Disclaimer: I don't own LoTR or Friends.
FRODO'S FEARS
Frodo Baggins is scared. His heart thumps loudly within his chest, his pulse rate is twice as high as it should be, and he is appalled at the terrible sound that his knees make as they knock together. Not to mention the small puddle of liquid beneath him which is indicative of a complete lack of control on his part.
He throws back another glass of mead in a hand which shakes and trembles, as he looks about him in terror. What is it that has our normally brave hero all atwitter? Has Saruman returned from the dead to menace him, is the Balrog standing before him ready to devour him in one quick bite, or is it worse - it is Sauron himself, his black and evil magnificence, that threatens the very well-being of our hobbit hero? No, it is none of these things, no monster, no evil wizard, no dark god, that has Frodo shaking in his boots and attempting to drink himself into oblivion. Frodo is frightened because tonight is his last night of bachelor hobbithood before he shuffles off into that state from which no hobbit has ever come through unscathed - in other words, Frodo is to be wed on the morrow.
So why is he here in this strange place, this bar frequented mostly by human males, alone and unattended by any of his merry group? Where are Merry and Pippin, those mischievous boys who dog his every step? Where Legolas, the glorious elf, or Gimili, the sullen dwarf? Where is Gandalf the Grey, the sage wizard, the mystical shaman and benevolent spellmaker? And most of all, where is Samwise, the most loyal, most true, most dedicated friend a hobbit could have? To tell the truth, he has left their company but a short time before, at the home of his beloved uncle Bilbo, where they have all come together for that most ancient of rites - the bachelor party.
So once again one asks, why is he here, and not with his friends, swapping tales and enjoying the camaraderie for which this brave band is renowned far and wide? Partaking of a variety of spirits and feasting on the many good things which the hobbit world has to offer? He has left their company because he cannot explain to them these feelings which he harbors, these fears which haunt his waking dreams and make of his life a living nightmare. Not one of his merry band of friends has ventured into this much vaunted estate, and he knows that they will not understand what he is going through, with what trepidation he stands on the brink of wedded bliss, the qualms that have his stomach tied up in knots and feeling as if an army of orcs is tramping through his intestines.
Let us turn back time for now, and go back to the bachelor party, as Frodo sits sipping at his solitary mead, watching with apprehensive eyes the drunken men that revel about him, and perhaps we can ascertain the cause of Frodo's great distress.
"Conga line!" Pippin yells, grabbing Merry about the waist and lining himself up directly behind his friend, while beckoning to the others with one wild hand. "C'mon y'all! Let's conga!"
He is immediately joined by Gandalf, Legolas, Gimli, Samwise and Boromir, who form a strange chain behind him as they begin to twist and writhe in time to the music. "Conga! Conga!" they chant as they twist and turn about the room. Frodo sits on his throne of honor, watching them all fondly, a glass of mead in his hand. He is happy that his friends have done this for him, remembered him on this auspicious occasion, the night before he is to be wed. All of his friends are here, as well as his uncle Bilbo. He wouldn't want it any other way. Just as he thinks this, Bilbo catches his hand, and urges him to join in the fun, and they soon form an addendum to the clumsily moving conga line as it snakes its way about the hobbit home.
They dance and dance about the room, until they fall together on the floor in exhaustion, a squirming heap of hobbits, elves, dwarf and wizard. Enjoying the closeness of the moment, they stay as they are, laughing in merriment, and taking advantage of the situation to cop a few anonymous feels. But soon enough they reluctantly rise and head straight for the keg of ale, where Gimli plays bartender and pours them each a large mug of the frothy drink.
"When do we get to see the dirty movies?" Sam cries out, hiccuping in between words. His gait is more than a little unsteady, as he rests one hand companionably on his best friend's shoulder. "Bring on the stag films!" He begins to hoot and holler, clapping and stamping his feet, until Gandalf tells him unceremoniously to "pipe down, you horrible hobbit" and he momentarily stops.
"Before we do that, let's have Legolas do a strip-tease!" Boromir shouts, and everybody joins in the chant, whistling and cheering, while the poor embarrassed elf blushes hotly.
"Pipe down, you lot!" he yells at them, but he isn't really mad, and with a little more coaxing, and the appropriate music being turned on, he allows himself to be persuaded. He stands at the head of the room, against the backdrop of Bilbo Baggins' fireplace, and he begins to strut his stuff as if he were on a runway in Vegas. His friends cheer him on as he tosses items of clothing into the anxious crowd, beginning with his lacy finger gloves and ending with his black leather thong, which he turns around to take off, presenting his cute white derriere to the audience.
"More, more!" they shout at him, "turn around, turn around!"
At first he refuses, modestly shaking his pretty blonde head. But finally he makes his move and the ensuing cheers can be heard in the next shire. Frodo applauds as heartily as anyone, although this is far from the first time he has seen this sight, until at last Legolas redresses himself and rejoins the party.
Gandalf takes advantage of the temporary quiet to turn to his small hobbit friend. He claps him heartily upon the shoulder, as he clamps his other hand over his big pointy hat, lest he lose it in his drunken condition. "Well, old friend," he begins, "who would have ever thought that we'd be here, together, for such a special occasion as this. To think that little Frodo is actually getting married, something your famous uncle never did!"
"I know," Frodo replies. "Who would have thunk it, eh?" He shakes his head, marveling himself at what has happened. It happened so fast, he barely had time to think about it. One day he was himself, just Frodo Baggins, simple hobbit and one-time keeper of the ring, and then he was engaged to be married and on the verge of beginning a new life altogether. It was a lot to take in for a small hobbit like himself.
"Where is your intended?" Gandalf asks, looking about the room.
"Not here," Frodo replies. "Not supposed to be here. Bad luck if we see each other before the wedding tomorrow."
"Quite right," Gandalf nods his approval, "quite right. After the wedding, where will you live? Here in the shire, or somewhere else?"
Frodo feels a wave of shock rush over him. He hasn't really considered that question, nor the import of it. He has always lived in the shire, and it has never dawned on him that he could ever live anywhere else. Even though his betrothed is human, it has never occurred to him that they will live anywhere but in his own cozy little cottage, among his own kind. He isn't sure he is ready to consider this alternative, and his head begins to get dizzy at the thought.
Before he can reply, he feels a pair of large hands cover his eyes and a familiar voice in his ear cries, "Peekaboo! Guess who!" Frodo knows at once who it is, and turns about to come face to face with his intended.
"Sweetheart!" Aragon cries, hugging him tightly before giving him a big kiss on the lips. "What's happening, honey?"
Frodo kisses him back out of habit, but his mind is still reeling at the possibilities that Gandalf's words have opened up. It takes him a minute to even realize that Aragon is where he shouldn't be. "What are you doing here?" he cries. "IT'S BAD LUCK!" He makes the sign of the cross with his fingers, to ward off any further bad luck, while Aragorn only laughs heartily.
"That's just silly superstition!" he roars. "I just wanted to see my precious little hobbit tonight. I missed you, and I'm going to miss you even more later on, when I have to sleep alone, just because you think something bad will happen if we sleep together, even though we've been doing it all this time." He reaches down and pinches Frodo's cheek fondly. "But I put up with it, because I love you so much!" He squeezes Frodo's buns with relish, enjoying the feel of soft hobbit flesh. Frodo's friends pretend not to be paying attention, but they are eating up the whole scene. All except for Boromir, who sits by himself in a corner, crying out, "Come see the horn of Gondor! It's really amazing!"
Frodo is becoming really frustrated now. "Aragorn!" he cries out in vexation, stamping his hairy hobbit foot, "you're not supposed to be at my bachelor party! You're spoiling everything!"
Aragorn begins to pout at his lover's words, mumbling something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, "If I were king, you wouldn't do this to me. Still not king." He hangs his great head despondently, and Frodo takes pity on the big lug. Standing on a nearby chair, he reaches up and gives his fiancé a big kiss, and a little slap and tickle which is sure to bring a smile to his face. Sure enough, this ploy begins to work, and Aragorn is smiling once again.
"Okay, you don't have to leave, for now. But why don't you go and wait in the other room. Okay? Humor me, please!"
Aragorn agrees to this and retires to the other end of the cottage, taking with him a huge glass of ale and a plate full of food. Frodo turns around and notices that Bilbo has brought out a huge platter of shrooms, which the others are devouring with intensity. He finds that he himself has no appetite for them, and is very distressed over the great changes that are about to take place in his life. While the others are busy consuming shrooms, he takes the opportunity to steal out of the house and away from the small hobbit shire. He walks and walks for ages until he comes upon a tavern, which he enters. And now here he sits, staring morosely at his mead, and wondering what is to become of him.
A sudden voice at his elbow startles him, and he looks up to find himself being addressed by a dark-haired human male with large woeful eyes. "Excuse me, I don't mean to disturb you or anything, but would you mind if I sat here?" He indicates the empty chair at Frodo's table, and Frodo nods his agreement, being a polite young hobbit, even though he is far from desirous of the company of men.
"I know you would probably like to be by yourself, but you appear to be rather on the down side, and as I know that I myself am feeling rather depressed, I just thought that we might just be depressed together, if you know what I mean." He attempts a little laugh, but neither one of them is cheered by this, as he seats himself by Frodo.
"Allow me to introduce myself," he holds out on hand, which Frodo takes. "My name is Chandler. Chandler Bing. And what might your name be?"
"I am Frodo Baggins," is the reply.
"Oh, wow, are you that Frodo Baggins, the one that had all the adventures with the ring of power, battling evil and fighting truth and justice for the American way? No, wait, that's Superman."
Frodo looks at Chandler oddly, before saying wearily, "Yes, I am THAT Frodo Baggins, nephew of the famous Bilbo Baggins, also of the shire, and yes, I am the one that had all the adventures and fought with orcs and Saruman and the Balrog and Sauron and all that lot, blah, blah, blah..." He raises his cup to his lips and drains it in one mighty chug.
"I've been reading about your adventures," Chandler goes on, "about you and the fellowship and I must say it's all rather exciting, and I'm very thrilled to meet you. I hope that I'm not bothering you." He looks as if he is ready to scuttle back off into the shadows at a moment's notice, and for a fleeting second Frodo is reminded unhappily of Gollum, but that moment passes, and Frodo puts out one little hand in a gesture of halt. "No, it's okay, stay if you like. I'm just not very good company tonight, that's all."
"Me neither, actually," Chandler replies, "in fact, for just a moment there, I actually forgot why I'm here and why I'm unhappy. That's a good thing, you know," and he peers anxiously down at the hobbit's face. "But now I remember and I am feeling depressed. Again."
Frodo rouses himself from his misery long enough to ask, "Why are you do unhappy?" He feels compelled to do so, but he isn't sure just why.
Chandler glances about him nervously, as if afraid of being overheard, then leans forward and confides in a loud whisper,"I am getting married tomorrow."
Frodo's eyes grow large in amazement. "What a coincidence! I am getting married tomorrow too!"
"Small world," Chandler agrees. "You don't seem much happier about it than I do, though, or you wouldn't be here, now would you ?"
"No, you're right about that." Frodo sighs and takes another drink of mead. "It's not that I don't love Aragorn, because I really do, but when I start to think about everything in my life that is going to change... I don't know. It just scares me and I get cold feet." He feels rather than sees Chandler's curious glance, and hastily adds, "Not literally."
Chandler nods in mutual misery. "I know just what you mean. I love Mon with all my heart and soul, but the idea of being married to her is just freaking me out, I don't know why. I guess because it's so permanent, and I'm not used to things being permanent in my life. Does that make any sense?"
Frodo nods in return. "Aragorn and I have been through a lot together. Someday he expects to be kind. Where will my place be then? Queen? I don't think so."
Chandler considers this question carefully before replying. "There must be a better title than that. Make one up. After all, it is only a word. What counts is how you feel inside, about Aragorn. If he is the one that makes you truly happy, then it doesn't matter about the rest of it. If you're lucky enough to find the person that you want to spend the rest of your life with, then you can make it work." He looks astounded at his own words. "Wow, I'm wiser than I thought!"
"You're as wise as Gandalf," Frodo agrees, and he is a very wise man.
Chandler rises from the table, and hugs his new hobbit friend. "Thank you, Frodo, for letting me see what I knew all along. I love Monica and I don't want to be with anyone else but her. I have to go now. I'm getting married tomorrow."
Frodo rises as well. "You're right, Chandler, and so do I." The two new friends make their way from the tavern, and hug again outside the door before they part and go their separate ways.
It is in the small hours of the night that Frodo creeps into the large bed where Aragorn lies awake, reading. "What are you doing here?" the future king asks, surprised. "I thought you said it would be bad luck until after the wedding."
"Well, I was wrong," Frodo replies, hugging Aragorn tenderly and kissing him full on the lips. "Luck is what you make of it, and I didn't want to be without you, even for one night."
Aragorn starts to say something else, but Frodo shushes him with a kiss and turns out the light.
THE END
FRODO'S FEARS
Frodo Baggins is scared. His heart thumps loudly within his chest, his pulse rate is twice as high as it should be, and he is appalled at the terrible sound that his knees make as they knock together. Not to mention the small puddle of liquid beneath him which is indicative of a complete lack of control on his part.
He throws back another glass of mead in a hand which shakes and trembles, as he looks about him in terror. What is it that has our normally brave hero all atwitter? Has Saruman returned from the dead to menace him, is the Balrog standing before him ready to devour him in one quick bite, or is it worse - it is Sauron himself, his black and evil magnificence, that threatens the very well-being of our hobbit hero? No, it is none of these things, no monster, no evil wizard, no dark god, that has Frodo shaking in his boots and attempting to drink himself into oblivion. Frodo is frightened because tonight is his last night of bachelor hobbithood before he shuffles off into that state from which no hobbit has ever come through unscathed - in other words, Frodo is to be wed on the morrow.
So why is he here in this strange place, this bar frequented mostly by human males, alone and unattended by any of his merry group? Where are Merry and Pippin, those mischievous boys who dog his every step? Where Legolas, the glorious elf, or Gimili, the sullen dwarf? Where is Gandalf the Grey, the sage wizard, the mystical shaman and benevolent spellmaker? And most of all, where is Samwise, the most loyal, most true, most dedicated friend a hobbit could have? To tell the truth, he has left their company but a short time before, at the home of his beloved uncle Bilbo, where they have all come together for that most ancient of rites - the bachelor party.
So once again one asks, why is he here, and not with his friends, swapping tales and enjoying the camaraderie for which this brave band is renowned far and wide? Partaking of a variety of spirits and feasting on the many good things which the hobbit world has to offer? He has left their company because he cannot explain to them these feelings which he harbors, these fears which haunt his waking dreams and make of his life a living nightmare. Not one of his merry band of friends has ventured into this much vaunted estate, and he knows that they will not understand what he is going through, with what trepidation he stands on the brink of wedded bliss, the qualms that have his stomach tied up in knots and feeling as if an army of orcs is tramping through his intestines.
Let us turn back time for now, and go back to the bachelor party, as Frodo sits sipping at his solitary mead, watching with apprehensive eyes the drunken men that revel about him, and perhaps we can ascertain the cause of Frodo's great distress.
"Conga line!" Pippin yells, grabbing Merry about the waist and lining himself up directly behind his friend, while beckoning to the others with one wild hand. "C'mon y'all! Let's conga!"
He is immediately joined by Gandalf, Legolas, Gimli, Samwise and Boromir, who form a strange chain behind him as they begin to twist and writhe in time to the music. "Conga! Conga!" they chant as they twist and turn about the room. Frodo sits on his throne of honor, watching them all fondly, a glass of mead in his hand. He is happy that his friends have done this for him, remembered him on this auspicious occasion, the night before he is to be wed. All of his friends are here, as well as his uncle Bilbo. He wouldn't want it any other way. Just as he thinks this, Bilbo catches his hand, and urges him to join in the fun, and they soon form an addendum to the clumsily moving conga line as it snakes its way about the hobbit home.
They dance and dance about the room, until they fall together on the floor in exhaustion, a squirming heap of hobbits, elves, dwarf and wizard. Enjoying the closeness of the moment, they stay as they are, laughing in merriment, and taking advantage of the situation to cop a few anonymous feels. But soon enough they reluctantly rise and head straight for the keg of ale, where Gimli plays bartender and pours them each a large mug of the frothy drink.
"When do we get to see the dirty movies?" Sam cries out, hiccuping in between words. His gait is more than a little unsteady, as he rests one hand companionably on his best friend's shoulder. "Bring on the stag films!" He begins to hoot and holler, clapping and stamping his feet, until Gandalf tells him unceremoniously to "pipe down, you horrible hobbit" and he momentarily stops.
"Before we do that, let's have Legolas do a strip-tease!" Boromir shouts, and everybody joins in the chant, whistling and cheering, while the poor embarrassed elf blushes hotly.
"Pipe down, you lot!" he yells at them, but he isn't really mad, and with a little more coaxing, and the appropriate music being turned on, he allows himself to be persuaded. He stands at the head of the room, against the backdrop of Bilbo Baggins' fireplace, and he begins to strut his stuff as if he were on a runway in Vegas. His friends cheer him on as he tosses items of clothing into the anxious crowd, beginning with his lacy finger gloves and ending with his black leather thong, which he turns around to take off, presenting his cute white derriere to the audience.
"More, more!" they shout at him, "turn around, turn around!"
At first he refuses, modestly shaking his pretty blonde head. But finally he makes his move and the ensuing cheers can be heard in the next shire. Frodo applauds as heartily as anyone, although this is far from the first time he has seen this sight, until at last Legolas redresses himself and rejoins the party.
Gandalf takes advantage of the temporary quiet to turn to his small hobbit friend. He claps him heartily upon the shoulder, as he clamps his other hand over his big pointy hat, lest he lose it in his drunken condition. "Well, old friend," he begins, "who would have ever thought that we'd be here, together, for such a special occasion as this. To think that little Frodo is actually getting married, something your famous uncle never did!"
"I know," Frodo replies. "Who would have thunk it, eh?" He shakes his head, marveling himself at what has happened. It happened so fast, he barely had time to think about it. One day he was himself, just Frodo Baggins, simple hobbit and one-time keeper of the ring, and then he was engaged to be married and on the verge of beginning a new life altogether. It was a lot to take in for a small hobbit like himself.
"Where is your intended?" Gandalf asks, looking about the room.
"Not here," Frodo replies. "Not supposed to be here. Bad luck if we see each other before the wedding tomorrow."
"Quite right," Gandalf nods his approval, "quite right. After the wedding, where will you live? Here in the shire, or somewhere else?"
Frodo feels a wave of shock rush over him. He hasn't really considered that question, nor the import of it. He has always lived in the shire, and it has never dawned on him that he could ever live anywhere else. Even though his betrothed is human, it has never occurred to him that they will live anywhere but in his own cozy little cottage, among his own kind. He isn't sure he is ready to consider this alternative, and his head begins to get dizzy at the thought.
Before he can reply, he feels a pair of large hands cover his eyes and a familiar voice in his ear cries, "Peekaboo! Guess who!" Frodo knows at once who it is, and turns about to come face to face with his intended.
"Sweetheart!" Aragon cries, hugging him tightly before giving him a big kiss on the lips. "What's happening, honey?"
Frodo kisses him back out of habit, but his mind is still reeling at the possibilities that Gandalf's words have opened up. It takes him a minute to even realize that Aragon is where he shouldn't be. "What are you doing here?" he cries. "IT'S BAD LUCK!" He makes the sign of the cross with his fingers, to ward off any further bad luck, while Aragorn only laughs heartily.
"That's just silly superstition!" he roars. "I just wanted to see my precious little hobbit tonight. I missed you, and I'm going to miss you even more later on, when I have to sleep alone, just because you think something bad will happen if we sleep together, even though we've been doing it all this time." He reaches down and pinches Frodo's cheek fondly. "But I put up with it, because I love you so much!" He squeezes Frodo's buns with relish, enjoying the feel of soft hobbit flesh. Frodo's friends pretend not to be paying attention, but they are eating up the whole scene. All except for Boromir, who sits by himself in a corner, crying out, "Come see the horn of Gondor! It's really amazing!"
Frodo is becoming really frustrated now. "Aragorn!" he cries out in vexation, stamping his hairy hobbit foot, "you're not supposed to be at my bachelor party! You're spoiling everything!"
Aragorn begins to pout at his lover's words, mumbling something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, "If I were king, you wouldn't do this to me. Still not king." He hangs his great head despondently, and Frodo takes pity on the big lug. Standing on a nearby chair, he reaches up and gives his fiancé a big kiss, and a little slap and tickle which is sure to bring a smile to his face. Sure enough, this ploy begins to work, and Aragorn is smiling once again.
"Okay, you don't have to leave, for now. But why don't you go and wait in the other room. Okay? Humor me, please!"
Aragorn agrees to this and retires to the other end of the cottage, taking with him a huge glass of ale and a plate full of food. Frodo turns around and notices that Bilbo has brought out a huge platter of shrooms, which the others are devouring with intensity. He finds that he himself has no appetite for them, and is very distressed over the great changes that are about to take place in his life. While the others are busy consuming shrooms, he takes the opportunity to steal out of the house and away from the small hobbit shire. He walks and walks for ages until he comes upon a tavern, which he enters. And now here he sits, staring morosely at his mead, and wondering what is to become of him.
A sudden voice at his elbow startles him, and he looks up to find himself being addressed by a dark-haired human male with large woeful eyes. "Excuse me, I don't mean to disturb you or anything, but would you mind if I sat here?" He indicates the empty chair at Frodo's table, and Frodo nods his agreement, being a polite young hobbit, even though he is far from desirous of the company of men.
"I know you would probably like to be by yourself, but you appear to be rather on the down side, and as I know that I myself am feeling rather depressed, I just thought that we might just be depressed together, if you know what I mean." He attempts a little laugh, but neither one of them is cheered by this, as he seats himself by Frodo.
"Allow me to introduce myself," he holds out on hand, which Frodo takes. "My name is Chandler. Chandler Bing. And what might your name be?"
"I am Frodo Baggins," is the reply.
"Oh, wow, are you that Frodo Baggins, the one that had all the adventures with the ring of power, battling evil and fighting truth and justice for the American way? No, wait, that's Superman."
Frodo looks at Chandler oddly, before saying wearily, "Yes, I am THAT Frodo Baggins, nephew of the famous Bilbo Baggins, also of the shire, and yes, I am the one that had all the adventures and fought with orcs and Saruman and the Balrog and Sauron and all that lot, blah, blah, blah..." He raises his cup to his lips and drains it in one mighty chug.
"I've been reading about your adventures," Chandler goes on, "about you and the fellowship and I must say it's all rather exciting, and I'm very thrilled to meet you. I hope that I'm not bothering you." He looks as if he is ready to scuttle back off into the shadows at a moment's notice, and for a fleeting second Frodo is reminded unhappily of Gollum, but that moment passes, and Frodo puts out one little hand in a gesture of halt. "No, it's okay, stay if you like. I'm just not very good company tonight, that's all."
"Me neither, actually," Chandler replies, "in fact, for just a moment there, I actually forgot why I'm here and why I'm unhappy. That's a good thing, you know," and he peers anxiously down at the hobbit's face. "But now I remember and I am feeling depressed. Again."
Frodo rouses himself from his misery long enough to ask, "Why are you do unhappy?" He feels compelled to do so, but he isn't sure just why.
Chandler glances about him nervously, as if afraid of being overheard, then leans forward and confides in a loud whisper,"I am getting married tomorrow."
Frodo's eyes grow large in amazement. "What a coincidence! I am getting married tomorrow too!"
"Small world," Chandler agrees. "You don't seem much happier about it than I do, though, or you wouldn't be here, now would you ?"
"No, you're right about that." Frodo sighs and takes another drink of mead. "It's not that I don't love Aragorn, because I really do, but when I start to think about everything in my life that is going to change... I don't know. It just scares me and I get cold feet." He feels rather than sees Chandler's curious glance, and hastily adds, "Not literally."
Chandler nods in mutual misery. "I know just what you mean. I love Mon with all my heart and soul, but the idea of being married to her is just freaking me out, I don't know why. I guess because it's so permanent, and I'm not used to things being permanent in my life. Does that make any sense?"
Frodo nods in return. "Aragorn and I have been through a lot together. Someday he expects to be kind. Where will my place be then? Queen? I don't think so."
Chandler considers this question carefully before replying. "There must be a better title than that. Make one up. After all, it is only a word. What counts is how you feel inside, about Aragorn. If he is the one that makes you truly happy, then it doesn't matter about the rest of it. If you're lucky enough to find the person that you want to spend the rest of your life with, then you can make it work." He looks astounded at his own words. "Wow, I'm wiser than I thought!"
"You're as wise as Gandalf," Frodo agrees, and he is a very wise man.
Chandler rises from the table, and hugs his new hobbit friend. "Thank you, Frodo, for letting me see what I knew all along. I love Monica and I don't want to be with anyone else but her. I have to go now. I'm getting married tomorrow."
Frodo rises as well. "You're right, Chandler, and so do I." The two new friends make their way from the tavern, and hug again outside the door before they part and go their separate ways.
It is in the small hours of the night that Frodo creeps into the large bed where Aragorn lies awake, reading. "What are you doing here?" the future king asks, surprised. "I thought you said it would be bad luck until after the wedding."
"Well, I was wrong," Frodo replies, hugging Aragorn tenderly and kissing him full on the lips. "Luck is what you make of it, and I didn't want to be without you, even for one night."
Aragorn starts to say something else, but Frodo shushes him with a kiss and turns out the light.
THE END