Aragorn, with Elrond back at his side, finished up cleansing Frodo's leg and placed a light bandage over the wound. The hobbit did his best not to flinch too much---although it still hurt terribly. He hoped he didn't need stitches in the wound . . . he was so tired of pain, so very tired . . . he closed his eyes and enjoyed the feeling of Arwen soothing his brow with a cool cloth.
"I'll be done in just a moment, Frodo," Aragorn told him easily, "and then we shall get you washed and into fresh linens so that you may rest comfortably. How does that sound?"
It was a rhetorical question, and no one expected an answer, but Frodo tried anyway, mumbling something quite unintelligible. Aragorn chuckled as he tied the bandage off and he and Elrond began to dispose of the bloody towels. The mood in the room suddenly felt a bit lighter, for which everyone was grateful.
Gandalf leaned forward in his chair to peer at Frodo, smiling at the sleepy hobbit. "Well, Master Baggins, I would definitely say . . ."
The wizard's words were abruptly cut off and everyone's heads jerked up as Frodo suddenly let loose a loud cry, his eyes rolling upward. As the air rushed from his lungs he fell completely limp, but just moments later his entire body stiffened and he arched his head back into his pillow.
"Another seizure," Elrond commented, his voice grave, as he and Aragorn both rushed to the head of the bed, Gandalf also rising. Arwen quickly inserted a towel into Frodo's mouth as the hobbit twitched and began to jerk spasmodically, his face turning slightly blue.
Bilbo was beside himself, his eyes wide as saucers and his hands shaking. "Do something for him!" he snapped. Although he knew children often suffered febrile seizures, he had never witnessed a convulsion in a full-grown hobbit. The violent tremors nearly seemed to shake Frodo apart. "He needs help!"
Elrond looked up at him, his voice stern. "Mind your panic, Bilbo. And do not try to restrain him---it will cease in a moment."
Indeed, a minute or two later, just as Bilbo was about to raise his voice again despite the elf lord's assurances, Frodo's little body relaxed and he fell limply onto the bed and Arwen's lap, his eyes closed, as saliva issued from his mouth.
He began to choke and Elrond and Aragorn swiftly flipped him onto his side; the elf lord inserting a finger into Frodo's mouth, clearing his airway, as Aragorn slipped a basin under the patient's chin in case Frodo vomited. During it all Arwen still held the hobbit's head pillowed on her lap as she sponged his now-slightly-less-blue face with a damp towel.
As expected Frodo began to retch, throwing up for long minutes before surrendering to dry heaves. Finally, when the others in the room could barely stand to witness the torture, it stopped and the hobbit lay breathing heavily, moaning, his body drenched with sweat. Elrond checked his vital signs while the others watched, their eyes wide. "He is stable at present," he told them, "but he must imbibe another dose of the treacle very soon. And he must be kept on his side in case he vomits again. Daughter, if you would continue to hold his head while we tend to him, that may make things easier . . ."
Carefully Elrond removed the hobbit's hot water bottles and folded the sweat-soaked covers and topsheet away from Frodo. The front of the hobbit's gown and the mattress beneath his hips were soaked with wetness.
"Oh, my poor lad," Bilbo breathed, stroking the younger hobbit's hair from where he sat behind him. "Please don't tell him he wet the bed---it would embarrass the dear boy terribly. Always has been sensitive about such things."
Elrond nodded. "The loss of bladder control is quite normal with a seizure such as this. He should not be embarrassed---there is no shame in being ill. We shall have to pad the mattress, as it is no doubt soaked through now." He looked thoughtful for a moment, then leaned over and began to unbutton Frodo's nightshirt.
But the hobbit had other ideas about being undressed. "N . . . no," he slurred, opening his eyes and folding his arms in front of his chest to deny the elf lord access.
"Frodo, calm down," Elrond said gently. "We are trying to help you."
"Frodo my lad?" Bilbo ventured, but there was no response, and he looked up at Elrond, his face a mask of concern. "Is he all right?"
"He will likely be disoriented for a good while, Bilbo, but will return to normal in a few hours." Elrond leaned down again, and again, Frodo swatted his hands away weakly. "Aragorn, Arwen, Bilbo . . . please see if you have better luck attending to him," the elf lord instructed, sighing. "I shall go prepare the last dose of treacle and be back shortly." He paused. "And I will send the remaining hobbits in---I am sure they are most eager to be with Frodo again."
The others nodded and Elrond left, Gandalf following, asking the elf lord for further details of Frodo's prognosis.
Meanwhile Aragorn was trying his luck at de-gowning the hobbit. As he did, Frodo moaned. "Stay . . . away . . ." he begged, barely getting the words out.
"Frodo, do you know who I am?" Aragorn asked him, but the hobbit only looked at him dully, unanswering. "Arwen, I will hold his arms out of the way as you unfasten it. We must get him out of it---he cannot lie in it, soiled as it is."
It was an uphill battle, but finally the two of them managed to ease the nightshirt off as Frodo struggled weakly, groaning and mumbling, although Bilbo did his best to comfort him. Then Aragorn wrapped the hobbit in a clean white sheet and gathered him into his arms while the others stripped the bed. Frodo still would not be quieted, however, and simply stared up at the ranger with wide blue eyes, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he trembled violently.
"Frodo . . . I am not the enemy," Aragorn reassured as he lowered himself into the chair Gandalf had vacated, letting the hobbit lean against his chest. Picking up a fresh cup of ginger tea, he managed to get Frodo to take a few small sips before he set the cup down, shifting Frodo to rest more comfortably against him. "Rest, now . . . rest for a bit." A few minutes later Frodo succumbed to drowsiness and closed his eyes, breathing loudly.
Aragorn turned at the sound of the door opening to see Pippin, Merry, and Sam quietly striding in, trying to be as noiseless as possible. Pippin especially---Elrond must have threatened him with forcible removal if the tweenager disturbed his patient. All of their faces were creased with trepidation as they stole to the chair, reaching with tentative hands to stroke Frodo's hair.
"He's asleep . . . that's good," Sam whispered. "Although I surely wish he knew we were here. I didn't want to leave his side, you know."
Aragorn sighed. "I know, Sam, and I *am* sorry. But as I'm certain Elrond told you, Frodo is a bit disoriented from his seizure and would likely not recognize you just now anyway. It is only temporary . . . he will return to normal once he's slept for a while."
"I understand, Strider, I really do. Is there naught we can do to help now?"
Aragorn looked up at their three faces, all earnestly wanting to help their friend and cousin the only way they knew how. "Yes, of course . . . Pippin and Merry, you can help Arwen with the bed, and Sam, if you would, prepare some good warm water for Frodo's sponge bath. You have done that before, I know. He'll be needing fresh water bottles as well."
"Oh yes, coming right up, Strider." Sam went off for a bit to complete his errand while Merry and Pippin helped Arwen and Bilbo with changing the bedding.
"What's this for?" Pippin asked as he helped to lay out a waterproof leather skin over the mattress, to be covered with more padding and sheets.
"He soiled the bed during his convulsion, Peregrin," Bilbo answered. "Perfectly normal. However, the mattress is now too wet for him to lie on it again unprotected."
The youngest hobbit's eyes grew huge and then narrowed in pity as he took this information in. "Poor Frodo. I did that myself as a tweenager when I was terribly ill. Quite embarrassing---especially," and now he turned to Merry, his voice lowering to a whisper so only his cousin could hear, "when he finds out it happened with Arwen about. To do such a thing around males, well . . . it's nothing, but with a lass---and an elf lass at that?" Pippin shook his head at the notion.
"Exactly why you're *not* going to tell Frodo, Peregrin Took," Merry admonished as he slipped a pillow into a fresh case. "And in any case, Arwen isn't exactly what I'd call a 'lass.' I heard she was thousands of years old, Pip---I'm sure she's seen much more."
"Hmmmm . . . I suppose you're right."
Together the four of them swiftly made the bed up with clean sheets and then covered it with soft absorbent towels, upon which Aragorn carefully deposited Frodo, unwrapping him from about his sheet.
Sam had brought the warm soapy water and Aragorn and Arwen thoroughly sponged Frodo down, washing his limbs and front and turning him over onto his side to wash his back and bottom half as well. Through it all the hobbit was out, seeming completely boneless, his breathing quite nasal and loud---something Elrond had indicated was normal after a seizure. Merry and Pippin sat nearby, watching, while Sam busied himself with getting the hot water bottles and finding something clean for Frodo to wear.
"It is fortunate that young Master Baggins is asleep," Arwen commented as she ran the cloth over Frodo's pale cheekbones and gently wiped the curves of his delicate pointed ears. "Otherwise our moving him would most assuredly cause him pain."
Aragorn nodded, trying to keep hold of a small slippery hand, which was quite a challenge. Inwardly he was thinking to himself that if he ever had children with Arwen, he hoped she would do the bathing, but of course he would never voice that to his beloved . . . "Indeed. But as soon as your father arrives with the treacle, we will regret it. We shall have to coax him to take it unconscious."
The two finished silently as Sam came up behind them. "Mr. Frodo's got no clean nightshirts to wear, Strider. He must have gone through them all already."
"Very well---he can go without for a while. It will be easier on him that way anyway---no jostling him about as we attempt to dress him."
Making certain Frodo was well dried off, Arwen lifted him while the others removed the towels from underneath. The hobbit was tucked back into bed on his side with hot water bottles and covered with clean sheets and blankets, his leg again protected from the pressure of blankets by the use of pillows.
"You're going to just leave poor Frodo naked?" Pippin asked, never one for delicacy, as he watched his cousin curl up and snuggle down into his sheets. "I do hope I am never ill and must be healed by any of you---I do have some dignity I would like to retain."
The others stared at him, shaking their heads---Merry nearly guffawing---as they settled in for another vigil. Bilbo wanted to be close to Frodo, so Aragorn boosted him up onto the bed. Once there, the old hobbit sat close to his heir, rubbing Frodo's shoulder and smoothing his hair, until just minutes later he himself nodded off, asleep.
To be continued
"I'll be done in just a moment, Frodo," Aragorn told him easily, "and then we shall get you washed and into fresh linens so that you may rest comfortably. How does that sound?"
It was a rhetorical question, and no one expected an answer, but Frodo tried anyway, mumbling something quite unintelligible. Aragorn chuckled as he tied the bandage off and he and Elrond began to dispose of the bloody towels. The mood in the room suddenly felt a bit lighter, for which everyone was grateful.
Gandalf leaned forward in his chair to peer at Frodo, smiling at the sleepy hobbit. "Well, Master Baggins, I would definitely say . . ."
The wizard's words were abruptly cut off and everyone's heads jerked up as Frodo suddenly let loose a loud cry, his eyes rolling upward. As the air rushed from his lungs he fell completely limp, but just moments later his entire body stiffened and he arched his head back into his pillow.
"Another seizure," Elrond commented, his voice grave, as he and Aragorn both rushed to the head of the bed, Gandalf also rising. Arwen quickly inserted a towel into Frodo's mouth as the hobbit twitched and began to jerk spasmodically, his face turning slightly blue.
Bilbo was beside himself, his eyes wide as saucers and his hands shaking. "Do something for him!" he snapped. Although he knew children often suffered febrile seizures, he had never witnessed a convulsion in a full-grown hobbit. The violent tremors nearly seemed to shake Frodo apart. "He needs help!"
Elrond looked up at him, his voice stern. "Mind your panic, Bilbo. And do not try to restrain him---it will cease in a moment."
Indeed, a minute or two later, just as Bilbo was about to raise his voice again despite the elf lord's assurances, Frodo's little body relaxed and he fell limply onto the bed and Arwen's lap, his eyes closed, as saliva issued from his mouth.
He began to choke and Elrond and Aragorn swiftly flipped him onto his side; the elf lord inserting a finger into Frodo's mouth, clearing his airway, as Aragorn slipped a basin under the patient's chin in case Frodo vomited. During it all Arwen still held the hobbit's head pillowed on her lap as she sponged his now-slightly-less-blue face with a damp towel.
As expected Frodo began to retch, throwing up for long minutes before surrendering to dry heaves. Finally, when the others in the room could barely stand to witness the torture, it stopped and the hobbit lay breathing heavily, moaning, his body drenched with sweat. Elrond checked his vital signs while the others watched, their eyes wide. "He is stable at present," he told them, "but he must imbibe another dose of the treacle very soon. And he must be kept on his side in case he vomits again. Daughter, if you would continue to hold his head while we tend to him, that may make things easier . . ."
Carefully Elrond removed the hobbit's hot water bottles and folded the sweat-soaked covers and topsheet away from Frodo. The front of the hobbit's gown and the mattress beneath his hips were soaked with wetness.
"Oh, my poor lad," Bilbo breathed, stroking the younger hobbit's hair from where he sat behind him. "Please don't tell him he wet the bed---it would embarrass the dear boy terribly. Always has been sensitive about such things."
Elrond nodded. "The loss of bladder control is quite normal with a seizure such as this. He should not be embarrassed---there is no shame in being ill. We shall have to pad the mattress, as it is no doubt soaked through now." He looked thoughtful for a moment, then leaned over and began to unbutton Frodo's nightshirt.
But the hobbit had other ideas about being undressed. "N . . . no," he slurred, opening his eyes and folding his arms in front of his chest to deny the elf lord access.
"Frodo, calm down," Elrond said gently. "We are trying to help you."
"Frodo my lad?" Bilbo ventured, but there was no response, and he looked up at Elrond, his face a mask of concern. "Is he all right?"
"He will likely be disoriented for a good while, Bilbo, but will return to normal in a few hours." Elrond leaned down again, and again, Frodo swatted his hands away weakly. "Aragorn, Arwen, Bilbo . . . please see if you have better luck attending to him," the elf lord instructed, sighing. "I shall go prepare the last dose of treacle and be back shortly." He paused. "And I will send the remaining hobbits in---I am sure they are most eager to be with Frodo again."
The others nodded and Elrond left, Gandalf following, asking the elf lord for further details of Frodo's prognosis.
Meanwhile Aragorn was trying his luck at de-gowning the hobbit. As he did, Frodo moaned. "Stay . . . away . . ." he begged, barely getting the words out.
"Frodo, do you know who I am?" Aragorn asked him, but the hobbit only looked at him dully, unanswering. "Arwen, I will hold his arms out of the way as you unfasten it. We must get him out of it---he cannot lie in it, soiled as it is."
It was an uphill battle, but finally the two of them managed to ease the nightshirt off as Frodo struggled weakly, groaning and mumbling, although Bilbo did his best to comfort him. Then Aragorn wrapped the hobbit in a clean white sheet and gathered him into his arms while the others stripped the bed. Frodo still would not be quieted, however, and simply stared up at the ranger with wide blue eyes, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he trembled violently.
"Frodo . . . I am not the enemy," Aragorn reassured as he lowered himself into the chair Gandalf had vacated, letting the hobbit lean against his chest. Picking up a fresh cup of ginger tea, he managed to get Frodo to take a few small sips before he set the cup down, shifting Frodo to rest more comfortably against him. "Rest, now . . . rest for a bit." A few minutes later Frodo succumbed to drowsiness and closed his eyes, breathing loudly.
Aragorn turned at the sound of the door opening to see Pippin, Merry, and Sam quietly striding in, trying to be as noiseless as possible. Pippin especially---Elrond must have threatened him with forcible removal if the tweenager disturbed his patient. All of their faces were creased with trepidation as they stole to the chair, reaching with tentative hands to stroke Frodo's hair.
"He's asleep . . . that's good," Sam whispered. "Although I surely wish he knew we were here. I didn't want to leave his side, you know."
Aragorn sighed. "I know, Sam, and I *am* sorry. But as I'm certain Elrond told you, Frodo is a bit disoriented from his seizure and would likely not recognize you just now anyway. It is only temporary . . . he will return to normal once he's slept for a while."
"I understand, Strider, I really do. Is there naught we can do to help now?"
Aragorn looked up at their three faces, all earnestly wanting to help their friend and cousin the only way they knew how. "Yes, of course . . . Pippin and Merry, you can help Arwen with the bed, and Sam, if you would, prepare some good warm water for Frodo's sponge bath. You have done that before, I know. He'll be needing fresh water bottles as well."
"Oh yes, coming right up, Strider." Sam went off for a bit to complete his errand while Merry and Pippin helped Arwen and Bilbo with changing the bedding.
"What's this for?" Pippin asked as he helped to lay out a waterproof leather skin over the mattress, to be covered with more padding and sheets.
"He soiled the bed during his convulsion, Peregrin," Bilbo answered. "Perfectly normal. However, the mattress is now too wet for him to lie on it again unprotected."
The youngest hobbit's eyes grew huge and then narrowed in pity as he took this information in. "Poor Frodo. I did that myself as a tweenager when I was terribly ill. Quite embarrassing---especially," and now he turned to Merry, his voice lowering to a whisper so only his cousin could hear, "when he finds out it happened with Arwen about. To do such a thing around males, well . . . it's nothing, but with a lass---and an elf lass at that?" Pippin shook his head at the notion.
"Exactly why you're *not* going to tell Frodo, Peregrin Took," Merry admonished as he slipped a pillow into a fresh case. "And in any case, Arwen isn't exactly what I'd call a 'lass.' I heard she was thousands of years old, Pip---I'm sure she's seen much more."
"Hmmmm . . . I suppose you're right."
Together the four of them swiftly made the bed up with clean sheets and then covered it with soft absorbent towels, upon which Aragorn carefully deposited Frodo, unwrapping him from about his sheet.
Sam had brought the warm soapy water and Aragorn and Arwen thoroughly sponged Frodo down, washing his limbs and front and turning him over onto his side to wash his back and bottom half as well. Through it all the hobbit was out, seeming completely boneless, his breathing quite nasal and loud---something Elrond had indicated was normal after a seizure. Merry and Pippin sat nearby, watching, while Sam busied himself with getting the hot water bottles and finding something clean for Frodo to wear.
"It is fortunate that young Master Baggins is asleep," Arwen commented as she ran the cloth over Frodo's pale cheekbones and gently wiped the curves of his delicate pointed ears. "Otherwise our moving him would most assuredly cause him pain."
Aragorn nodded, trying to keep hold of a small slippery hand, which was quite a challenge. Inwardly he was thinking to himself that if he ever had children with Arwen, he hoped she would do the bathing, but of course he would never voice that to his beloved . . . "Indeed. But as soon as your father arrives with the treacle, we will regret it. We shall have to coax him to take it unconscious."
The two finished silently as Sam came up behind them. "Mr. Frodo's got no clean nightshirts to wear, Strider. He must have gone through them all already."
"Very well---he can go without for a while. It will be easier on him that way anyway---no jostling him about as we attempt to dress him."
Making certain Frodo was well dried off, Arwen lifted him while the others removed the towels from underneath. The hobbit was tucked back into bed on his side with hot water bottles and covered with clean sheets and blankets, his leg again protected from the pressure of blankets by the use of pillows.
"You're going to just leave poor Frodo naked?" Pippin asked, never one for delicacy, as he watched his cousin curl up and snuggle down into his sheets. "I do hope I am never ill and must be healed by any of you---I do have some dignity I would like to retain."
The others stared at him, shaking their heads---Merry nearly guffawing---as they settled in for another vigil. Bilbo wanted to be close to Frodo, so Aragorn boosted him up onto the bed. Once there, the old hobbit sat close to his heir, rubbing Frodo's shoulder and smoothing his hair, until just minutes later he himself nodded off, asleep.
To be continued