A/N: Okay people, I'm sorry. I really am. School has been such a pain in the butt. I've had so much homework, but I have been making an honest attempt to keep up. I hope you all haven't given up on me. I'm going to email the people of whom I think might've left. ;-) Good news (in a sense) A bunch of other stuff happened, causing me to go into a pretty bad relapse on cutting. L So hopefully I can pull some angst out on the story. God…I'm pissed. This chapter isn't too angsty, because it's been slowly "operated" on. Anyway, thanks for not giving up on me.

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Chapter 7- Still Hidden



Frodo cringed as his uncle led him down the hall. 'He'll make me remove my shirt, of course...' he began to think. 'He'll see my arms too...and then it's straight back to Brandy Hall with a label of disgrace! Oh..' he sighed sadly.



Bilbo was very worried. What was really wrong with his dear cousin? He knew of the cut on his side, of course, but he was beginning to think deeper. All these years Frodo had been very reserved; hardly had anyone seen him display emotion. He thought it best to deal with the cut first.



They finally reached the bathroom. "Alright now, Frodo, let me see that cut."



Frodo stepped back a little, trying to appear calm and casual. "No, uncle, it's okay. I'm alright.. Just a little fall. I'm quite sorry to have frightened you."



"Nonsense, Frodo. Don't be shy. I'm not going to bite you!" He smiled a bit, reaching out for Frodo. "Now come on, take off your shirt. It's nothing I haven't seen before. Good heavens, it's only your side! Come now, Frodo, don't be stubborn, you could be hurt."



"No, uncle!" said Frodo a little louder than he intended. "It's okay. I..." he stopped. He just couldn't let Bilbo see. He would drop dead before revealing himself. He wasn't worried about the cut on his side: for Bilbo had already seen it. And he wasn't worried about if Bilbo could find out how that cut managed to be there. He was worried about the cuts all up and down his upper-arm and upper chest. Bilbo had not seen those. And if he saw the various gashes and scraps all over his upper body, he knew his uncle would certainly suspect something.



"Frodo! Frodo please. Is there something you've to hide?"



"No. No sir, I haven't anything to hide. It's just a cut. I'll clean it out." he said, trying to sound calm again. "Please, please Uncle Bilbo, it's all right."



Bilbo sighed. What could he say? What else could he do? Surely his dear nephew would hide anything serious from him? Frodo trusted him, didn't he? He certainly did not want to anger his nephew. He decided to let Frodo deal with it. But he would certainly start keeping a closer eye on the lad.



"Yes yes, alright Frodo, alright. You go about your business then. But I..." he stopped and shook his head. "Be ready for supper soon."



Frodo sighed and watched sadly as his uncle walked away. But secretly he was relieved beyond words. He just couldn't have borne it if his dear Uncle Bilbo had found out. He just knew he couldn't have.



He entered the bathroom and shut the door behind him. In front of him stood a basin of cool water and a rag. He sighed, finally able to see closely the mutilation he had bestowed upon himself. He unbuttoned his tunic, letting it drift to the floor like a feather. He looked at it. The blood had dried, though his shirt was wet from the rain. He sighed. It looked as if his anger had erupted into a snake, which had eaten its way temporarily out of his heart by swimming a river of blood.



He now looked at his side. It looked, to him, very odd. It was finally beginning to scab over, though to him it seemed swollen. There was a white substance coming out of it as well. He shuddered, and reached for the rag.



He dipped it in the cool water and began to rub harshly up and down his side. He bit his lip to keep from yelling, but he knew he had to wash out any chance of infection-if he didn't have one already. He soon began to argue with himself again.



"Frodo, now you've done it. He suspects something naturally, and he's probably angry with your secrecy. Next thing you know, you'll be too much of a nuisance to deal with."



"No, no, he's not angry. How could he be? I haven't done wrong…I hope." He almost would've cried had he any emotion left in himself. All he felt was numbness, and slight shame for shunning his uncle away. What had become of him? Cuts and cuts and more cuts…that's what had become of him. He had no respect for himself anymore.

Before long, the rag he was holding had become full of dried blood. He sighed and looked about. Bilbo had always kept spare gauze around. After all, Frodo had always been reckless when he had come down to Bag End. He looked through drawers and cabinets until he found some. Pressing it gently to his wound, he looked around, finally finding some medical tape to seal the ends with. He again was at a search. He needed a clean tunic. He stuck his head out the bathroom door, and seeing as Bilbo was not in the corridor at the moment to see his bare chest, Frodo ran to his own room and shut the door. He went to his dresser and rummaged around till he found a thick, bluish tunic. He put it on, and went to dinner.

Bilbo looked up as he saw his nephew come in. He forced a smile through his mask of worriness. "Hullo Frodo, please sit down lad. I've supper ready."

Frodo forced a smile as well, though he could not help feeling bad. "Yes, thank you uncle." He sat down, as tears pricked his eyes at last
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---a/n: yea…it sucked…I know…drop me a line folks!