THIA: Look, Caraís feeling down. You did it for Adrienne.
ARWEN: Is this blackmail?
THIA: No, blackmail
would be if I threatened to publish certain facts about Frodo to people heíd rather didnít know them. Like, for example --
FRODO: No examples!
ARWEN: Ah. So this is
ARAGORN: Not quite yet, it isnít.
SAM: Which Cara did you mean, maíam?
SAM: ...Frodo? For Cara Loup?
FRODO, with a sigh and a glare at THIA: All right. But only
because itís Cara Loup. Not because of any threats whatsoever.
THIA: Yeah, yeah, whatever. Your courtesy is greatly appreciated, Iím sure. Roll fic!
FIC: WAS IT GOOD?
SAM: Was what good?
ARWEN: Was it good enough to deserve all capital letters?
THIA: You havenít even read the story yet.
ARAGORN: I know the pairing. I agree with the Ringbearer: no.
FRODO: Ringbearer? I refuse to answer to that.
ARAGORN: Itís what you Ė
ARWEN: Donít be ridiculous, beloved. Unless you want him to go about always calling you King Elessar the Elfstone.
ARAGORN: Donít you start.
THIA: Oh, boy, this is going to be a fun one...
SAM: Should be short, at least.
THIA: For these gifts, oh Eru, we give you thanks.
AUTHOR: Lily Baggins
FRODO: I donít remember any Baggins by that name.
SAM: You can always disown her later, sir.
THIA: It suits a certain skewed kind of aesthetics, Iím told.
ARWEN: No, no, I can certainly understand why anyone would fall in love with my Estel Ė
FRODO: Really? Why?
ARAGORN: Excuse me!
ARWEN: Because heís kind and brave and beautiful... all right, I think heís beautiful.
SAM: Youíre married to him, lady. Iíd hope you think heís beautiful.
FRODO: Itís not his fault heís much too tall. Or that hobbit priorities run rather to the Ďcan he cookí side of things.
ARAGORN: I can cook!
SAM: Gandalf says you lived on cram for months at a time.
THIA: Ding! Round one over. Round two to commence shortly.
ARWEN: Not if I can help it.
THIA: Apparently you canít.
ARWEN: Watch me.
SETTING: With the Fellowship after leaving Rivendell. Part humor.
ARAGORN: Dare I ask what the other part is?
DISCLAIMER. The usual. I make no money off of this and do not own these characters, much to my chagrin.
FRODO: Excellent. I approve.
THIA: Of what? The chagrin, or the not-owning?
ARWEN: Both. It shows a healthy sense of shame.
THIA: You know, maybe I should have asked Merry and Pippin to be the riffers. Or Legolas and Gimli.
ARWEN: Iím not going to hurt Estel for what happens in a mere story. Much.
They belong to Tolkien Enterprises, or whoever has the rights now, and I only give them interesting---and often unpleasant---ways to spend their time.
ARAGORN: At least sheís honest about how human/hobbit truly is.
ARWEN: How would you know?
THIA: Round two narrowly averted!
SAM: If she knows theyíre Ďunpleasantí, whyíd she do them?
THIA: Because she finds it interesting, Sam. Pay attention.
FRODO: The last time I heard that line of logic, I was attempting to explain to Lotho Sackville-Baggins why he shouldnít pull wings off of flies.
FRODO: Certainly! Would you prefer the ĎGandalfís fireworksí version of feedback, or the more straightforward ĎAll Souls bonfireí version of feedback?
ARWEN: My father knows some wonderful things about slow fire that he learned during the Last Alliance.
THIA: No no no Ė see, first we read the story, then we fantasize about torturing the author.
SAM: Itís a pre-emptive strike, like.
THIA: Oh, help.
ARAGORN: Ah, a scene break. Can we go now?
THIA: No. Stop being such a baby.
Four hobbits lay curled up on their sides, wrapped snuggly in blankets, around the campfire. Two were vainly trying to sleep, but the howl of Wargs in the distance made them uneasy.
FRODO, singing: Four in a bed and the little one said, roll over! Roll over!
THIA: Wrong scene Ė that was the Prancing Pony.
SAM: It does sound right like a counting rhyme, almost.
ARWEN: And if it doesnít, it raises the question of what the other two hobbits were doing that they werenít made uneasy by Warg-howls. Besides the possibly obvious.
ARAGORN: I thought I was the pervy hobbit fancier in this relationship, love. Er, theoretically.
THIA: Aragorn, do the words ĎFrying Pan of Doomí not strike proper terror into your heart?
SAM: Donít worry, maíam. Iíll make sure they do.
ARAGORN: I said theoretically.
Legolas, Gimli, and Gandalf were already asleep in the shadows beyond the campfire.
ARWEN: Elves donít sleep, thankyouverymuch.
THIA: Our first hint that mind-altering drugs were probably involved in some form.
Several feet away, Aragorn sat leaning against a tree and puffed on his pipe, keeping watch. Every so often, his eyes would stray to the campfire and he would study the four small beings huddled thereó especially Frodo.
ARAGORN: Wait a moment Ė the four hobbits, Legolas, Gimli, Gandalf, myself... whereís Boromir?
THIA: Gone to take a leak?
ARAGORN: And Iím not even keeping an eye out for his return?
THIA: Look, the author knows Boromir will turn out to be a psychotic git, so she figured he was no great loss if he dropped out early.
ARAGORN: Excuse me! Boromir was a great man!
FRODO: You know, I thought Legolas was exaggerating when he said you went all whiny over Boromir. My mistake.
ARAGORN: I do not whine.
Every since he had met the hobbit in Bree,
SAM: How many sinces has it been?
Frodo had stirred something in the ranger.
ARAGORN: Appetite. After so many years of cram, hobbit cooking was a revelation.
ARWEN: Appetite. Is that what theyíre calling it now?
ARAGORN: Arwen, my love, youíre not being much help here.
ARWEN: You were the one who said you were a pervy hobbit fancier.
ARAGORN: I should never have let you read Cassie Claire.
At first, Aragorn had attributed it to simple protectiveness. But now, he had to admit, more than protectiveness stirred whenever he looked at Frodo. Those eyes, that youthful glow, the honesty and courage . . .
FRODO: Does this author remember I was 50? And rather looked it?
SAM: Not likely.
THIA: Damn you, Elijah Wood!
Aragorn could easily see himself falling hard for the hobbit.
ARWEN: And his fiancťe? You remember, the elf who gave up her immortality for the jerk?
SAM: Weíre not rightly sure, lady. That would mean attention to canon, like, and to character.
THIA: And to logic. But donít worry Ė it gets worse.
FRODO: It gets worse?
THIA: Oy, no hiding under your seat!
Now, said hobbit was watching the campfire, and Aragorn could just make out his face in the glow. He heard Frodo's soft sigh as he moved slightly, trying to find a comfortable position on the cold hard ground.
ARWEN: Is Frodo one of the hobbits kept awake by Warg howls, or is he awake on general principles?
THIA: So far as I can determine, heís awake strictly so Aragorn can perve on him.
SAM: Because a month and a half of camping ainít taught him nothing about falling asleep straight away. Specially not when heís got watch later on.
FRODO: Well, I did have those two months at Rivendell to spoil my conditioning.
ARAGORN: Not that way, it didnít. Iíve never seen anything that could fall asleep faster than a hobbit.
Aragorn's eyes traveled over the hobbit's blanket-swathed form, moving up to the soft lips and sleepy eyes framed by dark lashes, then he caught himself, remembering the Wargs, and with difficulty, turned his attention back to watching the dark woods beyond.
ARWEN, very sweetly: Yes, remember the Wargs? Those howls out there? The beasts that make even Gandalf nervous?
ARAGORN: Um. Thank you for that gentle reminder, love, but I did remember them.
THIA: ĎH is for Hildefons, etten by Wargs.í
FRODO: No more Gorleycrumb Tinies for you.
Frodo was doing his best to fall asleep, but to no avail, since Pippin was delighting in carrying on a conversation with Merry and would not be quiet.
ARWEN: Speaking of individuals who canít remember the Wargs.
FRODO: Poor Pippin. One rock tossed into a well, and heís forever typecast as the Village Idiot.
Frodo lay half listening to their whispers, feeling the soft breeze rustling his hair. Near the tree, Aragorn's sharp ears could pick up almost all of their conversation.
ARWEN: Ow. Whiplash.
ARAGORN: Because sometimes one point of view just isnít enough.
FRODO: Within the same paragraph?
THIA, as a TV announcer: Special now on Efficiency Fic! Why bother beginning new paragraphs when you can cram two, three, even four points of view into a single paragraph?
"Oh, come on, Merry, you remember that night at The Green Dragon, don't you? Merry?" Pippin asked.
THIA, as Merry: Which one?
FRODO: They didnít go that often. Being as Merry spent most of his time in Buckland, and Pippin most of his time in the Tookland.
ARAGORN: Didnít Thia say not to bring logic into this?
THIA: Besides, if you take little details like that into account, most of the Merry/Pippin stories out there fall apart.
"Pippin," said Merry tiredly, "I remember it only too well. And despite what you would have others believe, Rosemary Proudfoot was NOT sweet on you. You're dreaming."
ARAGORN: So, not only is Pippin telling stories youíve heard before --
SAM: Heís talkiní through his hat, is what heís doing.
ARWEN: Itís that obvious?
SAM: The Green Dragon is a pub, lady, not an inn. A Proudfoot lass wouldnít be caught there without scandal. And if she were there, well, it wasnít to find a lad to be sweet on, if you follow me.
THIA: More gratuitous blacking of Pippinís reputation. Oh joy.
Pippin grunted. "You choose what you want to believe, Merry. I had her in the palm of my hand.
ARAGORN: Thereís half his problem right there. Start with fingertips and work your way down to the palm.
ARWEN: Youíre enjoying this entirely too much, my love.
ARAGORN: I am not.
ARWEN: You are so.
And when we left that night she told me. . ."
ARAGORN: Am not.
ARWEN: Are so.
ARAGORN: Am not.
ARWEN: Are so.
THIA: Is anyone else frightened that the oldest riffers are behaving the most child-like?
FRODO: Iím trying not to think about it.
SAM: You could always threaten them with Balrog fic. If you got annoyed enough, I mean.
Frodo sighed. The talk had turned to hobbit maids, and that meant Pippin might go on chatting forever.
THIA: Because Pippinís sexual history is so much more interesting than the threat of possible death from those Wargs.
ARAGORN: Excuse me, but all accusations of pervy hobbit fancying aside, Peregrinís sexual history? Boring.
FRODO: Age seven through seventeen: lusted after Merry. Age seventeen through twenty-seven: lusted after Merry some more, only was less subtle about it.
THIA: Age twenty-eight: would have pounced, but Merry got distracted. Stupid Ring-quest.
Frodo considered moving further away, but knew he'd freeze without the warmth of the fire.
SAM: Wasnít that cold in Hollin.
ARAGORN: That didnít stop you and Frodo from wrapping around each other.
THIA: If youíd asked Gandalf nicely, he mightíve shared.
ARWEN: I did not need that mental image.
FRODO: Besides, Bilbo would have been horribly jealous when he found out.
Half sitting up and looking around, he caught sight of Sam lying wide awake, also apparently unable to sleep for the noise.
THIA: Oh, is Sam there too?
FRODO: Yes, heís the other hobbit actually listening to the possible threat.
ARAGORN: I was paying attention to the Wargs. Or would have been, had this actually happened, which it didnít.
Frodo then looked beyond the fire and saw Aragorn leaning against a nearby tree, still as a statue.
ARAGORN: Sitting right by the fire? Thatís an excellent way to ruin night-vision.
THIA: Well, she doesnít give an exact distance. You might be far enough away. If the author were bothering to worry about that kind of thing, which she isnít.
For a fleeting moment, the hobbit imagined sinking into the comfort and warmth of the ranger's arms.
FRODO: Strictly on the logistical level, heís standing up Ė no, wait, sorry, sitting up Ė and Iím lying down. If anyoneís going to sink, itíll have to be him.
THIA: What did you expect? The image of you trying to jump up into his arms is at best undignified.
SAM: We ainít seen a lot of dignity on display in this fic in any case, maíam.
Then he shook himself back to reality and lay back down, clutching his blankets tighter.
ARWEN: Is it my mistaken impression, or does Frodo read like, well...
THIA: A child?
ARWEN: Well, yes.
THIA: Of course not. Grown-up hobbits clutch their blankys all the time.
"Yes, Merry," Pippin was saying, "but don't you remember that one? She had the biggest . . ."
THIA, a la Monty Python: Vast tracts of land!
FRODO: Donít laugh. Did you ever see Diamond?
"Enough!" Frodo ordered, unable to take it anymore. "Pippin, please be quiet and go to sleep. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow. Much like all the days after that," he mumbled.
THIA: Oh, cry me a river.
FRODO: Since when was I the leader of the Quest? Even if Gandalfís still asleep, Aragornís awake.
SAM: Seems like this Strider has better things on his mind than tending to his duties.
Pippin pursed his lips and glared. "My, cousin Frodo is in a state tonight. With more of his gloomy talk."
SAM, as Pippin: Canít possibly think of a reason why Frodo might be upset. Not like heís risking his life to save Middle-earth or aught like that.
THIA: Sam, what have we said about applying logic to the fanfic?
He looked at Merry and grinned. "But we all know why Frodo doesn't want to talk about the hobbit maids, don't we?
FRODO: Because I, er, wasnít interested. Nothing to talk about.
SAM, a bit smug: Not much for the lads, either.
THIA: I donít see anything wrong with being Sam-sexual.
ARWEN, eyeing the hobbits curiously: What exactly does that involve?
He doesn't want to admit that he's . . . inexperienced in the ways of love and only finds company with his right hand."
SAM: I wouldnít say Ďinexperiencedí. And his right handís not bad.
Aragorn, watching for Wargs in the woods, had only been half listening to the hobbits' conversation.
THIA: And the author abruptly realizes that yes, Aragorn would be actually paying attention to the Wargs.
SAM, fingering his frying pan: As opposed to lusting after Mr. Frodo.
ARAGORN: Told you s-Ė um.
ARWEN: No, do finish that sentence, dear.
But THIS line of talk immediately got his attention. Whatever he might have imagined hobbits talking about around campfires, it surely wasn't . . . this.
FRODO: She does remember that this isnít his first trip with hobbits? We didnít miraculously fly over the distance between Bree and Rivendell.
THIA: Well, he did most of the talking on that trip.
And the idea of Frodo . . . doing such things to himself . . . well . . . Aragorn wasn't about to miss the rest of the conversation.
ARWEN: Are the Wargs still out there?
ARWEN: Just checking.
ARAGORN: Like you wouldnít have been listening.
ARWEN: Of course not.
THIA: Frodo, youíre still not allowed to hide under your seat.
Frodo, refusing to be baited, only rolled his eyes. "Well, my private life is certainly no business of yours, Peregrin Took.
ARAGORN: Wait a moment Ė did someone just display a bit of sense?
THIA: Enjoy it while it lasts.
ARAGORN: Youíre such a pessimist.
You think what you want to. Inexperienced, indeed. I wonder how experienced you are?"
FRODO: Shouldnít I be asking Merry this?
ARWEN: Apparently Peregrin is straight.
SAM: I thought the term was bisexual. Being as he got married and all.
ARAGORN: You would know.
FRODO: One more crack like that and --
THIA: Frodo, behave. Aragorn, one more crack like that and your grand entrance in Ringsbane involves tripping and falling off a mountain.
SAM, still rather red: Are you sure you canít involve a Balrog?
Pippin laughed. "We're talking about you, Frodo. Come on, admit it! You've never been with anyone before. Nobody cares.
SAM: Which is why youíre taunting him about it.
ARWEN: Of course.
Just be careful about spending so much time with your right hand in that field, you know---where you claim to spend so much time 'reading!' Your hand's likely to fall off some day."
THIA: Well, I suppose thatís a nice change from growing hair on the palms of your hands.
FRODO: Or going insane.
[Pointed silence from ARWEN.]
FRODO: As connected with masturbation. Ring-bearing and masturbation are not the same thing.
ARWEN: Ah. Of course.
FRODO: I need to have a talk with Peter Jackson.
SAM: And maybe a side trip to those lasses as write ĎBagEndersí, sir.
Frodo raised up on one elbow and glared at him. "I hardly think you're one to be throwing stones, my dear hobbit.
THIA: Do hobbits have the metaphor about glass houses?
FRODO: I remember reading stories about glass hills, but I donít think the author had hobbits in mind.
And in any case, how would you know what I do in the field?"
Pippin laughed. "The same way Bilbo and Sam know, Frodo. We all saw you." He giggled.
THIA: There are so many wrong places I could go with that.
ARAGORN: A few right ones as well, I suspect.
Frodo stared at him. "You're making that up, Pippin."
THIA: Pippin as fanfic writer!
FRODO: Better than Pippin as voyeur. Honestly, the questions that lad asked!
ARWEN: Well, donít keep us all in suspense. What did he ask?
"No, Frodo, remember that time a few years back when Merry broke his leg badly?" Pippin asked. "Sam and Bilbo and I came out to the field looking for you. And you were, uh, up in a tree. 'Up' in more ways than one, I might add."
FRODO: ĎTheí field. Thereís only one field in all of the Shire?
THIA: One that, contrary to the usual definition of fields, has trees.
ARAGORN: Perhaps she means that first image from the movie.
THIA: That? Was not a field. A grove, perhaps.
ARWEN: Why are we bickering over definitions and avoiding the matter of this paragraph?
FRODO: Because thatís just a trifling matter of logic and characterization Ė why exactly was I off somewhere else, by myself, while Merry and Pippin were both visiting, for begins. Especially off doing that when I know perfectly well that Merry is prone to popping up wherever I am without proper warning.
The visual picture that came to Aragorn's mind just then did nothing for his nerves.
THIA: Oh, poor ickle Aragorn. Iíll, um, take over the mental picturing. If itís a strain, I mean.
FRODO: Two words for you: ice bath.
THIA: Youíre no fun at all.
"I was reading in that tree, Pippin," Frodo was saying.
"The book was on the ground, Frodo."
FRODO, as himself: I was testing my vision!
THIA: I thought one of the, er, side effects was supposed to be going blind.
FRODO: Then testing my vision was all the more important, wasnít it?
"It had fallen and I was just about to climb down to grab it."
ARWEN: No ĎIíve fallen and I canít get upí jokes. Not even one.
"So that's what that gasping was about, Frodo? And the reason your breeches were completely open? And your hand was moving up and down?"
FRODO: Um. Iím sure there was a good explanation for all of that.
ARAGORN: Besides Pippin being a pervert.
SAM: We knew that. Itís an invasion of privacy, Iíd say.
THIA: Maybe he was testing Pippinís vision.
FRODO: ...can we not go there? Please?
ARWEN: Oh, come now. Whatís a twenty-two year age difference between friends?
THIA: Oh, thatís right, you have an age difference of a couple thousand years, donít you...
Pippin laughed. "We saw you, Frodo, and Bilbo didn't want to embarrass you, so we turned back and waited for you to climb down."
FRODO: But Pippin didnít care if he embarrassed me or not, apparently.
ARAGORN: And Sam just wanted to watch.
ARWEN: That Ďweí is rather vague, isnít it? We canít prove Sam didnít linger.
THIA: Sam, youíre not allowed to hide under the seats either.
Frodo kept staring at him, feeling a horrible heat creeping up into his cheeks.
ARAGORN: Tch. Too close to the fire.
FRODO: Iím not allowed to blush?
ARAGORN: I shall expect to see you blushing because of something said by your young cousin Ė your very much younger cousin Ė at approximately the same time as I shall expect to see the Sundering Sea part to allow the curious to stroll to Valinor.
THIA: Werenít you the one who said age difference didnít... oh, never mind.
He glanced at Merry, who looked very innocently back at him.
THIA: A terrifying sight in its own right, granted.
Then he glanced at Sam, but the younger hobbit, his face also burning, wouldn't meet his eyes. Sam coughed discreetly.
ARWEN: Ha. Told you so.
THIA: Why, exactly Ė for pityís sake, Sam was able to pass things off well enough at the time. Heís been able to meet Frodoís eyes for, what, seventeen years and some odd now. Whatís he blushing for now?
ARAGORN: Actually, Pippin said it was Ďa few years backí.
THIA: Ah. Movie-verse. Silly me.
SAM: And I wouldnít blush over something years back. Even something like that.
FRODO: You never have before.
SAM: Mr. Frodo, if you wonít let me do it, then you canít either.
THIA: Or you could both do it. If you mean what I think you mean by Ďití.
ARAGORN: And you say Iím a pervy hobbit fancier.
Pippin finally broke the silence. "Truly, it's not a big deal, cousin. We all do it. I do it. I'll admit it. I do it all the time. I even did it at the Midgewater Marshes, if you can believe that."
THIA: This? Is taking the 17-year-old-boy stereotype to extremes it really didnít need to go.
ARWEN: Thereís probably a joke here about scratching an itch, but I donít think Iíll lower myself to finding it.
Frodo's mouth gaped and his blue eyes widened. "At the Midgewater? Pippin, are you daft? You're lucky your member didn't get eaten off by gnats."
FRODO: Peregrin Took, Village Idiot, take two.
THIA: Thereís an even dirtier joke here about getting eaten, but --
SAM, interrupting: ĎTwasnít gnats as were biting us in Midgewater. ĎTwas midges.
THIA: You just donít want to hear my jokes.
FRODO: Now that you mention it.
THIA: See if I write smut for you any time soon.
Pippin grimaced. "Trust me, it almost did, Frodo."
ARWEN: Yet another mental image I do not particularly care to entertain.
The other three winced. Even Aragorn shuddered slightly.
THIA: What I want to know is, is Aragorn shuddering from sympathy or experience?
ARAGORN: I am most certainly not going to tell you.
"Although," Pippin went on, "I guess I haven't been as regular about it lately. When you were stabbed on Weathertop, all thoughts of desire just fled my mind, I was so worried.
ARAGORN: Peregrin Took, Village Idiot, take three.
FRODO: Although itís reassuring, in a way. If Pippin could have masturbated while I was lying there with a wraith-wound in my shoulder...
SAM: Donít know how he could do it even before then, begging your pardon. Heariní the Riders call back and forth, back in the Shire, had me fair shriveled in my breeches.
ARWEN: Ringwraiths as impromptu chastity device. Hmmm.
THIA: Aragorn, you wouldnít fit under the seats.
And in Rivendell . . . well, it almost seemed sacrilegious. Almost," he added with a grin.
ARWEN: I think the author has Rivendell confused with Winchester Cathedral.
THIA, as author: News flash Ė proximity to elves deadens the sex drive.
ARAGORN: No, it doesnít.
SAM: Not by half.
So Frodo, you can now admit your inexperience in matters of the heart --- or body. We don't mind. In fact, I'll wager Sam is inexperienced, too. Sam?"
SAM: Iím not saying anything.
THIA: We wonít tell. Honest.
ARWEN: What exactly are we asking? Whether Sam is inexperienced, or how exactly he fixed that?
FRODO: In order? No, and very well.
Frodo really didn't want his poor friend subjected to Pippin's questioning. Sam was a sensitive hobbit and usually quite shy about such things.
THIA: Except for those occasions when he isnít.
SAM: I donít go chattering about private matters to any nosy parker as goes askiní, no.
ARAGORN: You donít need to chatter. Itís always ĎMr. Frodoí this and Ďare you comfortable sirí that and Ďhere, let me snuggle you and kiss you and who cares if we keep our guide up half the nightí --
THIA: Oh, hush, Mr. Sour Grapes. Like you wouldnít have done the same if you had the chance.
If he could find a way to divert Pippin's attention . . .
FRODO: Look! Ale!
ARWEN: That wasnít nice. Accurate, but not nice.
Suddenly something strange possessed Frodo.
THIA: Are you trying to bring up BagEnders again? Iím pretty sure BagEnders Frodo never had his head spin around. And doesnít look like Linda Blair, either.
FRODO: Do I have to vomit pea soup? I hate pea soup.
Pippin thought Frodo was inexperienced with lovers, which was actually untrue. Frodo had had three in his lifetime, although the only person who knew about them was Sam. Frodo was the epitome of a gentlehobbit and very discreet.
ARWEN: He is?
THIA: This is some new definition of Ďgentlehobbití that doesnít include anything about the actual Shire.
FRODO: No, no, to be fair, Shire customs did stress not talking about your love affairs. The authorís merely overlooked the parts of Shire custom that were about not wandering all over the place or befriending your gardener or taking off on a quest to save the world.
And usually, Frodo didn't care to have anyone except his best friend know the details of his private life.
ARWEN: So... Sam knows because heís Frodoís best friend, not because heís in and out of Bag End at all hours and would probably walk in on Frodo and any lovers regardless.
SAM: Hoy! Bag Endís got locks.
THIA: And why would he know the details of Frodoís private life because of friendship? I canít see Frodo leaning on the windowsill and telling Sam exactly how Lover Number One liked to use currant jam.
FRODO: Not that kind of details. I hope.
But for some reason, tonight, he wanted to put Pippin in his place.
FRODO: Actually, thatís a fairly common reaction. Happens every time he tries to persuade me to let him have a larger help of mushrooms.
The cold, the Warg howls, and the dangerous journey before them made him feel rather careless.
FRODO, as himself: Tra-la-la, I could die tomorrow, so tonight Iíll say things that will make me wish I could die tomorrow.
SAM: Anyone have a gag? For the Frodo in the fic, I mean.
THIA: Damn. Here I was hoping for light hobbit bondage.
FRODO: Youíve been talking with Syxer again, I see.
And, he knew that Aragorn could probably hear their conversation. For some reason he couldn't explain, he didn't want Aragorn to think he was just an innocent, naive hobbit with no experience in more worldly ways.
ARAGORN: Er, I did know Frodo was fifty.
ARWEN: Itís possible to reach fifty and still be innocent and naive, love.
ARAGORN: Not in the Shire. Bilbo had quite a few stories to tell.
FRODO: It wasnít my fault Bilbo never learnt to knock.
Frodo didn't know exactly why he said it, but suddenly, out it came. "I bedded Dahlia Bracegirdle," he blurted, quite loudly. Then as if that wasn't enough, he added, "As well as Ivy Hardbottle, Opal Proudfoot, and Amarantha Chubb's brother."
ARWEN: Poor Amarantha Chubbís brother, who doesnít even get his own name.
FRODO: Can I get a little pity here, too? Given that I canít even count?
THIA: One plus one plus one plus one equals three, for very small amounts of one.
Four pairs of eyes suddenly fastened on him---three from the campfire and one from several feet away by the tree.
ARAGORN: On the other hand, three plus one equals four, same as usual.
THIA: This math lesson was brought to you by Bagshot Street, financed with the support of viewers like you.
Pippin's mouth was agape. Merry's eyes were sparkling with mirth. Sam looked a bit embarrassed.
SAM: Lying through your teeth like that. Tsk.
FRODO: Well, I certainly hope itís not by my counting ability.
Aragorn heard Frodo quite loudly and had to stop himself from choking.
THIA: How can you hear someone loudly?
ARWEN: The same way you can see someone softly.
Several feet away, Gandalf, Gimli, and Legolas stirred. Gandalf opened one eye slowly, thinking he MUST have been dreaming, and settled back down. Surely Frodo hadn't just announced the details of his sex life at 2:00 in the morning in front of eight other people --- two of whom were still relative strangers.
FRODO: Only two? Which two does he mean?
THIA: Probably Legolas and Gimli, since Boromir is still unaccountably missing.
ARAGORN: Itís not fair, I tell you. Boromir was a great man.
ARWEN: Yes, dear.
"WHAT?" Pippin cried.
FRODO: If he didnít hear me the first time, I am most certainly not repeating myself.
ARWEN: Perhaps heís just bewildered that you donít remember the first name of Amarantha Chubbís brother.
"WHERE?" Merry asked.
THIA: Colonel Mustard, with the candlestick, in the parlor.
SAM: In the Shire, like. Where does he think?
ARAGORN: ...never mind. I had an alternate interpretation, but itís not important now.
SAM, fingering his frying pan: Good.
"Mr. Frodo!" Sam exclaimed.
Frodo shut his eyes. Why had he told Pippin and Merry? What had possessed him? Surely not the Ring . . . but what was done was done.
THIA: No, not the Ring. The author. Weíve already established that.
FRODO: Why is everything blamed on the Ring? Towards the end, it did rather... er...
SAM: Yes, sir.
FRODO: ...but before that, I think I can take the responsibility for my own poor choices when I made them.
ARAGORN: Yes, but your poor choices involved repeating silly poems in an inn and drawing attention to yourself. This is rather another level.
"What question would you like answered first?" asked Frodo. "I bedded them. All of them, many times. Not all at once, of course," he laughed, then grew more serious. "Now, I don't suppose I'll ever see any of them again."
THIA, humming: Do-do do-do, do-do do-do...
FRODO, in his best announcerís voice: Meriadoc and Peregrin thought that theyíd joined their cousin Frodo on a quest to save Middle-earth. Now they find that they have in fact entered... the Twilight Zone!
Pippin and Merry looked at him, stunned, trying to imagine their seemingly innocent cousing engaging in such activities.
THIA: Now probably isnít the time to go count the number of NC-17 stories wherein Frodo features prominently, is it?
FRODO: Isnít there some middle ground between my being an innocent whoís never so much as tossed off before, and my being a, er...
ARAGORN: Apparently not. Shame, that.
Sam shook his head, sighing,
SAM: Am I still embarrassed?
ARWEN: If you arenít, you should be. Wait, no, itís Frodo who should be embarrassed, my mistake.
THIA: Frodo, what did I say about hiding under the seats?
and Aragorn . . . well, if he had been worrying about drifting to sleep while on watch,
ARAGORN: I was?
SAM: Of course. You know how all those years of training as a Ranger havenít done a thing about your needing a solid eight hours.
he was now wide awake and had just visualized a totally nude, aroused Frodo, body glowing with perspiration as he moved in tandem with someone else . . . blue eyes opening wide and shining . . . rosebud mouth crying out as release came . . . hot seed spurting . . .
THIA: Sam, would you mind holding onto Frodo? If he keeps trying to hide, then weíll never get through this fic.
ARWEN: Are hobbits actually made out of flowers?
ARWEN: Weíve Ďrosebudí mouth, and Ďseedí spurting. Itís a reasonable question.
THIA: Rose Bowl Parade hobbits!
Aragorn shook his head to clear it and abruptly stood up, feeling the need for air.
ARWEN: Oh, is that what theyíre calling it these days.
THIA: That joke wasnít funny when you used it the last time.
He sighed, walked around the tree a few times, rearranged his cloak, and then settled back down to continue listening.
FRODO: And through all of this, I failed to notice that my audience was rather larger than Iíd intended. Er. So to speak.
ARWEN: Werenít you supposedly telling this so Aragorn would think of you as a grown hobbit and not a child?
FRODO: For pityís sake, there are easier ways. I was taking the One Ring to Mordor to cast it into Mount Doom: thatís not the act of a child.
THIA: Nope, sorry. Elijah Wood looks twelve years old, therefore youíll never be allowed to be an adult even if canonically you were fifty years old.
"Well for goodness sakes, what was it like?" Pippin was crying. "Was it good? Why have you never told us before?"
FRODO, rather grumbly: Because I knew Iíd get exactly this sort of reaction?
ARAGORN: Because I wasnít there?
ARWEN, very sweetly: So are you implying that you are the one possessing Frodo?
ARAGORN: No! I mean Ė no!
Frodo pinned him with a bright blue glance. "Would I have done it so many times if it wasn't good, my dear hobbit?
SAM: Well, maybe. Rosie always seemed impatient-like at bedding, but we managed children enough.
FRODO: Ah, yes. How could I have forgotten that.
But as for telling, sorry, Pip, I don't kiss and tell,
THIA: What do you call this?
ARWEN: Telling without the kissing.
ARAGORN: Given the rating --
ARAGORN: Itís perfectly logical --
SAM: See these?
THIA: Hey! My good sewing shears!
SAM: Begging your pardon, maíam, but there wonít be any NC-17.
THIA: I think thatís cheating, Sam.
SAM: Allís fair in love and bad fanfic, my Gaffer used to say. Or wouldíve, if heíd had to read this sort of thing.
ARWEN: So long as you clip the fic and not Estel. Iíve a use for those bits.
ARAGORN: Do I get a say in the matter?
THIA and ARWEN together: No.
and nobody needed to know. Besides, why do you need my versions? Aren't you the epitome of the 'hobbit about town?' I've heard the rumors."
THIA: What rumors?
FRODO: Well, there was the one about the frog down the back of Pearlís dress. And the one about what all he really put into his Ďspecialty soupí.
SAM: You canít really call the tale of how much ale he could down at a sitting a rumor when there was so many as saw it.
Pippin glanced down. "Well, cousin, I'm not really a 'hobbit about town,' as you put it. I'm afraid I'm not THAT experienced after all. Oh, don't get me wrong --- I've gone pretty far, but never THAT far."
FRODO: Just to Bree. No, wait, come to think of it, Pippin hadnít been to Bree before the Quest.
THIA: Geography as metaphor for sexual experience. Havenít heard that one before.
ARWEN: Itís interesting if you carry it out to its logical extreme, though. Whoís the Ďslutí here, metaphorically speaking?
FRODO: In the story? I am, Iím afraid.
ARWEN: And yet, whoís traveled the farthest?
ARAGORN: ...awful metaphor. Absolutely terrible. Back to the story.
Frodo took pity on him. "Well, Pippin, it's certainly nothing to be ashamed of.
SAM: Says you.
THIA: Given that Frodo went and made an idiot of himself to prevent Sam from being exposed as having just as little experience, Iím detecting a double standard here.
You've shown more wisdom than I, not letting yourself get caught up in petty affairs. Although, I must admit, I'm a little surprised. Here I always thought you were the most worldly of hobbits."
THIA: Pippin? Worldly?
SAM: You shouldíve seen the airs he put on when we came home from Gondor.
FRODO: Not the point, Sam-love. Iím proving, yet again, that sexual experience aside, I am an Innocent. A stupid Innocent at that.
ARWEN: Tests still inconclusive whether brains and virginity have anything to do with each other. Story at eleven.
"No," Pippin said, "not quite. But don't tell anyone that! It will ruin reputation!"
ARWEN: Who is Ďreputationí, and why should we care?
He grew more serious. "Why were they petty affairs, Frodo? Did you use them and then dump them, my dear cousin?"
FRODO: Not only am I presumed to be a slut --
THIA: A discreet slut. Nobody knew, remember.
FRODO: -Ėbut Iím a callous slut as well. Joy.
ARWEN: You were the one who called them Ďpettyí.
THIA, reading out of the dictionary: ĎOf little or no importance or consequence.í Hmm. Iíd always thought it implied Ďhaving or showing narrow ideas, interests, etc.í
ARAGORN: The descriptionís getting less flattering by the minute.
Frodo's face grew serious. "No, Pippin. The relationships just weren't meant to be. I really liked all of them, but I wouldn't have called it love.
FRODO: Then for pityís sake, why did I sleep with them?
THIA: Itís possible to base a relationship on something other than love.
ARWEN: But why would you want to?
THIA: ...um. Momentary carnal pleasure?
Maybe I was trying to prove I was desirable to someone, not just 'mad' Baggins's adopted heir.
THIA: And Sam following you around with longing eyes Ė you remember Sam? Your Ďbest friendí? Ė didnít prove a thing.
SAM: Mustíve been wanting for his gooseberry crumble recipe.
FRODO: I feel used.
Maybe it was lust, I don't know. Pure and simple lust . . . just using each other's bodies for pleasure."
ARWEN: How boring.
ARWEN: Oh, donít look at me like that. I was over two thousand years old when I met my Estel. No matter what the Professor said of my people, one does not reach two thousand years without having made a few rash choices.
THIA: Such as?
ARWEN: I will say only this: Haldirís greatest talent lay not with his bow and arrow.
ARAGORN: But Ė you Ė I Ė
ARWEN: Oh, stop pouting. It was over a thousand years before I met you.
Nearby, Aragorn grimaced and shifted his weight to relieve the tightness of his trousers.
THIA: Shouldnít have worn that skin-tight leather.
ARAGORN, rather grumpily: Weíre headed to Caradhras. Loose trousers mean snow getting into inconvenient places.
FRODO: Of course, if youíre a hobbit, itís a lost cause in any case.
THIA: The snow or the tight trousers?
"So, why?" Pippin demanded.
FRODO: Because the Ring has nothing better to do than foul up both my aesthetic sense and my sense of propriety?
THIA: Because canon means nothing compared with making Aragorn out to have a huge, um...
ARWEN: There, there, beloved. Iím sure she didnít mean to imply anything about your size.
ARAGORN: Thatís not even the question Pippin actually asked.
THIA: Oh, details.
Frodo looked at him. "Well . . . things just kind of fizzled out between Ivy and me.
FRODO, as himself: Probably something to do with the bucket of cold water Sam Ďaccidentallyí poured over her.
SAM: My hand slipped.
THIA: Couldíve been worse. You couldíve called out Samís name at just the wrong time. Oh, wait, I forgot, Sam doesnít exist as a sexual being in this story!
Opal moved away to the other side of the Shire
THIA, as Opal: I can understand a wrong name now and then, but every time...
ARWEN: Are you quite finished harping on how the author is ignoring Sam?
and we lost touch. I found out Amarantha's brother was seeing someone else.
SAM, as Amaranthaís brother: Sorry and all, but I want someone who can remember my name.
ARWEN: ...very well, this time Iíll permit it.
THIA: Awfully kind of your ladyship, Iím sure.
And as for me and Dahlia, well . . . we got scared.
THIA: What? Iím not saying anything.
SAM: And I wouldnít threaten a lass. Not proper at all.
ARWEN: Does this mean youíll put down the frying pan?
She . . . we . . . we thought, one time, that she was . . . with child. But it was a false alarm." His voice trailed off. "After that, we were too frightened that it could REALLY happen.
THIA: Hobbit cultural note: no birth control.
FRODO: Of course not. We want to sire lots of little hobbits to work the fields.
THIA: How feudal of you.
SAM: I thought we were an autonomous collective.
FRODO: Youíre deluding yourself. Weíre living in a dictatorship Ė
ARAGORN: If youíre going to compare Shadowfax to two coconuts clapped against each other, I donít want to hear it.
So we quit, and the spell just . . . wore off. We lost interest in one another.
FRODO: Ha. I suspected as much.
ARWEN: Do hobbits have folk-magic?
SAM: Oh, aye. Every fair thereís some old granny off in a corner selling little bags to keep away illness or bring your true-love. Why did you think we kept asking if this and that was magic?
ARAGORN: Did they work?
FRODO: No, but itís a living for the old grannies.
After that, I never really wanted to get involved again."
ARAGORN: Sam just... fell into your lap, did he? Overcame your resistance. Still more angst.
FRODO: Er... you might say that.
THIA: You mean Sam exists in this story? Iím shocked.
FRODO: Soís Sam.
If the others had been looking at him before with surprise, they were now looking at Frodo with disbelief.
"By Elbereth, is that true?!" said Merry. "I'm very sorry, Frodo."
THIA: What is Merry apologizing for? Itís not his fault.
FRODO: For taking Elberethís name in vain.
SAM: For knowing Elberethís name, mayhap.
ARWEN, as Elbereth: Hmm? Did someone call me? Oh, itís that silly hobbit again. Zap!
ARAGORN: I didnít think Elbereth did the Ďzapí thing.
ARWEN: For this, sheíll make an exception.
"Don't be, Merry. It would not have worked out, anyway. It was not the right path to take.
FRODO: Not only am I an idiot, but Iím a prosey idiot. Kill me now.
ARAGORN: If we killed you now, weíd never get to the Frodo/Aragorn... um... I mean to say...
THIA: I donít think youíre helping your case any.
It wasn't love --- more like, a friendship. Just the physical yearning of two hobbits who should have known better."
THIA, as TV announcer: And this is why chastity belts are the latest big seller among the tweenage set --
FRODO: What, to make sure we know better?
THIA: Well, that or because Samís jealous. Your pick.
Pippin was silent. He felt bad about having baited Frodo.
FRODO: Augh, image of fish-hooks, get it out get it out.
Sam smiled softly at his master, and Aragorn continued to listen quietly, feeling his heart squeeze in sympathy for the little hobbit.
FRODO: Sympathy? Iím a prosy, sententious bore.
THIA: With sexual experience.
FRODO: And that makes any difference how?
THIA: Um... it means that Gratuitous Character Of Your Choice might have a chance with you?
FRODO: Why would they want to?
ARAGORN: Have you looked in a mirror lately?
"Physical yearning?" asked Pippin. "You never did answer my earlier question. Did it live up to your expectations?'
FRODO, as himself: No. I found it terribly boring. Thatís why I never did it again.
Frodo looked thoughtful. "Well, it was very hurried and fumbled at first. I didn't really know what to do . . . and I'm sure I'm still not too good at it . . ."
THIA: So, sexual intercourse is a generic skill at which one can improve by practice, with no consideration for such details as partner. Good to know.
SAM: Not too good at it my Aunt Fanny.
THIA: Shush. You donít exist in this story, remember.
SAM: I bloody well do Ė I smiled at him two paragraphs ago, remember?
THIA: All right, you barely exist in this story. And you certainly have never seen Frodo naked, except maybe in the bath, much less, um... Aragorn, stop drooling.
ARAGORN: I am not drooling.
ARWEN: Your eyes were glazing over. Just remember, beloved: sewing shears.
*I'll teach him,* Aragorn was thinking . . .
ARAGORN: I thought you were going to use those on the story.
ARWEN: Of course on the story. What else would I use them on?
THIA: Ooo, nice innocent look.
Frodo went on. "But after a few times, yes, I could say I found myself looking forward to it.
FRODO: If sex is an obligation, thereís something wrong with the relationship right there.
THIA: Especially since these relationships were supposedly nothing but sex.
SAM, muttering: Fool fictional hobbits, taking advantage of my Frodo...
And I think I gave my partners some pleasure as well. At least, they certainly sounded like it, by the moans . . ."
THIA: There are other ways to tell if your partnerís having a good time. Physical cues. Iím just saying.
FRODO: Apparently Iím not that experienced.
"And the heaving and thrusting?" Pippin squeaked.
"Yes, Pippin," Frodo said, suddenly wanting the younger hobbit to settle down and go to sleep. "I think you've been reading too many erotic elven stories. Anyway, yes," and here his eyes grew distant, "the heaving . . . the thrusting . . .
ARWEN: How exactly is this going to help Peregrin go to sleep?
THIA: Heís trying to hypnotize him?
FRODO: Maybe if I hypnotize myself, Iíll forget this ever happened.
having somebody that close to you, even inside of you . . . both of your bodies glistening with sweat, pumping . . .
THIA: Enough with the gerunds, already.
ARAGORN: So, Frodo Ė Frodo? Whereís he gone?
THIA: Bother. Frodo, out from under Ė Sam, get Frodo out from under the seats? Sam? Oi, both of you back on your seats NOW. If we have to suffer through this, so do you.
until you reach such a high peak that you feel you're going to come undone and scream for mercy."
THIA: Can I make a fannish in-joke here?
Sam was aghast at Frodo's frankness.
SAM, as himself: I thought you werenít going to tell them about us!
ARWEN: Samwise as a prude. How... bewildering.
ARAGORN: No, beloved. Some authors truly did miss the way Sam touched Frodo every single chance he got, and hovered, and generally behaved like an utter dog in the manger.
THIA: Youíre going a little overboard on the Sam-jealousy.
ARAGORN: Look, heíd been half-skewered by an orc. All I wanted to do was look at his shoulder.
SAM: You stripped him without a by-your-leave!
FRODO: Only my shirt. At least, all I remember being stripped off was tunic and waistcoat. If it was anything more, Iíve repressed it.
Merry's eyes were wide, his mouth slightly open. Aragorn wiped his brow. He couldn't take much more of this before HE would be climbing the tree to seek release.
ARAGORN: Wait a moment, arenít I still on watch?
ARWEN: Yes, love, but everyone knows that Wargs wonít attack while a hobbit is telling stories about his sex life.
THIA: Plus, climbing a tree while aroused Ė wouldnít that hurt?
FRODO: Donít ask me. Hobbits arenít in the habit of climbing trees.
ARAGORN: Oh, certainly, leave me to answer the question.
"Ooooo, cousin," said Pippin. "How many times in one session did you . . . um . . . you know, reach that peak," he finished.
FRODO: If I recall correctly, it took us at least two or three sessions to reach the peak.
ARAGORN: We didnít Ė only the pass, not the peak.
SAM: And even Mount Doom, I donít think we properly went right to the top, sir.
THIA: Havenít any of you ever heard of metaphor?
FRODO: Are you calling that a metaphor?
THIA: Well, she did use it earlier... ah, heck with it. Carry on.
"Oh, at least two or three times each time we made love," Frodo said.
ARWEN: Hobbits must have very impressive... rejuvenation periods.
THIA: For the last time, Frodo, no hiding under the seats. Iím not kidding.
"Of course, the first time was with Dahlia, and we were both virgins, so we had a lot to learn.
THIA: Inasmuch as Shire society is really hurting on the sex-ed front.
ARAGORN: So that copy of ĎJoy of Hobbit Sexí in the Gondor library is a fake?
FRODO: I do not want to know. I really, really, really donít want to know.
ARWEN: That seems to have been the problem.
It hurt her a bit . . . she said I was too big, but eventually, I got it in.
THIA: On behalf of Dahlia, Iíd just like to say: ow.
SAM: What, no pervy remarks?
THIA: Even without the incentive of your ever-vigilant frypan, Samwise? Letís just say that my reaction to that particular description remains ow.
Of course, by that time. . . well, let's just say that I didn't last too long that first time. Now I know I have to take it more slowly, give my partner time to let the pleasure build."
ARWEN: Ah. Of course. Thatís not at all something someone might find out from, for example, talking to his lover before attempting to get up her skirts.
THIA: This is the Amazing Clueless Slut Frodo. Logic doesnít enter into it.
FRODO: Ouch. Bad phrasing.
Aragorn coughed. Too big? He suddenly wanted to know HOW big Frodo was.
THIA: Didnít you measure it once?
FRODO: I didnít exactly write the results down.
THIA: Couldnít you just... um. Never mind.
ARAGORN: What? What did I do?
Of course, Aragorn had seen almost all of the Company naked while sick or bathing, including Frodo . . . but not naked and AROUSED.
SAM: Of course not. Youíve no bloody reason to have done so.
THIA: Unless he was, for example, spying on you having sex.
SAM: Thatís another image I could well have done without.
And whenever he'd seen Frodo nude, Aragorn had done his level best to look away so he wouldn't embarrass himself.
ARAGORN: Embarrass myself how? How could I humiliate myself any worse than this story is already doing?
THIA: You know, staring. Slavering. Making inappropriate comments. The usual.
He reminded himself, though, that Frodo was a hobbit, so he'd probably look smallish to the ranger. But hobbits had big feet . . . what if other parts of their anatomy were different, too?
FRODO: One word for you: proportionate.
Not that the ranger really cared. Frodo could be gelded and Aragorn would still want to do him.
THIA: And, in fact, in this pairing, Frodo frequently apparently is gelded...
ARWEN: Terrible mis-use of the sewing shears. Entirely the wrong direction.
ARAGORN: I donít think youíre in this story at all, my heart. No jealousy allowed.
ARWEN: Samwise isnít in the story either, and that doesnít stop him.
Pippin's eyes were agog. "Tell me more! Tell me more! What about Amarantha's brother? How do you do THAT?"
THIA, singing: Tell me more, tell me more, did you get very far...
FRODO: This isnít summer.
THIA: And you arenít wearing black leather or played by John Travolta either. Your point?
ARWEN: Iím still waiting to see if Amaranthaís brother ever gets a name.
"Oh, that," Frodo replied. "Well . . . it works pretty much the same way as the bonding between a man and a women, except that you usually put your member in a different place, if you take my meaning."
THIA: Hobbit bondage!
ARWEN: And really, the author doesnít show much imagination. Must it be all about coitus?
ARAGORN: Apparently her mind doesnít stretch to full lips...
FRODO: Capable hands.
SAM: Even a rub can suit just fine, if you take my meaning.
THIA: Is it hot in here, or is it just me?
Pippin did. "But doesn't that . . . hurt??!!" he exclaimed. "Owwwww!"
THIA: No sex ed whatsoever. Obviously this is what happens when the Gondorians take all the good books for themselves.
FRODO: How did they procure ĎThe Joy of Gay Hobbit Sexí? I thought Rangers didnít come into the Shire.
THIA: Maybe Bilbo had the sole copy, and Gandalf nicked it?
ARWEN: You two are having entirely too much fun with this.
SAM: Fingers and oil. Itís no more than common sense.
Frodo silenced him with a look. "The first time, yes, it can hurt like holy fire. And Tollo, well . . .
ARWEN: He has a name!
FRODO, as himself: Just slipped my mind for a moment. I kept wanting to call him Sam for some reason.
he wanted to do ME.
ARWEN: My goodness, what a notion. Iím sure no one ever thought of that before.
ARAGORN: Sarcasm does not become you, love.
FRODO: And here I had my Ďshocked expressioní all prepared to go.
THIA: You know, I could say something here, but I wonít.
I wasn't really keen on it at first, but he warmed me up to the idea. It was a very tight squeeze when he finally tried it. Boy, it really burned---I remember squeezing my eyes shut with the pain.
THIA: Taking that Ďwarming upí idea a little too far, there.
SAM: Hoy, Mr. Frodoís in pain here.
THIA: I refuse to have sympathy for the idiot whoís impersonating Frodo in this fic. Heís a reader. He should have read something. Anything.
ARWEN: I thought ĎThe Joy Of Gay Hobbit Sexí was in Gondor.
FRODO: Then I should have made Gandalf bring it back. Or not had pointless sex in the first place.
But oh, was it worth it in the end, and it only hurt that bad the first time.
THIA: It did?
ARWEN: Alas, thatís not even true for women.
ARAGORN: I thought I was careful, beloved.
ARWEN: You were. Itís merely something that takes... time. Time and care.
THIA: Dammit, here I was hoping for TMI from Frodo, and you two have to go all mushy on me.
ARWEN: You thought I gave up my immortality merely because Estel looked cute in a scruffy beard?
THIA: Well, it is a very cute scruffy beard.
We also learned to use a lot --- a LOT --- of butter out of his parents' larder. They always wondered what happened to it, but of course, never found out."
SAM: That canít be right.
ARAGORN: What, using butter to, er, smooth the way?
SAM: No. Well, that too Ė youíd think the lass writing this never heard of lotions and suchlike.
THIA: Itís that whole problem of ĎThe Joy of Gay Hobbit Sexí being in Gondor again. But go on, you were saying?
SAM: I canít speak for what Mr. Bilbo wouldíve said, but if my Gaffer had noted a lot of butter missing out of our tub, heíd not have stood around scratching his belly and wondering what mightíve happened to it. Heíd have asked straight out what baking had been done, and to whom weíd given it, and why we hadnít saved a piece for our poor old dad.
FRODO: Iím not certain about Bilbo. We had the oddest conversation, a few years after I moved to Bag End, about lasses and babes and lads and the importance of, er, not using certain items in certain contexts.
THIA: Inquiring minds are... actually, inquiring minds should probably run away very very quickly.
Butter . . . visions of Frodo coated with butter assaulted Aragorn's mind.
ARAGORN: See? Obviously not my fault at all.
FRODO, very dryly: Oh, absolutely.
ARWEN: Yes, the hobbits held you down and forced you to imagine Frodo without any clothes on.
THIA: If I say that sounds like fun, Samís going to give me a gentle tap with the Frying Pan of Doom, isnít he?
In his mind's eye he could see Frodo and his lover, as Tollo
THIA, muttered: Sam.
ARWEN: Hush. Sam doesnít exist in this story, remember?
FRODO: Iíd still like to know where Tollo came from, given that I said I only had three lovers originally.
THIA: You never know. Fic-Frodo mightíve been forgetting one of the ladies instead.
cupped the twin globes of Frodo's fine backside
ARAGORN: The temptation to make a Ďmappingí joke is, um... resistable.
SAM: I thought Middle-earth was flat.
THIA, thumbing through a very large dusty book: Only during the First Age. At the Fall of Numenor, in order to prevent more foolhardy idiots Ė sorry, Aragorn Ė from trying to invade Valinor, the Valar made Middle-earth round.
FRODO: I am not Middle-earth in any case and donít need to be mapped, thank you. Neither me nor my backside.
and pushed his member in, Frodo arching his head back as he grimaced in pain and pleasure.
SAM: Better than Ďhobbithoodí, maíam.
THIA: Anythingís better than Ďhobbithoodí.
FRODO: Why am I arching only my head back? Is that, properly speaking, an arch? Iíd have thought the entire back would need to be involved for it to be an arch.
Surely, thought Aragorn, Frodo's lover must have experienced the ultimate sensation as he plunged into Frodo's slick hot depths . . . .
THIA: Ah, so thatís what happened to Tollo. He died.
SAM: I never!
THIA: No, no, that wasnít an accusation, that was a comment on the word Ďultimateí. Really. With maybe a side of confusion as to when exactly Frodoís Ďdepthsí became Ďslickí.
FRODO: The result of wasting all that butter. Too much, and tupping a lad is, it appears, indistinguishable from tupping a lass.
SAM: Better than that self-lubricating Ďukeí thing, Frodo-love.
ARWEN: Whatís an Ďukeí?
ARAGORN: Iíll tell you later, beloved.
THIA, mischievously: Much later.
ARAGORN, eyeing THIA warily: Much, much later.
SAM: Least said, soonest over. On, please?
"How'd he warm you up?" Pippin asked.
FRODO: Dry blankets?
SAM: Iíve always liked a hot bath, myself.
ARAGORN: I cannot be the sole pervert here. This is impossible.
THIA: Well, no, I am too, but tea is very good for warming a body up.
ARAGORN: I am checking under your bed for a pod.
ARWEN: Pods? Have you been going to Blockbuster without me?
THIA: Iíd have thought those copies of GOLDENEYE and SHARPEíS EAGLE wouldíve been a tip-off.
ARAGORN: Stop that. Stop that right now. Youíre blackmailing Frodo, not me.
FRODO: I donít mind trading off.
"Use your imagination, Pippin," said Frodo as he opened his mouth in a giant---for a hobbit---yawn.
SAM: ĎFor a hobbití, my Aunt Matilda.
FRODO: Yes, dear author, we are aware that hobbits are smaller than humans. You donít need to drive it home.
ARWEN: Perhaps the author enjoys the contrast?
THIA: Well, yeah, certainly possible, but why would Frodo enjoy Aragorn being so much bigger than him?
FRODO: Weíve had no indications that I do. One throw-away line that I want Aragorn to regard me as an adult, and donít mind him listening to me making a prize idiot of myself. For the rest, itís all been Aragorn lusting after me.
THIA: With much emphasis on how much smaller you are than him.
ARWEN: We have words for that, among my people.
THIA: No, no, Frodoís an adult, remember? Heís had sex. Several times. Not pedophilia at all.
(Aragorn had visions of what that mouth could do to him).
FRODO: Bite him?
THIA: Augh! No vampire hobbit references!
FRODO: I was only thinking of an ordinary sort of biting-pain... do I want to know what youíre talking about?
THIA: No. Never mind. Not important at all.
ARWEN: Vampire hobbits. Hmmm.
THIA: Iíll send you links later.
ARAGORN, in a small voice: ...help.
"He just kind of . . . teased me, I guess . . . you know . . . with his mouth on me . . . sucking until I just gave in."
THIA: Is it me, or does Frodo sound very human-teenager-ish here?
FRODO: Not like a hobbit teenager. Nor a tweener, either.
SAM: Not without lowering your voice at the least. And getting your ear boxed if any of the gammers caught ear of what you were speaking of.
FRODO: And those nearly all beer-tales, told only when a lad and his friends was far gone with drink. Usually involving at least two lasses, if I recollect accurately.
ARAGORN: So story-you is drunk?
FRODO: It seems as likely a story as claiming the Ring made me do it.
The memory of it seemed very near suddenly, and Frodo, shutting his big blue eyes for a moment and half-curling the corners of his rosebud mouth, involuntarily moaned with remembered pleasure.
THIA: Frodo, out Ė oh, to hell with it. Stay down there. See if we care.
ARWEN: When, exactly, did Frodo Baggins become a childís doll?
ARAGORN: Beg pardon?
SAM: His eyes ainít blue.
ARWEN: Besides that, Samwise Ė his mouth isnít shaped like a rosebud, either. The description sounds like nothing more than the sort of doll I kept as a very young child, of jointed wood and careful paint and fine dresses. Not the sort of thoughts likely to rouse me.
THIA: Moaning or no moaning. ...um, Frodo, the storyís nearly over. Promise. You can come up again.
That did it. Aragorn couldn't take it anymore. He stood.
SAM, getting up: Him and us.
THIA: First you and now Frodo Ė sit down. Iíll write the smut after all, deal?
SAM: ...what sort of smut?
THIA: Poetic smut. Rivendell, established relationship, no angst whatsoever. Well, as little as I can get away with.
SAM, bending to call under the seats: Mr. Frodo?
FRODO, still under the seats: No Gandalf interruptions?
THIA: Please. I am not a hack.
ARAGORN: Do you always bribe your muses?
THIA: Oh, be quiet.
"So . . ." Pippin began, "how did . . ."
SAM: ...you make that gooseberry crumble?
ARAGORN: ...you really use the butter?
ARWEN: ...you find out that Sam loved you?
THIA: You romantic, you.
ARWEN: I waited decades for my beloved. The Elves yield to no one when it comes to high romance.
"Pippin!" Frodo admonished, opening his yes, "I've answered all the questions I have a mind to tonight.
FRODO: Why didnít I say that back at the beginning of the story?
ARAGORN: Because then I might still think you a virgin. Valar forfend.
FRODO: Er, Iím not.
ARAGORN: This is some alternate universe wherein youíve overlooked Sam. I might not have been sure. Theoretically.
THIA: What, that heíd overlooked Sam?
ARAGORN: How can one overlook Sam?
THIA: Iíve often wondered that myself.
SAM: Er... thank you, maíam. I think.
THIA: Oh, calm down. Iím not going to do anything nasty. Frodo might not have a Frying Pan of Doom, but Iím sure heíd think of something equally intimidating.
FRODO: Yes I would, thank you.
Can we please go to sleep now? I promise, I'll answer any more you have later."
FRODO: Drunk. Or else Pippin secretly has incriminating pictures of Bilbo with a sheep. I canít think of any other reason why Iíd make that promise.
ARWEN: The Ring?
FRODO: I donít believe either the Ring or Sauron cared about my sex life, thank you.
SAM: Except insofar as theyíd rather you didnít have one.
FRODO: I thought that was the Professor.
THIA: Dude. J.R.R. Tolkien was secretly Sauron. Who knew?
Pippin looked disappointed. "All right, Frodo. Good night. Thank you and . . . I'm . . . sorry for baiting you."
THIA: Must... not...
ARWEN: Is something wrong?
THIA: Restraining the urge to quote something that absolutely no one except me will recognize.
SAM: What, that play of yours?
THIA: Itís not mine, itís... augh. ĎSorry for what? For baiting me? Itís your job. Iím glad to see youíre finally getting the hang of it.í Thank you, I feel better.
FRODO: The concept of a world where Peregrin Took has the job of baiting me is a truly terrifying one.
"Apology accepted, Pippin," Frodo replied. "Now, I think we should all get some sleep." He wrapped his blanket more tightly around him and closed his eyes, sighing softly. Sam did the same. Merry, unable to keep his eyes open any longer, was already dead to the world.
FRODO: Thus proving, I suppose, that my sex life really isnít all that fascinating after all. Iíve humiliated myself for nothing. Thank you, Ms. Baggins.
But some feet away, in the covering darkness behind a tree, stood one very wide-awake ranger.
ARAGORN: Because I wasnít awake before.
SAM: Napping away, no mind for those Wargs at all.
ARWEN: Is it not astonishing how all cares gently melt away in the face of Frodoís sex life?
Opening his breeches front, he gently began stroking his aroused member.
THIA: Whatís with this Ďmemberí thing?
ARAGORN: Clinical words sound, well, clinical. And Iíve never quite managed the slang terms.
FRODO: And the romantic terms... well, Ďmanhoodí isnít quite as awful as Ďhobbithoodí, but itís close.
ARWEN: Isnít there supposed to be a possessive in there? Er, not the manhood question, the Ďbreeches frontí.
THIA: Iím not sure. I donít usually worry that much about Aragornís breeches.
And all the while, he looked with love and longing at Frodo's slender form huddled near the fire.
ARWEN: Love? Love?
THIA: Oh, dear. Just when I thought we were safe.
ARWEN: So tell me, beloved, why exactly you have thrown aside your fiancť for the sake of a male not of your own species?
ARAGORN: Er... technically, youíre not human either.
THIA, quietly: Oh, dear.
FRODO, equally quietly: Poor Aragorn.
ARWEN: Oh, no, Estel. I was born to Elrond Half-Elven, and my race is mine to choose. You knew this when you swore love to me. I repeat: why Frodo Baggins?
ARAGORN: ...I swear to you on my knees, Undomiel, I do not know. Because he is the Ringbearer and I the Promised King, and such titles weigh more heavily in their eyes than your beauty in my heart.
ARWEN: Thatís not much of an explanation.
ARAGORN: Itís not much of a romance. Er, Frodo and me, I mean. I protect him, he trusts me, weíre both attractive males, therefore itís the romance of the Age. Never mind that I have you, or that he truly is about the same size a child would be Ė no insult intended, Frodo Ė
FRODO: None taken.
ARAGORN: Ė or that we both have other things to worry about, or that he has Sam. Not that Iím worried about Sam, but, er...
SAM, eyeing him warily: Thank you.
ARAGORN: In any case, itís a non-issue. I am not in love with Frodo Baggins, I do not want to sleep with Frodo Baggins. End of story.
ARWEN: And Cassie Claire is merely mistaken?
FRODO: Er, Thia, before the fireworks start again, I seem to remember a story being promised from you.
THIA: Canít I just give you chocolate?
Ė end Ė
 The product of a discussion on LJ wherein the lady requested 'light hobbit bondage'.
 I was thinking Undone27, she of the multitudinous hobbit pictures posted to her LJ. Other suggestions welcomed.
 'For Eyes To See', coming soon to a website near you.
 The quote is from the play I was stage-managing at the time of writing the MST, A WALK IN THE WOODS.