***
A soft breeze rustled through the tent, and Frodo Baggins opened his eyes wearily as Gandalf's whispered voice broke through his slumber.
"Yes, that is he---the dark-haired hobbit on the left," the wizard was saying. "No ... the other is Sam, who has been his most worthy companion on this Quest. Come, see to Frodo first."
Frodo's eyes opened a bit more as three females approached, all clad in the robes of the Houses of Healing. He was tired . . . so very tired . . . but not too tired to grimace at the prospect of what lay ahead. He had endured it just a few days earlier---the poking, prodding, pressing, asking questions about his bodily functions that should, by all accounts, remain private. Poor Sam had had his share of it, too---but not so much as Frodo, and the poor hobbit was at a loss to understand why.
Seeing that Frodo was awake, Gandalf smiled and stepped into the tent. "Frodo---here are three healers who would like to take a quick look at you. They are from the Houses of Healing: Overlithien, Amelia, and
Hope."
The hobbit nodded, wondering why the females were staring at him so. Well, perhaps they had never seen a hobbit before. Suddenly, all three were about his bed---Amelia sitting beside him, Overlithien leaning over him on the right side, and Hope peering at him from her spot on his right.
"Look, Overlithia, Hope. His hand has been grievously wounded---we must clean and rebandage it, I think."
"It was just cleaned a bit ago..." Frodo began, only to be cut off.
"And the whip mark---ah, it breaks my heart to even think about such on this innocent creature. It will have to be cleaned again."
"And we must fatten him up---look how pitifully thin the poor thing is . . . a travesty."
"Most definitely, Amelia. And so pale... but such lovely ivory skin."
"You don't have to tell me--I noticed. Look at his hair, too---haven't seen that one on a hobbit before. Although, I'm quite certain it's needing a good washing."
"I'll wash it, Hope, while you can give him the sponge bath."
All three ignored the very worried pair of blue eyes staring up at them.
"Hmmm... really, Overlithien... I'm thinking it would be better to simply let him soak for a while. I'll scrub him in the tub and then you can rub the lotion into his skin."
A soft male hobbit voice was heard to say, "Lotion? Please, that's not necess---"
"Overlithien, if you would grab those large fluffy towels over there---yes, that one should be *perfect* to wrap him up in after we retrieve him dripping from the tub---"
"Here you go---will you also be wanting a clean nightshirt for him?"
"Not necessary, really. He can go without."
"Really, I would feel more comfortable *with* a nightshirt..."
"And make sure, Hope, that you consult with the others on his dose of medication. It has to be right--he's such a small little thing, you know."
"Yes, indeed... he looks very much like one of the Fair Folk, does he not?"
"Well, that's what everyone says. Hmmmm... Hope can attend to the medicine ... Hope? Hope!! Leave Sam alone and come over here."
"Yes, ma'am. I was just looking at him for a moment."
"Well... you'll get your chance later. Now, set about to changing this little one's bed linens. You'll have to pick him up to do that, of course..."
"I am *perfectly* capable of climbing out of the bed myself..."
"Nonsense, Master Baggins... we can't have that..."
The next two hours passed in a dizzying blur for Frodo as he was poked, prodded, pressed, peered at, undressed, unclad, disrobed, de-gowned, washed, cleaned, disinfected, bathed, soaked, immersed, steeped, rubbed, patted, dried, coddled, lotioned, oiled, carried, brushed, ointmented, bandaged, redressed, fed, medicated, drugged, and finally, put back to bed and tucked in neatly.
"Oh, Amelia, he does look so snug and comfortable now, doesn't he?"
"He certainly does ... oh, he's yawning, Overlithien. He must be so tired from his ordeal... thank goodness we took care not to exhaust him further."
"Hope, excellent job with the bath. Even his little fingernails are clean, finally."
"Thank you---it was certainly a challenge." She paused as she brushed a lock of dark hair back from the sleeping Frodo's brow. "Now I guess we need to start on Sam?"
In the bed next to Frodo's, two brown eyes gazed horror-stricken at the three...
*Until the next Frodo sickness*
A soft breeze rustled through the tent, and Frodo Baggins opened his eyes wearily as Gandalf's whispered voice broke through his slumber.
"Yes, that is he---the dark-haired hobbit on the left," the wizard was saying. "No ... the other is Sam, who has been his most worthy companion on this Quest. Come, see to Frodo first."
Frodo's eyes opened a bit more as three females approached, all clad in the robes of the Houses of Healing. He was tired . . . so very tired . . . but not too tired to grimace at the prospect of what lay ahead. He had endured it just a few days earlier---the poking, prodding, pressing, asking questions about his bodily functions that should, by all accounts, remain private. Poor Sam had had his share of it, too---but not so much as Frodo, and the poor hobbit was at a loss to understand why.
Seeing that Frodo was awake, Gandalf smiled and stepped into the tent. "Frodo---here are three healers who would like to take a quick look at you. They are from the Houses of Healing: Overlithien, Amelia, and
Hope."
The hobbit nodded, wondering why the females were staring at him so. Well, perhaps they had never seen a hobbit before. Suddenly, all three were about his bed---Amelia sitting beside him, Overlithien leaning over him on the right side, and Hope peering at him from her spot on his right.
"Look, Overlithia, Hope. His hand has been grievously wounded---we must clean and rebandage it, I think."
"It was just cleaned a bit ago..." Frodo began, only to be cut off.
"And the whip mark---ah, it breaks my heart to even think about such on this innocent creature. It will have to be cleaned again."
"And we must fatten him up---look how pitifully thin the poor thing is . . . a travesty."
"Most definitely, Amelia. And so pale... but such lovely ivory skin."
"You don't have to tell me--I noticed. Look at his hair, too---haven't seen that one on a hobbit before. Although, I'm quite certain it's needing a good washing."
"I'll wash it, Hope, while you can give him the sponge bath."
All three ignored the very worried pair of blue eyes staring up at them.
"Hmmm... really, Overlithien... I'm thinking it would be better to simply let him soak for a while. I'll scrub him in the tub and then you can rub the lotion into his skin."
A soft male hobbit voice was heard to say, "Lotion? Please, that's not necess---"
"Overlithien, if you would grab those large fluffy towels over there---yes, that one should be *perfect* to wrap him up in after we retrieve him dripping from the tub---"
"Here you go---will you also be wanting a clean nightshirt for him?"
"Not necessary, really. He can go without."
"Really, I would feel more comfortable *with* a nightshirt..."
"And make sure, Hope, that you consult with the others on his dose of medication. It has to be right--he's such a small little thing, you know."
"Yes, indeed... he looks very much like one of the Fair Folk, does he not?"
"Well, that's what everyone says. Hmmmm... Hope can attend to the medicine ... Hope? Hope!! Leave Sam alone and come over here."
"Yes, ma'am. I was just looking at him for a moment."
"Well... you'll get your chance later. Now, set about to changing this little one's bed linens. You'll have to pick him up to do that, of course..."
"I am *perfectly* capable of climbing out of the bed myself..."
"Nonsense, Master Baggins... we can't have that..."
The next two hours passed in a dizzying blur for Frodo as he was poked, prodded, pressed, peered at, undressed, unclad, disrobed, de-gowned, washed, cleaned, disinfected, bathed, soaked, immersed, steeped, rubbed, patted, dried, coddled, lotioned, oiled, carried, brushed, ointmented, bandaged, redressed, fed, medicated, drugged, and finally, put back to bed and tucked in neatly.
"Oh, Amelia, he does look so snug and comfortable now, doesn't he?"
"He certainly does ... oh, he's yawning, Overlithien. He must be so tired from his ordeal... thank goodness we took care not to exhaust him further."
"Hope, excellent job with the bath. Even his little fingernails are clean, finally."
"Thank you---it was certainly a challenge." She paused as she brushed a lock of dark hair back from the sleeping Frodo's brow. "Now I guess we need to start on Sam?"
In the bed next to Frodo's, two brown eyes gazed horror-stricken at the three...
*Until the next Frodo sickness*