Title: Lavender's Blue
Author: Frodo Baggins of Bag End (FBoBE/"Febobe")
Rating: T for thematic darkness, graphic medical detail, and major canon character death. WARNING: Not for sensitive readers, those opposed to major canon character death, and/or those who cannot bear deviation from canon. Very, very AU. Read at your own risk. This does not have a happily-ever-after ending, folks; I'm warning you now. No profanity, no sexuality, no slash included, intended or implied.
Summary: After the war, plague strikes Minas Tirith. . .including one of its smallest and most honoured inhabitants, and there is nothing Elrond can do to save him. . . .
Author Notes: See Rating for warnings. Please don't flame me for canon character death or AUness; I do realise this is pure deviation from Tolkien, and I make no claim that it even attempts to follow the spirit of the tale as he wrote it. This story may not be the cheeriest I've ever written, but it demanded to be told, and told honestly and openly, so here it is. I can only hope that I've managed to do it some justice. To me it has a deep and sorrowful beauty all its own. I do hope some of you have read this far and will read and find value, if tears, in it along with me. Thank you.
DISCLAIMER: The characters, places, and story of The Lord of the Rings are the property of J.R.R. Tolkien and consequently of the Tolkien Estate, with select rights by Tolkien Enterprises. This piece appears purely as fanfiction and is not intended to claim ownership of Tolkien's work in any way. Please e-mail me if you have concerns. Original characters are my own work; please do not use my creations in your work. Please respect my original contributions. Furthermore, please do NOT consider any treatments or remedies within this story safe or effective for use: these are included as fictitious hobbit care, not real human medical practice, and while some can indeed be traced to actual therapeutic practices, could be dangerous. Please consult your health care professional before treating yourself or others for any condition or symptom.
LAVENDER'S BLUE
CHAPTER THREE: Memory
By the time Captain Faramir had returned and sent up the supplies, Frodo's condition was notably worsening. His breathing had become more difficult, and he was no longer able even to turn in bed unaided by his caregiver. Fortunately, everything that had been requested was there, so Elrond was able to set at once to the task of making Frodo more comfortable, lighting scented candles to freshen the air of the sickroom, giving cooling fruit shrub to drink, and promptly setting to giving the little one a sponge-bath with the lavender mint soap. This Frodo seemed to enjoy greatly despite his weakened condition, perhaps because it gave comfort from the high fever. Elrond felt almost sorry to end it, though he promised another soon: it would be a long night, he knew, and most likely the bath would be required more than once more during the dark hours between dusk and dawn.
As night drew on, Frodo's condition worsened further: he began to grow delirious at times, and sometimes thought himself back on the Quest, or in the Shire with Bilbo. He would demand the Ring, or beg piteously for his uncle, and no amount of reassurance from Elrond could comfort him until the delirium passed and he was sufficiently himself to recognise that he was, in fact, safe and the Ring destroyed. More than once he required physical restraint to prevent his doing himself and others an injury by getting out of bed and running to the window or door; fortunately, Elrond's greater size and strength rendered that easy enough to accomplish, though it broke his heart to do so.
In between, however, there were moments of peace. . .when Elrond would bathe Frodo with lavender mint soap and talk to him of better things. . . .
"What is your favourite memory?"
"Mmm." Frodo contemplated this for a long moment. "I don't know. I would have to divide it up into my favourite memory with Mamma and Papa, my favourite memory with Bilbo, and my favourite memory since Bilbo went away."
"Any of those."
"Mmm." Frodo sighed contentedly as Elrond turned him and bathed his back. "My favourite memory with Bilbo. He took me walking up to the Woody End to camp one night. We saw elves, and we talked with them - well, Bilbo did mostly. They talked to me a little too. I couldn't speak very much Elvish yet. But they called me 'little elf-friend' anyhow."
"Wise indeed." Elrond smiled. "You had many good times with Bilbo, did you not?"
"Yes." Frodo sighed. "You will tell him I love him, won't you? How sorry I am that I did not get back to see him?"
"I will indeed. I promise."
"And the others? You'll tell them? I do wish I could see them again, but I. . .I understand. I don't want them sick too."
"I promise, tithen min."
"Good. Thank you." Frodo turned his face to the pillow once more and closed his eyes.
It was three o'clock in the morning, and the only sound in the room was the sound of soft, laboured breathing.
-to be continued-