(no subject)
Happy birthday elbereth1368! Here's a hokey little something for you from my new MPREG series . . .
Disclaimer: Don't own it, couldn't make money off it if I wanted to.
Warnings: Slash, MPREG
****
Frodo had finally managed to escape from under his companions’ watchful eyes---and that was quite a significant thing, for they always seemed to somehow know Frodo’s exact whereabouts---an uncanny knack the hobbit remembered his mother possessing. Especially when a certain youngster tried to steal freshly baked apple pies.
But to avoid any cases of panic, Frodo had left a note at the house informing Sam and Gandalf of his short trip out to the market. For although Aragorn very much wanted Frodo to live in the Tower with him, Frodo felt less conspicuous in the house and insisted on staying there for now.
Oh, was he ever craving the thick fried cheese on a stick to be gotten at the market! And also that lovely spun-sugar candy . . . as well as any other assorted “bad” foods he definitely wasn't supposed to be eating. There was no harm in having them once in a while, though, was there?
Of course not. Unless search parties found him . . . and he would certainly be easy to find, Frodo noted wryly. There was only one hobbit in all of Minas Tirith with nine fingers and a belly large with child.
Oh yes, he would be all too easy to find. He’d better walk faster.
***
Rubbing his now extra-large, packed-full belly full of fried cheese and spun sugar and carrying a sack of goodies to munch on later, Frodo found he wished he’d ridden a pony. Walking was good for him, Aragorn had said, as long as he didn’t overdo or exhaust himself. But now, he was so tired, and though he couldn’t actually *see* his ankles, he could feel them swelling . . . funny how he tired so easily nowadays, especially with the hot sun beating down on his head.
Nevertheless, the market had been quite fun and entertaining-as long as he ignored the calls from fortune-tellers trying to coerce him to their booths so they could wrest gold coins from him to determine if his child was a girl or a boy.
Old Lady Helgotha had claimed it was a boy.
But Olithir the Great was determined that Frodo was going to bear a maid-child.
So caught up was Frodo in his thoughts that he failed to notice when he nearly ran head-on into one of the Big Folk coming toward him.
"Frodo! Easy there, have a care for yourself!" Strong hands steadied him and Frodo found himself looking up into Captain Faramir’s kind face.
The hobbit was abashed . . . he felt like such a clumsy oaf. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Captain Faramir . . . I’m not too light on my feet and find myself tripping into nearly everything nowadays." He smiled apologetically.
His face crinkled with worry, the man knelt down to Frodo's level. "You look tired, Frodo. I imagine Aragorn would have a conniption fit if he knew you were out here alone." Faramir raised an eyebrow, his gaze boring into the hobbit.
"I just wanted to get out and go for a walk to the market . . . and why not? I’m not an invalid as they think . . . just . . ."
"Expecting the king’s heir in a few months.” The grey eyes dropped to Frodo's midsection, and a small pang of longing-which passed so quickly Frodo was not even sure he’d seen it-crossed Faramir’s face. "They are concerned about your health---as I would be. And am."
"Nevertheless, I do sometimes get tired of constantly being told where to go and what to do, and what position to sleep in, and how often I should put my feet up, and what I should eat . . . they're merciless! Especially Aragorn."
At this Faramir laughed gaily. "Aragorn is a lucky man, Frodo, and well he knows it." Suddenly his voice grew very soft and he leaned down, not missing Frodo wiping his sweaty brow with the back of a hand. "You look exhausted---come sit with me a moment in the shade."
"I am all right, just a little hot." Frodo patted his belly with a wan smile and followed Faramir over to a low bench under a tree. "The baby is a bit like having an oven inside of me, actually!" He paused, looking up at the man, feeling suddenly like making hobbity small-talk. "I do hope I can make it to Edoras for your betrothal, Faramir. I insist upon going, but I'm sure Aragorn will have other notions."
Making sure Frodo sat down, Faramir pulled a flask out of his coat and unstoppered it, wetting a cloth and then handing the flask to the hobbit. "Plain water---drink as much as you can." Seeing Frodo obey, Faramir smiled, dabbing the damp cloth over Frodo's face. "I do suspect Aragorn will have something to say about that, and I must agree that your attempting such a trip is not wise. Now, feeling any better? Allow me to see you back home. To Mithrandir's house?"
"Yes, thank you. But really, I'm feeling---" Suddenly his stomach lurched with nausea, and with a groan of despair Frodo realized the spun sugar he'd consumed was about to spin right out onto the open air. "I'm sorry, I---" Leaning over, he vomited onto the ground, dimly aware of Faramir behind him, holding Frodo's brow and chest with strong arms as Frodo convulsed.
When it was over, Frodo felt his cheeks redden with embarrassment, but Faramir's grip on him did not loosen. Instead, the man wiped Frodo's mouth with the damp cloth and rubbed his belly in light circles until the hobbit felt oriented enough to sit up a bit in his arms.
"I'm so ashamed," Frodo ranted, gulping. "Please forgive me, I was craving all these sweet foods at the market and over-indulged . . . I should have known better . . . "
"I suspect you are overheated, and that is what is making you ill," Faramir said, pressing the water flask to Frodo's lips again. "You are more susceptible to the afternoon sun, being small and with child. Drink up, and then I am going to carry you home, and no arguments."
Frodo nodded, sipping, and realized he'd never make it home on his own without seriously risking his health and the baby's. After a minute or two, Faramir made sure Frodo's tunic was loosened enough and easily hefted Frodo into his arms, carrying him comfortably against his chest but ever mindful of the hobbit's swollen belly.
"Seems I'm forever fainting or falling around you, Faramir . . . I do apologize," Frodo whispered, his eyelids growing heavy. He sighed as the man put the damp cloth on his chest---it felt so cool and heavenly.
"Sssssh. Go to sleep, now. You will be back in you own bed in short order." Frodo wasn't sure if he imagined it, but he thought Faramir kissed his brow just before he drifted off.
***
"And Frodo, if you ever find yourself wishing to indulge in market treats, all you have to do is ask and they shall be brought," Aragorn said, his face concerned but his eyes twinkling at the hobbit as he leaned down to kiss the corner of Frodo's mouth. "Having them every once in a while certainly cannot harm you or the child---in fact, for a hobbit, they may even be curative."
Frodo smiled up at him, blinking drowsily. He had woken up to find himself back in his soft bed, naked, cool sheets atop and below him and Aragorn and Faramir and Sam hovering over and bathing his face and neck. He'd been feverish, they said, and of course Aragorn had then insisted on taking his temperature with that horrible glass thing that had to be inserted into his bottom, which Frodo didn't much like. Especially when he felt so weak that turning over onto his side required several pairs of hands.
But Aragorn had pronounced his temperature to be at safe levels, and now the baby kicked vigorously inside him, letting Frodo know it was also unharmed by his excursion.
"I just wanted to get out for a bit," Frodo said now, yawning and stretching his aching back. "I shan't do it again."
"You are not a prisoner in this house, Frodo, but please, do not go by yourself and do not walk so far," Aragorn said, raising Frodo's head and making him drink something that tasted quite heavenly, rather like ripe red cherries. "Thank the Valar that Faramir found you when he did."
"Indeed," Faramir said, grinning. "Or I suspect Frodo might have gone back and lost more coin to the Lady Helgotha and Olithir the Great."
"Who're they?" Sam asked, puzzled.
Frodo turned to Faramir between sips of drink, giving the man a mock frown. "How did you know I did that?"
"Because no one can resist the fortune-tellers of Minas Tirith, and they especially like to prey on unsuspecting halflings hoping to learn the gender of the child they're carrying. Well, what was it? A male or female child for our king?"
"One said boy, the other girl." Frodo tried not to laugh, as it caused his head to ache. "I suppose they don't know what they're talking about, but it was an interesting experience either way." He looked over at Faramir. "Thank you for what you did for me . . . I would not have made it home on my own."
"It was my pleasure, dear Frodo," said Faramir, leaning over and clasping the hobbit's hand before rising. "And now, I must go back to my regular duties . . . take good care of him and the child, Aragorn."
"That I certainly shall. He is going to eat a bit and then be put back to sleep, and he'll remain in bed for the next few days at the very least."
Faramir nodded, his eyes soft as he looked at Frodo. Then the look was quickly gone, to be replaced by his usual stalwart countenance. And with a gentle rub to the mound of Frodo's stomach under the sheets, Faramir was gone as well.
The End
Disclaimer: Don't own it, couldn't make money off it if I wanted to.
Warnings: Slash, MPREG
****
Frodo had finally managed to escape from under his companions’ watchful eyes---and that was quite a significant thing, for they always seemed to somehow know Frodo’s exact whereabouts---an uncanny knack the hobbit remembered his mother possessing. Especially when a certain youngster tried to steal freshly baked apple pies.
But to avoid any cases of panic, Frodo had left a note at the house informing Sam and Gandalf of his short trip out to the market. For although Aragorn very much wanted Frodo to live in the Tower with him, Frodo felt less conspicuous in the house and insisted on staying there for now.
Oh, was he ever craving the thick fried cheese on a stick to be gotten at the market! And also that lovely spun-sugar candy . . . as well as any other assorted “bad” foods he definitely wasn't supposed to be eating. There was no harm in having them once in a while, though, was there?
Of course not. Unless search parties found him . . . and he would certainly be easy to find, Frodo noted wryly. There was only one hobbit in all of Minas Tirith with nine fingers and a belly large with child.
Oh yes, he would be all too easy to find. He’d better walk faster.
***
Rubbing his now extra-large, packed-full belly full of fried cheese and spun sugar and carrying a sack of goodies to munch on later, Frodo found he wished he’d ridden a pony. Walking was good for him, Aragorn had said, as long as he didn’t overdo or exhaust himself. But now, he was so tired, and though he couldn’t actually *see* his ankles, he could feel them swelling . . . funny how he tired so easily nowadays, especially with the hot sun beating down on his head.
Nevertheless, the market had been quite fun and entertaining-as long as he ignored the calls from fortune-tellers trying to coerce him to their booths so they could wrest gold coins from him to determine if his child was a girl or a boy.
Old Lady Helgotha had claimed it was a boy.
But Olithir the Great was determined that Frodo was going to bear a maid-child.
So caught up was Frodo in his thoughts that he failed to notice when he nearly ran head-on into one of the Big Folk coming toward him.
"Frodo! Easy there, have a care for yourself!" Strong hands steadied him and Frodo found himself looking up into Captain Faramir’s kind face.
The hobbit was abashed . . . he felt like such a clumsy oaf. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Captain Faramir . . . I’m not too light on my feet and find myself tripping into nearly everything nowadays." He smiled apologetically.
His face crinkled with worry, the man knelt down to Frodo's level. "You look tired, Frodo. I imagine Aragorn would have a conniption fit if he knew you were out here alone." Faramir raised an eyebrow, his gaze boring into the hobbit.
"I just wanted to get out and go for a walk to the market . . . and why not? I’m not an invalid as they think . . . just . . ."
"Expecting the king’s heir in a few months.” The grey eyes dropped to Frodo's midsection, and a small pang of longing-which passed so quickly Frodo was not even sure he’d seen it-crossed Faramir’s face. "They are concerned about your health---as I would be. And am."
"Nevertheless, I do sometimes get tired of constantly being told where to go and what to do, and what position to sleep in, and how often I should put my feet up, and what I should eat . . . they're merciless! Especially Aragorn."
At this Faramir laughed gaily. "Aragorn is a lucky man, Frodo, and well he knows it." Suddenly his voice grew very soft and he leaned down, not missing Frodo wiping his sweaty brow with the back of a hand. "You look exhausted---come sit with me a moment in the shade."
"I am all right, just a little hot." Frodo patted his belly with a wan smile and followed Faramir over to a low bench under a tree. "The baby is a bit like having an oven inside of me, actually!" He paused, looking up at the man, feeling suddenly like making hobbity small-talk. "I do hope I can make it to Edoras for your betrothal, Faramir. I insist upon going, but I'm sure Aragorn will have other notions."
Making sure Frodo sat down, Faramir pulled a flask out of his coat and unstoppered it, wetting a cloth and then handing the flask to the hobbit. "Plain water---drink as much as you can." Seeing Frodo obey, Faramir smiled, dabbing the damp cloth over Frodo's face. "I do suspect Aragorn will have something to say about that, and I must agree that your attempting such a trip is not wise. Now, feeling any better? Allow me to see you back home. To Mithrandir's house?"
"Yes, thank you. But really, I'm feeling---" Suddenly his stomach lurched with nausea, and with a groan of despair Frodo realized the spun sugar he'd consumed was about to spin right out onto the open air. "I'm sorry, I---" Leaning over, he vomited onto the ground, dimly aware of Faramir behind him, holding Frodo's brow and chest with strong arms as Frodo convulsed.
When it was over, Frodo felt his cheeks redden with embarrassment, but Faramir's grip on him did not loosen. Instead, the man wiped Frodo's mouth with the damp cloth and rubbed his belly in light circles until the hobbit felt oriented enough to sit up a bit in his arms.
"I'm so ashamed," Frodo ranted, gulping. "Please forgive me, I was craving all these sweet foods at the market and over-indulged . . . I should have known better . . . "
"I suspect you are overheated, and that is what is making you ill," Faramir said, pressing the water flask to Frodo's lips again. "You are more susceptible to the afternoon sun, being small and with child. Drink up, and then I am going to carry you home, and no arguments."
Frodo nodded, sipping, and realized he'd never make it home on his own without seriously risking his health and the baby's. After a minute or two, Faramir made sure Frodo's tunic was loosened enough and easily hefted Frodo into his arms, carrying him comfortably against his chest but ever mindful of the hobbit's swollen belly.
"Seems I'm forever fainting or falling around you, Faramir . . . I do apologize," Frodo whispered, his eyelids growing heavy. He sighed as the man put the damp cloth on his chest---it felt so cool and heavenly.
"Sssssh. Go to sleep, now. You will be back in you own bed in short order." Frodo wasn't sure if he imagined it, but he thought Faramir kissed his brow just before he drifted off.
***
"And Frodo, if you ever find yourself wishing to indulge in market treats, all you have to do is ask and they shall be brought," Aragorn said, his face concerned but his eyes twinkling at the hobbit as he leaned down to kiss the corner of Frodo's mouth. "Having them every once in a while certainly cannot harm you or the child---in fact, for a hobbit, they may even be curative."
Frodo smiled up at him, blinking drowsily. He had woken up to find himself back in his soft bed, naked, cool sheets atop and below him and Aragorn and Faramir and Sam hovering over and bathing his face and neck. He'd been feverish, they said, and of course Aragorn had then insisted on taking his temperature with that horrible glass thing that had to be inserted into his bottom, which Frodo didn't much like. Especially when he felt so weak that turning over onto his side required several pairs of hands.
But Aragorn had pronounced his temperature to be at safe levels, and now the baby kicked vigorously inside him, letting Frodo know it was also unharmed by his excursion.
"I just wanted to get out for a bit," Frodo said now, yawning and stretching his aching back. "I shan't do it again."
"You are not a prisoner in this house, Frodo, but please, do not go by yourself and do not walk so far," Aragorn said, raising Frodo's head and making him drink something that tasted quite heavenly, rather like ripe red cherries. "Thank the Valar that Faramir found you when he did."
"Indeed," Faramir said, grinning. "Or I suspect Frodo might have gone back and lost more coin to the Lady Helgotha and Olithir the Great."
"Who're they?" Sam asked, puzzled.
Frodo turned to Faramir between sips of drink, giving the man a mock frown. "How did you know I did that?"
"Because no one can resist the fortune-tellers of Minas Tirith, and they especially like to prey on unsuspecting halflings hoping to learn the gender of the child they're carrying. Well, what was it? A male or female child for our king?"
"One said boy, the other girl." Frodo tried not to laugh, as it caused his head to ache. "I suppose they don't know what they're talking about, but it was an interesting experience either way." He looked over at Faramir. "Thank you for what you did for me . . . I would not have made it home on my own."
"It was my pleasure, dear Frodo," said Faramir, leaning over and clasping the hobbit's hand before rising. "And now, I must go back to my regular duties . . . take good care of him and the child, Aragorn."
"That I certainly shall. He is going to eat a bit and then be put back to sleep, and he'll remain in bed for the next few days at the very least."
Faramir nodded, his eyes soft as he looked at Frodo. Then the look was quickly gone, to be replaced by his usual stalwart countenance. And with a gentle rub to the mound of Frodo's stomach under the sheets, Faramir was gone as well.
The End