Three days went by in a dreary parade.
Little Frodo would wake up hot with fever and Bilbo and Thomas Dobbins did what they could to lower his temperature. But he did not want to eat or drink much and the two adults were getting frantic.
Poor little Frodo was slipping away.
His dry hot skin did not respond to baths of any sort and the counter irritant solution offered by Mistress Barnstaple seemed to only make the child more fretful and miserable, so after the second try, Bilbo stopped using it.
And now to add to the wee one's distress, he had blisters on his tummy from the counter irritant.
Bilbo himself, was losing his appetite as he was consumed by worry and helplessness. And he did not sleep well, every little sound from Frodo's bed jerking him awake.
The third afternoon, Bilbo was holding his little nephew's hand, and rubbing it repeatedly. Frodo did not stir. Even when he and Dobbins had poured some water down his throat and gotten him to swallow it, the child did not fuss.
"Bilbo." Master Dobbins put his hand on the hobbit's shoulder. "I do not think there is anything more we can do. I have run out of ideas." The healer slumped into a nearby chair and put his head in his hands. "Poor little lad. He's burning up and burning away."
"Well, I am not giving up. Hand me the bowl and a fresh towel, I shall try another bath to cool him off. And if you will be so kind as to give me a glass of the watered down fruit juice and honey, I shall try to get him to drink again."
The healer shook his head but did as Bilbo asked.
He had seen cases like this before, sadly enough. The little one slipping off into darkness and the family reluctant to let him go even though the child was in terrible pain and was not going to recover.
As Bilbo and the healer lifted Frodo and the elder hobbit awoke his little nephew, Frodo's pain-filled eyes fell on them uncomprehendingly.
"Where are the elves Uncle Bilbo?" he said hoarsely. "I heard them singing. They sing very nice." He coughed for a moment.
The two adults looked at each other and Bilbo, swallowing his tears smiled tremulously and wiped his nephew's hair back from his oh so hot forehead.
"The elves are only in your dreams little Frodo.."
"No. No I can hear them Uncle. I can see them too. Pretty grey eyes, they always smile at me. He is coming. He said so."
"Of course lad, of course." Bilbo bit back his tears.
Finished washing Frodo down, the hobbit redressed the child, wincing at the sight of his abused flesh. And the heat of it. Oh stars in heaven! What had he done! What had he done?
Bilbo, coming to a decision, looked up at the healer still watching in concern and said, "Mister Dobbins, as you say, there is nothing else you can do. I thank you for all your help." He stood and shook the man's hand solemnly. The healer paused and looked at the hobbit and then turned, shaking his head and quietly left. He did not look forward to hearing the little one had died.
Bilbo got the last of the elvish painkiller and mixed in with some juice. Waking Frodo from his doze, he put the glass to the little ones parched lips and was relieved that Frodo drank it all.
Laying him back, Bilbo put the glass aside and then bent and kissed his nephew. Slipping beside him in the bed, Bilbo gently picked up Frodo. Wincing at the terrible sound of his breathing, he adjusted the little one, who felt light as a feather in his arms until he cuddled him close against his chest.
Giving into tears, Bilbo cried himself to sleep.
The bedside candle had burned down to within an inch of the holder.
A thin breeze disturbed the air of the room and made the candle flame dance over the two sleeping hobbits. A light thump was heard from the small dining table as well as the slight rustle of cloth.
A figure came in quietly and standing for a moment at the bedside, wrapped in a swirling dark green cape, he frowned as he lay a hand on the little one's brow. He left it there for a minute and then slightly opening the child's nightshirt, moved his hand to the tiny chest, which was hot and clammy under his palm.
Sighing, the figure looked at the elder hobbit, his frown turning into a slight smile. Poor Bilbo!
And poor Frodo!
Lifting the sick child from Bilbo's lap, he took the little hobbit to the unused bed and lay him gently down.
Returning to Bilbo, he adjusted the older hobbit in the blankets, and lay a hand on his brow for a moment, knowing his friend needed some deep uninterrupted sleep.
Bilbo sighed under the healer's hand and his head slipped to the side.
Lord Elrond then turned his attention to the child.
Dismayed by the signs of infection and the added misery of the counter irritant blisters, he turned to the bureau and looked through the bottles he had left. Where was his tincture for infection?
Perplexed by its absence, he went to his box of medicines, which he had set on the table as he came in. He brought out several items that he knew he would need to tend to Frodo.
He undressed the child and warming the air with a gentle glow of radiance from Vilya, he set to work.
Uncertain how the child had gotten the blisters where he had, Elrond gently salving the sores and then lay a hand on them to send energy to speed the healing. The plight of the little one tore at his heart.
The incision was badly infected. Pressing softly on it, he frowned at the tightness. He was going to have to re-incise the wound, drain it and clean it thoroughly.
He turned to his box and removed his surgical kit.
As he was doing so, Frodo stirred and opened his eyes. His head didn't feel quite so awful but his tummy still hurt.
And he wasn't wearing a nightshirt again! "Uncle Bilbo?" he said his scratchy throat hurting terribly, "I am so thirsty---" He sucked in his breath in fear when he saw the tall figure at the table.
The elven lord turned from his supplies and going to the pitcher nearby, he poured some water and a few drops of syrup of poppy into a glass for the child. Swirling the medicine, he brought it over to Frodo.
The hobbit rubbed his dry eyes. "You ca-came back! I saw you! And I heard singing!"
Elrond sat slowly next to the child and very carefully sat him up, mindful of the wounds.
"Here little Frodo. Drink this." While the hobbit dutifully drank the medicine, Elrond smiled saying, "You heard our singing because you are an elf friend little one. Someone dear to the hearts of the Noldor."
Frodo's voice echoed slightly in the now empty cup. "I saw you! I saw your eyes! "
"Perhaps little one, it was just a dream." Elrond lay the child back and bent over him, his long dark hair swinging like curtains along his jaw. He brushed the hair off Frodo's forehead and then bent and kissed him. "Sleep now sweet one. Sleep and dream of your heart's content. I will be here when you awaken."
Elrond carefully straightened the hobbit child's limbs and then got his surgical tools. He set to work opening up the incision, gently cleaning out the pus and coating the internal stitches with antiseptic tincture and then very carefully re-suturing the initial incision. Finished, he methodically rubbed some painkilling salve around the new stitches.
Binding the wound, he straightened slowly and stretched out a small kink in his back. Cleaning his surgical instruments, he put away his supplies and then once again lay a hand on the child's abdomen, sending deep healing warmth through the flesh.
Satisfied with his work, the healer got comfortable by the fire and wrote in his journal.
As the sun rose, Elrond went to the shutters and opened them to let in the cool breeze and bird song. He then turned to the sleeping hobbits.
Checking on Frodo first, he was pleased to see that the warmth of his flesh had cooled some and that the blisters were already drying up. The little one stirred as Elrond examined him and coughed in his sleep.
Frowning at the sound, he turned to his box of medicines and moving many things, he found his vial of cough syrup at the bottom. It wasn't surprising that little Frodo had gotten a raw throat and cough in his condition. Bilbo would have to tell him if the child had any more complaints.
He poured some cough syrup in a glass and added only a little water.
Going over to the room service bell, he gave it a pull. He waited for the maid and when there was a discreet knock, he opened the door and immediately brought a finger to his lips.
The maid's eyes went wide and she nodded opened-mouth.
Smiling, Elrond spoke for her ears only. "Would you bring up a breakfast suitable for a hungry hobbit? And for the little one, some soft eggs, juice and porridge? Oh, and honey please and enough hot water for bathing and some tea."
"Yes my lord," Fanny curtsied awkwardly and backed away hitting the corridor wall as she did so. Still looking at the elf lord with an open mouth, Elrond smiled as he softly shut the door.
As he turned back to the room, he saw Bilbo stirring.
"Good morning my friend. Sleep well?"
"Lord Elrond!" Bilbo sat up, rubbed his eyes and jumped off the bed. Running over he took one of the elf lord's hands between his and squeezed it gratefully.
"Oh my lord, I am so glad you are here! Little Frodo broke the bottle of medicine for infections and I-I tried everything to fix the problem, but he has not improved. And he is in such a decline! Can you help him?"
"I have already done what I can Bilbo. He is sleeping." The healer looked at the little one. "Has he complained of a cough or sore throat?"
"Yes, poor lad. He's been in a very bad way."
"All right then. I have ordered breakfast, and hot water. It all should be here momentarily." Elrond sat down at the table and looked at the elder hobbit, his dark grey eyes glittering in the morning light. "Come tell me Bilbo, what happened to little Frodo? How did he get so ill?"
"Well, I am not completely sure. He was mending quite nicely for several days and then, he began a decline. We think it was because he made a visit to the stables and may have gotten a bit dirty. And then the bottle of medicine you left got broken and I called in a local healer, Thomas Dobbins, a very kindly man. He did what he could and then I went to Mistress Barnstaple and she said try a counter irritant and that just gave Frodo blisters!"
The hobbit put his head in his hands. "Little Frodo thought I was torturing him for having a bad tummy."
Elrond was about to reply, when the two heard a wail come from the bed.
Little Frodo would wake up hot with fever and Bilbo and Thomas Dobbins did what they could to lower his temperature. But he did not want to eat or drink much and the two adults were getting frantic.
Poor little Frodo was slipping away.
His dry hot skin did not respond to baths of any sort and the counter irritant solution offered by Mistress Barnstaple seemed to only make the child more fretful and miserable, so after the second try, Bilbo stopped using it.
And now to add to the wee one's distress, he had blisters on his tummy from the counter irritant.
Bilbo himself, was losing his appetite as he was consumed by worry and helplessness. And he did not sleep well, every little sound from Frodo's bed jerking him awake.
The third afternoon, Bilbo was holding his little nephew's hand, and rubbing it repeatedly. Frodo did not stir. Even when he and Dobbins had poured some water down his throat and gotten him to swallow it, the child did not fuss.
"Bilbo." Master Dobbins put his hand on the hobbit's shoulder. "I do not think there is anything more we can do. I have run out of ideas." The healer slumped into a nearby chair and put his head in his hands. "Poor little lad. He's burning up and burning away."
"Well, I am not giving up. Hand me the bowl and a fresh towel, I shall try another bath to cool him off. And if you will be so kind as to give me a glass of the watered down fruit juice and honey, I shall try to get him to drink again."
The healer shook his head but did as Bilbo asked.
He had seen cases like this before, sadly enough. The little one slipping off into darkness and the family reluctant to let him go even though the child was in terrible pain and was not going to recover.
As Bilbo and the healer lifted Frodo and the elder hobbit awoke his little nephew, Frodo's pain-filled eyes fell on them uncomprehendingly.
"Where are the elves Uncle Bilbo?" he said hoarsely. "I heard them singing. They sing very nice." He coughed for a moment.
The two adults looked at each other and Bilbo, swallowing his tears smiled tremulously and wiped his nephew's hair back from his oh so hot forehead.
"The elves are only in your dreams little Frodo.."
"No. No I can hear them Uncle. I can see them too. Pretty grey eyes, they always smile at me. He is coming. He said so."
"Of course lad, of course." Bilbo bit back his tears.
Finished washing Frodo down, the hobbit redressed the child, wincing at the sight of his abused flesh. And the heat of it. Oh stars in heaven! What had he done! What had he done?
Bilbo, coming to a decision, looked up at the healer still watching in concern and said, "Mister Dobbins, as you say, there is nothing else you can do. I thank you for all your help." He stood and shook the man's hand solemnly. The healer paused and looked at the hobbit and then turned, shaking his head and quietly left. He did not look forward to hearing the little one had died.
Bilbo got the last of the elvish painkiller and mixed in with some juice. Waking Frodo from his doze, he put the glass to the little ones parched lips and was relieved that Frodo drank it all.
Laying him back, Bilbo put the glass aside and then bent and kissed his nephew. Slipping beside him in the bed, Bilbo gently picked up Frodo. Wincing at the terrible sound of his breathing, he adjusted the little one, who felt light as a feather in his arms until he cuddled him close against his chest.
Giving into tears, Bilbo cried himself to sleep.
The bedside candle had burned down to within an inch of the holder.
A thin breeze disturbed the air of the room and made the candle flame dance over the two sleeping hobbits. A light thump was heard from the small dining table as well as the slight rustle of cloth.
A figure came in quietly and standing for a moment at the bedside, wrapped in a swirling dark green cape, he frowned as he lay a hand on the little one's brow. He left it there for a minute and then slightly opening the child's nightshirt, moved his hand to the tiny chest, which was hot and clammy under his palm.
Sighing, the figure looked at the elder hobbit, his frown turning into a slight smile. Poor Bilbo!
And poor Frodo!
Lifting the sick child from Bilbo's lap, he took the little hobbit to the unused bed and lay him gently down.
Returning to Bilbo, he adjusted the older hobbit in the blankets, and lay a hand on his brow for a moment, knowing his friend needed some deep uninterrupted sleep.
Bilbo sighed under the healer's hand and his head slipped to the side.
Lord Elrond then turned his attention to the child.
Dismayed by the signs of infection and the added misery of the counter irritant blisters, he turned to the bureau and looked through the bottles he had left. Where was his tincture for infection?
Perplexed by its absence, he went to his box of medicines, which he had set on the table as he came in. He brought out several items that he knew he would need to tend to Frodo.
He undressed the child and warming the air with a gentle glow of radiance from Vilya, he set to work.
Uncertain how the child had gotten the blisters where he had, Elrond gently salving the sores and then lay a hand on them to send energy to speed the healing. The plight of the little one tore at his heart.
The incision was badly infected. Pressing softly on it, he frowned at the tightness. He was going to have to re-incise the wound, drain it and clean it thoroughly.
He turned to his box and removed his surgical kit.
As he was doing so, Frodo stirred and opened his eyes. His head didn't feel quite so awful but his tummy still hurt.
And he wasn't wearing a nightshirt again! "Uncle Bilbo?" he said his scratchy throat hurting terribly, "I am so thirsty---" He sucked in his breath in fear when he saw the tall figure at the table.
The elven lord turned from his supplies and going to the pitcher nearby, he poured some water and a few drops of syrup of poppy into a glass for the child. Swirling the medicine, he brought it over to Frodo.
The hobbit rubbed his dry eyes. "You ca-came back! I saw you! And I heard singing!"
Elrond sat slowly next to the child and very carefully sat him up, mindful of the wounds.
"Here little Frodo. Drink this." While the hobbit dutifully drank the medicine, Elrond smiled saying, "You heard our singing because you are an elf friend little one. Someone dear to the hearts of the Noldor."
Frodo's voice echoed slightly in the now empty cup. "I saw you! I saw your eyes! "
"Perhaps little one, it was just a dream." Elrond lay the child back and bent over him, his long dark hair swinging like curtains along his jaw. He brushed the hair off Frodo's forehead and then bent and kissed him. "Sleep now sweet one. Sleep and dream of your heart's content. I will be here when you awaken."
Elrond carefully straightened the hobbit child's limbs and then got his surgical tools. He set to work opening up the incision, gently cleaning out the pus and coating the internal stitches with antiseptic tincture and then very carefully re-suturing the initial incision. Finished, he methodically rubbed some painkilling salve around the new stitches.
Binding the wound, he straightened slowly and stretched out a small kink in his back. Cleaning his surgical instruments, he put away his supplies and then once again lay a hand on the child's abdomen, sending deep healing warmth through the flesh.
Satisfied with his work, the healer got comfortable by the fire and wrote in his journal.
As the sun rose, Elrond went to the shutters and opened them to let in the cool breeze and bird song. He then turned to the sleeping hobbits.
Checking on Frodo first, he was pleased to see that the warmth of his flesh had cooled some and that the blisters were already drying up. The little one stirred as Elrond examined him and coughed in his sleep.
Frowning at the sound, he turned to his box of medicines and moving many things, he found his vial of cough syrup at the bottom. It wasn't surprising that little Frodo had gotten a raw throat and cough in his condition. Bilbo would have to tell him if the child had any more complaints.
He poured some cough syrup in a glass and added only a little water.
Going over to the room service bell, he gave it a pull. He waited for the maid and when there was a discreet knock, he opened the door and immediately brought a finger to his lips.
The maid's eyes went wide and she nodded opened-mouth.
Smiling, Elrond spoke for her ears only. "Would you bring up a breakfast suitable for a hungry hobbit? And for the little one, some soft eggs, juice and porridge? Oh, and honey please and enough hot water for bathing and some tea."
"Yes my lord," Fanny curtsied awkwardly and backed away hitting the corridor wall as she did so. Still looking at the elf lord with an open mouth, Elrond smiled as he softly shut the door.
As he turned back to the room, he saw Bilbo stirring.
"Good morning my friend. Sleep well?"
"Lord Elrond!" Bilbo sat up, rubbed his eyes and jumped off the bed. Running over he took one of the elf lord's hands between his and squeezed it gratefully.
"Oh my lord, I am so glad you are here! Little Frodo broke the bottle of medicine for infections and I-I tried everything to fix the problem, but he has not improved. And he is in such a decline! Can you help him?"
"I have already done what I can Bilbo. He is sleeping." The healer looked at the little one. "Has he complained of a cough or sore throat?"
"Yes, poor lad. He's been in a very bad way."
"All right then. I have ordered breakfast, and hot water. It all should be here momentarily." Elrond sat down at the table and looked at the elder hobbit, his dark grey eyes glittering in the morning light. "Come tell me Bilbo, what happened to little Frodo? How did he get so ill?"
"Well, I am not completely sure. He was mending quite nicely for several days and then, he began a decline. We think it was because he made a visit to the stables and may have gotten a bit dirty. And then the bottle of medicine you left got broken and I called in a local healer, Thomas Dobbins, a very kindly man. He did what he could and then I went to Mistress Barnstaple and she said try a counter irritant and that just gave Frodo blisters!"
The hobbit put his head in his hands. "Little Frodo thought I was torturing him for having a bad tummy."
Elrond was about to reply, when the two heard a wail come from the bed.