Frodo trailed Aragorn reluctantly into the examination room, the papery gown that was all that stood between the Hobbit and complete nudity flapping around his legs and making him feel quite as if he were wearing a dress. There were no ties to hold the flimsy garment shut over his swollen belly; Frodo had both hands fisted in the material in an attempt to preserve his modesty. Not, he thought dismally, that it would matter in a few moments when the examination commenced.
As if reading his thoughts, Aragorn proffered the nervous Hobbit an encouraging smile as he patted the table that stood in the center of the room. Frodo eyed it dubiously, taking in its length—far too large in his opinion—and the fixtures that stuck out at either side, the purpose of which Frodo could not fathom.
"Must I?" he queried, feeling suddenly very uneasy about the whole thing.
Aragorn laughed and nodded, reaching down to assist the unenthusiastic Hobbit up the step and onto the table. "I must inspect you thoroughly, Master Baggins. Especially," he added with a slight tone of disapproval, "as you waited so long to come to me."
"But I did not think it was possible," Frodo protested, blue eyes dropping to his distended belly. "It was not supposed to be possible."
"Possible or not, it has happened." As he spoke, Aragorn gently took hold of Frodo's left wrist, thumb pressing over the pulse point there. Frodo kept still and silent, perceiving that Aragorn was making some mental observations. A few more minutes were spent in relative silence as Aragorn checked Frodo's eyes, ears, throat, heart, and lungs, punctuated only by a soft word from the King or an answer from Frodo to some question Aragorn posed. It wasn't until Aragorn truly began the intimate part of the examination that things began steadily to go downhill.
"Now, lie back, please, and open your legs." Aragorn's voice was stern, but as always, very kind. He knew that his patient was nervous in spite of the trust he placed in the King of Gondor and the medical technology the White City possessed.
"What?" Frodo said blankly, feeling utterly scandalized at the prospect. "Why?"
"So that I may examine you," the King answeredas if it were the most normal thing in the world to be saying such a thing to a Hobbit—a male Hobbit at that. "I must perform an internal as well as external exam, Frodo. I assure you," he added when he saw the other's dubious expression, "it is a quite normal procedure. Every pregnant woman must go through this exact sort of exam."
Frodo looked even more unhappy at this pronouncement, but he did lie back, however unwillingly. Gently, Aragorn guided his legs up and apart, placing each foot in one of the contraptions attached to either side of the table. Frodo felt as if he had been laid utterly bare now; with his thighs spread like this not even the over-sized gown could protect his modesty. Aragorn, however, seemed unfazed.
"Now move down until your bottom rests upon the very edge of the table," Aragorn instructed calmly. When Frodo did not seem inclined to comply, he repeated himself in a no-nonsense way that had the Hobbit acquiescing and wiggling his way down the table, thoroughly discontent with the entire situation.
"You now must open your legs for me, making sure your knees are asfar apart as possible."
If Frodo had thought himself embarrassed before, it was nothing to the heat Aragorn's words inspired. He would be completely exposing himself to this man who, however trusted and admired, was not a fellow Hobbit. And even worse at this time—a male. Somehow, that made the situation ten times worse in Frodo's eyes.
And then, too, was the unpleasant realization that such exposure would mean Aragorn noticing the heavy amounts of discharge down there—soembarrassing in that moment that the Hobbit could hardly stand it . . .
After a long pause during which Aragorn seemed to have an infinite amount of patience, Frodo yielded – at least in his view. He did, after all, let his legs fall open. The catch to this was, of course, that it was to an extent that Frodo considered proper, but which was insufficient for Aragorn's examination.
"You will have to spread your legs further than that, Frodo." The King's voice, while gentle as always, was firm and just the tiniest bit reproving. The Hobbit looked utterly mutinous as Aragorn forged on in that same gentle voice, "Drop your knees as far as you possibly can. Once you have done this, I will fold your gown up above your hips and begin the examination."
With the same reluctance that had pervaded this entire exchange thus far, Frodo complied with Aragorn's wishes. The position he found himself in was far from comfortable. The devices on either side of the table ensured that his legs remained spread, and his gown had been gently pushed aside to leave his private parts utterly exposed. He found neither the cool air that now brushed over his genitals nor the feeling that he was stretched wide and utterly open to Aragorn
in any way enjoyable.
The scrape of wood on stone drew Frodo's attention to Aragorn, who was pulling a stool over to him. To his seemingly endless embarrassment, and somewhat mounting horror, the stool came to a rest directly between his spread legs. A place that, Frodo assumed, would give Aragorn an excellent view of all that he had laid open to examination in the last several moments.
Frodo's mortification soared to new heights in that moment. Aragorn had warned him, yes, but he had not quite comprehended the full meaning until now. Had not quite understood that an external exam involved being looked at and touched in places only the hands of his lover and himself had explored before. And speaking of hands, he perceived with a start just how large Aragorn's were. This, Frodo realized as Aragorn began to speak, would be very uncomfortable indeed.
"Once I have washed my hands thoroughly, I will coat them in a substance that should make things a little less uncomfortable for you as I examine you. Though it will feel a little cold at first." As he spoke, Aragorn suited actions to words, coming to sit upon the stool when he was finished. "I will take a quick look at you on the outside, and then insert two fingers into your vaginal opening, so that I may get an idea of how things are going. I will also examine your vaginal discharge for signs of abnormalities or infection. Do you understand?"
Feeling horribly abused and cringing inwardly at each repetition, so bluntly administered, of terms that were far too anatomically correct for his taste, Frodo nodded in affirmation, feeling his body tense slightly in reaction to the thought of those man-sized fingers entering him. Wood scraped on stone again as Aragorn moved far, far too close, making Frodo squirm in an instinctive wish to close his legs against what he regarded as the King's prying gaze.
"It will go easier for you, little one, if you do not tense up so."
Damn Aragorn and his gentle voice, Frodo thought savagely even as he nodded, concentrating on relaxing the muscles that had automatically tightened upon the realization of Aragorn's proximity.
"I am going to touch you now."
He felt gentle hands brush the place that had metamorphosed over the last six months, forming a new, intimate part of his anatomy. Now, with Aragorn's fingers parting the folds of his secret place and the man's eyes fastened upon that area, his embarrassment was immeasurable. He had not thought it possible to blush so hotly, but his face felt as if it were on fire; surely it must be glowing like the beacons on the heights. He bit his lower lip, glancing to the side in an attempt to distract himself—to little avail—from the sight of his widespread thighs and the King bent between them.
"You are lubricating . . . and your vulva is a bit swollen, which is normal during pregnancy. No significant irritation or redness . . ."
Aragorn palpated the tender flesh, rubbing and exploring in a way that, Frodo felt, was quite inappropriate. The feeling intensified as the fingers carefully parted the inner folds and stretched wide his opening for Aragorn's scrutiny.
"I will be as gentle as I possibly can, Frodo. Especially as your hymen is still intact." At Frodo's wide-eyed, questioning look, Aragorn elaborated, "It is the maidenhead, a barrier that is usually broken when a woman first engages in sexual intercourse. As, obviously, you have never had sex as a woman does, yours is still unbroken."
Completely dazed, Frodo nodded, wishing Aragorn would stop talking and let him be. But no one with the power to grant such wishes seemed to be listening, for the human continued to speak.
"Now, I will need you to bear down and push, much as if you were having a bowel movement." At Frodo's expression—one of mixed confusion and distaste at the comparison Aragorn had just drawn—the King explained, "It is a way to test the pelvic floor and perfectly routine in an examination such as this. Trust me, Frodo."
Sighing heavily, Frodo gave in and did as he had been told. Aragorn seemed satisfied with whatever results this action had produced for he moved on—making the Hobbit jump slightly as the large fingers moved down and parted his buttocks. He made a half-protesting, half-outraged noise which Aragorn, this time, seemed incline to take in stride and without comment.
"Tell me, have you experienced any itching or burning in this area?" The tip of a finger pressed lightly against the Hobbit's anus, making Frodo shift and squeak a little in protest. "Answer enough," the King said, apparently deciding it was best to spare Frodo from answering aloud. "I will give you something to help with that problem before you leave here today. It is another very common pregnancy issue."
Aragorn's soft voice urged him to relax and then quite abruptly Frodo felt the lips of his sex being parted and the feel of two cold—a little cold indeed!—fingers entering him and sliding in deeply. It was a tight fit in Frodo's opinion, not entirely eased by the substance on those fingers in spite of the copious amounts Aragorn had used. Distracted by his own discomfort, he only vaguely heard Aragorn's request to tell him if he experienced any pain or tenderness throughout this part of the examination.
After what felt like an eternity of fingers that poked and prodded from within and without, they withdrew. Even as they did, Aragorn's free hand slipped over Frodo's belly, palpating gently for a few minutes before he withdrew for the moment, nodding to himself. Aragorn studied his fingers, going so far as to sniff the mix of lubricant and vaginal fluid coating them. Frodo watched this with an almost hopeful expression, thinking the worst might be over.
"Everything appears quite normal," Aragorn announced after a moment, turning away to wash his hands and then, to Frodo's dismay,re-coat them in the slippery substance once more. "I must perform another exam before we proceed, Frodo. This time, however, I must place one finger in your vagina and the other within your rectum."
All the poor Hobbit could think was Ah, but of course.
Aragorn seemed to divine Frodo's utter unhappiness at the prospect and gently rested a hand on one of the Hobbit's bent knees. "In any pregnancy, there are certain things that must be checked in such a way—I assure you; you are not a unique case in this instance. I will be as swift as possible. Now, if you could just relax for me . . ."
"That," Frodo said a little acidly, "is easier said than done." Still he did try; an effort that was utterly pointless in the end. At the first touch of Aragorn's fingers he tensed, taking in a sharp breath.
"Relax," Aragorn urged softly as his index finger gently pressed into Frodo's birth passage once more. The second finger of the same hand slid the short distance to explore the tight ring of muscles at the Hobbit's other entrance.
Frodo could not stifle a slight whimper as the finger pressed forward into him. However slowly, however gently Aragorn performed the action, the fingers that found their way deep inside him were quite uncomfortable, almost to the point of pain, and evoked a strange feeling of fullness as they poked and prodded at sensitive, unidentified internal parts of Frodo's new physiology. They caused Frodo to squirm slightly as they moved deeper still, inching higher up into his birth passage and backside until he could feel knuckles against his flesh.
"Be still," Aragorn murmured softly, doing very little to put the Hobbit at ease as the pressing and probing and squeezing intensified.
It was a pity that certain male parts of Frodo did not feel the discomfort that the rest of him did. Feeling the tide of embarrassment and mortification washing over him once more, he waited for the eternity it seemed to take for Aragorn to finish the examination and pull his fingers out.
"We are getting toward the end, I promise you," Aragorn said, thoroughly cleansing his hands. "I still must, however, look upinside you." The King sounded almost apologetic, which did nothing for Frodo in that moment.
"Look upinside me?" the Hobbit almost squeaked, utterly horrified and wishing he could simply sink through the table and into the floor beneath, never to be seen again.
"Do not fear, Frodo," Aragorn said, turning back and smiling at his thoroughly embarrassed patient. "I will not hurt you."
Frodo said nothing to that, feeling unable to dignify the words with a polite answer.
Aragorn reached over to a small table that Frodo only now noticed and chose an implement that Frodo did not wish to have inside him in the least. It was rounded at one end and hinged and for a long moment he simply stared at it, trying to discern its part in all of this.
"I will use this speculum to completely open your vagina so that I may inspect both it and your cervix. This will allow me to check for anything I have missed—do not look so afraid, Frodo. I assure you it is quite all right."
Frodo gulped and stared wide-eyed at the device, but nodded his understanding as Aragorn prepared it with lubricant. When he had finished, the King turned back to his patient, the instrument poised to enter the Hobbit.
"I will use my fingers to open your vaginal lips, much as I did earlier," Aragorn explained. "Then I will insert this into you and use it to stretch you for my examination. You will need to relax the walls of your vagina for me, and as your hymen is unbroken, the procedure may be more uncomfortable than it would normally be for a woman."
Frodo nodded almost mechanically, not finding any of this new information the least bit reassuring. Upon feeling Aragorn's fingers beginning to spread the lips of his opening, he lost all thought of relaxation and flinched away, trying in vain to close his legs.
"Relax, Frodo. You must keep your bottom flat against the table, your thighs spread. The faster I can begin," Aragorn added encouragingly, "the faster I can finish."
Frodo let out a shaky sigh and let his entire body go limp. He felt the fingers opening him once more and the cold, slippery press of the device at his opening. For all of Aragorn's soft words, nothing quite prepared him for the feeling of the device as it was pushed inside him, all hard metal lines, nor the sharp pain when the hymen was stretched and broken. He dropped his head back with a soft gasp, wishing the entire thing to simply be over.
"Shhh, you're doing fine…"
There was another span of interminable moments before the device was in, and he began to feel the pressure against his insides as the two halves were slowly pushed apart. He could not suppress a whimper as the discomfort slowly grew. The relentless stretching and the feeling of cool air on newly exposed, sensitive tissues made him realize that he must be spread wide indeed.
"It's all right," Aragorn murmured, beginning to hum softly as he pulled a light over and leaned in close to Frodo's private parts. He peered into the enlarged birth passage, intently studying the view provided by the speculum and making the Hobbit feel utterly naked, stripped of dignity, and completely mortified—again. Frodo felt the hot sting of tears prick his eyes as he lay there, so vulnerable and so acutely aware of his exposure.
When Aragorn spoke, it was in a vague way, as if his concentration were more on the examination itself than what he was saying. "The walls of your vagina appear perfectly normal . . . a nice, healthy pink, with no signs of inflammation. Though," he added after another moment's examining during which Frodo attempted not to squirm due to sheer discomfort, "there is a good bit of mucus discharge being produced and pooling at the bottom, making it a little difficult to adequately examine the opening of your cervix. I must clear some away so that I may get a better look."
Feeling strangely unsurprised at this newest tear at his dignity, Frodo simply nodded and watched as Aragorn turned to retrieve something from the table beside him. When he turned back, the Hobbit saw that he was holding a paddle that was obviously meant to assist Aragorn in the task of clearing away the discharge. He felt a stab of irritation as Aragorn once again urged him to relax as he leaned forward and began to guide the paddle inside.
Immediately Frodo tensed, the foreign feel of the object entering him unpleasant and the metal instrument holding him open made even more so by his clenching muscles.
"Breathe, Frodo. Relax your vaginal muscles for me. Tightening them will only make the speculum more painful." Aragorn's voice was kind and sympathetic as he rested a hand lightly on the Hobbit's thigh in reassurance. "It will be over quickly."
"I'm all right," Frodo said after several moments, during which he took in several deep lungfuls of air and told his body sternly to relax.
Aragorn resumed the insertion of the paddle, speaking all the while. "Very good, Frodo. Now that it is inside you, I will proceed to scrape away the discharge. You may feel some discomfort as I scrape at the back of your vagina, but I promise there will be no real pain."
Frodo nodded, feeling utterly incapable of speech as Aragorn began the procedure.The feeling of the paddle inside of him was altogether as uncomfortable as he'd thought it to be. It moved against his cervix in a sweep that prickled strangely, making him whimper as it moved.
"It's all right," came Aragorn's gentle voice again. "We are almost there, Frodo. One more time."
Frodo endured the scrape of the wooden paddle once more, and then sighed in relief as it was withdrawn. The relief was short-lived as Aragorn leaned back in to continue the scrutiny, his view of Frodo's cervix now unobscured.
The Hobbit now made a point of staring at the stone ceiling above him, steadfastly refusing to glance down his own body to see the dark head between his legs so intently examininghis insides. The sound of the King's voice floated to him, once again resuming that strangely distracted cadence as he murmured over what he saw there.
"Your cervix is perfectly normal for this stage of pregnancy—tightly closed, and with no sign of any irregularities." As Aragorn spoke, Frodo felt the device shift inside him and waited for several long, agonizing moments for Aragorn to complete what the Hobbit was quickly beginning to label as a new kind of torture. But Aragorn seemed content with looking for a bit longer before he finally spoke again.
"Now I will guide this out of you slowly, Frodo, so that I may observe the upper and lower vaginal walls as I do so. Keep yourself relaxed …"
Temporary relief gripped Frodo as the instrument was slowly withdrawn—much too slowly for Frodo's taste---a very odd sensation that was far less uncomfortable than when it was going in. But relief gave way once again to embarrassment as the device left his body with a very audible suck.
"There we go," Aragorn said, seeming not to have heard the noise or—Frodo realized—choosing to ignore it to try and preserve some of his patient's thoroughly shredded dignity.
Frodo felt Aragorn withdraw finally frombetween his thighs and forced himself to look at the human as he spoke once more. It wasn't quite the words of closing and dismissal the Hobbit had hoped for.
"Everything looks fine, Frodo. The rather excessive amounts of discharge are quite common during pregnancy. Though," he added thoughtfully, "you might perhaps wish to use a cloth at regular intervals to clean yourself."
Feeling it impossible to become any more mortified, Frodo listened with a slightly shocked expression as Aragorn spoke. There were things like "might have some spotting for a day or two" and "may wish to refrain from vaginal penetration in the last weeks of your pregnancy," all of which made him feel even more battered and violated. "In summation," the King finished, "you and the babe are both quite well."
Frodo let out a shaking breath, thinking his ordeal over and attempting to scramble out of the stirrups that held his feet and into a sitting position. But to his dismay, Aragorn rose and stayed his movements. "What else is there?" he asked, almost desperately.
"I wish to check your breasts, that is all. To ensure that you are preparing in all ways for the birth. This is the final part of the exam," Aragorn reassured the now distraught-looking Hobbit gently. "I promise, Frodo."
Unhappily, Frodo let his gown fall fully open as Aragorn requested, exposing his swollen belly and equally swollen breasts. Aragorn's large hands explored each one separately, pressing and squeezing, making the Hobbit yelp as his over-sensitive and sore nipples were touched.
Whatever Aragorn discerned from his manhandling of Frodo seemed to please him, for he murmured a soft "Ah, yes. Perfect," as he finished.
"Is that all?" Frodo had never been so anxious to flee Aragorn's company in all the time he'd known him and at his friend's nod, he nearly fell off the table trying to get down once his feet were freed.
"However," Aragorn stayed his movements with the words, "I wish to see you back here for weekly checkups."
This was too much for the poor Hobbit, who burst into tears, deciding that Lothlorien would freeze before he ever let Sam touch him again.