While Clover was sorting her head out at her Thinking Rock, Frodo was
doing his own soul-searching in Bilbo's sickroom. Not as loquacious as his
cousin, at first he simply sat by his uncle's side in silence. He wasn't
entirely certain what he was thinking at all, let alone how to verbalize
it. Then he recalled something Aunt Citrine had said before sending him in
for the second time.
"Talk to him, young Frodo. It seems to help bring him back from whatever dark place he's lost in. It does not matter what you talk about, just talk. Let him know you're there, let him know he's loved and missed. The will to live often makes all the difference in a recovery, more so when it's an uncanny illness like this one. Help Bilbo find the will to live," she'd instructed. It was very similar to something Clover had said, before they'd quarreled. Coming from Aunt Citrine, however, it had an authority Clover's advice lacked.
"I don't really know why I doubt Clover so much, all the time," Frodo finally said, finding both his voice and a subject to discuss. "She's frequently right, you know, Bilbo. Once I get over being upset with her, I realize she's made several good points. It's just….she makes me so angry!" He paused, subconsciously waiting for Bilbo to put his thoughts in. This was not the first time they'd discussed young Ms. Proudfoot, nor Frodo's difficulty in relating to her. Bilbo actually found the entire situation most amusing. He never hesitated to tease them about it. Now, Frodo found himself waiting for the chuckle and jibe Bilbo always made before dispensing his advice. But the chuckle never came.
Frodo looked at Bilbo and sighed. He felt like he wanted to cry, but he had no more tears. "I wish you'd wake up, Bilbo. I miss you so much already. I miss talking to you, I miss your wisdom and advice. I need it badly right now, too. I think I've really offended Clover this time, and she was only trying to help me. I don't know how to handle that girl! I don't know how to handle any of this. I've always relied on you to help me through the hard times. What am I to do now that you're suffering the hardest time of all?" he asked.
Of course, Bilbo did not reply. Instead, he sighed, and groped restlessly at the covers. Frodo took his uncle's hand and stroked it. "Dear Bilbo," he said sadly. "Everyone tells me to be strong for you, to be there for you. And I want to, it's just……" the young hobbit trailed off into confused quiet. The hand Frodo held tightened ever-so-slightly, just a twitch of the fingers. At first, Frodo thought it was the beginning of another seizure, but when none came, he wondered.
"Bilbo?" he called. An eyelid fluttered. "Bilbo?" he called again, and again an eyelid fluttered. "Bilbo, can you hear me?" Frodo asked, his eyes wide with hope. The hand he held twitched once more.
"Bilbo, if you can hear me, try to squeeze my hand," he instructed. Bilbo's hand twitched for a third time, now with a tiny bit more force. Frodo whooped for joy. "Aunt!" he screamed. "Aunt Citrine, come quickly!!"
The elder hobbit came tearing into the room, expecting more trouble. She saw instead Frodo smiling, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "What is it?" she asked, bustling up to the bed.
"Bilbo heard me! He responded to me! Just a twitch, that's all, but definitely in a response. He's awake!" Frodo cried in excitement.
"Calm down, young Frodo," Aunt Citrine tried to curb Frodo's exuberance. "Are you certain?" She did not want to doubt her nephew's word, but she knew that sometimes the relatives of a patient would want them to be well so badly, they'd imagine improvements that were not real. Frodo had never struck her as the type to do that, but then again, he was known to be flighty. Hope was a good thing, but sometimes too much of it played tricks on a hobbit's mind.
Frodo sensed his aunt's doubt and grew annoyed. "Of course I'm certain!" he stated firmly. "Watch this."
Citrine watched as Frodo turned his focus back toward his uncle. "Bilbo?" he called gently. Nothing happened. "Bilbo, can you hear me?" he called again. Citrine was about to pull Frodo away and send him out for some obviously much-needed rest when she clearly saw Bilbo's eye twitch. "There, did you see that?" Frodo exclaimed triumphantly.
She nodded slowly, not particularly willing to say this. "I saw it indeed, young Frodo, but I am not convinced it was in response to you. He's been twitching like this all day."
Frodo glared at his aunt. He could see where Clover got her stubbornness from. "Perhaps that's the only way he can talk to you. Perhaps his twitches have been in response to whomever's in the room all along," he said.
Citrine eyed Frodo doubtfully. His notion was possible, of course, but not very likely. She had tried when she first came in to get some response out of Bilbo, no matter how small. He would calm briefly at the sound of someone's voice, but never gave any indication he heard, much less understood. To Citrine's practiced eye, Bilbo remained lost in whatever dark dreams he suffered. That Frodo should get a reply when her skills did not galled her, but not enough to dismiss the idea out of hand. Love did strange things to a hobbit, and there was no denying Bilbo loved Frodo more than any hobbit in the Shire. Perhaps the lad was on to something.
As Citrine thought this through, Frodo grew more impatient. He did not like having his word doubted. He felt his intelligence was being insulted, and he was about to say something that would most likely get him in big trouble when his aunt spoke.
"I will believe you for now, young Frodo, but I would like more than a random eye-twitch to go on," she said at last.
Hope sprang back up in Frodo's heart. His tart words for Aunt Citrine left his mind completely. "He squeezed my hand when I asked him to," he said instead.
Citrine raised an eyebrow. Trust a tweenager to forget the most important detail! She reigned in her irritation and did not scold Frodo, but merely asked "Can you get him to do it again?"
"I'll try," he agreed, turning back to Bilbo. "Uncle, if you can hear me, squeeze my hand again."
Citrine watched Bilbo's hand very closely. She was not expecting anything at all, so she was properly surprised when it obediently tightened on Frodo's. The grip was clearly feeble, fleeting, but undeniably in response to Frodo's words. "I am sorry I doubted you, young Frodo," she apologized. "In light of this, I would like to give him a thorough going- over again. You may remain, if you feel up to it. Your presence here seems to make a big difference."
Frodo nodded, reluctantly letting go of Bilbo's hand and getting out of Aunt Citrine's way. He stepped back and watched her set to work.
"Talk to him, young Frodo. It seems to help bring him back from whatever dark place he's lost in. It does not matter what you talk about, just talk. Let him know you're there, let him know he's loved and missed. The will to live often makes all the difference in a recovery, more so when it's an uncanny illness like this one. Help Bilbo find the will to live," she'd instructed. It was very similar to something Clover had said, before they'd quarreled. Coming from Aunt Citrine, however, it had an authority Clover's advice lacked.
"I don't really know why I doubt Clover so much, all the time," Frodo finally said, finding both his voice and a subject to discuss. "She's frequently right, you know, Bilbo. Once I get over being upset with her, I realize she's made several good points. It's just….she makes me so angry!" He paused, subconsciously waiting for Bilbo to put his thoughts in. This was not the first time they'd discussed young Ms. Proudfoot, nor Frodo's difficulty in relating to her. Bilbo actually found the entire situation most amusing. He never hesitated to tease them about it. Now, Frodo found himself waiting for the chuckle and jibe Bilbo always made before dispensing his advice. But the chuckle never came.
Frodo looked at Bilbo and sighed. He felt like he wanted to cry, but he had no more tears. "I wish you'd wake up, Bilbo. I miss you so much already. I miss talking to you, I miss your wisdom and advice. I need it badly right now, too. I think I've really offended Clover this time, and she was only trying to help me. I don't know how to handle that girl! I don't know how to handle any of this. I've always relied on you to help me through the hard times. What am I to do now that you're suffering the hardest time of all?" he asked.
Of course, Bilbo did not reply. Instead, he sighed, and groped restlessly at the covers. Frodo took his uncle's hand and stroked it. "Dear Bilbo," he said sadly. "Everyone tells me to be strong for you, to be there for you. And I want to, it's just……" the young hobbit trailed off into confused quiet. The hand Frodo held tightened ever-so-slightly, just a twitch of the fingers. At first, Frodo thought it was the beginning of another seizure, but when none came, he wondered.
"Bilbo?" he called. An eyelid fluttered. "Bilbo?" he called again, and again an eyelid fluttered. "Bilbo, can you hear me?" Frodo asked, his eyes wide with hope. The hand he held twitched once more.
"Bilbo, if you can hear me, try to squeeze my hand," he instructed. Bilbo's hand twitched for a third time, now with a tiny bit more force. Frodo whooped for joy. "Aunt!" he screamed. "Aunt Citrine, come quickly!!"
The elder hobbit came tearing into the room, expecting more trouble. She saw instead Frodo smiling, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "What is it?" she asked, bustling up to the bed.
"Bilbo heard me! He responded to me! Just a twitch, that's all, but definitely in a response. He's awake!" Frodo cried in excitement.
"Calm down, young Frodo," Aunt Citrine tried to curb Frodo's exuberance. "Are you certain?" She did not want to doubt her nephew's word, but she knew that sometimes the relatives of a patient would want them to be well so badly, they'd imagine improvements that were not real. Frodo had never struck her as the type to do that, but then again, he was known to be flighty. Hope was a good thing, but sometimes too much of it played tricks on a hobbit's mind.
Frodo sensed his aunt's doubt and grew annoyed. "Of course I'm certain!" he stated firmly. "Watch this."
Citrine watched as Frodo turned his focus back toward his uncle. "Bilbo?" he called gently. Nothing happened. "Bilbo, can you hear me?" he called again. Citrine was about to pull Frodo away and send him out for some obviously much-needed rest when she clearly saw Bilbo's eye twitch. "There, did you see that?" Frodo exclaimed triumphantly.
She nodded slowly, not particularly willing to say this. "I saw it indeed, young Frodo, but I am not convinced it was in response to you. He's been twitching like this all day."
Frodo glared at his aunt. He could see where Clover got her stubbornness from. "Perhaps that's the only way he can talk to you. Perhaps his twitches have been in response to whomever's in the room all along," he said.
Citrine eyed Frodo doubtfully. His notion was possible, of course, but not very likely. She had tried when she first came in to get some response out of Bilbo, no matter how small. He would calm briefly at the sound of someone's voice, but never gave any indication he heard, much less understood. To Citrine's practiced eye, Bilbo remained lost in whatever dark dreams he suffered. That Frodo should get a reply when her skills did not galled her, but not enough to dismiss the idea out of hand. Love did strange things to a hobbit, and there was no denying Bilbo loved Frodo more than any hobbit in the Shire. Perhaps the lad was on to something.
As Citrine thought this through, Frodo grew more impatient. He did not like having his word doubted. He felt his intelligence was being insulted, and he was about to say something that would most likely get him in big trouble when his aunt spoke.
"I will believe you for now, young Frodo, but I would like more than a random eye-twitch to go on," she said at last.
Hope sprang back up in Frodo's heart. His tart words for Aunt Citrine left his mind completely. "He squeezed my hand when I asked him to," he said instead.
Citrine raised an eyebrow. Trust a tweenager to forget the most important detail! She reigned in her irritation and did not scold Frodo, but merely asked "Can you get him to do it again?"
"I'll try," he agreed, turning back to Bilbo. "Uncle, if you can hear me, squeeze my hand again."
Citrine watched Bilbo's hand very closely. She was not expecting anything at all, so she was properly surprised when it obediently tightened on Frodo's. The grip was clearly feeble, fleeting, but undeniably in response to Frodo's words. "I am sorry I doubted you, young Frodo," she apologized. "In light of this, I would like to give him a thorough going- over again. You may remain, if you feel up to it. Your presence here seems to make a big difference."
Frodo nodded, reluctantly letting go of Bilbo's hand and getting out of Aunt Citrine's way. He stepped back and watched her set to work.