A Fine Mess (8/8) R (Frodo/Aragorn)
Jun. 14th, 2011 02:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
moit_ficsTitle: A Fine Mess - Chapter 8/8
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
moit
Summary: After taking a walk, a pregnant Frodo finds himself at the mercy of a camp of rangers.
Rating: R
Pairing: Frodo/Sam, Frodo/Aragorn
Genre: Drama, angst
Warnings: Yaoi/Slash, mpreg
Word Count: 887
Previous chapters here.
Despite the tears rolling down his face, Sam immediately bent down to start cleaning up the glass shards.
"Don't know what's gotten in to me," he muttered. "I've got butter hands today."
Strider gently slid Frodo off his lap. Crossing the room, he took Sam's hands in his own and shook the glass back onto the floor. "You'll cut yourself, Master Samwise. Let me take care of that." He lifted Sam up off the floor to keep him from cutting the soles of his feet and sat him in a chair across the room from Frodo.
Sam sniffled and stared forlornly at Frodo, Frodo kept his gaze steadily on the ground, and Strider swept up the broken glass. He also ran a towel over the ground to sop up the tea.
When the floor was clean, Strider dragged a man-sized chair into the room and sat down between Frodo and Sam.
"We need to talk about this, or nothing is going to get solved."
Frodo and Sam remained silent.
"All right, then," Strider said, "I'll start. Sam, I want you to know that I did not come here with the intention of taking Frodo away from you."
"Then why did you come?" Frodo asked, crestfallen.
"Because I asked Merry to send for him!" Sam shouted, his tears finally coming to an end. "I thought you were dying!"
"I am!"
"You're not dying, Frodo. You're just confused," Strider cut in. "This sort of thing happens when one loses a child."
"I'm not confused."
"Well, with him here, you're certainly not getting any better," Sam growled.
"Just, tell me," Frodo ground out. "Tell me, Strider, that you don't desire me, and I'll let you go on your way."
For a long moment, Strider just looked between Sam and Frodo.
"Tell him, Strider," Sam said, almost desperately. "Tell him you don't desire him."
Finally, Strider's gaze settled on Sam's tear-stained face. "I'm afraid I cannot do that, Master Samwise."
Sam's bottom lip quivered, but he did not cry. "All right, then," he said. "All right." He stood up and looked around the room. He took a step forward and a step back. Clearly, he had no idea what to do.
"Sam," Frodo said softly.
"No," Sam said, shaking his head. "I am going to pack my things, and I'll be gone. I have no business being here any longer."
Frodo watched morosely as Sam skittered about the smial, gathering his belongings. He didn't have much--Frodo had all the necessities of a house.
When his bag was packed, Sam gave Strider and Frodo one final teary-eyed smile and he was gone.
"I do not think you should have done that," Strider said.
"But don't you see?" Frodo asked, sliding off the bed. He crossed the room and took Strider's much larger hands in his own smaller ones. "Now we can be together. We don't have to worry about Sam. It's okay now."
"Frodo, I am not what you have imagined. I am not going to come home for dinner every night like Sam. My life is hard and I live among the trees in the forest. That is not the life you want for yourself."
"And who are you to presume to tell me what I want?" Frodo asked, drawing himself up to his full height. "Maybe I want to have an adventure! Maybe I want to live dangerously! And just maybe I want to get away from this blasted Hobbit hole and the blasted Hobbits I live with!"
Strider pursed his lips. Although his better sense as telling him to keep Frodo as far away from his lifestyle as possible, he could not deny the desires of his heart.
"Very well, Frodo, you may come with me."
*
One year later
"Frodo! Are you home?" Stride called, as he stepped into the cabin.
"I'm here," Frodo said, stepping out from the bedroom. "I was just finishing up the wash."
"I told you not to do that," Strider said, a pucker appearing between his eyebrows.
"I had help," Frodo said. He finished folding one of Strider's shirts and set it on the table. He sat down heavily. In his eighth month of pregnancy, simple tasks had become increasingly difficult, but he was determined to do as much as he could.
Still frowning, Strider pulled Frodo's feet into his lap. "Just promise me you're taking it easy. I don't want to see you lose this child."
"You're only saying that because it's yours," Frodo said. He groaned in pleasure as Strider dug his thumbs into the sole of one of Frodo's feet. "My poor feet are so swollen lately."
"They're certainly larger than normal, and that's saying something." He ran a hand through the hair on the top of Frodo's foot fondly. "Any bigger and fear you'll be unable to walk."
"If I get any bigger, I fear I'll be unable to walk!" Frodo chuckled. He rested his hands against his rounded belly, rubbing it gently. He'd gotten so big, he had to make due with wearing Strider's nightshirts, but he didn't mind.
Their babe came on a warm summer night. A half-Hobbit lass with Strider's eyes and Frodo's nose. They named her Constance, and she was the most precious thing in their lives.
Author:
moitSummary: After taking a walk, a pregnant Frodo finds himself at the mercy of a camp of rangers.
Rating: R
Pairing: Frodo/Sam, Frodo/Aragorn
Genre: Drama, angst
Warnings: Yaoi/Slash, mpreg
Word Count: 887
Previous chapters here.
Despite the tears rolling down his face, Sam immediately bent down to start cleaning up the glass shards.
"Don't know what's gotten in to me," he muttered. "I've got butter hands today."
Strider gently slid Frodo off his lap. Crossing the room, he took Sam's hands in his own and shook the glass back onto the floor. "You'll cut yourself, Master Samwise. Let me take care of that." He lifted Sam up off the floor to keep him from cutting the soles of his feet and sat him in a chair across the room from Frodo.
Sam sniffled and stared forlornly at Frodo, Frodo kept his gaze steadily on the ground, and Strider swept up the broken glass. He also ran a towel over the ground to sop up the tea.
When the floor was clean, Strider dragged a man-sized chair into the room and sat down between Frodo and Sam.
"We need to talk about this, or nothing is going to get solved."
Frodo and Sam remained silent.
"All right, then," Strider said, "I'll start. Sam, I want you to know that I did not come here with the intention of taking Frodo away from you."
"Then why did you come?" Frodo asked, crestfallen.
"Because I asked Merry to send for him!" Sam shouted, his tears finally coming to an end. "I thought you were dying!"
"I am!"
"You're not dying, Frodo. You're just confused," Strider cut in. "This sort of thing happens when one loses a child."
"I'm not confused."
"Well, with him here, you're certainly not getting any better," Sam growled.
"Just, tell me," Frodo ground out. "Tell me, Strider, that you don't desire me, and I'll let you go on your way."
For a long moment, Strider just looked between Sam and Frodo.
"Tell him, Strider," Sam said, almost desperately. "Tell him you don't desire him."
Finally, Strider's gaze settled on Sam's tear-stained face. "I'm afraid I cannot do that, Master Samwise."
Sam's bottom lip quivered, but he did not cry. "All right, then," he said. "All right." He stood up and looked around the room. He took a step forward and a step back. Clearly, he had no idea what to do.
"Sam," Frodo said softly.
"No," Sam said, shaking his head. "I am going to pack my things, and I'll be gone. I have no business being here any longer."
Frodo watched morosely as Sam skittered about the smial, gathering his belongings. He didn't have much--Frodo had all the necessities of a house.
When his bag was packed, Sam gave Strider and Frodo one final teary-eyed smile and he was gone.
"I do not think you should have done that," Strider said.
"But don't you see?" Frodo asked, sliding off the bed. He crossed the room and took Strider's much larger hands in his own smaller ones. "Now we can be together. We don't have to worry about Sam. It's okay now."
"Frodo, I am not what you have imagined. I am not going to come home for dinner every night like Sam. My life is hard and I live among the trees in the forest. That is not the life you want for yourself."
"And who are you to presume to tell me what I want?" Frodo asked, drawing himself up to his full height. "Maybe I want to have an adventure! Maybe I want to live dangerously! And just maybe I want to get away from this blasted Hobbit hole and the blasted Hobbits I live with!"
Strider pursed his lips. Although his better sense as telling him to keep Frodo as far away from his lifestyle as possible, he could not deny the desires of his heart.
"Very well, Frodo, you may come with me."
*
One year later
"Frodo! Are you home?" Stride called, as he stepped into the cabin.
"I'm here," Frodo said, stepping out from the bedroom. "I was just finishing up the wash."
"I told you not to do that," Strider said, a pucker appearing between his eyebrows.
"I had help," Frodo said. He finished folding one of Strider's shirts and set it on the table. He sat down heavily. In his eighth month of pregnancy, simple tasks had become increasingly difficult, but he was determined to do as much as he could.
Still frowning, Strider pulled Frodo's feet into his lap. "Just promise me you're taking it easy. I don't want to see you lose this child."
"You're only saying that because it's yours," Frodo said. He groaned in pleasure as Strider dug his thumbs into the sole of one of Frodo's feet. "My poor feet are so swollen lately."
"They're certainly larger than normal, and that's saying something." He ran a hand through the hair on the top of Frodo's foot fondly. "Any bigger and fear you'll be unable to walk."
"If I get any bigger, I fear I'll be unable to walk!" Frodo chuckled. He rested his hands against his rounded belly, rubbing it gently. He'd gotten so big, he had to make due with wearing Strider's nightshirts, but he didn't mind.
Their babe came on a warm summer night. A half-Hobbit lass with Strider's eyes and Frodo's nose. They named her Constance, and she was the most precious thing in their lives.
