The little hobbit grew more uncomfortable as they awaited the return of
Mister Dobbins.
Bilbo wrung his hands as he listened to the moans of his little nephew, finally, he went and soaked a hand towel in the basin on the bureau and brought it over to Frodo. Tenderly wiping the feverish hobbit child down, he did his best to cool him.
Putting an extra strong dose of the painkiller into a sweetened cup of tea, Bilbo brought it over to the distraught hobbit child.
"Here Frodo my lad, drink this, this will help with the your sore tummy."
Frodo's pain filled eyes fell on his Uncle Bilbo whose anxious face smiling down at him made him burst into tears.
"Oh Uncle Bilbo! I am sorry my tummy is not behaving! I am really a good boy! Really! I don't mean to be so much trouble." And he took the mug of tea and drank it all down.
"There, there Frodo. You are behaving just fine. And your tummy, well, your tummy is just a bit infected. And if Mister Dobbins finds Mistress Barnstaple and the medicine she has, well everything will be fine again!"
But going through the litany of what ifs, Bilbo realized that again, things could go very awry at this point.
The pain killer thankfully helped Frodo settle into an uneasy dose.
Bilbo was just bathing the child when a discreet knock marked the return of Mister Dobbins.
His face was serious as he let himself in quietly.
"I am afraid I have both sorts of news, Mister Baggins. Mistress Barnstaple did have some medicine for infection, but she can only spare a little as the Applewood children have the scarlet spots and her supplies have been sorely tried as well. Let us see if we can't get the little fellow to take what I have here."
Bilbo grasped the healer's hand and nodded grim faced. "All right then. We get little Frodo to take this dose. What then, shall we do for later?"
"Plenty of fluids, Mister Baggins, and tepid baths to lower his temperature as best we can. And hope the little lad is strong enough to fight this off himself. Has he normally been healthy?"
"I think so, but I do not know for sure Mister Dobbins. You see he usually lives with his cousins. He is here with me just for a visit." Bilbo sat on the chair next to the fever-hot face of his nephew. "This trip to Michel Delving was supposed to be a nice treat for him. A change of scenery, and- and---" Bilbo covered his face with his hands and sobbed silently for a moment.
Mister Dobbins put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Well, we shall do all we can Mister Baggins. All we can." Patting the distraught hobbit, Mister Dobbins then went to the bureau and found a clean glass and carefully poured in the small vial of medicine given to him by Mistress Barnstaple. There was barely a quarter inch. Smiling grimly, the healer then added the last of the apple juice and stirred it a few times.
"Young Frodo will probably not like the taste of this, even with the apple juice. But he must drink all of it."
Nodding, Bilbo reluctantly went to his nephew side and woke him.
Frodo, his face unfocused by sleep and his eyes dull with fever peered at his uncle. "My eyes are not working well Uncle Bilbo." He rubbed them vigorously. "I cannot see well."
The healer and Bilbo exchanged looks.
Bilbo said, with a slight hitch in his voice, "Fro-frodo my lad. Here, I have got some nice new medicine for you. It will help your sore tummy."
Frodo, fretful, turned his head away. "No, no Uncle Bilbo. No my throat is too sore."
"All the more reason for you to drink this lad." The news of the sore throat alarmed both Mister Dobbins and Bilbo who knew any complications at this point were not good.
Bilbo brought the cup to Frodo's small mouth, but the hobbit child tightened his lips and shook his head.
Mister Dobbins, having dealt with stubborn children a little more frequently, came over with a big smile and taking the cup from the elder hobbit, sat on the edge of Frodo's bed and smiled as friendly as he could.
"Frodo, I know your throat is sore. All dry and scratchy, like you've swallowed a lot of sand, isn't it?"
Frodo nodded slowly. "It hurts to talk," he added.
Nodding, the healer got more comfortable. "Oh I know exactly what you mean Frodo. I had a throat like that once. Nasty scratchy thing it was too. And I didn't want to take the medicine the healer had for me either." Master Dobbins looked down and shook his head slowly, falling silent.
Finally Frodo asked, "Wha-what happened?"
"I lost my voice I am afraid."
Mister Dobbins went quiet again, staring at the glass he held.
"How did-how did you find it again?"
"Well, I spent many days in bed, unable to talk or eat or have sweets. And I could not tell my mama what I wanted nor even complain about my suffering until one evening, when I was very hungry and thirsty, she came in with the glass of medicine and asked me to try again."
"Did you?"
"I did, and I found my voice again, after I drank the medicine. And the funny thing was, I actually got much better and soon, in a couple of days, I was able to get out of bed and sit in the parlor."
Frodo was silent at this. Finally he weakly touched the healer's hands holding the glass.
"All right I guess. I will drink it. I would not like it if I was not able to ask for sweets."
"As I did not either. Good lad!"
Mister Dobbins carefully helped the child drink down the medicine, Bilbo watching in relief.
The healer rose with a sigh taking the empty glass back to the bureau with a meaningful look at the elder hobbit, who smiled gratefully in return.
Frodo lay there watching the other two and his eyes kept going soft as if he was looking through thin cloth. His head whirled every time he moved it. Even a little. The child rolled over and put a small hand to the hot flesh of his stomach and tears leaked out from his closed eyes. He was never going to get better. Even if he did have his voice back. His tummy was just one big pain, as if all the Bolger boys had punched him all at once.
Groaning he rolled over again and then, rolled back over. He could not get comfortable. But he kept silent. If he said anything, all he would get was more medicine. And though he was glad his voice had not been lost, he was still miserable.
He put his hand over his face and burrowed into the pillow.
Bilbo and the healer, after conferring, came up to Frodo's side and the healer lay a hand on the hobbit child's forehead.
"It is still early to tell Mister Baggins. We don't we both have a little supper and come back and see how the little one fares?"
Bilbo frowned slightly at the healer. "I just feel I should stay with Frodo. Let us order supper here."
"All right."
Bilbo went and rang the bell rope for Dilly and when she appeared he ordered the meal of the day, a rich coney stew and dumplings, stewed greens with raspberries, fried potatoes and a couple of pints of the deep brown ale.
For little Frodo, though Bilbo did not have much hope that he would eat, he ordered beef broth with toast and another pitcher of icy cold apple juice.
Frodo spent most of the evening in and out of delirium and Bilbo and the healer did everything they could to keep the hobbit child as comfortable as possible: cooling baths and lots of fluids. Fluids that unfortunately Frodo fought them on.
The two adults heard the last call bell from the tavern and the healer rose slowly from his seat. He went over to the now sleeping child and softly brushed his damp hair off his forehead and then looked at the exhausted Bilbo.
"I think he will sleep for awhile now Bilbo. Why don't you get some sleep yourself. I am going home to the missus. You know where to find me if anything changes."
"All right. Thank you Thomas. I appreciate all your concern and help today."
"My pleasure." The healer ran a hand through Frodo's curls one more time and then turned, adjusting his coat, picked up his medical bag and left, softly closing the door.
Bilbo stared at the flushed face of his little nephew and bit his lip in consternation. Oh poor little mite! What were they going to do for the next few days while they hovered, waiting and watching to see if Frodo could indeed recover on his own?"
Bilbo sank down by the youngster's bedside and put his arms around the small hot form.
"Oh my poor lad. Get better!"
Bilbo wrung his hands as he listened to the moans of his little nephew, finally, he went and soaked a hand towel in the basin on the bureau and brought it over to Frodo. Tenderly wiping the feverish hobbit child down, he did his best to cool him.
Putting an extra strong dose of the painkiller into a sweetened cup of tea, Bilbo brought it over to the distraught hobbit child.
"Here Frodo my lad, drink this, this will help with the your sore tummy."
Frodo's pain filled eyes fell on his Uncle Bilbo whose anxious face smiling down at him made him burst into tears.
"Oh Uncle Bilbo! I am sorry my tummy is not behaving! I am really a good boy! Really! I don't mean to be so much trouble." And he took the mug of tea and drank it all down.
"There, there Frodo. You are behaving just fine. And your tummy, well, your tummy is just a bit infected. And if Mister Dobbins finds Mistress Barnstaple and the medicine she has, well everything will be fine again!"
But going through the litany of what ifs, Bilbo realized that again, things could go very awry at this point.
The pain killer thankfully helped Frodo settle into an uneasy dose.
Bilbo was just bathing the child when a discreet knock marked the return of Mister Dobbins.
His face was serious as he let himself in quietly.
"I am afraid I have both sorts of news, Mister Baggins. Mistress Barnstaple did have some medicine for infection, but she can only spare a little as the Applewood children have the scarlet spots and her supplies have been sorely tried as well. Let us see if we can't get the little fellow to take what I have here."
Bilbo grasped the healer's hand and nodded grim faced. "All right then. We get little Frodo to take this dose. What then, shall we do for later?"
"Plenty of fluids, Mister Baggins, and tepid baths to lower his temperature as best we can. And hope the little lad is strong enough to fight this off himself. Has he normally been healthy?"
"I think so, but I do not know for sure Mister Dobbins. You see he usually lives with his cousins. He is here with me just for a visit." Bilbo sat on the chair next to the fever-hot face of his nephew. "This trip to Michel Delving was supposed to be a nice treat for him. A change of scenery, and- and---" Bilbo covered his face with his hands and sobbed silently for a moment.
Mister Dobbins put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Well, we shall do all we can Mister Baggins. All we can." Patting the distraught hobbit, Mister Dobbins then went to the bureau and found a clean glass and carefully poured in the small vial of medicine given to him by Mistress Barnstaple. There was barely a quarter inch. Smiling grimly, the healer then added the last of the apple juice and stirred it a few times.
"Young Frodo will probably not like the taste of this, even with the apple juice. But he must drink all of it."
Nodding, Bilbo reluctantly went to his nephew side and woke him.
Frodo, his face unfocused by sleep and his eyes dull with fever peered at his uncle. "My eyes are not working well Uncle Bilbo." He rubbed them vigorously. "I cannot see well."
The healer and Bilbo exchanged looks.
Bilbo said, with a slight hitch in his voice, "Fro-frodo my lad. Here, I have got some nice new medicine for you. It will help your sore tummy."
Frodo, fretful, turned his head away. "No, no Uncle Bilbo. No my throat is too sore."
"All the more reason for you to drink this lad." The news of the sore throat alarmed both Mister Dobbins and Bilbo who knew any complications at this point were not good.
Bilbo brought the cup to Frodo's small mouth, but the hobbit child tightened his lips and shook his head.
Mister Dobbins, having dealt with stubborn children a little more frequently, came over with a big smile and taking the cup from the elder hobbit, sat on the edge of Frodo's bed and smiled as friendly as he could.
"Frodo, I know your throat is sore. All dry and scratchy, like you've swallowed a lot of sand, isn't it?"
Frodo nodded slowly. "It hurts to talk," he added.
Nodding, the healer got more comfortable. "Oh I know exactly what you mean Frodo. I had a throat like that once. Nasty scratchy thing it was too. And I didn't want to take the medicine the healer had for me either." Master Dobbins looked down and shook his head slowly, falling silent.
Finally Frodo asked, "Wha-what happened?"
"I lost my voice I am afraid."
Mister Dobbins went quiet again, staring at the glass he held.
"How did-how did you find it again?"
"Well, I spent many days in bed, unable to talk or eat or have sweets. And I could not tell my mama what I wanted nor even complain about my suffering until one evening, when I was very hungry and thirsty, she came in with the glass of medicine and asked me to try again."
"Did you?"
"I did, and I found my voice again, after I drank the medicine. And the funny thing was, I actually got much better and soon, in a couple of days, I was able to get out of bed and sit in the parlor."
Frodo was silent at this. Finally he weakly touched the healer's hands holding the glass.
"All right I guess. I will drink it. I would not like it if I was not able to ask for sweets."
"As I did not either. Good lad!"
Mister Dobbins carefully helped the child drink down the medicine, Bilbo watching in relief.
The healer rose with a sigh taking the empty glass back to the bureau with a meaningful look at the elder hobbit, who smiled gratefully in return.
Frodo lay there watching the other two and his eyes kept going soft as if he was looking through thin cloth. His head whirled every time he moved it. Even a little. The child rolled over and put a small hand to the hot flesh of his stomach and tears leaked out from his closed eyes. He was never going to get better. Even if he did have his voice back. His tummy was just one big pain, as if all the Bolger boys had punched him all at once.
Groaning he rolled over again and then, rolled back over. He could not get comfortable. But he kept silent. If he said anything, all he would get was more medicine. And though he was glad his voice had not been lost, he was still miserable.
He put his hand over his face and burrowed into the pillow.
Bilbo and the healer, after conferring, came up to Frodo's side and the healer lay a hand on the hobbit child's forehead.
"It is still early to tell Mister Baggins. We don't we both have a little supper and come back and see how the little one fares?"
Bilbo frowned slightly at the healer. "I just feel I should stay with Frodo. Let us order supper here."
"All right."
Bilbo went and rang the bell rope for Dilly and when she appeared he ordered the meal of the day, a rich coney stew and dumplings, stewed greens with raspberries, fried potatoes and a couple of pints of the deep brown ale.
For little Frodo, though Bilbo did not have much hope that he would eat, he ordered beef broth with toast and another pitcher of icy cold apple juice.
Frodo spent most of the evening in and out of delirium and Bilbo and the healer did everything they could to keep the hobbit child as comfortable as possible: cooling baths and lots of fluids. Fluids that unfortunately Frodo fought them on.
The two adults heard the last call bell from the tavern and the healer rose slowly from his seat. He went over to the now sleeping child and softly brushed his damp hair off his forehead and then looked at the exhausted Bilbo.
"I think he will sleep for awhile now Bilbo. Why don't you get some sleep yourself. I am going home to the missus. You know where to find me if anything changes."
"All right. Thank you Thomas. I appreciate all your concern and help today."
"My pleasure." The healer ran a hand through Frodo's curls one more time and then turned, adjusting his coat, picked up his medical bag and left, softly closing the door.
Bilbo stared at the flushed face of his little nephew and bit his lip in consternation. Oh poor little mite! What were they going to do for the next few days while they hovered, waiting and watching to see if Frodo could indeed recover on his own?"
Bilbo sank down by the youngster's bedside and put his arms around the small hot form.
"Oh my poor lad. Get better!"