Title: A Cave Troll's Spear (11?)
Author: easterlily41482
Pairing: Frodo/Aragorn; implied slash mpreg
Rating: PG-PG13.
Summary: (For Lily Baggins). An unexpected stab by a Cave Troll's spear in Moria causes more than just a mark.
Disclaimer: I don't own it. I make no money from this.

---

The following morning, Strider woke everyone up early.

"Come on, get up! We have to get moving. We cannot dally," Strider ordered, turning toward the hobbits. "Samwise, fix up a quick breakfast. Merry, Pippin, help me pack up the camp."

The quickest thing that Sam could think of was to re-heat the stew from the night before. He set a small bowl in front of Frodo while Merry and Pippin divided the greater part of their packs amongst the four of them.

"Mr. Frodo?" asked Sam. "Are you feeling okay? You're looking a bit green."

Frodo looked up, trying to ignore the nausea that was building up in his throat and gazed at Sam. "I'll be alright, Sam. It's just the wound that is bothering me."

With a worried expression, Sam nodded and went to deliver breakfast to the others, trying to busy himself instead of revealing Frodo's condition to the others. After a short while, Sam returned with his own small bowl and sat down next to Frodo and hurriedly ate it.

When Strider noticed that Frodo had barely touched his breakfast and that the other hobbits had almost finished eating, he walked up to Frodo and whispered in a soft tone, "Hurry up, Frodo. We've got to get moving." He fixed his eyes on Sam. "Gather up whatever food we have left and set them in the packs."

"Right away, Strider, sir," stated Sam, getting up, while Strider returned back to the packing.

Sam then looked over at Frodo, taking note that his master had hardly eaten.

"Mr. Frodo, you haven't touched your breakfast. Are you sure you are alright?"

Frodo looked down and rubbed his stomach. "I'm sorry, Sam. I just feel a little sick. Maybe too soon after the stabbing. I'll be alright. Don't worry." He handed the nearly full bowl back to Sam.

Sam took the bowl, looking doubtful at Frodo. "Alright, Mr. Frodo, but you know you should eat to keep your strength up. You're eating for two, now."

Frodo looked at Sam. "I know, Sam. I'll eat something at lunchtime."

---

The camp was pack and they were ready to set out. Frodo stood up feeling just a bit shaky on his feet. He looked around to make sure no one saw him stumbling. He reached down to pick up his pack when a dizzy spell overtook him.

"Mr. Frodo!"

The next thing he knew, he was looking up into Sam's worried face.

"Mr. Frodo?" Sam looked up and called out to Strider as Strider immediately approached the hobbits. He lightly placed his hand over Frodo's brow.

"You've got a fever, Frodo." Strider looked into Frodo's glassy eyes, then turned around. "Merry, Pippin! Unpack, Bill." He then turned back to Frodo. "You'll ride, Bill."

But as soon as he began to walk the opposite direction he heard Frodo state. "I will not!"

He turned to face the stubborn hobbit still lying on the ground. Frodo's will softened a bit under Strider's strong glare. "I'll not ride while my friends walk."

Strider sighed heavily. "You are too weak to walk, Frodo. You will only do yourself more harm. Your options are ride the pony or I'll carry you on my back."

Frodo weighed these two options for a short second. He then lowered his gaze. "I'll ride the pony."

"Good," replied Strider as he went to supervise Merry and Pippin.

---

Soon they were off in a southerly direction leisurely and carefully. Sam led the pony and despite Bill's gentle trends, Frodo's nausea continued to build in his throat.

"Sam," stated Frodo suddenly. "Please. Stop!"

The next thing Sam knew was that his master was leaning against the horse and experiencing dry heaves.

TBC