(no subject)
Lots of warnings, m’preg, slash, past non con, violence to hobbits, hurt/comfort etc - I think I also now need to include schmoop.
Verangel and lilybaggins were feeling sad so here is lots of comfort for you.
Frodo woke to sunshine and birdsong. He was ready to disbelieve his senses and lay looking at the underside of a nearby fern beyond which was the bark of a tree. He turned his eyes upwards and there was the green leafy canopy of the tree and beyond that the blue sky. A shaft of sunlight filtered golden through the canopy and lit upon a bunch of bluebells which swayed gently in the morning breeze. Tears of joy came to Frodo’s eyes and he could have sung. This was the first time in so many months that he had not woken to violence and hurt.
He lay contented and warm, snug in a nest of blankets and breathed in the fresh scents of the forest around him and listened to the joyful song of the birds. Something warm and heavy lay at his back, breath stirred the hair on the top of Frodo’s head and a large, heavy arm held him around his chest. The arm was not restraining though and felt only warm and protective.
Frodo would have been happy to have lain thus for hours but someone had other ideas. A sharp kick to his ribs from the inside reminded him that someone was awake.
“Someone wants their breakfast,” rumbled a deep voice from above Frodo’s head.
Frodo giggled. “A hobbit indeed.”
Strider moved to sit up and look down at Frodo. “How do you feel?” He rested a hand on Frodo’s forehead. “Your fever is almost gone.”
“I feel fine,” Frodo replied with a smile. He did not want the warm weight at his back to move. He felt so sheltered and protected with it there. He knew he was being foolish, to so readily trust another man, but there was something about this Strider, this Ranger from the North. There was more to the man than his rough outward appearance and Frodo thought he detected in him something of elvish light. He remembered the singing of last night.
“You speak elvish?”
“Yes,” Strider got to his feet and moved to tuck the blankets back around Frodo. “I was raised in Rivendell by Lord Elrond.”
Frodo sat up. “How wonderful! Bilbo told me all about Rivendell, and I have met a few elves.”
“You will meet many more,” Strider said as he pulled provisions from his pack. “I am taking you to Rivendell. If that is where you wish to go.”
“To Rivendell?” Frodo knew he must sound foolish, and probably look foolish too with his mouth hanging open.
“Bilbo is probably there, if he has not taken a trip with Gandalf.”
Joy had surged through Frodo at the mention of Bilbo and Gandalf but then a sudden thought struck him. What would they think of him? Not only was he heavy with child, but he had also been the captive of outlaws, used by them.
“What is it?” Strider must have read Frodo’s emotions clearly on his face for he came to kneel by the hobbit’s side.
“I am ashamed. What will they say when they see me?”
Strider took Frodo’s hand, “I believe they will say how glad they are to see you, how much they love you and how sorry they are that you were hurt. And, Frodo, you cannot blame your child for what those men did to you.”
Frodo looked puzzled for a moment but then realised what Strider meant. “Oh no, this was not…the outlaws did not… I was already with child when they captured me.”
“Then your child was fathered by another hobbit? Do you wish me to take you to him?”
“No,” Frodo dropped his eyes and Strider could see a blush colouring the fair cheeks. “I told you I met a Ranger on the borders of the Shire. He was kind and I found myself attracted to him. We spent a night together. The child is his.” Frodo plucked the edge of the blanket. “You must think me very shameful to have spent only one night with a man.”
Strider was not sure what he felt. His mind was whirling. That Frodo had taken a man as a lover… “I am pleased your child was conceived of love.” Was as he could think of to say. “Now, you must have something to eat, and we will be on our way. It should take us about five days to reach Rivendell.”
Seated up high on the horses back Frodo at first felt a little queasy but he soon settled down and found he was enjoying himself. The view was lovely, it was a lovely day and he was held secure against the Rangers body. Strider had fixed up a seat for Frodo with the bed roll and held the hobbit across his body so Frodo was sitting side-saddle with one of the ranger’s strong arms holding him secure.
They had to make frequent stops but it was quite comfortable and Frodo even found himself dozing off a little as the gait of the horse and the sway of the Strider’s body lulled him. As the afternoon wore on Strider relaxed more and they talked a little and even sang some songs, delighted to find there were many they both knew, mostly elvish ones Frodo had been taught by Bilbo. Frodo found himself laughing more and making deliberate attempts to make the stern looking ranger smile as well. He found he liked the broad smile which made Strider look handsome and so much younger, and he liked the rumble of laughter which he could provoke with tales of his youth in the Shire. It also helped Frodo, as while he was chatting he could banish the dark thoughts which threatened to spoil the sunny day. He knew there were things he would have to deal with but he wanted to put them off for as long as possible.
At night they camped again and Frodo slept easily in Striders protective embrace to wake again to sunshine. Had it not been for the circumstances which had lead up to it this would have been a joyful time for Frodo. He was travelling at last, on his way to Bilbo and the elves, and his companion was intelligent and interesting, and kind.
It was on the second day that Strider broke off in the middle of singing.
“Frodo, I wish to tell you something. Strider is a name the Bree folk knew me as. It is not my real name. Or rather it is just one of the names I am known by.”
“How mysterious,” Frodo smiled.
“In Rivendell I am called Estel and it would please me if you would call me that.”
“Hope,” murmured Frodo. “It suits you well, and I would love to call you that. I am sorry I have no other names to share with you. Though Uncle Sara did call me the Worst Rascal in Buckland.”
“And Gandalf did call you the Best Hobbit in the Shire.”
“Did he now?” Frodo laughed. “He always told me I was a very curious hobbit and would I stop pestering him with questions now. But O! Stop!”
“What is it?” Estel asked, reining in his horse, concern filling his voice.
Frodo pointed to a sheltered spot off the trail. “Mushrooms!”
They dined that evening on the mushrooms Frodo had spotted and even Estel had second helpings. They sat at their small fire afterwards and the ranger produced from somewhere in his pack a long stemmed clay pipe which he shared with Frodo. In silence they watched night gather around the golden glow of the fire and Frodo found himself nodding off where he sat. He rested his head against Estel’s arm.
“I think we should get you to bed,” Estel eventually said when Frodo had nearly fallen over for the third time.
Frodo yawned. “A very good idea.” He rubbed his swollen belly. “Some one is already asleep.”
Estel helped Frodo to his bedroll and tucked the blanket over him. Frodo knew a full grown hobbit should be ashamed of being tucked in so but it was delightful and he revelled in the comfort. He reached out and took the man’s hand and sat back up for a moment.
“Estel, thank you for all you have done for me,” and he stretched up and set a kiss to the side of the man’s mouth before lying down again and closing his eyes.
Estel sat for a moment above the hobbit. He reached out and touched the corner of his mouth where the small, full lips had rested for a brief moment. The skin tingled. Then he got up and set about packing up the camp for the night.
When he came at last back to the bed roll Frodo was already deeply asleep, his breath deep and even. Estel moved carefully in behind him and pulled the small body close against him so he could wrap himself protectively around it. In his sleep Frodo sighed contentedly and wriggled himself deeper into the ranger’s embrace. “I could get used to this,” Estel thought.
He awoke deep into the night to find Frodo moving about. He waited a moment to see if the hobbit would settle but then he heard a clear gasp of pain.
“Frodo? What is it?” he asked.
“Estel!” Frodo’s voice sounded strained. “My belly. I am getting pains, like cramp. I though it was indigestion but they are getting stronger.”
Estel shifted his hands to the mound of Frodo’s belly. He could feel movement. He sat up and shoved blankets and nightshirt aside. Frodo moaned. Estel’s hands splayed out across Frodo’s abdomen could clearly register the babies change in position.
“Frodo, it is nothing to worry about,” his voice belief his own concerns. “My inexperience with hobbit anatomy has misled me. I think your baby is coming.”
Tbc