Frodo had been preparing for this moment since he'd first heard the news. Pregnant! With it brought joy...but also pain. Images of women, screaming bloody murder and bleeding out over their children came to mind. Frodo knew that it would be doubly, triply hard to bear, one, for his being a male, and two, for the child being half man.
He tried not to be daunted, tried to be optimistic. But he could not, even in his mind, imagine himself having a successful and easy birth. Not even in his wildest dreams had he been able to bend logic and circumstance to such whimsy. So yes, he had both dreaded and anticipated the end of his pregnancy, trying his hardest not to focus on what would come after.
And now, it was finally here.
He dug his fingernails into Aragorn's arm and grunted softly as he bore down on the pain, refusing to let it rule him just yet. He was sure he was hurting the king, but Aragorn said nothing. A puddle of wetness had spread from his thighs, the surest sign that the baby was coming.
"Easy, Frodo. Easy, love." Aragorn said, as he would to one of his cherished mounts. Aragorn moved to lay Frodo back on the nest he'd made of their cloaks.
Frodo let him, but he remained too tense to lie easily. Instead, he curled himself up into a ball, still gripping Aragorn's forearms tightly. Aragorn smiled softly at this tenacity, and curled himself protectively around Frodo. There was no immediate danger, for now. Aragorn had seen many other women go through labor, and knew that it would be many hours yet before the baby came.
The contraction passed, and muscle by muscle, Frodo began to relax. Aragorn stroked his hair and kissed his face gently. He did his best to project his love and calm to Frodo. Like animals, people in pain easily pick up signals of fear and worry. Aragorn struggled nobly not to let his show.
It was not long before Frodo fell into a light sleep. Aragorn praised every god he could think of, for that. It would not be long before the contractions came too fast and close together for Frodo to sleep. And he would need all the rest he could get to deliver a half-man sized baby.
In the meantime, it gave Aragorn the opportunity to go looking for several essential herbs, ones that might be needed should complications arise. And though Aragorn wanted to believe otherwise, complications would likely indeed arise.
The sky was steel gray when Aragorn emerged from the cave. He was careful that no one saw, and he covered the entrance thoroughly with loose underbrush. He smiled to himself as he thought about how like an animal he was acting. Foraging for herbs while his mate delivered a baby.
He looked out at the landscape, searching keenly for any sign of humanity. Nothing stirred in the trees but the birds, and nothing crossed the ground but the river. It would be safe enough, for the time being.
He worried though, about the horrible beasts that had detained them before. How determined were they? How far were they willing to follow the king and his mate? These questions had bothered him for some time, but he had not allowed himself to worry about it when he was with Frodo. Now they came clamoring to the forefront of his mind.
Preoccupied, he methodically searched out and collected the leaves of the necessary plants, including, but not limited to, copious amounts of athelas plant.
Though the fresh air was calming to him, Aragorn dared not stay gone too long. Frodo would be waking soon, and in pain. Aragorn would not be able to bear leaving him alone in such a condition. He completed his business and returned to the dark cave.
***
Frodo drifted, not quite waking, but not quite sleeping. A slight sweat had broken out along his forehead, and he shifted uncomfortably in sleep. He was cold. He curled himself further into a ball, noticing the chill, but not bothering too much about it.
He focused inward, living vicariously through his half-dream. He knew that a stray thought could wake him up, so he monitored them carefully. There was no need to let go of this fantasy just yet.
It wasn't actually a fantasy, per se. It was more of a pleasant, all over feeling of warmth and love and grayness. Strangely enough, a song was playing in his head, as well. He recognized it as the tune played at his and Aragorn's bonding ceremony. Odd, he thought to himself, but he continued to float through his dreamland.
Like a fragile bubble, it all popped when a rippling pain appeared in his abdomen. "Ah!" he cried, not expecting the sudden, sharp pain.
He clutched his own belly in protest, having nothing else to ease his pain. Fiercely, he willed the pain to dissipate. It felt like someone was stabbing a dull knife into his gut, and twisting it. Frodo's brow clenched in hurt, and he moaned like a wounded animal.
Soon enough, the pain passed. It left Frodo feeling weak and sick. He reached to his bottom, and found a small amount of blood had trickled out of his birth canal. Leftover from the rape, likely. It did not worry him, for there was not much, and bleeding was to be expected, but the sharp sight of red blood on his fingers did shock him somewhat.
"Oh, what have I gotten myself into!" He cried, leaning back on the blankets. It was still cold in the cave, and what had barely bothered him before, now irritated him immensely. Peevishly, he wrapped himself in the cloaks beneath him, curling into a small, wooly bundle of hobbit.
And then there was the matter of Aragorn. Where had he gone? Was he in trouble?
A rock dug into Frodo's back, and he growled at it. If Aragorn wasn't in trouble, he was certainly going to hear about abandoning Frodo in the middle of labor!
Frodo moaned again, softly. He was possibly the most uncomfortable he'd been in his entire life. Well, maybe excluding the horrid trip through Mordor, but Frodo had been trying his hardest to forget that entire quest, ever since he'd come back from it. An adventure, indeed.
Frodo snorted at his own thoughts. Then, Aragorn's head appeared in the entryway of the cave. The rest of him soon followed, with a sack of what smelled like medication over his shoulder. Frodo made a face. Despite the unpleasant conditions, the appearance of Aragorn had lightened the situation considerably.
"Where in all hells have you been?" Frodo grumped. Aragorn, however, was practiced at detecting humor in his love's voice, and merely smiled.
"Why, gathering herbs to attend to your cheerful self." A hint of a smile worked at Frodo's lips, and Aragorn laughed, slinging the sack down on the floor. "How are you, Frodo?"
"You mean besides trying to shove a man-sized baby out my bum? Just fine, thank you. And you?"
Aragorn was shocked for a moment at Frodo's crude humor, but he quickly dissolved into laughter. "An elegant way of putting it, to be sure."
Frodo pressed against Aragorn's side. He was warm from his body heat and his recent exertion. He smelled like sweat, leather, and salt, and Frodo loved it. He draped an arm casually and possessively over Aragorn's waist, and relaxed his body, trying to go back to sleep. It was not long before a soft snoring overtook him.
"They say pregnant women get moody in their third trimester. Obviously, `they' have never met a pregnant hobbit!" Aragorn said softly to himself. The selfish part of him wished Frodo would wake up, and give him some company. But he looked at the pleasant expression on the sleeping hobbit's face, and he realized that they had plenty of time to enjoy each other's company.
***
Frodo woke screaming, for the umpteenth time. The contractions were coming closer and closer together, now, and he barely had time to go to sleep, before he was rudely awakened by his own treacherous muscles. He felt the wet gush of blood as the wave of pain passed slowly through him. It was taking its time, that was for sure. Frodo gritted his teeth, and let himself be carried by the force of the pain. He gripped Aragorn's hand with punishing force, grinding his fingernails into soft flesh. He'd be sorry later, but right now, his only desire was to find a way to bring this pain down to bearable levels.
About an hour ago, he'd begun to scream when the contractions hit him. Their power had been increasing exponentially with each one, and it was beginning to be too much for the small hobbit.
Aragorn checked between his legs frequently, but word was, he wasn't allowed to push just yet. He still wasn't sure whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. He wanted this baby out, but he didn't think he had the energy to push it out.
The contraction passed, what seemed like hours later. Of course, time seemed to be moving as if underwater, recently. Far too slow for Frodo's liking.
He laid back, and was dismayed to find out how drained he felt. It was a struggle just to breathe, and he couldn't even fathom the idea of movement.
Aragorn smoothed his brow gently. "There you are, that wasn't so bad, was it? Not much longer to go, now. Soon we will have a nice daughter or son."
"You clearly haven't been paying attention, if you thought that `wasn't so bad'." Frodo remarked acerbically. It took all his strength to put some force behind those words.
"I know what you need, you vicious hobbit, you." Aragorn disappeared from vision for a moment, and then returned, bearing a mug of steaming herbal something-or-other. Frodo, too tired to complain, drank it peacefully.
Aragorn took his head into his lap, and gently began to massage Frodo's shoulders. The hobbit sighed. His muscles certainly appreciated the intervention.
Frodo sighed. "Aragorn," he began in all seriousness. "When our baby is born, I want him or her to see the Shire. Be sure not to raise them away from hobbits. It would be just terrible for a half-hobbit child to live only in a house of men."
Aragorn laughed. "Why do you speak as if I'm the one who's going to have full responsibility? After all, the child will be half yours, as well."
"I know. I just...I simply don't believe that I'm going to be around to help you raise it." Frodo's admission was soft, and full of pain. Aragorn's eyes narrowed.
"Do not say things like that. You will certainly be around to raise it. I will make sure of it. In the meantime, do not be so pessimistic. It burdens my heart."
Frodo twisted so that he could look up into Aragorn's eyes. "I am not some foolish halfling, King Elessar. I know that it is not likely I will live through the birth of this child."
Aragorn said nothing, but his eyes were steely in the light. Frodo settled back down, gazing away into the dark. "Honestly, I can't say that I am sorry. Ever since that night...I have been wishing I was dead for too long. That man... He took away the last of what was good in me. I shall be relieved to finally achieve my rest."
Aragorn pinched Frodo's shoulders painfully, and rotated him around so that their eyes met. "Do not EVER say things like that again, Frodo Baggins! I will not tolerate such foolishness from you! That man was an imbecilic pile of horse droppings, and you are too strong to believe that he could take anything from you."
Aragorn's eyes had misted over, and he rubbed them callously with his arm. "You will survive this, and we will return home together with our prince or princess. Do not allow yourself to believe anything to the contrary."
Frodo did not answer, for his body was contorted with pain. His breath came shallowly. "Aragorn..." he panted. "Check if it's time."
Aragorn dutifully shifted to look between Frodo's legs, and found
him finally ready. He looked up, his eyes shining bright with
anticipation and fear. "Yes, Frodo. It is time. The baby is coming!"