What Frodo Did
6/?
Angie
Dr Milo Bramble sat in his comfortable house, situated within an easy five minute stroll of the Green Dragon, and its fine selection of real ales. He was taking his ease before his evening meal with a pipe by the hearth. This time of year a fire was hardly needed but he liked to watch the flames and poke at them occasionally with his stick. Mrs Bramble was singing as she worked round the kitchen, occasionally pausing to shoo a child out from under her feet.
With the meal nearly ready she came to sit with her husband for a moment.
Dr Bramble was well respected in Hobbiton, he was a hard worker, never afraid of snow or rain should duty call at any hour of the night. Hobbits were generally a healthy race- the occasional bout of stomach trouble due to overeating, but Milo had done well for himself and his pretty wife, and their brood of pretty children. He took her hand now and smiled at her, glad to have a half hours rest. Now that the worst of the winter illnesses were out of the way, and with few deaths in the very elderly, he could afford to relax a little. But not too much. Summer was the time of year when most of the children seemed to start going down with the usual selection of childhood illnesses.
A loud knocking on the door startled them both for a moment and Mrs Bramble got up to answer it. She stuck her head back round the parlour door a few moments later. "Milo dear. It's Samwise Gamgee. Mr Baggins would like you up the hill. Master Frodo has taken badly." She had his bag already in her hand and sent him off with a kiss before going to take tea off the hearth.
--ooOoo-
The peaceful environs of Bag End were in turmoil. A few neighbours had turned out to see what all the noise was about. Gaffer Gamgee was keeping them back at the gate but Dr Bramble had no such escape. As he went in through the big round door he heard the sound of furious yelling.
"I will not stay in bed! I want to go out! I DO NOT want a book!!!" This last was punctuated by the flurry of a book being launched out into the hallway outside Frodo's bedroom. Dr Bramble hurried forwards.
"No Frodo lad!"
Dr Bramble ignored the distressed Bilbo and went at once to assess the situation on the bed. Frodo, hair all but glued to his forehead above a red face, was using all his might to ignore the pain in his back and legs as he tried to get to out of bed. He was sweating profusely and the Doctor did not have to go far to see he was running a high fever.
"I want to go out!" Frodo absolutely screamed the words, and tried to heave himself from the bed with the obvious results. He collapsed back, half off the bed and half in Dr Bramble's arms, sobbing furiously. The sudden agonising intensity of the pain had driven all fight out of the small boy and he was reduced to hitting his fists into his pillow.
"I want to go out!" he whimpered between sobs which were breaking Bilbo's heart. "Why won't my legs work?"
The doctor eased Frodo back onto his pillows. "Steady lad. Lets have a look at you and see what we can do. Fighting your Uncle won't get you out of bed any quicker. Mr Baggins, I think we could all do with a cup of peppermint tea."
"I don't want any!" insisted Frodo petulantly. "And tell that cave troll to go away." He waved an arm urgently to the corner of the room where there was nothing more ominous than his bookcase.
With great efficiency Dr Bramble stripped back the tangle bedding. "Now, Frodo, I want you to try to move your legs for me." Frodo did as he was told but the results were hardly perceptible. "Now, lets roll you over and have a look."
Frodo bit his lip to keep from crying out as he was rolled very gently onto his side. He made no sound but tears constantly streamed down his face. No sound that is until the doctor pressed on the swollen flesh at the small of his back. Frodo flinched and cried out, then turned his head slightly to the doctor. "Oh, no, please don't do that. Leave me alone! It hurts so!"
Bilbo came rushing back into the room and took Frodo's sweating and tear stained face between his palms. "Its alright my boy. It will be over in a moment."
Frodo was gently placed back on to his back and covered up again. "You will need to change his nightshirt and sponge him down," instructed Dr Burrows. "The tissue around his spine is badly inflamed. It is causing the fever. Also, you will need to massage the muscles - not directly over the injury, but from about a handspan below the injury and down behind his hips to the top of his thighs. They are knotting as they constantly try to take the pressure off his back and are causing him even more pain. But it's the fever we need to concentrate on first."
If it had been possible for Bilbo to have gone any whiter he would have done so now. "What shall I do? He was raving earlier. He thought I was trying to make him go on a journey."
"We need to keep him calm," Dr Bramble poured a few drops of something into a cup of water. "Come now, Master Frodo, drink this for me." He lifted the damp head from the stained pillow.
Frodo responded to the authority in the doctor's voice and took the drink. He hoped it would make him sleep. He wanted the journey to be over and to wake up in Laketown.
Big blue eyes, red rimmed with crying and pain looked up at the doctor. "Uncle Bilbo packed me in a barrel," he said. "I know he did because I can't sit up or move my legs, but I think it is leaking." Tears of fright started to trace their way down Frodo's cheeks until, after a few moment, the doctor's sedative started to take effect and Frodo's eyes closed.
Dr Milo Bramble sat in his comfortable house, situated within an easy five minute stroll of the Green Dragon, and its fine selection of real ales. He was taking his ease before his evening meal with a pipe by the hearth. This time of year a fire was hardly needed but he liked to watch the flames and poke at them occasionally with his stick. Mrs Bramble was singing as she worked round the kitchen, occasionally pausing to shoo a child out from under her feet.
With the meal nearly ready she came to sit with her husband for a moment.
Dr Bramble was well respected in Hobbiton, he was a hard worker, never afraid of snow or rain should duty call at any hour of the night. Hobbits were generally a healthy race- the occasional bout of stomach trouble due to overeating, but Milo had done well for himself and his pretty wife, and their brood of pretty children. He took her hand now and smiled at her, glad to have a half hours rest. Now that the worst of the winter illnesses were out of the way, and with few deaths in the very elderly, he could afford to relax a little. But not too much. Summer was the time of year when most of the children seemed to start going down with the usual selection of childhood illnesses.
A loud knocking on the door startled them both for a moment and Mrs Bramble got up to answer it. She stuck her head back round the parlour door a few moments later. "Milo dear. It's Samwise Gamgee. Mr Baggins would like you up the hill. Master Frodo has taken badly." She had his bag already in her hand and sent him off with a kiss before going to take tea off the hearth.
--ooOoo-
The peaceful environs of Bag End were in turmoil. A few neighbours had turned out to see what all the noise was about. Gaffer Gamgee was keeping them back at the gate but Dr Bramble had no such escape. As he went in through the big round door he heard the sound of furious yelling.
"I will not stay in bed! I want to go out! I DO NOT want a book!!!" This last was punctuated by the flurry of a book being launched out into the hallway outside Frodo's bedroom. Dr Bramble hurried forwards.
"No Frodo lad!"
Dr Bramble ignored the distressed Bilbo and went at once to assess the situation on the bed. Frodo, hair all but glued to his forehead above a red face, was using all his might to ignore the pain in his back and legs as he tried to get to out of bed. He was sweating profusely and the Doctor did not have to go far to see he was running a high fever.
"I want to go out!" Frodo absolutely screamed the words, and tried to heave himself from the bed with the obvious results. He collapsed back, half off the bed and half in Dr Bramble's arms, sobbing furiously. The sudden agonising intensity of the pain had driven all fight out of the small boy and he was reduced to hitting his fists into his pillow.
"I want to go out!" he whimpered between sobs which were breaking Bilbo's heart. "Why won't my legs work?"
The doctor eased Frodo back onto his pillows. "Steady lad. Lets have a look at you and see what we can do. Fighting your Uncle won't get you out of bed any quicker. Mr Baggins, I think we could all do with a cup of peppermint tea."
"I don't want any!" insisted Frodo petulantly. "And tell that cave troll to go away." He waved an arm urgently to the corner of the room where there was nothing more ominous than his bookcase.
With great efficiency Dr Bramble stripped back the tangle bedding. "Now, Frodo, I want you to try to move your legs for me." Frodo did as he was told but the results were hardly perceptible. "Now, lets roll you over and have a look."
Frodo bit his lip to keep from crying out as he was rolled very gently onto his side. He made no sound but tears constantly streamed down his face. No sound that is until the doctor pressed on the swollen flesh at the small of his back. Frodo flinched and cried out, then turned his head slightly to the doctor. "Oh, no, please don't do that. Leave me alone! It hurts so!"
Bilbo came rushing back into the room and took Frodo's sweating and tear stained face between his palms. "Its alright my boy. It will be over in a moment."
Frodo was gently placed back on to his back and covered up again. "You will need to change his nightshirt and sponge him down," instructed Dr Burrows. "The tissue around his spine is badly inflamed. It is causing the fever. Also, you will need to massage the muscles - not directly over the injury, but from about a handspan below the injury and down behind his hips to the top of his thighs. They are knotting as they constantly try to take the pressure off his back and are causing him even more pain. But it's the fever we need to concentrate on first."
If it had been possible for Bilbo to have gone any whiter he would have done so now. "What shall I do? He was raving earlier. He thought I was trying to make him go on a journey."
"We need to keep him calm," Dr Bramble poured a few drops of something into a cup of water. "Come now, Master Frodo, drink this for me." He lifted the damp head from the stained pillow.
Frodo responded to the authority in the doctor's voice and took the drink. He hoped it would make him sleep. He wanted the journey to be over and to wake up in Laketown.
Big blue eyes, red rimmed with crying and pain looked up at the doctor. "Uncle Bilbo packed me in a barrel," he said. "I know he did because I can't sit up or move my legs, but I think it is leaking." Tears of fright started to trace their way down Frodo's cheeks until, after a few moment, the doctor's sedative started to take effect and Frodo's eyes closed.