CHAPTER 8

"Well, bless you, Mr Bilbo, but is sounds to me like yer doin' fine," announced Bel.

Bilbo was sitting at her kitchen table, head in hands. "Bel, I've never had to look after anyone before, never mind a tweenager. What if I do something wrong and make him worse?"

"You'll be alright. Nursin' is five parts common sense, three parts experience and two parts talent. As far as I can see that puts you at least half way there. Only thing you've got to watch with a fever is not to let him get too chilled. He'll probably sweat a lot and if he does you'll need to change his nightshirt and linens to keep him comfortable. Sponging him down with warm water when you change him will make him feel a bit better but make sure the water isn't too hot or too cold."

Bilbo began to feel a little better. He could do all this. "Thank you, Bel."

"You're welcome. I went through exactly what you're goin' through when my first young 'un got sick. I coped and so will you."

Bilbo stood up. "I'd best be getting back. That tea should be steeped by now."

Just as he was about to leave, Bel called caught his arm. "One thing. If he starts soundin' a bit out of his head come and get one of my young 'uns to fetch the doctor. And if you're stuck for laundry just send your sheets and things down to me."

"I will. And thank you again, Bel."

As he entered Bag End, via the kitchen door, he could hear Frodo coughing loudly. Too loudly. Bilbo realised that the sound was coming, not from the bedroom but from the hallway. Even as he headed for the door into the hall he heard a moan and then the sound of something heavy falling. Bilbo felt as though his heart was pumping ice water as he ran into the hall.

Lying face down on the floor, just beyond the kitchen door, was Frodo. Bilbo knelt down and lifted the tweenager's head onto his lap. Dark lashes were set firmly on pale cheeks, with no flicker of movement behind the closed lids. Dark curls were made darker still by perspiration and the only colour in the pale face was a red nose and two pink blotches on his cheeks. His breathing was rapid and shallow, each breath was accompanied by a loud rattle and the nightshirt clung damply to his chest and back.

Remembering Bel's warning about not letting him get chilled, Bilbo gently lifted Frodo in to his arms and carried him back to bed. There he covered him while he fetched warm water, towels, fresh linens and a dry nightshirt. By the time he had organised all this, Frodo's eyes were beginning to flutter and the older hobbit arrived at his bedside in time to be the first thing that the lad focussed on.

On waking, Frodo drew a deep breath and immediately started coughing again. Bilbo helped him sit up and rubbed his back until the hacking died down, leaving the tweenager hanging on to his uncle's arm and leaning against his shoulder for support.

"'m…..sorry, Bilbo." Frodo mumbled. He was so exhausted that he seemed to be only half aware of his surroundings.

"Nothing to apologise for, Frodo. Whatever were you doing out of bed anyway?" As he spoke he was unfastening his nephew's sodden nightshirt and Frodo put up no resistance as Bilbo stripped it off him.

"Needed to go to the privy………dizzy on the way back."

Bilbo shook his head. "I'm sorry, my lad. I should have been here. Let's get you cleaned up and change the linens, so you'll feel a bit more comfortable. I'll get you that tea soon."

Rolling the tweenager on to his side, Bilbo slipped two towels beneath him, and then rolled him back on to their thick absorbency. Wringing out a cloth in peppermint scented warm water he gently swabbed down the overheated body, rolling Frodo on to his side again the do the same for his back. Frodo sighed and closed his eyes at the comfort of his uncle's ministrations. Under other circumstances he would have been horrified at being babied so, but now it just felt so good…..

When he had finished, Bilbo dried him, rubbed more of the peppermint and lavender ointment on to his nephew's chest and dressed him in a fresh nightshirt.

"Frodo? Stay awake a little longer for me, lad." Frodo's eyelids slid up and he gazed up into his uncle's concerned face.

"Tired……." He murmured.

"I know, lad. But I need you to sit in a chair for a while, so that I can change the linens, and then you have to drink your medicine. Come on now." So saying, he wrapped Frodo closely in his quilt and carried him to the armchair by the fire. Frodo nestled his head against the high wing of the chair back and revelled in the temporary relief from coughing that the ointment brought.

Bilbo stripped and remade the bed as quickly as he could, then collected his drowsy nephew and set him back in to it, using extra pillows to prop him in a semi-reclining position to ease his breathing. He became a little worried that Frodo would sleep before he could administer the nettle tea. It was good that the tweenager was more relaxed but if he did not get the tea down him he would awake later with no improvement.

He hurried from the room, taking the sheets with him and making a mental tally of the number of changes of linen he owned.

When he returned, a few minutes later, Frodo was asleep, looking so peaceful that he did not wake him to drink the medicinal tea.

It was several hours before he woke again and evening had drawn in. Once more it was the coughing that awoke him. When he had it under control Bilbo picked up the cooled nettle tea.

"I'm sorry. I know you're tired, but once you've drunk this you can go back to sleep." He put the cup to Frodo's lips. The tweenager grimaced and pulled back sharply, the action setting him coughing again, and Bilbo had to hold him until the fit passed; leaving the lad spent and perspiring once more. His uncle settled him back, hardly daring to meet the accusing eyes that stared up at him.

"Can't, Bilbo…." He whimpered.

Bilbo felt as though his heart would break. He knew that the nettle tea smelled awful and tasted worse but he also knew that it had to be taken.

"I am truly sorry, Frodo, but you must take it. It will ease the congestion. Would it help if I held your nose?" It was the best suggestion he could come up with, although his nephew's nose was so bunged up anyway that he doubted whether it would make any difference.

Frodo sighed, and a tear snaked its way out from the corner of one eye and slid slowly down his cheek. Bilbo watched, helplessly, as the tweenager fought to control the tremor of his bottom lip. Finally, Frodo swallowed.

"It's alright, Bilbo. I'll try again."

Bilbo struggled with his own tears as he brought the cup to Frodo's mouth again and trickled a little of the vile liquid between his cracked lips. Frodo clamped his mouth shut to stop himself spitting it out in reflex and swallowed, whimpering again as he finally managed to get rid of it. Bilbo let him rest for a few moments before trying once more. Frodo opened his mouth, obediently and went through the same procedure again, this time ending up trapped in another bout of coughing. His uncle could not find it in his heart to force any more on him.

Dabbing at the tweenager's face with a damp cloth, he watched as fatigue claimed him and Frodo sank in to sleep. The room was quiet, except for the sound of Frodo's ragged breathing and, once the tweenager's eyes were firmly closed, Bilbo gave in to his own tears.

Throughout the long night Bilbo sat at the bedside. Every couple of hours Frodo would awaken with a terrible cough and Bilbo would soothe him as best he could but the lad seemed to grow worse and worse. With the coming of the dawn, Bilbo decided that it was time to call the doctor. Surely the lad should not be suffering so with a cold?

Bilbo had done all he knew how and still there was no sign of improvement in Frodo's condition. The lad had been suffering for only a few hours but to his new carer, in the dark isolation of the night, it seemed like an eternity.