This fic was a pain in the butt. Honestly. *Stares in amazement at the screen* One week. One whole week, almost a week and a half I spent on this thing. I know that's not *that* long, but just the struggle with my Plot Bunnies (who only dropped the ideas off and then skedaddled to who knows where leaving me without any words with which to *build* the stories for the ideas they gave me) made it seem so much longer. That and life *sigh*. Hopefully, this next week will be better.
Anyhoodles, I'm not *entirely* happy with this story. The ending seems a bit... forced somehow. But it's 1:04am, and I want to go to bed and not have to deal with this or Plot Bunnies for the next few hours. And so here we are. :D I hope you all will excuse any grammatical mistakes or plot holes (unless they are major in which case PLEASE let me know, and I will fix them as soon as I have the mental capacities with which to understand the mistakes and/or holes).
The big paragraphs in italics are things that happened before Gandalf and Bilba arrived in Rivendell or right at their arrival. I was having the hardest time with how to write the past tense of a past tense, and that seemed the best way to fix that without me pulling out all my hair. :/ I may love English, but tenses and I are going to end up in an alley somewhere fighting at one point in my life, I just know it.
The plot line for this story was kindly suggested by AustralianRanger012. So thank you, Jess! I hope this lives up to your expectations. :D If you're looking for some AMAZING LOTR stories to read (or Avenger stories), you should definitely go check hers out. They truly are works of art.
Disclaimer: Don't own anything except the words of the story (and possibly Bilba in a way?). Either way, I'm sure that if zombies were real, Tolkien would be knocking down my door trying to enact revenge for this butchering of his world. *shudders at that image*
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One week. That's how short a time span it had taken for his world to fall apart. A part of him couldn't believe that it was that small. He felt like eons had passed.
Bilba had not been worried when the coughing first started. She had laughed off his worry, telling him that he was stressing over nothing.
"It's a simple fall cold, Olorin." She said after he asked yet again if she shouldn't see the healer. "We mortals get them regularly with the turn of the seasons. It will pass in a few days. It's nothing to fret about." She placed her hand on his and squeezed it gently. "Please. Don't worry."
He had tried not to. He himself had no experience with illness, except in the passing contact he had had with men over the years. It was insufficient, however, to give him enough knowledge to accurately judge the truth of his wife's statement. And so he had trusted her.
He knew he shouldn't be mad at her. If he were honest with himself, he couldn't be mad at her - not for this. He knew that she had believed it to be only a simple cold at the time. But, looking down at her still form engulfed by the too-big bed, he could not help but desire for something to blame.
He reached out to brush golden-brown curls from her forehead. They lacked the luster they usually held. Sweat had matted the strands together, and it lay limp against the pillow. He couldn't help but draw the parallel between the lack of life in those usually bouncing curls to the lack of effervescence in their owner.
One week. That's how long it had taken for the "simple fall cold" to compound into a fever and then into a rash.
"Scarlatina." The healer said after he called him to check on her. "It's not usually deadly. However, she's going to need strict bedrest and as many liquids as you can get her to drink. I've left an oil tincture on her bedside table. Mix 5 drops of it into a bowl of warm water and use that to wash the rash each day. It will help with the itchiness. Other than that, it must simply run its course. If she stays in bed, she should be better within two weeks."
He snorted scornfully at the memory of the healer's optimistic words. It had taken all of 3 days for the fever to worsen to such a state that he feared for his wife's life. She did not fall into delirium, which he was thankful for. He could not bear even the thought of seeing her and yet knowing that she was not there.
"It will pass soon." She whispered to him late one night as he sat by her bedside. Though he could do nothing for her except offer her tea, water, and some broth, Bilba said it comforted her when he was close. She turned her face to cough harshly into her arm. The effort left her winded. She sagged back against the pillows, eyes fluttering as she fought to keep them open.
"The healer said you were supposed to get better, not worse." He countered.
"Give..give it time, my love. We do not get better in a day. Our bodies take time to heal." Once again, Bilba was stopped by a coughing fit.
"You need to stop talking, Bilba. It is taxing you. Rest, please." He leaned down and kissed her brow. "Rest so you can get better."
She nodded and slipped her hand into his own. He stayed by her side until she fell into a fitful slumber. Then he slowly extricated himself and went to make plans.
On the fifth day of the fever, he finally lost patience. Bilba was not getting better. In fact, her fever continued to hold steady at its near-dangerously high temperature, and she continued to lose strength and weight.
He wrapped her in the warmest clothes she owned and then bundled her into two blankets in preparation for the journey. He did not have time to travel by wagon. Bilba's greatest chance lay in getting to Rivendell - and to Elrond's healing abilities - as quickly as possible. And that meant horseback.
It took them 10 days to travel to Rivendell. Throughout the entire journey, Gandalf continued to feel Bilba slipping further and further away from him. He knew Mandos's hold was growing stronger and that if he was too late there would be nothing that could be done to stop Bilba from slipping into the Vala's halls.
By the time he reached Rivendell, he was a mess. Bilba's breathing had taken on a wet rattle during their journey. Despite his best attempts (never before had he been more grateful to Cirdan for the gift of the Ring of Fire), Biba had still gotten chilled on the journey. Her skin was pale against the blue of the blankets she was wrapped in, all except for the rash which had continued to spread across her face, neck, chest, and arms.
Elrond had taken one look and ushered both of them to the healing rooms. There, he had spent the next two days doing everything in his power to lessen the hold the illness had on the small hobbit. Nothing helped however, and Bilba continued to deteriorate.
A gentle knock on the door pulled him from his memories. He slowly lifted his head. "Come in."
The door opened and Elrond walked in. He came over to stand beside Gandalf, stooping to check Bilba's temperature. He frowned as he felt her still much too hot forehead.
"Her temperature has not changed at all, and the fluid is still building in her lungs. The chest tube isn't helping." Gandalf stated. "She cannot take much more of this."
"I know, my friend." Elrond's answer was gentle, but hidden within was an undercurrent of deep pain. Gandalf did not need to think deeply to know that Elrond was mourning with him. He, too, had had to watch the love of his fade without being able to help her. "I'm sorry. I've tried everything I know. Not even Vilya's power has had any effect. I fear that she is in the hands of the Valar."
The news was a knife to his heart. Throughout the past two days, he had managed to keep his hope alive, to believe that one of the treatments they were trying would work. But the finality in Elrond's tone destroyed what small amount of it there was left. Tears slipped down his cheeks as he turned back to his wife.
Elrond placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently, "Do not despair, Mithrandir. While she still draws breath there is hope. Elladan and I are still searching through a few of the oldest books we have. We may yet find something."
Gandalf could only nod his understanding as Elrond once more exited the room. His hold on Bilba's hand increased dramatically. He had to remind himself that he was much stronger than she for fear of accidentally hurting her.
As the hours passed and early morning crept onto them, Bilba's condition continued to decrease. Her breathing was so weak, it was all but none existent. Elrond had come in three times, using the power of Vilya to lend her his strength. However, it never lasted long, and each time the energy wore off, she was left weaker than she had been before Elrond helped. The fourth time Elrond came in, Gandalf simply turned him away. Despite the fact that it broke his heart to do so, he could not bear to see how weak she became afterwards. It was taking her from him too quickly.
"Please, Elrond. It's not helping." His shoulders were bowed under what seemed the weight of the entire world. "If - if it is Eru's will that she leaves, nothing we do will help and I do not want to cause her stress."
Elrond sighed, but nodded. "Do you want me to sit with you?"
"No - please." Gandalf whispered. His gaze never left Bilba's face, scared that if he looked away she would slip away without his notice. "I - I need to be alone."
"Very well. We are close by if you need anything."
The door closed. Gandalf sat in silence for a few minutes before kissing the hand he held.
"Please." He whispered, lowering his forehead so that it rested on top of the hands that clasped his wife's. "Please, Eru. Don't take her. She is all I have."
He could not bear the thought of losing Bilba. While finding a wife had been the last thing he had expected to do while fulfilling his mission on Middle Earth, Gandalf couldn't imagine life without her. They had been married for almost a year, and it was the best year he had ever lived. She completed him, made him whole, made him better. Yet, he would give it all up in a heartbeat if it meant she would become well again.
"If-" He had to stop and swallow a few times, the lump in his throat having grown too big for him to continue talking. "If this is a punishment... If we have offended you in some way - either by our union or some other way, please, let me bear the punishment. I am the one to blame. Bilba has committed no crime. All she has done is… is love a man who in no way deserves her affection."
He lowered his head further. What he was planning on saying next was ripping his heart from his chest. "I beg you, let her be spared. Even if it requires her to lose all memory of me -" He clenched his jaw. "of us. Of what we were and what we are now, I will pay that price. I will leave and never go near the Shire again. Please, Eru. I will do anything. Please, just save my wife."
The tears he had been holding in for so long finally spilled over onto his cheeks. He covered his mouth with one of his hands to muffle the sound as he finally broke down sobbing.
He had been crying for almost an hour, when he felt another presence enter the room. He didn't look up, sure that it was simply Elrond coming by once more to check on them. However, when he felt a hand land on his head, he knew that assumption was incorrect.
"Be at peace, Olorin." A gentle voice filled the room.
Gandalf started, turning around at the sound of the familiar tones. Manwe himself stood beside him, looking at him with a gentle smile.
"My - My lord." Gandalf hurried to stand up, wiping at his eyes and bowing deeply. "What - what are you - How? Why?" He knew he was stuttering, but couldn't seem to get his brain engaged enough to actually formulate any cogent anything.
Instead of being insulted, Manwe simply chuckled, "Peace, Young One. I come bearing a message from Eru."
That statement immediately stopped the spinning Gandalf's mind was currently engaged in. He swallowed deeply and nodded. "I… I understand. May," He had to blink in order to stop the tears from falling once more. "May I say… say goodbye? Please? I will - I will leave right afterwards, I swear."
Manwe's eyes darkened a bit, and he raised one eyebrow, "You presume much, Olorin. You are not to be parted from your beloved. Eru has sent me to heal her."
The words sent Gandalf's ears ringing, and he collapsed into the chair behind him. "She is to be healed?" He asked hoarsely.
"Yes. Healed and with her memories remaining fully intact. Eru was and is not punishing you, Dear One. He is strengthening your bond through this test."
Gandalf could only watch in silent amazement and slight disbelief as his master walked to the other side of the bed. Manwe placed his hand on Bilba's forehead, closing his eyes. After a few minutes, Bilba's breathing deepened, and the rattling caused by the fluids in her lungs disappeared. Her skin returned once more to its natural shade and the rash vanished as if it had never been there. She murmured, sinking into a more comfortable position on the bed. Manwe smiled as he opened his eyes and withdrew his hand.
"You will have a long and bountiful life, Bilba Baggins." He whispered. "The blessing of Eru and of the Valar be upon you, Child of the Earth."
Then he turned back to Gandalf who bowed his head deeply, unable this time to stop the flood of tears.
"Thank you, my lord. This is more than I deserve."
"It is no more nor less than you deserve. Or do you presume to know more than Eru himself?" Manwe questioned, but there was a twinkle in his eye. "My words were not idle, Olorin. Your wife has indeed found favor with the Creator, and with the Valar. Your life together will be blessed. May it strengthen you in your fight against the Evil One."
Before Gandalf could say anything else, Manwe - with one last smile - disappeared. Gandalf sat looking at the spot, still not fully believing all that had just transpired. However, a noise from behind him had him turning with joy.
"I... like him. He seemed... extremely nice."
"Bilba!"
Her eyes still held exhaustion, but they were open and they were clear. Gandalf gathered her into his arms, pressing her close and closing his eyes.
"I told you... I only needed some… some time to get over it." Bilba stated weakly, leaning her head against his chest and sighing softly.
Gandalf chuckled wetly and sniffed, "Indeed, Lalaithnin (my laughter). Please, take no offense when I say I hope there is never an opportunity where we need wait for your body to get over it again."
"I agree, Olorin." She leaned up and kissed his cheek. "I am sorry for worrying you."
"You are better now, Bilba." Gandalf pressed a kiss to her forehead in return. "That is more than enough for me."
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I apologize for any OOCness on Gandalf or Manwe's part in the ending. For Gandalf, I figured I'm allowed a bit of leeway what with the emotional mess he's dealing with at the moment and the fact that he's running on empty in the sleep department. Maia he may be but they still require sleep in my opinion.
And I couldn't help but throw Manwe in there. I know it's slightly more on the side of "unrealistic," but in my mind Manwe is effectively like a dad to Gandalf, and so I couldn't pass up the opportunity for him to come in and be "Daddy" and fix Gandalf's problem. And he's come to love Bilba as well (she's able to help curtail Gandalf's impulsiveness after all ;) ) and so doesn't want to see anything bad happen to her.
I hope you all liked it. Thanks for taking the time to read this story. Until next time!