The Ringbearer had a wide bed in Minas Tirith in which she never lay. When the King had called her back from death's brink by his will and his love, he bore her himself into Minas Tirith, seated before him upon his saddle and cradled in his arms. Samwise paced steadyingly by her side, Merry and Pervinca tall at her back, as Aragorn himself led them into the house prepared for them. That first night, facing their beds, Froda and Sam shared a single instant's glance before he tugged the oversized pillow down from hers, and she laughed as she made him let her help carry it over to his. There they curled up between those pillows like bolsters, and she slept in his arms as she had upon leaves and stone and ash and grass all throughout their journey.
The next night, after seeing Sam well content with Elves singing to him, Froda lingered after the feast until she saw her kin and Faramir bear Sam off laughing; then, when the King slipped away she stepped after him, tucking her hand within the breadth of his. He favored her with the broad uncomplicated grin he'd shown too few times upon their travels together, his hand enveloping hers with gently protective strength. "Good evening," he greeted her, and she smiled in her turn.
"Lovely," she answered him, "and not done yet."
Aragorn's eyes widened and softened, shining deep blue like a calm evening sky, and he led her by quiet dim passages to his own bedchamber, where a single lamp laid warm light upon his tome-heaped table and wide bed. There he knelt before her, folding his hands around her as he had when bidding her farewell on Amon Hen, and asked her carefully, "Froda daughter of Drogo, what would you have of me tonight?"
Froda smiled, and leaned forward to lay her answer upon his wide soft lips. He caught a quick breath through his nose, surprise tensing his fingers around hers, but then he sighed and tipped his head and joined the kiss in earnest, and oh, the breadth of his mouth, the soft strange rasp of beard, the hesitant flicker of his tongue over her lips, the sweep like flying when he gathered her up and lifted her effortlessly, whirling her around and laying her upon his bed. Froda moaned soft encouragement and Aragorn answered with a broken hungry sound and an encompassing kiss, his flexing tongue filling her mouth and how she wished for him to fill her up so, brimful and overflowing with delight.