had been such a joy filled affair that Frodo had taken just a little too much wine. He was so happy to see his cousins alive and well; Gandalf restored to live; and Aragorn radiant in his happiness to have his beautiful elven wife by his side. He had got a little tipsy and then tripped and fallen, to be caught in the strong arms of one of the tall horselords of Rohan; in fact The Horselord of Rohan - Eomer King. Eomer had insisted on escorting Frodo to a quiet room to lie down for a moment and Frodo, in a sudden rush of desire from being held in the strong arms had gone along.
He had awoken the next morning with a pounding headache and, as he discovered later, the beginnings of new life within his body. Since then he had had several more examinations, all under the careful supervision of the new King of Gondor. His general health had been checked, his stomach had been carefully felt and he had been told to exercise and eat well.
“Good morning, Frodo.” Aragorn came through the door looking business like. “How are you this morning?”
“Fine,” Frodo smiled at his friend. Aragorn looked so different now-a-days, cleaner for one thing. He looked every inch the regal King he had been born to be.
“I am glad to hear it my friend.” The man moved to the table and proceeded to wash his hands in the warm water. “I am sorry to have kept you waiting.”
“I am glad you still have time to see me,” Frodo replied, looking across the room as Aragorn went to stand by the strange couch. Frodo made no move to get up from the comfortable chair where all the exams had been conducted in the past.
Aragorn almost seemed a little distracted and the two smiled at each other across the room for a moment until the man seemed to recall himself. “I am sorry Frodo. Let me help you up onto the couch.”
Frodo looked a little puzzled. “I am quite comfortable here. Do I need to lie down?”
“I think it is time for us to take our examinations a little further.” Aragorn picked up a blanket and walked back to Frodo’s side. “Today I wish to begin to look more closely at your birth canal.”
“My what!” Frodo almost squeaked in alarm.
Aragorn cleared his throat. “It is nothing to worry about,” he said. “It is all quite perfectly normal; for your situation. Male hobbits have been known to give birth before. I know it is not considered to be quite respectable which is why most of them come to Bree for their confinements. I have dealt with a few cases before myself.”
Frodo still looked sceptical.
“Come now Frodo,” Aragorn knelt by Frodo’s chair. “Do you not trust me my friend?”
“Of course I do,” Frodo felt ashamed.
“Then if you would take off your clothes and cover yourself with this blanket we will begin.”
Frodo held the blanket tightly around himself as he sat on the side of the examination couch. The couch was padded and quite comfortable, but a little too high off the ground for a hobbit to feel quite secure. The couch was all the way across the other side of the room from the fire and there was a decided draft coming from somewhere. Frodo looked longingly back at the chair as he fidgeted with his blanket.
“If you would just lie down,” Aragorn had a guiding hand on Frodo’s shoulder and Frodo kept hold of his blanket as he was pushed back to lie on the couch. Aragorn swung Frodo’s feet round. “Comfortable?”
“Yes, thank you,” replied Frodo wondering what was coming next. Aragorn really should have removed the apparatus from the bottom of the couch. It was quite off putting to have the inverted stirrups sticking up like that. Frodo had a horrible imagining of some one being trapped in them whilst having their legs amputated. He knew such things happened in war, must have happened in the War of the Ring; men crushed by their horses or wounds turned septic. He just did not want to be presented with evidence of such events. It was really a bit thoughtless of Aragorn to be using this couch for Frodo.
“If you would just slide down a bit further and spread your legs.” Aragorn took hold of Frodo’s ankles to help guide him.
“What!” Frodo spluttered. “I thought you just wanted me to lie down?”
“I do,” Aragorn smiled reassuringly and stroked the top of Frodo’s foot. “I am going to be looking inside your body today.” He moved his hands, slid them beneath Frodo’s back and moved the hobbit further down the couch and nearer to the stirrups. “If you would spread your legs wide and I will lift them into the stirrups.”
“What! Oh no you don’t!” Frodo back peddled furiously. “You’re not… you can’t!” Frodo was almost beside himself with what it had suddenly dawned upon him Aragorn was proposing. He felt a blush building up around his neck, quickly spread over his face and up to his ears which turned bright red with suffused heat. This could not be happening! He had a horrible picture of himself strung up in those stirrups like some chicken hanging in a butchers shop - all naked and exposed, its legs trussed up round its body and it’s innards in a neat little bag inside.
He fleetingly realised he was becoming hysterical. And also that his wild scrabbling was about to propel him off the other end of the couch.
“Frodo. Relax,” Aragorn ordered.
“Keep away from me!” Frodo demanded. “I’m not a chicken.”
Aragorn looked puzzled. “I know you are not. You are very brave Frodo. But you are also undeniably pregnant and we have to do what is best for you and your child.”
“Best..?” Frodo fluttered a hand in the direction of the stirrups. “Define ‘Best’.”
Aragorn sighed. “Really Frodo, women do this every day. There is nothing to worry about. I will not hurt you.”
Frodo did not point out that at that moment he considered embarrassment was rather likely to kill him.
Aragorn turned away and moved to a small cupboard mounted on the wall. When he returned he had a little amber coloured bottle in his hand. He unscrewed the lid and carefully filled the dropper thus revealed. “Frodo, I want you to take this on the back of your tongue. Do not swallow, just let it dissolve in your mouth.”
“What is it?” Frodo demanded.
“It is a tincture of rock rose, cherry plum and clematis. It will sooth you a little and then we can discuss this.”
“It won’t put me to sleep?”
“I promise you it will not.”
Still eyeing Aragorn suspiciously Frodo opened his mouth and allowed a few drops from the dispenser to be put onto the back of his tongue.
Aragorn set the little bottle aside and then took Frodo’s hands in his and began to rub them. “My dear friend, I am not trying to hurt or harm you. It is not even my intention to cause you discomfort of any sort. What I propose is a medical procedure which is carried out upon anyone who is pregnant. I have only your health and the health of your child in mind. But I do need to see that all is well, and that will involve looking at both the outward and the inward signs of progress.”
Frodo was still blushing furiously but he no longer felt quite such an urgent need to flee the room. He tried to steady his breathing and he reached out with one hand to stroke the swell of his belly beneath the blanket.
“I am sorry Aragorn. I know I am being silly.”
“That too is nothing to apologise for. It is a perfectly natural part of the changes your body is going through.” Aragorn squeezed the hand he still held. “Now, Frodo, will you let me do my job?”
Frodo nodded. He let Aragorn guide him down the table, trying not to look at the sinister attachments, until he lay with his bottom right at the end of the couch. He lay back once more and let Aragorn guide one leg up and into place. It did feel most peculiar. Then Aragorn took hold of his other ankle. “Try to relax. Spread you legs widely.”
Frodo took a deep breath, willing himself to relax and Aragorn pulled up his other leg and set it into the stirrups. Oh my goodness! Frodo felt himself spread open a widely as possible. He had not fully considered the implications of this. The blanket fell away from his legs leaving him utterly exposed, legs spread wide, and his nether regions, private places, and genitalia on full view to all and sundry.
Aragorns’ large hands were under his bottom lifting him up and pulling out the blanket.
“No!” Frodo yelped, trying to struggle and fining himself very effectively pinned down.
“It’s alright,” Aragorn rearranged the blanket so it covered Frodo from the waste up but it seemed to the hobbit like a ridiculous sop to his violated dignity. Never in his whole life had he felt so humiliated. Aragorn would be able to see everything! Oh my goodness! He was considered well endowed for a hobbit - but to a man he must look ridiculously small. Frodo was sure his balls must be attempting to crawl back up inside his body with sheer humiliation.
Aragorn seemed oblivious to the mortification of the hobbit on the examining table. In fact the man had almost disappeared from sight as he peered at Frodo’s spread out nether regions.
I am going to die, Frodo thought, I am going to make medical history by expiring of utter humiliation upon this examining couch and then Aragorn will be sorry. Saviour of middle-earth killed by Ranger King. Frodo of the nine fingers becomes Frodo of the spread chicken legs.
Frodo buried his face in his hands and groaned.
“Are you in pain?” Aragorn’s head popped up from between Frodo’s legs.
“Get. On. With. It. ” Frodo ground out.
Aragorn conducted the usual procedures Frodo had been expecting, feeling his belly and palpitating it. He then had a few moments silence and Frodo could feel himself growing hotter with shame as the King was obviously satisfying his curiosity about Frodo’s male and female parts. Only a lover had ever touched Frodo like this before and this clinical examination was utterly demeaning. Frodo had always been a little shy about his female equipment but now he just wished the floor would open up and swallow him and the roof fall on him for good measure.
“Just relax,” Aragorn said moving round to the table and reaching for an instrument. Frodo just had to look. He just had to! Aragorn reached out, his hand hovered for a moment over the dreadful looking cylinder of metal with the tiny wheel, and then moved on. He picked up a small jar and unscrewed the lid to check the content. Satisfied he rubbed some of the white cream onto his hands and then went back and picked up the cylinder and began coating that too!
Frodo’s eyes nearly fell out of his head. Had he been capable of doing so he would be half way back to the Shire by now and would not stop running until the door of Bag End had been slammed safely shut behind his back, locked and a chair jammed under the door knob. For good measure he would then go and hide in the root cellar.
Why oh why had he let Eomer ever touch him!
Aragorn had returned to his position between Frodo’s legs and was peering intensely at the openings to Frodo’s body. Frodo shut his eyes. He could feel fingers prodding gently at the entrance to his body. Then a hand took hold of his penis and carefully moved it to one side. Fingers probed deeper and Frodo knew that Aragorn was examining his birth canal. He could feel fingers pushing up inside his body.
“This may feel a little strange,” Aragorn warned. Frodo refrained from pointing out they had gone past strange some time ago.
Something larger was probing at the entrance. Something decidedly cold and unyielding.
“Ow!” Frodo yelped and tried to curl up and away, all his muscles tensing at the painful invasion.
“I am sorry,” Aragorn reached out to stroke the swell of Frodo’s belly. “Take a deep breath, and another!”
“I can’t,” foolishly Frodo knew he was on the verge of tears. He had thought the humiliation bad enough but the cylinder of metal poking into his body also hurt. His muscles were clamping down, trying to deny it entrance and every movement was painful.
Aragorn sighed and Frodo felt the instrument being removed. His body seemed to collapse in on itself.
Aragorn came round to the Frodo’s head. His grey eyes were fully of sympathy and concern and he looked down at the flushed and panting hobbit.
“Frodo, I know this is uncomfortable...”
“How?” Frodo interrupted. “How do you know? Have you ever had a metal tube shoved up your birth passage? No. Do you even have a birth passage? I don’t think so. So do not tell me you know anything.” And with that Frodo burst into tears of pain, frustration and humiliation. In a moment he was being held in strong arms and he buried his face in Aragorn’s shoulder.
“I am sorry. I should not presume,” Aragorn said after Frodo had calmed a little. “Would you prefer if I had one of the females healers attend you?”
Frodo’s tears began to slow. He felt dreadful for his treatment of his friend. “No, I would - that is if you do not mind - I would like you to continue to care for me.”
“I do,” Aragorn kissed Frodo’s forehead. “I care very much for you my friend.”
“I will try,” Frodo sniffed. He let Aragorn wipe the tears from his face and took a few sips of water. Then he mustered all his resolve and took several deep-steadying breaths.
This time the instrument slid in with less pain. It was still uncomfortable. It felt even stranger when Aragorn turned the little wheel and Frodo could feel the instrument expanding inside his body. Aragorn kept up a running commentary on what he was doing but Frodo blotted most of it out. He looked up at the ceiling and set himself to count the number of carved roses there. After what seemed an age it was at last over and the instrument removed with an embarrassing slurping pop.
“There is just one last thing,” said Aragorn. “Have you noticed some discharge from your rectum?”
Frodo felt himself blushing all over again. He was so hoping Aragorn would not notice that. “I have had a little… itching.. down there.”
“It some times happens. Just hold on another moment.”
Resignedly Frodo sighed. Maybe he could count the petals on the roses. His eyes popped open though and he craned his head up as he felt the distinctive touch of a finger on his rectum, pushing inwards. It did feel sore, like a burning sensation.
“You have a slight infection,” Aragorns voice came from between Frodo’s legs. “I am just putting a little cream on it. You can do this yourself, twice a day, for a week, and it should clear up.”
Frodo let his head fall back. Was there really to be no end to this?
Some time later he was sitting carefully once again in the comfortable chair, all his clothing nearly fastened and intact around him. He was still having trouble meeting Aragorns’ eyes.
“All is well,” said the healer. “You are showing very healthy progression into your pregnancy.”
Frodo signed with relief. It as over and some how he had survived.
“I am very pleased with you Frodo,” Aragorn said. “Let us hope you continue to make such good progress.”
Frodo managed a little smile. After that examination child birth itself was going to be a piece of cake.
Aragorn smiled in return. “No doubt you want to get out of here, “ He said. “I will escort you to your room.” Aragorn stood up and Frodo followed. “And we won’t have to have another of these exams for at least a two week.”
End
A couple of days ago I offered up my story writing skills - HAR HAR - to anyone who would care to make a donation to Cancer Research - site link in previouse entre. Of course I had not really though this through when I offered to write what ever any one wanted.
Behind the cut is the story written for Lilybaggins - this of course means pregnant hobbit gets intimant medical exam from a certain Ranger - you know the drill. It was actually a lot more fun to write that I thought it might have been. Maybe she has infected me with her preferences J
Big thank you to Lily for donating and I really hope I have given you something to enjoy.
Angie
For Lilybaggins
Frodo sat on the comfortable chair by the hearthside waiting for Aragorn. He had never been in this particular room in the Houses of Healing and looked round curiously now.
There was a strange sort of couch at one end of the room which looked more suited to the dungeons of Mordor than to a healer’s room. He wondered what it’s purpose was but was sure he did not wish to know. Maybe it was used to restrain men for amputations but he did not want to think of that. The War was over now.
There was also a long table set out with all sorts of instruments at one end of which sat a steaming bowl of water and a stack of fresh towels. An apprentice healer had just brought in those supplies and she had curtsied to Frodo and said that the King would not be long.
Frodo had spent a moment longer looking at the instruments with a kind of morbid fascination. There was a rolled leather holder with a selection of wickedly sharp looking knives. There was a temperature stick - which he remembered from Rivendell with a shudder. There were tweezers and things which looked like the tongs Bilbo used for turning bacon; several pairs of scissors of varying sizes and a most peculiar hollow tubular item with a wide split down both sides which could be widened by a little wheel. He was glad none of them were going to be used on him.
Now Frodo contented himself with looking into the fire and pondering his current position. He had so many examinations by now he was getting quite used to them. He had rather hoped to escape the Houses of Healing after the Coronation but then there had been the incident at the banquet after which lead to Frodo’s current… condition.
The Coronation banquet had been such a joy filled affair that Frodo had taken just a little too much wine. He was so happy to see his cousins alive and well; Gandalf restored to live; and Aragorn radiant in his happiness to have his beautiful elven wife by his side. He had got a little tipsy and then tripped and fallen, to be caught in the strong arms of one of the tall horselords of Rohan; in fact The Horselord of Rohan - Eomer King. Eomer had insisted on escorting Frodo to a quiet room to lie down for a moment and Frodo, in a sudden rush of desire from being held in the strong arms had gone along.
He had awoken the next morning with a pounding headache and, as he discovered later, the beginnings of new life within his body. Since then he had had several more examinations, all under the careful supervision of the new King of Gondor. His general health had been checked, his stomach had been carefully felt and he had been told to exercise and eat well.
“Good morning, Frodo.” Aragorn came through the door looking business like. “How are you this morning?”
“Fine,” Frodo smiled at his friend. Aragorn looked so different now-a-days, cleaner for one thing. He looked every inch the regal King he had been born to be.
“I am glad to hear it my friend.” The man moved to the table and proceeded to wash his hands in the warm water. “I am sorry to have kept you waiting.”
“I am glad you still have time to see me,” Frodo replied, looking across the room as Aragorn went to stand by the strange couch. Frodo made no move to get up from the comfortable chair where all the exams had been conducted in the past.
Aragorn almost seemed a little distracted and the two smiled at each other across the room for a moment until the man seemed to recall himself. “I am sorry Frodo. Let me help you up onto the couch.”
Frodo looked a little puzzled. “I am quite comfortable here. Do I need to lie down?”
“I think it is time for us to take our examinations a little further.” Aragorn picked up a blanket and walked back to Frodo’s side. “Today I wish to begin to look more closely at your birth canal.”
“My what!” Frodo almost squeaked in alarm.
Aragorn cleared his throat. “It is nothing to worry about,” he said. “It is all quite perfectly normal; for your situation. Male hobbits have been known to give birth before. I know it is not considered to be quite respectable which is why most of them come to Bree for their confinements. I have dealt with a few cases before myself.”
Frodo still looked sceptical.
“Come now Frodo,” Aragorn knelt by Frodo’s chair. “Do you not trust me my friend?”
“Of course I do,” Frodo felt ashamed.
“Then if you would take off your clothes and cover yourself with this blanket we will begin.”
Frodo held the blanket tightly around himself as he sat on the side of the examination couch. The couch was padded and quite comfortable, but a little too high off the ground for a hobbit to feel quite secure. The couch was all the way across the other side of the room from the fire and there was a decided draft coming from somewhere. Frodo looked longingly back at the chair as he fidgeted with his blanket.
“If you would just lie down,” Aragorn had a guiding hand on Frodo’s shoulder and Frodo kept hold of his blanket as he was pushed back to lie on the couch. Aragorn swung Frodo’s feet round. “Comfortable?”
“Yes, thank you,” replied Frodo wondering what was coming next. Aragorn really should have removed the apparatus from the bottom of the couch. It was quite off putting to have the inverted stirrups sticking up like that. Frodo had a horrible imagining of some one being trapped in them whilst having their legs amputated. He knew such things happened in war, must have happened in the War of the Ring; men crushed by their horses or wounds turned septic. He just did not want to be presented with evidence of such events. It was really a bit thoughtless of Aragorn to be using this couch for Frodo.
“If you would just slide down a bit further and spread your legs.” Aragorn took hold of Frodo’s ankles to help guide him.
“What!” Frodo spluttered. “I thought you just wanted me to lie down?”
“I do,” Aragorn smiled reassuringly and stroked the top of Frodo’s foot. “I am going to be looking inside your body today.” He moved his hands, slid them beneath Frodo’s back and moved the hobbit further down the couch and nearer to the stirrups. “If you would spread your legs wide and I will lift them into the stirrups.”
“What! Oh no you don’t!” Frodo back peddled furiously. “You’re not… you can’t!” Frodo was almost beside himself with what it had suddenly dawned upon him Aragorn was proposing. He felt a blush building up around his neck, quickly spread over his face and up to his ears which turned bright red with suffused heat. This could not be happening! He had a horrible picture of himself strung up in those stirrups like some chicken hanging in a butchers shop - all naked and exposed, its legs trussed up round its body and it’s innards in a neat little bag inside.
He fleetingly realised he was becoming hysterical. And also that his wild scrabbling was about to propel him off the other end of the couch.
“Frodo. Relax,” Aragorn ordered.
“Keep away from me!” Frodo demanded. “I’m not a chicken.”
Aragorn looked puzzled. “I know you are not. You are very brave Frodo. But you are also undeniably pregnant and we have to do what is best for you and your child.”
“Best..?” Frodo fluttered a hand in the direction of the stirrups. “Define ‘Best’.”
Aragorn sighed. “Really Frodo, women do this every day. There is nothing to worry about. I will not hurt you.”
Frodo did not point out that at that moment he considered embarrassment was rather likely to kill him.
Aragorn turned away and moved to a small cupboard mounted on the wall. When he returned he had a little amber coloured bottle in his hand. He unscrewed the lid and carefully filled the dropper thus revealed. “Frodo, I want you to take this on the back of your tongue. Do not swallow, just let it dissolve in your mouth.”
“What is it?” Frodo demanded.
“It is a tincture of rock rose, cherry plum and clematis. It will sooth you a little and then we can discuss this.”
“It won’t put me to sleep?”
“I promise you it will not.”
Still eyeing Aragorn suspiciously Frodo opened his mouth and allowed a few drops from the dispenser to be put onto the back of his tongue.
Aragorn set the little bottle aside and then took Frodo’s hands in his and began to rub them. “My dear friend, I am not trying to hurt or harm you. It is not even my intention to cause you discomfort of any sort. What I propose is a medical procedure which is carried out upon anyone who is pregnant. I have only your health and the health of your child in mind. But I do need to see that all is well, and that will involve looking at both the outward and the inward signs of progress.”
Frodo was still blushing furiously but he no longer felt quite such an urgent need to flee the room. He tried to steady his breathing and he reached out with one hand to stroke the swell of his belly beneath the blanket.
“I am sorry Aragorn. I know I am being silly.”
“That too is nothing to apologise for. It is a perfectly natural part of the changes your body is going through.” Aragorn squeezed the hand he still held. “Now, Frodo, will you let me do my job?”
Frodo nodded. He let Aragorn guide him down the table, trying not to look at the sinister attachments, until he lay with his bottom right at the end of the couch. He lay back once more and let Aragorn guide one leg up and into place. It did feel most peculiar. Then Aragorn took hold of his other ankle. “Try to relax. Spread you legs widely.”
Frodo took a deep breath, willing himself to relax and Aragorn pulled up his other leg and set it into the stirrups. Oh my goodness! Frodo felt himself spread open a widely as possible. He had not fully considered the implications of this. The blanket fell away from his legs leaving him utterly exposed, legs spread wide, and his nether regions, private places, and genitalia on full view to all and sundry.
Aragorns’ large hands were under his bottom lifting him up and pulling out the blanket.
“No!” Frodo yelped, trying to struggle and fining himself very effectively pinned down.
“It’s alright,” Aragorn rearranged the blanket so it covered Frodo from the waste up but it seemed to the hobbit like a ridiculous sop to his violated dignity. Never in his whole life had he felt so humiliated. Aragorn would be able to see everything! Oh my goodness! He was considered well endowed for a hobbit - but to a man he must look ridiculously small. Frodo was sure his balls must be attempting to crawl back up inside his body with sheer humiliation.
Aragorn seemed oblivious to the mortification of the hobbit on the examining table. In fact the man had almost disappeared from sight as he peered at Frodo’s spread out nether regions.
I am going to die, Frodo thought, I am going to make medical history by expiring of utter humiliation upon this examining couch and then Aragorn will be sorry. Saviour of middle-earth killed by Ranger King. Frodo of the nine fingers becomes Frodo of the spread chicken legs.
Frodo buried his face in his hands and groaned.
“Are you in pain?” Aragorn’s head popped up from between Frodo’s legs.
“Get. On. With. It. ” Frodo ground out.
Aragorn conducted the usual procedures Frodo had been expecting, feeling his belly and palpitating it. He then had a few moments silence and Frodo could feel himself growing hotter with shame as the King was obviously satisfying his curiosity about Frodo’s male and female parts. Only a lover had ever touched Frodo like this before and this clinical examination was utterly demeaning. Frodo had always been a little shy about his female equipment but now he just wished the floor would open up and swallow him and the roof fall on him for good measure.
“Just relax,” Aragorn said moving round to the table and reaching for an instrument. Frodo just had to look. He just had to! Aragorn reached out, his hand hovered for a moment over the dreadful looking cylinder of metal with the tiny wheel, and then moved on. He picked up a small jar and unscrewed the lid to check the content. Satisfied he rubbed some of the white cream onto his hands and then went back and picked up the cylinder and began coating that too!
Frodo’s eyes nearly fell out of his head. Had he been capable of doing so he would be half way back to the Shire by now and would not stop running until the door of Bag End had been slammed safely shut behind his back, locked and a chair jammed under the door knob. For good measure he would then go and hide in the root cellar.
Why oh why had he let Eomer ever touch him!
Aragorn had returned to his position between Frodo’s legs and was peering intensely at the openings to Frodo’s body. Frodo shut his eyes. He could feel fingers prodding gently at the entrance to his body. Then a hand took hold of his penis and carefully moved it to one side. Fingers probed deeper and Frodo knew that Aragorn was examining his birth canal. He could feel fingers pushing up inside his body.
“This may feel a little strange,” Aragorn warned. Frodo refrained from pointing out they had gone past strange some time ago.
Something larger was probing at the entrance. Something decidedly cold and unyielding.
“Ow!” Frodo yelped and tried to curl up and away, all his muscles tensing at the painful invasion.
“I am sorry,” Aragorn reached out to stroke the swell of Frodo’s belly. “Take a deep breath, and another!”
“I can’t,” foolishly Frodo knew he was on the verge of tears. He had thought the humiliation bad enough but the cylinder of metal poking into his body also hurt. His muscles were clamping down, trying to deny it entrance and every movement was painful.
Aragorn sighed and Frodo felt the instrument being removed. His body seemed to collapse in on itself.
Aragorn came round to the Frodo’s head. His grey eyes were fully of sympathy and concern and he looked down at the flushed and panting hobbit.
“Frodo, I know this is uncomfortable...”
“How?” Frodo interrupted. “How do you know? Have you ever had a metal tube shoved up your birth passage? No. Do you even have a birth passage? I don’t think so. So do not tell me you know anything.” And with that Frodo burst into tears of pain, frustration and humiliation. In a moment he was being held in strong arms and he buried his face in Aragorn’s shoulder.
“I am sorry. I should not presume,” Aragorn said after Frodo had calmed a little. “Would you prefer if I had one of the females healers attend you?”
Frodo’s tears began to slow. He felt dreadful for his treatment of his friend. “No, I would - that is if you do not mind - I would like you to continue to care for me.”
“I do,” Aragorn kissed Frodo’s forehead. “I care very much for you my friend.”
“I will try,” Frodo sniffed. He let Aragorn wipe the tears from his face and took a few sips of water. Then he mustered all his resolve and took several deep-steadying breaths.
This time the instrument slid in with less pain. It was still uncomfortable. It felt even stranger when Aragorn turned the little wheel and Frodo could feel the instrument expanding inside his body. Aragorn kept up a running commentary on what he was doing but Frodo blotted most of it out. He looked up at the ceiling and set himself to count the number of carved roses there. After what seemed an age it was at last over and the instrument removed with an embarrassing slurping pop.
“There is just one last thing,” said Aragorn. “Have you noticed some discharge from your rectum?”
Frodo felt himself blushing all over again. He was so hoping Aragorn would not notice that. “I have had a little… itching.. down there.”
“It some times happens. Just hold on another moment.”
Resignedly Frodo sighed. Maybe he could count the petals on the roses. His eyes popped open though and he craned his head up as he felt the distinctive touch of a finger on his rectum, pushing inwards. It did feel sore, like a burning sensation.
“You have a slight infection,” Aragorns voice came from between Frodo’s legs. “I am just putting a little cream on it. You can do this yourself, twice a day, for a week, and it should clear up.”
Frodo let his head fall back. Was there really to be no end to this?
Some time later he was sitting carefully once again in the comfortable chair, all his clothing nearly fastened and intact around him. He was still having trouble meeting Aragorns’ eyes.
“All is well,” said the healer. “You are showing very healthy progression into your pregnancy.”
Frodo signed with relief. It as over and some how he had survived.
“I am very pleased with you Frodo,” Aragorn said. “Let us hope you continue to make such good progress.”
Frodo managed a little smile. After that examination child birth itself was going to be a piece of cake.
Aragorn smiled in return. “No doubt you want to get out of here, “ He said. “I will escort you to your room.” Aragorn stood up and Frodo followed. “And we won’t have to have another of these exams for at least a two week.”
End