New: A New Bloom (F/A) [NC-17]
Dec. 23rd, 2004 07:21 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
saklani2.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
lotr_sesaHi all!
This is my SESA story for [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com] who requested hot mpreg hobbit ficcy! I had never done mpreg, so I hope my results are satisfactory! I did my best for you, love!
Happy Holidays!
Saklani
Author: Saklani
Title: A New Bloom
Codes: Frodo/Aragorn for FPS Secret Santa
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Frodo learns he carries the heir to the throne of Gondor.
Disclaimer: Tolkein’s estate and New Line own everything! I am just a humble fic writer who writes because her Muse will not leave her alone. Money made? Yeah, right.
Feedback: HELL YEAH! to saklani@wildmail.com
Posting- Sure! Go ahead, just let me know where ya put it!
Author's Notes: This is my first mpreg! *gasp* I got a request from the lotr_sesa for hot mpreg hobbit, so I did my best to oblige! I hope this is what you wanted, Angie!! Happy Holidays!
Dedicated to: AngieT
A New Bloom
Above the white city of Minas Tirith, a pale moon shown through high clouds and spread its gauzy light down on those not yet asleep. The gentle rays fell lightly on the pale cheeks of Frodo Baggins as he stood on the highest battlement, gazing in the direction the Shire. Occasionally, he sighed softly, thinking of all behind him and wondering what lay ahead.
Days gradually turned to weeks since he and Samwise returned from Mt. Doom and the end of the Ring. When he dreamed, Frodo still heard its savage and bewitching call, seducing him away from everything he knew to be right and dear. He avoided sleep now, preferring to walk the corridors and towers then spend another night longing for the vile thing.
Frodo did not hear the footsteps behind him until a soft voice said, “I thought to find you here, Frodo Baggins.”
“Lady Arwen,” he gasped, turning to regard with wide, surprised eyes. “I- how-”
“I know your dreams to be restless and filled with much suffering and sorrow,” she said. “I have a gift for you that shall ease your weary heart and mind.”
Frodo looked down at his trembling hands, which twisted uselessly around each other. “You are most kind, Lady Arwen. Truly, anything you might suggest which might help me find peace would be most welcome.”
The Evenstar pendant suddenly filled his vision, as she said, “Then take this, Frodo Baggins, and the mortal life that I once thought to lead.”
His hands instinctively grasped the lovely jewel, even as his mind suddenly protested. “The mortal life you once thought to lead? But- I do not understand. Shall you not wed Strider and be the queen of this land?”
“No.” Arwen glided to the side of the battlement and faced the West. “No, that is not the path I must follow. I will go with my father and the rest of my people into the Undying Lands and dwell forever there.”
“And Strider?” Frodo asked, his voice quivering with emotion he tried desperately to hold back. He did not want her to know, could not let her see...
Her velvet cape swirled in a graceful arc as Arwen turned to regard him with knowing eyes. No trace of anger or judgment lingered in their depths. “His heart and fate entitle him to another. When the newly planted White Tree blossomed so soon, I knew my time with him to be ended. I feel no ill will toward him or the one who will bear the heirs to the throne. Love does not listen to reason or think on prior promises.”
“The- the- the heirs of Gondor?” Frodo stuttered, unsettled by the words and the calmness of Arwen’s demeanor. “Who shall bear them if not you?”
“You.”
The implications of this simple word hit Frodo hard. “That is impossible.”
“No, Frodo, it has already happened. Have you not been feeling ill in the mornings recently?” Her serene face split into a smile that outshone the celestial beauty of the moon.
“Yes, but I- I thought it was from being able to eat a diversity of foods again. Sam and I, we only ate lembas bread and water for so long... our stomachs were not used to anything else.”
“Yet he does not suffer from the ailment as you do,” Arwen noted gently.
The battlement suddenly became the only thing propping Frodo up as he fell back against the comforting stone. “I was weaker,” he said, but the argument failed to convince even him. He clutched the pendant to his chest, its presence comforting. “How is such a thing possible?”
“You are a magical being, Frodo Baggins, and the love between you and the King of Gondor is equally so. He confessed to me of his love for you the night of my arrival here, of how you consummated your relationship after you were well enough. He fully intended to go through with his oath to wed me, as I know you resigned to allow him. I cannot tell you how much I love the both of you more for it.” She pressed her right hand to his cheek. “My father and I shall leave tomorrow to return one last time to Rivendell. I bid thee adieu, savior of Middle Earth, and wish thee and Aragorn many, many years of happiness.” Bending, she kissed his forehead once and then vanished down the stone steps with a last gleam of auburn hair.
**********
The White Tree of Gondor blossomed in the warm spring sun , the delicate white petals attracting steady visitation by bees, whose buzzing seemed to herald the return of life to the once crumbling country. Some ten yards in front of the tree, the newly crowned King Aragorn sat, watching the insects with a secret pleasure. The elves, Elrond and Arwen amongst them, had taken their leave of him this morning, carrying with them the last remainders of his old life. Now, he looked forward to new beginnings.
A motion by the courtyard entrance distracted him, and he stood to bow and smile a greeting to Lady Eowyn. “Lady Eowyn, good day to you.”
“Please forgive me, your Majesty, if I am disturbing you. Lord Faramir told me of the glory of the tree, and I could not resist a visit.” Her shimmering green gown trailed behind her as she walked closer to examine the flowers. “Truly, he did not exaggerate.”
“You do not disturb me, Lady Eowyn. I was merely relaxing for a short time before returning to my advisors and new duties.” He pushed aside his cape, still discomforted by the plush velvet where naught but worn cloth used to hang.
One hand curled delicately around a bloom, Eowyn turned to regard him with understanding in her dark eyes. “I heard Lady Arwen decided to accompany her people to the West. My deepest sympathies to you on you loss, Your Majesty. Having found Lord Faramir, I know how keenly the loss must plague you.”
A moment of silence greeted her words, until Eowyn wondered if she needed to apologize for being forward and ill-mannered in her address. A sudden chuckle from the King startled her before she might speak.
“Your words are kindly meant, and I appreciate them for all their good intentions. However, you need not be concerned for my heart, Lady Eowyn. I do not suffer from her decision as you might think I should. Indeed, she and I were best parted, so I rejoice that she might live forever in the Undying Lands, while I remain here with the one who holds my heart in his dear hands.”
Curiosity warred with prudence and eventually won over Eowyn. “His hands?”
Rising, Aragorn walked over to the Tree and touched its bark reverently. “Have you not heard the legend of the Tree? When it blossoms, an heir to the throne of Gondor will be born.”
“My Lord Faramir did tell me the story of the Tree. I had thought Lady Arwen might bear your child, until the news of her departure reached me.” Lady Eowyn watched the strong hands of the King caress the bark and thought of the time when she hoped those hands might touch her in the same way. Indeed, she suffered greatly when she learned of his betrothal... until Faramir arrived to sweeten her days.
“Nay, though once I did think the same. The Tree blooms, an heir will be born- my heir- but not to Lady Arwen.” His mouth lifted into a smile, crinkling the immaculate beard that looked out of place on his battle worn face.
Eowyn waited with impatience, not quite daring to ask, but hoping he might tell her anyway. Only
the way she tugged at the hem of her gown signaled her feelings.
Sharp blue eyes catching the movement, Aragorn amusedly debated keeping her in suspense. Deciding such an action might be beneath a king, he said, “The savior of the world, Frodo Baggins carries my child.”
Had he declared an Uruk-Hai warrior his true love, Eowyn could not have felt any greater shock or disbelief. Her face flooded with emotion, though she vainly struggled to keep it schooled. “The Ringbearer?”
“Who more worthy in all the lands to help rule Gondor?” Aragorn asked, noting her shock without surprise. “He saved this land and all the others, why then should his heirs not rule over them for all time?”
Eowyn’s pale face flushed with shame, but her voice came out steady, “Of course, I would never think him unworthy of your love or the devotion of all people. I- I just did not know such a thing was possible. How might a hobbit, and a male one at that, bear your child?”
“Gandalf said magic flows in the blood of the Baggins lineage. Once I met Frodo, I knew this to be true. I began to love him not long after our first encounter in Bree, and by the time I met you, my love for him sang in my heart like the sweetest, but saddest, of songs.” His hand dropped from the Tree, as he turned and walked a few steps away from them. He gazed up into the sky, toward the sun, which shown unencumbered by clouds. “I never thought to have a chance to speak to him of my feeling, but when the eagles rescued him from Mordor, so pale, thin and weary, I knew I could not live the rest of my life without having told him. Imagine my joy when he returned my love... Even could he not bear me any children, I would spend the rest of life by his side.”
“Aye, tis how I feel of Lord Faramir,” Eowyn whispered.
They stood together in the courtyard, each thinking of their loves. A gentle breeze stirred the air, drifting with memories of losses, victories and hopes for the days to come.
Someone cleared his throat nearby, and both Aragorn and Eowyn turned toward the noise. “Excuse me, Your Majesty, My Lady, but I bear a request from Frodo Baggins that the King attend to him when he may. I do believe there is some urgency in the request.”
“Of course, please tell him I will be there directly,” Aragorn said, and the guard hastened off with his message. “Pray excuse me, Lady Eowyn.”
“Of course, Your Majesty,” she said with a deep curtsey.
Before he hurried away himself, he said, “My best hopes for you and Lord Faramir as well. I would be honored to perform your marriage vows.”
Pleasure shone in her lovely features. “Good Sir, that would be exactly as we wished for.”
He bowed to her and then vanished down the path, leaving Eowyn to gaze in renewed wonder at the White Tree.
**********
Until now, the quarters assigned to him always seemed too large to Frodo. Despite the custom made furniture Aragorn ordered designed for the hobbits, the room felt too large and airy for comfort. Frodo longed for the comfort of a hobbit hole, where everything seemed cozy and correctly proportioned. As he paced the floor, waiting for Aragorn to arrive, he suddenly desired a much wider space to move around.
A loud knock announced Aragorn’s arrival, and Frodo took several deep steadying breaths to calm his nerves and rabbiting heart. “Come in.” The entrance of the King, garbed in his royal finery, often stilled all activity in a room. For Frodo, the sight of his beloved galvanized him into action. His fears set aside, he rushed the man and leaped into his arms. “Strider.”
They kissed for a long moment, mouths fitted together as two puzzle pieces. When finally lack of air demanded parting, both gazed into each other’s eyes in silence. Aragorn carried Frodo to the window and seated himself on the nook there.
“You see whom truly rules this land, my Frodo. Call me, and everything shall be dropped so I might be by your side.” He pressed a kiss to the palm of a four-fingered hand. “How may I serve thee?”
Gazing into steel eyes, Frodo briefly lost the use of his voice. Their entwined hands, the feel of a strong body against his, the love he felt between them- these miracles robbed him of his ability to do anything but wonder that such unbelievable things were true. Except, he now found himself with something even more incredible to ask, “Strider, is it true? Am I to have your child?”
A large, warm hand settled tenderly on Frodo’s stomach and rubbed there gently. “So Elrond and Gandalf do tell me. How did you find out? They were discussing only this morning, before Elrond left for Rivendell, when to reveal the truth to you.”
“Lady Arwen told me,” Frodo said.
Concern etched into Aragorn’s strong features, and he pressed a kiss to Frodo’s brow. “How do you feel about this, my Frodo?”
A silence of several moments descended, as Frodo considered the question carefully. “I- I am frightened, Strider, for many reasons. You have yet to announce to your subjects that Lady Arwen shall not be your bride.... and I still wonder how they will accept a hobbit- me- in her place. And how am I to carry a child? Or give birth? You are so much bigger than I am... how large shall the child be?” As his questions continued, his voice rose in fear into it wavered tremulously at the highest pitch.
“Hush, hush, my love,” Aragorn soothed. He kissed Frodo silent. “We shall deal with these as they come. First, I plan to announce to my advisors of my choice of partner, but I must ask you something most important, Frodo Baggins. Will you perform a wedding ceremony with me and dwell by my side in this life and the next?”
“You- you are asking me to marry you!” Frodo said with a gasp of delight. “Oh yes, yes, I want nothing more to be yours, Strider.”
From his tunic of forest green, Aragorn pulled a gold bracelet, engraved with the Tree of Gondor. Tender fingers attached the jewelry around Frodo’s thin right wrist. “With this, I do declare my intent to marry you, Frodo Baggins of the Shire.”
The gold flashed in the sunlight filtering through the windows, as Frodo examined the engraving closely. “I have nothing for you,” he said regretfully, “for this is too beautiful a thing to be accepted without return.”
“You give me your hand and your heart, Frodo. That is worth all the beautiful things in the world to me.”
“Oh dear,” Frodo said lightly, “listen to the dangerous Ranger of the North speak such soft and silly poetry.” He laughed a little, warming Aragorn’s heart, before setting his head to rest on a firm chest. “Still, I shall search you out something in return. For I, too, wish you to wear a symbol of our feelings for each other.”
“Whatever you choose, I shall wear proudly” Aragorn said. “As for the rest of your questions, your concerns over our child, I may only ask that we deal with them as they come. Elrond shall return as your time draws near, and Gandalf and I will always watch over you. I do not doubt that Sam, Merry and Pippin shall also want to help. Together, we shall assist you through the carrying and birth of our child.”
“Our child,” Frodo whispered, the words like sweet honey on his tongue. Tears rolled down his cheeks from eyes that overflowed with joy. “Never were there such words, my Strider.”
Bending down a little, Aragorn kissed the moisture from off of Frodo’s cheeks and lips. In the instant Frodo returned the kiss, his small tongue seeking its larger mate, things shifted between them. Clothes suddenly seemed an cumbersome, hot and uncomfortable. The window became a foolish place to be, and Frodo rushed for the bed, pulling Aragorn behind him. The man laughed softly at the haste, but his laugh choked off into a moan when tricky little hands found his erection.
They fell on to the bed, Aragorn gathering Frodo into his arms with a growl of possession. Hands trailed everywhere, touched everything within reach, while their mouths never parted for more than the quickest breaths. Finally, Frodo pinched one of Aragorn’s nipples a little to eagerly and found himself pinned down under a lean body of quivering muscles.
“Oooh,” he gasped, staring into the wild gaze of the King.
Hands spanned the width of Frodo’s chest, holding him as a skilled and hungry mouth feasted. Even as Frodo gasped and squirmed beneath the slick muscle’s ministrations, he tried to reach down and find the sensitive spot right near Aragorn’s navel. When the man suddenly arched up and hissed, before stretching his whole body, Frodo repeated the action. He tortured the area until Aragorn collapsed bonelessly to the side, grabbing the small hands to make them stop.
“Evil hobbit,” he said through gritted teeth.
Frodo just grinned at him and moved quickly to straddle his chest. He slid up to sit near Aragorn’s shoulders, offering himself. A warm, cavernous mouth engulfed him from tip to root, sucking hungrily. Hips thrusting reflexively, pleasure sparked from his nether regions and short circuited the rest of his nerves.
Pleased by the small noises of pleasure Frodo made, Aragorn used all the tricks he knew to cause more of the moaning and wordless cries. He knew Frodo, still weakened from his trials and now pregnant, would not last long and tried to give him as much physical pleasure as possible. Sure enough, the hobbit soon yelled, “Aragorn,” and rewarded his efforts with his release.
Frodo slid backward into a prone position on Aragorn’s body. He felt truly alive for one of the first times since destroying the Ring and reveled in the sensation. In the very periphery of his view, he could see that his lover remained unsatisfied and wondered at the man’s patience. He licked his hands and stretched them over his head to stroke and pull.
“Frodo,” Aragorn whispered, sounding near-pained.
Frodo’s tongue slid out of his mouth, wetting his top lip as he pleasured Aragorn. He nearly bit off the very tip in delight when the man thrust up powerfully under him in climax. The form beneath him trembled for several moments and then went still, as both of them panted hard.
Finally, Aragorn sat up and looked down into Frodo’s flushed face. He traced the cheeks with his fingers, marveling at the softness of the skin. “What shall we name our first child, Frodo?”
“May we call him Strider?” Frodo asked with a dimpled smile.
A laugh escaped the new king, and he tickled Frodo’s side gently. “I do not think that is a very royal name.”
“You are wrong,” Frodo said earnestly. “It was the name I first heard you called by, the name I fell in love with you by, the name dearest and closest to my heart through all these long days...”
Aragorn’s face softened, his eyes shining with moisture in the faint light. “Then my dearest Frodo, our son shall be named Strider and happy shall everyone be to call him by such a name.”
“Strider Samwise Baggins,” Frodo said happily. His eyes fluttered tiredly, as he continued to lay comfortably against Aragorn.
Aragorn cradled him closer, lying back down on the pillows. “Strider Samwise Baggins.”
Frodo fell asleep with a little smile, his dreams filled with visions of his son, Strider Baggins, the king of Gondor.
This is my SESA story for [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com] who requested hot mpreg hobbit ficcy! I had never done mpreg, so I hope my results are satisfactory! I did my best for you, love!
Happy Holidays!
Saklani
Author: Saklani
Title: A New Bloom
Codes: Frodo/Aragorn for FPS Secret Santa
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Frodo learns he carries the heir to the throne of Gondor.
Disclaimer: Tolkein’s estate and New Line own everything! I am just a humble fic writer who writes because her Muse will not leave her alone. Money made? Yeah, right.
Feedback: HELL YEAH! to saklani@wildmail.com
Posting- Sure! Go ahead, just let me know where ya put it!
Author's Notes: This is my first mpreg! *gasp* I got a request from the lotr_sesa for hot mpreg hobbit, so I did my best to oblige! I hope this is what you wanted, Angie!! Happy Holidays!
Dedicated to: AngieT
A New Bloom
Above the white city of Minas Tirith, a pale moon shown through high clouds and spread its gauzy light down on those not yet asleep. The gentle rays fell lightly on the pale cheeks of Frodo Baggins as he stood on the highest battlement, gazing in the direction the Shire. Occasionally, he sighed softly, thinking of all behind him and wondering what lay ahead.
Days gradually turned to weeks since he and Samwise returned from Mt. Doom and the end of the Ring. When he dreamed, Frodo still heard its savage and bewitching call, seducing him away from everything he knew to be right and dear. He avoided sleep now, preferring to walk the corridors and towers then spend another night longing for the vile thing.
Frodo did not hear the footsteps behind him until a soft voice said, “I thought to find you here, Frodo Baggins.”
“Lady Arwen,” he gasped, turning to regard with wide, surprised eyes. “I- how-”
“I know your dreams to be restless and filled with much suffering and sorrow,” she said. “I have a gift for you that shall ease your weary heart and mind.”
Frodo looked down at his trembling hands, which twisted uselessly around each other. “You are most kind, Lady Arwen. Truly, anything you might suggest which might help me find peace would be most welcome.”
The Evenstar pendant suddenly filled his vision, as she said, “Then take this, Frodo Baggins, and the mortal life that I once thought to lead.”
His hands instinctively grasped the lovely jewel, even as his mind suddenly protested. “The mortal life you once thought to lead? But- I do not understand. Shall you not wed Strider and be the queen of this land?”
“No.” Arwen glided to the side of the battlement and faced the West. “No, that is not the path I must follow. I will go with my father and the rest of my people into the Undying Lands and dwell forever there.”
“And Strider?” Frodo asked, his voice quivering with emotion he tried desperately to hold back. He did not want her to know, could not let her see...
Her velvet cape swirled in a graceful arc as Arwen turned to regard him with knowing eyes. No trace of anger or judgment lingered in their depths. “His heart and fate entitle him to another. When the newly planted White Tree blossomed so soon, I knew my time with him to be ended. I feel no ill will toward him or the one who will bear the heirs to the throne. Love does not listen to reason or think on prior promises.”
“The- the- the heirs of Gondor?” Frodo stuttered, unsettled by the words and the calmness of Arwen’s demeanor. “Who shall bear them if not you?”
“You.”
The implications of this simple word hit Frodo hard. “That is impossible.”
“No, Frodo, it has already happened. Have you not been feeling ill in the mornings recently?” Her serene face split into a smile that outshone the celestial beauty of the moon.
“Yes, but I- I thought it was from being able to eat a diversity of foods again. Sam and I, we only ate lembas bread and water for so long... our stomachs were not used to anything else.”
“Yet he does not suffer from the ailment as you do,” Arwen noted gently.
The battlement suddenly became the only thing propping Frodo up as he fell back against the comforting stone. “I was weaker,” he said, but the argument failed to convince even him. He clutched the pendant to his chest, its presence comforting. “How is such a thing possible?”
“You are a magical being, Frodo Baggins, and the love between you and the King of Gondor is equally so. He confessed to me of his love for you the night of my arrival here, of how you consummated your relationship after you were well enough. He fully intended to go through with his oath to wed me, as I know you resigned to allow him. I cannot tell you how much I love the both of you more for it.” She pressed her right hand to his cheek. “My father and I shall leave tomorrow to return one last time to Rivendell. I bid thee adieu, savior of Middle Earth, and wish thee and Aragorn many, many years of happiness.” Bending, she kissed his forehead once and then vanished down the stone steps with a last gleam of auburn hair.
**********
The White Tree of Gondor blossomed in the warm spring sun , the delicate white petals attracting steady visitation by bees, whose buzzing seemed to herald the return of life to the once crumbling country. Some ten yards in front of the tree, the newly crowned King Aragorn sat, watching the insects with a secret pleasure. The elves, Elrond and Arwen amongst them, had taken their leave of him this morning, carrying with them the last remainders of his old life. Now, he looked forward to new beginnings.
A motion by the courtyard entrance distracted him, and he stood to bow and smile a greeting to Lady Eowyn. “Lady Eowyn, good day to you.”
“Please forgive me, your Majesty, if I am disturbing you. Lord Faramir told me of the glory of the tree, and I could not resist a visit.” Her shimmering green gown trailed behind her as she walked closer to examine the flowers. “Truly, he did not exaggerate.”
“You do not disturb me, Lady Eowyn. I was merely relaxing for a short time before returning to my advisors and new duties.” He pushed aside his cape, still discomforted by the plush velvet where naught but worn cloth used to hang.
One hand curled delicately around a bloom, Eowyn turned to regard him with understanding in her dark eyes. “I heard Lady Arwen decided to accompany her people to the West. My deepest sympathies to you on you loss, Your Majesty. Having found Lord Faramir, I know how keenly the loss must plague you.”
A moment of silence greeted her words, until Eowyn wondered if she needed to apologize for being forward and ill-mannered in her address. A sudden chuckle from the King startled her before she might speak.
“Your words are kindly meant, and I appreciate them for all their good intentions. However, you need not be concerned for my heart, Lady Eowyn. I do not suffer from her decision as you might think I should. Indeed, she and I were best parted, so I rejoice that she might live forever in the Undying Lands, while I remain here with the one who holds my heart in his dear hands.”
Curiosity warred with prudence and eventually won over Eowyn. “His hands?”
Rising, Aragorn walked over to the Tree and touched its bark reverently. “Have you not heard the legend of the Tree? When it blossoms, an heir to the throne of Gondor will be born.”
“My Lord Faramir did tell me the story of the Tree. I had thought Lady Arwen might bear your child, until the news of her departure reached me.” Lady Eowyn watched the strong hands of the King caress the bark and thought of the time when she hoped those hands might touch her in the same way. Indeed, she suffered greatly when she learned of his betrothal... until Faramir arrived to sweeten her days.
“Nay, though once I did think the same. The Tree blooms, an heir will be born- my heir- but not to Lady Arwen.” His mouth lifted into a smile, crinkling the immaculate beard that looked out of place on his battle worn face.
Eowyn waited with impatience, not quite daring to ask, but hoping he might tell her anyway. Only
the way she tugged at the hem of her gown signaled her feelings.
Sharp blue eyes catching the movement, Aragorn amusedly debated keeping her in suspense. Deciding such an action might be beneath a king, he said, “The savior of the world, Frodo Baggins carries my child.”
Had he declared an Uruk-Hai warrior his true love, Eowyn could not have felt any greater shock or disbelief. Her face flooded with emotion, though she vainly struggled to keep it schooled. “The Ringbearer?”
“Who more worthy in all the lands to help rule Gondor?” Aragorn asked, noting her shock without surprise. “He saved this land and all the others, why then should his heirs not rule over them for all time?”
Eowyn’s pale face flushed with shame, but her voice came out steady, “Of course, I would never think him unworthy of your love or the devotion of all people. I- I just did not know such a thing was possible. How might a hobbit, and a male one at that, bear your child?”
“Gandalf said magic flows in the blood of the Baggins lineage. Once I met Frodo, I knew this to be true. I began to love him not long after our first encounter in Bree, and by the time I met you, my love for him sang in my heart like the sweetest, but saddest, of songs.” His hand dropped from the Tree, as he turned and walked a few steps away from them. He gazed up into the sky, toward the sun, which shown unencumbered by clouds. “I never thought to have a chance to speak to him of my feeling, but when the eagles rescued him from Mordor, so pale, thin and weary, I knew I could not live the rest of my life without having told him. Imagine my joy when he returned my love... Even could he not bear me any children, I would spend the rest of life by his side.”
“Aye, tis how I feel of Lord Faramir,” Eowyn whispered.
They stood together in the courtyard, each thinking of their loves. A gentle breeze stirred the air, drifting with memories of losses, victories and hopes for the days to come.
Someone cleared his throat nearby, and both Aragorn and Eowyn turned toward the noise. “Excuse me, Your Majesty, My Lady, but I bear a request from Frodo Baggins that the King attend to him when he may. I do believe there is some urgency in the request.”
“Of course, please tell him I will be there directly,” Aragorn said, and the guard hastened off with his message. “Pray excuse me, Lady Eowyn.”
“Of course, Your Majesty,” she said with a deep curtsey.
Before he hurried away himself, he said, “My best hopes for you and Lord Faramir as well. I would be honored to perform your marriage vows.”
Pleasure shone in her lovely features. “Good Sir, that would be exactly as we wished for.”
He bowed to her and then vanished down the path, leaving Eowyn to gaze in renewed wonder at the White Tree.
**********
Until now, the quarters assigned to him always seemed too large to Frodo. Despite the custom made furniture Aragorn ordered designed for the hobbits, the room felt too large and airy for comfort. Frodo longed for the comfort of a hobbit hole, where everything seemed cozy and correctly proportioned. As he paced the floor, waiting for Aragorn to arrive, he suddenly desired a much wider space to move around.
A loud knock announced Aragorn’s arrival, and Frodo took several deep steadying breaths to calm his nerves and rabbiting heart. “Come in.” The entrance of the King, garbed in his royal finery, often stilled all activity in a room. For Frodo, the sight of his beloved galvanized him into action. His fears set aside, he rushed the man and leaped into his arms. “Strider.”
They kissed for a long moment, mouths fitted together as two puzzle pieces. When finally lack of air demanded parting, both gazed into each other’s eyes in silence. Aragorn carried Frodo to the window and seated himself on the nook there.
“You see whom truly rules this land, my Frodo. Call me, and everything shall be dropped so I might be by your side.” He pressed a kiss to the palm of a four-fingered hand. “How may I serve thee?”
Gazing into steel eyes, Frodo briefly lost the use of his voice. Their entwined hands, the feel of a strong body against his, the love he felt between them- these miracles robbed him of his ability to do anything but wonder that such unbelievable things were true. Except, he now found himself with something even more incredible to ask, “Strider, is it true? Am I to have your child?”
A large, warm hand settled tenderly on Frodo’s stomach and rubbed there gently. “So Elrond and Gandalf do tell me. How did you find out? They were discussing only this morning, before Elrond left for Rivendell, when to reveal the truth to you.”
“Lady Arwen told me,” Frodo said.
Concern etched into Aragorn’s strong features, and he pressed a kiss to Frodo’s brow. “How do you feel about this, my Frodo?”
A silence of several moments descended, as Frodo considered the question carefully. “I- I am frightened, Strider, for many reasons. You have yet to announce to your subjects that Lady Arwen shall not be your bride.... and I still wonder how they will accept a hobbit- me- in her place. And how am I to carry a child? Or give birth? You are so much bigger than I am... how large shall the child be?” As his questions continued, his voice rose in fear into it wavered tremulously at the highest pitch.
“Hush, hush, my love,” Aragorn soothed. He kissed Frodo silent. “We shall deal with these as they come. First, I plan to announce to my advisors of my choice of partner, but I must ask you something most important, Frodo Baggins. Will you perform a wedding ceremony with me and dwell by my side in this life and the next?”
“You- you are asking me to marry you!” Frodo said with a gasp of delight. “Oh yes, yes, I want nothing more to be yours, Strider.”
From his tunic of forest green, Aragorn pulled a gold bracelet, engraved with the Tree of Gondor. Tender fingers attached the jewelry around Frodo’s thin right wrist. “With this, I do declare my intent to marry you, Frodo Baggins of the Shire.”
The gold flashed in the sunlight filtering through the windows, as Frodo examined the engraving closely. “I have nothing for you,” he said regretfully, “for this is too beautiful a thing to be accepted without return.”
“You give me your hand and your heart, Frodo. That is worth all the beautiful things in the world to me.”
“Oh dear,” Frodo said lightly, “listen to the dangerous Ranger of the North speak such soft and silly poetry.” He laughed a little, warming Aragorn’s heart, before setting his head to rest on a firm chest. “Still, I shall search you out something in return. For I, too, wish you to wear a symbol of our feelings for each other.”
“Whatever you choose, I shall wear proudly” Aragorn said. “As for the rest of your questions, your concerns over our child, I may only ask that we deal with them as they come. Elrond shall return as your time draws near, and Gandalf and I will always watch over you. I do not doubt that Sam, Merry and Pippin shall also want to help. Together, we shall assist you through the carrying and birth of our child.”
“Our child,” Frodo whispered, the words like sweet honey on his tongue. Tears rolled down his cheeks from eyes that overflowed with joy. “Never were there such words, my Strider.”
Bending down a little, Aragorn kissed the moisture from off of Frodo’s cheeks and lips. In the instant Frodo returned the kiss, his small tongue seeking its larger mate, things shifted between them. Clothes suddenly seemed an cumbersome, hot and uncomfortable. The window became a foolish place to be, and Frodo rushed for the bed, pulling Aragorn behind him. The man laughed softly at the haste, but his laugh choked off into a moan when tricky little hands found his erection.
They fell on to the bed, Aragorn gathering Frodo into his arms with a growl of possession. Hands trailed everywhere, touched everything within reach, while their mouths never parted for more than the quickest breaths. Finally, Frodo pinched one of Aragorn’s nipples a little to eagerly and found himself pinned down under a lean body of quivering muscles.
“Oooh,” he gasped, staring into the wild gaze of the King.
Hands spanned the width of Frodo’s chest, holding him as a skilled and hungry mouth feasted. Even as Frodo gasped and squirmed beneath the slick muscle’s ministrations, he tried to reach down and find the sensitive spot right near Aragorn’s navel. When the man suddenly arched up and hissed, before stretching his whole body, Frodo repeated the action. He tortured the area until Aragorn collapsed bonelessly to the side, grabbing the small hands to make them stop.
“Evil hobbit,” he said through gritted teeth.
Frodo just grinned at him and moved quickly to straddle his chest. He slid up to sit near Aragorn’s shoulders, offering himself. A warm, cavernous mouth engulfed him from tip to root, sucking hungrily. Hips thrusting reflexively, pleasure sparked from his nether regions and short circuited the rest of his nerves.
Pleased by the small noises of pleasure Frodo made, Aragorn used all the tricks he knew to cause more of the moaning and wordless cries. He knew Frodo, still weakened from his trials and now pregnant, would not last long and tried to give him as much physical pleasure as possible. Sure enough, the hobbit soon yelled, “Aragorn,” and rewarded his efforts with his release.
Frodo slid backward into a prone position on Aragorn’s body. He felt truly alive for one of the first times since destroying the Ring and reveled in the sensation. In the very periphery of his view, he could see that his lover remained unsatisfied and wondered at the man’s patience. He licked his hands and stretched them over his head to stroke and pull.
“Frodo,” Aragorn whispered, sounding near-pained.
Frodo’s tongue slid out of his mouth, wetting his top lip as he pleasured Aragorn. He nearly bit off the very tip in delight when the man thrust up powerfully under him in climax. The form beneath him trembled for several moments and then went still, as both of them panted hard.
Finally, Aragorn sat up and looked down into Frodo’s flushed face. He traced the cheeks with his fingers, marveling at the softness of the skin. “What shall we name our first child, Frodo?”
“May we call him Strider?” Frodo asked with a dimpled smile.
A laugh escaped the new king, and he tickled Frodo’s side gently. “I do not think that is a very royal name.”
“You are wrong,” Frodo said earnestly. “It was the name I first heard you called by, the name I fell in love with you by, the name dearest and closest to my heart through all these long days...”
Aragorn’s face softened, his eyes shining with moisture in the faint light. “Then my dearest Frodo, our son shall be named Strider and happy shall everyone be to call him by such a name.”
“Strider Samwise Baggins,” Frodo said happily. His eyes fluttered tiredly, as he continued to lay comfortably against Aragorn.
Aragorn cradled him closer, lying back down on the pillows. “Strider Samwise Baggins.”
Frodo fell asleep with a little smile, his dreams filled with visions of his son, Strider Baggins, the king of Gondor.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2004-12-25 12:04 pm (UTC)Merry Christmas and lots of love
Thank you
Angie
no subject
Date: 2004-12-27 03:34 pm (UTC)Kisses.
no subject
Date: 2005-01-18 01:56 pm (UTC)