TITLE: A Middle-earth Mary Sue Tragedy 3/?

AUTHOR: Lily Baggins

RATING: R (likely won't be more than PG-13, but I want to be on the safe side. Some mild profanity . . . sexual suggestion, but no sex.)

Disclaimers. The usual. I make no money off of this and do not own these characters, much to my chagrin. They belong to Tolkien Enterprises and New Line Productions, and I only give them interesting---and usually unpleasant---ways to spend their time

Summary: I was coerced into this. The author makes a disgraceful Mary Sue.

Note: There may be some slashy overtones in some of this, as it's from my point of view as a writer of slash. However---there will be NO actual slash or sex between any of the characters (including, sniff sniff, myself).

**There may be descriptions of bodily functions in certain chapters---please don't read if it squicks you.

*Thank you to Febobe for some great sick-Frodo inspiration here. :)

***

Frodo sneezed not ONCE, but twice, people.

Hearing the noise, I jerked my head up so fast I was afraid I'd get whiplash---was he wiping his nose? Yes, indeed he was. I ignored the fact that watching someone wiping his nose is not the most appetizing lunch pastime. Understand---this was FRODO wiping his nose. Everything he did was adorable---I would even watch him clean out his ears if I got a chance to. Shoot---I would pay good money to do it for him! Touching just one pointed ear would be the highlight of my year, indeed . . . now, was he catching a chill?

I listened for another sneeze. Everyone sneezes in pairs---at least *I* do---and that could indicate merely reacting to some dust in the air. But if he sneezed AGAIN---that might mean something insidious. Bad strains of bacteria or viruses trying to invade his delicate nasal passages. Yes, a third sneeze would surely bring Aragorn running over to make certain Frodo was sound in mind and body. And if I was lucky, who knew which of Frodo's orifices our ranger would peek at.

However, at the moment no one else was making much of it.

AND THEN . . . HE SNEEZED AGAIN.

Gandalf looked in his direction and spoke. "I think you may be catching a cold, Frodo. Do you feel all right?"

The hobbit nodded. "Just a bit of a headache, is all."

A HEADACHE! Oh, how I longed to go and feel his brow. Of course I had NO IDEA how hot or cold a hobbit should feel . . . but I was willing to be trained . . . and then I wondered what his skin would actually feel like to the touch---it looked so very creamy. Yes, I would caress his brow, and then hold him snugly . . .

Aragorn, his face creased in concern---oh what a sight to behold---approached Frodo and lay one of his big, strong hands on the hobbit's delicate face. This was getting good, and I settled back to watch appreciatively.

"Hmmmm . . . you feel just a bit warm, Frodo. Not very, however. Likely a small chill."

I KNEW it! I knew it . . . but just a BIT warm? Was Aragorn a healer or wasn't he? Couldn't he see Frodo was susceptible to such things and needed IMMEDIATE preventive care? Lots of cuddling . . . medicine . . . resting his head upon my bosoms?

The next words caused me to nearly have an apoplexy.

"Open your mouth, Frodo, and let's see your throat . . ." Sighing, the hobbit complied, and Aragorn knelt, taking Frodo's chin in one hand and tilting his head back as the ranger leaned *very* close and peered down past those wide-open pink pouty beauties into the moist darkness of the hobbit's throat.

I watched, stupefied, my eyes beginning to glaze over, I am sure . . . my pulse revving up like the engine on a 1971 souped-up Chevy Chevelle . . .

"Hmmmm . . . your throat does look rather red, Frodo . . . how long have you had a headache?"

Frodo shrugged a bit as Aragorn let go of his face. "I'm not certain . . . since . . . yesterday . . ." He trailed off, but I saw those big blue eyes dart my way for a moment in trepidation before he continued. "About the time I walked up on Lily, I suspect . . . it began pounding after that incident."

Aragorn stood, nodding. "Yes, sometimes fear will enable illnesses to take hold," he said with a glance at me. At that moment I considered jumping into the chasm nearest me, but only the fact that most Mary Sues' objects of their affection warm up to them kept me from doing so. That, and wanting to watch this scene continue to play out. What if Frodo got sicker? I didn't wish it on him, but what if he did? And Aragorn had to hold him . . . pat him . . . RUB him? OH God, please let me see that, I prayed. Better yet, yet me have a go at it. PLEASE PLEASE.

The ranger continued. "When we can light a fire next I shall give you something for your throat. In the meantime, try to avert your eyes from her and tell me immediately if you start to feel worse."

Frodo nodded and Aragorn stood, looking at all of us and directing a particularly unkind glance at me. I'm sure he still thought I had designs on THE MOST ADORABLE ONE---which I did---but he would never know.

Gandalf grunted. "Hmmm . . . well then, let us get moving again, shall we? We should not tarry here too long."


AFTER MANY MORE HOURS OF MARCHING IN SILENCE IN THE DARKNESS OF MORIA

As we marched, I spent the next several hours trying to get a glimpse of Frodo's pale porcelain complexion for any signs of encroaching pinkness. But alas, I couldn't see him very well most of the time.

I did not like Moria, I must confess, and wished a thousand times over I'd been dropped into the book post-Barrow-downs just as the hobbits were running naked through the grass. THAT would have been memorable. Or even dropped in Rivendell while Frodo lay ill from his Morgul stabbing. I would have at least found out where his room was and hid out on the balcony, spying on him through the window until an Elven archer shot me full of arrows.

We now seemed to be going downward---the cold was quickly being replaced by hot, warm air, and I felt myself start to sweat and my shorts and underwear sticking to my rear. I'd probably frighten Frodo again if I wasn't careful.

Which brings me to my current subject. How did the Fellowship cope with wearing the same underwear day after day? I'd not changed underwear in oh, I suppose a more than a day now, and it was driving me crazy. I felt itchy and hot and sweaty all over, and really, quite unfresh. The only saving grace was that 1) none of the Fellowship would be SEEING my underwear, and 2) If I was killed by Orcs, they certainly wouldn't give a flip about my hygiene.

OH GOD. What if I developed a yeast infection or something here from wearing these same old clothes day in and day out? My mother used to warn me about wearing nylon underwear---she always said it didn't "breathe" properly. I was wearing nylon shorts. I'd never had to use such drugstore items before, but oh, how hideous would a world without Monistat-7 and the like be at such a time? And I could never tell the others---I would have to steal some of Aragorn's athelas leaves, roll them up, and tuck them up there, hoping that took care of the problem. I shuddered to think of it.

Far in front of me, Pippin was squirming as we walked. "It's hot," he muttered, quite irritated.

"Let us stop a moment and have a bit of water," Gandalf said, turning around. "Sparingly, now---we cannot touch the water in these mines. It is not safe."

As we halted, I grabbed the cloth Aragorn had given me earlier out of my pocket and wiped my face with it. My hair felt truly ick, despite still being pulled back in a ponytail. But I dared not take it down---I would look like a greasy drowned rat if I did. No---I had not been blessed with lustrous, curly hair that never seemed to get greasy and always had plenty of bounce to it . . .

Speaking of . . . said owner of such hair was now removing his green cloak, wiping his own sweat-soaked brow with his hand. "It is rather uncomfortable here," he said to Sam. "I would give up my entire inheritance from Bilbo right now for just a simple dip in a lake."

Ah . . . I had sudden visions of Frodo naked, dripping wet . . . then listened to the rest of their conversation.

"Yes indeed, sir," Sam replied. "Why don't you take your coat off, Mr. Frodo? You are looking a bit flushed, beggin' your pardon, sir."

"A fine idea, Sam---I believe I will."

Oh dear. Frodo was going to start removing his clothing. I know, I know---just a coat and his cloak, but nevertheless, I found it getting rather a lot hotter all of a sudden.

To be continued