A/n: I feel I owe those of you still reading an apology. I've had writer's block (not just on this, but on everything) for quite some time now, and while I still know where this story is headed, making the words come out has been far more difficult than it should be. I would like to thank Sangwa, Laura, Angela and all you others who've been so supportive of me with this. You guys are the only reason I didn't drop this months ago, and it's for you guys I'm going to keep working at this abominable block and finish this. I've devoted too much to it to leave it now. I can't make any promises about how quickly I'll be able to do so, but I do promise this WILL be completed.
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When Frodo awoke this time, it was to the sound of moaning.
He jerked a little, startled into wakefulness, and looked around groggily. He was alone in the room, and judging by the moonlight coming in through the window, it was still the dead of night. He felt a small stirring against him and looked down at the bundle he held in his arms. His eyes widened as Sam moaned again, his brow creasing and a small brown hand pressed against his temple. Frodo watched, breathless with hope, and ventured, "Sam?" in a tremulous whisper.
"Mmmmnnn," Sam replied, pressing harder at his temple.
"Sam," Frodo tried again, his voice a little steadier. "Sam, can you hear me? Open your eyes, Sam."
Sam knew nothing but confusion and a relentless ache in his head. He winced, massaging his temple, wishing he could make it stop, wondering where he was and why his head hurt in the first place.
Suddenly, he remembered the water. Freezing cold, cold as ice, closing in on him, suffocating him…he thrashed, on the verge of panic, thinking himself still under the horrid swollen river.
Frodo tightened his embrace, holding Sam still to keep him from harming himself, and whispered soft words of comfort in the child's ear. "Shh, Sam, it's all right now," he murmured, rocking the child slightly. "You're all right, you'll be all right…relax, Sam, you're safe…"
Frodo's voice finally got through to the younger hobbit, and he managed to open his eyes a crack. "Mr. Frodo?" he whispered, incredulous.
Frodo felt tears of relief well up in his eyes. "Yes, Sam," he whispered. "It's me. Oh, Sam…" he pulled the child close to him, stroking his hair gently and continuing to rock him. Sam, still confused but grateful for the warmth and comfort he found in Frodo's embrace, wrapped his small arms around Frodo's shoulders.
"Where am I?" he asked, his voice croaky and his throat sore from the amount of river water he'd swallowed.
"Damon Proudfoot's," Frodo replied. "The healer."
Sam tried to wrap his brain around that bit of information, but found it throbbing too painfully. "Head hurts," he muttered, closing his eyes and burrowing against Frodo's neck as though he might make the ceaseless pounding stop.
"Mine did too, when I first woke up," Frodo said. "It goes away."
"Mmm," Sam replied, eyelids drooping as he slipped back into sleep. Frodo held the child more snugly against him, feeling tears of gratitude well up in his eyes. Sam had woken up!
Alerted by the voices, Lilly—who had been putting clean linens in a closet just down the hall—hurried into the room. Her eyes fell on the bed, where the two lads were still curled much as she'd last seen them. She frowned, wondering if she hadn't imagined the noises, but suddenly Frodo looked up, meeting her questioning gaze.
"Sam woke up," he said, a huge, relieved grin on his tear-streaked face. "He woke up, and he spoke to me."
Lilly's eyes widened. "You sure, lad?" she said, her deep accent growing thicker in her excitement. Frodo nodded, and Lilly clapped her hands together. "I'll fetch Damon!" she breathed, and dashed from the room.
Damon was just coming out of the kitchen, mug of tea clutched between his calloused hands, and Lilly nearly bowled into him in her haste.
"Whoa, then, lass!" he cried, holding the mug a safe distance from his shirt lest the hot liquid slosh onto him. "What's all this?"
She grinned at him. "Frodo says little Sam's woken up, sir!"
He raised his eyebrows and followed Lilly as she hurried back down the corridor. They paused outside the door, hearing a soft voice from within, singing gently.
"Don't worry, little hobbit
You're safe in my arms
Don't cry, little hobbit
I'll keep you from harms.
Damon tilted his head a little, pushing open the door so he could see the interior of the room. Frodo was still curled around Sam, propped on one elbow while his other hand gently stroked over Sam's hair. As Damon waited, holding his breath, he heard Frodo continue his soft lullaby:
Don't be sad, little hobbit
When the sun doesn't shine
Just keep me in your heart
And you'll be here in mine."
"Frodo?" Damon said quietly when it seemed certain the lad wasn't going to sing anymore. Frodo jerked, and looked over his shoulder at the healer with an embarrassed expression on his face.
"My mum used to sing that to me," he whispered, lowering his eyes. "It always made me feel better."
Damon smiled, moving into the room. Lilly trailed close behind him. "I'm sure it's a comfort to Sam as well," he said gently. He looked over at Sam. The child looked much the same as the healer had last seen him, but now at least there was some color in his cheeks. He reached out, frowning a little, and touched the child's forehead, but there was only the heat of health; no additional fever radiated from the skin. His smile broadened, and he looked at Frodo, who'd been watching his face anxiously.
"Will he be all right?" Frodo whispered, almost afraid to hear the answer but needing to know.
Damon placed a comforting hand on the lad's shoulder. "Aye, he should be," he replied. "There's no fever, which is a good sign, and the fact that he woke up comforts me greatly."
"He said his head hurt," Frodo said.
Damon nodded. "Another good sign; he was coherent, and spoke. I was worried…but it does seem our lad is bound for a complete recovery." He turned to Lilly. "Go and fetch some more of that tea, and I'll wake him long enough to swallow a bit. It'll help his headache, and he should sleep more soundly."
Lilly nodded, and with a swirl of skirts left the room.
"Mr. Proudfoot?" came a hesitant voice from behind him.
Damon turned, a faintly chastising smile on his lips. "I said to call me Damon, didn't I?"
Frodo blushed. "Damon, then," he said softly. "Should we wake Sam's parents?"
Damon nodded. "I'll see to them," he said. "They can be present when we wake Sam for his tea."
Frodo nodded, returning his full attention to the young hobbit sleeping in his arms.
Damon turned and headed out to the parlor, where the Gamgees were resting fitfully in front of the hearth.
"Hamfast," Damon said, reaching out to shake the hobbit's shoulder gently. "Hamfast, wake up."
Ham stirred, blinking blearily, then snapping to full attention when he saw the healer's face looming over him. "What is it?" he asked, sitting up (and in the process waking Bell, who sat up and shook her head to rid it of sleep). "Is anything…?"
Damon read the fear on the hobbit's face immediately, and shook his head quickly, a comforting smile on his face. "Nay, lad," he said. "Your son woke up."
Bell and Hamfast gasped simultaneously. "Is he…all right?" Bell asked, sounding breathless. "I mean is he…does he…?"
"I wasn't there when he awoke, but according to Frodo he spoke coherently. Complained of a headache, in fact."
Bell and Hamfast looked at each other for a moment, then sprang to their feet in unison. The trio hurried down the hallway and into the small, cozy room. Lilly was setting a tray of tea on the bedside table, and Frodo had raised himself to a sitting position with Sam propped against his side.
"Wake him, lad," Damon said, moving forward and taking the tea Lilly had poured. "Wake him, and support him, and I'll give him this."
Frodo nodded, then turned to the child in his arms. "Sam?" he said softly. "Sam, wake up."
Bell forgot to breathe as she watched, her eyes wide and her mouth half open. There was a pause, then Sam moaned. She released the breath she'd been holding, tears welling in her eyes. She was certain she had never heard a sweeter sound.
"That's it, Sam," Frodo said, and there were tears in his own eyes despite his radiant smile. "Wake up now, I've got something for your head."
"Frodo?" Sam murmured sleepily.
Bell choked on what was half a laugh, half a sob, and leaned into her husband's side. His arm snaked around her and he held her tightly, as they all watched the child stir and gape at them blearily.
"Yes, Sam, it's me," Frodo said, taking the tea out of Damon's hand. Damon raised his eyebrows, but sat back to watch; in his experience, getting children to drink the rather bitter-tasting concoction took more persuasion than someone still as sick as Frodo could offer, but he resolved to wait and see. Thus far, this pair had been full of surprises.
"Drink this, Sam," Frodo said, raising the cup to Sam's lips. "It will help your head."
Sam took a hesitant sip, then turned away, a foul expression on his face. "Tastes bad."
Frodo nodded. "I know," he said. "I had to drink some too."
Sam glanced up at him. "Does it work?"
Frodo nodded again, smiling. "I wouldn't want you to drink something so foul if it couldn't do you some good," he said.
Sam looked at him for a moment, then leaned forward so Frodo could tip the tea into his mouth again. While the room watched, Sam downed the cup, then leaned back. "Tired," he murmured, already mostly asleep again.
Frodo nodded. "Sleep, then," he whispered, kissing Sam's unruly blond curls. Sam glanced up at him, confusion etched onto his face for an instant, but it was overcome by the exhaustion and in moments, he'd drifted back into slumber.
Bell covered her face with her hands and leaned against her husband, tears streaming down her cheeks. Ham turned to embrace her fully, resting his head on her curls and closing his eyes against his own tears of gratitude.
"He'll be all right, then," he said, looking toward Damon.
Damon caught the half-question in his voice, and nodded, his eyes shining. "Aye, I believe he will," he whispered.
Frodo closed his eyes, tears leaking down his own cheeks. "Thank you," he whispered, though none could tell whom he was talking to. He settled back down, still hugging Sam tightly, and drifted into sleep himself.
"We should go tell Master Bilbo," Hamfast said after a moment. "He'll be glad to know Sam'll be all right."
Bell nodded, and Damon said, "That's true," but none of them made any move to leave the room. Instead, they stood gazing at the young hobbits for several long moments, hearts filled with joy, and—at last—with hope.
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