Disclaimer: In this story, I do not own the characters created by J.R.R Tolkien. I wish I did but I don't.
Summary: A friendship where you would lay your life down for your friends, is the
type of friendship that Sam, Merry, and Pippin have with Frodo. A friendship such as this doesn't start just anywhere. This pre-LotR story shows how friendship and sacrifice go hand. This story takes place five years after Bilbo's departure from the Shire. note: h/c, angst, no slash.
Ailsa Joy- I really enjoyed writing the gossiping hobbits. I like to add a little humor to my chapters despite the angsty drama. I put a lot of thought into how I would write Pippin. I really think that he has his immature and fun- loving hobbity ways, but when it comes to bad things happening to Frodo and Merry he takes things very seriously and is mature about it.
Aemilia Rose- I am sorry about the cliffhangers, but I really enjoy writing them. :::grins evilly::: You will find out in this chapter about what the disease is and how contagious it is. As you will see I will keep the angst on a small scale hobbit-wise, but the potency of it is another question (Don't worry if this doesn't make sense, because it will fairly soon)
MBradford- I glad you had a great vacation! Poor Frodo us authors put him through hell between injuring him, getting him sick, and giving him psychopathic stalkers. :::cough::: Bramblethorn :::cough::: I really am excited that you are bringing him back.
Iorhael- I am glad you liked that little bit of gossip. Such a naughty hobbit. Thanks for the advice. I have a Macintosh so when I save my document as a Web page it screws up the punctuation. If you know any way other than that to do italics and bold do tell, otherwise I will just avoid them all together.
A/N: Updates will be less frequent do to school and sports. But I am NOT going to give up on this story. So keep reading and reviewing.
Ch. 11
Ramora
Dr. Broadbelt walked to stand in front of the old healer. "Dr. Bolger, what is going on and what did you just say?"
"Ramora Fever," Dr. Bolger said quietly.
"What is Ramora Fever?" Asked Dr. Boffin.
Dr. Bolger took a deep breath and soothed back his grey curls. "Fifty years ago there was a outbreak of a mysterious disease. Thirty hobbits contracted the illness and only two survived. The first recorded hobbit to contract the disease was a middle-aged hobbit woman named, Ramora Burrows. She came to my mentor, Ferdinard Proudfoot, complaining of the same symptoms that you described Mosco Goodbody as having. I am not exactly sure how the disease came about, but I do know that it is spread through the transfer of liquids, such as the sharing of food or drink or intimate interaction between two individuals. Well after six hobbits became ill with the disease, all the healers of the Shire met together at a meeting much like this one to discuss possible antidotes and or cures. Sadly we did not succeed.
"So there is no cure to the disease?" Said Dr. Hornblower horrified.
"No, there is one cure," Dr. Bolger replied.
"I thought you said that none of healers could come up with a cure?" Interjected Dr. Bunce.
"I said that the none of the healers and I could come up with a cure, but I didn't say there wasn't one."
"Cut to the chase, Dr. Bolger." Shot Dr. Goldworthy.
"As I was saying, we didn't discover the cure. It was the Reginard Burrows, Ramora's husband, who made the antidote to the disease. Shortly after Ramora contracted the disease both her husband and their only son, Fosco, caught it. The disease took Ramora within two weeks of her contracting it, and beside her deathbed he promised to find away to save their son. Three days after her death, Reginard made a total recovery. He was the only victim of the disease to have this happen. I do not know for sure, but he somehow made an antidote using his own blood. I believe that there was something in his that made him immune to the disease, something that neither his wife nor son had. Sadly the disease took the life of his son before he could give him the antidote. Heartbroken, Reginard sold the last two doses of the antidote to Dr. Proudfoot and myself and moved to somewhere in Bree. Dr. Proudfoot used one of the antidotes on the last victim of Ramora Fever and with a few days the hobbit made a full recovery. I have the last antidote in the Shire," Dr. Bolger Finished.
"Is there anyway to duplicate the antidote?" Asked Dr. Bunce.
"Not that I know of." Dr. Bolger said sadly, "Mr. And Mrs. Goodbody must be quarantined and anyone else who could have contracted the disease. We are all in trouble if the disease has already spread."
Hobbition
After Pippin told Sam what had happened, they both sat in silence.
Not an awkward silence, but a silence of deep thought and worry. This
eerie silence was only occasionally broken by the soft foot falls of
Pippin as he moved about to check on his cousins. Much to Pippin's
relief Merry was sleeping peacefully in his drug-induced state. So
peacefully that Pippin put his head on Merry's chest several times to
make sure he was still breathing. Pippin was getting anxious about
the fact that Frodo had yet to wake up. Frodo had a good – sized gash
on the side of his head, and Sam had been pressing a wet cloth against
it till he was lulled to sleep by the gentle rocking of the cart.
Pippin's thoughts were interrupted by the noise of Frodo sighing as he
began to move in Sam's lap. Almost like a sixth sense, Sam woke just
as Frodo moved slightly.
"Frodo?" Pippin said softly, leaning in close to Frodo's face.
In response, Frodo slowly opened his eyes and immediately grimaced as
the pain from his head hit him.
"Mr. Frodo can you hear me?"
After Frodo nodded slightly, Pippin stuck out four fingers in front of
Frodo's face in panicked immediacy, "How many fingers am I holding
up?"
"Twenty-three." Frodo answered weakly. Pippin blanched. "Calm down
Pippin, I was just joking. You are holding out four fingers."
Frodo groaned as his fingers touched the gash on his head, "Oww! That
hurts."
Sam gently removed his Master's hand from the cut, "Mr. Frodo, don't
touch it. You 'urt your head pretty awful."
Frodo rubbed his eyes and looked over to see Merry lying on a cot on
the other side of the cart.
"Merry!" Frodo said as struggled to free himself from Sam's grasp.
"Let me see him!"
Pippin helped hold Frodo back and said, "Calm down, he's just sedated
for the time being. Ms. Chubb said he won't wake till the medicine
wears off."
Ms. Chubb's voice broke into the conversation, "Master Baggins, you
must not overwork yourself. You more than likely have a concussion.
Besides, we will reach Dr. Dora Bracegirdle's office soon."
Frodo's already pale face turned a couple shades paler than it
normally was. He then nestled his head between Pippin's neck and
shoulder, and groaned.
"That is Lobelia's sister, is it not?" Pippin said to Frodo.
Frodo nodded and emitted another miserable groan. Pippin chucked
softly and Sam cringed at the thought of Lobelia's screechy high-
pitched voice.
TBC
Summary: A friendship where you would lay your life down for your friends, is the
type of friendship that Sam, Merry, and Pippin have with Frodo. A friendship such as this doesn't start just anywhere. This pre-LotR story shows how friendship and sacrifice go hand. This story takes place five years after Bilbo's departure from the Shire. note: h/c, angst, no slash.
Ailsa Joy- I really enjoyed writing the gossiping hobbits. I like to add a little humor to my chapters despite the angsty drama. I put a lot of thought into how I would write Pippin. I really think that he has his immature and fun- loving hobbity ways, but when it comes to bad things happening to Frodo and Merry he takes things very seriously and is mature about it.
Aemilia Rose- I am sorry about the cliffhangers, but I really enjoy writing them. :::grins evilly::: You will find out in this chapter about what the disease is and how contagious it is. As you will see I will keep the angst on a small scale hobbit-wise, but the potency of it is another question (Don't worry if this doesn't make sense, because it will fairly soon)
MBradford- I glad you had a great vacation! Poor Frodo us authors put him through hell between injuring him, getting him sick, and giving him psychopathic stalkers. :::cough::: Bramblethorn :::cough::: I really am excited that you are bringing him back.
Iorhael- I am glad you liked that little bit of gossip. Such a naughty hobbit. Thanks for the advice. I have a Macintosh so when I save my document as a Web page it screws up the punctuation. If you know any way other than that to do italics and bold do tell, otherwise I will just avoid them all together.
A/N: Updates will be less frequent do to school and sports. But I am NOT going to give up on this story. So keep reading and reviewing.
Ch. 11
Ramora
Dr. Broadbelt walked to stand in front of the old healer. "Dr. Bolger, what is going on and what did you just say?"
"Ramora Fever," Dr. Bolger said quietly.
"What is Ramora Fever?" Asked Dr. Boffin.
Dr. Bolger took a deep breath and soothed back his grey curls. "Fifty years ago there was a outbreak of a mysterious disease. Thirty hobbits contracted the illness and only two survived. The first recorded hobbit to contract the disease was a middle-aged hobbit woman named, Ramora Burrows. She came to my mentor, Ferdinard Proudfoot, complaining of the same symptoms that you described Mosco Goodbody as having. I am not exactly sure how the disease came about, but I do know that it is spread through the transfer of liquids, such as the sharing of food or drink or intimate interaction between two individuals. Well after six hobbits became ill with the disease, all the healers of the Shire met together at a meeting much like this one to discuss possible antidotes and or cures. Sadly we did not succeed.
"So there is no cure to the disease?" Said Dr. Hornblower horrified.
"No, there is one cure," Dr. Bolger replied.
"I thought you said that none of healers could come up with a cure?" Interjected Dr. Bunce.
"I said that the none of the healers and I could come up with a cure, but I didn't say there wasn't one."
"Cut to the chase, Dr. Bolger." Shot Dr. Goldworthy.
"As I was saying, we didn't discover the cure. It was the Reginard Burrows, Ramora's husband, who made the antidote to the disease. Shortly after Ramora contracted the disease both her husband and their only son, Fosco, caught it. The disease took Ramora within two weeks of her contracting it, and beside her deathbed he promised to find away to save their son. Three days after her death, Reginard made a total recovery. He was the only victim of the disease to have this happen. I do not know for sure, but he somehow made an antidote using his own blood. I believe that there was something in his that made him immune to the disease, something that neither his wife nor son had. Sadly the disease took the life of his son before he could give him the antidote. Heartbroken, Reginard sold the last two doses of the antidote to Dr. Proudfoot and myself and moved to somewhere in Bree. Dr. Proudfoot used one of the antidotes on the last victim of Ramora Fever and with a few days the hobbit made a full recovery. I have the last antidote in the Shire," Dr. Bolger Finished.
"Is there anyway to duplicate the antidote?" Asked Dr. Bunce.
"Not that I know of." Dr. Bolger said sadly, "Mr. And Mrs. Goodbody must be quarantined and anyone else who could have contracted the disease. We are all in trouble if the disease has already spread."
Hobbition
After Pippin told Sam what had happened, they both sat in silence.
Not an awkward silence, but a silence of deep thought and worry. This
eerie silence was only occasionally broken by the soft foot falls of
Pippin as he moved about to check on his cousins. Much to Pippin's
relief Merry was sleeping peacefully in his drug-induced state. So
peacefully that Pippin put his head on Merry's chest several times to
make sure he was still breathing. Pippin was getting anxious about
the fact that Frodo had yet to wake up. Frodo had a good – sized gash
on the side of his head, and Sam had been pressing a wet cloth against
it till he was lulled to sleep by the gentle rocking of the cart.
Pippin's thoughts were interrupted by the noise of Frodo sighing as he
began to move in Sam's lap. Almost like a sixth sense, Sam woke just
as Frodo moved slightly.
"Frodo?" Pippin said softly, leaning in close to Frodo's face.
In response, Frodo slowly opened his eyes and immediately grimaced as
the pain from his head hit him.
"Mr. Frodo can you hear me?"
After Frodo nodded slightly, Pippin stuck out four fingers in front of
Frodo's face in panicked immediacy, "How many fingers am I holding
up?"
"Twenty-three." Frodo answered weakly. Pippin blanched. "Calm down
Pippin, I was just joking. You are holding out four fingers."
Frodo groaned as his fingers touched the gash on his head, "Oww! That
hurts."
Sam gently removed his Master's hand from the cut, "Mr. Frodo, don't
touch it. You 'urt your head pretty awful."
Frodo rubbed his eyes and looked over to see Merry lying on a cot on
the other side of the cart.
"Merry!" Frodo said as struggled to free himself from Sam's grasp.
"Let me see him!"
Pippin helped hold Frodo back and said, "Calm down, he's just sedated
for the time being. Ms. Chubb said he won't wake till the medicine
wears off."
Ms. Chubb's voice broke into the conversation, "Master Baggins, you
must not overwork yourself. You more than likely have a concussion.
Besides, we will reach Dr. Dora Bracegirdle's office soon."
Frodo's already pale face turned a couple shades paler than it
normally was. He then nestled his head between Pippin's neck and
shoulder, and groaned.
"That is Lobelia's sister, is it not?" Pippin said to Frodo.
Frodo nodded and emitted another miserable groan. Pippin chucked
softly and Sam cringed at the thought of Lobelia's screechy high-
pitched voice.
TBC