Too Long to Wait: Night Thoughts
Frodo stared up at the ceiling. He was far from sleep. He wondered if he should not just give it up and fetch himself some warm milk. Beside him, Aragorn stirred slightly.
“Aragorn.”
“Um.”
“I cannot sleep.”
“Um.” Aragorn shifted and groaned, but he did not open his eyes.
Frodo let out a heavy sigh. Ever since Koslorn had dropped the news, whirling images had filled his thoughts. He, Frodo Baggins, a male hobbit, the Ringbearer, was soon to bear the king’s heir. Of course, Koslorn had warned that he might lose it before too long.
But if Koslorn was wrong…It was *this* idea that danced tantalizingly in his mind. That he could experience the growing of new life inside him, something a part of himself and Aragorn, something that he would protect with his life. He imagined a sweet babe, perhaps with gray eyes like Aragorn and a curly head of hobbit hair like himself. Frodo imagined holding the babe, how sweet his freshly bathed skin would smell, how his warmth would fill Frodo’s arms.
*Mine to love.*
Frodo glanced again at Aragorn.
*Ours.*
Aragorn lay with his back to him, his shoulders too stiff to indicate sleep.
“You cannot avoid speaking of it forever,” Frodo whispered.
“I am weary,” Aragorn murmured.
“You have said not one word to me since Koslorn left.”
Still, there was silence, and Frodo let out a mournful sigh before turning away. Now he would never sleep.
***
In actuality, Aragorn was far from sleep. He could not share Frodo’s joy in this event. If he grew attached to it…embraced it…it would come to no good end. Koslorn had said Frodo would likely expel it. And if he did not - and this was what chilled Aragorn, made his stomach turn sickeningly - then how would it come out? What effect would it have on Frodo? He had a terrible image of Frodo bleeding to death in great agony, soaking their sheets with his blood. And there would be nothing he could do about it.
His stomach sank with guilt when he heard Frodo’s frustrated sigh. He should take Frodo’s hands and kiss him, empty his heart of everything - the shock, the possible joy, his fears. Far better than to close himself off to Frodo when the hobbit needed him more than ever.
He took in a breath and then turned, putting his arms around Frodo. Frodo tensed first and then twisted around to face him. Anger shone in his huge eyes as he clutched the front of Aragorn’s nightshirt in his fist.
“Don’t *ever* push me away like that again.”
“I shall not.” Aragorn said. “I am sorry.”
Frodo’s grip on Aragorn’s nightshirt lessened. “You’re not…you’re not repulsed by me now, are you?” Frodo’s voice was weak, nearly a whisper.
Aragorn looked into that beloved face and could not believe what Frodo was saying. “Oh, no. Never.”
“I thought maybe that’s why-“
“Hush.” Aragorn kissed Frodo’s lips, nearly crushing them with his. “I love you.”
“It will be like another adventure,” Frodo said, his eyes bright again, his cheeks flushed. “Whatever comes of it.” His hands trembled in Aragorn’s grasp. “Koslorn said-“
“Never mind what Koslorn said,” Aragorn interrupted, rubbing Frodo’s hands. “He can be a fool.”
“Your best healer, a fool?” Frodo said, arching his eyebrows.
“When my hobbit needs the best care, do you think I would put him in anyone’s hands but mine? Koslorn will merely assist and act in my absence.”
Frodo laughed. “But he said I may lose it soon. I only mean to say that if I do, that will be part of the adventure, too, and I will try not to grieve too much for something I should not have had in the first place.”
Aragorn reached down and hiked up Frodo’s nightshirt so that he could rub the hobbit’s only slightly rounded abdomen. “I did not want such an adventure,” he chuckled. “Not now. But now I shall embrace it.”
“And now you may have an heir.” Frodo’s voice sounded pert again, and Aragorn’s heart lifted. “What do you think of that, King Elessar? How ever will you give the news to Faramir and Eowyn that their children will never rule Gondor?”
“You are wicked, my hobbit,” Aragorn said, hugging him closer. “But how will you tell the mayor of Hobbiton that you shan’t be coming home for a visit because you are in a delicate condition?”
Frodo’s lips paled. “Good gracious, the Shire will buzz with the gossip for generations.” He paused and smiled gently. “But that is all right with me.”
He leaned against Aragorn’s chest, and it was not long before Aragorn heard the hobbit’s breaths slow and deepen. Aragorn kissed the top of his head. It had taken much effort to mask his fear and a much darker thought that had taken hold. He would never utter it to Frodo, never in all the ages of Middle earth, but he took comfort in the idea that Frodo might lose the baby early. At least then he would not suffer as much pain and the bleeding would not be too much. What was important to Aragorn was that Frodo came through his adventure unbroken.
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