FIC: "Winter" (PG-13, 4/?) by Febobe

[febobe]

Title: Winter
Author: Frodo Baggins of Bag End (FBoBE/"Febobe")
Rating: PG-13 for angst and some medically graphic content in later chapters
Warnings: Angst and medically graphic content to come, lots of food detail and cuddling
Summary: Aragorn stops at Bilbo's one Shire winter, and meets a loving family...only to face the fight of his life when their little son, Frodo, falls gravely ill.
Notes: Inspired by a LilyBaggins plotbunny - "I would LOVE to read a fic like "Counterpane" with a very young Frodo being cared for by Aragorn. That is, Frodo is a child... and maybe a healer-ranger drops into Brandy Hall for some reason (bad weather, etc.) or is called upon by Gandalf in an epidemic... or maybe he stops by Bag End when Frodo is visiting (since Frodo should be a lot younger than 21)." LB, here you go...more to come!

CHAPTER FOUR

Soon Bilbo arrived with the ginger tea, served in a miniature feeding-cup, and Aragorn tried to coax the child to sip at the honeyed drink, with a modicum of success. Frodo proved stubborn, but finally Aragorn found a way around the problem.

"If you drink it all down, I shall sing you a song."

"Really?" Frodo's eyes lit up. "What sort of song?"

"A song that the elves sing. But only if you drink down every drop."

Well, that did it. Frodo nursed eagerly at the cup, though Aragorn could tell the child winced every time he swallowed, and his heart ached for the pain. He had, on occasion, suffered from sore throats, and he had seldom wished to eat or drink either. Elrond had used the same technique, promising a story or song if he swallowed every mouthful.

Apparently, Aragorn thought with amusement, a wise choice.

Soon enough, every drop of tea was gone, and Aragorn settled back, still cradling the child, as Bilbo took the cup away, leaving the three of them alone. He began to sing, very softly, a twilight melody about stars and evening and moonlight. It took little time till Frodo dozed against his chest. Looking up, he found Primula watching and listening, enraptured. She smiled, though she said nothing, and he smiled back. Turning his attention back to the little bundle in his arms, he took up another song, this one a lullaby he recalled from his mother, Gilraen.

They sat like that for a long time, though at last Aragorn ceased his singing, and simply sat in silence. Frodo slept on till morning, awakening only when dawn began to peek in through curtained windows, giving the room a soft glow. Primula had at last fallen asleep herself, and sat nestled in the arm-chair.

"Good morning," Aragorn whispered to his little charge. Half he hoped that the child would feel better and begin to giggle and ask for breakfast, but the heat he felt through his tunic told him that it was of little use to hope. And indeed, Frodo only blinked sleepily at him for a moment before speaking.

"You're real. I thought you might be a dream."

"No, I am very real. I promise." Aragorn stroked the small cheek with one finger, dismayed to find it still burning hot. "Might I interest you in first breakfast?"

The child shook his head. "No...thank you. I'm not hungry." He hesitated. "But I am thirsty."

"I think that can be remedied. Will you let me lay you down on your bed? I will get water for you."

"Apple juice?" asked Frodo hopefully.

"Let me put you down. I will go and find out whether your uncle has some."

Frodo allowed himself to be tucked into bed, and Aragorn went out into the hall, grateful for a chance to stretch his muscles. He found Bilbo snoring, head on the kitchen table.

"Bilbo."

The hobbit started, sat up, and looked around in astonishment. "Oh! Yes, Aragorn? I fear I've not been a very good host! I only didn't wish to disturb you, but I wanted to be here in case you and Primmy needed me, and - "

"It was no trouble. But Frodo would like some apple juice. Do you have any?"

"Oh! Of course, of course. Half a moment!" Bilbo trundled into the pantry and returned with a full feeding-cup. "Will that do? There's plenty more if he wants it. Do you think I should scramble him an egg? He likes that."

Aragorn shook his head. "He does not want to eat, and I would like to see how he fares with the juice first. If he takes that well, perhaps in a little well we could try an egg and some porridge. I do not wish to see him go without for long, for if the illness worsens we may have difficulty getting him to eat at all."

Bilbo looked pale. "You don't think it's serious, do you?"

"I cannot say, but his fever has not come down, and that bodes ill. Usually trifling fevers go in a night, and the child is cooler come morning, but this shows no sign of abating."

"Well, I'm glad you're here, and no mistake. Frodo can be impossible to coax into anything when he's ill; you're still new and strange to him, so he'll do anything for you, I suspect. Use it to your advantage!"

"Happily." Aragorn smiled and took the little feeding-cup back down the hall. He discovered that Drogo had arrived, in the meantime, albeit in his dressing-gown, and Primula was explaining the situation in soft tones. But Frodo seemed happy to tear his attention from his parents and back to Aragorn.

"You're back."

"Of course, little one." Aragorn knelt beside the bed, aware that his large figure would be a frightening sight bending over such a small child. "Can you drink this for me? Apple juice, nice and cool."

"Mmm." The little hobbit took two sips and put his hand to his throat. "Hurts," he whimpered, tears filling his blue eyes.

"I know, my friend. But can you drink a little more?" Aragorn asked, noticing the parents' worried expressions. "There's not so very much, and then you can rest a bit before we ask you to swallow anything more."

"All right." Frodo braced himself and sipped, though Aragorn could see that he was in pain.

"Is there anything that would help?" asked his mother. "I've heard licorice is good for sore throats; I don't know whether Bilbo has any - "

"I may have some in my pack. Let me look when we have finished." Aragorn hoped that he did: he tried to keep a well-stocked herbal, though it was difficult to carry everything that might be wanted. Still, he usually had willow bark and ginger, sometimes meadowsweet and licorice, coltsfoot and a few other odds and ends. He waited until Frodo finished the juice, then smiled. "Frodo, do you think you could be a brave lad and let your uncle make you scrambled eggs and porridge? He is up already, and wants to make you some breakfast. I promise, you may have more juice with it."

Frodo hesitated. "A story. Another story for an egg. Two stories if there's porridge."

"You drive a hard bargain." Aragorn shook his head in mock astonishment. "Let me go and tell your uncle, and check my pack, and when you have eaten breakfast, two stories. I promise."

-to be continued-