By Lily Baggins
Slash, Frodo/Aragorn
Rated PG-13. Brief mention of MPREG.
Notes: To commemorate, albeit quite crudely, September 22nd, the day of Frodo's birth. Thank you, Iorhael, for putting this birthday celebration together!
Disclaimer: I make no money off of this (as if anyone would pay for this ficlet). I own nothing and claim no rights to Frodo or Aragorn except as characters to fuel my sick fantasies.
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Dearest Aragorn,
As you no doubt (had better be) are aware, today is my birthday. And of course, you’ve been around us hobbits long enough to know that on this special day, it’s our tradition to give mathoms to others.
But what to get the man who has everything? You already have a kingdom . . . stables full of horses . . . beautiful rooms to live in . . . wardrobes full of robes and tunics and soft leather boots (which I will never understand) . . . pantries and larders stuffed with provender (which I completely understand). . . . Really, the only thing it seems you lack is a flock of concubines (don’t get any ideas), a pod of lithe young slaves from Harad (I hear they carry diseases), or a goggle of hand-maidens willing to bear your children (not for their want of trying, I fear).
Please do not get your hopes up—for obvious reasons, this envelope does not contain any of the above. However, given the fact that I like to think of myself as a generous, fun-loving hobbit who might occasionally be considered somewhat attractive, I’ve sent you the next best thing.
Me, Frodo Baggins, at your beck and call. Please see the “coupons” enclosed for more information.
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*** REDEEMABLE FOR ONE GENUINE HOME-COOKED HOBBIT FEAST ***
You, King Elessar Telcontar of the Noble Visage, are hereby entitled, at any time day or night, to a generous meal of hobbity dishes “home-cooked” by Frodo Baggins himself. Special orders will be respected; however, the meal will most certainly include mushrooms in some form or fashion, chicken, gravies, taters, other fried items, a cream pie, a frosted cake (Frodo’s special recipe handed down from his old “Aunt” Rhododendron), and some Old Toby and strong ale to round it out. Absolutely no venison, boar, glazed fish, geese, marzipan, sugared fruit, flat breads, bull testicles, that-awful-purplish root-thing, or lembas allowed. And do not come with concerns about your waistline! We hobbits like a little meat on a man. We also like a lot of meat on a man, in the right places.
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*** REDEEMABLE FOR ONE SENSUAL SUDSY SCRUBBING ***
You, Aragorn, son of Arathorn II, are hereby entitled, at any time day or night, to a proper hobbit scrubbing while in the bath. That is, the “handy-with-his-hands” Frodo Baggins will wash your hair, your back, your arms, your chest, and all the *rest* of your body very conscientiously using only the finest well-lathering, manly-scented soaps. He will give extra-special attention to those parts that need it most. He will go slowly, missing not an inch of skin. And, he shall supply soft towels and will personally dry your every nook and cranny by hand. Or by mouth, if you wish it. If you are really, really nice, he might even get naked and join you in the water, as well. But only if you behave. Or not.
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*** REDEEMABLE FOR ONE FEAST OF THE FLESH ***
You, Possessor of the Burning Rod of Love, are hereby entitled, at any time day or night, to one rousing good time playing “hide the sausage” and “butter the corn” with none other than the lusty Frodo Baggins. He will acquiesce and accede to your wildest dreams and passions. Whips and chains? Acceptable. Oils and creams? Perfectly fine. He will call forth techniques passed down from old Gormadoc “Deep-delver” Brandybuck, so named for a reason. He will dance the Dance of the Seven Veils, if you so choose. Or perhaps a lap dance would be inspiring? Maybe the Springle-ring wearing only bells? Or feel free to indulge a fantasy, if you like. “Bree-hobbit-in-distress and rugged-ranger-to-the-rescue” scenarios? Absolutely. “Catch-me-on-Caradhras and have your way with me”? A fine idea. Anything goes . . . as long as it does not involve dwarf genitals.
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