febobe

A prequel/sequel (you'll see) to "Sweet: As Told By Merry."

This one is less directly focused on the Shirebunny in question. . .but still deals with that period. Basically, it came about b/c B_Briarwood was asking about why the crying and for elaboration on the only-briefly-described mealtimes. . .so I took that up!!!! :) Enjoy!!!!

I knew it hurt to take even a mouthful of lembas close to the end there, but I didn't reckon it would be that bad after we woke up, what with plenty o'water to drink and all.

Aragorn said the more we could eat, the better it would get. Something about the good stuff in the nourishing food they were giving us. I don't reckon I would have believed 'em 'cept I recognised so many o'the good things they were giving us, like mashed taters and mashed-up carrots and flaked fish and roast chicken and all that like. There was even all kinds of fruit, some I knew and some I didn't, but all of 'em cut up into little balls or bites nice and soft for us. Reckon I liked fair near everything I tasted, and that's why I started getting better so fast. I'd make myself swallow it down even when I didn't feel like it.

But poor Mr. Frodo, I reckon he'd had just about more than he could take. He'd try to eat, but it hurt him so bad he'd cry something awful, 'cause it hurt him so bad but he was that hungry and thirsty, he was. So, like those awful days toward the end, I had to take to coaxin' him, like I used to when he was sick. Aragorn'd see to it soft and liquid food got sent up, and I'd feed it to him - chicken and mushroom soup like he loved (his favourite, I reckon), scrambled or soft-cooked or coddled or poached eggs, them little griddle-cakes with nice maple or fruit syrups to pour over 'em or jam to smear on 'em, mushroom omelettes or jam omelettes, eggy bread with maple or fruit syrup to smother it in, smoothly made porridge thinned with milk, strained vegetable soup made with good beef stock, golden chicken soup, applesauce, peach foam, all kinds o'sliced-up berries and strange fruit called "melon" in every colour, an even stranger fruit called "banana" which Aragorn would slice up and mash fresh at the bedside for Mr. Frodo and me, good beef-tea and cup custard and milk-toast, made fine enough for any invalid in the Shire.

Mr. Merry and Mr. Pippin, now, they'd help me, sitting with us and helping coax Mr. Frodo. They never tried to stop me from being the one to feed him, but they'd try to get him to open up, sure 'nuff. Mr. Pippin, he'd even run messages back and forth to the kitchen for us, and errands too, and never once complain. I reckon he grew up a right good bit during the War.

I reckon I had trouble with getting that food down Mr. Frodo every meal, much as I could tell he wanted it, for a good solid week after he woke.

And then. . .something amazing happened!

He hadn't been eating anything without coaxin' in all that time save for them lemons, which I reckon he loved - mercy knows why, sour things! - but he would want me to cut him one in half and give it to him a few times a day. Aragorn just kept bringing 'em, said they grew plenty o'those things down here, so eat up, so I encouraged it. Figured eating something was better'n eating almost nothing.

But then, a week to the day from when he woke, I was sitting in his room waiting for him to wake like usual, and he opened his eyes and looked at me. Just looked at me, all clear-eyed, like he used to, before. . .before those awful last days.

"Sam?"

"Yes, Mr. Frodo?"

"Is it time for first breakfast yet? I'm awfully hungry." He pushed himself right up, slowly but surely, and I hurried to help him right quick so the exertion wouldn't be too much for him, but he didn't lose all his colour this time like usual.

"Almost, sir. They should be bringing it in just a few minutes."

"Good. Thank you."

Sure enough, a moment later, in came Aragorn with Mr. Frodo's tray, setting it over the bed real careful, trying not to bump Mr. Frodo's legs.

"Good morning. How are you both feeling today?"

I directed my eyes toward Frodo in an effort to let him know that something seemed to have changed for the better, and he seemed to follow me.

"Hungry."

Well, we both blinked at that one.

"Hungry?" repeated Aragorn curiously.

"Mmm-hmm." Mr. Frodo nodded, reaching to lift covers on the tray without waiting for assistance. "Sam, have you eaten yet?"

"That I have, sir. This is all for you. I've had my fill this morning."

"Oh! Thank you." Looking quite pleased, he settled back and began pouring blueberry syrup over two slices of eggy bread dusted with snowy powdered sugar.

Aragorn and I looked at each other.

Frodo, meanwhile, was digging into his eggy bread with relish.

Except for the lemons, I'd had to to feed him as well as coax him, so disheartened did he seem that past week. . . .

Until then.

Then he started tucking into the eggy bread and the scrambled eggs and the orange-juice like nobody's business.

I reckon it was one of the most beautiful sights I'd ever seen.

Especially when he did the same thing with a mushroom omelette at second breakfast; chicken mushroom soup, roast chicken, mashed taters, baked mushrooms, mashed carrots, creamed asparagus tips, peach foam, and cup custard at luncheon; and poached eggs on toast for his tea. Plus two lemons in the meantime.

And every bit of it stayed put where it was s'posed to, didn't give him a bit o'trouble.

I reckon that fruit was better'n medicine.

I'm right glad of it. Ain't nothing as unnatural as a hobbit off his feed, and that's a fact.

~the end?~