Title:  Burdened Hearts
Author:  Emma Keigh
E-mail:  emmakeigh@ithilas.com
Rating:  R
Characters:  Frodo, Théoden, ofc
Pairings:  Frodo/Théoden
Category:  Challenge
Status:  new, complete
Date:  26 February 2003
Archive:  Slashlords’ Fuh-Q-Fest and where posted; elsewhere please ask first
Series:  none
Website:  http://www.ithilas.com/chezemma
Summary:  AU — At Parth Galen the Uruk-Hai captured all four of the 
Hobbits and set out toward Isengard.  After setting Boromir’s body afloat 
in one of the Elven boats, Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli pursued the Orc 
band in order to rescue the Hobbits and keep the Ring from falling into 
Saruman’s hands.  The Orcs were set upon by the Rohhirim and the 
Hobbits escape into Fangorn Forest.  They encountered Treebeard and 
Gandalf the White.  Gandalf entrusted Merry and Pippin to Treebeard, and 
when the others arrive, they all rode to Edoras.

Disclaimer:  The characters and melieux from The Lord of the Rings are 
the property of J.R.R. Tolkein and New Line Cinema (AOL). I only play 
with them from time to time for my own amusement and without 
compensation. No harm; no foul; no profit.  Anything or anyone new, 
however, is mine (left-overs again!).  

Warning:  This story contains an explicit scene of sex between 
consenting adults of different species.  If you are under age or don't care 
for this, LEAVE NOW. Not beta-read.  You have been warned.

BURDENED HEARTS
a Frodo/Théoden story
for Slashlords’ Fuh-Q-Fest
By Emma Keigh

Prologue — AU

At Parth Galen the Uruk-Hai captured all four of the Hobbits and set out 
toward Isengard.  After setting Boromir’s body afloat in one of the Elven 
boats, Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli pursued the Orc band in order to 
rescue the Hobbits and keep the Ring from falling into Saruman’s hands.  
The Orcs were set upon by the Rohhirim and the Hobbits escape into 
Fangorn Forest.  They encountered Treebeard and Gandalf the White.  
Gandalf entrusted Merry and Pippin to Treebeard, and when the others 
arrive, they all rode to Edoras — Gandalf and Sam on Shadowfax, Legolas 
and Gimli on Arod, and Aragorn and Frodo on Hastufel.

***

Edoras.

The halls were dark, but Frodo was sure he could find his way to the 
kitchens, if by instinct alone.  “After all,” he said to himself, “I am a 
Hobbit.”  He couldn’t sleep, and instead of waking Sam for company, he 
sought out the kitchens, and a cup of tea, and maybe a roll left-over from 
supper.  His footsteps were silent on the wooden floors, and in his elven-
cloak he blended into the shadows.  

The clang of pots told Frodo he had the right wing of the hall, and in a 
moment he found himself in the kitchens.  A plump woman sat at the 
wooden table, her feet propped on another chair, while a maid scrubbed an 
iron pot.  One lad sorted cutlery and another swept the floor.

“Excuse me,” Frodo said.  “I wonder if I could get a cup of tea?”

The cook glanced at him and gestured to a pot on the sideboard.  “Help 
yourself, lad.”  She sipped noisily from a mug.  “You stable lads are 
s’posed to get your tucker at the barracks.”

“This is no stable lad, Senga.”  The cook looked up as her name was 
spoken, and sprang to her feet.

Frodo turned to see Théoden in the doorway.  He ducked his head in a 
quick bow.  “My lord,” he said.  The king’s raised hand stopped any 
further explanation.

“Master Baggins is our honored guest,” Théoden told the cook.  He pulled 
out a chair and helped Frodo climb into it, then seated himself at the table.  
“Tea for both of us,” he ordered, “and some of those scones I know you 
have tucked away.”  He smiled and winked at the cook, causing a blush to 
rise in the woman’s face.  The king had set aside his richly embroidered 
mantle, and wore a simple brown robe over a plain nightshirt with soft 
slippers on his feet.  His hair was pulled back into a plain clasp, his brow 
bare of his crown.

“It’s a long while since you found your way here, milord,” she said as she 
opened a cupboard and removed a large crock.  She set it on the table and 
opened it, taking several wedge-shaped buns from it, and called for plates 
and tea for the king and his guest.

“I have often found the best treats are to be had not in the banquet hall, but 
in the kitchen,” Théoden confided to Frodo.  “Senga always has a crock of 
scones for midnight snacks.”  

“They’re quite good,” Frodo commented, and flashed a smile at the cook.  

“Come, Master Baggins,” Théoden commanded.  The king rose from the 
table and took the plate of scones and the mug of tea in his hands.  “Bring 
your tea and we’ll leave these good folk to their work.”

Obeying the king’s order, Frodo hopped down from his chair.  He bowed 
to the cook and thanked her, then joined the King.

Théoden led Frodo to his own chambers, and bade him sit with him.  
“Gandalf tells me you are not the child you appear to be,” the king said.

“No, sir, I am not,” he answered.  “I was fifty years old my last birthday.”  
Sitting with a king in his private chambers should have been 
discomforting, Frodo thought, but instead he found himself completely at 
ease.  He continued to nibble at the sweet scone and sip his tea, answering 
all the king’s questions about himself and the Shire.  Only when the topic 
turned to the reason for their journey did he hesitate.  He had not heard 
Gandalf mention the Ring to Théoden, nor that their destination was 
Mordor.  “I have been assigned a task by Lord Elrond,” he said honestly.  
“I may not discuss it.”

“Of course,” Théoden acknowledged.  “Gandalf assured me you were no 
danger to Rohan, and you would continue on your journey soon.”  A 
silence settled uneasily between them.

“Your hospitality is much appreciated,” Frodo said after a moment.  “It 
has been a long time since I slept under a roof and in a true bed.”

“You must miss your family,” the king suggested, “your wife and 
children.”

“I am an orphan,” Frodo explained, “and I have never been inclined to 
marry.”

“Oh?”  Théoden’s gaze caught the Hobbit’s eyes and held them.  

For the first time Frodo looked deeply into the king’s eyes, seeing there 
the strain and loneliness of the crown.  There was sadness, as well, and the 
Hobbit knew the king would mourn his son for the rest of his life.

“Before Gríma bewitched me,” the king said quietly, “I was served by a 
squire...” he looked away from Frodo and cleared his throat, “…who 
looked after my personal needs.”

There was need deep in the king’s voice that tugged at Frodo’s heart.  He 
did not know if he could ease the man’s suffering, but still he put his small 
hand on Théoden’s arm.  “I am not free to make a commitment of service, 
my lord,” he said, “but tonight is my own, and I would spend it in your 
company, if you wish.”

A sad smile crossed the king’s features, and he patted Frodo’s hand where 
it lay on his arm.  “Then share my bed tonight, if you will, Master 
Baggins, for I dread facing the darkness alone.”

They drank their tea and ate their scones, and as the candles guttered out, 
Théoden lifted Frodo into his bed.  It was soft as a cloud, with snowy 
linens and a heavy coverlet.  The king gathered the small Hobbit into his 
arms, and Frodo felt a kiss pressed to the top of his head.  Sobs wracked 
the man’s body, and Frodo hugged him tightly, whispering soothing 
sounds into the night.  Even a king must weep, he thought, and he lifted 
his head to kiss Théoden’s cheek.  The sobs abated, and he wiped the tears 
from the king’s face with a gentle touch.

A large hand stroked the smooth face and guided the Hobbit’s lips to his 
own.  Their first kiss was chaste, just a brushing of lips, but soon they 
opened to each other.  Tentatively their tongues touched, then explored 
each other’s mouth as needs turned into desire and passion.  Frodo ran his 
fingers into the long hair, his action matched by Théoden, and when the 
king pulled the smaller body closer to his own, his hardened member was 
caught between them.

Théoden moaned and pulled his mouth away from Frodo’s.  They both 
breathed heavily, and Frodo whispered, “Yes,” to the king’s unasked 
question.  At the same time he shifted his hips, pressing his erection into 
the king’s side, and he pulled up the long nightshirt to expose the man’s 
body.  Together the slipped off their garments, then lay back, skin to skin, 
the heat of their desires building as they kissed and stroked each other in 
the darkness.  For a time they each forgot their burdens, they each forgot 
their grief, they each forgot their loneliness.  When the moon finally rose, 
it filled the king’s chamber with its pale light, the two heads, one dark, one 
fair, together on one pillow.

The End


© 2003 Emma Keigh
1,284 words