TITLE: "Brandywine"
AUTHOR: Mainframe
RATING: PG
PAIRING: None so far
Disclaimer: The Hobbits belong to J. R.R. Tolkien and are not of my creation and I make no money from this or other stories involving them, this is purely a non-profit fiction of my creation in honour of the book & movies. However this storyline is mine.
SUMMARY: It's been raining none stop for over a month in the shire and Bilbo is being driven mad by three young hobbits with too much energy to spend. But is his solution to the problem a wise one or could it led to disaster?
NOTES: Thank you to everyone who was kind enough to post their feedback to me in light of the continued problems Fanfiction is experiencing. BellaMonte many thanks for your lovely e-mail, hope this next chapter is to your liking!
STORY WATCH: Rachelstonebreaker has taken matters into her own hands in light of the continued troubles of FanFiction.net and her MANY times updated story "Recovery" can now be read at: http://www.beckyswebdesign.com/ff/recovery1.htm Llinos has updated "Recapture" and it's a nail biting chapter *Aaaaaaaagh! * And I've practically screamed the place down when I read "Explain the night" by Eretria (did actually shout 'No!' And in doing so scared my mate to death. Whoops!). "Little Bird" by Murron is a sweet stand on it's own tale about Pippin mainly (very sweet and well worth a read). | | |
Brandywine
Chapter 15: Who are you?
Three days pasted painfully slowly at Bag-End. Samwise and Merry awoke the next morning after their trauma, as well as could be expected, both suffering from colds. Later it was decided to move them to the double guestroom next-door to Frodo's room, under a great deal of protest. However when it was explained that it was to protect Frodo they accepted this explanation, for Frodo was plainly gravely ill.
Sam and Merry wanted for nothing as Bell Gamgee officially took over both lads care, thus freeing Laura to concentrate solely on Frodo, who seemed to have taken a turn for the worst of late.
Daisy was placed in charge of her mother's choirs while Hamson took over his father's workload in the village. Halfred tended to the family choirs that were too heavy for Daisy and the others, gardening, chopping firewood, in short most of the manual labour, while Hamfast set about forking over the sodden, ruined gardens at Bag-End. They had suffered, and all but the most hardy of plants and trees had either been washed away or become so waterlogged that it had started to rot root first. It also meant that should any unexpected developments happen, he would be at hand. In short the Gamgee family had moulded itself into an even stronger, more efficient unit than it had before.
Hamfast however could not help but detect a slightly strained atmosphere between Daisy and May, as they worked together in the kitchen at Bagshot Row, a quarrel of some sort no doubt. May's behaviour of late had been a bit off he noticed, she simply wasn't her usual chatty self and seemed to concentrate on her work more than was needed. He kept a watchful eye on her hoping that it was just sisterly concern towards her brother that was forcing her from her bed at night. If it had anything to do with a lad he would certainly have both their hides. But for the moment he had other priorities, he would have to ask Daisy about her sister's new nightly escapades later.
Sam's wrist was giving him a great deal of pain and though he bore it stoically his father informed Laura of the situation and it was agreed that Sam needed some form of pain relief. However none could have foreseen that he would outright refuse it, even a stern word from his father could not sway him. He simply stated that he didn't need it and that it wasn't as bad as it looked.
Hamfast couldn't help the swell of pride that gleamed in his eyes, but he had spoken with Merry that morning and knew the truth. Sam was in a great deal of pain, Merry had been watching him closely out of the corner of his eye when Sam thought him asleep; he watched as silent tears rolled down his round face, eyes scrunched shut, as he clutched his wrist close to his chest. Merry also mentioned that Sam was blaming himself for the whole accident and that he thought maybe Sam was trying to punish himself. This worried Ham a great deal, he had long known of his son's affection for Master Frodo and that it went further than the normal master-servant relationship, there was really friendship between the two. He had never been particularly easy about that, but knew that Frodo without Sam was like Strawberries without cream, they just seemed to fit.
Laura managed to mix a very potent concoction of Lemon Balm, ginger, Camomile and Poppy pods, which could be taken with juice but was most effective as a tea. A few drops of the boiled down liquid mix in apple juice was enough to send Sam to sleep for hours at a time. It also enabled her to bathe the joint and change the bandage without causing him any further pain, for which Hamfast and Bell were very grateful. Although Laura did later receive a thorough dressing down from Bilbo when he realised why he had fallen asleep so suddenly the other night!
Laura also took the opportunity to show Bell exactly what needed doing and when, for both boys. She really could not afford as much time to them as she would like, but Bell was a mother six times over and knew most of the basics already. She proved to be a fast learner and possessed a memory the envy of any healer worth their salt. Each lad needed a strip-wash every morning and evening, with water infused with various oils. Bell found it easier to wash her son (who turned as red as a beetroot at the mere suggestion) after he had consumed his juice. When he was drifting between consciousness and sleep, just awake enough to take a command without question, usually 'arms up' or 'turn over'. She could not however even get within three feet of Merry; she managed to stifle a giggle at the look of absolute horror on his red face at the prospect of being bathed. A solution was reached; Hamfast filled the tin bath in the washroom with four inches of hot water each morning and evening and helped support a very shaky Merry down the corridor and to the edge of the tub.
"You can leave now, I'll be fine on my own thank you" Merry stated breathlessly the first time.
Hamfast was having none of it; on the way down the corridor Merry had been forced to lean on him heavily. "Now then young Master, I didn't go to all the trouble o' makin sure there weren't enough water for ye ta drown in, only ta have ya slip on this here wet floor and hurt yerself"
Merry looked down at the slate beneath his feet, it was dry as a bone, Hamfast had not spilt a single drop, he looked up again and realised that he had turned his back on him so that he at least had some privacy. Merry sighed as he used one hand to steady himself against the tub, silently cursing his bodies weakness, while the other hand worked to pulled his nightshirt up round his waist. When it was bunched as far as if would go he turned and sat on the side of the tub and pulled it over his head, dropping it to the floor. He then gingerly leaned back and splayed one hand on the bottom of the tub and slowly slid his body down into the water. It was just the right temperature and felt like balm to Merry's fatigued body, he unconsciously let out a moan of pleasure as his eyes fluttered closed, allowing the sensation to envelope him.
At the sound of water moving and stilling, and the soft moan that reached his sharp ears (allowing himself a chuckle), Hamfast decided it was time to leave. "Will ye be wanting anything else Sir?"
"No I'm alright thank you"
"Very good. I'll be back in fifteen minutes then to help ye out"
Merry's eyes popped wide open. "No I can manage that"
"Not without someone in the room Sir, I'm under yer Uncles orders...but if ye think ye can do it on yer own, then I'll keep me back turned like this while ye do it. Tis the best I can offer Sir, under the circumstances"
Merry thought this over, his uncle didn't give outright orders often, but he knew that Hamfast would follow them to the letter. He looked at Hamfast, the tension written across the gardener's muscular shoulders and the way he'd planted his feet a good width apart told Merry he was awaiting an answer. Warring with emotions Merry chided himself, *Pull yourself together idiot, he's going to start thinking your odd* but he couldn't stop a chill from running down his spine. "I'll see you again in fifteen minutes then, I shan't try to get out until then...you have my word".
Ham nodded in approval. "On your word then sir. I'll be back in fifteen, call if ye need ought"
As Hamfast opened the door to leave he caught a less steady voice whisper "thank you" before he heard the water sloshing and a cloth being lathered.
***
"Who... are you?"
Those three simple words were enough to elicit a small involuntary cry of pain, which Bilbo instantly stifled as he looked pleadingly to the healer. Laura mirrored his anguish to a degree, this was not right; the fever should be coming down not going up! She had followed her training to the letter and beyond, this should not be! She checked again running her small hands through Frodo's, thick, sweat-soaked curls, they came away dripping. The fever was on the rise and had brought back a new wave of painful, exhaustive coughing fits that left Frodo's small frame trembling with fatigue. There was only one thing for it; Laura had to get as much of the fluid off of Frodo's lungs as she could to give him a fighting chance.
She pinched and pulled a small area of skin on the back of his right hand, then released it, frowning at how little elasticity it exhibited as the skin slowly drew back into place. That was a bad sign, it meant that their frantic efforts to keep the young Master hydrated were failing, his body was slowly, painfully, loosing its battle. And Frodo was slipping away from them.
Frodo tried to pull his hand from her grasp and cried out in pain, his skin was overly sensitive and he was so tired of being too hot, poked and prodded. It was all becoming too much for him to bear. Every time he awoke he found it harder and harder to tell which was dream and which was reality. Everything seemed to be fading, memories of better times, beloved faces, were being ripped from his very cells. He felt completely alone and scared witless, hands reaching out at him from the dark, words that he could not understand, and the never ending fire that was consuming his body and driving him mad. Panting from his exertions his eyes focused briefly on the old hobbit beside his female torturer, he glared hatefully into those brown eyes and managed to rasp again, "Who are you?"
The hobbit stiffened and his eyes glistened with unshed tears, his features twisting in pain and he reached out to lightly caress his distraught child. But before he could Frodo turned away from him and began to sob into his pillow "Why-Why do you l-let her hur-r-rt me?" He then, in a last ditches effort to escape, tried to swing his legs over the opposite side of the bed. Strong hands locked around his limbs and he was pulled back onto the mattress, exhausted and screaming.
"DON'T TOUCH ME!!!" His throat tore in mid-scream and was forced to continue in a panting whisper. "Please...p-please don't do this to me..." He closed his eyes and fell into a troubled sleep.
Bilbo smoothed the locks away from Frodo's face once more, as it was their mission to poke in the poor lads eyes relentlessly; he didn't even try to hide the anguish in his tone as he asked, "How is he, Laura? He seems worse."
Her eye's stung as tears began to form, but she refused to allow them freedom, and smiled. "He's doing fine Sir, just fine. No need to..." But her façade crumbled as she turned to Bilbo and saw the shadows form in the depths of his dark brown eyes. She gasped and took an involuntary step back; his earthen eyes had turned almost black and pierced her to her very core. She had never noticed before how frightening Master Bilbo could be as the shadow descended upon him. "I'm sorry Sir" She said and looked away for an instant.
"Don't give me false hope lass, it is cruel and unbecoming of you. Tell me" He implored, though he feared he knew the answer already.
When she was able to continue she made sure she held his gaze to insure that he knew she was telling him the truth. "He's in a bad way Sir. I've treated him every way I know how...but he don't respond."
"What's wrong with him? Sam and Merry suffered the same experience yet they are only afflicted with colds, neither has show anything like..." Bilbo waved his hand frustratedly in his nephew's direction as speech failed him. A deep frown making the lines on his face seem more severe as he watched his nephew weakly toss his head and mumble to himself.
"True sir. But Mr Merry and Samwise weren't in the water as long as Mr Frodo, the cold had longer to work itself inta him...I have no idea how he managed ta pull himself clear. By the laws o' Hypothermia he shouldn' ta been able ta do even that!"
She paused taking in his too thin body that was rapidly becoming gaunt looking (hobbit-lads cannot go for more than a day without suffering noticeable weight loss); he had not taken a single bit since the accident. "And to be honest with ye Sir, he never could carry a decent weight."
"That's the Brandybuck in him I'm afraid, he takes after his fair mother, she never carried a normal hobbit's roundness...even after his birth"
"With this kind o situation sir it don't do him no favours. He's got less to spare than the others"
"But Merry has a slender build also, Brandybuck blood again. I'll grant not as slender as my lad, where is the difference?!" Bilbo was desperate to find an answer. He was usually so good at working out riddles, but where Frodo was concerned his mind remained a nest of confusion.
"I'm sorry sir...I don't have all the answers, I wish I did" She looked down at her hands, they displayed a light speckling of a yellowish brown sputum with a few flecks of blood here an there. Frodo had started coughing it up that morning, it had not gone unnoticed by Bilbo, but Laura had just cleaned the lad up and held a cloth to his mouth as he coughed again. The blood was not a good sign, and she quickly gave Frodo a once over. As she dapped the damp cloth gently over his mouth and chin she turned the cloth over and examined it closely; it showed a faint pinkish tinge in places.
"I need ta wash me hands, I'll be back in a minute" She hurried from the room. Once she closed the door to the inside washroom she scrubbed her hands and nails thoroughly. She looked in the mirror at her haggard appearance, *not good girl for a lass of thirty-eight! * She chided. There had to be a way, she'd made a promise and she intended to see it true.
She wasn't sure how long she had been in there staring into nothingness, but she jumped when Bilbo knocked on the door and inquire as to her well being, also apologising for his harsh questioning earlier. As she turned to open the door and try to lighten the mood with a joke her eyes fell upon the huge, deep, metal tub that lay upturned in the corner of the slate floored room. Yes! Her mind raced, it would be an arduous task, but it was the only thing left to try. She ripped open the door with such ferocity that it sent Bilbo reeling back in surprise, "I got one choice left sir, how fast can yer tub be filled with lukewarm water?
"As fast as need be, Master Hamfast is out in the garden and will not mind helping. Why?"
"Well sir, Mr Frodo has fluid on his lungs an it's goin bad...that's what this muck is he keeps bringin up. If we can bring down his fever a little an get him to breath in more o that Lavender oil then it'll help loosen everything enough"
"Enough for what?" He asked as he turned the heavy tub over and dragged it into the centre of the room, fetching a stack of towels from the cupboard and placing them in preparation on the side.
"Well now, that'll be the hard part, I'll need yer help."
"Anything!" Bilbo interrupted before he realised he'd spoken and bad her continue.
"The way Mr Frodo is now it'll most likely hurt him... a lot. But I need ta have him on his bed and pound his back a bit" She gave a weak smile as Bilbo listened intently. "The lavender should have worked it's magic by then and my hands'll do the rest...he needs ta bring up as much muck as he can. The less inside the better he'll breath"
"I understand. Is it safe?"
"Completely, but painful for the lad"
"Has it been done before?"
"Yes sir"
But Bilbo detected the slight hesitation in her answer. "But not by you" It was not a question.
"No Sir, it hasn't. But I've been trained by the best, folk say what they will about Miss Poppy's bedside manner, but there's no denyin her quality"
Bilbo's eyes softened and he gave her a small smile, "I meant no offence Laura, if you say you can do this then I will believe you"
"I can sir, it's what I'm trained for" But she secretly wished for Poppy, her confidence had taken a beating since the babies death. It had been the first time a patient in her care had died, it had effected her more deeply than when she and Poppy had lost patients in the past.
Within twenty minutes a bath stood waiting filled with lukewarm water, about two feet deep. Bilbo carried through a very groggy, limp Frodo. Laura removed Frodo's shirt while still in his uncle's arms, he moaned, as he was shifted first one way and then the other. Laura moved round the opposite side of the tub and rolled up her sleeves as Bilbo slowly lowered Frodo.
Although the water was lukewarm, to Frodo it felt like he had been plunged naked into a snowdrift. He clung desperately to the shirt of the one that lowered him further and reared as far as his exhausted body would permit. His eyes refused to open and small pitiful sounds of pain crawled past his chattering teeth.
Bilbo managed to unpick Frodo's fingers from his weskit, surprised at their strength as a button popped under the strain, he lowered him the rest of the way down until just his face was above water. The scent of lavender rose from the bath water, the air was heavy with moisture and it wasn't long before Bilbo heard a change in Frodo's breathing pattern. It was becoming more laboured as the herbs set to work.
Laura added several other oils to the water as Frodo's lungs began to protest, just another ten minutes and it would be over. She didn't really know Frodo all that well but the handful of times their paths had crossed he had always been very kind and conscientious. The first time they met, she had been struggling to carry both her leather medical bag (which she was never caught without) and two baskets full of mushrooms, cheese, fresh fruit and vegetables It had been Frodo who had cheerfully abandoned his own business and come to her rescue. Even going so far as to take both baskets and walk her to her door, she chuckled to herself at the memory. She hadn't a clue how to repay someone of his social standing and had rather shyly offered, the then tween, an apple as a token of her thanks. But instead of rejecting it or laughing he had accepted it with glee and excused himself...something about a tailoring appointment and ran off before she could say anything more. Not even a shadow of the hobbit his relatives the Sackville-Bagginses had painted of him, but then as she knew, they were hardly ones to throw stones. Laura herself found their behaviour quite disgraceful and their son was a darn right menace!
"Laura? Laura! His breathing sounds dreadful"
Bilbo's voice brought her back sharply, she realised she had allowed her mind to wonder and cursed herself for it. "How long has he been breathing like that?"
"About ten minutes" The note of annoyance could not be concealed in Bilbo's answer.
Laura smiled and opened out one of the large fluffy towels as an unspoken signal, while Bilbo lifted Frodo's shaking body from the water. Laura moved forward and quickly wrapped him up until only his long legs and wet curls could be seen.
He had started to cough again by the time they reached his room; Bilbo dried him off thoroughly as Laura manoeuvred another nightshirt over his head. Bilbo caught her smiling and knew what she was thinking.
"I know, I know. It's just as well that I insisted on buying him as many as I did, though I don't think it was the present he wanted!" Bilbo grinned as he continued to dry Frodo's hair. "He still hasn't grasped the importance of fine cloths, prefers to go off climbing tree's and running through mud filled fields in any fabric! Satin, silk, velvet, nothing is safe..." He paused as he finished his task and discarded the towel, "...and I wouldn't want to change him for the world. Although I'm sure Fern is going to have her work cut out for her tomorrow, between the three of them I believe they've gotten through at least fifteen nightshirts in all and I'm not even going to attempt to count the linen"
Laura chuckled.
Their merriment was cut short as Frodo lurched forward in Bilbo's arms and began to cough uncontrollably.
"Poor little mite" Laura breathed as she rubbed his back while Bilbo held his head for him. Then she remembered herself and quickly continued, "It'll be over soon Mr Frodo, just this last little bit to do an then ye can sleep"
With Bilbo's help she turned Frodo onto his stomach, facing the foot of his bed and pulled him down until his head hung over the edge. Then she knelt next to him and began to rub his back quite firmly, moving her hands with practised ease between his prominent shoulder blades, then from one side of his spin to the other. All the while Bilbo squatted in front of Frodo, bowl in one hand and cloth in the other murmuring something to him in another tongue. It did seem to be easing the child's discomfort. After several minutes of doing this Laura began to lightly clop in rapid succession with both hands over one small area at a time, her hands were a blur of movement; the beautifully smooth, delicate skin beneath them began to redden. Frodo's body began to vibrate with the dull thudding sounds her hands were creating; he came back to wakefulness as the force of Laura's strikes increased.
"Aaagh! Stop! Stop it!" Frodo cried, his voice echoing the strikes, before a violent cough bubbled to the surface.
He coughed up more of the fluid from before into the waiting bowl and began to sob in misery. Laura was encouraged as he brought up more and more of the foul liquid, gagging as he did, face turning impossibly red. By the time she had finished, Frodo was almost unconscious, head limp, body unmoving, too tired to even shiver, and mouth hanging open. His back was red-raw and Bilbo wore an agonised look as he stroked his child's sweat soaked cheek. Small drops of perspiration dripped from Frodo's curls onto the back of Bilbo's hand, as he continued the calming gesture. It seemed to be doing the trick as Frodo's breathing began to return to its proper rhythm.
Laura marvelled at the strength of bond that the two cousins obviously shared, Frodo's mind might not have recognised Bilbo for the moment, but his body remembered his touch and he visibly relaxed under his Uncles gentle caresses and soothing words.
Frodo's eyes were distant and heavy lidded and he was only dimly aware that whoever had been hitting him had stopped. He wondered briefly if he had gotten into a fight, but was too exhausted to persue the thought further. He fell asleep.
***
Merry had had to be sedated next door, as the screams and groans of his cousin penetrated the adjacent, thick stonewall and reached his hearing. Both Bell and Hamfast had managed to thwart his best efforts to sneak out, he had hope that when it came time for Hamfast to leave and tend his own work and home that he would be able to take advantage then. But he had only managed to get as far as opening the door, when a very stern looking Bell ordered him back to bed. When he refused he was startled to find himself being carried back and placed in bed. Bell was stronger then she looked.
She chuckled at his expression "Ye have ta be strong ta bring six bairns inta this world Master Brandybuck"
Merry flushed and decided his hands were very interesting all of a sudden. Bell smiled as she pushed him back onto his pillow and pulled the covers up to his chest, lightly tucking him in.
"What's happening to Frodo? What are they doing to him? He sounds in pain!" Merry chewed his lip as he waited for a response.
Bell's face grew sad as she sat by Merry's bed and tried to explain things as best she could. "Master Frodo has the fever as ye know" He nodded. "Miss Goodbody is doing everythin she can for him. He's in good hands. Now don't ye go frettin none"
"But why is he screaming like that?" Merry persisted and as if in answer to his question another blood chilling scream rang out.
Bell sighed. "He don't understand what's happenin ta him. That's why Mr Bilbo won't leave him, sometimes he remembers and it's Mr Bilbo he looks for."
Large tears had silently trickled from Merry's eyes as he listened, his poor cousin.
"There, there now, don't cry Sir. He'll be well soon, you'll see"
But Merry wasn't really listening, he was just grateful that Sam was asleep and did not have to listen to Frodo's continued cry's, it would break his heart...as it was breaking his own.
*What I wouldn't give for you to be here with me now Pip, I could really do with some cheering up* He wished, then became annoyed with himself in that same moment. *Yes, that's right, wish him to be here so he can see and hear our cousin like this. Give him nightmares for the rest of his life! Selfish Brandybuck! * He rolled onto his good side and tried his hardest to sleep; anything to block out the images of what was happening to Frodo, from manifested themselves in his brain.
Bell soon became concerned as Merry missed his two evening meals, not even Sam could coax him to take a bite, and he wore a vacant expression. But it was his silence that was most disconcerting, in the end Bell briefly consulted with Laura.
Laura closely followed by Bell entered the room; Laura made a beeline for Merry. Merry had briefly fallen back to sleep, Laura took the opportunity to study the lad. He was making excellent progress yet he still wore dark smudges under his eyes and did seem a little paler than the evening before. She slowly sat on the edge of his bed and checked his temperature, normal, that was good. She was in the process of opening his mouth when he surprised awake and caught the hand trying to pry his mouth open before he could blink the sleep away.
"It's alright Mr Merry, only me" She allowed her hand to be gripped until he was awake enough to realise what he was doing and blushed, quickly withdrawing the offending hand. "Now I'm just giving ye a quick once over, it needs ta be done, so ye just lie back an it'll be over soon"
Merry only nodded and stared at the ceiling awaiting the examination to continue.
Laura frowned, this was not the reaction she had expected and it worried her a touch. She opened his mouth and had a good look round, as her other hand felt his glands and then checked his pulse. She went on to examine his eyes and test their reaction rates and asked him to follow her fingers.
"Last check sir and it's all over" She reached for the bedding and pulled it down to his waist then started to pull his nightshirt up. That got a reaction. Merry grabbed the offending material that Laura had already bunched at his waist and held if firm, while he formed a death grip with his other hand on the bedding. He glared at her unflinchingly while the two of them locked eyes. Laura pursed her lips she wanted very much to speak with Merry, alone, about this, but now was not the time. And so far the silent exchange had not attracted Bell's attention as she fused around her son. She would not embarrass the young lad, and gossip was too easily started in the Shire. 'Walls have ears' her old dad had said, and never a truer word spoken, especially in Hobbiton!
She sighed as she leaned forward to whisper in his ear. "I'm not goin ta harm ya Merry, but I need to check that rib" She paused, choosing her words carefully. "Ye know it was broke, right?" She drew back to study him.
Merry's face drained of what little colour it had and he pinched his lips, but his eyes softened and after a time he gave her a small nod. He unhooked his fingers from the bedding and shirt, and forced himself to breath normally as Laura very gently pulled back his shirt enough to expose the injury, all the time making sure her body blocked any view that Sam or Bell might have.
The soft flesh was still discoloured with a brownish yellow bruise, but on the whole it looked very good. Laura never ceased to be amazed at how quickly children healed compared to their adult counterparts. She ran her fingers over the area and easily located the slight bump, pushing lightly around it and then over it, all the time watching Merry's face as he continued to stare into nothingness. He didn't seem to be in pain, just to make sure she pushed once more over the bump. A large, lone, tear ran quickly down Merry's cheek, she had found the small chink in his armour. So it was pretence after all, he was in pain, and had managed to conceal it better than most adults, which she found disconcerting.
She retrieved a medium sized bottle containing a brownish liquid, which she pored into her hand and, with great care, worked into that whole area until his skin had completely absorbed it, leaving only a brown smudge. She pulled his shirt back down and carefully arranged his bedding back up to his chest, stroking his curls as she contemplated her patient.
The Propolis liquid would help with the rib, but he desperately needed sleep, that much was obvious and she was now positive that he was not getting much of that on his own. Reluctantly she gave permission for Bell to give him some of Sam's herbal mix.
Bell was a sharp woman and realised the source of Merry's new distress, Frodo, and upon relaying that information to Laura, the healer decided to up the dosage to six drops. She handed her another small phial and asked her to use two drops of it in his drink as well. It would insure that when he awoke he would not be able to deny his hunger. With that said and done Laura quickly hurried back to Frodo's room.
"Are you alright Mr Merry?" Sam asked at length from across the room. He had picked up on the strained atmosphere, but had waited until the adults were out of earshot before addressing the source.
No answer.
"Did I do something to upset you? If I did then I'm very sorry"
That earned him a faint smile and a slow shake of Merry's head.
Just then Bell returned with a nice piping hot meal of delicious vegetable soup, thickly laced with mushrooms for Sam and a glass of juice for Merry. She set about fluffing Sam's pillows and making sure he was comfortable before placing a spare pillow across his lap and placing the bowl in it's centre. Sam breathed in its aroma and smiled up at his mum as she beamed and kissed his brow, ruffled his golden curls.
"Eat up my lad, I done it just the way ye like it, with a little pepper an plenty o' mushrooms!"
"Thanks Ma" But as he went to take his first bit he noticed that Merry had nothing and slowly lowered his spoon and looked worriedly to Merry, he was reluctant to eat if Merry did not.
Bell frowned at her son and followed his gaze to the young Brandybuck who lay unmoved as before, hands folded behind his head, staring. In a forced cheery voice she walked over to his bedside. "Are ye sure I can't persuade ya ta at least try a little soup? I reckon ye'd like it if ya gave it a try" She coaxed.
But he just shook his head and took to staring out the window beside the head of his bed once more. Bell pursed her lips but said nothing of what she'd like to say. Instead she offered him the juice and before he could refuse it she informed him that if he wasn't going to eat then he had to at least drink, or Laura had threatened to come in and help him.
His eyes widened at the implication and with great annoyance he propped himself up on his elbows and took the glass from her. Draining it dry before handing it back to her.
"There now, that weren't so bad, was it?" She was glad to see that Sam had begun to tuck into his soup enthusiastically. "Well now I've got ta go sort out the laundry, it's wash day an I don't reckon anyone's remembered and Mrs Fern will be here in under an hour. Sam when I come back I want ta see that bowl empty, and Mr Merry, if you change yer mind I've made plenty. I'll be just down the hall if ye need anything"
And with that said she was gone, bundling up a few garments that were piled on a chair in the room (that also needed washing) as she went. When Sam was sure she was out of earshot he carefully placed the bowl on his side table, threw back his covers and padded silently over to where Merry lay. He stood still, suddenly unsure of himself. Merry turned to face him and shifted over patting the bed as he did. Sam hopped up as Merry sat up and put his back to the window.
"Please sir, tell me what's wrong. Has something happened?" Sam paled, eyes becoming impossible wide "Mr Frodo?" He croaked.
"No. No. Nothing like that Sam" Merry patted the young hobbits good arm and wondered if Sam would ever think about himself before others.
"Then what sir?" Maybe it was the sincerity in Sam's voice or the fact that Merry's defences were low, but he found himself answering Sam before he'd even had time to choose his words.
"Frodo was screaming earlier and it just reminded me of...." His eyes became like saucers as he realised what he was about to reveal. Thankfully Sam was still hung up on the 'Frodo was screaming' part to perceive the rest.
"Why was Mr Frodo screaming sir?" His voice a strangled whisper as he nervously began to chew on the sheet corner at hand.
"He still has fever Sam, your mother said he sometimes doesn't recognise people"
"He'll recognise me!" Sam stuck out his chin in defiance, puffing out his chest and made to move off the bed.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you Sam, from what I can gather he's sleeping now and he needs the rest. And no, he wouldn't recognise you..." Merry's voice hitched "...he didn't even recognise me"
Sam's ears pricked "When did you get to see him?" Then he remembered his manners and lamely added "Sir"
"That first morning, after you fell asleep, he woke up...but not really. He didn't really understand it was me standing there, he recognised Bilbo briefly, but even that was muddled." He certainly wasn't going to tell Sam about the vase business, or he may as well fill in the hole himself, for Sam would surely blame himself for that too.
Sam frowned and was about to ask another question, (the one Merry was dreading) when he felt Merry slump into his side. Their heads banged and Sam was a little too stunned to react at first. But as he felt Merry trying in vain to lift his head off of Sam's shoulder he came back to himself and quickly helped to lower the confused hobbit back onto his pillow. Merry's eyes were blinking too rapidly, as if, like his head, the lids had become too heavy to stay up.
"Sam...What's happening?" He asked as he realised he was loosing the battle. He felt strangely detached, when he spoke it sounded strange, as if it were not his voice at all.
"I don't know sir, I don't know. I'll be back before you know I'm gone, I'll get Ma!" And with that he tore off with renewed strength towards the kitchen.
"Samwise Gamgee! Just what do ye think yer doing out ta bed and runnin around Bag-End in naught but a shirt?" Shouted Bell, hands on hips as she returned from the laundry-room, but upon seeing her sons face she allowed him to pull her down the corridor and to Merry's bedside.
She sat down on the side of Merry's bed and observed the Brandybuck's struggles. His face wore a determined look, jaw clenched in concentration, as his eyes fluttered continuously like butterflies; he was plainly fighting the effects of the herbs. Bell sighed and asked Sam to get back into his bed and that she would explain everything to him in a minute. He hesitated for a moment, but was comforted by his mother's lack of concern and complied.
Merry's nostrils flared and his hands clenched the bed sheets, turning the knuckles white with the effort to fight whatever was effecting him so, but Bells finger's combed through his hair repeatedly as she pulled the covers back into place and told him not to fight it. She lightly stroked her thumb over his eyebrow, as she had observed his uncle do several nights ago when he had been having a bad dream, pleased that it's calming effect on him was not limited to only his uncles touch. He was still fighting even when his lids finally won and came to rest upon his cheekbones. Just before he lost altogether, understanding dawned on him. He had been drugged, the juice! It must have been the same one that they were giving to Sam, he felt anger rise in him, but it died as he sank into blissful nothingness.
Bell continued to stroke through Merry's curls. As she watched him grow still, she reached over and pulled the heavy drape across, shutting out the night's sky. When she turned back, his breathing had grown deep and steady and his face finally looked peaceful.
It had only been three days since the accident and their colds had almost cleared up, Bell mused. Aside from the odd sniffle that dogged Sam at nighttimes and Merry's continued weakness in his legs. Bell instructed her son to finish his food and took the opportunity to explain what had happened to Merry. Sam listened in silence, as he finished his soup and gladly gulped down the rest of his juice; a sudden thought occurred to him as his mother lightly bathed his wrist.
"Ma?"
"Yes Love?"
He yawned twice before he could continue and absentmindedly rubbed at his eyes. "You wouldn't do that ta me would you?"
"What's that dear?" Bell feigned ignorance as she carefully dried his wrist and began to lightly rub some salve over it.
As Bell finished the binding another wave of yawns assailed Sam and he found his mother gently coaxing him back into the deliciously soft feather pillow. He rubbed his itchy nose as she tucked him in, "You wouldn't give me anythin like Mr Merry, would you Ma?"
"You look tired dear, get some rest" He smiled sleepily up at her as she leaned over him and planted a kiss on his brow, stroked his cheek until he drifted off.
She shook her head at her son's unquestionable innocence and tutted herself *Laura's a bad influence on me, that she is! *
Tbc ~
AUTHOR: Mainframe
RATING: PG
PAIRING: None so far
Disclaimer: The Hobbits belong to J. R.R. Tolkien and are not of my creation and I make no money from this or other stories involving them, this is purely a non-profit fiction of my creation in honour of the book & movies. However this storyline is mine.
SUMMARY: It's been raining none stop for over a month in the shire and Bilbo is being driven mad by three young hobbits with too much energy to spend. But is his solution to the problem a wise one or could it led to disaster?
NOTES: Thank you to everyone who was kind enough to post their feedback to me in light of the continued problems Fanfiction is experiencing. BellaMonte many thanks for your lovely e-mail, hope this next chapter is to your liking!
STORY WATCH: Rachelstonebreaker has taken matters into her own hands in light of the continued troubles of FanFiction.net and her MANY times updated story "Recovery" can now be read at: http://www.beckyswebdesign.com/ff/recovery1.htm Llinos has updated "Recapture" and it's a nail biting chapter *Aaaaaaaagh! * And I've practically screamed the place down when I read "Explain the night" by Eretria (did actually shout 'No!' And in doing so scared my mate to death. Whoops!). "Little Bird" by Murron is a sweet stand on it's own tale about Pippin mainly (very sweet and well worth a read). | | |
Brandywine
Chapter 15: Who are you?
Three days pasted painfully slowly at Bag-End. Samwise and Merry awoke the next morning after their trauma, as well as could be expected, both suffering from colds. Later it was decided to move them to the double guestroom next-door to Frodo's room, under a great deal of protest. However when it was explained that it was to protect Frodo they accepted this explanation, for Frodo was plainly gravely ill.
Sam and Merry wanted for nothing as Bell Gamgee officially took over both lads care, thus freeing Laura to concentrate solely on Frodo, who seemed to have taken a turn for the worst of late.
Daisy was placed in charge of her mother's choirs while Hamson took over his father's workload in the village. Halfred tended to the family choirs that were too heavy for Daisy and the others, gardening, chopping firewood, in short most of the manual labour, while Hamfast set about forking over the sodden, ruined gardens at Bag-End. They had suffered, and all but the most hardy of plants and trees had either been washed away or become so waterlogged that it had started to rot root first. It also meant that should any unexpected developments happen, he would be at hand. In short the Gamgee family had moulded itself into an even stronger, more efficient unit than it had before.
Hamfast however could not help but detect a slightly strained atmosphere between Daisy and May, as they worked together in the kitchen at Bagshot Row, a quarrel of some sort no doubt. May's behaviour of late had been a bit off he noticed, she simply wasn't her usual chatty self and seemed to concentrate on her work more than was needed. He kept a watchful eye on her hoping that it was just sisterly concern towards her brother that was forcing her from her bed at night. If it had anything to do with a lad he would certainly have both their hides. But for the moment he had other priorities, he would have to ask Daisy about her sister's new nightly escapades later.
Sam's wrist was giving him a great deal of pain and though he bore it stoically his father informed Laura of the situation and it was agreed that Sam needed some form of pain relief. However none could have foreseen that he would outright refuse it, even a stern word from his father could not sway him. He simply stated that he didn't need it and that it wasn't as bad as it looked.
Hamfast couldn't help the swell of pride that gleamed in his eyes, but he had spoken with Merry that morning and knew the truth. Sam was in a great deal of pain, Merry had been watching him closely out of the corner of his eye when Sam thought him asleep; he watched as silent tears rolled down his round face, eyes scrunched shut, as he clutched his wrist close to his chest. Merry also mentioned that Sam was blaming himself for the whole accident and that he thought maybe Sam was trying to punish himself. This worried Ham a great deal, he had long known of his son's affection for Master Frodo and that it went further than the normal master-servant relationship, there was really friendship between the two. He had never been particularly easy about that, but knew that Frodo without Sam was like Strawberries without cream, they just seemed to fit.
Laura managed to mix a very potent concoction of Lemon Balm, ginger, Camomile and Poppy pods, which could be taken with juice but was most effective as a tea. A few drops of the boiled down liquid mix in apple juice was enough to send Sam to sleep for hours at a time. It also enabled her to bathe the joint and change the bandage without causing him any further pain, for which Hamfast and Bell were very grateful. Although Laura did later receive a thorough dressing down from Bilbo when he realised why he had fallen asleep so suddenly the other night!
Laura also took the opportunity to show Bell exactly what needed doing and when, for both boys. She really could not afford as much time to them as she would like, but Bell was a mother six times over and knew most of the basics already. She proved to be a fast learner and possessed a memory the envy of any healer worth their salt. Each lad needed a strip-wash every morning and evening, with water infused with various oils. Bell found it easier to wash her son (who turned as red as a beetroot at the mere suggestion) after he had consumed his juice. When he was drifting between consciousness and sleep, just awake enough to take a command without question, usually 'arms up' or 'turn over'. She could not however even get within three feet of Merry; she managed to stifle a giggle at the look of absolute horror on his red face at the prospect of being bathed. A solution was reached; Hamfast filled the tin bath in the washroom with four inches of hot water each morning and evening and helped support a very shaky Merry down the corridor and to the edge of the tub.
"You can leave now, I'll be fine on my own thank you" Merry stated breathlessly the first time.
Hamfast was having none of it; on the way down the corridor Merry had been forced to lean on him heavily. "Now then young Master, I didn't go to all the trouble o' makin sure there weren't enough water for ye ta drown in, only ta have ya slip on this here wet floor and hurt yerself"
Merry looked down at the slate beneath his feet, it was dry as a bone, Hamfast had not spilt a single drop, he looked up again and realised that he had turned his back on him so that he at least had some privacy. Merry sighed as he used one hand to steady himself against the tub, silently cursing his bodies weakness, while the other hand worked to pulled his nightshirt up round his waist. When it was bunched as far as if would go he turned and sat on the side of the tub and pulled it over his head, dropping it to the floor. He then gingerly leaned back and splayed one hand on the bottom of the tub and slowly slid his body down into the water. It was just the right temperature and felt like balm to Merry's fatigued body, he unconsciously let out a moan of pleasure as his eyes fluttered closed, allowing the sensation to envelope him.
At the sound of water moving and stilling, and the soft moan that reached his sharp ears (allowing himself a chuckle), Hamfast decided it was time to leave. "Will ye be wanting anything else Sir?"
"No I'm alright thank you"
"Very good. I'll be back in fifteen minutes then to help ye out"
Merry's eyes popped wide open. "No I can manage that"
"Not without someone in the room Sir, I'm under yer Uncles orders...but if ye think ye can do it on yer own, then I'll keep me back turned like this while ye do it. Tis the best I can offer Sir, under the circumstances"
Merry thought this over, his uncle didn't give outright orders often, but he knew that Hamfast would follow them to the letter. He looked at Hamfast, the tension written across the gardener's muscular shoulders and the way he'd planted his feet a good width apart told Merry he was awaiting an answer. Warring with emotions Merry chided himself, *Pull yourself together idiot, he's going to start thinking your odd* but he couldn't stop a chill from running down his spine. "I'll see you again in fifteen minutes then, I shan't try to get out until then...you have my word".
Ham nodded in approval. "On your word then sir. I'll be back in fifteen, call if ye need ought"
As Hamfast opened the door to leave he caught a less steady voice whisper "thank you" before he heard the water sloshing and a cloth being lathered.
***
"Who... are you?"
Those three simple words were enough to elicit a small involuntary cry of pain, which Bilbo instantly stifled as he looked pleadingly to the healer. Laura mirrored his anguish to a degree, this was not right; the fever should be coming down not going up! She had followed her training to the letter and beyond, this should not be! She checked again running her small hands through Frodo's, thick, sweat-soaked curls, they came away dripping. The fever was on the rise and had brought back a new wave of painful, exhaustive coughing fits that left Frodo's small frame trembling with fatigue. There was only one thing for it; Laura had to get as much of the fluid off of Frodo's lungs as she could to give him a fighting chance.
She pinched and pulled a small area of skin on the back of his right hand, then released it, frowning at how little elasticity it exhibited as the skin slowly drew back into place. That was a bad sign, it meant that their frantic efforts to keep the young Master hydrated were failing, his body was slowly, painfully, loosing its battle. And Frodo was slipping away from them.
Frodo tried to pull his hand from her grasp and cried out in pain, his skin was overly sensitive and he was so tired of being too hot, poked and prodded. It was all becoming too much for him to bear. Every time he awoke he found it harder and harder to tell which was dream and which was reality. Everything seemed to be fading, memories of better times, beloved faces, were being ripped from his very cells. He felt completely alone and scared witless, hands reaching out at him from the dark, words that he could not understand, and the never ending fire that was consuming his body and driving him mad. Panting from his exertions his eyes focused briefly on the old hobbit beside his female torturer, he glared hatefully into those brown eyes and managed to rasp again, "Who are you?"
The hobbit stiffened and his eyes glistened with unshed tears, his features twisting in pain and he reached out to lightly caress his distraught child. But before he could Frodo turned away from him and began to sob into his pillow "Why-Why do you l-let her hur-r-rt me?" He then, in a last ditches effort to escape, tried to swing his legs over the opposite side of the bed. Strong hands locked around his limbs and he was pulled back onto the mattress, exhausted and screaming.
"DON'T TOUCH ME!!!" His throat tore in mid-scream and was forced to continue in a panting whisper. "Please...p-please don't do this to me..." He closed his eyes and fell into a troubled sleep.
Bilbo smoothed the locks away from Frodo's face once more, as it was their mission to poke in the poor lads eyes relentlessly; he didn't even try to hide the anguish in his tone as he asked, "How is he, Laura? He seems worse."
Her eye's stung as tears began to form, but she refused to allow them freedom, and smiled. "He's doing fine Sir, just fine. No need to..." But her façade crumbled as she turned to Bilbo and saw the shadows form in the depths of his dark brown eyes. She gasped and took an involuntary step back; his earthen eyes had turned almost black and pierced her to her very core. She had never noticed before how frightening Master Bilbo could be as the shadow descended upon him. "I'm sorry Sir" She said and looked away for an instant.
"Don't give me false hope lass, it is cruel and unbecoming of you. Tell me" He implored, though he feared he knew the answer already.
When she was able to continue she made sure she held his gaze to insure that he knew she was telling him the truth. "He's in a bad way Sir. I've treated him every way I know how...but he don't respond."
"What's wrong with him? Sam and Merry suffered the same experience yet they are only afflicted with colds, neither has show anything like..." Bilbo waved his hand frustratedly in his nephew's direction as speech failed him. A deep frown making the lines on his face seem more severe as he watched his nephew weakly toss his head and mumble to himself.
"True sir. But Mr Merry and Samwise weren't in the water as long as Mr Frodo, the cold had longer to work itself inta him...I have no idea how he managed ta pull himself clear. By the laws o' Hypothermia he shouldn' ta been able ta do even that!"
She paused taking in his too thin body that was rapidly becoming gaunt looking (hobbit-lads cannot go for more than a day without suffering noticeable weight loss); he had not taken a single bit since the accident. "And to be honest with ye Sir, he never could carry a decent weight."
"That's the Brandybuck in him I'm afraid, he takes after his fair mother, she never carried a normal hobbit's roundness...even after his birth"
"With this kind o situation sir it don't do him no favours. He's got less to spare than the others"
"But Merry has a slender build also, Brandybuck blood again. I'll grant not as slender as my lad, where is the difference?!" Bilbo was desperate to find an answer. He was usually so good at working out riddles, but where Frodo was concerned his mind remained a nest of confusion.
"I'm sorry sir...I don't have all the answers, I wish I did" She looked down at her hands, they displayed a light speckling of a yellowish brown sputum with a few flecks of blood here an there. Frodo had started coughing it up that morning, it had not gone unnoticed by Bilbo, but Laura had just cleaned the lad up and held a cloth to his mouth as he coughed again. The blood was not a good sign, and she quickly gave Frodo a once over. As she dapped the damp cloth gently over his mouth and chin she turned the cloth over and examined it closely; it showed a faint pinkish tinge in places.
"I need ta wash me hands, I'll be back in a minute" She hurried from the room. Once she closed the door to the inside washroom she scrubbed her hands and nails thoroughly. She looked in the mirror at her haggard appearance, *not good girl for a lass of thirty-eight! * She chided. There had to be a way, she'd made a promise and she intended to see it true.
She wasn't sure how long she had been in there staring into nothingness, but she jumped when Bilbo knocked on the door and inquire as to her well being, also apologising for his harsh questioning earlier. As she turned to open the door and try to lighten the mood with a joke her eyes fell upon the huge, deep, metal tub that lay upturned in the corner of the slate floored room. Yes! Her mind raced, it would be an arduous task, but it was the only thing left to try. She ripped open the door with such ferocity that it sent Bilbo reeling back in surprise, "I got one choice left sir, how fast can yer tub be filled with lukewarm water?
"As fast as need be, Master Hamfast is out in the garden and will not mind helping. Why?"
"Well sir, Mr Frodo has fluid on his lungs an it's goin bad...that's what this muck is he keeps bringin up. If we can bring down his fever a little an get him to breath in more o that Lavender oil then it'll help loosen everything enough"
"Enough for what?" He asked as he turned the heavy tub over and dragged it into the centre of the room, fetching a stack of towels from the cupboard and placing them in preparation on the side.
"Well now, that'll be the hard part, I'll need yer help."
"Anything!" Bilbo interrupted before he realised he'd spoken and bad her continue.
"The way Mr Frodo is now it'll most likely hurt him... a lot. But I need ta have him on his bed and pound his back a bit" She gave a weak smile as Bilbo listened intently. "The lavender should have worked it's magic by then and my hands'll do the rest...he needs ta bring up as much muck as he can. The less inside the better he'll breath"
"I understand. Is it safe?"
"Completely, but painful for the lad"
"Has it been done before?"
"Yes sir"
But Bilbo detected the slight hesitation in her answer. "But not by you" It was not a question.
"No Sir, it hasn't. But I've been trained by the best, folk say what they will about Miss Poppy's bedside manner, but there's no denyin her quality"
Bilbo's eyes softened and he gave her a small smile, "I meant no offence Laura, if you say you can do this then I will believe you"
"I can sir, it's what I'm trained for" But she secretly wished for Poppy, her confidence had taken a beating since the babies death. It had been the first time a patient in her care had died, it had effected her more deeply than when she and Poppy had lost patients in the past.
Within twenty minutes a bath stood waiting filled with lukewarm water, about two feet deep. Bilbo carried through a very groggy, limp Frodo. Laura removed Frodo's shirt while still in his uncle's arms, he moaned, as he was shifted first one way and then the other. Laura moved round the opposite side of the tub and rolled up her sleeves as Bilbo slowly lowered Frodo.
Although the water was lukewarm, to Frodo it felt like he had been plunged naked into a snowdrift. He clung desperately to the shirt of the one that lowered him further and reared as far as his exhausted body would permit. His eyes refused to open and small pitiful sounds of pain crawled past his chattering teeth.
Bilbo managed to unpick Frodo's fingers from his weskit, surprised at their strength as a button popped under the strain, he lowered him the rest of the way down until just his face was above water. The scent of lavender rose from the bath water, the air was heavy with moisture and it wasn't long before Bilbo heard a change in Frodo's breathing pattern. It was becoming more laboured as the herbs set to work.
Laura added several other oils to the water as Frodo's lungs began to protest, just another ten minutes and it would be over. She didn't really know Frodo all that well but the handful of times their paths had crossed he had always been very kind and conscientious. The first time they met, she had been struggling to carry both her leather medical bag (which she was never caught without) and two baskets full of mushrooms, cheese, fresh fruit and vegetables It had been Frodo who had cheerfully abandoned his own business and come to her rescue. Even going so far as to take both baskets and walk her to her door, she chuckled to herself at the memory. She hadn't a clue how to repay someone of his social standing and had rather shyly offered, the then tween, an apple as a token of her thanks. But instead of rejecting it or laughing he had accepted it with glee and excused himself...something about a tailoring appointment and ran off before she could say anything more. Not even a shadow of the hobbit his relatives the Sackville-Bagginses had painted of him, but then as she knew, they were hardly ones to throw stones. Laura herself found their behaviour quite disgraceful and their son was a darn right menace!
"Laura? Laura! His breathing sounds dreadful"
Bilbo's voice brought her back sharply, she realised she had allowed her mind to wonder and cursed herself for it. "How long has he been breathing like that?"
"About ten minutes" The note of annoyance could not be concealed in Bilbo's answer.
Laura smiled and opened out one of the large fluffy towels as an unspoken signal, while Bilbo lifted Frodo's shaking body from the water. Laura moved forward and quickly wrapped him up until only his long legs and wet curls could be seen.
He had started to cough again by the time they reached his room; Bilbo dried him off thoroughly as Laura manoeuvred another nightshirt over his head. Bilbo caught her smiling and knew what she was thinking.
"I know, I know. It's just as well that I insisted on buying him as many as I did, though I don't think it was the present he wanted!" Bilbo grinned as he continued to dry Frodo's hair. "He still hasn't grasped the importance of fine cloths, prefers to go off climbing tree's and running through mud filled fields in any fabric! Satin, silk, velvet, nothing is safe..." He paused as he finished his task and discarded the towel, "...and I wouldn't want to change him for the world. Although I'm sure Fern is going to have her work cut out for her tomorrow, between the three of them I believe they've gotten through at least fifteen nightshirts in all and I'm not even going to attempt to count the linen"
Laura chuckled.
Their merriment was cut short as Frodo lurched forward in Bilbo's arms and began to cough uncontrollably.
"Poor little mite" Laura breathed as she rubbed his back while Bilbo held his head for him. Then she remembered herself and quickly continued, "It'll be over soon Mr Frodo, just this last little bit to do an then ye can sleep"
With Bilbo's help she turned Frodo onto his stomach, facing the foot of his bed and pulled him down until his head hung over the edge. Then she knelt next to him and began to rub his back quite firmly, moving her hands with practised ease between his prominent shoulder blades, then from one side of his spin to the other. All the while Bilbo squatted in front of Frodo, bowl in one hand and cloth in the other murmuring something to him in another tongue. It did seem to be easing the child's discomfort. After several minutes of doing this Laura began to lightly clop in rapid succession with both hands over one small area at a time, her hands were a blur of movement; the beautifully smooth, delicate skin beneath them began to redden. Frodo's body began to vibrate with the dull thudding sounds her hands were creating; he came back to wakefulness as the force of Laura's strikes increased.
"Aaagh! Stop! Stop it!" Frodo cried, his voice echoing the strikes, before a violent cough bubbled to the surface.
He coughed up more of the fluid from before into the waiting bowl and began to sob in misery. Laura was encouraged as he brought up more and more of the foul liquid, gagging as he did, face turning impossibly red. By the time she had finished, Frodo was almost unconscious, head limp, body unmoving, too tired to even shiver, and mouth hanging open. His back was red-raw and Bilbo wore an agonised look as he stroked his child's sweat soaked cheek. Small drops of perspiration dripped from Frodo's curls onto the back of Bilbo's hand, as he continued the calming gesture. It seemed to be doing the trick as Frodo's breathing began to return to its proper rhythm.
Laura marvelled at the strength of bond that the two cousins obviously shared, Frodo's mind might not have recognised Bilbo for the moment, but his body remembered his touch and he visibly relaxed under his Uncles gentle caresses and soothing words.
Frodo's eyes were distant and heavy lidded and he was only dimly aware that whoever had been hitting him had stopped. He wondered briefly if he had gotten into a fight, but was too exhausted to persue the thought further. He fell asleep.
***
Merry had had to be sedated next door, as the screams and groans of his cousin penetrated the adjacent, thick stonewall and reached his hearing. Both Bell and Hamfast had managed to thwart his best efforts to sneak out, he had hope that when it came time for Hamfast to leave and tend his own work and home that he would be able to take advantage then. But he had only managed to get as far as opening the door, when a very stern looking Bell ordered him back to bed. When he refused he was startled to find himself being carried back and placed in bed. Bell was stronger then she looked.
She chuckled at his expression "Ye have ta be strong ta bring six bairns inta this world Master Brandybuck"
Merry flushed and decided his hands were very interesting all of a sudden. Bell smiled as she pushed him back onto his pillow and pulled the covers up to his chest, lightly tucking him in.
"What's happening to Frodo? What are they doing to him? He sounds in pain!" Merry chewed his lip as he waited for a response.
Bell's face grew sad as she sat by Merry's bed and tried to explain things as best she could. "Master Frodo has the fever as ye know" He nodded. "Miss Goodbody is doing everythin she can for him. He's in good hands. Now don't ye go frettin none"
"But why is he screaming like that?" Merry persisted and as if in answer to his question another blood chilling scream rang out.
Bell sighed. "He don't understand what's happenin ta him. That's why Mr Bilbo won't leave him, sometimes he remembers and it's Mr Bilbo he looks for."
Large tears had silently trickled from Merry's eyes as he listened, his poor cousin.
"There, there now, don't cry Sir. He'll be well soon, you'll see"
But Merry wasn't really listening, he was just grateful that Sam was asleep and did not have to listen to Frodo's continued cry's, it would break his heart...as it was breaking his own.
*What I wouldn't give for you to be here with me now Pip, I could really do with some cheering up* He wished, then became annoyed with himself in that same moment. *Yes, that's right, wish him to be here so he can see and hear our cousin like this. Give him nightmares for the rest of his life! Selfish Brandybuck! * He rolled onto his good side and tried his hardest to sleep; anything to block out the images of what was happening to Frodo, from manifested themselves in his brain.
Bell soon became concerned as Merry missed his two evening meals, not even Sam could coax him to take a bite, and he wore a vacant expression. But it was his silence that was most disconcerting, in the end Bell briefly consulted with Laura.
Laura closely followed by Bell entered the room; Laura made a beeline for Merry. Merry had briefly fallen back to sleep, Laura took the opportunity to study the lad. He was making excellent progress yet he still wore dark smudges under his eyes and did seem a little paler than the evening before. She slowly sat on the edge of his bed and checked his temperature, normal, that was good. She was in the process of opening his mouth when he surprised awake and caught the hand trying to pry his mouth open before he could blink the sleep away.
"It's alright Mr Merry, only me" She allowed her hand to be gripped until he was awake enough to realise what he was doing and blushed, quickly withdrawing the offending hand. "Now I'm just giving ye a quick once over, it needs ta be done, so ye just lie back an it'll be over soon"
Merry only nodded and stared at the ceiling awaiting the examination to continue.
Laura frowned, this was not the reaction she had expected and it worried her a touch. She opened his mouth and had a good look round, as her other hand felt his glands and then checked his pulse. She went on to examine his eyes and test their reaction rates and asked him to follow her fingers.
"Last check sir and it's all over" She reached for the bedding and pulled it down to his waist then started to pull his nightshirt up. That got a reaction. Merry grabbed the offending material that Laura had already bunched at his waist and held if firm, while he formed a death grip with his other hand on the bedding. He glared at her unflinchingly while the two of them locked eyes. Laura pursed her lips she wanted very much to speak with Merry, alone, about this, but now was not the time. And so far the silent exchange had not attracted Bell's attention as she fused around her son. She would not embarrass the young lad, and gossip was too easily started in the Shire. 'Walls have ears' her old dad had said, and never a truer word spoken, especially in Hobbiton!
She sighed as she leaned forward to whisper in his ear. "I'm not goin ta harm ya Merry, but I need to check that rib" She paused, choosing her words carefully. "Ye know it was broke, right?" She drew back to study him.
Merry's face drained of what little colour it had and he pinched his lips, but his eyes softened and after a time he gave her a small nod. He unhooked his fingers from the bedding and shirt, and forced himself to breath normally as Laura very gently pulled back his shirt enough to expose the injury, all the time making sure her body blocked any view that Sam or Bell might have.
The soft flesh was still discoloured with a brownish yellow bruise, but on the whole it looked very good. Laura never ceased to be amazed at how quickly children healed compared to their adult counterparts. She ran her fingers over the area and easily located the slight bump, pushing lightly around it and then over it, all the time watching Merry's face as he continued to stare into nothingness. He didn't seem to be in pain, just to make sure she pushed once more over the bump. A large, lone, tear ran quickly down Merry's cheek, she had found the small chink in his armour. So it was pretence after all, he was in pain, and had managed to conceal it better than most adults, which she found disconcerting.
She retrieved a medium sized bottle containing a brownish liquid, which she pored into her hand and, with great care, worked into that whole area until his skin had completely absorbed it, leaving only a brown smudge. She pulled his shirt back down and carefully arranged his bedding back up to his chest, stroking his curls as she contemplated her patient.
The Propolis liquid would help with the rib, but he desperately needed sleep, that much was obvious and she was now positive that he was not getting much of that on his own. Reluctantly she gave permission for Bell to give him some of Sam's herbal mix.
Bell was a sharp woman and realised the source of Merry's new distress, Frodo, and upon relaying that information to Laura, the healer decided to up the dosage to six drops. She handed her another small phial and asked her to use two drops of it in his drink as well. It would insure that when he awoke he would not be able to deny his hunger. With that said and done Laura quickly hurried back to Frodo's room.
"Are you alright Mr Merry?" Sam asked at length from across the room. He had picked up on the strained atmosphere, but had waited until the adults were out of earshot before addressing the source.
No answer.
"Did I do something to upset you? If I did then I'm very sorry"
That earned him a faint smile and a slow shake of Merry's head.
Just then Bell returned with a nice piping hot meal of delicious vegetable soup, thickly laced with mushrooms for Sam and a glass of juice for Merry. She set about fluffing Sam's pillows and making sure he was comfortable before placing a spare pillow across his lap and placing the bowl in it's centre. Sam breathed in its aroma and smiled up at his mum as she beamed and kissed his brow, ruffled his golden curls.
"Eat up my lad, I done it just the way ye like it, with a little pepper an plenty o' mushrooms!"
"Thanks Ma" But as he went to take his first bit he noticed that Merry had nothing and slowly lowered his spoon and looked worriedly to Merry, he was reluctant to eat if Merry did not.
Bell frowned at her son and followed his gaze to the young Brandybuck who lay unmoved as before, hands folded behind his head, staring. In a forced cheery voice she walked over to his bedside. "Are ye sure I can't persuade ya ta at least try a little soup? I reckon ye'd like it if ya gave it a try" She coaxed.
But he just shook his head and took to staring out the window beside the head of his bed once more. Bell pursed her lips but said nothing of what she'd like to say. Instead she offered him the juice and before he could refuse it she informed him that if he wasn't going to eat then he had to at least drink, or Laura had threatened to come in and help him.
His eyes widened at the implication and with great annoyance he propped himself up on his elbows and took the glass from her. Draining it dry before handing it back to her.
"There now, that weren't so bad, was it?" She was glad to see that Sam had begun to tuck into his soup enthusiastically. "Well now I've got ta go sort out the laundry, it's wash day an I don't reckon anyone's remembered and Mrs Fern will be here in under an hour. Sam when I come back I want ta see that bowl empty, and Mr Merry, if you change yer mind I've made plenty. I'll be just down the hall if ye need anything"
And with that said she was gone, bundling up a few garments that were piled on a chair in the room (that also needed washing) as she went. When Sam was sure she was out of earshot he carefully placed the bowl on his side table, threw back his covers and padded silently over to where Merry lay. He stood still, suddenly unsure of himself. Merry turned to face him and shifted over patting the bed as he did. Sam hopped up as Merry sat up and put his back to the window.
"Please sir, tell me what's wrong. Has something happened?" Sam paled, eyes becoming impossible wide "Mr Frodo?" He croaked.
"No. No. Nothing like that Sam" Merry patted the young hobbits good arm and wondered if Sam would ever think about himself before others.
"Then what sir?" Maybe it was the sincerity in Sam's voice or the fact that Merry's defences were low, but he found himself answering Sam before he'd even had time to choose his words.
"Frodo was screaming earlier and it just reminded me of...." His eyes became like saucers as he realised what he was about to reveal. Thankfully Sam was still hung up on the 'Frodo was screaming' part to perceive the rest.
"Why was Mr Frodo screaming sir?" His voice a strangled whisper as he nervously began to chew on the sheet corner at hand.
"He still has fever Sam, your mother said he sometimes doesn't recognise people"
"He'll recognise me!" Sam stuck out his chin in defiance, puffing out his chest and made to move off the bed.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you Sam, from what I can gather he's sleeping now and he needs the rest. And no, he wouldn't recognise you..." Merry's voice hitched "...he didn't even recognise me"
Sam's ears pricked "When did you get to see him?" Then he remembered his manners and lamely added "Sir"
"That first morning, after you fell asleep, he woke up...but not really. He didn't really understand it was me standing there, he recognised Bilbo briefly, but even that was muddled." He certainly wasn't going to tell Sam about the vase business, or he may as well fill in the hole himself, for Sam would surely blame himself for that too.
Sam frowned and was about to ask another question, (the one Merry was dreading) when he felt Merry slump into his side. Their heads banged and Sam was a little too stunned to react at first. But as he felt Merry trying in vain to lift his head off of Sam's shoulder he came back to himself and quickly helped to lower the confused hobbit back onto his pillow. Merry's eyes were blinking too rapidly, as if, like his head, the lids had become too heavy to stay up.
"Sam...What's happening?" He asked as he realised he was loosing the battle. He felt strangely detached, when he spoke it sounded strange, as if it were not his voice at all.
"I don't know sir, I don't know. I'll be back before you know I'm gone, I'll get Ma!" And with that he tore off with renewed strength towards the kitchen.
"Samwise Gamgee! Just what do ye think yer doing out ta bed and runnin around Bag-End in naught but a shirt?" Shouted Bell, hands on hips as she returned from the laundry-room, but upon seeing her sons face she allowed him to pull her down the corridor and to Merry's bedside.
She sat down on the side of Merry's bed and observed the Brandybuck's struggles. His face wore a determined look, jaw clenched in concentration, as his eyes fluttered continuously like butterflies; he was plainly fighting the effects of the herbs. Bell sighed and asked Sam to get back into his bed and that she would explain everything to him in a minute. He hesitated for a moment, but was comforted by his mother's lack of concern and complied.
Merry's nostrils flared and his hands clenched the bed sheets, turning the knuckles white with the effort to fight whatever was effecting him so, but Bells finger's combed through his hair repeatedly as she pulled the covers back into place and told him not to fight it. She lightly stroked her thumb over his eyebrow, as she had observed his uncle do several nights ago when he had been having a bad dream, pleased that it's calming effect on him was not limited to only his uncles touch. He was still fighting even when his lids finally won and came to rest upon his cheekbones. Just before he lost altogether, understanding dawned on him. He had been drugged, the juice! It must have been the same one that they were giving to Sam, he felt anger rise in him, but it died as he sank into blissful nothingness.
Bell continued to stroke through Merry's curls. As she watched him grow still, she reached over and pulled the heavy drape across, shutting out the night's sky. When she turned back, his breathing had grown deep and steady and his face finally looked peaceful.
It had only been three days since the accident and their colds had almost cleared up, Bell mused. Aside from the odd sniffle that dogged Sam at nighttimes and Merry's continued weakness in his legs. Bell instructed her son to finish his food and took the opportunity to explain what had happened to Merry. Sam listened in silence, as he finished his soup and gladly gulped down the rest of his juice; a sudden thought occurred to him as his mother lightly bathed his wrist.
"Ma?"
"Yes Love?"
He yawned twice before he could continue and absentmindedly rubbed at his eyes. "You wouldn't do that ta me would you?"
"What's that dear?" Bell feigned ignorance as she carefully dried his wrist and began to lightly rub some salve over it.
As Bell finished the binding another wave of yawns assailed Sam and he found his mother gently coaxing him back into the deliciously soft feather pillow. He rubbed his itchy nose as she tucked him in, "You wouldn't give me anythin like Mr Merry, would you Ma?"
"You look tired dear, get some rest" He smiled sleepily up at her as she leaned over him and planted a kiss on his brow, stroked his cheek until he drifted off.
She shook her head at her son's unquestionable innocence and tutted herself *Laura's a bad influence on me, that she is! *
Tbc ~