The Beta version with extra bits of The Second Exam
The things I let LilyBaggins talk me into.
Mpreg Frodo, embarasment, medical details, exams, embarrassment, naked hobbit bits, did I mention embarrassment.
Betad by Lily.
The War was over and the city was being rebuilt; lives rebuilt; a world rebuilt. The City of Seven Circles was alive with activity, but still people found time to pause and gape and gossip about why on earth the beautiful holbytlan, the Ringbearer, the saviour of them all, Frodo of the Nine Fingers, should be marched up through the city by six of the White Guard. And why on earth six for such a small person, and what had he done?
“Frodo!” Aragorn sat in a chair by the fireplace looking disappointed, and that cut at Frodo sharper than chastisement could have done. “I asked you to visit me ten days ago. Did I really have to send guards to bring you?”
Frodo folded his arms over his ample middle and frowned. “I had things to attend to.”
Aragorn reached out to pour two mugs of tea. “Come and join me, my friend, I have seen too litle of you of late.”
“And too much of me when you did.” Frodo came forward looking as though he were ready to bolt at any moment. He sat on the edge of the opposite chair and reached for a mug. He sniffed it for a moment as though expecting there to be something other than tea in the brew.
“Do you think I would drug you?”
“You had me arrested!”
“You left me little choice.”
Frodo huffed and blew on his tea before sipping it.
“There was a young woman in the village of Combe who came from a well-to-do family. When she found herself with child she hid it from her parents, ashamed. When it came time for her to birth the child she could keep it to herself no longer, but by then it was too late.”
Frodo looked up over his mug. “Too late?”
“She had not seen a healer. The baby tried to come into the world feet irst, it had twisted about so inside her.”
Frodo stared with blue eyes wide.
“I am not telling you this story to frighten you, Frodo. There is no reason why your child should not be born healthy into the world.”
“What happened?”
“The child did not live. The cord that joined him to his mother had wrapped around his neck.”
“How terrible.”
“What was worse was the grief of the mother. She blamed herself, and I blamed myself. If she had sought help sooner. If I had been a better healer. Frodo, will you let me help you?”
Frodo lay back on the couch. There were twenty-three carved roses in the ceiling from left to right.
So here he was again, after promising himself he would not allow this to happen. He was naked, save for a sheet draped over him, and even as he clutched to the comfort of this Aragorn lifted the bottom edge ad folded the sheet back over Frodo’s chest, exposing the hobbit's bare stomach and legs. It was a little chilly in the room and Frodo shivered. Now his legs were once again being lifted up one at a time into those awful stirrups and Frodo felt embarrassment flooding back into his body. Again the feeling of being horribly exposed coursed through him. Really, the little folded strip of sheet over his chest and shoulders was little sop to his dignity.
Aragorn's strong warm hands were resting on Frodo’s thighs. “Would you spread your legs a little more?”
Taking a deep breath, Frodo complied.
“Let your knees drop all the way open." Aragorn’s hands offered gentle encouragement as Frodo obeyed. All his previous discomfort was soon rising up to overwhelm him. Even a small screen around the couch would help rather than this terribly exposed feeling of lying almost naked in a room with his legs wide open. It was also rather uncomfortable; there was only so far knees could spread apart and he thought he had about reached the limit before his hips would start protesting.
Frodo wondered exactly how far he could spread his legs before something gave. He had a horrible vision of splitting a chicken’s wishbone with Merry at family parties and making a wish. There had always been a moment when the bone had resisted before yielding to their tugging fingers and a pulling, splintering sound of bone separating followed. He wondered if he would make such a sound.
The large hands rubbed for a moment as though to be reassurig, but Frodo wondered what reassurance there could be. He had wanted to please his friend. After all Aragorn had done for him he did not want to see him upset. But now he was regretting his ready acquiescence to another examination. He shut his eyes and groaned.
“Frodo, have I hurt you?”
Frodo opened his eyes and craned his head. It really was most off-putting to be addressed by someone whose head was stuck down between your spread-open thighs.
“I am… What is that?” Frodo had become most suspicious of medical equipment and the device Aragorn held up now looked… “Is that a lamp?”
Aragorn sighed. “Frodo, I promised I would explained each procedure to you beforehand. I will be looking into a rather dark area of your body and I need a light.”
“You are going to shine a light up my…. “ Frodo could not continue. He struggled to sit up, to get off the couch, but wth his legs held elevated it was impossible. “Oh no you don’t!”
“Frodo, I thought we were agreed!”
“Not to you shoving a lamp up my…” All of Frodo’s earlier trepidation flooded back, but it was no use, he was as effectively trapped as he had been in Shelob's web - although at least then he had the advantage of his legs being bound securely together and he was unconscious. He fell back; he could not escape. He had been tricked.
“I am just going to look at you on the outside,” Aragorn explained, pulling up a low stool and seating himself upon it. ‘Make yourself comfortable,’ Frodo thought. ‘Roll up roll up - see the chicken-legged hobbit.’ Frodo knew exactly what Aragorn would be seeing. Not all male hobbits were built along the unique lines that Frodo was. Once every generation or so the combination of Took and Fallohide threw out a deviation from the norm. The thought that Aragorn was currently examining his female parts caused Frodo’s ears to heat in embarrassment.
“Can you slide down a little closer to me?” Aragorn asked, reaching out to slide his large hands under Frodo’s naked bottom and pull the hobbit further down the couch until Frodo was sure his bottom must be hanging out into mid air. What if he were to slip further? He had a horrible image of a baby having its nappy changed and that only served to remind him of Aragorn’s proximity to his genitalia. He had been rushed out of his room by the guards and had not had a chance to wash… what if...? Frodo could hardly finish the thought to himself… what if he smelt! Frodo felt himself flushing in painful heat; knowing his face was already bright red with embarrassment he leant up a little and felt his chest also start to suffuse with hot embarrassment. It was too mortifying for words. Why had he not had a bath this morning?
There as a soft touch of fingers, fingers touching parts of his body that only lovers had touched before now.
“Tell me if this is too sensitive."
Frodo thought he would rather die before he said anything. The less he spoke the sooner it would be over with. Fingers stirred the outer folds of his feminine flesh and Frodo could just imagine Aragorn indulging his healer’s curiosity. Frodo then felt large fingers spreading his inner folds, stretching the opening to his body. The fingers felt rather dry and rough and very invasive.
“Everything appears normal,” Aragorn commented. When a finger slid unexpectedly inward Frodo yelped and raised his head again to frown furiously at his assailant.
“I am sorry,” Aragorn apologised. “I did not intend to do that. You have some… seepage... my finger slid. I would have warned you.”
“Seepage!” Frodo echoed in horror. He was not finding ragorn’s touch at all arousing, so why should there be seepage?
“It is perfectly normal for there to be some discharge when pregnant. I am surprised you have not noticed it yourself.”
“I did not go looking for it,” Frodo scowled. There was a decided draft down there---had someone left a door open?
“Seeing as I already have a finger in place I am going to continue with this part of the exam.” Frodo could see Aragorn adjusting the angle of his lamp. “I will use two fingers for this part.”
Frodo felt two fingers slipping into his female passage. If this had been Eomer he would have found it arousing, but then Eomer would have bought him dinner and wine before sticking his well-lubricated fingers up Frodo’s birth passage.
Frodo groaned again silently to himself. How on earth did he manage to get himself into these predicaments?
The fingers seemed to push a long way up inside. He could feel every movement. It did not hurt but it was not terribly comfortable either. Aragorn rested a hand against Frodo’s thigh.
“Now Frodo, I need you to bear down against my fingers as hard as you can. You will be using muscles which will expel the child at the time of the birth and I want to check for weaknesses.”
Frodo wondered if it was at all possible that he could free one of his feet and kick Aragorn over the head with it. He pushed as hard as he could in what he hoped was the right area and after a while of the fingers probing within him Aragorn finally seemed satisfied and withdrew them, much to Frodo’s relief. The soft, wet popping noise that accompanied the withdrawal sent washes of heat over Frodo’s face, but Aragorn made no comment and only proceeded to wipe his hands on a cloth.
“Now, Frodo, I know you do not like this part of the exam.”
‘No!’ Frodo wanted to scream out. ‘No - not again!’ as he looked over and saw Aragorn reach out for and pick up the dreaded tubular device.
“I know you were uncomfortable last time and I blame myself for not properly explaining.” Aragorn came to stand by Frodo’s head. “We call this a speculum.”
‘Get it away from me!’ Frodo screamed to himself, aware that his eyes were very wide and full of horror as he looked at the speculum in the way a rabbit might have looked upon a club poised over its head. Had the device grown since last time? It looked huge.
“Do…do you have to use that…?” Frodo was ashamed of how small and timid his voice sounded.
Aragorn stroked Frodo’s forehead. “My friend, I would not do anything to you with no other aim than to cause you discomfort. This is a necessary part of the exam. I can only imagine how uncomfortable it must feel but you do want to birth a healthy babe do you not?”
Frodo nodded and felt tears prickling the back of his eyes. He did so want to hold his baby in his arms.
“This will widen your birth passage and let me actually look all the way inside you.” Aragorn walked back to the end of the table and sat down again. Frodo heard a sort of slurping noise.
“I am just lubricating the speculum so it will slide in more easily,” Aragorn said helpfully. Frodo felt fingers on the outer walls of his passage, separating the flesh, and then the touch of cold metal. He tried to shrink over the end of the table but his pinioned legs meant he was going nowhere. This was going to happen and there was nothing he could do about it.
“I am sliding it in now.”
‘No, really!’ Frodo thought sarcastically to himself and was startled that his sarcastic voice sounded like Lobelia S-B. He cheered himself for a moment speculating that she must have one through this at least once in her nasty life, if Lotho were any proof. He wondered how she had liked having a device akin to her own dreaded umbrella shoved up her birth passage. The thought almost cheered him for a moment, but then he winced and whimpered as the metal invading his body expanded under Aragorn’s manipulations.
“Do not tense up. This will not hurt your baby at all. Try to relax, breathe deeply.”
Frodo tried to breathe deeply but all that came out was a half sob. This really was uncomfortable, bordering on pain. How could the device go up so far into his body? He squeezed his eyes shut and whimpered in discomfort and embarrassment and hoped he would not start to cry again. He felt so horribly helpless and spread out.
“Aragorn, please!” he cried softly.
“Nearly over,” Aragorn said. “Relax your thighs and keep your legs widely apart, as this will make the examination more comfortable. The more you tense, the more uncomfortable it will feel.”
Tears prickled the backs of Frodo’s eyes as he felt his flesh expanding from the inside. He hated this experience; it felt so wrong. He felt as though he were being stretched to his very limit; exposed, vulnerable and horribly humiliated. He tried not to think of his friend the King looking up into the most intimate part of his body. This was something that should only happen between lovers, during the most tender of embraces, not spread-eagled and naked on a medical couch. He could not help it; tears of mortification began to run from his eyes and down the side of his face. He reached up to brush them aside and could barely contain a sob of anguish.
“It looks well,” Aragorn said. “I can see the inside walls of the birth canal and the entrance to the womb. There is some discharge…but that is perfectly normal.”
‘Discharge.’ Frodo really hated that word. Pain gave way to utter mortification again. He felt as hot and fiery red as one of Gandalf's dragon fireworks. He would surely burn up and leave only a pile of ash upon the table. He craned his head up, hoping that Aragorn was finished, but all he could see was the top of the King’s dark head as the man bent intently over his object of examination. Frodo wanted this to be over; he wanted to be tucked up in his warm bed, with lots of bedding on top of him and Eomer to hold him close - and fight Aragorn and his speculum off with his sword. He had heard that the pen was mightier than the sword but what about the speculum?
“The mouth of the womb is closed, as it should be. Everything is looking very well.”
Aragorn was still peering into Frodo’s birth canal; his head bent close between the hobbit's spread legs. Frodo tried to look at the ceiling, tried to ignore the indignity his body was being subjected to, but he could not. All he could do was lie there whilst an age seemed to pass. If everything was normal why did it take so much time to examine it?
“Done.”
Frodo could have cried out in relief as he felt the awful item collapsing within him. He felt it being withdrawn and cringed as he heard the awfully loud sucking noise as it came free from his body.
“Can I get down now?” he asked in a small voice.
“There is just one last thing,” Aragorn said. “I am worried about this infection. It does not seem to have cleared.”
Frodo felt the blasted fingers again, this time at his back passage, probing within. A finger slid all the way inside and Frodo felt a sudden overwhelming urge to us the privy. This was all he needed. If he voided now he would simply die and that was all there was to it, but if this prodding within his body carried on my longer he did not see how he could avoid it. It was not like this position afforded him any room to squeeze his legs together. Please, please, let it be over soon! He was sure you could fry eggs on his face, such was the heat of his embarrassment.
Aragorn looked up. “Frodo, I hate to have to ask this, but you and Eomer do know about cleansing?”
“That’s it!” Frodo exploded. “Get me down off here!”
end
Mpreg Frodo, embarasment, medical details, exams, embarrassment, naked hobbit bits, did I mention embarrassment.
Betad by Lily.
The War was over and the city was being rebuilt; lives rebuilt; a world rebuilt. The City of Seven Circles was alive with activity, but still people found time to pause and gape and gossip about why on earth the beautiful holbytlan, the Ringbearer, the saviour of them all, Frodo of the Nine Fingers, should be marched up through the city by six of the White Guard. And why on earth six for such a small person, and what had he done?
“Frodo!” Aragorn sat in a chair by the fireplace looking disappointed, and that cut at Frodo sharper than chastisement could have done. “I asked you to visit me ten days ago. Did I really have to send guards to bring you?”
Frodo folded his arms over his ample middle and frowned. “I had things to attend to.”
Aragorn reached out to pour two mugs of tea. “Come and join me, my friend, I have seen too litle of you of late.”
“And too much of me when you did.” Frodo came forward looking as though he were ready to bolt at any moment. He sat on the edge of the opposite chair and reached for a mug. He sniffed it for a moment as though expecting there to be something other than tea in the brew.
“Do you think I would drug you?”
“You had me arrested!”
“You left me little choice.”
Frodo huffed and blew on his tea before sipping it.
“There was a young woman in the village of Combe who came from a well-to-do family. When she found herself with child she hid it from her parents, ashamed. When it came time for her to birth the child she could keep it to herself no longer, but by then it was too late.”
Frodo looked up over his mug. “Too late?”
“She had not seen a healer. The baby tried to come into the world feet irst, it had twisted about so inside her.”
Frodo stared with blue eyes wide.
“I am not telling you this story to frighten you, Frodo. There is no reason why your child should not be born healthy into the world.”
“What happened?”
“The child did not live. The cord that joined him to his mother had wrapped around his neck.”
“How terrible.”
“What was worse was the grief of the mother. She blamed herself, and I blamed myself. If she had sought help sooner. If I had been a better healer. Frodo, will you let me help you?”
Frodo lay back on the couch. There were twenty-three carved roses in the ceiling from left to right.
So here he was again, after promising himself he would not allow this to happen. He was naked, save for a sheet draped over him, and even as he clutched to the comfort of this Aragorn lifted the bottom edge ad folded the sheet back over Frodo’s chest, exposing the hobbit's bare stomach and legs. It was a little chilly in the room and Frodo shivered. Now his legs were once again being lifted up one at a time into those awful stirrups and Frodo felt embarrassment flooding back into his body. Again the feeling of being horribly exposed coursed through him. Really, the little folded strip of sheet over his chest and shoulders was little sop to his dignity.
Aragorn's strong warm hands were resting on Frodo’s thighs. “Would you spread your legs a little more?”
Taking a deep breath, Frodo complied.
“Let your knees drop all the way open." Aragorn’s hands offered gentle encouragement as Frodo obeyed. All his previous discomfort was soon rising up to overwhelm him. Even a small screen around the couch would help rather than this terribly exposed feeling of lying almost naked in a room with his legs wide open. It was also rather uncomfortable; there was only so far knees could spread apart and he thought he had about reached the limit before his hips would start protesting.
Frodo wondered exactly how far he could spread his legs before something gave. He had a horrible vision of splitting a chicken’s wishbone with Merry at family parties and making a wish. There had always been a moment when the bone had resisted before yielding to their tugging fingers and a pulling, splintering sound of bone separating followed. He wondered if he would make such a sound.
The large hands rubbed for a moment as though to be reassurig, but Frodo wondered what reassurance there could be. He had wanted to please his friend. After all Aragorn had done for him he did not want to see him upset. But now he was regretting his ready acquiescence to another examination. He shut his eyes and groaned.
“Frodo, have I hurt you?”
Frodo opened his eyes and craned his head. It really was most off-putting to be addressed by someone whose head was stuck down between your spread-open thighs.
“I am… What is that?” Frodo had become most suspicious of medical equipment and the device Aragorn held up now looked… “Is that a lamp?”
Aragorn sighed. “Frodo, I promised I would explained each procedure to you beforehand. I will be looking into a rather dark area of your body and I need a light.”
“You are going to shine a light up my…. “ Frodo could not continue. He struggled to sit up, to get off the couch, but wth his legs held elevated it was impossible. “Oh no you don’t!”
“Frodo, I thought we were agreed!”
“Not to you shoving a lamp up my…” All of Frodo’s earlier trepidation flooded back, but it was no use, he was as effectively trapped as he had been in Shelob's web - although at least then he had the advantage of his legs being bound securely together and he was unconscious. He fell back; he could not escape. He had been tricked.
“I am just going to look at you on the outside,” Aragorn explained, pulling up a low stool and seating himself upon it. ‘Make yourself comfortable,’ Frodo thought. ‘Roll up roll up - see the chicken-legged hobbit.’ Frodo knew exactly what Aragorn would be seeing. Not all male hobbits were built along the unique lines that Frodo was. Once every generation or so the combination of Took and Fallohide threw out a deviation from the norm. The thought that Aragorn was currently examining his female parts caused Frodo’s ears to heat in embarrassment.
“Can you slide down a little closer to me?” Aragorn asked, reaching out to slide his large hands under Frodo’s naked bottom and pull the hobbit further down the couch until Frodo was sure his bottom must be hanging out into mid air. What if he were to slip further? He had a horrible image of a baby having its nappy changed and that only served to remind him of Aragorn’s proximity to his genitalia. He had been rushed out of his room by the guards and had not had a chance to wash… what if...? Frodo could hardly finish the thought to himself… what if he smelt! Frodo felt himself flushing in painful heat; knowing his face was already bright red with embarrassment he leant up a little and felt his chest also start to suffuse with hot embarrassment. It was too mortifying for words. Why had he not had a bath this morning?
There as a soft touch of fingers, fingers touching parts of his body that only lovers had touched before now.
“Tell me if this is too sensitive."
Frodo thought he would rather die before he said anything. The less he spoke the sooner it would be over with. Fingers stirred the outer folds of his feminine flesh and Frodo could just imagine Aragorn indulging his healer’s curiosity. Frodo then felt large fingers spreading his inner folds, stretching the opening to his body. The fingers felt rather dry and rough and very invasive.
“Everything appears normal,” Aragorn commented. When a finger slid unexpectedly inward Frodo yelped and raised his head again to frown furiously at his assailant.
“I am sorry,” Aragorn apologised. “I did not intend to do that. You have some… seepage... my finger slid. I would have warned you.”
“Seepage!” Frodo echoed in horror. He was not finding ragorn’s touch at all arousing, so why should there be seepage?
“It is perfectly normal for there to be some discharge when pregnant. I am surprised you have not noticed it yourself.”
“I did not go looking for it,” Frodo scowled. There was a decided draft down there---had someone left a door open?
“Seeing as I already have a finger in place I am going to continue with this part of the exam.” Frodo could see Aragorn adjusting the angle of his lamp. “I will use two fingers for this part.”
Frodo felt two fingers slipping into his female passage. If this had been Eomer he would have found it arousing, but then Eomer would have bought him dinner and wine before sticking his well-lubricated fingers up Frodo’s birth passage.
Frodo groaned again silently to himself. How on earth did he manage to get himself into these predicaments?
The fingers seemed to push a long way up inside. He could feel every movement. It did not hurt but it was not terribly comfortable either. Aragorn rested a hand against Frodo’s thigh.
“Now Frodo, I need you to bear down against my fingers as hard as you can. You will be using muscles which will expel the child at the time of the birth and I want to check for weaknesses.”
Frodo wondered if it was at all possible that he could free one of his feet and kick Aragorn over the head with it. He pushed as hard as he could in what he hoped was the right area and after a while of the fingers probing within him Aragorn finally seemed satisfied and withdrew them, much to Frodo’s relief. The soft, wet popping noise that accompanied the withdrawal sent washes of heat over Frodo’s face, but Aragorn made no comment and only proceeded to wipe his hands on a cloth.
“Now, Frodo, I know you do not like this part of the exam.”
‘No!’ Frodo wanted to scream out. ‘No - not again!’ as he looked over and saw Aragorn reach out for and pick up the dreaded tubular device.
“I know you were uncomfortable last time and I blame myself for not properly explaining.” Aragorn came to stand by Frodo’s head. “We call this a speculum.”
‘Get it away from me!’ Frodo screamed to himself, aware that his eyes were very wide and full of horror as he looked at the speculum in the way a rabbit might have looked upon a club poised over its head. Had the device grown since last time? It looked huge.
“Do…do you have to use that…?” Frodo was ashamed of how small and timid his voice sounded.
Aragorn stroked Frodo’s forehead. “My friend, I would not do anything to you with no other aim than to cause you discomfort. This is a necessary part of the exam. I can only imagine how uncomfortable it must feel but you do want to birth a healthy babe do you not?”
Frodo nodded and felt tears prickling the back of his eyes. He did so want to hold his baby in his arms.
“This will widen your birth passage and let me actually look all the way inside you.” Aragorn walked back to the end of the table and sat down again. Frodo heard a sort of slurping noise.
“I am just lubricating the speculum so it will slide in more easily,” Aragorn said helpfully. Frodo felt fingers on the outer walls of his passage, separating the flesh, and then the touch of cold metal. He tried to shrink over the end of the table but his pinioned legs meant he was going nowhere. This was going to happen and there was nothing he could do about it.
“I am sliding it in now.”
‘No, really!’ Frodo thought sarcastically to himself and was startled that his sarcastic voice sounded like Lobelia S-B. He cheered himself for a moment speculating that she must have one through this at least once in her nasty life, if Lotho were any proof. He wondered how she had liked having a device akin to her own dreaded umbrella shoved up her birth passage. The thought almost cheered him for a moment, but then he winced and whimpered as the metal invading his body expanded under Aragorn’s manipulations.
“Do not tense up. This will not hurt your baby at all. Try to relax, breathe deeply.”
Frodo tried to breathe deeply but all that came out was a half sob. This really was uncomfortable, bordering on pain. How could the device go up so far into his body? He squeezed his eyes shut and whimpered in discomfort and embarrassment and hoped he would not start to cry again. He felt so horribly helpless and spread out.
“Aragorn, please!” he cried softly.
“Nearly over,” Aragorn said. “Relax your thighs and keep your legs widely apart, as this will make the examination more comfortable. The more you tense, the more uncomfortable it will feel.”
Tears prickled the backs of Frodo’s eyes as he felt his flesh expanding from the inside. He hated this experience; it felt so wrong. He felt as though he were being stretched to his very limit; exposed, vulnerable and horribly humiliated. He tried not to think of his friend the King looking up into the most intimate part of his body. This was something that should only happen between lovers, during the most tender of embraces, not spread-eagled and naked on a medical couch. He could not help it; tears of mortification began to run from his eyes and down the side of his face. He reached up to brush them aside and could barely contain a sob of anguish.
“It looks well,” Aragorn said. “I can see the inside walls of the birth canal and the entrance to the womb. There is some discharge…but that is perfectly normal.”
‘Discharge.’ Frodo really hated that word. Pain gave way to utter mortification again. He felt as hot and fiery red as one of Gandalf's dragon fireworks. He would surely burn up and leave only a pile of ash upon the table. He craned his head up, hoping that Aragorn was finished, but all he could see was the top of the King’s dark head as the man bent intently over his object of examination. Frodo wanted this to be over; he wanted to be tucked up in his warm bed, with lots of bedding on top of him and Eomer to hold him close - and fight Aragorn and his speculum off with his sword. He had heard that the pen was mightier than the sword but what about the speculum?
“The mouth of the womb is closed, as it should be. Everything is looking very well.”
Aragorn was still peering into Frodo’s birth canal; his head bent close between the hobbit's spread legs. Frodo tried to look at the ceiling, tried to ignore the indignity his body was being subjected to, but he could not. All he could do was lie there whilst an age seemed to pass. If everything was normal why did it take so much time to examine it?
“Done.”
Frodo could have cried out in relief as he felt the awful item collapsing within him. He felt it being withdrawn and cringed as he heard the awfully loud sucking noise as it came free from his body.
“Can I get down now?” he asked in a small voice.
“There is just one last thing,” Aragorn said. “I am worried about this infection. It does not seem to have cleared.”
Frodo felt the blasted fingers again, this time at his back passage, probing within. A finger slid all the way inside and Frodo felt a sudden overwhelming urge to us the privy. This was all he needed. If he voided now he would simply die and that was all there was to it, but if this prodding within his body carried on my longer he did not see how he could avoid it. It was not like this position afforded him any room to squeeze his legs together. Please, please, let it be over soon! He was sure you could fry eggs on his face, such was the heat of his embarrassment.
Aragorn looked up. “Frodo, I hate to have to ask this, but you and Eomer do know about cleansing?”
“That’s it!” Frodo exploded. “Get me down off here!”
end