A Surprise, part 3
Title: A Surprise
Rating: Adult
Pairing: Frodo/Halbarad
Summary: Frodo and Halbarad living randomly together in Bree. TOTALLY AU. Obviously. And then something VERY unexpected happens. Based on the TLC show “I Didn’t Know I was Pregnant.” :D
Warnings: MPREG (male pregnancy), extreme AU-ness
For lilybaggins
Previous parts:
Part 1-mpreg
Part 2
Present time
Frodo lay in a fog of pain. Time lurched forward in odd jumps and starts. Somehow he had closed his eyes and when he had opened them again, Strider and Halbarad were in the room, and the light was thin, the shadows outside long.
“Halbarad, my friend.” Strider’s voice. “You must stay calm. I need you to listen.”
Halbarad’s rough voice. “He’s bleeding. Do something for his pain.”
Frodo felt as if his very life was oozing from him; he felt light-headed, disconnected from the pain, and his vision was blurred. Halbarad squeezed his hand, speaking in a soothing voice, but Frodo felt only a feather touch. He was dying and he did not want to. He did not want to leave Halbarad. They had had too short a time together. He could not bear to leave his cousins. He was glad they were not here in the room with him. He couldn’t bear to have them see him this ill.
Strider slid Frodo’s breeches down over his hips.
“What are you…?” Frodo murmured.
“What are you doing?” Halbarad demanded in a much louder voice.
“I need to examine you, Frodo. How long have you been in this much pain?”
Frodo looked in Strider‘s eyes. He trusted him completely. He took a steadying breath. “Early this morning…before sunrise.” He grimaced as another cramp began to build. The pains were getting worse and closer together. Less time to breathe, to recover. His heart battered hard, and he took big, gulping breaths in an effort to calm himself.
Strider placed his hands on Frodo‘s cheeks. “Try to relax for me.”
Frodo flung his head from side to side, fully caught in the pain as the cramp crested. “I cannot!”
Halbarad’s face was naked with pain and fear, and as the latest pain began to recede, Frodo promised himself that he would try to be more brave. He would do his best to fight whatever it was that was consuming him with such pain.
“Halbarad,” Strider said in a low voice. “I need you to climb into bed behind him and hold him between your legs. Then hold his legs so that they are spread as far apart as possible.”
“What are you looking for?” Halbarad asked.
“I’ll tell you when I find it,” Strider said.
Halbarad got into bed. He settled Frodo between his legs so that Frodo could lean against him. Frodo immediately felt a little better, encased within his lover’s strong arms. His relief was short-lived. Halbarad pressed his hands against Frodo’s inner thighs, spreading his legs apart until they were uncomfortably stretched, leaving his backside cold and vulnerable.
“That’s good,” Strider said. He stuck his hands into a bowl of steaming water that was on the bureau. He washed and then dried them with a clean cloth before settling cross-legged at the foot of the bed.
First he touched and nudged at Frodo’s abdomen in different places, sometimes holding his hand down for several seconds in one place. Then he placed his ear down on certain parts of Frodo’s abdomen as if listening. Then he groped inside Frodo. Frodo gasped at the unpleasant tugging and widening inside him.
“What are you doing?” he asked in alarm. Another pain was building. He struggled against Halbarad’s grip, squirming from side to side. “Let go of me, let go.”
Halbarad tightened his grip so that Frodo could not move. “Shh, let him finish,” he said.
“Stay, Frodo,“ Strider said. “I now suspect I know what ails you, but I’m not going to say anything until I have a final…” More uncomfortable tugging and stretching. Then he laughed a little in wonder.
“What is it?” Halbarad asked sharply.
Strider’s hands slid out. He got up off the bed and washed himself again, keeping his back turned to Halbarad and Frodo. “You can relax the grip on his legs, but hold your position.”
The pain had built to a climax in Frodo’s stomach and he writhed against Halbarad, gasping and groaning. Halbarad embraced him, kissing his sweaty brow and whispering soothing words to him.
Strider waited until the pain passed. Frodo caught his breath, falling limp and exhausted in Halbarad‘s grip.
“What is it, Strider? What‘s wrong with me?”
“You’re having a baby.”
A terrible rage surged through Frodo’s breast. He suffered, in great pain, bleeding, possibly dying, and Strider dared to jest? Perhaps Strider thought that humor would take the edge of a far worse piece of news, but Frodo was in no mood to laugh. There was a mug of water on the bedside table, and Frodo knew just by looking at it that he could not reach it. But if he could, if he could, he would fling it with all his strength at Strider.
“Baby?” Halbarad said.
“It’s a jest,” Frodo said. “A badly chosen one at that.”
“No jest,” Strider said. “And there is good news and bad news.”
“Wait, Estel,” Halbarad said. His voice sounded faint. “Did you say baby? How is this possible?”
Frodo lay weak and furious, glaring at Strider. A person should know when a jest has gone on for too long.
“The good news,” Strider said, “is that there has been progress and the babe appears healthy.”
“Baby.” Halbarad touched Frodo’s belly in disbelief. “But where does he bear it? He’s so slender, especially for a hobbit.”
“This is enough,” Frodo said in a fury. “Halbarad, do not fall for this nonsense. Strider, I must ask that you leave if you will insist upon continuing with this drivel.”
“No jest,” Strider said. “I know this is alarming to you, but it does happen from time to time to male hobbits and Elves when they…er…“ He glanced at Halbarad, “have relations with Men.”
The next pain came so hard and furious that Frodo lunged back into Halbarad again, shouting and kicking, clutching Halbarad’s large arms with all his strength.
“How can he bear it?” Halbarad asked in a thin, panicked voice. “Have any such babes survived?” He kissed Frodo’s head, on his damp curls and whispered to him, “I‘m not going to leave you. Lean into me.”
When the pain receded, Frodo asked, “So tell me, what’s the bad news?”
“The bad news is that no such babes born by hobbits have survived. And half of the hobbits have not survived the birth.”
Frodo sagged back into Halbarad‘s embrace. He could see now that Strider was not jesting, that he truly believed what he said. It was all ludicrous, impossible, and yet, the pains came in waves, like contractions--
“Why tell us this?” Halbarad asked in a sharp voice.
“Because,” Strider said, “those hobbits did not have proper care. Most, like Frodo, had no idea what was happening ahead of time and they continued to do things to put themselves and the babe at risk. I do not foresee the same problem here. The birth will not necessarily be easy. Frodo has already been in labor for nearly eight hours, is that true?”
“Something like that,” Frodo said, dazed, unable to believe that he was in labor.
“This babe is not coming any time soon. It could be another twelve hours. Or more.”
“Another twelve hours of this?” Frodo bent forward, riding a new wave of pain, clutching Halbarad’s arms again with a brute strength that neither of them knew he had and spewing language that he had no doubt heard first from the low-life Bill Ferny at some point.
Go on to next part
Rating: Adult
Pairing: Frodo/Halbarad
Summary: Frodo and Halbarad living randomly together in Bree. TOTALLY AU. Obviously. And then something VERY unexpected happens. Based on the TLC show “I Didn’t Know I was Pregnant.” :D
Warnings: MPREG (male pregnancy), extreme AU-ness
For lilybaggins
Previous parts:
Part 1-mpreg
Part 2
Present time
Frodo lay in a fog of pain. Time lurched forward in odd jumps and starts. Somehow he had closed his eyes and when he had opened them again, Strider and Halbarad were in the room, and the light was thin, the shadows outside long.
“Halbarad, my friend.” Strider’s voice. “You must stay calm. I need you to listen.”
Halbarad’s rough voice. “He’s bleeding. Do something for his pain.”
Frodo felt as if his very life was oozing from him; he felt light-headed, disconnected from the pain, and his vision was blurred. Halbarad squeezed his hand, speaking in a soothing voice, but Frodo felt only a feather touch. He was dying and he did not want to. He did not want to leave Halbarad. They had had too short a time together. He could not bear to leave his cousins. He was glad they were not here in the room with him. He couldn’t bear to have them see him this ill.
Strider slid Frodo’s breeches down over his hips.
“What are you…?” Frodo murmured.
“What are you doing?” Halbarad demanded in a much louder voice.
“I need to examine you, Frodo. How long have you been in this much pain?”
Frodo looked in Strider‘s eyes. He trusted him completely. He took a steadying breath. “Early this morning…before sunrise.” He grimaced as another cramp began to build. The pains were getting worse and closer together. Less time to breathe, to recover. His heart battered hard, and he took big, gulping breaths in an effort to calm himself.
Strider placed his hands on Frodo‘s cheeks. “Try to relax for me.”
Frodo flung his head from side to side, fully caught in the pain as the cramp crested. “I cannot!”
Halbarad’s face was naked with pain and fear, and as the latest pain began to recede, Frodo promised himself that he would try to be more brave. He would do his best to fight whatever it was that was consuming him with such pain.
“Halbarad,” Strider said in a low voice. “I need you to climb into bed behind him and hold him between your legs. Then hold his legs so that they are spread as far apart as possible.”
“What are you looking for?” Halbarad asked.
“I’ll tell you when I find it,” Strider said.
Halbarad got into bed. He settled Frodo between his legs so that Frodo could lean against him. Frodo immediately felt a little better, encased within his lover’s strong arms. His relief was short-lived. Halbarad pressed his hands against Frodo’s inner thighs, spreading his legs apart until they were uncomfortably stretched, leaving his backside cold and vulnerable.
“That’s good,” Strider said. He stuck his hands into a bowl of steaming water that was on the bureau. He washed and then dried them with a clean cloth before settling cross-legged at the foot of the bed.
First he touched and nudged at Frodo’s abdomen in different places, sometimes holding his hand down for several seconds in one place. Then he placed his ear down on certain parts of Frodo’s abdomen as if listening. Then he groped inside Frodo. Frodo gasped at the unpleasant tugging and widening inside him.
“What are you doing?” he asked in alarm. Another pain was building. He struggled against Halbarad’s grip, squirming from side to side. “Let go of me, let go.”
Halbarad tightened his grip so that Frodo could not move. “Shh, let him finish,” he said.
“Stay, Frodo,“ Strider said. “I now suspect I know what ails you, but I’m not going to say anything until I have a final…” More uncomfortable tugging and stretching. Then he laughed a little in wonder.
“What is it?” Halbarad asked sharply.
Strider’s hands slid out. He got up off the bed and washed himself again, keeping his back turned to Halbarad and Frodo. “You can relax the grip on his legs, but hold your position.”
The pain had built to a climax in Frodo’s stomach and he writhed against Halbarad, gasping and groaning. Halbarad embraced him, kissing his sweaty brow and whispering soothing words to him.
Strider waited until the pain passed. Frodo caught his breath, falling limp and exhausted in Halbarad‘s grip.
“What is it, Strider? What‘s wrong with me?”
“You’re having a baby.”
A terrible rage surged through Frodo’s breast. He suffered, in great pain, bleeding, possibly dying, and Strider dared to jest? Perhaps Strider thought that humor would take the edge of a far worse piece of news, but Frodo was in no mood to laugh. There was a mug of water on the bedside table, and Frodo knew just by looking at it that he could not reach it. But if he could, if he could, he would fling it with all his strength at Strider.
“Baby?” Halbarad said.
“It’s a jest,” Frodo said. “A badly chosen one at that.”
“No jest,” Strider said. “And there is good news and bad news.”
“Wait, Estel,” Halbarad said. His voice sounded faint. “Did you say baby? How is this possible?”
Frodo lay weak and furious, glaring at Strider. A person should know when a jest has gone on for too long.
“The good news,” Strider said, “is that there has been progress and the babe appears healthy.”
“Baby.” Halbarad touched Frodo’s belly in disbelief. “But where does he bear it? He’s so slender, especially for a hobbit.”
“This is enough,” Frodo said in a fury. “Halbarad, do not fall for this nonsense. Strider, I must ask that you leave if you will insist upon continuing with this drivel.”
“No jest,” Strider said. “I know this is alarming to you, but it does happen from time to time to male hobbits and Elves when they…er…“ He glanced at Halbarad, “have relations with Men.”
The next pain came so hard and furious that Frodo lunged back into Halbarad again, shouting and kicking, clutching Halbarad’s large arms with all his strength.
“How can he bear it?” Halbarad asked in a thin, panicked voice. “Have any such babes survived?” He kissed Frodo’s head, on his damp curls and whispered to him, “I‘m not going to leave you. Lean into me.”
When the pain receded, Frodo asked, “So tell me, what’s the bad news?”
“The bad news is that no such babes born by hobbits have survived. And half of the hobbits have not survived the birth.”
Frodo sagged back into Halbarad‘s embrace. He could see now that Strider was not jesting, that he truly believed what he said. It was all ludicrous, impossible, and yet, the pains came in waves, like contractions--
“Why tell us this?” Halbarad asked in a sharp voice.
“Because,” Strider said, “those hobbits did not have proper care. Most, like Frodo, had no idea what was happening ahead of time and they continued to do things to put themselves and the babe at risk. I do not foresee the same problem here. The birth will not necessarily be easy. Frodo has already been in labor for nearly eight hours, is that true?”
“Something like that,” Frodo said, dazed, unable to believe that he was in labor.
“This babe is not coming any time soon. It could be another twelve hours. Or more.”
“Another twelve hours of this?” Frodo bent forward, riding a new wave of pain, clutching Halbarad’s arms again with a brute strength that neither of them knew he had and spewing language that he had no doubt heard first from the low-life Bill Ferny at some point.
Go on to next part