Chapter 19
Frodo's hand circled his huge stomach, stroking the unborn child unconsciously, his eyes held by the flash and sparkle of crystals in the midday sun, although it was not crystals that he saw. In his mind's eye he was watching a wide, quietly flowing river. Sunlight tipped a group of expanding ripples, betraying the presence of several fish just below the surface.
His mother's soft laugh drifted from somewhere behind him, swiftly followed by his father's amused yelp as she smacked his hand. Frodo smiled and popped another strawberry in his mouth, his fingers pink and sticky with the juice. Doubtless, Papa had tried to steal a kiss. He was always doing that. Many times, when Mama was baking, her hands deep in an elastic ball of bread dough, Frodo had been forced to hold in a grin as he watched Papa sneak up behind her to plant a kiss on her neck. They loved each other very much and yet there was always plenty of love and more to spare for their son.
"I should have known I'd find you here."
Frodo blinked back to the present. "I'm sorry, Bilbo. Did you say something?"
His uncle shook his head. "You always were a one for wool gathering, Frodo Baggins. I've been waiting for you this last half-hour. You were supposed to come to my room so that we could practice your breathing exercises. I should have known you'd be in the nursery. You want to be careful, lad. You're going to see more than enough of this room over the next year or two. At this rate you'll be sick of the sight of it before the baby is even born."
Frodo let his gaze caress each lovingly created item in the room. "Oh, I very much doubt that, Bilbo."
Facing east, the room caught the best of the morning sun and the older hobbit shook his head as he crossed the sun-warmed floor. "Have you been for your walk yet?" Bilbo glanced down at his nephew's feet and sighed. "No. I can see not. Your ankles look like balloons, lad and if Lord Elrond sees them you'll catch it. If you're going to sit in that rocker for hours on end at least rock in it. That would help to stop your ankles swelling."
He reached out a hand to help Frodo ease his bulk out of the chair and the younger hobbit tried, in vain, to catch a glimpse of the aforementioned portions of his body. He did not really need to see them however, because he could feel the bloated stiffness of them as soon as he tried to take a step, and Bilbo had to slip an arm about his waist to help him.
"I do seem to be doing a lot of daydreaming lately, don't I? But it's good daydreaming, Bilbo. It's not memories of the journey." He allowed his uncle to lead him out of the room and down the hallway. "My memories are coming back, Bilbo. Oh, not just the pictures . . . like before . . . the ones that seemed to belong to someone else. I can feel these, touch them. They're real. They're mine . . . a part of me."
Bilbo paused and turned his nephew to face him, looking into the softly glowing face and finding the relaxed smile that he had thought never to see again. "When did this start?" he breathed, tears beginning to gather.
"I don't know. A few months ago I suppose. It was very slow at first . . . just little flashes of emotion and memory . . . but in these past two or three weeks they've been getting more and more frequent. It's as though they were all behind a big pane of glass and somewhere a crack has developed and is getting wider and wider."
The glow had become a light and the smile a grin and Bilbo gathered his nephew close, or at least as close as he could in Frodo's present state, in a warm hug.
"Oh, my lad. I'm so glad. I have been so worried for you."
"I don't think this would have happened without Calimore, Uncle. I think he has brought changes to more than my body. I feel so . . . so . . . peaceful."
Bilbo slipped an arm about his waist and started the two of them walking again, his gruff voice betraying his emotion although his words were very matter-of-fact.
"Yes, well. I don't think you'll be feeling very peaceful if Lord Elrond discovers you haven't been for your walk or that we haven't practised your breathing. How about us trying to do both at once? We'll go for a stroll in the long gallery. Now then . . . in through your nose and out through mouth . . . nice and slow . . . A good open and relaxed mouth."
By the time Elrond found them, after luncheon, Frodo's ankles had returned to something close to their normal proportions. The hobbits were sitting either side of the fire in Bilbo's room, trying not to laugh as their mirrored faces looked for all the world like a couple of ornamental carp in a pond, trying to relax their mouths as they breathed out. So amused were they, in fact, that the elf had been standing, arms folded and face stern, for some minutes before they noticed him. At which point, both hobbits turned bright red and dissolved into even more laughter. Elrond suspected that they would have gone on for several minutes more if Frodo had not put his hand to his stomach and sighed.
"Here I go again." His laughter ceased as he remembered to do as the healer had advised and use the opportunity to rehearse his breathing throughout the tightening. Bilbo dried his eyes while he waited and by the time Frodo refocused sobriety had returned. Elrond pulled up one of the larger chairs and sat between them.
"When I entered I was beginning to wonder whether you had actually been practising your breathing at all. I am pleased to see that you have." As he spoke he bent to lift Frodo's ankles and slide a footstool beneath them. His sensitive fingers did not fail to note the spongy feel of them. "You should walk a little more this afternoon or you may find yourself confined to your bed for the rest of your term. You cannot afford to let your ankles become swollen. You have difficulties enough, balancing."
Frodo nodded. "I don't know why more ladies don't tumble when they're in this condition."
"Most find the last two months trying and some are prone to stumble. You are at even more of a disadvantage than they, in that you have not the same bone structure as a female. Your hips are narrower and that gives you a different centre of balance, making you more liable to fall with this uneven weight distribution. You must take extra care . . . but you must also exercise."
Frodo pinked when the healer asked his next question and Bilbo tried, unsuccessfully, to hide his smile behind a cough.
"Have your bowel movements been regular?"
"Why do you ask that," Frodo replied quickly, suspecting that the elf already knew the answer.
"I do not wish to pry, Frodo," Elrond smiled. "Your babe is taking up a great deal of space in your abdomen now and food is moving more slowly through your gut so that your body makes best use of the nutrition. Sometimes that makes ladies a little . . . constipated and that can lead to a great deal of discomfort, which I can easily remedy if I am advised of it. Now . . . have your bowel movements been regular?"
Frodo squirmed a little. "Well, actually. Not really, not lately."
Elrond held out his hand, opening it to reveal a tiny sealed vial in his palm. It appeared to be filled with some sort of oil and Frodo picked it up curiously. .
"Bilbo . . . I think Frodo will need a spoonful of honey in a moment. Would you be good enough to fetch it from the table?"
The older hobbit complied at once and Frodo glanced up at Elrond in concern. "Does it taste . . . very . . . nasty?" He broke the seal and sniffed tentatively, reeling back in alarm at the smell that assailed his nostrils. "Do I have to take it? I'm not terribly uncomfortable."
Bilbo returned and stood beside his nephew, filling a spoon with honey and trying desperately to stop it drizzling off the edges.
Elrond's tone was sympathetic. "I know it smells and tastes awful but it is the most effective remedy and it will cause no distress to the babe. Come now. Hold your breath and it will be downed in two swallows. Bilbo is at the ready with honey."
Frodo supposed he had tasted worse, although those were memories he would rather not be reminded of. He glanced down at his over-ripe belly. "The things I do for you . . ." he murmured, before taking a deep breath and swallowing the vile oil. He shuddered involuntarily as it went down and leaned forward eagerly for the honey. When he finally had enough control of his facial muscles to speak he turned to Elrond accusingly.
"Next time you ask me that question I think I may lie."
Elrond merely smiled softly and retrieved the empty vial, from where it was still clutched tightly in Frodo's fingers. "I do not think that you will. I will leave you to your practising now . . . and do not forget to take that walk. I will send Elrohir to accompany you."
Frodo sank back in his chair and stared worriedly at the fire. He had not realised that having a baby was such hard work.
00000
The fire in the hearth was dying down and Frodo considered getting up to add another log. He wondered if it died down every night at this time. It could not be more than a couple of hours past midnight and he could not remember ever waking up to find embers in the grate in the morning. Sam would call it, "Elven Magic" but Frodo preferred to think that perhaps someone came in while he slept and tended it. Perhaps tonight he would find out who, although he would rather not. He would much rather be asleep.
He had gone to bed several hours ago, tired and wanting desperately to sleep but his body refused to let him. Breathing was difficult, especially with the burning pain in his chest. Once more, he tried to roll over onto his side but he could not spare a hand to hold the blankets and quilts away from him and when he got there he found a big wad of covers constricting him. Frustrated, he rolled onto his back again, cursing the burning cramping pain that would not let him sleep. He should not have eaten cheese and strawberry jam sandwiches for supper. Whimpering in shear frustration, he tried in vain to take a deep breath.
The door to his room opened silently and Frodo was surprised to see Lord Elrond enter. The elf crossed to the hearth first, loosening the embers with a poker and adding a couple more logs, before dusting his hands and turning to the bed. His eyebrows rose when he found Frodo watching him.
"Good evening Frodo. Are you having difficulty sleeping?" He laid a gentle hand upon the hobbit's brow, checking for any signs of fever.
"Heartburn," Frodo replied shortly. "Do you visit me every night?"
Elrond checked the contents of the bedside table. "I call in every evening before retiring. You are usually deeply asleep." He found the glass of milk that normally resided there and moved to help Frodo sit up. "Here. Drink this. It will help to counteract the acid."
About to take a sip, Frodo blinked up at the healer in horror. "Acid! Where did that come from?"
Elrond settled himself upon the edge of the bed and slipped a finger beneath the glass to lift it to Frodo's lips. "Your baby is pushing upward on your internal organs and some of the changes in your body that soften the entrance to your birth canal can affect other organs as well. Heartburn is caused by acid being forced up into the tube that leads from your mouth to your stomach."
"I have acid in my stomach?" Now he definitely knew he should not have eaten those sandwiches.
Elrond raised one brow and glanced at the book of poetry on the table. "You would perhaps have been better served by your reading habits if you had chosen books on anatomy, rather than poetry.
Your body produces acid that is used by your stomach to break up the food you eat. It dissolves out the elements you need and the unused portion is expelled through your back passage."
Frodo relaxed a little. "My goodness. I had no idea all that went on inside when I ate my dinner. No wonder it gets so noisy in there sometimes. It could almost put a person off eating."
His comment raised a soft chuckle from Elrond. "I think it would take a great deal more than that to dissuade a hobbit from eating.
I am reluctant to give you any medication to relieve the heartburn. You share the same blood with your baby at the moment and anything I give you will also reach him. Just as I would not give you the same amount of medicine that I would give a man, so it would not be safe to give your babe the same dose that I would need to give you. You can help yourself, however.
You should eat a little and often . . . at least half of that instruction should be easy for a hobbit to follow. Drink plenty of milk, as that will help to counteract the acid. And from now on you should not sleep flat on your back. That will benefit you in other ways, too."
Finishing his milk, Frodo handed back the empty glass. Elrond pulled back the covers and helped Frodo turn onto his side. A cushion was slipped beneath the swollen abdomen and a pillow against his back. Then Elrond drew the covers back over him, smoothing out the creases. Frodo sighed in blessed relief, comfortable at last.
"Thank you, Lord Elrond." He smiled and stroked the enormous dome of his belly. "Will it be much longer, do you think?"
"I would expect the babe to arrive at Yule under normal circumstances, but in this case we cannot afford to make too many assumptions. Yours is hardly a normal circumstance. Please do not hesitate to send for me if you feel any change in your condition." He placed a little hand bell within Frodo's reach on the table. "If you have no other questions you should try to sleep. I will leave instructions for them not to wake you too early in the morning."
Frodo smiled gratefully. "Lord Elrond, thank you for your care. I don't know what I would have done without you. You've helped me stay calm and actually enjoy what could have been a very frightening experience. I will never be able to repay your kindness to me."
Rising, the Lord of Imladris surprised Frodo by bowing low. "It has been my honour and pleasure. There is no debt to repay, but would you do me one kindness in return?"
"Of course. Whatever you ask."
"Please stop calling me, Lord Elrond. In a few weeks you will have no time to bother with such formalities so let us dispense with them today. My name is Elrond. I am not your Lord. I am your healer and, if you will permit me, your friend."
Frodo could not help the grin that broke out on his face. "I am proud to consider you a friend . . . Elrond."
"Thank you . . . Frodo. Now go to sleep." He turned and was gone in a swirl of dark robes and a light waft of calming sandalwood.
Feeling Calimore move gently within him, Frodo snuggled into his pillows, comfortable at last until . . .
"Oh bother!"
He levered himself up, wondering if they had remembered to leave a pot beneath his bed so that he did not have to walk all the way to the privy.
TBC