A/N—While I have an amateur interest in herbalism, I am no apothecary. I
have researched the herbs mentioned a little, but I have no true concept of
how they interact with each other, or if they'd grow anywhere near each
other in Middle Earth's climate. Much creative license has been taken with
this, for the sake of texture in the story. If anyone DOES know the proper
usage of the herbs mentioned, or more appropriate substitutes, feel free to
email me or leave the info in a review. Above all DO NOT try any of Clover
or Citrine Proudfoot's homeopathic remedies by yourself, unless you are a
trained herbalist!!!
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Aunt Citrine was standing in the garden of Bag End when the young hobbits approached. She looked upset, and was muttering to herself. Frodo's blood ran cold as he immediately assumed the worst. Clover saw his look and forgot her anger. She took his hand quickly and gave it a small, reassuring squeeze before running to her mother. Frodo followed more slowly, his heart heavy.
"Mother, we're back!" Clover called. Her mother had bent down to inspect a plant and had not seen them. Citrine Proudfoot straightened at the sound of her daughter's voice. "I have some herbs, too. Bennet and loosestrife and cowslip, as well as a little wild horseradish. I thought they might help some," Clover continued.
"Good girl! I was just looking for horseradish. Honestly, what hobbit doesn't grow horseradish in the garden?" Citrine said.
Frodo found his voice, and spoke. "We had some, but we used the last of it a few days ago. I'm sorry."
"No need to be sorry, my boy," Aunt Citrine replied. "I have horseradish aplenty at the apothecary. I just did not wish to leave Bilbo unattended for so long."
"Unattended?" Clover asked with visible disapproval. "Where, then, is Doctor Bolger?"
Her mother pursed her lips in what Clover privately called the Doctor Bolger Look. "He was called away to assist with a birthing," was all Citrine would admit to. Clover suspected there was more to it than that, but knew better than to push her mother for information.
"Will you take Frodo in to see Bilbo now?" she asked instead. "He is anxious to see him."
"Not just yet, my dears," Citrine replied. Seeing the hurt and confused expression on Frodo's face, she continued "I want you to know what to expect before you see him, young Frodo. It would not do for you to panic."
"Panic?" Frodo squeaked. Visions of Bilbo's lifeless body ran through his head, and he swooned. Clover caught him, sparing a glare for her mother for scaring him so.
Aunt Citrine realized then just what meaning Frodo had taken from her casual comment. "Oh, no, my dear boy, I don't mean it like that! Bilbo is very much alive, but he is not awake. Nor is he likely to wake soon, until I can figure out just what felled him in the first place."
Frodo, now sitting on the ground with Clover hovering protectively over him, glanced up at his aunt. "Clover mentioned consumption….." he said tentatively.
Citrine turned her own glare on her daughter. For a moment, mother and daughter looked very much alike. "I DID tell him you disagreed, Mother," Clover muttered defensively.
Aunt Citrine nodded, and turned her attention back to Frodo. "That I do. Doctor Bolger thinks any cough is indicative of consumption, but I know its other symptoms. Bilbo's condition does not match them. Unfortunately, I do not know what his symptoms DO match. It is unlike any other illness I have seen."
Frodo nodded miserably. That it was not consumption was good, but if Aunt Citrine did not know what ailed Bilbo, no one would. And that was very, very bad.
Aunt Citrine led Frodo and Clover into Bag End. As soon as the hobbits entered, they could hear a horrible racking cough coming from Bilbo's bedroom. Frodo immediately made to go to him, but Aunt Citrine stopped him. "I need to talk to you first, young Frodo. You must understand what you will see before you go in there."
Frodo looked argumentative, but his aunt would not be contradicted. She sat Frodo down on the couch and took her seat next to him. "Clover," she said, glancing at her daughter.
"Yes, Mother?" Clover replied.
"I want you to go in and keep an eye on Bilbo while I talk to Frodo. You already know what to expect," Citrine instructed.
Clover paled. She did NOT want to go in there, see Bilbo so frail and sick, hear him cough. She wanted to get out of Bag End, go somewhere she could be alone, to think things through in private. "But Mother…" she began to protest.
Again, Citrine Proudfoot would not be gainsaid. She glared at her recalcitrant offspring until Clover sighed, and obeyed.
Once her daughter was safely away, Citrine turned her attention to her nephew. Frodo was staring at Bilbo's bedroom door, biting his lip so hard a rivulet of blood trickled down his chin. Citrine was willing to bet he hadn't even noticed it.
"Frodo?" she called quietly, to get his attention. When she had it, she continued. "Would you rather ask questions, or simply have me explain what happened after you left this morning?"
Frodo swallowed. "Just explain," he asked in a small voice, staring again at the bedroom door.
Citrine nodded, not surprised. "Today is payday for the Gamgees, you know that, don't you?" she began. When Frodo nodded, she continued. "Normally, Bilbo goes to Bagshot Row to pay, but this morning, when he didn't show up, Gaffer Gamgee came to Bag End. He knows Bilbo never forgets an obligation…"
"No, he doesn't," Frodo interrupted.
Citrine scowled, but let it go. She went on, "So, the Gaffer figured something must be wrong to prevent Bilbo coming over. When he got here, he found Bilbo unconscious on the floor, coughing up blood."
Frodo gasped. He felt his insides go cold with fear. If coughing up blood wasn't indicative of consumption, he didn't know what it could mean. Nothing safe, of that he was certain.
Aunt Citrine saw her nephew's reaction. She took his hand and patted it reassuringly. "Frodo, trust me when I tell you this is NOT consumption. Bilbo had no fatigue prior to this, at least not excessive for one of his age, he had no shortness of breath, he most certainly has not been losing weight for no reason, and his fever is very high and very sudden, not the slight fever of consumption. Furthermore, Bilbo does have symptoms completely unassociated with that disease. He is delirious, he is convulsing, his fever is dangerously high, and even the lightest touch seems to give him pain. The sudden onset of this thing also gives lie to Doctor Bolger's diagnosis. Were this not the Shire, I for one would suspect foul craft in this illness. It strikes me as unnatural."
That got Frodo's full attention. Aunt Citrine was a Took by birth, elder sister to the current Thain, with all the adventurousness of that breed. It was whispered that in her younger days, she had disappeared into the wild for some years. When she returned, she had knowledge of herbs no hobbit before had possessed. She finished her apprenticeship as herbalist for form's sake only, then took over the apothecary from the ailing Tigo Boffin. Eventually she settled down, married Marmaduke Proudfoot and had children. To all appearances she was now a proper hobbit matron, but still, stories of her odd learning spread about the Shire. It was said she knew ways of magic, learned directly from the Elves, or possibly that Disturber of the Peace, Gandalf. Citrine herself never discussed her Wandering Time, except in very vague terms with Bilbo.
"Unnatural?" Frodo asked. "What do you mean by that?"
"Nothing," Citrine replied, rather sharply. "Forget I said it. Are you ready to go in and see Bilbo now?"
Frodo gulped. Sweat broke out on his forehead, but he nodded resolutely. Citrine smiled, proud of this young hobbit's bravery in the face of what must be a terrible hurt to him. She stood, brushed her skirts and held out a hand to help Frodo up.
"Just remember that Bilbo is a very sick hobbit. His appearance may frighten you. He remains unconscious, and doubtless will not wake. He may babble nonsense to you, as he is very delirious. I suspect he is reliving his adventures, or even further back in his past. He most likely will convulse while you are in there. If he does, simply stay out of his way, and wait for the seizure to pass. If you are frightened overly much, call for me. I will be right outside this door. It is entirely up to you if you would have Clover keep you company, though I would recommend it. This is not a thing to face alone," Frodo's aunt said.
Frodo managed to look at once aghast yet strangely reassured at that suggestion. "I will consider it," he said at last.
Aunt Citrine suppressed a laugh. Now was not the time to be amused by the vagaries of youth, nor speculate on her nephew's odd relationship with her elder daughter. She simply opened the door to Bilbo's bedroom, and held it for Frodo.
The young hobbit paused for a moment. He was sorely afraid to enter the sickroom. Already, he could hear Clover's nonstop babbling. He was not certain he could face this. He glanced at his aunt, who smiled gently. Frodo squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, and entered Bilbo's room.
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Aunt Citrine was standing in the garden of Bag End when the young hobbits approached. She looked upset, and was muttering to herself. Frodo's blood ran cold as he immediately assumed the worst. Clover saw his look and forgot her anger. She took his hand quickly and gave it a small, reassuring squeeze before running to her mother. Frodo followed more slowly, his heart heavy.
"Mother, we're back!" Clover called. Her mother had bent down to inspect a plant and had not seen them. Citrine Proudfoot straightened at the sound of her daughter's voice. "I have some herbs, too. Bennet and loosestrife and cowslip, as well as a little wild horseradish. I thought they might help some," Clover continued.
"Good girl! I was just looking for horseradish. Honestly, what hobbit doesn't grow horseradish in the garden?" Citrine said.
Frodo found his voice, and spoke. "We had some, but we used the last of it a few days ago. I'm sorry."
"No need to be sorry, my boy," Aunt Citrine replied. "I have horseradish aplenty at the apothecary. I just did not wish to leave Bilbo unattended for so long."
"Unattended?" Clover asked with visible disapproval. "Where, then, is Doctor Bolger?"
Her mother pursed her lips in what Clover privately called the Doctor Bolger Look. "He was called away to assist with a birthing," was all Citrine would admit to. Clover suspected there was more to it than that, but knew better than to push her mother for information.
"Will you take Frodo in to see Bilbo now?" she asked instead. "He is anxious to see him."
"Not just yet, my dears," Citrine replied. Seeing the hurt and confused expression on Frodo's face, she continued "I want you to know what to expect before you see him, young Frodo. It would not do for you to panic."
"Panic?" Frodo squeaked. Visions of Bilbo's lifeless body ran through his head, and he swooned. Clover caught him, sparing a glare for her mother for scaring him so.
Aunt Citrine realized then just what meaning Frodo had taken from her casual comment. "Oh, no, my dear boy, I don't mean it like that! Bilbo is very much alive, but he is not awake. Nor is he likely to wake soon, until I can figure out just what felled him in the first place."
Frodo, now sitting on the ground with Clover hovering protectively over him, glanced up at his aunt. "Clover mentioned consumption….." he said tentatively.
Citrine turned her own glare on her daughter. For a moment, mother and daughter looked very much alike. "I DID tell him you disagreed, Mother," Clover muttered defensively.
Aunt Citrine nodded, and turned her attention back to Frodo. "That I do. Doctor Bolger thinks any cough is indicative of consumption, but I know its other symptoms. Bilbo's condition does not match them. Unfortunately, I do not know what his symptoms DO match. It is unlike any other illness I have seen."
Frodo nodded miserably. That it was not consumption was good, but if Aunt Citrine did not know what ailed Bilbo, no one would. And that was very, very bad.
Aunt Citrine led Frodo and Clover into Bag End. As soon as the hobbits entered, they could hear a horrible racking cough coming from Bilbo's bedroom. Frodo immediately made to go to him, but Aunt Citrine stopped him. "I need to talk to you first, young Frodo. You must understand what you will see before you go in there."
Frodo looked argumentative, but his aunt would not be contradicted. She sat Frodo down on the couch and took her seat next to him. "Clover," she said, glancing at her daughter.
"Yes, Mother?" Clover replied.
"I want you to go in and keep an eye on Bilbo while I talk to Frodo. You already know what to expect," Citrine instructed.
Clover paled. She did NOT want to go in there, see Bilbo so frail and sick, hear him cough. She wanted to get out of Bag End, go somewhere she could be alone, to think things through in private. "But Mother…" she began to protest.
Again, Citrine Proudfoot would not be gainsaid. She glared at her recalcitrant offspring until Clover sighed, and obeyed.
Once her daughter was safely away, Citrine turned her attention to her nephew. Frodo was staring at Bilbo's bedroom door, biting his lip so hard a rivulet of blood trickled down his chin. Citrine was willing to bet he hadn't even noticed it.
"Frodo?" she called quietly, to get his attention. When she had it, she continued. "Would you rather ask questions, or simply have me explain what happened after you left this morning?"
Frodo swallowed. "Just explain," he asked in a small voice, staring again at the bedroom door.
Citrine nodded, not surprised. "Today is payday for the Gamgees, you know that, don't you?" she began. When Frodo nodded, she continued. "Normally, Bilbo goes to Bagshot Row to pay, but this morning, when he didn't show up, Gaffer Gamgee came to Bag End. He knows Bilbo never forgets an obligation…"
"No, he doesn't," Frodo interrupted.
Citrine scowled, but let it go. She went on, "So, the Gaffer figured something must be wrong to prevent Bilbo coming over. When he got here, he found Bilbo unconscious on the floor, coughing up blood."
Frodo gasped. He felt his insides go cold with fear. If coughing up blood wasn't indicative of consumption, he didn't know what it could mean. Nothing safe, of that he was certain.
Aunt Citrine saw her nephew's reaction. She took his hand and patted it reassuringly. "Frodo, trust me when I tell you this is NOT consumption. Bilbo had no fatigue prior to this, at least not excessive for one of his age, he had no shortness of breath, he most certainly has not been losing weight for no reason, and his fever is very high and very sudden, not the slight fever of consumption. Furthermore, Bilbo does have symptoms completely unassociated with that disease. He is delirious, he is convulsing, his fever is dangerously high, and even the lightest touch seems to give him pain. The sudden onset of this thing also gives lie to Doctor Bolger's diagnosis. Were this not the Shire, I for one would suspect foul craft in this illness. It strikes me as unnatural."
That got Frodo's full attention. Aunt Citrine was a Took by birth, elder sister to the current Thain, with all the adventurousness of that breed. It was whispered that in her younger days, she had disappeared into the wild for some years. When she returned, she had knowledge of herbs no hobbit before had possessed. She finished her apprenticeship as herbalist for form's sake only, then took over the apothecary from the ailing Tigo Boffin. Eventually she settled down, married Marmaduke Proudfoot and had children. To all appearances she was now a proper hobbit matron, but still, stories of her odd learning spread about the Shire. It was said she knew ways of magic, learned directly from the Elves, or possibly that Disturber of the Peace, Gandalf. Citrine herself never discussed her Wandering Time, except in very vague terms with Bilbo.
"Unnatural?" Frodo asked. "What do you mean by that?"
"Nothing," Citrine replied, rather sharply. "Forget I said it. Are you ready to go in and see Bilbo now?"
Frodo gulped. Sweat broke out on his forehead, but he nodded resolutely. Citrine smiled, proud of this young hobbit's bravery in the face of what must be a terrible hurt to him. She stood, brushed her skirts and held out a hand to help Frodo up.
"Just remember that Bilbo is a very sick hobbit. His appearance may frighten you. He remains unconscious, and doubtless will not wake. He may babble nonsense to you, as he is very delirious. I suspect he is reliving his adventures, or even further back in his past. He most likely will convulse while you are in there. If he does, simply stay out of his way, and wait for the seizure to pass. If you are frightened overly much, call for me. I will be right outside this door. It is entirely up to you if you would have Clover keep you company, though I would recommend it. This is not a thing to face alone," Frodo's aunt said.
Frodo managed to look at once aghast yet strangely reassured at that suggestion. "I will consider it," he said at last.
Aunt Citrine suppressed a laugh. Now was not the time to be amused by the vagaries of youth, nor speculate on her nephew's odd relationship with her elder daughter. She simply opened the door to Bilbo's bedroom, and held it for Frodo.
The young hobbit paused for a moment. He was sorely afraid to enter the sickroom. Already, he could hear Clover's nonstop babbling. He was not certain he could face this. He glanced at his aunt, who smiled gently. Frodo squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, and entered Bilbo's room.