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Chapter Text

Those blue eyes remained closed. Ocean depths locked away. Soft breaths rustled stray brown locks, an even but slow cadence.

Aragorn sat at Frodo’s bedside, leaning forward in his seat to grasp the small, little hand peeking out of the sheets. Days, he’d been like this, only taking time to check on the rest of their Hobbits only until they fell asleep. Or when they screamed awake loud enough to shake the halls of the castle. It pained him to leave them, but Legolas and Boromir understood his draw to sit with the injured Hobbit.

“Sitting here for days will not wake him any quicker.”

Aragorn remained still at the voice cutting through his silence like a sword. Anger bristled under his skin. “You’re wise, Gandalf. You’re aware nothing will part me from his side.”

“Then you are a fool,” the wizard nearly snapped out, but something lingered under there. “You have responsibilities. Some of which are for your kingdom .”

Aragorn turned slowly to glare at the man. In the shadows of the night, Gandalf looked tired. It would not save him, however, from Aragorn's protectiveness. “Then I shall remain a fool. Just as I was when I let him part from our side.”

Gandalf brows twitched as thoughts moved in his eyes. Aragorn just returned his gaze to Frodo’s sleeping face. His thumb skimmed over the boy’s palm.

“The blame for his condition does not fall upon your shoulders.”

Aragorn just looked at the boy. “There is no one left alive to blame.”

“You have people to lead.”

He shook his head. “He is my focus until he wakes and heals for he was, and will always be, my burden to care for. Any more arguments?" His snap was uncharacteristic, but he was running low on energy and patience. 

Gandalf gave a high sigh. “My boy, I beg of you to sleep. The other hobbits yearn for your presence.”

Another stab of guilt shot through him. He considered his options before leaning forward to kiss Frodo’s brow, whispering to him in Sindarin before approaching the door. He let it fall shut, closing his eyes as he felt his heart snap.

Gandalf held his shoulder before walking down the hall.

Aragorn dragged his feet as he stumbled through the halls to his quarters. Shadows swam in his vision.

He shoved open the heavy wooden doors of his chambers, blinking at the soft candlelight still shining in the room.

Legolas sat near the windows, silk blonde hair going down his back. The elf gave him an inquisitive but tired stare as he entered.

Aragorn began to shed his tunic. “You should be asleep,” he muttered.

Legolas gave a heatless glare. “You are well aware, Estel, that I will not sleep unless it is by your side.”

The king knew why his prince refused even if it appeared to be a childish, clingy argument to anyone else. Legolas needed to hear his heartbeat throughout the night. Feel the warmth of skin. The solidness of his build. Proof he was still alive.

“And I’ve been parted from your side for days,” the elf continued.

Aragorn gave a blank grin. “You’re more than welcome to join me at any time.”

Legolas stood up from his curled up spot, hands forming fists. “And what about our other little ones?” Venom slipped into his voice.

Aragorn went cold. Muttering a curse, he approached the door to the hobbit’s connecting room. Poking his head in, he spied three small bodies curled up together. He lingered on Sam for much longer than Pip and Merry, watching his chest.

Legolas slipped behind him, kissing at his bare shoulder. “He will not sleep through the night. He dreams of their hell.”

Aragorn tipped his head back. He led him to their large bed, slipping under the heavy, comforting covers.

Legolas shoved his way into his arms, eyes falling closed as he got comfortable.

Aragorn almost fell asleep an hour later before he heard a door squeak open with a soft sniffle.

Immediately, he sat up in bed, Legolas doing the same a moment later. The elf’s hand nearly reached for the bow next to the bed.

Sam’s sad face stared into the room. His tears glistened in the moonlight.

Aragorn waved his hands. “Come here, little one.”

Sam walked to them, dissolving into tears on the way over. Legolas scooped him up into his arms, bringing him into the bed with them. 

Aragorn ran a hand down his back. “Love, what plagues you?”

“Gollum,” Sam sobbed softly into the elf’s neck. “He manipulated Frodo. He was so tired and scared, Aragorn. I couldn’t do anything.”

Legolas stroked his wild curls. “Sam, you bring him a comfort that none of us can. You cared for him when we couldn’t.”

Sam pressed further into Aragorn’s chest. Out of all the hobbits, he didn’t quite understand that appeal of being held by the Man until recently. Throughout their journey before they separated, Sam preferred to bring himself his own comfort while the others sought out their companions.

Merry stuck to Legolas’ side, finding comfort in the elf’s calm energy. Legolas was able to nurture him without many words, knowing words didn’t do much for the hobbit.

Pippin liked to be held close, still having that need of parental comfort. He’d take it from anyone he could get, especially the two Men and now Faramir. Legolas had his place of nourishment, but everyone knew Aragorn had the best luck with the young hobbit when all else failed.

And then there was Frodo. Sam had watched as his friend changed throughout their journey. Not in a bad way, never. But he became softer and in turn did the same to those around him. Before, Boromir would’ve never been caught dead touching any of them, but now he could be seen ruffling their hair, keeping them close to their side, or even picking one of them up for everyone to see. Gimli adopted his role easier than expected as well, providing the hobbits with levity in tiresome situations. The Prince of Mirkwood now held the hobbits on his hip in the presences of Men and Elvenkind alike without hesitation, breaking precedent for a second time after his relationship with Aragorn. The King of Gondor treated them like his children. And Sam couldn’t deny it made him feel wanted.

“He won’t wake up,” he whimpered to his two protectors. Anxiety gripped his heart day after day when Frodo remained asleep.

Aragorn closed his eyes, rocking the small hobbit to the side. “I know you fear for him. We do as well.”

Sam blinked at him with those sad, big eyes. “Can’t you do anything for him?” He turned to Legolas as well.

The elf sighed, brushing his curls back. “I’m sorry, little one.”

Sam took it upon himself to move out of the man’s arms and burrow under their thick blankets. He just waited for them to follow before laying down, right between the two of them. 

Aragorn propped his head up as he turned onto his side. “Sam, when did you last sleep through the night?”

Sam bit his lip, staring around the dark room. “Before Mount Doom but even then…”

Legolas hushed him softly, sliding a hand under his head. Sam leaned into his touch with closed eyes. 

Aragorn put an arm around him, watching as his breathing evened out before he and Legolas joined him in sleep.

…

Aragorn tried to focus on the military leaders in the conference room. Truly. But he couldn’t even tell what they were saying.

“My king?”

Aragorn startled at the title, seeing many eyes looking at him expectantly.

Damn.

“Apologies,” he nervously muttered.

Boromir had a knowing look in his eyes. “Our borders are secure. Though I recommend having scouts sent out until we’re confident that Sauron’s forces are truly gone.”

Aragorn nodded. It made sense. And he trusted the other Man. “Do it.” He dismissed everyone, knowing they’d get nowhere with his mind on other things.

Boromir wrapped a hand around his bicep, and he melted into the touch.

“Aragorn, you are miles away,” the man whispered.

Aragorn gave him a pleading look. “Please, not now.”

Boromir gave a smile. “Then you’ll be pleased to know that Frodo is awake.”

Aragorn didn’t even blink before rushing out of the room and down the hall, Boromir thundering after him.

They made it to the healing sector in record time.

At Frodo’s bedside sat Legolas and Gimli who spoke softly to Frodo while Faramir stayed in the corner. Aragorn felt the tension in his elf’s body language, something dampening his aura. It made him nervous.

Aragorn glared at Boromir. “Why was I not informed immediately?”

The captain just chuckled. “Because I knew you would drop your responsibilities immediately. And now your schedule has been cleared.”

Aragorn crossed to the hobbit, smiling softly at the tired eyes looking around the room. “Hello, little one.”

Frodo blinked at him. Confusion clouded him. Aragorn crouched at the bedside.

“Why are we in Gondor?” he whispered.

Aragorn reached a hand out, brushing the dirty curls back. A bit of grime and ash still clung to his cheeks. Frodo closed his eyes at the touch.

“You were hurt,” Legolas whispered.

Frodo glanced around, a hand going to his shirt. And he went pale when he felt nothing underneath the tunic.

“The ring,” he rasped. “Aragorn, the ring—”

Aragorn hushed him. “Shhhhh, the ring is gone. For good.”

Frodo’s little chest heaved with panic. He shook his head. “N-No, I had it! I had it on the river, I promise!” He looked to the others, praying he wouldn’t see any anger in their eyes.

Boromir hesitantly stepped forward. Guilt had been eating him alive for months about what had occurred after the river. The fact that he attacked their most vulnerable charge just for the power of the ring. “Frodo, the ring was destroyed.”

Frodo didn’t have an ounce of fear in him as he looked up at the man. “What?”

Aragorn tensed. He didn’t like any of this.

Faramir leaned forward with a slow sigh, leg bouncing in his seat.

Frodo straightened up. He leaned toward Aragorn’s arm, head nearly leaning on his bicep. “Who are you?” he whispered.

Faramir stiffened. “Damn,” he muttered.

Aragorn didn’t take his eyes off his little one. “ Gandalf ,” he ordered. Gimli slipped out of the room, running down the hall to retrieve the wizard.

Frodo snapped up, looking into his protector’s blue eyes. “Gandalf?”

Aragorn pulled him close, unable to say anything. All of this was bad. He pointed to the younger Gondorian. “You truly don’t know who he is?”

Frodo peered at the man. His features looked familiar and something inside of him told him that he was safe. “I feel like I should.” Tears dripped down his cheeks. “Aragorn, what’s happening?”

Aragorn swallowed. “We’ll figure it out,” he whispered into his hair, whipping the tears away.

A few minutes passed, and Frodo started sobbing at who walked through the door.

Gandalf blinked once before he walked to the bed. Frodo threw himself at the man like he used to do so long ago, sobbing into his shoulder.

Gandalf chuckled. “Glad to see you’re feeling better.”

Gimli slipped inside of the room, clearing his throat. “There’s an issue.”

Gandalf tightened his grip on the crying hobbit in his arms. “What is it?”

Legolas slipped his hand into Aragorn’s, needing to feel his husband’s touch. “He doesn’t remember.”

Frodo whined. “Don’t remember what? ”

Aragorn reached a hand out, stroking his back. “Love, what’s the last thing you remember?”

Frodo sniffed, still holding into the wizard. He couldn’t believe he was alive. “The river,” he answered. “We were on the river after Lothlorien. We’d just gotten to shore…” He could picture it clear as day.

Gimli gruffly said, “What kind of sorcery is this?”

“None,” Faramir answered. “At least, not of a magical kind.”

Boromir hummed in agreement. “We’ve seen this before in our soldiers. They’ll push their bodies and minds to the farthest limits and the memories just scatter in their mind.”

Frodo reached back for Aragorn, needing him. Aragorn held him to his chest, feeling that comforting weight against his body that told him his little one was safe.

Legolas squeezed the ranger’s hand. “And have they recovered?”

Faramir nodded with a comforting smile. “Yes, after time to recover. Especially with those they cared about.”

Aragorn looked down to the boy in his arms. He could see the fear and uncertainty in his eyes. “I think we can handle that,” he murmured.

Frodo thumped his head to the man’s shoulder. He trusted his protectors and the rest of the fellowship but… how much was he missing?

Chapter Text

Legolas slipped away from Aragorn's side as the ranger held on tightly to the hobbit. He could see the man would not be parted from him for a long time. He could not blame him. He carved to feel the comfortable weight of the hobbit in his arms, but he had to wait. And inform the other hobbits of the news.

He knew they’d still be confined in their room. They’d barely left, still too weak or traumatized to wish to do anything else.

He pushed open the door to his and Aragorn’s chambers, crossing to the hobbit’s door. He knocked gently. He got a soft murmur.

He opened the door, counting three heads. They sat in Merry’s bed, huddled close together. Merry flipped through a book while Pippin stared at the ceiling. Sam played with a ball of thread he’d procured somewhere.

They perked up at the sight of him.

He smiled as he crossed further into the room. “Hello, little ones.” They tugged at him until he crawled into bed with them. He pressed his back against the stone wall while the three boys pressed against him. He welcomed them easily, kissing their heads.

“How has your day been?” he asked them softly.

He got more mumbles. He came to the conclusion they hadn’t left.

“There is something you three must know,” he spoke softly. He felt their muscles tense against him. “This morning Frodo woke up, however, he has no memories of what happened just before we parted ways.

Pippin’s big eyes filled with tears. “W-What?”

Merry scowled with worry and fear. “How does that even happen?”

Legolas tapped the youngest under the chin. “No tears, love. His body and mind went through too much stress. It’s his body’s way of forcing him to recover, however scary and strange it is.”

Sam frowned, tugging at his sleeve. “Will it happen to me?” The other two hobbits stared at him worryingly.

Legolas stroked those blonde curls back, kissing his head. “No, love,” he whispered soothingly. “It is most likely because of the ring. But he is still very weak, so we will not overwhelm him.” He added a soft warning to his voice.

That relaxed the boys enough for him to lean into his side.

Legolas patted their backs a moment later. “Up.” They obeyed with small pinches in their brows. “We’re going to the courtyard. You’ve been cooped up in this room for too long.”

Pippin nervously shuffled his feet. “Must we?” he mumbled.

“Yes,” Legolas said patiently. “It’ll help you heal.” It wasn’t quite the truth but sunlight could do wonders to boost mood.

Merry dragged Pippin along.

Legolas led them through the halls, giving short nods to the guards they passed. He herded the littles ones outside, smiling as they perked up as they stepped into the sun. Even he felt at peace, feeling the force of nature surrounding him.

He kept a close eye on them but allowed them some space. They didn’t appreciate their recent hovering, but Legolas and the others would not be deterred. They had almost lost them, and Legolas refused to let that happen again.

…

Frodo wouldn’t stop shaking in Aragorn’s arms. He’d sat rigid in his lap as Boromir left to summon the healer. The others didn’t know what to do with such a reaction.

“Aragorn, please—”

Aragorn interrupted the hobbit with a single look—one that had Faramir wincing at the parental heat behind it, familiar with it coming from his brother. Frodo ducked his head at being chastised, hiding away in his shoulder.

Gandalf ushered Gimli and Faramir out of the room after brushing a hand over the mop of curls. Frodo leaned into the touch, chasing it until the man stepped away.

“Why do I need a healer?” Frodo mumbled, praying his protector wouldn’t cut him off once again.

Aragorn tried to push away the memories of Frodo’s body being dropped into his arms from the eagles. His skin still was stained from soot and ash in certain places. His tiny body held a history of old and new injuries that Aragorn had seen as the healers rushed the two hobbits into the halls.

“You were hurt,” Aragorn whispered into his hair.

Frodo’s little frown came back, like he was finally registering the pain. “From what?”

Aragorn grimaced. He didn’t want Frodo to worry, but he also wanted the boy’s mind to start turning again to remember. “We will speak about this later.”

A healer came swooping into the room, a soft smile on her face. Boromir lurked in the corner.

Frodo clung into Aragorn’s tunic as the healer reached out to him. Without meaning to, Aragorn’s arms came circling around his charge. He sighed once he came back to his senses before letting the hobbit go, putting a hand against his back.

“Let her examine you, Frodo,” Aragorn ordered softly.

Frodo looked to Boromir, his big blue eyes staring into him. Boromir froze. He’d never expected to see them again. He recalled the pain as the arrows were shot through him in the forest, and all he thought about was Frodo. “Listen to him,” he murmured after a long beat of silence.

Aragorn sent a grateful smile to him.

Frodo crawled off his lap, sitting silently on the bed. He tried to conceal a shiver when Aragorn left his side to go to the other man.

The two men watched as the healer examined their little one. Frodo just looked so confused the longer he sat there and witnessed everything. The healer redressed his wounds and made him swallow down some herbs that made him grimace.

The healer turned to the men. “He is healing well. I’m releasing him to you only if he is to be monitored day and night.”

Aragorn nodded. “We will.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Are you sure, my king? You have your duties."

Boromir cleared his throat. He’d rather stop this before his king bit the girl’s head off. “We have the situation handled.”

She relented with a nod before giving a small smile to Frodo. “Be well, little one.”

Frodo gaped at his protector. “King?”

Boromir snorted at the sheepish body language of the man. He scooped the little one into his arms, and it nearly had him stopping dead in his tracks. How long had it been? He just held him tighter as they walked.

Frodo squirmed in his arms. “What do you mean ‘king’?”

Aragorn sighed. “Stop squirming or you’ll fall.”

Frodo obeyed, resting his head on Boromir’s shoulder. His body hurt. Not just the injuries that had appeared on his body but deep in his muscles.

Boromir walked them into Aragorn and Legolas’ room, approaching the bed.

Aragorn gave pause before gesturing to the large basin of water in the corner of the room. Boromir just gave a short nod before diverting.

He set the boy down on the windowsill, just observing him for a long moment.

Frodo cocked his head as he did so. He leaned onto the man’s muscular arm that was braced beside him.

It knocked Boromir out of his trance with a sad smile. He dropped a kiss on his head. “I’ll be back as soon as I can, okay?”

Frodo nodded, letting him go. He watched as the two men silently conversed before Aragorn leaned their heads together for an extended period. It got the king’s shoulders to drop before Boromir left the room.

Aragorn reached into one of the cabinets nearby, pulling out a cloth. He dipped it into the basin, soaking it in the warm water that held hot stones at the bottom.

Aragorn playfully tugged on the boy’s shirt, getting a small giggle. “Can you, please?”

Frodo opened his tunic, wrinkling his nose at all the grime on his skin. Aragorn moved slowly before he touched the hobbit. He moved the cloth in slow but firm movements, cutting through the dirt and ash. Frodo watched silently as he did so, moving his limbs to assist as much as possible.

Aragorn went down to his hands, going over each finger except for the bandaged one that ached to the bone if he even twitched.

The man paused as his charge whined in pain. “What is it?” he whispered, dropping the rag in the basin and hands at the ready.

“It hurts. Badly. And I still don’t remember why.” Frodo’s eyes stung.

Aragorn went to his knees. “Shhhh, shhhh. I know. It’s broken, love. That is why it pains you so harshly.”

Frodo looked off to the side. “Can you continue?”

Aragorn wanted him to just keep talking to him, bearing all his fears and heartaches, but he did as he wished. He brought the rag back to his body, cleaning him until he reached the waistband of his trousers, just waiting. He’d wait all day for his little one. Frodo eventually shook his head, turning his head a bit. This was already enough for his body to handle let alone his mind.

Aragorn nodded before dropping the rag back into the basin. His large hands moved his body around to lay down with his head hanging over the edge. Frodo closed his eyes in preparation for the water to rush over his scalp. But something felt wrong, it had him shaking.

Aragorn gave a soft grumble in question, looking down at the hobbit.

Frodo just gave a jerky nod.

Aragorn should’ve known better. 

He dipped the cup into the water while holding Frodo’s head with his other hand. He carefully poured it over his head but as soon as the water touched, Frodo jumped away.

He gave a terrified yell, scrambling away on the ground. Aragorn froze as watched the boy back himself into the wall, his curls dripping onto the floor. He rocked back and forth, sobbing into his knees. 

Aragorn’s heart smashed into the floor. “God, little one.” He walked to the hobbit in shambles. Crashing to his knees, he kept his hands to himself.

Frodo started muttering under his breath. “Dead. They’re all dead. Don’t, I don’t want to be dragged under.”

Aragorn ignored the hot streak of tears going down his face. “Who’s dragging you under?”

Frodo stared over his shoulder. “Kings. Humans.”

Aragorn couldn’t connect it. He honestly didn't want to at the moment. “Please, let me hold you.”

Frodo crawled into his lap at that, crying into his chest. Aragorn sighed heavily as they sat on the floor, protecting him from any harm that would come his way. He gently dried the curls with the sleeves of his tunic.

Footsteps sounded outside. Aragorn hid his eyes away by pressing his nose into Frodo’s hair. No one deserved to see this moment of vulnerability from both of them. At least, only a limited number of people.

A figure sat in front of Aragorn, just silent. 

Aragorn peeked and saw Boromir.

The Gondorian ran the back of his finger over one of Fordo’s hands. Frodo flipped it and held it tight.

Frodo pulled away, chest still twitching with sobs. 

Aragorn petted his hair back while Boromir murmured soft words.

“What did you see?” Aragorn whispered.

Frodo whined once again. “I don’t know.” He could feel his body and mind rapidly getting exhausted and drained and nearly fussy. How embarrassing. “A river of sorts. Skeletons in the water.”

Boromir gave him a smile. “Why don’t we get you settled, hm? Does that sound nice?”

Frodo nodded. Aragorn lifted him off the ground and carried him to the bed.

Boromir dragged the covers back, and Aragorn slid the boy into place.

“Where are the others?” Frodo asked, swiping his sleeve over his eyes. Aragorn’s hands intercepted and his thumbs swept over his cheeks until they were almost dry.

“With Legolas,” Aragorn said, voice rough.

Frodo looked up and frowned. His small fingers brushed against his protector’s cheek. “You’re crying,” he whispered, and both men could hear the worry.

“I’m worried,” Aragorn answered honestly. From the moment he met them, he strived to build their relationship on that precedent, and he wasn’t about to stop now. “But right now, you need to rest, and we’ll bring the others in to see you later.”

Frodo rested on the pillows. Before he could even ask, Aragorn tapped his chin with a small smile.

“We’re not going anywhere.”

Frodo shut his eyes and slowed his breathing down. The two men started moving, unaware their charge wasn’t fully asleep.

“You’re allowed to break,” Boromir advised.

Aragorn tossed him a scorned look. “I’m a king, and kings don’t have that luxury.”

“I’m aware I’m not your elf. I’m not attuned to you in that regard the way he is. But I’m still here for you, you stubborn bastard. I’d rather have my king show emotion to his confidants than to have none at all.”

Frodo had to keep quiet as he saw Aragorn crumble before his very eyes. His rock. His unmovable guide. His protector from the first night they met, asking for nothing in return.

Aragorn dropped his head to the captain’s shoulder, his own back shaking. Boromir tugged him into a tight hug, whispering soft words in his ear.

Frodo knew this wasn’t met for his eyes. He turned into the pillow, trying to ignore the way his body begged and pleaded for him to move out of such a vulnerable position. He didn't understand.

Two weights pressing down on the bed stirred him awake after he didn’t know how long. He leaned into the touch at his back and held onto the hand of the one in front of him. He was too tired to distinguish who. He just needed to sleep for a week or so and maybe everything would be okay.