Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Frodo/Aragorn
Summary: Frodo awakens in Minas Tirith with Aragorn at his side.
Disclaimer: Frodo and all recognisable characters are the property of the Estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. No offence is intended, nor profit made.
A warm breeze filtered through the busy streets of the White City of Minas Tirith. Women and men, soldier and commoners alike carried rubble, swept away debris, constructed new walls and rebuilt their lives. Under the bright, mid-March, morning sun, they worked to clean away the remains of the war and the long, hard years before.
Aragorn, accompanied by the faithful Legolas and sturdy Gimli, strode along the narrow ways. He often stopped to speak and lend assistance to his people, spreading belief in his footsteps. A touch from his hands brought strength to the weary and peace to the mourning. In his wake, the people worked with even greater fervor, determined to be equal to their King.
Only Aragorn's companions realized his heart and mind did not dwell fully with his rounds. He kept alert always for a guardsman carrying news of Frodo.
In the weeks following Sauron's downfall, the hobbit lay unconscious in the Houses of Healing. His poor body, ravaged by the trip and the cruelty of the orcs, slowly recovered, but he remained in a deep sleep. Sometimes, he would cry and thrash, his mind plagued with dark memories. At these times, only the hands of the King soothed him back into a restful slumber.
So, King Elessar always kept one ear cocked for the sound of a messenger come to fetch him to Frodo's side. All other duties fell to the wayside when Frodo needed his presence. Twas only right to show such deference to the savior of Middle Earth... and the hobbit he loved.
He wondered, even as he comforted a young women who lost her family in battle, if the others knew of his feelings for the former Ringbearer from the beginning. Had faithful Samwise seen their preoccupation with each other as they fled toward Rivendell? Did wise Gandalf suspect them in Moria, when all was dark and hidden from most eyes? Noble Elrond probably divined that the frantic worry Aragorn felt for the wounded Frodo transcended the bounds of normal friendship. And sweet Arwen, perhaps her decision to sail West was not solely motivated by her desire to be with her people.
They stopped to rally a small group of soldiers digging through a pile of rubble that used to be a shop. The men responded well to their King's presence and soon cleared away the wreckage to the large pile just outside the city walls. The dwarves helping to reconstruct Minas Tirith found clever ways to reuse even the smallest bits of stone, so the great city literally regrew out of the rubble.
Running feet disturbed the king from a conversation with a young soldier about his new child. "Tis the Ringbearer," he said gravely as a messenger stopped before him.
"Yes, Sire, but good tidings. The Healers think he is waking," said the boy.
Aragorn did not wait to ask questions, but turned to race up the streets.
"Brego has been brought for you!" the boy shouted frantically after him.
Noticing a groom holding his horse, Aragorn reversed field and dashed to him. "Thank you," he said, mounting and spurring Brego to a gallop before the woman could respond.
The people parted before Brego's thundering hooves, wondering what prompted their king to such haste. Up and up the levels of Minas Tirith they climbed, Aragorn's anticipation growing with every stride. Would he miss the moment those lovely blue eyes opened? Would Frodo really return to him- whole and healthy?
Brego responded to his rider's anxiety, pushing himself to the limits of his speed. They burst into the White Tree's Courtyard, and Aragorn leaped off Brego full stride. His legs rushed him toward the Houses of Healing before they even touched the cobblestones.
"I knew you would get here in time," Lady Eowyn said as Aragorn burst in the doors and nearly ran her down. "He is stirring now, Sire. You have time to spare yet."
Aragorn shook his head and kept up his long strides, forcing Eowyn to trot to keep up. "I will not risk missing his awakening now, after so many weeks of waiting and months before of being parted."
Several recovering soldiers saluted smartly as Aragorn strode past with Eowyn at his heels. He managed a polite smile to them, but his mind focused only on Frodo's room ahead.
"Is it true, is he waking?" Aragorn demanded of the healer waiting for them outside the door.
She managed to remain calm, even in the face of her King's anxious presence. "Indeed, Sire, we believe he shall wake at any time. We also feel it will be best for him if only you are present when he does."
This gave Aragorn pause for he hated to ban Frodo's friends, particularly Sam, from the room. "I would prefer if Samwise were allowed to stay."
The healer shook her head emphatically. "Please, Sire, we must insist that only you be allowed inside. Frodo needs the shock and excitement of his waking to be minimized."
"Very well. I shall issue the order, but it shall fall on your head to explain to three angry hobbits, a wizard, a dwarf and an elf." He bowed a little to both women and entered the room.
A figure sitting in the chair beside Frodo's bedside and rose and bowed to Aragorn. "I have kept your seat warm until you took your rightful place by Frodo's side.'
"Thank you, Ioreth," Aragorn said to his Warden of Healing. "Your attention to the Ringbearer has been noted and appreciated."
"Twas an honor, as well as my duty." Ioreth bowed again and exited with the gentlest click of the door.
Aragorn sat in the chair and took Frodo's mangled hand in his own. The hobbit looked pale, thin and tiny upon the man-sized bed. Aragorn doubted suddenly that he would wake anytime soon. The Frodo stirred and mumbled indistinctly.
"Frodo. Frodo, my love, tis time to wake up," Aragorn murmured, leaning forward to kiss his cool cheek. "Your Strider wishes you to open your eyes now."
"Strider," Frodo said clearly, reaching for him with his other hand. His eyes remained closed.
Catching the unwounded hand, Aragorn pressed a kiss to each knuckle. "I'm here, my own. You just need to open your eyes to see me."
A little sigh escaped Frodo, as his rosebud lips parted slightly.
Unable to resist, Aragorn settled his large mouth over the smaller one to kiss gently. His tongue traced Frodo's lower lip. When he parted, Frodo attempted to follow his movement.
"Open your eyes, dear Frodo, "Aragorn repeated, stroking his cheek. "You are safe in my kingdom, snug in a bed, with your lover watching over you. Will you not come back to me?"
Eyelids fluttered rapidly, as Frodo struggled to free himself from his long sleep. His hands tightened on Aragorn's fingers, seeking to give him some ground in the real world.
"Yes, Frodo, you are close now. Tis a fine day to wake- sunny and warm. Indeed, this is the first day of Spring, the time to throw off the cold of winter." He pressed kisses to the fluttering eyelids. "Your Strider misses you, Frodo. Please, wake and give joy to me... and all your friends."
A pair of large, luminous blue eyes opened and captured Aragorn's own gray ones instantly. They blinked a few times sleepily, before awareness crept into them. "Strider? Am I dreaming?"
The question drew a laugh from the King. "Nay, Frodo. You are awake at last." He kissed the palm of Frodo's hand reverently. "How do you feel?"
"A bit like I did the morning after I drank too much ale at Fatty Bolger's birthday when I was but a tweenager." He looked around with curiosity. "Where am I?"
"This is the House of Healing in the city of Minas Tirith."
"Where is everyone? Are they all right?" Frodo began to tremble a little in fear as memories tumbled back into his mind.
"Please, calm down. Your friends are well, Frodo. They are eager to see you, but the Healers felt you should not overexcite yourself so soon after awakening." His large hand cupped Frodo's cheek, and the hobbit pressed into the familiar touch.
"How long have I been asleep?" Frodo asked, rubbing his cheek against the rough skin.
"A few weeks. You needed the rest, though we all wished you to wake up." Aragorn kissed Frodo's forehead and the tip of his nose. "Sam and I have sat here at all hours, waiting for you to wake and smile at us."
A tear dripped from Frodo's right eye and on down to Aragorn's hand. "Tis been such a long time since last we beheld each other like this."
"And much has changed, dear Frodo. Many wonderful and sad things I have to tell you, but one thing has not changed, will never change... I love you, Frodo Baggins, and my life shall only be complete if you are here to share it with me."
His words made Frodo cry harder. "As long as I live, I never want to leave your side again."
The days grew steadily warmer and longer as the last traces of winter fled. Minas Tirith continued to rebuild and prosper anew. The trade routes with Rohan, long since dwindled to nothingness, became busy once again. People looked forward to more than just living another day.
Frodo healed along with the city, helped by his friends, especially Gandalf. Discovering his wizard friend to be alive heartened him nearly as much as rekindling his romance with Aragorn.
Not that everyday went smoothly. He fell often into dark funks, haunted by the lingering call of a Ring now consumed by fire or the phantom pains of his missing finger. His dreams were still filled with murderous orcs, menacing wraiths or the hideous Eye of Sauron. He confessed once to Sam that he feared being in Minas Tirith was but a dream and would wake soon to discover himself the prisoner of orcs or cocooned in Shelob's lair.
Twas always Aragorn who broke his black moods. Night or day, he came whenever Frodo needed him and stayed until the darkness cleared. He sang or told stories or simply held his hobbit for hours at a time.
"Shall you marry Frodo?" Pippin asked one night at dinner, surprising both Aragorn and his other fellows with the bold question.
"Is such a thing possible?" Aragorn asked Gandalf, having wondered before.
Gandalf stroked his beard in thought. "I can think of no precedent, so would be an extraordinary event. However, these are not ordinary times and neither Frodo, nor you, are ordinary people. I do not see why it might not be done."
"You wish to marry me?" Frodo asked, his eyes huge, when Aragorn later popped the question. "But what about children? I can hardly bear you the heirs to your throne."
Aragorn's eyes twinkled, as he stretched out on the bed beside Frodo. "I would not be so sure of that, dear Frodo. Gandalf told me there is magic in the blood of the Baggins... and I am a Dunedain."
His mouth fell open in a little 'o' of disbelief and shock at the suggestion. "But- how- how would the child be carried?"
"I'm not sure, but we have many years to find out." Aragorn nuzzled Frodo's neck gently, kissing his pulse point. "When you are well."
"When I am well..." Frodo hugged Aragorn, wrapping his arms around the man's neck. "And I will marry you, dear Strider."
Aragorn responded by kissing Frodo, his lips firm and passionate.
Moaning a little, Frodo slid his hands under Aragorn's velvet tunic and caressed the skin underneath. Clever fingers found the nub of a nipple and pinched, causing Aragorn to goose slightly.
"Please, Frodo, do not torment me. You are not strong enough yet." Aragorn stilled Frodo's roving hands with his own and kissed each one gently.
"I wish to give you pleasure," Frodo said softly. "I have longed to touch you often in the months since we parted. And now, you have asked me to be yours forever. I want to celebrate this gift... celebrate us... celebrate life."
Aragorn smiled and kissed Frodo again, before laying back on the bed. He shrugged out of his tunic and tossed the garment on the floor.
Snagging two fistfuls of chest hair, Frodo tugged and made Aragorn grunt. He found a nipple again and twisted the little nub.
A flash of pleasured pain from the twist made Aragorn buck, nearly unseating Frodo.
Giggling, Frodo scrambled up to suck at the sensitive piece of flesh. He held on as tightly as possible, keeping up his attentions, while Aragorn cursed in elvish and thrashed beneath him. When he finally ceased gnawing, sucking and licking, the king breathed like a horse taken for a wild gallop.
"I see" -the man panted- "that you haven't forgotten how to render me helpless with a minimum of effort."
"Tis a good thing I am not your enemy, or you should be quite at my mercy, "Frodo gloated, his skin flushed red with pleasure and ardor. He looked healthier and happier than Aragorn could remember seeing him since he met the hobbit in Bree.
Looking at the hobbit warily, lest he attack again, Aragorn said, "I am not sure I feel much safer with you than I would with my enemies."
Frodo laughed again and placed a lingering kiss on Aragorn's mouth, chewing his lips with sharp teeth. "I shall have to prove to you that I only wish to give you pleasure. But I fear that means you must trust me and remove your breeches. I can never manage those confounded knots you use to keep your treasures safely inside."
Not needing to be asked twice, Aragorn reached around his chestful of hobbit and fumbled with the laces. His fingers slipped over the knots for a few moments before he finally caught them securely and worked them loose. As the pressure on his erection eased, he breathed a sigh of relief. A sigh that turned into a moan of shocked delight as Frodo reached behind him and very firmly squeezed.
"Stay still!" Frodo ordered, before turning around to contemplate Aragorn's erection and decide what to do.
"Frodo," Aragorn groaned, moving restlessly, as Frodo just sat there staring at him.
"Don't move," Frodo said again, swatting his flank. Still, he took pity when Aragorn moaned pitifully and leaned forward to lick at the head. Of course, he regretted the action when his lover nearly flew off the bed in response.
By this time, Aragorn was nearly senseless with desire and want. He babbled senselessly in elvish at Frodo, begging him to stop, to go faster, to end his suffering.
Recognizing the cruelty of keeping Aragorn on the edge for much longer, Frodo snuck his mouth over the weeping flesh and cautiously moved up and down. Snagging hold of the breeches' laces for a handhold, he began to work in earnest.
After such a long celibacy and feeling all his love for Frodo boiling through his veins and deep inside his heart, Aragorn came with a cry that all the healers and remaining patients in the Healing Houses heard. They all smiled at the noise of pleasure, even if they thought it a little inelegant for the King to be quite so loud.
Frodo did not even attempt to swallow the copious amounts of fluid, lest he choke and have recovered from his trials with the Ring only to die ignominiously with his lips wrapped sinfully around Aragorn. Instead, he used a rag on the bedside table to clean up the mess and then turned back to smile smugly at Aragorn.
"Do not look so smug," Aragorn said with a little scowl. "When you are well enough, I shall make you howl louder even then that."
Snuggling into Aragorn's side with a contented sigh, Frodo answered, "I look forward to it."
So it was that a year after destroying the One Ring in the fires of Mt Doom, Frodo Baggins of the Shire wed the King of Gondor in a ceremony of such finery that none would ever see another like it.
And a few years later, when Aragorn gave birth to their first son and held him so the cheering crowds might see, everyone knew that the very last shadows of the past were truly cast away.
The End
