Disclaimer: Bilbo isn't mine. Frodo isn't mine. They, and all others like them are property of the late, great Mr. Tolkien.
Summary: This chapter is from Bilbo's point of view. He is feeling as if he shouldn't have taken Frodo in at all because he just doesn't seem happy at Bag End. He doesn't think that he's doing a good job at raising him and that Frodo would have been better off at Brand Hall.
I sat down beside Frodo's bed. He was very pale yet flushed at the same time. It was already past elevensies and he hadn't woken up yet. This cold was really taking quite a toll on him. I sat back in a soft armchair beside his bed and thought back to when there had been no lad coming up to me at the close of the day to wish me a good night in a shy, quiet voice, sometimes to punctuate it with an even more awkward hug. Had it really only been a month since he came? I can hardly remember Bag End without him. Still sometimes I think he would have been happier back at Brandy Hall with all his other relations. It was selfish of me to take him from that life to live with an old bachelor who enjoys reading books and writing tales about adventures that happened almost a half century before. I had hoped that he would get to know the Gamgees and make friends with them, but he can be reclusive at times, not coming out of his room except to eat his meals and go outside to sit under or even in his favorite tree. Hobbits aren't supposed to like being up in trees, and I have seen many a small child point up at him in wonder and many a parent grab them by the hand and tell their spouse later that, "that Frodo Baggins was just as odd as his cousin Bilbo."
I was jerked back from my daydreams by Frodo coughing harshly. I reached for a pitcher of water and poured him a cup. It was quite a long time before he recovered enough to drink from it, and even when he did he could only take small sips. "Better?" I asked when he pushed the glass away weakly.
He nodded, "What time is it, Bilbo?"
"Almost time for luncheon, my lad. Are you hungry?"
"Not especially, thank you anyway. My head aches and I…" his voice trailed off as he blushed fiercely, "I'm sorry. No thank you, I think I would just like to try to go back to sleep, if that's all the same with you?"
I was puzzled. What had happened to cause that reaction? Sometimes I wonder why I thought I could raise a tweenager. It was very selfish of me to take him away from people who knew how his young mind worked. After all, I hadn't been his age for a very long time. Much longer than I would care to remember. I tried to shrug it of as I went to get something to eat. I was hungry, and I also did my best thinking on a full stomach. I took my lunch into Frodo's room to keep an eye on him and see if there is anything that he may need.
He had his quilt pulled up over his face when I walked in, "Frodo, is something wrong?" I asked, wondering why in the world he would do that.
"The light hurts my eyes, Bilbo." I quickly set my food down, pulled the curtains and put out the lamp.
"There, try this." I gently took the blanket off his face and peered into it. His eyes were red and did look very irritated. "Perhaps you shouldn't rub at them so often, it looks as though you are damaging them." I placed my hand on his forehead, "you're quite warm my boy, I'll go get you something to bring your fever down. I'll be right back." I left my lunch (forgotten at the moment) to get cold as I went to fill a basin with cool water and fetch a cloth.
"Well, Mad Baggins," I said to my reflection as I walked past a mirror in the hall, "What have you gotten yourself into this time? He would obviously do better with the Brandybucks. You don't know the first thing about caring for him. It would be best for him anyway. It does him no good to stay here, away from potential playmates and friends. Maybe I should write a letter to them and ask if I might send Frodo back." As I filled the bowl I convinced myself more firmly that this was what I had to do in order to keep the lad happy.
He was sleeping when I returned, so I wasn't able to talk to him about it just then. Suddenly there was a knock on the door. I frowned, I wasn't expecting visitors right now. When I opened it I was both surprised and happy to see Hamfast standing there. "Hello, come in won't you? Would you care to join me in finishing up lunch?"
"Thank you kindly Master Bilbo, but no. I've just come to tell you that poor Sam has the measles. He's having a hard time of it, and no mistake."
"Measles? Oh dear, I suppose that that would mean that Frodo has it too, as they spent a lot of time playing together last week. Hamfast, may I ask you a question if you're not in too big of a rush to return home? Does Frodo seem content here at Bag End?"
The Gaffer licked his lips in thought before answering, "I think so. Yes, I believe so. The boy just seems very melancholy, as if he don't belong nowhere. I've seen it before, in even the happiest of children. And Mr. Frodo ain't had the best of lives, what with his parents dying when he was such a wee thing and all. I think he needs some place where he can feel safe and wanted. That's what all small ones want when they seem unhappy."
"I was thinking about sending him back to Buckland where he can be better understood."
"Well, you can do whatever you think is best, Mr. Bilbo. All I can say to that is that my Sam would be awful sorry to see him go, and I think you would be too. Anyway, it would be best not to send him back now, whatever you do in the future. Measles ain't nothing to mess about with. I need to get back to my home. I've told May to watch and make sure Sam don't scratch, but I'd just as soon be there making sure of it myself. Have a good day."
"And you, Hamfast. Tell Sam I hope he feels better."
"I will, and give my regards to Mr. Frodo."
I shut the door and leaned against it, suddenly feeling very weak. Measles. I knew nothing about measles. I had it when I was younger than Sam, and that was too far back to remember. Well, I was just going to have to learn about it, that was all. I went over to my bookshelf and picked through until I found some medical books. "Heating bricks for aches and pains, something to bring down the fever, liquids and rest are the only ways to treat this illness, there is no cure." so much for making him get better. It seemed as though all I could do was keep him comfortable.
I came back into Frodo's room with a heating brick wrapped in a towel. He was awake so I spoke to him in what I hoped would be a soothing voice. "This is for your feet, son. Are they cold?"
He nodded and cuddled his feet up to the brick as best he could. He did look more comfortable, after all. "Hamfast Gamgee came by while you were asleep. It would appear that Samwise has the measles and I have reason to believe that you do too."
He looked confused, "But I'm not spotty. I thought that measles was just like chicken pox."
"No, it's worse. And the spots don't show up for three or four days, so tomorrow or the next day you can look forward to having spots."
He gave me a small smile, "I can't wait."
I handed him a glass of juice, "Here, I need you to drink this. I'm supposed to make sure that you drink plenty of liquids. Is there anything else I can do to make you comfortable?"
He snatched a handkerchief that was by his bedside table and sneezed violently into it four times before answering, "Doe thag you." He cleared his nose with a force that made me wince in sympathy, "I mean, no thank you, Bilbo, I think I just want to go back to sleep, if that's alright."
I smiled and rubbed his head, "Of course it's alright, Frodo. You do what you feel like doing, that's your body's way of telling you what it needs to feel better. I'll be here when you wake up, then I can read to you some more, if you would like."
"I would like that very much." He muttered, his eyelids already drooping. I smiled as I started to finish my lunch, which was now very cold indeed. It may have been selfish of me, but I loved him and did want to keep him here with me, even if that wasn't the best thing for him. I would do what was best for Frodo, however, and if that meant giving him up, I supposed I could.
Summary: This chapter is from Bilbo's point of view. He is feeling as if he shouldn't have taken Frodo in at all because he just doesn't seem happy at Bag End. He doesn't think that he's doing a good job at raising him and that Frodo would have been better off at Brand Hall.
I sat down beside Frodo's bed. He was very pale yet flushed at the same time. It was already past elevensies and he hadn't woken up yet. This cold was really taking quite a toll on him. I sat back in a soft armchair beside his bed and thought back to when there had been no lad coming up to me at the close of the day to wish me a good night in a shy, quiet voice, sometimes to punctuate it with an even more awkward hug. Had it really only been a month since he came? I can hardly remember Bag End without him. Still sometimes I think he would have been happier back at Brandy Hall with all his other relations. It was selfish of me to take him from that life to live with an old bachelor who enjoys reading books and writing tales about adventures that happened almost a half century before. I had hoped that he would get to know the Gamgees and make friends with them, but he can be reclusive at times, not coming out of his room except to eat his meals and go outside to sit under or even in his favorite tree. Hobbits aren't supposed to like being up in trees, and I have seen many a small child point up at him in wonder and many a parent grab them by the hand and tell their spouse later that, "that Frodo Baggins was just as odd as his cousin Bilbo."
I was jerked back from my daydreams by Frodo coughing harshly. I reached for a pitcher of water and poured him a cup. It was quite a long time before he recovered enough to drink from it, and even when he did he could only take small sips. "Better?" I asked when he pushed the glass away weakly.
He nodded, "What time is it, Bilbo?"
"Almost time for luncheon, my lad. Are you hungry?"
"Not especially, thank you anyway. My head aches and I…" his voice trailed off as he blushed fiercely, "I'm sorry. No thank you, I think I would just like to try to go back to sleep, if that's all the same with you?"
I was puzzled. What had happened to cause that reaction? Sometimes I wonder why I thought I could raise a tweenager. It was very selfish of me to take him away from people who knew how his young mind worked. After all, I hadn't been his age for a very long time. Much longer than I would care to remember. I tried to shrug it of as I went to get something to eat. I was hungry, and I also did my best thinking on a full stomach. I took my lunch into Frodo's room to keep an eye on him and see if there is anything that he may need.
He had his quilt pulled up over his face when I walked in, "Frodo, is something wrong?" I asked, wondering why in the world he would do that.
"The light hurts my eyes, Bilbo." I quickly set my food down, pulled the curtains and put out the lamp.
"There, try this." I gently took the blanket off his face and peered into it. His eyes were red and did look very irritated. "Perhaps you shouldn't rub at them so often, it looks as though you are damaging them." I placed my hand on his forehead, "you're quite warm my boy, I'll go get you something to bring your fever down. I'll be right back." I left my lunch (forgotten at the moment) to get cold as I went to fill a basin with cool water and fetch a cloth.
"Well, Mad Baggins," I said to my reflection as I walked past a mirror in the hall, "What have you gotten yourself into this time? He would obviously do better with the Brandybucks. You don't know the first thing about caring for him. It would be best for him anyway. It does him no good to stay here, away from potential playmates and friends. Maybe I should write a letter to them and ask if I might send Frodo back." As I filled the bowl I convinced myself more firmly that this was what I had to do in order to keep the lad happy.
He was sleeping when I returned, so I wasn't able to talk to him about it just then. Suddenly there was a knock on the door. I frowned, I wasn't expecting visitors right now. When I opened it I was both surprised and happy to see Hamfast standing there. "Hello, come in won't you? Would you care to join me in finishing up lunch?"
"Thank you kindly Master Bilbo, but no. I've just come to tell you that poor Sam has the measles. He's having a hard time of it, and no mistake."
"Measles? Oh dear, I suppose that that would mean that Frodo has it too, as they spent a lot of time playing together last week. Hamfast, may I ask you a question if you're not in too big of a rush to return home? Does Frodo seem content here at Bag End?"
The Gaffer licked his lips in thought before answering, "I think so. Yes, I believe so. The boy just seems very melancholy, as if he don't belong nowhere. I've seen it before, in even the happiest of children. And Mr. Frodo ain't had the best of lives, what with his parents dying when he was such a wee thing and all. I think he needs some place where he can feel safe and wanted. That's what all small ones want when they seem unhappy."
"I was thinking about sending him back to Buckland where he can be better understood."
"Well, you can do whatever you think is best, Mr. Bilbo. All I can say to that is that my Sam would be awful sorry to see him go, and I think you would be too. Anyway, it would be best not to send him back now, whatever you do in the future. Measles ain't nothing to mess about with. I need to get back to my home. I've told May to watch and make sure Sam don't scratch, but I'd just as soon be there making sure of it myself. Have a good day."
"And you, Hamfast. Tell Sam I hope he feels better."
"I will, and give my regards to Mr. Frodo."
I shut the door and leaned against it, suddenly feeling very weak. Measles. I knew nothing about measles. I had it when I was younger than Sam, and that was too far back to remember. Well, I was just going to have to learn about it, that was all. I went over to my bookshelf and picked through until I found some medical books. "Heating bricks for aches and pains, something to bring down the fever, liquids and rest are the only ways to treat this illness, there is no cure." so much for making him get better. It seemed as though all I could do was keep him comfortable.
I came back into Frodo's room with a heating brick wrapped in a towel. He was awake so I spoke to him in what I hoped would be a soothing voice. "This is for your feet, son. Are they cold?"
He nodded and cuddled his feet up to the brick as best he could. He did look more comfortable, after all. "Hamfast Gamgee came by while you were asleep. It would appear that Samwise has the measles and I have reason to believe that you do too."
He looked confused, "But I'm not spotty. I thought that measles was just like chicken pox."
"No, it's worse. And the spots don't show up for three or four days, so tomorrow or the next day you can look forward to having spots."
He gave me a small smile, "I can't wait."
I handed him a glass of juice, "Here, I need you to drink this. I'm supposed to make sure that you drink plenty of liquids. Is there anything else I can do to make you comfortable?"
He snatched a handkerchief that was by his bedside table and sneezed violently into it four times before answering, "Doe thag you." He cleared his nose with a force that made me wince in sympathy, "I mean, no thank you, Bilbo, I think I just want to go back to sleep, if that's alright."
I smiled and rubbed his head, "Of course it's alright, Frodo. You do what you feel like doing, that's your body's way of telling you what it needs to feel better. I'll be here when you wake up, then I can read to you some more, if you would like."
"I would like that very much." He muttered, his eyelids already drooping. I smiled as I started to finish my lunch, which was now very cold indeed. It may have been selfish of me, but I loved him and did want to keep him here with me, even if that wasn't the best thing for him. I would do what was best for Frodo, however, and if that meant giving him up, I supposed I could.