This is my first attempt at a sick Frodo tale...at the time I wrote it, I
was unaware of another fic close to the same plot...this deals with a young
Frodo who's only at his uncles for a visit from Brandy Hall. It is AU.
Young Frodo watched as his Uncle Bilbo left to join the after dinner crowd in the common room downstairs.
"Are you sure you won't come down with me Frodo? There's bound to be plenty of folks you know."
"No thank you uncle. I am just tired from all the walking today. Perhaps tomorrow!"
"All right then. Sleep well!"
The eight-year-old Frodo smiled tightly as his uncle left.
The moment he did, Frodo gasped out loud and bent over double, plopping to the floor. He had never had a stomachache like this before! He looked ruefully at the crumpled bag of horehound candy on the bureau. Perhaps it was really too much candy. But the sharp pain was like nothing he had ever felt before, not even when he and Merry had raided the kitchen garden at Brandy Hall and eaten a whole bush of blackberries between them.
The thought of food made him feel queasy and he got up and went to the small dining table where he and Bilbo had shared their supper.
Frodo had not been able to finish, telling his uncle the small fib that he did not care for the spices in the stew.
Bilbo had looked at him concerned and said solicitously, "You aren't sickening, are you Frodo, my lad?"
That being too close to the truth, Frodo shook his head emphatically "no."
Bilbo smiled and said, "Just so long as that is the only reason you are not eating!"
Frodo had smiled back and said, "Of course Uncle. It is just the food."
The young hobbit got up nervously and went and sat on the bed, still holding his stomach. This was not only his first day here, but his first visit ever to the annual Fall Festival in Michel Delving and he had really been looking forward to it!
He had only been given a two-week stay with his Uncle Bilbo, as everyone thought it would be good for the hobbit child to get some individual attention. Something he was sorely lacking in the crowded halls of the Brandybucks. Needless to say, this was the first time he had gone to an event such as this. There had been little time for such frivolities at Brandy Hall for an orphaned cousin.
Frodo curled up on the bed, hoping the change in position would help and just as he thought he might actually be able to relax, the sharp pain returned.
"I can't tell Uncle Bilbo I am sick," he thought, tears sparkling in his eyes. "Then we'll have to go home and I will never get to the Mathom Sale!"
Pacing the small room did no good either, and finally, Frodo impulsively decided to get some fresh air.
Carefully going down the back stairs, which led to the stable yard, Frodo crossed the smooth stone courtyard. Finding a back gate, he opened it and saw a path that followed the creek running behind the Hidden Haven Inn.
He walked along slowly, still clutching his painful stomach. Suddenly, the little dinner he had eaten forced itself up, and the small hobbit threw up against a tree. Leaning against the trunk until the nausea passed, Frodo wiped his mouth with a grimace and then staggered away. Oh, that had really made his stomach hurt! He walked unsteadily away and rubbed his tummy, trying to get the tight muscles to relax.
Perhaps it was the crisp fall air and the bright stars, but he began to feel himself calm down some and he cautiously let his arms fall from holding his stomach.
Frodo, relieved the pain had faded away, started singing an old Elvish song Bilbo had taught him on the trip to Michel Delving to bolster his spirits. Caught up in the song, he strolled far longer and farther than he intended.
As he finished the last chorus, he thought he heard an answering voice singing harmony and paused. Looking around, he frowned slightly as he noticed he was deep in the woods to the west of town. He listened again for the singer, but all was silent.
Shaking his head, he smiled to himself. No one around here would know Elvish! Why he barely knew it himself! Uncle Bilbo had promised to teach him more that just the song too. He turned and went back to Michel Delving, glad he had taken the walk, still humming the song. And just before he reached the end of the woods, again, he thought he heard the chorus of the song repeated softly. But it sounded far away, like an echo. Frodo looked up at the night sky and saw the Mariner's Star, Earendil. Feeling a bit saucy, in spite of his stomach, he saluted it.
As he avoided a farmer's cart loaded with hay close to town, the stomach pain returned with a vengeance, and caught off guard by the intensity, Frodo, tripped and fell into a dry drainage ditch that paralleled the road.
Scrambling painfully back to the road, he looked ruefully at the hole in his pants that revealed a skinned knee as well. Just one more thing to worry Uncle Bilbo!
Limping, with tears in his eyes, he made his way back to the inn.
It seemed to take forever to go up the back stairs and he was never so glad to reach his room.
Just as he was about to go in though, he heard voices on the other side of the door. Pausing to listen (a survival technique he had learned at Brandy Hall), he heard his uncle say to someone, ".if that is really the case, Marga, the other Brandybucks should be told. It might not just be me who has gotten the worst of the lot. Heaven knows I don't want anything diseased in Bag End. I shall have to insist on a return."
Frodo moved away from the door and fell against the corridor wall aghast.
Was Uncle Bilbo going to send him back to the Brandybucks ?
"He must have known I was really sick," Frodo thought. "And taking care of me has just gotten to be too much for him. I disturb his writing and his gardening and his mushroom hunting." The last thought made his stomach roil, and he bent over, trying to swallow his exclamation of pain.
Not wanting to embarrass Bilbo by walking into his conversation in his "diseased" condition, Frodo sadly went down the corridor and down the stairs again.
Where could he go?
Looking around, he thought of the stables, but he knew they were crowded with horses and ostlers and it wasn't likely he could sneak in there unobserved.
Still gripping his stomach, he went back out the small gate to the river path, trying to find a place for the night at least. He knew, with these pains, he would not be able to sleep much. So hopefully, in a few hours, his Uncle Bilbo would be deep in dreams and Frodo could sneak back into their room and get his rucksack.
The water of the stream beckoned, making Frodo realize how thirsty he was. He bent and drank carefully several handfuls and then got slowly up and continued his ramble.
Spying a platform obviously made by children in the crotch of an oak leaning over the stream, Frodo clambered up and huddled next to the bole of the tree, shivering in the fall night air.
Staring through the leaves, Frodo saw Earendil again, twinkling hopefully it seemed to him. Maybe he could go live with the elves. Bilbo had always told him how nice the elves were in Rivendell.
Able to sleep for a few hours, Frodo awoke gasping in pain again. Would this never stop? Getting up stiffly, he rubbed his skinned knee, wincing and then slowly made his way back down the tree and returned to the inn.
Creeping up the back stairs, he went to their room and unlocked the door. But no one was in there! Where had Bilbo gone? He hadn't left Michel Delving already, had he?
Frodo went to the bureau and was relieved to see Bilbo's things were still in the drawers. Grabbing his belongings, Frodo hastily stuffed them into his rucksack. Well, he might as well take advantage of Bilbo's absence. Perhaps he had gone visiting with friends and was still in a corner by the fire telling stories. He loved to tell stories. And Frodo paused a moment and swallowed a sob. What he would give to be listening to Bilbo recite a poem by the cheery fire in the Bag End parlor! If only he wasn't "diseased!"
Finished packing, Frodo looked around again, eyes filled with tears quietly crept out.
In a few minutes, he was back under the oak. Looking up into the branches, he sighed, wincing at his painful stomach. He didn't have the energy to climb again.
Adjusting the straps of his rucksack, he started following the stream again.
Bilbo had stayed up late talking with friends, right in the inn common room. Since his travels rarely took him this far west, he had lots of catching up to do. And he had gotten quite a few stories to share with young Frodo!
But the four hobbits gathered in a circle not only realized the late hour, but saw the fire had sunk to glowing coals. Cheerily saying good night, they split up and went their various ways.
Humming under his breath, Bilbo unlocked the door and went in. it took him a moment to realize there was no youngster sleeping in the other bed.
"Frodo?" He called out quietly. But there was no answer. Bilbo even looked under the bed, but no Frodo.
Pausing in the middle of the room, he tried to think if he had mentioned anyone he would go visiting with, but no one came to mind.
Waiting to see if perhaps he gone to the privy, he got worried after a half hour and went out of the inn in search of his missing nephew
Young Frodo watched as his Uncle Bilbo left to join the after dinner crowd in the common room downstairs.
"Are you sure you won't come down with me Frodo? There's bound to be plenty of folks you know."
"No thank you uncle. I am just tired from all the walking today. Perhaps tomorrow!"
"All right then. Sleep well!"
The eight-year-old Frodo smiled tightly as his uncle left.
The moment he did, Frodo gasped out loud and bent over double, plopping to the floor. He had never had a stomachache like this before! He looked ruefully at the crumpled bag of horehound candy on the bureau. Perhaps it was really too much candy. But the sharp pain was like nothing he had ever felt before, not even when he and Merry had raided the kitchen garden at Brandy Hall and eaten a whole bush of blackberries between them.
The thought of food made him feel queasy and he got up and went to the small dining table where he and Bilbo had shared their supper.
Frodo had not been able to finish, telling his uncle the small fib that he did not care for the spices in the stew.
Bilbo had looked at him concerned and said solicitously, "You aren't sickening, are you Frodo, my lad?"
That being too close to the truth, Frodo shook his head emphatically "no."
Bilbo smiled and said, "Just so long as that is the only reason you are not eating!"
Frodo had smiled back and said, "Of course Uncle. It is just the food."
The young hobbit got up nervously and went and sat on the bed, still holding his stomach. This was not only his first day here, but his first visit ever to the annual Fall Festival in Michel Delving and he had really been looking forward to it!
He had only been given a two-week stay with his Uncle Bilbo, as everyone thought it would be good for the hobbit child to get some individual attention. Something he was sorely lacking in the crowded halls of the Brandybucks. Needless to say, this was the first time he had gone to an event such as this. There had been little time for such frivolities at Brandy Hall for an orphaned cousin.
Frodo curled up on the bed, hoping the change in position would help and just as he thought he might actually be able to relax, the sharp pain returned.
"I can't tell Uncle Bilbo I am sick," he thought, tears sparkling in his eyes. "Then we'll have to go home and I will never get to the Mathom Sale!"
Pacing the small room did no good either, and finally, Frodo impulsively decided to get some fresh air.
Carefully going down the back stairs, which led to the stable yard, Frodo crossed the smooth stone courtyard. Finding a back gate, he opened it and saw a path that followed the creek running behind the Hidden Haven Inn.
He walked along slowly, still clutching his painful stomach. Suddenly, the little dinner he had eaten forced itself up, and the small hobbit threw up against a tree. Leaning against the trunk until the nausea passed, Frodo wiped his mouth with a grimace and then staggered away. Oh, that had really made his stomach hurt! He walked unsteadily away and rubbed his tummy, trying to get the tight muscles to relax.
Perhaps it was the crisp fall air and the bright stars, but he began to feel himself calm down some and he cautiously let his arms fall from holding his stomach.
Frodo, relieved the pain had faded away, started singing an old Elvish song Bilbo had taught him on the trip to Michel Delving to bolster his spirits. Caught up in the song, he strolled far longer and farther than he intended.
As he finished the last chorus, he thought he heard an answering voice singing harmony and paused. Looking around, he frowned slightly as he noticed he was deep in the woods to the west of town. He listened again for the singer, but all was silent.
Shaking his head, he smiled to himself. No one around here would know Elvish! Why he barely knew it himself! Uncle Bilbo had promised to teach him more that just the song too. He turned and went back to Michel Delving, glad he had taken the walk, still humming the song. And just before he reached the end of the woods, again, he thought he heard the chorus of the song repeated softly. But it sounded far away, like an echo. Frodo looked up at the night sky and saw the Mariner's Star, Earendil. Feeling a bit saucy, in spite of his stomach, he saluted it.
As he avoided a farmer's cart loaded with hay close to town, the stomach pain returned with a vengeance, and caught off guard by the intensity, Frodo, tripped and fell into a dry drainage ditch that paralleled the road.
Scrambling painfully back to the road, he looked ruefully at the hole in his pants that revealed a skinned knee as well. Just one more thing to worry Uncle Bilbo!
Limping, with tears in his eyes, he made his way back to the inn.
It seemed to take forever to go up the back stairs and he was never so glad to reach his room.
Just as he was about to go in though, he heard voices on the other side of the door. Pausing to listen (a survival technique he had learned at Brandy Hall), he heard his uncle say to someone, ".if that is really the case, Marga, the other Brandybucks should be told. It might not just be me who has gotten the worst of the lot. Heaven knows I don't want anything diseased in Bag End. I shall have to insist on a return."
Frodo moved away from the door and fell against the corridor wall aghast.
Was Uncle Bilbo going to send him back to the Brandybucks ?
"He must have known I was really sick," Frodo thought. "And taking care of me has just gotten to be too much for him. I disturb his writing and his gardening and his mushroom hunting." The last thought made his stomach roil, and he bent over, trying to swallow his exclamation of pain.
Not wanting to embarrass Bilbo by walking into his conversation in his "diseased" condition, Frodo sadly went down the corridor and down the stairs again.
Where could he go?
Looking around, he thought of the stables, but he knew they were crowded with horses and ostlers and it wasn't likely he could sneak in there unobserved.
Still gripping his stomach, he went back out the small gate to the river path, trying to find a place for the night at least. He knew, with these pains, he would not be able to sleep much. So hopefully, in a few hours, his Uncle Bilbo would be deep in dreams and Frodo could sneak back into their room and get his rucksack.
The water of the stream beckoned, making Frodo realize how thirsty he was. He bent and drank carefully several handfuls and then got slowly up and continued his ramble.
Spying a platform obviously made by children in the crotch of an oak leaning over the stream, Frodo clambered up and huddled next to the bole of the tree, shivering in the fall night air.
Staring through the leaves, Frodo saw Earendil again, twinkling hopefully it seemed to him. Maybe he could go live with the elves. Bilbo had always told him how nice the elves were in Rivendell.
Able to sleep for a few hours, Frodo awoke gasping in pain again. Would this never stop? Getting up stiffly, he rubbed his skinned knee, wincing and then slowly made his way back down the tree and returned to the inn.
Creeping up the back stairs, he went to their room and unlocked the door. But no one was in there! Where had Bilbo gone? He hadn't left Michel Delving already, had he?
Frodo went to the bureau and was relieved to see Bilbo's things were still in the drawers. Grabbing his belongings, Frodo hastily stuffed them into his rucksack. Well, he might as well take advantage of Bilbo's absence. Perhaps he had gone visiting with friends and was still in a corner by the fire telling stories. He loved to tell stories. And Frodo paused a moment and swallowed a sob. What he would give to be listening to Bilbo recite a poem by the cheery fire in the Bag End parlor! If only he wasn't "diseased!"
Finished packing, Frodo looked around again, eyes filled with tears quietly crept out.
In a few minutes, he was back under the oak. Looking up into the branches, he sighed, wincing at his painful stomach. He didn't have the energy to climb again.
Adjusting the straps of his rucksack, he started following the stream again.
Bilbo had stayed up late talking with friends, right in the inn common room. Since his travels rarely took him this far west, he had lots of catching up to do. And he had gotten quite a few stories to share with young Frodo!
But the four hobbits gathered in a circle not only realized the late hour, but saw the fire had sunk to glowing coals. Cheerily saying good night, they split up and went their various ways.
Humming under his breath, Bilbo unlocked the door and went in. it took him a moment to realize there was no youngster sleeping in the other bed.
"Frodo?" He called out quietly. But there was no answer. Bilbo even looked under the bed, but no Frodo.
Pausing in the middle of the room, he tried to think if he had mentioned anyone he would go visiting with, but no one came to mind.
Waiting to see if perhaps he gone to the privy, he got worried after a half hour and went out of the inn in search of his missing nephew