FIC:  A HOBBIT, CAUGHT OFF HIS GUARD 1/?

AUTHOR: Lily Baggins

PAIRING: Frodo/Aragorn/Arwen

WARNINGS: HET CONTENT

RATING: NC-17  Sex. 

Disclaimers. The usual. I make no money off of this and do not own 
these characters, much to my chagrin. They belong to Tolkien 
Enterprises and New Line Productions, and I only give them 
interesting---and usually unpleasant---ways to spend their time.

**This fic is dedicated to Baranduin, who inspired it---especially 
with her Come Athelas! story. :) 

Author's note: I'm going to go ahead and use the movieverse here for 
Arwen, just because I don't feel that in the books, Arwen and Frodo 
had much of a connection until ROTK. 

***


Had he been the type of hobbit to curse in such a genteel crowd 
feasting at the Last Homely House, Frodo Baggins would have cursed, 
and quite loudly. Every time he stood to greet someone---just a 
moment before it had been one of Gimli and Gloin's companions---the 
cushions on his chair scattered to the floor. He had risen with a bit 
too much alacrity on this occasion, and they had not only fallen, but 
rolled, and then someone had unwittingly kicked them quite a long way 
under the enormous dining table.


Frodo needed his cushions---these chairs were made for Big People and 
tall Elves, and without something in the seat to boost him up a bit, 
he felt small and overwhelmed---not to mention the fact that he could 
not eat properly when the tabletop came up higher than his chest. Of 
course, even with the pillows, Frodo still felt tiny and out of 
place. He was not a wise, great Ring-bearer---he was a simple hobbit 
who had, unfortunately, gotten the adventure he'd naively wanted for 
years. 


Rivendell was beautiful, Frodo had to admit, but since the Council 
the day before, his mind had been a bit preoccupied with his 
forthcoming journey. And although he had been up and about for the 
past two days since having been ill from his Morgul-blade stabbing, 
Frodo still felt exhausted and his shoulder ached  much of the time. 
Elrond, who came to check on him often, had said that was to be 
expected.  


Rubbing his shoulder, Frodo bent and peered under the table. There 
was no help for it. He'd have to crawl under the table to retrieve 
the cushions. Not that anyone would miss him anyway, with all the 
great elf-lords and princes and people of that nature about. Not to 
mention Strider---Aragorn---he corrected himself---who was nothing 
less than a king.


Glancing up, Frodo caught sight of Aragorn---no longer the mud-caked 
ranger but a noble man clad in velvet. The first time Frodo had seen 
him dressed thus, the hobbit had barely been able to tear his eyes 
off the way the sensuous material had clung to Aragorn's trim form. 
He'd felt himself blushing furiously, afraid the ranger could read 
the desire in his eyes. 


But Aragorn belonged to Arwen, and any kindnesses and concerns he'd 
shown to Frodo had been simply to protect the Ring-bearer, nothing 
more. 


And now Arwen was sitting next to Aragorn, gazing into the ranger's 
eyes.  For just a moment, she looked Frodo's way and the hobbit 
quickly looked back down, embarrassed to be caught staring at the 
lovely couple. He could barely look at Arwen, so breathtaking was 
she. He, a hobbit from the Shire, had no right to entertain the 
thoughts he was entertaining. Frodo shook his head, thinking of how 
many jokes he'd already heard from Pippin about the injustice of 
Frodo's being far too ill to appreciate being cradled against the 
breasts of Arwen Undomiel.


He was going to go for it, Frodo decided---the cushions, that was. He 
needed the cushions and there was no postponing it. Kneeling down, he 
crawled halfway under the table, and all the folk about him were 
quite oblivious. Under his hands and knees the rug was soft and 
velvety . . . and he could see myriads of booted legs and slippered 
feet about. No hairy feet like his own, though---the other hobbits 
had declined to attend the feast, preferring to keep company 
together. 


Only Frodo had gone, because Elrond had kindly asked him to, and 
because some tiny part of Frodo wanted to see Aragorn. He knew the 
ranger was leaving the next day on a scouting expedition with 
Elrond's sons, Elladan and Elrohir, and might not be back for days, 
or even weeks. Not that it mattered that Frodo had attended---Aragorn 
had been preoccupied all evening with Arwen and other important 
people, and the Ring-bearer had not even been able to get near him.


Ah---there was the farthest cushion, but a few feet in front of him. 
Frodo crawled toward it, reaching, and couldn't suppress a grunt of 
pain as a booted foot accidentally kicked him hard in the left 
shoulder---his recently wounded and still-quite-sore shoulder. The 
hobbit's eyes watered for a moment as he put a hand up to the injured 
spot, willing the pain to recede. 


Suddenly light streamed in under the table and Frodo jumped. Someone 
had lifted the edge of the tablecloth.


"Frodo! Are you all right? And what in Middle-earth are you doing 
under there?"


Aragorn. The hobbit sighed. The ranger probably already thought him a 
fool after the Ring incident in Bree and crawling under tables was 
just going to seal the nails into the pine coffin. 


Frodo grimaced and raised his eyes to meet the man's---who was 
looking at the hobbit's delicate face with a look of utter 
astonishment. Which quickly changed to amusement as Aragorn lifted an 
eyebrow and waited for an explanation. 


"I am retrieving my chair cushions," Frodo told him a bit 
breathlessly and a little more crossly than he'd intended to. He 
hadn't anticipated being spied under the table---least of all by 
Aragorn. The pain from being kicked wasn't helping either, and Frodo 
found himself become a bit peeved for no good reason. What else did 
the ranger think he'd be doing under the table? Waiting for crumbs? 
Looking up ladies' skirts? 


"Well, then, here, Frodo, let me help you . . ." Aragorn's eyes 
narrowed as he saw Frodo's white-knuckled hand clutching his 
shoulder. "Frodo, are you feeling ill? Does your shoulder hurt?"


The hobbit shook his head. "No, no, someone just accidentally kicked 
me, that's all. It's my fault own for being under the table and in 
the way. Thank you, Aragorn---I shall return to my seat now." Hastily 
he grabbed the cushion the ranger had picked up and crawling off 
hurriedly back to his seat, picking up the other pillows along the 
way. 


His shoulder was still smarting, and settling the pillows back upon 
his chair, Frodo plopped himself on top of them and quickly finished 
his dinner, after which he began feeling weary. Truthfully, he longed 
to return to his room with a good book from one of Rivendell's 
exhaustive libraries. Gimli and Gloin were discussing in detail the 
marvels of mithril mining, and soon Frodo felt himself nodding off.
 

At last there was a brief lull in the dwarves' conversation, and 
Frodo quietly slipped off his chair and bid goodnight to Gimli and 
Gloin before leaving the great hall. On his way out, the hobbit 
turned back briefly to look at the table full of merrymakers. He 
tried not to let his eyes linger on any one person, but he couldn't 
help himself---he wanted one last glance at Aragorn before the ranger 
left Rivendell.

 
However, as Frodo's gaze drifted to the man, Aragorn glanced up from 
afar and met the hobbit's eyes, watching Frodo with curiosity. 
Gulping, Frodo quickly turned away and strode out the door and to his 
room for some much-needed rest and contemplation. 


***


AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm going to follow book canon a tad here (imagine 
that!) If you recall, Aragorn wasn't appointed to go with Frodo on 
the Quest until the hobbits had been at Rivendell for at least two 
months---he never voiced his intention to accompany Frodo at the 
Council (although he did pledge his loyalty at Bree in the books) So, 
I'm going to use that to my story's advantage. 


***

On the way to his room Frodo stopped by Rivendell's huge library. He 
thought he might return to his sleeping chambers, slip into the 
bathtub, and read a bit afterward. Lord Elrond had bade him to browse 
the library to his heart's content and borrow whatever volume he 
wished. Tonight the library was vacant, and moving quietly through 
the shelves, Frodo did not take long to select a few books.


Back in his room, the hobbit found that, as he had known they would 
be, boiling kettles of water were ready to be poured into his bath 
and fresh towels had been laid out. A nice fire had been had been 
built up in the hearth as well. The elves of Rivendell spared no 
effort in seeing to the comfort of their honored guests and the Ring-
bearer in particular. Frodo knew that Elrond was keeping very close 
tabs on his health and made certain Frodo's sleeping chambers were as 
warm and comfortable as possible. 


Frodo still found the room chilly, however, even with the fire---for 
the past couple of days, since waking from his injury, he'd had a 
difficult time tolerating all but the warmest temperatures. Pulling 
the shades about the room for privacy and laying his nightshirt out 
on the bed, he poured the kettles of hot water into the cool water 
already in the bathtub and climbed in, reveling in the heat and even 
lathering his hair. His shoulder *had* been aching, and the warmth 
made it feel much better.


Twenty minutes later, he had just stepped out of the tub---still 
dripping, his hair in wet ringlets---when a knock sounded at the 
door. Sam, definitely. It was too late to be Bilbo and too early to 
be Pippin or Merry. Definitely Sam. The younger hobbit kept just as 
close a tabs on Frodo's health as Elrond---no, Frodo decided---
closer. He smiled---he was glad Sam was accompanying him on the 
Quest. It would make the terrible journey easier to bear. 

He sighed, wishing fervently that Aragorn might decide to go. But no--
-the ranger was going with Boromir to Miinas Tirith. Frodo would have 
to cope without him. 


Quickly grabbing a large towel and wrapping it all about his 
shivering body, Frodo shook the negative thoughts out of his head and 
padded out to the main sleeping chamber. 


"Come in," he called, yawning. "I know it's you, Sam. And I am 
telling you I'm fine before you even walk through the door. I 
appreciate the thought, but I don't require checking on all the time. 
You must sleep too, you know, and look after yourself." 

The door opened slowly as a voice---a voice much deeper than Sam's---
said, with what sounded like amusement, "It is not Sam, Frodo. Might 
I be allowed to enter anyway?"


Frodo gulped---it was Aragorn. Hastily the hobbit looked down at 
himself to make certain that his towels were covering all the right 
spots. Not that Aragorn had not seen him unclothed before. The 
ranger, after all, had done much to take care of him after he'd been 
stabbed at Weathertop, on the road and at Rivendell as well---Frodo 
even vaguely remembered Aragorn bathing him---but this was different. 
Now, Frodo was totally in his right mind and fully conscious of the 
ranger's intimidating presence. 


"Oh, Aragorn," the hobbit said, going to the door and opening it all 
the way, "I am sorry . . . I honestly had expected it to be Sam---he 
can be rather overly unctuous about checking on me. Come right in." 


Chuckling, Aragorn stepped into the room, his gray-blue eyes settling 
on Frodo's face and taking in the hobbit's wet hair and state of 
undress under the large towel. The ranger was still wearing his 
velvet finery, and Frodo found himself hard put to keep from 
blushing. 


"Ah, I see I interrupted your bath, little one. I am sorry." 


The hobbit shook his head. "No, I had already gotten out and was just 
preparing to read a bit. You did not interrupt at all." For a moment 
his heart clutched in fear that Aragorn had arrived at this hour to 
break some sort of bad news to him, and he looked up at the ranger, 
his blue eyes widening. 


"Aragorn . . . what brings you here this time of night? Is everyone 
all right? Is Bilbo . . . ?" 


The ranger held his hand up. "No, Frodo, Bilbo and everyone else is 
fine. Actually, I was . . . being overly unctuous . . . and calling 
on you to make certain *you* were all right."


Frodo blinked as he shivered a bit. "Oh," was the only word he could 
get out for a moment before he recovered. The ranger was probably 
there to chastise him for crawling about under the feasting 
table. "Did Lord Elrond send you?" 


"No, he did not. Actually, when you left the feast early I suspected 
perhaps your shoulder might be ailing you again, and I wanted to 
check and see for myself that you were recovering properly before I 
leave tomorrow for my journey. For my own peace of mind, you might 
say."


With a few long strides Aragorn walked to the washroom and grabbed a 
large towel, and to Frodo's surprise, the ranger returned and 
absently began to rub the hobbit's wet hair with it. Frodo looked 
down at himself, suddenly very grateful that his towel hid his groin, 
which was beginning to feel very hot.


"Aragorn . . . truly . . . you should not have to spend part of your 
last evening here in Rivendell looking after me . . .  Arwen is 
probably searching for you and wondering where you have gone. . ."


The ranger's lips quirked up as he drew Frodo over to sit on the bed, 
feeling the hobbit's face and neck to be certain he was not running a 
temperature. Frodo tried to keep an expressionless face as the man's 
cool hands touched his skin. He squirmed a bit as he felt himself 
becoming aroused, hoping the ranger would not notice. 

"Fear not," Frodo," the man was saying, causing the hobbit to jump as 
he realized his thoughts had strayed to his groin. "Arwen knows quite 
well where I am. In fact, she is coming by for just a moment to bring 
you some chamomile tea---it will relax you and help you to sleep 
soundly tonight. Now, I have brought some salve for your shoulder as 
well."


Frodo nodded, swallowing hard. He was already flustered to be naked 
in the room with the ranger and he hoped he would have a chance to 
dress before Arwen made her appearance. 


Kneeling before Frodo, Aragorn pulled the towel down off the hobbit's 
ivory-skinned shoulder, baring the healing wound. Dipping his fingers 
in the salve, he gently covered the scar with it as Frodo tried not 
to flinch.


"Hurts, does it?" Aragorn asked him softly. "Elrond said it likely 
would for some time. Of course, getting kicked while crawling under 
the table is of no help." He smiled, glancing up for a moment to meet 
Frodo's eyes, and the hobbit could feel the ranger's warm breath on 
his shoulder. "And you do seem to spend a fair amount of time 
underneath tables, Master Baggins. I well remember the Bree incident."


Frodo scowled. "I don't believe I could forget it." 


"Well," Aragorn continued, "no harm done tonight. Next time I believe 
I will ask Elrond for a taller chair for you." With that, Aragorn 
rose, grabbing Frodo's nightshirt from the bed and handing it to 
him. "Not very hobbit-like here in Rivendell, is it, Frodo?" 


Frodo looked down, fingering the soft linen material in his 
hands. "No, but it is very pleasant. I feel as if I could stay here 
for years, simply resting---without a long, dark journey to embark on 
soon."


Aragorn was about to say something when another knock sounded at the 
door. The ranger opened it to admit Arwen, still clad in the white 
lace dress she'd worn to the feast and carrying a steaming tray. She 
flashed a smile at Frodo, who was suddenly even more grateful for his 
concealing towels. Walking toward the bedside table, the elf-maid set 
the tray down, and Frodo did his best to keep his eyes from following 
her graceful movements. 


"Would you like any help with that, Master Frodo?" she turned and 
asked him, indicating his nightshirt. 


The hobbit stammered a bit in reply. "No, but thank you, Lady Arwen." 
Jumping off the bed, Frodo walked, with his towels *very* securely 
wrapped about him, to his washroom to change, noticing that Aragorn 
was regarding him with amusement. The ranger had apparently noticed 
his embarrassment and obvious gaze upon the man's betrothed. 


When he came out clad in his nightshirt, hoping the cloth was opaque 
enough not to reveal anything underneath, Aragorn and Arwen were 
sitting on a divan next to his bed, talking quietly. Suddenly Frodo 
felt a pang of guilt over their spending so much time looking after 
him---a hobbit who seemed to get himself into the worst sorts of 
scrapes---instead of being alone together, as they should have been. 
He spoke up. 


"Thank you, Aragorn, Lady Arwen . . . I believe I shall drink my tea 
and try to sleep. I had intended to read for a while, but find I'm 
rather tired." He tried unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn. "I  . . .  
have appreciated your company tonight." He wanted to say something to 
Aragorn---he wanted to wish the ranger a safe trip, or say something 
deep and wise-sounding, but it was futile. He could not seem to form 
the appropriate words. 


The ranger nodded as he pulled the bedclothes back for Frodo, waiting 
until the hobbit had climbed up into the huge soft bed before tucking 
the blankets in about him and handing him his cup of tea. Frodo lay 
back and sipped it, eyeing the lovely couple and hoping they would 
leave soon so that he could relax. If he could relax after being 
around them for so long. He felt keyed up because of their presence 
now and gulped his tea, hoping it would calm him. 


Arwen fluffed Frodo's pillows while Aragorn picked the hobbit's books 
up off the bed. Examining the spine of one, the ranger raised his 
eyebrows. "A fine choice of reading material, Frodo. Quite an . . . 
er . . . rather erotic story, if I recall properly." He turned and 
nailed the hobbit with a mischievous glance. "Not exactly the type of 
book one would find in the Shire, I suspect."


Lowering his cup of tea, Frodo stared back at him with a small 
smile. "Unfortunately." 


Aragorn laughed as he laid the books on the bedside table. "As usual, 
a hobbit manages to surprise me. Well, I suppose I should know better 
by now. Lay back and rest now---Arwen and I will stay a bit and keep 
the fire going well until you are asleep. I know you've had 
difficulty keeping warm at night." He rose to snuff out the lamps in 
the room and stoke up the fire in the hearth. 


Frodo looked at Aragorn and Arwen, a bit puzzled. "How did you know I 
am often cold at night?" 


This time Arwen turned her gaze on him and smiled. "We have come in 
the past two nights to check on you after you are asleep, Ring-
bearer, to tend to the fire and to you as well. My father said you 
would have difficulty retaining your body heat after your Morgul-
blade wound." 


Frodo looked at her gratefully. "Thank you," he whispered, feeling 
overwhelmed by their kindness. He handed her his empty tea cup and 
curled up on his side into the comfort of the sheets with a sigh. The 
bed was very soft and quite luxurious, but as he had expected, he 
felt rather cold and he shivered. Noticing his chill, Arwen sat down 
on the edge of the bed and gently rubbed Frodo's back. The hobbit's 
eyes widened as he felt his groin tighten but he did not move, and 
after a few minutes he was grateful to feel the tea relaxing him and 
soothing him to sleep.   


A while later---how much later he was not certain---Frodo thought he 
was dreaming when he felt the bed move and a warm body settle on each 
side of him and snuggle close. Half asleep, he sighed. Whatever was 
going on, he was delightfully warm for the first time since he'd been 
wounded, and that's all he realized as he drifted off once more. 



***


Frodo's nose twitched and he stirred in his sleep, coming a bit to 
wakefulness. Something was tickling his face and he yawned loudly. He 
was so warm . . . delightfully warm and comfortable. . . oh yes, he 
was planning to enjoy several more hours of blissful sleep. Yawning 
again, he rolled over onto his side and pulled the covers up more 
tightly about himself. 


To his irritation, his nose started itching again and he wrinkled it 
up, frowning---if there was a fly in his room he was going to be 
extremely annoyed. Without opening his eyes Frodo reached up to brush 
the offending perpetrator away. But instead his hand hit something 
soft---something that felt suspiciously like silky tresses---and he 
warily raised his eyelids halfway. The room was still quite dark 
except for moonlight streaming through the window shades and the fire 
glowing in the hearth, and it took a moment for his vision to adjust.
 

When he could finally see more clearly, he opened his eyes impossibly 
wide and gulped. Surely he was dreamingl---or hallucinating. But 
Frodo did not close his eyes again; instead studying intently the 
slim curves of the elf-woman who rested beside him.


Arwen lay on her back, her long dark hair spilling over onto Frodo's 
pillow. He first noticed her face, pale and beautiful in sleep, 
before his eyes traveled down her graceful neck, adorned with the 
white pendant she always wore, to stop at her breasts.  She wore 
nothing but a pale blue silk chemise, and the hobbit could plainly 
see the outline of her nipples underneath. He took a deep breath and 
only by sheer force of will was he able to resist leaning up on one 
elbow for a better view. 


What was she doing in his bed? Thinking hard, Frodo vaguely recalled 
Arwen and Aragorn slipping into bed with him just after vowing to 
keep him from becoming chilled during the night. Which meant, of 
course, that Aragorn . . . 


Realization hit him, and Frodo swallowed hard as he became aware of a 
man's steady breathing behind him. Aragorn, of course. The hobbit 
knew the ranger's presence without even turning to look after so many 
nights spent sharing a campsite---and often, after Frodo's injury 
when he was in grievous pain---a bedroll as well. 


Now Aragorn lay bare-chested on his side behind Frodo, just a bit shy 
of actually touching him. Turning his head and raising the bedclothes 
a bit to peek under them, Frodo sighed with relief to note that 
Aragorn was at least still wearing his breeches. If he had been 
naked . . . the hobbit knew he would never get to sleep. But still, 
the ranger was very close . . . close enough to share body heat, and 
Frodo could feel the man's breath on the back of his neck as it 
softly stirred his hair. The hobbit shut his eyes for a moment, 
simply reveling in the man's presence. 


*But perhaps I should wake them up so that they may return to their 
chambers and be alone together,* he thought. *Surely they would be 
more comfortable there than here, in bed with me of all people.*


However, both were sleeping so soundly that Frodo didn't have the 
heart to jar them from their slumber. Sighing, he closed his eyes and 
tried to settle himself down as he prepared to go back to sleep. But 
not before, with a tiny smile and feeling just a bit wicked, he 
scooted backward just a hair so that his back and buttocks lightly 
touched Aragorn's firm body. He might never again see the ranger, 
Frodo justified to himself, since Aragorn was leaving soon. And Frodo 
would himself be setting out on his dangerous quest in a few weeks. 
Therefore, he felt entitled to one night of drowning in the man's 
nearness. 


Too late, however, Frodo realized that his movement had caused 
Aragorn to stir, and before he knew exactly what was happening the 
ranger had wrapped a strong arm about Frodo's chest and pulled him 
close so that the hobbit lay nicely tucked up under the man's chin; 
their bodies spooned tightly together under the covers.  


*Oh dear,* Frodo thought to himself, his eyes wide. *Aragorn probably 
thinks in his sleep that I am Arwen. He'll be quite embarrassed when 
he finds out differently.*


But he wasn't complaining . . . the feeling of Aragorn's warm arms 
about him was comforting and arousing beyond belief. And then . . . 
he felt it . . . Aragorn's hard erection pressing up against his 
bottom. Frodo groaned softly at the sensation as he felt his own 
member respond in kind, cursing himself for his foolishness in 
rousing the man. Now he *truly* would never be able to get back to 
sleep. 


Frodo sighed---then stiffened in surprise as Aragorn's hand brushed 
the hobbit's dark curly hair back from his earlobe and a wet mouth 
made contact with the tender skin just below it. Suddenly Aragorn's 
voice drifted softly to him, so deep and close to his ear that Frodo 
nearly jumped. 


"Are you all right?" the ranger murmured. "I didn't mean to surprise 
you so . . . if this is uncomfortable for you I will stop."


"Aragorn . . . uh . . .  I didn't realize you were awake," Frodo 
managed to stammer, blinking, remembering the feel of that wetness on 
his neck. "But . . . I . . . uh . . . I am Frodo, not Arwen. She's 
sleeping on the other side of me here. Just in case you have not yet 
realized that." 


"I am well aware of who you are, Frodo," Aragorn whispered, 
amused. "I am a ranger, remember---even in my sleep I would not 
mistake one person for another."


Frodo coughed, trying to clear the giddy thoughts running about in 
his mind. "Oh, uh . . . all right. Well .  . . in that case, 
feel . . . feel free to continue with what you were doing."


Grunting in the affirmative, Aragorn's lips descended upon the soft 
neck again, but this time the ranger's hand also glided down Frodo's 
side to caress his hips and buttocks.  Squirming and arching his back 
a bit as Aragorn touched a particularly ticklish area, the hobbit 
turned his head to regard the ranger, just barely getting the words 
out. 


"Aragorn, if you don't mind my asking, why . . ."


The ranger paused in his ministrations only long enough to 
answer. "Because it is high time you lived out your fantasies instead 
of only reading about them in books," he replied absentmindedly as he 
nibbled on an earlobe. 


"My fantasies?" The sound nearly came out as a squeak as Aragorn 
reached over Frodo's hip, seeking, and finally found what he was 
looking for. The hobbit gasped as he felt the large hand gently 
settle on his throbbing member through the thin material of his 
nightshirt. 


"Don't tell me that hobbits do not have fantasies, Frodo. I know 
better."


Frodo stifled a choking noise as the hand rubbed a bit before moving 
away to once more smooth his hair. "You do?"


"Yes, I do, but I have not spoken of it. You want to be with me . . . 
I know that." 


*Snakes and adders. How in the name of Middle-earth had Aragorn found 
that out? Had Frodo been that obvious?  The Dunedain were not mind 
readers . . .* 


But Aragorn was continuing with his talk as his hand cupped the 
hobbit's chin. "I would not have spoken of it for fear of 
embarrassing you. But since we are here . . . now . . . well . . . 
you talked long in your sleep when you were wounded by the Morgul-
blade, little one."


Frodo felt his cheeks flaming with redness and raised a hand to cover 
his face in shame. "Elbereth, Aragorn, I never meant for you to . . . 
honestly, I was delusional---I had no idea . . ."


The ranger cut him off. "I am glad you voiced it, my dear hobbit, for 
I would never otherwise have felt comfortable fulfilling one of my 
urges. I find you very desirable and long have I wanted to bed you. 
And my beloved Arwen has no qualms about my doing so."


Speechless, Frodo only nodded. "But . . ."


"We have had enough talk tonight, I think," Aragorn murmured as he 
rose up to capture Frodo's mouth with his own, willing the soft lips 
to open. But the hobbit could only lay there, staring at Aragorn with 
round eyes, his mouth motionless. 


Pulling away, Aragorn looked sternly down at him. "Do you want this, 
Frodo? If so, let me know. You are a sensual creature, despite the 
fact that you try to deny it."


"Yes, I . . . I do indeed want it. I am only surprised because I 
never thought it could possibly happen."


The corners of the ranger's mouth curved up. "It is happening. Give 
in to it."


Nodding, Frodo leaned up and Aragorn gently turned him so that their 
mouths met once more. The hobbit closed his eyes and enjoyed the 
sensation of the man's full lips upon his; the friction of Aragorn's 
bearded face rubbing against his skin. Frodo parted his mouth as the 
ranger increased the pressure and delved deep, his large tongue 
exploring the sweetness inside. 


"Elbereth, you taste so good," Aragorn muttered. He had time to take 
one breath before Frodo wrapped his arms about the ranger's neck and 
drew him back down. 


"I'm giving in to my lustful urges," the hobbit whispered as he 
arched his neck and caught the other's lips with his own. This time 
Frodo thrust his tongue into Aragorn's mouth, kissing the man deeply 
before pulling away to lavish attention on the ranger's broad chest. 
As his lips lingered over a nipple Aragorn emitted a rather loud 
groan. 


Next to them Arwen stirred and stretched in her sleep. Slowly opening 
her eyes, she looked over at her betrothed holding Frodo and smiled.


***


Frodo felt dizzy from the sheer headiness of it all as his hands 
gripped Aragorn's slick shoulders tightly. Seeing Arwen stir, 
however, he reluctantly pulled away from the man, burrowing back down 
among his pillows as his cheeks flushed bright red. Aragorn, 
breathing rather heavily, rolled over onto his side and smiled at his 
betrothed. 


"You need not have stopped on my account," Arwen told them, her eyes 
sparkling as they fixed on Aragorn and then lingered on Frodo. "It 
was rather a pleasant sight to wake up to."


The hobbit gulped, daring himself to speak. "So . . . this does not 
bother you? Aragorn and I, engaging in such . . . things?" His voice 
caught and he could not quite bring himself to voice a more clinical 
word for what they were doing in front of the elf. Additionally, he 
didn't know *exactly* what the ranger's intentions were . . . was 
Aragorn planning to partake in something simple with him . . . or was 
he aiming for something a bit more . . . . complex? Just thinking 
about the possibilities made Frodo lightheaded. 


He came back to the present as Arwen shook her head. "No," she 
answered simply as she raised a finger to trace Frodo's lips, 
effectively causing him to jump. "I might be compelled to join you, 
however---that is, if you have no objections, Master Hobbit." 


"Um, yes, please . . . uh . . . please do join . . . us," Frodo 
stammered politely, sounding more as if he were asking a lass to a 
Hobbiton tea party than inviting the Evenstar of her people to 
partake in sexual activity.  


"Very good." With a knowing glance at Aragorn, Arwen scooted close to 
Frodo and leaned up over him, her hair falling about them both in a 
shining curtain. Frodo found her face more than lovely, but it was to 
her breasts that his eyes were immediately drawn---they were 
perfectly rounded, spilling out of her thin nightgown, and only 
inches away from his face. 


As those breasts moved closer he did his best to divert his glance to 
perhaps the ceiling or the fire glowing in the hearth. But it wasn't 
working. He was used to looking at hobbit bosoms---which were very 
nice, but usually quite tiny compared to a Big Person's. And 
Arwen's . . . well, for Frodo, they would make quite more than a 
handful indeed. Thinking such thoughts, he immediately reddened---but 
still could not force his eyes away.

 
But the hobbit's preoccupation only caused the elf maiden to laugh 
softly, and taking one of his small hands in hers, she placed it on 
her left breast, watching Frodo's mouth open slightly in surprise. 


"It is all right," she whispered. "Go ahead and touch as you like." 


Frodo reminded himself to breathe. He could smell the light scent of 
Arwen's perfume as she looked at him, coupled with Aragorn's 
masculine woodsy scent, and it was an overwhelming sensation indeed. 
Swiftly he glanced at Aragorn, his eyes questioning, and swallowed. 
He wondered what the ranger was thinking---seeing Frodo's hand 
cupping his lover's . . . 


But the ranger spoke up immediately, his eyes approving. "We are all 
in this together tonight, Frodo . . . do as your heart and mind bid 
you."


Nodding and biting his lip, Frodo hesitantly circled the mound of her 
breast with his fingertips, stilling to feel her nipple through the 
smooth fabric of the gown. She smiled seductively and  without 
further hesitation, grasped the hem of her garment and began to peel 
it off. Aragorn leaned over to help, and to Frodo's surprise, he 
found himself helping as well, grabbing handfuls of the pale blue 
silk until Arwen knelt nude before them on the bed. 


*Whatever you do, don't hyperventilate,* Frodo told himself, and as 
he gazed upon her, he committed every curve to memory. Of course he 
had known she would be beautiful, so he ought not to have been 
surprised, and he felt himself growing harder as his eyes drank in 
her ivory skin, finely molded shoulders, breasts that were even more 
remarkable when bared, and the slim waist leading down to long, 
shapely legs. And in between those legs, a mound of hair as dark as 
that on her head, promising much.


"So, does what you see please you, Frodo?" she asked him gently, 
enjoying the hobbit's wide-eyed stare. 


"Mmmm-hmm . . ."


"I think that indeed it does, my love," Aragorn answered for him, 
grinning. "As  you know it pleases me."


Arwen lowered her eyes for a moment, blushing the tiniest bit from 
her betrothed's remark, and then slid down to lay beside Frodo, 
facing him. Frodo still lay on his back, and now he had Aragorn on 
one side---still in his breeches but bare-chested, the ranger's skin 
warm against Frodo's body; and Arwen on the other side. The elf 
maiden moved closer and snuggled up against Frodo, draping one 
delicate knee over his nightshirt-covered legs even as her firm 
breasts pushed up against his shoulder. 


*This cannot be happening* Frodo was thinking. Not that he didn't 
*want* it to happen---but one small hobbit from the Shire rarely 
expects to be seduced by the possibly future king and queen of Gondor-
--and at the same time, no less. Frodo wwas glad Aragorn was there---
left with Arwen alone, he was quite certain he would be unable to 
move or speak, let alone . . .


He choked for a second---surely she was not expecting him to . . . 
oh, surely not . . . he did not want her to see him *naked.* The elf 
woman was used to Aragorn . . . tall, well-muscled . . . well-endowed-
--or so the hobbit had imagined in his vvarious fantasies on the 
subject. While Frodo knew he could hold his own among hobbits (having 
gone swimming in the nude with various Brandybucks many times as a 
lad, and as boys will be boys, boy hobbits will be boy hobbits) he 
would *die* before he let Arwen Undomiel espy his more delicate 
parts. For a moment, he wished he was Pippin, who doubtless would 
already have . . .  


Suddenly he became aware of two masculine hands easing themselves up 
under the hem of his nightshirt and slowly gliding up the tops of his 
thighs, causing the cottony-soft garment to bunch up about his groin, 
merely teasing his erect member even more. Frodo moaned softly as the 
warm hands settled at his hips, moving in circles but never quite 
touching his most sensitive area, before lowering to cup his bare 
bottom.


"Uhhhh . . . Aragorn . . ." 


"Yes, Frodo?" 


"I think he is enjoying it, Estel," Arwen told him with a soft laugh.
 

The hobbit groaned, arching his back, his breath coming quickly. But 
just as suddenly he grimaced as a familiar pain shot through his 
shoulder before settling to a dull ache. Quickly Frodo tried to hide 
it, but both Aragorn and Arwen had seen. Just as abruptly the ranger 
pulled away, looking at the dewy face just inches from his. 


"Your shoulder is causing you some pain, is it not, little one?" the 
ranger asked him, not waiting for an answer as he bent to unbutton 
Frodo's nightshirt. 


"Just a bit of pain, Aragorn . . .  nothing different from what I 
felt earlier. I expect it will hurt for some time. It's better now."


The man nodded as he bared the wound and gently caressed it, sending 
shivers up Frodo's spine. "Yes, an injury such as this one will make 
its presence known for a long time, I am afraid. Your muscles are 
tight, Frodo . . . adding to your pain. But there are ways to ease 
your suffering. They require, however, that you be . . . unclothed." 
He leaned in close, his hair brushing Frodo's cheek. "Surely this 
nightshirt has outlived its usefulness?" 


"I certainly think so, my love," Arwen put in, taking Frodo's arm 
nearest her and gently removing it from its sleeve. 


Frodo looked from one to the other of them, biting his lower lip, as 
he realized he was about to be defrocked. What if they were 
disappointed at his smallness? What if they found him ungainly? "Uh, 
are you certain you want to see this? I mean . . . I can't possibly 
compare to . . ."


Arwen shushed him with a finger to his lips. "Do not say that, Frodo. 
You are perfect just as you are." She smiled down at him 
mischievously. "I have seen you without clothing before, Ring-bearer."


Well, that was news. "Uh, after I was injured, I presume?"


"Yes, I helped to care for you. I am not surprised you don't remember-
--you were extremely ill. At one point II bathed you with lavender 
water to warm you up. It was impossible not to notice your beauty, 
Frodo."


"I see. Well then, if you are certain . . ."


"Hush now. Estel, help me to remove this garment."


Frodo lacked the speech to protest as the two of them gently sat him 
up and pulled the gown over his head. In short order the nightshirt 
was off and tossed carelessly onto the head of a nearby statue. 
Aragorn settled him back in the bed amongst the soft sheets and 
pillows and Frodo sighed, feeling the cool air breeze past his nude 
body and quite self-conscious now of his rather erect penis on 
display. He swallowed, almost wishing the bed would swallow him up, 
but their eyes only looked at him appreciatively. 


"You are exquisite, Frodo," Arwen whispered as one slim hand grazed 
Frodo's thigh, causing him to squirm. "In a way quite unlike most 
hobbits."


"Perfect," Aragorn added, exhaling deeply as his eyes drank in the 
expanse of Frodo's marble-pale skin, the dark pink nipples, the fully 
erect shaft with its dewy tip. His lips curved up at the 
corners. "And exhibiting the highest fortitude for one of his kind." 
He grinned. "Lest you think the outer package is all we are 
interested in, my dear hobbit. Now, stay still a moment." 


With great alacrity Aragorn hopped off the bed, returning with a jar 
of sweet-smelling ointment. "This will help those tense muscles of 
yours and should ease the shoulder pain too, I think. Now, turn over--
-on your stomach." 


"All right," Frodo whispered, his eyes going back and forth between 
them to settle on Aragorn. His eyes crinkled up and he smirked a bit, 
purposely dropping his eyes to the bulge between the ranger's legs as 
he began feeling a bit bolder. Arwen was a beauty, but for how long 
had Frodo fantasized about this moment with Aragorn? Far too 
long. "Is it not unfair, however, that the Lady Arwen and I are the 
only ones here who are unclothed?" he asked.  


Arwen turned to Aragorn, her eyes shining. "Most unfair. I do believe 
it is your turn, Estel."


"Yes, indeed, you are correct. Very well then, one moment." 
Momentarily diverting his eyes from his two lovers' nakedness---a 
difficult task to accomplish---the ranger rose up on the bed and 
began to unfasten his breeches. Frodo gingerly moved to help, his 
nimble fingers flashing as he worked on the lacings, causing Aragorn 
to laugh, delighted. 


"You are not quite the extremely shy hobbit you were just a while 
earlier, Frodo." 


The hobbit only glanced up at him with a wry smile. "I suppose I 
learn quickly."


Arwen raised one eyebrow. "And what you do not know, we will teach 
you."


To be continued 

TITLE: A Hobbit, Caught Off His Guard, 5/8

AUTHOR: Lily Baggins

PAIRING: Frodo/Aragorn/Arwen

WARNING: HET CONTENT

RATING: NC-17  Sex. 

Disclaimers. The usual. I make no money off of this and do not own 
these characters, much to my chagrin. They belong to Tolkien 
Enterprises and New Line Productions, and I only give them 
interesting---and usually unpleasant---ways to spend their time.

**This fic is dedicated to Baranduin, who inspired it---especially 
with her Come Athelas! story. :) 

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm going to follow book canon a tad here (imagine 
that!) If you recall, Aragorn wasn't appointed to go with Frodo on 
the Quest until the hobbits had been at Rivendell for at least two 
months---he never voiced his intention to accompany Frodo at the 
Council (although he did pledge his loyalty at Bree in the books) So, 
I'm going to use that to my story's advantage. 

***

*And what you do not know, we will teach you.*

Hearing those words, Frodo momentarily froze, pulling his hands back 
from the lacings on Aragorn's breeches. This was getting serious---it 
hit him that Aragorn and Arwen were definitely wanting to do 
certain . . . things with him. Probably wanted to do things *to* 
him . . . very interesting things . . . some---if not most---of which 
Frodo had never done before. 

As if those thoughts weren't suddenly making Frodo lightheaded, 
Aragorn had just pushed his velvet breeches down over his hips and 
was even now pulling them off entirely, Arwen helping. "Frodo, would 
you mind doing the honors?" the ranger asked as he held out one leg. 
Nodding, the hobbit grasped the end of the legging and pulled . . . 
and suddenly was holding a pair of very soft leggings and looking at 
a very nude Aragorn. He gulped. 

The reality was better than the fantasy---oh, so much better. He'd 
already known, of course, that Aragorn had a trim but well-muscled 
upper body leading down to narrow hips and an extremely . . . perky---
Frodo could think of no other word to describe it---rear for a man 
his size, but to see it all at once was just a bit overwhelming. 
Unable to help himself, Frodo found his eyes drawn the man's upright 
member, which was thick and almost frighteningly large. 

He became aware suddenly that both Arwen and Aragorn were staring at 
him, smiles on their faces, and he immediately snapped his eyes back 
up, feeling quite foolish, to Aragorn's face, his eyes wide, as he 
tried to force words out.  

"I . . . uh . . . I did not mean to stare, Aragorn," the hobbit told 
him, choosing his words carefully. "I apologize . . . I've not really 
seen a man's . . . of course there was that time on the trail that we 
bathed, but you weren't aroused . . . uh, but please don't think I 
was looking---I was not, truly . . ." Realizing he was digging 
himself into an ever-deeper hole with every sentence, Frodo fell 
silent and bit his lips.

But Aragorn was obviously much entertained and quite enjoying the 
hobbit's predicament. Before Frodo could speak again, the ranger 
scooted close and gently pushed him down among the pillows and soft 
bedclothes, his genitals very close. Frodo did his best not to gape 
at the sight, and to resist the urge to wrap one small hand 
about . . . 

"Frodo," Aragorn whispered, leaning over the hobbit, his eyes 
merry, "would that you would stare at me all day like that. I find it 
quite . . . arousing. Now . . . where were we? Ah, yes . . . you must 
lie down---on your stomach, so that we can make certain you are well 
relaxed."

Frodo was about to tell him that being in a bed with he and Arwen was 
certainly not conducive to relaxation, but thought better of it. 
Carefully he turned over and settled down on his belly, but not 
before throwing Aragorn a quick backward glance, wondering exactly 
what the ranger was up to.  Aragorn laughed, pushing gently down on 
Frodo's shoulders as he and Arwen both eyed the hobbit's perfectly 
proportioned tush. 

"Now, Frodo," Aragorn soothed, "this might be a bit cold for a moment 
as I put the ointment on---then I will warm you up with my hands. Let 
me know if your injured shoulder begins to cause you pain."

"All right . . ." Slowly, Aragorn languorously applied the sweet-
smelling ointment to the hobbit's shoulders and spine, the large 
hands gentle and smoother than Frodo would have thought, given the 
number of swords they had held. At the feel of them on his bare skin, 
Frodo shivered, causing the ranger to pause a moment. 

"You are chilled again. I'm sorry---I should have paid more 
attention . . . perhaps my lady can share some of her warmth."

"Of course," the elf maid replied, smiling. To Frodo's surprise she 
eased down onto the sheets and curled up around him, pressing close 
and wrapping her arms about his neck. Suddenly, the hobbit's face was 
practically between her breasts, and he was a bit afraid to move for 
long moments. 

"Relax, Frodo," Arwen murmured as she stroked his hair back from his 
ear and kissed the top of his head. "Are you growing warmer?"

He was definitely growing . . . and he was getting warmer as well, he 
thought to himself . . . all over. In fact he was certain he was 
turning bright red, with her nipples so close to his face. He tried 
to look down for a moment---but that definitely didn't work either. 

"Yes indeed, I find the chill has . . . quite dissipated," he 
answered, a bit breathlessly, as he continued to stare, his eyes 
growing more bold as they roved over her body. Frodo enjoyed the 
sight, and he wished he could have turned his head back far enough to 
look at Aragorn as well. 

The ranger chuckled as he continued to rub, gliding up to Frodo's 
shoulders and massaging the tenseness away and then moving back down 
to the small of his back. "If his eyes got any wider they would pop 
out of their sockets, my love. I believe your treatment is good for 
him."

At that moment Frodo felt hands lift the mass of hair off his neck 
and a mouth kiss the tender skin beneath---and it wasn't Arwen. She 
was still looking down at him and stroking his cheek. The lips---
Aragorn's---moved down the hobbit's body, trailing light kisses all 
the way down to the small of his back, where they stopped and the  
hands worked once more. 

*I don't think I'm going to come out of this alive,* Frodo thought to 
himself. *I shall explode here like one of Gandalf's 
firecrackers . . .* 

The hobbit grunted a bit as the ranger hit sore muscles, and then 
found himself---to his dismay---moaning as the man's hands trailed 
down his back and did not stop there. Instead they moved lower, over 
his buttocks, very lightly circling, before gently parting them and 
squeezing just enough to massage the muscles there. Frodo thought for 
a moment he was about to come unglued and moaned more loudly, his 
hands gripping the bedclothes.

"Feeling better, Frodo?" Aragorn asked as he moved his hands to the 
hobbit's thighs. Arwen still pressed closely to Frodo, stroking his 
hair and singing softly, her cushiony chest heaving a bit with each 
breath. 

"Y-yes," the hobbit grunted in reply, barely getting the words out as 
those hands stroked his inner thighs, coming perilously close to his 
scrotum and penis, before moving toward his knees and calves. But 
then they paused for a moment and Frodo felt Aragorn's warm mouth on 
him again---this time on his left inner thigh as large hands cupped 
his rear. The lips moved up . . . further toward Frodo's groin, and 
the hobbit whimpered with pleasure, feeling his arousal grow harder. 
Wisely, Aragorn stopped.

"Not yet . . ." he whispered, leaving Frodo gasping for breath and 
clutching at his pillow.

Meanwhile, the ranger had picked up one of the hobbit's furry feet 
and was now massaging the arch, working out sore muscles tensed from 
miles and miles of walking. Frodo found it very pleasurable and 
sighed as the ranger finished and started on the other foot. When 
Aragorn was done, the hobbit's muscles felt extremely relaxed, 
despite his nervousness at Aragorn and Arwen's close proximity. In 
fact, Frodo was rather disappointed it was over.

"Thank you, Stri . . . uh, Aragorn, that was extremely comforting. 
I'm sure I'll sleep very soundly tonight." That was an outright lie---
the moment they left Frodo was going to go lock himself in the wash-
room and tend to "business." 

The ranger laughed softly. "The intent was *not* to put you to sleep, 
little one. You do need your rest, but we have other things in mind 
before that, if you are up to it. Do we not, my love?"

"Indeed we do, Estel . . . come here to me a moment and we will show 
him."

Aragorn crawled to Arwen, who turned over on her back to receive him. 
Frodo turned onto his side, his blue eyes wide as he watched with no 
small amount of curiosity to see what they would do.

"Would . . . would you like me to leave and give you some privacy?" 
he finally asked, not certain where he would go if they said yes. 
Perhaps the library, or their chambers. . . or he could always go 
stay with Sam . . . although it would be a rather strange thing to 
explain . . .  he could just hear Sam's voice . . .  *"Mr. Frodo, are 
you feeling all right? If you don't mind my sayin' so, sir, it's 
rather late." "I am fine, Sam . . . just fine. Sam, Strider and the 
Lady Arwen are copulating in my bed---might I stay with you the rest 
of the evening?" Elbereth, no, Frodo would sleep all night in the 
kitchen first . . . . 

He started, coming back to his senses, as Arwen and Aragorn both 
turned to him and laughed. "You do not get out of here that easily, 
Master Baggins," Arwen told him as she snubbed his nose with a finger.

"Indeed not," Aragorn added as he turned back to Arwen, his fingers 
stroking her pale cheeks. "It is your evening, Frodo . . . watch us 
for a bit and then---it will be your turn to receive both of our 
attentions."

"Very well," Frodo answered, swallowing hard as he watched the two of 
them together and wondering exactly what "attentions" would be 
forthcoming. He took a deep breath as Aragorn gently pushed the elf 
maid back among the pillows and climbed atop her, catching her lips 
in his and kissing her deeply, their tongues thrusting into each 
other's mouths.

But it was not long before Aragorn lowered his head to take one of 
her firm breasts as far as he could into his mouth, and she arched 
upward to meet him, moaning softly. The ranger's hands glided down 
her silken body with the expertise borne of many long years of 
practice, and when one of his hands disappeared between her legs and 
Arwen gasped, Frodo's eyes goggled out.


"Come, Frodo . . ." Aragorn said breathlessly as he continued to kiss 
his betrothed, "change places with me." He paused in his attentions 
to Arwen and moved off of her as he held out a hand to the hobbit, 
signaling Frodo to take his place.

"Change places? Are . . . are you certain? But would you not 
rather . . ."

"Enough talk, Master Frodo . . . come to me, if you would like," 
Arwen whispered, holding her arms out and gazing at the hobbit with 
what he could only describe as a "come-hither" look. "I would like to 
feel your skin against mine . . . and give you pleasure, Frodo. You 
are beautiful . . . and Estel certainly agrees. After this, he would 
like to pleasure you as well, if you are amiable."

"Yes, I am . . . quite amiable to that," Frodo stammered as he rose 
on his hands and knees. Arwen lay back among the pillows and Frodo 
glanced nervously at Aragorn, who sat watching. 

"Go ahead, Frodo," the ranger told him, raising his eyebrows and 
looking quite entertained. 

Hesitantly and with Aragorn's help so that he did not put undue 
pressure on his injured shoulder, Frodo climbed atop the elf maid, 
gasping as he sank down and felt her firm warm flesh beneath his. His 
erect member prodded her belly and Frodo felt suddenly faint . . . 
shaking his head a bit to settle the dizziness.

At last he was able to speak. "Lady Arwen . . . uh, do you have in 
mind what I . . . what I think you have in mind?" he asked her, his 
voice soft, as he lay down on top of her chest---unable to resist, 
finally, grasping her breasts. More than a handful, indeed. 

He was quite surprised when Arwen shuddered beneath him, arching her 
neck with a look of pure desire. "I am certainly not," Frodo 
continued, ". . . well . . . able to pleasure you as Aragorn would, 
no doubt, my being but a hobbit . . ."

She held a finger up and ran it over his lips until he closed his 
mouth. "Of course you are able to satisfy me, Frodo. A woman---even 
an elf---only stretches enough to accommodate, my dear hobbit. And 
besides . . . that is not the only way." 

Taking one of his slightly shaky hands, she moved it further down. 

To be continued 


TITLE: A Hobbit, Caught Off His Guard, 6/8, F/A/A

AUTHOR: Lily Baggins (LilyBaggins@hotmail.com)

PAIRING: Frodo/Aragorn/Arwen

WARNING: HET CONTENT

RATING: NC-17  Sex. 

Disclaimers. The usual. I make no money off of this and do not own 
these characters, much to my chagrin. They belong to Tolkien 
Enterprises and New Line Productions, and I only give them 
interesting---and usually unpleasant---ways to spend their time.

**This fic is dedicated to Baranduin, who inspired it---especially 
with her Come Athelas! story. :) 

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm going to follow book canon a tad here (imagine 
that!) If you recall, Aragorn wasn't appointed to go with Frodo on 
the Quest until the hobbits had been at Rivendell for at least two 
months---he never voiced his intention to accompany Frodo at the 
Council (although he did pledge his loyalty at Bree in the books) So, 
I'm going to use that to my story's advantage. 

***

One thought pranced through the befuddled brain of Frodo Baggins as 
he lay sprawled on top of the Lady Arwen's nude body, staring down at 
the erect pink nipples only inches from his mouth.

*I would kiss Otho Sackville-Baggins if only Fatty Bolger could see 
me now.* 

For years Frodo had endured Fatty's ribbing on account of his lack of 
experience with the fairer sex. And yet here he was, Arwen guiding 
his trembling hand across the silky hair at the apex of her legs to 
the nub of hot flesh just beneath. 

"This is a female's greatest pleasure zone, Frodo," she 
whispered. "For hobbits and humans as well as elves."

Hobbits? For a split second Frodo considered turning a good profit 
from selling this information to the fellows at the Green Dragon. 
Judging from conversations he'd been privy to, it would benefit some 
hobbit wives. . . . he bet even Fatty didn't know such things . . . 
but the image of Fatty was a definite mood-killer and Frodo diverted 
his thoughts back to the present before he deflated any.

And the present was heady. Feeling more self-conscious than he could 
ever remember, the hobbit caressed the spot between Arwen's soft 
folds and then, curious as all Bagginses are, he moved his hand down 
further and found her warm, slick opening, his eyes widening as his 
index finger slipped inside. She gasped and shuddered, arching her 
slim white neck back in pleasure, and he felt himself becoming 
lightheaded with the prospect of entering that dark, special place. 
With Aragorn watching. 

Ah, Aragorn. Next to them the man lay stretched out, his eyes 
admiring the elf's and hobbit's bodies; their dark heads and pale 
skin nearly a perfect match to each other. Frodo tried not to think 
about the fact that he was about to lose his virginity in front of 
the one whom he most wanted to impress in Middle-earth. It was agony 
and ecstasy---nearly too much to handle. For not the first time that 
evening, the hobbit cursed his inexperience. 

He'd always preferred his studies to the stress of courting. And the 
knowledge that if his carelessness sired a child, he would *have* to 
marry the lass had been enough to dissuade him from participating in 
certain activities. Could elves get pregnant, Frodo wondered? He 
didn't know. He knew no elves had given birth for centuries, but 
Arwen was different---surely she and Aragorn were planning to produce 
heirs. In an instant Frodo's thoughts were spinning like an 
inferno . . . no, no . . . he had to breathe, and right now---

A hand came down on his shoulder and the hobbit realized he was 
reeling. "Frodo, relax," Aragorn said softly, his eyes 
concerned. "You looked as if you were about to pass out for a moment 
there. Are you all right?"

"Yes, yes . . . I was just . . . thinking for a moment."

Aragorn laughed. "Leave it to a hobbit to be thinking at such a time. 
Well, stop thinking and just do. It's hazardous to devote *all* of 
your time to thought, my friend. Relax." Smiling, he leaned over and 
whispered softly, causing Frodo's face to redden to the tips of his 
pointed ears. "Just try it, Frodo. I guarantee she will like it."

Hesitantly, Frodo clasped Arwen's waist and lowered his head, 
gingerly taking one dark areola in his mouth and sucking gently. From 
her moans, he apparently was doing something right. Feeling a bit 
more confident, he slid his hands over her smooth body, gliding them 
over hips and buttocks and entwining them in her dark tresses. 

"Do you find me pleasing?" she asked, smiling. 

"Oh, yes . . . such loveliness in living thing I've never seen nor 
imagined," he murmured as he moved his lips off her breast to go 
lower, now swirling his tongue in circles about her belly, nearly 
down to the dark mound of hair between her legs. He was finding he 
rather enjoyed this, and by the small noises Arwen was making, Frodo 
thought he might even have a talent for it. 

She caressed him in turn, her hands splaying on his buttocks, and 
then held her arms out, beckoning. 

"Come here to me, Frodo . . . my fair and enticing hobbit."

He looked up at her and her gaze seeming to pierce him with desire 
and yet understanding. Smiling, he wriggled up---the friction of his 
erect leaking member sliding over her skin causing him to nearly 
hyperventilate---until his lips were even with hers as she drew his 
head down into a hungry kiss. Arwen's mouth was wet and sweet . . . 
extremely inviting . . . if a bit different---and definitely less 
irritating to Frodo's facial skin---than Aragorn's. 

Out of his peripheral vision Frodo could see that the ranger was 
still watching them intently, his own member stiff and gleaming. 

Suddenly Arwen reached down wrapped one slim hand about Frodo's 
pulsing shaft, nearly causing him to jump. He moaned as she stroked 
him, his penis growing harder than he ever recalled when he pleasured 
himself. Oh, he needed release desperately and he needed it *now.* 
And never having done this before, he was quite afraid he might not 
be able to hold out as long as he needed to. 

"Lady Arwen," Frodo gasped as he broke the kiss, "I'm not 
certain . . ."

"Enough talk, Ring-bearer. Come inside me now . . ." 

"Yes," the hobbit breathed. "I am ready . . . " He wanted to be 
inside her slickness that very moment---and he began to scoot down 
the length of her body to ----"Ouch!" Frodo grimaced suddenly at a 
sharp pressure at the back of his neck and the feeling that his hair 
was about to be yanked out by its roots. 

Immediately Aragorn sat up and Arwen stared at the hobbit, her eyes 
wide. 

"Frodo, is it your shoulder?" the ranger asked, concerned. "Lie down 
and allow me to look at it."

"No, no, it's not my shoulder. Uh, help, please?"

Aragorn chuckled as he saw what the problem was. Arwen's Evenstar 
pendant and Frodo's silver chain bearing the Ring were tangled in a 
messy knot, and as soon as the hobbit had tried to pull away his 
chain had also gotten twisted up the curly hair at his nape. 

"Just a moment, Frodo, and I'll loosen it . . ." Something in the 
situation amused Aragorn greatly and he was having difficulty trying 
not to laugh at the hobbit's scowling expression. "If you would move 
the Ring out of the way as I . . . that's it . . ." 

Frodo shivered as the ranger's nimble fingers lifted his hair away 
from his neck and unclasped the chain, working the ends to untangle 
it from Arwen's pendant. He didn't find the situation at all funny. 

"Don't move," Aragorn commanded, his breath hot in Frodo's ear, "or 
we shall really have a mess here and will have to take the scissors 
to your hair to get this out. Which would be a shame." As he said it 
Aragorn's lips brushed the back of the hobbit's neck, soothing. 

"I don't care---do whatever you have to do, but hurry, please," Frodo 
said miserably, feeling like a fool as he tried to hold very still, 
his testicles aching. He immediately tried to think of something to 
ease the pressure, and an image of Fatty Bolger cropped up in his 
mind unbidden. But a moment later Aragorn had untangled the chain and 
the hobbit was freed. 

"There," the ranger said with a gentle kiss to the top of Frodo's 
head and one to Arwen's lips, "I shortened it so that will not happen 
again. Now, please continue . . . I find it most titillating to 
watch."

"Mmmm . . . you should be on the receiving end, Estel," Arwen said. 

Aragorn's eyes twinkled as he looked from his beloved to Frodo. "Soon 
enough, I plan to be." His voice was very matter-of-fact, his eyes 
never leaving the hobbit's. 

Frodo stared at him, feeling his erection making itself known again. 
Then, wasting no time, the hobbit slid down between Arwen's spread 
legs, stroking her thighs. 

"Allow me, Frodo." Moving toward him, Aragorn gently wrapped a hand 
about the hobbit's penis, his hands caressing the silky skin before 
parting Arwen's delicate folds and guiding Frodo to the elf's moist 
vulva. 

Clutching at Arwen's hips Frodo pushed in slowly, holding his breath 
at the enticing sight of his member disappearing. "Ohhhh . . ." was 
all he could manage to say, closing his eyes for a moment in delight. 
She gripped him snugly---not too tight, but not too loose either. 
He'd been afraid she would be disappointed that he had not the girth 
of a man, but the look on her face told him otherwise. Once fully 
enveloped he pulled his penis out slowly, his eyes growing round at 
the sensation, before thrusting back in. 

"Oh, that's perfect, Frodo," Arwen gasped, her hands clasping his 
bottom to pull him deep inside. "Now go a bit faster."

Needing no further encouragement he found a purchase about her waist 
and began pumping, his knees and feet mussing the bedclothes with 
each thrust. Next to them, Aragorn's eyes were glued to the scene as 
he stroked his own stiff, glistening member. 

Frodo, remembering what Arwen had taught him earlier, rubbed the nub 
between the elf-maid's legs with a finger to give her added pleasure, 
and her face broke into a broad grin. "Oh . . . you *are* an . . . 
apt pupil, aren't you . . . oh my . . ."

Arwen's hips moved with Frodo's as they rocked, the pleasurable 
spasms growing almost unendurably intense for both. Suddenly the 
hobbit felt a masculine hand stroking the cleft of his buttocks---
around his hole, but not daring to enter. Aragorn's hand, moving 
lower to cup Frodo's sac---

The hobbit was going over the edge. He cried out as he climaxed, 
shooting hot streams into the elf beneath him, and Arwen came only 
moments later, arching her back and moaning Frodo's and Aragorn's 
names. At the same time, Aragorn's cry of release as he came by his 
own hand intermingled. 

Once Frodo had spent all his seed he flopped down atop Arwen's bosom, 
feeling quite boneless, as he watched Aragorn and Arwen exchange a 
kiss.

To be continued 


TITLE: A HOBBIT, CAUGHT OFF HIS GUARD 7/8

AUTHOR: Lily Baggins (LilyBaggins@hotmail.com)

PAIRING: Frodo/Aragorn/Arwen

WARNING: Het content

RATING: NC-17  Sex. 

Disclaimers. The usual. I make no money off of this and do not own 
these characters, much to my chagrin. They belong to Tolkien 
Enterprises and New Line Productions, and I only give them 
interesting---and usually unpleasant---ways to spend their time.

**This fic is dedicated to Baranduin, who inspired it---especially 
with her Come Athelas! story. :) 

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm going to follow book canon a tad here (imagine 
that!) If you recall, Aragorn wasn't appointed to go with Frodo on 
the Quest until the hobbits had been at Rivendell for at least two 
months---he never voiced his intention to accompany Frodo at the 
Council (although he did pledge his loyalty at Bree in the books) So, 
I'm going to use that to my story's advantage. 

***

Arwen smoothed Frodo's soft hair back as he lay cushioned on her 
breasts and traced the curve of his lips with a finger. "Ah, that was 
perfect, Frodo . . . all in all, quite satisfying. Especially 
considering that it was your first time."

The hobbit reddened, a bit struck dumb by all that had happened and 
unable for the moment to think of anything intelligent to say. He was 
officially a non-virgin and wondered if he would feel any different 
in the morning. Probably not . . . except that he would now forever 
blush in Arwen's presence, and if his hobbit friends noticed, he 
would have some strange explaining to do . . .  although Pippin would 
probably want to join in, Frodo thought to himself, amused.

He became aware that Aragorn was staring at their flushed, tangled 
bodies with a large smile on his face. Tenderly the ranger reached 
out and stroked Arwen's arm before slowly letting his hand rest on 
Frodo's shoulder.  

"You've had a rather active evening, Frodo, and you only a few days 
out of bed from your injury. Sleep a while if you like. We have 
plenty of time." As he talked Aragorn pulled the covers down and 
patted the empty space beside him. 

Yawning, Frodo disengaged himself from Arwen and allowed the ranger 
to roll him to the middle of the bed. Arwen fluffed the pillows up---
she and Aragorn sharing a kiss over Frodo's head---and then all three 
of them settled down close under the soft sheets and blankets. 

Sighing in contentment, Aragorn turned toward Frodo and let his hand 
stray under the covers, lazily tracing circles over the hobbit's 
chest and skimming his nipples. Suddenly Frodo felt himself growing 
wide awake again and a bit aroused as well. 
 
"What did you mean by plenty of time?" he blurted. He hoped----oh, 
how he hoped---that Aragorn had meant what he said earlier about 
waiting for his chance with him. And Frodo would gladly oblige . . . 
even if it took the entire night and he got no sleep at all. The man 
had sat and watched patiently, joining in somewhat but making certain 
Frodo had his share of the pleasure first. And, most amazingly, 
actually encouraging he and Arwen to pleasure each other. "You mean 
for . . . other nighttime activities, correct?"

Aragorn laughed softly. "That I do. But I am of the opinion that if 
we like them enough, we can certainly engage in a repeat performance 
in the morning." 

At this Arwen chuckled, and a loving glance passed between she and 
her betrothed. At mention of the morning, however, Frodo quieted, 
staring up at the polished beams on the ceiling. "Aragorn . . . 
you'll be leaving tomorrow for your scouting expedition with Elladan 
and Elrohir, will you not?"

"Yes, Frodo," the ranger said as his warm hand now trailed down the 
hobbit's belly. "I am going with the rangers to search the lands far 
down the Greyflood for signs of the Enemy." 

Frodo shivered at the feel of that large hand gliding down, but he 
managed, somehow, to focus, pondering Aragorn's words. "So I may not 
see you if I am gone when you return. Master Elrond did not say when 
Sam and I were to leave on the journey to  . . . to Mordor." In the 
quiet confines of the room the word reverberated ominously. 

Suddenly Aragorn's hand moved off Frodo's abdomen to cup the hobbit's 
chin, turning wide blue eyes to meet his own. "So that is what is 
weighing on your mind. Frodo, you will not be leaving before we 
return, I promise, because I shall be going with you to Mordor. Not 
long ago I swore to protect you by my life or death and I stand by 
that. I beg leave to be your companion again, if you will have me."

Frodo stared hard at Aragorn, his heart nearly stopping. He had not 
dared to hope the ranger would accompany him. Yes, Aragorn's 
friendship would make the dark nights a bit brighter and the cold 
mornings a bit warmer. He would feel safe. Finally, he found his 
voice. "Oh yes. I would have begged you to come." 

"Then that is settled. Now you must rest---and dream of things more 
pleasant than talk of dark journeys and evil lands."

"Actually, I am not tired . . .  I uh . . . I don't believe I shall 
be able to fall asleep for a bit."

The ranger grinned knowingly. "I see---as I am not tired either. 
There are still activities awaiting us that my love over there will 
no doubt enjoy watching." Raising his head, Aragorn glanced at Arwen 
mischievously. "That is, if she is willing to sit out---she is quite 
insatiable, my Arwen."

At those words Arwen raised an eyebrow and picked up her pillow, 
lightly swatting Aragorn on the head with it. 

"Is that a challenge?" Aragorn grinned as he grabbed his own pillow 
and raised it menacingly. 

"I am sure Frodo and I could take you," she answered haughtily. The 
next thing Frodo knew Aragorn and Arwen had sat up and were playfully 
batting each other with pillows, laughing. He squeezed himself into a 
ball, trying to make himself smaller as he observed, quite amazed, 
the antics of the future queen and king of Gondor. 

"Watch out, Arwen, Frodo is already diving under the covers to get 
away from us," Aragorn said. "We shall drive the poor hobbit out of 
his own bed in a moment."

"Come, Frodo, help me out," Arwen said as she advanced on Aragorn. "I 
am about to take Estel for all he is worth . . ."

"He is in no condition to be pillow-fighting, my love---you are out 
of luck and shall just have to get out of this one on your own, I am 
afraid . . ."

Smiling, Frodo looked up at Arwen and she winked, leaning down to 
whisper a strategy in his ear. Nodding, Frodo sat up a bit, scooting 
close to Arwen and leaning against her. He knew Aragorn would not 
dare hit him and risk upsetting his shoulder wound, and indeed, the 
ranger ceased his combat immediately, giving them the opening they 
needed. Using their combined strength they pushed him over and held 
him down, Frodo thoroughly enjoying the feeling of Aragorn's scratchy 
chest under his small hands. Smiling, Arwen leaned back and simply 
watched them intently. 

Aragorn looked up at Frodo reproachfully. "I believe that is a use of 
unfair tactics, Frodo . . . I had no idea hobbits were so cunning."
 
"Yes . . . do you give in now?" Frodo asked as he did his best to 
keep his eyes on Aragorn's face. During the "skirmish" the sheet had 
slipped away from the ranger's lower body, and Frodo was once again 
reminded of the sheer size of the man's partially-erect penis. And it 
occurred to the hobbit---oh, he wanted to feel that massive organ 
deep inside of him. The moment the thought crossed his mind he was 
shocked at himself. 

"Yes . . . I am at your mercy," Aragorn whispered. Gently he pulled 
Frodo's head down, crushing their mouths together and demanding 
entry. Frodo complied, opening his lips as the ranger's slick tongue 
swept past them to delve deeply into his throat. 

Abruptly Aragorn pulled his mouth away and carefully rolled them over 
so Frodo was on his back. Leaning between Frodo's open legs, the 
ranger placed his hands on the bed on either side of Frodo's 
shoulders and gazed down at the hobbit, his eyes twinkling. "Now who 
is at whose mercy, Frodo Baggins?" 

Frodo lay still, his penis hardening as he stared at Aragorn with 
wide eyes, wondering exactly what was going to happen next. "You have 
me at a distinct size disadvantage, Aragorn," he finally said, 
causing the ranger to smile. 

"Ah, but look---I am not even touching you just now."

Indeed, the ranger was *not* touching him---Frodo realized he was 
simply lying there, pinned by the man's gaze and quite unable to 
think clearly for the sheer headiness of it all.

"What do you want to do, Frodo?" Aragorn whispered. "You have but to 
name it."

To be continued 


TITLE: A HOBBIT, CAUGHT OFF HIS GUARD 8/8

AUTHOR: Lily Baggins  (LilyBaggins@hotmail.com)

PAIRING: Frodo/Aragorn/Arwen

WARNING: Het content

RATING: NC-17  Sex. 

Disclaimers. The usual. I make no money off of this and do not own 
these characters, much to my chagrin. They belong to Tolkien 
Enterprises and New Line Productions, and I only give them 
interesting---and usually unpleasant---ways to spend their time.

***

Frodo lay under the ranger, shivering with anticipation. Whatever he 
wanted to do? Oh, he could think of so many things, but there was one 
activity in particular he most wanted to indulge in. Not even Fatty 
Bolger had ever done this, although Frodo had read about it in some 
of the more risque Elvish tomes. 

He tried to speak up, but felt his face turning red as a beet. How 
could he tell Aragorn what he actually wanted? The man might laugh at 
him, or think he was a "mad Baggins" like many in the Shire . . .  
perhaps he would be turned off or disgusted . . . 

"I would . . ." He bit his lip, chewing it thoughtfully while trying 
to decide how best to convey his thoughts. 

Arwen's voice cut in, almost as if the elf-maid could read Frodo's 
mind (however, she *had* likely noticed the hobbit's unwavering gaze 
upon Aragorn's manhood, Frodo thought to himself).  "Perhaps he would 
like to have you come inside of him, Estel." She turned and looked at 
Frodo, her eyes gentle. "It will be uncomfortable at first, but I 
will help you control the pain. It is rather glorious and  I think 
you would like it."

Frodo turned and looked at her. "You . . . have done it? That 
way . . . with Aragorn?"

She nodded. "You learn to be creative when you have been together for 
more than thirty years, as Estel and I have. Yes, it is quite 
amazing . . . and I, being a female, do not even have the sensitive 
organ inside that adds to the sensation." 

"An organ inside of there? What does it do?" 

"Questions, questions," she teased. "You hobbits are indeed too 
curious. I am not altogether certain, but if you stimulate it, seed 
is released, so it must have a purpose having to do with that. Trust 
me, Frodo, you will find such stimulation quite enjoyable."

He nodded nervously, thinking to himself of the education he was 
receiving all in one night. "Yes. Yes, that is exactly what I wanted, 
but was uncertain of whether to say so . . ." 

"You need not have been, for that is what I have desired to do with 
you for a very long time," Aragorn murmured. His lips quirking 
upward, he lowered his mouth to the hobbit's belly and gently trailed 
kisses from there all the way to the dark hair around Frodo's member. 
Frodo gasped at the wet butterfly sensations against his flesh and 
tangled his hands in the ranger's dark hair. 

"Oh . . ." was all Frodo could manage as he felt Aragorn's hand wrap 
about his erection. The ranger glanced up, smiling, and gingerly 
licked his lips before taking in the pearly-wet tip and sucking. 
Almost at once Frodo groaned and bucked, so thrilling was it. He 
moved his hands to grip the sheets tightly, sweat breaking out anew 
as he fought to maintain control. He was spiraling----spiraling 
downward----all the sensation in his body centered on that one small 
area between his legs. 

But then Aragorn drew away and the wonderful suction was gone. Frodo 
hardly had time to realize it before the ranger was once more 
stretched out atop him, careful not to crush him with his weight as 
he ran his long fingers through Frodo's hair and kissed his neck and 
collarbone. 

"So sweet, Frodo . . ." he murmured, and in response the hobbit 
wrapped his legs about the man's hips, reveling in the feel of the 
warm, tanned skin rough against his own. Clutching Aragorn's 
buttocks, Frodo scooted down to use his tongue to do to Aragorn what 
he had down to Arwen---gently play with his nipples---and from the 
sounds he elicited, he determined that the ranger liked it very much 
indeed. 

And when Frodo slid his hands down Aragorn's belly toward the man's 
member, Aragorn arched his back, breathing heavily. "Arwen, the oil," 
he managed, and she handed him a small bottle of massage oil he had 
brought in for Frodo earlier. 

"Let me," Frodo said, allowing Aragorn to pour the oil out on his 
hands. With slow, languorous movements he swirled his small hands 
about the man's member, enjoying its silky softness and girth while 
spreading the oil liberally. The ranger groaned, clearly nearing the 
end of his tolerance. "Lie back, Frodo," he said urgently.   

Frodo quickly complied, reclining near the head of the bed next to 
Arwen. She took one of his hands in hers, soothing. The hobbit knew 
he was trembling---he wanted this badly---so badly---but he was more 
apprehensive, if possible, than when he had been with Arwen. 
Probably, he reflected, because he had fantasized about this moment 
for days on end. And never thought it could possibly come to pass. 

Aragorn's eyes were gleaming as he knelt on the bed and gently pushed 
Frodo's knees up and apart. The hobbit shivered as warm hands touched 
his most sensitive areas, opening his buttocks more and coating the 
cleft liberally with the oil. He gasped loudly at the unexpected 
sensation of one long finger entering his opening, gently massaging 
the tight ring of muscle. 

"Just relax, Frodo. I'm stretching the muscle a bit---you will enjoy 
it more that way, trust me."

Frodo nodded, unable to speak as another finger was added to the 
first. It was slightly painful, but every time he felt a twinge it 
seemed to be soothed by Arwen's touch, guiding him through. 

Then suddenly Aragorn's hand went deeper and Frodo's eyes flew wide 
open---what *was* that? 

The ranger grinned, and Frodo realized he'd spoken aloud. "I 
am   . . . sorry," the hobbit gasped, "but I have never felt anything 
quite . . . like that." He squirmed a bit as he spoke, pushing 
himself down more on Aragorn's fingers, disappointed when the hand 
withdrew.

"Aragorn, why did you stop . . . I need that again . . . please . . ."

"Ssshhh, little one . . . there is something better in store . . . 
just wait."

Grasping Frodo's knees, which in itself caused the somewhat ticklish 
hobbit to shudder, Aragorn scrambled into position and placed his 
member at the tip of Frodo's entrance. Frodo whimpered a bit and 
squeezed Arwen's hand, his fingers white, as Aragorn slid into him 
very slowly. It hurt a bit, yes, but the elf-maid's soothing touch 
helped, and the pain was second to the delicious feeling of that hard 
heat spreading his body apart.

"All right, Frodo?" Aragorn's voice from above him, spoken through 
somewhat clenched teeth. 

"Yes, oh yes . . . go on . . ."

Thanks to Arwen the pain was fleeting and soon gone, replaced by only 
a satisfying---indeed quite wonderful---fullness as the ranger pushed 
his penis into Frodo as far as possible. Frodo groaned and lifted his 
legs, wrapping them about the man's waist as Aragorn pulled out and 
pushed back in, hitting that same sweet spot his fingers had earlier. 
The hobbit gently disengaged his hand from Arwen's and clutched 
Aragorn's sweat-soaked shoulders, burying his head against the firm 
flesh. 

"Aragorn . . ." 

"Hold on, Frodo." 

The ranger pumped, trying to be as gentle as possible but quite 
losing himself in the moment. Frodo didn't care---the sensation of 
the huge, hard penis buried inside of him, moving through tightened 
muscles and hitting deeply was unbelievable. Then Aragorn's hand 
moved down to wrap about Frodo's shaft and the hobbit thought he 
would surely fly off the bed at any time. 

"Oh, I'm . . ." 

"Yes . . ."

The sensation built up to an incredible crescendo, and Frodo bit his 
lip to keep from crying out and waking the others in the household. 
But as he felt the explosive climax, it was impossible to keep quiet 
and he did call out Aragorn's name---quite loudly---as his seed 
soaked his and Aragorn's bellies. A moment later the ranger came, 
also making a good bit of noise, and Frodo felt himself fill with the 
man's warmth. 

Then it was over, leaving two sweat-slick bodies collapsed on one 
another. Leaning up a bit, Aragorn kissed Frodo's face---his eyelids, 
nose, lips, all over---grinning. "So, Frodo, did it meet your 
expectations?" 

"Mmmm . . . I believe a repeat performance is in order in the 
morning." 

The ranger laughed, tweaking the hobbit's nose as Arwen grabbed a 
towel for them to clean up with. The elf-maid gently wiped Frodo's 
damp face and chest while Aragorn pulled his flaccid member out of 
the hobbit, making sure Frodo was undamaged, and wiped the oil off of 
both of them. 

Frodo felt quite wonderful---he felt sure he would be sore the next 
morning, but a nice long soak in a hot bath would take care of it. He 
yawned widely as Aragorn and Arwen finished their ministrations, 
suddenly feeling extremely sleepy. Scrambling for his pillow he 
plopped down, curling up and pulling the blankets over him. 

Aragorn and Arwen slipped in on either side, Aragorn spooning up 
behind Frodo and wrapping his arms about the hobbit's chest as he 
drew him close. Content, Frodo sighed, enjoying the warmth of being 
tucked under Aragorn's chin. And Arwen lay close, her long hair 
spilling about Frodo and her sweet scent permeating the air. Suddenly 
Frodo chuckled a bit as an earlier memory from the evening rose 
unbidden.

"What is so amusing?" Aragorn asked.

Frodo smiled. "I was only thinking of Fatty Bolger---a good friend 
who used to torment me for being inexperienced. And wondering what he 
would think of me now." 

"Ah. In bed with a man and an elf. I'm sure he would be surprised."

"Yes." The thought amused Frodo no end. His eyelids growing heavy, he 
reached down to lightly stroke the arms clasped so lovingly about 
him, quite thankful he had a relaxing day ahead of him and did not 
have to worry about rising early. 

"Aragorn?"

"Yes?"

"What time are you leaving for your journey?"

"I am not certain. Probably mid-morning, while you slugabed hobbits 
are still asleep." 

"I fear I have kept you awake, then," Frodo said in a worried voice.

Aragorn laughed as he momentarily tightened his arms about the hobbit 
in a gentle squeeze. "Then fear not, Frodo. I am a ranger---I survive 
on very little rest. And trust me, this evening did much more to 
prepare me for a journey than a bit more sleep. I feel 
extremely . . . refreshed."

"I shall miss you. Wake me before you go, please."

"No, Frodo . . . you need your rest to fully recover from your 
injury. If you are asleep, I will leave you to it. Fret not---I will 
return soon enough. And while I am gone Arwen will be here." 

At this the elf-maid smiled and reached out to brush back Frodo's 
bangs. "Indeed, seek me out whenever you desire, Ring-bearer. I shall 
be here for you." 

He nodded gratefully, closing his eyes. "Thank you," he whispered, 
but they barely heard it before he let sleep take him. 

***


EPILOGUE


Many months later . . . 

Frodo woke to dawn breaking in Minas Tirith, taking in the deep green 
velvet curtains strung about the gigantic bed and the ornate gilt 
patterns decorating the ceiling. He stretched, grimacing as he 
accidentally hit a warm body with his hand. He did not wish to wake 
them up----the king and queen would be rising soon enough for a 
diplomatic breakfast, leaving Frodo to sleep and then meet with the 
other hobbits to spend the day. 

Frodo listened to their quiet, even breathing, fingering the Evenstar 
pendant about his neck---a promise of peace if he so desired it. He 
did not know yet what his choice would be, but he was certain that 
the quest had been made more bearable simply by spending the cold 
nights curled up around Aragorn in one bedroll. And when privacy 
afforded, sharing more than sleep. 

When Frodo had finally come to himself again in Ithilien, it was 
Aragorn's face he saw just after Gandalf's. And after that the king 
spent many a night and day with him, tending to Frodo and helping him 
to forget the fires of Mordor. 

And yet the hobbit had never been so delighted to see two people wed 
as Arwen and Aragorn---both had waited many years for such happiness. 
He was no longer inexperienced, but many times he was content to 
simply watch the two of them, or to be held in their arms until he 
drifted off into a dreamless slumber. If anyone noticed the Ring-
bearer disappearing each night they simply reckoned that he had found 
great favor with King Elessar and Queen Arwen Undomiel and made no 
mention of it. 

And now Frodo lovingly touched his pendant, thinking back to the 
queen's words when she had bestowed it upon him, "But wear this now 
in memory of Elfstone and Evenstar with whom your life has been 
woven!"

And in bed between them, Frodo smiled as he turned over and curled 
up, indeed weaving small arms about Aragorn's waist as a silver 
trumpet sounded faintly in the distance.

~The End~