Chapter 15
Rest
"I'm going to need you to sit up so I can check your breathing, Frodo lad."
"NO!"
Bilbo rubbed his aching forehead with-it wasn't disgust, he was sure of that-aggrivation? He had no idea. Frodo was in such a foul mood at the moment, and refused to obey any of the healer's orders or his family.
"Frodo Baggins-let the healer do what he needs to do." Drogo ordered.
"NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, NO!" Frodo wailed.
Primula stroked her son's thick, dark curls as Dr. Narmadoc placed the stethescope against the lad's bare chest. Frodo's bark was definitely worse than his bite, for he didn't struggle even when the healer did this. "Take a deep breath-good boy. I know it hurts, Frodo, but we have to find out how we can help you." The healer soothed.
"I want Mama," Frodo whimpered, not even realizing that his mother sat right beside him.
"I'm right here, pumpkin." Primula promised, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze.
"His breathing is still conjested with the fluid in his longues," the healer explained. "The best thing to do for it is to let it run its course. Just keep applying compresses and administiring teas. He does have Strep throat, and with his high fever it could be perilous."
Bilbo felt very faint in deed. He didn't think he could bare it, loosing his favorite nephew. He'd been on some of the most dangerous adventures: rescuing dwarven gold from the dragon Smaug's lair, escaping enormous spiders-but nothing scared him more than the fear for loosing someone he loved.
"Bilbo?" Frodo whimpered, holding his arms out. The old hobbit immediately bent down and let Frodo hug him, beginning to cry softly.
"Everything's going to be all right, my dear lad. I promise. We're going to help you feel better." Bilbo kissed Frodo's forehead and gazed into the feverish eyes.
"I'm sorry I can not do more, Bilbo. This is one of the worst cases of Strep throat I've seen in these parts yet."
Bilbo let go of Frodo, wiping his suddenly tearful eyes with his handkerchief. "Frodo will overcome this, won't he?"
"I'm sure he will. He's overcome quite a bit in the past few years so I have no doubts about that. He is a strong lad after all."
"What should we do about the fever fits?" asked Drogo.
Narmadoc smiled. "Just play along with him when he's delerious-that's the best suggestion I can give you. "If he tries to leave the smial again, make up some sort of an excuse about why he can't go out. Something like- there are wild beasts waiting to attack you and you can't go out. You'll be safe here-or along those lines."
Primula nodded sadly as she turned to hug Drogo tightly. "Thank you for coming, Narmadoc. We really do appreciate this." Said Bilbo, shaking the healer's hand.
"It is no trouble at all."
"Thank you, doctor." Primula whispered as the healer once again left the smial. When he was gone, Primula leaned her head against Drogo's shoulder and closed her eyes as she felt the comforting circular motion of his hands on her back.
"Shhhh. I know you're scared, Primmie-I'm scared too. I think we ought to lay down and rest ourselves. Bilbo-would you mind sitting with our son for a bit? You've always been such a comfort to Frodo."
Bilbo nodded. "I would be glad to. Go on and rest as much as you can. If Frodo calls for you I'll get you."
"Thank you." Drogo led a sobbing Primula away from the room and Bilbo turned back to the sick child in bed. Frodo looked so small and helpless under the sheets, his already pale skin a few shades paler with a pink tinge due to the fever. The lad's lips were parched and cracked and every breath was tight with conjestion. Bilbo took the bowl of luke-warm water from the nightstand and dipped the cloth into it, gently blotting Frodo's feverish face with it.
"Mrm-Mmm." Frodo whimpered, moving from side to side, stretching out his hands upon the blankets. The soft moans were interrupted by a few weak sneezes.
"Shhhhh." Bilbo comforted. "I'm here, lad." The old hobbit placed a weathered hand on top of Frodo's, shocked at how cold it felt.
"How is fending?" Bilbo jumped and turned to see Gandalf standing behind him.
"The fever is so high, Gandalf. I'm so frightened."
"Let me work on him a bit-go and rest. I'll take over."
Bilbo stared at the wizard with a doubtful expression but decided it best to comply, and headed for his bedroom.
"I'm going to need you to sit up so I can check your breathing, Frodo lad."
"NO!"
Bilbo rubbed his aching forehead with-it wasn't disgust, he was sure of that-aggrivation? He had no idea. Frodo was in such a foul mood at the moment, and refused to obey any of the healer's orders or his family.
"Frodo Baggins-let the healer do what he needs to do." Drogo ordered.
"NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, NO!" Frodo wailed.
Primula stroked her son's thick, dark curls as Dr. Narmadoc placed the stethescope against the lad's bare chest. Frodo's bark was definitely worse than his bite, for he didn't struggle even when the healer did this. "Take a deep breath-good boy. I know it hurts, Frodo, but we have to find out how we can help you." The healer soothed.
"I want Mama," Frodo whimpered, not even realizing that his mother sat right beside him.
"I'm right here, pumpkin." Primula promised, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze.
"His breathing is still conjested with the fluid in his longues," the healer explained. "The best thing to do for it is to let it run its course. Just keep applying compresses and administiring teas. He does have Strep throat, and with his high fever it could be perilous."
Bilbo felt very faint in deed. He didn't think he could bare it, loosing his favorite nephew. He'd been on some of the most dangerous adventures: rescuing dwarven gold from the dragon Smaug's lair, escaping enormous spiders-but nothing scared him more than the fear for loosing someone he loved.
"Bilbo?" Frodo whimpered, holding his arms out. The old hobbit immediately bent down and let Frodo hug him, beginning to cry softly.
"Everything's going to be all right, my dear lad. I promise. We're going to help you feel better." Bilbo kissed Frodo's forehead and gazed into the feverish eyes.
"I'm sorry I can not do more, Bilbo. This is one of the worst cases of Strep throat I've seen in these parts yet."
Bilbo let go of Frodo, wiping his suddenly tearful eyes with his handkerchief. "Frodo will overcome this, won't he?"
"I'm sure he will. He's overcome quite a bit in the past few years so I have no doubts about that. He is a strong lad after all."
"What should we do about the fever fits?" asked Drogo.
Narmadoc smiled. "Just play along with him when he's delerious-that's the best suggestion I can give you. "If he tries to leave the smial again, make up some sort of an excuse about why he can't go out. Something like- there are wild beasts waiting to attack you and you can't go out. You'll be safe here-or along those lines."
Primula nodded sadly as she turned to hug Drogo tightly. "Thank you for coming, Narmadoc. We really do appreciate this." Said Bilbo, shaking the healer's hand.
"It is no trouble at all."
"Thank you, doctor." Primula whispered as the healer once again left the smial. When he was gone, Primula leaned her head against Drogo's shoulder and closed her eyes as she felt the comforting circular motion of his hands on her back.
"Shhhh. I know you're scared, Primmie-I'm scared too. I think we ought to lay down and rest ourselves. Bilbo-would you mind sitting with our son for a bit? You've always been such a comfort to Frodo."
Bilbo nodded. "I would be glad to. Go on and rest as much as you can. If Frodo calls for you I'll get you."
"Thank you." Drogo led a sobbing Primula away from the room and Bilbo turned back to the sick child in bed. Frodo looked so small and helpless under the sheets, his already pale skin a few shades paler with a pink tinge due to the fever. The lad's lips were parched and cracked and every breath was tight with conjestion. Bilbo took the bowl of luke-warm water from the nightstand and dipped the cloth into it, gently blotting Frodo's feverish face with it.
"Mrm-Mmm." Frodo whimpered, moving from side to side, stretching out his hands upon the blankets. The soft moans were interrupted by a few weak sneezes.
"Shhhhh." Bilbo comforted. "I'm here, lad." The old hobbit placed a weathered hand on top of Frodo's, shocked at how cold it felt.
"How is fending?" Bilbo jumped and turned to see Gandalf standing behind him.
"The fever is so high, Gandalf. I'm so frightened."
"Let me work on him a bit-go and rest. I'll take over."
Bilbo stared at the wizard with a doubtful expression but decided it best to comply, and headed for his bedroom.