Chapter rating: PG (mild language, somewhat gruesome medical situations)

Chapter title: Anniversary

March S.R. 1420

The one social engagement Frodo regularly attended during the winter months was the Saturday evening family gatherings at Farmer Cotton's house. Sam and the Cotton family so enjoyed hearing the old tales and stories about the Elves, Frodo didn't have the heart to deny them their pleasure. That, and Sam kept nagging him to get out more. So every Saturday Frodo joined the Cottons for dinner, tall tales, and an overnight stay. They kept his guest room ready at all times.

No one particularly noticed the date that Saturday evening. It was the 12th of March. Sam was away on one of his frequent trips around the Shire. The day had been bitterly cold. A fell North wind had been blowing all day, leaving a scum of ice on the recently-thawed roads. But the farmhouse was warm and cozy. After Frodo recounted the tale of Luthien and Beren One- Hand everyone went off to sleep.

Frodo felt a bit uncomfortable all evening despite the roaring fire and the little bit of warmed brandy wine being passed around the family that night. He couldn't seem to get warm no matter how many comforters on the bed, nor how many logs he placed in the little fireplace. His mind was racing with unpleasant memories of Weathertop as he tossed and turned in bed. Sometime after midnight he finally drifted into an uneasy sleep.

"Mister Baggins?" Tom Cotton called and knocked on the guest bedroom door the next morning. "Master Frodo? Are you coming to second breakfast or no?" There was no answer. Tom Cotton opened the door a crack just to make sure Frodo was there. The room was uncomfortably warm. He heard a soft moaning coming from the piled up comforters.

"Mister Baggins, sir?" Tom ventured inside the room. He found Frodo in bed, unable to recognize Tom, and sweating profusely. He was running a high fever.

"Lily!" Tom called to his wife. "Lily! Come quickly. There's something wrong with Master Frodo! He won't answer to me. I don't think he rightly knows where he is neither."

His wife came running into the bedroom. "Oh dear, Master Frodo? Tom, send Nibs to run for the healer. I'll stay here with the poor dear. You and the lads go on back to work. But tell Nibs to hurry."

Nibs ran into Hobbiton and found Iris Proudfoot in her office. Nibs removed his hat and hurriedly stammered, "Doctor Proudfoot, Mum? Sorry to bother you Mum, but you see, it's Master Baggins. He's in a bad way over at our house. Would you please come see to him? Me dad says to come right away."

"Why Nibs Cotton! Come in! Sit down and tell me slowly what's wrong with Mister Frodo."

"Well Mum, me dad says Master Baggins is running a temperature and don't rightly know where he is or who's talkin' to 'im. He didn't come for breakfast, nor for second breakfast neither. Will you please come over quick?"

"Yes, certainly. Let me gather a few things into my bag first, then we'll be off." Iris quickly gathered together some of the precious medicinal herbs and her medical bag. She wrote a note explaining that she was at Master Cotton's farmhouse until further notice and could be reached there in case of emergency. She and Nibs donned their cloaks. As they headed out the door, she stopped and attached the note to the front of the door. "Alright Nibs, lead the way."

They quickly arrived at Farmer Cotton's house. Lily Cotton greeted them as they entered the door.

"Oh Doctor," said Mrs. Cotton, "Thank you for coming. Here, let me take your cloak. I don't know what's wrong with Master Frodo, but he's in a bad sort of way. I'll take you to him. Nibs, stay here in case the doctor needs something."

"Thank you Mrs. Cotton," said Iris. "Let's go see Mister Frodo." Mrs. Cotton lead her back into Frodo's room. He was lying on the bed, his eyes tightly closed and face drawn up in pain. He had kicked a large pile of comforters onto the floor in his thrashings. His breathing was rapid and evidently painful. His greying curls clung to his forehead in a feverish sweat.

"Frodo?" Iris asked, stroking the damp curls. No response. "Frodo? Ah well..." Iris set down her bag on a dresser. The room had a fireplace with a small fire going, even thought it was already warm.

"He's been like that all morning," Lily said. "He won't answer nor wake up for nothin'."

"Alright then. Would you please start some water on to boil? I'm going to need some clean towels as well. And start up the kettle. I'll have you brew some medicinal tea in a short while. I'll need a basin with the hot water and towels first. Oh, and some brandy. Thank you." Lily started out of the room.

"Oh, and please have Nibs bring in some more firewood. I'm going to give Mister Frodo an examination now, so please give us some privacy. Knock on the door and I'll tell you if it's appropriate to come in. Thank you again." Lily left the room.

Iris opened her bag and walked over to the bed. Frodo was murmuring in his delirium and was clutching the bed sheets with his right hand. His left arm was hidden behind the bedclothes. Iris touched the back of her hand to his pale face. It was surprisingly cool, even though he was obviously feverish. The left side of his face and neck were much more cold than his right side.

There was a soft knock at the door. "Come in," she replied.

It was Nibs with one arm loaded with wood for the fire and a flask of brandy in the other hand. He looked with concern at Frodo lying in bed.

"Is he going to be alright, Mam?"

"We shall see. Thank you Nibs. Just set it all down." Nibs left the room, gently pulling the door shut.

Iris went to her bag and pulled out several bundles of herbs. There was another soft knock at the door. This time it was Lily Cotton, and she was holding a large ewer and basin of steaming water. Several clean towels were draped over her arm.

"Thank you. Just put them down over on the little table."

"Is there anything else you'll be needing?" asked Mrs. Cotton.

Iris handed Mrs. Cotton a pouch with dried herbs. "Please take two tablespoons of this herb mixture and steep them into a very strong tea. It's all right to let them steep until the water is cold. Don't throw away the leavings. I'll call for the tea when I am ready. Thank you."

Mrs. Cotton left the room with the herb pouch and closed the door. Iris washed her hands. "Now Frodo, what in the name of Middle Earth is wrong with you? Perhaps I'll finally get an answer to that question. You should have come to me sooner. Damn Baggins pride."

She lowered the bed sheets and unbuttoned his top. There was a dark line going down the left side of his neck towards his left shoulder. As Iris unbuttoned the shirt further, Frodo's wound was revealed. It was a mass of old healed white scar tissue, some evidently the initial wound and other scars bearing the signature of later surgery. But underneath the mass a fine network of dark purple lines radiated from the wound. Some ascended the line of his neck. Some descended into his left arm. The majority of them snaked towards his heart. A few disappeared across his shoulder, leading towards his back. Iris ran her hand across his chest and left shoulder, feeling the coldness increasing the closer she came to the source. As her hand touched the wound, Frodo stirred and groaned.

"Frodo? Frodo? Come on now. I've got to get your shirt off so I can finish this exam. Frodo? Come on. Sit up for me."

Iris sat on the edge of the bed. She leaned over Frodo and gently moved her right arm under his shoulder; her left arm under his head. She slowly rocked him up into a sitting position, his head resting on her left shoulder. Frodo struggled towards consciousness. His breathing become more rapid as Iris tried to undress him.

"Gandalf?" he whispered in confusion, his eyes tightly shut.

"Nope. Wrong gender, wrong race, wrong age, wrong size, no beard. Not Gandalf, though I could use his help right now. It's Iris. Iris Proudfoot." Iris succeeded in removing his shirt.

Frodo struggled feebly with his right hand and cried out in pain, "Ah! Not again. No! You shall not have It or me. Return to Mordor!"

"Thank you, but I think I'll stay here with you," she murmured. He was evidently delirious with the fever. "He must be talking about the Ring, but who is he talking to?" she wondered.

Iris traced the purple lines across his left shoulder and saw that they joined another network of purple lines radiating from a different scar at the base of his neck. However this scar was not cold, but warm to the touch. She also noticed a few old whip marks across his back. Frodo's left arm hung useless at his side, but his eyes were now open. Iris lowered him back down on the bed.

"Frodo. Look at me. It's Iris. Do you know who I am?"

Frodo stared at her in confusion. "Where is Gandalf? Where is Bilbo? Who are you?"

"My name is Iris. You are in the Shire at Farmer Cotton's house. You are ill and have a fever. I'm trying to help you. What do you mean, 'Not again'? Have you been ill like this before?"

Frodo blinked and tried to concentrate on her face. She seemed familiar somehow.

"The Shire?" he asked suddenly. "No! Not the Shire!" He began to struggle to get out of bed. He looked wildly around the room. "I have to get to Rivendale. They are after me."

Iris held him back. "It's all right. I will protect you. You are safe here. Who is after you?"

"The Black Riders. The Pale King. Ah! Look out!" he panted and struggled in her arms. Suddenly he stopped thrashing about and sank into the pillows. He glanced around the room.

"But wait. This is not Rivendale. Where am I?" He was becoming more confused and agitated.

Iris placed her hand on his wounded shoulder. It was very cold and there was a raised lump under the scar. "Calm down. Shush. You are at Farmer Cotton's house in the Shire. You've lived here and at Bag End since November. I'm Iris Proudfoot, the new healer. Do you remember coming back to the Shire?"

Frodo closed his eyes and sighed.

"Frodo? Talk to me. Do you recognize me now?" She stroked his wet tangled hair away from his feverish brow.

Frodo slowly became aware and finally nodded his head. He seemed to have a slight mist clouding his eyes. He stared at her face and whispered, "Iris, you look like an Elf. You have an aura like they do."

Iris smiled at him and gently asked, "And what color is my aura?"

"The most lovely green. It reminds me of the mallorn trees of Lothlorien." He sighed, closed his eyes and shivered.

"Frodo," Iris said, "You must tell me what is happening to you if I am to try to help you." She unstoppered the brandy, drizzled some onto a clean cloth, and began rubbing his neck and forehead with the cooling liquid.

Frodo looked at her again and turned his head away with embarrassment. He whispered, "Please, please don't tell anyone about this. Especially not Sam or Rosie." Iris gently stroked his hair as she continued his brandy rub, comforting him as one comforts a little child who is afraid of the dark.

"I promise that whatever is said in this room will always remain strictly between you and I. I will not tell Sam. I will not tell Rosie or Nibs or the Cottons. Now please…what is happening to you?" Frodo turned back towards her. He struggled to say the words while fighting the pain and sorrow.

"We were attacked more than a year ago while on a journey to Rivendale," he whispered. "I was stabbed. The blade was poisoned. It took us many days to reach Rivendale. The Elves were able to heal my wound, but by then the poison had worked its way into my blood. The Lord Elrond and Gandalf told me I would never be completely healed from this wound. I took ill again last October, but it was not as bad then as now. Iris, I am reliving the nightmare."

He closed his eyes and a tear rolled down his cheek. Iris gently wiped the tear from his face.

"Frodo, when did the pain return?"

"It has been with me off and on since that time in October. But it became much worse sometime last night. I had the nightmare again and woke up with this terrible pain. I thought I could hide it from everyone, but now I am found out. Oh please, Iris, do not let them know. I do not want my private suffering to become public knowledge."

"I promise to not tell anyone. But let's see if there is anything I can do to help you right now. Frodo, the scar on your shoulder has a lump under it. Is this something new?"

"Yes, I think so," he whispered.

Iris examined the wound again. There definitely was a lump under the scar tissue. It was the coldest spot on his body. She lightly pressed around the scar. "Does that hurt you?"

"No. I feel nothing on my left side and arm now. It's just like when I was first wounded. I have no feeling there."

Iris pressed even harder into the scarred area. Nothing. Frodo truly exhibited no feeling in that area. Nor could he move his left hand.

"Frodo, I believe you have an infection under the scar and that infection is causing your fever and chills. I need to open up the wound and release the infection. It involves some surgery. Will you let me do this?"

He nodded his assent as he closed his eyes and struggled to breathe through the pain. Iris stood and brought the covers back up to his chin. "I will be right back."

She went out of the room and into the kitchen where Lily was making bread.

"Oh Doctor, how is Master Frodo doing? I do hope he will be right as rain."

"He has an infection which is causing a fever and delirium. He's awake and talking now, but I need to drain the infection. Are you at all squeamish at the sight of blood?"

"No, Mam," the sturdy hobbitess replied, setting aside the dough and wiping her hands on her apron, then setting the apron aside. She had seen her share of farm accidents and had even mended a few gory ones in her day.

"Good. I'll need you to assist a little bit of surgery. I need a large metal bucket, and I'm going to need that tea I asked you to brew." Mrs. Cotton handed Iris a teapot with the medicinal tea and a cup and saucer. She then went into a pantry, returning with a large metal bucket with a hoop.

"Will this do?" asked Mrs. Cotton.

"That's perfect. One thing more. Mister Baggins is rather adamant that no one else know of his illness. I must ask you to keep anything you see or hear inside his room to be held under strictest confidence. Do not even talk about it with your husband or children. Do you understand this restriction?"

"Yes, Mam," Lily replied. "I'll not say a word to anyone."

"Good. Then let's go. I need to get this done quickly."

Iris and Lily returned to Frodo's room, bringing clean towels to the bed. Iris went over to Frodo.

"I have to have an assistant for this Frodo," she whispered to him. He still had his eyes closed and was shaking with the chills. "I've asked Mistress Cotton to assist. She's agreed to keep it our secret." He nodded his consent without opening his eyes.

As Lily washed her hands Iris removed the one remaining comforter, turned down the bed sheet and arranged the towels around the wound and under Frodo's left shoulder and arm. She sprinkled some herbs into the dish of warm water and bathed his shoulder with the infusion. The room was quite warm and still. Only the sound of the crackling logs burning in the fireplace was heard. Iris retrieved a scalpel, irrigator, needle and thread and other instruments from her bag, washed them, and laid them out on a towel on the bed. Iris positioned Lily so that she was on the other side of the bed, holding Frodo down to keep him from moving.

"Frodo," Iris said, "keep very still. If you feel any additional pain, let me know and I'll stop."

Frodo sighed and relaxed into stillness. Iris began the surgery by cutting into the scar tissue. There was surprisingly little blood. Frodo did not stir or cry out, but his face and neck were slick with sweat. Iris sliced through the scarring, revealing a cyst which had formed under the wound. It was full of a strange dark red and yellow pus and smelled of death and foulness. Lily blanched at the sight of the strange liquid seeping out the wound.

"Steady," Iris warned. "Have those extra towels ready. But hold onto him as well."

As she drained the cyst, Frodo groaned. His breathing came in gasps. Lily held him down into the bed as the putrid matter spilled forth. Blood and infection stained the white cloths as he weakly struggled.

As Iris flushed the gash out with the infused water and sewed the wound back together, Frodo calmed down. The towels were heavily stained and reeked. Lily put the soiled cloths into the metal bucket and headed back into the kitchen as Iris finished cleaning up.

Frodo's eyes were tightly closed, but his breathing was free and steady. Iris placed her hand over the injury. It was not as cold as it had been. After rubbing some salve over the wound, she gently stroked his damp curls again.

"Frodo?" she whispered.

"Um?"

"It's over now. Please open your eyes and look at me." Frodo turned his head towards her and opened his weary blue eyes. The cloudiness which was upon them before was gone. The angry purple lines around the wounds were also beginning to fade.

"What color is my aura now?" she gently asked, moving each limp curl away from his forehead.

Frodo smiled wanly, "It's still green, but I can barely see it now."

"That's encouraging. I am going to give you some medicine now. It will help you sleep in a little while. Do you think you can manage to sit up?" Frodo nodded and needed some help, but he managed it. Iris poured a tablespoon of the medicinal tea into the teacup and supported Frodo as he drank it.

"There. Rest now."

Frodo settled back into the bed and sighed. Iris pulled the covers over him and continued to stroke his hair.

"Now Frodo, you have another scar at the base of your neck. It was also showing signs of infection, or perhaps poison. What's the history of that wound? And I'll not take silence as an answer this time." Frodo turned his head away from her, once again in great mental stress. His jaw tightened and he had a difficult time speaking. Iris continued to gently stroke his hair.

Finally he complied. "Yes, it is another poisoning. A sting. But I cannot bring myself to tell you that dark story. Is it sufficient to say that the two poisonings are not related?"

"Yes," she replied. "That will do for now." Frodo looked back at her, and the relief on his face was clear to see.

"Since you've asked a question, I think it's my turn," he said. "What prompted you to reply to my letter and come to Hobbiton? I know you had a successful practice with Mistress Weaver in the South Farthing."

"Fair enough," Iris replied. "I asked a difficult question of you, so turn about is fair play. I was intrigued with your letters. They were so courteous and sincere. It was almost as if you were speaking directly to me, asking me to come to help you, and not only for Hobbiton. I had heard about the Travelers, I mean, you and Masters Brandybuck, Took and Gamgee. And this may sound silly, but I wanted to meet you personally and help out if it was possible."

Frodo smiled sleepily. "Well, now you've seen me at my worst. I do hope it has not put you off of staying."

Iris smiled back at him. "Nothing would drive me away, not even you, my silly hobbit. This is my home now. You have all been so good to me. But it's my turn to ask you a question. I'll keep this one simple. What's your favorite food?"

Frodo struggled to keep his eyes open. "My Uncle Bilbo makes the most wonderful mushroom stew with little young spring onions in it." He sounded wistful and slightly melancholy.

"Don't fight the medicine," she instructed. "Go ahead and close your eyes."

Frodo blinked a few more times, then shut his eyes and relaxed. "Will you stay with me for awhile?" It was the voice of a young child, asking for comfort in the dark night after a nightmare.

"I'll stay for awhile. Then I'll be with Mrs. Cotton in the kitchen. I'll come back to wake you in an hour or so." He sighed and was asleep almost immediately. Iris continued to stroke his hair for about ten minutes – until she was certain he was deeply asleep, then finished cleaning and putting away her tools and medicines. She placed another log on the fire before going back to the kitchen.

"Mrs. Cotton," Iris asked, "Would you please see that those infected cloths are burned? And be careful handling them. Thank you for your assistance."

"Why Mistress Proudfoot, I'm glad I could help in any way. Poor dear was very sick, wasn't he?"

"Very ill, but I think he will recover quickly now that the infection has been removed," Iris said. "The fever has abated. I gave him a strong sedative and he's sleeping right now. I shall need to stay here awhile and check up on him every now and again."

Lily gestured to the large family table. "Please sit down. I'll bring you a nice tea and something to eat. Now, how long before you go look in on him again?"

"In about an hour I'll go wake him up. He will need to have a bath at that time. Would you change out the bed clothes while I help him bathe?"

"Certainly, my dear. Will I need to burn them too?" the hobbitess replied as she set down the tea service. Lily set herself down at the table and joined Iris in a cup of strong mint tea.

"No. I don't think they received any of the infectious matter. Just wash them in boiling water and good, strong lye soap."

Lily thoughtfully sipped her tea. "I'm surprised to hear you say he'll be well enough to take a bath shortly."

Iris thought a minute, then replied, "He will be a bit groggy from the medicine, but he might be feeling well enough after the bath so that he can come join the family for dinner. In cases such as these, once the cyst is drained the patient makes a remarkably rapid recovery. Just remember that Mister Frodo does not want any fuss made over his illness.

On a change of subject… I want to congratulate you and Master Cotton on Rosie's engagement. How wonderful for the two of them! You're getting yourself a fine son-in-law."

"Oh, thank you 'mum. My Rosie, I'm so proud of her. I always knew Sam was the finest lad in the Shire, and Rosie's been sweet on him for years. Sam and Rosie are so happy, even though he's so busy now, what with him in charge of the replanting of the Shire and all. He's the best gardener the Shire's ever had, or will ever have, mark my words."

"He and Mister Frodo are close friends, aren't they?" inquired Iris.

"They're the closest. Sam thinks the world of young Mister Baggins. He says Mister Baggins is the smartest and best hobbit that ever was. But I'm right partial to Sam. Did you know Sam saved Mister Baggins's life during their travels? He doesn't like to talk too much about what they was doing, but he did tell my Rosie how he saved Mister Baggins's life while they was on a secret mission. It was when young Mister Baggins lost his finger. Did you know that it was bit off?"

"Bit off?" asked the astonished Iris. "I always assumed he lost it in an accident, or maybe in a battle during the War. What bit it off?"

"It weren't exactly a 'what' as it were a 'who'" said Mrs. Cotton, sipping her tea. "Sam and young Mister Baggins was on this secret mission to throw this magic ring back into a fire on this mountain way south. They was being stalked by this wicked creature named Gollum. Rosie says Sam calls him the Stinker and Master Frodo calls him Smeagol or some strange name. Anyways, this Gollum betrayed Sam and Mister Baggins, and followed 'em up this mountain. Then this Gollum goes and hits Sam with a rock right up side the head! When Sam came to, Gollum had attacked Mister Baggins. They was in a fight up on this mountain by the fire and all. That Gollum was after the ring Mister Baggins was wearing. Bit clean through the finger, bone and everything in order to get it too! Well, Rosie says Sam ended up rescuing Mister Baggins from off that mountain, after this Gollum tripped and fell to his death. Well deserved too, if you asks me. Took the ring and finger and all with 'em into the fire too.

Mister Baggins gave up on living then, but our Sammie carried him off that mountain and got them rescued by some Men from Gondor. I know it was a real close thing. They was almost killed up on that mountain by that Gollum creature. And they had run out of food and water too. But anyway, that's how young Mister Baggins lost his finger."

"My goodness!" exclaimed Iris. "No wonder he don't care to talk much about it. It must have been terrible! I guess we all owe Sam and Frodo, and Meriodoc and Pippin quite a debt of gratitude. The least we can do is honor their wishes for privacy."

The two chattered on for quite awhile. When Iris realized her tea had gone stone cold, she said, "Looks like it's time for me to go wake up Mister Frodo. Would you please see to the water for his bath? Thank you so much. I'll come back and get you after he's gone off for his bath. Then we can change the sheets."

Iris went back into Frodo's room. He was still asleep, but he had moved his left hand outside the covers. Iris was relieved that he was using his left arm so soon after the surgery. He looked very peaceful and innocent sleeping.

She sat down on the edge of the bed. Iris gently whispered, "Frodo? Time to wake up."

He sighed in his sleep. Iris took his left hand in hers. It was no longer cold and lifeless, but warm. "Frodo. Time to wake up."

He took a deep breath and stirred. His eyes were still closed. "I was dreaming," she thought he mumbled.

"What were you dreaming?"

"I was walking in the golden woods of Lothlorien. It was summer and warm and all gold and green and very still and quiet. The mallorn trees were in bloom. The Elves were gone, but the woods were still full of their presence. Then I heard someone calling. Was it you? Or maybe it was Arwen. I woke up and it was you."

"Sorry to take you away from such a lovely dream. Perhaps you'll dream of it again. But now it's time for you to get up. How are your arm and shoulder feeling?"

He was still very sleepy. "Oh, um, fine I guess. No pain anymore. And I'm not so cold." He was trying to get his eyes opened, blinking in the firelight.

"How about a nice warm bath and some dinner then? Mrs. Cotton's prepared you a bath."

"Sounds 'sonderful, but I don't think I want to face having dinner with the Cottons tonight." He was mostly conscious now. "What will they think of my behavior today? Frankly, Iris, I'm embarrassed to see them right now."

"Frodo, I've told them you've had an infection and a high fever. They understand. But they also know you're better now. And they are anxious to see you. They are your friends. Come now, you can't hide in this room forever. Let's get this over with. It won't be as painful as you think. The Cottons are good, decent folk who love you and Sam. They will keep this private and not tell anyone about your illness, as it's none of anyone else's business. Come on. Time for your bath."

Frodo reluctantly agreed and managed to sit up in bed by himself. As he swung his legs over the side of the bed to stand up, he had a momentary bout of dizziness. Iris steadied him. "Do you need any help in the bath?" she asked.

Frodo chuckled and glanced sideways at Iris. She suddenly realized how that innocent question could be interpreted. She blushed furiously.

Frodo laughed, a good solid laugh free from any pain, "May I redeem your gracious offer on a later date?" He still sounded a trifle drugged.

"Now, Mister Baggins," Iris lectured, "you must be feeling better, as your sense of humor has certainly returned. Or else my sedative is doing the talking. Mind your manners."

"I noticed you didn't say No." He was enjoying teasing her. He felt a bit light-headed, like a good beer buzz. This was getting funny.

Iris looked directly into his eyes. "All right. My offer stands for a later date. Date to be determined by mutual agreement. There. Satisfied?"

"Not yet, but I'm sure I will be," he said with a smirk on his face.

"OK. That's enough from you. Let me take this bandage off so you can go to your bath. Good. The wound has already closed up. But don't get it wet in your bath. I don't trust you to navigate to the wash room by yourself, in the state you're in. Let me help you."

With that, Iris gathered up Frodo and some clean clothes and helped him to his bath. She plunked Frodo onto a chair beside the tub, unwilling to trust his own judgment in his sedative-addled state of mind. While he was passively waiting, humming a little tune to himself and occasionally chuckling at some inward joke, Iris made sure the water temperature was neither too cool or too hot. She waited just outside the slightly ajar door while Frodo disrobed and took his bath.

Rosie had returned from Bag End and was helping Mrs. Cotton set the large family table for the evening meal. Rosie and her mother changed the bed clothes and freshened up the guest room while Nibs burned the infected cloths. Iris kept watch over Mister Frodo's bath. Farmer Cotton, Nibs, and the other members of the Cotton family gathered around the table for dinner. Iris was invited to stay, and she accepted. Two extra places were set at the end of the table.

Frodo wobbled into the kitchen leaning on Iris's arm. He was still slightly groggy from the sedation. But he was clean and his hair was slightly damp from a good washing. He was wearing a plain long-sleeved shirt, brown trousers and matching vest over suspenders. Even under sedation, his vanity required dressing well no matter what. He looked somewhat pale, but very relaxed and rested. Perhaps overly relaxed. The Cottons all welcomed him back to the table and expressed their happiness at his recovery. They politely ignored his tendency to drift off in the middle of a sentence. And that's the last that was ever said of the illness.

After dinner Iris gathered her medical bag and prepared to leave. It was dark out now. The North Wind had finally been defeated and a hint of warm Spring air was creaping in from the Southwest. Frodo was outside, bundled in a warm woolen cloak and extra blanket, smoking a pipe and trying to blow smoke rings like his Uncle Bilbo.

"I used to like a good pipe of Longbottom leaf after a meal," he said, "but it does not taste good anymore. Ah well. I would love to walk you back home, Iris, but I'm afraid I'm still a little too wobbly for the walk back here afterwards."

"Don't worry yourself with that, Frodo," Iris smiled. "Nibs will escort me home. And I wouldn't worry about loosing your taste for pipeweed. Get plenty of sleep tonight. I do want to see you tomorrow though. Come down to my place and I'll remove the stitches. And next time you start experiencing pain, please come to me immediately. Don't wait."

"Yes Mam. I promise. And I am going to hold you to your promise to help me with a bath someday." He grinned, and then suddenly reached for her hand. Bringing it to his lips, he gently kissed her hand. "Thank you for everything. I'll see you tomorrow."

Nibs and Iris headed on down the lane. As they rounded a bend, she looked back. She could see the soft glow of his pipe in the dark.