Slumbering

FIC: SLUMBERING

AUTHOR: Lily Baggins

PAIRING: Frodo/Aragorn, pre-slash, no sex really

RATING: R 

DISCLAIMER. The usual. I make no money off of this and do not own 
these characters, much to my chagrin. They belong to Tolkien 
Enterprises, or whoever has the rights now, and I only give them 
interesting---and often unpleasant---ways to spend their time.

This is my FIRST posted fanfic ever. I'm scared. 

Feedback: Sure. 

***

Aragorn sat in his room in The Prancing Pony and thoughtfully looked 
out the window at the muddy streets of Bree. A slight sound in the 
room caught his attention, and he turned to look at the four small 
beings asleep in the big bed. Sam lay on his back, his face peaceful, 
mumbling every so often. Pippin was curled up next to Sam, and the 
ranger couldn't see anything of him but a mop of sandy hair. Merry 
lay sprawled next to Pippin; as Aragorn looked at him, the hobbit 
stirred and yawned in his sleep. 

Across the end of the bed lay Frodo. In his exhaustion, the dark-
haired hobbit hadn't even joined Merry and Pippin's fight over the 
best spot to sleep in. After the other three had bedded down, Frodo 
had simply clambered up on the bed and curled up at their feet, 
falling to sleep almost immediately. He now lay huddled on his side 
facing Aragorn's chair, his hands curled into small fists under his 
chin and his curly hair strewn on the coverlet.

The sound came again. Aragorn realized it was Frodo sighing softly in 
his sleep. The hobbit stirred slightly, and a ghost of a smile play 
across his face. Aragorn studied him. Frodo's face looked cherubic in 
sleep, his small rosebud mouth slightly open. Aragorn had never 
really gone in for hobbits, finding elves to be the most beautiful of 
the races. But Frodo was, Aragorn had to admit, the most beautiful 
hobbit the ranger had ever seen. And after guarding the Shire for 
many years and visiting Bree for just as many, the ranger had seen 
plenty of the little folk. Frodo shivered slightly in his sleep, and 
the ranger cursed himself. Quietly getting up, he grabbed a blanket 
on a nearby shelf and shook it out, approaching the sleeping hobbit. 

Whatever his dreams were, they were pleasant enough, Aragorn guessed 
In fact, maybe too pleasant. Despite himself, the ranger's eyes were 
drawn to Frodo's groin, and he couldn't help but notice that, as men 
did, hobbits apparently became aroused during sleep as well. Yes, 
Frodo was having a VERY pleasant dream, by the looks of things. The 
hobbit's mouth curled up in a slight smile, and he moaned softly. Not 
a moan of pain, but very definitely of pleasure. Then, to Aragorn's 
surprise, he heard the hobbit mumble, "Strider" in his sleep. 

Wanting to stand and watch Frodo but feeling slightly like a voyeur, 
Aragorn covered him with the blanket, tucking it gently in around 
him. Frodo let out a small sigh and snuggled in the warmth. The 
ranger shook his head, looking at the four innocent beings. He had 
his work cut out for him. The hobbits seemed to have no idea of the 
danger that awaited them. Soon enough, they would all be very lucky 
to be alive, much less enjoying pleasant dreams. 

Little did he know that Frodo's dream was more than pleasant. It 
was . . . quite orgasmic. Frodo felt wakefulness returning to him 
and sighed softly. He didn't want to wake up. The dream was so nice. 
He and . . . well, best not to think about it now. Slowly Frodo 
opened his eyes. Where was he? Ah, yes, the inn at Bree. The room was 
dark except for single candle in the corner. Looking over, he saw 
Merry, Pippin, and Sam fast asleep. Frodo shifted . . . and realized 
with a hobbit's curse that his breeches were slightly sticky. The 
dream had been a little too realistic. Of all things to have happen 
when sharing a bed. Thank Elbereth, he thought, that the others were 
still asleep. He sat up slightly and pulled his blanket up --- who 
had covered him with a blanket? --- to assess the mess. Thankfully, 
not too bad. 

Then he remembered the hobbits weren't the only ones in the room. He 
looked up, and his eyes met Aragorn's. The ranger looked at him, a 
slight curve to his mouth, and raised one eyebrow. Frodo sank back 
down, his cheeks burning a fiery red. He had no idea what he'd done 
in his sleep, but apparently, it must have been something. He 
couldn't look at the Ranger. Thank all that's precious, Frodo 
thought, that the ranger didn't know what he was dreaming about.

"Frodo," Aragorn began softly, "There's no need for embarrassment. 
Soon enough, we will all be lucky to have such pleasant dreams." The 
ranger wondered if, given his previous thoughts, he himself would be 
having those pleasant dreams about Frodo. 

Frodo didn't answer. He couldn't think of an adequate response and 
lay trying to think of something to say. But before he could think of 
anything, he heard the sound of hoofbeats and the screeching of the 
Nazgul as they invaded the Prancing Pony hobbit quarters. The sound --
- loud and terrifying --- woke the sleeping hobbits, and one by one 
they sat up, started, in bed. With a groan, Frodo moved his cover 
aside and sat up on the bed's edge. Despite his pleasant dream, he 
felt weary. The Black Riders just reminded him again of the terrible 
burden he carried. 

"What are they?" he asked Aragorn. 

Aragorn looked at him thoughtfully. "They were once men." He went on 
to explain the origins of the Nazgul. 

All four hobbits looked terrified, and by this time, Frodo had nearly 
forgotten his earlier embarrassment. 

"Come now," Aragorn chided, after the sounds had died down. "They are 
gone now, and we have a long, long journey ahead of us in the 
morning. You'll need energy to keep up with me. Go back to sleep." 

The hobbits lay back down in their previous positions. Soon, Sam, 
Merry, and Pippin were asleep. Frodo, however, was having a tough 
time closing his eyes --- he kept seeing images of the Nazgul and 
thinking about what would have happened to the four of them if he and 
his hobbit companions hadn't met the ranger. They might all be dead 
now, with the Ring in the hands of the enemy. He sighed. And his 
pants still felt sticky. He squirmed in the bed, not liking the 
sensation. There was a washbowl and some towels on a dresser in the 
corner where he could clean himself up a bit. Quietly, very quietly, 
he got up and walked over to it --- only to find that the dresser was 
too high for him to reach. He stood on tiptoe, trying, but to no 
avail. He'd forgotten this was a room for Big People, not hobbits. 
Sighing softly, he began to make his way back. 

Aragorn had noticed his predicament, however. Quietly as a cat, 
Aragorn padded to the washbowl in the corner, wet a small towel for 
him, and walked back and sat down, beckoning to Frodo. Frodo crossed 
the room and stood in front of Aragorn, so that he and the Ranger 
were of about the same height. After looking in the hobbit's big blue 
eyes for any signs of fear and finding none, and making sure the 
others were still asleep, Aragorn reached out and began to unfasten 
the top of Frodo's breeches. 

"Strider, really, you don't have to . . . I didn't mean for . . ." he 
began, but the ranger shushed him with a finger to his lips. "Frodo," 
he said softly, "There is no need for embarrassment, and no need for 
you to be uncomfortable. I know the Shire-hobbits are fairly shy 
about such things, but among the Big People, I assure you, coming in 
your sleep is perfectly natural. And Frodo, sometimes the waking can 
be as pleasant as a dream." He looked at the hobbit for a response. 

Frodo looked at him with wide blue eyes and smiled slightly. "You may 
go ahead, Strider," he said. 

Frodo sucked his breath in as he watched Aragorn's nimble fingers 
undo his breeches. It was all the hobbit could do to keep his 
arousal down when he felt the light sensations over his groin. 
Finally Frodo's pants were loosened, and the Ranger gently pulled 
Frodo's undergarments away from him and sponged the hobbit's member 
with the damp rag, often looking up at Frodo and smiling. Frodo's 
eyes were closed, his mouth slightly open, a think sheen of sweat on 
his face. And he had grown aroused again. The ranger vaguely recalled 
the same look on Frodo's face in the inn's common room just before he 
pulled his disappearing act with the Ring.

"There," Aragorn said, "all cleaned up and good as new." Frodo's eyes 
snapped open and he gulped. Aragorn tossed the rag in a chamber pot. 
He eyed the hobbit's erection and Frodo looked down at himself, 
blushing furiously. 

"I know what you're feeling, Frodo," Aragorn said. "And believe me, 
you are very beautiful to me. I feel it as well, else I would not 
have done what I did just now. But unfortunately," and here the 
ranger looked past Frodo at his sleeping companions, "this is not the 
time or place. We have no privacy, and I dare not leave the others 
alone tonight. Perhaps I should not have done this. I did not mean to 
start something that cannot be finished at present."

He stroked Frodo's cheek gently, then reached down and tucked the 
hobbit's member back into his garments. Regretfully, the ranger's 
fingers refastened Frodo's breeches. Frodo stood in front of him, 
gazing at him with wide blue eyes. Aragorn gently traced the outline 
of Frodo's cheek, brushing the curly hair back from his forehead. 

"No, Strider," Frodo told him. "Do not feel regretful about it. We 
have plenty of time. Plenty of time. And I am weary now anyway." 

The ranger nodded. "Yes, Frodo, we have plenty of time. For now, we 
can at least enjoy each other's company such as we can."

He held his arms out and Frodo let the ranger pull him up onto his 
lap. Frodo scooted up close to Aragorn, straddling him, his short 
legs hanging on either side of the ranger's waist and his arms around 
Aragorn's mid-section. Aragorn wrapped his own strong arms around the 
hobbit and pulled him close, so that Frodo lay against him with his 
curly head resting on the ranger's shoulder. Frodo sighed 
contentedly. 

It was a pleasant sensation, Aragorn had to admit, holding an armful 
of this hobbit. No, more than pleasant. He was glad he wasn't 
planning on sleeping tonight. He could feel Frodo's warmth pressed 
tightly to him, and he laid his chin on top of Frodo's curly head. 
Taking a blanket, Aragorn wrapped it around the two of them. Frodo, 
his head buried in Aragorn's shoulder, sank into the safety of the 
ranger's arms and felt the depths of sleep finally claiming him. 

"Goodnight, Strider," he mumbled. 

"Goodnight, Frodo," the ranger replied. "Pleasant dreams."

"But hopefully, not too pleasant," Frodo laughed softly. Aragorn's 
mouth quirked into a grin. "My friend, may they be as pleasant as you 
want them," he said, "now and every night." And with that, he softly 
kissed the top of the hobbit's head as he held him. 


THE END 

Hobbits
Men