An extra bonus chapter for you here. My editor got carried away with his
editing and wrote a whole new chapter for us!
So, this chapter is not by me but is a one off by Mark - who is masquerading as Dr Milo. I think he did a great job - he writes more suffering for Frodo than even I did!
What Frodo Did 7/?
Bilbo paced back and forth, checking on Frodo from time to time. It was late, very late - about half past two in the morning. He had never felt so helpless in his life. His favourite relative in the world was so terribly ill. He listened to Frodo whimper as he slept, trying to toss and turn, moaning in desperate frustration and pain as his paralysed legs pinned him down. Time seemed to have slowed down while Frodo suffered and Bilbo didn't know what to do. All he could think of was just to keep changing the cloth draped over Frodo's face, try to keep him cool as the fever burned through him. He periodically cleaned Frodo up, mopping away the trails of sweat that seemed to stream out of the poor lad, his skin glistening in the lamplight. Brushing the lad's sodden hair gently out of his face as Frodo's head tossed from one side to the other, the whimpering increasing.
Frodo looked around him in panic. He was falling and he could do nothing to stop it, spinning slowly as he fell. He had fallen from the edge of a crevasse, but he couldn't remember climbing up. He had been chasing after Uncle Bilbo, full of despair that his uncle had deserted him to go adventuring again with Gandalf and Thorin and all his friends. Frodo had been left behind, un-thought of, forgotten. Just a burden to the world, one to be left behind and discarded. All he knew now was that he was falling to his death, a fall that went on and on, causing his limbs to distort and twist. He could feel his fingers getting thicker and thicker so he couldn't do anything with them. At the same time his arms and legs were getting thinner and thinner and he was terrified they would snap at any moment. He tried to cry out, but he couldn't remember how. He heard a deep rumbling sound that quickly became a roar, and he tried to discover its origin, looking up quickly, and then around - just in time to see the most gigantic, evil looking dragon diving straight for him. He stared into it's malicious eyes as it opened its huge mouth full of razor sharp teeth. He tried to scream - but no sound came out. He froze, petrified, noticing his many-fold reflection in the polished red scales as it sliced through the air at him. He tried to scream again, but couldn't. Suddenly he realised that even if the dragon didn't get him he was falling straight towards a set of spears that had been planted in the ground below and were pointing straight up at him. He fell faster, terror coursing through him and his heart pounding fit to wrench out of his chest. Closer and closer they came as he fell. He was just about to reach them, be skewered by them, when.
He was falling and he could do nothing to stop it, spinning slowly as he fell. He had fallen from the edge of a crevasse.
Bilbo jerked awake, having fallen asleep in a chair pulled up to Frodo's bed. He'd succumbed to his exhaustion and now pulled himself guiltily to his feet. He had been woken by a sudden noise and he hurried over to Frodo to check on his condition. His heart dropped and his mind whirled as he saw the look of horror on Frodo's face. His mouth was stretched open as if in a scream. Bilbo laid his hand gently across Frodo's forehead and nearly jerked it away it was so hot. Frodo was burning up! Bilbo tried to pinpoint the source of the noise, but couldn't remember what it had been like until he saw the shredded sheet laid over the boy's chest with Frodo's hands clawed through it. "Frodo!" Bilbo shook Frodo's shoulder gently. "Frodo!" There was no response. Bilbo shook a little harder, called a little louder, "Frodo! FRODO!" Again, there was no response. The doctor must be called! NOW! No delays. But someone must stay with Frodo, that was clear.
Bilbo ran round to Gaffer Gamgee's burrow and pounded on the door. "Come on, come on, please answer!" Bilbo pleaded with the painted door, feeling that an eternity had passed since he knocked. At last, it opened. Bell! Just the person.
"Mr Bilbo! What's wrong? What's happened?"
"Bell, Frodo's getting worse. I have to fetch the doctor. Will you please watch him for me while I go?"
"Of course, Mr Bilbo. Is there.," but she was talking to thin air.
Bilbo was gone. As soon as Bell agreed, he turned and ran for the doctor, forcing his legs to move faster than they had done in years, taking deep gasping breaths and knowing that every moment he took to reach Dr Bramble could be a moment too many. He ran, ran as if all the dark powers of Middle Earth were after him, knowing that if he were too late then he would wish they had been.
--ooOoo--
Dr Milo Bramble woke with a start and wondered what his wife could possibly be doing at this time of night to make so much noise. Then he realised that she was sitting up beside him, just getting out of bed to answer the door. "No, my dear. I'll get it. It sounds pretty urgent.," His words trailed off as swung himself out of the bed and made his way quickly to the front door.
"Bilbo! What's wr- ," but he didn't have a chance to ask.
"Doctor, it's Frodo, he's so hot I can hardly touch him, and he looks absolutely terrified, I can't keep him cool and I can't wake him up -" Bilbo broke off in gasps, trying to regain his breath and Dr Bramble took the opportunity to speak.
"Bilbo, sit your self down over there. You look as if you'll fall over at any moment, and it's clear we don't have time for that. You rest, catch your breath. I'll slip on some clothes and get my bag."
It was clear to Dr Bramble that Bilbo was deeply frightened, and knowing Frodo's condition he knew it was very likely that Bilbo had every reason to be scared. He slipped his trousers on, grabbed an overcoat and headed for the front door, glad that he kept a stocked bag of oils, essences, herbs and bandages by the door for just such emergencies.
"Bilbo, you stay here until you've caught your breath. Honeysuckle," he called to his wife, "I'm going up to Bag End to check on Master Frodo. Could you get Mr Bilbo something to drink before he follows? Some sweet tea would probably be best. And give him one of your wonderful little early strawberry tarts if he'll have one." And with that, he was out of the house and trotting towards Bag End.
--ooOoo--
He arrived at Bag End to find that Bell had taken command of the situation and had her husband and her eldest sons filling buckets with water as cold as possible and bringing them to her. She was dipping bandages into the water and laying them thickly over Frodo's forehead and torso, leaving just his nose and mouth clear. Dr Bramble heard the moaning and whimpering as he hurried through the door. He took in at a glance what Bell was doing and smiled at her as he reached the bed.
"Well done, Bell. You've done exactly right. Let me just get at the boy to see how things are." He removed one or two of the cloths and rested his hand against Frodo's forehead, then just over his heart, which he could tell was racing as if it were trying to burst. Frodo wasn't getting any cooler - clearly the dripping wet cold cloths were just staying the progress of Frodo's illness rather than reversing it. As he considered the best course of action, he could feel Frodo getting hotter and hotter. He needed to do something right away.
He turned to Gaffer Gamgee and his sons, who were standing round watching, holding their breaths, as if by will alone they could assist in Frodo's recovery. "Mr Hamfast, I need you and your boys to run round to the cold- store. I need ice. Lots of it. Fortunate, we are, that it's early summer and there's still so much left. I need you to fill the bath with it, and fast!"
Gaffer, Hamson and Halfast trotted out, and Dr Bramble turned back to Frodo. "Bell, let's get some more of those cloths on him. We can't let him get any hotter! Then we need to get him into the bathroom. I'll need help with that, but I suspect Mr Bilbo should be back any moment now."
A minute passed, then another, each seeming like an hour, until Bilbo could be heard gasping in the corridor. Right behind him came the Gaffer, carrying a sack full of ice. "Mr Bilbo, help me get Master Frodo into the bath. It's the only way we can get his temperature down far enough and quickly enough. Mr Hamfast, pour the ice in and we'll place Master Frodo onto it." As Gaffer reached the bath and started pouring in the ice, Dr Bramble and Bilbo lifted Frodo out of the bed as carefully as they could, doing their best to support him and reduce any motion that he might sense as they carried him into the bathroom.
Frodo was in a furnace. He had been captured by orcs and they were roasting him alive. Periodically they stuck their spears in, piercing his flesh and cackling, asking each other if he was done yet. He must nearly be done. He despaired, knowing he was all alone in the world, unloved, worthless, burning, left to be supper for orcs. He was being swung from side to side in the furnace to make sure he was done on all sides. They kept sticking him with their spears - why couldn't they just leave him alone until he was finished. In his pain and misery, tears streamed unnoticed down his cheeks.
"Frodo! Frodo! Come back to me." Bilbo and Dr Bramble lowered Frodo into the bath, the misery in Bilbo's face mirroring that of his young cousin as he saw the tears on Frodo's face. Hamson was back with another sack of ice. After making sure that Frodo was supported by the slope of the tub, Dr Bramble turned to Hamson. "Pour it in on top of him, quickly! And Bilbo, fetch one of those buckets of cold water. We'll need to pour in a little of that!"
Suddenly Frodo was plunged into the depths of an icy pool He hadn't realised it was possible to feel this cold. He was sinking, further and further down, sucked into a freezing whirlpool. He tried to struggle against the flow, to swim out, but he wasn't strong enough and he couldn't make his limbs obey him. They were going numb, completely numb. He knew he was dying; he couldn't fight against it any more. This was the end. He felt the cold moving up his body, higher and higher, colder and colder, if that were possible. His terror peaked and his mind went blank.
"That's it. You can put the bucket down now, Mr Bilbo. And that's enough ice. Thank you Mr Hamfast, thank you Master Hamson, thank you Master Halfred, for your efforts. Now all we can do is wait." The doctor glanced at Frodo in the bath again, and ushered everyone out into the hall leaving just himself in the bathroom as he tried to reassure them that with the cooling of his body Frodo now had a better chance.
Unnoticed, Sam, who had been roused a little earlier by all the activity and had slipped into the bathroom with his parents during the confusion, emerged from behind the tub where he had been hiding, listening, and knelt up against it murmuring, "Please be all right, Mr Frodo, please get better." He took one of Frodo's hands, and absently stroked it, watching Frodo's face intently as he spoke, repeating it over and over, willing him to recover with all his being. And deep in his heart, Frodo knew he was no longer alone.
So, this chapter is not by me but is a one off by Mark - who is masquerading as Dr Milo. I think he did a great job - he writes more suffering for Frodo than even I did!
What Frodo Did 7/?
Bilbo paced back and forth, checking on Frodo from time to time. It was late, very late - about half past two in the morning. He had never felt so helpless in his life. His favourite relative in the world was so terribly ill. He listened to Frodo whimper as he slept, trying to toss and turn, moaning in desperate frustration and pain as his paralysed legs pinned him down. Time seemed to have slowed down while Frodo suffered and Bilbo didn't know what to do. All he could think of was just to keep changing the cloth draped over Frodo's face, try to keep him cool as the fever burned through him. He periodically cleaned Frodo up, mopping away the trails of sweat that seemed to stream out of the poor lad, his skin glistening in the lamplight. Brushing the lad's sodden hair gently out of his face as Frodo's head tossed from one side to the other, the whimpering increasing.
Frodo looked around him in panic. He was falling and he could do nothing to stop it, spinning slowly as he fell. He had fallen from the edge of a crevasse, but he couldn't remember climbing up. He had been chasing after Uncle Bilbo, full of despair that his uncle had deserted him to go adventuring again with Gandalf and Thorin and all his friends. Frodo had been left behind, un-thought of, forgotten. Just a burden to the world, one to be left behind and discarded. All he knew now was that he was falling to his death, a fall that went on and on, causing his limbs to distort and twist. He could feel his fingers getting thicker and thicker so he couldn't do anything with them. At the same time his arms and legs were getting thinner and thinner and he was terrified they would snap at any moment. He tried to cry out, but he couldn't remember how. He heard a deep rumbling sound that quickly became a roar, and he tried to discover its origin, looking up quickly, and then around - just in time to see the most gigantic, evil looking dragon diving straight for him. He stared into it's malicious eyes as it opened its huge mouth full of razor sharp teeth. He tried to scream - but no sound came out. He froze, petrified, noticing his many-fold reflection in the polished red scales as it sliced through the air at him. He tried to scream again, but couldn't. Suddenly he realised that even if the dragon didn't get him he was falling straight towards a set of spears that had been planted in the ground below and were pointing straight up at him. He fell faster, terror coursing through him and his heart pounding fit to wrench out of his chest. Closer and closer they came as he fell. He was just about to reach them, be skewered by them, when.
He was falling and he could do nothing to stop it, spinning slowly as he fell. He had fallen from the edge of a crevasse.
Bilbo jerked awake, having fallen asleep in a chair pulled up to Frodo's bed. He'd succumbed to his exhaustion and now pulled himself guiltily to his feet. He had been woken by a sudden noise and he hurried over to Frodo to check on his condition. His heart dropped and his mind whirled as he saw the look of horror on Frodo's face. His mouth was stretched open as if in a scream. Bilbo laid his hand gently across Frodo's forehead and nearly jerked it away it was so hot. Frodo was burning up! Bilbo tried to pinpoint the source of the noise, but couldn't remember what it had been like until he saw the shredded sheet laid over the boy's chest with Frodo's hands clawed through it. "Frodo!" Bilbo shook Frodo's shoulder gently. "Frodo!" There was no response. Bilbo shook a little harder, called a little louder, "Frodo! FRODO!" Again, there was no response. The doctor must be called! NOW! No delays. But someone must stay with Frodo, that was clear.
Bilbo ran round to Gaffer Gamgee's burrow and pounded on the door. "Come on, come on, please answer!" Bilbo pleaded with the painted door, feeling that an eternity had passed since he knocked. At last, it opened. Bell! Just the person.
"Mr Bilbo! What's wrong? What's happened?"
"Bell, Frodo's getting worse. I have to fetch the doctor. Will you please watch him for me while I go?"
"Of course, Mr Bilbo. Is there.," but she was talking to thin air.
Bilbo was gone. As soon as Bell agreed, he turned and ran for the doctor, forcing his legs to move faster than they had done in years, taking deep gasping breaths and knowing that every moment he took to reach Dr Bramble could be a moment too many. He ran, ran as if all the dark powers of Middle Earth were after him, knowing that if he were too late then he would wish they had been.
--ooOoo--
Dr Milo Bramble woke with a start and wondered what his wife could possibly be doing at this time of night to make so much noise. Then he realised that she was sitting up beside him, just getting out of bed to answer the door. "No, my dear. I'll get it. It sounds pretty urgent.," His words trailed off as swung himself out of the bed and made his way quickly to the front door.
"Bilbo! What's wr- ," but he didn't have a chance to ask.
"Doctor, it's Frodo, he's so hot I can hardly touch him, and he looks absolutely terrified, I can't keep him cool and I can't wake him up -" Bilbo broke off in gasps, trying to regain his breath and Dr Bramble took the opportunity to speak.
"Bilbo, sit your self down over there. You look as if you'll fall over at any moment, and it's clear we don't have time for that. You rest, catch your breath. I'll slip on some clothes and get my bag."
It was clear to Dr Bramble that Bilbo was deeply frightened, and knowing Frodo's condition he knew it was very likely that Bilbo had every reason to be scared. He slipped his trousers on, grabbed an overcoat and headed for the front door, glad that he kept a stocked bag of oils, essences, herbs and bandages by the door for just such emergencies.
"Bilbo, you stay here until you've caught your breath. Honeysuckle," he called to his wife, "I'm going up to Bag End to check on Master Frodo. Could you get Mr Bilbo something to drink before he follows? Some sweet tea would probably be best. And give him one of your wonderful little early strawberry tarts if he'll have one." And with that, he was out of the house and trotting towards Bag End.
--ooOoo--
He arrived at Bag End to find that Bell had taken command of the situation and had her husband and her eldest sons filling buckets with water as cold as possible and bringing them to her. She was dipping bandages into the water and laying them thickly over Frodo's forehead and torso, leaving just his nose and mouth clear. Dr Bramble heard the moaning and whimpering as he hurried through the door. He took in at a glance what Bell was doing and smiled at her as he reached the bed.
"Well done, Bell. You've done exactly right. Let me just get at the boy to see how things are." He removed one or two of the cloths and rested his hand against Frodo's forehead, then just over his heart, which he could tell was racing as if it were trying to burst. Frodo wasn't getting any cooler - clearly the dripping wet cold cloths were just staying the progress of Frodo's illness rather than reversing it. As he considered the best course of action, he could feel Frodo getting hotter and hotter. He needed to do something right away.
He turned to Gaffer Gamgee and his sons, who were standing round watching, holding their breaths, as if by will alone they could assist in Frodo's recovery. "Mr Hamfast, I need you and your boys to run round to the cold- store. I need ice. Lots of it. Fortunate, we are, that it's early summer and there's still so much left. I need you to fill the bath with it, and fast!"
Gaffer, Hamson and Halfast trotted out, and Dr Bramble turned back to Frodo. "Bell, let's get some more of those cloths on him. We can't let him get any hotter! Then we need to get him into the bathroom. I'll need help with that, but I suspect Mr Bilbo should be back any moment now."
A minute passed, then another, each seeming like an hour, until Bilbo could be heard gasping in the corridor. Right behind him came the Gaffer, carrying a sack full of ice. "Mr Bilbo, help me get Master Frodo into the bath. It's the only way we can get his temperature down far enough and quickly enough. Mr Hamfast, pour the ice in and we'll place Master Frodo onto it." As Gaffer reached the bath and started pouring in the ice, Dr Bramble and Bilbo lifted Frodo out of the bed as carefully as they could, doing their best to support him and reduce any motion that he might sense as they carried him into the bathroom.
Frodo was in a furnace. He had been captured by orcs and they were roasting him alive. Periodically they stuck their spears in, piercing his flesh and cackling, asking each other if he was done yet. He must nearly be done. He despaired, knowing he was all alone in the world, unloved, worthless, burning, left to be supper for orcs. He was being swung from side to side in the furnace to make sure he was done on all sides. They kept sticking him with their spears - why couldn't they just leave him alone until he was finished. In his pain and misery, tears streamed unnoticed down his cheeks.
"Frodo! Frodo! Come back to me." Bilbo and Dr Bramble lowered Frodo into the bath, the misery in Bilbo's face mirroring that of his young cousin as he saw the tears on Frodo's face. Hamson was back with another sack of ice. After making sure that Frodo was supported by the slope of the tub, Dr Bramble turned to Hamson. "Pour it in on top of him, quickly! And Bilbo, fetch one of those buckets of cold water. We'll need to pour in a little of that!"
Suddenly Frodo was plunged into the depths of an icy pool He hadn't realised it was possible to feel this cold. He was sinking, further and further down, sucked into a freezing whirlpool. He tried to struggle against the flow, to swim out, but he wasn't strong enough and he couldn't make his limbs obey him. They were going numb, completely numb. He knew he was dying; he couldn't fight against it any more. This was the end. He felt the cold moving up his body, higher and higher, colder and colder, if that were possible. His terror peaked and his mind went blank.
"That's it. You can put the bucket down now, Mr Bilbo. And that's enough ice. Thank you Mr Hamfast, thank you Master Hamson, thank you Master Halfred, for your efforts. Now all we can do is wait." The doctor glanced at Frodo in the bath again, and ushered everyone out into the hall leaving just himself in the bathroom as he tried to reassure them that with the cooling of his body Frodo now had a better chance.
Unnoticed, Sam, who had been roused a little earlier by all the activity and had slipped into the bathroom with his parents during the confusion, emerged from behind the tub where he had been hiding, listening, and knelt up against it murmuring, "Please be all right, Mr Frodo, please get better." He took one of Frodo's hands, and absently stroked it, watching Frodo's face intently as he spoke, repeating it over and over, willing him to recover with all his being. And deep in his heart, Frodo knew he was no longer alone.