Frodo was tired. And hungry. And cold. And he kept falling in the snow. He slipped on a patch of ice and tumbled down the slope of Caradhras for what must have been the umpteenth time that day. This falling stuff was getting old. No, positively ancient. He was having a bad day, and it put him in a rotten mood.

And that was before he lost the Ring.

When Boromir, the lout who'd been contriving to steal the Ring since they'd first met, plucked it from the snow, Frodo wanted to tear him apart. Only Aragorn's hand on his shoulder kept him still. Aragorn's voice was cold as the snow beneath his poor, numb feet as he ordered the lout--erm, Boromir--to return the Ring to the Ringbearer. There was a moment when he'd thought Boromir wouldn't do it. Then the Gondorian gave it back, playing nonchalant and pretending not to care.

Frodo could see just how much he cared. His eyes burned with lust and some hint of madness when he looked at the Ring. His laugh had been cold and sharp, much like broken glass underneath the false warmth. Frodo decided to watch him even more after that, and to stay close to Aragorn. The Ranger would protect him and the Ring from Boromir.

He looked up after Boromir had headed back up the slope. He'd heard Aragorn's soft sigh, had seen his hand ease off the hilt of his sword. The Ranger would have killed the Man if he'd attacked either of them or refused to return the Ring. Even though (according to Gandalf) they needed Boromir to balance them against the Nazgul. If anyone had asked Frodo (which they hadn't), he would have left the Man in Rivendell and taken someone else. Another elf, maybe, since Sam liked them so. If you could get them to speak straight instead of in riddles, they weren't so bad. They were also useful to have around in a fight, riddles or no. Aragorn was more like an Elf than a Man. But if the majority of Men were like Boromir, he'd prefer to stay far away from them, thank you very much.

But, back to Aragorn. His blue-grey eyes were warm, as was his smile. He brushed a curl off Frodo's forehead, somehow more a gesture of genuine affection towards an equal than an adult's treatment of a child, which is how the greedy steal--um...Boromir treated him. He obviously was no child, being somewhat older than the Gondorian. Moron. Frodo would see how well Sting worked if the lout touched him again. Or maybe he'd just sic his Ranger on him. Yep, that sounded good. He'd enjoy seeing Boromir turned into shish ka bob, to be honest. Oops. He really needed to curb his violent tendencies. Darn Ring. Okay, back to Aragorn again.

Aragorn's fingers lightly brushed his cheek. Staring up at him, it was easy to forget the weight around his neck and his cold feet and hungry stomach. Well, he couldn't quite forget his stomach. But everything else? Sure. He suddenly felt quite warm, and it had noting to do with any change in the climate. He really had to work past this whole lust thing he had going for the Man. It made things difficult. Especially sleeping. Staying up half the night watching Aragorn sleep did nothing for his frustrated state. He'd barely kept from running over and jumping the Ranger's bones more than once. Aragorn had no clue how delicious he looked when he was sleeping. Frodo tried (and failed) to hide the hungry heat in his eyes.

There was a flicker of answering heat in Aragorn's eyes, as if the Man knew what was going through his mind. Now this was an interesting development. Maybe he'd actually have a chance at getting Aragorn in his bed, after all. He'd have to think about this more later. Right now the others were looking back at them, probably wondering what the hold up was. If they only knew what he was thinking right now, they'd drop their ridiculous 'sweet, innocent, virginal' view of him but quick... Nope, no time. Had to keep moving up the mountain...if Aragorn would stop looking at him with those gorgeous eyes. He couldn't move if the Man kept looking at him like that. Except maybe to take off some of those layers of clothing.

Finally they looked away from each other, Aragorn's hand falling from his shoulder. Frodo turned, walking up the slope, not feeling quite so cold (he was still just as hungry) or tired anymore.

Perhaps today wasn't such a bad day, after all.