Bilbo set two large pots of water in the fireplace, enough for about half hour of bath time, he reasoned. Having done that and partially filling the tub, he began to set the pine and frankincense cones around the room, glancing at the clock as he did so. It was now 8:30, four hours since Dahlia had diagnosed Frodo with scarlet fever. These had been, without question the worse four hours of Bilbo's life and things were going to get worst before they got better, if they ever did. It would be eleven and half hours before Hamfast Gamgee arrived and could get the medicine to lower Frodo's fever and another nineteen and a half hours before Frodo would get any uninterrupted sleep. And what would happen in the intervals between these times? Frodo could very well have a seizure. Bilbo didn't even want to think about that. He leaned against the wall and let himself sink to the floor, trying hard not to give in to despair.
"Miss Greenhill?" Frodo asked after dutifully taking his half hourly tincture dose, "is Uncle Bilbo still in the bathing room?"
"Probably. It takes a while to heat large amounts of water, but I'm sure he'll be in as soon as soon as he can. While we're waiting, why don't you tell me a bit about yourself if, you feel up to it? I've been taking care of you since this afternoon, but we've never had a real conversation."
Frodo looked shocked for a minute, then uncomfortable. Why would she want to have conservation with him? No one had ever showed any real interest in him before, other than Uncle Bilbo and his parents. And what could he say anyway?
"Ah… well…. I…", Frodo stammered at last, "where do you want me to start?"
Seeing Frodo's confused expression Dahlia realized she needed to be more specific. "Well, Bilbo tells me you've been here for almost a week. Where were you living before that?"
"At Brandy Hall, out in Buckland. I was visiting there with my parents when they…. had an accident." Frodo looked down, he voice barely audible as he said those last three words. He half expected his healer to interrupt him or abruptly change the subject, as was the practice with most adults. Some of them too, admonished him to put all thoughts of that out of his mind, and look forward from now on. Dahlia did none of those things, however. When Frodo tentatively lifted his eyes, he noticed she still looked concerned and sympathetic so he went on rather reluctantly.
"I had fun there playing with my cousins and swimming and boating. Uncle Bilbo was there too telling us stories of his adventures. Even when they told me about my parents, I didn't feel too bad at first. Their death didn't seem real to me until I saw their bodies being laid in ice and listened to the funeral plans being made."
"It must have been a terrible shock when it finally sunk in for you," Dahlia acknowledged gently.
"Well…I…it's hard to explain," Frodo continued awkwardly. Talking about what happened was one of the hardest things he ever did, but at the same time he noticed that it somehow helped him heal. "I don't understand it either. Sometimes I cried and screamed until I wore myself out, but sometimes I felt I could talk about it like it was something that happened to someone else. No one else seemed to understand either. It was like 'Frodo, you were all right this morning. What's wrong with you now?' Was I wrong to act like that, Miss Greenhill?" His blue eyes widened slightly with anxiety.
"No, Frodo, you weren't wrong," his healer reassured him. "Grief is a very personal thing. There's no right or wrong way to act."
"Really?" Frodo seemed to relax a bit when he heard that. "Actually, I think Uncle Bilbo told me that. And I remember my Aunt Esmeralda telling me too. She and her husband spent time with me whenever they could, but that wasn't often with so many people there. Anyway, they were the ones who decided I should stay at Bag End for a while. When I asked how long I could stay, they said for as long it suited Uncle Bilbo. I guess they wanted to get rid of me because of the problems I was causing by not getting adjusted properly."
Bilbo, who had been just about to enter, froze when he hear those words. Frodo was causing problems? He never caused problems; he was one of the best-behaved children Bilbo had ever seen. And not getting adjusted properly? What could that possibly mean?
"Everyone cried after the accident and at the funeral," Frodo went on, "but when it was all over and they were finally buried, things got back to normal. Everyone seemed to get over their sadness by that time, so I guess I should have too.
"Is that you were told, Frodo?" Dahlia asked, greatly concerned about the impact that would have on Frodo if it were true.
"I wasn't actually told that, but I could tell it was true," Frodo replied sadly. "I had to share a room with my cousins and my crying bothered them, especially at night. It bothered the grown-ups too, even though they didn't say anything to me about it. Anyway, after about a week of that, Aunt Esmeralda and Uncle Saradoc asked me if I wanted to stay with Uncle Bilbo for a while and of course I did. I've always loved it here at Bag End and I don't have to worry too much about disturbing Uncle Bilbo because I have my own room, but I still try to be on my best behaviour of course."
Outside Frodo's door, Bilbo's initial shock at what he heard quickly turned to anger. How could his relatives have been so insensitive, especially Esmeralda? Frodo always seemed to have a good relationship with her. Of course she was busy and had responsibilities, but surely to goodness Frodo was more important! How could she not have realized that? Then a horrifying thought struck him: he was just as guilty. No, more so. He had been at Brandy Hall the whole time. He had no major responsibilities, and yet it never occurred to him to think about what he could do for Frodo. Well no more, he decided. Frodo would have a home at Bag End for as long he wanted and Bilbo would do everything he could to make amends for his inattentiveness.
"Frodo, have you ever told anybody this before?" Dahlia asked gently.
"Well….not exactly," Frodo nervously look at the clock as he spoke. "I told Uncle Bilbo I was very glad to be here and… isn't it time for my medicine again?" he added quickly.
"So it is," Dahlia replied, administering the tincture, "but Frodo, it would be a good idea to tell your relatives what you were feeling, or at least tell Uncle Bilbo." Frodo considered this for a minute.
"That won't be necessary," Bilbo announced as finally entered. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but I was already outside the door and didn't want to interrupt. My boy, what can I say? I am so sorry! I didn't do a thing to help you, I was only thinking about myself and my own grief." Visibly upset, he took Frodo's hand in his. "Can you forgive me for overlooking you as I did?"
"Of course I do," Frodo replied in amazement. "but Uncle Bilbo you let me stay here, and that really helped."
"That was Esmeralda's idea, Frodo, not mine. I wouldn't even have thought of it."
"Well, I'm here now," Frodo said, his eyes brightening hopefully. "And I'll be on my best behaviour for as long as I can stay."
"You can stay as long as you want, but we'll talk about it later. Would you like your bath now?" Bilbo tried to sound upbeat as spoke, but he noticed that Frodo's temperature had shown no sign of going down. Dahlia noticed too as she checked it.
Bilbo gave Frodo his bath, sponging him with the water first so as not to shock his body too much. Dahlia meanwhile removed all the objects near his bed, hoping that would prove unnecessary, but not feeling very optimistic.
