May. 11th, 2015

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For those of you who aren't involved in Teitho, I wrote an LOTR/House crossover fic for the "Sickness" challenge. The voting is over and posted, so I'm free to admit that I wrote it and repost as I wish. I'm planning to post it this week on ff.net. Below is a sample for those interested.... :)

(This is when Dr. House has just entered Frodo's chamber in Minas Tirith.)

Gandalf and Aragorn had hurried in behind him. “House – “ Gandalf began in a warning tone, but the doctor – for I assumed it could only be he – dismissed him with a wave and a roll of his eyes.

“Oh, don’t get your robe in a wad, Methuselah.” The doctor pushed his way past Legolas and plopped onto my bed, still holding his cane and the bag. “So, shortie, are you too special a snowflake for me to examine you, or what?”

I sat there in shock.

“This isn’t the way we usually tend to Frodo,” Aragorn began, coming to the doctor’s side, but the doctor merely shoved his cane in Aragorn’s direction.

“Here. Hold this, crown-head.”

Aragorn sighed, but held the cane. “Frodo,” he said gently, “this is Dr. Gregory House. He has a gift for discovering what is wrong with people, and though he has never seen a hobbit before, we have no doubt he will – “

“You know, ‘cause I’m a real doctor and everything.” Dr. House rolled his eyes again. “Look, kid. This would be a lot simpler if you weren’t trying to block every test I want to do. At Princeton-Plainsboro, my team of three doctors can do so many tests we could diagnose you before your hairy little feet hit the floor tomorrow morning. But they tell me you didn’t WANT to come. What, you think this is about wanting?!?”

I found my tongue at last.

“I won’t go,” I said firmly. “If you’re as fine a doctor as I’m told, you can diagnose me here. Yourself. Or you can go back to wherever you came from, and in a few months’ time, Elrond of Rivendell can do the job *you* failed at doing. Which will it be? I don’t mind to wait.”

Judging from the tightness in his jaw, I guessed I had hit my mark.

“You need me worse than I need you, short stuff,” he said, but there was a gleam in his eye. I had angered him, hurt his pride, and I was glad of it. I had never spoken so to a Big Person before, but the Quest had done one good thing for me – it had made me bold, unafraid to fight against having things done to me which I did not wish.

I spread my arms. “I’m here. Examine me if you wish. Question me if you must. If you can’t be bothered, go back to where you came from and let me go back to sleep.”

Dr. House studied my tray. “From what I’ve been told, hobbits are food addicts. Seems like a small breakfast for one. And not much eaten from it.”

“I didn’t feel like it.”

“Interesting. I mean, if you were a human, it would be boring. But for a hobbit – “ He picked up the tray and handed it off to Legolas, who still looked a little affronted, but took it anyhow and set it aside in a chair. “Feeling faint when you stand up. Any family history?”

I shook my head. “I never heard of any relation having anything like this. My parents fell out of a boat and drowned. They couldn’t swim. Most Bagginses and Brandybucks are healthy as ponies.”

(and from later...)

“How could you DO that to him?!?” demanded Sam sharply, jerking his head up to glare at Dr. House. “He’s sick! You’re a DOCTOR – you ought to try and help him, not hurt him!”

Dr. House smirked.

“I can’t *help* him without knowing what is *wrong* with him,” he pointed out, unruffled. “Before you all pop your eyeballs from panicking, I know what’s wrong. I just need to check one more thing. Sit up, short stuff.”

-Febobe :)

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