Disclaimers: I do not own The Lord of the Rings. That belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien. I only own the plot, original characters, etc. References to musical numbers and songs belongs to their respected owners.
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This fanfiction story was sparked by a conversation over on the Writer's Guild forum. Hope it works out well. Other inspiration came from a "Boy Meets World" episode.
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Frodo Baggins normally wasn't this sick. But being in Buckland, and with so many of his cousins, aunts and uncles around, how else was he not to catch a cold? He hacked and coughed like there was no tomorrow. At least he didn't hurt himself with a spoon… no, wait. He did, and he collapsed on the floor with an aching cough. No, this was not look good at all…
Oh, but the door opening to bring Pearl Took his way might cause a little… danger. He laughed himself silly inside, thinking of how many mischievous things he could do to her… or not do. Well, time to figure things out.
"Frodo, you're sick. Would you like me to put some hot water on?" Pearl asked.
"That won't be necessary," Frodo said, trying to sit up. He did his best to brush off Pearl's attempts at dabbing a washcloth over his forehead. "I said I'm fine."
"That's not what Merry said this morning." Pearl answered. "He said you couldn't spend the day without me."
"Well, lucky him," Frodo said. He pounded his chest. "Oh yeah. This cough is horrendous. You might want to call the doctor. I may have just picked up the kissing disease."
"Frodo, who have you kissed? Who?" Pearl asked.
Frodo grinned. "I'm joking."
"No, you're running a fever," Pearl said, touching his forehead. "You are burning up."
"Like the song says, 'never trust a sick person with the kissing disease'," Frodo said.
"You are making this difficult for me to cure you," Pearl said. "Would you like some water? No, really. I think you'll like this."
"Oh, you're so sweet. You're… ahhhhh!" Frodo screamed as a tiny drop of hot water slipped on his arm.
"Oops!" Pearl said, sheepish. She grabbed another wash cloth. "That hurt's, doesn't it?"
"Here comes the comfort part." He bowed his head over to her. "Now you can sing me a song. About this sick hobbit who has this nursemaid who always takes care of him… and loves him for it."
"You are feeling under the weather, Frodo. You're not normally this cheeky." Pearl said.
"When was I ever cheeky?" He asked.
"Do we really need to go over this," she said, tapping her foot.
Frodo's grinned faded fast. He wasn't getting out of this. Giving in, he told her, "Fine. Take care of me. Just be careful with that water. I've already got a burned spot on my arm."
"Very good, Frodo. Now drink this," Pearl said, dousing his mouth with pink liquid. It was surprisingly good, but caused Frodo to feel sleepy. "This remedy will help cure you of the common cold, which you have. Go to sleep now, Frodo…"
And he did, even when he was seeing stars…
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In two weeks' time, Frodo was back on his feet. For being nineteen years old, he was actually excited to see his temporary nursemaid, Pearl Took. And for Frodo himself, courting her for however long a time might be interesting… well, it was interesting in the moment.
And one thing that still retained his figure: Frodo was, as ever, a cheeky gentle-hobbit.
The End.
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Thanks for reading. :)