Title: Treasures
Author: BellaMonte
E-Mail:
Rating: PG-13 for violence, cursing and long-lasting hobbit suffering
Disclaimer: I own merely the scum of the story (ruffians and prostitutes).
A/N: Sorry this took so long. Also, just to clarify, the lead ranger from 'The Night Has a Thousand Eyes' and 'Revelations' was NOT Aragorn, just another noble, scruffy ranger out there. I figure I'm AU enough right now, I didn't need to bring him in.
Hope everyone enjoys!
WildFire203: (Joins in the nearly right happy dance!) Yep, you were nearly, nearly right! I considered having it Ted too, but decided it might as well be the father. Thank you for the awesome review, hope the wait wasn't too long!
ShadowGraffiti: Danke for the lovely review, ShadowGraffiti! Always a pleasure! Though (takes frying pan away) no Bilbo killing Sandyman, he'd be in deeper sht then, than the traitor hobbit! :)
Sorrowful Eagle: Thanks for the gingerbread hobbits! I leave you behind now some freshly baked brownies. :)
Ubiquitous Pitt: Hey hey. How be that (winks) going on? "I somehow think this will be easier for Frodo to overcome than Bilbo": You've got the right idea, Sara. Though it's going to be rough on both of them, especially the first few days, time and recovery and a heck of a lot of explanation is going to heal Frodo of a lot of his suffering, but Bilbo on the other hand's going to live with the burdens of guilt, responsibility, protecting his boy, etc., to the point that their roles will be switched by the end so Frodo's the one with things going on, and Bilbo's transformed into the standard nagging parental figure. Observe Bilbo: "Now be back by seven, and no drinking too much ale and no wandering too far on the edge of the Shire and no consorting with the wrong sort" that kind of thing. And you don't think I can make all end well believably? (Bows head, I deserve that :) we'll see, I'm realizing now having got past the rescue chapter I've got just as much complication in mending together the pieces I'd broken together earlier. Ack! Cannot win with this story. Keep writing!
Budgielover: "I'm STILL hoping for lots of comfort and reassurance and heart-warming affection for our poor lad - you have a lot to make up for - and us!": (Bows head, I deserve that too): I promise Budgie, comfort, reassurance, etc., is very near. Forgive me if the first day or so of Frodo's return is a bit rough, I couldn't imagine it being anything less, but it will turn sappy soon after. I'll make deal. You save Frodo from scary fire/snake/orc monster once and for all, and I'll propel myself into the comfort bits within the week. :)
Peony: Hey Peony! "Wow, was Frodo really gone for only two weeks! It feels a lot longer than that!": LOL, Peony, indeed considering it took over a year to get there (ducks). I share your view - a life in the Shire hills would be quite desirable compared to the steamy, hot weather of suburban PA. "Will Frodo finally tell Bilbo that he thought he'd abandoned him?": Of course, though it'll be pretty much the last thing he reveals to Bilbo. The truth's going to come out in little spurts, where it'll take time for Frodo to open up again, and naturally, that be the most pivotal point to his trauma, it will be one of the last things to come out. But it will - all will be revealed by the end.
Arwen Baggins: "There's only one problem with Sandyman being the bad guy here. The Gaffer is talking to Sandyman in the first chapter at the Ivy Bush Inn!": My dear Arwen, need I mention at this point that this story's AU? :)
Tangelian Proudfeet: Thank you dearly for the review, Tangelian. :)
Tiggivon: Danke danke mein Freund fur the kind words! (Ack, I cannot even speak one solid german sentence!) Thank you for the kind review and e-mail, tiggivon. Your words of praise mean a lot.
LilyBaggins: "Oh, can we have some more feverish Frodo?": (Sigh) You astound me, Lily, after a year and 26 chapters, and I finally get to the comfort/healing part, you demand more ailing Frodo? (Sigh again, shakes hand) Very well. I threw a FrodoHealer scene in just for you. And comfort/cuddling be on the way, you'll be sick of it by the end of the story.
Chloe Amethyst: "Looking forward to seeing Merry, and Sam too": Ooh, good! Sam's going to play a role in the beginning as one of the few anchors Frodo will be able to trust, considering he's one of the few characters he didn't have a big fall out with right before he was kidnapped. Yep, you had the right idea with him. :) Merry's coming up next chapter, and he'll have a substantial role to play as well. "It's a wonder Bilbo didn't suffer a nervous breakdown right there": He probably should've. Would've made more sense. And yeah, in this story I just couldn't help but emphasize the problem Bilbo has with the rest of the Shire either being suspicious of him/hating him/jealous of him, etc., because were this to happen that would certainly have a big part in it. And (sigh) as this chapter will prove, it'll continue to be a problem Bilbo worries about now that his boy is back. Danke danke (thank you) for the good luck on college semester, though be happy! I go to school in Seattle, and they're on quarter system there so I've got a month before I go back, hence am rapidly writing as fast as I can so I can get as much done as possible beforehand. :)
Endymion: You're right about the 'doctor' term, Edymion, but many other writers particularly FrodoHealers use it and I needed a distinguishing term for a healer, so please forgive me for it. :)
Fennelwink: Hey Fennelwink! That was an idea I considered, having Frodo face Sandyman, but I figured I'd traumatized the child enough and it would be best if he not see Tony, Strasser or the traitor hobbit any further. "Arg, won't that do wonders to reinforce his notions that have festered all the time": Eek....pretty much. You've got the right idea. I have this evil tendency to fit in dramatic irony everywhere, and I'm just stacking up the layers of misunderstandings between poor Frodo and Bilbo. It's going to take a lot to penetrate those layers again, but it will happen!
Shlee Verde: YAY!! (Does dance along with Shlee Verde) You cute little genius you, you anticipated Sandyman a looong way back, didn't you? I recall at like chapter 12 you suggested him and as I spurted coffee onto my screen I went 'damn this reviewer's good!' "Of course, now we have Frodo more confused, like, why did Bilbo leave me? You know what I mean, that sort of angst": Pretty much, unfortunately. I'm starting to realize pent up fury for guys and their ignorance and instability when it comes to communicating and saying what's really on their mind instead of cryptic gibberish has just consumed this story. Heheee. "I would love to see a sequel for this story. Strasser could come back for revenge or something": Ack, you write it! If I dare say I'm intending for Frodo to get re-snatched at this point I'll have pillows thrown at me. I'll see, I've got some ideas up my sleeve, but I'm gonna finish this first.
Elwen: "I crave more feverish Frodo": (Sigh) Lord, Elwen, you FrodoHealers! I love you, I swear I do, but I'm at quite a conflict with trying to get to the cuddly chapters and here I've got you and Lily going "Keep him sick! Keep him bedridden!" Heehee, well for your guy's pleasure, I added in a FrodoHealer scene. Enjoy.
Radia: Thank you so much for the kind words, Radia. Am glad I'm still on your 'to read' list. :) I'm glad you're pleased with my decision for taking the long-road to recovery. Considering how sht I've put these characters though, it would be wrong for me NOT to give them time to recover, even if that means there'll still be some spots still where Bilbo and Frodo have to work to getting everything straightened out, and I'm hoping the extended comfort will help to ease all of you beloved, traumatized readers. :) "I can't wait for future chapters to see how Frodo develops further (and I'd love to see a little bit of Merry too)": Rest assured, Frodo's character's going to expand in upcoming chapters, and Merry will be back right after this chapter. He's got quite a part to play yet. Sadly, it wasn't Aragorn as one of the rangers, just another noble, scrubby soul out there. I figured I'd gone AU enough at this point, and sequel? We shall see....right now, I just strive to get this one done. :)
Myfanwy: Hey Myfanwy! (Places tissues in Myfanwy's hands). I sorry I drag you all on this despairing journey, I promise I will not let you down soon enough! Just bare with me through Frodo's rough first day back. :)
Bookworm2000: Hey Bookworm! "What if Sandyman came back in with the ruffians when Frodo, Sam, Merry and Pippin were gone?" Quite possibly! "Could he have been the reason Ted went bad?": Most likely. "Was that Aragorn there with the rangers? You could do a bit where he first meets Frodo and recognizes him as the rescued hobbit": That's an idea, you're making me regret not fitting him in there. I could instead make it that Aragorn has heard of what happened, and is stunned to see the Ringbearer be the same hobbit and go 'man this kid can't get a break! Orphan, kidnapped for ransom and traumatized horribly, burdened with the object that may lead to the unending of the world!' Heehee, quite an idea, though Shirebound's beaten me to a sequel featuring a pre-LOTR Frodo and Aragorn meeting and then reuniting for the question in BcoP, and Shlee Verde's suggesting the sequel should feature an escaped Strasser out for revenge. Heehee, I'll have to pick out of a hat. :)
Heartofahobbit: Hey there, heartofahobbit! Danke for the lovely review! "Will Frodo understand why Bilbo had to leave again or will he see this as just another example of Bilbo's abandonment of him?" (Ducks head and runs) Eek....kind of the second one. You're exactly right about Frodo's character there, as I've tried to portray him, that he's been through so much and yet he still struggles to find some meaning through all his suffering, even when he's kicked down again and again. Though that's the real happy ending I'm trying to work out, where Frodo is completely assured that his struggling isn't for nothing, and he does have an uncle that loves him more than even he imagined. "Is Frodo going to 'set himself up for disappointment'?" Heehee, you're anticipating my plot with great ease! Very much how I had it planned. As Frodo is comforted, he'll lose a lot of his insecurities and even when he doubts good things to happen (in a sense, he grows stronger in preparing himself for less than wonderful things) he'll be all the more amazed at how many care for him. At least that's what I'm going to try to convey. :)
Thanks to all who reviewed! Sorry if I didn't get to you all, know I love you all for your kind insight!
Mrs. Gamgee was waiting in the hallway when Bilbo and Hamfast returned, her expression pale and strained as she stood, wringing her hands together before her. Bilbo stopped halfway inside the door, tension that had just recently begun to dissipate from his frame returning with a shudder.
"What's wrong," he asked, forcing the apprehension out of his voice.
"I'm relieved that you're home, sir."
"You don't look it," he answered, critically.
Hamfast followed behind him, and at seeing him enter, Mrs. Gamgee's attention flittered for a second to her husband.
"T'were Sandyman, Bell," Hamfast answered the question written on her face. "He were the one."
"Sandyman?" she gasped, putting a hand to her mouth. "Oh goodness. I - I used to serve the scoundrel drinks when he came to the Inn. What's to be done with him?"
"He's been exiled from the Shire. The ranger's are plannin' to decide what's next to be done with 'im, along with the ruffian they caught. What they're plannin' to do with 'im....well, we can only guess. . ." Hamfast trailed off.
Bell nodded, her hand still cupping her open mouth.
"Frodo," Bilbo said, eager to move on to the next subject. "How is he?"
Fear latched to him, straining his already rigid limbs when she didn't respond right away. "What, what is it?" he demanded. An answer came to him, and his throat went dry. "No. . .he's not. . .no. . ."
"No," she said, quickly, raising her head. "No, he's going to be all right. It's. . .it's not as bad as that."
"Well, then what?" he asked, frowning.
Mrs. Gamgee opened her mouth to speak, but paused as Doctor Burrows slowly approached from down the hall. They both carried the tense, discomforted appearance of one recovering from some grave shock they did not want to relive.
"How is he?" Bilbo repeated, aggravation rising in him as the seconds passed in suspense of the bad news he knew that was coming.
Taking a deep breath, Doctor Burrows set his bad down upon a set of drawers and began to put some of his supplies away, numerous small bottles and cloth bandages. He too was postponing from speaking, and Bilbo was just ready to move past to him to Frodo's room when he finally spoke.
"Master Baggins, I'm aware of what you've been through in these past weeks," Doctor Burrows's voice was low, and laced with an indiscernible combination of bitterness, and pity. "Which is why I wish I had better news to report. But," he paused, and finally turned slowly to face the master of Bag End, "Your nephew's condition is very grave indeed."
Bilbo started. He was already halfway past Mrs. Gamgee when she grabbed his arm. "Please sir, just listen," she said, earnestly.
He expelled a mighty breath."What is it?" he demanded.
"Master Baggins, I'd wish you would stay her for a moment and hear me out before greeting your nephew. I want only to prepare. . . inform you of your nephew's condition, and what his recovery will include." At saying this, Doctor Burrows brought a hand down to pull a piece of parchment form his pocket.
He needs a list? Bilbo's stomach clenched.
"I'll start first with the good, sir, if that's all right. It was lucky to have Doctor Cotton there as well to assist, and together we were able to treat your nephew's injuries as well as his fever. I can now say, with full certainty, that he is out of any serious danger, and I can assure a slow, but full recovery."
"How slow?"
The doctor's shoulders lifted and hung for a moment in uncertainty. "It's still too early to say, sir. As you've must've seen yourself, he was badly injured and. . .well, leading into the rest," he said, clearing his throat and glancing down at the parchment. "The most serious wounds were on his left arm and his right hand, where it appears he was either cut or stabbed. Both wounds had been previously cleaned and bandaged, which did a great deal of good, but there were still complications not attended to. For one, the cut on his palm was badly infected, and no doubt contributed to the boy's fever. We were able to remove the infection and properly clean and bandage the hand, though I must advise that he not use the hand for several days. It was obviously paining him, and it will take time for the cut to heal."
"Did he need stitches?" Bilbo asked, fearfully.
"No. It was shallow enough that stitches wasn't necessary," Doctor Burrows replied. "However, the wound on his arm was a deeper gash. In fact, as he removed the bandage, the wound re-opened a bit and began to bleed a little. We were forced to stitch it up. Both wounds," he added, at seeing the horror on Bilbo's face, "Will heal with time. His left arm will be stiff for several weeks, and as I said his other hand should not be used for tasks even as simple as lifting tea cups for a few days. The bandages will need to be changed daily, and I will be returning to assist with that."
"Besides the two cuts," Doctor Burrows continued, and Bilbo's stomach made another violently clench. "Frodo has bruising over much of his body due to harsh, and persistent abuse. It will take several days, if not more, for them to heal, depending upon their severity. Surprisingly, nothing was broken or sprained. As for his fever, we were able to bring his temperature down once the infection was removed, though he will still be weak with it for some days. His cough will clear up in the next few days, luckily it had not turned into anything worse than bad congestion. I've already made Mrs. Gamgee a list of liquids to give him to help with his sore throat, and with the little food he's been given in the last weeks I recommend that he should be fed light meals at first, as I've written down as well. It will take his body a few days before he'll be able to handle anything heavy, along with the rest of his recovery."
"How long?" Bilbo asked, his throat dry.
"Two weeks, at least," Doctor Burrows replied. "With the combination of so many injuries and sickness, it makes it difficult to say. . ." trailing off at seeing the older hobbit's anguished expression, he hurried to finish by saying, "I am sure that it should not take much longer, with proper care and attention. If it is all right, Doctor Cotton will stay to make sure his fever doesn't return during the night. I will be back in the morning."
His bag packed, Doctor Burrows headed towards the door, pausing midway and turning back to Bilbo one final time. "Master Baggins, I don't think I need to state any further that your nephew suffered horribly at the hands of those men, and I am very sorry for you both. I hope that everything will work out, and that he will be well protected in the future."
His parting words sounded more accusing than either of them had anticipated, and Bilbo's head shot up. Their eyes locked, and the fire in Bilbo's eyes quickly died at the honest concern he was met with. For a second he stood frozen as the words sunk in, in their full meaning and intensity, and then he sagged on the spot, his head nodding. He didn't dare look up as Doctor Burrows quietly bid them all good-bye, and left.
In the silence that followed after the doctor's departure, Bilbo could still hear the remnants of his voice echoing in his head, proclaiming all that had befallen his nephew while he had sat here waiting. . .then searching. . .then grieving. . .
'Your nephew suffered terribly. . .'
'Badly injured. . .
'Two weeks at least. . .'
A hand suddenly appeared on his shoulder and a tentative 'Sir' reached his ringing ears.
"What else," he said, thickly. "There's more. . . I can see it in your eyes."
Her bonneted head dipped, reluctantly. "There is."
"What happened?"
"I. . . I don't feel blame for this, sir," she began, earnestly, and brought her hands up.
Everyone seemed to be greeting him with that warning.
"I know they dragged you off, an' you couldn't help it. But Mr. Frodo became rather. . .hysterical. . .after you left. Mostly it were the fever, the doctor's thought," she added, quickly, when Bilbo started. "It were still hard, an' scary for 'im, not havin' you here. He kept askin' me where you were, an' I. . .well, I didn't know if you'd feel right for me to tell 'im where you'd gone, it might scare 'im more. But he thought you weren't comin' back at all, even when we tried to tell 'im different – " Mrs. Gamgee stopped, seeing her master starting to fall apart. "Sam's bein' there helped, I think," she added, lightly. "I think it calmed 'im down some, to see 'im there when the doctors went about takin' care of 'im."
The older hobbit nodded slowly. "What else?" he asked, not looking at her.
With in an inward sigh, Mrs. Gamgee dove into an account of what had happened after he had left. Even as she spoke, flashes of what happened came back to her, and she made a careful effort to leave out some parts that would be too painful for her master to hear.
(Flashback)
"Frodo, it's all right, calm down!" Mrs. Gamgee hushed, pressing his flailing arm to his side. After his uncle's departure, he had become restless again, and the doctor had requested she take charge of calming him down, hoping her familiar face would help.
It wasn't right, she had thought to herself as she sat by him. Had she not stayed by Frodo's side when Bilbo had been hustled out the door, she would've given Milo a piece of her mind for making her master leave like that. This was the worst possible time they could've dragged Bilbo away, and Frodo had only known her just a few months. So it surprised her when Frodo quieted at her familiar voice.
"Bilbo?" he croaked. His glassy eyes darted about the room as though his uncle might be playing some cruel game of hiding behind a corner.
"Shh, he's not here, dear," she said, gently brushing his limp bangs out of his face.
"W-where'd he go?" he asked, frowning deeply.
"He had to leave," she said, biting down on her lip when she failed to fathom a quick excuse. It would be horrifying for the boy to hear that his uncle had left him to expose the hobbit that had condemned him to this in the first place, or even devastating that his uncle had gone to do that first. Though his uncle didn't have a choice, could she really explain all that to a feverish, barely coherent boy? No, the only thing she could do was offer him reassurance, and not go into the rest. "He had to go somewhere for a little while, but he'll be back soon. I promise."
Her words didn't have the effect she hoped for. Frodo snapped his eyes shut, tears slipping down the sides of his face.
"H-he always. . .l-leaves – " his strained voice broke as he was seized by another coughing fit. Mrs. Gamgee quietly shushed him again, and bent over to hold his shoulders as he curled onto his side.
Samwise had gone to retrieve a few blankets she had left in the hallway, and he returned to witness his friend in pain as he buried his hacking into a pillow. The young Gamgee scurried over to position himself beside on the side of the bed next to his mother. "Shh, it's all right Mr. Frodo," he said, in a crooning voice that very closely resembled his mother's. "It's your Sam here. Everythin's gonna be all right."
"Mrs. Gamgee, we must work quickly," Doctor Cotton pressed, his large eyebrows knitting together as he felt the boy's fevered forehead. "We must get him clean before we assess what's wrong."
Nodding, Mrs. Gamgee turned Frodo onto his back again, and began undoing the remaining buttons on his shirt.
The red-rimmed eyes snapped open as hands fumbled at his shirt, and he gasped in terror. "N-no," he rasped, swatting at her and turning a slight shade of red in the process. "D-don't touch me!"
"Dear, we must!" Mrs. Gamgee urged. "We need to clean you up so these doctors here can make you better."
"N-no," he gasped, fighting against her in an effort to curl back into himself.
"It's all right, Mr. Frodo," Sam said, perching over the bed and smiling, sheepishly. "It's just my Ma, sir. She ain't gonna hurt you. She's given me baths before, an' I'm still 'ere."
At hearing his friend's voice, the shaking figure stilled slightly, and the sharp, gasping breaths slowed. Mrs. Gamgee waited a moment before tentatively guiding her arms about the boy's tiny frame, and lifting him off the bed. Though he didn't struggle, she could feel the tenseness in his limbs as she carried him across the room to where a small tub had been brought.
"Now dear, we're just going to clean you up, all right?" she asked, peering into his face. "Just relax."
A sigh of relief escaped her when he didn't struggle as she undid the rest of his shirt.
Oh my, he's filthy, she thought, her nose wrinkling at the noxious smell that emanated from him. His clothes were nothing more than bloody rags now, and she quickly discarded them on the floor, prepared to throw them out the first chance she had.
"S-Sam's here?" he asked, hoarsely. His head craned lethargically behind him.
"Yes, sir. I'm here, Mr. Frodo," Sam called, rushing over and gently folding his un-bandaged hand in his own. The boy squinted, as though it was difficult for him to see, and then he turned to the hobbit that was adjusting him in her lap.
"Mrs. Gamgee?"
"Yes, it's me," she said, worry overlapping her relief as she held him. The poor boy. He was so sick.
Quickly easing him out of the rest of his clothes, she dipped him into the half-filled tub. The water was lukewarm and he gave a violent shudder as he sank in, though the fever and weakness made him unable to protest as Mrs. Gamgee scrubbed away at his tender skin.
Both her and Sam had swallowed back tears as she had cleaned away his skin to see that many patches of dark along his sides and on his back were not dirt stains, but bruises. And he was so thin and light in Mrs. Gamgee's hold, his ribs protruding from his chest.
To the doctor's dismay, it took a good half-hour for Mrs. Gamgee to rid him of the dirt, grime and blood that covered him. By the time she lifted him out of the tub and wrapped him in fresh towels, the water had turned black.
Frodo had started coughing again while in the tub, and Samwise had ran to fetch a cup of tea, which he drank eagerly. At the doctor's command, Mrs. Gamgee eased him into one of his nightshirts, and carried him back to his bed. The tea and bath had both eased his shaking, and he'd slipped back into a feverish doze.
They had begun by removing the bandages, which Mrs. Gamgee had been careful not to disturb while she had cleaned him. Doctor Cotton had positioned himself on the opposite side of the bed so he could remove the bandage wrapped around Frodo's arm, while Doctor Burrows removed the one on his other hand.
Problems arose almost immediately. First, the wound on Frodo's arm re-opened as Doctor Cotton pulled a bit too hard at a part of the bandage that was stuck to crusted blood, and Mrs. Gamgee had quickly helped to put pressure on the arm as it started to bleed.
"This hand's infected," Doctor Cotton said, his voice grave as he peered down at the swollen hand. "We have to remove the infection, before it gets any worse."
Taking the small hand in both of his, the doctor began to pinch at the half-sealed wound to remove the build-up of infection in between. Pain seared through the wound like a lightning bolt, and the boy had practically leapt up in shock.
"D-don't!" he protested, his chest palpitating with gasps of agony. His fever was rising, and Mrs. Gamgee tried to quiet him as she placed cool, wet rags on his forehead. Yet nothing seemed to help, and his little body, despite all it had been through continued to fight off the pain that tore through him as the doctor strove to pinch out the infection.
"This is too much for him," Doctor Cotton protested, his face crumbling as the little hobbit continued to thrash. "It would be best to sedate him, don't you think? To unburden him from the pain altogether."
"Yes, that would be best," Doctor Burrows agreed, nodding. "Little one," he whispered, bending down so that he was at Frodo's eyes level, "We don't want you to feel this pain anymore, but we need to get the infection out of your hand. So we're going to give you something that will put you to sleep, all right? It will be painless."
They had all thought the idea would surely appease the little hobbit. Instead, his eyes went wide with renewed terror and he grew even more hysterical, even as they assured him that it would help to numb his pain.
"N-no!" he moaned into the pillow. "N-not again! No!"
They had tried to shush him, but no reassurance or even Sam's voice had been able to still him, and in the end Doctor Burrows had no choice to proceed to remove the infection. Luck, or the pain, or both had resulted in the boy passing out anyway, and after that the doctors were able to wash and bandage his hand and his arm. They then went about intermittently putting wet rags on his brow to cool his forehead, and Doctor Burrows forced a concoction of some sort down his throat, claiming it would help to break his fever.
Then they had sat, for what seemed like hours, with Mrs. Gamgee and Sam both flocking to his side, waiting for him to wake.
It was only a half-hour before Bilbo and Hamfast returned that the boy's eyes slowly cracked open, still terribly bloodshot, but shed of the glassy look of fever.
"Mr. Frodo, are you all right?" Samwise had rushed forward before her, and clasped his hand.
Frodo's brows knitted together in confusion, and he managed to lift his head an inch from the pillow to better see his friend.
"Sam?" He looked at him as though he'd just woken up after nodding off from a conversation hours ago, and couldn't remember where they had left off.
Making an effort to not squeeze him too hard, but unrestrained by joy, Sam threw his arms around the friend he'd grown to care for so deeply, and was now safe and secure in his own bed. Mrs. Gamgee and Sam had been helping to feed him some broth and water when Bilbo and Hamfast had returned.
(End flashback)
Although Mrs. Gamgee had tried to emphasize the comfort and relief of what had happened, it had been unavoidable to explain the range of injuries he had suffered, as well as the pain he experienced in being treated. Even when she quickly moved on to explain what had happened when he'd awoken, there was nothing she could say to jostle the old, weary hobbit out of the shock of listening to the earlier part.
There was a long pause once she was finished, with Bilbo now seated on the edge of his chair, his head between his knees, his hands grasping his pepper-gray curls.
"His fever's near gone, sir, last I checked," she said, reassuringly. "As the doctors said, his fever and cough were most likely due to infection an' just plain weakness, and it's not gotten any worse than that."
Bilbo nodded, but didn't look up. And if his throat wasn't so dry, he would've tried to tell her that he even if he'd wanted to, he didn't know if he'd be able to look up. For as she'd spoken, a sudden lightheadedness had come upon him and the furniture started to dance all around him. He'd sunk into the nearest chair, and even then it was as though the chair were taking him on the ride through the air, though he could still hear Mrs. Gamgee speaking perfectly clear as to how Frodo had suffered at his leaving, and the long list of injuries and pain he'd endured while he'd been sitting in this very spot. . . .
Somewhere between the furniture swirling around his head and the pounding headache, Bilbo came upon the crushing realization that after everything, it still wasn't over. FAR from over.
"Frodo," he whispered, hoarsely, covering his face with his hands to hide the tears.
No. . .No. . .NOT Frodo. . .NOT his poor boy. . .not the same he'd just tucked in two weeks ago. . .not the boy who'd already been through so much, too much to have to survive this too. . .
"Why?" he rasped into his hands.
And he'd thought that he'd left the worst of it behind, well now he had to see what his pride and his foolishness had done to the lad. He was here now, right down the hall, waiting for him. . .perhaps that was why he could barely rise from where he was. His chest burned with the ever-thriving guilt, and the surmounting fear that he'd fail to ever make it up to Frodo.
What could he do? What could he possibly say to Frodo to help him forget this?
"Is he awake?" he asked, finding the strength to lift his head. Anxiety further marred his already exhausted features. "Is somebody with him? He's not alone, is he?"
"No, of course not," she answered. "Samwise is with him."
Bilbo nodded. "Good....good," he said, continuing to nod, the action repeating itself as he struggled to find the strength to walk down the hall and face his nephew.
He stood for a moment, nodding to Mrs. Gamgee who stood nearby that he was all right, and then sank back down on weakened knees.
"I -I don't know what to say to him," he said, his voice hollow as he stared with deadened eyes at the hallway.
Mrs. Gamgee paused from speaking as the door to Bag End suddenly burst open, and Halfred Gamgee came rushing in.
"Ma, can you come?" he asked, breathing heavily. "There be. . .oh, Mr. Bilbo!" he suddenly exclaimed, turning to see the master of Bag End sitting in a chair behind him. "Forgive me, sir, I didn't mean to burst in like that, it's just."
"Just what?" he asked. But the young Gamgee was reluctant to tell him, and he quickly whispered a few words in his mother's ear.
"What?" she exclaimed. "Oh for goodness sakes. Sir, I will be back," she said, turning to him. "The crowd that were outside Bag End's now gathered round the Inn, and they're causin' a fuss. I'll be back promptly."
Bilbo nodded, too distraught to argue.
"Sir, I've been asked to report somethin' to you," Halfred said, "that the master of Buckland be comin' here tomorrow."
"What?" Bilbo looked up in astonishment. "Saradoc's returning?"
"Yes, sir. He were in Tuckborough with young Meriadoc, and news reached there quickly of what happened. He's comin' in the mornin' to talk with you, and he's bringin' Mr. Merry along with 'im."
His chest made another painful wrench as he listened. He had no doubt why Saradoc was coming, and what his intentions would be. Though anger shuddered through his frame, he couldn't blame him. Saradoc had every right to confront him, something Bilbo knew he had wanted to do when he had come to collect Merry, but under the grief of the situation and his hurry to leave, he'd held off.
Dread ran through him. What was Saradoc going to say, do, when he saw what Frodo had been through. After all, Frodo was Saradoc's nephew as well, and until three months ago had been his guardian for the psat twelve years.
Bilbo didn't even need to wonder what Saradoc's reaction would be. It wouldn't matter that Bilbo had saved Frodo in the end, along with the help of rangers. It wouldn't change the fact that this was HIS fault. This wouldn't have happened had he not allowed Bilbo to adopt him, letting him to wander off on his own. . .
Bilbo could recall down to the most bitter details the expression on Saradoc's face when he'd left Bag End after collecting Merry. The hard frown, distrust and devastation fighting in the worry lines of his face.
Halfred was still whispering to his father, who had now come into the room. Bilbo strained his ears, as he could hear bits and pieces of what he was saying.
"Halfred, you can jus'. . . .tell em'. . .no such thing. . ."
"Should've asked. . .them rangers. . .stick around. . ."
"Why?" Bilbo demanded, tearing out his chair again. "What's happened now?"
Both Gamgees flinched at his rapid approach, as though they hadn't intended Bilbo to hear.
"Oh, nothin, sir," Halfred said, weakly. But the older hobbit pressed him to speak. "What is it?" Bilbo demanded.
"It's. . .it's jus'," Halfred stammered, "The gossip's startin' again, and it's bad. This time they're all afeared for their children gettin' snatched by ruffians, afraid this might happen again. And. . .and some are soundin' awfully concerned for poor Mr. Frodo, sayin' they might try it again, that what's there to stop this from happenin' again – "
"Halfred, that's enough!" Hamfast admonished, clutching his son's arm as he witnessed his master's face turn an alarming shade of green. "Don't talk so!"
"Sorry sir," Halfred said, swallowing. "I shouldn't 've said that, sir."
"No, no it's -" Bilbo trailed off, his face completely draining of color as the utter thought struck him. Elbereth, he hadn't realized that. In the constant rush and worry of just getting Frodo back, he hadn't considered all that was to be dealt with when he was returned. "It's true. I," he looked around Bag End, wildly. Fear rose in him again, accompanied by a suffocating despair. "I can't keep him here!"
"They be just talkin', sir," Halfred protested. "You know how they like to talk. . .it's jus' talk!"
"Not necessarily," Bilbo said, chewing vigorously on his lip. Just the thought. . .if it had happened once, if there was one hobbit willing to do this, what might stop another from doing the same? Now, more than ever, everyone knew how much he was willing to risk for the lad.
With a frustrated groan, he cast himself onto the chair again. He just wished he could rush into the room right now, embrace his nephew and put this all behind them!
But he couldn't, and that thought kept him in place, both out of fear and out of respect for the boy. Frodo wouldn't ever be able to forget this, let alone forgive him. And he couldn't deny that there was a chance this could happen again. Sure, it sounded ridiculous, but then it had seemed ridiculous for this to happen in the first place. He couldn't risk it, not with Frodo, not ever!
It was a simple solution.. 'No.' Bilbo clutched his chest as the answer dawned on him, the worst one but the only one. Significance of what Halfred had said and Saradoc's arrival suddenly made a profound sense, and he realized what he would have to do, even as 'NO!' rung in his ears.
But that was the selfish part of him talking. By the Shire, he wouldn't give Frodo up, not now, not knowing how much he needed the lad, how essential he was to his own self! He couldn't give him up, not for anything!
Except his safety.
How could the lad possibly be safe with him now! After everything he'd put him through. . .how could his boy ever trust him again?
Though it almost seemed comfortable to allow his mind to run round in circles, truth seized him and he couldn't hide from it. He couldn't protect his nephew. His being here, his remaining with him after he'd rescued him. . .he was just putting him in more danger.
For the first time since this had started, Bilbo laid aside his own wishes, his own intentions, as he faced a new chapter to this horror. It wasn't even about him anymore. It was about Frodo, and before anything else happened, the most important thing was for him to be kept safe.
"Sir, should we bring Samwise home?" Hamfast suddenly inquired.
"I - no, it's all right, Hamfast," Bilbo said, rising slowly. "If it's all right with you, he can stay here the rest of the night. I think Frodo would want him here."
"Very well, sir," Hamfast replied. He noticed a slight change in his master. There was a raw pain livid in his eyes, but his features were grim and firmly set. He stood stiff with resolve.
"Sir, what is it?"
"I - I can't keep him here," Bilbo said, shaking his head as though to confirm this for himself.
"Sir, they jus' be rumors!" Halfred protested. Both Gamgees stared at Bilbo in shock.
"Perhaps," he said, evenly. "But then, what if it's not? What if there's one hobbit who takes it serious. And. . .I can't risk letting this happen again. Even if it won't. . .I can't give anyone the chance. . ."
"Then what do you plan to do?" Hamfast inquired.
The older hobbit sighed, scrubbing at his face. "I don't know. . .let Saradoc Brandybuck take Frodo for now. He'll be safe in Brandy Hall, his relatives all know him and care for him there. And then later. . .well . . ."
Ideas started to come to him, lifting some of the weight off his heart. Maybe he could take Frodo away with him, somewhere away from the Shire, Rivendell if he must, anywhere just as long as it was away from here. Elbereth knew the poor boy would benefit from the healing powers of Lord Elrond's land.
"Sir, it's still so soon to make any rash decisions, wouldn't you say?" Hamfast said, carefully. "An' the doctor's said he shouldn't be moved anytime soon."
"I don't mean now, this very moment," he answered, his gaze wandering about his home, skeptically. "But. . .I can't keep him here. Not after all that's happened."
Halfred and Hamfast both knew that Bilbo was exhausted and he'd been through too much in a short amount of time, but he was trying to make decisions too fast. If he just let things settle for a few hours, a few days. . . but they weren't the ones to say.
After a few moments of quiet discussion, the Gamgees bid Bilbo good-bye, and left.
Now there was no avoiding what he had to do. Even as he crept down the hall, his steps slowed every few feet and he had to resist from turning back, or not doing this at all. He didn't WANT to do this. And the closer he walked towards his nephew's door. . .the closer he was to letting him go.
It was so ironic. To have saved him, only to realize that he must lose him to protect him in the way he'd promised he would do.
As Bilbo approached the room, it was the steady voice in his head that willed him forward. 'You're doing the right thing. . . for him.'
His throat clenched as he stopped at the open door. He could hear weeping from inside. It was Sam. He'd positioned himself beside the bed, where Mrs. Gamgee had previously been, and he was looking down at the tiny lump in the bed, covered with layers of blankets and quilts.
He could hear little Samwise whispering to him. They had obviously been talking for a while, and for a second he considered waiting, not wanting to intrude. But Samwise looked up and saw him, and the room was invaded by an uncomfortable silence.
Bilbo approached the bed, each step slow and jerky. He heard Sam whisper, "It's all right, Mr. Frodo, Mr. Bilbo's here now," and the little form beneath stiffen under the blankets.
Frodo tried to calm his ragged breaths as he heard his uncle's presence in the room. Anger and fear still burned into him from his uncle's 'necessary' departure, and he wasn't ready to talk to his uncle. Sam peered down at him, and Frodo poked his hand out from beneath the blankets to clasp his friend's hand. Sam had been there when he'd finally woken up from what felt like years of being lost in that feverish haze. He'd promised him that Bilbo would be backsoon, that he didn't know where he'd gone, but not to worry.
Unfortunately, his uncle's departure had all but re-opened wounds in his heart that he'd just been stupid enough to give into. What could have been so important that his uncle had to leave him just as he dumped him onto his bed? He didn't know. . .maybe, he didn't want to know, especially if were something stupid that would completely crush him again.
Frodo heard his uncle's tentative steps, and he buried his face into his pillow, curling up into a ball despite the pain that wracked his body. His warm blankets, his room, even Sam's hand squeezing his didn't feel like even of a shield from the fresh anguish of the last few hours.
A hand suddenly fell upon his head, the only part of him poking out from the blankets beside his hand, and remained there.
"Frodo," Bilbo whispered, dropping down into a chair. When the boy didn't respond, he turned to Sam. "Is he awake?"
"Yes," Sam said, and bent down closer to the bed. "Sir, Mr. Bilbo's here."
"I know, Sam," came a muffled reply.
He was angry. No wonder.
"Frodo, I'm sorry I had to leave like that," Bilbo said, his voice thick and he leaned closer to the bend, his hand still resting on the boy's curls.
He did sound sorry, Frodo couldn't help but admit. But there was a reluctancy in his voice that strengthened his fear that his uncle was holding back on saying something.
"Are you all right?" Bilbo asked, patting at the heap of blankets upon him. "I mean, are you feeling a little bit better?"
"Yes," he answered. Well, he supposed he was feeling a bit better. The pains in his sides from where Strasser must have kicked him when he was unconscious hurt worse than ever, and his arm was stinging where they had stitched the cut. The doctors had told him they would take a few days to heal. But he was awake, and he could talk without a burning coughing fit coming upon him. . .he supposed that was progress. (He shifted around a little)
"Good. . .I'm glad," Bilbo said, mustering a smile of relief. (He stammered a little)
Frodo's other hand suddenly peeked out from under the pillow, and Bilbo moved to hold it (hoping it was an invitation to hold it). (Yet as he did, his own hand froze and a cold lump formed in his throat as he) Then he saw the deep gouges in the tiny wrist where the ropes had cut into his skin, and the smile drained from his face.
His head fell, guilt ripping his insides apart. (Being freshly ripped apart.) He knew what he had to do.
"Why did you leave?" Frodo asked, abruptly. His tone was muffled by the pillow, but bitterness still seeped through.
"I didn't want to," Bilbo said, quickly, and rose again from the chair so that he was perched over him. "I. . .you've been through so much tonight, and before, I. . .I don't know if you want to know just yet."
"Tell me," Frodo responded, bitterly, flinching as he felt his uncle smoothing out the covers over him. Fury and fear warred within him, and he couldn't figure out which one to listen to more.
"There. . .there was a hobbit," Bilbo's defeated voice reached his ears. "It was a hobbit that told those ruffians about you, and my. . .my money."
"I know," Frodo mumbled.
"Oh," Bilbo breathed. "I. . .I didn't know if you knew. Did you see him? Did you know who it was?"
"No," Frodo said, the awful memory of the hobbit slinking away from him, wrapping himself up in a nice, warm shawl as he lay freezing in the grass coming back to him. "His face had been covered," he added, wondering why Bilbo was telling him this.
"Oh. . .I see. Well," he stammered, frustrated at how hard it suddenly was to articulate a single sentence. What was the matter with him, after he'd worked up so much to say to his nephew, and now he was stumbling over the simplest explanations! Frodo's stiff, bitter replies were making it all the more difficult. "Well, we caught him," he finished. "Rather, the rangers that helped to save you caught him. And. . .they needed me to identify him, to make sure he was the same one that I'd seen in the forest."
Frodo was silent for a moment. "Who was it?"
"It was Sandyman. He's. . .or rather, he was, the miller in Hobbiton."
"Sandyman?" The name didn't sound familiar, even after his three months living in Hobbiton. Groaning a little, Frodo lifted his head and turned, frowning indiscernibly. "Who's that?"
"I know, you don't know him," Bilbo said, heavily. "I barely did. But he's the one that – "
Bilbo's voice cut off as he watched Frodo's eyes drop. A wild, haunted look filled them as flashes of everything he must've been through came back in a tumult.
"Frodo," he whispered, his voice cracking a little. When he tried to put a hand on his shoulder, the boy stiffened and a hard, pained expression came into his face before he pulled away, burying his face in his pillow.
It had been more out of instinct than genuine anger that made him flinch at the touch, and Frodo saw his uncle shrink a little, but he couldn't help it.
Frodo's response tore at another string in Bilbo's insides. So he was angry with him. No wonder. He deserved it. And they had so much to talk out, he had so much to apologize for. . .but the reminder of what he knew he had to do came back. That had to come first, he had to let Frodo know that he was safe, that this wouldn't happen ever again.
Bilbo positioned himself in his chair, sliding it as closely to the bed as he could. He didn't want to do this. His heart screamed not to. . . but it wasn't about what he wanted.
"Frodo listen," he said, forcing his voice to remain even. "I'm so sorry this happened. I. . . I can't say enough how sorry I am."
Bilbo looked for a response, hoping that his nephew would acknowledge him somehow, yet he remained silent beneath the covers, making it all the more difficult to go on. If only he would look at him. . .just so he could see his face. . .
"This was my fault, Frodo," he said. "For more reasons than I can ever list. But just. . .whatever happened there. . . know that you're home now. You're safe." Bilbo reached out, and touched the curls again to emphasize this point. He felt a flurry of hope when the boy relaxed slightly.
"But. . .but now after everything's that happened, there's still danger. There's still the chance that you're in danger. It's horrible, but I. . .I've put you in this danger, bringing you here. And that's the last thing I want," he paused to swallow, trying to avert his eyes at seeing Sam's face scrunching up. "That's why. . .your Uncle Saradoc's coming here tomorrow, along with Merry to see you. And I'm. . . I'm going to ask him to take you back to Brandy Hall. Maybe just for a little while, as things settle down," he added, remembering the idea he'd bring up to him later of traveling to Rivendell. "I know that you don't like in Brandy Hall very much, but you'll be protected there. You'll be safe."
The little lump beneath the covers was silent. Bilbo bent over him, trying to discern what response, if any, he would get from the boy.
"Frodo," he whispered.
"Go away," came a muffled replied.
Tears started in his eyes, (he felt the urge to gather him up in his arms, just take him away, forget the idea. He didn't know if he had the strength to let him go, not now, but he had to. . . he wasn't safe here. . . ). "Frodo please, understand, I don't want to do this – "
"Just go away!" Frodo cried, gasping against the pain as he maneuvered himself so that he was turned completely away from his uncle.
Bilbo nearly slumped over the bed, tremors of defeat threatening to overcame him. His head pitched down to his chest. More than anything, he wanted to take it back, to gather the boy in his arms and just vanish from the Shire forever. . .but now, his nephew would most likely strike him if he dared speak to him again.
His nephew didn't want him there. He'd told him to leave. If it was the only thing he could do for him, he obeyed, and walked out the door.
Frodo sobbed into the pillow. That. . . that was it. That was what he'd feared. From the moment he'd walked out the door that morning so long ago, to the moment Bilbo had crept into the room, guilt and discomfort already evident in his presence. His uncle didn't want him here. Or no, he was 'afraid' to keep him here, as he so eloquently attempted to lie. He could talk all he wanted about wanting to keep him safe, and fearing for his safety. It didn't matter, it was the same result, the same ending. In a few days, he was going to find himself back in Brandy Hall.
There was no uncle eager to welcome him home. . .no home to call his own. . .no happy ending, or something even closely resembling one waiting for him somewhere beyond everything terrible that had happened.
Why was he so shocked?
"Mr. Frodo, it's all right," Samwise's tear-filled voice penetrated the dark haze, and Frodo felt his friend laying comforting hands upon his trembling shoulders.
But as Frodo felt his hear ripped of its remaining shreds, he knew it wasn't. It wasn't going to be. Never again.
TBC
(Waves as everyone abandons the story). Please o please don't kill me! It's not the smoothest road to recovery, at least not the first few hours.
Happy Ending, I swear!
The first day's a bit rough on everybody, as the shock settles in, dramatic irony makes another appearance as Bilbo tries so hard to do the right thing, or at least what he thinks is the right thing, and does not communicate properly as always and Frodo gets the wrong ideas, etc., and angst therefore ensues. Dammit, they're going to need someone to communicate for them. Anyone guess who? :)
I'm being rough on the race of hobbits as a mass, I know. I'm trying to convey how the panic of everything that's going about is bringing different reactions to different hobbits, and now some are more afraid than ever of the outside world and some are just spreading mean gossip. Though there aren't necessarily others out there who would do such a thing as what Sandyman did, (btw, explanation will be suggested later as to why he was bad like that) but it doesn't matter to Bilbo who's now obsessed with ensuring his nephew's safety. Doesn't come up with the most desired solution, for himself OR Frodo, but he's really, really tired at this point. I don't think he's slept in a few days.
Everything sorted out soon! Just bare with me this first day of complications that seemed inevitable.
Next few chapter's are all in the works, a speedy update I promise!