A/N----I wasn't going to write another chapter, but shirebound asked so
nicely, I whipped this up. Don't ask for a third chapter, as there isn't
one. Sorry.
**Peppermint Tea**
Many years later, Frodo sat around a campfire in Hollin with the rest of the Fellowship of the Ring. Gandalf, Aragorn, and Gimli were smoking their pipes, deep in conversation. Legolas and Boromir could be seen just outside the camp, gathering extra firewood. Sam tended the fire and cooked. Merry and Pippin chased each other around the campsite, causing Frodo to wonder where in the Shire they got the energy. He himself was wiped out. His feet hurt, his head hurt, and his stomach was slightly upset. The Quest was barely begun, and already Frodo was very tired of it. All in all, he was not a happy hobbit.
He leaned back against Bill the pony and rubbed his aching feet. He was acutely aware of the Ring, heavy against his chest. Not for the first time, he wondered whatever had possessed him to volunteer to bear it to its destruction. Then he watched Merry and Pippin roughhousing, glanced over at Sam so studiously preparing dinner, and he knew why he volunteered. He did it for them, and for all hobbits. He did it for the Shire. He did it for home.
Frodo closed his eyes, breathing deeply. He was beyond tired. Merry and Pippin's laughter faded away as he drifted into that place between sleep and wakefulness. The hobbit's body grew heavy and his senses dulled with near-sleep. He could still feel the pony against his back, still smell the grass, the smoke from the fire, and whatever Sam was cooking. He could smell something else, too. Just before drifting off, Frodo thought he smelled peppermint tea.
"Let's have a look at you, sweetie," Primula said. "What hurts?"
"Momma?" Frodo asked. "How did you get here? Where are we?"
Primula ruffled her son's dark curls. "You woke me up, silly boy. You said you don't feel well. What hurts, baby?"
"My...my heart," Frodo replied. No, that wasn't right. Wasn't it his tummy that hurt? No, it was his face. And his feet. Or maybe his shoulder? He couldn't remember. One thing needed addressing, however. "But I'm not a baby."
"You'll always be my baby, Frodo." Primula gathered her boy into her arms and hugged him tight.
Frodo clung to his mother. But something cold came between them. Something small, or maybe huge, right on his chest. "It hurts, Momma."
"What hurts, little bee?" his mother whispered, cuddling him and stroking his hair.
"The Ring......" Frodo muttered.
"Sssshhh, love. Let me make you some peppermint tea. Would you like that, my son?"
"Yes, Momma. Please," Frodo replied. But he didn't let his mother go. He felt something horrible would happen if he released his grip on her waist. "Momma?"
"Yes, baby?"
"Stay with me, Momma? Please?"
"Frodo, my love, I will always stay with you," Primula reassured. No sooner had the words left her mouth than she began to fade away. Frodo clung tighter, but it was no use. Within seconds, Primula turned to mist, her reassurances disappearing. Then she was gone.
"MOMMA!!" Frodo screamed. "Come back! You promised!! You promised you'd stay!!"
"I'm here, Mister Frodo. I did stay, really. I'm still here, Mister Frodo. Your Sam is still here," a voice penetrated the nightmare.
Frodo felt someone gently shaking him. He opened his eyes and looked around. "Sam?"
"Yes, Mister Frodo. I'm here and you're safe. I stayed. I'll always stay with you, Mister Frodo," Sam said. He stared worriedly at his master.
Frodo yawned and rubbed his eyes. "What happened?"
"You fell asleep, and had an nightmare. You were calling for someone to stay. I had to wake you, Mister Frodo. I didn't know what else to do," Sam fretted.
"No, you did the right thing, Sam. Thank you."
Merry and Pippin appeared, attracted by the commotion. "Are you all right, Frodo?" Merry asked.
Frodo sighed. "I'm fine, really. I just had a bad dream."
"What were you dreaming?" Pippin wanted to know. Good old Pippin, more curiosity than brains. Frodo was very encouraged by the younger hobbit's predictability.
He also knew that if he did not reply, he'd get no peace until he did. "I was dreaming of my mother."
Pippin nodded. "I never met your mother. Did you, Merry?"
"No, Pip. She died before I was born," Merry replied. "But this isn't the time or the place. Let's let Frodo get some rest."
"No, Merry, it's all right. I don't mind. It's a shame you never met my mother. You would've liked her. You both would have liked her. She was the sweetest hobbit," Frodo said.
"But if your parents hadn't died, you wouldn't have been adopted by Bilbo, and then you wouldn't have the Ring," Pippin pointed out, tactful as always. Merry shot him a disgusted look. "What?" Pippin asked when he saw the expression.
"All this goes to show that some things work in very mysterious ways, Peregrin," Gandalf interrupted, coming over to check on the hobbits. Aragorn was close behind him.
"Are you all right, Frodo?" Strider asked, concerned.
Frodo sighed, and did his best not to sound snippy. "I'm fine. I just had a bad dream, is all. I'm fine now. And hungry," he added, trying to change the subject.
Gandalf smiled at Aragorn. Some things never changed, hobbits among them. Sam leapt at the chance to provide for his master. "I've got some nice stew for you, Mister Frodo, and some peppermint tea to go along with it."
"Peppermint tea?" Frodo asked, surprised. He'd thought that was just his dream.
"Why, yes. I noticed you looking a bit peaked, and peppermint tea's good for what ails you," Sam answered, handing Frodo a bowl with a spoon and a mug. Merry and Pippin, seeing no one was going to wait on them, got up to fetch themselves some food. Gandalf and Aragorn followed, reassured that Frodo was in good hands with Sam.
Frodo took the tea and inhaled deeply. He smiled up at Sam, comforted by his friend's caring. "I know. My mother used to make it for me, whenever I was sick. It reminds me of home."
"I'm glad, Mister Frodo. You need to remember home, on a journey like this," Sam observed as he fixed himself some stew and tea and settled down next to Frodo to eat.
"I do, Sam. I really do. You, and Merry, and Pippin, all help to with that," Frodo replied, taking a sip of his tea. It was sweet with honey, just the way he liked it. He didn't ask where Sam had gotten honey. He was just grateful for it.
Then Gimli, who had gone to help Legolas and Boromir gather wood, returned with them. The entire Fellowship settled down to eat, while the hobbits entertained them all with stories of the Shire. For the first time in a long time, Frodo spoke of his parents. It hurt to talk about them, but not as much as he'd expected. Merry chimed in with tales of Life in Brandy Hall, while Pippin told of the Thain and the rest of his family. Even Sam had tales of his Gaffer and their gardens. The non-hobbit members of the Fellowship, far from being bored, found these simple stories heartwarming. They reminded them that there was more to life than darkness and the threat of war. Frodo's nightmare had brought about a pleasant evening.
Somewhere else, unseen but not unfelt, Primula Baggins smiled down on her baby boy, and sipped her peppermint tea.
**Peppermint Tea**
Many years later, Frodo sat around a campfire in Hollin with the rest of the Fellowship of the Ring. Gandalf, Aragorn, and Gimli were smoking their pipes, deep in conversation. Legolas and Boromir could be seen just outside the camp, gathering extra firewood. Sam tended the fire and cooked. Merry and Pippin chased each other around the campsite, causing Frodo to wonder where in the Shire they got the energy. He himself was wiped out. His feet hurt, his head hurt, and his stomach was slightly upset. The Quest was barely begun, and already Frodo was very tired of it. All in all, he was not a happy hobbit.
He leaned back against Bill the pony and rubbed his aching feet. He was acutely aware of the Ring, heavy against his chest. Not for the first time, he wondered whatever had possessed him to volunteer to bear it to its destruction. Then he watched Merry and Pippin roughhousing, glanced over at Sam so studiously preparing dinner, and he knew why he volunteered. He did it for them, and for all hobbits. He did it for the Shire. He did it for home.
Frodo closed his eyes, breathing deeply. He was beyond tired. Merry and Pippin's laughter faded away as he drifted into that place between sleep and wakefulness. The hobbit's body grew heavy and his senses dulled with near-sleep. He could still feel the pony against his back, still smell the grass, the smoke from the fire, and whatever Sam was cooking. He could smell something else, too. Just before drifting off, Frodo thought he smelled peppermint tea.
"Let's have a look at you, sweetie," Primula said. "What hurts?"
"Momma?" Frodo asked. "How did you get here? Where are we?"
Primula ruffled her son's dark curls. "You woke me up, silly boy. You said you don't feel well. What hurts, baby?"
"My...my heart," Frodo replied. No, that wasn't right. Wasn't it his tummy that hurt? No, it was his face. And his feet. Or maybe his shoulder? He couldn't remember. One thing needed addressing, however. "But I'm not a baby."
"You'll always be my baby, Frodo." Primula gathered her boy into her arms and hugged him tight.
Frodo clung to his mother. But something cold came between them. Something small, or maybe huge, right on his chest. "It hurts, Momma."
"What hurts, little bee?" his mother whispered, cuddling him and stroking his hair.
"The Ring......" Frodo muttered.
"Sssshhh, love. Let me make you some peppermint tea. Would you like that, my son?"
"Yes, Momma. Please," Frodo replied. But he didn't let his mother go. He felt something horrible would happen if he released his grip on her waist. "Momma?"
"Yes, baby?"
"Stay with me, Momma? Please?"
"Frodo, my love, I will always stay with you," Primula reassured. No sooner had the words left her mouth than she began to fade away. Frodo clung tighter, but it was no use. Within seconds, Primula turned to mist, her reassurances disappearing. Then she was gone.
"MOMMA!!" Frodo screamed. "Come back! You promised!! You promised you'd stay!!"
"I'm here, Mister Frodo. I did stay, really. I'm still here, Mister Frodo. Your Sam is still here," a voice penetrated the nightmare.
Frodo felt someone gently shaking him. He opened his eyes and looked around. "Sam?"
"Yes, Mister Frodo. I'm here and you're safe. I stayed. I'll always stay with you, Mister Frodo," Sam said. He stared worriedly at his master.
Frodo yawned and rubbed his eyes. "What happened?"
"You fell asleep, and had an nightmare. You were calling for someone to stay. I had to wake you, Mister Frodo. I didn't know what else to do," Sam fretted.
"No, you did the right thing, Sam. Thank you."
Merry and Pippin appeared, attracted by the commotion. "Are you all right, Frodo?" Merry asked.
Frodo sighed. "I'm fine, really. I just had a bad dream."
"What were you dreaming?" Pippin wanted to know. Good old Pippin, more curiosity than brains. Frodo was very encouraged by the younger hobbit's predictability.
He also knew that if he did not reply, he'd get no peace until he did. "I was dreaming of my mother."
Pippin nodded. "I never met your mother. Did you, Merry?"
"No, Pip. She died before I was born," Merry replied. "But this isn't the time or the place. Let's let Frodo get some rest."
"No, Merry, it's all right. I don't mind. It's a shame you never met my mother. You would've liked her. You both would have liked her. She was the sweetest hobbit," Frodo said.
"But if your parents hadn't died, you wouldn't have been adopted by Bilbo, and then you wouldn't have the Ring," Pippin pointed out, tactful as always. Merry shot him a disgusted look. "What?" Pippin asked when he saw the expression.
"All this goes to show that some things work in very mysterious ways, Peregrin," Gandalf interrupted, coming over to check on the hobbits. Aragorn was close behind him.
"Are you all right, Frodo?" Strider asked, concerned.
Frodo sighed, and did his best not to sound snippy. "I'm fine. I just had a bad dream, is all. I'm fine now. And hungry," he added, trying to change the subject.
Gandalf smiled at Aragorn. Some things never changed, hobbits among them. Sam leapt at the chance to provide for his master. "I've got some nice stew for you, Mister Frodo, and some peppermint tea to go along with it."
"Peppermint tea?" Frodo asked, surprised. He'd thought that was just his dream.
"Why, yes. I noticed you looking a bit peaked, and peppermint tea's good for what ails you," Sam answered, handing Frodo a bowl with a spoon and a mug. Merry and Pippin, seeing no one was going to wait on them, got up to fetch themselves some food. Gandalf and Aragorn followed, reassured that Frodo was in good hands with Sam.
Frodo took the tea and inhaled deeply. He smiled up at Sam, comforted by his friend's caring. "I know. My mother used to make it for me, whenever I was sick. It reminds me of home."
"I'm glad, Mister Frodo. You need to remember home, on a journey like this," Sam observed as he fixed himself some stew and tea and settled down next to Frodo to eat.
"I do, Sam. I really do. You, and Merry, and Pippin, all help to with that," Frodo replied, taking a sip of his tea. It was sweet with honey, just the way he liked it. He didn't ask where Sam had gotten honey. He was just grateful for it.
Then Gimli, who had gone to help Legolas and Boromir gather wood, returned with them. The entire Fellowship settled down to eat, while the hobbits entertained them all with stories of the Shire. For the first time in a long time, Frodo spoke of his parents. It hurt to talk about them, but not as much as he'd expected. Merry chimed in with tales of Life in Brandy Hall, while Pippin told of the Thain and the rest of his family. Even Sam had tales of his Gaffer and their gardens. The non-hobbit members of the Fellowship, far from being bored, found these simple stories heartwarming. They reminded them that there was more to life than darkness and the threat of war. Frodo's nightmare had brought about a pleasant evening.
Somewhere else, unseen but not unfelt, Primula Baggins smiled down on her baby boy, and sipped her peppermint tea.