Chapter 5

Frodo fastened the last button on his braces and Aragorn held his weskit while he slid in his arms. Settling in a chair at the other side of the empty hearth, the hobbit tried to regain control of himself.

In the month since the coronation either Aragorn or Aldern had examined him every week. If he was honest, Frodo preferred it when the Master Healer undertook the intimate and delicate task. The still-young hobbit found it difficult to withhold his blushes when his friend performed the examination, even though Aragorn's behaviour was as professional in every way as that of Aldern. It felt too personal, somehow, when someone he knew so well touched him.

These examinations had become more embarrassing as time went on and Frodo had squeaked in alarm and tried to squirm away today when he had felt Aragorn insert a gentle finger into a newly formed opening in his lower regions that no male hobbit should have.

Now he brushed away a tear and clasped his hands somewhat nervously in his lap, before looking across at the King expectantly.

"Is everything alright?"

Aragorn settled back in his chair. "I can hear the child's heartbeat now and it sounds strong and steady."

Frodo glanced down at his still flat abdomen and swallowed. A heartbeat. The babe was still so tiny that it did not even swell his belly and yet it had a heartbeat. No . . . he corrected himself . . . "he" had a heartbeat. He smiled and placed a hand upon his stomach, wishing that he too could hear or feel that beat.

"And what of me?" he asked, nervously. "Aragorn, how will I birth this child?"

His friend frowned and shook his head in wonder. "It would seem that your body is taking care of that. You felt it earlier. You appear to be growing a birth canal. Aldern and I have no idea what is happening inside but there is definitely a passage forming. Even if there were not, however, there are ways to extract the child if necessary."

Frodo swallowed hard. He had heard of such procedures but in the Shire they had only been performed if the mother was no longer breathing. He tried to distract himself from such thoughts.

"What is causing this strange metallic taste in my mouth all the time?"

Aragorn chuckled. "That one had me bothered until Master Aldern consulted with one of the midwifes attending the Houses of Healing. Apparently, that taste is common in those who are with child. It will pass within a few weeks, along with the lethargy and nausea you have also been experiencing."

The mere mention of the word, "nausea" made Frodo's stomach roll and he swallowed determinedly. He wished he knew why everyone referred to it as morning sickness for he seemed to suffer it at all hours of the day, only gaining relief when he slept . . . which was all too often in his opinion. It had reached the point where he was afraid to sit still for too long for he would suddenly find himself being roused by Sam some time later, having dozed off.

Sam had even joked about it. "I reckon you could sleep on a clothes line, Mr Frodo."

"Unfortunately, the emotional swings will continue," Aragorn added and Frodo felt himself colouring once more.

The weather had been somewhat sultry of late and the King had arrived in the middle of a thunderstorm this morning. He had entered Frodo's room, only to be nearly bowled over by the sudden attachment to his legs of a sobbing and trembling hobbit. It had taken him several heartbeats to realise that this was the same hobbit that had travelled with him stoically to Rivendell and on through Moria. Once the man had established that it was only the thunder that had so terrified Frodo he had gathered him up and sat upon the edge of the bed with him, rubbing his back until the storm, both without and within, had abated.

"I'm sorry," Frodo mumbled. "I don't know what came over me. I've never been frightened of storms before."

"I only wish that all your worries were solved as easily," the man replied.

Frodo stared into the empty grate of the hearth. If only. He let his hand rest upon his belly and rubbed his thumb across it unconsciously. There were so many worries.

He glanced down, past the slight swelling of his chest and wondered what he would look like in a few months time. Would he be sitting in this very chair, looking down at a large round belly? Would he be able to even see that belly for the breasts that he also appeared to be growing? What other changes would be wrought? Would there come a point where he would be afraid to leave the house? People would surely point and stare.

Would his body be able to nourish the child forming within it? Would Frodo survive the experience? How would he be delivered if he came to term and would Frodo be able to care for him afterwards? The two of them would need looking after. Where would they live? The Shire? He could imagine the talk in the Green Dragon if Frodo Baggins returned with a nursing child. He bit back a giggle. Mad Baggins indeed. Then he sobered.

The Ring had been wholly evil. Legolas had assured him that the babe was normal so what other punishment could the One Ring heap upon Frodo? He felt a strong rush of protectiveness wash through him for the innocent life he harboured.

"Aragorn, will you promise me something?"

The King inclined his dark head, the gold of his filet catching a warm shaft of sunlight that was now breaking through the clouds outside. "If it is within my power, Frodo. What do you wish me to promise?"

"If it comes to it . . . if it is one or the other . . . please promise that you will give him a chance. My time is past. I have been wounded by knife, sting and tooth and I know that I will never be as I was. He is new and whole, with the opportunity of a lifetime of happiness before him."

Aragorn reached out and laid his hand over Frodo's. "That decision may not be in my hands and . . . besides . . . this may be the opportunity of a new life for both of you. Perhaps that is why you have been given this gift."

Frodo shook his head. "The Ring would not be so kind."

"Gandalf says that there are many powers at work in this world and not all of them are evil." Warm fingers touched the hobbit's chin and lifted his face so that his eyes were caught and held by the King's.

"Elrond thought you had been chosen for the task of Ringbearer and I do not believe that he meant that you had been chosen by evil. You came through more suffering than anyone could have imagined possible. Many times you could have died and yet, each time, you were saved. I cannot believe that the power that has protected you thus far would abandon you now."

Something that had bound up Frodo's heart for so many weeks slowly melted away and he took a deep breath, smiling up into the kindly face before him. Perhaps all would be well, after all.

Suddenly the door opened behind him and Sam entered, carrying a large tray.

"Here we are. Luncheon. I've taken the liberty of preparing it for two because I overheard Mr Strider . . . er . . . His Majesty saying that he hadn't eaten yet today."

As he spoke he uncovered the tray to reveal all manner of goodies. The removal of the covering cloth, however, released the savoury smells too and two sets of concerned eyes flicked to Frodo as he groaned and rose to leave hurriedly.

Aragorn chuckled. "I hope you have some plain crackers on that tray Sam. I do not think that our parent-to-be is quite up to sausages and cabbage at the moment."

"Oh yes, sir. There's always plain crackers on the tray nowadays . . . although I keep hoping. It's not right for a hobbit not to eat."

Aragorn merely helped himself to a plate. "I shouldn't worry about it too much, Sam. I expect he'll soon be eating for two." The thought made him pause.

Eating for two hobbits? When would Frodo find the time for anything else?

TBC