![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
FIC: Untitled as yet (PG) (2/?) by Febobe for MEWSIE!
Thank you all for the delightful and encouraging responses thus far! Mewsie, I'm so glad you like it, and everyone else too! (Moit, I totally understand. I'll skip your sex toy fics and you can skip my cuddly foodie fics! Works for me! :D And thank you about the icon. Made by one of my sweet friends here!)
Here is the second installment of the fic. I still don't have a good title; maybe by the end of the fic I'll come up with something appropriate. :) Warning: hobbits ahead!
CHAPTER TWO
"Do not fear, Frodo. You are safe."
Strider's voice. Frodo stirred weakly, and found himself lying in Strider's - Aragorn's - arms, with Elrond bent over him, one hand upon his brow. Sam and Merry and Pippin stood only a little further back, looking worried.
"Sir, are you all right?" asked Sam. "You gave us a scare, and no mistake."
"I ... I'm ... I don't know." Frodo felt dizzy and weak; he was too afraid to try sitting up. Aragorn cradled him close, supporting his head with one arm.
"Hush," he said, "all of you. Frodo has had a shock; we must get him back to bed. Frodo, how much did you manage to eat? I am not sure that you have taken sufficient food to endure so much excitement. Being up for the first time in days taxes the body."
"I ... a little, I think. A bite or two of goose and applesauce. A spoonful of mashed potatoes."
Aragorn spoke quickly in low tones to Elrond, but as he spoke in Elvish, even Frodo could not understand; the conversation happened too rapidly for him to follow. Within a moment, Elrond slipped away, and Aragorn lifted him, rising to a standing position.
"I shall return you to your bed," he explained. "Of your friends, Sam may come; Merry, Pippin, I would ask you to fetch ... you know whom. Bring him, please. I think Frodo would benefit from his presence."
Frodo half-wondered who they meant, but the movement made him feel dizzier, and he shut his eyes. He felt Aragorn's movements as they passed through the halls, and soon enough he recognized the comfortable, still somewhat medicinal, smell of his own room. It was a great relief when Aragorn laid him down on his bed and began to undress him, carefully removing the fine clothes of green cloth which Frodo had put on that afternoon.
"Begging your pardon, sir, but if there's something you ought to be doing, I can tend to that," said Sam, and Aragorn stepped back, letting him take over. Frodo felt some relief. He was accustomed to Aragorn by now, but he was far more accustomed to Sam.
"Sam, if you would leave him undressed for now," said Aragorn, washing his hands in a basin of water, "it would be helpful. I need to examine him, particularly his shoulder. There may be more we must do."
"Not another piece of blade," Frodo said, groaning.
"No," answered Aragorn. "I think not. But there may yet be aught amiss." He bent over the shoulder where Elrond had stitched it closed after his work, running careful fingers over it. Frodo winced.
"That hurts!"
"I am sorry. But it supports what Elrond and I suspected. The wound has some infection in it. We worked as cleanly as we could, and Elrond is always fastidious with his instruments, but the wound had in it a fragment of blade which was not particularly clean, nor was the skin it pierced very clean when the wound occurred, for travelling is not particularly good for cleanliness even among hobbits."
Frodo sighed. "No, it isn't. What does this mean?"
"Elrond will advise further, but I suspect that you shall have to remain in bed for many days, at least until the fever abates; that is why you are cold, though that is likely to change when the fever has finished rising. We shall keep the wound bathed; it would be better not to reopen it if we can avoid doing so. And there are medicines we must give you, to help you fight the infection and make you more comfortable. Most importantly, you must take suitable nourishment. Elrond is seeing to some food which you will be better able to enjoy than your supper."
Frodo blushed. "It was a lovely meal."
"But you did not eat very much. I watched you, and you took hardly three spoonfuls, perhaps three and a half. Not enough to help your body recover." Aragorn's voice gentled. "Food will not heal you if you cannot eat it, little one."
"I suppose not." Frodo glanced at Sam. "Could Sam help me? I am so very tired. I would rather feed myself, but I really don't feel at all like moving."
"You know I'm happy to help, Mr. Frodo." Sam shot Aragorn a look that would have frozen beer and moved to help Frodo into a fresh night-shirt. "Course it's all right. I can't imagine Strider'd say no. I didn't think you ought to have been up yet anyhow."
"You may have been right, Sam," said Aragorn. "Elrond and I had concerns. But we hoped a celebration might hearten Frodo. Please forgive us."
Just then, there came a knock, and the door opened. In came Pippin, and Merry, and ... could it be?
Bilbo!
-to be continued-
Here is the second installment of the fic. I still don't have a good title; maybe by the end of the fic I'll come up with something appropriate. :) Warning: hobbits ahead!
CHAPTER TWO
"Do not fear, Frodo. You are safe."
Strider's voice. Frodo stirred weakly, and found himself lying in Strider's - Aragorn's - arms, with Elrond bent over him, one hand upon his brow. Sam and Merry and Pippin stood only a little further back, looking worried.
"Sir, are you all right?" asked Sam. "You gave us a scare, and no mistake."
"I ... I'm ... I don't know." Frodo felt dizzy and weak; he was too afraid to try sitting up. Aragorn cradled him close, supporting his head with one arm.
"Hush," he said, "all of you. Frodo has had a shock; we must get him back to bed. Frodo, how much did you manage to eat? I am not sure that you have taken sufficient food to endure so much excitement. Being up for the first time in days taxes the body."
"I ... a little, I think. A bite or two of goose and applesauce. A spoonful of mashed potatoes."
Aragorn spoke quickly in low tones to Elrond, but as he spoke in Elvish, even Frodo could not understand; the conversation happened too rapidly for him to follow. Within a moment, Elrond slipped away, and Aragorn lifted him, rising to a standing position.
"I shall return you to your bed," he explained. "Of your friends, Sam may come; Merry, Pippin, I would ask you to fetch ... you know whom. Bring him, please. I think Frodo would benefit from his presence."
Frodo half-wondered who they meant, but the movement made him feel dizzier, and he shut his eyes. He felt Aragorn's movements as they passed through the halls, and soon enough he recognized the comfortable, still somewhat medicinal, smell of his own room. It was a great relief when Aragorn laid him down on his bed and began to undress him, carefully removing the fine clothes of green cloth which Frodo had put on that afternoon.
"Begging your pardon, sir, but if there's something you ought to be doing, I can tend to that," said Sam, and Aragorn stepped back, letting him take over. Frodo felt some relief. He was accustomed to Aragorn by now, but he was far more accustomed to Sam.
"Sam, if you would leave him undressed for now," said Aragorn, washing his hands in a basin of water, "it would be helpful. I need to examine him, particularly his shoulder. There may be more we must do."
"Not another piece of blade," Frodo said, groaning.
"No," answered Aragorn. "I think not. But there may yet be aught amiss." He bent over the shoulder where Elrond had stitched it closed after his work, running careful fingers over it. Frodo winced.
"That hurts!"
"I am sorry. But it supports what Elrond and I suspected. The wound has some infection in it. We worked as cleanly as we could, and Elrond is always fastidious with his instruments, but the wound had in it a fragment of blade which was not particularly clean, nor was the skin it pierced very clean when the wound occurred, for travelling is not particularly good for cleanliness even among hobbits."
Frodo sighed. "No, it isn't. What does this mean?"
"Elrond will advise further, but I suspect that you shall have to remain in bed for many days, at least until the fever abates; that is why you are cold, though that is likely to change when the fever has finished rising. We shall keep the wound bathed; it would be better not to reopen it if we can avoid doing so. And there are medicines we must give you, to help you fight the infection and make you more comfortable. Most importantly, you must take suitable nourishment. Elrond is seeing to some food which you will be better able to enjoy than your supper."
Frodo blushed. "It was a lovely meal."
"But you did not eat very much. I watched you, and you took hardly three spoonfuls, perhaps three and a half. Not enough to help your body recover." Aragorn's voice gentled. "Food will not heal you if you cannot eat it, little one."
"I suppose not." Frodo glanced at Sam. "Could Sam help me? I am so very tired. I would rather feed myself, but I really don't feel at all like moving."
"You know I'm happy to help, Mr. Frodo." Sam shot Aragorn a look that would have frozen beer and moved to help Frodo into a fresh night-shirt. "Course it's all right. I can't imagine Strider'd say no. I didn't think you ought to have been up yet anyhow."
"You may have been right, Sam," said Aragorn. "Elrond and I had concerns. But we hoped a celebration might hearten Frodo. Please forgive us."
Just then, there came a knock, and the door opened. In came Pippin, and Merry, and ... could it be?
Bilbo!
-to be continued-