What Frodo Did
Part 5
After his ordeal Frodo found himself quite glad to lie in the gloom of his shuttered bedroom. He had tried to eat some pancakes for breakfast, but had turned away from the plate after two mouthfuls.
"No, please, Bilbo," he said. "I feel like I am going to be sick."
It was not the pain in his back which bothered him so much as the way the room lurched and spun whenever he opened his eyes or tried to raise his head even a little to take a half cup of minty tasting tea. Even with his eyes closed and a cloth over them it felt as though his bed was bobbing loose around the room, leaving him feeling decidedly seasick - like the first time his parents took him boating in Buckland. From time to time he was sure he was going to fall out of the bed, but if he tried to move at all, especially his legs, it just sent a flare of agony straight through him.
And just as bad was that his hot skin was so sensitive against the sheets that every thread felt to him like he was being dragged over the trunk of an extremely rough barked tree. . And just to top it off, every noise seemed magnified out of all proportion. Weary with restlessness and pain, the noise of the Gaffers clippers on the rose bushes drove Frodo to distraction.
Bilbo was reading to him softly when all of a sudden the boy just burst into tears.
"Frodo lad, what ever is it? Are you in pain?"
"It's. it's that noise. It sounds like ."
"There, my boy. I shall go and tell the Gaffer to work elsewhere for a bit."
Frodo felt miserable. He came to dread the moments when he must be moved - to sip some tea, or to take care of a call of nature. He felt so furious with himself for being so helpless and having to use a chamber pot - at his age! He wished he had never gone near the dratted tree. If only he had gone down to Bywater as he meant to. He could have sailed the toy boat Bilbo had given him as his visiting gift this summer. A real elvish boat with fine sails and beautiful carving. He could have been an elf lord travelling across the sea to the undying lands. Or the new kite shaped like an eagle.
At the thought of the kite fresh tears spilt over his face. Even now he could have been lying on a grassy slope making the kite swoop and soar above his head. Orangeblossom would have been really impressed with that. Only now he was stuck in bed, and all on account of some silly apple and some silly squirrel! And now he had cried so much his ears were filling up with tears.
Bilbo padded softly back into the room. "I have a visitor for you Frodo!" he said.
Frodo opened one eye to see Bell Gamgee in the doorway of his room with Samwise in her arms.
Frodo sniffed. "Hello."
"We'll not bother you but for a moment, Master Frodo, it was just Sam here. He's been fretting over you something awful and, if you don't mind, he just wanted to see that you were alright."
Frodo thought that anyone could see he was obviously not all right but he tried to be gracious. After all, if it had not been for Sam he would still have been under the apple tree, and he did rather like the open faced little boy.
"Hello Sam. I want to thank you for helping me yesterday."
Sam said nothing but Frodo cracked his eyes open enough to see the little lad smile at him, and somehow, that did make him feel a little better and he did his best to give a little smile in return.
Bilbo and Mrs Gamgee left the room to have a hushed conversation in the hallway and Frodo must have dozed because the next thing he was aware of was waking alone in the room in a terrible tangle of bedclothes. His hands and arms were tangled up in the sheet and he had managed to pull the quilt half off the bed. The cool cloth had been dislodged from his forehead and was lying wetly against his cheek. His pillow was all damp and uncomfortable. With the room in shadow he could not tell what time it was and he felt disorientated. Where was Bilbo? Frodo had a sudden dread that Bilbo might have gone out.
Worse. Gandalf might have come for him again. He had gone off with the dwarves and left Frodo behind. There was no one in Bag End, he could feel the empty tunnels around him. He would just have to lie in bed until the fire went out and .
No! Bilbo would not leave him. Bilbo would tell Gandalf that Frodo would just have to come with them to get the dragons treasure. Gandalf would come for him, when he came to pick up some pocket-handkerchiefs for Bilbo he would pick up Frodo too. He would have to go on a litter though, behind one of the ponies.
He plucked at his sheeting again.
But how far away was Rivendell? It would take them a very long time to get there - carrying him. Maybe the eagle could take him there first. Yes, that would be the best plan. It would be lovely to lie on the back of an eagle, its soft feathers beneath his aching back, cool wind on his face. He could meet up with Bilbo and the dwarves at Rivendell. He could meet them there, and study the maps and find the best route to Laketown, which would be easiest for the pony with him on the litter. But what about the river? They could float the litter on the barrels, but he might tip over, he would drown!
"Frodo, Frodo my boy!" It was Bilbo, and he sounded terribly distressed; no wonder, drowning his cousin on a barrel.
"I can't ride the pony!" Frodo cried. "And what if I fell off the eagle?"
"What? Whatever is wrong Frodo?"
"You will just have to stay here!" Frodo choked on tears. "I won't be put in a barrel!"
"Frodo, no one is trying to put you in a barrel. You have a fever. You are in your bed and you must try to rest." But Frodo would not be consoled.
After his ordeal Frodo found himself quite glad to lie in the gloom of his shuttered bedroom. He had tried to eat some pancakes for breakfast, but had turned away from the plate after two mouthfuls.
"No, please, Bilbo," he said. "I feel like I am going to be sick."
It was not the pain in his back which bothered him so much as the way the room lurched and spun whenever he opened his eyes or tried to raise his head even a little to take a half cup of minty tasting tea. Even with his eyes closed and a cloth over them it felt as though his bed was bobbing loose around the room, leaving him feeling decidedly seasick - like the first time his parents took him boating in Buckland. From time to time he was sure he was going to fall out of the bed, but if he tried to move at all, especially his legs, it just sent a flare of agony straight through him.
And just as bad was that his hot skin was so sensitive against the sheets that every thread felt to him like he was being dragged over the trunk of an extremely rough barked tree. . And just to top it off, every noise seemed magnified out of all proportion. Weary with restlessness and pain, the noise of the Gaffers clippers on the rose bushes drove Frodo to distraction.
Bilbo was reading to him softly when all of a sudden the boy just burst into tears.
"Frodo lad, what ever is it? Are you in pain?"
"It's. it's that noise. It sounds like ."
"There, my boy. I shall go and tell the Gaffer to work elsewhere for a bit."
Frodo felt miserable. He came to dread the moments when he must be moved - to sip some tea, or to take care of a call of nature. He felt so furious with himself for being so helpless and having to use a chamber pot - at his age! He wished he had never gone near the dratted tree. If only he had gone down to Bywater as he meant to. He could have sailed the toy boat Bilbo had given him as his visiting gift this summer. A real elvish boat with fine sails and beautiful carving. He could have been an elf lord travelling across the sea to the undying lands. Or the new kite shaped like an eagle.
At the thought of the kite fresh tears spilt over his face. Even now he could have been lying on a grassy slope making the kite swoop and soar above his head. Orangeblossom would have been really impressed with that. Only now he was stuck in bed, and all on account of some silly apple and some silly squirrel! And now he had cried so much his ears were filling up with tears.
Bilbo padded softly back into the room. "I have a visitor for you Frodo!" he said.
Frodo opened one eye to see Bell Gamgee in the doorway of his room with Samwise in her arms.
Frodo sniffed. "Hello."
"We'll not bother you but for a moment, Master Frodo, it was just Sam here. He's been fretting over you something awful and, if you don't mind, he just wanted to see that you were alright."
Frodo thought that anyone could see he was obviously not all right but he tried to be gracious. After all, if it had not been for Sam he would still have been under the apple tree, and he did rather like the open faced little boy.
"Hello Sam. I want to thank you for helping me yesterday."
Sam said nothing but Frodo cracked his eyes open enough to see the little lad smile at him, and somehow, that did make him feel a little better and he did his best to give a little smile in return.
Bilbo and Mrs Gamgee left the room to have a hushed conversation in the hallway and Frodo must have dozed because the next thing he was aware of was waking alone in the room in a terrible tangle of bedclothes. His hands and arms were tangled up in the sheet and he had managed to pull the quilt half off the bed. The cool cloth had been dislodged from his forehead and was lying wetly against his cheek. His pillow was all damp and uncomfortable. With the room in shadow he could not tell what time it was and he felt disorientated. Where was Bilbo? Frodo had a sudden dread that Bilbo might have gone out.
Worse. Gandalf might have come for him again. He had gone off with the dwarves and left Frodo behind. There was no one in Bag End, he could feel the empty tunnels around him. He would just have to lie in bed until the fire went out and .
No! Bilbo would not leave him. Bilbo would tell Gandalf that Frodo would just have to come with them to get the dragons treasure. Gandalf would come for him, when he came to pick up some pocket-handkerchiefs for Bilbo he would pick up Frodo too. He would have to go on a litter though, behind one of the ponies.
He plucked at his sheeting again.
But how far away was Rivendell? It would take them a very long time to get there - carrying him. Maybe the eagle could take him there first. Yes, that would be the best plan. It would be lovely to lie on the back of an eagle, its soft feathers beneath his aching back, cool wind on his face. He could meet up with Bilbo and the dwarves at Rivendell. He could meet them there, and study the maps and find the best route to Laketown, which would be easiest for the pony with him on the litter. But what about the river? They could float the litter on the barrels, but he might tip over, he would drown!
"Frodo, Frodo my boy!" It was Bilbo, and he sounded terribly distressed; no wonder, drowning his cousin on a barrel.
"I can't ride the pony!" Frodo cried. "And what if I fell off the eagle?"
"What? Whatever is wrong Frodo?"
"You will just have to stay here!" Frodo choked on tears. "I won't be put in a barrel!"
"Frodo, no one is trying to put you in a barrel. You have a fever. You are in your bed and you must try to rest." But Frodo would not be consoled.