Disclaimer: In this chapter I briefly quote from J.R.R. Tolkien's "The Lord
of the Rings", Book I, Chapter 1. No denigration is intended. I bow to
the Master.
Chapter Rating: G Chapter Title: The Long-delayed Start
March 17th S.R. 1420
Frodo awoke with a raging headache. That wasn't the only thing aching. His stomach felt like someone had been hitting him all night. All his muscles were sore. His ghost finger itched unmercifully. And it was cold and dark in the room. "Great," he sourly thought, "Maybe it will be raining too."
It was.
Frodo pulled on a robe, lighted a candle and headed to the kitchen. He was hungry. How long had it been since he had last eaten? He couldn't remember. He heard loud snoring emanating from his study. Sam was stretched out on his back on the rag rug in front of the now-cold fireplace, wrapped in his traveling cloak. His sandy brown hair was sticking out at all angles. So was his foot hair. Rain beat a tattoo on the windowpanes, occasionally blowing in mournful waves against the glass. Frodo quietly tiptoed out of the room, going to the kitchen using the secondary hallway.
The kitchen was dark and the stove was cold as well. Frodo clattered about removing the ashes and reloading the firebox. As he was lighting the kindling, Sam walked in, scratching his head and yawning.
"Mornin'," Sam cheerily said and stretched. He reached over to fill up the kettle with fresh water.
"Morning," Frodo replied flatly as he got the fire going. His headache was fierce. He stood up and crossed his arms trying to gather non-existent warmth to himself. "Sam, what are you doing here? Did you spend the night on that rug?"
"Well.yeh," Sam said. "Iris said someone should be here with you last night, so I stayed." He put the kettle on to boil and scratched his ear. "Say, do ya have some bacon or ham 'round here? I'll cook us up a nice breakfast." He started getting out the skillet and plates. He already had a bowl full of eggs ready for scrambling. Sam was an excellent cook and Frodo was famished. Who was he to argue?
"Sure. They are both hanging in the pantry. Use whatever you want. I am going to start up a fire in the study."
"Frodo?" Sam interrupted. "The doc came back last night and left some herb teas for you to take when you woke up. They're on the table. And she wrote instructions for 'em. She said you'd probably have a headache or somethin'." Sam went back to scrambling the eggs.
Sure enough, there were two pouches of dried herbs on the homey wooden table. Frodo picked up the first pouch and read its attached instructions. It was in Tandy's handwriting.
"For headaches, body aches & fever. Steep two teaspoons herbs per cup. One cup tea every two hours or until you feel better."
He sniffed its contents. They were very astringent and sharp. Frodo recognized it immediately. It was willow bark mixed with other herbs to help mask the bitterness. The second pouch smelled distinctly of dusty dried grass and dirt with an odd top note of flowers. It was not a familiar smell, but not unpleasant. Its instructions read, "For depression. Steep one teaspoon per cup. One cup at breakfast. One cup before bed. May take up to six cups per day. Do not discontinue. Refill as often as you need." A personal note in Iris's handwriting had been attached. "Frodo - this might help your depression and poor sleep. Take it as often as you can today."
"Sam?" Frodo took the second pouch over to where Sam was frying bacon on the stove top. "This smells familiar, but I can not quite place it. Do you know what this is?" He opened up the pouch and stuck it under Sam's nose, away from the smell of the frying bacon..
Sam gave it a good sniff. "Hmm.I should know that smell. It's a flower, that's for sure. I think I got some of that from the South Farthing for the new medical garden. Lemme see. Yellow flower. Maybe it's. herblight? I think they call it John's Wort down south. Yeh, that's it... herblight. Don't know nothin' 'bout it, 'cept it was one of the plants Miss Proudfoot was keen on me getting. Kettle's on boil. Goin' ta make some tea out of it?"
Frodo's head was pounding like the rain against the panes. "Yes. I'll get the setup." He got out three cups, two infusers and the normal teapot. He measured out the medicinal teas into the infusers and set them in two of the cups. Regular tea was added to the pot, then boiling water set to all three.
Frodo shuffled into his study while the tea steeped and breakfast was cooked. He set a moderate fire to blazing in the fireplace and turned to face the worktable. The stacks of Bilbo's notes and maps were still there. Only this morning, they did not seem to be mocking him. They seemed innocuous, like it was Bilbo talking to him, teasing him to finish a tale he had begun a long time ago. They weren't the demons he had previously thought them to be. They were only stories awaiting completion. Frodo came back to the kitchen.
Sam was laying out breakfast on the table. Bacon, scrambled eggs, toast and jam, as well as the teas. Sam popped out the front door and returned with some wet spring flowers, which he tossed into a vase and placed on the table beside a couple of candles. They dug into breakfast.
"You wouldna believe the success rate we've had with the new trees," Sam said while wolfing down some eggs. "Almost every single tree transplanted has already taken root. Some are even sending out their buds already! Did 'cha know that little nut in the Lady's gift box is a mallorn tree? It's already shooting up like it can't wait for summer. I can't believe the cherry trees too. All swollen up with bud and leaf. It's like the Lady herself visited each and every tree and blessed it." Sam chatted on and on about the success of the replanting.
Frodo listened politely, every now and again asking a question. His stomach was feeling much better now that he had some good, solid hobbit cooking in it. And his headache was receding, thanks to the willow bark tea. As to the effects of the other concoction, he was unclear. But Sam's relentless chit chat was beginning to annoy him.
"Sam, thanks for breakfast and all. And thanks for spending the night, even though I do not think it was necessary," Frodo said as he gathered up the breakfast dishes and headed off to the sink.
"Here, Mister Frodo," Sam climbed out of his chair and began clearing the rest of the dishes off the table. "Let me do them."
"Sam," Frodo interrupted, "I am not an invalid. I feel fine. I will wash up. I think it's time you went home."
"Oh no, sir," Sam continued to clean up the kitchen, "You just go on and get dressed and all. I'll take care of this."
"Sam," Frodo gently took the dishes out of Sam's hands, "you are my good friend so I would not say this to just anybody. I hope you will not take this wrong. Sam.you smell like a stoat and look like a fur coat that's been left out in the rain. Why don't you go home and take a bath? Rose will never marry you if you insist on smelling the way you do."
"Well." Sam blushed, "I did come over here without seein' my Gaffer yesterday. Didn't quite have time to take a proper bath or nothin.'"
"I know," Frodo smiled, "and I appreciate everything you did last night. But please. Go home."
"You'll be alright by yerself?" Sam placed his hand on Frodo's arm and looked him in the eyes.
"Yes," Frodo nodded and grinned, "I am a grown hobbit and can take care of myself when pressed to it. Go ahead. Take a day off and relax. If anyone deserves it, it is you. If you distrust me, come over after lunch. I will be working in the study."
Sam reluctantly agreed, picked up his cloak and left, promising to come over later after dinner.
Frodo finished washing up the remains of breakfast and then headed into the bathing room. He needed a bath as desperately as Sam did. After bathing and dressing, he grabbed another cup of the herblight tea and went into the study.
"I can do this," he thought as he set the tea down and picked through Bilbo's notes. "I can do this. It is not that hard. I can write this all out without coming unglued. Or if it becomes too difficult, I can seek help from Sam or even Iris. I will take it one step at a time, like she said. This history must be written down, and I seem to be the only one who can do it. Can't trust Merry or Pippin to do it. Beside, they were off in Rohan and Gondor. Sam and I are the only ones who witnessed the actual ending of the Third Age in... in. well, I can think about that later. And if I become stuck on something. something terrible or missing. I will ask Sam for help. But where do I start?"
He took a deep breath and sat down at the table. A yellowing page of parchment with Bilbo's handwriting caught his eye. Bilbo was describing the fireworks at his famous birthday party. Frodo picked up a pen and began writing:
* When Mr. Bilbo Baggins of Bag End announced that he would shortly be celebrating his eleventy-first birthday with a party of special magnificence, there was much talk and excitement in Hobbiton. *
Chapter Rating: G Chapter Title: The Long-delayed Start
March 17th S.R. 1420
Frodo awoke with a raging headache. That wasn't the only thing aching. His stomach felt like someone had been hitting him all night. All his muscles were sore. His ghost finger itched unmercifully. And it was cold and dark in the room. "Great," he sourly thought, "Maybe it will be raining too."
It was.
Frodo pulled on a robe, lighted a candle and headed to the kitchen. He was hungry. How long had it been since he had last eaten? He couldn't remember. He heard loud snoring emanating from his study. Sam was stretched out on his back on the rag rug in front of the now-cold fireplace, wrapped in his traveling cloak. His sandy brown hair was sticking out at all angles. So was his foot hair. Rain beat a tattoo on the windowpanes, occasionally blowing in mournful waves against the glass. Frodo quietly tiptoed out of the room, going to the kitchen using the secondary hallway.
The kitchen was dark and the stove was cold as well. Frodo clattered about removing the ashes and reloading the firebox. As he was lighting the kindling, Sam walked in, scratching his head and yawning.
"Mornin'," Sam cheerily said and stretched. He reached over to fill up the kettle with fresh water.
"Morning," Frodo replied flatly as he got the fire going. His headache was fierce. He stood up and crossed his arms trying to gather non-existent warmth to himself. "Sam, what are you doing here? Did you spend the night on that rug?"
"Well.yeh," Sam said. "Iris said someone should be here with you last night, so I stayed." He put the kettle on to boil and scratched his ear. "Say, do ya have some bacon or ham 'round here? I'll cook us up a nice breakfast." He started getting out the skillet and plates. He already had a bowl full of eggs ready for scrambling. Sam was an excellent cook and Frodo was famished. Who was he to argue?
"Sure. They are both hanging in the pantry. Use whatever you want. I am going to start up a fire in the study."
"Frodo?" Sam interrupted. "The doc came back last night and left some herb teas for you to take when you woke up. They're on the table. And she wrote instructions for 'em. She said you'd probably have a headache or somethin'." Sam went back to scrambling the eggs.
Sure enough, there were two pouches of dried herbs on the homey wooden table. Frodo picked up the first pouch and read its attached instructions. It was in Tandy's handwriting.
"For headaches, body aches & fever. Steep two teaspoons herbs per cup. One cup tea every two hours or until you feel better."
He sniffed its contents. They were very astringent and sharp. Frodo recognized it immediately. It was willow bark mixed with other herbs to help mask the bitterness. The second pouch smelled distinctly of dusty dried grass and dirt with an odd top note of flowers. It was not a familiar smell, but not unpleasant. Its instructions read, "For depression. Steep one teaspoon per cup. One cup at breakfast. One cup before bed. May take up to six cups per day. Do not discontinue. Refill as often as you need." A personal note in Iris's handwriting had been attached. "Frodo - this might help your depression and poor sleep. Take it as often as you can today."
"Sam?" Frodo took the second pouch over to where Sam was frying bacon on the stove top. "This smells familiar, but I can not quite place it. Do you know what this is?" He opened up the pouch and stuck it under Sam's nose, away from the smell of the frying bacon..
Sam gave it a good sniff. "Hmm.I should know that smell. It's a flower, that's for sure. I think I got some of that from the South Farthing for the new medical garden. Lemme see. Yellow flower. Maybe it's. herblight? I think they call it John's Wort down south. Yeh, that's it... herblight. Don't know nothin' 'bout it, 'cept it was one of the plants Miss Proudfoot was keen on me getting. Kettle's on boil. Goin' ta make some tea out of it?"
Frodo's head was pounding like the rain against the panes. "Yes. I'll get the setup." He got out three cups, two infusers and the normal teapot. He measured out the medicinal teas into the infusers and set them in two of the cups. Regular tea was added to the pot, then boiling water set to all three.
Frodo shuffled into his study while the tea steeped and breakfast was cooked. He set a moderate fire to blazing in the fireplace and turned to face the worktable. The stacks of Bilbo's notes and maps were still there. Only this morning, they did not seem to be mocking him. They seemed innocuous, like it was Bilbo talking to him, teasing him to finish a tale he had begun a long time ago. They weren't the demons he had previously thought them to be. They were only stories awaiting completion. Frodo came back to the kitchen.
Sam was laying out breakfast on the table. Bacon, scrambled eggs, toast and jam, as well as the teas. Sam popped out the front door and returned with some wet spring flowers, which he tossed into a vase and placed on the table beside a couple of candles. They dug into breakfast.
"You wouldna believe the success rate we've had with the new trees," Sam said while wolfing down some eggs. "Almost every single tree transplanted has already taken root. Some are even sending out their buds already! Did 'cha know that little nut in the Lady's gift box is a mallorn tree? It's already shooting up like it can't wait for summer. I can't believe the cherry trees too. All swollen up with bud and leaf. It's like the Lady herself visited each and every tree and blessed it." Sam chatted on and on about the success of the replanting.
Frodo listened politely, every now and again asking a question. His stomach was feeling much better now that he had some good, solid hobbit cooking in it. And his headache was receding, thanks to the willow bark tea. As to the effects of the other concoction, he was unclear. But Sam's relentless chit chat was beginning to annoy him.
"Sam, thanks for breakfast and all. And thanks for spending the night, even though I do not think it was necessary," Frodo said as he gathered up the breakfast dishes and headed off to the sink.
"Here, Mister Frodo," Sam climbed out of his chair and began clearing the rest of the dishes off the table. "Let me do them."
"Sam," Frodo interrupted, "I am not an invalid. I feel fine. I will wash up. I think it's time you went home."
"Oh no, sir," Sam continued to clean up the kitchen, "You just go on and get dressed and all. I'll take care of this."
"Sam," Frodo gently took the dishes out of Sam's hands, "you are my good friend so I would not say this to just anybody. I hope you will not take this wrong. Sam.you smell like a stoat and look like a fur coat that's been left out in the rain. Why don't you go home and take a bath? Rose will never marry you if you insist on smelling the way you do."
"Well." Sam blushed, "I did come over here without seein' my Gaffer yesterday. Didn't quite have time to take a proper bath or nothin.'"
"I know," Frodo smiled, "and I appreciate everything you did last night. But please. Go home."
"You'll be alright by yerself?" Sam placed his hand on Frodo's arm and looked him in the eyes.
"Yes," Frodo nodded and grinned, "I am a grown hobbit and can take care of myself when pressed to it. Go ahead. Take a day off and relax. If anyone deserves it, it is you. If you distrust me, come over after lunch. I will be working in the study."
Sam reluctantly agreed, picked up his cloak and left, promising to come over later after dinner.
Frodo finished washing up the remains of breakfast and then headed into the bathing room. He needed a bath as desperately as Sam did. After bathing and dressing, he grabbed another cup of the herblight tea and went into the study.
"I can do this," he thought as he set the tea down and picked through Bilbo's notes. "I can do this. It is not that hard. I can write this all out without coming unglued. Or if it becomes too difficult, I can seek help from Sam or even Iris. I will take it one step at a time, like she said. This history must be written down, and I seem to be the only one who can do it. Can't trust Merry or Pippin to do it. Beside, they were off in Rohan and Gondor. Sam and I are the only ones who witnessed the actual ending of the Third Age in... in. well, I can think about that later. And if I become stuck on something. something terrible or missing. I will ask Sam for help. But where do I start?"
He took a deep breath and sat down at the table. A yellowing page of parchment with Bilbo's handwriting caught his eye. Bilbo was describing the fireworks at his famous birthday party. Frodo picked up a pen and began writing:
* When Mr. Bilbo Baggins of Bag End announced that he would shortly be celebrating his eleventy-first birthday with a party of special magnificence, there was much talk and excitement in Hobbiton. *
