FIC: ECHO OF THE GLADDEN FIELDS 16/? 
 
Author: Lily Baggins 
 
PAIRINGS: Frodo/Aragorn 
 
RATING: NC-17 violence, Angst, h/c, 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, or whoever has the rights now, and I only give them  
interesting---and usually unpleasant---ways to spend their time.  
 
As usual, I'm messing with canon and taking some mighty creative  
license. Things happen here that definitely did NOT happen in the  
book or the movie--- I'm sure Tolkien would lock me up in Barad-dur  
and throw away the key if he read this. 
 
Feedback: Sure. Archiving: Iffin you wanna.  
 
*** 
 
"There," Aragorn said, enjoying the feel of the small body snugly  
ensconced within his arms. "Are you warmer now?" 
 
 
"Much more comfortable, yes, thank you," Frodo murmured, "but I find  
I'm still a bit chilled, having gotten wet from the rain and all."  
 
 
Concerned, Aragorn gently opened Frodo's waistcoat, unbuttoning the  
hobbit's weskit and loosening his suspenders. Untucking Frodo's  
shirt, the ranger unbuttoned it also and slipped his hands inside to  
rub the soft bare flesh and warm it up--only to be met with a nice  
cold coat of mithril mail. He sighed.  
 
 
"You do wear too many layers of clothing, little one. It *is*  
frustrating, I must confess." 
 
 
Frodo smirked but said nothing.  
 
 
Lifting his hands up inside the mithril mail, Aragorn remembered that  
Frodo also wore a thin leather shirt under that to protect his skin  
from the hard metal. He shook his head, loosening the leather shirt  
and slipping his hands under it, rubbing Frodo's back briskly and  
ignoring the blue eyes gazing at him from only inches away.  
 
 
Sighing, Frodo closed his eyes and relaxed, simply enjoying the feel  
of the large warm hands. He had been growing drowsy but now found  
himself becoming quite aroused. To his chagrin, his sleepiness was  
disappearing.  
 
 
Aragorn noticed immediately, feeling the hobbit's erection pressing  
against his stomach. "I think maybe I'd better stop this," the ranger  
told him gently. "Or we're both going to regret it."  
 
 
"I'm sorry, Aragorn, I didn't mean to . . ." His face worried, Frodo  
tried to pull away from the ranger.  
 
 
"No, Frodo . . . that's not what I meant. I mean that I hate to start  
something we won't be able to finish . . . we cannot, uh, accomplish  
much in this boat. Remember what Haldir and the others told  
us: `They are wayward if mishandled,'" he smiled slightly, "much  
like hobbits." 
 
 
"Hobbits?" Frodo asked in mock indignation.  
 
 
"Yes." Aragorn raised a hand and brushed back Frodo's still rain- 
soaked curls, his eyes roaming the hobbit's moist face and lips. "You  
hobbits are quite incorrigible. That is why I plan to . . . handle  
you well, the boat be damned." Gently he arched Frodo's head back and  
pressed his lips to the hobbit's wet neck.  
 
 
In Legolas's boat, the elf was drying Sam off and covering him in a  
nest of warm blankets while Gimli sat half-dozing in the bow. The  
dwarf was startled to alertness, however, at the distinct emanations  
coming from Aragorn and Frodo's boat nearby. Namely, what surely  
sounded like a hobbit giggle. Most assuredly, Gimli thought to  
himself, a hobbit giggle. Suddenly, the noise came again.  
 
 
"What are those two up to?" the dwarf growled, irritated. "They're  
certainly making enough noise. If an Enemy should come upon us, I  
doubt they would have a difficult time locating the Ring-bearer."  
 
 
Legolas coughed. "Likely, Aragorn is telling his story to Frodo about  
the riders of the Rohirrim again." 
 
 
"Aye," Gimli agreed, "that must indeed be it." 
 
 
Meanwhile Aragorn had moved his lips from Frodo's neck to his  
delicately pointed ears, then pulled the hobbit close to him and  
tasted the sweetness of Frodo's mouth. The dewy lips parted slightly  
and the ranger grew bolder, slipping his tongue between the hobbit's  
teeth and exploring the moistness within.  
 
 
Frodo moaned slightly at the sensation and pressed harder against the  
ranger, his knee curving to grind into Aragorn's groin.  
 
 
At this, Aragorn pulled away abruptly, his breathing heavy, his  
member throbbing almost painfully. 
 
 
"Aragorn . . . what's wrong? What did I do?" the hobbit asked,  
puzzled once again. It seemed he was constantly causing the ranger to  
pull away from him.  
 
 
"Nothing, Frodo . . . but we must . . . we must stop. Before this  
gets to be more . . . painful."  
 
 
Frodo understood and nodded slightly. "Perhaps someday . . ." he  
said, trailing off, his eyes full of disappointment.  
 
 
"Yes . . . someday." Aragorn's voice betrayed exactly how he felt at  
waiting for . . . someday. He gazed into the blue eyes so close to  
his own, and before either of them could stop it, their lips had  
found one another's once again, and caution was thrown to the wind.  
 
 
Aragorn pulled his hands from under Frodo's leather shirt and focused  
on the hobbit's trouser buttons, unfastening them one by one as Frodo  
wriggled from the sensation.  
 
 
Stopping, the ranger looked at him, concerned. "Frodo . . . am I  
moving too fast?" 
 
 
"No, Aragorn . . . not at all. I'm simply . . . overwhelmed at the  
sensation, if you will." As if to prove it, he took a deep breath and  
let it out slowly.  
 
 
"I know," the ranger whispered. Finishing with Frodo's breeches,  
Aragorn slipped both hands into them, avoiding Frodo's penis but  
instead cupping his hands around the hobbit's bare backside and hips,  
kneading.  
 
 
"Aragorn . . ." Frodo moaned softly, thrusting his hips a bit at the  
sensation. 
 
 
"Easy, Frodo . . . let us take it slowly." 
 
 
Closing his eyes and temporarily unable to speak, Frodo simply  
nodded, trying not to move too much and upset the boat.  
 
 
Moving his attention from Frodo's face and looking down, Aragorn  
eased Frodo's erect member out, smiling as the hobbit groaned, biting  
his lips, at the feel of Aragorn's large bare hand wrapped around his  
length.  
 
 
Aragorn found that although Frodo was well-endowed for his size, the  
ranger's hand fit nicely around the hobbit's small penis, leaving the  
rosy tip just peeking out. With a firm stroke, Aragorn moved his hand  
up and down the shaft, just once, before stopping, moving his eyes  
back to Frodo's face and enjoying the look he saw there. Frodo's eyes  
were closed, his lips parted, as he breathed rapidly, obviously lost  
in the sensation. 
 
 
With another stroke, Aragorn watched as Frodo's hips came forward in  
response and the hobbit groaned, a bit of wetness glistening at the  
tip of his arousal. The ranger paused, prolonging Frodo's feeling of  
pleasure.  
 
 
"Don't . . . stop . . ." the hobbit begged. "Please." 
 
 
Aragorn chuckled. Wetting his hand with the dew on Frodo's penis, he  
moved his hand down to gently cup the small sac under the hobbit's  
member, gently massaging the area there and in the creases of Frodo's  
thighs. Frodo groaned and, snuggling up closer to Aragorn, buried his  
face in the ranger's shoulder to keep himself from crying out as  
Aragorn's hand continued to work its magic.  
 
 
The man's hand moved back down for another stroke, listening to the  
hobbit's ragged intake of breath as he did. He did this several  
times, then, just when Frodo was close to the edge, stopped and  
gently circled the head of Frodo's penis with his thumb---just a  
feather touch.  
 
 
"Aragorn . . . Elbereth . . . finish it . . . I can't stand  
anymore . . ." 
 
 
Much amused, Aragorn firmly enclosed Frodo's member again and pumped  
with long, firm strokes. Frodo had both his arms around the ranger's  
neck, grunting with each movement as his hips bucked in response.  
 
 
"Frodo . . . I would use my mouth if I could do that here in this  
tightly cramped space," the ranger said softly. 
 
 
The thought of it sent Frodo careening over the edge, and he moaned  
as he climaxed with a violent shudder, small fingers digging into  
Aragorn's neck. Aragorn felt the jerk and the hobbit's seed as it  
spilled out onto his tunic and over his hand. 
 
 
A moment passed, and still Frodo's head was buried in Aragorn's  
shoulder, his breathing rapid. Slowly, he pulled away to look at the  
ranger with shining blue eyes. Not speaking a word, Frodo leaned  
forward and captured the ranger's lips with his own before pulling  
away. 
 
"Now, Aragorn, it is your turn." 
 
 
The ranger's lips curved up in a smile. "I am waiting, Frodo . . .  
very impatiently, I might add." 
 
 
"I think I may need to move down some, to reach . . ." the hobbit  
said. 
 
 
"Yes," Aragorn replied, his voice gruff. He moved on his elbow a bit,  
shifting, to allow Frodo more access. 
 
 
Frodo scooted down a bit and rubbed the ranger's erection through the  
cloth before working to unfasten the lacings to Aragorn's breeches.  
While Frodo was trying to concentrate on this task, Aragorn bent over  
to kiss the hobbit's face . . . his hair . . . whatever part he could  
reach. 
 
 
The hands finally had the laces undone, and Aragorn thought for a  
moment he might come at the first feel of Frodo's fingers on his  
bared member. He groaned softly, reaching out for Frodo, but as he  
did, the hobbit scooted down further out of his immediate reach and  
was gazing raptly at the ranger's erection. Frodo admitted to himself  
that he was, quite frankly, a bit obsessed with the size of it. It  
was just very fascinating---much wider and longer than Frodo might  
have imagined and soft to the touch.  
 
 
Frodo wondered how best to pleasure Aragorn, since one of his hands  
was injured and the other---as he had known it would be---too small  
to wrap around the ranger's erection. He needed two hands to do this  
properly, and so the hobbit lay thinking for a minute about the most  
logical course of action to take.  
 
 
So it was, then, that to Aragorn's extreme surprise and near undoing,  
he felt Frodo's warm mouth enclose the head of his penis.  
 
 
Caught off guard at the sheer unbelievable pleasure of it, Aragorn  
arched his back and moved to allow Frodo easier access. But as he  
did, he rolled a bit too far---upsetting the wayward Elven boat. The  
canoe dipped too far to one side and dumped Aragorn unceremoniously  
into the river.  
 
 
The boat immediately righted itself, and Frodo jumped up as quickly  
as he could, trying to set his clothing to rights and lifting the  
hide cover to peer about. "Aragorn? Aragorn!" he shouted.  
 
 
But the ranger was in no danger---the water was extremely shallow,  
and Aragorn, after staying in the water long enough to put his now  
shriveled-from-the-cold penis back in his breeches, was wading back  
to the boat, dripping with water, an irate expression on his face and  
cursing under his breath.  
 
 
He turned and saw the others peeping out of their boats, their eyes  
wide, and ignored them.  
 
 
"Aragorn, remember what the elves told us," Boromir reminded. "These  
boats are crafty and wayward if mishandled. I would not advise  
attempting to sleep in one again." 
 
 
"Yes, Boromir, you are quite right." The ranger's voice was short,  
and he avoided looking at Legolas's eyes, which were full of  
amusement, as he climbed back in the boat with Frodo, giving the  
hobbit a mock glare. 
 
 
"It is dry out now, Aragorn," Boromir observed. "I say we pick up the  
pace again and resume our traveling. Soon, it will be nightfall, and  
navigating this area of the river after dark is not safe." 
 
 
Aragorn sighed. "Yes, we must be off again, I agree. Come, let us  
continue." And so they untied their boats and set off back down the  
river---four hobbits, an elf, a man of Gondor, a dwarf, and one very  
frustrated ranger.  
 
 
Frodo was looking down at his feet as he sat in the middle of the  
boat, trying to keep a straight face, but finally he turned back to  
Aragorn behind him.  
 
 
"I'm sorry, Aragorn, truly . . . I never meant for that to happen.  
Else I would not have . . . well, you know."  
 
 
"Yes, I know---you had good intentions. I told you you were  
incorrigible." He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment at the brief  
memory of Frodo's mouth on his member. It was unfortunate---he felt  
himself growing aroused again. "Please, let us not speak of it again-
- 
-just the memory of it is . . . painful."  
 
 
"If it makes you feel any better, Aragorn, I find myself quite  
relaxed at the moment, thanks to you." Frodo yawned. "And a bit  
drowsy. That was quite an illuminating experience." 
 
 
"I'm glad, little one. It is fortunate one of us is . . . relaxed." 
 
 
Frodo was about to say something more, but his eyes widened in  
concern when he saw the ranger was shivering as if chilled.  
 
 
"Aragorn, you must dry off somewhere---you're soaking wet."  
 
 
The ranger looked down at himself. "It is of no consequence, Frodo--- 
my clothes will dry soon enough. Unfortunately, we are not in a  
position for me to take them off. Nor are we likely to be soon." 
 
 
"A shame."  
 
 
"Yes. Perhaps . . . that someday we were talking about." 
 
 
"Yes."  
 
 
Both were silent, and Frodo felt himself growing quite sleepy. Soon,  
he curled up in the canoe and dozed, memories of lying there with  
Aragorn foremost in his mind.  
 
To be continued