Frodo woke slowly to the sound of gentle humming. For a moment, he thought he felt gentle fingers lingering in his hair, but as he stirred the feeling vanished, melting with the last vestiges of sleep. He blinked a few times, groggy from the medicine, and raised his head to see a figure sitting beside the bed. He stared, trying to bring the figure into focus. It was a hobbit-lass, long curls hanging down past her shoulders, soft green dress glowing in the firelight…
"Mum?" he said tentatively.
He heard the humming catch a little, and a soft, trembling voice reply, "No, Frodo-dear. It's Bell…Bell Gamgee."
Frodo snapped back to reality. Flushing with embarrassment, he looked down, unable to meet Bell's gaze. "I, um…sorry, I think I was…dreaming…" tears burned at his eyes as he remembered the dream: someone caring for him, stroking his hair gently, kissing his forehead…whispering to him that he was not alone…
'Fool,' he berated himself, wiping at his tears hastily. 'Your parents are gone, you know that; you are alone, you'll always be alone, so get used to it.'
He became aware of a warm weight pressed against his chest and glanced down, seeing Sam's curly head tucked snugly against him. The younger lad's breathing rose and fell steadily, and most of his color had returned. A small smile played across Frodo's lips as he gazed at the child, and after a moment he dared to glance up at Bell again.
"Has he woken at all yet?" he said quietly.
Bell's eyes looked sad and she shook her head. "Not yet, I'm afraid. But he's doing much better now. Damon expects he'll awake in another few hours or so, and then we'll see…how he's doing." She choked a little on the last, and suddenly Frodo remembered the healer's earlier concerns about Sam going so long without air. Would Sam be…well, would he still be *Sam* when he woke up? Or would he be…different? Frodo choked a little himself; he hoped, for the young hobbits' sake, that he was all right, but it really wouldn't matter much either way for Frodo. Sam didn't like him, after all. He bowed his head against that painful knowledge, but forced it back. It was selfish of him to be worried about that, anyway; Sam's health was far more important.
The older hobbit settled back into the blankets and wrapped an arm around to stroke Sam's hair gently, heart tightening as Sam unconsciously snuggled closer, knowing the lad would never have done that if he'd known who was holding him.
"He'll be all right," Frodo whispered, almost to himself, though Bell overheard it in the stillness of the room. Then, in a whisper that even Bell could barely hear: "He has to be."
"I expect he'll be fine," Bell said in a voice more confident than she felt, pretending she hadn't overheard the last of Frodo's comment. "He's a strong lad, after all. He always has been." She gave Frodo a sidelong look, though the lad didn't notice: his gaze was still fixed on Sam's slack face.
"He was very lucky, you know," she said casually.
Frodo's head snapped toward her. "Lucky?" he said incredulously. "How is…*this* lucky?"
Bell tilted her head at him and said reasonably, "Well, after all, you were there to pull him back out of the river."
Frodo's face twisted into an odd expression; it was a moment before Bell realized it was self-disgust. "He wouldn't have been there at all if it weren't for me," the lad said in a harsh whisper, lowering his eyes.
"Maybe that's true," Bell said amiably, "but even so, it was very lucky for all of us you know how to swim. He'd have certainly drowned if you hadn't."
Frodo looked up at her quickly, his face carefully guarded as he tried to gauge the meaning of her words. "I suppose so…" he said slowly.
Bell nodded. "Quite lucky indeed," she said, returning her gaze to her son. "We'd have lost him, if not for you. You saved his life."
Frodo paled. "Oh, no…no, I didn't, Mistress Gamgee, I"—
"Bell," she interjected.
"Bell, then," Frodo said, blushing. "I didn't. I pulled him out of the river, but…if we hadn't been found…" he bit his lip, tears welling from his soulful eyes. "I failed," he said miserably. "I failed him. I gave up, in the end; I collapsed, and he…we…" he choked.
"That's ridiculous," Bell said matter-of-factly. Frodo looked up at her, surprised. "Frodo-lad, you were suffering from the cold as much as our Sam was, and what's more, you had to use most of your strength to drag both him and yourself out of the river. That you managed to not only do that, but carry the lad to the bridge…well, you're a hero, Frodo." She smiled at him, waiting for his reaction.
Frodo had blushed with an awkward sort of delight during Bell's speech, but now his cheeks were flushed with a different sort of emotion: shame. "I'm not," he whispered. "I'm a fool."
"Enough of that," Bell said sternly. "I won't be hearing it, not about the lad who saved my son's life."
"Bell, how can you even speak to me?" Frodo cried suddenly, sitting up and staring her in the face, tears running down his flushed cheeks. "How can you bear to? Sam…Sam could have died because of *me*! And he still might…might be…" he broke off, sobbing.
Bell's expression softened with pity, and she moved forward to wrap the young lad in her embrace. Frodo stiffened, then relented, melting against her and burying his face against her shoulder as she rocked him.
"There, now," she cooed. "It's all right, Frodo. It's all right."
Frodo sobbed for several more minutes, allowing himself the rare comfort of being folded into a mother's embrace—something he'd not enjoyed since his own mother had passed on all those years ago. His aunts, though motherly enough with their own broods, were mostly too busy for him, and he'd always tried not to get in their way, anyway; he'd tried to make himself as inconspicuous as possible in Brandy Hall, so they wouldn't regret taking him in. But oh, how he'd missed this…this comfort, this care…
…this *love*.
When his sobs had subsided into hiccups and finally ceased all together, he pulled away, wiping furiously at his face. Bell smiled gently down at him, reaching out and offering him a handkerchief produced magically from the folds of her gown. Frodo took it awkwardly, blowing his nose and dabbing at his tears before handing it back. Embarrassed at his display, he mumbled, "I'm sorry."
"There's nothing to be sorry for, Frodo-dear," came the soft reply. When Frodo dared to meet her gaze again, he was surprised to see the affection that gleamed in her eyes. "You best be getting some more rest, then," she said after a moment, leaning forward to ease Frodo back into the blankets. Sam curled back around him instantly, and Frodo released a shaky sigh before wrapping his arms around the young lad once more. Bell leaned forward, and much to Frodo's surprise, planted a gentle kiss at his temple. He looked up at her, a question in his eyes; he had always before thought that, like Sam, she wasn't really that fond of him. But she merely smiled and shook her head. "Later," she said quietly, stroking the hair from Frodo's forehead. "We'll all talk later, once Sam's awoken and everyone's feeling a sight better. Until then, you just rest, all right?"
Frodo nodded slowly, and offered a hesitant smile. "Th…thank you, Bell," he whispered.
Her smile broadened. "You're quite welcome, Master Frodo," she replied. "Now shut your eyes."
He complied, though fresh tears stung the backs of his eyelids when Bell's gentle voice began to hum a lullaby. This time, though, they were tears of gratitude. He sighed and snuggled deeper into the warmth of the bed, holding Sam tightly to his chest, and under Bell's voice and her resumed caresses in his hair, he was asleep within minutes.
* * *