Title: Dawn's First Light (1/?)
Author: Xenobia
Pairing(s): Frodo/Aragorn
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Aragorn sits alone on the throne of Gondor, 
attempting to cope with sending Arwen away for her own 
good.  Frodo must recover from his ordeal and learn to live 
again.  Shared pain draws the two together for comfort.
Disclaimer:  I don't own Middle Earth or any of the 
characters.  I just like to borrow them from time to time 
because I can't get enough of them (especially Frodo!).
Warning: Alternate Ending.  Aragorn doesn't marry Arwen.  
You've been warned!
Author's note: This one is for Lily Baggins. :-)


"Dawn's first light"
Part 1

~* Author's note: This is an alternate ending fic.  I was 
inspired to write it after watching the TTT movie.  Arwen 
and Aragorn do not end up marrying in this fic.  You have 
been warned!  This one's for Lily Baggins.*~

	The victory seemed hollow to Aragorn.  Having the 
crown was nothing to him, for he had sent his love away to 
Valinor, never to return.  To save her, he had to let her 
go.  After hearing Elrond's reasoning when the council had 
finished and the Fellowship had been chosen, Isildur's heir 
had made the most difficult decision he would ever have to 
make in his life.  He met secretly with his elven lover and 
broke with her.  How those dark, lovely eyes had pierced 
his soul when they filled with tears, and how her droning 
voice had nearly broken him as it pleaded for him to 
reconsider.  He had tried to give her star jewel back to 
her, but she had sadly refused it and closed her fingers 
about his.  "It was a gift," she murmured achingly.

	Now, the War of the Ring was finished, and thanks to 
two brave hobbits, the threat of Sauron was gone from 
Middle Earth.  Aragorn had the throne of Gondor, and the 
survivors of the wars healed from their wounds.  The 
members of the original Fellowship still dwelt in Gondor, 
recovering their strength before returning to their 
respective homelands.  He should be comforted.  His friends 
had survived, against all odds.  Of all of them, he had 
feared never to see Frodo Baggins again, yet the unique 
halfling had pulled through, with Samwise Gamgee's help.  
Aragorn tapped his fingertips on the arms of his throne and 
considered paying the hobbits a visit.  In his sorrow, 
there was at least one thing that gave him comfort; the 
sight of life slowly rekindling in Frodo's cerulean eyes.

	When the ringbearer had first awoken from his 
healing sleep, his eyes had been so dull with pain and loss 
that Aragorn's heart nearly broke.  Though Frodo had 
suffered much on his journey, he somehow managed to hold 
onto that light of innocence and courage that Aragorn 
admired so much.  When he saw that dimmed, possibly 
forever, the feeling of loss he experienced was as 
unbearable as the loss of Arwen.  "Frodo," Aragorn murmured 
softly.  The King's loss was great, but Frodo's was much 
deeper.  Aragorn wanted to make sure that the hobbit 
recovered as much of his lost spirit as possible.

~************~

	"I'm really not hungry, Sam."  The voice was soft 
and broken, unlike the thoughtful, musical one that the 
gardener was used to hearing, before they set out on the 
quest that changed all of them so much.

	"Please, Mister Frodo?  You're still too thin, and I 
made this stew especially for you.  You need to keep your 
strength up, for when we all go home!"  Sam stubbornly held 
the wooden bowl out to his master, who sat beside him on 
the blanket he had spread out on the ground.  "What's a 
picnic without eating?" He added with a disarming, dimpled 
smile.

	The haunted, blue eyes brightened the slightest bit, 
and a small smile lifted Frodo's sensitive lips.  "You 
don't intend to leave this be, do you Samwise?"

	Sam shook his head.  "No sir.  I've had enough 
practice trying to get you to eat to know I can wear you 
down with enough prodding."

	Frodo laughed softly and shook his head.  "Bless 
you, Samwise Gamgee.  I truly appreciate it, but I really 
don't know if I can eat, right now.  My belly feels rather 
queer.  I would hate to see the lovely meal you've prepared 
go to waste by having it in reverse!"

	A new voice broke into the conversation, startling 
both halflings and making them jump.  "Listen to Samwise, 
Frodo.  You feel ill because you haven't been eating 
properly."

	"S-Strider," Frodo said, placing his hand lightly 
over his breast, "Being a king hasn't changed your tendency 
to sneak up on a body!"

	The man smiled and squatted down fluidly, and 
Frodo's eyes followed him.  For once, Aragorn was clean-
shaven, and his dark hair was soft and well groomed.  Quite 
a change from the rough warrior that Frodo was accustomed 
to seeing.  Still, Aragorn was achingly handsome, and 
though Frodo preferred his old look, this new, clean one 
was appealing as well.  Arwen was a lucky woman.  The 
ringbearer frowned.  She would have been a lucky woman; he 
corrected himself, if Aragorn hadn't sent her away.  The 
king's grey eyes held a sadness of their own as they 
flicked between Frodo and the bowl that Sam was still 
holding out.

	More to make his human friend happy than because he 
felt he could stomach it, Frodo finally took the bowl and 
sighed.  "Very well.  I suppose if I don't eat, the two of 
you will have the entire Fellowship out here in the 
courtyard, force-feeding me."  His little smile belied his 
feigned irritation, and Aragorn shared a grin with Samwise.

	Aragorn's smile faded when he noted that Frodo's 
bandaged hand trembled as he took the bowl.  His other hand 
did the same as he slowly grasped the spoon and brought a 
mouthful of stew to his lips.  "Are you in pain, little 
one?" the King asked gently.

	Another smile found its way onto Frodo's mouth as he 
chewed and stared at Aragorn.  Frodo loved the way the 
man's voice always softened to that soothing drone when he 
was concerned about him.  He had heard Aragorn speak in 
that tone of voice to only one other person before; Arwen.  
Did it mean that Frodo too held a special place in the 
king's heart?  He hoped so, for he loved the ranger 
dearly...though he would never say aloud just how much he 
loved him.  "A bit, but I'm getting used to it," he 
answered upon swallowing.

	Aragorn's lips thinned.  "That is unacceptable.  
When the two of you are finished with your afternoon tea, 
I'd like you to come to my chambers, so that I can treat 
your wounds and give you some medicine to ease your pain.  
Will you do that for me, Frodo?"

	Frodo blinked, and for a moment, his old wit and 
humor returned.  "Is that a king's command, my lord?"  He 
smiled teasingly at his tall friend, and his heart skipped 
a beat when Aragorn's eyes stayed on him and the man slowly 
nodded.

	"It is.  I won't have you suffering, Frodo."

	Frodo swallowed, feeling that he might weep, 
suddenly.  This was the most he had been able to feel since 
destroying the ring, and he didn't know if he was ready for 
it.  "As you wish," he murmured with a trembling smile.

	Aragorn then did something that surprised all three 
of them; he reached out and caressed Frodo's pale cheek 
with his fingertips, then briefly stroked his dark curls 
before standing up.  "I shall see you soon, Frodo," he said 
abruptly, turning on his heels to go.

	Frodo stared after the man with the spoon halfway to 
his lips and his mouth opened in mystification.  Sam's 
eyebrows were raised, and he paused as he was reaching for 
the loaf of bread he had baked.  "Well, that was right 
strange, Mister Frodo," the gardener whispered, slowly 
continuing his actions, "I don't reckon I've ever seen ol' 
Strider show that kind of affection to anyone before."

	Frodo tilted his head sideways and bit his lip in 
consideration at Sam's words.  "War can change a man," he 
said softly, "or a hobbit."  He wondered, though.  His skin 
tingled where Aragorn had touched it, and he wasn't 
prepared for the sensual feeling of the brief caress.

~*****************~

	Aragorn stopped himself as he stood in front of the 
mirror on the western wall of his chambers.  Was he 
preening?  Elbereth, what was wrong with him?  Frodo had 
seen him in the worst possible conditions, covered with 
dirt and rainwater...yet for some reason, he stood there 
running his hands over his tunic to smooth wrinkles out of 
it!  "This is not a romantic liaison, you fool," he 
muttered at his reflection.  It was times like this that he 
missed his old self; the one that could care less about his 
appearance.  Where had the Dunadan gone?  Who was this 
immaculate stranger standing before him?  Yes, his new 
status as ruler of Gondor had forced him to take more cares 
with his physical appearance.  After all, how would it look 
if the king appeared to be a scruffy bandit with three days 
of beard stubble on his jaw?  Regardless of this point, the 
outer changes were beginning to take hold on the inside as 
well, and he did not approve of it.

	Irritably, he removed his tunic and went to the 
closet.  He smiled when he found some of his old clothing, 
and he chose a travel-worn, comfortable shirt.  He pulled 
it over his head and didn't bother with the laces, leaving 
the shirt half-open.  He didn't bother tucking it into his 
breeches.  Looking again at his reflection, he bent over 
and threaded his fingers into his shoulder-length brown 
hair, mussing it thoroughly.  Straightening up again, he 
smiled at last.  This was more like Strider.  Unkempt, wild 
hair and dark, worn out clothing.  If only he could grow 
some stubble quickly, he would truly feel like his old self 
again.

	A timid knock at his door reminded him that he was 
expecting a visitor, and Aragorn flushed.  What might Frodo 
think, once his bright eyes took in the king's slovenly 
appearance?  "He won't think anything," Aragorn sternly 
reminded himself, "because he knows the real you."

	He went to the door and opened it wide.  Frodo 
stared up at him, tumbled locks falling partially across 
the wide, blue eyes that Aragorn had just been thinking 
about.  The hobbit looked shy and vulnerable and small.  
"Please, come in, Frodo.  Let us see what we can do to make 
you more comfortable," Aragorn said softly.  He always 
found himself making his voice gentle around this timid 
creature...much in the same way he used to with Arwen.  
Both were so delicate and gentle, Aragorn couldn't help but 
feel that a harsh tone of voice might disturb their quiet 
natures.  He still didn't understand why that same feeling 
of protectiveness came to him as strongly around Frodo as 
it did for his lost love.  Though he had always tried to 
protect all of the hobbits, only Frodo could inspire this 
tenderness in him.

	Frodo gave him a broken little smile and padded into 
the room, his large, furred feet barely making a whisper of 
sound.  "Here, why don't you lie down on the bed, while I 
retrieve what I need to see to you?" Aragorn said with a 
gesture.

	"Did I disturb a nap?" Frodo inquired innocently, 
his sapphire eyes moving up and down the king's disheveled 
form.

	Aragorn chuckled.  "Not at all.  I merely decided 
that my old clothing is more comfortable to me.  One can 
only pretend for so long before it gets tiresome."

	The little smile on the halfling's face broadened 
into a grin.  "You aren't really comfortable as a king, are 
you Strider?"

	Aragorn stared at his smaller companion for a 
moment, amazed that Frodo could read him so well.  
"Honestly?  No, this isn't at all what I expected to be 
doing for the rest of my life.  I thought I was marginally 
prepared for it, but reality is very different from 
assumption."  Seeing the difficulty that Frodo was having 
climbing onto the bed, Aragorn smiled and came up behind 
him.  "Let me help you.  I've forgotten that you're used to 
sleeping in the beds we had made for your size."

	Frodo gasped as the man's hands settled on his hips 
and gently lifted him as though he was as light as a 
feather.  He thanked Aragorn breathlessly and rolled onto 
his belly to hide the evidence of how his body had reacted 
to the brief contact.

	Aragorn frowned, noting that the hobbit's skin had 
flushed and seeing the way Frodo grimaced.  "I did not hurt 
you, did I?"

	The curly, dark head shook back and forth 
empathetically.  "No!  No, you were very gentle.  I 
just...sometimes like to lie on my stomach.  Dizzy spells, 
you know."

	"Dizzy spells?  Why haven't you told me about this 
before?  Have either of your ears been aching?"

	Touched by the concern in the man's voice, Frodo 
cursed himself for lying to his friend.  "No, nothing like 
that.  I think it's more of a symptom of what the ring did 
to me.  They don't happen as often as they did just after I 
destroyed it."  He hated himself for expanding on the lie, 
but he wasn't about to admit to the king that he was trying 
to hide the erection that had formed as a result of 
Aragorn's hands on his hips.

	One of those hands that had caused the trouble 
stroked Frodo's back in long, smooth motions for a few 
moments, and the hobbit closed his eyes in pleasure.  "So 
long as they are going away, I won't bother with them for 
the time being," Strider's deep, resonating voice said 
softly.  "Try and relax, and I shall be back shortly."  
Then the hand was gone, and Frodo felt the king's presence 
retreat.  He couldn't hear the footsteps, for king or no, 
Aragorn was still a ranger at heart, and snowflakes hitting 
the ground made more noise than his footfalls.

	When he heard the door close gently, Frodo rolled 
onto his back, wincing at the ache in his shoulder.  
Staring at the ceiling, he tried to make his body calm 
itself.  If he couldn't control his reactions to Aragorn's 
touch, he was in for some incredible humiliation, for the 
ranger would likely need to remove his shirt and touch his 
bare skin in order to see to his pains.

~*******************~

-To be continued