BraellyraLeatherleaf: Is this soon enough? Glad you like this story. Thanks for reviewing.
FrodoBaggins87: Glad to hear that the analogy wasn't too farfetched. .::sighs::. I was wondering about how it would be taken.
A/N: Now, in honor of Frodo and Bilbo's birthday – an update. Frodo's getting better, I suppose, but this isn't the end of the angst, just a calm in the storm, so to speak.
March 22, 1420 S.R.
I had dreams again yesterday, day being the operative part of the word. I did not have them at nights. Is the doctor drugging my evening meal somehow to keep me restless so I am unable to fully perceive that he is up to something? Can that be why I am feeling tired every waking moment?
No, Sandy would not do that. What good would it do him? Or would he do it? He is a Sackville-Baggins after all. I feel so tired I cannot think properly. Why would he do that? There is no purpose I can see. I do not understand what could drive one to do so. To take advantage of an injured hobbit is unperceivable.
I hate it when I am skeptical like this, but I feel I have to be. I cannot trust anyone, for I will only be hurt again when I find they have betrayed me like all others before him. I am foolish. I desire a friend, but why and how do I expect to get one when I cannot trust? When I cannot live? When I cannot give myself, as being one's friend requires? When life and all that it includes seems pointless? When just being alive is no longer fulfilling? When I plan to take my own life? To start a friendship in such conditions would be cruel to the other. F.B.
Frodo lay still, the journal open upon his chest and his arms beside his body. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he tried to keep the flood of tears from being released. He felt so alone now that he had convinced himself Sandy was drugging him. He had hoped Sandy's kindness toward him had been genuine, only to be let down again when the idea struck him. He wished he had not had so much time to think; life would be so much simpler, for he would just do.
Frodo rolled painfully onto his side. Why did he have to wake at all if he was just to stay in bed all day by himself except at meal times?
Frodo was brought back from his thoughts by the sound of Sandy's voice. "Good morning!"
"Hello," Frodo replied dryly as Sandy handed him a bowl. Frodo began to eat, though he looked for traces of anything odd in the porridge.
"Today you are going to work on walking. I aim to have you out of here in three days," Sandy told him.
"I am? You do? Why?" Frodo asked, curiosity getting the better of him.
"Why? Because I do not like to have to charge my patients more than what I have to. Besides, your back has had time to heal, and I think you are ready to walk again – just for a little at a time. Don't you think?"
"Well, my back is still rather sore," Frodo began in protest.
"Say no more, my friend. I will get you some medicine."
"No!" Frodo protested.
"And why so great a 'no' when you are in pain?" Sandy asked, smiling, slightly amused.
"Because – because," Frodo faltered, " I – what I said a couple days ago…pain's a friend, not foe – that."
"I see. Well then, get up." Frodo still did not move, not even to sit up. "Go on. Get up." Nothing. "Oh, at least sit! You aren't afraid now, are you?"
"No!" Frodo sat up quickly, but he recoiled in pain.
"Do you have your bandage on?" Sandy asked, since it seemed the most apparent problem.
"No," Frodo replied curtly.
"Then, you will have to ease yourself into a sitting position and take off your shirt so I can put it on. You won't be going anywhere without it on for a while."
Frodo groaned. This was not going to be easy. He gently began to ease himself to a sitting position on his arms. Once he was high enough for the doctor to put on the bandage, he stayed in that position, supporting all his weight on his arms. Quickly, the doctor wrapped the bandage tightly around Frodo's back. He noticed the bruise from a few days prior was still there, but he said nothing of it to Frodo.
"Now, try to sit up."
"Alright, I will try." Frodo sat up. Pain was still there, but it seemed dim compared to how it was before.
"Does that help?" Sandy asked.
Frodo replied with a nod and, "Somewhat."
"Good. Now, I would like you to try to stand. You may lean on me until you feel stable enough to stand on your own," Sandy instructed.
Frodo stood, face contorting greatly in pain. He began to fall, but Sandy caught him. Frodo used him for support, thankful that he was there, though he still did not trust him. A couple of minutes later, he attempted to stand on his own. Pain shot up his spine and he cringed, but he did not collapse as he almost had before.
Winded, he asked, "Do you know how I was injured?"
"You don't remember?" Sandy asked in reply, a puzzled look on his face.
"No, I don't. I remember a clearing and dragging myself to a road, but nothing more."
"That is rather odd. I spoke with Sancho, but he did not know. I was hoping you would. However, an educated guess based on where you were – could you have fallen from a tree?"
Frodo paused. "I suppose that is possible."
"Anyhow, now that that is settled, why don't you try to walk? I will be here to catch you if you fall."
"Thank you."
"No problem. It's my job."
"I suppose," Frodo replied as he took his first unsteady step. Another step, and another, and another. His back muscles began to hurt after a few steps. "May I rest now?"
"Yes, if you can make it to that chair and sit down in it."
"My back is hurting."
"Well, the only way to toughen up is to bear the pain, as you implied by your own words."
Frodo silently regretted ever saying those words. He could not bear this. The pain was too fierce. "May I take some medicine?"
"No, not now. You can make it. After five minutes, you are going to get up – no, weight off your arms – and you may return to the bed and rest some more. Then, we shall be done for the day and you and I can eat lunch together. You can always practice on your own, later."
Frodo gladly welcomed the passing of five minutes and the short trip – long to Frodo's throbbing spine and hurting muscles – to the bed. He lay down as quickly as he could. The soft pillows beneath his head and the arch of his back helped him bear the pain as they provided something to squeeze.
Sandy returned with a meal consisting of bread, and – yet again – stew. Frodo had never been more tired of stew. Sandy was a bachelor, and did not know how to make a good stew, which added to Frodo's growing dislike of the food. Why couldn't he be like Sam? Frodo would ask himself constantly whenever he ate.
After eating, Frodo continued to lie there until the drugs took effect and he fell asleep until nightfall.
A/N: So, what did you think? What do you think should happen to Sandy whenever I decide to deal with him? Please, review. Thanks for reading!