Birthday fic for Lily Baggins!

[sophinisba]

The happiest of birthdays to our dearest lilybaggins, without whose help, encouragement, and generous willingness to share her kinks I might well never have written any fanfic or made any friends on LJ. I hope you are having a wonderful day and enjoying all the prezzies (I know I am!). Here is my rather tame contribution.

Title: Frodo's Pointed Ears
Author: Sophinisba Solis
Starring: Frodo and Aragorn. No sex or even nudity here (sorry!). Incidental implied Frodo/Faramir, Aragorn/Arwen.
Rating: PG
Beta: Many thanks to mews1945 for the fast but very thorough and perceptive beta job.
Embarrassed disclaimer: I so totally didn't write this! And even if I had, the characters wouldn't belong to me and I would have done it as something silly to share with a friend on her birthday, and wouldn't make money off it.
Warnings: Slight semi-medical ickiness involving ears and mouths. Some conventional post-Quest angst but combined with enough silliness that it shouldn't be too terribly upsetting.
A/N: For the incomparable lilybaggins who once commented in my journal that she enjoys seeing Aragorn explore all of Frodo's orifices. Happy birthday, Lily! If you want, you can think of this as a prequel to Not Here.



Sam walked with him to the Houses of Healing. Frodo felt a fool for needing a chaperon, but he was leaning hard enough on Sam along the way that he knew he shouldn't have made it on his own. In recent weeks, Frodo had spent more time with Faramir than with the other hobbits. But with Faramir there was still something like courtship in the way they interacted, and Frodo did his best to appear strong and confident in the man's presence (even with the implicit knowledge that his vulnerability was, well, fetching from Faramir's point of view). With Sam he'd leaned and stumbled and fallen so many times in the past that it was almost comfortable, easy by now. No destroying any pretense of independence, no worries that he might lose Sam's love, only friendship and support.

Sam asked the guard at the door for directions and walked with Frodo to the room where the king was waiting. Frodo protested yet again, that whatever was happening to him was surely not serious enough to merit distracting King Elessar from his official duties, that any healer might see to him. Aragorn only shook his head and said it was no trouble.

And Frodo, for all his guilt and all his embarrassment and despite the physical pain he was in, was still grateful to both his friends, and smiled a genuine smile.

"I'll just wait for you outside, then, sir, if there's nothing else you'll be needing."

"Thank you, Sam," Frodo said, half wishing Sam would stay with him rather than abandon him to Aragorn's kind concern. But Sam knew Frodo well enough now to know he preferred as few people around as possible when his own health was discussed or... investigated. Sam quietly slipped outside.

Frodo looked dubiously between the examining table, which was as high as his chest, and Aragorn's face, which was higher.

"I couldn't sit in a chair?" he half mumbled, knowing it wasn't an argument he would win.

"I believe this will be more comfortable for both of us, if I'm to examine you."

Frodo nodded. "I don't know that I can..." There was a stepping stool next to the table but that, like everything else, was designed for big people and would not be enough to let Frodo climb up on his own.

"Of course," said Aragorn, lifting Frodo gently to sit at one end of the table. They were at eye level then, and Frodo decided not to admit that he did indeed feel more comfortable now that he was not craning his neck to speak to his friend.

"Faramir said you fell down a flight of stairs yesterday."

One of those ridiculous flights of stairs that that were all over the streets of the city carved into the mountain, so that he had been in a public place when it happened. Along with Faramir and two Guards of the Citadel there had been a crowd of strangers watching. Frodo had lost his balance halfway down the steps and hadn't been able to stop himself from tumbling down to the bottom.

He was flexible, resilient, and accustomed to falls, and he hadn't suffered more than a few slight bruises, which he didn't plan on showing off to Aragorn today. Still, he'd been too shocked and embarrassed to get up at first, too disoriented to answer when Faramir rushed to help him and asked if he was all right, too dizzy to even attempt to walk back to the house the hobbits shared. Faramir had carried him through the streets and had discussed the incident with Sam as they helped him into bed.

Frodo had tried to tell them he was only tired and needed to lie down for a bit to recover, but Sam was having none of that. While had Faramir fretted in the parlor, Sam stayed and eventually got Frodo to confess that, though all his other hurts from the journey had gradually faded and healed, the trouble with his ear had only gotten worse. Sam had repeated the information to Faramir, who had in turn alerted Aragorn, so that by the time Frodo woke from his nap it had already been arranged for him to visit the Houses of Healing, to sit on this very table and to be seen by the king himself.

"When did you first notice it?" Aragorn asked him.

"Notice what?"

"Any of it. The pain, the hearing loss, the dizziness. Was there an injury along your journey that could have caused it? A fall, perhaps, a blow to the head?"

"I couldn't say," Frodo said, hanging his head and noticing that the sound of blood rushing in his ears was suddenly the loudest thing in the room, and it was hard to make out Aragorn's next words.

"I don't understand, Frodo."

Blood rushing, and then the pain was back strong and the room was spinning again. Frodo closed his eyes and clenched his teeth, hoping it would pass quickly this time. But he was lost, probably falling, and he waited for the blow of impact.

Somehow, it didn't come. When Frodo opened his eyes, the room still seemed to be spinning, but at least he knew where he was. He was lying on his back on the table, his legs still dangling off the edge. Aragorn was rubbing lightly at his arms and peering into his eyes. Aragorn must have caught Frodo as he fell back, for there was no pain in his back or the back of his head, only the insistent ache in his ear, punctuated with each heartbeat.

"A dizzy spell?" Aragorn asked.

Frodo nodded weakly.

"Is it passed now?"

"I -- mostly, I think so." Frodo was still trying to catch his breath and it was difficult to speak. "I'd rather not sit up yet. I'm sorry."

"Do not be," Aragorn said gently, still rubbing his arms with a touch that Frodo found grounding. "Part of the reason I wanted you to sit up here was so that you would be able to lie back if it came upon you."

Frodo nodded again, embarrassed at having complained. Of course Aragorn was only thinking of Frodo's best interests, and Frodo was making things difficult, despite his earlier assertion that he did not want to cause trouble.

Being dependent on Aragorn as he was now brought back memories that Frodo usually tried not to examine too closely. There was always the knowledge, of course, that Aragorn had helped tend to Frodo in those first weeks after the ordeal. He remembered nothing from that time and preferred not to speak of it with others, but he did occasionally let his thoughts dwell on what it must have been like. For Frodo awoke from that deep sleep calm and clean and almost content. There was pain, of course, as there had to be, and at times a vague kind of doubt; but these feelings were usually overwhelmed by the shock of having survived, the joy at seeing the Quest achieved and being reunited with his friends.

Only later, as the surprise wore off, did he begin to wonder. Someone had cleaned and bandaged his hand, and how much would they have guessed of its story, of his story?

Moreover, from what he saw of the healers' work among wounded the soldiers and from the relatively fresh sensations in his own body after he awoke, he could make guesses. He knew he had had nourishment coaxed down his throat and that at times he must have spit it up like a babe. He knew he must have been bathed and he wondered with what mix of disgust, pity, and curiosity his helpers had looked at his wasted body. He supposed they had also manipulated his limbs as he slept to simulate walking and other movements, had rubbed him all over to encourage the flow of blood.

He asked himself over and over again: Whose hands? Whose eyes?

He knew it was ridiculous to be embarrassed over such a thing, and the knowledge only compounded his feeling of foolishness. Why couldn't he just be an adult about it, realize that an injured hobbit could be cared for by friends and healers while recovering, and that there was no shame in it? Why couldn't he be grateful?

"Frodo?" Aragorn sounded concerned, as though he'd spoken the name several times.

"Yes, I'm sorry?"

"I asked how often this happens. You didn't quite lose consciousness just now, and Faramir says that you didn't yesterday, but how often do these spells come upon you?"

"I hear the ringing in my ears every day, almost all the time, though sometimes it's louder and sometimes I barely notice it anymore. The dizziness too. I mean to say, it's light, I'd gotten used to it. If I'm with my friends, in the house, I can usually just sit down and wait a few moments for it to pass. It was foolish to go out for that walk with Faramir yesterday. But there hadn't been anything so strong for days. I thought perhaps the fresh air and the... the company would lift my spirits."

"It was not foolish," Aragorn said, and Frodo felt a rush of relief to hear it. "You were right to think the light exercise and fresh air would help, especially for your sense of balance. However, it was dangerous not to share what was going on with your companions. Faramir would have known to support you, or to keep you away from the stairs, if you'd told him."

Frodo could think of no answer to this. He nodded dumbly, not wanting to meet Aragorn's eyes.

"Really, Frodo, it's as if you were afraid to be looked at or touched. And haven't the healers and I been gentle tending to your other hurts? Hasn't it helped?"

"Oh, Aragorn, of course. You've all been wonderful and I don't mean to seem ungrateful. It's just that I hate to cause trouble, you know, and I..." -- say it, Frodo -- "I always think I must look strange, to you Big People. We hobbits are so different anyway, and since... since the Quest I'm much worse than I was, so thin and so... torn up -- "

"Frodo," said Aragorn with a smile, "surely you cannot think that any of us find you displeasing to look at. The young people of the city talk constantly of the beauty and the bravery of the halflings, but above all they speak of you. Faramir is as one under a spell; he cannot believe he is fortunate enough to have not only your forgiveness for the way he and his men treated you, but to have your favor as well."

Frodo's face felt warm and he supposed he was blushing, but the feeling was not altogether unpleasant. It was good to hear that Faramir was as happy about their relationship as he was.

"Come, Frodo, will you let me take a look?"

"Of course." Frodo tried not to tense as he felt Aragorn's finger touching outside of his right ear. There was no real problem there, only on the inside. Still, he felt sensitive, felt the pulsing inside so strong he thought it must be perceptible to Aragorn as well.

"I'm using a mirror to focus the light of another lens to help me see better," Aragorn said, "but I won't be sticking anything inside your ear. You shouldn't feel any pain from it."

Frodo simply hummed his assent, for fear speaking or nodding might disturb the observation. After a few moments Aragorn set down his tools and asked, "Has there been blood or wax or pus coming out, perhaps at night?"

"A little bit, some nights," he confirmed. "I tried laying a handkerchief under it when I went to bed so as not to stain the pillowcases, but I do tend to move around in my sleep, so it didn't do much good."

"Stained pillowcases are the least of our concerns, Frodo. We care much more for your health and comfort."

"Everyone's been so kind," said Frodo, not wanting to admit that he'd tried not to stain the linens mainly so that no one else would know about the problem.

"Everyone wants to give you the kindness and attention you deserve," said Aragorn. "As for the physical differences between halflings and Big Folk," he continued, "you have nothing to be ashamed of there either. Your ears, for instance" -- and here Frodo felt the soft touch again, nothing more than a finger tracing around the edge -- "your ears are quite beautiful, much more so than ours. The way they come to this delicate point at the top... They've always reminded me of the Elves, in fact."

While Frodo had heard the comparison before, hearing it from Aragorn's lips, and with those lips so very close to Frodo's ear, brought to him for the first time the thought that Aragorn must kiss Queen Arwen's ears. More than that -- and once the idea came to him he believed it with complete and utter certainty -- made love to them with his mouth. It was not only a fact in Frodo's mind then but a clear picture of Aragorn's lips and teeth tugging at the lobe, sucking the eartip that he was now comparing to Frodo's own. Aragorn's tongue exploring all the hollows and ridges of her outer ear, then probing slightly inward. It was surely not a scene he should be thinking about between his king and queen, but Frodo was fascinated, and unable to stop himself from imagining what this must feel like for the Elf. Furthermore, he could not keep from wondering how she reacted to such sensations.

"Frodo, what is it?" Aragorn sounded alarmed; he had stopped touching Frodo's ear and had a hand at Frodo's back to support him.

"What?"

"Your face is red and hot, even to the tips of your ears. Is it the dizziness again? Are you in pain?"

"Oh! I... No, no more than usual. I suppose it's only..." Whatever Arwen's responses to Aragorn's attentions to her ears or anywhere else, she most certainly would never blush as fiercely as Frodo was blushing now.

"Your pulse is racing, Frodo. Can you tell me what's wrong?"

Frodo looked down. "It's a bit embarrassing, you know. I'm not used to having someone pay so much attention to my..." He paused, hoping that Aragorn would let the matter go. Aragorn, of course, waited patiently, never taking his eyes off Frodo. "...Or to looking so closely, or touching my..." Another pause, and Frodo thought to himself that Aragorn was really just stubborn, more than dignified or courteous. "...Ears," he finished finally.

Aragorn asked, "Did Sam not take care of you when the two of you were journeying alone?"

Frodo felt this as a slight against Sam, and in his annoyance he found he was able to meet Aragorn's gaze again. "Well, he had all he could do to keep me alive and sane, after all. There wasn't much time for either of us to worry about earaches."

"Or taking care of your teeth."

Frodo tongued the loose and aching molar that he hadn't yet mentioned to anyone but Sam. Had Sam gone and told Aragorn about that too? Was the discomfort so obvious that he hadn't needed to? Or was Aragorn thinking of the general state of both hobbits' mouths? Were they quite repulsive? If the King of Gondor put his fingers in Frodo's mouth, Frodo really would die of embarrassment.

"We weren't even eating," he offered somewhat sulkily. "We weren't thinking about it much."

"You could have kept them clean and spared yourselves the pain later on."

"But we barely had water to drink!"

"Your health is important, Frodo."

"Oh, really!" Frodo would not stand for this any longer. Would not sit for it, that is. He pulled his feet up and stood on the strange, high table, so that for the first time in his memory he was now actually looking down at Aragorn.

"King Elessar," he said in a loud, clear voice, "we had other matters to attend to!"

"So you did, Ring-bearer," Aragorn answered soberly. "My intention was not to offend you or to criticize Sam. Indeed, I do not believe any other two creatures in Middle-earth would have been able to carry out the task you did. No one else had your strength of will and Sam's pure devotion. Never think that I do not honor you for what you accomplished."

Frodo felt that the atmosphere has become overly solemn now and he regretted the act of standing up on the table, especially as it occurred to him that, should the dizziness return now, he might have quite far to fall. Even without that, how to respond in kind to such a speech? "I thank you, Aragorn," he said stiffly. "I... I just wanted to make sure we were clear on that, you understand."

"Of course."

Frodo took a breath. "Right then," he said, and sat down again. And, feeling that Aragorn was still waiting for him to say something, he thought back to the earlier questions. "You asked when I first noticed, and I honestly don't know."

"It was before you came to Minas Tirith though?"

"I believe so," he said, and hesitated again. "In the end it was quite desperate, you know. Everything hurt, and I wasn't truly aware of what was going on around me. So I can't say whether my ears hurt or whether I had difficulty hearing. Do you understand?"

Aragorn nodded gravely.

"And afterwards, it wasn't that I meant to keep anything from you or the healers. I just... it didn't seem important enough to bother anyone, when others' injuries were so much worse and I was happy enough to be alive. Has it made it worse that I didn't come to you sooner? I am sorry, Aragorn."

"Frodo, my dear friend," Aragorn said, wrapping his arms around him. And Frodo ceased to worry about whether he had acted wrong or whether he looked foolish, and relaxed into the warm embrace. "I am not angry with you, Frodo, and you must not blame yourself either." They pulled apart enough that they could see each other's faces, though Aragorn kept a hand on Frodo's shoulder. Aragorn said, "I believe you must have suffered some injury along your way that caused your eardrum to break. I shudder to think that you could have had other suffering severe enough to keep you from noticing it, for it is known to be extremely painful. Nothing that has happened was your fault, and I don't believe it's actually become more serious for lack of attention in these last weeks. I only say you should have spoken sooner because if you had we might have saved you some pain. I do honor you for the task you have accomplished, as does everyone, but now that it is over you must allow others to take care of you."

"I do, Aragorn."

"Well, you must be more open with us then, and more willing to take our advice."

"I will." He paused, slightly nervous again. "What is it you advise?" he asked, fearing invasive procedures and more uncontrollable thoughts about Aragorn's attentions to Arwen's pointed ears.

"As I said, the injury is already passed. Although you are still in pain, your body is slowly healing on its own. But now that we know about it we will make you more comfortable. I will speak to Sam and your cousins, and to Faramir as well. You must have much rest, and your friends can bring you everything you need -- plenty of fluids, soups and teas, cooked vegetables, much like what you ate in the first weeks after you were brought back to us. I'll give you more of the tea you took in those first weeks to ease the pain, and a hot compress held against your ear will help as well. We cannot put any medicine inside your ear" -- Frodo breathed a sigh of relief at this -- "because of the perforation, but there are some oils that can go on the outside and on your neck to ease the pain. I'll speak to Sam of the details. Does all that sound acceptable?"

Frodo nodded. "Must I go back to spending all day in bed?"

"Certainly not. You must try not to exert yourself too much without rest, but as I said before, some movement is important to keep your blood flowing the right way, and walking will help your sense of balance, which is hindered by the problem in your ear. I do insist, however, that you stay away from stairs and, more importantly, that you allow your friends to walk with you and to support you when there is need."

"Yes. Of course. No, normally I do, you know, it's just -- "

Aragorn smiled. "Surely you realize, Frodo, that Faramir will be happy to have an excuse to walk closer to you, and with his arms around you, ready to catch you should you fall, ready to carry you should you tire."

"I suppose so," said Frodo, shyly smiling back.

"Anyone would be happy to, really. Come, put your arms around my neck and I'll get you down from this table." Frodo did so, and was happy to feel Aragorn's arms around him in turn, supporting and comforting him. "All shall be well again," Aragorn said softly in Frodo's ear as he lifted him up. "This wound will heal as have the others, and the people who love you will help you get through it."

And Frodo held on tight, and smiled, for he knew it was true.



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