Middle Earth Continues Turning, part three (NC-17 F/A slash)
Have reached a sticking point with only 2779 words done for my nanowrimo story. Hmm. So, how about a change of pace, and more of this particular soap opera?
Frodo woke hot and sweaty, and felt oppressed by the heavy arm across his back. He tried to push away, and was seized by nausea. With great effort he freed himself in time to roll off their high bed, missing the footstool placed beside it and instead landing heavily on the cold floor. There, on his hands and knees, he vomited. When he tried to stand, he was sick again.
Then strong arms were holding him and Aragorn was calling for help. Frodo let them fuss for a few minutes, but only because he felt so weak. The chambermaid cleaned up his mess while Aragorn lifted him to the chaise, cleaned him with a warm, wet cloth, and tucked a warm robe around him.
The healer bustled in, still in his nightshirt, and the sight made Frodo giggle. At the sound, all the big folk in the room froze, looking askance at him. But the laugh turned to a moan, and Frodo grabbed the basin Aragorn had set beside him to vomit again. The healer, Aven, quickly moved to examine Frodo, his big hands gentle and sure.
"It would seem to be the mornings sickness, your majesty," the healer said. "I don’t pretend to understand how male hobbits bear children, and since I wasn't allowed to be part of Lord Frodo's treatment when he bore Princess Gilraen…"
"Yes, I know," Aragorn said impatiently, and Frodo wished they would just be quiet. His head ached.
"But if Lord Frodo were a woman, such illness in the early day would be normal. Sometimes eating small amounts of flatbread or toast upon waking will help."
Frodo moaned at the idea of eating, but Aragorn nodded.
"I'll have some toast brought for him now."
"Be sure he drinks juice and water, well-mixed. He must replace the fluids he has expelled." Aragorn motioned to the maid, who nodded and quickly left the room.
Aragorn showed the healer out with effusive thanks. When he returned to where Frodo reclined on the chaise, he said, "You are an alarming shade of green. Can you manage some toast and water?"
"I'll try," Frodo replied, sitting forward. His stomach felt hollow, and he was thirsty. But it was nothing like the pain that had wracked his body while he was carrying Hope. He smiled at Aragorn, who brought him a glass of water and helped him drink.
With the tray of toast came Wena, a worried frown creasing her brow.
"I'm fine," he assured her, but she examined him anyway, smoothing back his hair much the way he'd seen her sooth Hope after a bad dream. She looked into his eyes, felt his face, and touched his hands and ankles while he slowly chewed a few bites of the unbuttered bread.
"You must eat small meals now, Frodo, as frequently as possible. Eating in the night and early in the morning should help settle your stomach. And there's a cordial Denier brews which is soothing to the stomach. I'll make some to keep here in your room."
"That would be very helpful, Wenathen," Aragorn said. "But Aven seems to have his nose out of joint because he was not involved in Frodo's care during the last pregnancy. Can you include him this time?"
"I shall endeavor to please you, Lord Elessar," she said. "At least, so long as Frodo's symptoms remain normal."
She left then, and Aragorn stood looking after her, his brow creased with puzzlement. "Frodo, does Wena seem... altered?"
"I'm afraid she is angry, love, with both of us. My state worries her, as I feared it would." He shifted on the chair, and took another small bite of toast. It tasted wonderful, despite his earlier fears. "When she first saw me, she called us beasts incapable of self-control."
Aragorn stared at him for a moment, then a short laugh escaped him. "That night -- you waited until she left for Lorien, didn't you? You didn't seduce me until she was no longer in the Citadel."
"Seduce you?" Frodo exclaimed. "I'd been sleeping in your bed and engaging in every other form of pleasure imaginable -- and some I think you must have dreamed up yourself, because they certainly weren't found in ancient Elvish texts! I hardly needed to seduce you." He folded his arms across his chest and tried to pout, but the laughter and lusty invitation in Aragorn's eyes undid him.
Frodo blushed and hastily swallowed some water. "Well, it's just that the elves have such sensitive hearing," he admitted, and had the breath almost squeezed out of him by his laughing king.
*** *** ***
"Master Baggins!" Gimli embraced Frodo quite carefully, Legolas noted, despite his hearty shout. "It seems you're finally looking like a true hobbit!"
Frodo was round. His belly was enormous -- well, they'd expected that just from the gossip overheard as they neared the city. And they'd seen Frodo swollen with child before. Legolas knelt and embraced Frodo in turn, looking deep in his eyes and finding only bubbling happiness.
Not only was his womb -- well, no one really knew where male hobbits carried children, but it seemed sensible to call it that -- not only was his womb enormous, far more swollen than it had been even in the last months of carrying Hope, but the rest of his body was covered in excess flesh. His face was rounded, ruddy cheeked -- and he seemed to be bursting with health and energy, moving swiftly and gracefully despite the added bulk.
He blushed under Legolas' steady gaze. "I know I'm horribly fat, but I'm so hungry all the time! Wena told me to eat often, and indulge myself."
"Indeed, elves believe the body knows what nourishment you require, and is demanding what you need to safely bear your child," Legolas agreed with a smile.
"And, perhaps, you are making up for the last time," Gimli added. "Fearing that a time will come when you cannot have all you wish."
Legolas frowned at this tactless reminder of past horrors, but Frodo eagerly nodded. "Oh, yes. If I have to stay in bed again, or even be put in the healing sleep, my body will be well-prepared."
That was startling. "Does Wena think you'll need such extreme measures again?"
"She doesn't know, truly. Everything is so different this time." Frodo smiled at them both. "I'm so pleased you've returned at last. Aragorn must see you immediately, of course. Let me show you the way. He's sparring with some of the Citadel guards."
"On duty or off?" Gimli asked with a hearty laugh as they followed Frodo through the hallways, up a half-stair, and then through several shorter corridors.
"He used to train with his men on the Pelannor, just outside the city walls, or near the Guard barracks on the fourth level. But crowds would form, watching the King, and it became distracting because they were actually choosing sides and cheering for them."
"And betting, I've no doubt. Most of the men of Gondor seem to like a good wager as much as their ale," Gimli rumbled approvingly.
"Most likely they were," Frodo laughed, and Legolas felt a stab of pain in his heart. "So Aragorn and I had these rooms cleared out, and parts of the walls removed by the masons. It's a large enough space for sword training and exercise, and for Hope to play with her friends in the rainy season, when she's been cooped up inside too long. It's perfectly safe, for all the weapons are stored in a locked cabinet," Frodo explained just as they reached a large double door with no guard posted.
The clashing sound of swords meeting in fierce blows could be heard from behind the door.
"We must wait until they disengage," Frodo announced. "They move so freely it's not safe to enter until the combat ends."
Legolas nodded, though Gimli grumbled under his breath that he could easily deflect any stray blows with his axe.
Frodo smiled up at him, and Legolas again felt himself a betrayer. "Ah, but the poor guards have no skill in defending themselves from such fierce warriors as dwarves, Gimli. You'd likely put them out of commission for a month or more."
"Indeed." Gimli looked so very pleased with himself Legolas knew he'd managed to completely forget the tidings they carried to Aragorn from Harad. There would be war within the month, and Aragorn would need to call out the strength of Gondor, as well as enlisting his allies for aid. Despite years of recruiting and training men, the armies of Gondor were not yet at full muster. Sauron's legions had slaughtered recklessly, and too many houses in Minas Tirith remained empty and barren.
The sounds from within the room ended and voices could be heard. Frodo knocked, then opened the door carefully. "Aragorn, your ambassadors have returned," he announced with a smile.
They followed the hobbit into a spacious room where the King of the West and his men stood bare-chested and sweating in oft-mended leggings, arms dragged down by heavy swords. But Aragorn's face lit up when he saw them, only to change when he embraced Legolas and read the news in his eyes.
"Excuse me, gentlemen," Aragorn said to the assembled guards. "I wish to hear this report immediately." One of the younger men carefully accepted the king's practice blade, and they all moved off to clean and store the weapons while Aragorn dried his face with a towel. "Frodo, love, you can expect us for tea," he added, stooping to gently kiss the hobbit, his hand tenderly cupping the swollen flesh of Frodo's belly.
When Frodo said farewell, Legolas and Gimli followed Aragorn as he quickly changed into more regal garb, then led them to his council room. From the window there, Legolas could see Frodo in the courtyard with Hope and Wena, bundled together in cloaks and sitting on the bench before the White Tree, playing a game and laughing merrily.
Frodo woke hot and sweaty, and felt oppressed by the heavy arm across his back. He tried to push away, and was seized by nausea. With great effort he freed himself in time to roll off their high bed, missing the footstool placed beside it and instead landing heavily on the cold floor. There, on his hands and knees, he vomited. When he tried to stand, he was sick again.
Then strong arms were holding him and Aragorn was calling for help. Frodo let them fuss for a few minutes, but only because he felt so weak. The chambermaid cleaned up his mess while Aragorn lifted him to the chaise, cleaned him with a warm, wet cloth, and tucked a warm robe around him.
The healer bustled in, still in his nightshirt, and the sight made Frodo giggle. At the sound, all the big folk in the room froze, looking askance at him. But the laugh turned to a moan, and Frodo grabbed the basin Aragorn had set beside him to vomit again. The healer, Aven, quickly moved to examine Frodo, his big hands gentle and sure.
"It would seem to be the mornings sickness, your majesty," the healer said. "I don’t pretend to understand how male hobbits bear children, and since I wasn't allowed to be part of Lord Frodo's treatment when he bore Princess Gilraen…"
"Yes, I know," Aragorn said impatiently, and Frodo wished they would just be quiet. His head ached.
"But if Lord Frodo were a woman, such illness in the early day would be normal. Sometimes eating small amounts of flatbread or toast upon waking will help."
Frodo moaned at the idea of eating, but Aragorn nodded.
"I'll have some toast brought for him now."
"Be sure he drinks juice and water, well-mixed. He must replace the fluids he has expelled." Aragorn motioned to the maid, who nodded and quickly left the room.
Aragorn showed the healer out with effusive thanks. When he returned to where Frodo reclined on the chaise, he said, "You are an alarming shade of green. Can you manage some toast and water?"
"I'll try," Frodo replied, sitting forward. His stomach felt hollow, and he was thirsty. But it was nothing like the pain that had wracked his body while he was carrying Hope. He smiled at Aragorn, who brought him a glass of water and helped him drink.
With the tray of toast came Wena, a worried frown creasing her brow.
"I'm fine," he assured her, but she examined him anyway, smoothing back his hair much the way he'd seen her sooth Hope after a bad dream. She looked into his eyes, felt his face, and touched his hands and ankles while he slowly chewed a few bites of the unbuttered bread.
"You must eat small meals now, Frodo, as frequently as possible. Eating in the night and early in the morning should help settle your stomach. And there's a cordial Denier brews which is soothing to the stomach. I'll make some to keep here in your room."
"That would be very helpful, Wenathen," Aragorn said. "But Aven seems to have his nose out of joint because he was not involved in Frodo's care during the last pregnancy. Can you include him this time?"
"I shall endeavor to please you, Lord Elessar," she said. "At least, so long as Frodo's symptoms remain normal."
She left then, and Aragorn stood looking after her, his brow creased with puzzlement. "Frodo, does Wena seem... altered?"
"I'm afraid she is angry, love, with both of us. My state worries her, as I feared it would." He shifted on the chair, and took another small bite of toast. It tasted wonderful, despite his earlier fears. "When she first saw me, she called us beasts incapable of self-control."
Aragorn stared at him for a moment, then a short laugh escaped him. "That night -- you waited until she left for Lorien, didn't you? You didn't seduce me until she was no longer in the Citadel."
"Seduce you?" Frodo exclaimed. "I'd been sleeping in your bed and engaging in every other form of pleasure imaginable -- and some I think you must have dreamed up yourself, because they certainly weren't found in ancient Elvish texts! I hardly needed to seduce you." He folded his arms across his chest and tried to pout, but the laughter and lusty invitation in Aragorn's eyes undid him.
Frodo blushed and hastily swallowed some water. "Well, it's just that the elves have such sensitive hearing," he admitted, and had the breath almost squeezed out of him by his laughing king.
*** *** ***
"Master Baggins!" Gimli embraced Frodo quite carefully, Legolas noted, despite his hearty shout. "It seems you're finally looking like a true hobbit!"
Frodo was round. His belly was enormous -- well, they'd expected that just from the gossip overheard as they neared the city. And they'd seen Frodo swollen with child before. Legolas knelt and embraced Frodo in turn, looking deep in his eyes and finding only bubbling happiness.
Not only was his womb -- well, no one really knew where male hobbits carried children, but it seemed sensible to call it that -- not only was his womb enormous, far more swollen than it had been even in the last months of carrying Hope, but the rest of his body was covered in excess flesh. His face was rounded, ruddy cheeked -- and he seemed to be bursting with health and energy, moving swiftly and gracefully despite the added bulk.
He blushed under Legolas' steady gaze. "I know I'm horribly fat, but I'm so hungry all the time! Wena told me to eat often, and indulge myself."
"Indeed, elves believe the body knows what nourishment you require, and is demanding what you need to safely bear your child," Legolas agreed with a smile.
"And, perhaps, you are making up for the last time," Gimli added. "Fearing that a time will come when you cannot have all you wish."
Legolas frowned at this tactless reminder of past horrors, but Frodo eagerly nodded. "Oh, yes. If I have to stay in bed again, or even be put in the healing sleep, my body will be well-prepared."
That was startling. "Does Wena think you'll need such extreme measures again?"
"She doesn't know, truly. Everything is so different this time." Frodo smiled at them both. "I'm so pleased you've returned at last. Aragorn must see you immediately, of course. Let me show you the way. He's sparring with some of the Citadel guards."
"On duty or off?" Gimli asked with a hearty laugh as they followed Frodo through the hallways, up a half-stair, and then through several shorter corridors.
"He used to train with his men on the Pelannor, just outside the city walls, or near the Guard barracks on the fourth level. But crowds would form, watching the King, and it became distracting because they were actually choosing sides and cheering for them."
"And betting, I've no doubt. Most of the men of Gondor seem to like a good wager as much as their ale," Gimli rumbled approvingly.
"Most likely they were," Frodo laughed, and Legolas felt a stab of pain in his heart. "So Aragorn and I had these rooms cleared out, and parts of the walls removed by the masons. It's a large enough space for sword training and exercise, and for Hope to play with her friends in the rainy season, when she's been cooped up inside too long. It's perfectly safe, for all the weapons are stored in a locked cabinet," Frodo explained just as they reached a large double door with no guard posted.
The clashing sound of swords meeting in fierce blows could be heard from behind the door.
"We must wait until they disengage," Frodo announced. "They move so freely it's not safe to enter until the combat ends."
Legolas nodded, though Gimli grumbled under his breath that he could easily deflect any stray blows with his axe.
Frodo smiled up at him, and Legolas again felt himself a betrayer. "Ah, but the poor guards have no skill in defending themselves from such fierce warriors as dwarves, Gimli. You'd likely put them out of commission for a month or more."
"Indeed." Gimli looked so very pleased with himself Legolas knew he'd managed to completely forget the tidings they carried to Aragorn from Harad. There would be war within the month, and Aragorn would need to call out the strength of Gondor, as well as enlisting his allies for aid. Despite years of recruiting and training men, the armies of Gondor were not yet at full muster. Sauron's legions had slaughtered recklessly, and too many houses in Minas Tirith remained empty and barren.
The sounds from within the room ended and voices could be heard. Frodo knocked, then opened the door carefully. "Aragorn, your ambassadors have returned," he announced with a smile.
They followed the hobbit into a spacious room where the King of the West and his men stood bare-chested and sweating in oft-mended leggings, arms dragged down by heavy swords. But Aragorn's face lit up when he saw them, only to change when he embraced Legolas and read the news in his eyes.
"Excuse me, gentlemen," Aragorn said to the assembled guards. "I wish to hear this report immediately." One of the younger men carefully accepted the king's practice blade, and they all moved off to clean and store the weapons while Aragorn dried his face with a towel. "Frodo, love, you can expect us for tea," he added, stooping to gently kiss the hobbit, his hand tenderly cupping the swollen flesh of Frodo's belly.
When Frodo said farewell, Legolas and Gimli followed Aragorn as he quickly changed into more regal garb, then led them to his council room. From the window there, Legolas could see Frodo in the courtyard with Hope and Wena, bundled together in cloaks and sitting on the bench before the White Tree, playing a game and laughing merrily.