Disclaimer, I do not own any hobbits or settings in this little piece of fiction.
Summary: This is a bonding story that takes place shortly after Frodo moves in with Bilbo, so he is a bit unsure as to how to act in front of him. Bilbo can be rather intimidating sometimes, when he is just getting to know him, but he's a very nice person, really. He cares a great deal for Frodo, but being a bachelor, he isn't sure how to react to a sick tweenager. May be AU, so be warned. P.S. Frodo is a bit paranoid about his relationship with his guardian at this point.
I was having a terrible nightmare. In it I felt as if I was on fire, with nothing to put it out. I shouted for Bilbo, but he couldn't see me or hear me, for some reason. I was on my own. I screamed, and then waited. I couldn't see the fire I just felt it. Finally, I felt some form of blessed relief as someone gently washed my face with a rag. I heard my name being called from somewhere, so I answered, or at least tried to. It came out a moan. "Come on, lad, open your eyes." Somehow, I forced them open, and was rewarded by Bilbo looking down at me, smiling. "There you are. I was worried about you. You have a fever and were talking in your sleep. Whatever were you dreaming about my boy?"
"I was dreaming about being hot. It was like I was on fire, but I couldn't see the flames." I sniffled, noting how the cold that I had earlier was getting worse. Bilbo winced slightly when I did so. I'd forgotten that he didn't like that. Quickly I snatched my handkerchief and blew my nose, embarrassed, and then I continued, "You couldn't see me, or hear me, but I could see you." I began to cough, and Bilbo watched me with concern as I clutched the blanket to my chest in an effort to alleviate the pain that was tightening there. I then rubbed at my eyes, which were also starting to feel funny. They were itchy, very itchy.
Bilbo moved my hand away from them and peered into each one. "Well, Frodo, your eyes certainly are red, have you been rubbing them often? They're bloodshot."
I had been rubbing at them, they were very irritated, so I nodded. "Yes Uncle, they itch. They haven't itched this badly and been this watery since my last allergy attack. Anyway, they hurt too." I sighed, which was a big mistake, because it made me want to cough again. I hate colds, and told Bilbo so.
He patted my shoulder, "I know you do, Son, colds are horrible, especially when it's such a nice October day. They make you feel as if your whole body is drained of all energy, but you still want to go out and do things because it's so sunny and pretty outside. I've had them too, my boy."
I knew he knew what it felt like, but I hated them all the same. Oh well, the Gamgees were supposed to be coming over, and Sam was always entertaining, without meaning to be. He says funny things while being perfectly serious, and it's hard not to laugh at him. Even Bilbo likes him to come over, and I never thought of him as a child person, I think that's why he waited until I was older to adopt me and bring me here. Children get crumbs in the sofa cushions and dirty handprints on the cupboards. I settled back in the pillows, allowing myself to feel sleepy.
"Frodo? Frodo, my dear boy, wake up now. It's time for tea."
I didn't want to wake up. The only relief I felt from my sore itchy eyes was keeping them closed. I could feel a soft handkerchief being pressed into my hand, "Here," He said gently, "your nose is running."
I felt my cheeks go red. I hate being in any way messy in front of him; he's so immaculate. I blew my nose, which only loosened more mucus and caused it to be even worse. Bilbo seemed to detect the problem, "I'll go get you another one. Hang on." I felt like crying, I was so embarrassed, "There you are, Lad, it's all right, everyone gets runny noses every once in a while."
I looked up at him gratefully, he did understand. I coughed again, loosening up phlegm. Bilbo sat down on the edge of my bed and patted my back, while I began to sneeze. I felt so helpless, sitting in bed while he watched me make a fool out of myself. I have never felt so ashamed. When I lived at Buckland, there were so many other people that no one cared if you were a bit messy when you were ill, but here, it's just Bilbo and me. I feel sometimes as though I'm in a museum and any loud noise that I make could break something. Like, say, my cousin's eardrums. He might not look it, but he is ninety-nine, and that's an age where loud noises and sloppy children and tweenagers set off a temper and made the old person nervous. An old aunt at Buckland was very grumpy if anyone was loud around her, and she was only eighty-five.
He didn't look annoyed, which I was thankful for, but I wouldn't mind have some company that I wasn't afraid that I was going to anger. "When are Sam and Mr. Gamgee coming over?" I asked, hoping he would say soon, I was wishing for someone to talk to. I still wasn't sure what to say to Bilbo.
"They cannot come, Frodo. They sent word when you were asleep. Sam's ill with the same thing that you have, and Hamfast doesn't want to run the risk of making it worse. But you can still have tea with me. Would you like me to help you move out to the sitting room?"
That was better than nothing, although I was so disappointed that little Samwise and his father couldn't come over. I nodded, "That would be nice, Bilbo. What kinds of tea do you have?"
"Well, I thought perhaps you might enjoy peppermint or chamomile. Does your stomach hurt, by the way, is it upset?"
"No, it's just a horrid cold that won't leave me alone." I lifted my handkerchief up to my face, and sneezed into it three times, as if to prove my point.
He smiled, "I'll go make you a bed out on the sofa, and you can spend the rest of the day out there. Later, I can read to you, if you would like."
"I would like that very much, thank you." I told him as I wondered what kind of books he had. I knew he'd been on adventures, of course, but I wasn't sure what other things he would have to read. I mostly brought my own books, or played outside, when the weather would permit it. I sipped my tea, and chose to ignore the biscuit that rested on my plate; I wasn't hungry, which was most unusual for me. He was watching me again, and I wasn't sure if I liked it, he seems so appraising sometimes. I'm so afraid that I'm going to mess up in front of him, and then he'll send me back to Buckland. I love them there, especially little Merry, but it's so crowded, and I hate feeling crowded. Aunt Esmerelda said that that was the Baggins side of me. "Can I go outside after tea? I haven't had a chance to do that all day."
"Perhaps it's best if you don't today, Frodo. You have quite the cold, you know. Would they have let you if you were at Buckland?"
"I was basically allowed to do whatever I wanted to there, honest." I sighed, it was the truth. When you live with so many people, they hardly care what you do, as long as you not disturbing the other five million people in the smial.
"Well, I don't think it would be a good idea. After all, Hamfast won't allow Sam to venture out of doors. He's raised quite a few children, and none of them are dead yet, so he must be doing something right. If your feeling better, and if the weather holds out, I'll let you tomorrow. Anyway, I thought we were going to read this afternoon. That is, you may do whatever you would like to do, as long as it's an indoor activity, but I thought it would be nice to do something together."
He looked rather disappointed, and I felt bad. "All right, what would you like to do? Can I go have a look at your books?"
He brightened, "Of course you may. I can make some suggestions if you would like, or you may choose for yourself."
"I don't know a lot of your books, maybe you can help me?"
We spent about half an hour looking at his shelves, only because he had so many different types of books. They ranged from what to do if your sink was plugged to the most fantastic fairy-stories one could ever hope to read and everything in between. I finally chose one. He looked at it and smiled. "This is Samwise's favorite book. He likes me to read it every time he comes over, and I hope you like it as well. It's not one story, you see, it's many wrapped in one."
I gaped at him, he and Sam sounded as if they were, well, almost close. I hadn't had Bilbo pegged as the kind of hobbit that wanted small ones around. He seems too particular. He continued, "I'll read you his favorite story. He begs to hear it all the time, and I think he can recite it now."
I nestled under the covers that Bilbo had put on the couch for me to sleep on. The story was quite good, but I found myself falling asleep as he read. I heard him laugh and felt the blanket being pulled up close to me. "Good night, my dear boy. Sleep well." He brushed his hand against my cheek and stopped, seeming almost as if he wanted to do something more, but thought better of it just in time. He just patted me, and left the room.
Summary: This is a bonding story that takes place shortly after Frodo moves in with Bilbo, so he is a bit unsure as to how to act in front of him. Bilbo can be rather intimidating sometimes, when he is just getting to know him, but he's a very nice person, really. He cares a great deal for Frodo, but being a bachelor, he isn't sure how to react to a sick tweenager. May be AU, so be warned. P.S. Frodo is a bit paranoid about his relationship with his guardian at this point.
I was having a terrible nightmare. In it I felt as if I was on fire, with nothing to put it out. I shouted for Bilbo, but he couldn't see me or hear me, for some reason. I was on my own. I screamed, and then waited. I couldn't see the fire I just felt it. Finally, I felt some form of blessed relief as someone gently washed my face with a rag. I heard my name being called from somewhere, so I answered, or at least tried to. It came out a moan. "Come on, lad, open your eyes." Somehow, I forced them open, and was rewarded by Bilbo looking down at me, smiling. "There you are. I was worried about you. You have a fever and were talking in your sleep. Whatever were you dreaming about my boy?"
"I was dreaming about being hot. It was like I was on fire, but I couldn't see the flames." I sniffled, noting how the cold that I had earlier was getting worse. Bilbo winced slightly when I did so. I'd forgotten that he didn't like that. Quickly I snatched my handkerchief and blew my nose, embarrassed, and then I continued, "You couldn't see me, or hear me, but I could see you." I began to cough, and Bilbo watched me with concern as I clutched the blanket to my chest in an effort to alleviate the pain that was tightening there. I then rubbed at my eyes, which were also starting to feel funny. They were itchy, very itchy.
Bilbo moved my hand away from them and peered into each one. "Well, Frodo, your eyes certainly are red, have you been rubbing them often? They're bloodshot."
I had been rubbing at them, they were very irritated, so I nodded. "Yes Uncle, they itch. They haven't itched this badly and been this watery since my last allergy attack. Anyway, they hurt too." I sighed, which was a big mistake, because it made me want to cough again. I hate colds, and told Bilbo so.
He patted my shoulder, "I know you do, Son, colds are horrible, especially when it's such a nice October day. They make you feel as if your whole body is drained of all energy, but you still want to go out and do things because it's so sunny and pretty outside. I've had them too, my boy."
I knew he knew what it felt like, but I hated them all the same. Oh well, the Gamgees were supposed to be coming over, and Sam was always entertaining, without meaning to be. He says funny things while being perfectly serious, and it's hard not to laugh at him. Even Bilbo likes him to come over, and I never thought of him as a child person, I think that's why he waited until I was older to adopt me and bring me here. Children get crumbs in the sofa cushions and dirty handprints on the cupboards. I settled back in the pillows, allowing myself to feel sleepy.
"Frodo? Frodo, my dear boy, wake up now. It's time for tea."
I didn't want to wake up. The only relief I felt from my sore itchy eyes was keeping them closed. I could feel a soft handkerchief being pressed into my hand, "Here," He said gently, "your nose is running."
I felt my cheeks go red. I hate being in any way messy in front of him; he's so immaculate. I blew my nose, which only loosened more mucus and caused it to be even worse. Bilbo seemed to detect the problem, "I'll go get you another one. Hang on." I felt like crying, I was so embarrassed, "There you are, Lad, it's all right, everyone gets runny noses every once in a while."
I looked up at him gratefully, he did understand. I coughed again, loosening up phlegm. Bilbo sat down on the edge of my bed and patted my back, while I began to sneeze. I felt so helpless, sitting in bed while he watched me make a fool out of myself. I have never felt so ashamed. When I lived at Buckland, there were so many other people that no one cared if you were a bit messy when you were ill, but here, it's just Bilbo and me. I feel sometimes as though I'm in a museum and any loud noise that I make could break something. Like, say, my cousin's eardrums. He might not look it, but he is ninety-nine, and that's an age where loud noises and sloppy children and tweenagers set off a temper and made the old person nervous. An old aunt at Buckland was very grumpy if anyone was loud around her, and she was only eighty-five.
He didn't look annoyed, which I was thankful for, but I wouldn't mind have some company that I wasn't afraid that I was going to anger. "When are Sam and Mr. Gamgee coming over?" I asked, hoping he would say soon, I was wishing for someone to talk to. I still wasn't sure what to say to Bilbo.
"They cannot come, Frodo. They sent word when you were asleep. Sam's ill with the same thing that you have, and Hamfast doesn't want to run the risk of making it worse. But you can still have tea with me. Would you like me to help you move out to the sitting room?"
That was better than nothing, although I was so disappointed that little Samwise and his father couldn't come over. I nodded, "That would be nice, Bilbo. What kinds of tea do you have?"
"Well, I thought perhaps you might enjoy peppermint or chamomile. Does your stomach hurt, by the way, is it upset?"
"No, it's just a horrid cold that won't leave me alone." I lifted my handkerchief up to my face, and sneezed into it three times, as if to prove my point.
He smiled, "I'll go make you a bed out on the sofa, and you can spend the rest of the day out there. Later, I can read to you, if you would like."
"I would like that very much, thank you." I told him as I wondered what kind of books he had. I knew he'd been on adventures, of course, but I wasn't sure what other things he would have to read. I mostly brought my own books, or played outside, when the weather would permit it. I sipped my tea, and chose to ignore the biscuit that rested on my plate; I wasn't hungry, which was most unusual for me. He was watching me again, and I wasn't sure if I liked it, he seems so appraising sometimes. I'm so afraid that I'm going to mess up in front of him, and then he'll send me back to Buckland. I love them there, especially little Merry, but it's so crowded, and I hate feeling crowded. Aunt Esmerelda said that that was the Baggins side of me. "Can I go outside after tea? I haven't had a chance to do that all day."
"Perhaps it's best if you don't today, Frodo. You have quite the cold, you know. Would they have let you if you were at Buckland?"
"I was basically allowed to do whatever I wanted to there, honest." I sighed, it was the truth. When you live with so many people, they hardly care what you do, as long as you not disturbing the other five million people in the smial.
"Well, I don't think it would be a good idea. After all, Hamfast won't allow Sam to venture out of doors. He's raised quite a few children, and none of them are dead yet, so he must be doing something right. If your feeling better, and if the weather holds out, I'll let you tomorrow. Anyway, I thought we were going to read this afternoon. That is, you may do whatever you would like to do, as long as it's an indoor activity, but I thought it would be nice to do something together."
He looked rather disappointed, and I felt bad. "All right, what would you like to do? Can I go have a look at your books?"
He brightened, "Of course you may. I can make some suggestions if you would like, or you may choose for yourself."
"I don't know a lot of your books, maybe you can help me?"
We spent about half an hour looking at his shelves, only because he had so many different types of books. They ranged from what to do if your sink was plugged to the most fantastic fairy-stories one could ever hope to read and everything in between. I finally chose one. He looked at it and smiled. "This is Samwise's favorite book. He likes me to read it every time he comes over, and I hope you like it as well. It's not one story, you see, it's many wrapped in one."
I gaped at him, he and Sam sounded as if they were, well, almost close. I hadn't had Bilbo pegged as the kind of hobbit that wanted small ones around. He seems too particular. He continued, "I'll read you his favorite story. He begs to hear it all the time, and I think he can recite it now."
I nestled under the covers that Bilbo had put on the couch for me to sleep on. The story was quite good, but I found myself falling asleep as he read. I heard him laugh and felt the blanket being pulled up close to me. "Good night, my dear boy. Sleep well." He brushed his hand against my cheek and stopped, seeming almost as if he wanted to do something more, but thought better of it just in time. He just patted me, and left the room.