The rest of that day and the night, which followed it, was one of the worst times that Esmeralda could remember in her life. She had nursed her aunt at the end but to see a young child in such pain was almost more than she could bear. Even tending other children through minor illnesses and the occasional broken bone over the past few months could not prepare her for the pain that coiled itself about her own heart every time Frodo caught his breath or cracked open fever glazed eyes.
Several of the older ladies of the Hall had offered to relieve her of Frodo's care and Esmeralda would have been willing to bow to their greater experience; but even in his sleep Frodo seemed to know exactly who he wanted with him. If Saradoc persuaded her back to their rooms or Bilbo left for any length of time the lad would become fretful and they would have to be sent for, and so it was that Bilbo and Esmeralda remained Frodo's carers.
For the first few hours their time was taken up wholly with watching and caring for him. There were bandages to change and they sponged him down as his fever rose. Esmeralda fed him sips of ginger tea when he was conscious enough to swallow, in hopes that it would both settle his stomach and bring down his temperature. It seemed to have the desired effect and after each cupful that they managed to coax into him he would settle down to sleep again for a while. Esmeralda was grateful for it was well into the small hours before she dare administer any more of the sedative, but within minutes of her doing so he sank down into a sound and untroubled sleep and within a few hours of that his fever broke.
At midnight Saradoc and Hilda arrived with supplies for the weary watchers. Hilda had stood many such vigils with her own brood over the years and knew that once the initial crisis was over the normal rhythms of life took over. So it was that they arrived, bringing supper, Esmeralda's knitting bag, Bilbo's book from his bedside table and some cushions to make their chairs more comfortable. The two carers accepted the gifts thankfully and Esmeralda pecked her husband's cheek as she and Bilbo prepared themselves for the long nighttime vigil.
At first they sat in silence, other than the click of Esmeralda's knitting needles, the turning of Bilbo's pages and Frodo's occasional fretful murmurs. After a while, however, the silence became too intense and Bilbo finally set aside his book with a sigh. Esmeralda glanced up, thinking that Frodo needed something and put her knitting down but Bilbo waved his hand, shaking his head.
"He's alright. My brain just refuses to concentrate on the intricacies of Sindarin word order," he whispered as he reached out to stroke Frodo's right hand, where it lay still upon the coverlet. His grey eyes studied the small face, peaceful in sleep at last.
"I thought that I had reconciled myself to not having a family."
Esmeralda smiled. "He does have a way of worming his way into your heart, doesn't he?" she observed quietly.
Bilbo's eyes travelled up to meet hers. "Is he happy here, Esmeralda?"
"Happy? He has been happy today and for the past days that you have been here. And there are days when he is happy playing with the other children or just sitting in the window in the library, reading."
The grey eyes would not release her. "Everyone can get used to a place and I suspect that Frodo has the kind of temperament that will seek to make the best of a situation. We are all happy at some time in each day but is he really happy here?"
Esmeralda leaned forward and stroked Frodo's soft cheek. "He never says anything, but I think he is very lonely. He feels the loss of his parents very keenly. Those that say children can overcome such trauma more easily than adults are fooling themselves. I think that the only reason he says nothing is that he believes there is no other option open to him."
She tried to gauge Bilbo's reaction to her comments and was answered with a single nod. "He may be right, Esmeralda."
"I hope not, Bilbo. He needs individual attention and a lot of love. As an only child he will have grown used to that."
"Primula and Drogo doted upon him you know?" Bilbo answered.
"Who could not?" Esmeralda interjected but whether he had heard her or not Bilbo continued.
"They could not have any more children. I understand that it was a difficult birth." Bilbo dropped his voice as Frodo stirred. He took the lad's hand between both of his and the child settled down at once.
"I didn't know. I returned to Brandy Hall several few weeks after the accident and I didn't know Frodo's family very well. I can guess what they were like though and I wish that I had known them better," Esmeralda noted. "He must have got that sweet disposition from someone."
Bilbo smiled. "That would be Primula. She had the kindest heart I have ever known. And I think he got his strength from Drogo. That hobbit would stand by what was right, if it was the last thing he did."
Esmeralda took her courage in both hands. "He needs someone special to share his life. Someone he can call his own."
"I know. I just wish I knew who," Bilbo replied with a sigh.
Esmeralda's eyes were drawn to watch Bilbo's thumb as it rubbed gently over the back of Frodo's hand. "How about Bilbo Baggins?" she ventured.
His voice was resigned. "Mad Baggins?" Bilbo shook his head sadly. "Even if I were not a bachelor I would not be considered fitted to raise a young boy."
"Have you tried asking?" she suggested calmly.
"There's no point. I know what Rorymac's answer will be. And to be truthful, I'm not sure that I could look after a child. I've never had much to do with them."
"Neither have I," Esmeralda observed wryly. She picked up her knitting again. If Bilbo did not want him in his life Frodo would be better off here. At least in Brandy Hall there were many people and he could expect to receive at a little love from Esmeralda, although she had to be careful to ration her attentions between all the fosterlings. If he lived alone, with an uncle that did not really want him around, he would not even get that. Esmeralda started to cast off the shoulder seem on Saradoc's new sweater.
"Perhaps how good you would be at raising him and whether you would be allowed to raise him, will depend upon how badly you want him. You may have to be willing to fight for Frodo."
Mad Baggins' voice was barely more than a whisper. "Would you fight for him?"
Esmeralda remembered Frodo's face as he ran down the hallway, waving Bilbo's letter.
"He is drawn to me because I have shown him love where he thought to find none. But some day I will have children of my own and I am married to the heir to Brandy Hall. That will bring additional responsibilities. It would be unfair of me to grow too close to him." She paused. "But I don't think it's really me that he wants. The merry child that you've seen these past days isn't the same one who sits in the library window for hours, watching the river roll by. I think it's his Uncle Bilbo that Frodo really wants."
Bilbo's eyes drifted down to the wan face upon the pillow and Esmeralda watched his features soften. Perhaps there was hope.