(no subject)
Lots of warnings, m’preg, slash, hurt/comfort etc
“What are we to do?” Halbarad asked as he watched his chief sitting on the bed, the sleeping hobbit cradled in his arms.
“Carry out our promise to this little one,” Strider replied matter of factly. “For now we can do little save see him fed. He will need much sleep. Later I will need to examine him and decide upon treatment.”
“Will you take him back to the Shire?”
“It is too early to think of that,” Strider frowned. “And hobbits do not take kindly to what they perceive as strange behaviour. He may not be welcomed back.”
“I need to return to patrol soon,” Halbarad set about cleaning up the bathing things.
While Halbarad was out of the room Strider looked down thoughtfully at the small being sleeping trustfully in his arms. Asleep the hobbit looked so young. Dark circles marred the skin beneath his eyes and he had a bruise on one side of his face, yellowing now but still painful to look at. In the warm room the hobbits hair was drying fast into tight ringlets and curls and Strider found himself running his fingers through them. The hair felt like the finest satin against his calloused fingers. He felt a fierce rush of protectiveness for the small creature who had been so wounded by mankind.
“I have much to make up for my friend,” Strider whispered. He could not resist stroking one finger over the smooth skin of the hobbits face. Such beauty to have been so harmed.
He drew his finger away when Halbarad re-entered the room this time carrying a tray with food items upon it. Strider moved to settle the sleeping form amidst the bedcovers and drew up the blankets to beneath the small chin. Frodo made a small noise, parting his lips and turning his head upon the pillow. Strider lingered a moment, pressing his hand to Frodo’s forehead and feeling the heat there.
“How is he?” Strider drew back his hand. Halbarad lent over and touched the side of the sleeping hobbits face and Strider almost felt an irrational desire to slap the hand away. “How could any one hurt someone so small and so beautiful?”
Strider turned away to the tray to see what food had been provided. He selected a bowl of soup and set it by the fire to keep warm along with a piece of soft bread.
“When he wakes I will see if I can get him to eat. I need to examine him also and see how far along the pregnancy is. I need to ask him how long he was with the outlaws and see if this too was their handiwork.” He felt a longing to go down to the jail and strangle each and every one of the outlaws with his bare hands.
Halbarad shuddered. “The poor creature.” Then he looked up and smiled at his chief. “It is a good thing he fell into your hands.”
The two men spent the rest of the day quietly discussing their plans and watching over the sleeping hobbit. The slight form on the bed hardly moved at all so deep was his need for sleep. Twice Strider got him to sip some watered broth but each time the hobbit hardly came fully awake and sleep back into deep sleep again.
“This is the best thing for him,” Strider said. “He has been through too much and his body and mind need to recover.”
“Do you think he will ever recover?” Halbarad asked. “I have seen this before. People so brutalised they never come fully back to themselves.”
“We can only hope,” strider said.
When evening came Halbarad slipped from the inn and into the night.
Strider stretched out on his lieutenant’s bed. The crackling of the fire made a soothing noise in the grate and he could hear faint noises from the street outside and the rooms below. Most importantly he could hear the low and gentle breathing of the hobbit in the next bed and it was to this lullaby that Strider fell asleep.
It was much later in the night that he awoke to the stealthy sound of movement. Strider opened his eyes to a room lit now by bright moonlight which filtered in through the window. In its light he could see the white shape of the hobbit as Frodo moved across the room and came to stand by Strider’s bed.
The hobbit’s fair skin glowed with pale radiance in the silvered light. As strider watched he crawled up onto the foot of the bed.
“What are you doing?” Strider asked.
“I was cold,” Frodo replied. A small hand brushed against Strider’s thigh as Frodo moved up, the bed dipping under his smaller weight and causing Strider’s body to turn towards him.
Strider noticed that the hobbit was naked, and he became suddenly aware that he was too. He tried to sit up but was prevented as Frodo moved to straddle the ranger’s legs.
“Frodo, you must not…” Strider’s words choked off as the hobbit lay himself full length atop the man’s body. His skin was at once cool and burning like a brand. Strider groaned.
Small hands were tracing over his body, touching at nipples which peaked willingly, then sliding lower. Frodo moved his body around and Strider felt the hard poke of the hobbit’s arousal as it dug into his stomach. Frodo reached between the two of them and caught Strider’s erection as it seemed to spring up to meet the small hands.
“Let me take care of you,” Frodo breathed and stroked up Strider’s length causing the man to moan.
Again he tried to sit up but could not. Small hands were working insistently over his cock and Strider found himself moving his hips in rhythm. He could not remember being so aroused. So tight!
“Frodo!” Strider groaned as he came, pulsing, and the sound of his own cry woke him up to find himself lying sticky and throbbing on his bed in the fire lit room, shame and revulsion at his desires quickly dampening any pleasure his dream self had felt. How could he think such things about a creature who had already been brutalised by men. But desire the beautiful hobbit he did.
Tbc