Author Notes: shirebound – I'm updating again! Yay! *throws flowers around* You're so welcome! Butterfly – (or shall I say 'Boof'? *grins evilly* You know what I mean…) No French this time. Suffice to say – love you always! you're the best! Mish – complications you shall have! I just can't stop this story, I love it too much! Ah, tu aimes le francais aussi? C'est vraiment la belle langue, pas italien. ^_^ tiggivon – I'm throwing everything I've got into this, I assure you. I'm so glad you like it so much! Soccer practice starts tomorrow, so I'll have less time to update, but I'll try and get chapter 16 up ASAP, promise. ^_^ Mistress-Samwise – oh, God. Don't tell me I changed your life. *hides behind computer* j/k! Wow, I inspired you? I'm honored. *blushes* I'll be cheering for your story all the way, I promise, the way you cheered for mine! Love you, girl! Tigrin – Sam will be okay, but there's major pain for him in this chapter. *pulls out tissues and weeps* My poor Sam, how could I do this to him? But it's alright, he'll get better. IloveSam – a whole week without you? *faints* Well, read and review soon as you get back, 'K? Love you all! Read on!
« My baby ! » Bell Gamgee cried, holding out her arms for Sam. Frodo hesitated for a fraction of a second before handing him to her. S' alright, Sam. She's got you. ~ Don't you leave me, Sam said. Frodo laughed shortly. I have no intention of leaving you. Bell was stroking Sam's hair.
« Goodness, child, you're soaked to the bone. And you, too, Frodo, » she said, turning to the teenager standing at her side. Frodo shrugged with what he hoped was nonchalance, but the gesture didn't carry, because in a moment he was bent double, coughing himself sick. He felt Bilbo's hands on his shoulders and pounding him on the back. With a final cough, he gasped, and straightened.
Are you alright ? the thought was sharp with urgency. He turned to the child in Bell's arms, and nodded. The adults looked at one another, confused, and Bell shifted Sam to balance him against her hip. He shrieked with pain, and she almost dropped him in her surprise.
« Samwise, what's wrong ? » she asked.
« Frodo ? » said Bilbo, alarmed. At Sam's cry, suffocating blackness had covered his mind and a wrenching pain had twisted his leg. He gasped, and staggered, clinging to the wall for support. For several moments, he couldn't think at all. Then the blackness faded, and he dimly heard Sam weeping. The mist dissolved, and he returned to Sam's side.
« Don't do that, Mistress, » he said emphatically. Bell had seen Sam's injury, and turned to him for an explanation.
« What happened ? » she asked. Hamfast had said only that he was hurt, but neither how nor how badly. Frodo held out his arms and took Sam from her before she could protest. Sam whimpered softly and pressed close to Frodo, who kissed his hair and held him tight. « Frodo-lad, what happened ? » Bell asked again. « What happened to my son ? »
Frodo hesitated. « There was an accident – he – he tripped… I think his ankle's broken, and that stone's been there as long, » he said. Shhh, little one. Calm down, you're hurting me. Sam hiccuped and stopped abruptly. But it hurts, it *hurts*…~ I know. S' alright, we're home now.
Bell raised her brows. « And where was it you were going so fast that he tripped and broke his ankle ? »
« We were running from the lightning, » Frodo said simply. A wave of dizziness made him sway, and Bilbo reached out an arm to steady him. « I think – I think I need to sit down… » Frodo said.
« Alright, lad, alright. » Bilbo led him to the kitchen and he sat down heavily on a chair by the stove, Sam still in his arms. Oh, it feels good to be warm, he thought, and felt Sam's agreement. In a few moments, a large pool of water had formed round them and was spreading rapidly over the flagstone floor. Bell, the capable mother, took matters firmly in hand.
« First things first – you need to get dry, » she said. « Master Bilbo, have you any towels ? »
« In the bathroom, I'll go get them, » answered Bilbo.
« Get some for yourself and my husband as well, » she called after him. « You're as bad as the boys. » Turning back to Sam and Frodo, she continued. « Then you both need hot – very hot – baths, or you'll catch pneumonia. Assuming you haven't already. »
« But Mistress, his ankle's broken. It needs to be set before any of this is done, » Frodo protested as Bilbo came back with the towels.
« Husband, I brought thee a change of clothes they're in the guest-room, » Bell said. Hamfast nodded and walked off, and Bilbo went to his own room to change. « Lad, you're right, his ankle needs setting. But if he doesn't get out of those clothes, an' you out of yours, an' quick, we'll have worse problems than broken ankles on our hands. Ain't no one ever died of a broken ankle. I've known quite a few who died of pneumonia, » she said. « Now dry off. »
Frodo smiled at her motherly tone, thinking of times his own mother had dried him off after swimming in the river or playing in the rain. Alright, Sam. Hold on. He stood up carefully and set Sam on the table, with his legs dangling. Then, laying his backpack on the chair, he stripped to his breeches, letting his drenched cloak, tunic and sash drop to the floor, unheeded. Quickly drying himself off, he laid his towel on the table and turned to Sam. Now you, he thought.
Sam was already untying his sash, and pulled his tunic over his head, mussing his dripping locks even further. He looked very young and very sweet as he sat there, a little boy in his breeches. Frodo kissed him impulsively and took the dry towel. Hold still, he ordered, and began to dry Sam off, starting first with his hair and then working his way down. Laughter tingled in his mind again, like the chiming of small and far-off silver bells. That tickles, Sam protested. Frodo smiled. « Oh, it does, does it ? » he asked aloud. Bell, who was gathering up the wet clothes from the floor, paused and looked at them curiously. Neither of them noticed her, but she saw the sudden changes in their eyes and their faces. As though they were talking, she thought wonderingly. Oh, nonsense. They're doing no such thing. You just didn't hear him, is all. She took the clothes to the bathroom and wrung them out in the tub, marveling at the vast amounts of water two cotton tunics and one woolen cloak could hold.
In the kitchen, Frodo had reached Sam's knees. He stopped there for the right leg and continued drying the left. I'm afraid to touch your other leg, he explained. I don't want to hurt you. Sam nodded. « Mistress ? » Frodo called. « We're done. » Bell came back in, drying her hands.
« So you are, lad, » she said.
« They are what ? » asked Bilbo as he and Hamfast reentered the room.
« Dry, » Bell answered.
« Good ! » said Bilbo. « Frodo, you go hop in the bath while we put Sam's ankle to rights. » Frodo crossed his arms in front of his chest. « No, » he said.
« Cousin, this is not the time to be unreasonable, » Bilbo said, exasperated. « Now go get in the bath. » Frodo lifted his chin and stood his ground, his eyes dark and determined.
« No, » he said again. « I won't leave him. »
« I need him, sir, » Sam said softly. The adults turned to him, surprised. The child held their gazes and repeated himself. « I need him. » Bilbo threw up his hands in defeat.
« You two are impossible, » he muttered beneath his breath. « Alright, then. I suppose the kitchen is as good a place as any. Bell, what shall we do ? » he asked. She was already gathering things and placing them on the counters. Bell had a cousin who was a healer-woman, and many a practical thing had she learned from her. Towels, bowls, bandages, hot and cold compresses, boiling water, brandy, and – most especially – herbs. Herbs for cleansing and disinfecting, herbs for healing, and herbs to ease the pain. All these Bell laid out on the counters, and last of all, she took from the rack by the sink a small, sharp knife, which she sterilized in the boiling water.
A wave of sick, dark fear washed over Frodo and Samwise as they saw the light flash on the steel. She's not actually going to *use* that, is she ? Frodo thought, horrified. Sam's eyes were wide and wary, and he looked at his mother in sick disbelief. Bell saw her son's face and knew his thoughts. Placing the knife on the table, she walked over to him.
« Samwise, love. » He looked at her, mistrustful. « Sam, the knife is only in case the rock won't come out on its own. An' I'm sure it will. I'll do everything I have to before I use that knife, son. I promise, » she said, touching her forehead to his. She will, Sam, Frodo said. Sam's glance flicked his way, and dark uncertainty reached his mind. Believe her, Sam. She won't hurt you if she doesn't have to, Frodo said. The uncertainty lingered a moment before dissipating. Sam nodded.
« Alright, » he whispered.
« Bell, lass ? What d'you want us to do ? » Hamfast asked.
« Hold things and hand me things, love, » she answered. « Frodo, you'll comfort him ? »
« Naturally, Mistress, » said Frodo, rather indignant at the question.
« Alright, then… His leg's what's hurting, so he doesn't have to be lying down. Sam, if you could sit up with your back against Frodo an' your legs on the table… » Sam hesitated. Help, he said softly. Frodo placed his arm under Sam's knees and gently lifted him so the child's legs were on the table rather than hanging over the edge. Hold on tight one, two, three – he carefully placed Sam down again. Sam whimpered when his injured foot touched the hard wood, and red streaked through Frodo's mind. Shhh…he soothed. The redness ebbed, and Frodo kissed Sam's hair. Good lad. He set his hands on Sam's shoulders, letting them rest there a moment before slowly slipping his arms around Sam's waist. The child leaned back against him and took his hand, holding it lightly in his small one.
« Alright, » Bell said again, speaking quietly to herself. « That stone is the first thing to take care of. Husband, hold this bowl 'neath his foot – yeah, that's good. Master Bilbo, if you'll just hold these towels till I need 'em… » Pulling up a chair, she sat down and reaching out, took hold of Sam's foot. The boy made a choking sound, and Frodo felt dizzy with pain, but Sam didn't scream. « Good boy, » Bell congratulated him, smiling but Frodo saw the pain in her eyes. How hard must it be for her to hurt her favorite child ? he wondered. It's almost as bad for her as it is for him and me.
Before the pain had fully receded, Bell set to work. « I'm going as fast as I can, » she reassured them, but to both it seemed an age. The stone was firmly driven up into his small foot, and it was no easy task to remove it. Don't let her use the knife, please don't let her use the knife, Frodo prayed. Sam's thoughts were a storm of blood and darkness, and he was gripping Frodo's hand so tightly Frodo was certain his fingers would break. But he was gripping Sam's just as tightly, and every shiver of pain that went through them made him clasp the child closer to himself. Shhh, little one, shhh, he thought, hoping with all his might that it would be over soon. How much worse it is for him, he knew, and the knowledge strengthened his resolve. He needs you, Frodo Baggins don't you faint on him now. He needs you.
« Why won't the wretched thing just come ? » Bell muttered fiercely. I will not use that knife, she thought. I won't, I won't, I *won't*. Anything before that. « Sam, love, I'm going to pull on this, and pull hard, alright ? » Sam just stared at her through a haze of pain and tears. She looked to Frodo. He had his arms tight around Sam and his cheek pressed to the top of Sam's head. His face was pale and tearstreaked and his breathing was uneven. At her words, he looked up, and his expression was the mirror of her son's. Again, she frowned at the strangeness between them before shaking her head. « Alright, lad ? Here I go, one, two, three – ! »
Sam didn't scream. He opened his mouth to, but pain had left him voiceless. So he sat bolt upright in Frodo's arms, his breath coming in short, breathless gasps. His eyes seemed huge, and the adults couldn't bear to look at him for the pain in his face. The stone had come out alright, landing with a 'thock' in the bowl Hamfast held. It was quickly submerged in the shining streams of blood that gushed from the wound. The small bowl filled quickly as Hamfast stood there, half-paralyzed with the horrible shock of watching his son's blood spill into a bowl, bright and red and warm.
« Master Bilbo, the towels ! » Bell cried, taking them from him and pressing them to the wound. The blood seeped quickly through the first one, but more slowly through the second. As Bell increased the pressure, the bleeding slowed further. After about fifteen minutes of watching the red stain spread across the white fabric, the wound was stanched. In all this time, the boys were absolutely still, barely breathing in their pain.
Now Bell was cleansing the wound, rinsing it first in warm water and then in the boiling water she had prepared. Neither of them noticed until she poured the brandy over it. It was fine brandy – Yale brandy, the finest made – and it had been aging for a while. At the fire in his veins, Sam found his voice and screamed himself voiceless again. Frodo gathered Sam into his arms and closed his eyes, rocking the child back and forth.
The agony of blackness that gripped Frodo's mind was too awful for description, and he was sure he would die from it all if it didn't end soon. Strong, you idiot, be strong ! he commanded himself over the screaming in his mind. It went on and on, all the pain in the world contained in a small boy's wordless cry. None of the adults tried to stop him, to hush him they knew it would be pointless. So for another quarter of an hour, Sam screamed, until his breathing caught, and he began to cough. And a deep, raw, wet cough it was, sending an insistent rumble through Frodo's own infected lungs. He too, began to cough, and the room was filled with the sound for another ten minutes. Bell, meanwhile, was bandaging her son's foot, winding the linen tightly around it and securing the ends.
Finally, with a last choking gasp that tore from their aching chests, they stopped and breathed. I am going to die, said his Elf-child bitterly. No, Sam, Frodo said. It just feels that way. But it'll be over soon, I promise you, and then they'll leave you alone. ~ You promise ? Sam asked. Cross my heart, answered Frodo, somehow moving his hand and making a cross in the air over his chest. See ? ~ Yes. Sam lay his head on Frodo's shoulder and closed his eyes.
« Tell me we're done, » he whispered hoarsely. The adults turned to eachother, tears in their eyes.
« No, lad, » Hamfast said. « There's still your ankle to tend to. » Sam opened his eyes for a moment and looked at his father.
« Daddy, don't hurt me, » he said, barely audible, but the look in his eyes would have said it for him. Hamfast's dark eyes met his son's and kneeling down so they'd be at eye level, he took his son's hand.
« I. Would never. Hurt you, » he said slowly. « Never. » Sam nodded.
« I know, » he whispered, and closed his eyes again, reassured. He had perfect faith in his father, and if Hamfast said he wouldn't hurt him, he wouldn't hurt him. Someone else, maybe, but not his father. His pain eased a little at the thought.
« Well, the ankle should be easier, » said Bilbo quietly. « I mean, all we have to do is bind it, not pull things out of it. »
« We'll see how easy it is, » said Bell dryly, laying her hand on Sam's head. « Baby, we're binding your ankle now. Alright ? » Sam nodded, the barest movement of his head. She turned to Frodo. « Put him back on the table, lad. » Frodo's thoughts were clouded with Sam's pain, but somehow he managed to follow her orders, placing Sam gently back on the hard wooden surface. Hold on, Samwise, hold on. They're almost done, they'll be done soon and they'll leave you alone, I promise, I promise…
Bell took up the roll of linen bandages again, and with a brief prayer for courage and quickness, stepped forward to her son. « Hamfast, hold his leg down, » she said. « Master Bilbo, if you'd be making a tea with that valerian… » Bilbo immediately set about it, glancing worriedly over his shoulder every few seconds. « Alright, » Bell whispered. « Just this, an' then the worst is over. » Hamfast held his son's leg straight, lifting it slightly above the table so his wife could wrap the bandage around the ankle.
Sam's slender ankle was terribly swollen, but it would have to be wrapped tightly if the bones were to heal correctly. Bell gently placed her hand on the blue-black bruise that covered the affected area, wincing herself at Sam's sharp breath. « Alright, baby, alright, » she murmured. « Hold still. » No need to tell him that, he didn't move at all. He and Frodo sat there perfectly still as shocked tears ran silently down their faces. For Frodo it was a torment, but for Sam it was a nightmare beyond all reckoning. When Bell pulled the cloth tight and his bones slid reluctantly into place again, merciful darkness rushed over him. Frodo swayed and then fainted dead away. Bilbo caught him before his head hit the hard flagstone floor.
« Brandy, » he called softly, and Hamfast handed it to him. He waved the open bottle under Frodo's nose and the teenager came to with a start. Sam, was his only thought and he stood quickly, still unsteady on his feet and went to Sam's side. Through the grey mists of unconsciousness, the blood-darkness still pulsed, but it no longer had such an effect on Frodo. He could think more clearly now, had he wanted to. He didn't want to. Sam, my Sam, my Elf-child. They're almost done, I promise, I promise, he repeated over and over. Finally, finally, Bell was finished. Yards and yards of stiff white linen had been wrapped as tightly as possible around the boy's ankle and over his foot and up almost to his knee.
« Sam ? Sam, baby, drink this, » Bell said softly as Sam returned slowly to consciousness. She held a mug to his lips of a strong bitter tea. It had valerian in it, and tincture of poppies to kill the pain. It tasted terrible, but a few minutes later, the pain receded. Sam's thoughts were clouded, but the pain had lessened, so he didn't care as he lay in Frodo's arms again. I don't feel so bad, now, he said, a little thickly. Frodo hugged him, and then a thought came to him.
« How're we going to bathe him ? » he asked. « With the bandage, I mean. Or even get his breeches off ? »
« The breeches'll come off easy. As for bathing him – I suppose we could wrap his leg in towels and try to keep it out of the water, » said Bell. « I'll take care of that. » Frodo was too tired to argue.
« Alright. Just so long as I can be in the same room, » he said.
« We wouldn't dream of separating you, Frodo, » Bilbo soothed. Another argument is the last thing we need, anyway. « I'll run those baths for you, Bell, » he said, and walked from the room.
« Clothes ! » said Hamfast suddenly. « I should go get him some. »
« He can borrow some of mine, » said Frodo.
« They'd be too big, » said Bell with a laugh. Frodo frowned at her.
« He can borrow mine, Mistress, » he repeated. And the matter was settled. Bell smiled at him.
« I can't tell you how we appreciate your steadying him, Frodo-lad. You're a good boy. A good friend to him, » she said. Frodo blushed and lowered his eyes.
« I only did what was needed, » he mumbled. Because I love you, he whispered to Sam. A faint flash of green reached him through the haze of the painkilling tea. I love you, too, the child replied, and Frodo smiled.
« Alright, the baths are ready ! » Bilbo said, stepping into the room
« Right, then, » said Frodo. « Off we go. » And, Bell following, he walked slowly down the hallways to the bathroom with his Elf-child heavy in his arms.
A/N : Next chapter – bath and bedtime. This long, long day is finally ending for our darling boys. Fortunately, this long, long story is not. They're sick, remember ? So they have to be sick together and get well together and then there'll be storytime ! *claps hands* Anything to keep this going. Review, my dear reviewers ! I love hearing from you !