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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 lead to disaster?
NOTES: Hello everyone! I must first apologise for the long delay in this chapter. As a few of you know I am in the late process of moving from Britain to Ireland and things are a little mad at the mo. In three weeks or less I'll be on the move and this mayhem that is my life has meant that my writing has taken a bit of a backseat recently. Not to worry! I have been working on my next fic, which is the long awaited Merry follow-up. "Silence" will be with you shortly.
STORY WATCH: There are so many brilliant stories that have popped up not to mention updates of my fav's that I shall just have to list them I'm afraid. But they are all well worth a read and are of stunning quality!!!
Llinos has updated 'Recaptured' several times and it's good, real good. Infact: 'YOU HAVE TO READ IT TO BELIEVE IT!'
Rachelstonebreaker has updated and completed her stunning 'The Pub Series - Story 1 - Politics' such depth!
LilyBaggins has created some new delights in 'Mathom' and updated 'The Pine- Woods Excursion'.
Frisky has updated her series 'Hopeless Life' a number of times.
Melodysongsinger has added another chapter to 'Only the Very Best'.
Xenobia has completed her truly BRILLIANT series: 'For the Love of a Took' and 'Cloudburst'.
Baylor has produced another truly stunning piece; it's a direct follow-on from 'Handkerchiefs and Mushroom Soup' and is called 'I Always Know You'. It is breathtaking!
Rufferto has updated the wonderful 'SILENT DESIRES' and for all those out there who haven't read it yet. Why?
Baranduin has created a truly addictive piece of writing in 'A Ranger's Desire--To Protect'. Definitely one for all those Frodo lovers out there.
Claudia has produced a piece of work that is so good...well. Any of you remember 'that' scene from "Harry met Sally"? It's THAT good! 'Trapped in Bree'.
BellaMonte has produced a beautiful Shire based tale of the highest quality. I'm well and truly hooked and I guarantee that if you love the hobbit younger years, you will be too. 'Treasures'.
Lobelia Sackville-Baggins, has created 'Rain' over at 'Nindaiwe' and it is really, really good!
Kookaburra has created one of the best pieces of...well hell it's got everything in it. (NC-17) But I do recommend it as a great read if you enjoy your fic's dark 'Moria's Revenge' (Co- author Llinos).
Mea has created 'The Conspiracy', which I personally have spent most of the morning drooling over again. It's another hobbit fic, and a damn good one!
Neon Star has written a shire tale: 'A Piece of My Heart' is centred on Frodo and Sam.
Talisha Hibdon has created a NOVEL based on the Frodo returns theme. This is really something special and I advise all to read. It is hard, gritty and grounded and poor Frodo's having a hard time fitting back into shire life. 'Dream With Hope' can be found at: Of_Rings_and_Hobbits@yahoogroups.com (numbers you need to type to bring up each chapter are as follow:
Chap 1: 102 Chap 2: 118 Chap 3: 128 Chap 4: 137 Chap 5: 211 Chap 6: 217 Chap 7: 261 Chap 8: 296 Chap 9: 402 Chap 10: 543
Hope has written another beautiful stand on it's own piece called: 'A Familiar Song'.
And I think I'll have to put my other recommendations on the next posting!
Brandywine
Chapter 16: Walkabouts
"It's not true!"
Bilbo awoke from the light exhaustive sleep he had unwittingly fallen into. He turned blurry eyes to the pale, glistening form on the bed and waited until his vision cleared. After several tense moments of observing his young nephew's face he sighed. It must have been his imagination playing a cruel trick on him.
In Frodo's fevered mind he found himself assailed by harsh words and half- truths from some of the less friendly inhabitants of Hobbiton.
*Baggins is his name, but he's more than half a Brandybuck! *
Frodo whimpered. "I don't under-understand. What's so wrong with being Bran- Brandybuck?"
At this Bilbo sat bolt upright and scanned Frodo's face for any sign that he might be waking. No. As he pressed the back of his hand to his brow it revealed the fever still raged. Laura had warned it would be so for a day or two to come. Yet it was still disappointing.
Ted Sandyman's gruff, sarcastic voice intoned. *I heard she pushed him in, and he pulled her in after*
"You're lying!" Frodo shouted.
Bilbo winced. Bag End was silent and Frodo's voice was surprisingly shrill. He recovered the compress from the bedside and dampened it in a fresh bowl of cool water. Brushing back some of the lank curls, he placed the cloth on Frodo's brow and was relieved to see him lean into his uncle's hand.
Frodo's face looked troubled. Bilbo had an idea of what he spoke. It was common knowledge that Lobelia was outraged when Bilbo brought Frodo to live with him at Bag End. She had wasted no time in putting a slur on Frodo's good character at every opportunity. Thankfully most folk of Hobbiton were of a sensible breed, and knew enough of the Sackville-Bagginses to know gossip from their quarter was more than likely tainted. But there would always be the odd few, and Bilbo had heard such muck with his own ears often enough to know that at some point it would, unfortunately, reach Frodo.
"Frodo?" Bilbo kept his voice low and warm. He had an idea that just might work if Frodo was receptive enough.
"Frodo my boy. Can you hear me?"
Frodo's brow furrowed and he gave a soft moan.
"Answer me!" Bilbo insisted, putting a little more authority into his tone.
"Uncle?" Frodo whispered.
Bilbo grinned so hard his face ached; that one word he had taken for granted and was so dearly missed made his heart soar. He leant forward and grasped the young hobbit's soft, clammy hand and patted it reassuringly.
"Tell me what they're saying."
Frodo's face contorted with the effort of the request and it soon became obvious that he either couldn't understand or didn't want to answer. Bilbo suspected a little of both. But he was not about to give up just yet, he knew Frodo would probably be aghast when he discovered how his uncle had come by this information, but he would deal with that bridge when it needed crossing. Right now he was the adult and he would not pass up such an opportunity.
"What are they saying to you? Repeat it to me, if you can."
Bilbo was convinced Frodo had drifted back off to sleep when Frodo's abused voice began to brokenly relay information. It flowed freely, although, somewhat jumbled in places as his mind jumped from memory to memory in no particular order. But it was clear enough.
As the boy continued his anguished ramblings Bilbo was appalled to discover that Lobelia herself had taken great pleasure in confronting Frodo on a number of occasions. Each encounter had added more silent scarring to the already damaged child, yet not once had he mentioned any of these confrontations to Bilbo.
He was furious with Lobelia and strove to understand why Frodo would keep this sort of thing to himself. He had always known that Frodo liked to handle his own problems and for that Bilbo held great respect. But there was only so much that a tween (well barely a tween at that) could endure against the kind of torrent that was being relayed to him at that moment.
And the language used! He knew that Lobelia had a foul mouth at times but that these words were directed at his beloved young cousin was too much. Frodo should never have even heard them let alone have them directed at him. But that was not the end of it. Frodo went on to speak of his parents and what he had overheard at The Ivy Bush one evening when his friend Fatty had dragged him along (Frodo and Fatty are old enough by hobbit standards to frequent pubs if they so choose). To hear one's parents spoken of that way and under those circumstances was truly awful.
Guilt seeped into Bilbo's thoughts as, thankfully, Frodo grew silent and stilled, falling back into sleep as best the fever would allow. He had no idea that Frodo was enduring so much pain just by being his heir and living in Hobbiton.
*Was I selfish to bring him here after all this time? Would it have been kinder to leave things as they were, where he was somewhat settled?*
He banished all such thoughts in the next instance when he remembered how overlooked the young boy was there. By the Shire, it had taken six hours before anyone had noticed that he had not attended dinner the last time he had visited at Brandy Hall. It wasn't that his relations were cruel, although there were one or two who positively hated children and made it known. No, it was just that there were so many children living in the Halls that to keep track of them all was nigh on impossible. Frodo was simply swept away in the crowd.
However in the short space of time that Frodo had been living in Hobbiton, his education and language skills had improved tenfold. He was always one for books; Bilbo discovered and fed that part of Frodo that hungered for knowledge of history, language and mythology, which would otherwise have been neglected. His grasp of Elvish was impressive for one so young and Bilbo was careful not to push him too hard, allowing him to find his own pace.
A dreamy sigh from the bed brought Bilbo back to the present. On Frodo's face a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. It had not been seen in days and brought great relief to Bilbo as he continued to stroke his nephew's slender, delicate hand. It always amused Bilbo that locked behind that sweet face was knowledge far beyond his years, yet he was never outspoken. Only on request (usually from Sam or Merry) would he tell a tale of old or speak Elvish. He himself had caught Sam reciting Elvish in the garden on more than one occasion when he thought no one was in earshot. Bilbo had no doubts as to who his teacher was.
He chuckled. Sam and Frodo were as close as two friends could be, and for that Bilbo was grateful. They had managed to do what most others could not. Look past their very different social standings as they grew and became more aware of their place. Sam ensured that Frodo attended at least a handful of the social events in the Shire that Frodo would normally shy away from. They were good together, they had a very strong bond that Bilbo had never had with anyone himself. He didn't understand it, but accepted it all the same.
Tomorrow, if Frodo was a little more rested he would bring Sam and Merry to see him. It would do the three of them good; Bilbo had been keeping informed of Merry and Sam's progress via Laura. Yes, tomorrow he should be well enough to receive visitors.
****
On the fifth morning of Bilbo's vigil at Frodo's bedside, Frodo woke up. It was a little after two in the morning. Several candles had been placed on the mantelpiece opposite the foot of his bed, and their soft flickering glow was enough to dimly illuminate his room.
"Aawwwww! My head!" He moaned softly as he slowly pulled himself into a sitting position, using his headboard for added support. Gasping in shock at the harsh sound of his own voice. Its usual harmonic light tones were hidden now beneath layers of rumbling thunder and burning fire. He soon realised to speak was very painful and made a mental note to avoid doing so for the time being.
A wave of weakness washed through his body at that moment, forcing him to freeze, slightly hunched over with his head pressed into his hands until it passed. He expelled the breath he was holding and allowed his hands to slide through his hair, grimacing at its damp, oily texture. His face felt hot, even to him, and he knew that he must have been quite ill judging by the number of assorted phials he could see on his bedside table, not to mention the heavy scent of lavender that seemed to be not only in the air but rising from his chest as well.
Frodo froze as he felt a movement and heard a soft snore reach his ears. Looking down to his right he couldn't help but smile fondly as he recognised the mad tangle of coarse greying curls. Bilbo was sound asleep, head pillowed on his folded arms, satin shirt crumpled to the extreme, no weskit and braces dangling carelessly at his sides. Frodo frowned as he observed even in the poor light his uncle's haggard appearance. He reached over and with more effort than the gesture should have taken, retrieved one of the soft blankets that had been piled on his left set of bookshelves. He draped it as best he could around his uncle's shoulders before lightly kissing him on the brow.
He had no idea why his body ached as badly as it did, his legs felt tight- skinned, achy and unstable. His chest felt heavier than it aught, but despite everything else, one urge seized him above all his other discomforts... he needed to use the bathroom. Now!
As silently as he could, he slipped from the bed and placed both feet firmly on the floor. It felt cold and soothing as the slate quickly drew the warmth from the pads of his feet. It was wonderfully refreshing and gave Frodo the confidence he needed to push away from the bed. He stood, swaying from side-to-side until his sense of balance returned and his blood had time get used to his upright position after his extended bed rest.
Using the furniture in the room for additional support he shakily made his way across his shadowed room and out into the darker corridor. Stumbling a few times before his eyes adjusted to the new darkness and finally made it to the bathroom.
Having to sit on the toilet instead of standing was both embarrassing and annoying to Frodo but as he finished and silently closed the door behind him his stomach grumbled loudly. Now that his attention had been drawn to it, he found that he was rather hungry. No. He was starving hungry and before he knew that he was moving again he found his feet taking him to the kitchen.
*****
Something wasn't right. Rising through the depths of much needed sleep Bilbo Baggins awoke with an inexplicable feeling of unease. He sighed loudly and rubbed his face in his hands in an effort to wake fully. His neck cracked as a reminded to him that despite being graced with the good, long lived blood of his ancestors, he was definitely too old to be sleeping in chairs, especially in that position. He rubbed his neck purposefully and stretched the kink from his spine before checking on his nephew.
When Bilbo's eyes fell on the empty bed his blood chilled and any remnants of sleep fell away abruptly. He shot to his feet and patted the bedding where Frodo should be, not believing his eyes.
"Frodo?" He whispered in disbelief as he broke into a cold sweat.
No answer.
"Frodo!" He searched all round the bed in case, in his fevered dreams the poor lad had slipped from the bed. But there was no sign of him, nor was he to be found anywhere else in the room. Now on the edge of full-blown panic Bilbo raced into the corridor pausing only long enough to snatch up a candle and continue his search. It wasn't very long before his attention was drawn to the kitchen. Small muffled noises reached his ears, as if someone was trying to lift something extremely heavy. Eyes focused only on the archway to the kitchen he moved swiftly observing that indeed someone was up and about as the soft glow of several lit lanterns spilled into the corridor's end.
What met his eyes as he entered the kitchen almost made him weep. There, dressed in only a long, thin cotton nightshirt and grunting softly under the supreme effort of trying to hook the now water filled kettle back in place, stood Frodo.
He didn't notice his uncle enter the kitchen he was so wrapped up in his effort to make himself some tea that nothing else seemed to exist anymore, except the object of his futile efforts. *This is madness, it should not be this heavy! *
"Come on damn you!" He cursed in frustration, even as he resigned himself to the fact that he was not going to get the cup of tea he so desperately craved.
He allowed the kettle to clatter back to the stoves surface and rest there while he wiped some of the newly formed sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his shirt, blowing the maddening curls from his eyes a second later.
"Frodo?"
He startled badly, almost loosing his footing as he spun in the direction of the voice. There in the shadowed archway stood his Uncle and before Frodo could respond, his Uncle had closed the distance between them with frightening speed and gathered him up in a strong embrace.
Frodo giggled in surprise as he felt himself lifted completely off the floor as Bilbo heaved the tweenager up so that he now sat completely on Bilbo's arm, his other hand locked around Frodo's head pressing it into his shoulder as he murmured words that Frodo couldn't catch.
It had been so many years since someone had held him thus. Another person, another life, he had forgotten just how much he needed it and how good it felt. It was only after the fierce embrace ended that Frodo saw tears glisten on Bilbo's cheeks as he guided himself and Frodo onto one of the kitchen chairs, Frodo sitting across his lap as if he were twelve once more.
Frodo soon picked up on the fact that Bilbo seemed reluctant to let him go and so settled into his lap allowing the comforting, protective feel of Bilbo's arms around his slender body to wash over him. He reached up and brushed away new tears that were making their way down his uncle's face.
Smiling he said, in as clear a voice as he could muster. "It's all right Uncle, I'm here." But to his dismay this seemed to make the flow worsen as Bilbo fumbled one-handedly searching for his elusive handkerchief.
"Bilbo. What's wrong?"
Bilbo laughed then, it sounded strange as if it were not entirely happy. Scared maybe? Frodo didn't have long to ponder it as Bilbo composed himself enough to finally speak.
"Nothing. Nothing's wrong now that you're awake my boy," and hugged him again to reassure himself that this was not some cruel dream. Satisfied eventually that it was not, he sat back and looked Frodo over carefully, he was still flushed and too warm to the touch. His face took on a sterner expression as worry clouded his joy. "Now just what do you think you are doing out of bed? Huuum?"
Frodo grinned sheepishly and nodded towards the kettle. He was still trying to keep his speaking to a minimum, but the pain was worth it to see the twinkle return to Bilbo's eyes. "I needed to use the bathroom and..." He paused despite his best efforts and sucked in as much air as his aching chest and burning throat would allow without coughing. "...I got hungry and thirsty," he finished.
Bilbo frowned at the effort it took Frodo to speak and then remembered how hard he had found it to lift the kettle, a nothing weight. It spoke volumes to the old hobbit. His worried gaze softened as he stared into those beautiful, loving, clear blue eyes and melted.
"All right lad, no harm done. But you should have woken me and I would have prepared something for you, and there is a bedpan in your room. It's not there for decoration!" he joked, as Frodo turned red and looked away. "Come on now, there's no need for that. I understand using such a thing is a little embarrassing...but we have all been that ill at some point in our lives that they become necessary. I will not have you exhausting yourself like this just to save your dignity or pride. You know what they say happens to those who have too much pride?"
"Yes Uncle. I'm sorry...I didn't, I still don't..." his voice was starting to crack again and swallowing alone was not enough to calm it.
"Understand?" Bilbo offered, feeling awful for scolding him.
Bilbo sighed and gently transferred him to the chair then scuttled out of the room, returning moments later with a night robe and a quilted blanket. As Frodo sat back more comfortably in the chair, now dressed in the robe and wrapped in the soft quilt, he listened as Bilbo filled him in on the missing days whilst he set about boiling water and reheating some of Mrs Gamgee's Broth.
"What is the last thing you remember?" he asked as he poured boiling water into the teapot, careful not to swamp the thin metal leaf strainer. He then proceeded to pour two cups of tea, one with cream and sugar and one with a small amount of milk only. He set the darker brew in front of Frodo and then went to check on the broth.
Frodo furrowed his brow in concentration, finding it nice to be able to think again. It seemed as if it had been a long time since things had been this clear. "I remember apple picking... rain." His memories were more elusive after that. "...I remember water and being very cold." Suddenly a vision of his beloved mother came flooding back to him and his promise to her.
"Frodo-lad don't take on so!" Bilbo's panicked voice penetrated the haze and he realised that he was breathing too fast and that it had been a long time since he had last spoken. He blinked to discover his Uncle kneeling before him; an anxious look upon his face and the back of his hand lay against Frodo's brow.
Frodo forced a small smile and pushed Bilbo's hand away. "I'm all right Uncle" but the effect was spoilt as a rattling cough cut his speech short.
Bilbo rubbed his back in firm circles; mindful of the tender areas and together they rode out the fit. When Frodo had settled enough, Bilbo scooted back a touch and ran his critical eye over him. Frodo squirmed under his gaze as Bilbo's eyes moved deliberately slowly, taking in and processing every detail. The flushed face, more so now after the coughing, the permanent sheen of sweat across his brow and upper lip, and the way his hands shook slightly in his lap.
"You're not all right, of that much I am certain" He pushed the bowl of broth towards Frodo and instructed him to eat as much as he could. To the old hobbit's complete surprise Frodo not only finished that bowl of broth, but also a second as well as a small glass of cold orange juice and three cups of tea. With a satisfied sigh followed by a huge jaw-cracking yawn Frodo pushed the empty bowl away and leaned back in the chair allowing his eyes to rest momentarily.
Bilbo chuckled as he watched his nephew struggle to stay awake. He was so pleased that Frodo's appetite had returned and that he had been able to keep the food down (which he had fretted over as Frodo demolished the second helping). He grinned as Frodo lost the battle and a soft buzzing sound signalled his defeat. Gently, ever so gently he carried him back to his room and unwrapping him, placing him back in bed and tucked him in. As he settled himself back into his chair he noted the soft snore had ceased and a light smile formed on Frodo's lips.
"Uncle?" He whispered.
"Yes lad, is there anything you want?"
"No... I have everything I need." His smile broadened and Bilbo could hear a laugh to his broken tones as Frodo's hand sought his and clasped it firmly.
"Uncle?" He asked, but his voice was becoming distant as sleep pulled at him.
"Yes?"
"I love you" Frodo was asleep before he could hear the reply, the smile never completely leaving his mouth.
Bilbo looked down upon this child that was so dear to him and felt fit to burst with the number of emotions that he couldn't distinguish inside himself. He contented himself with stroking the back of Frodo's hand with a snippet of satin and grinned at the deep sigh it produced.
Frodo would be well, of that he was now certain. He had been given the greatest honour in life he could have hoped for; he was bringing up one of the strongest and gentlest souls in the entire Shire. And he blessed Primula and Drogo for their gift, for of all their many hundreds of relations, Bilbo was their first choice of guardian. A kindness and trust he would never be able to repay, but he would see that Frodo never wanted for anything again.
****
Merry awoke the next morning to a raging hunger that he could not explain, nor could he remember sleeping so soundly for a long time. He didn't remember his dreams, but that was not a bad thing, at least they weren't nightmares. He groggily pulled himself up and was rewarded with the beaming face of Mrs Gamgee walking briskly towards him carrying a tray of cooked food. She placed it on the side and helped him to readjust the pillows behind his back before wishing him a cheery 'Good morning'.
He scratched at the sleep dust still in his eyes and smiled up at her wishing her the same as she sat the full breakfast tray in his lap and with a wink informed him that if there was anything else he wanted just ask, and there was plenty more where that came from.
He tucked in ravenously and only after clearing two thirds of his dish did he look over to see Sam awake and reading one of Frodo's books... something Elvish, translated into the common tongue by the looks of it.
Sam felt the weight of Merry's eyes on him and looked up, grinning he closed the book and looked to the door before sliding from the bed and perching on the side of Merry's. It was only then that Merry realised Sam was fully dressed: in a plain cream cotton homemade shirt and deep brown woollen breeches. He could see evidence of mending at the knees but politely pulled his gaze back to Sam's face; too late it seemed to avoid being caught however. Something flickered across Sam's deep hazel browns and his smile faltered for a second before it was washed away and Merry was left to wonder if he had seen it at all.
"Good morning Mr Merry!" He chirped, literally bouncing on the spot. "How are you feelin' today?"
Merry found Sam's good nature infectious for he found himself smiling before be realised it. "Very well thank you, Sam. What's going on? You seem fit to burst! Oh please don't bounce so, unless you want to see this breakfast of mine again," he laughed.
Sam immediately stilled and apologised even as Merry waved off its necessity. "Well I've got good reason sir. Mr Bilbo came in earlier this morn and told me that Mr Frodo woke up last night!"
He watched as Merry smiled, but there was sadness in his eyes at the mention of his cousin. He quickly thought back over what he had just said to try and understand Merry's reaction to such good news and then remembered being told about Frodo's waking confusion. "Oh no! Not like that Sir! I mean awake, awake!" He grinned as Merry's face brightened and he sat up straighter.
"Was he all right? Did he say anything? Tell me!" He bubbled.
Sam chuckled as he recalled Bilbo's fond mutterings about 'that boy' and the kitchen incident. "Oh aye, he's done more than talking. Mr Bilbo caught him in the kitchen making tea would you believe!"
Merry's face warred between shock and amusement before he burst into uncontrollable laughter and tears rolled down his cheeks as Sam joined him. "He did what? Oh that's precious, I bet Uncle nearly had kittens!"
Sam nodded as he wiped away a tear. "The best part's not been said yet! Later when you're dressed an' all we're both allowed to see him." He paused with a frown before continuing "But I think he's asleep right now, he's still got a bit of a fever but nothing like before. Miss Goodbody's been humming tunes all morning she's so pleased and Ma said that he even managed some more food earlier and was laughing and joking with her when she came in to help change the linens."
"Oh Sam that is wonderful news. I can hardly wait to see him," then in a slightly quieter voice added, "I've missed him terribly".
"Well as my Sam said he's sleepin' right now Mr Merry so I'm afraid ye'll have ta wait a little longer." Bell Gamgee laughed as the two youngsters startled. Her eyes sparkled as she observed Merry was still unconsciously picking at the remainder of his food. "Awww now none a' that, he needs his rest an' ye still need ta have yer bath and get dressed yet Sir."
Merry scrunched up his face at the mention of yet another bath. He was never an unhygienic hobbit but this was getting a bit much, every morning and evening, still at least he no longer had to have Hamfast accompany him.
His legs had lost their ache and regained their earlier strength, but he did still feel very drained and it must have finally caught up with him he mused, to fall asleep like that. One minute he had been talking with Sam and the next, it was morning. How embarrassing, he wondered if Sam thought him terribly rude for falling asleep in the middle of a conversation, but brushed it off and instead opted to devour his cooling breakfast as fast as possible and have his bath. The sooner he was in, the sooner he could get out he reasoned.
****
"Shuuuu!"
"Shush yourself"
"Well meaning no disrespect but..."
"Saaaam!"
"...not supposed to be in..."
Frodo awoke to the sounds of a hushed argument in full swing between his dear cousin and...and Sam? It surprised him no end to hear Sam politely give as good as he got from his quick-tongued cousin. But then, Frodo realised that where he or his uncle were concerned Sam had never been shy about defending either of them. It warmed his heart and he allowed himself a small smile as he heard the air whistle angrily through Sam's front teeth, a sure sign that he was trying his hardest not to loose his temper. A rare occurrence but not unknown to Frodo.
He ventured a quick peek as he heard the scrapping of a chair followed by Sam's light-footed approach, scolding Merry for dragging said chair instead of lifting it. From his prone position he opened one eye enough to see a very red-faced Sam eyeing his cousin and shaking his head as Merry tried to lift the old rocker into a position next to the bed. When Sam sighed and turned back to Frodo, Frodo had already closed his eye and lay still.
"Oh botheration!"
"What's the matter?"
"Nothing, nothing. I need to use the bathroom; I'll be back in a minute. Whatever you do, don't let Uncle or Miss Goodbody catch you in here," and with that said he quickly retreated from the room.
"It's me Ma I'd be worried about if I were you Sir," he whispered to the empty doorway allowing himself a small chuckle at the image.
Sam soon turned his attention back to his master. He did look a lot better than the last time he'd been able to see him, almost a week ago now. He had missed his dear face terribly and was glad to see him at peace and breathing much more easily.
"Well Sir you didn't half give your Sam a scare!" He chided "But at least you don't seem in pain anymore" He looked to the empty doorway making sure he was alone before he reached out and allowed his hand to trail gently in Frodo's damp curls, marvelling that even after such sickness they still slid through his fingers with ease. He brushed the dark locks back and lightly traced the curve of Frodo's perfectly formed pointy ear and down to his smooth jaw where he allowed his hand to rest gently in revelry at that which he feared he had lost.
He felt a small shudder pass through Frodo and quickly withdrew his hand lest his master wake to discover his gardener pawing at him in a most inappropriate manner. "I'm so sorry. It's my stupid, clumsy fault you got hurt, if I'd been more mindful of were I was treading then you and Mr Merry wouldn't have got hurt." He scrunched his eyes tightly shut and laced his strong calloused hand in Frodo's. "I'm sorry," he whispered.
Frodo who was still reeling from Sam's golden touch, which made his whole body respond wantonly, could stand the pretence no longer. Sam's self loathing was breaking his heart as he felt the unmistakable wetness of tears against his held hand. He opened his eyes to see Sam quickly dab their evidence away with his handkerchief and continue to stare at the hand he held.
"Sam!"
That one word held so much emotion and was barely above a whisper so choked was Frodo with his own emotions that he was unsure whether he had spoken it or only thought it. He closed his eyes and waited out the maelstrom that threatened to overwhelm him. When he felt the warning, prickly at the back of his eyes, dissipate only then did he allow himself a second view of his distraught friend.
Sam was sat in absolute silence, startled ridged and open-mouthed as if he'd just broken a second vase and wasn't sure what to do about it. His mouth worked but no sound was made and he clutched Frodo's hand a little more tightly, almost desperately.
Frodo smiled up at him and gave his hand a squeeze back. "Hello Sam, I've missed you."
It was too much for the younger hobbit who burst into silent sobs as Frodo rose to a sitting position and drew him in for a warm embrace. This was the second person that had cried on him in less than a day! Frodo rocked him gently and soothed him until he felt the tremors stop and his death grip loosen. When he pulled back Sam was red-faced and apologetic, trying desperately to straighten his clothes and not look Frodo in the eye.
Frodo raised his chin so that Sam was forced to look at him. Sam's gaze locked on Frodo's and he gave an audible gasp as he realised that Frodo had unshed tears pooled in his own eyes but a gentle smile played on his lips.
"There is nothing! And I repeat nothing! Any of us could have or would have done differently that day, Samwise. None of it was anyone's fault, least of all yours and there is nothing to be sorry for. Understand?" Despite the slight gruffness that still hampered his voice he tried to make it as steady as possible to get the message across.
Sam was silent, allowing Frodo's word to sink in and not allow himself to be distracted by the flutter in his stomach as Frodo's eyes revealed his love and concern for the young gardener in his grasp. The moment was broken as Sam heard Merry moving towards the door with what he claimed was a light foot. *Light foot indeed* he mused and pulled reluctantly out of Frodo's grasp still holding his gaze. He smiled then and gave a small nod.
"Thank you Sir, that means a lot to me." He wanted to say more, but it was not his place and despite what he thought he saw in Frodo's eyes he was still unsure and for all of Middle-earth he would do nothing to make Frodo unhappy. His master, he decided, should always be happy and he vowed he would do everything within his power to ensure that happened.
Frodo watched Sam's face as he slipped from his grasp and allowed his arm to fall back to the bedcovers. It seemed as if a heavy weight had been lifted from Sam's broad shoulders but to Frodo's dismay his eyes remained closed. He took the chance that his instincts were right "As you mean to me, Sam," he whispered.
It was loud enough to reach Sam's sharp ears and he grinned foolishly and looked about ready to say something when an excited squeal from across the room broke the spell and alerted the pair of Merry's arrival.
"Cousin! You're awake! But it's been so long I'd almost forgotten what you looked like." He joked as he took his place the opposite side of the bed and gave Sam a knowing look. The gardener flushed crimson and began to fuss over Frodo's bedding, checking that he had enough liquids in reach should he need them.
Frodo hugged his young cousin and as he observed Sam's flustered doings, guessed the reason and gave Merry a swat to the rump as the embrace broke. Silently scolding him with a glare and telling Sam to relax as for the first time he observed Sam's bandaged wrist now held tight against his chest as he poured water from the pitcher and set the glass down closer to Frodo.
"And just what do ye think yer about Samwise Gamgee!" Bell's voice boomed as she stood, hands on hips blocking the doorway. "I turn my back just long enough ta make second breakfast and yer gone! And don't think I haven't seen ye there either Mr Merry."
Bell scowled at her son's blatant disobedience and then turned her gaze to the real culprit. Sweet darling that he was she had to remind herself that he was still a Brandybuck!
Merry gave her his most innocent face and unconsciously moved closer to his cousin who couldn't help a snigger at his cousin's reaction. Just what had been going on while he was ill? Much he was sure.
"It's all right Mrs Gamgee I was awake anyway and I could use the company."
"Well. If ye say so Sir, but it's time for yer medicine and Miss Goodbody will be along shortly to massage ye again."
"Massage?" Merry and Sam chorused staring at him wide-eyed.
Frodo blushed as he quickly drank down the vile concoction Bell handed him and groaned loudly. "That's no massage, its torture!" He whinged. "Surely there is another way?" he pleaded.
Laura entered Frodo's room and was surprised to find it full of hobbits when she had left specific instruction that the young master needed his rest. "No Mr Frodo there isn't," she chuckled as Frodo unconsciously retreated closer to Sam who stood and stared at her, allowing Frodo to lean into him.
"Now, now Sir, it's not for much longer, another three days at the most and I'll not have ta bother ye that way again."
"Three days!"
Laura set down the necessary oils and the dreaded bowl before turning stern eyes on him. "Now none of that! I don't think anyone's told ye yet but I'm tellin' ye now, you very near passed two nights ago and if I don't do this ye wont recover."
"Laura!" Bell cried in dismay as she saw Merry's face drain of colour and Sam's chin tremble.
Sam, despite his mother's disapproving glare clutched Frodo to himself more securely, but Frodo just stared at her blankly. He thought of his mother and his promise to her again. He looked to the shocked and fearful face of his cousin and felt the tension sing through Sam as his arm tightened around him. Then he remembered his Uncle's fierce embrace when he found him in the kitchen *Poor Uncle Bilbo, how terrible this has all been for you.*
He smiled at her and allowed himself to relax back against the headboard and touched his hand to Merry's shoulder. Merry startled and turned impossibly wide eyes on him, genuine fear swam in their grey depths but the rest of his face remained a blank canvas.
*I wonder who taught him that?* He mused; it was unlike Merry to show such restraint especially in front of Frodo.
"I'll be all right Merry there's nothing to fear. It takes more than this illness to get rid of me!" He winked at him glad to see Merry relax a little, then turned to Sam, who was as rattled as Merry. "You're both stuck with me I'm afraid."
The tension dissolved slowly and Frodo asked Sam and Merry to leave promising he would speak with them again later. Laura wasn't so sure about the 'later' part, knowing how draining this procedure was on Frodo but she remained silent. When they had left and only Laura and Mrs Gamgee remained Frodo turned to Laura, he seemed to be quietly seething. She winced as his large, sparkling blue eyes held hers; he opened his mouth and then closed it. It took three attempts before he was able to speak without anger.
"Miss Goodbody. I owe you, amongst others, my life...for which I am very grateful. But please do not speak of such things again in front of my 'young' cousin and Samwise, they have been through quite enough already."
Laura realised that in allowing her own anger and exhaustion to get the better of her she had spoken out of turn. Though to be berated by a child barely into his tween's was highly embarrassing. Looking back on it now she realised that her outburst had been quite unnecessary. Bell was moving stiffly in the corner of the room; obviously uncomfortable and trying her hardest to do her job and leave.
"You're right, Sir" She said at length, "I'm sorry I was short with ye, it's just...ye had us all so worried an' I don't think I could face yer Uncle if I let anything happen to ye. Especially after such good progress." She stood stock-still waiting for the torrent to flow and was surprised when Frodo broke into a smile.
"Apology accepted." He frowned as she came closer and he noticed the dark smudges under her eyes. He cleared his throat and waited patiently until Bell left with an arm full of laundry before voicing his thought "You need to get some sleep Miss Goodbo..."
"Laura," she interrupted.
"Laura then. You need sleep."
She laughed, "I look that bad do I?"
Frodo averted his eyes causing her to laugh harder. "It's just...I don't want you to make yourself ill on my account," he murmured.
"Hey now! Who's the healer?"
"Who's the patient?" He countered, before they both laughed hard until Frodo began to cough.
Laura held his chest and rubbed his back until the racking cough left "Point taken Mr Frodo, now I'm afraid it's time, and no more of yer stallin'!"
He groaned before allowing her to position him on his front over the end of the bed. Before she could begin he turned to her and said, "I wasn't just trying to stall you though, I meant what I said." Then grinned, "well maybe I was trying to delay you a little."
She motioned for him to turn back round, marvelling at his manners, in spite of still having a slight fever. "Thank you Sir, it was nice of ye to care. Now I'm afraid this is going to hurt a bit, but as I said before it must be done."
"I understand," He whispered. "Where is Uncle?"
"He's asleep next-door. Do ye want me ta fetch him?"
"No! No, it's not important. He needs a rest...I have never seen him look so old as he did last night."
"Worry over a loved one will do that ta anyone sir, don't ye go frettin'. He'll bounce back I'm sure."
With that said the torture commenced.
Tbc~
A huge "Thank you!" to Llinos *Big hug* you was kind enough to beta this chapter for me.
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 lead to disaster?
NOTES: Hello everyone! I must first apologise for the long delay in this chapter. As a few of you know I am in the late process of moving from Britain to Ireland and things are a little mad at the mo. In three weeks or less I'll be on the move and this mayhem that is my life has meant that my writing has taken a bit of a backseat recently. Not to worry! I have been working on my next fic, which is the long awaited Merry follow-up. "Silence" will be with you shortly.
STORY WATCH: There are so many brilliant stories that have popped up not to mention updates of my fav's that I shall just have to list them I'm afraid. But they are all well worth a read and are of stunning quality!!!
Llinos has updated 'Recaptured' several times and it's good, real good. Infact: 'YOU HAVE TO READ IT TO BELIEVE IT!'
Rachelstonebreaker has updated and completed her stunning 'The Pub Series - Story 1 - Politics' such depth!
LilyBaggins has created some new delights in 'Mathom' and updated 'The Pine- Woods Excursion'.
Frisky has updated her series 'Hopeless Life' a number of times.
Melodysongsinger has added another chapter to 'Only the Very Best'.
Xenobia has completed her truly BRILLIANT series: 'For the Love of a Took' and 'Cloudburst'.
Baylor has produced another truly stunning piece; it's a direct follow-on from 'Handkerchiefs and Mushroom Soup' and is called 'I Always Know You'. It is breathtaking!
Rufferto has updated the wonderful 'SILENT DESIRES' and for all those out there who haven't read it yet. Why?
Baranduin has created a truly addictive piece of writing in 'A Ranger's Desire--To Protect'. Definitely one for all those Frodo lovers out there.
Claudia has produced a piece of work that is so good...well. Any of you remember 'that' scene from "Harry met Sally"? It's THAT good! 'Trapped in Bree'.
BellaMonte has produced a beautiful Shire based tale of the highest quality. I'm well and truly hooked and I guarantee that if you love the hobbit younger years, you will be too. 'Treasures'.
Lobelia Sackville-Baggins, has created 'Rain' over at 'Nindaiwe' and it is really, really good!
Kookaburra has created one of the best pieces of...well hell it's got everything in it. (NC-17) But I do recommend it as a great read if you enjoy your fic's dark 'Moria's Revenge' (Co- author Llinos).
Mea has created 'The Conspiracy', which I personally have spent most of the morning drooling over again. It's another hobbit fic, and a damn good one!
Neon Star has written a shire tale: 'A Piece of My Heart' is centred on Frodo and Sam.
Talisha Hibdon has created a NOVEL based on the Frodo returns theme. This is really something special and I advise all to read. It is hard, gritty and grounded and poor Frodo's having a hard time fitting back into shire life. 'Dream With Hope' can be found at: Of_Rings_and_Hobbits@yahoogroups.com (numbers you need to type to bring up each chapter are as follow:
Chap 1: 102 Chap 2: 118 Chap 3: 128 Chap 4: 137 Chap 5: 211 Chap 6: 217 Chap 7: 261 Chap 8: 296 Chap 9: 402 Chap 10: 543
Hope has written another beautiful stand on it's own piece called: 'A Familiar Song'.
And I think I'll have to put my other recommendations on the next posting!
Brandywine
Chapter 16: Walkabouts
"It's not true!"
Bilbo awoke from the light exhaustive sleep he had unwittingly fallen into. He turned blurry eyes to the pale, glistening form on the bed and waited until his vision cleared. After several tense moments of observing his young nephew's face he sighed. It must have been his imagination playing a cruel trick on him.
In Frodo's fevered mind he found himself assailed by harsh words and half- truths from some of the less friendly inhabitants of Hobbiton.
*Baggins is his name, but he's more than half a Brandybuck! *
Frodo whimpered. "I don't under-understand. What's so wrong with being Bran- Brandybuck?"
At this Bilbo sat bolt upright and scanned Frodo's face for any sign that he might be waking. No. As he pressed the back of his hand to his brow it revealed the fever still raged. Laura had warned it would be so for a day or two to come. Yet it was still disappointing.
Ted Sandyman's gruff, sarcastic voice intoned. *I heard she pushed him in, and he pulled her in after*
"You're lying!" Frodo shouted.
Bilbo winced. Bag End was silent and Frodo's voice was surprisingly shrill. He recovered the compress from the bedside and dampened it in a fresh bowl of cool water. Brushing back some of the lank curls, he placed the cloth on Frodo's brow and was relieved to see him lean into his uncle's hand.
Frodo's face looked troubled. Bilbo had an idea of what he spoke. It was common knowledge that Lobelia was outraged when Bilbo brought Frodo to live with him at Bag End. She had wasted no time in putting a slur on Frodo's good character at every opportunity. Thankfully most folk of Hobbiton were of a sensible breed, and knew enough of the Sackville-Bagginses to know gossip from their quarter was more than likely tainted. But there would always be the odd few, and Bilbo had heard such muck with his own ears often enough to know that at some point it would, unfortunately, reach Frodo.
"Frodo?" Bilbo kept his voice low and warm. He had an idea that just might work if Frodo was receptive enough.
"Frodo my boy. Can you hear me?"
Frodo's brow furrowed and he gave a soft moan.
"Answer me!" Bilbo insisted, putting a little more authority into his tone.
"Uncle?" Frodo whispered.
Bilbo grinned so hard his face ached; that one word he had taken for granted and was so dearly missed made his heart soar. He leant forward and grasped the young hobbit's soft, clammy hand and patted it reassuringly.
"Tell me what they're saying."
Frodo's face contorted with the effort of the request and it soon became obvious that he either couldn't understand or didn't want to answer. Bilbo suspected a little of both. But he was not about to give up just yet, he knew Frodo would probably be aghast when he discovered how his uncle had come by this information, but he would deal with that bridge when it needed crossing. Right now he was the adult and he would not pass up such an opportunity.
"What are they saying to you? Repeat it to me, if you can."
Bilbo was convinced Frodo had drifted back off to sleep when Frodo's abused voice began to brokenly relay information. It flowed freely, although, somewhat jumbled in places as his mind jumped from memory to memory in no particular order. But it was clear enough.
As the boy continued his anguished ramblings Bilbo was appalled to discover that Lobelia herself had taken great pleasure in confronting Frodo on a number of occasions. Each encounter had added more silent scarring to the already damaged child, yet not once had he mentioned any of these confrontations to Bilbo.
He was furious with Lobelia and strove to understand why Frodo would keep this sort of thing to himself. He had always known that Frodo liked to handle his own problems and for that Bilbo held great respect. But there was only so much that a tween (well barely a tween at that) could endure against the kind of torrent that was being relayed to him at that moment.
And the language used! He knew that Lobelia had a foul mouth at times but that these words were directed at his beloved young cousin was too much. Frodo should never have even heard them let alone have them directed at him. But that was not the end of it. Frodo went on to speak of his parents and what he had overheard at The Ivy Bush one evening when his friend Fatty had dragged him along (Frodo and Fatty are old enough by hobbit standards to frequent pubs if they so choose). To hear one's parents spoken of that way and under those circumstances was truly awful.
Guilt seeped into Bilbo's thoughts as, thankfully, Frodo grew silent and stilled, falling back into sleep as best the fever would allow. He had no idea that Frodo was enduring so much pain just by being his heir and living in Hobbiton.
*Was I selfish to bring him here after all this time? Would it have been kinder to leave things as they were, where he was somewhat settled?*
He banished all such thoughts in the next instance when he remembered how overlooked the young boy was there. By the Shire, it had taken six hours before anyone had noticed that he had not attended dinner the last time he had visited at Brandy Hall. It wasn't that his relations were cruel, although there were one or two who positively hated children and made it known. No, it was just that there were so many children living in the Halls that to keep track of them all was nigh on impossible. Frodo was simply swept away in the crowd.
However in the short space of time that Frodo had been living in Hobbiton, his education and language skills had improved tenfold. He was always one for books; Bilbo discovered and fed that part of Frodo that hungered for knowledge of history, language and mythology, which would otherwise have been neglected. His grasp of Elvish was impressive for one so young and Bilbo was careful not to push him too hard, allowing him to find his own pace.
A dreamy sigh from the bed brought Bilbo back to the present. On Frodo's face a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. It had not been seen in days and brought great relief to Bilbo as he continued to stroke his nephew's slender, delicate hand. It always amused Bilbo that locked behind that sweet face was knowledge far beyond his years, yet he was never outspoken. Only on request (usually from Sam or Merry) would he tell a tale of old or speak Elvish. He himself had caught Sam reciting Elvish in the garden on more than one occasion when he thought no one was in earshot. Bilbo had no doubts as to who his teacher was.
He chuckled. Sam and Frodo were as close as two friends could be, and for that Bilbo was grateful. They had managed to do what most others could not. Look past their very different social standings as they grew and became more aware of their place. Sam ensured that Frodo attended at least a handful of the social events in the Shire that Frodo would normally shy away from. They were good together, they had a very strong bond that Bilbo had never had with anyone himself. He didn't understand it, but accepted it all the same.
Tomorrow, if Frodo was a little more rested he would bring Sam and Merry to see him. It would do the three of them good; Bilbo had been keeping informed of Merry and Sam's progress via Laura. Yes, tomorrow he should be well enough to receive visitors.
****
On the fifth morning of Bilbo's vigil at Frodo's bedside, Frodo woke up. It was a little after two in the morning. Several candles had been placed on the mantelpiece opposite the foot of his bed, and their soft flickering glow was enough to dimly illuminate his room.
"Aawwwww! My head!" He moaned softly as he slowly pulled himself into a sitting position, using his headboard for added support. Gasping in shock at the harsh sound of his own voice. Its usual harmonic light tones were hidden now beneath layers of rumbling thunder and burning fire. He soon realised to speak was very painful and made a mental note to avoid doing so for the time being.
A wave of weakness washed through his body at that moment, forcing him to freeze, slightly hunched over with his head pressed into his hands until it passed. He expelled the breath he was holding and allowed his hands to slide through his hair, grimacing at its damp, oily texture. His face felt hot, even to him, and he knew that he must have been quite ill judging by the number of assorted phials he could see on his bedside table, not to mention the heavy scent of lavender that seemed to be not only in the air but rising from his chest as well.
Frodo froze as he felt a movement and heard a soft snore reach his ears. Looking down to his right he couldn't help but smile fondly as he recognised the mad tangle of coarse greying curls. Bilbo was sound asleep, head pillowed on his folded arms, satin shirt crumpled to the extreme, no weskit and braces dangling carelessly at his sides. Frodo frowned as he observed even in the poor light his uncle's haggard appearance. He reached over and with more effort than the gesture should have taken, retrieved one of the soft blankets that had been piled on his left set of bookshelves. He draped it as best he could around his uncle's shoulders before lightly kissing him on the brow.
He had no idea why his body ached as badly as it did, his legs felt tight- skinned, achy and unstable. His chest felt heavier than it aught, but despite everything else, one urge seized him above all his other discomforts... he needed to use the bathroom. Now!
As silently as he could, he slipped from the bed and placed both feet firmly on the floor. It felt cold and soothing as the slate quickly drew the warmth from the pads of his feet. It was wonderfully refreshing and gave Frodo the confidence he needed to push away from the bed. He stood, swaying from side-to-side until his sense of balance returned and his blood had time get used to his upright position after his extended bed rest.
Using the furniture in the room for additional support he shakily made his way across his shadowed room and out into the darker corridor. Stumbling a few times before his eyes adjusted to the new darkness and finally made it to the bathroom.
Having to sit on the toilet instead of standing was both embarrassing and annoying to Frodo but as he finished and silently closed the door behind him his stomach grumbled loudly. Now that his attention had been drawn to it, he found that he was rather hungry. No. He was starving hungry and before he knew that he was moving again he found his feet taking him to the kitchen.
*****
Something wasn't right. Rising through the depths of much needed sleep Bilbo Baggins awoke with an inexplicable feeling of unease. He sighed loudly and rubbed his face in his hands in an effort to wake fully. His neck cracked as a reminded to him that despite being graced with the good, long lived blood of his ancestors, he was definitely too old to be sleeping in chairs, especially in that position. He rubbed his neck purposefully and stretched the kink from his spine before checking on his nephew.
When Bilbo's eyes fell on the empty bed his blood chilled and any remnants of sleep fell away abruptly. He shot to his feet and patted the bedding where Frodo should be, not believing his eyes.
"Frodo?" He whispered in disbelief as he broke into a cold sweat.
No answer.
"Frodo!" He searched all round the bed in case, in his fevered dreams the poor lad had slipped from the bed. But there was no sign of him, nor was he to be found anywhere else in the room. Now on the edge of full-blown panic Bilbo raced into the corridor pausing only long enough to snatch up a candle and continue his search. It wasn't very long before his attention was drawn to the kitchen. Small muffled noises reached his ears, as if someone was trying to lift something extremely heavy. Eyes focused only on the archway to the kitchen he moved swiftly observing that indeed someone was up and about as the soft glow of several lit lanterns spilled into the corridor's end.
What met his eyes as he entered the kitchen almost made him weep. There, dressed in only a long, thin cotton nightshirt and grunting softly under the supreme effort of trying to hook the now water filled kettle back in place, stood Frodo.
He didn't notice his uncle enter the kitchen he was so wrapped up in his effort to make himself some tea that nothing else seemed to exist anymore, except the object of his futile efforts. *This is madness, it should not be this heavy! *
"Come on damn you!" He cursed in frustration, even as he resigned himself to the fact that he was not going to get the cup of tea he so desperately craved.
He allowed the kettle to clatter back to the stoves surface and rest there while he wiped some of the newly formed sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his shirt, blowing the maddening curls from his eyes a second later.
"Frodo?"
He startled badly, almost loosing his footing as he spun in the direction of the voice. There in the shadowed archway stood his Uncle and before Frodo could respond, his Uncle had closed the distance between them with frightening speed and gathered him up in a strong embrace.
Frodo giggled in surprise as he felt himself lifted completely off the floor as Bilbo heaved the tweenager up so that he now sat completely on Bilbo's arm, his other hand locked around Frodo's head pressing it into his shoulder as he murmured words that Frodo couldn't catch.
It had been so many years since someone had held him thus. Another person, another life, he had forgotten just how much he needed it and how good it felt. It was only after the fierce embrace ended that Frodo saw tears glisten on Bilbo's cheeks as he guided himself and Frodo onto one of the kitchen chairs, Frodo sitting across his lap as if he were twelve once more.
Frodo soon picked up on the fact that Bilbo seemed reluctant to let him go and so settled into his lap allowing the comforting, protective feel of Bilbo's arms around his slender body to wash over him. He reached up and brushed away new tears that were making their way down his uncle's face.
Smiling he said, in as clear a voice as he could muster. "It's all right Uncle, I'm here." But to his dismay this seemed to make the flow worsen as Bilbo fumbled one-handedly searching for his elusive handkerchief.
"Bilbo. What's wrong?"
Bilbo laughed then, it sounded strange as if it were not entirely happy. Scared maybe? Frodo didn't have long to ponder it as Bilbo composed himself enough to finally speak.
"Nothing. Nothing's wrong now that you're awake my boy," and hugged him again to reassure himself that this was not some cruel dream. Satisfied eventually that it was not, he sat back and looked Frodo over carefully, he was still flushed and too warm to the touch. His face took on a sterner expression as worry clouded his joy. "Now just what do you think you are doing out of bed? Huuum?"
Frodo grinned sheepishly and nodded towards the kettle. He was still trying to keep his speaking to a minimum, but the pain was worth it to see the twinkle return to Bilbo's eyes. "I needed to use the bathroom and..." He paused despite his best efforts and sucked in as much air as his aching chest and burning throat would allow without coughing. "...I got hungry and thirsty," he finished.
Bilbo frowned at the effort it took Frodo to speak and then remembered how hard he had found it to lift the kettle, a nothing weight. It spoke volumes to the old hobbit. His worried gaze softened as he stared into those beautiful, loving, clear blue eyes and melted.
"All right lad, no harm done. But you should have woken me and I would have prepared something for you, and there is a bedpan in your room. It's not there for decoration!" he joked, as Frodo turned red and looked away. "Come on now, there's no need for that. I understand using such a thing is a little embarrassing...but we have all been that ill at some point in our lives that they become necessary. I will not have you exhausting yourself like this just to save your dignity or pride. You know what they say happens to those who have too much pride?"
"Yes Uncle. I'm sorry...I didn't, I still don't..." his voice was starting to crack again and swallowing alone was not enough to calm it.
"Understand?" Bilbo offered, feeling awful for scolding him.
Bilbo sighed and gently transferred him to the chair then scuttled out of the room, returning moments later with a night robe and a quilted blanket. As Frodo sat back more comfortably in the chair, now dressed in the robe and wrapped in the soft quilt, he listened as Bilbo filled him in on the missing days whilst he set about boiling water and reheating some of Mrs Gamgee's Broth.
"What is the last thing you remember?" he asked as he poured boiling water into the teapot, careful not to swamp the thin metal leaf strainer. He then proceeded to pour two cups of tea, one with cream and sugar and one with a small amount of milk only. He set the darker brew in front of Frodo and then went to check on the broth.
Frodo furrowed his brow in concentration, finding it nice to be able to think again. It seemed as if it had been a long time since things had been this clear. "I remember apple picking... rain." His memories were more elusive after that. "...I remember water and being very cold." Suddenly a vision of his beloved mother came flooding back to him and his promise to her.
"Frodo-lad don't take on so!" Bilbo's panicked voice penetrated the haze and he realised that he was breathing too fast and that it had been a long time since he had last spoken. He blinked to discover his Uncle kneeling before him; an anxious look upon his face and the back of his hand lay against Frodo's brow.
Frodo forced a small smile and pushed Bilbo's hand away. "I'm all right Uncle" but the effect was spoilt as a rattling cough cut his speech short.
Bilbo rubbed his back in firm circles; mindful of the tender areas and together they rode out the fit. When Frodo had settled enough, Bilbo scooted back a touch and ran his critical eye over him. Frodo squirmed under his gaze as Bilbo's eyes moved deliberately slowly, taking in and processing every detail. The flushed face, more so now after the coughing, the permanent sheen of sweat across his brow and upper lip, and the way his hands shook slightly in his lap.
"You're not all right, of that much I am certain" He pushed the bowl of broth towards Frodo and instructed him to eat as much as he could. To the old hobbit's complete surprise Frodo not only finished that bowl of broth, but also a second as well as a small glass of cold orange juice and three cups of tea. With a satisfied sigh followed by a huge jaw-cracking yawn Frodo pushed the empty bowl away and leaned back in the chair allowing his eyes to rest momentarily.
Bilbo chuckled as he watched his nephew struggle to stay awake. He was so pleased that Frodo's appetite had returned and that he had been able to keep the food down (which he had fretted over as Frodo demolished the second helping). He grinned as Frodo lost the battle and a soft buzzing sound signalled his defeat. Gently, ever so gently he carried him back to his room and unwrapping him, placing him back in bed and tucked him in. As he settled himself back into his chair he noted the soft snore had ceased and a light smile formed on Frodo's lips.
"Uncle?" He whispered.
"Yes lad, is there anything you want?"
"No... I have everything I need." His smile broadened and Bilbo could hear a laugh to his broken tones as Frodo's hand sought his and clasped it firmly.
"Uncle?" He asked, but his voice was becoming distant as sleep pulled at him.
"Yes?"
"I love you" Frodo was asleep before he could hear the reply, the smile never completely leaving his mouth.
Bilbo looked down upon this child that was so dear to him and felt fit to burst with the number of emotions that he couldn't distinguish inside himself. He contented himself with stroking the back of Frodo's hand with a snippet of satin and grinned at the deep sigh it produced.
Frodo would be well, of that he was now certain. He had been given the greatest honour in life he could have hoped for; he was bringing up one of the strongest and gentlest souls in the entire Shire. And he blessed Primula and Drogo for their gift, for of all their many hundreds of relations, Bilbo was their first choice of guardian. A kindness and trust he would never be able to repay, but he would see that Frodo never wanted for anything again.
****
Merry awoke the next morning to a raging hunger that he could not explain, nor could he remember sleeping so soundly for a long time. He didn't remember his dreams, but that was not a bad thing, at least they weren't nightmares. He groggily pulled himself up and was rewarded with the beaming face of Mrs Gamgee walking briskly towards him carrying a tray of cooked food. She placed it on the side and helped him to readjust the pillows behind his back before wishing him a cheery 'Good morning'.
He scratched at the sleep dust still in his eyes and smiled up at her wishing her the same as she sat the full breakfast tray in his lap and with a wink informed him that if there was anything else he wanted just ask, and there was plenty more where that came from.
He tucked in ravenously and only after clearing two thirds of his dish did he look over to see Sam awake and reading one of Frodo's books... something Elvish, translated into the common tongue by the looks of it.
Sam felt the weight of Merry's eyes on him and looked up, grinning he closed the book and looked to the door before sliding from the bed and perching on the side of Merry's. It was only then that Merry realised Sam was fully dressed: in a plain cream cotton homemade shirt and deep brown woollen breeches. He could see evidence of mending at the knees but politely pulled his gaze back to Sam's face; too late it seemed to avoid being caught however. Something flickered across Sam's deep hazel browns and his smile faltered for a second before it was washed away and Merry was left to wonder if he had seen it at all.
"Good morning Mr Merry!" He chirped, literally bouncing on the spot. "How are you feelin' today?"
Merry found Sam's good nature infectious for he found himself smiling before be realised it. "Very well thank you, Sam. What's going on? You seem fit to burst! Oh please don't bounce so, unless you want to see this breakfast of mine again," he laughed.
Sam immediately stilled and apologised even as Merry waved off its necessity. "Well I've got good reason sir. Mr Bilbo came in earlier this morn and told me that Mr Frodo woke up last night!"
He watched as Merry smiled, but there was sadness in his eyes at the mention of his cousin. He quickly thought back over what he had just said to try and understand Merry's reaction to such good news and then remembered being told about Frodo's waking confusion. "Oh no! Not like that Sir! I mean awake, awake!" He grinned as Merry's face brightened and he sat up straighter.
"Was he all right? Did he say anything? Tell me!" He bubbled.
Sam chuckled as he recalled Bilbo's fond mutterings about 'that boy' and the kitchen incident. "Oh aye, he's done more than talking. Mr Bilbo caught him in the kitchen making tea would you believe!"
Merry's face warred between shock and amusement before he burst into uncontrollable laughter and tears rolled down his cheeks as Sam joined him. "He did what? Oh that's precious, I bet Uncle nearly had kittens!"
Sam nodded as he wiped away a tear. "The best part's not been said yet! Later when you're dressed an' all we're both allowed to see him." He paused with a frown before continuing "But I think he's asleep right now, he's still got a bit of a fever but nothing like before. Miss Goodbody's been humming tunes all morning she's so pleased and Ma said that he even managed some more food earlier and was laughing and joking with her when she came in to help change the linens."
"Oh Sam that is wonderful news. I can hardly wait to see him," then in a slightly quieter voice added, "I've missed him terribly".
"Well as my Sam said he's sleepin' right now Mr Merry so I'm afraid ye'll have ta wait a little longer." Bell Gamgee laughed as the two youngsters startled. Her eyes sparkled as she observed Merry was still unconsciously picking at the remainder of his food. "Awww now none a' that, he needs his rest an' ye still need ta have yer bath and get dressed yet Sir."
Merry scrunched up his face at the mention of yet another bath. He was never an unhygienic hobbit but this was getting a bit much, every morning and evening, still at least he no longer had to have Hamfast accompany him.
His legs had lost their ache and regained their earlier strength, but he did still feel very drained and it must have finally caught up with him he mused, to fall asleep like that. One minute he had been talking with Sam and the next, it was morning. How embarrassing, he wondered if Sam thought him terribly rude for falling asleep in the middle of a conversation, but brushed it off and instead opted to devour his cooling breakfast as fast as possible and have his bath. The sooner he was in, the sooner he could get out he reasoned.
****
"Shuuuu!"
"Shush yourself"
"Well meaning no disrespect but..."
"Saaaam!"
"...not supposed to be in..."
Frodo awoke to the sounds of a hushed argument in full swing between his dear cousin and...and Sam? It surprised him no end to hear Sam politely give as good as he got from his quick-tongued cousin. But then, Frodo realised that where he or his uncle were concerned Sam had never been shy about defending either of them. It warmed his heart and he allowed himself a small smile as he heard the air whistle angrily through Sam's front teeth, a sure sign that he was trying his hardest not to loose his temper. A rare occurrence but not unknown to Frodo.
He ventured a quick peek as he heard the scrapping of a chair followed by Sam's light-footed approach, scolding Merry for dragging said chair instead of lifting it. From his prone position he opened one eye enough to see a very red-faced Sam eyeing his cousin and shaking his head as Merry tried to lift the old rocker into a position next to the bed. When Sam sighed and turned back to Frodo, Frodo had already closed his eye and lay still.
"Oh botheration!"
"What's the matter?"
"Nothing, nothing. I need to use the bathroom; I'll be back in a minute. Whatever you do, don't let Uncle or Miss Goodbody catch you in here," and with that said he quickly retreated from the room.
"It's me Ma I'd be worried about if I were you Sir," he whispered to the empty doorway allowing himself a small chuckle at the image.
Sam soon turned his attention back to his master. He did look a lot better than the last time he'd been able to see him, almost a week ago now. He had missed his dear face terribly and was glad to see him at peace and breathing much more easily.
"Well Sir you didn't half give your Sam a scare!" He chided "But at least you don't seem in pain anymore" He looked to the empty doorway making sure he was alone before he reached out and allowed his hand to trail gently in Frodo's damp curls, marvelling that even after such sickness they still slid through his fingers with ease. He brushed the dark locks back and lightly traced the curve of Frodo's perfectly formed pointy ear and down to his smooth jaw where he allowed his hand to rest gently in revelry at that which he feared he had lost.
He felt a small shudder pass through Frodo and quickly withdrew his hand lest his master wake to discover his gardener pawing at him in a most inappropriate manner. "I'm so sorry. It's my stupid, clumsy fault you got hurt, if I'd been more mindful of were I was treading then you and Mr Merry wouldn't have got hurt." He scrunched his eyes tightly shut and laced his strong calloused hand in Frodo's. "I'm sorry," he whispered.
Frodo who was still reeling from Sam's golden touch, which made his whole body respond wantonly, could stand the pretence no longer. Sam's self loathing was breaking his heart as he felt the unmistakable wetness of tears against his held hand. He opened his eyes to see Sam quickly dab their evidence away with his handkerchief and continue to stare at the hand he held.
"Sam!"
That one word held so much emotion and was barely above a whisper so choked was Frodo with his own emotions that he was unsure whether he had spoken it or only thought it. He closed his eyes and waited out the maelstrom that threatened to overwhelm him. When he felt the warning, prickly at the back of his eyes, dissipate only then did he allow himself a second view of his distraught friend.
Sam was sat in absolute silence, startled ridged and open-mouthed as if he'd just broken a second vase and wasn't sure what to do about it. His mouth worked but no sound was made and he clutched Frodo's hand a little more tightly, almost desperately.
Frodo smiled up at him and gave his hand a squeeze back. "Hello Sam, I've missed you."
It was too much for the younger hobbit who burst into silent sobs as Frodo rose to a sitting position and drew him in for a warm embrace. This was the second person that had cried on him in less than a day! Frodo rocked him gently and soothed him until he felt the tremors stop and his death grip loosen. When he pulled back Sam was red-faced and apologetic, trying desperately to straighten his clothes and not look Frodo in the eye.
Frodo raised his chin so that Sam was forced to look at him. Sam's gaze locked on Frodo's and he gave an audible gasp as he realised that Frodo had unshed tears pooled in his own eyes but a gentle smile played on his lips.
"There is nothing! And I repeat nothing! Any of us could have or would have done differently that day, Samwise. None of it was anyone's fault, least of all yours and there is nothing to be sorry for. Understand?" Despite the slight gruffness that still hampered his voice he tried to make it as steady as possible to get the message across.
Sam was silent, allowing Frodo's word to sink in and not allow himself to be distracted by the flutter in his stomach as Frodo's eyes revealed his love and concern for the young gardener in his grasp. The moment was broken as Sam heard Merry moving towards the door with what he claimed was a light foot. *Light foot indeed* he mused and pulled reluctantly out of Frodo's grasp still holding his gaze. He smiled then and gave a small nod.
"Thank you Sir, that means a lot to me." He wanted to say more, but it was not his place and despite what he thought he saw in Frodo's eyes he was still unsure and for all of Middle-earth he would do nothing to make Frodo unhappy. His master, he decided, should always be happy and he vowed he would do everything within his power to ensure that happened.
Frodo watched Sam's face as he slipped from his grasp and allowed his arm to fall back to the bedcovers. It seemed as if a heavy weight had been lifted from Sam's broad shoulders but to Frodo's dismay his eyes remained closed. He took the chance that his instincts were right "As you mean to me, Sam," he whispered.
It was loud enough to reach Sam's sharp ears and he grinned foolishly and looked about ready to say something when an excited squeal from across the room broke the spell and alerted the pair of Merry's arrival.
"Cousin! You're awake! But it's been so long I'd almost forgotten what you looked like." He joked as he took his place the opposite side of the bed and gave Sam a knowing look. The gardener flushed crimson and began to fuss over Frodo's bedding, checking that he had enough liquids in reach should he need them.
Frodo hugged his young cousin and as he observed Sam's flustered doings, guessed the reason and gave Merry a swat to the rump as the embrace broke. Silently scolding him with a glare and telling Sam to relax as for the first time he observed Sam's bandaged wrist now held tight against his chest as he poured water from the pitcher and set the glass down closer to Frodo.
"And just what do ye think yer about Samwise Gamgee!" Bell's voice boomed as she stood, hands on hips blocking the doorway. "I turn my back just long enough ta make second breakfast and yer gone! And don't think I haven't seen ye there either Mr Merry."
Bell scowled at her son's blatant disobedience and then turned her gaze to the real culprit. Sweet darling that he was she had to remind herself that he was still a Brandybuck!
Merry gave her his most innocent face and unconsciously moved closer to his cousin who couldn't help a snigger at his cousin's reaction. Just what had been going on while he was ill? Much he was sure.
"It's all right Mrs Gamgee I was awake anyway and I could use the company."
"Well. If ye say so Sir, but it's time for yer medicine and Miss Goodbody will be along shortly to massage ye again."
"Massage?" Merry and Sam chorused staring at him wide-eyed.
Frodo blushed as he quickly drank down the vile concoction Bell handed him and groaned loudly. "That's no massage, its torture!" He whinged. "Surely there is another way?" he pleaded.
Laura entered Frodo's room and was surprised to find it full of hobbits when she had left specific instruction that the young master needed his rest. "No Mr Frodo there isn't," she chuckled as Frodo unconsciously retreated closer to Sam who stood and stared at her, allowing Frodo to lean into him.
"Now, now Sir, it's not for much longer, another three days at the most and I'll not have ta bother ye that way again."
"Three days!"
Laura set down the necessary oils and the dreaded bowl before turning stern eyes on him. "Now none of that! I don't think anyone's told ye yet but I'm tellin' ye now, you very near passed two nights ago and if I don't do this ye wont recover."
"Laura!" Bell cried in dismay as she saw Merry's face drain of colour and Sam's chin tremble.
Sam, despite his mother's disapproving glare clutched Frodo to himself more securely, but Frodo just stared at her blankly. He thought of his mother and his promise to her again. He looked to the shocked and fearful face of his cousin and felt the tension sing through Sam as his arm tightened around him. Then he remembered his Uncle's fierce embrace when he found him in the kitchen *Poor Uncle Bilbo, how terrible this has all been for you.*
He smiled at her and allowed himself to relax back against the headboard and touched his hand to Merry's shoulder. Merry startled and turned impossibly wide eyes on him, genuine fear swam in their grey depths but the rest of his face remained a blank canvas.
*I wonder who taught him that?* He mused; it was unlike Merry to show such restraint especially in front of Frodo.
"I'll be all right Merry there's nothing to fear. It takes more than this illness to get rid of me!" He winked at him glad to see Merry relax a little, then turned to Sam, who was as rattled as Merry. "You're both stuck with me I'm afraid."
The tension dissolved slowly and Frodo asked Sam and Merry to leave promising he would speak with them again later. Laura wasn't so sure about the 'later' part, knowing how draining this procedure was on Frodo but she remained silent. When they had left and only Laura and Mrs Gamgee remained Frodo turned to Laura, he seemed to be quietly seething. She winced as his large, sparkling blue eyes held hers; he opened his mouth and then closed it. It took three attempts before he was able to speak without anger.
"Miss Goodbody. I owe you, amongst others, my life...for which I am very grateful. But please do not speak of such things again in front of my 'young' cousin and Samwise, they have been through quite enough already."
Laura realised that in allowing her own anger and exhaustion to get the better of her she had spoken out of turn. Though to be berated by a child barely into his tween's was highly embarrassing. Looking back on it now she realised that her outburst had been quite unnecessary. Bell was moving stiffly in the corner of the room; obviously uncomfortable and trying her hardest to do her job and leave.
"You're right, Sir" She said at length, "I'm sorry I was short with ye, it's just...ye had us all so worried an' I don't think I could face yer Uncle if I let anything happen to ye. Especially after such good progress." She stood stock-still waiting for the torrent to flow and was surprised when Frodo broke into a smile.
"Apology accepted." He frowned as she came closer and he noticed the dark smudges under her eyes. He cleared his throat and waited patiently until Bell left with an arm full of laundry before voicing his thought "You need to get some sleep Miss Goodbo..."
"Laura," she interrupted.
"Laura then. You need sleep."
She laughed, "I look that bad do I?"
Frodo averted his eyes causing her to laugh harder. "It's just...I don't want you to make yourself ill on my account," he murmured.
"Hey now! Who's the healer?"
"Who's the patient?" He countered, before they both laughed hard until Frodo began to cough.
Laura held his chest and rubbed his back until the racking cough left "Point taken Mr Frodo, now I'm afraid it's time, and no more of yer stallin'!"
He groaned before allowing her to position him on his front over the end of the bed. Before she could begin he turned to her and said, "I wasn't just trying to stall you though, I meant what I said." Then grinned, "well maybe I was trying to delay you a little."
She motioned for him to turn back round, marvelling at his manners, in spite of still having a slight fever. "Thank you Sir, it was nice of ye to care. Now I'm afraid this is going to hurt a bit, but as I said before it must be done."
"I understand," He whispered. "Where is Uncle?"
"He's asleep next-door. Do ye want me ta fetch him?"
"No! No, it's not important. He needs a rest...I have never seen him look so old as he did last night."
"Worry over a loved one will do that ta anyone sir, don't ye go frettin'. He'll bounce back I'm sure."
With that said the torture commenced.
Tbc~
A huge "Thank you!" to Llinos *Big hug* you was kind enough to beta this chapter for me.