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Aragorn glanced at the wall clock in his chamber yet again. He
sighed with impatience. A thundering rain rattled against the
windows. Where was that hobbit? That morning Frodo had set off
for the nearest village outside the gates of Minas Tirith. He
had been asked to talk to the children at a local schoolhouse
about his experience in Mordor. He had looked forward to it.
Aragorn felt a surge of affection for him. Frodo made it his
mission to make certain that nobody ever forgot how close they
had come to darkness.
Frodo had said he'd be home an hour earlier. Well, the rain had
no doubt delayed him. Aragorn sighed. He hadn't seen it rain
this hard in months.
He had glanced again at the clock when Frodo burst into the
room, soaked and shivering. Aragorn let out a sigh of relief.
Frodo's cloak dripped, leaving a puddle around his hairy feet.
His little hands were pink with cold. Aragorn stood to greet
him. "I was beginning to get worried!"
"I am sorry, Aragorn," Frodo said, peeling off his sopping
cloak. His jacket and trousers were splashed with mud. "As you
can see, I was delayed."
"You need not have made the trip in this weather. The children
would have understood. How was the pony?"
"He rode beautifully. Didn't complain about the rain at all. He
did get stuck in the mud just outside the city gates. A kind
soldier helped me pull him out. I was about to despair! That's
why I'm so dirty."
"Did you get the name of the soldier?"
"Yes. His name is Roron. I thanked him profusely."
"I will reward him with extra leave this year," Aragorn said
with a smile. He helped Frodo out of his cloak and wet jacket.
Frodo breathed over the food, enclosed in silver covers. "It
smells delicious. I'm so glad you waited for me."
"I nearly sent it back to the kitchen, hobbit."
Frodo's eyebrows shot up as he lifted the silver covers off the
dishes. He smiled in delight. "Oh, no you don't! What a
beautiful spread. And wine, too. Is it a special occasion?"
Aragorn smiled at him. It seemed that lately he only really
smiled when he was around Frodo. "Don't you remember? Ten years
ago today we met at the Prancing Pony."
"Oh!" Frodo blushed. His smile lit his blue eyes. "So it was."
"Come, Frodo, change out of those wet clothes." Aragorn said. "I
won't have you catching your death of cold."
"Yes, I will," Frodo said. "I smell quite putrid from the mud."
Aragorn was struck by how beautiful and youthful Frodo still
looked. Technically he was over sixty, but he still looked like
a hobbit just out of his tweens. Even though the Ring had been
destroyed, he had not aged dramatically. With the exception of
the wretched anniversary illnesses he suffered from as a result
of the toil with the Ring, he was in perfect health.
Aragorn looked back with affection on the past nine years with
Frodo. He had never regretted his decision to ask Frodo to stay
with him. He had loved Frodo from the moment he had laid eyes
on him in Bree. He had become quickly enamored of his
expressive sapphire eyes, his lyrical laugh, his bravery, and
his determination. He would never forget the fierce ache in his
chest on Amon Hen when Frodo had left him to go to Mordor alone.
Many sleepless nights had followed, full of the agony of
uncertainty. He had had no way of knowing from day to day
whether Frodo still lived. When the eagles had brought Frodo
and Sam back, battered but alive, he had thought his heart would
burst with gladness. Frodo had survived, and Aragorn had given
up the continuation of a new line of kings. He had mild regret
about that last, but he would not give up Frodo, even for a
hundred heirs.
Frodo returned to the table a fresh white shirt and new
trousers. "I'm ready to eat."
"Of course you are." Aragorn affectionately caressed his cheek.
He pulled Frodo to him and kissed him on his soft lips. "Let me
pour the wine."
Frodo pulled out of his embrace and sat in his chair. "I am
starving. I haven't eaten all day."
"That's quite a plight for a hobbit." Aragorn poured the wine
into goblets. "Why ever not? Did they not serve you lunch at
the schoolhouse?"
"Yes, but I felt sick all morning. I think something I ate last
night didn't agree with me. Or perhaps it was nerves, though I
don't usually get nervous talking in front of people."
"I'm glad you're feeling better now."
Aragorn tried to hide his concern. Frodo did look more pale than
usual, but Aragorn had learned from experience that Frodo hated
to be fussed over.
"So how was it?" Aragorn asked, serving Frodo and then himself
some of the delicious rice and meat dish.
"It was wonderful," Frodo said. "The children were very
interested. The schoolmaster was very kind. He gave me the best
seat he could find and had the children gather around me. I felt
big and important. They were especially fascinated about hearing
about my finger. That's always what fascinates the children the
most. They were adorable, the little ones were."
Frodo held out his hand so that his stub was in view. Aragorn
took Frodo's hand in his and kissed the stub.
"How was your day?" Frodo asked.
"It was relatively calm today. It looks like the emissaries
from Dunland will be arriving tomorrow. Which reminds me—would
you be able to help me?"
"Certainly," Frodo said. "What would you have me do?"
"In between sessions of council, I will need to speak to some of
the men individually. I would appreciate it—and I know this will
bore you to tears—if you could wait in the council and when it
ends, you could lead the men to eat, chat with them, charm them
the best you can. I'm going to need all the help I can to win
these men over. They are not pleased with the terms of the
kingdom as of now."
Frodo gave Aragorn a wry smile as he nibbled on a piece of
bread. "You want me to charm a group of men who are determined
to dislike you?"
"If anyone can do it, you can," Aragorn said. "But if you really
don't want to do it—"
"Of course I'll do it. I just find it rather amusing. Whatever
will I talk to them about?"
Aragorn placed a hand over Frodo's maimed hand. "You can show
them your stub."
Frodo laughed and pulled his hand away. Aragorn poured more
wine into his goblet. He stood and beckoned Frodo to the
loveseat. "We'll be more comfortable over here."
Frodo joined him and leaned against him, curling against his
chest. Aragorn reveled in the feel of Frodo's silky hair. He
thoroughly enjoyed evenings like this. After a long day, to
escape to his chamber and spend a peaceful evening with the one
he loved was the sweetest reward for his toils.
END