lilybaggins FroPreg Challenge -- PART II (oh dear)
Here’s Part II of my response to lilybaggins Frodo mpreg Challenge. (Part I can be found at my July 1 listing.)
Untitled
Part 2/? (I still have no idea what I'm doing)
Rated: PG-13
Characters: Frodo, Aragorn, Legolas, Sam, Merry, Pippin, Gimli
Aragorn, Sam, and Legolas entered the dwelling where Frodo had been held captive. Legolas immediately walked over to the blanket-covered bodies on the floor, and checked to ensure that the covered Men were, indeed, dead. Then he moved soundlessly about the large, dirty room, ensuring that nothing and no one was hiding anywhere about.
Meanwhile, Sam’s eye was caught by a pallet on the floor, under a shuttered window, which had several ropes tied to it. The ends of the ropes were in shreds, cut and scattered.
“He was tied there,” said Aragorn. “It was when I cut the ropes that the Men attacked me.”
“Where is he?” Sam asked anxiously.
Aragorn gestured to a curtained-off area of the room. He walked over to it and drew the curtains back, and Sam saw Frodo lying asleep in a large bed. He was clad in a shirt that doubtless belonged to one of the dead Men, and was curled on his right side. Sam climbed up on the bed and sat next to Frodo.
Sam touched Frodo’s face, which he hadn’t seen in nearly three months. His fingers traced old, fading bruises on the fair skin, and there were dark shadows under Frodo’s eyes. His breath caught at the sight of recent rope burns on Frodo’s left wrist, and one, nearly faded, about his throat. He turned to Aragorn with eyes blazing.
“I would have killed them, too,” the hobbit muttered.
Legolas sat down next to Sam and gazed down at Frodo, his eyes full of pain. He gently brushed the dark, tumbled curls back from the hobbit’s face.
“Aragorn,” he said softly, “may we see…?”
Aragorn nodded. He joined them on the bed and gently pushed up the large shirt, uncovering Frodo’s legs and abdomen. Sam and Legolas both stared, astounded, at the rounded swelling of Frodo’s belly.
“Poor Mr. Frodo,” Sam murmured. “Is he hurt, otherwise? Beyond what we’ve seen, I mean.”
Aragorn pulled the shirt back down over Frodo’s body. “I only checked him over for a moment, once he was asleep,” he answered. “I found no signs of broken bones, or malnutrition, although he’s definitely lost some weight. He seems physically healthy, or will be, when his bruises heal. It’s his emotional well being that worries me.”
“Emotional?” asked Sam. He had not stopped stroking Frodo’s face, as, in the light sleep, his master seemed to respond to the gentle, soothing touches.
“Even after I was certain he recognized me, he was barely coherent, Sam.” Aragorn got to his feet and paced back and forth angrily. “From what little I could understand, he wasn’t sure if he was still being held captive in that Tower…” Sam gasped, tears filling his eyes. “…or even if all of this…” Aragorn gestured to the unspeakably filthy room, “…was real. This ordeal, after all he’s been through, has been an enormous shock. He was still recovering from Mordor when he was abducted.”
“Mr. Frodo’s tougher than that, Strider,” declared Sam.
“You may be correct,” Aragorn agreed. His gaze fell on the blanket-covered bodies in the corner, then on some bottles and packets lying about on one of the tables. “There are herbs here that, mixed in certain doses, can keep a person docile, and somewhat unsure about what is real; they are commonly used, in these parts, to keep a prisoner from becoming violent or causing trouble. These Men may have been feeding Frodo small amounts to keep him from attempting any escape, and that may be why he is confused.” He took a deep breath and looked at his two companions gravely. “In any event, we’re going to have to be very careful with what we say and do for awhile.”
“What do you fear?” asked Legolas. “Surely being free, and back among us, will show him that this is over, and that he is safe? Even if they used such herbs on him, will the effects not fade quickly?”
“There are additional concerns,” said Aragorn quietly. “Sam, have you also heard those Shire tales that Merry mentioned? Of other male hobbits with child?”
“Yes, but just bits of gossip. Old stories, really.”
“Would Frodo have heard those stories?”
Sam looked at Aragorn, his eyes growing wide. “I… maybe not.” He frowned. “Mr. Frodo was away from the Shire so often -- at first with Mr. Bilbo on trips, and later he would go off on his own -- and he lived alone for so long…” Sam looked thoughtful. “Mr. Frodo was never one for much socializin’ or listenin’ to gossip.”
“Aragorn,” said Legolas worriedly, “do you say that Frodo might not understand what has happened to him? About a child growing within him?”
“Yes. We need to be very careful with what we say, until we’re sure he understands what has occurred.”
“And then what?” asked Sam.
“I do not know,” sighed Aragorn. “For now, we just need to bring him safely back to Minas Tirith where he can be tended properly.”
‘He just needs to be out of here.” Sam hopped off the bed. “Some cleanin’ up, and hot food, and all of us with him… that’s all it’ll take, you’ll see. He’ll know he’s safe when he sees us.”
Aragorn nodded slowly. “If it is the herbs, and nothing worse, any confusion should be gone by morning. I need to thoroughly examine him, and I’ll not wake him until that is done. There should be enough water heated by now for us to bathe him and make him comfortable.” He lifted the sleeping hobbit. Frodo shifted restlessly and whimpered, clutching at Aragorn’s tunic. Legolas bent close and whispered some soft words, and Frodo relaxed and lay quietly, cradled in the arms of his king.
“Strider, you’re lookin’ a bit pale,” said Sam, concerned.
“Your arm is still bleeding,” observed Legolas. “We need to---”
“It’s nothing,” Aragorn assured them. “One of the men had a concealed knife. I’ll tend to it later.” He turned to Legolas. “Could you look around, Legolas? See if any of Frodo’s belongings are here.” The Elf nodded.
As Aragorn carried Frodo out of the house, Sam turned for one last, angry look at the blanket-covered bodies, and the ropes that had held his dear master captive. Then he turned abruptly and left.
Untitled
Part 2/? (I still have no idea what I'm doing)
Rated: PG-13
Characters: Frodo, Aragorn, Legolas, Sam, Merry, Pippin, Gimli
Aragorn, Sam, and Legolas entered the dwelling where Frodo had been held captive. Legolas immediately walked over to the blanket-covered bodies on the floor, and checked to ensure that the covered Men were, indeed, dead. Then he moved soundlessly about the large, dirty room, ensuring that nothing and no one was hiding anywhere about.
Meanwhile, Sam’s eye was caught by a pallet on the floor, under a shuttered window, which had several ropes tied to it. The ends of the ropes were in shreds, cut and scattered.
“He was tied there,” said Aragorn. “It was when I cut the ropes that the Men attacked me.”
“Where is he?” Sam asked anxiously.
Aragorn gestured to a curtained-off area of the room. He walked over to it and drew the curtains back, and Sam saw Frodo lying asleep in a large bed. He was clad in a shirt that doubtless belonged to one of the dead Men, and was curled on his right side. Sam climbed up on the bed and sat next to Frodo.
Sam touched Frodo’s face, which he hadn’t seen in nearly three months. His fingers traced old, fading bruises on the fair skin, and there were dark shadows under Frodo’s eyes. His breath caught at the sight of recent rope burns on Frodo’s left wrist, and one, nearly faded, about his throat. He turned to Aragorn with eyes blazing.
“I would have killed them, too,” the hobbit muttered.
Legolas sat down next to Sam and gazed down at Frodo, his eyes full of pain. He gently brushed the dark, tumbled curls back from the hobbit’s face.
“Aragorn,” he said softly, “may we see…?”
Aragorn nodded. He joined them on the bed and gently pushed up the large shirt, uncovering Frodo’s legs and abdomen. Sam and Legolas both stared, astounded, at the rounded swelling of Frodo’s belly.
“Poor Mr. Frodo,” Sam murmured. “Is he hurt, otherwise? Beyond what we’ve seen, I mean.”
Aragorn pulled the shirt back down over Frodo’s body. “I only checked him over for a moment, once he was asleep,” he answered. “I found no signs of broken bones, or malnutrition, although he’s definitely lost some weight. He seems physically healthy, or will be, when his bruises heal. It’s his emotional well being that worries me.”
“Emotional?” asked Sam. He had not stopped stroking Frodo’s face, as, in the light sleep, his master seemed to respond to the gentle, soothing touches.
“Even after I was certain he recognized me, he was barely coherent, Sam.” Aragorn got to his feet and paced back and forth angrily. “From what little I could understand, he wasn’t sure if he was still being held captive in that Tower…” Sam gasped, tears filling his eyes. “…or even if all of this…” Aragorn gestured to the unspeakably filthy room, “…was real. This ordeal, after all he’s been through, has been an enormous shock. He was still recovering from Mordor when he was abducted.”
“Mr. Frodo’s tougher than that, Strider,” declared Sam.
“You may be correct,” Aragorn agreed. His gaze fell on the blanket-covered bodies in the corner, then on some bottles and packets lying about on one of the tables. “There are herbs here that, mixed in certain doses, can keep a person docile, and somewhat unsure about what is real; they are commonly used, in these parts, to keep a prisoner from becoming violent or causing trouble. These Men may have been feeding Frodo small amounts to keep him from attempting any escape, and that may be why he is confused.” He took a deep breath and looked at his two companions gravely. “In any event, we’re going to have to be very careful with what we say and do for awhile.”
“What do you fear?” asked Legolas. “Surely being free, and back among us, will show him that this is over, and that he is safe? Even if they used such herbs on him, will the effects not fade quickly?”
“There are additional concerns,” said Aragorn quietly. “Sam, have you also heard those Shire tales that Merry mentioned? Of other male hobbits with child?”
“Yes, but just bits of gossip. Old stories, really.”
“Would Frodo have heard those stories?”
Sam looked at Aragorn, his eyes growing wide. “I… maybe not.” He frowned. “Mr. Frodo was away from the Shire so often -- at first with Mr. Bilbo on trips, and later he would go off on his own -- and he lived alone for so long…” Sam looked thoughtful. “Mr. Frodo was never one for much socializin’ or listenin’ to gossip.”
“Aragorn,” said Legolas worriedly, “do you say that Frodo might not understand what has happened to him? About a child growing within him?”
“Yes. We need to be very careful with what we say, until we’re sure he understands what has occurred.”
“And then what?” asked Sam.
“I do not know,” sighed Aragorn. “For now, we just need to bring him safely back to Minas Tirith where he can be tended properly.”
‘He just needs to be out of here.” Sam hopped off the bed. “Some cleanin’ up, and hot food, and all of us with him… that’s all it’ll take, you’ll see. He’ll know he’s safe when he sees us.”
Aragorn nodded slowly. “If it is the herbs, and nothing worse, any confusion should be gone by morning. I need to thoroughly examine him, and I’ll not wake him until that is done. There should be enough water heated by now for us to bathe him and make him comfortable.” He lifted the sleeping hobbit. Frodo shifted restlessly and whimpered, clutching at Aragorn’s tunic. Legolas bent close and whispered some soft words, and Frodo relaxed and lay quietly, cradled in the arms of his king.
“Strider, you’re lookin’ a bit pale,” said Sam, concerned.
“Your arm is still bleeding,” observed Legolas. “We need to---”
“It’s nothing,” Aragorn assured them. “One of the men had a concealed knife. I’ll tend to it later.” He turned to Legolas. “Could you look around, Legolas? See if any of Frodo’s belongings are here.” The Elf nodded.
As Aragorn carried Frodo out of the house, Sam turned for one last, angry look at the blanket-covered bodies, and the ropes that had held his dear master captive. Then he turned abruptly and left.