Summer Bugs
Disclaimer: The characters and ideas in my story all belong to J R R Tolkien.
Thanks to Xandra for betaing!
Summary: It doesn't seem to be possible to go through summer without a cold. At least Frodo has Bilbo to help him through the discomfort. If only he'd forget all the nasty things he learned from the Gamgee family'.
The large array of food on the table had smelled appetizing when Bilbo was first cooking it, but now the smells seemed to assault his nose likes smells from an overflowing privy. Frodo wanted to bend over and vomit up everything in his stomach.
But at the same time he was ever so hungry and it was food. He took a seat across from Bilbo, keeping his mouth shut and willing his stomach to behave. It worked. Frodo filled his plate with a small amount of everything and looked down at it.
"Come on now lad. You've got to eat more than that!" Bilbo exclaimed. His own plate was piled high, with generous portions from every dish and Frodo knew that this plate was but the first of many.
Frodo tried to smile, but he didn't want to open his mouth and it ended up looking more like a grimace. "I'm really not all that hungry." He said, his voice low.
Bilbo shook his head. "Fine, fine. You can always have a snack later." He smiled and Frodo knew that he could always join his uncle for a snack. Food was always in great abundance.
For the first half of the meal, Frodo picked at his food, having a small bite of chicken here and playing with a pile of mashed potatoes there. He usually enjoyed most of these foods, but not today.
Then, about halfway through the meal, Frodo lifted one of the roasted carrot pieces to his mouth and sneezed, hard enough to blow the carrot off his fork. Blindly, he reached for the handkerchief in his pocket, to wipe his streaming eyes and nose.
"Here lad."
Frodo took the cloth offered to him by Bilbo, wiped his face and blew his nose. He looked back across the table. "Must have gotten some of that pepper in my nose." He muttered, uncomfortable with the way Bilbo was looking at him. "I'm fine."
"Mmmmhmm." Bilbo murmured, looking at Frodo closely, or as close as he could from the other side of the table. He muttered something under his breath, but it was too quiet for Frodo to hear.
The young hobbit turned his attention back to his plate, his ears burning and his stomach rumbling. He still had the handkerchief clutched in his hand and his nose was tickling. Another sneeze was coming.
Frodo stood up suddenly, almost knocking his chair over in the process. "Thank you for the meal Bilbo. It was quite good." He beat a rapid retreat, hurrying from the dining room, through the hallway and into his own bedroom.
He closed the door quickly and then rested upon it as he sneezed and sneezed. Soon after, he couldn't get his breath and the sneezes turned into coughs. Once everything finally stopped, Frodo wiped his face clean and stumbled across the floor to collapse onto his bed.
The bed felt cool and the covers soft underneath his body. Frodo sighed and stretched out, resting his head on the pillow and struggling to ignore the mucus building up in his throat and nose again. He gave his head a slight shake, but it didn't help anything.
Out of ideas, he closed his eyes and tried to relax, breathing deeply through his mouth and ignoring his nose and achy feeling throat. Sleep will help. He thought to himself. Yes, it will be nice to sleep. He waited for a moment, then opened his eyes.
Ten minutes later, Frodo had tossed and turned all over his bed. Half the covers were on the floor now and the bed didn't feel nice and cool any more. I should get up and change. Then I'll be able to sleep. But even the thought was tiring and he could not find the energy within himself to get up and walk across the floor, let alone change.
Frodo propped his pillow up slightly and laid back on that. Now it was easier to breathe, but he could feel a crick building up in his neck and groaned. There wasn't any way for him to be comfortable. It was a conspiracy.
There was a soft knock at the door. Frodo ignored it. He didn't want Bilbo telling him to eat more, or staring at him, questioning his heath. He closed his eyes as the knock grew louder, but it didn't appear to be going away.
"Go away." He called, regretting the words the instant they left his mouth. He didn't speak like that to adults, especially ones he liked, ones like Bilbo.
But Bilbo didn't listen and the door was pushed open.
Frodo groaned yet again and rolled away from the door, burying his head beneath the pillow. "I don't want anything to eat."
There was a soft laugh and the sound of something being set down on the side-table. Frodo felt the mattress under him shift as Bilbo sat down on the bed and leaned towards him. Bilbo smelled nice, like spices and soap and clean cloth.
"I thought that might be the case." Bilbo's voice was quiet and Frodo couldn't hear any traces of anger or disappointment. He gave a mental sigh of relief. Perhaps Bilbo hadn't heard his comment.
Bilbo's hand ghosted over his forehead. "I think you've got a bit of a summer cold Frodo."
Frodo shook his head under Bilbo's hand and sat up. "No. No, I'm completely fine. Just a bit tired." But he was leaning on Bilbo and his eyes were slightly closed betraying his statements.
"Here." Bilbo took one of the mugs he'd brought into the room and handed it to Frodo. "Have some of that. It'll help you feel better." When Frodo looked at him questioningly he added, "Ginger tea."
Frodo sipped the drink. He generally went all summer without drinking tea, he didn't like hot drinks in the warm weather. Of course, it didn't get hot in Bag End. With the thick walls and the cool air from the iced pantry in the basement coming up into the main level.
The tea was warm, but not hot. And Bilbo was right. Frodo took another mouthful. The tea was sweet, sweeter than he would have normally liked. But now it seemed perfect. Frodo drank a bit more and gave the cup back to his uncle.
"Thank you. And Bilbo, I didn't mean what I said before, about wanting you to go away." Frodo looked at the older hobbit nervously.
Bilbo smiled, "I didn't think anything of it. Sometimes when folk are ill, they say things they don't mean to. It's quite all right lad. Just get better so you can run around and get into all kinds of trouble again."
"I don't mean to. Get into trouble that is." Frodo murmured, sliding down so he could rest his head in his uncle's lap. "Things like mud puddles, they just seem to find me whenever I go outside. I'd rather stay in and read."
Bilbo shook his head and chuckled good naturedly. "Of course. Hobbits, even ones who go on adventures and would rather be reading, do need to stop once and awhile and go outside in the sun." He began to run his fingers through Frodo's hair and soothe the young hobbit to sleep. "But you don't have to go out today. Just go to sleep."
Frodo's eyes closed gradually. Bilbo's fingers in his hair did feel very nice and he was suddenly feeling very tired, very very tired. He yawned and then blushed for he hadn't been able to cover his mouth. But Bilbo didn't seem to mind and soon after he was sleeping.
Bilbo didn't leave. He wasn't sure how Frodo would sleep and he didn't want to disturb his rest. And since half of the sleeping boy's body was on his lap, it would have been rather impossible for him to move out from underneath him and settle him on the bed.
Sure enough, what seemed like a very short time to Bilbo, Frodo awakened. His hair was plastered to his forehead and he was sweating. At some point during his fitful sleep, he'd developed a fever. A few harsh coughs barked from his throat.
"Poor boy." Bilbo murmured. He helped Frodo sit up and lean back against the headboard. "Just wait a moment."
With a speed that seemed supernatural for one his age, Bilbo hurried across the room and came back with a clean nightshirt. He murmured softly to his nephew as he helped in out of his clothes, moist with sweat, and into the clean cloth. "There you go."
Frodo wanted to sigh with relief when Bilbo pulled back the covers and helped him into the warm embrace of the bed. But he didn't think his throat could take it. He felt as if he'd been sleeping for hours. You're suppose to feel better after sleeping. I feel worse. Frodo looked at his uncle. "I feel bad," he whispered.
Bilbo nodded. "Give me moment. I'll bring you some tea. And some medicine." He left the door to Frodo's room open when he slipped down the hall and into the kitchen.
The water in the kettle was still hot and Bilbo wasted no time in gathering up the various herbs he needed from cupboards and drawers and making his way back to Frodo's room. His heart ached for the tweenager. He himself had been stricken with a short lasting, but severe summer cold a scarce week before. He remembered how uncomfortable it had been.
"Bilbo?" Frodo turned when the older hobbit entered the room. "Bilbo please, I'm thirsty." His voice rasped through his dry throat and he spoke slowly, as every word hurt him.
Bilbo sat on the bed next to him. "Shush Frodo, I'm here now." He took the cup of ginger tea from the side-table and added a bit of hot water. "You drink that." He pressed the ceramic into Frodo's hands and busied himself with the other teas and remedies, most of them taught to him by the Gamgee family over the years.
"I don't want any more." Frodo held the cup of ginger tea out towards his uncle. "I want to sleep now Bilbo. Please, let me sleep."
"Not quite yet." Bilbo took the cup of ginger tea. "I've got two brews for you and some syrup for your cough." He took up another mug. "You don't have to drink it all. Just a bit, so you can be better by tomorrow."
Frodo took the cup, sniffing it carefully. The drink was bright red, like blood. "What's this?"
"Juniper. And its a syrup. It'll coat your throat and give you peace from the cough." Bilbo nodded encouragingly.
Frodo took a mouthful and swallowed the syrup. It was a bit sweet. It seemed like everything Bilbo gave him was loaded with sugar. But sweetness was better than bitter or sour and whatever the nasty taste things so often seemed to have.
"That's better." When he spoke this time, the words seemed to slide in his throat, no rasping or pain. And no urge to cough. "The teas?"
The tea was purple. But Frodo couldn't tell if that was from the cup or the tea itself. It smelled rather. . .off. As if Bilbo had added half the sugar bowl, but that hadn't been enough to change the taste. He took a small sip and grimaced. Sure enough, the brew was bitter and the undercurrent of sweetness made it worse.
"What is this?" Frodo looked at his uncle, spluttering through his third sip of the foul drink. He'd taken more than enough sips, in his mind, and yet there seemed to be none of the liquid missing from the glass.
Bilbo shook his head. "An herb. It should help your cold and let you relax. It's myrtle." There was no recognition in Frodo's face. "Little white flowers that you're not allowed to sample. I don't think you've ever wanted to. The plant is quite strong."
Frodo nodded, he could feel his eyelids starting to drift close, but then something would start to ache anew or his nose would tickle and his descent to sleep would be once again interrupted. Bilbo's voice was soothing. He couldn't hear the words, just the sounds it made.
"Here. I'll help you."
There was a cup held to his lips. Frodo found he energy and lifted a hand to help. This tea didn't have a smell and he tried to tip it towards him. The liquid looked soothing. Especially now that he was so tired. He wanted Bilbo to murmur things and run fingers through his hair and let him sleep.
"It's Valerian. For sleeping."
Frodo drank the tea, not noticing any tastes. But warm liquid. And then slowly, as Bilbo shifted and shook his head, sleep beginning to set in. It crept up on him, slowly playing in the edges of his eyes, then taking his whole mind with it into the peace and restfulness.
Bilbo ran his fingers through the curly dark hair. He was tired and he knew that Frodo was more tired still. One day, he wanted to know if Frodo learned anything during these days, about herbs and healing. Bilbo didn't expect him to, but at the same time it made him curious.
He looked down at the sleeping tweenager's face. That would have to be a question for another day. Frodo was already to starting to look much better. It seemed that this summer cold was to be harsh and soon over. And it was a good thing too. Bilbo hated seeing Frodo in such a state.
"I never want you to have to feel like this lad." Bilbo ran his fingers through the dark locks again. "Pity its a part of being mortal." He smiled, Frodo had heard bits and pieces of his travels. But summer was cooling down now, the perfect time for him to show Frodo something and to take him places.
Once he was up and about again, Bilbo was ready. There would be nothing between them. Bilbo turned and changed positions slightly. A small hard object bit into his thigh. He reached deep into his pocket and felt the ring. Cold, it was always cold though.
Maybe there would be something between them after all.