“Frodo, if you don’t stop squirming, I’m going to have to tie you down.”
Aragorn’s eyes widened as Frodo raised an eyebrow suggestively.
Hesitantly, Frodo relaxed. But he shot Aragorn a death glare, and Aragorn knew he’d pay for this later. Somehow.
“This is your own fault,” Aragorn continued. “If you had just let me examine you when you first started coughing, we wouldn’t be in this situation.”
Frodo continued to glare, as if he hadn’t heard. Aragorn sighed. Oh well, he thought. If this is the price I must pay...
In one fluid movement, he pinched Frodo’s nose, and then poured the thick cup of herbal remedy down his throat when he opened his mouth. Frodo coughed a bit, but he got it all down.
“That was a dirty trick.” He pouted. Aragorn would have kissed him, except he knew how foul-tasting that remedy was, and didn’t want to end up with a mouthful, courtesy Frodo.
“See? We’re all done.” Aragorn smiled, but Frodo continued to scowl.
“We’ll see,” said Frodo.
***
Aragorn coughed violently. Spots began to appear in his vision. To one side, he was aware of Frodo rolling on the floor in mirth.
He sipped desperately at his water and finally managed to get the coughing spasm under control. “That was a dirty trick, Frodo. How ever did you manage it?”
Frodo smirked. “Let’s just say I have friends in high places.” Aragorn’s thoughts went to his cook, who had befriended Frodo almost immediately after his moving to the citadel. He imagined she was laughing her head off right about now. It was rare that one got the excuse and latitude to play such a trick on the king.
Aragorn mock-scowled. The foul taste of the herbal potion was still in his mouth and Frodo was still giggling behind his hand, though he was trying to hide it.
Seeing Aragorn’s discomfort, Frodo stood up and kissed his king fully on the lips. He sauntered away. “Don’t worry, you’ll get your turn again, the next time I fall prey to one or another disease.”
Aragorn laughed heartily.