Learning to Stand Again
Rating: PG
Summary: While recovering from the quest in Minas Tirith, Frodo suffers a fall that destroys more than his physical health, but his hope and emotional being as well. A familiar face from Ithilien will help him heal and learn to live again. h/c, no slash, no profanity, post-quest.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters nor am I making any money off of them. They belong to Tolkien, who is a greater writer than I'll ever be.
Warnings: This chapter and future chapters may contain references to wee hobbit sickness, injury, treatment of said sickness and injury, as well as references to wee hobbit bodily functions. I will be sure to up the rating if I include anything seriously graphic, but, for the most part, it shouldn't be of an extremely graphic nature.
A/N: Thanks goes out to Febobe for giving me a great idea of how to make Frodo suffer. Love ya, dear!
Chapter 3:
"How is he doing?"
"He was doing well when I left him earlier, but when I returned he was tossing and turning fitfully; his rest was disturbed by nightmares. Now he's burning up with fever, but I'm not exactly sure why. It could be attributed to his injury. Unfortunately, the best way to bring his temperature down would require bathing him, and I don't want to put that kind of strain on his back," Aragorn said as he checked Frodo's rising temperature once again.
Faramir adjusted the covers around Frodo's shivering form, "What else can you do for him, then?"
"I'll prepare some Ginger tea for him. We'll have to wake him, I suppose."
"Can we let him rest just a little longer?" Faramir looked pityingly at the small form curled beneath the blankets, "He looks quite exhausted."
"No, we'd better not wait. He can rest afterwards. I'll give him something to help him sleep. I'll be back in a moment," Aragorn said resolutely as he turned and left the room, his robe billowing out like a banner behind him.
Faramir turned back to Frodo. Seating himself on the edge of the bed, he gently began trying to coax the Hobbit out of sleep.
"Frodo?" he whispered softly. "It's time to wake up, Frodo."
Reaching down, he ran a finger along one pointed ear, stroking dark curls with his thumb.
"Mmmmm..." Frodo opened his eyes wearily and blinked up at Faramir. His face was dominated by those enormous blue eyes. Faramir was struck by how young and childlike Frodo seemed lying in the bed, the confusion of sleep still upon him.
"Aragorn is going to bring some tea for you to drink, then you can go back to sleep."
"No, I don't think I could drink anything. I feel very ill, Faramir," Frodo whispered, squeezing his eyes shut. He felt Faramir's cool hand brush his forehead lightly. Shivering, he jerked his head away. His back was aching terribly. There was a sharp, throbbing pain about midway down. He could feel his stomach churning. Any moment now he was going to throw up, right in front of Faramir.
"Oh, I think I'm going to be sick Faramir; bring me a bowl!" Frodo moaned weakly.
He heard Faramir cross the room, but he wasn't quick enough. Unable to sit up or roll over, Frodo vomited over his front. Choking, he coughed and spat out pieces of undigested food, and the coughing only served to hurt his back. He didn't think it was possible to feel so miserable. Faramir was by his side again, apologizing profusely and wiping his face with a wet cloth.
"What's happened?" Aragorn's voice penetrated the room sharply.
"He's been ill, my liege. I wasn't able to brink him a bowl or a chamber pot in time, I'm afraid," Faramir pulled the soiled covers off of Frodo's body. "It looks as though we'll have to find some way to bathe him now."
Aragorn considered the situation for a moment, before setting down the tray of herbs and heated water he was carrying, "We'll give him a gentle sponge bath in the bed, then we'll change the bedclothes, but first let me give him some of this ginger tea."
Frodo opened his mouth to protest, but Aragorn silenced him by saying, "Don't worry, Frodo. I'm going to give you some ginger tea. It will help bring your fever down, and it will soothe your nausea."
Slipping a hand behind Frodo's head, Aragorn gently tipped the contents of the cup down Frodo's throat. Its warmth eased the chill of Frodo's body, and he couldn't be sure, but he thought he could taste something else mixed in with the ginger. It didn't matter, though, as he soon found himself completely relaxed.
"Now let's get you out of this nightshirt. We're going to give you a quick bath, and then you'll be able to rest again," Aragorn said as he pulled out each arm in turn and gently slipped the shirt over Frodo's head. "Faramir, please go ask one of the maids to fetch up a bucket of water. Have her heat it a bit; tepid water will be best." Faramir nodded his ascent and bowed himself out of the room.
"Now let me take another look at your back before I bathe you."
Aragorn gently rolled Frodo onto his stomach and cut away the bandages, "How does it feel, Frodo?"
"It hurts terribly."
Aragorn could see why. Around midway down his spinal column, Frodo had terrible bruising and swelling. There could be no doubt that one of the vertebrae was fractured. What disturbed Aragorn was the large amount of pus that seemed to be building up around the point where the fracture must be. Pus indicated an infection, which would make treatment and recovery more trying.
"It definitely looks like a fracture to me, Frodo, and it looks infected, too. I'm going to have to find some herbs to treat this with after your bath."
Frodo only sighed, closing his eyes. After a moment, Aragorn could tell that he was lightly dozing. He began going over a list of herbs in his head as he waited for Faramir to return with the bathwater.
TBC
Rating: PG
Summary: While recovering from the quest in Minas Tirith, Frodo suffers a fall that destroys more than his physical health, but his hope and emotional being as well. A familiar face from Ithilien will help him heal and learn to live again. h/c, no slash, no profanity, post-quest.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters nor am I making any money off of them. They belong to Tolkien, who is a greater writer than I'll ever be.
Warnings: This chapter and future chapters may contain references to wee hobbit sickness, injury, treatment of said sickness and injury, as well as references to wee hobbit bodily functions. I will be sure to up the rating if I include anything seriously graphic, but, for the most part, it shouldn't be of an extremely graphic nature.
A/N: Thanks goes out to Febobe for giving me a great idea of how to make Frodo suffer. Love ya, dear!
Chapter 3:
"How is he doing?"
"He was doing well when I left him earlier, but when I returned he was tossing and turning fitfully; his rest was disturbed by nightmares. Now he's burning up with fever, but I'm not exactly sure why. It could be attributed to his injury. Unfortunately, the best way to bring his temperature down would require bathing him, and I don't want to put that kind of strain on his back," Aragorn said as he checked Frodo's rising temperature once again.
Faramir adjusted the covers around Frodo's shivering form, "What else can you do for him, then?"
"I'll prepare some Ginger tea for him. We'll have to wake him, I suppose."
"Can we let him rest just a little longer?" Faramir looked pityingly at the small form curled beneath the blankets, "He looks quite exhausted."
"No, we'd better not wait. He can rest afterwards. I'll give him something to help him sleep. I'll be back in a moment," Aragorn said resolutely as he turned and left the room, his robe billowing out like a banner behind him.
Faramir turned back to Frodo. Seating himself on the edge of the bed, he gently began trying to coax the Hobbit out of sleep.
"Frodo?" he whispered softly. "It's time to wake up, Frodo."
Reaching down, he ran a finger along one pointed ear, stroking dark curls with his thumb.
"Mmmmm..." Frodo opened his eyes wearily and blinked up at Faramir. His face was dominated by those enormous blue eyes. Faramir was struck by how young and childlike Frodo seemed lying in the bed, the confusion of sleep still upon him.
"Aragorn is going to bring some tea for you to drink, then you can go back to sleep."
"No, I don't think I could drink anything. I feel very ill, Faramir," Frodo whispered, squeezing his eyes shut. He felt Faramir's cool hand brush his forehead lightly. Shivering, he jerked his head away. His back was aching terribly. There was a sharp, throbbing pain about midway down. He could feel his stomach churning. Any moment now he was going to throw up, right in front of Faramir.
"Oh, I think I'm going to be sick Faramir; bring me a bowl!" Frodo moaned weakly.
He heard Faramir cross the room, but he wasn't quick enough. Unable to sit up or roll over, Frodo vomited over his front. Choking, he coughed and spat out pieces of undigested food, and the coughing only served to hurt his back. He didn't think it was possible to feel so miserable. Faramir was by his side again, apologizing profusely and wiping his face with a wet cloth.
"What's happened?" Aragorn's voice penetrated the room sharply.
"He's been ill, my liege. I wasn't able to brink him a bowl or a chamber pot in time, I'm afraid," Faramir pulled the soiled covers off of Frodo's body. "It looks as though we'll have to find some way to bathe him now."
Aragorn considered the situation for a moment, before setting down the tray of herbs and heated water he was carrying, "We'll give him a gentle sponge bath in the bed, then we'll change the bedclothes, but first let me give him some of this ginger tea."
Frodo opened his mouth to protest, but Aragorn silenced him by saying, "Don't worry, Frodo. I'm going to give you some ginger tea. It will help bring your fever down, and it will soothe your nausea."
Slipping a hand behind Frodo's head, Aragorn gently tipped the contents of the cup down Frodo's throat. Its warmth eased the chill of Frodo's body, and he couldn't be sure, but he thought he could taste something else mixed in with the ginger. It didn't matter, though, as he soon found himself completely relaxed.
"Now let's get you out of this nightshirt. We're going to give you a quick bath, and then you'll be able to rest again," Aragorn said as he pulled out each arm in turn and gently slipped the shirt over Frodo's head. "Faramir, please go ask one of the maids to fetch up a bucket of water. Have her heat it a bit; tepid water will be best." Faramir nodded his ascent and bowed himself out of the room.
"Now let me take another look at your back before I bathe you."
Aragorn gently rolled Frodo onto his stomach and cut away the bandages, "How does it feel, Frodo?"
"It hurts terribly."
Aragorn could see why. Around midway down his spinal column, Frodo had terrible bruising and swelling. There could be no doubt that one of the vertebrae was fractured. What disturbed Aragorn was the large amount of pus that seemed to be building up around the point where the fracture must be. Pus indicated an infection, which would make treatment and recovery more trying.
"It definitely looks like a fracture to me, Frodo, and it looks infected, too. I'm going to have to find some herbs to treat this with after your bath."
Frodo only sighed, closing his eyes. After a moment, Aragorn could tell that he was lightly dozing. He began going over a list of herbs in his head as he waited for Faramir to return with the bathwater.
TBC