Title: The Visit

Author: Frodo Baggins of Bag End (FrodoAtBagEnd/FBoBE/"Febobe")

E-mail: febobe at yahoo dot com

Characters: Frodo, Radagast, various others in cameos or secondary roles, including Samwise, Gandalf, Legolas, Thranduil, OC female elven healer (Aduial).

Rating: T for painful and vivid PTSD symptoms as well as memories of violence. Follows FrodoHealers standards - no sexual content, no slashiness, no profanity.

Warnings: Some angst and medical detail. No profanity or sexual content, slash or het. May include memories of violence. No character death or suicidal ideation.

Summary: Following the Quest, Frodo reluctantly consents to visit Legolas's home...but the planned excursion goes horribly wrong when Frodo becomes ill along the way. Appearances by Radagast, Thranduil, and others, including an OC female elven healer (who is NOT Tauriel).

Feedback: Reviews are welcome, but (a) no flaming, please – flames will be used to warm Frodo's chilled body, and (b) I do this as a hobby, for pleasure, so before you take me to task about whether something "isn't canon" or "doesn't feel thematic" or how I left out a comma in paragraph 7 or made a typo in paragraph 3, please ask yourself whether that's really helpful. I'm not interested in being a canon purist or perfect – if I were, I wouldn't write this kind of thing; I'd just leave Frodo alone. In short – if you want to tell me you liked it, by all means, tell me, but if you just want to tell me how much better you would write Frodo, then go write your own stories with Frodo. (And if they're Frodo h/c, and suitable, by all means submit them to FrodoHealers. 😉 We could use some activity over there!)

Story Notes: If you didn't like Radagast in the Peter Jackson Hobbit films, you probably won't like him here. You have been warned! ;)

For permission to reproduce any part of this fanfic, please contact Febobe.

DISCLAIMER: The characters, places, and story of The Lord of the Rings are the property of J.R.R. Tolkien and consequently of the Tolkien Estate, with select rights by Tolkien Enterprises. This piece appears purely as fanfiction and is not intended to claim ownership of Tolkien's work in any way. Please e-mail me if you have concerns. Original characters, such as (but not limited to) Lossmeril, are my own work; please do not use my creations in your work. Please respect my original contributions. Furthermore, please do NOT consider any treatments or remedies within this story safe or effective for use: these are included as fictitious hobbit care, not real human medical practice, and while some can indeed be traced to actual therapeutic practices, could be dangerous. Please consult your health care professional before treating yourself or others for any condition or symptom. No slash is intended or implied in this story.

THE VISIT

Chapter 2: Settling In

"Let me get you into bed, little friend," said Radagast, lifting Frodo in his arms and cradling him close. "And then I shall prepare your medicines - and after that, supper."

"Begging your pardon, sir, but if you need any help with cooking, I can lend my hands," said Sam. "Seeing as how you're trying to help Mr. Frodo."

Radagast smiled as he carried Frodo to an alcove set back from the main area, where a great bed stood, covered by an unevenly pattered patchwork quilt and enormous feather-pillows. "I hear you are quite the cook, or so Lady Galadriel tells me," he said, easing Frodo gingerly down onto the bed.

Sam turned red, but he grinned. "I do my best, sir," he said, "and Mr. Frodo seems to like it well enough. Mr. Gandalf did, too, I reckon - didn't you, sir?"

"Sam is a fine cook," said Gandalf. "And I could lend a hand as well."

"I've a large basket of mushrooms, all kinds, over by my work-table there," said Radagast, beginning to help Frodo out of his travelling-clothes. "If you like, you can clean them and cut them into bite-sized pieces. I'll come and do something with them once I've gotten young Frodo settled and dosed."

Frodo felt too achy and weary to protest. Radagast had been very gentle, and his touch was soothing - not like that of an elf so much as that of Gandalf, and yet that in itself was a great comfort. It reminded him of when he had been young and quite ill at Bag End, and Gandalf had humoured him with stories and tried to make him feel better. Only Radagast seemed to know more what he was doing, like an actual healer - which, perhaps, he might be. Gandalf had said that Radagast was fond of plants and animals.

Radagast returned to Frodo's pack where it lay abandoned and rummaged a bit, pulling out Frodo's night-shirt at last. He held it up and studied it. "I had forgotten that hobbits are so small," he said. "Rather like rabbits after all, aren't they?"

Frodo could not help smiling, ill though he felt. Nonetheless, he was glad when Radagast eased him into his night-shirt and helped him crawl beneath the blankets. It was a great feather-mattress, and great feather-pillows to match, and he was not at all sorry when Radagast propped him at a gentle reclining angle and tucked the sheet and quilt over him.

"I have other quilts if you still feel chilled," he said, "but you have taken fever, and soon you may feel warmer than you like. I shall go prepare your medicine now, and if you have need of help, call, and one of us shall come to you."

"Thank you." Frodo settled back and watched what would have been altogether a pleasant scene, and very comfortable, had he not been ill: Sam, seated on a stool, wiping down mushrooms, while Gandalf sliced them into bite-sized pieces. Sam was deft and skilled; like most hobbits, he was well-practised in it. Radagast puttered about with some shelves Frodo had not noticed before; they held all manner of bottles and vials and jars, some with colourful syrups and elixirs, some with dried and fresh herbs. He took two bottles and a small vial to his work-table and set them down, then began filling small medicine-glasses and setting them on a tray, along with a dropper. At last he carried the tray to the bed and set it on a table which stood close at hand.

"These should not taste too unpleasant," he said, "and they are sweetened with honey and such elixirs of fruit as I thought suitable. Tell me, though, if you desire water afterward." He held up a smooth wooden spoon, poured the contents of a small glass into it, and touched it to Frodo's lips with a hand perfectly steady.

Frodo swallowed. It did taste sweet, and had notes of cherry in it, and herbs. Surprisingly, it seemed to soothe rather than irritate his scratchy, aching throat.

"That one will ease the pain in your throat," said Radagast, pouring another spoonful of syrup, "And this is for your chest, for I fear you may need it, and it will not harm you if all goes better than I fear."

Frodo swallowed again, and this too seemed to coat rather than irritate his throat. It tasted of some sort of berry flavor, though he could not have said exactly what.

"When we prepare you a hot drink, I shall give you tincture of meadowsweet," said Radagast. "That I will use a dropper for, for you are a little fellow, and so need only a little medicine."

Frodo could not help but smile, though a cough tickled his throat, and came out, only just giving him enough warning to press his handkerchief to his lips to cover his mouth. He coughed for a moment, a dry and irritating cough which only served to make his throat feel worse. Radagast reached behind him and rubbed his back gently.

"There, little fellow," he said. "I am rather appalled that anyone would let you set out on such a journey. This has been building for some days, hasn't it?"

Frodo considered. He had thought himself well enough when they set out from Minas Tirith, and when they had camped along the way, and when they had been at Grimbeorn's. But at Grimbeorn's he had occasionally noticed some aching in his head, and now and then his back, and those he had attributed to his growing less accustomed to serious foot-travel while in Minas Tirith. If he occasionally felt chilly, then it had not been cause for concern, for often he felt chilly since his wound last October. It was hardly uncommon, though it had seemed to occur more than usual since they left Grimbeorn's lands, some days earlier.

"I did not recognise it," he said. "I didn't think I was really ill."

"Well, you certainly are now!" said Radagast. "We had better keep you in bed, at least until your fever breaks. Now, rest for a while, and I will go and help with supper. Come, Sam," he called, "you can help me gather some eggs from my hens."

"Since when do you have hens here?" asked Gandalf, looking up.

"Since the Lady Galadriel came," said Radagast. "It is so much improved here - I went and brought a few from Lake-town. They're quite happy here, if I may say so."

Frodo watched as Sam and Radagast went out a back door. Gandalf finished cutting up mushrooms and came to the bed, where he sat facing Frodo.

"Radagast knows much about healing, doesn't he?" asked Frodo, coughing again.

Gandalf looked concerned. "He does," he said, "but all the same, I wish we could have reached the elves. I saw how soothing an influence Arwen had on you, and Elrond, when they came to Minas Tirith."

"They did help," said Frodo, "a great deal. But Radagast, well - he - reminds me of you, and that makes me feel better somehow. And he is kind, and gentle."

"That he is to all small living things," said Gandalf, "and while I know that hobbits do not always consider themselves small, you are not much larger than one of his rabbits, and still less fat than one of them."

"I don't know if I can eat anything," said Frodo miserably. "Not tonight."

"We can make you an egg and mushroom dish that should slide down easily," said Gandalf. "We will see what Radagast has to offer, but I am sure of eggs and mushrooms at least, and no doubt some seasonings."

"I just want to sleep," said Frodo, "if I can."

"Close your eyes," said Gandalf, patting his hand. "One of us will wake you when it is time for food."

"Don't bother," murmured Frodo, closing his eyes. Almost at once he slipped into an uneasy slumber.

-to be continued-