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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 Thirteen: Nightmares, Memories, and Mushroom Soup
***He was. . .riding a pony, through a wooded region. . . . It was very cold, but somehow it seemed it shouldn't be. . .worse than the usual autumn chill. . . . He felt frozen through, and yet damp with sweat, and sick. . . . Why am I on a pony in the middle of nowhere, then? he wondered. Why am I not home, at Bag End, in a warm bed? Where's Bilbo? And how did. . .
Suddenly he felt a chill down his spine.
He turned. Behind him were shadows. . .shadows that took shape and form. . .dark riders on sable horses, great spectres in the darkness. . .***
Frodo awoke abruptly in the dimly lit room, feeling weak and sweaty. As if I were getting over flu, he thought. . .then suddenly, looking up at the ceiling, he remembered: yes, he was ill. . .Bilbo had been taking care of him. . .had been trying to. . .to what? Yes, to get him to eat something. . . . He still felt a bit sleepy, but thirsty. . .and actually a bit interested in more than sips of water.
"Bilbo?"
"He is sleeping, Frodo. I pressed him to get some rest while you were asleep and comfortable." Gandalf bent over his bed, a huge but reassuring figure beside the little hobbit. "If you like, I will wake him, but if I will suffice. . . ?"
Frodo shook his head. "No, no need to wake him. . .I'd like something to drink, please. . .maybe something like juice or broth, if there's any. . . ."
The wizard smiled. "There is plenty of broth; I'll get you a cupful. Bilbo will be delighted." He rose, leaving Frodo alone for a few minutes. Frodo waited quietly, turning from his side onto his back, bringing the hot- water bottle with him. . .his stomach still felt better with the pleasant warmth resting against it. His back and limbs ached, and somehow he didn't feel like sitting up. He hoped Gandalf would help him with the broth; closing his eyes again, he smiled to think of Bilbo attempting to good- morning Gandalf into leaving at their first meeting.
A moment later, he heard the slight swish of cloth and smelled the exotic scent of pipeweed and spices. . .and felt gentle arms scooping him up. Gandalf carried him to the nearby chair and sat down, cradling the small hobbit in his lap, wrapping the boy warmly in a fluffy quilt. Yawning a little, Frodo opened his eyes, smiling gratefully as Gandalf held the cup to his lips, the other arm supporting the tweenager comfortably in a pleasant reclining posture. The first sip was like water to a parched tongue: it tasted wonderful, plain though it was, and Frodo continued to take the warm drink eagerly. Gandalf smiled.
"Bilbo will be pleased, my dear boy. He'd have been watching over you tonight if I hadn't ordered him off. . .he needed sleep, and we both thought you seemed comfortable enough for the time being."
"It's all right. . .he must be exhausted. I don't mind since you're here."
"Good, good. . .we'll just get a bit more of this nice broth to stay down, and you'll soon be feeling much better, I'm sure."
Frodo smiled, nodding, and continued to drink. The pleasantly salty taste made him feel less dizzy, and the last traces of nausea seemed to be quelled by careful sips. "Gandalf?"
"Yes, my boy?"
"I had a horrible dream earlier. . .it was so real. . . ."
"Dreams often seem very vivid during illness, Frodo, and you are still feverish. That alone could explain it. Perhaps when you're feeling better, you could write it down, in a journal, and that may help."
"Perhaps so." The thought was reassuring. . .yes, no doubt it was only an effect of the fever. Swallowing, Frodo finished the broth and curled up in Gandalf's arms. The wizard set the cup aside, cradling him gently, and began to rock comfortably in the chair, the motion just enough to soothe a young hobbit back to sleep.
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***So many people. . .
Frodo felt very small and very much alone among so many Big People. Elves, a few humans, a few dwarves. . .mostly elves, but he felt terribly shy and out of place, even though they were kind to him. Bilbo was beside him, though. . .but he seemed much older, and rather sleepy. Gandalf was there as well, and Frodo felt somehow incredibly glad to be near them both, and especially to be beside Gandalf. . .as if he had somehow been worried about the wizard. . .but why would he worry about Gandalf? Surely Gandalf could not be in any danger. . . .
Time passed, and he felt both shaky and hungry. His left shoulder ached a little, and he felt somehow as if he wanted to merely have something to eat and go lie down, to rest somewhere quiet, with a warm blanket and soft pillow. Everything was too big: he was sitting on a stack of cushions, as was Bilbo. He wanted so much to go home. He wanted to be in his room at Bag End, with the smell of fresh gingerbread baking and cinnamony applesauce heating on the stove, perhaps something really good for a main dish just ready to fill his plate. . .mushroom pie, perhaps. . .or even chicken with lots of vegetables. . . .
But he couldn't think of that somehow. Everyone was. . .well, not watching him, but Frodo felt as if they were, though their eyes were not on him. He felt cold and sick, and very, very small.
And afraid. . .yet somehow resolved. . . .***
This time, Frodo awoke more gradually, slowly becoming aware of his surroundings. He had been put to bed again; Gandalf was nowhere in sight, but Bilbo was at his bedside, fussing over his covers and changing his hot water-bottle and the cool compress on his forehead. At the sight of Frodo's opening eyes, he smiled warmly, stroking the young hobbit's damp curls.
"Hullo there. . .did you have a nice sleep?"
Frodo nodded; aside from the dreams, it had been comfortable. "I had strange dreams. . .but yes. . .mostly I slept well."
"And no wonder you'd have odd dreams when you've been so sick, my poor lad. How are you feeling?"
"A little better." Frodo thought for a moment longer: he really did, actually. His stomach felt settled, at least, and he no longer felt in imminent danger of vomiting. While he still felt feverish and achy, not to mention horribly exhausted, he felt as if lying quietly might be all that was needed to ease him a bit, rather than so ill he nearly wished for death. "I don't feel like everything's about to come back up."
"Wonderful. . .that's wonderful, my dear boy." Bilbo looked near tears as he smiled, fetching a cloth wrung out in cool water and bathing Frodo's face gently, stroking the delicately outline features. Frodo lay quietly, comfortable enough to rest contentedly while the elder Baggins cared for him, yawning a little as sleep began to wear off. But actually, there was something more. . .he realised with some surprise that he was not as comfortable as he first thought: his stomach felt too empty, and he felt an interest finally in trying to fill it a little. . . .
"Bilbo. . .I'm hungry, please. . .could I have something to eat? Soup, maybe?"
Bilbo started, eyes wide with hope and disbelief mingled into an anxious gaze, and carefully studied the boy. "Of course. . .of course, my lad; just a little wait and I'll have something nice for you. . . ."
Frodo lay back against the pillows, waiting while Bilbo hurried off to the kitchen. Looking over at the window, he found that Bilbo had hung up an old mobile, one that he had made for Frodo as an infant: Primula had loved Bilbo's tales, and so the elder hobbit had given her a beautiful little thing that looked like a wind-chime but which was so pretty you could hang it indoors, out of the air. It had shapes like tiny flowers and trees, and small animals. . .rabbits and birds, even a little squirrel. . . . Frodo had loved it even as he grew past infancy, so Primula had always kept it hanging in his window. It had been taken down when he moved rooms in Brandy Hall, and somehow had never been put back up. He had no idea Bilbo had even found it in all the boxes of things sent from Brandy Hall with him. The little ornament made him smile, and he lay watching it sparkle in the light.
It was indeed a lovely tray: a small mug of mushroom soup, carefully arranged with little toast points around the edge of the saucer. . .a glassful of apple juice. . .a steaming cup of ginger tea with honey. . .and Frodo sat up carefully, allowing Bilbo to help him and rearrange the pillows to prop him up. Carefully he reached for the spoon, his hands tentative after some days of feeling too shaky and weak to hold anything. Bilbo watched patiently, his expression tense with excitement.
"I can do that if you'd like, Frodo. . .there's nothing to be embarrassed about, as ill as you've been. . . ."
Frodo shook his head firmly. "I want to try, at least - " Managing to take the spoon, he stirred, taking two of the toast bits and crumbling them into the soup before tasting a mouthful. The taste was achingly reassuring in its familiar comfort: it was the Baggins family recipe that his mother had made to coax him back into eating after he'd had mumps, to tempt him following colds and bouts of flu, to console him on bad days or to celebrate special occasions. Bilbo had made it for him every time he'd come to visit Bag End, often the first night, following his arrival, when he was tired and hungry and wanted mostly to eat, hear another of Bilbo's stories, and be tucked into bed to sleep until the delicious scent of bacon frying and muffins baking awakened him late the next morning. He was surprised now to find that the thought did not make him feel immediately sick at his stomach.
Anxiously Bilbo watched him, nodding eagerly to encourage the boy.
Another spoonful. . .Frodo smiled proudly, beginning to feel a little easier. The silky-thick soup felt like a warm quilt, filling his stomach just comfortably. "Tastes good. . .I was hungry. . . ."
"And no wonder, given how starved you've been!" Nodding with approval, Bilbo reached over to smooth the boy's curls, touching his forehead gently. "Not quite so warm this afternoon. Are you feeling any better, my lad?"
Frodo smiled a little, nodding. "Mm-hm. This is just what I wanted."
"Good. . .good, my boy. . .I'm so glad." Bilbo continued to fuss over him a bit, coaxing sips of juice and tea, putting a fresh hot water-bottle against the tweenager's stomach, offering a spoonful of peppermint- raspberry leaf medicine once Frodo pushed away the tray. "There now. . .just a taste of this, to make sure you stay comfortable. . .a bit of dessert, if you care to think of it that way!"
Frodo laughed, swallowing the syrup cooperatively. "What time is it? I don't even know. . . ."
"Nearly two o'clock. You slept through the morning; Gandalf said you'd been awake for a little while last night and taken a little broth for him. . .we didn't want to wake you. You still need lots of rest; Dr. Boffin was by to speak with me this morning and said we must allow you to sleep as much as you feel like, especially while you're getting better. He says your temperature will finish coming down soon enough with plenty of bed rest and fluids."
Nodding, Frodo nestled back into the covers. "Thank you. . .I don't suppose you'd be too upset if I. . .felt like going back to sleep, would you? I'm sorry; I know I've only just woken up, but. . . ."
"Rest, my boy, rest! I won't be upset at all. Try to sleep if you can. I'll be right here."
Smiling, Frodo closed his eyes. . .and fell asleep to the sound of Bilbo's soft singing.
"The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way
Where many paths and errands meet.
And whither then? I cannot say."
*Author's Note: Regarding Frodo's nightmares. . .yes, for the curious, the dream that opens this chapter is a nightmare about the Ringwraiths - Frodo is dreaming about the journey from Weathertop to Rivendell; the second dream is of the Council of Elrond. We know from Tolkien's writing that Frodo often had dreams; in some cases these seem to have been at least semi- prophetic. I've chosen to take this a step further. . .I believe that Frodo had dreams foreshadowing his future, though he may not have recognised them as such.
Bilbo's song is, of course, the property and creation of J.R.R. Tolkien and is taken here from Chapter 1 of The Lord of the Rings.