Traveler 8

Fever

by Gillian

July 1421 S.R

Sam felt as if his mind was all over the place on the slow walk home. He'd volunteered to carry Fael for the rest of the way home and he busied himself with keeping the active baby occupied. Every now and then he felt Frodo's glance on him but he gamely ignored it and tickled Fael's toes to make him giggle.

It wasn't so easy to avoid those knowing blue eyes once they were home. Sam tried to settle Fael in his cot for a nap while Frodo put the kettle on.

"I might get in a spot of hoeing before dark," Sam said casually as he tried to coax the bottle's teat between the baby's lips. Fael turned his face away fretfully.

"I'll join you once he's settled down," Frodo offered. Fael began to wail and Frodo frowned and laid down the tea pot. "What happened to his sunny mood?"

"Maybe he's over tired," Sam said guiltily. "I did stir him up a bit on the way home." He shot a glance at Frodo again and felt himself flushing. There was a knowing gleam in his love's eyes that made Sam squirm.

"Did da wear you out then?" Frodo crooned, bending over the cot and stroking damp curls from Fael's brow. Then he frowned and laid his palm over the baby's forehead.

"Does he feel warm to you?" Frodo said worriedly, lifting Fael out of the cot and cradling him close.

Sam cupped a work worn hand around Fael's pink curved cheek, instantly feeling a too hot flush of fever.

"That come on sudden!" he exclaimed, and there was that guilt again. He'd been so worried about Frodo's plan for the night he hadn't been paying enough attention to Fael.

Frodo touched his lips to Fael's brow and slipped one hand under his soft little shirt to feel his back.

"Poor little baby," Frodo crooned, kissing fretful tears from flushed cheeks. "Are you feeling poorly then?" The worried gaze he turned on Sam belied his gentle words. "It's getting worse."

Sam met his worried gaze with his own, reaching an arm around his shoulder and feeling Frodo lean against him.

"Maybe I should race 'round to Daisy's?" he suggested.

Fael began grizzling in earnest now, leaning miserably against Frodo's shoulder, red flags on his cheeks. He had one hand in his mouth and was gnawing at his fingers, drooling down his chin and onto his bib.

"Hold on," Frodo said suddenly. Gently tugging the baby's hand away he slipped his own fingers into Fael's mouth and felt around carefully.

"Oh, that explains it!" he exclaimed in relief. "Poor Fael!" He kissed the baby's head again and turned a relieved face to Sam. "It's his teeth,' he explained with a smile. "I remember now that Daisy warned us he could run a fever when they started coming in."

Sam recalled the conversation and sighed in relief. "So she did."

They fussed over the baby for a while, Frodo pressing kisses to his flushed cheeks while Sam carefully stroked his own work rough finger over hot hard gums. Carefully Sam pried a pouting little lip down, exposing the red and swollen gums.

"That does look painful, poor little mite."

Fael's miserable little face was more red than pink now and his head still drooped against his father's breast.

"Perhaps I can still take a walk over to our Daisy's?" Sam suggested, wondering if Frodo would think he was fussing too much. But the look Frodo turned to him was grateful.

"Oh, would you, Sam?" He patted Fael's back and cuddled him close. "I'm sure it's just his teeth but all the same I'd feel better if Daisy took a look at him."

"I'll set up his bath with some cool water before I go," Sam said briskly, jumping to his feet. "Then I'll pop over there. Set both our minds at rest."

Sam left Frodo wiping Fael's flushed face with a cool damp flannel and set out for Daisy's. His quick walk turned to a run once he was out of sight of Bag End and he was puffed and panting by the time he reached Daisy and Eddy's back door.

Daisy was at the line unpegging clothes and handing them to Bluebell who was laying them neatly in a woven basket.

"Sam!" Blue called when Sam stepped through the gate. Daisy looked up, a peg in her mouth.

"Wha's up?" she mumbled. Catching sight of his anxious face she spat the wooden peg out and stepped closer. "Sam?"

"Fael's got a fever," Sam gasped.

Daisy's face grew alarmed and Sam held a hand up, still catching his breath. "He has some teeth sproutin'," he managed. "It's probably that."

"All the same," Daisy said briskly, bending for the basket of wash. "A fever's nothing to ignore. Blue, run for my medicine basket while I put this wash inside."

Sam took the washing from her arms and she smiled at him.

"Taa, love. I'll just call for Eddy to watch the little'uns and I'll come with you."

"You don't have to come all the way to Bag End," Sam assured her, more alarmed by her reaction to his news than he had been when he arrived. He'd expected her to mock his concerns and dispense a little advice.

Blue emerged with a lidded basket over her arm and Daisy took it from her and lifted one side, rifling through the contents. She nodded thoughtfully and then looked up and caught Sam's eye.

"It's just his teeth comin' in, isn't it, Daisy?" he said anxiously.

Daisy's distracted frown faded and she patted his arm reassuringly. "It probably is. But we'll know for sure when we get there."

Sam tried to take reassurance from her firm tone, but he couldn't help worrying about Fael and poor Frodo left alone to cope.

Daisy finally seemed satisfied with the contents of her basket and she hurried over to the gate. "Well, let's go then. My runnin' days are over so we'd best hurry."

"Can I come, mum?" Bluebell called after them but Daisy waved her back. "Take care of the little'uns," she ordered and Blue hung over the gate, arms and legs flapping.

Sam spared her a backwards wave and then they were hurrying down the lane towards home.

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Frodo greeted them at the door, Fael still in his arms, wailing his misery to the world. Frodo's eyes were drawn with worry and alarm.

"Daisy!" he cried in relief. "I don't know what to do! He won't stop crying!"

"Neither would you if you felt as he does," Daisy said, lifting the fretting baby from his father's arms.

Frodo caught Sam's elbow and squeezed it as they followed Daisy into the kitchen. She made to lay Fael on the table and Frodo hurriedly placed a dry towel on the wood to cushion his head.

"Let's take a look see first," Daisy said briskly over the baby's cries. She unbuttoned his soft shirt and spread it wide, running her hands over Fael's little round belly and chest.

Frodo was still by his side and Sam reached out his hand and clutched at his fingers, feeling the desperate grasp returned. They stood silently as Daisy unfastened the baby's nappy and examined him closely.

"Whew," Daisy breathed a sigh of relief and shot them a smile. Her practised fingers refastened the small garments. "No rash," she reported. "And that was my biggest worry. I've heard of a case of the scarlet fever over in Bree."

"But he's all right?" Sam said anxiously, feeling Frodo's fingers clutch tighter.

"Rash before fever," Daisy quoted. "No rash is the best sign there is."

Fael was was still crying weakly and she carefully probed his open mouth, pulling down his lip and touching his sore gums. Fael protested for a moment, then stopped crying and frowned in concentration as he gummed her knuckle industriously.

"Poor lad," she said gently, letting him gnaw. "He's got two coming at once and he's taking it hard."

Frodo breathed a sigh of relief and leaned his head on Sam's shoulder.

"Thank you so much, Daisy," he breathed.

The experienced mother smiled and winked. "How many times have I told you to come for me when you need advice? You hardly need thank me for that. No, all you need do now is get this lad's fever down and see him through the worst." Still letting the baby nurse on her knuckle she picked Fael up and cradled him against her breast.

Sam cupped the baby's cheek and stroked him gently. "I'm sure you're full of advice as to how," he smiled gratefully and Daisy's eyes twinkled.

"Of course!"

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Following his sister's advice to the letter Sam carefully bathed the baby in the lukewarm bath while Frodo stroked the wash cloth over his cooling skin.

"I hope he doesn't suffer like this with every tooth," Frodo said worriedly but Daisy smiled.

"It's amazing what a baby gets used to. It'll get easier, you'll see." She dried her hands briskly and straightened her cap. "Time I was back to my own babbies. Does Eddy good to tend to 'em without me now and then, but not for too long, if you take my meanin'."

Frodo laid down the flannel and turned to his sister-in-law, taking her by the shoulders and kissing her hard on the cheek. "Thank goodness we have you to turn to, Daisy. You're a treasure."

Sam chuckled under his breath to see the flush on Daisy's tan cheeks. She actually appeared speechless for a moment, and then she was waving him away.

"Get away with you," she cautioned, shaking her head and heading for the door.

But her cheeks were still just a touch red.

At the door she turned and Sam could see in a moment that her composure was firmly back in place. "I'm beginning to see, Sam-my-lad, why you've made some of the choices you have." She dropped them a deliberate wink, then disappeared out the door.

Sam and Frodo chuckled and Sam shook his head. "Figures she'd get one parting shot in before leavin'."

"Well, she earned one," Frodo allowed, and they laughed together again.

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Fael's fever cooled but his emerging teeth still seemed to pain him terribly, he grizzled when held and wailed when laid down. In the end they took turns walking the floor with him, letting him gum a cool slice of apple or on their fingers. It was even a struggle getting him to take his bottle.

Now and then he dozed, but it was fitful and darkness fell and the night was well advanced before he finally fell into a deeper slumber. It was Sam who was holding him when he began his gentle snore, and its echo came from his shoulder, where Frodo's dozing head lay.

Sam smiled gently, looking lovingly down into his son's sleeping face, then glancing at his shoulder where Frodo snuffled a little in his sleep, drooling a little on Sam's second best coat. Sam laughed quietly to himself. Had he really wasted an afternoon worrying about Frodo's sudden proposal? Had he really been so nervous about it?

He studied his beloved's sleeping face, hair drooping over his creased brow, mouth slack, soft snores emitting and Sam chuckled again. It was easy to love eyes as blue as forget-me-nots. It was easy to love a wide handsome smile and fresh glowing face. The true test of love came at midnight, when you were both tired and strained and a little the worse for wear. When love still burned so powerfully in your heart at such times, then you knew you had a fire that would stand the test of time.

How silly his nervous little worries seemed next to that!

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Frodo eventually woke and they stumbled to bed, laying Fael between them and grateful that he only sobbed a little in his sleep before settling back down. It was morning before they knew it and Fael was wailing again.

"Fael needs feeding," Frodo mumbled, turning his face into the pillow and away from the light. "It's your turn."

Sam groaned and winced as he tried to lift his head. "S'not my turn," he muttered. "S'your turn."

"Well it better be somebody's turn," Bilbo grumbled from the door. "I won't complain about no sleep when he's ill, but that's his hungry wail if I'm not mistaken."

Frodo came awake suddenly and sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "It is to," he agreed. He laid a hand on Fael's brow and stroked the touch down to his pointed chin. "How are you feeling, my sunshine? How's that nasty tooth?"

Sam rolled over and blinked sleepily as Frodo carefully probed drooling lips.

"Ouch!" Frodo exclaimed. "That's sharp!" He tugged the bottom lip down, exposing two pearly white teeth emerging from pink gums. "Look, Sam! Two at once!"

"Just as Daisy said," Sam grumbled half heartedly.

Frodo picked Fael up and rocked him, soothing his hungry wails. "What a clever boy," he admired, looking down lovingly into wide wet eyes. "Aren't you, Fael? A very clever boy."

"And a hungry one," Bilbo reminded them. "Like his Great Uncle. I'll put the kettle on."

Sam drew the covers down as the old hobbit shuffled down the hall. "Better get his bottle," he said resignedly but Frodo stopped him with a touch on his arm.

"You all right, love?"

"I'm fine," Sam said. "You?"

"I wouldn't want too many nights like that one," Frodo said feelingly. "But we survived." He chucked Fael's chin, smiling as the baby sought his finger like a teat. "We all did."

"Wasn't quite the night you had planned," Sam reminded him and Frodo wrinkled his nose.

"I shouldn't have teased you so about that," he said remorsefully. "I couldn't help it though. Your face when I said you should be pregnant next time!"

Sam snickered, drawing his knees up under the covers and wrapping his arms around them. "I'd have managed it if it had come to that," he said stoutly. "Might have been easier carryin' myself than watching you go through it."

Frodo nudged him fondly. "Easy to say when you'll never have to carry a baby yourself."

"It wasn't your joke about getting pregnant that had me shaking in my boots yesterday," Sam confessed. "I was as nervous as can be just wonderin' what it would be like, you know." He cast a glance at the open door. "Being underneath you."

Frodo flushed gently but nodded to show he understood.

"Then last night I started thinkin' about what it must have been like for you, back at Rivendell. Facin' not just laying with me but getting a baby out of it. Least I don't have to worry about that!"

"Not unless you've been seeing Nestadren behind my back and casting moon magic with him," Frodo teased. "But see here, Sam, me taking a different role in bed isn't something for you to be worried about. I was just joking when I pushed it yesterday, you know? I don't want you to do anything you're not comfortable with."

"Then you don't want me that way?" Sam asked, feeling a little crestfallen.

"Yes, I do!" Frodo assured him quickly, then blushed a little more when Sam's brow rose a little in surprised pleasure at the urgent tone. "Well, I do," he confessed more quietly. "But I shouldn't have teased because, well... I'm as nervous as you are, I suppose."

Sam frowned curiously. "You are?"

Frodo nodded. "Wasn't it as nerve wracking for you? The first time?"

Sam thought back to those distant days, finding it a little difficult to recall what it had been like not to be so intimately connected to Frodo. Not to have the freedom to reach out and touch him, to ask for a kiss or to give one. "I was frightened," he recalled at last. "Of hurtin' you, or doing something you don't like. But you don't have to be worried about that, Frodo."

Frodo tilted his head. "I don't?"

"Well," Sam said, feeling it was obvious. "That was all before we was lovers like. Now we both know that's there's nothin' you and I could do together in our bed that was wrong or strange. And we couldn't hurt each other," he finished confidently. "We just couldn't."

Frodo studied him for a moment, his eyes wide and surprised. Then realisation dawned in them and he nodded. "Of course we couldn't," he said gently.

"So," Sam began, feeling shy. "So I'm not nervous any more, you know? Um, so maybe, tonight?"

"Maybe," Frodo said gently. "When the time feels right for both of us, yes? Because if we're remembering the past I recall how when it came down to spells and moon magic you and I couldn't find our way. But when it came down to love, pure and simple..."

And the memory came back clearly to Sam now, seeing it reflected in Frodo's eyes. Of course, it had always been pure and simple for them.

Sam really wanted to reach for a kiss but Fael decided he'd been patient long enough and began to wail his hungry displeasure once more.

"Our master calls," Frodo said, climbing from the bed.

"Aye, and the sun is shinin' and Bilbo is makin' the tea." Sam climbed out of bed and stretched his stiff muscles. Frodo hurried by him and Sam caught him by the arm and delivered his kiss, just as if the baby wasn't wailing between them.

And Frodo accepted it and returned it, smiling sweetly.

And then they went to breakfast.

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