FIC: THE PINE-WOODS EXCURSION, PART 14/?
AUTHOR: Lily Baggins
RATING: PG-13
Disclaimers. The usual. I make no money off of this and do not own these characters, much to my chagrin. They belong to Tolkien Enterprises and New Line Productions, and I only give them interesting---and usually unpleasant---ways to spend their time. I'm sure I don't have to tell you that all medical treatments contained herein are purely for entertainment value and are not meant to replace professional medical advice.
***
Gandalf stole to the side of Frodo's overly large bed and stood over it, smiling at the two hobbits sleeping there. Apparently Bilbo's exhaustion had finally caught up with him. He lay propped against the headboard, his head nodding even as his arms gently embraced Frodo, who was curled up close with his head pillowed on the old hobbit's stomach, his head rising up and down slightly with Bilbo's breathing.
In the corner, Merry, Pippin, and Sam were asleep on loungers and chairs that had been put into the room earlier. As for Frodo, he had been completely out of it for the past several hours or so, and Aragorn had spent the better part of an hour dosing him with the last of the treacle---prompting him to swallow while asleep---as well as much more of the re-hydration drink. Elrond had checked Frodo frequently and reported an improvement each time. The hobbit's temperature was coming up a bit and he even had a tiny bit of color in his cheeks---but, the elf-lord had warned, Frodo was still not out of the danger zone.
Frodo shivered and Gandalf gently tucked the blanket more tightly about the naked hobbit. At the movement Bilbo woke briefly and opened his eyes, confusion setting in for a moment until he looked at Gandalf and down at Frodo's curly head and realized where he was. He yawned, stretching his back a bit, causing Frodo to shift in his sleep. Gently Bilbo rubbed Frodo's back through the blankets.
"How is he doing, Gandalf? Has Elrond told you?"
"He is improving, my old friend." The wizard wiped down Frodo's brow with a clean cloth, frowning a bit. "Elrond seems quite hopeful that if there are no further complications, Frodo should recover."
Bilbo let out a sigh of relief. "Oh, praise Elbereth, Gandalf. I don't know what I'd do if anything untoward happened to the lad." He stopped as he saw the expression on the wizard's face. "What is it? What's wrong?"
Gandalf laid a hand on Frodo's forehead, frowning. "His temperature has been coming up----a good sign, according to Elrond---but now he seems a bit too warm, I should think." The wizard folded the covers back a bit to dab at Frodo's chest with the cloth and stopped.
Bilbo leaned forward, peering at a few pink raised areas of skin on Frodo's otherwise pale torso and neck. "Gandalf, what is that?"
"It appears to be a rash of some sort." He sighed. "Yet another complication. That's all he needs."
***
"It is a serum illness---a reaction to the treacle compound," Elrond confirmed as he sat on the edge of Frodo's bed. "The reaction itself is rarely life-threatening and is normal, but it usually occurs much later than this. At any rate, we shall have to hope that the treacle we have given him already will be sufficient. To give him more might throw his system into shock."
Standing next to the bed with Gandalf, Aragorn shook his head. "Elrond, I do not entirely understand. A reaction such as this usually takes place many days or even weeks after the substance is given." As soon as he spoke, realization dawned. "Ah, now I see. We gave him a compound extremely similar to the treacle when he was ill with his Morgul wound. That is why this has manifested so soon."
Impatient, Bilbo cut in. "So what does that mean? No more of the medicine? How will he get better?" There were practically tears in the old hobbit's eyes as he continued to hold Frodo, stroking his dark hair. On the other side of the bed, the three other hobbits listened, their eyes wide with fear.
"I believe he will pull through with no difficulties, Master Bilbo," Elrond told him with a smile. "We had planned to give him no more treacle unless the situation was dire, and he was able to keep down Aragorn's last dose. The next hour or two will tell us much. And we shall have to watch that fever and the hives, which will make him quite uncomfortable."
For the next hour and a half they waited anxiously. Finally, after a routine examination, the elf-lord sat on the edge of the bed and laid his hands on his patient's forehead, concentrating, before opening his eyes again and smiling.
"The poison within his system is disappearing," he told them, to a chorus of relieved sighs. "He will recover with no lasting effects, provided he does not overdo it and convalesces slowly. He will still be ill and will have to stay in bed for many days, but he will be fine."
Coming to wakefulness and vaguely realizing he was being discussed, Frodo blinked, his leg throbbing, and moaned. His head was pillowed on something soft. A person, it felt like.
"Frodo, my lad?" Bilbo's voice, from above his head. Ah, that was it. He was lying cuddled up next to Bilbo, and it was a very nice feeling, although he wondered if a hobbit of his age should be beyond needing such comfort. The first thing he was aware of was that he felt a great deal better---the terrible pain and nausea seemed to have abated for the most part. The second thing he noticed, with some embarrassment, was that he was totally naked under the bedclothes.
A masculine voice entered his thoughts and he blinked again to see that Elrond was sitting next to him, and Aragorn, Gandalf, Sam, Merry, and Pippin were standing behind him. "Well, Master Baggins," Elrond said, smiling, "it seems you have once again outsmarted the poison of an enemy. You should make a complete recovery. Even your leg is looking very well, although it will still be swollen and cause you pain for a good while. Can you tell me how you are feeling?"
Frodo tried to speak, realizing with some surprise that the numbness in his face was gone and the most unpleasant tingling in his fingers and toes seemed to have disappeared. He felt slightly flushed, but wasn't complaining.
"Better," he answered weakly. "The . . . bad pain is gone. I feel . . . better." And with that he drifted back to sleep, thinking as he did of little Mosco Burrows, who had not been as fortunate.
***
"Frodo?"
Aragorn gingerly sat on the bed next to the restless hobbit. Bilbo had retired to his room for some much-needed sleep and they had placed Frodo on his back for a change of position. His leg was much improved, but still had to be protected from the bedclothes. Indeed, the hobbit looked much better and the profuse sweating had halted a bit, although the color in his cheeks was rapidly giving over to fever-flush.
Aragorn felt Frodo's brow, noting that his temperature was rising, and moved the blankets aside to gauge the spread of the rash. It appeared to have indeed grown worse, and the hobbit was squirming a bit as his skin itched.
"Frodo?"
Opening his eyes all the way, Frodo sighed. He'd been awake off and on for the past hour, feeling too hot and itchy to sleep well. "Mmmm?" he answered, too tired to form a coherent word.
"You need to drink this, Frodo . . . it's broth. You have not eaten anything substantial in days---now that your stomach is recovering I would like for you to try some of this for me. In a bit I will also have some raspberry tea to help the fever and itching and something to help you rest." Without waiting for an answer, the ranger gently settled himself on the bed, figuring he might as well get comfortable because this was likely to take some time. Lifting Frodo's shoulders, he carefully leaned the hobbit back against his chest and began spooning the broth into him. For once Frodo didn't protest, although his progress was slow.
The activity in the room woke the other three hobbits, who at once came to the bedside to visit. Earlier, after a good meal, made jovial by the knowledge that Frodo would recover, the three had headed back to Frodo's room for another nap. Pippin had wanted to lay on the bed with Frodo, but Merry had told him sternly that "any rough jostling will surely pain Frodo's leg and if you so much as cause him to squeak, Pip, I'll have your hide."
So the youngest hobbit contented himself with kissing Frodo's brow and apologizing for the fact that Frodo was still unclothed. "I tried to get them to put a Big Person's nightshirt on you, but they'd have none of it, cousin. Just so you know I had nothing to do with it."
Frodo smiled around his spoonful of broth, and the three younger hobbits talked softly to him, pleased that their cousin and friend was once again fairly lucid. After a while, it was clear that Frodo was growing tired and they went back to their respective places in the room to nap a bit.
"Well, little one, you finished more of this broth than I thought you would," Aragorn told Frodo as he eased off the bed and resettled the hobbit comfortably. Now they needed to sponge him down with a wash of burdock and goldenseal root, perhaps, to lower his fever and ease the skin irritation at the same time. "Rest," Aragorn told him, planning to consult with Elrond briefly to determine the best course of action. "I'll bring back the tea in a while---it will ease your aches and put you to sleep."
But a moment later, the door opened and Arwen entered with several boxes and bottles of herbal concoctions. She smiled at all four hobbits and easily kissed Aragorn before setting her burdens down on the bedside table.
"Father sent me with specific instructions for taking care of our Ring-bearer," she told the ranger, and Aragorn nodded, relieved that his foster-father was thinking ahead. "A sponge bath and rubdown, he thinks, will help immensely."
"I will leave Frodo in your capable hands for a bit, then, while I go and prepare his medicine," he said, and with a gentle smoothing of Frodo's bangs, he turned and left the room.
To be continued
AUTHOR: Lily Baggins
RATING: PG-13
Disclaimers. The usual. I make no money off of this and do not own these characters, much to my chagrin. They belong to Tolkien Enterprises and New Line Productions, and I only give them interesting---and usually unpleasant---ways to spend their time. I'm sure I don't have to tell you that all medical treatments contained herein are purely for entertainment value and are not meant to replace professional medical advice.
***
Gandalf stole to the side of Frodo's overly large bed and stood over it, smiling at the two hobbits sleeping there. Apparently Bilbo's exhaustion had finally caught up with him. He lay propped against the headboard, his head nodding even as his arms gently embraced Frodo, who was curled up close with his head pillowed on the old hobbit's stomach, his head rising up and down slightly with Bilbo's breathing.
In the corner, Merry, Pippin, and Sam were asleep on loungers and chairs that had been put into the room earlier. As for Frodo, he had been completely out of it for the past several hours or so, and Aragorn had spent the better part of an hour dosing him with the last of the treacle---prompting him to swallow while asleep---as well as much more of the re-hydration drink. Elrond had checked Frodo frequently and reported an improvement each time. The hobbit's temperature was coming up a bit and he even had a tiny bit of color in his cheeks---but, the elf-lord had warned, Frodo was still not out of the danger zone.
Frodo shivered and Gandalf gently tucked the blanket more tightly about the naked hobbit. At the movement Bilbo woke briefly and opened his eyes, confusion setting in for a moment until he looked at Gandalf and down at Frodo's curly head and realized where he was. He yawned, stretching his back a bit, causing Frodo to shift in his sleep. Gently Bilbo rubbed Frodo's back through the blankets.
"How is he doing, Gandalf? Has Elrond told you?"
"He is improving, my old friend." The wizard wiped down Frodo's brow with a clean cloth, frowning a bit. "Elrond seems quite hopeful that if there are no further complications, Frodo should recover."
Bilbo let out a sigh of relief. "Oh, praise Elbereth, Gandalf. I don't know what I'd do if anything untoward happened to the lad." He stopped as he saw the expression on the wizard's face. "What is it? What's wrong?"
Gandalf laid a hand on Frodo's forehead, frowning. "His temperature has been coming up----a good sign, according to Elrond---but now he seems a bit too warm, I should think." The wizard folded the covers back a bit to dab at Frodo's chest with the cloth and stopped.
Bilbo leaned forward, peering at a few pink raised areas of skin on Frodo's otherwise pale torso and neck. "Gandalf, what is that?"
"It appears to be a rash of some sort." He sighed. "Yet another complication. That's all he needs."
***
"It is a serum illness---a reaction to the treacle compound," Elrond confirmed as he sat on the edge of Frodo's bed. "The reaction itself is rarely life-threatening and is normal, but it usually occurs much later than this. At any rate, we shall have to hope that the treacle we have given him already will be sufficient. To give him more might throw his system into shock."
Standing next to the bed with Gandalf, Aragorn shook his head. "Elrond, I do not entirely understand. A reaction such as this usually takes place many days or even weeks after the substance is given." As soon as he spoke, realization dawned. "Ah, now I see. We gave him a compound extremely similar to the treacle when he was ill with his Morgul wound. That is why this has manifested so soon."
Impatient, Bilbo cut in. "So what does that mean? No more of the medicine? How will he get better?" There were practically tears in the old hobbit's eyes as he continued to hold Frodo, stroking his dark hair. On the other side of the bed, the three other hobbits listened, their eyes wide with fear.
"I believe he will pull through with no difficulties, Master Bilbo," Elrond told him with a smile. "We had planned to give him no more treacle unless the situation was dire, and he was able to keep down Aragorn's last dose. The next hour or two will tell us much. And we shall have to watch that fever and the hives, which will make him quite uncomfortable."
For the next hour and a half they waited anxiously. Finally, after a routine examination, the elf-lord sat on the edge of the bed and laid his hands on his patient's forehead, concentrating, before opening his eyes again and smiling.
"The poison within his system is disappearing," he told them, to a chorus of relieved sighs. "He will recover with no lasting effects, provided he does not overdo it and convalesces slowly. He will still be ill and will have to stay in bed for many days, but he will be fine."
Coming to wakefulness and vaguely realizing he was being discussed, Frodo blinked, his leg throbbing, and moaned. His head was pillowed on something soft. A person, it felt like.
"Frodo, my lad?" Bilbo's voice, from above his head. Ah, that was it. He was lying cuddled up next to Bilbo, and it was a very nice feeling, although he wondered if a hobbit of his age should be beyond needing such comfort. The first thing he was aware of was that he felt a great deal better---the terrible pain and nausea seemed to have abated for the most part. The second thing he noticed, with some embarrassment, was that he was totally naked under the bedclothes.
A masculine voice entered his thoughts and he blinked again to see that Elrond was sitting next to him, and Aragorn, Gandalf, Sam, Merry, and Pippin were standing behind him. "Well, Master Baggins," Elrond said, smiling, "it seems you have once again outsmarted the poison of an enemy. You should make a complete recovery. Even your leg is looking very well, although it will still be swollen and cause you pain for a good while. Can you tell me how you are feeling?"
Frodo tried to speak, realizing with some surprise that the numbness in his face was gone and the most unpleasant tingling in his fingers and toes seemed to have disappeared. He felt slightly flushed, but wasn't complaining.
"Better," he answered weakly. "The . . . bad pain is gone. I feel . . . better." And with that he drifted back to sleep, thinking as he did of little Mosco Burrows, who had not been as fortunate.
***
"Frodo?"
Aragorn gingerly sat on the bed next to the restless hobbit. Bilbo had retired to his room for some much-needed sleep and they had placed Frodo on his back for a change of position. His leg was much improved, but still had to be protected from the bedclothes. Indeed, the hobbit looked much better and the profuse sweating had halted a bit, although the color in his cheeks was rapidly giving over to fever-flush.
Aragorn felt Frodo's brow, noting that his temperature was rising, and moved the blankets aside to gauge the spread of the rash. It appeared to have indeed grown worse, and the hobbit was squirming a bit as his skin itched.
"Frodo?"
Opening his eyes all the way, Frodo sighed. He'd been awake off and on for the past hour, feeling too hot and itchy to sleep well. "Mmmm?" he answered, too tired to form a coherent word.
"You need to drink this, Frodo . . . it's broth. You have not eaten anything substantial in days---now that your stomach is recovering I would like for you to try some of this for me. In a bit I will also have some raspberry tea to help the fever and itching and something to help you rest." Without waiting for an answer, the ranger gently settled himself on the bed, figuring he might as well get comfortable because this was likely to take some time. Lifting Frodo's shoulders, he carefully leaned the hobbit back against his chest and began spooning the broth into him. For once Frodo didn't protest, although his progress was slow.
The activity in the room woke the other three hobbits, who at once came to the bedside to visit. Earlier, after a good meal, made jovial by the knowledge that Frodo would recover, the three had headed back to Frodo's room for another nap. Pippin had wanted to lay on the bed with Frodo, but Merry had told him sternly that "any rough jostling will surely pain Frodo's leg and if you so much as cause him to squeak, Pip, I'll have your hide."
So the youngest hobbit contented himself with kissing Frodo's brow and apologizing for the fact that Frodo was still unclothed. "I tried to get them to put a Big Person's nightshirt on you, but they'd have none of it, cousin. Just so you know I had nothing to do with it."
Frodo smiled around his spoonful of broth, and the three younger hobbits talked softly to him, pleased that their cousin and friend was once again fairly lucid. After a while, it was clear that Frodo was growing tired and they went back to their respective places in the room to nap a bit.
"Well, little one, you finished more of this broth than I thought you would," Aragorn told Frodo as he eased off the bed and resettled the hobbit comfortably. Now they needed to sponge him down with a wash of burdock and goldenseal root, perhaps, to lower his fever and ease the skin irritation at the same time. "Rest," Aragorn told him, planning to consult with Elrond briefly to determine the best course of action. "I'll bring back the tea in a while---it will ease your aches and put you to sleep."
But a moment later, the door opened and Arwen entered with several boxes and bottles of herbal concoctions. She smiled at all four hobbits and easily kissed Aragorn before setting her burdens down on the bedside table.
"Father sent me with specific instructions for taking care of our Ring-bearer," she told the ranger, and Aragorn nodded, relieved that his foster-father was thinking ahead. "A sponge bath and rubdown, he thinks, will help immensely."
"I will leave Frodo in your capable hands for a bit, then, while I go and prepare his medicine," he said, and with a gentle smoothing of Frodo's bangs, he turned and left the room.
To be continued