Author's Notes: The pacing's slowed a little from my original plan, but so
long as we're all enjoying ourselves I'm not inclined to fret overly about
that. Basically, all it means is more story than initially planned.
Please, please, withhold your groans of protest. ;)
I did forget to note this in the last chapter, but Bilbo's procedures in preparing Frodo's tray are indeed accurate: toast-water is a traditional recommendation in invalid-cookery for severe nausea, and is reported as often staying down when nothing else will. Bilbo's preparation is much the same method as used by Fannie Farmer, which appears in her book and is repeated in Pat Willard's A Soothing Broth, which also provides the recipe for the chicken broth included in this scene. (See Chapter 9 for references and titles). It is highly likely that an investigation of Bilbo's kitchen-shelves would reveal several cookbooks, including at least one on cooking for the sick. . .perhaps one of Belladonna Took's old treasures, and very handy with Bilbo's young heir proving to be in variable health. While Bilbo's not going to force a meal down the boy, he is indeed going to press him to take some more liquids: Frodo is, as Dr. Boffin recognised, trapped in something of a self-perpetuating circle of problems. The dehydration makes him feel worse, which makes him feel less interested in drinking or eating, which of course leads to further dehydration, which makes him feel even worse. . . . Had the developments existed in the Shire, he would already have been hospitalised and put on intravenous fluids and injections for his nausea, with things like acetaminophen to reduce fever and aches, but since the Shire reflects a more Victorian setting for medicine, they're kind of stuck with bed rest and comfort care.
As an FYI aside to Minx and others. . .I've decided to go ahead and begin a chaptered fic of the second memory in "Mithril" – yes, Frodo's illness. ;) So there's additional angst-ridden ailing Frodo ahead. ;) That one is likely to be rather long. . . and as I've rather a miserable cold and sore throat at present myself, the first chapter should be up soon. (Nothing like inspiration, but this is inspiration I could gladly have done without! If I were out sick, these chapters would actually go up faster, but we're dealing with a deadline at work, so my writing skills have to go into other documents for most of my day these days. My apologies!) And the other chaptered fic I've been planning is still coming; it's been delayed by my restarting it yesterday. Finally figured out how it should open, which made my current Chapter 1 become Chapter 3 or so, forcing me to write a new Chapter 1 and 2. It's set in the Caradhras scenes, slightly AU due to the fact that we have sufficient detail from Tolkien to know that in his books it didn't happen * quite * the way I'm writing it. . . . ;)
And Minx, time for us to call in the psyc-docs for group therapy, I'm afraid. Should we serve mushrooms in the poor little patient's honour at our first meeting?
Again, thank you all SO much for reading and reviewing!
For permission to reproduce, please contact frodobaggins@frodo.com
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.
SHADOWS IN THE DARKNESS
Chapter Twelve: "Right As Rain"
"Now, then, my boy. . .try and drink some sips of this for me, won't you?"
Frodo looked up as Bilbo brought in a tray, Gandalf following. His stomach tightened, and he winced. "I don't know if I can. . . ."
Wearily Bilbo sat down, his brown eyes dark with fear. "Please, Frodo. You've got to. If there's anything else you'd rather have to drink, name it and I'll make it, get it, whatever you like. . .but you must drink SOMETHING, my boy. Even a few sips every few minutes."
Sam watched, eyes wide, rising promptly to skitter out of the elder hobbit's way and nearly bumping up against Gandalf's legs. This promptly evoked a soft chuckle from the wizard, who reached down to pat the boy's head.
"All right, then." Sighing, Frodo nodded weakly in the tray's direction.
Looking relieved to only slight degree, Bilbo seated himself on the stool, taking up the glassful of toast-water. "Milk or sugar? That sweetens toast-water up a bit, but it's good just to drink it like this, if you can."
"Plain's fine." He allowed Bilbo to lift his head gently, bringing the cup to his lips and tilting it to allow slow sips of the heated drink. To his surprise, it * did * seem to go down without unsettling his stomach, and he drank a little more willingly this time. It seemed to keep his stomach from tightening as if to rebel again.
"Good. . .there's a good boy, now," Bilbo coaxed, continuing to administer small sips as Frodo took them. "That's what you need. . .just a bit more. . . ."
At last Frodo raised his hand, tightening his lips. "No more, please. . .what was the other cup? It smells like soup. . . ."
"It is. Fresh chicken broth, nice and warm. Would you try a little for me?"
Weakly Frodo nodded. It actually smelled appealing, and he had been craving something salty. Again Bilbo brought the cup to his lips and he drank, allowing his guardian to tip the vessel back now and then to offer a few minutes' rest. "Tastes good. . . ."
"I'm glad." Bilbo spoke soothingly, his voice calm and measured. "If you want more in a little while, you may have more. . .there's plenty."
"Maybe later. . . " Yawning, Frodo finished the cupful, draining it to the bottom, before snuggling into the quilts, curling up against Bilbo's arm. "I'm tired. . .want to sleep. . . ."
"Then sleep for a while." Bilbo eased him back onto the pillows, setting the cup aside and replacing the hot water-bottle once more, tucking his charge back in snugly before feeling the lad's forehead. Bending to kiss it, he waits. . .and within a moment, the younger Baggins sleeps. Rising, Bilbo turned, shaking his head as he looked up at Gandalf.
"He still feels feverish to me, Gandalf. At least he got something down. . .do you think it'll help him?"
Young Samwise was still watching in awe, looking on silently. . .until this moment, at least. At the question, he reached up to touch Bilbo's hand.
"Beggin' your pardon, Mr. Bilbo, sir. . .but don't you fret none about that. Mum always said that for th' stomach flu, when somethin' more than a sip o'tea stays down, th' temperature'll follow. She always did say that. . .and I know Mr. Frodo's real delicate and everythin', but if you'll forgive my sayin' so, he's a brave one, and he'll pull through it, right as rain."
Gandalf smiled, taking his customary seat. "Out of the mouths of babes, Bilbo. The boy's right. If Frodo's well enough to drink some broth, he's well enough for his body to fight off the fever. No doubt he'll soon be asking for more, and with a bit more to drink he'll begin feeling better." He nodded in Sam's direction. "Now. . .if you two want to finish that list, Bilbo, I'll sit with Frodo. It won't take you very long, and I'll call you at once if he wakes."
Bilbo looked back at the bed, studying Frodo anxiously. "Please do. . .even if he so much as whimpers, do call me back. I don't want him to feel I've left him."
"I promise." The wizard smiled kindly, then took the piece of wood and knife from his pocket, beginning to carve again. . .a small creature of some sort, its shape not yet discernable.
"All right, then." Drawing a deep breath, Bilbo smiled. "Now, Sam. . .let's go and finish that list for your Gaffer!"
And with that, the pair departed for the kitchen, leaving Gandalf watching over a peacefully sleeping Frodo, his small face still flushed in feverish contrast to the snowy pillowcase beneath his dark curls.
~To Be Continued~
I did forget to note this in the last chapter, but Bilbo's procedures in preparing Frodo's tray are indeed accurate: toast-water is a traditional recommendation in invalid-cookery for severe nausea, and is reported as often staying down when nothing else will. Bilbo's preparation is much the same method as used by Fannie Farmer, which appears in her book and is repeated in Pat Willard's A Soothing Broth, which also provides the recipe for the chicken broth included in this scene. (See Chapter 9 for references and titles). It is highly likely that an investigation of Bilbo's kitchen-shelves would reveal several cookbooks, including at least one on cooking for the sick. . .perhaps one of Belladonna Took's old treasures, and very handy with Bilbo's young heir proving to be in variable health. While Bilbo's not going to force a meal down the boy, he is indeed going to press him to take some more liquids: Frodo is, as Dr. Boffin recognised, trapped in something of a self-perpetuating circle of problems. The dehydration makes him feel worse, which makes him feel less interested in drinking or eating, which of course leads to further dehydration, which makes him feel even worse. . . . Had the developments existed in the Shire, he would already have been hospitalised and put on intravenous fluids and injections for his nausea, with things like acetaminophen to reduce fever and aches, but since the Shire reflects a more Victorian setting for medicine, they're kind of stuck with bed rest and comfort care.
As an FYI aside to Minx and others. . .I've decided to go ahead and begin a chaptered fic of the second memory in "Mithril" – yes, Frodo's illness. ;) So there's additional angst-ridden ailing Frodo ahead. ;) That one is likely to be rather long. . . and as I've rather a miserable cold and sore throat at present myself, the first chapter should be up soon. (Nothing like inspiration, but this is inspiration I could gladly have done without! If I were out sick, these chapters would actually go up faster, but we're dealing with a deadline at work, so my writing skills have to go into other documents for most of my day these days. My apologies!) And the other chaptered fic I've been planning is still coming; it's been delayed by my restarting it yesterday. Finally figured out how it should open, which made my current Chapter 1 become Chapter 3 or so, forcing me to write a new Chapter 1 and 2. It's set in the Caradhras scenes, slightly AU due to the fact that we have sufficient detail from Tolkien to know that in his books it didn't happen * quite * the way I'm writing it. . . . ;)
And Minx, time for us to call in the psyc-docs for group therapy, I'm afraid. Should we serve mushrooms in the poor little patient's honour at our first meeting?
Again, thank you all SO much for reading and reviewing!
For permission to reproduce, please contact frodobaggins@frodo.com
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.
SHADOWS IN THE DARKNESS
Chapter Twelve: "Right As Rain"
"Now, then, my boy. . .try and drink some sips of this for me, won't you?"
Frodo looked up as Bilbo brought in a tray, Gandalf following. His stomach tightened, and he winced. "I don't know if I can. . . ."
Wearily Bilbo sat down, his brown eyes dark with fear. "Please, Frodo. You've got to. If there's anything else you'd rather have to drink, name it and I'll make it, get it, whatever you like. . .but you must drink SOMETHING, my boy. Even a few sips every few minutes."
Sam watched, eyes wide, rising promptly to skitter out of the elder hobbit's way and nearly bumping up against Gandalf's legs. This promptly evoked a soft chuckle from the wizard, who reached down to pat the boy's head.
"All right, then." Sighing, Frodo nodded weakly in the tray's direction.
Looking relieved to only slight degree, Bilbo seated himself on the stool, taking up the glassful of toast-water. "Milk or sugar? That sweetens toast-water up a bit, but it's good just to drink it like this, if you can."
"Plain's fine." He allowed Bilbo to lift his head gently, bringing the cup to his lips and tilting it to allow slow sips of the heated drink. To his surprise, it * did * seem to go down without unsettling his stomach, and he drank a little more willingly this time. It seemed to keep his stomach from tightening as if to rebel again.
"Good. . .there's a good boy, now," Bilbo coaxed, continuing to administer small sips as Frodo took them. "That's what you need. . .just a bit more. . . ."
At last Frodo raised his hand, tightening his lips. "No more, please. . .what was the other cup? It smells like soup. . . ."
"It is. Fresh chicken broth, nice and warm. Would you try a little for me?"
Weakly Frodo nodded. It actually smelled appealing, and he had been craving something salty. Again Bilbo brought the cup to his lips and he drank, allowing his guardian to tip the vessel back now and then to offer a few minutes' rest. "Tastes good. . . ."
"I'm glad." Bilbo spoke soothingly, his voice calm and measured. "If you want more in a little while, you may have more. . .there's plenty."
"Maybe later. . . " Yawning, Frodo finished the cupful, draining it to the bottom, before snuggling into the quilts, curling up against Bilbo's arm. "I'm tired. . .want to sleep. . . ."
"Then sleep for a while." Bilbo eased him back onto the pillows, setting the cup aside and replacing the hot water-bottle once more, tucking his charge back in snugly before feeling the lad's forehead. Bending to kiss it, he waits. . .and within a moment, the younger Baggins sleeps. Rising, Bilbo turned, shaking his head as he looked up at Gandalf.
"He still feels feverish to me, Gandalf. At least he got something down. . .do you think it'll help him?"
Young Samwise was still watching in awe, looking on silently. . .until this moment, at least. At the question, he reached up to touch Bilbo's hand.
"Beggin' your pardon, Mr. Bilbo, sir. . .but don't you fret none about that. Mum always said that for th' stomach flu, when somethin' more than a sip o'tea stays down, th' temperature'll follow. She always did say that. . .and I know Mr. Frodo's real delicate and everythin', but if you'll forgive my sayin' so, he's a brave one, and he'll pull through it, right as rain."
Gandalf smiled, taking his customary seat. "Out of the mouths of babes, Bilbo. The boy's right. If Frodo's well enough to drink some broth, he's well enough for his body to fight off the fever. No doubt he'll soon be asking for more, and with a bit more to drink he'll begin feeling better." He nodded in Sam's direction. "Now. . .if you two want to finish that list, Bilbo, I'll sit with Frodo. It won't take you very long, and I'll call you at once if he wakes."
Bilbo looked back at the bed, studying Frodo anxiously. "Please do. . .even if he so much as whimpers, do call me back. I don't want him to feel I've left him."
"I promise." The wizard smiled kindly, then took the piece of wood and knife from his pocket, beginning to carve again. . .a small creature of some sort, its shape not yet discernable.
"All right, then." Drawing a deep breath, Bilbo smiled. "Now, Sam. . .let's go and finish that list for your Gaffer!"
And with that, the pair departed for the kitchen, leaving Gandalf watching over a peacefully sleeping Frodo, his small face still flushed in feverish contrast to the snowy pillowcase beneath his dark curls.
~To Be Continued~