Author's Note: Hey there, thanks again for nice reviews! I'll start responding individually when I get around to it... coz I'm lazy. Please note, that while I have some idea about what the 'real' Scarlette Fever does (i.e. symptoms...), what I've given poor Pippin may or may not be different, because I'm too lazy to look it up. It's just the name for his illness, so I'm sorry if I am wrong about anything.
And it occurs to me that Paladin may not be the Thain yet, so my apologies if he is not. In fact, I just looked at the family tree, and I do not think he is. Sorry! I'll change it from now on.
Please r&r
I obviously do not own Tolkien or any of his characters save Aunt Flo, Rob, Jac and Malta.
Frodo stirred, and yawned, still feeling bone-tired. He had tossed and turned during the night, while still hugging Pippin on his lap: he couldn't remember the nightmares entirely, but he knew they had been there.
He straightened, looking around sleepily. The fire had burned low: only a small log remained on the hearth, and was almost burned out. Merry was curled up at Frodo's feet, covered in a warm blanket. Pippin was lying limply in his arms, breathing slowly and apparently evenly. His skin felt much warmer then last night, Frodo noted with relief.
He unconsciously ran a hand through Pippin's damp curls- and paused. He cautiously put a finger to his cousin's forehead, and hissed, scrambling to his feet. Sitting Pippin upright in the chair, he pulled away the thick blankets, revealing damp clothes underneath. Pippin was burning up.
"Merry, go and- Merry, wake up." He nudged the sleeping hobbit with a foot, who sat up groggily.
"Wha-"
"Go and get Paladin. Go, Merry." Merry sighed and staggered upright, but with a glance at Pippin hurried out into the hall. Frodo perched upon the edge of the lounge chair again, reaching out and gently shaking his cousin.
"Pippin? Wake up, Pip." Pippin screwed up his forehead, and moaned softly. His eyelids flickered open briefly, but they closed again swiftly, stung by the morning light in the room. "Pippin? Can you hear me?" Pippin nodded slightly, wincing, and licked his lips.
"I- I feel..." he began hoarsely. Frodo put a hand to his cousin's face softly, and smiled miserably.
"I thought you would be alright, Pippin. I should have really checked on you in the night. Heaven knows I was awake often enough to do so." Pippin said nothing, coughing softly. Frodo sighed and began unbuttoning Pippin's damp jacket, waiting impatiently for Paladin.
He was only a few moments longer, hurrying into the room, still wearing the shirt he had worn last night. Eglantine, Pearl and Merry were not far behind. Paladin knelt by the lounge chair, reaching up to feel his son's forehead. He grimaced, and glanced at Frodo.
"How long has he been like this?" he asked tiredly. Frodo shook his head regretfully, throwing Pippin's jacket to the ground.
"I don't know... I just woke and found him so. I don't think he was this bad during the night." Paladin nodded.
"He was not. I checked on him every now and again. This must have happened in the last few hours." Paladin stood and put on his coat, as Eglantine hurried to scoop her son into her arms.
"Where are you going, da?" asked Pearl tearfully, suddenly afraid.
"To see what is keeping Rob. Pearl, lass, put the kettle on for your mother, please. And don't worry your sisters. Try and get some water into him. I won't be long."
Merry hurried after Pearl to fetch cold water as Paladin left, and Frodo helped Eglantine to pull off Pippin's long-sleeved shirt.
...
Merry saw Paladin approaching long before anyone else: he was sitting nervously by the foggy window and peering outside, through a small circle he had rubbed clean of condensation. His name was also written above the peephole, but thankfully no one else had noticed that yet.
He ran back into the hall to open the door for his uncle, who stumbled through with a small laugh.
"I'm glad I didn't take you with me, Merry lad. You would have frozen." Merry smiled faintly, but Paladin's words were too close for comfort. Bilbo and another hobbit both entered, shrugging off their snow-flecked coats. Merry judged him to be Rob, the healer. Long, white hair framed his old, tired face.
"I am sorry to have taken so long, Eglantine." Announced the hobbit quickly, as she appeared from within the kitchen, and Merry nodded to himself. "I didn't want to leave my daughter until the babe had arrived. Mother and son both doing well." Eglantine smiled and embraced the healer briefly.
"Congratulations, Rob."
"Thank you. Now, where is your lad Peregrin?"
...
Frodo sat impatiently, drumming his fingers along the wooden tabletop. Merry was pacing back and forth in front of Peregrin's bedroom door, a tight, unreadable expression on his face. If Frodo had not been so worried he may have been amused. Bilbo had banished them from Pippin's room during the examination.
Merry suddenly sighed in exasperation, and leant against the door, pressing his ear against the wood in a vain attempt to hear what was being said.
Frodo almost laughed as the door was suddenly flung open, revealing a somewhat amused Bilbo and Rob. The healer smiled faintly, and nodded to Merry and Frodo before leaving. Bilbo took Merry's arm and stepped backwards, leading them into the bedroom.
"How is he?" asked Merry eagerly, rushing forwards to the bedside. Pippin had been propped up against several pillows, and was resting limply, arms lying atop a thin layer of blankets. He seemed asleep. Paladin and Eglantine were perching on the end of the bed, and Bilbo took a seat next to Pearl on top of the wooden toy-chest.
"He's just resting now." Said Bilbo softly. "He managed to stay awake during the examination, though." Frodo sat next to Pippin, laying a hand softly upon his forehead. He was still feverish, shifting slightly at the touch.
"Did he say much?"
"No... he said his throat hurt. Probably will for quite some time, poor lad." Frodo noticed the damp cloth resting beside him, and gently pressed it against his cousin's forehead. "He did ask for you two, though." Added Bilbo with a faint smile. "He fell asleep when we assured him you were just outside." Merry stepped backwards, looking down at his little cousin almost apprehensively.
"So, what is wrong?" Bilbo shook himself slightly, and returned to the bedside table, to where Rob had left several small beakers Frodo judged to be some sort of medicine.
"Hopefully, nothing that a few nights rest and generous servings of these will not cure. Hopefully. However, we shall have-" Suddenly the old hobbit noticed Merry standing there, seemingly for the first time.
"Oh, Merry lad: would you wait outside for a few moments? I want to talk to you alone." Merry's face was caught halfway between fear and a scowl, but after a few moments he spun and stalked out into the hallway.
Frodo looked at Bilbo anxiously, gesturing for him to explain. Bilbo seemed hesitant.
"This is going to be hard to explain to Merry." He muttered. He looked at Paladin, and said, "Pervinca and Pimpernel too. Those three cannot come near Pippin until he is better." Frodo blinked.
"Why, Bilbo?" The old hobbit sighed.
"Rob and I are almost certain that Pippin has an illness called 'Scarlette Fever'. It's highly contagious, but only amongst young hobbits. Frodo, you won't be in any danger of catching it, and I don't think Pearl would be either. But try and keep the others away just in case: even out of the same room... and I mean that, Frodo. Merry is absolutely not to come in here." He added quickly.
Paladin sat heavily besides Frodo, gazing at his son miserably. Frodo frowned at Bilbo.
"I still don't understand, Bilbo. What is Scarlette fever? Is that bad? Will he be alright?" Bilbo sighed again, reaching up to touch Pippin's burning forehead.
"Well... it could be a lot worse, but... it's not good news."
"It won't kill him though, will it?" asked Frodo with a smile, which quickly faded when Bilbo's answer was not immediately forth coming. "Will it?"
"Most likely not, Frodo. There is no reason yet to worry about it. But in extreme cases, it can be fatal. For now, all we have to worry about is keeping his fever down, and getting some fluids into him. Frodo, I think you may be staying here quite a while longer, but I doubt that you will want to return with me anyway?" Frodo shook his head blankly, looking down at Pippin.
Bilbo stood, and handed Frodo a small beaker filled with a clear, thick liquid.
"Try and get him to swallow all of this, Frodo, and then I want you to get some rest. Don't argue." Frodo listened vaguely as Bilbo directed Paladin and Eglantine in ways they could help, and asked Pearl to fetch some breakfast for himself and Frodo.
Before he left, Bilbo came briefly to Frodo's side, and put his hand upon his shoulder.
"Try not to worry yourself too much, Frodo. And try not to worry Merry, either. Chances are, that Pippin will wake up in a few days feeling as good as new. But we'll have to watch him closely, until then. You did well, bringing him home last night."
Frodo nodded silently, and waited for his 'uncle' to leave before climbing onto the bed, and lifting Pippin gently into a sitting position before him. He sniffed at the medicine gingerly, before raising it to Pippin's lips and tilting it forwards.
His thoughts flew back to Julian: If that little brat hadn't... He shook himself, watching as Pippin unconsciously swallowed the strong-smelling medicine.
"There's no point in dwelling on Julian," he said out loud, shifting his cousin's limp weight suddenly. "I suppose it's not really all his fault anyway. We'll just have to get you well, Pip, so we can pay him a visit then." He smiled grimly at the thought. The smile did not last long. He softly trailed a finger down the side of Pippin's cold face, and sighed.
"I'm sorry, Pippin." His cousin shifted slightly, still more than half asleep. "I won't leave you until you are well."
...
Frodo looked up as Merry crept in, peering over his shoulder anxiously.
"Merry!" he scolded, as his cousin jumped. "You shouldn't be in here."
"How can I stay away, Frodo?" said Merry heatedly. "Pippin's sick... they can't expect me to wait in the next room and wait for him to get better... or worse-"
"You'll be lucky if they don't send you away, Merry." Cut in Frodo with a frown. "Don't you understand? You can catch this. It isn't just a basic cold."
"I understand." Merry nodded. "But I will not stay away from Pippin, not after we caused him to be sick in the first place. I want him to know I care about him, if he ever wakes up." Frodo was slightly taken aback by his bitter tone: he guessed that he and Bilbo had had some sort of argument.
"You don't have much choice, Merry." Said Frodo softly. Merry ignored him and took a step towards the bed. "Merry," he said warningly. His cousin gave him a mournful look.
"Frodo please-"
"Did not you hear Bilbo, and Paladin? Scarlette Fever is not something you want."
"Maybe it is." Said Merry coldly. Frodo gently set Pippin back down against the pillows, and came to Merry's side, grabbing his arm.
"Merry, I am being serious."
"So am I." He sighed.
"Merry, I know that you are used to looking after him, and comforting him... when he's sick, or hurt... but this time it's dangerous for you too. You'll just have to trust me to look after him."
Pippin groaned softly, as he woke, and Merry stiffened, gazing towards his little cousin. Sleepily Pippin held out a shaking hand, looking vaguely in Merry's direction. Merry swallowed and looked pleadingly at Frodo. Frodo sighed.
"Oh alright, but quickly. If you get sick... on your head be it."