Twenty minutes later, Bilbo, Hamfast, Bell, and Rowan were all loaded into Ham's small cart. Halfred and Hamson stayed behind to look after the younger Gamgee children; they wouldn't have been able to crowd into the cart anyway. It was a two-seat cart, used for transporting produce or gardening supplies or groceries, not large parties. Rowan and Bilbo sat in the back where the supplies usually went. Hamfast and Bell had both protested to this at first, but Bilbo had insisted, saying he hadn't really a notion how to drive a cart and he wouldn't see Bell sitting in the dirt. Hamfast had been sorely tempted to point out that the quality had no business sitting in the dirt either, but he'd decided against it. Bilbo was wearing a determined look that allowed for no digressions, and besides, Hamfast was worried about Sam and Mr. Frodo. There'd be time enough to discuss propriety later.
"How did you say they were found, lad?" Bilbo asked for the third time. Rowan, somewhat warmed by the too-large cloak that had been wrapped around him, answered patiently.
"By the bridge, sir. Sopping wet. Lilly says they must've decided to take a swim in the river. Either that or they'd been out in that rain for hours. Sir."
"How did they look?" Bell inquired.
"Pale," Rowan said, turning to face her. "All limp and pale and sopping wet. They must've been freezing, but they weren't shivering. The littler one—Sam, s'that his name?—his lips were kind of blue. They looked drowned."
Bell closed her eyes and quickly turned back around. Rowan looked alarmed, and glanced at Bilbo. "Did I say something wrong?" he whispered, wide-eyed.
Bilbo smiled a little. "Nay, lad, just the truth. It'll serve you well as a healer, someday; though you might want to work a little on how bluntly you lay it on."
Rowan looked at a loss, but nodded and mumbled "Yes, sir." Bilbo let it drop.
The trip wasn't a long one, though to the worried hobbits it felt much longer, and in twenty minutes they'd arrived at the healer's.
"Don't know how they made it out this far," Bilbo murmured, a frown on his face. "They hadn't been gone long enough to walk this distance."
Hamfast shook his head. "Maybe that Lilly wasn't far off when she said they'd taken a swim," he said. "It would explain how they'd gotten that far, if they were in that river."
Bell gasped at the thought. "But how would they have gotten back out?" she said, grabbing at Hamfast's sleeve and clambering down from the cart. "Sam can't swim!"
"Frodo can," Bilbo said. "He learned in Buckland, after his parents passed on. Never said much about it, only that he 'wanted to know how.'"
"Well, if that's the way of it I'll bless him for it, and never say a word against it for the rest of my days," Bell swore fervently.
Rowan jumped a bit clumsily from the cart. "You can go on in," he said, pointing at the door. "I have to tend to Sassafras here, she'll catch chill if I leave her in the rain."
Hamfast looked down at the shivering lad, and shook his head. "Lad, you've been out in this rain for long enough. You go on inside. I'll tend to the pony."
"Ham?" Bell whispered, touching his arm, but Hamfast shook his head.
"Lass, Sam isn't going to get any worse in the time it takes me to lead a pony to the stables," he said. "And besides. From the sounds of it, our lad was saved by the kindness of folk we ain't never met. The least we can do is try and repay that kindness."
Bell looked at her husband for a long moment before leaning forward and placing a soft kiss against his wet lips. "You always do the right thing," she murmured, stroking at his cheek a little.
Hamfast shifted, a little embarrassed, and said, "Lass, the master…" But Bilbo was looking the other way, pointedly engaged in a conversation with Rowan. Hamfast smiled a little and shook his head, then leaned down and kissed his wife briefly. "You go tend to Sam and young Master Frodo," he said. "I'll be along shortly."
She nodded, and the three of them turned and walked into the brightly-lit smial.
Hamfast turned his attention to the pony, who was huffing slightly and sweating despite the chill air. "Well, lass," he said as he began to undo the harness on the cart, "you've certainly served your master well tonight. And you must be exhausted, as well! But we do appreciate it, you getting us to our boy as you've done."
The pony snorted, nuzzling Ham's shoulder as he came round to undo the other side. He chuckled and patted her neck, undoing the last clasp and taking her by the bridle. "Off we go, then. I reckon you'll lead me to your stables eagerly enough."
The pony snorted again, and began walking down the small hill the smial was built into. Round a corner, and sure enough, the barn lay snuggled between the road and a small grove of trees. The pony tossed her head and started walking faster, and Hamfast allowed her, eager himself to get back and see to his son. Once inside the small but cozy enclosure, he saw to it she had plenty of straw and a few nice warm blankets, then allowed her a small sip of water before placing the bucket out of reach. "Nay, lass," he said when she tried to follow him back out. "We'll send someone to give you more of a drink when you've cooled down a bit." He patted the pony's muzzle again, then latched the stall door and the heavy barn door and dashed back up the hill.
When he entered the smial, he was alarmed at first to find the front room empty, but after a moment he realized he could hear voices from the back of the smial. Following them, he soon found himself standing in the doorway to a largish room with several cots crowded into it. Two of the cots were occupied, though Ham's view of the occupants was blocked by his wife, his master, and the healer. They all looked up as they saw him enter the room, and Hamfast was horrified to see Bell had tears in her eyes.
"Lass," he said, hurrying forward, "What…?" He stopped dead at the sight of his son.
Rowan was right. Sam *did* look dead. His golden curls hung limply at the sides of his too-pale cheeks, and his eyes were closed. Hamfast could barely hear the child's breathing; it was shallow and slow, and the spaces between his breaths were too long. His face had a strangely fragile look to it, as though the lad's skin were made of the most delicate tissue paper and would tear if touched. Hamfast dared this last, bringing his fingers to brush against the lad's temple; he was horrified to find it so frozen and damp.
"Mr. Gamgee," a voice from his left said, and Hamfast snapped back to reality a little.
"Yes?"
Damon stepped forward. "Sir," he said, extending his hand and shaking briefly. "I want you to know we're doing all we can for your son."
"How is he?" Hamfast asked, turning back to gaze at the child again.
Damon sighed. "He's not gotten worse since they brought him in. Unfortunately, he's not gotten any better, either. We've gotten them dried off, and into warm clothes, and we're heating the room as best we can to try and get some warmth back into them."
Hamfast turned and peered behind Damon at the other cot, where Frodo rested. Bilbo sat at his side, and had been watching the healer as he explained the situation to Hamfast; now, he returned his attention to his cousin.
Frodo looked a good deal better than Sam. He was still asleep, but his face was colored, his cheeks rosy. Even from where he stood Hamfast could hear his deep, steady breathing.
"He'll be all right, then?" Hamfast asked, gazing down at the lad.
Damon nodded. "Oh, aye, I expect so," he said. "He's mostly just asleep, now. He's bigger than the child; he's regained his body heat quicker. Almost too quickly; I was afraid for a time he was coming down with a fever. But we're watching him, and he seems to be doing fine." Damon smiled. "I'd say he'll be good as new in a few days."
"And what of Sam?" Bell asked, her voice timid and quiet. Hamfast couldn't know it, but apart from a small cry of dismay when she'd first seen her son, it was the first she had spoken since entering the smial.
Damon turned grave eyes on her. "I can't rightly say, I'm afraid," he admitted. "If we can get him warm, he's got a decent chance. It's not only hypothermia I'm worried about with this one. From the way he's breathing, he might have a bit of water in his lungs. If I had to guess, I would have to concur with Lilly on this one: these boys were in the river."
"We were."
Four heads snapped towards the sound of the soft voice, four pairs of eyes widening in disbelief.
"Frodo!" Bilbo cried, taking his nephew's hand in his.
Frodo winced and opened his eyes a crack. "Uncle?" he said. "Am I dreaming?"
"No, lad, you're not," Bilbo whispered, tears filling his eyes as he smiled down on his adopted charge. "I'm here, lad. I'm here."
"Frodo," Damon said, smiling. "Nice to meet you." He extended a hand, which Frodo shook after extracting his own from his Uncle's grip.
"Likewise," Frodo said, looking at a loss. "And you are…?"
Damon and Bilbo laughed, and Hamfast and Bell managed small smiles. "Damon Proudfoot, my boy!" Damon said, bowing. "And you'll be in my charge for the next few days at least, so you'd best be dispensing with the formalities!"
Frodo frowned. "Charge…?"
"Mr. Proudfoot's a healer, Frodo," Bilbo explained.
Frodo closed his eyes for a moment. "Head hurts," he said by way of explanation.
"I don't doubt it," Damon said sympathetically. "I'll have Lilly make a concoction for you. It should help you sleep as well. But in the meantime, lad, I need you to try and tell me what you remember."
Frodo nodded slightly. "I was…reading," he said. "Fell asleep. When I woke up it was dark, and there was lightning, and wind, and thunder. I was scared."
"And with good reason, too!" Bilbo said, a frown appearing on his face. "Frodo lad, you know not to wander that far from home if you can't find your way back!"
"Mr. Bilbo, sir, not meaning any disrespect, but could you let the lad finish his tale before you berate him? It might help us understand why Sam is in this condition."
Bilbo looked abashed, and nodded, but Frodo perked up, concern swimming in his eyes. "Sam? Where is Sam? What condition?"
"Now, lad, lie back, and just relax," Damon soothed, putting one weathered hand on Frodo's chest to ease him back onto his cot. "We're taking care of him, now tell us what happened."
Frodo fixed the healer with a cold, blue gaze. "Tell me where he is," he said. "Tell me what's wrong with him."
"Why, lad, he's right here," Hamfast said, stepping aside so Frodo could see the cot Sam rested upon.
Frodo stilled as he gazed at the child, his eyes gone distant, his breathing all but halted. Then, suddenly, he began to tremble.
"Lad!" Bilbo cried. "What…?"
Then the tears came. "Oh, Sam!" Frodo cried, and buried his face in his hand. "Sam, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry! It's all my fault, I remember now, it's all my fault…!"
"Lad," Damon said, his voice commanding and steady. "What's all your fault? What happened to Sam?"
"The river," Frodo choked between whimpers. "The Brandywine. He came to find me, and he fell in." He looked up at Hamfast and Bell, a plea in his eyes, and his words tumbled out in a hurried jumble. "Oh, I tried to help him, I really did! I went after him, and pulled him onto the shore…I got him to breathe again, but he wouldn't wake up, so I carried him, but I didn't know the way and it was still raining and I was lost and…and…" he broke down into silent sobs.
"Lad," Bell said, moving forward. "You're going to make your headache worse, if you keep up with that nonsense. Now stop it this instant."
Frodo looked up at her, surprised enough to stop his tears. The others in the room stared at her in surprise as well, but Bell had raised enough children to know how to make one stop crying.
"Listen to me," she said, gently but firmly, kneeling down beside the cot to look Frodo in the eye. "Sam needs your help, Frodo. We need to know exactly what happened so we know how to help him. Can you do that for Sam?"
Wide-eyed, Frodo nodded. Bell said, "Good. Now tell me, slowly this time. What happened?"
"He…he fell in," Frodo said. "His foot slipped on the bank, and he fell. I went after him."
"Lad," Damon said, stepping forward, "how long was he in the river?"
"I don't know…" Frodo said, thinking. "I froze at first, when he fell in, but I went after him after a few seconds…he was in the middle of the river, I could see him…"
"Did he have his head above the water?"
"No…only his arms…then he did get his head above the water for a moment, and cried out, then he vanished. That's when I dived after him."
"Lad," Damon said. "This is very important. I need to know about how long he was in that river, and about how long he went without air."
Frodo frowned, biting his lip in concentration. "About…seven minutes in the river," he said. "And about five…underwater." He looked up anxiously, trying to gauge the healer's reaction.
Damon sighed and stood. "Thank you, Frodo," he said. "I'll have Lilly bring you that concoction for your head now." He turned to the Gamgees, and said in a low voice, "That river is freezing on a good day, but in the middle of this storm, and with a child that small? Hypothermia is a major concern. It would explain why we can't get him warmed. And I'm concerned…even if he wakes up, and experiences no complications from inhaling that muddy water…his brain was without oxygen for a long time. There is a possibility of…lasting effects."
"What kind of effects?" Hamfast asked.
Damon sighed. "Mind-altering effects," he said gently.
"Brain damage, you mean," Bell said. Damon met her gaze somberly, and nodded slowly.
"It's happened before," he said.
Bell closed her eyes and bowed her head, covering her mouth with her hand. Hamfast closed his eyes briefly as well, then opened them again and regarded Damon carefully.
"What do we do?"
Damon sighed. "The best we can do for him now is get him warmed up," he said. "I'll have Rowan build up some more fires, and we'll move him to one of the smaller rooms. I'll get some more blankets from the closet, and we'll keep him covered as best we can. In the meantime—"
"I want to stay with him."
They turned in surprise at the sound of Frodo's voice. He was staring past the three of them at Sam, but when he felt their gazes he looked up. "I want to help him," he said quietly. "If it weren't for me he wouldn't be here, like this. Let me stay with him."
"Lad," Bilbo said gently, "What could you hope to do for him? And you need your rest too, after all."
"I can keep him warm," Frodo said. "Let me rest with him, in the same bed. Body heat is the fastest way to warm up, right?" He looked at the healer.
Damon considered the lad, nodding slowly. "Aye, that's true," he said. "Could be the lad has a good idea."
He turned to the Gamgees. "I don't suppose either of you has an objection?"
Bell shook her head. "I think it's a good idea."
"Besides," Frodo cut in, looking back at Sam. "I won't be able to sleep unless I know how he is. If I stay with him, I'll know all the time. And I'll be able to wake up if something goes wrong. I'll be able to tell you if he needs help!"
Damon smiled. "Not under the influence of what I'm going to have you drink, you won't," he said. "You'll be out like a light and nothing will wake you until the drug has run its course. But never mind. It's a good idea anyway. We'll set you two up in the same room, and you can help get the lad warmed up."
Frodo gave him a grateful look. Lilly made up one of the rooms, and Rowan built up a large fire in the hearth. Then Damon carried Sam and Hamfast carried Frodo—much to the lad's chagrin, but he'd tried to stand and had fallen almost immediately—into the room after it had warmed up a bit. Bell pulled back the large down comforters and Hamfast and Damon carefully deposited their loads into the large feather mattress. After drinking the bitter-tasting tea Lilly brought in for him, Frodo turned and pulled Sam close against him, cuddling the child against his chest and wrapping his arms around him to try and share as much warmth as he could. Sam came easily, tucking his head under Frodo's chin and sighing a little before falling back into total unconsciousness. Frodo held him close as the blankets were tucked in around them, then relaxed, feeling the tea work its magic on him. Soon he, too, was sound asleep.
"Well," Damon said, gazing down at the two lads.
"What do we do now?" Hamfast asked, coming up beside him and looking at his son and his master's heir.
Damon looked up at him. "Now?" he said. "Now, we wait."
He turned and walked from the room. Hamfast stayed a moment longer watching the pair, then leaned down and reached out a hand to stroke Sam's curls. "Wait," he murmured, then turned with a sigh and walked out of the room.
* * *