Title: Two Clouds at Morning
Author: BellaMonte
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I own not any of the characters made reference to in this story.
Summary: Not long after coming to live with Bilbo, Frodo begins to suffer from bad headaches. As the headaches begin to grow worse, Bilbo fears that there is more his nephew's distress than he initially thought.
A/N: This story was inspired by Shirebound's challenge fic, which included a Frodo suffering from bad headaches and Bilbo there to give him comfort. It is my first Frodo Healer's fic, so please be kind and let me know what you think of it.
Any references on the treatment of headaches will be taken from confirmed medical information on causes, symptoms, etc. The drink 'willow-bark' will be used, and it is one of the earliest sources of a well known medicine, aspirin.
~*~
Bilbo puffed out an exhausted breath as he struggled to carry two sacks and a basket of food into Bag End, while at the same time reading off his list of ingredients for chestnut soup.
'Let's see, two onions thinly sliced, two carrots diced, cream, pepper,' Bilbo glanced down at the basket slipping from his fingers, checking to make sure he'd remembered all those items. Onions, carrots, cream, pepper, yes they were all there.
It would be a waste if he'd forgotten anything. He and Frodo had been invited to his cousin Dora's for supper, and he wouldn't have time to make it back to the market if he'd forgotten anything in the chestnut soup and mushroom pie he promised to bring.
"Frodo!" he called, dumping the two heavy sacks of food on the table. "I'm back!"
When no answer came, Bilbo imagined the lad must've gone out to enjoy the beautiful day. He only hoped that he would get back before they had to leave.
As he began pulling out the onions and chestnuts, he heard a weak, "I'm here, uncle," from the other room.
"So you are home!" he said, following the small voice into the den, where he found his nephew curled up on the couch. "There you are, I'd thought you'd gone out." Bilbo rounded the couch, and then paused to see that Frodo looked to be asleep. His head rested on a pillow, and his eyes were firmly closed.
"Tired, lad?" he asked, softly.
It was a bit of a surprise to see Frodo napping during the day, that was something he would usually do.
If Frodo was too tired to help him simmer the mushrooms, that was all right. Bilbo knew he'd had an exhausting last few weeks, consisting of a trip to Brandy Hall and then returning to visit several of Bilbo's relatives in Hobbiton, all who had been eager to meet his young nephew that had only been living with him a few months. It didn't take much to fall in love with the lad.
Bilbo didn't blame Frodo one bit for taking a nap before they went out again that evening.
Reaching for a quilt on a nearby chair, Bilbo began to drape it over him when the boy's eyes opened just a bit. "No," he whispered, his voice sounding parched. "Please don't, uncle. I'm not uncle."
"Frodo, what's wrong?" he asked, crouching down so that he was at eye level with the boy. Brushing back the dark curls that shadowed his eyes, he placed a warm palm on his brow. Well, he wasn't feverish, Bilbo thought with relief, though he did look very pale and peaky. "Are you feeling all right?"
"No. It's my head...it really hurts."
"Does it," Bilbo said, his voice soft with concern.
"Mmm-hmm," he murmured, burrowing his head deeper into the pillow.
"Aw lad, I'm sorry. Here, let me get you a drink," he offered, rising up from beside the couch. "It contains willow bark, and it's known to help with headaches."
But Frodo shook his head, the movement causing him to grimace.
"No, uncle, please don't. I hate that stuff, I've had it before. It's tastes so awful."
"I know my boy, but it can lessen the pain."
Frodo grimaced again, Bilbo didn't know whether out of fresh pain, or the thought of the bitter drink, but he nodded.
With a heavy sigh, Bilbo went back to the kitchen and began to prepare the drink. He wasn't going to push Frodo to go to Dora's if he wasn't feeling well, but he really didn't want to upset Dora with their absence. Cancelled plans was one of Dora's greatest peeves.
Returning with a mug of the hot liquid, he was relieved to see Frodo sitting up, though he had a hand pressed tightly against his head.
"I put some honey in it to help take out the bad taste," Bilbo said, as he continued to stir the drink. "Now where does it hurt?" he asked, sitting down beside him and placing the cooling mug in the boy's hands.
"You mean besides my head?" Frodo asked, with a faint grin.
Bilbo chuckled. "Yes, naturally that was the place in question, but where exactly? Sometimes knowing where it hurts can help figure out what caused it, and how to help it."
Frodo shrugged. "It's hurts all over, really. But mainly in the front, right behind my eyes." Again, the large, blue eyes closed painfully, and his head dropped onto Bilbo's shoulder. "It feels like the front of my head is going to explode."
Bilbo's frown deepened, and he urged the boy to take another sip. "Perhaps you've been reading too much," he said,
stroking the boy's curls, and at the same time kneading his head. "Maybe it be best to rest your eyes for a while."
Frodo agreed with another, "Mmm-hmm."
At a sudden thought, Bilbo smiled, humorously. "You know, if not for the mushrooms I bought, I'd say you were trying to get out of going to Aunt Dora's tonight for supper."
At the word 'mushrooms,' the tired blue eyes widened and he looked up at his uncle. "You're making mushroom pie?" he asked, disregarding the joke for the sake of his favorite food. He was used to Bilbo teasing him for his former reputation as a prankster in Brandy Hall. He knew his uncle had been waiting for him to resume the habit here.
"I planned to," Bilbo replied. "Aunt Dora invited us to come to supper tonight, and I offered to bring chestnut soup and mushroom pie. But we don't have to go if you're not feeling well."
For a moment, eagerness flittered across the pale face, but it was quickly replaced by pain. "I...I don't know, uncle," he said, his voice apologetic as he dropped his head on his uncle's shoulder once more.
The fact that Frodo was admitting freely to feeling badly was enough for Bilbo to understand that he was in real pain. It usually took a lot for his stubborn nephew to admit being sick. And the fact that he was passing up mushroom pie worried him more than anything. Even with his small appetite, mushroom pie was the one food Bilbo never had to cajole him to eat.
"Maybe if it doesn't hurt so much later..."
Bilbo nodded in agreement. "Yes, my boy. How about we wait it out. Your aunt doesn't want us until later anyway. Now," he added, taking the empty cup from Frodo and placing it on the table. "Let's get you to your own room."
Frodo nodded without protest as his uncle gathered him up in his arms and carried him to his bed. Laying him on the soft mattress, Bilbo drew the curtains shut so the room was as dark as possible.
"I'll just be down the hall if you need anything. Have a good rest."
Frodo mustered a weak smile as he burrowed his face deeper into the pillow.
But Frodo wasn't feeling better later. After an hour of preparing the chestnut soup and mushroom pie, Bilbo went back to check on him. If they were to make it to Dora's on time, then they would have to leave soon. To his dismay, Frodo's headache had not abated.
"You can go, uncle, I'll be all right," the boy mumbled from beneath the covers.
Bilbo shook his head, firmly. "No Frodo, I wouldn't think of it. Besides, I think she's really invited us for a chance to get to see you again. It would sort of defeat the purpose to have her boring old cousin," he said. He was relieved when Frodo laughed, lightly. "Is there anything I can get you? Some water maybe, or how about a few mouthfuls of the mushroom pie? It's just beginning to cool."
"Maybe...some more of that bark stuff?"
"Of course," Bilbo answered, smiling, though his concern was secretly growing. "Just give me a few minutes."
Back in the kitchen, Bilbo prepared some more of the drink. He didn't have much more willow bark in storage, for he didn't often get headaches, and those that he had never lasted long.
As he waited for the water to boil, he chewed on his lip, wonder what might have prompted such a bad headache. He hoped Frodo wasn't like his aunt Pimpernel, who had such a sensitive head that anything from worries over what to make for dinner, weather changes, too much light, and food could all prompt a headache. Or maybe it was nothing, and Frodo had just stayed up too late last night reading.
A sudden knock at the door broke Bilbo out of his wandering thoughts, and he opened the door to Hamfast Gamgee,
"Thank you for the firewood," Bilbo said, as Hamfast stacked the fresh logs by the door. "I don't mean to bother you so close to supper, but would you be able to run to my cousin Dora Baggins, and give her the message that Frodo and I won't be coming tonight?"
"Of course, sir. May this be the third night in a month that she's invited you over?" Mr. Gamgee asked, with a curious frown. Up until Bilbo had adopted Frodo, it had been virtually unheard of for his master to respond to dinner invitations.
"The fourth," Bilbo said, with a small grin. "Frodo's aunt's grown quite a liking to him, and I'm afraid she might be attempting to adopt him from me in a few months. Perhaps it's better we don't go tonight."
"Is everythin' all right?"
"Yes," Bilbo said, offhandedly. "It's just that Frodo's had a bad headache all afternoon, and he's not really up to going."
"Ah, I see. Did you give him willow bark? There be something that helps with head pain."
"I did. Though it doesn't seem to be helping as much as it should, for he's asked for another dosage."
Hamfast nodded. "Well, I hope he feels better 'n the mornin' sir."
"So do I," said Bilbo under his breath after bidding Hamfast a good night. It had been four months since he had adopted Frodo, and almost every night his devoted nephew had chosen to sit up with him at night, reading, while he sat and wrote by the fire. It would be hard to work tonight without his comforting presence, Bilbo thought, as he finished preparing the second cup of willow bark and headed down the hall to Frodo's room.
Bilbo paused in the doorway, and smiled in relief to see the pale face peeking out from beneath the covers, peacefully lost in sleep.
TBC
Shall I continue? I've got a plot for this story planned, but it could stand alone as a story right here. Please be my guide and tell me what to do. In other words, please read and review! :)
Author: BellaMonte
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I own not any of the characters made reference to in this story.
Summary: Not long after coming to live with Bilbo, Frodo begins to suffer from bad headaches. As the headaches begin to grow worse, Bilbo fears that there is more his nephew's distress than he initially thought.
A/N: This story was inspired by Shirebound's challenge fic, which included a Frodo suffering from bad headaches and Bilbo there to give him comfort. It is my first Frodo Healer's fic, so please be kind and let me know what you think of it.
Any references on the treatment of headaches will be taken from confirmed medical information on causes, symptoms, etc. The drink 'willow-bark' will be used, and it is one of the earliest sources of a well known medicine, aspirin.
~*~
Bilbo puffed out an exhausted breath as he struggled to carry two sacks and a basket of food into Bag End, while at the same time reading off his list of ingredients for chestnut soup.
'Let's see, two onions thinly sliced, two carrots diced, cream, pepper,' Bilbo glanced down at the basket slipping from his fingers, checking to make sure he'd remembered all those items. Onions, carrots, cream, pepper, yes they were all there.
It would be a waste if he'd forgotten anything. He and Frodo had been invited to his cousin Dora's for supper, and he wouldn't have time to make it back to the market if he'd forgotten anything in the chestnut soup and mushroom pie he promised to bring.
"Frodo!" he called, dumping the two heavy sacks of food on the table. "I'm back!"
When no answer came, Bilbo imagined the lad must've gone out to enjoy the beautiful day. He only hoped that he would get back before they had to leave.
As he began pulling out the onions and chestnuts, he heard a weak, "I'm here, uncle," from the other room.
"So you are home!" he said, following the small voice into the den, where he found his nephew curled up on the couch. "There you are, I'd thought you'd gone out." Bilbo rounded the couch, and then paused to see that Frodo looked to be asleep. His head rested on a pillow, and his eyes were firmly closed.
"Tired, lad?" he asked, softly.
It was a bit of a surprise to see Frodo napping during the day, that was something he would usually do.
If Frodo was too tired to help him simmer the mushrooms, that was all right. Bilbo knew he'd had an exhausting last few weeks, consisting of a trip to Brandy Hall and then returning to visit several of Bilbo's relatives in Hobbiton, all who had been eager to meet his young nephew that had only been living with him a few months. It didn't take much to fall in love with the lad.
Bilbo didn't blame Frodo one bit for taking a nap before they went out again that evening.
Reaching for a quilt on a nearby chair, Bilbo began to drape it over him when the boy's eyes opened just a bit. "No," he whispered, his voice sounding parched. "Please don't, uncle. I'm not uncle."
"Frodo, what's wrong?" he asked, crouching down so that he was at eye level with the boy. Brushing back the dark curls that shadowed his eyes, he placed a warm palm on his brow. Well, he wasn't feverish, Bilbo thought with relief, though he did look very pale and peaky. "Are you feeling all right?"
"No. It's my head...it really hurts."
"Does it," Bilbo said, his voice soft with concern.
"Mmm-hmm," he murmured, burrowing his head deeper into the pillow.
"Aw lad, I'm sorry. Here, let me get you a drink," he offered, rising up from beside the couch. "It contains willow bark, and it's known to help with headaches."
But Frodo shook his head, the movement causing him to grimace.
"No, uncle, please don't. I hate that stuff, I've had it before. It's tastes so awful."
"I know my boy, but it can lessen the pain."
Frodo grimaced again, Bilbo didn't know whether out of fresh pain, or the thought of the bitter drink, but he nodded.
With a heavy sigh, Bilbo went back to the kitchen and began to prepare the drink. He wasn't going to push Frodo to go to Dora's if he wasn't feeling well, but he really didn't want to upset Dora with their absence. Cancelled plans was one of Dora's greatest peeves.
Returning with a mug of the hot liquid, he was relieved to see Frodo sitting up, though he had a hand pressed tightly against his head.
"I put some honey in it to help take out the bad taste," Bilbo said, as he continued to stir the drink. "Now where does it hurt?" he asked, sitting down beside him and placing the cooling mug in the boy's hands.
"You mean besides my head?" Frodo asked, with a faint grin.
Bilbo chuckled. "Yes, naturally that was the place in question, but where exactly? Sometimes knowing where it hurts can help figure out what caused it, and how to help it."
Frodo shrugged. "It's hurts all over, really. But mainly in the front, right behind my eyes." Again, the large, blue eyes closed painfully, and his head dropped onto Bilbo's shoulder. "It feels like the front of my head is going to explode."
Bilbo's frown deepened, and he urged the boy to take another sip. "Perhaps you've been reading too much," he said,
stroking the boy's curls, and at the same time kneading his head. "Maybe it be best to rest your eyes for a while."
Frodo agreed with another, "Mmm-hmm."
At a sudden thought, Bilbo smiled, humorously. "You know, if not for the mushrooms I bought, I'd say you were trying to get out of going to Aunt Dora's tonight for supper."
At the word 'mushrooms,' the tired blue eyes widened and he looked up at his uncle. "You're making mushroom pie?" he asked, disregarding the joke for the sake of his favorite food. He was used to Bilbo teasing him for his former reputation as a prankster in Brandy Hall. He knew his uncle had been waiting for him to resume the habit here.
"I planned to," Bilbo replied. "Aunt Dora invited us to come to supper tonight, and I offered to bring chestnut soup and mushroom pie. But we don't have to go if you're not feeling well."
For a moment, eagerness flittered across the pale face, but it was quickly replaced by pain. "I...I don't know, uncle," he said, his voice apologetic as he dropped his head on his uncle's shoulder once more.
The fact that Frodo was admitting freely to feeling badly was enough for Bilbo to understand that he was in real pain. It usually took a lot for his stubborn nephew to admit being sick. And the fact that he was passing up mushroom pie worried him more than anything. Even with his small appetite, mushroom pie was the one food Bilbo never had to cajole him to eat.
"Maybe if it doesn't hurt so much later..."
Bilbo nodded in agreement. "Yes, my boy. How about we wait it out. Your aunt doesn't want us until later anyway. Now," he added, taking the empty cup from Frodo and placing it on the table. "Let's get you to your own room."
Frodo nodded without protest as his uncle gathered him up in his arms and carried him to his bed. Laying him on the soft mattress, Bilbo drew the curtains shut so the room was as dark as possible.
"I'll just be down the hall if you need anything. Have a good rest."
Frodo mustered a weak smile as he burrowed his face deeper into the pillow.
But Frodo wasn't feeling better later. After an hour of preparing the chestnut soup and mushroom pie, Bilbo went back to check on him. If they were to make it to Dora's on time, then they would have to leave soon. To his dismay, Frodo's headache had not abated.
"You can go, uncle, I'll be all right," the boy mumbled from beneath the covers.
Bilbo shook his head, firmly. "No Frodo, I wouldn't think of it. Besides, I think she's really invited us for a chance to get to see you again. It would sort of defeat the purpose to have her boring old cousin," he said. He was relieved when Frodo laughed, lightly. "Is there anything I can get you? Some water maybe, or how about a few mouthfuls of the mushroom pie? It's just beginning to cool."
"Maybe...some more of that bark stuff?"
"Of course," Bilbo answered, smiling, though his concern was secretly growing. "Just give me a few minutes."
Back in the kitchen, Bilbo prepared some more of the drink. He didn't have much more willow bark in storage, for he didn't often get headaches, and those that he had never lasted long.
As he waited for the water to boil, he chewed on his lip, wonder what might have prompted such a bad headache. He hoped Frodo wasn't like his aunt Pimpernel, who had such a sensitive head that anything from worries over what to make for dinner, weather changes, too much light, and food could all prompt a headache. Or maybe it was nothing, and Frodo had just stayed up too late last night reading.
A sudden knock at the door broke Bilbo out of his wandering thoughts, and he opened the door to Hamfast Gamgee,
"Thank you for the firewood," Bilbo said, as Hamfast stacked the fresh logs by the door. "I don't mean to bother you so close to supper, but would you be able to run to my cousin Dora Baggins, and give her the message that Frodo and I won't be coming tonight?"
"Of course, sir. May this be the third night in a month that she's invited you over?" Mr. Gamgee asked, with a curious frown. Up until Bilbo had adopted Frodo, it had been virtually unheard of for his master to respond to dinner invitations.
"The fourth," Bilbo said, with a small grin. "Frodo's aunt's grown quite a liking to him, and I'm afraid she might be attempting to adopt him from me in a few months. Perhaps it's better we don't go tonight."
"Is everythin' all right?"
"Yes," Bilbo said, offhandedly. "It's just that Frodo's had a bad headache all afternoon, and he's not really up to going."
"Ah, I see. Did you give him willow bark? There be something that helps with head pain."
"I did. Though it doesn't seem to be helping as much as it should, for he's asked for another dosage."
Hamfast nodded. "Well, I hope he feels better 'n the mornin' sir."
"So do I," said Bilbo under his breath after bidding Hamfast a good night. It had been four months since he had adopted Frodo, and almost every night his devoted nephew had chosen to sit up with him at night, reading, while he sat and wrote by the fire. It would be hard to work tonight without his comforting presence, Bilbo thought, as he finished preparing the second cup of willow bark and headed down the hall to Frodo's room.
Bilbo paused in the doorway, and smiled in relief to see the pale face peeking out from beneath the covers, peacefully lost in sleep.
TBC
Shall I continue? I've got a plot for this story planned, but it could stand alone as a story right here. Please be my guide and tell me what to do. In other words, please read and review! :)