Chapter 23
Heat
"His fever's gone up, Gandalf. I think we should go and fetch the healer." Bilbo told the wizard later that night after checking Frodo's temperature. "And his breathing is awfully laboured."
"Right. I'll go," The wizard told Bilbo. "You sit beside Frodo and hold his hand. I shant be long." Gandalf stood up and left the bedroom. When he was gone, Frodo opened his eyes and turned to Bilbo.
"I don't feel good," he whimpered.
"I know, sweetheart. We're going to fetch Dr. Narmadoc and see if he can't give you medicine."
Frodo grimaced as pinpricks of pain shot through the wound on his side and he gasped when it ended. He wondered what on Earth was happening to him, as he was in quite a bit of pain and discomfort. "Try to take a bit of this tea down for me, will you?" Bilbo asked as he took the china saucer and teacup from the nightstand. "You need to keep in fluids."
Frodo shook his head. "Can't." he mumbled weakly. "Too tired."
"Please my boy. I'll even spoon feed it to you if you'd like."
Eventually Frodo complied and allowed the older hobbit to spoon feed the tea to him. He had to admit, however, that it felt wonderful sliding down his dry throat and remedied his dry lips. "There we go." Bilbo soothed. "Does it make you feel better?"
Frodo nodded.
When Dr. Narmadoc arrived about twenty minutes later (He had thankfully been just over the bridge taking care of a family of Proudfoots and could come straight away. After checking Frodo over, he turned to Bilbo and Gandalf who were both watching him anxiously.
"He is coming down with a small blood infection."
Bilbo covered his mouth with his hands and started to cry softly, but Gandalf pulled the older hobbit into a hug. "Is he going to be all right?" he asked.
"I would say so. He'll suffer through a rather high fever and perhaps vomiting and difficulty breathing for about a week or so. In about two to three weeks I'll remove the stiches and see how the wound is fending."
Gandalf touched Bilbo's shoulder. "Did you hear that, Bilbo? Frodo is going to be just fine. We just need to give him plenty of time to rest."
"I see." Bilbo fumbled in his pocket for a handkerchief to dry his eyes and blow his nose and Dr. Narmadoc laughed as the old hobbit appeared to be a bit embarassed by his behavior.
"You have every right to be upset, Bilbo. Blood infections are scary, but thankfully Frodo has a fairly strong immune system and will plow through this with flying colors."
"Is there medicine that we can give him to help?" Bilbo asked.
"Keep administiring those sedatives for his pain and the peppermint for the fever. There really is not a lot you can do for that. I would treat it as the Flu and just let it run its course."
Bilbo sniffed and nodded as he turned towards his nephew, his dark eyes brimming with unshed tears. "This is all my fault," The old hobbit whispered to no one in particular. Dr. Narmadoc raised his eyes and glanced at Gandalf.
"Come now, Bilbo. Why would this be your fault?" the healer wanted to know as he changed the dressing on Frodo's wound.
"I'm being punished for how I've behaved lately towards him."
Dr. Narmadoc froze. "How have you behaved lately, Bilbo? Are you talking about before the accident?"
Bilbo nodded. "I need to be alone and think." He headed out of the room, leaving the wizard and the healer rather astonished.
"Do you know anything about this, Gandalf?" Dr. Narmadoc asked, once Frodo was comfortably positioned in bed.
"He struck Frodo not more than a week ago," Gandalf whispered.
"Bilbo struck him? That is unusual! I would never have expected to hear something like that. What on Earth made him do it?"
Gandalf shut the door so Bilbo could not hear their conversation. "It seems he is being driven by an unseen force. It is not proper to talk about it in front of a ill child."
The healer understood. "I see. Well-I should be going. Just keep a close eye on Frodo for the next few days-if the fever gets very high, give him an ice bath-that usually cools it down."
"All right. Thank you."
"You're welcome." Dr. Narmadoc grabbed his cloak, hat and scarf and quickly headed out of the smial.
"His fever's gone up, Gandalf. I think we should go and fetch the healer." Bilbo told the wizard later that night after checking Frodo's temperature. "And his breathing is awfully laboured."
"Right. I'll go," The wizard told Bilbo. "You sit beside Frodo and hold his hand. I shant be long." Gandalf stood up and left the bedroom. When he was gone, Frodo opened his eyes and turned to Bilbo.
"I don't feel good," he whimpered.
"I know, sweetheart. We're going to fetch Dr. Narmadoc and see if he can't give you medicine."
Frodo grimaced as pinpricks of pain shot through the wound on his side and he gasped when it ended. He wondered what on Earth was happening to him, as he was in quite a bit of pain and discomfort. "Try to take a bit of this tea down for me, will you?" Bilbo asked as he took the china saucer and teacup from the nightstand. "You need to keep in fluids."
Frodo shook his head. "Can't." he mumbled weakly. "Too tired."
"Please my boy. I'll even spoon feed it to you if you'd like."
Eventually Frodo complied and allowed the older hobbit to spoon feed the tea to him. He had to admit, however, that it felt wonderful sliding down his dry throat and remedied his dry lips. "There we go." Bilbo soothed. "Does it make you feel better?"
Frodo nodded.
When Dr. Narmadoc arrived about twenty minutes later (He had thankfully been just over the bridge taking care of a family of Proudfoots and could come straight away. After checking Frodo over, he turned to Bilbo and Gandalf who were both watching him anxiously.
"He is coming down with a small blood infection."
Bilbo covered his mouth with his hands and started to cry softly, but Gandalf pulled the older hobbit into a hug. "Is he going to be all right?" he asked.
"I would say so. He'll suffer through a rather high fever and perhaps vomiting and difficulty breathing for about a week or so. In about two to three weeks I'll remove the stiches and see how the wound is fending."
Gandalf touched Bilbo's shoulder. "Did you hear that, Bilbo? Frodo is going to be just fine. We just need to give him plenty of time to rest."
"I see." Bilbo fumbled in his pocket for a handkerchief to dry his eyes and blow his nose and Dr. Narmadoc laughed as the old hobbit appeared to be a bit embarassed by his behavior.
"You have every right to be upset, Bilbo. Blood infections are scary, but thankfully Frodo has a fairly strong immune system and will plow through this with flying colors."
"Is there medicine that we can give him to help?" Bilbo asked.
"Keep administiring those sedatives for his pain and the peppermint for the fever. There really is not a lot you can do for that. I would treat it as the Flu and just let it run its course."
Bilbo sniffed and nodded as he turned towards his nephew, his dark eyes brimming with unshed tears. "This is all my fault," The old hobbit whispered to no one in particular. Dr. Narmadoc raised his eyes and glanced at Gandalf.
"Come now, Bilbo. Why would this be your fault?" the healer wanted to know as he changed the dressing on Frodo's wound.
"I'm being punished for how I've behaved lately towards him."
Dr. Narmadoc froze. "How have you behaved lately, Bilbo? Are you talking about before the accident?"
Bilbo nodded. "I need to be alone and think." He headed out of the room, leaving the wizard and the healer rather astonished.
"Do you know anything about this, Gandalf?" Dr. Narmadoc asked, once Frodo was comfortably positioned in bed.
"He struck Frodo not more than a week ago," Gandalf whispered.
"Bilbo struck him? That is unusual! I would never have expected to hear something like that. What on Earth made him do it?"
Gandalf shut the door so Bilbo could not hear their conversation. "It seems he is being driven by an unseen force. It is not proper to talk about it in front of a ill child."
The healer understood. "I see. Well-I should be going. Just keep a close eye on Frodo for the next few days-if the fever gets very high, give him an ice bath-that usually cools it down."
"All right. Thank you."
"You're welcome." Dr. Narmadoc grabbed his cloak, hat and scarf and quickly headed out of the smial.