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Expect another chapter of "Shire" next, as long as ffnet cooperates.

O-O-O

Chapter 62. Heart-to-Heart Talk

When all the arguing was finished, Sam set out for Bag End alone. Merry and Pippin stayed over another day and then rode off to Long Cleeve, and Midge Hall became a place of peace and rest once more.

Frodo improved slowly, save the swelling in his feet. Budgie gave him herbal mixtures to drink to help flush the extra fluid from his body, and had him soak his feet in a solution of salts, but the swelling abated slowly. Freddy took to sitting in the bedroom, slouched in a chair, his own feet up on the bed as the two cousins alternated between talk and companionable silence.

'I really must be getting back,' Frodo said two days after the Travellers left. 'There is so much work to be done yet! Not only copying the finished work into the Red Book, but half the scouring of the Shire, and what came after.'

'O yes,' Freddy said. 'You mustn't leave me languishing in the Lockholes, cousin!'

'I haven't even got you in the Lockholes yet, cousin!' Frodo countered.

'Good, keep me out altogether if you don't mind,' Freddy said. 'Would you like another cup of tea?'

'I might just float away,' Frodo said, and smiled. 'Budgie tells me if I keep drinking copious amounts it'll help the swelling go down faster. It doesn't make any sense to me: drink more to reduce fluids, but he's the healer.'

'Ah,' Freddy said wisely, not having anything else to contribute. Healer's orders did not always make sense to him, either, but Budgie's instincts were usually spot-on. He upended the teapot over Frodo's cup. Only a few drops came out. 'I'll have to fill it up again,' he said.

'See if you can bring something to go along with it,' Frodo said. 'A bit of bread and butter would not go amiss.' Freddy nodded. Frodo had eaten very little since his arrival; his host was glad to hear this request.

As he approached the kitchen he heard Budgie talking quietly to Viola, and something about the healer's tone made him stop just short of the doorway. '...times like this that I wish my father were a carter, or a stonecutter, or a fuller, and I'd been able to follow in his footsteps.'

'Aw, Budgie,' Viola answered, and Freddy could envision her rubbing her husband's hand soothingly. 'Folk would still be a-dying, were you not a healer.'

'Who's dying?' Freddy said, entering the kitchen. He had a terrible feeling that they were discussing either himself or Frodo. The look on Budgie's face confirmed his fear.

'We none of us knows our end,' the healer said now, but Freddy interrupted as Viola smoothly rose from the table and took the pot out of his hands.

'Healers ought to know better than others,' he said sharply. 'Who's dying?'

'Sit down, Mr Freddy,' Budgie said in reply. Freddy sat down slowly. Budgie must be truly upset to have forgotten and used the honorific in front of his name.

'What is it?' Freddy said, his breath catching in his throat.

'Now, don't put yourself out, Freddy,' Budgie said, remembering this time. 'It won't make it right for you to work yourself up and put yourself in a bed.'

'It's Frodo, then,' Freddy said. 'Tell me what you know.'

Budgie sighed. 'I don't know enough,' he said, and added wryly, 'and yet I know too much for my own peace of mind.' Before Freddy could ask further, he said, 'You're right, Freddy. Your cousin's dying.'

While waiting for the teakettle to boil, Viola had poured out a glass of water and measured a few drops from the bottle they kept on a high shelf. Now she placed it in front of Freddy and said, 'Drink up, Freddy.' He drank without protest.

Putting down the glass, he said, 'Dying?'

Budgie nodded. 'There's a marked change from the Spring,' he said. 'Then his heart sounded...' he paused to think back.

'You said it was squishy or slushy or some such,' Freddy said helpfully.

'It's a more common problem than you'd think,' Budgie said. 'My father told me a fair number of hobbits, one in a hundred say, maybe a few more, are born that way, and it never troubles them for all of their lives.'

'Yes,' Freddy said. 'Go on.'

'That is what I hoped I was hearing,' Budgie said. 'Something that would just settle back into obscurity as soon as he got over that bad spell, just something to watch for in case of illness.'

'But it wasn't,' Freddy said.

Budgie sighed. 'No,' he said. 'It wasn't the kind of thing that lasts a hobbit all his life yet troubles him not at all, or rarely. It was the early sign of the failing of his heart.'

'His heart!' Freddy said. 'He's had a seizure?' He stiffened, his hand unconsciously seeking his own breast.

'No,' Budgie said firmly. 'Your heart is not failing, Freddy, for all it was damaged by the ruffians' treatment of you. Though you've had a heart seizure, or two, even, with care we can keep you going in relatively fine health for a good many years to come.'

'My heart is not failing,' Freddy said, 'but Frodo's is? I do not understand.'

'I don't understand it, completely,' Budgie said. 'Perhaps if healers knew more about it, we'd be able to do something.' He leaned forward. 'The swelling in his feet is a bad sign, Freddy. The racing of his heart last Spring was alarming, but I hoped it was related to the bad spell, and in truth it did pass within a few days.'

'Tell me more,' Freddy said.

'His heart is labouring ever harder,' Budgie said. 'Somehow, to fight the difficulty, his body pours extra fluid into the tissues. I'm not sure how it works, only that it is what we healers see as this sort of thing takes its course. Not only is fluid building in his limbs, but it is building in his chest, making breathing difficult.'

'That is why you have him sitting up to sleep,' Freddy said. 'And why you keep forcing ever more vile concoctions down his throat, and tell him to keep drinking.'

'Fight fluid with more fluid,' Budgie said. 'It's working; the swelling is going down, albeit slowly.'

Freddy wanted to ask why this was happening, but Budgie had already admitted the limitations of healers' knowledge. Instead, he toyed with his glass, thinking awhile, before he finally raised his head to meet Budgie's eyes. 'How long?'

'You know better than to ask such a question,' Budgie said.

'Tell me the best and the worst,' Freddy said. 'You can do that much, surely! You told my parents as much about me.' Best, he could live to see his ninetieth year, perhaps a bit more. Worst... well, he could fall on his head this very day and be buried on the morrow. In truth, no hobbit knows how many sips are in the cup.

Budgie shook his head. 'I cannot say,' he said. 'He has failed markedly since the Spring; he could stay as he is now, or he could continue to fail at the same rate, or he could go even faster. I do not see any improvement in store, in any event.' He met Freddy's eye steadily. 'At best, he could last until his next bad spell. They happen in March, you said? I do not think his heart will survive the strain of another.'

Freddy sat stunned. 'March,' he whispered. 'And October. He's told me of two anniversaries that he observes, whether he cares to, or not.'

'I'm sorry, Freddy,' Budgie said softly.