Author Notes : I'm ba-ack… Sorry I took so long ! shirebound – I took your advice and got Mistress Bell. I'll take care of them, no fear ! And hey, I updated my Rohirrim story if you're interested. Thanks for reading it ! ^_^ TK – gushing is wonderful ! I wouldn't stop you for the world ! Sorry I took so long to update, I've been writing other things. tiggivon – yeah, I wanted to show how grief doesn't just magically disappear. I thought the funeral clothes would be something really angsty to do to Frodo glad you thought so, too. ^_^ Tigrin – consider yourself lucky. I've been hospitalized six times for pneumonia, and each time it started out as bronchitis. It majorly, majorly sucks. Butterfly – a boof in shock ! What do I do ? How do I save you ? Oh, dear, oh, dear – I know ! Have another chapter ! I'll mail you when my stupid mail-server is back up ('down for 24 hour maintenance' yeah right ! *grumbles* I hate computers) HappyBunny - *giggles* OhGreatest ? I like the title ! Mistress-Samwise – just saw your review for 'Because of You'. Awesome ! Attention, my loyal subjects ! I've just been crowned Queen of LotR fanfiction ! lol ! You can be my lady-in-waiting, alright ? ^_~ IloveSam – whew ! glad to know I'm back on track ^_^ I'm really sorry your grandma died. My condolences to you. *hands you a condolence and a cookie* So. Now they get to be sick together. (Awww…)
Bilbo was humming softly to himself as he set the table. He had laid out a veritable feast for the boys, and was feeling rather proud of his culinary efforts. Bilbo was an exceptional cook, and he had been up since dawn (dark and chill though it was) cooking up a storm for Frodo and Sam. Food's what they need. They have to keep their strength up, especially Samwise. Broken bones cause fevers and infections, which lead to all sorts of complications. And he's so young, he's just not strong enough for complications. Not to mention that 'complications' might be catching, and Frodo's not too strong, himself. With these thoughts firmly in mind, he laid an elaborate breakfast for them, completely clearing two of his pantries of food.
When Frodo and Sam appeared in the doorway, Bilbo just barely kept from exclaiming over Frodo's attire. With a supreme effort of will, he forced himself to look normal, as though completely unfazed by the fact that Frodo was wearing his funeral clothes. Frodo looked terrible, exceedingly pale with dark shadows under his eyes and a fever-bright glitter in them that did not bode well. The black fabric accentuated his extreme pallor, and his blue eyes seemed huge in his weary face. He looked as though he could fall asleep standing there, holding Sam. Sam, Bilbo noticed, was not pale, but flushed. His cheeks were burning scarlet, his eyes glazed with fever and heavy lidded with exhaustion. He was already half-asleep in Frodo's arms, his legs dangling. Bilbo saw a dark stain on the bandage round his foot – he had bled through it in the night. Oh, Valar defend us, he thought. Complications. With a forced smile, he spoke up.
« Good morning, lads ! » he said cheerfully, relieved that his voice was steady. « Sit down, sit down ! No, not there over here, by the stove. You need to keep warm. » He ushered them over to the chair at the long table closest to the stove, and pulled up another one for Frodo to set Sam on. Frodo sat, wearied by their short walk down the hall, and closed his eyes. I want to go back to bed, he thought to Sam. Sam had been eyeing the vast amount of food laid out for their consumption, and was beginning to feel a little panicked. I'm not even hungry ! he said to Frodo. How're we supposed to eat all this ?
Frodo opened his eyes, which widened dramatically when he saw just how much Bilbo had prepared for them. Oh, dear Eru ! he thought. I have no idea. He must think we're starving to death ! ~ Well, we have to eat it, don't we ? asked Sam. He went to all the trouble… The thought was tinged with dismay, and Frodo looked down at him, confused. What's wrong with eating it ? he asked. At least some of it, anyway. I don't think he'll make us eat it all. Sam sighed and closed his eyes. I just don't feel good, is all, he said. The poppy-tea had completely worn off, and the pain in his wounded limb was making him rather sick. The idea of eating so much food wasn't helping any, and he was doubly dismayed at feeling obliged to eat it. I don't want to throw up on him, he thought. Who ? Frodo asked. You, Sam replied. Or Master Bilbo. Or anybody. I don't want to throw up at all, but I will if I have to eat.
Frodo made a face at the idea of the little boy getting sick all over him. You know, Sam, I don't feel so good myself, he said, and it was true. He was dead tired and he hurt all over, and when he thought about it, he wasn't really hungry at all. True, he hadn't eaten since breakfast the day before, but he was so tired. All he wanted to do was sleep. Food could come later. And if eating was going to make Sam sick – well, then, that decided it. He loved Bilbo dearly, he really did, but he would rather disappoint his cousin than force his friend to eat. And he so wanted to go back to bed… I'll tell him we're just not hungry, alright ? « Alright, » Sam mumbled against his neck.
« What's that ? » asked Bilbo, thinking one of the boys was speaking to him. Frodo took the opportunity to present the problem. He cleared his throat.
« Nothing, cousin we're just… » here he lowered his eyes, embarrassed. « Well, this is all lovely and we do thank you for your troubles, but, well – we're just not hungry, you see. » He blushed, and bit his lip, looking up at Bilbo and feeling rather guilty and ungrateful. Bilbo, to Frodo's dismay, looked crestfallen, and he half-considered revoking the statement and eating anyway. Then Sam spoke up.
« We're sorry, sir, really, » he said softly. Bilbo managed a smile for him.
« It's perfectly alright, young Samwise, » he assured him. « But surely you could eat some of it ? You're both sick and you're injured, Sam. You need to keep your strength up. »
« That's just it, cousin, » said Frodo. « We're both sick. And being sick has rather killed our appetites, so to speak. » He was feeling even guiltier than before, and wishing hard that he could change it all and make it so they could appreciate Bilbo's efforts.
« Oh, just a little something, » Bilbo coaxed. I see the problem they don't feel well enough to eat much. Surely just a little something couldn't hurt…
« No, sir, » said Sam, « I can't. » Bilbo frowned.
« What do you mean, you can't ? Of course you can ! Here, I'll make up a plate for you – »
« No, sir ! » Sam said with more force. « I can't ! » Bilbo frowned again, perplexed. It wasn't like Sam to be so childish.
« Whyever not, Samwise ? » he asked. Sam laid his head on Frodo's shoulder and closed his eyes again. Frodo spoke for him.
« He'll be sick if he eats, » he explained. Bilbo looked at him skeptically.
« Neither of you have eaten since yesterday morning, » he said. « Sam just feels sick because he's so hungry. »
« No, cousin, » said Frodo, who was beginning to feel exasperated. « He feels sick because he's in pain. If you make him eat, he'll throw up. I guarantee it. »
« Oh, nonsense, » Bilbo began.
« No, sir, not nonsense ! » said Sam, lifting his head and looking at him again. « Please, Master Bilbo, I know you went to all th' trouble of makin' this, an' I'm grateful, truly sir. But I can't eat, I just can't. Please don't make me, » he said, his tired eyes wide and a bit pleading.
« Please, Bilbo, » said Frodo plaintively. « You'll just make him miserable. Please. » Bilbo sighed and relented.
« Alright, lad, alright. I won't make you do anything. Nor you, Frodo. But tell me – what am I supposed to do with all this food ? » he asked.
« Sam's family would appreciate it, I'm sure, » said Frodo, who was standing to go, one arm around Sam and the other against the edge of the table, supporting him. « We're going back to bed, » he said tiredly. « Sorry for making you go to all this trouble, but… » he shrugged. Bilbo patted him on the shoulder.
« Not at all, Frodo. Think nothing of it, » he said, though still rather disappointed. « You go get some rest, now. The Father knows, you need it. » Frodo smiled weakly, and Bilbo was again struck by just how pale he was. Too pale, too tired. And his eyes glitter too much and too brightly. He shook his head, worried, as he watched Frodo walk back down the halls, Sam still in his arms. Sick because he's in pain, he said. I should make him some more of that tea…
Once back in their room, Frodo set Sam on the bed and built up the fire again until the chill was taken from the room. He almost fell asleep, crouching there by the fireplace, feeding kindling to the flames. The warmth of the fire, the smell of the burning wood, and the quiet crackle of the flames all served to lull him into a semi-conscious state from which he would not have awakened had it not been for the sudden cramps in legs. I should stand up, he told himself, and forced himself to do so. Turning, he saw his Elf-child curled up on the bed, already fast asleep. He smiled and climbed up onto the bed beside him. Sam did not waken as Frodo lifted him carefully and pulled the covers over them both. Pretty boy, Frodo thought affectionately, and kissed his soft golden hair. Such a pretty boy… and with that, he fell asleep.
~*~*~*~*~*~*
Bilbo threw on his cloak and walked down the Hill through the rain to #3 Bagshot Row. He knocked on the door, and Bell opened it.
« Master Bilbo ! » she exclaimed. « What – I mean, why – well, that is to say – »
« They're alright, Bell, » he reassured her, and she relaxed. « I'm only here to ask if you would have breakfast with me. You and your family, of course. » Bell looked surprised.
« That would be lovely, sir. I'll get the others. Come in, come in ! » she said, but Bilbo shook his head.
« I'll meet you up at the house, » he said, and smiling, walked away.
Ten minutes later, there came a knock at the door, and opening it, he found seven rather wet but cheerfully smiling Gamgees. « Good morning ! » he greeted them. « Come in, before you're all drowned. » He ushered them in and they removed their cloaks and hung them up, following him into the kitchen and looking somewhat bemused. None of them had any idea what this was about, as it wasn't often Bilbo had invited them to his table. Coming into the kitchen and seeing the enormous breakfast laid out, their eyes widened and they all gasped appreciatively. Bilbo grinned.
« Thank you, thank you, » he said. « Sit down ! The boys would be joining us, but they're sleeping now, so I think we should let them rest… » The others nodded their agreement, and in a few moments, they had all set to, with many exclamations over Bilbo's culinary prowess. Bilbo's pride, somewhat injured by the boys' lack of appetite, was enjoying a thorough boosting. When they had finished, and Bilbo was assured that four hours' worth of cooking hadn't gone to waste after all, they all sat back and sighed.
« That was lovely, sir, » said May, and Bilbo smiled at her.
« Thank you, Miss May. I do try my best. »
« And you succeeded splendidly, sir, » said Bell, who stood and began collecting the dishes for washing. Her daughters stood also and assisted her, except Marigold, who sat in Hamson's lap.
« How're the lads doing ? » asked Hamfast, concerned with things more serious than breakfast.
« Ah, well, » Bilbo began, and hesitated. « Not too well, » he said after a pause. Bell turned to him from the sink with a worried frown.
« How do you mean ? » she asked.
« They're both coughing pretty badly, and they're feverish, for sure, » he said, and gave her the run-through. « Their eyes are too bright, Frodo has no color and Sam has too much, their glands were swollen, from what I could see, and neither of them has any appetite. Sam could hardly stomach the idea of breakfast, and Frodo looked too tired to care, so I sent them back to bed. They're so deeply asleep, I doubt they'd wake if lightning struck the house, or even the bed they're sleeping in. And Sam has bled through his bandages. » His spirits, which had risen briefly during the breakfast, fell again. That sounds even worse than it looked.
Seven pairs of eyes watched him anxiously, as if waiting for something. He wondered what, and then it struck him – permission. He coughed, embarrassed, and continued. « So, if you'd see to them, Bell – I don't know much about medical matters… » he trailed off, and Bell nodded.
« Surely, Master. If you'll show me to their room. » Bilbo felt relieved, for this, in truth, was the real reason he had invited them to breakfast. Bell's healing skills were greater than those of all the neighbor-women, and they were also readily available.
« Right this way, » he said, and led her out of the kitchen.
« Finish the washing-up, girls, » she called over her shoulder to her daughters. Bilbo took her down the hallways till they came to the round, closed door of Frodo's room. He knocked softly, but there was no answer, so he carefully opened the door.
The boys, of course, were in the bed again, and in exactly the same position they had been in earlier – curled around eachother and buried under blankets. The fire was built high, and the room was very warm, almost uncomfortably so. Bell walked to the bedside and looked down at them, smiling a little. Then she rolled up her sleeve and pressed her wrist to Frodo's forehead. She frowned, and laid her hand against his cheek. Her dark eyes widened, and she turned to Bilbo.
« Wet towels ! Cold ones ! » she whispered urgently, and Bilbo departed, even more worried than before. He returned a few minutes later with several towels, all damp and as cold as he could make them. Bell had pulled the blankets off the boys and folded them back at the foot of the bed. Frodo frowned, and shifted, tightening his arms around Sam and pressing his forehead against Sam's neck. « No, no, no, lad, » Bell murmured, prying his arms off of her son. Frodo pulled away, and his eyes opened.
This is too strange, he thought blankly. For a moment, he thought he had come full circle and this was his first waking. But that did not explain why Mistress Bell was here, pulling him away from Sam. « Stop it, » he protested, but sleepily. Bell smiled, and slipped an arm around his shoulders to help him sit up. « Mistress, stop, » he said again.
« Sorry, Frodo, » she said. « But your fever's up, and we've got to bring it down. »
« Fever ? » Frodo said, confused.
« Yes, fever, » she repeated. « You have a fever, because you're sick. It's gone a bit too high for your comfort or your health, and we have to bring it down. So sit still. » Her tone was no-nonsense, and Frodo stopped arguing. He drew a sharp breath when the cold, wet handtowel was pressed to his brow, and Bell smiled apologetically.
« Sorry, » she said. « Here, lay back now. » She lowered him back onto the pillows and walked to the other side of the bed to deal with her son. « Samwise ? Samwise ? » she called softly, and lifted him into her lap. What - ? « Mother ? » he mumbled, his eyes still closed. She kissed him and held him tight. Baby, my baby, my Samwise…You're so hot ! She put him back at Frodo's side, but reluctantly, and bit her lip when he curled close against him without opening his eyes. Frodo ran his fingers absently through Sam's hair and watched her as she pressed her cool wrist to Sam's forehead. She looked so worried, Frodo sat up and took notice.
« What ? What is it, Mistress ? » he asked.
« He's so hot, » she murmured. « You're both so hot… Oh, this isn't good this can't be good… » Bilbo, standing by with his arms full of cold, wet towels, got the brilliantly practical idea of putting them in a bowl. Fetching the basin from Frodo's washstand, he put all the towels in it and handed it to Bell, who took two towels, one for Sam and the other to replace Frodo's, which had grown warm already. The boys blinked as the cold drops ran into their eyes, and opted just close them entirely. Bell continued this cold-water treatment until the towels ran out, some twenty minutes later. By then, Sam and Frodo had fallen asleep again.
« Has it helped, do you think ? » asked Bilbo quietly as she finished up. Drying the boys' hair with a dry handtowel, she once again pressed her wrist to their foreheads. She smiled, satisfied, and Bilbo smiled back.
« They'll be alright. For a while, at least, » she said.
« For a while, » Bilbo said. And they went to rejoin the others in the kitchen.
~*~*~*~*~*~*
A/N: Oh, my! But there's still so much left to write! They're just beginning to get sick! Please review, people! Je vous aime toujours!