Chapter 9
Unfortunately, Frodo had been correct in his assumptions for
Bilbo was in quite a bit of pain throughout the night. His broken
ankle ached so much that he nearly cried, and he had to admit he was
grateful when Frodo snuck into his room a few hours after leaving it.
"What are you doing up, Frodo my lad?" Bilbo asked weakly.
"I think I'll stay with you tonight, Uncle Bilbo. In case you
need help since your foot's broken."
"Ankle, lad. And anyway—I can—manage." He tried to surpress a
gasp of pain.
"I'll get you some ice. We really should have contacted the
healer tonight." Frodo sniffled, wiping his itchy nose with his
sleeve as he headed out of the room and to the kitchen. He got a
towel and some pieces of ice from the ice chest and brought both
items to his Uncle.
"That was very thoughtful, cricket. Thank you." Bilbo praised
as his nephew rolled the blanket up, revealing the bandaged foot.
Once the ice was securely in place, he climbed into bed with Bilbo
and snuggled up to the old hobbit.
"I'll be here if you need me. What if I have breathing
trouble and you can't get to me?"
"Let's hope you don't. Are you warm enough? I'm not hogging
all of the covers, am I?" Bilbo teased. (This is not a slashy scene.
Frodo is a snuggler ;) don't we all wish he could snuggle with
us?) "Now close your eyes, love. I'll reach over and put out the
lamp. Bilbo blew the candle out and then settled into a comfortable-
enough position so he could try and fall asleep.
About ten minutes later: *ZZZZZZZZ* Bilbo's brown eyes
snapped open at the horrid noise that just errupted. *ZZZZZZZ* He
glanced over at Frodo and realized that the younger hobbit was
snoring—clearly from the nasal conjestion. `I'm NEVER going to get
any sleep.' He thought miserably. First his aching foot and then
Frodo's snoring. He nudged Frodo a bit, whispring "Lad."
"Mrrrrph." Frodo mumbled, but continued sleeping. *ZZZZZZZ*
"Frodo—wake up." Bilbo rustled the tweenager a bit rougher
and Frodo blinked his blue eyes open.
"Whazzat?" He asked. "Huh?"
"You were snoring."
Frodo raised an eyebrow. "Sorry." Then he immediately fell
back to sleep again. Chuckling, Bilbo planted a kiss on his nephew's
head and attempted to turn over on his other side, but grimaced as
pain shot through his broken ankle again. Even if they had fetched
the healar that night, his ankle would have still been painful, for
there was the horrid process of resetting the broken bone and the
agony of that torture lasted for hours. He would probably have to
limp on crutches for a few weeks till the ankle healed and even
afterwards, for he would need to regain strength to the bone. Frodo
suddenly awoke with a violent sneeze.
"Ugh." He mumbled miserably. "Is the window open?" He asked,
sneezing again.
Bilbo looked over and noticed that the window was in deed
open a crack. "I'm sorry, Frodo—it is."
In the midst of his sneezing fit, Frodo managed to climb out
of bed and make his way towards the window to shut it. "I'm sorry."
The tweenager gasped.
"Nothing to be sorry bout, honey. Deep breaths now—that's it.
In—out. In—out."
"I'm so tired, Bilbo, but I can't seem to fall asleep." Frodo
sighed. "I can barely breathe through my nose."
"I can tell. I've never noticed that you snored before."
"Neither did I. Bilbo—could you sing to me or something? It
usually puts me to sleep."
"I'll see what I can come up with. I would get a book and
read to you, but I can barely turn over without this blasted ankle
aching. Let's see now." He allowed Frodo to lay his head on his chest
as he searched through his head for any melodies that he often sung
as lullabye's to Frodo. "How about: There was a man who dwelt alone,
as day and night went past, he sat as still as carven stone, and yet
no shadow cast. The white owls perched upon his head, beneath the
winter moon; they wiped t heir beaks and thought him dead under the
stars of June. There came a lady clad in grey, in the twilight
shining; one moment sh would stand and stay, her hair with flowers
entwining. He woke as had he sprung of stone, and broke the spell
that bound him; he clasped her fast, both flesh and bones, and
wrapped her shadow round him. There never more she walks her ways by
sun or moon or star; she dwells below where neither days, nor any
nights there are……"
Bilbo paused just to check on Frodo's sleeping-process, and
was pleased to see that the lad was drifting off. Very slowly and
carefully, Bilbo eased the boy up and rested him down on the
mattress, smiling as Frodo sunk under the covers and let out a small
sigh of content. Just as a bit of a treat, Bilbo continued the
song: "There never more she walks her ways, by sun or moon or star;
she dwells below where neither days, nor any nights there are. But
once a year when caverns yawn and hidden things awake, they dance
together then till dawn, and a single shadow make."
(This excerpt is from the poem "Shadow Bride" by J.R.R. Tolkien. As
usual, it can be found in "The Tolkien Reader". If you guys don't
have this, definitely think about getting it because it has a lot of
great stories in there.)
Unfortunately, Frodo had been correct in his assumptions for
Bilbo was in quite a bit of pain throughout the night. His broken
ankle ached so much that he nearly cried, and he had to admit he was
grateful when Frodo snuck into his room a few hours after leaving it.
"What are you doing up, Frodo my lad?" Bilbo asked weakly.
"I think I'll stay with you tonight, Uncle Bilbo. In case you
need help since your foot's broken."
"Ankle, lad. And anyway—I can—manage." He tried to surpress a
gasp of pain.
"I'll get you some ice. We really should have contacted the
healer tonight." Frodo sniffled, wiping his itchy nose with his
sleeve as he headed out of the room and to the kitchen. He got a
towel and some pieces of ice from the ice chest and brought both
items to his Uncle.
"That was very thoughtful, cricket. Thank you." Bilbo praised
as his nephew rolled the blanket up, revealing the bandaged foot.
Once the ice was securely in place, he climbed into bed with Bilbo
and snuggled up to the old hobbit.
"I'll be here if you need me. What if I have breathing
trouble and you can't get to me?"
"Let's hope you don't. Are you warm enough? I'm not hogging
all of the covers, am I?" Bilbo teased. (This is not a slashy scene.
Frodo is a snuggler ;) don't we all wish he could snuggle with
us?) "Now close your eyes, love. I'll reach over and put out the
lamp. Bilbo blew the candle out and then settled into a comfortable-
enough position so he could try and fall asleep.
About ten minutes later: *ZZZZZZZZ* Bilbo's brown eyes
snapped open at the horrid noise that just errupted. *ZZZZZZZ* He
glanced over at Frodo and realized that the younger hobbit was
snoring—clearly from the nasal conjestion. `I'm NEVER going to get
any sleep.' He thought miserably. First his aching foot and then
Frodo's snoring. He nudged Frodo a bit, whispring "Lad."
"Mrrrrph." Frodo mumbled, but continued sleeping. *ZZZZZZZ*
"Frodo—wake up." Bilbo rustled the tweenager a bit rougher
and Frodo blinked his blue eyes open.
"Whazzat?" He asked. "Huh?"
"You were snoring."
Frodo raised an eyebrow. "Sorry." Then he immediately fell
back to sleep again. Chuckling, Bilbo planted a kiss on his nephew's
head and attempted to turn over on his other side, but grimaced as
pain shot through his broken ankle again. Even if they had fetched
the healar that night, his ankle would have still been painful, for
there was the horrid process of resetting the broken bone and the
agony of that torture lasted for hours. He would probably have to
limp on crutches for a few weeks till the ankle healed and even
afterwards, for he would need to regain strength to the bone. Frodo
suddenly awoke with a violent sneeze.
"Ugh." He mumbled miserably. "Is the window open?" He asked,
sneezing again.
Bilbo looked over and noticed that the window was in deed
open a crack. "I'm sorry, Frodo—it is."
In the midst of his sneezing fit, Frodo managed to climb out
of bed and make his way towards the window to shut it. "I'm sorry."
The tweenager gasped.
"Nothing to be sorry bout, honey. Deep breaths now—that's it.
In—out. In—out."
"I'm so tired, Bilbo, but I can't seem to fall asleep." Frodo
sighed. "I can barely breathe through my nose."
"I can tell. I've never noticed that you snored before."
"Neither did I. Bilbo—could you sing to me or something? It
usually puts me to sleep."
"I'll see what I can come up with. I would get a book and
read to you, but I can barely turn over without this blasted ankle
aching. Let's see now." He allowed Frodo to lay his head on his chest
as he searched through his head for any melodies that he often sung
as lullabye's to Frodo. "How about: There was a man who dwelt alone,
as day and night went past, he sat as still as carven stone, and yet
no shadow cast. The white owls perched upon his head, beneath the
winter moon; they wiped t heir beaks and thought him dead under the
stars of June. There came a lady clad in grey, in the twilight
shining; one moment sh would stand and stay, her hair with flowers
entwining. He woke as had he sprung of stone, and broke the spell
that bound him; he clasped her fast, both flesh and bones, and
wrapped her shadow round him. There never more she walks her ways by
sun or moon or star; she dwells below where neither days, nor any
nights there are……"
Bilbo paused just to check on Frodo's sleeping-process, and
was pleased to see that the lad was drifting off. Very slowly and
carefully, Bilbo eased the boy up and rested him down on the
mattress, smiling as Frodo sunk under the covers and let out a small
sigh of content. Just as a bit of a treat, Bilbo continued the
song: "There never more she walks her ways, by sun or moon or star;
she dwells below where neither days, nor any nights there are. But
once a year when caverns yawn and hidden things awake, they dance
together then till dawn, and a single shadow make."
(This excerpt is from the poem "Shadow Bride" by J.R.R. Tolkien. As
usual, it can be found in "The Tolkien Reader". If you guys don't
have this, definitely think about getting it because it has a lot of
great stories in there.)