Title: Temptation (7/?)

Author: RavenWolf

Rating: R

Pairings: L/B and F/A

Disclaimers: As if I owned these beauties.

Summary: Frodo and Aragorn break out of their emotional deadlock.

A/N: Dedicated to Bunny, Lily, Claudia, and everyone else who ever reviewed this story.

It is times like these I wish I were an elf instead of a hobbit. Legolas seems to always know exactly what he is talking about, and now is no exception. Thanks to him, I feel even more lost and confused, and on top of that, guilty for not having shared my feelings with Aragorn. And for letting him suffer from not knowing how I feel. In hindsight, the way he has been feeling is all too clear.

How can I be so selfish? I couldn't even see him through my own problems. Now extenuating circumstances (and Legolas) have forced me to confront myself on this matter, and to admit that I really can't go on pretending that nothing has happened.

Because something has. I've fallen in love with Aragorn. And it's not just the Ring talking. Blinding as day, the truth overtook me sometime during my talk with Legolas. I love him. I love him cleanly, purely, without reservations. It can't be the cunning manipulations of the Ring doing this to me. That would feel...dirty. But this...I know that it is alright.

For me, anyway. But what about him? He has Arwen...And he is a Man. He told me that his feelings for me ran deep...That at least, is encouraging. But what happens when this quest ends? What will happen if by some miracle, I survive this? What then? Somehow, I can't picture him riding off to the Shire with me. His destiny lies in Minas Tirith. Among his own people.

My doubts weigh me down again. But I am comforted when his strong arms lift me gently to his chest. I can hear his heartbeat.

A soft sigh leaves my lips. He is warm...His shirt rubs against my cheek. It smells like him, smoky and earthy. I try to squirm closer to him without arousing his suspicion. I feel myself growing aroused.

I blink myself out of my stupor. And find him looking down at me with a strange look in his eyes. As soon as I've noticed his attention, he looks up and continues walking. I have the feeling this is going to be a very uncomfortable trip. For both of us, if I'm not mistaken.

I shift in his arms. They're so strong and firm...I bet his skin is soft. His hands are calloused, though, from wielding a sword. And I remember how scruffy his face feels from the last time we kissed. But I bet his skin is soft where it covers his chest and his arms. And...certain other parts...

That kind of thinking is not going to help me. Yesterday, I was sick enough that I was able to fall asleep in Legolas's arms. But today, circumstances have combined in order to make it impossible to do anything but wonder how Aragorn would look all sweaty and aglow with passion.

***

I spent most of the day in a sort of stupor. Lost in my thoughts, fueled by the feel of Aragorn around me, I'm almost surprised when we come to a halt for the day.

Aragorn sets me down and then smoothes his hand over my brow. He frowns. "You still have a bit of a fever. I'm going to brew you some tea to see if we can't bring it down." I like the feel of his hand against my skin. I must have a fever, because I tell him so.

"Your hand feels so good," I say, and lean into it. He looks a bit surprised, and something else flickers behind grey eyes before he leaves to go brew the tea. Legolas and Boromir are unpacking over near a log. Legolas catches my eye for a moment.

I'm shivering. It feels suddenly cold out. Even though I can practically feel the heat radiating from my skin. I blink, and find that my eyes were closed. Where is Aragorn? This isn't good. I'm not feeling so well anymore...

I press myself back against a log, and pull my cloak tightly around me. Cold. So cold. Where is...where is he?

A moment later, he returns. I let myself relax. "Frodo? Frodo!"

I jerk myself up. I look up at him through bleary eyes. "What?" I ask. Probably too meanly. But I can't help it. What I really want is for him to lay down with me and share his delicious warmth, but since I know I won't ask, I'm being a bit grouchy.

He hands me a steaming mug, and I remember that he was gone for a reason. Tea. I breathe the steam in deeply, and feel it saturate my lungs with warmth. It's strongly flavored, but not as disgusting as some of the other...remedies Aragorn has cooked up.

"Thank you." I say with as much courtesy as I can muster.

"Anytime, Frodo." He says softly, and reaches his hand out to my forehead again. Presumably to check my temperature.

He looks worried for a moment. I look at him with concern, and he gives me a strained smile, and sits down beside me.

A sudden wish for sleep comes over me. I stare into my mug. Must have been something in the tea...

As I slump down against Aragorn, I can't help but think that I got my wish. And he is so very warm... I press myself closer to the surprised ranger and entwine my hands in his cloak. I smile gently as the familiar musky scent of him reaches me. The smile does not leave my face even after I fall asleep.

***

I wake suddenly. The night around me is quiet, with the exception of the occasional chirping cricket and the sound of the wind blowing through the trees. It takes me a moment to get my bearings, as my head is still muzzy with sleep and fever. It is then that I realize that I am not alone. There is a large, warm body pressed up against me. One arm is slung across me, loosely and possessively.

I smile softly. Aragorn would be embarrassed if he knew what he'd done in his sleep. I shift slightly next to him. I don't want to wake him up, and I know that he's a light sleeper. His mouth is moving slightly in his sleep, almost as if he's trying to say something. No words emerge, though, and he moves slightly, pulling me closer.

His soft breath tickles me, warm against my skin. I snuggle up against him, taking advantage of the circumstances. My head falls to the hollow of his neck. I gently kiss the patch of skin there. I really can't help it. He is just so...sexy. Yes. That's a good word for it. He shifts, and his hand comes to rest on my behind. Mmmm...

Parts of me begin to stir. I wonder briefly if I am dreaming again, some fantasy brought on by fever and shrouded by sleep. But then he mutters something that turns me cold.

"Arwen..." I freeze. My entire body stiffens, and I try to move away. Arwen? Arwen?!? I find the strength to be outraged and hurt in equal parts. Of course, though. What was I thinking? Arwen is his betrothed. He...loves her. As he does not love me.

Tears are gathering in my eyes and I'm berating myself for being so emotional. It wasn't anything I didn't already know... But then he continues speaking. "So sorry...didn't mean to...love him...Love Frodo, Arwen..." He moans and I find myself pressed up against him again. Though not against my will.

I frown as I try to puzzle out what it means. He said that he was sorry. He told Arwen that he was sorry. But most importantly, he said that he loved me. What does that mean? Should I take it seriously? Or is it just some strange dream that has nothing to do with real life?

Something else is nagging at me. Something in the back of my brain. I've forgotten it...wait! He called me his 'love' before. When I was so sick after being shot. Surely this means something. Surely it matters that he's made reference to loving me twice now. Unwittingly or no. I'm beginning to think that Legolas was right. In the morning, I think, I will talk to him.

***

When I wake up again, it is daylight, and Aragorn is gone. I roll onto my side, sleepily blinking myself awake. The place where he had lain is still warm. I open my eyes fully to see that most of the fellowship is assembled around the cooking fire, eating their breakfasts. Aragorn included. I smile at the memory of finding his arm around me in the night. It chases away the phantom darkness at the edge of my thoughts. To think, just a simple memory, the best weapon I've got against my illness and the lure of the Ring.

Well, maybe not the best weapon. Aragorn comes and sits beside me again, bringing me breakfast. I remember thinking last night that we needed to talk. A nervous glance around our camp tells me that maybe I should wait. Aragorn tends to walk behind the rest of the fellowship, to keep an eye on things, so I figure that I will have a chance to speak with him then.

"How are you feeling this morning, Frodo?" He places his hand on my forehead in what I think has become an automatic response for him. See Frodo, check temperature. Not that I entirely mind. As I've said before, his touch seems to comfort and soothe me.

I clear my throat. "Better." He looks at me suspiciously, but takes his hand away.

***

We are close to Lorien now. We should arrive by the end of the day. As the rest of the fellowship packs up our bedrolls, I think about what I want to say to him. So far, I've got 'I care about you very much. So much, in fact, that I think I may love you. But it's okay, because I know that you've got Arwen back home, and I don't mean to intrude...But see, I heard you saying something about loving me, several times now, and I was just wondering if that was a fluke or if you actually do feel that strongly about me.' I close my eyes briefly. Well, not exactly my most eloquent speech. Playing it over in my head makes me notice exactly how needy I come off. Which is pretty appropriate, since needy is how I feel. But what if it annoys him?

He shoulders his pack and comes to where I'm struggling to stand. Still weak from fever, I suppose. It's abated somewhat since yesterday, but I can still feel the slow burn working inside me.

He gives me an easy smile and then picks me up easily off the ground. I'm tempted to just snuggle back into his arms and forget about everything. It wouldn't be hard to do, and that's why it's so inviting.

But no. I promised myself. I promised Legolas. And I owe it to Aragorn to tell him the truth.

I wait for a bit before realizing that there's no reason. I'm reasonably sure that no one can hear us now, and if they could, they wouldn't be interested. Unless they were a certain elf.

His steady heartbeat next to my ear calms and soothes me. It will be alright. I know it with a certainty that takes my breath away. As long as he is here beside me, it will be alright.

"Aragorn," I whisper, my lips a bit cracked from fever. He looks down at me in surprise. I think he thought I was asleep. As if. "Aragorn," I repeat. "We need to talk."

A cloud passes quickly over his face. I know that he probably doesn't want to have this conversation. Not now, not ever. "Are you sure you want to talk now? Maybe later..."

"No," I say firmly. "I want to talk now." He seems a bit surprised at my own resolve. Frankly, I am too. And to think I didn't want to do this a mere ten minutes ago.

He looks vaguely uncomfortable. He's waiting for me to start. This looks like it will be a very uncomfortable conversation. From what I know of him, Aragorn doesn't like to open up and share his feelings. Which only serves to make my job doubly hard.

"Aragorn? Do you...do you love me?" I wince as soon as the words are out of my mouth. Exactly the sort of thing not to say. He looks taken aback and surprised. I close my eyes and quietly hope that when I open them, we will be in a bed somewhere, maybe Rivendell, making love.

Alas, my daydream is not to be. When I finally gather the courage to look up at him, he's still staring at me with that strange mix of confusion and...is that want? "Because...because you've said it before. When I was sick...you called me your love. And last night, in your sleep, you whispered..." I'm monitoring the expressions on his face, but they flit across so fast I can't really decipher what he's feeling. Oh, why did I have to keep talking? I feel myself start to blush.

"Frodo..." He starts to say, as if to chastise me for foolish behavior. But before I can get angry, he seems to stop himself. "I don't know what I feel, Frodo. I think...I think I do love you."

All the breath leaves my body in a whoosh. I never expected him to confirm it. Never. And yet...he has. For a moment, all my thoughts disappear, leaving only that one sentence behind. 'I think I love you.'

Startled grey eyes look into mine, and I think that his expression of love surprised him just as much as it did me. He regains his composure after a second, and looks up. "Thank you," I finally whisper, so quietly that I can barely hear myself. But he hears me, and stops to look at me with passion and caring in his eyes.

"For what, little one?" He asks, genuinely confused. I smile at him. There are a hundred answers to that question, and I do not know what to say to him.

"For loving me," I finally say. "For caring about me. For being honest with me. For taking my mind off my burden. Thank you."

"You are welcome, Frodo." I shiver. The tone in his voice is gruff and yet so tender and caring...I've never heard him speak like that. Even when he once spoke to me of Arwen.

We reach the borders of Lorien without speaking another word to each other.