Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Frodo/Aragorn
Summary: MPREG in post-Quest Minas Tirith.
A/N: Title taken from a poem by J.R.R. Tolkien called "I Sit and Think." Also, Sam's Elvish name means "Hope Unquenchable."
Disclaimer: Frodo and all recognisable characters are the property of the Estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. No offence is intended, nor profit made.

The low moaning reverberated through the halls of the Houses of Healing, suddenly swelling to a hoarse shriek that then sank to silence. The sounds were absorbed into the gray stones of the main hall like a dying butterfly sinking into a black pool. The Healers who were not involved with the delivery paused in concern, looking at each other and shaking their heads sadly.

"Where is the King?" whispered one, younger and braver than the others. "He should be here! It is his child after all, and he may never see the Hobbit alive again."

His companion's widening eyes warned the youth to be cautious. Turning his head, the boy was shocked to see the great Wizard himself standing in the door to the Royal Consort's room. "Mithrandir, I - I beg your forgiveness. Please, I had no right," the boy stuttered, halting at the man's raised hand.

Wearily, Gandalf said, "There is no need to apologize for speaking the truth. The King should be here, and he will be as soon as the messenger can find him and return him to Minas Tirith. Now, please, lad - what is your name?"

"Ferimond, my Lord."

"Ferimond, I need you to run with greatest speed to the dispensary; tell the apothecary to give you more dried athelas, and return here quicker even than you left. Our best efforts are not helping the Ringbearer, and we need more potent medicine to ease the pain."

"At once, my Lord!" Ferimond disappeared into the shadows, as Gandalf turned back into the birthing room.

Faramir waited in the anteroom, trying to shut out the sounds of hoarse panting and muted moans coming from the inner chamber. He paced from one end of the room to the other, wishing helplessly that there were some action he could take that would help Frodo through this.

Gandalf walked in and sank onto one of the benches with a sigh. Faramir sat next to him and asked, "How fares Frodo?"

"Badly. These next few hours determine whether either he or his child will survive."

Swallowing hard, Faramir said, "Can you do nothing to ease him?"

"What I can do, I am doing. In the short time I've been here I've been able to stop the worst of the bleeding, but my power here is limited. At this point his hope lies in Aragorn's return. He needs not only the King's healing powers, but his love and support. Where is Aragorn, Faramir?"

Faramir arose, conflicted, then turned to face the Wizard's stern gaze. "I was sworn to absolute secrecy, Mithrandir. The Healers thought Frodo's time was still weeks in the future. Once it became clear that Frodo was - ailing and Aragorn could not seem to make him better, Aragorn sent his message summoning you and left the city. He asked me to handle all official business until his return. He had no notion of Frodo going into labor so soon, or he would not have left. I expect him within the week…"

"Frodo does not have a week. He may not last the night. I say again, Steward, WHERE IS THE KING?"

As the thunder of his voice shook the room, Gandalf stood, a pillar of white flame.

Fighting the urge to fall to his knees, Faramir said, "He is..."

A rough voice cracked to a whisper behind him, "He is here."

"Aragorn!" gasped Faramir in relief. He stopped in surprise at the sight of his King, covered with mud from head to foot, dressed in weather-beaten ranger's garb, and stumbling with obvious exhaustion.

"They said at the Citadel that his time is upon him, that he may already be delivered or - or dead. How does he?"

Gandalf reached forward and grasped Aragorn's arm. "Go take off your filthy outer clothes and boots, wash all your exposed skin and then put on a clean Healer's robe. The crisis is upon us, and we cannot risk your bringing filth into the birthing room."

As he tugged Aragorn forward, Gandalf froze in mid-step and stared at the small figure revealed standing behind the King.

Faramir's jaw dropped in disbelief as he heard a familiar calm voice say, "Help get me cleaned up, too, Mr. Gandalf, and take me to Mr. Frodo. I've had a hand in a couple of birthings myself now. I figure it's time to put it to good use."

Faramir met Gandalf's eyes and was warmed to the core to see a hint of the old twinkle there.

"I believe we have our marching orders, Steward," smiled the old wizard. "Harthad Uluithiad."

As he remembered the meaning of Sam's Elvish name, Faramir felt for the first time a stirring of possibility.

Gandalf watched as the Healers finished with Frodo, placing the last stitches and tightening the bandages about his abdomen. Though the amount of blood splashed everywhere was grotesque, Gandalf had eyes only for the radiant look on the hobbit's face, as Aragorn wrapped Frodo's arms about their son and supported both of them by holding Frodo gently from behind.

Although there had been anxious moments and cries of agony, once Frodo had laid eyes on Samwise Gamgee a notable change had come over him. Calm had settled over him like still water in a sheltered valley, undisturbed and deep.

Sam took Frodo's hand gently and lovingly. Gandalf was shocked to find tears blurring his eyes as if he saw anew Frodo awakening in Rivendell, Sam coaxing him back to life and energy. Sam whispered into Frodo's ear, and Frodo seemed to brace himself once more for the task that had seemingly been about to take his life just minutes before.

Aragorn, holding Frodo's other hand, placed one kiss in its palm and moved to the end of the bed where the Healers waited with the scalpels.

Gandalf watched the small group gathered about Frodo, cooing and clucking over the baby. All the turmoil and pain seemed forgotten now. Frodo looked almost transparent, as if all that had happened to him up to now had stripped away any earthly dross and left only ethereal spirit. The purity of his joy made Gandalf smile too; it seemed only right after all the suffering endured by this noble creature that there be some recompense.

Gandalf remembered with what distress Frodo had come to him to divulge his condition a few months ago.

"Is this an abomination, Gandalf, a final punishment by the Ring to curse me for my weakness? Surely something so unnatural is caused by my corruption by the Ring?"

Gandalf picked his words carefully, but he spoke truthfully and from the heart. "How can this be anything but a miracle from the Valar? Is this not likelier to be a reward for the suffering and loss so stalwartly endured by you and by Aragorn on behalf of Middle-earth? For Sauron had no power to create, but only to twist and distort what had already been created. Do you think that any fruit of the union between you and Aragorn could come from such a place of evil? Do you have faith in the goodness and power of your love? Rather, is this not a sign that the line of the High King will not end but continue as a blessing from Eru?"

With relief, Gandalf saw Frodo consider each question, nodding his acceptance of Gandalf's reasoning. Thank goodness for Frodo's fine mind, which could always be engaged by the pursuit of truth, and for the fortitude that made him willing to shoulder a burden for the good of others.

Gandalf insisted that he himself, as a representative of The Powers, be the one to make the announcement of the impending birth to the populace. He emphasized to all that the birth was a blessing upon Gondor, proof that this union was approved by the Valar as their assurance of the future and unbroken line of kings. He knew the danger of such a strategy if the birth should fail and be seen as a rejection by the Valar, but the people seemed convinced and accepted the advent with rejoicing.

As he looked upon the little family entwined on top of the birthing bed, Gandalf's eyes were dazzled. He wondered how awesome a being this child of light would become, with parents of such incandescence.

"What will you name the child?" asked Gandalf.

Smiling down at the babe in his arms, Frodo said, "Anárion, after the brother of Isildur and the hero of Gondor."

Aragorn nuzzled his cheek on Frodo's tousled curls and murmured, "Son of the Sun."

Sam put a firm hand under Frodo's elbow as they strolled in the spring sunshine, rejoicing to see his friend walking on his own two feet. The emergency delivery had been devastating enough, but the annual illness from Shelob's poison that followed directly upon that had caused Frodo to be bed-ridden for several weeks. In all that time he only had the strength to eat a little broth and hold Anárion nestled against his side in the crook of his body. During his waking hours he wanted to let the babe out of his sight only long enough to be fed by the wet-nurse and bathed; since Frodo seemed to gain strength in the presence of his son, Aragorn permitted this.

Sam smiled to himself; the long period of recovery had actually worked on their behalf, as he and Aragorn toiled feverishly to complete the surprise Aragorn had longed planned for this day - the first anniversary of the Royal Vows.

"Sam, I still don't understand how you happened to arrive at Minas Tirith in time for Anárion's birth. Aragorn has been very mysterious about it."

"Why, there's no mystery about it, Mr. Frodo. Once the King was certain sure that you were expecting a wee one, he sent a messenger asking me to set out for the city so that I could be here in good time. When it looked like you were a bit ahead of schedule, he set off lickety-split to meet me on the path and ride me back himself. I wasn't far from the city by that time."

"But, Sam, I know you are serving as the Mayor of Hobbiton now. Aragorn should not have uprooted you just to keep me company."

"Now, Mr. Frodo, are you sayin' that you weren't glad to see me? That would hurt my feelings if I didn't know for a fact that 'twouldn't be the truth!"

Frodo laughed softly and leaned his head briefly on his friend's shoulder. "I could never tell you such a lie, Sam. I can't tell you how much it meant to me to hear your voice and feel your grip just at that moment; it kept me from giving up right then."

As they walked toward the palace gardens, they heard a babe's cry ahead of them. "Is Anárion waiting for us in the garden, Sam? That's a pleasant surprise."

"And the least of it, I'm hoping," replied Sam.

Before Frodo could ask him to explain himself, they walked through the garden gate into: The Shire. Frodo gasped to see riotous colors of plants he'd not seen since leaving for the Quest. Loving hands had changed a staid and formal lawn into a lush jumble of flowers and shrubs. Water sprang up in fountains and fell down in showers, and built into a hill was a smial with a green door and smoking chimneys.

"Sam! Aragorn! How did you do it!" Frodo stammered, turning round with eyes as big as dinner plates.

"Sam carefully cultivated many cuttings and potted plants to bring with him from Bag End, my love," said Aragorn's voice behind them. "He also brought some guests."

Sam gestured toward the smial door. "Come out, my darlings," he called, and couldn't help the happy laugh that bubbled out at the sight of Frodo's face when he saw Rosie walk out holding little Elanor's hand and clasping baby Frodo in her other arm.

Frodo reached out to hug Rosie and the children, then turned to Sam with glistening eyes. "Sam, I've never been so happy. I have wanted to see your children for so long! Rosie, you look more beautiful than ever. I knew ever since I forced Sam into that dance at Bilbo's party that you were the only lass for him."

Aragorn walked up and held out his arm to Frodo. "Pray let me escort you to your anniversary party, my lord. There are some few guests awaiting your arrival."

Frodo looked up at the King with a sweet smile that made Sam's heart contract; putting his arm through Aragorn's, he walked somewhat haltingly after Sam and Rosie.

Sam nodded at Aragorn and led the way to a small pavilion at the other side of the garden. Faramir and Eowyn bowed as they approached, and Frodo nodded in return. Sam thought that never had he seen one more noble than his former master.

Anárion's little crowing noises rose above a hum of male conversation, and Frodo brightened and hurried his pace. But when he saw the guests seated at the table awaiting him, Frodo stopped short.

"Hello, cousin. I wager you didn't expect to see us, did you?" asked Pippin, bouncing Anárion gently in his arms.

As Frodo took in Merry, Gimli, Legolas and Gandalf, he trembled and turned to Aragorn. "You have gathered the Fellowship for us again, haven't you?"

"I have called our friends together to rejoice with us. You have been restored to us, and you and I celebrate the first anniversary of our oath-sharing with the blessed gift of this child. I wanted our friends to be with us for this." Aragorn sank to one knee before Frodo. "I never knew how much you meant to me until you were almost taken from us. Your generous heart and self-sacrifice saved Gondor; your loving nature has enriched my life beyond measure. Your humility does not allow you to acknowledge these things, but I say to you now and forever, Frodo Baggins, that I vow to love none other than you, and swear that you are the most worthy of worthies. The Valar protect you, and when our lives are over I pray they will let our souls pass beyond the great sleep to dwell together. For I desire nothing more than this."

One by one, the assembled friends rose and lifted their goblets. "So let it be."

Sam circled Rosie's waist with one arm and squeezed. No matter how fancy the language, Strider just said how Sam himself felt about his Rosie. And, seeing as the King put it that way, Sam could finally feel just fine about Mr. Frodo living outside of the Shire.

The End