Amelia Rose - Frodo will have your sympathy for a while to come, I think. Lobelia is charming, isn't she?
Endymion2 - Ahh, dear, lovely Lobelia! You would think Lobelia would see Frodo as a greater threat. She's just so haughty and overconfident regarding her family's position as Bilbo's closest relations that she refuses to see the truth that's right before her eyes. Lotho suffers the same deficiency.
FrodoBaggins87 - Welcome! I'm glad you liked "On the Banks of the Brandywine", and that you're enjoying the sequel. I understand if you don't want to read my R - rated stuff, since that's not everyone's cup of tea. Thank you for your kind comments about my writing, and I hope I'll come up with some more enjoyable things for you to read in the future!
LotRseer3350 - Bilbo just had to go tell at least one of those Sackville - Bagginses to back off! He hasn't been able to prove his suspicions about Lotho, but he's peeved enough to go tell them a thing or two.
Midgette - Aww, I know. Frodo is too cute to be sick! Great opportunity to give him a hug if you want to, and for Bilbo as well. This particular trial will bring them closer and test Bilbo's mettle as the guardian of a tween.
Shirebound - Bilbo has figured a few things out, but he is bound by conventions of manners and cannot push too hard without concrete proof. Frodo is going to have a rather unpleasant time for a bit, but he will be surrounded by enough love to make Bag End burst!
Aratlithiel - Bilbo may be old, but he's still got a sharp mind, and a sharp tongue when need arises! Lobelia just can't believe that her dear son would be so nasty as Bilbo is accusing him of being. And now, on to more hobbit huggin' TLC.
FrodoBaggins1982 - Bilbo's greatest challenge is to prove that his suspicions regarding Lotho are justified. Lotho is smarter than those idiots back at Brandy Hall, though, and he will be going out of his way to make himself appear to be innocent. Lobelia is clueless. I don't think she would do any harm to anyone either, just verbal attacks. Otho (at least in this fic) has learned after years of dealing with Lobelia to just shut up and let her rant.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Chapter 10 - Sending Word
~*~Bag End, nightfall~*~
"It's almost ready, Mr. Bilbo," Bell said as she tested the temperature of the water in the bathtub. It was cool, but not really cold. Frodo's fever had risen alarmingly during the day, and any and all measures for reducing it were being taken.
Bilbo stood at the bedside, and Sam sat back in a chair against the wall, well out of the way of the proceedings. Bell entered the room and stood at the foot of the bed, waiting.
"Frodo, lad, wake up. Open your eyes." Bilbo cajoled softly. He reached out and shook Frodo lightly to rouse him. "I'm sorry, lad, but I must wake you now." He reached out again just as Frodo's eyes struggled open.
Frodo's eyes were glassy and he seemed unable to see Bilbo, or at least unable to recognize him. As Bilbo reached out for him, Frodo shrank back, shaking his head and repeating, "No! Let me be!" As soon as Bell and Bilbo managed to grasp him by the arms, he began to struggle in delirium. "Merry! Merry, help me! Don't let them take me!" Frodo shouted as he fought the hands that sought to help him.
Bell gave Bilbo a glance and shook her head. "It's the fever, Mr. Bilbo. Just hold on until he tires himself out." They did just that, still holding onto the feverish tween as his struggles grew weaker, his protests softer.
"Merry - " Frodo gasped as his strength faded. "Where's Merry?"
Bilbo fought the urge to break down and cry. "Merry isn't here, Frodo. It's me, Uncle Bilbo, and Bell Gamgee. We're trying to help you, lad."
As Frodo's strength failed him and his struggling ceased, a look of near - comprehension seemed to come into his eyes for a moment. He fainted, and Bilbo and Bell carried him to the tub and eased him in.
~*~
Something cool and soothing washed over him and Frodo imagined steam rising from his body wherever the water touched him. He had been in the water for a little while before he understood that the hands he had fought against had meant him no harm, and that they belonged to someone he knew, someone he loved who loved him also.
"There, now, Frodo lad. Is that better?" Bilbo asked in a near whisper as he continued to drizzle the cool water over Frodo's fever - heated skin. "I'm sorry, dear boy. I didn't mean to frighten you." More water, more whispered assurances.
"Uncle Bilbo, I'm sorry," Frodo said, reaching to grasp the older hobbit's hand. "I didn't understand. I'm sorry I was difficult." Frodo knew he had fought them briefly, and all Bilbo and Bell had wanted to do was help him.
"Ssshh, dear boy. It was just the fever, I know." Bilbo continued his efforts to soothe the young hobbit in his care. "A fever can muddle a mind, lad. Bell and I know you didn't mean to fight us."
Only Bilbo knew, or thought he knew the things that might have been going through Frodo's fever - addled mind as he and Bell had attempted to rouse him and get him to the tub. Memories of fearful things could seem like immediate realities to a fever patient, especially if those memories rested near the surface. Frodo had struggled until his strength gave out, and it had been very difficult for Bilbo to have to restrain him as he kicked and twisted, crying out to be released.
"It's time to get you back to bed," Bilbo ventured, slowly pulling Frodo upward out of the water. Frodo tried to push himself up in order to help, but he was so dizzy he found it impossible to do much besides to relax and allow himself to be lifted by Bilbo and Bell. Before the cool air could chill him again, Frodo felt himself being wrapped in towels and carried back to his room.
Bilbo helped him into a clean nightshirt and tucked him snugly under the covers as Bell brought more of the tea the healer had left for him. Frodo drank it slowly and dutifully, for its taste was nothing to cheer about. Why must all cures be so bitter, he wondered dimly.
"Sam, would you like to sit with Frodo for a while?" Bilbo looked over at the frightened youth in the corner. Sam swallowed and nodded. "Yes, sir." He sat down in the chair by the bed, then looked up at Bilbo again. "Mr. Frodo will be all right, won't he, Mr. Bilbo?"
Bilbo spoke what he hoped with all his heart was the truth. "Yes, Samwise. He will be fine. The fever hasn't broken yet, and a fever can cause confusion if it's strong enough." He handed a cloth to Sam. "Keep this cool and lay it on his brow, lad." Sam nodded and took the cloth, submerged it in the basin by the bed and wrung it out.
Bilbo led Bell from the room and into the kitchen where she refilled the kettle and placed it over the fire to warm. "Mr. Bilbo, if I may ask, who is Merry?" Bell's curiosity got the better of her, and she berated herself silently for blurting out the question.
"It's all right, Bell," Bilbo said, as if reading her thoughts. "Merry is Frodo's cousin from Buckland. He and Frodo were always together when Frodo lived there. They were inseparable." Bilbo scrubbed his hand across his face. "I should summon them, Merry and his father."
"It may not be as serious as all that, Mr. Bilbo," Bell soothed. She had seen some high fevers and she knew they were frightening to behold. Still, it might be rather soon to talk about summoning the rest of the lad's family.
"Whether it is or isn't, I believe I shall write them and request that they come." Bilbo fidgeted with his pipe, making no move to light it. "Frodo asked for Merry, and it may just be that Merry's presence would be good for him."
"If you like, I could get a message to a courier for you," Bell suggested. "I've got to run along home and cook up supper, and I could have Hamson run the message while I'm working." She looked at Bilbo for approval.
"Very well. I'll be in my study, then," Bilbo said as he turned and left the room. He seated himself at his writing desk and brought out a sheet of paper and a quill. He dipped the quill in the inkwell and hovered over the blank page, struggling with what to write.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Dear Saradoc,
I have no desire to incite panic among you, as it would serve no purpose. However, I must inform you that Frodo has taken ill with a fever, and he has called for Merry. I would deny him nothing that might ease his discomfort, and I know he misses his cousin. I, too, would be grateful for your presence.
Would it be possible for you and Merry to come to Bag End? I realize I have given you no time to prepare, but events have proceeded without regard to anyone's schedule, I'm afraid.
Bell Gamgee and her youngest boy, Samwise have been a great help to me these past two days. Sam has become quite a loyal friend to Frodo, but Frodo will always hold a special place in his heart for Merry.
Please come if you are able.
Best regards,
Bilbo
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Bilbo folded the note into an envelope and sealed it with wax. He left his study and handed the note to Bell along with some coins. "Please pay the courier double if need be, but ask him to ride through the night if he will."
"I'll tell Hamson to say as much, sir," Bell said as she accepted the message.
Bilbo sent Sam home for supper with his mother, promising that he could come back afterward to help with the overnight watch. Once Bell and Sam had gone, Bilbo resumed his place by Frodo's side, and rubbed some of the pungent ointment on the tween's chest. The powerful scent roused the young hobbit and he coughed as he tried to sit up.
Bilbo leaned Frodo back against the pillows. "Does it feel better to sit up, lad?" He asked solicitously.
Frodo nodded. "I can breathe better this way," he whispered. Frodo looked at Bilbo and stated the obvious. "I feel awful."
"That's no surprise, lad. You're most certainly very sick," Bilbo said as he poured Frodo a glass of water. "You need to drink this." He held the glass out and Frodo took it, relieved to see that it was just water and not another bitter draught of the healer's. The water did feel good against his sore throat and he drank all of it.
"I'm tired, Uncle," Frodo told Bilbo as he closed his eyes. "I'm sorry I can't stay awake."
"You sleep all you want to, Frodo. Master Goodbody's remedies tend to cause drowsiness." Bilbo said quietly. "I'll be here the whole time if you need anything. I'll be close by, I promise."
Frodo closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, still in a nearly upright position. Bilbo listened to his breathing and thought it sounded better, clearer than before. The ointment must be helping.
Perhaps he had been hasty in summoning Saradoc and Merry, but the memory of Frodo calling out for his cousin was stark in his mind, and he knew deep down he had done the right thing.
Bilbo cursed Lotho silently for the role he might have played in placing Frodo in this predicament. If Frodo were lost to him as a result - no! He pushed the thought away and lit another candle, as if the light would be enough to chase away the fear he felt when he looked at the pale figure in the bed.
~*~
Lobelia stood with her arms crossed, glaring at everything and nothing. Otho sat in his armchair while Lotho reclined on the sofa. "You should have heard him, Otho," Lobelia snapped. "He all but accused Lotho of trying to kill that ridiculous little Bucklander he's taken in."
"Now, Lobelia, I'm sure he didn't intend to imply that Lotho - " Otho failed to complete the sentence due to Lobelia's interruption.
"He intended every word! He accused Lotho of being responsible for Frodo's outrageous behavior at the Yule party, as well as several other things. Why, he even declared that Lotho must be responsible for that mess at the pond the other day, and we all know that Lotho assisted in the rescue effort!" Lobelia paced back and forth, wishing Bilbo was there so she could smash him over the head with her umbrella.
"Now, Mother, there's no reason to get excited over the ramblings of an old, mad hobbit, is there?" Lotho chimed in. He grinned disarmingly. "Of course I wouldn't try to harm Frodo. That's absurd."
"Of course you wouldn't!" Lobelia ranted. "Where would he get such a notion?"
"He's just being sensitive because he recently took the little orphan in. He's likely to jump at any shadow that falls over my little cousin right now." He smiled as he thought about Bilbo trying to protect Frodo from every little thing. "I don't think you should pay him any mind, Mother."
"I probably shouldn't, Lobelia agreed. "But he did say that he has not made any firm decisions yet concerning the final disposition of his property. I believe he's threatening to cut us out of his will if any harm comes to Frodo." She looked at Lotho pointedly. "He said he wants you to stay away from your cousin."
~Blast him!~ Lotho thought. Could he really suspect the truth? Lotho hadn't thought the old fellow was that quick on the uptake. Where had he slipped? Had he said or done something to give himself away, or was it just that Bilbo mistrusted him on general principles?
"I'm sure it will blow over," Lotho said with more conviction than he really felt. "Don't trouble yourself any further over it, Mother."
Lobelia sighed and resumed her seat in the parlor, taking up her needlework again. Lotho was such a good lad, and so smart! Of course Bilbo's accusations were false, and he was just speaking in anger when he threatened to deny them their inheritance. Still, every time she stabbed the needle into the fabric, she pictured herself stabbing it right into Bilbo Baggins' eye.
~*~
Endymion2 - Ahh, dear, lovely Lobelia! You would think Lobelia would see Frodo as a greater threat. She's just so haughty and overconfident regarding her family's position as Bilbo's closest relations that she refuses to see the truth that's right before her eyes. Lotho suffers the same deficiency.
FrodoBaggins87 - Welcome! I'm glad you liked "On the Banks of the Brandywine", and that you're enjoying the sequel. I understand if you don't want to read my R - rated stuff, since that's not everyone's cup of tea. Thank you for your kind comments about my writing, and I hope I'll come up with some more enjoyable things for you to read in the future!
LotRseer3350 - Bilbo just had to go tell at least one of those Sackville - Bagginses to back off! He hasn't been able to prove his suspicions about Lotho, but he's peeved enough to go tell them a thing or two.
Midgette - Aww, I know. Frodo is too cute to be sick! Great opportunity to give him a hug if you want to, and for Bilbo as well. This particular trial will bring them closer and test Bilbo's mettle as the guardian of a tween.
Shirebound - Bilbo has figured a few things out, but he is bound by conventions of manners and cannot push too hard without concrete proof. Frodo is going to have a rather unpleasant time for a bit, but he will be surrounded by enough love to make Bag End burst!
Aratlithiel - Bilbo may be old, but he's still got a sharp mind, and a sharp tongue when need arises! Lobelia just can't believe that her dear son would be so nasty as Bilbo is accusing him of being. And now, on to more hobbit huggin' TLC.
FrodoBaggins1982 - Bilbo's greatest challenge is to prove that his suspicions regarding Lotho are justified. Lotho is smarter than those idiots back at Brandy Hall, though, and he will be going out of his way to make himself appear to be innocent. Lobelia is clueless. I don't think she would do any harm to anyone either, just verbal attacks. Otho (at least in this fic) has learned after years of dealing with Lobelia to just shut up and let her rant.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Chapter 10 - Sending Word
~*~Bag End, nightfall~*~
"It's almost ready, Mr. Bilbo," Bell said as she tested the temperature of the water in the bathtub. It was cool, but not really cold. Frodo's fever had risen alarmingly during the day, and any and all measures for reducing it were being taken.
Bilbo stood at the bedside, and Sam sat back in a chair against the wall, well out of the way of the proceedings. Bell entered the room and stood at the foot of the bed, waiting.
"Frodo, lad, wake up. Open your eyes." Bilbo cajoled softly. He reached out and shook Frodo lightly to rouse him. "I'm sorry, lad, but I must wake you now." He reached out again just as Frodo's eyes struggled open.
Frodo's eyes were glassy and he seemed unable to see Bilbo, or at least unable to recognize him. As Bilbo reached out for him, Frodo shrank back, shaking his head and repeating, "No! Let me be!" As soon as Bell and Bilbo managed to grasp him by the arms, he began to struggle in delirium. "Merry! Merry, help me! Don't let them take me!" Frodo shouted as he fought the hands that sought to help him.
Bell gave Bilbo a glance and shook her head. "It's the fever, Mr. Bilbo. Just hold on until he tires himself out." They did just that, still holding onto the feverish tween as his struggles grew weaker, his protests softer.
"Merry - " Frodo gasped as his strength faded. "Where's Merry?"
Bilbo fought the urge to break down and cry. "Merry isn't here, Frodo. It's me, Uncle Bilbo, and Bell Gamgee. We're trying to help you, lad."
As Frodo's strength failed him and his struggling ceased, a look of near - comprehension seemed to come into his eyes for a moment. He fainted, and Bilbo and Bell carried him to the tub and eased him in.
~*~
Something cool and soothing washed over him and Frodo imagined steam rising from his body wherever the water touched him. He had been in the water for a little while before he understood that the hands he had fought against had meant him no harm, and that they belonged to someone he knew, someone he loved who loved him also.
"There, now, Frodo lad. Is that better?" Bilbo asked in a near whisper as he continued to drizzle the cool water over Frodo's fever - heated skin. "I'm sorry, dear boy. I didn't mean to frighten you." More water, more whispered assurances.
"Uncle Bilbo, I'm sorry," Frodo said, reaching to grasp the older hobbit's hand. "I didn't understand. I'm sorry I was difficult." Frodo knew he had fought them briefly, and all Bilbo and Bell had wanted to do was help him.
"Ssshh, dear boy. It was just the fever, I know." Bilbo continued his efforts to soothe the young hobbit in his care. "A fever can muddle a mind, lad. Bell and I know you didn't mean to fight us."
Only Bilbo knew, or thought he knew the things that might have been going through Frodo's fever - addled mind as he and Bell had attempted to rouse him and get him to the tub. Memories of fearful things could seem like immediate realities to a fever patient, especially if those memories rested near the surface. Frodo had struggled until his strength gave out, and it had been very difficult for Bilbo to have to restrain him as he kicked and twisted, crying out to be released.
"It's time to get you back to bed," Bilbo ventured, slowly pulling Frodo upward out of the water. Frodo tried to push himself up in order to help, but he was so dizzy he found it impossible to do much besides to relax and allow himself to be lifted by Bilbo and Bell. Before the cool air could chill him again, Frodo felt himself being wrapped in towels and carried back to his room.
Bilbo helped him into a clean nightshirt and tucked him snugly under the covers as Bell brought more of the tea the healer had left for him. Frodo drank it slowly and dutifully, for its taste was nothing to cheer about. Why must all cures be so bitter, he wondered dimly.
"Sam, would you like to sit with Frodo for a while?" Bilbo looked over at the frightened youth in the corner. Sam swallowed and nodded. "Yes, sir." He sat down in the chair by the bed, then looked up at Bilbo again. "Mr. Frodo will be all right, won't he, Mr. Bilbo?"
Bilbo spoke what he hoped with all his heart was the truth. "Yes, Samwise. He will be fine. The fever hasn't broken yet, and a fever can cause confusion if it's strong enough." He handed a cloth to Sam. "Keep this cool and lay it on his brow, lad." Sam nodded and took the cloth, submerged it in the basin by the bed and wrung it out.
Bilbo led Bell from the room and into the kitchen where she refilled the kettle and placed it over the fire to warm. "Mr. Bilbo, if I may ask, who is Merry?" Bell's curiosity got the better of her, and she berated herself silently for blurting out the question.
"It's all right, Bell," Bilbo said, as if reading her thoughts. "Merry is Frodo's cousin from Buckland. He and Frodo were always together when Frodo lived there. They were inseparable." Bilbo scrubbed his hand across his face. "I should summon them, Merry and his father."
"It may not be as serious as all that, Mr. Bilbo," Bell soothed. She had seen some high fevers and she knew they were frightening to behold. Still, it might be rather soon to talk about summoning the rest of the lad's family.
"Whether it is or isn't, I believe I shall write them and request that they come." Bilbo fidgeted with his pipe, making no move to light it. "Frodo asked for Merry, and it may just be that Merry's presence would be good for him."
"If you like, I could get a message to a courier for you," Bell suggested. "I've got to run along home and cook up supper, and I could have Hamson run the message while I'm working." She looked at Bilbo for approval.
"Very well. I'll be in my study, then," Bilbo said as he turned and left the room. He seated himself at his writing desk and brought out a sheet of paper and a quill. He dipped the quill in the inkwell and hovered over the blank page, struggling with what to write.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Dear Saradoc,
I have no desire to incite panic among you, as it would serve no purpose. However, I must inform you that Frodo has taken ill with a fever, and he has called for Merry. I would deny him nothing that might ease his discomfort, and I know he misses his cousin. I, too, would be grateful for your presence.
Would it be possible for you and Merry to come to Bag End? I realize I have given you no time to prepare, but events have proceeded without regard to anyone's schedule, I'm afraid.
Bell Gamgee and her youngest boy, Samwise have been a great help to me these past two days. Sam has become quite a loyal friend to Frodo, but Frodo will always hold a special place in his heart for Merry.
Please come if you are able.
Best regards,
Bilbo
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Bilbo folded the note into an envelope and sealed it with wax. He left his study and handed the note to Bell along with some coins. "Please pay the courier double if need be, but ask him to ride through the night if he will."
"I'll tell Hamson to say as much, sir," Bell said as she accepted the message.
Bilbo sent Sam home for supper with his mother, promising that he could come back afterward to help with the overnight watch. Once Bell and Sam had gone, Bilbo resumed his place by Frodo's side, and rubbed some of the pungent ointment on the tween's chest. The powerful scent roused the young hobbit and he coughed as he tried to sit up.
Bilbo leaned Frodo back against the pillows. "Does it feel better to sit up, lad?" He asked solicitously.
Frodo nodded. "I can breathe better this way," he whispered. Frodo looked at Bilbo and stated the obvious. "I feel awful."
"That's no surprise, lad. You're most certainly very sick," Bilbo said as he poured Frodo a glass of water. "You need to drink this." He held the glass out and Frodo took it, relieved to see that it was just water and not another bitter draught of the healer's. The water did feel good against his sore throat and he drank all of it.
"I'm tired, Uncle," Frodo told Bilbo as he closed his eyes. "I'm sorry I can't stay awake."
"You sleep all you want to, Frodo. Master Goodbody's remedies tend to cause drowsiness." Bilbo said quietly. "I'll be here the whole time if you need anything. I'll be close by, I promise."
Frodo closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, still in a nearly upright position. Bilbo listened to his breathing and thought it sounded better, clearer than before. The ointment must be helping.
Perhaps he had been hasty in summoning Saradoc and Merry, but the memory of Frodo calling out for his cousin was stark in his mind, and he knew deep down he had done the right thing.
Bilbo cursed Lotho silently for the role he might have played in placing Frodo in this predicament. If Frodo were lost to him as a result - no! He pushed the thought away and lit another candle, as if the light would be enough to chase away the fear he felt when he looked at the pale figure in the bed.
~*~
Lobelia stood with her arms crossed, glaring at everything and nothing. Otho sat in his armchair while Lotho reclined on the sofa. "You should have heard him, Otho," Lobelia snapped. "He all but accused Lotho of trying to kill that ridiculous little Bucklander he's taken in."
"Now, Lobelia, I'm sure he didn't intend to imply that Lotho - " Otho failed to complete the sentence due to Lobelia's interruption.
"He intended every word! He accused Lotho of being responsible for Frodo's outrageous behavior at the Yule party, as well as several other things. Why, he even declared that Lotho must be responsible for that mess at the pond the other day, and we all know that Lotho assisted in the rescue effort!" Lobelia paced back and forth, wishing Bilbo was there so she could smash him over the head with her umbrella.
"Now, Mother, there's no reason to get excited over the ramblings of an old, mad hobbit, is there?" Lotho chimed in. He grinned disarmingly. "Of course I wouldn't try to harm Frodo. That's absurd."
"Of course you wouldn't!" Lobelia ranted. "Where would he get such a notion?"
"He's just being sensitive because he recently took the little orphan in. He's likely to jump at any shadow that falls over my little cousin right now." He smiled as he thought about Bilbo trying to protect Frodo from every little thing. "I don't think you should pay him any mind, Mother."
"I probably shouldn't, Lobelia agreed. "But he did say that he has not made any firm decisions yet concerning the final disposition of his property. I believe he's threatening to cut us out of his will if any harm comes to Frodo." She looked at Lotho pointedly. "He said he wants you to stay away from your cousin."
~Blast him!~ Lotho thought. Could he really suspect the truth? Lotho hadn't thought the old fellow was that quick on the uptake. Where had he slipped? Had he said or done something to give himself away, or was it just that Bilbo mistrusted him on general principles?
"I'm sure it will blow over," Lotho said with more conviction than he really felt. "Don't trouble yourself any further over it, Mother."
Lobelia sighed and resumed her seat in the parlor, taking up her needlework again. Lotho was such a good lad, and so smart! Of course Bilbo's accusations were false, and he was just speaking in anger when he threatened to deny them their inheritance. Still, every time she stabbed the needle into the fabric, she pictured herself stabbing it right into Bilbo Baggins' eye.
~*~